The Raintree Rebellion

by Janet Mcnaughton

  For the first time, I hear warmth in my father’s voice, real human emotion. I lean forward involuntarily, to catch what he’s going to say next, but he’s focussed on the screen again. He frowns. “This file has been vandalized. Here’s the change that took Blake out of the system. Let me switch to sub-code.” The screen changes again and he sits back, staring in disbelief. “I should have known.”

  “Known what?” I ask.

  “Who took Blake out of the system?” Hanif says.

  “Falcon Edwards. This is his security code. The date is December 21, 2355. That’s odd,” he adds. “I’m sure he wasn’t working by then.” He turns to Hanif. “Can you check his death date?”

  “I have it right here,” I say, pulling my scribe out of my pocket. I do a quick search. “January 12, 2356.”

  “Just a few weeks later,” my father says. “This was probably one of the last things he did.”

  “But why?” I ask.

  “To punish me,” my father replies. “That’s the only logical reason. I was never sure Edwards believed I couldn’t make that tracking system work. Sometimes, I was almost certain he was just pretending, as if he was playing a game with me.”

  Nobody speaks for a long moment, then finally, my father says, “What about Emily?”

  He must be losing his grip on reality. “I told you about my mother,” I remind him.

  “Not your mother. Your cousin Emily. Tony’s daughter.”

  “I have a cousin named Emily?”

  “She was born about a year before you. When I designed your chip, we had one made for her, too.”

  “What happened to her?” I hardly dare to ask.

  “I don’t know. I lost contact with everyone during the technocaust. I didn’t dare try to track anyone. That would have given them away. After . . . well, nobody from my old life came looking for me. I couldn’t expect them to.”

  “But, could you still find her?” I’m trying to absorb this. It seems unreal.

  “If the chip is working, yes. We should be able to track her. If there’s time, I can do that now.”

  “Not today,” Hanif says. “Time’s almost up, and I need you to show me everything about that sub-code before you leave. This is a major discovery.” Hanif turns to me. “I’m sorry, Blake. We’ll follow up on this, I promise, but not today. Someone will be waiting outside the door to show you back.”

  So I find myself in the hallway again, stunned and confused. I can’t quite feel angry with Hanif. He was generous to allow me to watch at all, and what my father can show him about the tracking system must be important. But where is Emily? What if she’s living with some Tribe, like Sparrow and Spyker were? She might need to be rescued.

  I need to talk to Erica, but when I go to our offices, the new receptionist refuses to contact her. “The Justice Council is in meetings with the Transitional Council. We’ve been instructed not to interrupt them for any reason,” she says. Her tone makes me realize it would do no good to insist. But what could be so important?

  “That was so fast,” Kayko says when she sees me. “Didn’t you learn anything?” Everyone else crowds around so they can hear.

  “We learned a lot,” I say, and I tell them about Falcon Edwards removing my code to exact revenge on my father. I don’t mention Emily yet. I’ll tell Kayko when we’re alone.

  Kayko’s frown deepens as the story unfolds. “That’s horrible,” she says when I finish.

  Astral says nothing, but his face darkens with fury.

  “I think we should add this to our report,” Griffin says. “It tells us as much about Edwards’s character as anything we’ve seen in the holograms,” Kayko agrees.

  “I tried to talk to Erica, but I was told the Justice Council and the Transitional Council are in meetings. It sounds serious. What’s going on?”

  “It must be serious. I can’t get a peep out of Uncle Kenji,” Kayko replies. “We should wrap up this report by the end of the day.” She grins. “Then I’ll see if I can find out what’s happening.”

  We’re just putting the finishing touches on our report a few hours later when a message comes through, asking us to join the Justice Council upstairs.

  “It’s too late in the day to start a meeting,” Astral says.

  “Something’s happened.”

  We find the Justice Council waiting for us with Dr. Siegel.

  “Tomorrow morning, we will be making a major policy announcement,” Dr. Siegel says. “We want you to hear this first, because it has implications for the work you’ll be doing in the future.” He nods to Daniel Massey.

  “We came into this process uncertain how to proceed,” Daniel says. “Some of us, specifically Paulo and myself, wanted traditional forms of justice to prevail. Our difficulties in reaching a consensus have slowed our work and made it more difficult.

  “I’m not sure Paulo and I had a good sense of this place or the complexity of what had happened. We wanted to set high standards of innocence. We didn’t want our work to be clouded by ambiguity. Then, the story of a certain girl became public.” He nods in my direction, and I feel myself redden as everyone looks at me. “Blake’s statement helped us to realize that even an innocent victim could be associated with those who were guilty. Perhaps more importantly, the publicity surrounding Blake’s story brought the Living Lost to our attention.” He smiles. “Cadence Nkomo is difficult to resist. She helped us understand that our ideas about justice might not provide the best solutions for this situation.

  “So, we are completely revising the work of the Justice Council. This will be made public in a press conference tomorrow. Monique, I think you’ve offered to outline the changes?”

  Monique smiles. “I have to tell you, before I begin, how happy this announcement makes me. I won’t be able to talk like this in public, of course. But I feel this new process we’re adopting will bring us much closer to the reconciliation this society so badly needs.

  “Cadence urged us to consider how South Africa dealt with justice at a similar juncture in that country’s history, near the end of the twentieth century. Violence and oppression had dominated that political system for decades under something called apartheid. Like the technocaust, apartheid left few people without some kind of stain on their hands. The Living Lost helped us realize that many people who seem guilty are victims too. So everyone who wants to make a victim statement will be allowed to do so. Blake, that includes you.”

  The room erupts into cheers. Even Astral looks pleased. Monique holds up her hand. “Before you celebrate, there’s something else you need to know. We’re not making this public yet. Cadence has caused us to seriously revisit all our ideas about justice. The people of South Africa appointed a commission for truth and reconciliation. Anyone: who made a complete statement of wrongdoing was granted amnesty. We want to explore the idea of implementing that sort of process here. We’re not sure it can work, but it’s worth considering, especially for some of the more complex cases where threats against family members and other forms of coercion were used to force people to collaborate.”

  This announcement is greeted more soberly. I glance at Astral to see how he’s taking this. He shakes his head, but he looks skeptical rather than angry. I realize what this might mean for my father.

  We’re reminded to keep this information confidential, then told we can go. I rise with the others, but then Erica speaks. “Blake, we’d like you to remain behind for a few minutes, please.”

  I sit back down, wondering what they could possibly have to say that’s too serious for the other aides to hear. Kayko gives me a worried glance as she leaves. Then, the Justice Council focusses on me.

  “This isn’t a punishment,” Erica begins. “We want you to understand that. We’ve had to make a very difficult decision, but we’re only doing this to protect the reputation of the Justice Council. You’ve caused a huge shift in our direction, Blake. We’re all very happy this happened, but it’s inappropriate for someone in an aide’s position to have
exerted this kind of influence.”

  “I didn’t exert,” I say, “it just happened.”

  “When it comes to conflict of interest,” Dr. Siegel says, “appearance is as important as actual occurrence.”

  “This a conflict of interest?” I ask.

  “I’m afraid so,” Erica says. “It’s so unfortunate. If you were an ordinary citizen, like Cadence, you’d be fine. But an aide cannot appear to wield this kind of power.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Erica is too upset to speak. Monique continues. “We have to ask you to resign your position, dear.”

  “But you’re not really asking me at all, are you?” I say.

  “Please don’t make this difficult for us,” Dr. Siegel says.

  “We’d like your resignation now, before you make your victim statement. I can promise you’ll be at the very top of the list when we decide who’s going to appear.” He’s treating me like a child. I don’t want to reinforce that view of myself by making a scene.

  I push my chair away from the table. “Very well,” I say. “I’m offering my resignation.”

  29

  These startling new developments are being attributed to a movement called “The Raintree Rebellion” after the young girl whose story started it all. Blake Raintree is a true hero.

  —Editorial comment, The Solar Flare, October 25, 2370

  “So I gained the right to present my victim statement and lost my job in the same moment,” I say, finishing the story. “The work that mattered to me, contact with my friends . . .” My voice trails off because there’s no way I can finish that sentence, it’s impossible to name everything I’ve lost. I’m sitting on a bench inside a huge tent in High Park, talking to Prospero. Not far from us, children in a small class bend over their books, Sparrow included. It’s too cold for them to be outside now, but the tent is made of self-heating fabric so we’re nice and cozy in here. It will be a good place to spend the winter.

  He shakes his head. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. Yesterday was my last day of work. At least they let me stay to help present the report about the technocaust we’ve been working on all this time.”

  “How was that received?”

  “Really well. They want to make it public. It shows pretty clearly that technology wasn’t the real target of the technocaust, that people were manipulated so the Protectors could maintain their dictatorships. Everyone said we did a great job. Then they showed me the door. Now, I have to wait a few days to make my victim statement. Maybe after, I’ll go home.”

  “Home?”

  “Back to Terra Nova, I mean. I’ve always intended to go back to school. I’m going to be a scientist. Changing the world is just a sideline for me.”

  He chuckles. “You do a pretty good job with your hobby. How about staying on until Erica’s ready to go back? You could work with me.”

  “Helping out with the ghost library, you mean?”

  “I was thinking of something more serious. Somebody’s got to do something for those debtors living around Union Station.”

  “Somebody’s trying.” I tell him what the Living Lost is doing.

  He smiles when I finish. “Great,” he says. “You can start by hooking me up with Cadence Nkomo and Mimi Beaumardi.”

  “There’s something you should know. Mimi’s husband went door to door with a gang during the technocaust, rounding up people the government wanted. He’s still alive. Maybe you wouldn’t want to work with her.”

  “I can’t let something like that stop me, Blake,” he says.

  “If we’re going to put things back together, we need everyone who’s willing to help. How about you?”

  “Thanks for asking but I don’t think so. I’ve always been a bit of a coward. Those people were really scary.” I stand to leave. Prospero has work to do, even if I don’t.

  “Consider it an open invitation,” he tells me when we say goodbye.

  It’s not the first offer I’ve had. Kayko wanted me to work on her holo-zine with her. I had a terrible time talking her out of quitting her job with the Justice Council. Erica too.

  Convincing people they shouldn’t resign because of me has been my main occupation for the past two days.

  Of course, Astral was the worst of all. “I’m quitting too,” he said. “It’s not fair.”

  My reply surprised even me. “Actually, it is. They used a set of rules that would apply to anyone in this situation. That makes it fair.”

  I could see I’d stymied him. “Life isn’t fair,” he sputtered. “It should be.”

  “Astral, life isn’t fair. It never was and it never will be. Only people can be fair. The Justice Council is trying. They need you. Keep your job.” I could see I’d won him over. That gave me the first real happiness I’d had in days.

  Then he said, “Blake, when this is over, you could come to British Columbia with me. Why don’t you?”

  He’d caught me completely off guard. I looked at Astral and I knew I was drawn to him. But then, I tried to picture myself living in a Truth Seeker community. Visiting divining parlours. Astral will spend the rest of his life looking inward. “I can’t,” I told him. “I’d never fit into your world. Besides, I have to take care of something in Terra Nova.”

  “Something or someone?” Astral asked, but I knew from his smile I hadn’t really hurt him.

  It’s much colder outside the tent. I pull the collar of my jacket up around my ears. I’ve spent a lot of time lately thinking about my father and how remote he is from everyone, how finding my mother seemed like a miracle to him. Maybe the distance I put between myself and others isn’t because of everything that’s happened to me. Maybe I’d be like this anyway. But, if my father could fall in love, there might be hope for me. I have to go home to find out. My school is in St. Pearl, and that’s where Fraser is now. I’m still not sure I can love anyone, but if I could, it would be Fraser. We both want to make things better. What was it Erica told me a wise man said long ago? “To live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.” We both want to do that, and it matters.

  When I look ahead to the park gates, Hanif is waiting, exactly where he was all those weeks ago when everything was just beginning. I’m surprised. I still have bodyguards because of my association with Erica, but Hanif is too important to be one of them.

  He starts to speak as soon as I’m within earshot. “Your father reconstructed your cousin Emily’s tracking code today. I put it into the system an hour ago.”

  My heart starts to pound. “And?”

  His smile is like sunlight bursting through clouds. “It works. The micro-chip is still active.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I thought we could find out together. She’s outside the prefecture. I told Erica not to expect you back soon. Is there anything you need to do first?”

  “Not a thing. Let’s go.”

  Hanif drives to a maze of huge hangars at the airship docking port by the mouth of the Humber River. Finally, he stops by some small fixed-wing devices. “A pilot is waiting,” he says.

  We take off abruptly. This noisy, flimsy aircraft feels as if it might shake to pieces in the sky. For the next half hour, my excitement about finding Emily is quashed by my fear of sudden death. Below us, towns and bio-farms give way to a more rugged landscape of grey rock outcrops divided by lakes and ponds. I feel a powerful tug of homesickness. It looks like Terra Nova. The big lake to our left could almost be the ocean. Suddenly, we make a sickening dive. I’m sure we’re going to die. But the pilot touches down so lightly, I barely feel the landing.

  “We still have to drive some distance,” Hanif says. “A hovercopter would let us land close to where your cousin is in half an hour, but we have no way to let her know we’re coming, and I don’t want to alarm her. You’ll have to use the tracker while I drive. A car is waiting.”

  “Where are we?” I ask as Hanif drives away from the airstrip.<
br />
  “North of Georgian Bay, about a hundred and fifty kilometres from where we started.”

  “Are there any cities around here?”

  “No. This area is rural.”

  “Are there Tribes? I’ve been afraid that Emily might be with a Tribe, the way I used to be.”

  “Not out here, Blake. The Tribes are strictly urban.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. Maybe it’s absurd to care so much about someone who is barely more than an idea, but I do. The tracker shows the map of this area, and the tiny blip that is Emily. We have a long way to go. I have time to think about micro-dots and tracking systems.

  “Why did Falcon Edwards remove my code?” I ask.

  “My father had been cooperating for a long time by then. Making him suffer didn’t accomplish anything.”

  Hanif thinks for a while before replying. “I read the report your group prepared about the technocaust. You paint a vivid picture of Edwards in it. He thought he was protecting a way of life. He hated anyone who stood in his way so much that he felt he had the right to destroy them.”

  “There it is again, hate. It seems to be at the heart of everything that’s happened,” I say.

  “Yes, it’s like a toxin. I don’t think we’ll ever achieve democracy if we can’t get rid of it.”

  I’m surprised. “Why is that?”

  “In a democracy, everyone takes turns. Sometimes, the other side gets power. Everyone has to be included, even people whose ideas are repugnant to you. If you hate the other side so much you can’t bear to let them take control, democracy won’t work.”

  This is such a thoughtful reply. “Hanif, maybe I shouldn’t say this, but you don’t seem much like the other people in Security.”

  He laughs. “I feel that way myself, sometimes. When I was taken off the streets, I was trained to work in security. That was the only chance I got. Until the Uprising, I worked for private firms. Being so dose to government has opened up a whole new world for me. Maybe, when everything settles down, I can do something else with my life.”