New to The Alexandria Project? Find a plot synopsis and guide to the characters here, find the earlier chapters here, and follow the Further Adventures of Frank on Twitter
Frank stepped out of the dark, moonless night of the Nevada desert and into the bright light of the bar, restaurant and motel that was the Little A’Le’Inn. Along one wall ran a counter with stools and the backsides of a couple of locals. Behind the counter he saw a waitress, cash register, and a modest assembly of liquor bottles that apparently constituted the bar. That took care of the predictable part of the room. And then there was the rest.
Despite the odd spelling, there couldn’t be much doubt over the meaning of the café’s name. Hung on pegboards, sitting on shelves, and hanging from the ceiling was an impressively random collection of just about anything you might (or might not) imagine could be presented with an extraterrestrial theme.
New to The Alexandria Project? Find a plot synopsis and guide to the characters here, find the earlier chapters here, and follow the Further Adventures of Frank on Twitter
Brian Williams stood center stage in the NBC Nightly News studio, as always impeccably dressed and at ease in a conservative business suit. He shared a last quiet joke with the intern straightening his tie, and then on cue turned to the camera. As always, he read the day’s headlines from the teleprompter with a serious expression. Then, with a warm and slightly wry smile, he alluded to the “Making a Difference” segment that would close the broadcast. As always, he concluded with the signature phrase, “Nightly News begins now.”
His brief pre-recording chore accomplished, Williams strolled to the expansive news desk from which he would orchestrate the rest of the evening’s show. He settled in as the big digital clock on the wall counted down to the 00:00 display that meant Air Time had arrived.
New to The Alexandria Project? Find a plot synopsis and guide to the characters here, find the earlier chapters here, and follow the Further Adventures of Frank on Twitter
Two and a half days after dropping off the map in Washington, D.C., Frank staggered off a Greyhound bus in Las Vegas, Nevada. Though tired and dirty, he felt more energized over the task at hand than over anything else he could recall in years. Now it was time to get down to work! But first, he had to find his ride.
With his knapsack slung over one shoulder, Frank scanned the bus terminal for anyone that might be Earl Jenkins. He had assembled a mental picture of the kind of man that would post an ad in Millennial Survivalist and Assault Rifle Monthly, and had assumed it would be easy to pick him out of a crowd. Problem was, it now appeared that just about anyone that arrived in Las Vegas by bus might have the same reading habits. Now what?
From time to time I've run into people that have more than one blog, and have usually wondered how that came about, and also how it was working out? Often, I've noticed, one of the efforts ends up petering out, left abandoned and forlorn, with that one last, lonely post waiting hopefully for the next to come along, which it never comes. With each passing day, the blog becomes less visited, soon to be found only by random Web searchers that skip out as soon as they accidentally arrive. Poor Blogger. Poor blog.
It was 8:00 AM and CIA agent Carl Cummings was already having a bad day.
With Frank on the run, Carl had just two responsibilities: protecting Frank’s daughter Marla without her knowledge, which was a pretty ho-hum job, and protecting Frank, which at the moment was impossible. But the tasks were still connected, since he figured his best shot at finding Frank was by intercepting a message between father and daughter. The problem was, Carl had once had a fling with the daughter that didn’t end well, and he knew she despised him. Needless to say, he couldn’t tail her personally.
New to the Alexandria Project? Find a plot synopsis and a guide to the characters here, and the earlier chapters here. You can also follow the Further Adventures of Frank on Twitter
Frank was leaning back in his cubicle chair, feet up on his desktop. That way he could keep an eye on Carl Cumming’s office down the corridor. The guy must have the bladder of a camel, he thought. Wouldn’t he ever need to relieve himself?
Finally, Cummings emerged, and Frank leaned forward nonchalantly, still tapping away on his laptop. Once the agent had passed by, though, Frank leaned backward again.
Good. Cummings was headed for the reception area door - and now he was through it. Frank waited for a minute to pass, then grabbed his coat and his more than usually full backpack and walked slowly up the corridor, waiting for Cummings to return.
Once he saw Cummings through the reception area glass, he walked the last few steps to the reception desk. As expected, Cummings noticed Frank’s coat. Trying to appear as if a headline had caught his eye, the agent picked a newspaper up from the reception area coffee table within easy earshot. Perfect.
New to the Alexandria Project? Find a plot synopsis and a guide to the characters here, and the earlier chapters here. You can also follow the Further Adventures of Frank on Twitter
While CIA Agent Carl Cummings was being taught to heel, Frank was sitting at his kitchen table, tapping away at the cramped keyboard of a cheap netbook connected to a neighbor’s unsecured WiFi network. Even this was risky, he reminded himself, so this brief session would have to be his last until he moved on.
A few taps more and he had logged on to the bank account of the Pangloss Game Company. Mentally crossing his fingers, he clicked on the link for an account that simply read “iBallZapper.” When the new view displayed, the number that immediately caught his eye was in the balance column, and that number was $247,396.78. A slow smile of victory spread across Frank’s face as he hit the refresh button. The number jumped upward by another $1,238.42. It seemed that his plan was unfolding nicely.
If the question posed in the title to this entry puzzles you, consider the following: yes, it’s reasonable to assume that you will be able to open a document tomorrow that you create today. But how about opening that same document ten years from now? Here’s a hint: have you tried to open one you created ten years ago? Maybe that didn’t work so well. Twenty years ago? Not a chance.
Get the idea?
New to the Alexandria Project? Find the first and later chapters here. You can also follow the Further Adventures of Frank on Twitter.
“Oh, good morning Agent Cummings! Mr. Marchand would like to speak to you.” The normally sullen receptionist smiled brightly at the handsome young agent.
“That’s nice. I’ll get around to it.”
“Oh, but he said right away – just as soon as you arrive. He’s in the conference room right there.” Mary pointed to the door at her right.
Carl gave a nonchalant smile and walked on. Who was George to be telling him what to do?
Ten minutes later, coffee cup in hand, he strolled past Mary again, rewarded her with a smile, and opened the conference room door without knocking.
To his surprise, he saw his CIA boss sitting next to George, and next to him, the head of the CIA’s cybersecurity division, Michael Armstrong. He got a much bigger surprise when he heard Armstrong call George “Sir.”
Carl slipped quietly into an empty chair and decided it was high time he started listening more carefully to what George had to say.
Our story so far: Now under surveillance, Frank begins to plan his escape. Read the first chapters here, and you can also follow the Further Adventures of Frank on Twitter.
Arriving at work on Monday, Frank found a Post-it® note on his monitor with three words: See me – George. It looked like the week was about to get off to an interesting start. The question was how?
When Frank arrived at George’s office, his boss motioned him to sit down. Then he slid a single sheet of paper to the edge of his desk.
“This arrived in the mail on Saturday. Be sure not to touch it. I don’t want your fingerprints on it.”
Frank recognized the logo at the top of the letter immediately: a tall, ancient looking building that might be a lighthouse. Startled, he looked up at George.
"Read it."
Frank pulled his chair up to the desk, leaned over, and did as he was told.