“Yes, of course,” Green said, “how does this make her plan inadequate?”
“Must I spell it out? Must I say it?” Blue said, almost standing up this time.
“For my benefit, then,” Red said.
“Very well,” Blue said, lowering the gaze of his eyes to the table top. “Red harvested but failed to test per the protocol, resulting in the virus being released needlessly to hundreds of thousands. Many of these have already been released and may in some cases overwhelm local security patrols.”
“Additionally, as was the case in her previous harvest, management of the neural implants was less than satisfactory. As I said, they were installed in individuals prematurely and without proper testing. Of the 2.3 who were to be harvested in each territory, almost 4 million - well over half - have already been processed.”
Green gave a short gasp. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Red narrowed her eyes and looked at Blue. “Why?”
“Why am I positive?”
“No,” Red said, “why was this done prematurely and why have you called us here to talk about it? You could have handled this on your own with little effort. You had Red replaced after all.”
Blue was not happy with the way the meeting had gone. He had put Red in her position and now she questioned him! This was further proof of the worthlessness of these two.
Was it not clear why this was a problem?
Was Red challenging him?
“You don’t feel this is a problem?” Blue asked.
“I want to know why it is a problem, and what you, that is, we will do about it,” Red replied.
“What I will do about it?” Blue said.
“What will we…what will we do about it,” Red said.
Blue continued, unfazed by her attempt to take the edge off her statement. “When these people were harvested, the testing protocol was not followed. This led to almost half of everyone tested being infected with the virus and turned loose on the streets. Almost 1 million of these were released in the Americas alone. Atlanta already had dozens of Crazies and this childish process of Red’s added to the number.”
“Crazies?” Green asked. “What are Crazies?”
Blue released a sigh and hung his head in mock futility. “You know very well what they are. Crazies are what street people call those who have been infected with the virus. The Crazies tend to congregate in pods but at times individuals will break free causing havoc in neighborhoods. They are generally harmless but street people fear them and this is something we can use to our advantage.” Blue concluded, hoping this would pacify their curiosity.
Red leaned forward resting her elbows on the cold surface of the marble table, and said, “I understand why we need the Crazies and the purpose of the virus, but what of the neural implants? This is the real purpose for the harvest, is it not?”
“Of course,” said Green. “The neural implants permit control and control permits peace and security. Security is our primary objective. In fact, it is our only objective.” Green gave a satisfied look to them both. This objective was clear, and it should be clear to the group as well, he thought.
“Well,” said Blue, “implants are the primary purpose, yes.”
Green grew very, very bored with this meeting and wished Blue had never called it. The meeting seemed to ramble on with no purpose. He was frustrated with the lack of specifics from Blue, the tired banter between them all, and the endless dodging of questions by Blue. He felt as though his backside and the leather chair he occupied were forging an alliance against the rest of his body to forever trap him in this sitting position. He thought he could bear the boredom and dull conversation no longer. He wanted this thing to end and end now! He blurted, “Why do you need us here? As Red has observed you could have stopped the harvest. Why call this meeting?”
“Stop the harvest?” Blue said. His condescending tone returned. “My dear Regent Green, I don’t want to stop it, I want to finish it.”
“What?” Red said, surprise in her voice.
“Yes,” Blue said. ”I want to finish it, but we must be more selective with our choices for the neural implants. We have too many Crazies now and questions will arise. That is the error. Red - former Red - wanted to overload the system in the Americas at my expense. She used a very obvious and childish maneuver, carried out in a very heavy-handed manner. We will finish the harvest, but there will be no more virus for now. We will eliminate those who are not suitable for the implants. This will allow local patrols to handle those Crazies now in the population and we will gain the citizens we need to fill the roles within the company - rather, companies.”
“The harvest should be stopped,” Green said, with Red nodding approval.
“No,” Blue said. Then he caught himself, “Why do you feel it should be stopped?”
He tried to make this question appear innocent.
“The harvest is a mistake, as you yourself said,” replied Red. “The removal of such a large number of the citizenry will create questions that we are not ready to answer. Even if a high percentage are compatible, we will not have the water reserves to process them.”
“And without the implants, we could be breeding our own self-made terrorists,” Green said.
Red nodded at his conclusion of her thought.
“Very well,” said Blue. There was a long, pregnant pause.
“You agree then?” Red queried.
“Yes.”
“What is your plan?” Green said.
“To stop the harvest at the 4 million mark - where it now is. We already have so many Crazies on the street now, we cannot afford more. We should be able to gather enough recruits from the current harvest to fill company needs.”
Both Red and Green were somewhat surprised by the abrupt turn of Blue’s intention, especially given the initial emotion of his presentation. They both, without realizing the other’s thoughts, considered risking personal contact with one another to discuss their options. Blue’s behavior made no sense.
Blue was not acting in a responsible way, at least given his earlier position and his previous statements. Nor was it like him to give in so easily. They both felt a sense of foreboding and even fear. They realized, again individually, they each felt a fear for their own life, and in some sense, had sympathy for the other.
They would never have admitted this, but they could not help but think of the former Red. She was most likely hanging in a donor tank somewhere, her very life being sucked from her body.
The real dangers of being Regent now engulfed them, like water flowing over a dam. They realized the security details could not protect them from the threat that was close at hand.
Green calmed his thoughts and controlled his voice. “We happily agree, then!”
“Yes, of course,” Red said, but her voice was less steady.
“Great! Fabulous! Exciting!” Blue said. “We’re dismissed then. You two please go ahead I need time to collect my papers and computer.”
“But we leave together,” said Green. There was an obvious sheen of sweat on his forehead as he stood and came under one of the room’s can light fixtures.
“Not this time,” Blue said, and his tone and look conveyed there would be no argument.
Red nor Green could now hide the displeasure in their faces, but they both filed from the room.
For just a few minutes Blue sat, leaning back in his chair. He was motionless, deep in thought. Then without moving, he said, “Enter!”
From a hidden doorway that blended with the wood grain paneling in the room, a figure stepped out. She was slender and beautiful and familiar. In a moment she passed under one of the lights in the ceiling.
Blue sat up and greeted her. “Well, Red, or should I say the former Regent Red, what do you think?”
She spoke with a cold and stiff finality. Her face was expressionless and her dark eyes menacing. “Kill them both.”
Blue smiled. He looked like a large cat about
to jump its prey. “That’s my girl,” he said. As he spoke, he pulled a snub-nosed revolver from beneath the desk. He pointed the gun at the former Regent Red and pulled the trigger. She crumbled without making a sound.
As Blue strode out of the room, he turned to one of his minions at the door, “Get that filthy mess cleaned up.”
Chapter 6
Joniver woke. Nana was tapping on his door. This morning much like any other of late.
Several weeks had passed since the fire. He and Nana had been relocated to another flat, a little further south of their previous apartment. While they missed Peachtree Tower, they were growing accustomed to the new neighborhood.
Joniver had not discussed the night at the Station with anyone - not even Nana.
“Joniver! Are you awake? Olinar’s here!”
He pulled back his sheets and slung his long legs over the side of his mat. From his sitting position, he reached for his pants and shirt.
He yawned. “Yaaahss...Yes...Nana, I’m awake. Tell that dingle-doofus Olinar to calm down! I’m coming!”
He smiled.
Joniver dressed and walked out of his room. He heard Nana quiz Olinar about his father.
“Did the medic think he had a heart attack?” she asked.
“He told Dad, since he didn’t die, it most likely wasn’t a heart attack. He seems to be doing much better. You know, we had to wait about 5 hours and never did get to see the nurse. We found out that the regional doctor doesn’t come to this part of the city for another 6 to 10 weeks.”
“Well, I hope he feels better,” Nana said.
“Yeah, thanks, Ms. Ruth. I got him some pills to help ease the pain,” Olinar said. “He’s not eating much, but the medic said his appetite will come back within a couple of weeks or so.”
“Pills?” Nana asked.
“Yeah,” Olinar replied, “for the pain." He motioned to Joniver for them to leave, and they eased toward the door.
“Olinar,” Nana kept talking. “Where did you get the pills?” Her tone changed and was serious. Her question was pointed. Her eyes narrowed a bit as if she was a lawyer, zeroing in on a point during a cross examination.
“The Underground,” Olinar answered without missing a beat.
“The Underground!” Nana said, throwing her hands to her chest. “Olinar you didn’t go alone did you? You know how dangerous it is there. The gangs and the crime there…” her voice faded. She shook her head as if trying to ward off a distant, unpleasant memory.
“No, I didn’t go alone,” Olinar said. Joniver looked at Olinar and shook his head just so Olinar could see.
Nana saw, like Nana always saw. “Joniver! I have told you, in no uncertain terms, not to go to The Underground!” She stood shaking her finger and her head, at him.
“Nana!” Joniver said, “I didn’t say I went! Olinar didn’t say I went!”
“Young man,” she said, “you went with him or I’m John Brown. And I’ve told you I don’t want you there. That place is not safe and you will get yourself in trouble.” She took a breath. “You steal apples there, you won’t come back with your hands!” she said, as she turned to resume her work in the kitchen area.
Joniver and Olinar shot looks at each other and then as one, looked at Nana with the exact expression. They couldn’t believe what they had just heard.
She could feel their bewilderment, and looked over her shoulder. “Seriously, Joniver,” she said in a calmer voice, “you actually thought I didn’t know?” She shook her head and made a tusk sound with her tongue. “You boys, get outta here before I whip you both!” She smiled and waved.
“Nana!” Joniver said.
“What?” she asked. “Oh! You want your good morning hug and kiss!" She said with a slight chuckle, and she walked toward him, drying her hands on her apron.
Olinar could not stand it, and he cackled with laughter.
“No, Nana,” Joniver said, “I want some breakfast!”
She smacked his face with her hand, and it made an innocent thwack! on his cheek. “Well sit down, and I’ll put something in front of you eating machines.”
After breakfast, which Joniver thought was wonderful as usual, they helped Nana clean up and then headed out the door.
“Joniver,” Nana asked, “I am heading over to help Emily with planning Naomi’s funeral. Can you pick up the yellow tag for me?”
“Sure,” he said outwardly, but groaned inwardly. Olinar smiled at his best friend.
Joniver looked back at Olinar. Getting the yellow tag was a pain in the neck, but he was sure he could talk Olinar into going with him. Misery loves company, he thought.
“And Olinar,” she said as they crossed the threshold, “don’t you dare go back to The Underground. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said and he meant it.
They walked out. As soon as they had gotten outside, as usual Olinar popped Joniver with questions.
“Does your Nana know you were taken to the Station the night of the fire?”
“Why are you bringing that up again?” Joniver asked. “I don’t want to talk about it, and you know it.”
Olinar pleaded, “C’mon, Man! You always say that, and you’ve been putting me off for weeks. I really want to know. You are a real celebrity with everyone. You went into the Station and came out alive and unharmed! We want to know. I want to know! Please, man! What happened?”
“Of course Nana knows,” Joniver finally said in an exasperated tone, “weird thing, she knew about everything as soon as I was home.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. I guess somebody saw me being put in the van and told her. She knew I had been released, too, which I don’t get.”
“Humph,” Olinar said with a shrug. “What was it like?”
“The whole thing was weird,” Joniver said. “They were rough getting me into the van, but once we got there, they were really polite; polite like a bunch of robots. Almost as if a switch flipped when we entered the building. They got water for me, and asked if I needed anything, and - “
“What did you say?” Olinar interrupted.
“I said I wanted a ride home.” He chuckled.
Olinar laughed as well. “Seriously, man. I was worried when I heard. I don’t know of anybody - and I mean anybody - who’s been taken to the station and released so quick. Did they question you or hit you or torture you or anything?”
“No, no, none of what you’d expect. Like I say, it was weird. I’m glad it was weird, but it was weird.”
“Were you scared?”
“Oh, yeah...I was extremely scared and I don’t mind admitting it. The place was as creepy as everything you’ve heard, but it was creepy because it was so…” Joniver paused and thought a minute, “…because it was so sterile. Like it was being cleaned, even when it wasn’t being cleaned.”
“That is weird…,” Olinar said, his voice trailing off. “Why did they pick you up?”
“Uh, I...uh, I mean, I don’t know,” Joniver lied. He had never told anyone the truth about the sword and he was not about to start now, not even with Olinar.
The sun was warm and the air crisp as they walked and talked. Joniver found out more about Olinar’s dad and Olinar asked a little more about the Station and what had happened. He agreed with Joniver, as he had many times in their discussions, a Crazy had not started the fire. Neither of them could agree on who might have started it or why, however. Possibly, it was just as people had been saying, and it was bad wiring.
“Hey, Big O, you can go on with me here to get Nana’s tag, right?”
“Oh, no, sorry,” Olinar replied, “I’ve got to do some stuff for my dad.”
“Olinar, I know my Nana gets all out there with her safety crap and stuff, but, man, don’t go back to the Underground. I hope you’re not heading there now.”
Olinar drew back a bit and smirked. “No, man, but thanks,” he said and meant it. ”I’ll come by tomorrow. See ya then!”
And he was o
ff. Joniver stood there a minute watching Olinar jog away.
Olinar lied. He was not going to help his dad. He walked back to his flat and filed a report. His report went to North Command: Joniver had not been questioned nor was there any evidence he had been harmed.
Olinar recommended that plans proceed as agreed on. This was the report he had hoped to file for weeks.
His report was acknowledged and he went out for his surveillance duty.
***
Joniver walked the six blocks to a building that was once used as a theater. Literature said The Fox Theater had been a magical place, but the building was far from magical now. There were no windows and it was dark. The carpet was torn and rolled, which caused many of the elderly folks a tripping hazard. And it smelled! My goodness, Joniver thought, this is not a place for humans! And why would anyone name a building after an animal like a fox!
He hated it here and felt like it was Nana’s job to get the yellow tags. The cards were a yellowish/greenish color with embossed raised letters in black, so they were called yellow tags. Getting the yellow tags was an irksome duty, it was especially onerous today. How I wish Olinar was here!
Joniver found his district and then his neighborhood area and got in line. He felt himself growing old, simply standing and doing nothing in this stupid line. He thought he would develop dementia as he looked around and waited for some mind-numbed company bureaucrat to pass out plastic cards for redemption at some pathetic company store.
Joniver was insulted to be part of this crowd. The people smelled, they talked funny, and they acted as though this was all there was in the world.
Maybe this is all there is, he thought. What then?
“That can’t be right,” he said under his breath. Joniver knew better. Put him in charge and his way would be better.
These yellow tags are printed by the company and then redeemed for company rations at a company store. That’s idiotic, Joniver thought. They are, from a practical viewpoint, worthless, since once outside, many of these old people will be robbed of their yellow tags. After thieving the old people, the gangs sell them to dealers, who in turn sell them back to the old people who stood in this stupid line to get them. Yellow tags are sold at a nice profit by the dealers, and dealers live in the best flats, eat the best food, and live a better life.
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