“That leads to a far more troubling scenario, yet one that seems more plausible: Idiot copycats. Idiots! I suppose I could stroke my ego by considering them a sign that others are finally noticing my actions and thinking about them, this fool shows no meaningful thought. An idiot like this will only harm my goals.” He fell silent for a moment before giving out an irritated sigh. “Could I have foreseen this? Is this my fault?"
Anhukarr stared at the waterfall. There was no peace coming to his mind, just anger. After a short time, he stood and began to pace. The wavecast display turned off automatically. Anhukarr wondered if Rann Pillane, or that ass Rann Deryala, had heard the news and, if so, what they thought of it. Deryala was probably stupid enough to believe it. Pillane? Hopefully not.
"I can't leave this to chance," he told himself. "She is not my primary goal, far from it, but I do not want her thinking that I am so childish as to smash windows in some feeble-minded protest against vaguely understood concepts. I... I must go slow, but I must... Ah! This is infuriating.
“Of all the things that could possibly interfere, this! I... I should terminate the idiot who brought this distraction into things. Yes. Yes... this is good, this is even amusing. What an inspiration for my next attack, something that will clarify for them, beyond all doubt, that some random window-smasher is far beneath Triple-A!"
Anhukarr strode over to his work board and activated it again. The first order of business was to learn more about the incident in question and the fool now in custody, including details that would not be told to the public via the official government newscast. He swiftly breached the laughably weak protections on the police network and started reviewing the recent incident reports.
The database was massive, just like the city and its ongoing level of mostly petty crimes. The indexes he had discovered so far were not particularly helpful. Anhukarr could feel his impatience skyrocketing, but he did not let it affect his actions as he sifted through the data looking for the correct report.
"Ah, this looks right," he finally said softly. His anxiety promptly dropped several notches.
Anhukarr opened a new document window on his work board and began building a mind map that combined his own thoughts as well as notes taken from the police database. He didn't expect to come up with a specific plan right away. It would be good enough to gather as much data as possible, and do as much brainstorming as he could. Then he would get the most value from his subconscious thought processes while he meditated or slept later.
When he felt that he had extracted the most useful elements of the incident report, Anhukarr terminated his access to the database after erasing a few clues that an adept system administrator might notice. He then began exploring the data he could find on the person who had been arrested and added pertinent information to his mind map. Eventually he decided that he had enough to go on, so he closed everything but the mind map and then stood for several moments reviewing it.
"Very well, Zyrlan Kottes," he said softly as he closed the mind map and deactivated the work board, "you're about to learn that anarchy and misbehavior are not the same thing."
Anhukarr settled himself into his chair to observe the wavecast display, but this time he ordered a recorded flight over rugged, snowy mountains instead of a waterfall. He did not want to be reminded of the unpleasant surprise of the news of the arrest. As he watched the imagery without focusing on the details, he idly wondered if the mountains he was seeing actually existed, now or ever. This display was more likely to be rendered by computers than those that were ostensibly live feeds, although he had his doubts about some of those.
The entire planet had been fully developed long ago, although some of the development was to eject all people from massive wildlife preserves that served as an ecological balance against the impacts of dense civilization. Anhukarr knew that there were ancient photo references of mountain ranges like the one on the display, but he didn't know if any still existed.
Anhukarr cleared his mind of stray thoughts and focused on his breathing. It only took him a few minutes to sink into a deep meditative state. He lost track of time, but eventually soft music began to play. This was how he had programmed his home system to react when it recognized that he had been meditating for a sufficiently long time. Anhukarr's eyes opened, and he glanced habitually at his notice board. Nothing demanded his attention, so he prepared for bed despite the early hour. The next day might be a busy one.
Chapter Three
"What do you think?" Sertea asked as she moved her game piece.
Corlane glanced about casually to ensure that there wasn't anybody in the break room who seemed close enough and interested enough to catch his reply. "I think," he said, shifting his gaze back to the game board, "that it's nonsense. I don't think this guy has any connection at all to Triple-A. What I want to know is, who put him up to it? I suppose Triple-A himself could have, but I don't see the point of that."
Sertea nodded. "That's what I was thinking too. You were pretty outspoken in that meeting with Commissioner Wurly, and this arrest came while you were out with one of your episodes. Do you think someone might be giving you a nudge?"
"Nudge?" Corlane moved one of his pieces and grinned. "Block three. Anyway, you mean like trying to get me to be quiet by showing the police are active after all?"
"Well, that," Sertea said, making her next move. "Block seven. But not just that they're supposedly on top of the case, but that this was done while you were... well, you know, not doing anything, because you were home sick."
Corlane glanced at her briefly. "Well, I will admit I didn't think of that. But it seems like an elaborate plan just to, I don't know... discredit me, I guess? Seems a little... block seven block... seems a little too farfetched. I mean, I won't dismiss conspiracy theories just because they're conspiracy theories, but I can't imagine that someone would go to that much trouble, especially since it would have to be done at the last minute. It's not like I announce my absences in advance. I'd love to have that kind of awareness myself! But as it is... I guess it's possible, but I'm not too worried about it. This guy can't be Triple-A, so the fact that they captured the wrong guy, or at least a meaningless guy, shouldn't have too much negative political fallout for me. If any."
"I suppose," Sertea answered. "All blocked. You're too distracted," she said with a grin. "You usually play better than this."
"I won't argue that," Corlane said sourly. "And yeah, I am distracted, but you played a good game too, so let's not assume too much. Another round?"
Sertea shook her head. "I can't, I have a meeting that I need to prep for."
"With?"
"Rann Ulixar," Sertea said, grimacing. "I think he makes up meeting ideas just to have time to leer at me."
Corlane rolled his eyes. "He's sleazy, I grant you that. No way to put him off? I hope it's not just you and him in the meeting?"
"No, there Rann Polimm is supposed to be there too," Sertea said. "I could put off his meetings if he didn’t have so much seniority over me."
"Old bastard," Corlane said as he started collecting the game pieces. "Well, good luck."
"Thanks," she answered as she stood up and stretched. "I'm just going to work on keeping it as short as I can. I'll see you later."
Corlane merely nodded as he finished putting the game pieces back in their container. Sertea was gone by the time he put the game back in the entertainment cupboard. He gathered the rest of his things and returned to his cubicle. He knew he had some communications from constituents that he needed to either answer or re-delegate, but his friend's words were starting to nag at him. Would anyone really have been motivated enough to throw together some weak arrest story while he was out sick, just to make a point?
"Rann Deryala," the first recorded message began, the male voice immediately sounding angry, "when you were running for office I pushed my friends and family to support you in the belief that you would support those who put you there. It seems I was wrong! Where are the infrastr
ucture upgrades you promised? Why do I hear from my coworkers who live in other districts how they're not dealing with the things that have plagued our district for so long, which you claimed to be ready to tackle? Your constituents are getting impatient! Get to work!"
Corlane scowled. This was not the kind of message that his screeners were supposed to pass along to him. They could and should have sent a canned response that would mollify the person while hopefully also educating them on some of the many obstacles that stood in the way of granting every item on their wish lists. He shifted the message into his pending-response queue with the vague motivation to respond personally later that day. He then moved on to the next message.
"Deryala," a different male voice said, not even bothering to include his proper title, "I can see it was a mistake to elect you. Maybe if you weren't literally sleeping on the job we could see some progress on some of the basic things you said you would have fixed by now. Wake up, Deryala!"
Corlane drummed his fingers on his desk. Once again the people who were supposed to screen his messages had not done their job correctly. Even as a junior Rann, he knew he should be able to expect better treatment than this. After a moment, he pushed that message into the same queue. This time he put more thought into setting aside time to answer these constituents, and also to address the core problems. He needed to push his staff to correctly filter his messages just as he needed to push other Ranns toward agreements that would make progress on his campaign promises. He had not meant them as empty promises when he was campaigning, but until he was elected he had no idea just how strong the resistance would be.
Despite not wanting to, Corlane continued through the remainder of the recorded messages. A few were routine business, but he was sure, without bothering to count, that at least two-thirds were of the same type as the first two. Message after message, angry constituents took him to task for not getting things done and insinuated that his time out of the office when his sleeping disorder flared up was the main cause.
"This isn't a coincidence," he said softly to himself. "This is a coordinated campaign, and either someone on my staff is participating in it or Triple-A has decided I'm worth his time and attention. The problem is, no matter how I try to get to the bottom of this, somebody will know they managed to get to me."
Corlane stood and began pacing, although his cubicle did not allow much range for movement. He knew there were not many people he could trust, and the few he could trust, like Sertea, would not be able to tell him much. Although he originally considered delegating the messages back to his staff, he now realized that answering each message on his own was probably the best way to handle it.
Answering them all himself would definitely take a significant amount of time, as well as a solid dose of diplomacy to not respond in the same tone that his constituents had taken with him, but personal responses could go a long way toward smoothing over problems. Not involving his staff, all of whom he had to consider suspect until he had more information, would also conceal the impact the messages had on him. To maintain that shield, he would also have to stay quiet about the sudden influx of angry messages.
"Rann Deryala?" a gruff male voice said from the entry to his cubicle. Corlane looked over to see Rann Trissan, a senior Rann not far below ol-Rann Keanet. "Is there something wrong?"
Corlane pasted on a smile. "No, nothing wrong, Rann Trissan. Restless, though, and putting some thought into changing my medocs to try to get a fresh look at my condition."
Rann Trissan looked at him blankly for a moment. "Your condition? Oh, yes, the problem that has been interfering with your attendance."
"Yes," Corlane answered, hoping to achieve a good balance between sounding positive yet taking the matter seriously. He was much more wary than he wanted to show, wariness arising as a result of the other man’s powerful position and Corlane’s own past experiences with him. "I am very motivated to resolve it so that I may be more effective in completing my duties, as others have every right to expect."
"Yes," Rann Trissan said dourly. "Well, I wanted to know if you have examined my trade bill, CT-R-83905. It needs two more sponsors before it can move forward, and it is important to me and my constituents. You have, as yet, not indicated whether you support or oppose it. Have you even read it?"
"Yes," Corlane lied. "There were a couple aspects I wanted to evaluate more closely, but I expect I will be able to support it."
"Really?" Rann Trissan sounded genuinely surprised. "Well. May I expect an answer today? There might be time to bring it forth for its initial vote before the Alrahan Recess."
Corlane cringed as he realized the corner he had backed himself into. "I can reprioritize my work to finish my review of it today," he agreed, "if you think it is likely that you will get the other sponsor you need."
Rann Trissan's face twisted in an unpleasant smile. "Since you have given your tentative support, I am confident I can get one other."
"Very well," Corlane said, doing his best to hide the sinking sensation he felt, "I will give you my final answer today."
Rann Trissan nodded and turned away abruptly. Corlane resisted the urge to gesture rudely after the other man was gone. He knew that the extensive surveillance in the building would record it and he could not trust those who monitored it to not spread the image illicitly.
"Well," Corlane said, forcing a chuckle, "I'd better finish my evaluation of CT-R-83905."
He wasn't going to voice his thoughts, but he was pretty sure he was in a bad situation. Not only was his workload for the day already too large to fit into a regular workday, now that he had a whole bill to read and analyze, but that bill itself was a problem. The reaction Rann Trissan gave him left little doubt in his mind that the bill was something he or his constituents would oppose.
Corlane was confident that he could find some way to weasel out of his tentative agreement to it, but doing so would have a much higher political cost now than if he had never suggested he might agree to it. This was especially true since it was apparent that another Rann, whose identity Corlane could only speculate, might change positions on the bill after seeing "Rann Deryala" as a potential sponsor. If he withdrew his support, he could be sure that he would anger Rann Trissan. Yet he might also anger or alienate the other Rann if his or her sponsorship became known and it was politically problematic for them.
"This was the perfect day to get some honest feedback from constituents," he mused aloud, suppressing from his voice the sarcasm behind his words.
Corlane left his office briefly to fill his puraflask with water and to get a disposable cup to mix the water with his Nu-tasty. Once back in his office, he prepared his beverage, made himself comfortable, and began reading Rann Trissan's bill. He wished he could skim it, as he expected most Ranns did with most bills, but he knew that his full comprehension of this one in particular would give him the best odds of finding a way out of the bind he had created for himself.
It was no surprise, but it was disappointing to Corlane, that the bill was long, complex, and filled with tangents and add-ons that slowed the process of getting a good mental picture of it. Rann Trissan seemed to be on a fishing expedition, asking for things that would clearly be overruled before the bill made it very far. The hours slipped by and the day turned to night as Corlane pored over the bill, only stopping briefly when his body demanded a break.
There was very little time left in the day, and little time for Corlane to make good on his promise to give an answer that day, when he finally felt that he understood the main parts and most of the minor nuances. He could see how certain parts would be opposed by his constituents, but he could not see any major issue. This worried Corlane, because Rann Trissan clearly expected him to have rejected the bill outright, which hinted at a bigger problem.
"I can't put off an answer any longer," Corlane muttered as he glanced again at the clock. He yawned. "I need more time, and..." He yawned again. "And this stupid condition is stealing my time away. I..."
/> Corlane's voice trailed off. With one more glance at the clock, he composed a quick message to Rann Trissan, agreeing to sponsor the bill. He was sure he would regret it even though he didn't understand how, and his tired brain was not highlighting any way to back out of what he had said earlier.
When the message was sent, Corlane leaned back and yawned again. This was the latest he had stayed in his office. Now that he was more aware of his surroundings, he was surprised at how quiet the building was now that almost everyone had gone home. He needed to get home himself, but the idea of a brief rest appealed to him. He yawned again and closed his eyes.
Chapter Four
Anhukarr awoke and immediately sensed that something was wrong. It was a familiar feeling, and the first thing he did was check the date and time.
"Not again," he groaned, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed platform. "This can't keep happening to me. I..." His voice trailed away as the flood of thoughts overwhelmed him. He did not want to take the risk of seeing a medoc, but he couldn't see how he could learn what was going on with him without doing so. Of the countless technological feats he had managed, the one thing that was consistently defeating him was setting up monitors on himself to find out what was going on. Something, or someone, was effectively disabling those monitors without leaving the slightest trace.
"I need to find someone who can help me discover the truth behind this," he commented aloud as he got dressed.
He knew it was an idle and almost irrelevant thought. Anhukarr kept to himself to an extreme degree, as much as anyone in the densely populated city could. Automated delivery bots brought him whatever he wanted to purchase. When he went out, he used a combination of simple timing and technology-enhanced awareness to minimize contact with others in general. He also made a point to specifically avoid repeated contacts with the same people, in order to limit others' awareness of, and potential interest in, him and his doings. He took additional measures if he left his home for purposes that would conflict with the city’s sense of law and order.
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