
SALT SPRING:

BATTLE ROYALE

by JACK TENG
Salt Spring: Battle Royale, copyright (C) 2016 by Jack Teng

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. People, places, events, and situations are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historical events, is purely coincidental.

If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favorite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

# Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Salt Spring: Battle Royale

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25
To my partner and her continued support of my mad dreams

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

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# Chapter 1

John's spindly cadaver was artfully arranged in an o-so-tragic contortion amidst a yellow-flecked thicket of flowering Scotch broom. Yet, in spite of his being assuredly dead, Maia had a hard time not expecting John's corpse leaping up, wiping away his make-up and babbling his familiar obsessive self-commentary that had been pre-recorded, uploaded and helpfully tagged in clever ways:

"What do you think? I got it to look sad, didn't I? The yellow flowers are good touch, huh? Yellow is the symbol mourning somewhere, I'm sure of it. Dramatic, right? Touching! Real emotion! Did you feel tears? C'mon, did you? #TRAGEDYSTRIKES #INNOCENCELOST #OTHEDRAMAOTHETERRIBLEDRAMA!"

...but John remained dead, blissfully silent and immobile, sparing Maia any of the nonsense she'd managed to avoid the last five years after the Liberation. However, much to her irritation, Maia realized that though she was kinda happy the little bugger was definitively dead, her happiness had immediately engendered guilt - which she attempted to smother with a scowl.

Damn it, Maia cursed to herself. John had better be dead. She didn't come all this way, suffering the put-put-putting of an interminable ferry-ride from Vancouver to the backwater, hippie-infested island of Salt Spring, just to get punked by an idiot staging an effect for his intranet vidseries, I, John: Journeys of an Activist in a Brand-New World. The stupid vidseries was mostly a combination of feel-good puff-pieces and slap-stick inanities, liberally sprinkled with superficial, obligatory social commentary that parroted the Council narrative. Predictable and mentally unchallenging as it was, it was also unaccountably popular, while for Maia the very thought of watching it made her recoil in disgust.

And yet, admittedly, like just about everyone else on the Council's buggy, signal-dropping intranet, she'd distantly followed his show. It wasn't like she had a choice: there wasn't much else on the intranet ever since the connection to the corporate estate-controlled net had been severed, along with its near infinite collection of polished entertainment that so effectively distracted, chewed time, and numbed the senses. In her weaker moments, Maia wasn't so sure if the loss that came from the Great Cutting of the Net had been worth it. As a point in fact, one of John's particularly annoying recurring gags involved a talking septic tank and a slug-eaten head of savoy cabbage, the memory of which made her start to roll eyes... An act that she immediately hid with a half-yawn, realizing that making faces probably wasn't entirely appropriate for the circumstance, what with John being dead and all.

Turning to the man standing at her side who had been staring intently at her, Maia said with in a professional-ish tone, "Is this how you found John's body? Was anything disturbed?"

"Yes, m'am. This is exactly how we found him. Nothing was disturbed. I, ah... I don't think... anybody touched the site... that I know of anyway," the man hesitated, bobbing his mop of dirty blond hair up and down, as he nervously flicked dirt off his paramedic's uniform and smoothed out invisible wrinkles. He was a small, over-weathered stump of a man, who looked in his forties, but was more than likely half that age. Similarly deceiving, though he was dressed for the part in a blotchy blue, repeatedly mended EMS jumpsuit, Maia doubted that the man had any experience as a paramedic, and had been simply given the post as a pro forma necessity.

"What about the permastate cover? Did you apply it correctly? I don't want to be missing any evidence here. I can see decay along the edges," Maia asked again, critically nudging her toe at the ground where there was a slight, but perceptible change in color tone marking the area where the permastate cover blanketed the site and preserved everything in graphite mesh impregnated with nanoparticulate paraphlane. Frankly, there was no real way to assess decay without taking micron-samples and cycling it through a quantum sequencer, neither of which Maia had the capacity to do; if pressed (she knew she wouldn't), she would have to say that she could see no decay and it seemed the permastate cover had been applied correctly. However, Maia rationalized her caustic line of questioning with the assumption that there was always some use in her pulling rank and establishing dominance with comments like, "You know how important this is, don't you? The Council wouldn't have sent someone like me here unless it was a high priority issue."

"Y-yes... yes. I know... of course, I know. I'm so sorry about the decay... I'm really sorry. I take full responsibility," the man squirmed, panic streaking across his eyes, as he explained himself with, "We did our best. I swear we put down the permastate cover properly as soon as we discovered John's body. At least I think we did. B-but we have barely any supplies left for a case like this so we couldn't complete the whole preservation protocol... I've requested that the Council replenish our inventories with... with anything really. I-I filled out the forms and sent them as they asked, but I didn't get anything. We desperately need more regenplasma, flextissues and totipotes... And we even need the basics like sterile pads, anaesthestics. I just don't understand what we're expected to do if they can't..."

The man suddenly clapped his hand in front of his mouth, his eyes widening in horror as he realized how his half-frustrated and half-critical words may be taken. Taking a leap backwards and waving his hands frenetically in front of him, the man hastily blubbered,

"Not that I'm saying the Councils did anything wrong! I understand the system! I respect the system! The system protects us! I know this! I'm not questioning the Council! I know they did the right thing! They have to balance the scarce resources in this time of need. They work for the People. For us... B-but we really don't have anything. We had to sacrifice two treatments' worth of supplies to put on the permastatecover for John, and I swear I thought I did right. Oh, please tell me I did it right. I really thought I did! I can't have done it wrong! Oh, please, tell me I didn't do it wrong. I can't have been that stupid. No! I did the best I could! I know how important this is, I know what it's about..."

Whoa. That was unexpected, Maia thought to herself, taken aback by the man's meltdown. Honestly, she'd only intended to establish her authority with a mild level of aggression and a harmless veiled threat. Apparently though, she'd gone too far and caused what appeared to be a past trauma with authority to come up in the poor little man. Maia reminded herself yet again the post Liberation society was a new order - one free of the violent exploitation and repression of the corporate estates; but old habits die hard. It took a moment for Maia to collect herself in front of the man's freakout before she soothed him with, "Hey, it's alright. I'm sure you did the right thing, ok? Everything will be fine. How about let's calm down now, ok?"

Still freaking out, the man continued his fear-laced ramble, "But if I did it wrong... I don't know... I don't know... I'm expected to do it right! What will happen if the evidence is lost? You said yourself permastate cover is decaying..."

"You know what? I think I was wrong about that. Look! If I examine the cover carefully, it seems the preservation is practically perfect," Maia said, crouching down closer to the edge permacover and making a show of peering at it and smiling as she forced her words to come out brightly. "I must have misjudged the state of permastate cover. The sun this morning must be playing tricks on my eyes. Weird glare makes everything look different, you know? It looks great. Perfect preservation. The Council will be very pleased with the results. I'll be happy to tell them that you were very resourceful in your difficult situation. You did great, er... uh... What was your name again?"

"SriSharma Rodger Johnson, paramedic third-class," the man answered snifflingly, appearing to respond to Maia's comforting.

"Ok, SriSharma. How about let's get to work, alright?" Maia said, working her mouth into what she hoped was a genuine smile, as she tried to coax him to help her finish dealing with John's death. But, instead of helping:

"Praise Holy Hanuman the Merciful, the Generous, the Great Limbed Climber for watching over me," SriSharma intoned, looking upwards and raising his open hands over his head. Then, his prayer over, he took a deep shuddering breath, and then locked his gaze with Maia's and said, "Bless You for Your Purity and Your Just Judgment. I am happy and relieved You are here."

"Amen," Maia added awkwardly, doubtfully considering the claims of her being 'pure' and 'just' in her mind; but, as they had proven themselves many times over in cases like this, they were fictions that were worth putting up with.

Donning her studiously well-practiced solemn expression, it was times like this that she was grateful for her dad's genes. Her stoic, emotionless Asian look never failed to be 'exotic' and 'inscrutable' with the added cachet of being 'spiritual,' a quality that was expected of her. If hadn't been clear in her head before, the desire to finish her job and get the Hell off the wacky island crystalized for Maia, as she motioned to SriSharma to help her with removing the permastate cover.

"Ok. How about you get on the other side there? Good. We need to get this cover off in one piece so I can start cataloging the evidence. Careful, watch that branch there. Hold on to the side of that..."

But, just as Maia was about to pull off the permastate cover with SriSharma, a voice roared savagely, "HEY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" causing the two of them lose their grip and balance, ultimately resulting with them falling backwards onto the ground, which Maia discovered was still wet from the morning dew.

Startled and furious at the dampness spreading in the seat of her pants, Maia scrambled to her feet and spun around angrily to tell off the idiot who nearly ruined the delicate procedure--and was left to stare at the sight of a huge, hairy, heavily tanned thick-limbed man stomping towards them and who was completely naked except for... No, correction, he was completely naked. Maia had initially thought something was covering his crotch (wishful thinking, perhaps), but the man's bits were so sunbaked that they were invisible amidst the scraggly black hair that sprouted from everywhere. Utterly repulsed by the feral beast-man and irritated at having been disrupted, not to mention to have been caught off guard, Maia spat angrily:

"How dare you interfere! This is official Council business! I can have you arrested for..."

"Who the fuck are you?" the beast-man interrupted with a hoarse growl, his arms crossed as he peered at Maia with dark, bloodshot eyes through a forest of wiry facial hair. Much to Maia's relief, he'd stopped a few paces away--a fact that didn't prevent his particularly strong odor from emanating to her and nearly causing her to gag.

"Stefan, you really can't do this," SriSharma protested meekly, his voice quavering, as, to his credit, he mustered some strength to speak in spite of his evident terror. Shaking and quivering, he seemed to be collapsing inwardly on himself in an attempt to get away. "Don't you know she's the..."

"Shut the fuck up, or I'll goddamned tear your head off and shit down your neck," Stefan snarled without sparing SriSharma a glance. Repeating his question to Maia, he said, "Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I have no reason to answer to you. I am on official business from the Council," Maia said coldly, straightening her slight figure in front of the intimidating mass of the man staring her down. With a dismissive, cocky sniff that didn't match her internal uncertainty, she bravely said with all her stores of confidence, "Stefan, is it? The Council does not submit to threats. You tell me who you are and why I should answer you."

"You mean besides the fact that I can crush your throat with my one hand?" Stefan sneered, dismayingly without any humor, but nevertheless answered, "I am Dr. Stefan Montview, head of the Salt Spring Island ReWilding Society, the official stewards of the sacred lands surrounding Maxwell Bluffs, upon which you are currently fucking trespassing. That alone is fucking enough for you to be fucking getting the fuck out of here, but if that's not fucking enough, I am also a permanent member of the Salt Spring Island Directorate, which--by the fucking way--has official fucking jurisdiction on these lands and not your precious fucking Council who's based in fucking Vancouver. Enough? Now tell me who the fuck you are."

Refusing to be cowed, Maia crossed her arms and set her jaw, knowing that her own credentials were not only legitimate but more impressive than that of the barbaric fool yelling at her. Slowly reaching into her satchel, she drew out her official Council-stamped datapad, tabbed to the appropriate page and showed it to the so-called Dr. Stefan, declaring,

"My name is Maia Lam, Messiah of the Revolution #3049. I am the Council's official designate in the case of the death of Mr. John Ellis. As for your claims of jurisdiction, official transfer of jurisdiction from the local authorities to the Council authorities has been approved by your own Charter Section 3c-8 Paragraph 3 and I quote, 'Local government may be overruled by a two thirds majority vote by the Council over a period of...'"

"Alright, that's fucking enough," Stefan grumbled, but no longer seemed as ready to pounce as before. "So you're one of those Messiah's, huh? We'll fucking see about that. Follow me. You're coming to meet the Directorate."

And, before Maia could reply, Stefan turned around and strode off, leaving her with considerable gratitude that things didn't end poorly--but also gratitude that the miasma of Stefan's odors was wafting away, and that his hair also matted his rear end.

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# Chapter 2

The theory of course, tinged as it was with idealistic fervor, was that the people in small local communities, knowing the issues of their neighbors and friends, would also be the best at making policies that were meaningful, relevant, and impactful; as opposed to being dictated to by a distant government with the nominal appearance of a deliberative, legislative assembly, but was in actual fact a self-serving network of cronies producing regulations that used small, distant communities as pawns in a game political brinkmanship. In addition, having local communities govern themselves was, again theoretically, supposed to be more efficient, as the people, empowered to act in their own interests, would be able immediately enact positive, progressive and enlightened changes--without having to wait for the interminable discussions, meetings and procedurals that would have otherwise drawn out the process of implementation until it was smothered in compromises and addendums, and rendered completely meaningless and useless. Hence, the big push for local governance and the creation of community-driven Directorates.

Sounds great doesn't it? Indeed, soon after the Liberation had wrought its glorious course and, still drunk on its dizzying, unbelievable success, cries pealed out--and Maia was among them--rousingly sloganeering,

"Power to the people! Re-enfranchise local communities! Real policies for real people! Your neighbor, your friends, your interests!"

Those were the official lines anyway. While central power did devolve down from the Council to local communities, it wasn't like there were many other options on the table. Amidst the hair-pulling and hand-wringing discussions that the Council held on how to implement the changes they had fought for - not to mention exactly what they were planning to do shape the newly Liberated society into everyone's dreamy utopia - they quickly realized that they had no way to enforce anything they were to decide. With the Liberation's intranet functioning through a cobbled web of dial-up connections and restored fiberoptic lines, there was no way to reliably keep in touch with far flung populations, let alone have meaningful conversations to build consensus on how to act. Similarly, most of the militia was dedicated to protecting the new borders from inevitable incursions and skirmishes from the corporate estates, so there were scant personnel to go about and ensure the decisions of the Council were being followed. Besides, there was the small detail that it wouldn't have been terribly good optics should they have decided to send armed police-state-styled troops to enforce rules, however well-intentioned, in a similar manner as the regime they had just toppled.

Consequently, the Council "magnanimously" announced with much fanfare and celebration that they were legitimizing the formation of local Directorates because not only did they have a deep trust in the judgment of the People, but that it was the correct thing to do based on the humanist, respectful, loving values they all shared. Obviously. The declaration was effectively saying to the newly emancipated population: See? The Council wasn't at all like the old, autocratic, repressive, corrupt government who cared only for the interests of the powerful corporate estates. From now on, the Council would only manage the protection of the People and govern the small area around Vancouver where they were headquartered (and where 70% of the population resided anyway), while they trusted everyone else to run their own affairs without worry.

To be fair, the Council genuinely did want the local populations to govern themselves - though more specifically, they wanted them to govern themselves well so that they could effectively forget about them and focus on more pressing matters; it wouldn't be very good for the sustainability of the Liberation if the smaller communities degenerated into a rabid infighting and vicious fiefdoms. Thankfully, getting the Directorates to work wasn't too difficult, especially considering that the previous government's approach was a combination of maintaining a system of serfdom and complete exploitation of resources. Anything after that, while imperfect, was an improvement. Sure enough, while there were some hiccups and some failures that were quickly quieted, for the most part, the newly assembled Directorates did their jobs well and managed their resources better than before, and people generally were significantly happier.

Somewhat comfortingly, the Directorates fell within an acceptable spectrum where on one end, there were perfect model-citizens blessed with amazing communication and planning skills, and on the other end, were near dysfunctional groups of bickering, grudge-bearing people who nevertheless managed to trundle along in spite of their attempts not to. In the case of the Salt Spring Island Directorate, its functionality fell somewhere along the latter end of the spectrum - and Maia, mused, might have redefined the extent of it all by themselves.

Sitting around an unvarnished, rough-cut pine table that took up most of the space in the cramped cabin, what was supposed to be a rational discussion about Maia's unquestionable authority and jurisdiction on the matter of John's death had degenerated into a familiar debate about legitimacy and revolutionary creds.

"Of course I know what I'm talking about! Are you doubting me? Is that what you're saying, Stefan!?! Are you?!" shrilled a long-limbed, scraggly-bearded old man, as he vigorously jabbed a corded arm in the direction of Stefan, whose continued nakedness Maia could be at least grateful was only visible from his chest up.

"Yeah? What if I am, Mr. fucking 'Famous' I-took-down-a-chopper RajTwight?" Stefan snorted dismissively, and to underscore his words, he leaned slightly to the side and released a mighty, sonorous fart. "No one fucking saw what you say you did. Take down a chopper my goddamned hairy ass. You didn't fight with us. You were fucking nowhere on the battlefront, and definitely not where I was. And I was fucking there. I didn't sit out the Liberation like a wanker."

"Whaaaaat?" RajTwight's eyes bulged as he pounded his two fists simultaneously on the table in indignation, and proceeded to pull up his shirt and point at a long snaking red scar on his chest, "You see this? You see it, you bastard? This is my scar from when I got shot by one of their troopers! And this is cut when I was lacerated by their barbed wire that I scaled to take over the power plants! It was right after that that I took down the enemy helicopter! It's all documented!"

"I fucking thought you got that when you slipped and fell during a first ascent on the Maxwell Bluffs. Wasn't that the fucking story you going with last month?" Stefan mocked, curling his lip and baring his teeth. "Get off whatever you're on, you pathetic fucker. You were nowhere close to the fighting and nowhere close to a fucking chopper. I was fighting the entire time and I saw nothing that you did."

"You monkey-ass barbarian! You know nothing! I got this during a secret operation ordered by the Council's own black ops! Of course you weren't there! You were nobody in the fighting! Fucking nobody!" RajTwight screamed, his hands contorting themselves into fascinating claws. "And why should anyone listen to you? Everyone knows you're not a real doctor! You're a goddamned fraud! That's what you are!"

Frankly, Maia was amazed that RajTwight hadn't leapt up and pounced on Stefan and started a brawl. In fact, it was remarkable that there hadn't been any physical fighting at all, as there had been similar arguments and wild accusations for the last half hour; the only violence committed was the prodigious amounts of spittle traveling from one side of the table to the other. The reason for the peace was that every time a verbal altercation got particularly bad, a thin, calm voice piped up to say,

"Stefan, RajTwight? I would like to say that I hear you both, and I want you to know that I love you the two of you and I want you to both feel safe," the strangely incongruent words - carefully and motheringly pronounced with especial emphasis on what Maia guessed were the emotive code words in the community - came from a frail, hunched-over old woman, who was already tiny by any measure, but amidst the loud posturing and screaming, her demure, passive quietness made her seem positively midget-like. Small and inconsequential as she seemed, the soft-spoken midget's words had a calming effect, as Stefan and RajTwight slouched back into their chairs, the first grinning triumphantly and the other with his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring and puffing angrily.

Clasping her hands in front of her and leaning forward, the old woman dropped her gaze on them through her thick glasses, saying in a watery, coaxing voice with a distinct admonishing undertone, "I just want to remind you that we are here to discuss the Messiah's request to investigate John Ellis' death - Hanuman bless his soul and may he reach the very peak of the Infinite Crag. Not to delegitimize your experience or invalidate your emotions, of course. I want you to know that I hear you both. As you know, John's case has been in process for some time, and we haven't made any headway on his case even though he was one of our climbing sanga members. We've also been so busy with preparing for the Solstice Celebration that's, goodness, three days from today and only a day after our Communal Devotional. We've just been unable to dedicate the resources to investigate John's death. So, I just want you to note that with the Council's help and also with their envoy, we may be able to move forward on it and satisfy the concerns of the community..."

"But that's the question, isn't it MahaLindy?" a ruddy-complexioned fiftyish man said from the other end of the table. Though he'd been mostly silent for most of the yelling match, he was notable in that his occasional interjections were usually short and incisive--but also that he was particularly well-groomed, his beard perfectly trimmed and his clothes seemingly on the new side and lacking any holes or patches. "We don't recognize the authority of the Council over local matters, which is what we've agreed John's death is considered. Therefore, having this Messiah here and involved, even though she could be helpful, would be a dangerous precedent for the Directorate's authority."

"Yes, perhaps it would be dangerous, Mark. Perhaps," MahaLindy agreed bobbing her head gravely and non-committally, easily deflecting Mark's concerns, while continuing: "But it still remains that we haven't made traction on the investigation. Don't forget that John was very well known on the intranet and it really doesn't look good that we haven't gotten very far the investigation of his death. I know that people in the community are talking about it and that..."

"Who is talking? What do you mean?" RajTwight shot out viciously, narrowing his eyes threateningly.

"It was in confidence, Raj," MahaLindy said sadly, emphasizing her convenient concern for privacy by tilting her head and sighing deeply as if the responsibility of it was crushing the air out of her. "The community trusts me to listen and that's what I do. You know I can't say anything."

"When will you tell us where any of your magical knowledge comes from, MahaLindy?" RajTwight spat out in frustration as he leaned back in his chair and snorted. "I'd like some proof that you actually do have the insight into the community's opinion as you claim you have."

"Not this again," Mark sighed rolling his eyes. "Do you want to make her cry again? We trust you alright, MahaLindy? Can we just move on?"

"I want to know who's talking! Is it people from the climbing sanga? Or is the wider community? All we ever get are these hearsays and rumors from MahaLindy!" RajTwight persisted, flicking his hand at MahaLindy, whose expression had taken on a mournful, pained quality. "This could be security concern and I want us to deal with it. You know that there's still corporate estate moles around right? You know that there are enemy provocateurs here. I want to know who they are... or if it's just MahaLindy's imagination so she can sit here as a Directorate member!"

"For goddamned fuck's sake! Let's fucking move on. We fucking trust you, okay MahaLindy? Enough?" Stefan exhaled, throwing his hands into the air, as he too tried to make RajTwight shut up, being as unwilling as Mark to make the old woman cry. "I don't fucking care who's talking shit about us. If their balls are too small to say it to my face, I don't fucking give a rat's ass what those bastards have to say."

"But, RajTwight has a concern about me," MahaLindy said softly, her eyes shimmering. "I think we should listen to him and..."

"Yes, we should!" RajTwight agreed angrily, nodding vigorously.

"Shut the fuck up, Raj," Stefan growled.

"But I..."

"Enough, Raj. Enough," Mark agreed firmly, throwing RajTwight a dark eye, finally shutting him up, and bringing the entire room into a blessed state of silence.

A taught, incredibly awkward stillness followed, as Maia and the three others watched MahaLindy sit with her head bowed, eyes closed, and hands clasped on her lap, as she struck a pensive, meditative pose. No one said anything, unwilling to interrupt MahaLindy in whatever she was doing. At last though, after a few long minutes in the superficially quieted environment, she looked up and cast a beatific smile to everyone, saying in a ponderously slow voice:

"I love you all. I accept you all. I now recall the passage that I read at the last Communal Devotional. It is as Guru John Long said, 'As you climb to the peak, you should expect wind.' I understand that there is distrust of the Council, Mark, and they should be considered. But what we should be considering is joining the Council to work with the Messiah to investigate the Maxwell Bluffs as equal partners. This way we could..."

Any hope of having a normal discussion amidst the calm and quiet was dashed by Stefan standing up abruptly in his chair and yelling as he pointed at Maia, "That's my goddamned TURF we're fucking talking about! It's a sacred grove dedicated to the Holy Earth Mother! No fucking city-fucker is going to tell me how run my fucking area and poke around where they fucking shouldn't!"

"Why? Do you have something to hide?" Maia interjected, finally getting a few words in, as she forced herself to meet Stefan's gaze - which was a mildly better than staring at his sagging, carbonized genitalia.

Putting Stefan on the spot may not have been the wisest move, as the Directorate still had neither recognized her authority as a Council-sanctioned agent nor, much more concerningly, did they seem to have good relations with the Council itself; Maia suspected it was still possible for them end up deciding (in the best case scenario) to run her off the island or (in the worst case scenario) to tar and feather her or burn her at the stake in whatever kind of ceremony the inbred-island hicks did to amuse themselves. Either way, it had been worth it to say what she did to see Stefan's facial expressions rapidly slacken in shock and confusion, and then, as understanding set in of her accusation, transition to a combination of reddening embarrassment and anger.

"Hide? What? Fuck you! I've got nothing to fucking hide! You can't talk to me like that! I'm a damned Directorate member!" Stefan huffed, filling his chest with air and indignant anger, as he looked wildly around the room. But, if he expected any support for the other members of the Directorate, he was soon to be disappointed.

"Yes, Stefan. Isn't that a good question?" RajTwight asked with a malicious grin, as he clasped his gnarled fingers in front of him. "The area where John was found is one of your 'sacred' spots that only you and your ReWilders are allowed to go to. You've never even allowed any of my climber-pilgrims to the Maxwell Bluffs to enter there. Maybe John might have been saved if it had been a more open, public space, don't you think? I think it's time to reopen the conversation about your dominance there."

"The FUCK it is!" Stefan spat, fighting back at the unaccustomed feeling of being put at a loss. "We agreed... The Directorate agreed! The South face of the Bluffs is dedicated area to the Sacred ReWilding for the Holy Earth Mother! I manage it! The ReWilders manage it! No one else! It needs to stay Wild for the Sacred Ecology of the Island!"

"This could be time for an exception, Stefan," MahaLindy said, shrugging helplessly with a mournful look--cannily sensing the direction of the opinion and aligning herself with it. "It could just be temporary access..."

"No! Never! No fucking way! No one can go there! I know how fucking 'temporary' works here. It'll be a fucking bazaar there before I even goddamned take my morning dump!" Stefan screamed, but seeing that he was losing ground, he swiveled over to the easier target that Maia presented and pointed at her yet again. "You! This is your fault! Fucking Messiah my bloody fucking ass. Things were fine before you came! Get out of here! Get off the island! You fucking bitch! You can't do this to me! None of you can! You'll see! This can't be done!"

"Now, Stefan. You know that this doesn't have anything to do with Maia here," Mark said, deepening his voice for credibility. "MahaLindy is right. It could just be for a temporary access. Remember that John was a community member and we owe it to him to..."

"Fuck John! Fuck that spineless little asswipe fucker! He was never one of us! We owe him nothing!" Stefan shot back at Mark, chopping an arm sideways. He then squinted and contorted his face with contempt as he snarled at Mark: "You fucking shut up, rich boy! I know what you are! I never trusted you! John was one yours wasn't he? You fucking rich fuck! We should never have let you in."

Mark stood up at that and replied in a bristly voice, "That's completely uncalled for, Stefan. I've proven myself numerous times and I earned my place here on the Directorate. I've worked to reclaim the land here using my own personal resources. What have you done lately, Stefan, except block us in everything that could be good for the community?"

"Good point there, Mark," RajTwight jumped in gleefully. "That's all I've been saying all this time too. All Stefan does is block progress in our community. My climbers are trying to open more routes to devote to Hanuman, but the only areas left to open are places where Stefan has blocked us from. You can't be selfish, Stefan. You have to think about our community. I agreed in the beginning that having you here as part of the Directorate could be a good perspective, but I'm not even sure your voice is even that useful or relevant anymore."

"Fucking fuckers! None of you know fucking shit! I speak for the ReWilders! The Holy followers of the Gospel of the Deepest Ecology!" Stefan proclaimed, pounding his rug-like chest with one hand and lifting the other towards the heavens. "My relevance comes from the very mandate of the Holy Earth Mother! That's who I speak for! You and your precious climbers and their destructive hypocrisy can go fuck themselves!"

"Now, Stefan, I know you don't mean that," MahaLindy chided, her mouth forming disappointed moue. "We've agreed to respect each other and our faiths, and we've allowed our devotion to Hanuman link us all. You too participate in the Communal Devotionals where we praise both Hanuman and the Holy Earth Mother. We're not disrespecting you or disregarding your acts... We're trying to be practical about having access to..."

But the fairly reasonable words were interrupted with even more shouting that continued in the same circuitous fruitless vein, only much louder and progressively more incoherent:

"You fucking heathen polluting assholes! I revere the One Sacred Ecology of the Holy Earth Mother!"

"Sacrilege! I knew it! I knew it! He doesn't honor Hanuman like he said!"

"That can't be right, I know him. He means well. I love him and I love everyone."

"Here, now. This has nothing to do with our faiths. Remember: we're talking about a dead friend."

"YOUR goddamned friend, fucking rich-boy! He was no fucking friend of mine! He was a viper! We all knew it! Just like all your kind!"

"Totally uncalled for. Completely unfair. My success was ethical. I have proven myself. John proved himself."

"Oh, John. We all loved him. It was so sad."

"Wanker! Fucker! Goddamn his bones!"

"He's an apostate! He lied to us about following Hanuman!"

"I wouldn't go that far, but it does raise questions. We do still need to respect John's memory."

"Is this true? Are you an apostate? That has consequences, you know."

"Goddamn it. My area is Sacred! We agreed to it! It's SACRED!"

"You're trying to deflect us! It's not for Hanuman is it? You lied! I was right!"

"If that's true then it does void your claim and it returns to Directorate."

"It does, as much as it saddens me and I love you, Stefan..."

"YYYYAAAAARGGGH!!!!!" Stefan finally bellowed with all his might, shutting everyone up. As much as it made her ears ring, Maia had to admit that, after sitting through the Directorate's bickering, she too had an urge to scream as Stefan did - and that she was happy that the pointless discussion finally stopped. She also felt some envy when Stefan, after astonishing everyone into silence, spun around, held his hands over his ears and ran out the room, screaming, "FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU ALL! I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!!"

There was a moment of bemused silence after Stefan dramatically made his exit when Mark said, "Well, that could have gone better."

"You did hear him right?" RajTwight insisted, still trying to score points. "He isn't a follower of Hanuman. We can take back Maxwell Bluffs from that bastard. I've waiting for years to do it."

"Oh, we can't do that," MahaLindy said apologetically. "I know Stefan loves Hanuman. He's one of us."

Sensing the train of conversation potentially going down the same route as before, Maia quickly said loudly, "Ahem. Perhaps this is a good time to talk about access to John's remains? As the Council's designated Messiah in his case, I do have to remind you that I have jurisdiction in the matter." Seeing Mark about interrupt, Maia added, "...which is not yet decided. However, I would like to tell you that I am prepared to work in conjunction with you and share my results. The entire process can be transparent and accountable to both the Council and the Directorate." In truth, Maia had no intention of sharing doing this, but if it would help her finish her job, she was prepared to tell them she had a magical sentient mold growing in her ears that would cure cancer.

"Hmmmm..." RajTwight said thoughtfully but uselessly, as he tugged on the hairy tufts on his chin.

"I see... that's an idea..." Mark agreed, frowning and nodding into the air, also without adding anything of use.

"Well, my dear," MahaLindy said in turn with a soft generically loving smile, before shrugging and adding, "That's a fine idea. But we can't make that decision. You have to speak to our Director for that, but she's not here at the moment."

Maia nearly had a flip out that would have mirrored Stefan's screaming exit, as she struggled not to point out the phenomenal amount of time she had wasted in their company listening to their ridiculous nonsense, when apparently she should have been speaking to someone completely different. It took all her self-control to swallow down the choice words coming to her mind, and instead say in a calm and politely firm tone that would tolerate no more nonsense,

"Why, yes. I would be delighted to speak to your Director. If you tell me where she is, I can go speak to her."

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# Chapter 3

In retrospect, Maia realized suggesting to meet with the Director was a risky move. The Directorate could easily have claimed some made-up reasons to hold Maia off--like that they didn't have a quorum to make an effective representative decision after Stefan stormed out; or that their constitution's defined, agonizing procedurals wouldn't allow them to leapfrog her to their real decision maker whom they likely shielded and provided effective interference for.

However, having had ample experience sitting in exhausting, soul-grinding meetings, Maia correctly guessed that RajTwight, MahaLindy, and Mark had expended their patience on the issue, and were ready to give up, just be done with it and go about their lives. And so, after looking around to the RajTwight and Mark, who were antsily shifting in their seats in their readiness to get out the room, MahaLindy shrugged and, raising a limp wrist in the air, proposed a motion for Maia to be taken to the Director, to which they tiredly groaned their assent. Shortly thereafter, SriSharma, who'd been meekly waiting outside the cabin door, was called in and ordered to take Maia up to the Western Maxwell Bluffs, where the Director was apparently holding some kind of initiation ceremony for prospective climbing sanga members.

As Maia followed SriSharma up the mountain road, she tried to make conversation, hoping to wheedle out some more background information about what had happened to John, but the small man, apparently working through some kind of tortuous inner angst, replied monosyllabically and evasively, eventually causing Maia to give up trying. To put it mildly, the entire venture had been a series of frustrations and setbacks. She'd gotten used to the paralytic slowness of the Council and their neo-direct-democracy-based decision-making, but these Salt Springers were taking consensus building to new heights of absurdity.

Even when she first arrived to the island, instead of just hopping off and going on her Council-approved business, she was met by a trio of slack-jawed, crystal-covered, dreadlocked ferry terminal guards who proceeded to have her slowly repeat her business a half-dozen times until understanding finally filtered into their blood-shot eyes. Even then, it took the three of them, rehashing the same question among themselves for a full hour before they let her pass; clearly, Maia thought, their genepool had not only been isolated for too long, but some animal had taken a serious dump in it as well.

Not surprisingly, with these unexpected hikes and uninterrupted series of roadblocks, Maia had been successfully whipping up her irritation into a thick lather. She dearly hoped that this Director of theirs was going to prove herself to be at least half competent in her job - though she was quite prepared to be disappointed at this point. Even though she knew that investigating John's death would be difficult, Maia had no idea that it was going to be this insanely absurd. Given the politics surrounding the case, the Council had put pressure on her to take on the case and had dangled the promise of her own apartment in Gastown if she succeeded; but she also had no desire to go out of her way for the job - especially for the little twerp that was John. Damn hell, she thought angrily, noting sourly that her feet were beginning to feel sore and she was probably going to get a blister. Utterly ridiculous! Completely unreasonable! She desperately wanted to get out of this job, but the worst of it was that the best she could hope for was to have the case transferred to another Messiah, maybe Messiah 587 in the North Vancouver, who could take this crap job on... which was possible, but unlikely.

As she churned the idea of foisting this job on to someone else and formulated the strategies that would help her escape her duties, Maia almost didn't notice when SriSharma lead her around a large mossy boulder and into a tree-shaded clearing filled with lithe people and abutting a slabby wall of rock. Before she could process the sight of the confusing series of ropes suspended off the rock face, she was startled by sudden, urgent yelling from above them,

"TAAAAAAKE! TAKE! Please take! Please! Oh, please!" Craning her head up, Maia saw that the panicky cries were resonating from an indistinct man stuck about sixty feet up on the rock face. In theory, it was fair to guess that he was climbing, but at the moment he appeared to be hugging the rock like a mountainous simian starfish, his arms and legs splayed out and completely extended. The response to his distress was unsympathetic.

"No taking, Richard!" a lanky, dark-haired middle-aged woman replied sternly from below, looking upwards at the paralyzed figure.

As Maia approached, she could see that the hapless Richard and the woman were connected by one of the suspended ropes, where, on the woman's end, it passed through a small metallic belaying device attached by a biner to her harness, while the excess rope spilled out beside her in a neat pile. It seemed like the woman and Richard were the main event: even though there were other climbers on the rock wall, most of dozenish non-climbing spectators, all similarly slim and muscular, had congregated at a respectful distance behind the woman speaking to Richard, staring and whispering among themselves and pointing knowingly at the rock features.

Shifting her stance slightly, the woman yelled up to Richard, "Make the move! Lift your legs up! Trust your feet!"

"I can't move! I can't! Take! Please, Harmony! Please take!" Richard pleaded. Even at this distance, Maia could see that his legs were visibly shaking. "Oh, please, by Hanuman and the Infinite Crag, please TAKE!"

"No taking! Fall, if you have to, but no taking," Harmony replied, keeping the rope between them loose, though she did brace her knees and tighten her grip on the rope. "Right foot up! Lift it up by your knee! You have a ledge there!"

"My right foot? I can't get it up that high! I can't!" Richard refused plaintively. "My fingers are hurting! I don't think I can keep this up! I'm slipping! I'm going to fall! Please take!"

"No taking, Richard! Forget your fingers! Focus on your feet! Get your feet up!" Harmony repeated unyieldingly, but with a modicum of encouragement. "You can do it! Push it! Come on! You got it!"

"I'm not sure I can, Harmony! I just don't know..." Richard wailed, his legs still trembling and doing the Elvis-shake.

"Trust the Rope, Richard. Remember, Hanuman and the Rope will hold you," Harmony intoned solemnly, though continuing with a streak of impatience, "Just take the fall! You have to get used to it! Either that or make the move already! Lift your feet up! Come on! You got it!" Harmony's words were echoed by the group of spectators behind her:

"Come on, Richard! Come on!"

"Be one with the rock! Mind over matter, man! Mind over matter!"

"The hold's bomber, man! Don't be a gumby and get your foot on it!"

"Just reach for it! Your monkey index is perfect for the move!"

"Don't back out on it now! You can do it! Solid! Stay solid!"

"It's just a 5.11 and you're doing it as a sport route! You got it!"

"It's the crux, dude! Crank past it it'll flow!"

"You're almost at the anchor! Two clips and you're there!"

"Don't worry about taking the whipper, man! It's a small one. We've all done it!"

"Just dyno past the crux if you can't make the move!"

"Dyno?!? You want me to dyno this move?" Richard said incredulously through his terror, beginning to lash out in his increasing despair. "Are you crazy? This runout is nuts! Why isn't there another bolt here? Fuck! If I fall I'd take a huge fucking whipper! Fucking huge!"

"Richard! Language! No swearing on the Rock!" Harmony chided severely, causing the people around to take a half-step backwards, while Richard said in a pitiful voice:

"I'm sorry, Harmony. I don't know. I just don't know if I can do this..."

"Have faith, Richard. Have faith," Harmony said, to which the spectators responded by nodding gravely. Then, in a soothing, reasonable voice, she tried again to encourage Richard. "You did this on top-rope remember? You cleared it without a problem without any falls or takes. You can do it now. Focus on what you did on top-rope, ok?"

Richard was silent as he collected himself and exhaled a number of long, chugging breaths. After a moment, he announced in a controlled voice, "Ok, I can do this. I can!"

"Yes! Good!" Harmony agreed approvingly.

"Climbing! Watch!" Richard yelled out.

"Watching! Climb on!" Harmony answered, tensing her body and holding the rope tightly with her eyes fixed on Richard's form as he attempted to get past the crux.

Maia shook her head bemusedly, as she wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. She'd never understood the appeal of climbing. Of course, the few times she went she appreciated being surrounded by taught, fit bodies sparsely clad in clinging, revealing athletic wear; but what use was it to look hot and sexy, if you didn't talk and flirt like normal people? Invariably, the climbers she met were exclusively interested in talking about "epic" routes, trading injury stories and scoping out new "lines"--instead of noticing her and her carefully chosen outfits. Did they have any idea how hard it was to find matching tube-tops in the dingy thrift stores she'd been reduced to shop in?

On top of that, the sheer dirtiness of the activity disgusted Maia. She understood the concept of chalk: dabbing their fingers in the little bags of chalk dried them and gave a better grip on holds. She was fine with that. But did they have to use so freaking much of it? When the dab became a drench--and a needlessly perpetual one at that--until the air around the climbsite was so impregnated with chalky dust that it caused her to cough up grossly blackened mucus... Well, that was just flat out unsanitary and after a few attempts Maia saw no more need to be hanging out with the climbing "dirtbags" however hot their bods were. Naturally, Maia's antipathy towards climbing may have something to do with a rather tumultuous romance involving a particularly hygiene-challenged, crag-tunnel-visioned dirtbag who she had done her best to civilize, normalize, and fit into the decent mold of a relationship that's she'd constructed, but to no avail; the memory of his disappearance one morning and with his piles of gear, his weather-worn topos and his precious beat-up travel van nowhere in sight still pissed her off.

In any case, putting festering relationship wounds aside, climbing made no sense to Maia. What was the point of struggling up a steep rock face, risking death and injury--just to come back down again with nothing to show for it? Wouldn't it make more sense to plant a flag on top or something? Maybe a small plaque so people would now the mountain had effectively been conquered? And yet, the complete opposite was true: climbers supposedly did their best to limit their impact on the rock to keep it "natural" and "pure," where some climbing extremists went so far as chop down bolts that had been drilled into the rock for people's protection, insisting that if climbers couldn't make it up the face without defacing it, then they wouldn't go up at all. That just boggled Maia's mind. The bolts were for their protection! And they were taking them out? How utterly stupid was that? Did they want people to die? Did they not realize there was a real risk of accidents like...

"HHHHNNNnnnnnggggh!!!" Richard grunted, jerkily flailing an arm upwards towards what he hoped would be a hold, as his right foot blindly and lifted up and tried to push off a flake. This was the correct move for Richard to make, but in order for it to work, he had to move slowly and steadily; but in his panicky speed and urgency, his foot slipped off the nub of rock... and a rush of freaked out screaming followed: "Oh, shitshitshitshit! Shiiiiiiiit! Fuuuuuck!"

Maia flinched away and involuntarily shut her eyes as Richard fell, but still caught sight of him falling properly with his feet down and plunging twenty feet down before the rope caught at the last bolt he'd clipped in. Meanwhile, Harmony flew up a few feet as she drew in as much slack as she could and caught the fall. Opening her eyes and watching Richard dazed and dangling but still alive, Maia was relieved that he hadn't flipped over backwards and slammed his head straight into the rock face, which would have certainly resulted in his death even if he had helmet on--which Maia noticed to her surprise he wasn't wearing one. In fact, none of the climbers around were wearing helmets.

Again, this was simply nuts. Certainly, Maia hated wearing helmets as much as the next--it messed up her hair and made her look stupid--but avoiding falling rocks and, y'know, death seemed to be worth it. Generally, Maia knew climbers tended to remove their helmets if they were about to make some rock-porn (i.e., climbing vids), but there were no recorders in sight, not even a few unobtrusive netsets or dronecams. So why flout basic common sense and safety? Yet, knowing what she did about her reports on the Salt Spring community--most of which she'd hoped were exaggerations and rumors that she now suspected were true--Maia had a good guess why they weren't wearing helmets, and it magnified her urge to get the hell off the island as soon as possible.

"Good fall, Richard! Do you want to go back up and try again?" Harmony called up to a heavily panting Richard.

"N-no... no, please no," Richard said quickly, shaking his head with some violence.

"Alright, bringing you down," Harmony conceded, loosening her hold on the rope and allowing Richard to come back down to the ground.

"T-that wasn't a small whipper... that wasn't small at all..." Richard muttered, his eyes slightly glazed and unfocused, as his quaking knees collapsed as soon as he hit the ground. He was immediately propped up and supported by a handful of spectators who swarmed in to help him untie the rope from his harness, while cheerfully thumping his back

"It was a wonderful, blessed fall and you're still safe. Remember that and the next will be easier," Harmony smiled. "Praise Hanuman protected you on his Infinite Crag."

"P-praise Hanuman!" Richard repeated weakly.

"Let us pray," Harmony bowed her head and raised her hands into the air--a pose that everyone mimicked, including SriSharma who had been standing away from the crowd. Grudgingly, Maia did the same. "Praise Hanuman who has kept his devotee safe and blessed in the Great Climb to the Heavenly Truth on the Infinite Crag. Blessed be those who follow the path of Hanuman. Praise the Trinity of the Rock, the Rope and the Harness. May the Great Monkey God Hanuman give us the gift of flexibility, hand strength and lightness. Glory to Hanuman. Glory, glory be unto Him!"

"Praise Hanuman! Glory, glory be unto Him! Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore!" the crowd rejoined, their deafening group cry resounding in the small clearing and echoing off the rock wall.

The intention, Maia guessed, was for the prayers to travel up to the Heavens and up the ears to the Monkey God himself. Whatever. Maia had to force herself not to groan out loud at the blatant huckstering of the climbing cult--sorry, intentional spiritual growth community, or 'climbing sanga' as they preferred to call themselves. The briefing reports the Council had given her had mentioned that the island had developed its own brand of religion based on climbing and fused with the Eastern mysticism of the Hindu Monkey God--presumably to lend it legitimacy for its nearly all-Caucasian denomination; nothing like using a foreign culture and poorly understood beliefs to lend a new faith the appropriate mysticism. Protected as they were by their appropriated god Hanuman, they naturally had no need of such silly things as helmets. Yet another dumb cult filled with fanatics, Maia groaned to herself.

But this was not unusual. After the Revolution had ended, a veritable panoply of bizarre religions sprang up dedicated to all kinds of random idealistic things, running the gamut from solar panel worship to straight out animism. Of course, it had never been the intention of the Council to spur growth of a myriad, unconnected religions; but they realized too late that it was a side effect of using figure-head Messiahs of the Revolution to encourage change and uprisings, one of whom had been Maia. Fortunately, most of the new religions, proto-religions really, were entirely harmless, and actually helped bring order to otherwise disastrous situations--and thus were tolerated. Maia, however, had tired of her Messiahdom and no longer had any patience for these wacky cults--and especially not a foolhardy climbing cult that was apparently willing for their devotees to forgo sensible precautions in their search for "enlightenment."

"Uh, ah... Harmony... This is Maia Lam, Messiah of the Revolution #3049," introduced SriSharma in a shaky voice, reaching out with his hand, but not daring to touch Harmony as she pulled the rope out of her belay device and reclipped it to the side of her harness. Though the climbers were nearby, they were mostly milling around Richard, who was still in a daze but bravely smiling. It was at this point that Maia had grabbed SriSharma and pushed him forward to introduce her to Harmony, who she guessed was the Director. "She's here, ah... for, ah... for John, er... John Ellis? From the Council, ah... She's here to... to..."

"To help us with his investigation," Harmony finished for SriSharma, flashing him a comforting grin. Extending her hand to Maia, she said rather pleasantly and with full seriousness, "Welcome Madame Messiah of the Revolution. I am the Director of our small community here on Salt Spring. We are honored and grateful that you have come to help us with the tragedy of John Ellis' death. He was a valued member of our climbing sanga."

"It is my pleasure to be here," Maia said graciously, matching Harmony's tone, surprised at how welcoming and (hopefully) reasonable the Director seemed. "I've had conversations with the Directorate..."

"And how helpful was that?" Harmony asked with a knowing smile.

"Not very," Maia admitted, feeling some relief at Harmony's sympathetic attitude that made it clear she was entirely aware how absurd the Directorate members were. Perhaps, Maia dared to hope, it would be easier working with her and actually getting things done; in many ways, this made sense to her as going to the real boss was the true way to get things done and not through the hand-waving, bluster of endless committees. With the tone of equals, Maia said, "Please call me Maia. I've never been uncomfortable with the 'Messiah' title. I'm just here as a representative of the Council. I was hoping that we can discuss my having access to John Ellis' body and beginning my investigation. As I mentioned to the Directorate, I'm entirely willing to coordinate the efforts and share my resources and results."

"Of course, Maia. I'd be only too happy to," Harmony nodded, taking a wide stance and crossing her arms. "But you have to know, as the Directorate members probably told you, we still have concerns about the authority of the Council on our small community. We worked hard for our independence, and we have no desire to return to a state of being subservient to another distant government." Harmony raised her hand to stop Maia's objections that were obviously bubbling up in response. "Don't get me wrong, Maia. I understand the situation full well and I respect the Council - and to an extent I respect their authority as well. The problem is that our community members are less trusting. The times that followed the Liberation haven't been easy, as you well know, and they're still shaken up by the changes. They're worried, they're fearful and they're insecure. Having the Council swoop in and deal with one their own people simply wouldn't sit well with them." Seeing Maia's irritation rise, Harmony said in a conciliatory tone. "Look, Maia, I trust you and I trust the Council- again, to an extent. If it were up to me, I'd have you start immediately and order Stefan to back off and stand down. But it's not up to me. I have my community members to answer to. I have to give them assurances that their independence won't be affected by your presence and that there is some benefit to having you here and collaborating with the Council."

Maia narrowed her eyes at Harmony's reasoning, but, since she was sending signals that she was willing to negotiate, Maia decided to play along. "What do you propose then?"

"Not much, something to demonstrate the Council's good faith," Harmony smiled widely and with an enthusiasm that almost convinced her was genuine; she guessed that the same well-practiced smile was the same one she used to vote her in as the Director. "At a minimum, we'd of course want to have final say on the report that you would be producing."

"I see. That may be possible," Maia said warily, anticipating the dangers of relinquishing control of her ability to be an independent investigator, but already figuring out ways to get around it; hostile locals with their backsides to cover was something she'd had to deal with before as a Messiah. The main difference was that Harmony seemed to be a more skillful politician than the ones she'd had to work around previously. "Anything else? You mentioned something that would demonstrate the Council's good faith?"

"Ah, yes, of course," Harmony said thoughtfully, looking into the distance, as if trying to think of things she likely had been planning to say all along. "Some donations to our Hanuman temple would certainly go a long way. We've been lacking building materials and so progress has been slow."

"Of course, that can be certainly arranged," Maia agreed easily to the simple request, but the Director continued with:

"Excellent. One more thing: I've heard the power plants in North Vancouver are about to be restarted in two weeks. We want assurances that we would be put on the priority list to have our electricity restored," Harmony said, giving Maia an unwavering stare.

Maia blinked as she registered the implications of what the Director was requesting. Power? She wanted the island's electricity back? Had she any idea how political contentious the issue of getting communities re-electrified has been? Everyone wanted their power back. There was only so much that people could do with their solar cells and kinetic generators, and everyone wanted to return to the days of reliable electricity. Of course, Harmony wanted it too. Scoring that would be a major win for her, and certainly secure her position for years to come.

With growing tension in her face, Maia made the conscious effort to unclench her jaw as she said slowly, "I wasn't aware the North Vancouver power plants were close to being restored. And even if it were true, allotting power to this community is not something that I can approve. I'll have to propose it to the Council..."

"Naturally, naturally! I understand!" Harmony cheerfully waved away. "You've got your steps to take, and I have my own - as you've already experienced." Harmony sighed theatrically and raised her hands helplessly to demonstrate the difficulties that she'd be facing with the Directorate; a familiarity with which Maia now wondered whether had been orchestrated on her behalf. "As they say, you go speak to your people and I'll speak to mine. I'm confident that we'll be able to work something out shortly. Just be aware that you'll want to do as it soon as possible, since our Solstice Celebration is taking place soon, and everyone will be busy with that on top of our regular Communal Devotional duties."

"I see... Alright..." Maia said trying to piece together the information in her head.

"Great! Well, then, if you excuse me, I still have a few more people to belay upon their spiritual journey on the Infinite Crag. I think Alix will be making her first ascent today!" Harmony concluded brightly clapping her hands together; and, without waiting for Maia's reply, she turned around and strode off beckoning a shy redhead to her.

Damn it, Maia thought, trying to keep the irritation at being so casually dismissed off her face. Watching Harmony at a distance as she began tying into a new rope and giving the wide-eyed redhead a pep talk, it was clear that she'd been outmaneuvered. Apparently, she would have to be more careful around this island's Director. Before that though, Maia had to meet with Jamie to give her report to the Council; and, with Harmony's conditions, what she had to say would not be taken well.

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# Chapter 4

Maia reminded herself that she should appreciate being one of the few having a netset connection at all. Like all the Messiahs working for the Council, she had been allocated both a netset and a dedicated bandwidth over the intranet. Everyone else had to content themselves with sharing whatever was left through lethargically slow signals that made realtime conversations impossible, effectively relegating everyone to the stone-age of text and lowres vidstreams. No surprise, few people used the Council's intranet except for quick messages or videos that had been pre-queued or broadcast at dedicated intranet centers. However, for the "lucky, privileged" servants of the Council like Maia, even with a dedicated bandwidth, the reality was that the rickety infrastructure of the intranet meant Maia's connection was still choppy and unreliable, resulting in more than a few incidents like,

"Damn it! Do you hear me, Jamie? Are you there? Ah, fuck! Not again!" Maia cursed as the image of the blond-maned Council member froze, flickered away and the signal was lost again. She'd done her best to find the best line-of-sight location on the damned island, even climbing a few extra feet on a rock cropping and edging as far as she dared on a rotting log; and, yet, this was the fifth time in less than ten minutes and they'd barely had the time to greet each other. It was driving Maia nuts.

But this was good, right? Less virtual connections meant more real-person connections, more authenticity and more meaningful community building. Gone were the days of brain-numbing distractions that masked and perpetuated the injustices of the world. Gone were the foolish, addictive circus games that entertained and provided an escape from the harshness and inevitability of people's miserable lots. The veil was pulled off, eyes were wide open, and the truth was there for everyone to see. This was the new People-based world that the Liberation had fighting for, right? Right. The only problem was that the reality and truth post-Liberation was far more difficult and harsh than anyone expected. Astonishingly, a classless, resource-filled, honey-and-milk-lions-loving-lambs utopia hadn't materialized after the fighting. And so, with the many ensuing struggles and continued deprivations that came with the new society, it wasn't long before people clamored for entertainment and, once the intranet began flickering, vidseries like John's instantly became hits.

However, as Maia attempted to connect again, she thought back to the times of infinite lagless dataspeeds - and had no desire to return to it. More specifically, she had no desire to return to being the person she'd been during those times. Shaking her head, she wondered bitterly how it easy it would have been had she stayed the ignorant estate brat that she'd been; but after having been dragged through the Liberation there was no going back. She'd seen the true cost and suffering that her former wealth had caused, and, knowing that, couldn't go back to the way things were - however longingly she may recall the comforts and convenience of that time.

More importantly, she had an important role to play in the Liberation, as well as many responsibilities: she was a freaking Messiah. Then again, being the Messiah hadn't been something that she'd wanted, but was rather something that had been forced on her--and, she had to admit, she ended up accepting, as the "vital importance" (as the Council put it) of the position had flattered her ego and presented some perks, like her own apartment and extra food tokens. So fine, Maia had made her peace with being the damned Messiah... but couldn't they at least guarantee a damned reliable connection? At least make the connection totally crappy or totally good, not this infuriating unpredictable in-between nonsense.

"Jamie? Jamie? Are you there? Can you hear me? I can see you but I can't hear you," Maia struggled, as her netset came back to life, projecting Jamie's image into her retina, but without any sound - which probably wasn't such a terrible thing. Nevertheless, Maia subvocalized a few settings commands, fiddling with resolution controls until they were the lowest she could tolerate, until finally Jamie's tinny voice returned with:

"...now? Do you hear me now? Is that better?"

"Yes, I hear you now," Maia answered, initiating the passcode handshake protocol to ensure their conversation would remain private and unmonitored - and crossing her fingers that this time it would go through. It was amazing to Maia how she thought back to the days when the netset basically never left her, always elegantly and innocuously hanging from her ear, as if it had been a new appendage the human species had sprouted, constantly feeding her updates and giving her the option to offer up pithy replies. Now, with the crappy connection, it was obvious how useless it was -

not unlike a luxury sedan driving up a horse-buggy trail. She'd offered to have only an audio connection so as to avoid the risk of being disconnected (again), but Jamie had insisted on having the visual, explaining that this way it felt more "real", even though it was merely the netset's extrapolation of her facial reference points. The real reason for the visual connection wasn't hard for Maia to guess: Jamie would be able to feed her responses through a credibility algorithm to make sure she was telling the truth. "Are you getting this? It looks like the passcodes completed. Are you ready?"

"Yes... hear you... can still not..." Jamie stuttered as the resolution came together, and her image resolved. Her dirty blond hair was tied back tightly and severely, while thin lines lined the edges of her unsmiling mouth and eyes. Though they were the same age, Maia was pleased to note that Jamie looked at least a decade older than her twenty-five years; part of it had to do with Maia's anti-aging Asian genes of course, but the other part had likely to do with Jamie's high stress position in the Council that Maia knew she had fought very hard for. "Ok, the connection's good now. And to think that this is the best that our techs can do with our intranet. Piece of shit is what it is. What's going on? Give me an update. Did you examine John's body yet?"

Maia suppressed a smirk listening to Jamie's directness and her I'm-a-big-deal posturing. Having grown up with her and even seen her repeatedly make a fool of herself as pseudo-revolutionary before she finally succeeded in reaching the top echelons, it was difficult for Maia to take her seriously. Jamie, however, was technically her boss and was also signing her paychecks, so Maia said with the minimum of deference she was willing to spare, "No, not yet. The local Directorate is not being cooperative."

Sighing and rolling her eyes, Jamie was obviously unsurprised as she very well knew the oft publicly repeated wonderful working relationships between the Council and local governments was a sham. "So what else is new? What's their problem?"

"A combination of things," Maia replied neutrally, trying to figure out the worst way to frame the situation so as she could legitimately request being transferred off the case. "First off, the Directorate is taking issue with the Council's authority on the matter. They're claiming that John's death is an internal issue, which means that they're not letting me access the site."

"Oh, how original," Jamie shook her head contemptuously. "Another meaningless token government drunk on their own power in their tiny fiefdom and now they're trying to piss around their territory. Don't they know how ridiculously huge John's death has become? And how insane the rumors have become? Conspiracy stories on top of it all, for crying out loud. There've even been claims that the corporate estate owners are coming back in force and that John's death is the first step in their masterplan. We should be thankful the intranet is as crappy as it is, otherwise it would have blown up with freak-outs. John's death has got to be resolved and dealt with."

"Yeah, I did have the impression that they're wanting to get on with the investigation too, and a few on the Directorate seemed open to using our resources," Maia conceded.

"Even more original."

"But then I spoke to the Director," Maia continued, studying Jamie carefully. "And it seems like she's the one we should be negotiating with. She's made a few requests."

"Oh, yeah? What does she want?" Jamie sucked in her breath warily.

"She wants the island to be connected to the power plant," Maia said, adding, "She mentioned that she knew the power plant in North Vancouver was going to be connected in a two weeks. Is that even true? I didn't know that we even salvaged the working parts for it. Are we finally going to be getting reliable electricity again?"

Jamie's eyes bulged a little and then narrowed in irritation as she replied, "How did she know... Damn it, another leak to worry about. Well, it wouldn't be the first. Screw that nosy woman. Yes, it's true. The power plant is being restarted. But no way she's getting any power coming from it. No fucking way. Most of the power lines across the Straight had been cut and we haven't even the resources to repair those, let alone focus on her rinky-dink island community. Does she really think I'd prioritize her island over Vancouver? She must be insane." Jamie's face blurred briefly as she face-palmed herself and massaged her temples. "Fine. Whatever. Tell her yes. Tell her we'll connect her island as soon as the tests for the Vancouver system have been completed. Tell her we'll put her top on the list."

"You want me to lie?" Maia asked levelly, not really having a problem with the lie itself, but curious to know how far she was expected to take the negotiations.

"Hardly. A half-truth," Jamie dismissed with snort. "We're not planning on electrifying anything else besides Vancouver, so in theory she could very well be the next on the list to be electrified. What else does she want?"

"Well, that's where it gets interesting," Maia said, bracing herself for Jamie's reaction. "She wants final say on my report on John."

Interestingly, and somewhat to Maia's disappointment, Jamie did little more than clench her teeth and softly say in a choked voice, "No chance in hell. That report stays under the control of the Council. I'm not going to have my brother's death be used by some country-bumpkin for her own advancement. No way."

But you'd be fine with controlling the report to protect your own position on the Council, as well as the direction of the public narrative, Maia wanted to point out, but instead said, "So what should I tell them then? I imagine she knows he's your brother and she's trying to get something out of it."

"Of course, she knows!" Jamie spat. "Who the hell doesn't know? This why we have to retain control of the report! It has to be neutral. It has to have legitimacy. Do you know how many strings I pulled to get you on the case? Just so that the report can have a Messiah sign off on it? There's no way anyone's going to ruin this for me!"

Oh, damn it. This meant that it would be pretty much impossible for her to wriggle out of the case, Maia realized. However, it wasn't as if Maia's background was unimpeachable or that her history was unquestionable. She couldn't blame Jamie's logic though. She needed the credibility that the position of the Messiah brought, and she probably also chose Maia because she thought she could control her - which irked Maia greatly, but at this point she had to play along with it.

In no mood to console Jamie in any way, and wanting instead to figure out what to do, Maia tried to reason with her, "Alright, fine. Then we can do what we did with the power plant. We say we want to work together, but then we just change the report in the end. The only problem is that if she wants the authority to get in the system as an official investigator then I'll have no choice but to give it to her. I guess we could come up with a mock-up of the portal, but that may be easy to spot. That could work. I know a guy who..."

"No, damn it no," Jamie cursed, looking skywards for help, despite being the atheist Maia knew she was; not unlike herself or anyone else who had any position of power on the Council. "We can't risk it. If she found out about the power plant starting up, she'll know about a fake reporting scheme too. If it comes out that the Council lied to her, it would be much much worse. No, we have to do this the hard way. You'll have to negotiate the report with her."

"What? Me?" Maia spluttered. This was far from being part of job description. Indeed, the Council had written specific stipulations that Messiahs not be involved in politics, so as to retain their impartial mystique - and what Jamie was suggesting was undoubtedly going to be a high level of politicking. And, besides being technically illegal for her to being involved, it was going to be a mighty big pain in the ass. "You know I can't do that. If Messiah's aren't impartial then people won't trust..."

"Oh, come on," Jamie snarled, instantly seeing through Maia's attempt to hide behind regulations that neither of them really followed to the letter. "Don't give that line. I need you to do this for me. Do I need to remind you where I found you before you were appointed into the Messiah system? I brought you in and I can rule you out just as easily."

Maia stiffened and curled her lips. It was true that Maia had been working as a shift nurse when Jamie had found her; and it was also true that Maia had leapt at the opportunity to become a Messiah (re-become one, as it were), as working as a nurse was damned hard, uncomfortable and unpleasant - all of which she felt guilty for feeling, as she knew she should be feeling satisfaction and joy at being useful and directly helping people - not exhausted, drained and constantly wondering what she was doing. After she'd taken the Messiah position, Maia had told herself that she'd go back to being a nurse and give working a try again; but, dammit, the apartment the Council set her up in was comfortable and, while somewhat sparse, it was hers, not to mention that the job itself was generally fairly easy and cushy.

However, Maia would not be bullied. She would not be threatened. She owed Jamie nothing. Sort of. Sitting up straight and firming her jaw, Maia faced Jamie's threats, "Whatever, Jamie. Fine. Go ahead. Fire me. I don't care. I'm not doing this."

"Ah, shit, Maia!" Jamie sighed exasperatedly, revealing that she'd been bluffing about taking away her Messiahdom. "Ok. Look I'm sorry. I didn't mean to threaten you. If not for me, then do it for my brother John, ok? I want to see his memory at peace and rest..." But then seeing Maia's brow raise at her hollow emoting, Jamie changed tacks. "Ok, fine. I don't care about John's memory and I was never a fan of his either. And yes, I know you know that we haven't been the greatest siblings since the Liberation and I couldn't give a shit what that little twerp was doing so long as it was away from me. Fine!" Jamie took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. "Maia. Listen to me. I'll level with you, but you have to swear not to tell anyone. Are you certain you're in a secure location?"

Maia frowned at the complex sequence of emotions that had been displayed, not knowing what to believe. Looking around her and making sure that the location she'd selected was isolated, Maia replied suspiciously, "Yes?"

"Good. Reply subvocally from now on too," Jamie ordered, donning a somber, serious expression that Maia thought was overkill. "John's death is a big problem for the Council. A fucking huge goddamned problem. Funny how he can still cause drama even when he's a corpse. People are asking questions about it, for sure, and that's to be expected, but they're also doubting the Council. Those conspiracy theories I mentioned? Yeah, it's more than that. There are people organizing to overthrow us, and we've had to shut them down."

"Shut them down? You mean like imprison? The Council does that? I thought we don't do that? Wouldn't they be considered to have free speech? Not to mention due process? I haven't heard of any of this," Maia frowned, reeling back slightly. While Maia was well-acquainted with the fact that the Liberation didn't happen using the most idealistic and cleanest of methods, she at least thought that the Council wouldn't be adopting the same techniques of the former corporate estate regime. "And, how did you find out about anyway? I thought we aren't supposed to be monitoring people - or that we don't even have the capacity for it. That's what I've been told anyway... or is that a lie too?"

"Maia, please. This will be a lot easier if you cut the naivete," Jamie snarled irritably. "Of course, we monitor the intranet activity. Of course, we have the capacity for it. And of course we intervene when we have to and we keep it very very quiet because we know how dangerous it can be if word got out." Sighing deeply again, Jamie said, "The Liberation isn't going well, Maia. Many of the gains we made are being threatened, if not on the verge of being reversed. The corporate estates are still mounting attacks on us every week, and we're barely maintaining the line of control. And before you ask, yes, the cease-fire and demilitarization zone is a total joke. Every few months it moves because they attack when they see an opportunity... or we do. Why do you think you haven't seen Jean-Francois or Olivia for the last year? They've been on the front, organizing the fight down there and trying to keep the communities that have risen up against the corporate estates from collapsing - because they do, Maia," Jamie shrugged and chuckled a cold, tired laugh. "We've claimed that the whole continent rose up for freedom - and they did - but many were taken down pretty quickly and subjugated again. That's not to say the Liberation didn't work; we've taken back the entire eastern and western coasts and pushed the corporates and the estates back to the interior. However, we're not doing that great either. None of the other countries will trade with us since we're not considered 'legitimate' and so whatever we're able to produce, we can't get income from. That's assuming we've been producing anything of value, which we're categorically not. Without basic supplies, our industries have collapsed and we're just barely squeaking by and replenishing what we use up. So far, we've managed to tough it out. Be grateful our side of the world has been lucky enough that we've kept what we have. Luckily the corporate estates are as resource limited as we are, otherwise this grand Liberation wouldn't have lasted nearly as long."

For a moment, Maia had no words to retort. Jamie's initial dismissiveness had of course provoked her defensiveness, but it had become progressively more subdued as Jamie painted a grim picture of the Liberation. Everyone knew times were difficult: strict food rationing were in effect, and had been for three years now, despite constantly publicized improvements in urban farm plots, aquaponic complexes and permaculture gardens; meanwhile, no one could remember the last time the water flowed from the taps, as the corporates had bombed the water purification facilities during their exit. But, equally, everyone knew they were in the struggle together, getting used to the deprivations and banding closer together because of it.

At least, that's what the intranet media told everyone - as well as a perpetual slew of uplifting, promising stories of obviously snail-paced progress that were hyped to mammoth-like proportions. As much as anyone, Maia knew that the tolerance of the hard times couldn't last forever; she was pretty sure that something snapped in her when she dropped the last bottle of conditioner that she'd been saving and was forced to salvage a scant few tablespoons of it off the floor as if it were ambrosia. However, she had thought that others were more resilient than she, judging by the brave cheerful faces that she saw - that turned out to be reflecting back the same expression she forced herself to give to others every day.

"How bad is it, Jamie?" Maia asked.

"Pretty bad, Maia. Pretty fucking bad," Jamie replied. "Our food supply is not improving. We've had start using GMO seeds in the fields..."

"WHAT? I've been eating GMOs? What the hell?" Maia blurted, outraged at the revelation. The Council had long promised that they would never use unnatural seeds again that were themselves signs of oppression and outside control and intellectual profiteering and anti-collectivism and etc... etc... etc...

"Damn it, Maia! Will you stop being so clueless? Of course we did!" Jamie grumbled angrily. "Nothing else would goddamned grow in the fields. Climate change, Maia. Do you understand the concept? The old seeds can't grow anymore, and certainly not in the conditions that we have. We need to feed the people, and GMOs are our best bet."

"But what about the antigens, the unknown proteins..." Maia said.

Jamie rolled her eyes mightily, "We've done our tests and looked at the research. They're safe, Maia. The seeds we're using have been used for the last twenty years and the technology is even older than that. We've both had them, unknowingly, our whole lives. Just chill the fuck out about it. It's a minor issue compared to what's at hand here, ok? I need your help with John's case, Maia. It needs to be settled or else we're facing a potential collapse of the Liberation. If that happens, we might as well just beg the corporate estate owners to come back and change everything back to the way it was. Don't forget too that both our parents haven't given up on their claims. I've sent you the same reports that they're still trying to get their property back. I'm sure that having our parents back here is the last thing either of us want."

Maia's momentary righteous anger quelled back down, as she heard Jamie's warnings. Things had to be very bad indeed if the Council had compromised on using GMOs. Certainly, having their parents return would not be a pretty outcome for either of them. In a sullen voice, Maia said, "Fine, I'll do what you ask, but I want to know what's GMO and what's not from now on," Maia said sullenly.

"Ok, ok. Whatever. I'll send you a list, but you'll end up eating nothing more than salad and grass," Jamie dismissed. "Just start figuring out what happened to John so we can get it over with."

Maia frowned again as she started thinking about the worst case scenarios. Giving voice to the worst of them, she had to see if Jamie thought the same, "You don't seriously think that John's death was anything other than accidental do you?" To Maia's relief, Jamie laughed.

"Are you thinking John might have been killed?" Jamie sneered. "Come on, Maia. This is John we're talking about here. He's annoying as hell, but he's harmless. Not only that he's my brother and people would have known his connection to me and the Council."

"So. Accident then?" Maia said tentatively. "Is that what I'm supposed to find?"

Jamie grimaced. "You're supposed to find out what happened to him - which had better be something stupid like him overdosing on pine needles or him dehydrating from too much suntaning. Something like that."

"And that's the game you want me to play?" Maia asked irritably, again regretting having taken the damned job. "You want me to come up with something that's safe for the Council like that? How am I supposed to do that?"

"I don't know!" Jamie huffed. "Work with the Salt Springers. Have conversations with them and become friends with them so you can fit in."

"Fit in? Now you want me to fit in with these crazies?" Maia muttered angrily. "Do you know they climb three pitch-routes without even using helmets because they think some divine monkey god will help them?"

"Just get it done!" Jamie said, launching her hands in the air. "In the meantime, I'll get in touch with the Director. Harmony Valentina. What a ridiculous name. Do they all fucking give themselves names like that?"

"Something to do with their climbing cult. I've met a few so far," Maia said grumpily. "I still don't know how I'm supposed to 'fit in.' It's not like I can just..."

"They're a climbing cult, right?" Jamie shot back impatiently. "I know they have their own weird religious services. What is it you were saying? Some monkey god thing?

"Hanuman. That's their god," Maia offered. "It's part of their Communal Devotional and they have a Solstice Celebration the day after too."

"Then go to those!" Jamie pointed out.

"Ok, ok... I'll do it," Maia agreed still not convinced nor thrilled at the idea.

"Good! Contact me in two days to give me a progress report."

And with that, the connection ended and Maia was left staring into the open sea. Fit in? How completely insane and disgusting. She had no desire to do waste her time with the Salt Springers' weird superstitions. Curse it all. Why couldn't the Liberation be easier? Why couldn't they have had everything prepared for an easy transition instead of having a messy revolution?

Maia swore to herself as strode back up to the climbing community, thinking rather irritably about how she was going to fit the fuck in.

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# Chapter 5

Having spent most of her pre-Liberation years consciously trying to set the trends rather than following them, it especially grated on Maia to have to ape the people around her, mimicking their beatific, friendly expressions as they waited for their food to be served. Damn it, Maia grumbled curmudgeonly to herself. Why did the folk at these bloody spiritual communities have to always be so good humored and chipper? It was unnatural.

Along with what had to be most of the few-hundred-odd members of the climbing community, she was standing outside in the community's main plaza - which was actually an old, cracked and weed speckled asphalt parking lot, around which a sprawl of yurts, campers and trailers had assembled and dug in permanently. Everyone was standing in a circle around a series of tables on which large bowls of steaming food had been placed, ready to do be devoured.

But in spite of the food being ready, Maia noted no one was eating, not even looking or poking at the food, but just patiently waiting in a circle; and if there was one thing Maia hated more than standing or sitting in circles it was... Oh, damn it, right on cue. It just had to be the case. People began reaching for their neighbor's hands and Maia grudgingly accepted two callused hands, until everyone was holding hands around the circle. Maia detested hand holding; it brought memories of kindergartens and screaming infants rather than the feelings of communion that she imagined it was supposed to convey.

Harmony, who had just arrived and whom everyone had apparently been waiting for, began in a loud voice,

"Welcome everyone! Has everyone had a good day of climbing-sadhana? Is everyone looking forward to our Solstice Celebration festivities?" An enthusiastic cheer answered Harmony's approving gaze. "Is everyone ready for the delicious dinner our wonderful cooks have prepared for us?" More enthusiastic cheering to which Maia and her stomach eagerly added her own impatient cheer. "Then let us pray."

And, all at once, everyone closed their eyes--leaving Maia with the unsettling impression of being abandoned and with no choice but to lid her eyes as well; though she did so only half-way to keep an eye on what everyone else was doing. In one voice, the crowd intoned:

"O, may Hanuman the mighty Monkey God praise us,

May he bless with us with long limbs and strong grips,

May we learn from Saints Sharma, Ojida, Twight, Forte,

Whom we have seen redpointing upon the Infinite Crag.

Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore!

May our freeclimbs be smooth and fearless.

May we hang long and our fingers stay strong.

May our chalk bags ever be full and plentiful.

Praise the food that gives strength, energy and protein!

Praise our cooks and the farmers who prepare and grow our food!

Bless those who follow Hanuman and the bliss that follows the heights of the Infinite Crag!

Glory to Hanuman! Glory to the Infinite Crag!

Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore!"

At the end, with a big hurray, Maia felt her hands lift into the air, as everyone raised their hands in unison. Opening her eyes completely and meeting her neighbor's friendly looks, she mustered a smirking grin and followed everyone into the long cue that was forming at the dinner tables. With her strong sense of privacy and overdeveloped boundaries, Maia was unwilling to engage in this high degree of communality, but she nevertheless suppressed her natural inclination to turn around and wait for everyone to be done, suffering instead through the gentle, stifling atmosphere of warmth and acceptance. This was her "fitting in," Maia wanted to scream at Jamie. Food, however, was beckoning, and Maia consoled herself that she was soon going to be fed. As her knotting stomach attested, the fragrant, spicy odors were reminding her that she was hungrier than she realized, and possibly a little grumpy because of it.

As she neared the tables and grabbed a plate and bowl, the sheer quantity and variety of the food surprised her. Due to food rationing, most Liberation communities were lucky to have anything more than a few potatoes, possibly a stale loaf of freezer-rescued bread, and some semblance of a reconstituted emergency veggie-paste or meat-substitute. But before her, in very sharp contrast, a veritable feast was on the table, from pots of colorful vegetable-laden soup, to mounding bowls brown rice, to more pots filled with some kind of thick, beany, tomatoey stew, and finally, incredibly, a massive bowl brimming with salad greens that were rapidly being picked out and depleted.

Maia was amazed. She couldn't remember the last time she had the funds for a nice bowl of lettuce (the damned stuff went for 5 food tokens a head at market and triple that on the black market) - and there it was, a whole freaking bowl of the stuff, free for the taking. Barely hanging onto her lady-like dignity, Maia filled her plate and bowl with as much as she thought could be acceptable without being rude. She had to hand it to these climbing cultists: living in community probably helped them pool resources more effectively to get more satisfying meals, not to mention provide the labor for the upkeep of the place and what she imagined had to be a large vegetable garden somewhere.

Looking around for a table or chair to sit and eat in, Maia saw that none were available, and everyone was sitting on the ground in haphazard mini-circles. Of course they were sitting on the ground, she muttered internally; they probably thought they were closer to Hanuman that way or something. Not having the patience to find something to sit on, Maia found a small shaded area beneath a thick pine tree, and plopped down, immediately shoving forkfuls of stew-covered rice into her mouth, leaving of course the salad in a neat pile to side to be savored last.

Once again, she was amazed. The stew was mad party of delicious flavors in her mouth. Maia told herself that the deliciousness of the food was very likely due to her hunger, but this wouldn't explain the hints of spices that she'd long forgotten the flavor of. Cumin? Could it be really be cumin that magic spice that makes everything nice? And cinnamon? And cloves? They were undoubtedly the powdered form the spices, but the very fact that they had it was astonishing; the Liberation had naturally shut off outside trade, so previously common-place spices had become rare luxuries. The climbing community must have had an extra stash of it somewhere, and Maia guessed that they had probably raided the supplies of the fancy hotels that had been abandoned on the island.

Maia was lost in the enjoyment of figuring out and reacquainting herself with the different flavors of her meal and sad (but not really) to be moving on to her salad, when a woman's voice asked with a casual assuredness that made the question effectively rhetorical.

"Hello, Maia. May we join you?" Before Maia could swallow her bite and reply, Harmony and Mark both with their own plates of food sat down with comfortable ease and flexibility. Though her tight athletic wear still had chalk marks on them, Harmony appeared to still have cleaned up and straightened her hair, making evident the clear, darkened healthy tan that everyone in the community shared. Similarly, Mark also seemed prim and proper and clean, and nodded politely to Maia before carefully picking up forkfuls of food and deliberately bringing it to his mouth; Maia doubted that he was ever anything but prim and proper and clean, even when he dirty.

"This food is great!" Maia said enthusiastically; in keeping with her aim to fit in, she'd made a list of positive things to say the community members, but she didn't need to make much effort to endorse the greatness of the food.

"It is. We're very proud of it," Harmony smiled, as she ate mechanically and efficiently, never letting her eyes off Maia. "As climbers, we need high-nutrient and high-energy sustenance so we invested a lot of time getting it for our community. We're lucky also to have an excellent arrangement with the locals farmers: we have the expertise to provide the seed, and they grow it all. That's how we get much of our fresh vegetables, especially the salad you're having right now."

"Yes! Oh, man! The salad is great!" Maia agreed, happily munching on the crispness of the greens that she hadn't been able to have for months. "Soooo good! You have no idea how long it's been. The season's been bad in Vancouver, with the heat apparently causing the plants to 'bolt' whatever that means. I don't know if they're going somewhere or something or escaping. Anyway. I don't know anything about farming. And I haven't had lettuce that tastes like this either! All these different textures and flavors! This one is so red and..."

"Uh, that's not lettuce, Maia," Mark raised a hand to stop her, but Maia was too quick in shoving the unusual vegetable in her mouth, leading to her rapid reaction,

"Whoa! Spicy! Holy shit! Spicy!" Maia exclaimed, as her mouth filled with heat that traveled to her nose, setting off a coughing fit, and forcing her wash down the heat with her soup. Her eyes watering and nose filling with gunk, she was grateful when Mark handed her his handkerchief. "That was crazy! That was good! What was that? Do I have more of it?"

"They're mustard greens," Harmony continued to smile the same smile as before, not having made a motion during Maia's fit. "Spicy aren't they? Apparently they're good for vitamin A."

"Whatever they are they're fantastic! It really gives this salad a kick!" Maia said, blowing her nose, as the heat finally subsided for her. "What variety are they? Maybe I can bring some seeds back for the urban farms on the mainland. The people would love it and if it can grow in this heat then..."

"Not sure what the variety is. You'd have to ask our farm liaison who compiles the planting records. She'd know which variety seems to suit this climate," Harmony cut in abruptly with her explanation. "As for seeds, that's something we can certainly discuss... Maybe something that we can provide when we get the electricity that Council-member Jamie Ellis has promised us."

Ah. To business then, Maia thought as she shifted mental gears, and strategized in her head on how to deal with Harmony. She obviously appreciated directness, so Maia said, "I see you've spoken to Jamie already. That was quick."

"Yes, it was," Harmony nodded thoughtfully. "My netset doesn't often get activated with a priority call, and even less so with a hyperband Council link. Jamie Ellis was determined to speak to me."

"She can be that way," Maia spread her hands apologetically, slightly surprised at how quickly Jamie had moved, but if things were as bad she claimed they were, she had good reason to establish an arrangement sooner than later. "And did you reach an agreement?"

"A probational one, yes. Jamie drives a hard bargain, but in the end we agreed," Harmony said, crossing her arms and leaning forward. "We'll work together on John's investigation. As a Messiah, you may lead it." (Oh, thank you, Maia said to herself, rolling her eyes internally.) "But, I'll personally work with you to establish the final language of the report. We're very aware of how much impact John's death has, so we too want to make sure that it turns out well, since he was a member of our climbing sanga. In the meantime, as a sign of goodwill, Jamie is sending us an aid shipment to resupply our medications and equipment." Harmony paused to look carefully again at Maia. "She promised power to us, as I requested, but I know very well that it... could take a while. That's fine. I'm willing to work with that. However, one thing you should know is that we'll both have administrator privileges on the report template, but I'll have the final editing permissions to see if it can go out or not."

"I see," Maia said slowly, furrowing her brows. It was everything that she expected, but the last condition about the editing permissions was new and potentially a major irritant, as it effectively gave Harmony all the power, while Maia essentially did the leg work. "And Jamie has agreed to this? You know that I'll be needing to confirm with her. And what about Stefan? Will I get protection from him?"

"Of course, of course. There will be the necessary steps to get the process to happen. We must respect the Council's procedures," Harmony said seriously without any evidence of sarcasm. "Don't worry about Stefan. He's full of bluster and anger, but he's a gentle soul. As much as it seems like we're angry at each other, we're actually just one big family. Don't worry about that." Suddenly standing up, and smoothing the front of her clothes, Harmony ended the audience with, "I have an evening crag-puja to lead to tonight with the climbing sanga. It'll be a big one to help us get ready for the Solstice Celebrations - which of course I do hope you will be able to attend. Meanwhile, Mark will arrange the details with you."

With a faint puff of chalk, Maia watched Harmony stalk away in long strides like an automaton, albeit a ritual-obsessed one who was very tanned and athletic. Left with Mark, Maia looked over to the person who would presumably give her the details, and who was still eating at a leisurely pace, comparatively light-years slower than Harmony. Maia was still not sure what to make of the Director. True, she did like her directness, so refreshing after having worked with wishy-washy, impractical hippies who never got anything done. But, while she could respect the focused Director, the challenge would be to figure out how to work with her without getting used as one of her pawns, or having to resort to strong-arming of her own.

Shaking her head, Maia muttered, "Charming isn't she?"

With a faint smile, Mark said after swallowing and dabbing his mouth, "My wife gave her the nickname 'The Buster.' In polite company, she'll say it's because she busts down doors and makes things happen."

"Oh? And what does she say in less polite company?" Maia asked.

"Well, good question," Mark said, leaning forward and lowering his voice and looking around slyly to see if anyone was within earshot. "You know that as climbers we have strong grips, right?" Mark opened his callused hands and presented them to Maia. "Harmony's grip is especially strong, and she's known for holding onto the smallest pinchers. In fact... her grip is so strong that my wife usually adds the word 'Ball' to her nickname."

Maia chuckled and smirked, as she tried to shake the image forming in her head, while making a note from Mark's irreverence that there may be divisions in the community that she might be able use. On the other hand, it was also possible that the community was incredibly tight-knit and Mark was just messing with her at his Director's request. Having interacted with Harmony a few times, Maia wouldn't put that level of deviousness past her.

"Right. Thanks. Now I'll think of that whenever I talk to her."

"You're welcome," Mark said as he tipped and twirled an imaginary hat to her.

"Alright, Mr. Details Man," Maia announced leaning back on her elbows. "When do I get to see John's corpse? And is Stefan really going to stay away from the site? Or will I have to break out my taser?"

"Tomorrow, of course. You can see John's corpse tomorrow. Actually, you can see it now if you like, but the sun's setting and we don't have enough headlamps to go around and hike you up there safely," Mark replied easily. "Don't worry about Stefan. It's easy for us to make arrangements with him. He needs us a lot more than he would like to let on, and we're able to keep him and his followers at bay."

"Okaay..." Maia said cautiously, and then added as a thought occurred to her, "Where is he anyway? I saw RajTwight and MahaLindy tonight, but not Stefan. Is he not part of the community? And what's the deal about him being a 'doctor'? Is he lying? What's the deal with that?"

"Who knows where Stefan is? Stefan does what Stefan does," Mark shrugged. "He's probably sucking on a dead pheasant's severed neck right now or something similar for dinner. And yes, he's a doctor. Dr. Stefan Montview. He has a doctoral degree in ecology."

Maia lifted an incredulous eyebrow, not believing Mark's claims, but a slew of other questions began spilling "And what's the deal with RajTwight? Does he have some kind of grievance with Stefan? And how long has this been going on? And how does MahaLindy fit into this? Is she..."

"Hahahaha... so many questions," Mark laughed putting out his hands to slow her down. "It's getting late, and I've got duties to do too, as you can see, those of us who aren't going to the crag-puja are getting this place settled in for the evening. There's a lot to do in this community to keep the sanga running smoothly."

Sure enough, Maia just noticed that as they had been talking, the courtyard had progressively emptied and there were only a handful of people left still having dinner. Many had disappeared, but some were still visible, cleaning dishes, sweeping the area, or adjusting the tarps on the huts and yurts for the evening. Maia then realized that she didn't have somewhere to sleep, as she hadn't expected her visit to take as long as it did. She'd naively thought she could have been sleeping in her own bed tonight in Vancouver.

As if reading her mind, Mark said, "We've of course arranged a place for you to sleep. You'll be taking John's camper."

"Uh... John's camper?" Maia hesitated. She's wasn't exactly squeamish, but sleeping in a dead man's space wasn't thrilling her. "Isn't there somewhere else I can stay? A tent or something I can borrow?"

"Hmmm... if you had your own tent, you could always pitch it anywhere, of course," Mark said thoughtfully, but continued in an apologetic voice. "I'm terribly sorry, but we just don't have other spaces or another tent. As it is everywhere else in the Liberation, space and resources are always an issue with us here. Never enough housing or tents to go around."

"Are you sure? I mean surely..." Maia tried not to beg.

"Don't worry, it's clean. John always kept it meticulously clean, and we haven't touched a thing since his death," Mark comforted, apparently not seeing the problem that Maia was having. "We thought it would be a perfect set up, since this way you can peruse any evidence in his camper at the same time."

"Perfect, right..." Maia repeated, unconvinced.

"Good! Well, in that case, I'll have Rene show you to John's camper. It's a little ways off, and he knows how best to get there," Mark smiled. Yelling now to a smocked and hairnetted man who was cleaning the tables with another similarly attired woman, Mark called out, "Rene! Come here! Let me introduce you to someone!"

"Ok!" And, all of a sudden, the man appeared, removing his smock and hairnet, and revealing a man in his late twenties with dark brown hair, expressive laughing eyes, and friendly smile. Not unlike the other climbers in the community, Rene also had a rather finely cut build, not too bulky, not too thin - and from the stirrings going on in Maia - she could also say he was a decisively above-average good-looking guy.

"Rene, this is the Messiah of the Revolution, Maia Lam. She's here to help with investigating John's death. I'd like you to take her to John's camper," Mark said as soon as Rene arrived. "Well, Maia, I'll leave you in Rene's capable hands."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame Messiah Maia. We've heard a lot about you," Rene said with a slight bow.

"Please call me Maia," Maia laughed uncomfortably, noticing then that, as Mark walked away, the community plaza had been nearly cleared of people, leaving her with this Rene fellow alone. "And your name is Ren-e? Or is it Ren-ay?"

"You can call me Ren-ay. Only my ex-wife and my mom calls me Rene. My mom named me after her dad," Rene said by way of explanation, flashing her a playful grin.

"Oh, I see. Ren-ay then," Maia smiled in spite of herself, momentarily forgetting what she was about to say.

"Shall I take you to John's camper then? It's a bit of a hike to John's camper."

"Right! Of course! And you have a light?"

"Just the one, but it'll be enough for the two of us if we stay close."

"Sure, alright. You're sure you can get us there?"

"Of course! Or we'll just fall over a cliff and die."

"What?!"

"Kidding. The path is fine. Here, just hold my arm here and you'll be safe."

"Ah. Okay..."

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# Chapter 6

As if sleeping in a dead man's home wasn't enough to keep her awake, the distracting (read: flirtatious) time walking up to John's camper with the rather charming Rene also contributed to many thoughts that kept Maia awake. Much to her surprise, he was unlike the typical climber obsessed with name-dropping the epic climbs they had done and inferring through their many injuries how tough and 'core' they were (true, her main (read: sole) representative of climbers was her ex, so it wasn't terribly hard for Rene to shine and leave her with very many exciting thoughts that made her feel warm and giddy). Not even her netset's sleep-aid noise-modulators, nor thinking back to the drone of Council meetings were effective in settling Maia's mind and helping her fall asleep. With a resigned sigh, she threw off the stifling thermawear covers, rolled out of John's bed, and lit John's old LED lamp she'd left sitting on the floor. If she couldn't sleep, she may as well get some work done.

A sickly bluish glow shed light on the camper's insides that was once John's private space. However, it was grossly inaccurate to call John's home a "camper," as it implied some similarity to the patchwork mobile-homes that refused to collapse from the myriad of tacked-on repairs that included splotches of fraying tarp, globs of brittle silicone, and tapestries of faded decals that constantly extended the mobile-homes' existences. It was against all those odds that those mobile homes - which gave crapshacks a bad name - continued to give shelter to legions of nomads scraping their lives together off the remains of a previously universally motorized culture. Most were no longer mobile in any way. These days, if they hadn't been broken down or towed into lots to make makeshift neighborhoods - such as with the climbing community - the campers that remained and were in relatively good shape were heavily modified with gigantic solar panels that threatened to crush them, but more frequently with old diesel engines that smoked ghastly, smelly smoke.

While there was no doubting that John's camper was nothing like the typical glorified mold-cans that passed for homes, there was evidence that John had taken pains to make his camper seem older and more decrepit than it actually was. The lopsided shingles on the roof, the bent and broken aluminum siding, and the dirty window panes and torn screens all contributed to the fiction of poverty that hid what was really within: a fully self-sustaining and interconnected tiny-home. While other campers, not to mention the entire post-Liberation community, had to struggle for power and water, both were easily provided aplenty by the camper's embedded systems that included its very own intranet connection. On the one hand, power was supplied by the hyper-efficient photovoltaic paint that was sprayed on the outside envelope, while on the other, water was absorbed through porous diffusion that cycled through a grey-water system that ultimately ended in a tap that produced crystal clear, mineralized water. The interior was no less sophisticated: the floors were inlaid with reactive pseudo-cork tiles that heated and cooled as needed, while the walls were paneled with faux-cedar planks, under which were a series of hidden compartments and furnishings that folded out at the graze of a finger. Maia suspected also that, unlike the cinder-block wheeled campers with moribund engines, John's camper could certainly also drive itself, even though its current controls had been stashed away somewhere unobtrusive. In short, John's home was a pampered interpretation of what "rough-living" might be like for a superficially environmentally-inclined upper-cruster with far too wealth.

Maia stood up and seated herself at John's sleek, ergonomic desk, blinking to activate her netset and allow it to connect to John's systems. She didn't wonder about how John managed to get a fancy camper like this. That much was obvious: like Jamie and herself, they'd grown up as rich estate kids and had always had access to gizmos and gadgets like these; the difference was that Maia and Jamie had severed their connections to their families after joining the Liberation, while John had apparently retained his, and had his parents smuggle in a rare top-of-the-line custom-made home - probably with a great deal of whining and wheedling. Maia supposed she couldn't blame him for caving in; it wasn't like Maia hadn't herself thought of doing the same numerous times. But in her case, as well as Jamie's, they'd been placed in far too high profile positions with too much scrutiny to be able to be seen with those luxuries and not cause controversy. Indeed, the expectations for the two of them were enormous as former, reformed estate children; not only were they expected to perform and do more than the others, they also had to maintain the illusion that they'd been completely reformed, which in itself was true, but there was the added expectation they be saints, or in Maia's case, a damned Messiah. It was the price to pay to be integrated into the Liberation community - though Maia suspected the real reason Jamie and her were integrated into the Council was to keep them under a close watch, as well as potentially use their connections with the corporate estates should the occasion come up.

"Whaazaaaaaaa?" John's face crowed in front of Maia, startling her amid an ostentatious overlay of gold streaks and flowery, pulsing borders. "Enter passcode for system access."

Oh, right, Maia thought with a sigh as she unsuccessfully tried to toggle the login back to a blank console; John would have customized his OS' interface to have his own obnoxious face greet people. Flitting through her files with blinks and subvocals, Maia called up the codes the Council had given her and entered them into John's system.

"Override code access. Councilor ID: Alpha-459 Messiah 3049. Acknowledge."

"Yessssir! You got it!" John's interface said in his irritating high-pitched voice before promptly disappearing.

A pale outline of tabs and icons populated the edge of Maia's vision, as the main systems loaded for her. Not surprisingly, most of his programs were a combination of vid-editing and networking programs that he used to produce his vidseries and interact with his many "fans" - though Maia had to admit that quotes weren't accurate as there were a significant amount of people who followed him. If only it weren't the case, then dealing with his death would have been a lot easier. Maia had never known what the appeal of John's silliness was, but then again, she had made a point to watch him as little as possible.

Now, with his entire collection in front of her, she figured she might as well see if there was something in there that would point to some explanation for his death - like perhaps a nice and tidy suicide note or something. Opening a file at random, Maia blinked it open and watched as John's image coalesced in front of her again.

"Hiiiiiiyaaaaa!" John screeched, his mop of light blond pair flipping upwards and his eyes opened wide to match his snarling expression, as he leapt into the air, epileptically thrusting his arms and legs at invisible enemies and landing to adopt a rigid fighting stance. Dressed in a pair of baggy black trousers that accentuated the flabbiness of his sunken, neon-white chest, fighting seemed the least likely scenarios, or perhaps the least advisable scenario.

"As Bruce Lee said, 'Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.' Remember, my fellow activists! That is what we must do! #GREATACTIVSM #ORIENTALWISOM #INSPIRINGTHOUGHTS" John ended his claim by putting his hands together in prayer and bowing while squinting his eyes and grinning idiotically - all to the sound of a gong.

Wow. Offensive on so many levels. Maia shook her head in amazement at John's clueless cultural-misappropriating Orientalism; and she didn't even self-identify with her Chinese side. It was amazing that this was the drivel that had made him popular. Clearly, there weren't many vidseries for people to watch. This though was John's thing, and he was thriving in it. Maia had known for a long time that John had been obsessed with the netmedia. Even when they were young, she'd known him to be constantly recording everything and then posting them in various recut and spliced formats in all kinds of forums, publicizing and reframing the trivia of the everyday as entertainment. In his desperate desire to be a net-sensation, he'd become increasingly invasive in his recording - until he was effectively banned from events and forbidden from recording anything. Not that the banning was necessary or effective, for that matter; even then, John's posts were derivative, uninspired and utterly uninteresting, and a scant few thousand followed his vidseries channel.

But recasting his vidseries as the stories of him being "activist" - however idiotic and however offensive to actual activists - must have somehow hit on a winning formula, as shortly before his death, his channel had well over a few hundred thousand followers - which then exploded to a few million after news of his death was made public. Knowing the pampered luxuries that John had always been addicted to - as evidenced by his decadent camper - Maia knew his self-portrayal as an activist was bunk. He'd never given two shits about effecting change or the social justice values that the Liberation had fought for. To be fair, after five years of being pulled along the current, Maia wasn't sure she believed it fully either. But at least, Maia knew it was significantly better than what things had been like before, and she actually did do good work with her position as a Messiah - necessary work that kept the peace and maintained the stiches that held the Liberation society together. John, on the other hand, was just play-acting as an activist, producing mind-numbing nonsense. These were things Maia told herself constantly.

Maia had suspected that John, who could have easily returned into the fold of the corporate estates, had decided to stay in the Liberation communities because he believed he could become the net-sensation that he'd always wanted to be; especially with the closedness of the intranet, the lack of competition and the presumed low sophistication of his audience - which, as John discovered when Maia skipped to the next entry, wasn't the case:

"So, some of my fans have messaged me to say I made a mistake," John announced somberly to his fans with only his face visible; then he smirked, as the recording panned out, revealing that he was now wearing an old grey suit, along with a long checkered scarf wrapped around his neck, with one end dramatically flung over his shoulder. With a thick animated moustache suddenly appearing under his nose, he corrected his mistake with: "My last quote was not from Bruce Lee! It was from the great German philosopher Goethe. Ja! Ja! Ja! Genau! Genau! Das ist gutt! Das ist gutt! My fellow activists! Let's not sit on our hands! Let's march! March to change the world! #GREATACTIVSM #TEUTONICWISDOM #OOPShahahahahaha" And ended with him pounding his chest, saluting a half-dozen times and then goose-stepping back and forth to soaring martial music.

Incredible. Absolutely incredible. John had certainly benefited by not only the limited options, but also the lax moderation policies of the Council's intranet. Excepting for John's shenanigans, there hadn't been any clear reason to impose rules for the isolated network, not only because any rules or censorship might have been too reminiscent of the old regime, but also because few if any had access to the editing software or equipment to produce videos of any kind - assuming you were talking about a recently emancipated servant or campesino who barely had any belongings, and not an opportunistic weekend social justice dabbler like John. In the beginning, only the Council produced any vidseries, most of which were turgid policy pieces, predictable and sanitized reports from the front and boring feel-good pieces that no one believed. It was the perfect environment for John to stand out and become a hit. This wasn't to say that John was universally popular. His stupidities and inaccuracies garnered many critics as fans and incited numerous flame wars that maxed out the message boards with constant back and forth recriminations.

In spite of the criticisms, and most likely because of it, John gained more attention and became ever more popular. And with each controversy he caused, he gleefully sought out to prick more people and be ever more provocative, while hiding behind claims of free speech and also with the caveat that he was "just" an entertainer. No surprise that with passions flaming as they were post-Liberation, people responded predictably with an anger that was as addictive as it was compelling - not unlike watching a blazing nuclear inferno slowly consuming a small bucolic village filled with orphan handicapped children in slow motion. Everyone knew that John was an idiot, and that he was the privileged child of an estate owner - and more shockingly the brother of a high ranking Council member. Maia was certain that all the time John was active it was infuriating to Jamie, and much more so that his death didn't wipe the slate clean, but muddied it even further.

However, even though he was an idiot and a goof-ball, was it enough to have him killed? Could it be that he pissed people enough for someone to whack him? In a way, with the stupid things he said, it would be incredible if he hadn't. Indeed, as Maia searched through his archives, she recalled an inflammatory incident that had even come to Maia's attention and made the news in Vancouver. Curious to see if it was still as bad as she remembered, Maia cued it up and started it up again.

It was still when John was dabbling in his vidseries style and he'd chosen at the time to adopt a reporter-style format. Clean cut and dressed in a professional-looking button-down shirt, he'd framed the "report" against the grey mists of Mount Maxwell, as he interviewed one of the Salt Spring farmers in Fulford Valley, who, unaware of the editing that John was already planning, was more perplexed than anything by the questioning:

"So Aidan, tell me again your thoughts about the Council-promoted practices of permaculture, aquaponics and urban farming. You're saying that they don't work, is that it?" John asked, glancing at the camera to make a lurid, shocked face, as he jabbed a microphone into the farmer's face; the microphone was for show, as Maia could tell that the recording was being made by a discretely hovering dronecam, whose native audio systems exceeded that of the microphone, and which John could easily manipulate with his netset. For the sake of his show, John apparently valued props more than anything. "It seems shocking to me! Shocking! You know that the Council has backed those growing practices as the very solution that will help feed us and bring us to the new Sustainable Future. Permaculture, aquaponics and urban farming! The Trifecta of sustainable food security! What you're saying is that they're wrong, is that it?"

"No, I didn't say that they're wrong," Aidan the farmer corrected, his hands gripping the handle of his hoe, as he looked quizzically at John. Maia had to sympathize with the poor man; he'd been standing politely in his fields answering John's badgering questions and had probably been forced to stop in the middle of his work when the village idiot had interrupted him with wild claims. "What is this about again, John? This is for feedback for the Council, right?"

"Yes! It's for the John Ellis Investigative Reporting vidseries that will provide feedback not only for the Council but the People!" John nodded enthusiastically. "Your words will be important for all to hear. It's big news! Big news! Tell us about what you were saying to me about how permaculure, aquaculture and urban farming will never feed us."

Immediately after John said that, the dronecam focused on Aidan, and a leader began flashing at the bottom of the image with John's provocative interpretation of the farmer's words:

<BREAKING NEWS! COUNCIL WRONG! FOOD SECURITY FAILING! #DANGERDANGER #FOODCRISISLOOMING>

"Well, it's just a question of basic numbers and net calories," Aidan said calmly and tactfully, leaning pensively on his hoe. "Permaculture just can't produce the amount of food to keep a whole community going. It can supplement it for sure, and it's good at building our relationship to food, but it's not what I would call a food producer."

John nodded seriously, as the leader was changed to: <DISASTER IS COMING! EXPERIENCED FARMER SAYS DISASTER LOOMING! #INSIDESTORY #COUNCILLIES #WE'REALLGONNATOSTARVE!>

"It's the same with urban farming and aquaponics," Aidan continued, shrugging his shoulders. "It's good for small things like greens and tomatoes, but it really isn't suited for things like wheat and potatoes, that is, carbohydrates that we all need to keep going."

<COUNCIL LEADING THE PEOPLE TO STARVATION! STARVATION! STARVATION! #STARVATIONLOOMS #MORERATIONING #WE'RESCREWED!>

"I see. You were also saying something about energetics? About how we need to put in energy to get energy out?" John pushed, looking at the camera to wink conspiratorially.

"Well, yes. We need fertilizer. Energy in, energy out. Pretty basic," Aidan said, visibly becoming more impatient and eager to get back to work. "We can't rely on humanure to keep us going. It's a net energy loss, and we'll ultimately have less and less food if we go this way."

<FARMER POOPOOS POO! COUNCIL STRATEGY IN QUESTION! IS HUMANURE A LIE? #NOPOOFORFARMER #NOPOOFORFOOD!>

"Are you suggesting that we go back to large-scale farming then?" John pounced excitedly, edging the microphone closer to Aidan's face.

"No, that's not what I'm saying," Aidan frowned, as he leaned backwards and away from John. "I'm saying that permaculture, aquaponics and urban farming aren't enough, and we do need to have larger areas under cultivation. They need to exist together... Now, John, I have to get back to work..."

<BREAKING: FARMER SAYS FACTORY FARMING IS THE ONLY WAY TO SAVE US! #FACTORIESRETURNING #CORPORATETAKEOVER #LIBERATIONATRISK>

"But that's what you're saying isn't it?" John persisted. "That the Council's approach is wrong? That we're risking mass starvation if we continue with their policy? You and the farming community are appealing for change!"

"What? What are you talking about? I'm not speaking for the farming community..." Aidan grumbled.

<FOOD SECURITY AT RISK! STARVATION IMMINENT! #CRISISCOMING #GETASMUCHFOODASYOUCAN>

"That's a pretty serious situation! We've got to change it!" John nodded his head again and unabashedly. "You, the farmer said it!"

"I said nothing like that!" Aidan said angrily. "I'm just saying that we need other systems beside the ones the Council is promoting."

<CONTROVERSY PLAGUES THE COUNCIL! DISSENT STIFLED! #AUTHORITYTURMOIL #FOODCRISISCOVERUP>

"Don't be afraid of the Council, Aidan," John said comfortingly. "I know it's risky to go against them or even the Directorate, but don't worry, the People will hear and they will protect you."

"Fucking hell, John. I'm not goddamned afraid of anything," Aidan growled. "Now if you don't mind, I need to get back to work, and I'd be pleased if you escorted yourself off my goddamned property."

"Just one more question, Aidan," John persisted, but before he could finish, Aidan turned around and stomped away into his fields. Throughout John's badgering, Maia was actually hoping that Aidan would knock John out with his hoe, and was instead left with a triumphant looking John who turned to the dronecam saying with no small amount of satisfaction.

"You heard it from me first, dear People. There's a major crisis going on with the Council as we speak. Who knows how long we'll survive? Will we even survive the winter? Will we have to go back to our corporate and estate masters to beg for food? Let's avert the disaster before it starts! Let's save ourselves! Petition the Council now! Let's force them address our concerns! This is John Ellis, reporting for I, John: Journeys of an Activist in a Brand-New World. Be sure to subscribe to my vidseries channel! Remember my tag #JOHNTRUTHS and also follow #FOODTRUTHS and #COUNCILSCANDALS."

Again, if it were the Pre-Liberation era, John's obvious fear-mongering sensationalism would have been dismissed and ignored; but, with so few new sources of information and no way to figure out what was true or not, John's "report" ignited a major shitstorm. It also wasn't helped by the fact that it was the first year that the Council was instituting rationing, leading to its own fair share of people's displeasure and worries. John's words simply tapped the worst of people's fears and gave them a physical voice that would have otherwise been ignored as a minor quibble.

Despite the rational voices that rose to counter John's drivel, popular concerns began to snowball until it became an avalanche of overreaction that the Council ultimately had to respond to with an expensive information campaign that had to outline all of the Council's food sources and future plans. Having spoken to Jamie at that time, there was a true fear that there would be food riots and, unbeknownst to most people, plans had been drawn up to barricade the food stocks and even subdue the crowds, which had been unthinkable until then. Eventually, calm returned, but the mistrust persisted.

Unsurprisingly, more than just a few people were annoyed with John, including Aidan the farmer, who had complained that he had been misrepresented and made an unwilling participant. Charges were laid and motions were made to limit John's speech, but John had cannily claimed that he was only asking questions, and weren't questions part of the very fabric of the Council, in addition to free speech and yadayadayada? This line of reasoning, of course, generated much popular support. A debate continued for some time, but as the fury settled down, the Council eventually decided to simply ignore John. Much to everyone's relief, John was wise enough to realize that he had flirted with fire with that incident, and, having realized that he gained the following he wanted anyway, from then on continued his vidseries with far less provocative pieces, which relieved everyone in the Council.

Suffice it to say, while John was a popular and well-known net-personality, he was also a polarizing one. So again, the question was whether he was so polarizing that someone might kill him for it. It seemed incredibly unlikely to Maia, but then if people were stupid enough to fall for his inanities, they could be stupid enough to kill him too.

Finally sleepy again with the myriad of annoying, tiresome thoughts of John, Maia yawned and crawled back into bed, hoping that tomorrow's investigation would go smoothly and without a hitch - and that perhaps, as a perk, she'd have some more time to hang out with Rene.

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# Chapter 7

Maia's comfortable sleep, nestled in John's wonderfully form-fitting, pressure controlled mattress over which she had rolled herself burrito-like in a fluffed-up duvet cover, was abruptly interrupted by an alarming horn being blown directly outside the window that she'd left open the night before.

BLAAAAAAT!!!!

"Praise Hanuman! A new day is here! Glory to Hanuman! Mahacore!" an indecent, uncivilized imbecile screamed and then moved on to the other campers and mobile homes to continue the community's heart rate-thrashing morning wake-up call. "Praise Hanuman! A new day is here! Glory to Hanuman! Morning meal service in twenty minutes! Mahacore!"

Unwillingly scratching her eyes open, Maia was for a moment unsettled that she couldn't see anything--but then realized that it was because it was still dark outside and, fitting her netset onto her ear, because it was an ungodly four fucking thirty fucking in the goddamned A.M., which, as far as she was concerned, was still the middle of the bloody night.

Were these people insane? Did they not have any common sense? With the morning caller's call still pealing in the distance, Maia hid her head under the pillow, determined to fall back asleep and wake at a more decent hour, very likely six or seven hours from now at a bare minimum. But, with her heart rate thumping wildly from surprise and irritation, Maia found herself unable to go back to sleep, her mind already filling up with the questions she had about John's death, the worries about whether she'd be interfered with, and, as a side note of course, how she'd spend more time with Rene. Fully awake now, there was no choice but to get up; though, the actual process to do so involved trying to get up three times - struggling against her desire to stay in the toasty bed as opposed to exposing herself to the cold of the morning - until she finally had to get up because her bladder forced her to.

"Goddamnedcrazypeoplemakingmegetupatthiscrazystupidhour... Wherearemyshoes?... whyisitsocold?... ThisisstupidfittinginforJamieridiculous," Maia muttered, as she threw off her sheets and yawningly stumbled over to the small cabinet where the composting toilet was and plunked down on the seat. Once more she thought about whether it would be possible for her to just fall back asleep, but her stomach began to rumble and the hopes for breakfast roused her interest and nudged her willingness to move forward. If there was one thing that was great about these Messiah gigs, it was that she was usually well fed and didn't have to forgo her meals. Still simmering in her grouchiness, Maia pulled on her clothes and boots, grabbed the lamp and querulously stepped outside, hoping that she would remember the way back to the community plaza.

The morning air was brisk and, Maia reluctantly conceded, refreshing, as she warily squinted her way along the well-worn path. Her fears that she may lose her way were unwarranted though, since the creeping dusk light brought ghostly definition to the trees and the surroundings, slowly bringing light back as if everything had been spirits from the dream world and were now regaining their corporeal form. Soon, a greenish-whitish fluorescent glimmering became more evident down the path, and it was easier for Maia to orient herself towards it. Based on the sounds of clinking utensils and subdued chatter, she assumed that it was the same community plaza they were eating in last night.

A trio of tall, upright LED floodlights lit the community plaza, while the smells of cinnamony, sweet and jammy breakfast enticingly ticked her senses, making her stomach grumble even more and make her pick up her pace. Stepping into the plaza, Maia saw that everyone was already eating, their bowls and mugs clutched in their hands as they huddled together for warmth. Suddenly, she had the irrational fear that she'd arrived late, missed the prayer (no big loss there), and they may have already eaten everything, and, in a slight panic, walked-ran towards the main tables - but was relieved to find that the food was still there and that there was no crowd to contend with or with whom she had to force out pleasant morning chatter with, except for - ah, damn - MahaLindy. Hunched over and bundled in multiple, poofy layers with a fleece hat and scarf, the old lady was prodding and squeezing everything, as she fussily added bits and pieces of everything into her bowl. Seeing no other way to get at the food without having to interact MahaLindy - except by shoving her to the side, grabbing food and running away, which would have been impolitic, though hilarious - Maia walked over and marshaled her pleasant side.

"Good morning, MahaLindy. This spread looks fantastic! I'm amazed at how much is here!" Maia said sincerely. It had been a long time since she'd seen a breakfast spread this generous or plentiful - so plentiful in fact that even with a few hundred community members breaking their fast, there were still ample leftovers.

Grabbing a cleanish looking bowl, Maia wasn't even sure where to start; digging up some of the steel-cut oats were of course a must, but she became flustered when faced with not one, not two, not three, but five topping choices! Should she have the plumped raisins or perhaps the strawberry preserves? Or maybe the applesauce? Or the walnut pieces! Or could it truly be? ...Yes! It was milk! Actual whole milk! Not that the spread was anything close to the pre-Liberation gluttonous selection of her past that included uncured bacon, boar sausages, or fluffy croissants; that would have been a sheer impossibility. However, the climbing community had the full selection of what a post-Liberation could have, including a number freshly baked sourdough loaves and some cut fruit; though it was fair to qualify that the bread had hacked into small pieces - and, sadly and predictably, there were no eggs, butter, honey or maple syrup in sight, just the ubiquitous shaker of the plentiful iodized salt that made post-Liberation meals palatable.

Yet, despite the mind-boggling selection that any sane person would be gorging on, MahaLindy seemed unhappy, bunching her lips as she looked critically at everything, as if suspecting some of it may be poisoned. Her bowl a mere quarter-full, MahaLindy turned to Maia and said in her innocent, withered old-lady voice, "Good morning to you, Messiah Maia. Praise Hanuman. Maybe next time you will be able to join us for the prayer?"

"Ah... yes, well I wasn't expecting to wake at this hour..." Maia said flustered, masking her discomfort at the old woman's guilt-tripping needling by taking uncommon interest in spooning oatmeal into her bowl.

"Oh, yes. I see. I would have thought that it would have been part of your spiritual practice in Vancouver, but I haven't been there in so long, I don't know what goes on over there. I'm not even sure they have Communal Devotionals as we do here," MahaLindy said, cocking her head to the side and wincing her mouth into what was probably a smile.

Obviously, given the apparent inoffensiveness and harmlessness of the woman, Maia shouldn't take MahaLindy's words as being judgmental or critical--since that wouldn't be spiritual or enlightened of her at all--but she nevertheless repressed a strong the urge to bowl over the defenseless old woman and scream at her to stop pestering her with her sanctimonious superiority. Instead, Maia replied in an easy, casual voice, "Oh, we're very open and accepting over in Vancouver. We do have Communal Devotionals, but people usually do their own thing. The Council encourages people to practice as they want without any specific structure or guidelines that..."

"Oh, yes, oh yes, for sure. I never doubted the Council, of course. These things are so interesting, aren't they?" MahaLindy interrupted quickly and silkily, disarming Maia's response by lightly touching her arm and leaning over with a request, "Can you help me dear? I'm trying to see where they put the honey, but I can't see very well with these glasses. I'm still waiting for my operation, you know."

"Uh, yes, I'd be happy to," Maia said readjusting again to the current scenario of the helping an invalid who could barely see or feed herself--a discomfort that was accentuated by the guilt that she wanted to thrash the pretentious, pompous old woman not two moments before. "I actually don't see any honey around..."

"Here it is!" a voice suddenly announced, producing a slim, clear bottle containing richly amber honey.

It was Rene, who, with his faded smock tied around him, had been cleaning up the tables along with a half-dozen other community members, but who Maia hadn't noticed until then - though she definitely was now, judging from the heat in her cheeks and the flutters in her stomach.

Smiling brightly and making eye contact with Maia, he said, "There wasn't any honey left in the large bins, since we finished the last batch, and the Directorate hadn't approved a new purchase yet. I have some of my own, and you're welcome to have it! It's clover honey from a friend up island."

"You're such, a dear, Rene. Such a dear," MahaLindy cooed as she took the bottle from Rene and emptied no less than a quarter of the contents into her bowl before returning it to him. "You know that my stomach has been having issues and this helps so much. I'll always know you take such good care of me."

"It's nothing, MahaLindy. It's my pleasure," Rene replied easily, though Maia had seen a slight flash of surprise at MahaLindy's rather liberal use of the much sought-after honey. Presenting the bottle of honey with the flair of a maitre d', he bowed deeply to Maia and said, "Would you like some honey as well, Madame Messiah?"

"Why, yes, thank you, kind sir," Maia grinned, tipping her imaginary cap and curtseying with her imaginary ballroom gown, before reaching for the bottle. Knowing how rare and precious the honey was, she used a sparing drizzle.

"And would you like some coffee, as well?" Rene asked, with impeccable charm, as he reached over to grab a thermos at the end of the table, and started to unscrew it.

"Coffee? You have COFFEE?" Maia exclaimed. Of course she wanted coffee, what sane person who had any sense of what a proper breakfast wouldn't want coffee - especially after not having access it for five freaking, painful, headache-laden, caffeine-deprived, miserable years!

"Actually, no, we don't," Rene grinned, his eyes glinting with play. "But it's a pretty good substitute. You want to try?"

"What! You bastard!" Maia yelled, failing to be angry as she whacked Rene in the shoulder and laughed in spite of her disappointment. "I really thought you might have had some!"

"Sorry. I it. Seriously, it's not bad. I make it myself with dandelion and chicory roots that I slow roast over cherrywood," Rene insisted, offering to fill her mug with the faux-coffee (that honestly who the hell would love?).

Having had plenty of coffee-substitutes before and been disappointed with each one, Maia was certain that it would again clearly not be coffee, no matter how tasty it would be. Why even bother having a pale, limp shadow of the real deal, when it would fail all expectations? But, of course, looking at Rene's face, Maia said,

"Oh, alright. Fine."

"What do you think?"

"Hmmm... It's not bad."

"Really?"

"If I ignore that it tastes like dandelion and chicory, yes it's not bad."

"Hahaha... you have to give it more time. People here love it."

"I'm not sure I want to give it more time."

"Well, I'm sure you can find a little more time..."

"Isn't he a darling?" MahaLindy interjected, rather inconveniently reminding everyone of her presence, as she padded towards Rene to give him an awkward hug. "He's been cooking for us for years and now this year he's in charge of the food at the Solstice Celebration. What would we do without him? We have to keep him, won't we?"

"Ha ha. Yes, yes. I think you already have me though," Rene chuckled reflexively, lightly hugging in return, seemingly trying to keep from crushing the woman whose head only reached his chest. "I should go finish cleaning up and getting lunch service ready before I get back to getting us ready for the Solstice. I think I should see you later, Maia, right?"

"Yes," Maia said, with embarrassing alacrity, but then realizing that she had work to do, which she had no idea how long it would take. "Well, I think I'll be back anyway. I have my - er - investigation to do, but I think Mark is supposed to be setting things up, and I don't see him around..."

"Oh, he doesn't have breakfast with us. He's left me with instructions on what to do." MahaLindy explained, casually stepping forward into Maia's space, and dismissing Rene with a nod and a few words, "Thank you for your service as always, Rene. Perhaps the Messiah will be back for the lunch meal. I may get her to participate in our midday ceremony if we're lucky," MahaLindy sighed wistfully and lifted her arms to appeal to the heavens - rather than at Maia who was standing right beside her. With deliberate slowness and emotive sincerity, MahaLindy said, "We're so grateful to have you here, Maia. John, poor John... How we all loved him. He was such a valued sanga member. It will be wonderful to have closure on the case, even though we know it was such a terrible accident. To help you get the investigation on the way and also with anything that will come up, we've assigned SriSharma, who will be leading you up the Bluffs this morning."

"Ok, yes... but what about Stefan..." Maia said, wanting to say more to Rene but he'd already stepped away and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Don't worry about that! It'll all be taken care of. Have faith in Hanuman," MahaLindy soothed, holding Maia's arm again and guiding her towards a group of people sitting on the ground. "SriSharma! Are you here?"

"Mmmffffr! Yes! Here! Coming!" SriSharma replied a few groups over, choking on his last bite as he ran over, nearly tripping over his feet and spilling his bowl. He was still wearing his paramedic uniform, though it was significantly more crumpled today. "Good morning to you MahaLindy. Good morning to you as well Madame Messiah. Praise Hanuman. Glory to Hanuman. Mahacore."

"Good. You're here," MahaLindy said to a breathless and mildly panicked SriSharma as she walked over and started to kneel down at the group's edge, which had dutifully shifted to make more room. "Let's sit here, Maia. What a wonderful opportunity. Our community members would love to meet you. Everyone, this is of course Maia the Messiah who has come to help us. Let me introduce everyone here. This is DaveNataraja, and that's KatieDevi..."

Trapped in a circle of fawning devotees, it was a long time afterwards before Maia could escape from the agonizing politeness and saccharine pleasantries. Speaking to the public was Maia's absolutely least liked Messiah duty; it was, however, very much a necessary one, as she and the other Messiahs were the public face of the Liberation that everyone was supposed to be able to relate to and were supposed to take inspiration from. Naturally, over time Maia got her Messiah shtick down to a reliably convincing routine: she had to constantly smile, but without showing any teeth, as showing those terrible things would be a sign of aggressiveness, or of too much emotion, which also would somehow be bad. Her eyes also needed to be relaxed just the right amount, while her cheeks needed to be a tad perky. All of which produced the impression that Maia was beaming acceptance and understanding, and, through that, a sense of trust that she be heralding the change they dreamed for. It was exhausting and infuriating.

To top it off, instead of being able to comfortably enjoy her breakfast, Maia had to nibble at it, unable to completely enjoy the wonderful flavors (that she now knew that Rene had had a hand in producing), as she listened to people's supplications about their difficulties, while also wishing to know more about Maia and her story. For all their silly queries, Maia had a number of stock responses that seemed to work and be convincing with the right amount of personalizing, while interspersed with regular doses of "I hear what you're saying" or "Your feelings are valid" or "Thank you for sharing your energetic aura with me." It was gobbledy-gook, but everyone loved it and had a million orgasmic epiphanies as they listened to her.

It wasn't soon enough when a bell rang, signaling the end of the morning meal as well as the commencement of the day, causing everyone to get up and begin whatever duties they had. As everyone dispersed, SriSharma walked up meekly to her and briefly explained how they would get up to the site again, using an alternate route that wouldn't cross paths with Stefan, and asked whether she would be alright with that. Waving him irritably away, Maia agreed, eager to set off and away. On the positive side, the sun was rising, shedding a warm, orangish glow on the climbing community, as well as the promise that the cold morning may be taken over by a hot clear summer day. Also very much on the positive side, SriSharma wisely elected to be silent during their hike up to the southern side of the Maxwell Bluffs, returning to the site where they'd been chased out of by a deranged naked bear-man.

But, as they walked up, Maia's opinion of SriSharma shifted to something approaching warmth with a dose of pity; not only because he'd offered to strap on her pack with scanning and recording equipment, but also because it seemed like SriSharma was very low on the totem pole in the climbing community. Though she guessed that Harmony and everyone in the Directorate would claim that they were open, equal, undiscriminatory and with minimal hierarchy, it was obvious, even though Maia's brief exposure to their dynamics, that there was a distinct ranking: attractive-looking, athletic men and women blessed with features that made them better climbers were on top of the heap - whereas the less attractive, runtier members milled around them, currying favor where they could - as SriSharma did.

"Over here, Madame Messiah," SriSharma waved to Maia from behind fallen alder. "John's body is right down this path here. Watch your step. It's a little chaussy here."

"Alright, thanks," Maia replied, gingerly easing her way down the pebbly section. Accepting SriSharma's helping hand, she said gently, "Look, you can call me Maia, ok? If you'll be helping me out, I don't want to be constantly 'Messiahed', ok?"

"Uh... ah... if you say so... M-Maia," SriSharma stuttered her name out, then looking wildly around as if he may be struck by lightning.

"Great! Let's get to work then," Maia said briskly, walking down to John's body, over which a faint rectangular shimmering could be seen, indicating that the permastate cover hadn't been disturbed. Pulling out the scanner from her bag and splaying its legs onto the ground, Maia activated the infrared field. Handing the recorder to SriSharma, she ordered, "Ok, grab this and put that next to those bushes there. Two feet back, a little more... a little to the right... perfect. Turn it on so these can synch up. Great." Maia toggled the scanner's functions until she knew for sure the baseline readings were accurate and then waved SriSharma over. "Back to where we started, right? Let's get this cover off of him. Grip it hard on your end, I want to get this cover off in one shot. One... Two... Three!"

At three, as they pulled off the cover, Maia half expected Stefan barreling through the woods screaming again, but nothing happened except the squishy sound of the cover being pulled off and John's body being exposed to air. If SriSharma was to be believed, his body was exactly as they found it, though they weren't sure how long he'd lain there. Certainly, they knew it was less than forty-eight hours, as after he'd missed his lunch meal, the community had organized a search for and found him later that night. Judging from the state of decay and the lack of any animals nibbling on John, Maia guessed it was about right.

To be honest, Maia was amazed they'd made the correct call to preserve him, instead of moving him and burying him. In any case, it allowed her now to investigate what happened - even though getting to this stage had been needlessly tortuous. Flicking on her netset, Maia started to log the information subvocally, noting the broken bones, the twisted limbs, which suggested he'd fallen from the cliff and tumbled down. The tussled bushes and broken branches seemed to confirm this as well. It seemed he'd fallen by accident, perhaps as he was being an idiot making his videos. However, no matter how straight forward the cause of his death was, Maia needed to go through the motions. Logging into the Council reporting site, Maia opened John's file.

"Initiating Case number 59b. Investigator: Maia Lam, Messiah of the Revolution #3049. Date and time: 9:43 AM, June 19, 2055. Location: Salt Spring Island. The deceased: John Ellis. Approximate date of decease: June 10, 2055, hour unknown, but an estimated time may be in the range of 8pm to 1pm. The deceased was discovered approximately 36 hours after disappearance and a permastate cover was laid over the body 2 hours after discovery. Permastate cover was successfully applied by local paramedic third class SriSharma Rodger Johnson and the disturbance of the body appears to be minimal. Scanner reveals bone breakage and body contusions consistent with a fall from a great height. This is consistent with the location of the body, which is at the bottom of a cliff on the southern side of Maxwell Bluffs. Unknown if there is video evidence of his accident, as the deceased's netset is not currently present; likely it was lost during his fall and will initiate search. Unknown if there were mental disturbances in the victim prior to the death. Investigations into the community will continue. Currently, there is no reason to believe any foul play, and it appears to be an accident. Evidence will be gathered along the axis of fall to..."

Maia paused as noises that had been in the distant background, which she assumed to be far away, suddenly came closer and forced her to look up the cliff in surprise and horror.

"What the hell? What is going? Holy shit! What the fuck? Why are people there? What the hell are they doing up there?"

A procession of two dozen climber-pilgrims, dressed and decked with flowers and saffron and orange ceremonial robes were tromping down the hill crashing cymbals, thumping drums, and blowing horns. They were all carrying various kinds of climbing gear, some brandishing tasseled biners, others swinging lengths of chalk-stained rope. In spite of the gear, it was fair to guess that they had no intention to climb, but were here instead to perform some weird climbing ceremony... which in the annoying spirit of religious acceptance, was in principle fine; Maia couldn't care less what they did, but preferably they would do their nonsense away from her - and certainly away from the goddam accident scene! They were liable to destroy the evidence!

Furious, Maia waved her arms and screamed trying to get them to stop. All they did was slowly turn towards her, and head in her direction - and directly into the path where Maia had been eyeing as John's most likely fall-line. Unable to do anything else, she ran up to the leader screaming and waving her hands,

"Stop! Goddamn it! Stop! What the fuck are you doing!? Get the fuck out of here! Stop!" Maia stopped yelling at once as soon as she recognized the leader. She hadn't recognized him, as he was wearing a long robe that was cinched at the waist by braided slings, while in his hand, he held a biner that had attached a large-sized crescent-shaped cam; the piece of climbing gear, dangling as it was from a length of steel cable, had the nasty look of a makeshift medieval flail.

Holding the climbing gear in a loose grip, but at just the right angle to hold the promise of violence, RajTwight said with a lopsided, shit-eating smirk,

"Why hello, Messiah. Fancy meeting you here. We're purifying this area for Hanuman. What are you doing here?"

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# Chapter 8

"What am I doing here? What does it look like I'm doing?" Maia worked to keep her voice under control; with a crowd of RajTwight's climber-pilgrims in the background, looking curiously on, she had to maintain the image of the Messiah as a dignified institution. "I'm investigating John Ellis' death, with the explicit approval and participation of your Director. You are in the process of..."

"Ah, John. Good ol'John. So tragic he died," RajTwight interjected with a sigh and a dramatic clasp of his hands in front of his chest. "Such a shame he only reached the level of a 5.6 initiate, in spite of our attempts to help him praise Hanuman with us. We're of course very happy that you're here, dearest and most revered Madame Messiah, since you'll be able to put little John's memory to peace."

Maia's ire bubbled, as she suffered RajTwight's flippancy and retained a control on her temper, "That's exactly what you're keeping me from doing. Now you and your group will have to leave here..."

"Leave?" RajTwight clapped his scraggly white-bearded face, his eyes open and mouth forming an 'o'. "Why, we can't leave. In fact, you're the one we'll have to ask to leave."

Maia's eyes bugged out as she spluttered, "What? This is Council and Directorate business! I have authority in this area! I am the Messiah! You have no right to..."

"Oh, but we do have the right to be here," RajTwight tutted with his supercilious smile and the comfort of his crowd around him - while Maia had the miserable-looking SriSharma who looked about to pee in his pants. "I'm here in the capacity of our community ritual holder and spiritual cleanser, which supersedes all other priorities. Surely, you know very well that even the Council has agreed that local spiritual beliefs must be acknowledged first. Of course, you know this! You're the Messiah! You're an expert on such matters. And so it must be blatantly obvious to one such as yourself that without the blessing of Hanuman nothing can be done. Actually, you should be thanking me for being here and going through the proper forms, or else nothing you do in this location would be legal."

"There is no such agreement by the Council! That's absurd! This is Council business!" Maia retorted, though she quickly activated her netset to call up the Council regulations to see if the bastard was right. Until she could confirm her authority, she repeated her original line: "Get out of here! You are severely impacting the evidence site and you are in infraction of..."

But, sensing that he'd gained the upper hand, RajTwight ignored Maia, turned to the crowd and raised his arms to yell out his sermon to his parishioners, "For too long, the southern side of the Maxwell Bluffs has been left without a cleansing and left to the wilds. It has been sinful that no followers of Hanuman, dedicated to the flashing of his Infinite Crag and to the red-pointing of our way to the enlightened state of the 5.14 grade has come here to prepare the ground and sanctify the area. But we are here! It is back within our grasp! Let us cleanse it for Hanuman! Let us dedicate the Southern Bluffs to the Glory of Hanuman!"

"Praise Hanuman! Glory to Hanuman! Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore!" the crowd cheered, as some smashed biners together and twirled colorful slings in the air, while others threw up poofs of chalk powder into the air, causing Maia to cough and hack. Drumming and horn-blowing began again, as the crowd became increasingly animated and reduced any hope that Maia could stop whatever crazy ceremony RajTwight was about to start.

"Bring forth the Great Rope!" RajTwight yelled over the din, raising a hand, summoning forward a chalky-clothed pilgrim who had a neatly-stacked rope draped over her thick forearms. Grabbing a loose end of the rope, RajTwight lifted it into the air, crying, "With the sacrifice of this rope, we show our dedication to commit our lives to the Ascent! Always to the Ascent of the Infinite Crag! We will always have faith in the Great Rope that holds us and preserves our lives. May our knots always be strong! May we reach the heights of Hanuman, with his monkey index! May our falls hold us and never reach back to the lowly ground. Cling to the Rock! Work the Crag! Power through! Hail the Infinite Crag! Praise Hanuman! Mahacore!"

"Mahacore! Hail the Infinite Crag! Praise Hanuman! Mahacore!"

"Bring forth the Conclave of Pro! Bring forth the Twelve Quick-Draws, the Six Cams and the Six Nuts and Hexes!" RajTwight cried amid continued poofs of chalk, punctuated by continued horn blows and cymbal crashes. Another pilgrim came forward, his beanie pulled deferentially almost over his eyes, as he walked with his arms outstretched in front of him with the quick-draws and metal gear dangling from his fingers. RajTwight continued,

"Bless the Saints of Climbing represented by the Twelve Quick-Draws, Six Cams, Six Nuts and Hexes! Glory to Saints Sharma, Ojida, Twight, and Forte! May they and their brethren of Cams and Nuts always be true to us and protect us on our climbs! Verily, they are there with every hold and every grip of the Ascent into Enlightenment! May they watch over us and hold the weight of our falls! May our every piece find the right crack! May none of our pro fail! Praise our bolts! Praise our anchors! May we be always holy and hard core in our climbs!"

"Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore! Glory to Hanuman! Praise the Infinite Crag!"

"And last, to complete the Trinity of Climbs, bring forth the Sacred Harness!" RajTwight screeched, his head tossed back, as his arms undulated in the chalk impregnated air. The last pilgrim, her hair braided with wires came forward bearing a sun-faded harness that was tightly gripped in her two powerful-looking hands. "O, Sacred, Hallowed, Revered Harness! Hear our prayers! You secure us and hold us! Your buckles and belts strap us to you! O, Harness, may you always hold tightly to us! We trust you with our very Lives that we dedicate to the Glory of Hanuman! May you never loosen! May you always resist our falls! Strength! Core! Flexibility! Push hard! Hail Hanuman! Hail the Infinite Crag!"

"Push it! Push HARD! Mahacore! MahaCORE! MAHACOOOOORE!!!!"

Gagging amidst the plumes of chalk, Maia tried numerous times to interrupt RajTwight's fevered ceremony and bring some sense back, but each time she tried, she ended up hacking, sneezing and coughing. With no choice but to pull back a good twenty feet away from the borderline hysterical revelers, she tried again, screaming at the top of the lungs, but was drowned out by the noisy pandemonium. Making things worse, the climbing pilgrims were now breaking out into dance, spinning around and making their own cries to the skies; Maia half-expected some of them to break down into epileptic fits, screaming gibberish and speaking in tongues.

Knowing how difficult it was to stop a religious ceremony once it started, Maia was tempted for them to do their thing and let them expend their energy. She could only hope that whatever damage they were currently doing would remain where it was and she somehow could work around it. Indeed, they seemed to be gathering closer around RajTwight, and grew moderately quieter. However, their ceremony was about to become much much worse: Maia nearly lost whatever composure she had left when she saw that they were actually gathering to set fire to the rope as their "sacrifice," along with a good chunk of brambles and logs that were probably going to be set ablaze - around which they were probably dance around or some pseudo-tribal nonsense, never mind that they would effectively be destroying the evidence surrounding John's death.

Maia had to put an end to the nutty climber pilgrims' ceremony that was about to become a rampage; little wonder Stefan didn't want to have them there. Spotting SriSharma standing apart from the others, but who was still trying to fit in by dancing self-consciously and making meek half cries, Maia hooked his arm and pulled him so she could yell in his ear,

"You have to stop them! Get them to stop! They're ruining the evidence site!"

"I-I can't! I'm sorry Madame Messiah. RajTwight is the sanga's climbing-puja. He doesn't answer to anyone here," SriSharma stuttered helplessly. "The only person he would listen to would be Harmony."

"Harmony? He would listen to Harmony?" Maia asked fiercely. "And would they listen to Harmony?"

"Y-yes, yes... of course they would, but she's not here..." SriSharma nodded unhappily, wringing his hands together. "She's in Ganges now having a meeting with the farmers and the other island dwellers..."

"Fine! Fucking fine! They'll only listen to Harmony, then they'll get fucking Harmony," Maia cursed, activating her netset and having it connect to the scanner and recorder, and initiate their holoprojection protocols.

Maia was lucky that Harmony was in Ganges as it was the island's only real "town"; small as it was, she also knew it had a few of the Council's intranet signal repeaters. It was thanks to those repeaters that Maia was able to make her attempt at bringing order to the situation. Accessing the priority security handshake, Maia said,

"Council Override. Red Flag Priority from Maia Lam Messiah of the Revolution #3049, passcode 900acIL12. Initiate secondary security queries. Favorite food: creme brulee. Mother's maiden name: Major Biatch. Force Emergency Crisis Connection with Salt Spring Director, ID: Harmony Catherine Valentina."

Ordinarily, only vetted calls could be made to netsets with the approval of the wearer, but all Directorate members were required to have instant access channels available for when emergency communication was necessary, such as for an attack from the corporate estates or some other kind of disaster natural or otherwise. This was the channel Maia was currently using to get a hold of Harmony and that would be impossible to ignore--though technically, stopping a group of nutbar climbing cultists didn't qualify as an emergency, so it wasn't the proper use of this security protocol. But at this point, Maia was prepared to risk being reprimanded, if she could prevent her investigation from being ruined.

It took less than two seconds for the call to be taken up and for Harmony's face to appear in Maia's vision.

"Connection confirmed. This is Harmony Catherine Valentina. What is the situation...? Maia? What is this...?" Harmony's initially grave expression gave way to a mix of confusion and irritation.

"Just wait one moment," Maia hastily replied, rushing over to the scanner and recorder, flipping open their control panels and tabbing through their interfaces for the holoprojection commands.

Her lips drawn taughtly, Harmony clipped, "Maia. Messiah or not, this is an emergency line only. Unless the corporate and estate militias are storming are shores right now, then I'll speak to you later about my lodging a formal complaint to the Council about your misconduct and abuse of the security channels." Maia guessed that Harmony was trying to shut the connection, but the emergency line was open a mandatory three minutes with full redundancies - a precaution that was intended to keep connections from being disrupted and that Maia was fully using to her advantage. "Maia? Respond. I have work to do. Shut this connection immediately. What are you doing? I demand you explain yourself."

Ignoring Harmony's questions, Maia fumbled with the recorder, trying several times to match its dataport to the scanner's, even as she fought to find the correct projection settings on the scanner. Clicking through the 'Display' panel, she scrolled to the 'hAUX' options and immediately, much to her relief, the screen flashed the message, "Adapting signal reference." Damn it. Not only was Maia not the most technologically savviest person, but she'd also never done this type of command before. Of course, she had trained to do this in her Messiah field-training course - but, not thinking she'd ever use it, she'd slept through those stupid tech modules. Something she now really regretted. She was grateful that the interfaces were fairly user-friendly and essentially idiot proof.

The entire process of connecting the scanner and recorder took less than twenty stressful seconds of Harmony's angry questions, but Maia was rewarded by the "Connection Successful" message, followed by the audio and visual settings, both of which Maia toggled to their maximum to make the projection as impressive as possible. With everything in place, the implications of Maia's gamble were coming into place in her mind, as well as how poorly it could potentially go; but seeing no other way to get out now that she's gone this far, Maia gave Harmony the only warning she would get:

"Your image has been linked, Harmony. I'll be transmitting the image of your audience from my own netset, so the perspective will be a little strange," Maia announced, as she clenched her fists and initialized the projection protocol.

"Audience? What are you talking about?" Harmony frowned, but blinked as Maia switched the visual feed from her own face to that of the crowd of climber-pilgrims, shortly after which Harmony's own amplified voice boomed over the crowd of climbing cultists, "What's going on here? Maia? What are you doing?"

Relief and guilty delight coursed through Maia's nerves, as the crowd spun around at the sudden appearance of Harmony's voice - only to be faced with the immense holoprojection of their Director's disembodied head being projected above Maia's head. Though not used very frequently, the scanner and recorder that were part of Maia's investigation kit could also be used to display images; the original intent was that holoprojections could be used to share maps or images of missing people. Maia's current use integrating the holoprojection to a live-streamed communication was something of an innovation of hers that she'd have to mention to the Council; however, though potentially very handy, it was perhaps, in terms of user privacy, not the most ethical adaptation of the equipment. But Maia couldn't care less about the abstractions of ethics. The only thing that mattered was that RajTwight and his climber-pilgrims' religious rampage had been defused.

"Hello, Harmony. I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, but I was hoping you could spare a few words for your community," Maia said as loud as she could, doing her best to keep the attention of the crowd, while keeping RajTwight and Harmony off balance. She was rather pleased as she watched RajTwight's gaping expression and blinking eyes as he registered the sight of his Director's image hovering in front of him. "Some of your community members are here at John Ellis' investigation site, and I believe it would be a perfect opportunity for us to reiterate the Council's and the Salt Spring Island Directorate's collaboration on the initiative of John Ellis' investigation. I am of course happy to have them observe my activities, but their combined presence and... ah, activities... could be harming our mutual goals."

"I see. I see," Harmony said, pursing her lips and regaining her composure as the images of the climber-pilgrims and the imminent destruction of the area was sent to her, courtesy of Maia's netset. There were many things that Harmony could say at this point, but Maia knew that she'd cornered the Director into saying:

"Greetings my fellow Hanuman climbing devotees. As you know, Madame Messiah Maia Lam has arrived from the mainland by the Council's mandate with which the Directorate has agreed to collaborate with. Kindly leave the area and..."

"We can't do that! We haven't finished the purification ceremony!" RajTwight protested, having fought his way up to the front of the crowd.

"Raj? This is your initiative?" Harmony narrowed her eyes at the dusty RajTwight, who had to crane his head upwards to face the Director's huge, shimmering head above him.

"Y-yes," RajTwight stammered defensively. "It's within my rights as the climbing-puja and the keeper of the ceremonies and main priest for our Holy Hanuman to..."

"Our agreement with Stefan and his ReWilders has not been rescinded. We are still committed to maintain the Southern Maxwell Bluffs untouched," Harmony snapped coldly, her authoritative voice augmented by Maia's slight increase of the audio's base volume (Maia had to keep herself from adding a background of flames and lightning to Harmony's image). Perhaps realizing that she was bringing to light in-fighting that was inconsistent with the confidence-inducing image of a united, unanimous Directorate, Harmony softened her tone: "But I imagine you must have forgotten our arrangement with the ReWilders, right?"

"I... uh... I... Yes, that's what happened. I must have forgot," RajTwight agreed deferentially, with a perceptible pinkish hue coloring his cheeks.

"That's forgivable then, isn't it?" Harmony said generously. "Don't we all recall that Hanuman is forgiving in our falls from the Infinite Crag, and that we must remember that it is our fellow community member holding the other end of the Great Rope keeping us from falling to earth. Praise Hanuman!"

"Praise Hanuman! Glory to Hanuman! Mahacore!" the crowd of climber-pilgrims said automatically. Taking their cue from their leader, they'd adopted a similarly deferential pose, bowing their heads down and all but groveling in front of Harmony's image. Pleased with the effectiveness of Harmony's holoprojection, Maia vaguely considered that should be projecting her own face more often.

"Praise Hanuman. Thank you all. As you know, the entire community is preparing for our Solstice Celebrations. For those of you involved in those preparations, I would like you to return to your duties. For the others, I believe this would be a good time for you all to do repetitions of 5.8s while including the climbing-mantra at each hold to meditate on the matter," Harmony pronounced, eliciting faint groans from the crowd at the tedious exercise. "Now, I'm sure it would be very helpful for the Messiah for you to leave in a single file and not to disturb the area."

"Actually, it would be great if they stayed," Maia interjected, a sly idea having come to her. "Since they're here, they could help me search the area for John's netset. It appears that it got detached from him before the time of his death. Finding it could reveal much about his last moments. We'll also need a few people to bring John's body back down the mountain now that I've logged his information. It would be so helpful for this group to do this... and I'm sure RajTwight would be happy to work under me to organize the search."

As Maia predicted, RajTwight immediately huffed, "What? I'm not going to do no work for the damned Messiah!"

"A good idea and a good use of resources," Harmony conceded. "RajTwight and the community will work for you to search for John's netset, may he rest in peace in Hanuman's arms." RajTwight was completely livid, but he bit his tongue, flashing angry glares at Maia. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to go to. Perhaps we can speak next time about a more judicious use of the emergency channel, Maia. Goodbye and praise Hanuman."

"Praise Hanuman! Glory to Hanuman! Mahacore!" RajTwight and the climber-pilgrims repeated as their Director's dissipated with the connection finally being broken.

Perfectly aware of the building acrimony that RajTwight was accumulating for her, and knowing that it could very well render her gains useless, Maia said authoritatively to the crowd before any excuse could be formulated,

"Thank you for your help, everyone! I'm sure you know how blessed you are to be working under the sanction of the Messiah. Let's start with John's body first. SriSharma can you grab a few people to carry John's body to the morgue? Good. As for the rest of you, I want you to divide into three groups. Everyone to my left starting here, I want to be searching the area immediately in this vicinity. Everyone to my right, I want to be searching up above as far as you can go. Everyone in front of me, I want to look below us. Since that includes you RajTwight, I'd be happy if you could lead that group and report to me with your progress. Everyone know what a netset looks like? It's small and pale beige like this," Maia showed everyone her own netset dangling from her ear. "Look carefully for it. Be aware that it's possible it's not in one piece any more. I can't detect it from my own netset so its transponder must be disabled or broken. Everyone understand? Good. Off you go. We're not leaving until we find it."

Not waiting for a reply, Maia turned her back to everyone, making a show of setting up the scanner and recorder again, and returning to examining the area, as she kept watch on SriSharma gathering people together and getting John's body ready for transport. From the corner of her eye, she saw the climbers look around in confusion, but once RajTwight turned with a snarl and stomped downhill, motioning for the group Maia had designated to follow him, it caused the other two groups to begin their assigned tasks as well. It was only then that Maia released a long exhale that she'd been holding since getting Harmony on the line.

Certainly, she knew she'd pissed the Director off by cornering her into the situation and strong-arming her into doing what she wanted of RajTwight and his climber-pilgrims; but she wasn't here to make friends with any of them. In any case, it didn't seem like there was much love lost between any of them, and, as with any of the small communities she'd visited, there were nasty internal politicking that she'd learned was very ill-advised to get involved in. Either way, Maia was happy that Harmony seemed to have a good hand on controlling the factions on the island.

Somewhat drained, Maia continued cataloging the physical evidence at the site, continuing to note that they fit within her general guess that John had fallen from a height. Oddly, as she reviewed his injuries, his face had a surprisingly small amount of cuts and bruises. Falling from a height, she expected that his face would be as battered as the rest of his body, but it seemed relatively clear except for an ugly bruise at the base of his right cheek. Maia snorted as she guessed that, vain bugger that he was, John must have done everything to protect his face as he fell. Glancing up the cliff, Maia took note of broken branches and tumbled boulders, mentally making a convincing sketch of the fall-line that John had taken.

Now if only they could get his netset, she could piece together what he was doing beforehand and simply close the case as an innocent accident; and, even if they couldn't find it, Maia was already plotting ways to quickly close the case as an accident. It was odd that John's netset had detached from his ear. They were designed to resist everything short of tsunami, as they were supposed to act as accident-recorders - something the insurance companies had set up during the pre-Liberation era. There were, however, many reasonable possibilities why it would detach that were completely innocent, including the presence of minor stresses in the structure that caused it to break off; or the possibility that the netset had received a freak detach command; or even the unlikely though possible scenario of John having taken it off himself to make a few adjustments before slipping on a rock and then falling to his death.

There were ample circumstantial accidents that could explain the netset detaching that she didn't need to speculate on any foul play. And why would she need to go down that messy path? While it did seem that John wasn't universally liked in the community, there was no reason he would murdered for simply being annoying. And why even use the terrible word "murder"? No, no one killed the little wanker; John's death was an accident, Maia said decisively to herself as she finished the scans and began accessing the reporting software on the Council site.

"Um... Madame Messiah?" a hesitant voice interrupted Maia. Looking up she met the shaky eyes of one of the climber-pilgrims who had been searching the immediate vicinity. Holding out two broken pieces of pale plastic, he said, "I think I found John's netset. Is this it?"

Maia blinked, as she took the broken netset from the climber's callused hands. "You did find it. Good work. Where was it?"

"About twenty or thirty feet along the cliff edge over there," the pilgrim said pointing to the far right. "It was wedged in a rock pit. I found it when I stepped on a slipped on a few rocks. I must have dislodged it somehow."

"Ok, thanks. What was your name?" Maia asked.

"JamieDevi," the pilgrim replied with a shy smile.

"Thank you, JamieDevi. Why don't you let the others know and you can go do your 5.8 repetitions?" Maia said sweetly. Well, maybe things were looking up for Maia after all! It looked like she may be able to close this case sooner than later!

However, as she examined the broken netset, Maia's hopes were dashed much like a delicate, overwrought toothpick sculpture being thrown over a cliff and then burned with a flame-thrower. The netset had broken cleanly apart in the middle, specifically breaking the microchips that would have run its systems, meaning that the information in John's netset was irretrievable. In itself, losing John's final recordings wasn't too bad, but when combined with the information that the breakage point could only be done with a specialized tool specifically hitting that location several times, Maia's investigation suddenly became much worse.

The broken the netset didn't just break. It had been broken--possibly by someone who had killed John. Maia's cut-and-dry accident investigation had become a murder investigation.

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# Chapter 9

The conference room was opulent with a conspicuousness that made one wonder how many creatures had been rendered extinct and how many nations had been impoverished to make the absurd wealthy statement of a room a reality. The softly-lit walls were paneled with sandalwood inset with Macassar ebony that had been sanded down and polished until it shone and glinted. Suspended along the walls were various cultural trophies, not arranged according to the culture itself, but according to its rarity, where a series of tribal masks were displayed prominently at the end of the room, but was eclipsed by a triptych of Renaissance-era paintings the public believed to have been destroyed, which were in turn upstaged by a dozen framed platinum records of rappers and pop singers in the 20th and 21st centuries.

But rarely was any of the bling spared a glance by the owner, for indeed, after their purchase and display, what other purpose did they have but to show it to others? Ironically, few entering the room had the interest or inclination to appreciate the art either, as they had their own similarly expensive collections. Instead, with single-malted, half-century old drinks in one hand as the other rested over their bulging, expensive-suited bellies, they had walked in completely absorbed in their conversations and petty rivalries as they laughed, grinned and puffed from their cigars, to finally sit down in plush calf-leather seats around a circular solid ironwood table. It was supposed to be a friendly company, but after three hours of intense discussions, the patina of mirth had long been rubbed off.

There were many servants, of course, standing demurely in the background, ready to top off any drink or satisfy any whim, but they were more likely to merely stand for the entire duration of the meeting, keeping stock still in their creamy white starched uniforms that shone with over two dozen solid gold buttons. As the host would have you note, these servants were none of the ordinary, pathetic refugees from failed states unable to keep their economies afloat in the face of the exploitative capitalism (in spite of following the recommendations of savvy, silky, convincing cabals of lawyers and bankers that lead their lands to be devastated and wrung of any valuable minerals and incapable of supporting the native population; those fuck-up indigenes washing up on to the shores in their pestilent boats were filthy, abundant, and useful only for basic menial tasks that could be easily monitored via taser-drones). No, these servants weren't refugee suckers. They were actually paid, rather than being indentured. They were properly trained man-servants: civilized, distinguished, lettered, well-mannered, with the full ability to provide intelligent conversation and the services of a sommelier, a masseuse, a tailor, a critic - and, obviously, they were all properly Caucasian and pure, and therefore trusted. Only these servants, whose training and upkeep was dreadfully expensive for all to see, were suitable for the task of attending to the most powerful corporate estate owners on the American continents - at least those that remained powerful post-Uprising (as they called the unfortunate five-year old incident).

Sitting around the table were the men who once controlled the Americas' resources, capital and labor with impunity, but whose influence had been whittled down to a fraction of what it once was. This was not a situation they approved of at all. The two representatives of the banking corporations, one from the Americas Banking Consortium and the other from the Pan Asian-American Investment Institution, were especially unhappy that the value of their capital had plummeted so drastically, particularly as the Rebels had chosen so infuriatingly to decouple completely from the monetary system. But though they were the most vocal, they were also the most irrelevant, as everyone knew their influence was largely based on the fictional numbers and algorithms that they churned out to make money arbitrarily materialize and lure the plebs into their influence. While the production of money was crucial piece in the system they represented and fought for, the true power lay with the corporate estates who could still maintain their influence over the supplies of dwindling commodities, such as water, land, and food - but which, as a result of the Uprising, have been "illegally" misappropriated from them. Indeed, a number of suits were being litigated in the International Courts, which they also controlled.

Though much of the corporate estates' power had been reduced, what they retained was kept through a combination of adequate response and suppression times, but also through the poor organization of the rebels and their so-called "Council." It was true that the Uprising had been ubiquitous and wide-spread when it happened - fueled as it was by their Messiahs' who, through a slick information campaign, had managed to inspire the poor shits. However, the level of competencies in the cities where their shenanigans occurred were uneven, many of whom had no military experience and had access to limited resources, making their suppression fairly easy, but also easy to co-opt and destroy from within. Convincing their leaders to abandon their people in exchange for the cushy life of an estate owner was a tried and true method. But, in the final tally, the corporate estates' abilities to subvert the Uprisings proved to be limited, while their European and Chinese allies, occupied with their own simmering rebellions, could do nothing to aid them.

As much as they retained the trappings of their wealth, there no denying that the results of the Uprising was infuriating and humiliating. Even the level of participation of the current meeting was an embarrassment. Previously, everyone flew out to attend in person, but this time many were forced to stay in their domains, keeping an eye on their personnel out of fear there may be betrayals and threats; too many were reduced to participating via proxybot, while holed up in their bunkers as their powerlessness boiled over. The situation was frustrating and, worst of all, emasculating in a way that laid bare their inability to respond with the force they no longer had. Indeed, an all too common outburst again interrupted the proceedings:

"Why are we not prioritizing the corn fields? This is what we agreed on last meeting!" a man's image screamed from one of the proxybots. The machine's elegant construction was a poor match for the man's portly features that encompassed the entire screen, making him look like a bobbing marshmallow in a syrup-filled glass. Pointing its robotic hand at another proxybot at the meeting, whose display showed a tired-looking pencil-thin man, Marshmallow-Face increased the volume of his speakers to scream at the thin man. "You were supposed to send me those goddamned water tankers weeks ago! I need that water! And you! I need my fertilizers to get those fields going! I need gasoline! I need more ammunition! Fuck you all! Why are you not resupplying me? We agreed that corn was critical! We need to use it to trade! We need it to feed ourselves! To feed the livestock! Do you know how much this is costing me right now? Do you have any idea?"

Many groans responded to Marshmallow-Face's proxybot badgering of Pencil-Head, as the previously orderly meeting and stultifying reports descended into chattering:

"Oh, fuck not this again."

"As if he's the only one with losses."

"Didn't we agree that water wells were crucial, not the corn?"

"Last month we did, but that changed when we diverted that river."

"How much is this fucking costing us all? Why aren't we making more progress?"

"Why the hell are we even meeting? I want my goddamned property back."

"Weren't we promised help? What the fuck is going on?"

Meanwhile, the Pencil-Head proxybot eased up from its chair, its gears whirring as it pointed its own robotic hand at its accuser. A brittle, hoarse voice crackled from its speakers, "You fool. You practically ruined us all with your idiotic little war in the corn fields. Of course I didn't send you water. You would have wasted it trying to bribe the Uprising rebels to your own cause. Do you think we don't know what you've been up to? How you've been trying to betray us and your class? You fucker. I'm stuck out at the Lakes defending my property that's completely surrounded by the fucking hippies, my water tankers are under attack every day... and you have the fucking balls to accuse me of breaking our agreement! If I weren't coordinating a counterattack now, I'd fucking fly to your fucking town and tear your balls off your fucking traitorous stinking redneck fat-ass body."

"What!? How dare you accuse me! How dare you threaten me, you fucking walking corpse! I should have you killed for slandering me! I'm going to fucking sue your bony ass," Marshmallow-Face's proxybot's screen was momentarily blurred by spit and wild head movements, as the proxybot tried to match the angry motions that were being transmitted to it. "Sure, I made deals with the rebels! It's fucking strategy, asshole! Those deals were meant to lower their defenses so I can attack them! I'll get them! You'll see! And corn is vital! Vital you hear? We need my crops! We agreed to prioritize me! Listen to me, I need those supplies sent to me within... BbbbbbbZZZT!"

Marshmallow-Face's proxybot was sharply muted, though on the screen the man could still be seen speaking earnestly and angrily, in the hopes of convincing every one of his importance - a struggle that was understandably a difficult one for him, as it was a battle that none of the people in the room were familiar with. As the proxybot quieted and settled back down into its seat, the room quieted and attention turned to a smiling, conservatively coifed, smooth-faced man who stood up and looked slowly around meeting everyone's gaze with a hand notched in the vest pocket of his fine gold-weave pin-striped suit.

"Fellow colleagues. Please do recall that we are here to solve our problems not breed them," Smooth-Face chuckled at his own joke, to which the rest of the group added their own knee-jerk I-get-jokes-in-social-contexts laugh. Making a dramatic pleading face, and extending his arms out in supplication, he said while giving the Marshmallow-Face and Pencil-Head proxybots admonishing looks, "Please do recall we have agreed to use Robert's Rules of Order for this meeting... and you know how loathe I am to override your proxybot settings, but you are participating in this meeting through the efforts that my staff has provided with my estate's proxybots, and you have signed user agreements regarding their use. I do remind you that it is within my purview to remove you from the conversation - as well as any conversation about future resource sharing - if you do not follow those agreements..." Waving away the unpleasantness of baldly asserting his authority, Smooth-Face shook his head and put on a determined look. "We have to be practical, my fellow colleagues. Practical. We must be bold and we must get what we deserve."

"Hear, hear! Yes!" polite clapping and table thumping followed Smooth-Face's mini-inspirational speech. No one - besides the people who were being overridden--cared if the proxybots were being silenced; as far as they were concerned, if they couldn't get their affairs in order well enough to be able to organize a flight over to the meeting, then their power had waned to the extent they'd become inconsequential and useless. The truth was that anyone's weakness could be an opportunity for someone to scoop up new assets.

"It is true that corn was identified as a priority last month," Smooth-Face conceded, inclining his head slightly at Marshmallow-Face, whose frozen proxybot now sagged slightly in the chair - much to the grinning pleasure of Pencil-Head, whose controls had been returned to him. "However, our successes in reclaiming the wheat and potato fronts, negated that priority, while securing our bargaining position on the overall carbohydrate front. Sadly this meant that maintaining our position in the corn fields--while we recognize how historically venerable and vital it was in the past-- it is no longer necessary. This is a fact that is extremely and very inconveniently underlined by the Uprising's increasing presence in that area where we can ill afford to move our troops. I'm sorry, but the corn estate will have to hold its position as best it can on its own; we will try to send you what aid we can when we can. Good luck."

Smooth-Face bowed slightly to Marshmallow-Face, but his politeness as well as his explanation went unheeded and unrecognized by the now completely deactivated proxybot. Sitting back down and joining his hands together in front of him, Smooth-Face gave everyone a measured look as he asked with his eyebrows elevated expectantly, "Motion to return to our previous agenda item?"

"Seconded," a handful of members said simultaneously.

"Good. As we were talking about before, we've been trying to release the funds from our discretionary international accounts, but we've been encountering additional fees," Smooth-Face said gravely. "I'm afraid that we'll have to contribute more to the group fund to make this happen. Once it does we'll be able to maintain ourselves in operation for the remainder of the year and enact our plans with our new partners."

A frigid silence replied Smooth-Face, as the tight-fisted corporate estate owners considered the request for more money. It was difficult enough to ask for money from them during the heady boom times of pre-Uprising exploitation, but now, with their fortunes fringing on worthlessness, it was nigh impossible.

Someone asked cagily, "How much?"

"Ten point two million yuan each, or a suitable amount in promissory assets," Smooth-Face answered. There was a pause before the ludicrous request caused the room to burst into angry, disorganized and definitely non-Robert's-Rules abiding behavior:

"That's fucking insane! That's a full month's operational costs for me! I can't afford that! Ridiculous!"

"Do we even know if we'll get our money? Can we trust the Chinese, damn it?"

"I don't trust this! I've dumped over five fucking million into this venture and I still don't have anything to show for it!"

"Fuck this fucking mother-fucking bullshit!"

"Will they even open the Western seaboard as they claim they will?"

"Who the fuck knows what the Chinese will do?"

"Yeah! Who's to say they won't take our money and claim they lost it?"

"Who's to say they won't? Where's our money going? Where?!"

"But they have to open it up. We're the only ones with crude left and they need our shipments. Right?"

"That's what we've been told. They need us as much as we need them. Who knows how true that is."

"The fuck do I know? This is such a waste of time. We should bomb the damned population and start over again."

"We fucking need the labor, you idiot. We have to keep them alive."

"I didn't mean all of them. Just 50% or something like that."

"And why haven't our attacks worked? Who's to blame? Why haven't our troops advanced?"

"Insane! Insane! What has our world come to? Where's our wealth? Where are our assets?"

"COLLEAGUES! PLEASE, TO ORDER!" Smooth-Face's amplified voice resonated throughout the meeting room, ending the squabbling that bordered on the hysterical. The interminable meeting--and continual series of meetings--that rarely ended in anything substantive surely contributed to the frustration in the room, not to mention the effect of the irritating conduct rules they were supposed to follow, accustomed as they were to leading their own meetings of people who weren't peers, but employees, sycophants and generally those who depended on their favor.

In a larger, more existential sense (something their expensive, revolving-door therapists would note in their heads, but never mention), the frustration was a result of their very positions being threatened by the unpredicted success of the Uprising. Raised as they were amid privileged, unquestionable wealth, the feelings of insecurity and powerlessness were completely foreign to them... so who can blame them for lashing out as a result? After the first few weeks of having the presumptuous rabble rise on them, they'd thought it was a temporary thing, easily manageable; so they paid the Uprising little heed and continued to enjoy the earthly pleasures they'd given themselves. But as the weeks stretched into months and years, and former colleagues' fortunes collapsed, even as their countermeasures only slowed the attacks and didn't reverse them, the horror of the new reality sunk in: the Uprising had changed the world order and their position at the top was no longer a given. Horrifying.

When a grumbling order returned after the brief venting of the corporate estate owners' overripe spleens, Smooth-Face continued,

"I understand your concerns regarding our accounts. I have personally received complete assurances from our Chinese bankers that our financial assets will be honored. We all know they have their own problems, and they cannot and will not allow the same madness that happened to us to happen to them! Besides, we all know how much more proficient they are at controlling unruly workforces... and while this was planned for a later agenda item, I'm pleased to announce that the Chinese are sending over five teams of military specialists to improve our troops' training." Half-hearted clapping replied the tepid news; this wasn't the first time that there had been military advisors sent over - and each time they'd been richly charged for their services, and with not a great deal to show for it.

"Returning to the matter at hand, I cannot stress how much we need our funds to be released. My personnel have been telling me that the number of people leaving our ranks has been increasing every day... I know it's a distasteful, impossible thing to understand why they would betray us and go for the stupid nonsense of the Uprising, but we have to admit it is happening. Our resources are visibly dwindling and we need a way to keep them with us. With our new funds we'll be able to purchase the compulsion bands that will eliminate forever any risk of betrayal. We've all seen how effective they are. Our militia would surge forward without any hesitation and they'd follow our every order to the letter. It's what we need to get our edge over the Uprising and finally bring them to heel. Now, if you'll transfer your funds to the regular account..."

A heavy fist crashed onto the table, causing the glasses on the table to wobble and everyone to jump slightly in their chairs. The startling, gigantic fist, strong enough to disturb the ironwood table, belonged to a massive man, whose proportions were possible through a painful series of surgical enhancements typical of high-end mercenaries or, in this case, bodyguards. This bodyguard, in turn, was owned by a slim, young red-haired fellow, seemingly no older than his late teens.

The young redhead, lounging impudently with his legs cocked on the table, said in a contemptuous voice, "Fuck this shit! I'm not approving any goddamned transfer."

Smooth-Face tried to mask his flusteredness with irritation: "Sir, you are speaking out of turn. The rules of this meeting..."

"Fuck your fucking rules," Redhead-Boy swore.

"Sir, you are a guest here and I..."

"Shut the fuck up. I don't answer to any of you. My family owns more assets than all of you combined. You guys fucked up by not planning ahead. My family did plan. And we kept what we have by automating our operations instead of relying on more cheap labor as you did. We don't need you, but you need us. You still think I'm going to follow your fucking Robert's Rules?" Redhead-Boy sneered at Smooth-Face as he underlined the uncomfortable truth of his dominance over all of them.

His estate represented the protein slurry factories perched on the Gulf that churned out the pale yellow gunk that was used as filler for nearly every industry; it was a product on which everyone depended on to feed their labor and livestock. To be frank, it was a product that everyone tried not too much to think about, as it was the result of a series of automated siphons and vats that recycled sludge and cultivated bacteria that was then centrifuged into essential amino-acid cakes. It was a stinking, gross, distasteful business that no one wanted to be involved with. Since the practice was considered to be repulsive, Redhead-Boy's estate had long ago designed their factories and distribution network to be independent of labor, which meant that he of all the estate and corporate owners had been relatively immune to the effects of the Uprising.

Redhead-Boy asked Smooth-Face point-blank: "I want to know when we can open the markets on the Western coast again. I'm tired of relying on the fucking Arctic pass. You said you had a plan. You said we had new fucking partners. You said that you were on it. Well? Are you? Give us a goddamned report on that!"

Grumpy growls and comments agreed with Redhead-Boy as Smooth-Face shifted in his chair, and held out his hands to quiet everyone. Seeing that he had no choice, he said primly,

"Yes, the report on the Western Front Messiah Initiative was going to be the next agenda item, but I suppose we can consider the current item closed and move to it. Regarding our operation on the Western coast, we have received notice that there has been the expected reaction to our actions and..."

"Did they fucking send the fucking Messiah or not!?" Redhead-Boy snarled impatiently.

"Yes, they did, and now we have to..." Smooth-Face said patiently.

"What the fuck is going on there? Why the fuck can't we invade, goddamn it? We need to open that goddamned fucking route!" Redhead-Boy yelled.

"As I was saying," Smooth-Face snipped. "We have to wait on the necessary procedures to be taken. Our partners are in play, as the Messiah needs to finish her investigation. Her acts and decisions will influence the success of our next steps on the Western front."

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# Chapter 10

Maia was having a hard time deciding. Should she go for the blue, sashy dress that kind of made her look like a sexy, gauzy fairy, but that overly accentuated her thin hips? Or should she go for more the staid and practical orange skirt and purplish blouse that was nicely cut, but that was really meant for someone who had actual cleavage? Or maybe she should go for the one she was currently trying on, a sparkly, bedazzled deep red short-cut summery dress that cheerfully flipped and flashed as she sashayed back and forth?

Looking critically at herself in the mirror, she swapped the dresses back and forth in front of her, unable to decide, though she was leaning a smidge towards the bedazzled red dress. The problem was that, if she were really honest with herself, how often would she have the opportunity to sashay at all, let alone wear it? It wasn't like the Liberation society, nearly unable to feed and clothe itself, was filling up her social calendar with exciting parties and soirees.

"You look really great in that, you know. That red is your color for sure," the stall-owner said, slowly moving her gaze up and down Maia, as she stepped closer to straighten a few pleats and tugged gently at the dress to reposition it. While the stall-owner was likely on the young side--Maia guessed her to be in her early thirties, judging from her general demeanor and physique--her sun-leathered face, creased and lined like a onion forgotten at the back of the fridge, made her look more like she was in her fifties and sixties. It was probably why the woman's features were distracted by a cheerful crown of daisies and a number of grimy feathers and faded beads woven into her flaxen hair.

"Yeeeeaaaah..." Maia replied, spinning around again and craning her head left and right to see if her backside was looking the way she wanted. She was also trying her best not to stare at the woman's weather-beaten features that she found depressing and a paranoid reminder that she wasn't getting any younger. Sure, this was how "nature" meant for people to age, just as it was supposedly "natural" to decay into a hideous crone; but then again, Maia was grateful that she'd retained her supply of facial cream and sunblock. So long as she able to, she was going to keep herself as hot and appealing as she could--and potentially with the help of this cute dress that hugged her ass just the right way. "I love this one. I really do. But I don't know if I have the room for it. My quarters back in Vancouver aren't that big, and I've already gone over my limit of shoes and clothes. My biggest worry... is that I can't think of time to wear it... Hmmm... Hmmm... but it's soooo nice..."

"Sweetie, you can always find room for a dress," the stall-owner pshawed, tapping Maia's arm. "And besides, you can always wear it for the Solstice Celebration! All of Salt Spring is going to be there! It's our biggest celebration! It's the perfect time to wear it! Yay! It'll be so fun! You'll love it!"

Maia took a half step back, wishing that she had a way to dial down the woman's bubbliness, but felt her rubber arm being twisted as the Solstice Celebration presented itself as a convenient reason to buy the dress. After all, Jamie had told her to fit in, right? As far as she could tell, the celebration was some kind official social gathering where she would be representing the Council as the Messiah, and so she would have to look presentable. Surely too, the dress was something she could put on her expense claims.

Effectively convincing herself, Maia forced out a light giggle, "Well... if there's a big celebration coming up, I guess I have to get this dress. How much is it?"

"No charge! Please! It's yours! You can have it!" the stall-owner cried out, smiling terribly brightly in spite of her stained, yellowed teeth.

"No charge? You can't just give it to me," Maia said with a frown, a little disappointed she wouldn't be putting her haggling skills to use. Then she realized that the woman may be thinking that she didn't have any money and was a charity case, something Maia's pride could never countenance, so she said slightly defensively, "I'm happy to pay, you know. My money is good. I have actual Council-issued credits and vouchers, so if you're thinking..."

"Nonononononononono!" the woman refused mightily, flinging her hands in front of her and shaking them at a remarkably high frequency. "I wouldn't have it! I couldn't possibly accept anything from a Messiah. It would be my honor if a Messiah wore one of my dresses!"

Ah. That's what this was about. Maia had hoped to shop at the market anonymously, but she guessed that, though she had nothing on her that actually indicated that she was a Messiah (it wasn't as if she had ceremonial robes or a facial tattoo... both of which had been briefly considered by the Council and discarded), she figured that her image had already been circulated in the local vidstreams. Most likely, someone recognized her on the way to the market and tagged her, letting everyone know she was on the way. It was annoying. As much as possible, Maia tried to remain anonymous if she didn't have any official events to attend. The main thing Maia wanted to avoid was any of the nonsense rituals that the locals often requested of her. Traveling into the uncivilized boonies, she'd had her share of unfortunate baptisms over beds of nettles and mass polyamorous wedding ceremonies in frigid genital-shrinking ocean waters.

Fortunately, this stall-owner didn't seem about to ask her to do anything kooky, and was in fact offering her this lovely dress gratis. Maia thanked her slowly, still uncertain if it was a trap about to be sprung,

"Why thank you. I would really appreciate this. The Council of course would really appreciate this too. Are you sure you don't want any compensation? Is there anything I can do?"

"Oh, no! No compensation! But..." the woman said, as Maia braced herself and readied some stock-excuses. "...if you wouldn't mind telling people that the dress you're wearing is mine, then that would help me. If people knew a Messiah liked my dresses..."

"Of course, of course! I would love to," Maia said, relieved that that's all the woman wanted; sponsorship was an easy quid pro quo she could understand. It was mildly against the rules of Messiah conduct, but it was something she knew the Council never actively enforced. "And your name is 'Winged Cloths' is that right?"

"'Feathered Wings Fabrics'," the woman corrected pleasantly with an eager smile, as she stepped forward--and before Maia could do anything--gave her tight, air-expelling hug.

"'Feather Wings Fabrics', I got it. I'll be sure to tell people," Maia said easily, doing her best suppress her urge to flinch away during the uninvited physical affection. "Now, if you don't mind, I'll change out of this for now..."

As Maia disengaged herself from the clingy stall-owner and wriggled back behind the suspended cloth that provided a minimum of privacy for the "change-room," she realized that she was enjoying herself and even felt her worries lift off her mind, in spite of her previous desire not too long ago to brood and sulk. Though she'd completely recorded John's evidence site and used RajTwight's horde of climber-pilgrims to sweep the rest of the area (and in so doing humiliating RajTwight, which brought her some degree of pleasure), finding John's netset had been more than a little troubling.

Maia had been set to close John's case and call it a simple accident, including even the most likely scenario of his fall and how he got there. But the netset, damaged in a way that could only have been intentional, prevented her from ending her investigation. As she had stared at the netset pieces, neatly split open with very sharp and specific edges, Maia had cursed numerous times as she tried desperately to determine a reasonable way that would explain how the netset could have broken open. Maybe through a freak accident--or maybe John was busy repairing the netset, while perched precariously on a cliff with a hundred-foot drop and somehow he slipped and fell? But there was no accidental scenario that made any sense. Damn you, John! Why couldn't this be a simple investigation? Why couldn't he have the decency to die cleanly and without any problems? Now she had to stay on this freaky, climbing cultist-filled island and do actual investigating? How irritating.

SriSharma, seeing Maia's ill temper storming across her face, had made the suggestion that he take her to the Ganges Farmers' Market, which was, as he explained in stuttering fits, a "historically accurate farmer and artisan market" that had "unique, local creations from skilled craftspeople" and that it also helped "support the local Salt Spring community." Having heard similar jargon many times before, Maia was skeptical of SriSharma's little market, however historical or accurate. More often than not, these markets were little more than glorified junk heaps, albeit slightly more organized and certainly more expensive than going to the actual junk heap. Typically, most of what was sold was leftover knick-knacks and unusable gizmos from pre-Liberation times that no one had any use for. With everyone equally poor and struggling to feed themselves rather than decorate their walls, to whom would craftspeople be selling their fancy, pointless art pieces? Nevertheless, in spite of her misgivings, Maia realized that a break might be a good idea, as she was not quite ready to dive into the messiness that John's death awaited her. Maia agreed to go, grudgingly following him to hike down into the town's cutesy harbor where the market was being held.

But when they got to the market, Maia was very pleasantly surprised. Expecting to find a few sad re-purposed emergency refugee tents huddling together with a handful of aimless people wandering around without anything better to do, Maia instead encountered a series of colorful, inviting tents, precisely arranged in rows where the vendors faced each other and formed a cozy, crowded, yet jovial maze-like passageway in which shoppers and visitors could amble around. Most surprisingly, the atmosphere was downright festive, with lively music being strummed on banjos and drums on every corner, while buskers twirled sticks, jumped through hoops and performed magic tricks to wide-eyed children. On top of that, wafting in the area were even the delicious aromas of home-cooked treats both sweet and savory.

It was a bona fide market! A real market where there were real goods being offered! It took some time for Maia to adjust to the amazing sight that she hadn't seen in nearly five years, but as she wandered through the cheerful stalls, gazing appreciatively at the hand-crafted jewelry, pottery and inventive artwork, and accepting delicious samples from food vendors, she wondered what the Salt Spring Directorate was doing right to be making this happen. Not only that, Maia wondered why she hadn't heard of this market sooner? Success stories that weren't obviously construed were rare on the intranet these days, so surely figuring out what the Directorate did was something that the Council should spread among the other struggling communities. Perhaps staying on the island for a smidge longer might not be such a bad idea, especially as it might give her some inkling of what could be done to revive their society--and while she was at it, she might replenish her wardrobe as well as nab some facial creams.

As Maia stepped out of the stall, happily patting her bag in which she'd stashed her new dress, she came to a halt, and practically flew back into the stall when she noticed SriSharma nervously chatting with Mark. The Directorate member was dapperly dressed with a Tilley-hat on his in head and upon whose arm was lightly leaning a similarly smartly dressed fortyish woman, wearing a demurely elegant ensemble. Maia had of course expected SriSharma to be out there, as he'd insisted on following her and doggedly offering to carry her bags (even though he was already carrying her heavy bag of gear). But, meeting a Directorate member and having to engage in potentially politically charged pleasantries was not within her goals or interests at this moment. Yet, this was her job, and so Maia put on her best Messiah smile and stepped out into the open, saying,

"Hello, Mark. I take it you're enjoying the market as well?"

"Maia! Excellent! I'm happy that SriSharma brought you here," Mark beamed, as he clapped SriSharma's shoulder. Seamlessly turning to the woman by his side, he said, "I don't believe you've met my partner, Elaine."

"It's my pleasure to meet you," Maia said, extending her hand to Elaine, who, as she clasped the woman's soft hand, discovered she had remarkably fine skin in addition to having a healthy gloss to her thick, dark hair; Maia made a mental note to ask the woman later what her tricks were in the post-Revolution cosmetic desert.

"Not. At. All. The pleasure is mine. We've heard so much of you. It's such an honor to meet you, Maia," Elaine said sweetly in a perfectly modulated voice that effused sincerity. "And are you enjoying yourself at our market?"

"Yes, I am. I'm also very happy that SriSharma brought me here," Maia said, nodding in the blushing man's direction. "Coming here was just what the doctor ordered."

"Oh? Were you having difficulties with the investigation?" Mark asked casually, his brow arched.

Maia clenched her jaw, not liking how easily he'd read her subtext, but before Maia could reply, Elaine chided Mark as she squeezed his arm,

"Now, Mark. You know that she's not allowed to say anything about an ongoing investigation." With an apologetic look to Maia, she said, while affecting an exasperated sigh, "He's so inquisitive you know. I have to put up with this all the time. Please forgive him for being nosy about John. His passing is terrible, so terrible. We all knew John wasn't the best climber, Hanuman bless his soul, but even so when these accidents happen, it's so tragic. I'm sure you've heard this many times already, but we're so happy when we heard you were coming to help us with John's rather... unpleasant affair." Elaine pursed her lips, then smiled brightly. "But let's forget that for now. I'm so happy you're enjoying yourself at our market! We shop here every week. You know, we do all our shopping at the market. It's so wonderful to support our local economy,"

Appreciating Elaine's smooth intervention and allowing the conversation to be navigated to less stressful territory and to much more idle chit-chat, Maia replied, "Really? I have to say I'm impressed by this market. There really is no equivalent to it in Vancouver. I think the last markets were in the Pre-Liberation era when people could afford high end things."

"Oh, yes. We're very proud of our market. It wasn't easy to set up," Mark said with a deliberately thoughtful look. "You know, the key is for people to be willing to spend their wealth and not hoard it in these difficult times. Assets have to circulate or else they'll stagnate! It took a lot of convincing, but ultimately we managed to release the store of capital here on the island, and this is the result. A thriving local economy that's fully self-sustaining!"

"Amazing, just amazing," Maia giving the expected response as well as an awestruck head shake. "It's something I'll have to tell the Council. Maybe they'll be able to institute something like this in Vancouver."

"Perhaps, perhaps," Mark replied non-commitally with a sly grin Maia couldn't interpret.

"Oh, don't mind him, Maia. Mark is such a sourpuss sometimes. It's just that Salt Spring is pretty unique... but it's worth a try to tell the Council, isn't it?" Elaine said ever-so-brightly, and changed the topic with, "Did you find anything nice to take with you? We have such wonderful artisans here."

Clearly catching Elaine's cue that serious talk was over - as well as Mark's slight but noticeable step away as he adopted a glazed look that said I'm-holding-my-wife's-purse-as-she-socializes - Maia allowed herself to go into some expected inane chatter and platitudes:

"Why yes! I found a cute dress from this store right here!"

"Ooooo... Feathered Wings Fabrics? Yes, she's wonderful, isn't she? What did you get?"

"It's a lovely red dress covered in sequins, but let me show you here..."

"My! Isn't that perfect on you! You must, you simply must wear at the Solstice Celebration!"

"Well, we'll see. I thought it would be a good occasion to wear it."

"But of course! You'll be dazzling with it on!"

"Oh, it's alright, I guess..."

"Nonsense! It's beautiful! I'll be it fits wonderfully on you too."

"It definitely makes everything look much nicer than I remember."

"Don't be silly. I'm sure it brings out your natural figure."

"I don't know about that..."

"I'm telling you! Everyone knows Feathered Wings has the best-cut dresses... but I wouldn't be able to wear it like you."

"What? Of course you can! I'm sure you'd look great in a dress like that."

"No, no, maybe years ago. Now? It would be embarrassing..."

"Nooooooo... I can just tell you would look great. Maybe next time we should shop together!"

"Hahahaha... I'd like that. That would be so fun. But did you see the farmer's market? You really can't miss that."

"No! I haven't had a chance yet. It's been so distracting here..."

"I know what you mean! I know what you mean! But they've got such unique vegetables."

"Well, I'll go straight there then! It's been so wonderful, so wonderful being here..."

Eager to bring the social dance to a close, Maia exchanged a few more pleasantries, being sure to make a few with Mark, who readily answered with equally vapid, but acceptable commentary. With etiquette satisfied, they bid each other farewell, traded light hugs, after which Maia all but dragged SriSharma away, who hadn't followed the conversation very well, and whose eyes began to have the qualities of a dead fish.

The conversation had gone well, Maia knew: she'd successfully navigated away from sensitive topics, while still maintaining pleasant relations with the locals. This kind of social finessing was what she excelled at and used to great effect in every community she went to. It was these same skills that she prided herself on that made the communities she visited view with all the awe and respect that a Messiah was due... So why did she feel angry? Why did she feel as if she'd been the one who had been navigated around instead of the other way around? Hadn't Maia been in control? Wasn't she the one who brought the conversation to an end? Surely, that was the case. And yet, Maia was left with an uneasy feeling that she was no longer the one directing the events - and that not only angered her, but infuriated her.

However, even as she processed the experience in her mind, and absentmindedly browsed the store-owners' wares, loud yelling interrupted her thoughts. A few stalls ahead, a naked woman, her skin deeply browned by the sun and with dark, brittle hair that was clumpily dreaded, was yelling angrily at a man Maia took a few moments to recognize as Rene. His face was contorted in frustration, with tears streaming from his eyes, as he argued with the woman. In between them was a tanned young boy, no more than six years old, wearing a pair of holey underwear, while the rest of his clothes lay in shreds on the ground around him.

The naked woman was waving her arms at Rene, screaming, "Look at what you've done to him, Rene! I told you that Tyler is not part of your civilization! He's not! He belongs to the Holy Earth Mother!"

"Liza, please. We agreed he would wear clothes when he was with me," Rene said impatiently, his voice elevated.

"I meant a loin-cloth at most! Not these... these... signs of oppression!" Liza cried, making a show of stomping on the clothes and spitting on them. "What will they say about him at the Communal Devotional tomorrow, Rene? I told you how many problems this causes me!"

"Oh, for fuck's... They're just clothes! That's all they are!" Rene sighed to the sky. "And no one will say anything at the Devotional, ok? Everyone knows we have joint custody of Tyler."

"I've had enough of this! I'll have nothing to do with your sacrilegious world!" Liza screamed.

"Oh, come on... not this again! I've had to make this arrangement! I told you!" Rene groaned, slapping his forehead.

"Everyone here! Everyone! It sickens me! Remember the Holy Earth Mother! Remember Her Voice!" Liza pointed at everyone threatingly.

"Don't give me that! I know about that! Remember, I was the one who introduced the ReWilding to you!" Rene said angrily.

"And then you betrayed us! Went to your fancy pants Hanuman!" Liza mocked.

"It's not like that and you know it!" Rene growled.

Not surprisingly, a crowd had begun to form around them, but still gave them a wide berth, not wanting to get in the way of the angry, yelling couple and their child custody battle. However, feeling some sympathy for Rene and also not thrilled at public screaming in general, Maia waited for the best opportunity to cut in. Finally seeing a good moment as the yelling seemed to subside into angry glares and slightly less animated gesticulations, she waded through the crowd and said loudly, with her most severe and serious Messiah expression:

"In my capacity as the Messiah and the keeper of the peace, I order you to stop. I will be happy to mediate in this..."

But Maia had misjudged the situation, and suddenly Rene's hand, which had been waving in the air, flung around at her and whacked her across the face, stunning her and momentarily making the world flash away.

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# Chapter 11

A constellation of flashing spots was all Maia could see for minute, as she blinked and shook her head, trying to orient herself again. One minute she was attempting to break up a fight, and the next she was on the ground, with a gaggle of faces thrust into her space asking nonsensical questions, while a myriad of hands probed her. It didn't help very much that she couldn't hear very much with her ears ringing, not to mention the sudden burst of incoherent screaming that followed soon after Rene had smacked her across the face. The hit was far from serious - it had stunned Maia more than anything - but it was a glancing blow that connected and made an alarming slapping sound that surprised and freaked out everyone far more than necessary, which in itself was annoying, but also revealed how non-anonymous Maia had been in the market all along:

"The Messiah is hit! Someone get help!"

"Bring the medkit! Emergency! Help the Messiah!"

"Is there blood? I want to help but I can't deal with blood!"

"I can do energy work! I need to get my crystals! Where are my vibrations?"

"She's injured? She's being attacked? Is the Messiah being attacked? God help us all!"

"What? What's happening? We're being attacked? Is this an attack?"

"Who did this? We have to help the Messiah! She's our savior!"

"What's going on? Are the estate troops are coming back? Are they attacking the Messiah?"

"Some tried to kill the Messiah! It's the troopers! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

"Where's our militia? Where's security? Why isn't anything happening?"

"We don't have a militia anymore! The Council disbanded them all. Shit! We're doomed!"

"This is why we should have our own militia! Our own militia would protect the Messiah!"

"Oooooohhhh Gooooood!!!!!! The world is ennnnnnnndiiiiiing!"

Amidst the pointless panic, SriSharma and Rene were heroically trying to calm everyone down with rational explanations of what happened - all of which were bouncing ineffectually off the panicked mood. Meanwhile, there was no sight of the naked woman Rene had been arguing with, nor of the child they'd been yelling over. Maia, who'd fallen to the ground as a result of the surprise of the blow which caused her to trip over her feet, was finally able to shake the last of the ringing from her ears, and stood up, waving away the people around her. Trying herself to calm the mood of the crowd, Maia yelled over the din, but to no avail; no one could hear her over their frantic paranoid conversations about the imminent apocalypse.

Clearly, yelling wasn't going to be effective. With no other options, Maia resorted to the method she knew would be effective in shutting people up, but that she was loathe to use even though she was entirely within her rights to. Bowing her head and raising her arms into the air, Maia stood silently and immobile. It was a trick she'd used a few times while trying to quell unruly crowds in the boonie communities; for some reason, the sight of the Messiah beckoning people to join her in prayer was arresting and irresistible. In the case of the Salt Springers currently flipping out around Maia, it was possible they were too far gone into the hysteria or they were more sophisticated to fall for her Messiah body-language cues - but she doubted it. Till now, she'd not met any mob who wouldn't be swayed by the sight of a sacred-looking image.

Sure enough, as Maia stood there, people began to notice her and quiet down.

"It's the Messiah! She's standing! She's ok!"

"AAAAAAA! We're all going to... Wait, what?"

"What's going on? Is it a trick? I thought we're mobilizing, right? Aren't we mobilizing?"

"Her arms are up. Why are they up? Is she surrendering to the corporate estates? Oh, my god! Is that it?"

"What the hell are you on? There's no one here, you idiot. No one's attacking anyone."

"But someone attacked her, right? Is that what went down? Is it an assassin? A sniper?"

"Everyone's fine, for god's sake! Fine! We're all fine!"

"So the Messiah isn't dead? What's she doing then?"

"She's praying! Praying for our souls. Bless her!"

"I still don't get it... Are we fighting or not?"

"Will you shut up? Stand and be silent!"

When at last the crowd was silent, Maia waited for the count of ten, taking deep breaths, until she was absolutely sure no other flare-ups would happen. Opening her eyes and lowering her arms, Maia saw that everyone had taken a similar pose as her, with their arms outstretched and head bowed. She never knew what she was going to see when she opened her eyes again after playing the Messiah-in-prayer card: sometimes people prostrated themselves in front of her, other times they stood with their hands clasped in front of their groins, and on one memorable occasion, the crowd had elected to respond with headstands.

Briefly tempted to run away with everyone not looking at her and leave them standing with their arms up, Maia instead said,

"My dear friends, all is well. There is no cause for alarm. No one is attacking us. Blessed be this community. We are all unharmed here. I, Maia Lam, Messiah of the Revolution #3049, do tell you so," Maia put on her most saintly smile, as she spoke in a slow, meaningful voice and hyper-enunciated every word. "Blessed be this community. Blessed be those who are vigilant and who will protect us from harm. Blessed be the peace in our hearts. May we all retain it forevermore." It was the generic lines that people expected, but it appeased them. Sensing that the hysteria bubble had been burst, Maia brought her hands together in prayer to everyone and said, "Thank you for your time and attention, my friends. Let us continue on our regular business. Praise the Liberation."

"Praise the Liberation!" the crowd repeated rapturously, and went back to what they were doing before, chatting among themselves, while speculating about what had happened. Many still had the alarmed look of being on edge, but perhaps this was to be expected after having survived difficult battles that caused varying symptoms of PTSD. With the crowd dispersing, Maia could finally relax - which wasn't to say that she was comfortable; if the last few minutes proved anything, she was still being scrutinized and the Messiah-show was still on.

A gentle hand clasped Maia's elbow, and as she turned around to disengage herself, she stopped as she met Rene's worried face, which projected both mortification and embarrassment.

"Maia, I am so sorry. Are you ok? I can't believe I... I just don't know... I'm so sorry I hit you," Rene said shaking his head. "SriSharma went to get a medkit and I don't know when he'll be back... I'm so so sorry. I didn't see you there. It's my fault, it's my fault. I should have looked around. I can't believe I hit you..."

Entirely not in the mood for groveling, Maia squeezed Rene's forearm - noticing appreciatively as she did so, how muscular they were - as she said with tight smile, "Rene, I'm fine. It's all good. It was an accident and I should have been more careful." Pleased to see his expression change to grateful relief, Maia added, while lowering her voice, "Maybe we can talk about this with fewer people around? Maybe so that there'll be less chance of us starting another riot?"

"Oh, I right, of course. Yeah, let's see..." Rene blinked, then put on his attractive lop-sided grin as he understood Maia. "Let's go to Aidan's stall. He's usually got lots of space, and my stuff's also there since I had to leave my bags when Liza showed up and... er... stuff happened."

"Liza? The naked woman?" Maia asked, trying to sound casual, remembering now how the silliness started - and wondering how intimate they might be, while also mentally comparing her own unclothed proportions to Liza's. "The one with the child?"

"My son, Tyler," Rene explained with a quick smile, but that was immediately erased by, "The naked woman is my ex-tribal mate... ah, that is, ex-wife or partner. I used to be a ReWilder like her in Stefan's clan."

"You? Really? Naked all the time?" Maia exclaimed, as her mind raced to imagine Rene's heavily tanned figure prancing in the woods - which would have been a more welcome sight than Stefan's feral introduction to the ReWilding movement.

"Yeah, yeah, I was naked all the time... don't laugh, ok? I'm a little embarrassed by it," Rene sighed. "It sounded like a great idea at the time. Stefan's really convincing, you know, and the community and ceremonies were great, but one thing they don't tell you before you join is how much freaking poison ivy and stinging nettles they are here - which don't mix very well with stark bare genitals, I can tell you that."

Maia couldn't contain her laughter at that, and Rene joined in with some half-hearted chuckles and reflexive scratching and grimacing. "Right. Ha ha. Later, I joined the Hanuman climbing community, and she never forgave me for it even if it's been a few years. I hear she's with someone other guy now... Anyway, the point is that we have shared custody of Tyler, so every second week there's a time we have to meet, but it's usually not this bad..."

A jovial voice interjected from beneath one of the tents, "Impressive show, Rene! Gotta say, you and Liza did manage to draw in a good crowd. I didn't get too many sales though." It was a man dressed in full farmer regalia, including thick overalls and a straw hat, holding out a number of heavy-looking canvas bags in front of him. "Good thing you're coming back here so I can give you your bags. Otherwise, I'd have to go to the climbing community myself to drop your produce... and you know how much I enjoy going up to visit you climbing nuts and your Hanuman. Looks like SriSharma scampered off, so he won't be able to help you, though being useless is pretty par for the course for the guy."

"Oh hey, Aidan. Thanks for keeping my bags for me. Oh, lay off SriSharma. The guy's got enough going on for him," Rene replied, accepting his bags from the farmer.

"Who else is going to give him a hard time if I don't?" Aidan grinned, reaching for more bags under the table and passing it to Rene. "I know him. He could have done something about you and Liza but he just stood around with his thumb up his ass. Pretty impressive show, I gotta say."

Rene shook his head unbelievingly, agreeing, "Yeah, it was a bad one. Sorry about the crowd. I know it couldn't have helped sales to have Liza and me causing a scene..."

"Ah, forget about it. The market's about to end anyway, so folks weren't buying much," Aidan waved away. Sure enough, as Maia looked around, the crowd had thinned considerably, and there were only a handful of people in total lingering as they chatted leisurely with stall-keepers, many of whom were starting to pack their wares away and take down their tents. Aidan, whose tables seemed mostly empty except for a few sad-looking vegetables that didn't get sold, seemed to be in no rush to leave as he continued bantering with Rene, "I'm sorry for you, buddy. I knew you and Liza don't get along, but that was pretty ridiculous."

Rene released a big sigh, "It seems like it's getting worse every time we meet. And Tyler's just getting harder to manage when he comes backs from her and the ReWilders. Could you believe he bit a chunk out of my hand? I still have the scars from that bugger." Rene held up his hand, but then looked over to Maia and cut his venting short with introductions instead: "Oh, forget it. Let's not get into that. I should introduce you. Maia, this is Aidan Johnson. He's one of the best farmers on the island and the Hanuman climbing community gets most of our produce from them. Aidan, this is..."

"Jesusfuck, dude. Are you really going to try to introduce the Messiah to me?" Aida laughed, and held out his hand to Maia. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Madame Messiah. I'm glad you could see our dog and pony show."

"Likewise, Aidan. Please call me Maia," Maia grinned, quite liking the refreshing the casualness of the man. Staring at his lined, tired features, something about him seemed terribly familiar, making Maia stare at him in silence for a few uncomfortable seconds until it hit her: "Hey, wait a minute. Don't I know you? I knew you looked familiar! Weren't you that guy John had interviewed about the permaculture and urban farming thing? That video was everywhere for a long time."

Aidan groaned and hung his head in shame, "Oh, fuck. Yeah. That. I remember that dumb-ass bullshit. John sure did a number on me. The fallout from John's little expose was brutal. Do you remember that, Rene? That was exciting, wasn't it? "

"Yeah, I do. Very exciting," Rene muttered mirthlessly, looking uncomfortable.

"I nearly got run off the island for John's piece! Could you believe it?" Aidan growled, still smiling but with the dark and bitter undercurrent of an unresolved transgression. "After all the work I put in to this community, building this market, trying to get changes done in the way we do things here for a true sustainable future - and fucking nothing. No one came to defend me. Not even the other farmers came to help. Everything I did was worthless apparently. They were prepared to do the fuck knows what to me. Unfuckingbelievable. I had to go on the goddamned run! You should have seen what they did to my house and equipment when I was gone."

"Which was repaired, when you explained everything," Rene hastened to add, glancing at Maia and smiling uncomfortably. "And you can't blame the other farmers. They had to wait for due process and couldn't take sides."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeeeeeah. I get it. I get why the farmers didn't help. I'd probably would've been too scared shitless to help if I'd been in their situation. And sure my farm was repaired and returned to me... after waiting months of lobbying the Directorate. But then again, they couldn't do anything about my fields and crops that were ruined for that year. Because of that, I lost my contracts for a full year before I could be financially secure again," Aidan spat. Apparently, the fuck-it-all switch had been clicked on in him.

Giving Maia a hard, focused stare, he said. "I'm actually real happy you're here, Maia. Having you here should keep things civil." Waving his arms around the emptying market, he added, "We've got this bullshit to play act around, but we all know it's for show. One little tear and it'll all go to shit. I'm the living example of that. I know how lucky I was to get out with my skin and my living. You should have seen John's other interviews..."

"John made other interviews?" Maia asked. This was news to her. She'd always thought Aidan's was the only one after which John switched to his regular stupid show.

"Hell yeah! He did a whole fucking series called the Noble Salt Springer!" Aidan said, craning his head up and splaying his arms wide out at an imaginary marquee sign. "They were supposed to air everywhere on intranet. Didn't you see them?"

"No, actually, this is the first I heard of them..." Maia said frowning.

"Hey listen, we'd better go," Rene interrupted, grabbing hold of Maia's arm. "It's getting late and Aidan's got to pack up and I have to get this produce to the coolers."

"Riiiiighht, hot shot. Riiiiight... you just want this lovely lady to yourself!" Aidan teased, shooting Rene with dual air finger-guns while giving Maia a wink that brought heat to her face.

"Why, yes, how did you guess?" Rene laughed, but nevertheless hooked his arm around Maia's waist and started to pull her away, which Maia allowed to happen, distracted by the comforting presence holding her. "Seriously, I've got a lot to carry, and I can use her help. Do you mind Maia?"

"Huh? No, of course not," Maia said automatically, accepting a few bags that Rene was holding out to her. She wasn't the most suited for manual labor, but carrying a few bags was something she could handle, especially if it would be getting her away from an intense conversation.

Waving goodbye to Aidan, Maia began walking away with Rene through the remains of the market. Without even noticing - managing a crowd on the brink of explosion may have something to do with it - the afternoon had already begun to cool into the early evening. As with everywhere else in the newly Liberated society, reliable electricity was sparse, such that the setting of the sun meant the effective end of everyone's activities and people had to get back to the comfort of their homes. It was either that or stumble home in the dark. With the longer summer daylight, Maia could see that people weren't as rushed to get their gear and wares packed into their various modes of transportation that ranged from rickshaws and bicycles adapted with trolleys on one end to wind-up solar-electric cars with just enough horsepower to carry a person with a very limited load.

Rene's own vehicle was a beat-up mini-truck whose greasy, rancid over-fried odors indicated that it was one of the few remaining vehicles that still functioned off of reclaimed oil. The back already had a bunch of bags and containers bursting with supplies and odds and ends and strapped down with a variety of slings, bungees and ratchet-straps. As if realizing how ridiculous his truck looked, he flashed Maia a goofy, adorably bashful look, as he reached out for the bags Maia had been carrying and wedged them between a few totes.

"That should hold them," Rene said, shrugging and dusting off his hands with satisfaction. "We don't have that far to go to get back to the community, and this old truck can't go that fast anyway. No idea if it'll get up the hill with the two of us though. Hope you're good with pushing."

"You're kidding, right?" Maia frowned, trying to read Rene's expression.

"No, not really. I'm actually not sure how much weight the truck can haul before crapping out, and I'm not sure when the last time it was serviced either. But don't worry about it! My guess is that it will be fine," Rene said not particularly reassuringly, but then changed the topic with something significantly more interesting. "Hey! I've got an idea. Do you want to skip dinner at the community tonight? Maybe grab a drink and something to eat with me at the pub? They've got great fish and chips and Toby's homebrew isn't half bad either."

Momentarily at a loss, Maia stood staring blankly at Rene. It wasn't so much that she was surprised at being asked out; that happened with a respectable frequency (thank you very much). It was more the fact that Rene seemed to be implying that he had an actual place where he could take her out, and not some crappy home-cooked meal scraped together over a camping stove. There were exceedingly few restaurants left, post-Liberation. Who had the extra money to spend on fancy-pants food? And who had the fancy-pants food in any case? Sure, there were bars where people would shuffle together and guzzle moonshine or beverages spiked with pure alcohol; there were lots of people who needed to forget the miserableness of their situation, and may view losing their sight a blessing. But restaurants? A place to sit and be served? Maia had never seen one ever since the beginning of the Council's rule - and she hadn't realized how sorely she'd missed the idea of going out until Rene suggested it right them, essentially blowing away Maia's mind in the process.

Rene, however, took Maia's look of bewilderment as something else entirely, "Uh... right. Sorry. It was just an idea. Uh, yeah. You're probably right. We probably shouldn't go out. It would look bad anyway. I just thought... Anyway, you're right... It would be better to go back..."

"No, no! I mean yes! Yes! Let's go!" Maia said blinking as she realized Rene was having the impression she was turning him down. Taking a step closer and smiling, she squeezed his arm and said, "I'd love to go. I was just surprised that there's a pub here. It's been a while. Your little island has more to offer than I ever imagined. Are you sure you're not making fun of me and you're not taking me to a dingy shack?"

"Really, it's a great place. Toby's Seahouse is the oldest, best preserved restaurant from the old days," Rene beamed proudly, then looked at her playfully. "Unless you'd like me to take you to dingy shack, because I know of a few."

Maia laughed lightly and possibly even in a girly way, enjoying the flirtation game she hadn't a chance to play at very much, "Let's try Toby's Seahouse first. Then we'll see."

...And suffice it to say that the evening was lovely. The restaurant turned out to be a legit establishment, fully lighted with dim LED bulbs that some might call romantic, while the tables were full with cheery, polite people. The service was awful, of course, but at least the food was brought out hot and the drinks cold - both of which were even surprisingly decent, and Maia didn't have to strategically toss any of it away. Mind you, the beer had slight metallic background flavor that she couldn't place, but after the third or fourth pint she stopped noticing it.

Maia didn't quite remember when exactly she and Rene started to make out and grope each other. Most likely it was on the drive back to the community, during which the truck did in fact break down, but that wasn't too bad since they could continue on foot, smooching all the way back to John's camper. And, as these things went, not too long after stumbling through the camper's door, there was a frenetic series of disrobing, more smooching, not enough sucking and caressing (but acceptable), and then a brief (but again, acceptable) period of thrusting before they both fell asleep.

Maia couldn't remember the last time she had such great of time - and, best of all, she didn't think of John the entire time.

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# Chapter 12

It was still night when Maia woke, her limbs entwined with Rene's and with the bedsheets loosely covering them. Post-coitus (for him, she specified in her mind, but considering it was their first time, she hadn't expected more than jack-rabbiting intercourse--and was pleasantly surprised when he turned out to be a fairly considerate lover. There was no doubt she'd consider the possibility of another few gos, at which point she'd certainly give directions to him on how she could orgasm on her end. As a general performance though, she thought he'd done fairly well, and besides, it had been some time since Maia had scored, so, jack-rabbiting aside, the deed had at least scratched that itch), they'd both fallen asleep, tired from the long day and more than a little bleary from the booze they'd imbibed with a little too much liberty.

As much as she knew she was exhausted and needed the shut-eye, her sleep had been restless. Too many irritatingly troubling thoughts were racing through her mind, all of which conveniently decided to torment her in this quiet hour when there were no more distractions, crises to manage, or flirtations to follow through on. Gently easing herself out of the bed and tucking the covers around a heavily breathing Rene, Maia padded her way to John's desk and logged into his computer systems.

But now what? Even after accessing his systems and faced with a slew of potential leads in front of her, she stared aimlessly into John's dashboard cluttered with icons and archives, uncertain what to do next. Would it help to look at more of his idiotic videos? But rather than provide any insight, they'd more likely start to melt Maia's eyes with their uncompromising stupidity and tactlessness. Or maybe she should peruse his vast collection of images and gifs that he'd assembled using his netset instaframes? Would that give her insight about where he'd gone to and who he interacted with before he died? Probably. The problem was that she wasn't even sure what she was looking for - and she absolutely refused to admit she was looking for "clues," because that would imply that John hadn't died accidentally--which meant that the twit somehow got himself killed - which meant that Maia had to figure out who the hell it was and navigate the royal spectacle of flying turds that would result from her investigation.

But... DAMN the twit! There was no way he'd had an accident! Why couldn't he have the decency to die cleanly!?! Maia was looking for fucking clues. The uncomfortable fact had been nagging her constantly since she'd left the site. Considering the evidence she'd seen so far, there was only one conclusion: John had been murdered. Weeeell, okay, she couldn't exactly conclude that John had been murdered at this point, but there was one thing she could easily do to determine that - which was another thing she'd been avoiding ever since logging into John's systems. The main "evidence," so to speak (Maia hated the detective lingo even more than playing at detectiving), was the broken netset that had been found thanks to the climber-pilgrims. Pulling the broken pieces of the netset from her bag, she took another close look at it, hoping that what she'd seen the first time wasn't what she had seen.

Nope. There it was: a sharp cut across the netset's main casing, which was completely impossible to happen simply by chance. The casing was made out of a titanium-weave alloy that was designed to withstand several thousand pounds of force, not to mention water, sun, wind, radiation and electromagnetic disruptions; after all, it was protecting the critically important collection of funny animal pictures, hilarious archived conversations, and innumerable movies that the netsets were designed to house and convey. No, the netset casing was nearly indestructible by a mere act of god. The only thing that could have broken it was a buckycarbon-laced precision saw... Not only that, a cut in that location on the netset could only be for the sole possible of destroying any data that had been stored in it--including, very annoyingly, the events leading up to John's demise.

Still, Maia's slightly delusional and stupidly hopeful self thought, it was still possible that John could have broken his netset himself, maybe in some kind of fit of despair and then launched himself off the cliff to his precipitous end... Right? Right? Pfff, yeah right, Maia snorted. John was too self-obsessed and narcissistic to ever decide to kill himself; and, even if he did, he'd be too interested in knowing how people would eulogize him to ever go through with killing himself. Who knows? Maybe his ego collapsed in the intervening years that Maia had known him, and maybe he developed a crippling sense of self-awareness that made him realize how annoying he was to everyone, which lead him to finally decide to spare the world his presence. Again, Maia doubted it, but then again, freakier, more ridiculous things have happened before.

There was one way to find out for sure. Seeing no other way around it - and having expended her options for procrastination - Maia very very reluctantly, subvocalized the commands that would link the data from her scanner to John's systems. Ordinarily, she'd have to wait for a secure high-band connection to the Council's servers to upload the data and access their forensic analysis programs - which meant that Maia had decent excuse to not to look further into to John's case and legitimately say that things were still "inconclusive." However, John's systems, advanced and optimized up the wazoo as they were with its very own high-speed intranet signal repeater, offered a full complement of resources that could easily crunch the information from the formerly accident site and now potential crime site. Maia cursed the tech-savvy John once more.

Queuing up the simulation program on John's systems, Maia inputted the relevant parameters - body weight, injury extent, topography, wind variables, estimated initial velocity - and had it calculate the most likely descent vector that John's body took. The question was simple: considering the final placement of John's body, where would he have fallen from? When she still had hopes that it would be an accident, Maia had visually guessed that he would have scaled the rock cropping about two hundred feet above and fell from there. She'd thought that judging from the topography, it was very possible that John was maybe doing something as innocent as trying to take a picture, and, then in search of the perfect shot, he edged out too far, and a gust of wind might have blown him off. If this were true, it would still make the accident scenario viable... and as for the broken netset... well freak accidents happened. That, at least, was the best case scenario Maia was hoping for.

As the simulation program crunched and calculated the data, a gaggle of cartoon Hindu gods danced around a spinning lotus flower in Maia's field of vision; not surprisingly, John had chosen the "kitchen-sink-spiritual" theme for his system's interface. An interminable time later (a whole freaking minute!), the lotus stopped spinning and the Hindu gods bowed solemnly, before fading out and revealed the report and the very much unwanted statement:

"Inconsistent data: physical evidence does not match environmental conditions. Recalculate?"

Ah, fuck. Great. Just fucking great, Maia swore, assenting to the recalculation, despite knowing it would come up with the same result: the environmental data and the position of John's body were incompatible, meaning that John did not fall from the cliff. Indeed, in order for him to have landed in the spot he was found and in the state he was in, he would have had to find some way to teleport himself eighty feet above the site and about ten feet away from the cliff - and then fall straight down, without any hint of wind. Conclusion? John's body had been deliberately placed, after he'd been killed. While it was impossible to tell, Maia hoped for John's sake that the broken bones and other injuries were inflicted when he was dead in order to simulate his fall. Damn hell. If there had been any kind of fuzziness in the data that could have been massaged, Maia would have ran with the theory of the accident... but with the damned broken netset? There was no other but to conclude that John was killed and that someone had tried cover it up.

Why, John? Why did you have to get yourself killed? And, more importantly, who did it and why? Sure, Maia very well knew, John wasn't the most likable or even tolerable person. The hints of annoyance and contempt was palpable under the gushy message of love and acceptance that was the theoretical practice on Salt Spring and everywhere in Council-controlled territory. Yet, as much as of an asswipe he was, could he have been so annoying to have required being killed? The main thing about John was that no matter what you said about the guy, if you ignored him, he tended to wander off to others who might pay attention or react to him, so that his effect was ultimately temporary and easy to manage. Maybe this time, he'd pushed someone too far, someone unstable and unpredictable that John had misread and thought could take a joke and ended up flipping out and killing him. Who though? Who would do it? Maia had no bloody idea. Worse still, Maia also had no idea how to tell Jamie, and there was no doubt that she needed to do so sooner than later for everyone to prepare for the fallout. In fact, her protocol stated she needed to report to Jamie immediately. No way. Maia needed time.

Gritting her teeth in frustration at her lack of leads, Maia blinked away the simulation, focusing instead on John's archives, expanding them as she did so and initiated a search criteria for the interview series that Aidan had mentioned. What was it again? Glorious Salt Residents? Magnificent? Proud? No, no... Noble! Noble Salt Springers. That was it. Subvocalizing the correct name, a folder immediately popped up, populated by a few dozen files, most of them half done and still in the editing stage. Sorting them by date, Maia selected and initiated the earliest one, immediately wincing as John's ridiculously grinning face appeared, filling the whole image as he began,

"Hello everyone! Welcome back to I, John: Journeys of an Activist in a Brand-New World! You know by now how I truly believe in the Liberation and how I worked to make it happen. With my sister, Jamie Ellis, who's a leading Council a member by the way, I brought the Messiah to Vancouver and helped touch off the great Liberation!"

Maia rolled her eyes at the liberal embellishment and name dropping. To say that John's soft hands and pasty ass did anything except cower and be dragged from shelter to shelter would be a blatant fabrication. The show, however, must go on, and the public didn't seem to care about his numerous inaccuracies, wanting more to be entertained with his vids and dumb statements like,

"I'm proud, so proud to tell you about my new work here on Salt Spring Island! By far, the Salt Spring community is the most progressive and revolutionary that I have ever visited. I'm so amazed by the work the local Directorate has done here. In fact, I moved here with the express permission and blessing of the Council to study the people here and their systems, so that I can bring it to all of our Liberated areas! I've been here only a few months now, but I'm happy to announce my new series: Noble Salt Springers!"

As with all of John's videos, an obnoxious flashing leader began scrolling below his face, <COUNCIL APPROVED! NEW INSIGHTS TO BE SHARED FROM SALT SPRING! GREAT REVELATIONS TO COME! #PREACHBABYPREACH>

Maia again doubted John's claim that his presence on the island was some kind of Council project. Instead, she bet that Jamie, in the understandable desire to get him out of her face, planted the idea in his head that he would doing the Council's work and sent him off on his way to play activist on an isolated island.

"Like many of you, I've known of Salt Spring for a long time. I'll bet you also know of their great history of being a haven for artists, progressives and free-living naturalists! It's so beautiful, isn't it? So peaceful, so magical," John exclaimed, having the dronecam pan out the shot, revealing that he was standing at the top of a mountain, probably Maxwell, overlooking Fulsom valley with the ferry harbor visible at the end of it.

Waving an arm grandly in front of the scenery, he gave the dronecam a conspiratory wink and said, "I'll tell you what. Things aren't what they seem. Would you believe it surprised me to learn how many different people live here? And that they don't always live happily? In fact, it's a miracle they haven't killed each other... BUT they haven't and they're able live in peace. And THAT really is the true lesson of Salt Spring that I, your intrepid activist videographer will share with you."

<SECRETS OF SALT SPRING REVEALED! EXPOSE COMING SOON! WILL THE LIBERATION CONTINUE? WILL THE LIBERATION BE SUSTAINED? #COUNCILCRISIS #BEHINDTHECURTAIN>

Resisting the temptation to skip ahead of John's spiel and get to something interesting--such as a fight with an interviewee who might be a suspect in his death--Maia forced herself to pay attention, giving John's ramble an opportunity to play out--in the off-chance that it wasn't the expected mess of re-packaged well-known information made to seem new and amazing by concocting unlikely conspiracies and making provocative statements. But as if to spite Maia, John began, raising a finger into the air,

"Here's what's interesting! Did you know that Salt Spring hasn't always been a place filled with artists and revolutionaries as it is now? Before the Liberation and even before the Pre-Liberation days, Salt Spring was filled with members of the 1%, living in huge cabin-mansions, much like they used to do in the corporate estate-controlled North Hills of Vancouver!"

<SALT SPRING'S CONTROVERSIAL PAST! ENEMY AT OUR DOORSTEP! IS THE LIBERATION THREATENED? #DANGERSOFHISTORY #BEWAREBEWAREBEWARE!>

John's eyes widened dramatically, as Maia's eyes rolled. Yes, John, everyone knew this. Everyone knew that, in conjunction with the housing bubble and real estate speculation, the early 21st century saw the island become populated by upper-crusts, wanting to live the sanitized quaintness of rural life, complete with its own foul tasting, overpriced wines and beers and every kind of healing/restorative/beautifying spa possible, as well as multiple yoga/pilates/zoomba/crossfit studios with competing claims of authenticity, intensity, and spiritualness. It was perhaps the darkest time in the island, when housing became limited and few besides the wealthy could afford the simple day-to-day, not to mention finding a home that wasn't a moldy hovel or making a living, except by catering to the whims and entertainment of the rich.

That era, however, had ended with the disastrous tanker wreck of 2020 that spilled crude up and down the Gulf Islands, wiping out the ecology and, even more significantly, wiping out the values of the homes in the area and causing the wealthy to flee. All that was left were the toxic remains of the islands that the remaining residents had to clean and rebuild their homes. Over the years, the island ecology and population recovered, becoming what it was today. This was all very well-known, so what was John going to add? Maia was about to switch to another file until John said,

"So we all know the 1%'s gone right? Part of a bygone time that we threw away with the great Liberation? We all know--or what we all think we know--that the corporate estates have been beaten back, right? Well, here's what's interesting. Take a look at this," John smirked cockily, making a come-hither gesture, as the dronecam spun away and zoomed in on a small patch of sun-dappled trees in the valley.

As the magnification increased, there was a brief shimmering light amidst the trees, which then fell away to reveal a huge log-house that was built in the nominal style of a cabin, but with its four stories and five distinct wings, it was more suitably classified as a log-castle. The opulent mansion, characteristic of the dark times, had been hidden under a wide-expanse of cham-tarp, but which John's dronecam had adjusted its wavelengths to see beneath it. Exactly how he'd done so was puzzling enough, since he'd have to known the wavelength the cham-tarp was projecting under, but a whole mansion from the pre-Liberation era that was still intact and hidden was a major find that demanded answers.

"Pretty cool, huh? I looked at the old records, and that mansion is listed under the name Carl Goodwin. Ring a bell? Sure it should. He owned the salmon factories in the area--until they were destroyed by the oil-spill. Word was he went bankrupt because no one would buy his contaminated fish, and he fled to a safehouse in China, where he died after making a bad deal with the local cartels. Meanwhile, his mansion stayed abandoned because no one could get past his security systems and autogun drones."

<SHOCKING SECRET IN THE WOODS! WHAT HAS COUNCIL BEEN HIDING? HIDDEN HOMES OF THE 1%! #WHOAAAAAAA #ISLANDSCOOP!>

Alright, Maia thought with a frown, so there was a big abandoned house in the woods. Big deal. There were lots of those, and his explanation about why it hadn't been reclaimed by the Council or the Directorate had a pretty common explanation. While many properties and businesses left behind by the corporates and the estates had been reclaimed by the People, many others were left alone, as they had no real functional value, with respect to the amount of effort that it would take to get it back. Factories, water systems and utilities were obvious priorities, but remote luxury homes that no one would have a use for were ignored. Maia ground her teeth, wondering if she'd again been suckered in to following one of John's silly stories. But John had apparently anticipated Maia's--and every other viewer's--skepticism, and said with overwrought tension,

"Wait for it... wait for it... There!"

There was nothing. Maia strained her eyes, initiating the auto-mag, but she saw nothing.

"Look! Look! It's there! See?" John repeated.

Losing patience, Maia looked again, and finally saw it: a dim light had come on in one of the windows.

A light. A fucking light. Who the hell cares? It was probably an automatic lighting protocol that had been programmed into the house settings. The light, however, slowly became brighter, and then more blinked on, illuminating a whole wing of the house, and finally a whole series of faux-fire torches ignited themselves on the side of the driveway. This was no random light-sequence; it could only be part of the welcoming protocol of the house, intended for arrivals--which, Maia immediately thought, didn't necessarily mean that anyone was coming, as the protocol could have been accidentally activated by a passing deer or... by a vehicle that was driving up the driveway. There was a damned actual vehicle coming up the driveway. The mansion was inhabited. What the hell was going on here?

"Crazy isn't it? There's more! Check out who's in the car!" John crowed.

<LOOKEE LOOKEE HERE! MAJOR REVELATIONS! THE TRUTH IS SHATTERING YOU! #MINDBLOWN #WHOOOOAAAAAAWHOOOOOOAAAAA>

Feeling a pain in her hands, Maia realized then that she'd been clenching them in tension. Dammit, John. Out with it. Maia hated the fact that she'd been drawn into his obvious emotional manipulations. She needed to know who was in the car. As it came to a halt in front of the mansion's main entrance, the two front doors opened and out came a blond-haired man and woman, roughly in their forties, chatting all the way, their bags filled with what appeared to be a series of vegetables and knick-knacks. It was Mark and his wife Elaine.

"You see? You see? That's Mark Hollister! A member of the Salt Spring Directorate! One of our leaders! He's going into that house with his wife!" John said triumphantly, returning the dronecam to himself. "Mark and Elaine own that mansion. They OWN it! I discovered this later after searching on the Chinese extended real-estate listings. They'd acquired the house's codes from Carl Goodwin's holding company. How you ask? How? How does Mark have that much money? Isn't it obvious? He's an estate owner! He's one of the corporate estate owners!"

<ENEMY IN OUR MIDST? IS THE DIRECTORATE INFILTRATED? WHAT'S GOING ON? THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE! #WHOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!>

Whoa, indeed. Maia paused the John's video to mull on the revelation. Was it true? Could it truly be that Mark was an estate owner? Maia supposed there were the signs about Mark that had triggered her subconscious redflags: the man was too polite, well kept, and proper to be one of the people; he had none of the macho symbols of rugged manhood that became the norm on in the Liberation. Indeed, now that Maia thought about it, it did make sense: Mark and Elaine were troublingly polished and slick--far too much so. It was obvious now. They had to have be part of the corporate estates.

But how could it be? How could Mark and Elaine have been accepted on to the island and passed the Council security clearances? As much Maia hated to agree with John, it was significant news. Perhaps the Liberation really was compromised. Perhaps John had discovered something huge and he'd been killed for it. Could it be? Of course, if Mark was a corporate estate owner, he could easily have killed John. Protecting his secret was ample motivation to kill him, Holy shit! Now Maia knew too! This meant that Maia herself was in danger! She had to tell Jamie! They had to sound the alarm and bring in the militia! If Mark even knew she suspected the truth then...

"AAAAA!!!" Maia let out sharp scream as she felt something wet and soft touch the back of her neck. Spinning violently around since she was clearly under attack, Maia was suddenly confronted with,

"It's just me! It's just me!" Rene said, equally surprised, raising his hands in the air, after having planted on her neck what was supposed to be a tender kiss.

Her heart still pounding, Maia growled angrily, "Fucking Hell, Rene! Are you crazy? What the fuck? You scared the shit out of me..."

"Sorry! I'm so sorry about that," Rene apologized profusely. "I was seeing you hunched over there and I kept calling your name, but you didn't answer, so I thought I'd say hello, y'know, by... a kiss, y'know..."

Rene's cute, bashful face brought Maia's panic down several notches to a manageable level. With a forced smile, she said, "That's really sweet, Rene. Thank you. I'm sorry too. I was really involved in a video I was watching. I must have had the volume overrides on."

"Oh? What were you watching?" Rene asked curiously.

"Nothing, nothing... just, ah... Something of John's. Nothing important," Maia hedged, not willing divulge what she was thinking yet, but then suddenly curious herself, she couldn't help asking. "Hey, tell me what you know about Mark. The member of the Directorate."

"Mark? Mark Hollister?" Rene replied, with a puzzled look. "Well, he's a member of the Directorate as you know. He's responsible for operations on the island and he's the main planner of everything. He works a lot with the different communities to make sure they have everything. He's a pretty impressive guy. I'm sure the island community wouldn't be able to run as well as it did without his skills."

"Yeah? Is there anything else about him? Anything unusual about him? Maybe his history?" Maia probed again.

"Him? Unusual? I don't think so," Rene frowned, clearly digging around in his memory. His face then relaxed and he said with a carefree shrug, "Well, besides him being a former corporate estate owner there's not much else. He's a real stand-up guy."

"A corporate estate owner?" Maia said tensely.

"Sure. He's one of the reformed estate owners. Everyone knows that. Don't worry. He's really changed his ways. He's great," Rene smiled with a reassuring confidence that Maia didn't share. "He donated his wealth to the community. He even brought a number of other reformed estate owners onto the island and helped rebuild everything here. There's no way we would have what we have without their help."

"I see..." Maia said hesitantly.

"Hey, listen. I have to go," Rene said apologetically. "I have to get back to the mini-truck and see if I can get it back to the community. It's still a few hours before dawn so I should have time to make it for service. There's a bunch of food in the mini-truck that I'll need to cook for the Communal Devotional today."

"Uh... right. Ok," Maia replied, sluggishly remembering the other details of last night.

"I'll see you later at the Communal Devotional time, ok?" Rene said with a touch of new-relationship uncertainty.

"Uh, right. Right. Of course. I'll see you there," Maia smiled brightly, as she pulled him forward to give him a long kiss, before letting him leave.

As Maia's gaze lingered on Rene's departing well-shaped rear, her thoughts soured as she digested what just happened. In the aftermath of getting her kiss-induced heart attack, she'd effectively lost a major lead. For a good long panicked second, she'd felt certain that she'd hit on a potentially convincing culprit for John's death: the corporate estate owners. She'd even hit on two suspects: Mark and Elaine, who, being part of the former enemies was a major deal, not to mention the fact that there were other estate and corporates on the island. But, according to Rene, they weren't an issue? So on the one hand, John hadn't made up his ramble, but on the other, he'd effectively manipulated Maia's panic? How fucking annoying. Maia hated being worked by anything other than her own terms. Worse, she was again left with no leads.

Yet, despite not having anything to go on, she still had the intensely inconvenient reality that John had been murdered--which, she realized, having delayed long enough, she had no choice but to report to Jamie. With a huge, apocalyptic sigh, Maia subvocalized a command to send a message to Jamie, asking for a meeting as soon as she could. With any luck, Jamie would only be getting the message some time later in the day, so that Maia could conceivably delay having to talk to her. But Maia's luck was not favorable. Even though it was butt-fuck early in the morning, Jamie was awake, since as soon as the message was sent, a reply from Jamie instantly replied to her saying:

"About fucking time. Give me your report at 2pm today."

Well, you're fucking welcome too, Maia grumbled, as she pushed herself up from John's desk and headed back to bed, in the hopes that she might be able to snare a few hours of sleep before her day would start--a day that would include the Communal Devotional nonsense, which she couldn't avoid not only because she was the Messiah, but she also because it could yield some clues. Curse you to hell, John, Maia swore sleepily. Why couldn't you have died accidentally like a normal person?

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# Chapter 13

Hardly enough sleep later, Maia was walking down the still dark path to the community plaza, valiantly trying to ignore her displeasure at the damned morning hour, her sleep-deprived grogginess, and her mild hangover nausea--all exceedingly good reasons not to respond favorably to the "morning" horn-call and try to sleep. While she'd fallen back asleep after Rene had left, she was woken again less than a couple hours later. The only thing tempering her justifiable foul mood was her excitement of having breakfast again, as the very idea of having fresh bread and jam made her salivate and tear up with joy. But now, intermingled with her ecstatic thoughts of breakfast foods were also the added feelings of ticklish, giddy warmth, as the food also reminded her of the person who was cooking it, the man whose gentle caresses and roving lips still lingered in her memory.

Sadly, as Maia approached the sharply lit square, the wonderful, enticing smells of yesterday were absent. In fact, none of the tables had been set out, and people were only milling around chatting among themselves and - climbing-cultists that they were--occasionally leaping onto narrow ledges and gruntingly doing finger pull-ups to stay warm. In no mood to be cold and hungry and definitely in no mood to do pointless exercise, Maia felt her ire bubble up. What was the point of getting up and not eating, Maia grumbled to herself. Naturally, no one sane would be getting up at this hour without some sort of enticement, so it could only have to do with the implicit requirements of the day's Communal Devotional.

As with many of the communities she'd visited, they'd developed weekly devotional ceremonies that the Council approved of and encouraged, as they served to not only hold the communities together, but the varied Liberation communities together as well. However, there was no real unifying link among any of ceremonies, besides some kind vague spiritualness. More often than not, they were unpredictable affairs, taking on the flavor of whoever had decided to lead it or whatever pre-existing beliefs were there. They sometimes involved elaborate ceremonies with feathers and dead fish or sometimes it was simple quiet meditation. Similarly, the presence of food varied, where many prepared large group meals and held it as a festive occasion, while others went the other extreme and encouraged fasting instead. Apparently, as Maia's empty stomach complained, the Salt Spring community fell with the latter groups.

Her chance at eating to heart's content stymied, Maia was close to leaving and going back to bed, but having walked too close to the gathering, people started calling out to her in greeting, and she had no choice but to stay. It wouldn't look good for the Messiah to be snubbing her nose at the Communal Devotional - which was something that someone would certainly report in some annoying scandal newspiece. But, while she needed to be present, Maia petulantly decided that there was no reason for her to have more than the minimum of interaction. So instead of joining any groups or engaging anyone in conversation, Maia merely wove in and around the crowd, giving cursory waves and nods and smiling occasionally and replying to everyone with non-committal phrases. Being given the reputation of being frosty and aloof was something she could deal with (and often did), as she could simply say that she was deep in meditation and their dumb-ass comments were distracting her.

Entirely prepared to wander around aimlessly until the start of the devotional, Maia was forced to stop her moody walk with the sudden appearance of SriSharma in front of her. Instead of his paramedic uniform, he was bundled up in colorful layers of fleece jackets, looking uncomfortable as he always did. He was holding out a tall glass in front of him as some kind of offering to her.

"Uh... Good morning, Madame Messiah Maia, this is for you. It's a smoothie that..."

"For the whatever'th time, SriSharma. Just call me Maia, ok? I'm not in the greatest...Wait, did you say 'smoothie'? Is that a smoothie?" Maia asked, pointing at the glass that was brimming with a kind of thick greenish, brownish liquid. Unbelievingly, and yet very much wanting it to be true, Maia asked again, "Are you serious? Is that really a smoothie? You aren't messing with me? An actual smoothie?"

"Y-yes, it's a smoothie... er, ah... Maia," SriSharma said, with a shaky smile. "On Communal Devotional day, instead of breakfast we have smoothies before congregating and then we have a brunch afterwards. It's usually pretty good even though the protein powder is really old. We found it off one of the shipping containers that washed ashore and they weren't too badly contaminated. I know Rene does his best to keep it taste good and I think today's is a mix of..."

"Alright, you convinced me, SriSharma. I'll have it," Maia said, eagerly reaching out for the glass, still awed that it could really be the real deal.

With fresh vegetables and fruit being scarce, the very idea of blending anything for a smoothie had become foreign. Whenever vegetables and fruit were available, they were savored slowly and stretched as much as possible, not pulverized into a drink. Yet, the Salt Spring climbing community clearly had their food mojo on, as they obviously had more than enough vegetables to blithely use in smoothies... and it tasted phenomenal. Lapping up the chunky, earthy yet vaguely sweet drink, Maia closed her eyes in bliss, enjoying the long forgotten treat that had the familiar dusty aftertaste of protein powder that screamed healthy.

"Oh, man... Oh, man... Incredible... Did you say Rene made this? Man, he's good. Wow. How sweet of him to send it over. This is soooooo good! What's in here? I taste all kinds of things in this. Is it spinach? Kale? Ahhh-mazing! There's something sweet in here too! I can't place it... Man... This is so good! So good!"

"I think the sweetness is from the strawberries..." SriSharma offered shyly.

"Strawberries! You guys have strawberries? Why do you have strawberries when no one else does?" Maia demanded, her taste buds tingling with effervescent delight. "I thought they were wiped out by blight."

"Oh... ah... It's a special breed, I think," SriSharma answered. "The farmers know more about it. I know someone who can tell you more about it..."

"No, forget it," Maia said. She'd gulped down half her glass in one go, and now she was sipping it, carefully savoring every bit of it. Taking a look around, she saw an empty spot in the square, and said to SriSharma, "Come and sit with me. Let's chat."

"Uh... ah... I don't... I..." SriSharma replied in alarm.

"Just sit down and keep me company, alright? I'm not going to bite. It's nice to have someone to talk to here and I know you the best so far," Maia said with a welcoming smile that she could comfortably manage with her belly content.

Dropping down on the ground, she tapped the ground with her hand, which SriSharma dutifully filled. Naturally, Maia had no real desire to chitchat with the man, nor was she interested in being nice to him; her real motive was that she wanted to know more about the community, and sensing that SriSharma's will was malleable, she figured he would be a good person to wheedle information out of. Starting with some friendly banter that was meant to give the illusion of interest in him, Maia asked, "So, tell me, SriSharma. What's with the name? That can't be your real name, right? Did you name yourself or something? What's the deal?"

"Ah, hahaha..." SriSharma chuckled, blushing a little at the unexpected, disarmingly inoffensive question. "I was given my name by the climbing sanga. They thought it would inspire me to climb harder and better."

"Oh? And did it work?" Maia asked, trying but not succeeding in visualizing the stumpy man going up a cliff face.

"Not really. I've kind peaked at 5.12a's," SriSharma sighed, shaking his head sadly. "I can occasionally do b's, but the only way I can do them is by dynoing and I've reached my limit with that too. Anything past 5.12bs are too reachy me and my monkey ratio isn't high enough."

"And does every community member get a name like that? Like MahaLindy? Or RajTwight?" Maia said with more respect for the man, after gaping at what climbing grade he'd "peaked," a level that meant he had to be an incredibly skilled to climb in spite of his smallness. On her end, the highest grade Maia had climbed were 5.10s, but with many many unclean falls.

"Most climbing sanga members do, but not everyone. MahaLindy usually decides and there's no real rules to it," SriSharma shrugged, adding despondently, "I was an exception, because I'm not a full member. MahaLindy thought the name would help and get me past my level so I can become of true climber dedicated to Hanuman. Maybe one day I can be..."

"Wait a minute... You're not a full member?" Maia interrupted, raising her hand, puzzled. The man was present at practically every event she'd been to and was constantly running around, presumably on community business, so she'd assumed he was a member of the group.

"I'm just a provisional member. You have to be able to pass the 5.13 grade to be considered," SriSharma grumbled, repressing some long festering irritation. "Lots of us are just provisional members. Rene is one too. We're all working towards the privilege of full membership into the climbing sanga. But, you know, even if you do clean a 5.13 it's never guaranteed you'd get membership. MahaLindy always has the last word."

"Oh? How so?" Maia asked, curious about how the politics of the climbing community played out. Unfortunately, she'd apparently opened a festering wound of SriSharma's and caused him to launch into what sounded like a well-practiced angry ramble:

"MahaLindy always tells us there are so many way to join... so many ways... But really, it's more like there are so many ways that MahaLindy claims we can join," SriSharma said with a resigned sigh, continuing with an increasingly bitter tone. "Sure, the main determining factor is being able to climb a 5.13, since that shows how close you are to Hanuman. But if you can't reach the 5.13, MahaLindy says that if you show that you're dedicated to the community through daily selfless service and do tasks for the Directorate without question, you can become a candidate for full membership... Right... I've been working for them for the last three years, and still nothing, while lots have advanced ahead of me... She also says that if you get enough current members to speak for you in your favor, then that will influence the final decision... Huh! Good luck with that! Full members know what you want, and if they don't get anything out of it well... It's not like I have that much to offer. Apparently, the sure way to become a member is to hook up with a current member... but that didn't work out too well for me and Katie when she decided to be with Rick--who's now a member of the climbing sanga."

As SriSharma spoke, his speech had become a low mutter that Maia had to strain to hear--though the resentment came through very clearly. Crushing clods of soil between his fingers, SriSharma prefaced his continuing thoughts with a snort,

"Yeah and even with all that, even if by some miracle from Hanuman it all lines up... there's always MahaLindy's tea test. Once you're a candidate, she'll arrange a meeting. You never know when, and there's never a way to schedule to it, because of course it's by the grace of Hanuman and when it feels right for her. But if you're lucky, and she's feeling it, you go to her house and sit and have tea with her... and she decides if you're a fit for the community. If you're in, she'll be like 'I'm so excited to have you join us, you'll bring so much to the everyone's experience, give me a hug' and that'll seal it. If she doesn't want you, for whatever reason--and you'll never find out why--she'll never tell you no, straight out. Oh, no. She'll give one of her shrugs and claim that she needs to bring it to the Directorate and have them decide. Whatever. We all know she's the one who decides. That's her job. Climbing sanga fit. She decides everything. Why do you think everyone is so nice to her? She's the gatekeeper. I've been invited to tea five times now, and still nothing. My brother doesn't understand why I even bother trying to get in, but he doesn't get it. It's not the acceptance and the food. It's that I've already put so much into it that I should get something. I work all day and I should at least blahblahbleh blehblahblahblah blehblehbleh..."

Maia began to tune out SriSharma's familiar gripes, as her sleep-deprived attention wavered. It was a common story that she'd encountered frequently. Although the Liberation had eliminated the most blatant exploitations and injustices that the estates and corporates brought with their imposition of class and wealth differences, it was inevitable that the dynamics of hierarchies and the elitism of the "in-crowd" would still be present. People were people after all. So, depending on if you were revolutionary enough or religious enough or, in SriSharma's case a good enough climber, it would determine your rank in the community, as well as access to certain goods and services that "had to be regulated in some way" since there was so few of whatever it was. Maia had no idea what benefits being a full climbing sanga member brought, but if the food was anything to go by, there were definitely some perks that weren't available very many other places anywhere in the Liberation communities.

Of course, the Council frowned on unfair, restrictive and exclusionary practices like that - but they also did nothing to prevent it, since the Council members also used their access to scarce goods to gain and maintain favor. Was this counter the principles of the Liberation for freedom and equality for all? Meh. It really depended on who you asked (and also who could actually produce a full list of principles for the Liberation). So long as people were being generally democratic and there were no massively egregious cases of inequity, then the Council didn't really care. Besides, everyone was ubiquitously poor and destitute within a very narrow band of variation, while the pre-Liberation era was so bad and still vividly in everyone's memory that the current imperfect situation was still a drastic improvement that everyone was grateful for. In the end, it was a question of practicality: with the war with the corporate estates still simmering, so long as there was peace and harmony on a superficial level, it was fine - which was what Maia, in her own position of privilege, told herself when she turned a blind eye to the Liberation's inconsistencies.

BLAAAT!

The communal horn blared, jolting Maia out of her reveries and SriSharma's ramblings, which had (if she'd followed him properly) become a passive-aggressive laundry list of why he should become a full climbing sanga member, interspersed with many back-peddling affirmations that he was very grateful for what he had now - but just a little more would be better and fairer.

"Ah! The Communal Devotional is about to start!" SriSharma said with a start, leaping to his feet and ready to rush off; but before he did, he looked to Maia with a bright expression that was in contrast to his previous gloominess. "I have to go ahead to help set up the devotional table to Hanuman. Everyone will be walking over to the meadow, so you can follow them. Thank you for listening to me Madame... er, ah, Maia. I haven't been able to share my thoughts in some time."

"No worries, SriSharma. That's what I do," Maia said generously, as she suppressed a yawn and slowly got up, expecting him to scurry off to do whatever it was he was supposed to as part of his continuing demonstration of selfless service.

As she stood up though, SriSharma was still there, and had taken a half-step closer to her, bending at the waist as he spoke softly, "Please, I'd like to talk to you later. Can we speak, please?"

Maia furrowed her brows, suspecting that he wanted her to speak for him to become a community member. In general, she didn't meddle in local politics, but knowing the struggles the man had to endure, and considering how he'd been helping her so far, she figured she may as well do a little something for him.

"Ok, we can talk... Sure... But I have a call with Jamie this afternoon and it won't be an easy one, so not today." Maia was still trying to figure out how to tell Jamie about John not having an "accident" - with a full understanding of the messiness that would ensue. "How about tomorrow morning? I still want to check something at John's site. We can talk then."

"O-okay. Tomorrow morning? That'll be soon enough, I guess. Thank you so much. I have important information for you. I want to help," SriSharma said rapidly in a rushed whisper, before turning around and running off, leaving Maia alone among crowd of climbers who had also stood up and were getting closer to conversing distance. Fortunately, there was no risk that Maia had to speak to anyone milling around her, as the crowd had begun moving to head out to attend the Community Devotional.

Following the flock of congregants, Maia was grateful that the sun had begun its golden welcome, lighting the sky in cloudy pastel bands of fuchsia and orange, nicely complementing the lively sounds of birds filling the air. Maia had to admit the setting was nice and the walk down to the Communal Devotional was pleasant and relaxing, an effect that was probably intentional. Indeed, along the sides of the path were enormous alders, proud and majestic as they serenely brought a sense of nobility to the walk, while the path itself had been tiled with large, flat rocks that had been left uneven and "natural"-looking. Whoever had designed the path down to the congregation area had done so quite strategically and with an eye on making the walk as impressive and as solemn as possible. In fact, as Maia and the crowd processed, everyone grew silent.

It was still very quiet when very suddenly and very dramatically, the path took a sharp right turn, and the rows of alders ended and opened up to a large meadow that could easily fit several thousand people - many of whom were already present and had taken seats in haphazard rows facing a large flower-garlanded stage. Judging from its size and the curved metal pipes that bracketed the backside, the stage appeared to be a repurposed greenhouse whose ribs had been cut off on one side, while the inside was built up to create an open-air auditorium. Directly center stage was a huge stone statue of Hanuman, looking skywards as the god straddled a stylized mountain and reached out to the audience with some kind of hand mudra. It was very dramatic and awe inducing, which again, Maia assumed was the point, as awe and spectacle eased the way towards reverence and devotion.

Strategically sidestepping the crowd, Maia wove her way to an innocuous part of the meadow in a far corner shaded by a few large trees. It was a perfect spot, as she would be able to see everyone, while being somewhat out of the way from the horde of devotees. It seemed like most of the island, if not all of it, had come for the Communal Devotional, and had arranged themselves in what had to be the island's unspoken hierarchy. Clustered in front of the stage was a goretexed, spandexed and athletic-geared group, which had to be the members of the climbing sanga. A few feet away and to the right of the stage was a large congregation of brown-fleshed, naked people, who could only be Stefan's tribe of ReWilders. Finally, to the left of the podium, in a spot with the poorest view of the stage, was a hodge-podge mix, who by elimination were the remaining general residents of the island from farmers, to craftspeople and tradespeople, who were not directly associated to the climbing community but dependent on them in some way.

Scanning the crowd back and forth, Maia sought out Rene's features, finding nothing. As she was about to stand up and change spots, Maia was halted by the sound of an intercom squeaking and scratching as it was being tapped on. Looking up, she saw that Harmony come on stage, along with a number of other people and musicians. She, of course, had taken a seat smack-dab in the middle of the stage, while a semi-circle of people formed around her, which included RajTwight, MahaLindy, Mark and Stefan, all of whom, except for Stefan, were dressed in slightly cleaner clothes and bore some kind of ceremonial item like a daisychain sash, braided rope or tasseled biners. Though only the members of the Directorate were familiar to Maia, she guessed the other people beside Harmony were other local power brokers of some sort. Hidden behind the island big-wigs were the musicians, whose music was meant to accentuate the display of devotion with an eclectic combination of drums, guitars, sitars, harps, zithers and even a couple of theremins.

"Welcome, fellow Salt Springers!" Harmony greeted, stretching out her arms in welcome. "As always, I am so pleased that our island has come together on this day to show our devotion, as we've done so every week after the Liberation. As you know, today's Communal Devotional is special as tomorrow is our Solstice Celebration, when we'll again be able to share our Love for Hanuman and the Great Mother. I know how busy we all are preparing for it, and I am grateful you still made it today. Let us begin," Harmony bowed her head, cueing everyone to do the same as she began her opening blessing: "May we renew our bond. May we continue together in harmony and build on our successes. Praise the Liberation and may it continue forever. May we all celebrate the different ways we praise Hanuman, from the Infinite Crag to the arms of the Holy Earth Mother to the Noble Labors of Arts, unified by our many acts of selfless service. Praise Hanuman! Praise the Liberation. Mahacore!"

"Mahacore! Praise Hanuman! Praise the Holy Earth Mother! Praise the Noble Labors! Mahacore! Glory to Hanuman! Mahacore! Mahacore!" the crowd rejoined, raising their arms into the air, as the musicians blew their instruments in cacophonic ecstasy.

"Let us begin as we always do with the Hymn to Hanuman, who with his powerful hands and clever limbs will tear down the blinds away from our eyes. SanaTim, if you wouldn't mind doing the honors," Harmony said, nodding to one of the musicians in the back who was brandishing an electric guitar.

As the music soared, everyone joined in the singing, the words to which everyone knew--and even if they didn't, a helpful display, suspended over the Hanuman statue flashed the lyrics to be sung in practiced pseudo-unison. Compared to the other ceremonies Maia had went to, which had essentially been noise-fests with a lot of banging of improvised instruments, the music currently blaring was relatively above average, with the instruments even playing in tune and with some degree of harmony. Not that the music was terribly complicated: it was really not more than the repetition of a few chords, while the songs were sung call and response style, making it extremely easy for the crowd to follow along. After all, it was best to make devotion accessible so more people could be roped into it.

At first, Maia did her best to follow along with the singing, but quickly grew bored of it, and instead contented herself watching the crowd. From the uniform gestures and postures, they obviously knew what the acceptable routines were: most were swaying and undulating their arms, while others were sporadically dancing in strange movements. Even the bigwigs on stage were joining in the dancing and swaying, with all the members of the Directorate demonstrating their moves as an example to everyone, where even Stefan was bobbing up and down on his knees, his member flicking up and down like a darkened metronome. No doubt it was important to show that they were dedicated, lest they be kicked out of the community.

Watching the crowd undulate to the beat of the slow, rhythmic music, Maia's eyes started to get heavy, and her mind drifted until she couldn't quite recall what she was thinking of...

...and she fell asleep.

A hand on Maia's shoulder, gently shaking her, brought her back into groggy wakefulness. Comfortable on the soft ground and lulled by the perceived tenderness of the waking, Maia assumed she was not at the meadow, but in Rene's embrace, so she replied sleepily with a coquettish yawn and smile, "Why hello, Rene, are you up for..."

A woman's titter stopped Maia's wishful reverie, along with the amused comment, "My, aren't we waking to some good dreams."

Maia's eyes flipped open and was met by Elaine's grinning mug. Not too far behind her, also grinning but looking tactfully away was Mark. Not thrilled at being woken up or having her thoughts revealed, Maia dismissed her discomfort by laughing away her situation, as she sat up and brushed herself off,

"I sure did. I have to say that you climbers induce very pleasant dreams. I'm embarrassed to say that I fell asleep during the Communal Devotional. It was lovely while I was awake, but I've been staying up quite late lately working on John's case."

"Ah, yes. Completely understandable," Elaine nodded deeply, still with her annoying all-knowing grin. "I could barely stay awake myself, and I got plenty of sleep!"

There was a burst of vapid laughter, in which they all merrily joined in - as Maia reminded herself: these people are corporate estate owners; these people are part of the enemy. They may be "reformed" estate owners, but Maia didn't buy it. A strident voice in her head still pointed at them as potential suspects in spite of their acceptance in to the Salt Spring community. Could they still be plotting against the Liberation? Could they have killed John? Could they be planning on killing her? But Maia laughed nonetheless to maintain the superficial appearance of social niceties.

Mark beamed pleasantly, "We woke you up for brunch. I'm sure you must be hungry."

Immediately perking up, and with her stomach grumbling in response, Maia said, "Yes! I'm definitely hungry! I just love the food here!"

"Don't be too excited. It's just lunch slurry," Mark growled with artfully construed surliness.

"Oh, don't listen to that grumpy old man," Elaine swatted Mark's arm. "He's just had a lot of it over the years. The brunch is lovely. It's kitcharee, which is a mix of slow stewed rice and lentils that's then spiced wonderfully. It's something our kitchen crew can cook in large batches, so it's perfect for us feed all the attendants of the Communal Devotional."

"It also looks like something the cat couldn't digest," Mark added with a smirk.

"Hush now!" Elaine said with mock anger.

"Well, either way, I'm starving, so lead the way," Maia said, forcing to herself to smile as she watched the couple's rehearsed pleasantries. Glancing quickly around, it did seem like the meadow was emptying and slowly heading back to the community plaza.

"By the way, Maia," Elaine said, tucking her arm under Maia's. "Are you free tonight? We'd love to have you over for dinner. We're having some friends over as well, and I think you'll love the company..." Elaine paused and smiled, "...and Rene will be there as well."

"Then, how could I refuse," Maia said good-naturedly, her skin crawling at the woman's silky smoothness. "I do have a business call to make this afternoon with the Council, and I'm not sure how long that will take..."

"Don't worry, don't worry," Ellen soothed, squeezing her arm. "Mark can pick you up and he can wait as long as necessary. He'll be in a black jeep, waiting for you at the entrance of the community plaza when you're done."

"Sure, okay," Maia smiled, seeing no other way to get out of the invitation.

With every single alarm in her head going off in her head, Maia had no desire to spend time with Mark and Elaine unless it was a full complement of militia. Yet, she also realized her antipathy towards them may be a result of her own (well-founded) biases. And, Maia had to admit that they seemed to be widely known on the island and no one seemed to bothered by it, and second, there was no evidence or even a sign of a motive for them to have killed John. So ultimately, Maia had to consider them as being innocent for now. To be honest, if Maia had to dig deeper into her thoughts, one of the main things bugging her was that Mark and Elaine had so easily maneuvered her to their little party, and Maia hated that. Frankly, at this point, she kind of wanted them to be guilty.

However, before Maia could look ahead to Mark and Elaine's little soiree (and see Rene as well), she still had to chat with Jamie - a conversation that she knew would not be easy, considering that it would be telling her the shit had just gotten a mile deep over their collective heads.

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# Chapter 14

Surprisingly, the difficulties Maia had expected in her conversation with Jamie didn't occur when she'd told her John's death wasn't accidental. Rather than the expected righteous anger or spluttering shock, Jamie had only frowned and pursed her lips in what Maia interpreted as a kind of professional, composed reaction that said "this is shitty news but I gotta keep it together so I can deal with it." Instead, Jamie chose to flip out when Maia told her that she didn't have any idea who might have killed John or why--which she thought was perfectly reasonable considering how she'd come to the non-accidental death conclusion just recently (and also, as she should have highlighted far more to Jamie, as a result of working in the wee hours of the morning (when she had no obligation to) and rather resourcefully after getting the analytical results far sooner than she would have if she'd waited for the Council data-connection). Jamie disagreed with her typical, abrasive tact whose scathing acidity was magnified by the netset's imaging that beamed straight into Maia's optical nerve.

"Maia, do you even know how to run an investigation? Has working in the city softened your brain or something? Maybe I should have assigned you more cases in the rural areas. You don't seem to have the brain power for something like John's case. Maybe I overestimated your abilities and maybe dealing with disputes Joe Bucktooth stealing Mullet-head Frank's goat is more your speed," Jamie spat with completely uncalled for stinging contempt.

Ok, ok, Maia gritted to herself, trying to remember to have compassion and understanding; Jamie was obviously upset at her brother's death and taking it out on her, Maia reasoned, as she controlled her breathing and weathered Jamie's attack. Speaking slowly and trying to model the rational behavior she hoped Jamie would adopt, Maia said,

"That's not called for, Jamie. I'm doing the best I can here and I just got the results of the simulation this morning, which I wouldn't have been able to get if I'd waited on the Council connection. So really, I've been doing a lot better than..."

"I can't believe I trusted you for this. I knew I should have gotten Messiah William Noland to take this case," Jamie continued her rant, uninterested in Maia's calm reasoning.

"William? The idiot barely finished high school. The man's practically illiterate," Maia huffed defensively, as her tolerance of Jamie's ranting cracked. Knowing it was best to stay calm, and also that Jamie had the real power to dismiss her, Maia tried again to grab the reins of her reasonableness. "Look, this is a complicated community. The power dynamics are..."

"Yeah? William would have been able to figure out the power structure of the community the moment he stepped off the ferry. He may not be educated, but his social radar is the best we have," Jamie snapped. "Did you even ask people about John? Did you figure out who his friends were, who he hung out with?"

"I've been working on it..." Maia started to say, but Jamie's spleen had more bile to let loose.

"'Working on it'? 'Working on it'?" Jamie imitated Maia. "Is that the best you have? It shouldn't be too hard, Maia! Who liked him? Who didn't? Who are his enemies? Who did he fuck?"

"Oh, come on," Maia said unable to repress her rolling eyes even though she knew her arguments was some pretty weak sauce. "You can't believe that he could have made that many enemies here. We both know he may be annoying, but he's inoffensive."

"Goddamn it, Maia! He's dead! Someone killed him! Someone had it out for him so someone didn't fucking like him!" Jamie hurled at Maia.

Good point, Maia thought. Fine, so Maia had thought about it, but the only possible motive that came to her was something that she'd been unwilling to delve into, as it involved imagining John using his penis for its sexual functions: "Who knows? Maybe it was some kind of jilted lover or something. John's always been popular with men and women for some reason. That's probably it."

"Braaaavo... Braaaavo, brilliant deduction, Maia. Brilliant. Clearly the work of a superior Messiah at work," Jamie said, giving her the slow clap. "Is that all you can come up with? Nothing else but the theory that my brother put his dick in the wrong hole?"

"I haven't had the time to..." Maia said tensely, on the brink of losing her patience.

"Time! Damn it! Time! We don't have the goddamned time!" Jamie burst, her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring, giving Maia the undue hope she may be having an aneurysm. "The Council needs closure on this. Too many people are talking about it, and we need at least a fucking working theory on John's death. If he fucked the wrong person, fine. So be it. Then find the someone he'd been fucking. Make a fucking story around it."

"Fine, fine. I'll look into it..." Maia said irritably, eager to say anything to end the story.

"And what about the former corporate estate owners who moved there? The reformed ones. Do you know if they had a hand in it?" Jamie asked, narrowing her eyes.

This brought pause to Maia, as she didn't think Jamie had known about the corporate estate owners--and she'd been saving the knowledge of them for when it could be useful to hold off Jamie's demands. "I don't think they had a hand in it... Wait. How do you know about them? I haven't confirmed that information yet or uploaded it in my report."

Jamie snorted, "Who the hell do you think arranged for them to settle on Salt Spring?"

"...What? You did? I don't understand. They're former estate owners... We know them. We know how bad they are. How can you trust them..." Maia tried to wrap her head around the idea that the enemy had been consciously and willing allowed to settle on the island. "Are you telling me that the Council knows about them too? Why wasn't I told of this either?"

"Maia. Puuhleeeeeeeease," Jamie groaned, throwing her head back. "Can we pretend that you're not a naive bumpkin for a minute here? Of course the Council knows about them. The corporate estate owners - reformed estate owners, I should say - had resources that we needed, and they were willing to trade them for asylum on the island. They needed us since they'd lost most of their assets and their options were either to get eaten alive by the other corporate estate owners, or make a deal with us. So they made the deal. Of course you don't know about it. No shit. No one besides the Salt Springers know about them, and we want to keep it that way, because we know what the optics would be with the rest of the Liberation communities."

"You could have told me!" Maia said angrily, annoyed that she hadn't been in the loop in spite being the bloody Messiah; what point was there of having a higher position and a fancy title if it didn't give you privileges like extra information? "I'm investigating a case here on the island, and it would have been useful to know!"

"Yes. I agree. But that's assuming that I didn't want you to come to your own conclusions about it... without your biases coming to the conclusion of the worst case scenario that the estate owners would be automatically guilty and we'd cause the whole Liberation to have a witch hunt against them and having the situation go completely out of control, while the real killer would get away," Jamie grimaced, crossing her arms. Arching her eyebrows, Jamie continued expectantly, "Well? Are they involved or not?"

A number of unpleasant thoughts and feelings went through Maia mind at that point, not the least of which was the desire to slap Jamie's face, but she also the intense irritation that she'd been intentionally kept in the dark like some damned child. Undeniably, she knew that if Jamie had told her beforehand about "reformed" estate owners, she would gone looking for information incriminating them. Indeed, looking back at her own instant reactions to Mark and Elaine, she would have assumed that there was trouble with the corporate estate owners after watching John's video--even though there was nothing that she could see that pointed at them (for now). So Jamie had been right: it was best that she hadn't known about the reformed estate owners.

Not knowing exactly what to say, Maia puffed her cheeks, exhaled loudly and shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe they had something to do with it. Maybe not. John had made a video about two of the reformed estate owners here, Mark Hollister and his wife Elaine. It was just his same silly nonsense. For a minute I thought they might have done it, but I've asked around about them, and no one seems to think anything of them." Grasping at anything that would salvage her reputation, Maia said, "On the other hand, I'm going to a dinner party tonight hosted at Mark and Elaine's place. I'll see if I can get more information then and if anything I'll be able to positively rule them out of the picture. That Elaine woman seems pretty nosy, so I'll probably be able to find out who John's been fucking then too. Is that satisfactory?"

Jamie sniffed. "A dinner party? Better than nothing, I guess. I hope something useful comes out of it. Check back on the accident site too. The report you uploaded didn't have a micrometer scan. I want to see if that comes up with anything."

"A micrometer scan?" Maia protested the additional test that Jamie was ordering her to do; while it wasn't a hard procedure, it meant she'd have to lug her equipment back up the mountain. "Why should I do that? No one uses it anymore. It never brings up anything."

"For fuck's sake, just do it!" Jamie snapped back impatiently. "The test is standard for investigations and if you don't do it, it'll look like we're hiding something. Ok, Madame clueless goddamn Messiah? Just do your job and report back to me when you have anything."

And with that, Jamie's image disappeared out of Maia's vision, leaving her with the feeling of being released back into the wild, but also with the significantly more unpleasant feeling of having been unable to put in the last word. Maia regretted telling Jamie about John being killed; if she'd wanted, she could have easily ignored the simulation and overruled its results. Yet, a part of her was worried about who killed John, and whether it was a sign of a some other larger invasion - even though the rational part of her said it was ridiculous. But the bottom line was that, as much as she hated the current situation, Maia would never be able to live with herself if she'd ignored a potential danger sign that threatened the Liberation.

Getting up from John's desk and rummaging around for clean clothes, Maia doubted that she would learn much from the dinner party. Mark and Elaine were too savvy to be easily manipulated to reveal anything that would damn them. In the end, going to the dinner party would be an exercise in ruling them out as suspects, while possibly getting some kind of lead, and hopefully finding out where John had been fooling around with. Plus, Maia consoled herself, Rene was going to be there - and there wasn't anything wrong with getting a little pleasure out this business, was there?

With a dreamy smile spreading across her lips, Maia slipped into some clean slacks and buttoned up a blouse, stepped out of John's camper, and started walking down towards the community plaza, where a few moments later, she found Mark waving at her pleasantly, and who promptly opened the door for her into his black jeep. Some amount of affable small talk and steady driving later, during which Maia attempted to wheedle information out of Mark but received nothing but the same, skillful verbal dodges, she noticed that Mark had been taking them up the island, rather than south to the Fulsom Valley, where she'd seen them in John's video.

Noticing also that Mark had chosen to drive along secluded paths, taking sharp turns up winding roads that barely seemed noticeable, Maia had a brief and sudden fear that he may be taking her somewhere to be killed, like John, and whether or not this whole scheme was their plan to wipe her out as well as the Messiah institution all together. Was this their plan? Was this how Maia was going to end her days? Thankfully, the cackling moohahaha laugher of the evil mastermind quickly dissipated in her mind, pulling back in embarrassed silence when the path began to be illuminated by tiki torches, along with festive sprays of led lights strung along the road.

As Mark pulled into a clearing with at least a good fifty or so vehicles, not to mention twice that many milling people, Maia frowned. This didn't look like the small dinner party that Ellen claimed it would be.

"Where exactly are you taking me, Mark? I thought this was supposed to be a small gathering," Maia asked, feeling out of place, as she saw how the guests were decked-out in fancy clothing, where the men wore suits and top-hats, and the women were wearing long dresses and garish hats. "This isn't the gathering I expected, and I don't think I have the right clothes for it..."

Mark chuckled, patting Maia's thigh; had he not been driving, she would have decked him for his infuriating patronizing. "True, we weren't the most honest when we said it would be 'small gathering', and I do apologize for that, but Elaine and I thought it would be fun to surprise you with this party. I'm sure that you probably don't have many parties like this in Vancouver, and certainly not with such an excellent crowd like this - Elaine has a very discerning eye when it comes to people and compatibility." Mark grinned widely at that, as he brought the jeep to a halt. "And don't worry about your clothes, my dear! This is the Bullock Lake Bash! Everything is provided for, including the clothes. This is the greatest party Salt Spring has to offer, and based on the tradition of Mr. Bullock himself, we do our best to make sure everyone will have fun with suitable pomp - even if they may not have the resources themselves." Pointing at a coach house at the far end of the clearing, he continued, "Just go to that little cabin there and you'll find a whole wardrobe you can choose from. I myself will be putting on my tuxedo and top-hat! When you're ready, follow the crowd and find us at the party!"

Not impressed at being played, but secretly feeling the excitement about a party building in her chest, Maia grudgingly decided to play along, allotting herself only two hours before going back to John's camper. When she stepped into the coach house however, she felt her self-imposed restrictions slacken, as she opened the door to see more than a dozen racks of fancy ball-room style dresses suspended with many boxes of shoes and hats spread all over the place. There were already a handful of other women in the room, trying on clothes and comparing them in the mirror, and Maia joined them, going up and down the aisles looking for a fun dress to wear. It wasn't that she was that into dressing fancily or costume parties in general; but it had been so long that she'd had an excuse to look good that she was swept up in the excitement.

Narrowing her search down to three dresses, Maia settled on a low-cut frilly vermilion-number that had an unreasonable amount of chiffon sprouting from everywhere. She topped it off with a black, velvet choker embedded with a red (plasticky dull) ruby and a dark grey bonnet with a white ostrich feathers sticking out of it. Rather pleased with herself, Maia twirled around once or twice in front of the mirror and stepped out of the coach house to join the party.

Not two steps out the door, she was stopped by a voice by her side,

"My, my, my! How lovely we are, daaarling! I knew you had excellent taste, Maia," Elaine drawled, holding out a fluted wine glass in one hand, as she sipped from an identical glass in her other hand. She was wearing a southern-style, antediluvian gown, complete with a brassiere and pearl necklace. Maia could almost hear someone cocking their shotgun and claiming the south will rise again. "I'm so delighted you could make it. I'm sorry we didn't tell you the whole story. You know how difficult it is to keep events like this high quality."

"That's quite alright. I have to thank you for inviting me. It's been a lovely surprise," Maia said graciously as she curtsied and inclined her head. Accepting the glass from Ellen, she took a sip, expecting the usual swill, or worse, some kind of non-alcoholic diluted fruit juice; but was completely taken aback discovering it was actual champagne. "Wow! Can this be? I can't believe it! But I thought we didn't have any more! Can it really be champagne?"

"Oh, you're so adorable, Maia. I love it," Ellen purred, linking her arm with Maia's and guiding her toward the well-lit area around the main house. "It certainly is the real thing! One of the last bottles of champagne ever corked before the heat waves and the mold wiped out the fields in France. I always ask them to bring out the best for the Bullock Bash. Not everyone gets a taste, so keep it to yourself. But enough of that. This is your first time here, isn't it? Come! Let me show you around!"

"Sure, sure," Maia smiled, warmed by the drink in spite of being annoyed with Ellen's overwrought manner that she supposed was in keeping with the over-the-top theme of the party.

As they walked over into the field, Maia saw a wide expanse of well-manicured green that overlooked a mid-sized lake, presumably Bullock Lake. Atop a hillock that sat in the middle of the green was a fully lit three-story house filled with loud music, live bands, and much carousing. Not too far away from the house, which was best described as a freaking mansion, was a huge bonfire around which were lounging chairs and people chatting amiably away.

Blinking at the incredible sight of wealth that she'd only seen on estate properties, Maia asked, "Is this your home then?"

"Oh, no! I wish!" Elaine laughed, putting her hand to her chest while angling her head to the side. "This is the historic Bullock Lake House. Mark and I only manage it for the Directorate. You know we're dedicated environmental preservationists, right? We take care of the property here as a land trust and make sure it's managed responsibly so the precious flora and fauna have a chance to thrive in peace and harmony. There are so many rare species that need protecting here!" Elaine positively beamed with the righteousness of her cause, as she made a shocked, utterly shocked face. "Could you believe that not too long ago, this property was farmed. Farmed? Could you believe it? All the precious endangered life was wasted and killed. Why would they be tearing up the very earth and land to steal its resources? Bless those farmers, but they were so terribly misguided. After talking to the Directorate, we relocated those people and reclaimed this area into what it's supposed to be. Do you like it?"

"It's lovely, very lovely," Maia said, knowing the appropriate response, while wondering how many people could have been fed with the land under cultivation. "You've done such great work here."

"Wait until you see the inside of the house! We've restored it to its original 1920s state. It's such a hoot!" Elaine giggled, as they neared the building. "And there's so many people I want to introduce you too. Ah! There he is. Edward! My daaaarling. He and his wife are the premier specialists on, what was it again? Spiny toad frogs! And not to forget Martha, naturally, she's our resident ornithologist..."

So began a series of introductions and networking that Maia should have known to expect. Of course, Elaine was using Maia's presence to improve her social standing; and, as much as she hated being trotted out like some kind of unlocked achievement, the experience was instructive. Through the myriad of handshakes, air kisses, and teeheehee's, a rough sketch of the island's community began to shape itself in Maia's head, of which she'd had an inkling of at the Communal Devotional. The members of the climbing cult, made obvious by their slim, tanned features and iron grips, were, based on how little they fawned, the least concerned of their status, and were thus on the very top of the social strata. Meanwhile, the "regulars" of the island, obsequious and nervous as they were in everyone's presence and eager to please, were on the bottom social rung. Scattered in between were the likes of Elaine, whose influence was a direct relationship to how close they were affiliated with the Directorate; Elaine, as the wife of one of the Directorate member, was undoubtedly at the very top of influence, or close to it.

The only question mark was how Stefan and his band of ReWilders fell into mix. Were they affiliated to the climbers somehow? Or did they somehow hold some influence that was not immediately apparent? Suffice it to say, given their current positions of power, it seemed unlikely that the climbers or Mark and Elaine--and by extension any of the reformed estate owners--would have an interest in killing John as they would be risking the status quo in which they were too comfortable. As Maia had already anticipated, her insights into the community did nothing but confirm that none here had a political motive to John's death. As for finding something about a personal motive, whenever she probed into John's relationships, people only inclined their heads and said "how sad and how we miss him" and excused themselves.

On the plus side, speaking of John became a rather good method to get out of conversations, and thus freed from any gadflies, Maia was able to wander the house, where she found that everyone was dressed, like her, in period clothing, and specifically as wealthy folks from a bygone era. Yet, in addition to being a simple costume party, there was a dimension of cosplay to it, where everyone was also enacting the part of rich folk: many were smoking cigars, adjusting monocles and waving their arms grandly, as they said "rich-folk" things like,

"It's grand isn't it? So grand to be dancing in these choice surroundings!"

"Yes, indeed! A true spectacle to remember."

"They've outdone themselves this time. Such a magnificent engagement."

"And these hors d'oeuvres are divine! I simply must have the recipe."

"Such a high, impeccable quality, I must say. Nothing but the best!"

On and on it went, in silly imitation of what they thought romanticized rich behavior might be like--minus the abuses of power, vindictiveness and exploitation. Though it was distasteful to Maia on a very visceral level, she also knew that imitating their former oppressors gave vent to any of their anxieties and helped neuter their fears. No doubt, the desire to behave as the enemy was made appealing in that they'd become taboo and any sense of exploitation had become unacceptable in the Liberation communities. However, as Maia walked around, the party environment began to strike slightly too close to home as she came into earshot of some kind of smoking room, where lounging on large plush leather couches were several men smoking cigars and drinking a dark fluid from glasses that was probably meant to simulate brandy. They weren't alone. On the arm of each couch was a scantily clad woman, giggling away. The scene was so reminiscent of the estates that Maia had to remind herself they were play-acting; but some of it was too incredibly convincing, especially as one monocled man was saying to the group,

"Let me tell you, things couldn't be better," the monocled man said languidly, squeezing the girl's thigh, who laughed happily.

"Yes, I see what you mean," a slim, well-tanned man agreed, adjusting his top hat, as he puffed a big smoke cloud into the air. "We're so happy here, aren't we. Darling, would you mind filling this?"

"Hmmmm... as you say, old boy. As you say," another man said cautiously as he scratched at his chin on which a fake beard had been crookedly glued on. "After this Liberation, things have changed, but this peace we have is something that we can benefit from."

"Well, that's what I've been saying!" the first man said, widening his eyes. "There are benefits to a proper dystopia. We can remake the society into a significantly better place."

"A novel idea truly... A proper dystopia... I would never have thought it, but the results speak for themselves," the top-hatted man nodded, as he stroked the leg of the girl, who Maia could see was smiling with glazed eyes and was practically falling off the chair's arm. "A proper dystopia has its benefits if managed properly."

"Well, I've yet to be convinced completely" the fake-bearded man said, as he frowned at Mark. "This peace has to continue for it to be viable. The benefits of it must spread to all, or else there'll be..."

"Yes, yes. The benefits do spread don't they? Isn't this evidence enough?" the monocled man said waving his arms.

"Perhaps, perhaps... but any hint of inequality and..." the fake-bearded man said, his hand lifted warningly.

"Nonsense. The inequality isn't the issue. It never was," the monocled man shook his head. "It's the flow of benefits. That's the key. Instead of trickle down, it must be brook. Something palpable. Something that others can commit to and make others tolerate some restrictions. That's the key."

"Very wise. Very. Innovative even," the top-hatted man said. "Indeed, indeed, indeed. The results speak for themselves. A proper dystopia to be modeled by all."

"Now, Bea, would you mind singing for us? You have such a lovely voice," Mark said to the woman on his arm.

It took all of Maia's will to keep herself from running over and slapping the monocled man across the face and screaming at them. As Maia watched though, the girl started singing, but then stopped as she nearly fell over, tripping over her heels and causing laughter all around. That made Maia relax a little. Had this been truly a corporate or estate owner event, they would have had the girl dragged out and flogged for not properly obeying their orders. Looking carefully, there were signs the women were there by their own will. Indeed one of the "men" was a woman who was sitting similarly in crude imitation of the others. Most significantly was that the "corporate estate owners" were now taking off their smoking jackets and giving it to the women, who were taking their turns speaking as if they were the estate owners. So, fine, it was role-playing, but Maia still thought it was in terribly poor taste. Making light of the excesses of the corporate and estate owners made no sense to her, but then again, Maia's feelings around them were still flayed and raw.

Unable to stomach any more, Maia turned away, to be met by a tuxedoed man presenting a glass on a serving plate in front of him and saying,

"Would you like a drink, madame?" the man said bowing deeply, but then looked up and winked. It was Rene.

Maia laughed and replied with a curtsy, "Why yes, kind sir. What have you there?"

"A simple aperitif made with madame in mind. A mix of tonic water and essence of calendula," Rene said.

"How can I refuse?" Maia beamed, taking the cup and sipping from the drink without breaking her gaze with Rene's.

"Now perhaps you would like to walk with me in the garden by moonlight?" Rene said, offering his arm.

"Oh, my. Are you asking me to take our first promenaaaade?" Maia said, covering her mouth and batting her eyes.

"If I may be so bold, madaaaame," Rene grinned. "I am so taken by you beauty that I must. I simply must."

"I am swooning, sir. Swooning," Maia said swaying a bit.

"Then the promenade would be just the right thing."

"Ah, sir. You are so wise. I defer to your manly judgement."

"My arm, madaaaame."

"Thank you, siiiiir."

Walking out into the garden in a stately manner, Maia's hand lightly on Rene's arm, they wandered outside. It was a lovely crisp night, with the moon beaming above. Perfectly romantic. And as they moved outside, away from prying eyes, Maia leaned into Rene, and his arm reached around her waist, as they predictably got ready to passionately make-out.

Maia, however--with her cursed, stupid, ill-timed conscience rearing its damned head--had to break the moment by asking,

"Rene, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, so long as it isn't too personal," Rene grinned.

"I think I've seen everything there is to see," Maia laughed, tapping him on the bum.

"Oh, yeah? I still have some surprises," Rene said, twirling her around and pressed his lips against hers.

It was a perfect kiss that left Maia warm and tingly all over, but Jamie's voice was still in her head. Planting her hand in Rene's chest and pushing away, Maia looked at Rene, who seemed puzzled she was stopping their make-out session. "Rene, seriously. Can you answer a question for me?"

"Ok, sure."

"You have to promise."

"Promise? Geez... I'm not sure I can..."

"Rene. Please."

Rene frowned, but said with an easy smile. "Sure, I promise. What do you want to know?"

"What do you know about John? Did he have any enemies here? I keep asking people, but no one seems to want to answer," Maia asked.

"Ah, that..." Rene looked uncomfortably away. "No, he didn't have enemies that I know of. He wasn't the most popular person, but no one hated him that I know of."

"Okay..." Maia said, sensing Rene was hiding something. "And why weren't people fond of him?"

"Truthfully? It was because he got full membership to the climbing sanga before anyone else--without climbing a 5.13," Rene sighed and with some bitterness he added. "Hell, even I could climb harder than him and I'm still a probational member."

Maia nodded, pleased at getting somewhere, figuring maybe she could explore the disgruntled prospective climbing-member anger. "And so were people upset at it? Were they protesting or something?"

"No, of course not," Rene sighed. "No one could say a thing."

"Really? Why is that?" Maia asked. "Wouldn't people want to at least question the rules?"

"Because Harmony herself approved his membership," Rene growled.

"Harmony? Why would she do that?" Maia said knitting her brows.

"Well, the claim was that he'd demonstrated other skills for the community, and that he'd shown great necessity and it was useful to have him there," Rene said with a sigh. "You know, his videos and all that. No, I'm serious. That was the argument. The idea was that he was doing a service for the residents of Salt Spring that no one else could do, which was technically true."

"Ok, besides that bullshit. What's the real reason?" Maia said.

"Truthfully?" Rene said looking at Maia straight. "He was sleeping with her. At the time anyway. They broke up sometime before he died." Rene hastened to add: "Amicably, of course."

Ah. Whoa. That brought a new wrinkle to things. Maia tried to probe again, "Wow. Okay. So were people jealous or something? What's the deal?"

Rene was uncomfortable again, "Seriously, no one knows. No one would complain about Harmony's business."

"Why? Are people so well behaved?" Maia joked.

Rene gave her serious look that shut Maia up, "Be careful who you say that to, okay? You can say that to me, but don't let anyone else hear you say that."

"Okay..." Maia said, surprised at Rene's sudden change in tone.

"Look, can we talk about something else? How about I show you around here?" Rene sighed.

"Alright," Maia said, relenting.

Of course, Maia was not content, but she was at least satisfied she'd at least gotten somewhere--and with that very weak reasoning, she justified her taking the rest of the evening off. Yes, she knew she wasn't being a very good Messiah, but damn it, she deserved breaks too. Besides, she didn't want to push Rene away, who had thus far proven himself to be a good source of information, as well as good for some healthy recreational evening activities.

So, pushing away the thoughts of John, Jamie and what Rene had said, Maia continued the evening promenade with Rene, happily tumbling in the grass as they kissed and caressed each other... and continued doing so all the way back to John's camper. This time, Maia was pleased to say, with less booze in their system and more time on their hands, they both climaxed rather nicely.

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# Chapter 15

In another place altogether, at the end of another long eventful evening, the sounds of wheezing and huffing punctuated by exaggerated, plaintive moans were interrupted by a crystalline voice, tinged with an appropriate hint of fraternal camaraderie,

"Gentlemen, if you don't mind finishing up now. Our appointment with our new partners draws near and we still have a few agenda items to cover," Smooth-Face beamed, leaning back in his over-sized chair, one leg crossed perpendicularly over the other. As would have been expected, he'd indulged in the oral ministrations of the young, bored-looking scantily-clad woman standing behind his chair--but he'd spent most of the time cataloging and recording the bacchanalian activities and particular carnal inclinations of his guests. None of what they did was unusual or unacceptable in their circles, but knowing the weaknesses of the flesh was always useful information.

Roughly reaching behind his chair, grabbing "his" woman and plopping her into his lap with a shriek and giggle, Smooth-Face said, "I trust my hospitality has been to your satisfaction?"

Satisfied grunts and contented laughter responded Smooth-Face, as the attendees slapped away their respective women and buckled and buttoned their way back from their various states of undress. Had it not been for the particularly efficient nano-filtering and conditioning ventilation system, the entire room would have been filled with the overpowering aromas of souring sweat and various spilled body fluids. Whether the well-heeled exclusive members would have minded was another question.

As a point in fact, as everyone settled into their chairs, their attention turned to mirthfully cheering on and hooting at one member who wasn't quite done yet. Admittedly, the sight was amusing and amazing in its sheer physical absurdity: a fleshy, porcine man was drenched in sweat, his bald head beading and his face flushed red in uneven blotches, even though the only piece of clothing on his body was an unbuttoned silk dress-shirt. The focus of the man's exertions, a woman whose waist was as thick as the man's thigh, was bent over the table, bracing her arms and doing her best to stay still as the man's thrusts slammed into her. Fleshy-Man declared amidst high-pitched squeals,

"Excellent, hospitality. Excellent! Best time for me to use my pills. I've been saving them for an ass like this! Oh, fuck! Oh, shit! Hold on... hold on... hold on... Ah! Ah! Aaaaaah! ...Ahhhh..."

"I'm delighted. So delighted that we've enjoyed ourselves. Soon we'll be able to do so in the properties that are rightfully ours," Smooth-Face grinned, joining in the clapping that followed the end of Fleshy-Man's rutting that left him collapsed over the woman, who, even crushed, dared not move, though her grimacing made it clear she was having a hard time breathing.

If Smooth-Face was displeased by Fleshy-Man's lingering performance, he gave no indication, as he watched the half-naked corpulent man push himself back upright and begin rummaging for his clothes. Seeing the room was coming back under his control, Smooth-Face motioned with his hand, causing all at once for the women to trot out the room, while the white-uniformed serving-men came walking back in, one for each attendee and each bearing a tray with their target's preferred drink. Picking up his own pint glass filled with a lightly hopped brew, Smooth-Face raised his glass to everyone and toasted, "To our coming success, gentlemen. To our success and the reclaiming of what's rightfully ours."

Yet, a loud snort and pffff deflated Smooth-Face's moment, causing a brief impatient shadow to cross his face. Redhead-Boy, sitting across the table with his lips twisted into a wormy sneer, mocked the joviality in the room,

"You old fat fucks are hilaaaarious. All it takes is to get your dicks wet and some cheap-ass booze for you to believe any kind of bullshit. This fucker here sure knows your number." Redhead-Boy, who hadn't participated in the orgy at all, tossed his drink onto the table with contempt, ignoring Smooth-Face's wince, as the drink had been genuine triple-distilled mezcal and not the doctored liquor the others had. "A toast? A fucking toast? To what? To fucking nothing. You're celebrating a little early, aren't you? Ever hear of not counting your goddamned bitches before they've sucked your cocks? You are dreaming of shit you haven't seen and you're trusting bullshit that hasn't been proven."

"Wait a minute, that's uncalled for. The deal we've made with the Chinese means that we'll be getting back a foothold on the West Coast. Soon after it'll be a simple matter of wrenching everything back from the Uprising's grubby fingers" Smooth-Face said calmly and assuredly, dramatically swiping his hand inwards and making a fist, while still maintaining his pristine smile, knowing full well the others were carefully watching his reaction.

"Fuck off, dumb ass. A simple matter? Regaining the entire coast of the continent and subjugating a population that no longer depends on our rules is simple?" Redhead-Boy sneered. "Despite what you say, we know our so-called 'new partners' have no reason to work with us."

"On the contrary," Smooth-Face retorted confidently. "They know very well their little Uprising is unsustainable, and in fact we've been providing them equipment to prove our good faith. So far they've been acting according to our deal as well. That, sir, is undeniable. Ergo, they know how useful we are and how well we can work with them. Besides, they'll be profiting from our shipment as much as we are."

Just as appreciative clapping was about to start, Redhead-Boy dashed it all with a disgusted snarl: "You. Fucking. Fools. No wonder you lost what you did. You all deserve to lose everything."

There was uncomfortable shifting and muttering in the room as Redhead-Boy's words stung. Knowing this was a contest of wills, they waited for Smooth-Face to respond to Redhead-Boy and, if he were able to, put him in his place. But, instead of Smooth-Face, Fleshy-Man, probably high on the endorphins and his performance enhancers, took it upon himself to say,

"Listen, boy, you're speaking disrespectfully to our host here and I should teach you some manners if you weren't..."

Before Fleshy-Man could finish his sentence, his face and head splattered apart onto the table with a loud bang, spraying bone and brain bits in a bloody arc, while his body slackened and crumpled to the floor. The person responsible for prematurely interrupting Fleshy-Man's unwise words was the white-uniformed attendant behind him, who, after holstering his heavy caliber side arm back within his jacket, brushed himself off and took a step back to stand back in line with the other attendants precisely as before, as if the moment before had been erased.

As the shock of the sudden killing passed, the meeting members leapt from their chairs crying out,

"What's going on here? This is fucking nuts! That servant just shot the man!"

"Who sanctioned this? Did we approve it? We didn't vote on this!"

"This is fucking nuts! Why is this happening? We're supposed to safe here, right?"

"We were guaranteed our safety. Guaranteed!"

"Are they all going to take us out? What the fuck?"

"Holy shit! And we surrendered our weapons too. I knew I should never have done that."

"Why aren't the other attendants doing anything? Why are they just standing there?"

"That's an exceedingly good question," Smooth-Face said at last, after watching the rogue attendant kill Fleshy-Man and then sitting in silence, as his smile slowly migrated downwards into a thin line. This wasn't to say he wasn't doing anything. During the hysterical hullabaloo that followed Fleshy-Man's execution, he'd been attempting to subvocalize his commands through his netset, ordering the other attendants to detain the killer; and yet, the only thing the attendants did in response was to stand still and look impassively into the distance. Staring fixedly at Redhead-Boy, Smooth Face said calmly, "I am wondering why my staff is not responding to my orders, though I suspect that it has something to do with our esteemed member there."

Redhead-Boy laughed, throwing his hands in the air as if he'd been caught, and donned an impish grin as he admitted, "Yes, you got me. I ordered the hit on that disgusting fucker. And yes, I bribed the servants in the room right now. It wasn't that expensive to do, you know. You really should pay your help more if you want to ensure their loyalty. Bottom line is that they belong to me now and... they are fully armed."

"I see. I see also that you've deactivated the autogun turrets in this room as well," Smooth-Face gritted impassively at Redhead-Boy's smug expression. A pulsing muscle at the side of his jaw was the only indication of the roiling emotions within him. "I'd like you to know that my security forces are behind that door and even if you do kill all of us, you will not leave my compound alive, nor will you gain anything from it, as our accounts are cyphered into our names."

"Enough, enough. No more dick measuring necessary. I mean no harm. I give you my word on my family's name that I am here to work with you. None of us can defeat the Uprising alone and we all need each other's resources," Redhead-Boy appeased, putting his arms up in surrender. Then pointing at Fleshy-Man's corpse, he amended, "Except that idiot. He's been dead weight to our group for too long, but not only that he also didn't have anything to contribute to us - except his wonderful personality, of course. This is a fun fact for you to consider: did you know that his assets had been wiped clean by the Chinese market? Or that he'd been trading information with the Uprising about us so he'd stay unharmed by them? No? Oh, yes, it's true. I'm uploading the evidence to you now. As you can see, he was a fucking traitor to his class and that's something that me and my family could not tolerate."

As murmuring in the room spread in tandem with the contemptuous looks being given to Fleshy-Man's corpse, Redhead-Boy looked squarely at Smooth-Face and said, "I'm also unwilling to tolerate any bullshit promises or empty actions. This deal you claim to have made with the Chinese. I don't trust it. None of us should and yet here we are. Why? Because we're desperate. We need this win on the West Coast. We've all invested into it. That fucking shipment cost us a fortune to scrape together and if it doesn't go through, we'll be fucked. So, you'll have to excuse me if I don't want to be entertained with bitches and booze. I don't want to be soothed or distracted with meaningless words. I want a fucking guarantee this plan will work."

Assenting grumbles underlined Redhead-Boy's concerns, as the shock of the murdered colleague dissipated. An irrational killing was a thing that brought a justifiable concern for their hides, but a killing based on punishment and demonstrating one's power was an element that they were comfortable with. Now, with the pacifying effects of liquor and sex-slaves fully wiped away, their worries about their wealth and status came back into focus, causing them to consult among themselves and break the unanimity and support that Smooth-Face had worked to manufacture.

His perfect smile returning, Smooth-Face took a moment to gaze around the table in a slow, measured arc that suggested calm and control before addressing them,

"Colleagues. Your concerns are understandable. Like you, I am not in a secure situation and I am dependent on having positive results on this endeavor. There is no doubt that the risk in this operation is very high--nearly unacceptably so. These are not regular times though, and our risk assessment model is not the same as when we are not in crisis. And so, I am convinced that these risks are worthwhile, given how much we stand to gain. Admittedly, our total potential gains have been something I have had to keep to myself for security reasons, but now at this late hour, I can reveal them as well as the complete involvement of our partners, the Chinese."

Smooth-Face paused for effect, tucking his hand into his vest pocket and leaning back into his chair, as he ordered his netset to release a batch of files he had been hoping to keep to himself. As people opened the files and hmm'ed appreciatively, Smooth-Face observed that Redhead-Boy was still looking at him with his cocky little look. Doing his best to ignore it, he continued,

"As you know, even though the Chinese have been willing to send us military advisors, until now they have declined helping us directly. Their claim is that the Uprising is an internal affair - even as the bastards have been snatching up our foreign investments and taking all they can from us. Not that we'd do any different. However, with our last deposit, we've not only freed our assets, which you can see has now been confirmed, but we're also finally getting direct military aid and offensive capabilities. Not only that they have committed to directly intervene by sending their own troops in. Chinese military troops. Gentlemen. We all know the Uprising has been more trouble than any of us have anticipated or thought possible from a bunch of hippies, but even they cannot withstand a fully equipped army! The only thing we have to do to make it happen is to gain a toehold on Salt Spring and they will be able to legitimately say that they are defending us. On that front, I assure you that the preliminary reports from our partners have been very positive indeed and everything is going according to plan. Soon, it will be a question of expanding and getting our property back. Success, gentlemen! Success is at our very doorstep!"

Redhead-Boy's response was as immediate as it was annoying: giving Smooth-Face the slow-clap, he proclaimed with big, theatrically-wide eyes, "Braaaaavo. Braaaaaavo. Our savior is here. Look! We have our very own messiah too! He'll bring us everything we've ever dreamed of. Will it rain wet pussies and gold nuggets too? Surely that's part of the package deal the Chinese are promising us, right? Braaaaavo."

The chortling in response to Redhead-Boy's antics was not the reaction Smooth-Face was hoping for, as he said through tight, white lips, "Perhaps, sir, besides merely criticizing this plan, you have a better one then? Perhaps you may have something practical to suggest? Or are you planning on killing someone again?"

"No more killing today. Probably. My family has always taught me to use executions judiciously, or else people would get bored with it. You know what I mean? I don't want people to think, 'Oh, just another death, let's be on our way.' That aint right! Killing has to retain its ooompf and pizazz!" Redhead-Boy said enthusiastically, staring piercingly at Smooth-Face all along, whose only reaction was a slight twitch in the eye. Making an apologetic frown and shrug, Redhead-Boy said, "But you're right. In terms of a plan, I don't have a better one."

"Good. Then we'll proceed as..." Smooth-Face said officiously.

"However," Redhead-Boy interjected, raising his hand. "I'd like to add a few amendments. Simple ones, of course, and things we can vote on as per your Robert's Rules."

Smooth-Face's smiling expression was rigid, as he said, "That's entirely reasonable, and I'd be too happy to..."

"Here's the first motion," Redhead-Boy said smoothly, in a voice filled with innocence. "I don't know how much the Chinese are paying you to fuck us over with that shitty deal, but I'm not inclined to become a Chinese vassal any time soon. So my first motion is for us to vote on removing the Chinese from the equation. Motion seconded?"

"No! Wait! Are you insane?! We can't do that!" Smooth-Face said aghast, as the words spilled out of his shaken expression. "Do you have any idea how much money they have in escrow from us! And how the hell will you 'remove' them? You don't just remove a military presence."

"Sir, you're speaking out of turn, but I'll allow it in this case," Redhead-Boy grinned generously. "Our money is safe. Money isn't the issue. It's the creation of value that we need to be getting. Dollars, yuan, euros, rubbles... We all know that they're merely imaginary and we all we have to do is print more--which we can do, but the real issue this: We lack credibility to back the value of our money. We can regain our credibility once we take control of our territory again and make sure we don't get fucked by goddamned foreigners that you're clearly in bed with. No need to argue with that, we know it's true." Redhead-Boy raised his hand to keep a very flushed and reddened Smooth-Face from interrupting. "And how should we kick them off? Easy peasy. Let them intervene with their troops. Let them get bloodied and tired. After they're done, we'll just kill them. And if you're wondering how again to do that, I've already positioned my estate's crack security troops in the Straight and they're ready to act. So, once more: motion to vote on removing the Chinese from the equation. Is the motion seconded?"

"Motion seconded," a number of voices rejoined.

"Excellent. May we have a show of hands of who votes on removing the Chinese, as per my suggestion?" Redhead-Boy said sweetly, raising his hand and looked around the table. Every member raised their hand, leaving Smooth-Face sitting alone without his hand raised. "A majority. How wonderful. Motion passed."

"This is unacceptable. The vote is happening under duress. It has no legitimacy," Smooth-Face protested in a tight, choked voice.

"Careful, you are speaking out of line and I have one more motion to put forward - one that I know you'll want to hear," Redhead-Boy said, raising a warning finger. "Now you may think I don't like you. Not true. You're fine as far as a person goes. You also may think I want you removed from your position. That is even less true. I certainly don't want to be in your seat. I actually think you do a rather good job as our operations manager. The only thing I'd like to do is to make sure you have the correct incentive to do your job properly, which, I believe, is the main reason why you've come up with these dumb-ass plans. A little nudge is all you need and all will be juuuust dandy. So. I propose that your assets be the guarantor of the success of the Salt Spring operation. Now, I know that your assets won't be enough to repay for our costs, but at least it will be something. Motion to vote on accepting my proposal seconded?"

"Motion seconded."

"Let's vote then!" Redhead-Boy said happily without pause, raising his hand as he said to Smooth-Face in an o-so-reasonable tone, "Surely, you have no problems voting in favor of this. You have complete confidence in your plan, do you not? Or don't you?" Smooth-Face, trapped in a corner and with all the eyes in the room probing him, grudgingly raised his hand, as he stared balefully at Redhead-Boy. Looking around the raised hands again, Redhead-Boy happily announced: "A majority! Even unanimity. Splendid. Together we shall prevail, will we not? Proposal to use our operations manger's assets as a guarantee for the project, accepted. I believe I am now content." Redhead-boy settled back into his chair and crossed his legs. The attention was still on him, however, but he was quick to deflect this by gesturing at Smooth-Face, while saying, "And now, I believe your first test is coming up. Do we not have a meeting coming up with our new partners?"

The attention of the room swiveled back to Smooth-Face, who, after having been thoroughly outmaneuvered, was as expressionless and as lifeless as one of his proxy-bots. The power play that just occurred had of course been very entertaining to everyone in attendance; those who had already been annoyed with Smooth-Face's leadership were only too delighted to see him be taken down, while those who had been siding with him, knew better than to stay on a sinking ship - and there was no loyalty among rats, especially fat, overfed ones with the tendency towards cannibalism. Once the toast of the room, Smooth-Face knew his situation was currently precarious, and, as much as he would like redress the feelings of humiliation and fury, he also knew he didn't have the luxury to act on them, and had to bide his time until he could.

After a moment of tense silence that, in Smooth-Face's mind, was filled with a myriad of bloody fantasies, his mouth twisted slightly upward as he said,

"Why, yes. We do have our meeting with our contacts. They'll be updating us on the Messiah's latest activities and whether we'll be able to act sooner than later. My netset has been reminding me of it during these... unexpected proceedings. We have precisely two minutes and half to prepare for our meeting, which should be enough time to make the room presentable." Smooth-Face gestured at the Fleshy-Man's body, ordering it to be removed, but frowned when none of the servants moved until Redhead-Boy inclined his head.

"Now, gentlemen, remember that they will be present through the proxy-bot so they will be able to see all of us. However, I have included a refinement program within their visual feed so they will be perceiving our expressions as being truthful - so no need to worry about saying anything or making any promises you can't keep. They do have the impression that they will be getting a good deal, and there's no reason why they shouldn't continue believing it - until the moment we take that way. Alright, gentlemen. Thirty seconds to contact. Let's meet our new partners."

There were snickers all around, as everyone straightened their ties and smoothed their hair over. Fleshy-Man's body was hauled off the floor and the table quickly wiped down. Glancing around the table and giving a nod, Smooth-Face turned his chair to face one of the proxy-bots that had been deactivated the entire meeting. Indicators flashed and blinked as the proxy-bot's systems came alive, and the head slowly lifted up, presenting a blank, darkened screen that now flickered and turned on, its tracking systems registering the people in the room and referencing its position. At last, a soft voice issued from the machine, "Systems activated. Confirm connection?"

"Confirmed," Smooth-Face said aloud. "Initiate contact."

As the proxy-bot's face began to form on the screen, the machine sat up in a proper position, crossing its legs and placing its hands on the table, as the user prepared its baseline protocols. Accustomed to this kind of adjusting, the meeting members waited patiently until the user was ready. Finally, the image resolved and the meeting members leaned forward to get a better view: it was the image of stern, professional-looking woman.

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# Chapter 16

Maia rubbed her forehead, ridding herself of the frown that had been forming, threatening to leave her with unsightly wrinkles. Rather annoyingly, her frowns had been far more common in the last few days and far more difficult to control--not terribly surprising given how frustrating it's been trying to resolve John's death nonsense business. Mind you, the unexpected surprise of her tumbles in the sack with Rene had brought smiles that counteracted the frowns - but there was only so much that would do, what with the constant pestering and pressure from Jamie and the Council for Maia to complete the investigation and get some results; just that previous evening before passing out with Rene, she'd received two testy messages from Jamie and three more from the other Council members. And so, waking this morning again to the damned horn and tumbling out of a sadly empty bed (Rene had snuck out to cook breakfast; but he'd left a sweet note on the pillow), she was determined to go back up to John's site and get some concrete evidence that her investigation could use. Marching down to the community plaza, she'd even formulated a decent plan of action with SriSharma and sought him out to talk it over.

...But SriSharma wasn't at breakfast. In fact, not only was he nowhere to be found, no one seemed to know where he was either. Everyone she asked gave the same apologetic shrug and smile, suggesting that he may be out on Directorate business for the Solstice Celebration that evening. Though a little miffed at his disappearance and also the fact that he himself had wanted to chat with her, Maia figured the poor guy had likely been sent on some ridiculous errand like plucking the first virgin shoots of the highest arbutus tree or finding a piece of untouched quartz with precisely five pink veins or some other silliness for their ceremonies.

It wasn't only SriSharma who was busy with getting ready for the Solstice Celebration. As far as Maia could tell, the entire climbing community was a-tizzy with preparations for the evening celebrations, to the extent that instead of chatting and eating a leisurely breakfast as they usually did, most had wolfed down their meals and rushed off to complete their tasks, which varied from braiding slings and lengths of ropes into complex mandalas, to polishing and repolishing biners until they shone like mirrors, to cleaning foul-smelling climbing shoes and perfuming them with incense. Hell, even MahaLindy, who Maia had noticed had the habit of masticating each mouthful until they were pulverized into goo, had eaten uncommonly quickly and disappeared along with a small retinue of followers to do whatever it was that she did. This Solstice Celebration affair was apparently some serious business.

With her own timeline ticking down, Maia didn't have the wherewithal to wait for SriSharma to show up, and much less to look for the man, so she headed back up the path to Maxwell alone, lugging her gear on her back (which she was perfectly capable of doing, but having SriSharma act as a porter had been so much more pleasant). Her plan was to do as Jamie had asked and rescan the area on a micrometer level band, and come up with the no-results that would silence the woman. It was just a stupid test. All it did, in ideal conditions, was retrace the steps anyone would have taken into the area for the last month by tracking the pheromonal echoes of anyone in the area. But of course, with RajTwight's climber-pilgrims having trampled everything, it would be difficult to isolate the different paths. If she was lucky, she might be able to get an indication of oldest path that lead up to John's corpse - which should be the path the killer had taken to deposit the body. Not that knowing where the killer was coming from would be terribly helpful, as all it would tell her the path they took; but perhaps it could give her some clues on where to look. Hopefully, anyway. It wasn't like Maia's investigative skills had been proving to be that effective.

Once Maia reached the site, she pulled out her gear from her bag and surveyed the area, letting out a long sigh. Even without John's body lying there, the place had a terrible, imminent-disaster feel to it. It didn't help that the place a ridiculous mess. Whole swaths of bushes and branches had been tossed about, leaving nothing pristine as a result of RajTwight's rampaging climber-pilgrims. Setting up the scanner and initiating the micrometer setting, the progress meter slowly loaded as the scanning initiated, making a rough model of the area, tracking on the traces of pheromones, and then isolating deviations from the estimated norm which might indicate body movement. Finally, using a bootstrapping program, the scanner would itemize the deviations, identifying and discarding those most likely to have been made by animals, and retaining those potentially made by humans. Just as Maia had predicted, as the scan completed it flashed the hot mess of movements that she knew were from RajTwight's congregation. And just as predictably, as she could have told Jamie, any trace older than that had been brushed into nothingness. The one thing she could say was that all the trails came from the beginning of the path, and none from the outer edges. This wasn't terribly surprising as it was the logical access point from the main path that Maia herself had took. In short, she had no useful information. Ah, well. At least she could say to Jamie that she tried.

With the micrometer scan having yielded a big ol' batch of nothing, Maia felt a sinking sensation of despair and directionlessness, as she again tried to make sense of John's death. Who could possibly want to kill John? She didn't even have a motive. The idea of looking who he had slept with had only yielded that he'd slept with the Director herself, which only suggested that he would be untouchable, rather than a target, even given the fact that they'd split up some time before his death. Sitting down onto the ground, Maia collected her thoughts, thinking of the players on the island, and tried to imagine what the killer could possibly have gained.

However, just as she was listing everyone off suspects in her head, loud crashing cymbals broke her concentration. Oh, no. Not again.

"Mahacore! Praise Hanuman! Praise the Infinite Crag! Glory to Hanuman!"

Coming down the path was RajTwight and his climber-pilgrims, though this time there were only two of them, as opposed to the small horde from last time. As before, they were wearing saffron robes decked with chalky slings and strands of rope, but this time the obnoxious noise was coming mainly out of the gaunt cymbal-slamming dark-haired man, while RajTwight and a muscular woman whose dark hair was whitened with chalk-marks were carrying a granite carving of Hanuman, which, from the strain on their faces was extremely heavy. Nevertheless, they wailed in unison along with all the noise generated by the cymbal-crashing follower,

"Praise Hanuman! We reclaim this land for Glory of Hanuman! Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore!"

Maia fumed as she watched RajTwight make their slow progress toward her. Seriously, were they following her? While their presence would no longer risk any of the evidence being damaged, the entire area was still restricted. Plus, she would have thought having Harmony intervene last time would have got that idea across. Obviously, it hadn't been sufficient to get past RajTwight's religious zeal.

Stomping up the path to meet them, Maia stood in their way, her arms crossed. "Aaaaaalright. That's as far as you go. I see you're taking Hanuman out for his morning constitutional, but you'll have to take him for a walk somewhere else."

RajTwight, his brow slick with sweat, laughed in Maia's face and horked up a chunk of mucus that he spat at her feet. "Fucking Messiah. You're fucking nothing. You're a fucking construct of the goddamned Council. You think we don't know? You think I'll acknowledge a false god? Fuck you. I follow Hanuman! Hanuman is the sole authority I follow."

"Mahacore! Praise Hanuman! Praise the Infinite Crag!" the two climbing-pilgrims screamed hoarsely; the one dark-haired man was still going strong, while a slightly slower, weaker cry came out of the chalky woman sharing Hanuman's holy load.

Maia's face flushed at RajTwight's insolence, as she replied calmly, "That may be so, but perhaps you'd like me to call your Director again to remind of you that this area is restricted. Or is she someone you'd like to go on record saying is nothing to you too?"

RajTwight bared his teeth as he snapped back defensively, "I'm doing nothing wrong. You can't prove anything. I'm completely within my Directorate-approved rights and mandate. I'm purifying this area by installing Hanuman in this plot. I'm the ritual holder of the community and it is my duty to keep this area pure and sacred!"

"Enough with the bullshit, ok?" Maia dismissed, hoping her contempt would be effective in reaching the fanatic. "I know this has nothing to do with ritual. You're just trying to mark your territory. Just run along now and fight your little squabbles with Stefan later, ok?"

"Nothing to do with ritual?! Everything has to do with ritual!" RajTwight yelled indignantly, straightening his back, momentarily making the Hanuman statue wobble and forcing the other holder to struggle to keep it stable. "It is my right to be here! It is my duty granted and blessed by Hanuman! I will not listen to some outsider about what's..."

"THEN MAYBE YOU'LL LISTEN TO ME!" a voice boomed from behind Maia. It was Stefan, who, apparently in addition to needing to be naked and brandish his genitals everywhere, also had to announce everything by hollering at the top of his lungs. Perhaps, Maia mused, as she watched Stefan standing with his feet wide apart, arms akimbo while he breathed heavily through flared nostrils, the yelling was to compensate for his lack of clothes.

"Guys, can we not do this?" Maia sighed, though knowing as she watched RajTwight's expression bunch up that a confrontation was inevitable.

Indeed, completely ignoring Maia and his two followers, RajTwight screamed at Stefan, "No! Never! I will not listen to you! This is my area now! It will be dedicated to Hanuman!" RajTwight had taken several steps forward, forcing his co-holder to again balance the serene-looking Hanuman.

"The hell it is," Stefan snorted loudly and spat a gleaming loogie to the side. "I manage this area. You know this. The Directorate decreed it. Or should the Messiah call up Harmony again to show you your place? Her head was impressive last time."

"What? How did you..." RajTwight sputtered, leaping forward, fully engaged in his argument and letting go of the Hanuman statue, which the cymbal crasher quickly grabbed hold of, and helped the woman lower the statue safely to the ground. "You were there! I knew it! I knew you were watching."

"Of course I was. Did you think that I didn't know your pathetic plans?" Stefan mocked, his arms still crossed as he faced RajTwight who'd bounded to within arms' reach of him. "I'd have intervened, but the Messiah did a perfectly good job in shutting you down." Glancing briefly in Maia's direction, he added, "Good job, by the way. Clever use of the scanner."

Maia stepped back, not wanting to get drawn in, but RajTwight was focused on Stefan as he screamed, "As the official ritual holder of Salt Spring Island, I am fully within my rights to bring a purification ceremony here! Fully within my rights! You're the criminal! I know you! You're a blasphemer!"

"Not that stupid shit again. I am no blasphemer. I honor the Holy Earth Mother, Life-Giver of all things..."

"Fuck your fucking Holy Earth Mother! She has nothing to do with Hanuman and our sacred Mission!"

"Nothing?!? It's established canon that she gave birth to Hanuman in the Sacred Tree upon the Infinite Crag! I honor the Holy Earth Mother, the life-giver of Hanuman."

"Fuck that shit! You made up that horseass ratshit story to legitimize your goddamned 'deep ecology ReWilding' agenda! You and your fucking academic word-twisting! Doctor of fucking philosophy my goddamn ass. It's meaningless! I know you! I'm on to you!"

"Do not disrespect the ReWilding! You know nothing about our task. It is the crucial step to save our WORLD! I am sanctified by the Directorate to carry my duty to the Holy Earth Mother! Your Hanuman can't touch us!"

"Ha! I got you there! You said 'your' Hanuman! I knew it! You don't follow Hanuman!"

"You asswipe turd monkey! I can say what I want! The Holy Earth Mother is Hanuman's Mother!"

"OK! ENOUGH! FOR FUCK'S SAKE! ENOUGH ALREADY!" Maia screamed. She'd reached her breaking point with RajTwight and Stefan's squabbling over obscure religious minutia. She'd hoped the situation would blow over, but the two leaders of their factions seemed intent on escalating the fight. While having them fight it out may have been something interesting to watch and perhaps even therapeutic for them, Maia had simply had enough of the constant yelling that completely ignored her authority as the Messiah; plus, she did need to get work done. "Just get out of here! This site is restricted to my investigation! Only me, the Messiah of the Revolution, as authorized by the Council and the Directorate can be here! You are in contravention of..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've heard all that before. Go ahead and call Harmony if you want," RajTwight snickered, as Maia attempted to do exactly that. "What's the matter? Can't get a hold of her? Maybe it has something to do with her conducting a ceremony up island and her being out of range of any of the signal repeaters."

Stefan snorted, expressing the same thoughts going on in Maia's head, though far less tactfully, "You're a fucking coward. The only way you can do things is by going the back door. You fucking waited for Harmony to be gone so you can come up in this sacred place. Fucking loser. You can't face the real truth that you're fucking idiot running a small kingdom of fucking idiots."

"What?" RajTwight yelled, his bile and outrage rising. "You have no idea! YOU are the idiot with the fucking meaningless kingdom! You are the fucker who is taking over areas without any right! I am taking back what is rightfully Hanuman's!"

Seeing the argument swing back again to the circular reasoning, Maia played the only card she could think of that may stop them:

"Ok, STOP! Stop already! You two get the fuck out of here! You know what? Both of you are now suspects in John's death, and your continued presence will get the two of you indicted for crimes against the People." Maia was pleased when RajTwight and Stefan were silenced and frowned as they tried to respond to her completely fabricated claim. Knowing she had to make it sound good, she pointed at Stefan and RajTwight, "It's obvious that both of you are John's potential killers, and I'll let you know that I'm currently accumulating evidence! You! Stefan! I know John's been making his videos lately, and I'll bet he came out here. I'll be he came out one too many times and you had to kill him for it." Stefan only frowned, before Maia turned to RajTwight. "You! I've developed a compelling case about your motives to kill John. You've been... ah..." Maia grasped at anything, but then inspiration struck: "You've been dismissive of John's climbing abilities. I actually have it on record! I'll bet you've been wanting to get rid of John for a long time. And, when you did, you deposited his body on Stefan's site, so you can reclaim the area."

Stefan growled, "Nonsense..."

RajTwight blinked, "Preposterous..."

"I'll have you know that everything is being recorded right now!" Maia said again, remembering right then to turn on her netset. "So get the fuck out of here!"

Not bad, Maia thought to herself as she watched the two consider her words. Even though she did make up everything, it did kind of have a ring of truth to it, and, she hoped, enough threat to get them to leave.

Unfortunately, RajTwight merely waved his hand, "Whatever. You've got nothing on me."

"Oh? This little Messiah's claim about you sounded reasonable to me," Stefan sneered.

"Bullshit. That's all it was," RajTwight shot back. "Her bullshit was just as reasonable about you. We all know John's been making vids. You never liked him either."

"I have nothing to say to you, you fucker," Stefan growled, puffing his chest. "You're a goddamned liar and a fraud."

"You're the fucking fraud! I've always known you're nothing!" RajTwight spat. "I've been waiting for something like this a long time! You watch! I'm going to get rid of your Holy Earth Mother!"

"You're fucking nothing. The Holy Earth Mother will reign here, you ignorant bastard!"

"Your time is coming to an end Stefan. You're toast! The era of needing your fucking clique of savages is ending"

"Never! The Truth of Deep Ecology will reign on this Island! Our mission will adopted by everyone!"

"I will fucking kick you off this island and burn your so-called Sacred Grove to the ground and erect the biggest temple to Hanuman ever built!"

"Yeah? Who's going to do that? You? You and your weakling idiots?"

"Weakling?!? We are strong! We have the breath of Hanuman in us! We're blessed by his Mighty Grip and Indomitable Forearms! I'll fucking show you who is weak!" RajTwight puffed his chest, bunching his fists by his side, as Stefan merely looked on and sneered. But RajTwight had been riled up beyond the point of no return.

Waving over at his two pilgrims, RajTwight commanded, "JaneMaha! DeviHugo! Get over here. You brought your ceremonial cams and nuts didn't you? We can use those. It's fucking time we show this fucker some goddamned manners. Come Solstice, no one will fucking notice you're gone. If you survive our little lesson here."

Stefan didn't change his stance or expression, as he watched RajTwight and his two acolytes pull out a series of climbing gear and tie them together into a loose shape of three vicious-looking flails. Though Stefan was a hulking man, RajTwight and his minions weren't pushovers either - and it wasn't like Stefan had anything protecting his more sensitive bits from harm. Maia wondered if she should be intervening in this smackdown, even considering that as the Messiah she shouldn't interfering with local political dynamics, but then also remembering that she did have the authority to stop any major violence that may occur.

Stefan, however, seemed entirely non pulsed in the face of RajTwight's malicious expression and his makeshift flails, apparently unperturbed by the prospect of being beaten. He instead said with a smirk, "Are you sure you want to do this, Raj?"

"Sure? Am I sure? I've been itching to do this a long time, Stefan. Feel free to run, by the way. We're all skilled at bushwacking, and I personally would love a chase. Invigorating. I'm going to take great joy in this. I'm going to make you regret ever praising your bitch Holy Earth Mother instead of Hanuman. Of course I'm fucking sure I want to do this. You think I'm worried of you telling the Directorate? Nah, by the time you crawl back, you'll see your time is done," RajTwight grinned, eying Stefan for soft spots, as he gave vent to his pent-up acrimony. As if remembering something, he slapped his forehead and said as he pointed his thumb at Maia, "Or maybe you mean the fucking Messiah there? Let her record it. I'd love to rewatch what we've done to you later. She has no right to interfere in local matters. That's a fucking Council policy too. So I'm not worried about her. She's fucking nothing. Everyone is nothing compared to Hanuman. Do you think can stop me? You can't. Nothing can stop me from putting you in your place."

"Nothing? Look around, you fucking twat," Stefan smiled widely, his surprisingly white teeth gleaming.

In a rush, over fifty of Stefan's naked, sun-crisped ReWilders emerged out of the woods; they'd been waiting and watching all along. A miasma of unwashed body odors washed over Maia as she was jostled and pushed by the oncoming horde of hairy bodies. Fortunately, it didn't appear that any of their physical contact had been intentional, as their main goal had been to secure RajTwight and his two minions, who didn't have the remotest chance of fending them off, even though they still tried. RajTwight only got a half swing of his flail before it was cut short and his arms were firmly grabbed and yanked around him. JaneMaha, on the other hand, wisely dropped her weapons on the ground and raised her hands, complying as her arms were tied together with her own slings. DeviHugo was the only one who got any licks in, swinging wildly and scoring a few hits with his flail that had two heavy cams in it, screaming wildly as he did so, until a number of bloodied, angry ReWilders, dragged him down to the ground and began to beat him until Stefan put a stop to it.

"That's enough. We don't want to kill them, at least not yet," Stefan growled, causing the ReWilders to stand up from DeviHugo's limp body.

True, Maia had no real incentive to help RajTwight and his people, but she'd had quite enough of having people stamping around her crime-site, even though it was ruined anyway. Elbowing her way to the center of the crowd, she yelled as loudly and as commandingly as she could once more, in spite of the annoying fact that she knew it would be futile,

"Yes! That IS enough! You guys can finish you stupid dick-measuring away from here. I am the Messiah and I am sanctioned to investigate the area of John Ellis' death. You are in contravention of your Directorate and the Council regulations! I order you to leave now! Do you hear me? Get out of here! Move it!"

"Pipe down, Messiah. This isn't your business, and as far as I can tell, you've finished your scan. I only intervened when I knew you were done, so don't feed me that bullshit," Stefan pointed a warning finger at Maia, putting her at a loss; indeed Stefan was right and she had obtained the information she needed, useless as it was. The wildman was more technologically savvy than his barbaric appearance let on. "Don't worry, Maia. I'm not planning on hurting you. But I want you to stay to watch what will happen to those who offend the Holy Earth Mother. Keep recording too. This is something the Council and all of the Liberated communities will like to see."

RajTwight, knowing that he was being referred to, started crying out indignantly, struggling against the many hands that held him, "Let me go! You can't do this to me! Get your hands off me! I'm a Directorate member! You cannot touch me! You will be punished! You have no right to hold me against my will!"

"Says the man who was about to beat me, Dr. Stefan Montview, who also happens to be a Directorate member," Stefan said, staring at RajTwight, who defiantly glared back. Looking around the ground, Stefan found the flail that moments ago had been leveled at him, and pointed it in RajTwight's direction. "It would make sense for me to do to you what you were planning on, wouldn't it? I should beat with your own religious climbing gear. That would be fair wouldn't it? I have ample witnesses that you were the one threatening me, including the Messiah no less, so I would be within my rights to serve out this justice."

"Wait! Justice? You can't serve out justice. That requires a Directorate trial," RajTwight protested, a slight hint of fear in his voice. "Besides, we were only intending to scare you, not inflicting any harm. You can't prove what didn't happen. We didn't do anything!"

"Ho, ho! Hiding behind regulations and technicalities, are we?" Stefan grinned, reveling in RajTwight's growing discomfort. But then he began stroking his beard thoughtfully and said, "But you're right. Though I would love to mulch you and bury you under a tree as an offering to the Holy Earth Mother, there was no true crime that was committed, even though you're a fucking liar and coward. Punishment is still warranted, and I do believe in fairness. But what would be appropriate for pathetic sack of shit like you?" Stefan snapped his fingers and motioned to his followers to make space for him. "You know what? I thought of the perfect thing. Get him on the ground. Face up."

"Stop! What are you doing! Get off me! I won't allow it! Fuck you all!" RajTwight screamed as he was forced to lie on the ground facing upwards. Struggling and squirming as he was, it took one person sitting on him, and one on each of his limbs to hold the wiry old man down, but ultimately they got him under control, and he started to quiet down. However, he immediately started struggling again, as Stefan walked closer to him and he began to understand what was going to happen to him.

"Wait! Stop! No! Arrrrrgggghhhh!!!!"

For the life of her, Maia could not look away. It was as if she'd been hypnotized - by Stefan's ass no less. As Maia watched in amazement (and some guilty and disgusted schadenfreude), Stefan squatted right on top of RajTwight's face and, with a few huffing and grunting shudders of his abdomen, released a turd onto the screaming climber's face. Firm and solid as the ReWilder's feces was - which Maia guessed was due to the protein-heavy diet of raw animals he'd been ingesting - RajTwight, not to mention everyone there, had the "benefit" of watching the giant poo ease out of Stefan's hairy anus, painfully slowly, as if it had been in slow-motion. But land upon RajTwight's face the piece of shit did, plunking onto his cheek and slithering down the side of his face, in spite of his violent attempts to dodge the oncoming strike. Maia wasn't sure whether the physics of the situation would have made it better for RajTwight not to move his head, as it seemed his moving didn't help in avoiding the shit at all, but with his head moving as fast as it did, the turd only met his cheek harder and it ended up behind his head... and smeared into his hair. In any case, even if he'd managed to dodge the first shit, he would certainly not have been able to avoid the small explosion of ball-bearing sized shits spraying out after - and nor would he have been able to avoid the stream of urine that Stefan systematically drenched RajTwight's face in as a final touch.

RajTwight's reaction was of course predictable and Maia couldn't blame him: "Ughhhh! You bastard! I'm going to kill you! I'm going to destroy everything that you hold dear! You bastard! I will burn your Holy Earth Mother! I'm going to fucking rape her and kill her! You fucker!"

As much as Maia would have liked to finish watching what would happen out of morbid curiosity, she was spared by someone urgently yelling her name and scrambling past the crowd to get her. To her surprise it was Rene, who was practically out breath as he gasped,

"Maia! Maia! I found you! You have to come... We need you!"

"What? Rene? What are you talking about?" Maia asked, trying to make sense of his words.

"You have to come to help! You have to stop them! They've gone insane!" Rene said, but then looked down at the still struggling and cursing RajTwight amidst the smelly spectacle. "Whoa... What happened here? What's going on?"

"Yeah... We can talk about that later. What are you talking about? Who do I have to help or stop?" Maia asked again, pulling Rene away.

"It's Aidan. They're burning down his farm. See?" Rene said, pointing into the distance.

Indeed, looking down into Fulford valley, thick plumes smoke were rising out of a series of buildings located in the middle of a field and around which the milling figures of a mob could be seen, doing damage to everything they could. As much as Maia couldn't believe it, the sight could mean only one thing: Aidan was being lynched.

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# Chapter 17

Driving down into valley, with Rene's minitruck whining and wobbling as it negotiated turns far quicker than it should, Maia expected to see an angry mob of people, running and screaming as they attempted to join in the mad revelry of destruction. However, the first people they saw seemed innocent enough, giving Maia hope that Rene had overreacted. Mostly walking in couples or triplets, everyone they saw were walking away from the smoke, casually and happily strolling along as they chatted and laughed as if they'd just seen a hilarious matinee. Even as they neared the smoke, larger groups of a few handfuls appeared - and again seemingly going along their merry ways.

Was it nothing? Had Rene been overreacting? Please let it be nothing, Maia prayed. Perhaps, in spite of the acrid odors of oily smoke and periodic bursts of metal explosions and distant wild cheering, nothing was going on at all. It was just some seasonal burning of trash and perhaps a work party celebration gone a little overboard... and maybe this was Rene's clever way of getting her out of a touchy situation so they could have a fun and good hearty laugh afterward. Right? Looking over at Rene's grim and focused expression, it was obvious that there was going to be nothing to laugh about. As they took a turn into a small byway and started to slow down due to the crowds of smudge-stained people, it soon became evident why everyone they'd seen had been in a good mood and were no longer baying for blood and destruction. It was because their appetites had already been sated.

Not since the Liberation had Maia seen such insane and wanton destruction. Where there once might have been a bucolic image of growing crops, a few sheds and a small, but functional house, there was now just a series of crackling bonfires, blazing and popping as everything that was worthwhile had been heaped together and burnt. Even the fields had been doused in gasoline and set alight, while anything else that looked usable had been trampled on and mangled. Aidan's farm had become a destruction derby, and Maia had come too late stop it.

But why? What had Aidan done to deserve this? Maia looked around trying to see if there were signs or explanations, but saw only people sauntering merrily away. While most were leaving, Maia saw that in the middle of the field, there was a small group of congregants still gathered in front of a massive bonfire, randomly throwing things in, as they listened to someone small and short gesticulating at them.

With surprise and dismay, Maia recognized the high-pitched, yet strangely soothing grandmotherly voice that was amplified in an ancient loudspeaker being held up by sooty assistant:

"My dearest darlings! Hanuman blesses us all for our good deeds! We have done well my dear children. We have brought goodness and light back into the heart of our blessed island," MahaLindy said sweetly, clutching her hands to her chest and looking lovingly on the mob. Most of those there were part of the climbing community, judging from their polyester clothing and slim builds, but there were many other people who seemed to be unaffiliated, and who Maia guessed were climber-wannabees or simply people who had been attracted by the joys of a lynching. "Even though we must remember to have compassion and understanding for all, we must also be fierce and unyielding in the face of those who would disrupt the sanctity and harmony of our wonderful community!"

"Praise Hanuman! Praise the Infinite Crag! Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore!" the mob replied, obediently lifting their arms into the air. The non-climbers were a touch behind the climbers, as they weren't familiar with the ritual.

"Together, we'll bring the grace of Hanuman to our island and harmony for everyone," MahaLindy rambled on, obviously on a roll and high on the excitement of being adored. The diminutive old lady had been propped on a tiller that had been pushed on to its side. It was to this piece of mangled machinery that elevated her that MahaLindy now pointed at with vigor. "But to do so, we have to cleanse the island! We can't have terrible, horrible, unnatural mechanical objects that tear up the sacred land of Hanuman and the Holy Earth Mother. There have been suspicions that these disgusting oppressive machines were being used, but now we have proof! The holy writ of Hanuman demands that we freely scatter our seeds permaculturally and biodynamically with love, with compassion and with joy over the ripe and fertile land that He would have us leave untilled, untouched and unviolated! Victory, my dears! We have achieved victory over a terrible awfulness of unnatural mechanization! Glory to the non-tilled land of Hanuman! May the fruits of his fertile land continue to be graced upon us!"

"Praise Hanuman! Glory to his non-tilled land! Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore!" the crowd repeated rapturously, apparently unaware that the food they'd been receiving and depending on had been coming from the tilled land that they had now thoroughly spoiled.

"Yes! Let this be a lesson to everyone unwilling to follow the word of Hanuman! We are watching! We are keeping the harmony!" MahaLindy cried out, continuing on the same nonsensical vein on which her ramblings were based.

There wasn't much more of MahaLindy's pseudo-religious prattle that Maia could tolerate. Whether or not there was an issue with using the tiller or not wasn't even something that Maia cared about--as she admittedly knew nothing about farming. But attacking someone else and destroying their living didn't make any sense to her, especially as there were a number of specific procedures for cases like this that the Council had established in the Liberation constitution. If MahaLindy and her ilk had an issue with Aidan's farming technique, then there was a Council approved court they could take it to. What they were doing now was blatant abuse that was reminiscent of the corporate and estate order that had been taken down.

Despite knowing that wading into a crowd as riled as this one was a very bad idea, Maia elbowed her way to MahaLindy and cried out over the din,

"Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?" Maia jabbed a finger at the old lady, who blinked and stared down from her perch. "This is an outright abuse of Council regulations. You have zero authority to take action against a citizen without a proper and trial. I am logging all of this. Do you hear me? Do you hear me? This is illegal! In my capacity as Messiah, I am warning you that you will be investigated for Crimes against the People."

The silence that greeted Maia was frigid in spite of the roaring fire behind her, but she didn't care. She met the confused looks of the crowd with the full might of her outrage and the position as the Messiah that she desperately believed would make them to listen to her. Doubts rose in her though, as she observed no one took any action to go away, and instead looked to MahaLindy who said in a dulcet tone,

"Maia, my dear. You are interrupting justice that has been determined by the Salt Spring Directorate. You can't..."

"What justice? What justice has been decided and when?" Maia threw back, ignoring the growing glares that were being leveled at her. "You claim it's a decision by the Directorate? You realize that any action on this scale needs to be logged and approved by the Council, which I have access to, so I know you haven't done anything like that. The entire decision process would take a minimum of a week to resolve, and there would be ample warning for people to make their claim. No, MahaLindy, you don't fucking fool me. You did nothing by the Council regulations. You're lying and I'm going to make sure you're charged for this." Turning to the crowd, she repeated, "You are not following a legal action! Do you hear me? You are being fooled. This is illegal!"

"Oh, Maia," MahaLindy said, sadly shaking her head, without even bothering to glance at the crowd's reaction, who still did not respond to Maia, as everyone there was well-trained and unambiguously hers. "You're not understanding that Council regulation. I can see how you're misinterpreting the Council's directive. The Directorate has the highest authority to..."

"Not for punishment involving the destruction of material goods! Rule 45.c prohibits any unilateral act that may endanger the property and livelihood of citizens," Maia yelled furiously, happy she was remembering the correct passage in the Liberation's constitution. "That rule was specifically implemented to avoid mass punishment and the advent of mobs... which you are doing right now! You have abused your authority, and by the power invested in me by the Council, I am removing your authority within the Directorate. Further, I am pressing charges against you, and you will be restrained and restricted to you residence where contact will be only as approved by me. Do you hear? What are you waiting for? Arrest her!"

No one moved, though some of the non-climbers began to appear uncomfortable and looked around questioningly. The climbers, on the other hand, firmed their expressions, and, being the dominant within the crowd, set the mood. MahaLindy, completely secure and surrounded by her followers, was utterly unmoved by Maia's claims, and said with a patronizing smile,

"Now, Maia. I can see that you're upset. I have great compassion for you, you know. We all do. But you don't understand our ways. The rules here are more firm and more clear than in Vancouver. Perhaps you need to meditate on the matter using the Hanuman mantra?"

"Meditate? What? Arrest her! Get her out of here! I demand it! I am the Messiah!" Maia screamed completely indignant, as she waved her arms.

"Ah, Rene, I see that you've arrived. Please do care for Maia," MahaLindy said, as Maia felt a firm hand grab her and pull away.

"Yes, of course, MahaLindy. This is a misunderstanding. She's tired you know. Very tired. I'll explain everything to her," Rene said, wrapping his arms close around Maia, directing her away, as he whispered in her ear, "Maia! It's not the time for this, ok? You can't fight her here, not with her guards around." Rene said, glancing hastily around, and making Maia notice then that a number of climbers had begun to close in on her. Rene waved them off with a bright smile, as he screamed out reassuringly to MahaLindy, "It's alright! It's alright! I'll explain it! It's just a misunderstanding. That's all it is. I'll explain it to her!"

"See that you do," MahaLindy said, nodding her head as if Rene was about to deal with a wayward child--to which Maia nearly yelled a rejoinder, but was kept from voicing her anger as she was abruptly pulled away.

Maia struggled as she was rather unceremoniously dragged away, but stopped as she noticed the climbers who had begun to circle Maia looked different than the others. Of course, they had the muscular builds of climbers, but they were all wearing vermillion sashes--and, as Maia noticed with a feeling of dread, many were carrying the same make-shift climbing-gear flails that RajTwight's two devotees had threatened Stefan with, while others gripped planks of wood that had dark stains on them. Though the fact had a difficult time sinking in to her outraged mind, Maia realized that she'd been close to being violently silenced before Rene had intervened.

Sobered and feeling herself calm again, Maia tapped Rene's arm. "It's ok, Rene. I'm alright. I won't do anything stupid and throw myself at the mob again, ok?"

Rene cast Maia a wary look, but now that they were out of earshot from the mob, he conceded "Ok, ok, ok. That was close. What got into you? Do you have any idea how close that was? Those people with the red sashes are MahaLindy's climber-guard. They'll do anything for her and anyone on the Directorate. You couldn't get them to do anything without her specifically saying it."

"I had to say something. It was my duty, Rene. It had to be done," Maia replied defiantly, her anger at the whole affair still simmering.

"Sure, fine. I get that, but right there? Right when MahaLindy had her crowd?" Rene said reasonably, seeing the steel in Maia's eye.

"Is this what goes on here, Rene? Does this happen a lot? What the Hell is going on this island?" Maia asked, frowning.

"No, no, of course not... sometimes. It just happens sometimes," Rene stuttered uncomfortably. "Usually with MahaLindy, but never this bad... It's usually something small, a small beating, but this... this is more than they've done in a while."

"This will be reported. I will put a stop to this," Maia gritted, bunching her fists, furious at her uselessness and powerlessness. "This goes completely against the Liberation. MahaLindy has committed Crimes against the People. I've recorded everything. I have more than enough evidence to stop MahaLindy and anyone else who is involved."

"Maia, please. You don't understand this..." Rene pleaded, but Maia had no patience for this.

"Where is Aidan? I'll need a statement from him. Where is he in this lynching?" Maia demanded, looking around.

"I don't know. I just heard about it happening, and came to look for you hoping to stop it, but I had no idea how big this was... Shit. Fuck. I don't know where Aidan is. His house is over there, well, what's left of it any way. He may be there..." Rene said, pointing at a burning building a few hundred meters away, and followed Maia as she stormed in that direction.

Though Aidan was not in the burning house, it turned out not to be hard to find him. Behind the house and within a propagation greenhouse whose plastic had been ripped to tatters, Maia and Rene found a handful of people kneeling around Aidan's body. Judging from their dirt encrusted hands and thick, utilitarian clothes, Maia guessed they were fellow farmers who had come to help, but could do nothing against MahaLindy's mob.

Someone was dabbing at his injuries, but it was obvious from his mangled body that these were Aidan's last moments. His entire torso, bare after having had his clothes torn off him, was covered in welts and bloody lacerations, and his legs were twisted at impossible angles. His face was appalling: what was once his nose was a mash of bloody ooze and his lips had been cleaved and ripped apart, while the most shocking was the right side of his face, which had been crushed into bone and gristle with his eyeball hanging limply by a few lingering strands of tendon.

Yet, in spite of his brutal beating, Maia could see from following the trail of blood that he'd somehow managed to drag himself into the relative safety of the greenhouse after MahaLindy's mob had been done with him. Incredibly too, the tough farmer was still alive and was gasping to the farmers around him,

"...get my t-tape, ok Sylvie? They're burning everything, but I know the lines will still be good. I know you can use it. You've always complained about hauling water from your pond," Aidan said, pointing his swollen remaining eye at a heavy-set woman, who, unable to speak, only nodded. "They probably didn't get my pump either. Those idiots have no idea where the water comes from. Daniel, you could use that right?"

"Y-yes, Aidan, I can. Thank you," Daniel said, his eyes gleaming.

"What about my starts? Are they still alive? Ow... fuck!" Aidan said wincing from his attempt at waving his hand, as he tried to point at the neat and orderly trays of seedlings in the propagation house that, in contrast to everything else, were thriving and healthy.

"They're fine, Aidan. They didn't get them. Probably didn't want to offend their fucking Holy Earth Mother. You should rest now, ok? Don't talk," said the man who was tending to Aidan on the ground.

"Fuck you, Luke. I never took you for the mothering type. Heh heh... ah, fuck that hurts," Aidan groaned, but still continued bequeathing his belongings. "Cathy, you be sure to take my starts and give them a good home. Don't let that seed go to waste... I think I still have saved seed in here. You guys are welcome to it. I think my beans are the best here, better than yours, huh Tom? Ha!... Ugh, ow, fuck... Shit they got me good..."

"Never thought they'd actually do it," Sylvie said softly, shaking her head. "They always warned us with their fucking smiles and promises, but we never thought... never thought they would do this..."

"No one thought they would," Daniel said bitterly. "We always thought they needed us, that it was all bluster... Maybe they don't need us now. Fuck. What are we going to do if they decide to get rid of us?"

"What the fuck can we do? They have everything, we don't have a choice," Luke muttered morosely. "They sent a message pretty clearly. Obey, don't question or pay the consequence, and Aidan always pushed the limits too hard..."

"Hey, you assholes, I'm still here," Aidan croaked. "They didn't beat my ears. Yeah, I pushed the limits, and I said and did things I shouldn't have, but we should have live under this bullshit..." Aidan suddenly saw the Messiah and said, "Oh! You! Maybe we can ask you what to do!"

The group turned toward Maia and Rene and started growling:

"The fucking Messiah. What the fuck is she doing here?"

"Why did you bring her, Rene? She's with them. Is this how you treat your friends?"

"Get her the fuck out of here. She's gonna cause problems for us."

"Goddamn hell, I should fucking beat her myself. No fucking respect."

"The fucking balls of her to come here."

For a moment, with the furious hostility directed at her, Maia thought she was about to assaulted, as Rene gripped her tighter ready to pull her away; but Aidan broke the tension with a weak but audible voice,

"No, no... Let Maia come. She's fine. I want to talk to her."

Maia stepped forward, as the other farmers grudgingly made room for her. No words, however, came to her as she knelt beside him and forced herself to look at his wounds and record it on her netset. Her throat constricting, Maia struggled to squeeze out words that she knew were pointless:

"Aidan, I'm sorry... I'm sorry I got here too late. Rene tried to get me, but everything here... I've recorded everything. It's illegal. I'm going to bring the Council to Salt Spring and stop MahaLindy. I'm going to have them arrest her and the Directorate. Believe me. I'm going to bring them to justice."

Aidan coughed and spat before replying dryly, "You don't know shit, Maia. You have no idea how bad it is. I want you to stop them, but shit... How can you?"

Maia swore, "I can do it, Aidan. I can. I'm the Messiah..."

"The Messiah, huh? I know you are. Trust me, I do. I really want to believe you, Maia. I do," Aidan winced as he laboring chest attempted a chuckle. Putting a bloody hand of hers, he said softly, "Did you know that I fought for you in the Liberation? I almost didn't. Funny thing was I thought I had a good gig working as a cranberry picker. I didn't get beat too often so long as I kept my mouth shut, and most of the overseers only wanted to fuck the women, so I was pretty free. I didn't want to fight because I didn't want to cause trouble. Because I thought the estates would just beat us down."

Aidan hacked again, as he motioned weakly with his hand for Maia to come closer. "But you know what changed? Someone passed around a vid of you talking about how none of us should have to live like that. That all of us had a right to be free and to be proud and to be unafraid. You inspired me... you inspired many of us, and I couldn't take the shit anymore. That wasn't right. Injustice isn't right. You helped me see that... I'll always be grateful for it."

Tears blurred Maia vision as she struggled to respond in the same spirit as Aidan's but she found that she couldn't simply pretend to be the sole Messiah even if it made good propaganda. "Aidan, I have to tell you. I'm just one of many Messiahs. That speech you saw was something I was told to say..."

"Oh, of course, I know that," Aidan's faint smile was dashed by a horrible cough. "I wasn't born yesterday. But it got me to fight. It got me to fight against the fuckers who would treat us like shit, and that's something you should proud of too, ok? Just don't let what we fought for be destroyed. You have to promise to keep the Liberation from crumbling, ok?"

Maia nodded weakly, uncertain if her promise would hold any weight, and looked away in embarrassment as Aidan continued more intently:

"Listen, my brother is in trouble. Rodger fucked up. This is why they got me. To punish me."

"Rodger? Who's Rodger? Where is he?" Maia frowned.

"SriSharma. Rodger is his real fucking name. The one he had before joining those climbing nuts," Aidan grimaced sourly. "Even though he's a dumb fuck, he's my brother and I have to help the guy. The fucker did some stupid shit with John and now it's coming back to bite him"

"SriSharma is your brother? What did he do? What does he know about John?" Maia said suddenly remembering SriSharma had wanted to talk to her. "What was he up to? What does SriSharma know?"

"I'm not sure, but I can guess it has to do with the Directorate's dealings. He has his work on the intranet. I know he worked with John a lot," Aidan said, his voice a raspy whisper. "Go on the intranet and look for the Erskine fairy doors. Rodger... Fucking SriSharma had told me that it was the vid John was working on before he was killed. Find out what it's about and stop them..."Aidan started coughing again, building into a violent hacking fit that took a full minute to subside. When he finally caught his breath, he pointed his one eye at Maia and said, "Can you please do something for me?"

"Yes. anything," Maia said immediately, suppressing a sniffle.

"Bless me before I die," Aidan sighed.

"Of course," Maia agreed, tears streaming down her face.

Placing her hand on his head, Maia intoned the standard blessing she'd repeated many times as the Messiah for events, baptisms, ceremonial store openings and all other sundry of events where the superstitious people needed the extra boost to their confidence. She'd never thought it meant much except to the masses, serving just as another way for people to suppress their fears and temporarily make them forget how small they were. But now, as she satisfied Aidan's last wish, she really wanted the message of hope and salvation to be true--despite knowing it was unlikely. Yet, for the sake of a dying man, the fiction of peace and the powers of her Messiahdom could be real for a few moments.

With everyone silent around as Maia spoke, Aidan slowly closed his eye, his body relaxing, as his breathing slowed and became shallower until his chest was completely still. All that was left was the sound of burning buildings and the hooting of the mob.

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# Chapter 18

With the evidence of the lynching stored in her netset, protocol demanded that Maia report to Jamie and file an official complaint with the Council. It was the right thing to do; she would be protecting the Liberation against the local nuts who had taken over Salt Spring and perverted it into their own semi-religious fiefdom. But, Maia equally knew that even if she told them what happened and uploaded the vids of Aidan dying and the insane acts of the mob lead by a Directorate member--the Council would not act as Maia wanted, which was to come in, arrest all the Directorate, force new elections and bring justice back to the island and the people she was supposed to be fighting for.

Why wouldn't they? Well, to begin with, what proof did Maia have to show them anyway? One man was killed, possibly by a kindly old lady and her crew of cultists, which wasn't necessarily something that the Council should be acting on, since who knew if she was acting on her own? Maybe MahaLindy was a rogue element in the Directorate--meaning it would be an internal matter that Maia should be bringing to the Directorate itself, which would then launch an investigation, assign an arbiter, collect interviews. It would only be after several months of "due process" that there would be a hint of consideration of acting if they found MahaLindy to have collaborated with others. And by then, the memory of Aidan's death would have faded and the fear of changing the status quo would have been reinforced.

Sure, Maia could point out that the Directorate itself was no longer functional and show a vid of one member literally shitting and pissing on another one, making the case that the Council should intervene in this case since the locals had lost their credibility and ability to govern. But again, why would they? It was simple math: why risk alienating an ally for an act that merely killed one soul that no one cared about? It wasn't like Aidan had been anywhere near as popular as John or known or even remotely as well-connected. Aidan was just another nobody farmer, who despite all the inclusiveness and fairness of the Liberation, still fell much below the hierarchy of public's giving-a-shit meter that would have forced the Council to act.

So, fuck protocol. Maia couldn't just file a complaint, as much as she'd wanted to, and as much as that would have taken the issue off her hands. No, this time, Maia wanted justice; she wanted this Salt Spring shit-show to be fixed--and not swept under reams of bureaucratic and political shenanigans. And, the only way to do that was to find some truly damning evidence that would force the Council to get off their asses and intervene.

This was why she was tolerating yet another of John's vids with Rene, whose company was making the viewing more palatable.

"Oooooo! What have we here? This is a lovely one, isn't it? I really like the crystals in the door and the glass path!" John cooed at the dronecam, pointing at a tiny, cutsily crafted "door" about ten inches high and propped against the base of a moss-covered tree. The sprays of ferns surrounding John's squatting figure swished and swayed as he continued to excitedly to gush over the small, elaborate door that included not only a colorful glass-pebble path, but miniature lanterns hanging at either side of it. "I have to say that this is one of the more enchanting fairy doors here, though I'm not quite sure I agree with the Erskine Fairy Door Commission's assessment that it should be in the top-ten. I really thought that Fairy Door 28 with the driftwood and braided door was better than this one, and more aligned with the general feel of fairy doors. This one's too gaudy and overstated for my taste... but who am I to say! The Erskine Fairy Door Commission has been regulating these for years so they know lots more than me!"

<UNIQUE SALT SPRING TRADITIONS EXPLORED! FAIRY DOOR LOVELINESS! #HOWCUTEHOWCUTEHOWCUTE! #LOVELYSALTSPRINGCRAFTS!>

Many many people knew lots more than John, Maia commented cattily in her mind, sighing as she continued to watch John's vid, and leaned against Rene, who gave her a squeeze and held her closer. It hadn't been easy tracking this recording down. The silly vid had not only been categorized under a mock ID on the intranet servers, but had also been hidden among a series of other in-progress vid that John had been working on. As a result, it bore an unpolished, rambly (more so than usual) feel that was even more difficult for Maia to sit through. It was only after searching "fairy doors" and cross-referencing the results with different iterations of John's name she found John's stash of vids--just as Aidan had told her.

A pang of sadness and anger struck Maia as she thought of the dead farmer; she'd been reluctant to leave him after he died, wanting to help with the final rites, but his farmer friends had firmly declined, intending to privately put him to rest in their own way. With nothing else to do and fueled with the determination of anger and indignation, Maia had had Rene drive her back to John's camper so she could find the vid Aidan had told her about... Which was what exactly? All it seemed so far was one of John's shows on a bizarre "reports" on the islanders' tendency to craft pointless, small doors and put them against trees.

For the last half hour, Maia had watched John walk from fairy door, commenting on the merits of each one, as he sauntered along the trail up the mountain. It was, in its own half-wit way, amazing, for along the trail, nearly every tree had a small door affixed to it, which, as the fairy door legend had it, would open up in the evening of a full moon and let the fairies out - or some idiotic bullshit like that. This, apparently, had been a "thing" on Salt Spring for many decades. Knowing how whimsical and bizarre the island culture was, Maia wasn't terribly surprised.

What was kind of hilarious though, was that over time, given how many fairy doors were appearing among the trees, they progressively became more and more regulated - to preserve the spirit of the original, of course - and an organization, the Erskine Fairy Door Commission was formed to not only establish formal rules for the doors but enforce them as well. To do so, a small paramilitary task force had been formed, known as the Fairy Door Defenders - whose members were known to be particularly aggressive in their zeal to protect the fairies' imagined "interests" and the Erskine Fairy Door Commission's very specific aesthetic guidelines.

"Ooooo! Now here's something interesting! Take a look at this!" John exclaimed, leaping up suddenly and scrambling over to a fallen tree a few feet over that was half covered by an overgrowth of Oregon grape and ferns. Roughly pulling out some of the foliage and tossing it aside, he proudly pointed at a fairy door he'd just revealed. "This is a rare find, I tell you! This is a fairy door that's not on the officially sanctioned list that somehow made it past the Fairy Door Defenders' patrols. Look! You can tell how it's not up to regulation by the shape of the door, which is elliptical instead the standard rectangle and it's color scheme doesn't match the approved palette. I'll be too that it opens... Yep! It does. Huge no-no. What a terrible travesty! Fairy doors can only be opened by fairies, not humans, silly! You see, this is one of the illegal fairy doors made by some rogue elements. What awful people! As the Eskine Fairy Door Commission often says: how can you preserve traditions if you don't follow basic rules? And yet these things go on." John heaved a sigh and shook his head disapprovingly. "I was only able to see this one because I'd crouched down and admired the last one. Look at how it was cleverly hidden behind these branches and placed beyond reach. Heavens knows how long this one has been here! How great that we found it and helping preserve the history of the fairy doors!"

<RULE BREAKING FAIRY DOOR FOUND! THWARTING ROGUE ELEMENTS ON SALT SPRING! #STOPTHEMADNESS #STOPILLEGALFAIRYDOORS!>

Not sure exactly where this was going, Maia groaned, causing Rene to suggest for the fourth or fifth time, probably out of concern of her mental well being, "You know, why don't we take a break? Come back to it tomorrow?"

"Yeeeeeah... I guess... But I feel like something is there. Maybe I could set up the program to alert me if any signifier words that pop up," Maia mused, half-swayed to give up as she debated if it would be enough to look for terms like "scandal" or "anti-Council" or "threats to the Liberation" or "climbing freaks that fuck people up for no reason because a fucking old lady told them to." The cautious side of her was worried that she may miss something. "I don't even know what to look for, or even what could be the thing that Aidan wanted me to see. Damn it, I thought it might have been Mark or the reformed estate owners or anything about the Directorate but nothing obvious so far. So now what?" Maia heaved a despondent sigh. "Fuck, I'm really not good at this am I?"

"Hey, it's not easy, ok?" Rene soothed, stroking her arms as he moved to start massaging her neck and again made the tempting suggestion, "Why don't we take a break? Maybe go to the Solstice Celebration and then come back, ok?"

"Ah, hell. I really want to, Rene," Maia sighed, reluctantly pulling away as she was about to become too distracted. "But I need something, anything to go on. This thing with Aidan... I can't believe... How could it have happened? I thought the Liberation was supposed to keep this kind of barbarity from happening. I don't understand."

"Yeah, me neither," Rene agreed grimly. "I never thought Aidan would be a target with him being SriSharma's brother, but things change here quickly. I thought I understood what was going on here, but I guess I don't. How about let's come back to this after the Solstice Celebration, ok? Maybe everything will be clearer then."

"Yeah, maybe... Hold on, what's going on now? Did you see that? What just happened there? Who's he talking to? Let me skip back a few seconds," Maia said, silencing Rene, as she sat up a skipped back a few seconds.

John had dropped his asinine speaking tone and had begun furtively looking around, appearing to be speaking to someone.

"...are you sure? No one's around right?" John asked someone out of the dronecam frame.

"Yes, John. I've checked three times already. There's no one around," a familiar voice mumbled, and then became clearer as it approached. A head entered the dronecam's frame. It was SriSharma. "Those Fairy Door Defenders stayed pretty long."

"Shit, you're telling me. I wasn't sure I could keep talking about these stupid doors for much longer. Those crazy Fairy Door Defenders are obsessed. Fucking obsessed! What is it with them and maintaining their fairy-door canon? Did you see what they did with the last guy they found setting up his own little door? He was a harmless old man, and now he needs help feeding himself. Anyway, whatever. That old man should have known better than to cross the Fairy Door Defenders. At least, I satisfied them, otherwise I'd never hear the end of it from Harmony," John muttered, giving the contraband fairy door he'd been talking about a sulky nudge of his toe. Looking at SriSharma, he said brightly, "Ok. Are you ready? Do you have them? Let's do this thing!"

"I do have them... I brought them like you said, but do you really think this is a good idea? If it's a secret, and if we reveal it, we could get in trouble..." SriSharma said uncertainly, definitely not matching John's excitement.

"Oh, come oooooon! Don't worry about thaaaat!" John waved away cheerfully. "Trust me, ok? I have good connections and no one will touch us. Remember, my sister is part of the Council! Plus, I'm still close to Harmony even though we're not together. Don't worry, she's totally in my camp! No one can resist my charms! Who can touch us with both the Council and the Directorate connections? This is critical information! We need to show this to the whole Liberation! They have a right to know! Come on! Do you have them or not?"

"Ok... ok... I do have them... I'm just worried about what will happen and the backlash...but if you say so, I guess it's a pretty important issue," SriSharma still hesitated, shuffling his feet around and looking away.

"Pretty important? Fuck, SriSharma!" John cried out, his face totally exploding in overly dramatic surprise, but then noticing how loudly he'd spoken, he dialed down the volume a number of notches. "This is most important revelation the Liberation has had since... since, shit I don't even know when! It could rock the whole Council! It'll make us famous! Ok? This will be great. It'll definitely cement your place as a climbing sanga member for sure! You'll be a hero and you'll be made a full member overnight! Now, if you have them, let's see it! Let's make history!"

"Ok... ok... if you say so... Here they are," SriSharma said uncertainly, reaching into his pocket and handing John thumb-sized plastic bags that John quickly grabbed, lifted them into the air, and began squinting at them. "Careful! Aidan doesn't know that I took them and I have to bring them back."

"You know this used to be legal way back when, even before the corporate estates took control. It was considered normal to have these around," John mused, shaking the bags around. "Are you sure they're the real thing? Are you sure it's legit?"

"I guess..." SriSharma conceded skeptically. "Aidan said he saw the packaging before they gave out his share, and he didn't have a doubt about what it was. He'd been forced to grow it in the past under the estates, so he knows the SynSanto brand... and you said you could verify it, right? For proof?" SriSharma shook his head again, as his sense of self-preservation kicked in. "I can't believe I'm taking this risk. If this goes the wrong way, nothing will be safe for either of us and I won't be able to protect him. You know that Aidan is being audited right? If they find anything..."

"Don't worry, don't worry. Oh, SriSharma you're such a worrier. No one's going to miss this tiny amount, and we can put most of them back anyway," John said, patting SriSharma's arm.

"Most of them? But you said..." SriSharma said with alarm.

"I need at least one to magnify, so that won't go back, but don't worry, ok? Relax!" John smiled, then changing the topic again, pointed at the bag. "Are you sure this is right? This looks greener than it should be. And why is it sparkly? Is that the way it is?"

"Yes, John. I'm really sure," SriSharma said tiredly. "It's the fungicide they put on it. It's sometimes red or orange, but Aidan was saying that since they're lettuce seeds, they have the green coating."

"Weeeeeird. I bet it's super toxic and causes all kinds of cancers. That's great!" John said enthusiastically, placing the seeds back in SriSharma' hand. The dronecam hovered closer and focused in on the seeds, as John started his shtick: "Ok! Let's do this. Perfect shot too. Your hand has that nice rugged look to it that could be a farmer's. Seeds straight from the farmer's hand! I love it. I just need to increase the magnification so I can get the barcode on it. Hold still..."

The dronecam magnified the bag in SriSharma's hand, giving Maia the close up she was craving: as John had been describing, the bag held clumps of flat, teardrop-shaped seeds, colored not grey or black or beige, but a startling iridescent green that shimmered and sparkled - strangely fitting among the fairy doors. Yet there was nothing magical about the seeds and in fact many many troubling things about them, assuming the seeds had indeed been covered in fungicides--which shouldn't be possible.

One of the very first acts that the Council did after the Liberation was to outlaw all seeds that had been treated with fungicides, pesticides, targeted hormone-disrupters or "harmless" instagenedit phages, categorically banning them from the entire Liberated areas so they would never ever come into contact with the food supply. The act was second only to banning all genetically modified seeds, calling instead for a revival of heirloom seeds and other landraces to fulfill the food requirements of the Liberated Society; that is, this is what Maia assumed until Jamie told her otherwise, so the shiny green coating may be another item that the Council was reneging on.

How could they be treated seeds though? The bans were undeniably very popular measures, as everyone had become wary of anything related to the estates' power, and particularly anything that had been believed to cause an epidemic of cancers. Hell, not only believed; it was a verifiable fact that every single worker who had worked in the corporate estate fields had ended up developing some kind of cancer and breathing disorder. This wasn't even mentioning the developmentally challenged babies and multiple miscarriages and still-borns resulting from the workers' disrupted sperm and ovaries. For the entire time they were in power, the corporate estates constantly denied the relationship between the toxins they forced the workers to be exposed to and the diseases that resulted from it, since in many cases they developed erratically and at very different times for each case. However, whether the worker died immediately or ten years after was never the question: they always died.

So, if the seeds had been treated with fungicides and other toxins, it would be a major scandal indeed, one that would travel as far up as the Liberation hierarchy, and potentially cause a much larger issue than Maia would be able to handle on her own - which was why she really hoped the green was some kind of marker. But her heart sank, when she heard John say,

"Yes! This is it! I can read off the barcode here... 09293-RWE," John repeated, then tapped his chin. "Hmmm... I can probably reference this with the older records. You know, odds are they're using old seed and not letting it go to waste."

"Maybe... I hope so," SriSharma said, a sentiment that Maia shared and hoped would be the case.

Perhaps, whoever it was who was using the treated seed was doing so because they needed time to breed hardier varieties, as Jamie was suggesting. Shocking as it would be, it would fit with Jamie's revelation that they were using GMO seeds, since it was well-known that the traditional seeds were not well adapted to the severe climate fluctuations that caused many varieties to wither and die. As a stop-gap measure that could be justifiable, Maia rationalized, seeing the practical logic in using these seeds. Also, judging from her own shocked reaction, why no one would announce that they were using the banned seed. After all, the People needed to be fed somehow, right? A little bending and flexibility in the values of the Liberation were inevitable and understandable - so long as they didn't go overboard. Unfortunately, John had more to reveal.

"That's odd, this seed isn't in the historical records. There's 09292-RWD on record, which matches the description of flashy-fox-tail lettuce with fungicide prep 203A and dated from 2034, but nothing else," John frowned, as SriSharma looked on morosely. "Ah, here we go, I found it. I had to access the wider patent files. Here we go: 09293-RWE, patented by SynSanto in 2054. Wait a minute, that's last year. Holy shit! This is great! This will play so well! Oh, man! Imagine the story! Holy shit!"

As Maia digested the implications of John's words, Maia had a completely opposite reaction to his enthusiasm, feeling instead a cold dread clamping her stomach. Last year. The seed wasn't old and it wasn't part of old stockpiles. It was a recent production by one of the largest seed generating company in the world. It was current. This meant that someone had had contact with SynSanto and paid for those seeds. But who? Who could be making a deal with SynSanto with the active blockade? Who could get past the defenses? The only people who could would be the highest levels of authority in the Liberation - people who should defending the freedom of the Liberation and not undermining them by making deals with the enemy for seed that would shackle them... Shit...

Rene voiced Maia's thoughts, "Can this be right? That can't be true right? Are those estate seeds current? Is he faking it?"

"I don't know... Maybe..." Maia said, screwing her eyes together, trying to think of ways around the impossibility of a fake barcode. And why would anyone bother faking it anyway? John may be stupid, but even he wouldn't be crazy enough to do that.

John was right. It was fucking huge. And it was terrifying. The scandal that John would have produced by publicizing this could very well rock the entire Liberation and potentially end it all. This could be it. This could be why John was murdered: to hide the terrible hypocrisy of colluding with the corporates and the estates. But who could Maia tell? Was someone on the Council in on this? Could they be planning on killing her too? But Jamie? How the hell could it be Jamie? She was ruthless, but not to the extent of killing her own brother. At least, that was Maia firmly wanted to believe. Maybe one of the other members of the Council. Maybe Charleston. He could have gone rogue. She'd never trusted him and his funny-looking overly twirled mustache. You could never trust someone with a mustache whose maintenance involved more products than the average person used to shower. But he couldn't have done it himself. He must was probably working with someone else in the Council... maybe Regina? It was possible... But then as the idea of a massive conspiracy spread in her head, Maia realized that it couldn't have just been traitors on the Council. They would have needed to have contacts in the specific local communities that they'd infiltrated. High ranking contacts. Contacts who could even be members of the Directorate. In fact, they had to include members of the Directorate since they would require they knowledge and consent as well. Holy fuck...

With these thoughts were running in her head, a polite but firm knocking on the door startled Maia, followed by a muffled voice asking,

"Maia? If you wouldn't happen to have some time? I would appreciate chatting with you."

It was Harmony.

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# Chapter 19

Nothing about Harmony's smile was reassuring. Not the gently upturned edges that were angled to show the pale white glint of her teeth, nor the soft, slight squinting of her crowfooted eyes. Maia guessed it was supposed to suggest a genialness to put Maia and Rene at ease, but did the exact opposite because of its frighteningly well-crafted design. Similarly, the unusualness of seeing Harmony in anything other than sun-bleached, chalk-stained athletic wear was as alarming as seeing her sit in front of them demurely and elegantly, her hands resting over crossed legs, covered by the pleated ends of a strapless pale blue dress that accentuated her chiseled arms. The drastic upping of Harmony's fanciness quotient (which also extended to her hair that Maia could see had also been conditioned and styled in addition to being let loose to spill out over her shoulders) was obviously due to the Solstice Celebration, which Harmony helpfully and pleasantly mentioned to Rene as soon as she sat down,

"Perfect. I was also looking for you, Rene. The kitchen has been preparing for the Solstice Feast, and they were asking for you," Harmony said, her smile unwavering and without any hint of admonishment; though, with her power and influence, it was unnecessary for her to brandish any scolding, except for a mild matter-of-fact statement: "You're on shift today, aren't you? I'm sure you have everything under control, since you've done this before. Were you planning on going to help them out soon? We're all looking forward for your delicious nuttyloaves."

"Ah, yes Harmony... Sure... I was just planning on it... of course... I'll see you later, Maia... Ok, sorry... Er, ah... excuse me while I get out..." Rene stuttered, his nervousness and alarm barely alarmed, as he instantly got to his feet and started shimmying his way out of John's camper - and left Maia alone with Harmony, who, as Rene passed her, gave him far too comfortable pat on the leg that irritated Maia.

There was a very brief moment of silence as soon as the door clicked behind Rene, during which Maia had a chance to not only compose herself, but also quickly subvocalize commands closing the vids she and Rene had been watching and encrypting them into a folder that she backed up on a secure location in a Council-dedicated subserver on the intranet. Maia had no illusions that Harmony's visit may be any kind of courtesy call--perhaps asking her how she was finding her accommodations, or what she was planning on doing with her hair, or what she was wearing for the Solstice Celebration... because, who knows, maybe Harmony wanted to match Maia's outfit so they could be the bestest of buddies. Not that Maia would have found a courtesy call and "girl" talk any less awkward.

It was an understatement of gargantuan proportions to say that Maia was not excited about the upcoming conversation that was not going to be light in any way. More than likely, it was going to be about John. But, as fear surged in Maia's mind, could it not only be about John? Could Harmony be wanting to talk about the illegal estate-originated seed, not to mention the fact that Maia had probably uncovered a massive conspiracy that involved business dealings with the enemy?

But how that could possibly be, Maia's rational mind demanded of herself. All the channels she'd been working through were Council-encrypted, and she'd even activated John's security software suite. No one could have eavesdropped on Maia and Rene's viewing. But what if they had been monitoring her the whole time, Maia's paranoid mind shrilled. What if they'd bugged the place using pico-tech vidlinks and superstealth secret agent gizmos and gadgets? Dammit! Chill the fuck out, Maia screamed at herself. Maia got a handle on her increasing freaked out-ness, reminding herself that though the timing was too perfect and the conversation was probably about John, it likely wasn't about the seeds. Maybe.

Meanwhile, after silently appraising Maia for a few dozen heartbeats, Harmony broke eye contact, and looking around the camper, she said with unmistakable wistfulness, "I miss this place. John really did know how to get comfortable housing. I could have claimed this home as my own, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

"Oh? Have you been here before then?" Maia said guardedly, assuming Harmony was referring to the fact that she had been sleeping with John - but also not knowing whether it was something she was supposed know.

Harmony returned her gaze to Maia, smirking, "You have been investigating John's death, right? I'm sure you know by now that John and I were together for a time. Didn't you wonder about that?"

"Yes, of course, I knew. I also knew that you were no longer together at the time of his death. I'd asked around, but I didn't find any reason to pursue it. I assumed it was a private matter, so I didn't want to pry," Maia lied easily, unwilling to admit that it was an avenue of investigation that she, in retrospect, should have been exploring more - if only to get in Harmony's face. Waving away her discomfort, while also reversing the line of inquiry, she asked, "Do you have any information to provide regarding John? Perhaps there's something you'd like to tell me? Perhaps about your breakup? Were you and John arguing before he died?"

"You mean, was his death part of lover's quarrel and you're wondering if I killed him?" Harmony said unflappably, as she snorted. "No, we weren't arguing at the time, and no, I didn't kill him. I was nowhere even close to John when he died. I was resolving a dispute in Ganges and it took me three days of negotiations. You know, the real work of leading a community. It's fully documented. If you like, I can provide witnesses of my activities." Harmony sneered as she stared down at Maia from the heights of her nose. "Seeing as how you're certainly thinking of good relevant questions for me, you must wondering why we broke up and if that had to do with his death. The reason we stopped being together was simple: we'd decided that we weren't right for each other."

"I see. That's understandable," Maia gritted her teeth as she nodded, still not understanding what Harmony, an accomplished, attractive woman had seen in John, who was also twenty years her junior. Not that Maia should judge (even though she did), it was entirely possible that she had been attracted to his young, soft flesh; on the other end, John may have been looking for the mother figure he never had. Either way, it seemed to be dead end--or one that Harmony was constructing. "It's a good explanation. Convenient explanation too. It also begs the question how you separated and whether there was any bad feelings about it afterward. It also glosses over the fact that you could easily have had anyone in the community kill him. It wouldn't be the first time a jilted lover was killed, but not the most original."

"It really isn't original at all. Offensively stupid, as a matter of fact," Harmony dismissed impatiently, then peered at Maia far too closely. "Is that all you have, Maia? Do you have anything else for me about John? I was hoping that I didn't come here for nothing. You do realize that I have responsibilities as the Director and the Solstice Celebration is our biggest event." Harmony drummed her fingers, arching her brows. "What? Did you think this was a courtesy call?"

Maia flinched at Harmony's snarkiness, but recovered in a few blinks to say with officious evasiveness, "I'm sure you know that this is an ongoing investigation of a highly sensitive nature, so I can't divulge any preliminary information that may be misinterpreted or potentially misused by foreign parties..."

"Don't feed me that bullshit, Maia. Do you think that line would work on me? Do you think I'm one of the little people who cower in bunkers, afraid of the second coming of the corporate estates?" Harmony spat, crossing her arms, as Maia's face reddened. "Also, according to my arrangement with the Council, I have full access to the ongoing investigation. Remember, Madame Messiah? Remember the arrangement I set up with Jamie, your boss? My cooperation in return for access to John's file. But as far as I can tell, nothing new has been put in, except for the homicide report, which is more than inflammatory enough, but without a cause, or evidence it's highly suspicious... or you're just highly incompetent. Care to tell me which it is?"

The pressure of Maia's jaw clamping on itself was causing a faint ringing in her ears, as she debated what to tell Harmony. Of course, what Maia wanted to say was something along the lines that Harmony was a fucking bitch, running an island filled with fanatics, all of whom could have easily killed John, but now it seemed like someone in power, possibly Harmony herself had killed him because he had discovered what could only be described as a horrible betrayal of the Liberation and everything it stood for... That, though, wouldn't be very politic. Nor was it conducive to Maia's health, as if it were in fact Harmony or someone in the Directorate who had killed John, then she could very easily be next.

The wisest course in this case would be to be to hold fast to her evasiveness, hoping that she could outlast Harmony in her frustration and she would just walk away; but she had no doubts that it would work. Harmony had come for answers, and she wouldn't leave until Maia provided them. A memory of Aidan's death returned then to Maia, highlighting the danger of situation, but also reminding of her of the stakes that were in play. It wasn't just about her. The very basis of the Liberation was at risk... and she was the Messiah of the Revolution #3409, goddamn it! She had a duty to protect the Liberation.

Coming to a conclusion in her mind, and deciding that facing and confronting Harmony (not to mention her supreme bitchiness) was a worthwhile risk, as well as a reasonable measure of protection if she played it right, Maia sent a few commands to her netset. Maia was once again grateful for the highspeed intranet connection that came with John's luxury camper, as she connected to the intranet, and said carefully,

"Okay, Harmony. How about I give you the same report I was planning to give Jamie. Would that satisfy you?" Maia glared at the Director, who merely glared back, a look that Maia felt was perfect for the vid she was preparing to stream.

As the intranet connection took hold and began its security handshake with John and Maia's systems, she hoped the risk of confronting the Director (and possibly also John's murderer) was worth it. Well, if it wasn't worth it, at least people would see that she'd tried her best. It was a small, meaningless consolation that Maia chewed on as she sent out an open invitation to all her followers, and began with an introduction for the benefit of her 'audience,'

"Just to let you know Harmony, this investigation hasn't been easy for me either. I've had a lot a pressure to figure out the cause of John's death, since he's a pretty well-known public figure."

"Yes, which is why we have you here, Madame Messiah, to figure everything out," Harmony said with unsuppressed irritation. "Damn it, Maia. I'm not like you, you know. I have a duty to my constituency to give them answers and they'll at least want something for this Solstice Celebration. Is that hard to understand? So, did you, Maia? Did you find you anything useful? Did you do your job? Or are you going to bullshit me again?"

No, you fucking crazy self-inflated despot, I'm going to tag your pretentious ass and make sure everyone sees what a fucking tyrant psycho you are, Maia swore, as she subvocalized the commands to add a runner to the vidstream that was now live, but with just a few followers,

<CONFLICT BETWEEN COUNCIL-APPROVED MESSIAH AND DIRECTOR OF SALT SPRING! IS DISSENT BREWING ON FAR-FLUNG ISLANDS? REVELATIONS OF JOHN'S DEATH TO COME! #SUSPICIOUSANTAGONISM #SALTPSPRINGOVERREACH>

With the vidstream working and fully ready for her to interact, Maia watched with satisfaction as the followers of her stream leapt from a dozen to a few hundred, as word of her vidstream spread. Maia said serenely with Messianic grace,

"I found lots of interesting things, Harmony. More than enough to be of interest to your Salt Springers and the entire Liberated population. When I first visited John's body, it seemed like a pretty straight forward case of accidental death. It was entirely possible that John slipped and fell as he was taping one of his vids." On the vidstream, Maia flashed an image of the accident site, as well as a lingering shot of John's dead body. "I'll be honest here: I even wanted it to be an accident, because the alternative that someone would have intentionally killed John was too shocking." Well, not so much, but Maia figured it was good to pander to the public and not seem too callous. Harmony, on the other hand, made a perfect eye roll and groan, and was just as she was about to say something, but Maia continued over her: "But he was killed... John was killed. There's no doubt about it. John was murdered. It wasn't easy to figure out. It certainly looked like a legitimate accident. And you know what? I was very close to dismissing this as an accident - something I'm sure would have relieved you and made life a lot easier for you."

Maia watched as Harmony stiffened and hardened her expression, but continued to not say anything as Maia added new tags and runners,

<SHOCKING REVELATION! JOHN'S DEATH WAS NO ACCIDENT! MESSIAH CONTINUES INVESTIGATION! #KILLERONTHEISLAND #LIBERATIONTHREATENED!>

"But two things caught my eye," Maia waggled two fingers at Harmony, who now was perfectly impassive, waiting to hear what she had to say next, which Maia smugly knew to be unwise. "First, John's netset was broken in half. Cleanly and exactly so that all his information was erased and his last moments would be irrecoverable." Maia uploaded images of the broken netset with the suitable flashing arrow demonstrating the break. "Sure, it's possible that it could have broken during his fall. But do you know how unlikely that is? It would have taken a precise hit, from a rock with the exact diameter of .3 millimeters hitting a spot no more than two nanometers away from the safety feature. How likely is that? It would have been one in 26 trillion chance for that to happen." A helpful video that Maia found from the manufacturer's site helpfully illustrated her point, before she added a great big red 'X' across it and said, "But ok, maybe it was an act of god, or Hanuman, if you prefer. Maybe there was some existing design flaw that was there that none of us knew about. Lord knows we've been using our netsets far past their design lifespans, so maybe it was just old."

"Is this all you have, Maia? A broken netset? Do you have anything else except some random event? This is some kind of joke, right?" Harmony said contemptuously, as Maia added another leader and even more tags.

<WAFFLING FROM THE DIRECTOR! IS THERE MORE AT HAND!?! MESSIAH UNCONVERING THE TRUTH! #TRUTHOFJOHN #SCANDALBREWING #LIBERATIONONEDGE!>

"Ah, but wait for the second part," Maia smiled, as the number of followers rapidly increased to several tens of thousands with comments multiplying exponentially. Not only that, her vidstream had caught Jamie's attention, who was busy trying to message her--probably to give her hints on what to say, even though Maia had everything under control and was about to show Jamie how good of a Messiah she was. "You know how I found the netset, right? What? Don't remember? I guess you're very busy as the Director. I found it by your own people. They'd come to the investigation site and damned near destroyed the evidence until I commandeered them and force them to make a search. It was through them that I found the netset. Bet you didn't expect that did you? Pretty ironic if you ask me. Taken in itself, it's not much, I agree, but RajTwight is your people. Isn't it suspicious that he had brought his people there to destroy the evidence?" Harmony, however, was not impressed, and was clearly about to wave away Maia's words, when Maia said, "You may not think that's much, but it was enough for me to do something I wouldn't have done otherwise. I simulated John's fall. You know what I found? His fall was impossible. Not unless John discovered some way to levitate. Much as I liked John, I don't think he was even capable of that. The conclusion? John was placed there. He was made to seem like he took a fall. But he didn't. He was murdered by someone on the island. Someone with a lot of influence."

Maia all but crowed, uploading the recording of she and RajTwight's confrontation and also the simulation, heavily edited to make her seem good, naturally.

<SMOKING GUN EVIDENCE! MESSIAH'S INVESTIGATION AND FIGHTS FOR THE TRUTH! #JOHNMURDERED #COVERUP #CONSPIRACYONTHEISLAND! #ISTHEDIRECTORATEINVOLVED?>

Harmony's reaction didn't have the inflammatory juiciness Maia hoped for, and instead said calmly through pursed lips, "Those are serious charges you're making, Maia. So John was killed. You seem to think you know who."

Maia smiled, even though she was on shaky ground herself now, but decided to make the gamble, "I might actually, Harmony. I might." Maia zoomed in on Harmony's expression. "You know, as I've said, it wasn't easy for me to untangle what's been happening on Salt Spring. You and your Directorate have an incredibly strong hold on the population - something that may soon be ending." Harmony narrowed her eyes into a squint as Maia pressed on. "At first, I thought it had something to do with Mark Hollister and the former estate owners, but before you say anything, yes, I know they're sanctioned by the Council and they're apparently 'reformed.' But then I did some more digging. What could John have done to deserve to be killed? He never caused that much controversy."

A blatant lie, that, but a good one for the narrative Maia was building. "So I was stymied for some time... until, I discovered what John had been working on. A report on the farming practices on the island. And was it a coincidence that the person who revealed this to me was also lynched, by another Directorate member?" Maia flashed images of Aidan's farm burning, along with the MahaLindy speaking to her mob, and finally a slow shot of Aidan's beaten body; the set up couldn't have been better. "No, it can't be. It took some time, but I discovered the reason why he was killed. I saw the video that John had made, the one that you were trying to suppress by killing him. But it didn't work. I found it. Aidan told me where to look. I know why you killed him now." Maia paused for effect, finally bursting out:

"The Directorate has been actively trading with the corporate estates for genetically modified seeds with fungicidal coatings! In direct violation of the Liberation's constitution! You are doing business with our enemy for products that will kill us!" She put up images of the coated seeds. "THAT was why John was killed. THAT was why you and the Directorate had him killed, so you could continue betraying the people. What do you have to say to that Harmony? And before you answer or have me killed like you had John, let me tell you that I'm currently streaming our entire conversation which now has a total of one hundred and eighty thousand two hundred and fifty-six viewers who are very interested in what you have to say."

Maia uploaded a link to John's video and added, <THE TRUTH COMES OUT! JOHN KILLED BY SALT SPRING CONSPIRACY! MESSIAH RISKS HER LIFE TO PROTECT THE LIBERATION! #SAVETHELIBERATION! #SALTSPRINGDIRECTORATETRAITORS!>

True, Maia was mildly exaggerating the situation - if 'mildly' could include completely going out on a limb and making a wild guess. Frankly, she had no idea and had no proof that Harmony or the Directorate had really been involved in purchasing the illegal seeds or killing John for that matter. However, considering not only John's video, but also Aidan's death, in Maia's mind, the theory made sense. Somehow too, it also made sense that confronting Harmony live on the intranet with her huge Liberation audience would make her confess her guilt - or at least, get a rise out of her and piss her off. Force light into the shadows and it'll reveal the bugs, right? Or something along those lines that Maia had at some point thought was pretty catchy.

Nevertheless, it was the moment of truth. Judging from the thousands of followers on the vidstream, it seemed everyone in the Liberation was watching now, including Jamie and a number of other Council members who were urgently messaging Maia, demanding her to stop. But Maia ignored it. This was her moment. She had Harmony in her trap and she would finally get at the woman, as well as have revenge for Aidan's death. Maia could be satisfied with her role as a Messiah at last. She'd be hero!

Harmony's reaction, however, didn't match Maia's expectation. With a bemused shake of her head, as if shooing off a minor irritant, the Director of Salt of Spring Island, who was supposed to have been caught in Maia's brilliant 'gotcha' moment, said with a soft chuckle, "Let me get this straight, so I don't get this wrong: you think John was killed because of a bunch of seeds?"

"Not just any seeds. Genetically modified seeds with fungicides, pesticides, hormone-disrupters and instagenedit phages!" Maia said defensively, not appreciating how Harmony's mocking tone made the ground under her become less stable.

"I know what you're talking about, Maia. GMOs. Toxins. Cancer-causing poisons. The great big devils of the corporate estates. I get it," Harmony said tiredly. "And you think I and the Directorate killed John because of those seeds? Honestly, I don't know what to say about that except... Wow. Incredible. That's the theory that Maia the Messiah of the Revolution comes up with. Seeds. John was killed for seeds. Brilliant, Maia."

Seeing the thin veneer of the credibility of her arguments began to tear - in tandem with the myriad of skeptical comments that were beginning to populate her vidstream comments--Maia said desperately, "They're illegal! Illegal seeds under the Liberation Constitution! You are in league with the estates and corporate owners! Plus! Those seeds aren't old seeds. They aren't Pre-Liberation leftover stocks. They're recent! You've been trading with them as recently as a year ago!"

"Okay. Alright. Calm down, Maia. Before I get to your illegal seeds and your conspiracy, let's step back a moment," Harmony patronized, lifting her hands up to keep Maia from talking. "Have you stopped to think about why exactly John would be killed and left in the forest by Mount Maxwell? A sacred place for all of us on the island? Do you realize how sacrilegious that would be? And why would we go through such an elaborate scheme to fake his death? Why not just push him off the cliff? Wouldn't that be simpler? Just off the top of my head I can think of ten different ways to place his body somewhere else so that it could be ruled an accident. Instead, John's body was placed in the forest that had religious importance to us, which is a completely illogical place... for us anyway. But let's go back to why was he put there because that is a good question. My guess is so that you, brilliant investigator that you are, would come to the conclusion that John was killed--and of course you very successfully followed that plan to accuse us and make the Salt Spring Directorate seem complicit. Perhaps even becoming an excuse to remove us, the legally voted government from power. Good work. You must be very proud that you can be manipulated that easily."

A flush came across Maia's face, but she couldn't find any words to counter Harmony's theory. Instead she could only fall back on her initial theory, "John's death was a cover-up for your illegal activities and trading... for the seeds... the illegal seeds..."

"Right. The 'illegal seeds'," Harmony repeated, adding air quotes with her fingers. "Yes. They are very illegal. But you know who gave them to us? You know who ordered us to use them? The Council did, Maia. They gave us the seed, and gave us explicit orders to plant them, and not tell the people. They're the ones buying them from the corporates and the estates. Congratulations. You did uncover a conspiracy. A conspiracy that the Council has built around you to betray the People."

Maia blinked. "...that's impossible..."

"Not at all. In fact, let me send you the confidential memos from the Council right now so you can publish them on your vidstream. You'll see that there's plenty of evidence that Jamie Ellis, Council member, has been working closely with the corporate estates, which shouldn't be that surprising given her background," Harmony said, as she straightened and mouthed the words to connect to her netset. In a few moments, Maia received a large datafile that opened to reveal the characteristic memos from the Council that she mechanically uploaded the files to her vidstream--while also abstractly noting that Jamie's messages were triple red-flagged and were demanding her attention.

Harmony gave Maia a look that would wither the most robust, well-watered trees and said, "I'm pleased you found John's vid on the seeds. I've been looking for it myself for a long time, so I'm delighted you found it. I've been wanting to expose the Council myself for a while. I've just been lacking the evidence to do it. We small communities know that if we do any bad moves the Council will come in a wipe us out. Repeat the party line or get destroyed. That's what we're told."

Maia gaped at Harmony, as the catastrophe that was her interview was getting far worse with every word that Harmony said; yet even so, Maia could think of nothing to say.

And Harmony wasn't done. Putting on a sad expression, she said, "Who do you think told John to do a report on those seeds? I did. But now, even if you finally brought to light his video, I regret having asked him to do it. I never wanted him to be killed. It's an awful tragedy. But in many ways, John's sacrifice was necessary... and it won't got to waste. The Council has change. It's obviously corrupt and it is no longer serving the People. I'm just sorry that only someone as popular as John could shed light on their activities. Bottom line is that the Directorate had no interest in getting John killed. Can you guess who did?"

"If you're right... that would mean... that would mean that the Council..." Maia stuttered, as the pieces clicked in her head. "The Council is working with the corporate estates? The Council killed John?"

Harmony clapped her hands. "Congratulations. Excellent deductive reasoning. The Council is working with the very entities that they are supposed to be protecting the people against. We've been ordered to plant these seeds for the last three years."

"Oh, shit..." Maia whispered, but then suddenly felt her connection break and her whole vidstream was blocked; Jamie had undoubtedly ordered the Council to cut off her intranet feed. "Wait my vidstream is broken."

Brushing off imaginary dust off her dress, Harmony said, "That took them long enough. I'd have thought they would have wanted to shut us up earlier." Looking at a disoriented Maia, Harmony said somewhat kindly, "Listen Maia. It's obvious you've been used by the Council. I know you don't approve of our ways, but we're not your enemies. Jamie and the Council are your enemies. Salt Spring Island is a loving and accepting place, and, even though you've accused us of terrible things, you're welcome to stay with us if you like. We can protect you."

"I... I don't know..." Maia said, unable to digest the new world that had been thrown at her.

"I understand. Take your time," Harmony nodded as she got up and went for the door. "In the meantime, I'd be happy if you took part in our Solstice Celebration. It's a lovely time. We have a lot planned for tonight. You can dance and party with everyone. Did I mention Rene's nuttyloaf too? It really is great. It's well worth the whole party. Didn't you tell Mark that you had just bought a beautiful dress too? It's no time like the present to wear something like that."

As Harmony left the camper, Maia still had nothing to say. What the hell just happened? How did everything get so fucked so quickly? It was supposed to be her clever moment in glory, but instead everything she thought was true and made sense was now a hot incoherent mess. Could the Council really have been behind John's death and the illegal activities with the seeds all along? Could Jamie have? Really? And could they have wanted to be rid of the local Directorates as well? Fuuuuuuck....

The worst part of it was that Maia had to admit it had a whiff of truth to it. She'd known that the Council had continually complained about working with the outflung communities and never getting any traction, and even joked that they should just impose their order and make things easier. Maybe they weren't joking. And if they weren't... Where could she go now? What could she do? Who could she even trust anymore? Would calling Jamie and answering her many urgent calls even help? Or would it only result in more lies and manipulations. The hell if Maia knew.

Standing up and bemusedly shaking her head, Maia rustled through her bag, pulled out her new red dress, and laid it out over the bed. Maybe wearing the dress would make her feel better.

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# Chapter 20

For the record, wearing her new dress did not make Maia feel better. As much as it made her look sexy, hugging her curves as its frilly edges playfully bounced around with her every step, Maia did her utmost to ruin the effect, tromping around stiffly, her shoulders slumped forward, with a perma-glower across her face that ensured no one would approach her. Worrying about people interacting with her was unnecessary though. With the Solstice Celebration in full swing, everyone was interested only in carousing, dancing and singing, making Maia's downer grumpiness easy to ignore and avoid.

And who could blame them? As far as Maia could tell from the carnavalesque atmosphere, the Solstice Celebration was a time when everyone could let loose and indulge in activities otherwise forbidden by the island's spoken and unspoken social norms. In contrast to the intense preparations that had transformed the Communal Devotional meadow into an LED-illuminated, flower-garlanded, chalk-stained, inchoate music-filled playground, there was very little organized activity going on, except for some borderline-unhinged gleefulness and touchy-feeliness that was, based on the skunky and boozy smells filling the area, fueled by a variety of mood-altering substances.

Not five minutes after Harmony had left her alone, Maia had pulled on her dress and walked down to the Solstice Celebration. On a superficial level, her rapid change into her new dress and participation in the celebrations could be interpreted charitably as her politely accepting Harmony's invitation and making the diplomatic demonstration that the Messiah and the Council were fully supporting the island's traditions. If only that were true. If only Maia could have stayed holed up in John's tiny home, isolated from everyone, not to mention everything that reminded her of her Messiah duties that she had so effectively screwed up--which, it seemed, everyone on the intranet was rushing to point out, including most vocally and eagerly to do so directly, Jamie. Seconds after the vidstream was broken, her netset had been assaulted by demands from not only Jamie but every Council member to talk to her... and chew her out for having caused a truck brimming with feces to empty its contents over a heavy-duty jet turbine that was directly aimed at the Liberation's reputation.

Without much exaggeration, Maia's confrontation with Harmony had been viewed by perhaps half of the Liberated population, and had consequently blown up the intranet, filling every chatboard and messaging center with wild speculations and calls for resignation and investigations of everyone on the Council. As a result, Jamie and the Council were in full damage-control mode and wanting her to take responsibility and make an official statement - which Maia was unable to face despite knowing it was the responsible thing to do. Instead, the much easier solution was to flee to a location where her netset could not get reception, which unfortunately was at the Solstice Celebration meadow.

Was Maia a coward? Was she being irresponsible? Was she betraying the trust the Council had in her as a Messiah of the Revolution? Probably. While some of those thoughts were going through her mind, the dominant feeling Maia felt was one of being a complete fool. A fool for having been used. A fool for having believed in the Liberation. A fool for having tried doing the "right" thing. Very much highlighting her doubts, the Council memos that Harmony had transmitted to her (and that she had, unwisely, streamed to the entire population) were undeniable proof that they'd been working with the estates and making deals with them, while paying lipservice to the values of the Liberation--something they apparently they didn't take seriously, in spite of the blood and suffering it had taken to make it happen.

To think that Maia had genuinely believed in the Liberation! What a gullible moron she was. Sure, she knew there were issues with it, and there was corruption and abuses of power. Of course there were. Duh. People were people, and Maia wasn't an idiot; she herself had benefited from the added comforts that came with being a designated Messiah. But even given that, she'd thought that at least the core of the Liberation was true... But it wasn't. How could they so blatantly go against one of the fundamental values of the Liberation? How could they go so far as to not only work with the enemy, but also accept their poisoned seed? Surely they realized how dangerous those modified, designer organisms were, not to mention the chemicals they were drenched with. And that was the food that they'd been feeding the people? The food that Maia had been eating? The thought of it made Maia want to stick her fingers down her throat and hurl.

And yet, Maia still had give Jamie and the Council the benefit of the doubt. Damning as the evidence was, none of it was confirmed. Maybe she was overreacting a little. There were still procedures and processes that she needed to follow to give them a fair chance to defend and explain themselves. Or was that also something that would be perverted and discarded? The principles of the Liberation should still mean something, right? But the disgust and revulsion Maia felt suggested that moment had more than likely passed.

"WOOOOOO!!!! Hanuman RULES! YeeeeAAAAH!" a bare-chested celebrant screamed into the air next to Maia. The man then proceeded to gruntingly pound his chest with one fist while the other hand held a cup that had a foamy pale liquid sloshing out of. "Hurh! Hurh! Hurh! Give me the Infinite Crag NOOOOOW! I'll shove my fingers into that crack and make it happen, baby!"

"YEEEEAH!!! Let's get on the fingerboard! Get our grips real strong!" another man hollered along with the first celebrant.

Glaring at the drunken carousers, Maia had no doubt they were high on their own testosterone and imagined alpha-maleness. Where previously whatever machismo was held in check by the religious undertones of climbing, their reptilian brain had apparently been unfettered for the Solstice Celebration; with no one to keep them in check, their inner frat-boy leeringly came bursting out:

"Strong fingers, baby! They'll do it all! Get'em in! You know they love it! That's what I'm talking about! YEAH! YEAH! HANUMAN ROCKS!"

Fearing they may start head-butting each other or, much worse, noticing her and trying to impress her, Maia sidestepped away. Thankfully, most of the celebrants weren't quite as irritating as the two climbing luminaries she'd encountered. Amidst the pockets of stupid-human tricks, most were in the middle of some kind of swaying, ecstatic interpretive dance; or they were involved in some form of heavy petting and making out; or they were giggling uncontrollably about some joke their goldfish-attention would soon forget--and they'd proceed to laugh at their forgetfulness. In short, it was not the appropriate environment for Maia to be gloomy, morose, and wallowing in self-doubt. But, perhaps theirs was the appropriate solution. They seemed happy enough. Maybe it would be best to get blitzed with the nearest handful of pills, drinks and inhalants, find some random partner or three to get a fumbly hormone rush, and wake up the next morning with headache that could only be cured with more of the same.

Yet, sadly, Maia knew she couldn't go down that path. Having already seen behind the curtain, she couldn't blithely go back to being in the blank-faced, empty-headed audience. Much as she hated the idea, she needed to make a decision about her allegiances. Should she still be backing the Council and their Liberation even if they weren't exactly as advertised? Or should she back Harmony's Directorate who had the tendency to go medieval on any on who wasn't blindly follow them? Damn hell, Maia swore under her breath, grinding her teeth. Curse this bullshit. She should just run away with Rene and find somewhere quiet to disappear and ignore all this ridiculousness--but where was Rene for that matter? Try as she might, she couldn't find him when she'd come to the meadow. She was alone to mull of her intractable thoughts and impossible decisions that left her between two stinking turd piles she wanted nothing to do with. However, the very fact that she thought had a choice in the matter may be an illusory luxury in itself.

A gaggle of horns suddenly blew from the main stage, bringing the revelry to a lurching halt. Quietly and steadily while everyone was distracted by their partying, a group of people had processed onto the stage and arranged themselves in a semi-circle. Judging from their saffron sashes and ceremonial looking climbing gear (that Maia now knew had much more aggressive applications besides ceremony) hanging from their belts, Maia guessed they were climbing-guards who were attached to the Directorate.

Soon after the crowd quieted down, the Directorate began walking on stage and stood in a line in front of the climbing-guards. They were all there: MahaLindy, stooped and blinking at the crowd with her dangerous, meek smile; Mark with his immaculate clothes and trimmed hair; Stefan in his nakedness; and, standing several people away from Stefan and apparently having cleaned himself, RajTwight, swaddled in bright red sash. Standing in the middle, was Harmony, her arms tucked behind her back, looking terribly elegant in her blue dress. Maia wished a gaping maw to Hell would open beneath them and chew them up.

Instead, Harmony, seeing the attention of the meadow focused on her, raised both hands into the air and said,

"Welcome dear friends! Praise Hanuman and may He bless our Solstice Celebration " The crowd replied with a drunken roar while Harmony beamed with an approving look that (Maia could swear) had a degree of smugness (Maia could also swear was directed at her). "As with every year, we celebrate our commitment to ascend to the Infinite Crag together. And together, we follow the wisdom of Hanuman." Again, there were bursts of cheers and sporadic clapping that quickly petered out, as Harmony raised her arms, indicating she wasn't finished. "Together, we work and learn. Together, we continue Hanuman's great work. It is such noble and wonderful work, and we, the members of the Directorate, are so honored to be leading you in this!"

Another kind of nausea began to well up in Maia, as she tired of Harmony's populism; she'd heard and given her fair share of nonsense speeches that meant nothing and were designed to leave people with warm feelings. Maia was about to walk away, but was held by a harder edge that had crept into Harmony's voice. The rest of the crowd felt the change as well, and stood still and quiet as they watched Harmony say with a slight frown,

"Only together, united and solid may we do Hanuman's work. But if our togetherness, if our unity is threatened, if our family is threatened, if our beliefs are threatened... Then we have no choice to act on it and defend ourselves. Not long ago, an element in our midst had been fomenting dissent and spreading dangerous lies that threatened to tear us apart. We are fortunate that our oldest and dearest member of the Directorate, MahaLindy caught it and took swift action! She discovered that Aidan Johnson had been destroying the land with his filthy machines! He was defiling the Holy Earth Mother, against the wishes of Hanuman! But he was stopped and punished! It was a great victory! Remember to stay vigilant! If you see something, say something! Never will we have the enemy in our midst!"

A series of forcefully loud cheers rose, as Harmony gave an appreciative nod and bow to MahaLindy, who in turn smiled lovingly at everyone, basking in the approval for her part in leading Aidan's lynching. It was all Maia could do to stay quiet, trying to calm herself with the thought that she would be filing an official report against MahaLindy and throwing that manipulative crone into jail. Yet, Harmony continued,

"However, that wasn't all of the enemy acts. Thanks to our new monitoring equipment, some terrible new information has come to light." The crowd grew tensely quiet, perhaps worried that whatever minor infraction they'd done was about to be targeted. "As you know, our dear friend John was found dead in our most sacred areas. Quite shockingly, although we hoped it would be an accident, it was not. He was murdered."

Mutterings spread in the crowd, as Maia looked around desperately hoping to see someone, anyone who might be frowning or disapproving--but everyone had begun yelling rapturously at "justice" needing to be served. Had everyone lost their minds? Was this island insane? Whatever hope Maia had for the fate of the Liberation and the fundamental goodness of people continued to puff away, as Harmony continued,

"Fear not, my friends. We have solved John's murder, thanks to the efforts of the Messiah. However, as we investigated, another horrendous fact emerged: John was murdered by the Council! They did it to hide their crimes against the People! They were going to overthrow us and impose their ways on us! Be strong, my dear friends! We, the Salt Spring Directorate, are prepared. We will be safe. We are very confident that our unity will protect us! Just as we destroyed the evil that Aidan brought, we will destroy the enemy if they step on our shores!" Harmony declared, pumping her fist in the air as abandoned hollering joined her.

Maia's mouth dropped. The woman was insane. Even granting that the Council had done questionable deeds, it wasn't cause to completely twist the facts and effectively declare war on the Council! Was she threatening to tear the Liberation apart? Did no one know how that would invite the disaster of the return of the corporate estates? Yet, the only care people had around Maia was to demonstrate their devotion to Harmony and her Directorate.

As the yelling subsided, Harmony's expression again turned somber as she said, "Sadly, even though we purged the traitor in our community, the cancer of betrayal continues in our midst. It threatens to spread! It endangers us and our livelihood! Bring him out!"

No. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Maia had to force herself not scream in horror as SriSharma, gagged and bound like an animal to slaughter, was dragged out and plopped in front of Harmony's feet. Angry grumblings and whisperings spread among the crowd, as Harmony stood and glared at SriSharma, her arms akimbo. Just as the chattering was increasing to loud talking, Harmony's arm thrust out at the crowd, silencing everyone.

"Truly, my heart was broken when I found out that SriSharma Johnson had betrayed us. I struggled to understand. Did we not nurture him? Did we not help him ascend the Infinite Crag? I can understand that Aidan was his brother, but how could he betray us, his spiritual family?" Harmony sighed and shook her head. "But what should we do? True, we must purge the evil from our community... But SriSharma is one of our own! Can we be so callous to do that?" Yet, it seemed the crowd was pitiless. Calls were being made to have SriSharma burned or hanged or worse, but Harmony surprised them all with, "No, we cannot be so heartless. Remember that Hanuman teaches us to have compassion as well. We must show love to our own. We must show acceptance. However, we must also punish and be firm. And so, after long and hard deliberations with the Directorate, we have decided to on the following punishment. Everyone in the community will strike him once to show our displeasure! Let us be known for our mercy!"

Cheers rose again as Harmony turned and waved at two of the climbing-guards to lift SriSharma up from the ground, and she proceeded to slap him across the face. The other members of the Directorate weren't so kind. Stefan and RajTwight decided to punch him in the face, while Mark's blow landed in the gut and MahaLindy delivered a kick to the shins. As soon as the Directorate was finished, the other climbing-guards on stage gave their own blows--all to the tune of fierce chanting from the crowd. For a moment, Maia had hoped that the hitting would end there, but that would have been for a far more gentle, rational and sane reality. Instead, a queue had started to form leading up to the stage, with everyone in the community eager to dole out their own punishment.

In short order, SriSharma's face became a ruin of blood and bruises that Maia struggled to avert her eyes from--but was paralyzed by the probable fact that he, as well as his brother Aidan, had been singled out for punishment because they'd worked with her to uncover John's videos. What drove Maia to action was finally catching sight of Rene, who was in the middle of a rowdy crew of laughing climbers... waiting in line to strike SriSharma, looking as eager as the rest. Rene? How could he be part of this insanity? How could he participate in this mass punishment of SriSharma, his friend? It was unbelievable. The nutters on the island could take part in it, but not Rene. Not him. He had to have more sense than them.

Unable to take the sight of Rene and no longer caring about the aggressive mood of the crowd, Maia was about to stride forward and pull him away when a naked rear end suddenly appeared in front of her, causing her to nearly trip over the person who had bent over in front of her. Intensely irritated but still set on her mission, she tried to navigate around the naked obstacle, but before she could the person stood back up, lurched in front Maia, and firmly pushed her backwards. Now with a new object of her anger, Maia was about to yell at the person, but to her surprise, under the matted hair and layers of dirt, Maia recognized Rene's wife Liza, who said in garbled voice, "Don't," before launching into a series of grunting, scratching at the ground and impressively vigorous headbanging that would have matched the music had it involved thrashing guitars and high-pitched screaming.

Thinking that she must have imagined the ReWilder talking, Maia again tried walking around the woman, but again, Liza appeared before her with a big bunny leap and then proceeded to pirouetted twice while howling at the sky, and finally ended by grabbing Maia by the wrist and saying very audibly this time,

"Don't go there. Stay here. Don't move. No one will notice you."

Maia stared, still not quite registering the words and acts of the ReWilder, so she instead mustered her indignation and said,

"I'm the Messiah! I can go anywhere I want! I represent the Council and I'm going to put a stop to... Mfff!" The rest of Maia's righteous speech was muffled by Liza's hand whipping up to cover her mouth, an act that was hidden by Liza's dancing and wildly swinging hair. Too surprised to react and finding that the ReWilder was extraordinarily strong, Maia let herself be guided backwards into a quiet corner of the meadow.

After ensure that no one was around, Liza pulled Maia closer and hissed amidst grunts and howls, "Don't be an idiot, Maia. You're going to get killed. You think being the Messiah will protect you? It won't. Just stay here."

"Are you crazy? I can't stand by and watch this... this disgusting mass beating! What do you mean being the Messiah won't protect me? I'm protected by the Council! They won't dare to touch me!" Maia proclaimed, though with less certainty as her gaze fell upon the unending, unhesitating beating of SriSharma, whose limp body continued to absorb blows, his sagging head bobbing over his blood-soaked chest with each hit.

"The same Council you fucked over with your expose of them working with the corporate and the estate owners?" Liza growled. Seeing her surprised expression, Liza chuckled darkly, as she stooped to the ground to throw dirt over her body. "You think that just because we're ReWilders, we're out of the loop? Everyone knows, Maia. Harmony made sure of it. Your interview with her was projected on all of our screens and shared with everyone. You heard her: the Council betrayed us and killed John. That's what we're supposed to believe."

Humiliation spread through Maia, as she realized her stupidities were not only being taken advantage of, but magnified. Concentrating on what she could make right, Maia looked again at SriSharma and repeated, "Get out of my way! SriSharma! I have to help him. I can't let them..."

"Will you keep your voice down, for shit's sake?" Liza snarled, pouncing up and down and howling to the sky. "Everyone's focused on the punishing, but do you fucking know what they'll do to me or my child if they found out I spoke to you? SriSharma will survive this. He'll be in pain, and he may not talk again, but he'll live. Harmony will want him to be a living example. Fucking hell, what the hell does Rene see in you? To think I'm risking my ass to help you."

"Rene? But he's up there too, waiting to hit SriSharma," Maia spluttered.

"Yeah, of course he is. He's expected to. He's part of that goddamned climbing cult. They need to show their loyalty. If he didn't do it, he'd be in SriSharma's place," Liza muttered bitterly. "Why do you think I chose the ReWilders? The worst we need to do is walk around naked and throw shit on ourselves. We don't have to follow Harmony's fucking climbing fascism, like Rene does. That's his choice. He gets to sleep in a bed and eat decent food, but he's gotta fuck people over sometimes. Meanwhile, I sleep in the fucking cold on the ground and roll around in dirt. Not sure what's better, but there you go."

"That's ridiculous. Absurd. No one's forcing you to do this. This is the Liberation! You have the right to do what you want to!" Maia protested, even as her words rang hollow, remembering the role that she played as the Messiah and the acting she did to make people fall in line with the Liberation.

"Riiiight. Some fucking choice we have. We all do what we need to do to stay protected and out of the way," Liza spat, rolling around on the ground. "You've got a pretty good gig as the Messiah. Maybe you should try sticking to it, instead of messing it up."

The words stung as they hit their mark, but Maia reflexively tried to defend herself, "You have no right! No right to talk to me like this! I demand you..."

"Shutup goddamn it! Shuttup! You're going to get us fucking killed!" Liza swore. "Get the hell out of here, ok? You don't know what you're fucking doing. You're causing more problems than you're goddamned solving. Fuck, I gotta go. I warned you. I did what I agreed to. Now leave us in fucking peace!"

Liza abruptly turned away and stomped off, howling and barking as she did so, leaving Maia alone and bewildered. Liza was right. There was nothing Maia could do. The crowd leading up to SriSharma was enormous. There really was no way for her stop them - and no telling what they would do to her if she tried. What could she do with the entire crowd obediently and even eagerly participating? Yet, even with those logical reasons not to do anything, Maia was ashamed by her powerlessness and pathetic lack of will and sacrifice to do anything.

Reaching the conclusion regarding her flimsy moral fiber and unable to tolerate facing it any more, Maia forced her gaze away and commanded her body to walk away. But just as the horrible pull to keep watching SriSharma's continued mauling was broken, she was again transfixed as she watched Rene, whose turn had come up, cocking his fist and slamming it into SriSharma's bloody jaw... following which Harmony came over to give him a tap on the back and nod. Instead of seeing any trace of remorse in Rene's face, she saw nothing but the relaxed, happy look of an obedient lackey having accomplished the task that had been asked of him.

Now completely repulsed, Maia fled the meadow, aimlessly running leadenly up the path, eventually finding herself back at the community plaza, where there blissfully was no one. Everyone was probably in the field waiting to get their chance to vent their repression on SriSharma. In the plaza, she was unsurprised to find twice the number of tables as at meal time, arranged buffet-style and littered with plates of food that were mostly empty. As with all the meals she'd had in the community, the offerings were impressive; even half eaten and picked at, the spread was a feast unavailable anywhere else in the Liberated territories. Sure there, still wasn't real meat, but the salad was still there, naturally, bowls and bowls of it with even plenty of dressings to drown them in. Not only that there was plenty of carbs, from pans of creamy scalloped potatoes, to chewy baked bread to mounds of brown rice, all of which was perfect to imbibe the sauces and spreads, fragrantly spiced and filled with beans and nuts to provide all the protein you needed to be a climber - or mindless goon, as it were. Though she felt no hunger, Maia headed to the food anyway, as soothing her depression and anger with food was always a tried and true technique. Besides, when next would she have access to such a variety of food? But, not surprisingly, even as Maia grabbed a plate and began dolling bits and pieces of everything on her plate, none of it appealed to her.

As Maia moved through the tables, she noticed a brownish, raisin studded loaf-looking like item that was sitting on a cutting board, and mostly cut into thick slabs. Ah, Maia thought, probing a spongy piece with her finger. This was likely Rene's nuttyloaf that Harmony had mentioned and raved about. Well, at the very least, it was worth a try, she convinced herself as she popped a piece into her mouth... but almost immediately regretted the decision. In spite of its glistening, meat-like appearance, it had none of the qualities of the meatloaf that it was presumably trying to imitate. Instead of a moist piece of salty goodness, what ended up in Maia's mouth was dry to point of chalkiness and as tastelessly bland as if they'd accidentally mistaken a foam prop for the actual dish. Maia had to spit it out. Her appetite fully lost, Maia dropped her plate on the table, stuffed a few baked potatoes into her pocked and walked off, hoping she could leave everything behind and her legs would miraculously lead her to a much better place without false idols and nasty politicking.

Some aimless wandering later, Maia ended up on a quiet rocky shore. The summer night was slow to darken skies, leaving a pale light that cast a bluish glow. Realizing she was standing in the direction of Vancouver, she could easily reach and connect to the intranet and... Do what exactly? Get yelled at by any number of people including Jamie, who was probably planning a literal and figurative public flagellation for her? Or see how many comments were on her vidstream that were now mocking her and demanding her resignation? Though she didn't connect, her netset's automatic offline ping updated the basic numbers of her profile, telling her helpfully that her message box had been filled and she had over fifty urgent marked messages. What they said wasn't a mystery: she'd royally fucked everything up. She didn't need a few hundred thousand reminders of it. Great. Maia plunked herself on the edge of a large rock and sulked.

A bright flashing light, however, forced her out her reverie, making her look up, wondering where it could have come from. Oddly it had come from the ocean. Looking more closely, she could see a number of intense strobing lights in the distance, suggesting that some kind of ship was approaching. Not just any kind of ship. If their surveying lights were bright enough to have reached her, they had to be huge ships. But how could that be? The only vessels that were allowed to cross the area were the ferries and they didn't take that path.

Commanding her netset to turn on, and ignoring the deluge of messages, Maia magnified the image in the distance to see what it was. What she saw took her aback. That was impossible! But this meant... That was crazy! It would be a disaster! The alarm needed to be raised! The Council needed to know!

Maia was in the middle of composing her message when a sharp pain came across her head, and everything went dark.

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# Chapter 21

"Well? Did she? Did she send out the message?" Smooth-Face demanded, swiveling his outsized captain's chair in the direction of a uniformed man stationed in front of one of the many series of holo-displays, flickering updates and status reports. At least, it was presumably a man, as it was hard to tell under the layers of body-armor and injection-induced muscle-growth that Smooth-Face insisted his troops wear and submit to. Like many of Smooth-Face's strong conservative "family-valued" associates, there was an explicit regulation among his troops that all combat personnel be Men, since according to some dubious study, they were that much steadier (and obviously the woman's place was servicing other men's needs). Unfortunately, there was some possibility that the person Smooth-Face was haranguing was a woman, as the Uprising had forced many unpleasant compromises to be made, such as the inclusion of women among the troops--many of which should, if the plan went well, be on the path to be rectified tonight.

Pounding his gloved and padded fist on his armrest, Smooth-Face asked again as his composure continued to lose the battle with his impatience, "Answer me, dammit! Do you realize how much is hinging on this operation? How much money is being risked here? If those hippies stop that shipment, the fucking Chinese will never work with us again!"

"Relax, will you? Can't you see the poor man is trying to confirm our current status? Let the man do his job that we pay him so much for. Remember, we have to be thankful for our loyal police-military-complex paramilitaries. They're taking a risk on this as much as we are," Redhead-Boy drawled from the seat beside Smooth-Face - one that wasn't as large or as festooned with the fancy panels and techy-doodads, but annoyingly influential nonetheless. As opposed to everyone else in the room, Redhead-Boy wasn't decked-out in the highest-end Chinese military hardware, but instead was sporting a pair of slacks and a yellow t-shirt that said 'Namaste Mofo.'

Of the estate owners, only Redhead-Boy and Smooth-Face were on the ship, though everyone else were connected via a live feed monitoring the unfolding events. It wasn't hard to guess that Smooth-Face would have much preferred to be there alone as he'd planned; but given that Redhead-Boy already had his forces waiting in the Straight, he had had to be included and tolerated, and Smooth-Face had no choice but to refrain from commenting on the boy's flippancy and disrespect.

Leaning forward in his chair, Redhead-Boy addressed the man who had been indeed fielding a number of different calls through his netset, "Any time would be a good time for us to know how we're doing... but take your time, please. It's not like your livelihoods are weighing on it."

"Sir, yes sir. Sorry for the delay, sir. We were confirming with our counterparts, but they have been using older tech protocols that we've been working around," the paramiliatry officer apologized, as he turned to face his employers. "The Messiah was intercepted in time and no warning message or otherwise went through. The operation is still secure."

"Good. See? Everything is fine," Redhead-Boy smiled, while adding to the paramilitary, "How about we call her Maia or Ms. Lam, ok? There's no reason to continue the Uprising's propaganda here, is there?"

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir," the paramilitary replied stiffly.

"Is Maia secure? Is she still alive?" Smooth-Face pressed on.

"Yes, sir. They have her. She's currently unconscious. She is being brought to a secure location right now," the paramilitary said with a bow, before returning to his duties and probably wishing for a command structure with fewer armchair commanders.

Straightening himself in his chair and steepling his fingers in front of him, Smooth-Face regained his composure to casually explain his previous nervousness to Redhead-Boy, "I was merely protecting our interests. This operation has to succeed, and I'm working towards that." Then, remembering that he had no reason to explain himself to Redhead-Boy at all, he said primly, "As the commander of this operation, I'll thank you to leave the strategic decisions with me."

"For sure, for sure! My deepest and sincerest apologies for pointing out that there was nothing to worry about," Redhead-Boy grinned, as he took a sip from, of all things, what appeared to be a pina-colada. "You do realize, of course, that even if Maia did get her message out, the operation would still be secure. At this point, nothing could come in time to stop the shipment."

Looking fixedly ahead into the holo-displays, Smooth-Face curled his lips, not responding to Redhead-Boy's taunting. "I wasn't worried about the shipment. With the forces we have here, we can easily protect it and push it through. That much is obvious." Flashing Redhead-Boy a contemptuous look, Smooth-Face grabbed a report from a paramilitary and fussily perused it before providing his biometric signature. "What I'm worried about is the damned population. If they find out we're involved, they'll overthrow the government and ruin all the time we invested in our partners. Ultimately, this shipment is nothing. Of course, we can ram it through. But it's worthless if we can't put any more through after they decide to mine the Straight. We need the Northern passage permanently open."

Redhead-Boy had nothing to say to that, and continued lounging as if he were merely watching a football game - which Smooth-Face was probably very grateful for, even though he didn't show it. However, even Smooth-Face had to admit that the operation had gone a lot smoother than any of their strategists could have hoped. After months of planning, building relationships, and bribing, they'd finally gotten to this point. True, not everything had gone according to plan, as Maia didn't behave quite as they'd anticipated and required prodding to get to where they wanted; but the essence of the outcome was ideal: sowing distrust of the Council and the Liberation and occupying them for enough time to prevent them from intervening. From what the reports were saying and what his personnel could glean from the media and the brief messages from their own informants on the mainland, the Council and Vancouver were convulsed in protests. The people weren't quite demanding they step down yet, which was fine, but they were having heated town-hall meetings where much yelling was going on - which was entirely desirable. So long as the rabble was drowning in their so-called democracy and open-systems, it would play into Smooth-Face and his associates' hands.

It was at this point that Smooth-Face and his associates could reasonably hope the operation would succeed after all, and perhaps that the massive resources they brought to bear were something of an overkill. Certainly, with the logic of cost-return ratios, Smooth-Face, as the operations manager, hoped they would be using the expensive troops they'd squeezed into a total of three vessels that were outfitted with the most advanced stealth-technology; otherwise, they would have gone to waste and the cost would have been unjustified. The cost for the food alone for these troops was ridiculous, not to mention the bullets, the gear and the insurance policies they'd had to pull out for everyone. Indeed, the operation's ledger, which was constantly open by Smooth-Face's eye, said the per head cost for each paramilitary was exactly 690 credits per hour! At that cost, they damned well had better shoot at least one hairy hippie each. On the other hand, it was clearly better to be on the safe side, and the heavy expenditures aside, the success of the operation was well worth it.

"Sir?" a paramilitary said professionally, pointing to the illuminated graphic that showed a series of blinking dots. "The ship is entering the Straight and will be hidden from the Chinese for approximately an hour and half. The Chinese are requesting access to our datafeed so they can monitor the situation. Should I grant them access?"

"Oh! The Chinese! Our partners in crime!" Redhead-Boy clapped his delightedly. "How good to know they are watching our situation. Surely, they won't screw us over, will they?"

Ignoring the outburst, Smooth-Face nodded to the paramilitary with a faint reddening of his cheeks, "Grant them access. Let them know everything is proceeding according to plan."

Regarding the Chinese, there was undoubtedly a question whether they would renege on their agreement and decide not to intervene if things went poorly - or worse, decide to take advantage of the situation and take control of the area. It wasn't the first time that a Chinese protectorate had been carved out another country's shore in the name of "humanitarian interests." Yet, working with them was a necessary risk, no matter what Redhead-Boy thought, as Smooth-Face and his associates still required the international financial markets, which the Chinese both owned and operated. Nevertheless, in the final analysis, it was a good thing that Redhead-Boy had brought his own forces into play in the area, even though his trustworthiness was less than desirable. As a point in fact that Smooth-Face was worried about, before they flew out of the compound to take control of the troops, their cabal of corporate estate owners had agreed to place Red-Head as a secondary officer - in the off chance that anything should happen to Smooth-Face, unlikely as that possibility was, of course.

"So, tell me," Redhead-Boy said in a loud whisper, as he sidled over and hid his mouth with a hand. "What do you plan on doing with your share of the Vancouver market?"

The frown on Smooth-Face quickly changed into a placid mask, as he replied, "I'm not in a habit of making any plans, when it is too premature to anticipate the outcome."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me that you haven't made some preliminary plans? I've seen how thorough you are, and it wouldn't surprise me if you've made several five-year project plans already," Redhead-Boy smiled knowingly.

"Again, let me reiterate that it is too premature to make plans. Also, I should point out that we and the entire corporate and estate owners alliance have agreed to discuss those plans as part of a negotiation process when the Northern Passageway is decisively open," Smooth-Face said coolly and officiously, belying the undeniable fact that he had certainly made his own plans, this being the logical operations manager thing to do; but sharing those plans was certainly not something he was inclined to do with a dangerous rival.

"Sure, sure. I'm sure everyone has followed that agreement too," Redhead-Boy laughed. "Listen, I know you won't tell me because you don't trust me or my methods... I'm guessing also you're probably still a little miffed at my having killed that lard-ass at the meeting."

Smooth-Face's brow had a very slight hint of furrow before he smiled shinily and waved his hand, "Not at all. It was business. I understand that it was necessary to eliminate the man, though I would have preferred to do so in private rather than in front of everyone, so it's really a stylistic question rather than one of substance. That said, I honestly have not made any firm plans for Vancouver. I've thought of it of course, as everyone has, but I have not made any plans." Smooth-Face chuckled lightly, his gaze locked with Redhead-Boy, as he scrutinized him for any indication that he may know anything more than he was letting on. Satisfied that it appeared only to be a probe, Smooth-Face said, "Now, if you don't mind, I have to monitor this operation and our collaborators are due to touch base with us any minute now..."

"I made plans. In fact, I signed two contracts before coming out here, divvying up the Vancouver food distribution territory. I also established three verbals to cooperate on controlling the labor," Redhead-Boy interrupted, causing Smooth-Face's expression to harden. "Oh, I know the agreement we made. No need to repeat it to me. I know I'm acting against it right now, and you have full right to sanction me. On the other hand, we both know that those agreements were a sham one way or the other. I'm telling you this not because I'm trying to make a point about that. I'm telling you because I want you to trust me."

"Trust you?" Smooth-Face's eyebrow was arched as high as it could go. Any further and it would likely fly off his face.

"Trust me," Redhead-Boy repeated earnestly, putting his pina-colada down and raising his hands to show nothing was there. "Listen, I know we've had our differences, and I know I've stepped on your feet, but everything I've done was to ensure my estate's survival. I'll be even more honest with you right now: things aren't going well for us either. Our machinery is breaking down, and I need cheap, compliant labor same as you do. Common theme isn't it? It is true though. I need this to work as much as everyone, despite all that I said about people having to depend on me. The reality is that I depend on everyone as much as they on me: if you fall, I'll be crushed too."

"And why are you telling me this?" Smooth-Face asked warily, not showing the surprise he felt at the information being revealed. While it wasn't surprising Redhead-Boy was struggling - they all were, obviously - that he was putting it out in the open was unusual.

"I want to make a deal with you," Redhead-Boy said, his expression stonily serious. "I've always been jealous of you, you know. You've always succeeded in making the best out of our situation - far better than everyone else. Bottom line is that I want to be part of that, to benefit from your skills, and learn from them - yes, learn from them. I'd like us to work together to make our businesses thrive."

Smooth-Face's rigid, well-practiced smile suppressed the loud snort that he nearly released in response to Redhead-Boy's flattery. Those techniques may work on lesser men, but Smooth-Face was skilled enough to know when he was being manipulated - and he knew also that Redhead-Boy's supposed desire to "learn" from him was ridiculous. Even though he seemed young and boy-like, thanks to gene-regenerative treatments and surgeries, Redhead-Boy's true age was close to the sixties - older, in fact, than Smooth-Face. It was clear that some heavy dealing was going on, but so long as Smooth-Face kept final word on the operation, none of it would impact him, and he would be able to dictate the final rules. So, in a soft, diplomatic, non-committal tone, Smooth-Face said, "As I said before, our agreements currently forbid me to make arrangements before the conclusion of this operation. If you'd like to chat afterwards, though, I'd be happy to do so, as well as arrange for any, ah, learning opportunities."

"Actually, no," Redhead-Boy said pointedly, leaning forward. "It would be best for us to make our deals beforehand, since I'm planning on our agreements to exclude the others. While I do depend on them, I don't need to depend on all of them. There are a few people we can do without, I'm sure you can come up with a list of your own of people to be rid of. This crisis has opportunity, as the Chinese say."

"That's not an accurate interpretation of what the Chinese say, but I'm listening," Smooth-Face said, his smile relaxing; backstabbing and deal-making was something he was comfortable with - and he was recording everything should he need to use it later. "What do you have in mind?"

Redhead-Boy grinned as he retrieved his drink, took a long sip from the colorful straw and leaned back into his chair. "Just a simple idea. Nothing more than a very very simple idea: we compensate those who worked, while we ignore those who piggybacked on our efforts. Obviously, you and I did the most leg-work and being here, we're taking the most risk, so we should be compensated at the highest tier. Others, though... Why should they benefit from our hard work? Why should they mooch off us? That isn't fair, is it? If they want their share, they should damned well work for it. So, let's just say that unless they want to start being footsoldiers against the Uprising, then they can go fuck themselves."

"They did put in the same investment as everyone else," Smooth-Face pointed out with an amused smile.

"Right, right, with the same imaginary money that we all have and generate," Redhead-Boy sneered. "Money, credits, dollars, euroyen, yuan... what are they really except imaginary play-money? None of it has any use if there is nothing backing the value of it. And is there value anymore? Value used to mean something. Gold. Diamonds. That meant something. But now value is a puff of fanciful winds and trends that's quick to blow away like so much flatulence, until someone else inflates another imaginary bullshit and that becomes the thing to buy. It's nothing more than a very convoluted game - a game we're all good at, but still a game that has no meaning."

"You're sounding almost like one of the leaders of the Uprising," Smooth-Face noted with amusement, tapping his finger on his cheek.

"Perhaps, I do. But they do have one thing right," Redhead-Boy said, as he raised a finger in the air. "The only thing that is worth anything is hard goods. The time of creative-innovation-potential-collateral is done. No one gives a shit about what can be created anymore or intellectual capital. Who can pay for it? The service economy ended decades ago when we overtook it. Hard goods. Food. Tools. Labor. Seeds. Water. Soil. Fertilizer. Those are what have value now, and those fuckers know it."

"I see," Smooth-Face murmured, still tapping his cheek. "I still haven't heard a proposal from you."

Redhead-Boy smiled very broadly. "I've been saving it for last. My plan is to manage the resources in Vancouver. All of them. I'd move slowly, of course. I'd start with protein from my own plants, and then spread to water-purifiers and soil conditioners. I have all of the relevant corporate estates working with me and they've agreed to provide the necessary trading mechanisms. We won't invade the bastards. That's ridiculous. We'll just trade with them until they become so in debt to us that we own them. Then we'll keep the façade up and let them cycle through leaders after leaders while we profit as usual." Redhead-Boy paused letting Smooth-Face make the appropriate calculations, before saying, "So screw the fuckers who aren't helping. We've got our own group. We need one thing though: an operations manager who can deal with all the separate strands of this very complicated moving puzzle. We need someone who can work with a complex system and manage it. Someone who would get a 2% cut off of every transaction. Someone like you."

This brought pause to Smooth-Face in spite of Redhead-Boy's pandering. Though a little on the low side, the offer was would secure Smooth-Face's finances for many years, as the projection of the number of deals made in Vancouver would expand and grow as their presence was secured. Sure, in the beginning the returns would be low and the amount of planning and organizing would be delicate and complicated, but it was nothing Smooth-Face and his operation-managing skills would not be able to easily handle; besides, once set into motion, the structure of the deals and networked arrangements would run themselves, and the funds would simply roll in without any effort. A basic calculation, on the conservative side, predicted an annual yield of 2.2 million credits - and this wasn't even counting Smooth-Face's own projects that he would do on the side. The question came back to whether or not he should be going against the agreements he'd made with the other estate owners - or whether it should come down to the simple laissez-faire rules of natural selection. The answer didn't take long for Smooth-Face to come up with, though not without some wheedling:

"That is an interesting offer," Smooth-Face said, unable to completely control the excitement in his voice. "But I'd be much more inclined to think about it - just think about it, mind you - if it were a 5% commission."

Redhead-Boy smiled. "2.5%"

"4.5%"

"3%"

"3.5%"

"Deal," Redhead-Boy said, as he extended his hand. "I'm delighted that you're willing to bend the rules a little. It's a pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise," Smooth-Face nodded, as he shook Redhead-Boy's hand. "This will be a profitable enterprise for all of us. I think we'll need to..."

Smooth-Face words turned into a gurgle, as a paramilitary, who had been waiting behind him for Redhead-Boy's signal, strangled him with garrote. Smooth-Face's eyes bulged and reddened, and his limbs flailed, while Redhead-Boy watched and finished his pina-colada. Only when Smooth-Face's body slackened and his now-blotchy face sagged on his chest did Redhead-Boy turn his chair away and address the paramilitary officer who had been looking on dispassionately.

"It took that fat fuck long enough to decide, didn't he? Whodda thunk that imbecile would be such an anal fuck on rules?" Redhead-Boy grumbled. "That was sent to the others, of course?"

"Yes, sir. With the appropriate edits," the paramilitary officer answered.

"Good. Excellent. They'll be baying for his resignation in less time it takes to get off a gang-banged whore," Redhead-Boy said, squinting as he reviewed his messages. Clapping his hands and rubbing them together, he said, "And now for the next step! How are things going with our fellow conspirators?"

"They say that they're close to contacting us, sir," the paramilitary said grimacing as he pointed at a few blinking indicators on the holo-display. "Those fools are taking a long time integrating our tools. I'm not sure it was a good idea to share our equipment with them."

"Now, now, be nice. We only gave them the second generation communication and surveillance gear. And, they're more alike to us than any of us would like to admit," Redhead-Boy said. "After all, anyone who's willing to sell-off their own to gain benefit, is someone I can understand. Let's put them on and see what they have to say about Maia the so-called Messiah."

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# Chapter 22

As Maia blearily came to, she heard a male voice say,

"Connection established, sorry for the delay."

With the throbbing pain in her head, she naturally wanted to find the source of the voice to curse them, but in trying to get up, she quickly discovered that one: she was blindfolded; and two: her hands were bound. Then, in the process of at least trying into a seated position and ending up mashing her mouth into in a bunch of pine needles--she discovered that three: whoever had knocked her out, bound her, and kidnapped her had deposited her somewhere outside--and not on a couch or mattress as any civilized hostage taker would do. Though she probably should have been worried that her current state may be a prelude to her being killed or raped, Maia found herself mainly furious at having been treated in such an unceremonious and undignified manner.

"See? I knew he would be able to set it up," a woman's voice said proudly in a familiar way that Maia couldn't quite place. The background noise of the Solstice Celebration was making anything difficult to hear--which made her conclude that four: she was still somewhere on Salt Spring island and roughly within the vicinity of the meadow or community plaza. Apparently, Maia thought crabbily, her investigative skills were now making an appearance.

"Nice to see you again, as well as meet the rest of you. It's always good to put a face to the people I've been doing business with," a distant, lively male voice said, which Maia reasonably assumed belonged to her captors' collaborator who was communicating via projector. Maia desperately hoped the owner of the voice wasn't part of the group she feared, but his next words chilled her. "I know it must have been difficult for you to come to make this current arrangement with me and my group, but it's been surprising for us too! Imagine, us, who used to fight with each other are now working together! It's just proof that even after battling each other we can still find common ground."

Oh, great. Just great. Whoever it was was obviously an estate owner--while her captors were not only traitors to the Liberation and its people, but probably John's killer also. Well, Maia figured sullenly, the silver lining of her shit-filled sack of a situation was that she could finally figure out who had been behind John's death. Rolling her body to the side, Maia tried to angle herself more towards the conversation to glean more inklings about her captors.

"Yes, it's an irony we're learning to adjust to," a firm woman's voice said. "We appreciate that you understand the need to be discrete in our arrangements. The People wouldn't completely understand why we've made this choice, even though we've made efforts to influence them in that direction."

"Of course! I completely understand," the projected voice said genially. "A people's government does tend to be a few steps ahead of its people. It takes time for reality to set in and for the ah... People to absorb it. As with myself, my own colleagues have been wary of doing business with you. However trading with you has been of great benefit to us both, wouldn't you agree? There can be a future after all the craziness of a few years ago!"

A dreadful picture began to form in Maia's head, even though there had been hints of it forming in her head, as she placed the woman's firm voice. Familiarity with the corporate estates? Treating the People as if they were a tiresome business that needed to be worked around? The commanding, arrogant, confident voice could only belong to one person. Jamie. Jamie Ellis. But could it be? Could it really be her? But how was it possible? How could she have gotten the other Council members on board so easily? Surely, they wouldn't have allowed their responsibilities to their respective Liberation groups to make such a betrayal?

And that ship that she saw in the Straight! That was the worst of all! If it was carrying what Maia thought it was, it would be reversing every single principle that the Liberation held dear. Yet, Maia mused cynically, if Jamie and the Council were already willing to work with the corporate estates and buy their toxic seed, then compromises would have readily snowballed and it would have only been a few steps to planning to remove the Directorates from power--and even for Jamie to kill her own brother.

If Maia had any doubts about whether Jamie and the Council were complicit, there were smashed away into a gagillion tiny itybity pieces and pissed away by a torrent of disillusionment. And, if things were as bad as Maia thought it was, she figured the Council must have stolen onto the island to overthrow the Salt Spring Directorate and, at the same time, safeguard their shipment--which Maia could have raised the alarm about but was prevented in doing so. Of course, her worst fears were confirmed:

"There is one thing we want to make sure of. We've been tracking the oil tanker's progress, and we wanted to make sure that you're still maintaining the route we agreed on," the firm woman's voice said. "With the Solstice Celebration going on the island, it's an excellent time for it not to be noticed, seeing as everyone is in the middle of their devotional partying, but even so accidents can happen and the information could be leaked prematurely."

"Like with your Messiah, you mean?" the estate owner said, audibly grinning. "Impressively quick work on stopping her, by the way. I'm pleased that you were monitoring her."

"We have been in watching her ever since she arrived on the island--and the equipment you shared with us has been of great help as well. We've been able to monitor a lot of relevant activity," the firm woman's voice clipped, before doggedly returning to the previous question. "Is the route still being maintained?"

"Certainly. You should have no fears of that," the estate owner said breezily. "The doable passage along the Salt Spring coast is very specific, as you know, so the tanker won't be able to deviate much one way or the other. So long as you monitor things on your end and we do so on ours, it won't be a problem. The operation will go smoothly--and trust me, it will--and it'll just be the start of many more. The Northern passage will be reopened for business and you'll be pulled out of your poverty!"

This was bad. Gargantually apocalyptically biblically bad. Not only was the Liberation being betrayed by a Council member, but it was being betrayed in the worst possible way: oil was returning to the Straight, along with the risks of spills and the environmental destruction that it would inevitably bring. Hadn't past spills and mistakes been enough for the tankers never to come back? But why now? And for what? For power? For some kind cheap rationalization that Maia couldn't figure out? What was driving Jamie to do what she did? Who knows? Maybe there was some kind reason that it had to happen, or maybe, Maia hoped, it was some kind of clever ploy to trick the corporate estate owners, but she doubted it.

The only conclusion was that it was part of some kind of corruption that Jamie's position of authority had engendered. Maia had thought she knew Jamie, thinking that she'd been relatively honest. Sure, like herself she'd come from an estate family, but Maia had thought that she was truly reformed like herself and would have stayed true to the Liberation. Obviously not. The other horrifying conclusion that couldn't be avoided was that Jamie had killed her own brother to hide her involvement with the corporates and the estate owners. It was a betrayal that boggled her mind in its magnitude. What could have happened? Had Jamie gotten tired of working for the People? Had she given up? Maia couldn't understand. Her years of seemingly dedicated service had apparently been just leading up to an epic backstabbing.

Either way, Maia wasn't going down that path. Realizing that she was likely going to die, Maia came to a firm decision: she was going to stay true to the Liberation; she would continue fighting for the People. Of course, she knew she hadn't been the best Messiah, but at least she wouldn't die without having at least tried to stop the estates and the destruction of the Liberation.

And so, flipping onto her back, Maia did the only thing that she could think of, and screamed as loudly as she could, hoping people would hear her and take action,

"The corporate estates are coming back! They're invading! This is the Messiah! The Council has betrayed you! Jamie Ellis has betrayed you! An oil tanker is in the straight! Stop it all! Stop it all! Take action! Save the Liberation! Save it from the Council! SAVE US ALL!!! YES WE CAN!!!! EL PUEBLO! UNIDO! JAMAS SERA VINCIDO!"

Out of breath, having used all her lung capacity to scream her valiant rallying cry, Maia wasn't that surprised to hear that no one had taken up cry. The Solstice celebrations, continued without a blip. She'd of course guessed that they were too far to hear her, or the music was too loud--or they were too stoned to do anything, but she had to try. What surprised her was that she had been allowed to scream for as long as she did, thinking that someone surely would have clapped a hand on her mouth, after which she had imagined herself struggling madly as she tried to continue to scream, until they'd have to shoot her, and she'd be able to do down in a brilliant, heroic blaze of revolutionary glory. But nothing happened. Nothing, except some bemused laughter.

"I guess we know she's awake. Wasn't sure if she was hit too hard, but then again maybe she was," a crotchety man's voice said from nearby her.

"Too bad we didn't record her rant there. That could have been useful," another man said with a pleasant voice.

"Oh, be nice to her, she's a delicate creature," an old woman's voice said sweetly. "Misguided but sweet."

"Sweet? She didn't sound sweet just then," a deep garrulous voice growled with a thick snort. "Or maybe we should ask him how she's like in private."

"Enough," the woman with the voice said, quieting the snarkiness. "Rene, take the blindfold off and unbind her. She's harmless now."

Gentle and familiar hands came to Maia, removing her binds and pulling the cover off from over her eyes. But even having followed conversation and felt his touch, she was still surprised to see Rene, who briefly met her gaze and looked quickly away with an embarrassment. Unable to deal with the mix of fury and betrayal roiling in her, she looked around to find, not Jamie and Council members as she'd mistakenly assumed and built up in her mind, but instead the whole Salt Spring Directorate, a complement of climbing-guards and a bunch of muscled ReWilders.

The firm female voice she'd taken to be Jamie's had in fact been Harmony's. Standing around Harmony was RajTwight with his damned smirk, Mark in all his shiny polishedness, who was accompanied by an amused-looking Elaine, MahaLindy looking sad and compassionate and finally Stefan in his typical wild-man nudity. Projected behind them was an image of red-headed man who seemed incredibly young, but was nevertheless the estate owner they'd been talking to.

It was the estate owner who spoke first, "Glad to see you're still alive, Maia. It wouldn't do to have the Messiah killed. Besides, you're still useful as a public figure that the rabble listens to and looks up to... Did I mention that there are many perks to working with us? With your background, I'm sure you would be familiar with what we can offer you."

"I'm not fucking working for you!" Maia spat out with fury, as she stood to her feet and batted off Rene's hands that tried to support her. Pointing a finger at Harmony and the Directorate she cried out, "What have you done? You fucking lied to me! The Council isn't the traitor! You are! Why are you working with the likes of him? You're betraying your own people!"

"Or you could be useful as a martyr too. That's a classic move and doable," Redhead-Boy shrugged easily, his face plastered with a shit-eating grin.

"Maia," Harmony said severely, her arms crossed. "I didn't lie to you. The documents I gave you and that you publicized are true: the Council is doing business with the corporate estates. What we're doing here is for the preservation for our way of life and we're doing nothing wrong." Harmony arched an eye-brow and sniffed. "Truth is, you're over-reacting to something you don't understand. The situation is much more complicated than you can possibly absorb. We have not betrayed the Liberation. We're saving it."

"Saving it? By working with him?" Maia said incredulously, pointing at Redhead-Boy. "Are you on the same drugs as you give your followers?"

Harmony pursed her lips and frowned, as if deciding what to say. "Yes, we provide them drugs. But only at the time on the Solstice Celebrations, when they can be free. It is an old tradition to vent and release their energies. After your service as the Messiah, surely you must understand the value of these traditions? Don't be so quick to judge us, when you have no idea what you're doing even yourself." Harmony waved at the Directorate members around her. "You have no idea what this group has done to keep this island from going to hell and collapsing into chaos. Shortly after the Liberation, this island was about to destroy itself with petty recriminations and unruly behavior. We would have been yet another one of the communities that self-destructed after the Liberation, being too far from Vancouver and the influence of the Council. But we didn't. We brought peace and order to the island and the community."

"Peace? Fucking peace?" Maia spluttered, then pointing at MahaLindy she said, "Ask that fucking old bitch what that peace is like. With your peace, you have lynch mobs killing innocent farmers who don't believe what you want. You guys are insane! It's against the basic rule of law! That's not peace! You're doing exactly what the estates did before, but only with the hacked-up bullshit excuse of spirituality."

"Oh, dearest," MahaLindy said, clasping her hands together and looking to the Heavens. "It is all for the Love of the People by the blessing of Hanuman. Don't you understand that bringing them in line is for their own good. Saving Aidan from himself was the most compassionate thing to do."

"What fucking bullshit!" Maia swore and was about to launch into a tirade, but was stopped by Harmony.

"Any less bullshit than the fact you're the Messiah?" Harmony asked pointedly. "Yes, there are things that we believe out of convenience here. But the benefits of our acts outweigh their drawbacks. True, some of those drawbacks mean that we need to occasionally do the distasteful act of bringing order to our island. But that's just a small, acceptable sacrifice to maintain our way of life." Harmony spread her arms out. "Do you not see how well we live? How happy people are on this island? How well-fed everyone is on this island? Haven't you noticed that? We have brought the living standards up, while letting people live an honest way of life."

Maia chewed on Harmony's words silently for a moment. She'd have to have been blind if didn't admit to have seen how well people lived on the island. The food, the work, the market, everything screamed wealth. There was no malnutrition or the constant battle with sanitation that was endemic everywhere else in the Liberated communities. In many ways the island was a damned paradise in the middle of a dystopian world. But Maia still couldn't swallow the bullshit that surrounded the claims.

"They live an 'honest' life? Are you kidding? The only way they can do that is by being obedient slaves to you and your fucking goons. Why the hell are you working with the likes of the estates? Why not do it on your own? Live honestly without them! Live off the land! Use permaculture and urban farming! The whole of the Liberated communities do it and so can you!"

"Oh, Maia, if only that were possible. You know also that the Liberated communities are starving. If only it were possible to 'live off the land,' I would happily do it," Harmony said shaking her head. "But it's just not possible. Do you think we didn't try to live by the guidelines the Council sent us? That first winter we nearly all starved to death. Obviously, you've never had to run a community or suffered the responsibility of having to feed everyone. Do you know how much food it takes to feed people? Do you really think our tiny island can produce that? Our meals, while simple, consist of rice and beans. Simple to be sure. However, have you seen any rice fields on the island? Do you know how much land you need to grow enough dry beans? How about the bread? We need wheat for that. Do you think this island has any rolling hills of wheat? No, we can't grow our own food. And neither does the Council send us any extra food besides some basic rations and med supplies. The only way to survive and maintain our way of life is by doing to business and trading assets with the members of the wealthy who are willing to invest in us." Harmony nodded to Mark and Ellen who bowed graciously. "They also are committed to our idyllic way of life. But it does need to be managed. Many of the estates would like to live as we do and we can accommodate that. In exchange for keeping and protecting our way of life, some of them will live here with us. And you can too, Maia. You can still be part of us and still be the Messiah. We can change the rest of the Liberation. Don't want to be part of that?"

Maia screwed her eyes as she listened to Harmony's rant. She'd heard this kind of bullshit before, but she wanted to make sure she knew what Harmony's plan was for the rest of people not blessed to be part of the "in crowd." Without any great expectations, she asked, "Oh yeah? What will happen to Vancouver? Will they have the same arrangement as this?"

"No, of course not," Harmony shook her head. "They would return to being industrialized. Goods need to be produced from somewhere. This kind of life can't work everywhere, nor for everyone. It truly is a privilege for people to be part of a community, and they must earn their place among the followers of Hanuman. The people in Vancouver can, with hard work, eventually become part of our enlightened way."

"I see," Maia replied. "So let me get this straight: Vancouver would go back to being exploited, while you and your Salt Springers get to live in this so-called utopia that the estates will protect and even participate in. Is that right?"

"Precisely," Harmony agreed. "It's a question of logistics and the limited supply of our goods. Not everyone can live here. Like I said, it's a privilege to be here, and people must earn it."

"What about John?" Maia asked.

"What about him?" Harmony said.

"Was it you? Did you kill him?" Maia asked.

Harmony narrowed her eyes. "Yes. The Directorate agreed to have him killed."

"Your own lover? You agreed to have him killed?" Maia said her eyes wide.

"Yes, I agreed to kill him. My 'lover'? Did you think I didn't know he was a spy from the Council?" Harmony sneered. "Of course I took him as a lover. I slept with him until I was sure that he was about to reveal our plan with the corporate estate owners to Jamie and the Council prematurely."

"How could you be so cold? How could you do this?" Maia said genuinely astonished at the lack of remorse in Harmony's expression.

"It was all for you, of course," Harmony smiled easily. "We needed you to be here, so we could frame the Council, which you did splendidly. Thank you very much, by the way. You did an excellent job at that even though you figured out that Rene had been there to keep you distracted. Though considering how slow it took for you to piece together what you did, maybe he did his job too well."

Maia blinked and paled.

Harmony smiled again, glancing quickly at a very uncomfortable looking Rene. "Oh, I guess you didn't know. I suppose I really did overestimate your intelligence. However, either way, in spite of yourself evidently, you've managed to subvert some of our own people, who now need to be punished and put in their place. Bring them in."

At that point, the reasonable reaction for Maia would have been to scream or glare angrily at Rene demanding to know what he'd done--and if everything they'd shared was a sham--but he was doggedly avoiding Maia's eyes, staring at his feet and hands, looking despondent. Seeing Rene so obviously miserable and regretful made Maia wonder whether he'd had much choice in his acts, which made her feel some very small amount of compassion for the man. It was a very small amount. Maia was about start yelling at him, but, seeing who the climbing-guards were dragging forward shocked her into silence.

Suspended by the muscled forearms of two climbing-guards was SriSharma, who was barely stumbling forward with his bloodied head hanging low, while his shirt had been torn off and his swollen body was covered bruises. This was shocking and horrific enough, but Maia was surprised to see a second person being brought forward: a naked and heavily tanned woman, walking sullenly as she was being pushed forward. It was Liza and beside her was Rene's young boy, Tyler.

Seeing his wife and child, Rene neared a state of panic and cried out, "What is this? What are they doing here! This wasn't part of the deal! You promised that they were going to be safe! You can't do this! You can't..."

A cold glare from Harmony shut Rene up, a silence that was further reinforced by the posturings of two climbing-guards who pulled out their climbing-flails. Crossing her arms and lifting her nose slightly upwards, Harmony said, "That's right, Rene. The agreement was that if you kept the Messiah distracted, we would grant you full membership into the climbing sanga, and also extend the benefits to your ex-wife and child. However, that was also assuming you wouldn't betray our trust."

"But I didn't... I didn't do anything! This isn't right!" Rene said wildly, looking around him wildly, and meeting Maia's eyes he said, "Maia, it was for my child. I needed to protect him. I'm sorry that I... I know that you're angry..."

"Didn't do anything?" Harmony said arching her eyebrow. "Don't lie to us, Rene. Not doing anything would have been not doing anything at all... especially not getting a certain someone to warn Maia off and not be involved. Our plan was to have her interfere with SriSharma's punishment and have a proper scene as a result. But that didn't happen, did it? That definitely wasn't part of the deal. No, that act essentially made our agreement void."

"What? What are you talking about? I never did anything..." Rene said, desperately trying to defend himself.

"Shut up, Rene. You're wasting our time," Harmony snarled. "Mark, show him how we found out how he broke the arrangement."

"Certainly," Mark said pleasantly as he walked forward to the projector and transmitted some commands from his netset. "Sorry, this won't take a moment. The new surveillance equipment the estates gave us takes a little while to synch up with our network."

But, not a few seconds after Mark's grinning apology, the image of Redhead-Boy was replaced with an image of Maia walking up into the crowd at the Solstice Celebration, looking sullen, moody and uninterested in interacting. Then, however, right after the horns blew and the Directorate tromped onto stage, the image zoomed into her more closely, tracking her increasingly shocked expression as she watched SriSharma dragged onto stage. Maia could see how her body had bunched up, ready to run at the podium where SriSharma was being beaten - but then was turned away when Liza appeared before her. The image then adjusted to fit Maia and Liza as they moved backwards and away from the crowd - even as their entire conversation was piped through perfectly clearly, including the Liza's warning on behalf of Rene. Clearly, as part of their deal with the corporate estates, the Salt Spring Directorate had received shipment of the newest surveillance equipment that was installed everywhere -probably to ensure their people's loyalty. Looking over at Rene, she saw that his mouth was slack as he stared at the damning images.

"That wasn't 'nothing' was it?" Harmony said coolly, looking at Rene. Speaking loudly to everyone there, she said, "How should the Directorate judge on the matter of Liza Klugger in the case the agreement we had with Rene Lonmont? Should we revoke the protection we initially extended to his family?"

"He's a fucker and he's never been a good climber in any case," RajTwight snarled. "Protection revoked."

"A broken deal is a broken deal," Mark said with a slim frown.

"It's so tragic, so tragic, but we have to have harmony. It's such a harsh decision," MahaLindy sighed. "However, our community has no room for Rene and his family."

"They have no place in mine either," Stefan huffed, glaring at Liza whose head was bowed low, her dreaded hair hiding her face.

Harmony nodded gravely, saying, "That settles it then. Our community needs to be purified. Let's start with the woman. Stefan, she's your people. It's your task to deal with her."

"No! Please! Let her be! Don't hurt her! This is insane! Are you insane?" Rene screamed, but was held in his place by two climber-guards.

Stefan grunted, and waved for his people to descend on Liza and the child. Certainly, as Rene watched them drag his ex-wife into the woods, Maia was certain he would have screamed and yelled, but one of the climber-guards had clapped a hand over his mouth. The yelling would have been helpful though. As it were, Maia had only the sounds of the Solstice Celebration to mask the brutal hollering, wet thuds, and Liza's terrified, high-pitched shrilling that slowly petered into faint moans and finally only into the sounds of a woman being beaten to death by the bare hands and feet of a lunatic horde of barbarians. When Stefan and his people returned, their hands and feet were bloodied and caked with gore, while their faces bore a glowing, contented expression, as if they'd just had a satisfying meal. Much to Maia's relief though, in the back of the group, she caught sight of Tyler, still alive and walking with his hand in one of the ReWilder's, but with a confused look on his face.

"It's done. The woman is dead," Stefan announced. Pointing at Tyler, who Maia noted had streaks of red on his hands. "The child did well. He provided a good blow to the traitor."

"My god... Liza... I'm sorry... Not my son..." Rene whispered, dropping to his knees and threw his hands over his face.

"Are you people fucking crazy? Why did you kill her?" Maia screamed, as she watched Rene sob. "You're worse than the estates! You are disgusting!"

"Again, you presume to judge us without understanding our ways. We do what we must to keep the peace here. People must know that there are consequences to their actions," Harmony said, raising a warning finger. "Before we judge Rene, we still have the matter of SriSharma to attend to. Lucky for him, he still has chance for redemption even though he was about to betray us to you. Oh, yes. We recorded that too. Why do you think we really killed Aidan? SriSharma needed to know that his acts had consequences for everyone including family members aren't part of the climbing sanga. Ordinarily, SriSharma would have been eliminated him too, but given his loyal service we thought that a more just treatment would be to punish him publicly and see if he learned his lesson. Well, SriSharma? What do you have to say for yourself?"

At the sound of his name, SriSharma stirred and jerked his head upwards. His face was a horror to behold. His nose had been smashed in and reduced to a mess of bloody cartilage and skin drooping from his face. The entire right side of his face was puffy and swollen, while one eye was completely shut and the other was lidded and darkened. The poor man had been pummeled to a hair of his life, because he had gone so far as to see past the lies of the Directorate and then participate in bringing out the truth. For that, his soul and spirit was to be crushed, and, assuming he survived, Maia could easily imagine him be kept alive in the community and occasionally paraded around, so that he would be a visible warning for what happens if people dare defy the Directorate. If only Maia had known what he was trying to do. If only she could have acted faster to help him, to understand what he was trying to do, to get what was going on in this fucked up community, SriSharma wouldn't have had to suffer his fate.

Indeed, by all accounts, SriSharma had been broken and cowed. But, against all expectations, SriSharma slowly cracked open his unswollen eye, pointed it straight at Harmony and spat upon the ground, croaking defiantly in a rasping voice,

"Praise the Messiah... Long live the Liberation! Fuck you all. I hope you all burn."

"What? That mother fucker! After all we've done for him!" RajTwight swore raising his fist.

"Oh, how can you say that, SriSharma? We had such hopes for you," MahaLindy sniffled convincingly.

"It appears he's made his choice," Mark said neutrally.

"Let his body feed the Holy Earth Mother," Stefan intoned.

"Agreed," Harmony said. "Bring the holy rope."

Maia found her voice again, screaming as loud as she could, "Stop this! You can't do this! Stop! Anyone help! Stop!"

Harmony shook her head, ignoring Maia's pleas, as a climber-guard made a noose out of a length of rope and suspended it over a thick pine branch. SriSharma didn't struggle as the noose was secured over his head, while two climber-guards got into position to heave on the rope. Before they did so, they looked to Harmony, waiting for her signal, who in turn looked at Maia with smug, pompous contempt and said,

"By the unanimous decision of the Salt Spring Directorate, we condemn our former member SriSharma Johnson to be sent to Hanuman's Holy embrace. May he find forgiveness on the Infinite Crag. Proceed."

Maia shut her eyes, unable to watch the climber-guards yanked on the rope. But just as they were beginning their loud grunting pull, they were interrupted by the resounding peals of two shots suddenly cracking. Flinging her eyes open, Maia could see the two climber-guards sprawled on the ground, dazed and not understanding what was happening to them as they grabbed at the reddening patches on the chests.

A voice from the forest said,

"Actually, there won't be any more executions today by you or our twisted Directorate. Not if I can help it anyway."

Maia looked around and felt a surprising relief - especially considering that not too long ago she was vilifying her - when she recognizing the person who had spoken. It was Jamie. And she wasn't alone. With her was a full contingent of fully-armed militia, their rifles aimed at the Directorate and their fanatic followers.

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# Chapter 23

"Get back and step away. We won't hesitate to shoot again," Jamie ordered, pointing at the bodies of the dead climber-guards. Her warning however was unnecessary, as the climber-guards and the ReWilders had already stepped back, taking protective positions in front of the Directorate and leaving Maia and Rene unguarded. Clearly, they were less important than the island's spiritual leaders - a ranking which Maia might have quibbled about before, but in this case did not bother her at all.

"Holy fuck, Jamie. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm happy to see you," Maia said, taking her distance from the Salt Spring islanders and getting behind the militia's line. Without being asked or given the permission, Rene also followed, and though Maia felt conflicted about him, she didn't stop him, knowing that his prospects with the Directorate weren't that great and probably involved some form of public punishment. In any case, maybe now with Jamie and the Council militia some sense and order could come back to the island and her world. From what Maia could tell, the contingent that was accompanying Jamie was very equipped, complete with reactive plating and augmented helmet-feeds in addition to their heavy assault rifles. Though the group was small, they could handily manage the Directorate's minimally armed hooligans.

"Yeah? Not sure you should be happy to see me. I actually came in part to arrest you for your idiotic vidstream stunt that gave the entire Council a fucking migraine," Jamie gritted, as she stared down the Directorate and mouthed commands into her netset, coordinating the activities with another group of militia members. "But knowing you, your screwing us over wasn't intentional and was the result of your cluelessness. Just be happy your stupidity is nothing in comparison to the crimes these people have committed. The Salt Spring Directorate has acted not only in contravention with the established constitution of the Liberation, but have conspired to bring back a system of oppression and inequity that we fought to free ourselves from. Oh, and by the way Maia, consider your Messiah status revoked."

Maia, now the former Messiah of the Revolution #3409, wasn't remotely upset at her status change, but felt defensive about her acts, which, though weren't by any means perfect, were still in keeping with her mission and what she'd known. With equal measures of dismissiveness and defensiveness, Maia threw back at Jamie,

"Fine. Whatever. You can strip me of my title if you want, but I was only doing my job. I revealed critical information that could affect everyone. "

"Shit, Maia. Your job? You should have gone through the Council first with that information!"

"I had a reason to put it out that way! It had to be live so I could get Harmony to talk! It's a pressuring tactic!"

"You wouldn't know a fucking pressuring tactic if it pressured your ass. You should have reported to me first!"

"About what? About the contracts that the Council made with the estates? Buying seeds from the corporate estates? How could you and the Council do that? The people have a right to know!"

"Oh, for fuck's... Damn it, Maia!" Jamie cursed. "Have you ever tried governing? Making decisions? I don't have time for this! A fucking entire community is turning against the Council and I'm dealing with you?"

Harmony's voice broken in then, confident and combative in spite of the weapons leveled at her and the Directorate: "But that's the question isn't it, Jamie? How can the Council dare to condemn us for working with the corporate estates, when they themselves are doing so? How is that fair? Isn't your broken, corrupted pot as black as our kettle?"

A tense and volatile stillness snared everyone's attention, as Jamie and Harmony, leaders of their respective groups, faced off. With the feud with Maia forgotten, Jamie slowly crossed her arms and frowned, saying, "Clever, Harmony. Oh, so clever. Is this your whole play? Is this it? Threaten the Council's reputation, and then use that to justify your 'new utopian order'?"

"So you do admit to it then? You admit to being a hypocrite? To having made deals with the corporate estate owners?" Harmony said with a triumphant smirk on her face.

"Yes, I admit it. Happy? We bought seeds from the estates, there you go. And yes, I know you're filming this, and no, you're not broadcasting this anywhere, no matter what you think, and no matter what fancy gizmos that fucker there has given you," Jamie snarled, pointing at Redhead-Boy, whose projected image had been watching the exchange with interest. "The Council is revoking your Directorate's authority tonight. You and your goons will be tried and jailed for your crimes, of which the murder of my brother will be a small part of it."

Harmony sniffed at Jamie's condemnation, "I wouldn't be so sure of yourself, Jamie. Now that the people know about the Council's crimes, do you think they'll let you keep your power? Do you think they won't realize you were lying?"

Addressing now the Council militia, Harmony said loudly, as she, the Directorate and the climbing and ReWilder guards extended their arms beckoningly to them, "Is this the boss you want to work for? A liar? A hypocrite? There's room with us. We live a pure, happy life here. We treat our own fairly and richly, and I can guarantee that if you help us, you will have an automatic full membership with the climbing sanga with full benefits."

For a moment, Maia worried that perhaps the militia may turn their backs on the Council, knowing how tempting the offer was. Jamie, however, laughed, as the militia grinned and chuckled amongst themselves - which caused Harmony to frown, which in turn made Jamie laugh harder until she said,

"Harmony. Seriously? Do you think people are that stupid that they can't see through your pathetic game? We fought our way out of it, remember? Do you think we don't see the signs? You're not fooling anyone." Jamie lips twisted contemptuously as Harmony's expression became flinty. "Idyllic climbing community living peacefully with nature and your monkey god? Living bucolically like innocent settlers? Don't make me laugh. Everyone knows that you're just another little bully enforcing an exploitative system, where you make the majority fight for the privilege of being the 'chosen ones.' It's been done before, Harmony, really it has, and with much better systems and much subtler systems than you have. Thought you were good, huh? Nah. You're just a run-of-the-mill demagogue with more hot air than actual threat."

Holding back the people around her who seemed ready to jump to her defense, Harmony responded through clenched teeth, knowing that it was important to prove herself against Jamie in order to maintain her authority: "Your accusations show how ignorant you are of our ways. We are a peaceful happy community much better than whatever your Council has produced." Trying again to tempt the militia, Harmony addressed them again. "What have they done for you lately? Can they feed you? Can they give you a home? We here on the island know very well about the food scarcity in Vancouver and also the housing crisis. We have none of that here. Everyone can eat to their heart's content and no one ever is wanting for a roof over their heads. Our ways are better. Join us and you'll see how..."

"You're wasting your breath, Harmony," Jamie smirked again. "We know how your system works: for you and your followers to live in the luxury you have, you need to have ten times as many people living in shit. I know where your food comes from. It didn't take long for the Council analysts to interpret the numbers. Your food comes from places where the farmers are kept in destitution. Who do you think these militia are? Do you think they don't know? Do you think they're just the typical wide-eyed wannabe city-slicker hippies? Take Rebecca and Khalil here," Jamie pointed at two of the militia who nodded their heads in response. "They're former field workers who've been on the other side of your magical fantastical world. They know what it takes to produce the amount of food to feed people. So yes, they also know how much effort it takes to grow this food and the fields we need to till for it. The bulk of your followers may be ignorant, but we know your little collection of cutesy farms is just for show." Jamie frowned as she admitted with a scowl: "That's why we need the estates' seed to grow for now. It's not like we want to, but we have to. Soon, we'll have fields to grow seed of our own and we'll be independent. Why don't we tell people in Vancouver? Simple: because they're city people. They don't get where food comes from. We're planning on phasing it in, but what with the estates attacks and conniving we've been distracted. Farmers on the other hand get it. They staff all our militia - basically they're where the real work happens. In fact, it's your own farmers who warned us about you. Turns out they weren't happy when you decided to kill one of their own."

"Oh, dear," MahaLindy said from beside Harmony, as she sighed sadly. "They just don't understand why it had to be done. It's so sad that they don't understand our ways. Perhaps it would be the most compassionate thing if they also be cleansed, as RajTwight has suggested."

"Fucking told you those farmers were more trouble than they were worth," RajTwight grumbled. "I knew they never could be trusted, but Mark wanted his precious farmer's market going for his fucking wife."

"They were fucking heathen desecrater, destroying the sacred Holy Earth Mother's body and raping her precious resources. They have no place on this island," Stefan growled, agreeing with RajTwight, probably in spite of himself.

"Now, wait a minute," Mark said with conciliatory look that conveyed a simultaneous smile and frown. "We all voted on it, and we agreed that the farmer's market was also supplying us with a steady supply of local produce. Not only that, it was a good pacifying mechanism to let out steam from the locals. Good optics too."

"That is true, Mark. The Directorate did agree with the policy," Harmony nodded, but then pointing a thumb back at Redhead-Boy's projection. "But now, we have no need of them anymore since our food supply is now secured with our new partners, and we can finally purify the island."

Jamie cleared her throat loudly at Harmony's claim. "Actually, that's probably not going to happen. I don't know if you noticed that we're here now and we're more aware of the situation than you think. Contrary to what you may be thinking, our real reason to come wasn't to arrest your group for crimes against the people... not burst your bubble of fucking self-importance or anything. Our primary reason to be here is to stop that bastard's invasion and his oil tanker." Jamie addressed Redhead Boy. "If I were you, I'd stop tanker immediately, and I'd also get away as soon as I can."

"Why the fuck would I do that? You and your gang can't do anything against me," Redhead Boy crowed. "I have three ships filled with my troops about to land on the island. They'll take control of this situation very quickly. What do you have? Half a unit? Pathetic."

"Do you think I only came with this group? Remember, the farmers warned us, and we came prepared. Five full militia platoons are here," Jamie said, standing proudly. "By the way, the Straight is mined, you fucker. If that tanker goes any further, it will sink and you will lose your entire shipment, and what will the Chinese do then? Yeah, we see them too, and we know that they're waiting to see if your operation will succeed before they do anything. Once it fails, we know you'll be on your goddamned own. Plus, we know you're hanging around there too. True, we don't know where you are since fucking weak-ass coward that you are, you're hiding in your stealthship. But we figured you'd do something like that so laid down mines, so if you do get any nearer than you are now, you'll be blown to bits."

"What? That's fucking impossible! Check on this! Find me those mines! See what's going on! Stop those tankers! We can't..." Redhead-Boy screamed at people on his end, before being cut off.

"Thanks for cutting him off, Khalil," Jamie said to the militia beside her, who had been holding the signal disruptor. "I was getting tired of him. Are we all clear?"

"Yes, Jamie, we're safe to talk now," Khalil replied.

"Good! Now where were we?" Jamie asked, the Directorate, who at this time had gone into a veritable tizzy of activity, as their assumptions about their situation had been shaken.

Not surprisingly, the infighting recriminations began in earnest, with Stefan accusing Mark of having betrayed them with his estate friends; which lead to Elaine angrily telling him, the barbarian philistine that he should back off; which lead to RajTwight crowing and laughing, about how a former estate bitch could speak about who should expect what from whom; which lead to Mark being furious and defensive at both RajTwight and Stefan; which lead to MahaLindy meekly trying to interpose her frail body between the yellers trying to calm them down; while during the entire time of the bickering Harmony was frowning and fiddling with the projector, trying to restore the connection with Redhead Boy.

Stepping closer Jamie, Maia asked in a low voice, "Are you sure you can control this situation? They're nuts and their people are fanatics. I really hope that our militia can handle them."

"I have no idea, Maia, but I hope they can too," Jamie replied quietly, warily studying the arguing. Maia noticed then that Jamie's hands had been tightly clenched and a thin muscle at the side of her jaw was throbbing. "Just bear in mind that this situation can get out of control very quickly, so stay close and try very hard not to do anything stupid. We can only hope that these guys aren't organized enough to provide resistance."

As if to disprove Jamie's hopes, Harmony's voice broke through the squabbling of the Directorate.

"Quiet! Everyone be quiet! We're still in control! We still have the island! Even if we've lost connection with the estates, we still control of this island. We can kick the Council off this island and wait until the estates come back with reinforcements. We will make this into our ideal community! RajTwight, did you cache those weapons from the Liberation?" RajTwight nodded with a smile. "Then send your people to collect the weapons from wherever you hid them. I need you to..."

But before she could continue, Stefan interrupted with an angry cry, "WHAT? We still have those weapons? Didn't we agree to get rid of all weapons of war? They are a travesty against the Holy Earth Mother!"

"Oh, here we fucking go again and his fucking Holy Earth Mother, bullshit," RajTwight groaned.

"Don't you blaspheme! The Holy Earth Mother is the mother of Hanuman! Don't you think I won't shit on you again and put you in your place," Stefan roared, taking a step closer to RajTwight, who instantly reddened and tensed angrily. "Don't you defy the Holy Earth Mother! This is fucking unacceptable! You fucking kept fucking weapons of war here?! You are a criminal!"

"I'm the protector of the island! Designated by Hanuman!" RajTwight screamed back, also taking a step forward, putting him within arm's length of Stefan. Meanwhile the ReWilders and the climber-guards had migrated and were hovering around their leaders, reflecting their leaders' animosity.

"You are nothing! You are a liar! You kept those weapons even though we agreed not to!"

"You idiot! We need them! We're not going to throw away perfectly fine weapons!"

"We use our bodies that the Holy Earth Mother gave us! That's all I used during the Liberation!"

"And you almost got killed! I know your fucking story. If we didn't have snipers protecting you, you would be dead! Fucking lunatic!"

"I was protected by the Holy Earth Mother! She will protect us now! You are the traitor!"

"Traitor? You fucking fool! I was ordered to hide the arms by Harmony!"

"WHAT?!!!? Is this true, Harmony?"

Harmony grimaced, as she met Stefan's accusing glare. "It is, Stefan. We need those weapons. It was a back-up plan to protect our interests... and the interests of the Holy Earth Mother."

"BULLSHIT!" Stefan screamed into the air. "You LIED to me! I knew I should never have allied myself to you and your fucking Hanuman. I should never have agreed to dilute the belief of the Holy Earth Mother to include Hanuman! I should never compromised! It's false! It's not true! Hanuman is no god!" (to which RajTwight immediately said with self-righteous triumph, "Aha! I knew it!", but no one listened) "For all these years, I accepted and watched as you and your climbing community destroyed our lands, believing your words that we would be bringing the ReWilding back to the island. Even when I saw that the farms were being allowed to expand, I tolerated it, giving you a chance to explain it, while you gave us only token pieces of land to reclaim. I should have known that you never gave a care to the Holy Earth Mother! You always planned to kick us out! Even when you disposed of John's body, you could have chosen to put it anywhere, but you decided to drop it in our sacred lands of the ReWilding, so that you could come in a desecrate it! Don't think I don't know! I know how RajTwight thinks!" (RajTwight only gave a lopsided grin.) "But no more! No more! This island is ours! We will fight for it! Come my fellow ReWilders! We will have no more to do with these heathens! We will reclaim our land!"

For a moment, it seemed like Stefan was about to leap on RajTwight, but probably judging that he and his ReWilders currently didn't have the numbers to succeed in the fight, he instead bared his teeth and growled at RajTwight and the rest of the Directorate, while the climber-guards responded with their own defiant looks and threatening swings of their flails. Then, Stefan and his ReWilders howled into the air, and turned around, flashing their browned buttocks, as they stomped away.

A pained, desperate cry tried to stop them: "Stop! Please! Leave my son with me!" Rene pleaded from beside Maia, about to run towards the ReWilders, but was held back by the militia; Maia had no doubt that he'd suffer the fate of his ex-wife if he got into their hands. "Please! Leave Tyler with me! He shouldn't be involved in this! He's just an innocent boy!"

"Yes, he is. He's perfectly innocent," Stefan grinned ferally. "So innocent that he helped murder his own mother. He's not yours anymore. He's bound by blood to us."

"No! No, he's not! You forced him to! He doesn't understand! You have to let him go!" Rene wailed desperately. Then making eye contact with Tyler, he squatted onto his haunches and cried out as he beckoned to his son with his hands, "Tyler, it's ok. Come back to daddy. It's okay. Just leave them. Please. I can take care of you. Come on back to daddy."

Tyler looked at Rene with bewildered eyes, not knowing what to do in the face of all these adults who had begun to act so strangely. In his confusion, the boy reached his hand to the closest person around him, and with his other, scratched his face, leaving bloody mark over his cheek. The person Tyler happened to be beside was Stefan, who, holding the boy's hand, sneered at Rene,

"The same daddy who abandoned him and his mother to join another community? The same daddy who he barely sees because he's busy trying to go up the ranks of a corrupted society? No, he's not going with you, Rene. He's ours now. Come on! Let's go and leave these assholes. We have an island to reclaim!"

And with that, Stefan and his ReWilders disappeared into the woods, leaving Rene bewildered and broken, as he collapsed onto his knees and sobbed into his hands. The tension, however, didn't end with the sudden disappearance of the ReWilders and the slow dissipation of unwashed human body odors. Remaining facing each other were the Directorate and their climber-guards standing against Jamie and her militia. Though the Council militia was outnumbered three to one, they still had the upper hand with their assault weapons, leaving no doubt who would win a confrontation.

Knowing she controlled the situation with her superior firepower, Jamie declared: "Harmony, by the authority of the Council, I order you to give yourself up and all the members of the Directorate. You are charged with murder and crimes against the People. You will face justice."

"Pffff!!! What fucking authority of the Council?" RajTwight mocked, behind the line climber-guards who'd closed up in front of him. "You're nothing to us."

"You should know that this action is illegal and we represent the legitimate authority of the people of Salt Spring Island," Mark said warningly. "I am recording this incident right now and you will see how the other communities will react to your overreach."

"May Hanuman give us strength in our coming battle!" MahaLindy wailed lifting her hands in the air. "We are faced with heathens!"

Harmony, whose composure had wilted after Stefan's departure, now regained its solidness as she said to Jamie, "We will stand against you and the Council. We have no doubt that we are in the right. We hold the true light of Hanuman! Praise Hanuman! Praise the Infinite Crag! We will have victory over our enemies!"

"Praise Hanuman! Praise the Infinite Crag! Mahacore! Mahacore! Mahacore!" the climber-guards screamed maniacally.

"That's all fine and dandy, but remember who has the guns pointed at who," Jamie growled, once the climbing devotees quieted. "I want you to give yourselves peacefully or else..."

Harmony completely ignored Jamie, screaming instead, "My fellow followers of Hanuman! Protect the Directorate! We must flee to rally our people! Stop them! Your lives will be blessed by Hanuman and ascend to the Infinite Crag! To victory! To victory! Praise Hanuman!"

"Wait! Stop! Don't do this!" Jamie screamed, holding out her hands.

But the fanatics heard only the encouraging cries and empty promises of their leaders, goading them own to hurl themselves at the Council militia, wave their flails in the air and beat their chests, all too prepared to needlessly die for whatever imagined blessing or seat in the skies that they'd been coached on. Inevitably, appeals to reason and calm merely bouncing off the frenzied climbers. And equally inevitable, sprays of rifle fire rang out, causing Maia to drag Rene to take cover.

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# Chapter 24

The battle didn't last long. Not that anyone was expecting it to, considering the climber-guards were bringing makeshift hand weapons to a gun fight. It was, however, amidst the rain of bullets and the bursting of flesh and crunching of bone, enough time for the Directorate to flee, especially as the climber-guards were a remarkably tenacious bunch, unwilling to stop fighting even after they'd received shots in their legs - which was where the militia had been aiming, in the hope that they would get the idea to slow down. But, much to everyone's dismay, even with two or sometimes three shots in their arms and legs, the climber-guards continued to scream and lurch forward, throwing themselves at the militia, until they were forced to kill the fanatics or, whenever possible, knock them out.

In the end, when the shooting stopped, Maia opened her eyes to the grisly sight of over two dozen bloodied and inert bodies haphazardly piled in front of them. A few of the militia were checking the bodies, isolating the survivors and dragging the dead ones into a pile for later identification. The rest had spread out, securing the area and trying to catch sight of Harmony and the Directorate. Maia knew that they wouldn't find anything, as RajTwight and Harmony were familiar with the region and would have taken the quickest route out of there.

"Fucking hell, Jamie. Is this what we're facing? A bunch of brainwashed nutters willing to do anything?" Khalil grumbled, as he nudged the body of one of the climber-guards.

"Looks like it," Jamie replied, shaking her head. "If Harmony was able to get them throw themselves in the line of fire, then my guess is that the rest of her people would be willing to do the same. I have no idea what Stefan and his nudists are planning on doing, but I'd guess that they'll also be dangerous and unpredictable."

"And they'll be bringing their stores of weapons too?" Khalil groaned, slapping his forehead. "We definitely didn't bring enough personnel for this. We can't take them alone."

Dazed and more than just a little uncertain of her chances of survival, Maia's attention perked at the last comment. Hoping that things were a lot better than what she was hearing, Maia demanded, "Didn't you say that you had 'five full militia platoons? Isn't that enough? Didn't you say that we have the situation is under control?"

Jamie heaved a big sigh, as she shrugged at Khalil flashing him a this-is-what-I-have-to-deal-with eye-roll. Giving Maia an infuriating, overly controlled, patient look, she said, "I was bluffing, Maia. We did come in two ships, but this contingent is all we have on the island. The other ship I came with was dispatched to stop the oil tanker, but I haven't heard from them since they engaged them. There's no one else, nor are there any mines that have been set. It was all to keep them off balance, and I don't know how long it will last."

Maia stood, her mouth agape.

"Fuck, Maia. Close your mouth. You like you've had an aneurism. It's shitty situation, I know, and one that you contributed to fucking up too by the fucking way," Jamie pointed out, as she set her jaw. "But we're not alone in this. The farmers and the rest of the non-climbing cult community is rallying. With enough luck we'll get out of this situation without destroying the Liberation."

Again, Maia blinked, unable and unwilling to absorb how bad the situation was. As she watched Jamie confer with Khalil and Rebecca, she caught vaguely comprehensible words like "hard points" and "crucial strongholds" and "unholdable" and "vital" and "not a fucking chance hell"... none of which made her feel any better. If the corporate estates were really in a position to take Salt Spring, then it was possible that they might be able to establish a foothold strong enough that they could launch an attack on Vancouver - especially if they reopened trade with the Chinese, which would expand their capacities immensely. And against the imminent onslaught, Jamie had only a small contingent of about a dozen or so militia, as well as their "allies" with the farmers and non-climbers who Jamie described as:

"...fucking civilians who will be fucking useless!" Jamie swore, pounding her fist. "They'll bloody break as soon as Harmony attacks them. They don't even have any weapons! Just a whole bunch of hoes and who the fuck knows what they'll scrounge up. Fuck! On top of that, we have no idea where the estate troops are planning to come in from. There are two working harbors they can potentially dock at. Hell, they may even send people to both! We're fucking screwed! Goddamn it!"

A faint croaking voice could be heard trying to say something, but it came out as garbled rasping, barely audible with Jamie's loud discussion. A militia member noticed though, and crouched over SriSharma's bandaged form to say,

"Hey, this guy's trying to say something. I can't believe he's still even conscious. Speak through my netset, buddy. I'll amplify your voice."

"...Ganges..." SriSharma said through the militia's netset. "They're going to land in Ganges. That's... That's where the shipments come. The ReWilders will be heading there too to get control of the harbor and the equipment..."

"Ganges? Are you sure?" Khalil asked, leaning forward, straining to hear SriSharma in spite of the netset augment.

"Y-yes... yes... They dock at Ganges to resupply the climbing sanga... That's where they get their food and equipment..." SriSharma wheezed, his words coming out as a barely discernible gurgle. "I was the one directing the unloading... I know they're headed there... Ganges... It's the only harbor that they can dock at with their ships. That's where they're going..."

Jamie and Khalil looked at each other, wordlessly conferring with each other as they considered SriSharma's claim. With a nod from Khalil that seemed to convince Jamie, she smacked her thigh and said,

"Ganges! That will work. Our ship is in Fulford. We can defend that harbor and focus on Ganges. Who's at Fulford right now? Robin? Ok, fine. Signal him to set the mines in there so that if they do come from both harbors, they at least won't get in from there. Meanwhile, we'll head to Ganges and head those freakers off there. Where are the farmers now? Do you have them on the line? Can we coordinate with them?"

Khalil, connecting with his netset which had a long-range dongle attached to it, said, "Yes, we're in touch with them. Do you want me to tell them to meet us somewhere?"

"Yes, tell them to assemble by... Let's see here..." Jamie said, as she consulted the topographical layout on her netset and signaled the others to start getting a move on. "Let's have them meet us on the hill overlooking the harbor. We'll meet them there, and set up a few sniper points. That'll be mostly what we can do. They'll have to do most of the heavy lifting, which they claim they're rip-raring to do."

"What about these folk?" Khalil asked, pointing at SriSharma, Maia and Rene. "The guy who got the shit kicked out of him is stable now, but what about those two? I can't spare anyone to watch them."

"They're fine. Leave them here to watch over the beaten up guy," Jamie said with a sigh, pausing to give Maia and Rene appraising glances. "Ok, let's start planning this thing."

A guilty pang of relief hit Maia, knowing that she wouldn't be involved in the fight for the island. She'd been in battles before, and they were invariably unpleasant and filled with far too much brutality that she could neither stomach nor dole out. She wasn't terribly proud of her non-warrior-(ex)-Messiahness, but then again she justified in her mind that she would be more of a hindrance than help in the battle, and also given her previous training as a nurse, she could always tend to SriSharma, in the safety of the woods.

However, Rene didn't feel the same, which was understandable, considering he didn't have only himself to think of. It still made Maia wince as Rene begged,

"Take me with you, please! I need to go! I need to get my son! You don't understand the ReWilders. They believe that all people must go through a trial by fire to be selected. They're going to put him and their children into the fight; it's what they call the fucking natural order of things. Tyler is a child! He'll die! Please! Let me come with you! I have to save my son!"

In response, Jamie looked over to Khalil and the other militia, who shook their heads, knowing that it wouldn't be a good idea, but still shrugged non-commitally, giving her the last call. To Jamie's credit, she had a sympathetic look as she said to Rene, "Ok, we can take you, but we don't have any bodyarmor to spare. You'll have to go as you are. Khalil, give him your sidearm."

"Uh... I... I don't know how to use a gun," Rene mumbled with embarrassment.

"You don't?" Jamie said, surprised.

"I've never been trained on it. I never had the need," Rene explained. "I'm a cook. I'm not a violent person. I just want to live without any problems with my son..."

"Okay, okay. I got it. You're cooker, not a fighter. I got it," Jamie minced impatiently. "Listen, unless you can fight, we can't take you. I also can't afford to have any of us to watch over you and escort you. We'll do our best to save your son, ok? Just stay here and wait for us to come back."

"I can take him," Maia announced, instantly regretting saying anything; but having seen the tragedy of Rene's ex-wife being beaten to death and his son taken away from him, she wasn't able to sit by and let it happen without doing anything. "I've been trained to use that gun. A Glock-42b, right? We covered it during Messiah training. I'll take him down and get his son out. We won't be in the way."

"Okaaaaay..." Jamie said, not completely convinced it was a good idea, but seeing Rene's hopeful puppydog look probably swayed her, as she motioned an equally skeptical Khalil to give Maia his sidearm. "Fine. We're heading out right now. I'm getting word that the farmers are coming into position. Just stay out of the fucking way, okay?"

"Got it. Just give me that thing," Maia grumbled, grabbing the gun from Khalil and making sure it was loaded; her irritability had more to do with the fact that she was currently doing the rather unwise thing of throwing herself into a conflict, rather than away from it.

A thankful Rene meekly tried to reach out for her, but Maia shied away, trying to remind herself of everything she needed to use the damn gun--which she hadn't actually fired since the training almost four years ago. Rene bashfully put his hands behind his back and still tried to thank her:

"Thank you, Maia. I really appreciate it this. My son... I haven't been the best father, but I did what I did to protect them," Rene said hesitantly, rightly guessing that Maia was still pissed off at the revelation that he had been "assigned to distract her. "I know you don't believe me, but I really do care for you too. I wanted to be with you... and I tried my best to give you the information you needed... I tried to tell you what I could... I'm sorry about what I did, and I hope you can trust me in the future..."

Not in the mood for either groveling or forgiving, Maia growled, "Rene, I'm holding a gun, so it's not a good time to talk to me right now. I don't care what you feel at this point in time, and I'm not interested in your excuses or explanations. I'm doing this because of your son." Maia cocked the gun and chambered a bullet. "Besides, this may not the best idea for you either. It's been a long time since I used a gun. I wouldn't be surprised if accidentally shot off my foot. Or, who knows? I may end up shooting you, if you keep talking. Let's get this over with, ok? I want to get off this fucking shit-show island as soon as I can."

Wisely, Rene backed off, and took a step back, looking terribly uncomfortable and out of place. Although Maia wanted to deny it, she did feel bad for the guy - even though he was a bastard for having done what he did. Now having seen what life - actual life, not the sham Harmony and the Directorate had been at pains to project - was like on Salt Spring, she had to admit she did understand the reasons why Rene did what he did. Perhaps, she could forgive him one day, and perhaps one day they could start again, not to mention the intimacy that they'd shared - but certainly not now, when she was about to face not only a rabid horde of climbing fanatics, but a group barbarians and estate troopers, while on her side were only a handful of militia and a bunch of untrained civilians. With odds like those, it wasn't the time to think very far into the future.

Fortunately, there wasn't much time to for much thought or conversation, as Khalil soon had everyone head back to the transports they'd left at the trailhead and, shortly after a panting run, they piled into the vans and trucks and rumbled down to Ganges to meet the farmers. While short, the drive was extremely tense, with the militia crouched low with their rifles aimed outside, as they had no idea whether the climbing guards would have had the time set up an ambush. It turned out their caution was unwarranted, as they traveled without any issues, arriving within ten minutes at the location that Jamie and the farmers had arranged on near the outskirts of Ganges.

As they neared the meeting point, Khalil was forced to stop the car beside the road, as a large group people, illuminated by various types of LED headlamps and flashlights, had assembled there amidst their own collection of random beater vehicles. Maia recognized some of the farmers that she'd seen at Aidan's farm and at the farmers' market, but she also saw many others from the non-climbing island community standing around expectantly. They were all somewhat armed, some bearing hoes and other farming tools, as Jamie had guessed, but many also had rudimentary clubs or a full complement of kitchen knives and gardening tools; it was quite a primitive array of weaponry taken from regular household items that, in another life and world, were meant for innocent amblings of a long-forgotten middle-class life.

The crowd was standing around uncertainly, clearly waiting for direction, as violence was something they were not accustomed to; however, pushed as they were far beyond their limits, their frustration with Harmony's rule left them no choice but to fight back. As soon as they saw Jamie and the Council militia approach, their animated conversation reflected their anger and nervousness:

"There! I told you the Council would come! Didn't I tell you?"

"About time they came. Why didn't they come before? Why did they let it go so bad?"

"Will they do anything? Harmony knows what she's doing and she won't go down without a fight."

"And doesn't she have estate troops coming? That's what I heard! A ship full of them!"

"Holy shit! We're fucking fucked! There's no way we can win against them!"

"We need to get away from here! They're invading! They're coming! We're going to die!"

"Ohmygodomygodohmygod... why am I here? I should have stayed home, put my head down..."

"Everyone, please! Calm down! The Council is here! I am Jamie Ellis, and my team and I have everything under control," Jamie yelled out, blatantly lying as Maia knew, but she didn't blame her, as the people's nerves needed some serious settling. "Everything will be fine. We have Fulford harbor protected, so we're covered. No one will attack us from there. We have a team taking care of the enemy ship in the Straight who have confirmation that they're about to take control of the oil tanker. All we have to do is take control of Ganges and we'll be able to stop them and control the island again. Now, which one of you has been organizing your efforts?"

"That would be me," a woman said, raising her hand, with an ancient shotgun cradled in her arm. She was one of the few among the group who actually had real weapons. "My name is Sophie."

"Alright, Sophie," Jamie said with a welcoming smile, beckoning her over. "This is Khalil, the tactical officer of our operation. How about you tell us what the situation is right now? Have you seen the climber-guards? Have you seen the ReWilders?"

Sophie nodded gravely, walking slowly up to Jamie and Khalil, "We saw the climber-guards come down about twenty minutes ago, armed with assault rifles. They're at the bottom of the hill now, setting up barricades and guarding the entrance to Ganges, probably waiting for the estate ship to come in. As for the ReWilders, we haven't seen them. Not sure what their plans are and I don't care. All I hope is for them and their stench to disappear off this island."

Maia was slightly surprised at Sophie's animosity, though it was probably due to the fact that Stefan and his ReWilders' goals were diametrically opposed to the farmers, where one believed that cultivation of the land was raping a deity, while the latter believed it was their livelihood. As Maia listened to the conversation, she noticed Rene hanging around in the background, anxiously looking around, waiting for something to happen. Much like him, Maia was also on edge, though she didn't have the added worry about losing her child. Grudgingly, she walked to him, held his shoulder, and said,

"Hey, Rene, it'll be ok. We've got lots of people here. We'll get things back to normal."

"Normal? Normal?!" Rene choked, his eyes red and pained, furiously shaking his head. "I don't want it to go back to normal, Maia. Normal was fucking horrible. I've had enough of this!" Then, calming himself down with a deep breath, he apologized, "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you... I don't know what good this will do. You have no idea how determined Harmony can be, and her people are completely devoted to her. Harmony is one thing but with Stefan on the loose and coming into confrontation with her... I have no idea what will happen. It'll be a mess. And my son... Tyler... I tried so hard to keep Tyler safe and this is what it comes to? Oh, Tyler, damn, I'm sorry. I don't know what to do... I just don't know..."

The only words that came to mind for Maia sounded hollow even to her, so instead, she pulled Rene in and hugged him. As soon as he was in her embrace, Rene immediately released the tears that he'd been trying to keep in. Maia held him close, her own tears welling up, while also enjoying the warmth of human touch in the midst of psychotic lunacy that had become Salt Spring Island. Their brief respite was interrupted by Jamie calling out to everyone,

"Listen up everyone! I know you're nervous. I know you're wondering what's going to happen. I know you're worried about whether we'll be able to beat the estates. But let me tell you this: we're all here for one thing: to ensure that the Liberation continues!" Jamie cried out, doing her best let's-inspire-the-troops impression. "So long as we keep the goals and ideals of the Liberation in mind, I swear to you, we will beat the estates. I remember in the early days of the Liberation when I saw incredible sights of old men, pregnant women and even children take to battle. With our passion, with our dedication, and with our united spirit, we will beat them!"

A cheer, one that Maia thought was a little half-hearted, came up. Not exactly the most encouraging reaction, but at least no one left as they realized what they were about to do. Jamie put her hands on her hips and got down to business, "We have to get past the barricades that the climber-guards have set up. We've scouted them out, and they're not that impressive. Just a couple of concrete blocks and pylons. Clearly they're not expecting us! Sophie, Khalil and I have come up with a plan to get past them. It's a little risky but it will work with the right amount of momentum. The farmers here have been kind up to bring their fuel with them and with it we'll be able to make a few basic barrel bombs..."

The plan was terrible. Lacking any kind of real assault weapons, like sentinel drones or cluster launchers, they decided to improvise bombs out of the farmer's gasoline and diesel that they'd trucked over. The "bombs" they'd assembled, the barrel bombs, were simple, brutal affairs: they were essentially large metal drums, filled with a brew of fuel and stuffed with whatever kind of nails, bolts, and shrapnel they could find. When ignited, they would be horrific, acting both as a large grenade and incendiary that spread devastating, indiscriminate destruction; indeed, barrel bombs were so effective in causing terror and damage that, historically, they were used on civilian areas--leading them to be banned by many international conventions. Of course, as a result of the Liberation, many of those conventions that were intended to bring "decency" to wartime practices were completely ignored or even outright laughed at, as neither side saw any point in adding civility to a fight that threatened both parties' existences.

For good measure, the six barrel bombs that Jamie, Khalil and the farmers had hastily assembled were not only filled with as many rusty nails and broken implements they could find, but also included a grenade that they could detonate remotely. The idea was that the barrel bombs would roll down the hill, slam into the climbing-guards' barricade, and in the ensuing fire and destruction, Jamie and the farmers would ram through in the vehicles in a hail of fire and bullets that they could then ride in and take over the harbor. This was their "simple" plan. Despite Jamie's confidence and everyone's willingness to participate in the bonkers plan, Maia wasn't convinced it was simple or good, not to mention the wisdom of her being part of it. Yet there she was standing around, ready to get in to her own vehicle--because, as much as she would like to, it was too late for her to back out and not look like a coward.

"This is it, people! Load into your vehicles," Jaime yelled out. "We'll be rolling the barrels down in two minutes. My team and I will be the first one through since our vehicles are the most armored. Come straight behind us and be ready to ram through! Long live the Liberation!"

Again, a fairly weak cheer rejoined her, but nevertheless everyone loaded in to their vehicles. Waving over Rene, Maia got into one of the cars at the end of the line, under the assumption that the Jamie's and the vehicles at the front would bear most of the brunt of the attack. As soon as they took their seats, any hopes that they could calmly settle in and build up the attack was dashed by six loud explosions ringing out. Before Maia and Rene could settle in to their seats, say a prayer, calm down, anything, really, the truck they were in lurched forward, all too prepared to go to battle. With her hand holding the pistol, she grabbed Rene's clammy hand, and she closed her eyes.

In a brutal blink of squealing metal, noxious smoke and cursing screams, seconds after Maia and Rene's truck followed the others through the barricades, they came to a halt amidst furious, ceaseless gunfire. It seemed as good a time as any to open her eyes. It wasn't. All around the vehicle, cluttered among the other cars that had broken through were a mess of flame and burning bodies, some of whom were still howling and writhing in pain. One woman was still screaming and running aimlessly around in circles as oily flames lapped at her hair and clothes; Maia was relieved when someone had the decency to shoot her. The barrel bombs had had their intended devastating effect.

Shots sprayed in their direction, ricocheting off the truck and causing Maia to pull Rene down to duck away. Their driver, who was still trying to angle the truck into a better position wasn't so quick and his brain and skull ended up splattered amidst the others. After their initial shock, the climber-guards, obviously also well-armed, were getting their shit together and were taking a stand of their own. Grabbing Rene, Maia kicked out of the truck, and motioned him to stay low.

"With any luck, they won't see us, and we can go look for Tyler," Maia screamed into the din of battle.

Rene, looking numb, screamed back, "The ReWilders aren't here yet. They'll want to get control of the harbor too..."

Right on cue and very likely taking advantage of the broken barricades, wild, piercing howling erupted from the forests, signaling the ReWilder attack from the other side of the Ganges. bearing a panoply of cave-man weapons from clubs and rocks, but more often had only their nails and teeth - as the Holy Earth Mother intended it, the horde of naked, hirsute berserkers came rumbling into to town, meeting with a great crash the other battling antagonists. In a way, this was good because the new arrivals meant the climber-guards were being attacked on two sides; but not great in another way, as the ReWilders were fighting only for themselves, so that when they ended up making their way to the farmers and the militia, they began also attacking them. Any semblance of organized fighting quickly vanished and descended into a frenzied battle royale.

"There! I see him!" Rene cried out, pointing at an ugly knot of ReWilders and climber-guards, all of whom were swinging and tearing at each other with abandon. Tucked amidst the battling, almost too small to see were a gaggle of wild-eyed children, who haven't yet been put into harm's way.

"Ok, good. Let's go then... Oh, shit..." Maia said, as she looked over and saw that the ReWilders, perhaps feeling they were losing the momentum of the battle - perhaps because they weren't getting much traction fighting bare-handed against assault weapons - had begun thrusting the children forward into the fray. It wasn't clear if their intention was to cause the climber-guards to stop firing at the sight of the children, but, if it was, it was a complete failure, as the climber-guards hesitated for a fraction of a heart-beat before spraying bullets into the shrieking, dazed children - among whom was Rene's son Tyler.

"Oh, no! Stop! Please stop!" Rene appealed to no one who would listen.

Blindly shoving his way into the epicenter of the roiling massacre, Rene desperately attempted to get to his son in the mess of the battle. Thankfully, the fighting was moving away from them, as the climber-guards pursued the retreating ReWilders - a situation that Maia had no doubt would reverse at any moment, or get even messier with the inclusion of the farmers or the militia. It was a unmitigated whirlwind of chaos, and Maia dearly hoped that by some miracle there were pockets of sanity and calm - and Rene's sound had found himself in that. She had no illusions that her hopes had little chance of bearing fruit.

Rushing behind Rene, Maia ran with him, covering their dash as much as she could with her little handgun that would have done nothing to stop the rampage of any of the factions in play. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, focused as they were on destroying the values, ideals and gods of their counterparts, or failing that, simply killing them or bludgeoning them senseless. With the battle having moved on, they reached the mound of bodies where the ReWilders had forced the children to fight. Maia was not even remotely a religious person, nor did she believe in otherworldly powers; but she was praying now, very hard, for anyone, anything, anywhere to have done the merciful thing and spared Rene's child. Maia was right to be atheist.

Sprawled among a mess of vacant eyes, twisted limbs and torn flesh was Tyler, his body inert, but contorted, while his face held a shocked, uncomprehending expression. A bullet had ripped a hole through his chest, tearing out his young life and discarding it like an afterthought. Rene sank to his knees and sobbed over Tyler's body. The battle raged around them incoherently. Maia didn't know what to do.

Suddenly, a mass of lights flooded the area, blasting the night into stark white day, the shock of which was worsened by deafening blares of a siren pulled in urgent succession. Looking into the harbor, Maia gasped. A huge ship was rapidly entering the harbor. The oil tanker. Resignation and despair filled Maia as she watched the boat come in. Had the Council militia failed in getting control of the ship? Were corporate estate troopers going to spill out and turn the tides? The flash of gunfire on the deck, however, gave Maia heart, as it meant the fight was still ongoing and being decided.

Yet, something was still very wrong. The tanker wasn't stopping. Nor was it slowing down. While it seemed the militia had boarded the tanker and directed it to Ganges, they didn't have complete control over it--at least not the throttle or the engines. In fact, the tanker was hurtling into the harbor at full speed; and if it wasn't going to be stopped, it would be headed straight into Ganges itself, smashing directly into the ongoing fighting--not to mention where Maia and Rene were also standing.

Then, from the corner of her eye, Maia saw one of the Council militia men pull out shoulder-rocket and aim it at the tanker, perhaps in a misguided attempt to halt its progress, but with the notable miscalculation that the rocket was going to be slamming into an oil tanker filled with flammable liquid.

"Oh, shit! Rene! We have to get out of here! Come on!" Maia screamed, forcing to Rene to get up and run with Tyler still in his arms.

They only got a few hundred feet away, before an impossibly loud crashing and crunching of metal and concrete stifled even the sounds of gunfire and screaming, followed by a huge explosion that threw Maia and Rene to the ground and obliterated any sensory awareness they had. The oil tanker had arrived into Ganges harbor in spectacular fashion.

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# Chapter 25

Later, they said the smoke from the tanker fire could be seen from Vancouver for a full week before it finally tapered out. Judging from the thick plumes of inky black smoke that shrouded Salt Spring when Maia left, she had no doubt this was true. However, in spite of the oil tanker crashing, exploding, spilling its contents and catching fire, the fighting for Ganges harbor had only briefly paused long enough for the various parties to reload or pick up a stone or piece of rebar, and then continued on well into the night and the early hours of the morning. It was as if a kind of insatiable bloodlust had possessed everyone and filled them with the belief that they needed to consume everything around them with rage and destruction before anyone could stop.

Eventually though, the fighting did end as the number of able-bodied people dwindled and Ganges harbor--the prize that everyone had been battling and killing over--was consumed by fire, filled with toxic fumes, and blocked by the twisted wreck of the tanker, effectively rendering it useless to anyone. Yet the truth was that no one had really cared about the harbor. Neither did people particularly care about the scandal of the contracts with corporate estates, including the GMOs or the poisoned seed, nor did they care about Hanuman, the Holy Earth Mother or even the Liberation. Naturally, later accounts of the Battle for Salt Spring of 2055 would comment on the varying interests, clans and communities that had clashed for control, suggesting that it was an issue of ideology and politics. Maia, however, knew that to be bullshit; most of the people fighting could barely spell ideology, much less cogently state what theirs was. No, the real reason for the fighting was simply that everyone had been pushed to desperation and beyond any ability to see any rational resolution--or the ability to see that capability in others. Everyone been stripped down to a fundamental animalistic desire to survive, to which everyone else posed a threat to.

The butcher's bill for the carnage was enormous. Nearly three quarters the island's population--almost seven thousand people--had been involved in the fight, which had spread over the entire island and had left half that many dead while most of the rest were wounded, maimed and traumatized. Neither did Salt Spring island itself emerge unscathed. As if becoming a physical manifestation of the island's social disintegration, the island had become a blotted mess of burning houses, poisoned fields and dying vegetation and wildlife. With the oil spill, the tanker fire and the inexorable smoke choking the air up and down the entire island - and nothing to be able to put out the fire, since all the equipment was in Vancouver - Salt Spring had become a uninhabitable wasteland. A proper dystopia indeed. Of course, the island had to be evacuated--and of course as well, since ferries and other rescue vessels were lacking, many more islanders died asphyxiated or, shortly later from related poisoning. With the combined deaths of humans, animals, fish and plants, the island had become a festering, putrid mess of bloated, rotting bodies.

As for the "enemy" (Maia wasn't sure whether it was accurate to label them that way as her "allies" had done as much damage and committed as many atrocities), Harmony and the Directorate, including Stefan, were ultimately caught, though it did require killing their final entourage of climber-guards and ReWilders who were all too willing to die a berserker death for Hanuman and the Holy Earth Mother. As for their corporate estate owner conspirators, no one was able to track down their stealth ships or their leader, who had disappeared after the oil tanker disaster as well as the sinking of the troop transports who had attempted to land via the mined Fulford harbor. Meanwhile, the Chinese ships, which had waiting in the distance and monitoring the situation, had pulled away, as expected, content to leave the people in the area to squabble amongst themselves, until the everyone was exhausted and ripe to be overtaken without any effort.

Publicly, Jamie and the Council bravely mocked the escape of the corporate estate troops, claiming yet another Victory for the Liberation. In private though, they were very much relieved that they hadn't needed to engage them. What would have resulted if they did was anybody's guess, but it would have certainly been a very costly encounter. Ultimately, they were happy to have arrested the island's wayward Directorate, which was, when boiled down to the essence of the "incident," an internal matter. As such, with much fanfare and covered by many Council-approved vidstreams, the Directorate was brought back in shackles to Vancouver for what Maia anticipated would be a very public trial - but also a very public attempt on Harmony's side to defend herself. Indeed, there were already many within the Liberated communities, who were disgruntled with the Council, that had begun siding with Harmony and making demands for changes. Undoubtedly, there would be no clean-cut solution that Maia knew Jamie would prefer.

For Maia, the main thing she felt now was gratitude that she'd escaped the island alive. Shortly after the oil tanker had slammed into the harbor and exploded, she'd picked herself and a dazed Rene up from the ground and fled as fast as they could. They, along with Tyler's body that Rene had refused to leave behind, had eventually gotten away from the fighting and found their way to the coastline, where they were seen by one of the Council militia boats and were brought on, along with a number of other refugees. The boat didn't go straight back to Vancouver as would have been ideal, but had to stick around to support the fighting on the island, as well as engage in a few hair-raising skirmishes with some pockets of climbing fanatics. Fortunately, none of the militia recognized her and therefore she was not asked to support them in her capacity as a Messiah--a position which she technically no longer held but she knew would take a while for the paperwork to go through.

Frankly, Maia also felt a huge amount of gratitude that she was no longer the Messiah of the Revolution #3049. If she were a hundred percent honest, she was also quite done with the Liberation. It wasn't that she didn't agree with them anymore or even that she disapproved of their methods or the compromises they'd made. While she would have liked the theory of an immaculate Council with perfect unwavering values that was indomitable against corruption of any kind, she also understood the decisions that Jamie and the Council had had to make, should it be making deals with the enemy or feeding people mutated organisms. Whatever. Fine. The reality of the Liberation was an ugly, confused mess, however much the intentions and final goals were good and laudable. The problem was that whatever revolutionary fervor and desire to be an activist that Maia once had was now extinguished. In the end, Maia was just happy that she didn't have to make the decisions the Council need to make, and she was perfectly content letting them do it.

But what now? What was left for Maia? As she sat on the deck of ferry, watching the grey coast of Vancouver approach, the thing she most longed for was quiet. And calmness. And peace without anyone freaking out on her. Really, just anything away from the madness that were people. Looking to her side where Rene sat, his head sunk low into his chest, Maia couldn't help but feel some responsibility and compassion. It had been difficult, but Maia and the militia had convinced him to relinquish Tyler's body so they could put him in a body bag and store him belowdeck--next to John's body, as it were, and not too far away from the improvised medcenter where SriSharma was recovering. The poor man was a wreck and Maia couldn't simply leave Rene. Whatever he'd done to her, she knew it was for the sake of his family. He was also someone in need, and Maia could at least do the decent thing and support another fellow human being.

Taking hold of Rene's hand in her own, Maia gave him a comforting smile as he looked up, his bloodshot eyes drained of sorrow. Perhaps together, they could help themselves find some measure of comfort.

END
