The ReAwakening
A FICTIONAL novel by Ewan MacAllister
A Note for my Friends
This series starts with Book 1 – The Depopulation.
The first in a series of books named The ReAwakening.
Other books include Book 2 - The Decision and Book 3 - The Awakening.
The series is focused on the surveillance state that we live in today and what it might (have already) become, and the associated impact and consequences on the people of the United States and other countries.
The Episodes are narrated via Wondercraft AI. Get yours today at
https://www.wondercraft.ai/?via=myvoice
Starting with the development of a new IT system, the main characters must work their way through this brave new world of parallel society - those who leave technology and those that thrive on it. As the story moves along, the divide becomes bigger and bigger.
As you probably figured it out, I am writing and rewriting this book.
I hope you enjoy. If you want to comment or make recommendations, please send an email to ewanmacallister@pm.me to add you to the collaborators.
Book One - The Depopulation
Forward
This book is dedicated to my wife, family, and friends, who, after listening to me ramble on about this topic and that, provided many hours of guidance.
Please note - this book series is fictional. While many of the items in these books have been pulled from current and past headlines, the story and the capabilities are all just a part of my imagination and have no relation to any real-world capabilities.
However, I have envisioned what could happen here in the United States based on what has happened in other countries. I will cover the need for a "social credit score," the Environmental, Social, and Corporate Governance (ESG) Score, and the impacts of New Monetary Theory as much as I need to for the book.
I have been writing this book for a while and had to rethink the whole plot series as current world events have surpassed my original ideas and visions.
For most of the book, each chapter starts with a quote, whether from a well-known person such as Benjamin Franklin or from a character in the book. Some chapters also include a Bible verse. I am in no way an expert on the Bible, but some verses seemed fitting, and I wanted to include them.
Episode 1 - The Beast Discovered
"I am a pessimist. As such, I am rarely surprised. Being prudent and preparing for the worst is the difference between success and failure."
- Bryan Guthrom McDonald with apologies tpo Benjamin Franklin
Washington DC, The Hay-Adams Hotel, Thursday, June , 2028
Bryan McDonald stood at the rooftop bar of the Hay-Adams, his weathered hands wrapped around a glass of Highland Gaelic Ale. The familiar taste transported him back to summers in Pitlochry, where his grandfather, Old Hamish, had first taught him about awareness. "Yer eyes, lad," Hamish would say, "they're no' just fer seein' what's there, but fer spottin' what shouldna be."
Scanning Lafayette Square below, Bryan automatically cataloged every detail: two men in suits (government contractors, based on their credentials hanging from cheap lanyards), a woman with three shopping bags (irregular walking pattern, likely tired rather than suspicious), and a maintenance worker who'd been checking the same park bench for fifteen minutes (definite red flag).
"Monsieur Motier would not approve of this project," he muttered, his accent thickening slightly as it always did when his thoughts turned dark. The Scottish burr he'd inherited from his father, Guthrum Alexander McDonald – "Bobam" in the old Gaelic way – seemed to emerge whenever his guard was up.
Bryan's fingers absently traced the Celtic knot pattern on his watch face – his grandfather's last gift before passing. The intricate pattern reminded him daily of the interconnectedness of all things, a lesson that seemed particularly relevant now with what he'd discovered in the Hermes system.
"Hey there, folks!" A cheerful voice cut through his brooding. Megan, their regular server, approached with her characteristic warmth. Bryan's eyes automatically noted the slight differences in her appearance – new shoes (more expensive than her usual), a small ink stain on her left cuff (fountain pen, unusual for her), and a barely perceptible tension around her eyes.
Something's off, he thought, filing away these observations as he had been trained to do since childhood. His father's voice echoed in his memory: "The devil's in the details, son. Miss one, and it might be your last mistake."
"I've got something special today – the most tender poached salmon you've ever tasted, straight from Marica Kiesel's kitchen."
Bryan suppressed a grimace, remembering his grandmother's perfect smoked salmon in Inverness. Americans never quite got it right, always trying to improve on perfection. It was like their approach to security – adding layers of complexity when simplicity would serve better.
"What are the drink specials?" he asked, deliberately shifting the conversation. "I'm waiting for Ted and have other dinner plans." His eyes continued their practiced sweep of the rooftop – eight potential exits, twelve customers, three staff members, two security cameras (one obvious, one hidden behind the vintage Hay-Adams sign).
"Well," Megan replied, "we have a lovely strawberry-infused martini, and of course, Mr. McDonald, we have your Highlands Gaelic Ale."
"Thank you, Megan. I'll stick with my usual. This week's room number is Base plus 55." The room number system might seem paranoid to others, but Bryan had learned early on that paranoia was just preparation in disguise. His grandfather's words rang true: "Paranoid, they'll call ye. Right up until the moment ye're the only one left standing."
The system was simple but effective – a base number known only to him and his chosen server, different for each staff member he trusted. This week's room 303 worked out perfectly as Base plus 55. After having his identity stolen twice last year, such precautions felt less like paranoia and more like common sense.
"Isn't it time for a new Base Number?" Megan teased. "You've been using this one for 47 days."
Bryan's internal alert system pinged. Megan had never counted the days before. He kept his face neutral as he replied, "You're right, Megan. Perhaps next week we start fresh." His mind was already cataloging this anomaly alongside the other subtle changes he'd noticed in her behavior.
As Megan walked away, Bryan's training kicked in automatically. He noted her path to other tables (efficient but with one unusual deviation), her interaction patterns with other staff (slightly more formal than usual), and the way she kept glancing at her phone (new model, likely within the last week).
"Trust your gut, lad," his grandfather's voice whispered in his memory. "It's the wisdom of your ancestors speaking through your bones."
Right now, his gut was screaming that something was very wrong. The Hermes system, Megan's subtle changes, the maintenance worker who'd finally moved on after seventeen minutes at the same bench – it all felt connected, though he couldn't yet see the pattern.
Ted's arrival interrupted his analysis. His friend ordered an iced tea and settled into the chair beside him, immediately picking up on Bryan's tension. After ten years of working together, Ted had learned to read the subtle signs – the slight tightening around Bryan's eyes, the way his accent shifted just slightly towards his Scottish roots when stressed.
"Okay, what did you say?" Ted asked, his voice low.
Bryan took a careful sip of his ale, using the motion to scan the rooftop one more time. "Never share secrets until you've cleared the ground," his father had taught him. "And even then, assume the walls have ears."
"Seriously," Bryan whispered, his voice dropping to match the soft burr of the Highland winds he remembered from childhood, "these Hermes databases we're working on – they're not what we thought." He paused, scanning the nearby tables before continuing. A couple to their left was too engrossed in their phones to be listening, but the businessman three tables over had angled his chair slightly in their direction since they sat down.
Bryan switched to Gaelic, something his father had taught him for moments requiring absolute privacy. "Tha e nas miosa na bha dùil againn." It's worse than we expected.
Ted, who'd learned enough Gaelic over their years of friendship to follow along, replied in kind, though his American accent mangled the ancient words. "Dè cho dona?" How bad?
Switching back to English, Bryan took another slow draw from his ale, using the motion to check the rooftop's western corner where a new group had just been seated. "I did a lookup of myself in the system. Found all kinds of information. Most of it wrong – deliberately wrong, like it was planted." His fingers traced the Celtic knot on his watch again, a nervous habit he'd developed after his grandfather's passing. "They've got me listed as a naturalized citizen, pages of Facebook groups I supposedly belong to. Hell, Ted, you know I don't do social media under my real name."
Ted's face paled. "Bryan, tell me you didn't..." He stopped as Bryan's hand twitched slightly – their old signal for potential surveillance. Years of working together had taught them both the value of subtle communication.
"The access logs are clean," Bryan continued, his voice casual but his eyes sharp. "Like my grandfather used to say, 'Leave no trace, make no wake.'" The maintenance worker from the park had reappeared, now wearing different clothes but sporting the same government-issue boots. Amateur mistake.
"What exactly did you find?" Ted asked, his iced tea untouched.
Bryan leaned back, appearing relaxed while his mind categorized every detail around them. Two new security cameras had been installed since his last visit – one disguised as a decorative fixture, the other hidden in the rooftop's greenery. The hotel was upgrading its surveillance. Why now?
"I looked through mine and my immediate family's records – Eliza, Lillabeth, and Lane." He thought of his daughters, so different yet both inheriting his hypervigilance in their own ways. "Did some housekeeping, removed those planted false groups. But Ted..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "The system can do more than just store information."
Ted's expression shifted subtly. "Define 'more.'"
"We need to go dark," Bryan said, reverting to the tactical language of his military days. The businessman three tables over had ordered another drink despite his first remaining untouched. Definitely listening.
"What does that mean?" Ted asked, though Bryan suspected he already knew.
"It means exactly what it sounds like. Leave everything electronic in your room. Meet me outside." Bryan stood, dropping enough cash on the table to cover their drinks plus a generous tip for Megan. Old Hamish had taught him to always tip well – servers notice everything and remember everyone.
As they headed for their rooms, Bryan's mind raced through the implications of what he'd discovered. The Hermes system wasn't just a database; it was something far more insidious. His father's words from years ago echoed in his memory: "In this new world, son, the most dangerous weapons aren't the ones that fire bullets. They're the ones that rewrite reality."
The thunder rolled again, closer now, and Bryan felt the weight of responsibility settle deeper into his bones. The same weight he'd carried during his Navy days, when lives depended on his decisions. His grandfather's voice echoed in his memory: "A McDonald never runs from a storm, lad. We face it, plan for it, survive it."
"Ted," he said, his accent thickening with the weight of his words, "I need you to swear to me that what I'm about to tell you stays between us." The stakes were too high for anything less than absolute certainty. "This isn't just about our jobs anymore. This is about everyone's future."
Ted nodded solemnly. "I swear."
Bryan leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I was exploring Hermes, I found something that shouldn't exist. The system isn't just collecting data – it's creating it. Entire histories, social media presences, digital footprints that look real but aren't. It can fabricate a person's entire online existence and backdate everything to make it seem authentic."
He watched Ted's face carefully as understanding dawned. "How authentic are we talking about?"
"Very authentic and in thirty minutes," Bryan replied, the words tasting bitter. "That's all it took to create an account, build a history, and generate enough 'evidence' for a FISA warrant. The system can create an entire false narrative, complete with corroborating evidence, in less time than it takes to drink a cup of coffee."
Bryan's mind raced through the implications. His training in Naval Intelligence had taught him to think three steps ahead, but this was like playing chess in four dimensions. The system could create evidence of crimes that never happened, relationships that never existed, beliefs that were never held. It could destroy lives with a few keystrokes.
"There's more," he continued, his fingers unconsciously tracing the Celtic knot on his watch. "The system has different levels of operation: Initiate, Invoke, Investigate, and Incarcerate. It's not just about surveillance anymore – it's about control."
The maintenance worker made another pass, now wearing a delivery uniform but still sporting those same government-issue boots. Bryan's jaw tightened. Amateur hour or intentionally sloppy surveillance? Either way, it meant they were running out of time.
"We need to act, Ted. My father always says, 'Knowledge without action is just guilt waiting to happen.'" Bryan's mind turned to his family – Eliza, with her sharp intuition that matched his own; Lillabeth, teaching special needs children while carrying her own burden of awareness; Lane, combining her mother's attention to detail with his gift for seeing patterns. They all needed to be protected.
"What are you thinking?" Ted asked, recognizing the look in his friend's eyes.
"I'm thinking it's time to activate some old contingencies." Bryan's voice dropped even lower. "Remember that project we discussed last year? The offline backup system?"
Ted's eyes widened slightly. "The one you said was paranoid even for you?"
"Aye," Bryan replied, the Scottish burr prominent now. "Sometimes paranoia is just preparation in disguise. I've got a secure facility outside of DC. We need to document everything we've found, but we can't trust digital storage. We go old school – paper, photographs, physical evidence."
The first fat drops of rain began to fall, but neither man moved. Bryan's mind was already formulating plans within plans, just as his Naval training had taught him. He thought about the River Retreat, his property in North Carolina. The hidden room beneath it that only family knew about. The emergency protocols he'd established with his Mutual Assistance Group (MAG).
"Ted, I need you to do something for me," Bryan said, his voice taking on the crisp tone of command he'd used in the military. "Don't look for me after today. If anyone asks, we had a disagreement about the project. You tried to talk me down, but I was being paranoid. Can you do that?"
Ted studied his friend's face. "You're going to disappear, aren't you?"
"Not exactly. But I need to move some pieces into place." Bryan thought about the supplies cached at strategic points between DC and North Carolina, the network of trusted contacts he'd maintained since his Navy days, the carefully constructed alternate identities that had nothing to do with digital records. "Things are about to get complicated, and I need to protect my family."
Thunder cracked overhead, and the rain began to fall in earnest. The maintenance worker had disappeared, but Bryan noticed a new figure in a business suit entering the square, speaking into what appeared to be a bluetooth earpiece. The surveillance was escalating.
"One more thing," Bryan said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, worn leather pouch – another inheritance from his grandfather. "If you don't hear from me by next Thursday, there's a storage unit in Arlington. Unit 227. This is the key." He slid the pouch across the table. "Inside the unit, you'll find everything you need to understand what's really happening with Hermes. And instructions for reaching me if things go bad."
Ted took the pouch, his hand trembling slightly. "Bryan, this feels like goodbye."
"Not goodbye," Bryan said, managing a slight smile. "Just tactical repositioning. My grandfather used to say, 'The best place to weather a storm is where you've already built your shelter.'" He stood, adjusting his jacket against the rain. "Remember – we never had this conversation. You think I'm being paranoid. Stick to that story, no matter what happens."
As they parted ways, Bryan felt the weight of his decision settling into place. The Hermes system was more dangerous than anyone realized, but he had been preparing for something like this his entire life. His father's training, his grandfather's wisdom, his Naval experience – it had all led to this moment.
Above them, nearly invisible against the darkening sky, a small drone hovered silently, its cameras recording every word, every gesture, feeding data back to the very system they were discussing. But Bryan McDonald had learned long ago how to operate in plain sight while staying in the shadows.
The storm was coming, but he would be ready. His family would be ready. And somewhere in the digital maze of Hermes, a truth waited to be exposed – a truth that could either save them all or destroy everything they held dear.
His grandfather's final words came back to him: "Remember, lad, the strongest trees bend with the wind but keep their roots deep." Whatever was coming, Bryan McDonald would face it with the strength of his ancestors and the wisdom of his training.
The rain was falling steadily now as he walked away from Farragut Square, his mind already plotting courses and contingencies. The time for watching and waiting was over.
Now it was time to act.
