CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
The Media Republic
Sherwood descended the stairs and walked gingerly past the sentry, maintaining eye contact with it. Although he surmised it had been programmed specifically to keep Elliott out, he felt vulnerable as he passed within inches of it. He envisioned the sequence of integrated-circuit triggers as the spider achieved the optimal orientation, as it charged the plunger capacitor, as it commanded the needle to penetrate and the force-sensor feedback circuits stopped the penetration at the optimal depth, as the plunger injected the deadly load, and as the command for withdrawal brought the glistening needle back to storage. He feared its effectiveness with pride.
Sherwood joined Elliott on the bench, glancing back over his shoulder several times. They sat beside each other for some time in silence. Elliott leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands folded in front of him. Sherwood initially wanted to dispose of him like an annoying mosquito. But the fact that Elliott was sitting there beside him was an outstanding feat, for he knew of COPE’s plans to eliminate Elliott that morning. Elliott must have some exceptional qualities to be able to outwit such opponents as COPE would throw against him. Beneath his Don Quixote exterior there must beat the heart of a formidable adversary. He wondered just what kind of a man Elliott might be.
Sherwood performed the ritual of selecting the appropriate tobacco for this occasion, cleaning his pipe bowl to preserve the purity of the blend, and filling the bowl and tamping it with his pipe-cleaning tool. He sat back against the bench and drew lightly on the pipe to insure that it was prepared. Elliott remained motionless as Sherwood applied fire to the tobacco and began producing clouds of some aromatic smoke of great complexity. The slightest of breezes carried the dispersing clouds past Elliott.
“You are playing a foolish and dangerous game, Townsend. Burns says you are just a harmless old man. We have encountered cases like you before. We usually dispatch them much more efficiently. There is never any real threat, but COPE does not like loose ends. Not good business.” Settling back into a position of arrogant disdain, Sherwood continued, “Tell me, Townsend, what did you expect to gain with your incursion into politics?”
Elliott turned his head enough to look at Sherwood and to attract his attention. “What’s going to happen to Guinda now?”
The question startled Sherwood, causing him to divert his eyes from the clouds attempting to flee his presence. He looked at Elliott somewhat confused by this role reversal.
“What’s going to happen to Guinda now?” Elliott repeated.
“Well, G … ah, Burns has a great deal of potential, and we plan to use her assets in upcoming—”
“You mean her body,” Elliott interrupted now looking squarely at Sherwood, causing him to shift his eyes away nervously.
“Burns has many assets besides the obvious physical ones,” Sherwood continued.
“Name some others,” Elliott demanded, still looking directly at the nervous Sherwood and moving his face closer to him.
“Well … her … ah … hair is very … ah … beautiful and … she won some medals in the Olympics and—”
“In what event?”
“Well, let’s see, … it was tennis, that’s it, tennis.”
“Swimming, you cretin, it was swimming. She won the gold in the 100 meter freestyle and the silver in the 200 meter butterfly, and she anchored the team that took the gold in the 400 meter relay.” Elliott returned his gaze to the earth just beyond his folded hands. “How about her Master’s degree in political science? How about her enthusiasm and dedication to the Party? How about her intelligence? How about her aggressiveness at uncovering the truth?” Silence now filled all the voids among the clouds of smoke.
During Elliott’s short testimonial, Sherwood had risen to his feet and withdrawn a couple paces upwind. He tapped his pipe bowl sharply on a steel railing, disgorging the old ashes, still burning furiously, which had failed him. He fumbled in his pocket for a new pouch of tobacco.
With a new charge of tobacco, Sherwood walked back to the bench and stood with his shadow directly intersecting Elliott’s folded hands. “I am here to convince you that it is in your interest, Townsend, and in the interest of whatever romantic and pedantic ideals you harbor about some nonexistent America, to desist in this nonsensical game you are playing.”
“Why are you so interested in preserving my life?” Elliott asked, turning to face Sherwood.
“Do you know who Jean D’Alembert was?” Sherwood asked.
Elliott maintained a fixed stare on Sherwood.
“The great Dr. Townsend, having studied theoretical physics, of course knows the name. But do you understand the significance of D’Alembert’s Principle?”
“What are you getting at, Sherwood? D’Alembert’s Principle is at the very core of our concept of classical mechanics. Without it, we could not have developed the Hamiltonian model of the physics of particles.”
“Which links,” Sherwood gestured with his pipe, “the physics of the nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first centuries. The point, Dr. Townsend, is simply this. When pure science is pursued for the sake of the science, with no concern for what technology might ever derive from it, we never can know what incredible connections may be drawn from it in the future—until that future arrives.”
“What’s the point, Sherwood?”
“Neutrino Wave-Function Exchange may be such a principle.”
Elliott held his breath as Sherwood projected a gray cloud into the air above him. “You won a Nobel Prize for discovering the Higgs Particle, a rather plebeian, yet time-consuming, effort by your own admonition. But your theory of Neutrino Wave-Function Exchange has been generally ignored by a physics community largely focused on funding issues. Your principle is quite subtle but may hold the key to understanding whence ninety percent of the universe derives its origin. Neutrino exchange may thrust physics into the twenty-second century.”
“You think my life should be preserved because of some arcane principle I derived?”
“The Principle of Neutrino Wave-Function Exchange exists quite independent of your life, Dr. Townsend. Where you separated yourself from the slugs surrounding us was your vision, your conscious decision to forsake all to pursue your science.”
Elliott studied Sherwood’s shoes for a moment and then snapped to his eyes. “You know nothing about my vision or my conscious decisions.”
Sherwood stood up and withdrew a couple paces where he pondered a cat sleeping in the shade of the Pampas grass with several wrens astride bobbing fronds just overhead. Then he looked back at Elliott and finally studied the flowers, behind which he knew a set of perfectly aligned sensors monitored his every movement.
Standing over Elliott, he said, “Let us not become engulfed in bygone ghosts. We have some important business to attend to—business which may have a great impact on your future.
“I will give you a simple option, Townsend, a second chance from an organization not accustomed to giving second chances. Your meddling in the affairs of COPE has nearly cost your life. I advise you to quit while you can. You Don Quixotes all have one major flaw in common, maybe stemming from a mutation somewhere in a chromosome. The bottom line is that you all think that someone cares, that if you can alert the masses, something will change.
“No one cares, Townsend. No … one … cares. No one other than the few foolish remaining Minutemen. Burns was mostly right. You are a harmless old fool.”
Sherwood retook his position seated beside Elliott. “You probably think people cared in the last century and that you and your Minuteman brethren can turn the clock back. Let me tell you how people cared in your century.
“Do you know what it means when your liabilities exceed you assets, Townsend, and the only way you can live is by borrowing more and more money every day? That is called bankruptcy. Do you know that by 1970, your favorite government was hopelessly bankrupt? By the 90s, the Government h
ad created giveaway programs to pay out about forty trillion dollars that they knew would never exist. Do you know who cared? No one, Townsend. And do people care more today? You were a fool in the twentieth century. Imagine what a super fool you are in the twenty-first century.”
Elliott visualized Martha in the TV room with her friends. He saw bouncing nipples and peckers and game show contestants barking and smiling their way to Washington and millions of players at home cheering them on. He made no defense. “Get to the point. I don’t need a history lesson.”
“In 1935, the Social Security Act was passed by Congress. The politicians sold it to the masses in those depression days as a way to care for people who could not care for themselves. So you say your twentieth-century Congress cares after all? Take a look at Government revenues afterward. Your Government stole those ‘contributions’—nearly a trillion dollars by the end of the century. Social Security added over ten percent to Government revenue for a dozen years after it’s enactment. Any politician with a third grade education could have foreseen that. And you know they did.
“Whose problem did Social Security solve? Your caring Congress solved the only problem any politician ever has—revenue for his personal empire. From that empire comes votes, power, favors, status. The point is that no politician cares, or ever cared, or ever will care, about anything but where the dollars come from. The voters just want some strong, charismatic leader to whom they can transfer the burden of their conscience, which otherwise might nag them for not caring. And then Minuteman Townsend arrives to tell them that they should care about some ancient principles of freedom. You are the fool, Townsend, and those people at home, cheering for the candidates, real or otherwise, are the living reality.
“Your obtuse concept of freedom nearly caused the total collapse of the Government. We were dangerously close to a revolution because the Government could no longer borrow to pay its bills, and millions of people depended on that for their daily survival.
“Then some resourceful businesses teamed up with big labor and formed a coalition with a major TV network, and some Hollywood syndicates that put up unbeatable candidates with unbeatable campaigns. They called themselves The CBS Republicans.
“Of course, the campaigns were all the same lies that the masses had come to accept, but now the politicians started making some changes. Since we owned the politicians, they worked for us; and we started making some progress toward fiscal reforms. Then another network coalition, that called itself The NBC Democratic Party, started doing the same thing.
“After a few elections, Washington began to be occupied by the stars of the infotainment industry. Under their tutelage, the fiscal situation slowly turned around, and most people benefited. The Supreme Court supported this benign revolution with decisions that were no more unconstitutional than those of the previous century.
“The game shows were a stroke of genius. All that hype and nonsense is exactly what the voters wanted to further isolate them from the real business of government while giving them the sense that they were participants in the great American tradition of democracy.”
Elliott appeared to be displaced in time and space as he sat stoically with the words of the oracle tearing at his soul. He began to mumble audibly, “They all know deep down that it’s bullshit.”
Sherwood continued, “A media republic has risen from the ashes of the popular republic. And it works. But nothing lasts forever, right, Townsend? Ultimately, power will corrupt the leadership of the media republic just as it corrupted the masses who could not handle the power they possessed in the popular republic. But the masses are still gorging themselves on their newfound freedom from choice.
“Only one thing is certain. Whatever form our Government takes today or took in the past, it is intrinsically what the masses want. Our Government mirrors the will of the electorate. Government can have no deficiencies because it is the id of the masses. Their complaining and hand-wringing is all part of their mantra, their badge of participation.”
Sherwood rose, puffing heavily on his pipe. The bowl nearly glowed in response. A smile came over his face as he cherished the experience. “I believe this pipe will be just fine. It needed to be burned in, to excise that which was inadequate, to temper its fiber, to transfigure its soul.” He held the pipe up and examined it briefly. Then he turned his attention back to Elliott.
“There is one additional thing to bear in mind, Townsend.” Sherwood paused, during which the cloud of smoke cleared between them. “COPE has more spiders than you have lives.” With this, he blew a great cloud of smoke to envelope Elliott once more.
Elliott sat motionless, searching the ground beneath him for some form of truth to repudiate what was crushing his senses, but no truth rescued him. As another plume of smoke enveloped him, he fantasized that it was some poison gas that would make everything so simple. He embraced it and drew it into his lungs, awaiting relief. No, it was just smoke.
Sherwood interrupted the séance. “I suggest you go home, Townsend, and throw away any copies of the files you stole and go back to thinking about physics. It will be much more rewarding and will keep you out of trouble. That is my best offer, and a generous one.”
“This is all just an espionage game to you, isn’t it?” Elliott stood up, one leg nearly collapsing in complaint. “You’re just moving pawns and rooks around as you sit in your twenty-first century castle surrounded by your eight-legged centurions. But there’s more than just pride at stake here. There’s a whole way of life changing. And the people don’t even know about the fraud you petty monarchs are imposing on them. But you must be plenty scared of anarchists like me based on all the attention I’ve gotten in the last few days. You must realize there are thousands or millions of people out there just waiting for a wakeup call, and all it takes is one trouble maker with real ammunition to set things going against you and your phony candidates and your robot assassins. You are outside the law, not me. And you’re terrified that the free media will latch onto this Nobel-Prize-winning scientist with proof of a government conspiracy against the Constitution.”
“That is very exciting oratory, Townsend. But what about your lover? What do you suppose will happen to her career in the Party when they discover she is the one who hacked her way into the COPE files for your so-called proof?”
“She’ll have an even more exciting career in the revolution. She has talent you autocrats would never appreciate anyway.”
“Indeed. What clever rhetoric. And what is the probability of such a revolution even being recognized, much less successful? Apply your mathematical skills to that question.”
“There are some things that just have to be,” Elliott said. “I’ve come a long way in the last few days, and I have a clearer vision of where I have to go now than I’ve ever had before.”
“How do you think the COPE computer will feel about your revolution?”
Elliott searched Sherwood’s eyes looking for some clue to tell him how to respond, but the search was in vain.
“Come, come, Townsend. Surely the beautiful Dr. Alvarez shared some COPE family secrets with you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Let me put it very simply. At this time, the computer knows nothing about Dr. Alvarez’s role in Jenner’s plot. But that is a variable. You see, I have developed a very special relationship with this infamous computer. Jenner was stupid—and has died for that sin. But maybe the computer would be more lenient with Dr. Alvarez.”
Elliott squinted at his adversary. Sherwood fondled the bowl of his pipe as it drooped from his lips.
“Maybe you can learn from Jenner’s errors,” Sherwood said to his pipe, “for your daughter’s sake. You probably did not even know about Jenner’s demise. It pays to keep well informed.”
Sherwood didn’t see Elliott’s hand rising toward him. It grabbed his arm below the shoulder, surprising Sherw
ood so much that a glowing ember jumped from his pipe onto his pants. “If anything ever happens to Susie, then you’re next. And all your spiders and your cleverness and all that bullshit smoke won’t keep me from you.”
Sherwood recovered quickly and matched Elliott’s glare with a grin. “You know, Townsend, such a threat from anyone else would be just idle chatter. But I am forced to take you seriously. Some day we must discuss how you defeated two of COPE’s finest assassins. You are quite exceptional as both an intellectual and a military strategist. I would anticipate the challenge of an engagement between us.”
Sherwood’s face turned instantaneously serious as he wrenched Elliott’s hand away. “And you are wrong, Townsend. This is not a game to me. This is real. This is why I was born.” Then a grin began to return. “But I respect you, even admire you. That is the reason for my forbearance. Let me explain something so you can fully appreciate the value of the option I am offering you.
“Knowledge and knowing what to do with it are the most important factors in winning. I know about Jenner and Alvarez and the Asp and the computer and Jenner’s plot. Getting that data was as simple as lighting my pipe.” With that, he snapped open a gold lighter and snapped it closed in front of his smirking lips. “With that data, plus a little creative blackmail, I have extracted certain privileges from the Asp regarding access to special assistants. All other Field Liaison Officers are merely conduits between the district and COPE. Only I maintain my own enforcement staff. Of course, COPE also maintains its own independent enforcers. It sometimes is quite interesting how we keep tabs on each other. Those two spiders who attacked you today were COPE, although even I cannot tell which are which just by looking at them. The one that you nearly stumbled over behind us is not one of mine either. I am not sure what its mission is.
“As for the computer, I have made my piece with it. Of course, I had to get its attention first. Installing the Stone-Age switch did that quite effectively. That is the device that isolates the computer from the network managers so it cannot retrieve its spare parts as they come rolling in from all corners of the globe. It is completely outside the domain of the computer, and I alone control it. And it is not the crude affair that Jenner designed. She just never had a flair for hardware. All I need to do is activate the switch and inject the virus, a sequence I have automated in case something unpleasant should happen to me.
“I am not so foolish, though, to think that I am immune to the malice of that computer. I am sure it immediately began its own self-defense program. Since I do not thoroughly understand its capabilities, I cannot predict how long it will take to nullify my offense. It could be two years—or two hours. But however that hand is played, I also am a moving target. And my knowledge of spiders exceeds even the computer’s knowledge of spiders. I believe I have the edge.”
Elliott’s legs were becoming more stable now as he rose above Sherwood. “So, it’s the King Sherwood move. You control the computer, the computer controls COPE, and COPE controls America.”
“You do me an injustice, Townsend. I have no desire to be king, although the computer may feel differently about that.”
“How can you stand by and let COPE, or a computer, take over the leadership of America?”
“Have you noticed who has had the reins for almost three hundred years? And you can still ask that question? The reign of slugs is over. At least now there will be some rational explanation for why things happen. It will be a better time just as the last few years have been better than your century. You are witnessing true evolution. This is precisely what Darwin had in mind.
“Think about my generous offer, Townsend.”
Sherwood turned toward Guinda’s deck. There was no sign of her, and the doors were closed. The spider remained standing benignly near her front porch. As Sherwood moved, it seemed asleep. Its vitality had appeared to fade as it gave the impression of being dormant during the Sherwood monologue. But such inattention was merely an artifact of the human observer since this machine continued to maintain complete attention while updating its running analysis of the entire environment within the fields of its many sensors. It made no movement and gave no hint of the vast data it processed, but it was always on duty. It never became comfortable, tired, or bored. It logically conserved energy until it needed to move, but it was always ready to act in an instant.
Sherwood took several steps toward Guinda’s front door, leaving Elliott alone on the bench. Sherwood stopped at the sight of the spider standing motionless. He relit his pipe, puffed a couple of clouds of authority toward the spider, and resumed his stride confidently toward the door. This took him within a few feet of the spider as he walked toward the steps. He maintained his air of confidence as he passed it, glancing frequently out of the corners of his eyes. As he passed the spider, its sensors followed his movements, analyzed his trajectory, and processed gigabytes of data, all without the slightest hint of activity. But Sherwood knew it was busy; he knew the algorithms it called upon to analyze every step he took; he visualized the data streams, the logic states, the network activity. He reached the door, pulled it open, entered, and shut and locked it behind him. The spider suddenly came to life without any warning. It moved its left front leg first as it walked toward the front porch.