by Walker, Jon
CHAPTER 7
Year of Landing 128 - Three weeks later
A skinny menial walks to the edge of Ararat dressed in the bland, durable, and functional clothing of her class. The first thing Pari, a small, mousy middle-aged woman, notices as she clears the last small hill is the smell. A blend of a hundred different aromas, none of which is pleasant, assaults her nostrils. The effect gets progressively stronger as she starts heading down the modest decline toward her destination. She heads to a complex of four large, mostly windowless buildings surrounded by a tall wall topped with barbed wire. The building farthest from the main gate stands apart because of its three large smokestacks. Two of them are currently billowing a stream of fluffy white clouds. The four main structures vary slightly in size, shape and shade, but they all have the same bland, utilitarian aesthetic. Among the main buildings are several small sheds and tall piles of indiscernible matter. The only adornment and bright colors are found on the labels and warning signs. It is the main processing center of the sanitation bureau -- part sewer treatment plant, part recycling center, part dump, part compost plant, part incinerator. Almost everything that the city of Ararat doesn’t want or no longer has any use for ends up here.
This area, on the outskirts of the city, is mostly empty. The only other structures are the small oil refinery and a few small factories that utilize processes equally offensive to the nostrils. Because of the smell, they've been relegated to this spot along the harbor, over three kilometers from the center of the city. Small rises on either side hide the area from decent folk and for the most part trap the cocktail of smells in the tiny valley.
As she passes through a small gate and walks the five meters towards the double doors leading to the main office, Pari feels the calculating eyes of several plant workers glaring at her. She expected some stares since this is not a place people go to without a good reason, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant. She long ago learned a very painful lesson about the importance of not drawing attention to oneself. When she was much younger Pari envied the pretty girls, but since then she has often thanked her gods that she was born with such a plain face.
The entrance to the main office is only slightly less nauseating than its exterior. The space is a sparsely decorated waiting room with rough wooden seats. Pari stands before an older woman sitting at a propped up drafting desk, situated in front of the doorway leading to the rest of the building. The secretary is tall and stocky. Gray-haired and wrinkled, she appears to be at least a decade older than Pari, but she could be much older. It is tough to judge the age of a person on New Eden without knowing how tough his or her life has been. The secretary is hunched over the old phone now permanently embedded into the desk but looks up when she hears the doors open. On her desk is a small plastic sign that simply reads Susan Martinez. She gives Pari a hostile yet curious look. Her eyes slowly move up and down, scanning this surprise visitor and assessing every part of her appearance. “May I help you?” she finally asks.
Pari walks up to the desk. She does her best to stand up straight and sound authoritative, “I’m here to see John Snider.”
Ms. Martinez raises her right eyebrow and stares at the girl across from her desk before answering, “May I ask why?”
The menial struggles for a moment on how to respond before deciding on evasion. “Is Mr. Snider in?”
“I’m afraid he is not here at the moment,” Ms. Martinez says as she stares at this stranger, trying to read her gaze.
Pari looks around nervously before nodding to a chair, “I'll wait here, then, until he returns.” Her tone is part statement, part question.
“You may, but he is out auditing a project and won’t be back for at least five hours,” Ms. Martinez informs her.
Pari grows visibly uncomfortable and stands in silent debate with herself over what to do. Partly out of pity and partly out of curiosity, the secretary smiles at her and offers a solution. “I will be happy to deliver a message to him for you.”
For a moment Pari just stares at her like a cornered animal not knowing what to do before finally answering, “Will you give the message directly to Mr. Snider yourself when you see him?”
The secretary gives Pari a warm, reassuring smile, “Of course, he is my nephew, after all. On my mother’s side.”
The revelation is a clear relief to Pari. On New Eden family connections are the only true foundation for trust. It is the key to getting her to speak more freely. “Tell Mr. Snider he is to come by Councilmember Leo Madison’s estate on Thursday at 10:00 a.m. Councilman Madison wants to install a water garden and needs to discuss the pumping and drainage requirements.”
Ms. Martinez answers, “Mr. Snider is the manager of the whole bureau but not really an expert on hydraulics. We have several engineers I think would be more useful…”
“No,” Pari quickly cuts her off without thinking, then quickly tries to recover from her display of rudeness. “It is just… Councilmember Madison insists on talking only to the top person.” She ends with a hapless shoulder shrug that says, "We know how their kind can be."
Ms. Martinez gives her a knowing look, “I will make sure to tell him personally. Thursday at 10:00 a.m., correct?"
Relieved, Pari responds, “Yes, Thursday at 10:00 a.m. Thank you.” She is already on her way out by the time she finishes speaking. She quickly leaves the plant and walks over to the tannery to discuss the other item that's part of her cover.
Ms. Martinez sits there silently trying to resolve the layers of this mystery and feeling deeply uncomfortable. She wishes she could have gotten more information from this woman but trying to push her seemed worthless. Why would the Councilmember want to see John? Why not just call? After hours of thinking about it, she finds herself no closer to the answer but far more concerned when she finally sees her nephew that evening.
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John Snider sits in his modest courtyard eating a late breakfast. The private urban sanctuary is filled with the smell of flowers and herbs. Normally he would have departed for work two hours earlier, but today by the time he got there, he would have simply turned right back around and headed in the opposite direction to reach the Madison estate. Snider planned to take advantage of this rare moment of privacy at home since his four children were already at school and his wife had already left for work.
His intention was to take this time to enjoy his house and reflect on how fortunate he has been, with the future suddenly seeming less certain. While his home appeared small and modest from the outside, that was mostly a clever trick of design. The way it was built into the side of a hill meant it was far roomier than it appeared. John and his wife had managed to fill the place with many unassuming luxuries. The furniture is exceptionally comfortable and well built. The precious advanced electronics brought by the great slowship are much less worn out than those found in most households. The climate control and hot water systems are surprisingly effective. They also had numerous small valuables hidden very well in the house in preparation for the worst-case scenario.
But instead of reflecting on what he has, John spends this time alone imagining, for the thousandth time, how this meeting could go. The Councilmember could potentially destroy Snider and everything he's built, but if that was Leo Madison’s plan there would be no need for the relatively polite invitations and subterfuge. Councilmembers don’t ask, they simply do. This could be some sort of test. It could simply be that Mr. Madison’s new passion really is water gardens, and the Councilmember has no idea how disconcerting his unusual way of asking for assistance would be to others. The fact remained that Snider didn’t know what was happening, and that concerned him deeply. He had only gotten to where he is now by always being well informed.
Three knocks on the front door break John’s endless cycle of rehearsed potential conversations. After putting his dishes in the sink John heads to answer and finds Jarod Wu at the door, right on time. He is a tall, thin man with light brown hair that has become almost dirty
blonde after spending so much time in the constant sunshine found on Prime. His last name, relatively sparse body hair, and his tendency to become flush when drinking alcohol are basically the only outward indications that some small part of Jarod Wu’s heritage once originated in China. Race and ethnicity were already fairly muddled in the Solar System in the 22nd century and have since been blended into oblivion on New Eden as the colony grew from a rather small starting population.
Jarod is the perfect person to bring along on this meeting, potentially useful no matter the outcome. As a second cousin, John trusts him as much as he trusts anyone in the city. He is part of the inner circle in the sanitation bureau and responsible for directly handling many of their
"unapproved" operations. In addition, Jarod is actually a hydraulic expert by trade, so his presence will make sense. After quickly exchanging basic greetings, they start the long walk to Madison’s estate. Jarod was given enough information about the day’s schedule to know not to ask any questions, so while the two walk along the road they talk occasionally about old movies and music or remain silent. Knowing how to talk in public while actually saying nothing is an underrated skill in Ararat. It has always amazed John how much some people forget that the beggars, street vendors, and street sweepers all have ears. Just because it's easy to ignore them doesn’t mean they are also ignoring you.
The pair are sporting nearly identical brown outfits with only different name tags and titles. They are the official work uniforms of the bureau of sanitation. The design of the uniforms is a legacy of the bureau's past as the department of planning. After important members of the department were particularly slow to endorse Anthony Parker after he took power, the department was downgraded as punishment to merely an independent bureau and stripped of most of its functions. It was left only with the gross and unpleasant duties that members of the Public Health or Economic Departments didn’t want to deal with. Given their positions, neither Jarod nor John need to wear the uniform while working, but both choose to as an outward display of humility and as a way to be less conspicuous. That's also why they are enduring the hour-long walk to this meeting. While John has the resources to afford more impressive transportation, he has long found that the simple act of walking is good for his health in more ways than one.
When the duo finally walk up to the residence, all they see is a low fence blocked by an ornate gate. Behind the fence on either side of the gate are three rows of grapevines. Directly behind the vines are a series of tall bushes. Above the bushes one can see the tops of several different types of fruit trees. Together all the greenery serves both as a source of fresh treats for the councilmember’s family and as a clever way to block the property from view. Councilman Madison’s estate is outside the city proper. Unlike most of the big houses in Ararat which face the ocean, his mansion is situated on a small hill facing away from the city, giving it a much more secluded feel.
Just outside the gate John turns to his subordinate, “Stay here. If I need you I will come get you. You know what to do?” Jarod simply nods and chooses a spot across the road by a small tree to stand sentry. Once he sees Jarod is in place, John goes to use the intercom by the gate. “Hello? I’m Mr. Snider. I was told to come by this morning.” After a few seconds of silence a monotone voice answers, “Mr. Snider. You have been expected. Please follow the path to the right and walk around the house to the back.”
After clearing the gates and the fruit garden, John gets his first look at the mansion. He imagines it is how a Roman senator would have built his villa if he had access to several modern fabrication units and his pick of giant pieces of New Eden's exquisite old growth lumber. The building isn’t particularly tall but still impressive. It manages to appear incredibly sturdy while also open and airy. Perfectly maintained flowers surrounding the house give it color. On the right side of the house is a large flat lawn which could be used for any number of games or events. Beyond that are the private tennis courts.
When John clears the corner he is greeted with a glorious view of the valley below. The backyard features a beautiful terraced garden built into the natural incline of the hill. At the top level of the garden John sees the councilman sitting alone staring outward at the valley. Next to him is an empty chair, and between the two chairs is a small table loaded with a tray of snacks, several different pitchers filled with colored liquids, and numerous crystal decanters. Councilmember Madison is tall, middle-aged, and pudgy. His skin is a few shades darker than the light tan that is the most common color among the ethnically blended people of New Eden. His head is fully shaved, and he is wearing a long sleeved, silky shirt made from an advanced artificial material engineered to passively keep its wearer comfortable in a range of climates. It is an item of luxury only available to the well connected, but its cut and silvery pattern indicate it is casual attire.
John takes a moment to try to read this perplexing scene. It is clear that the councilmember arranged this tableau for a specific purpose, but that only adds to John’s concern and curiosity. Finally he coughs loudly to get the attention of the councilmember, who immediately stands up to greet his visitor with a smile. Sounding polite and friendly, Leo Madison says, “Oh. Good to see you again, John. I’m glad you are here. Please have a seat, I insist.” With his left hand he indicates to the other identical chair across the table from him.
John and the councilmember have been in the same room together on a few official and unofficial occasions -- Ararat is simply not that large of a city -- but nothing in their shared past would justify this level of friendliness. Individuals of his importance simply don’t associate with people of John's status on a casual level. Interactions between the two groups tend to range between politely worded demands and open threats.
John answers formally, “Thank you, sir. I’m always happy to help a chair of the Steering Council,” while slowly and cautiously taking his seat.
Once John is seated the councilmember points to the table and asks, “What would you like to drink? I have grape juice, fresh squeezed orange juice, some hibiscus tea... Perhaps you would care for something stronger?”
“Hmm...orange juice would be great, thank you,” John answers and watches with quiet amazement while the councilmember actually pours him a small glass. The upper echelons of the departments are almost never without staff and menials to do their work.
It is now very clear that whatever the purpose of this meeting is, it isn’t about one-upping the other councilmembers with better landscaping. The location and the prearranged table allow Madison to show John great respect while ensuring no one will be able to overhear their conversation.
After John thanks him for the drink the councilmember takes his seat again and adds, “There are also some treats if you are hungry. I know you walk everywhere, and it's a long hike from your home.” John politely declines with a headshake and waits for the councilmember to speak. Whatever show the councilmember is trying to put on, John doesn’t wish to interrupt more than is absolutely necessary.
Madison stares at John before saying with a commanding tone, “We are here to discuss change.”
John answers in the most literal way he can, as he does whenever talking to someone this powerful, “Yes, I understand you are looking to add significant water features to this garden, although it already looks very lovely.”
Madison says, “It works for now, but it is slowly deteriorating under the surface. These plants look beautiful, but they are leaching the soil underneath themselves. If I allow things to stay as they are, it will eventually be ruined. Without solid direction and change, things grow stagnant and rot. Do you know what I mean?”
John, “In the sewer business we understand you want to avoid stagnation. You don’t want to see what happens when things get stopped up down there.”
Madison squints his eyes at John before proceeding, “I want something new here. Something dynamic. Something that is constantly improving instead of degrading. I believe we will soon be entering a
season for sweeping change. The question is, do the tools and resources exist to pull it off?”
John’s poker face and tone remain unchanged, “In preparation for our meeting, I did check the water pressure and capacity around your estate. You should be able to handle several large fountains. Exactly what tools you will need depends on the exact design of your garden. If you want to talk details, I have an expert on pumping and water flow outside whom I can call in for you.”
Madison furrows his brow in annoyance, “No, that will not be necessary. We are just having a pleasant chat right now.” He pauses for a moment and decides to take a different tack, “I hear behind your back they call you the 'Shit King.' How did you earn that title?”
John answers sounding humble and earnest, “To be honest, Councilman Madison, people call me that to my face as well. I guess it is just an unavoidable joke when you are in charge of sanitation.”
Madison leans back, “I guess that is one advantage of your position -- people aren’t afraid to speak openly to you. It does make me think of an old question, though: is it better to be a slave in heaven or a king in hell?”