Pennsylvania Omnibus (4 page)

“You’re doing okay, Jed!” Jerry said, slapping him
playfully on the back.  “Now I hope you’ll get to your colony at New PA and
forget all about this nonsense out here in this world.  Especially the TRIDs
and the BICE and the unilets.  Those are just people-control systems.  After
the wars, everyone was willing to give up whatever freedom they had left just
to stop the violence.  So now we have TRIDs and unilets… and they have this
stupid BICE system that ties it all together so that the power apparatus can
control everything down to the minutest detail.  It won’t be long and the BICE
will be mandatory, just like the TRIDs and unilets.  I hate the unilets
system.”

“Why do you hate it?” Jed asked.

“Unis are now just an international currency, governed and
regulated by corporations and the international banks.  The great wars, which
were caused by the collapse of national banks, drove everyone—everyone but you
Plain People, that is—to conclude that the only way to prevent massive swings
in the values of currency and markets was to have a centrally regulated form of
money.  The unilet became that currency.  In the end, the mechanism designed by
so-called “patriots” to free people from the grip of the banking cartels became
the tool used to codify and deify the single currency as the de facto monetary
unit of the whole world.”

Jerry looked around, leaned into Jed, and whispered
conspiratorially.  “That’s why I’m going to New PA, buddy.  When I get there,
I’m getting my TRID removed.  Heck, I might even try to get into the AZ to
visit you there.  Maybe I’ll even convert and become one of you!”

Jed laughed.  He really didn’t think that Jerry was
serious, and as the big man turned to glance out the window, the smile kind of
faded slowly until his face communicated more of a wistful look than anything
else.  The look reminded Jed of Dawn.

“In Europe, a long time ago, our people were persecuted
horribly.  But after a war, or when some king somewhere discovered that his
people were nearing starvation, he would open wide the doors of his lands for
our people to come in.  We’ve always been prized for our industry and hard work
and productivity.  For a time, we’d be given tolerance and protection… and
things would remain that way until our numbers would multiply, and the people,
no longer starving, would grow angry at our successes, and then the kings would
banish us, or allow us to be persecuted again to the point where we would have
to flee.  Then we’d be off to homestead in some other land.  There was always
another king somewhere with land who wanted us to come and work the ground in
his kingdom.”

Jerry sat and listened intently.  They’d arrived at the
SGT Transport Facility in the desert of Loving County, Texas, and now they were
sitting in the gate area waiting for their turn in Medical.  Medical was their
last checkpoint before they could board their ship for New Pennsylvania.

“And now the newest new world is a whole other planet!”
Jerry said.  He whistled softly and shook his head.  “I guess some things never
really change, do they?”

“Jerry Rios!”
The name crackled out of the speakers
and frightened everyone in the waiting room.  Most of the people had the BICE,
so there was no need to actually call those people’s names over the
loudspeakers.  With the Internet chip in their heads, an alert would indicate
to them that a medical station was opened and waiting for them.  For the Plain
People, and those few like Jerry who didn’t have a BICE implant, the
old-fashioned building-wide announcement was used.

“Jerry Rios to Medical, please.  Jerry Rios.”

Jerry stood and reached over to shake Jed’s hand.  “I
guess this is where we part ways, Jed.  We probably won’t see one another again
until we disembark at New PA.  They take us straight from Medical to our pod,
so… I guess this is it.  Have a great trip, buddy, and I’ll see you on the
other side.”

“Okay, Jerry.  Thanks for the nice conversation.”  Jed
squeezed his hand and smiled. “I hope you have a great trip too, and Lord
willing, we’ll talk when we get to New Pennsylvania.”

Jed sat back down as Jerry hurried off toward the main
desk.  Most of the people had already gone through their checkup and
preparation at Medical, and only a few travelers were left in the waiting
area.  Slicked-back had been one of the first ones called, over an hour ago,
and Jed was glad about that.

Jed hadn’t had the opportunity to see everyone who was
going to be on the trip.  The SGT station was a confusing and cavernous
facility, and people were seated all over the place.  Without access to the
Internet queue, to Jed it looked like people would just randomly stand up and
head off to Medical, and while he’d been talking to Jerry, maybe two-thirds of
the passengers had loaded onto the ship without him even noticing.  Now, there
were only a few travelers left in the waiting room.

“Jedediah Troyer!  Jedediah Troyer to Medical, please. 
Jedediah Troyer.”

Jed was poked and prodded and tested, but, all in all, the
process proceeded quite rapidly.  The only painful part was when a catheter was
inserted into his bladder.  He wasn’t sure if that process violated the
Richmond Ruling, but the doctors explained to him that it was necessary in
order to be able to drain his liquid waste during the trip.  He didn’t
understand every word they said, but it seemed pretty straightforward.  After
the catheter was installed, he was given a large glass of an orange liquid, and
he was told to drink it all down.  This was supposed to “clean him out” for the
trip, they explained.

Next, a woman came in and went through everything that was
going to happen on the trip, explaining basically the same information that had
been on the brochures Jed had read, only this briefing was a little more
in-depth.

She explained that he was going to be placed in “suspended
animation.”  The trip was going to take nine years in Earth time.  He would
only age a week or so during the duration of the voyage, but it would seem like
he’d slept for only a few hours.  There should be no long-term health effects. 
The one thing she emphasized several times was that he could not return.  She
made certain that he understood that fact.

When the woman was finished briefing him, she asked if he
had any questions.  He could feel the orange drink working on him, and he had
the urge to go to the bathroom, but he felt like he needed to wait to see what
would come next.  He said he didn’t have any questions, so she smiled and stood
to leave.  Just as she reached the door, she turned to him and said, “I’m sure
you need to use the restroom, so go ahead.  It’s right through that door. 
Someone else will meet you when you come out.”

Jed nodded his head but didn’t spend long saying goodbye. 
He really needed to go.  He rushed into the bathroom, and there he determined
that when the Transport authorities told you some drink was going to empty you
out for a long voyage, they weren’t kidding around.

After Jed was done doing his business, he washed his hands
and paused to look in the mirror.  This was something he’d rarely done in his
life.  His people didn’t generally believe in having mirrors around the house. 
Mirrors tended to vanity, he was told.  But now he really looked at himself,
and maybe it was for the very first time.

At eighteen years old, he was a sturdy young man. 
Handsome enough.  He noticed that he looked like a very young version of his
father.  His hair was dirty blond where it stuck out beneath his black hat, and
he was shaved because he wasn’t married yet.  He was lean and strong from all
the hard work on the farm, and he knew that there would be even harder work
ahead of him if he was going to be successful in building his own place in New
Pennsylvania.  Looking at himself in the mirror, he nodded his approval.  He
knew he’d make it work, no matter what happened next.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Jed was met by two
stern-looking men who appeared to be very official.  One of the men, the taller
one, wore the uniform of the Transport Police.  The shorter one was the one who
spoke to him.

“Mr. Troyer, my name is Hugh Conrad, and I’m with the
Transport Authority.  This is Officer Rheems of the TP.  You’re under arrest
for insurrectionist discussions and terroristic intent based on conversations
you had with Mr. Jerry Rios aboard the airbus that brought you here.  We have
the whole conversation recorded.  We’re going to need you to come with us.”

Jed felt the gold coin pressing
into the ball of his foot, and the feeling that he’d been doing something
terribly wrong made it hard for him to focus on what the TP officer was saying
to him.

Every five minutes or so, a small box up near the ceiling
in the room would spray a fine mist into the air.  The air smelled of
artificial flowers and sweet chemicals, and Jed wondered if perhaps this was
some aerosolized version of Quadrille, used to make arrested persons more
compliant.  He didn’t know, and not knowing made him feel even worse. 
Everything in the office was plastic and metal and temporary, and Jed
contrasted it with the essence of permanence he’d experienced back at his
family’s farm.

Officer Rheems of the Transport Police commanded Jed to
“remove his shoes and any articles of jewelry” and place them in the rubber bin
under his chair.  He slipped off his shoes and made sure to tip them forward so
that the gold coin in the right one would slide unnoticed toward the toe.  He
placed the shoes into the bin and then folded his hands on his lap.  He wore no
jewelry or other personal adornment of any kind.  He didn’t like not knowing
what was going to happen to him.  He was nervous.  He was frightened.  For the
first time that he could remember in all of his life, he felt fully powerless
and exposed.

Rheems ordered him to stand up and put his hands on the
opposite wall, and a thorough pat-down search commenced, adding to Jed’s sense
that he was some kind of criminal and that he was, therefore, doomed.

“Sit back down in the chair,” Rheems said.  The Transport
cop looked over to the other man, Conrad, and nodded his head to indicate that
the search had been completed.

Conrad glared at him coldly.  Jed could detect no human
feeling or care or empathy coming from the man.  This was a man who did
everything by the book, and it was obvious that he didn’t let
anything—emotions, mercy, kindness—affect his decisions.

“Jed Troyer, son, you are charged with a felony count of
insurrectionist discussions with terroristic intent.  You are not only charged,
but you are already convicted, by the way.”  Conrad walked around the desk and
stood in front of Jed.  “Once you left the AZ and boarded official Transport,
you were no longer protected under the Richmond Ruling, and you’ve waived all
rights as a Plain Person in order to travel out of the AZ.  Every individual
who boards and engages official Transport agrees to waive any right they have
to an attorney, to a trial by jury, et cetera.  They also agree to submit
themselves to the absolute judgment of the Transport Authority.  That’s us. 
You signed a document agreeing to what I’ve just laid out for you, and now
you’ve been found to be in violation of Transport law.  Do you understand what
I’m saying to you?”

“I don’t think so, sir.  I don’t understand what I’ve done
that was wrong,” Jed said.

“You engaged in a public conversation where blatant
violations of law were discussed and planned.  Specifically, traveler Jerry
Rios, who is now in custody as well, discussed with you in detail his
intention, upon his arrival in New Pennsylvania, to remove his TRID
implant—which would be a felony—and then to escape and illegally join you in
the AZ there.  Do you deny these charges?”

“I don’t deny that he said these things.  I didn’t say
them, or agree with them though.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, even if you denied it. 
It doesn’t matter if you said anything or agreed or disagreed.  Failure to
report insurrectionist activities immediately to Transport authorities is
evidence of criminal conspiracy.  We have the whole conversation recorded, and
you have waived your right to trial.  You’ve been declared guilty, and now it
just remains for us to decide what to do with you.” Conrad looked over at
Rheems, then stared back at Jed with hostility in his eyes.

“Am I going to be sent to Oklahoma?” Jed asked.  That was
the worst thing he could think of, so he figured he’d get right to the point. 
He wanted to look the thing square in the face if that was what was going to
happen to him.  Nobody wanted to be sent into exile in Oklahoma… and exile was
the punishment of choice for Transport crimes.  The horror stories about
Oklahoma were widely believed to be true.  Exile was tantamount to the death
penalty.

“Well, that’s what we need to determine, Jed.  Normally it
would be an automatic thing.  In fact, historically we would have taken you and
Rios off of your airbus and put you directly on a prison airbus to
Oklahoma.”

Jed didn’t know what to say to that.  The fact that the
normal response to his crime had not been followed gave him hope that he might
still avoid permanent exile in the wastelands, where he would be helpless among
the society’s worst criminals.  He just stared back at Rheems, not wanting to
say anything that might make his case worse.

“But...” Conrad said, exhaling heavily, “there are some
problems going on in the exile lands right now, and we can’t get any Transport
vehicles in or out.  So we have to decide what to do with you and Rios short of
just casting you into Oklahoma.”