Freedom's Last Gasp

by M. A. Rothman

  Priya sat up excitedly, then quickly glanced back at the car. Tom was still there, too far away to see. Relieved, she looked back down at the device that Harold had become.

  She wondered what had triggered this. This kind of unrequested change from the AI had only happened a dozen or so times in the past, and it usually foreshadowed some kind of message. Would it be another communication from Neeta and Burt?

  It was neither. A dark-skinned man looked up at her from the screen and waved.

  “Hi there!”

  “Hi.” She waved back and giggled as she reminded herself it was just a recording.

  “I’m Dave Holmes, and though I don’t know you in person, I know who you must be. You’re one of the Radcliffe descendants. I was hoping this message would never be needed, but if you’re seeing this… clearly the artificial intelligence has deemed it necessary. For that I am sorry.

  “I grew up in a time that I knew as the twenty-first century. You probably know it as the pre-Exodus. It was a time when countries were sometimes at odds with each other, but overall, there was more peace than war. Each country held its own sovereignty, and in most of the world, there was freedom.

  “Sadly, things are changing in the post-Exodus. I’m seeing the beginnings of a dangerous trend, especially for future generations. Let me share with you a quote from a US president who governed in the twentieth century. His name was Ronald Reagan. I think even now, especially now, in these times, it holds much wisdom.

  “‘Freedom is never more than one generation away from extinction. We didn’t pass it on to our children in the bloodstream. The only way they can inherit the freedom we have known is if we fight for it, protect it, defend it, and then hand it to them with the well-fought lessons of how they in their lifetime must do the same. And if you and I don’t do this, then you and I may well spend our sunset years telling our children and children’s children what it once was like… when men were free.’”

  The words hit Priya harder than she could have imagined.

  Holmes looked sad as he continued. “The flame of freedom burned brightly in many of my generation, but I’ve lived long enough to see the brightness of that flame begin to fade. I hope to God that what I’m seeing now doesn’t come to pass on Earth. Because if it does, it may be freedom’s last gasp, especially if there’s nobody left to nurture that flame.”

  The image faded to black.

  Priya began sobbing uncontrollably. She wrapped her arms around herself and worried about her home. Harold’s kitten form returned, and she scooped him into her arms and buried her face into his purring body.

  David Holmes was viewed as practically a god, even in this century. There wasn’t a person alive that didn’t know who he was. And this deity of a man had just laid on her a warning that she knew deep down in her heart was a real concern.

  Freedom was practically gone on Earth.

  And she hadn’t even realized it.

  Only when given a taste of how life could be different, how life was different here on the colony, did it become clear to her just how enslaved to the government she’d become.

  And that thought brought to mind why she was at the colony in the first place. To spy on them. To take intel to Earth. To save lives.

  But now she felt a creeping doubt.

  Was she actually saving people’s lives? Or was she snuffing out the last flickering flame of freedom?

  Chapter Ten

  The smells in the Central Market—really an open-air plaza of farmers’ stalls and merchants hawking various wares—were exotic. Priya detected cinnamon, fenugreek, other Indian spices that reminded her of her mother’s dishes, fresh citrus, and grilled meat, the last of which made her mouth water. But as she looked around, she saw that some things she was used to were missing.

  She turned to Tom, who walked beside her through the market. “Where do they sell protein charging kits?”

  “Protein charging kits?”

  “You know, the supply packs that go into the food generators.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen those. You’re talking about the devices that create prefabricated meals from vegetable proteins. You’ll see someone who owns one here and there, but they never really caught on in the colony. Those things might make food you can survive on, but I don’t think I’d enjoy my life all that much having to eat that goop. I tried a Salisbury steak from one of those things once.” He grimaced. “Never again.”

  Priya frowned. “Then I don’t understand how you get your meals. Normally I buy packs with the right ingredients and databases built into them to create French, Asian, Indian cuisines. Don’t get me wrong, the food I’ve eaten here is shockingly better than what I’m used to, but what do you do? Does everyone just…”

  Tom paused in front of a fragrant shop featuring barrels of colorful powders and dried items. He looked amused as he leaned in and whispered, “Yes, we cook, believe it or not. We take whatever ingredients we want, and we make things according to our own personal taste, or recipe, or both. One of these days I’ll have to demonstrate to you that it’s actually possible.”

  Priya felt a bit foolish. Of course it was possible, she just had never imagined it would be so widespread a practice on the colony. “Change of subject. You know Terry Chapper, right?”

  Tom laughed. “I should hope so. I’m his brother.” He held out a hand. “Tom Chapper. Nice to meet you.”

  “Seriously?” Priya laughed as she shook hands with him. “How is it I didn’t know that? You guys don’t look a lot alike, but maybe it’s your mannerisms or something that kept reminding me of him.”

  “It’s a well-known fact that older brothers take after their younger and more talented siblings.” Tom deadpanned. “Anyway, it isn’t a secret. That’s part of why Terry and I were assigned tag-team responsibility for your safety.”

  Priya felt a pang of guilt. These people were doing everything in their power to make her safe and at feel home, and she was lying to them about why she was here. Tom was a genuinely nice person. So was Terry.

  And she was a total ass.

  Tom pointed at a stall. “Do you like mango?”

  “I love mango.”

  “Then come with me. I’ll bet you’ve never had a mango smoothie made with real mango ice cream. And you can watch them make it right in front of your eyes. No fancy machinery required.”

  Tom led her to the stand, ordered, and paid. The man behind the counter prepared two drinks, and within a minute she and Tom were both holding large, frosty cups. They clinked cups of the semi-frozen treat, and Priya took a sip.

  It was delicious. Not too sweet, with that tropical mango flavor that put a smile on her face.

  “Pretty good, eh?” said Tom.

  Priya nodded. She had to suck hard on the straw, as the drink had a thick consistency. In fact it wasn’t exactly a drink at all, but nor was it like the ice slushies she’d had at home. Was that the ice cream? Whatever it was, she liked it. A lot.

  As they continued to wander, Tom took it upon himself to serve as tour guide, talking about the history of the market, where the products came from, and the different kinds of things you could expect to find, or even special order. They passed the fruit stands and moved into an area with leather goods hanging everywhere. Purses, wallets, belts, clothing. The smell was musky, pleasant, and entirely foreign to Priya. Such things weren’t bought or sold at home anymore because of animal cruelty legislation.

  She didn’t like the idea of animals being killed for their hide, but she couldn’t help but eye an attractive backpack. She was tempted to ask how much it cost, and had to force herself to look away.

  Priya finished her drink and tossed the empty cup into a garbage can. “Thanks for that. It was really delicious.”

  “You’re welcome,” Tom said with a smile. “I thought you’d like it.” He’d finished off his drink earlier.

  Bells chimed from somewhere nearby.

  “What’s that?” Priya asked.

  “Thos
e are the bells of the Saint Thomas Aquinas Church.”

  “Can anyone go there?”

  “Of course. Follow me.” He led her through the stalls, and within a few minutes they were approaching a large brick building with a bell hanging from its steeple. “Are you Catholic?”

  “No, I’m not really anything. I was just curious. Does it matter that I’m not Catholic?”

  Tom shook his head. “No. In fact, I am Catholic and it’s been a while since I attended services. Actually now I’m feeling a bit guilty.”

  They walked up the steps to the doors of the church, and from ahead of them came a voice raised in prayer.

  “That’s the voice of the Pope transmitted from Earth,” Tom said. He stopped and bowed his head.

  Just above the lintel, the text of the prayer scrolled past in both Latin and English.

  * * *

  Oremus.

  Let us pray.

  * * *

  Gratiam tuam, quæsumus, Domine, mentibus nostris infunde; ut qui, Angelo nuntiante, Christi Filii tui incarnationem cognovimus, per passionem eius et Crucem ad resurrectionis gloriam perducamur. Per eundem Christum Dominum nostrum.

  Pour forth, we beseech You, O Lord, your Grace into our hearts; that as we have known the incarnation of Christ, your Son by the message of an angel, so by His passion and cross we may be brought to the glory of His Resurrection. Through the same Christ, our Lord.

  * * *

  Amen.

  Amen.

  * * *

  An elderly nun in a flowing black habit walked out of the church, but stopped when she spotted Tom. “Thomas Chapper! Well, look who comes for a visit right after the Angelus prayer.” She walked over, clasped one his hands in both of hers, and smiled. “It’s been too long. Are we going to see you this Sunday?”

  Priya smiled as she watched Tom squirm under the woman’s steely-eyed gaze.

  “Yes, Sister Teresa. I’ll come.”

  “I’m counting on you. And Father Patrick will be delighted to see you.” She turned to Priya. “Good evening, child. Are you and Thomas—”

  “No!” Priya blurted.

  The sister smiled and tilted her head questioningly. “Child, I was simply asking if you and Thomas were friends.”

  Her cheeks burning, Priya worked hard to seem unaffected. “Oh. Yes, we’re friends. I’m visiting from Earth, and I was curious when I heard the bells. We don’t have many churches where I live.”

  “From Earth, really?” The sister shook her head. “It’s sad how our ancestral home has fallen so far. Were it not for his holiness, the Holy Land itself, and what the scriptures promise, I’d lose hope that it could ever be redeemed. Il Papa holds out against the evil that remains.” She reached out and clasped Priya’s hand. “I keep you all in my prayers. I really do. What’s your name, so I can pray for you specifically?”

  “Priya.”

  The old woman gingerly cupped Priya’s face. “A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” She tilted her back toward the church. “Would you like to come in? I can show you what our church looks like inside. Maybe meet Father Patrick?”

  Priya glanced at Tom, who shrugged in response. “I’d love to.”

  “Wonderful.” The nun draped her arm over Priya’s shoulders, and all three of them walked inside.

  But just as they crossed the threshold, a loud chirping sounded. The nun paused, her eyes widening with concern, and slowly backed them all out of the entrance.

  “I’m sorry, my dears, it’s our security system. It detected something.”

  She pulled from within her habit a small metal rod with a loop at its end, and waved the rod across Tom’s chest, arms, legs, and head. Then she did the same to Priya—or started to. The moment the rod passed over Priya’s right arm, it began vibrating.

  “Oh dear.” The nun pressed a button on the device and moved the loop down Priya’s arm once more. This time it revealed images within—veins, arteries, and…

  “What’s that?” Priya asked, panicked.

  The loop had revealed a red object, almost like a spider, pulsing within her forearm.

  The nun backed away and made the sign of the cross. “Child, I’m so sorry. Revelation 13:16 and 13:17 say, ‘It also forced all people, great and small, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hands or on their foreheads, so that they could not buy or sell unless they had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of its name.’”

  “What does that mean?” Priya looked from the nun to Tom, her heart racing.

  “It’s the mark of the Beast,” said the nun. “I’m sorry, child. Nobody with such a mark is allowed in God’s home.”

  She turned abruptly, entered the church, and closed the door behind her with an echoing thud.

  Priya stared at the closed door, mouth agape.

  “I’m sorry,” said Tom. “That was harsh.”

  She felt his arm on her shoulders and pulled away. Sudden fury coursed through her. “What the hell is in my arm?” she shouted.

  Those UN bastards! They put something in me!

  Her head pounded and she struggled to breathe. She felt like a band was tightening around her chest, and though she heard Tom saying something, his voice was distant, weak.

  Then the world tilted and she felt Tom’s arms catch her as everything went black.

  “I don’t know. She was upset, and the next thing I know, she’s faceplanting right in front of me.” Tom’s voice.

  “Lucky you were there to catch her,” replied a woman. Priya didn’t recognize that voice.

  “Is she okay?” Tom asked, sounding concerned.

  “She’s fine. Her bloodwork came back normal. She’s just a bit dehydrated and her blood pressure is a tad low. I have fluids going into her, and that seems to be doing the trick.”

  Priya opened her eyes.

  Tom was beside her bed, looking concerned and then relieved. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You’re in the market clinic. You gave me a bit of a scare.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  Priya sat up, feeling the tug of an IV attached to her arm. She was in a tiny room, not really a hospital room, furnished with just a bed and a bit of portable equipment. In addition to Tom, a nurse was there, studying a machine that tracked her vitals.

  “I think I fainted.”

  Tom chuckled. “Yeah, I think you did.”

  At that moment Terry walked in. For some reason he looked not concerned, but amused. He patted Tom on the shoulder. “I’ve got this.”

  Tom shot Priya a smile. “Feel better, Priya.”

  Before she could even think to thank him, he’d left.

  “Nurse,” said Terry, “when can she get up?”

  The woman smiled. “I don’t think we need to keep her. She’s got some fluids in her, and her vitals are all back to near normal.” She turned to Priya. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good, I guess. Just a bit embarrassed and confused.”

  “Pfah!” the nurse waved her words away. “It’s a warm day, these things happen to the best of us. Here, let me unhook you and we’ll get you on your way. But be sure you drink plenty of fluids and take it easy. And if you start to feel lightheaded, you come back here, or to another medical center, okay?”

  “Okay. I will.”

  As the nurse unhooked the IV, Terry said, “I heard what happened.” He caught Priya’s eye. “Why don’t we talk more back at my place? I’ll make you a homemade meal.” He tilted his head slightly toward the nurse, and shook his head.

  His message was clear. Let’s not talk about it here.

  Priya nodded. “Okay.”

  Moments later, Terry had signed her out and they were walking toward his car. Priya opened her mouth to say something, but Terry put his fingers to his lips and shook his head again. He pulled out a handheld PC, wrote something on it, and then showed it to her:

  I’m taking you somewhere where we can talk without them listening. Until then, just talk about anything othe
r than what happened today.

  Priya glanced back and forth between the message and Terry, whose expression told her nothing. Suddenly she wanted to do nothing but talk about what had happened. They’re listening? Who is they? Did Terry know about the implant already? He must have. But then he knows I’m a spy. Or does he?

  She nodded and kept her mouth shut.

  They reached Terry’s car, and he opened the passenger’s side door. Ranger was sitting in Priya’s seat, and barked a greeting.

  Terry snapped his fingers. “Get in the back, you silly boy.”

  The large dog clambered into the rear, his tail thumping back and forth, and Priya took his place in the front passenger seat.

  Terry drove the car out onto the road. “I hope you like things cooked on the grill, because that’s what my wife—Stef—is firing up tonight. I figure it would be good for you to experience how we live in the real world. Outside the dorm.”

  Priya took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was tense as hell and felt the tightened muscles through her neck and shoulders. She leaned against the passenger’s side door and studied Terry’s profile as he drove. He looked calm, and why wouldn’t he be calm? He wasn’t the one who’d just realized there was some strange spider-like device embedded under his skin. Priya, by contrast, was freaking out inside.

  They soon approached a neighborhood—and the homes were unlike anything Priya had ever seen. No, that wasn’t right. She’d seen them, but only in old movies, from the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. The buildings weren’t even connected to one another, and each home was surrounded by lush greenery—lawns of grass, sculptured bushes, and flower beds.

  “How many people live in each of these?”

  Terry shrugged. “It depends on the family. It could be one, maybe two, upwards of four or five I suppose, at least in this neighborhood.”

  “One to five families?”

  He laughed. “No, people.”