Kalum watched the monitor as the images from the previous day‘s events played across the screen. Although somewhat blurred by all the interference, the essentials came through loud and clear. The bright fires and curls of black smoke were unmistakable against the background of raging bodies. The noises were equally telling: unintelligible, loud, and violent. These were the unmistaken signs of a population gone mad. It was like listening to the crazed noises of caged animals. On the surface, it might have seemed to most like anger was what drove them on. But in his experience, Kalum knew that the prime motivation had to be fear. Anger, although potent, could never move people to act this way. These were a people driven to the brink of insanity by the knowledge that very soon, they were going to die.
Denial was also a very potent motivator. No matter how inevitable the reality of their death was to them, something in the human psyches seemed to be telling them that by turning on each other, they could somehow stave off death for themselves. And into this mess, Kalum and his unit had to be sent.
Taking his position next to the oversized monitor, their chief resumed his briefing and let his words keep pace with the flow of the images.
―We estimate the death toll to be about two-hundred thousand already. As the Ministry anticipated, the mobs appear to be attacking any and all government buildings, be they federal or local. However, the violence for the most part dissipated around civil buildings when the local militia began firing on them. Now, the violence appears to be making its way into the cores of all major urban centres. The people are looking for anything and everything that could contain even trace amounts of water. Our orders are to redeploy to sector 8 where we will be responsible for cordoning off the area and making sure the violence doesn‘t spread back towards ministry or municipal buildings again.‖
The recording ended when a stray object thrown from the crowd took out the camera that was watching them. The monitor went black, and the chief keyed a button that shut down the monitor. The room lights came on, revealing a room of musky, unwashed men and women, their suits having gone days without a wash. Looking around, the chief asked for questions, and immediately some hands went up.
―What‘s our level of authorization, sir?‖ one of them asked.
―We have been authorized to take whatever actions are necessary,‖ the chief answered.
―We need to contain the populace and make sure they do not threaten any government assets, which includes buildings and infrastructure. On the protection list are office buildings, desalination and recycling plants, electronic grids, manufacturing centres, and the rest. We need to protect them by any means necessary.‖
―Have any other units reported losses, sir?‖ another asked.
―Yes, some have. But our estimates say they‘re pretty minor.‖
―Have we been charged with protecting any civilian property, sir?‖ a third queried.
―No,‖ the chief replied plainly. ―Our primary concern is protecting Ministry buildings and anything else deemed necessary for dealing with the situation after this phase passes.
Keeping those intact is our primary concern.‖
There was a moment of silence from the room. All the immediate questions had been asked, insofar as their obligations and powers were concerned. The chief looked around for another few seconds, waiting for any other questions. Before he could dismiss them, Kalum decided to raise his hand and ask the one thing no else thought to.
26
―So is this strictly a crowd control mission, sir?‖
The chief looked somewhat confused by the question. ―What do you mean?‖ he asked.
―Well, sir, it doesn‘t sound like we‘re there to protect property unless its government, and from what I can tell we‘re not going to be distributing water either. Are we just expected to hold the in line in our sector and let the people kill each other?‖
The chief looked around the room as he absorbed the question. Others began to look in his direction warily. Kalum always did have a knack for asking the inappropriate questions, even if they were all thinking the same thing. Licking his lips, the chief looked back in his direction to respond.
―Do you see any excess water packs around here, son?‖ he asked irritably. ―What exactly would we have to give?‖
―Those people are just looking for a glass of water, sir. And the Force has enough for all of its officers. Couldn‘t we spare some?‖
―And exactly who do we give it to, Kalum? They‘re billions of thirsty people out there, and we give water to one of them, the rest are going to want some. What do we do then?
Besides, we‘ve got enough for the people we have and not a drop to spare, and if you doubt that, wait til you see how you feel after a few hours out there. By then, you‘ll be happy you‘ve been given a water pack at all and you won‘t be in the mood to share it. That goes for all of you.
Stick to the orders you‘ve been given and do not try to intervene in the crowds.‖
―Yes, sir,‖ Kalum replied meekly.
―Good, now are there any other questions?‖
Kalum kept his eyes to the floor for the remainder of the briefing. Even as they were dismissed, he thought it better to examine his shoes and not look up at anyone. He‘d brought up a perfectly humane question, and it was shot down completely by cold logic. Somehow that only made the frustration worse. No one liked what they had to do. No one liked the cold logic of it.
But worse was the knowledge that there was no choice in the matter. This was one of those rare situations they had taught about in the academy, where kindness was tantamount to cruelty. The order of the day was to let nature take its course, cold, ruthless, unforgiving nature.
Minutes later, they were in the locker room getting their stuff together. The stink was all the more potent there, where every article of clothing was kept between their sweaty, sweaty shifts. Aside from the smell, Kalum noticed that there was a certain tension that he had never felt before. Him and his unit had performed crowd control missions before, but this time things were much, much different. Today, the general population was the enemy. Kalum couldn‘t say for sure, but he felt they were in agreement with him in that none of them knew exactly how to feel about it. No one was talking about it, that was for sure, which was proof enough that they didn‘t like it one bit.
There was always that feeling of wickedness when it came to controlling people who had legitimate grievances. But this time, it was so much worse.
When news of this first hit, it was like a bombshell. For obvious reasons, it was kept secret for as long as possible. Since then, in spite of the fact that there really wasn‘t time for serious reflection, everyone had found their own way of dealing with it. But somehow Kalum, who had always felt himself to be just a little more sensitive than most, couldn‘t find a way to deal with it. It was as if what they were doing was so bad, yet so necessary, that it was better not to feel anything at all. That appeared to be the only solution, blocking out the feelings instead of 27
trying to make sense of them. Word had it that if you tried to make sense out of something this bad, it would drive you nuts.
After strapping on his flak vest, grabbing his helmet and holstering his sidearm, Kalum made a quick assessment of his most important piece of equipment: his water pack. It was filled to the brim, as per regulations, and airtight. He had been told repeatedly to inspect it, to make absolute sure there was not even the slightest hint of a breach in the casing or the inner seal. Any unwanted loss could mean death down the road. Their water rations had been calculated based on absolute necessity, with only minor losses taken into account. Once they were all set, the unit huddled up in the centre aisle of the locker room to wait for the Lieutenant. The LT, an officer by the name of Michael Cole, was quick to arrive on the scene. Leaning in close with them, he quickly went over the items that the chief had deliberately left out of their briefing. The most delicate information was always best when shared privately, from a more trusted source.
Naturally, it fell to the unit commanders to make sure their troops understood exactly what they had to do once they were out there.
―From where we‘re stationed, our most immediate concern is keeping the mobs from spreading beyond the inner city. We can expect that they will leave us alone, but just in case they don‘t, be sure to remember what the Ministry told us. If we do get into a firefight, remember to conserve ammunition as much as possible. We‘ve got a limited number of bullets so don‘t shoot unless you have to, and if that you have to, shoot only as much as you need to.
Do not fire on the crowd until I authorize you to do so, and make sure to aim for the leaders in the group and not anybody who looks like they might be having second thoughts. The hotheads are the ones you need to worry about. The nervous ones will disperse if you give them an excuse. Target men first, avoid women if you can, and avoid children altogether. The chief says that none were spotted in the crowds, but in my experience, you‘re better off taking that with a grain of salt. If you do see ‗em, don‘t touch them. It‘s bad enough we may have to shoot their parents, don‘t want to have shoot them too.‖
Cole took a deep breath before delivering what he felt was the worst part of it. It was certainly the hardest part for him to say.
―Keep in mind that the bullets you have are armour-piercing specials and they‘re likely to go through more than one person. If you must shoot, try to make sure someone else is behind them. Hit them once, and then pick another target. With luck, they‘ll disperse with a few shots and we won‘t have to worry about them anymore. They‘ll turn around, head back to the inner city, and then… we hold our positions and wait for the fire to burn itself out.
―One last thing,‖ he said, getting to a cheerier note. ―Make sure your ration pack is on your back tight, and make sure they don‘t get at it. If the crowd gets their hands on you, that‘s the first thing they‘ll go for. If they happen to grab it, unstrap it and let them have it, it‘s not worth getting pummelled over. Last, but not least, if we do get overrun, we fall back to the APV,‖ he took one more breath and uttered the last of it, ―and let the machine-gunner do his job.
Everybody understand?‖
The unit nodded sombrely. By this point, there was not a man or woman amongst them who did not fully understand what they were about to do. Without another word, they unholstered their weapons, checked their ammo, and headed for the APV.
―Whatever happens, stay close together, and if you find you‘re having problems, try to think of these things as cordwood.‖
―Cordwood?‖ one of the volunteers asked.
28
―It‘s an old saying, don‘t really know what it means,‖ the foreman replied. ―But trust me, it helps.‖
The volunteers all nodded, even though no really understood. Any help someone could offer with this task of theirs was certainly welcome. The municipality was doing its best to assemble volunteers for clean-up duty, and including David; they had succeeded in getting two hundred people from his sector alone. It was surprising, but then again, David was surprised they were that many people left in his section. Now, not more than a day later, David and six other volunteers were riding in the back of a military vehicle waiting to be dropped in their particular clean up zone. On command the volunteers all snapped on their protective gloves and breathing masks as their transport rumbled its way down the street. Several times they hit a bump in the road and the people in back were thrown a little out of their seats. Eventually they got the bright idea to strap on their safety harnesses. Soon, the rumbling of the engine died down as the vehicle pulled in to a stop. The driver‘s voice then sounded over the intercom.
―We‘re here!‖ it boomed.
Two soldiers stationed at the back grabbed a hold of the doors and gave them a hard push with their shoulders. The doors creaked open and let the harsh light of day in. They then jumped to the ground and ordered everyone else to hop out.
―Go!‖ the foreman yelled from behind them.
Two by two, their feet began to hit the ground. David was one of the last to leave, and as he disembarked, the light momentarily blinded him. After being in the backseat of an all-terrain vehicle with no lights, it was hard stepping out into the light of day. Or at least, what passed for light of day anywhere on Terran-Orbit One. Nevertheless, he did not need to see immediately to get a sense of where they were. The ground was hard and gravel-like beneath his feet, which told him they must have come to a stop on a major road. The smells also told him that something bad must have happened here not long ago. Fires and acrid smoke were not far away, and something else he could not identify.
When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, he was horrified to see how that his senses were right. Everywhere, bodies were strewn about. Those immediately in front of him were intact but punched full of holes. Not too far away, there was a pile that looked like they had been ripped to pieces. Their were charged remains here and there, and spots on the ground where it looked like fires had once been, but had since burned themselves out. But by far, the most overpowering sight was the endless mass of bodies that lay across the road. He could only guess what had happened here. A tangled mob of protesters, and a clash with armed militiamen. The pile was apparently all they had thought to do with some of those they had killed; the rest lay where they had feel after they had been shot. Standing near the pile, the foreman yelled at them to get over there and start moving them first.
There was a loud honk as another vehicle pulled in beside him. David‘s head was a dizzy mess; he realized the driver was honking at him to get out of the way. It was a large box-like truck, with thin slit windows and a big metal frame. He could only surmise that this must be the cargo vehicle, where they were expected to haul the bodies once they‘d rounded them up. Two men jumped from this vehicle, and one began to shout at him. He had a hard time discerning the words, but he guessed he was urging him to do his job. David nodded, and took another look in the direction of the terrible mess.
The others were up ahead, doing as they were told. Putting aside his delirium, David put one foot in front of the other and walked over to the pile. As he neared it, the smell grew worse.
The acrid smell of smoke suddenly had something putrid to it, dead flesh decaying in the sun.
29
―Cordwood…‖ David said to himself, ―cordwood.‖
Slowly, David put his hands on the nearest limb he could find. It was an arm, a bloodied, bruised arm. There were many people piled on top of it. He simply chose this one for some reason. It was in front of him. To his side, a disgusted volunteer was pulling a carcass off the top. It loosened the pile a little and made his grip on the arm a little easier. David gave it a tug.
He felt rewarded when it slid easily towards him, but at the shoulder joint, it was stuck again.
For a moment, he pulled it in different directions, trying to loosen it somehow. Repeatedly he said to himself: “Cordwood, cordwood. Just things. These are just things. Relax.”
David found himself rewarded again when the limb came loose and was pulled all the way out. After the shoulder, it suddenly ended. What looked like exposed bone and flesh hung there, but there was nothing else beyond it. Somewhere in the pile, the rest of the body remained, and wanted its arm.
David dropped the arm and leapt back. His breath became frantic and his head swam again. He could no longer stand, and sunk down to one knee. The foreman saw him and yelled over to him to get past it, to stand back up and try and think of something else. The words were a blur and everything moved in slow motion. His stomach churned and suddenly wretched up everything he had put in it over the last few days. There he lingered for a few moments while he waited for someone to come and console him, but no one came. Everyone else just carried on, and the foreman started yelling at him.
He wasn‘t cut out for this. That was what every bone in his body was telling him at this moment. He had no business being a lucky survivor. He had no business being born in this terrible time. The preselected outlived others, and those that lived had to clear their remains away. He couldn‘t stand it. He wished it were him in that pile. They were the lucky ones, in his estimation.
David sat huddled under the showerhead, trying to get every last drop to where it could do some good. In almost no time at all, the shower ended and a loud buzzer sounded, signalling him to clear out and make room for the next person. He didn‘t want to leave. He wasn‘t nearly clean enough yet. The smell was still in his nostrils, and the filth was still on his skin. The memory of touching those things, and the long ride back with all those unclean people, made him feel horribly dirty. It was as if it went to his bones, and no amount of washing or scrubbing seemed to make it better. Even a clean change of clothes didn‘t improve his mood, although the thought of the others being incinerated seemed to agree with him.
When he was finished and in the front hall of the municipal building, waiting for Sheila to pick him up, he finally began to feel a little better. The memories of the day‘s activities were not far from his mind, he just learned not to think about them as much. For hours, he had been struggling, trying to find someway to feel better about what he saw. Eventually, he found it was better just to not think about it at all. Instead, he tried to look forward to seeing his good friend again. Sheila said they would take it easy once the day was done and they were finished with their volunteer work. Whereas David had been stuck with cleanup, Sheila had been slightly luckier, scoring a job at the mortuary. Neither would be in a good mood once they were done, she predicted. But she claimed they would find something to take their minds off of it. She also let on that she had some liquor stashed in her old desk drawer. No doubt that was her way of dealing with the drudgery of office management. That would certainly come in handy now.
Given the situation, regulations strictly forbid the consumption of diuretics. But right now, getting wasted together felt extremely appropriate. He wondered if she had any smokes stashed 30
away too. Even though neither of them partook of that habit before this mess hit them, he imagined neither of them would be getting through this without a little help from some friendly narcotics.
Sitting impatiently at her desk, Executive Tanya Blair sat and tried to absorb the sad and sober news her advisors had to share with her. Standing around her in a horseshoe pattern, they appeared to be saying the exact same thing. The figures, estimates, and official tallies were all in from the first few days of the emergency rationing program, and not one of them was the slightest bit optimistic. As usual, it seemed the Ministry of Supply had fudged their official estimates. It was a rule that was never broken. Whenever it came time to figure out a budget, they guessed too low. But when they were asked to estimate how long the essentials would last, they guessed too high. Human planners appeared to have a built-in need to hope for the best.
Why they let that influence their planning was beyond her though. At a time like this, realism would have been appreciated. But such thoughts were secondary right now. If they all lived through this crisis, there would be plenty of time to lay blame.
―So what now?‖ she asked her advisors. ―What are our fallback options?‖
―Madame Executive,‖ the tall one nearest her replied, ―we have no fallback plans for this kind of situation. All our plans were based on selective rationing. Now that we know that supplies won‘t last as long as they need to, we need to cut back, plain and simple.‖
―How is that simple?‖ she demanded. ―Are we to go into people‘s homes and tell them
„sorry, but your ration card is no longer any good‟? Or should I send in the troops, have them take away their cards by force? We all know there‘s no way people will surrender those willingly.‖
―Madame,‖ another to her left interjected, ―the sooner we do this, the better. Your right in guessing that they‘re will be resistance, which is why we should move as soon as possible.
And the militia should be noted since they are probably going to have to be called in as soon as possible to handle this.‖
In a flurry, Tanya ran her hands over her messed-up, oily hair. The heat and anger only made her feel dirtier. In that moment, she looked over to Dr. Gowles, who had yet to say anything at all during the briefing. As a special advisor from the Ministry of Supply, he was supposed to be providing insights into the particulars of their rationing program. But so far, he had kept his mouth shut, and she was beginning to doubt if he was of any use at all. During the entire course of the meeting, he sat against the arm of her office divan looking pensive. It was his department that had produced this monumental failure, so it only made sense that they should be doing something about it. A little needling in his general direction felt in order right about now.
―Alright, so its really just a question of who then, isn‘t it?‖ she said in his direction. ―So that means we need to decide who to cut off and how we expect to deal with them once we do.
But this time, I suggest we make sure our estimates are realistic. No more happy projections designed to please people.‖
The horseshoe of advisors all nodded humbly. Gowles did not appear to hear her. She raised her voice a little and made she sure she projected it better.
―I also suggest we take another look at the estimates on how much water we think we can safely produce and recycle for the immediate future, and I want negative projections here again.
I think it‘s fair to say we need some pessimism there too.‖
31
There were some more nods, but no suggestions or challenges. Again, Gowles had nothing to offer, and in her mind, Tanya wrote him off as a lost cause. Nodding to herself, she resigned herself to what had to be done. They had to quickly and quietly decide who was going to die, once again. As if sensing her thoughts, Mr. Ortega, her deputy Executive, tried to offer some words of consolation.
―Madame, we‘ve managed to keep this government safe by appealing to people on the grounds that this was for the good of the race. I think we can do that again. And as long as we‘re successful in the long run, we can rest assured that history will judge us fairly. I think we can all assume that future generations might even thank us someday for every hard decision we‘ve made these last few months.‖
―I‘m not concerned about the judgements of history, Ortega. I‘m more concerned about what our troops are going to have to deal with when they go door to door and try to take ration cards away from people. That is what they‘ll have to do because there‘s no way someone is going to surrender their card willingly. And what‘s going to happen when they go from house to house to collect them? Do you think anyone is going to allow our troops to take cards away from someone‘s wife, husband, father, mother, or child? Of course not, which means our troops are going to have to put more people down, and this time it‘s likely to be entire families! You can play the hindsight card all you like, Antonio! We can all try to defer the morality of this decision and let history judge, but the fact is, if we do this, we‘re monsters. What good is it to survive if you don‘t even deserve to live?‖
―Madame – ‖ he tried again before being cut off.
―Shut up!‖ she ordered, and everyone went dead silent. Nobody dared speak for the next few minutes. Finally, as if something finally set his mind in order, Gowles appeared to mutter something to himself.
―Do you have something to say, Doctor Gowles?‖ Ortega demanded.
―I was just thinking of what you said,‖ he replied coolly. ―It seems to me we have quite a problem on our hands here. Right now, we have a situation where over half the population is raging blindly while the rest try to control them. People are dying by the millions, while at the same time, the survivors are consuming faster than we can supply them.‖
―Yes,‖ Tanya said in an obvious tone. ―In a nutshell.‖
―Well, Madame Executive, every problem has a solution.‖
―What do you mean?‖
―Our plans for supplying water are limited because our only options are to recycle what we have, putting it through endless processes of filtration and desalination, or to manufacture sources of water. Sooner or later, that our recycled stocks will run low because of the simple reality that there are too many pollutants out there. As they accumulate in the water, whatever has already been recycled will become slowly poisoned and inconsumable. The other option, chemically manufacturing it, depends on us being able to bond oxygen gas and hydrogen indefinitely. Here too, we are limited because this requires a steady supply of basic elements, which are also in dwindling supply. The only thing that appears to be in steady supply these days, is dead bodies.‖
―What are you talking about?‖ Antonio asked him.
―I was just thinking,‖ he said, turning his attention to the deputy for just a moment, ―that perhaps a common solution is available here. We just haven‘t taken notice of it yet.‖
Around the room, every advisor began to look at her for to see if she understood. Tanya, for her part, just sat there, caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief. For some reason, 32
her skin began to crawl, and suddenly she felt like she understood the true reason for Mr.
Gowles‘ presence that morning.
―Every problem has a solution, Madame Executive,‖ he said, ―every problem.‖
”After weeks of crackdowns, shortages and mass riots, the situation appears to have finally settled here in T-O One. Although authorities still report sporadic disturbances in the Martian and outer colonies, the Central Ministry has declared the system-wide shortage of water to be over. No official explanation has been given for the sudden upturn in water supplies, but sources have indicated that these new supplies are expected to last almost indefinitely.
Executive Tanya Blair is expected to make a statement in the coming weeks, but for now, the Ministry remains closed for comment. Rationing is expected to continue, but the pass system has been declared null for the time being…”
―Notice how they don‘t mention the body count,‖ Joel Francis said over a tall glass of ice water. Running a rag over the counter, the server, a Mr. Joe Barber, agreed with him.
―Half of reporting the news in knowing what to leave out,‖ he said, coiling up the wet rag and twisting the moisture out of it. ―I doubt they‘ll tell us before they‘re good and ready.‖
―They‘ve got to give us some kind of idea,‖ Joel answered. ―I mean, its not like they killed every single person who died out there. Most of them killed each other or died of exhaustion in the streets.‖
―General public‘s not likely to see it that way,‖