Daiss closed the door behind him, shrugging. “Internal affairs. A few questions about Hawkins, more about my weapon. A lot of stares at my complexion.” He held his pigmented hands in front of him, examining them and scowling to himself. “I’m sorry, sir. I should have taken the risk and killed them barehanded, been done with the girl, the old man, all of them.”
“Nonsense. You have served well. The old man’s weapon was primitive but dangerous. You’re too important to go risking yourself over trivia. Don’t let Internal Affairs distract you. It is imperative that you adhere to the Zeta principles.”
“Always, sir. I will act only in accordance with your vision and your teachings. But Internal Affairs will continue to be an obstacle, sir. If they could grasp how important—”
“They’re still stuck in the old mindset, Daiss, like the rest of the bureaucracy.” He rolled his eyes. “God built the power structure and placed you here. Serve God by serving the Federal government’s interest. It’s so archaic it sounds ridiculous to us, but to them it makes perfect sense. They have no way to understand that the game has changed.”
“I know, sir. Only Task Force Zeta serves the Lord directly.”
Samuelson nodded, his eyes narrowed. “Not just a mantra, my student. A truth! So don’t be too hard on yourself. Having more murderers loose in the Zone will likely advance the cause of our Lord further than locking them up would have done.”
“Yes, sir. But locking them up would have served my immediate objective—”
“Your objective is the same as it has ever been.” The eyes fixed on Daiss, the words came fast. “You will continue in your efforts to destabilize the Zone and undermine any societal pillars there you can. Stay true to your purpose.”
“Yes, sir. Zetas will weed the Lord’s garden. But they already live like animals …”
“Their simple attempts at social order only prevent them from eliminating themselves in the short term. The key is to let them become as wild as they will, let them send each other to the Lord in greater and greater numbers. We’ll even allow their occasional little raids into the suburbs, for now. Soon they will be so savage and menacing that society will act to control them like any other infestation, and that duty will belong to Task Force Zeta.”
“Thank you, sir. I will remember.”
Schafer House, Ltd.
Part of the McGuillian family of companies
Dear Mr. Edward Schiff, IV:
Congratulations on your selection of Schafer House, Ltd. for your voluntary reconditioning. As you know, your future employer and our parent organization, McGuillian Corporation, is sponsoring you and has assumed responsibility for all expenses incurred in the course of your treatment.
We have been informed that you prefer to be called “Li’l Ed.” You may resume use of this name when you achieve Accepted status. For now your designation will be: V-16, 33822641K. Additional program details and instructions will be forthcoming.
Rest assured that you will receive the best possible care during your stay. McGuillian Corporation values you!
PART II
19
Amelix Retreat
A SUBSIDIARY OF AMELIX INTEGRATIONS
Reconditioning Feedback Form
Seeker of Understanding
INVOLUNTARY, GRADE THREE
Subject: #117B882QQ
Division: Corporate Regulations
Dear #117B882QQ,
Congratulations on your upgrade to Seeker of Understanding, Involuntary, Grade Three.
As before, incomplete, evasive, or non-participatory answers will be rejected.
1. Please describe any recent thoughts and feelings that pertain to your ongoing experience at Amelix Retreat and to your relationship with the company.
It feels like I’ve been here for several lifetimes. There are no calendars or clocks, so I don’t know how long it’s really been, and no one will tell me. Although I’m proud to be a Grade Three, I am ashamed that I am still not fit to serve the company in the general work force.
I have come to value my group so much. It started with the realization that without them I would have been killed in the first ten minutes of every combat simulation. Doubting them and questioning whether they were even “real” was just my way of resisting the cohesion that separates us from the Zone’s wretched waste.
Today in combat I was taken prisoner and tortured with a straight razor, leaving me crisscrossed with gaping, bloody wounds. Sometimes the cuts were so deep I felt the metal scrape across bone. I knew they were trying to draw the team for an ambush but I didn’t scream. I took it, silently, until I blacked out, and not a single member of my group was sacrificed for me.
For so many years, I held a grudge against my parents, Amelix, and God. I felt abandoned and unloved when my father died and my mother was reconditioned, but actually my parents, Amelix, and God were doing what was best for me throughout my life, guiding me to Amelix. Now I see that God works through my superiors as He once worked through parents. By resenting authority and control, I failed to realize I was rejecting God’s love.
Today when I was granted authority and control over captured Heaves, I realized that power was divinely ordained. I obey my superiors completely and control my subordinates completely, and in this way the Lord’s work is done.
Underground
Eadie lay on a crumbling foam mattress in her “room,” a short section of tunnel that went nowhere, reading her notebook aloud by lamplight. Rosa massaged Eadie’s shoulders and listened, though Eadie knew many of the words were beyond her English vocabulary. A drain above let in a shaft of brilliant sunlight, which flashed bright and dim as pedestrians passed by.
“Our species evolved over a million years or more—maybe hundreds of millions, depending on what you choose as the starting point. We became smarter, teaching ourselves language and the use of tools. We mastered everything, from hunting and farming to building houses and teaching our children.
“But then we hijacked evolution, forcing people to be defined only by their contribution to an organization rather than their individual niche in the world as a whole. We became specialized in ridiculously small areas of expertise, like corporate regulations and computer languages, and the more specialized the work, the higher those people doing it are valued. Now the people best able to survive in our world are those who are so specialized they can barely function outside the narrow scope of their job descriptions.
“Without our companies, we no longer have the ability to feed or clothe ourselves. We are so dependent on our organizations that they have become the source of life itself. But nature intended for us to exist as independent organisms, so those same entities that keep us alive also smother us—”
“You summoned me, General?”
Eadie looked up. The Prophet stood in the wider tunnel that ran perpendicular to hers and served as her hallway. Even now, his mere presence gave her an odd, cold feeling, and his glowing circle reminded her that she was now marked in a similar way. Everyone in her group had been given a permanent, luminous, living fungal tattoo on his or her forehead to show they were outside and superior to the Subject hierarchy. Eadie’s was a triangle like most of her group, but hers alone was filled in to show she was in a position of leadership.
She laughed. “My summons means something to you?”
“Here in the Underground Kingdom you are royalty, General. You are outranked only by King James himself.”
“Thanks to you and the mythology you made up before I even got here. You convinced everyone in this place that you and I both deserve this strange, religious reverence. The Prophet and the General. The story works for both of us, so I’m grateful for that.”
She gestured to a spot in front of her on the floor, raising herself to a sitting position. The Prophet emerged from the shadows and sat down, ignoring Rosa’s suspicious stare. He had told Rosa that Eadie’s quest would end abuse like little Mari had suffered, and Rosa sincerely believed. After the girl die
d, Rosa became Eadie’s strongest supporter and constant companion, and she seemed to have appointed herself to the duty of personal bodyguard. The Prophet got more leeway than most, but Rosa clearly did not judge him to be entirely worthy of her trust.
“It is all to the Subjects’ own benefit, General, I assure you,” the Prophet said. “Only reverence and obedience will solve their problems. All Subjects gladly obey you. Even I do.”
“But yet you completely ignored me when I tried to get you to stop drinking so much.”
The Prophet shrugged. “Power flows along certain channels, General. You can dig up rocks, break them into tiny bits, even form those bits into concrete. But you cannot order them to stop being rocks.”
She cocked her head, amused. “I could break them down into their component chemicals.”
“But they would cease to exist as rocks altogether. Is this why you summoned me? To break me down?”
“No.” With a hand on Rosa’s shoulder she lowered her voice and said, “Leave us for a little bit, querida. Check the tunnels close by and make sure no one is there.” Rosa placed her hand over Eadie’s and nodded. “Sí, general.”
Rosa passed the Prophet with narrowed eyes and disappeared into the gloom. Eadie picked up Kel’s pipe, already loaded with paper and nicotine the Subjects of the Underground Kingdom had provided her. She flicked Kel’s lighter and took a drag.
“You know,” Eadie began, “When I first got here, I thought the Subjects’ religion was kind of ridiculous. The Great Mother Earth, carrying all the Subjects in her belly, providing the faithful with what they need.”
“But that religion is what gives them hope, General,” said the Prophet. “It ensures harmony—they share equally because they believe the Great Mother wants them to do so. And the religion is the reason they have such faith in you.”
“I know. And I feel it now—my place here, my duty.” She laughed. “It’s crazy, but I really am the leader they need. I am their gift from the Great Mother.”
She placed the notebook in the Prophet’s hands. “You’ve explained to me what they believe, and I’ve come to believe it, too. But it goes beyond the Subjects, Prophet. I’ve not been led here simply to solve their problems. I’m meant to fix the whole world.” She let go of the notebook and the Prophet raised it with both hands, turning so that its cover was illuminated in the light from the drain.
“I want you to read this, Prophet,” she said. “Use it to teach the Subjects. Help them understand that our purpose is holy—not just for us, but for everyone.”
The Prophet bowed deeply. “I am happy you have come to know this, General. Thank you for lending me this book, which you say is so close to your heart.”
She took another drag and set the pipe down, picking up one of the two Federal weapons Ernesto insisted he had fixed perfectly. His unique talents had been immediately acknowledged and appreciated by the Subjects, and they had enlisted his help to develop new kinds of traps to protect the Underground Kingdom from outsiders. Eadie had instructed the entire population to provide him with whatever he needed to perform his tasks.
“I also need for you to set up training exercises so I can work with them, Prophet. To teach them what I’ll be expecting.”
The Prophet’s fingers gently caressed the book’s cover as he spoke. “Their specific knowledge will not be directly relevant to your purposes, General. Only their obedience is needed, and for that, there is training by others.” The Prophet grinned slightly. Eadie shivered. “Your job begins when the teaching is done, General.”
“How can their knowledge be unimportant?”
“The acquisition of knowledge is not the purpose of their training,” the Prophet said. “It is merely a tool for teaching them their most important skill: the ability to follow orders without hesitation. Unquestioning obedience is an essential attribute of any worthy soldier in any army, General. The Subjects are physically weak, and they are flawed in other ways as well, but if properly trained, they can and will obey.”
“I want to be involved with their training, Prophet,” she said. “Set it up.”
“As you wish, General.” He stood. “Will that be all?”
“Is there a way to bulk some of the Subjects up, make them physically stronger for fighting?
“Nutritional rations could be enriched for some, General, but it would require others of them to sacrifice, which would almost certainly kill them. However, all rations have birth control elements which tend to make everyone more supple and feminine. If those were removed from rations I believe you would see an elevation of strength but you must be prepared to act quickly. Pregnancies would throw off caloric balance and I cannot predict the consequences.”
Old Fart’s quarters, underground
“How is your meal, Old Fart?”
Old Fart smiled weakly at King James, the ancient-looking leader of the Subjects, who stood in the entry to his small chamber. “It’s … it’s very nice, thank you. Please come in.”
“After so long with us, you’ve still not grown accustomed to our food,” James said. He entered and eased himself carefully to the floor, leaning against the curving wall. “I’m sure it’s quite different from what you were used to up above.”
The young Subject woman who had brought his meal kissed Old Fart’s hand and backed toward the door. One stripe on her forehead meant she was still of the lowest rank, that of pupil. He smiled kindly at her, then watched wistfully as she disappeared into the hallway. The Underground Kingdom was an absolute hierarchy and the Subjects always offered themselves sexually to superiors whenever they performed routine services.
Old Fart used a finger to stir the lukewarm black soup in his polished stone bowl, releasing an aroma of concentrated mildew. “Yes, it’s certainly different, but I know that you folks are giving me more than the standard ration down here and I truly thank you for that. I’m sorry if I don’t seem appreciative.”
“I wish it could be more to your liking. But this soup is made with more than twenty kinds of fungi and it has quite a lot of vitamins and minerals … even a special compound that helps greatly for seeing in the dark. The Prophet himself hybridized them all for us when he lived here before. Without him we never would have been able to create this kingdom.”
“The Prophet? Really?”
“Yes. Food, medicine, the glowing material that we use in lamps and tattoos and for marking tunnels—all fungi, all from the Prophet. The man is truly a gift of the Great Mother.” He gestured at the antique 7-Up bottle serving as Old Fart’s lamp. “Oil, as well. That’s a secretion from one of the Prophet’s strains.” Old Fart glanced at the bottle, its flame giving off a faintly sour-smelling smoke. King James turned his head, looking out the entrance of the tunnel where they sat. His stringy white hair was plastered to his head and shoulders.
“What feeds the fungi?” Old Fart asked.
“We do, Old Fart. Every Subject has a time to feed the fungi.” King James said. “But today, I am here to bring another dispute to your attention. You’ve been such a wonderful arbitrator for us lately, and this one is really of terrible importance, especially with all that’s happening …”
“Of course. I rather enjoy being the judge around here. It gives me something useful to do, and since I have little in common with anyone here, they believe I’m impartial—and wise, too, strangely enough. It must be my age. Come to think of it … Is there anyone here as old as I am, besides Dok?”
King James shook his head. “Except for you, and you are more than ten years my senior, I’m the eldest here by a rather wide margin. But to the point, this case must be decided immediately. It concerns the weapons.”
“Weapons? You mean all those ropes and pulleys and rocks that you smash intruders with?”
“No. It is a collection of objects—everything that has been picked up from the various types who have tried to infiltrate us … that is, everything that may have survived being smashed.” He turned. “Enter, Subjects!”
/> Two tiny beings shuffled into the room, pasty white flesh enveloping spindly bones beneath the dark rags they all wore. Their eyes, like those of all the Subjects, were wide and round—rather owl-like—but they squinted in the dim lamplight. It took Old Fart several seconds to conclude that the pair was comprised of one male and one female. One held a wooden stick that might have been a broken chair rung and a knife crudely cut from a sheet of thin metal. The other had something that looked like a bent metal fence post. Old Fart sighed. The pair gave him the hesitating half bow all Subjects did, and Old Fart made a sincere attempt at returning it.
“Well, Subjects,” he said. “What’s the matter?”
The Subjects watched each other as they each opened their mouths and tried to say something. This was a common problem: Their etiquette was so stifling that nobody knew how to begin speaking. “You,” Old Fart said, pointing to the one with the stick and knife. “Please explain your situation.”
“I speak for the Explorers, Old Fart, sir.” The voice was so soft that Old Fart had to lean forward to hear it, even in the tiny tunnel. This was the one Old Fart suspected might be female. “We travel to the far reaches of our Kingdom, checking traps and collecting what has been reclaimed for us by the Great Mother. Now General Eadie has come, and the Prophet says the weapons we have found must somehow be distributed. We believe the Great Mother gave them to the Explorers and that She chose us to distribute them.”
Old Fart gestured at the other one. “And you say what?”
“We are the Keepers, Old Fart, sir.” The voice might even have been softer than the first. “We are charged with storing all the Kingdom’s valuables. We have kept the weapons for the Kingdom, and we believe we are charged with distributing them as part of our duty to care for all that is kept.”
Old Fart nodded. “The Keepers stay with the items they keep, and the Explorers travel around the entire Kingdom, is that right?” he asked. Both Subjects nodded. “So you can both be involved in distribution. The Keepers will provide the weapons to the Explorers, who will deliver them where they need to go. The more important issue, though, is that of allocation. Someone needs to figure out who should get what. Which group will be better at matching weapons with those who will use them?”
The Book of Eadie, Volume One of the Seventeen Trilogy Page 29