by Brandt Legg
The redwoods made Deuce feel small. Their humbling nature soothed his stress and changed his perspective. In the silence of the forest, he found mindfulness an easy practice. He’d spent time on the moon and loved the stars, was even contemplating visiting StarFly’s Mars operations, but the redwoods were an integral part of him. Deuce looked at the centuries that had passed between the ageless trees as if he could see time itself. His thoughts went to his lineage.
During the tumultuous days following the Banoff, Booker, along with his wife and their newborn son, had disappeared. They hadn’t surfaced again for more than a decade. By then, Deuce’s father was eleven years old, and the Aylantik government had managed to impose peace and calm on the world. Deuce’s father had been educated by tutors, but learned his most important lessons at the side of his father. Deuce took a similar path to knowledge. His skin didn’t hold the same darkness of his father’s, even though his mother had been of African descent. Her line deviated through several Scandinavian branches.
Booker had continued to stay mostly out of public view, and could go unseen for years at a time. Eventually, in 2060, by then in his late eighties, he had disappeared for good, his body lost at sea while sailing to one of the many private islands he owned. Deuce had always suspected Booker checked out on purpose, having no interest in the ailments of old age. Deuce’s father was another matter.
Five years after the boating accident that claimed his grandfather, Deuce’s father died at forty from a sudden, inexplicable disease that took him from perfect health to death in two awful weeks. Deuce had been just nineteen. The loss of his mentor and best friend had sent him into a dark place, which he still battled thirty-three years later. The passing was made even more difficult with the weight of the world’s greatest fortune thrust upon him, an unprepared teen.
Then came the horrible realization that his father had not simply contracted an extremely rare disease in a nearly disease-free world. He never told anyone of his suspicions, including his future wife and children, but he believed it had been murder. It would be years before that theory would be confirmed, and even longer until he could seek revenge. The decades had not eased his pain, nor borne forgiveness. “Time is a funny thing,” his grandfather used to say and, in this case, time had hardened his resolve for retribution.
But the trees softened his pain. The purity of their presence brought him serenity as nothing other than the stars could do. There is wisdom in every leaf. A secret code, created long ago, that could not be understood, only felt. “It wasn’t just that they robbed me of a father,” Deuce whispered to the magnificent trees. “They stole something irreplaceable from the world . . . truth.”
Deuce had been extremely careful, most would say completely paranoid, since his father’s death. His companies were at the forefront of technology, and much of it was employed to keep the famous CEO safe. He ran corporations hardly anyone knew existed, and other companies that were known, but with his ownership concealed. His empire, revered by some, feared by many, was even more massive than anyone could comprehend. The A-Council didn’t even know its true scale, but they did know two things.
He either had to join them, or be destroyed. The planet could not support them and him much longer.
Deuce checked his INU. No connection to the Field. Everything in the world had a link to the Field. Even in the middle of the ocean one could check their flash or place a zoom. The super satellites orbiting the planet made sure no one was ever out of touch, or untraceable. But in spite of the wizardry of technology that could create human replacement organs and limbs, that had built and populated manned bases on the moon and Mars, which were also connected to the Field, there were places on Earth that inexplicably could not reach the Field, most of them heavily forested areas, and no one knew why. The redwoods seemed impenetrable by the Field, or any other part of the spectrum used in modern communications.
Heavy mist continued to come off the nearby Smith River, and more rolled in from the ocean. The trees absorbed the moisture as easily as humans breathed air, one of the things to which they owed their great size. Deuce loved to see them that way, as if rising like giant reeds from an endless gray lake. He wandered, recognizing each tree he’d known for more than half a century. How many people, he wondered, were incapable of finding their way without GPS assistance? He checked the time, realizing he’d lost track of it. Looking up, cataloging the trees, calculating the distance he still needed to cover, Deuce walked purposely toward the southwest.
Along with the wealth, Deuce had inherited a pure devotion for nature. Whenever surrounded by wilderness, his thoughts would turn to the irony of the Banoff, which had nearly wiped out the human race. Even before the devastating plague, humanity was on a collision course with annihilation. Global warming, water table and ocean contamination, air pollution, nuclear war, and the assorted ailments of over-population were creating an acidic-toxic stew.
“It was only a matter of time,” his father had said.
But the Banoff had saved the planet. By suddenly reducing the world’s population by sixty percent, scarce resources became plentiful. That, combined with the complete elimination of fossil fuels and making non-recyclable products illegal, reversed global warming. The world since had indeed become a wonderful place in which to live. The Unified Aylantik government meant no war, and although the AOI could be heavy-handed, the peace had been kept, and everyone was happy.
“At least they think they are,” Deuce said to the trees, finishing his thoughts.
Then, emerging from the silvery cloak of floating water particles, the reason he had come appeared. An old man with smooth, mud-tinted skin, wrapped in cream-colored linen that couldn’t possibly be warm enough against the January chill, smiled and moved toward Deuce in a way that made him appear part of the fog.
“It’s been a long time, my friend,” said the old man, extending his arm.
“Too long,” Deuce agreed, hugging him, alarmed at his thinness.
The old man’s dark face showed pain. “There’s trouble coming.”
“I know. It’s why I wanted to see you.”
“I can be of no help. It is impossible to change the change.”
“There is a way, and you can help.”
The old man pushed back his hood. “How?”
“By telling me why Aylantik wants to destroy all the books.” He knew the man would know about the library. Somehow, he always seemed to know what was really going on in the world.
The old man barely smiled before staring off, as if looking for a specific tree. He contemplated for more than a minute. Deuce was used to this, and waited as if time had no meaning.
Finally, without making eye contact, the old man said, “There is too much power in books that they cannot control.”
Deuce, disappointed in the answer, found the old man’s eyes, and then said, almost angrily, “That’s not the real reason.”
More silence.
“Then tell me,” the old man said. “Why do you think they’re doing it?”
“Sure, they’d like to limit the amount of discontent that people consume in books, but most of the old paper copies they’re after aren’t even read anymore. There probably aren’t more than a handful of people who have even thought of them in decades. And if anyone checks them out, they’d know.” Deuce paused as the fog became a light, misty rain. “It would actually make more sense to keep the books around, track anyone who looks at them, and then pick those people up for interrogation. There has to be more to this.”
“It’s about one book,” the old man said.
“One?” This had never occurred to Deuce. “Really? Then why don’t they just pull that one and destroy it?”
“It’s not that simple. The book they’re seeking doesn’t even really exist.”
Chapter 16
Runit stared at Nelson. “Blaise Cortez actually asked if you trust him? Let me see that,” Runit said, grabbing the message. Nelson, lost in thought, easily let it sl
ip from his hand. “Nobody trusts this guy. Everyone knows he’s the most notorious scoundrel since Rhett Butler.”
“That’s just like a librarian to compare a real person to a fictional character,” Nelson said. “But in this case, you might have made a good one. Rhett Butler worked both sides, but in the end he was basically a good guy.”
“Is Blaise ‘basically a good guy’? Because we have more than just the books riding on that assessment. It’s our lives, Nelson, and Grandyn’s too.”
“If we can’t trust him, why hasn’t the AOI stormed the library yet?”
“Maybe they’re on their way.”
“Then we shouldn’t have long to wait before we get our answer. Doughnut?” Nelson held the box in front of Runit, who shook his head.
“You keep up with the doughnuts and you’re going to get picked up for weight issues. Then you’ll be no use to us.”
Nelson pulled a half-eaten, glazed-cruller away from his mouth, looked at it as if he were saying farewell to a lover, tossed it back in the box, and pushed it across the table. “From now on, I’m by the book.” He grimaced at his own unintentional pun. “Every hour counts until they shut us down, so let’s make a plan. We can’t afford to waste this day waiting for the DesTIn program.”
“Or waiting for the AOI to burst in.”
During the next few hours they developed a set of procedures that would be used to pull and strap the books. They made a list of a hundred books to test their system. Symbolism not lost on the librarian, nor on the bestselling author, they pulled Fahrenheit 451 first. The Call of the Wild, The Catcher in the Rye, Animal Farm, 1984, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, For Whom the Bell Tolls, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Invisible Man, Beloved, books on Thomas Jefferson, Spartacus, Pancho Villa, Stepan Razin, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., works by Howard Zinn, and a host of other free thought and spiritual books made their list. They broke for food, happily delivered by a local health spot fully approved by the Aylantik Health-Circle. After lunch – Nelson had a salad – they pulled, strapped, and delivered four bundles of books to the back door.
“I talked to my contact at the bottling plant. We might be able to get four thousand books on each truck,” Nelson said, lighting a bac as they stood on the loading dock, speaking in hushed tones.
“That’s not enough,” Runit said, pulling his coat tight against the damp cold.
“I know. If the DesTIn identifies a hundred thousand books, we’re talking about twenty-five trips. The fruit trucks can handle a hundred thousand plus in one load, but it’ll take four nights to get all the books to the service center.”
“It’s too risky. We need to do it in one night.”
“Removing the books from the building and then getting them out of Portland is obviously the scariest part of this,” Nelson said, exhaling a long stream of smoke. “Even if we could get twenty-five beverage trucks in one night, it would be too much activity. The KEL would analyze the scene and wake a real-life agent.”
“Our luck won’t hold for four nights.”
“I know. It’s about twenty-minutes to the service center. Without traffic we should be able to make it in more like sixteen or seventeen. If we get good unloading time, we could do two trips per truck, which could cut it down to two nights.”
“Better, but where is all the manpower coming from to load and unload trucks illegally?”
“What about your volunteers?” Nelson said, lighting another bac.
“A good group of people and booklovers all, but I doubt any of them would be willing to go to prison to save them. Plus most are in their sixties. A bit rigorous.”
“What if they didn’t know they were breaking the law? We tell them that the library is closing and they’re moving all the books to storage, but that we need to do it at night in order to avoid protesters about closing the world’s last library.”
“Some of them would want to be among the protesters,” Runit said. “But if I’m behind the move, they might go along. Yes, it might just work.” He looked at Nelson. “You’re pretty good at this criminal activity. Maybe you missed your calling.”
“Hey, I write fiction. I’m just working my way through the plot that is my life.”
“It’s our life, now, so write a good ending,” Runit said. “Did either Blaise Cortez or Deuce Lipton offer a theory as to why the Aylantik government wants to destroy the books?”
“Blaise doesn’t care, wouldn’t say even if he knew. Deuce on the other hand, he’s angry about it. I mean, he didn’t say that, but he is. The guy comes across as cool as a northerly breeze, but underneath, at least about the AOI, he’s a boiling caldron of rage.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m angry too,” Runit said. “But does he know about the content being changed?”
“He didn’t say, but how could he not. His company makes Eysens, he owns StarFly, not to mention dozens of other hi-tech giants. This guy knows everything that’s happening . . . about anything!”
“And yet he is not using that great might to save our books.” Runit waved his arm up to the library building.
“Someone paid Blaise the ten million.”
“Maybe, or Blaise could be lying. He’s known to do that. It surprising he hasn’t been knocked off. I mean the guy is the world’s most famous rogue. But even if someone did give him that money, maybe it wasn’t Deuce.”
“Oh come on, who else do you think paid him? Grandyn?”
“No one else knows.”
“It was Deuce.” Nelson shot him a serious look. “He’s happy to let us do the grunt work.”
“Happy for us to take the fall if the AOI finds out,” Runit said. “Let’s get back inside. We’ve got an impossible task ahead.”
“Really optimistic, Runit. You know, I’ve heard you tell Grandyna thousand times since he was a little boy that nothing is impossible‒‒”
“Secretly moving a hundred thousand books in the dark of night with Big Brother and the Gestapo watching is as close to impossible as I’d ever like to get . . . but I’m doing it because I believe what I’ve told Grandyn, and I’m doing it so Grandyn can have a future by knowing the past.”
“I know,” Nelson said quietly. He crushed the bac under his heel and followed Runit inside the library.
Chapter 17
Grandyn and his girlfriend, Vida, were waiting for them on the main floor of the library.
“Vida’s going to help,” Grandyn said as soon as he saw his father.
“Help with what?” Runit asked.
“Pull books,” Grandyn said. Vida smiled.
Runit looked at Nelson, who shrugged. “Grandyn, let me talk to you alone.”
“Dad, she knows. I told her.”
“Both of you in here, right now,” Runit said, pointing to a small meeting room. Nelson followed them into the glass-walled space and closed the door.
“What were you thinking?” Runit began. “Don’t you care about her?”
“I love her,” Grandyn said. Vida, a beauty of Brazilian descent, squeezed his hand.
“But you’ve put her life in danger.”
“My life is with Grandyn,” Vida said, her slight Latin accent stronger with anger. Accents were rare two generations after the new language became mandatory, but they still occurred occasionally, as if a genetic trait.
Runit rolled his eyes. “You two are eighteen. You don’t know enough about life to make these kinds of choices.”
“Don’t pull that parent-babble on me, Dad. You raised me too well. You’ve taught me about life, but you always seem to forget that. I know what I’m doing.”
“Damn it, Grandyn. I may have taught you, but you have to live it to really know it.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.” He looked at his father. “Let me live it.”
“We need help,” Nelson interjected. “There are a million books to get through.”
“I’m a good worker, Mister H,” Vida said, shifting in her faux, black leather jacket. “And,
actually, I’m nineteen.”
Grandyn laughed.
“She already knows,” Nelson added.
“Yes, she already knows,” Runit repeated. “This is crazy.”
“Let’s get to work,” Nelson said, clapping his hands.
Until the DesTIn program arrived later, there wasn’t much to do, so they cleared out the room next to the loading dock to be used as a storage space for books between loads. They also set up the strapping machines in two alcoves in the main hallway of the lower level. Still debating how much to tell the staff, Runit put out a story that a number of books were being transferred to a nearby university, but was vague about the reason.
Nelson walked up the street as an excuse to smoke, but he also picked up and consumed a couple packs of peanut butter cups. He felt guilty. Not for the calories, but because he hadn’t told Runit everything about the meeting with Deuce. He’d mentioned the planetarium and Deuce’s failed attempt in Belgium, but held back the information about the prisons, raids, and executions. Nelson had no doubt that if Runit knew about the brutal tactics of the AOI, he would cancel the whole operation.
Nelson felt especially bad about involving Grandyn and Vida, but Runit’s role ensured that Grandyn was already in jeopardy. Once Grandyn told Vida, she had to be let in or they risked a leak. Even if the books weren’t saved, their lives would be threatened anyway.
A volunteer found Nelson on the lower level and informed him that another courier was waiting at the main desk. Nelson arrived breathless from the stairs. After he passed the FRIDG, the courier handed him a small package the size of a pack of playing cards. It had come from Blaise, and contained a tiny INU insert known as a “slide.” He took it to Runit’s office where they installed it on a new INU, purchased specifically to run the program. It had already been loaded with the complete library catalog. The program began scanning immediately.
“I still don’t know how this is going to work,” Runit said.
