Outlier
Micah Sanders is confronted by an unwelcome guest.
July 23, 2021
"So we could talk about intelligence as having started about 550 million years ago in the Cambrian era when we had our first multicellular animals that could move about."
There are hundreds of students in attendance, gathered in the stadium seating of the symposium hall. Hundreds of faces, a sea of attentive minds, listening to a man on stage speak to the passion of his profession. Pacing back and forth across the stage, Micah Sanders is effortless in his composure. He gestures out to the crowd, smile wide, eyes bright. "And we would eventually come to the most recent era, the last 50,000 years or so, which is when we have modern humans coming out of Africa and language, abstract thinking, symbolic behavior, all that the common person in the street thinks of as intelligence."
Behind Micah, a fifteen foot high screen shows a flash-forward of human evolution, from primate to Wall Street. "These are, if you want to think of the last 24 hours as the history of intelligence, then in the last three minutes, the last three minutes of that is essentially all this language, symbolic behavior, which we are so proud to call amongst us as a sign of intelligence." As he continues to give his lecture, the images behind Micah change to show cities, time-lapse images of highways, clouds whipping past. "So now let's turn the clock ahead, and let's talk about what topic brought us all here today. My personal favorite." Micah spreads his hands wide and the screen behind him becomes rolling lines of code.
"Artificial intelligence."
Two Hours Later
UC Berkeley
Berkeley, California
July 23rd
2:28 pm
A sleek black car is parked at the curb directly outside of the Hearst Greek Theater. Most of the traffic from the lecture had left, leaving this sole vehicle an outlier among the foot traffic of students. Micah's approach down the sidewalk toward the car slows when he notices that it doesn't have a front license plate and the windows are tinted. With a roll of his eyes he shakes his head and tucks his hands into his pockets, waiting. The car's engine turns over and it rolls down the street, slowing down to a crawl before stopping beside him. Micah watches his reflection in the rear passenger window divide as it rolls down, revealing the dark eyes and steel hair of an unwelcome guest.
"Angela," Micah's tone is flat and steely. "You came all the way out to Berkeley and didn't even have the decency to watch my lecture?"
"I've seen it before." Angela replies without missing a beat. "I need to talk to you, Micah. Would you mind joining me for—"
"Actually I would mind." He cuts her off. "You don't get to come to me and act like the CIA," Micah says with a swirling motion of one finger, "and just ask me for favors. That isn't how this works."
Angela closes her eyes, sighing patiently. "I understand the tension. I don't blame you, but—"
"That's funny, I don't remember asking you who you blame. Because I sure as hell blame you." Micah says, stepping up to the car and pointing at Angela through the window. "My parents are dead because of your bullshit. You expect me to act like none of that happened?" He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. "You get by every day of your life because I don't make a plane crash on you like a wicked witch."
Brows furrowed, Angela looks at her driver, then back to Micah. "I know you don't want my apologies—"
"That's the first thing you've been right about since you rolled up here."
"—but we've been able to put our differences aside for the future before." Angela presses through his attitude, looking up at him pointedly. Micah looks up and down the sidewalk, then steps closer to Angela's car and rests a hand on the roof, leaning in close to the window.
"You've got a minute, then I make you leave." Micah says in a hushed but forceful tone to her. "Counting down."
"This isn't a conversation for the side of the road Micah, please just—"
"Already blown like sixteen whole seconds."
Angela grunts in frustration. "It's about your son." Those are all the words it takes for Micah to lean into the window and grab Angela by the wrist. Her eyes snap wide and he gets within an inch of her face.
"You say one more word about my boy and I swear to god," he hisses in her face. Angela grows quiet and Micah sinks into a moment of frustrated self-reflection, letting go of her trembling wrist. "Keep talking." He finally gives her permission.
"I promise I haven't been keeping tabs on you. The only reason I know about Lawrence is because of a dream. I swear." Angela's insistence is met with stone-faced skepticism by Micah who steps away from the car, paces in a circle, then doubles back and hasn't lost an ounce of his anger. "I saw something happen to him. To a great many people. Please, Micah, for the love of God just get in the god-damned car." That's when Micah clocks the fear in Angela's eyes. Not fear of him or his ability, but fear for whatever it is she's seen. He curls one hand into a fist and fantasizes about punching her in the side of the head, just once, but then exhales a slow breath through his nose and relaxes the tension in that hand.
Against his better judgment, Micah goes around the other side and gets in the back seat. "Explain," he demands, slamming the door shut.
"Last night I… I saw something. Something I can't explain." Angela looks to her driver, catching his eyes in the rear-view mirror. Her subtle nod has him pulling away from the curb to merge into traffic. Micah watches the city begin to roll by out his window. "I saw cities burning, I saw you and Denisa in a helicopter, being evacuated with Lawrence. There was some kind of… of EMP, and you were knocked out of the sky, crashed down into—"
"Why're you telling me this?" Micah's voice is hushed. Tense. All of this feels hopelessly fatalistic. "I'm done with this life. For all I know this happens because I got in the car with you. What is it now, aliens going all Independence Day on us? You need me to send a virus to the mothership?"
Angela clenches her jaw to hold back a snide comment. "Don't be so flippant with your family's life." It's about as sharp as she can afford to be. She's seen how this conversation goes enough times to know just how far she can push him. Micah stares her down, then shakes his head in frustration and disappointment, looking out the window again. His silence compels Angela to continue talking. "It was a solar flare. A human extinction level—"
"A HELE?" Micah looks at Angela side-long, squinting.
"I know how this sounds." Angela is quick to note. "But trust me, it's real. It's coming, and soon." Micah's brows furrow and he looks to the side, then back to Angela.
"I just queried six satellite telescopes and there's not even sunspot activity." Micah's eyes track from side to side. "NASA hasn't shown any increased solar weather. It's not even that hot out today. I think you need to get some rest, and I think you need to pull over here and let me the fuck out of the car."
Angela takes a risk, reaching over to put her hand on Micah's shoulder. He stares daggers at her, but doesn't break away. "Micah," she implores, "when have I been wrong?" Silence hangs between them. "You might not like the way I action on my visions, but you know how accurate they are." He looks away, focusing on his muted reflection in the tinted window rather than her voice.
"I know shit usually gets worse the more you try and intervene." Micah mutters. "You just can't leave well enough alone, can you? This doesn't make any god damned sense," he says, pointing at her. "Pull the car over or I will." Angela locks eyes with her driver in the rear-view again, and nods a reluctant approval to Micah's request. As the vehicle is cutting through traffic, Angela tries one last turn.
"Are you familiar with the Looking Glass project?" Angela leans forward to meet Micah's avoidant gaze. She knows he is, and the look of distaste in his expression only grows as its name is invoked. "Someone has screwed with time, Micah. Someone or something. You may not see sunspots now, but tomorrow they'll be there. Then a few months from now everyone we know will be dead. Linear causality isn't what it used to be."
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