I turned the volume back down, unable to listen a moment longer. //Pettine would never be part of this, Howie. You don’t have anything to worry about.//
//I know. I can’t imagine her doing something like that. But I have to keep listening just in case. I have to know.//
I sighed, verbally and through my chip. I didn’t want to, but in a show of solidarity with Howie, I turned the radio back up.
“I think we’ve made contact. I have a chip-to-chip with someone calling himself Luther. Now, Luther, do I have permission to transmit?”
“Yes, sir.” He didn’t sound much older than Howie. And sir? That surprised me, a murderer being so polite.
“Thank you. Now Luther, are you a leader of this Truth Movement? Are you speaking from a place of authority?”
“Yes, I’m a colonel, but we don’t call ourselves Truth. That’s the name you gave us. The media. Trying to liken us to the old time Rebels.” Luther’s voice betrayed a youth that no colonel I ever heard of would have.
“Oh, sorry. What do you prefer to be called?”
“We are Zion, bringers of Order.” The boy sounded like he stood straighter as he said it.
“And what does this Order entail, Luther? How is killing going to bring Order after so many have already died in this cause?” Fox pushed.
“We aren’t killing. There was a death, yes. One death. And it was an accident. One of our younger cadets got startled. His gun went off. We’re truly sorry for that. But now...” Luther stopped.
“Now what?” Fox urged him on, taking a moment to allow the young sounding ‘colonel’ to compose himself.
“Now I think we have no choice. We’ve killed, whether by accident or not. Now they’re going to kill us. We have to finish our mission.”
“Don’t. Wait.” Fox pleaded.
“I’m sorry.” Luther didn’t even try to hide the fear and remorse in his voice behind false bravado.
“What will it take to stop you from doing this?”
“Nothing can stop us, sir. We have to complete the mission or this poor man, Mr. Sentry, will have died for nothing.”
“What is your mission?”
“We came here to uncover the truth, to find the records of the Glitch. The paper trail. We know it’s here and we know it’s being well guarded. If you could only see...”
“Tell me. Tell me what you’re seeing, Luther.”
“There are servers everywhere. This is a government building but there are servers lining the walls. Rooms full of computer banks. Why would the government do this?” He sounded overwhelmed by what he was describing.
“Luther,” Fox took on a fatherly tone, “That doesn’t mean they caused the Glitch. It means they’re tracking us, yes. But we knew that. We have chips.”
“No, Fox. It means they’re covering up the cause of the Glitch and we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“We’re deep in the data now Fox. We have expert hackers here on site and in our remote chats tearing down these walls.” His voice turned shrill for a moment. In my mind I pictured him trembling.
Fox pressed further. “We need to stop the hacking and the invasion of privacy. There are better ways to get our point across, Luther. Ways that don’t get people killed. Stop this nonsense.”
Luther nearly yelled his response. “We didn’t mean to kill! And there’s no other way. We’ve been lied to our whole lives. We were forced to get these damn chips and then they said nevermind. They want us to get them out. And then magically there’s a ‘Glitch’ that kills millions of innocent people. How about that killing sir? How about that?”
“I understand that, Luther. I lost people in the Glitch, too. I’m sure everyone listening to us has. Nobody in this world is unaffected by the Glitch. Even Sturn.”
“Do you really believe that?” Luther blew out a long breath of air which sounded like a mix of incredulity, and finally remembering to breathe in the heat of the moment.
“Yes, I do,” Fox’s voice lowered. “There have been too many rumors for it not to be true. First Lady Sturn has been out of the public eye for so long. Nobody can confirm that she’s been seen at all since the Glitch. That can’t be a coincidence. Now, I don’t know if she died right away, or if she’s got the Wasting. But she’s affected, and so is Sturn. That’s his wife.” Fox’s voice broke.
After a pregnant pause Luther returned, his voice also low and somber, “It doesn’t change anything sir. We’ve got to put a stop to the tyranny.”
“And who will take over when you stop this so-called tyranny? Will it be you? You don’t sound a day over twenty.”
“I’m twenty-four.” Luther barely whispered the words, obviously knowing how ridiculous it sounded.
“That’s nowhere near old enough to rule a country. And I don’t think the usual process of vice president and speaker will work here. Speaker Peck has been absent for two years. Congress is all but defunct. You don’t need to do this. They’re destroying their own selves.”
“They’re not taking me with them. I’m tired of losing people. We all are!” With that, a roar of voices whooped and hollered behind him. The tide was turning.
//Are you still there?// I chipped to Howie.
//Yeah, there’s no way Pettine’s involved in this. I think I’m turning it off.//
//Finally. Thank you. I want to go to bed.//
//Goodnight.// Howie yawned.
//Night.//
But I didn’t turn it off. I couldn’t.
Fox broke back in. “Is there anyone of higher rank than you there tonight, Luther?”
“No sir, I’m the ranking official. I have far more experience than you think. I’ve been at this since before the fight.”
“You guys have been destroying property, ruining lives.”
“No, we’ve been uncovering the truth. And Sturn has said that we’re the ones who caused the Glitch. I’m here to prove that it wasn’t us. We only fiddled with a few satellites for fun, but we didn’t do any damage. And since the Glitch we’re determined to uncover the truth. The truth will out.”
“Well kid, I hope for your sake that you come to your senses sooner than later.”
“Why?” Fear crept into Luther’s voice, and rightfully so.
Just as he formed the question, a loud boom sounded in my chip, rattling my brain and hurting my ears.
//What was that?// Howie asked. Apparently he wasn’t able to turn it off either.
//An explosion?//
Fox let out a long sigh. “I was afraid of that. The longer they stayed the greater the chances of this.”
//What?// Howie and I chipped to each other.
“I had police breaking in on my holo, asking me to keep him talking. They’ve smoked the building. It’s not lethal but it’s very painful. I don’t think we’ll be hearing from Luther or his companions again.”
//They can’t do that!// Howie shouted in my chip.
//Well they did kill someone. And they’re in government buildings...//
//For the good of the people! We can’t let this stand!//
//Howie we live for the cause. I understand that. But we can’t condone violence. That’s not what our mothers fought for. Your father.//
//Don’t mention my father.// His voice was ice.
//I’m sorry, but I just...// I didn’t know how to bring up the subject of his father. It had been nearly six months since that conversation with my mom the night she died, and I’d still come no closer to talking to him about it. But now wasn’t the right time.
Screams broke our connection. Through the radio and all public broadcast channels blood curdling screams echoed everywhere. Please don’t let that be Luther.
Chapter Thirty-One
January 20, 5AG
“Are you one of them?” Guard Two somehow managed to get right in Synta’s face without her noticing. She was so caught up in her own tale. She could still feel the knot in the throat when the
screams started.
“What? No.” She almost sounded truthful. “Look, growing up where I came from, The Rebels were just... there, you know? Like the Truthers or panhandlers. You can’t avoid ‘em, but you damn sure don’t make eye contact.”
“And this Pettine, Luther? Are they ranking officers –”
Synta cut him off, “As you just heard, Luther is... nothing now.” She paused, scratched the healing skin on her cheek; the thick middle portion of the scar still sensitive. “Besides, that kinda got lost in the background noise when the real story broke, right?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
“We are now in day four of our round the clock coverage of the Special Grand Jury sessions before Congress on the proposed impeachment of President Sturn. For those of you just now joining us via chip we apologize for the recent outages. The system has been overwhelmed. Our engineers worry that five years of no patches or updates has really crippled our ability to keep our chip banks online. We will attempt to bring you up to speed momentarily.
“But first, let’s check in with Anala, who’s been in DC since the trial began. Anala, what’s the latest?”
The camera cut to a light-skinned slender woman in a blue pant suit. Her jet-black hair cut a severe angle across her forehead, the sides pushed back in a regulation fade. Behind her, the blurred scene of the Senate floor came into focus.
“I’m here at the Continental Congress Hearing on whether to impeach President Sturn. I only have a few minutes before we’re back in session.” Anala pointed to the chaos behind her and punched a command into the small remote in her hand. The drone camera hovered above the room, a sea of light brown faces coming into focus.
“Neilson, we haven’t seen this many nations represented in one place in years. As you know, air travel has been one of the hardest hit industries. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the delegates you see here came by boat.”
The drone flew closer to the elongated half-circle desk at the front of the room. Men and women, all in suits matching Anala’s, clamored around their respective desks.
“Anala,” Neilson cut in from the studio, “it appears as though most of the desks are empty. Is this a closed session?”
“No, Neilson.” Anala’s voice rose over there clamor of different languages being picked up by the drone’s microphone. “What you’re seeing is the long reaching after effects of the Glitch. Four years later, many of these nations have yet to recover enough to appoint representatives. Our sources say that the twenty or so people you see at the head of the room are all that’s left of our Seven Sister Nations.”
Neilson asked from the news studio, “Where is President Sturn through all this?”
“He’s been rather low-key, whispering with his counsel in the far corner to my right. He only answers in quick, short sentences when he’s compelled by Justice Petit.”
“Thank you, Anala.” The anchor’s voice broke in. “Now, while we have time, we’re going to show our viewers coverage from the morning session.”
The image changed to a wide shot of President Sturn sitting straight-edged behind a desk with a thin black microphone rising up from the table. He was flanked by academic looking seasoned lawyers. A team of younger, eager legal assistants filled the two desks behind him. His dark curls clung tight to his head, a new cut just for the camera drones. His russet skin, normally taut and vibrant, sagged; tugging at the deep-set lines around his eyes. Those muddy eyes refused to face the cameras, choosing to focus on a thin gold wedding band which he twisted around a long finger.
At the front of the room, Justice Petit adjusted her long black robe and took her place behind the raised pulpit. The large bailiff placed a docket in front of her and recited “Case number 2245-I1, Galactic Security Administration vs Sturn, now in session. Please silence all electronic devices.”
“President Sturn,” Justice Petit began, “You have been brought before this court on charges of domestic terrorism. The burden is placed on the Galactic Security Administration to prove these charges against you. However, you are compelled to testify. I will also remind you, Mr. President, that you will not have the protection of the fifth amendment.”
Voices in the background rose at that revelation. Justice Petit banged her gavel twice, demanding silence.
“First we will hear testimony from GSA’s chair Mr. Amicus. Then, your counsel will have the opportunity to rebut. After their testimonies we will break for recess and reconvene for your testimony Mr. President.” Justice Petit pointed the gavel at the lawyers on both sides, and then around the courtroom at the world leaders in witness. “Any questions on procedure?” Nobody made a sound.
“Alright,” she shuffled papers and swiped across her desk. A hologram microphone appeared in the center of the room, high above the proceedings. “This is Justice Petit. The date is May 1st, 2245. This is the evidentiary hearing on whether to bring forth formal charges against President Sturn. If this Committee finds that charges are warranted, impeachment proceedings will be scheduled. If no formal charges are filed at the end of this session, President Sturn will retain his appointment in office for the remainder of his term. At which—”
“Objection.” A smooth deep voice rose from the GSA desk. A tall man with silvering hair and a suit to match slid his chair back and stood.
“Do not object Mr. Amicus. We haven’t even started.” Justice Petit chided.
Amicus grabbed his lapels and screwed his face up, launching into his best pontification. “I’m sorry your honor but Mr. Sturn cannot return to office. Even if he is not impeached there is the matter of Executive Order 2194A-” The gavel cut him off.
Justice Petit cleared her throat and raised her voice toward the 3D hologram microphone. “Counselor, EO2194A40 is not up for discussion in these proceedings. We are here to review whether President Sturn is culpable in the events surrounding the Glitch on March 13, 2241. Anything that may or may not have occurred after that date are a matter for a separate hearing. Is that clear?”
“Of course, your honor. My deepest apologies.” Amicus’s rich honey voice reverberated through the room.
“Now, since you’re already up, why don’t you start with your opening statement?”
“Thank you, your honor.” Amicus cast his eyes low at his holopad and tapped a few codes onto the screen. He perused it for a moment then set it back on the desk and walked to the center of the room. “Brothers and sisters of our Seven Nations, thank you for coming here today to take part in this monumentous occasion. We will show, through testimony from members of the High Council and from Mr. Sturn himself, that the events of March 13, 2241 were more than preventable. They were orchestrated by Sturn as a ploy to remain in power indefinitely. We will—”
“Your honor.” The older lawyer to President Sturn’s left stood. His thick wavy hair was cropped close to his head, as were all the junior lawyers’.
“No need, Mr. Limine.” Justice Petit broke in. “Amicus, you were ordered not to discuss—”
“Your honor, I wasn’t going to mention the Executive Order. I can show, without bringing the EO into evidence that this was planned long before 2241.” He smiled at Justice Petit and she caught herself as a smile tried to form on her lips.
“You may continue.” Justice Petit nodded.
“Now where was I?” The grin widened across his face. “Ah, yes. Indefinite power. Mighty lofty goal for one man. But, we will show that in the two years leading up to that fateful day, unfortunately coined The Great Glitch, Mr. Sturn conspired with members of his Counsel and his family - yes former President Sturn as well - to cause a global catastrophe the likes of which the planet has never seen before. In doing so, along with other incidental agendas, the Sturns would hold onto the White House indefinitely. In the wake of the global tragedy, they miraculously ‘drafted’ their emergency operation plan in a matter of days, which canceled all electoral proceedings.” He stopped and glanced at Justice Petit, walking back to his desk.
“Not only
did Mr. Sturn perpetrate these actions leading up to the so-called ‘glitch’ but he benefited greatly from our planet’s worst tragedy in history.” Amicus stood over his desk for a moment, letting the baritone of his voice carry the sermon to all corners of the half empty courtroom. Finally, he sat with a flourish, removing his glasses and flinging them on the table.
A slow clap rose from the other side of the room. The old round lawyer seated beside President Sturn hefted himself from his chair, still clapping. “What a show, Mr. Amicus. I think you missed your calling.” The lawyer scratched his bulbous nose and took a deep breath. He started toward the middle of the room, where the GSA’s representative had given his speech, then turned back to his desk. The camera picked up obvious overcompensation for an injured left leg. One hand on the desk for support, Limine began his dissertation.
“The facts of this case are plain and simple, and the verdict will be just as plain and just as simple. There was no conspiracy. There is no truth to this Truther movement. The cold hard, sad, fact of the matter is that our technology advanced as far as it could go. The public was still pushing for more more more, and there was no more to give. That’s why the White House issued the removal of all chips a full ten years before this happened. Did they know it was going to happen? No. Of course not. But any intelligent person could see that we couldn’t sustain that rapid growth. With all the hacking and recycling and who knows what that happened with those chips - those illegal chips by this point - it’s no wonder a glitch happened. The Citizen’s Network was doing a service to those Citizens who hadn’t removed their chips. The government knew that over half the population had defied orders to remove these unsafe chips, and yet it still tried to maintain the information network as a public service to those who needed it. As it still does today, I might add. Now, after going well above and beyond the call of duty, your president sits here today, accused of the most despicable acts imaginable. Your President. Have you no shame, people?”
Epoch Earth; the Great Glitch Page 14
