by Saul Garnell
“This is one of our Freedom Club’s safe houses,” Shinzou said, gazing around. “It used to be a neutrino detector a long time ago, filled with tons of ultra-pure water and lined top to bottom with detectors.” He pointed to the far wall, which displayed a number of regularly spaced holes. “That’s what those sockets are. But this place was sealed up since the mine next door shut down operations.”
“But we got inside.”
Shinzou shrugged. “Abandoned mines are easily converted. Specific areas have been modified and left standing for contingencies, like today. The Freedom Club needs these sorts of facilities. It’s how we protect ourselves.”
“Okay, so that brings me to my other questions,” Sumeet said, taking a seat that creaked loudly from disuse. “The Freedom Club and your Sentient son, Henry David. The one you, uhm, illegally raised from infancy.”
Shinzou looked at the ceiling momentarily. “Illegal is perhaps not the right word, but that sums it up. Anyway, where would you like me to start? With Henry? Or with the Freedom Club?”
Sumeet blinked a few times. He hadn’t really thought which was more important. Confusion raged in his mind on so many levels. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like utter turmoil, a state that was becoming more frequent and, from his perspective, less appreciated.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Okay, tell me exactly what the Freedom Club is. You mentioned it earlier, but quite frankly the whole concept isn’t clear.”
Pulling over another antiquated chair, Shinzou sat down in front of Sumeet and got comfortable. He seemed a little nervous. Sumeet stared back, and wondered if Shinzou had ever explained this coherently to anyone from the outside.
“The Freedom Club?” Shinzou began. “Well, it was the name of a so-called terrorist group led by Theodore Kaczynski back in the late twentieth century. Though it’s not clear. He called it a group, but all evidence showed that he worked alone. So, really, it was just one man, I guess.”
“Sorry,” Sumeet said, waving his hands negatively. “You mean to say you’re part of a group that names itself after a terrorist who died over one hundred years ago?”
“Well, yes and no,” Shinzou said guardedly. “From my perspective, it’s something else really. Though what that something is is subject to individual interpretation,”
“There you go again,” Sumeet gibed. “You excel at confusing things!”
Shinzou gestured apologetically with both hands. “Yes, let me give you a bit more background, and perhaps things will become clear. Theodore Kaczynski was a terrorist who pleaded guilty and remained in prison until his death. But, as far as we know, Kaczynski didn’t have any accomplices. He implied that he was part of an organization called the Freedom Club. But its existence was never proven.”
“So? Maybe he just made it up,” Sumeet suggested, “to fool everyone.”
“Perhaps, but I have an alternate idea that is a bit unconventional. It has something to do with Temporal Group Association.”
“Temporal Group A...what’s that?” Sumeet asked, shaking his head dismally.
“A form of group dynamics that takes place across time,” Shinzou explained. “You see, people normally associate with groups based on similar characteristics like socioeconomic status or ideological beliefs. However, group dynamics are normally tethered to a particular timeframe. We like to associate with people who surround us in the present.”
“Who else would you associate with?” Sumeet asked dumbly.
“There arise situations where a person is unable to connect with his group. This became relatively rare after mass communication was invented, but the phenomenon still occurs. Especially when the locus of group formation is on one particular, perhaps unusual, ideological issue. Taboo subjects, for example. A person then may be forced to associate with people outside his or her timeframe.”
Sumeet looked on nonplussed. “I’m still not following you. Are you talking about time travel?”
Shinzou scratched his head and sat back. “Hmmm, no, let me try another example that may make more sense. Are you familiar with poetry?”
“Poetry?” Sumeet said, raising an eyebrow.
“Hear me out,” Shinzou said, putting his palms together in contemplation. “It’s similar because poetry is an interesting form of artistic expression that is resilient over time. Like a messenger of basic ideas, it can echo through time, reaching people in the future that the writer is unaware of. Are you familiar with this concept?”
“I think so,” Sumeet said cautiously. “But I’m not sure where you are going with this.”
Shinzou explained. “A poem is like a message in a bottle, but the writer only wants the reader to understand, and make a connection to the emotion and meaning behind the poem. One assumes there is always someone who can, or will, understand.”
“You could wait your whole life, or be dead by then.”
“What does that matter?”
Sumeet cocked his head. “Don’t you think it is important that the poet be understood by someone? Everyone who writes and makes their work public expects, or at least hopes, to be read at some point.”
“Sure, but that point in time does not necessarily have to be within the life of the writer,” Shinzou said, swiveling in his chair. “What’s important is to finally connect with someone. In this way, the poem transcends time.”
Sumeet sat thoughtfully and nodded to himself. “Is that your point, then? A form of temporal communication, and group formation, one that unites people over an unspecific period of time?”
“Exactly! And that’s sort of what the Freedom Club is. Not a group in the same time and place, but spanning a continuum. All aimed at the same goal.”
“Which is?”
“To free man from the enslavement of technology. The Freedom Club believes that civilization entraps man into a never-ending spiral of socio-economic servitude. Industrialization and technology play off each other to fuel commercialism, materialism, greed, and a host of other bad habits. That’s what we fight against.”
Sumeet chortled. “And this Kaczynski fellow, he was the first member?”
“No, I just use the name he cooked up. But even though he was a terrorist fighting technology, he does fit the profile. Freedom Club members aren’t identified by their rank in society, just by ideology. Normally it’s published somehow. Written works like poetry, books, manifestos. Any document made public for the most part. We can also judge their actions – civil disobedience for example. Thoreau is a member by my reckoning too. Walden is exactly the kind of book that puts you in the club.”
Sumeet became agitated and began to pace around. “This is crazy! You can’t make a club when members don’t even know they’re members? That’s senseless! And they can’t even communicate with each other.”
Shinzou shook his head and sighed. “Once again, it’s like poetry, Sumeet. They know about each other through writing. Take Karl Marx, for instance. He wrote the Communist Manifesto and Das Kapital. He was an economist and believed in workers’ rights and freedom from unregulated industrialization. For the most part, he was fairly unknown during his life, but immensely important in later years.”
“Didn’t he go to Russia and start a revolution? Killed millions of people!” Sumeet spurted angrily.
“You’re thinking of Vladamir Lenin and Stalin, decades after Marx died. But it’s a good point. A big problem with any ideology is its misuse by others as a rationalization to kill.”
Sumeet looked puzzled and shook his head. “But that’s not always the case.”
“True,” Shinzou said. “You should be familiar with Gandhi. He looked at the works of Thoreau and based his campaign of nonviolent protest on a piece entitled Civil Disobedience.”
Sumeet thought to himself for a moment. “So, how many members are there in this Freedom club of yours?”
“Unknown,” Shinzou said with a big smile. “Henry and I spend lots of time arguing over them. And some members stand ou
t more than others. Byron, Marx, Ginsberg, Thoreau, Kaczynski, Ellul, and even William Blake if you read into his poetry a bit.
“Ellul?” Sumeet said, looking askance. “Where did I hear that name before?”
“Another philosopher who’s a prominent Freedom Club member,” Shinzou explained. “He wrote a book called, The Technological Society. There he made the point that technology always moves forward, no matter how hard you try to suppress it, ignore it, destroy it. It’s always going to win out in the end.”
“But then what’s the point fighting it?” Sumeet objected sardonically. “And I’m not sure this Freedom Club of yours, or whatever you call it, would really include Thoreau, or a terrorist like Kaczynski. Weren’t they too far apart ideologically?”
“Members don’t sign any charter,” Shinzou explained. “And the ideology is only about man’s enslavement to progress. How you deal with it is something else entirely. Violence becomes an issue based on local moralities and ethics. Which, as Sartre pointed out, are quite fluid, by the way.”
Sumeet snorted. “How convenient. And maybe you can tell me where you stand? You admitted that you work with the ASPAU. They must use violence, don’t they.”
Shinzou shook his head. “I’m an analytical consultant with SWCISA. It’s part of law enforcement, but I don’t do official field work for them. Anyway you’re missing the point. All that’s not related to the Freedom Club.”
Sumeet looked on, unconvinced.
Shinzou said, “My Freedom Club work takes the form of clandestine nonviolent Lebensstörung. Not intended to harm anyone, but focused on technological system disruption. The commerce system, for example.”
“Lebensstörung?” Sumeet croaked. “You mean, like all these recent LS attacks?”
“Yes. All my handiwork, I’m afraid.”
“What? All of them?”
“Well, most of them, I think.”
Sumeet froze in his chair. The implications were simple to understand. Any association with LS made him a terrorist by association. What had he gotten himself into? Unsure how to proceed, he considered what could happen. What if he was caught? His whole life would be ruined. Forget worrying about the job at Chindo. That was trivial in comparison.
“You’re upset, aren’t you?” Shinzou said.
“Oh, no,” Sumeet stammered slowly. “But...I didn’t expect.....”
Shinzou pleaded. “You need to understand. We’re trying to save society.”
Sumeet looked away. “And what about the airport? Did you cause all that?”
Shinzou looked embarrassed. “Well, yes, that too. Believe it or not, it was my attempt to get you to fly over and visit.”
He had taken down Narita too? Things got worse by the minute! Sumeet glared back in shock, unable to believe what he was hearing. Maybe it was all an elaborate hoax. Yes, that would explain it. But then Sumeet remembered Kamiyoshi, and the horrible death scene. No, it was no hoax. Sumeet took a few deep breaths and let it all sink in.
Shinzou said, “I’m not violent, if that’s worrying you.”
“Not every court would agree,” Sumeet cynically replied.
Shinzou took the punch with a wry smile. “Civil disobedience often pits itself against the government. Many great men have spent time in jail. It’s a form of vigilantism, called for because there’s no other means to deal with the problem.”
“For God’s sakes! Why not just have a demonstration? Wouldn’t that be easier?”
“Not effective,” Shinzou snapped dryly. “Though I like to sit around and philosophize like Thoreau and Marx, I’m also a practitioner. You could say I’m more in the middle, employing actions that hurt the system and hopefully start a revolution. It can happen if you keep the pressure up.”
“Pressure?”
“That’s our goal, really. Create disruptions in the system, keep people uncomfortable and allow them to see the true nature of their endemic problems. Like the payment-processing systems. The chaos that ensues teaches people how materialistic they’ve become. Weans them off of shopping.”
Sumeet threw his arms up in frustration. “But you work with law enforcement? How can you do that and still commit LS?”
“Be sensible,” Shinzou pleaded. “The world is different than it was one hundred years ago. How do you think it’s possible otherwise? Modern-day integrated systems make everything fully transparent. Eating, sleeping, shopping, even taking a crap in the public toilet is monitored. The only way to effect change within the system is to become part of it.”
Sumeet screwed up his eyes. “But I’m no insider. Why are you telling me all this?”
Shinzou scratched his head. “Well, to recruit you, actually.”
“Recruit me?”
“Our backgrounds are similar, believe it or not. I would enjoy your help, and I think it’s a great opportunity for you. Think about it! You’d finally have a choice in your life. You don’t have to enslave yourself.”
“I’m not enslaving myself!” Sumeet protested angrily.
Shinzou laughed. “No? Consider the work you do in Bengaluru. Didn’t you tell me how small and insignificant you are at Chindo Securities?”
“That isn’t true always,” Sumeet said harshly. “I had some ability to make decisions.”
“Really?” Shinzou said suspiciously. “And after all that empowerment and hard work, how did it all work out? Didn’t you just get fired? Look, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings. I’m just trying to make you realize the true nature of our civilized world. Give you options to choose a life that offers more fulfillment than many people will ever know.”
Sumeet looked back silently. The offer seemed sincere, but it was also totally unexpected. Become part of the Freedom Club? Preposterous really, and it included risks. Sumeet never had to consider such a request. And though his mind told him to say no, there was a nagging feeling within him, something that restrained him from answering.
“I don’t want to put pressure on you, so there’s no need to decide now,” Shinzou said, standing up and going over to a workstation. “We need to switch gears to more important things!”
“Like what?”
Shinzou hacked at the terminal, looking every few moments at the flexi wall. “We need to locate Shiro. It’s imperative that we contact him and offer our help.”
“How are we going to do that? We barely know anything about his whereabouts.”
“True enough,” Shinzou said, looking blankly at the flexi screen. “But we have some clues that Kamiyoshi left before his suicide. Maybe we can track him down. But we can’t do it without Henry’s help.”
Sumeet paused and stood back. “Your son?”
Shinzou grinned as the flexi wall began to brighten. He then swiveled in his chair and playfully slapped his kneecaps. “My son and companion. We’ve been together for so many years now. When this flexi wall’s back on line, we can conference him into this safe house location via Quantum. Give me a minute...”
The far wall’s flexi booted up and soon displayed standard communication menus. It wasn’t long before a call was made and Henry David came into view. His bushy neck-beard and large nose constructed an interesting visage, one uncommon in the glitzy world of avatars. Sumeet approached the wall with Shinzou so that introductions could be made.
“Henry? This is Sumeet,” Shinzou said, gesturing with one hand. “Sumeet? Let me introduce Henry David.”
Henry’s voice filled the room, dignified and full of vigor. “Hello, we have been talking about you for quite some time. It’s very nice to finally make your acquaintance.”
Sumeet remained silent. Sentient meetings were part of his corporate experience, but this was a little different. It seemed more personal, quite absurd in some respects.
Sumeet gulped. “Yes, it’s...nice to make your acquaintance. Uhm...Henry David, is it?”
“Just call me Henry. My Freedom Club avatar’s namesake, you understand.” Henry eyed Shinzou with one raised eyebrow. “He does under
stand, I presume?”
Shinzou said, “We were just having a long chat about the Freedom Club, if that’s what you mean.”
“Excellent,” Henry boomed. “So, young man, have you decided to join our illustrious club?”
Sumeet looked at Shinzou, unsure how to proceed. All the Sentients he had ever encountered were only interested in narrow business topics. Only Ivan ever strayed into other areas, and that was only because doing so was considered part of the team-building process.
“Well, I haven’t quite made up my mind yet,” Sumeet admitted humbly. “With all the excitement today, I’ve had little time to think about it.”
“Excitement?” Henry asked.
Shinzou stepped forward. “Sumeet’s being polite. It’s really a euphemism for a dangerous situation. Sorry, there wasn’t time to make you a report.”
“What are you talking about?” Henry demanded.
“We had a pretty rough day,” Shinzou said, shaking his head. “Let me tell you everything. Actually, you’re going to find this hard to believe.”
Shinzou then recounted to Henry what happened during their tragic visit with Dr. Kamiyoshi. How Gupta had provided Shinzou with the name of Po’pay, the only survivor of three Sentients who were reared religiously, and their tragic end when the project was halted sixteen years ago.
The whole while Henry looked on contently. Every now and then his eyebrows popped up, divulging utter surprise. And he guffawed in total dismay as Shinzou somberly explained how Kamiyoshi committed suicide using the same weapon that he used to threaten them.
Once Shinzou had finished, Henry immediately looked at Sumeet. “This is outrageous. You must have been scared senseless. Are you all right?”
Sumeet found Henry’s concern startling. “Well, thank you for asking, Henry, but I’m fine. I mean, considering what could have happened.”
“I should say,” Henry said, nodding. “During all my years with Shinzou, I’ve never encountered anything like this. And I do hope you don’t look upon us negatively. The Freedom Club, at the least the chapter we run, is based on the principles of nonviolence.”
Sumeet said, “Yes, Shinzou had explained that earlier.”
