The Culling

by Charles Ray

  Cruz had gone beyond insane.

  42.

  Moses and his unit came up behind the position occupied by Wainwright and a small group of monitors. Washington had taken them to the subway tunnel where he left Octavia Olympus and the other children. Moses had left two of his men to safeguard them, and then instructed Washington to take him to the scene of the fighting.

  The group was just starting around a corner when Washington grabbed Moses’ arm. “Up ahead, monitors,” he whispered.

  Moses quickly signaled the group to fall back.

  “So,” Washington said. “What do we do now?”

  “Why, we attack them, son. You wait here until the shooting’s over, you hear.”

  Washington nodded without hesitation.

  Moses arranged his forces, two rows of ten of the men who were dressed in monitor uniform formed up shoulder to shoulder. Behind them, the rest of the force arranged themselves so they couldn’t be seen from the front. He then gave the order to move out.

  As they got closer, they could see that one member of the group wasn’t wearing a helmet, and he seemed to be in charge. The group was so preoccupied with the proles throwing furniture at them from the building in front of them, Moses and his men were just outside the effective range of the flechette pistols before anyone noticed their presence.

  Wainwright turned and saw the approaching monitors. He smiled.

  “Ah, reinforcements have arrived,” he said. “You men get up here and get ready. We’re about to assault the building.”

  Moses called the group to a halt.

  “Get ready,” he said in a low voice that could only be heard as far as the second row, but that was far enough. Everyone tensed.

  The monitors ahead of them began shifting nervously. One of them walked over to Wainwright. “Commander,” he said. “I don’t think those are monitors.”

  “Why? What makes you say that?”

  “We don’t move in tight formations like that unless we’re dealing with a riot.”

  Suddenly, Wainwright felt a flash of panic. “You men, forget the proles for now. Turn and fire on that group!”

  The monitors turned and fired a salvo of darts. The metal missiles arced out only to bounce harmlessly onto the pavement fifteen feet short of Moses and his men.

  Moses laughed.

  “Well, look at that. Guess these pretty little popguns have a few limitations,” he said. “Front ranks, ready, kneel!”

  The front two rows dropped to their knees. Behind them stood four rows of Freelander archers, each with bow at the ready. The front rank fired and knelt, followed by the next three in order. Bowstrings twanged. The arrows flew up in a low arc like a flight of slender, wingless birds. In seconds, they found their targets.

  Wainwright opened his mouth to scream, but the sound was cut off by the arrow that pierced his throat, exiting the back of his neck. All that came out of his mouth was a great crimson gusher as he sank to the pavement. Half of the monitors also fell, mortally wounded, while the others had arrows in various parts of their anatomies, and lay writhing and screaming in pain.

  That quickly, the battle was over. Unaccustomed as they were to prole resistance, they were even less prepared for an armed force that could reach out to them from a distance their flechette pistols couldn’t reach. The monitors left alive dropped their weapons and raised their hands.

  43.

  At the armory, after overpowering and securing the sentries, Hiroshi and Leland learned of Gravius’s dismissal.

  “If that dickhead Wainwright is in charge,” Leland said. “Things are going to go real bad, if they already haven’t. Gravius at least cared about the people under him. That guy only cares about himself.”

  “Well, what do you suggest we do?” Hiroshi asked.

  “We need to go and find Gravius. He’ll know what to do.”

  Hiroshi took twenty men dressed as monitors in the truck, and with Leland driving they drove quickly across to the building where Gravius had his quarters. The other men were directed to proceed along the river to the first bridge and wait for further orders.

  A monitor stood guard at the entrance to the building. Leland got out of the truck and approached the man.

  “What are you doing here?” the guard asked.

  “I was sent by the . . . new commander,” Leland said. “He has something he wants me to ask Gravius.”

  “Give me the message, and I’ll relay it. Citizen Gravius is under house arrest.”

  Leland squared his shoulders, lifted his visor and glared directly at the visored man. “I was told that the message was for Gravius’s ears only,” he said. “You know how the new commander is. He wouldn’t like to hear that you stood in the way of me completing my mission.”

  “Shit,” the man said. “I know what you mean. This new guy, Wainwright, is a complete ass. Okay, you can go in, but make it quick.”

  Leland slapped the man on the shoulder, smiling. So, he thought as he slipped through the door, Citizen Wainwright has moved in on Gravius. That might just make what he had to do easier. He knew his former commander had no love for Wainwright, who he regarded as an ass-kissing martinet.

  He rapped lightly on the door.

  Gravius’s gravelly voice answered his knock. “Come in.”

  When Leland walked in, his visor up, Gravius’s eyes widened in surprise. He rose and clapped a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “So, you didn’t die after all. Good to see you, son.”

  “Yes, I’m alive, commander, thanks to Hiroshi Jackson and his friends. I hear you’re not doing so well these days?”

  Gravius laughed. “I have had better days. So, you and the rebellious young prole have hooked up, eh? How did that come about?”

  Leland gave him a quick recap of his adventures. “But, now, Hiroshi’s people are being slaughtered, and I can’t believe you’d think that was right, commander. We have to do something.”

  “I don’t disagree with you, son,” Gravius said. “But, as you can see, I’m no longer in charge. Wainwright’s in charge of the forces across the river.”

  “Don’t worry about him. We have forces taking care of him. But, we need to gain control of this side of the river. You could help us with that.”

  Gravius frowned. “You’re asking me to become a traitor?”

  “I’m asking you to help save our community. We’re destroying ourselves. I know I was raised to think of proles as somehow less than human, just work units to be kept in line. Well, I’ve gotten a chance to know Hiroshi, and he’s every bit as good as I am, in most ways, better.”

  The boy made a point. Gravius knew this. What’s more, he knew that what Cruz was planning was even worse than what the monitors were doing. When he became a monitor, he had sworn to defend the community. Letting Cruz get away with what he planned would be a violation of his oath.

  “Hell, son, when you’re right, you’re right,” he said. “I knew saving your hide was a good idea. Okay, I’ll help you invade New Liberty, but first, there’s something we have to do over at headquarters.”

  Leland looked puzzled.

  “I can’t explain it yet, boy. Fact is, I hope to hell I’m wrong. But, if you can get me past my guard outside, we need to get a move on.”

  That was the easiest part. Leland just walked outside, put his flechette pistol to the guard’s head and marched him outside to the truck where Hiroshi and the others waited. They tied the hapless man up and tossed him into the back of the truck among the Freelanders.

  44.

  In the control room in the basement of the headquarters building, Hector Cruz paced behind the chair in which sat the nervous-looking young redhead. As she fidgeted with the controls on the board before her, she glanced anxiously over her shoulder.

  She wanted to tell him to sit down and stop distracting her, but she knew he had a reputation for throwing tantrums – and other things, so she just gritted her teeth and tried to focus on the knobs, dials and screens in front of her
– an almost impossible task as he paced so close she could smell the scent of the soap he’d used to shower and feel the heat of his body through her blue tunic.

  “How much longer will you be?” Cruz asked petulantly. “You’ve been fiddling with those controls forever.”

  “I’m sorry, citizen,” the harassed young woman said. “I’ve widened the aperture as you directed, but that means the device will take much longer to get to full power. The change in diameter of the circle of coverage takes a much larger charge to get the same output, and the circuits can only take so much power. I can’t make it go any faster without burning out the circuits.”

  Except for a few technicians who lived and worked in the building, and of course, the Committee, no one knew the full capacity of the culling device. Some technician, during Cruz’s father’s tenure as Chairman, had discovered that the laser could be refocused, with a radius that encompassed all of the populated area of New Liberty, and with some boosting, could still deliver lethal rays. It couldn’t be focused very specifically at first, but Cruz had driven the technicians to work on focusing it in circles of different radii, radiating out from the center. What he had the technician doing now was creating a circle that took in some eighty-five percent of the prole community, or to the east bank of the river and out toward the perimeter, stopping just short of the power plant and most of the factories. Once the power reached maximum, the device would incinerate everything within the circle, buildings and humans would be reduced to ash. His security chiefs couldn’t end the prole rebellion, but he, Hector Cruz, would end it, and no one would dare challenge him ever again.

  The military-funded scientists had developed the weapon around 2020, when they finally discovered a way to effectively direct the heat that develops when a laser weapon is activated. The combined gas-electrical process, and new focusing methods, gave them a weapon that could either fry the guidance components of an incoming missile, or incinerate an attacking jet – and its pilot - instantaneously. When the technicians who worked for Cruz’s father learned how to re-aim the device toward the ground rather than the air, the practice of culling was born, but not put into real practice until after the old man’s death and his son’s elevation to the chairmanship. It was seen at first as a more humane method of execution because of its speed. But, the impact of the public executions on the population quickly turned it into a tool for maintaining control over the workers. Now, Cruz would bring it to its ultimate purpose – it would be his ticket to eventual control of what was left of the world.

  He fumed down at the back of the girl for a few seconds. He didn’t understand the technology behind the weapon, and resented having to depend upon those he considered inferior for its use. If he could get his hands on the hidden books, though, he could learn. He knew he could, because he knew he was smarter than any of the others. He would allow a select few to share part of his knowledge, but would retain the bulk for himself, and with Nigel Halifax’s project, he would be around to enjoy this new power for a long, long time.

  As he thought of the scientist, he walked to a table in the rear of the room, and picked up the phone. He dialed the extension to Halifax’s lab.

  “Yes, citizen,” the plummy voice answered. Halifax knew who was calling. No one else ever called him.

  “Have you solved the final problems with the process?” Cruz asked.

  “I believe I have, citizen.”

  Cruz smiled and looked up at the ceiling. “At last,” he thought. To Halifax he said, “And, you’ve taken the necessary steps to ensure that only you know about this?”

  “I . . . have,” Halifax’s voice trailed off.

  “I know that you were attached to your assistants,” Cruz said without a trace of sympathy. “But, this process in the wrong hands could be very dangerous. It had to be done.”

  “I . . . suppose . . . so, citizen. But, it . . . will take me a long time to train new assistants.” “And, an even longer time to get over what you’ve made me do.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Cruz said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Cruz broke the connection, and walked to the door. He pushed it open and stepped outside. The monitor standing sentry duty at the door to the control room snapped to attention.

  “I have a special job for you,” Cruz said. “And, it must be done immediately.”

  45.

  Hiroshi and Leland, with an unarmed Gravius walking between them, and fifteen Freelanders in monitor uniform following, approached the main entrance of the headquarters. Two monitors stood guard on either side of the large double doors. They came to attention as the group approached.

  Before the sentries could challenge them, Leland stepped forward. “We have orders to bring the traitor to Citizen Cruz,” he said.

  Whether it was the tone of authority in Leland’s voice, or the look of abject surrender that Gravius affected as he stood there with his head bowed, the guard was convinced. He saluted and stepped aside.

  The group swept into the large entrance lobby. Except for a few bored looking citizens sitting behind counters at the left, the lobby was empty. In front of them was a large bank of stairs, formerly escalators, but their motors had long since frozen, leading up to the upper levels of the building. Around to both side of the stairs were large archways leading to the many intersecting corridors. They took the right side, and a short way down the hallway, Gravius pointed to an unmarked door.

  “That leads down to the control room,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll find Cruz there.”

  “I can’t believe he’s really planning what you think he is,” Hiroshi said.

  On the walk from his residence to headquarters, Gravius had told them of his suspicion that Cruz planned to target the culling device against the larger prole community.

  “I don’t know if it’s technically possible,” Gravius said. “But, I do know that Cruz is perfectly capable of doing it. I’ve always suspected that his father’s accidental drowning in his bath wasn’t really an accident. You two are too young to remember, but it was after he became Chairman that even citizens were required to give their children to a crèche for rearing. I guess he wanted to make sure there wouldn’t be a son around to do to him what he did to his father. I hope I’m wrong, but my gut tells me I’m right.”

  Hiroshi shook his head. “He sounds as if he’s insane,” he said.

  “The line between genius and insanity is thin, young man,’ Gravius said. “When things first started to fall apart, a few people got together and did what they could to try and hold it together. They had to make some rough decisions, but initially, it was for the right reasons. Over time, though, those in charge grew to like being in charge, and out of that emerged people like Hector Cruz. Growing up, he had everything, but it was never enough. Yes, I suppose he is insane, but then, the rest of us stood by and allowed him to do what he has done, so I guess that makes us insane as well, doesn’t it?”

  46.

  Nigel Halifax looked up as the monitor entered his office without knocking. The black-clad figure, his visor reflecting the light of the lamp on Halifax’s desk, looked like some huge insect.

  “What are you doing here, monitor?” he demanded.

  “The Chairman sent me to get the notes of your research,” the muffled voice said.

  Halifax stood. “Very well, let’s go see him,” he said.

  The monitor drew his pistol, and aimed it at Halifax’s chest.

  “No, not you, just your notes.”

  “That’s impossible,” he said. “I must be there for him to understand the notes.”

  “He does not think your presence will be necessary,” the monitor said, and squeezed the trigger.

  Six steel darts bored into the scientist’s chest. He felt an immense pain as he fell back against his desk. Then, the pain was replaced by a creeping, cold feeling that seemed to start in his legs and flow upwards.

  His vision was dimming, and the approaching monitor looked like a figure in
thick fog. He was having trouble breathing.

  “Why?” he asked weakly. The metallic taste of blood was in his mouth. “Why did he order you to do this?”

  “It doesn’t matter, citizen,” the monitor said. “But, before you die, you will tell me where you keep your notes.”

  Halifax tried to laugh, but the pain in his chest made it impossible. All that came out of his mouth was a pitiful croaking sound. So, the Chairman was tying up all loose strings. After ordering him to kill his entire staff – and the sight of the writhing young men and women in the lab after he released the gas into the ventilation system brought tears to his eyes; the salty tears flowing down and mixing with the blood that was now leaking from his nostrils and from between his lips. Cruz intended to keep all knowledge of the new process to himself – to be in a position to dispense immortality to whom and when he chose.

  “You don’t understand,” he said, gasping for air. “I am my notes. I burned all notebooks and papers after committing them to memory.” “Without me, Cruz has nothing.” And then, he did laugh. Despite the pain, he laughed. A fountain of blood gushed from his mouth, spattering the monitor’s uniform, but Halifax continued laughing until his body jerked in a spasm, and went stiff. He slid slowly to the floor, his eyes glazing over. His last thought was, “Fuck you, Citizen Cruz. I get the last laugh after all.”

  The monitor shoved the body aside and began searching desperately for notes, a notebook or journal – anything that might pass for research material. The Chairman would be livid if he returned without them. They had to be in the office somewhere. He yanked out drawers, went through the pockets of the corpse’s singlesuit, and looked in every nook and cranny, increasingly desperate as he found not a single word written upon a single sheet, no recording media – nothing.

  When the late Nigel Halifax’s office looked as if a small hurricane had swept through it, the monitor stood in the center of the room turning in a slow circle. He was in full panic mode. If he went back to Cruz to report failure, he’d be as dead as the pasty-faced scientist.