Lux had lost most of the hair from the top of his head, and that which remained was a dingy, faded-looking brown. It had been gathered and tied with string into two long braids that hung down over each ear. His stringy beard was also twisted into two braids. “Is he going out, Patrol Leader?” Lux asked.
“Yes. I made the decision, I gave the order. Though I’m still a little uncomfortable with this test.”
The braids swung back and forth as Lux nodded. “I understand, Patrol Leader. It could be seen as questioning the Divinators’ decision.”
“But I have to know. He’ll be leading a Round in my Patrol. It’s my duty to assess his mental stability. The man actually believes he’s a samurai!”
Lux nodded again.
“So we’ll go ahead as planned,” Coiner said. “Bring the best Round in your Front and we’ll follow him.”
Amelix Retreat
A SUBSIDIARY OF AMELIX INTEGRATIONS
Reconditioning Feedback Form
Seeker of Understanding
INVOLUNTARY, GRADE TWO
Subject: #117B882QQ
Division: Corporate Regulations
1. Please describe today’s combat simulation exercise.
The combat simulations are getting more intense. Each one is several hours long now, and the fighting seems increasingly vicious. I get injured a lot, even when we win, but I am learning to keep my mind focused on my mission instead of the pain, to avoid being crippled by pathway amplification.
Before we went out, DeeElle and 6T clapped me on the back, encouraging me and pumping me up to fight. (“You can do it, 2Q, we believe in you.”) That small gesture made such a huge difference. I felt the thrill of combat rising before the door even opened.
“I wish my real coworkers could’ve been more like you people,” I said. “I feel like I could have done anything if I was working with this kind of a group.”
“We are your real coworkers, 2Q,” 6T said. “We’ll never know each other in the same way you know your officemates, but the whole company is your family, and we’re all working toward the same goal. Office workers, managers, maintenance people … even the Trust employees are all part of the same operation.”
Then we were out in the Zone somewhere, at least holographically, making our way down some street. The A-Heaves came at us from two directions. We lost T5F and Seazie straight away. I took a hit in my right hand, losing all of it except part of my thumb. The only path left to us was an alley, but it was a trap. Two Heaves started cutting us to pieces from the far end, and I took another hit, this one cracking my jawbone. Someone from my group returned fire, but I couldn’t tell who it was.
The Heaves pulled back around corners. I tucked my rifle butt into my right armpit and wrapped my forearm around it, holding the barrel with my left hand, and ran toward the end of the alley before they popped back around. I took out the first one with my bayonet, stabbing the blade straight up through the throat and lower jaw. The second one aimed at me, but my group member—I think maybe Burt—shot him. Only three of us made it out the other end: Burt, Forby, and me.
I felt so alive! We wrapped my arm and put a triangle bandage around my head, and then we were back in the game. I knew the pain would compound and build if I focused on it, so instead I concentrated on the adrenaline it was giving me. Then it was the rush building on itself, and soon my whole body was vibrating with the need to hunt and kill.
We circled back around and slaughtered a few more Heaves, but eventually they managed to kill us all off. Even so, when I popped back into the conference room holo, the group was all there, cheering and congratulating me for my heroics. It was a great feeling.
2. Please share some details of your experience in group therapy today.
Now that they approve of my contributions in combat, the group is kinder during the meetings, too. They praised me for having conquered the “illusion of self” to function for the common benefit.
There was a tight little A-Heave prisoner someone caught, and they gave her to me as a reward. The team explained to me in no uncertain terms how conquering the illusion of self also meant that I had to conquer the illusion that this groveling, insignificant enemy pawn was a separate being deserving of dignity. I admit that I hesitated for a moment, but having just earned some respect from my team, I wasn’t about to lose it again for some A-Heave bitch.
I took a deep breath, and then I ordered her to kneel. I took off my belt and laid into her, whipping it across her again and again, making her look me in the face the whole time, until I saw something break behind her eyes. I climbed up onto the conference table with her and yanked her hair, using it to position her head where I wanted it. Then I fucked her face, not even like it was a cunt, but more like it was just a masturbatory device. My team cheered me on until I emptied myself down her throat. I was allowed to experience it as a level five!
3. Please consider other events of the day, such as religious services, mealtimes, and interactions with your Accepted advisor, and explain how these experiences helped you grow and change.
Because combat simulations take up so much of the day now, we all go without food for long stretches of time. Our group is allowed to interact holographically during the meal that follows each simulation, and after the pain, strain, and starvation of combat, it feels indescribably good to sit on comfortable furniture, in a temperature controlled room, eating and talking. After a level five orgasm, it’s incredible.
4. Please share any additional thoughts or comments.
I used to have so many thoughts, so many comments. Now I just don’t.
In the decrepit hotel
“You know the floor creaks every time you pace back and forth like that,” Lawrence whispered harshly.
“So?” Kel said.
“So don’t you see that they’re sleeping?” Lawrence gestured at Rosa and Eadie in the bed. Mari had clung so tightly to Rosa that neither had slept, so Arrulfo had taken her. She slept now with her arms around his neck, as he leaned against the wall and tried to rest.
“Yeah. Still. They’re still sleepin.’ So what’s the problem?”
“Can’t you show anyone even a little bit of consideration? And what good does it do you, anyway, walking up to the door, putting your hand on it, then walking back, over and over again?”
“Listen, Student-Fuck-Peckerhead-The-Seventh, how ’bout you look after you, an’ I look after me, okay?”
Lawrence shook his head. “That’s it. Keep us weak.”
Kel stood over where Lawrence sat on the floor. “Talkin’ about yourself, huh? Cause ain’t nothin’ weak up here.”
Lawrence rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about us as a group, which obviously means nothing to you.” He tried to sit up taller as Kel locked eyes with him. “Sure, you’re strong individually. You have to be, because you’re always alone. You’re always a group of one. But a group of one is always the weakest group.”
“Tough enough to survive here in the Zone for a long time so far, punk,” Kel said. “An’ lookit you, Golden boy, you’re one of those group types, but here you are by yerself in the Zone.”
“Yes. Trying to form some sort of group that can keep us all alive. But to do that we need to cooperate. That’s how my people came to run the world, and it’s how we can compete with the rest of the groups here in the Zone now. If we each contribute what we can, we work together and we help meet each other’s needs—like sleeping—our group can survive.”
“Maybe we can all sit here an’ talk to computers all day,” Kel said. “Maybe wait around for our boss to come in so we can kiss his ass?” Kel paced back over to the door. “See, you corporate types all co-op-erate, but you do it just ’cause you learn that’s what you’re supposed to do. Real folks’re supposed to cooperate for a reason, not just because some student fuck tells ’em to. Doin’ what you’re told—that’s how you get duped into doing someone else’s business, ’steada your own.”
“But over time, people like you are
dying off. People like me are the ones who survive.”
“Oh? Like you, huh? You here in the Zone? No school, no job? There’s a name fer fucksticks like you. You’re the Departed. Get it? People like you wind up eating each other or dying of your own stink. That’s what you are without me.”
Lawrence stared up at him. Kel leaned down slightly, lowering his voice, with his eyes wide and a tiny smile on his face. “People like you die alla time. Some get kicked out of your little suburban shit, some go march up a hill an’ get shot when somebody tells ’em to. What that means is some of your people survive—the ones giving orders. But I’m already here.” He lightly punched the door once with each hand. “Lookin’ out for myself. Only chumps like you get fooled into living how someone else wants and then get thrown ass-first into the Zone with no chance of makin’ it.”
“We can’t live like wild animals, Kel.”
“You ever seen a wild animal?”
“No.”
“Then how you know we can’t live like ’em?”
“Because there aren’t any wild animals! Nobody’s ever seen them, because they don’t exist anymore. They’ve been wiped out by more organized, intelligent creatures. The organized live, and the wild die.”
Kel shrugged. “I’m still here.”
Near the Zone’s best medical supply market
“It doesn’t make sense,” Dok said. He adjusted the package in his arms, full of herbs and medicinal items as well as food. “I mean, I know they’re after Eadie and they’ve proven they’ll do anything to get her. But why poison my patients? How did they even find another black man to do it?” He shook his head, taking a few more steps. “And why arsenic? There are so many better poisons—ones that’d probably be easier to get, especially for Feds.”
“I don’t know,” Old Fart said. He struggled to hoist his own bundle, tripping and nearly falling on the rutted path that served as a sidewalk. His shirt was soaked through with sweat. “I … bargaining with that herb seller and his friend who sold the groceries, trying to get a fair deal from both of them for the one coin … I’ve never experienced such cutthroat negotiation, and I’ve worked in the CBD my whole career!”
“Do you want to trade packages for a while? That one looks heavier than mine. I’m pretty sure you got the worse end of the deal.”
“No, no, I’m okay,” Old Fart said, though his straining voice suggested otherwise. “We’re only a few blocks from the hotel now, anyway.”
Dok smiled to himself, realizing that some of the strain in Old Fart’s voice was an exaggeration for dramatic effect. “Are you sure? I don’t mind carrying that one. Let’s trade.”
“All right. That would be nice. Thank you.” They stopped, setting down their loads. After resting for a few breaths, they each picked up the other’s package and started to walk again.
A body came at Dok with a sweeping shove that pushed him deep into an alley and up against a wall, a knife at his throat. Old Fart landed next to him with a dull thud.
Hands went through Dok’s pockets. Dok’s whole body relaxed. These were ordinary muggers, not Federal Agents or Unnamed Executives.
The second mugger made a shocked grunting noise and for a moment Dok thought maybe someone had attacked him—maybe Kel or Arrulfo had come out to look for them …
“Lookit! Lookit!” the mugger said. “Don’tcha know enough ta hide shit like this, old man?”
“A gold coin!” Dok’s mugger said. “That shit’s illegal, asshole.” He laughed. “Naughty, naughty, you Departed motherfucker. An’ look what ol’ blackie had!” He held up the two bags of powder Dok’s patient had left with him—all he could give to thank him for saving his life, he had said. “Gonna have us a party tonight!”
“No!” Dok said. The knife edge pressed deeper against his throat. “That’s not a drug. It’s arsenic! Poison! You can’t ingest that! I swear, it will kill you.”
The knife pulled away from his throat. Its handle jabbed Dok hard in the chest. “Shut up. You think we’re gonna fall fer that?” Dok now got a better look at his attacker. He had a wide square face and one damaged eye that pointed up at a bizarre angle, the cornea inside tilted or folded in such a way that it shone glassily from an unusual depth inside the eyeball.
“By the way, your friend here is trying to cheat you,” Old Fart said. “He took two gold coins from me, not one. He showed you one, but there were two.”
“Shut up, shithead,” Old Fart’s mugger said, punching him hard in the jaw and kicking him in the knee. Old Fart cried out and collapsed. The man snatched up the package of supplies that lay on the ground.
“I’m gonna search you next, C.T,” Dok’s mugger said, grabbing Dok’s bundle. “If you got two ’steada one like you showed me, I’m gonna cut you up good.”
The thug with the coins ran away, and the other man chased him. Dok helped Old Fart to his feet. “Can you stand?”
Old Fart nodded. “I can stand. But I can’t put much weight on this leg. It’ll be hard to walk.”
Dok turned around, looking at the ground. “They didn’t drop anything. It’s all gone.”
The Williams home
Amelix CEO Walt Zytem himself announced that the company was filing suit in response to the slanderous charges:
“We realized after the incident with Mr. Terry and his “Slatewiper” nonsense that we must take whatever steps are necessary to protect the good name of Amelix Integrations. Our enterprise is prepared to aggressively refute these or any other false allegations, and any employee making fraudulent accusations shall be punished and held up as an example to others who might be tempted to invent malicious stories for personal gain. This so-called “I.Q. cocktail” does not exist, and if there was such a combination of drugs, we would sell it openly. It’s a preposterous charge, and we will disprove it, just as we did with the earlier attempt to—
Ani shut off her EI. None of the recent news stories she’d found discussed her brother at all. At least her family’s ruined reputation wasn’t attracting much attention yet.
Her father came into her room.
“Ani, a few things have happened that we need to discuss right away,” he said.
“I’ve already heard what Sett did, sir,” she said.
“It’s worse than you know.”
She sighed. “I know some waitress got uppity—with Matt Ricker! He tried to put her in her place and she killed him. And then Sett went and threw his life away, picking her up and carrying her out of there. Lance told me, right before he called off our engagement. Can it be worse than that, Father?”
“Sett was supposed to meet with the Federal Angels who are investigating the case. He never showed up.”
Ani gasped, half standing. He’d made himself a fugitive. Was there no limit to her brother’s stupidity? She let out a long, shaky breath and lowered herself back to the edge of the soft platform that supported her sleep chamber.
“Ani,” Chairman Williams said. She turned, looking flatly at her father. “There’s more. Clayton Ricker sent his Unnamed to my office. I had expected that, and I was ready for them.” He sighed. “They threatened me—me, the head of a sovereign corporation!—and they insulted our company and this entire family.”
Yes. She should have thought of this. Of course Ricker would send his UE.
Chairman Williams closed his eyes, nodding. “One-Fourteen killed them, on my signal. It’s all cleaned up now, of course, and our Unnamed are watching the neighborhood so we know we’re safe for the time being.” He paused and she turned away, looking around the room. Ani had ordered the walls done in yellow; the curtains and furniture were white and spotless. The linens inside the sleep chamber had a cheerful floral pattern, blooms with bright yellow petals flopping in all directions and black circles in the middle, which now seemed to reach upward, pointing at her like gun barrels.
“We have to go,” he said. They’ll be coming to the house.”
She nodded. “At least you weren’t hurt, sir.�
�
“I wasn’t, but I’m afraid your mother was. She’s in a coma, Ani. There was nothing to be done. She’s now being monitored by the synthesizer and your Esteemed Uncle Darius has already filed the necessary forms. She’s gone … she won’t awaken. It’s very upsetting, of course, but we must remember that it’s the Lord’s will.”
A shock traveled up Ani’s spine. She sat up straight, her eyes rising to her father’s face. Her mother was incapacitated. Her mother was company president. So, that meant …
Her father cleared his throat. “As you know, under the prenuptial agreement filed with the Williams Gypsum Corporation, your mother’s proxy vote on the board passes to me until I’m incapacitated. But her title goes to you, our firstborn. You’re now company president.”
Ani sat motionless, processing the news. The incredibly powerful Ricker family was waging war on them and had already claimed her mother. Now she and her father had to abandon their home. The Lord’s will. In her life she had never faced this much danger, but neither had she controlled this much power.
Some scorching Zone rooftop near where the darkened Fed was playing doctor
“Should we check the muggers? Maybe they’ve got something that will lead to the girl.” The black-suited man shifted position to another side of the rooftop, watching one offender chasing the other away from the scene.
“Negative,” said the voice coming through the EI. “Unlikely there’s anything helpful there. Spotting that skinny Black Negro so close to his old neighborhood gives us the best lead we’ve had so far. Keep your eyes on him. Let’s see where he goes.”
14
In the hotel
Courage is essential in leadership, but courage is rare. That’s why there are so few leaders of any real substance: Even the noblest, most altruistic attempts to change history will be met with hostility and resistance. One who is afraid to make enemies will forever be at the mercy of those who are not. One who is afraid of taking the lead will always be led.
The Book of Eadie, Volume One of the Seventeen Trilogy Page 23