ReEarth

By Adam Howell

Nothing on the Rhealian network is private. A few reckless comments online can do a great deal of damage to a person's reputation. When Detective Joseph Pimm is placed in charge of a murder investigation, where the chief suspect is an Earth women, uncovering the truth risks putting him out of step with Rhealian society.

Born on an isolated planet, the people of Rhea have a tough life. Heavy gravity and humid conditions cause many to question humanity's place on that world. The people glorify and vilify aspects of Earth culture, as they compete for their own vision of Rhea’s future.

Pimm’s investigation takes him through a world he’s known his whole life, and in doing so, faces familiar social pressures, obstructing him from uncovering the true corruption beneath the surface.

Pimm has to decide for himself, not only where he stands politically, but how far he’s prepared to go.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adam Howell
• Release date: Feb 21, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301601257

Adam Howell

Currently broke and living in a dustbin. Please stop depositing your rubbish in my living room. This bin operates under a finders keepers policy, and the following items will not be returned: Unshredded bank statements, your favourite hat (which your partner hated), and the growing collection of old socks (delivered by your washing machine every Tuesday). I do not, however, have any need for body parts and would be thankful if you removed the remains of Mrs Simmons and disposed of her elsewhere. Furthermore, I find your frequent use of expletives, whilst attempting to carry me and my home to the side of the road every week, highly offensive. I do not weigh a ton, and, due in part to your less than desirable cooking, I have lost a number of pounds since moving here. I am not running a charity and my tolerance of your anti-social behaviour has limits. I am, however, willing to make an effort. Should you give me £1 for a cup of tea, I will, for the sake of community cohesion, endeavour to overlook your less than neighbourly behaviour. Yours faithfully Adam Howell

Book preview

ReEarth

By Adam Howell

Copyright 2012 by Adam Howell

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the following. My sister Laura Howell and my parents Marie and Bernard Howell for their invaluable help and support. A big thanks to Simon Holmes and thanks to Stephen Whittaker. Thank you to everyone who responded so well and gave so much encouragement.

Chapter 1

Rhea has short days of only twenty Rhealian hours. People had adjusted to this over the generations, but Pimm felt that, for him, the hours of this particular day had been wasted – spent slouched within the beige interior of a transport.

Cetus Park was the largest of the cities. A mass of mismatched buildings accumulated over the centuries. The police headquarters, like most of the city's official buildings, was constructed from the remnants of old biodomes built centuries ago. They stood as reminders of the vast terraforming programme which once reshaped the planet. Like most official buildings it was far too big for its purpose. It still smelled of plant life, or was that furniture polish?

Hefty timber walls partitioned the spacious rainbow lit interior, forming vast empty rooms and corridors. The walls reached only a fraction of the way to the translucent white, honeycombed outer shell, but they still stood tall and imposing.

Greetings, chirped a wiry young officer. A moment earlier he'd been quietly issuing verbal commands to a maintenance robot.

Detective Pimm.

Yes? said Pimm, pushing himself up with his walking stick and meeting the stranger with a blank stare.

In an instant, the ID of Officer Dug Walker, ID: l865g53, flagged up in his mind. His head flooded with data, feeds of messages, posts and logs posted throughout the day. A deluge of text for his pre-set search algorithms to filter and organise into a form Pimm considered optimal.

Instructions to doors, lifts and transports, all posted by Walker during the day, were laid over a map. Each message was tagged with time and location, all accurate to the metre and the second.

Rhea was unique amongst worlds in that it adopted a fairly public and transparent system for communicating over the net, nothing you post, message, or do over the Rhealian network was private. I don't just mean that the government could snoop. No, that would be sinister.

Upon reaching the age of eighteen a person would gain full net access, and with that they could access and view any post, message, or log, created by any adult over the net. There were exceptions, such as police case files and health reports. But other than that, only face to face verbal communication could be considered truly confidential.

Pimm's mind, quite naturally and without provocation, built a map of Walker's activities over the last few hours. His messages consisted of some casual chats with colleagues, a sympathetic message from his mother and – Pimm scanned back to late last night – Walker had engaged in a conversation in which he made a few clumsy advances to a lady who clearly had little interest in him.

The last message Walker received was from the Commissioner. He instructed Walker to send Detective Joseph Pimm, ID: g765h23, straight through to his office.

Pimm stared, as if into emptiness, a special place of silence, located somewhere just beyond Walker's face. This was a clear sign he was paying plenty of attention to Officer Walker. Walker reciprocated, making no attempt to hide his own blank gaze. The usual response. The blank stare of someone flicking through someone else's history until they dig up that personal titbit with which to put their own ego at ease.

Your personal online record is your public face on Rhea and the decline of verbal communication was a sign of how comfortable people had become with this public display of their lives. Walker gave a little smile, clearly he found what he was looking for. Balance had been restored and both parties were exposed as flawed human beings.

This behaviour long ceased being something to take offence at. Such information is available for all to see, and trying to conceal your snooping risks coming across as far more ill-mannered.

Walker's next message was sent straight to Pimm, 'The Commissioner is waiting for you,' he included a map of the building. It was just the generic government map; however, he'd highlighted the Commissioner’s office with a line of flashing red ampersands. An ugly abuse of ASCII which Pimm felt compelled to replace with a short hashtag.

Turning towards two robots which stood guard by a corridor, Officer Walker messaged, 'Clear a path for Pimm.' They raised their heads in acknowledgement and stepped smoothly to the side.

These were the standard police models: grey featureless figures often used to grab criminals by the wrist to lead them to the station, as though they were dragging a naughty child.

Officer Walker gestured towards the corridor and turned back to the maintenance robot, mumbling some inaudible commands; now a little more self-consciously than before.

Pimm pondered over this as he headed down the corridor. Issuing verbal commands was rare. Perhaps Walker was attempting to avoid leaving a record, while ordering the clean up of some kind of mess or accident. Most robots log their activities internally and as long as instructions are given verbally it's quite straightforward to delete the logs afterwards. This was assuming you had sufficient access rights and if nobody planned on looking too hard.

Pimm's mind started to wander. He began to consider all kinds of elaborate items and furnishings a clumsy Officer Walker might have inadvertently bumbled into. A picture was forming of a hopeless clown, leaving a trail of spilt coffee and knocked over hat stands in his wake. An image Pimm quite enjoyed as he navigated a maze of identical wooden corridors and cut through vacant rooms.

Crimes weren't difficult to solve on Rhea. Pimm had read many old Earth detective novels, with their cat and mouse games and trail of clues. There may have been some elements of this during his early days on the force, thirteen years ago, but that all seemed quite alien to modern detective work.

Filtering through a lifetime of posts and messages, mapping out people's lives; this was the job of a detective on Rhea and everybody on Rhea fancied themselves as a detective. Many crime junkies would know the likely culprit before he'd even arrive at the scene. Once found, the suspect need only be exposed to a quick mind-scan to ascertain guilt.

Almost forty percent of all police were detectives and most of the rest were officers. Officers’ roles ranged from mundane tasks such as guarding and tidying up crime scenes to ordering robots to apprehend criminals and maintain public order. Detectives had to decide whether a crime had taken place and who should be mind-scanned for evidence. This was a responsible job, mind-scans are considered intrusive and it's best to only scan the guilty party or at least the minimum number of people until you can identify the culprit.

A mind-scan can reveal more about a person than they dared know themselves. People are bad at self-analysis – it's a flawed approach – clouded and stuck in self referencing loops. People are swamped with conflicting signals from an out-of-control ego – out to shape its own account of reality. Mind-scans, by contrast, cut straight to the truth.

It occurred to him, as he bounced his walking stick off the thick mustard yellow carpet, that despite all his years sending people to the mind-scanner, nobody ever had cause to mind-scan him.

Walking sticks were quite fashionable on Rhea. With the high gravity they leant valuable support. Pimm carried a lightweight model; ergonomically sculpted from dark grey resin. It balanced a touch too low for his taste. Boring, but paired with an old shirt and reinforced derby, he felt it ideal for the unobtrusive decorum of official business. Pimm, like many Rhealians, had developed a range of swings and poses to help define the prop as an aspect of his character. On busy streets he'd join the wave of flailing needles – a decorative adjunct to his slow plodding gait.

'Warmer,' came a message from the Commissioner. Pimm had met Commissioner Manning on numerous occasions, before his impressive rise through the ranks. He began as Chief Detective in Hillfield, a town not far from Tambakan. Pimm always found him to be warm and full of energy. The kind of person Pimm imagined might actually deserve such a high status position.

He turned and passed empty offices being diligently, and probably incessantly, cleaned and polished by maintenance robots.

'There! That's my office. To your right,' came a message from Commissioner Manning.

Pimm saw a wooden door with no name tag or robot guard to indicate status.

'Let yourself in :-)'

The door swung inwards into a large office. Commissioner Manning was sat behind his desk smiling an uneasy smile; he had things on his mind. It occurred to Pimm that Manning was only the fourth human being he had seen since entering the building. He'd heard a small amount of activity, but the building seemed largely deserted.

Manning gestured his palm towards a seat. Thirty seven, there were thirty seven people in this building including himself; at least judging from recent local transmissions, thought Pimm as he sat down.

Commissioner Manning, ID: f754jn3, had been visiting various official government buildings all day. This made sense as he was in charge of policing for almost a third of the planet and regularly liaised with politicians and other high status government officials. He'd traded a few friendly messages with his granddaughter during lunch who, although chipped when very young, only recently reached the age of full net access. Yesterday he'd expressed an unwise opinion over the net.

He posted a message stating that, 'The people of Ruk brought it on themselves.' A number of people politely pointed out it could have happened anywhere and took issue over the tone of his message. This was enough. He wasn't reckless in his comments, there's a general detachment to events on other colonies, but he was arrogant and ill-informed. The last word on the matter was him apologising for not reading up on the subject. Quite embarrassing.

Greetings, Joseph, called the Commissioner spreading his arms apart in a welcoming gesture. He remembered Pimm from years back and felt comfortable using his first name. From the little direct contact Pimm had with Manning, he liked him as a boss. He'd always had an enthusiasm that made him seem youthful for his years, but now he looked weary and overworked.

Greetings, Sir, Pimm formally replied.

How was the journey here? Manning asked, staring through Pimm as though searching for the answer.

Not too bad. A bit long.

Things we have to do for duty, eh. I see you spent the time constructively.

Pimm had done a few things to pass the time on the way here – none of which he had considered remotely constructive.

Sir? he questioned.

You wrote about your cat's diet and all the methods of persuasion you used to get her to eat. Eat the dreaded diet cat food. It’s all helpful stuff, helps build our collective knowledge.

It seemed so trivial, but this, Pimm had noticed, wasn't a unique attitude on Rhea. Finding value in trivial details of shared information was something he struggled to understand. Perhaps it was an attempt to be polite and show interest in people's net use. After all, with everyone’s net use on show it made some sense to exploit that knowledge for small talk. Sometimes Pimm just wished people got to the point.

So, Joseph, any idea why we sent for you? enquired Manning.

I assumed it might have something to do with the Earthling incident,

The planet had been buzzing with the recent arrival of a lone Earthling who braved the twenty-three years in stasis to get to Rhea. A noted bioengineer in the field of terraforming who now wanted to live the reality she'd studied. She had stayed in Pimm's town of Tambakan and it seemed reasonable to assume, with a murder taking place in her new home, that it’s the only high-profile case that could have got him called all the way out to Cetus Park.

Tell me what you know about the case? Manning asked, as he leant forwards, fingers interlocked.

Pimm took a breath, Only what everyone else knows, Sir. He hadn't been assigned the case and wondered now, if it would have been wise to have perused the reports.

The case is being handled by Detective Longmore, he was the first detective to the scene. Dr Emma Welby, who had let the Earthling stop in her house, was found with fatal head injuries. This took place a couple of days ago around noon. Initial searches found no likely suspects. Are you handing the case over to me?

Manning ignored Pimm's question, It was a terrible crime. I was in Tambakan myself at the time and saw the scene first hand. I felt quite unsettled by the waste of life. There is one suspect.

Manning placed the palms of his hands gently upon the side of the desk as though offering support to his body.

The Earthling had the opportunity, but we couldn't locate the murder weapon. You're probably aware that we aren't able to mind-scan her for confirmation. We're going back to the old methods for this one.

Pimm had heard some gossip but felt it wise to ask, Why can't you mind-scan her?

Her implants are far too outdated for that, at least for any reliable result. It would take at least a year for her brain to adapt to a new implant. That's assuming she'd consent to one.

Pimm understood this. Her implants would be twenty-three years old; that's twenty-three Earth years. Earth years are still the norm on Rhea, unlike the other colonies. A Rhealian year is only mentioned in relation to mild seasonal changes which go largely unnoticed. A mind implant from Earth twenty-three years ago would be on a par with something Rhea had eleven years ago. The distance between Earth and Rhea was vast and communication slow. Technology and media were frequently shared, but it took Rhea almost eleven-point-eight years to receive an Earth based transmission. Such exchanges were sent through good will, as meaningful trade was infeasible.

Manning continued, Her Earth chip also lacked compatibility with the Rhealian network. We have only a little in the way of logs or information to track her activity. Apparently she'd been going around asking people to open doors and call transports for her.

Direct mind implants are installed when young. It would be considered a breach of the child's rights to deny such a fundamental piece of technology.

What makes her a suspect? asked Pimm.

Well, she had the opportunity and the only other person in the building, Dr Isakov, consented to a mind-scan and was cleared.

He sat back and studied Pimm.

I think we can hand the case over to you, he said, pondering aloud, You have the experience preparing a case for court without mind-scanned evidence.

Pimm nodded in agreement, though he wondered to what extent those old trivial cases counted as experience.

It’s for you to determine, of course. If you discover a native Rhealian's responsible it will certainly be easier to prove, not to mention save us the headache of deciding what to do with the Earthling.

Surely prison?

She's only been on this planet for ten days. She can hardly be classed as a true Rhealian. There are people who'd like to see her sent straight back to Earth. Perhaps they'd assume she'd face some kind of sentence back there. I don't know.

Do we have any kind of agreement with Earth in that respect?

No. Meaningful negotiations are impossible due to distance and, of course, nobody has returned to Earth in a long time. There is a very old treaty that exists. We might be able to use it if we choose to view this as a diplomatic issue.

Colonisation went out of fashion on Earth countless decades ago and they now have little to do with the colonies. They see the colonising of distant planets as a futile exercise in shipping away large quantities of their best and the brightest, at huge cost, never to be seen again. They're still maintaining the old project to terraform Mars, of course.

Here are the case files.

Manning granted Pimm access to the classified police case files.

Should she be found guilty, considering there's a certain lack of confidence in the old policing methods, a full confession would be ideal.

I'll get on it.

Excellent, Manning said, pushing himself up from his chair with his walking stick. Pimm took this as a sign that the meeting was over and lurched out of the chair. Manning came around from his desk to see Pimm out of his office.

I'll likely be back in Tambakan myself in a day or so. You'll be able to fill me in on your progress.

Yes, Sir, I'll see you then, Pimm replied, turning to leave the office. He didn't like the sound of that at all. The politicians Manning reported to, would probably want to keep a close eye on this one.

Chapter 2

On exiting the office. Pimm messaged a transport. By the time he'd walked through the empty corridors, passed the robot guards and rows of empty waiting room seats, it sat waiting by the curb, outside.

Dusk had fallen. This came as a surprise to Pimm as the luminosity of the biodome's interior had seamlessly countered the dimming of