Uprising

by Justin Kemppainen

  Chapter 32: Political Dissent

  Citizen Gregory Michaels was surprised to remember that he had not yet finished watching the remainder of the video file from the day before. So much had happened: the physical encounter with Dunlevy, the incident in the research lab with Claudia, then the midnight emergency meeting.

  Since he had still yet to discover what his new duties were with his promotion, along with the complete cessation of prisoners to administer chemical interrogation to, he was one of the people temporarily reassigned to assist Claudia in the development of her biochemical agent.

  They tried to keep the weapon secret, so most of the extra help worked on casings, delivery mechanisms, and electronic functions of the device rather than with the actual substance. Michaels, being privy to the knowledge, was able to work directly with Claudia on the formula and replication process.

  "Why are you here? I don't need your help," she had said with an angry glare when he had arrived a couple of hours before.

  He had merely smiled and started looking over her notes and components. His experience in chemistry and biology allowed him to decipher what the various near-illegible scribblings meant. He chided her on her poor penmanship, to which she responded with a rude gesture.

  Michaels found that he enjoyed the exchanges he had with Claudia. This has to be the same satisfaction Arthur gets out of bothering me, he had thought. In any case, Michaels believed that Claudia had nothing but disdain for him, and so he rewarded her by doing everything he could to be irritating.

  "If you had altered this and this," he pointed to several places in her notes, "the substance would have been more easily soluble. How could you not see that?" Later on, he chided, "You do realize that the delivery system is too frail for real practicality."

  In reality, he found the entire device both elegant and near-brilliant. It wasn't without its flaws, but it was as good as it could get on such a tight timetable. However, as he watched her continue to work, he could see the strain in her entire body. True to her word, she was not happy to be working on such a horrific weapon.

  Of course, this didn't lead him to even consider letting up on her. He didn't actually do much to help her in the hours he spent assisting, and it was after his comment, "You know, higher pressurization would extend the dispersal range," that she finally snapped.

  She whirled around and grabbed him by his collar. "I don't give the slightest amount of shit what you think about any of my work, so why don't you get the hell out of my office and find some other poor soul to torture you meek, whining, little son of a-"

  Michaels held up his hands and laughed. "All right, fine." His flippant response caused her eyes to widen with even more rage. "I'll get out of your hair. Try not to miss me too much."

  With a noise of pure disgust she released him, whirled around, and hunched over her desk once more. He heard her muttering angrily as he left the room with a glow of satisfaction surrounding him.

  It was then that he realized that he hadn't finished the video file. Since he had nothing else pressing, he decided to spend the time in his office.

  Sometime later, he came through the door, holding a fresh styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand with instructions to the front desk secretary that he wouldn't be taking any calls. It wasn't that he received many to begin with or that it ever seemed to do any good; he still didn't like to be bothered.

  He planted the cup on the desk and lifted the lid of the inlaid terminal. Still on the display was the video file with Coleman's face awkwardly frozen in mid-word and halfway through blinking.

  Michaels stared at the grainy still image, amazed that he didn't quite feel the same level of disdain for him as before. The animosity still existed, but viewing the man didn't immediately make Michaels scowl. The thought, however, did make him frown slightly, as he wondered if his well-justified attitude of superiority was softening. He still generally felt as though he were more intelligent and capable than the rest of his colleagues, but something was different. Less confidence, his mind informed him, too many things you aren't used to are happening. Genocide and politics? Michaels realized that people like Claudia, Myers, and Dunlevy at least had more experience with the council and higher issues than him.

  He also found himself agreeing with them on more than the mass-murder issue. It seemed that Lange was too old and detached to remain ruling much longer. There was no established succession or election process, so it was likely that Wresh, having considerable influence, would take over. Michaels shuddered at the thought. Even though it would fulfill the little man's ambitious desire, it would likely not result in much good for the Citizenship.

  He cast the thoughts aside with a shake of his head. Not important right now, he thought. He reached to resume the recording, remembering with blunted enthusiasm the nature of the discovery and its restorative capabilities. He clicked play, and Coleman's image spoke once more.

  "...but it really could work." Michaels remembered the talk about implanting the sample in the cadaver, wondering vaguely if Coleman had indeed managed it before his death.

  Coleman sighed. "Well, anyway… it is far beyond the realm of technology or expertise that this planet has ever seen. I marvel at what it could mean for us as a people, but I shudder to think of how this government under the short-sighted leadership of Lange would react to it." Coleman developed an irritated expression. "It's not as though we'll see any improvement in leadership without our beloved Citizen One," he said, mirroring Michaels' own recent thoughts on the subject. "But that matters little. Lange is already determined to try and make himself live forever. Considering how decrepit he must be, at whatever his age..." He shook his head. "I shudder to consider if he was able to utilize something that would grant him immortality." He gave a bitter laugh. "Of course the High Inquisitor would be no better, if he ever fulfills his obvious ambition. At least with Lange, there is a measure of intelligence and rationality mixed in with his superiority complex and severe paranoia."

  Coleman dropped his head into his hands, and during the silence Michaels wondered where the sample had gone. An icicle slid through his spine as he considered that it could have been incinerated when Coleman died. The discovery lost…

  "Still," Coleman said, rubbing his beard. "I don't know if I can keep this to myself any longer, but I don't know in whom I can confide. Citizen Gregory Michaels has a strong intellect, but he seems so indoctrinated into the culture of narrow-minded superiority." Michaels felt a pang of irritation at the insult, slightly offended. "Myers is sharp but self-serving, and the same goes for Citizen Laverock. Arthur perhaps?" He gave a short laugh. "He is the closest thing I have to a friend here, but I wonder about his ability to keep a secret."

  Coleman shook his head again. "I'm going to have to do something about it soon. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up." With that, the weary-looking man reached over and the image froze, ending the recording.

  Michaels let out a sigh and sank back into the chair, contemplating. Genocide against the dwellers of down below? Alien technology of immortality? He again wondered where the sample had ended up: whether it was destroyed or if Coleman had attempted his experiment. This collided with the thoughts of the horrific chemical agent, and Michaels wondered if the restorative technology, miraculous though it was, could deal with such a biologically disruptive force.

  Thoughts swirling, he closed out of the video file, and with a start he saw that the desktop had changed from a passive sky-blue color to a deep red with a bright white graphical skull imposed in the center. A shiver rolled up Michaels' spine at the grim image, and he wondered why it had changed. He moved the cursor around the screen, and suddenly the skull's mouth sprang open and round, bloodshot eyes formed in the dark sockets.

  Through the speakers Michael could hear the sound of deep, throaty laughter and the screen went wild with flashing colors of dark red, orange, and yellow. Michaels stared at the display with growing apprehension as the words 'Destroy it!' flashed across th
e screen, superimposed over the image.

  Then, all at once, the screen went completely black. He tried to move the cursor around, but only a dark displacement blur, like a finger tracing across the surface of water, appeared where the cursor should have been. Confused, he was reaching for the reset button when his desk let out a sharp blare.

  He jumped, cursing and wondering why the intercom signal was so obnoxious. He pressed the button. "What?"

  "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," he recognized the voice of the receptionist, "but there is someone here to see you."

  He touched the button again. "I don't want any visitors. Tell them I'm busy."

  "I tried that, sir. Several times."

  In the background, he heard a distinct female voice: Claudia. "I know he's in there. Tell him to get his pasty ass out here. Now!"

  "Just a moment, ma'am," he heard the receptionist say. Directed at him, she said, "She's very insistent; would it be possible for you to come out here?"

  Chuckling to himself at the thought of Claudia coming to find him, Michaels replied, "Yes, of course, I'll be right there."

  With a last glance at the screen, he saw that the video program was open with a new file loaded, and the desktop had returned to its normal color. He blinked, surprised by yet another sudden change. Hesitantly, he reached over and closed the lid. Curious as he was, there would be time enough for it later.

  He stepped out into the hallway, and moments later he walked up to an irate-looking Claudia, still arguing with the receptionist.

  "Call him again! I don't have time to stand around waiting."

  The woman at the desk's composure was clearly starting to wear. "He will be along." She smiled sweetly as he came up. "Hello, Citizen Michaels."

  Claudia whirled around. "Took you long enough." she said angrily. "Hurry up and come with me."

  Michaels raised an eyebrow and stood his ground. "Hello Claudia, nice to see you as well." Her scowl deepened. "Where exactly are we going in such a hurry?"

  She sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I need your…" she got a disgusted look, "help with something." She gritted her teeth. "If you're not too busy."

  Glee flooded through him. "Of course. I'm never to busy to assist you, my dear."

  Claudia rolled her eyes and started walking briskly down the hall. "Hurry up!" she called without turning around.

  Laughing to himself, he set off down the hallway after her.