There is always a segment of the population which believes that the ills of society can be blamed on the “others”, whoever those “others” may be. The degree to which humanity is willing to reduce itself to its basest instincts is almost without limit or capacity. Mankind should’ve learned from its darkest lessons of history; rather, humanity so often seems more intent on learning how to replicate those dark lessons for a present advantage rather than confine them to the dustbin of history.
It was therefore no shock to any in the Black Shirt Movement, nor to any in the senior leadership of Gens Collective, when Saldana Ri began her propaganda campaign in the wake of the tragedy she herself orchestrated in London reveling in the severity of the retaliation in its aftermath.
That Adam St. James had foolishly played right into this trap was but a sideshow. That he felt fully justified, irrelevant.
Cause and effect, cause and effect.
Have we learned nothing? Nothing about measured response and proportionality? Or are arrogance and hubris justification alone?
***
In the days and weeks following the Incident in London and its aftermath, Saldana Ri was a very busy girl. Every means of communication, both formal and informal, were employed to communicate with the transformed Gens Collective writ large, stoking the flames and passions of the transformed populace to action. What action had yet to be settled, but anger had swept to every corner of the globe.
The Black Shirts, it was asserted, had been correct all along, and Saldana Ri had predicted this cowardly unprovoked attack a long time ago. This was asserted as fact, though no proof had ever been offered up. This was due exclusively to the fact that no such assertion by Saldana Ri or the Black Shirts had, in fact, ever been made. But people are willing to believe almost anything when chaos reigns and demagogues are free to roam the channels of communication.
As she had done previously with the raid on the Gens Collective bank accounts, Saldana decided to piggyback on the existing means and modes of communication between the leadership councils of the Collective and the ordinary individual transformed Gens. There were approximately one hundred million permanently transformed Gens at any given time and about fifty million more transforming with some degree of regularity but not permanently.
The balance of approximately one hundred fifty million natural state Gens would take more time to contact but then raising the rabble with them was not as important. The ranks of the Black Shirts would be filled from the more easily influenced transformed community. Over the millennia, the ranks of the transformed Gens had become more easily excited politically, just like the humans. They could be swayed to action, without much need for evidence or factual support, and spurred to do things that were not rational. Not Gens rational, that is.
By contrast, the natural state Gens seemed only to be moved to action when events came to affect them directly. They did not puzzle over long and complicated conundrums; they simply applied the logic of nature. If it didn’t concern them, why should they be bothered? Gens in natural state had no need of political organization, a Code of Strictures, a Great Council, a Council of Elders, regional and local councils or human complications of any kind.
They had no need for the Black Shirt Movement either. These traditional Gens were not neutral; they were simply indifferent to the “other world” of the Gens Collective.
This Saldana Ri knew and understood. She would eventually have to deal with the problem of the Gens in natural state. They would become a problem later if they weren’t already a problem now. Natural state Gens uprisings had been recorded in modern history whenever an imbalance in the transformed population had risen to unsustainable proportions. No Gens knew why or how; retribution from the great mass of primitives would have to be taken into consideration as a reality to be avoided, even if it could not be accurately predicted.
The E-5 virus might be the answer there, thought Saldana. Once the cure or vaccine was finally and fully developed, all creatures once so high and mighty would be put in their place. No one, no thing and no set of rules owing from civilization would stand between her and absolute power over her kind. It was firmly in her grasp. She could almost taste it.
Then, as she fantasized in her quieter moments, she would return the world to the old rules, the old ways of a more civilized time when order was respected and strong leaders privileged.
Roman times. Emperors, a world of strong men and women, unafraid to exercise power and authority. And slavery. Why had that vanished almost completely from the civilized parts of planet? There was a natural order of things and slaves formed the economic basis for power and wealth, at least it did in days long past.
And that order would be Gens order. Leaders, male or female, able to take power. And wield it through strength and cunning. Science would be permitted only to the ruling classes. Far fewer would be allowed to transform and the human infestation reduced dramatically. From the human residue would come the subservient and slave classes. Personal human slaves for the pleasure and recreation of the ruling elites.
The humans could rule their part of the world in numbers they would be prohibited from exceeding; but in Gens territory there would be no humans who did not serve the Gens elite.
Transformation of the Gens masses would be chemically suppressed, so only rulers and the elites would be permitted to take human form. The games she would stage, the tourneys and mass slaughter of humans bred for combat and other delights. Ah, just the thought of it all was almost too much to bear when confronted with the present reality.
Saldana Ri fantasized about a future and, in that version of reality, she would be the first Gens Empress of that New World Order.
***
Saldana began her propaganda by recounting the unprovoked attacks by humans on an unsuspecting and presently docile Gens Collective. Through the invective and falsehoods came multiple calls to action. The Black Shirt leader then turned her attention to the current Gens leadership after first questioning their inaction and their lack of strong immediate response. How much longer are we going to be cowed by the humans and why hasn’t leadership done anything? How far we have fallen from our roots. If we do nothing in response, then the shame is ours to bear and we are no better than the human pestilence perpetrating the atrocities.
We are poised at the edge of a precipice, having to decide which path to take. Action or inaction; fight or surrender. Shall we follow today’s weak and febrile leadership onward to shame and ultimate oblivion or do we grab the reins of power and fight back?
Is it time for new leadership, strong leadership?
Is it time for war?
Or is it time for Civil War?
Chapter 20
His cell phone rang, and the display lit up to the sound of Ohio by Crosby, Stills and Nash. Misti was calling early in the morning which was, to say the least, unusual. Misti preferred the late night quiet and sleeping in. Her husband was mostly the opposite, although the new sleeping arrangements seemed star crossed; Noki was a sleepy head in the morning too while Alana was habitually up as early as Adam, if not earlier.
***
Alana and Adam worked collaboratively every day on the projects they received from Maria, Edward and Misti while staying in close contact with Team Hannah; they relished the calm, quiet intensity they had developed working together in their basement workshop in Barrows Bay. Adam had never had a true equal partner when it came to his work; he either annoyed his colleagues with his arrogance or he openly disdained, and denigrated their efforts, and levels of skill. He said he never meant to express contempt or disrespect; his attitude was simply misunderstood.
No, thought his family, nothing had been misunderstood, then or now. He meant every ounce of his derision; in his mind, it was nothing more than a statement of fact. Data. Data had no emotional content; the haters should just grow up and get with the program. His program; Adam’s program.
At first Alana just watched Adam at work
, neither judging nor expressing any emotion or opinion. But after listening to a few exchanges with colleagues, sitting in on a few of his meetings and finally watching his interaction with family, she began to understand the complexity that was Adam. At first, she found his rudeness, and insensitivity toward colleagues, and associates appalling. Then, as soon as family called or stopped by, he was an entirely different guy.
Adam was thoughtful and sweet to her; working with him was quickly becoming the most fulfilling professional experience and work relationship she had ever experienced too. Like Adam, Alana had previously avoided all collaborations; she preferred working alone in the days before the Healing. Her work reflected her personal life; quiet, solitary, and undisturbed by social interaction.
She never left her house. Why would she? He was out there somewhere, and he would come for her one day.
To Alana, Adam was the embodiment of a split personality. The odd thing to her: Adam was completely unaware of his mammoth swings in social behavior. To him, everything he did was normal. Besides, Misti not only tolerated of his odd behavior; she thought it was normal too.
Alana mentioned this to Edward and Pops during one of their evening walks to assess whether it was the Love Birds or her that was nuts. The entire family confirmed it was the Love Birds. But they also said they viewed it as harmless eccentric behavior and it seemed to keep both Misti and Adam calm and happy. Their assessment: leave it be. Why stir the pot?
So, that’s what Alana did. Or, more specifically, didn’t do.
One morning while Alana and Adam were having coffee in his office, she said, “You know I love you, right?”
Adam looked at her suspiciously. He was conditioned to be suspicious of any conversation that began with those six words. Typically, it presaged a lecture on some form or variation of his bad behavior.
“Yes, I know. What did I do? Did I do something bad?”
Alana laughed aloud, leaned over and kissed Adam tenderly.
“No, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. I just wanted you to know that I love you. You’re wonderful and I truly find our working relationship … inspiring. That’s all.”
“Do I owe you money? Did Misti put you up to this? Noki?”
“No, no and no.”
She jumped up and came over to him, placing herself comfortably in his lap and wrapping her arms around him. She looked down at him, smiling, wishing she understood what went on in that tangled mind of his. Even so, Alana understood Misti less, and it troubled her more. Adam was a vast unknown and uncharted continent she was anxious to explore; Adam, she believed, was knowable. Misti was a full-blown cryptic mystery, unknowable and vexing to and understanding of one human by another.
One day it would all make sense; fit snugly like tiny pieces into a gigantic mosaic. But today wasn’t that day.
***
Edward said, “So, Misti my love, to what do I owe this very early, early morning phone call? At six in the morning, I thought you’d be looking at least another two hours of sack time. Something wrong?”
“Nope, all good. Just have something on my mind, and I thought I’d stop by for a taste of your world famous, heart attack inducing breakfast. Bethy up?”
“Yes, the diplomat is in session and you are welcome to stop by. Just sipping coffee and reading the Guardian. Won’t it offend Adam if you get caught cheating on his famous breakfast cooking?”
“No, hardly. He and Alana are canoodling in their new workshop talking dirty to each other.”
“Software erotica again?”
“Boys and girls. Just like hitting puberty for the two of them all over again. They’re flirting over algorithms; soon it’ll be heavy petting over computer hardware. Not even sure what that would be like. Anyway, I can come over and pig out?”
“Yes, certainly. Any requests?”
“Scrambly eggs, hash browns, sausages and buttered toast. Loads of butter. Coffee, OJ and sandia wedges if you have some.”
“All in stock. Coffee’s made and waiting.”
***
Bethy looked up as Misti sat down at their large kitchen table. Bethy adored the young woman married to Adam. Bethy thought Misti was strong in so many ways, so confidant in others. Misti was funny, sexy, and powerful. Crazy too, and dangerous in a dangerous and lethal world. A threat to some but, all-in-all, she was a good girl. Bethy liked her a lot.
“So, what furrows your brow this morning, young lady?”
“The Detwilers and the Thierry’s. I’m trying to figure out what that combination is, and I skull through your explanations to me over-and-over again, but I know I’m missing something. I know they’re all very important, but I’m cloudy about why. I want to understand your thinking, old man. I know we need to figure out the many languages the Gens use, and I also get that the decryption of the Gens and Black Shirt super-secret codes are next. At the same time, Hannah is pulling together a cultural, social, and political profile of these folks, what their strengths and weakness are and what she has accomplished is fucking amazing, excuse my French.”
“If true.”
“You doubt her analysis?”
“Not at all. I agree completely with her profiles and analysis and you’re right. Her work is fucking amazing. She and Team Hannah have exceeded even my expectations, as have you, Adam, and Alana. Bethy’s turn is coming soon and I know what she has already achieved. Wait until you see what she has in store for the Gens. Let’s just say they’re so screwed if her plan ever goes into action.”
“So, old man, I’m trying to see the big picture as you see it. I’m seeing the decryption part and how it all fits into to decoding, broadly speaking, who the Gens are and knowing their deepest darkest secrets. But I’m not understanding the personnel like I do with everyone else. I know you must a good reason for these specific folks. Can you elaborate?”
“I can see why my choices might seem a little unfocused at the people level but more focused and understandable at the task level. So, let me explain. First, I should say that these folks would be difficult to assess in any circumstances because neither you nor me, or for that matter, anyone else on our team has any real idea what our colleagues do for a living. I know I don’t. Not really. They’re mathematicians and they work in cryptography. I can say it, but I don’t think I can explain it.”
“But you hired them. You must know more than you’re saying.”
“I wish I did. I chose them for specific reasons that would be easiest to explain all at once, if that were possible. But let me try to clarify it in this way.
“There are, broadly speaking, two kinds of encryption for us to understand, one or both of which the Gens may use. One type is the government type of encryption/decryption. That’s what Richard and Alvin do, although the most sophisticated stuff is the exclusive realm of Richard. To a lesser extent, that’s Tawney’s realm too. Alvin’s real value is his storehouse of knowledge of government encryption technology over the years; what it was and how it has changed. And to some extent, what it is now. Alvin can spot legacy technique quicker than any man alive. Alvin is hugely valuable to the Brits in analyzing, how should we say, competitive governments existing encryption technology. Less so for creating new tech for the Brits. That, again, is more a Richard responsibility.”
Edward paused, but Misti was just looking at him intently between bites of breakfast. For a wisp of a girl, she could sure pack it down, Edward thought. The girl has an appetite.
Bethy had put her paper down and was now listening carefully too. Apparently, Edward and Bethy hadn’t had this conversation yet either.
“The second kind of encryption technology, or systems, I should say, are really what Marcus does for a living. Code developed by organized crime, white collar criminals, rebel and terrorist organizations, home grown militias and hate groups. Simpler than the high-tech stuff developed by governments, but effective. These are not secret codes developed by mathematicians; they are codes developed
by someone in the groups themselves. Mostly not that hard to decrypt, though at times very challenging. Keeps stuff secret from each other and rivals but not government code breakers. Like Marcus. That’s where Adam fits in.”
“Adam? What has he got to do with any of this? I know he and Marcus are friends, but I thought that, that was all that was.”
“Nope. Adam did for Marcus and the FBI, and therefore for the CIA and NSA, what he did for me in archeology. He digitized everything we knew, reorganized it, and set about creating algorithms that do the work of top analysts ten, twenty, a hundred times faster. And could find connections faster and better than ever before. So, incredible knowledge transfer making the information and techniques available to other FBI cryptographers. Plus, quicker, smarter, and faster everything freeing up cryptographers to do important work, leaving the rote stuff to the computer.
“Your husband is a star; not in encryption/decryption, but in the world of computer analysis, and software application. Then he introduced Marcus to the DL Main; after that, the two grown men were giggling like schoolgirls with their new toys. Marcus and Adam are friends first, but they are also close collaborators too. Each has a man crush on the other.”
“And Tawney, the hater?”
“She isn’t a hater, she just thinks that Adam is trouble, and is intensely suspicious of his real motives. Doesn’t trust him. Not altogether unwarranted but she is, in this case, of course, wrong. Adam looks up to Marcus; Marcus admires and respects Adam. They speak each other’s language and they’re both deeply religious. Athena likes Adam because he seems so nice and she too is deeply religious. Tawney is just skeptical, that’s all. I don’t think she’s alone in that department. Plus, she thinks he’s an asshole, which, of course, he is.”
“There’s more?”
“A lot, if you want the bigger picture.”
“I do.”
Chapter 21
Probe Page 80
