The LieDeck Revolution: Book 1

by Jim Stark

  "We're coming in, Mr. Whiteside,” shouted Grant Eamer from behind the controls. “Better do up your tie."

  "Sorry to interrupt your—uh—meditations, Steve, but are you ready for this?” asked Randall.

  "Ready as I'll ever be,” said Steve, “although I'm still not sure I should be part of the group that—"

  "Too late,” said Randall. “You'll do fine. You're about to discover that politicians are pretty ordinary people, but you shouldn't let that fool you or turn you off. Government by ordinary people is as good as it gets on this particular planet."

  "Well,” said Bertrand Joly with a deep sigh, “I'm sorry I'm going to have to disagree with you on your primary recommendation, Randall. I want to assure you now, before the hostilities begin, that this isn't personal. I simply—"

  "I'm a big boy,” said Randall. “I can take it. And besides, what makes you think that I won't convince the PM that you're off the mark on that one?"

  "I'm a pretty big boy myself,” said Bertrand, with a rueful smirk and an unconscious glance at his bulging midsection. “If I lose the argument, I will of course enforce the law as it stands. Where do you come down on this, Steve?"

  Steve hadn't said a word since Whitebird III lifted off the roof of the office tower, but he'd caught bits and pieces of the discussion that had so sharply divided his two traveling companions.

  "I've spent decades listening to devout and not-so-devout Catholics spill their guts in the confessional,” he said. “All I can say is that if the rest of humanity is as screwed up as that flock, you'll probably turn out to be right, Commissioner. I say that very reluctantly, and sadly, but that is my view. The thing I'm going to emphasize is that if it does become necessary to suspend civil liberties or declare martial law, then it must be done carefully, compassionately, and only as a last resort, like Trudeau did back in the early 1970s, in the FLQ crisis."

  "That's where the political subgroup at the L.A.P. came down, right?” asked Randall.

  "Yeah,” said Steve, “and if it's of any interest, Annette and I had a major brouhaha over the issue this afternoon. She called me bad names ... a ‘God damned Catholic Cold Warrior,’ among other things. I hope it was just the drugs. We talked on the phone for a good twenty minutes, then she hung up on me."

  "Ah, young love,” quipped Randall. “At least we can be thankful we don't have to make the decisions, Steve. I sure don't envy Nick Godfrey."

  Several RCMP officers met the helicopter when it touched down on the landing pad. Grant Eamer stayed with his craft, and the three newly appointed advisers were escorted with hissing naphtha lanterns up the rock path to the government retreat. The imposing log building—what could be seen of it—reminded Steve of Randall's lodge at Wilson Lake, though the scale here was far grander. Constitutional accords had been born in this massive, rustic structure. Political visions and visionaries had risen and fallen in these thick woods. And this would be a day for the history books, the day that the Government of Canada had to decide how to face a future that included the LieDeck.

  Inside, Bertha McNeil, the new deputy prime minister, rose to welcome the guests. She explained, with apologies, that she and her colleagues would not be able to expose their views on the subject of the LieDeck “for security reasons.” She then asked the three guests to keep their remarks brief: “Two or three minutes each, please.” She showed the guests to three chairs at the end of a long table, then she walked to the other end and sat. She moved elegantly, to be sure, but it was very obvious that she was tense—extremely tense. “I'd introduce you all around, normally, but they know who you are, and I'm sure you know who they are, and we are rather pressed for time."

  The inner cabinet was made up of those holding the plush portfolios, the prestige jobs, the tough jobs. They were all senior parliamentarians, and they were clearly not accustomed to being briefed by outsiders, especially on matters of national security. There were fourteen ministers around a conference table, with Prime Minister Godfrey sitting off to one side, as if he were going to act as an observer, and nothing more. There was a fresh fire crackling in the massive fireplace, and there was fear, bordering on panic, crackling in the air. After the guests had been served coffee, the waiters were asked to leave.

  "The full cabinet will be meeting here in one hour, so ... shall we begin?” suggested Bertha McNeil. “There's no need to stand. Mr. Whiteside, if you'll lead off?"

  "Ladies and gentlemen,” said Randall stiffly, “I'm pretty sure that some of you wish we could turn back the clock and suppress this new device, but that's not possible. In my opinion, it's also not desirable. I stand to make a great deal of money from the LieDeck, but that's not the totality of my interest in the device. I have never ever seen technology move humanity backwards. Anything can be used for good or evil, of course, but if we can survive the atomic bomb, surely we can survive the LieDeck."

  The president of Whiteside Technologies went on to pitch the kind of relationship that he hoped to forge between the Destiny Foundation and the government. The LieDeck Assessment Program was to be formalized and moved to the Foundation, and Randall said that a portion of the profits from the LieDeck would be made available to study the device's impact. He congratulated the PM for creating the Human Futures Secretariat and naming Senator Cadbury to head it up, and he expressed the hope that the new body would work closely with his Foundation. He asked the government to commit itself to a program of matching grants for non-governmental organizations that became involved in the campaign to tame the LieDeck and facilitate the transition to a LieDeck society. And finally, he pleaded the case for a general amnesty for virtually all pre-LieDeck crimes of a nonviolent nature, an idea that the legal subgroup had thought up and the whole L.A.P. group had endorsed, enthusiastically.

  He also attempted to wax eloquent on the dignity and potential of the human spirit, as he called it, but his words seemed to fall on impatient, unwelcoming ears. To wrap up his presentation, he expressed his absolute belief that most Canadians would soon adjust to the “Helliwell-effect,” the so-called “truth imperative,” without any need for draconian measures of control.

  Shifting eyes and fidgety buttocks told the story. The ministers were not convinced.

  Bertrand Joly wished he had been allowed to stand for his presentation. People didn't like disagreeing with men as big as he was, and his physical size often added up to a few stray points, awarded subconsciously.

  He began by reminding the inner cabinet that when the lights had gone out in Miami, back in 2012, riots and looting had started up in minutes. He was a thin-veneerist at heart. He'd seen too many corpses, interrogated too many genuine psychopaths and testified at too many grisly trials to share Randall's confidence and optimism.

  "Civilization is tenuous, at best,” he thundered. “When the LieDeck hits the streets, you'll have a choice between martial law and chaos. No one wants chaos. No one wants martial law, either. But if that is the choice, we must not choose chaos. If I were you, I would declare a state of emergency, including full martial law, beginning tonight. But I am not certain you can get away with that politically, so I'll leave you with this piece of advice. Do not wait too long! Your government is going to be held accountable, one way or another."

  When the huge frame of Bertrand Joly shuddered into silence, the cabinet ministers responded with silence, just as they had for Whiteside. His last words had sounded more like a threat than he had intended, but ... so be it. Some people need to see a stick before they pay attention. They had to be told that, even if they already knew it full well.

  While Randall and the Commissioner were speaking, Steve had found himself in that same sour mood he had known so well for so many years; whenever it came time to write yet another sermon that few people would hear and fewer still would appreciate. He automatically went back to the habit of scanning his internal inventory of aphorisms and clichés. He thought of quoting St. Luke, about how “the truth shall make you free,” and rejected it. “Truth d
oes not blush?” Nonsense. “In the end, truth will conquer?” Not always. “Truth never hurts the teller?” Good Lord, no ... that one would get beeped!

  After decades of being accepted as a dispenser of wise counsel, it was humbling and embarrassing to face the poverty of his actual life experience. He felt his face redden as he remembered his attempted confession to the L.A.P. group yesterday, and he realized with horror that he had no words that would fix anything today. But now it was his turn to face this tough audience. He had a duty to perform, even if there was only faint hope that his input might matter ... or help. He knew he wasn't supposed to stand, but he did so anyway. No one objected.

  "No one knows with any degree of certainty where the LieDeck is going to take us,” he began tentatively, “and that may be the most difficult problem we face here. Fear of the unknown is not only universal, it's smart. It's what makes us extra cautious when we take our first step, or get on a bike for the first time, or a horse. It's what gets us through childhood without accidentally killing ourselves. And yet we absolutely refuse to be ruled by that fear. We do learn to walk, and we do ride bicycles and horses, and we believe in ourselves enough to fly flimsy metal chariots to the moon and back.

  "If I know anything, I know the difference between knowledge and belief. Belief is as fragile as smoke. Belief can blind us. Belief can make us insane. Belief is accepting as true what we imagine to be true ... meaning anything at all. Small wonder that belief can mangle brains in ways that the strongest narcotic can't. But in the absence of knowledge, belief can get us through the night, through the day, through our lives.

  "It seems to me that humanity must have faith in itself at this extremely critical point in our evolution. Even if we can't foresee how we're going to get from where we are to wherever the LieDeck will lead us, we can certainly strike an attitude, and that is what I recommend.

  "You should assert that humanity can and will deal with the LieDeck, with all of its consequences and effects. I have had an awful time with this device myself, and yet I am convinced, personally, that we will learn to live with it, in time—even profit from it—morally, or spiritually, if I may still use that term. I think that kind of message has to be communicated over and over until it sinks in; the power of positive thinking, if you will.

  "Having said that, I am nonetheless of the opinion that Commissioner Joly's unhappy expectations will turn out to be correct. However, I am not frightened by that—not in the least—and I don't think you need to be frightened either. I surely don't envy you the task you face, the decisions you have to make, but I must and I do believe in you, the men and women who hold the reins of power in our democratic system.

  "In return for my faith in you, I respectfully request that you, who have the power to act and the responsibility to act, believe in us, in the people. No one here would argue if I reminded you that truth is the only legitimate basis for moral authority. If you do not believe that we, the people, can handle the truth, then you have no right to govern this fine confederation of ours.

  "You must give us the freedom to fail, and yet you must also protect us from others who would do us harm. There might well come a time or a circumstance when you must protect us from ourselves. If you come to the conclusion that this is such a time, then I ask you to do what you must do with compassion, and with a view to relaxing and eventually undoing any new measures of internal control at the earliest possible moment.

  "I most sincerely hope that you find the wisdom and the courage to steer a course that assures the preservation of democracy, even if it requires temporary suspension of all or many of our democratic rights and freedoms. The truth may not exactly make us free, my friends, but it must not—I repeat—it must not lead to our enslavement."

  Silence was a hard reaction to fathom, and although he understood the inner cabinet's need for secrecy, he felt like he had just given a sermon on the evils of masturbation to a congregation of retired nuns. As he sat back down, he unconsciously put a forearm under his posterior to adjust the cassock that wasn't there, and blushed, again.

  Prime Minister Nicholas Godfrey rose to speak like man under a great weight. He had been seated off to the side, and now he approached the table, leaned on it, and took a deep breath.

  "On behalf of my colleagues,” he said slowly, “I want to thank you for coming, and for your commitment to keeping this visit confidential ... at least until those nosy press people find out about it with their LieDecks. Your views will help us deal with this issue when the full cabinet meets in...” He checked his watch. “In forty minutes.

  "We face trying times. This we know. What we don't know yet is how we are going to deal with those trying times.

  "We have been asked to believe in the common sense and essential decency of the people. We will do that.

  "We have been asked to work with non-governmental organizations who participate in the process of getting the country and the world over the LieDeck hump. We will do that, too.

  "We are aware of the need for compassion. In fact I hope we will be on the receiving end of that very rare commodity, because we will need it as much as anyone else, perhaps more.

  "With regard to the admonition that the Government of Canada might have to choose between chaos and martial law, you can be sure that we will be searching for another path, a middle ground, a new direction that will redefine the options available to us as a Government, as a nation and as a global civilization. We are all in this together, and while you will want inspired leadership from us, we will need your support and the support of the people generally. I can't choose chaos. I just can't. But I am loath to choose martial law.

  "As for tomorrow, I earnestly hope your sale of LieDecks to the public can be orderly and without incident, Mr. Whiteside. I will be watching the event closely, and I will be addressing the issues raised by the LieDeck in the House, at eight p.m., eleven hours after your sale begins.

  "Once again, our thanks to all of you for taking the time to speak with us, and may God guide us all."

  And if there is no God? Steve didn't say.

  Chapter 45

  SALVATION

  When the helicopter arrived back on the roof of Whiteside Technologies, Randall asked Steve if he'd like to join the RCMP Commissioner and himself for a wee nightcap. Steve declined, explaining that he had to study some notes he'd left in the L.A.P. meeting room. The plan was for him to be driven back to Norway Bay by a Patriot agent, and he wanted to review these notes on the way. He also realized with some regret that he hadn't found a convenient moment to tell Randall about the Bishop Doyle situation. As Steve entered the waiting elevator, he resolved to do so tomorrow.

  Randall and Bertrand Joly got off on the top floor, said their goodbyes to Steve, and headed down the hall to the boardroom. Steve was now alone in the elevator—well, alone with one of the ever-present Patriot hostesses, who was clever enough to sense his mood and say nothing. “Six,” he said, and she pressed the button.

  The hostess wore no make-up, and was dressed in blue slacks, a white blouse, and a vest. The vest is probably to conceal her weapon, Steve thought. She stood silently by the elevator doors as they closed, at just the right angle to say: “I don't have my back turned, but neither am I inviting or expecting any small talk.” A glance and a reserved smile sent Steve the message, “I'm not being unfriendly, just doing my job."

  She wore a delicate perfume—Patriot allowed that—and in these very close quarters, it seemed to Steve that she smelled ... he searched for the right word ... “edible"? He looked up from his shoes, took in her profile, especially the bust, observed the way her strapped-up breasts suspended the sides of the vest, like the hanging door-flaps of a tent. Before he could stop himself, he involuntarily imagined her naked.

  He pinched his temples to reprimand his wayward brain, and wondered why he still felt so guilty. Then he caught her eyes. She smiled politely, again, briefly ... knowingly. Steve tried to smile back, but he couldn't cope with the redness th
at washed over his face and squealed on him. She looked away, back at the doors, which mercifully opened onto the sixth floor and allowed them both to get on with business.

  In addition to his duties as the overall chairman of the L.A.P., Steve had been chairing the subgroup studying the impact of the LieDeck on belief systems and public morale. Although the job was far from finished, their use of the LieDeck had allowed them to make considerable progress in much less time than these sorts of things ordinarily took. Opinions were easily identified as such, and shunted aside. Opinions weren't irrelevant, but they could be dealt with later. The consensus reached by all the subgroups was that their first goal was to get at the facts.

  Steve found the notes he was looking for on his desk. He put them in his briefcase and snapped the lid shut. “All set,” he said to his ever-present minder, as cheerfully as he could fake.

  A few minutes later, after an uneventful elevator ride and a courteous goodbye to the hostess, he was in the backseat of the Patriot car with the interior light on, opening the briefcase and shuffling through his notes. “I don't mean to be impolite,” he explained to the driver. “I've just got a few things to do here."