Heirs of the New Earth

by David Lee Summers

  Bodies were stacked up like cordwood, in the middle of a dirty street. A group of police officers were gathered around with flame-throwers, igniting the pyre. The image was slightly blurred from movement, but he thought he could make out his former boss, Sheriff Wilmot, in charge of the gathered group. Swan closed his eyes, trying to shut out the image. Finally, he remembered the command to wipe the image from his eye.

  The hover cab settled to the ground in front of Timothy Gibbs’ apartment building. Swan entered a credit code and stepped out. He noticed that the cleanup of the apartment complex had begun, though it wasn't complete. Several sections of wall had been scrubbed clean, but others still showed graffiti and gang tags that Swan recognized. Once cleaned up, the apartment complex would be a wonderful place to live, but it was apparent that it had been a haven of gang activity. That made very little sense to Edmund Swan, who remembered Timothy Gibbs as having the makings of a brilliant computer tech—someone who should be able to afford a higher-class apartment. However, Swan knew all too well that on a crowded Earth, competition for even the best jobs was extraordinarily fierce and even the best and the brightest were lucky to be employed at all.

  Swan found Gibbs’ apartment and rang the buzzer. He was surprised when Gibbs simply opened the door without checking his identity on the video interface.

  "Come in,” said Gibbs.

  Swan stepped into the apartment. Like much of the city, it looked as though the apartment was going through something of a renovation. Clean dishes sat stacked on a chipped but scrubbed linoleum counter. The couch that Gibbs led Swan to was torn and tattered but the air smelled of disinfectant.

  "Can I get you some coffee?” asked Gibbs.

  Swan nodded. “I was worried after our teleholo call was cut off the other day."

  Gibbs poured the coffee and nodded. “I know. That was a rough day and the next day was even worse.” He stepped back toward the couch and handed Swan the cup. “Things have been moving so fast since then, though."

  "Things?” Swan's brow furrowed.

  "It's hard to explain.” Timothy Gibbs dropped into a chair opposite his friend. “After college I couldn't find a single job in computers. I'm sure it never helped that I wasn't ever very good with people. Still, I was good with computers. I finally found a job maintaining the computer interfaces in starliners. Unfortunately, that company folded, as did about three others I worked for. Most recently I was working for a little teleholo store."

  Swan shook his head. “That's a waste of resources, my friend. You should have been working on the most cutting-edge technology.” He pointed to his computer eye.

  Gibbs nodded slowly. “That's what's strange. I am now. I finally found someone that appreciates my talent and it's paradise."

  "Who?” asked Swan, leaning forward, placing his coffee cup on the table in front of him.

  "The Cluster. They want me to build a legacy.” Gibbs sat back in the chair, heaved a deep sigh and closed his eyes. “Sorry to leave you, my friend, but it's time to get back to work. Make yourself at home. I'll be back before long.” With that Gibbs’ features went slack.

  Swan jumped off the couch and checked his friend's pulse. Relieved that it was still there, he examined his friend with his computer eye. He was alive and healthy. Everything seemed to indicate that he was simply asleep—everything except his brainwave patterns. Swan was used to looking at brainwave patterns during interrogations. However, he had never seen any so active as those in this apparently sleeping man.

  * * * *

  The Nicholas Sanson jumped into Earth's solar system near Mars. Laura Peters eased the ship around the red planet and took it on a leisurely arc toward the Earth itself. Now that they were in the solar system, Natalie Papadraxis was able to pick up transmissions from Earth.

  "Any indication that the Cluster has seen us enter the solar system?” asked Ellis, sitting on the edge of his chair.

  "If they've noticed us, they're not saying or doing anything about it,” said Natalie.

  "Do you want me to perform a pre-orbital scan?” Laura Peters looked over her shoulder at Ellis. “It could alert the Clusters to our presence."

  Ellis nodded. “I suspect they know we're here already.” His words were measured. “Most likely, they either want us to come to Earth or they don't care."

  Laura nodded and began the scan. Natalie chewed on her nails as she monitored news reports on her brain implant. Simon Yermakov wiped more sweat from his brow then stood and walked over to Natalie's station. “How does it sound?” he asked.

  Natalie turned and seemed to look through Simon. “It sounds normal ... and frightening."

  "Sir,” said Laura, breaking in. “I'm detecting three of the Clusters in orbit around the Earth."

  "There're at least four of them.” Simon looked at Ellis. “We don't know how many in all. But at least one of them isn't here."

  Ellis nodded slowly, digesting the information. Kirsten Smart stepped from her office, looking a little pale—suffering the after effects of the jump to Earth orbit. The captain stood and smiled bravely at her, then turned his attention back to Natalie. “Can you show us a couple of the news broadcasts?"

  Natalie nodded and the holographic view changed to a newscaster sitting behind a desk somewhere on Earth. The newscaster reported that the number of “Doomsday Dead” was leveling off. A set of graphs popped onto the display, as though they were orbiting the newscaster's head.

  "Natalie, please pause those statistics,” said Kirsten. The newscaster continued to speak, while the graphs remained still. Without Natalie's action, the graphs would have vanished after a brief appearance on the screen. Kirsten walked up and examined the information. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Over 60 percent of the Earth's population is dead,” she gasped.

  "But the Cluster doesn't want humans dead,” said Ellis after a moment, breaking the nearly palpable silence that filled the command deck. He stepped forward and examined the statistical charts himself.

  The newscaster went on to talk about the President's recent successes. Jenna Walker had found housing for all the people of the Earth. New approaches to medical care, education and farming were announced along with new sources of fuel. The President, along with a surprisingly supportive Senate anticipated a nearly instant reduction in taxes.

  Fire and Manuel stepped onto the command deck as Smart and Ellis walked around the oblivious image of the newscaster who was reading a report about the improvement of air quality in Southern California and Arizona. “This is bizarre,” said Kirsten, her eyebrows knitted. “It's like the Earth has been hit with an epidemic of depression."

  Fire walked up and stood next to Laura Peters’ console. “This report sounds like Earth is becoming a nice place to live, though,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

  Kirsten motioned for Fire to look at the same set of statistics she was examining. Fire whistled as she looked at the astonishing death rate.

  "We already know that the Cluster can tap into emotions,” said Ellis, grimly. “It sounds like they're tapping some pretty dark ones."

  Manuel shrugged. “But that would be more trouble than the Cluster needs to go to. Why make people kill themselves when it has so much firepower at its disposal? It could just decimate the surface of the planet if it wanted to."

  "That's very true.” Ellis felt around his shirt until he found a cigar. With it, he pointed to the newscaster. “But then, listen to the newscast. Not everyone has been hit with depression. It sounds like the politicians have broken through layers of dogma.” He shook his head. “Taxes haven't been reduced in nearly five centuries—not meaningfully at any rate."

  The newscaster reported that gang violence had virtually ceased in metropolitan areas around the globe. If it weren't for the death statistics sitting in front of his nose, Ellis would be tempted to believe that the Cluster's appearance was beneficial for humanity. He placed the cigar in his mouth, but did not light it.

  "Entering orbit in ten mi
nutes,” reported Laura Peters. “The Clusters still haven't responded to our presence."

  "Proceed with orbital entry,” ordered Ellis, removing the cigar. “It's pretty clear that the Cluster isn't shooting at anyone. I don't think we have anything to fear at the moment."

  Manuel licked his lips. “Okay, we're at Earth. Now what do we do?"

  "Our mission is reconnaissance,” said Simon. “We have these newscasts recorded. Can't we just take this information back to Alpha Coma?"

  Mark shook his head. “I'm afraid not. All we have is circumstantial evidence that the Cluster is behind the deaths."

  "Pretty good circumstantial evidence, if you ask me,” said Simon sharply.

  Fire shook her head at the first mate. “We know that the Cluster can manipulate emotions and it's here. That's opportunity. However, we don't have a motive. As far as we know, the Cluster wants to form a symbiosis with humanity."

  "We need to go to the planet,” said Mark stepping back toward the command chair. “We need to find out what's happening, first hand."

  "Where do we go?” asked Manuel.

  Kirsten inclined her head. “We don't want to attract attention. We're a mapping ship home from a voyage. The first thing I'd do is check in."

  The captain nodded. “Mr. Yermakov, would you please prepare the launch for a flight to TransGalactic Headquarters in Japan.” He placed the unlit cigar back in his shirt pocket.

  "Aye, sir,” said Yermakov, looking glum.

  * * * *

  Surgeon General Eva Cooper strolled around the lawn of the White House in the Columbia District. She needed some fresh air after reading reports of people being found around the world in almost a comatose state. The people were among the best and brightest minds. They weren't dead like the Doomsday Dead, just absent from their bodies, somehow. Looking up through the force field that surrounded the compound, she saw that the sky was bluer than she'd noticed before. The President was taking credit for the improvement in air quality. The Surgeon General snorted. While she knew that the President's initiatives were going to improve air pollution, she also realized that the nearly instant improvements were simply due to less people on the planet.

  Eva Cooper gasped when she saw Jenna Walker stepping lightly across the grass. The President smiled and waved. Seeing the President in a light, summer dress that revealed tantalizing hints of skin around the upper breasts and thighs caused an embarrassing heat to rise in the doctor. Blushing, Cooper waved back.

  The President came alongside Cooper and linked arms with her. “I love walking out here,” said the President. “Planetary Security doesn't feel that they have to watch me like a hawk when I'm under the force field.” The two strolled over the grass, arm-in-arm in ardent silence.

  Eva Cooper felt a surprising desire to lean her head against Jenna's shoulder and allow herself to be carried away in the moment. Fear kept her looking straight ahead. Partially, the fear was of the President herself and the power she represented and the fact that somehow Jenna had been in communication with the Cluster. However, there was a deeper layer to the fear. She was simply afraid that she might actually love Jenna Walker.

  Jenna stopped in front of a flowerbed, knelt down and smelled a red rose. “I've missed you, Eva,” said Jenna in hushed tones.

  "I've missed you, too.” Eva heard herself saying the words, but doubted her feelings. “I've been worried about you.” The second sentence held more certainty and conviction.

  "Why?” asked Jenna—a smile like sunshine lit up her face. “I have never felt better in my life.” Jenna's smile faded as she looked into Eva's downcast features. “I'm sorry I haven't been around more. After our morning together—after Arlington—I've wanted to get back together, to talk more, maybe to explore our feelings more."

  "Jenna,"—the President's smile brightened again when Eva used her first name—"my feelings are confused; but more about you and the Cluster than you and me."

  "I see,” said Jenna, looking from Eva to the rose. “Dick tells me that the Cluster hasn't spoken to you."

  Eva nodded, not certain whether Jenna saw or not. “What does it mean? What is the Cluster?"

  Jenna walked along the path a little further, then paused, but did not turn to face Eva. “The Cluster is, maybe, the most ancient form of life there is. She's older than the Titans and she is beautiful. From her perspective, all of the problems of Earth look like child's play to solve."

  "How does she talk to you, Jenna?” asked Eva, taking a few cautious steps toward the President.

  "I'm not exactly sure. It's like she talks to the very essence of my being; my emotional core, as it were.” Jenna's voice held a dream-like quality. She knelt by another rose bush. “I remember words, but I don't know if they were words."

  "The dead, Jenna,” said Eva softly. “What of the Doomsday Dead? You said in your speech the other day that the Cluster was responsible, but you absolved it.” Eva's voice remained soft, but developed a razor edge. “How do you absolve something for killing over half the people of the planet?"

  Jenna stood, her back tense. “To grow the most beautiful garden, you have to cull the weeds. The Earth became overridden with weeds."

  "If I can't speak to the Cluster, does that make me one of the weeds?” asked Eva, horrified.

  Jenna turned slowly, her head inclined. She reached out and wiped a tear from Eva's cheek. “No, you're a beautiful flower."

  Eva looked into Jenna's eyes and wanted to fall into them. She wanted to be held by Jenna and ... the thought hung for several moments, pregnant and unspoken. “I'm the beautiful flower and you're the gardener,” she burst out at last, then spun on her heel and ran as fast as she could back to the White House. She could hear Jenna Walker calling her name behind her.

  Eva didn't stop running until she came to her office. She threw open the door, slammed it behind her and locked it. Throwing herself into her chair she put her face in her hands and cried for several minutes—irrational, blind fear and a sense of betrayal overrode every other emotion. She wanted to believe Jenna—wanted to believe the Cluster had come to Earth for good. But, human lives compared to weeds? She could never believe that in this circumstance, the President would view herself as some kind of master gardener over all of the lives of the planet.

  A series of beeps sounded, bringing Eva to the reality of her surroundings. She wiped her eyes and reached for a tissue and blew her nose. Activating her teleholo, Eva realized that the beeps were a notice. The TransGalactic Mapping Vessel Nicholas Sanson had just entered orbit around the Earth. Her computer had been scanning for it. The ship that had first encountered the Cluster had come home.

  Eva looked up the location of TransGalactic's home office. She nodded approvingly and chartered a transport for Japan. Arrangements made, the Surgeon General, stood, straightened her coat, and left the White House Complex, determined to get some answers.

  * * * *

  The launch from the Nicholas Sanson made its way toward the islands of Japan. Aboard were John Mark Ellis, Kirsten Smart, Suki Ellis and Manuel Raton. Ellis called for permission to land at Tokyo Spaceport—mentioning the fact that they had business with TransGalactic Corporation. “You're cleared for Shikoku if you'd like,” came the voice from city control.

  "No way!” exclaimed Kirsten. “I've never been cleared directly for Shikoku. It's always too crowded."

  "If we're cleared, let's go for it. I don't wanna walk too far,” grumbled Raton.

  Ellis nodded and acknowledged city control saying they were rerouting to the Shikoku landing strip. As they came down, automated controls directed the launch, keeping it clear of traffic. However, Ellis felt there was too little movement. The launch wasn't dodging or swerving as it normally would when coming down into a congested part of a city.

  "What's happened to all the traffic?” asked Kirsten, sensing Mark's concern.

  Fire and Manuel looked at each other, then looked out the windows. “Looks like a lot of hover cars to me,” sa
id Manuel, seeing more hovers than he was used to seeing.

  "You're from a rural planet,” said Ellis. “This might be a lot of traffic for a place like Tejo City back on Sufiro—but it's nothing for Japan."

  The launch settled itself smoothly on the landing platform. Mark, Kirsten, Fire, and Manuel stepped out and were surprised to find a cab waiting at the landing port that could take them directly to TransGalactic. As they flew over the city, they were struck by how few pedestrians made their way along the streets.

  "It's a great day, isn't it?” asked the cab driver, trying to make conversation.

  "It is a nice day,” said Fire. “But, we've been off planet and just heard about all the people committing suicide."

  "Yeah,” said the Cabbie. “They're just a bunch of losers. I think the planet's better off without ‘em."

  Mark, Fire, Manuel and Kirsten looked from one to the other, not believing the cab driver's response. They were grateful when he set the cab down in front of the TransGalactic building.

  There was no receptionist on duty in the lobby of the TransGalactic building. “This place gives me the creeps,” said Fire. “Too quiet."

  "It shouldn't be this quiet,” affirmed Kirsten, leading the way back to an elevator tube. They rode in silence to a floor near the top of the building. Mark remembered his last visit to the building with Clyde McClintlock and G'Liat. This was where they'd come to meet the company's Senior Mathematician—a formidable woman named Kumiko Meiji.

  Kirsten led the party into Meiji's cavernous office. The room was littered with waist-high pedestals. Over each pedestal floated stars and grid lines. The holographic projections were the aids used by every human-built star vessel in the galaxy to navigate. Near the center of the room, a well-dressed woman sat in a lotus position on the floor. Her eyes stared out in wonder. “Ms. Meiji,” exclaimed Mark.

  "Kumiko,” called Kirsten. She knelt down on the floor and checked her friend's pulse.

  "What's going on?” asked Manuel. “Is she in some kind of trance?"