by Darr, Brian
The Guide didn’t want to watch. He wanted to go back a day in time and tell The Surfer that whatever he was planning, to call it off. He should have seen that they were planning something. They'd spent too much time alone not to. He didn’t question his leader, because his leader was the most inspiration anyone had seen in a long time. Their army never grew much. In fact, it shrank, but there were always plans in motion, and The Guide had always believed that one day, The Surfer would find the plan that would beat The Moderator. In hindsight, it seemed foolish. They never had the advantage. They never had an edge. They never even had a chance.
He turned to address the crowd, which was made up of mostly children. “I think maybe the best thing we can do..." The Guide said, "...is leave the room. I’m not sure we should watch.”
“What if he’s not convicted?” A voice shouted from the crowd.
“He will be. When was the last time someone was caught and didn’t get executed? And it’s The Surfer. They consider him to be a bigger criminal than anyone.”
“So what? We just let this happen?”
“How do we stop it?”
“Well, you’re in charge now, aren’t ya?” Someone else asked.
“Surfer was the end of the line for us.”
“Well, what the hell are we supposed to do? We can’t go home!”
“We never had a chance and we all knew it. What are we supposed to do now? We hadn’t persuaded people before and we’re sure not going to now...especially now. Everyone in the world just saw the two faces of all that remained of the revolution, get caught. Soon, they’ll see them executed. Who in the hell is going to care if a new face surfaces and why in the hell would they follow?”
“Why can’t we just start again? We can regroup, rethink our strategy. We can lay low awhile and strike when no one expects it. We don’t need to recruit through the airwaves. We can do it on foot.”
“Everyone and their brother has Psi people!” The Guide shouted. “We’re all that remains and look at us! I’ve wasted too much time hoping, even when I shouldn’t have. We are small. It’s time to move on, find a place where maybe we can live our lives without being noticed.”
“They'll find us and execute us too," someone shouted. "We have nowhere to go.”
“Not every piece of land is monitored. I’m not sure they even know we exist. They’ve been after Surfer and Wigeon. With them gone, no one will be hunting us.” The Guide wanted to let tears fall from his eyes but he held strong. He looked up at the screen: 3 MINUTES UNTIL THE TRIAL OF THE SURFER.
Those bastards in Chicago were probably popping the cork on the champagne already. They caught the remaining representations of life before Psi wiped everyone’s brain. They would hold a final demonstration that made the statement: Never go against us.
Everyone waited silently, half watching The Guide and half waiting for the trial that would put an end to it all.
“Look,” The Guide started. “If anyone has any ideas of how to get on track, I’m all ears. I get that we’re fighting on principle, but we’ve fought the good fight, much longer than we should have, and that’s enough for me. Whatever is waiting for us in our next life, The Moderator will have to face. You were all brave, but when Surfer is dead, no one will be able to stand in his place and have the impact he had. And judging by the population in this room…that was very little.”
Their silence was the biggest statement of all. It was agreement. Everything they had worked for was wasted time. Those who tried to take a stand and prove wrong those who believed they couldn’t take the world back…they’d been made fools of.
1 MINUTE UNTIL THE TRIAL OF THE SURFER…
One by one, all eyes faced the screen.
When no one was looking, a tear finally fell from The Guide’s eyes. He watched and waited.
Chapter 3
The Moderator looked up over his glasses and watched the mock courtroom fill with friends and associates. He wore an ash suit, a yellow tie, and his black hair was slicked back with a few strands hanging down. He drank coffee like it was water and his neck twitched uncontrollably from time to time, giving his whole head a jerk. He was always wired and rarely slept. His four o'clock shadow complimented his dark features but his sunken eyes revealed his true age.
He leaned forward in his chair and watched as The Surfer was escorted into court by a tall man who looked like a vampire without the sharp teeth, appropriately named The Mortician. At his side was a shorter wiry man named The Acrobat, whose head was shaved nearly to the scalp. The Surfer held himself together on the outside, but The Moderator knew he was a mess internally. He was trying desperately not to show a sign of weakness, but there was frustration in his eyes as he tugged at his restraints. The Moderator fixated his wide eyes on his enemy.
The cameras began rolling and all over the world, the first trial in over three months began. No one could look away. The Moderator sat back and watched as a strikingly good looking man moved in a liquid motion across the room and approached The Surfer. The man assigned to do the questioning was The Moderator’s right hand man. The Magician was a wild card—he constantly had a smile plastered to his face and owned the room with a smug sense of entitlement, but he earned it in what he said.
“Please state your name,” The Magician said as a pen smoothly rolled over his knuckles and back to the palm of his hand, doing circles around his hand.
“I go by Surfer.”
“What is a Surfer? You surf?”
“At one time, I spent a lot of time browsing on what was known as the World Wide Web.”
“Oh, it still is,” the Magician said with a laugh. “I always assumed you were named for the act of surfing waves.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“One would think that the man who was leading a revolution would be more of the surfing waves type and less of a nerd.”
“I was cast into this position because my understanding of technology was the very reason I saw the negative impacts in Psi before it shut everyone down.”
“Psi was well-intentioned,” the Magician shot back and turned to the cameras with a smile. He was showing off for the world to see. He was prepared to make a fool of Surfer.
“Psi may have been well-intentioned at inception, but unfortunately, its potential was harvested by terrorists. I don’t blame Psi for what you did anymore than I blame gas instead of Hitler for the systematic execution of millions of people.”
The Magician let loose a laugh but he wasn’t mocking Surfer. He was genuinely laughing as if he appreciated the reference. He finally caught his breath and focused his attention back to Surfer. “You were caught on the outskirts of Chicago, trying to break into the city with your partner who is known as Wigeon. Please explain to the court what you were doing.”
“You know what I was doing.”
“Please tell the court.”
“Why do you go through these formalities as if they mean something? Why not put a bullet in my head now and stop wasting everyone’s time?”
“Everyone is given a chance.”
“I’m confused as to how you hold the world hostage and say we have a chance at the same time.”
“Please answer the question,” Magician said with a pleasant grin.
“In Vegas, there is a secured building which houses a fail safe: A portal which can shut Psi down.”
“Then why were you in Chicago?”
“To take the Rainbow from you.”
“What is the Rainbow?”
“The thing that appears after a storm,” The Surfer said, sarcastically.
Suddenly, the Magician’s smile faded and his face became distorted in rage that lasted seconds as he thrust his hands forward and an explosion of blinding fire and dust cracked in front of Surfer’s face. The Surfer’s eyes went wide and he almost toppled in his seat as the courtroom roared with laughter. He was being made a fool of on a whole new level: Insults and tricks and pointless games before they tossed him from the top of the build
ing…it was all designed to scare the daylights out of anyone with similar aspirations.
When the smoke cleared, the Magician’s face was plastered with his friendly smile and he leaned against the witness box awaiting an answer.
The Surfer rubbed his eyes and wheezed. They waited as his breath came back and the Magician calmly asked again. “What is Rainbow?”
“It’s just a memory stick.”
“And what does it do?”
“If what I’ve heard is true, plugging it into the system in Vegas means Psi will be overridden everywhere. It means people can be free.”
Before the Magician could answer, the Moderator was on his feet, speaking for the first time. “Who says they’re not free?”
Everyone’s heads turned and the room went quiet. The Magician stood back as The Moderator approached.
The Surfer turned with a smile, happy to address the man he really wanted to spar with. “Taking something by force means enslaving it.”
“We cleaned up the streets,” the Moderator said. The court nodded and muttered in agreement, if only because it was their leader speaking. “What was the world before? Some utopia? I watched the news Surfer. It was story after story of murder and dirty politics and crime. All that…gone with the stroke of a key. Many many people died, and if I could have fixed things another way, I would have.”
“Many people see it differently, and those of us who do, fight to change the world back to how it was before Psi.”
“I don’t get it,” Moderator said. “What was the point of the fight? Surely you don’t believe there was ever a way you’d actually get the Rainbow.”
“All opinions fall between the fuzzy borderlands of unquestionably true and unmistakably false, and you don’t know what we’re capable of. You don’t care what’s best for the world. You were just a nerd, watching TV instead of going on hikes with friends, drooling over porn instead of making love to a beautiful woman. Your greedy mental state steeped you in electronic media and you found your wealth without any time to reflect on what you were doing. You acted on anxiety, rapid emotional swings from euphoria and boredom and frustration that threatened to tip into despair. And all the while, having this unshakable conviction that happiness was around the corner, as soon as you found some semblance of importance or the next raise came along or the delivery guy delivered the Bow-flex you never used. But you found comfort on-line—a bunch of angry geeks like yourself. Put enough people like you together and get them sharing the intimate details of their disease and what you have is a recipe for a revolution that would only strengthen the weaklings. No one denies it was clever, but it wasn’t right. Don’t try to convince me you believe it was right.”
“You got me Surfer. I just wanted a juicy steak to come home to every night, except I believe it was Charles Darwin who once said: How could a selfless individual ever live long enough to reproduce? Why would natural selection favor a behavior that made us less likely to survive? He who was ready to sacrifice his life, as many a savage has been, rather than betray his comrades, would often leave no offspring to inherit his noble nature.”
“Darwin also knew altruism was everywhere. It’s a stubborn anomaly of nature. Bats feed their own when they’re hungry, honeybees commit suicide with a sting to defend the hive, birds raise offspring that aren’t their own, humans leap onto subway tracks to save strangers. Goodness is not a losing life strategy.”
“I love this, you and I talking,” Moderator shot back quickly. “You never stood a chance, but you’re at least the closest thing I’ve ever had to a rival. Everyone else is on a leash, and even though I hate those of you who run around without the chip in you, I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t enjoy the chase.”
“You’d enjoy it more with a fair fight on a level playing field.”
“I once took over the world with a dozen people. I don’t think I need to prove to you that I can defy the odds.”
“Maybe no one saw it coming because no one expected anyone to do something so shitty.”
The Moderator ignored the remark and scratched his head instead. His neck twitched and he suddenly looked up and spoke fast. “I was a pioneer before this, you know that? The good jobs were in programming and I was good. I was really damn good. I worked for Circular Prime, where they manufactured the chips. I started on an assembly line and soon, I was tweaking the design to perfection. I quadrupled the speed. They were forced to dial back on their customer service department because no one complained. Our consumers had the chip inserted and data would upload because their brain wanted it to. They blogged with their minds, had access to anything they wanted, instruction guides, gaming, porn, you name it. They were able to control their own network using their brains, and I was the guy who perfected the process. Back then, I had no dreams of domination. That’s for certain. Now, you want to believe I’m just an evil guy who had world domination on my mind, but life was dandy as was. I made good money, loved my work, loved the attention it got me, the prestige that success had to offer, the booze…my goodness I had some good times in the clubs night after night and I wore a new suit every day. I would have done that forever, but the powers that be patented a similar, but lesser quality, Psi. When I objected, what do you know? Goodbye day-job. Hello unemployment line.”
“What does that have to do with everyone else?”
“Nothing. What does everyone else have to do with progress? Nothing. You were all just fine test piloting your couches, but unfortunately, when gods fight, they step on insects.”
“I already know what happened to you.”
“I have a hard time believing many men in my position would have acted differently. In those times, everyone was disposable. They’d say to pack a box and don’t let the door hit you on the way out and we all wanted to believe that it couldn’t be business as usual without us there, but it was never true. Then, they ousted the wrong man.”
“So you became a terrorist.”
“I don’t see it that way. The difference between living in the city with us and being a part of the rest of the world is tantamount to being a house-pet versus an animal in the wild. Which is really worse?”
“What are you going to do with me?” Surfer finally asked.
“Let’s do something different,” The Moderator said with a sudden smile, as if a light-bulb lit up over his head. “You and I have been chasing each other for awhile. You’re special Surfer. We could debate the pros and cons of Psi all day, but since you believe the world is better off without and I believe the opposite, maybe we let the people decide.”
“You’ll track and kill anyone that votes my way. How is this a fair resolution?”
“Turn on the monitor,” The Moderator said, and suddenly, one wall of the court was a giant computer screen with a flashing dash. “Those of you watching, trust that your honest opinion will not be punished today. I simply want you to tell me what we should do with The Surfer. Should we inject him with Psi and release him? Should we execute him? Today, because The Surfer is special, I will allow him more leverage than I’ve given in the past.”
The Magician started an applause and most of the court followed. When the applause died down and silence filled the room, they turned to the screen.
“Go ahead,” The Moderator said. “I know you’re all watching.”
The dash flashed and everything fell silent.
“Does anyone believe I should show The Surfer mercy?”
It flashed.
“You see that?” The Surfer said. “They’re afraid of you. They comply because they are afraid to tell you the truth: The world is better without Psi.”
The Moderator’s neck twitched and his jaw clenched. He waited another moment and turned back to the court. “I guess this means I make the verdict.”
Then, a single ding sounded throughout the court and everyone looked up.
The user-name was Iris and the message wasn’t a verdict. It read as a challenge: GIVE THE RAINBOW TO THE PEOPLE. THEY WILL EITHER
GIVE IT BACK OR ELIMINATE PSI. YOU WILL HAVE YOUR ANSWER...
The Moderator’s forehead wrinkled and he raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that Iris?” he said, looking up toward the camera.
IRIS—YOU CLAIM SURFER NEVER HAD A CHANCE TO TAKE THE RAINBOW AND BEAT YOU. YOU ALSO CLAIM WE WANT PSI…WHY IS THE RAINBOW SO GUARDED IF YOU BELIEVE PSI SHOULD LIVE ON?
“We guard it from terrorists like The Surfer!” The Moderator shouted into the air.
IRIS—IF YOU BELIEVE WHAT YOU SAY, YOU WILL GIVE US A CHANCE TO TAKE THE WORLD BACK.
The Moderator turned to a morbidly obese man named The Weatherman. “Trace this,” he said.
As if answering the question for him, the screen dinged and he read: IRIS—I DON’T HAVE PSI.
The Moderator laughed nervously as The Weatherman ran off to find out who the mystery user was. He turned to The Surfer, who seemed equally as confused, but whose eyes were filled with hope. He turned back to the screen. “Who are you Iris?”
IRIS—PART OF THE RESISTANCE. WE’RE LARGER IN NUMBER THAN YOU THINK AND WE HAVE RESOURCES YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE. WEAPONS, VEHICLES, A DEVICE THAT CAN EXTRACT PSI FROM THE BRAIN…
“What is it you want?”
IRIS—GIVE THE RAINBOW TO THE PEOPLE.
“That won’t happen.”
IRIS—FROM YOUR FORTRESS, YOU’RE STILL AFRAID. YOU ARE A COWARD BEHIND A BUTTON.
The Weatherman returned, wiping sweat from his forehead. “It’s true. The user doesn’t have Psi. Untraceable.”
The Moderator’s face was rigid. He wasn’t happy to be challenged…to be called names by an unknown enemy. “What does this have to do with The Surfer?” he asked.
IRIS—THE WORLD HAS BEEN SHITTY UNDER YOUR RULE FOR TOO LONG. YOU BUILT A SHIELD OVER CHICAGO AND PUT A BAR-CODE IN OUR HEADS. YOU CHEATED. YOU GET THAT, DON’T YOU, YOU IDIOT? YOU TOOK THE WORLD BECAUSE YOU CHEATED. THE LEAST YOU CAN DO IS GIVE US A CHANCE TO TAKE IT BACK.
“Tell you what Iris. You come to me and I’ll give you Rainbow personally. If you can get it to Vegas and plug it in yourself, then you win.”