He hurried out of his office without even considering for a second that, in his speech about glory, perhaps Commander Anderson might have been referring to himself.
Chapter 16
I have always disagreed with his following into my father’s footsteps and becoming a mindguard. I said to him: “Son, the mind can be a very powerful enemy”. He never listened, though. I remember his answer was always: “It might be your enemy father – he never called me dad – it might be your enemy, but it isn’t mine!”
Robert Ayers, father of suspect Sheldon Ayers – Enforcement Unit Archives, File number 986697714, Investigation of Ayers-Ross Thoughtprotection Agency on one count Treason against the IFCO, with intention to overthrow the Council of Presidents.
Sheldon had distanced himself from Isabel and Sophie. The carrier did not need to be in his range of vision in order for him to properly protect her. He felt the presence of her mind constantly, as clear as he would have heard her voice or smelled her perfume. Like a voice, each individual mind had a certain timbre. To a mindguard, the thoughts of a person were as distinct as fingerprints or genetic markers. A mystic would have called it her ‘aura’ but Sheldon disliked occult terminology. Mindguards called it the ‘thought timbre’.
Sophie had a very pleasant thought timbre, as soothing to the mind as a gifted singer’s voice to the ears. Not all of his clients possessed this quality. In fact, in Sheldon’s experience, most people had a coarse thought timbre, unpleasant to the mind, like thick smoke to the lungs. But it was not his job to judge the quality of the minds he protected. He always offered an equal level of commitment to everyone. Still, it was a pleasant surprise to work with someone like Sophie. In very simple terms, her mind disclosed that she was a very positive, gentle person.
There was a single ‘dark spot’ in her timbre, a particular section that was not in harmony with the rest. Sheldon suspected that it was the imprint of Horatio Miller’s mind, perhaps the very information package that they had been hired to protect. He didn’t know for sure, because it was beyond the level he was allowed to access. However, he didn’t feel the slightest curiosity. His training as a mindguard made him instinctively back away from any information about the packages under his protection. Sophie was not even aware of his mind’s presence inside her own. That was one of the things that made him such a capable mindguard. He was always subtle, never uncomfortable to the client.
He stopped in front of a stand that offered old books, dusty and crumpled editions in every language imaginable. He wasn’t planning on buying anything, but the sight of books always relaxed him. The vendor said something, probably asked if he was looking for a title in particular, but Sheldon didn’t bother to answer. The man turned away with a look of disgust.
He passed the book stand and stopped in front of one that offered a sort of food made from the intestines of a native animal, that the vendor swore would be the tastiest thing he will have ever eaten. But Sheldon didn’t stop because of the food. Behind the stand was the entrance to a shop that offered second-hand clothing. The clothes were placed in disarray, in typical bazaar fashion, but an item in the back had drawn his attention. It was standing out in an otherworldly glow. That item should not have been there. He knew that because it belonged to him. It was his old leather jacket, which had been a gift from his grandfather. The other reason he knew it shouldn’t be there was because he was wearing it at that very moment.
Yet he saw it, clear as day, hanging on a clothes hanger in the back of the store. He passed the food stand and made his way towards it, almost forgetting for a moment about guarding Sophie. Before he ever had the chance to enter the store, he was promptly reminded of his duty, when he felt Sophie’s timbre start to change. It was getting darker, denser, as if something viscid was seeping inside it. He felt the link between their two minds weaken, which could mean only one thing: somebody was trying to read her thoughts.
The attacker’s timbre was inconsistent and chaotic, the sign of a weak telepath. It was probably some local junkie, hopped up on whatever synthetic cerebroactivator they used in Fardhi. Sheldon could sense that Sophie didn’t yet feel the attack. The assailant had very little command of his telepathy, his mind merely flickering around the girl’s. There was no need for a Weixman Cube, which would have only served to alarm and confuse her. Instead, Sheldon projected his own mind between that of the attacker and that of his client. His powerful mind repelled the attack, increasing its force exponentially.
The aggressor was now undoubtedly in a state of crippling pain and discouraging confusion. Sheldon started walking towards Sophie, looking around for anyone who might seem extremely uncomfortable. Sure enough there he was, sitting at one of the tables near a stand that served cheap liquor. He wasn’t hard to notice. He was desperately looking left and right, then up and down, then at his hands and his body, as though he were being attacked by termites. He was sweating profusely and his entire body was shaking like he had been struck by an acute attack of malaria.
Sheldon calmly walked towards him. As he was nearing the table, the aggressor noticed him. He looked at Sheldon like the mindguard was a conglomeration of all phobias that have ever terrorized humanity. He seemed ready to start crying. Sheldon got very close to him, to the point where he could smell the stench of the man’s cold sweat. He stared indifferently at the terrified man, his mind tightening like a vice around the feeble consciousness of the thug. The man was too petrified to even beg for his sanity. He was a pathetic wretch, a young junkie who had hoped to cling on to the lovely woman’s thought timbre for a mere second, to get off like a pervert groping a woman in a crowded spaceport. He was not a serious threat.
As the man broke down in tears, and blood started dripping from his left nostril, Sheldon tilted his head to one side like a curious dog. When the mindguard felt confident that the man’s sanity was seriously compromised, he merely turned around and left, leaving the junkie behind a nervous wreck. He got close to Sophie, who didn’t have the faintest clue of the battle that had just taken place for her mind.
“We should get going,” he said. “Mac will be at the church in just a few minutes.”
“Mm hmm”, she answered, admiring a colorful dress.
Sheldon returned to the store where he had seen the leather jacket. It wasn’t there anymore, at least not visible from the outside. He didn’t want to risk going in, especially after what had just happened with the minor telepathic assault. The store was open but nobody seemed to be there. No salesman was visible from the outside. Of course, the view was almost completely obstructed by the sheer amount of old, ugly, smelly and dusty clothes that had been piled up in such a way as to be easily seen from the street. There could be a salesperson behind those stacks of clothes, hidden from view.
“Sheldahn, we should go.”
Isabel’s voice was heard somewhere in the distance. He turned around and made eye contact, then nodded and turned back to look at the store one more time.
Sure enough, there he was. The salesman had appeared seemingly out of nowhere and was now sifting through a pile of clothes as if he were looking for something. He had his back turned to Sheldon, but even so, the mindguard recognized him in an instant. He was wearing the leather jacket and his white hair, combed behind the back, reached over the collar.
Sheldon’s eyes widened and his heartbeat hastened. When Kinsey Ayers turned around, his appearance was that which Sheldon remembered from his youth, not the weak and fragile aspect from before he died. Sheldon started shaking but he held the old man’s gaze. His grandfather said nothing, but the look on his face was one of profound sadness. He seemed to wait for his grandson to come to him, but Sheldon turned around and simply walked away.
Chapter 17
A second of weakness is enough to tear down what you have built in a lifetime of strength.
Villo Kantil
“If you had any knowledge whatsoever of political history, you would be as worried as I am after the events of the las
t few days, instead of sitting there with that superior smirk.”
The talk show had only just started, but the heavyset man with the beard was already beginning to get angry. He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely. The color of his face suggested a tropical sunshine over a wad of grease. Clearly, he carried a big chip on his shoulder and was looking for the first opportunity to get enraged.
The other guest, a historian and official biographer of the Enforcement Unit, was going to provide him with just that opportunity. He had an arrogant and conceited demeanor, the likes of which could anger the most even-tempered man of the cloth.
“Educator Carson, as opposed to you, I am a man of reason. Since you are obviously biased and extremely subjective, I do aim to provide a little nonpartisanship and professionalism to this conversation.
“Violating the rights of citizens - rights which are granted and guaranteed by the IFCO - should not be dismissed so casually, Mr. Vernon.” The fat man pronounced his interlocutor’s name as if it were one of those words he had been taught as a child to avoid in any and all circumstances.
“You’re just upset he picked on one of you educators.”
“Gentlemen, please, this is getting out of hand -”
The host’s reaction was so rehearsed it would take a very dense viewer to overlook just how excited he was at the prospect of his guests springing at each other’s throats.
“He did not just ‘pick on us educators’ as you so impertinently stated,” the fat man continued. “Several sources in the last few hours have confirmed the abusive shut down of the Ayers-Ross Thoughtprotection Agency.”
“You assume it was abusive, Educator Carson.”
“I assume it was abusive? A reputable agency with a spotless history is all of a sudden accused of treason and intention to overthrow the government. The agency is closed down, all the agents seized by the Enforcement Unit and the remaining active employees, who are guarding an educator’s daughter…”
“Here we go again…”
“…are branded fugitives and hunted like animals…”
“Now, hold on…”
“Gentleman, please…”
The calmer the biographer remained, the more the educator raised his voice. The host secretly wished the man would not only yell, but hopefully take a swing at his smug interlocutor’s face, or perhaps spit in his eye. Both reactions would be equally effective in producing ratings and entirely preferable to a polite conversation.
“Educator Carson, I am surprised that an academic such as yourself is tempted to fall prey to such sensational rumor…”
“This rumor, Mr. Vernon, has been confirmed by reputable sources.”
“Reputable, ha, well -”
The host, a tall and slender, curly-haired man with a mustache that appeared to exist merely to spite the rest of his face, interjected himself into the conversation: “If I may interrupt, Mr. Vernon, we have sent our very own reporters from Impartial Interrogation and they have been unable to establish contact with any employee from Ayers-Ross.”
“Perhaps the very accomplished agency merely refuse to taint its reputation by participating in this media circus.”
“Sir, l kindly ask you to refrain from insulting our staff or our viewers.”
“And, Mr. Vernon,” said the educator, “Horatio Miller himself has not been seen or heard from in the last forty-eight hours, and has given no official statement on this topic.”
“…which I rather interpret to be a sign that he has better things to do with his time than dismiss inflammatory comments.”
“Mr. Vernon, do you deny that the Enforcement Unit has the power to infringe upon a citizen’s rights -”
“Educator, I am merely stating that Commander Anderson and his Enforcement Unit have always had this power, yet for the past two and a half centuries they have been nothing but a pillar of stability for those very rights you mention time and time again.”
“It is too much power for a single person, when the threat of corruption -”
“Corruption? Commander Anderson’s behavior has been spotless. If the IFCO is enjoying any sort of stability it is because of this man and the military he commands.”
“I think stability is a questionable term, Mr. Vernon. Perhaps yourself and the elite class of IFCO citizens you represent have not felt as powerfully the reality in which the rest of us citizens -”
“Us citizens? I think you are the wrong man to be speaking of an elite, Educator Carson. I think it is outright laughable that you try to present yourself as the voice of the common citizen, when the class of educators are among the wealthiest people in all of the IFCO. Surely, you of all people are the last person to feel the effects of the mild financial setback.”
“A mild setback, Mr. Vernon? Some have called it a serious financial crisis, and it has been going on for some time.”
“History teaches us that the financial setback we are still somewhat struggling with to this day was caused by the devastation brought about by the War of Minds. Now, if you recall, Educator Carson, the history books clearly relate that the Enforcement Unit, under the command of Thomas Liam Anderson, has been instrumental in ending that war and providing the basic freedom we enjoy as citizens. In fact, one could argue that Commander Anderson’s army has laid the foundation of what is today the IFCO. I believe that those actions should be more than enough to earn the man the confidence and admiration of the IFCO, not to mention the benefit of the doubt, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Do not patronize me, Mr. Vernon. I know you are supposedly a historian but I have had an interest in history since before you were born. I know very well what we citizens owe the Enforcement Unit. I fully agree that, when the Unit was established, the freedom under which it operated and the power it had been granted represented a necessity. However, those were times of war Mr. Vernon. For centuries, we are living times of peace.”
“Yes, and that is thanks only to Commander Anderson and his enforcers.”
“True. But the enormous power granted to the enforcers is unjustified in today’s society. Even you can not negate the waning trust of the citizens in the integrity of the Enforcement Unit. People are uncomfortable with the fact that Commander Anderson can bend the rules at his very own will.”
“That waning trust you refer to Educator Carson, is cultivated by people such as yourself, hoping to weaken the influence of the Enforcement Unit for their own political gain.”
“Now see here, you little -”
“Gentlemen, please!”
“I’m sorry, Rone, but if your pathetic talk-show were not merely a vehicle for silly advertisements, perhaps you could exert better control of its progression.”
“Mr. Vernon, I kindly ask you to keep a professional and respectful attitude towards -”
“The man is a clown!” Educator Carson screamed. Whatever little self control he had displayed so far had completely evaporated, making way to the pent-up anger and frustration he had been looking to release since before the show had even started. He looked straight at Vernon with an expression that would have been more proper were the man entirely covered in feces.
“Your feigned disinterest in what is obviously a grave matter of interstellar security clearly demonstrates that you have your own perverse agenda.”
“Ha, are you suggesting I’m on Commander Anderson’s payroll, then, Educator Carson? Because in that case I believe a call to my lawyers is in order.”
“Gentlemen, please, let’s not let this discussion further deteriorate.”
“You are simply refusing to acknowledge that it is dangerous for a single man to hold so much power.”
“The power does not belong to Thomas Liam Anderson - the man. It belongs to the position of Enforcement Unit Commander, Educator Carson.”
“But there has never been another Enforcement Unit Commander. Hell, Thomas Anderson is the bloody Enforcement Unit. Those so-called soldiers follow his every order like mindless drones.”
�
�Oooh, perhaps you should tread lightly, Educator Carson.”
“Or what? Commander Anderson will do away with me like he did Vice President Micah Suraman?”
“I believe the official report on that was ‘natural causes’, Educator.”
“Natural causes? His neural monitoring system fails and he dies of an aneurism the day after he publicly voices his distrust of Commander Anderson and the Enforcement Unit?!”
“You are throwing around unfounded accusations Educator.”
“Unfounded? On November 13th 2124 Commander Anderson and his enforcers assassinated the entire Council of Presidents and established themselves as rulers of the IFCO, basically granting themselves limitless power.”
“A power they gladly gave up once order was restored.”
“Did they? Because some say that true power still lies in the hands of the enforcers.”
“That sounds mighty paranoid, Educator Carson.”
“A healthy fear of a military that feels they can overthrow government and assume control at their whim is not paranoia, Mr. Vernon.”
“Perhaps you should reconsult your history books and study the actions of President Supa Ramir and the Council under his lead. Focus on the direction of his politics before Commander Anderson thankfully intervened. If he had not, the society we live in today would be drastically different. In fact, I’d like to go on record as stating that we would not be sitting here in this second-hand studio even talking freely about a topic such as this, had it not been for Commander Thomas Liam Anderson.”
“Look at it however you want, Vernon, there is no denying that the Enforcement Unit is exhibiting behavior that gives me reason to be very anxious regarding their actions. I do not want my personal freedom threatened.”
“Let’s put it this way, Educator Carson. If sometime in the following days I shall be attending your funeral, I will publicly admit that I was wrong and you were right, how does that sound?”
Mindguard Page 18