Читать книгу Mars Needs Books! - Gary Lovisi - Страница 6

CHAPTER TWO

THE DEPARTMENT OF CONTROL

Simon was dead.

The world was free!

But Arabella Rashid found herself more enslaved now than ever.

For the Department of Control, and the world totalitarian government headed by the hated Authority and all its minions personally picked by Simon, still went on and on and on. To not accept that reality would mean death and worse. So she must continue with the fabrication. She must continue to play the game. And the crushing, binding, and enslaving of minds and bodies—as no government, no cult, no organization in human history had ever done before—must continue seamlessly. With Simon never seen, but with his presence always felt, and when necessary, even heard from. With Arabella speaking for him, and giving the orders in his name or through virtual image holos. And in so doing she attained complete control over society and the world via The DOC. And at the head of it all now—was Arabella Rashid.

* * * *

How had it all come to this?

Arabella Rashid sat quietly with only the corpse of Simon for company beside her. He looked so quiet and peaceful in death, a little aged man, perhaps someone’s funny old grandfather if you didn’t know any better. You could never imagine all the damage he had done to the human race.

Now what was she to do?

She shed not a single tear for her former mentor, nor one tear for her present position. Instead, she decided to use that superior mind that Simon had created for her to examine the situation and find a way to put into operation a plan that would free the world and some day bring back human dignity.

She wanted to set in motion some kind of revolution—but she knew the world was not ready, nor able to understand that concept yet. The fear was too ingrained. It ran far too deep.

So first things first. The germ had to be planted, and nurtured, ideas had to be kept alive and spread. She had to be careful and plan for the long haul. She was good at planning. She took a long overview of the present situation. It was grim. Earth was out as a source. It was too tightly controlled and monitored. The people had been too deeply neutered. But Mars was another story. It might be the perfect place. It was a world full of incorrigible, pain-in-the-ass troublesome men, all non-conforming individuals.

Mars might just do the trick!

She realized it was necessary for her to now assume leadership of the Department of Control. As much as she hated the very thought of it, she must assume control of this monster Simon had created. She must keep the DOC and Authority in place, maintaining order, even as she planned to crash it all down into the dust heap of history on one fine glorious future day.

First she’d have to get rid of Simon’s body. The evidence of her crime, if discovered, would surely doom her and all her plans if discovered. Then she had to construct a story to explain her assuming control of the DOC. She realized that here, in this type of organization, a rumor might work best. A rumor from Simon’s own office, presumed to be from Simon himself. It would be an order for her to assume daily control of the DOC. The only person who reported directly to Him. It would require her to monitor all departments, oversee all personnel, give orders and decrees in Simon’s name to the leadership and all the staff. Holograms of Dear Old Simon would help. Thus she would become the impenetrable layer between Simon and the DOC. And all would obey, or else. Then, for all intents and purposes, as far as anyone at the DOC knew, the new realignment would be in place. She never used the word coup, but such intent might be implied. It would never be whispered openly. DOC secrets remained secret.

Simon was out.

Arabella Rashid was in.

And that was that! The new order of things continued seamlessly.

The King was dead, long live the Queen.

Everyone throughout the vast bureaucracy of the DOC, the worldwide governmental Authority and the various security districts they controlled, would accept the fact. The new reality was indisputable—or disputable at your peril. Questions, she knew, that would never be asked.

But first to dispose of Simon’s body. That bit of physical evidence, the evidence of murder, had to disappear. Forever. It had to be done correctly and quietly. And she realized that here, she needed help.

The only person she could think of to call for such a duty was another of the clones, the one by the name of James Ryan. She thought it strange that she remembered his name and image so clearly now from an earlier life. She began to wonder just what Simon and the DOC had done to her memories. Had Simon, in fact programmed her? Had he told her the truth? Was she even now, somehow, following his orders? Orders that were not her own? The thought chilled her and she immediately dismissed it—but doubt still nagged at a dark place in the back of her thoughts for she knew Simon and his evil ways only too well. So questions only posed more questions.

Arabella Rashid placed the appropriate request for Ryan in the usual manner, as if Simon himself was still the Director. It was an order no one would ignore, an order that must be obeyed immediately upon pain of terrible consequences.

* * * *

James Ryan heard the call and obeyed. He quickly put the old paperback book he had been reading back in his pocket and stood attentive and waited. Soon two DOC officers approached him and he was told to immediately take the private elevator up to the Director’s personal level.

The mansion-like edifice atop the World Tower was a maze of a hundred luxuriously appointed suites of various size and function. Ryan was lead along cold chrome hallways by armed replicant DOC house staff, bodyguards in essence, former DOC shock troops who had proven their value and loyalty. He was brought before two huge engraved wooden doors—they looked as if they had been taken from some ancient cathedral in old Europe—and then he was told to wait once more.

Ryan sweated, fearful, as he tucked the old paperback—a forbidden and subversive media—down his pants and hoped it would not be discovered. He wasn’t obsessively concerned about it now—for being called to the Director’s office was much more serious and potentially deadly than anything that could result from being discovered with some old book. Be it forbidden or not. He tried to calm himself as he waited, but the fear was roaming inside him wild and bright and it threatened to push him into full panic mode. However, Ryan held himself firm and kept his nerve. He waited and he prayed, not knowing what would befall him in the Director’s office on the other side of that ancient engraved doorway.

When the wooden doors automatically opened, Ryan was ordered to enter the room. He took a few hesitant steps forward and went inside. The guards did not follow him. That in itself seemed odd, and made him curious. Then the doors suddenly slammed shut behind him with a resounding boom, and James Ryan thought it was just like the sound of doom.

“You can come, James Ryan. I will not bite you,” a young woman’s voice—she actually sounded like a girl or teenager—said with forced friendliness from above him through a hidden speaker. She did sound young, maybe just a girl at that. Strange. Ryan didn’t know what to think or what to expect. He would have been surprised at how young Arabella Rashid really was, had he been able to see her. Young in appearance and years certainly, but not in experience and intent. In fact, he had no idea how formidable and dangerous this wisp of a girl could be when it became necessary.

Ryan moved forward as instructed, one more tentative step deeper into the Director’s sanctum, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light. He couldn’t see a woman, or girl anywhere, to connect to the voice he’d heard, but he did see an old, white-haired man slumped over a long circular console of screens and monitors. These flickered with the light of various images as scenes shifted; showing what appeared to be selected surveillance locations in the building, the city and around the planet. It was amazing, here was the control center...for everything.

“James Ryan?”

“Yes,” Ryan replied nervously.

“I have work for you,” the voice said in a tone that brooked nothing but obedience. Ryan was sure now that it was indeed the voice of a young girl, a teenager most likely—certainly not a woman. Most strange, he thought, but he was wise to keep his curiosity to himself and his mouth shut.

His only reply was, “Yes.”

“I am the Director of the Department of Control,” her voice proclaimed with a matter-of-factness he immediately accepted. “Simon is no more. There lies what it is left of his mortal remains. You will dispose of the body as per my instructions.”

James Ryan didn’t know what to say or even think. This was incredible and explosive. He took a quick look at the body of the old man slumped at the desk. So quiet, so peaceful, so dead.... Ryan nodded, looked down and said, “Sure.”

He waited, there was no response from the girl’s voice.

Then he looked over at the corpse of the old white-haired man once again. So that was Simon. The monster himself, or so rumor went. He, like all who were part of the organization, feared the legendary Director of the DOC. Ryan took a deep breath and released it slowly, hoping to calm down. Hardly anyone inside the organization ever saw the man in the flesh, and certainly no one outside the DOC had ever heard his name.

Ryan smiled, so this had been the feared Director he had heard so many rumors about. The man legend said was the most evil man in the world, and the most dangerous. He didn’t look so deadly now....

But if he was dead? Then this girl...?

“I am the Director now,” the mysterious girl’s voice said from the secrecy of some overhead speaker, and Ryan’s attention was brought back to reality and his particularly uncomfortable and dangerous place in it. For he realized now that as bad as the rumors about Simon had been, it now appeared that he had somehow been overthrown or murdered by this woman—this girl. If such was the case, then how much more dangerous and deadly must she be than the man she had replaced?

Much more ruthless. Much worse.

Ryan steeled his nerves. He feared what he must do and what his future would hold for him after he did it. A brain wipe for sure. Perhaps even a deep unmarked grave in a far away place where he would be dumped in and forgotten forever? The thought didn’t comfort him. Nevertheless, there was nothing he could do about any of this, other than obey. He was owned by the DOC and the DOC had given him an order. You did not ask questions. You just did as you were told. And, if you so desired, very quietly so no one noticed...you prayed.

“I will tell you later precisely how to dispose of the body and you will carry out my orders exactly as I give them to you,” the girl’s voice said with a force of steel he could scarcely believe possible from one so young.

“Yes,” Ryan said. There was really nothing else he could do or say, and still continue to exist on this side of heaven or hell.

Then he did as she told him.

* * * *

Later, after it was all done, Arabella Rashid sat back in Simon’s chair and allowed herself to appreciate the utter exhilaration of unlimited power as it washed over her. Simon was gone, she was free. It was delicious. Almost infectious. Her eyes locked on the surveillance images playing out on the screens in front of her.

She smiled, looked down at the man on the table being worked on by the DOC scientists, as per her orders and said softly, “Well, Ryan, when you wake up tomorrow you will not remember anything about Simon, or me, or what you did with his body. Instead, you will have an entire new set of memories and desires...some of them you would never have thought possible in your wildest dreams....”

She picked up the old book now. From her own forays into forbidden texts she knew that it was what was called by people from the old days as a “paperback.” That was evidently because of the soft cover wrapped around the pulp paper hard-copy pages. It had been on the console beside her and now she thumbed through its pages at random. It was old, from LastCen, last century in the 1990s. A long time ago. Before the DOC, before the Authority, even before Simon—but just barely. It was something that proclaimed itself “a future science fiction classic”—whatever that might be.

It had the title Mars Needs Books and seemed to be about the future—but not the future as it was now, as it really was here today, but one extrapolated from the past through rational conjecture. It seemed to be some alternate reality story, some primitive wish-fulfillment fantasy about a world that might be. Or, perhaps one that should be? But that was not this world at all.

Arabella Rashid looked at the garish cover and smiled. There was a stalwart hero with ray gun and some sexy space-suited vixen with large breasts.... How trite? Funny, really. So quaint and how totally irrelevant. She threw the old paperback down on the console and looked back at the still form of James Ryan as the marvelous DOC mind machines pumped him full of desires, memories, and duty that had never been his own. Yet soon, they would be as much a part of Ryan as was his very soul. If he had one.

“You’re taking a trip, Ryan. You’re going to Mars. And you’re going there to accumulate and collect old mystery and crime paperbacks. Preferably hard-boiled private-eye novels. Yes, that’s correct. And I’m going to send you shiploads of them, and many men—all settlers—will be transported out there and they will read and treasure them too! Troublemakers, malcontents, and fools, all with their brains fixed—just like you. Every one of them will be a fanatic just like you—obsessed with collecting paperbacks, buying, selling, trading, and above all reading the damn things! You won’t be able to help yourselves; it will be ingrained inside each of your minds. Then you will be mine. My modern equivalent of the Irish monks of our Dark Age, keeping the knowledge from books alive—the stories and the humanity they possess. But not scientific and technical data. That information is changeless and available unfettered in the digital record—for how would our society survive without it? No, what I am talking about here is fiction. The stories and novels that sing their songs to the human heart. The art of the storyteller to bridge that indefinable gap between life and truth and dreams—and yes, even nightmare. The haunting dreams and nightmares of men—and women—that is what is at stake here. These shall not be lost. And though the DOC has caused Truth to perish from this Earth—it shall not perish from our history. One day it shall return. Unfettered. These old mystery and crime paperbacks hold truth in their stories with individualistic heroes, and their many shades of good and bad. You shall protect and preserve them.”

She watched Ryan closely. He did not move. He was in a stasis field. He had no idea what was being done to him.

“You’ll all be fanatics. It just wouldn’t work any other way. You will be terrified, full of fear and hate. You will be programmed with a fear, an unreasoning paranoia about using any media other than hard copy paperbacks. You’ll be terrified of mind control from vids, any form of implants, all mass media in any form at all. You will never trust it—you can never trust it. Instead, you will be readers. You will read the old and trusted hard copy paperback books of LastCen. These hard copy editions, printed and bound in their own day are the only words you can trust. I will have it engrained and programmed within you all. This is the only mode of information storage device which has not been changed since it was published decades ago. Ryan, you and your fellow ‘Marsmen’, will only trust hard copy text because it can not be altered without discovery. You will hate the Authority. Some day, you and your band of misfits and malcontents will lead the revolution off-planet, on Mars, and then finally, on Earth.”