Have we found out who wanted me dead? Do you have a lead on the conspirators?”
“Not yet, but how much longer can you stay in that place? I don’t know what to do. Everything looks normal. I would just confront the city council, hold them accountable for what happened to you.”
“And how do I do that? Do I go to them and tell them somebody wanted to kill me, so I staged my own death and a new me appeared out of thin air and took my place? Even if I manage to do that, somebody will have me killed later. Do you remember how it all began? I started to talk about the census. In fifty years we went from almost a million people to only a little over a hundred thousand. Maybe my math is a little rusty, but that’s a pretty terrible growth rate for such an advanced civilization.”
“ The council told you that maybe it’s nature’s way of downsizing the population to a sustainable level, considering the small size of our world.”
“ Then I asked why we have negative growth when some people have clones to help prolong their lives.”
“ Only a small number of the population uses clones, though, the Elites. The technology is very expensive, which is why the Professionals use mostly cloned genetic material.”
“ Right, that’s what they said too. I argued that maybe we should instead spend our credits on improving the lives of the Servers instead of spending so much on clones. That led me to the question of why there is an entire west wing of clones in the cloning facility for the leaders of our city. They’re totally separated from the rest, heavily secured and costing us a small fortune for the upkeep.”
“It ’s to ensure continuity of leadership and security in case of an uprising or a terrorist attack.”
“Are you kidding me? What uprising? What terrorist attack? Our people are so dulled by all the Digiscreen shows and the video games, they take no interest in anything else. As for the outside world, nothing’s happened in fifty years. Our security forces wouldn’t even know how to fight an uprising or an attack, in spite of their ongoing training. Nobody has any real battle experience. We don’t even need to fight the Scrappies, poor bunch of souls.”
“Which brings me back to the f act that for over three months you haven’t done anything to change your situation. And I don’t know how to help. So you tell me what our next move is.”
“I will , when I figure out what that is. Tell me, is my son all right?”
“He’s a happy go lucky type of fellow. Games and girls, those are his top priorities.”
“ Good to know. I miss him a lot. Keep an eye on him for me. I promise to do my best and come up with a decision soon. And, Serge, brother, thanks. I’ll send the messages via the usual channel. Stay alive!” Tom grabbed his backpack and took off.
9
Allan walked on the street leading to his house and passed a few joggers who acknowledged him with a short hand wave or a nod, all while keeping their eyes simultaneously on the street and the hyper-googles they were all wearing.
He arrived home without incident, but suddenly an odd feeling of insecurity enveloped him, as if his subconscious mind was sending him alarm messages. He decided not to go through the front entrance. Instead, he went through the back, circling around the great mansion he called home. On Saturdays and Sundays all the Servers had the day off and retired to their quarters nearby, once they ensured that food was cooked and ready to be warmed up and served.
The gardeners also kept a low profile. His father liked to enjoy some time on his own on the large lawn behind the house, where the tennis court and swimming pool were ready to be used.
Only the live-in maid was there, ready to do whatever was needed to keep her employers comfortable and well taken care of.
He approached the house from the back, walking stealthily and taking cover behind the trees and bushes that created archways above walkways covered
“Not yet, but how much longer can you stay in that place? I don’t know what to do. Everything looks normal. I would just confront the city council, hold them accountable for what happened to you.”
“And how do I do that? Do I go to them and tell them somebody wanted to kill me, so I staged my own death and a new me appeared out of thin air and took my place? Even if I manage to do that, somebody will have me killed later. Do you remember how it all began? I started to talk about the census. In fifty years we went from almost a million people to only a little over a hundred thousand. Maybe my math is a little rusty, but that’s a pretty terrible growth rate for such an advanced civilization.”
“ The council told you that maybe it’s nature’s way of downsizing the population to a sustainable level, considering the small size of our world.”
“ Then I asked why we have negative growth when some people have clones to help prolong their lives.”
“ Only a small number of the population uses clones, though, the Elites. The technology is very expensive, which is why the Professionals use mostly cloned genetic material.”
“ Right, that’s what they said too. I argued that maybe we should instead spend our credits on improving the lives of the Servers instead of spending so much on clones. That led me to the question of why there is an entire west wing of clones in the cloning facility for the leaders of our city. They’re totally separated from the rest, heavily secured and costing us a small fortune for the upkeep.”
“It ’s to ensure continuity of leadership and security in case of an uprising or a terrorist attack.”
“Are you kidding me? What uprising? What terrorist attack? Our people are so dulled by all the Digiscreen shows and the video games, they take no interest in anything else. As for the outside world, nothing’s happened in fifty years. Our security forces wouldn’t even know how to fight an uprising or an attack, in spite of their ongoing training. Nobody has any real battle experience. We don’t even need to fight the Scrappies, poor bunch of souls.”
“Which brings me back to the f act that for over three months you haven’t done anything to change your situation. And I don’t know how to help. So you tell me what our next move is.”
“I will , when I figure out what that is. Tell me, is my son all right?”
“He’s a happy go lucky type of fellow. Games and girls, those are his top priorities.”
“ Good to know. I miss him a lot. Keep an eye on him for me. I promise to do my best and come up with a decision soon. And, Serge, brother, thanks. I’ll send the messages via the usual channel. Stay alive!” Tom grabbed his backpack and took off.
9
Allan walked on the street leading to his house and passed a few joggers who acknowledged him with a short hand wave or a nod, all while keeping their eyes simultaneously on the street and the hyper-googles they were all wearing.
He arrived home without incident, but suddenly an odd feeling of insecurity enveloped him, as if his subconscious mind was sending him alarm messages. He decided not to go through the front entrance. Instead, he went through the back, circling around the great mansion he called home. On Saturdays and Sundays all the Servers had the day off and retired to their quarters nearby, once they ensured that food was cooked and ready to be warmed up and served.
The gardeners also kept a low profile. His father liked to enjoy some time on his own on the large lawn behind the house, where the tennis court and swimming pool were ready to be used.
Only the live-in maid was there, ready to do whatever was needed to keep her employers comfortable and well taken care of.
He approached the house from the back, walking stealthily and taking cover behind the trees and bushes that created archways above walkways covered
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