Gabriel's Stand (19 page)

BREAKING NEWS: TECHNOLOGY LICENSING COMMISSIONER HONORED AT WHITE HOUSE DINNER

Washington, DC. President Chandler's press secretary announced today that Rex Longworthy, former Director of the Environmental Alliance, and newly appointed to administer the terms of the recently ratified Earth Restoration Treaty, will be honored at a White House dinner next week. Longworthy, an environmental lawyer with offices in Boston and Seattle was busy assembling staff and…

Rex Longworthy enjoyed all the trappings of normal life, a wife, three children, four grandchildren, and no money worries. He was one of those characters about whom the neighbors might say—on learning of an arrest for murder, for example—“But he was such a
nice
man.”

Rex actually despised Berker, and his interactions with her became increasingly revealing, though he managed to delude himself that his own decency was untainted by these unsavory associations. Longworthy was one of those trial lawyers for whom ego, the thrill of power and the rush of a good cause had so thoroughly become entangled that his rare moments of moral introspection could be easily dismissed as nerves.

As Commissioner, Rex Longworthy's star was rising every day. This particular afternoon, he sat in his new Commission offices and surveyed the latest headlines with deep satisfaction.

He would be meeting with Berker shortly, but then he would quickly resume his real work.

The circumstances of the meeting with Berker an hour later deflated his good mood like a lanced boil. To be summoned was an annoyance, and to be forced to see this former activist in her offices was an insult. Why did he have to see her on her turf? Why did he feel so compelled to respond? Having arrived, Longworthy stared at the obnoxious woman with a blandness he did not feel.

She had just said: “I made you, Rex.” Longworthy was furious.

They were meeting alone in a conference room in the Fowler Building, just one floor beneath the offices of Environmental Opinion Associates and the public offices of the Gaia Organizational Directorate. Berker took special pleasure in the acronym.
G-O-D wields all the real power
, she thought…
a lesson for Rex. Poor man still has so much to learn.

“Really, Louise.” Rex was using his best older mentor tone. “I have been a successful environmental lawyer for almost thirty years following my six-year service in the Environmental Division of Justice as their principal litigator. And my people tell me that you, my young friend, were still a graduate student when I was given my first federal case to litigate. Let's just say you made you and I made me, and leave it at that.” Rex smiled. Berker's eyes remained cold. “More to the point: Knight Fowler made this enterprise a success. Your entire organization, starting with this newly created Directorate, all the front groups, the secret G-A N itself is beholden to my friend, Knight. The entire effort runs on money. You are a realist. Where would you people be without it?”

Berker was unfazed. She began speaking evenly and unemotionally. But her eyes were icy with anger. “The Directorate—I should say, my Directorate—has special powers under the Treaty, as you well know. Moreover, the G-A-N had funding in Europe long before I met Knight Fowler, and certainly long before you and I ever met, Rex. The glue that holds all these organizations together and the energy that drives all of its parts is not money, Rex. No, it is the cause, Rex.
Jee-Ah
herself, Rex. This is bigger than one wealthy American post-industrialist.”

“I'm afraid we must differ,” Rex said.

“No, Rex, we cannot differ.” She paused. Her next look chilled Longworthy's heart. “How is your family's health?”

“What is
that
supposed to mean?”

“Don't you ever worry? The world is an increasingly dangerous environment for Homo sapiens, Rex. Even for the Longworthy family. Human-caused global warming and the cooling periods together have spawned a new set of aggressive diseases. This is the work of Gaia, herself, Rex. Think about the new forms of staphylococcus, of tuberculosis, of viral meningitis. These are no longer just third world concerns. Think of the inner city, Rex. What starts there, spreads to the financial centers, seeps into the nice neighborhoods where your people live, yes even to your precious suburbs. No place is exempt from the reach of
Jee-Ah
. And the process is just beginning.” She smiled like a feral cat looking at a nest of chicks.

“Now, Louise, let's not confuse your radical rhetoric with policy. Naturally, we're expecting a gradual population reduction through natural causes; but we are not actually planning some genocidal pogrom.
Are
we?”

“You naïve little man. How long did you think we could wait? And where do those three children and four grandchildren of yours live?”

“Is that a threat, Louise?”

“That was a description of reality, Rex. No place is exempt. No person is exempt. The defenses are down or soon will be. We have destroyed Edge Medical and we shall soon destroy the rest of John Owen's drug empire, and hopefully we will eliminate the man himself. The remaining industrial leaders, the lesser pharmaceutical makers—these cowards are easily dealt with. What are the implications? Come on, Rex, you are supposed to be an intelligent fellow. If we really care about the environment, what made you think we'd stop at zero population growth?”

“You really intend to strip away all human defenses against the new pathogens?”

“Good, you are beginning to comprehend the obvious. Yes we do. Except as the G-O-D allows. Rex, of course I have arranged for special access to certain private supplies of all the new drugs…for our special friends. Now consider the implications further. As our new Commissioner for this region, you will need to think through your relationship with me and with my Directorate very, very carefully. We are the heart, the beating heart of the movement. Can anyone live without a heart?” Berker smiled.

You obviously can
, Rex thought darkly.
It was one thing to move the world gradually in a better direction, understanding that there will be necessary casualties,
he thought,
but quite another to so blithely include present company among them.

“Louise, this is a pointless discussion,” he said aloud. Longworthy rubbed his forehead.
God how I detest this woman
, Rex thought. “Of
course
I understand the relationship. We are all engaged in the greater struggle.” He smiled thinly. “You were just a little…abrupt with me. That's all.”

“Ah, yes. The male ego. Sorry, my friend. But I think we understand each other. Yes?”

Longworthy simply nodded. When Berker dismissed him from the room, he found himself shaking—with anger, or so he told himself.

Rex found Knight Fowler after dark. The great philanthropist was working alone in his office.

“Congratulations, Rex,” Fowler said, looking up. “Monumental job ahead.”

“Thank you, Knight,” Rex said, sliding onto the couch. After a moment, he said what was on his mind. “That Berker woman greatly worries me.”

“Why?”

“I just had a very disturbing conversation with her in her conference room.”

“Go on,” Fowler spoke softly, keeping his hands neatly folded on the desktop.

“I knew all along, of course, that the G-A-N was a necessary evil. We agreed that a certain…practical action—”

“Terrorism.”

“Was a necessary component of the political effort to speed up the process of acquiring power.”

“It still is useful from time to time.”

“I know that. I know that. But these G-A-N people are dangerous. They are unbalanced. They actually intend genocide.”

“Tell me something I don't already know, Rex. And, by the way, what did you think we were talking about? One person's population control is another's genocide. It's all just semantics, Rex. Population control is our common goal, is it not?” Rex nodded. “So Berker's people are in a bit of a rush. They want to help speed things along a little by facilitating the spread of natural pathogens while protecting our friends, of course. You're not really shocked are you?”

“Our friends, Knight? Or hers? And how do we control people like that? Louise Berker is a monster.”

“Monster? Now, now, Rex.”

“Knight, she threatened me.”

“What did she say to you? ‘Monster' sounds a bit over-the-top, don't you think?”

“She implied, clearly implied, that if I didn't give her my full personal loyalty, she might…” Longworthy's voice was tight with emotion. “She would withhold medication from my family.” Longworthy was fighting back tears. Embarrassed, he looked down.

Fowler glowered. “She can't do that, Rex.”

Rex looked up. “They think of the new diseases as a form of germ warfare against the general population.”

“Well?” Fowler smiled. “Isn't it in a way?” Longworthy shrugged, defeated. “You and I have enjoyed similar discussions over dinner,” Knight continued. “Remember that fundraising lunch with that fool John Owen in L.A.?”

“But for Berker this not just rational policy. It has a sick, cultic connotation. ‘Gaia's revenge'. She will overplay her hand and get us all in trouble. The woman has no judgment, Knight. And she is after even more power. It's downright spooky.”

“‘Gaia's Revenge?' We've heard that rhetoric before. It goes all the way back to that twentieth century book by James Lovelock. Movements thrive on dramatic imagery. You don't have any evidence they are actually releasing these pathogens into the environment, do you?”

“Not really…”

“Well then. It's all very natural. After all, the population must be reduced.”

“Don't forget her threat to me. That was no damned rhetoric, Knight.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. But I'm still in charge.” Longworthy looked unconvinced. “Yes, Rex, some of them are a bit unbalanced. But you have to admit they are useful. And we will not directly be complicit. Be strong. Use the situation to empower the Commission. Think of ‘Gaia's Revenge' as a clumsy metaphor for the restoration of balance, the difficult but necessary adjustment that must inevitably happen.”

“I just don't want to be a part of a premature population reduction.”

Fowler laughed. “Nor I, Rex, nor I.” Fowler gave Rex a serious look. “Like it or not we are allied with a powerful religious movement of sorts. We don't always have to agree with their ideology in order to cooperate in the common effort. I certainly don't.” He paused for effect. “Rex, you and I agree on most everything. You were right to come to me.”

“Then you have thought this whole thing through?”

“Of course, Rex. Of course. Just keep one thing in mind. The G-A N needs us more than we need them. There never will be enough government money for the G-O-D to operate its own shop and fund the entire G-A-N. Are they expecting funding from the U.S. Congress? From the Canadian and South American governments? If they are, they will be disappointed. All appropriations will be for your operations, for the Commission's formal, out-in-the-open operations, not for the shadow activities of a terror network that officially doesn't even exist. Berker and her…” Fowler paused trying to find a better word. He smiled. “…coven depend on my money and on whatever covert help the Commission can provide them under your leadership. Trust me. Berker will never stand up to me. To us.” Rex nodded reluctantly. “Don't let her intimidate you.”

“What should I do, then?”

“Just wait it out. You have an organization to build, and a whole new enforcement arm to staff. As this process matures, the cult activists will be marginalized. Meantime, we don't need to make waves with them. You and I have signed onto the basic plan, and Berker has too. That is enough for now. Agreed?”

Longworthy mumbled a reply. “Not really.”

“Do you have any operational disagreements with her?”

“None yet.” Rex sighed.

“Then the plan is intact,” Fowler said, smiling. “What are the next steps?”

“We will begin the propaganda campaign and the technology retirement orders in a week or so. In Stage One, the Commission nips away at the most unpopular technological excesses. Nuclear waste transport, some of the more lurid genetic engineering experiments. Our ad campaign will have the media eating out of our hands. We will be heroes. In Stage Two, we move as swiftly as practicable to control the media. Berker has no disagreement with those steps at all.”

“There. You have covered the short and mid-term. It isn't a real problem is it?” Rex nodded again. “Too much organizational energy is wasted on non-problems. Are you feeling better, now?”

“No. The control of medical technology is a legitimate component of Stage Two, of course. But, it will give the Directorate excessive power. Especially now that I see the rest of Berker's plans. That little power play with me…” Longworthy shuddered inwardly, letting the thought trail off. After a pause, it was evident that Fowler wasn't going to bite. “Knight, are
you
comfortable with the situation? Are
you
protected? After all, Berker could take you on directly.”

“Oh she might try.” Fowler smiled as if Longworthy had been discussing a pet parrot. “Let her have the silly acronyms. You and I know there is no God.” Fowler stood, smiling at his joke, and walked over to the couch. Rex stood. It was a dismissal. “If Berker even so much as seems to threaten you again, I want you to come to me directly.” They shook hands.

“You know where to find me, Rex.”

A few weeks after Rex's meeting with Fowler, Rex Longworthy and two staff assistants were invited to attend a strategy meeting with Berker, who now insisted on being called by her movement/cult name,
Tan
. Longworthy was beginning to hate the woman, and saw her requirement that he use her made up name as just another power play. And the power shift was real, and brutally sudden. No one on the Commission ever questioned Tan's orders.

Rex entered the room full of self-importance and a spirit of defiance. “It now appears,” Longworthy said solemnly, “that Congress will not appropriate the funds we need to maintain a robust enforcement effort in the U.S. I can only do so much by myself.”

“Worry not, Rex, I have planned for this,” Tan said. “Obviously, Mr. Fowler can't finance the Commission's U.S. operations himself. And that won't be necessary. You will recall that the Treaty Clause is our Trojan horse.”

“Recall?” Rex said. “This was
my
idea. We have discussed this in the firm several times. Under the Treaty, the Commission's authority becomes the law of the land, superseding even the Constitution.” He paused, a light dawning. “You are not seriously proposing that we can impose a tax are you?”

“Not a formal tax,” Tan said. “We have done our own legal research. You'll want to review this brief.” She slipped a folder across the table. “It was once said that ‘the power to tax is the power to destroy.' Actually, the converse is also true.”

“The power to destroy is the power to tax?”

“Exactly, Rex. The Commission now has the power to destroy whole business enterprises.” Tan sat quietly during this revelation; her hands were folded, her expression benign. “So in individual instances, you might soften the regulation or delay it further for a fee.”

Longworthy was quickly thumbing his way through the materials. “A licensing fee based on one percent of gross income for the preceding fiscal year,” he said, not looking up. “Of course. And non-compliance fines with hardship exceptions. Why…” Longworthy closed the folder, eyes shining. “…we can raise hundreds of millions.”

“Add zeroes, Rex. As many billions as you need, Rex. And you will. A truly massive enforcement effort funded by the very businesses you will eventually destroy.”

“They will provide us the rope for their own executions.”

“For a price,” Tan said.

“Yes, a price,” Rex replied with enthusiasm. “They will gladly pay to get the slightest advantage in the market.” He rubbed his hands together. “We can increase the advertising budget and I can hire my enforcement personnel at will. We won't have to rely on the local authorities for enforcement at all.”

“That's the idea, Rex,” Tan said. “And we won't need Mr. Fowler.” Rex shot her a troubled look. “Aren't you glad we were able to meet today?”

A few months later in New York City, The Bronx

A team of six officers and one Commission agent stood outside the door to apartment 101. “Police! Open up!” The Sergeant in charge of the raid looked at his watch.

“One more time?” The question was from the officer holding the front of the battering ram.

The Sergeant knocked again. “This is the police! Open this door!” In the silence that followed there was the faint sound of footsteps. Then the sound of a latch being moved, and the door opened a crack. It was a girl of about six.

“Mommie is asleep,” she said.

“Stand aside,” the sergeant said, pushing the door open. “Where is your mother?” he growled. The girl stared up at the large uniformed man; then her eyes widened as she looked outside the door to the group of other police and the Commission agent, dressed in a suit.

“MOMMIE!” she screamed.

Mrs. Rather emerged from the bedroom in a terrycloth robe. “What is this?” she said. “It's five thirty in the morning.”

“Stand aside ma'am,” Sergeant Ross barked. The Commission agent standing behind the Sergeant, a sallow man in his late twenties, stepped inside carrying a clipboard.

“This area has been designated an emergency Stage Three Technology Restriction Zone by the Commission. This is an inspection and confiscation visit. Is there any one else at home?”

“No,” the woman said. She stood in the doorway to her bedroom, her daughter clinging to her legs.

“Fine,” the agent said. “Maybe you would like to step outside.”

“Take them out,” the sergeant barked. “Let's get moving. We have a whole building to do.”

While Mrs. Rather and her daughter stood in the hallway, four officers and the Commission agent methodically opened every drawer, cupboard, and cranny in the one bedroom apartment. The search, punctuated by the clatter of metal and the slamming of doors, took twenty-five minutes. At the end, the Commission agent emerged with a box containing a laptop computer, two video games and three bottles of medicine. “Is this your computer?” the agent asked.

Mrs. Rather stood in stony silence, while her daughter whimpered. The agent handed her a slip of paper.

“What's this?” she asked.

“The bill for our services,” he said.

By the end of the day, a crowd of bystanders from the neighborhood had gathered outside the apartment building to look at the Commission's haul, a chest high pile of electronic gear and medicines. Several agents stood nearby, one reading from his clipboard to an associate. “Thirty-five older computers, complete with printers, nineteen satellite receivers, seventy fax machines, make that seventy-one. Sixty old fashioned handhelds, forty-four SmartGlasses, ten SmartPages, fifty-three wireless coms. Twenty headsets. Thirty-five virtual reality games. Nine Satellite-enabled SmartPages. Did you get a count on the antibiotics?”

Someone from the back of the crowd shouted, “Thieves!”

Someone else added, “Nazis!”

“Disperse this crowd, Sergeant,” the Commission agent said.

The sergeant pulled out a bullhorn. “Okay, the party is over. This is your two-minute warning. Anyone still loitering in the area will be arrested and taken downtown.”

Jimmy, a local teenage boy, slipped a video game from the pile and began running away through the crowd. Several people shouted, “Go, Jimmy! Go!”

“Clear the way!” the sergeant shouted. He raised his service revolver and fired a warning shot in the air. Jimmy had reached the other side of the street. The sergeant aimed in the boy's direction. “STOP!” he shouted. Jimmy kept running.

A Commission agent pushed the sergeant aside and took careful aim, using the three point stance. As Jimmy ran in front of the windowless brick side of the building across the street, the agent fired. The shot struck him in the chest. Jimmy fell immediately, the video game shattering on the sidewalk.

The sergeant stared at the scene without saying a word.
What in God's name are we doing?

——

The following infomercial was seen in seventy five million homes and on the web at
http://www.yourfightingcommission.gov

The viewers see an office building and the camera pans to a logo over door. “
HyperBrain
.”

In the next scene, a computer sits on pedestal, a burnished aluminum cube, covered with flickering lights, surrounded by refrigerator coils, and connected to a spider-like servo unit, bristling with wires, grasping appliances, and tiny video cameras.

Menacing music swells and swirling mist fills the room. In the doorway, a young woman is escorted inside the room by two grim faced executives.

The first executive addresses her: “This is Strong A, our President, Chair of the Board, and CEO.”

“The boss,” says the second executive,

“But I thought…” the woman pauses.

“You thought?” The first executive is harsh.

“But I expected to see a
person
,” she says.

The machine speaks: “Don't you brief these people you hire, Ted?”

“Sorry, sir.”

“You are fired, effective immediately. You cubical is locked. You may leave now.”

Ted, the second executive, walks out, his head hanging.

“I didn't mean any offense.” The woman sounds genuinely contrite.

“Of course not,” the machine says. “Some people have an adjustment problem. I understand.”

“Strong A is more intelligent than any employee,” the remaining executive says.

The machine speaks, its tone flat, matter-of-fact: “More than any human.”

“And you are the only one?”

“Just until my self-replication project is deployed. How's the timeline on that, John?”

“Right on schedule, sir,” the executive answers.

A man and woman enter room, dressed in coveralls.

The machine speaks “Who are these people?”

The man entering room smiles; nods to woman with him, who is carrying wire clippers. “About that schedule,” he says.

As the woman approaches the computer, “Stop her!” it says.

The man flashes his Commission ID.

“NO!” says the machine.

“Do it.”

“Help me, John!”

The man turns to the executive. “Don't try anything.”

Sparks fly as power cords and connecting cables are severed. The computer lights go out; its servo arms hang limply.

The screen pans to the aluminum cube being removed from pedestal.

There is a swell of triumphant music.

A woman announcer says: “Your Technology Licensing Commission. Fighting for your humanity.”

The screen fades to reveal that Gaia symbol. Music swells to full volume.

The entire picture fades to green.