The Complete Karma Trilogy

by Jude Fawley

  Thinking that he was on to something, that perhaps he knew a way out, he tried to reassert his guidance in her mind. He conjured in the back of her mind the essence of loneliness, or at least his best interpretation of it. And then, once again in her own internal voice, he asked why it was there. He asked where it came from—he knew very well that he had put it there, but he also knew that her mind would attempt to take credit for its origin, and to explain it somehow. And as simply as that, he followed her mind’s attempt back through time.

  It took them to many bedrooms, to casual acquaintances that ended in disproportionate intimacy. It was another emotional experience that Hardin learned something unexpected from—he had never expected to find such a strong disconnect between two very contiguous judgments of a person, from a complete disinterest at one moment to an almost insatiable lust, and then back to a disinterest. Only, that second time, the feeling was tainted with apathy.

  “You’re doing it again,” Hardin said as her with her voice. “You’re feeling a disproportionate interest in this Hardin person, and it will only end in the same apathy that it always does. It’s best to never even start the process.”

  And the real Lucretia responded, she said, “What if it’s different this time? Why wouldn’t I take the chance? It certainly seems different than all of the other times, this time.”

  And then Hardin had to suffer through vivid reenactments of all the other times that Lucretia had thought she was in love, and as she went through each she pointed out the one factor that made that time different, that made it somehow inferior than the present. And the main lesson at the end, it would seem, was what she finally said when she had went through all of those bitter memories. She said, “I’ve learned from all of that.”

  To get away for a while, Hardin decided to invade someone else’s mind. To spend some time in a place he wasn’t loved, where he felt much more comfortable. A few rows ahead, already asleep.

  Mars 12

  An Idyll

  THERE WAS A reason for every lie that Rex Darcy told his biographer. Darcy’s parents had died in the Folgers Revolt, but not as protesters. They had nothing to do with the protest, they just happened to walk by at the wrong time. And they were Evaporated with the rest of the people—with a heavy hand, the police had just put the whole crowd put to death, without ever attempting to sort out who was at fault and who was just an innocent bystander. Because it was easier that way.

  Of all the transgressions committed against Darcy in his life, that was one of the ones that bothered him the least. Despite what he had told the biographer, there was nothing special about his parents—they were nonentities, and only figured into his life insofar as they had donated their genetic material to him, along with a few years to get him through childhood. They left him no lasting impression, no great lessons, nothing that made their memory invaluable to him.

  But to tell that truth, that his parents had done nothing, and furthermore meant nothing to Darcy, was not the sort of message he wished to send to the people who would be reading about his life. Even though parental disenchantment was a widespread sentiment, it was still considered inhuman, much like a dislike for children—Darcy didn’t like children either, although his exposure to them was fairly low. But if the biographer ever brought them up, he would have to say he loved them, even though he had no intention of ever having one. He wouldn’t bring it up himself.

  His slight fabrication that his parents had been directly involved in the revolt, and died for their beliefs rather than for walking in the wrong place, also served another purpose for Darcy—it showed that he had a reason to have ambivalent feelings toward Karma, and toward the old system. If his parents were just randomly killed, then it was the wantonness of the police officers’ violence that had killed them. If they had in fact been the target of Karma’s ordered deaths, then the responsibility of their death was Karma’s alone, even if it was done by means of the police officers he had sent.

  And then the ‘miracle’ he had seen, with a police officer saved by a common civilian from a man crazed by thoughts of revenge—he hadn’t been there. He’d read about it in the paper the next day. And even though it had emotionally impressed him, it wouldn’t seem to everyone like a defining moment in his life if it was just something he had read. So he put himself at the front row—he was one of the witnesses, in the trial. Already he had sent to one of his contacts in the police department, requesting that his name be silently slipped into the portfolio for the case, in preparation for a time when people might research the validity of all his claims. To say that the incident had caused him to give up his belief in the power of science was the most outright of his lies—it convinced him that nothing else would save him. If people could be condemned for doing what was unanimously considered the right thing, then morality was not a game that Darcy wanted to play. The unequivocal truths of science began to appeal to him that much stronger, after reading that article. But the science that was taught in schools was a neutered science, since Karma had removed all of the useful truths from it so that no threat could ever be made to his dominance. To the most elite of engineers, electricity was explained as if it were magic—a switch was flipped and electricity happened. Magnets were rotated in a circle, and electricity happened. Darcy had to go through quite a few banned books before he discovered Maxwell’s laws—the most fundamental of truths, erased from scientific memory so that they couldn’t be used against Karma. It was enough to convince Darcy that he would learn much more on his own. Once again, that was a truth he could never share. Instead, he tied his conversion to a miracle.

  And of course he couldn’t mention that he was in the Karma Tower minutes before it exploded. Helping excavate people from the rubble was a much better alternative.

  By creating all of those dramatic events, Darcy wanted to introduce his apparent ambivalence toward Karma slowly, through the course of his biography. He wanted the reasons for him to defect from Karma’s tenets to be enumerated one by one, and yet for years after it seemed like he should have broken, and become the one to protest most vehemently, he had remained the champion of the old system, and performed Good Works like no one before. It demonstrated a loyalty, a stoicism, that people would be able to relate to and respect. But at the same time, when he replaced Karma’s system of beliefs with his own in the future, they would understand why he would think that improvements should be made. It was a delicate balance, staying in the public’s good favor. Only a small portion of them would think that he was a saint until the day he died. The other, much larger portion would sell him out the moment that he showed any sign of human weakness. And to decry the sins of the recent, favorable past was always a weakness.

  There were plenty of people for him to be sold to. His political rivals sprouted like weeds, moments after Karma had died. He had been quicker than all of the rest, since he knew what was coming, but they had been far more numerous. He won the vote that he himself proposed, but only barely. The men who had come in second, third, and fourth were all very much present in the recently established political scene of Earth. Martin Ficken especially commanded a huge following, and laughingly evaded Darcy’s assassination attempts like they were some kind of bad joke. The others were just as resilient—for five years they had all been constantly campaigning. Their most recent points of discussion were that Darcy should accept a term limit of eight years, like the abandoned precedent of centuries before, and also that he should resign immediately, since he had abandoned Earth.

  Darcy wasn’t worried about the first accusation—he could dance around the issue, postpone, and publicly discuss the merits and demerits of a term limit until he was seventy. The second accusation scared him much more, for the simple fact that it was true.

  When he had made his bid for supreme leadership, and even before, when he had devoted years of his life preparing a series of events that would elevate him to that position, he had always thought that Earth and its people would be his ultimate concern. Th
at he would always look out for their best interest, and appeal to everyone, because he was a genuine representative of so many of them—a person from the lower class. But then he had moved to Mars, and it was hard to look back. Mars was just so beautiful.

  He became distracted with its beauty. His mansion, surrounded by the largest farm ever planted, was the embodiment of a pastoral idyll that had never existed. Instead of setting aside time for dealing with Earth’s concerns, much less travelling there, he devoted more and more time to researching long-lost farming techniques, and genetic modifications that would make the earthling plants better adapted to the Martian environment. His excuse was that it was still fundamentally a concern for the people of Earth—the more food he could produce, the more they could eat. But it was the only concern he was addressing out of thousands more, and if he was being honest, he didn’t care about the people on Earth anymore. He just wanted his time on Mars. Peaceful, serene Mars. The air was so fresh, and the soil so verdant.

  If he let his political image slip any further, Mars would be taken away from him. So he focused on earthly concerns long enough to temporarily neuter his political rivals. A biography would make him seem more present on Earth, more personable, even as he continued to neglect it.

  So on their fourth evening together, Darcy and his biographer, he tried to emphasize his modesty again. He’d been letting that aspect of his image go for some time, after declaring himself king and building his castle. So while they discussed his work on Mars, which involved the pleasant and favorable subject of food, Darcy made sure to widely spread the credit for the success of the system.

  “You wouldn’t have believed, just five short years ago, that such an elaborate system of commerce could exist between worlds. Centuries ago, when maritime travel was first perfected, it changed history. Sugar was grown in the Indies, and traded for rum in New England; the rum was traded for slaves in Africa; and then the slaves were brought back to the Indies, to get more sugar with—all for massive profit. As historians, we have to condemn the trafficking of humans, but if that can be put aside—the ambition is astounding. And now here we are, in the grand scheme of things just a short time later, sending food from Mars to Earth, trading it for intelligent, well-educated people, who come here and think of brilliant new ideas, which are traded for more food—a much more moral triangular trade. And how much more impressive! How much more ambitious! And the profit is measured entirely by quality of life, as it should be.

  “The people I have the pleasure to work with here, I couldn’t ask for better people. They’re the ones that made it all possible. All I had to say was, ‘I’d like to feed the people on Earth, somehow. But I don’t know the first thing I should do to go about that.’ And the very next day we have an economy that extends across the solar system, which couldn’t be any more efficient. All I had to say was, ‘Can’t we grow hardier plants?’ And a month later we’re already harvesting the first crop of a Martian-specific strain of corn, genetically modified to perfectly correspond to the conditions here.

  “I think what I’d like to emphasize most is that this is all still a work in progress, which is an astounding statement if you think of all the things that have already been accomplished here. We’re slowly working our way up Maslow’s hierarchy—we’re taking care of food and shelter, right now. As soon as we can, we’ll start implementing programs that focus on the safety of the two worlds, like reestablishing the police system that fell apart after Karma died. And then, finally, maybe everyone can really start living like a human again.”

  His biographer took notes slower and slower every evening. Darcy took a long pause, while the man moved his pen with lassitude. As a matter of principle, Darcy had insisted that the writer spend the mandatory two hours in the fields per day, but his constitution didn’t seem to be keeping that pace well. He had developed a sickly pallor, and a slight cough. He was exactly the kind of person that Darcy thought the worlds could use less of—but as long as he wrote well, his purposes would be served.

  “Do you have any questions?” Darcy asked, after a while. He looked at his grandfather clock, which was slowly wasting time.

  “Yeah, do you have any water I could drink?”

  Decay 15

  Hunting Children

  WHEN THE HELICAR landed by the City Park, Will went his separate way from the others. He wished them all the best of luck, and ran off immediately in the direction that Karma provided him. It was around two in the morning.

  When he was out of sight of the others, he could finally talk to Karma again. He had to speak aloud to be heard by Karma, which was somewhat inconvenient when he wanted to look like a normal person. Since he was alone, he asked, “Where are we going?”

  “The first person will be in a bar, the Town Pump. Unless he had another way out of a room that the bartender showed him into, then he will still be there. The bartender is complicit in the crime, he will be Evaporated too.”

  It was two miles, but Will went entirely by foot, running. Ever since he had gotten used to his new legs, he would not have had them any other way. Besides the fact that he had to charge them once every other week, they never fatigued, and he made it to his destination in a matter of minutes. He stood at the door, waiting to go in.

  “It’s last call, isn’t it? Will only the two of them be inside?”

  “There’s a whole crowd of people in there still. The bartender did not announce last call. He will be to your right, almost immediately. Eight people to your left. After you Evaporate the bartender, go to the far, back-right corner, there will be a hallway and a room to the right again. If there is a man in there, you will Evaporate him.

  “I almost think I could show you, but it is much easier to add aural stimuli to your brain than it is to add visual. I’m not sure how your brain would react, and I don’t think now is the best time to experiment. Maybe later.”

  “Okay. Maybe later.” Will pushed the door open, looked to his right and left, saw all of the people for himself, and then walked to the bar.

  The bartender was beginning to form words with his mouth, either to tell Will to leave or to offer him a drink, when Will Evaporated him. Some of the people standing behind him, most of whom had watched him walk in, began to scream or to run for the door. Will let them go, he went immediately for the hallway he could see in the corner, through the dim lighting of the bar.

  “What are the chances he’s still in there?” Will asked.

  “There isn’t a window,” Karma replied.

  Will opened the door silently. A man was sleeping on a small cot, laid out in the middle of a room full of bar supplies—broken stools, kegs of beer, mop buckets. Will could hear him lightly snoring, over the commotion in the bar behind him. He Evaporated the man while he slept.

  After he had done it, and while he was making his way back out of the newly empty bar, Will asked, “He really wasn’t broadcasting? You couldn’t see him there?”

  “No. It was just probability. The exact same way that I would have to find a child, if it were necessary for me to do so. For all intents and purposes, we’re hunting down children, Will Spector. And there are quite a few more. I’m going to give you your next destination now.”

  “I’m listening.”

  The next person that Karma made him chase was nowhere to be found. It was in a restaurant that was already closed. Karma wanted one of the cooks to be Evaporated too, but he had already gone home for the night, and it would have to wait.

  Will had broken through the back door, into complete darkness, and Karma had directed his steps, but it had been to no avail. The lights proved the place to be vacant. After going through the whole place, Will asked, “How long ago did you see him?”

  “It was two hours ago. And I haven’t seen him anywhere since—this was the last place.”

  “Where else should I try to look?”

  “We move on. Next on the list. I can actually see five of them now, waiting for a subway, two kilometers away. Run s
outh five blocks, then go west for two. You will find a subway station.”

  Will knocked over a few people on the way, drunk people meandering home from the bars. Half of him wanted to stop to apologize, but the other half of him realized that he had no time to spare. He tried jumping, once he was safely outside, and almost made it an entire block before landing.

  “The subway has already arrived, and they’re getting on it. Hurry.”

  He had just caught sight of the entrance down into the subterranean world of the subway. He hurdled the stairs, through a group of people who had just debarked from the same subway that he was after, just in time to see the subway leaving.

  “It’s gone,” he told Karma.

  “Go after it.”

  He was careful not to jump when he went from the platform to the tracks. In the controlled environment of the tunnel, which was nearly uniform as far as the eye could see, he was interested to see how fast he could actually run, if he put all of his energy into the effort. He was pleased to find that he could catch up with the subway in no time at all. He grabbed on to a railing on the back of the train, and pulled himself up.

  Through a small window, he could see that no one was in the back car. Since there was no door, with his bare hand he punched through the metal wall, making perforations, until he was able to peel away a hole large enough for him to fit through. He then walked through the connecting cars, one by one, until he found the group of people.