Free evolutionists gathered for mandatory updates on the first Wednesday of every month. There was a message-tree warning system in case of cancellation, but that rarely happened. The group remained carefully under the radar, though that wouldn’t last long once their plans came to fruition.
Those intentions became the thrust of most monthly sessions, battling between the yeahs and the nays, and the wafflers who thought they should hold off for a better opportunity. Alixs had no strong opinion on the matter. Still undecided as far as signing on was concerned, he didn’t feel it appropriate to jump into the fray.
As far as timing was concerned, Alixs sensed that Liam knew more than he was able to share. Liam’s sense of urgency was tangible, but in his haste he seemed to be driving people into one camp or another, further dividing them instead of bringing them together.
“We need to take the advantage!” Sam bellowed, interrupting the xeno who had the floor. Sam rarely concerned himself with the rules, and he was given some leeway due to his friendship with Liam. But today he was pushing the limits.
“So we can all get ourselves arrested? Is that what you want?” This was Nox, another of Liam’s inner circle, and a more level headed, calculating sort of idealist. “What’s wrong with waiting until we have more—”
“More what, Nox?” Sam interrupted. “More oppressive legislation? More bodies on the floor.”
“Come on, Sam,” Jem broke in, stopping the argument. “Enough with the hyperbole. They’re no more oppressive now than they’ve ever been. And before we do anything, we need more manpower anyway. On that note, how are we doing with this month’s recruiting drive?” He turned to Nox, who was in charge of the recruiting. This, too, was calculated to soften the blow of the interruption. Jem had a talent for making everyone feel needed.
The topic having turned, Nox gave a brief rundown of the recruiting situation. There was no recruitment to the inner circle, that was strictly invitation-only, and the books were closed. Alixs would be the last, assuming he officially got onboard. But they still needed voices on the street, xenos willing to spread the word, let the people know what they were up against. They talked about naming this sub-group last time. Sam suggested “Free-for-All”, which brought up a laugh. He was good that way, his hot temper softened by a quick wit.
ALIXS CONTINUED TO contribute little to the monthly meetings, as he was still working to find his footing and his place. After the first meeting, he’d spoken to Liam once more and committed to a trial membership, but with no strong commitment for now. He felt welcomed enough, though, by the others. It wasn’t like they expected anyone to shut up and sit back. Liam did ask for his input as well, before and during, but he either demurred or else agreed with one side or the other, without additional comment. The personality clashes were epic enough without throwing his two-cents into the mix, and Alixs felt more comfortable remaining in newbie shoes for a while longer.
Not that this meant he had no opinions. On the contrary, he was forming stronger leanings and loyalties every time they met. Although he was a Liam acolyte by philosophy and by choice, there were other strong voices in the movement, some strong enough to challenge the leadership structure. Not right now, or even this year, but a power struggle seemed imminent. Alixs often wondered which side he would take, but his views never strayed far from Liam’s.
Still, others like Jem had a lot to say, and a different method of approach that appealed strongly. Even Sam, with his bombastic aggression, showed glimmers of leadership potential now and then, and an eye for strategy. No wonder those two were in positions of power under Liam. A lesser commander would have kept them down, unwilling to share the spotlight, or afraid of losing power. But Liam was a confident leader, and he had a knack for selecting the best xeno for the job. That was one of the things Alixs admired about him.
ON THE HEELS OF A PARTICULARLY grueling meeting, with tempers flaring over minutia even more than usual, Liam had invited the stragglers to join him at Town & Sounds for ‘ancient acoustics’ night. This was a difficult invitation to pass up. Instrumentalists sans software were a rare and special treat, particularly in Tera-Prime where the talent pool was noticeably shallow. The manager of Town & Sounds had invited in human performers for the occasion, and the chance to unwind and get to know each other outside the ideological confines of the meeting was enticing. Though the ability to talk of their association was strictly forbidden, there was never any shortage of topics, and friendships grew quickly on these rare occasions when they were able to socialize.
Sam was the most fun to hang out with, albeit on the cusp of rowdy at times with his loud stories, not to mention flashes of temper at any waitstaff too slow for his liking. He was a generous tipper, though, so they took care of him most of the time.
Tonight, with Sam holding court, and Liam distracted by a new lady-friend Alixs didn’t know, he wound up talking with several of the freevos he hadn’t gotten to know very well yet. He was surprised to learn that he and Nox had grown up not six blocks from each other back in their primary education days.
“No way! You went to Samuel Higher-Ed then?”
“No, my housing’d been reassigned by then. I went to Lincoln.”
That was way across town. “Must have been tough, switching up like that.”
“Not really. Everyone went through it back then. The city expansion was in full swing, and the old zones were filling up with executives and engineers. You’re lucky you got to stay in one place, really.”
Alixs hadn’t thought about any of the city dynamics, though he’d learned enough of it in civics class. With Nox being a half-generation older, there were enough differences to make any comparison mildly interesting. “I guess. The city was pretty much finished by the time I was assigned. I wouldn’t have minded a change of scenery now and then, though.”
Nox laughed. “You just may get your wish, if you stick around for the big show.”
Liam shot the pair a warning glance. No freevo talk.
They laughed it off, a little nervously. Liam could be plenty intimidating when he wanted to be. With one more glance, Liam went back to his date, Alixs and Nox finished their conversation, and Nox got up to get a better look at the stage.
Alixs spent the next hour engaged in some fairly intimate, ‘getting to know you’ chats. He was asked twice whether he was seeing anyone. No. Anyone special in mind? Not right this moment. Recent breakup got you down? Not really. The two asking the questions were young female freevos, recently single and totally happy about it. And, if he was reading the signals right, both mildly interested in him.
They were pretty, confident and personable, like most freevos, and he would’ve enjoyed dating either one, under better circumstances. It wasn’t like he was looking to remain single and celibate forever, nor did he harbor some deep philosophical reason for his lack of interest. The more he thought about it, though, the stronger his convictions seemed to grow, and he realized that his attachment to the freevos had to take priority. He was wary of the dangers of a casual fling, particularly in a close-knit group. And yet the subversive nature of their movement made deeper commitments difficult to manage, and there were very few serious relationships.
Alixs realized then and there that he wasn’t going to be seeing any freevo girls, no matter how pretty and personable. But that didn’t have to stop him from having fun. He enjoyed harmless flirtation as much as the next xeno. Throwing caution to the wind, he ordered up a round of refreshment for himself and the girls, and allowed the freedom of the moment to take over for a while.
21.
Jem was standing on a rock, pounding fist into palm. “It has to be done now. What choice do we have? You all saw the interrogation!”
A mumble went around the room, difficult to read. Whether that meant agreement or otherwise was anybody’s guess.
“But what if they know more than they let on to Alixs?” Liam called out from the back of the chamber. “For all we know, they’re on to us already,
just waiting for us to make a stupid move.”
“Let ‘em try!” Sam shouted, standing.
Jem shushed him. “Liam, they’re coming after us anyway, aren’t they?” he said. “Didn’t the interrogation prove as much?”
Liam said nothing, but his expression was sympathetic.
“And as long as they’re coming after us anyway,”—Jem began to pace, working the room—“can’t we at least take a shot at them while we have the chance?”
This elicited more murmurs, and a few claps of approval. The others had been waiting for their moment for a long time — tired of sitting and talking, and debating endlessly about the unfairness of it all.
“We have what we need, thanks to the archivist, and we can strike a real blow. But if we wait too long...” Jem allowed his words to hang in the air, looking as if he might say more, but then he abruptly sat down.
As the others settled, Liam cleared his throat, ready to speak. He didn’t move to the front of the room, so the rest of them turned in his direction, causing a ghostly sort of tap-echo along the walls.
LIAM HAD SPENT MOST of his sleepless night trying to come up with words of inspiration, or at least words that didn’t ring hollow in his own mind. He was beginning to feel the real weight of leadership, along with the realization that he was too inexperienced for the burden.
But leadership had been thrust upon him, and he accepted that. He only wished that some of his old mentors were still around. The remaining generation gap was significant — he felt like a child leading children. Most of the elders had passed on, or else helped in peripheral ways, like the Ahmis. None were in the thick of it anymore. It was to be youthful rebellion, or none at all, and it all hinged on what direction he urged his fellows to take. And even he didn’t know it until he began to speak.
“I think most of you know I’ve been dreading this.” His deadpan delivery took them by surprise. There were a few laughs, but most stayed silent.
“My friend, my brother Jem, makes a good argument. If we strike now, we stand a chance of making history; of bringing in thousands more to our cause, and allowing the genuine evolution of our race to occur.”
He could feel the energy in the room begin to shift. Most of them had probably expected him to oppose Jem, the voice of reason, advising restraint. But he didn’t feel like being restrained any more. He realized now that his job was to rally the troops. But he had to warn them first.
“Let’s not kid ourselves, the odds aren’t in our favor. Powerful forces are working against us. Even now, right now, powerful interests want to pawn us off as anarchists. Or better yet, brand us as terrorists.” He stopped, allowing the vague echo of the forbidden word to rebound off the walls.
“But they’re not going to get away with it!” he said with sudden gusto.
Damn right! came a shout from the back. There were nods going around, and voices of support.
“We’re not going to let them corrupt our purpose, or twist our intentions. We are not terrorists.”
No we’re not!
“We are not anarchists.”
Emotion swelled, the applause and the cheers lifting his spirit, pushing him through. For the first time, he began to feel as though he had them, really had them. They believed in him, and would fight for him.
“And we’re going to show the people what we really are, and we’re going to expose the government for who they really are...”
His voice on the rise, still he had to shout to hear himself over his small army of supporters. “Because it’s our destiny to show our people the way forward, to a new era, a xeno era. It’s our time, and we will fight! And we will win!”
The room erupted into cheers. Those closest to Liam, led by a beaming Jem, reached for him and lifted him up in their enthusiasm. Looking down at the room full of followers, he pumped his fist in the air and smiled broadly, raising the level of enthusiasm even higher. But with a twinge that wiped the grin off his face, he realized that this was just the easiest part. With an effort, he smiled again and allowed their enthusiasm to wash over him, trying to enjoy the moment. He had a feeling this would be the last chance for celebration for a while, no matter what happened next.
22.
The chief of peace was first up, giving a briefing on recent, seditious activities. But before he was allowed to speak, a roll-call was taken. Carefully crafted situational updates were handed out, apparently for the attendees, but they read more like something intended for media consumption. All major government officials were present, from the first administrator on down, with several ranking members of the citizens committee who were usually excluded. The first administrator obviously wanted to make a show of his accomplishments, which also explained why the chief and several of his lieutenants were lined up behind the executive desk. It didn’t suit the office, nor the leader himself, who was rather academic. Hardly a striking, militant sort of effect. In fact, the large group of law enforcement heavyweights lined up behind his back made him look something like a criminal about to be arrested. But he seemed oblivious to the optics.
“Chief of Peace Cain, if you would be so kind.” The first administrator made an awkward motion, half-rising, half-turning to invite the chief forward, then sitting back down again when the chief stepped up. This made the administrator look even more out of place, and his advisor hurried to the front of the room and whispered something to that effect. This prompted the administrator to stand up and step back into line with the peace forcers.
“Recent surveillance of the dissident group known as free evolution prompted an accelerated investigation of dissident activities. This is based on recent chatter, and information from an internal source. Information related to an attempted media takeover attempt lead to our decision to move in on the group, as well as several of their covert facilities. In addition, we uncovered an information center hidden within our own city archives, which has now been catalogued and dismantled.”
“Leaders of the group,” he continued in a kind of drone, “were able to avoid apprehension, though several minor couriers and soldiers were arrested during the operation.”
One of the advisors raised a hand. The chief attempted to ignore it for a minute, but it was too distracting. “Yes...what is it?”
“Well, I was just wondering about the rumors going around.”
“What rumors are you referring to?” the chief snapped, the briefing papers in his clutched fist crinkling up as he closed his grip.
The advisor explained; “It’s my understanding that these free evolutionists have been expanding for some time, that they have associates outside the city, and that most of them may have escaped by now.”
The chief nodded, made sure the advisor was finished, then looked around the room as if daring anyone else to speak up. His gaze didn’t miss the first administrator positioned behind him, either.
“Okay, first of all,” the chief began, “when you say associates, I’m sure you’re referring to their fellow terrorists. And if such individuals do exist, they’ll be found and arrested. As for their supposed expansion, there have been splinter groups out there since the founding of the city — mostly ineffectual — and this is the first group who’ve attempted any sort of organized uprising.” He stopped for a minute, allowing it to sink in.
“So to answer your question,” he finally went on, “I wouldn’t put too much stock in the notion they’re anything more than a disorganized band of malcontents.”
“Finally, as far as escaping the city, that has not happened, and will not happen. We’ll get them first.”
“OKAY, BRING THE loakters online. Let’s see what they can do.”
The tech team sprang into action, manning their stations and calling out instructions, eager to impress the boss. But one of them didn’t seem to be paying attention, instead staring at Cain with a quizzical look.
“Did you say ‘Loak-Ters’?”
Cain cocked his head at the technician. Normally they never spoke directly to
him, and for good reason. “Come again?” He used a casual phrase, almost friendly. But his tone was dangerous.
“My zepto-swarm. You called them Loak-Ters, didn’t you?”
His colleagues were beginning to take notice, warning him off with head shakes, but he paid them no mind. He laughed, acting as though he were on friendly terms with the chief. “Oh, I see what you did there!”
Now Cain was becoming amused himself, wondering how deeply this young technician would dig before noting the grave rising up around him. He nodded, allowing the poor idiot to continue on.
“It’s a weird spelling. Well, an acronym really. It’s short for LOw altitude Kilometer range Tracker, but it pronounces right if you change the phonics. Think of it like this: capital L, lowercase O, capital K, capital T and finish with a lowercase R — and that way you can see how it can be pronounced locator.” The silence that followed shrank him down fast, and his voice trailed off as he looked around the room. “Right?”
Cain said nothing. The lead technician rose from his position and started for the loudmouth, all but ready to dismiss him from the project, or worse. But the chief halted him with a raised palm, sending the lead slinking back, looking fearful for his own situation.
Suddenly, forcefully, Cain gave a belly-laugh that caused nearly all the assembled workers to jump, then relax, the tension shattered. “Okay, then — locators. Turn ‘em on, and let’s see what your locators are capable of.”
Smiling, the tech swiveled back into position and began the test. Cain watched out of the corner of his eye. Might as well enjoy your day, he thought in the direction of the youngster. It’s the last one you’ll have under my watch. He switched on a mental alarm, to arrange for his dismissal after the demonstration was finished. And his boss as well, for allowing such a disturbance to take place. Then he laughed again, this time under his breath, and watched the Loktr demonstration with increasing interest.
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