Mindguard

by Andrei Cherascu

  “I feel as if I am being treated like a criminal, even though I’ve committed no crime. So far you accuse me of having the intention of crossing political information. Even though I do not deny that, the intention of committing a crime cannot be classified as a crime in itself. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, sir, I believe you are,” Anderson said with a satisfied smile, as if the educator had just played right into his hands.

  “Meaning,” Miller continued, “that your coming here to threaten me for a crime you believe I will commit in the future is not proper federal protocol is it?”

  “Only if you chose to consider yourself threatened rather than advised,” the commander calmly said.

  “Do you presume to question us on matters of federal protocol, Educator?” Martin snapped. Meanwhile, Marcus was sweating profusely, visibly terrorized by this verbal throw-down. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, but the educator didn’t react.

  “Horatio, I advise you to -”

  “You might believe,” Horatio said, ignoring his brother, “that you have unlimited power in the IFCO, but this is still a democracy. You think you can do whatever you want without any consequences. You think you always get your way? Well, not with me!”

  “Horatio -” Marcus was desperately trying to pull his brother towards him and away from the enforcers but Horatio pulled himself free.

  “I am not just any man off the street,” he said, feeling like he had nothing left to lose. A war was about to start and, although at this point many things weren’t clear, he knew he had to join the battle or lose by forfeit. “I am an Educator, a respected member of the community and a politician. I will not be bullied like a common man! I do not lack influence, commander.”

  Martin Anderson let out a theatrical laugh. “You believe your feeble political connections match the authority of the Enforcement Unit?”

  “I merely want the Enforcement Unit to follow the laws it claims to protect. I don’t think the Council of Presidents will look kindly upon this blatant abuse of power.”

  “I overthrow governments,” Thomas Anderson said coldly, with a calculated hostility. Horatio felt like time itself had stopped, frozen in place by the commander’s words. Marcus Miller shot off his chair as if he had been electrocuted. He seemed ready to bolt out the door, but common sense stopped him. The whole conversation felt surreal, and the commander wasn’t finished. He spoke in a prophetic voice. “I assassinate presidents and decide the course of events. I shape the future of mankind. I am the guardian of every single citizen. That means I am responsible for over forty-nine billion souls. Why? Because mankind chose me. Now, Educator Miller, please tell me again about your political influence.”

  Horatio was at a loss for words. Tyrant! he thought, but he dared not speak. The commander appeared to have lost his mind. He was transformed. No longer the skilled diplomat, symbol of the Federation’s stability, he was now a vainglorious madman, foregoing any kind of protocol, spouting off words like ‘treason’ and ‘assassination’. It made absolutely no sense. In the last few decades, the popularity of the Enforcement Unit had slowly waned. Many people were starting to say that they had become unnecessary, claiming that they clung on to their status just for the sake of power. Some were even saying that they demonstrated totalitarian behavior. But even those people would surely be shocked by the Commander’s words.

  “So, is this how it’s going to be, Commander?” Horatio said, when he felt he could speak again without fear that his voice will tremble. “Talk of assassination? Intimidation? Is the Enforcement Unit finally showing its true colors?” The commander said nothing, but the tension in the room was becoming unbearable. “Like I said before, I am not just anybody,” Miller continued, struggling to remain calm. “I am rather everybody. The Enforcement Unit is not what it used to be. Its prestige is fading. The enforcers are slowly, but very surely, losing friends and gaining enemies. If you declare war on me, you will implicitly go to war with every single citizen in the IFCO. The last time I checked, freedom still mattered in this world. People would go to great lengths to protect it. The Enforcement Unit was designed as the guardian of liberty… are you ready, then, to turn it into its enemy? You lead a powerful force, commander, but I dare suggest it pales in front of the force of humanity fighting for freedom.”

  The color in Marcus Miller’s face indicated that he had held his breath throughout his brother’s entire speech. Horatio would not have been surprised to find out Martin Anderson had done the same. Even he himself was amazed by his own passionate and spontaneous rebuttal. Only Thomas Anderson seemed unshaken.

  “All right, I understand you will pursue your intention of transporting the information package. There is no need for this conversation to continue. I will leave you to your work as I am sure the next forty-eight hours will be very challenging.”

  Something about the way in which the commander spoke made Horatio feel like he missed a vital element of this conversation. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but he had the gut feeling that he was overlooking something important. He felt like it was right in front of him, but for some reason he couldn’t see it. So far, he had approached this conversation from the point of view of a businessman. He knew he was facing a risky venture, so he thought like an entrepreneur, trying to use diplomacy and tact. Now he was trying to think like a scientist, to search for that elusive answer in a whirlwind of information. The answer was there. It was hiding, constantly moving along a labyrinth of hints and clues.

  Horatio remembered the days he had spent with his best friend, Nikolaos, slowly and painstakingly working their way through tons of data, rearranging and reconstructing it, using it to make sense of the world around them. There had always been answers woven in the fabric of reality. Horatio looked for them like a detective for clues. He could not afford to overlook anything. In forty-eight hours, he will be going to war with the most powerful force in the universe.

  For the first time in his life, Horatio felt like an underdog. So much was at stake for him. Though he had always come out on top before, this was a situation he had never faced. Just forty-eight hours before his life would change. ‘Forty-eight hours’, the commander had said.

  All of a sudden it came to him, not with the brutal force of colliding planets, but with the delicate brush of a feather touching the ground. It came to him just like all his brilliant ideas had come, back when science was still the ruling aspect of his life. He spoke to the commander, looking at Marcus all the time.

  “I agree, commander,” Horatio said, holding his confused brother’s gaze. “This meeting has served its purpose. I am, indeed, very busy. I need to start preparing a completely new game plan, one my brother will not have the opportunity to communicate to you.”

  Marcus Miller reacted as if he had been slapped in the face. He put on the most hurt and offended look he could muster up. Given that he had never been a great actor - his lies were usually more dependent on withholding the truth rather than giving out false information - he looked positively comical.

  “Horatio,” he puffed, “I have no idea what has gotten into you, but I am shocked and offended -”

  “Save it,” the younger brother said. “We’ll discuss this in privacy.”

  “By all means,” Commander Anderson said, in a tone that was exaggeratedly polite, “We don’t want our presence to inconvenience you. Good day, Educator.” The holographic link disconnected.

  Horatio felt numb. It was true that he had always looked down on his brother as a lesser intellect, but he loved him nonetheless, and he cared about his family heritage. His brother’s betrayal felt like a powerful blow. As Marcus paced through the room, arms flailing, talking about how this was madness, how he was hurt that his own brother would think he would ever stab him in the back, Horatio had already moved on.

  His mind was now preoccupied with trying to regroup and produce a new plan of action. Marcus didn’t even notice that his brother was not paying attention; he was still d
esperately begging him to think clearly, to come to his senses. Horatio was even more disappointed in him. The man just never knew when to give up and move on. He realized with bitterness that he should also feel disappointed with himself, for not having seen this sooner. Tired of his brother’s voice polluting his thoughts, Horatio put an abrupt end to the man’s ramblings.

  “Leave, Marcus, you are no longer welcome in my home.”

  Marcus looked like he was about to start crying. “You have nobody, Horatio, if you turn your back on family -”

  “Don’t talk to me about family, Marcus. You just sold out your only family.”

  “I… you’re wrong… this is crazy, this, what you’re doing… I was trying to protect you… from yourself. I thought if the enforcers knew, they could step in before the situation got out of hand, stop you before you were… unredeemable… to them.”

  “I asked you to leave, Marcus. Right now. Pack your bags and go!”

  Marcus seemed completely defeated, perhaps realizing that he had never before had to live without his younger brother’s protection. Teary-eyed, he mumbled something Horatio couldn’t understand and slowly headed for the door.

  “If you want to leave the planet altogether, you may use the departure area in the front yard.”

  Those would be Horatio’s final words to his brother. He hated Marcus for betraying him. More than that, he pitied the man. Perhaps all those years spent in Horatio’s shadow had turned Marcus Miller into just that - a mere shadow of a human being. But he also pitied himself for not recognizing his brother for the Judas he really was. Forty-eight hours until the world was going to change. What else would happen in this time? In just a half hour, he found out that he could not trust his brother, that he could not trust his own instinct and he started questioning his decision to trust Sheldon Ayers and Maclaine Ross. But he still trusted his daughter. And the fact that he was doing the right thing.

  Chapter 9

  I must bring to the attention of the Council of Presidents the issue concerning the growing political influence of the Enforcement Unit. From the beginning, the purpose of this army has been to ensure the protection of the IFCO against telepathic threat, such as that which has lead to the Great Mindwar, as historians have chosen to call it. The Enforcers are to serve and protect the Federation and any democratically elected government whilst maintaining a politically neutral position. And yet, in recent decades, under the command of Thomas Liam Anderson, the Enforcement Unit has started becoming its own political entity, acting undemocratically in the process. It is my belief that, left to its own devices and under the command of Thomas Liam Anderson, the Enforcement Unit will become a political force that will prove a threat to the safety and freedom of the citizens of the IFCO.

  Vice President Micah Soraman at the 214th Summit of the Interstellar Federation of Common Origin, one day before his unexpected death of what were, upon investigation, found to be natural causes.

  As the pall bearers lowered Brother Elias into his grave, they themselves looking like awakened corpses, Brother Torje was surprised to find himself crying. In a place like Kalhydon, where reminders of one’s mortality were found at every turn, he had expected to become desensitized to death. But that is not the way of the human mind.

  When he didn’t return from Kastain after twelve days, the other brothers and sisters rightfully assumed that he had left this world. Brother Torje was sent to retrieve the body, for that had been the dying man’s wish. Brother Elias had chosen him because he considered him a friend and Brother Torje was honored, though he knew he was undeserving. These people respected him so much they called him ‘brother’ even though he was not one of them. They looked to him for advice and guidance, as though he was a spiritual leader, when in fact he was nothing but a fraud.

  They were forced to live with the discernable presence of death every second of every day. They faced it with dignity while he hid from it like a coward. And yet, didn’t everyone live each day with the discernable presence of death? Was it not inevitable for all? Why, then, was he running from it? He had always thought of himself as a man of sound objectivity. How objective, then, had it been to run from a frightening death at the hands of a ruthless enemy, only to hide in the one place where death was ever present? Wasn’t he just deluding himself?

  He had always thought that he was above self-delusion. Then why couldn’t he just face his death? And why was Anita, Brother Torje’s widow, crying hysterically? Why had she thrown herself in the grave after her husband, having to be forcefully removed from atop the coffin? Was she not aware that she was also going to die soon, and be reunited with her beloved husband?

  As the grave diggers shoveled dirt over the coffin, making it forever lost to the earth, Brother Torje admired the wondrous splendor of the surrounding nature. They were on top of a hill that overlooked a great part of the island. The diversity of its flora and fauna was absolutely breathtaking, a last gift to the island’s tortured inhabitants. Beauty with which to surround themselves as distraction from the horror of their health’s decay.

  Brother Torje was sad at the thought of the little time man was generally given to contemplate the beauty of the universe. So little time. And still, there were men who disregarded it in favor of a constant pursuit of acclaim. He was thinking of one man in particular, a man he had once loved like a brother and whom he now feared like the devil.

  He turned around to see that most of the brothers and sisters had scattered. Somebody had taken away the grieving widow. There was nothing to mark the place where Brother Elias was buried, only the telltale sign of freshly dug earth, which would disappear in a few days. The Brothers did not mark their graves. So many of them died each month that their gravestones would quickly end up dominating the landscape. They did not want to disturb the beauty of nature. Brother Torje hoped he will be able to remember his friend’s gravesite. As a devout Christian, he wanted to return from time to time, to light a candle and say a prayer. His eyes filled with tears, this time at the realization that nobody would ever be lighting candles or saying prayers for him.

  Chapter 10

  When another being offers you its entire trust, whether it is an animal, a child or an adult, the care with which you handle that trust and the way in which you repay it, define your value as a human being.

  Isabel Mensah

  Villo Kantil was still struggling to put on his pants when Tamisa’s retinal insertions announced her that she was being summoned by the commander. Instinctively, she looked at Villo. He was comically hopping on his right leg, trying to get his left one in. She knew that he was doing it just for her entertainment, but this time she didn’t feel amused.

  She was terrified of what the commander was going to say to her. Ever since she started sleeping with Villo, she kept waiting for the commander’s punishment, but that punishment never came. With every passing day she grew more tense, more paranoid, like a death row inmate constantly tortured by the uncertainty of the next morning. She ended up looking forward to finally facing the commander’s wrath, just to be set free of this anxiety. Now that the moment was at hand, however, she was afraid.

  She realized how crazy this was: two members of the Enforcement Unit making out like a couple of high school kids, but she didn’t care. She loved him. Feelings she thought were just platonic revealed their true nature the moment he kissed her. Perhaps she had loved him from the start and just hadn’t been able to recognize it - or admit it to herself. Tamisa had little experience with love. Aanadya was not the soil on which love could grow. That time, when Villo had swept her off her feet, had been the first time she ever made love to a man. Unfortunately, it had not been her first sexual experience.

  When she was thirteen, one of the workers on the hell that had been Aanadya had tried to rape her. It was a memory she kept reliving in her nightmares.

  A storm had left behind phosphorescent puddles on that awful night. If you managed to ignore the skin-crawling reason for that phenomenon, it w
as actually sort of pretty. Tamisa decided to go watch the lightshow. Her stepmother would have never let her leave the house but, as it happened, she was stone cold drunk at that moment. She had been very unhappy since the death of Tamisa’s father, three years earlier, and she had developed the habit of drinking before bedtime. It was a journey from which she could never be turned back; she just had to be abandoned to the finality of unconsciousness.

  Tamisa walked the muddy streets of the dirty slum, passing inhabited houses that looked abandoned, hearing sounds of fornication through the opened windows, like bad omens. The men sounded like wild hogs and the women’s screams were the wails of demented banshees. Tamisa was old enough to know what was going on, but still young enough to hope she would never grow up.

  She made her way up the hill. The darkness of the night was illuminated only by the fluorescent puddles. There was a spot right at the top, where a large hole had formed in the ground and it always collected a lot of water. The giant puddle was surrounded by trees. Illuminated by the faint light, they created an eerie but beautiful spectacle.

  The man appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed her by her left arm and swung her to the ground with such force that she almost lost consciousness. She recovered just in time to receive a punch to the face which almost broke her jaw. The man groped her with savage lust, as though she were a sensual seductress, not a frightened, skinny and helpless child. He turned her on her belly and mounted her, ripping off her shirt, then turned her on her back again and violently pulled her pants down to her ankles. She was still groggy from the punch, so she put up no fight but the man still slapped her hard from time to time, for good measure.

  She was slipping in and out of consciousness. The whole incident had the consistency of a dream. She felt like she was somewhere outside her body, watching from the distance, impervious to the pain. In a way, she was happy about that, her body was the last place she wanted to be in at that moment. She had always prided herself on being mature for her age. It was because of her intelligence but also because of a life that had pulled no punches. Though she had not felt like a child since her father’s death, she knew that this was going to be the distinct moment her childhood would come to an abrupt and violent end. She was about to start crying when something changed the course of things.