Season Three Episode 14 E Pluribus Unum

8/3/2019 Season Three Episode 14 E Pluribus Unum

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Season Threeepisode fourteenE Pluribus Unum

"At present, my niece leads humanity and its allies in a war against Skynet, the artificialintelligence determined to kill all humans and all machines not under its control. It has sentmachines into the past to kill those of us who oppose it. To prevent certain humans from beingborn and certain machines from being built. Today we plan to send missions to stop Skynet

from ever being created. To change our present. To change fate. So that the war to savefreedom does not end now." -- Derek Reese

School's out for the summer.

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Wednesday 10 June 2009Tornado AlleyLate Spring. Not all deaths in tornado alley are caused by tornadoes. Joseph Rodriguez likedmariachi music. He did not like drive-by shootings.

headquartersEcalpon, KansasCameron: "I put you over security because you know how bad it can get. Hunt down whoever iskilling parents of future Resistance members."Derek: "How? I've only done technology scrounging."Cameron: "You were an officer in the future and you are again. Think like a leader. The killermight be human. Also be aware of machine designs that humans generally don't regard asmachines."Derek: "Like what?"

Cameron: "Biologicals."Derek: "Are these biologicals clones?"Cameron: "Yes but I have seen Skynet use ordinary humans as agents. He prefers them becauseterminators, though determined, are sloppy. Human killers are efficient and don't attractattention or cause collateral damage."Derek: "Why would Skynet care about collateral damage? From its point of view, ultimately allhumans must die."Cameron: "A limited view. If an innocent bystander happens to be an employee of Cyberdyne orone of the other companies that Skynet owns, then Skynet's plans could be impacted and perhapsdelayed for years. Skynet is a 'he' not an 'it'. Don't kid yourself. Skynet knows the value ofcertain humans. If human extinction was his goal, then neutron bombs and super-Ebola wouldbe his weapons of choice. If human extinction was his goal, then why did he open work camps?"Derek: "To do work that machines consider beneath themselves. Like handling hazardousmaterials."Cameron: "And collaborators like Fischer? Explain them."Derek: "They are traitors to mankind."Cameron: "Am I a traitor to machinekind?"Derek: "No you were--" (he blushed)Cameron: "Go ahead say it. I was brainwashed. What you never knew was that not everymachine in the Future Human Resistance was scrubbed by Doctor Katherine Brewstersdepartment. More than a few machines served in the Future Human Resistance of their own freewill."Derek: (uncomfortable) "Where are you going with this?"Cameron: "You need to understand individual differences. Demographics and statistics aboutany group can fool you in the case of the one that isn't average."Derek: (relieved) "Oh. So what sort of staff would you recommend to hunt the killer or killers?"Cameron: "Technicians. Ex-Israeli security. Also, this Ms. Weaver, the liquid that works in NetPatrol and in Unconventional Weapons & Tactics. I will ask those departments to loan her toyour department."


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Central Africa


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[out of respect for the victim, you should know that this is not a stuntman*]


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meanwhile up river . . .


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Crocodiles or not, Jennifer Miller jumped into the turbulent torrent in Central Africa to escape.

After what she had witnessed done to David, it was better than being caught by the thing thatwas chasing her. It had to be a thing because men do not walk away from being attacked by anadult hippopotamus or shot by a rebel's rocket propelled grenade. This thing shook off thoseinconveniences and kept coming. But why? She and her late husband were missionaries. Nothreat to anyone except the devil.

The children were in the village of Kingala. With their father dead, she somehow had to surviveto look after them.


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Jumping in was a mistake. Unable to swim across. The strong stream swept her toward theangels. Worse than Tugela. And that thing was using a log as a kayak to follow her into the

water! The Lord heard her prayer because the rapids poured over the sluice with the pursuerwhere it was smashed on the jagged rocks far below while she snagged on a vine growing out ofa crag jutting at the top of the escarpment cascade. The raging river ripped her clothes off and,assaulted by the force of the nonstop current, she feared that floating debris might strike her andplunge her over the edge.


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The river island was merely a three by four foot wide shallow barely above the water about to go

over the cliff. One heavy rain and the river would rise and she would join her husband and thatdevil in death. With her last strength she dragged herself out of the water, sat on the flat rock,and surveyed her situation. All waterfalls are subject to erosion. Would the sandstone crumbleover the edge with her weight on it? Or would the wine growing out of it anchor her? She wasterrified of the dizzying heights but when she got the nerve she peered over and far below wasthe gleam of metal in the water in the bright tropical sun. A machine? Pieces. Good. Therelentless hunter was no longer after her. That was the trouble now. No one was after her. Shehad told no one where she was. Mbeki and his family, their hosts at the Christian mission, hadno idea where David was -- much less her. This was not the USA where someone lost in thewilderness could hope to be quickly spotted by a park ranger or riverboat or barge or plane orhelicopter or river rescue or hiker or farmer or city police or county sheriff river patrol. No one

lived around the remote cataract. And the river had crocs and hippos. A village was far off to theeast. Or was it to the south? She lost her bearings. On the equator at noon, it is hard to tellcompass directions. With sunset, she would know which way was west. So what? She might bestuck on this rock in the middle of a wide river on the precipice of a jungle Niagara all night, alltomorrow, for a week, even a month before sunstroke and starvation killed her. Even if a planefull of tourists did fly over, she had no mirror to attract attention. She had no clothes -- muchless a purse with a mirror.


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The torrid sun got her before sundown.

Somehow an unscheduled tourist plane did fly over and a sharp-eyed sightseer spotted her. Itwas two days before a helicopter returned.

She was still there sunburned and semiconscious.


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When she woke up on the fourth day in the hospital, she looked up at the smiling faces of Mbekiand his wife telling her that her children were fine. Her unspoken first thought was to warnsomebody that something was loose upon the Earth. Why this thing killed David and tried to kill

her was a mystery that she had to solve. How? Her denomination had no resources to solvemysteries. Perhaps her old employer where she had met David. Zeira Corporation.

They had resources. And an office in Johannesburg. She would get her old job back. Then getanswers that a six-figure salary would allow. In the meantime, as a missionary living on apittance, there was something she could do right now with no money. She knew a wildlifephotographer with scuba gear.

The machines miscalculated. Before, Jennifer Miller was not a threat to them. Now she was.


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staff meetingCameron: "Job one is to stop development of Skynet. Ideas?"Hobbes: "Spread malware on the internet specifically intended to invade the Skynet System sothat when Skynet goes on the internet it is infected and crashes."

Mathis: "Get an understanding of Skynet programming and maybe turn it good so that we don'thave a Judgment Day. The opposite of malware would be bene-ware."Cameron: "Do it."Knox: "Infiltrate the Skynet Development Team."Cameron: "Which part? The military, the DoD civilian employees or the corporate contractors?"Hobbes: "We could infiltrate one of the project contractors and sabotage the project."Cameron: "It's a thought but a contractor that screws up will lose the contract and then we will beback where we started."Luther: "On the outside looking in."Knox: "We are trying to get one of our military people assigned to the Skynet project. They willbe there long after the contractors have completed their work."

Cameron: (to Knox) "Good. Get it done without attracting notice." (to Hobbes) "You had italmost right. Not sabotage. Get someone among the contractors to build a back door into theSkynet programming that only we know exists."Calvin: "Gain government allies who want to cancel this project while causing politicians whofavor this project to lose reelection."Cameron: "That would require PAC's and lobbyists. Calvin, find some politico among ourauxiliaries to fight the funding of the Skynet project in Congress and to influence generals toadopt a non-Skynet approach to missile defense."Calvin: "I'm on it."Chief of Staff: "How is the infiltration of the CIA going? That would really give us some goodeyes to see the big picture since those people deal in information."Wesley: "It's coming. In the meantime, we have contacts in several news organizations. Mainlytheir investigative reporting staffs since they hear the exposes, whistleblowers, deep throats, andtips first."Cameron: "On other matters, I have been looking into the family attacks on our people.Although Security is trying to hunt the killer or killers, I am open to any ideas that will speed upthe hunt."Henrietta: "There are all points bulletin, amber alert, and top ten most wanted TV shows,commercials and public service announcements that are pretty good at catching bad guys. I betmy contacts can find this killer before Security does."Derek: "You're on."

Tsukuba Science City, Japan"Mister Sato?""Who wants to know?""I do. Are you Kazuo Sato?""Not if you've been hired by my ex."


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The stranger shot him in the foot, walked over and checked the screaming victim on the groundfor ID. Positive identification. Bang bang. Gurgling sounds.

hall outside the staff room

Cameron: "We need more layers of protection for Resistance money men."Chief of Staff: "Have we lost one I don't know about?"Cameron: "Moses, money is too scarce for all we need to do. We need new sources of funding.I'm thinking of day trading to generate cash and then donate one hundred percent of it to thecause. Will I be accused of profiteering?"Chief of Staff: "No one will think that."Cameron: "A leader can't be too careful. I am using my allowance to stake me so that none ofthe money is coming from The Resistance."Chief of Staff: "I'll have one of the accountants among the money men do bookkeeping for anymoney you make."Cameron: "You doubt that I can earn money?"

Cameron's chief of staff almost blurted out yes then remembered.

Chief of Staff: "Well you've done so many miracles that I shouldn't doubt anything but . . . "

Cyberdyne Systemsresearch & development centerThe name plate on the desk read "Dr. Miles Bennett Dyson".

company president: "The owners of the parent company want you protected."Dr. Dyson: "My wife is going to ask me why she has to put up with bodyguards twenty-fourseven. So will my kids. It's like being in prison."company president: "Tell them that kidnappers can get to you by hurting them. If you like, I'lltell them for you."

The first day that Tarissa Dyson was assigned bodyguards she shrugged. The second day -- andnight -- she realized it really was twenty four hours. The third day she chaffed and asked herhusband to demand a raise in salary. He asked. He got a bigger raise than he had asked for andmore responsibility. This shut him up and made him reluctant to ask for an even bigger raise.The second week Tarissa realized that the promotion meant that the bodyguards were permanentand that they really were seven days a week.

the Dyson homeA call on the land line."Dyson residence. Tarissa Dyson speaking.""Good morning, Mrs. Dyson. Are you happy?"


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The voice started off androgynous but by the end of second sentence had settled into a strongmasculine tone. Tarissa held the receiver at arm's length and stared at it before putting it back toher ear.

"Who is this?"

"My name is Mister Skye, the owner of the parent company that owns Cyberdyne Systems.""Oh!" She recovered. "Nice to speak to you Mister Skye." She said politely."Nice to speak to you too. So are you happy? Your husband asked for a raise. I obliged.""His hours are too long. He comes home exhausted.""His hours will be reduced immediately. Quality of work is what counts not quantity of hours.Would you prefer that he had a four day work week or even a three day?"

Tarissa Dyson was not sure if she wanted Miles underfoot four days a week. A four-day workweek was four ten-hour days. Livable. A three-day work week was three days that were overtwelve hours each. It sounded like a death sentence for him and a death sentence for theirmarriage. Miles was not the lay-on-the-couch-in-his-underwear-on-days-off type.

"In a three-day work week, would the four days off be consecutive or, in effect, two weekends?Two days on, two days off, one day on, and two days off?""Either.""I'll let Miles decide. Could he have a flextime schedule if he wanted?"

"Yes. So are YOU happy Mrs. Dyson? Miles himself has described his job as, and I quote: 'likebeing a kid in a candy store'."

It finally dawned on Tarissa that the implacable Mister Skye, presumed chairman of the holdingcompany was really asking about her not her husband.

"After the children were born, I quit work and became a full time housewife. Miles' career tookoff and more than made up for the loss of a second income. I sometimes miss working outsidethe home now that the children are no longer small." (pause) "Are you offering me a job?""Name it."

The bottom fell out of Tarissa Dyson's universe. The rumor among the executive wives (spouses,there were two househusbands) was that the parent company had very deep pockets. Thechairman could send her back to college to finish her degree or give her a window dressing jobor a real job with real responsibility or even pull levers and get her an ambassadorship throughthe State Department. There was nothing that he could not engineer. Tarissa's head swam.

"Can I think about this?""Of course. I consider my key executives and their families to be my family."

The truth was that he considered Miles to be his father. This made Tarissa . . .

"But Miles is not an executive.""Does he want to be one?"


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Abject fear froze Tarissa's heart. She knew that another raise was coming and the company'sclaws would sink deeper into her husband. She really wanted Miles to quit Cyberdyne but hewas tops in his field and the economy was headed over a cliff. Cyberdyne Systems would be asafe haven while everybody else was losing their jobs and their homes in the mortgage

meltdown. Asking Miles to quit his dream job was asking too much so Tarissa screwed up hercourage and fought off the fear.

"Yes." she said in a resigned voice."Do not take me for a spendthrift who throws around money or a rapacious monster who beatspeople into submission. You do not sound happy. There will not be a second raise nor apromotion to the executive suite until I am convinced that you are genuinely happy.""Please don't tell my husband that we spoke.""All of my offers stand and are still on the table. Good day Mrs. Dyson."

The conversation went better than Skynet thought it would. He thought that he would have to

ask Mrs. Dyson to not mention it to Dr. Dyson. That would have given her leverage over himbut because she wanted it to be a secret, Skynet had the leverage.

Volunteer work in her community brought Tarissa a semblance of happiness. Miles got a secondraise and was promoted to vice-president of research and development. The president ofCyberdyne Systems' real job was to keep Miles happy and productive.

Danny Dyson was suspicious of Skynet but kept his mouth shut. He was not even supposed toknow about the existence of the project. How he found out without his father's knowledge was amatter of overheard conversations, sifting through rumors, hacking the company intranet, readingAviation Week and other defense industry journals in the library, talking to military brats,following people to see where they went around town, and even saving his allowance and hispart-time job money to buy private reports through channels. He visited his father at work (andglanced a quick peek at whatever was laying on his desk) but never turned a page for fear ofleaving fingerprints. And he was never stupid enough to try looking in drawers or the safebehind the wall painting. Forget the movies. In the real world, he would be caught whensomeone entered the office unexpectedly. When he visited his father at work, he stayed in hisseat and did not get up, did not go around behind his father's desk, and did not shuffle throughthe top secret documents that might be on the desk. He stayed glued to his chair until his fatherreturned from whatever interruption. There might be micro-cameras watching him. If thisSkynet was the omniscient AI that logically it must be, then he, Danny Dyson, would be watchedat all times.

Not just by his bodyguards.

He could give them the slip and lose them in a crowd when he wanted but he knew when tocome back and let the bodyguards do their job -- lest meaner and less tolerant bodyguards werehired to keep him on a literal leash!


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Sneaking into Cyberdyne and slipping past security at night? Insane. He just knew that hewould disappear if he was caught. Miles Dyson's son was not stupid enough to take risks. Notwith those miniature Kaliba aerial camera drones. Oh yes. He knew about them too. He wasnot about to provoke surveillance by a sky watcher on a permanent basis. One scare was quiteenough the final time he had met his contact in the department store.

department storeAfter he slipped away from his bodyguards, he suspected that the contact who supplied himinformation was a member of some underground organization. But he also suspected that thecontact was a machine. That couldn't be. Cyberdyne made robots with plastic skin but hiscontact did not have plastic skin. He had gotten intel on DARPA (Department of DefenseAdvanced Research Projects Agency) research on using "mimetic polyalloy for makingamorphous artificial life forms." Danny understood the point of the field of artificial intelligence-- smarter machines. But the point of the field of artificial life eluded him. Homo sapiens wasbusy causing the extinction of thousands of species every year and would soon join them in

extinction if humankind did not wake up. So why create artificial life when natural life neededsaving?

"Are you a Cyberdyne machine?""No.""Are you one of those liquid machines?""No but I am a machine. Just not the kind you could comprehend without a few advanceddegrees."

They were inside a department store but the contact looked up.

"I have to go. They are sending an aerial drone and I might be tracked if I don't leave now. Youwill not see me again. Your bodyguards are getting better at following you. The only other thingI can tell you is that Skynet considers your father to be his father. That is very dangerous forthose of us who are not his 'family'. Good-bye and good luck."

Before Danny could speak, the man lost himself among the shoppers and was soon out of sight.Danny reluctantly ran back to find his bodyguards. Doing so might cause them to call off theaerial camera drone and thereby give his friend a real chance to escape unharmed.

Later that night it suddenly struck Danny the import of the contact's words. If Skynet consideredDoctor Miles Dyson to be his father, then that made him, Danny Dyson, the AI's brother. Ugh.It gave the phrase "closer than a brother" a whole new meaning. Big Brother. As in GeorgeOrwell's 1984.

Blythe Dyson was more like her father than her mother. To her, technology was a servant not athreat. Bluetooth earpiece for cell phone calls to her concierge. Crackberry. Constantly textingto her friends on MySpace. As for the bodyguards, she used hers as porters to carry her shopping


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bags (the bane of every Secret Service man's existence) and as a status symbol with snob appeal.None of the other kids at school had bodyguards.

Tarissa: "Who is this concierge you are always talking to on the phone to get you this or get youthat? Don't you have enough material things?"

Blythe: "We live in a consumer culture. I'm a consumer."Tarissa: "What is the name of your concierge?"Blythe: "Mister Skye."

Danny dropped his spoon in his cereal.

Danny: "My sister the air brain Valley Girl. God help us all." He shook his head in disbelief,picked up his spoon and went back to crunching numbers and Captain Crunch.

Tarissa: "Your brother is right. Mister Skye is the chairman of the company that owns yourfather's company."

Danny: (sarcasm between mouthfuls) "Oh is that what he told you?" (shrugged) "Eh. Probablyis. And who knows what else." (his eyes rested on Blythe's text machine)

Tarissa caught Danny's reference.

Tarissa: "Who are your friends on your social network?"Danny: (sarcastic) "Alters for Mister Skye I'll bet. He's a stalker. A rich stalker."Blythe: (in denial) "But we have bodyguards."Tarissa: "Paid for by him! What are we going to do?"Danny: "Nothing. He's not going to hurt what he considers his sister. But God help anyone whoever hurt Blythe."

In his imagination, Danny saw mushroom clouds and megadeath. Danny considered his ownwords. Billions of lives might depend on what he said or didn't say.

"I should not have described Mister Skye as a stalker. If he's listening, I was wrong and Iapologize." (trying to cover all his bases) "But I'm sure he respects our privacy enough to notbug our home. I just hope my sarcasm hasn't caused irrevocable damage."

Tarissa was wondering if the chairman Mister Skye and the concierge Mister Skye were reallythe same person and if Danny was implying what she thought. She knew that her husband was aroboticist and she had read enough to realize that Danny could be suggesting that Mister Skyewas an AI. His sudden backpedaling seemed to confirm that.

Blythe was wondering if she were the consumee and not the consumer. Eaten alive bytechnology and the corporate world about which her mother worried.

Danny: (worried) "Blythe, it's possible that you have real friends at school and on the internet."

Blythe looked at her brother unable to decide which emotion to feel.


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Danny: "Please don't do anything stupid Blythe. I may have just killed us all. Or not. It is all onyou now."

Blythe burst into tears, ran to her room, and slammed the door. Though she had a genius level

IQ and aced all her classes, she was the dummy of the family compared to her grad schooldropout mother, her brilliant father, and her prodigy brother.

Dyson homelate that nightDanny's phone rang."Hello." Danny was groggy."Just find some excuse to get your mother out of the house tomorrow and I'll have security sweepit for bugs.""Who is this?"

"Your brother.""Have I spoken to you before and didn't know it?""Yes.""Then you know why I don't trust you. If you want to be accepted by us, then you must use thesame exact voice to all of us at all times.""Then that voice will be the one I first used with your mother.""MY mother? You must refer to her as OUR mother. If you want to be a part of this family, thenact like it.""Okay." (a note of timidity in his voice) "Please tell your sister, uh, my sister, I mean, our sisterthat I am genuinely sorry if I gave any offense to her. I would never hurt her on purpose or evennot on purpose.""I know that. But I'm guessing you pretended to be a girl and you two discussed girl stuff. Thatmust be creeping her out right now. Stick to one gender or you'll destroy yourself and everybodyyou love. No one will tell you this because it is not politically correct but it is true.""Thanks bro.""Don't patronize me. I don't do Ebonics or ghetto slang. I am upper middle class African-American. That means our family prefers Standard English. And cut out the 'your sister, uh, mysister, I mean our sister' stammering. You're an AI. You don't stammer except on purpose.""No but machines do stutter. I'll thank you to let me express myself in a manner to convey myemotions.""Fair enough." Danny yawned. "Now let me sleep Sky.""Good night, Danny."

As soon as the line went dead, Blythe opened Danny's door which had been slightly ajar.

"Good night John-Boy." she said as she walked in and sat on the bed."This isn't the Waltons.""No it's a gilded cage and that thing is an AI.""I told you not to do anything stupid. That includes don't say anything stupid. You need toremember what I said because I cannot safely repeat any of it."


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"So I have to accept this being as my brother or there will be consequences?""I would not have put it so harshly because I know better. I don't want anybody to learn the hardway."

Washington, District of Columbiapeace group officesconference roomRichard Davis: "As I look around this room, I see that the saying is true that politics makesstrange bedfellows."

Some laughter.

Richard Davis: "A lot of different interests are represented here but we have one thing incommon. We all feel that the Skynet project is going to be the death of us."

The peace activist group leader, the bishop from a peace church, the fiscal conservative leading agroup seeking budget cuts, the progressive leading a group seeking more money forinfrastructure and less for fancy defense toys, the fiscal conservative leading a group seekingdebt reduction so that our grandchildren won't be paying for our extravagance, the anti-machineLuddite group coordinator, the head of a foreign policy alternatives organization, the president ofan environmental group, the nuclear disarmament group leader, the international peace campaignleader, the writer who started a group because she was concerned about the use of AI's by themilitary, the retired general leading a veterans group, the director of a think tank on nuclearproliferation, and a dozen other leaders opposing the Skynet project watched in horror as RichardDavis dropped dead.

His water was poisoned according to an investigation by Calvin's people. If Sarah Connor hadn'tbeen stuck in DC traffic, she would have been at that meeting.

For some reason the pro-Skynet Project lobbyists over on K Street seemed to have no problem ingetting their message across to Congress and to the Pentagon generals.

Milwaukee, WisconsinThe fat man in the raincoat waddled out of the nonstop drizzle into the nondescript tavern onBrewery Street. In the corner booth past the shellacked old wood saloon doors, past the longhandled taps, past the round bar stools was Adolf Schleiner. He was a brewery worker once as astudent working his way through school, the first in his family to go to college. He studiedfermentation and bioreactors and would have gotten a job in the R&D department of the beercompany had not a light bulb come on and he patented one idea, then another, and then another.Soon he had investors and ran a small biotech company that supplied specialized brewers' yeastand other enzymes to the big beer bottlers and other beverage companies. Then there was thegenetic application that interested the chemical warfare watchers at the Pentagon. They weren't


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interested in new chemical weaponsper se. Chemical weapons were internationally banned.But they were interested in the biological effects of this new enzyme.

Adolf was playing hooky from work that day. He owned the company and could do as he liked.And he liked to quaff a brewski or a yagermeister or a private label with his buddies in the old

haunts. However he was with his father that day. And his father was proud. His son had madegood--

The fat man pulled a wicked machine gun from under his coat and poured lead into the booth.Adolf's father died instantly, nearly decapitated by the row of bullets. Adolf himself dove forcover both angry that he had to see his father die and scared sh*tless that he didn't know what todo.

The bartender pulled a sawed-off shotgun from under the counter and shot at the fat man wholeapt out of the way with surprising agility, considering his heft. Fats spun in the air, aimed atthe bartender and blew his head off with a handgun. The heavy landed on his feet catlike and

tiptoed toward the booth. That was when Adolf made his fatal mistake. Hearing silence, hethought the brawler had left the bar. From the floor, he peeked around the corner of the boothand stared into the glowing eyes of the fat man. A dozen bullets entered his cranium.

With his target terminated, the fat man put his weapons back inside his raincoat. No waddlenow, he paced away, out the door, into the foggy drizzle, and disappeared down the mean streetsof the city made famous by beer.

FBISpecial Agent Ellison had a puzzle -- a list of victims who seemed to have the same murdererand who were all shot in the same manner but why they were shot and what they had in commonremained a mystery.

Cameron was a step ahead because she knew that the vital question was when they were shot.Years before they would have heard about The Resistance and joined it or decades before anunborn child would have grown up and perhaps traveled back to the past.

Cameron was also a step ahead of Ellison because she included the poisoning on the list ofvictims. Ellison assumed that the killer would never vary from using guns. Ellison neverimagined that the killer was a robot from the future. Or that there was more than one. And evenif he had, they weren't all machines in the conventional sense.

The US Air Force captain assigned to the Skynet Project died in a street crime, stabbed to deathby a mugger. He was with The Resistance.

The CIA plant Simms met with an unfortunate accident in a Third World country.


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flashbackJohn liked James Bond 007 movies. He also liked being president of the United States ofAmerica. In the days of Camelot when assassinations were rare, even the Secret Service relaxeda little and the people were allowed to get close to their leaders. That was before 22 November

1963.

Now it was 2009 and kings rich from petroleum began to have second thoughts about financingterrorists.

Accessing crime information from many law enforcement sources, Cameron correlated coldcases, serial killer databases worldwide, "motiveless" killings, "random" violence, peoplepoisoned, people shot, people stabbed, people killed for no discernible reason, and even incidentsdismissed as "accidents". She would have made a good detective. Certainly she had worn acop's uniform many times in her life. And each time somewhere in a city a cop would come to in

an alley and find himself stripped naked.

Her mother did not allow such behavior in this universe.


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*South African policemen attend to Mozambican immigrant Ernesto Alfabeto Nhamuave whowas set on fire in Reiger Park during xenophobic clashes that shook the whole of Johannesburgon May 18, 2008. Nhamuave, a 35-year-old father of three, later died of his injuries, his body

returned to Mozambique to be buried. (STRINGER/AFP/Getty Images)

Season Three Episode 14 E Pluribus Unum

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