Seriously, though - what was up with this generation? These kids - was it all part of some grand cycle? A century from now would kids be protesting against authority again? Or was this a permanent change? Maybe after society got rich enough kids stopped rebelling. There was a phrase. What was it? A boot stomping. Stomping in the face... no, wait... what did the kids call their sneakers? 'Yundangs' ? A yundang stomping somebody in the face. Who was it that was getting kicked in the face, though? He'd seen something on the wallscreen...
Mike's eyes closed.
* * *
Mike was awake again - and so was his headache. He reached for the clicker for the paracetamol, and then stopped. He'd had enough for a while.
On the wallscreen the newsclip ended. Mike gestured to play it again. The editing was well done. Deceitful, but well done. The spliced and overdubbed video of the bar fight made Mike look like the clear aggressor. Mike gritted his teeth...and immediately winced in pain. He blinked the tears away and focused on the video.
The artful cuts between camera angles hid the fact that Hugh had spit on him. There was some serious talent on display in the fake closeup of Mike's face. The colors were probably enhanced a bit too - Mike doubted that he turned that red. The straight arm to Hugh's chest was lovingly captured and the image froze while the narration continued "- in addition to an unpermitted construction company, Martin is also alleged to be involved in an illegal weapons manufacturing syndicate, and has recently been linked by sources to an armed gang running a protection scheme. The ominously named 'The Morlock Volunteers' references a fictional race of cannibals in a nineteenth century novel."
Mike paused the video. Despite himself he had to tip his hat to the editor.
And whatever its other flaws, the video made him look like a bit of a badass. He liked to tease Darcy that when she was out on a run she should worry about all the young women throwing themselves at him in her absence. While it wasn't a complete invention, there wasn't that much truth to it - but after this video there might be a bit more. He'd already gotten a few emails from guys at the gym about the clip.
His smile slowly slipped. The video was pure, over-the-top propaganda - but that didn't mean it wouldn't be effective back on Earth. Couple that with the new focus DC Minute was putting on the economy and the "economic crimes,” and it was clear that the Earth governments were preparing the PR battlespace for the coming war.
And what were the good guys doing? Nothing. The pro-freedom side had to start punching back, and punching hard. Mike made a note on his slate to check to see how many submissions there were for the Boardroom Group's journalism and marketing prizes. That done, he brought up the dossiers of the college kids. Yes, he was obsessing. Yes, he knew that.
Hugh Haig. Tufts grad. Mom was Maryland senator Linda Haig. Hugh seemed like a general middle-of-the-pack fuck-up: campus involvement in Communities First, Young Internationalists, Just Agriculture, the usual. No criminal record, no real jobs - just internships at NGOs and government offices.
Allyson Chery. Campus involvement with Just Agriculture and Beehives Not Bombs. A volunteer on organic farms, arrested three times for protesting and trespassing at fertilizer companies. He flipped to her college transcript and scanned it. Not the sharpest chisel in the tool chest.
Louisa Teer. Not much on paper - almost nothing, really. Zero documented involvement with any group other than Young Journalists. Interviews with acquaintances painted her as smart - and radical. She'd never been arrested. Mike suspected that that wasn't because of lack of radicalism or commitment but because she was smarter than the average protestor. He made a few marks on the slate; he wanted more information on her.
And finally, Selena Hargraves. This one was a bit of a mystery. She'd been active in the some of the same student and political groups as the others in her first two years but had drifted away. She stood out from the rest of them in another way: she'd worked two different summer jobs. Real jobs, not volunteer work.
He thought about that while he looked at her picture. No arrests. Real jobs.
Did this mean that she was the moderate of the group? Or did it mean that she was even smarter than Louisa - smart enough not to establish a paper trail?
Mike made another note. PR was another front in the war and he needed intel.
Chapter 84
2064: Icarus Crater, Lunar Nearside
The oak trees were thick and dense, the way they had been for the last two days. John turned sideways to squeeze between two of them and then, after straightening again, saw that the dirt trail petered out in fallen leaves and needles just a few meters further on.
He cursed, switched off the forest overlay, and squinted at the sudden glare. The oak trees were gone, replaced with boulders - and where the dirt path had petered out in the virtual world, the real world had a steep rill of gravel and stones. John turned back the way he came and the glare from the early morning sun reflecting off the landscape was just as bad.
Sunrise days were the worst. Even with the normal filters, the glare was constant, and the long shadows from every rock and bump in the land made walking tricky. In a day the sun would be high enough so it wouldn't be as bad. He knew his mood would improve without the constant irritations of the poor lighting. Of course, even with the glare gone he'd still be in a foul mood. Gamma and the Earth hostilities weighed heavily on his mind, trading places as the biggest concern from time to time, but never leaving him at ease.
It was going to be good to get back to Aristillus, where he could talk to Mike without fear of eavesdropping. He'd call again tomorrow and try to get through to Darcy.
But that was tomorrow - today he was hiking. This path was a dead end, and he needed a new one. Where were the Dogs anyway? He craned his head but didn't see them anywhere. Ah, there they were: they'd taken a parallel path and were downhill to his right. He squeezed between two boulders, slipped on some scree, caught himself after a short slide, and picked a route down the slope.
Ahead of him the Dogs apparently didn't share his frustration with the treacherous footing - they were running in circles and wagging their tails.
There were advantages to being a quadruped.
But what were they so worked up about?
John switched to their channel.
"That's the last of them - check the bodies for loot!"
He sighed. The MMORPG.
Should he check it out? The real world was nothing but glare and rocks, and the 'Pacific Northwest' overlay was getting a bit old.
Why not?
He clicked over and his screen was covered with pop ups. It took ten seconds to dismiss the dozens of alerts about status, health, and the offers to "level up" by payment of elven amulets, Dwarfish gold, or Bitcoin.
And then, after they were gone, he looked around. He was standing in a dripping cancerous forest. Where the Dogs had been were now short cloaked creatures with swords. John looked at them curiously and laughed. Big feet, fur-covered snouts. And at their feet - four dead creatures, lightly armored in leather, green-skinned, and tusked.
To his right the cargo mules were replaced by ponies loaded down with saddle bags and cargo.
Duncan pinged him.
"John, you've logged in!"
"Don't get excited; I'm just looking," John said. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but what exactly is this all about?"
"We're a band of Hobbits. Well, not real Hobbits, because Max says that pretending to be primates is demeaning. So Rex hacked some race stats and made HobDogs. Oh, but Blue isn't a HobDog; he's a thousand- year-old shape-shifting wizard named Snorri the Grey. He just looks like a HobDog. Right now we're crossing Mirkwood -"
John cut him off. "I get it. So the four of you are running around fighting simulated monsters?"
"Not just us - you too! We've had you played by an NPCbot, but now that you're in -"
"Wait. Hang on. I'm not 'in'; I'm just looking."
Duncan ignored the objection and raced on. "You're AraJohn, a desc
endant of an ancient king, but your second cousin is destined to the throne. But, anyway, we can get into the details later. Right now we just killed a band of half-orcs, but there could be more nearby, so you should be on your guard."
John looked at the dead bodies. "These computer-generated monsters are orcs?"
"Half-orcs. And they're not computer-generated. Well, I mean, some of the monsters are NPCs, but now that the satellites are back up, most of them are PCs."
"English, Duncan."
"Most of the monsters - and most of the allies, and the townspeople, and the elves - are player characters."
John gave Duncan a quizzical look. "I still don't understand what you're talking about."
"Most of them are played by other people."
John raised his eyebrows. "Other people? Are you telling me that folks back at Aristillus are plugged into this game?"
"A few - but mostly it's Earth players."
John blinked. "People on Earth are volunteering to run characters in your game?"
"Oh, no. That'd be crazy."
John exhaled and smiled. There. Finally. At least a small bit of this conversation made sense.
Duncan continued, "We charge them!"
John blinked. "You - wait. You're charging people to pretend to be monsters that appear only in your helmets? On the moon?" He paused. "People pay for that?"
"Why would we let them play for free if we can charge them?"
John made it to the bottom of the slope and caught up with the Dogs, then walked with them in silence for a few minutes. "How much?"
"How much do we charge them? I don't know what it's at right now. The price fluctuates. It's an auction."
"Why, with all the online games back on Earth, is anyone paying to play a game that has you four dancing around on the moon?"
Duncan shrugged. "Novelty, I guess. Well, and, of course, the fact that we might actually die."
John's eyebrows rose. "You mean your characters might die in the game?"
John saw Duncan roll his eyes over the in-helmet camera. The gesture didn't have quite the same effect without a human's white sclera to accentuate the movement, but it still conveyed a meaning. "I think it's the fact that we might actually die out here on the surface that has the fans excited."
John digested that for a moment, then went back to an earlier question. "I understand that the price fluctuates, but - roughly - how much are you making? Should I be charging you for my guide services out here?" John smiled at his joke.
"A few thousand -"
John swore in surprise.
" - per month, but we're making most of our money off of the betting market."
"Betting what? What are you talking-"
"Hey, John, hang on. There are more half-orcs coming and Max says that Blue - I mean, Snorri the Grey - is about to cast a spell. I've got to get in on this combat or I get docked shares. We'll talk later, okay?"
John's mouth opened and closed helplessly. Thousands? Per month? Betting markets? Auctions.
He shook his head.
It was going to be good to get back to Aristillus.
Chapter 85
2064: Meyer's Park, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside
Hugh shot video of the park.
At his elbow Louisa scolded him. "To the left - make sure to get that nanny playing with those kids. That highlights the class angle."
"I got it."
"Your framing is bad. Get some more."
Hugh sighed and shot another minute of footage, tracking the white kids as they ran off to splash in a wading pool with a Chinese girl and two Nigerian boys.
Louisa waved her hand. "Cut. This segment is on privilege and economic exploitation; let's not complicate it with extraneous details."
Hugh lowered the three-D rig. "What else do we want?"
Louisa looked around, then shrugged. "I think we've got enough for this segment."
Selena and Allyson had been talking nearby and approached now that the filming was done. Selena looked at her phone. "We've got another three hours left on our half-day pass. I want to go sit on the grass for a bit."
Louisa said, "We've got all the footage we need."
"I still want to sit on the grass." Selena turned and walked toward the grass. "Allyson, are you in?"
Hugh looked at Allyson, who stood indecisive.
He knew her answer before she said it. "I'd like to, but how do we know that it doesn't have pesticides or -"
Hugh cut in. "Go ahead, sweetie. I saw a sign at the gate; it said it's organic."
Allyson smiled. "Thanks!" She ran to join Selena who was already a sitting near a copse of young trees. Hugh joined them, sitting next to Allyson and nestling his head in her lap. He sighed contentedly.
Louisa stalked over to them and looked down. "This is a waste of time. There are so many other stories we could be researching right now."
Hugh looked at Louisa and said nothing. Neither did either of the others.
Louisa crossed her arms in frustration, and then sat. A moment later she pulled out her pad and began working, sparing a moment now and then to shoot dour looks at the other three.
Hugh saw her doing it but didn't care. Life was good. He let his eyes drift over the clouds, sky, and sun above. The illusion wasn't perfect - you could see hints of outlines of duct work and cables if you knew where to look - but it was good.
Selena cleared her throat. "Guys, there's something I want to bring up. It's... " she paused. "It's going to sound weird."
Hugh twisted his head in Allyson's lap. "What is it?"
"I've been doing some research on Jamie."
"Jamie Matteo? The labor organizer?" Louisa said.
Selena nodded. "Yes. But I don't think he's a labor organizer."
"What are you talking about? We've got videos from protests. He's given us great leads about the Boardroom Group." Louisa puffed herself up. "It's pretty disrespectful of you to suggest-"
"His real name is George White. He's an ex-cop from Chicago. He fled an indictment there and he's been a private investigator in Aristillus for two years now. He's playing us."
"What? That's impossible!"
Selena took a moment to gather herself. "It is possible. I've got proof. And I've also got proof that he's working for Leroy Fournier."
Hugh scratched his head. Leroy Fournier? He'd heard that name. One of the tunneling guys, right? Not part of Mike Martin's cabal - one of the good guys.
Selena pushed on. "You know all this information he's been feeding us information about Mike Martin and his friends? Mike and Leroy are business competitors. They hate each other. It's on SurfaceMining.ari, punditdome.ari, all over."
Hugh sat up, pulling his head out of Allyson's lap. "Wait a second. Why would Leroy -"
Selena shook her head sadly. "This isn't about Jamie - George - helping people. This is about Leroy jockeying for position against a business rival."
Hugh frowned. "This must be a mistake. I bet that there are two George Whites. Or two Jamies. Or whatever."
"I've got evidence. It's the same guy."
Hugh said, "Your theory is that Leroy is paying someone named George White to pretend to be Jamie - just to score some status points? That makes no sense."
Selena furrowed her brow, then shrugged. "OK, never mind."
Chapter 86
2064: First Class Homes and Offices main office
Mike knocked on the door and walked in without being invited. Javier looked up from his desk. "Mike! You're out!" He stood. "How are you doing?"
Mike touched his bandaged head gingerly. "Better than I was. I'm off the pain meds and the headaches are almost gone. What've I missed while I've been away?"
"You've gotten all the minutes of the meetings."
"Yeah, but aside from the paperwork, how is -"
One corner of Javier's lip turned up. "The meetings been running smoothly given that you haven't been there to disrupt them - is that what you're asking?"
Mike smiled. "H
a ha. Seriously though, we need to talk. Have you been watching the Earth media?"
Javier turned serious and nodded. "I have."
"Do you -"
"Yeah, I sense it too. We need to get a drink."
Mike held a hand up. "Jesus, no. After this skull crack I don't want to drink again for months."
"You don't need to drink, you just need to get a drink. In public. We need to show people that you're on your feet again."
"Oh, God, no. If there's one thing I don't want to deal with right now it's people."
"And yet, you have to."
Mike stared at Javier for a long moment. No, he wasn't joking.
"Do I really have to?"
"You really do."
Mike sighed. "OK, let me get this off." He reached up for his bandage.
"No! The bandage stays on. That's half the point." Javier checked his slate. "Most of the manufacturing sector's first shift is just getting off now. If we hurry we'll catch it when it's good and crowded."
Mike groaned. "I hate crowds, Jave."
"Do you want to be a leader or not?"
"I've told you a dozen times: no, I don't."
Javier shrugged. "And I still don't care. Now come on, let's go motivate the troops and win the PR war."
Chapter 87
2064: Trentham Court Apartments, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside
Hugh looked at the empty iced coffee cup and crumpled donut bag on the kitchen counter and felt a wave of disgust. Skipping a real breakfast and working on the story with Louisa had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he not only was jittery and on edge but also felt a familiar self-loathing. He took the trash and sorted it in the recycling bins, looked at it, and pushed the donut bag further down, hiding it under other materials.
Maybe some real food instead of this sugary crap would help. "Louisa, I'm thinking about grabbing an early lunch - you want in?"
Louisa shook her head silently, intent on the displays in front of her. Ever since Selena had told them that she had evidence that Jamie Matteo was really George White, Louisa had been even pissier than usual.
The Powers of the Earth (Aristillus Book 1) Page 36
