c. 2024 Rod Ice
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(8-24)
Arbiter Goland Pick stood before a shiny, keyless display panel at Toqua Platte, in the western district known as Calimex. He had a narrow, tattooed strip of ink on his bare skull that denoted being a member of an upper caste. Something carried by few in their coastal region. Yet the significance was more technical than an indication of rank or status. It denoted his skill as an engineer, something that was greatly valued in the postwar era. Thinkers like himself had helped to resurrect their civilization after the perilous calamity of contending with unrest in Middle America. He was valued and respected. Looked upon with a sort of religious significance.
Though in this new age, survivors of the Great Uprising had little time for worshipping deities.
Ambition had propelled the isolated society to attempt revisiting a lunar base once established at Mare Frigoris, on the familiar satellite’s near side. A Venmax probe was sent to investigate conditions at Alpha-One, an installation that was abandoned when recruits were called home to aid in quelling forces of resistance that were loyal to the MAGA Defense. Yet when this small craft stealthily snooped above the atmospheric perimeter of their world, it detected something amiss in what had been the State of Ohio. The clear signature of a Cloitanium C-drive registered on its instruments.
This unexplained anomaly made the arbiter clutch at his belly, and curse with disbelief.
“What in the name of Neil deGrasse Tyson is that?”
An aide who was busy processing data from the craft, looked up from his own console. He appeared to be very young, no more than a teenage prospect brought from one of their university campuses along the Pacific Ocean. Yet his comprehension of this oddity spoke much about the experience he carried.
“Mr. Pick, I analyzed the stream from our probe for errors, just in case. The signature is genuine. Would you like to divert our mission to investigate? The Moon won’t be going anywhere...”
His superior technician laughed softly.
“Thank you, Gene. Let’s stay on course. I need to map the region where Alpha-One is located, and have that information ready for a meeting of the provincial governors, next week. They’ve got an appetite to reopen the base if possible. It’s as much a of a vanity project as anything else. You know, a way to inspire our citizens. I don’t care about such nonsense. But the benefit in terms of stargazing would be enormous. There is no interference from weather or clouds on the Moon. I like the idea of having it in our array of options for research.”
Eugene Pataki nodded while fiddling with his virtual controls. He had the slender profile of a plucked chicken. With a pale complexion to match.
“Very good, Mr. Pick. But what about the C-drive echo? Will you inform our benefactors at the university?”
The arbiter coughed into his fist.
“NO! SAY NOTHING ABOUT THAT! IT’LL ONLY GET THEM RILED UP AND ANXIOUS! IT’S HARD ENOUGH TO EXPLAIN OUR WORK WHEN THEY ARE IN A SANE STATE OF MIND! STORIES ABOUT SOME MYSTERIOUS PHENOMENON WOULD TURN THEM CRAZY! LIKE COCKROACHES SCATTERING FROM THE LIGHT!”
Again, his youthful aide nodded obediently.
“The intensity is minimal, sir. At that level of propulsion, whatever is generating such a signature would have to be diminutive in size, with a short range. Like a wave-hopper, or a limited transport. Perhaps it’s a search party from the eastern district of Atlantia? We haven’t made contact with them in 20 or 30 years...”
Goland Pick chortled derisively.
“ATLANTIA? PLEASE, YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME HURL! THOSE MOUNTAIN DWELLERS ARE TOTALLY BACKWARD. THEY’VE TAKEN TO BURNING FOSSIL FUELS AGAIN, AND CUTTING DOWN TREES FOR SHELTER. THEY EVEN INGEST ANIMAL MEATS! I THANK THE STARS THAT WE’VE MANAGED TO AVOID THAT SORT OF CIVILIZATIONAL DECLINE!”
Gene slapped himself on the cheek, in a mock episode of punishment.
“Sorry, Mr. Pick! I’m sorry, so sorry!”
The arbiter smiled at this self-effacing gesture.
“I pity them, in truth. They’ve cut a swath out of the rubble, from old Maine along the coast, to the edge of New Jersey and Delaware. Those areas weren’t so drastically affected by battles with the rebel militias. Didn’t you learn about all of that in grade school?”
His subordinate technician shrugged and flushed red with embarrassment.
“Of course, sir. But all of that was so long ago, and so far away. How do we know what really happened? How do we know what they are doing on the other side of this continent?”
Arbiter Pick cringed at the sound of this bold rhetoric. It made him fear that their conversation might be monitored through listening sensors in the ceiling and walls.
“ENOUGH! DON’T TALK LIKE THAT, YOU’LL LAND US BOTH IN A CONFINEMENT CELL! OUR SANCTIONED VIEW MAKES US STRONG AS A PEOPLE, DON’T QUESTION IT! WE ARE FORTUNATE TO WORK HERE, AT THE PLATTE CENTER! WOULD YOU RATHER BE DIGGING DITCHES ALONG THE PCH COASTAL ROUTE? HARD LABOR SHORTENS LIVES AND BREAKS BACKS! NOT TO MENTION BREAKING YOUR SPIRIT!”
Eugene crouched low in his seat, as if being surveilled by an invisible lens.
“Sorry sir, I’m sorry! I’ll watch my tongue in the future. You are right to give me correction. But I still have to ask about the C-drive echo. Won’t they find that in our reports? Can’t they access the signal on their own?”
Goland Pick brought his palm down hard, on the control panel. It made a sharp popping noise, of flesh on plastic.
“I’ve deleted the encounter. Let’s consider it a malfunction. You know, static in the interplanetary link! Things like that happen all the time! It’s a function of working with leftover junk from the fallen California Republic...”
His aide frowned and chewed on a stylus.
“Isn’t that treason against the provincial governors, sir? Think about what would happen if anyone discovered your actions. The response could be very harsh.”
His supervisor lost control. He began to flail his arms and spit saliva, wildly.
“ENOUGH! ENOUGH! ENOUGH! QUIT STIRRING THE POT, GENE! YOU’LL HAVE DENIABILITY IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, IT’S ALL ON MY SHOULDERS! IS THAT GOOD ENOUGH? I’LL TAKE THE HEAT! NOW GET BACK TO WORK AND GUIDE THAT VENMAX PROBE TO ALPHA-ONE!”
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