The Complete Karma Trilogy (9 page)

“The people out there—” he started to say.

“Don’t like rats either. They don’t ever come in here. They’re only using rats because that’s what scientists do. I’m the professional rat caretaker, here at Kaishin.”

“Well,” he said, mostly to himself. “I don’t think I can fairly argue with you. You’ll be gone in three months?”

“Two months and three weeks. Less than that, even.”

“And you have no problem working here, when your father does not?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” she said. “This is a job. I’m old enough not to need a father everywhere I go.”

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll tell Mr. Perry there’s no concern. That should take care of the whole affair.”

Mr. Laurel was about to leave, when Toru entered the room. He’d never been in the room before, and Reiko knew immediately that something was wrong. “Can I have a moment alone, with Ms. Okada?” he asked Mr. Laurel.

“I was about to leave anyway,” he said.

After the door closed behind him, Toru said, “I have something to tell you.” He looked like someone strongly repressing some very intense feelings, almost normal, but she could see a great pain in his face.

“What is it?”

“We just got a call. They’re saying that Mr. Okada committed suicide. He’s dead.”

“That can’t be,” Reiko said. “That just can’t.”

She started to cry. She couldn’t help it. She had only known him for a week, but it still affected her deeply. Suddenly, she couldn’t stand the confinement of the room, and left without saying another word to Toru. She felt that she had to be outside, as soon as possible.

In the lobby, Mr. Laurel was talking to a few of the employees, and as he saw her he tried expressing his condolences, telling her that he just found out himself. She paid no attention to him though, just walked past, and outside. It only occurred to her much later that, if she had been acting like Mr. Okada’s daughter, for the benefit of the lie she was living, she probably wouldn’t have acted any differently.

Decay 5

We’ll Wait

Charles Darcy was
sitting in a firm leather chair in a dressing room, waiting to be interviewed on national television. He was in the Television City Tower, the headquarters of one of the few major news broadcasters not yet owned by the Government.

Although Top World News was as popular as it was, he was worried that it might be suspicious that it was the only interview he had agreed to, even though agents of many of the other, Government-owned news stations had been calling him constantly ever since he’d rejected a Government position. Top World News was not openly anti-Government, because if it was it wouldn’t have existed, but it did have certain associations that he wanted to distance himself from, while at the same time taking advantage of the public platform that their interview provided him. He had to think carefully about how to present his case, very carefully.

He was extremely tired, but couldn’t allow the world to notice. He had been forced to be himself nearly all of the past week, and had been finding it extremely difficult. He had an image to preserve, while at the same time a secret that would cost him and his entire Order their lives, if it was discovered.

A man knocked on the door. Without waiting for a response, a voice said, “Mr. Darcy, they’re ready for you outside.”

He stood up slowly, smoothed his tuxedo out with his hands, and left the room. He found himself in a brightly lit hallway. There was a short man wearing an earpiece, standing at the far end, that waved him over. When he got there, the man said, “You’ll walk through this door, Mr. Darcy, and turn left. You can wave at the studio audience if you want. You will sit down in the chair closest to you, facing Mr. Spencer. There will be a glass of water underneath the chair, on the left, if you find yourself getting thirsty. The lights are really bright, I must warn you.” The man stopped talking, and inclined his head slightly, as if he was listening to something he could hear only distantly. “Okay, you’re going on now. Good luck.”

On the other side of the door, the lights were incredibly bright. Blindly, he waved in the direction of the audience, and they applauded loudly. Across the stage was Ryan Spencer, a famous news personality. He was standing, with his hand extended as Charles approached. They shook, and then sat down.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Charles Darcy. You’ve had an extremely busy past few years, if what I hear is true. We’re glad that you could make time for us,” he said with a smile.

“I’m only as busy as I want to be,” Charles said, trying to be modest. “And I’m glad to be here.”

“For those of you that don’t know his story, Mr. Darcy has been the most productive member of our society since the beginning of Karma. Five hundred Good Works a day. Twenty four hours a day—you don’t sleep, Mr. Darcy. That’s not an exaggeration, that’s a fact learned from looking at your Record, and I would say that it wasn’t physically possible if I didn’t have you sitting here before me, living proof. How do you do it? And why, what motivates you? Your newspaper article made it seem like you didn’t even realize that what you were doing was far from ordinary.”

“I might have given the wrong impression, to the newspaper. I have known all along that I do more Good Works than all of the people that I know of, which if I’m being honest with myself means that I’m making more money. But I would have figured that, in this very large world we live on, there would be at least a few more people like me out there. To have done something unprecedented in a world this large seems nearly impossible to me, conceptually, and it still does.”

Ryan moved at the speed of entertainment, from one question to the next. “You’ve been called a modern entrepreneur, and have been touted by the Government itself as the role model of the century. Now, I don’t mean to be critical here, since there is the naked fact that the rate at which you have done Good Works is simply miraculous, but this thing about you never sleeping seems almost unfair, at least with respect to you being a role model. Do you really think people should follow your example? And are you taking some sort of medicinal supplement, to help you with what you’re doing?”

His heart was racing. What scared him most about Karma was that it recorded his vitals, his blood pressure and his heart rate. He hoped that the excitement of being on national television would be enough to fool Karma, as he danced around the lies he would be telling.

“There is no doubt in my mind that in a world like ours, technologically saturated but scarce in resources, what is most important is strength in community, helping out your fellow brother. Actually, in any world, I would say that that was most important. But in the past, there were plenty of less direct ways of doing that, a person could do research, solve problems, help advance human understanding and make the world better that way. But that’s been nearly pushed to its limit. We have the Solar Kite, and the factories, and Karma. It’s been taken care of for us. What remains is to be kind, charitable, and to always help when the opportunity presents itself.

“I don’t take a medicinal supplement, as you called it. There are plenty out there, and people should feel free to use them, but I have always believed in a natural human diet, as vague as that might sound. I don’t know why I don’t sleep, and I don’t recommend it to anybody. It can be scary sometimes. But since I’m awake, and it helps to take my mind off of things, I’m out there every day doing Good Works, which I recommend to anybody.”

Ryan nodded thoughtfully, and then started in with another prompt. “There’s also this matter about you turning down a Government position. To me, that almost seems even more unusual than your work ethic. Do you have more to say on that?”

That point was the one Charles had to be the most careful with. If he said the wrong things, it would be the end of everything. What was interesting about Ryan was that even though he was famous, he did not have a large financial wealth. If he did, he would have been forced into the Government.

Certain jobs, like the delivery of the news, couldn’t be assigned to robots. There were still bartenders, waiters, pilots, newscasters. Unless they worked for the Government, their job was treated as a Good Work, which didn’t provide them with much more financial power than the average citizen.

Ryan was walking the fine, distinct line between popularity and citizenship. The transition to financial wealth would be impossible for him, unless he took a Government position, which almost without a doubt had been offered to him before, and was still possible for him at any time.

So there were reasons that Ryan had made the same decision that Charles had, reasons that he persisted in poverty, even when he had fame. There was a hidden question in what Ryan asked him—he was being disingenuous. Ryan didn’t really think it was that unusual that Charles had declined the position. He just wanted to know why. It must have been a personal interest, since he doubted that Ryan cared for the audience at all, at that moment. What was truly unprecedented and interesting about Charles was that he was both rich and a citizen, not his work ethic.

“I have nothing to offer the Government. It’s as simple as that. What I do, and who I am, only has a place as a citizen. And that is not intended as an offense to the Government, not at all. What they do is a necessity. But I don’t belong behind a desk, legislating. And I’m not a politician, I don’t belong on television. That is why I have only agreed to this one interview. My skills are just different.”

Ryan laughed. “You’re being very modest, television seems to suit you fine. Well I will thank you for being here. You really are a popular man. Whether you agree to another interview or not, I imagine you will be making the news for some time to come. It’s been an honor,” he said, and stood again, offered his hand again. The audience began to clap loudly. He leaned in and said, “The microphones are off. I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you mind talking privately after the show? There are other things I would like to ask you.”

“Of course,” Charles said, and dropped the other’s hand. He turned and waved at the audience again, and bowed, and was greeted by very loud cheers. With that, he left the stage.

He was directed to a room, where he waited twenty minutes for Ryan to arrive. He couldn’t help but notice the triangles in the corner of the room that indicated that it was a Privacy Room. He drank a glass of water and reflected on how his first and perhaps only television appearance had gone. “They will like me or they won’t,” he thought to himself.

When Ryan did arrive, he poured himself a drink before he said anything at all. “Would you like one as well?” he asked, when he had finished preparing his own.

“I’m fine with water,” Charles said.

“Tell me what you wouldn’t tell me out there,” Ryan said, without any attempt to be subtle. “And don’t worry, this is a Privacy Room.” He pointed at one of the corners, with the index finger of the hand that he was holding his glass with.

Charles didn’t trust any Privacy Room that was not his own. And he didn’t entirely trust those, half of the time. The only time he felt safe to think his own thoughts, even, was when the Chip was out of his head, a luxury that no one outside of his Order had, as far as he was aware.

It was possible that Ryan was actually an agent of the Government, who lured potential radicals into a false sense of security, only to turn them over when they admitted to their treasonous thoughts. He was firmly resolved to play innocent to the end, even though part of him thought that Ryan would have been a good ally to have, if he was real. “I get the feeling that you expect something far deeper from me than there really is. I’ve said everything, and there isn’t anything more to it.”

“I don’t believe that,” Ryan said. “I don’t believe a damn bit of it.”

“That’s unfortunate,” was Charles’ simple reply.

“I can’t let you go that easily. There is no reason why you wouldn’t want to work for the Government, unless you had something to hide. Whatever fortune you have now, however you got it, would double. And you wouldn’t even have to try. And you would have the option of being one of the first people to go to Mars. Now who wouldn’t want that? I hear the sky is already blue. Can you imagine, a blue sky? It’s a fairy tale, and you won’t be able to live it unless you become one of them.”

In five years, Mars would be ready to live on. They had begun terraforming it ten years before, and already they were putting in a frictionless transportation system underground, and the foundations for the skyscrapers they would build in time. Members of the Government were given an option to move there first. Most of the population of Earth wouldn’t ever be given that option.

Charles chose to be aggressive, even as he played innocent. Perhaps it was a dangerous move. “I could ask you the same thing. You have all the same options, don’t you? What is it that you’re hiding, then? If we’re using your logic.”

Ryan smiled cunningly. “Well, now I don’t know how much I should say, Charles. I had thought I found a friend, but perhaps I was wrong. I will say, that if you are doing what I think you are doing, I don’t believe that you will get very far. This world wasn’t made to be opposed. It is much larger and stronger than you, it will destroy you long before you even scratch it. I used to think that I could challenge it, but that was a long time ago.”

Charles just smiled as fake as he could, and sipped his water.

“Of course,” Ryan continued, “that wouldn’t make sense to someone with as pure of intentions as you have. Whatever it is you’re doing, I wish you the best of luck. Show the world just how much love you have to offer it, that will always do the trick.”

“There’s something we can agree on,” Charles said.

It took three different subways to get from the studio to his mansion. On the first subway, he noticed that everyone there was looking at him, but nobody said a thing. At the first stop, when a few people left and a few more got on, a drunk man that must have just left a bar loudly announced Charles’ presence to the whole car. “This guy was just on television. I was just watchin’ it, I really just was. At the…” his words trailed off. “At the bar,” he finished. “Nice to meet ya, good sir,” he said as he stuck his dirty hand out for Charles to shake.

Charles took it firmly. So many handshakes lately, he thought. He could feel the man’s weakness through his hand.

“I still have a question though,” the man continued. “Why you doin’ it?”

“Why am I doing what?”

“Why you bein’ a saint, or whatever it is?”

“Not a saint. A citizen. I answered that already. On the television,” Charles said, patiently. Everyone around was listening.

“No you didn’t. I was listenin’. I was waitin’ specifically to hear that answer. And I never heard it.”

“I said that we’re a community. And that we have to look out for each other.”

“That’s not a why, that’s a what. Or should, or you know what I mean. ‘Have to look out for each other,’ you say. Well there’s a lot of things that I have to do that I just don’t, you know? Karma forgive me. You didn’t convince me. I wanted to be convinced. They keep callin’ you a hero, and I want to know why I should feel the same.”

Suddenly it felt to Charles that what he said then would be just as important as what he had been trying to say on the television. If he redeemed his failure to make his point thoroughly on television, right there on a moving subway, would it spread? He didn’t know. But he thought he should try. The reason that the Government called him a hero, for the moment, was because he was doing exactly what they wanted him to, he was embracing their system more firmly than they could ever hope, at least from their perspective. But that didn’t appeal to the oppressed.