The Free Citizen

by T. J. Sedgwick

  18

  Genocide is not just a murderous madness; it is, more deeply, a politics that promises a utopia beyond politics - one people, one land, one truth, the end of difference. Since genocide is a form of political utopia, it remains an enduring temptation in any multiethnic and multicultural society in crisis.

  Michael Ignatieff

  T he supersonic VTOL jet lifted off from the snow-covered lawn outside the White House, flying through the wintery night to the mountains, to what used to be called Colorado. Had the sky been clear, Rae would’ve seen the country below as a dark wilderness. Only Kansas City and Denver were anywhere near the flight path. Every other city was in ruins or a hunting ground for Servile soldiers and killer drones. He had been there, serving the Regime, hunting high-value targets, training Regime units. Still, half a decade after Citizens were confined to Sanctuary Cities, millions of so-called Illegals subsisted in the Badlands. To White, Illegals were like cockroaches to be eradicated. They’d been trying since the Sanctuaries Act 2077, which codified the division of the country into zones and suspended human rights. That had come after the Renaissance in 2074. The USA became the American Union, the US Constitution replaced with the Renaissance Constitution. Amongst other travesties, it meant abolishing the presidential term limit, presidential veto on political candidates, the right of the president to restrict the franchise and an oath of allegiance to the revolution. Stooges from the Nation First Party were installed in all key positions. Supreme Court judges mysteriously died one after the other to be replaced by shills. Emergency powers were freely misused. All these new, key people were white, such was the racist ideology Nation First pedaled. The military, intelligence and law enforcement went the same way. President White and his party had engineered a dictatorship.

  Less than an hour later, the flood-lit entrance at foot of the mountain appeared through low cloud as Rae descended in the VTOL jet. An outer security gate of high steel fencing, razor wire and guard towers spanned the road entering the tunnel. Either side, a narrowing wedge hewn from granite led to a tunnel wide enough for a tank. Blast doors sealed the tunnel entrance; a pair of armored fighting vehicles kept watch either side. He felt the bump of touchdown and minutes later, a young Airman with Space Command insignia escorted him to security in an electric bubble cart. ‘Travis,’ read his nametape, but Travis had clearly been ordered to say as little as possible and spent the short trip from plane to security gate with eyes fixed on the sub-machine gun resting in his lap. They reached the outer gate.

  “Step out please, sir,” said Travis. “Walk through the scanner over there.”

  Rae stepped inside the full-body scanner. The doors closed and a vortex of air swirled gently around him. An AI voice guided him through the retinal scanner, fingerprint and vein-pattern scanner, along with a connection to his mindchip. The chemical trace elements test found cordite but exempted him as a member of the armed forces. An x-ray and EHF body scan checked for weapons, explosive devices and the like.

  A military drone hovered overhead as he left the scanner and rejoined Airman Travis, passing through the two security gates in the buggy towards the opening blast doors. The wind blew, kicking up powdery snow, a minor blizzard swirling around in the frigid mountain air. They entered the tunnel, its floor painted gray, bare concrete walls and exposed piping and electrical trays running over head beside bright LED lighting. The fifteen-meter-wide passage ran half a football field to its end where another armored fighting vehicle stood sentry. Soldiers and airmen walked purposefully along, into and out of side entrances.

  “Where are we going?” said Rae.

  “I’ve been instructed to take you to Major Dudek.”

  Dudek? What the hell? What’s he doing here?

  Rae had hoped he’d seen the last of him in Chicago. He’d seemed satisfied with his story about how the Alliance had contacted him and that his mindchip had passed diagnostics. This could only spell trouble.

  What does he want now?

  He knew there was no point asking a low-level grunt like Travis.

  They took a left down a branch half-way down the main tunnel and stopped outside a set of double doors. Travis led him through a maze of corridors, past closed doors, conference rooms, offices and then several doors labelled as laboratories. To Rae’s surprise, Travis ignored the one marked AI Lab, instead leading him to the Cybernetics Lab. They entered the bright, clean, predominantly white space of lab benches, computer equipment and machines, none of which Rae recognized. On the left, they passed a glass-walled bio-containment-type lab with hazard-suited researchers and bio-containment cabinets. There was some kind of decontamination ante-room behind the entrance. The placard to the suite read, Nanite Research.

  At the end of the Cybernetics Lab was a door marked, Examination Room 1. The door opened and out stepped the small, bespectacled Dudek. An arrogant smirk from the murdering spook, greeted Rae. Dudek held out his arms like he was welcoming an old friend.

  “Ah, wonderful to see you again so soon, Captain!”

  Rae followed protocol, standing to attention then chanted the mantra of the brainwashed: “Hail President White! Hail the Renaissance! Freedom Through Struggle!”

  Don’t give the prick a reason…

  Travis did the same. Dudek repeated the mantra, smiling, eyeing Rae, ignoring Travis.

  “I really felt like we hit it off last time,” said Dudek. “Tell me, how did it feel meeting our great leader?”

  “Sir, it was a great honor to meet Mr President,” said Rae emotionlessly.

  “Off you go, Airman Travis,” said Dudek dismissively, not looking at him.

  Travis turned and marched off, leaving Rae alone with the psychopath outside the small examination room.

  “Come in,” said Dudek, leading him into the room, which reminded Rae of a doctor’s office with its desk and bed and a range of scanning devices. A middle-aged woman, dark hair in a bun and soulless, dead eyes sat behind the desk, manipulating the small panel attached by cable to a brushed steel skull cap.

  “That is a high-fidelity neural implant interface,” said Dudek.

  “Why is it required, sir?” said Rae. “I was instructed by the president to assist with ASTRA.”

  “And indeed, you will be. But let’s just say I don’t take things at face value, Captain. I’m a very cautious man—it’s how you stay alive in my business. I’m sure you know that though.”

  “Yessir.”

  What’s this scan going to reveal?

  The doctor got up holding the skull-cap device as Rae eyed the sidearm in Dudek’s holster. A non-networked .45cal semi-auto—standard issue for officers and intelligence staff. Network-connected weapons were too vulnerable to hacking and tracking for guys like this. The trade-off was they couldn’t be shut off remotely. He visualized what he’d like to do to the bastard—how he’d snap his neck without remorse. He’d spare the doctor if he could. But then what? Even if he managed to escape, they’d still have ASTRA.

  “I said, please sit on the bed,” said the doctor insistently, rousing him from his daydream.

  “Oh sorry, ma’am,” said Rae as Dudek watched him suspiciously.

  Rae sat on the bed and the doctor drew the curtain around him.

  “The skull cap will allow complete download of all audio-visual data you have experienced,” said the doctor.

  Shit! What did I say to Dr Muller via the wasp drone relay? Can they read mind-speak too? The doc said audio-visual—thoughts aren’t recorded by the chip, right? A sense of growing dread came over him.

  “Last twenty-four hours only,” said Dudek. “Otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

  She strapped the cold metal cap onto his recently-shaven head, pressed something on the control panel, then sat back down and waited, staring at the wall. Perhaps she was having a mind-conversation and looking at something on a build-in retinal display.

  Dudek drew back the curtain around the bed and leant on the wall opposite Rae. A taunting smile
grew over the bastard’s face.

  “You know the trouble with you, Captain?”

  “No, sir.”

  It pained him to use sir.

  “You love someone. You love your beautiful wife. Big mistake, big weakness in our game, Captain.”

  “Really, sir?”

  “Yes, it’s leverage. I’ve always been opposed to our intel staff and Special Forces having loved ones. But softer men have so far prevailed. It’s a privilege afforded to all Citizens, apparently.”

  “Yessir.”

  “But I suppose every cloud has a silver lining. That leverage isn’t just for the enemy to use. Take you for example. Cora has been key to reining you in. And, if your behavior is found wanting in anyway, there’s plenty more we can do with said leverage. Hell, we sometimes go after overseas family members.”

  Don’t you dare…

  “How are you parents by the way? New Zealand isn’t it, Captain?”

  Bastard.

  “I don’t know, sir,” he said, truthfully. He’d not spoken to them in years. Thoughts of them had only resurfaced after the Erasmus mission. Since then, only the whirlwind of events had distracted him from the longing to contact his mother and father. The mindchip had a way of diluting emotional connections which hadn’t been mapped by its social network algorithms. Yet another method of control. The more he thought about it, the more the technology frightened him.

  Totalitarian.

  His parents had done the smart thing and quit the country after the Renaissance. In retrospect, he wished he’d done the same and spared himself from this nightmare.

  “Yes, out of sight out of mindchip,” said Dudek, chuckling.

  “We have the results,” said the doctor. “Would you like to review them, sir?”

  “Yes,” said Dudek. “Direct transfer.”

  Rae watched as he became still, standing bolt upright, eyes glazed, focusing on some distant point.

  Regarding the vile little man, he’d seen this weird behavior many times before—it was mind’s-eye-and-ear playback, a high-speed review of the last twenty-four hours of Rae’s life.

  Time dragged as the two mind-zombies worked in their internal worlds. Even at high-speed, Dudek’s mind would need to assimilate what he saw and heard. Rae would just need to wait in hope that the bastard didn’t find anything incriminating. The doctor was similarly staring into the ether, every so often her lips silently aping speech.

  Cal, this is Stephanie Muller, said the voice in his head.

  Where are you?… I mean, where’s the wasp-drone? Rae replied in his mind.

  We’ve managed to infiltrate the HVAC system.

  Major William Dudek is—

  Yes, we’ve been listening in. Sit tight. Don’t react.

  I won’t—not yet.

  What happened when you met Dictator White?

  He’s convinced my mindchip’s working, so he was open.

  Go ahead, Cal. Tell me what you learned.

  Here’s the plan. It’s bad, very bad…

  He outlined what White had said: about using ASTRA to nullify enemy defenses; about the full-scale nanite attack and how it spares only chipped Citizens and Serviles—C-Day, the Day of Cleansing; on the operational snippets he’d managed to glean. He concluded with what President White had said.

  “Control ASTRA, win the cyberwar. Win the cyberwar and the enemy will kneel before us.”

  There was a pause before Dr Muller replied. When she did, her voice betrayed an uneasy nervousness.

  This… This has already been helpful. We thank you. Did he divulge anything else?

  No, I couldn’t probe too much without arousing suspicion.

  I understand. You did very well.

  Now they’ve sent me here expecting me to solve their problems with ASTRA. I’m not an expert. And I’ve had to act as if my mindchip’s working, but Dudek’s all over me. He smells a rat.

  Just sit tight. We have faith in you, Cal. And there’s a friendly there—

  Who? Where?

  Our other source in the bunker went dark thirty-six hours ago. We believe she’s been caught. Now we’ve lost track of ASTRA. We can’t get the wasp-drone into anywhere with a filtered-air system. Unfortunately, that means most of the labs. So, in a few seconds the wasp-drone sitting in the vent above your head is going to come to you. Open your mouth and let it fly in. Don’t worry, it will still work so long as you don’t crush it.

  Acknowledged, he mind-spoke, before opening his mouth.

  The wasp buzzed quietly from the vent, flying straight into his mouth. Dudek and the doctor remained locked in their mind’s eye. The tiny drone landed on his tongue and the vibration of the wings ceased. He tucked it at the side of his lower gum. Uncomfortable, but concealed. He wondered how visible the lump would be and whether the vigilant Dudek would notice.

  Can you still hear me, Cal?

  Loud and clear.

  Your secondary objective is to locate our other asset.

  Dr Muller’s voice trailed off. There was a pause.

  There’s… something I need to tell you about our other asset—the one that we’ve lost contact with. She’s—

  “Wakey, wakey, Captain!” said Dudek, clicking his fingers in front of Rae’s face.

  He straightened up, cleared his throat.

  “Yessir. Just… daydreaming.”

  “Hmm… Well, I’ve reviewed the download and have a few… queries.”

  Dudek paused, his probing eyes meeting Rae’s.

  “You were at the air terminal in Chicago earlier today.”

  “Yessir.”

  “At around 1620 hours you were waiting at the departure gate.”

  Rae nodded.

  “At 1622 hours you said, and I quote, Where are you? followed by, I can’t see you.”

  Rae felt his muscles tense, his pulse quickened as the interrogator let it sink in.

  He said nothing.

  “And Captain, the visual recording shows that your eyes were searching—first around you, then above you. Strange, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I thought I heard someone call my name, but I must’ve been mistaken.”

  “Really?” he said with a wry smile.

  “Yessir.”

  “You know, it’s a shame we can’t yet record thoughts too, except in very rudimentary ways. Maybe this final frontier will be reached with the next generation of implants. You will be high on the list for one of those, Captain. Imagine—no disloyalty, all Citizens working in unison.”

  All free thought extinguished.

  “Anything else, sir?”

  Dudek seemed to mull things over.

  “No, but I’ve sent the audio-visual file to HQ for further analysis,” he said. “We believe you can help the team in getting ASTRA up and running. We know you spoke with Dr Muller before she escaped, and you may have seen something about how the sphere was set up. Unfortunately, your neutral implant was corrupted on Erasmus, so recorded data was not available. I suppose we’ll need to rely on your organic memories.”

  “I believe I can help, sir,” said Rae.

  Got to get close to ASTRA.

  “Good, I knew you could. You know, General Hood was initially opposed to you coming here—said you’re just a hired gun. What would he know about ASTRA? he told me. But I believe you can help.”

  He smiled and patted Rae on the shoulder all buddy-buddy.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said.

  “Come on, I have something to show you before we take a look at ASTRA.”

  Dudek led the way out of the examination room and down the corridor. They stopped outside the glass-fronted Nanite Research lab.

  The frosted glass door slid aside. To the side of the ante-room was a door marked, Nanite Security.

  “Decontamination suite,” said Dudek. “We don’t need to worry about the nanites too much because they recognize our neural implants. Now it will only kill those without mindchips. In other words, non-Citizens and non-Serviles. Howe
ver, we’ll still wear biohazard suits and decontaminate when we leave—we still need to prevent release into the environment until C-Day. Follow me.”

  Rae followed Dudek in. To Rae, it looked a lot like a locker room with white biohazard suits of various sizes hanging on the wall. To the left were three cubicles, each marked, Decontamination Booth. He hung up his jacket and left his peaked cap in one of the lockers before donning the biohazard suit. The moment he sealed the suit, he felt the flow of air from its filtering system.

  Rae heard the voice of the small, white-suited Dudek through the suit’s built-in comms link.

  “Follow me,” said Dudek, leading him to a translucent glass door, which is when Rae noticed the dark object not fully concealed in Dudek’s bio-suit pocket. It was the grip of his handgun.

  This is a comms check, came the voice of Dr Muller in his mind.

  I hear you loud and clear, he mind-spoke in response, no longer troubled by the tiny metallic wasp drone hidden beside his gum.

  Updates?

  Dudek’s leading me into the nanite research lab. He’s taken his handgun. He still doesn’t trust me.

  Acknowledged.

  I don’t know why he’s bringing me here when it’s ASTRA they want me for.

  We don’t know either, but we need to get all the intel we can. Open your mouth and let out the wasp.

  He realized the wasp drone would be hard to spot inside the dark of the bio-suit hood. Using his tongue to work the wasp free, he felt and heard the buzz of its wings as it dried itself ready for flight. It hovered from his mouth across the few inches to the hood, landing just below the visor.

  Confirming visual feed, said Dr Muller to his mind.

  Rae kept quiet as the door slid open and revealed the brightly-lit lab with its central bank of stainless-steel benches, containment cabinets and bio-suited researchers working at displays and microscopes and with lab equipment. On either side of the ten-meter wide, thirty-meter long central lab area were five glass-walled enclosures—ten in total. Only the two closest on the left had fully transparent glass—frosted, translucent glass walls and doors obscured the other eight cells. The three-by-three-meter transparent cell on his left contained at least a dozen dogs of different sizes and breeds. Most of them slouched around bored or sleeping, but they were all healthy as far as he could tell. Two of the smaller ones fought playfully. Another ate food from a bowl. There were an assortment of dog toys and a couple of balls for them to play with.