The Raintree Rebellion

by Janet Mcnaughton

  “But when I saw her on the holo-projection today, she seemed so, well, evil. I was almost looking forward to discovering all the bad things she did.”

  Erica sighs. “You’re going to find there aren’t many evil people in this story, Blake, or good ones either, for that matter. We’re mostly looking at a lot of ordinary people who made bad decisions. I met a man today, very important in the technocaust. I’m sure he’s in your dossier: Evan Morrow. When I asked him how he got involved, he said he was only trying to trace his wife and child. He was promised access to the tracking systems that might have let him find them if he cooperated. By the time permission was finally granted, his child was dead. He never found out what happened to his wife.”

  Another man who lost his wife and child. Like Prospero. Like my father. There must be hundreds of them.

  “Are you all right?” Erica asks.

  “Maybe. Erica, why are we doing this? We can’t fix the past.”

  Erica thinks for a minute before she replies. “You’re right. We can’t change the past. I used to think everything would be better if we could only defeat the Protectors. Then, amazingly, that happened. The Uprising came, and I expected democracy would be restored, everywhere. Even if it took time, I was sure it would happen.

  “But now it’s stalled in so many places, and that seems to be because of the past. So many people are still hurting, the way you hurt, Blake. So many people have unanswered questions about the technocaust. It’s as if the past is choking everything, leaving no room for a future. We have to put the ghosts to rest, to make room. That’s what I came here to do. It’s not about good and evil, it’s about discovering the truth.”

  “But can’t we just put everyone on trial?”

  “Criminal trials aren’t the best way to get to the truth. One crime is considered, a few at most, and it’s in the best interests of those being tried to hide as much as possible. You learn less, not more. Look at you, Blake,” Erica says. “Or me for that matter. Who’s responsible for what happened to us? Which individuals?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Neither do I. With trials, there would be no justice for people like us. No one would hear our stories, because we’d have nowhere to testify. I’m convinced that healing won’t begin until victims can tell their stories. I believe healing is more important than vengeance. And we need all the stories. If we only hear from the victims, we’ll never really understand what happened. We have to find a way to hear from the other side, too. Maybe that means we have to forgive anyone who agrees to participate in the process.”

  “That’s what you want? Anyone who tells the truth will go free?” I’m stunned. “But, Erica, that can’t be right.”

  “What’s right is whatever brings the victims peace of mind. The truth is the only thing that will do that, and maybe the only way to get the truth is to offer freedom to those who are willing to provide it.”

  “I’m not sure I can accept this.” My voice is shaky. I take a breath to calm myself, but it turns into a sob.

  Erica looks distressed. “This isn’t a new idea, Blake. It was used in the past, at the end of the Dark Times, for example, when generations of wrongs made it impossible to assign blame. I know it can work.”

  I’ve got to stop this conversation before I fall apart completely and tell her how I really feel. “I need time to think about this,” I tell her. “Can we stop now?”

  “Of course. Take all the time you need. Ask me anything when you’re ready. I’m here.” Erica looks as upset as I am.

  I always knew our ideas were different, but suddenly, I feel as if we are standing on the brink of an abyss, with her on one side and me on the other. And I can’t see any way across.

  12

  Deth to polutors

  —Eco-terrorist graffito, November 2352

  I leave Erica and go to my room. For a long moment, I gulp for breath. Gradually, I slow my breathing and my heart slows with it. I fall back onto my bed, exhausted.

  Maybe the Justice Council won’t do things the way Erica wants them to. Then, I’ll be able to console her without having to consider what might have happened if they had. But what if she’s right? What if the kind of punishment I want to see will only hide the truth and make it more difficult for everyone to put the past behind them? The idea is so much at odds with the way I want things to be, thinking about it gives me a headache.

  So many wrongs in the world. How can I make anything right? Sparrow. In the excitement of the afternoon, I’d forgotten her. I’ve got to get her away from the Tribe, to do this one thing that I know is right.

  In the night, for the first time since we came here, the nightmare about my mother returns.

  At breakfast the next morning, Erica is cheerful, overly polite, cautiously skirting the divide between us, pretending it’s not there. “Griffin’s talk this afternoon should be very helpful,” she says, and I agree. I’d agree with almost anything she said this morning, grateful for the pretense that everything is fine. Before we leave the house, I slip an apple into my bag with the file I abandoned on the table the night before. Street kids never see fruit.

  At work, Griffin has a plan, as usual. “Luisa and I learned so much yesterday, we should split up this morning to spread the information around. Luisa will work with Astral, Blake, and you can work with me.” I’m grateful I won’t be working with Astral.

  “What do we have today?” Kayko asks,

  “A press conference by the coalition of protest groups that held the rally Astral and Blake saw yesterday, and a series of newscasts, about something called ‘eco-terrorism.’ They both date from November 2352, just a few months after the material we saw yesterday. The newscasts are longer,” he says. “Frankly, I’m hoping for half an hour to go over my notes for my talk this afternoon. If no one minds, Blake and I could take the press conference. Kayko, maybe you could help Astral and Luisa. We can compare notes over lunch.” We divide up.

  As soon as our holo-projection starts, Griffin identifies two of the people at the table as suspects. “See, here they are.” He shows me their dossiers from the file.

  “How did you do that? You must have a photographic memory,” I say.

  He beams. “Well, actually, I do.”

  Working with Astral yesterday was like swimming against a strong current; working with Griffin is like drifting downstream. His enthusiasm cheers me in spite of everything.

  The press conference we’re viewing was held by a coalition of protest groups that came together to renounce eco-terrorism. “We cannot condone violence as a vehicle for change,” the spokesman says. “The end does not justify the means.”

  I would have thought Swan Gil would be present. “Was Save Earth Now there?” I ask Griffin.

  “No, they don’t seem to be represented. Maybe that was the issue that made them split with the rest of the coalition.”

  “Who is that speaking?”

  “Eric Wong. He was a spokesman for Pollution Watch.” “Where is he now?” I’m afraid to ask, but I have to. “Dead,” Griffin says. He pauses the disk, goes back to his file, and finds the dossier. “See? He died in 2354.”

  “How did he die?”

  “It was an accident. He was hit by a car while crossing a street.”

  I’m stunned. “But that never happens. The sensors on the vehicle would stop it.”

  “It must have been some kind of system failure.”

  “What did he mean, about the end not justifying the means?” I ask.

  “When people think they’re absolutely right, they can believe that anything they do to accomplish their goal is right too. Let me give you an example: in the late twentieth century, there were people who believed it was wrong to let a woman terminate her own pregnancy. They felt it was taking a life. Some believed that gave them the right to bomb abortion clinics, and even assassinate doctors.”

  “They killed people to stop them from doing something they considered killing?”

  Griffin
gives me a grim smile. “Logic doesn’t play a big part in this kind of thinking. I can’t begin to tell you how much harm has been done to innocent people throughout history because members of some movements allowed themselves to believe their cause justified any action. No cause is so noble that it cancels ordinary human decency.” Griffin glances at the clock. “I know we’ve got a shorter recording than the others, but I’d like to get back to work.”

  We’re finished in just a few minutes. “Now, I want to go over my notes for this afternoon. Do you mind?” Griffin says.

  “Not at all. I’ve got something to do myself. I’ll be back in a while.” I grab my bag with the apple in it and leave. I can’t quite believe my luck.

  Outside, rain clouds are gathering. The seasons are starting to change. Wind tugs faded leaves off the trees in Queen’s Park. A few people sit on benches, soaking up the sun before it disappears. Sparrow doesn’t seem to be anywhere, so I take an empty bench and rummage through my bag for the apple. It’s golden, almost glowing in this yellow light. Looking at it, I remember a story Erica told me once, about people who were tempted out of a beautiful garden by an apple, the apple of knowledge, she called it, and then they could never return. Here I am, trying to reverse that story, using an apple to tempt Sparrow into a garden of sorts, and, if I succeed, she won’t ever have to go back to the hell of her life with that Tribe.

  I look up and there she is, watching me. She must have been nearby. “Hello, Sparrow,” I say, softly. I hold up the apple. “Look what I brought you.” She comes, drawn by the apple. For the first time, she smiles. She holds out her hand, but I pull the apple away, firmly but not too fast. “Come and sit with me while you eat,” I say. She has to learn to trust me.

  Sparrow perches on the edge of the bench like the small brown bird she is, ready to take flight at any hint of danger. The angry infection by her mouth has started to heal now. She eats the way I used to, cramming her mouth until it’s almost too full for her to chew.

  There’s no point in speaking to her while she eats. The food consumes her. But as soon as she’s finished, I start to talk before she can slip away.

  “Do you like it here, in the park?” I ask. “With all the grass and trees?” She nods. “It would be nice to live in a place like this, wouldn’t it? To sleep under the trees, to walk on the grass.”

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “There are bigger parks than this,” I tell her, “places where people live.” I want to say more, but I stop myself. The Tribes are predatory. If they knew I was trying to take a child away, Tribe members would follow me around, telling anyone who would listen until I paid them to keep quiet. I’ve seen it happen. I can’t tell Sparrow what I want to do until I’m ready to do it.

  “I’ll bring you another apple. Would you like that?” Sparrow nods. “Good,” I tell her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  The sun has disappeared behind the clouds now, the gold gone from the air, leaving the chill of winter-to-come behind. It’s time to go back inside. Progress with Sparrow is slow, but it’s progress. I have to school myself to be patient.

  The other aides have finished with their holo-projections now.

  I find everyone in the media conference room. Kayko smiles at me. “Where did you go? We’re just getting ready for lunch.”

  I dodge her question. “I need to get something from my office. Come with me?”

  Kayko picks up on my tone. “Of course,” she says. She calls out to the others, “We’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”

  “What’s going on?” she asks as soon as we’re in the hall. I look around quickly to make sure we’re alone. “I was just talking to Sparrow, in Queen’s Park. Prospero said he’d take her if I can get her to High Park. I need your help.”

  “Do you think she’ll go with you?” Kayko asks.

  “In awhile, I do.” I hope I’m right.

  “I can get a car to pick you up,” Kayko says. “But Queen’s Park will be tricky. The traffic’s so hectic. Could you get her onto one of the side streets?”

  “That wouldn’t be a good idea. The Tribe has sentinels. We might be seen.”

  “Well, let me know when you’re ready. We’ll look at Queen’s Park and plan the pickup.” Kayko glances around. “We really shouldn’t talk in here. I’m not sure how closely Security monitors this place.”

  “That’s fine,” I tell her. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  Over lunch, Kayko, Astral, and Luisa talk about what they learned in the morning.

  “These eco-terrorists must have been frustrating to deal with,” Astral says. “They attacked randomly. Maybe a generating station one month, or an airline office. Then they might torch a paper-making facility or a medical research lab. And they were almost impossible to infiltrate.”

  “Why is that?” I ask.

  “They had very little structure,” Astral says. “They did have a spokesperson who issued statements from time to time, but they didn’t seem to have a leader. People who wanted to become eco-terrorists would act alone, or maybe with a close friend or two. They might imitate another group, or do something original. But they didn’t seem to communicate with other cells.”

  “So there was no way to place agents inside,” Kayko adds. “It must have driven the Protectors crazy.”

  Astral turns to Griffin. “Do you know anything about them?”

  “They named themselves after a movement that was active in the twenty-first century,” Griffin says, “with roots that go all the way back to the twentieth. They did a lot of damage. And, as far as I can tell, they provided the Protectors with an excuse to start arresting people.”

  “Really?” Everyone laughs because Kayko and I say this together in the same, incredulous tone.

  “Well, I could be wrong—” Griffin begins, but Astral cuts him off.

  “Don’t be so bloody modest. You’re not likely to be wrong.” He’s managed to make his compliment sound like an insult, but Griffin looks delighted anyway.

  After lunch, we file into the same room where I saw all the members of the Justice Council for the first time, the day we discovered the depth of the divisions among its members. Griffin takes his place at the head of the ornate wooden table, looking excited and nervous.

  Before he speaks, Monique Gaudet rises. “Since this meeting is more formal than most, I’ve been asked to say a few words about Griffin,” she says. “I’ve encountered some gifted students over the years, but it’s fair to say I’ve never had the privilege to teach anyone quite as talented as Griffin Stockwood. His ability to create new insights using materials gathered from the past is amazing. It gives me the greatest pleasure to introduce him.” I’m surprised she’s so brief. I suddenly realize I know virtually nothing about Griffin’s past. He seems so open and honest, but he’s actually more of a mystery than any other aide. Why is that?

  “Thank you,” Griffin says. “Monique, Erica, I find it intimidating to address an audience containing two such significant scholars. If either of you would like to comment at any time, please feel free. I’m sure we’ll benefit from your insights. In fact, if anyone has questions, please ask.

  “When I began this work, at the New Sorbonne in Port-au-Prince three years ago, I thought I’d always be struggling with fragments of information, looking through narrow peepholes, never getting anywhere close to a complete picture. The old, dictatorial governments in North America, collectively known as the Protectors, wanted to suppress information about the past. During the technocaust, freedom of speech was eliminated and whole libraries and archives were destroyed. I also thought I’d be working in exile in Haiti. But then the Uprisings came. Not even the most optimistic of us could have predicted what would happen in those historic months in late 2367 and early 2368. The Protectors fell all over North America, with minimal bloodshed, because they were already corrupt and crumbling, and because the military, which had been so active in the technocaust, refused to prop them up any longer.

  “Sinc
e that time, I’ve been able to access new information, communications of the resistance movements that tried to find safe places for the targets of the technocaust, and now we have media reports from South Africa and Australia as well. I know I’m going to learn a great deal more about the technocaust as we prepare our report. This is just an overview of what I know now, with some of my ideas about why these events happened.

  “What do we know about the technocaust today? In the early 2350s, thousands of people all over North America were imprisoned and many died. These were mainly people with specialized technological skills and information. The initial push to limit technology seems to have come from ordinary people. We’ve certainly seen that in the media reports we’ve been viewing over the past few days. But we know the Protectors took the lead when the technocaust began, issuing arrest warrants, conducting raids, imprisoning people in the concentration camps where so many died by design or neglect. All the Protectors participated, though some governments were more zealous than others.

  “But why would the Protectors turn against technology? This question bothered me. Since the end of the Dark Times, North America society has been characterized by extreme contrasts between rich and poor. Before the Uprising, for example, debtors who couldn’t support themselves went into forced labour camps in the industrial zones to manufacture goods the rest of us enjoyed. The medical system reveals the disparities in our society. The rich benefit from the best medicine while the poor get none. Those poor serve mainly as a supply of organs for the middle group, those who have some money but still can’t afford the most advanced medicine. The poor might as well be living in the distant past for all the technology in their lives. Before the technocaust, the rich, including those who ran the governments, had all the privileges of advanced technology. Why turn against something that provided so many benefits?

  “Looking at the years just before the technocaust, I’ve noticed this was a time of emerging freedom. Protest groups formed, meetings and rallies were held. The media reported these events and could even comment on them with no restrictions. If this had been allowed to continue, democratic forms of government might have followed. The technocaust eliminated all those freedoms. That doesn’t seem like a coincidence to me.