CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
"It may be that our role on this planet is not to worship God but to create him." - Arthur C. Clarke
Over the next few weeks Harry learned how immense the Touchable organization was as he assisted with the education of new members. As he passed unto them wisdom of the ages that he had gleaned from history books and other ancient sources, his presence had a reassuring effect on the local believers, his confidence and wisdom being passed on to the entire Touchable population. He trained others to lead discussion groups to generate new ideas as well as share and grow existing ones; brainstorming, he had heard it called.
He saw himself as one of them, yet he was not. He immersed himself in the tranquil rebel stronghold, honing his skills as a communicator. By becoming invaluable to them as a teacher, and learning everything he could, he hoped it would make up for whatever harm he might do in the future.
Barry had told him that Touchables in the city only numbered 40,000, but that worldwide their numbers were much larger. He found that community to be much larger than he had thought possible—millions strong. Comparatively speaking 40,000 was a small portion of like-minded dissidents, considering the city's Insider population was roughly forty million.
.
Harry found living Outside a remarkable and mostly pleasurable experience, fraught with fear, excitement and a surprising amount of variety. He relished the Touchables' return to the past. As promised, Barry had allowed him as much freedom to come and go as he wanted—within limits. Although he was unaware of it, Harry was constantly under surveillance by other Touchables. His every move was scrutinized and his motivation was examined by Emotives who were part of the surveillance team. His team showed bemused interest in reporting his favorite activity—shopping.
Harry suspected he was drawn to the underground shops because all his life, he had been given so few choices. Makr or someone had always made those choices for him. Once it had been his parents or teachers, now it was Barry and his Touchables. He wondered where Makr fitted in and how much control he ever really had.
Underground shopping was just that. Under the city lay a network of Touchable and Outsider splinter groups that bartered goods—Cyber credits were no good down here. The ancient art of conducting business, the buying and selling of products and services, Harry remembered, had been outlawed when Cyber had made it impossible for Man to be exposed to others.
When that happened over time, and with Cyber monitoring product quality and ensuring production efficiency and cost effectiveness, there soon became little difference between brands, and then none at all. All products had become the same. A few had been modified to prevent allergic reactions for some people, but they were essentially the same in quality and cost. Inside, raw materials became finished products, virtually untouched by human hands until in the home.
Naturally, Inside, cyberts did all the so-called shopping. Harry noted from his hobby research that shopping had been termed by Cyber scientists an amoral addiction, for women in particular. Obsessions for men, it seemed, were gambling and sports. Those obsessions had been removed when they were found to be significant influences responsible for societal ills such as collapsing the family unit and contributing to criminal acts. Drugs and alcohol were rendered impotent after a few seconds and non-addicting. Of course, there had been many more instances where Bio contact and influence alone were linked to various problems in society, and as each contact problem had become known, it was summarily dropped from society, outlawed by benevolent socialism.
Outsiders visiting the underground market discovered the man-made environment was unlike any other Makr reality and they savored a delightful feast of experiences. With no currency to purchase items, bartering was the primary method with which to purchase goods. Harry traded his time lecturing on historical trivia for products—food products mostly; he couldn't get enough of the unhealthy Bio-handled, cooked dishes.
Food vendors deliberately fanned the cooking pots and microwaves to apportion the aromas, while cooking an array of favorite foods. They also loved to talk and there was much laughter and talking. While a few traded in order to survive, no one could get rich—if there was such a thing —but it was fun to share the wealth of one's discoveries with newfound friends. No one was ever a stranger once you met them in the underground market. As far as Harry was concerned, in spite of his relative captivity, the same could be said for the Watering Hole.
While it was a positive experience for most, some Bios fresh from the Inside, shunned the sellers and never bought or traded a thing. Even the Emotives couldn't predict who would enjoy the experience and who would be totally intimidated by the process and retreat back to the comfort of letting others decide for them.
To Harry, one group was noticeably absent: the Shadow People. Harry had not seen one since his first venture Outside. Desiree had said they wouldn't mix, that they preferred the company of their own and lived mostly off what they scavenged or stole. If they were here, he didn't know it.
Touchables, on the other hand, were friendly enough once they got over their initial fears. Those who couldn’t face those fears ever came back. It had crossed Harry's mind - and those of others - that some of those who didn't come back may have been caught and eliminated by the cyberts. Most people ignored these unpleasant thoughts and enjoyed this moment in their lives without complication. As for his own captivity, he couldn't say being a prisoner here was all that bad, but he did wonder if Makr was making an active search for him or if he had just been written off as insignificant. He hoped for the latter.
Drawn by the wonderful smells, Harry stopped at a stall offering unusual and potentially dangerous food fare. The proprietor assured him his dishes were completely unhealthy, but well worth the risk. Harry made his choice. As he tried to stuff the whole delicious dish—a tortilla stuffed with all kinds of unhealthy cholesterol, sugars and fats—in his mouth, he spied Dar at the food booth next to him. She looked his way. He nearly choked as he tried to withdraw out of sight, and hastily ate the rest of his meal. Oh no, he thought, she mustn't see me like this! Swallowing the last mouthful, he anxiously wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stepped back into view to find Dar once more, but she'd vanished.
He turned back toward the vendor.
"Hi, Harry," said Dar, who was suddenly inches from his face. Startled, he jumped back a little, but recovered quickly. She laughed. Then they both did.
"Darlene, isn't it? I'm glad to see you. How are you?"
Harry was trying hard to appear casual.
"Very well, Harry. Thank you. How 'bout yourself?" She was practicing the small talk, too.
"Fine. Great. I've missed you. I wanted to see you again." That did it. Harry had said what was on his mind.
"So did I," she said without hesitation.
Without a word he reached for her hand. She accepted his warmly. As they walked hand in hand, smiling contentedly throughout the underground, Harry sensed something was missing. It was an odd feeling really, and it appeared mutual. Neither felt the rush of a blooming affair, or the surge of adrenalin that spurs the body to quiver with sexual excitement, and yet they were comfortable with each other. Maybe that is all there is for now, Harry thought, but he hoped there would be more.