Covert One 5 - The Lazarus Vendetta Read Free

gas-electric cars
were arriving in a steady stream, turning off Interstate 25 and heading up the
access road toward the Institute. He frowned. The promised multitudes were
assembling.
    Unfortunately, it was the potential dark side of nanotechnology that fed the
terrified imaginations of the activists and Lazarus Movement zealots gathering
outside the chain-link fence. They were horrified by the idea of machines so
small they could freely penetrate human cells and so powerful that they could
reshape atomic structures. Radical civil libertarians warned about the dangers
of “spy molecules” hovering unseen in every public and private space.
Crazed conspiracy theorists filled Internet chat rooms with rumors of secret
miniaturized killing machines. Others were afraid that runaway nanomachines would
endlessly replicate themselves, dancing across the world like an endless parade
of Sorceror's Apprentice enchanted brooms—finally devouring the Earth
and everything on it.
    Jon Smith shrugged his shoulders. You could not match wild hyperbole with
anything but tangible results. Once most people got a good close look at the
honest-to-God benefits of nanotechnology, their irra-
    tional fears should begin to subside. Or so he
hoped. He spun sharply on his heel and strode toward the Institute's main
entrance, eager to see what new wonders the men and women inside had cooked up
overnight.
    ■
    Two hundred meters outside the chain-link fence, Malachi Mac-Namara sat
cross-legged on a colorful Indian blanket laid out in the shade of a juniper
tree. His pale blue eyes were open, but he sat calmly, without moving. The
Lazarus Movement followers camped close by were convinced that the lean,
weather-beaten Canadian was meditating—restoring his mental and physical
energies for the crucial struggle ahead. The retired Forest Service biologist
from British Columbia
had already won their admiration by forcefully demanding “immediate
action” to achieve the Movement's goals.
    “The Earth is dying,” he told them grimly. “She is drowning,
crushed beneath a deluge of toxic pesticides and pollution. Science will not
save her. Technology will not save her. They are her enemies, the true source
of horror and contagion. And we must act against them. Now.
Not later. Now! While there is still time . . .”
    MacNamara hid a small smile, remembering the sight of the glowing faces
fired by his rhetoric. He had more talent as an orator or an evangelist than he
ever would have imagined.
    He observed the activity around him. He had carefully chosen this vantage
point. It overlooked the large green canvas tent set up as a command center by
the Lazarus Movement. A dozen of its top national and international activists
were busy inside that tent—manning computers linked to its worldwide Web sites,
registering new arrivals, making banners and signs, and coordinating plans for
the upcoming rally. Other groups in the TechStock coalition, the Sierra Club,
Earth First!, and the like, had their own headquarters
scattered throughout the sprawling camp, but MacNamara knew he was in precisely
the right place at precisely the right time.
    The Movement was the real force behind this protest. The other environmental
and anti-technology organizations were only along for the ride, trying
desperately to stem a steady decline in their numbers and influence. More and
more of their most committed members were abandoning them to join Lazarus,
drawn by the clarity of the Movement's vision and by its courage in confronting
the world's most powerful corporations and governments. Even the recent
slaughter of its followers in Zimbabwe
was acting as a rallying cry for Lazarus. Pictures of the massacre at Kusasa
were being offered as proof of just how much the “global corporate
rulers” and their puppet governments feared the Movement and its message.
    The craggy-faced Canadian sat up just a bit straighten
    Several tough-looking young men were heading toward the drab green