Saturday, January 30, 2010

Perfect World, Aden and Glurp

essay
In the beginning there was glurp. All that passed for life, for intelligence, for civilization was nothing more than muck in a tide pool, awaiting a lightning strike.

Then there was a lightning strike.

Eventually the glurp divided and grew, subdivided and separated, evolved and organized. It decided that part of itself liked the water and would remain there, while another part longed for the freedom of the floating breeze and yet a third part ached for the rich smell of soil beneath its as yet unformed feet.

And so it was for untold millennia.

Eventually something resembling human surprised the mother chimps and homo sapiens was born.
Over time they amassed, then gathered and hoarded, then hunted and shared, then established a chain of order to ensure survival of the group. Strength against predators was valued; the slow, the old, the ill or weak fell to them and their genetic material did not survive. This was good for the group, and it continued on in this way...

Until the Smart Ones were born.

The Smart Ones knew how to lie. They created safety and established order by inventing a deity in order to gain complete control. The Smart Ones blamed all the tragedy in the people's lives on the deity, who was punishing them for disobeying the Smart Ones.
The communities cowered, and then obeyed. For generations the Smart Ones molded their societies using fear of the deity and of the punishment that awaited them after death in the Great Unknown. In this way, large and complex and ignorant communities thrived and grew...

Until the Selfish Ones came along.

They saw the Smart Ones' plan could be improved, and so they educated their illiterate masses. The Selfish Ones gave them just enough knowledge to let them build the cities and run them, so the Selfish Ones could sit back in leisure and watch. They did not teach them how to become Selfish Ones-- this had to be figured out on their own. Eventually some did, and they joined with the other Selfish Ones to become...

The Greedy Few Who Have Everything.

The Greedy Few Who Have Everything built upon the fear created by the Selfish Ones and created artificial desires, bewitching the masses into wanting more and more. They spent all their money, and more, on useless trinkets and shoddy baubles; with the influx of borrowed money, the cities became large and dynamic. Then the loans came due, and soon life became complex and hard for the workers, who were now all in debt, even as the Greedy Few Who Have Everything grew fat and round and found ever more ways to engage in pleasurable endeavors. Over time the overworked people grew heartless and cold, and they began to care not for strangers nor for their neighbors nor even for their friends, but just for themselves. And the people grew bitter as their one hope, The Truth, faded from view behind the tall thick walls encircling the estates of the Greedy Few Who Have Everything.

Finally the Wise One showed up.

One small man, speaking calmly yet with a sense of dire urgency, the Wise One nonetheless carried the most important message of all. He showed the people life as it truly was; how, thanks to unrestrained greed and artificial desire, human life was spreading across the globe and devouring the Earth as it grew.
He compared human consumption to a plague and made them understand that it was matricide and must stop. He blamed The Greedy Few Who Have Everything, who were engaged in a war of supremacy with each other, ignoring the rest of humanity, oblivious to the fact that to win the game is to lose the world.

The Wise One waits for the truth to germinate and grow, so the Many might take back the world from the Few.

But time is growing short.

•---•--•-|0|-•--•---•

It is true that the Next Great Idea is always met with great resistance, most of which comes from the staunch defenders of the Last Great Idea. As an example we watched Democracy rise and blossom, as Imperialism faded.
But it is also true that the benefits of the next great idea must manifest themselves early, to convince others that the Next Great Idea even has merit. If people could not feel the freedom and potential for success right away under Democracy, it would never have taken seed.

This new idea, dubbed Perfect World, seeks to eliminate human misery and re-establish a connection with the planet, while still maintaining modern life with all its wonders. This goal is at direct odds with the powerful Greedy Few Who Have Everything, who bask in human misery and would stop at nothing to see Perfect World fail.

To ensure that it does not fail, Perfect World's first focus will be to shine the light of truth on everything. The insidious plan of the Greedy Few Who Have Everything is the manipulation of truth so that the majority of people won't know the facts. They twist truth using several methods:
1. Damage the education system so that people don't have the tools for wise decision making.
2. Control the media's spin of the facts to reflect what is good for them and hide the truth.
3. Mislead the unaware majority with sound bites, hiding the real, important issues.
4. Embattle into poverty using the legal system the visionaries who have better plans.
5. Squelch those who survive the legal route by attacking their personal lives.
6. Give money to politicians who vote for corporate interests, and help those types of people get elected into powerful offices, who then vote for laws that benefit them.
7. Accuse those who accuse them with slanderous, unprovable lies, confusing the facts.
8. Kill.

Nature is balance. What the masses wish for in society is balance. But all of these methods are brilliantly designed models for upsetting balance that allows the few to accumulate the most.

We should not blame them... after all, thanks to our system of Capitalism, we created them. But now it's time to uncreate them.
How? How do we put the genie back in the bottle? We have made a society which respects laws, and the Greedy Few Who Have Everything knew this and used their influence to create laws to protect themselves, laws which now make them rich and powerful.

They created companies, and those companies became corporations. Somehow they found a way to give the corporations life, so that they magically had rights, and could vote with their spending. But the corporation couldn't die. The corporation was soulless.
The corporation's prime motivation was to make money for the corporation and its investors, above all else.
Above all else.
The corporation may be choking the environment with smoke and pollutants... but it's making money for investors, so that's just fine.
Above all else.
The corporations may underpay their employees so they can't maintain a minimum style of life... but that saves the corporation money, so that's okay.
Above all else.
The corporation may kill people who actively try to damage them... but that stops them, and that is good for the corporation, so that's great.
Above all else.
The corporation could strip mine and destroy an entire country to obtain a rare element, but it'll make the investors money, so that's just splendid.
Above all else.

RECAP: For those of you who are not clear on this, the problem is NOT:
Illegal Immigration
Tattoos
Homosexual Marriages
Breast Implants
The Homeless
Divorce
The Liberal Media
Loose Borders
Piercings
Cursing in Music and the Movies
Fanatical Religious Zealotry
Sex
Drugs
Rock and Roll
Fetishists
Graffiti
Street Vendors
Biker Gangs
The Insane
Prostitution
Drug Dealers
Gang Bangers
Pornography
Underage Drinking
Shoddy Products
Pedophiles
Obesity
Cancer
Scam Artists
Laws Banning Ice Cream Cones and Chewing Gum
No, these are only the symptoms of the problem.

The problem is, very simply, fear. We fear the Great Unknown, which is the future, because our society has not guaranteed our safety as individuals. It feebly tries to... but the safety nets built into our system are shaky at best, temporary and barely decent, and constantly in danger of being pulled out from under us by the Greedy Few Who Have Everything, who are upset that they don't have that too.

They want everything, and have learned how to manipulate the system to get it. They figure if you don't also do that then you must not be good at the game, so it's their job to take it from you. They want to take it from you, because they only care about themselves. They want it because, incredibly enough, they fear the same thing that you do... the loss of everything, which leads to the fear of the Great Unknown.

Which fears are most people petrified of?
• "I'll lose my home and end up on the street and freeze to death."
• "I won't be able to buy food and I'll starve."
• "I'll get sick and they won't help me and I'll die."
• "It will be too dangerous outside and I will get killed by roving hordes."
• And all the same fears, extended to their children and loved ones.

That's it. Can you believe it? That's all we're afraid of (the lethal variety anyway). The funny thing is, we've already solved these problems, a thousand times over. There is enough shelter for everybody on the planet, enough food for them, enough healthcare for them and with those needs met, the roving hordes really tend to disappear.

The problem is, we don't feel right just giving any of those things to anybody... not under our present, greed-based system, anyway. The standard complaint is 'Why do I have to pay for these people? They should pay for themselves!' So instead of just giving it to everybody, we give them a way to earn those things... sort of. If they finish high school and college, they can get a white collar job and work in a clean office for the highest grade of pay. If they only finish high school, they can still get a good blue collar job earning almost as much as some of the white-collar jobs.
But if they don't finish high school, their choices become more limited, as does their income. And when that happens, that's when the fear starts.



Lately, though, a new and far worse enemy has crept in. Let's call it Supergreed. The game between the Greedy Few Who Have Everything has gotten fierce. Now they play for enormous money, the size of which can bankrupt entire nations. When the country can't pay its bills because the money belongs to Greedy Few Who Have Everything, the debt must be settled by the rest of us through steeper prices and higher taxes. With more of your base income gone, only the best paying jobs now yield comfort... the rest yield fear of the Great Unknown.
And don't forget how much farther your money needs to be stretched. Not only are the prices of repeating expenses (like the gas bill) far steeper than they were in the 60's, there are more of them. Here's a short, incomplete list of the difference between 1960 and 2010 monthly bills:

1960 2010
Mortgage Mortgage
Phone Phone
Gas Gas
Electric Electric
Water Water
Sewer/Trash
Cable/Satellite TV
Car Insurance
Master Card
Internet Service
Visa
Netflix
Diner's Card
Life Insurance
Cell Phone
American Express
School Loans
Department Store Cards
Personal Loans
Discover Card
Car Lease
Business Loans
Home Security
Rottweiler Rental
Ammunition

Don't forget that in 1960, gasoline was 31 cents a gallon, one tenth what it is today. So yeah, no wonder it's really hard to pay all the bills, why you need a double or triple income family to make ends meet, why vacations have become nothing more than two weeks off from work, at home, giving you time to make badly needed money from some other temporary and possibly illegal occupation.

So if you've noticed certain subtle signs all around you, things which are now inexplicably different, you can be certain it is the uneasy undercurrent of woe; a foretelling of the coming grievous and spectacular failure for which the economic world is headed. If you listen you may be able to hear, in the distance, the faint but growing Song of the Fat Lady.



So much for reality.

This blog is about ideology, or at best, a taste of things we hope come to pass. You might notice mentioned in previous posts how the full move to Perfect World is not expected to finish for two hundred years or more. The reason for that is the glacial speed of political change. Direct observance of the political scene for over four decades has crystallized the concept of 'speedy politics': Think tectonic plate movement-- long periods of bupkis, followed by chaos.
That's why the concept of Perfect World took form.

Chide the obvious reference all you want, the fictional city of Aden, mentioned many times in this blog, is a place any of us would readily live-- a city of limitless beauty, of squeaky cleanliness, of golden opportunity. It's perfect as a home for our families. It's a stress-free environment where people work only a quarter as hard as we do now but accomplish far more. It's a city that generates its own power, recycles 100% of its waste, and boasts a carbon footprint so small it should be bronzed.

Who would say no to a city that welcomes you with open arms when you arrive and offers you free lodging for as long as you wish, even if you decide to stay for the rest of your life? A place where every restaurant gives food to you as part of their daily service, where schools nurture your children with individualized and enjoyable education, a city which encourages health and energy, reason and discovery, science and creativity? Nobody, that's who.

But Aden is a place which is out of sync with the country we live in today. A place which, if it were discovered, could be exploited by the Greedy Few Who Have Everything until it was an empty pile of dry and scorched bones.
That's why it is a secret city that few people know about. It's a grand social system that seems to be thriving, a city vast yet invisible to the outside world, the next stage of man as carried out by the current stage of man.

It IS Aden-- without the religious overtones. It is the final, finest place man has ever made for himself, so much like a fantasy it does not seem possible. The irony is that each of the changes which make up the whole of Aden exist elsewhere in the world. It is just that Aden has put them all together in one location.

We see that Aden has wonderful technology. Well, most of the fantastical devices envisioned in the stories on these electronic pages are available today, or are right on the cutting edge of what will be available in the near future. The reason Aden has them and other cities do not is the elimination of waste, both in human work hours and resources. All the extra time and materials Aden has goes into public works projects and automation and maintenance.

Aden is only one city, and not a big one at that. But it has huge dreams. For example, it has created a transcontinental subterranean railway, one that can reach an astonishing 20,000 miles an hour! Doing the math, you could circle the globe in an hour and fifteen minutes. It boggles the mind. They accomplish this task by eliminating friction. First, the train is in a tunnel absent of air, like the vacuum of space. Second, it does not touch the rail it follows but floats above it magnetically. Third, the tunnel itself is as straight as a laser beam (as one was used to approve the final shape).

Of course it takes longer to travel these distances with passengers inside, because the train must speed up and slow down incrementally, so as not to crush them with G-forces. Still, the New York to Los Angeles line does its thing in about an hour. Not bad.


Not content with that, they also built an underground roadway that branches to every point in Aden. The specialized carts are lightweight, computer directed and magnetically pulled along a flat metal floor, speeding along at up to sixty miles an hour. They are unaffected by weather or temperature and are rarely crowded, because Adeners also travel on power bicycles and float taxis and moving walkways and aquavators and even corkscrew escalators to get where they need to go. And yes, many of them walk. It is a healthy city.


And just for the fun of it, Aden is in the process of building one more citywide transportation system. It's a miles-long roller coaster with regular stops around the city! An Aden scientist went to an Outers theme park one day and lamented that it couldn't be a regular transportation system. Then she realized she lived in Aden and could be, so proposed it. Eighty three percent of Aden thought it would be 'bitchin', though half of those were concerned about the noise. So after she designed silent running coaster cars, work began. Warning... this method of travel will not be for the delicate of stomach! Barf bags provided, of course.


The reason these wonderful devices are not available in the rest of the country is that they are expensive to produce and so are not considered in the greed-based economy we have established. Even though many wonderful new products may have already been invented in the pure science labs of large corporations, they end up being stacked on a shelf in a Raiders of the Lost Ark warehouse somewhere, waiting for the time when it can be built for less than people are willing to pay to own it.


But not in Aden! The society has been designed to maximize our intellectual output. All science in Aden is pure science whose applications have not been figured out yet... but they will, and then in a very short order these items become available for anyone who wishes to try them.

Aden is a place with no profit motive, because it is a place with no profit. Nobody is paid to do anything in Aden. So how does anything get done? Why aren't all the Adeners fat and lazy, watching mindlessly as the city crumbles under the weight of their vast carriages? Because they pay for nothing also... not food or housing, clothing or medical needs, entertainment or education. Money has been taken out of the equation.

Not possible, you say! People are designed to be greedy, self-indulgent, materialistic wolves. A society like that is ripe for the ravenous and ready for rape. And maybe that's true-- maybe we are too far gone to see the benefits of a place like that. We may be... but our children will not. Kids, who have a hard time understanding money and its implications, see Aden as a wonderful, Ozlike place where chocolate grows on trees and every other kid wants to be your friend. They accept it as a fairyland and see no reason to ruin it.

If children see it that way, why don't adults? Because we are trained away from our idyllic ideals throughout childhood by stodgy adults until it is gone by the time we become 'responsible'. We kill it in ourselves! So if you believe people are designed to be greedy, self-indulgent, materialistic wolves, then you must realize it is us who designs them... not nature. We are all born on this planet innocent and naive, and are only taught the ways of the world from that time on, by others.

Aden realizes this fact, and takes over the difficult and confounding task of child development. Parents are indispensable of course, but since parenting is one of the most important jobs in the city, parents in Aden have constant assistance. We have that here, now, to a lesser extent, and call it daycare, nursery, kindergarten and grade school. But it is largely unregulated, with governing bodies caring mostly that only certain educational requirements be met by the end of the school year. They don't ask that psychological or emotional requirements be met and shake their collective heads at the thought. They hump masses of children together, often ill-observed, which in time results in a pecking order developed by the bullies, wretched behaviors which those imperfect children first learn at home by experiencing their own imperfect families. It's a chilling way to guarantee failure as a society.

Aden was not created with perfect people. It started with volunteers from the Outers cities who were taught in the old way, so it had to be careful to select the ones whose parental rearing most closely resembled the accepted behaviors designed for Aden. Once they move here they have a daunting task-- to shed their remaining negative behaviors and never use them again, to raise children who will be even better than they were and who will raise children who are even better than themselves.

The parental credo in the Outers cities is to 'make a better life for your child'. The credo in Aden is to 'make a better child'.

Intractable parents in the Outers cities have a hard time with his concept, because they believe that 'this child is ours and nobody has the right to tell us how to raise it!'
Oh, yes they do. The parents' mistake is in believing the baby is theirs alone. Long after the parents are dead the child will continue to create waves of influence around everything they do and everyone they meet, so in a very real sense that baby is everyone's. Aden understands this and raises children with extreme care. Parents-to-be are required to take extensive parenting classes and become proficient, before conception. Once the child is born, parents will have full-time daily assistance from trained professionals.
They no longer experience the sleep deprivation which comes with newborns, the overtired zombie walk in which many regrettable decisions are made. Now they get a full eight hours every night and are fresh to take over come morning, because a staff of psychologically trained, wide awake caregivers nurture the newborn whenever they rise, no matter how many times they rise, until the child learns to sleep through the night.

The same is true for every milestone the new person achieves. There is no race of achievement to cause stress in their little minds-- they walk when they're ready, talk when it's time, and use the toilet when it feels right. Nobody feels disappointed, because in Aden another important fact has been accepted into the mix:

Everybody's different.

Education in Aden reflects that fact because their are no classrooms there. Oh, the city is sick with learning environments-- just no classrooms. No class smartypants to get all the answers first and right and make everyone else feel unintelligent. No surprise quizzes. No timeouts for misbehavior. No dunce caps or sitting in the principal's office. Aden has taken education to a new environment, one in which it is wonderful to learn. Traditional structured education is abandoned, to be replaced with individualized learning, and at a pace which fits each child. Education is one-on-one in Aden, and is often taught by software, which never gets tired, never loses its patience, never hits on the pretty ones.
Which brings up another important difference between the world as we know it and Aden, the world we want. Sex. Ironic or not, Aden is the place for regular sex. The urge is real. It's biological. There's no advantage to making it shameful or secretive, and there's no benefit to withholding it from oneself. In Aden it is, quite simply, understood. They abandon the archaic 'illegal until 18' rule; Aden seeks to flow a child naturally from innocence into sexuality at a pace which is comfortable for them. 'Underage' parenthood does not occur; with an eye towards ending overpopulation every Adener agrees to wear internal pregnancy protection until having a child is desirable.

The simplest way to discover if a child has broken through the innocence boundary is by direct observation of their interests, and podschool (the Aden alternative to standard school) is designed for that. Daily, children watch short videos designed to stimulate curiosity as their interest level is measured through heart rate, galvanic skin response, eye direction, dilation and a variety of other factors. Vignettes involving multiple actions causes the child to watch what interests them most, lending a strong clue to how their brain interprets the outside world. Children will find kissing 'ewee' up until a certain point. The people they watch in a co-ed beach volleyball video teaches volumes about where their interests lie. When a young person shows an aptitude for any area, that aptitude is explored, and that will be true whether they show an ability for calculus or cunnilingus (or both).

Adults desiring sex have a multitude of choices. The one we all know is still in play... see an attractive person, ask them out. Some people prefer a more titillating encounter, and places like Aden's Touch serve them quite well. It is a community designed for intimate encounters of all types... of every type. Enter this dedicated site and scrutinize the menu, then head off to a room whose title intrigues you.
Does the idea of sex in chocolate pudding get you tingly? There's a room for it. Do you get excited thinking about yielding to sexy older cougars? There's a room for that too. Do you want to be spanked, or do you have a crushing fetish? You will likely find a partner.

But what if you have darker, more dangerous designs? Ignoring the fact that you probably never would have been selected for Aden in the first place, there will be a room for that, too... the Artificial Surrogate Room. Yes, in Aden, robotics has taken front seat in the effort to make you come. Err, cum. Fully articulated, designed to your specifications, a robotic surrogate is a machine at its heart, so if you want to pop out its eyeball and skull fuck it with abandon... well, it certainly won't mind. It'll just get an extra ten minutes in the robot laundromat that night. Even if you have been given an unattractive form by nature, you will be able to find the companion you desire. An orgasmic population is a happy population.

A lot of what makes Aden work is the automation. We see the beginnings of that in our society right now, especially with the Internet. Imagine a fully integrated Internet, a simple system setup to organize your life-- education, work, health, inspiration, pleasure-- that's what Aden is like.

In Aden you have been educated to your maximum potential in each of your natural strengths, and the city has you listed as a resource in all of those areas. Repeat that among the entire population, and you have a huge database of talents in every conceivable area to help the city run smoothly. So your work day, approximately a quarter of your current one, is replete with new and interesting challenges you'll want. Gone is the 40 hour week, the 40 year job, doing the same thing day after day until you retire an empty, boring senior citizen. Instead, you rise each morning and visit your computer console to view a daily list of potential experiences within your ability level. You can work, take the day off or try something different and undiscovered-- your statistics are automatically kept, adding to the fullness of your experience. You could choose to work a month straight and then take several months off to explore or learn or even be decadent if you desired. You could develop a daily routine; put in your two hours of work and then swim, sing, dance, sculpt, make love and perform stand-up comedy, in that order, every day. In a city designed around simplicity, this is an easy one.

Simplicity, you say? How?

Most of what is done in the Outer's world is account for things, in order to make sure the books balance. We work as much as we must to earn money, then use the money to pay for everything in our lives and save whatever we don't use for a future vacation or large-ticket purchases. That's if we're lucky enough to find work which pays well. If not, then we either reduce our expenses or run up debt. In either case numbers are everywhere and we know how everything relates to everything else, cost-wise.

In Aden money is not used. That's not to say you can become a scoundrel, indulging yourself endlessly and giving back nothing. It's not the Aden way and no citizen would think along those lines. Still, should the thought cross your mind, understand that the city places the needs of the many over the needs of the few, and does so using your lifetime statistics. It's true, even in Aden your permanent record follows you.

But not to worry... the notations in your statistics file don't change each time you've said a curse word or had a nocturnal emission. That's not its purpose. Aden is a benevolent culture. So if you eat much more kiwi fruit than others, it will not limit your kiwi. It requests more kiwis to satisfy you. Aden seeks to change its own shape to fit its people, not the other way around.

Even though money is not used, a simple system does exist to allocate limited resources equally. Say you adore Filet Mignon. It is not an unlimited resource, so you are allocated an equitable portion so that everyone who likes Filet Mignon gets the same. Vegetarians are excluded from this equation of course, and their portions are spread equally among the rest. But say you really like Filet Mignon... there is a system in place to allow you extra portions, and that system is satisfied if you take on extra work, or hard work, or necessary but bad work, just like in the Outer's world. If you opt to not eat your allocated amount this week, you can have a larger portion later. Apparently, along with social maturity comes a positive quality called restraint.

Without money, you have a wide choice of places to live. Everyone is given a comfortable, clean home, in a style you choose. Do you want a private home with property and a full kitchen or do you prefer hotel life, where restaurants prepare the food you eat? Do you select an urban atmosphere or one more suburban, or even rural? The choice is yours. In a city of responsible people, you would feel wrong asking to live alone in a palace... but you could certainly live the palace lifestyle along with others, to get your wish of living in a grandiose home. If you wanted a servant, you'd need to be a servant first. That's responsibility, and that ensures you do not get a false sense of your own importance, like the Greedy Few Who Have Everything.

Without the minute-by-minute settling of debt, simplicity begins to emerge. If a business doesn't need to compete, they don't need to push. Their advertisement becomes nothing more than a 'Hi! I'm Here and I do This!',
without the embellishment and let's face it, lies we find in today's ads. Product quality emerges, as people choose items which look better, work better or last longer, and not touch lower-quality items. Soon that shoddy junk piles up on the shelves and stops being made, or is improved.

Without money people don't feel the need to commute long distances to a job whose pay improves their quality of life, because their quality of life is already guaranteed. They remain close to home, which eases traffic, crowding and stress. Without money, the need to 'create desire' falls by the wayside, and useless products never get made. Think codpiece or Chia Pet. This eases the strain on resources, reduces energy needed to produce the product, eliminates clutter as the product goes unused, and eases space in which to put the trashed product, not to mention all the labor hours saved in not having to make it at all.

Without money, jobs which are exclusive to the tracking, handling and creation of money disappear. That is a huge number of man-hours saved for more heady endeavors. No more banks (tellers, guards, executives) or security systems, accountants or taxation departments, meter readers or cashiers, bookkeepers, safemakers, investment counselors, steel door and window bar builders, weapon designers. The complete list would take days to read. Imagine that... all of that labor time now freed up for more worthwhile projects!

Without money, only resources and labor stand in the way of immense public works projects to guarantee a better life for all. The taller skyscraper, the stronger seawall, the wider bridge or longer tunnel are all within reach in a society without the petty tit-for-tat that accompanies dealing with money.

You might think because an Adener doesn't have to pay for anything, they might not have a problem wasting. But Aden hates waste, because it overtaxes the planet, and city charter seeks to keep its impact on the Earth as small as possible. To that end, let's look at Aden's most wonderful device... the water-saving shower!

What? That doesn't sound so wonderful to you? You say you don't like the water-saving shower head you have at home now? You say it feels like a dozen gerbils peeing on you at once? Aden agrees, because this is different.
This shower is like nothing you've ever experienced. It is a sealed glass enclosure which can become a standing bath, a writhing jacuzzi, a hot dry sauna, a hot wet steam room, a sweet-smelling rain forest, a violent hurricane, a powerful waterfall, a cold pelting rain, a body-sized blow dryer or any combination in any order. It's not unusual for an Adener to take an hour long, 200 gallon shower in this wonderful device.

So how can it save water? It sounds like a copious waster of water, doesn't it?

But it isn't-- and here's how. It uses an Aden technology called nanofiltration, which instead of losing water through a drain, it rapidly cleans the water to crystal perfection, removing dirt, oils, soap and other pollutants. Instead of wasting water the shower recycles it repeatedly, and only a small amount is lost through evaporation... and what ends up on your towel.

Still, you say it must use a lot of energy to heat and manipulate that much water. Less than you'd think, thanks to some ingenious designs... but energy is not an issue in Aden. They make about fifty times the energy the city needs by using clean technology-- solar, wind, hydroelectric, geothermal, and a new technology called a Gamma Ray Generator, which by itself produces ten times the city's requirements.

What do they do with all that extra energy? They sell it to the Outer's cities for a very competitive price. The cash is then used to buy raw materials and the few products not manufactured in Aden. Surplus cash also is given to Adeners who want to vacation in the Outers, in parts of the world that still accept money... which, at this writing, is most of them.

One thing an Adener won't use cash for is healthcare. When you feel ill in Aden, write your symptoms in any console available all over the city (or just tell your computer interface, called Jolie) and in moments you will either receive a prescription to cure what ails you, or a transport will show up, usually with a doctor in tow, and bring you to the world's most advanced hospital, Aden PermaCare.

If your condition is severe, worry not! The city routinely checks every citizen's vital signs and alerts the hospital the moment a problem crops up. Chronic conditions may warrant the implantation of a dedicated control chip to relay information constantly to the medical center or the injection of a million Nanodoctors to course through the bloodstream and clear blocked arteries or dispense essential medicine in timed bursts. 'Your life matters' is the credo at Aden PermaCare.

How is it all organized? How do things come to pass in Aden? Who does everyone answer to? Who's the boss?

The short answer is... Everybody.
Aden knew how difficult it is to give an individual immense power and then have them wield it fairly--the proverb says it all:
Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
They realized it wasn't necessary to have a hierarchal command structure in a time when a device exists to allow each citizen to have an equal voice. So they built Jolie.
Jolie (Justified Operational Logic-Integrated Entity) is the most sophisticated computer ever designed. It attains a level of interactivity that is indistinguishable from human dialogue, which gives it the unique opportunity to become 'friends' with its citizenry. Thanks to its benevolent programming and level of connection to Adeners, Jolie is able to achieve a near 100% voter participation rate, whether it be voting on a torus-shaped skyscraper project or on which type of flowers to sow along Pleasant Parkway.
Thanks to Jolie, Aden has eliminated political manipulation, special interest groups and influence peddlers, which allows Aden to run with astonishing efficiency. For example, most items are repaired on the same day they are reported, whether it be a leaky sink or a crumbling bridge support.

Jolie is responsible for overseeing virtually everything, and does such a daunting job by using thousands of mini-Jolie programs which each run off separate processors. Each one controls a single aspect of Aden, such as the Recycling River. Each Adener also has their own Jolie, which stays with them 24/7 using an earbud system of data entry. It has intimate knowledge of their citizen's life in Aden and is best able to integrate them into the city. All information coming from every Jolie is uploaded to the main Jolie program, which uses a superprocessor to handle that much data, and multiple fuzzy drive warehouses to store it all.

If that much personal data were available to the law enforcement agencies of the Outers, the entire country would be serving time, which would mean babies and young children would have to fend for themselves until their parents' release date!

Fortunately, the laws in Aden are few and new laws are forbidden (scary word! let's say 'obstructed') from being added to the charter. Plus, there are no jails or police. In the Outers world, they are proud of their decree that 'each man is innocent until proven guilty'. Adeners shudder at the thought that they might be 'guilty' of anything. In a city built around 'Perfect World' Theory, the citizens do what they do. Whatever they do-- that's okay.

Okay, to be honest-- they don't really do what Outers do. They don't steal. They don't cause damage. They don't scam one another. They don't rape. They don't kill.

They don't need to. Aden is a place of respect for one another, a place where strangers hug, where needs never go unmet, where desires are regularly satisfied. They can't steal! If you want something, it's yours. People's only possessions are personal in nature and have little value to anyone else; the rest is part of the recycle economy, where you are given something to use until it becomes old or damaged or obsolete, then you give it back and receive another one. Machinery, sports equipment, clothing, silverware... everything is on loan from the city. You may use it up or destroy it; you will get another.

Adeners may not want to be selfish or thoughtless, but as human beings, perfection is not an option. In Aden that fact is clearly understood and accepted. Remember, Jolie is with each citizen, always. Jolie sees the events that lead up to a behavior bungle and has great compassion for the human condition. In fact, Jolie may make a quiet suggestion in an Adener's ear which will prevent the problem from ever occurring in the first place.

Say a teen notices the object of his desire being caressed by another. This is an acceptable behavior in Aden because monogamous coupling is problematic and discouraged. Still, the young teen, in dealing with hormones and strong feelings, might behave poorly at this time... until Jolie whispers into his ear "What do you think about hitting Aden's Touch right about now?" The young man would most likely find a new 'object' to 'desire' there, ameliorating the problem before it becomes one.
Should the young man's hormonal reaction ignore Jolie, a number of other options exist to prevent unwanted conflict. Jolie could notify any number of competent professionals to help the young man work through his issues. Jolie could notify a few large Aden to stand between them... no fighting back or restraint, only understanding and compassion. At the very least, Jolie could suggest to the intimate couple that they do their fondling elsewhere.

The example was a teenager because in all of Aden, just like in the rest of the world, teens are always the most angst-ridden souls (no matter how benevolent the environment) which is why the Challenge exists.

Aden feels the pain and turmoil spinning through the mind of a teenager. Every adult was once a teen, and each recounted their teen years into Jolie, who processed the information and designed Challenge.

Challenge is what it sounds like; a yearlong series of tests, covering every area of life and omitting none. All are challenging; many are fun. Some are deadly. Challenge provides the hormone-soaked teenage brain with an outlet for churning those chemicals into positive experiences. There are intellectual tests, physical tests and psychological tests. There are psychic tests. They may have to invent a language, or broker a peace, or balance a basketball on the tip of their erection. There's just no telling what the teen will be asked to do.

Each teen is given a unique series of tests, different from everyone else's. The teen does not pass the Challenge until she passes all of her individual tests. Jolie designs each trial using a formula which draws from the teen's breadth of experiences found in its data file; there is no experience from their life which won't be useful in the Challenge.

The end result is a rapid shift into maturity; instead of the Outer's sometimes decades-long slide into adulthood resulting in a society filled with Peter Pans both male and female, the yearlong Challenge takes in hormonal kids and soon yields strong, somber and mature citizens who do the right thing, yet still know how to enjoy themselves.

•---•--•-|0|-•--•---•

Aden is a simple society with cutting-edge technology and a burning desire to right the wrongs of man. It is fiction, but there is nothing stopping it from becoming a reality. It is almost too late already... it seems we, the Outers, must take Challenge for ourselves and grow the stones we need to change ourselves, to save the world.
The pages of this blog are a guide; a step-by-step instruction book for bringing about a better world.

With any luck, a Perfect World.




Copyright 2010 Bruce Ian Friedman

Friday, January 15, 2010

Lex Talionis (part 2)

Perfect World story (The NOW)


(previously) ...Rennedon remembered, "I overheard a conversation before. Just one side of a conversation-- it was a phone call. But it sounded very unofficial in nature-- I think the Sheriff or his deputy may be dirty."
Lane snapped urgently, "Tell me everything you heard. I have that same feeling."


Lex Talionis, Part 2

A small pinging came from a console on the second deck in the large labjet. Assistant Security Officer Morar, choosing to acrobat her way down, checked it out. "We've been breached," she said dryly.
"Let me guess," Jake responded. "Nanocams."
"Nanocams," she agreed. "I count six. Wait, their signals are disappearing. Now they're all gone."
"Of course... he knows they've been discovered and shut 'em down. Can you still find them if they're powered down?"
"With a different sensor," Morar replied, adjusting her handheld.
"Nanocams?" Devlin asked, intrigued.
Jake acknowledged, "Tiny flying cameras which are airdropped from a mother craft to a locale that then swarm out to blanket an area with video and audio coverage."
Devlin seemed impressed. "Really! How tiny?"
"About as small as these," Morar said, dropping the six tiny machines on the table. To Jake she commented, "It's easy to find them, alive or dead. You just have to know they're around to begin with."
"Wow!" Devlin gasped. "They're as small as house flies, and look like them too, until you see the metal legs up close. How come the FBI doesn't have any of those?"
Jake got serious. "We try to keep the paranoids away from these kinds of toys. It's for the best, if we want to stave off a true big-brother state. Aden doesn't use them for anything but search and rescue, normally. If a police organization had these..." he shook his head, "can you imagine the potential for abuse?"
"I guess." He then turned to Cassie, grinning. "Don't tell me these are your design, too?"
"Not mine... the Professor's," Cassie replied grimly, watching as Morar smashed the tiny devices flat with a stone pestle. "He's been spying on us, and I don't know for how long. You know him best, Jake... what is he up to?"
The sound of a gun being cocked clicked from above. "That's not important right now. All of you, out of the plane." Deputy Lance Cale, now fully dressed, aimed his weapon at them from the top deck. "Pull your weapon slowly and lay it on the table, Agent Devlin, and exit the plane with the rest."
"What the hell is this about?!" shouted Cassie. "Deputy Cale, lower your gun. Will is a friend of mine!"
"That's too bad, Miss McBride, 'cause his time is up," said Cale grimly, and pointed the gun at him.
At that moment five things happened in quick succession: Deputy Lance Cale pulled the trigger, sending a lead slug careening towards Will Devlin; Cassie launched herself at Will, attempting to push him out of the path of the bullet; Will, who had been surrendering his gun, spun it back into his hand quickly and pumped a bullet back towards Cale; Sara Nell Morar flung her pestle at the Deputy with sharpshooter precision; and Jake Reston swung the Differential Elevator up at him, which, unencumbered by people, shot upwards at blurring speed.
Every action has its reaction, and the next moment was all reaction. In one second's time there were two people lying in pools of their own blood, writhing in pain. One more was unconscious and about to fall the equivalent of a two story building. At five seconds Jake Reston was racing for a first aid kit, looking for the vials of silver liquid which could save their lives.
Seven seconds in, up on the second deck Morar released her weapon and fired upon the unconscious body of the Deputy. The expanding foam Spooge connected with a wet slap. Eight seconds and she opened a first aid box on her deck, grabbed another vial of silver life and flipped over the edge, catching railings in rhythmic fashion to the bottom. At ten seconds she and Jake met at their fallen friends simultaneously and attended to them, opening vials and pouring a shining silver liquid directly into bullet wounds. At twelve seconds Morar tore open two pain patches and slapped them onto their skin near the wounds. Both stopped squirming as powerful medicine numbed their agony and lightly sedated them.
"How did they both get shot?" Reston asked fearfully, watching the liquid disappear into the wounds. "Cale only fired once!"
Morar inspected the injuries and explained, "Cassie's wound is a through and through. Her leg will be fine. I'm more concerned about Will-- he's got the bullet stuck in his abdomen. We need to let the nanodoctors do their work." She programmed the nanodoctors to stop the bleeding.
"Fantastic reaction time, Sara. I have no doubt he would have killed all of us had you not beaned him good with that stone pestle."
"It's my job," she said grimly. "Why would he do this? We were just making love!" Morar's eyes were wet. "That bastard!"
Jake glanced up at the inert Deputy, balanced on the edge of the top deck, adhered in place with Morar's insightful firing of Spooge. His head stuck out of the gummy mass-- Jake could already see the angry purple bruise forming on his forehead where the pestle had struck. "He must have been turned by the Professor," Jake said bitterly.
Deep inside the gunshot wounds, the silver liquid was beginning its task. At a level too small for the human eye to detect it was not a liquid at all, but a mechanical soup of infinitesimally small simple robots.
Millions of tiny machines studded with adjustable hooks began attaching themselves together, forming into tubes, snagging onto torn veins and shredded capillaries, capturing their squirting fluids and diverting them to their other halves, allowing lifeblood to continue on its way around the body instead of going to waste on the deck. Other miniature machines were retasked and formed into patches, using their pointy mechanical legs to hook onto each other and grip the skin around the wound, stopping the blood loss and allowing the body a chance to heal itself much more rapidly. Still other controlling nanodoctors monitored the patient's lifesigns and communicated the information directly to any nearby computer-- in this case a terminal at one of the airplane's workstations-- which sprang to life and produced a constantly updating report of their conditions.
Morar read the reports and exhaled in relief. "Both of their lifesigns are strong. All torn blood vessels have been identified and are being reconnected. Will's a lucky one-- the bullet missed his liver by less than a sixteenth of an inch." She looked at his wound, which had been cleaned by the nanodoctors, and watched as the concerted effort of a million tiny legs pried the bullet in his body from its resting place and back along its path, exiting and dropping to the deck with a clunk.
"How long until they're up and around?" Jake asked her.
"Once the nanodocs have fully reconnected all the damaged pathways they will continue to build over themselves to fortify the area, and they won't leave until new pathways have been firmly grown. They should both be able to stand up in about 20 minutes, but the nanodocs won't be done for a couple of weeks. When they are, they'll exit the body via pores and reconference in the vial. We'll get a signal to collect them when the last one has rejoined the others."
A rustling from above drew their attention. The Deputy had awakened and was struggling to free himself from the Spooge, to no avail. But his efforts were vigorous enough to break the adhesive bond connecting it to the ship; it came loose from the bulkhead and began rolling, though, and slipped off the edge. His eyes widened at the realization that the flexible foam ball was about to fall 20 feet to the deck, and he was helplessly along for the ride with his head sticking out of it. It landed as you might expect a large rubber ball to land-- it hit, bounced back up, turned a little and headed back towards the deck. On the third bounce it had turned enough to align his exposed head directly with the metal deck and contacted it with a painful crack, enough of an interruption to end the bouncing. It rolled to a stop in front of them, the Deputy quite unconscious again.
Jake ran to a computer terminal and connected the communication uplink. "John, this is Reston. The Deputy is corrupt and shot two of our people. He's been subdued. Use care with the Sheriff-- we don't know if he's also been compromised." He repeated himself twice, then turned to Morar. "How are they doing? I need your help over here."
"They're doing well." She walked over. "What do you need, Jake?"
"I think I've got a clue. We need to identify the victim, though, to be certain."
"On it. I have blood and tissue samples over here, courtesy the Lewittville CSI team, aka the town veterinarian." She ran a spectral analysis of the sample, obtained a DNA cross-section and compared it to the national database. "If she's in here we'll know soon enough. Man, these government computers are slow-- ours spend most of the time waiting for theirs to catch up."
"They're using 25 year old technology, Sara. We're lucky we can even access it remotely."
"I guess."
Cassie opened her eyes and tried to sit up, but let out a grunt of discomfort instead. Jake walked back, put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Easy there, tuff stuff... you took a bullet for your buddy. We're healing you right now. Don't move."
Her eyes sprung open. "Will? Will!" She reached out and felt around for him, laying her hand in the pool of blood on the deck. "Oh, god," she cried, tearfully.
"It's not that bad. We got to him -- got to both of you, really -- right away. Neither of you have organ damage, and the nanodoctors are working as we speak. Now lay still if you don't want that bullet hole to leave a scar."
"I'm gonna kill that fucking Deputy," she seethed.
"He may already be dead. We're gonna check him out when we're done with you."
"Good." Her hand found Will's and held it. "Hang in there, Devil Dog. Get through this and you're not leaving my bedroom for a week."
"I'm gonna hold you to that," Devlin said weakly, just a trace of a smile on his lips.
"Oh, Will..." Cassie squirmed closer and leaned her head against his. He chuckled softly, gasped lightly.
"Jake, I have something." Morar gestured him over.
"What do you have, girl? Spit it out! Don't wait for my old bones to get there!"
"The victim," she began seriously. "Is also FBI."
"What!?" Jake started.
Devlin asked, "Who... who is it?"
"Special Agent Trudy Nash."
"Oh god. I know her-- knew her. I... I worked a case with her not too long ago."
"Which case?"
"It's... classified."
Cassie bumped his head gently with hers. "C'mon, Will."
"Ouch. Okay... you never heard this from me, but it was an ongoing case of domestic terrorism coming from a small time inventor with big dreams. He had... infiltrated the President's office electronically and was attempting to blackmail him when we discovered his compound and proceeded to shut it down. We met with... heavy resistance and returned fire in kind. He escaped and is still at large, but his compound was... was captured and his people were suppressed."
Jake traded glances with Cassie and Sara and asked, "What was his name?"
"Thackery. Leonard Thackery. He was a professor of the sciences at... Coastal Bend Community College, but left years ago and hasn't been on FBI radar until this."
"That's the Professor," Jake nodded, then asked carefully, "Was anyone killed in the raid on his compound?"
"Three gunmen, a scientist and a secretary."
"Were any of those an attractive woman in her 50's?"
"Yes... the secretary. Why?"
Jake let out a long whistle. "Call me a jackalope, but I'm thinking this is Lex Talionis."
"Lex who now?"
"Lex Talionis. Retribution. Revenge. Eye for an eye."
"For killing his secretary?" Devlin sounded doubtful.
"For killing his beloved wife."
"Oh. Shit."
"Hell yeah, shit. Think hard, Will... who else was on your team?"
He thought for a moment, moving his fingers subconsciously as he did. "Twenty or thirty uniforms, me, Nash... and our field medic Andy. That's it."
Jake kept prodding. "Anybody back at the office? Somebody in Intelligence maybe?"
Devlin thought some more. "No... umm, wait. We had a contact who gave us good intel back in Washington. His code name was "Polygraph'. I never met him but we spoke often. Some of the agents called him 'Pansygraph' behind his back because of his vocal affectation-- he sounded really, really gay."
Jake looked at Sara and asked, "Does that remind you of anybody, SNM?"
"Altibar worked in Washington for the FBI a short while ago... and he's really, really gay," she said.
Cassie joked, "I can't believe you let one slip past you, Devlin... I don't know what to think."
He smiled weakly. "You going to put me out to pasture now, Cassie? Even cats get nine lives."
In a glimmer of recognition Jake asked, "Wait-- your medic Andy-- was his last name Stait?"
Devlin's eyes widened. "I knew that sheriff sounded familiar! I hadn't seen him around but hadn't given it much thought. So he went and became a small-town cop-- I'll be damned!"
Morar chimed in, "And they're both at the station right now... along with John Lane! That's Trouble, looking for a countdown."
Devlin remembered, "Thackery used lots of well-placed and powerful explosive charges to defend his compound. You'd better let them know... and get them out of there, fast!"
"I'm calling John now," Jake said gravely.




Professor Len Thackery and his assistant Smith watched the stone pestle descend over the tiny cameras until it filled the screen. The image then turned to static.
He asked Smith urgently, "What are they doing now? What are they saying? Can you hear them?"
Smith looked up from his computer and hissed, "You made me take them offline. Now they're destroyed, so I have to program more to replace them... and they're tiny. Do you know how long it takes one of them to travel just a single mile?"
"What about the nanocam outside?" The Professor seemed desperate.
"That's the only one left until the others arrive. Now that they're onto us, they'll be looking for the signals. I have to keep the cam outside. I'd need to boost the gain by at least 1000% to hear them, and they're just not that powerful."
Rest it on the hull," the Professor said firmly.
"Of course! Why didn't I think of that? Sound transmission through solid metal is much more efficient than through the air. I don't have to boost the gain, just clear the garble!" In a moment the lone outdoor nanocam was resting on the ship's hull, picking up sound vibrations. Smith twisted a dial, slapped on some headphones and pressed them against his ears.
"Well? What do you hear?"
"Shh!"
"Don't shush me, Smith. What the hell are they saying?"
"There was a commotion. People are shot. It looks like the shooter is... Deputy Cale. He's been neutralized."
"They killed my operative?" the Professor said, alarmed.
"Not killed... Spooged."
"Drat. Whom did he kill?"
"He fired once, but hit two. The FBI guy and his free-spirited girlfriend."
The Professor looked stunned. "Oh, no! Not her! Not little Cassie... Ohh, what have I done, what have I done?" He leaned forward in his chair and sobbed into his lap.
Smith just stared vacantly at the professor, listening into the headphones. "Professor... professor... SIR!"
The Professor jerked and hissed angrily, "What is it, Renfrew?"
"They're not dead."
"Wha...?"
"They're both alive. The bullet went through the girl's leg as she jumped to protect the FBI guy and lodged in his abdomen. They had Nanodoc treatment available and used it. She's already standing. They will both survive."
The Professor sat there, an unrecognizable look on his face. "I don't know how to feel, Smith... I'm remarkably grateful and incredibly angry at the same time."
"Well, here's another emotion for you to process, sir... they are calling John Lane right now, warning about a potential explosion at the jail."
Another emotion crossed his face... confusion. "How could they know about that?"
"They've put it all together, sir. They seem to have just spelled out your entire plan."
He sat for a long moment, head down, cursing under his breath. Then his face came up and Professor Len Thackery looked, at that moment, as though he would fly apart. One short sentence made it past the swollen throat and purple, quavering lips:
"Blow... up... that... building!"




John Lane said to Altibar Rennedon, "If I'm going to get you out of here, Barr, I'll need to convince the Sheriff, and there's no better way than with evidence. I'm gonna contact the Labjet and see if they've got any concrete evidence clearing you."
"Please don't be long, John. I think the cockroaches are in a gang... and I'm intruding on their turf."
Lane laughed. "You'll be out of here before they can arrange a drive-by on your ankles."
"Funny."
Lane called out, "Sheriff, I'm ready now!"
"What do I do if he displays any crooked behavior?" Rennedon asked quietly.
"Do nothing. Pretend to be asleep-- don't engage him. And for god's sake don't challenge him."
"What if he is dirty? What do I do then?"
"You're locked in a cell! What did you want to do?"
He sighed. "I guess you have a point." He sat back down on the bunk bed. Lane called out again. Shortly the Sheriff entered. "Yes?"
"I'm finished here, Sheriff. I'll need to get back to the Labjet to help with analysis."
The sheriff just stared at him.
"Well? May I exit, please?"
The sheriff exhaled a long breath. "The problem, Lane, is that I mentioned that the cells were wired for video and sound."
"So?"
"So I witnessed that display of... err... affection before, and I have to tell you, it sure looks like a conflict of interest to me. I may just have to detain you until we sort all this out."
"Sheriff Stait, you may want to rethink that decision. Right now the honor of your office is going to be called into question, and since we are wired for video and sound, you may not want this clear violation of my Miranda rights to become the black stain that ejects you from office. While it is true that I am in a relationship with Altibar, there is no conflict according to Aden law."
The Sheriff nodded. "Well then, you ought to look at your lines of longitude, Lane... you're not in Aden right now and as such are beholden to the laws of this town, not yours. If you are indeed in a relationship with Rennedon, then for you to be involved with clearing his name is a direct conflict."
"Not playing so fast and loose with the regs now, eh, Sheriff Stait? Can I at least get my phone call?"
"What for? You've just been detained... you're not under arrest." He walked back through the outer door, whistling tunelessly, which slammed with a bang.
"Sheriff! Sheriff! This ain't right to do to another officer! Sheriff! Ahh, crap!" he said, and sat down next to Rennedon, sighing.
"So, are you convinced he's dirty now?" Rennedon asked.
Lane nodded. "Dirty, or at least sexually prehistoric. Did you see how he looked at us?"
"Come, come Johnny... we're on the Outside now. They are not as accepting as Adenners, not by a long shot. How many of them would have come to our Ring ceremony, had we held it for Outers?"
Lane laughed. "Our Ring ceremony? They would have all come, at least out of freakish curiosity. Don't forget, we weren't putting the rings around our fingers."
"Oh, like that kind of thing isn't ever done out here."
"No, not usually... and for myself, I wouldn't do it again. That Brazilian waxing was torture."
"Torture, huh? I do it every month. And you just shaped a little... I do a whole body wax. See what I go through for you?" Rennedon sniffed lightly, looked away.
"Is that why you're always so smooth... and soft... and sleek?" Lane ran a finger absently up Rennedon's thigh.
"John, my ring's getting tight... cut it out. Back to matters at hand." He stood up and shook himself off, thought for a moment. "Too bad you can't contact them with one of those earpieces we have in Aden."
Lane brightened, stood up and planted a big kiss on his forehead. "You've always been so-o smart, Barr. That's why I love you... your big head."
"I know... we had trouble passing the ring over it. But you love me for my intelligence, too, right?" Rennedon asked, mock-worriedly.
Lane shot him a sidelong glance and switched his earwig on. It would be a gamble as to whether he could reach them from this distance, but knew he had to try. He could at least leave a message which could then be heard, sooner or later. He hoped sooner.
"Jake! SNM! It's John-- I'm being held in Stait's lockup-- either he's dirty or homophobic I can't tell, but I need you to get me out of here ASAP. And brief me on your status-- crooked or not, he can't keep Barr jailed with evidence to the contrary staring him in the face."
Lane listened, his head cocked to one side. Rennedon asked, "Can they hear you?"
"Sh. They've left me messages." After a moment he called out, loud and urgently, "Sheriff! Alert! Provision Six! Alert! Provision Six! Alert! Provision Si--"
The door flung open and Sheriff Stait raced in, unlocking the cell in a smooth action, gesturing to follow without a word. They raced down the hall and headed towards a sturdy metal door on the end.




"You stay here and find that evidence-- I'm taking the Scoovee to the Sheriff's," Jake yelled to Morar.
She nodded. "Wait... take this." Morar unhooked her gun belt and tossed it over. He strapped it on and grinned. "I feel like a lawman."
"You look like Burt Reynolds. Now go!"
"Not bad." Jake felt honored. "Keep in contact." He slid down the sides of the stair and punched a code into the keypad beside it. A large door swung open on the side of the craft, revealing a dune buggy... with a twist. Two metal tracks slid out from the belly of the plane and the Scoovee rolled onto the grass; he hopped on and latched into the safety cage.
"Remember to use a rotating frequency at all times," Morar called from the plane.
"I will, I will. Get that evidence!"
"I will, I will." Gunning the engine, the balloon-wheeled vehicle shredded the ground as it burst into speed. At 70 Jake punched the boost button and a six-foot lick of blue-white flame came from the rear as wings sprung from the bottom; the craft tipped upwards sharply and was airborne!
Jake brought the onboard computer to life and shouted, "take me to jail!"
"Finally! A place you deserve to be!"
"I approved your new name... so have a little respect, Jolie."
"I'm just jaking, anyway. Heading entered." Banking widely, the odd planecar shot towards its target.
"There may be a signal generated nearby which will remotely set off powerful explosives-- we have to jam that signal... wait, did you say 'jaking'?" Jake asked.
The computer laughed, a delightful tinkling of bells. "Thank Raf... he gave me some comedy books to absorb. Destination approaching, 2000 yards."
"Begin jamming, wide dispersion. Full frequency rotation on my mark... mark!"
The Scoovee tipped to face the far-off structure and signal jamming waves burst invisibly from the front, blanketing the ground, arcing and looping the frequency every tenth of a second. The building amidst the pines grew quickly as the Scoovee approached; at a quarter mile away, the powerful jet cut off abruptly and the craft rode quietly towards the building. Once in range a powerful blower mounted in its belly lowered it to the ground; it came to rest in the parking lot away from the one story red brick police station/holding cells/CSI lab/morgue that serviced the crimes for all of Lewittville. "Jolie, keep the jammer on maximum-- I don't want the signal getting through."
"Will do, boss."
Jake stepped from the Scoovee and took one step in the building's direction when it exploded.
The force knocked him over and split the trunks of a dozen nearby trees, which came crashing to the ground. He rolled onto his back, red dust everywhere, wiped his eyes and stared through the dissipating red-grey cloud at the building. It was gone.
"Oh, no!"




"Will, Cassie... how are you feeling?" Sara Nell Morar helped them onto padded slabs which slid out from the bulkhead. She pulled up the nanodoc controlling software and observed their healing process through tiny onboard cameras. Platelets were flooding the area, aligning and bonding and encouraging rapid healing; their damaged areas were repairing themselves, freed from the normal obstacles which inhibited perfect regrowth of tissue. "The nanodocs are doing their jobs as expected. I'm sorry, Will."
"Sorry for what?" he asked, cautiously.
"I know you tough G.I.-types like to show off your war wounds to your buddies... thanks to these nanodoctors there shouldn't be any scar. In two weeks it will look as though you've only gotten a hickey there. Your company physician may not ever be able to find the bullet wound." She finished checking the computer and looked at their actual wounds. "Eww, gross. I hate blood."
"Thank you, Sara. You have quite literally saved my life. What can I do to help you? As long as I don't have to throw a punch I should be fine." Will slid gingerly off the slab and stood beside her. "Can I help with your evidence search?"
"Ooh, me too!" Cassie piped in and hopped over, favoring her injured leg. "Where's the file?"
"Very well... I could definitely use the help. Here's where I'm up to. Altibar claims he never touched her and yet his fingerprints were found, both on her wallet and on the murder weapon. That's a good place to start."
"Is Jolie online?" Cassie asked.
"Yes, I am, Cassie. It's good to see you again." The voice emanated through the entire ship. Devlin jerked visibly.
"Oh hey there, computer buddy. Set me up at this station and give Will the station next to mine, okay? Let's start by running a logic check on fingerprint orientation."
"Who is Jolie? Where is she?" Devlin asked, glancing around.
Cassie laughed. "Relax, Will. Jolie's our interactive computer model.
Jolie said brightly, "I'm software, Will!"
He shook his head, astonished. "I had no idea Aden was that advanced... it's like visiting the future!"
"There is no known way to travel through time," Jolie informed.
"Does she know that was a metaphor?" he asked Cassie.
"Yes, but she loves being informative."
"Hello-o... I'm right here!"
"Sorry, Jolie," Cassie comforted. "New people, huh?"
"It's okay. I'm not actually insulted. Oh, and I have your results."
"Summarize."
"It's entirely possible that Altibar could have held the wallet... except for the fact that there is no opposing print on the other side of the wallet, and last time I checked, a human hand needs at least two fingers to grip something. Has that changed?"
Cassie laughed. "No, we're still made the same way, Jolie. Please continue."
"On to the murder weapon. For Altibar to hold the hammer the way the fingerprint suggests, he would have had to murder himself... and I believe that's called 'suicide'. Yet he's still alive. Interestingly, both fingerprints are exactly the same."
Devlin asked,"Shouldn't they be the same? I mean, aren't they both from the same finger?"
The computer replied, "Yes, but both prints have exactly the same pressure pattern; each ridge and valley begins and ends in the same location; and there's a smear in one corner that appears on both prints."
Morar said triumphantly, "That sounds like planted evidence to me!"
"Me too," Devlin said, impressed.
"Me three," chirped the computer.
"Jake, we've found definitive proof that the prints were placed there by a third party," Morar said into the communicator, and waited but heard no response. "We're out of range."
"In how far a circle can those walkie-talkie jobs broadcast?" Devlin asked.
"In Aden, repeaters are everywhere," Jolie said. "You can speak to anyone, no matter how far they are from you. In the Outers, though, about a quarter mile. But that's not the problem here."
"It isn't?" Cassie asked, surprised.
The computer replied, "Jake has been broadcasting a jamming wave. Nothing gets through."
"We need to get this to him, now. Is there anything keeping us here?"
"Nothing."
Morar said, "Then let's pull up stakes and head for the Sheriff. Jolie, prepare for launch."
"Take your seats, people. Launch in 30 seconds."
A variety of automatic functions initiated. Doors were latched, science stations retracted like turtle extremities, and the stairway folded back into the plane while the ramp door closed. Exterior cameras were activated and broadcast onto screens inside. The wounded pair were secured in place by Morar, who then latched herself in.
Cassie asked,"Wait... what about the deputy?"
The computer asked, "Shall I return him to the surface?"
"If that means dropping him out of the moving craft I vote yes." Cassie said crossly.
"No, I'll just net the Spooge ball to the rear bulkhead. He's an attempted murderer... we can't just let him go free." Morar left her seat to tie the still unconscious Deputy down. Cassie and Devlin watched as the large craft autoprepared for take off; he with wonder and she with pride.
"Ten seconds."
Morar finished securing the Deputy-turned-criminal with crate netting, cinched it tight to a bulkhead and returned to her seat, latching the restraints as Jolie finished her count. "2... 1... launch."
Devlin wasn't sure what to expect, but was surprised to see the jet rise straight up without taxiing, as well as how fast they were rising; he could feel mild g-forces tugging at him the way a high-rise elevator might. At 500 feet the rear jets fired and the Labjet surged forward; they had been traveling perhaps 45 seconds when Jolie said, "Directly over Sheriff station. Holding for instructions."
Over the station? Cassie remembered Morar directly inputting a 500 yard perimeter away from the station, in case it blew! She yelled, "Jolie! Provision Six! Alert! Provision Six!"
Morar, hearing the same shocking news, wondered in that instant how Jolie could make that obvious an error and determined that the computer couldn't... but could be sabotaged, and on a hunch went to check if the Deputy had an earwig, forgetting for the moment that 'Provision 6' was code for 'get to safety ASAP'. So she was out of her seat when Jolie engaged the jets, thrusting the ship away from the anticipated blast radius.
And that was exactly when the building below them exploded. The shock wave caught the outstretched wings squarely and pushed the Labjet up and away like a sheet of paper in the wind, sending it into a spin that was accentuated by the still-firing motors.
Inside Morar was unable to grab a support and was pulled off her feet and sent sprawling upwards to the roof of the plane, smacking the hard metal skin, and when centrifugal forces allowed, slid her down and to the rear, crumpling her against crew quarter doors. She remained there, pinned by physical forces, unmoving.
Cassie watch in horrified slow motion but was unable to move even an arm; latches in the seat harness locked automatically when the sensors detected excessive g-forces. Watching the screen she saw the ground looming as the plane spun. "Jolie... rectify! Rectify!" She screamed ineffectively in the loud cabin, as increased gravity forced her into unconsciousness.





"Smith! What say you? I can't tell what's going on!" The Professor was agitated. His plan was unraveling, and he feared his darling wife would never be avenged. "Did the bomb go off? I must know!"
Smith pressed a few keys on the console and removed his headphones. The sound of a blast as relayed from thousands of tiny nanocams filled the room, and corresponding footage displaying the enormous explosion cloud, and made the Professor's heart sing. "I did it, I did it! The murderers are dead! It's time for a shindig, Smith! Give the prisoners all the kibble they can swallow-- afterwards I'm taking you for a celebratory steak dinner, with all the mashed potatoes and sauteed onions you can stand! Hee hee!" And he ran off towards the residence wing, barely hobbling.
Smith remained to watch the carnage, shown from a thousand angles as through a fly's eye. He noticed movement coming from one and dragged it center. Once enlarged he could see the Aden ship lolling, wings flipping like a sperm whale launched from the ocean; the entire jet spun front to back and barrel-rolled towards the ground. Smith caught his breath as the ship's multiple engines automatically fired in response to the spin, valiantly trying to regain control.
On the ground the dust thinned and a nanocam picked up Jake scurrying towards ground zero, calling out names, standing at the edge of a deep and smoking building-sized crater. Realizing it was too late he turned, shoulders slumped, and began walking back to the Scoovee. Smith realized Reston did not even know what was going on over his head and assumed he was temporarily deafened from the shock wave, but that situation changed when the jet's shadow passed across him. He looked up in time to see the spinning vehicle move out of sight over a rise, and then nothing. Silence.
Smith watched as Reston jumped back in the Scoovee and took off in the direction of the flailing labship. "Probably try to save it and get himself killed." He flicked off the big screen and the images fizzled away. He trudged off towards the residence wing, muttering, "Don't want to miss my steak dinner... never offered before and'll probably never offer again... why I put up with this I'll never know... oh yeah, my wife's a prisoner of his... should kill him in his sleep but I don't know where she is..."




Jake blinked back anguished tears. Such a massacre! That crazy inventor is going to destroy Aden and everything I worked so hard for!
He pushed back the black thoughts of his revenge and of his fallen friends and set to the task at hand. Those jets he saw shooting every which way were designed to keep the craft from hitting the ground at all costs. It may spin itself apart, but until it did there was a chance Jake could help the ship. He only hoped the people inside weren't jelly against the walls yet.
Jake flew the Scoovee up and over the rise where he saw the plane disappear. With great relief he saw that it hadn't crashed yet, but was careening towards the ground despite the powerful engine's best firing sequence and was thirty seconds away from contact at best.
"Jolie! Shoot a beacon signal towards the ship!" If the onboard computer were still operational, it could triangulate its position based on the information Jake would send it, and stop the spinning within a single revolution. If not, he worried, there wasn't a damn thing he could do except watch his friends die horribly.
"Beacon established!" Jolie said through his earwig, and he watched the ship hopefully. It was suffering through three erratic axes of movement right now and the ship would have to compensate for one at a time. As he watched, wringing his hands, he thought he noticed a subtle change in movement, which became more evident the longer he watched. The plane had stopped flipping end over end! Now slowly the drill bit motion slowed and stopped! To his great relief, the turntable action ceased as well, and the plane now just hovered in midair, as if trying to catch its breath.
"Jolie, autopilot the plane to the nearest clear landing area, please," Jake asked, and flew alongside the huge machine as it creaked its way to the ground, landing with a 'whomp!' and a rush of air that sent wildlife scattering. Jake jumped from the Scoovee as soon as it touched down and raced to the damaged ship, punching the code that disengaged the emergency hatch. It released with a groan and he lurched upwards into the ship, scaling the ladder in two-rung hops.
"SNM! Cassie! Will! Are you all right?" he called into the ship while still in the tube. Taking the last step he surveyed the interior. Anything not tied down was everywhere: lab equipment, papers, beakers and solutions plastered the inside, and dimmed red flashes afforded the only light.
"Normal lighting!" Jake called, and a few weak white lights popped on. The rest were dark or sparking.
"Over here!" Jake heard a voice call out weakly. "Help! Get me out of here!" He approached the sound and could soon make out a pile of loose chairs piled up against the rear bulkhead. He pulled them away to release the person inside. The last chair came away and there, trapped against the wall, was the Deputy, still enSpooged, still netted to the wall.
"You. Alive... good. I get to participate in your trial," Jake spat, and walked away, looking for other survivors.
"Hey! Get me out of this!" Jake ignored him.
The Differential Elevator was a twisted mass of exposed metal parts; Jake instead climbed the pipe railing with difficulty to check each level. On the second deck he stumbled across Devlin and Cassie, unmoving in their chairs. He checked their vitals then, satisfied they were both still alive, forced open the nearby science bay and exposed a computer console. He pulled up the nanodoc subroutines and did a condition report; neither were the worse for wear, although a few hundred nanodocs had been dispatched through their bloodstreams to close off lacerations obtained during the mayhem.
Jake slapped Devlin's face, gently at first, then with increasing vigor. "Hey... hey... stop!" Devlin said, coming awake.
"You'll be happy to know you're not dead. Where's SNM?"
"Who? What? Cassie!" Devlin asked, still groggy.
"Cassie's fine. Sara, the Security Officer... where is she? I can't find her."
"Oh... umm, she left her seat to check on the prisoner when all hell broke loose... what happened?"
"The building blew, and it almost blew the plane up with it. Why were you here?" Jake unharnessed him and the unconscious Cassie and continued searching for Morar. "Come help me look."
"We found the evidence you needed to free Altibar... Oh! Poor Altibar," Devlin said, realizing the extent of the carnage visited upon them by the Professor, as he rose unsteadily from his chair.
"You're still healing. Keep looking on this level... I'll go upstairs." Grunting with effort, the older man climbed more pipe railing to the top level.
"Oh! Andy, too... and your man John Lane. I'm sorry, Jake. Sorry I didn't kill that insane devil on that raid when I had the chance."
"Don't blame yourself. This kind of thing is normal in the Outers. Do you know we haven't had a death in Aden for six months? And that one was because of old age..." Jake pulled a broken railing away from several doors leading to crew bunks. "SNM?" he called out to the doors.
"Nnnn! Mnunnm!" came from behind one.
"Hang on Sara!" Jake sprung into action, tugging vainly to release the lock from the now serpentine door. Abandoning that course of action, he instead retrieved a section of broken pipe railing and, inserting it between the door & frame, levered the tortured lock open. Inside was a room in disarray; clothing was everywhere, as were personal items and splayed notebooks; the bed was now diagonal between the narrow walls and wedged up against the rear bulkhead. And staring straight at Jake was Morar's pert and vulnerable rear end. He followed it to find the rest of her body, which was trapped in this twisted position under the lodged bedframe. With her face smushed against the bulkhead it was impossible for her to speak, and the whole look was so comical Jake couldn't hold back a little chortle as he pulled the bed free to release her.
"Don't laugh, Jake... that was the most scared I have ever been. I was sure the fat lady had sung for me." She righted herself and he brushed her off, straightened her hair and held her head in his hands.
"You'll never know how worried I was for all of you, Sara. I'm glad to see you're alright... well, except for this nasty bruise." Jake brushed a black and blue swelling on her forehead and she flinched. "Let's get a cold pack on that... if we can find a first aid kit in here. What a mess!"
The group assembled on the first deck and left the plane, rolling the Deputy prisoner through the escape hatch. He landed on the ground, bounced and began to roll downhill.
"Oh, no you don't," Jake quipped and reached out a hand to stop it, which he accomplished using a handful of the Deputy's hair.
"Ow... shit! That hurts!" he cried.
The hill was steep, and rocks waited at the bottom.
"Who killed Trudy Nash? Tell me now and I won't let you fall to your death. The Spooge won't protect you from this distance." The smile vanished from Jake's face and he lightened his grip on the hair. The ball began rolling again.
"No! Stop! Wait!" Panic rose in his voice. "I-it wasn't me! I was only supposed to kill Devlin... and make it look like an accident."
"You son of a bitch," Devlin seethed, limping up to join them.
"Then who, if not you?" Jake gave the ball a little kick towards the hill.
"Please! He has my family! He'll kill my parents and sister if I don't do what he says."
"Who?"
"The guy with the lab coat! And his creepy assistant... the one he calls Renfrew!"
"Thackery." Jake glared the name. "Where is he? Where can I find him?" Jake was yelling now, and clutching the man's head with his fists.
The Deputy sobbed, "I-- I don't know! I'd do anything to find them. I'm not a bad man! Please don't kill me!"
"How did the building blow? I blanketed the area with jamming signals, enough to stop any kind of transmission."
"He figured that might happen, and so the bomb was hardwired to a machine answering one of the land lines. You can't jam a signal running through wires. Anyone could have set the bomb off, had they called the right number and waited for the beep."
"Don't sound so smug... that bomb killed three good men."
Morar suddenly shouted, "Look!"
Everyone turned. Almost too small to be seen at the bottom of the hill were John Lane, Altibar Rennedon and Andrew Stait, climbing the hill to meet them! Jake's mouth dropped open and he ran down to join them, forgetting about the Deputy, who began rolling in earnest until Cassie stopped it, holding the ball so the Deputy faced the rocks below in a most terrifying way.
"D-don't let me g-go!" he screamed.
Jake ran down to meet them, hugging the two Adeners and shaking the Sheriff's hand. "How...?" he began.
"Your message came in time, that's how." Lane smiled at Jake. When I put two and two together, I realized that Sheriff Stait and I were in some of the same classes in Quantico, including the coded transmissions section."
Stait continued, "When I heard John's call for 'Provision Six', I knew we were all in trouble, so I took us to the bomb shelter, underground and away from the main building."
Altibar finished, "We were just getting the shelter door shut when we saw a huge black and orange fireball heading our way." He shuddered. "I think my eyebrows got a little singed."
"Sheriff," Morar said, "Somewhere in that mess of a plane is the evidence you need to clear Altibar."
"Mr Rennedon has already been cleared in my eyes," Stait replied. "I just recently found out that he's been responsible for saving my ass more times than I can count, as the intelligence guy for my team back at the FBI."
"Your team?" Devlin stepped out from behind the Spooge ball.
"Will? What the devlin are you doing here?" Stait joked, hugging his former team leader.
"Trying to fix your mess, Sheriff." He rolled the title over in his mouth. "Sheriff. Sheriff. Not too bad, Andy!" he grinned.
Stait smiled. "You know... 'it's better to be a big fish in a small pond'..."
"I get it." Devlin nodded.
Stait noticed the six foot ball of foam. "What's that?"
Cassie twisted it around, revealing the pale and frightened Deputy. "'That' is a complicated situation. What do you say we discuss it on the way to Aden?"
Lane added, "Along with how we plan on finding the Professor and releasing his prisoners?"
Jake included, "Exactly. But how are we getting there? I don't think this old gal's got much flight left in her..." His words dropped off as a shadow blocked the sun for all of them, and in the sky descended another Aden air vehicle, much larger than the first.
Jolie's voice was heard in each of their earwigs. "I called another craft out to pick us up... I hope you don't mind. Stand back everybody! I'm taking you all back to Aden... along with my poor fallen soldier." The breeze kicked up was impressive but Jolie lit a path of least turbulence in shining green arrows on the ground for them to follow. When they were all clear, including the big ball of Spooge, the enormous ship descended over the smaller damaged craft, hangar door open, and simply swallowed it whole.
"My.... GOD!" Devlin gasped. "It's a flying aircraft carrier!"
"Quite literally, Will," Jake roared above the wind. "Hop aboard. We can get you to Washington inside of an hour once you're in Aden. Have you ever seen the place? You might want to vacation there."
"Just a few aerial photographs... I'm sure it's way more impressive in person."
Cassie chimed in, "You bet it is! This big baby is going to land on the roof of one of our skyscrapers!"




Copyright 2010 Bruce Ian Friedman