We had lost much that would have been worth preserving. Of course, things could not go on as they were back then. In the past we were blindly heading for disaster. Maybe not so blindly. We could have guessed what the outcome would be. Actually, we could have foreseen the catastrophe. But nobody wanted to see it. And mankind paid dearly for it. How many had died during the Crusade? How many after that, the plagues, the civil wars, the hunger? I didn’t know. No one knew. Because no one was able to get an overall picture of the situation in the world anymore, or even in the States, the former United States. The infrastructure had collapsed. The government in Washington, D. C. no longer existed. Without our advanced technology, the number of people who populated the world at that time simply hadn’t been able not survive. It had been very clear. And I think the Neo-Luddites had known it too. But they also had known that this would be the price that humanity had to pay.
Now I was standing here, a fossil from a different time, trying to explain to a new, younger generation, why back then we had been as we had been. And I tried to give them at least a little bit of our civilization, at least as much as was still allowed and not considered dangerous for mankind. I could not allow mankind to forget their humanity and sink back to the level of wild beasts. There had to be some place for the human condition that was between barbarism and the tyranny of machines.
I had to grin about my philosophical musings. That did not fit at all with the person I had once been. Yes, I had learned a lot from my old mentor O’Neil. The Old Man would probably not recognize me. That old scoundrel and vagabond Dexter as a schoolteacher! What would the Old Man say if he could see me today? I thought of him nostalgically. It was decades ago that he wasn’t with me anymore. I was an old man myself by now. I could never have imagined that at eighty-five I would still have to work as a teacher. Back then I had expected that I would have enjoyed my well-earned retirement at that age. But nothing had come of it. There was no longer a social welfare system. Either you worked, or you had a family who took care of you, or you just perished. Well, I had no family. So I would have to spend the last few years of my life teaching at that school.
I saw the students looking at me nervously. The exam sheets I was menacingly waving in my hand intimidated most of them. Only a few remained calm. There was fat Steve, confident that he had solved all the tasks correctly – rightly so, I must admit, and there was dark-skinned Evelyne, a new student with unusual self-confidence, and there was freckled Michael, who surprisingly showed no nervousness whatsoever, although he was one of the rather problematic cases of the class.
I looked around at the blackboard, which was still scrawled. »Why isn’t the board wiped yet? I guess everyone just ran home quickly before the weekend and left a mess here. Steve! Since you don’t seem to be completely awake yet this morning, I think I’d get you some exercise.«
While everybody else had a grin on the face, the fat red-haired boy waddled to the table and looked for sponge and a piece of cloth. The boy was gifted, but I didn’t want him to become overconfident.
Janet, a lively little blonde girl who was one of the most diligent, but not necessarily the most intelligent one, in the class, said: »Magister, don’t we have history on the first lesson today?«
She was right, but I wanted the exams off the table first. If the students were waiting all the time in suspense for the results of the exam, it would be difficult for them to concentrate on another subject.
»First I want to get rid of this debacle here,« I said. »It already ruined my whole weekend. I wonder if anybody even listened to me in math class last week. Do you think I’m joking around here for your entertainment? I’m doing this for you, so you can learn something for your life. And math is at the basis of everything. Everything is founded on mathematics, the change you get in the grocery store, the bookkeeping when you have your own business, science...« The moment I said it, I knew I should better have been quiet.
Even before I could turn the subject in another direction, long Ned spoke up. He was a rather tall boy for his age and the son of a deeply religious father, one of the more radical factions here in the village. It was a miracle that his father even allowed him to come to school. »Mr. Magister! But Reverend Carter said that science comes from the devil. He says that mathematics is the language of the machines. I don’t see why we need to learn it at all.«
This was exactly one of the reasons why I thought that Reverend Carter should have no place at this school. What would students make of it, when one teacher said the exact opposite of another? I’m sure the Reverend didn’t say that to undermine my classes. He was just a stubborn fanatic who just didn’t fit into a modern school. Or maybe it was me who didn’t fit into the school. Obviously there was a wide gap between our ideas of what modern meant. And he was probably even right. If modern meant that it corresponded to the spirit of the times, then I was certainly rather old-fashioned, an atavism from a bygone era. Perhaps the Reverend was a forerunner of what is considered modern today: religious superstition and Neo-Luddite fanaticism.
I was aware that I had entered dangerous terrain with my remark. Now I had to see how I got out of that trouble.
»Science does not equal electronics and high tech. Science comes from Latin scientia, which means knowledge. Every form of knowledge is science. This includes much of our daily life: biology, natural medicine, agriculture, blacksmithing...«
»I don’t understand what mathematics has to do with agriculture and natural medicine,« young Ned interjected. »I don’t need binomial formulas to tell me when it’s time to harvest...«
»That’s not the point. Mathematics is everywhere. For example, when you have to calculate how much seed you need if you want to cultivate a certain field with side lengths a and b...«
Jacob who sat next to Ned interfered. And he had good reasons, since he had failed the exam. And I think he already knew it. »Well, my father just guesses the right amount. He says, he simply has a feeling for it.«
I pulled Jacob’s exam from the stack and slammed it on his desk. »Somehow you don’t seem to have the right feeling about it. It’s nice to know your father solves quadratic equations based on feeling. Unfortunately, you’ll have to do it the hard way and use mathematics, because your feeling is somehow not up to the task. F - Fail!« Jacob shrank and fell silent. With eyes wide open he stared at the result of his exam. The other students had also stopped their murmuring.«
I turned to fat Steve, who was still wiping the board. »Can we expect the board to be finished before lunch break?« To underline what I was saying, I slammed my walking cane at the desk. Immediately, Steve kept on wiping at double speed. I went to the part of the board that was already clean and chalked up the average on the test and the class scores. 3 x A, 2 x B, 4 x C, 1 x D, 5 x E and 4 x F. A miserable result. Almost half of the students had the two worst marks E and F. The faces of the class became paler and paler.
Into the general silence, Ned finally said quietly, but loud enough for all to hear: »St. Ted Kaczynski said: Mathematics is boring and empty because it has no purpose. Applied mathematics contributes to the development of the technological society, but pure mathematics is only a game.«
Kaczynski was one of the three Fathers of the Crusade and was worshiped by many as a prophet. In my time he was still considered a terrorist and had been known as the Unabomber. In any case, I was now in a very precarious situation. To openly criticize Kaczynski was tantamount to blasphemy and would have had serious consequences for me if one of the students had reported this to his parents, even here in New Detroit, where everything was more moderate and with no fanatical sects. I had to be careful how to put my answer in words. At the same time, however, I had to be sovereign and not give the impression that I was intimidated.
»Would be nice, Ned, if you’d pay as much attention to my classes as you do in Reverend Carter’s religious instructions. Then this wouldn’t have turned out an F.« And with that, I dropped the corrected test in front of him.
»Michael!« I called the next student. The boy rose with a grin. »That was an impressive feat,« I continued. »You did better than I expected. B!«
He grinned even more over his freckled face. »Well, I’ve learned my lessons,« he said.
I looked at him with narrowed eyes. »Yes, but maybe it has also something to do with the fact that your tablemate during the exam was Evelyne.« The smile disappeared from his face. »Next time you’ll sit alone. I’ll make sure of that,« I added. I grabbed the next sheet in the stack. »Evelyne!«
The girl rose. She was one of the few black students in the class. She was skinny, but exceptionally flirtatious for her twelve or thirteen years. While nowadays fashion became more and more conservative and all girls went to school with long skirts, even in this weather she wore a short leather skirt that ended well above the knees and a blouse with a wide open neckline. She had only been in the class for two weeks, but had already ousted fat Steve as best in class. An unusual girl. I noticed something else about her as well. It was her face. Ever since she first came to school, she looked familiar to me. But I didn’t know why. There weren’t many black families in New Detroit. Her parents had just moved here recently. So there was no way I’d ever seen her before. My memory seemed to be playing tricks on me. Apparently, I was getting old.
»A, an impressive result!« I said. Then I turned to the class. »This is a student you others should learn from.«
It went on. I handed out the rest of the exams. In the meantime almost half of the first hour had already passed, as I noticed with a glance at my pocket watch. »All right, now that we’ve got that over with, let’s get down to the subject of history.«
Blonde Janet complained: »But the hour is already half over. And after that we have another lesson of mathematics? It’s not fair...«
»Janet, when you have something to say, you raise your hand and get up first,« I rebuked her.
Shyly she rose. »Mr. Magister, I just don’t think it’s fair... I mean... Well, with tomorrow being March 17th and all. Shouldn’t we have rather history than mathematics?«
»Very nice, Janet. You just gave me the cue. And what is tomorrow’s holiday?« Before she could answer, Ned was eager to speak.
»Ned!« I gave him his turn.
»Tomorrow is the 60th anniversary of the beginning of the Crusade against the Machines.«
»Right, Ned. At least in history you’re good for something.« I turned back to the other students. »And that’s why today we’re going to look at why mankind rose up against the machines back then. We can only understand that, if we consider the social and historical situation of that time. That means we have to ask ourselves, what led to the so-called Decline of ’51. Steve, can you give us a brief summary of what we’ve learned the last time about the Decline of ’51?«
The fat boy stood up clumsily and reluctantly. »The Decline of ’51 was an economic depression,« he said succinctly, then sat down again.
»Yeah? So? That’s all?« The boy was intelligent, but unfortunately highly unwilling. Somehow he felt that all of this was beneath him and that he’d better spend his time with something else. So he got busy most of his class time solving some Sudoku puzzles on paper that he and his tablemate Mark made for each other.
»I think we have said a lot more about this in our last class,« I insisted. Janet raised her arm. I gestured that she should answer.
She stood up and started babbling: »After the first computers were developed in 2039 whose performance was equal to that of the human brain, they increasingly pushed human workers out of the labor market, so that unemployment at the beginning of 2051 finally exceeded 70%. At the same time energy prices exploded and power cuts became the norm in all the country’s major cities. The U. S. government declared national bankruptcy and the North American Dollar collapsed. Other states in the North American Union and Europe followed. For the next two months, food and other essentials were available only in exchange for food stamps.« That was word for word, what I dictated in the last history lesson. I wondered if the girl had understood any of it.
»Reverend Carter says it had absolutely nothing to do with this.«
»Oh, yes?« I was sarcastic. »Well, the Reverend should know. I guess it’s a religious issue.«
»That’s exactly what the Reverend says. It was all prophesied by Samuel Butler.« He flipped through his notebook until he found the right page. Then he began to read out: »Our opinion is that war to the death should be instantly proclaimed against them. Every machine of every sort should be destroyed by the well-wisher of his species. Let there be no exceptions made, no quarter shown; let us at once go back to the primeval condition of the race.«
»This was written about two hundred years earlier. I don’t think that’s what drove the majority of people out onto the streets at the time,« I objected.
»St. Butler was a prophet,« the boy replied firmly convinced.
»So? Were you there? Was the wise Reverend Carter there?« I asked him. »But I was there. I lived it. I saw it with my own eyes...
...back then...
...60 years ago...«
Washington, D. C., 2050
The ring tone from the wall screen woke me up from my sleep. I could barely open my eyes. I was still dead-tired. I had had some disturbing dream, the details of which I couldn’t remember. Only a confusing feeling remained, which faded the more I awoke. The annoying signal kept buzzing. I cursed. I usually cursed when I got up in the morning, because something always got me out of my well-deserved sleep. It was either the alarm clock or a fucking phone call. When I could finally open my eyes wide enough to see the blurry screen behind my bed, I saw who was bugging me so early in the morning. It was the Old Man. Of course it was the Old Man. And it was 6:55 AM. Who else would be calling me at this time of night? Again I cursed. Once again I overslept. Actually, the automatic alarm should have woken me up already an hour ago. But probably I had simply switched it off, while I was half asleep and had then slept on. In five minutes I was supposed to pick up the Old Man with the car at his apartment. That was impossible, of course. I hadn’t even showered or dressed. Nevertheless, it was impertinent that the Old Man called me already now, five minutes before the scheduled meeting. But that was just the way he was. Damn slave driver! That bastard wouldn’t give me any peace. The fact that he called even before our appointment only showed that he didn’t trust me to be on time. That showed again what he thought of me, that I was a complete idiot. Apparently, he didn’t even think I could set an alarm clock. Okay, admittedly I had overslept. But that still didn’t give him any right. After all, he couldn’t know if I wasn’t already sitting in the car waiting at the traffic lights just an intersection away from his apartment. It only annoyed me even more that he was right this time. Unfortunately he was right almost all the time. And that only made him even more unpleasant to me. I can’t stand wise guys, especially when they’re right. And the Old Man was the worst of all the know-it-alls I’d ever met.
The Old Man, that was Senator Neil O’Neil. And he was my employer. I worked for him as a private bodyguard. That means this was supposed to be my job, but the Old Man used me for everything from messenger boy to chauffeur. And all he paid was a slave’s salary, stingy to the max.
The screen was still humming. The old bastard wouldn’t give up. I took my smartphone from the docking station on the wall screen. The camera of my smartphone was broken, so it would only transmit voice and no picture, and I didn’t want the Old Man to see that I was still in bed. Other than that, O’Neil’s face was pretty much the last thing I wanted to see so early that morning. I cleared my throat to get my voice straight. Then I took the call.
»Yes?« I answered cautiously and was already prepared for the worst.
»Good morning, Mr. Dexter!« Neil O’Neil replied and I could clearly hear certain sarcasm in his voice. He seemed to believe that he had just woken me from sleep, which – I had to admit – was unfortunately true. »Where are
you, Dexter? You know how important this meeting is. I can’t afford to be late. So where are you right now?«
The Old Man always thought that all his meetings were of great importance, probably because he was a senator. He certainly didn’t impress me with that. Still, I could hardly tell him that I was still in bed. It would have been too embarrassing. »Well, yeah, um... I’m stuck in traffic here on Minnesota Avenue. Somehow it’s not going anywhere...«
»What?« O’Neil yelled at me. »You’re not even over the bridge?«
»Well, not exactly...« I said. »Quite an unexpected traffic jam here! I’m not quite sure if I’ll make it in time. I might need a few minutes more.«
»Are you out of your mind, Dexter?« O’Neil yelled. I had to hold the phone a couple inches away from my ear or I would have gone deaf from all the yelling in my ear. »You know damn well I can’t afford to be late especially today. What did I leave you the car for yesterday? If you’d gotten your ass out of bed earlier, you’d be here in time. When we have an appointment this important, you have to plan for all eventualities. Get the hell here immediately!«
»It’s not up to me,« I said.
»Shut up and hurry! And if you don’t show up here in five minutes, you’re fired for good, and I’ll buy an android instead! Do I make myself clear?«
»Yes, sir,« I muttered reluctantly and ended the call. Oh, how I hated him!
I’d got myself into some serious shit. The Old Man was once again in a foul mood. I guessed I’d better hurry up now. Shower and shaving had to be canceled today. And O’Neil was to blame for that. Last night we went to one of those damned rallies in Detroit. O’Neil was a senator from Michigan and elections were just ahead. Even if it wasn’t the Old Man himself who was running, because he had been elected two years ago and now he had another four years in the Senate ahead of him; it was the junior senator from Michigan who stood for election, and O’Neil naturally supported his Republican colleague. Anyway, it took the Old Man until ten o’clock in the night to finally make his stupid speech. And by the time we got back home to Washington and I finally dropped into my bed, it was three o’clock. And then he had a meeting this morning at seven. Maybe Neil O’Neil could go without sleep, but I couldn’t. Besides, I had to drive him first from the MagLev station to his apartment. And then I had to cross the whole city to get back to my apartment and fill up the hydrogen tank of the car on the way, while the Old Man had already been snoozing comfortably in his bed.
Crusade Against the Machines Page 2
