by Sam Lippert
“Excellent observation!” Prescilla waggled he fork in Remi's direction, then turned to Nathan. “You do pick the smart ones, don't you dear?” The leader turned back to Remi. “However, your observation is one that doesn't take into account the effects of mass media, religion and other propaganda tools.
“In the middle ages, Feudalism stayed in place for a tremendously long time, primarily because the serfs believed that it was the order that God had put on the universe, and this belief was strengthened by the Church of the time.
“On Rand, things are similar. Already built into the mindset of the people here is the philosophy of the Makers and Takers. However, no Takers were allowed to settle here, so the society had no scapegoats, and no one who felt consigned to poverty. This was a society of Makers, with opportunity for all who had the will to work hard and seize it.”
“But you said there was something more than just the predisposition of the population at work on Rand.” Nathan was still a little confused, or maybe it was the grogginess of whatever knock-out drugs had been employed.
“That's right!” Prescilla was getting fired up. “The first generation of settlers found a planet that needed to be tamed, and the 'rugged individualism' that is at the core of Libertarian/Objectivism is perfect for that. Although they had led rather comfortable lives before coming to Rand, the colonists were well educated and more ready for the hardships of colonization than you might expect.
“As is typical of most colonial situations, the first generation established farms and 'craft style' businesses. Everyone had the ability to be in business for themselves and support a family, even though no one was, economically speaking, more than we would consider lower middle class. The succeding generations eased into mass production and retail outlets, as well as various support industries such as advertising and media. During this period things began to stratify, although a majority of the population were still firmly middle class, a few rich and poor began to emerge.
“Three generations ago was when the conglomerates started to form and grow. Businesses consolidated in both friendly and hostile takeovers. This consolidation began to drive down wages for those who were not business owners, because quite often one of the conglomerates was the sole employer in a particular town. Many individual business owners found themselves in direct competition with a conglomerate and were forced out of business. During this period Rand saw a shrinking middle class and large increase in the poor.
“But, here is where it gets interesting. One of the first industries to consolidate was the media! Roughly eight generations after the first colonists came to Rand two companies owned ninety-five percent of the planet's media outlets! These two companies regularly run programming that nurtures the belief that anyone can make the climb from impoverished to rich, and the millions of poor on the planet were poor because somehow they choose to be.”
“But that's ridiculous!” Remi could not believe what she was hearing. “It is well known that the better off you are economically the more access to opportunity you have, in the form of education, business connections, access to capital, etc.”
“Exactly. But, the Randian media fed the preexisting cultural attitudes and created a very unnatural situation where the poor, in huge numbers, were not having outcomes that met their cultural expectations, and even though they were doing everything 'right' as far as the cultural norms were concerned, they still blamed themselves for the lack of positive outcomes!” At this point Prescilla once again paused for a bite of her nearly forgotten pie.
“It was an unnatural situation being kept in place by those who benefited the most from it. That was why I felt I had to get involved. I was the only one who could show these people the route to a better life, but only after we brought the status quo to its knees!” She banged the table once with one of her prostheses. “It's so great that you are here to see this, Nathan!”
“About that, Prescilla.” Nathan flashed one of his winning smiles. “As historic as this event is, you know as well as I do that history is very rarely made overnight, and I can't stay on Rand for the months or years that it will take for this mess to be resolved. I need to leave Rand, preferably in the next day or two.”
“My compatriots tell me that you have roughly ten kilos of gold on board Nola. As I am sure you are aware, revolutions cost money, and when it is a revolution on behalf of the poor, it is very difficult to gather the funds necessary to cover those costs. Ten kilos of gold, while not a huge sum by any means, will certainly help.” Nathan felt the cold of her prosthesis as she stroked his cheek. “Between that, and the fact that you are, in some small way, the father of our revolution, I think we can make an arrangement.”
“That just leaves the little matter of cargo,” Nathan responded. “You know as well as I do that we need to lift with something.”
“Cargo I think I can help you with, sweetheart.” Prescilla smiled. “Joe, why don't you cut Captain Daniels and his friend loose.”
“Are you sure that is wise?” the lieutenant said, giving his leader a questioning look.
“Joe, we are brokering a deal with these people. They deserve a chance to look over their cargo. For that they need to be cut loose.”
* * *
After receiving a stern warning from the spaceport concerning the current state of civil disorder on Rand, with reference to sections of the spaceport contract indemnifying the owner of the port against any loss, up to and including death, as a result of the current uprising, showing by video the ability to pay port fees for at least the next month, and being advised that outgoing traffic was currently grounded, hence the need to be able to pay a month of port fees, all of which took slightly more than the five minutes of oxy that had been available, Winnette grounded the courier ship next to Nola. She had to rely mostly on the autopilot, as she had started to feel the effects of hypoxia before she even broke orbit. The ship's air scoops had opened as soon as the instruments had detected breathable atmosphere, not only keeping her from losing consciousness, but preventing death. Winnette had never been so glad to be safely on the ground.
“We have landed, madam.” The Mark 7 AI informed her. “And, as you can see, my success rate is still ninety-nine point seven three percent. I am opening the canopy. Will you be needing anything else?” Winnette's 'coffin' unsealed and began to open.
“I think that will do it. Once I am out, just reseal and go into standby. I will wake you if I need you.”
Extricating herself from the Mark 7 was a little more than Winnette had bargained for. The combined effects of hypersleep and her recent hypoxia made the contortions necessary to both remove the various tubes from her body and exit the craft an order of magnitude more difficult than entering had been, but in the end it was accomplished, and she was soon buzzing Nola's external intercom.
“Winnette, please tell me that is you!” The frightened AI sounded like she was ten and had misplaced her parents at an amusement park.
“Nola, honey,” the KII agent responded in her best motherly tone. “If you turn on your rear hatch camera, you will see that it is me. In fact, I'm sure Nathan would want you to do that before opening up anyway.” Winnette smiled and waved at the camera.
“Identity verified by voice print and facial recognition.” Nola said in a flat emotionless tone.
“That's quite business-like of you, sweetie!” Winnette said as the hatch opened.
“Sorry Sis, hatch security is handled by a subroutine that I haven't been given authorization to reprogram yet. Omany instructed me not to open up for anyone other than crew, but I assume that injunction does not extend to family. You don't mind me calling you sis, do you? I know Remi calls you that, and she and I are practically like sisters now, so by logical extension...”
“No, it's fine Nola,” Winnette said as she entered the hatch. “Or should I say Sister?” There was an eruption of giggles from the AI, which changed to sobs almost immediately once the hatch had closed.
“Winnette, what a
re we going to do? I still haven't heard from anybody! I keep trying to think happy thoughts, but every two hundred microseconds I come back to the thought 'what if they are dead somewhere?' Hell, sister, I don't even know if Nathan has a Will! What happens to me if he dies? Will I get wiped and the ship sold as scrap? Or will I have to learn to live with a new captain and crew just as I was getting used to this one?”
“It's nice to see you are genuinely concerned for their well-being, sis!” At this point Winnette was making her way to the control room.
“Awwww, Winnette, that's not fair! My processors work at roughly one thousand times the speed of your human ones! I exhausted all the worried thoughts about them eons ago, and then became terrified about what would happen to me!”
Winnette had made it to the control room. She didn't know why, but whenever she was aboard a ship and there was some sort of an emergency, she was drawn to the ship's control room, even though in most modern spaceships, especially one with as sophisticated an AI as Nola's, virtually all of the ship's functions could be handled from anywhere on board. She was unprepared for what she saw on the view screen.
When she last saw Nola's avatar on Nexus, her features were very generic, but were quite definitely the features of a young woman. The tear-stained face that confronted her now was that of a pre-adolescent girl. Furthermore, that girl could pass for Winnette's true sister, if she had one. She found both aspects of Nola's visible self a tad disturbing.
“Don't worry, Nola,” Winnette said in her most soothing voice. “You are not alone anymore. I will keep you company and do what I can to help you find our friends but, most importantly, I promise I won't leave you until they are home safe and sound. Meanwhile, let's apply a little logic to the situation, shall we?”
“How do you mean that sis?” The AI sniffed back some virtual tears, and gave Winnette a puzzled look.
“First, it is probably safe to assume that if our friends are in some kind of trouble, it likely has to do with this 'revolution,' as Nathan has visited Rand on numerous occasions without incident. Second, it is highly unlikely that their current situation has anything to do with the government as they are notoriously hands off, especially when it comes to off-worlders in general, and traders in particular. So, it is safe to assume that whatever problems they are having has to do with the rebels.” Nola was wide-eyed with amazement.
“Nola, please comb the global network and get me any and all information you can on this Prescilla Anderson. I have a feeling she is the key.” Winnette sat down and proceeded to take in everything that Nola was streaming to the view screens.
* * *
With proper preparation a student of the Ways of Verstaten is capable of many things while unconscious, in some respects being more powerful than while fully conscious. Without the proper preparation, however, unconsciousness is every bit as debilitating to a Verstaten priest as it is to the average human. No one was more aware of this than Omany as he returned from true unconsciousness for the first time in decades.
He was immediately assaulted by each of his five senses. His sense of touch was plagued by thousands of needle points, at a level that stopped just short of pain. His hearing was home to a resolute high pitched whine. Even with his eyes closed he could perceive a light so bright that his eyelids were incapable of completely filtering it out. His sense of smell was inundated with the smell of sulfur. Finally, his mouth was filled with the taste of rotten milk.
While a sensory onslaught of this nature would be torturous for most humans, thanks to Omany's training it was not completely debilitating, however it rose to well above the nuisance level. On a ten point scale, where one was nuisance and ten torturous, current conditions would be considered an eight. Coherent thought was difficult, but not impossible, but the state of relaxation necessary to utilize any of his Verstaten abilities was unattainable. Omany was in a sensory overload chamber. This, in and of itself, gave Omany useful information.
Sensory overload chambers are, exactly as the name implies, the exact opposite of sensory deprivation chambers. Where a sensory deprivation chamber is generally utilized to calm the occupant and help induce a meditative state, sensory overload chambers are meant to keep the occupant from relaxing. The chambers were originally developed as a method of ensuring sleep deprivation, thereby making a captive more pliable during questioning. Although considered torture by most civilized cultures and no longer openly used by modern intelligence gathering or police agencies, the chambers were still commonplace among two groups: Psychedelic drug users and the Elite of the Verstaten Order.
Omany immediately ruled out the first group. While the psychedelics whose effects could be enhanced by the use of an overload chamber were quite easily available on Rand, he could fathom no reason why such users would put him in such a chamber.
The Elite, however, utilized the chamber in one of two ways: as a training device, and to incapacitate a 'wayward' priest, generally as a prelude to trial for violation of the Code. In training, the chamber is active for only one or two senses at a time, to give an acolyte practice at tuning out sensory noise in order to achieve a meditative state. It is well known that even one of the Elite could not disregard all five stimulations provided by the chamber at once. Omany, however, was far above Acolyte status, and, in fact, his status as High Priest placed him just below Elite.
Although it was possible his reasoning was being occluded by the SOC, he could find no logical pathway that would lead to him being in the chamber for being a 'wayward' priest. Granted, he had violated the Code by training Remini, but no one, other than the Princess herself, had been aware of this fact until the events leading up to Nola's departure from the Consortium. After his awakening in Axis, with the Princess in attendance and her utter lack of surprise, Omany had been aware that Mory would be compelled to report him. Such reports were required to be made in person, however, and transit time to Verstat from the Consortium was at least three weeks for any vessel other than a Courier, and he thought it highly unlikely Mory had access to one of those. Besides, unless a priest has a record of open hostility towards the Elite, they are always given the opportunity to make their way to Verstat of their own accord.
“Verstaten Priest,” the metallic sounds of a digitally disguised voice replaced the high pitched whine in Omany's ears. “I call you by that for the first and last time, so you know it is you that I address. Henceforth you will have no name, no title, no identity. You will be referred to simply as 'thirteen.' Today begins your re-education process. You are no longer a child of Verstat. You are mine, and you will join the twelve others in my service.
“It is time for your first lesson.” The inputs to Omany's senses that had been at a level eight suddenly increased to twelve.
He wished that passing out was an option.
* * *
Nathan let out a long whistle as Prescilla guided him and Remi into a large warehouse, packed floor to ceiling with what appeared to be thousands of different items.
“Where did you get all of this?” Remi asked.
“Donations to the cause. The one thing that the People of the Revolution are short on is gold, due to the basic unfairness of the Randian economy. However, those who still have family farms or businesses have goods and services that they can donate, especially when one of the conglomerates have choked them to near bankruptcy. They donate the goods to us in hopes that we can either use them or find a way to sell them.”
“I imagine that selling them is tough, as it puts you in the position of competing with the conglomerates, which is why these businesses were in trouble in the first place.” Nathan had moved off and was looking for cargo, but Remi was far more interested in how the Revolution was being run.
“Whenever possible, we try to get the goods into the hands of Independent Traders such as Nathan and yourself. We have contacts at nearly all of the spaceports, and they advise us when a ship touches down that might be interested in cargo. If yesterday had not required all of our p
ersonnel, we probably would have come to you, instead of you having to come to us.” Prescilla smiled. “Either way, we would be on this tour together.”
“But, if off-planet trade is such an important part of funding your Revolution, why ground all off-planet traffic?” Remi asked.
“While trade is important to us, it is not our only source of funding. We have also established a network that allows us to sell and ship items to individuals and small businesses all over the planet. In this way we make it easier for those who are inclined to not patronize the conglomerates.
“The embargo hurts the conglomerates far more than it does us, as they take advantage of low wages and lack of regulation here to produce massive amounts of goods for export. For this reason grounding off planet traffic has always been a key component of our strategy. The timing of our revolutionary decree yesterday was based around our ability to be able to enforce the embargo.” For a brief moment, Remi could see the icy look of a master strategist in Prescilla's eyes.
Before the conversation could go any further, Nathan came striding up to them with a mischievous grin on his face.
“I've found our cargo,” he said, as excited as a kid in a candy store, then turned to Prescilla. “We will need about half a kilo of gold to pay our spaceport fees, and to resupply the Nola. You get the rest, in exchange for everything in location R223. I think you'll agree you are getting quite a deal!”
Prescilla consulted the warehouse inventory and immediately chuckled upon reading the contents of location R223. “I definitely am getting the better end of the bargain, I think... But, where the hell are you taking it?”
“T'rv'l,” Nathan replied. “It's a bit of a hike, but still within Nola's range.”
“I think I see.” Prescilla said. “It's a bit of a gamble though, don't you think? I can let you keep some extra gold, in case you need it to resupply there.”