《NOVA INTERIT.US》 Introduction Hello. Here''s some quick info to fill a few gaps and get you going. I''ll be posting a glossary and two other original maps soon. I also want the reader to know that Percival Lowell was a real astronomer, and his quotes that begin each chapter are mostly his own thoughts. I''ve bastardized and reworked his writings for my own purposes. His original prose is 19th century dense verbose bullshit. The observatory center above the town bearing his namesake becomes an unlikely focal point in our story. I''m also publishing some short stories and other ideas in my other section of work here on RR. Some of this will be incorporated into Nova, but most are just random shorts for your pleasure. I''m desperately seeking some feedback and reviews. My ego is churning hard, and I believe this could be an important novel once it''s finished and printed. Yeah I know. Everyone says that. But if you didn''t catch the synopsis, here it is in new form.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. The Back Cover The town and much of the nation are in disarray in 2063. The five families have created a blockchain based water distribution system for the local residents. Everyone must be secretly registered to get their weekly ration code. This secret is hidden from the Global Water Commission and their network of mercenaries and contractors. In the mid-2040''s, after the state secession of Idaho, Montana, and Texas, the Global Water Commissioners made their deals and moved into towns throughout the country, along with their network of contractors. They called it "the integration." The GWC contractors integrated with municipal water departments across the country, using their organized network to invade like parasites on local services. It all coincided with the 29th Amendment to the United States Constitution (which quickly led to the 30th and 31st.) This set of constitutional changes became referred to as the Regional Trident Plan. Nova is a story about survival, power structures, the turning of relationships, and the networking between people and the systems to which they belong. It¡¯s about A.I. blockchain possibility, and its potential for human betterment versus our detriment. It¡¯s about the question of whether or not we need to be saved from ourselves, and by who or what? The Great Event at the end of the first chapter might just be what actually saves us. The epilogue will take place in 2517. This scene is fully sketched and the full arc of the novel is set. I expect to finish Nova Interitus by summer of 2023.
[1.1] Chapter One ~ The Great Event Nova Interit.us

[THE YUNIPTER ENCRYPTIONS]

? ?? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
[RECOUNTED BY DEIMOS WOODHOUSE-ROBERTSON, GRANDSON OF STEVEN ROBERTSON, CAPTURED VIA HOLOSCRIBE IN YEAR 2127. YUNIPTER ENCRYPTION METHOD ? NFT FILE no. <1.1:1.3/03.15.063/D9X4P2>] It happened back in 2063. He found himself face down in the mud, pushed up and lifted his head while choking on silt up his nose and down his throat. He almost threw up. Then, finally a clean inhale. While running, looking back and out of breath he''d just tripped on a huge root, bulging from the earth, exposed by erosion. Now on hands and knees in the wet forest he finds a momentary stillness as the rain got louder, thicker. He heard their dog bark twice in the distance, hard to say how far away. This was a glimpse through the depth of mayhem, like looking through a mind portal and you see something critical. He looked over and saw the dead fallen tree, a hollow shell from years of decomposition. He crawled and rolled under it. They''re not far back now if I can hear that hound through this deluge. I won''t make it further without some rest. He knows this, he feels it in his lungs and throughout his body. The warrant contractors were still tracking him for sure, but he¡¯s a real chance now with the downpour. And with this semi-subterranean compartment? If they tracked off further to his right there¡¯d be no way to see him hiding there. Cold and wet, bathed in mud. Right? No other options now. I¡¯m flipping the coin again. ¡°And here I am, damn it! Chance or fate?¡± He said it out loud, under his breath, still waiting on hope. Moments or minutes later he hears footsteps splashing around on the other side of his hollow hiding spot. The sound is coming from his right. He is still completely hidden. Then, looking out from under his respite, thirty meters through the woods and to his left there¡¯s the other one with a rifle. The man slowed his run to a stealthy walk, panning around with a raised barrel. When he lowered the muzzle and turned, he looked right toward the fallen tree. But over it. The exhausted man on the ground, peering through the storm could see the rifled hunter hold up his arm, shaking an open hand in the air. He paused. Stillness, but the storm got even louder. A quick signal back to his partner with a quick thumbs up, the contractor pointed east in reply. A large Norwegian elk-hound raced past further out behind, and the small pack of three continued on toward the looming hill ahead. They¡¯d lost him. Possibly. Rain can trick an untrained dog. He looked up and around inside his hollow dead shell. Spiders and mold, wet and dripping all over. He¡¯s not the only one hiding in there. And despite the company he felt safe for about three seconds, knowing how ephemeral and false the moment was.
? The traditional name of the feature was Mars Hill. For a brief period it was renamed Musk Mountain. A strange outcropping, it¡¯s a large hill on one side, a steep mesa on the other, and the back third is a gradual slope rolling north. They used to call it Observatory Mesa since the early 1900¡¯s. The man who named it was convinced of a civilization on our neighboring red planet. Percival Lowell moved his entire livelihood from Boston to build his home and observatory there in 1894. Along with his wealth and studies, he also brought strange beliefs and esoteric knowledge from his travels in faraway lands. The area later became an important locale for astronomy, hosting many early discoveries. This was long before any rockets or ships. There was a naval observatory and a few others in the area, an astronomy hub for celestial monitoring and astrogeological research. It''s where they tracked the precession of our equinox, and many other astronomical processes. The exposed remains of historic telescopes are still up there to this day, along with other buildings burned out and decaying like most of the shattered and shuttered town below. Back in the mid-2020¡¯s, the Musk company SpaceX did a lot of astronaut training for the Mars missions around the town. Just like NASA did in the late 1960¡¯s and early 70¡¯s when they prepared for the first moon landings. The terrain is ideal. But NASA weren¡¯t the ones who established the original moon colonies. Supposedly. Some people didn''t believe the Mars colony was real either. Percival would be ashamed. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡®Just as then and now again.¡¯ I still don¡¯t know what to think. I¡¯d bet the Moon was a popular destination at some point. Anyway, their city council renamed it Musk Mountain after his first Mars rocket landing in the 030¡¯s. It was a stupid and divisive issue for the locals. Years later¡ªafter he departed in the super class diaspora¡ªhis hero status declined, to put it mildly. Then his companies collapsed. (Supposedly, again. It was hard to say anything about a person¡¯s financial status after they left earth and all their assets were moved to the OrbitBank blockchain.) People couldn¡¯t stand the name Musk Mountain then, if ever. It¡¯s been called Mars Mountain ever since. Kind of a throwback I guess. But that¡¯s a whole other story. Mars Mountain is still just the big mesa-like-hill west of the town.
Just as then and now again. These words echo like a voice from another time. Lying there still under his hollow cover, he begins planning. Thoughts drift with the rain. What¡¯s my next move? They¡¯ll probably stick together, right? He figured the best option was to see which way they skirt around Mars Mountain. The facing side of the large incline was bald, and they¡¯d see he hadn¡¯t gone up that way. They''d also know he wasn''t on the open dirt road around the base of the hill. They''ll probably go in and back toward the north trail. He''s almost certain. The soundscape of white noise shifted. It was abrupt. Heavy rain became soft. The audible change felt sudden and unwelcome. The dog barked again, barely audible this time. Definitely far enough now. He climbed out with minor struggle. It was the first time in a decade his back didn''t grind with pain from getting off the ground like that. The current adrenaline high made him feel the need to defecate. It was easy to hold back thinking about the men who wanted him dead. He remembered being able to see their warrant symbol chain on the holoscreen, just before the breach. ? âå ? | DSW> Definitely a D-Scan Warrant. A warrant to kill. Nineteen minutes ago he¡¯d seen them on a security cam after his holoset flashed a warning on his wristband. When he''d zoomed in they were checking the holographic biometry of someone. He watched them scroll through some data on their shared holoset outside, in the rain. A miniature 3D hologram of his exact body morphology and then his face appeared before these men, with the triangular eye above the data. They pointed and noted some features. Less than a minute later the heavy pounding began. Raeyla had rushed into his room with her eyes wide, filled with primal fear. In this moment he can¡¯t recall their frantic rush down the stairwell. With some help from Raeyla just before they parted, he¡¯d escaped the building undetected. And now it comes; the elation of still being alive. Tears thick as the rain coming down from the high, and juxtaposed with a longing for her¡ªhis offspring¡ª knowing her fear of being left alone to survive without him. Unless he too could survive. A blue chunk of sky is breaking the wet nimbus blanket overhead. The sun wants to shine through. Early sunset colors of bright orange paint the thinning clouds above, weaving a canopy of pine branches. It was surreal. The view made him forget what year it was. This only lasted for about five seconds before his mind cleared. The nootropics were wearing off. If the hunters keep going and traverse around together, maybe he should climb up the hill before they come back. Gain some higher ground and recon. There was plenty of cover up top. And he¡¯d be able to see back down into town. Spot the patrols and random checkpoint locations. Maybe then he could plan his way home and decide if it was safe. The night patrols would be starting soon. ¡°Home.¡± He scoffed at the thought of it. The comfort of previous ¡®homes¡¯ he can remember from times long gone. Back in town on the other side of Mars Mountain, they were sure to gather for a candle ceremony, praying on his most fortunate fate. But not investing in false expectations. So many had gone missing these last couple years. I need to get over and back down into town. Hopefully they stashed my packs in the tunnel lockers. I have supplies and a chance to survive down there. And a way out. He can¡¯t stay at the Allen house any longer. And not for the gossip over him and Daeja Allen. Any one of the remaining households would demand the grand sacrifice if he ever returned. He¡¯s marked now. But he still has the promise with Allen house. The promise was a two day protocol. After the second night, both Allen sisters would wait until nightfall and travel down into the tunnels. If his packs were gone they¡¯d light a palo santo candle and pray for his survival. If not, they¡¯ll take his things back up and divide supplies between the Allen elders.
? As you know, we still promise today just as then, ¡°I give to all my promise of stoic assurance, to lend my hand, if healthy, to you in times of need. I feel your gratitude and mine in tithe. To be retrieved if not returned, a hand not to be taken in grant, nor for granted.¡±
The three who hunted him were out of sight, around the base of the questionable mountain at this point. There could be others coming, or those two and the hound might backtrack anytime. At least a few hundred meters away by now, right? It¡¯s now or never. Another gamble. If he takes the main trail he''ll be easily seen. But the same would be true for them as well. They took the north trail around. He¡¯s almost certain. Otherwise he¡¯d be able to see them still. Right? Walk slow. Be like the rain. Let this dim light aid your path. You have dark clothes on. That¡¯s good while among these wet trees. All the tree trunks have rain-soaked bark. They¡¯re darkened like lacquered wood shining deep with richness, looking forever wet. He can see the west slope as he approaches. It''s still bare from an infamous small fire. It was ¡®a long time ago¡¯ as some folks say. This was not the big one, however. The big historic tragedy, the ruinous Moon Fire that burned most of town? That happened some years later in ¡¯045. Back then they used to name each and every forest fire, just like they did with hurricanes and even moderate rain storms with minor flooding. The fires and storms got worse and worse. Now they get named by their dates alone. Sometimes a nickname. Most fires occurred far enough away to be non-threatening. The seasonal monsoon rain storms became unbearable every few years. Yet some years were so dry. The storm today is barely moderate, considering the recent weather. So many changes. His mind is drifting again, but nothing seems that long ago really. Time is strange. He feels that soft sense of DPTD, the quick dream-like moment where ideas and memories blend together. Di-Polar Temporal Dislocation is a disconcerting experience, a perspective that feels wise but momentary. You can learn things from it. But it only happens when you¡¯re coming down from the nootropics. This is typical of nootropic induced temporal dislocation phenomenon.
? DPTD is often a great moment of clarity, used for thinking and digging into one¡¯s own mind. Hopefully, if one doesn¡¯t get the headaches. In which case you might have an allergy to the Solidrosol solution. Most considered it a worth-while trade for feeling 20 years younger. The enhancements were considerable. The new mind-body connection wasn''t just a feeling, one''s actions and strength were proof of the nootropic effects. The blood tests were proof... I digress every time telling this story.
He knows his only option is to make it over Mars Mountain. It''s a fairly easy hike, from this side. Climb the hill. Now¡¯s your chance. ¡°Why am I running?¡± Speaking aloud to himself again. He must not be seen. Clarity returns. Go now.
[1.2] Take the Hill Take the Hill ~ [1.2]
He ran across the main trail, a sloppy two-track service road, then began the ascent. Straight up with no time to rest. The rain was now a heavy drizzle. Still plenty of sound camouflage, most likely. But the storm was starting to clear. Three minutes. I think that''s all I need. He needs to get on top and out of sight quick. Maybe a little more at this age. Another gamble. Odds probably worse than a coin toss this time. Not good considering the consequence. The air was thick. The climb was hard. He tripped again, a quick slip on the wet grass. He barely noticed and kept hiking hard. Don¡¯t cough. Be as quiet as possible. Move fast. He feels heavy. His dripping sweatshirt and torn double-jeans* are adding pounds to the effort. Half way. Slow down a little so you can make it. Gotta catch my breath. Keep going. He hears a truck coming up the main trail. Around him lay scattered tree carcasses, dead and downed remains from the earlier small fire. He crouched behind one, finding the yellow long grass spongy and comfortable. No mud and not too sloppy right here. A black SUV came into view and sloshed down the two-track road. There are more out here looking for him. How many would be hunting? The bounty for his D-Scan** alone wouldn¡¯t be worth that much to split. The truck was almost gone. Far enough away at this point. Nobody saw him. This moment gave him a chance to breathe. It also gave him the feeling of a sharp nervous fire inside his belly, like his heart and stomach were melding inside. Finish the climb. It was steeper toward the top. Hiking straight up is so much harder than using switchbacks, even for this well-conditioned 73-year-old man. Once at the top of the incline he scrambles toward the thick shrubs and trees beyond. Moving fast through scrub oak and pine trees, he trudges into the forest. He¡¯s close to the old Lowell astronomy campus. It shouldn¡¯t be more than a thousand feet northeast through the woods. The burned crumbling buildings would provide cover. The landmark will provide directive. However, this could be a really bad thing if anyone else were up there. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Gotta be deserted right now from the rain. Hopefully. Sometimes older kids went up there to fuck and smoke. For the younger ones it became the most serious of dares to hike up and come back with a souvenir of proof. A while back¡ªafter the tragic Moon Fire¡ªthe gunkwick soldiers camped up here on occasion. Seventeen years ago to be exact. They don¡¯t anymore.
? The recently discovered stories encoded by Yunipter recount our heroes ambushing them at night when they saw campfires or heard drunk laughter echoing down from the mountain. According to the encryption files, this was likely to have occurred in the late 2040¡¯s. ¡®Undefined per-annum¡¯ it reads when this entry is located inside a folder named . It¡¯s not a corrupted file. This period is just poorly organized.
¡°What''s my plan?!¡± He whispered out loud again. He could smell himself. Smell his own thoughts. There wasn¡¯t any wind, but he worries a down draft from the rain will carry his scent. That elk-hound looked fierce. It sounds like a demon. Did he just hear it again? Down and over to the west? Damn. Where are they? Soon he will see the several structures and rooms where half-standing buildings surround the old dome-shaped telescope houses. The hunters might come all the way up too, if they continue following the north trail. Either that or they backtracked by now. He keeps hoping. He hopes they¡¯re searching off-trail. He also knows hiding out up there is a bad idea. But he needs to pass through the campus area and make it over and down to safety. Or some form of safety. Safer than staying up on this hill of a mountain. 40% chance they¡¯ll just happen upon me right here within five minutes. That dog will find me. On the move again, headed for the burnt out Lowell facility. He counts every five steps. 5 , 4 , 3 , 2 , 1 ¡­ Stop and listen. Nothing but the lightest sound of dripping trees and dying rain. The storm had mostly stopped. The day was getting late and the clouds were getting thin. A large glowing streak of blue peaks through the southeastern horizon, bright oranges and deep purples illuminate the sky through a clearing in the west. He¡¯s almost there, it¡¯s visible in the near distance. A third of the large rotunda wall is in ruins. Destroyed by the ''045 Moon Fire. The huge cylindrical body of the broken telescope is exposed from within. It looks like a grotesquely revealed tibia bone; like when a bloody compound fracture punctures the skin of somebody¡¯s lower leg. He¡¯s moving forward with stoic caution, clear-eyed and intentional. I have a plan.
[1.3] Mercy vs Pity

Mercy vs Pity ~ [1.3]

Forgiveness implies blame. Survival is different. Still evading and moving through his plan, he¡¯s ready for anything. But while he approached the dead and charred astronomy campus the old man succumbed to guarded hope. A sense of possible safety. They know not what they do. I think they went back down the trail.
? The tragedy that became of the Moon Fire-- it had burned many hundreds of homes in the Cheshire neighborhood and way into Upper Greenlaw. Not to mention the downtown business district. It tore through the old museum and up into Schultz Pass. Most of the oldtown area and about half of the city hospital were either destroyed or unusable afterward. Seven ICU patients were left to perish in the flames.
It happened so fast. Many died. The fires couldn¡¯t be controlled because of the new water rules and withholdings; the fire trucks couldn''t fill back up. Three fire brigades took it upon themselves to go pump out at Lake Mary, but it was too late by then. The new water rights had been set up regionally, directed by the Global Council of Water Commissioners and their network of contractors. (Officially the Global United National Council of Water Commissioners, or the GUNCWC, or more commonly just the "gunkwick" moved in like invasive vines, integrating with municipal water departments and their infrastructure.) It wasn¡¯t so much an extortion plan, more of a ¡®dominate & confiscate¡¯ operation. Their internal documents showed as much. The Moon Fire had started near the baseball fields, to the west of Kinlani Road. The other two-lane street running from Thorpe Park up to Mars Mountain had created a sort of fire line. The wind had sent the flames north, and then east. Much of the mountain itself was actually spared. But not the historic campus of astronomy buildings and research facilities on that northeastern side. The whole compound was destroyed the first day. Later in the year, the contractors started camping up there¨Chaving what sounded like parties at night¨C mostly on weekends.

?

Was it wrong for the local council to sanction the attacks on those drunk soldiers, partying at night up on our hill? After they let the fires rage for five days? Which destroyed not just the observatories, but over a third of the city and more beyond?! This is something I could never reconcile. It contradicts our new principles. But I wouldn¡¯t be here today teaching you, telling my part if they hadn¡¯t.
He finds plenty of cover to navigate carefully up on Mars Mountain. Remember lesson one. ¡°Keep moving or die. Only hide if you¡¯re impossible to find. Prepare to run at any time.¡± Trevor¡¯s voice sounded off in his head. The training hadn¡¯t begun until he was 47. Those sessions feel like a previous life at this point. More like two separate lifetimes, but also like nearly yesterday. Lesson two; stay low. Choose a strategic path. To the east, nothing but empty forest. He could maybe last one night if the temps didn¡¯t swing too low. But gunkwicks were known to let their dogs hunt in the night. Without a WRD map it¡¯d be impossible to find a water resource deposit tank out there. Those¡¯re almost impossible to find even with one of the old maps. They¡¯d been set up with the older g.maps platform but without the terrain layer, or the satellite overlay. Why? It made no sense. His mind is drifting yet again, in a moment like this no less. He catches himself. Stick to the plan. Get down to the tunnels. That¡¯s your only chance. After he gets his packs from the tunnel, his only practical way to leave town will be the cargo rail transport. It will arrive and leave three days from now on D3.X5.P2. (This would be around March 18th on the old calends.) He could pull this off, no problem. Getting on that train will be a challenge. A big risk, but once again no other options. And then he remembered... rather, he recalled that he couldn¡¯t remember if this week was the eastbound or westbound freighter. Damn it! That¡¯s my plan?! Another coin toss? The train would need to be headed east. If it was the westward line he¡¯d be dead within two days of departure. The Western Regional Trident security forces would catch him at the distribution warehouses, or the drones would find him during the unloading. However, the eastward line he would give him two options. After going through the regional border he could head south to the Alamex. Or, he could catch one of the older TSLA series autonomous road semi trucks headed north instead. Those were driverless, fast, and pretty easy to hack at charging stations. This route was busy, heading up through Santa Fe and east around the Rockies, through Pueblo and up into Denver. That would eventually take him to the fortified border of Idatopia*, surprisingly (or not) this is actually what they called it after three-and-a-half states chaotically seceded back in 2041. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Could he get in? Getting caught would be slightly worse than being extorted and interrogated by the Wyo militia gangs. Unless they have a newer MWC** device to check out his story. Either way that¡¯s another coin toss. But none of this matters if he can¡¯t get down from up here on the hill without being shot and scanned. It¡¯s time to act. He came out from behind a large pine tree and onto the small campus of astronomy buildings. Keeping to the edge of the central quad area for cover, he never knew three telescope houses were still standing, somewhat standing anyway. His ketosis was coming on strong. Walking with intention and awareness, he knows the pang inside will pass in a few minutes. It¡¯s wave three of a nineteen hour fasting ration. Everyone had to do these daily fasts all but one day a week***. Keep moving. Keep watching. Intent and aware, he stopped again. Looking for footsteps with his enhanced cochlea, the drizzle feels soft and content. He is creeping around old concrete and basalt walls, broken skeletons of the old structures, small caves and rubble from the torched buildings. An ominous colorful sky is clearing above. He jogged to his next point on light feet, eyes wide head swiveling, looking out for his hunters. These contractors looked like professionals, so they wouldn¡¯t be talking to communicate. Obviously hand signals only, or if they¡¯re implanted with NueroLink. Lesson three; shield with structures. Hide with shadows. The sky cleared out to the west as the drizzle picked up. He was crossing an open clearing between the building. That magical moment came right then. Have you ever seen it? When late afternoon sun shines golden amber all over you, but it¡¯s still raining. The tiny droplets hit your skin and spark, like bursting little stars. Phases of mind come in waves. The nootropic supplements enabled intense moments of perception and time dilation. With certain concoctions you could actually control it sometimes. In the best of experiences, these moments would feel like time manipulation. Suddenly, the feeling of a digitized lowness, a slow sound¡­ whoomvfv-v-v-v! A tiny stop-motion explosion on the rock wall grew large with his awareness. It happened only centimeters from his elbow. He felt it more than anything¡ªhe saw the feeling. It was a synesthetic reaction. Visceral. Then he heard the pop of a rifle. He ducked and squat-walked around the closest corner. They found me. This is it. The old man thought about sitting down. Right here. This was it. Something inside took over. He ran. Over the rubble and crumbled bricks, he dodged. But he¡¯d been seen. No hiding now. Stumbling and tripping under suspended walls and over mounds of debris, the man turned another corner. And there it was. She barely made a sound, just snarled with rage in her eyes. That mean dog was hungry, thinking to attack but without a command. Two seconds of stillness. He thought about slowly reaching, then remembered his old 9mm was buried in his pack down in the tunnel. Hopefully. No. That doesn''t matter now. The crack rang out again. Another round echoed, ¡°pop!¡± Only the sound this time. Shit marksmanship like usual from those assholes. Then he sees the crunch of a sound wave bouncing off the wall across from him. Three steps coming from behind. Just as he completes the observation, in his peripheral a black sleeve grabs around his right arm. The other arm wrapped his neck in a choke hold. They stumbled back and away from the beastly K9. A violent struggle ensued. Where¡¯s the other one? The dog started barking with frantic anger. It nipped hard at the two tangled men, rolling along the base of a crumbling half wall. Why didn¡¯t this one shoot him from behind? This will always be impossible to determine. Perhaps he wasn¡¯t warranted? The second hunter came up within nine seconds. Pistol drawn, rifle strapped around his back. He shot twice. How did he miss? ¡°Don¡¯t shoot me brother!¡± The one struggling on the ground with the old man screamed in anger. ¡°Wo jinliang bu. I¡¯m trying not to!¡± the other yelled back, adjusting and shuffling for better aim. Another shot rang out. Nothing? Was it even a second later? A blunt yet sharp and slicing sensation. It wasn¡¯t pain, though. Warmth. Then it was. Pain. ¡°Ahhhh. No! Fuck you gunkwicks!¡± He belted out feeling the blood pour inside his shirt. It was discomforting like wet bathing trunks, repulsive like soiled garments between your legs. Imminent demise can give a human superpower strength. He punched up, then kicked with two legs while pushing himself away. Smothered in chaos, he pulled himself up fast. The men didn¡¯t attack or rebound as he expected. The one with the knife was ready to pounce. But his eyes flashed over to his distracted comrade with the rifle. His head cocked over in that direction. ¡°HEY! LOOK!¡± The immobilized one yelled with disgusting projection. The pistol at his side, his shoulders slumped with sudden hopelessness. This startled the old man. The incongruity cut straight through the intensity. The loudest thing I¡¯ve ever heard from human lungs. Everything stopped and time paused. The other soldier turned and stood tall. He looked up, as if defying the frozen moment. Calmness overridden by fear. The dog whimpered an inaudible phrase. The old man could taste her sad sound. He could smell her cowering away.

?

Steven E. Robertson¡¯s account of the event is retold to this day. His description of our ungodly experience is renowned. I looked back and up in that moment. The same direction as the two men attempting my murder. Up and over to the west. They were paralyzed. Entranced. The one who stabbed me dropped his gaze, and we made eye contact. Despair and disgust were sculpting his face. It was horrifically beautiful, the most incomprehensible thing I¡¯d ever seen. An awe-inspired view, hideous and terrifying. The most incredible kaleidoscopic painting of intense radiating waves and animated colors. Oranges, yellows and purples, mixing with a pulsing redness spiraling inward, but also outward. It compressed, and then expanded in a rush. A severe intestinal crushing and stringy feeling of disembowelment followed. The atmosphere shook and squeezed the earth with violence, a jolting sensation like the deepest vibration you could imagine. It was the initial radial wave hitting. My insides were melting from the pressure. This was the ninth day of the fourth week in the second period of year 2063. The ides of March according to the ancient calends. The day our sun explodes.
[END TRANSMISSION OF NFT FILE no. <1.1:1.3/03.15.063/D9X4P2> AS TOLD BY DEIMOS WOODHOUSE-ROBERTSON, SURVIVOR no. 3517, GRANDSON OF STEVEN ROBERTSON, VIA HOLOSCRIBE IN YEAR 2127.] {This completes chapter one. Footnotes below.}
[2.1] Chapter Two ~ Defensive Decisions Chapter 2.1 ~ YEAR 2046
[EXTRACTED FROM THE WOODHOUSE FILE: ¡®THE.ACCOUNTS.OF-DR.SAMUEL.WOODHOUSE¡¯ RECOVERED FROM THE YUNIPTER ENCRYPTION NFT FILE no. <2.1:2.5/06.11.046/D3X2P2>] It¡¯s a quarter to midnight. The warm summer air feels peaceful as I walk up the steps to the dark city building. Our head of security had just unlocked both sets of thick glass doors. He rushed me in before locking the fortified entrance behind us. He did so with purpose. After the second huge clonk of deadbolts, TJ Cooper pointed into the cavernous space beyond into which the moon cast pale colorless shapes. Without a word I nodded and continued into the shadows. Under the deep vaulted ceiling my steps echoed until I reached the hallway at the end of the foyer. I hear the raised voices down the hall. Their arguments are getting louder. I had entered the city building wondering which room the meeting would be in, but as I approached it was obvious. My walk hastened and I hurried toward the raucous sounding door on the right, then pulled it open. Just before entering I had a fantastical notion, the vision of an angry room becoming silent and all attention falling to me. The energy in the air would defer to my arrival and peace would ensue. This did not happen. Only Michael Schiento noticed, or gave any acknowledgement to my entrance. The arguing dampened to a spirited conversation among individuals and between groups. I felt the egotistical vision had been partially manifest, due to the apparent change in volume. Although, it was more like a restaurant getting quiet for no apparent reason. Far from silence. Far from total calm. Most folks here know something about me, the man coming to make this presentation on the night of the vote. I¡¯ve spent weeks pouring over the data and critiquing both sides of the issue. Therefore, I wasn¡¯t friendly with any particular group, nor they with me. But everyone knows my analysis is to be non-partisan. They know I am someone designated by the city council and the mayor. They know I am also approved by the households, either directly or by reputation through Mike Schiento and Daeja Allen. Some of them know how close I was with Daeja¡¯s husband, Grieg Allen, and still am with Steve Robertson. The rectangular room had a couple round tables in opposite corners. More than a dozen old folding chairs are scattered along the walls. An old wood podium sits lonely on the floor with an empty microphone holder at the end of an adjustable arm. It looks worn out and tired, placed at an awkward angle to my left. It¡¯s not quite in the middle of the room, but flirting with the long wall adjacent the hallway. The room is not small, but feels claustrophobic due to the 28 other people crammed inside. Everyone is packed into different cohorts. Some of them arguing in agreement amongst themselves. Others shouting over their shoulders. A councilwoman named Sarra Bennit is raising a passionate fist at others. She''s shaking her balled hand back and forth as she speaks, as if pounding on some invisible door with each point she¡¯s trying to make. I hear muted disagreement and disparagement. The benevolent and cool-headed are working to keep the place from boiling over. It looks like a web of ideas resisting and interlocking at the same time. A vague and nervous wave of d¨¦j¨¤ vu swept over my forethought. It was the look on his face, and the color of the podium, and the shape of the chairs along the wall. Mike looked nervous underneath his typical surety. He was one of those guys who always seemed comfortable in his persona. Confident, yet kind and always welcoming, he seemed to know everyone. While he was finding a way out of his conversation I looked around to see who else I recognized. It was hard to tell if the prophetic feeling continued or was wearing off. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. At the end of the room, on the opposite short wall was a full length of pickled oak cabinets. They were old and degraded, looking like furniture from a college dorm at the turn of the century. The unit was sturdy, built into the wall with a countertop between a row of cupboards above and cabinets below. At the far end was a large coffee maker expounding a deep, comforting aroma. Yuni Robertson was attending the area, setting up her minimalist gear while making sure people felt welcomed and free to a hot cup. I saw an amber bubble of calmness surrounding her. People entered that bubble and were greeted with coffee, and calmness. It was a flash. A momentary vision. An olfactory fabrication. Our local alliance is a management scheme involving seven secret water wells on five family properties. These were all undocumented and unregistered even before the takeover. They¡¯re also under the cover of trees or other structures, keeping them invisible to the satellite surveys. The GUNCWC have no knowledge of this. The families provide a selfless and noble service to the local population. What''s left of it anyhow. All registered town residents receive an encrypted digital token every week. It allows them to collect a generous ration of clean water for drinking and cooking. The families have a genius system of pipes and main valves converted for their own purposes. The distribution coordinates change 3-4 times a week. There are rumors circulating in town about the five households cheating to hoard the water distribution. Some people in this room even believe it. I think it¡¯s jealous nonsense. It would be nearly impossible for them to thwart their own integrated systems. If it were one family controlling the whole thing, then I could see the mistrust. But it¡¯s a mathematically balanced calculation. The five households are all represented here tonight by matriarchs, patriarchs and household assemblies. I can¡¯t see every face, but I know well enough who all 28 members of this committee are. The Allen sisters and their mom, the five Ashurst siblings, old man Abineau with his wife and the mayoral cohort, the Schiento family, and the Singanas. My closest friend since childhood, Steve Robertson is also here with his daughter. They are not part of the five families, but most respect their opinions, especially Yuni¡¯s, although she never offers it. She¡¯s not a voting member here. Steve Robertson is, however, an honorary voter on this Household Domains Committee. In fact, he¡¯s the Chairman of the HDC. This means that while mayor Abineau obviously chairs public city council meetings, Steve is the chairman for these semi-secret HDC events. The mayor is technically in the co-chair seat here. But their bi-laws have ordained Doyle Abineau with the title of ¡®president.¡¯ He is delighted by this, although it only grants him the power to veto a proposed motion. And his veto can be overridden by the chairman plus thirteen. Yuni acts as the group¡¯s recorder, accountant and stenographer. She¡¯s a natural talent with tech devices and holosets, and she¡¯s just about ready to record the proceedings. She took on this role herself with a preternatural understanding of the value in capturing historic events, and crunching data. Throughout a thick thirty seconds I eavesdrop and hear conversations. Each with their own hue. Some between council members, the Ashurst clan, the Singuana uncle with his nephew, a few others¡­
¡°I say let ¡®em die! I don¡¯t know how you can be undecided here!¡± Sarra Bennit is callous. ¡°I¡¯m just saying nobody should commit their vote until we have all the facts,¡± councilman Eastburn says. "Or, at least all the facts possible to collect.¡± Pat Cline adds. ¡°Besides, Sarra, you¡¯re not gonna be the one going up there¨Cto¨C to do it!¡± Eastburn added on. ¡°Well, I agree with Sarra. And I¡¯ll sign up if they need more boots,¡± said another councilwoman, Taylor Riles, without irony or introspection. ¡°I think it¡¯s a done deal. I don¡¯t care what he has to say,¡± the youngest Ashurst sounds indignant, but not quite authentic. ¡°I still want to know what he¡¯s got on them,¡± the middle Ashurst responds. ¡°They just let the fires rage on and on. You have friends who died. I have friends who died,¡± says Andrew Ashurst. ¡°I think it was on purpose.¡± Trevor Ashurst tacks on. It¡¯s hard to say if all the Ashurst brothers agree. ¡°With every choice comes a consequence, Beto,¡± says the older Singana uncle. His nephew is a young man, clean cut, dark and serious. He stands brooding with arms crossed, boots of a caballero looking dirty and worked. Daeja Allen is with Julia Abineau complaining about the registered residents in the city starting rumors about manipulating the water rations. ¡°How could we even do that? The calculations are encrypted on the blockchain.¡± ¡°Daeja, most people have never even looked at it.¡± Julia responds. I can¡¯t quite hear what Daeja said next, but she ended with, ¡°¡­even though they all have the data!¡±
As the volume increases with another wave, the voices start blending with the aroma of coffee. ¡°Yeah, but wouldn¡¯t you love to know how they¡¯re doing it up there in the north, inside the UTN stronghold?¡± I¡¯m not sure who¡¯s over there talking about the Native Americans. But whoever it is, they are correct to wonder about the successful defiance up north. This smell and the vocal cacophony reminds me of the deep conversations we shared at the espresso houses years ago. Mike and Steve, me and Grieg¡­ we used to meet at the old cafe on Birch Avenue every Thursday. These morning restaurants were thriving in our town years ago. None of us have shared a coffee together since¡ªwell, since Grieg never came back from the regional negotiations. Those were a bunch of show hearings to placate the people. He went to advocate for private water rights at the regional capitol in Denver. Before his turn to speak, it all turned into an uprising of sorts. An uprising that was put down with wrath and force. They refused to release the names of the dead and they disappeared the bodies. Anyone who died was deemed an enemy combatant. They were all designated terrorists posthumously, anonymously, like an Orwellian open secret. Other protests and revolts had been met with force, but also led to some concessions and reconfiguration of the regional plans. The rest of Singana family are in the back getting coffee. The Singana patriarch, Lorenzo, is animated while chatting with Yuni. He¡¯s explaining something with two gregarious hands. She gave him a warm mug. His arms became quiet, his body now calm. Mike glanced again from across the room. We made eye contact.
[2.2] Sanction vs Sacrifice

Sanction vs Sacrifice ~ [2.2]

Michael came over to greet me after extricating himself from colleagues. It had been an eternal ninety seconds. I always feel out of place in crowds. ¡°Sam, I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re finally here. Thanks for doing this. Everyone else apparently thought to come early and start debating before the vote.¡± ¡°You mean argue and yell?¡± I asked. He was trying to lighten me up. Mike continued, ¡°Even though no one¡¯s seen your report yet, many of ¡®em think they know what¡¯s best. Are you ready to get started? Can I get you anything? There¡¯s some e/n-fluid up there in the lectern. I was able to get you almost five ounces!¡± I replied with sincerity, ¡°Much gratitude, Mike.¡± ¡°Steve refined the ratio a little more. It¡¯s hiding for you on the shelf.¡± And I am grateful. Four ounces of the electrolytic-nootropic fluid would be the same as drinking a full glass of rich spring water pumped directly from the limestone aquifers underground. This mineral rich water gives more than hydration alone. The added supplements will carry me through the night. There¡¯s a lot of data to present this evening. It¡¯s all up here in my neural network of a brain. Mind is the filter of recall. Drawing it out with the right words will be necessary tonight. Executing this plan¨Clike any plan¨Cwill be the hard part. The e/n water will help me no doubt. ¡°Not to be taken in grant, nor for granted,¡± Mike said following up. Normally that common phrase wouldn¡¯t bother me. And it would¡¯ve made more sense had I said it first. I should¡¯ve said it first. I wonder what he meant by saying that? I¡¯m probably reading too much into it. I nodded¡ªabout to respond when he got in front to complete his thought. Nodding back and says, ¡°Just make sure you give us everything tonight. Everything you know about these fuckers. Help us make an informed and educated decision. We need that ¡®network effect¡¯ you taught me about.¡± Doyle Abineau approached us out of nowhere. He has a round front side, causing him to lean back and compensate his weight while walking. It¡¯s more like a slow and boisterous waddle. The mayor is a large and jovial man. ¡°You think this will go well?¡± He asked in a slightly annoying way, reaching out. I shook his hand with reciprocal firmness, but without answering the question. ¡°Doyle.¡± The room is moving fast, and I need to speed up before getting on this freeway. Out of nowhere, Mike whistled an ear splitting slice of air between two fingers in his mouth, like you see in movies. Then he clapped twice with commanding power. Three seconds and the room was silent. His voice carries with volume and clarity. ¡°Okay everyone. Thanks for being here tonight. Just so y¡¯all know, we might see the sun rise tomorrow. We have work to do. Steve?¡± ¡°The HDC is now in session,¡± Steve Robertson declares with authority. Mike pressed on, ¡°You all know me, and most of you know me well. But I¡¯m guessing only about half of us know our guest tonight. Sam Woodhouse. You know why he¡¯s here, but you probably don¡¯t know what he does. Even if you¡¯ve read his bio.¡± Mike received a few subdued chuckles. ¡°Sam is a researcher and regarded analyst of modern bureaucratic structures and their global organizational models. He writes on distributed network theory, and currently develops statistical data modeling systems using his own proprietary logistical projection algorithms¡­ i.e. ¡®secret projection algorithms.¡¯ Dr. Woodhouse has monitored the movements of the gunkwick personnel and equipment since 2043, the year they became active in our country. He personally delivered a group of small-batch servers preloaded with his proprietary code to the UNA¡¯s up north. And you know the rumors. That¡¯s partly why their stronghold is so well organized and fortified. Apparently they used it with great success, huh?!¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. The room whispered. Most people didn¡¯t know that was my doing. These computer systems are like some kind of myth currently emerging. Most people outside this room don¡¯t even know who I am. He left out that I did the same for the Alamex. Mike finished up, ¡°I could go on about his accomplishments and qualifications. But let¡¯s get to it. Ladies and gentleman, this is Dr. Samuel Woodhouse.¡± There was no clapping. Applause was written on some faces, but not many. I stepped behind the podium, reached under and took a sip of the silvery blue liquid. The room was quiet, but did not feel calm. After a breath that was likely mistaken for a sigh, I began my presentation. ¡°Tonight you are gathered here to vote on a grave matter. A serious plan is in consideration, as everyone knows. I want to start by saying; nothing can be taken without a price. And while a price is being paid by our citizens everyday, by us, our families, brothers and sisters¨Cwe¡¯ll have more taken from us no matter what you decide here this evening. If these actions are sanctioned, we must consider the burden, the price we are willing to pay. ¡°To sanction anybody requires sacrifice, for the word itself goes in either direction: to allow a thing, or to have a thing disallowed and taken. Before I show you the results of my analysis, I want every man and woman in this room to know that, no matter your result, we¡¯ll need to find a way to pay our way¨Cehh pave it¨Cto pave our way forward.¡± I stuttered. I never stutter. ¡°Know this before we enter deep into the night. In the end we will invoke our own self imposed sanctions as a means to ration our final salvation. Your decision tonight will dictate the generosity and the affordance of our rations for years to come.¡± I paused for a breath. I paused to make sure everyone knew. These reverberations will be felt long into the future. ¡°For it will likely take generations to dismantle the shackles that now bind us. But one thing I believe everyone here agrees on; the regime must fall. The gunkwick and their commissioners are not welcome here or anywhere else around the world. The only people who approve are the elite administrators themselves, the corporatist politicians who have turned their backs on us and invested in these authoritarian hierarchies. The people know this. And on this I know we all agree.¡± The emotional temperature was level for the first time that evening. I continued diving into my full report. We started with easy-to-explain data like estimated gunkwick numbers up at their camp on the hill. Comparing that with our trained and approved force operators, and then a visual graph of their weaponry compared to ours. I answered occasional questions. The mood of the room was attentive. We discussed more items regarding simple logistics. As a group exercise, we pulled up info about the other gunkwick camps outside town and their response resources in the general vicinity. I intentionally guided the initial conversation to create more cohesion and unity inside the cramped room. I showed how our plan of a clandestine night attack would yield us the advantage, in the short term and near long term. The fact that we have better trained operatives, the fact that gunkwick support and radio calls would be unresponsive for at least thirteen minutes. The fact that we could jam their holosets from broadcasting any live capture footage. The fact that the terrain would provide cover for our team to return or retreat if a contingency became needed. I withheld the information about the basement at Lowell. The secret shaft under the large telescope will only be known by one operative, if the plan gets approved by the vote. A possible eighth water well, as yet undiscovered, or forgotten to be more accurate. Lost to time. There was one entry in Percival Lowell¡¯s journal that hinted toward groundwater being pumped on his compound. And another entry mentioning a ¡°mine of riches and sustenance¡± that kept him provisioned up on the mesa. Whatever that meant, this is what supposedly enabled his obsessive and contentious research. I¡¯m done with the easy part. It was time to bring up the contentious issues of tonight¡¯s conversation. We¡¯ll take a quick break first.
[2.3] All for One, Hubris for All All for One, Hubris for All With our break just announced the room was lively again. I realized Steve was staring at me. He gave an obvious nod, and like a tractor beam I was pulled out into the hall with him, amongst a group of others. ¡°Walk with me, young friend,¡± Steve said jokingly, his baritone voice darkened by the years. At 54, he told me recently how he suddenly felt old this past winter. He doesn¡¯t show it except for a head of silver hair, a few dark threads making a final stand. I¡¯m eleven years his junior. He knows I¡¯ve looked up to him like an older brother, for over half my life now, since a time when we were actually young. ¡°Gladly, old friend.¡± I replied. He gave me a subtle but warm smile. Steven Robertson¡¯s presence has always felt large¨Cand still does¨Caverage in build, he¡¯s fit with broad shoulders but not a big man. His new KiK? water shoes are skinned all the way up, but it hadn''t even rained today. He probably doesn¡¯t want anyone smelling his feet. I laugh inside. Only a close friend would notice something so obvious. We meandered into the dark open foyer, talking superficially about the last few days. The chatter in the hall masked our conversation. I stopped abruptly near the staircase when he asked me, ¡°So, did you do a headcount?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°If you counted you¡¯d notice the number is odd tonight.¡± ¡°What do you mean the number is odd? Who¡¯s not here? What¡¯s the number?¡± ¡°The number is 27. Old man Schiento couldn¡¯t make it. Mike told me yesterday, his dad is now consumed by the illness¨Csaid he probably wouldn¡¯t make it to the vote. I saw Haruki last week, we spoke via holoset. He didn¡¯t look so good. It was brief, and he wouldn¡¯t even hint at his position on the issue. But Mike said he has a sealed affidavit here tonight with his father¡¯s vote¡ª we¡¯ll present it to the council later, when you¡¯re done.¡± ¡°What does this mean? Will the HDC still vote tonight?¡± ¡°Oh yeah. His vote will get proxied in. We¡¯ll see how it all plays out, but I expect a few objections, maybe a small minority if any. People want this vote to happen, no matter their stance.¡± I could tell there¡¯s more on his mind. He then asked me, ¡°What else do you have, Sam? What¡¯s the next half looking like?¡± Steve wants me to trade secrets. We¡¯re separated and far enough from the others, they¡¯ve all congregated in the hallway. I was about to respond when our awkward silence was interrupted by a faint screeching sound, something jostled on the floor tiles above on the second floor loft, maybe a planter or trash can upstairs. We would¡¯ve missed it had either of us been speaking, but the echo carried under the open ceiling where we stood. I looked at Steve and he looked back from the corner of his eyes, then turned toward me with inquisition lining his forehead. I motioned an index finger to my lips with mutual understanding. We both directed our ears upward. We had the same feeling, why would someone be upstairs? We could see the balcony railing, and part of the landing. I made out a shadow moving around up there. Someone¡¯s up on the lofted second floor above. When I began tiptoeing toward the stairs to get a better look, Steve grabbed my arm and motioned me to follow him back the other way. We walked quickly and quietly along the far wall and down an opposite hallway, heading east toward the annex, making sure nobody saw us. Steve pointed to a door at the end of the dark corridor, an emergency stairwell. He opened it silently and let me in, then closed it behind us with utmost care. We ran up two half-flights and came to a landing with no more stairs, just a door with block letters declaring the obvious, SECOND FLOOR. I used the same discretion on this door as Steve had below, then followed him down an identical dark hallway leading back toward the vaulted foyer area. We began hearing muffled voices as we slowly paced on quiet feet. As we came to a corner Steve held an open hand down by his side, fingers wide, then shook it once deliberately, signaling me to hold. We stopped to listen. I heard TJ Cooper, our security mastermind, talking secretively. Then a whispering Mike Schiento, and someone else. I was staring at the ground when Steve put his face right up to my ear, ¡°I think it¡¯s Trevor Ashurst, and TJ!¡± he said with an intense whisper. TJ was definitely around the corner, discreetly explaining something to someone. ¡°I can do this with Bryant, no problem. Bryant leads alpha squad and we¡¯ve already trained on this.¡± ¡°How many?¡± ¡°It¡¯ll just be the two of us.¡± I could hear the eldest Ashurst trying to keep his large voice under control, ¡°I want you to make it happen, fifteen minutes into the next session.¡± Then we both recognized Mike¡¯s unlikely voice, ¡°Wait, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s good. This won¡¯t have the reaction you want. I¡¯m telling you!¡± My eyes popped open as I watched Steve go boldly around the corner exclaiming, ¡°what the fuck is goin¡¯ on here?¡± I stayed back, still hiding, feeling cowardly. Trevor Ashurst buried his surprise, ¡°Steve, what the hell. Were you hiding over there?¡± Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Steve replied confidently, ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter. What the fuck are you hiding?¡± Ashurst deflected, trying to diminish any import in the situation. He placed a bet with Steve, ¡°why don¡¯t you join us. We have something interesting planned.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a good idea I¡¯m telling you,¡± Mike sought refuge in Steve¡¯s unforeseen arrival. There was a long pause. Then Steve demanded again, ¡°TJ, tell me what¡¯s goin¡¯ on here.¡± ¡°We have a little operation ready to go that will hopefully swing any remaining votes our way.¡± TJ divulged. ¡°Oh yeah? Tell me more. I have open ears.¡± Steve takes a tone of sarcastic honesty. Sometimes it¡¯s hard to say what you¡¯ll get from him. Mike butted in, ¡°He¡¯s not gonna like it. Steve will set you straight on this, TJ.¡± At this moment I came out from around the corner. Attempting to hide my sheepish body language, I approached with fake confidence, and not all that well. I hoped Steve would back my arrival and ingratiate me. Ashurst poked, ¡°Have you been here this whole time too?! Welcome to the party Dr. Woodhouse.¡± Mike Schiento replied, ¡°Leave him out of it. Sam, you shouldn¡¯t be here, go back downstairs.¡± ¡°No. He stays. No secrets here. Tell me the plan. What. The. Fuck. Are you guys discussing?¡± Steve is slowly gaining control. He can be absurdly convincing, nearing intimidation. Trevor motioned TJ to open up and explain, ¡°Listen, me and Bryant are going to stage a firefight outside, just a few rounds. You¡¯ll definitely hear it from inside. We¡¯re going to make a point. Ensure the HDC votes for the operation.¡± Steve looked unconvinced, but wanting more. TJ continued, ¡°I¡¯ll come running into the meeting, tell the HDC that I was just fired at, fucking drive-by style. We¡¯ll say the damn gunkwicks shot at the night security for no reason. The story will go like this. They¡¯d obviously not know anyone¡¯s here tonight, since there¡¯s no chance they¡¯d risk antagonizing the council. That kind of shit would get their entire company contract revoked. No. They were just drunk and saw me and Bryant, the typical night security at City Hall doing rounds, nothing out of the ordinary. Thought they could take a cheap shot and get away with it. Probably just meant to scare us anyway. That¡¯s the story. Alright?¡± Ashurst added, ¡°Yeah. And then what? Tell them.¡± TJ followed up, ¡°While I¡¯m inside explaining what¡¯s happened, Bryant will torch a staged SUV out front. Our supposed gunks would be obviously gone by the time council and y¡¯all come out. Bryant will grab a partly burned jacket out of the vehicle. We have a fake comm card prepared with some garbled info about using the facility up on Mars Mountain, something about an old MWCD power supply, and some talk about conducting usage data mining. We¡¯ll ¡®find¡¯ this in the jacket.¡± TJ accentuated this part with air quotes. ¡°The damaged encryption slider will indicate it¡¯s open format. Anyone will be able to pull it up with their own holoset.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think that¡¯ll look a little convenient?¡± Mike rebuts. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter, it will confirm many unconfirmed suspicions. This will only hold up your little meeting by thirty¨Cmaybe forty minutes tops.¡± TJ makes a quip and continues, ¡°By the time you¡¯re all back inside, the fake comm card will be spreading around the group, it should sway any remaining undecided votes on the committee, and maybe even change a few.¡± Trevor Ashurst tried to lobby, ¡°This will shore up support with the folks who don¡¯t think we should counter these damn gunks. At least most of them.¡± For the first time I spoke up, ¡°No! Even if people buy your staged bullshit, I don¡¯t care. Let me do my job. I have a plan here. You don¡¯t know this, not even you, Steve, but this presentation has a design.¡± Steve asked me pointedly, ¡°What are you saying, Sam?¡± I replied, ¡°We don¡¯t have time to get into it. But let me say this. TJ, we¡¯ve been working together for the last three weeks, don¡¯t ruin this. Don¡¯t use our research against me. We have the data needed to make a case here. You helped me with the damn report.¡± TJ responded with an attitude I didn¡¯t recognize and never saw throughout the last few weeks, ¡°You said you¡¯re gonna make a case without anyone knowing which side you¡¯re on. I don¡¯t know how that¡¯s possible. I¡¯ve been listening to your presentation from the hall. I honestly don¡¯t think you have it in you.¡± ¡°We¡¯re barely half way done. Give me a goddamn chance!¡± ¡°Give him a chance.¡± Mike backed me up. Steve finished, ¡°Trevor, TJ, listen to me. You let this meeting play out, it¡¯s the least complicated action. Don¡¯t let your hubris make the decision. And it looks like we just voted here. It¡¯s three against two. You¡¯re on notice. Both of you. Ok?¡± Ashurst argued, ¡°You¡¯re not the damn chairman right now, Steve.¡± I broke in one last time so we could put a stop to this insanity, ¡°Let me finish this briefing! We¡¯ll get the votes we want, or at least the ones we need. TJ, this bullshit is going to get someone hurt, or just derail our entire evening. It won¡¯t play out how you want.¡± ¡°Listen to him,¡± Mike said. ¡°He¡¯s here for a reason.¡± Trevor Ashurst could barely let it go. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But it¡¯s late and we need to get back. You win for now. Hold off, TJ. And thanks for your dedication to this town and all of us.¡± I was now eager to get back down and continue as planned. I started backing away. Steve shook his head and whispered something to Mike. Then out loud, ¡°We all have similar accolades for you, TJ. But don¡¯t ruin your trust with the committee.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I said to the four of them. We split up and made our way back down to ground-level from different sides and entered separately. People were waiting, chatting, none seemed impatient. But I felt awkward and exposed. Some of the members were showing the hour on their faces, but nobody seemed suspicious. Or so I hoped; Beto scowled at Steve with a contemplative look, his head cocked when Trevor Ashurst entered last. It didn¡¯t matter. Nobody could ever guess the subversion we¡¯d just mitigated. I¡¯d grown to like TJ lately, but this was a surprise. He¡¯s eager to do something about the gunkwick problem. And honestly, I was just as eager. It was time to focus and get back on track with the meeting. Yuni raised her eyes at me from the back of the room, her brow furrowed. It seemed accusatory and I looked away, not giving up my thoughts or feelings about any of it. Not showing her my vivid recollection of the previous night when she came to interview me on record, and especially not the subversive anomaly I¡¯d just witnessed up on the second floor. I always feel like she can see right through me, but there¡¯s a strange comfort in it, each and every time. [2.4] AI-LEP & The Stronghold The Stronghold ~ [2.4]
[THE FOLLOWING RECORDED STATEMENTS BY DOCTOR SAMUEL WOODHOUSE WERE CAPTURED ON JUNE 9, 2046. TRANSCRIBED AND ENTERED BY YUNIPTER, EMBEDDED INTO THE ENCRYPTION IN 2051. THIS NFT FILE no. <2.4/06.09.046/D1X2P2> RESIDES HIDDEN WITHIN FILE no. <2.1:2.5/06.11.046/D3X2P5>]
A friend recently said to me, ¡®It¡¯s technically not an invasion if your own government invites them in.¡¯ That¡¯s a tough pill to swallow. I used to argue some point about it ever being ¡®our own government.¡¯ But compared to now? You should ask Abineau about that. Political science isn¡¯t my forte. Just the systemic hierarchies themselves. After I share some of this with you I need to finish my report for the presentation tomorrow. But I¡¯m glad to see you. It¡¯s been a long time¡­
[microphone noise, video angle and focus reset.]
Yup. Okay. I¡¯ll tell you what I can. The drinking water rations have gotten bad. The gray water rations almost as much. But the five families who control the seven secret wells work together to provide supplemental provisions in an equitable way. Their distribution system is extremely thought out, created with a sophisticated calculation of volume estimates for respective underground aquifers. Networked sensors feed into the new blockchain allocation system. From my take on the math, I think they¡¯re doing a great thing. It¡¯s basically a truncated version of the system I delivered to the stronghold up north. The Native Americans in the north have surpassed the Alamex in their management efficiencies and dominance over the UNC. I have no idea how they were able to customize and tweak the system so fast. And then execute the plan. That¡¯s always the hard part. There are many other families, outposts, clans and tribes in the greater Northern Arizona area. We hear of new alliances forming on a regular basis. The four corners region is home to large reservations of Native American land. The Hopi and Navajo have retreated into their expanded territory and fortified their borders and roads. The UNC tried to strong arm the Navajo Nation and other tribes in the southwest. They responded with measured preparedness. Other reservation lands in the country were easier to surround and extort into a deal with the UNCWC. But what happened in the northern region of the southwest was different. The Navajos joined forces with the Hopi in a surprising display of solidarity. It was unprecedented. Their grievance and attitudes toward each other were less important now, finally considering a new and greater common enemy. Even greater than the US Federal Government, that is. To the west, the Hualapai and Havasupai tribes made an earlier alliance. Then came their internal water agreements with the Navajo-Hopi to the east. This resulted in new alliances and a self proclaimed expansion of sovereign territory. Other tribes joined, and by all accounts it was contentious and opaque from our view. Due to geography and other reasons some tribes were cut off, such as the Kaibab to the northwest, and the Zuni in the south. But it¡¯s known that some Zuni and Acoma peoples moved north to join in the Din¨¦ Resistance. Understand, there are over 15 separate tribes and native councils in this southwestern region. The Utes and the Jicarilla-Apaches joined in the east. But many did not agree to forfeit their unitary sovereignty. In the end, we think it was a total of about five tribal systems who joined force with the Din¨¦. But only the white man was worried about these specifics. And likewise the Regional Trident Governor and the Commissioners. After their agreements were finalized, this new United Tribal Government made themselves well known. Their stronghold now covers a massive amount of land. And the newly formed Tribal Nation is serious about their borders. The UNC and the National United States Government (NUSG) counted on this never being possible. History dictated as much. That the Tribes could form any unification at all, and then organize it like this was unexpected, especially considering their complicated history. That the Unified Tribes could do it so fast and hold out this long was even more incredible. That the amount of water they control is immense and beyond valuable. That their weaponry and shrewdness matches the white man¡¯s is insulting. It is power. And it is unacceptable to the regional governments. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
"Just as then and now again," Yuni broke in to offer her understanding of the history. "Say some more about the NUSG. How did that structure come out of the USA?"
The 29th Amendment to the United States Constitution preceded and resulted in the secessions. The 30th and 31st Amendments were rapidly passed thereafter. These three alterations to the constitutional format created the Superior Trident States.The former United States Federal Government¨Cor the United States of America (the shortened ¡®US¡¯ is still common)¨Cwas not dissolved. Instead, the new federal system was an incorporation of the three Regional Tridental States. These three regional governments are legally established liaisons within the federal authority unit in Washington, DC, which is now called the National United States Government. A thick layer of bureaucracy, the new governance model completely severs the people from their representation once and for all. There are still technically ¡®states¡¯ like Arizona, etc., but they are only represented in the Regional Trident to which they belong.
"I''m sorry I didn''t mean to interrupt you from before. Keep describing the United Tribal Stronghold up north." She''s keeping Sam on task for this recording.
Their new monikers are meant to troll typical governmental abbreviations. It was ¡®officially¡¯ the UNAWS. The United Native American Water Stronghold. ¡®UNAS¡¯ for short if you like acronyms. UNA for extra short. Their new-formed army is the UTWA. Which stands for United Tribal Water Agency. Some people call it the United Tribal Nation. Or, the UTN. But they don¡¯t care about official titles. It¡¯s more of an inside joke to them. The concept, the very form itself is all that really matters. Most of the people around here look up to the people in the north. I¡¯m in awe of what they¡¯ve pulled off. I never thought the AI-LEP systems could be used this way. I only dreamed someday it would be possible.
I know you''ve been working on A.I.L.E.P. for a while--" "It''s my life''s work." Sam responded quickly. "Can you describe a little about what those systems are and how they work? Without revealing anything too proprietary?" Yuni coaxes Sam further.
Sure. Artificially Intelligent Logistical Export Planning systems: these are hyper intelligent machine learning algorithms that monitor and manage networks. I engineered and patented them with my team. We pioneered the research. I never went public with all the findings or the updated versions. The A.I.-LEP systems work by feeding data into a customized algorithmic node network, ask it questions, and it exports answers and plans for implementation. The servers must be set up and customized properly, and that¡¯s the hard part. But when done properly, the answers may include action plans and steps to reach specific goals as you''ve defined them, or it may suggest changes to make other systems and/or networks gain efficiencies. These other ¡®networks¡¯ could be neighborhoods, communities, large groups, cities, committees, or states at large. It is the most powerful A.I. system in the world. But an oracle is only as powerful as the questions you ask it. So anyway, trade and the delivery of goods are handled at armed checkpoints. They pay in clean water, or clean $100 US bills. Cash is still king in the wild west. Water is his priest. Nobody seems able to get in or out, unless perhaps you look the part. There are designated liaisons from each tribe, typically the chief or an elder with entourage, and only they are allowed to travel outside the checkpoints into the country at large. They rarely do. The UTN stretches wide and vast. It runs in line above the I-40 interstate, following about three to seven miles north along the rail tracks. All the way from outside of Kingman to almost Albuquerque. It encompasses the greater four-corners area. A southwestern chunk of Colorado, a fair slice of southeastern Utah, a swath of northern Arizona, and the northwestern triangle of New Mexico up into the southern Rocky Mountains. Between all these lands, they control over 40,120 square miles of earth. All the small highways and roads exiting off of the main interstates are relentlessly maintained with checkpoints and gates; always manned by a large company of UTWA with armaments. They strategically blew up a handful of bridges and roads on specific routes north. This way they don¡¯t have to patrol or maintain every corridor. Their logistical organization and their action plan is incredible. Like I said, their execution of the plan is even more incredible...¡± Sam shrugs as he trails off, done with his stream of thought. ¡°So, there you go. That''s about it. I¡¯m just about ready for tomorrow. Most voting members attending the meeting know about this recent history. I hope they vote to destroy that gunkwick camp up on the mesa. I hope they kill every last one of those damn¡ª¡±
[END TRANSCRIPT] She cut him off. Right after collapsing the holo-capture device Yunipter questioned him with indignation, ¡°Don¡¯t say that shit on the holoset recordings!¡± She scolded him. But it was said with such familiarity. Sam frowned and deflected his chin. Then she moved closer. He felt her warmth. They are alone and staring at each other. It was a moment they both had thought about, hoped for, even fantasized over but without ever telling. It felt like d¨¦j¨¤ vu. Before their lips met, a two-person chorus of simultaneous words, ¡°I¡¯m having dej¨C¡± interrupted by the unison, then the electricity of a first kiss. They¡¯d never been so close, or with anyone else for so long. Skin to skin, nothing between their bodies, feeling safe, secure from any intrusion.
[2.5] Rules of Order Rules of Order ~ [2.5]
He¡¯s ready to finish up the presentation. Yuni watched Sam Woodhouse take the last shot of his e/n-fluid from the shelf in the podium. She could tell he wasn¡¯t looking forward to the rest of the proceedings. She knew he felt guilty for maintaining the facade of impartiality. He was doing a good job of it. She felt a deep affection for him, now after the other night of course, but from a deeper place. Like noticing something that¡¯s been there for a while¡ªmaybe forever¡ª a feeling, a new understanding for oneself. It¡¯s invisible on the outside but swirling within her. Sam continued on, ¡°Our tunnels are fortified with gear, rations, and weapons. They do not know about our committee of water families, they don¡¯t know about our artillery and defense capabilities, and they don¡¯t know about the seven wells. You¡¯ve all done amazing work at pooling these resources and stocking these reserves and supplies. ¡°I think everyone here would agree, this should not be done out of vengeance, nor revenge. The only reason to conduct this operation would be for a tertiary and strategic objective. So, what is it?¡± Some hands went up, but he continued. ¡°Let¡¯s discuss pros and cons, in two categories. Let¡¯s think in terms of an immediate timeline, and a future timeline two or three years out. Then we¡¯ll compare and cross reference with the best and worst case outcomes. The first list assumes a 90%+ success rate on the mission. ¡°Yuni, can you help me diagram this with a holoscreen?¡± She wasn¡¯t expecting to be invoked into the effort. Without a word or much movement at all, she threw a blank holographic screen up behind Sam. It looked like an old whiteboard, except it was translucent and you could make out the wall and things behind it. You can ¡®write¡¯ on it with a finger. Thumbs work as an ¡®eraser.¡¯ He went on to outline the pros and cons of the decision to run the special operation raid on the gunkwick camp. He started by listing an initial pair of bullet points in a table with two columns.
Pros: Cons:
??? Revenge, retaliation ??? Revenge, retaliation
¡°I sympathize with how angry we all are about the gunkwick. So let¡¯s put this up here and recognize where we all agree. And recognize how these cancel out.¡± Sam crossed out these first two items. The room offered more ideas as Woodhouse mediated and updated the list.
Pros:???? Cons:
??? Revenge, retaliation ??? Revenge, retaliation
??? Negotiation ??? Protracted response
??? Retreat, loosen restrictions ??? Loose some local support
??? Buy us time to organize ??? They retaliate with the regional guard
It was more a constructive conversation than moderated debate. The meeting¡¯s progress was going well. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to explain this but I think it will go a long way in sending a message,¡± Lorenzo Singana tried to reiterate. ¡°The message that we know what they did, we know they¡¯re responsible for the destruction of our town, and to know we won¡¯t put up with their subversive shit,¡± he pointed at nobody all over the room. Sam wrote two more bullet items. ¡°I think this is important.¡± Sam continued Lorenzo¡¯s point. ¡°If we show them a forceful response, they¡¯ll be much more likely to engage in future negotiations. It may send a message to the commissioners in Denver. That their contractors are going to end up starting a war if they keep ruining lives and destroying towns like ours.¡± ¡°What if that¡¯s the point?¡± said Daeja. ¡°What if they want to start a war?¡± ¡°Then it¡¯s moot and we should prepare to fight sooner than later,¡± Lorenzo had a rapid and passionate retort. ¡°Hang on,¡± Noah Ashurst wanted a turn. ¡°Am I the only one here who thinks they didn¡¯t intend for the fires to get so bad? They just stuck to the withholding rules and covered up their operation to burn out the central distribution center, if that¡¯s even true. Maybe the whole thing was planned, but possibly not. And either way, I would bet the commissioners in Denver have no idea what these contractors are up to around here. Despite what they were or weren¡¯t trying to do.¡± ¡°So what would you do? Go report something and raise issue with the regional commissioners office,¡± Lorenzo scoffs, ¡°tip them off to the families and the organization?¡± ¡°And I want to reiterate one thing,¡± Sarra broke into Noah¡¯s thought, ¡°they don¡¯t know about our special council or any of us,¡± Sarra Bennet surprised Sam with her measured tone. It was a brilliant mitigation of Noah¡¯s point. ¡°Dr. Woodhouse explained how our privilege right now lies in our autonomy and the anonymity of our clandestine plans. They won''t know who did this or what happened. If the plan is a success, the rest of the local gunks will just find a bunch of their own soldiers, dead and gone by the time they get there. They''ll launch an investigation. But what could they ever find?¡± ¡°They won¡¯t know what hit ¡®em.¡± Lorenzo can¡¯t stop. ¡°Okay. Okay. Those are all fair points. But I want to add one last thing. It might be the most important consideration. I¡¯ve been waiting to explain it. We are guaranteed to retrieve valuable information if the operation goes according to plan. And that¡¯s something we can talk more about.¡± Sam added to the list.
Pros: Cons:
??? Revenge, retaliation ??? Revenge, retaliation
??? Negotiation ??? Protracted response
??? Retreat, loosen restrictions ??? Loose some local support
??? Buy us time to organize ??? They retaliate with the regional guard
??? Message of dominance??
??? Gather information
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Here¡¯s something,¡± Abineau jumped in as Sam was writing, ¡°the regional guard won¡¯t deploy or retaliate. That¡¯s almost guaranteed. It could set off a wave of protests and domestic friction around the entire Trident. It would be a last resort. The gunkwick commissioners will more likely petition to be warranted for arrest and search instead. There was talk last year about pushing to get contractors deputized through the regional police. But that¡¯s a lot of legal muck for them to dredge through. So, I would put that last item with the first bullet point ¡®protracted response.¡¯ They¡¯re at least eighteen months out from that happening, if ever. And then they¡¯ll still have to go through a warrant and search process. Investigations, et cetera, et cetera.¡± ¡°Well either way, what if this leads to them expanding the contractors¡¯ authority and scope?¡± Pat Cline from city council looks to Daeja for confirmation. Abineau responded with humble authority, ¡°I think the commissioners and regional government will be more inclined to take a hard look at what their contractors are doing before going that route.¡± Mike Schiento spoke up for the first time since the beginning, ¡°Dr. Woodhouse, tell us more about our potential to gather information.¡± ¡°Yes. Well, at the very least we would gather more answers about the Moon Fire and how it started. We flew a HAIED unit last Thursday at 3:30am. What we saw was a good sized camp with some gear and supplies which were undoubtedly removed before they evacuated the barracks at the water station. Probably the night before the fire started. I believe they might still be running their mine server from the vacated astronomy compound up there. I think they¡¯re trying to run the data analysis on station usage, or who knows what? But if we capture their data mine, we would find out if they are looking for¡ªput it this way. We¡¯d find out if they¡¯re onto us. We¡¯ll be able to reverse-compress the mirror drive and see their entire regional data set, plans, contracts, and everything else on their western regional network, up to the point we power it down and retrieve it, whatever night the operation would occur.¡± ¡°If the operation occurs,¡± Noah Ashurst shows his hand. ¡°And if they even have their data mine up there!¡± Pat said in quick solidarity with Noah. The room was quiet once again. This should¡¯ve sealed the deal, Sam thought. Except for Noah and Pat¡¯s bookend on the point he was trying to make. Most people would know about MetaWebCapture devices. These are used to hack into a network in a way that¡¯s like taking a picture at a given point in time. You can access web servers, sites, and hidden data sets as they were the day you ¡®took the picture.¡¯ Some MWC devices can be hooked up to data mine servers and functional readout equipment. The gunkwick contractors use basic encryption methods. This isn¡¯t surprising to Sam. ¡°We¡¯d find out if they know anything about the households.¡± Geoff Ashurst resubmits. ¡°And then they¡¯ll know that we know about their intell.¡± Daeja furthers her point from a different angle. ¡°I think that would still yield an opportunity for us, added leverage,¡± said Trevor Ashurst, the eldest Ashurst brother gave his take with a deep and resonant voice. Daeja scoffs with a quick head movement. Sam finished the list.
Pros: Cons:
??? Revenge, retaliation ??? Revenge, retaliation
??? Negotiation ??? Protracted response
??? Retreat, loosen restrictions ??? Loose some local support
??? Buy us time to organize ??? They retaliate with the regional guard
??? Message of dominance?? ??? Unknowns per their intel and strategy
??? Gather information
??? Leverage
They¡¯re getting through the tedious meeting agenda. The next topic to review is the general raid strategy plan. This would be an important and non-contentious part of the conversation. They won¡¯t be debating the actual plan for the raid. Just reviewing before the vote. This took another 37 minutes. Sam was nearing the final stretch. As they approached hour four of the briefing, there had been some notable questions, and an honest debate broke out twice more but never got out of control. It''s time for Samuel to boil it all down and condense the arguments. ¡°The last thing I want to describe here before your vote¡ªlet''s paint a final picture of worst case scenarios compared to the best case outcomes.¡± Sam then explained how he derived his hypothetical outcomes, and how he¡¯s thinking about this in terms of immediate results combined with a three-year projection. ¡°Obviously the worst case is if the mission fails. Our special ops don¡¯t come home. One or more get captured and interrogated. And they find us out. Including the wells on your properties, your families. It¡¯s game over in this case. Everyone in this room¨Cmaybe except for city council members¨Cgoes into hiding or you try to get access into Idatopia or the Alamex.¡± ¡°If this fails it will just expedite what¡¯s already going to happen!¡± shouts Trevor Ashurst. Woodhouse continues before another interruption. ¡°That¡¯s likely but not guaranteed. Listen¨C a best case scenario is manifold. If the operation goes perfectly, they¡¯ll never know what happened. Or who. They will fortify the remaining depot in town and partially retreat east to Winona, or maybe all the way to Holbrook. They¡¯ll definitely maintain use of Fort Tuthill because of the proximity to the airport and strategic position relative to town. They will then regroup and try to figure out how best to approach and reestablish. No doubt they¡¯ll be in touch with the city council and try and figure out what you all know. I¡¯m not worried about that. Even when it comes to those not in favor. I think there¡¯s enough checks and balances in this group to prevent a betrayal.¡± Murmuring presides during a short pause as Sam takes a step back to collect his speech. He continues, ¡°In a best case scenario, they renegotiate the rations up here and with the farms down in Paulden. They¡¯ll open the central distribution again and hopefully back off. This will give us more autonomy with the residents. I mean, we all know they aren¡¯t sanctioned to conduct military operations or retaliate in any direct way. They will realize they don¡¯t have all the power. They barely have a lid on this thing as it is. We all know this, and Doyle has shown us how slim their margins are.¡± Sam rubbed his eyes, fighting his fatigue. He¡¯s almost done. ¡°However, a worse case would be if they got sanctioned for ¡®use of force¡¯ protocols. Even if they can¡¯t figure out who conducted the operation, they would come back into our town with a heavy hand. That¡¯s for sure. But even still, they¡¯ll have warrant restrictions. They¡¯ll be careful not to instigate.¡± Steve Robertson spoke up for the first time since the session began, ¡°Like Daeja said, what if our operation leads to them getting the u-force protocols approved?¡± The question wasn¡¯t meant to be rhetorical, but that¡¯s how the room took it. Including Woodhouse. To Sam, it feels like they¡¯re going around in circles now. His response was to pan the room once from right to left. It¡¯s not his question to answer. That¡¯s what the vote is for. He¡¯s left nothing back, except for the secret beneath the telescope house. As he scanned the faces, Mike was staring at him like a statue. Did he know? He was now concluding, ¡°I honestly think these are all fair considerations. And I¡¯ll end with this. From my analysis, the worst downside is obviously complete failure of the operation. The result of which is unknown, yet potentially manageable. But there¡¯s a lot of upside to even a semi-successful operation. All-in-all, we have good odds of conducting a completely successful mission. That¡¯s the conclusion of my data.¡± Beto Singana spoke with inquisition, ¡°Can you put a number to those odds, doctor?¡± Dr. Woodhouse replied without much hesitation, ¡°I¡¯ve calculated an 87% - 93% chance of complete success. TJ thinks it¡¯s more.¡± There was a majority of calmness percolating through a quiet room. It was mostly because everyone was so tired.
[2.6] A Final Vote A Final Vote ~ [2.6]
When Steve Robertson realized the room was ready to move on without further debate, he continued to the next phase of the proceedings. ¡°As decreed in the rules of our committee, every person gets an individual vote. It¡¯s up or down. No runoffs.¡± With the vote finally on the horizon, the room woke up and exhaled. ¡°Now, we have an issue tonight with one of our members. You may have noticed, the honorable Mr. Haruki Schiento is not here. He is now bedridden. And as you know, our bi-laws dictate that all members get to vote on every principle decision unless or until they are removed by the committee. Tonight certainly qualifies as a principle decision. So, Michael Schiento has provided me with a sealed envelope containing the vote of his father.¡± Robertson held up a meticulously hand-folded paper envelope with a wax seal. Imprinted into the turquoise wax was their family symbol. Steve continued, ¡°Having known Haruki Schiento for many years, I would also submit to the committee that the artistic folding of this note and the wax look the same as letters I¡¯ve received for years¨C and recently. Others here can probably confirm this. But here¡¯s where we¡¯re at. We need a motion to proxy in this vote for Mr. Schiento.¡± Doyle Abineau completes Steve¡¯s thought on this. ¡°Yuni is the only non-voter here, except for our guest. My only guidance would be that Yunipter is the appropriate proxy. And that the note may be authenticated at the request of any committee member.¡± Sarra Bennit submits the motion, ¡°I propose a motion to elect Yunipter Robertson as proxy for Mr. Haruki Schiento.¡± Abineau presides, ¡°Is there a secondary sponsor to the motion?¡± Multiple sounds of ¡°I second the motion¡± and ¡°second¡± can be heard around the room. Abineau continued, ¡°There are multiple sponsors to the motion. On a voice vote without prejudice, all who support the motion say ¡®aye.¡¯¡± It¡¯s loud enough to be definitive. ¡°All who decline the motion say ¡®nay.¡¯¡± There are a few quiet voices sticking to contrarian positions. Most of them coming from near the city council group. They assume to know Haruki¡¯s decision inside that paper, and they¡¯re playing politics to suppress it. There seems no need to challenge the note¡¯s authenticity. ¡°The motion is approved,¡± says Steve as he passes the sealed note to his daughter.
Robertson and Abineau moved to conduct the official vote on the matter at hand: to approve a secretive special operative raid on the gunkwick camp atop Mars Mountain. It¡¯s an anonymous paper balloting process. Before leaving they will sign their names to the decision. After three rounds and nine total reviews from three separate tallies, the result remains. A Dead. Excruciating. Tie. FOURTEEN to FOURTEEN Daeja Allen submits a motion to break the tie. ¡°I propose a motion to designate Samuel Woodhouse as honorary voter to this proceeding.¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Abineau fills his responsibility with the expected question to the group, ¡°is there a second petitioner to this motion?¡± ¡°I second the motion!¡± Steve said with definition. The room erupted with controversy. Some city council members are complaining that Steve, as Chairman, doesn¡¯t have the authority to second a motion. Some Ashurst brothers are yelling about his personal relationships and how he should recuse himself on the motion altogether. The Singana son, Beto, stands up and wrangles the entire crowd with one big, ¡°Que pasa!¡± ¡°What are we doing?! How else does anyone here propose we break this tie? Having TJ participate would be worse. He leads the special ops team. You don¡¯t think that¡¯s a conflict of interest?! We need a decision tonight!¡± Beto then scowls, crosses his arms and pans the room. ¡°I second the motion.¡± The group takes a full roll call vote on the motion itself. Yunipter¡¯s real-time tally shows on the holoscreen.
16 (yea) 11 (nay)
¡°The motion to elect Samuel Woodhouse to the committee as honorary voter for tonight¡¯s proceeding is approved,¡± Steve confirms. ¡°Now, it¡¯s past four in the morning. Unless there¡¯s another point of order on this, we aren¡¯t going through another round of balloting again. So, Sam, give us your thumb. Up or down. What¡¯s your vote here.¡± For a moment Samuel Woodhouse convinced himself he wasn¡¯t completely sure. He didn¡¯t think it would be a tie vote. How did this become his responsibility? Mike and Doyle mentioned it weeks ago, joking about it as a remote possibility. But they thought Yuni would be called upon instead. Nobody in this room had ever commissioned an execution. And now he is the sole executioner. The ¡®commissioner.¡¯ Dozens would die for his choice. He wonders how many would die either way. It felt like power. It made him want to puke. He held out his fist, hesitated, and pointed his thumb to the ceiling. Steve Robertson knew exactly how this whole night would play out¡­ well before Sam stumbled into city hall looking late. *** There will be no official record of this proceeding. All digital captures will be encrypted and stored offweb. After Sam¡¯s vote they printed a document that was read aloud and signed by all members. It was a narrow and long paper with the text authorizing and describing the operation to take place on the subsequent new moon. There was a column of signatures for the yay votes, and a column of nays. After it was signed by everyone, Doyle Abineau retrieved the burning pan from the cabinet under the coffee maker. A few individuals spoke quietly with reflection. He held the paper while Steve Robertson lit an ancient zippo lighter. They touched its flame to a corner. Watching it burn the room was finally silent, and calm. After the last flame suffocated, Steve announced, ¡°meeting adjourned.¡± ***
Three Schientos When the three Shientos arrived home in the early morning twilight, Mike¡¯s wife Pam and his mother were on either side of him. Walking up from the drive, they split up where the stone path parted from the main way. ¡°Good night, mother Schiento,¡± Pam said with sweetness in her heart. ¡°I¡¯ll help you around, mom,¡± Mike gave Pam¡¯s hand a squeeze. She nodded back. He helped his mom navigate the trail around the house to their large guest suite opposite the garage. It¡¯s dark around the side yard. The raised stones could be dangerous at night, especially for someone her age. He meant to stake in some solar ground lights last week. It¡¯s unlike Michael Schiento to not follow through on something like that. ¡°Mother, the sun is coming up soon. It was a long night. You were strong and wise. Just go to bed now. I¡¯ll look in on dad.¡± ¡°Okay Mikey.¡± She whispered in reply. ¡°I¡¯ll come back and check on you in a minute.¡± He watched his frail mother retreat into her own quarters. When she closed the door to a crack, he walked over to his father¡¯s study. They¡¯d set up a comfortable bedded area on the ground for him in the corner, by his book shelf. It was his particular request to be among his own books and memories. Haruki Schiento was emphatic about being in his own personal space, and how it would bring him as much joy and hope possible while combating so much pain. Michael took a deep breath and entered. Three candles painted the room with a warm amber tint. The others had all gone out. Kneeling down beside the bedding, he then pulled the sheet down to uncover his father¡¯s pale and colorless face, to see it once again. As a tear rolled down his cheek Michael said, quietly broken, ¡°everyone missed you tonight, dad. We¡¯re all going to miss you, for ever.¡± He blew out the three remaining candles. With the first one he saw the heavy light become soft. With the second he watched the dancing shadows become slow. With the third, he felt earth¡¯s gravity lift into the darkness. Mike Schiento left the lifeless room and silently closed the door. He went to wish his mother a good night, but she was already out. She''ll sleep past lunch at this point. He¡¯ll wait until late tomorrow to say anything to Pam or his mom. He¡¯ll wait two days before telling anyone on the council.
[2.7] D茅j脿 Vu
D¨¦j¨¤ vu [RESEARCH NOTES FROM THE EARLY WRITINGS OF STEVEN E ROBERTSON, RECOVERED FROM THE YUNIPTER ENCRYPTION: NFT FILE no. <01.14.046/D7.X3.P1>] Scientific literature indicates that d¨¦j¨¤ vu is a temporary chemical mix of neurotransmitters that create the perceptual pathway of recalling a memory rather than experiencing the current moment, well¡­ currently. This also implies a momentary ¡®artificial state.¡¯ But how can one experience an ¡®artificial¡¯ state if the phenomenon is occurring with and within our evolved biological hardware? What if our entire lives were experienced with this alternate perceptual pathway? What if everyday felt like a recurring dream? What if this were the ¡®true¡¯ perception, as opposed to our amnesiatic-like status quo? This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Our current perception is a hallucination. Albeit one that we become comfortable with and accustomed to. During a substance induced hallucination, it¡¯s just another state of chemical experience. Many hallucinogenic compounds and nootropic formulae are naturally occurring, even produced in small amounts by our own bodies. So, it¡¯s really a question of homeostatic balance. If our balanced state were different due to some evolutionary path, perhaps you would be experiencing reality in a completely different way, and experiencing that as the norm! If our brains developed an evolutionary trick to experience the world the way we do, perhaps it was due to negative selection or genetic drift. Maybe we evolved out of and away from a more ¡®true paradigm.¡¯ The feeling and understanding that we¡¯ve all done this before could be the norm. We¡¯ve all been here before, ¡®perhaps¡¯ at the very least. We¡¯ve made the same mistakes already, and we almost always repeat these experiences in similar ways. As they say, history rhymes. Perhaps otherwise we¡¯d learn our lessons instead of reviewing them over and over. Perhaps then we¡¯d stop repeating history¡¯s evil rhymes, but continue to sing its sweetest spells. ***