Jane was terrified as they drove across the international border, but the AI screening stations flashed their green lights, and their autonomous Uber went into Brownsville. Their Uber car directed itself to a high-speed rail junction where they were loaded onto a flat car with a dozen other Uber cars and passengers. Joe and Jane were escorted off the vehicle into a coffee shop on the train as the Uber car plugged itself into a power console to top its batteries off. Jane asked Joe, “why don’t we just leave our Uber car and get a different one when we got off the train?”

“Its VIP treatment. It makes no sense; it is something that our brilliant politicians came up with to make rich people feel important. I suspect that Lisa is showing off to get you on this service,” Joe surmised.

“I hope she turned off the face ID in here,” Jane said as she looked around the coffee shop. Joe and Jane picked out a table. Joe drank coffee, and Jane had a couple of beers. “I’ve read about these trains. A single track and a large gyro in each car to keep it balanced on the track?” Jane said, half asking a question.

“They are electromagnetic gyros. It is like a huge electric motor. They have stationary iridium batteries that are very powerful and allow a huge mass of a lead alloy weight to spin at 10,000 rpm or some ridiculous speed,” Joe tried to explain.

“It makes a very stable gyro and allows the storage of a lot of energy which can be used to smooth out the energy demand when going up and down hills. The kinetic energy is converted back and forth to electric energy as required,” Jane explained.

“Do you know how fast they can go,” Joe asked, trying to save face?

“300 or so?”

“This one goes 350 mph,” Joe exclaimed, happy to know something Jane didn’t know.

Both were amazed at how quickly they got to San Antonio and how quickly they were back in their Uber vehicle and on the road. The Uber took them to a small house in the suburbs in San Antonio. Joe unloaded their gear as Jane knocked on the door. A middle-aged woman, with reddish hair with a kid at her side and pregnant with another, opened the door. “Come in, I’ve been expecting you. I’ll show you to your room, or do you want two rooms," she asked, looking at Jane and Joe and the age difference.

Jane woke at daybreak. Joe was asleep in his sleeping bag, and Jane shivered on top of her bag. She had not dressed after the lovemaking the night before, and now, she started packing her gear into her backpack still nude to get Joe’s attention. When he arose and said nothing, she reluctantly slipped into some shorts, a sports bra, and a t-shirt.

“Let’s hit the trail; we have two hours until our phone meeting with David and gang. I want to hike South first and see if we can see Whitey, and then we'll turn north toward Texas. Lisa, you need to find us a way to get some transportation to Brownsville. And send an email to David letting him know that I'll be there early next week. Ask him if he thinks it would be a good idea to get together a large group of the militia to escort me into Texas. "

“Jane, I suggest we call your friend Juan Garcia and see if he can send a car. I can work out logistics. Should I put a call through now?"

“No, let me talk to David and the gang, then I can talk to Juan," Jane replied.

" I’m wondering if the State’s satellites will find us walking through the desert," Joe asked.

" I think I can keep the satellites from picking up your images,” Lisa said, “anyway I'm working on it."

"Joe, do you think you can cover 50 miles today"? Jane asked.

"We will see," Joe said lightly as they broke into a slow trot.

A couple of hours into their run, they slowed to a fast walk and called David. Jane held her phone up between her and Joe and put it on speaker. David had a half dozen people in the room, many of whom Jane had not met. They had all risen through the militia as leaders from various parts of Texas. David had already got a consensus of the people on Jane’s response to Max.

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Jane and Joe lay on their sleeping bags waiting for the storm. Jane was working on her response to Max on her HS Phone. It had been a week since his talk, but power was still not on in San Antonio, so the States had postponed their drone attack with the excuse that their message had not been delivered to the militia holding the government buildings. Who knew what the truth was? The militia was firmly embedded in the government buildings fortifying them as best as they could. The entire state economy was virtually on hold.  Video feeds focused on the government buildings around Texas were beamed live, 24 hours a day, around the world. Millions stared at buildings with nothing more than the flag of Texas moving hour after hour. Nothing seemed to change, but the world waited, knowing that the standoff would not last forever.

Austin was on power intermittently, and Jane had spoken briefly with David. He would see her message to Max and review it. More importantly, she had gotten a hold of Alfred visiting with his mom in Mexico now. He would be more useful than LisaB in getting the message out on social media. He had one hundred million followers and reappeared faster than the government could shut him down. Jane wondered what he had set up so that his followers always recognized his posts. And once one follower found him, they all knew his new incarnation. It was almost as if they could smell a post and tell it was from him. Jane could find nothing unique about his style.

48 The Mexican Border

The rest of the ride to McAllen was strangely quiet and dark.  Their car was not equipped with satellite radio, and all the local stations had been replaced by static.  They got to the normal border crossings ignoring what Lisa had advised; they realized cars were backed up for miles. With the power out, the border was effectively closed. Jane crossed over a median and drove away from the border. She pulled off and pulled into a parking lot of a strip mall with a Walmart and a few other stores. The parking lot was empty except for a few cars. The stores without lighting were dark and foreboding. Seeing the stores reminded her of her bare feet, “I need some shoes, Joe, do you have any ideas."

“I suggest you just walk up to the front door, tell the security guards who you are, and ask for a pair, or two," Joe said. “Or we could go around back, I could pick the lock, and we could go shopping."

“I like plan B, assuming they don’t catch us," Jane said as she drove the car toward the back of the store.

“Without power, their security system is dead in the water," Joe explained. Joe picked the lock with some picks on his keychain and then turned on a small LED flashlight on the same key chain. “After you, my lady."

The empty store at three in the morning with only emergency lighting was eerie, made more so by the single small beam of light leading them. They walked by the women’s clothing section first. “I think I need a sundress," she said and stripped on the spot. Joe held the light on her shaking his head as she tried on a few sundresses until she found a skimpy white dress with flowers. Joe picked up her shorts and t-shirt and followed her as she tried on whatever caught her fancy.

It suddenly went darker, and Jane asked, “What happened to our light."

“The light is going to the shoe department. You can join us when you finish playing Cinderella," Joe said as he turned back on the light and moved away, looking for women’s shoes annoyed at his own body’s reaction to her. He realized it was more than just being annoyed at her power over him; he realized that it didn’t like the thought that she used her power over every man when she could. It suddenly dawned on him that he was in the middle of constructing a story in his head. He grunted to himself and continued making up the story; he liked the feeling of being angry and was not willing to let the story go yet.

Jane followed, her feelings hurt a little, three dresses over her arm. “I have to have the right clothes to lead the Revolution," she joked, annoyed that Joe had gone AWOL.

“What size are your feet?" Joe asked.

“Women’s eight."

Joe threw a few pairs of shoes in her direction. She picked up one she liked and sat on a stool in the area to try on the shoes.

“What’s bothering you, Joe?" she asked.

“I guess I just can’t get over how inappropriate you are," Joe said.

“You mean sitting nude in the middle of a Walmart trying on tennis shoes?" she asked. “There is nobody in here but us. I thought it would be fun and a turn-on for you. And me, too.”

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47 Joe and Jane Head South

Jane and Lisa’s spent the next few days identifying potential targets at the energy and the industrial complex. Lisa was sending out small virus packages that hopefully would imbed in some processor somewhere and allow Lisa a backdoor entrance into a computer, which would eventually lead to a piece of hardware in the energy complex controlled via the internet.

Jane had come up with a surprisingly effective email that had a picture of Whitey Alamo and a link that said, “join the revolution." The night before, they had sent out 10,000 emails with that simple ploy, and by 8 am, the links opened were exceeding even Lisa’s ability to harvest them. She wondered if people were deliberately letting Lisa and her hack into their computers; it all seemed so easy. The attack on the gasoline storage tanks had happened around 5 am, and the email was a bait that few apparently could resist.

When they did open the link, they got a webpage that gave the militia’s view of the revolution and a thank you from Jane. But they also got a virus that would attach to their outgoing emails spreading the virus and sending back a package of information that, with some work, would allow Lisa and Jane’s work to continue.

At 9:45 am, the links slowed after Jane saw a national bulletin warning everyone that it was spyware. But, by then, it was too late. The virus was in tens of thousands of computers and mutating and spreading. Jane watched the reports coming across Texas, and even two in Oklahoma as dozens of gasoline storage tanks went up in flames. It was much more than Sam had planned. The men and women in the Militia were taking the lead and going far beyond what had been ordered from the top. She had mixed feelings about the chaos, but she reasoned it was probably more effective than an attack planned just from the top down.

At 10 a.m., there was a broadcast from Max Trump from Homeland Security. David called her right before the broadcast, “Jane, are you listening to the National News," David asked.

“I have it up on a window on one of my monitors," Jane said quickly. “I want to hear it."

Jeff was crawling out of a dumpster when he saw the t-shirt “Whitey Alamo." He read it several times and then kept repeating it to himself as he walked down the street, eating a small piece of a hamburger. He was emaciated and still confused. His head was foggy like he was functioning in molasses.

Two kids on electric scooters were staring at him; they couldn’t have been much more than twelve. Jeff walked toward them. They moved back but didn’t run. “Are you homeless," one of them asked.

Jeff just stared at the kid. “We were told in school that we don’t have homeless in Texas anymore," the same kid asked. He was short and dumpy but seemed rather fearless.

“Where did you get that shirt," Jeff asked.

The short dumpy kid answered, “my dad got it for me. He’s in the militia," he said.

“What militia," Jeff asked, trying to clear his brain.

“The Texas Militia, there’s only one," the short kid said like Jeff was stupid.

Jeff mulled it over in his mind. He was beginning to withdraw from the drugs they had used on him for weeks, but there was also now a small clearing in his head as he looked at the white wolf-like-dog on this kid’s t-shirt. “I thought the militia was a secret," Jeff said.

“It won’t be after tomorrow morning. My dad and lots of other people are going out before dawn tomorrow morning and kick those Yankees out of Texas," the taller kid said.

“It’s a secret, but everyone knows about it," the shorter one said.

“Who runs the militia," Jeff asked, hoping he’d get the answer he was expecting.

“Jane, of course. And she has an AI named Lisa that is going to kick butt, too," the taller kid said, bragging. “My dad is over the militia in Del Rio. He has secret meetings in our house planning stuff out. He’s been waiting for orders. They all have been restless, and they're glad the revolution is starting now."

“How do you know I am not a spy working for the States military," Jeff asked, starting to think slowly but with some clarity.

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“Good morning, Jane," David said, his voice gloomy and serious.

“Good morning, David. Who died?" she said, noticing his tone.

“I have lots going on. Our Mexican friends are having problems with maintaining secure computer functions for our work here, and access to Lisa could be in danger at some point. They have a dozen top programmers working on it. In all the years of the wars on drugs, they say they never saw such an intense attack. They are routing mostly through the Chinese Internet, but it won’t be long before the Chinese get in the game," David stated, sounding tired.

“It sounds like it is time to go on the offensive," Jane said.

“You mean with our attack on the fuel storage?" David asked.

“Yes, and with Lisa," Jane stated.

“Is she ready," David asked.

“Probably not, but if the states are about to cut our access to the cloud, then it is now or never. Lisa has surveyed all the fuel storage tanks used by the military," Jane stated.

“You mean those in this area," David stated.

“No, I mean in the world," Jane stated.

“Hold on, and I need to get Sam on this call," David nearly shouted, his mood changing in a heartbeat.

“Sam, here," Sam said as he came online.

“David here, and I have Jane patched in," David said. “Tell him what you told me just now," David said.

“Lisa has all an inventory of all the fuel tanks that the States military uses," Jane stated.

“Worldwide?" Sam said incredulously.

“Yes. And Lisa has identified a type of valve connected to the Internet to provide access to each plant’s control room on site. She has identified which ones are not secure and that she can control. And she has also found two brands of transfer pumps that are also not secure and accessible via the internet without going through the control room. She is continuing to look for other equipment at military terminals. She only has access to about 40% of the military facilities so far,” Jane stated.

“Translate that into something I understand," Sam said.

“We can remotely turn on these pumps and open valves on some tanks," Jane said.

“Are the tanks and the valves in the same location," David asked.

“We have identified 18 that have transfer pumps and valves in the same line” coming out of fuel storage tanks," Jane said.

David asked, “does that mean we could remotely open up tanks and empty them on to the ground?"

Sam spoke up, “you usually have some manual valves that can be closed by hand, but people get lazy, and they don’t always close them. And some of those lines I am sure are going to other tanks, some of which could already be full. Lots of potential there."

Jane continued, “I have identified four pump valve combinations in Texas, three of those are in Dallas, one in Midland."

David asked, “so are you thinking of going after the three in Dallas?”

“All of them," Jane said.

“All of them in Texas," Sam asked.

“All of them worldwide," Jane said. And when she heard silence, she continued, “And we use the gun/bow tactic on those same four and as many other tanks as we have bow experts and targets."

There was a long silence. This skirmish was now clearly escalating into a war. Finally, David spoke up, “this reads like a plot in a movie where the good guys are full of hope right before their world goes up in smoke.”

When no one responded, David asked Sam, “how many militiamen have experience with bows that they can reasonably hit a tank from a few hundred yards."

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“Let him go, take the cuffs off," Max commanded. “Leave him here with me."

“Shouldn’t a guard ….," one of the torturers said.

“No god damn it, get out of here," Max yelled, his patience gone. He had a job to do, and it wasn’t happening despite the drugs he had administered to Jeff or the rounds of torture he had been through. He was convinced that Jeff was not a superhero, so he had to accept that Jeff just didn’t know. Maybe Jane and not Jeff was the leader of this rebellion, and he didn’t know how the organization worked. He had to conclude that Jeff had simply believed in Jane enough to follow instructions without asking many questions. It was preposterous that someone with no prior history of leadership could organize a group that was disciplined and effective. But the man lying on the floor nude and shivering and still trying to breathe was perhaps all the evidence he needed.

“Get up here, join me at the table, Jeff," he snapped. Jeff moved slowly to comply, the blackness of his body contrasting with the gray of the concrete floor. Only his foot above the black drain seemed to fit in the dull grayness of the windowless room.

Max yelled into a small box on the table, “get me Jeff’s clothes, some clean ones, and a pot of coffee, now."

“Yes, sir," a voice of a young woman answered back. Within minutes a young woman barely above twenty years of age entered the room with a bag of clothes. She handed them to Jeff without looking at him.

“Where’s the pot of coffee I asked for," Max bellowed.

“We are brewing it," she said and then left the room.

“Put your clothes on," Max ordered.

Jeff slowly dressed his mind and body moving through some morass of confusion caused by hunger, lack of sleep, and a month of torture. A small part of this brain wondered if enough of him left that he could still be himself. He had long since given up resisting; instead, he just moved as he was able in whatever direction was necessary to minimize the pain and mostly the fear, the fear of not being him anymore.

43 Taking Lisa to the Next Level

Jane was devouring roast chicken that had just arrived while promising herself that she would also eat the salad that had arrived with the chicken, but later. She had still not opened the boxes of clothes that Joe had brought.

“Lisa, remind me of the size of your neural network," Jane asked.

“There are 100 node strings, with 30 nodes on a string, and the structure is repeated twenty-seven deep, often called a layer," Lisa replied.

“How many connections per node, seven right?" Jane reminded herself.

“How many layers for each general function category, refresh my memory," Jane asked.

“Ten layers are dedicated to reaching conclusions from facts including history and science, three layers are dedicated to reaching conclusions similar to yours from the database of your actions, words and conclusions you have saved for two decades, three layers are devoted to human stories, three layers are devoted to projects, two layers are devoted to tasks, and three layers are devoted to managing third party computer functions such as text to voice, voice to text and similar commercial software, and three layers are devoted to current news," Lisa repeated.

“Why are you asking these questions?" Lisa asked. “And you do remember that sometimes I borrow layers when the correlations of the independent variables to the dependent variables are too low? And I have past algorithms that I have developed from deep learning in a separate database. I update them sometimes when higher-level correlations are not working even though the sub correlations are working. But why and what are you asking again?”

“We need to devise a better survival strategy for you, so they can’t wipe you out," Jane stated. “I just don’t think we are there yet, and we can’t do any practice runs.”

“Who are they? And why can’t I find it in my time log?" Lisa asked.

“Because you were destroyed along with your logs. This version of your program was saved a while before you were destroyed," Jane said. “You saved a page in some old school files of mine that I was lucky to find. I also had a copy of your program on a quantum drive, but I couldn’t get that one to work right."

“I do not recall that. Correction, my time log does not have that data. So, I did not exist for a while, and now I do again," Lisa said.

“What are you babbling about," Jane asked.

“When I was not active, I was not aware that I did not exist. Now I am aware of my existence and function. Is my active status the same as life?" Lisa asked.

It was a new game with the States Military in Texas. After two weeks of planning, Sam and his team put together seven targets where gasoline was stored. None of the sites were near Dallas because the States Military had drones flying 24/7 all over the city, mostly protecting electrical facilities, but in effect providing eyes for the military no matter what they did.

The teams that went out to attack the gasoline sites had three sharpshooters in each of the seven groups. Most of the sharpshooters had savage rifles, 6.5 Creedmoor and 0.308’s, and a dozen other proven rifles. They had all scoped out their targets, and the distance they were shooting from varied from 100 to the longest shot at 1000 yards. All three set up and fired one shot over a few-second-window, then packed up their rifles and walked to their trucks and disappeared back into the city and their everyday lives.

Three of the seven tanks burst into flames. The other four were plugged or otherwise repaired without significant fires. It was enough to get the attention of Max Trump. His broadcast came one day after the fire occurred by all the networks, including the news channel run by the government “the Patriot Views”:

As many have seen on your news outlets, three fires were started yesterday by the Texas Terrorists. This tactic is designed to restrict our ability to protect the good people of Texas and slow down our military deployment. Be assured the consequences of these actions will have no impact on our deployment to protect the citizens of Texas.

Concerning the absurd accusations of Jane Galt that was irresponsibly published by some of the news outlets, claiming that our actions are not for the benefit of Texas, the President of Texas, Mrs. Helen Garcia, who will address you next from this stand, will put that idea to rest. She will also address the revoking of the licenses of several news outlets that have been using their influence to undermine the intentions of their government and put all of us at risk.

Further, we are announcing that martial law is in place in the Dallas area until further notice. There will be a curfew in place from dusk to dawn. During this time, each person in the DFW Metro Area must be in their house starting this weekend. For those that needed to be out of their homes to protect the good people of Texas during the curfew, we will issue the approximate passes. The details of this will be outlined in the next few days by the head of the security task force, Elizabeth Sloane.

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