The Unincorporated Man (74 page)

As Ceres had become more populated, it was decided that the planetoid would need to create more gravity—two-thirds that of the Earth’s, to be precise. But that amount of centrifugal force would have caused the planetoid to at first deform and then explode outward. A massive molecular construction project was proposed. An outer shell would be formed with nano scaffolding using nanocarbon Bucky tubes inserted into the planetoid’s ice layer. The scaffolding endowed each square meter of ice with a tensile strength equivalent to that of 100 giga-gees, more than enough to quite literally seal the deal. Considered one of the great accomplishments of nanoengineering, the newly created phase of ice encapsulating Ceres became known as “the Shell.” Having solved one seemingly insurmountable problem, the Cereans soon found themselves facing another. The attractiveness their now stable
’s gravity made the large rock quite popular. Docking anywhere on the surface became difficult for most ships in the belt, unaccustomed as they were to operating in anything but microgravity. By necessity the ships gravitated toward the poles. These axis points were small areas in and of themselves, but at least they could offer a few precious miles of near zero gravity in which to operate. As the population continued to grow, so too did their insatiable appetite for all manner of goods. There was simply not enough space—with low enough gravity—to handle all the traffic necessary to sustain the fledgling metropolis. Rather than forcibly limit Ceres’s growth, the original settlers had once again shown true pioneering spirit and came up with another novel idea. They bored a two-mile-wide cylindrical tube straight down the center of the massive rock and named it, aptly, Via Cereana. This effectively gave them almost nineteen hundred cubic miles of microgravity surface to work with. Docking space was no longer an issue, and traffic control became simplicity in itself—enter from one end, exit from the other. After that it didn’t take long for Ceres to become the unquestioned hub of expansion to the outer orbits and a renowned city in and of itself. With over forty million inhabitants and hundreds of thousands of transients, Ceres had indeed arrived.

Interestingly, noted Justin, the port city was not alone. The value of real estate, sebastian explained, had become so great that many other smaller meteorites had been moved into synchronous orbit just to be near their larger cousin. Even though Justin was well aware that they were nothing more than the belt’s version of the ’burbs, they all appeared to him as little gems designed to complement the magnificent spinning centerpiece.

The amount of traffic was considerable and apparently the cause of Justin’s ship being put into a holding pattern. “Sorry, mate,” the ship’s captain had said, “we can get yer here in a hurry, but we can’t get yer in in a hurry.” The captain had had a good laugh at his own joke, though, judging by the nonresponse of the other crewmembers, it had been told once too often. Justin watched as ships of all shapes and sizes lined up and waited to enter.

Theirs was finally given clearance, and soon thereafter found its docking clamp some 126 miles into the heart of the rock. Justin sent his luggage ahead and tepidly walked, in his nanomagnetized state, to a tube that would take him to the higher gravity levels found closer to the surface. It was a relief to finally feel gravity resume as he approached the upper level. His goal was now simple: Find Neela.

There were three grand thoroughfares: Damsah, Smith, and Singh. According to The Chairman’s instructions, Neela would be waiting on Smith with Eleanor and Mosh. They’d be next to an almost two-story-tall statue of the first human to ever set foot on the planetoid, Cardori Singh. As Justin emerged from his ride and entered Smith’s main thoroughfare he was momentarily struck by the intensity of the daylight in the immense cavern. He quickly put on his oversized shades and adjusted the lenses to diminish the glare. The glasses, he realized, would also help cover his face. Even on Ceres the most famous face in the system would certainly be recognized. He lowered his profile and only occasionally looked straight up. The street was a cacophony of commerce, vehicles, and all manner of conversation. The smell was decidedly different. A combination, decided Justin, of rock, forced air, and steel. The ceiling—or floor, depending on ones’s orientation—was mostly bare rock with some platforms built in for those inclined to bungee jump, parachute, glide, or fly.

With Justin’s permission sebastian had taken on the role of tour guide as he led his master toward the statue. “The inhabitants of Ceres felt that a faux sky would be too imitative of Earth. Turn left here… they did not want to create a perfect replica. Cereans take pride in the fact that they’re not of the Earth, turn right… this translated into the desire not to hide their rock-bound existence, but to emphasize it.”

“Thank you, sebastian,” Justin replied, only half listening. His heart was beating quicker as he anticipated seeing a woman he had had no reason to believe he’d ever see again. A woman for whom his love had grown stronger with each passing mile of the many millions he’d recently flown.

He could now make out the large statue in the distance. The crowd thickened as Justin got closer to his destination. He’d apparently arrived in the middle of some sort of gathering, the mood of which was not celebratory. He’d had enough of demonstrations, and decided then and there that, as soon as he could, he would gather Neela, put her on the transport, and get the two of them back to Earth.

“Justin!”
Neela shrieked, from somewhere in the mass.

The crowd broke once they realized who was in their presence.

“Neela!”
Justin shouted back, turning toward the noise.

He began to run toward her voice, pushing past anyone in his way. In an instant the two found themselves standing face-to-face. And then, just as suddenly, they grabbed one another and held on tight, neither letting go.

There were no looks of shock, or even of condemnation, not that either of them would have noticed. Cereans considered themselves a tough and pragmatic people, but were known to have a soft spot for romance, especially if it defied convention. Justin and Neela’s fit the bill perfectly.

Justin pulled back for an instant and stared hard into the eyes of his lover. “I will never let you go again,
never.”

Neela smiled tepidly and looked up at the man she’d all but given up on. She’d spent the last few months thinking about her final words to him… words she’d regretted every day since.

“I’m sorry, Justin,” she said. “I… I tried to make you into something you weren’t. I was afraid you’d hate me for that. It was wrong. You do what you have to do. I promise I won’t leave you ever again. I…”

Justin kissed her hard on the lips—crowd and media be damned. Neela, feeling it was better to be hung for a wolf than a sheep, reciprocated in kind.

The crowd broke into applause.

The reunited couple acknowledged the gathering and began to walk away, arm in arm. Mosh and Eleanor soon joined them. After cordial greetings, Justin couldn’t help but notice the medical director’s look of concern.

“Don’t worry, friend,” Justin said, grinning. “I intend to marry her, if I can get the law changed and she’s stupid enough to say yes.”

“I’ll have to before you change your mind,” Neela shot back.

“It’s not that, Justin,” answered Mosh, as he hustled them through the gathering. “It’s this crowd. We should leave.”

“Why?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Since the assassination of the president the powers that be have been cracking down in the outer system. The law’s usually handled locally—as it has been for centuries.”

“So it’s a pissing match?” asked Justin.

“Not quite.”

The small group of four had practically slowed to a crawl, and Mosh and Justin had to resort to light shoving just to try and make their way clear.

“The various corporations,” continued Mosh, “have been sending out more judges and security personnel to all the settlements, enforcing laws against personal versus corporate earnings, and enforcing division of resource laws that have been on the books for hundreds of years but have rarely, if ever, been enforced.”

“In short, dear,” added Eleanor, “they’re trying to get as many credits as possible and have been cracking down to do it.”

Justin smiled. He wasn’t at all worried about the crowd, and was far more interested in getting off the rock as soon as the swelling crowd would allow. “You’re telling me,” he asked, “that all these people are pissed off about having to pay their taxes?”

“A, sweetheart,” Neela answered, “ ‘pissed off’ is no longer part of the modern vernacular, and b, in answer to your question, yes. Only please don’t say the T word in public.”

Justin grinned. “I’ve missed being corrected.”

The crowd was now beginning to shout, and the tension was palpable.

“It’s more than… the T word,” shouted Mosh over the din, “it’s how it’s being collected.”

“Force?” asked Justin.

“In a way,” shouted Mosh, pointing to a sign a protestor was holding up that read NO PSYCHE AUDITS ON CERES!

“The Corps,” he continued, “have set up three new psyche-auditing facilities here. The Cereans believe it’s an attempt to scare them into submission.” Mosh suddenly stopped and pulled a DijAssist from his pocket. He’d been signaled. He reviewed the message as quickly as possible, not wishing to stop any longer than he had to. His face suddenly paled.

“The Chairman… is dead.”

Justin, too, looked ashen. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, absolutely positive?”

“Yes, Justin,” answered Mosh. “Quite. That’s good news for you, right?”

Justin didn’t have time to answer, and realized he had to act quickly. If The Chairman was dead, there was only one reason why, and only one person who could be responsible. They were now in real danger.

“We have to leave,” he said, desperately looking for a way out, wondering who in the crowd might be the enemy. Neela saw the look in his eyes and also felt fear.

“Justin,” asked Eleanor, sensing trouble, “what is it?”

Before he could answer a series of loud shrieks could be heard in the distance. The crowd was shoved aside by a squad of GCI security goons supported by a phalanx of well-armed securibots. The massive group of armor and sweat—some fifty soldiers and bots combined—stopped directly in front of Justin and his entourage. “Justin Cord,” shouted the lead SD in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “you and your accomplices are under arrest for gross violation of the shareholder information act.” He then held up his DijAssist. “I have in my hand a signed warrant from a local judge demanding that you be given an expedited psyche audit. You will all come with me… now!”

Justin was trapped, and the promise he’d made only moments ago to the love of his life was about to be broken.

After receiving the anonymous note, Omad had boosted into Ceres. His crew had also elected to come along. They weren’t the nicest bunch, but they were all loyal and with majorities in themselves. After a few days of revelry they were ready for something more. Signs for the demonstration were up everywhere, and it didn’t take much convincing to get them all involved. To a person they were upset about the corporation’s recent encroachment. “Things are just done a certain way out here,” one of them had tried to explain in a drunken stupor to Omad, “and I’ll be damned if some suit’s gonna start grabbin’ my extra dividends just so’s he can have a shot at supermajority!” There was no use in arguing. Omad knew his crew, and knew how much trouble they could get into. He elected to go along—either to keep them out of trouble or to join them in it.

Omad’s associative fame from Justin, and actual fame from his own exploits, made him a prime candidate to be “volunteered” into service as the key representative of the outer mining community. When the Cerean council wanted to know which way the miners might go on an issue, they came to him. When mining dignitaries felt they were being given short shrift, either via time onstage or in position of seating, they came to him. In short order, what started out as a babysitting gig turned into a full-time job—one that Omad started to realize he might actually be pretty good at.

It wasn’t until he’d arrived at the park on the day of the actual protest that Omad realized how much rage existed among the populace. The type of anger he was sensing wasn’t normally verbalized—at least, he thought, not until he could sit someone down and get ’em good and drunk. He was also beginning to wonder when, if at all, he would manage to connect with his friend. He didn’t have to wait long, as he was soon informed by one of his minions that Justin had been seen near the Singh Statue. He immediately began moving in that direction, and shortly thereafter arrived at the perimeter. When he finally shoved his way forward, it wasn’t what he saw that was so chilling; it was what he and the crowd surrounding him had heard: “
expedited psyche audit
.”

The dissonant rumblings of thousands of protestors quieted so quickly that the lone voice of a crying baby could be heard across the field.

Justin attempted to break free but was quickly overwhelmed by the guards. Neela instinctively leaped to his defense, and she, too, was subdued quickly. Mosh and Eleanor offered no resistance, convinced by this most recent demonstration of power that doing so would prove futile. The crowd stirred ominously but didn’t move—unsure of what to do next.