Sol Invictus: Spqr—Senatus Populusque Solarus

By Eric K. Gale

Only a long-dead and quarantined orb of darkness remains where the once-miraculous sapphire called Earth orbited its home star, Sol. All the sovereign nations perished alongside Terra, as interplanetary megaCorporations wrested control of the solar system, reducing their employees to serfdom and slavery. The auspicious commoners serve one of the 512 Solaran megaCorporations, while the remainder becomes rejectamenta on the auction block. The corporatocracy now strictly enforces a revived caste system, and individual freedoms no longer exist. The privilege of liberty lost its placeeven its meaningin the thousands of Extraterran colonies, from Mercurius to the Kuiper Belt. The University, once hailed as the savior of humanity and civilization, now viciously controls the Solaran populace at the behest of the avaricious megaCorporations. Manipulation via selective proscription, torture, and imprisonment never fail to effect the desired result. To this end, the University utilizes the cunning and deadly triOperativ assassins of SpecSci. Uriens, one of these agents skilled in the tradecraft of database hacking, interrogation, and assassination, has lost the zealotry instilled in him since the impressionable age of eight orbits. Now driven by infinite remorse and sorrow, Uriens will make the only decision possible other than deathto find a new path. He will enter into an epic quest spanning Sol entire in attempts to rescue the ethos of humanity, return freedom to the solar system, and restore his own battered mind, body, and soul. Will Uriens and his cohort succeed in their perilous ordeals, or will they merely worsen humanitys plight, as well as their own? Eric respectfully requests that you support manned space flight, the NASA budget, and the funding of private and corporate spacing start-ups with your vote. If we had stayed the course after Apollo 11instead of throwing good money after bad in unnecessary warsthese United States would already have nuclear fusion power, hotels in orbit, bases on the moon, mines on asteroids, and colonies on Marsalong with a much greener planet. The country that dominates space will holds the keys to the future and the guaranteed survival of our species.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781504909648

Eric K. Gale

Born and raised in the shadow of Hill Air Force Base—currently the largest fighter base in the USA—Eric developed a fascination with the military, aircraft, and space by 7 years old. Before graduation, he mapped out his future and joined the United States Air Force immediately after turning 17 years old. He proudly served as a Professional Aviator in the Air Force as a member of a small and highly classified Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance career for 22 years. Exceptionally qualified to predict the future of information gathering, the planning of combat operations, and future conflicts like those in which his unit participated, he liaised, and often worked under the Army, Navy, Marine Corps, JSOC, NRO, NSA-CSS, DIA, FBI, DEA, OSD, and other random-acronym agencies of the United States. While flying covertly he served in dozens of countries. His experience culminated in an assignment to the Pentagon, as a Deputy Intelligence Manager. There he learned much regarding national interests, policies, and strategies. He can say no more.

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2017 Eric K. Gale. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,

or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/05/2017

ISBN: 978-1-5049-0963-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-0964-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017911324

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Contents

ACT I

Data Point 01 The End of Reality

Data Point 02 The Exodus

DATA Point 03 The Reformation

Data Point 04 The Corporate Structure

Data Point 05 The Pharos

Data Point 06 Solaran Travel & Time Keeping

ACT II

Data Point 07 Energy from fusion

Data Point 08 The founding of the Lunar University–{Perezhitok}

DATA POINT 09 Extraterran University Health Directorate Quarantined Earth

ACT III

DATA POINT 10 Jovian confederated republic defense fleet readiness level

DATA POINT 11 The Seven Cartels & the Jovian Confederated republic Engagement

DATA POINT 12 After Action Report on Jovian invasion of mars

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B orn and raised in Utah, in the Shadow of Hill Air Force Base, Eric developed an early fascination with aircraft, the military, and space travel. By the time he graduated high school, he had already mapped out his future, and joined the United States Air Force–just days after turning 17 years old. He served as an aviator in the Air Force’s Air Combat Command, flying both strategic and tactical reconnaissance missions for 20 years.

Soon after he turned 25 years old, having already attained the position of Airborne Analyst, he began to lead covert missions in many areas throughout the world. As an Airborne Mission Supervisor, he amassed vast insights into geopolitical affairs.

As a member of a relatively small Intelligence, Surveillance, and Reconnaissance (ISR) career field within the Department of Defense, Eric is exceptionally qualified to regard the far-flung future of information gathering, and the planning and combat operations that his esoteric career supported. Through the course of his career, he liaised directly with the US Army, US Navy, US Marine Corps, JSOC, NRO, NSA, CSS, DIA, FBI, DEA, OSD, among other three letter agencies in the United States and other countries. While gaining experience in both overt and covert operations, he served in dozens of countries spanning the global. This vast knowledge culminated in assignment to the Pentagon, as a Deputy to the Air Force and Air National Guard Intelligence Managers. There he learned much about National Interests, National Policy, and National Strategy–how one flows to the next–and how best to facilitate the execution of the decisions of the government’s policy makers.

Now retired, he lives in Utah to be near his family. He is not married and has no children. Aside from writing, Eric enjoys skiing, hiking, mountain biking, robotics, model rocketry, electronics, travelling the country and world, and reading about history and science. His favorite books are Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, The Walking Drum, and, of course, Dune.

His current project, Sol Invictus–Senatus Populusque Solarus–the first installment of The Solar Chronicles, thoughtfully ponders the future of the Earth, and humanity’s struggle to survive while eliminating barriers to a just and free civilization living on a more verdant Earth, without sacrificing individualism. Other projects, past and present, include A Bowl, a Spoon, and a few Little Miracles, the Second Sun serial novel, and Surviving the Singularity, as well as many short stories. He primarily enjoys writing hard-boiled science fiction using the known physical laws of nature–and historical fiction, using actual historical events as a backdrop.

Eric respectfully requests that you support manned space flight, the NASA budget, and the funding of private and corporate spacing start-ups with your vote. If we had stayed the course after Apollo 11–instead of throwing good money after bad in unnecessary wars–these United States would already have nuclear fusion power, hotels in orbit, bases on the moon, mines on asteroids, and colonies on Mars–along with a much greener planet. The country that dominates space will holds the keys to the future, and the guaranteed survival of our species.

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To my brilliant & munificent family–among whom I include my closest of friends–in return for their unconditional love and tremendous support. No person receives a greater gift than family. I feel especially grateful to my parents, who have sustained me through the zeniths and nadirs of life.

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ACT I

De Omnibus Dubitand em

In Everything Exists Doubt

ONE

THE DELIVERYMAN

REVOLUTION-358

ORBIT-2247 CE [END OF CYCLE]

LOCATION-Victory Park-Ǽskelonn-SEDNA-Outlands

U riens desperately wanted not to do murder again, but he knew that he would–and soon–whether in person or virtually, via identity scramble ¹ or proscription ². He disliked murder and committed it often. Neither famous nor infamous, haughty nor humble–Uriens existed at once, nobody and anybody he chose. Like a quantum particle, he had carried out his orders, never questioning or doubting, as if serving a law of nature. In actuality, those he served dwarfed that law–once so distant from the grasps of men–and bent it to their ever-mutable motivations with ease.

Once a mighty oak, Uriens now sat here near the edge, used up like charcoal dust after the carbon fire. The torture bothered him more than the killing; nevertheless, his job required both, and much more. The University required U to inflict pain for pain’s sake, although he reviled it as much as did his not-so-guiltless victims. Outright torture never served the objective as efficaciously as fear and confusion, and only left U feeling tormented, and the targets of the University dead. But then why not? He deserved torment, unlike most of his innumerable victims.

To kill or not to kill? A question beyond his control, and for others to answer. He merely played the deliveryman of the wills of better-known actors.

Even though his doctor recently adjusted his neurochemistry ‘to think only happy thoughts’, his fantasy of peace evaporated before the first punch or final pull of the trigger. A feeling of unreality surrounded the fading man and anxiety pressed down upon him, as if it were the full weight of this icy Kuiper Planet³, banishing clarity to the other end of the Solar System. Why am I here? U asked himself. Uriens was the best of men and did not yet know it, as he served under the worst.

A man’s mind rarely belongs to himself, but to his father–and his father decided on U’s fate long ago. Brought into the evil fold at the vulnerable age of eight, his instructors twisted his mind into their way of thinking. Maintaining an orderly society constituted the first principle. All the Universities laws and morals flowed from this basic assumption, no matter how harsh, cruel, or deceptive.

The manufactured leaves rustled with the wind of convection in the domed-contained atmosphere of Ǽskelonn. From his lonely park bench, he could hear the whir of the oxygen jets and CO2 scrubbers all around, and he found them quite disconcerting. Near the edge of the dome, he surveyed the city with his full wavelength oculus⁴ and he had to admit to himself that this outpost of humanity had risen in stature and was no longer just a backwater mining concern. It appeared slightly behind the contemporary; nonetheless, the populace thrived on the platinum trade.

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He transferred the data point from highCap⁵ to the oculus and it immediately went into search mode. A radian later, the device automatically entered targeting mode, signaling that it had found the man stored at that data point. The target did not even know the dossier existed, or that everyone in Sol had one.

They called the man in question Markus Serpens and he served the governor as his Chief of Staff. Uriens meant to proscribe this man on the lawful orders of the University Director. Once the infrared reticle settled on a target location, the x-ray mode kicked in and two men displayed in the lens. He turned on the voice and verified that the man was indeed Serpens, and the man standing over him, the Governor of Sedna–Aeri Ibanez.

He got up from the bench and found a secluded spot in the forested park. Then he removed an automatic rifle from his long overcoat. Once he unfolded it to full size it looked more like a tube with a canister on one end, with a tripod underneath it. He turned it on and the oculus-data transferred to the rifle automatically. U fine-tuned the oculus to aim for the base of the brain and then stood and watched.

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Once the rifle made its fine corrections for convection, building sway, wall thickness, and curvature of the small planet, it silently hurled its uranium round four and a half kilometers onward to its target. Less than a nanoRadian⁶ later the 10mm ballistic round cut through the walls with ease and tore through the throat and back through the medulla oblongata of Mr. Serpens.

Uriens watched as Serpens fell to the floor and Ibanez leapt for cover that did not exist. But Uriens did not mean for him to die yet. The bullet would continue on its trajectory for another five kilometers before it would lose all of its kinetic energy. Uriens wondered as he arose at how many other innocents would die accidentally as the round wreaked its havoc as it travelled through the large high-rise. He hit the off button, pushing it twice, and walked away. He heard the muffled explosion as he exited the wood, and took his seat on the bench again.

You cannot trust in anything, U thought to himself, feeling that nothing existed in the universe in which he could plant his beliefs anymore–not a single oasis free from reality distortion. He had once heard an old sage say, There is nothing as pitiful as a fanatic who has lost his belief system. This described Uriens state of mind, as precisely as the bullet that just killed Mr. Serpens.

He leaned back into the park bench and pulled his hands through disheveled long platinum hair. Uriens struggled to draw a breath while watching the daunted faces pass silently by, knowing that he appeared intimidating in countenance, demeanor, and bulk. Uriens stood fully two-meters tall with vigorous features. He possessed remarkably white skin, relative to most Solarans⁷. Most women found him quite stunning when he was not bearing his usual scowl. He only smiled when stoned, and even then almost imperceptibly. He spotted a group of children at play in the park. They stopped and pointed at him. One of them laughed aloud. It did not upset him, as he was used to people singling him out as an oddity. The whole scene became dreamlike, as if he were out of his body looking down upon himself.

For U, life felt a bit more like an eternal nightmare. He often wished that he could force himself to wake to a life once pursued; unfortunately, an indescribable enervation⁸ left him powerless to act. He leaned his head back with an audible moan and peered through the far above transparent dome at the star blanketed sky, partially blocked but the Sun amplifiers⁹. It would remain relatively light for another 200 orbits¹⁰, and then back toward the utter darkness of deep space, called the far black by spacers. An advertisement cloud selling the latest in women’s foot fashion floated overhead, briefly obfuscating the view. Again, U mumbled to himself, Strange that they used to call this place the heavens. If hell did indeed exist, he felt sure that he existed in it.

U wanted to run, but to where he could not fathom. He could not leave Ǽskelonnn¹¹ for one more phase because he had rushed to complete his assignment early, anxious to get past it, and on to the drowning of his sorrows. More importantly, the freighter currently in orbit would be the last heading Solward¹² for another cycle¹³.

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Uriens’ wife did not know that he came here to eliminate more lives. She lived under the carefully constructed misconception that Uriens made his living as a Free Trader, making spacing runs to the Kuiper and back. U had not spoken with Alia since he had left Olympus City and knew that she would be very worried, since pirates were quite thick in the asteroids and beyond Neptune. U loved her, but he also knew that he had nothing to offer her beyond financial support, which was the only thing she did not need or want from him. U had cruelly deleted her last radiogram without comment. She had asked, even begged, to get some word from him on the wave; but, each time he had attempted to post a message, the words disappeared into the void that constituted his soul. Uriens felt his own cowardice and gave in to the idea that this portion of his life, which suffocated under unbelievably false pretenses, must be discarded if he were to continue. His superiors had warned him against marriage, as this life was not amenable to companionship. The anxiety overwhelmed him to the point of fainting, but unfortunately, he could not.

He sank deeper into the bench as the synthetic fall-colored trees and lifeless humans swirled all around. This life is not real, he continually repeated over in his mind for many revolutions, whilst he sat on that lonely bench at the end of civilization. On most other worlds, a man in his condition would awaken the next revolution locked in a treatment facility; but here on Sedna, not a soul cared. Here, on this minor world, Uriens possessed total license to lose his mind.

If Uriens’ handler detected the level of ennui that pervaded his being, death would surely follow by the doings of one of his fellow triOperativs–a close-knit group they were not, but he would surely know his assassins initial and they his own. The drug Seracin¹⁴–known as anomie to the junkies and black-market dealers–was the only source of comfort available to him now. His addiction, the only real gift that the University ever gave him, acted on his nerves much better than the doctor’s brain tinkering–but not for long.

At the first of his troubles, Uriens fought the desire to overuse, but as deaths and duplicities accumulated, he found himself giving into temptation more frequently. These revolutions a drug-induced chaos inevitably followed each operation. He usually awoke revolutions or even phases later, feeling lucky to remain alive. For all of the torment he felt, he still clung to what little life still existed for him.

The Academy had trained Uriens in the proper use of Seracin by dolling it out in small quantities for those who did well–and he had done ever so well. Seracin gave heightened awareness and superlative strength to its user. Unfortunately, it possessed incredibly addictive powers. SpecSci training attempted to control the later, but about forty percent of its personnel found themselves addicted, some much worse than others. The triArchy always tolerated abuse… until someone made a mistake, and then came time for another proscription.

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To Dis and his minions with this, what am I waiting for? U yelled, breaking the inertia and feeling unexpectedly more lucid. He sprang to his feet and pulled his silk cloak round his leather garb. No one within earshot dared notice the strange outburst from the tall pale man. His anxiety had temporarily abated, and this demanded a fix before the horrific feeling returned.

He exited the park onto a busy cobblestone avenue, leading toward the inner city. Massive gray-stone carved swords crossed one hundred meters above, as if to remind him of how far he felt from home. Uriens wondered over the who and why of their construction as he fought through a crowd of the black-hooded monks of the Evocati. Obsolete gravCars buzzed chaotically overhead, nearly drowning out the monotonous chanting of the mysterious warrior monks.

He plowed through the swarming crowds as he made his way towards the nearest lowbrow club. A renewed perception of chaos overwhelmed him; however just radians later, he exchanged the frenetic streets of Ǽskelonn for the darkness of a club, marked only by an illegible hieroglyph hanging unobtrusively over the entryway. He walked directly to the bar, pushing through several patrons and leaned over the counter, glaring at the barkeep.

Triple vodka neat and spiked, U said with great impatience.

What’s your poison? the bartender screamed over the ear piercing ethereal sounds.

Anomie, and make that a triple as well, Uriens yelled back, flinging an octagonal titanium coin onto the bar.

The bartender widened his eyes at the request, but after a condescending shake of the head and then a noticing of the coins value, he rapidly complied. He served the drink and collected the tender, muttering, "We don’t need any Outremer¹⁵ trouble in here! He could tell by style, accent, and manner that the caped man hailed from Mars. You inner-world types cause more trouble than your worth! You come out here, cause all sorts of havoc, and then steal our women to boot!" He spat behind the bar.

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U ignored him and took a long drink from the cup. A sense of peace instantly began to fill his soul, radiating outward from his stomach to his extremities, like the wave resulting from a rock thrown into a pond. The ability to reason re-entered his mind almost instantly. He looked back at the bartender and nodded with a smile.

"If we didn’t come out here, then where would you get your precious liquids and gasses from aye? H2O, O2, ³He¹⁶, your ¹H¹⁷, ²H¹⁸, ³H¹⁹… shall I go on? Besides platinum, all you have on this icy rock is a few decades worth of methane frozen so solid that it is not even worth the cost to defrost. Your women are the least you can offer for the ability to breathe!" Uriens finished with a jovial smile. He did not know if he even believed what he had just obnoxiously blurted–only that the man took the long road to offended him for no reason, and U’s mood demanded a reprisal.

The barman appeared noticeably relieved and nodded back politely, stopping short of his own smile. Not at all what Uriens expected, but his thought wandered elsewhere.

U walked to the nearest empty table and sat alone as he liked. As his night-vision finally kicked in, he began to take notice of his surroundings. Only one of his retinal implants worked properly, so it took the broken eye time to catch up.

He suddenly perceived the coldness of the round stone piles that functioned as tables and chairs. Only small lights in the middle of each table, narrow strips of flashing lights along each corner, and motion-blurred infrared-inked bodies broke the utter darkness of the club. Successive dance floors formed into a wide spiral staircase until it became impossible to see where they ended. Dancing crowds filled each successive level, which twisted around a large central pillar, from whence the pounding music emanated. The place, filled near to its capacity with the young pleasure seekers of the drab colony, stank of mold, alcohol, and human waste. If this stink hole were on Mars, it would surely be empty, U thought. Even so, he felt more himself with each gulp, and trivialities disappeared from his thoughts.

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He sipped slowly now and especially enjoyed the ability to breathe in the stench of the warm and humid air. Having grown up in the cold and humid ice caves of Argos of Europa, U rarely missed the thin dry air and the open expanses of Mars–but at this moment, he did. He truly longed for Mars; virtually terraformed with real plant life and an 80% atmosphere of oxygen, nitrogen, and carbon open to the stars. It even rained now and again.

He missed his wife incredibly, though the thought of returning to her sickened him with guilt. He found himself brainstorming ways to fake his own death, subsequently disappearing forever under the veil²⁰. Alia Anor could go on and live a happier life without him.

After sitting a while at the stone in a reverie, the anomie kicked into overdrive, imbuing Uriens with inconceivable lucidity and an unparalleled sense of euphoria. He noticed, with extraordinary perception, all of the activity surrounding him. Fine drunken girls with their drunken suitors danced to the ancient, unworldly music of the now dead Earth. He knew the song and it further uplifted him. He caught upon one very attractive woman in particular, and he could smell, even see her pheromones evaporate from her sweat. She sported jet black and platinum striped hair, with tattooed fire framing her yellow cat’s eyes and a slender, barely covered figure, revealing more ink in the bravura of tribes long dead.

He had not yet finished admiring the delicate motions of the looker when a very well built man began harassing her with profanity and assaulting her breast with his finger. I guess I know how I will be spending the rest of the night, U thought to himself.

U downed the last of his stout beverage as he stood and slammed the cup to the stone, crushing the aluminum container flat. He drew aside his cloak, exposing both a particle accelerator pistol, strapped under his right arm, and a plasma-edged broad sword, belted to his left hip. The sword had been in his family for countless generations, and could slice through metal like cake with its plasma-laser cutting edge. He walked resolutely towards the girl while ruthlessly eyeing her assailant, who now shook her violently by the arms. He could see no evidence of a weapon, but in these parts, it was a foregone conclusion that he had one.

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Uriens stopped his approach at an insultingly close distance from the man, who boldly turned to face him square and keened in to signal that he wanted his space back. Both of Uriens’ hands floated millimeters above their respective weapons. The man was shorter, but a full thirty kilos his better. U glared down into his shrinking eyes with the resolve of an over-medicated maniac.

The man flinched and backed off a half pace, but recovered quickly. Can I help you, freak? the brigand asked confidently, spitting to punctuate his persistence. U did not respond and only intensified his glare. The music continued its blare, but the surrounding crowd hushed and focused on the scene. U sensed the two men approaching from his left rear, but remained calm and motionless.

Since yur likes aint from these pahts, I’m gonna ‘sume yah downe know what a jam yur in raght na. Wherefores, a’ll jes’ fill ya in a tic. Your messin’ wit da wrong scrappa, the man said pointing at himself–more assertive now that his cohort had arrived. I’m thinkin’ yuer ‘ona get at a here and n’er let muh see yur preta china white face ‘gin. Ya foul trinket peddlas all times shows up in places lack dis loo’ing to daih.

Uriens had a hard time following the man’s obliteration of the language, but he could guess at the content. No worries large one. I’ll leave, but she’s coming with me, U said flatly. The girl stood frozen with fearful wide eyes. U was ready to die to protect the honor of this woman he had never even seen before–a strange irony, considering how he treated Alia, whom he loved dearly. Briefly, the thought ran through Uriens’ mind, Is this honor, mere suicidal behavior, or am I just looking for some company?

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The man looked beyond Uriens, towards the approaching duo and gave a quick affirmative nod. U turned with lightning speed, just in time to see both men, side by side and three meters distant. Each brigand held a half-raised particle accelerator pistol, so without hesitation, U drew both of his weapons, aiming his carbine with the left hand, and holding the blade in his right hand. Before either man could aim properly, he closed his eyes and let fly his first salvo of destructive hydrogen ions. He could see the blinding flash through his eyelids and knew that all those near would suffer momentary blindness. Snow blind! he shrieked for added effect, and then laughed demonically.

He immediately opened his eyes to find one assailant falling to the ground with major brain trauma, as light spilled into the room like a sunburst–the ParAcc²¹ had burned a three-centimeter hole clean through the brigand’s head and another right through the back wall. The remaining miscreant fired his larger particle accelerator carbine²², but the previous blinding flash caused his aim to stray high, blowing a large hole in the floor above, effecting the mangling of several people and the near collapse of the floor above. Debris and bodies rained down upon him.

This time, the instant switch from dark to light temporarily half-blinded U as well, but luckily, his left eye had adjusted to shut out bright visible light in time–none of the debris landed upon him or his new paramour. He pressed his eyes closed firmly again, and from memory took aim, firing a second stream of super-accelerated particles.

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Simultaneously, he raised his right arm, holding the family blade high. Without opening his eyes, he turned round and brought the blade down in a swift and deadly arc. U felt the slight resistance and knew he had hit his mark.

Uriens opened his eyes, but could only see a large white cloud, surrounded by darkness in his right eye. He heard the man whimpering on the ground in front of him, followed by the grasp of a small soft hand upon his arm. The mystery woman led him out of the club and back to the light of the protective dome, where he shut down the right eye temporarily, until his stereo vision could recuperate.

Remind me to get that eye fixed princess, U said with a laugh.

Data Point 01

The End of Reality

1F 2F 3A FA A1

Level IV

C ivilization once held that nuclear annihilation, disease, famine, volcanos, or perhaps even an errant asteroid would trigger the end of Mother Earth. No one ever thought to ponder that the loss of reality would be the root of her demise, and that the following calamities would merely be consequences rather than the cause.

Until the third millennium of the Common Era, humanity considered reality a largely known quantity. The rich and powerful, and communists and tyrants alike proved capable of skewing truth with propaganda, but people could still believe what they saw and verify the facts of a matter. They could still find facts, when and where the strength of character existed; nevertheless, by the middle of the twenty-first century, anyone with sufficient wealth became capable of the wholesale manufacture of reality. As the credibility of the carefully controlled information decayed, so went the accountability of governments and corporations to the common people. Originally, people merely labeled this as hyperbolic-propaganda.

The collection of knowable information to which we are exposed creates our reality, our world. By the orbit 2075 CE, those who controlled information also controlled reality. Individual discernment became completely unreliable.

Any malleable record offered itself to falsification, and the results satisfied human sensory perception, if not inner thought. Documentation devolved to irrelevancy in the decision making process–whether written, seen, or heard. Censors replaced entire library collections, burning or rewriting books, deleting or changing words, and controlling all forms of media. And the first books the censors deleted were Orwell’s 1984, and Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, lest people read them, discovering the depth of their own delusions.

The technology to forge reality quickly outpaced the technology required for proper verification. Humanity lost once closely held ideals and the understanding of right and wrong. Worst of all they lost their faith in free agency, the bastion of modern civilization.

As the Earth’s population soared and humans migrated to fill in the solar system, reality further disintegrated. Personal reality modification became the mainstay of entertainment–humans spent less time living actual lives and more time living fabricated fantasies of an ersatz Earth in a virtual galaxy. Powerful addictions to pseudo-reality became commonplace and invaded all sects of society.

People died often, and in strange ways. Some simply lost their minds, unable to discern the reality from the fantasy, not knowing which version they were located. People would dehydrate or starve to death, jump off buildings, get shot pretending to be superheroes, get caught committing atrocious crimes, and on with the litany of foolish mistaking of the actual real from the convincingly real.

Nations seeking to assert control over their citizens began covertly re-engineering reality, through the manufacture of recorded events and forgery of circumstances. This was nothing new, but now governments modified video, audio, and written records alike to fit the present need. Governments ran huge Hollywood-like facilities to produce their fraudulent world. Eventually individuals followed suit, whether it were the ultra-rich seeking to suit their greed, or the commoner seeking to avoid the consequences of their illicit actions. Information management became information modification and perception control turned into reality control. Eventually even the most powerful and wealthy lost control over reality, as it became easier and less costly to counterfeit.

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When even the intelligentsia could no longer tell the difference between a good ol’ fashioned conspiracy theory–invented and propagated by ignorant fools–and a real conspiracy, the end drew near.

Governments, churches, universities, and the other institutions of civilization collapsed. Both scientist and the fourth estate found themselves completely helpless to establish and circulate the truth.

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War, famine, and disease turned out to be the symptoms, rather than the ailment. After a virulent influenza epidemic and several limited nuclear exchanges, the Earth’s population plummeted–humanity rapidly decreased from twelve-billion souls to less than eight-hundred million, as the human race could no longer sustain itself upon the Earth.

TWO

Pale Horse, Pale Rider

Revolution-361

Orbit-2247[End-of-Cycle]

Location-Sage 11 agroColony-Ganymede-Jove

B uried deep within the ghetto of Sage Eleven Colony, property of the Sage Agricultural Corporation (SAC), Centurion Aurelia Bain raged. The scenes that she regularly supplied never disappointed, save for those against whom she vociferated.

That’s the 545th case of ‘Dis only knows’ on Ganymede so far! Luckily, the virus–I am sure that the infections are viral–confined itself to this colony as far as we know. The r-naught is around eight! We are going to need at least five more doctors along with forty or so medical technicians here if we are going to classify and contain it. I am sure that there are many more cases incubating as we speak. We have already killed all of the birds and swine, and burned them, Aurelia said as she paused to catch her breath. She puffed out her chest again and continued. Unfortunately, the virus spread to the plant life, so we are burning that as well. Why SAC failed to maintain these filters, and why the University Health Directorate failed to inspect them is beyond me. This was easily avoidable, as usual, but we know why it wasn’t!

Aurelia spoke to a 1:5 hologram transmitted from the University medical ship–in geocentric orbit above the colony–right to her desktop. I will dispatch assistance immediately. You just get that situation under control, Primus Aachen said dejectedly. He had given up trying to out rank her.

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She continued as if she had not even listened to his response, And the only reason we are here is that they are worried about an outbreak beyond the other agroColonies. Otherwise, they would just let them all die! I wonder what the Senators from SAC will have to say to the Director

Who are they, Doctor Bain? They are you–they are we–there is no difference, he answered her outburst and veiled threats with more than a hint of sarcasm. Sometimes I feel like your status as citizen and centurion means nothing to you. Just concentrate on the task! Are we clear?

Yes sir, Aurelia said, uncharacteristically dispensing with her recalcitrant attitude. She knew that her attractiveness and the fact that her father–Gaius Bain–held the rank of Prefect, afforded her a wide berth with her superiors. It never bothered her, as long as they never questioned her superior abilities, which they never did. She did not realize that puffing out her chest intending to display her assertiveness–actually tended to make her victim’s mind wander, as well as the minds of every other male within sight.

Is there anything else you require Doctor? asked Aachen feebly, shaking off the view and hurried to away from her, lest he promise her command of his ship.

Has the press gotten the word out about the quarantine yet? Have notices to the naval fleet and civil traffic been issued? She did not wait for a response, Because two more unauthorized flights arrived here this morning and I had to turn them away before some nitwit got infected. The freighter captains both said that they were uninformed of the situation and were quite obstinate. I don’t have time for this dross!

Yes, but there is nothing we can do about civilian crews that don’t read the ITNs, he said, referring to the Interplanetary Travel Notices used to inform ship captains of various sorts of danger and concerns outside the norms."

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Well, it’s a big distraction for me. Please take care of it. I have to get back now. Is there anything else? She asked dismissively, as if she were talking to a subordinate.

Nothing for now, but I expect full documentation of the situation to date by 06:00 revolutions tomorrow, and The Prefecture is requesting the name of those errant pilots, he said, attempting to assert his dubious authority.

Then I had better get busy. Goodbye, she said curtly and switched off the commLink, again disregarding his rank. She knew that her Dignitas could use a lot of polish, but she cared nothing for it, as the very idea of it enraged her. Huh, Honor That anachronistic idea insulted her to the core–another stratagem to keep people in their place. The hologram flickered off as she stormed out of the makeshift office towards her absurdly inadequate lab. She yelled behind her, "Suzuki, get those names to the Primus so I can forget him for this rev.

Suzuki shook her slack-jawed head and quickly went about complying.

As Aurelia passed by the quarantine area, she peered through the one-way mirror at the rows of feverish patients, lying helplessly in their beds. They already over-filled the ward and she would have to set up another before rev’s end. Eight people had already died of Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome seemingly caused by a slow incubating hemorrhagic fever that started in the plural cavity. She expected many more cases in the coming phases. Eight-thousand farmers worked in this facility and most of them lived in an underground ghetto of 25,000 souls.

They had already declared the entire ghetto a quarantine zone, closed the agroFacility, and destroyed some fifty-million chickens and 20 million pigs, and countless tons of grain.

Aurelia felt conflicted. She enjoyed being a citizen of the University and the privileges that it provided, but she never understood why the EU used the under classes like tools and disposed of them like grey water. She wished for a return to the robotic automation of