Читать книгу Mars Needs Books! - Gary Lovisi - Страница 5

CHAPTER ONE

SIMON

He went by the name of Simon.

Just, Simon.

But that one name encompassed power unimagined by lesser rulers and despots throughout the history of the old planet called Earth. The few people who mattered all knew the name—and they feared and obeyed. While the vast majority of people who did not matter hardly knew he even existed. To have that knowledge could be a death sentence for them. In a sense, most citizens were lucky in their ignorance, but it is a damned dark way to go through life.

Simon sat back in his chair luxuriating in the sheer ambience of the naked power he possessed and so often wielded, and in what he had become.

Just what had he become?

The man who controlled everyone and everything.

It was that simple.

He was an old man these days, gray hair, but with a body that was still lean, taught, hard. His mind was still sharp and just as merciless as ever. His cruelty was legendary among those who knew of him—for no one actually personally knew him, except one slim slip of a girl. So few on Earth even knew of his existence at all. Nor did anyone know officially of the existence of the organization of which he sat as head—the Department of Control. Unaffectionately known and feared among those in the worldwide government Authority as the DOC. Still and all there were hints galore, crackpot conspiracy theories veiled in fearful whispers in the underground Net about him, and about the DOC, in many dark stories. The people—the citizens—had heard rumors but no one ever spoke of them openly.

If they did, they simply disappeared, never to be heard from again.

It was that easy.

It was that fast.

It was that final.

Simon surveyed the massive expanse before him—looking upon the magnificent vista that was his controlling headquarters and his home. He sat at a long circular desk linked by dozens of high-resolution view screens. Through them he could contact anyone in the world, find out anything he wanted to know. Through his system he was linked to a trillion-power servers that held all the data in the world. Information was power and Simon could access information on any subject he desired instantly, and any person as well.

Of course, this was all connected to dozens of orbital satellite blanketing the Earth and armed with the latest killer lasers guided by pinpoint GPS tracking. Through his system, Simon could locate, lock onto, and destroy any person, anywhere, at any time. It was a neat “toy” and one he used frequently to rid himself and the world of any hint of opposition to his rule. Simon and the DOC never needed to arrest or imprison their enemies; those enemies did literally disappear.

Poof!

Nothing was ever left behind. Then the target was immediately deleted from the digital record, and it was like he or she had never existed at all. It was all so neat and quick, never troublesome.

Simon reveled in it.

Simon’s headquarters—what he had made into his own private world—was surrounded by one-way protect-glass that allowed him a totally secure environment as he kept track of his staff who worked feverishly on the massive workroom floor below. They monitored and put into place his plans. His plans, Simon corrected. He smiled. In this instance it wasn’t a conceit he had stretched too far—though God had been erased from the digital record long ago—Simon felt he was a more than adequate replacement. Simon knew the word His was used to refer to the deity. But He was the deity now. His plans, Simon’s plans, were all that mattered. Simon’s world had no God or devil in it, only Simon.

Simon ably fulfilled all aspects of both.

The DOC originally began by incorporating the old CIA and FBI and later added top secret departments of the fabled NSA and other very Top Secret agencies. After the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, commonly known as 9/11 in what had been the old United States, from last century—or LastCen—DOC evolved and secretly came into existence. Once all security and information agencies were merged under one controlling legal authority, DOC had its impetus. DOC had been a minor governmental office back then ruled under a benign nondescript bureaucrat. Later it was merged with 200,000 other federal government employees into the new Homeland Security Department. The Patriot Act, renewal in 2011 and Patriot Act II, III, and IV in 2016 under President Jackson Taft, expanded its power in all areas. In a few years, as their mandate and reach grew, a new Director named Simon came to power. He took direction over Homeland Security and all such agencies and eventually ran them as his own private domain. J. Edgar Hoover had nothing on this boyo!

Ten years later, though few were watching, and less even noticed, Simon under DOC authorization actually took over day-to-day management of the United States of America. He was not a dictator or even a leader, and he was certainly not President. America still went through the motions of self government. Simon was wise enough to maintain the fiction of electing presidents and even allowing diverse political parties—but he ran the show behind the scene as the head of the DOC. Simon had become the real power behind most transactions and most policies involving government and national security. From then on he only expanded his powers worldwide, growing them exponentially year by year.

Five more years and Simon and the DOC broadened their influence around the world. And few in the know knew it. Less cared, none understood. And certainly no one spoke a word about any of it.

Most informed people around the world living in the system of traditional nation states, saw the DOC as a myth, some crazy urban legend, unknown and not believed by sane people as if it were one of those “out-there” conspiracy theories. The kind of things nuts and the mentally defective drone on about endlessly. A corrupt media shielded citizens from conservative and traditionalists complaints, people who feared the huge concentration of government power and authority, as well as those on the left worried about large concentrations of political power. This was exactly what the DOC wanted. Only this time those last few on the right—and the left—had been right.

But no one really listened.

As the years passed, political leaders and their nations rose and fell, but Simon always remained in control and the DOC rolled on from one success to the other—from one power grab to the ultimate power grab. World-wide domination.

Simon molded the DOC to his will, and the DOC molded Earth and its people to his specifications. Eventually outmoded democratic governments and ineffective nation-states were disbanded and redesigned into the new, more effective, Security Districts. This was to fight international terrorism, enhance trade, make government more responsive to the “people”—now called “citizens”—as everyone was a citizen of Earth—but it was also to better effect tight, concise, effective control.

Eventually the DOC put in place a new planetary government, the worldwide “Authority” that ruled the Earth—for the DOC—and for Simon.

Early on, the move had been a darling of political leftists and socialist internationalists, who simply gushed lovingly over it; the idea had been loosely based on the defunct United Nations—or the Soviet Internationale. The Authority came into existence under the theory of benevolent big government being able to help everyone with their special needs and to ensure their every want.

The Authority became a worldwide totalitarian government dressed up as a smiley-faced super Mommy State, but underneath it could be hard and harsh. It soon became a master with not such a smiley face at all. By then the old nation states were gone, now everyone was a citizen of the world. Equality and utopia had arrived, and no one complained—if they knew what was good for them.

To accomplish this and keep it in place every form of media manipulation, unconscious message implanting, and propaganda was used to control the masses. Psychological control centers and reeducation ‘camps’ were established to get people thinking correctly, so they would cooperate and accept all the good things the Authority was bringing into their lives to make it better.

Utopia had, in fact, arrived!

The goal for the Authority was to keep power and extend power. They did it by controlling the people into absolute obedience.

Control was key.

Control in every form imaginable, and many forms not imaginable.

It had worked better than Simon had ever anticipated.

Yet not all was perfect in His paradise.

There were a few difficult cases that still persisted. They called themselves “individuals” and while they were scorned as uncooperative, inflexible, and troublemakers, even subversives—and when necessary, traitors—they still persisted. They were of course dealt with accordingly. But killing didn’t always work. There was no real satisfaction in it after a point. You can not kill everyone. When one of these so-called individuals was killed, another seemed to be born to take his or her place. Simon realized that something had to be done to breed this taint out of His humanity.

In cases where citizens were merely troublesome, they would be dealt with in a variety of ways. In the early days, some citizens seemingly couldn’t get their fill of protests. They protested everything. After the DOC took control all that nonsense stopped. In cases where protests were organized, or like-minded groups acted, key members would be brought back under control by a variety of means. Sometimes these organizations would just cease to exist. As if they had never been. Often members disappeared altogether. An unusually large number seemingly committed suicide, voluntarily or forcefully. It made little difference. Others awoke to discover they were being arrested for a variety of trumped up crimes they had never committed. It did not matter. They were always convicted. It was even rumored that the worst of these had been shipped out to Mars and the other planetary colonies. All media and educational outlets were used to enforce absolute compliance—technology guaranteed success in a way no other totalitarian government had ever achieved before in human history.

Truth was always the greatest loser, of course. However if you didn’t like the particular truth spouted today, just wait until tomorrow, or the next day and there will be a new version you might like better. But probably not; because the one thing you could always count on is that things will always get worse.

* * * *

Arabella Rashid walked into the room. Her sharp eyes quickly scanning all the images on the screens that glowed in front of Simon’s desk. She looked at him intently, carefully, trying to hide her fear. “I see you’re really going to let them all leave, after all.”

“Yes, we need workers on Mars and some of the outer colony planets,” Simon said quietly.

She used to have an Anglo name, but five years ago she had taken the name of Arabella Radshid. She never told anyone why. Not even Simon. Especially not Simon. She was thirteen years old now and an acknowledged genius. Her IQ was said to be the highest in human history. It had naturally caused her to become noticed by DOC scientists and eventually, Simon Himself. She was being groomed as the Assistant Director of DOC. One of his most special creations.

Like the ancient Roman Emperor Tiberius with his creature and successor Caligula, Simon often said he was nursing a viper for the citizens of Earth!

Arabella Rashid had also been Simon’s mistress for the last five years.

She was only thirteen years old but she had learned much from her mentor.

Her master.

Simon often told her he was big on mentoring, especially with young, often under-age girls. One could hardly call them women, when they still had years to go to attain even their teens.

Arabella had been disgusted by all of it. However, it was all she knew in her short life, even as she hated Simon with a hidden passion that was unquenchable, one as righteous as the old gods of myth. The forbidden gods of her Ancestors. Simon was the only god allowed now.

However, while Simon was a monster in many ways Arabella Rashid didn’t let that bother her, or misdirect her, from her own goals.

Yes, she had her own special goals, even at thirteen.

“You surprise me,” she said softly. “Letting a group of troublemakers get away so easy. They’ll only be a problem for you in the future....”

Simon gave her one of his all-knowing smiles. It wasn’t arrogance; it was power supreme and cruelty incarnate, only tempered by vast knowledge and experience, “My darling, that is the plan. They’ll be a problem—I dare say it, perhaps even a challenge—for us to crush. And thus, their demise will make us even stronger.”

Arabella Rashid nodded. She thought that she understood. The knowledge made her wince. Simon’s devious cunning was as if it had been given birth by Satan himself. She looked at the man closely; an old man now, but her superior in so many ways. He was her mentor in all things, her lover, her master, a monster incarnate she realized. An inner shudder ran through her that she could never express openly.

Of course she’d never been told about the Devil, or even God, nor much of anything that was from any of the old religions, all of which was strictly forbidden. Religion had been relentlessly attacked, degraded, ridiculed, and finally sent away by the government. The government saw it as a threat, a dangerous pluralistic voice to its all-encompassing laws and regulations. All religions, and so much more, had been erased from the culture and society many years before her birth. None of it existed in the digital record, and since that was the only record that mattered....

Even in her special position, she’d seen truth covered by lie upon lie, so she’d had to dig furiously and dangerously for every truth or fact she ever discovered. Nevertheless, if you looked hard and deep enough, it was still possible to uncover truth.

Sometimes.

Some of the ancient information storage devices known as “books” still existed. Antique hard copy texts printed and published many decades past. Of course, most unapproved texts had been expunged years before. Billions of books had been destroyed outright. Gathered up and burned. Now all modes of media were tightly controlled. Obsolete media, such as TV, video, CDs, the Internet, and even the latest full cortex implants and brain inserts—were all heavily edited, corrected, abridged, or changed. The digital record was the approved text for everything these days and it came straight from the DOC through the worldwide government Authority.

It began long ago when they put secret chips in phone devices, computers, even video screens to tell what you were doing, watching, saying—along with your location data. All personal messaging was on file for access by the government too, so there was no privacy even on your most personal devices. All media was interconnected and any government agency that desired the data had access to it.

These days it was called by a special name.

Oneness—one voice, one set of facts, one truth—one way to think and act for everyone.

She hated it.

These days all information and history in the digital record was audited and amended instantaneously. History and facts changed as the DOC decreed. People fell out of favor, or ceased to exist with a keystroke. Yesterday’s hero, might be forced to become today’s suspect, then could become tomorrow’s non-person. At that point he or she would be erased from the digital record and cease to exist. No record would ever be found about them, anywhere, not ever.

But just as “Arabella Rashid” had been born on that dark and terrible day five years ago when she’d taken her new name and new her persona—upon that first rape by Simon—she had known she would fight to win her freedom if it took her a hundred years. She was still a slip of girl but she steeled herself to her new life. She learned, and she grew in power and intelligence. And boldness. Her fear drifted away from her as she planned her revenge on Simon...and upon the world that had betrayed her.

Then she found the old books.

When she found those old books five years ago she naturally began to read them, in secret, for all were forbidden and unapproved. She learned their secrets. She learned their stories and messages. She saw the hidden worlds the words on paper told her about. She felt those words deep in her heart and she was able to see their truth. She knew then that “Dear Simon” now “Dear Old Simon,” her superior, her mentor, and her lover, was the devil incarnate and she began to make her plans.

She smiled lovingly at Simon right now, all the while keeping up the pretext, but he did not return her smile. Did he suspect? That could mean her doom. Strangely, now she did not care. She hated him, hated what he had done to her, and what he had stolen from her. She hated what he had done to the world too. It was the Old World that spoke to her now, the Old World she read about in all those old books. The books told her that the world had been such a wonderful place before Simon and the DOC controlled everything. Well, maybe not exactly wonderful. To be sure, it hadn’t been perfect, there had been severe problems in those old days, but at least people back then had been free to make their own choices. Free to fail, even. More free, she corrected. Today the concept of freedom was dead on Earth, the heart of Man had become blank and empty, the mind of Man closed shut. And that was just the way Simon and the DOC wanted it.

Arabella Rashid was growing older too. In fact, at just thirteen, she felt so old; for she had experienced so much. She had seen too much darkness. Truth be told, she was now also too old for Simon. He preferred his “mistresses”—as if they had any choice at all in what befell them—quite a bit younger. Though no person but she knew this most intimate truth about him. It was, in fact, the most secret of all DOC secrets. She was too old for Simon now. She knew his eyes had already wandered to others. She didn’t regret this at all, she only felt pity and fear for those others. She was determined now that if Simon had in fact destroyed all freedom on Earth, there would be one place where it would not be destroyed.

“Simon?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes, my dear?”

“Will you let me set up Mars? Let me set up the outpost and the colonists. You want it to be a dumping ground for incorrigibles and troublemakers, well I think I could help cleanse our planet of these undesirable elements. Putting them all on Mars is a good idea. Then we can deal with them all later as we like.”

“Easy, Arabella, I have my plans for them. DOC scientists have done endless studies, reports, extrapolated future crisis data from current trends. There is a method to my plan. I ask you, why has every great empire in the history of this world—why have they all eventually fallen?”

She was quiet and did not answer; it had been a rhetorical question, his way to allow her an inner glimpse of his wisdom, knowledge and power.

He told her, “Ancient Egypt and Greece, Rome, Britain, Soviet, American, Red China, it does not matter. The reason they each fell, is that they rotted from within. They lost control. Control is what is important; it is the only factor that can stop this inner decay from occurring in our own time. Total, complete, uncompromising Control. Control over every aspect of life, of thought, of being. Now we have achieved that here on Earth. Complete totalitarian control over every aspect of the human citizen.”

Arabella Rashid acknowledged his truth, “Yes, the Department of Control is the total master.”

“And I am the master of the DOC,” Simon laughed with a sinister power he knew only too well, and held so tightly to his being.

“That is true, Simon,” she said finally.

“So we have achieved total control on Earth. For now. But that is not enough, Arabella.”

“How so?”

“Total control must be achieved for all time—forever. And there lies the rub, my dear. I want myself and the DOC ingrained in this world and its people unto their very soul. To do that our scientists have determined that unless certain challenges present themselves at certain nexus points in our history in the future—all this, all I have built here—will eventually collapse.”

Arabella Rashid felt a brief surge of emotion, actual joy at the prospect, but she camouflaged it well. “So Mars is part of your plan, master?”

She knew he loved it when she called him master.

“Yes, these incorrigibles and troublemakers—men only—they will not be allowed any women to procreate and enlarge their vile numbers—will be set up as a future enemy. An enemy for DOC to destroy and be victorious over. These are to be my straw men, Arabella. Their existence and rebellion will ensure the DOC’s supremacy forever. They will become the great bugaboos of our Earthly citizens, we’ll brainwash all to accept our truths about the men on Mars. They will become the enemy of us all. Feared, hated, despised. And it will work. And because of that, I shall live forever as the master of it all.”

Arabella Rashid stood stoic and silent but within her soul was anger and fear. This man—this monster...so twisted by hate and power.... It was not sane. It could not be done. Nevertheless, she knew the combination of his ultimate power, mighty intellect and relentless drive for conquest made him supremely dangerous. Anything could be possible.

“Are you familiar with the term—the antiquated term these days to be sure, Arabella—of God?” Simon asked softly.

“No, I....”

“Come now, I know you read, even some of the old forbidden hard copy texts. Those paperbound books from a hundred years ago. It would take all day for me to have your brain transcribed and then whipped clean of it all, but then you would loose so much of yourself, so don’t try to play dumb with me, girl!”

“Yes, I am familiar with the term—I mean, the concept of—God.”

Simon smiled divinely and it was horrible to see, “Well, Arabella, I can tell you with all certitude, that I am now God here, young lady. I am the new God of our Earth, a new God to reign forever. Our science has ensured that I shall live forever...as a God....”

Arabella Rashid was stunned and revolted by his arrogant words but she could ill afford to let him see even an inkling of her true feelings. She had played this game for years, had learned it when she’d been so much younger—at the feet of the master.

Instead she smiled sweetly and nodded pleasantly.

“How little you truly know or realize, my child,” Simon added in paternal disdain, now leaning back in his huge chair, all-knowing, all-powerful, laughing all-insolently....

“What?”

“My dear, you have no idea. Our science, our technology, the DOC—we have learned so much from the past. It is all ours for the taking, for the using. Billions of memories, and the manipulation of those memories, facts, all that data—all of it to give us the outcome we want. It really is quite amazing. It is all now in the digital record, just electronic impulses, bytes and bits, nothing more, nothing less. Electronic impulses to be manipulated as we see fit, whether in a machine...or the human brain.”

“Simon, what are you trying to tell me?”

“Hah! That’s why I chose you, among other reasons—so sharp, so inquisitive, so perceptive! And you mean to tell me you really have no idea at all?”

“No idea about what, Simon?”

“Your dreams, child? Why, your very dreams?” he chided her softly.

Arabella Rashid tensed, a chill swept over her soul. It was a more private area than any mere physical place that Simon had already raped and plundered within her years before. Her dreams were sacred, personal, special, even mystical. They were the most secret part of her inner being. They were not for being known to anyone. Especially not by Simon.

“What are you saying?” She held down her panic.

“Come on, girl, don’t tell me you do not even have an inkling. You must. You have the dreams, don’t you?”

“Yes, I have dreams...,” she agreed carefully, softly, fearful of what was coming. What new monstrous device was up Simon’s wicked sleeve?

“Hah! But not just any old dreams, eh, my dear?”

“I don’t know....”

“Did you never suppose...?” Simon asked softly.

“Suppose? Suppose, what?”

“Memory, it was all cloned. See, I know all about you, child, more than you even know about yourself. I searched for you, I found you. I created you.”

“What do you mean, Simon?” she was becoming fearful now, but held herself in check, at the peril of her sanity.

“I bred you, girl. I know you took the name of Arabella Rashid after that night when I first took you, but before that you were....”

“No, don’t say it!” she screamed.

Simon laughed. “Now then, what was your name...?”

“No! Simon, no!”

He laughed heartily, she’d not heard him so happy in years—the vile bastard! He was enjoying every moment of this torture.

“Yes, your name.... Do you remember that little girl? I remember her well.”

Arabella Rashid froze with fear and loathing. She was not that other girl now, that weak girl who had been abused by Simon. She was someone else now. She was Arabella Rashid. Someone stronger, more powerful. Smarter. Different. Like in the book.

She hoped she was. She prayed.

“Yes, her name, dear girl—your name—it was Cathy...Ryan....”

She didn’t say a word.

“Acknowledge it!” Simon demanded loudly, brow-beating his thirteen-year old girl lover/victim as she stood so powerlessly before him.

“Yes,” she answered meekly.

“Well done! You have accepted one basic truth at least, Cathy—Arabella,” Simon said it as if he were twisting a knife into the young girl’s vitals. “Well, anyway, our DOC science has made magnificent achievements. Stunning achievements! Progress, that will be most useful....”

Arabella Rashid tightened up inside but could find no words. She was at Simon’s mercy, she had always been at his mercy.

“You are a clone, child. A clone of that self-same Cathy Ryan who lived way back in the 1950s—far away in last century, You are one of many I have had reconstructed for my own aims. Personal and political. You see, we can not only clone the physical body, but we can delve deep into the inner psyche and soul. We can retrieve and duplicate memories and personality from our special long-ago original stock of people.”

Arabella Rashid was stunned but at this point in her life she was ready to believe any evil that the minds of men like Simon could conceive.

“You and James were the first. Agents, spies, and killers that proved most useful. A matched set. In my opinion, you two were the best as well. Of course there were some others. All amazing early prototypes. Eventually, once the process is perfected for mass production, we’ll be able to bring them back in large numbers—shock troops for the new order. We will create amalgams of the worst of the worst, the Huns, the Old Guard soldiers of Napoleon, KGB killers, the Gestapo and SS. Isn’t that delightful? And of source, we will bring back their leaders as well—the most excellent killers of all time—Adolph Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Mao, Pol Pot, and even Saddam Hussein and those two lovely sons of his. Now those two boys surely died far too young—so much potential so sadly wasted there.”

Arabella didn’t say a word.

Simon nodded, smiled, “Good boys, so young. Terrible to be cut down before they had achieved their full potential. Well, that shall be changed. Corrected!”

Arabella scarcely knew what she was hearing. Was it the ramblings of a mad man? Or the promises of a monster with the will and ability to carry out those promises and make them come true?

“Of course, they shall all rule under me, in my future directorship of the DOC. They will not exist under their original names, but the DNA, their memories and personalities, will all be the same. Exact! My angels, playing the parts—I, as their God—shall decree for them.”

Arabella Rashid knew now that Simon wasn’t just an oppressive ruler, a rapist, and a monster—he was the Devil himself. His once massive mind had deteriorated into madness and an evil deeper than any other human being in the history of the race. He had to be destroyed. Now. This instant. Before he took one more squalid breath of pure sweet air. Simon had to die and Arabella Rashid was the only one who could make it happen.

“It will be glorious,” Simon mused.

“Yes, Simon, it will,” she said, moving closer to him.

“And you shall rule by my side,” he said, with a twisted smile that she knew was false, even mean in its false promise.

But now Arabella Rashid smiled back, as she bent down to kiss Simon’s cheek. She did it with a great gentleness, a warm softness, a delightfulness that she knew Simon felt irresistible. She smiled again at the thought of what she had to do.

Then she did it.