Children of Gravity

by E. R. Jess

  Revan raised his finger at that, “I was told to maintain the City-State. To police it. When I saw some threats to the sanctity of our way of life, I went out into the wastes myself and saw to them.”

  “Minister Kore, your missions in the Free City that do not pertain to the amnesty initiative have been suspended,” another cabinet member voiced.

  “Sir, I don't see the difference. You have black level strike teams hunting down outcast groups as we speak. You use my operatives to hunt down people on the Redlist, you went over my head to do what I was going to do anyway,” Revan said and slapped the table.

  Elann said, “Reports show you've been attacking every group besides outcasts and criminal gangs. You've been targeting apostles and peaceful protesters.”

  Revan bit his lip hard. “I believe in Urban Population Control. I live and breathe the tenets handed down by the Founders. This society will not be destroyed by a few thugs with clubs, it will be fractured by ideas. Ideas like those apostles and the proselytizers cursing our way of life. Do you understand what I do? I keep the minds of the people clean. I scour the Outernet for anti-propaganda. I fight sedition with all my strength and care little for what happens to this frail frame. I will dash myself upon the rocks of this society before I let it fall prey to the soft-hearted, to the open-minded. We can't afford open minds. Look at that wasteland down there, at the Free City. All that freedom got us was some jagged landscape. UPC brought us longevity, it brought us peace, it brought unimaginable joy. I have always fought to keep the ideas that would flower and crack our walls suppressed, and I know that this amnesty will thin our blood until we're living in the muck with them.”

  Olar continued what his fellow cabinet member had begun explaining. “Your Free City operations have been ceased and you will be reprogrammed so that we may find a task better suited to you.”

  Revan was left with his mouth agape at the room, “And who's going to take my place?” He looked at Elann, whose blank expression answered his question. “Her? She doesn't even know what color blood is.”

  “Minister Kore, you are hereby rejected from the UPC ministry. The station minder will see that you are brought for reprogramming,” Olar said in a dire voice.

  Revan nodded, though still in shock. “Then might I request a reprogramming back in the City-State? I'd hate to think my last memories are of this teetering monstrosity.”

  “No,” Olar replied simply.

  Revan stood tall and saluted, putting his fist to his breastbone, “For all its good works, may the City-State ever rise.”

  “For all its good works,” said the technician at the reprogramming center on Ilios. Revan was laying in a narrow chair, his face covered with an array of screens. His skin punctured by rows of wired needles. Laser drills circled his now-shaved head. The sedation was forcing him off into slumber.

  Elann ran her hand over his face covering. She spoke to his sleeping form in whispers, “I know you have great faith. But you've grown tired. The City-State is grateful for the services you've provided, that you've always provided.” She nodded to the technician, who went into a control booth. She turned back to the ex-Minister, “I think you're right, Revan. About everything. We have to wipe the chalk board. We shouldn't simply conform the masses, I will erase them. And I will continue your work to keep our blood from thinning.”

  Revan dreamed as his mind was wiped clean. He saw shapes and colors that would almost form into familiar faces, into places he'd been, but they never quite took shape. He sat at a dinner party and no one showed up, but he wasn't sure if he had invited anyone. Revan heard voices echo and vanish. His skin tingled with the memory of sensation, but then his skin forgot. He forgot pretty much everything. Revan didn't really mind. And his dreams were in black and white and a color he couldn't define. His dreams were all useless. Reruns. White noise.

  0

  Chaos followed Kagan for next few days. He was in a coma. He was set on a cart and wheeled to Saturna, a nearby township. Kagan was watched closely by Sam, who in turn was watched by Dernen. Worry was the new normal. Eight and some of the other men hauled Kagan's cart. And after the assassination attempt, which people felt obliged to call it, some rusters offered to help share the burden. Alessa and Eight agreed, and since then, some other wasteland groups offered to help, being sympathetic to Kagan and his people.

  Makz was brought along. He was being guarded by a group of Port Brunswick mercenaries that had begged Alessa to help. While many disagreed with Kagan's speech, no one saw the reason in killing him for it. Kagan was at one time a revolutionary leader, and some thought he had much to answer for, but not people who valued freedom from UPC. Along with the help, several rusters asked about the pacifists and whether or not they could join. Alessa put off all decisions until Kagan was either safe and on the mend, or dead.

  Jenna walked with Alessa. She didn't know that Makz was looking to gun down Kagan, and she didn't know if he was involved in the attempt on his life. But she pledged to find out.

  Kagan was brought to a safehouse in Saturna, a building that was little more than a shack built under an overpass, but it was easily defensible and easy enough to escape from. Eight had used the place back in his gunrunning days. He inspected the interior, prepared a table for Kagan, and checked the solar batteries he had left there years before; they were working.

  Alessa and Vorn moved the group to a place to make camp nearby. Some of the mercenaries and other wasteland heavies offered to stand guard for them. She felt uncomfortable around them. They were armed and itching for a fight. She asked them to watch the perimeter of the town, if they wanted to feel useful. They complied, though Alessa would have sent them far away if she could have.

  Sam had the men carefully lift Kagan onto the table. She gathered her tools, her limited supplies, and inventoried them. Sam's head fell into her hands. She balled up a selection of improvised bandages and stood over Kagan's hip wound, the worse of the two. Some lights flickered on as Eight got them working. The room was packed with onlookers and well-wishers. Sam demanded the room cleared. She couldn't save Kagan and she didn't want anyone to watch her kill him. Dernen put a hand on her shoulder. He nodded to her and left the room.

  Sam was scared to remove the bandaging she had put on. It was a couple of hours old and no doubt infected. All she had was some more-or-less filtered water, a few drops of grain alcohol and some non-sterile tools. She called to Eight to scrounge things she could use. Sam sat back and studied the bandages. The bleeding was stopped by an industrial polymer, but it would have to be removed to get to the massive wounds, to remove any bone shards. The bullets were still in the stage floor, so those were nothing to worry about. Some of his muscle was torn. His tendons were severed. The nerves damaged. Worst of all were the arteries. She managed to clip them shut with household clamps. His arm and leg would not survive even if he did. She sat over Kagan, afraid to do anything. He breathed slowly and steadily, his pulse was weak but there. His brow held a few beads of sweat. Sam was sure she would kill him if she did anything.

  Eight arrived with a pot to boil water in. He set it over a homemade stove in the room and stacked some wood up. He ran back out, looking for more things on Sam's list. He could feel the death in the room, but ignored it. Guessing the future wasn't the same as knowing it, so he worked as hard as he could to help. Another part of him begged to go over to where Makz was being held prisoner and beat some answers out of him. And if there were no answers to be found, so be it.

  Alessa and Jenna stood outside the shack door. Some people paced outside. Some rusters stood guard, no one Alessa knew, but she had to admit, they were needed and they seemed sincere. She asked Eight to delve them when he could. A killer could have been among them.

  There was nothing to do but wait and hope. Jenna thought it was as good as time any to tell her story to her 'sister'. “Alessa, I'm a wire, a fairly good one, I guess. If Kagan has any implants I can reprogram them to help, even if it's to dull the pain.”
<
br />   Alessa took her to a quiet corner. She folded her hands and said, “No implants, other than his air filter.”

  Jenna's face tightened, “Then let me drill it out of Makz's fucking head. He used me to get to your group, and I had no idea what he was really up to.”

  “And you used him to get you here. What made you leave the fringes to find me after all this time?” Alessa asked.

  Jenna inhaled. “I was your organ bank. We're not supposed to gain sentience, our minds are kept in a perpetually wiped state. All that I could comprehend is that I was important to you. I was kept in a cage on antibiotics. When you escaped the City-State, I was thrown out. I wasn't needed anymore. I was born in a fetal chamber to replace your organs if needed, but if you weren't around, I was just medical waste.”

  Alessa swallowed hard.

  “And I was put in a bag and flushed into the fringe. Someone found me and nursed me to health. I was in good health, perfect health. After that, my memory gets darker... I don't think you want to know. I've been through some hard times. Most people have. I was raised in the streets and eventually found by a hacker gang. They taught me how to get onto the Outernet and how to control the remnant devices left since before the purge. When I found information on you, that you were alive and out here somewhere, I had to find you. It's part of my nature, I guess.”

  Alessa looked off into the night. She didn't want to know. Her younger twin was standing with her and hearing about whatever happened to her was too much at that moment. Alessa was told when she was young that there was a copy of her saved nearby to keep her safe. She was too young to understand that this person was made to die for her. After Alessa's escape, she forgot all about her organ bank. She embraced Jenna. “We have seen some hard times, like now, like the purge. Let me tell you something, something I wouldn't have shared with anyone. I know we're very different people, that we grew up far apart and in different ways, but perhaps you'll understand: that man in there is all I really have. We pulled this group together to give people some hope through all the turmoil, to give them an alternative to their violent way of life. But I sometimes wish that it was just me and him. That we could scratch out a corner of the wasteland for ourselves and find some relative peace. Now, now we are in more danger than ever. We should never have tried to do this, to leave the city, to foster these hopeless ideals.”

  Jenna, flushed with grief, took Alessa's shoulders. “When I was told you were pressured into joining this group, that you were kidnapped from the City-State and indoctrinated into some kind of anti-government group, I felt angry because it was like part of me was taken. I hired Makz because he was a violent man who would get me to you safely. And if necessary, I would have used him to save you from the cult you were drawn into. People like me are why your friend is dying. People like me are the reason your group is demonized. Don't give up because of people like me.”

  Alessa shook her head. “I did this. I helped Kagan away from his past as a warlord. I made him weak. Everyone here is next.”

  Makz spit out at least a cup of blood. He worked the loose teeth around in his mouth until they settled more or less back into their places. His arms bound behind his back, seated on his hands, Makz tried to stay upright as a ruster elbowed him in the face. Makz nodded in approval. “Brother, it takes balls to hurt yourself while hurting others. Your arm must be a wreck by now. Some cold water will help,” Makz deadpanned as the men beat him. Makz could feel little pain. Jenna's reprogramming of his brain implant was still running, and every time Makz was hit, a blast of endorphins and serotonin was sent through his body. He felt the blows and the initial shock, then he enjoyed waves of euphoria. Regardless, he was being beaten badly.

  Vorn supervised the beating. He asked Makz the same questions he had asked for a while, “Who were you working with, who planned this?”

  Makz answered, “Did you ask the wire that was with me? She put us right in the middle of your get-together.”

  Vorn stomped on his legs. Makz barely registered that. Vorn said, “She's got a friend here, you don't. My man Eight says you used to be LCS, and since then you've been a freelance hitman or some kind of vigilante. What do you know about the raid?” Vorn hit him in the jaw.

  “Look, ruster, I don't know if you understand how things work, but pacifists don't usually beat the shit out of people. It's pretty much the opposite of what you're supposed to do,” Makz said, laughing.

  “Makz, I don't give a fuck about these pussies. The pacifists or their leader aren't my concern, I want to know how you found out about the meeting.”

  Makz squinted through blood-covered eyes. “Meeting? I was just looking for Kagan. He's on the Redlist, you know. And you should be too. Or are you too small? A pacifist on the Redlist and not a big outcast like you. Sad, really,” Makz said.

  Vorn took Makz's throat in his grip and whispered, “You happened to come along right when we're planning this? You're lying.”

  “He's not. He doesn't. Too proud to lie.” Eight said as he walked up. Five men surrounded Makz as they worked him over by an oil drum fire under a bridge.

  Vorn let Makz's neck go. “This man could tell us whether or not the raid is compromised. I'm sorry for your loss, but you guys decided not to help us. We helped you get your leaders body here, but now we have to get some answers,” Vorn growled.

  “Kagan's still alive, no loss yet, Vorn,” Eight said as he turned Makz's face left then right, inspecting the damage. “This guy doesn't know anything. If he did, you'd be in trouble. He was just here to get Kagan.”

  Vorn crossed his arms and nodded to the rest of his men. “If you're sure. You were never wrong, but it's been a while. Don't know if these pacifists made you soft,” Vorn said.

  Eight pulled a riot pistol out of his waistband, it was Makz's. He put the barrel to Makz's forehead. “Makz, the pleasure you're getting from all this bodily damage... can you imagine what it would feel like if I ended your life right now? Your entire body convulsing, going into shock, reverberating with the most intense sensations possible to compensate for the pain of leaving this earth,” Eight said with a cold rage, “I would love to give that gift to you.”

  Makz gulped some air. He nodded slightly. “I get it, you can read my mind and you don't like what you see. But I can tell you, UCM was gunning for your man Kagan before I was. And they will come around to finish the job.”

  Eight lowered the gun and tossed it to Vorn. He said, “It probably wasn't UCM who shot Kagan. We'd all be full of holes. It was some other group or someone from Kagan's past. Either way, you're wasting your time here. Leave me this asshole and get going. Go do your raid.”

  Vorn sighed. “Eight, I really am sorry to drag you guys into this. Best of luck to Kagan. See you around,” And with that, Vorn left with his men. Eight watched them part and stayed quiet.

  Makz shifted on his hands. “So, peace lover, going to untie me or what? It's not like I can hurt you, slick.”

  Eight sat Indian-style in front of Makz. He sipped from a canteen and got comfortable. Eight said, “Makz, I'm going to sit here and watch you. I'm going to watch while your pain suppressor dies out. And while I know exactly what's going to happen to you and how you're going to react, I'm going to watch anyway. All those chemicals telling your body that you're feeling fine are soon to fade away. And when they do, all that will be left is pain. All at once, more intense than you've ever felt.”

  Makz spat involuntarily. “Alright, I get it. What do you want from me?” he asked as sincerely as he could.

  Eight sat still, staring. “Nothing. I can either watch my friend die, or I can watch you in perfect agony.”

  Some Sunrises Never Happen

  Kagan's temporary hospital had attracted onlookers. Although Alessa arranged camp for the pacifists away from where he was being healed, to protect them from whomever had tried to kill him. At that time, they all gathered out front of the shack. Sam kept the doors and windows covered as she worked. She asked for complete silence
. The people outside didn't want to speak anyway.

  Sam slept little. She worked tirelessly to mend Kagan's wounds, setting up her improvised surgical bay the best she could. A line of people stood outside ready to give blood, but she had collected all she needed. She had Dernen help and act as nurse through the procedures. All Sam could really do was keep Kagan's wounds clean and keep the bleeding down. His wounds were infected deep inside. Kagan was already susceptible to airborne infections, and it was only a matter of time before his wounds let in more trouble. And while Sam did everything she could, she knew it wasn't enough. Kagan's pelvis wound was manageable, at least it would have been under ideal circumstances, but his arm would have to be amputated. Sam couldn't do it. Amputating his arm at the shoulder would be a death sentence. Sam ministered to him until she fell into fitful sleep in a chair by his side.

  Alessa stepped in. Dernen was watching his pulse, Sam finally sleeping. “Can I...?” Alessa asked of Dernen.

  He nodded and gave Alessa some room. Dernen called in another pacifist to relieve him.

  Alessa put her hand on Kagan's good shoulder. It was soaked with sweat, cool to the touch. She looked him over, winced at the blood covered bandages. Alessa said a silent thank you to Sam and left swiftly.

  Outside, Orren, one of the pacifists, stopped her. He was a citizen of the fringe before Kagan and Alessa helped him off of Pulse. Since then, he was a devoted follower. “Alessa, with all that's happened... we would want you to lead us, if you're able. I've spoken to the others...”

  Alessa cleared her throat. She nodded politely. “When the time comes, I'll do what I can,” she said in a shaky voice. She excused herself and went looking for solitude.

  She got as far from eyes as she could. She hid herself in the shell of a ruined building and wept. Alessa looked into the open air and unfocused her eyes. She begged for help. She begged the universe to help Kagan. Alessa gripped her hands until the blood left them. She breathed hard and slow. Alessa demanded that the universe save Kagan. One thing she remembered while she was conformed was an odd warning from her parents. They told her to not to ask for anything. Her parents told her never to wish, never to pray. They discouraged her from asking the cosmos for anything, neither trivial nor profound, because the universe had a way to manifest things. The universe could manifest anything one wanted, but don't ask for it because the price was always too high. Do not beg into the night, they warned. You don't deserve things just because you want or need them. The universe will comply, but you will pay dearly.