​Darwood & Smitty - Chapter 7

By the time the deliverymen made it back to their van, another Earth Express crew was already unpacking Eli 2140 and stuffing their own van with boxes. The president’s secretary, Mary, had placed a call to relieve Darwood and Smitty of their day’s deliveries and had put them on indefinite leave. And they would have use of their van. It was one of the benefits of having a government-controlled delivery system. A private company could have created all sorts of hassles, though they probably would have promoted the president’s use of their men instead. But Earth Express had to jump to its duty. Within ten minutes, the new truck was packed and zipped off down the street. Darwood and Smitty plunked themselves into their own truck and sat without saying a word for several seconds. “So, where to?” Darwood finally asked.

The two men looked at each other. Their mission was clear: figure out what Squat and the Jovians were up to. How to accomplish their mission wasn’t clear at all.

As it turned out, President Keane and Smitty Jones got along so well because the president was exactly as trusting as Smitty was: not at all. It’s why he understood the spiral of mistrust building upon mistrust so well … something he said he’d had to deal with in constructive ways. But the Global Investigators — the G.I. — that should have been looking into this kind of thing was part of the old guard. They were already in place when Keane was elected and brought into office, and although they’d fed security enough tips to save him from a couple of assassination attempts already, he never knew who their real masters were. If Squat or the Jovians or someone behind them was pulling strings on the G.I., asking the G.I. to investigate could be the end. The only ones he trusted for this were Darwood and Smitty.

And they had no idea what they were doing. Even if Squat stayed in one place — which was doubtful enough — they’d have a hard time finding him again with Eli’s map of the place erased. And they weren’t about to hop a police cruiser and try gaining access to the mother ship — if they could even figure out which one — to try pummeling a 20-foot Jovian captain and his crew. And if the president didn’t trust his own men for information, who were they supposed to trust if they went asking around?

“Dear God,” said Smitty plainly, “there’s simply nowhere to go. How are we supposed to do the impossible?”

“Well, as I always say, if you’ve got to do the impossible, you might as well do it with a cup of coffee in hand,” said Darwood.

Smitty looked at him and blinked. “My good man, you’ve never said a thing like that in all your life. But it’s a damn good thing to say. Caribou?”

“Caribou.”

Smitty didn’t really need to ask. Caribou was the only ubiquitous chain with outstanding coffee, and the two seldom ventured elsewhere for a cup. As soon as they said it, Eli had them cruising several blocks past the Senate and turning a corner before it slowed, found a parking spot, and halted maybe mile from the Apex. The men clambered out and made their way into the lodge-like café.

Chain cafés had always relied on three things to spread themselves wide and keep profits high: friendly workers; a great atmosphere; and aggressive marketing, even if subtle. Terrific coffee was secondary because, with a public that barely knew good coffee, it was just a drain on profit. Coffee snobs, though, felt that Caribou had gone a step further and offered an excellent brew on top of all else, which allowed for its climb from obscurity against the other chains.

When it got big enough, competition between Caribou and its prime nemesis really heated up and they both resorted to a cost-cutting measure: androids. Androids hadn’t replaced humans in most positions, but they could certainly take orders. They were excellent sanitation workers. And they could lay bricks like mad, so long as they had an on-site manager to help with corners, windows, or anything beyond laying bricks in a steady pattern. In short, they could tackle what humans could if the instructions were exceedingly simple, because it took an enormous effort to program them. That was especially true for even basic interactions with people.

The problem with interactions was straightforward: you had to program them to understand any sentence you imagined them hearing. A café android would understand definitions of decaf, half-caf, skim milk, latte, cappuccino, and any other term involved in an order. You could rattle off a complex drink in any way and they’d understand. But stray too far in conversation and they’d just stare back and say, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” So a smart customer just walked to the counter and provided ingredients: 16 oz., decaf, skim iced latte. As the android heard it, the ingredients were immediately posted on the digital screen beside the barista.

No need for change, of course. A paperless economy had been predicted for so long, the only doubt had been when it would finally take place. Nearly everyone had a single card with all their available funds and credit on it by the early ’20s, shortly after the world government took power. The card operated as every key you wanted to program it with; as a single identity useable around the globe; and as payment for everything. Embedded with encrypted RFID technology, the cards never had to be taken from a pocket. A door, a car, a “cash register” (as they were still called), or an ID check point simply detected the cards immediately, so you just mashed your thumb against a small scanner to identify yourself and that was that.

The government, of course, had wanted to embed chips inside people so that there wasn’t any risk of losing cards, but there was too large an outcry from the so-called nuts who thought that was “the mark of the beast.” And for once, the general populace agreed and saw this as too great a threat to their privacy, which they thought they still had. So the government gave people the choice of a card or an embedded chip. Most people opted for the card while the “early adopters” laughed and got the chips. Why would you want to carry a card around? they wondered. What if you want to go swimming or camping? Why bother with a purse or wallet?

That was their opinion until tech thieves learned to steal RFID frequencies and duplicate fingerprints easily enough that suddenly, people needed to replace the cards from time to time. Or their chips. That meant going under the skin to remove an old chip and slip in a new one. Embedding was almost gone because of this, until the next trick rolled out: the ability to modify the ID frequency whenever you wanted — on either card or chip, even with a chip still embedded. So even now, as Darwood and Smitty entered Caribou, embedded chips were becoming more popular, though still used by the minority. There was something creepy, to most people, about being unable to shut off who and where you were to the increasingly large Big Brother eyeball.

With payment out of the way, androids basically just required adequate voice recognition in the midst of a noisy café, which was easy technology; otherwise, they were there so that people weren’t just speaking into a microphone — to give more of a lifelike interaction. Orders were placed, thumbs were mashed onto the ID pad, and then customers walked to the end of the counter to await their drinks.

Other than the problem of complex conversation, androids seemed surprisingly human. Robotics teams had worked strenuously to make their movements smooth, and they had succeeded. Android voices were all recorded by voice-over pros — again, every sentence in the android vocabulary recorded in advance, and never word by word. So they sounded realistic. And in fact they could look realistic, too, if someone bothered using live tissue for their skin. Few did, though. There wasn’t any point. You knew when you were talking to an android because of the language complications, and by now, no one minded. So if the skin looked a bit plastic, that was ok.

Androids still weren’t trusted with making coffee though. They might have been excellent at it since chains wanted each drink done in a precise way, but it would take any remaining mystique away from coffee, and that was something customers didn’t seem to want. Besides, if the cashier (again, the old term still used) ran into communication problems, the barista could always take over directly — it was a way to make sure that the personal touch was there when needed.

Darwood and Smitty stood briefly in line, then came face to face with the android up front. “Grande, power hemp Latteccino,” said Smitty.
 
“Excellent choice. Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Can I get you anything to eat?”

“No, that’s it,” said Smitty, pressing his thumb to the pad.

“Thank you for your order. May I help you?” asked the android as Darwood stepped up.

A minute later they each had a drink in hand and were heading toward the door when a boy — probably not yet a teen — approached them with a piece of paper in hand. The boy was freckled, wore jeans and a black t-shirt, and had a full crop of dirty-blond, mussed-up hair on top. He didn’t smile or frown. He didn’t much stand out. He simply came up and said to either one of the men — you couldn’t tell which — “Here, this fell out of your pocket on the way in.”

The men looked to one another suspiciously. They doubted they had dropped any papers. They doubted they were carrying any scraps like this in the first place. Smitty lowered his voice and bent down a bit to keep his words between himself and the boy. “Who sent you?”

The boy scowled. “No one sent me. I saw you drop this piece of paper. Thought you might want to have it.” As he emphasized the word have, he shoved the paper into Smitty’s hand, then turned and walked from the shop.

Smitty closed his fist around the paper and the men walked, without a word, outside. They looked around for the boy, but he had already disappeared into the sidewalk crowd. So the two stepped over to Eli and climbed in. Darwood looked at Smitty expectantly. “What’s it say?”

But Smitty was busy scanning through the windows, seeing if he could spot anyone watching them. The whole world was basically monitored. All the cities, all the metal roads, had cameras plastered on walls and ceilings and traffic poles and you name it. Everyone knew they could be watched at nearly any time. But Smitty was looking for anyone in sight who might be purposely, personally, tailing them. He saw no one, and slowly, he turned to Darwood while opening the scrap of paper.

“What’s it say?” Darwood asked again.

Smitty stared blankly at the paper, reading it a few times in his head and wondering what it meant before he finally looked up at Darwood. “Pluto screwed up,” he said at last.

“Why? What does the paper say?” Darwood asked yet again.

Smitty handed him the piece of rumpled paper and Darwood looked at it about as blankly as Smitty had. It read very simply: Pluto Screwed Up. Dark Alley.

“You think it means ‘Dark Ally’?” said Darwood as he looked to his friend. “You know ... the person who sent it is our ally.”

“I hope so,” said Smitty. “I can’t think of anything more cliché in a mystery like this than a dark alley.” Then he frowned. Looking across Darwood’s shoulder, he saw exactly what he was hoping against. A dark alley. It was late afternoon by now, but summertime, so the sun was still high. But it was a tiny alley squeezed between an apartment building and a pizzeria. There wasn’t even room in it for a dumpster. It was long, narrow, and ran eventually to the next block — Smitty could tell because of the light at the other end of it. He motioned with his head so that Darwood would notice the place. “Think that’s it?”

Darwood turned in a hurry to see it. “Oh boy, are you serious? Anyway, if we’re really supposed to head down a dark alley, I doubt it’s this one. You can see clear to the other end. Nobody in it.”

“Ok, good. I was hoping you’d say that, because I have a hundred other leads for us to follow. How about you?” The sarcasm dripped.

Darwood closed his eyes and sighed. “Fine. We visit the dark alley. But I don’t see how —”
“I don’t either, but I don’t know what else to do. Either someone’s a remarkable prankster and just happened to catch a pair of guys that this note means something to, or someone knows what we’re doing and they may be trying to help. If we’re up against powerful enemies, I doubt they’d have to lure us into a dark alley to get us killed. Let’s go.”

The two set their coffees into holders, tumbled from the van, and ambled across the street to the alley, trying to look like they knew exactly where they were going and wondering exactly what they were getting themselves into. “After you,” said Darwood, gesturing politely with his hand for Smitty to go on in before him.

“No no, I insist,” said Smitty. Darwood pretended to tip a hat in thanks, then strode on in with a purposeful step. As he gazed ahead down the alley, he grew more and more sure that they were in the wrong place, or goose chasing. There was no one in the alley. There was nowhere for someone to hide. And there was ...

... there was another alley heading off to the right. Just twenty yards away. Darwood silently pointed it out to Smitty, who motioned for them to push on. As they drew near the second alley, they slowed and tried to peak around the corner. “It’s safe. There’s no one else here. Come on in.” It wasn’t Darwood. It wasn’t Smitty. It was a calm, yet strong, male voice. The deliverymen glanced at one another, shrugged, and decided to head in.

This second alley was really just an alcove, wider than the first alley but only about twenty feet deep. There were a few trash cans with lids barely hanging on near its end. And just before the cans stood a towering man, about seven feet, who was lean, as built as any man the two had seen, and was very nearly glowing. Radiant anyway, in a subtle kind of way; and yet, if they could dare to let themselves think it ... he almost seemed to cast a light from his body, setting a more placid sphere about the darkened alley.

“Good of you to follow my lead,” said the man.

“Good of you to ... give us one?” said Darwood. Smitty came up beside him.

“Look, I know it’s all a little strange for you, but then, today hasn’t been a very normal day, has it?”

Darwood looked to Smitty. “How is it that everyone knows what we’ve been doing today?”

The man laughed. “Don’t be surprised about the attention you draw to yourselves when you visit Earth’s president. There are very many forces involved in politics, and the higher you go, the more attention you get, like it or not. When you’re talking with the president, you catch a lot of eyes from other planets, who realize that the whole Solar system is affected by the choices he makes. There’s a lot going on that you don’t know about. That the president doesn’t know about. And it’s all on account of galactic law.”

“What about the galactic law?” Smitty asked.

The man turned and fit one of the garbage lids more tightly onto its can, tested the can’s strength, then turned again and took a seat on the thing, putting his hands onto his thighs. “Galactic law is a very strict thing, gentlemen. It’s not like Earth laws that change every few years. It’s set in motion by supreme councils who are highly regarded for their wisdom. They rarely make errors in the laws they make, and even if they do, it is generally centuries before a law changes, because it takes that kind of time just to gauge whether the law works or not. In other words, they aren’t major errors. They’re subtle. The only other laws they change are laws that depend on the galaxy’s evolution. In other words, the law makes sense for a long time, but eventually becomes outdated.”

Darwood looked confused. “Got an example?”

“Well, for instance, certain laws wouldn’t be necessary if every planet interacted peacefully with every other planet. But that kind of galactic peace is a long way off. It’ll happen one day, but not for millions of years. Even our little system, though, is closer to harmony now that Earth is aware of life on the other planets. But we’ve got a long way to go before the planets stop duking it out for system resources.”

“Ok, so what’s this about Pluto screwing up?” asked Smitty.

“Let me explain where I was going with galactic law. Then I can put that into context. See, Earth never knew about galactic law until it was aware of life throughout the Solar system. Then galactic law was introduced and you know now, for instance, that galactic law prohibited anyone from invading Earth while you were still unaware of others. Pluto, of course, did for a very short time and its people were punished.”

Darwood was curious. “How were they punished?”

“No one knows. It’s galactic law that you’re not to look in on the punishments of others. We know that the punishment was severe and that Pluto never forgot. That’s all we’re supposed to know.

“The point is, you were introduced to galactic law. But you weren’t given the whole book, so to speak. There’s a lot you don’t know about the law yet because your global unity is so tenuous. It needs to be very sound before you’re fully introduced to the law and allowed to take part in galactic conferences. President Keane already knows this. What he doesn’t know is how the rest of the law affects the future of your world.”

“And how do you know the rest of the law?” Smitty asked, his eyes narrow.

“I am Venusian,” said the man straightly. “In your tongue, my name is roughly Talathar. I am on the Venusian Council and a minister to our king.”

The deliverymen stared, but Smitty nodded as well. It explained a lot — the man’s size as well as the subtle glow. It was often said that they were radiant. But Darwood and Smitty had never seen one, nor had many. The Martians were present in all the major cities because, of all the system planets, they were the fanatic merchants. The Jovians were everywhere because they were the police. But little was seen of those from other planets. They were mostly involved in diplomatic relations and resource trade. That meant that the politicians and those working the ports saw them, but seldom anyone else.

In fact, plenty of people had seen the Mercurians before Earth was ever aware of life in the system, but they weren’t recognized as life. Probes had been sent to the planet and scoped out a vast, rocky terrain. Little did the scientists know that many of the “rocks” littering the landscape were Mercurians in hibernation — a state they remained in for close to 500 Earth years at a time before waking for just as much time. They were also close to 50 feet when standing, and yes, their skin looked like rock. It was said that they were the simplest inhabitants of the system, having few needs and few desires beyond meeting those needs; they did not engage in trade, though they traveled for diplomatic purposes when required. The Venusians generally picked them up on vast ships to assist them, as the Mercurians had no ships of their own. The Mercurians had no central government whatsoever, but had a seat on the Galactic Council because they were naturally peaceful among themselves, and harmony was just a matter of life.

The Martians hadn’t ever been seen by Earth probes because they lived in vast cities underground. To them, it made no sense to live above ground when the ground made for such excellent insulation. Early in their history, the planet had been warmer, but it cooled too quickly for them to adapt, and they went underground where it was easy to heat their cities. The Martians had their seat on the Galactic Council much as Earth probably would some day because of a global trade federation. Even more enamored with trade than Earth, it was a natural force to bring them together.

Earth probes sent to Jupiter and Saturn had naturally not turned up life because life existed far beneath the gassy clouds. Jupiter was ruled by a queen, though little was known of their government by the general public. Saturn was ruled by a council, but they traded little with those in the system and kept diplomatic relations to a minimum. “Don’t bother us and we won’t bother you,” was something of a maxim for them. They were apparently involved in more galactic relations than anyone else, and it was said they were the most advanced in just about every way. So no one did bother them.

Uranus and Neptune were said by some to have been early life trials in the system, but life no longer existed on either one. Earth only knew that both planets were protected by galactic law so that their resources couldn’t be used or abused. And Earth had never successfully sent probes to distant Pluto or to the cloud-covered Venus. Pluto had been attempted twice, but both probes mysteriously disappeared — it later turned out that Pluto had annihilated them. Had the probes reached the cold planet[1], they would have discovered one vast city covering the entire sphere, ruled by an iron-fisted dictator named Lord Boolean.

Probes to Venus never succeeded because they melted in the outrageous heat of the planet. Had probes succeeded there, however, they’d have discovered a number of vast cities on the hot planet, ruled by an apparently benevolent king. And the man speaking with Darwood and Smitty now was supposed to be a minister of that king. Fair enough, thought Smitty. We’re obviously catching attention from people like that today. But what does it have to do with Pluto screwing up?

And Darwood asked exactly that.

“You already know that, once you achieve a certain level of global unity, you’re introduced to life in the system,” said Talathar. “Once you achieve a more stable level of unity, you’re introduced to life in the galaxy by joining the Council. What you don’t know about the law is that if you ever go backwards — if you become less united — you are open to invasion and political takeover.”

Darwood and Smitty stared, saying nothing, but with the need for more details written in their astonishment.

“When you’re aware of the system life and you take a step back in global unity, any planet in the system is allowed to invade you and take power. You’re protected so long as you don’t stumble, but if you do, the Galactic Council allows for another planet in the system to come in and force the stability that you’re lacking. Likewise, once you earn a place on the Galactic Council and you stumble in global unity, then any planet or system in the galaxy can take over your planet.”

“Well,” said Smitty after a pause and thinking this over, “that’s good news and bad news. As long as Keane keeps things stable, we’re doing well. Isn’t that right?”

“Absolutely. But look at what you ran into today. First you came across an agent who told you to assassinate the president. This man doesn’t work for any group that foresaw the need for global unity; he also doesn’t work for the corporations, as President Keane believes. He is an agent of Pluto.

“You see, Pluto has things in place so that, if the president is killed, they can make it look like a political assassination by the conglomerates. It wouldn’t take much to convince people, since the corporations are obviously not too fond of the president. But Pluto has also planted politicians into your senate who would then insist that the government go to war against the corporations. If they make that happen, Earth is open to invasion.”

“And what about the Jovians? They wanted us to press Keane’s agenda forward.”

“Yes, and too quickly. Keane is wise. He understands the need to take each step in a way that maintains stability, even while dismantling the very powers that currently hold the globe together. If he moves too quickly, Pluto has CEOs in place to lead a revolt against the government, and again we have the war that opens you up to invasion.

“But … they screwed up, didn’t they?” said Talathar. He gave the men a moment to think about it. “They had their first agent approach a number of delivery crews and, as Keane told you, those crews either went into hiding or went after the president. But all of those attempts ultimately failed. So Pluto decided to take another approach, having the Jovians give you a new message of support for the president. They acted as if they are wise and generous, but that they need the president to move more quickly in his agenda. But the first agent didn’t get the message in time. He was not supposed to meet with you. But you got both approaches, and as a result, you knew that you needed to return to Keane and find out what was going on. They undermined their own efforts.”

Smitty studied the Venusian carefully. There was something definitely not right here. “Tell me again what happened to Pluto when they invaded Earth before they were supposed to.”

The Venusian stood from the trash can, smiling. He was just about magnetic, and even the distrusting Smitty liked him a lot. The Venusian set his large hand on Smitty’s shoulder. “They were punished severely for breaking galactic law, and you want to know why I’m now breaking the same law in order to tell you the law.” Smitty nodded and the man looked him sincerely in the eye. “Gentlemen,” he said, looking to Darwood as well, “there are times when you’re punished for breaking a law because you want to get away with something. There are other times when you’re punished for breaking the law because you believe in doing what’s right, despite the law.

“The Galactic Council is no doubt far wiser than I, and I already know that I will be apologizing to them for my choice today. But from every angle I can see this situation, letting Pluto trick you into stepping backward puts our system in great jeopardy. I believe the law was set up for planets who stumbled backwards on their own, not for those who were tricked into it with agents planted by another planet.

“Pluto is the only planet in the system with certain resources that are necessary for building the most potent weapons and propulsion devices of any Solar planet … except maybe Saturn, who just won’t get involved. However, they don’t have the resources to power the actual weapons and propulsion devices. Just to build them. Earth, on the other hand, has the resources for powering the devices. Venus has counseled Earth government, warning them never to trade or sell these resources, and so far Earth hasn’t. But if Pluto legally invades, it can access those resources and potentially become the most powerful force in our system. If the Plutonians then lead any kind of system-wide war, our entire system would be open for take-over from other planets or systems in the galaxy, as I’ve explained. Do you see why I’m risking galactic retribution by telling you what’s going on?”

Darwood and Smitty nodded together, both in awe. But Smitty, in particular, was inspired. It was a real act of sacrifice, of heroism, that was almost never seen. But in this one day, he had seen it twice. Keane was up against the powers of the globe. Talathar was up against the powers of the galaxy. And both were doing so because they were fighting for what was right. It was the kind of feeling Smitty had for America’s Founding Fathers … and he thought that those were the kind of heroes who always lived in the past.

But even while admiring the Venusian, he had one last thing he was trying to understand. “Everything you say makes sense,” he said, “but it also implies that Pluto is the only planet that wants to take us over. Is that true?”

“More or less. Mercury and Venus would have no interest in taking command of another planet. Saturn’s interests are elsewhere. Mars doesn’t care as long as they can trade with the new government. Jupiter would never invade on its own — the Jovians aren’t as ambitious as the Plutonians; they’re not as schooled in war tactics; and frankly, they’re a bit cowardly despite their size and strength. They are not against expanding their power, though, and are happy to have Pluto lead a charge from which they both benefit.”

“Well if it’s such a great threat to the Solar system,” said Darwood thoughtfully, “wouldn’t Venus and Mercury give us a hand in defending us from invasion?”

The Venusian looked to the ground and sighed. “We cannot,” he said, avoiding the men’s eyes. “I’m afraid it’s another matter in which I disagree with the Galactic Council. Anyone invading Earth can legally go into battle with anyone else invading Earth, so long as the invasion itself is legal. After all, no one planet has any more right to invasion than any other, and if Venusians wanted to invade Earth, then we could attack Pluto. But to defend against an invasion means to nullify the right of invasion. The Galactic Council isn’t exactly pleased with those who want to nullify their laws.”

Darwood and Smitty looked downright depressed. Earth wasn’t in a position to defend itself against planets that had been flying around space for eons. Smitty gazed a little sadly at Talathar. “So what do you do now — go into hiding?”

“Hiding?” Talathar stared eye to eye. “No, Mr. Jones. That isn’t the Venusian way. Hiding means that you know you’ve done something wrong. Now that we’re done here and I’ve shared with you what I can, I’ll leave immediately to face the Council. Whatever punishment they have for me, I can only hope it is reduced by approaching them with honor rather than being hunted down.”

​The deliverymen reached out to shake the giant man’s hands, but he embraced them both instead, then sent them on their way.

*****

[1] As it turned out, Pluto really was a planet, as Earthlings learned when life from the system made itself known. The Plutonians had been furious when removed from our recognized list of planets and relegated to the land of Kuipod — “wandering member of the Kuiper belt” — and had almost invaded Earth in their fury, but for a more patient, more thinking, up-and-coming leader named Boolean. What we hadn’t realized was that planets were defined by the presence of life, which Pluto had.

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