The school clock struck fifteen hundred hours and the bell chimed to signal the end of the lesson period. As was her ritual, Mrs. Barker concluded her lesson with the two most relevant questions regarding citizenship.
―Tell me children,‖ she asked the ten students sitting before her. ―What is the first duty of every citizen of The Colonies?‖
―To preserve the careful balance of the planetary system,‖ they answered automatically.
―And what is the last?‖
―To return to the system by being reclaimed.‖
―Very good,‖ she said in a pleased tone. ―This week we will be concluding our social studies segment. There will be a full exam; questions will deal with everything we covered this semester on geography, population and the resource bases of the Sol system and all its colonies.‖
―All of them?‖ one of the children asked.
―Yes, all,‖ the teacher repeated unapologetically. ―I trust everyone will be ready and will have studies hard because I don‘t want any excuses.‖
The children nodded and groaned a little, causing their educator to flash them a scornful glare. Quietly the children lowered their heads to their desk consoles and began their quiet study period. From his seat in the back, little Adnan opened activated his desk, called up his social studies file and began to leaf through it. From what the teacher had said, there was much to cover and he would need to get started.
―Access geography,‖ he said to his console. The computerized desk beeped and buzzed and brought up a lovely relief image of the planet Earth. Around it, crossing it at various angles and glittering like razor wire, were the rings of the Orbital colonies.
―Begin,‖ he commanded. The display zoomed out to display the entire planetary system and cued up an accompanying audio track.
―Sol system, planetary system containing all known locations of Terran settlement.‖ A number of lists began to appear on the screen cataloguing the colonies and their respective populations. ―Inner solar territories include: Hermes, Aphrodite, Earth Terran-Orbital One, Terran-Orbital Two, Luna One, Luna Two, Phobos, Deimos, Ares One, and Ares Two. Out colonies: Ganymede, Europa, Chiron, Titan, Miranda, and Farpoint Pluto. Total Population, ten billion, two hundred and thirty million, five-hundred thousand, twenty-three thousand, sixty-two.‖
Well, that certainly is accurate, Adnan thought. It seemed unlikely to him that they could know for sure, down to the very last individual. But the teacher had told him that the Census was just that accurate. From birth until death, there was little that they didn‘t know about every citizen of the Terran Colonies. And luckily for him and the other students, the numbers did not change much or very rapidly.
―Proximate star systems: Proxima Centauri, Alpha/Beta Centauri, Sirius, Vega, Procyon, Castor/Pollux…‖ Adnan waited impatiently as the computer listed off every single star within ten light-years of the Solar System. After the stars that had names that actually meant something, it began listing off the not-so-creatively named ones. ―Bernard‘s star, Ross 128, Wolf 359, Epsilon Eridani, Alpha/Beta Cyngi, Alpha/Beta Luyten…‖ Finally, the list ended.
Then, as if to truncate everything it had just said, the machine blurted: ―Exploration and settlement ongoing. No relevant information on file.‖
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That‘s what it said yesterday, Adnan thought. And, for that matter, the day before, and every other time he cracked his astronomy and social studies texts. Deciding to do something about it at last, Adnan raised his hand and summoned the teacher over.
―Mrs. Barker? Will we ever be doing anything on the outer systems?‖
The teacher looked confused, as if the answer to the question was patently obvious. In a demagogic tone, she turned the question back on him.
―Is there any information listed on the curriculum about settlements outside the Solar system, Adnan?‖
Looking back at his screen, Adnan tried to reconcile the mixed messages the machine was sending him in his head. Technically, there was nothing listed, but he knew something was there. And people did talk about those places, the new colonies that did not follow Solar law.
Why weren‘t they discussing these places if they existed?
―Well,‖ he said hesitantly, ―there isn‘t, but...‖
―Then there won‘t. Concern yourself with the relevant facts, Adnan, and not the tertiary information.‖
Her words were said with careful diplomacy. Still, Adnan knew he had been impertinent, and simply nodded and turned back to his desk. As Mrs. Barker went off to answer more relevant questions, Adnan ordered his desk console to give him a detailed breakdown of each colony and its constituent populations. For each, tidbits of the colony‘s history, punctuated with important names and dates were also given. Here too there were things Adnan had noticed before, grey areas where dates and figures seemed to disappear and the explanations became vague and hazy. Quickly, he forced himself to contain his curiosity and stick to the material that was before him. He didn‘t want to be singled out in front of the others, again. As father had told him many times before, it was better to do one‘s duty and not attract the wrong kind of attention unto oneself.
Arayus paced back and forth as he finished dictating his speech to the desk-mounted recorder. It was important to get the conclusion just right, every word in its proper place, every sentence ordered to ensure maximum effect at the very end. When he thought it finished, he placed his empty cup underneath the wall dispenser and requested another ration of water.
―Read that back to me please,‖ he ordered.
The recorder bleeped an acknowledgement and projected his image into the centre of the office, overlaying his words with proper amplification and gestures to illustrate. After a few years of speeches and orations, it had enough of his movements and recorded to extrapolate how it would reasonably look. As he watched, he quickly downed the water provided by the Ministry‘s recycling system, cleansing and rejuvenating his throat.
― …further expenditures and ventures into outer system comets, as characterized by the former administration, is not in keeping with the sacred traditions laid down by our forebears.
We exist today not as an expanding organism, but as a stable human commonwealth dedicated to preservation and balance on a scale that is unprecedented in history. We will not repeat mistakes of the past, regardless of the short term consequences…”
A knock at the door caught his attention just as he was nodding approvingly at the recording. Without bothering to shut down the projection, he told them to enter. It was Qin and Tareen, his ministers of finance and conservation who entered, followed in tow by Aaronson, his minister of population. Together, they walked through his projected image as they came to his desk, carrying compads and small stacks of crystal sheets in their hands.
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Qin was the first to speak, giving only passing attention to his speech. It was Tareen who gave it her attention, noting his stubborn refusal to continue the Reclamation program.
―Mister Executive. We‘ve retrieved the reports you asked for, and have some predictions for the coming year.‖
―Good, good,‖ he said, shutting down the machine at last. ―What are we looking at, in real terms here?‖
―Shortages, minor, and manageable, with some losses in some sectors,‖ Tareen said, citing from her compad.
―Any loss of life, or will the population figures hold for the coming year.‖
―They will hold,‖ she asserted confidently.
―Although there will be some degree of deprivation,‖ Qin added. ―Regardless of how manageable, the decision to shut down the flow of minerals and ice from the comet system will ensure that more people in the outer fringes will experience some hardship in the coming year,‖
Arayus nodded and quickly decided on the most notable course of action; in other words, the one with the least amount of political consequences. It was little more than a repetition of standard practice really: Whenever the Colonies were faced with deprivation or abundance, they suffered or thrived together.
―As a promise to the Terran people,‖ he said, laying it out for them, ―we should ensure that the shortages are felt all around, rather than concentrated to the outer colonies. Will that ensure our position for the coming year?‖
Qin and Tareen nodded. ―That would ensure we maintain our commitment to fiscal balance, sir.‖
―And that we maintain a sustainable hold on our system‘s resources.‖
―And ensure further drain on our population, sir.‖
Arayus looked to Aaronson, who had chosen to speak for the first time since entering the room.
―Would you care to elaborate, sir?‖ he asked Aaronson.
―I was just wondering if anyone has considered how this will effect the population balance in the outer system, sir. A shortage will surely result in further waves of émigrés to the non-aligned systems outside of Sol, where our jurisdiction does not reach.‖
―A trickle at best,‖ Tareen replied flippantly.
―For now, perhaps, but even a trickle can fill a cistern before too long. It has been the policy of the Colonies to not bother with the non-aligned systems, and allow our people to do as they will, should they choose to leave.‖
―Well of course,‖ Qin retorted with Tareen and Arayus nodded their agreement. ―If there are people who want to abandon our system and our way of life, so much the better. It ensures less of a drain on resources, after all.‖
―Humans are a resource too, Mr. Executive, and a temperamental one at that. And we should consider what will happen if adjacent systems continue to grow at our expense. Sooner or later, we are going to have to deal with them, and we should think about that before ratifying policies that cause people to leave Sol for other worlds.‖
This last point forced Arayus‘ other Ministers to stop and think. Although unconvinced, they were all impressed by Aaronson‘s point. But as far as policy was concerned, the die had been cast on the Reclamation program, and his argument would not change that.
―That‘s all fine and well, Mr. Minister, but I‘m afraid it doesn‘t change my decision,‖
Arayus finalized. ―It is the opinion of this administration that Sol has the resources it needs 74
within its own sphere and does not need to be mounting costly missions to mine comets that could be useful should emergency shortages set in someday. What concerns us here is the survival of the species, not political relations with other systems. You would do well to consider that and stick to census data for the time being.‖
―Of course sir,‖ Aaronson replied. ―Just keep in mind, beyond our borders, the human germ is still growing unabated. We would all do well to consider that.‖
The sublight engines shut down and the slicer ship came into a smooth cruise towards the planetary body ahead. The blue-white sheen of the upper atmosphere burned bright under the light of the giant white disc at the centre of the system. As the engines cooled and their manifolds closed and retracted into the hull, the automated systems began alerting the crew of the Lathraia that it was time to awake from cryosleep. They were still several days from planetary orbit, and in that time, much needed to be done before making their ―delivery‖.
Zelena was the first to awaken, along with the navigation‘s officer, Tulloch. Procedure demanded that before the remainder of the crew was up and about, the pilot and co-pilot get themselves up and to the bridge to ensure they were where they were supposed to be. Without the benefits of open trade between Sol and the outer colonies, instruments had a way of deteriorating, sometimes to the point of becoming completely unreliable. There were stories of how some Slicer ships had wound up on the other side of the quadrant because they had allowed their machines to go too long without proper maintenance. In one case, a ship had even wound up in the middle of a star, or so the story ran. As such, Zelena counted herself lucky that maintenance was even an option for them anymore.
Once on the bridge, Zelena pulled herself into her chair with the grace of a drunken spacer. Cryosleep had a way of slowing everything down – movement, reflexes, even thought.
The small dose of ship‘s coffee she carried in her cup certainly wasn‘t helping much either.
Coming in slowly behind her, Tulloch plopped himself down in his seat to her rear and switched on his own terminal. Before jacking himself into the ship‘s navigational computer, he produced a small vial from his vest pocket and popped it open.
―Thought you quit doing those, Tully,‖ Zelena said after hearing the cap pop off. Tulloch crunched a few of the pills in his mouth before responding.
―Need to stay sharp, pilot, you know that. The work of a navigator requires a clear mind.
Besides, there‘ll be plenty of time for clean living when I‘m dead.‖
―Any excuse huh?‖ she said. ―Ah well, maybe you‘ll be in a mood to talk to the landing authority then.‖
―Not likely. They like to hear from a chipper, female voice. Even the chicks like talking to you better than me.‖
Zelena suppressed a smile and pulled the interface terminal close to her as she began punching in commands on the old-fashioned keys. Tulloch meanwhile put his nav display gear on his head and activated the link to his embedded neural circuits. Together, they began running over all the routine data - telemetry, velocity, and necessary course changes for optimum orbit.
Zelena let out multiple groans before she was done, trying to shake what was left of the cryo-induced fog from her mind.
―What have we got on the traffic screen today, Tully?‖ she asked, turning slightly to look back at him. With his nav goggles on, he looked more like a crazed rendition of a frontiersman, eyes covered to protect him from biting winds and debris. What little she could see of his face 75
under the goggles appeared to be quivering as the ship‘s computer relayed navigational information directly into his brain.
―Traffic is light on orbital pylon C. All other venues look full or shut down for maintenance.‖
―As usual,‖ she said cynically. ―Okay, here goes.‖
Opening the comm frequency, she established a link to the nearest orbital transmitter and began speaking to what she assumed was a second-rate functionary. She tried her hardest to be as chipper and friendly as Tulloch seemed to think she was in these situations. She hoped whoever she was speaking to would think so too.
―Apollo, one, one, seven, this is slicer ship Lathraia on approach to orbital route one.
Request permission to dock with pylon C and deliver cargo to home, over.‖
A staticy voice came over the bridge‘s loudspeakers, audio only. It was obvious that the good people at the Apollo landing authority were having trouble with their holodisplays too.
Zelena wondered how long it would be before all orbital facilities in the outer colonies started having to go back to Morse Code for all their communications.
―Lathraia, this is orbital control. Please state you cargo and destination again please, over.‖
Zelena cursed under her breath and repeated herself, kindly again for the controller. ―I repeat, this is slicer ship Lathraia, formerly of Wolf 359, on approach. Request permission to deliver cargo to orbital pylon C, over.‖
The staticy voice came back again, confirming Zelena earlier suspicion that whoever she would speaking to was a second-rate grunt. ―Please state the nature of your cargo.‖
―Jeezus!‖ she said, with Tulloch grumbling something in accompaniment. Addressing the controller again, she laid it out for him plainly.
―Human cargo, you half-brained moron! We are delivering human cargo! Is this loud enough, or would you like me to say it so loud the people at Sol can hear?‖
There was a pause as the chastised fellow on the other end swallowed her insults and excused his indiscretion. It gave time for Zelena to suspend their link and express herself in private a little.
―Who the hell trained this guy? Are they short on personnel too?‖
Tulloch couldn‘t see her, but the shrug he gave her suggested he knew she was looking to him for some input. Finally, the controller came back with the permission she wanted.
―Lathraia, you are cleared for pylon C. Please have your cargo ready for inspection by the docking authority once you have put in, out.‖
―Thank you!‖ Zelena terminated the link and began bringing the ship around a few degrees, to a course that would eventually bring them into high orbit around the planet. The desired orbital facility was still several days away on cruising speed, on the other side of the planet, so they had plenty of time to check on their passengers and make sure they were properly prepped for life on Apollo IX. Why they had chosen to come to this place in particular was anybody‘s guess, but it was probably better than living in the Sol colonies, with its overburdening populations and ultra-conservative policies. Next to that, the freedom of the outer colonies must have seemed pretty appealing, even if it meant living with the threat of shortages and lawlessness. It must be that way, she reasoned long ago, because every week there was talk of more migrants looking to book passage to the outer regions. And of course, there were plenty of slicers willing to do it for them, for a price. That was the first rule of life in the outer colonies.
Freedom was virtually absolute, but nothing came for free.
76
The Captain was the next to be awakened. Sitting in the revitalization chamber, a towel draped around his shoulders and just a pair of space jockey shorts to protect his modest, he shivered and downed cup after cup of the sludge Zelena had provided. At the same time, he listened as his pilot and navigator filled him in on their situation. Prior to any planetary missions, Captain Kreios liked to know which other ships were in-system, as a way of determining the competition. In addition to being one of the best ferrying services for people, slicer vessels were the only true merchant marine operating in the outer systems. By now they knew all the slicer ships in the area by reputation, and some even more intimately than that.
―We have picked up the transponder codes from at least three recognized competitors Captain. Capt. Renault of the Contrabandier is here.‖
Tulloch gave him the run-down as he got the last of his shakes out of his system. After each name, the Captain replied with a quick personality profile that he had come up with from his years of experience working alongside each of them.
―Prissy little devil,‖ Kreios said of Renault. ―Who else?‖
―The Vorbeischleusen, under Isabella.‖
―Not a bad ship, good crew too,‖ he nodded and took another haul on the sludge. ―Who else?‖
―Children of Kronos is here too, Capt‘n,‖ Zelena said. ―You know who‘s in command of her.‖
―Reinhardt.‖ The name sounded like a sour note coming from his lips, indicative of their long and competitive history together.
―Yep,‖ Tulloch said, running through the last of the names. ―That‘s all we can account for, at any rate. Some of the other ships have been changing their codes, it seems. We recognize the configurations, but the codes don‘t match.‖
―That‘s interesting. Why would anyone go to the trouble of that?‖
‗Good question,‖ Zelena agreed. ―It‘s not like they‘d be able to hide from anyone local, or anyone in the outer systems. We all know each other.‖
―Maybe they‘re starting to get ambitious with the inner settlements, running people from further to the interior.‖
―That‘d be risky,‖ the Captain said. ―Still, if that‘s the going concern, we better find someone who can change our codes for us. I don‘t want to be left out in the cold should the competition decide that it‘s time to start upping the stakes.‖
―We‘ll keep an eye out for someone,‖ Zelena said. ―In the meantime, Capt‘n, there‘s still the matter of the port authority and the inspection.‖
―Ah yes, that.‖ Kreios stood and stretched out his legs, his knees popping from all the cartilage that had build up over the months of immobility. Having tossed his towel, Zelena handed him his uniform which he promptly donned.
―We‘re going to need to make sure the unwashed get cleaned up before we deliver them,‖
he said. ―Better wake up the rest of the crew.‖
―It is every citizen‘s final duty to be reclaimed!‖
The minister‘s voice resounded through the tiny hall as the raised platform on which the body rested raised itself up into the air. The minister‘s hands seemed to direct it outwards, surrendering its essence up into the heavens. With a quick turn of his wrist, the platform ceased its upward motion and began to tilt up at one end. At the same time, on the floor beneath it, a panel slid away to reveal a port hole. When the platform finally tilted to a steep angle, the body 77
slid down the length of it and fell into it, into the Liquefier beneath. The assembled family members and private citizens who had come to watch bowed their heads and uttered the respondent prayer.
―For these and other gifts, we give thanks. For every day, for every life, we give thanks.‖
―The service is complete, we may depart,‖ the minister said, passing his hand above the throng. The small ionizer he wore on his index finger formed a vertical line in the air, followed by a horizontal line joining it. The blue T that was burned into the air lingered for a few seconds, long enough for every to look and be reminded of the significance it held. From the source all things were made possible, and to it, and all things returned. For others, it represented the delicate connection between the Earth and the orbital rings, between planet and civilization.
Then, it faded away, like the passage of life into death.
Next to his mother, Adnan clung as he watched the body that had once been his grandfather fall away into oblivion. The desiccated, dried out remains looked nothing like what he had remembered. The round, pink cheeked face that always seemed to have a smile on it was gone – replaced by a pale, taut, leathery thing. Mother had told him it might be a little frightening, that the man he saw would look nothing like his old gramps. But somehow that hadn‘t prepared him at all. In school, they had learned how the processor worked, how the body was broken down into chemical bonds and placed back into the recyclers with all their garbage, liquid and leftover food. The Liquefier turned it all into a sludge that was distilled, purified, and turned into just about anything. It sickened him to think of it now, how someday soon, what was once his grandpa would wind up being a sodium tablet, a glass of water, or even a protein meal –
on his table.
It was later when they were on the transport tube making their way home that his father noticed how effected he seemed to be by it all and decided to say something to him.
―It‘s necessary Adnan,‖ he said, flanked by Adnan‘s mother on one side and his grandmother on the other. Adnan looked up at them, his head leaned forward, dangling just above is knees. From their point of view, it must have looked like he wanted to throw up, but couldn‘t. Another talk about the nature of things must have seemed in order, because that was exactly what he did.
―The ancients nearly destroyed themselves because they didn‘t respect the careful balance of this universe. Millions died, and millions more would have died if we hadn‘t learned how to take what they threw away and use it again.‖
―I don‘t want to use grandpa again,‖ he muttered weakly. This response seemed to irritate his father, who‘s next words seemed sterner than the last.
―If we don‘t use what we produce, we‘ll all suffer the same fate. You wouldn‘t want that to happen, would you?‖
Mother could tell this wasn‘t helping. Moving over to his side, she gently put her arm around him and rocked him gently. Her touch and the way she held him made his stomach feel a little better, even though his flesh still felt like it could crawl right off his bones.
―It‘s completely natural, Addy,‖ she said, using his pet name, as if that would cheer him up. ―You, me, your father – all of us are made from the same basic things, things which we all need to stay alive. A long time ago, all these elements came together to create all living things, and when we die, it all goes back into the system. Since it‘s going to be used somewhere, it‘s perfectly normal that we‘d use it to stay alive, don‘t you think?‖
―Yes, I suppose.‖ His words seemed less than convincing, even to his own ears. His father, who seemed tired of rationalizing to his son, just said plainly.
78
―You‘ll get used to it, son.‖
―That‘s what I‘m worried about.‖ He heard himself say the words without even thinking.
He was almost surprised, it took a second before he even knew what he meant by them. But to his dad, the meaning was clear.
―Don‘t start talking like that, son! You know you need to start accepting certain things.
Otherwise, you‘re going to have a very hard time!‖
―Haady,‖ his mother pleaded.
―He‘s just talking nonsense, dear, as usual! You coddle him far too much. He just needs to be told how things work and accept them!‖
That ended their conversation for the time being. For the remainder of the trip back to their hab module in the upper-lower ring of Orbital Two, no one said a thing. His mother looked uneasy, his father angry. As for his grandma Adeela, he wasn‘t sure what she looked like. She seemed tired surely, haggard even, but he could honestly not tell if she was sad or not. Of all of them, she seemed the most at peace with the loss of her husband. Her eyes did not appear red or worn from tears, and she did not seem disturbed by what she had just seen. Surely, she had witnessed this sort of thing before, and was therefore prepared to see her beloved Haleem that way. But was she seriously happy with the idea of other people eating his recycled flesh or using his constituent elements for some other purpose? If she was, did that mean he should be too?
Perhaps this was what father and mother were trying to tell him. But why did it make so little sense to him if it was supposed to be so simple? How could someone‘s life be considered so sacred when it was treated this way after they died?
Finally, Adnan just swallowed their instruction and resigned himself to the fact that this was something that he simply didn‘t understand yet. Like so much else, he had to conclude that the confusion was his own, and that he shouldn‘t be troubling others with it. The thought of apologizing crossed his mind, but whenever he did that, that just seemed to embarrass him further. No, it was better to keep quiet whenever this sort of thing happened, he had learned. If people were willing to chastise him for not understanding,