6. The Challenge
John Maxwell knew they were picking a fight with hell. It would get ugly.
It’s already ugly. I want to make it beautiful.
That’s what you do, isn’t it. You make all things beautiful. It was four in the morning.
The dream last night was so vivid—the grassy field sprinkled with flowers, standing with a group of angels getting briefed for a mission. He had asked where all this was going to happen, and the angel next to him said, “Novus.” John knew it was the same Novus that he and Kate had discussed the other day. And then he saw Kate, and she called his name as if surprised to see him. So strange for a dream.
In the dream, Kate said that Sarah was the Seer. He recalled Jessie prophesying over Sarah a year ago, saying the same thing. It was no accident that Sarah had moved from her parents to come stay with them. She’d been with them for a year now. They had watched her reconnect with God and bloom into a young woman full of life and wonder.
John shook his head. She’s not ready for this. She’s too naive.
He’d been mentoring her for a year now, and they frequently discussed life, philosophy, politics, and theology, just like he used to do with his daughter, Destiny. Talks at the dinner table were moments of joy, where Sarah would talk about what she learned at school or who she met that day. Kate was particularly fond of her. He could tell by the way Kate talked about their shared moments together, the same way she used to talk about Destiny.
Sarah’s presence in their home helped to heal the wound of Destiny’s passing. Sarah’s innocence, her joy of discovery, her playful conversation with them—she was a joy to have around and Kate was happier. Kate talked about the future and was tending her garden again. He smiled. Sure, there were times when the tears came back, but his wife had rediscovered her joy and it was beautiful. But the thought of putting Sarah in harm’s way made his gut hurt. God, really? Does it have to be her? He rubbed a hand over his face and whispered aloud.
“Kate’s going to have kittens.”
John sighed as he pushed through the double French doors of his study. Recessed ceiling lights glowed, growing brighter, revealing Mahogany bookcases running the length of the left wall. He loved the earthy smell of old books. They were invitations to explore the wisdom of sages and prophets from days past. This was his space, where history met the present and planned the future.
A woman’s voice spoke from somewhere in the room, gentle and pleasant. “Good morning, John. You’re early today. Is this the start of your day?”
“Yes.”
Opposite the wall of books, a fireplace came alive, sending warm light dancing around the room. To the right of the doors, a panel slid upwards, revealing a coffee machine. It gurgled at him to say it was making his favorite brew. In front of the fireplace was a love seat flanked by two overstuffed leather chairs facing each other. End tables sat on either side of the loveseat to complete a cozy conversation area. Light danced upon the wood floor to the rhythm of the fire’s crackle. The room was almost sacred, as if God were waiting for him.
He was. This was their morning meeting place, and his presence hung in the air like a weighty silence, waiting for him to finish his morning routine and settle in for some face-to-face time.
John let his eyes linger on the many books on the left wall. He had purchased the floor-to-ceiling bookcases from an old library that was being demolished. They came with an old-fashioned library ladder on rollers, which let him reach the top shelves. He’d inherited many of the books from his Grandfather, some from his Dad, and the rest he collected himself. It cost him a fortune. Books made of natural paper were rare now. He’d digitized all the books so he could reference them from his tablet. But he often liked to pull one from the shelf and read the words from the page. He loved the tactile experience, the feel of paper, the smell, turning the pages. It was like holding a piece of history.
The far wall opposite the room’s only door was a wall of windows overlooking the creek that ran by the side of the house. The windows were opaque now. He programmed them to become transparent 10 minutes before sunrise, but that wouldn’t happen for another two hours.
To his right, opposite the wall of books, was a video wall that stretched from floor to ceiling. It displayed a holographic stone fireplace with dancing flames that seemed to leap off the screen. The crackling sounds and popping of wood added to the ambiance. The wall even produced radiant heat to match the fire’s intensity. It was a technological marvel and took his team over a year to perfect this add-on to their video wall, but it proved incredibly popular. Over eighty percent of all video walls were now ordered with the fireplace feature. John stood in front of it, enjoying its warmth, lost in the 3-D dancing flames. It was an uncanny resemblance to the real thing. Sure, it was fake. But what we see and hear isn’t always the whole truth.
“CAITI, security check.”
The fireplace disappeared, and the video wall lit up with various live video feeds from cameras stationed around the ranch, along with those mounted on the four robotic dogs that roamed freely about the property. He had his techs create the dogs after someone broke into their house while they slept and killed their beloved boxer, Rex. It was a bloody and brutal scene when they woke the next morning. Even now he shook off a chill, realizing someone had been in the house and what they could have done. Thank you, God, for protecting us.
His daughter had loved that dog. She was working in DC at the time, and he didn’t want to call her with the devastating news. He never had to. A week later, her boss showed up at the house with Destiny’s personal belongings. It was more than two years ago, but the memory of that moment still hurt. The man said Destiny had died in a chemical lab fire. No body was recovered. Kate collapsed on the floor, screaming her disbelief and pain. He had to be strong, he…
John shook his head. That was two years ago. Can’t think about that now. He refocused on the security footage as it played through the entire night in fast motion using various infrared and thermal overlays. A few images flashed by—a raccoon, some deer, and an owl catching a rodent. Usual stuff.
“There is nothing unusual to report, John.”
“Check on Kate and Sarah, please.”
“Your wife and niece are in their rooms. Their biometric readings are normal.”
“Thank you, CAITI. Back to the fireplace, please.”
The dancing flames returned, and he stood, staring at the fire, transfixed. It was a nice AI system. He’d had his lab design it, and the prototype was installed in his house for testing. During its early stages, his lab techs began affectionately calling it “Katie,” named after his wife Kate. Everyone at the lab loved Kate, who would often wander through the lab visiting with them, asking about their life and work. She had a way of encouraging each person in their unique gifts. He guessed that each of his lab techs thought they were Kate’s favorite, a secret kept between them and Kate. That was her way, her gift, one of many. The name “Katie” stuck, so the techs invented an acronym for the AI system to match: Computer Assisted Interface for Technological Innovation, or C.A.I.T.I. It became a fundamental driver for more innovation, and he decided to rename his company CAITI Labs, Inc.
CAITI was now popular with celebrities, government officials, ranchers, and home builders. Initially, it was a hard sell. People didn’t want an artificial intelligence system monitoring their homes. But really, there was no such thing as artificial intelligence. The computer just followed instructions. Sure, CAITI learned and adapted and could predict outcomes by assessing probabilities. But that was a testament to the human intelligence that gave CAITI her instructions. He caught himself. “Her.” Yes, he referred to CAITI as her.
He walked over to the coffee maker and retrieved his steaming mug. He didn’t personify the coffee machine. And yet, he liked to think of CAITI as a person, a “her.” They all did.
John sank into the leather chair in front of the fireplace, breathing in its earthy tones. He stared at the fire, but his mind wandered back to the dream. God was waiting for him to bring it up.
Tensions between the US and the AU still ran high. It had only been fifteen years since the Great Split. The US was not friendly to their way of life and had moved even further to the political left, embracing more government controls over social and economic life. He had traveled into the US on business since the Split, but to move there?
It had only been fifteen years since the Great Split. Texas seceded, quickly followed by other conservative states, and they joined together to create a federation-style government called the American Union. It launched the country into political and economic chaos.
The split was the end result of a long and bitter battle between different visions of America. The progressives dominated the schools, and so time was on their side. Eventually they dominated the media, the courts and the congress. They implemented their agendas by force of law, creating a sea of underground anger among conservative-leaning states, like lava swelling under an active volcano.
It was the Texas Massacre that made the volcano explode. The images broadcast on social media by the Cartels’ bloody executions of US citizens in their own homes, the resulting coverup from Washington…
John shook the images out of his head. God, you want us to go live in the U.S. now? It’s not friendly to our way of life. Kate loves her Texas ranch and our church here.
Their daughter moved there, and it ended in unbearable sorrow. They counseled her not to take the job in DC. The US was hostile to their way of life. They told her about the hate speech laws and how she could be jailed for openly sharing her faith. They told her there were no churches like theirs in DC. She’d be alone. It wasn’t worth the huge paycheck.
But Destiny insisted. She felt God wanted her to go, that she was like David facing Goliath. So she left, and never came back. They should have stopped her. They were her parents and didn’t protect her. They let their daughter face Goliath and the giant crushed her. Now she was gone.
John shifted in the chair as if somehow he could dispel the weight that hurt his chest. They should have done something.
He sighed. It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s the past. And yet, that same giant was staring them down again, roaring his defiance that all who challenge him would die.
Kate is going to struggle with this. And their niece Sarah? It would break Kate if something happened to her. God, are you sure about this?
But God didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. John knew the answer before he asked.