The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma (19 page)

Eventually the left-wing radicals retreated against the onslaught of police thugs and soldiers, but additional grassroots movements arose in the following century, including the biggest of all, led by Rahma Popal's revolutionary council. Popal had learned lessons from the experiences of Mario Savio, Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, and other twentieth-century counterculture radicals, and had been able to go much, much further than they had, riding the crest of environmental and anti-Corporate waves. In the face of great adversity, the idealistic Popal had refused to retreat, and through courage and ingenuity he had won the ultimate victory.

On the Shattuck Street side of the old campus, Joss and his crew were stopped at a checkpoint by green-uniformed police officers. The crew showed their identification cards, then proceeded across the main square, passing the large fountain and the Campanile tower, and going through two more checkpoints. Joss noted scaffolding on several buildings, and workers busily repairing damage from a recent earthquake. Old bricks, stone blocks, and chunks of concrete were piled on the ground in several areas, for reuse by construction crews or for eco-friendly disposal.

At the far side of the square, Joss saw a high, opaque fence and gate, blocking any view of the worksite beyond. A Janus Machine was parked in front of the gate, with white-robed SciO technicians aboard it, checking the systems out. Both cannons were glowing, and the group was firing unloaded test capsules. The machine was an older model, with an ornate railing around the turret platform. It appeared to still have its original paint job, with a number of small dents, and showed signs of weathering.

“Looks like one of the Battle for Berkeley relics from two decades ago,” Kupi groused. “They must have pulled it out of a museum and refitted it. Look at that worn numeral on the side; it's old Number Two. And it has an old-style atomic reactor on the back.”

“It looks kind of beat, but I assume the operating systems are still good.”

“I hope the thing is safe,” Kupi said.

“I'm sure it is. We're in Berkeley, after all, the heartbeat of the Green States of America.”

Joss had already reviewed the assignment with Kupi, and now he took time to brief the rest of the crew. They gathered around him in their green-and-black uniforms, a short distance from the weathered old Janus Machine.

“This is a highly sensitive cleanup site,” Joss said. “Somehow the Corporate bastards tunneled underneath the old campus and buried industrial waste down there, barrels of really nasty, highly toxic stuff. The site was so well hidden, even from scanners, that our government didn't know it was there.”

“Until an earthquake ruptured the land open,” Kupi said, “bringing down walls and causing dangerous chemicals to leak out of the barrels, contaminating the ground and water.”

“The Corporates went to a lot of trouble and expense to build a tunnel and storage area,” one of the crewmen said, a man who passed his own helmet back and forth in his hands as he stood there. “Why would they do that?”

“Several reasons,” Kupi said. “First, they were under assault from environmentalists to deal with toxic wastes safely, and not to create them in the first place. Even before the Corporate War there were political victories against industrialists, forcing them to go to great expense to clean up their crap. It's all about money, isn't it? Obviously the bad guys found it was cheaper to tunnel under Cal Berkeley and hide the bad stuff where the environmentalists wouldn't think to look.”

“It was like thumbing their noses at the Greenies,” Joss said. “Maybe the Corporates even hoped an earthquake would eventually open things up and contaminate the area. Greenpol has been over the site with a fine-tooth comb, and they can't tell for certain where the stuff came from. The criminals covered their tracks well.”

“And now it's our job to clean up the mess,” Kupi said, “or should I say, it's my job. I need to aim straight, because there are historic buildings all around.”

“That's right,” Joss said, “and then I greenform a new park area. One more thing. All of us are sworn to secrecy about this job. The discovery of a toxic waste dump is an embarrassment to the administration, and they just want it fixed, with no fanfare. This is Ground Zero for the Green Revolution. They plan a cover story about the new park, saying it will be a new GSA rescue center for trumpeter swans, California condors, and other birds that need special protection.”

Joss led the way to the Janus Machine, where the SciO technicians were finishing up. He talked with the white-bearded foreman, who informed him that everything was in readiness with the exception of specialized cartridges of micro-organisms for the Seed Cannon, which were being prepared now at the Recharge Facility.

“Toxic wastes are leaching into the soil,” the foreman said, “so it's advisable for you to split the area as soon as possible. Then you can take the machine over to ReFac and get your seed cartridges loaded.”

“Right,” Joss said.

The SciOs departed, and he ordered his own crew to board the unit. Moments later, as Joss and Kupi stood on the turret platform, the gates opened, revealing a large, irregular area littered with building debris and toxic waste barrels, some of which were broken open. At least two historic buildings had been destroyed in the quake.

The Janus Machine rumbled over a short bridge that crossed a trench. Joss had already explained to his crew that the entire affected area was surrounded by new protective trenches, and he saw red flags fluttering around the perimeter, just inside the fencing. The gates closed behind them, to keep out prying eyes.

He and Kupi secured their owl-design helmets and dark goggles. She swung up onto the chair behind the black cannon barrel, and ran through test sequences on the control panel.

“Let's get this over with,” she said, shaking her head in dismay. “It's one of the most raggedy-looking J-Macs I've seen, but we have to assume the SciOs have checked it out.” She glanced back at him. “Any concerns, Commander?”

“Your sequences all check out?”

“They do. A little slow, but it's older technology. I think it's all right.”

“Get on with it, then,” Joss said.

He ordered the other crewmen to their stations, then stood behind Kupi while she tapped keys on the instrument console. The turret swung around noisily, so that the glistening black barrel was pointing at the farthest perimeter of the toxic waste site, where inspectors had placed a line of red flags. All of the on-site personnel hurried to safety zones behind clearplex blast barriers, and animals were cleared away with sonic devices. Then a special warning siren sounded to clear the area of human beings.

Joss and Kupi had discussed the tactics for this project, and agreed that she would seal that edge of the site with focal Splitter blasts to prevent further damage to the old campus beyond it, and then she would hit the site itself with a more powerful blast, preparing it for the infinitesimally tiny, customized greenforming micro-organisms that were being prepared now in ReFac.

“Black Thunder time,” Kupi said, over the comm-radio.

Joss secured the noise-dampening system inside his helmet, but still heard a low, gathering roar. Seconds ticked by, more than customary with the newer machines. Finally the black barrel spewed forth with waves of black particles, a fine pelting around the far edge of the site. Kupi turned the turret and did the same around all of the other edges. Then she fired larger blasts into the center, digging down and disintegrating all of the toxins and melting away every bit of debris, preparing the site for Joss.

“My turn next,” Joss said, across the communication system. He waited while the crew prepared to move the machine to the Recharge Facility.…

 

18

For humankind, hope often seems like a flickering, dying ember.

—Chairman Rahma, before the strange transformation of Joss Stuart

WHILE SCIO SECRECY
was essentially impenetrable, there were small concessions, unnoticed by some people but important to others. Reportedly, Chairman Rahma had negotiated a number of compromises with the Director of Science, Arch Ondex, during the push and pull in the formative days of the Green States of America. One was a procedure that enabled GSA eco-techs such as Joss and Kupi to inspect the loading of new seeding and splitting cartridges in their cannons at SciO-operated Recharge Facilities, if the techs wished to do so. In the alternative, Science Overseers would load the cartridges without them. Other Janus Machine crew members were excluded.

Being very conscientious and particular about his work, Joss always accepted this option. Kupi, on the other hand, did what she usually did, and took a pot break with the rest of the crew.

Joss stood alone on the turret platform, holding on to a railing while the twin barrels of the machine retracted. He nodded down to his crew, who stood nearby, smoking their juana sticks and watching while the big rig went into remote-control mode and rolled toward the seed-shaped ReFac building.

SciOs inside the structure were operating the J-Mac by remote control now; as Joss neared the facility, he saw the armorplex windows of the control room in the bulbous section on top, and white-robed men inside. He'd always thought these buildings were quite pleasing in appearance, with their aerodynamic elm-seed shapes that enabled them to soar upon the wind when they were being transported. He always found the beauty of nature stunning, and respected the fact that SciOs had been inspired by this when they designed their Recharge Facilities.

A huge door on the front of the ReFac building irised open, and the Janus Machine rolled inside, with the door closing behind it. In a sense, Joss felt as if he were inside an alien world now (despite the natural-looking exterior), or in an exotic barn for animals other than horses. His machine rolled forward noisily, slowly passing between windows on either side where white-robed Science Overseers worked in laboratories, formulating different types of cartridges.

Another Janus Machine was already inside the building on the other end, a newer model that was having its black Splitter barrel loaded by men with a long black hose, who used sealed fittings. Joss noticed a very fine dust floating in the air between the machines, more than usual, and he sneezed. No telling what sorts of pollens might be floating around in here.

He'd seen dusty facilities before, and had asked his managers about the integrity of the seed cartridges that were assembled in such places and the safety of loading explosive projectiles into Splitter barrels there. In response, he was always assured that cartridges and projectiles were prepared and sealed under strictly controlled conditions, and that any dust out on the floor of the loading areas was brought in from outside by Janus Machines. There was nothing to worry about, he'd always been told.

The old J-Mac truck came to a stop, and as Joss stood on the turret platform he felt it turn, so that the glistening, retracted barrel of the Seed Cannon was facing a metal deck beneath one of the side windows. Two SciOs stood on that deck, operating a mechanical arm with a large metal hand on it that held four new seed cartridges. Joss had seen this done many times before.

“Swing the cartridges over here so I can take a look,” he shouted to them. This was part of the concession that Chairman Rahma had obtained, enabling an eco-tech to examine each cartridge before it was loaded. For greenformers such as himself, it was a matter of making certain the ingredients were correct and suitable for particular environments. For Splitters like Kupi, it was more a matter of safety. If anything went wrong with her cartridges, it could blow up the Janus Machine in the field and kill the crew. As her superior, knowledgeable in all aspects of J-Mac operation, Joss always inspected her cartridges as well as his own.

“Okay,” one of the SciOs shouted back, “but you know the rules. Don't touch.” This man had a long bald spot running down the center of black, shaggy hair. His robe was smeared with green and brown.

Joss nodded, and held on to the railing as the mechanical arm swung over to him, and the metal hand opened to display the cartridges on its palm. He checked code numbers on the cartridges and compared them with his own notes, confirming that these were the mixtures he had specified for the eco-tech assignment at hand.

“Now run spectrals,” Joss said, “to be extra sure these have been filled correctly.”

“We've already done that,” the SciO said.

“I want you to do it again. I'm within my rights as a G-One eco-tech to demand this.”

“Well, aren't you the fussy one!”

Grumbling to himself, the SciO brought the seed cartridges back to himself, and ran a spectrometer over each of them. Joss heard four beeps, saw green lights on the device as the mixtures were confirmed. He was not permitted to see the actual readings, had to presume they were accurate.

“All right,” Joss said. “Go ahead and load.”

With a tight smile, the SciO said, “Well, thank you very much.”

While still holding all four cartridges, the mechanical hand loaded one at a time, waiting for each to snick into place in the Seed Cannon's holding chamber.

When they were finished and the onboard greenforming equipment was properly sealed, the operators performed a ritual on the deck that always seemed quasi-religious to Joss, though the scientists were said to be secular—like every other citizen in good standing. Facing the Janus Machine, they knelt and raised their hands in the air, with the fingers splayed. A long moment passed as they murmured something that sounded like an incantation, as if they were performing sorcery, not science.

Then they stood and operated hand-held electronic devices to swing the turret platform around to the other side, where two other SciOs were prepared to load the Splitter barrel. These men held a thick black hose containing the explosive projectiles that were fired by Splitters.