The Justar Journal: An AOI Thriller

by Brandt Legg

  “No, they’re safe,” Deuce said.

  “Not those,” Runit said. “The ones left behind. A million worlds cremated. I watched them go. Ceaseless red and grey dust.” He paused, overcome. “That dust may remain in that windless building. Oh, it was so eerily transformed. My library,” he gasped, “it’s now just a burnt out mausoleum. Filled with the scars of eternity.”

  Deuce remained silent for several moments, then said gently, “You saved so much, Runit. More than you know. You could not have done more. No one could have.” He said that last part to himself.

  “What kind of person burns books? What are they afraid of?”

  “You’re a librarian. You should know that answer better than most,” Deuce said. “They want certain things forgotten or hidden or never known, and the places where such things are recorded, like books, become dangerous to the corrupt. The ones who want to control what people think. Who feel safe only when everyone sees it all their way.”

  “I do know that, but the continuous shock of the last week is that the world is a far stranger place than I ever knew.”

  “Speaking of that, you’re being tracked.”

  “They really are going to try to kill me, aren’t they?”

  Deuce admired Runit for using the word try. He knew of only one person the AOI had failed to execute: Munna. But her existence had been confirmed only in the last forty-eight hours, so all her years in hiding didn’t really count. The AOI was the most efficient killing machine ever created. Part police force, part intelligence service, and part military, it had no equal in history, and certainly not in the present world. Deuce hoped Runit would live, and he needed Munna alive at least a little longer, but he had his doubts that either would be alive in a few days.

  “They will kill you, when they’re done with you.”

  “What use am I to them now? If they wanted me to lead them to the missing books, that would mean they knew about the books. Oh no! What if they did know about the books all along and they’re using them to get to PAWN?”

  Deuce was impressed with the librarian. “I have a LEV waiting for you at the rest area just past Roseburg. It’s a heavily treed area. You’ll pull in, use the bathroom, and someone will give you the code to it. Yours will be driven away in the opposite direction.”

  “Will that work?”

  “Yes. It will buy us time, and time is the most important thing right now.”

  “Why are you helping us?”

  “On the contrary. You’re helping me. The man at the rest area will also give you an Eysen. I will explain more, but I need you to find a list of books.”

  “Are those books the reason all this is happening?”

  “Yes. You’ll understand once you get the Eysen.”

  Runit found it ironic that even after everything that had occurred, he was still acting as a librarian, pulling books for a patron.

  The LEV switch at the rest area went fine. The AOI agents he’d been expecting to emerge from the trees with laser weapons never materialized. Runit was relieved to be in a new LEV, allegedly and momentarily safe from AOI trackers. The vehicle had already been programmed with a destination.

  He opened the Eysen-brand INU, as soon as he gave the drive command. Holographic images of eight books appeared. They weren’t all actual books that existed, only Clastier’s Papers were published as their own work, but the remaining seven were books within books, hidden texts that had been purposefully concealed in other titles. Deuce said that if the books could be found, there might be a way to avoid a bloody revolution. The books could bring down the Aylantik government and destroy the AOI.

  Is that possible? Could some old printed and bound paper and ink book actually have that much power in such a technologically advanced society? It won’t be easy, but I’d like to find out.

  An hour later his INU lit. Deuce again. “I’m sorry Runit, but I have some horrible news,” Deuce said carefully. “The AOI has raided the location where your people were.”

  Runit felt the physical force of metal and concrete crushing in on him, the sting of hot polluted water filling his lungs as if the LEV had careened off the highway and into a stifling sewage swamp. He tried to imagine they were okay and he tried to think, but both efforts failed, as he wrestled through the crash taking place in his mind.

  “I don’t know if there were any survivors. I’ve got a force on the way.”

  “Who?” was all he could get out.

  “Chelle Andreas, Nelson Wright, Vida Mondragon, and Grandyn were all at the location at the time of the strike.”

  Runit considered opening the door and leaping from the moving LEV, helpless in his distance. He glazed over and locked himself in that place he’d created when Harper died.

  “They may have survived,” Deuce said. His image suddenly larger, he stepped out of the VM and sat next to Runit. “Listen to me Runit. PAWN had armed militia there, and there were a group of TreeRunners present. There’s evidence that the AOI didn’t anticipate a level of response. The location has tunnels and hidden shelters.”

  Runit looked over hopefully at the digital image, which appeared as real as if it were Deuce himself sitting there.

  “I’m not going to tell you they’re alive,” Deuce said, “but they might be. Some, or all of them, may have survived.”

  “Can you get me there any faster?”

  “You’re not going there at all. It’s a fiery, smoking mess. More AOI agents are en route, my force too. The war has begun. But I promise you this, Runit. If they got out, my people will find them and bring them to you. We’ll know more soon. Hang in there.”

  Alone again, Runit had the glass tint back to clear, and he watched the forested mountains sweep by as the LEV raced along at its maximum speed of 160 km/h.

  “I’m going to find those eight books and destroy you,” he said out loud. “Do you hear me, AOI? The last librarian has a weapon that should scare the torgon out of you . . . BOOKS!” he yelled.

  Chapter 53

  Miner and Sarlo, once again in the air, flying to another city, sat across from each other, tense and tired.

  “Those Imps are scary,” Sarlo said.

  “Absolutely frightening,” Miner said. “Think what they can find on any of us. What they know. Technology has stolen our last secrets.”

  Polis Drast’s face appeared projected into the air from Miner’s INU. “I’m on my way to Portland,” he said. “We’ve hit seven PAWN locations in Oregon Area, and we should have the woman in custody within hours. They call her Munna.”

  “Excellent. I want to speak with her myself. I’ll be in Portland in less than an hour,” Miner said.

  “You don’t need to come to Portland. You can view my interrogation on the Field just as easily,” Drast said.

  “I’m already on my way. This is too important. Munna is the key.”

  Miner didn’t tell Drast that he had another reason for going to Oregon Area. Cope Lipton was believed to be in the region, and Miner’s private forces, already scouring the area for Munna, were now including Cope in their search efforts. Miner believed it was even possible that the two could be found together, and he needed to be the first to find Deuce’s mysterious uncle. “I’ll let you know when I’m on the ground. Peace prevails, always,” he said, ending the zoom.

  “How could Booker Lipton have planned this revolution almost a century ago? Even before the Banoff? It’s not possible,” Sarlo asked, resuming their conversation.

  “I really don’t know,” Miner said. “But our Imp friend didn’t say Booker planned it, he said he knew it would happen. That’s a big difference. If Booker Lipton had some kind of prophetic view into the future, that would explain how he developed the Eysen. You may be impressed with its specs now, but let me tell you that when it first hit the market eighty years ago, it was worlds ahead of anything we had at that time. It was as if it had been plucked from a science fiction novel, or imported from a distant galaxy far, far away.”

  “Can someo
ne really see into the future?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Yesterday, I would have said no. But if the Imp is right, and it’s hard to argue with all he knew, then Booker Lipton somehow saw at least one hundred years ahead of his time, and there is only one person left alive he would have trusted with that knowledge. We have to find him now.”

  “But if Cope Lipton knows Munna, then we might be underestimating PAWN and their chances,” Sarlo said. “I mean, if they’ve had a hundred years to prepare . . . if they’ve waited all that time and are suddenly acting now. . . isn’t it logical to assume that they believe they’re finally in a position to defeat Aylantik?”

  “Unless something else is forcing them to act now. Perhaps it’s our surprising discovery of Munna after all these years. Or what if Munna is sick and close to death? Maybe the World Premier resigning unexpectedly, or the closing of the last library, or . . .” Miner pulled up an image of the Portland Library. “Wait, wasn’t Deuce Lipton caught trying to save the books when the AOI shut down the library in Belgium?”

  “Yeah. He’s some sort of bibliophile,” Sarlo said.

  “What if he isn’t a book collector? What if he’s looking for something instead? Like a book of prophecies.”

  “Would the library have something like that?”

  “Why not? Lots of rare books wound up at the larger libraries as families, estates, and smaller libraries dumped their physical books. If such a prophecy exists, we could use it to know what they know . . . to know what’s going to happen.”

  “Well, if there was anything like that in the Portland Library, it’s gone now.” She brought up a VM and displayed a report on the burning. “Entered by an agent Krucks and signed off by Drast himself. ‘Entire collection of Portland library, last remaining physical books, burned.’ Ironic if we destroyed the only thing that might save us.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t destroyed. Deuce may have found it already. We need to find the librarian.”

  “Runit Happerman,” Sarlo said, manipulating the virtual data in her INU.

  The INU reported pertinent facts in an electronic voice that sounded smoother than any human. “Runit Happerman, age forty-three, widower, one son, GrandynHapperman, known associate of Nelson Wright‒‒”

  “He’s that controversial author,” Sarlo interrupted.

  “Wife deceased, Harper Happerman, AOI extermination,” the INU voice continued. “Possible connections to Creatives, Rejectionists, and PAWN.”

  “Torgon-hell,” Miner said, exasperated. “We killed the librarian’s wife.”

  “Not only that,” Sarlo said. “The librarian’s friend, the author, he’s the brother of Chelle Andreas, the widow of Bull Andreas.”

  Miner’s eyes widened. Sarlo had never seen him so lost. For a moment, he couldn’t find words, and looked as one might if stabbed by a friend.

  “How was this missed? It’s end-of-the-world type of information,” he finally said. “The revolution is coming, and PAWN might be more prepared than we are!”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Run everything on everyone connected to them. Find the matches, and see if anything leads back to Deuce.” Miner pulled up his well-viewed screens on the Liptons. “And have the Force pick up our Imp friend in Denver and bring him to Portland. I want to talk to him again. There’s obviously more to know about this little nightmare.”

  “What if it’s already too late?” Sarlo asked.

  “Only if there is war, is it too late,” Miner said as the pilot announced their descent into Portland. “We must avoid war at all costs. Even if that cost is my entire fortune.” Miner looked at the floating VMs all around him, one showing the face of Runit and whispered firmly, “Find me that damned librarian!”

  Chapter 54

  The LEV got off the Interstate an exit early. Runit tried to change its course, but it would not take his commands. Someone must be overriding, he thought, hoping it was Deuce. Maybe he was going to see Grandyn and Chelle. Maybe they are alive! After twenty minutes of winding through narrow backroads, a prisoner of Deuce’s LEV, he wondered if perhaps the AOI had found him again. Six minutes later, the LEV pulled over and stopped. Two women dressed in black and green Tekfabrik military-style fatigues jumped from the trees.

  “Mr. Happerman, you need to come with us.”

  “Where? Who are you?”

  “We work for Deuce. We’re taking you to a safe place.”

  “Why didn’t Deuce zoom me and tell me?”

  “This entire sector is blanketed by intensive monitoring and surveillance. Breeze-Blowers, Crimers, Mapnots, Swarm-Drones, Sat-grids; AOI has thrown everything at us. LEVs are too susceptible.”

  Runit didn’t know what she was talking about, or whether he should go, but they weren’t pointing weapons at him, and if they were AOI they could have already killed him. “Where are we going?” he asked again, moving toward them.

  “Not far. You’ll need this.” One of them handed him a Tekfabrik jumpsuit. He put it on and followed them.

  Their definition of “not far” differed from his. After three hours of hard hiking through trail-less wilderness, they finally stopped.

  One of them motioned Runit not to talk. The other took out an Eysen and manipulated a holographic keypad until the tree closest to them opened, revealing a one-meter-wide shaft with a metal chain link ladder hung on the inside. One of the women entered and climbed down, the other motioned him to follow. Looking down into the tree, he saw a dimly lit opening, but the yellowish glow illuminated only a few meters down, and soon the woman’s figure blocked it out as she disappeared into the darkness. Runit climbed inside the secret tree and descended on the swaying, chain ladder.

  Once he reached the bottom, maybe ten or twelve meters down, the world before him seemed out of a futuristic sci-fi novel from the past. A corridor led away, glass walls on either side of it revealing rooms filled with floating VMs, holographic people in conversation with real ones, and levitating light panels displaying a full spectrum of colored knobs, switches, and buttons.

  “What is this place?”

  “We call them POPs, for PAWN Operational Pod.”

  “Do people live down here?” Runit asked, still trying to take it all in.

  “A few hundred live and work in this POP.”

  “How many POPs are there?”

  The women looked at each other and apparently decided to ignore his question. They walked briskly down the long hall until a door appeared about fifty meters into the heart of the POP. Through the glass wall, he saw Grandyn.

  He pushed past the woman and stumbled into the room, unable to stop the tears. He grabbed his son. “You’re alive! I can’t believe it! Are you okay?”

  Grandyn held his father for several moments, then pulled back and looked into the eyes of the man who had raised him, feeling safe again. It was all there between them. Their history worked to decode the previous twenty-four hours, the desperate strain and toxic tension they’d endured, and the books were the least of it, although the books might be the only part that made any sense. The betrayal of memory, the lie of facts, and crumbling truths of what Aylantik stood for and how the utopia they’d been cradled in since birth had turned out to be a crypt constructed of webs and dust. They saw themselves in each other’s eyes and rejoiced in their bond, while at the same time wading through shards of reciprocal pain.

  “Vida’s dead,” Grandyn finally said. His son’s anguished face tore at Runit. It took him back to the blackness after Harper’s death.

  He knew that expression, that burning unquenchable emptiness, the torture of having the closest person in the world stolen from you. Justification was impossible. Grandyn suffering agony like that, losing someone he loved, put the burning books into perspective. Worse, it identified a cost to saving the books. An undeniable charge of guilt that Runit would bear – Vida’s death had been the first. He owed more, and cringed at the weight of the karmic tax.

  “I’m so sorry,” Runit sai
d hoarsely, his tear-filled eyes conveying unspoken understanding and comfort to his bereaved son.

  “They killed Bo and Wade too,” Grandyn said.

  Runit closed his eyes, recognizing the name of two of Grandyn’s longtime TreeRunner buddies. He’d watched them grow up. Youth robbed, casualties of a silent war which had never been declared and could not be won. “What happened?”

  “The AOI has escalated,” Chelle said, entering the room behind him.

  Runit smiled at her voice, fearing she’d been lost too. He turned and she fell into his arms.

  “Chelle saved me,” Grandyn said. “She killed a man for me.”

  Runit looked at her, biting back tears of gratitude. “You saved my boy.” He tipped his head to her, lips trembling, hands shaking. “Thank you.”

  “One less AOI agent,” she said as if it had been routine.

  “Thank you,” Runit repeated, pulling her tightly back into him.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, and then stepped back and massaged the air around her INU. “The Doneharvest, that’s what the AOI is calling their crackdown, is unlike anything since pre-Banoff,” Chelle explained, lighting up a VM to show him footage.

  Everyone knew the name Doneharvest, the first head of the AOI after the Banoff. He was credited with restoring peace, but his methods had been extremely controversial and harsh. It was rumored he’d been killed by an assassin, but in the more than fifty years since his death no one had ever been arrested in connection with it, and the “murder” remained one of the AOI’s many mysteries.

  “They want to exterminate PAWN,” Chelle continued. “They’ve been rounding up Creatives all day. We suspect strikes into the Amazon are imminent.” The air filled with images of AOI agents arresting artists and writers.

  “What’s in the Amazon?” Runit asked.

  “Rejectionists,” Chelle said, as if he’d know just what she meant. “How’d it go at the library?”