First Light: Book one of the Torus Saga

by Berg, Michael

  They had just seen a holographic broadcast announcing that due to public opinion, the authorities had decided there was a need for a defense system against asteroids. There was general consensus that it was a good idea – it was then the time when the authorities powered up the grid systems again using the various radio telescopes around the globe. It was a stroke of deception and the public was advised the network of telescopes and the HAARP array were the instruments used to protect them. The antenna was now sending transmissions into the high terahertz frequencies – capable of affecting systems and people’s feelings at their discretion.

  Tim decided to switch it off, as Carmel had left the room anyway. “Come in here,” she called from the kitchen. He responded by idling over to the corner so he could see through the door. “Well, come in.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want to talk. I needed to get away from the projector. It was making me feel bad.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Ever since I was first thinking of leaving the services…and before come to think of it, I have, um, sort of regretted what I did as an officer.”

  “But you said you were only a supervisor – you didn’t actually interrogate people.”

  “Yes, but I supervised those who did, and I am very sorry for this.” She had begun to look quite upset.

  ‘It was not your fault. You were just follow…”

  “Yeah, orders. But it is difficult for me now. I cannot dismiss it simply because I feel happy with my choice to leave and be here. Tim, I feel sad for them. Sad for what is happening to them.”

  “Can I do anything?”

  “You can hold me.” He went to her and held her in embrace. “I have to do something Tim. I have to make some difference - it is part of me now. I don’t want others to lose what I have now.”

  “What can you do?”

  “That is it, I don’t know. I am at a loss to think of anything. When I think of Raynie…and John, if they get hold of him…”

  “Raynie? Raynie O’Day?”

  “Yes, Raynie O’Day. Jake Sinclair, Jenna Atkinson, Lyle Shrewsbury, John, Tobias, Asper…Lorraine.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “No Tim, it is not a joke. I feel for them and others.”

  “I know them. John is the person I am looking for.” He immediately felt as if he might have made a mistake, but then he recalled his trust in her.

  After a few minutes like this, she broke away from him, “What can we do then?”

  “Um, I would have to think about it.”

  “Then take as long as it takes. Thanks Tim.”

  “What for?”

  “For being here...and now for making me feel there is hope that I can do something.”

  “That’s alright. Anytime.”

  Later as they sat together on the couch discussing their options, Carmel had an idea. Tim had no knowledge of where John would be and she had not seen him admitted to the facility. Now she thought of something they could do. “What if we went to the wooden house in San Francisco? You said John told you they had stayed there.”

  “It’s a start. But he said they had to leave pretty quickly – some Agent had followed them to the house.” Carmel thought of Agent Eight, but only for an instant.

  “I think it is worth it. If they get lost and have nowhere to go, then Jenna’s house would seem logical, despite the risk. We don’t have anything else.”

  “I suppose you are right. It was on my list of places to check anyway, come to think of it.” Tim wondered why this idea had not occurred to him – putting it down to the three days he had spent with Carmel, and the very different way he was feeling now as compared to when he arrived in the town.

  “Well?”

  “Well…I think it is the only thing we can try, so let’s do it…um, tomorrow. I have a vehicle.”

  “Oh good, I have not purchased one yet. I am not sure if I will actually.”

  “Tomorrow it is then.”

  Chapter 48

  They awoke next morning to a bright, sunny day, and left as soon as they had eaten, packed a few things, and walked to Tim’s vehicle parked a short way down the road from Carmel’s house. En route to San Francisco, they decided to stick to the older roads and enjoy the scenery at a much slower pace than the automatic driving or the transit road lines. Great forests of Sequoia Pines stood lining the Redwood Highway – the ground beneath them, a rusty red strewn with millions of old pine needles. For a while, they stopped at an old tourism spot to have some coffee. The old cafe looked seldom used these days.

  It was an old wooden café built from large pine logs, and featured various displays and old tree samples. Nobody else was there, aside from the café owners who were an older couple concerned about what was changing now so rapidly in the world. Over coffee, they were eager to talk to Carmel and Tim as they told them there were very few tourists who stopped here anymore. “We just don’t see anyone like it used to be in recent years. We’ve been here all our lives,” the husband said. “My parents passed this business on to me, and their parents to them. My great grandparents founded it mid last century. As a little boy they told me stories of what it was like then. People were happy, the Second World War was slipping into memory and they all had a new sense of life.”

  “It’s true,” his wife added. “My great grandparents owned a small business on the main highway near Placerville as you head towards Lake Tahoe. Oh the times then, with people going on holidays to the lake and the winters of snow when thousands would drive by on their way to skiing. It was very good for business. But now, everyone seems to be too busy with work and city life – we don’t see days like they did so long ago.”

  “Yeah. I wish we could have just ten percent of the customers they had back then. It would keep this place running. The transit lines killed it for us. People are in a rush these days to get wherever they are going. They just don’t stop off along the way at places like this anymore. For many, the Redwood Forests are probably something they see on a hologram as they travel past at a hundred and fifty miles per hour. It is sad…” the husband trailed off thinking of what future may be in store for him and his wife.

  “And these chips,” she said rubbing her arm. “We don’t like it, but we have no choice. You know, we only have about twenty years left in us and they said if we wanted to keep getting our supplement payment in old age, then we would have to get a chip. There will be no more cash, they told us. How we will survive? And! You know what they told us then? We would have to purchase chip payment hardware to be able to accept transactions. It costs far too much to invest that sort of money in this business. Our returns are just not good enough to make it worthwhile.”

  “Yeah, you would think they would make it cheaper,” Tim replied.

  “It’s about closing people down. They are aiming to restrict how much private business is out there. They say they are democratic as they look after public safety and comfort, but it is not true,” Carmel added.

  “Well that’s how it looks for us. Jim and I here are just about beat. We can’t survive paying off a huge debt to the authorities.”

  ‘What will you do?”

  “I don’t know Carmel. Just survive I hope. We might not have a lot of money, but we have each other…and this place.”

  The couple then left Carmel and Tim to their coffee. When they finished, they thought it was time to immediately continue on to San Francisco.

  “Here,” Carmel offered the couple some cash as payment for the coffee. “Take this and go and convert it into chip credits. Do it today. You never know when they might ban cash altogether.” She had given them much more than the price of the coffee and for the price of chip payment technology. “Ah, don’t say anything,” she interjected when seeing the old woman about to graciously give thanks. “Let me…us, thank you.”

  “What…?”

  “You have given us a moment we cannot forget, and we are grateful.” Tim sort of knew what Carmel meant and
said a quiet thank you after she finished speaking.

  “Best of luck to you,” the old couple as Tim started up their vehicle. “Whenever we take this highway, we…um, I will always stop here for coffee.” Carmel could not speak for Tim in this instance, though she too felt they would be spending a lot of time together.

  “Thank you,” both the husband and wife said together, “You are always welcome.”

  “Thanks, bye.”

  “Well how was that Jim? You don’t see the likes of people who are so kind and graceful much these days.”

  “No dear. Thankfully they are still out there in parts.”

  When they were traveling closer to San Francisco, they decided to take the road through the Napa Valley vineyards. Carmel had wanted to see it for herself and felt compelled as she was imagining the great fields of grapes still green with leaves and new fruits, basking in the sun. As they entered the valley, they could see the transit road tube running through hills to the east. There was a regular stream of traffic flashing by at high speed - the occupants inside each vehicle likely focused on images and entertainment. Only a few would take a look at the valley and soon enough Carmel and Tim realized why there was probably not much interest. The former splendor of Spanish inspired vineyards, settled with their stylish buildings amongst the shade of great Oak trees, was a shadow of its former self. Where a vineyard was still in production, it looked a sad affair – a mere silhouette of times past. Most of the vines in the valley were dying, from a new disease the authorities had said. And they were working on a cure. But there would be no cure – they were shutting such places down and they were very likely the cause of the mystery disease.

  Carmel was very disappointed but would not let it get her down. She understood what she saw and she knew there would be others like this – sudden closures, farms bought out by the authorities, roadside businesses as mere ghostly remnants of their past days. The authorities were going to cater for all human needs. They were to control the food output, they were take care of any consumer need good or bad, and they were eliminating character in life. Like the bland architecture of the cities, they were going to match this with making people bland, whilst all the time believing they had choice. The authorities needed this control, but they were not evil, just greedy. And greed leads to all the manifestations required to secure the greed. This was their motivation now and why they were prepared to punish and control people for being in the way of efficiency. Carmel had seen this motto on her holographic bank.

  The inefficiencies of people affected by alcohol and other forms of pleasure were not nearly as efficient as the ones they were to offer. And so the Napa Valley slipped into their rear vision, as they drove on without stopping. Soon the very presence of the place and what it had been known for over the years would also slip into the rear vision and beyond the memories of many.

  The last leg of their trip took them over the Bay Bridge inside the transit line, and they both noticed how contrasting San Francisco looked to its former self. Whilst abuzz with JetCabs and HyperJet flights, there was a visible subdued state to the place. The towers stood at its center, far less visible now in the grey light. Gone were the splendid colors of just a few weeks ago, replaced with a sense of numbness. People could be seen everywhere, their lives not much different, but they looked ‘distracted’, Carmel had said. Tim agreed with her as he pointed out people at update stations watching their holographic phones.

  “They want them to be so dependent on technology to meet all of their needs,” Carmel said as she too saw their faces. They seemed so far from where she was now. She felt alive – more than she had thought possible, and she felt determined.

  When they arrived at the wooden house on the hill, the doors were locked and there were no lights visible from the inside. The time was seven, so without any access, they went to the fringe of the main city block, and found a cheap motel near The Tenderloin. By the time they had refreshed, eaten, and taken to spend time relaxing, the city was almost deserted. The streets were bare, except for an official vehicle now and then, restaurants, cafes, and bars were closed, and soon many would not open again the next day. There were no dogs barking, no cat fights in the alleyways as they had been banned from the city years before. It was silent…almost everywhere.

  Beneath the oldest of the city buildings – warehouses long since disused, remained the last frontier of the underground movement in the city. Since the days stretching back to the beatnik era, San Francisco had become a hive of alternative approaches to life style. Through the decade of the hippies, the human rights movement, the cyberpunks at the beginning of the twenty first century, and the ecology based groups who were the first to call for restoration of the planet and to develop new energies to stop use of fossil fuels – the city was still playing host to the remnants of these movements. They had gathered not in the ways of a sect, nor as the elite secretively meeting. Their nature to gather was just inside them as they were of the type to be explorers in mind and spirit and so their gathering came from it being irrepressible to their intentions.

  Each night at the underground venue, was an all night affair. People would enter by nine when the doors were locked, and then be able to leave after six, when the curfew lifted. The scene inside was of people dancing to music, groups and couples gathered at tables talking, and others sitting on couches exploring holographic art forms. Various states of dress determined the background scene for groups and individuals, some avant-garde – looking for a retro profile, some futuristic and others very much historic. But most wore the Geiga wear, and some had disabled the unwanted features installed by the authorities. They were a mix of people into technology, art, music, dance, and philosophy.

  As they finally feel asleep thinking about what they could do next to find John and the others, Carmel and Tim dreamed together. They shared dreams of them both looking and finding what they sought. They shared visions of times everywhere, like those being experienced by Carmel now. They dreamed of the others not having to run anymore. And they dreamed of each other. By the time they awoke, it was an hour after the curfew lifted, and the streets had gradually begun to fill with people again.

  They needed to go out to eat and so they left as soon as they were ready, heading down Fourth Street towards the bay side. It was easy to tell that all around, San Francisco was like other cities across the globe – it was shutting down. It was like there was an air of subdued life. It was if everything was attached to a specific purpose, out of practicality rather than spontaneity. Like those other cities, and the towns and settlements, it was becoming an efficient machine.

  Some had imagined the horrors of massive machines striding about and ruling over their lives as they began to disappear amongst the endless cogs of machine society, and in part they were correct. It was not so much there would be a dramatic change to Earth, for it would be far more subtle. Over time, the loss of liberties and the attachment to status would become the human evolution as they grew ever more dependent on the machines and services the authorities provided for a sense of living. The price of this to Carmel as she looked across the bay towards Alcatraz was the loss of true spirit, in seeing the elegant grace of what seemed the simplest of things, and the loss of humanity’s connection to this grace.

  They found a small café set in the South of Market district, amongst disused warehouses adjoined to some of the older wharves beneath the Bay Bridge. Carmel noticed the place was different to many of the cafes she had visited so far – aside from the stop off the day before. It was old. It had old framed printed artworks in places, and it had character. She was enthused with this and wanted to know more, and feel the place. Tim felt comfortable too, as the café reminding him of his favorite back in Vancouver.

  “Nice place. Doesn’t have that sterile feel to it.”

  “Yes. I like it Tim. It feels…there is something stirring you. The old couple’s place was similar.”

  “Yeah. Um, this place reminds me of home,” he felt a
little sad for a moment. “But my favourite place there it has already been shut down.”

  “Part of the drive to get rid of a lot of business.”

  “Yeah. People are just accepting this and moving on. I agree with progression and moving on, but not at the loss of so much.”

  “It can be like the blind leading the blind.”

  “So much lack of vision…for the sake of efficiency.”

  “There are principles of that Tim, which are OK. Think of how efficient life is. It is always in progression. I have noticed that so much since I left this city.”

  “Hmm, that’s true. It is just these efficiencies are really nothing more than to drive profit and profit is power.”

  “Because it can also build the machines Tim.”

  “Yeah. Profit can be good, as people can use it to better their lives. But who really makes the profit? All these things…of status. People think they are profiting from their work, their status, but are they?”

  “That’s why I left. I could see through it and I realized for me, there was no point in giving my life to something I could not believe in. I like this place Tim. It is different and has an appeal to me.”

  “Me too. I like the stimulus it gives you. It allows you to really relax and that allows you to open up to being more spontaneous. Some of those other places, expensive places, seem too sterile to me and it is all a show…of status.”

  “That doesn’t interest me Tim. I think status is a net, and the people are all the fish.”