Marilyn sat on the front seat of the rental Ford Explorer, staring at the front of Aegis in the morning light. Despite the fact that the marshals guarding the perimeter regularly had tow trucks haul away the vehicles of new entrants to Aegis, to either turn over to family members or to auction off, the parking area was surprisingly full. During the thirty minutes since she had arrived, at least fifteen other vehicles had pulled into the lot, the occupants abandoning their cars, bundling the possessions they wanted to take in with them, and braving the hellacious winds.
She knew that once she walked through the front turnstile, there could be no turning back.
"Marilyn, you're a fool!" she chided aloud, her words barely audible, even inside the enclosed SUV, over the clamor of the incessant gale.
Slipping on the hooded windbreaker, zipping it up to her chin, and pulling the hood over the top of her head, she yanked on the drawstrings and cinched it tightly around her face. With a final deep breath, as if she were about to duck her head underwater for a long dive, Marilyn opened the door.
Jerry Clowrey knocked one time on Faulk's door before he turned the handle and swung it open, wondering why Marilyn was not at her usual station. Faulk glanced up from some papers and did not greet Clowrey, only looking at him expectantly.
"There was no transmission last night from Charon."
Faulk did not seem to be surprised by the news. "And Stone?"
"Nothing from Stone either, sir."
"Have we received a report from Boehn? Is he out of Aegis yet?"
"Yes and no, sir. He has the notes from Bonillas, but in the process was detected by Kreitzmann. It was necessary to subdue and detain Kreitzmann."
Faulk turned over the new input in his mind for a moment. "At this point, it doesn't really matter what Kreitzmann knows. Why hasn't Boehn left Aegis?"
"I can't say, sir. We were communicating through the hard line, when it went dead. I've tried contacting him repeatedly with no luck. I've even tried to reach him through the dedicated point-to-point T1. I was unable to connect with his computer."
Faulk's mood visibly worsened. Tersely, he asked, "Did he, at the very least, upload Bonillas' files to us?"
"No, sir."
Slamming his fist down hard on the desk, Faulk took a full minute to compose himself before he could trust his voice. "Very well. Let me know if anything changes." He snatched up the telephone handset and punched in a four-digit extension.
Anxious to leave the room, Clowrey simply answered, "Yes, sir," and backed out, closing the door. As he walked back to his office, Clowrey's phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out, he saw in the display that the call was coming from the lab.
"Now what?" he muttered aloud.
Elias awakened on the cot to the gentle sounds of percolating coffee. Turning his head, he saw that it was Wilson who had lit the camp stove and put the pot on. A few feet farther away Tillie was sleeping on her side, her back turned to Elias. Wilson noticed the movement from Elias, and they made eye contact in the dim light.
Not wanting to disturb Tillie, Elias carefully twisted around on the narrow camping cot until he was in a seated position, the tops of his knees almost level with his chest. Neither he nor Wilson spoke for the few minutes it took for the coffee to finish. When two metal cups were filled with the black brew, the men walked away together, putting some distance between themselves and their sleeping friend.
Elias spoke in a muted voice. "I assume you had a quiet shift."
"Quiet as a tomb. Did you get enough rest?"
"It'll have to do."
"Have you thought of a direction for our efforts this morning?"
"I think so. With the killing of the ZooCity residents, the destruction of the solar panels, and their loss of Eric, I have the feeling that the rats are going to abandon this ship."
"I would agree. It seems that whatever benefit they may have had from operating in Aegis is deteriorating rapidly for them."
"When Kreitzmann told you about his back door to Aegis, did he give you a clue as to its whereabouts?"
"He did not. I am not aware of the location of that point of ingress and egress."
"I think we need to find it."
"What good will that do? You aren't planning on leaving Aegis, are you?"
"No. But if we want answers, Kreitzmann is probably the only one in this place who has any. And if we're right and they are getting ready to leave, then covering the exit makes the most sense."
Wilson nodded his understanding. "How do you propose we do that?"
Elias shrugged. "I'm not sure. We all went over the plans for this place yesterday, but we were looking for a hiding place, not the logical spot for Kreitzmann's private entrance."
"Perhaps a second review, with that in mind, might be helpful."
"As much as I hate to do this, I guess it's time to wake up Tillie."
"Has anyone seen Sweezea and Crabill?" Milton Pierce shouted over the heads of the rapidly assembling crowd.
He singled out three of his regular Madison security team; each in turn shook his head to indicate he had not.
Without giving the two men another thought, Pierce continued in a loud voice, "We are all aware of what has happened at ZooCity. That enclave is no more. We also know that there has been a catastrophic occurrence which destroyed the solar collector system atop Aegis. This has caused partial outages throughout the complex. But the long-term…actually, not so long-term…effect of this is that we are now running on reserve battery power, which will run out in a matter of days, or perhaps weeks."
The gathering had quieted to listen. He went on, "We are fortunate in that we have two men in our community with training and experience in this area: one, an electrical engineer; the other, a journeyman electrician. But without help, they cannot begin to address what is required. So I need volunteers to assist them in their work."
"What can we do?" asked one of the group standing closest to Pierce.
"They have prioritized our efforts. One of the tasks at the top of the list is to redo the circuiting and redirect the available battery power so that it is only being used by the occupied portions of Aegis. This should substantially lengthen the reserve life of the batteries. Anyone who has worked as an electrician or an electrician's helper would be our first choice, followed by auto mechanics, then tradespeople of all sorts who might be comfortable working with tools, and lastly, those who are capable of doing the heavy lifting, the grunt work, as it were."
Pierce was gratified to see that several hands were raised in the group.
"Those who are volunteering, thank you. Please move into the anteroom where our two men are waiting. We must get started immediately on that phase of the work. The second item on the list is the tedious and dangerous task of picking through the devastation on the roof of Aegis. If there are any solar panels which are still serviceable, they must be salvaged, and this must be done quickly before they fall victim to the continuing winds. This is inherently dangerous work because of those constant gale-force winds, as well as the presence of glass and even steel with a deadly potential."
Again, several hands rose, and Pierce segregated the volunteers from the balance of the gathering, dispatching them to the foreman who would oversee the work. When they were gone, he looked at the remaining crowd and, with a more somber tone, resumed, "Finally, I believe it is critical that we deal with ZooCity."
A few of the men and women around him had quizzical looks which quickly changed to disgust as he elaborated, "That enclave is littered with corpses. The process of decay has already commenced. If we do not gather these bodies and bury them, all of Aegis will suffer from a myriad of problems…disease, infestation by insects and rats, and so on. It is for our own health and safety that we do this.
"I know that after the riot, we addressed this same issue by unceremoniously dumping the bodies of the dead into the compactor. I have been sick
ened by that action ever since and cannot abide repeating it. I understand the repugnance of this task. I sincerely do. But I believe that, in addition to the obvious health and safety issues, it is also the civil and the moral thing to do. If you are curious as to who will be at the front of this detail, the answer is that it is I."
With that final comment, Pierce stopped and turned his gaze from one of his citizens to the next, shifting his glance through the assemblage, and waiting. Slowly, at first, then gaining in pace, hands went up until every man and woman in the group had volunteered.
With a smile, he made his final comment. "I can't tell you how gratified I am by your response. I would like all of you to gather masks, gloves, and any other protective clothing you may have, and meet here in an hour."
The gathering broke up and the meeting room quickly emptied. It was not until most had gone that Pierce noticed his sister standing in a corner of the room, waiting.
Their eyes connecting, she took a timid step forward, unsure how she would be received by her brother. Milton quickly covered the several yards to Mildred and embraced her.
"Mildred, how are you?"
Stepping back, she answered, her voice muted, "I've been better, Milton."
He gestured toward a table and chairs with his arm. "Let's sit down."
She nodded and moved toward the chairs. As they walked, Milton realized that he had never seen his sister like this. If he had ever been tasked with creating a list of descriptive words for Mildred Pierce, it would have been populated with bold, assertive, strong, fearless…and many similar adjectives indicating the level of her confidence and commitment.
Seating himself beside her as she slowly lowered herself down, he asked, "What's wrong?"
Her eyes fluttered uncertainly for a moment before she spoke. "We lost eight more residents."
"Oh, my God!" He instantly regretted his choice in words. Mildred had long ago divorced herself from the religion of their upbringing and, in fact, any and all belief in God. Even this casual comment normally would elicit a ten-minute tirade. But this time there was none.
He decided to quickly move the conversation forward. "How? What happened?"
With a dull stare, she replied, "Suicide."
"Suicide? Eight more in how long a period? In the past few weeks?"
"Last night." The two words fell flatly from her.
Milton had no idea what to say.
"With these latest losses, Walden is down to less than forty people."
So immersed in the day-to-day challenges of managing Madison, he had not followed the progress of Walden. "I had no idea."
His words caused her eyes to pivot, connecting with his, and he saw a brief flash of the former fire which had been her hallmark. "That's garbage, Milton, and you know it."
"What do you mean, Mildred?"
"You have always competed with me. You've always wanted to prove that you were right and I was wrong."
"Mildred, that's not true."
"Yes, it is!" she snapped back at him.
Tentatively, he reached out and gently placed his hand on hers. "We've always had our differences; that's true. And, as you know, those differences have been quite extreme…even to the point of alienating us from each other. But, in all of our discussions, arguments, and verbal battles, there's one thing I've never shared with you."
Suspiciously, she asked, "What is that?"
"There has always been a part of me that hoped you were right."
A breath caught in her throat as she absorbed his words. "What…what are you…do you mean that?"
Attempting a weak smile, he answered, "I do."
"But you have always fought so hard. You've been so certain in your convictions."
"I still am. But that isn't the point. My world view is missing one element your philosophy has."
She was analyzing his every word, looking for a trace of insincerity. "What do you mean? What one element?"
"Beauty."
"Beauty?"
He nodded. "Your view, your image of the world...and, specifically, people...is gilded with a loveliness, a hopefulness. It is an essence my vision sorely lacks."
She stared deeply into her brother's eyes, searching for duplicity and finding only candor. "If that's true, then why…?"
He interrupted, "We have fought over this issue because I am convinced that your belief, your philosophy, is grounded in wishful thinking instead of reality. The fundamental cornerstone upon which your paradigm is built is an illusion. But that, also, is not the point. Out there" – he gestured vaguely with his arm to indicate the world outside Aegis – "the most hawkish, militaristic politician, as he works incessantly to strengthen our defenses, even at the expense of social programs, wishes, deep within his soul, that the flower-child mantra of ‘give peace a chance' would work. He really, truly desires a world where no one wants to conquer us or kill us.
"The store owner, who spends huge sums installing surveillance cameras and staffing his business with loss-prevention people, intensely yearns for a world where his employees wouldn't dream of stealing from him. The owner of the manufacturing plant would be ecstatic if he could run his plant without needing foremen to make certain that every employee does his or her job and does it well. And every parent or every competent teacher longs for the day when students want to learn, need to learn, and testing and grading would not be necessary.
"Sadly, Mildred, the reality is that if we were to disband our military tomorrow, our country would be overrun within days. The pathetic truth about the retail industry is that more than seventy percent of the theft of merchandise and cash is caused, not by the customers and shoplifting, but by the very employees who are already provided a job. If workers are left unsupervised in a manufacturing plant, production drops to less than half and the quality of the output falls to an abysmal level. And students who are not tested…who are not evaluated in their progress…leave the institution illiterate."
Mildred took in his words without comment.
Milton's voice lowered and softened. "All of this is not an indictment against men and women or our children. It is simply the way it is. It is human nature. It is who we are. The reality of the human animal is that if we are not watched, policed, graded, tested, and evaluated, we will not do well."
"That isn't true of everyone."
"No. You're right. It isn't. There are exceptions in each of the situations I described above and countless others. There are some people who are not aggressive, who will not take advantage of an undefended nation. There are honest employees, men and women who won't steal from their bosses whether they are watched or not. There are workers who push themselves far harder than any foreman would ever dream of pushing. And there are students who do come to learn and will do so voraciously, taking advantage of every opportunity provided. The mistake is when you attribute the traits of these individuals to all others."
Her tone neutral, rather than accusatory, Mildred stated, "Then you're a cynic."
Milton allowed himself a wan smile. "Someone who is a ‘Pollyanna' sees things more positively than they are. A cynic is at the other end of the spectrum. Neither bias produces an accurate read on what is seen. I try…I hope that I am a realist. I recognize everything that I've described to you as being a fact of human nature. But I also see the good within humanity, the potential to rise above, to be heroic, noble, honest, fair, decent, and kind. In other words, to be exceptional."
"So do I."
"That is where we differ. You believe that all people are born that way and will inherently live their lives that way, unless they are thwarted by some outside force. For you, Mildred, all people are exceptional until they encounter an oppressive leader or a greedy boss. At that point, you believe they become victims. And because they started out as exceptional and only became bad children, bad parents, bad employees, or bad citizens as a result of their victimization and oppression, they cannot be blamed. You believe that if we could only remove the malignant in
fluences on people from the moment they are born, they would all be exceptional."
"There are nasty and ugly people out there! They do victimize. Don't try to tell me that the wealthy businessman isn't trying to hold on to his wealth and keep the others down."
"He is trying to hold on to his wealth. In fact, he is trying to increase it."
"Because a billion dollars isn't enough for those people. They need two billion…three…ten billion." As she spoke, her former feistiness crept back into her voice, and Milton became concerned that this was going to degenerate into another in a long line of screaming conflicts between them.
Trying to shift the direction of the conversation slightly to mollify her, he asked, "What's the alternative?"
He watched as she calmed somewhat. "We need to remove the incentive to make egregious profits."
"You know I disagree, but tell me, how would this be done?"
"A graduated tax, increasing to a higher rate the more they make."
"Since people always work in their own self-interest, what happens under a graduated tax is that their need, as they perceive it, to make even more money increases as they are taxed at the higher rates. They must redouble their profits just to compensate for what is being taken from them. So that would not solve the problem, as you perceive it; it would exacerbate it."
"Not if once they passed a threshold, a certain income level, the tax rate became one hundred percent. Then there would be nothing they could do, no amount they could make which would compensate for that."
"That's true. If the government decided the maximum that people should be allowed to make, and took everything above that amount from them, you are absolutely right; they would no longer have any self-interested motive to cross that line. By the way, what would that number be?"
Mildred began to answer and then stopped herself.
"Come on, Mildred, what's the number? Is it a billion dollars a year?"
"No, that's much too high."
"One hundred million?"
The Aegis Solution Page 31