The Justar Journal: An AOI Thriller

by Brandt Legg

  “You’re forgetting Belgium and the other libraries,” she cut him off. “If you stay, Grandyn will be an orphan, and if he comes back, even to go to your funeral, he’ll be joining you in the urn.”

  Runit had not just been forgetting about Belgium, he’d been subconsciously blocking it out. He suddenly looked horrified, as if it had hit him for the first time. Now with the books gone and the library closed, he realized that Grandyn would be sought and killed. Chelle gave him a minute to work it all out. “But where will we go?” he finally asked in a desperate, broken voice that sounded as if he’d been running a marathon.

  “PAWN has places. You’ll be safe.”

  “But Chelle, what will we do?”

  “You’ll help the cause.”

  “How?”

  Chelle tried to remain patient, but worried the AOI could show up any minute. She didn’t believe they’d wait until morning. “Please, Runit. I can tell you on the way.”

  Vida was already working on Grandyn about recruiting the other TreeRunners. Chelle had told her enough about AOI threats and tactics to terrify her, and the promise of money was merely a bonus to saving Grandyn. She’d still be paid well if Grandyn agreed and brought his clan into the rebel movement. The TreeRunner oath made that group incredibly appealing. Even without Vida’s prodding, their involvement looked assured. Grandyn, one of their own, was in danger, and they would have to oblige.

  Runit felt as if the lump in his throat might strangle him. What had he done? But then, sanity swept through him like a monsoon.

  He hadn’t had a choice. The world had moved in on him. Even Harper had led him down this path. They were going to burn the books, the last books. He had to protect them. He was the last librarian, and now he had to keep on protecting them. And Grandyn would help.

  “Grandyn can go. I’ll stay through tomorrow. If I’m not here for the burning, they’ll know something is wrong. They might even figure out we’ve taken books.”

  “It’s too dangerous.”

  “You said yourself. If they suspected us, we’d already be in jail. But if I’m not here for my last day of work to help supervise ‘the closing,’ then they’re going to start investigating and it may lead them to the books. This will all be for naught.” He waved his hands around at the books.

  Chelle couldn’t argue with his logic, but she also knew what had happened in Belgium.

  “Runit, they may just lock you inside the burning building.” She could see in his face, tired and stressed, suddenly looking old. That he was considering it, but she still didn’t think it was sinking in. “Don’t you see? They’ve already signed your death warrant. The AOI agents who show up to burn the books also have orders to kill you.”

  “Maybe,” he said, staring somberly. “But we don’t know when they’re going to execute me. Nelson said they usually make it look accidental. I have to stay to protect the books so they don’t suspect we got some out.”

  “Yeah, poor librarian dies in library fire. A neat and tidy accident!”

  He just looked at her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. His stoic bravery overwhelmed her, and she put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek softly. The wetness of a single tear from her eye seemed to fuel their passions. “I don’t want you to die,” she whispered. “You’re worth more than the books.”

  “History is replete with those who sacrificed for a greater cause.”

  “Is that what you want? To be a martyr?” She pulled back. “Do you even understand the cause?”

  “No, I don’t understand, and I definitely don’t want to be a martyr. But I don’t believe I’ll die tomorrow. The risk and experiencing the uncertainty are my only sacrifice. I’m not foolish enough to think history will remember the last librarian. I just hope whatever it is in these books that is so important is more than just the history everyone already seems to have forgotten.”

  Chelle touched his face. “Men like you . . . ” She looked through the glass wall into all the books that remained, searching for words. “You’re from an old romance novel I once read. Full of conviction and manners, ideas from another time, honor, courage.”

  Her lips found his and melted him as passion took hold of the remaining threads of his resistance. The frustration and fear, which had tormented him all week, shattered the doubt, the risk of another betrayal, and his uncertainty all fell away like broken bits of glass showering the grand staircase as he pulled her closer.

  In the middle of the night, with only pale light seeping into their caress, they took each other into their lonely grief, and trusted that this time abandonment would not follow them. Perhaps between the touch and the breath, something would keep safe their race into the face and fury of a rebellion on the brink of eruption. In their stirring heat, the cold night and AOI were forgotten, and even the books, both condemned and liberated, vanished into whispered mist as they wrote an original scene, played a million times before, but never like this.

  Chapter 46

  Sunday, February 4

  For once, things went their way. In the early morning hours of an unseasonably warm Sunday, the books breezed down the Interstate as if it were a load of pears going to market. The fruit carrier, loaded with the cumulative core of humanity’s knowledge, pulled into the old barn just before 06:00 hours. Two young men, dressed in a black Tekfabrik, closed the large wooden doors behind it.

  The driver got down from the cab and looked around. He couldn’t see up into the loft or he would have been stunned at the array of modern electronic gear located in the vintage structure. That wasn’t the only thing out of place on the old farm. Twelve meters away, a Flo-wing sat under some nano-camo tarps that automatically changed to the surrounding landscape like a chameleon. The two men who closed the doors greeted the driver, smiling, then quickly injected him with a tranquilizer and held him while he struggled and finally slumped to the hard ground. Minutes later he was aboard the Flo-wing and immediately en-route to an unknown destination.

  Two more vehicles arrived ten minutes later, followed by another Flo-wing, which brought a BLAXER crew of fourteen. They would prepare the books to be moved again. Deuce wanted them out of there before the PAWN people arrived. Competing interests of the same cause, he thought, but he was determined to take no chances until he knew Chelle’s ultimate goals.

  The BLAXERs had brought new containers, developed after the Belgium fiasco. Constructed of carbon composite blends and Tekfabrik, they utilized the latest atom-displacing-adjusted-molecule technology, resulting in a forty percent decrease in the weight of the contents. The added benefit of a video readout of the contents meant almost no sorting. It had been too risky to use them in the library, but now that the books had been safely evacuated, they could be used. Especially with the continuing journey, something better than bundle straps had been needed. The books were repackaged with military precision.

  Deuce Lipton, watching it all happen on the floating VMs in his office, smiled. The books were safe, at least for now. He’d won this round. Even managed to get almost five hours of sleep. Now, if the librarian lived through the day and the AOI didn’t find the woman, he might even start making real progress.

  Then, on his INU, he noticed his son and two security guards enter the building. Twain should have been on his way to the safety of a family-owned remote island, but instead Deuce had brought him back to do a job only a Lipton could do. The 06:30 meeting meant his son had been up early, and hopefully he could still make it to that island by the end of the day.

  Elevators still existed in older buildings, but modern structures, like the one that housed Lipton’s San Francisco office, used ultra-fast Q-lifts, which could span twenty floors almost instantaneously. It brought his son and his security detail to the top of the one-hundred-forty-three-story building in less than seven seconds. The BLAXER agents waited outside the office door.

  Deuce hugged his son. “Thanks for coming.”

  “It must be getting serious.”
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  “I need you to go to the redwoods and bring your uncle back here,” Deuce said.

  “Are you kidding?” Twain could tell his father was serious, but he knew his uncle would never come.

  “I can’t be off the Field. I need him here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’ve found Munna.”

  His son looked at him. Munna was a name he knew well, but hadn’t heard since he was much younger. “I’ve always wondered if she was real.”

  “I’ve told you since you were little that Munna is alive.”

  “I know, but . . .”

  “Your whole life, I’ve never lied to you Twain. Never forget that. Everything I’ve ever told you was the truth. There is a sacred pact between parent and child.”

  Twain nodded. “Who found Munna?”

  “The AOI.”

  “Oh no,” he said, letting out a breath.

  “They don’t have her yet. They just know her vicinity. But for the first time ever the AOI believes she exists, and their trackers are closing in.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Where do you think?”

  “With the books?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but not wanting to believe it.

  “Of course. She’s on her way to them now.”

  “Why? Doesn’t she know the risk?”

  “I’d say she knows the stakes better than the rest of us combined.”

  Chapter 47

  Alone, on the gray stark morning, Runit walked through the grand old building slowly, soaking in the radiant energy from the condemned books. He vowed to preserve their memory. Although still unsure exactly how to do that, he knew that guarding the hundred-thousand-plus spared volumes was the best start, and being there that morning, in jeopardy, was the best beginning to that start.

  His library, for it had belonged to him longer than his only son, longer than he’d been with Harper and, in fact, had occupied the greatest portion of his life, appeared brave and true. The columned archways held steadfast, like soldiers loyal to the written heritage of time. Windows filtered in opaque light as if secreting the contents of the remaining volumes out into the forever etherealness.

  He stopped and sat on the marble steps between the second and third floors and thought of Chelle, but only for a moment. In an effort to shield himself from more pain, more loss should he never see her again, he denied the memory as best he could. He looked up at the ornate round skylight that had been there for a century and basked in its muted glow.

  “Damn them for doing this,” he whispered, then wondered fearfully if anyone could hear him. What difference would it make? he wondered. I’m already a dead man.

  He looked around, trying not to glance at the KEL cameras. They’d been so careful. Every possible precaution had been taken, and so far no one had been arrested.

  Maybe they’d pulled it off. What about the missing AOI agents from last night? What if someone saw something? What if they noticed the missing books?

  He double-checked the lower level. Grandyn had wisely remembered to get the strapping machines out on one of the last loads. A group of TreeRunners had carefully canvassed the entire building, searching for any large gaps on the shelves. It all looked fairly normal. For years he’d been bothered that they didn’t have enough room for all the books they had, including the ones from private donors that didn’t even show up in their system. Now that problem might be what saved them. The library still looked full, even with the absence of more than one hundred thousand books.

  Still, Chelle’s warnings troubled him. He could be dead in a matter of hours, and then how long would it take them to find Grandyn?

  Suddenly, he saw the copy of The Road by Cormac McCarthy. It had been on the list, but no one had been able to find it. There it lay under some papers on his desk. Damn it! The story had particular meaning to him. The world as we know it ends, the mother dies, and a father and son wander through the wrecked landscape of what came after, looking for survival and hope. Who knew how the AOI censors would butcher the stirring father-son tale.

  He didn’t have much time. Finding one of Nelson’s old doughnut boxes, Runit concealed the ninety-two-year-old book and carried it to his LEV along with an old sweater and an antique brass lion that had been in his family for years. He tried to look casual, and now, knowing where each KEL camera was, he carefully avoided looking directly into any of the prying, ever-present, digital-eyes.

  An hour later, his INU lit up, notifying him the “team” was minutes away. He met them at the front door. An amicable man with short pudgy fingers named Krucks, introduced himself as the agent in charge. Nine men in shiny silver flame suits entered the building behind him. The flame suits, he later learned, were fireproof Tekfabrik which, when worn with the appropriate headgear, would allow them to walk through flames of more than six hundred fifty degrees Celsius.

  Krucks, dressed in relaxed black slacks and a gold shirt, explained that the special AOI crew had done this before. “They’re trained for such missions.” Two more men pushed a large cart filled with tanks and hoses into the lobby. Runit was horrified to think he was living through a real-life warped version of Fahrenheit 451. “They’ll spray the target materials, in this case books, with Red-1953, a specially formulated agent made by PharmaForce. It is quite an amazing product. It will incinerate the target materials while leaving much of the surrounding area unscathed,” Krucks added smiling. “Of course, the shelves will be badly damaged or lost, but we won’t be needing those after the burn anyway.”

  “What about the building?” Runit asked, feeling queasy.

  “Oh, it’ll be fine. But I understand they’re going to level it sometime this summer. They haven’t decided yet, but the new AOI regional headquarters might be built on this site.” He looked at Runit as though this might make him feel better. “Our other place was badly damaged recently, you know?”

  Runit nodded as if hypnotized.

  “Don’t worry,” Krucks assured him. “We’ve got two dozen agents on the perimeter in case someone decides to make any trouble.”

  “Trouble?” Runit asked.

  “Just a precaution. We don’t expect anything. No one cares about books anymore.” He pulled one from a nearby shelf. “Talk about antiquated. These heavy, clumsy things became obsolete about a hundred years ago. Strange that libraries lasted all this time. You can fit a few hundred thousand digital versions of books in a standard INU.” He patted his, and Runit noticed it was an Eysen brand. “And digital ones never wear out. The one thing the paper versions do better is burn.” He smiled.

  “Yeah,” Runit said, silently recalling Dwight Eisenhower’s warning, “Don't join the book burners. Don't think you're going to conceal faults by concealing evidence that they ever existed. Don't be afraid to go in your library and read every book...”

  “Did you get everything out?” Krucks asked, sounding concerned.

  “What?” Runit asked, feeling as if he’d just swallowed a mouthful of straw. They know! Of course they’d known all along. We took over one hundred thousand books out in complete defiance of an AOI order. They’re just going to throw me in with the books, burn us all. Maybe Grandyn can get away into the trees. The TreeRunners will help him.

  “Your personal belongings.” Krucks smiled. “Did you get them out? You’ve been employed here a long time. I assume you’ve accumulated a few items along the way. Wouldn’t want to see those burn too, would we?”

  “No. I mean, yes, I got them,” Runit said, unable to hide his relief.

  “Good,” Krucks said, still smiling. “Where are you parked?”

  “Why?” Runit asked, full of straw again.

  “Nothing really. We just have to check your LEV. Make sure there are no books,” Krucks said, looking into a VM that Runit couldn’t see. “I can see you’re not the foolish type, Mr. Happerman, but at some of these closings librarians have actually tried to take some of the old books with them. But they’re government property. It�
�s kind of funny when you realize they can read whatever they want on their INUs.”

  Runit nodded, not sure what to do.

  “Of course, the books still checked out will be collected over the next few days by local agents. Looks like there are only a few hundred. Not many people used this place anymore. Inefficient and cold,” Krucks said, shivering. “At least until we start the burn.” He laughed, as if it were a brilliant revelation. “Your LEV? Let’s get that piece of business out of the way so we can enjoy the burn.”

  “Uh, this way,” Runit said, pointing down the stairs leading to the lower level. Each step was like a ticking time bomb as Runit tried to figure a way out, to think of a stall, a way to contact Grandyn. He should have listened to Chelle. She knew the danger, had tried to warn him. Maybe she’ll take care of Grandyn.

  By the time they reached the parking area, Runit was trying to hide his perspiring, knowing it would seem odd on the cold February day. “Are you okay?” Krucks asked, noticing.

  “Feeling a little under the weather. I didn’t sleep well last night. The truth is, I’m going to miss all the old books.”

  Krucks smiled. “Of course you will, you’re a librarian. Or should I say, the last librarian?” Don’t worry, we’ll be back inside in a minute. Although I swear it’s colder in there than it is out here . . . at least until we start the burn.” He laughed again, amused by his replay of his burn line.

  They reached the LEV. Runit saw two nearby AOI agents and assumed they would be the ones to arrest him, maybe even just shoot him on the spot as he’d seen through the plumber’s INU. Why did he take that book? His whole life had come down to this, executed for reading a Cormac McCarthy novel.

  “This it?” Krucks asked, peering in the wide, clear, glass-like windows.

  “Yes, this is my LEV.”

  “There’s your problem,” Krucks said in a serious tone, pointing inside the vehicle.

  Runit looked back at the AOI agents.

  “You had doughnuts for breakfast. That’ll make anyone feel like dirt. They’re just sludge in your system. Look at your health numbers, you’ll see.” He pointed to Runit’s INU hanging around his neck. “Now, let’s get back inside and start the burn.”