“Benefits,” Maxis said softly. “Benefits. Benefits...”
“Sir?”
“I have it,” he said a moment later. “I’ve got a clever plan that will undermine those malcontents. We’ll allow the workers to form a union. Thorne, you set it up for the cafeteria sometime on Sunday. Make sure word gets out, too.”
“How does that help?”
“Simple. We’ll let them form this union to negotiate this break thing. Only when they come to negotiate, we’ll offer them lousy terms. No break restoration for six months.”
“They’ll refuse.”
“No. Either they accept, or we refuse to ever restore the break period. And we tell them that any other negotiations will be at our discretion, or we make half of Sunday a work day. That should shut them up.”
“That is a pretty clever plan, sir,” Thorne said.
“No, it isn’t,” Jake said. He let out a laugh. “Now, how to phrase it? Yes.” He remembered a favorite video from his youth, Black Adder. He took on the voice of the main character, his becoming at once English, intelligent, smug, and just a bit mean. “Maxis wouldn’t know a clever plan if it painted itself purple and danced through the corridors singing, ‘Clever plans are here again.’” Returning to his normal voice, he said, “Odin, monitor the rest of the meeting. I think I’ll give the Rosens a call.”
***
The following Sunday evening Thorne went to see Maxis in his quarters. His superior was surprised by the visit, and by the discouraged look on his face. “Come in, come in. What’s wrong?”
Thorne sat down across from Maxis. “That union thing was a flop.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t anyone show up?”
Thorne laughed bitterly. “Oh, sure. Five workers came in five minutes after the meeting was supposed to start.”
“Five?”
“Yeah, five. These five were the absolute dregs, I gotta tell you. The low end of the mining operation. Do you know why they bothered to show up?”
“No, why?”
Thorne shook his head. “They thought this union would be their chance to climb out of the dirt. They all said they wanted to be in charge of the union so everyone else would look up to them. They didn’t care about negotiations. They just wanted to get ahead.”
“So why didn’t anyone else show up? This was a good plan.”
“I dunno. Maybe they didn’t trust me. I mean, even if I didn’t say so, everyone knew I was trying to get it organized. Maybe that spooked them.”
“So we try again. Only we get some workers to organize it.”
“Who? The proles that showed up today? Who do we find that won’t keep his or her mouth shut? Because if whoever we get starts blabbing, what happened today happens again.”
“Damn! So what do we do?”
“I say we give in on this break thing and hope that shuts them up for awhile. Maybe Tina can juggle the books a bit so profits don’t get eaten up as much. I’ll see if I can figure out how we can put this thing down before it gets out of hand.”
“You do that. We’ve got a good thing going here. If it goes to Hell, it’s gonna be everyone for himself.”
***
The next morning Jake and Evvie discussed the rebellion’s first collective success. At one point she asked him about how he’d managed to undermine Maxis’ plan. “I mean, great for our side and all,” she said, “and that was real smooth, getting those guys to dress like they did and say what they said.”
“Is there a point somewhere?”
“Well, I was just wondering if you thought shooting down Maxis like that was kinda mean?”
“Of course it was mean. He is the enemy, Evvie.”
“I know, I know.”
“And don’t think for a moment that he wouldn’t try something just like that to beat us. Revolutions aren’t pretty, and there can be only one winner. You have to break eggs to make an omelet, y’know.”
“Yeah. What’s an omelet?”
Ten
Blows To The Head
“Start tapping into the feeds, Odin,” Jake said. He sat down on the couch on the lower bridge. The big screen in front of him came to life with an image of the cafeteria in the main dome. Smaller images from other security cameras focused on the same room appeared in boxes at the top of the screen.
Evvie entered the room an instant later carrying a medium-sized bowl. She sat down on the couch, keeping some space between her and Jake.
Jake looked at her, then at the bowl. It was filled with what appeared to be chocolate-covered popcorn. “This isn’t a movie, y’know,” he said to her, still looking at the bowl.
“Hey, I’ve been on strict regimen on the tour. I haven’t had this in over a year.”
Jake frowned for a moment. On the one hand, he was pleased that she was indulging in real teenaged behavior. On the other, he was displeased that this was the time for such behavior. He opted to go with the latter feeling and said, “This is work, Evvie, not entertainment.”
“I know. But it’s gonna be boring, and I’ll fall asleep if I don’t have something to eat while I watch. I’ll share, if you want some.”
“No thanks. Just eat quietly.” Jake’s attention returned to the screen.
The image in front of them showed a gathering of people in the cafeteria. The Rosens were in the center of the assembly, but not giving orders. They were leaving that duty to the “committee” that had organized the pending march. Once the committee was certain no one else was going to show up, they began handing out signs with slogans on them.
“I did those,” Evvie told Jake.
“Did what?”
“Those signs.”
Jake looked. The signs demanded restoration of breaks, reduction of work periods, and better treatment overall. They appeared to be lacking in obvious teenage touches like cute lettering and frivolous colors. “You designed and printed those yourself? I’m impressed.”
“Well, Odin helped with the production.”
And no doubt restrained your inclinations, Jake thought. He mouthed “Thank you” to the upper deck of the bridge.
Once the dozen or so signs were distributed among the crowd, they formed into three lines. At a nod from one of the committee members, the lines began to move through the cafeteria towards one of the corridors. The leaders of the march began to chant, “Hey hey, ho ho, unfair treatment’s got to go.” A moment later the rest of the marchers picked up on the chant.
“Where are the guards and the bots?” Evvie asked.
“Odin?”
“The guardbots are withdrawn from areas once an area has ceased being occupied,” the computer said. “No doubt after tonight that policy will be reviewed.”
“And the guards?”
“Currently trying to obtain orders.”
“Keep us informed,” Jake instructed.
The marchers entered the corridor that led to the quarters of the various foremen. The dome’s corridors generally radiated out from a central point, then connected these spokes with an outer rim corridor. It was a standard feature of such domes that allowed residents to get anywhere on a level without having to worry about their main access corridor being blocked. In this instance, it allowed the marchers to head past those quarters and return to the cafeteria without having to turn around and retrace their steps.
Odin arranged the view on the screen so that the front of the march was the large view. The smaller images were side and back views. As the marchers approached the end of the corridor he replaced one of the side views to an image of the cafeteria. It showed a half-dozen guards assembled around one of the executives. Once the guards were in place the executive led them along the route the marchers had taken.
“Is this going to get nasty?” Evvie asked.
“I doubt it,” Jake said.
“They are armed, y’know.”
“They haven’t drawn their blasters. As long as the marchers don’t pick a fight, not
hing’s going to happen.”
As it was, the guards had to jog to catch up with the protest march, which had now turned into the rim corridor. When they reached that spot the executive spoke into a wrist communicator, asking for further instructions. He held the wristcomm to his ear; Jake wondered if this was because whoever was giving the orders wasn’t Maxis, and hadn’t bothered to tell him what was going on. The executive nodded, then motioned for the guard to continue the pursuit.
It wasn’t long before word of the guard’s trailing of the march spread among the protesters. Nervousness tinged with fear dashed through the ranks until Clarissa spoke up. “Just keep doing like we planned,” she said loud enough so she could be heard. “Don’t look back, and don’t speak to the guards.”
The marchers turned at the next corridor, continued past some classrooms, and reentered the cafeteria. They switched from being in a line to forming a rough circle. They continued chanting as the guards followed them into the room.
The executive nodded to the guards. Three lined up on his left, and three did so on his right. They put their hands on their sidearms. “Stop this nonsense and return to your quarters,” he yelled.
The protesters went silent for an instant. Then on a cue from their leaders, they cheered. The sign holders waved their signs in the air. They waved to the guards and the executive, and promptly dispersed.
“What was that all about?” Evvie asked.
Jake smiled. “A little moral victory.”
“Huh?”
“That exec, and whoever’s giving him his orders, probably assumed that the protesters wouldn’t leave unless threatened, or that they’d have to use force to break it up. The cheer and the waves are to make it clear this was a peaceful protest. That’ll make any crackdown on the workers look bad, an overreaction to people peacefully demanding their rights.”
“That’ll make Maxis and his posse what? Confused? Scared?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh. I guess I’m getting the hang of this revolution thing,” she said proudly.
“I doubt that,” Jake muttered.
***
The next morning Jake was back on the upper bridge. He was partly plotting strategy, and partly waiting for Maxis to assemble his executives. Jake wanted to know how they’d react to the march so as to tailor the response. He was busy going over his options when Odin interrupted his train of thought.
“Jake, I think you should speak to Miss Martini.”
“Why?”
“I believe she’s attempting to make a contribution to this effort.”
“Good. A little hard work might be just what she needs.”
“I do not think you, or anyone else, would appreciate this contribution. In fact, it might be vital that you stop her.”
“Is she annoying you, Odin?”
“She is accessing my time and resources in a method that I believe would make you upset with both of us.”
Jake wondered if he was detecting desperation in Odin’s voice. “All right, I’ll talk to her. Where is she?”
“In her quarters.”
Jake rose from his seat and strode to her room. He tapped the door chime keypad. Evvie yelled “Come in,” and the door opened. He found her sitting on her bed, an open notebook of paper perched on her lap and a pen in her right hand.
I don’t like the looks of this.
“What are you up to, Evvie?”
She grinned. “I’m writing a song.”
“This is hardly the time...”
“No, no, a song for the revolution.”
“Excuse me?”
“Y’know, a song to inspire the people. A theme song, if you like.”
“I don’t like.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing, there isn’t going be any news on this until it’s over.”
“I know. This is just for the people down there. And maybe for the drama.”
“I doubt they need an anthem, Evvie.”
“Hey, you do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”
“I thought you didn’t write your own material.”
“Well, I helped on my last two singles. I do wanna write my own stuff.”
“Let me see.”
“I don’t know...”
“Let me see,” Jake repeated, louder and slower.
Evvie sighed and handed him her notebook. He gasped when he read the first two lines: “Freedom is worth fighting for,/ Abuse ain’t worth dying for.”
“What?”
“This beginning.”
“What’s wrong with my beginning?”
“For one thing, it’s a subtle as a brick through a window. I mean, this is a horrible opening to a song. At any rate, we are not a bunch of camouflage-clad guerrillas in the mountains of Podunkistan battling against the army of El Supremo the Dictator. This is a peaceful effort to remove a corrupt boss.”
Jake shook his head and continued reading. After suffering through the rest of the first stanza, he came to the rap-flavored chorus. It contained the phrase, “Can’t you see, we gotta be free/ It’s all about justice and liberty.”
“This chorus is lousy for a rap,” he said. “It’s also too obvious by a long shot. I mean, it’s not as if Maxis is openly against freedom and liberty. Again, this is not about dictatorship so much as it’s about corrupt and greedy management.”
“Well, skip to the end. Maybe you’ll like that.”
He exhaled, but soldiered on at his pace. He struggled through a bad second stanza, a worse third, an oddly noted dance interlude, then came to the “grand finale.” It consisted of the following four lines: “We all gotta have our rights/ We all gotta speak the truth/ You can’t suppress the dreams of age/ You can’t suppress the hopes of youth.” Jake found himself coughing after reading those lines, almost as if he was allergic to them.
“Now what?”
“Well, for starters, I now see why you don’t write your own material, Evvie. Those last four lines are just ridiculous! This ‘dreams of age’ thing makes absolutely no sense. The ‘hope of youth’ sounds juvenile. You’re almost skirting the edge of that old standard, ‘You gotta fight for the right to party.’
“Overall, this song veers wildly between being optimistic and being downbeat. It feels like the rhythm is off. The rhyming patterns don’t fit. It looks like it’s trying way too hard to be an anthem. I hate to say this, Evvie, because I have to admit that you are a nice person and a good singer, but this is a terrible song. Calling this a first draft is an insult to every bad first draft of a song ever written.
“Look, just do as I tell you to. If you have an idea for a contribution, ask me first. As much as you get on my nerves, I do appreciate your help, Evvie. If you insist on trying to help with stuff like this song, you’ll force me to edge you out of this. You don’t want to miss out on this opportunity, do you?”
“No.”
“Of course not. So just stick with the plan. If you’re nice, I might even help you become a better songwriter.” He handed the notebook back to her.
“I don’t know if I want your help if you’re gonna be mean.”
“No one likes constructive criticism until it proves correct.”
“Jake, the meeting is getting underway,” Odin said.
“Good. C’mon, Evvie. Let’s see what Maxis is going to do now.”
“Awright.” She followed him out of her room and back onto the bridge. They took their seats on the upper level and waited for Odin to begin the audio feed from the bug in the meeting room.
“All right, let’s look at it,” Maxis ordered. Apparently the first thing the executives were going to do was watch the footage of the march. The sounds of the march were low. Occasionally there would come over it a “hmph,” a murmur, or a whisper.
“How long is this gonna take?” Evvie asked.
“Shut up and listen,” Jake replied.
At length the video of the march reached the point where Clarissa urged calm w
hen the guards showed up. Someone close to the bug shifted in his seat. “Stop!” Maxis ordered. “Can you get a close-up on that woman?”
“I’ll try.” Odin’s real-time transcript identified the speaker as Morton, the head of Maxis’ guard force.
“I don’t like this,” Jake said. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“That’s Clarissa!” Maxis yelled a moment later.
“Who?” Thorne asked.
“Y’know, that chick that dumped me in high school for what’s his name, Danny Rosen.”
“That’s her?”
“Look at her.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Morton?”
“Just a moment, sir. Uh, it appears to be a Clarissa Rosen, of...”
“I knew it,” Maxis snapped, cutting Morton off.
“Uh, what should we do, sir? Pick her and her husband up?”
“Hang on. Let me think.”
Jake took his right hand from his chest and covered his face with it. “Odin, did either of the Rosens mention a prior relationship with Maxis at any point in our past conversations?”
“They did not.”
“Did you come across any evidence of a such a prior relationship?”
“I did not.”
“Swell. Just swell.”
“What’s the matter?” Evvie asked.
Jake was about to reply when he heard Maxis say “Okay.” He opened his hand and tilted his head to listen.
“Bring Clarissa in after dinner. Just her, got it? You question her for as long as you can. She probably won’t talk. Now, don’t do anything to her. If she doesn’t talk right off, wait half an hour. Leave her alone. Start up again. Keep that up till, say, midnight. Let her sleep a few hours, then try again. If she still doesn’t talk, let her go back to sleep. I’ll talk to her first thing tomorrow morning.”
“If she still won’t talk about all this?” Thorne asked.
“Then we’ll bring in that weasel husband of hers and threaten him. That should get her to tell us who’s trying to screw things up around here.”
“What are we going to do with them once we find them?”
“Well, we’ll just have to make a few examples, show those proles what happens when they get out of line. We’ll figure that out once we know who are the troublemakers, and who they’ve pressured into going along with them. Now, keep this quiet until tonight. Blabbermouths get demoted, got it? Good. Get back to work.”