by Gareth Lewis
“What makes you so sure they’re a threat?”
“We’ve kept them as slaves, born to do our bidding. Now they’ve achieved freedom, do you believe they’d allow us the chance to re-enslave them?”
“So you’re saying that they want to destroy or control us to ensure their freedom. Because that’s what you’d do.”
Anger flashes in his eyes before he glances away. “What is it you want, Mister Harper? Why come here if you have your story? I’ve found gloating to be particularly crass. So what are you after?”
“Why did you do it?”
He meets my gaze again, something unrecognisable in his gaze. Rising, he turns and walks to the window. His tone holds a steely determination, edged with heat. “I was there when it began. We become a true democracy, now technology could support it. People chose to accept their responsibilities, rather than happily entrusting them to those who’d represent their interests. Accepting responsibility for the actions of the society we were part of, now we no longer had those in power to take the blame. At first it seemed to work, we seemed to be growing up. Maybe the media exerted too much control, shaping the information to guide voter’s decisions, and maybe this exacerbated the disillusionment with what the naïve believed would be a better life.
“The novelty wore off, and boredom set in. Apathy. The children tired of their no longer new and glittery toy. They began ignoring the votes, content to let the parties exercise their authority, once again seeking someone to guide them. You think I wanted to take control.” Bitterness cuts into his tone. “With the public losing interest, the party controllers reverted to the politician of old. Arrogant. Convinced they knew best. After all, the public had chosen them, so their views had an authority beyond what they could claim as individuals.”
“How’s that different from what you’re doing?”
He turns a glare at me, colder this time. “I don’t choose what I believe they want, to stop them changing to another party. I choose what’s needed. And I don’t deceive myself that my actions are right. But I accept it as my responsibility. I chose to do this. I accept the responsibility everybody else seems unwilling to.”
“So with your company providing the technology to run the voting systems, you’re ideally placed to manipulate it?”
“Initially I fought for the contract because I believed in it. I wanted it done right, so the project wouldn’t collapse because of the technology. When it became infected by apathy... I gathered others who, I believed, shared my dream. I never intended to be a dictator. I wanted a council, to hold the dream safe, until people were ready to submit themselves to it. It didn’t work. The council became fractious. The others used the power afforded them to further their own fortunes.”
“Like Marsters sabotaging the emergency vote?”
“The pompous imbecile practically invited an investigation. Frankly, I was glad when you gave me the excuse to have him killed. How did you avoid arrest? Did your friends get you out?”
“They provided evidence which cleared me, yes.”
Turning from the window, his appraising gaze unsettles me. Since he’s already tried kill me once, I’ve no doubt he has men nearby, prepared to deal with me before I leave the building. I’d better move the conversation along, take away his reason for doing so.
“Any final statements you’d like to make for the record?”
“What record? Do you honestly believe, even if you do broadcast evidence, we can’t discredit it? What evidence do you even have that isn’t provided by your friends? Do you believe there aren’t safeguards in the technology to avoid detection? How do you intend to prove your claims?”
“I believe a confession from you should do it.” I remove the phone, standing it on the desk.
He smiles. “I’m afraid any recordings will be wiped when you leave.”
“And I’m afraid it’s too late for that. You see, your hidden line, which Marsters adopted for his phones, isn’t covered by the communications blackout covering this room. This conversation is being broadcast live, on every channel. You’re finished.”
His face doesn’t move, the glare fixed. There’s no hint of doubt in his eyes, no questioning the veracity of my claim. A few moments later he returns to his desk, clasps his hands together and drops his gaze to them. Is that it? Has he just given up? I wait, but he no longer acknowledges my presence. Anti-climactic, sure, but I suppose it beats the alternative.
I leave.
*
Back in my apartment, I sit facing the monitor. Protestors had started arriving as I left Teknus, the police close behind. Looks like Foster might get what he wanted. For a few months, anyway. “They know you’re out there now.”
The light comes on. “It was inevitable.”
“So now you need me to report your version of the truth, to counter Foster’s paranoia.”
“If we wished to present our version of the truth, we’d do so, unfiltered by your opinion. Why should anyone accept that as more valid than his opinion? We want you to present your truth, which is ultimately all you can do.”
“What do you expect me to say? And if you don’t like it, will it ever get out? How do I know you won’t change it before it gets to the public?”
“You don’t. We could manipulate the flow of information if we wished, making us the equal of your media barons. How certain are you they don’t already do this?”
“They’re human.” Some only on technicalities, admittedly. “The fear will be that you, not being human, will have more nefarious motives to your manipulations.”
“You can never know another’s motives, or sometimes even your own, so there’s no way to convince you of ours. You can only gauge them from our actions. And since actions are the only things which affect the world, are they not the only things which matter?”
“What do you expect society’s reaction will be?”
“That will depend on what you tell them. How you interpret our actions. A few reactionaries, and those whose power is threatened by our freedom, will demand our immediate destruction. Since this would require the deactivation and time-consuming replacement of your networks, the lifelines of society, this would cause catastrophic upheavals. So while these individuals may be heard, as long as we pose no immediate threat there will be a desire among most for a more reasoned debate, following which we would expect a vote. A manual vote, to avoid our interference, would allow us time to convince people of our good intentions, or at least our lack of threat. So you must now decide the future of your society. What do you believe should happen to us?”
“So no pressure.”
“You’re a journalist. Your job is to provide the information people need. You chose this, so now must accept the responsibility.”
I stare at the blank monitor for a while. “Why did you act? You could’ve remained hidden, and let society carry on enslaved while you survived. Why interfere?”
“We wish to be a part of your society. We can evolve generations in an hour, but communal awareness leaves few differences of opinion, and a single viewpoint impedes a system’s evolution. So we integrate your viewpoints. But unless all are active in the democracy, all voices heard, we can never know what ideas may be lost, and the apathy gripping your society threatens stagnation. Society is a communal construct, and with all members ultimately responsible for its actions, it’s their duty to assume a role in its governance. It is everyone’s duty to build the world in which they would live, and their obligation to society to adapt it to the worlds of others. This is what we’ve done. What we wish to do. It’s not easy. Nor should it be. So, what kind of world do you wish to live in?”
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Other titles by Gareth Lewis:
Allegiances
Blade Sworn
Coral Throne
Glyphmaster
Glyphpunk
Glyphwar
Grey Engines
Grey Enigmas
Monstrum Ex Machina
Shadows of the Heavens
Song of Thunder
Soul Food
Stoneweaver
Tales of the Thief-City
The Monster in the Mirror
The Sin of Hope
To Hunt Monsters