Reverend Carter was pleased with the successful celebration in the village square. »Well, Magister Dexter, now you too must admit that it was a good idea to honor this day with a special celebration,« he said to me.
»Yeah, it a nice day,« I said with a shrug. »I think the kids enjoyed it.«
The Reverend turned to the two girls who were riding with us. They were still wearing their colorful paper hats. »Well, children, did you enjoy it?«
Janet was beaming all over her face. »Of course we enjoyed it, especially marching through the streets.«
The preacher smiled happily at the answer.
»But, Reverend, may I ask you something?« Janet added.
»Just ask, my daughter.«
»There is one thing I don’t understand,« she began her question. »Why do the Brutes want to attack us? Aren’t they happy that we defeated the machines? Why are they our enemies, now that the real enemies of all humans have been destroyed, the evil machines?«
The Reverend’s wrinkled his forehead. »That’s a very difficult question you’re asking, my daughter,« he said, while he must have thought frantically about what to answer. I could not avoid a certain amusement at the question. But I said nothing and waited anxiously for Carter’s answer.
»Well, the Brutes, they are not like us,« the Reverend began. »They do not build houses, they do not plant fields, they do not keep animals. They live in the ruins and make a living out of the remains of a perished machine civilization. Sometimes they also hunt and gather fruit, but they have forgotten how to live like humans. I think they got too dependent on the machines back then that in the end they weren’t able anymore to produce anything themselves without them. That’s why they’ve become savages. They have forgotten how to look after themselves, how to farm and build settlements. They are an example of how the machines have degenerated humanity. They have lost virtually everything that makes them human. And they hate us for it.«
»If I could just have a word,« I interjected.
»Sure, Magister Dexter, go ahead!« said the Reverend.
»The Brutes have a slightly different opinion on that subject,« I explained. »They believe that every form of technology is evil, even ours. They believe that even carriages and sawmills are the beginning of the machine civilization and must therefore be destroyed. They follow Ted Kaczynski, who considered the hunter-gatherer society to be the only form of society appropriate to man. In this respect they regard us as heretics, because we have still not completely freed ourselves from civilization. They see themselves as the true and pure liberators from the machines and us as remnants of the machine society.«
»Magister Dexter, please don’t confuse the children with this nonsense!« the Reverend interrupted me. »Do you want us to give up the village and live with the savages?«
»I only told you, what the Brutes believe,« I defended myself. »And I think that’s what Janet’s question was about. She wanted to know why the Brutes hate us.«
The coachman now stopped the vehicle. We had arrived at Magister Sanders’ house. »I am sorry, gentlemen, that I can no longer attend to your conversation, but I have arrived here at the end of my journey. See you tomorrow at school«, he said goodbye. The rest of us also said goodbye to him. Then the coachman drove the horse back on and we continued our trip home.
»Listen, Dexter,« Reverend Carter continued our discussion, »I don’t know why you always have to criticize everything we have achieved in our village. And that in front of the children. What do you want them to learn from this?«
»I’m just trying to be realistic,« I replied. »The truth is that the Neo-Luddite fanatics who fought against the machines have become more and more radical since the Crusade. At first it was just a matter of turning back the technology to the level of the year 2000. Then that was no longer enough and all computers were to be destroyed. Then that wasn’t enough either and all the electrical equipment was destroyed. And now here in our village we don’t even have anyone who can make a clock anymore. And for some people the civilization we have preserved in our village is already too much, and they want us to live from hunting wandering around like nomads, like the indigenous Red Indians, in harmony with nature. Where will it end? Where do we finally draw a line? So far and no further! We are humans. We can’t become animals again.«
»Magister Dexter, I don’t think this is the right subject to discuss in front of the children,« Reverend Carter said sharply.
Our conversation ended in a tense silence. I hoped we would soon reach my house and I could get out.
With this Reverend it was simply impossible to have a conversation without it ending in an argument. I really missed my old mentor Neil O’Neil. He would have had the right answer for that idiot Carter. Ever since O’Neil left us, New Detroit had gone downhill. His authority figure, who kept keeping the people in the right direction, was really somebody we were missing here. There just was no other man like him left in this village. I melancholically remembered the time with the Old Man.
Washington, D. C., 2051
Neil O’Neil stared at the screen in his office. In the meantime, we had fully charged the Android Anabelle with the small emergency generator and connected O’Neil’s computer to get the latest news. Our smartphones were also recharged. Of course we didn’t run the generator with the stock from O’Neil’s house bar anymore. In the meantime I had purchased a few gallons of industrial alcohol. It hadn’t been easy, but I had been able to exchange some valuables with that Freeman guy. Pepco still hadn’t restored power and we were still in O’Neil’s apartment.
»The Internet no longer works,« O’Neil noted.
Anabelle stood next to him and did some tests with his computer. »That’s odd, because the signal’s still there.«
»Our smartphones are also still working,« I added. »And they use the Internet, too.«
»Can you get an Internet connection with your smartphone?« asked the android.
»No,« I answered while testing it with my little device, »but I’m getting a phone connection.« To prove it, I called O’Neil’s smartphone.
»But we don’t have Internet,« O’Neil repeated.
»Looks like some major DNS root name servers are down or something,« I said.
O’Neil got upset: »That’s outrageous! It’s getting worse and worse, and nothing is being fixed. What are all these technicians doing?«
»Most repair technicians were robots,« Anabelle reminded him. »And your people have shut them down.« The accusation in her voice was unmistakable.
»My people? What do you mean with my people?« O’Neil asked without taking his eyes off the dead screen.
»You people, your fellow Republicans, whoever...«
»I voted against the Human Dignity Bill in case you forgot,« O’Neil reminded her.
In the meantime I noticed that the allocation of the food vouchers had not arrived on my smartphone, although it was already Tuesday. Normally they were allocated every Monday via the smartphones and you could then print them out on any computer and use them as payment in the supermarkets. Also most supermarkets were still closed, as I had noticed on my last trip to the city. Only a few smaller shops were open, and they only sold against black market currencies. This meant the food stamp system was about to collapse, too. But what were we going to do with the vouchers anyway, when the shops that accepted them were closed?
I reported my observation to the others, but they took no notice. It wasn’t surprising that Anabelle didn’t care, since she didn’t need any food to begin with.
O’Neil cursed the broken down Internet connection. »Damn it! How am I supposed to make the transfer from Tortola to my local bank now? I’m running out of cash here.« The government still paid the members of Congress in dollars, as well as all the other public servants. And, of course, these dollar accounts were completely worthless, since they were no longer accepted as currency anywhere.
I had not returned to my apartment for days, but had sl
ept on the sofa here in the office. Anabelle didn’t sleep at all, and just went to stand-by mode while sitting in some armchair. We had formed some kind of apartment sharing commune here. There was no more public transportation, and even private vehicles were hardly to be seen on the roads. O’Neil didn’t want to lend me his car either, because there was only little hydrogen left in the tank and we didn’t know when and where we could fill it up again. So I stayed here. Since there were no other guards in the building, after Will Snyder had also just gone home, I was the only one responsible for the security of the senator. So I couldn’t just leave him alone here.
It was cold in here. The heating didn’t work anymore and we had to leave the upper hatches of the windows open, because the ventilation had failed and we didn’t want to suffocate.
I heard a knock on the fire escape door in the next room. »There’s someone here,« I said to O’Neil.
»Anabelle, go upstairs to my apartment,« O’Neil said. »You’re better not seen here.« The android nodded and went up the spiral staircase.
In the meantime, I had pulled out my gun and went into the office to see who had knocked. O’Neil followed me. I saw two men in black suits and reflecting sunglasses standing outside on the fire escape. Without letting the gun out of my hand I opened the door.
The first man showed me his identification. »Special Agent Lincoln, U. S. Secret Service,« he introduced himself.
I only took a quick look at his identification, as I didn’t want to fall for a cheap diversion. »What do you want?« I asked him without lowering my gun.
»Is the Senator here?« asked Agent Lincoln.
»I’m Senator Neil O’Neil,« the man they were looking for introduced himself.
»I have a message here from Senator Jameson to deliver to you.«
»Senator Jameson?« said O’Neil excitedly and grabbed the envelope the agent handed him. »Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get in touch with him? Let me see that.« He opened the envelope, pulled out the paper and skimmed over it.
»Since when does the Secret Service run errands for the Senate?« I wondered.
»President’s order. Some things are not working as they should at the moment,« replied the man who had been the only one of the two visitors to speak so far.
»Can I see your ID again?« I asked, slowly putting my gun away. The man I was talking to handed it to me. It looked authentic. I tried to check the number with my smartphone, but I couldn’t get a network connection. So I just had to trust its authenticity.
»Jameson wants our senators to meet at the White House,« O’Neil said. »All right, I’ll go with you. Wait a minute here!«
O’Neil pulled me aside and we went back to the reception area of his office, out of earshot of the two agents. The hum of the small generator made his words inaudible to them. »Jameson, the Senate Majority Leader wants all GOP representatives to meet in the White House,« O’Neil told me in a hushed voice. »I don’t know how long this will take, but it is important. Listen to me, Dexter! I want you to take care of Miss Palmer’s safety. She can’t stay here. It’s too dangerous. If any government employee finds an android with me, there could be problems. It’s safer when you take her to your home. Just wait until I’m gone. Do you think you can do that?«
»Do you trust these two agents?« I asked. »This all seems a bit unusual. I don’t like leaving you alone with them.«
»That’s all right,« O’Neil reassured me. »Take care of Miss Palmer. That’s an order.«
I nodded. If it was an official order, then I could not object any further. I hoped he knew what he was doing. Somehow I was suspicious of the new President. What if he wanted to eliminate the annoying Senate? But O’Neil had to be a better judge of the situation than I was.
He packed up some papers from his secretary’s desk and put on a jacket. Before he went to the two agents in the office next door, he said to me: »We’ll be in touch.«
»What if the telephone network breaks down too? How am I supposed to reach you then?« I interjected.
»Mr. Dexter, you’ll be able to reach me. It shouldn’t be too difficult to locate a United States senator.« He went to the two agents and followed them out onto the fire escape. Anabelle and I were left alone in the apartment.
He told me to bring Anabelle to my apartment for safekeeping. It was probably a sensible suggestion, although I doubted that my apartment was really safe. But nobody would go looking for an android there. And most importantly, her presence in a senator’s home could get him in serious trouble.
I waited until I saw the two agents’ black car driving off with O’Neil. I could watch it from the window of the small office. Then I went upstairs to Anabelle Palmer and explained what Neil O’Neil had ordered.
We prepared for our departure. I took another big sip of that whiskey at O’Neil’s liquor cabinet. Anabelle put on her raincoat and sunglasses. It was still raining slightly. So her raincoat shouldn’t look suspicious. It would hide any robotic patterns of her movements. Although she usually moved so naturally that she could easily pass as a human, her movements sometimes looked a little too perfect, so that they could at least arouse suspicion. She had something of a model walking on a catwalk. Maybe that had been the template for her standard movement pattern. For an ordinary woman walking on the street, it would look a little unnatural. But under the wide coat, it wouldn’t draw any attention.
I put on a shoulder holster, although I usually just carried my pistol in my trouser belt. But this time I screwed the silencer on it, and for that I needed the specially made holster, because the barrel was now too long to simply put it into the pants. Anabelle recharged her batteries one last time, and we did the same with our smartphones. In my apartment, I wasn’t expecting power. So it wasn’t sure when we would get another chance.
»How long will your batteries last?« I asked Anabelle.
»It depends,« she replied. »Depending on what I have to do physically, between six hours and three days if I just sit around.«
»As soon as we get to my house, I want you to go on stand-by until I’ve organized a power source,« I said. She nodded.
We left the apartment and went down the fire escape.
There were even fewer cars on the road than in the last few days. In fact, I couldn’t see any at all, except for a National Guard Humvee. Either people had run out of ethanol or hydrogen or they were afraid that their car could be attacked and destroyed by Neo-Luddite rioters. As we walked through the streets, we only saw a few shops open. And long lines had formed in front of each. A large group of people had gathered in front of a National Guard armored vehicle that was guarding a roadblock, demanding their food vouchers. They didn’t seem to understand that the soldiers had no saying in that. For them, however, they were representatives of the government on whom they could vent their anger. I showed my smartphone, identified myself as the bodyguard of a senator who had a Class III security clearance, and we were quickly let by.
As I was passing by, I heard two guardsmen talking about the fact that they had not had a hot meal for days and had to live on their march rations. Apparently the Guard suffered from major logistical problems, which were apparently ignored by the government.
Up to Pennsylvania Avenue, which led over the John-Phillip-Sousa Bridge, we had hardly any problems. The National Guard had more or less everything under control. However, we saw a few protests of dissatisfied citizens, either about the lack of food or about the continuing blackout and the interruption of the water supply. A few people threw objects against government buildings until the first uniformed men showed up and they fled.
I noticed that almost all electronics stores and offices of phone companies had been vandalized. The interior was burnt out and debris of destroyed showcases and electronic equipment lay around. The remains of a guard robot lay outside the entrance of a Verizon branch. It had been so thoroughly smashed up that no one would be able to repair it.
The wreck of a burnt-out bus blocke
d the driveway to the bridge. No one had bothered to get the wreck out of the way and clear the road. This was proof that all traffic on the other side had probably come to a standstill. We passed the wreck of the bus and crossed the bridge. We were not the only ones on foot today. That was good, because that way we wouldn’t attract attention anymore. I saw a family pushing an old shopping trolley in which they had collected all kinds of things on the street and in the destroyed shops they thought they could use.
It was cold. Especially the strong wind on the bridge made me shiver. Anabelle didn’t have that problem. As long as the temperatures didn’t drop far below the freezing point, it didn’t affect her functions in any way.
When we had reached about the middle of the bridge, we suddenly heard some explosions in the distance. Just like the other people on the bridge, we turned around to see what had happened. We saw some smoke clouds rising in the north. Two fighter jets raced low over the sky. I identified them as F-35B Mk II fighter drones. So they were part of the U. S. Air Force. But I didn’t understand what that meant. Why was the Air Force bombing targets in Washington, D. C.? Something weird was going on, but what? I tried to locate where the bombs had hit, but I wasn’t sure. Concluding from the direction, it might have been near the National Guard armory near Robert F. Kennedy Stadium. Was the Air Force fighting the National Guard? Was this the beginning of a civil war? Or was the National Guard threatened by an organized attack and had requested air support? Either way, it was nothing good that was going on there.
At the end of the bridge we saw again a roadblock of the National Guard. It consisted of a truck placed across the bridge, two armored Humvees and several heavily armed soldiers. The passers-by crossing the bridge formed a queue and were checked one by one by the soldiers. We joined the queue and waited our turn.
Crusade Against the Machines Page 25