The Powers of the Earth (Aristillus Book 1)

by Travis J I Corcoran

  Hugh looked around the apartment. With Selena and Allyson off shopping, it was just him. He shrugged and grabbed his jacket. Then, after a moment of thought, he grabbed a hat too. Louisa might be right about Mike Martin's rent-a-thugs hunting them. He pulled the brim low over his eyes before stepping out of the apartment.

  The nearest jitney stop was a block away. Hugh decided to walk it instead of calling in for a pickup - a bit of exercise might burn off some of his sour lethargy. He looked at the apartments and storefronts as he walked. To say that Aristillus was an urban design failure was an understatement: there was no design. No regulation, no new urbanism, nothing. The walls of the tunnels had buildings in every style and no style at all thrown up next to each other. The advertising - both meat-space billboards and data tags - was gaudy and unchecked.

  Hugh reached the bus stop. The display said that he had a seven minute minute wait until the Three Apples jitney, or five for the Gman jitney.

  The two restaurants right next to the jitney stop were a good example of the lack of regulation. The coffee shop was set back from the sidewalk and had concrete chess and Go tables in its little courtyard. And then, right next to it, the sushi place extended five meters further out, ending right at the sidewalk, and had an entirely different design. Who put a sushi place next to a coffee place? It made no sense. And aesthetically, there was no thematic unity, no design to tie it all together.

  That said, it was nice to have June Bug Coffee right down the block from their apartment, and more than once they'd all decided, after a few hours of sitting and drinking coffee, to grab an early dinner at Edo Sushi next door. But still, even if both things were good, there was no synergy. No plan.

  Hugh was distracted from his thoughts when the Kasmir jitney pulled up. Six passengers got off and the vehicle accelerated away. Four walked away but two nodded to Hugh and settled in to wait for the Gman jitney with him.

  Hugh turned his attention back to the June Bug and Edo and shook his head. A better design would involve a lot of changes: a shared courtyard instead of just one asymmetrical one, unified signage, some thought to color scheme, a good plan as to what businesses fit together well, access to a well-planned light rail system -

  The two other passengers stood from the bench. Hugh turned and saw that the Gman jitney was arriving. He swiped his Lunar Escrow and Trade debit card and stepped on, and then reached for one of the grab bars as the jitney accelerated away from the curb.

  He looked out the window as Trentham Apartments, June Bug, Edo, and all the other neighborhood fixtures disappeared behind him. They'd had a lot of good times there. He had to admit that the Triangle district was a pretty decent place to rent an apartment. It was pure dumb luck, given the lack of oversight, but it was true.

  It wasn't as cool as the Conveyor Belt district, of course. That's where he had wanted to get an apartment. The 'CB' was just two blocks long by three wide, but it had two nightclubs - with a third and a fourth opening soon, jam spaces that the local bands performed in, and even a small gallery. Very hip. Hugh grimaced and looked down at the floor of the jitney as he remembered Louisa's response to his idea - she'd said that he had "pathetically fallen for the seductive bourgeoisie enticements of a separatist classist regime.”

  He flushed a little, and tried to put it out of mind. Lunch. Lunch would be good. He'd found Benue River, a Nigerian place, through the Cowen Wiki, and over the past few weeks it had become his new favorite.

  Four minutes later he signaled for a stop and hopped off at the restaurant. When he stepped onto the sidewalk, though, he looked at the storefront and was confused. Where the door should be was a ribbed sheet of plastic plywood. He looked to the left and right and then saw that since he'd last been here a few days ago the restaurant had started an expansion.

  Hugh shook his head. There was so much construction, so many people arriving, so much of everything that it was hard to keep up with the changes. It was sort of exciting, really.

  But he knew that excitement came at a price. With no Bureau of Industrial Planning and no Construction Jobs Preservation Act everyone was free to use robot-assisted labor. Like right there: one guy was running a bricklaying machine and building a new outdoor patio for the restaurant. There's no way that would happen on Earth.

  Hugh shook his head. It was so simple, and yet these expats were so dense they couldn't see the truth right in front of their noses: automation meant less employment, which meant lower construction prices, which meant a wasteful amount of construction. Things changed in Aristillus, all the time, for no reason. What was so wrong with Benue River last week, when it was smaller?

  Hugh pushed through the glass front door. Inside he saw that the dining area held new tables, the walls were painted, and the stainless steel counter had been extended and moved a few meters. One thing hadn't changed, though: Ewoma was still behind the counter. Louisa had taken a dislike to her, and to the whole restaurant, but Hugh liked her - she was a cute and enthusiastic kid with a huge smile. She should be in school, and not working here, but that was her parents’ fault, not hers, so he was always nice to her.

  He walked up to the counter. "Hey, Ewoma.”

  Ewoma looked at him oddly for a moment, then gave him a smile. Not as enthusiastic as usual, but it was there. She must be having a bad day.

  "What's new?"

  "Well, I saw on the net that you and your friends released a new video about how bad Aristillus is. And I read that the Earth governments destroyed Gamma's satellites again."

  "Yeah, I -.” He shifted uncomfortably. "Uh... what've you been up to?"

  "We finished the expansion. I helped lay out the new seating area, and the new catering kitchen."

  Hugh nodded. "It looks good. I like the colors."

  Ewoma smiled curtly. "I picked them. Also, I did some of the tile at the transition. The robots can't do that yet, because the sub-floor is uneven."

  Hugh looked. "Tile laying? You told me you want to run a business some day. Shouldn't you be studying economics and planning and stuff? You don't need to get your hands dirty with grunt work."

  Ewoma's smile cooled another degree toward absolute zero. "I had fun doing it. I got to work with my dad." She fixed him with her gaze. "What do you want for lunch?"

  Jeez. She was in a mood. "Uh... I'll have fried plantains and the beef-and-spinach stew."

  "We're out of the stew, but Yinka is making some right now if you want to wait for a minute."

  "Sure. I probably shouldn't even be eating the beef, though."

  Ewoma failed to ask the question, so Hugh prompted her. "You know. For the obvious reasons..."

  Ewoma sighed. "Like?"

  "Did you know that it takes sixteen kilos of grain to raise just one kilo of meat? If there's a quarter of a kilo of beef in the stew, then that could have been enough to feed sixteen people on grain."

  "If you say so." She looked over her shoulder. "Yinka, is the stew ready yet?"

  "Soon!"

  Ewoma looked back at him. "There's enough beef for everyone, so what's the problem?"

  Hugh smiled sadly. Ewoma was homeschooled and she was ignorant of everything she should be learning in Ecology class. It was an opportunity for him to do his good deed for the day, though. "Well, is there enough meat to go around? Not everyone would say yes. You have to look at the bigger picture." He paused thoughtfully. "You know, you should consider carrying some vegetarian or vegan stews. More sustainable."

  "We do offer vegetarian stews." Ewoma's smile was entirely gone. "You chose the beef."

  Hugh flushed and tried to formulate a response, but before he had one Ewoma grabbed a towel and stepped away from the counter, pushing past the big quiet guy who was always manning the fryer.

  Hugh followed down his side of the counter. "Hey, Ewoma, wait a second." She looked up from buffing the refrigerator. "Here's the point - there's only so much land you can grow food on. I'm just saying that maybe we - all of us, as a culture - should think through the mo
ral aspects of how we allocate that land. Maybe less meat and more vegetables are the right way to divide the pie? I mean, I'm not blaming you." He paused. "And I'm not blaming me either. It's an emergent phenomena - culture, the market economy, whatever."

  Hugh paused, waiting for a response. Ewoma looked at him and said nothing. He coughed. "They're not making more farm land, you know."

  "They are, actually. We buy beef from Camanez Beef and Pork, and Hector's expanded his farm tunnels twice already this year."

  Damn it! Why was he coming off like such an idiot? His point was so simple, and yet he couldn't get it out. This was so simple that everyone back home understood it, and yet Ewoma had him tied in knots. He shook his head and gave up. "Well, uh... on the bright side, at least I'm eating local, right?"

  Ewoma smiled perfunctorily. A bell rang behind her and she turned to the kitchen pass-through where Yinka was sliding a bowl of beef stew across to her. She took it, turned, and put it on Hugh's tray before turning away again.

  Hugh shook his head at the unfairness of it all. How had he gotten so tangled in rhetorical tricks?

  He sighed and picked up his tray, and walked away from the counter to the new section of the restaurant. He found a table facing away from the counter and sat.

  Hugh suddenly realized: Ewoma wasn't pissed about land use or eating meat; it was their videos that had set her off. She'd said as much at the beginning. Then another thought occurred to him: If Ewoma was this upset, might other expats be angry? Even violent?

  He realized he was facing out of the restaurant, toward the glass window that fronted on the street. He shrunk in his chair and pulled his hat lower. And then he realized he needed to call Louisa, Allyson, and Selena and tell them about the mood in the street. Maybe they should start doing more take-out.

  * * *

  Ewoma walked into kitchen, pulled out her phone, and dialed.

  "Is this Mike Martin? Mr. Martin, it's Ewoma. From Benue River. The restaurant."

  "I've got a question. You know in your feed this morning you said you had a bounty out for finding that Hugh guy and his friends? Was that serious or what it a joke?"

  Ewoma stepped back to let one of the kitchen workers slide past her. "Why? Because he's in the restaurant right now.”

  Chapter 88

  2064: Homestyle Apartments, Aristillus, Lunar Nearside

  Dewitt put the jammer on the table and turned it on.

  Sergeant Kindig pointed to it. "I heard from one of the guys at work that those don't work here."

  "Don't work? What are you talking about?"

  "The guy said that jammers aren't really jammers."

  Lummus gave him a look. "The fuck does that mean?"

  Kindig shrugged. "He said that modern jammers don't block radio waves and stuff, what they do is broadcast a computer command that tells other devices that they don't have permission to take video or record audio or whatever."

  "And, what, being on the moon stops that? Sounds like an urban myth to me. Cars, guns, computers: everything that works on Earth works here in Aristillus. Shit, most of it even works out on the surface in vacuum."

  Kindig shrugged. "I'm not gonna argue it, I'm just telling you what he said. And what he said is that jammers broadcast a command that tells other devices to shut down, but the chip factories on Aristillus are illegal and don't build that command in. So jammers work on legal devices built on Earth, but they don't do shit on stuff built up here."

  Matt frowned. That actually made a weird sort of sense. Should he detail one of his men to look into it?

  He thought for a moment. No. Even if it was true, what could they do about it? And besides, the need for stealth was almost over - this would all be over, one way or another, soon enough.

  "Alright, good information. I'll take it under advisement. Now, guys, I've got to talk to you about something serious."

  Sanderfur met his eyes. "Good, because I've got to bring up serious shit too."

  Chapter 89

  2064: Icarcus Crater, Lunar Nearside

  John pulled himself to the top of the boulder, swung one knee up, then stood. They'd been hiking the flat plain of the crater floor for the last few hours and he wanted some variety - even clambering up the side of the RV-sized rock was a relief. He shielded the sun from his faceplate with one gloved hand and looked ahead. More of the same for a couple of kilometers, all the way to the crater wall. He turned around and picked out the Dogs half a klick back. Three of them were capering around, obviously still playing their game, while one walked alongside. John turned his head up. "Gamma, still with us?"

  "Yes, John. Are you interested in resuming our last conversation?"

  "Sure."

  "We were talking about The Moon is a Harsh Mistress."

  "Right. You were telling me that railguns were -"

  Max interrupted. "What are you two talking about?"

  "Railguns. Aren't you busy playing your game?"

  "No, I got hit in the head by an orc. I'm unconscious until I make a health save."

  John grinned and gave in to the urge to needle Max a bit. "So you're not fighting? What are you, some sort of pacifist?"

  Max snarled. "I'm fighting. I'm just knocked out for a little bit."

  John put up his hands. "Woah. OK, just joking." Then he realized that he was standing hundreds of meters away from Max. He put his hands down.

  Max harrumphed then asked, "So, Gamma, what were you saying about railguns?"

  "I was saying that railguns are theoretically a useful technology and that I have constructed one at my facility at Sinus Lunicus."

  "Useful for what?" John asked.

  "Launching satellites. Launching frozen volatiles from the rings of Saturn for terraforming the inner planets. Ejecting surplus atmospheric mass from Venus -"

  John waved his hand. "Enough science fiction."

  "But I also assert that railguns as a tool for military action against Earth governments -"

  Max growled in approval. "Attacking the groundhogs? Finally! Let's drop some rocks on their heads. I've got the first target: BuSuR headquarters."

  "No. I was saying that using railguns as a tool for military action against Earth governments is counterproductive.”

  "What! Why?"

  John could hear the disappointment in Max's voice - and the anger.

  "Because it won't accomplish anything useful."

  Max sneered, "You think that violence never solved anything, is that it?"

  "I know from your BookShare records that you've been reading a lot of the same science fiction as John has, and more besides. If I may hazard a guess, you're looking for an opportunity to use a Heinlein quote, aren't you?"

  Max harrumphed. "Never mind."

  "My model suggests that the quote you were thinking of using was this: 'Anyone who clings to the historically untrue - and thoroughly immoral - doctrine that violence never solves anything I would advise to conjure up the ghosts of Napoleon Bonaparte and the Duke of Wellington and let them debate it. The ghost of Hitler would referee. Violence, naked force, has settled more issues in history than has any other factor; and the contrary opinion is wishful thinking at its worst. Breeds that forget this basic truth have always paid for it with their lives and their freedoms.' The quote comes from Heinlein's Starship Troopers, page seventy-two in the October 1959 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. It is spoken by Lieutenant Colonel Jean V. Dubois, retired."

  Max scowled. "Yes. That's my point. The dog killers picked this fight - burning your sats, hijacking ships, killing people at Aristillus - and we should be fighting back. And you should help us. And if you've already got a railgun then we should start now!"

  "We are arguing at cross purposes, Max. You suggest that violence sometimes solves things. I do not disagree. My point is merely that it would be incorrect to model an attack against Earth governments as a strictly military endeavor. I assert that it is more useful to model Earth society and government with a much fin
er granularity, paying specific attention to factions and demographics. I suggest that a military attack would be perceived as an attack on an entire society. If you look at the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor of 1941 or the Al Qaida attacks of 2001 you will note that these transformed the attitudes of populations previously reluctant to engage in war. When the Sudan Alliance nuked Baltimore the populace supported the nuclear counterstrikes and the Emergency Powers Act, even though just a month before the US government had the lowest approval ratings -"

  "So you're afraid of war. Just like John."

  "I'm not afraid of war, Max." John stared at Max through the in helmet display. Max stared back at him defiantly. "I'm the only one in this conversation who's ever fought, so watch your mouth."

  Max held the stare for a moment, then looked away. John waited. Max looked at him a second time and John held the stare, and this time when Max broke he didn't just look to one side but turned his eyes to the ground.

  John checked the display - eighteen hours until he could call Darcy and arrange a pickup. The stress was eating at him, and he didn't have the reserves to tolerate Max questioning his bravery.

  Gamma went on as if nothing had happened - and perhaps, lost in his models and simulations, he didn't realize anything had. "Max, I do not believe that I am 'afraid' of war, although the question of the subjective experience of emotions is an interesting one. What I am saying is that an attack with railguns would not be seen merely as an insult from one legitimate actor to another."

  "What do you mean 'legitimate actor'?"

  "I mean governments."

  Max erupted. "Governments are bullshit!"

  John scowled. It was bad that Max was the Dog equivalent of an Angry Young Man. It was worse that he was a military history freak. But combine those two traits and add in Max's naive acceptance of Mike's anarchocapitalist craziness and the result was a canine lunatic who not only thought that the current global system should be nuked into the stone age...but that any group that held a vote to build a preschool was guilty of war crimes.