The Methuselan Circuit

by Anderson, Christopher L.

  The Holo-V image disappeared, but there was a sharp sound within the Tube followed by a loud hum that came from above their heads. Alexander looked up to see a series of conduits glowing blue. They ran along the interior of the Tube, glowing softly, running a course from the aft end all the way to the bow five hundred meters away. A ring of pure blue light formed at the bow. It pulsed briefly and then reached out for the blue and white world below. The blue beam enveloped the planet, but all they heard from their vantage was an innocent hum.

  CHAPTER 22: Clamping Down

  Life got back to normal at the Academy, except that all communications with Terra were cut off. The President stayed on Luna for the time being, making weekly announcements to the Empire. At first, it didn’t seem like their scheme of using the Methuselan Circuit would work. Katrina reported that the riots got even worse and that everyone that she’d talked to outside her home was irritable and cranky. She was spared the effects, at least initially, but then she reported something terrible.

  Katrina called him in the middle of the night. She was scared. “Alexander, the legionaries outside are setting up what my father called a psi-amplifier. It’s supposed to amplify the signal of the Methuselan Circuit so that it will penetrate the shields around our house.” There were tears in her eyes. “My dad’s going to turn the shields off. He says there’s no way to control the psi-amplifiers precisely; they’re Scythian, and extremely dangerous. Alexander, I don’t know what’s going to happen to me when the shield goes down; I don’t know what’s going to happen to me!”

  “Don’t worry Katrina; we’ll do something—we have to!” He gathered their little group together and passed on Katrina’s communication. “It’s getting serious. All of our families are at risk. We have to do something to disrupt or destroy the Methuselan Circuit!”

  “How do we do it? Only Khandar knows how to destroy it,” Lisa said.

  “Then I’ve got to talk to him,” Alexander replied urgently.

  “We have some time,” Treya told them. “My parents are in contact with me through the embassy, but I don’t know how long that will last. Apparently, the Methuselan beam is supposed to make the population acquiescent, but every sentient species is different and the Methuselans must have needed a certain period of time to adjust the psionic affects of the beam. So far it’s having the opposite affect the President wants, that’s why Professor Strauss has been absent from class these last two weeks. Until they get the beam to do what they want they’re at a standstill.”

  “What is it they’re trying to do anyway?” James said. “Can they keep everyone under this beam all their lives; I mean, what good is it to take this chance if they have to turn it off someday?”

  No one had the answer, but to their surprise, Professor Nussbaum told them the very next day. He was none too happy about it, or so he made it sound. “It’s absolutely ludicrous to talk about pending legislation to a military audience,” he grumbled, but he shrugged. “I don’t have a choice. You’re going to have to bear with me, but Commandant Augesburcke has ordered me to instruct you all on the monumental legislation now being introduced in the Houses of Congress and in the Parliaments. Again, I apologize, but for some reason the Commandant wants the Bill itself read and not paraphrased. Now, be advised this is a bill; it’s very dry and dusty reading and not always easily understood. I will try to clarify where I can.”

  He was right, but despite the reading being arduous, so arduous in fact that he allowed the computer to do it. Alexander listened closely, and several things jumped out at him. The most sweeping provision was that no one, not even Citizens, would be able to own land. Everyone would be provided with government furnished housing—housing was a right. That meant his family would have to give up the home they worked so hard for! There was more. His father and mother would lose their farm and business. As working age adults they would be assigned jobs, because everyone would have a job. It didn’t matter what the job was either, everyone’s pay was equal. Despite his father’s skill and training as a space ship captain he would earn as much as the basic unioneer who parked the aerocars on the trans-ocean ferry. Alexander could expect the same when he graduated and finally left the Service. His position would be decided by a government board and his pay, housing and lifestyle would have nothing to do with his talents, training or how hard he worked.

  There was more, much more. As young and inexperienced as Alexander was, even he was amazed at the minutiae in the proposed legislation. There were codes for what every unit of community housing would be like, what subjects would be taught in school and what foods would be produced. On and on the rules went, invading every aspect of their lives; it was supposed to be for everyone to be in an equal, classless society, but to Alexander it simply felt like tyranny. Professor Nussbaum perked up during these parts, stopping the computer and explaining, “A happy society, a socially just society does not put the individual over the collective, but rather sees to the needs of the collective first. As it is, people in the unions are virtual slaves for the Citizen-class. There can be no justice and certainly no equality in that.”

  “Professor, isn’t that their choice,” Alexander interrupted—he simply couldn’t take it anymore and his young man’s anger showed in his voice. “After all, all they need to do to become Citizens is to enter the Service. Citizens have the responsibility of making a living, paying taxes and Serving Terra. Unioneers have no responsibility other than showing up for work. Their food, housing and trade training are all taken care of. Why should they get the right to vote if they’re too lazy to take the responsibility?”

  “That’s the philosophy of someone who wants to be better than others; someone who believes he is superior than others,” the Professor responded testily.

  “Don’t I have the right to make more of myself if I work harder or do better? Why should James work extra hard for an A in your class and get the same reward as I do if I just sluff off and get a C? Who is going to pay for the food, housing and training if we’re all part of the collective?”

  Professor Nussbaum shook his head, saying, “The collective supports itself.”

  James chimed in, and said, “It sounds like you’re not bringing the unioneers up to the level of the Citizens but instead you’re bringing the Citizens down to the level of unioneers. It won’t work Professor.”

  “So says a thirteen year old cadet,” the professor sneered.

  “So says history,” Lisa told him emphatically. “There is not a single example of a collective society ever working on Terra. In fact, all those societies were brutal. Millions of people were killed to maintain the oppressive governments and even then there were cases of mass starvation. Every one of those societies failed—every one!”

  “The unioneer caste doesn’t have those problems,” the professor replied testily. “The problem is that the Citizens have hoarded all the rights and benefits of society’s advances. Using the unioneer model we can allow everyone the same life—there will be no one who can take advantage of the loopholes of the system and benefit from other people’s labor.”

  “I grew up in a unioneer family,” James shrugged. “They do what they have to, not what they want to. There’s no motivation to do more than you absolutely have to; in reality, the motivation and energy of a unioneer is spent in trying to do as little work as possible. Who can blame them? You don’t earn more money for exceeding your quota. You don’t get better housing. If there’s no motivation for improving your life why go to all the trouble?”

  “Why go to all the trouble, why for equality, that’s why. In the great Soviet and Maoist empires there was equality, true equality.” The professor got up and paced the classroom, waving his arms in agitation. “What is it about this that you don’t see? The populations of the Soviet Union and China gave up luxury for equality. People addressed each other as ‘comrade’ whether one was a laborer, officer or a member of the Peoples Assembly. Isn’t that kind of utopia worth the false pride that your job is more
important than the next man’s job or that you went to college and he did not?”

  “It’s not that we’re any better as people professor; it’s that each of us as individuals has the opportunity to lead a better life,” Alexander said firmly. “The government has the responsibility for enforcing the rules we set for living together, but they don’t have the right to tell me how to live my life—that’s slavery not freedom.”

  “The utopia you talk about didn’t work very well in Communist Russia or China—a lot of people starved.”

  “Those that complained about it were often killed by the Secret Police or sent to work camps where even more died,” Lisa added. Then she asked, “Aren’t we, as a modern society, supposed to learn from our mistakes and not repeat them?”

  To which Treya couldn’t help but add, “I can’t help but think this is very anti-Terran, this stifling of individuality. I can’t imagine that Alexander of Terra would approve!”

  Nussbaum emphatically ended the discussion, storming out of the room, saying, “I knew none of you could grasp this; I tried to tell the Commandant this was all a waste of time! This is exactly why we need to force this upon the population; because of the illogical voices of the bourgeoisie!”

  That was the last day Professor Nussbaum allowed any discussion in his class. His hour became pure lecture followed by a quiz. There were no questions, only a regurgitation of the material he taught. Even the quizzes lacked the usual essay questions, stressing instead definitions and protocols. To say it was tedious would be like saying space was a rather large place indeed.

  To Alexander’s surprise, Lt. Mortimer seemed to be unphased by it all. She noted that he was back on track, and took him aside to tell him how pleased she was to have her old student back. When he asked her what she thought about all this, she smiled and said, “We go through these cycles, Cadet Wolfe. Don’t worry, in the new world order I think you’ll probably be exactly what you want. Your profession will be chosen with mathematical precision to coincide with your tastes and talents. If manipulated correctly, the efficiency and happiness of a society might actually improve.” She laughed at his expression. “That’s called sarcasm Cadet Wolfe, I’m just trying to lift your spirits; you look awfully concerned over this—don’t be. There’s nothing a cadet can do about it anyway.”

  Apparently, his short discussion had some affect on Lt. Mortimer, much to the chagrin of her students. She introduced a new subject, socio-calculus. It was above their heads, way above their heads, and initially it was all just a bunch of equations to Alexander and his friends. That only spurred Lt. Mortimer on to show them how she could relate mind boggling mathematics to human behavior.

  James expression provoked a smirk from Lt. Mortimer, and she asked, “Cadet James Jameson,” she somehow knew how much he hated anyone putting his first and last name together, “Can you tell me what you find so amusing about this exercise in mathematics?”

  He gulped, not being used to attention from his professors, in fact he steadfastly avoided it. Of course, the attention was coming from Lt. Mortimer and that only added to James extended silence.

  “Well Cadet Jameson?”

  “Well, Lieutenant,” he stammered, and he shrugged, apparently thinking he might as well be honest about it. “How am I supposed to understand any of this if I’m having trouble with the basic orbital geometry you’re teaching? You might as well be speaking a different language.” Her finely plucked brows rose in surprise. “Is any of this going to be on the next test?”

  Lt. Mortimer did the last thing anyone expected—she laughed. “A very good point, Cadet Jameson, and no this won’t be on a test. Still,” she turned and went to the blackboard, which at the Academy was an electronic version of the one they used on Terra. She continued writing her equations for about ten minutes. When she was finished, she took her compad and covered the end of her equation. With her pen out of sight from the students she wrote something behind the compad.

  “I’m curious as to how many of you really thought this was going to be on the test and were furiously taking notes while I was writing down my theorems on socio-mathematics—be honest now. Raise your hands if you thought it was going to be on the next test.”

  Alexander looked down at his compad. There was no denying it. He acted before he thought about it and was taking notes. It simply never occurred to him that Lt. Mortimer might have another point with her work. He raised his hand.

  She counted the hands, announcing, “Seventy-five percent, how interesting, that’s about what I came up with.” She removed her compad. On the board was the number, “73.7524%.”

  “You see, as I told you at the beginning of the semester there is a Frisbee in everything!”

  Lt. Mortimer’s skill at prediction didn’t do anything to allay Alexander’s fears. He couldn’t forget Katrina was down on Terra and she was scared, but that sparked a thought. “Lt. Mortimer, Professor Nussbaum has been briefing us about the civil unrest on Terra. Can your math actually show whether this unrest could be predicted and how long it may last?”

  She smiled, but in a feral way, showing Alexander that she was supremely confident that the mathematics could do exactly what he asked. “There would be some margin of error because we have to make assumptions, but I can give you a date within a few weeks time. Consider that, my homework for tomorrow. Now, as to your homework . . .” She rattled off the usual impossibly long assignment and dismissed them, but Alexander wasn’t thinking about the homework.

  “Lt. Mortimer’s calculations can tell us how much time we have! Meanwhile, I’ve got to get in contact with Khandar. I’ve got to convince him to help us.”

  That was to prove problematic. After working on the firing range the President came to the Academy the next day and they were restricted to quarters. This worked out surprisingly well as James was restricted to quarters anyway for taking a shot at Centurion Fjallheim on the firing range.

  “Blasted fool,” the centurion growled after backhanding the cadet across the floor. “I could take you out to the airlock and shoot you this minute, why on Terra did you do that?”

  “You know why,” James told him viciously. “You killed my mother. I know the investigation for the Luna murders points to Professor Strauss, but you can’t make me believe that fat, worthless autocrat could have taken out two government agents!”

  The centurion stood over the cadet and asked, “Agent Jameson was your mother?” When James nodded, Fjallheim accessed his uniform screen. After a momentary search he shook his head. “There’ve been no further announcements, so how do you know? I can’t even access that information?”

  James nodded to Alexander, and said with a hate filled voice, “Cadet Wolfe’s dad knew her; he told me.”

  Fjallheim reached down and hauled James up by the collar. “Cadet Jameson when you shoot to kill at least switch the combat safety off! For the love of God, have you learned nothing from me?” Fjallheim gave him an F for the day and restricted James to quarters “For not following combat protocol. Blast it all cadet, mistakes like that get men killed!” All he said concerning James attempt to kill him was, “Cadet Jameson if I believed what you believe I’d have done the same, but I’d have done it correctly—now to your quarters on the double!”

  If there was only one thing Alexander could learn from Centurion Fjallheim, coolness under fire was it.

  Classes were taken in the dorms on the Holo-V. The only place they were allowed to go was the mess hall, and legionaries stood guard at the Tube so that the cadets had no choice as to where to go. To further complicate things Lt. Mortimer told them via Holo-V that due to the accuracy of her calculations the violence on Terra was already reaching a point whereby the government would have no choice but to act. Alexander was running out of time. It had to be the mess hall and it had to be now.

  When Alexander got there he expected to be able to find and meet Khandar without being noted, but in this he was disappointed. Legionary guards watched the mess and Centurio
n Fjallheim made it quite plain that their assignment was to sit down, shut up, eat and get back to their dorms as quickly as possible. There was no conversation. The mess hall was a vast space of clatter and scraping but no talking. When James tried to whisper something about the strangeness of it all, Fjallheim was on him in an instant, handing out demerits. There was nothing any of them could do except eat.

  Still, they had to wait for their turn in line. Meanwhile, Alexander and many of his classmates watched Terra through the large windows in the exterior section of the mess hall. The night side of the planet happened to be spinning beneath them, but they could see the cities of Pan Atlantis stretching from Oslo just beneath the Arctic Circle to Rome, Jerusalem and Cairo. The Mediterranean Sea stood was a huge irregularly shaped black pit with radiant edges of civilization tracing the coastline. The Red Sea had no cities or towns on its coast, but the green phosphorescence of the fast currents in the Suez Straight caused spectacular ripples and eddies in the black waters, highlighting the lifeless coastal islands and radioactive waters of the Arabian Whirlpool. The sight was a familiar one, or it would have been had it not been for the fires flickering in many of the cities and towns and the ominous blue haze that covered the planet—a blue haze fed by the pulsating blue beam emanating from the Academy.