by Drew Avera
Thom knelt beside me and put his hand on my forehead. "I think you may have a fever," he said. That was possible I supposed.
I wiped the sweat from my face and went to stand up. My throat was dry and I was light headed. I moved slowly into the other room and Kara walked behind me warily with Thom following. The media device had been switched on and the holographic image depicted a growing mob in the square. Their shouts sounded like a roar. That must have been what I heard in my dream. They were setting fire to different buildings and vehicles, causing damage to everything as they protested. The headline along the bottom of the image alerted viewers to the lottery that White had mentioned to me the night before. I had not missed his speech, but what I witnessed now was the precursor to what was coming. Fire burned across the image on the wall.
The lottery would only save twenty five percent of humanity. The rest would die! Population was controlled by the Syndicate, just like everything else. I had to take down the Syndicate. More fire erupted in the square and people were trampled by the mob. The image moved on to Pontiff White standing stoically by his window looking down on the crowd below. He looked unmoved by the commotion and violence below. There was something behind him. I looked at the image and studied it harder. I made out the image of another suited man, the puppeteer, the handler, a member of the Syndicate.
Chapter 10
I watched the image illuminating off the wall from Thom's media device. The mob in the square had grown larger as the initial winners of the lottery were about to be named. Pontiff White was now standing stoically, high upon a platform in the middle of the square protected by a clear acrylic booth. His voice was amplified through a speaker system that circled around the square and the transmission was picked up by the media crew and sent out to the general population. He stood tall amongst the citizens, dressed in a dark burgundy double breasted suit. His light brown hair was slicked back with tufts of gray that appeared on his temples. He looked like a modern day king, royalty who graced the peasants of the land with his presence, he was a king leading the blind to their deaths.
The amplifiers squealed as the microphone was switched on. The speakers were turned up so loud that you could hear each exhale of his breath. I could see the people in the square press their hands up to their ears until the squelching sound subsided. Pontiff White never even flinched, instead he just looked out over the crowd with his jaw set, unmoving like a statue.
The crowd soon erupted into another outraged boycott of the Syndicate's pending lottery. Shouts resounded through the square, even on screen I could see how the sound shook the windows in the nearby buildings as Pontiff White stood quiet. His resolve was unshaken by the mob, but I could see as he clinched the podium with white knuckled hands, the only visible sign of the distress that he was going through. It took several moments for the crowd to die down enough for his words to be heard. A hush was carried through the square that could be heard by viewers world wide. The same hush quieted even the rambling thoughts in my own head.
"Attention, citizens," he said in a booming amplified voice. "It is with great solemnity that I come to you today to report that which you citizens have come together to protest, and to verify the fact that a lottery is indeed in place. The winners chosen are to be transported back to Earth. You may be wondering why this is necessary, and I wish to answer that question to the best of my ability. Recently it has come to the attention of the Syndicate that our artificial electro-magnetic field is in danger of failing. It is not just a possibility, but the danger is imminent. It's rate of decline is the result of the nuclear power generator that powers it. We do not have a supply of enriched uranium on hand to maintain the generator and that puts our planet at risk. What short supply we do have has already been used to power the generator, but sadly it is being used up too quickly. The core is used up at a much higher rate than it was originally designed to do.
"The Syndicate and I are dedicated to preserving humanity by any means necessary. The lottery will be used to dictate the order in which all people will be transferred back to planet Earth. It is in your best interest to be patient with us as methods are put in place to ensure the survival of everyone. The early results of the lottery will be released after this speech and the transports back to Earth will be underway by the end of the week. I ask that everyone remain patient so that this exodus can occur as seamless as possible. Your cooperation in this matter is critical.
"I know that many of you are concerned with the quality of life that you will inherit once you return to Earth. I share that concern with you. It is true that none of us have personally seen the conditions in which we are returning, but based on the previous expedition to Earth many years ago, it is clear that we will not be the only humans on the planet. It is also apparent that Earth has experienced many hardships over the past several centuries, they have suffered much more so than we have here on Mars and that will effect our quality of living on a considerable level. The natural resources of Earth have grown scarce and I believe that the humans of Earth will benefit greatly from our advanced technological resources. We will all experience a hard adjustment period, but all is not lost. This will be both an exodus and a reunion of sorts. It is important that we depart from our home with an attitude of unity, that communion between us and our brothers and sisters of Earth will make the biggest impact in the life that we will experience in the near future.
"I just want to remind you that the lottery results for tonight are only the initial list. Many more names will follow in the days, weeks, and months ahead. I encourage each of you to remain calm and allow the Syndicate to care for your needs as it always has. Thank you for your time and good night."
Pontiff White's words seemed to be a comfort to the crowd in the square. Perhaps because they were not privy to the information that I was. They did not know that only a fraction of the people on Mars would be returned to Earth. Their ignorance would be a welcomed relief that they did not know existed. For the rest of humanity, all hope was lost. Those left behind would die and the Syndicate did not care. This lottery dictated who would live and who would die. It was a form of population control that had never been experienced in our Martian history.
The image of the Pontiff was replaced by a scrolling list of names. There were thousands of names that repeated every ten minutes or so. Each name on the list correlated with a corporate leader. Big money bought them a position onto the transports heading back to Earth. They were the elite, bred to rule and to live on despite who died in their stead. It figured, why save the people who have nothing to lose? Why should you care about another human life that did not immediately affect your own life. I watched the names scroll for over an hour. I could feel my heart fill with anger as my resolve to bring the Syndicate down was strengthened by this total disregard for human life. Alliance or not, I would see vindication for those who would be lost. It did not matter whether I killed one or all of the members of the Syndicate. Retribution would be made, I swore to myself.
Kara watched the image and I could see the expression of dread swell upon her face by not seeing her name on the list. The reality of having a hit on her head did not seem to bother her near as much as the realization that she would be left to inherit what ever death was surely around the horizon. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it, trying to offer whatever comfort she might find by the gesture.
"There is something you need to know about the lottery," I said aloud. Thom and Kara both looked at me. "It is rigged. When I went and spoke with Pontiff White he told me the Syndicates plan for returning to Earth. Only twenty or thirty percent of the people on this planet will be transported back. The rest will die when our atmosphere dies, however long that takes after the magnetic field collapses. This lottery is just a ploy that will allow them to save themselves while they quiet the mob that’s brewing."
"They will just leave a majority of its citizens to die?" Thom asked with exasperation.
"Yes they will," I said coldly. "They will only sa
ve those whom they have something to gain by saving. Most of us have nothing to offer them. The Syndicate will first seek self preservation and then they will save people based on what will be most beneficial for them as they build a new society." Those words sounded monstrous. How could a person or group of people not value human life more than that?
The reality of our dire situation was making me nauseous. My emotions were on edge, from the stress of my nightmare and the anxiety associated with the false hope that was deified behind the lottery. I could feel a new emotion begin to well up deep within my body. It was an emotion that had been severed during my programming as I underwent training with the Agency. The most motivating emotion in any man's arsenal. That one emotion that draws the most motivation out of a man who was hell bent for his cause, an emotion that spews forth like a volcano erupting fire and raining death upon his enemies. That emotion that felt like a pain that was both dreadful and satisfying. That emotion was hate, and it was growing.
Chapter 11
I was in the middle of the street that ran along the coast of the Archean Sea. I could not remember how I had gotten here and I didn’t remember leaving Thom and Kara in the apartment. I also had no idea how long I had been away, but I enjoyed the feeling of the wind blowing across my face. I could feel a storm brewing in more ways than one. The dark sky reflected in red hues out across the water. It was a sight I had loved in my youth when I came here with my father and Kara. Those memories seemed like a lifetime ago, that little boy seemed like a completely different person altogether. I shoved my hands into my waist pockets to warm them up a bit. The cold current of the sea added a chill to the air that surrounded me. It felt nice, but it did nothing to the burning sensation I felt as hate coursed through my veins.
I turned in a slow circle and took in my environment. Even after all the years since I had been here last everything still looked as it did before. A single, tall building towered over the rest of the shorter buildings in the area. The building was owned by a man named Stern Harling, he was a former business partner of my father. Stern and I were connected now in ways that words could not express. It was Stern who had initiated the hit on my father, the hit that had ripped a father from his children so soon after an illness had taken their mother as well. I also had heard that it was he who had suggested my recruitment into the Agency only a week after the news of my engagement with Laurel had been announced, once again stripping me of the life that I desired in order to be happy. Harling and I were connected alright, but I felt that I was the only one who could see the link. A link that I now planned to sever permanently.
I stood with my back facing the water and felt the wind beat across my back, whipping the bottom of my jacket around wildly. I could feel a chill mist from the waves fall upon my face and neck, cooling my skin, but still the hate was warm as it coursed through my body. My programming should have been lighting off neural blockers to kill the spikes in my thought processes that enabled this emotionally responsive behavior. I could barely register that my programming still existed except for a slight nudge or impulse to settle down from time to time. I didn’t know if I had finally learned to ignore it, or if the programming was dying all together. Either way I was satisfied with what I was feeling now. Emotions made me feel alive which was more than Stern Harling would be feeling soon, very soon.
It was a short walk to the Harling Building, but I took my time and reveled in the decision I had made for myself. I walked with a purpose that I wanted to savor for as long as possible. I stood a mere forty yards from the entrance to the Harling Building. I breathed as slowly as possible as I waited. At any moment he would emerge from his office, leaving work for the day, confident in what he had gained at the expense of others. Part of those achievements were responsible for the countless deaths that helped to fuel the economy, another was his selection by the lottery to be returned to Earth and continue business as usual. The same business that had my father killed.
The streets were nearly empty while I waited. Only a few vehicles drove passed in those final minutes that I waited. Their headlights cut through the darkness in a wash of bright illumination that left me momentarily blinded. After the fourth vehicle passed and my vision cleared I was able to see Stern exit his office building. He was alone, too confident in his status as part of the elite to be escorted by guards. It was perfect, his death would be carried out uninterrupted.
Harling walked towards me as I stood in the shadows. His footsteps were heavy against the pavement. He was dressed in an expensive suit with an unusual tailored cut. It was a light gray color with light vertical lines evenly spaced around it. His head was balding on top but the hair he had left was dark and created a horseshoe shape around his head. Harling was a large powerfully built man despite his age and the years had not worn him down like they had to most people in his position.
He stepped into the same shadow I had been lurking in before I spoke and alerted him to my presence. "Harling," I said. "It's been a long time."
He paused abruptly and began to step back. "Who is it?" He asked with a slight tremble in his voice. Regardless of his power he was not an intimidating man. In fact he struck me as more fearful of others than anything else. He had a reputation of always playing by the rules with the Syndicate. As my fathers business partner he had blown the whistle when my father went astray from their dubious plans. I would like to believe that my father had been doing the right thing, but those thought were not comforting. Harling had a list of people he had killed through assignments with the Agency. His hands may be clean of blood, but his soul was black with the deaths of many, and that count would only rise in the months ahead unless I stopped him.
"Your not a very good man are you, Stern?" I asked in a deep voice. I watched him cower back in fear. "You and the other members of the Syndicate are responsible for the deaths of thousands. What makes you think I believe your lottery will save everyone else?" I knew the truth about the lottery, but I wanted to hear him lie to me, I wanted to hear him say something to justify the end that I so wanted him to experience.
"The lottery is legitimate!" He cried. "It's the only way we can transport everyone. We can't haul everyone off this planet at once, but we can if the transports leave in waves. That's why we are doing the lottery." He was almost frantic as he spoke.
"Lies!" I growled. "You and the Syndicate will survive and leave the rest of us to die!" I stepped out of the shadow and struck him across the face. He fell back and his eyes widened as he realized who I was. "You will kill others like you killed my father!"
"No!" He shouted. "It's not like that. I swear! There just isn't any other way." I could see his eyes well up. A coward hidden in wolves clothing.
"You lie," I said as I struck him again. He fell over into the street and I followed him as he stammered backwards on his hands. "You lie to my face?" I hit him again and again. He cried and squirmed with each blow I delivered to his face. "Tell me the truth!"
"It's true!" He shouted. “I’m telling you the truth!”
I punched him in the face again before arming my gauntlet. The blue sight illuminated his bloody face in the darkness. Fear was his only companion now. I aimed the sight at his forehead and held it there. The low dialed laser beam was reflecting off of his head and I could smell his flesh begin the burn.
"No, please stop, please!" He cried again. I kept the laser in the same spot, it was still burning. "Alright, I admit it! It's all a lie," he swore. It wasn't enough.
"Tell me more," I said while I kept the laser on his forehead.
"The Syndicate is using the lottery to preserve transports for the rich. If we can send the transports back after we are all safe then we will, but no one on the board is hopeful of that outcome. With the lottery at least people will feel like they have a chance." The coward ratted out his own kind, pathetic.
"Why lie about the purpose of the lottery?" I asked.
"It's to keep people quiet. If they don't know what's coming then we can lea
ve in peace." He had tears running down his face and a quivering lip as he spoke. I could feel the terror course through him. His elevated heart beat was visible to my senses and I could see his chest heave as he gasped for air. He retched onto the street from the fear. I had had enough. I felt a burning desire to end him. I set the gauntlet to kill and took aim.
"No! I told you the truth! Please!" He shouted.
"I know," I said. "I knew your scheme all along." I fired the laser into the center of his forehead. The beam went straight through his head and burned the tissue as it hit. There would be no blood splatter from the wound. Before his body collapsed I was able to see a faint light filter through the hole in his head. It had been a clean shot. I was satisfied with the way it felt. Hate was a very useful emotion indeed.
I bent over and reached into his left breast pocket. This was the reason for the head shot. I didn't want to risk damaging my escape plan. I pulled a plastic lottery ticket from his pocket and examined it for a moment. It was about five inches by three inches and red in color. There was no name on the ticket, just a series of numbers stamped into the hard plastic. No identification would be necessary from what I could tell. As satisfying as killing this man had been, I almost smiled a wicked grin at my new insurance policy. Now Kara and I had something that the Syndicate did not anticipate. We had a way off the planet.
Chapter 12
The night sky loomed overhead as I returned to the shoreline and began walking home. I was trying to relieve myself of the aggression that had been building itself inside me. I have never enjoyed the act of taking another person’s life before tonight. Then again, it had never suited my needs up until this point. There was something about killing the man who had placed the hit on my father and who had turned my life upside down that was freeing in a scary kind of way. It wasn't for that reason alone that I killed him, but it carried a bit of weight in the gratification that I felt by doing so. I was still carrying the lottery ticket in my hand and I flexed the hard plastic between my hands. So much power was held within this piece of red plastic. It granted life by its presence and death by its absence. It really was not a hard comparison to draw between the ticket I was holding and the Syndicate. Both represented an over indulgent form of population control. The Utopian dream of equality meant that everyone was expendable if you weren’t the one who held the power.
