by Edge O. Erin
She walked past him, and Lester was transfixed. He did manage a dizzy turn of the head and a hand to his chest but unfortunately did nothing else. Lester should’ve affected a stumble, anything, to get close enough to Mary to release the microbots, which would then hone-in on her via pheromone signature. Lester sat down heavily, probably sad in the realisation that he had apparently missed his only opportunity to tag Mary.
He watched Lester eyeballing the door, no doubt hoping and praying that someone would cancel and allow him entry. The invitation didn’t come. An hour passed, and Lester evidenced his nervous state as he tapped his hands on his knees and occasionally ran his fingers through his ever-thinning and unkempt dark-brown hair. A few minutes later, an anomaly flashed across the diagnostic window within his viewer. He raised it for a closer look; it appeared Mary had disassociated for a fraction of a second. If she had, the SAU would probably know it. Would they act hastily or intervene after she exited the restaurant?
A cadre of security guards formed just outside the door. He could tell they were members of an extraction team. One he recognised as Security First-Class Jop Baturu-Heim, Second-in-Command of Security at Bang Block, a fearsome individual with a reputation for brutality. Another he knew as Cooper Rand, one of MEM’s greatest assets.
He hoped the connection that lay at the heart of Mary’s issues would not manifest, for if it did, the extraction team would enter, and it would be pandemonium. Lester was looking at an antique pocket watch that was ingeniously modified to sense any aberrations in Mary’s data. Just then, there was another anomaly, and this one was vastly larger than any previous; Mary had frozen for two full seconds! Lester made his way towards the entrance, but security was already sweeping in to close off access and minimise the view with shields and holographic screening as he reached the steps. Lester was trying to squeeze between the base of two guards’ shields when an officer came over and kicked him in the chest. Now he was looking at the pavement and people’s shoes and ankles darting back and forth and then crawling back towards the security perimeter. Somehow Lester’s glasses had stayed on; he must’ve had them tied on around the back or taped to his nose. Blood was dripping onto the ground, and Lester’s hand swept across his nose. Then Lester was up again and pulling his way towards the entrance.
Now the extraction team was packing out a shroud-covered person, which could only be Mary. Another anomaly murmured across his screen. People were pressing against the security perimeter and being shoved backwards. Some were getting tasered to the ground. Suddenly Lester burst through the line and jumped onto the back of a member of the extraction team and wriggled his way over like a koala bear would a gum tree and thence onto Mary. He didn’t know if he was trying to save Mary or hug her. Mary and Lester tumbled to the ground together; the microbots would indeed be planted. Security yarded Lester from off Mary and started dragging him away. Until his head was struck and glasses spilt to the ground, he had been looking up at the sky. Moments later, the primary feed was lost.
A MEM operative reported back: Mary had been whisked away, and Lester had been seen escorted — via his heels — to the launderette. No small number of credits and vouchers had been doled out to mollify the shocked and bewildered bystanders. Having received the appropriate inducement, the people skittered to the area’s bars, which were unashamed in advertising Mary’s likeness in various provocative positions and stages of undress. The base establishments would be filled with drama and debauchery tonight. There was no potion better at lulling the masses into obedience and acquiescence than the cult of personality stirred with vice and ice. He would soon know if Mary was taken to Ghan Garden Estate or Bang Block.
It was known that humans needed water and operated on food energy, so electricity being induced into them didn’t seem necessary. More than that, the fact that the additional charge only immobilised them, save for erratic vibrations, indicated an ineffective, if not counterproductive, effort.
As directed, the microbots had carried out their mission. Save for a couple zapped units that remained on Lester, the rest glommed on to Mary.
Chapter Seven
The Grand Lady had called the meeting, and for the first time, more than just the Security, Intelligence, and Station Leaders rode the elevator as it descended three storeys below the store. Jon knew two of the newbies by face, record, and reputation, but he did not know the other.
The shopkeeper, whom they called Keeper, and a woman that went by Hitch escorted them into the meeting room. Hitch, who received the name from the impression that one could hitch her to a wagon full of stones and she would pull it around like a toy cart, remained outside as a guard. He knew the tough, towering, burly woman and the bookworm were a pair, which made them rather an odd couple. They may have looked odd, but the Chief of Security and Intelligence and Logistics Master were formidable.
Ever since Bien fell into a coma, Keeper sat at the head of the table. He tapped on his end of the table, and it came online. A moment later, a view screen formed against the wall; it was where the Grand Lady ‘sat’.
A disembodied shimmering female head appeared, and he saw the young lady, Claire, raise an eyebrow and do a lip-scrunch at the appearance. He had seen the Grand Lady’s holographic projection many times but still found it somewhat unsettling. But it was necessary to maintain anonymity while conveying hidden power.
Keeper convened the meeting.
“We’ve three new people for this crucial meeting, and each is aware of the significance of attendance. Their skills and dedication have brought all of them a long way from their humble beginnings, and we sincerely thank them for their contributions. They sit in this room because of their skills, dedication, and promise. Each has been sworn to secrecy and is fully aware of what happens to oathbreakers.”
He stopped and looked at each of Wezer, Cooper, and Claire, and behind the studious glasses, it was easy to see that his piercing and perceptive eyes spoke to how serious he took oaths and breakers of them.
“I now turn the meeting over to the Grand Lady.”
“Keeper, thank you. Wezer, Cooper, and Claire welcome. Gentlemen, your stealth, and intestinal fortitude are admirable and inspirational. And Lady, your dedication and resolve are impressive, and it’s refreshing to have someone other than Hitch and myself to hitch this man-train to.”
He’d not heard the Grand Lady speak with such whimsy at a meeting; typically, it was all business, so knowing her the way he did, levity would yield to brevity.
“Well, we’ve much to cover, and as such, questions will be left to the end—first, the data biscuit. As our contacts indicated, videos, as part of a routine monitoring and maintenance programme, were, almost from the very beginning, captured of Cheriot Wheel. There are videos of everything from the trials, corporal punishment, sterilisation, physical and psychological torture, euthanisation failures, and so on, and so on. We also see Riot and interactions with her, ahem, sisters. Damningly, one video shows Abigailius Ghan convincing Mariot’s parents to continue with the programme despite their reservations.”
He could see that Claire was moved by everything, particularly the Grand Lady’s last words. If there were a free press, the biscuit would be copied and given to prominent media. In a rational world, it would bring down a government, put people in jail, and end a plutocracy. But the Eastern Block of the World Government’s propaganda machine and system of control was so pervasive and entrenched that voices of opposition were muted. If dissent grew loud and persisted long enough, the group received the “dissident” label. Leaders or spokespersons risked jail or worse. Such was the case for Scorp’s significant other, Arne Puyo, who was in prison for publicly advocating equal standing and representation for men.
Only MEM remained relevant due in large part to the fact that men were considered second-class citizens. The Newvalutionist belief that non-Red ethnic groups were, outside of fecundity, not inferior garnered sympathy — if not outright support — from disparate and disenfranchised par
ts of society. Consequently, membership included people of all colour and creed. Followers and sympathisers were infiltrating various institutions, and if not overtly exerting influence, were providing avenues for ideas and ‘counter-culture’. Fear of incarceration or other reprisals bound members to secrecy, and very few betrayed the cause. Leaflets were circulated widely and consistently, and concessions were being extracted, the biggest of which was the opportunity for half-breed red men to vote in local elections. To effect greater social equity required more than just revealing the cloning programme and Ghan abuses; it required doing so at the most favourable time.
Despite how her voice was distorted to conceal her identity, it still conveyed deep emotion as the Grand Lady continued.
“The full file is… available to you there.”
Sure enough, they all had it on their independent viewers.
“More on Mariot later. I hand proceedings to Jon for the next item.”
“Many thanks, Grand Lady.” He paused to gather his thoughts, then began:
“Returning to clones, Jop Baturu-Heim continues to abuse Cheriot at Bang Block. Additionally, Cheriot and Mary are now cerebrally tethered so Mary would be aware of her anguish, perhaps even feeling it. It’s unfortunate, to say the least, but presently beyond our agenda and abilities to deal with. We can only hope that somehow this heinous act is arrested internally.
“In linking the clones, the objective is to garner a better understanding of the hive mind and advance the science of ‘Collectives’. One can envision advances in cybernetics, symbiotics, and AI, but it begs the age-old question, ‘Does the end justify the means?’ Also, one wonders if it will ultimately be tested outside of Ghan ‘proper’, and once again, Menhance would seem a likely test-chamber. As with other activities that are prohibited by the Red Articles — and common decency — the Ghan hypocrisy continues unchecked. Grand Lady, please tell us about the latest instance of this.”
Jon couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if the Grand Lady was becoming emotional, for the wave of some fabric came towards her face and left again, followed by a ‘gathering’ of the apparition before she spoke.
“We now know for sure that for a year, Mariot, the real Mariot, the base individual for Cheriot, Mary, Riot, Tiot and all the other clones, has been struggling to emerge from her coma.
“Wait, my Mariot is alive?” Claire stood up from her chair.
As fuzzy and ethereal as the Grand Lady’s image was, it was easy to see it wobble and go backwards — as if in shock or near to fainting — before righting itself.
“Your Mariot. Are you…?” Keeper cut the transmission.
Keeper continued tapping on the table, likely sending a private message to the Grand Lady.
Keeper looked around at them all. “Wezer, Cooper, please exit the room for a short time. Hitch will look after you outside.”
He tapped the table again, the door unlocked, and Hitch stepped in. Keeper motioned the men to the door, “This shouldn’t take long.”
Jon looked at Keeper and Claire. Claire had remained standing.
Jon had received a message from Keeper indicating a continued discussion involving the Grand Lady could potentially imperil both individuals and even MEM, and they had to interrogate the young lady.
The instance the door closed Claire exclaimed, “I want to know right now what is happening with Mariot!”
“Wait,” Keeper said sternly, before continuing, “who is she to you that you call her your Mariot?”
He could see Claire struggling with it.
Jon weighed in, “Claire, breathe, relax. You’re not in jeopardy. This is a safe place.”
She looked at him and at Keeper with the ferocity of a lioness ready to die for its young.
“I don’t see that I have a choice but to accept that. I could probably get through both of you easy enough, but not that door, or Hitch.”
“Or the father of your child,” Keeper cautioned.
She took a few deep breaths and sat down. “Sorry. I want to be here. It’s Mariot; she’s not where she is supposed to be.”
“And she is?” Keeper inquired.
“My sister.”
Jon knew enough of the family history to say her name, “Spica C. Arn-Ghan. I guess the ‘C’ is for Claire.”
“It’s the name of an unwanted and unremarkable little girl, hardly remembered, or worth remembering, so please call me Claire, just Claire, it’s what Mariot called me too.”
It was a quiet, though sombre acknowledgement that he was right.
Keeper, as stoic and solemn as he was, exercised the appropriate level of empathy to rescue the situation.
“Whatever was really doesn’t matter. Claire, you are here now; you’re a mom, a fighter, and married to a good man. You’re also an important cog in the progressive machine we aim to get rolling.”
“Thank you for those kind words, but this can’t get out. It can’t. Cooper knows, of course, but we would all be in serious jeopardy if it got out. And if it gets out,” she tapped her walking stick hard on the table, “somebody will pay.”
“Right now, only Cooper, Jon, and I know, and I aim to keep it that way.”
“What about the Grand Lady, whomever she is? Anyone with one eye and half a piehole knows she’s a Ghan, pinked-out by being married to a ‘normie’, or by not towing the party line, or whatever…”
“The Grandy Lady, along with Bien, Jon and I, have been extremely vigilant concerning what is revealed, and to whom. I promise you we will guard this information to the very best of our ability.”
“I wish I could trust in that, and her, but she is a Ghan, and Ghans back-stab like no other.”
“If only you knew… how much she has done for a movement that’s primary goals are to elevate the station of men and weaken the Ghans, then you would have more faith in her.”
“Could be, but treachery is a game the Ghans have played for a very long time… and if one of them has to take it in the brown to expose an enemy, then that Ghan or ‘Ghan-a-wannabe’ will do it. Does she really have to know?”
Jon and Keeper exchanged glances.
“We will discuss this amongst ourselves later.”
“Oh no, you won’t! I need a commitment; this is going to stay in this room. If not, Cooper and I are out of the game!”
She was dead serious, and he had no doubt she would convince Cooper to drop out for the safety of their family. He tapped a message to Keeper.
Keeper pushed back from the table and let out a sigh.
“OK. How about this? I cannot lie or mislead the Grand Lady. But I can arrange a person-to-person meeting, and then you will have the opportunity to see for yourself how credible she is.”
Jon was shocked that Keeper would arrange such a thing, “Keeper, are you sure? I mean, it’s risky.”
Claire glared at him. “It’s risky for both of us.”
She then looked at Keeper. “Okay, I agree to the meeting.”
Keeper nodded, “Done. I will make it happen; you have my word. Now, we’ve more to announce, and some of it may be equally shocking to you, so you need to maintain your composure. Reacting to it will only be a disservice to you. Agreed?”
“I agree.”
With order restored, Keeper sent a message to the Grand Lady, buzzed the others back in, and after everyone took their seats, enabled the Grand Lady’s apparition.
“We’ve resolved a misunderstanding and are ready to proceed. With that said, if you could continue, Grand Lady?”
“Intelligence has affirmed that Mariot has been showing signs of emerging from her coma. As you might expect, this caused intense anxiety and fear. If Mariot came back to the world, how to reintroduce her? It would be impossible to cover up the clone programme, even if they were destroyed. Owing to the trauma she had suffered and the length of her coma, she would probably be diminished. She had been ‘away’ for thirteen years, and even if she retained her faculties and could be brought up to speed, would she want t
o rule? Considering their own fragility — and potential culpability — the decision was made to keep her in a coma.”
Again, her voice wavered, indicating a heightened emotional response, so Jon relieved the pressure.
I would add, “Out of necessity and haste, they administered a regimen of drugs to keep her in a coma. However, due to the policy that mind-altering drugs should never be used on or by a Ghan, they had to adopt another procedure, namely ‘Neurosignalling’. This has kept her brain operating in the theta frequency of 4-7 hertz and prevented a healthy transition to the alpha and subsequent beta range of sleep. Know that ‘beta’ governs the normal waking states of consciousness. Consequently, Mariot is subject to REM most of the time, save for when she is plunged into the deep, dreamless state of delta, or less than 4 hertz to prevent her from going to beta and waking up. Presumably, they’ve elected to not keep her perpetually in delta out of ‘humanitarian reasons’; better to allow the occasional lucid dream than to give her nothing.”
He paused, saw Claire wiping tears from her eyes, and as expected, the Grand Lady steeled herself and picked up the slack.
“Thank you for that expert analysis and summary. It seems the Ghans are debating if they can continue this indefinitely, and if not, what then? On our side, we’re also debating what we can or should do, if anything. Given the present ambiguity and time and security constraints, I move, we conclude this meeting.”
Keeper didn’t hesitate. “Yes, we need to wrap it up and forgo questions for another time. Intake out.”
With the meeting concluded, the Grand Lady vanished, and they exited, some with even more onerous burdens than when they entered.
