“That did what?”
“Overcame apathy.”
They reached the common room and Oliver moved to a pair of chairs in the light of a series of small windows. The chair he chose groaned under his weight but held. With his right foot he spun another about so it faced him. Tripping over a tear in the rug, Henry moved to the proffered chair.
“How do you mean, apathy?”
“Inaction. Inertia. It took the prospect of starvation to wake people.”
Henry shrugged. “That’s the way people are. I was the same, I guess.”
“No, Henry, that’s not the way people are. It’s the way they become. Every creature is born with a spirit to look after itself and the tools to do it with.”
“Well… not every creature… Some are born crippled.”
“Yes,” said Oliver with studied patience, “some people are born crippled. There are exceptions. But by and large we are born with what we need for survival: will and ability.
“There is no law of nature protecting you from harm. Nature is often against you. You must fend for yourself. This doesn’t mean you need to go it alone, by any means. Survival is more secure when people work together. But sometime in the distant past, man settled down. The small tribes turned into villages and towns and cities. Protection was no longer every man’s concern. There were police and soldiers for that. The relieved citizens could go about their lives and not have to worry about protecting themselves; the State assumed that responsibility.”
“Are we fighting to return to a tribal culture?” Henry asked, confused, but Oliver went on as if he had not heard.
“It was not long before our spirit was dampened. If a man witnessed a crime he called the tin men rather than jump into the fray himself. If his property was threatened he looked to men with badges for support, rather than grab his gun and call his neighbors. We became more and more docile. Soon, men were so accustomed to taking orders and being herded they no longer questioned it. We forgot why we created government in the first place. Instead of ruling for us it ruled over us. The few charged with our protection, rather than protect us, controlled us, and we, submissive and tame like sheep, go where they direct and do what they bid.
“But the human spirit cannot be entirely quelled. For centuries different governments have tried to control the human brain. Brainwashing, drugs, operations, mutations, nanobots… there is nothing that hasn’t been tried. No technology has ever afforded a man complete control over another. Free Will is the one thing that can never be taken from us. It can shrink to the size of a grain of salt, but there is always a way to find and awaken it.”
Oliver fixed a stern gaze on his friend. “What you are seeing, Henry, is the awakening of Free Will in the people of Aldra. It took starvation to do it, but it’s happening.”
Henry realized his lips had parted and he shut his mouth. His usually jovial friend had never spoken so eloquently nor so grimly before. Smoldering in Oliver’s eyes was a passion he never bothered to consider might be there, and it held him nearly transfixed.
“So what are we going to do?”
“We are going to do what we must always and everywhere strive to do. We are going to refashion this State into something much smaller. We must create a society with the greater good in mind.”
“The greatest good for the greatest number of people.”
“Can anything possibly make more sense than that?”
“So they’re out to remake Aldra.”
Oliver shook his head. “Not remotely. Most are here because they’re hungry, or angry or both. We promise them a better future and they come along for the ride. But they don’t need to be principled vigilantes. As long as the leadership knows where it’s going.”
Henry blinked and raised his eyebrows. “Are you the leader of the rebellion?”
Oliver gave a half smile and laced his fingers together behind his head. “There is no leader for the moment. That is going to be settled soon.”
***
“… despite advances in communication technology and the ability to collect and sort information, the American experience was much the same. There were misallocations of war supplies all up and down the chain. In order to expedite the shipment of emergency goods, generals were granted the ability to fast track supplies, but every request was fast tracked and the situation did not improve.
“Though each situation has its peculiarities, the fundamentals remain the same. The American Empire, the Sino-European League, the Terran Empire, the Solar Empire… There has, as of yet, been no successful effort to coordinate a war effort – or a peacetime economy – by command and control.”
Alistair fell silent and shuffled the papers on the podium in front of him. His presentation over, he was more conscious of the gazes on him.
“Where did you get the term ‘command and control’?” Edward finally asked with a frown.
“I… it must have been something I came across.”
“I don’t much care for it.”
“Well, in essence that is what we are trying to do.”
“Alistair, there’s a difference between guiding and command-and-control,” Edward replied with a pointed look.
And there’s a difference between guiding and imprisoning for noncompliance, Alistair thought to himself. Aloud, he said, “I guess that’s a fair point.”
Edward, mollified, nodded and gave him an encouraging smile.
“Tell me, Alistair,” said Harcourt from the back of the room, “having done your study, what reasons do you see to be optimistic?”
He could not say why he froze as he looked at Harcourt. The man’s small, round glasses reflected back the glow from the ceiling lights so that his eyes could not be seen. His tall, thin frame was perfectly erect and his hands were folded in his lap. His face was like it always was: as stoic as a carved statue, yet he thought he detected a more ominous intent behind the question. He stuttered for a moment but could not invent an answer.
It was Louise who leapt to his defense. “We can use Alistair’s research to guide us.”
“My question was directed to Alistair,” Harcourt cut her off, only his lips moving as he kept his stare on the ex marine. “What reason do you have to be optimistic?”
Scratching his head, Alistair looked down at the podium. He could feel his cheeks burning as what felt like an entire minute passed while he searched for an answer. Looking up, he thought he saw the ghost of a receding smirk on Harcourt’s face. His heart pounded as he considered what the sneer meant, for a man in a lie can interpret any innocuous event as a sign he has been caught. His panic turned to anger. His cheeks still burned but with another fuel.
“I suppose the greatest reason for optimism,” he evenly replied, trying to make his voice flow naturally as he returned Harcourt’s gaze with a direct stare, “is that we have learned a great deal about what does not work; we can rule out tactics we know will fail. Though in my search over several centuries I was unable to find a single instance of a government successfully centrally planning so much as a single sector of an economy, we know at least where the right answer is not.”
Harcourt nodded, like a man who has had a suspicion confirmed, or so Alistair imagined. Maybe it was just a nod, he thought without conviction.
“Well, Alistair,” said Annette as she stood up, “we could have wished your efforts had born more fruit, but the treasure hunter is not at fault if no treasure has been buried to begin with. We’re not politicians; we can be honest about the task ahead of us. But we do have to realize how important it is.”
It was clear her words were the closing statement, so the others rose and gathered their folders and notebooks and portable computers. Alistair’s gaze followed Harcourt as he exited the small conference room, but Harcourt looked at nothing but the path in front of him, his head held high and his posture rigidly perfect.
Moments later, as Alistair walked through the hallways of the Transportation Bureau, he heard footsteps behind him. He intuite
d that the light, feminine steps belonged to Louise and a moment later was proved right.
Tucking a strand of brown hair behind her left ear, Louise smiled and said, “Annette suggested we all eat lunch together in the south cafeteria.”
“I’m sorry, Louise. I’m meeting my brother for lunch today.”
“Oh.” She stared at the ground for a moment, her strides unnaturally long as she worked to keep up. “Well, it wasn’t a big deal. I’ll see you in the lab.”
“See you then.”
When he reached the north cafeteria, he quickly spotted his brother with Leland Maddox who, bent over his bowl, was busy scooping fruit into his mouth with a slow but constant revolving motion. Making his way to the table, Alistair exchanged nods with his brother.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted them, dropping his packed lunch onto the table.
“Hello, Alistair,” said Leland, sitting up a little straighter to address the newcomer. Gerald just grunted. “Your brother and I were discussing the new economic data.” Alistair said nothing as he emptied his little sack of its contents. “It looks like the economy is on an upswing. Quite a nice one, too.”
Alistair hummed noncommittally but Gerald said, “Alistair doesn’t believe in economic data.”
“What’s this?”
“I don’t mean gathering the data, although he’s suspicious of that too. I mean the data itself he thinks is worthless.”
Leland looked at Alistair with a slight smile, like he was expecting the punch line of a joke.
Alistair bit into a hunk of bread. “When scientists measure something – anything – they also note the margin of error. I think the same thing should be done with econometric data. No one actually counts every item produced, it is an estimate based on imperfect and incomplete information. I just think they should acknowledge that rather than give the impression they have absolutely accurate data.”
“But the data itself isn’t worthless,” said Leland.
“I don’t think it is worthless—”
“I thought I recalled you saying just that,” Gerald interjected.
“May I address this without interruption?”
Gerald bit into his wedge of cheese.
“We work to make goods or provide services that make us happy. The problem with counting the number of goods being made and the amount of money circulating is that it is no good for measuring just how much of this happiness, or as economists say, utility, has been achieved. The government may build ten thousand bombs and make the data in its books look good, but are those bombs making us happy?”
“Those bombs are protecting us from Kaldis,” Leland said with some conviction.
“I was talking in general, not about this specific case.”
Leland frowned as he pondered Alistair’s words, his droopy face drooping further.
“And of course production of goods doesn’t take leisure time into account. Sometimes what makes us happy is to sit on a couch and do nothing. In this case, by not producing anything we are best maximizing our utility. If the government were to order us back to work, we might produce more goods but have lower utility. A simple figure like the tonnage of goods produced or the amount of money being spent does not tell the whole story.”
Leland considered it for a moment. “Well, producing more can’t be a bad thing. And someone has to keep track of the statistics.”
Alistair repressed a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”
Gerald perked up. “Leland! He supposes you’re right! I’ve waited over twenty cycles to hear those words come out of my brother’s mouth.”
“Why did you invite me to lunch?”
“Oh, relax. We’re just having some fun.”
“Can you include me?”
“Relax, Alistair. I was just commenting to Leland on what a change you’ve gone through. I used to not be able to take a sip of tea without getting an economics lecture.”
“Well,” said Leland, “I just got a lecture a moment ago.”
“That’s nothing,” said Gerald with a dismissive gesture. “Alistair could go on for hours at a time about the Free Market and Subjective Value Theory and… I can’t remember what else because I never really listened. But if I mentioned the smallest little government plan he’d quote me a history of its alleged failures. Ensure a dignified wage for workers? No, no, that would unemploy everyone! But now he goes about his business with his head down and his sleeves rolled up. I can visit my parents without taking a sedative. What changed, Alistair? You never told me.”
“I told you I wanted to contribute.”
“Very noble. Stop obstructing and start cooperating.”
“That can be the next State slogan.”
“But you can be honest with us, Alistair. There’s no litmus test here.”
“Yet.”
“Do you still believe all that jargon you used to bore us with? Did you have a Road to Damascus Conversion? Or was it bit by bit? Or are you still rethinking things? What was it that made you change?”
“Blow it out your ass.” Alistair returned his attention to his food.
“It’s OK to admit you were wrong,” Gerald said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Sure, government can make mistakes, but the Realists have us on track. Predictable, really. Leland and I were just the other day talking about Reynolds’ Survey of Worlds. I don’t know if you read it, but it seems the government planned colonies thrived better than the privately founded ones. In fact, Aldra is one of the few privately founded colonies that has endured.”
Like a fish swallowing a lure, Alistair could not let the challenge pass.
“The private colonies were few in number and started small. They were also often eradicated by government marines.” Alistair realized he was losing his temper but he plunged on. “The Survey of Worlds was a fraud from the moment it was conceived. Reynolds did it while in the employ of the Solar Emperor. It looked only at a few measures of economic output and population growth without taking anything else into consideration. The privately founded colonies always started smaller because they couldn’t tax an entire nation to fund the project, but Reynolds simply measured their absolute size at certain intervals after their founding. He also ignored the fact that the best worlds the government claimed for itself; the private ones needed more terraforming. And dozens of government founded colonies devolved into decentralized minimalist states or even anarchist societies. Being founded by the government doesn’t change the fact that they were often operating on Free Market principles. Reynolds also fails to consider that when the Heim-Droescher Drive became widely available, the Solar Empire was losing so many citizens, and therefore so much of its tax base, to the freer outlying colonies it chose either to wipe them out, take them over or pressure them into tightening controls to stem the bleeding. Not unlike what is going on with Kaldis right now.”
Alistair finished with a glare, but Gerald’s shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.
“Listen, boys, I’ve gotten so much work dumped on me…” Leland stood up, looking uncertain. “I can’t afford to take the long lunches you do. Alistair, it was nice to see you again.” He quickly left the two siblings to their argument.
“Did you memorize that from a textbook or were you composing on the spot? You should have been a professor, except no one would hire you to teach that kind of thing.”
“I know damn well you’re trying to bait me; don’t think you had me fooled.”
“I just wanted to see if the same Alistair was still here. Somehow I figured he was.”
“Would you cut it out?” Alistair demanded and he shoved his brother’s shoulder. The smile finally disappeared from Gerald’s face. “I was doing hard duty on Kaldis while your butt got soft at a desk. I appreciate the job but if you can’t leave well enough alone I can eat with someone else.”
“Would you relax?” said Gerald, but Alistair stood up and gathered his half finished lunch. “I like you better when you’re annoying, not when you’re pretendi
ng to fit in.”
“Whether I fit in or not is none of your concern,” Alistair coldly said and turned to go.
“I’ll see you at Dad and Mom’s tonight. I’m coming over later.”
Alistair did not even turn around.
***
Alistair’s fingers, having well learned their way around a keyboard, rapidly typed in the final list of digits. Pausing for a moment to allow himself a stretch, he saved the program and shut down the system. The three dimensional display before him faded and finally disappeared.
“I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Edward said as he brushed by Alistair to replace his folders in their cabinet drawer.
“It’s Tuesday, Edward. Tomorrow’s Sunday,” Annette reminded him, herself making for the cabinet.
“Of course. See you on Monday.”
Alistair waited behind Annette before filing his papers. “I’m sorry I missed the lunch today. I had a prior engagement with my brother.”
“You can eat where you want, Alistair.”
“No, I mean… weren’t we all eating together today?”
“No,” she said with a bemused smile and then left him at the cabinet. “Only if you wanted to. See you Monday.”
Alistair was just beginning to ponder what that meant when he turned around to see Harcourt having trouble shutting down his computer. The gangly professor had typed in his code twice but, suspended in the air in front of him, a red error warning flashed, accompanied by an electronic beep. He set his fingers to the keypad once again but this time typed in his code number slowly.
2-0-0-3-0-1-0-3-1-4-0
Alistair froze for a second, then turned away before Harcourt could catch him staring. Tense, he grabbed his coat, scarf and hat off the hanger and donned them on the go. Passing Louise on his way out, he did not hear her goodbye. He was out the door, made nervous by the beginning of an idea. He wound his way through the halls and merged with the herd of departing workers, repeating the numbers in his head.
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