Chapter Five: Dead Reckoning — Part 3

Earth’s Remorse

After centuries of abuse, Earth began to die. Its soil could no longer grow the food needed to keep the masses alive. Its air, long since degraded, had become stagnant, hopeless. Those who lived on it were seeking martyrs for sacrifice, and civil war, along with starvation, began to decimate the human population. If not for food from the colonized worlds, all of Earth’s people might have been starved into extinction. The martyrs were many, chosen both for their obvious opposition to the conforming, tyrannical, and self-destructive Cynosure, but also for their intelligence. Intelligence, after all, had been all but bred out of the lowest classes, the ones calling for martyrs to begin with. Not all of the martyrs were undeserving of their fates, but most were innocent people who had unique solutions to problems that the Cynosure had been orchestrating for over a century. The Cynosure wanted a famine, the Cynosure wanted war. Earth’s dying throes fueled these dark ambitions

Three such sacrifices stood ready to die, before a Council of Nine whose job it was to determine how best to facilitate the executions. Unlike those who had gone before them, these three would not go begging, or pleading, or even with quiet resolve. Three spotlights focused on the persecuted, twelve brighter spotlights focused on a Council, and three slightly red and dimmer spotlights were focused on court guards. Nothing else was visible. Tabletops could be seen, as could faces, but the rest of the room was a dark mystery.

The three up for slaughter were scientists, smart enough to come up with solutions to the Cynosure’s social problems — smart enough to create the social change necessary to feed the masses, and to shrink the masses. They were too smart, in fact, to receive even the imitation of a fair trial granted to those who might still be expected to serve the Cynosure in some lesser role. These three could not be broken.

The tallest of them, a sinuous man with no social tact, was keen to observe the elusive, always looking to make the truth obvious for everybody. An idealist to the end, he was the voice box for his friends. His partner, a shorter, lanky man with pale skin and wild hair, was known more for his ability to twist lies into truth, not his own lies, of course, but the lies of those he was bound to. He rarely lied on his own terms. The third, a woman and lover of the second man, stood on trial because she was as smart as the other two, and also because she had punched her supervisor in the groin.

Sweat glistened on the tallest man’s forehead, but the others were cool, almost as if they trusted in the sick, horrid destiny that had allowed them such dangerous intelligence in a world of unparalleled mediocrity. All of their eyes were sullen, baggy and darkened from hours of work in the name of the Cynosure Science Commission, and more recently, from hours of sleep deprivation and interrogation. They were a rare trio, wanting only the best for their world and their people. What made them positively uncommon was their willingness to voice their concerns, even at the cost of their own lives.

“Your disservice to The Authority has cost you dearly, Thomson. You and your colleagues have been found guilty of breaking the laws of the genetic impurity act of 2137 and your current theoretical findings are not in accordance with our demands. You endanger the smooth functioning of this system, and your findings will not be published.”

“You mean, of course, the smooth functioning of a war machine who thinks that if they slaughter enough innocent citizens, they’ll be able to revive the Earth’s already diminished resources.” Devon Thomson said quietly.

When one of several guards looked like he might suddenly wish to break Devon in half, Devon willed himself to remain quiet. Though his work had been on the extreme edge of tolerable science, Devon had figured it was necessary to save lives. How foolish he had been to think that saving lives had ever been the goal of The Authority. Devon hadn’t, honestly, expected such a response as he was receiving now. He bit his lip, trying to keep quiet, fidgeting for the effort. Staring into the blackness, he felt as if the claws of a predator were closing down on his throat. His words like ice, the speaker for The Authority continued.

“Such revolutionary concepts are disturbing, and we are terminating your research rights. As a Class One Citizen, you have two options for this failing. You may either go into cold sleep until such time as we need your services again, or you can go to the Banks for reprogramming. Your colleagues will of course be reassigned to less pressing positions, once they have been reprogrammed.”

“Beaten, you mean.” Devon said. “Don’t mince words, Oh most high and bastardized one. We’re talking about modifying plant genetics here. We’re not focused on human genetics. It’s been done indirectly for centuries and it could save this planet from starvation now. We’re overpopulated, and it takes no amount of genius to see that if something isn’t done about the hunger problem Earth and its colonies face, the entire Cynosure is going crumble. You may think this Cynosure will survive a war. Maybe you were even planning for a war, but you’re dead wrong this time. You’re killing our Earth!”

“Your words and actions are bordering on the treasonous.” The Councilor warned.

Julia, Devon’s official second in command, spoke out sarcastically. “Traitor!” She yelled, pointing angrily at Devon. She turned slowly, letting her finger drop just as slowly, so that it crossed the Councilor’s face before it came back to her side. She stared straight into the High Councilor’s eyes. “You do have a point sir, about him being a traitor straight to the core. I never did trust Thomson and I should’ve known he’d deliberately go against the Cynosure. After all, famine and civil wars, when properly focused, can curb the population and tame it as well. I support genocide, where it’s called for, as the planet needs a good cleansing.”

“That will be enough, Ms. Judith.” The High Councilor snapped.

“Call me Julia, only the people I’d sleep with call me Ms. Judith.” Julia said.

“Ms. Judith, you’re out of line.” Mr. Edal interjected nervously, sounding defensive. Mr. Edal, a high strung man who was much smaller than either of his associates, adjusted his glasses and spoke quietly, but with the confidence of a man knowing that his death would be short in coming. “Totally out of line, yes. War of any kind only increases population growth in any global population. By creating the conditions for a civil war, the High Council is merely trying to counteract the losses we will face to starvation. As for population, famine is the best control the Cynosure could put into action, especially since it is so costly to issue birth control to the general public, and so dangerous to educate them on its proper use.”

“We have birth control, Mr. Edal. All male and female citizens are sterilized after we determine they have produced enough children for the needs of the community.”

“But you don’t issue premarital contraception, which would eliminate the population problems we’re facing right now.” Devon said.

“They can’t do that.” Julia sounded shocked. “If they did, how would they catch underage sex offenders and execute them.”

Mr. Edal clicked his tongue condescendingly, nodding in agreement with Julia’s comments. “But then, where would we get such well trained prostitutes, if not from under-aged sex offenders?”

“You’re both out of line.” Devon said. “Some of the best prostitutes make excellent under-age executions. Don’t either of you watch the inspirational broadcasts?”

“You are all out of line.” The High Councilor stood, slamming his hands down against his desktop.

The sleep was gone from Devon’s eyes, replaced with anger. “And you’re all out of gear. We came up with a simple solution to an age-old problem, a way to buy some time for good old planet Earth, curb the population, and end the suffering of billions of human beings. My colleagues and I care about people, you know, the individual units that make this Cynosure whole. If the people are hungry, they’ll quit working.”

“If they quit working, then the gears stop turning, and the Cynosure stops moving.” Julia added.

“And if the Cynosure comes to a halt, the whole place falls down. You know, like a top that stops spinning.” Devon continued.

“Only when this top stops, we all fall down.” Mr. Edal said.

Julia added her final statement, “And everything goes to pot. Except food, of course, since there really isn’t that much food to put in the pot as it is.”

“Are you three done?” The Councilor’s face had gone from white with shock to red with rage.

“Quite.” Devon crossed his arms, leaning on Julia as if she were a post. Mr. Edal leaned on her from the other side, and the dream team faced down the most dangerous member of the Cynosure as if he were a spoiled child.

“All three of you have made a mockery of this Council and its decisions. You’ve spoken with intent of treason, and have proven yourselves unworthy of your positions within the Cynosure. Your lack of respect for the standards of the Cynosure gives me no choice but to order your immediate termination. You’ll be put into cryostasis, taken to a resource point, and dissolved into your base chemical build up. Your DNA will be investigated for flaws, your tissues for chemical toxicity. Your internal organs and brain matter will be inspected for deformations and imbalances that occurred either from viral exposure, due to your hereditary make-up, or from some unreported injury. And we will ensure that whatever is wrong with you never expresses itself again. This condition has been corrected, next case.”

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