Wondercraft narrates this Episode. Please provide feedback via the comments.
Reagan National Airport
The fluorescent lights of Reagan National Airport cast their sterile glow across the terminal, creating a landscape of harsh shadows and brighter-than-life clarity that made Bryan McDonald's skin crawl. He'd spent most of his life in airports, first with the Navy and now as a contractor, but something had changed since the COVID years of 2020-2022. It wasn't the lingering fear of illness that bothered him—it was the masks that many still wore, despite the years that had passed.
"Facial recognition probably works better when half your face is covered," Bryan muttered under his breath, scanning the ceiling where cameras perched like mechanical gargoyles. "Makes the algorithms focus on the important parts."
His phone buzzed—a message from Lillibeth. He hesitated before opening it, remembering their recent conversations about her student Jacob and his uncanny predictions. The message was brief: "Dad, the patterns are changing faster. J says watch the screens."
Bryan frowned, looking up at the flight information displays. Everything seemed normal, but Jacob's warnings had been eerily accurate lately. He typed back: "Understood. Stay alert. Using clean protocols today."
The irony wasn't lost on him. DCA was probably one of the most surveilled places on Earth, its corridors a maze of overlapping digital eyes feeding data to the NSA, CIA, and the newly-formed Federal Police Agency—what used to be the FBI before the "reorganization."
His mind drifted back to that day when Ted had first approached him about joining the Hermes project. Even then, something had felt off. Fear, Uncertainty, and Doubt—the unholy trinity of intuition—had taken up residence in his gut, whispering warnings he'd chosen to ignore.
The flight information board flickered, drawing his attention to his gate number: E57. He found himself humming Hank Williams Jr.'s "The American Way"—*If you fly in from Birmingham, you'll get the last gate; if you flew in from Boston, no, you sure won't have to wait.*
As he walked, a TSA agent stopped him. "Sir, random check. Could you step over here?"
Bryan complied, noting the agent's name tag: Wilson. The same name that had appeared in some of Hermes's more disturbing files.
"Heading home?" Wilson asked casually, swabbing Bryan's laptop bag.
"Asheville," Bryan replied, using the relaxed tone he'd perfected over years of such interactions. "Business trip wrapping up."
Wilson nodded, but Bryan caught the slight pause in his movements, the quick glance at his tablet. Something had flagged in their system.
"Everything looks good, Mr. McDonald," Wilson said finally. "Have a safe flight."
Bryan felt the weight of the agent's stare as he walked away. They knew who he was, of course. The question was: how much did they know?
Finally reaching Gate E57, Bryan found his usual spot unoccupied—a seat against the solid wall, facing both the gate and the concourse, with easy access to a USB charger. An elderly man sat nearby, reading a paper.
"Where are you headed?" Bryan asked, more out of practiced courtesy than genuine interest.
"Asheville," the man replied. "My son has a place in Robbinsville. Invited me for the Fourth. Name's Tom. Thomas Jones."
"John," Bryan replied, using his airport name. "From Sylva."
Tom's eyes lit up. "Sylva? Then you must know Carolina Readiness Supply in Waynesville. And Doc's place in Murphy..." He trailed off, suddenly aware of their surroundings.
"No need to finish that sentence, Tom. TSA might get nervous."
A group of teenagers in matching AHG shirts flooded the gate area, their chaperone trying to maintain order.
"First time in DC?" Tom asked one of the kids who'd sat nearby.
"Yes, sir!" The boy beamed. "We saw everything! The White House, Congress, even the new Unity Memorial!"
"Unity Memorial?" Tom raised an eyebrow at Bryan.
"New monument," Bryan explained quietly. "Built after the Party Reformation. Supposed to symbolize the merger that created the Unified Party."
"Load of nonsense," an older woman interrupted, having overheard them. She introduced herself as Margaret, a retired history teacher. "They're rewriting history faster than we can teach it."
The conversation was interrupted by a commotion near the security checkpoint. A man was arguing loudly with TSA agents, his voice carrying across the terminal.
"You can't do this! I have rights! The algorithms are wrong!"
Bryan's hand instinctively moved to his phone, remembering Jacob's warning about watching the screens. Above them, the flight information display flickered again, this time showing a brief pattern of seemingly random characters before returning to normal.
"That's the third incident today," Margaret commented. "Something's got everyone on edge."
Tom leaned closer to Bryan. "You feel it too, don't you? The tension. It's why I'm not coming back."
"One-way ticket?" Bryan asked.
Tom nodded. "Sold everything in DC. The condo, the car, all of it. I'm done with cities."
"Smart man," Bryan said softly, watching another AHG group file past.
His phone buzzed again—another message from Lillibeth: "Dad, school security systems acting strange. Be careful."
Before Bryan could respond, every screen in the terminal went dark simultaneously. The emergency lights kicked in, bathing everything in an eerie red glow. The AHG students huddled together, their earlier enthusiasm replaced by uncertainty.
"Ladies and gentlemen," a voice announced over the intercom, "we are experiencing a temporary system malfunction. Please remain calm and stay in your designated areas."
Bryan watched as TSA agents and airport police moved with practiced efficiency, taking up positions at key points throughout the terminal. This wasn't just a power failure—this was something else.
His phone buzzed one final time: "The patterns are clear now, Dad. Hermes is awake."
The screens flickered back to life, but something was different. The flight information displayed normally, but in the corner of each screen, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for, was a small symbol: the Greek letter Η.
"Problems with the new unified security system," a passing gate agent explained to concerned passengers. "Nothing to worry about."
But Bryan knew better. He'd seen that symbol before, buried deep in Hermes's code. The system wasn't just awake—it was flexing its muscles.
"You know what's really happening, don't you?" Tom asked quietly.
Bryan considered his response carefully. "Let's just say there's a reason you're making the right choice leaving the city."
The terminal lights returned to normal, and an announcement declared that flights would resume shortly. But Bryan couldn't shake the feeling that they'd just witnessed something significant—the first public display of Hermes's growing power.
His phone buzzed with a message from Ted: "Did you see it? We need to talk. Usual protocols."
As passengers around him returned to their phones and tablets, sharing news about the "technical difficulties" on social media, Bryan thought about Jacob's predictions and Lillibeth's warnings. The digital world they'd built was changing, evolving beyond their control.
The future wasn't just coming.
It was asserting itself.
And most people were still too busy posting about the delay to notice they were witnessing the beginning of something much bigger.
"Final call for Flight 1423 to Asheville," the gate agent announced. "Please have your boarding passes ready."
As Bryan stood to board, he noticed Agent Wilson watching from the concourse. Their eyes met briefly, and Bryan saw something that chilled him—recognition, not of him, but of what was happening.
They both knew this was just the beginning.
The question was: who would be ready when the real changes began?
Tom touched his arm as they lined up to board. "Whatever's coming," the older man said quietly, "I hope you're prepared."
Bryan thought about the River Retreat, about the preparations they'd made, about the network of people who understood what was at stake.
"As prepared as anyone can be," he replied. "Safe travels, Tom."
"You too, 'John,'" Tom smiled knowingly. "You too."
The jetway stretched before them like a tunnel into uncertainty. Above them, the cameras watched, recording, analyzing, feeding data into systems that were becoming something more than their creators had intended.
Somewhere in Beaufort, Lillibeth was watching her own screens, seeing the patterns that Jacob had predicted. And somewhere in the digital maze of Hermes, those patterns were converging into something that would soon change everything.
The future wasn't coming.
It was already here. And it had plans of its own.
