by Brandt Legg
“Uh, Nelson. Another time, huh? Grandyn and I have something important to discuss.”
“Dad, let him come,” Grandyn said in a tone that told Runit he might skip the meal himself unless “Uncle” Nelson were allowed to attend.
He glared, irritated at Nelson. “Fine, but you’re just an observer.”
Nelson widened his eyes and then winked at Grandyn. “Sure, that sounds like me.”
“Where are we going?” Runit asked, grabbing his coat.
“Pizza?” Nelson suggested hopefully.
As they emerged from the ancient building, bright evidence contrasted nearly two centuries of differences from the library’s stuffy interior and the wonder of Portland 2098, which waited on the outside. Towers of impossible shape and structure competed in a skyline which rivaled many of the best in the world.
Great silver spinning buildings, looking more like gigantic drill bits, controlled by a magnificent feat of engineering, allowing every unit a continuous 360 degree view, no matter which “side” they started on. Other office and residential structures seemed more like massive glass kites, and several resembled huge metallic flowers or entwining vines climbing to the heavens. Even the city’s many bridges flowed across the rivers as if they’d grown there, shaped by the wind and colored by the environment.
Cleverly concealed solar cells and wind turbines powered everything, from the glittery buildings to the sleek light-up roadways. Signage appeared only as needed, projected into the air in proper size and color, as if the world were designed for each inhabitant. Storefronts and ground level structures took advantage of construction materials, which allowed them to change as often as desired to suit promotions, seasonal needs, aesthetics, or simple preference.
The same advancements allowed most clothing, made from Tekfabriks, to change color and design as frequently as the wearer desired.
Runit looked into the sky as drones silently flew in the air-path, a kind of computer-controlled lane for the microcrafts which transported small goods, data, and monitored everything from air quality to bot, android, cyborg, and human movements. The flashy and fast world outside the library always made him anxious, as if he were trapped in an Arthur C. Clarke or Isaac Asimov novel.
The AOI camera network, known as “KEL,” recorded them leaving the library. Facial recognition matched, and KEL’s algorithms quickly assigned a risk level to the group. Only Nelson had any idea that such a thing was happening. Runit and Grandyn had a vague knowledge of cameras, but were oblivious to the profiling. Their meeting that day achieved a level four risk. A number low enough not to be tagged, but uncomfortably close to a five, which would have garnered extra attention. Normally a father-son lunch would have been a zero. The elevation to a four came because books were involved, and mostly because Nelson was, by himself, a level three. If Nelson’s sister had joined them, which she never did, the meeting would have actually prompted a live agent response. She was a four by herself, making the group an unacceptable eight.
Peace came at a price. War was easier to avoid than terrorism. The latter required constant monitoring. Who wouldn’t give up all their privacy in exchange for peace? Hardly anyone remembered it any other way. The cameras were so small and advanced that only a few knew that they were everywhere. KEL was an intricate network of hundreds of millions of micro cameras recording in real time. Cross-indexing and risk analysis happened instantly, with constant revisions and action assessments. AOI teams were always ready. The zero tolerance policy for threats to tranquility had served the Aylantik government, and the citizens of a united Earth, very well for more than two generations. Upcoming events would cause the footage of them leaving the library, and their subsequent meetings, to be reviewed by many humans. But by then, things would be spinning out of control.
Chapter 6
The open-air rooftop pizza restaurant, located a couple of blocks away from the library, had excellent food. But, surprisingly, that’s not why Nelson often chose to eat there. The restaurant, through a fluke in its design, proved a rare weak spot for KEL. Its cameras were present, but one of the more dangerous aspects of KEL was its ability to read lips, and that didn’t work here.
The system was controlled by Design Taught Intelligence, or “DesTIn,” an advanced artificial intelligence program, which oddly had difficulty being accurate within areas of thermal air-movement. Since the eatery made use of large vents bringing heat from the building to create a wall of warm air against the cold damp January temperatures, it wreaked havoc on KEL’s DesTIn. A glass roof kept the rain out, but created another challenge for KEL, which monitored conversations through people’s INUs. Angled glass, covered with raindrops, was problematic. Even without his Whistler, the pizza place was one of the more secure public spaces.
Nelson was happy to see his preferred table available. The hostess ushered them to the private spot, located on a narrow overhang. They had all seen the panoramic view before, but looking at the Willamette River, dramatic at its confluence with the Columbia River, was always compelling. On rainy days the overhang could get misty, but today, Mt. Hood’s dramatic beauty stood as if guarding the city. Grandyn pointed out the snowcapped peaks ‒ Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Rainier ‒ rising from the distant horizon like mystical white spirits. In the closer distance, a troop of perhaps eighty AOI agents flew in formation with only the aid of lightweight turbo-jetpacks on their backs. It was such a common sight that they hardly noticed.
Runit wasted no time bringing up college, and Grandyn, just as quickly, defended his position. “Dad, I don’t want to do anything that a degree will help.”
“As you’ve said before, but you still haven’t given me an acceptable answer of just what it is you do want to do.” They’d covered this ground on many occasions, but this time was different. The deadline was upon them, and they had a witness.
“I don’t know yet. Why do I have to know? I’m only eighteen.”
“Runit, he’s had a job for three years. He’s responsible. Why not let him take some time away from the classroom?”
“I didn’t ask you Nelson.”
“Dad, I love working outdoors. Maintaining the trails for the Parks Department makes me feel like I’m part of the environment.”
“Great. Maybe you could move up in the Parks Department, or even get into the Forest Service, but that takes a college education. Environmental sciences, arborist, I don’t know, but everything I can think of that you’re interested in requires some kind of degree. You may like what you’re doing now, but basically you’re just a laborer. You’re too smart for that, and believe me; when you get a little older, you’ll get tired of the physical work.”
“I’m not worried about that now.”
“No one ever worries about that stuff when they’re young.”
“So why are you expecting me to be different?”
“Because you’re my son.”
“Oh, and who are you, dad? You’re a librarian. A dinosaur.”
Runit stared at his son silently with watery eyes and a clenched jaw before finally managing a quiet and steady response. “That’s out of line.”
Nelson nodded his agreement.
“Well, sorry, but . . .” he stammered. “I mean, sorry, Dad. Noble profession and all, but you’re like the last one. What I’m saying is that it may be fine for you. It’s just that I’m looking for something academics can’t give me. My life is not in a book.”
“Fine, but until you know what you want, you need to follow the course.”
“I know what I don’t want,” Grandyn said. “I don’t want to follow the course.”
The waitress glanced over. Nelson also liked that the pizza place was one of the small percentage of restaurants that still used human servers. Most had shifted to some form of mechanical: either bots, cyborgs, droids, or drones. Nelson motioned that they still needed a few minutes. None of them had even looked at the virtual menus floating a few centimeters above the table.
“You have no idea wh
at college can give you,” Runit said.
“It can’t give me adventure.”
“So that’s what you want? Adventure? Take the summer and go on a hike through the Rockies. Or if that’s not enough, how about the Andes, the Himalayas?”
“We don’t have money for that,” Grandyn said.
“I’ll borrow it.”
“I can kick in some,” Nelson offered.
“I’m not starting out my life in debt.”
“It’ll be my debt so long as you agree to go to college.”
“Dad, that doesn’t work for me. Maybe fifty years ago college made sense, but now knowledge is so instant. I just feel that continuing my education on the Field would be like going on a hike in a tuxedo. It’s overkill for what I want to do. ”
“’You can never be overdressed or overeducated,’ Oscar Wilde,” Runit said.
Grandyn shook his head, having long grown tired of his father’s propensity for quoting authors. “’I have never let my schooling interfere with my education,’ Mark Twain,” Grandyn shot back.
Nelson laughed. “Touché.”
“You want adventure? ’Education is the cheapest ticket you can ever buy for the greatest adventure that is life,’ Willy Stuyvesant.”
“’Self-education is, I firmly believe, the only kind of education there is,’ Isaac Asimov,” Grandyn said, glaring.
“Runit, he learned it from you,” Nelson said, laughing harder. “Better quit while you’re ahead.
“He’s not ahead,” Grandyn corrected.
“I lost my job today,” Runit said.
His triumphant voice was suddenly defeated. “Oh no, Dad. Really?”
Runit nodded.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I just found out.”
“Damn,” Grandyn said. “Dad, I’m really sorry. Are they closing the library?”
“Afraid so.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Grandyn asked.
“No. As you just pointed out, it’s the last one. Not a surprise really.”
“Wow.” Grandyn shook his head. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t sent me my option list yet, but for the first time since I got out of school I’m grateful for the zero unemployment policy. There was a time in the world when jobs weren’t guaranteed.”
“I know. We studied it in school. But getting a job from the option list isn’t great either.”
“At least I’ll earn a living. I’ve been a librarian for twenty-three years. There aren’t many people looking for that kind of experience.”
“It’s a hard way to make my point, Dad, but I want to do something that’s exciting and isn’t ever going to be deemed obsolete.”
“I’m just trying to avoid your working from the option list yourself. Most people have a degree.”
“I’m starving,” Nelson said, and they all quickly agreed on their choices.
For fifteen minutes they discussed old times at the library. Grandyn had taken his first steps there and learned to read English and Com, even some older Spanish. When the pizza came, the tension between Runit and Grandyn had eased.
“So, pretend for a minute that I don’t somehow convince you to attend college. What will you do?”
“Maybe it’s a bad time to tell you, but I don’t want you to worry about me.” Grandyn looked from Runit to Nelson. “I’m thinking of joining the AOI.”
Runit coughed to avoid choking. Nelson dropped a piece of pizza into his lap.
“Why would you do that!?” Nelson asked, beating a still stunned Runit to the question.
“You’ve heard their commercials: Adventure, Opportunity, Income.” He downed a gulp of soda. “You remember my buddy, Trig? He signed up last summer after he graduated and loves it. It’s an exciting career.”
Runit and Nelson exchanged glances.
“You can’t do that Grandyn,” Nelson said.
“I thought Dad might not be thrilled, but I didn’t expect you to be against me on this Nelson.”
“I’m never against you, Grandyn. But you can’t.”
“Why not?”
Runit shook his head at Nelson.
“What?” Grandyn demanded.
“Because they won’t take you?”
“Why not?” Grandyn repeated.
“No!” Runit snapped at Nelson, half raising out of his seat.
“Because they don’t take people related to enemies of the state.”
Grandyn looked questioningly at his father.
“Nothing has happened yet,” Runit said. “And it probably won’t.” He shot Nelson a deadly look.
“What. Are. You. Talking. About?” Grandyn squinted at both men.
“Nothing,” Runit said while Nelson looked around cautiously and triple-checked his Whistler.
“The library is the last collection of physical books left and they’re going to burn them.”
“What?” Grandyn gasped. “Who?”
“Stop,” Runit said. “I don’t want him involved.”
“How can he not be?” Nelson asked.
“Grandyn, the AOI is changing the contents of the digital books, and the only way to prove it, or stop it, is to save the physical books.”
“And Dad’s doing that?” He turned to his father. “Are you going to save the books?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Grandyn stared at his father for a moment. “How can you even hesitate if this is true? Is it true, Nelson?”
“I’m afraid it is more than true.”
“Dad, your life has been books. Wait . . . why is the AOI even doing this?”
“We aren’t entirely sure,” Nelson said. “To stop dissention, to protect secrets, to control information, to lower the collective intelligence, all of the above?”
“My father, brave and true.” Grandyn whispered the words Runit used to say to him when reading him bedtime stories as a little boy. “How can you hesitate?” he asked again in a shaky voice.
“You don’t understand the risks involved,” Runit said defensively.
“I can imagine the risks of inaction,” Grandyn said.
“I promised your mom I’d protect you.”
“Don’t use me as an excuse.” Grandyn held his father’s gaze. “And Dad, is that really what Mom would want?”
“She’d want you safe.”
“In a world without books?”
“Nothing is more important than your safety.”
“Don’t hide in that. I’m not a kid anymore. Your job is done.” His look softened for a brief second. “But if the world isn’t what it appears, if something is wrong and we can fix it, I’d rather be brave and true than safe.”
Chapter 7
Lance Miner turned up the rocking music and danced Sarlo around the office for a couple of minutes. “I never thought they’d answer today,” he said, finally releasing her.
Sarlo sat down in one of the leather chairs, a little breathless. “They know a good idea when they hear it.”
“Damn right!”
He relished the new authority granted by the A-Council. Their agreement to his proposal did more than give him significant power to attack his and the Council’s rivals. It also signaled that nothing could defeat him in his bid to be the next A-Council President. That essentially meant the tycoon would rule the world, though he dared not say that out loud. Even the “elected” World Premier, chosen by the planet’s 2.9 billion citizens, secretly answered to the A-Council. No Premier had ever been elected who had not first been selected by the secretive group. And, as Council President, Miner would effectively be making that choice, something he’d been longing to do for years. The ideal candidate would be smart, respected, and most of all, obedient. He had the perfect person in mind.
Still, there were many issues to deal with in the meantime. Most on the Council were advocating loosening the restrictions that had been in place since the Banoff, but Miner wanted a harder line. T
he most controversial of those was “41,” named for its Constitution item number, which stated that each person was allowed only a single offspring, meaning a couple could have two children, but the limitation remained for life no matter how many marriages, or even if the child died.
The founders were concerned with population control for many reasons, risk of another pandemic and limited resources chief among them. The Constitution held eighty-eight items, and most were restrictive in nature. But because that document had produced a near-utopian society, few were ever challenged. Even 41 had spawned a mini-industry of brokers willing to find buyers for your bearing-rights. If you didn’t want a child – ever – you could sell your right to have one for as much as twenty thousand digis.
The restrictions weren’t Miner’s only concern. There were also rivals to the Council’s power, including Eysen, Inc.’s CEO, Spencer Lipton II, usually referred to as “Deuce.” His holdings went well beyond being the world’s largest INU maker, and included an interest in many leading technology companies across multiple industries. For decades there had been challenges to the Council’s power, but not from the masses, to which the A-Council was only a rumor among the conspiracy theorists and Creatives on the fringes. The threats had come from fellow billionaires and, even subversively, from Lipton, the world’s wealthiest man and only other trillionaire besides Miner. The Aylantik system favored the rich, but that didn’t mean they always agreed. The government was more window dressing than a representative democracy. Corporations had long replaced nation states as the power centers.
“What about Lipton?” Sarlo asked.
Miner had invested heavily in Eysen’s rivals in an effort to drain some of his seemingly infinite revenue stream, but it seemed impossible to catch the reclusive trillionaire in INUs. Deuce Lipton’s massive StarFly Corporation also ranked number one in the world’s fourth biggest industry ‒Space. In the past sixty years, it had grown into a vast segment of the economy. Space involved everything‒exploration and mining, satellites, defense, science, tourism, etc.‒ and StarFly had divisions in all of them. Unlike Miner’s public companies, none of Lipton’s wealth was tied to the world stock market. His firms were all privately held.