Simon Northstrum, the primary software engineer for the Martian rovers, is beginning to lose faith in God. Then he learns that answered prayers and granted wishes can bring unintended consequences. Beings known as the Dominion choose Simon to be their human vessel, using him to remind humankind why we exist. They have determined that cell phones impede humans from listening to our souls’ stories, which they helped create before we were born. The Dominion seek to teach humanity that we are all connected to one another and are intended to master life lessons.
News anchors Bill Hemmer and Martha MacCallum are the harbingers of the Dominion’s invasion, helping humankind to see how every thought, word, and action causes ripples throughout the world. Something may seem inconsequential to us but can cause a tsunami for others. Simon must examine where he stands in his life story, and he must get people all over the world to put their phones down so we can connect soulfully with one another and discover true character.
This novel tells the story of a man chosen to lead humanity away from its electronics-saturated existence and build new, purposeful lives.
1
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
The small gray rat weaves his way around a track, using his size
to maneuver between the larger and more experienced rats. The
rodents are woven together like strands in a rope, twisted around
one another, pushing to the finish. The audience of rats squeezed
into the stands squeak and flash their teeth as the little rat advances
past the older, gluttonous ones that feast on the immature or naive.
As the young one rushes to the end goal, a monstrous gnarled
and worn rat pounces on it, crushing its life before leaping to the
finish. The audience hisses with excitement. As this happens, Simon
Northstrum jolts from his nap at the kitchen table, partly from the
bad dream but more from his wife, Alexis, entering the kitchen.
“Have you been up long?” she asks her husband.
“I was watching the news, waiting for the coffee, and fell asleep.
It was a nightmare about a pack of rodents on a track, and an older,
larger rat devoured a smaller one, keeping him from bringing home
the bacon.”
“Good grief, Simon. That’s a great way to start the day! You
might switch to decaf.” Patting him on his head, she asks, “What’s
in the news today?”
“More madness,” Simon responds. “Another smashing day in
heaven.”
“Well, personally,” Alexis tells him, “I can never see the news
until I’ve at least had one cup of coffee.”
Simon stands, pours his wife a cup of java, passes her the cup,
and kisses her cheek. “Good morning.” Alexis responds, “Morning, hon.” She takes a sip of coffee. “So in
your dream, are the big, old rats still winning the rat race?”
“Looks like it,” he grumbles. Alexis reaches up and grabs the
bowls for breakfast as Simon gets the cereal from the cabinet. A yell
comes from the hallway.
“Mom! Mom! Where is my blue skirt, the one with the stripes?”
Alexis responds to their daughter, Emma, “It’s in your closet.
Look closer. It’s in there.”
Simon mumbles, “Must she tear her room apart each morning?”
“Love, it’s a girl thing. She needs to see all her clothing options.”
Changing the subject, Alexis asks him, “How is the job hunt going?”
“I’m still considering the offer from SassyApps.”
“But you’ve not phoned them back?”
“No. It’s a long fall from being the primary software engineer for
the Martian rovers to receiving offers only from companies making
useless applications that suck your time, brain power, and privacy. I
don’t know if I want to do stupid stuff.”
Alexis holds her cup in both hands before she sips her coffee.
She peers over the brim of the cup at her husband of eighteen years.
“Honey, I don’t enjoy working at a funeral home. It’s depressing. But
we are a team working together.” After taking another sip, Alexis
continues. “You’re a brilliant engineer, and I’m proud I’m the only
woman around who can tell people her husband talks to robots on
other worlds. But honey, our family is in this world, and you need to
take every possible offer. It may be a punch in the gut, but the offer
is good, at least until JPL gets more funding.”
Simon pauses and sips some coffee. “I wrote JPL a proposal on
reestablishing the communication they lost with Opportunity and
maybe even help them find Sojourner, Spirit, and Curiosity, which
are just plain lost, period. It’s on Norm’s desk, but the military is
monopolizing the rover manpower for communication and trolling.
They’re not even considering my proposal.”
“Are you interested in getting into the communication end and
helping with cybersecurity?”
“No way,” Simon responds without hesitation. “I’ll sell knives
The Treacherous Selfie
3
door-to-door before I’ll work for those companies. In that business,
it takes one corrupt bureaucrat who wants to gain power.”
“But—”
Interrupting her, Simon continues. “Power and money are their
exclusive domains, and they’ll use the information collected to target
people, groups, and specific jobs that don’t side with them. They’ll
tell you it’s for our security, with no evil intended—until, of course,
they can sell the data for a decent gain. If you believe them, I’ve got
Florida swampland to sell you. The more I talk to cybersecurity
people, the more I’ll stick to my robots.”
Simon and Alexis glance toward the hall as movement disrupts
the conversation. Their red-haired daughter makes her way into the
kitchen with her cell phone resting between her ear and shoulder.
All of a sudden, Emma screams as her phone slips from her
shoulder and crashes to the tile floor. The battery flies out the back
of the phone, coming to a rest under the cabinet.
Looking at the scattered phone, Simon shakes his head and
glances into his cereal bowl “I’m not buying a new phone,” he
mumbles.
“I heard that, Dad! The phone will be fine,” Emma replies.
“Who are you talking to so early in the morning anyway? When I
was your age, we had rules. People didn’t call before or after a certain
time unless there was an emergency.”
“It’s Sophia, Dad, and it is an emergency.”
With light sarcasm, Simon responds, “Has she a medical problem?
Should we call EMS?” Alexis glares at him and signals at him with a
hand gesture to quit harassing Emma. He nods in resignation.
“Gee, Dad, chill. This is how we communicate today.”
“Yeah, but are you listening?”
Alexis steps in with, “Simon, will you drop off the donated
clothes at the church office?”
“Sure, hon. I’m mailing more résumés. I’ll do it on the way.”
Somewhat sternly, Alexis looks at Simon and tells him, “You call
the job offer.”
“You got a job offer, Dad?
“Yes, Emma, only not in my field. I would create applications for
communication companies.”
“Wow! If you make a great one, like the old Farmville or Angry
Birds, you and Mom can retire to an island.”
“I can’t envision being the person wasting everyone’s time,” Simon
replies to his daughter’s excitement. He then turns his attention
toward a TV reporter who is beginning a story on the government
use of computer surveillance to track people’s emails and their use of
the internet and cell phones.
“See what I mean?” Simon asserts. “That can’t be good.”
Emma, gulping down some cereal, gets up, leaving her dishes
on the table.
“Emma,” Simon tells her, “help out and put your dishes in the
dishwasher.” Emma mumbles while complying.
Alexis looks at the clock. “Emma, are you dressed for school? The
bus will be here before long.”
“No, Mom, but I will be in just a few minutes.”
Simon turns toward Alexis and says, “Honey, you’d better get
going yourself. I’ll finish up things in the kitchen before my shower.”
Alexis sweeps toward the hall, patting her husband on the way.
“Thanks, honey.”
Simon stands and watches as his wife moves down the hallway.
He leans against the doorway and muses about how lucky he was to
find her. He then turns back to the kitchen and the TV news.
“Hello, folks,” the attractive blonde host says, “and welcome back
to America’s Newsroom. There’s a fast-breaking story coming from
the Johnson Jet Propulsion Labs, commonly known as JPL. They’re
experiencing difficulty contacting Opportunity, the current Mars
rover. There may be a problem in the communication software. You
may remember this robot sent amazing images and data from Mars.”
Simon winces. “I left you software to help with this problem. But
you military morons running the show now have to use your own
material. It’s bogus.”
“Hey,” Bill, the male cohost, interjects, “here’s a scary thought. Is
the government watching the rover’s communication?”
“I don’t know,” his cohort, Martha, responds. “But if they oversee
everyone else, why not the rovers?”
“Martha, if it could be talking with aliens, then they’ll probably
be looking at you immediately,” Bill teases. “Stay tuned, folks. We’ll
have much more coming after the break, if I’m still around then.
Hope to see you back shortly.”
Emma yells from her bedroom, “Dad, can I go to the mall after
school? Sophia and Amber are going.”
He shouts back, “How are you getting there?”
“I hoped you could take us.”
Simon shakes his head in disgust. “You have five minutes to
get on the bus, and you are making plans to go to the mall? I can’t
manage it. I’ve got work to get done. Also, there’s the rehearsal at
church tonight. You need to do the mall thing another time.”
Emma enters the kitchen. “Gee, Dad, don’t bite my head off.”
“Sorry. I have a great deal going on. Can we schedule it for later
this week?”
“Sure, Dad, whatever,” she responds, looking disappointed.
Simon turns toward his daughter, looks at her incredulously, and
says, “Emma you’re not going to wear your hair that way, are you?”
Alexis enters the kitchen, wagging her finger at him. “Emma,
will you get my purse in the hallway?” Emma hurriedly leaves the
room. Turning toward her husband, Alexis tells Simon, “The girls
are wearing their hair that way. She looks like a big haired country
artist from the fifties and was that an ornament from the Christmas
tree in her hair? You remember your hairstyles back in the day? This
is a battle we don’t have to fight. It’s cute, quirky, and different. And
it’s okay.”
Bewildered, Simon replies, “What happened to the little girl who
thought I hung the moon?”
“I know you think our beautiful child has become an alien,
Simon, like your rovers hope to find on Mars. But loosen up. I read
that we’ll get our child back in about ten years.”
“Great! A few years ago, I was a genius, and now the amoeba and
I are comparable in intelligence.”
“Emma still adores you. She’s just fanning out her wings and
flexing her independence.”
“I’ll say she is! It’s God’s way of giving you gray hair and making
me bald.”
“My hair isn’t graying yet, old man.” Alexis pats Simon’s head.
“And you still have most of your hair.”
Simon stands, turns his wife around, and embraces and kisses
her. Looking into her eyes, he says, “Thank you for helping by
working. I promise I will get us back on track soon.”
“I’ve never doubted you, and God has a plan for you.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard. But I didn’t get the playbook yet.”
“Honey, don’t doubt yourself. We’re behind you in whatever
you do. I can work at the funeral home while you explore things.”
Glancing up at the clock, Alexis says, “I have to get moving.” Flitting
away, she grabs her keys and heads toward the garage doorway.
“Alexis,” Simon calls to her. She turns. He then says, lightheartedly,
“You know you work with a bunch of stiffs, don’t you?”
She smirks at his corny joke. “Next,” she responds, “you’ll tell
me, they are dying to get in there. Go take your shower, and call the
app people.”
“Yes ma’am.” He salutes as Alexis departs. And then, turning
his attention to Emma back in her bedroom, he asks, “Emma, you
ready?”
Emma enters the kitchen with her hair fixed differently. He gives
her a once-over and says, “You look nice.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You’d better get on down to the bus stop. Are you and Lennon
ready for the practice at church tonight?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty easy, but, yeah, we’re ready.” She pauses and
then says, “Oh, by the way, since we’re not going to the mall today,
I’m going over to Sophia’s after school. We’re going to work on a
project. I’ll stay over for dinner. She said her parents could take me
to the practice. I’ll text Mom. You can just pick me up when it’s over.”
“No problem. That’s fine.”
As Emma begins to exit the kitchen and turn toward the garage
door that leads outside, Simon, in his less combative, more usual
manner, says, “See you later, alligator.”
“After a while, crocodile,” Emma responds with a smile as they
recite the parting phrase frequently used ever since Emma started
school.
Simon grabs his smartphone from the kitchen counter, looks up
a number in his contact list, and presses the number for SassyApps.
When the receptionist answers, Simon gives his name and asks
to speak to Mr. Barrows. “Hello, Simon,” Barrows soon answers.
“How are things going?”
“Doing pretty well,” Simon replies. “I just wanted to let you
know that after discussing your offer with my family, I will accept
the position.”
“Oh my, Simon. I’m embarrassed … but when we didn’t hear
back from you … well, we went with our second choice. You were by
far our first choice, but we assumed you might seek something back
in the space program.” There is silence on Simon’s end of the line.
Barrows breaks it by saying, “Simon, I’m sorry. I do hope you find
something—and I wish you all the best. I’ll certainly keep you in my
files … just in case something comes up.”
With disappointment and a shot-down feeling, Simon closes
with a pleasant “Thank you. I appreciate it. And I appreciate your
making the offer in the first place.” He slams his phone onto the
counter much harder than intended, mumbles a low “Crap,” picks up
the phone, and heads to his in-home office.
There he presses print to get more résumés. The printer begins
its gyrations as he leaves the room for his shower. He opens the
shower door, sets the water temperature, closes the door, and begins
to undress as he waits the forty-five seconds it takes for the warm
water to reach the nozzle.
After being assured he won’t experience the rude awakening of
being splashed with ice water, he reopens the shower door and steps
into the spray and a rejuvenating morning shower. His palms lie flat
on the tile wall in front of him as he lowers his head so water flows
over his head and back.
He prays dictatorially, “Father, I don’t know what you’ve planned
for my life, but I pray every day and I try to listen for your answers.
I’ve worked hard, played by the rules—but, well, it seems good people
often finish last. How do I feed my family and provide them with
a good life? I’ve continued to study—to keep on the cutting edge of
things—and I’ve invested in extra hours. Keeping my nose to the
grindstone has gotten me nowhere. And now, well, I’m straining to
trust in you.”
Wiping water mixed with tears from his eyes, he continues.
“God, you said, ‘Ask, and you will receive. Search, and you will find.
Knock, and the door will be opened for you.’ God, I’ve knocked,
sought, and asked, but nothing has opened or been received.” Simon
sobs, breaks down, and slumps to the shower floor as the water hits
his chest.
Between sobs, Simon wails, “Okay, God, here’s the deal. You
said, ‘Let me in.’ Well, here I am. Change me. You have one month.
In one month, if nothing has changed in my life, we can part ways. I
will consider your sayings a way of keeping people from going crazy
even when prayers never get answered and people cling to hope.”
Simon stands, pushing his face into the spray and mumbling,
“Who am I talking to?” He shakes his head to remove the nonsense
and finish his shower. After turning off the nozzle, while exiting the
shower, he slips on a loose tile and falls backward with a thud. After
seeing a few stars, he lies back down again. He closes his eyes and
mumbles, “What else can go wrong?”
Eventually he dresses, takes his résumés from the printer, stuffs
them in the previously addressed envelopes, applies the stamps, and
heads out the garage door. While backing the car from the garage,
he notices the bag of clothing Alexis has placed on the backseat. As
he travels the route, he recalls the good years and the excitement to
get to work that sometimes caused the thirty-minute ride to pass in
a blink.
He begins thinking that maybe today his rovers might discover
something amazing on Mars and make it possible to bring back
the research funding—and his job. He fully understands the
government-funding world—how if you can’t show something
amazing, your funding disappears.
This leads to him thinking about how the military gets funding
because they need to show only how they can kill the most people.
However, now the drive is to the post office to send out résumés.
He feels rather useless and handcuffed.
On the way to the post office, Simon stops off at Saint Thomas
Catholic Church, grabs the bag of clothes, and departs the car.
Making his way toward the rectory, he sees Father Irwin, a tall
man in a black cassock, coming his way. As they meet, Father Irwin
stretches out a large hand, greets him with a warm smile, and says,
“Good morning, Simon. How are you?”
“I’m good, Father Irwin,” he replies as they shake hands.
“I see you’re playing Santa today,” Father Irwin says, pointing to
the bag on Simon’s shoulder.
“Yeah. My red suit is at the cleaners,” he says with a low, forced
laugh. “Alexis is in her declutter phase, so she asked if I could drop
these off. They’re all clothes.”
“Wonderful. The Ladies of Charity will give them to those in
need. Sorry to hear of your downsizing at JPL.”
“Yeah, but, well, that’s the way it goes.”
“I feel for you, Simon. Quite a few in the church are experiencing
some hard times. But I’m sure that you, with your talent and abilities,
will find something. I know I’m praying for you; you can count on
that for sure.”
“Thanks, Father. I’m praying also, of course—but I’m not getting
many answers right now. I guess I’ll need to pray harder. Surely
something will break soon.”
“How are the robots?”
“I don’t talk with JPL much since the military is in more control
now, but I have my grapevine. Three of the robots seemingly have
been lost, and the news report today said they were having problems
communicating with Opportunity in recent days.”
“Didn’t you write much of the software?”
“Yeah. And the Reliance program I created is sitting in a JPL
computer, unused.”
“This could be the opening for you to help them fix the problem.”
“The military purged the original designers for cheaper people
to peruse the data. It’s not a big priority for them, because the robots
can’t blow something to smithereens.” The priest doesn’t say anything.
Simon breaks the silence with “Pardon my language, Father.”
“I can understand how frustrating this might be for you, Simon.”
Changing the subject, Father Irwin injects, “Is Emma coming to
rehearsal tonight? She’s a good stagehand and helps out all around,
and I think her friend Lennon is quite the talented musician.”
“Yeah, we’re planning on bringing her—and probably Lennon.”
“Simon, can you possibly see that Lennon gets home? His father
has missed picking him up several times. I think Lennon has to walk
home. And, as you know, things are not as safe around here as they
used to be, especially after dark.”
“Sure, I’ll get him home.”
“Simon, I have some confessions coming up in a few minutes, but
before I go, let me ask—are you going to be able to make the next
Bible study session?”
“I’ll try, Father. But, well, honestly, I’m not feeling very positive
about the book right now.”
Father Irwin places a hand on Simon’s shoulder, looks him fully
in the eyes, and says, “Don’t lose faith. Remember: we are on God’s
time, not ours. Prayers don’t always turn out the way we think they
will. Things will get better.”
They exchange goodbyes, and Father Irwin turns toward his
office while Simon heads toward his car.
Emma has made her way around the corner to the bus stop.
Even though her father pitched a fit that morning about her hair,
she readjusts it. She feels a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.
While standing at the corner waiting, Emma hears the roar from
the bus engine coming up the road. Her name bellows from down
the road: “Emma! Emma!” She turns to see Lennon Thomas in full,
quick stride, making his way toward her at the bus stop, a backpack
bouncing from his shoulders as he trots.
He reaches her saying “Hi” in between gasps. A big smile crosses
his face as he gazes at her. His time spent with her at the bus stop in
the solitude is his favorite time of the day. He wishes sometimes the
bus would not come, but he knows she doesn’t understand his feelings
for her. “You look nice today,” he says.
“Thanks. So do you,” Emma replies. “You’re running late today.”
“Yeah. My dad wasn’t feeling well this morning.”
A frown appears on Emma’s face because she’s heard this many
times. She reaches up and adjusts Lennon’s trademark brown beret.
“That’s better,” she says as she smiles.
“You ready to face the gauntlet again today?” he asks.
Rather sarcastically, Emma responds, “I love walking the bully
walk to our seats.” She then pleads, “Please, God, let it stop.”
“You’re prettier than any of those stuck-up girls.”
“Thanks, Lennon.”
The yellow behemoth approaches, and the noise of the brakes
catching is startling. The door swings open, and Mr. Foster, the
bus driver, meets them with a smile. They climb the steps and
turn, searching for two empty seats. They wind their way through
the aisle, trying not to make eye contact or attract attention. The
only remaining seats for two are behind Jennifer Bittle, the bane of
Emma’s existence.
Jennifer Bittle thinks she is the queen bee at school. She’s pretty,
and she knows it, flaunting it to hurt others—especially girls. Her
father is the mayor, and she constantly reminds everyone of that.
The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree, with her father flaunting
his position. Lennon and Emma sit, and it begins.
Jennifer turns and says, “Hey, Emma, has your father found
work yet?”
“No,” Emma replies.
“I am so sorry. I could see if my dad can find something for him.
Like, there is a Department of Transportation position for work on
the highway.” Jennifer snickers as she turns to her posse of girlfriends,
known as the Bittlets, who join her in giggling at Emma. Emma
takes it, just sort of shaking her head as she looks away.
Lennon attacks. “Hey, you bobble-headed bleach blonde, do you
always use ‘like’ before or after every word you speak? ‘Like’ is a
simile. If you would read something other than a clothing catalog,
you’d know when to use it.”
Jennifer responds, “Like, whatever!”
“Don’t you get it, you moron? ‘Whatever’ is not an object; you
can’t be ‘like’ a ‘whatever.’ You should remove it from your vocabulary
until you grow up enough to use it correctly.”
Emma smiles, enjoying Lennon’s takedown of Jennifer.
Lennon pipes up again. “Hey, Jennifer, did you go to a boxing
match last night? How did you get the bruise on your cheek?”
Jennifer thought the makeup had covered the bruise. Her posse
is quiet.
“You must not be great at boxing,” Lennon continues. “Remember:
you gotta keep your arms up.” He demonstrates, raising his arms and
covering his face in a rope-a-dope fashion.
Jennifer, who had twisted slightly toward him, turns in a huff
and stares straight ahead.
Lennon turns to Emma. “Don’t let her get to you. Your dad will
find something. Her dad is just a politician who thinks they are
royalty and the rules only apply to us peasants. Your dad sends these
great machines to other worlds and talks to them. Cool. Your dad
is like Q.”
Emma looks at Lennon. “Who’s Q?”
“Remember? He’s the guy in the James Bond movies, the scientist
who creates the cool stuff. He has weapons, cars, guns, and the
coolest of gadgets. James Bond would be toast if it weren’t for Q.
The same with your dad. We would not have robots on Mars if it
weren’t for him.”
“I never thought of it that way—that Dad is so cool.”
“Yeah, and her father is just a creepy politician you can’t trust.
When they write the history books, he won’t even make the footnotes.”
A hand grabs Lennon’s shoulder. He turns and looks up. It’s Greg
Mindoro, a senior at school, standing in the aisle. “Hey, Beatleman.
We need a guitarist for our band.” Greg has long, stringy black hair
and dresses in black from head to toe. He goes on to say, “When are
you going to stop playing your grandparent’s music? It’s the four Ds
today, baby—depression, death, darkness, and destruction. That’s
what people want to hear.”
Lennon replies, “I’m pretty satisfied with what I do. Haven’t
decided on this other music yet.”
“Well, our band SureDeath may have a gig at the Demon Den.”
“Does it pay?” Lennon asks.
“Only if you’re part of the band. Are you entering the upcoming
talent show?”
“Yeah.”
“You going solo?”
“Probably. I’m thinking about it.”
“You should do it as part of our band,” Greg says, pointing at
Lennon. “You need us. I’ll get back to you about the Demon Den
gig.” Greg turns and retreats to his seat.
Emma touches Lennon’s arm, saying, “You should stay away
from him.”
“Why?” Lennon asks.
“He’s morbid. Not everyone is into darkness. I like your music.
Greg’s music is just not you.”
“Thanks, but it’s hard to find gigs as a solo act. I need to make
extra money. The talent show has a cash prize, and my guitar won’t
hold out much longer.”
“If you go with him, he’ll screw you. He doesn’t have your best
interest at heart, but he’ll take your skills. He’ll end up stabbing you
in the back. That’s my opinion.” Emma turns away and looks ahead.
There’s a brief silence before Emma turns back toward her friend.
“Lennon, how is your father?”
“He’s okay.”
“But he still hasn’t been able to move on after your mom’s death?”
“Yeah, I guess not.”
“Lennon, if you ever want to talk, you know I’m here for you.”
“We’re fine. My father will get out of his funk.” There’s a brief
pause before Lennon asks, “Did you do the research for your book
report?”
Emma recognizes the change of subject and doesn’t pursue the
topic of Lennon’s father, realizing it’s still a sore spot for Lennon. She
knows Mr. Thomas has been drinking since Lennon’s mom passed
away two years ago. She worries that Lennon must be both a kid and
a parent to some degree.
The bus makes its way to the school entryway at Planetary High
School, with students already standing in the aisle, waiting for the
bus to stop. Mr. Foster swings open the door, and the students begin
their descent. Emma glances out the side window to see if her best
friend, Sophia Lopez, is waiting for her. They have repeated this
ritual at the bus drop-off since grade school. Emma steps from the
bus with Lennon trailing.
Sophia rushes up to her, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her
toward the school while saying, “Hello, Lennon.” Lennon nods as
the two girls begin talking.
Not being able to contain it, Sophia says, “Emma, you’re not
gonna believe this, but Bobby Fuller said hello today on the bus.”
They face one another, jumping up and down screaming.
Emma turns to Lennon and says with a smile, “It’s a girl thing.
I’ll see you in homeroom.” The girls speed away through the school
entrance, with Lennon trailing.