The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma

by Brian Herbert

  “Is the electronic veil your most advanced use of technology?” Joss asked. He still heard the buzzing of the veiling transponders, but was getting used to it, beginning to tune it out of his consciousness.

  “Maybe,” Pelley said, “and maybe not. We have a few gadgets for this and that, depending on our needs and priorities.”

  Kneeling to look into his own lean-to, Joss estimated it was around four by two meters, and saw that it had a floor of evergreen needles. The enclosure was barely large enough for him to sleep in, and had no amenities. It didn’t even have a mat. Despite the primitive living conditions he felt an odd sense of relief, and very little of the apprehension he had experienced when he and Kupi decided to flee into the wilderness.

  “Not very fancy, is it?” Joss turned at the sound of a woman’s voice. It was the attractive brunette. Perhaps twenty-five years of age, she had shoulder-length hair and hazel eyes. She wore a dark blue parka open at the front, revealing a heavy shirt that curved over her smallish bosom, with the tails tucked into her trousers. Her clothing was typical of her companions, warm and practical.

  “It will do,” Joss said.

  “I’m Evana Popal,” she said, with a smile. “Everyone already knows who you are.”

  He frowned. “Popal?”

  “I’m one of the Chairman’s daughters,” she said, with a shrug. “It’s really not a big deal. He has hundreds of children; some say there are more than a thousand of us.”

  “I see.” Joss noticed that Kupi was looking on, her face a mixture of sadness and acceptance.

  “Did you grow up on the Montana Valley Game Reserve?” Kupi asked.

  Evana shook her head. “No, I’m one of the others, scattered around the Green States. I think I was born in Baltimore, before it became a human reservation and a GSA military base. But I’ve never been sure. My mother was always sky-high on dope. It was a friend of hers who told me who I was.” She nodded toward Mord Pelley. “Later, this man adopted me as his daughter.”

  Looking at the tribal leader, Joss said, “Mr. Pelley, I recognize your name because I used to be an eco-cop.”

  “I was a bad person,” he said with a hard smile, “advocating individual property rights, trying to protect my land against green Communists who wanted to take it away from me and use it for their own purposes. What a nerve I had, trying to keep them from trampling over what I’d worked for all my life.”

  “And they got your property anyway.”

  He nodded somberly. “I had three thousand acres in West Texas near Palo Duro Canyon, the prettiest ranchland you ever saw, right on a fork of the Red River. I worked hard for that spread, as my father and grandfather did before me. I hoped to pass it on to my son, Barret, but the commies brainwashed him, turned him against me. Then they rezoned my land for green manufacturing, and under an aggressive GSA law of eminent domain they offered to pay me a pittance for it. I shot and killed three government agents when they served a notice on me, and I’ve been a fugitive ever since.”

  “You’re the one who came up with the word ‘greenatics,’ aren’t you?” Joss said.

  “My term for rabid environmentalists,” Mord said, nodding. “Like Kupi here, I have been noted for my government criticisms, such as my observation that the government is a spoils system for revolutionaries who are either not qualified for their high-level jobs or are profiting unfairly, at the expense of others.”

  “You’re also known for hunting deer, elk, bear, and other animals, leaving their carcasses where the authorities will find them,” Joss said.

  “Yes, for that too,” he said. “I was a businessman when the GSA took over. I had a corporation, but I was not a bad ‘Corporate’ at all. I gave my ranch hands stock ownership plans, medical and retirement benefits, generous perks. Hell, they even swam in my pool. But the GSA lumped my company and others like it in with the onerous, greedy corporations and Wall Street manipulators, sweeping us aside so that they could replace us with their own green industries, their own cronies and payoff systems. You’ve said similar things yourself, Kupi.” He patted her on the shoulder.

  “But I don’t leave animal carcasses around.”

  The old man smiled ruefully.

  “It seems that we all have interesting pasts,” Kupi said.

  “And all of us opted out of the system,” Mord said. “There are many people like us living in these forests and other remote places, people who don’t care for GSA politics, the Berkeley Eight, the Chairman, or any of it. We just want to lead simple lives, away from all the pressures, the injustices, the bureaucratic intrusions.” He waved an arm, indicating the forest around them. “My American dream used to be a ranch. Now it’s this.”

  “Sounds like exactly what I need,” Joss said, “as long as I’m not asked to perform any tricks.”

  44

  The revolutionary environmentalists twist science to get what they want, saying they’re using the “best available science” to determine public policy, when in fact these are code words for cherry picking from a repertoire of biased scientific studies. Arguing with the Greenies’ faulty science is like shouting into the wind, because they will disregard or minimize evidence that disputes any position they are trying to assert. Your points will be ignored, and you will be demonized.

  —J. Harrison Cunard, one of the Corporate presidents who was tracked down at the end of the war and executed

  THAT EVENING, JOSS and Kupi were given a welcoming supper of forest greens and spicy wild rabbit, a communal meal that was held in a large underground shelter where the people sat at long tables and benches sculpted from the stone floor of the cavern. At the event, Mord Pelley regaled the guests with his self-reliant philosophy of life and with stories of the glory days when he owned a big ranch in West Texas.

  Soft yellow lights provided dim illumination in the cavern. Even though the tribe had veiling technology to prevent satellites, heat sensors, and other forms of detection from perceiving their whereabouts, they liked to play it safe and not use lights on the surface unless absolutely necessary. Hence, solar-cell fixtures were left out in the daytime in order to gather a charge and were then taken underground each evening—and not used in the lean-tos and other abodes on the surface, where most of the people preferred to sleep. For those areas, the settlement had a limited number of night-vision goggles, supplemented by the ones Joss and Kupi had brought with them.

  After the meal, Joss, Kupi, and others who lived on the surface went to their lean-tos, using the goggles to see their way in the darkness. One of the young men showed them how to use the sleeping foils provided for them by the tribe. The foils, utilizing stored energy from solar panels and treetop wind generators, had dials to control the interior warmth. Using a rolled-up coat for a pillow, Joss fell asleep quickly, cushioned only slightly from the hard ground by the pine needles.

  Hearing voices in the morning, he awoke to find that Kupi had already arisen, and was nowhere that he could see. It was only dawn, but in a clearing by the sleeping quarters he saw many men and women doing their stretches and morning exercises, including Evana Popal, who wore shorts, a T-shirt, and no shoes. Noticing him as he peered out, the pretty brunette smiled and waved, a cheerful gesture.

  He washed quickly in the icy water of a nearby stream, then joined the others in the clearing, taking care to find a place away from the young woman. He’d never been outgoing with strangers, but admitted to himself that he found her attractive. While beginning his own exercise routine, however, he couldn’t help sneaking glances at her as she went through an energetic series of deep knee bends, crunches, jumping jacks, and full push-ups. She and the others wore the familiar half-sun emblem on their shirts or shorts.

  Dawn People, Joss mused. Now he understood why they called themselves that, because they arose so early.

  For years he had suffered from tight hamstrings and quads caused by jogging, so he had his own routine of leg lifts and stretches, which he performed while the others went through thei
r individual sets, without any central coordination. Evana was doing pull-ups now from a tree branch. Obviously, she was in exceptionally good shape.

  Joss did his own sets of push-ups and crunches, wearing gray shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt, so that his muscular physique and the strange vinelike scars on his skin were quite visible. As he finished his routine, he looked around for Kupi. Still no sign of her.

  Coming over to him, Evana put her hands on her hips and asked, “You got anything left?”

  “Sure. I was just loosening up.”

  “A few of us are going on a run through the woods,” she said. “Not too far. Six or seven kilometers. You interested in joining us?”

  “I don’t know if I have the right shoes, but I’ll give it a try.”

  She looked at his shoes, which were actually lightweight hiking boots, for use on lower elevations. He’d selected them because they were comfortable and waterproof. “Those might work.” She lifted a bare foot, showing a thick callus on the sole. “I won’t wear any.”

  He smiled, and nodded.

  She introduced him to two other men who were going with them, Zeke Ambrose and Theo Garcia. Ambrose was middle-aged and wiry, while the olive-skinned Garcia appeared to be around thirty like Joss, but a little heavier.

  Following her lead, they jogged several times around the meadow where Joss and Kupi’s plane had landed, then went up a steep, rocky streambed. Evana scampered ahead, but Joss (not wanting to amp up his own metabolism too much) slowed intentionally and fell in with the other men behind her, talking as they climbed, grabbing hold of tree roots and avoiding loose stones.

  Though he’d never worked with the SciOs, Garcia had an avid interest in science and technology. He was one of the people in the tribe who invented or constructed practical things that they needed for survival in the wilderness—catch basins, game traps, fishing lures, wind turbines, solar collectors, and the like. Ambrose was less talkative, only made occasional comments about flora that he could identify, or about interesting birds he saw or heard in the forest.

  Ahead of the men on the slope, Evana ran barefoot, moving swiftly and smoothly, not using any handholds.

  “Pretty amazing, isn’t she?” Ambrose said, as the trio took a short break to watch her.

  “Quite a specimen,” Joss said.

  “She has her eye on you, by the way,” Garcia said. “All the men in the village would like to be on the receiving end of half the smiles she’s already given to you.”

  Joss reddened. “I didn’t notice.”

  He continued effortlessly up the hill ahead of the other two men, then onto a game trail where he’d seen her go. As he made his way, he couldn’t help thinking about her. He didn’t want to do anything impulsive or foolish, though. In the past he’d had relationships with attractive women that he came to wish had not occurred. For a time he’d thought that he and Kupi might be a couple despite their age difference. Now that he knew it wouldn’t work between them, he was back on “the market,” so to speak. Evana was perhaps six years younger than he was, with an outgoing personality, and she had undeniable physical attributes. But maybe she was too outgoing, too friendly. If she was that way with him, she was undoubtedly that way with other men, and he didn’t like that. Was she manipulative? He couldn’t tell yet, but suspected that might be the case.

  She waited on the trail ahead, her hands on her hips as she looked back at him. “It’s about time you got here!” she exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” Joss said, making a decision to behave coolly toward her. He stood beside her, looking back down the steep incline for their two companions, who were out of view.

  Evana made a couple of attempts at conversation with him, but he didn’t bite. “You’re not even breathing hard,” she finally said, “so I know you’re not too out of breath to talk. Are you the shy type?”

  “Maybe I’m not a type at all. Maybe I’m just me.”

  “Intriguing comment. I guess you don’t like me, then.” He looked at her steadily, measuring, judging. She smiled sweetly but not vacuously. He saw intelligence in her hazel eyes, and playfulness.

  “I didn’t say that,” he said.

  “Good, because I’m beginning to like you.”

  “Scars and all?” He lifted his right forearm, showing her the vinelike green scar on it.

  She nodded. “Scars and all.”

  From below, Joss heard one of the men call out. “We’re going back down, Evana! You liar, this is more than seven kilometers! And it’s straight up! Can you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Theo!” she shouted. “See you back in the village!” Looking at Joss, she said, “That’s what we call the collection of hovels we live in—the village.” She turned to continue up the game trail, on a section that headed away from the streambed and widened, so that they were able to walk side by side.

  “I don’t think I should go much farther myself,” he said, stopping on the trail after a while. “I should get back and let Kupi know where I am. She’ll be worrying.”

  “Is she your girlfriend?”

  “A friend.”

  “More than that?”

  He smiled tentatively. “A good friend.”

  “She’s more than that,” Evana said, moving past him and down the trail, heading back. “A woman can always tell.”

  “We were a couple once, that’s true. But that part of our relationship is over.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, aren’t we getting personal? Maybe I’ve already told you too much.”

  “What will we talk about on the walk back, then?”

  “Nothing, I guess. How about your life story?”

  “I have an unusual father, but his eccentricities have not been passed on to me.”

  “You think the Chairman is eccentric, eh? Well, I suppose he is, but he has a good heart, and the best of intentions for this planet. I say that despite the problems I’ve had fitting into his utopia.”

  “Mmmm, a good heart. Yes, I suppose that might be true, but his methods? I have a great deal to say about that.”

  “I’m sure everyone in the village does.”

  The two of them turned around and walked silently down the trail for several minutes, with her taking the lead when the way narrowed.

  Then she said with a glance back at him, “I used to play in the woods near my home as a child, making forts and secret passageways through the underbrush. It was my own magical world, my special private place. Until the revolution took it all away.” She kept talking, though he made no response. “How ironic that Chairman Rahma took away our freedom to go into natural places—at least without off-reservation permits. It seems counterintuitive to me.”

  She paused to wait for him, and gave him a sweet smile that seemed genuine to him.

  “This forest reminds me of my own first memories,” Joss finally said, as they continued on. “Someone abandoned me in the woods when I was a newborn, left me under a tree, with leaves piled on top of me.”

  “That’s horrible!” She stopped and turned to face him, blocking his way. “Are you making that up?”

  “I wish I were. No, it’s true. I was a foundling, taken in by a family.”

  “You were covered with leaves? That’s atrocious. Your mother did that, or your father? Was somebody trying to bury you or keep you warm with the leaves?”

  Joss shrugged. “Who knows? My first memory is of crying, and then of a man finding me and lifting me up into his arms. He was a big, burly man, Trig Stuart. I took his surname after he and his wife adopted me, but I’ve always called them my uncle and aunt.”

  “Mmmm. You’re from the woods, and you have unusual powers, including an ability to generate seeds for plants. What are you, some kind of a weird forest creature?” She touched the vinelike scar on his forehead.

  “No, just coincidence. As you’ve undoubtedly heard, I was in an explosion a few months ago, and transformed by it. There’s a logical explanation for my powers, and it’s nothing supernatural.�
�� He grinned. “I’m weird, yes, but not that weird.”

  “I see.”

  He looked at her intently, saw kindness in her eyes and said, “Evana, I’m sorry if I’ve been unfriendly toward you.”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly! I tend to be too outgoing when I like someone, and that can frighten people off. Are you scared of me?”

  “Of course not.” But he admitted to himself that he was fearful of her, a little. Joss was having feelings of affection for this young woman, and they were coming on too quickly for his comfort. He needed to slow things down. But not too much. He liked what he was feeling, and what it portended for the future.

  They continued down an even narrower section of trail, with him behind her. “What was your family like?” she asked.

  “Uncle Trig and Aunt Gertie were great in every way. My childhood couldn’t have been better. They raised me in a loving home, let me participate in sports, and gave me a good education that enabled me to do well in the Green States of America. I have no complaints about them.” His eyes misted over. “She’s gone now, but Uncle Trig is still doing OK.”

  “I get the feeling they weren’t hippies, that they were a good old-fashioned American family, with apple pie on the counter and Sunday dinner at Grandma’s.”

  “Pretty close, though all that changed in the revolution, when Uncle Trig joined the Army of the Environment and was forced to give up the Protestant religion he’d practiced all his life. He won medals for heroism, but didn’t want to make the military a career. He and Aunt Gertie were always sad about not being able to adhere to their faith, but they went along with the new system.”

  Joss held on to tree roots or low branches whenever he could to keep from falling, made his way down the trail carefully. In contrast, Evana was sure-footed in her bare feet, sometimes waiting momentarily for him before continuing to make her way along the trail.

  “You’re still close to your uncle?” she asked.