Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1)

by Parker, Gavin E

  Venkdt glancingly noticed the envelope whilst looking up at the PA. “Yes,” he said. “Can you clear the whole day for me? I don’t think there was much booked in, but I need the whole day. Something’s come up. And could you get someone from IT to bring one of those super-high resolution cameras by for this afternoon?”

  “Yes,” said the PA. “Clear the diary, arrange a camera.”

  She looked at Venkdt, hoping for an explanation. He obliged.

  “I’m making an announcement this afternoon. On my stream. It’s quite important, so I want it to look as good as possible. And I need the day to sort a few things out for it.”

  “I see,” said the PA, though she didn’t see.

  “I’ll get on to IT right away. Don’t forget that letter. It was hand delivered by courier so I think it’s important or legal or something.” She left.

  Venkdt spent a few seconds finishing up what he was doing at the terminal before he picked up the letter. He was still reading from his terminal screen as he tore the envelope open.

  The letter was headed ‘Strich, Oatridge and Phillips’. He was familiar with them. They were the première law firm on Mars. He had recently met with all three senior partners in lieu of Jack Karjalainen. His eye fell to the bottom of the letter, where he saw the words ‘on behalf of Hjälp Teknik Inc’. He half knew what to expect as he moved to the top of the page and started reading.

  The letter was written in legalese and fundamentally didn’t say anything. It expressed Jack Karjalainen’s great displeasure and worry about Venkdt’s proposed breakup. It alluded to various legal remedies that Hjälp Teknik may be forced to use if some vaguely defined events came to pass. It was bluster, piss and vinegar designed primarily to say ‘we are annoyed with you and we have lawyers’ and not much else. Venkdt felt disappointed. He cast the letter aside. He knew that the founding of the newly independent Mars would ruffle feathers and make enemies here and there. He was disappointed that the first enemy was someone so close by and someone so like himself, a captain of industry creating wealth on the new frontier. The letter also reminded him of the sad likelihood that Jack Karjalainen would not live to see the independent Mars.

  Venkdt spent the rest of the morning working on emails. He would send them immediately he had finished his broadcast. He knew there would be some people who needed assurances, details and other calming words. He had been thinking about this project and this day for many years. He had worked it all out in very fine detail and he had masses of documentation regarding the constitution, the legal aspects, the economic impact and even the military angle, which was negligible. If anyone had any qualms or questions he had answers for them, oil to pour on the troubled waters of their minds.

  He worked the rest of the morning in his office and took lunch on his own in an ante-room. After lunch he had a long snooze, not waking until after three. He had a few minutes to go over the speech one last time.

  Charles Venkdt’s personal stream was not, by any stretch of the imagination, oversubscribed. A good deal of his workforce were subscribers and there was a smattering of business and finance journalist. Some old school friends and long forgotten acquaintances made up the rest of the numbers. He had sent instructions to all his workers that they should tune in to the stream at 16:00. All managers were aware of this and where possible the stream was to be shown on the biggest screens available. Venkdt had also managed to get Marsnet to do a live restream of the announcement. Marsnet was one of the biggest information aggregators on Mars, the nearest thing it had to network television.

  At 16:00 Venkdt sat in front of the camera he had ordered and made his speech.

  “People of Mars,” he began. “At a little after midnight this morning St Joseph’s Hospital right here in Central Marineris witnessed the birth of the hundred thousandth human inhabitant of Mars. I believe this to have been a milestone in the founding of this great planet of ours. My forefathers and many of yours came to this seemingly barren planet with hope for a better future, and the strength and conviction to build that future. We follow today in their footsteps, and where they broke rocks and built basic homes and workplaces, we today need to break from the traditional hierarchy and build institutions and cultures that will see a strong Mars grow into everything it can be. To that end, I will be putting a plebiscite to you, the people of Mars, asking for your consent in the great adventure of building a new and independent planet. The plebiscite will make a simple statement; ‘I believe that Mars should pursue a course independent of the USAN, with an independent financial apparatus, judiciary, legislature and executive’. Voters will be asked simply if they concur with that statement, ‘yes’ or ‘no’. If the voters return ‘yes’, with a majority of more than two thirds, and with a turnout of more than eighty percent, I have a proposed constitution for an independent Mars - available for perusal - that we could implement in less than sixty days. The constitution allows for free and open elections to a senate. The very first matter of business for that senate would be to debate the constitution, and amend it accordingly.”

  He paused before carrying on.

  “An independent Mars would have its own courts, its own laws, its own banks and it would represent itself democratically. We would have our own police force - I would personally donate officers from Venkdt Security to found this - and we would have our own military, as small as that might need to be.

  “I understand that many of you will see this proposal as tantamount to treason or otherwise illegal. Let me assure you that if you vote ‘no’ your voices will be heard. If we arrive at a state of independence we will bear you no grudge. Our church will be a broad one. If any of you feel strongly that you cannot be a part of our new world we will do our utmost to help you resettle, if necessary, or to otherwise accommodate your exceptionalism. It is my hope that you will vote ‘yes’ on election day, and that the changing of Mars’ status will happen smoothly and with very little effect on the day-to-day. Should a ‘yes’ majority not be achieved I would, of course, resign my position and submit myself to the mercy of the courts in the USAN.

  “The plebiscite will take place in six weeks’ time. There will be ample chance to debate the pros and cons of the issue and I hope we will have a lively and well-informed debate. I, of course, will be urging you all to vote ‘yes’.

  “This will be a crucial moment in the history of our planet and I put my trust in you, the people of Mars, to make the right decision.

  “Finally, I would like to say that what I am proposing is not a radical departure from the lifestyle and culture that we enjoy now, but more of a reshaping of the underlying structure of our society here on this planet better to suit our development into the future. I would liken my proposal to something like a demerger. We would continue from much the same place we are now, but with ownership of our destiny. Thank you.”

  Venkdt Mars Corp retained the services of Christina Venkdt to oversee the organisation of the plebiscite. With a relatively small Martian population it wasn’t a particularly complicated task, but it had to be seen as being fair and transparent. There was an open system for electronic elections that had been used for many years on Earth. Christina thought they would go with the same system and brought in Kostovich to take care of that end of things. Voter registration would be a little more complex; she had a small team for that. They would individually contact every person on Mars and have them register to vote or otherwise record their objections. Venkdt’s initial proposal had called for a minimum eighty percent turnout. It was likely that some at the more extreme end of the ‘no’ camp, who were infuriated by what they saw as the illegitimacy of the plebiscite, would refuse to even register. Christina knew that it was therefore essential that registration refusals were kept to a bare minimum or the plebiscite would be lost before it had even been run. Working on the assumption that most Venkdt employees would go along with Venkdt’s plebiscite, and that most objectors would come from the Hjälp Teknik camp, gave them a probable nine to one r
atio to start with. That meant that maximising the final ten percent of registrations was crucial to the success of the plebiscite.

  Registration went well, far better than expected. To most people, it seemed, a plebiscite was the most reasonable thing in the world. The fact that Venkdt had no legitimate right to call a plebiscite, and that he was running it with no legal basis whatsoever, seemed of no import to most people. They seemed to see the plebiscite for what it was; a simple show of hands, a question innocently asked of the Martian populace - where did they see their future going? Venkdt had been smart enough to figure that from the off. To a legal mind it seemed crazy and against all reason. To the man or woman on the street it seemed like a reasonable question, and as such perfectly reasonable to ask it. Following from that logic it seemed perfectly reasonable to answer it.

  There were some refuseniks, most feeling quietly dignified in their embrace with legal principles, but occasionally someone would pop up who wanted to make a big noise about it. Someone who would harangue the registrars over the phone, or who might take to the streams to tell anyone who would listen what a foul travesty of natural justice was being perpetrated upon the people. The people didn’t seem to mind too much.

  Senior management at Hjälp Teknik retained an air of aloof indifference as though they were above such coarse things. They went about their business like elderly women ignoring the skateboarders and glue sniffers they had to negotiate on their way to the shops. To deny the voter registration process any legitimacy they simply ignored it. As a policy it was hopeless, since most of the population didn’t ignore it but positively embraced it. Those who denied the legitimacy of the plebiscite were simply left behind as its momentum and the public’s interest in it surged past them. Within a few short weeks what had once seemed like a contentious issue simply became a fact, like the weather. A plebiscite was going to happen; the people were going to vote.

  The date for the plebiscite was set for 6 June by the Gregorian Earth calendar, which many felt ill-suited to Martian requirements. Some of the more enthusiastic ‘yes’ campaigners were hoping that independence would mean a switch to a Martian calendar, which would make much more sense for Martians.

  Kostovich had the necessary systems for the plebiscite in place within a few days. Hardware was not an issue, and from a software perspective it was a trivial task. Voter registration was mostly complete after two weeks, which left a further four weeks for campaigning.

  Campaigning was mostly carried out via the streams. Aggregators could easily gather the most popular ‘yes’ or ‘no’ streams together for the interested viewer. ‘Yes’ streams massively outnumbered ‘no’ streams, and the popularity of ‘yes’ fed on itself. Not being a part of the ‘yes’ streams, consuming others’ or adding your own, seemed somehow like being on the outside of the big party. ‘No’ streams often seemed dour, pompous, self-serving and backward-looking. ‘Yes’ streams appeared to be fun, dynamic, modern and forward-looking.

  Charles Venkdt contributed a lot of his own ‘yes’ streams. His were mostly serious and detailed. He had thought the whole thing through in great detail and had masses of documentation to back himself up. He laid out his position clearly with very skilfully made arguments. He made a compelling case but was not the most popular ‘yes’ stream. That honour went to Independence Monkey - a monkey wearing a ‘Vote Yes!’ T-shirt who variously fell off a table, skateboarded, and flung his poo at the camera.

  By the time plebiscite day came around it was looking like a done deal. Christina, Venkdt and Kostovich could all see potential for disaster. If everyone thought the die was cast there would be no incentive to vote. Though it seemed like there was an overwhelming ‘yes’ majority they would all have to turn out to vote in order that the necessary eighty percent turnout was reached. On the eve of the plebiscite ninety-four percent of the Martian population had registered to vote. The fourteen percent margin would be crucial to the whole thing. If fourteen percent or more of the Martian population didn’t turn out then the ‘noes’ would have it. Despite riding the crest of a huge wave of popularity for the ‘yes’ campaign, for Charles Venkdt 6 June was going to be a very long day.

  On the day of the plebiscite Venkdt rose at his usual time of 07:00. Voting started at 08:00. He went about his daily routine, arriving at Venkdt Mars Corp HQ shortly before 09:00. The security guard greeted him warmly as usual and he said cheery hellos to colleagues here and there on his way to the office. There was an extra spring in his step that day.

  His PA greeted him warmly. “Good morning, Mr Venkdt,” she said. “Lovely day for a plebiscite.”

  Venkdt smiled and nodded. “It is too,” he said. Indeed, the skies were clear and the wind was low, though the living and working environments of the Martian population remained sealed off against the cold, low-pressure of the external atmosphere. “I’m expecting a good turnout,” said Venkdt, employing the ancient electoral vocabulary. “I’ll be in my office most of the day. I’m expecting Christina and Dr Kostovich to come by later, could you organise some lunch and drinks? Just sandwiches or something.”

  “Of course, Mr Venkdt.”

  Venkdt entered his office and sat at his terminal. He scanned through his messages and seeing nothing of note went to his aggregator, searching for any streams concerning the election. He quickly found one called News Muncher. It was quite a slick operation. The name seemed to ring a bell somewhere in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t be quite sure if he had heard of them before. He didn’t know if they were an ongoing organisation or if a couple of enterprising individuals had slung the thing together just to cover the election. Feeds ran across the bottom of the screen advertising books about politics, revolution and business - this was obviously where News Muncher’s revenue was coming from - but there were also many other advertisements and links for competing streams. Venkdt was happy enough with this one.

  There were two anchors, discussing and commenting on events with at least some low-level insight. They constantly cut to other streams of people out and about, often little groups of people discussing how they had voted or what they expected the outcome to be, or how it might affect them. For every person who stated how they had voted a tracker in the top left corner of the screen kept tally. The anchors repeatedly mentioned how their tally ‘was not scientific’ but that the more people they canvassed the more accurate it was likely to be. By this early stage in the day they had caught on the streams one hundred and eighty-seven clearly voiced declarations, with one hundred and sixty-one claiming to have voted ‘yes’. Next to the raw number was the ‘yes’ percentage: eighty-six percent, well over the sixty-seven percent needed for the two-thirds majority. This was what Venkdt had expected but it was no cause for celebration. The crucial number, he knew, was going to be turnout. If too few people voted they would not reach the eighty percent that he had stipulated in his proposal. He knew too that he really needed the turnout to be as high as possible. He needed the raw numbers to give any victory a natural legitimacy that it would not strictly have in law. He had known that all along, and knew it might be difficult, but it was absolutely necessary. For the plebiscite to represent the voice of the people it had to represent the voice of all of the people, or a good approximation thereof. It was, he knew, a numbers game.

  He watched the show for the best part of an hour. By then it had become repetitive and its main point had been made many times over. The ‘yes’ vote was extremely strong, people were generally engaged in the debate and process, and there was something of a party atmosphere to the whole occasion. Venkdt had made the day a holiday; most of his employees had the day off. He had also laid on some special events such as election parties and cook-offs, complete with large screens showing election coverage.

  Once his interest in the show had waned Venkdt thought it must be time for him to do the deed himself. He flipped the stream from his terminal up on to one of the walls and lowered the sound until it was only just audible. He brought out his comdev
and ran the voting app. It immediately asked him for his voter registration number. He brought that up on his terminal and sent it to the comdev, which dutifully told him it was a legitimate number belonging to Charles Venkdt. It gave his address and various other details and confirmed that the comdev it was running on was registered to the same Charles Venkdt as the registration number. It then requested an iris scan and a left thumb print. Venkdt held the comdev to his eye and then placed his thumb on the screen in the designated position. The comdev related the information back to the voter registration database and once again informed him he was eligible to vote, and would he like to proceed? He was about to answer ‘yes’ when he paused. He lay the comdev down on his desk and turned to the terminal. He fired up the built-in camera and fed it through to his stream. He spoke slightly awkwardly to the camera. “Hi, this is Charles Venkdt here and I’m about to vote in the plebiscite, and I hope you are too!”

  He turned his attention back to the comdev. He pressed ‘yes’ that he would like to proceed. The screen changed. The independence statement was written across the top third of the screen in very clear lettering. Below it, in smaller letters, was a clock counting down from 00:59 surrounded by the works ‘You have’ and ‘seconds remaining to cast your vote’. Below that the rest of the screen was taken up with two very large buttons; a green one, emblazoned with the word ‘yes’ and a red one with the word ‘no’. Venkdt wanted to savour the moment but he was very aware of the counter, which had already reached 00:48 by the time he had carefully read the statement, which he knew to the letter anyway. He held the comdev up toward the camera and smiled for posterity then very deliberately pressed the green ‘yes’ button. The comdev spoke. “Thank you. Your vote has been recorded. You will be informed of the result when polling closes at 22:00 this evening.”