The Remaking

by J. T. O'Connell

  After drying off, she dressed into shorts and a t-shirt. The apartment was no longer stifling, although it would probably feel so if she tried to smother herself under blankets again. Instead, she sliced a pear in half and sat down at the kitchen table to eat.

  Sela's mind was working again, prying and prodding everything that had happened since she had met Desmond Tine. Her headache had soothed away during the shower, and now it was returning with all the thoughts she didn't want to have.

  Heaving a sigh, she took the plate and put the second half of the pear in the refrigerator, taking one last bite off the half in her hand. She threw the core away and tried to distract her mind by cleaning.

  The apartment had been somewhat neglected over the previous days. Sela had spent all of her time preparing for the job at Basil Davenport's, and now there was a small stack of dishes in the sink, the clothes hamper was full, and the coffee table was cluttered.

  One of the dishes had some remnant of a reheated meal on it, practically cemented to the surface. She scrubbed with a scouring pad and dish soap until the fossilized chunk of noodle softened and came loose. The rest of the dishes were an easy task, soon stacked back in the proper cupboard. She wiped down the sink and the counter, and also the table just for good measure.

  Sela cleaned off the coffee table, finding the proper home for every item and throwing away a paper wrapper for a dark chocolate bar she had worked on for a month or so.

  She ran a vacuum over the carpets throughout the apartment. It didn't pick up much dust. Her air purifier was top-notch. Air purifiers were rife on the black market. Everyone used them to try to keep the nano-particle count down in their homes. It made things that much harder for the nano-swarms to form and snoop on your conversations.

  Sela rinsed the filter for the purifier, as she did once a week. It had faded over the year she'd owned the purifier, though it still looked reasonably new.

  Next, she had clothes that needed to be washed. The nearest washing room was two floors above, and it handled a dozen floors. At this time of day, on a weekend, the machines were probably all tied up. It would be noisy and busy, and Sela didn't want to be around anyone right now.

  Grabbing her tablet, she sat down on the couch and browsed to see if SovereignCast was playing.

  It was.

  Gideon Blaize.

  His warm and handsome face was on one side; young, strong, confident, and generous. On the other was a man easily a decade older than Gideon, and Desmond too for the matter.

  No!

  The stern word came to Sela's mind instantly. Forget about him, right now. She would focus on the SovereignCast and Gideon Blaize.

  As the program began, Gideon spoke to the camera. "Today, Megora, we have the distinct honor of speaking to a man who has spent his entire life fighting for the right cause." They men sat at a table of dark, reddish-stained wood, and the rest of the room was pitch black. Gideon had a few pages in front of himself on the tabletop.

  He paused and then began a list, "Eric Foster joined the United States Army during the war in Iraq, served four tours as a second and first lieutenant and a captain, and then was promoted to major and given a position as a counter-insurgency trainer."

  Gideon looked away from the camera toward Eric and said, "You wrote half a dozen studies on insurgency and counter-insurgency, both modern and historical, you were on a design team, as I understand it—"

  "That's right," Eric nodded. He was in a military uniform, tan camo with a name patch and rank insignia. The uniform looked worn and rugged, scuffed in many places, patched in others. His face was roughened, hard-weathered, though he kept his hair shaved short and his face shaved clean.

  "Designing… Designing what?" Gideon asked, leaning forward in his seat for the answer.

  "We designed anything we needed to solve intractable problems in combat. We engineered breach-makers and—"

  "Breach-makers, like something to blast through a door?" Gideon asked.

  The soldier nodded, "Or through a wall or a floor, any barrier really. The key was to gain access quickly with a minimal amount of additional damage done, while also keeping the equipment light and small, since we'd carry it on our backs."

  "What else?" Gideon asked, his perfect smile boasting of fascination.

  "Uh, we got some help to make jamming systems to keep the enemy from using drones, or even radios sometimes. We redesigned everything a stealth operator might wear; from the types of material in the soles of his shoes, to the placement of the stitching on his gloves" Eric adjusted his seat, keeping his shoulders and back rigid.

  "And actually, a fair portion of our designs were adopted by the special operations community before the Remaking began."

  Gideon spoke up again, "Okay, so you were in country when the Remaking got under way."

  No one ever talked about when the Remaking began. No one really knew when exactly the Provisional Council had first been formed.

  "That's right," Eric acknowledged with a professional nod. "I was at the Pentagon when I got a call from my wife. We lived in Georgia at the time."

  "And what did she say?" Gideon's question had Sela on pins and needles. She had no idea how he was so good at that.

  "That a letter had arrived; we were being relocated to Atlantis, which was the supercity under construction in Atlanta."

  Gideon tilted his head, his eyebrows showing confusion, "Did you live on base where you were?"

  "We lived just outside of Macon, and my station was at Fort Benning, which was a bit of a drive. So I thought she meant I was being transferred, but it was the Council trying to resettle my family and me into Atlantis, which would have made the drive a lot longer."

  "What did you do?" No doubt Gideon had heard hundreds of these stories. And yet, genuine concern shone through his voice.

  "Well, I was stuck at the Pentagon, so I said we'd figure it out when I got back home." His voice splintered for just a second, showing the pain of memory beneath, "And by the time I did, the Guides had already come and taken my wife and daughter away."

  "Mmmm," Gideon sighed. "And this was early on in the Remaking?"

  "Yessir," the response seemed to come out of an earlier time, from days when the soldier had been happy, days that he missed. "I tried to get them released from Atlantis, but the Army couldn't do anything, because of how much power Congress had turned over to the Remaking."

  "Have you seen them, or spoken to them?"

  "Only a few times those first months, over Kui, the first-gen version."

  Gideon leaned back and looked upward, scrunching his face as if he didn't want to dig these words out. "Why… Why didn't you go to Atlantis and join them?"

  A will of granite hardened in Eric's face as he gazed back at Gideon. He lifted his hands onto the table, folding them, and spoke quietly, "Because my duty is to my country. I was opposed to everything that Congress had been doing to take away personal freedom in the United States. I gave up some of my freedom to help defend it for everyone else. I swore to defend the Constitution, and here these bureaucrats are harassing everyone to death and Congress is doling out power to third party organizations like the Provisional Council. Then the Council shepherded free Americans into prison-cities. It's just… plain wrong to treat people this way." He tapped his folded hands against the table, "I knew that if I succumbed to the Remaking, I would never be able to fight back against it."

  Silence reigned for a few moments. Then Gideon asked, "What did you do instead?"

  "Well, I saw that the Council was taking over military command, as well. Fort Benning was reorganizing under these bureaucrats who'd never even had military training. So me and a bunch of other soldiers who felt the same way, smuggled material and equipment out for a while. We built up stockpiles around that area of the country, put together some safe-houses. And then we went AWOL, started fighting Guide units wherever we could."

  "At this time, what was going on?"

  "Oh, all of those storms were raging a
ll over the place, and wherever they weren't, the Guides were rounding people up and carting them off to whatever supercity was nearest."

  "And you fought against those rounding people up."

  "Yeah, we did that for a number of years, and actually helped build some of the hidden villages that still exist. Some of the younger people joined our effort and we had a pretty good guerilla war going on."

  Eric took a deep breath and sighed, "But at some point, just about all of the population had gone into these cities, except for those deep in hiding. Nowadays, we get into short battles with the Guides, or even the PC military, and try to cost the Remaking as much of its time and effort as possible."

  "Have you considered going on the offensive?"

  "Strictly speaking," Eric unfolded his hands and placed them on the table, "guerilla action usually puts the enemy on the defensive. But if you're asking whether we've considered attacking the Council in the supercities, the answer is of course."

  Gideon smiled and shrugged his shoulders, "And what have you decided?"

  Eric took a deep breath and thought about his answer before starting, "Well, there are a lot of considerations involved in something like that; how do you get a guerilla network in place within the city, how do you gain access to these incredibly-secluded areas, and so forth."

  He paused and nodded toward the camera, "And given the scope of the audience, it was perhaps wise to merely… indicate… that we are not ignoring any possible route of assault against the Council."

  "We shouldn't reveal that on this program then," Gideon smiled and nodded in agreement.

  "Information control is the first rule of warfare," Eric replied.

  "What was it Churchill said?" Gideon asked. "The truth is so important, it must be surrounded by a bodyguard of lies?"

  "Yes, and he also said that a lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has time to put its pants on." Eric kept his face calm and even, his voice reserved. "The Council took advantage of lies in that way, and we, who love freedom, will take advantage of them in the first way."

  "Which actually brings up another question," Gideon said, sitting up. He now looked a little taller than the soldier. "What are you doing in Sovereign City?"

  "Sovereign City is a great town," Eric began. Gideon nodded in agreement, "You've got a real, vibrant economy here, and you retain most of the old American liberties that were so important and were robbed away.

  "A month ago, my unit engaged a strike team of Guides. They had been sent in to attack an underground village. We'd intercepted some careless transmissions and set up an ambush. They didn't last very long in battle, but they managed to call for air support.

  "About twenty minutes into the fight, a helodrone attacked from the air. Someone managed to get a good hit on it with a rocket and brought it down, but it came down too close."

  Eric grimaced at the memory, "I took a good bit of shrapnel in my side." He indicated a portion of his rib cage on the left side of his body. "And it was just too much for the medics to handle. We were a few hours' flight time from Sovereign City, so someone called to ask for a lift."

  "And you've been recovering since then," Gideon said.

  "Yeah, and I have to say, your hospitals here are just amazing. They really are."

  Gideon smiled, "We do the best we can. We're only one city, you know."

  "But a great city," Eric replied. "This is a really great city, especially compared to the villages and such, the people that have to hide underground, or in rough terrain, and places like that."

  Sela wished more than ever that she could live in Sovereign City. She wanted to meet Gideon Blaize. She blushed in spite of herself.

  "What happened to the people you were protecting?" he asked.

  "My unit got them moved after I was evacced."

  "So they are safe, somewhere hidden away," Gideon said.

  "That's right, or they're at least as safe as possible."

  "Why don't they come here? Why not join Sovereign City? People live normal lives here, and we keep the Council at bay."

  Eric answered, thinking out loud, "I don't know. I think… maybe there's some concern that Sovereign City is such a big target in this war, perhaps. Maybe if the Council manages to pull enough resources away from other parts of the world, then they'd take down Sovereign City as soon as possible."

  Gideon frowned at the words, but Eric went on, "And there's also a fear of big cities now. Some of those who are part of these nomadic groups, they lived through some really awful times in big cities and barely managed to escape into the countryside. Some of them just plain don't want to be near tall buildings anymore."

  Eric leaned forward and held up his hands, "I will say this: you guys really do have a unique approach for opposing the Provisional Council. SovereignCast is a great program, and I hope you manage to push it into the cities often.

  "And your city defense system is… a little astonishing, to be honest. Even after being here this long, I still can hardly believe it."

  Gideon beamed, "Yes, we've got quite a team of engineers and military personnel making sure we're safe. Our army rarely has to fight actual battles, and when they do, they overwhelm the enemy."

  "Yeah, that's the one benefit to the direction the Remaking has moved. Most of the local Guide forces are poorly trained and afraid of combat. We've seen a few more-advanced units out there, but most of the time, we have the upper hand."

  "So, Major Foster, what are your plans going forward?"

  Eric licked his lips and said, "I would like to get back with my unit as soon as possible. The doctors are saying another month of physical therapy, but I'm making good progress, and I hope to shave as much time off as possible. I really…" Sela could see the pained longing in the soldier's face, "I need to be out there with my guys. I need to make a difference."

  "You wouldn't consider settling down here? Maybe helping us in our efforts to counter the Remaking?" Gideon asked.

  "Not so long as there is a single Council supercity in America. Maybe once we win this thing." His answer was hardened with a military edge, every word cut and chiseled out in confidence.

  "To that end then, I hope we soon fly," Gideon spoke gently. "I have one more question, Major." He hesitated and chose his words carefully, "When we asked if you would want to do this interview… frankly, I expected you would turn us down flat. Aren't you worried about…?"

  Eric finished the thought for Gideon, "Am I worried that the Council might harm my family?"

  Gideon swallowed, eyebrows curved into empathy. He nodded.

  "Yes, of course. The Remaking has already harmed my family. It made me choose between my children and my nation. It made me choose between the love of my life and my beliefs.

  "But my wife was proud of my standing up against what the Council was doing. I hope she understands why I do what I do, and I hope my kids don't buy into the propaganda. They're old enough to understand now too."

  Eric puckered his mouth to one side in a sneer of thought. "Am I worried the Council will do something to them, because I'm doing this interview? Yeah, who wouldn't be?"

  Then he spoke what sounded like a speech to his troops, inspiring them to push on after a tough trial. "But I am not fighting just for them. I want everyone to know that they hold the remnants of America within themselves! The stars and stripes are tattooed onto people's hearts, even though we're not allowed to fly the flag.

  "We fight for justice, and virtue, and the truth, and we fight for liberty, and goodness. We don't fight only for ourselves, but in honor of everyone who fought for the right thing throughout history. We fight to give to our children what our fathers gave to us.

  "It's bigger than each of us, and more important than our own, individual survival." Fire blazed in Eric's eyes. Gideon listened, enamored.

  "So long as we value personal safety over principles and liberty, the Council will hold all of us hostage!" Eric shook his head, his mouth stretched tight. "I will not be control
led that way. I will fight."

  "I will fight," he said again.

  Gideon nodded. "Well, our hearts go with you Major. We wish you a speedy recovery and success in whatever ventures you pursue hereafter."

  He turned to the camera, "Good luck, out there, all of you silent warriors. If you can't get to Sovereign City, find a way to make a difference where you are. Take a stand and fight." Gideon smiled and the image faded.

  The next program began, a rerun Sela had seen at least four times. She was hardly listening though. Even Gideon's eyes couldn't distract her from what the major had said.

  Was her situation so different from his? Yes, of course it is! her mind scolded.

  The major's wife couldn't be used to make the major go to war with Sovereign City.

  If caught, Sela would be held hostage against her father, forcing him to work for the Remaking. Obviously, the situations were different.

  And yet, it gnawed at her, forced her to temper her anger at the Vines. They were trying to overthrow the Council. They were trying to help people be self-reliant, become independent of the Remaking, even if the Council encouraged absolute dependence on their power.

  But the Vines wanted to use her. Use her! They wanted to… to… infiltrate the Guides. That might be it, she thought. Even with years of work, how many high-ranking Guides could the Vines have? They may have an agent or two, but Leon could grant them access to some of the higher echelons, or so they thought.

  Sela knew that would never work. Leon was family only in the strict biological sense. He would turn her in just like any other Guide would. She would end up in a cell somewhere in the belly of the Detention Center, perhaps deep underground, where she could be kept alive and used as a token.

  How in the world did they find out who she actually was? Her pre-paid ghost time as Sela Mason was the best that could be had. Ghost time the same as everyone in the Tower of Hope bought. Including Council members who wished to hide their activity from the scrutiny of their associates.

  How did the Vines find her?

  In one sense, it didn't matter. Since they hid the truth from her about their intentions, every single thing they might say from now on had to be dissected and analyzed to calculate whether it was likely to be true.