by A. I. Zlato
The day was starting, and the night and dreams had to end, making way for efficiency and reason. She thought about all the tools she had at her disposal to chase this nonsense out of her head. An infusion, not too strong, or rather intravenous sedation, would be good, but she would have an unproductive day; intense exercise for hours, but she had no time for sports … She knew. What had always helped her, allowed her to excel, gained her absolute trust? The Machine … Nothing can match the Machine … My life is dedicated to the Machine, and the Machine is my life, read the Invocation. The Machine would provide the solution, as always.
Baley then did something she knew was possible without having ever done it. She asked the Machine to intervene in her mental processes, to relegate all her negative thoughts into oblivion. She needed to think clearly in order to focus on all her energy on the investigation, and could not afford to allow intrusive thoughts, which opened doors she did not want to see. Not now. Not at all. Why. Perhaps. All that had to stop! She felt nervous impulses from the chip, removing thoughts that disturbed her, and helping clear her mind.
Baley could breathe freely again, something she had been unable to do for many hours. She was finally able to start her day, preparing herself, physically by dressing up and swallowing two energy bars, and mentally by reviewing what she had to do. While doing her job, she realised what she had just done … she had asked the Machine to annihilate part of her brain … a request coming from her … for her own good … for her … or was it the Machine that … it was too late when she became aware of the price she would be paying, whole sections of her memory locked out, inaccessible for now … for an indeterminate time. She had a sense of déjà vu, of having already found gaps, empty spaces in her mind … but … when … for what occasion … she should not think about it. It did not matter.
None. What mattered was the mission, and she could now focus on it. Yes, that was it. That was what she had to do. She had made the right choice. Everything was clear. It was the right choice. That was what she had chosen. The investigation, first and foremost. Rationality and logic, first and foremost. That was the best choice.
With her shoes on, an energy bar in her mouth, her coffee cup by the front, ready to be drunk, the magnetic lock already unlocked, the summary of the investigation in her mind, Baley felt some tingling in her temple, indicating an incoming message. There was an indirect message, which meant a message from someone who had no chip, in other words, Paul. It had to be cumbersome to have to go to a terminal, type a message, send it, and wait thereby, static, for a possible response, whereas the chip enabled one to do everything faster, more simply.
She was lucky, really lucky, to have … to have the Machine, which could erase her subversive thoughts … while leaving a dark area … do not think about it … she had made the right choice.
She read the message, which required her to go to the laboratory, and indicated that Paul and his colleagues had completed the study of all documents covering cults.
She did not know who Paul’s colleagues were. She would find out, once there, with whom he had surrounded himself, and why he had taken such an initiative. If he had bothered to send a message, and knowing his aversion for technology, Baley thought he must have found interesting information. She had felt lately that he could be useful, and this message was further proof, in case she needed some.
Still, he was anti-Machine. He remained someone of whom she had to careful, whose thoughts … that was unnecessary. The right choice, that was certain.
She left her apartment, slamming the door, immediately after reading the message. She felt a vague sense of guilt for not having talked to Iris, as she had promised to Lars. That feeling quickly dissipated, as if it were aspired by the section of her brain under the chip’s grip. She said to herself she had to devote her time to the investigation, first and foremost. Talking to her daughter could occur on another day. Same for minding her husband’s business. Both would wait.
She crossed the place and headed to the rail station, her favourite hub of transportation, as Paul had observed. She looked up in the sky, and saw a few Kandrons, flying below the clouds, above the City, in this intermediate zone that was theirs. She remembered vaguely having pondering something about Kandrons … but what? This quasi-recollection, too, was almost instantly absorbed by the dark area of her brain.
When she entered the laboratory, the guard recognised her and immediately uttered a deluge of polite and obsequious words, as did the people who had the feeling of having a subordinate job, to which Baley did not bother to reply. He nonetheless gave her a piece of useful information, that is, that Paul was in the meeting room, two halls further than his office, where she had joined him during her previous visit.
She headed to the corridor, passed by Paul’s office, where she saw Vlad, his feet on the table, watching intently whatever channel. Two sub-cubicles away, she entered a room, in which Paul was likely to be. Once in, she found him, surrounded by a man and a woman, who introduced themselves as Alex and Sandra. She learned that Paul had asked for their help, in order to sift through all documents faster. These two individuals fit the personality of a researcher, by the way they were, how they moved, and how they dressed.
They fit the job, as the job fit them, with their simple, functional clothes, their hands covered with foam plastic, and their workplaces full of dusty manuscripts and old equipment. She wondered if they thought the same thing of her, that her appearance strictly matched her Special Agent job. She nearly formulated an idea heading in that direction, but it disappeared instantly from her mind.
Never mind — she was there to hear what Paul, Sandra and Alex had discovered. They wanted to speak in turns, each giving his or her summary, which Baley agreed to, enjoining them to be as concise as possible. What mattered to her was information she could use against Chrijulam, not a litany on paper quality or the author’s mindset. Sandra and Alex were shocked by her remarks, but did not say anything. Alex decided to start. He had read books covering with the sect specifically, while Sandra and Paul were interested in documents dealing with cults in general. It seemed wise to begin with the history of the cult before focusing on the broader topic of methods used by these religious movements.
Baley listened to his summary on Chrijulam beliefs, a recap that was of little substance, but his relevant analysis caught her attention. According to him, Chrijulam was founded based on the rejection of change, given that it probably was among several early religions. For believers, the Machine epitomised the change they so disliked. The outside world, which consented to that evolution, became, according to them, the source of evil, and any interaction with this world rendered them infidels.
However, they were unable to live completely outside civilisation, so they started glorifying, in an extreme way, life after death, which they thought was the only escape from this world’s impurity. Though Alex’s narrative, Baley understood better the succession of events, decisions and beliefs that had led Chrijulam followers to where they were today. They had become a tiny community, which, voluntarily, excluded itself from the City’s social life, clinging onto beliefs that were in contradiction with the rest of society. All elements were present to induce deep despair among the children, who could not do otherwise than to live in this disdained world. She readily acknowledged that the City was not perfect, that there could be room for improvement, adjustments corrections and modifications to make — but rejecting everything altogether was extreme … How could one live serenely if he or she excluded himself or herself, from civilisation, while being forced to live there, anyway? How had these been beliefs been perpetuated through centuries, unchanged vis-à-vis life, vis-à-vis other people, the nonbelievers? That was beyond their comprehension.
It was Sandra’s turn to talk about her readings. She took her glasses, which lay on the table, and placed them on her nose. The frame faded completely, and the glasses fit her cornea, leaving only a particular shine in her eyes as a reminder of their presenc
e. Baley furtively asked why Sandra did not opt for permanent lenses, inserted into the eye, a routine surgical operation that she also underwent. Maybe that was a myth probably popular in the Lower Circles, an unfounded refusal to adopt safe technology, as she, too, refused to manually read books under the pretext that it was a waste of time.
How could one live in the same City, mingle, talk, spend time with others, and eventually be in individual bubbles, a prisoner of one’s prejudices, clichés and beliefs of all sorts? What if Chrijulam were nothing but an extreme version of behaviour that everyone, ultimately, had? Baley was wondering when, like all thoughts deviating a little bit from the investigation, her reflection vanished.
Since she asked earlier the Machine to act on her mind, some of her questions logged almost instantly into the limbo of her subconscious mind, leaving her brain clear, but also strangely empty. It did not matter. She had made the right choice.
She turned her attention to Sandra, who had just started her summary. She had studied poignant testimonies of people who had fallen into the spiral of a sect and who had managed to leave. Impatient, Baley clenched fists, waiting to hear how it was possible to get out of a mesh of beliefs so stifling and alienating. Sandra explained the essential role of the outsider. Getting someone out of the claws of a sect was a high-risk activity, very trying emotionally, with no guarantee of success, because some believers might rush back into the sect, so brainwashed that they could not see the second chance coming their way.
Baley took note of the info, and thought about the current situation, about these dozens of at-risk children, who were not aware of living in a sealed bubble, or who did not know it was possible to live otherwise. To use this method to separate each at-risk child from the next, Baley calculated that the full-time work force to commit to the task far exceeded the total current headcount of Special Agents, all categories included. Nevertheless, it was important to know that extraction was possible.
Sandra did not provide useful solutions about that topic, but she had given Baley hope, that one could save these children from a hell of beliefs, which prevented them from living fully in the City, among others, from enjoying life outside their community.
Following on, Paul provided his summary, not without gratifying Sandra with a bright smile, as Baley had never seen him give. She thought that, ultimately, Paul was not so different from her; he was a human, capable of loving and being loved, if she were to judge things by Sandra’s blushing face after Paul’s beam. There was, or would soon be, something between these two researchers, indicating the ability of each to remain human, despite everything, despite addictive jobs, as she and Lars lived. Baley was careful not to make any comment, and pretended she had not noticed anything, focusing on Paul’s remarks. He explained what he had read about mind control techniques used in cults, how the believer’s mind is locked through mental barriers, which destroyed his personality and locked him up psychologically in an unhealthy dependence. His presentation, comprehensive and detailed, gave shudders, as it exposed the Machiavellianism used against other human beings, in order to enslave or even annihilate the personality of an entire group of individuals. The methodology was similar to real brainwashing, to enable people to accept contradictions, half-truths, inaccuracies, a real perversion of the individual.
The techniques, well established, required a violent de-conditioning when the believer was snatched from the sect, so he or she can regain his or her free will, the ability to think, and the chance to live in another world. Once out, the believer had to a lot to reintegrate a society, which was foreign to him or her, as the re-conditioning was long and demanding.
Baley thanked all three sincerely for the promptness and quality of their work, because now she knew exactly what she had to do. Sandra asked timidly if one could expect the Problem to be solved rapidly, but Baley replied that she never ventured into that kind of prognosis in an investigation. Sandra took a step back, to absorb such a dry response, and Baley apologised immediately, stating that she did not want to give false hope to anyone, and she would personally notify them when the investigation would be over, but not before. Sandra nodded, before vanishing into the office next to the meeting room, eager to go back to her research. Alex followed her, after greeting Baley and Paul. The latter stayed, hoping to hear about the next steps in the investigation. She noticed the change in attitude he was now displaying. He now was a legitimate member of the investigation team and was acting as such, harnessing resources to speed up research, making relevant and synthetic abstracts, and staying with her to continue the work. A true anti-Machine teammate … what an oxymoron! Oxymoron? She had forgotten that she knew such a word, and … everything just faded in her mind.
“So? What do you think of all this?” He asked.
“What all three of you have found is very informative, and you were right to send me a message. It was worth that I come here.”
“You are too kind … I will pass your compliments again to Alex and Sandra.”
“Sure, you can.”
“Good … and now, what do we do?”
“We think, and we do things! We have a lot of relevant information. We now need to act.”
“Do you already have a plan?”
Oh yeah, she had a plan, but before disclosing it to her teammate, she wanted to make sure he would be the only one to hear it, as discretion was critical to success. She went to his office, with Paul following. He quickly dismissed Vlad before closing the door carefully.
“I will ask the Machine to list all people likely to belong to the sect, who have children ages 10-13. I expand the age bracket a bit, because it otherwise would not include, say, a family with a child who will turn 11 next week, or next month. Once the list obtained, I will send teams to schools, to remove the children from their parents’ stronghold.”
“I beg your pardon? What motive would you use to snatch children from their families?”
“City safety. That’s the absolute motive, which overrides everything else.”
“Why do you need to be so brutal with these children? They will be scared!”
“You and I heard Sandra’s summary. There is no gentle approach to retrieve someone from a cult. Plus, I do not have the resources to assign one person to each child, to play the role of the outsider for weeks, before the children themselves decide to leave the cult. I would have to recruit relatives they trust, but who do not belong to the sect. I would need to explain the process to them, to make sure they agree with the process, and that they do things according to plan — of course, with no guarantee of success. There are far many uncertainties, with long defers. I do not want to risk the occurrence of another Problem. I will make sure the children receive the best care and supervision, to prevent disruption as much as possible, but no matter the approach we ultimately use, it will be violent for the kids. I choose the approach with the highest probability of success”.
“What will you do with all these kids?”
“I will commandeer a building, which will be both dormitory and school. The Machine will assign teachers to respective classes, while adding a new element to the curriculum, ’Mental Re-programming’; that is critical”.
“Oh my … oh my … that is violent! You will turn half the City against you! People will quickly understand that religion was the main selection criterion. Believers of all faith systems will rail against you … What would happen if, eventually, some listed families were not part of Chrijulam? What if a child tried to contact his or her family? What if the adult followers were ostracised and lynched?”
“Whatever will be, will be. My only focus is preventing another reoccurrence of the Problem. The building will be under surveillance, and so will ‘Chrijulam families’ be. When people will realise that children stop committing suicides, they will rally behind me.”
“But … come on …”
“You are sceptical, I can see that. You think the plan will not work?”
“I am worried about the side
effects, chain reactions, a domino effect, lives of children and parents changing abruptly, people’s reactions, etc.”
“There may be collateral damage.”
“It is a strange way of seeing things!!! And how do you make sure the children do not … the children do not commit suicide, anyway? All of them gathering at the same location?”
“Keeping them under constant surveillance.”
“You are putting them in jail …”
“It is easy to criticise, and focus on everything that could go wrong. Yes, there are possible consequences. Yes, the unexpected could occur, I don’t deny it; however, the Problem requires a radical solution.”
“That is awful. Simply atrocious.”
“Do you have any other suggestions?”
“No, but …”
“Ok, then let go and establish the plan.”
“It is not because you only see one solution that it is necessarily the right one …”
Baley left Paul hurriedly. She had no desire to listen to his moral objections, to embark on a moral and philosophical discussion. He stood static, shook his head, yet still unable to suggest an alternative, lost in the maze of his morality. He had completed his share of the work, had provided valuable information, which led her to develop this plan. It was the only effective way to extract a large number of children from their environment, and to ensure their re-conditioning. She would take the necessary precautions to protect parents, enabling them to avoid facing mob justice, and to maintain peace in the City. She knew what she had to do.
Somewhere in her mind, something moved, an idea emerged in the shadow area locked by the Machine … but she did not take notice.
She left the lab, and saw Edgard. The Kandron, lying on the lawn, shot a heavy and pointed look at her, which made her uncomfortable. She continued walking, trying not to look back. The rail brought her back to the heart of the City, nearby the Tower. She asked to reach the first floor of the Machine, indicating the priority code City Safety, which she had never used before. She immediately received an allocated area, as well as an ‘indefinite’ period. She did not even know that was possible … The Machine did not restrict her access to it; It was available to listen to her; Baley had It for her alone … She put her palms and forearms, and even her forehead, on the membrane that filled all the available space. Once connected, she sent the information collected, and her action plan.