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When the Select Central Cabinet of Russia met in secret for the first time under its new masters, it was a quiet affair. Seated around a table in the antechamber to the main meeting room were the ministers of the various governmental departments – Finance, Internal Affairs, Foreign Affairs, Defense, Justice, and so on. Behind each man or woman stood a hulking figure matching the gender of each principal.
These were the sticks.
The carrots rested in a glass bowl on the table, and many of the body could not take their eyes off the things: auto-injectors. One dose per canister, each would yield an hour of pure ecstasy and a day of relief and complaisance. Without another dose, after that came horrors of body and mind that would drive anyone thinking of rebellion back into Winthrop Jenkins’ loving arms.
Jenkins sat at the head of the table, Prime Minister Yermenov on his right. Behind him also stood a creature, manlike but no longer human. His smooth and metallic skull matched his teeth, and his face was set in a rigor of implacability, with bright red glowing eyes. He was even bigger than the Professor, who stood behind the Russian Prime Minister.
“Professor, translate for me please.”
The man stepped forward next to Jenkins, and interpreted the English for the Russians who did not speak it well.
“I hope my people have answered all your pertinent questions about the new arrangement of this nation, but let me sum up: you all now work for me. I will supply you what you need and you will maintain your privileges and lifestyles for you and your families, but I will make all decisions. All of you now have various...devices implanted in your bodies. Some will monitor your location and activities, some will listen and watch what you say and do. Some will give you pain, or even kill you, if you step out of line. And with you at all times will be one of my Shadows.” He nodded at the guardians behind them. “Just in case you think to seek outside intervention.”
“It doesn’t matter what you do in your off time, as long is it does not interfere with running this country. Sleep with your husbands or wives, boyfriends or girlfriends or whores, play with your children, prune your roses, gamble; I do not care about your personal lives. But when it comes to governmental affairs, I or my associates will feed you your lines, make your decisions, and ensure your cooperation.” Jenkins folded his hands across his ample stomach. “Your only alternative, ladies and gentlemen, is death. Not only for you, but your families, anyone you hold dear.”
As if on cue – there’s always one, Jenkins thought – the Minister of Health, a distinguished-looking doctor with a Lenin beard, stood up. “I cannot agree to this. I have no idea what you have done, but any addiction can be beaten, and I am not afraid to die, but I will not be controlled.” He then sat down, staring straight ahead as if expecting to be hauled to a prison cell, as dissenters were dealt with in the past.
“Very well,” replied Jenkins reasonably. Taking out his phone, he pressed a sequence on the touch screen as they all watched. A moment later a wet pop issued from the Minister of Health, and he fell forward, face down on the table. Blood pooled under his head and ran down between his knees.
The ministers gasped, some touching their faces or chests as if to find out where their own implants might be.
“You see, ladies and gentlemen, I do not make idle threats. Nor are any of you truly necessary. Your deputies have already been processed, and will view a recording of this meeting...some selected scenes, anyway. So. Would anyone else like to make a pointless protest?”
No one did.
* * *
The call Chairman Daniel Markis had been waiting for came through on the secure phone, precisely on time. It had taken the techs almost an hour to set up, passing parts of encryption keys between two hostile powers with all the careful checking that entailed. Eventually they were able to secure the call without danger of letting the enemy into their system.
“Markis,” he said into speakerphone, looking across his desk at his closest confidantes – Cassandra and Millicent Johnstone, and his wife Elise.
“Good afternoon, Daniel. This is Winthrop Jenkins. I’m not sure we’ve ever spoken, but your face and voice are well known to me – indeed, to all the world.”
“Hello, Mister Jenkins,” Daniel said with strained politeness. “What is this about?”
“I just thought I’d try to defuse any tension that might be between us because of our...past, you might say.”
“I’d say the tension had less to do with me putting two bullets into your nephew than with you threatening to destabilize the world just when we need to be working together against the Meme.” Daniel had already decided to deliberately provoke the man, to see how badly he wanted whatever he wanted, and as a negotiating tactic.
“Come, come,” Jenkins replied expansively. “I just wanted you to know that I forgive you for that and I consider the personal matter closed. As for politics, well, two politicians should be able to work things out, eh? Some kind of compromise that leaves us all better off?”
“I’m listening, but you’ll have to convince me somehow that Russia under your rule is better than on its own.”
Jenkins laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “Russia has always been dysfunctional. If we can work something out, and you keep the Americans off my back, I will ensure the space effort has everything it needs from us. I know the cloned Meme fusion engines are in terribly short supply, and our hybrid reactors are the best substitute Earth has. I’ve already given orders to ramp up production and R&D to improve them.”
“And what about Chechnya?”
“An internal problem. They’ve always been troublemakers, but soon they won’t make any more trouble. After losing a billion and a half people over the last couple of years, what’s a few million more?”
“Whatever we agree to, you have to call off the Spetsnaz and stop the slaughter. Deport them en masse if you must. I’ve gotten agreement from several Muslim-friendly countries to give the refugees asylum, starting with Turkey. All you have to do is get them to the border.”
Jenkins’ smile could be heard through the line. “Of course, Daniel. I’ll give the orders as soon as we’re off the phone. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Daniel ground his teeth as he kept a check on his anger at the condescending tone. As much as he would like to tell the man to go to hell, antagonizing him would do nothing good. Either he had to make a deal, or he had to appear to do so in order to dull the man’s sense of alertness, to make him believe he had the upper hand. “I’m only concerned about saving lives and saving this planet. I can’t believe you want to jeopardize our very survival just for power, or revenge.”
“I’ve already told you, I’ve abandoned the need for revenge. My brother and nephew were fools. They underestimated you, and I salute you. They also mishandled the North American peoples, forgetting their long history of independence. But Russians are used to the heavy hand of authority. In fact, they respond better to it. Just as Australia is going now, Russia will as well. We’re all better off with someone like me in charge, keeping everyone in line.”
Daniel waited, appearing to be pondering, but in reality sticking to the script he and his three advisors had hastily assembled. “All right. I can’t promise anything, but I will bring your proposal-in-principle before the Council. Once we talk, I’m sure I will have a set of specific concession they will want, and you can present your demands. Shall we say a week?”
“I like the way you think, Daniel. Just assure me no one will take any precipitate action before then.”
“I can only assure you that I will exert my influence to keep everyone from doing anything hasty. I’ll talk to the FC Council and the Neutral States Assembly, and even China if you like. That’s the best I can do.”
Jenkins voice came oily, assured. “Of course, of course. Just remember what’s at stake. You have my number now. Goodbye, Mister Chairman.”
“Goodbye, Mister Jenkins.”
“Call me Premier, if you don’t mind. It’s a very Russian title, don’t you think?”
“Certainly. Goodbye, Mister Premier.” Markis pressed the disconnect button before he had to listen to any more crap from the other man. “It’s a wonder he isn’t calling himself Tsar Winthrop the First.”
Cassandra gave a little golf clap. “Well done, I think, DJ. Just the right tone of outraged righteousness combined with ineffectual weakness.”
“Will a week be enough time to get ready?” Daniel asked.
“My analysts say so, and I concur,” she responded. “But we’re relying a lot on people we are not even directly coordinating with, much less control.”
“We’ve never controlled anything, Cass, only influenced, since we loosed the Eden Plague on the world.” Daniel turned to look at Millie, sitting primly with her hands in her lap, the perfect assistant. He knew she would only give her opinion when he requested it. “Comments, Mill?”
“Besides that he’s lying through his teeth? That he’s the type that will only grow more dangerous as time goes on, and has to be dealt with sooner rather than later?”
Her words held a venom that surprised him, and he lifted an eyebrow at her in question, but she pressed her lips together tightly and said no more.
“Okay, that leaves you, dear.” He looked at Elise.
“I agree with Millie. If we’re going to have another bout of ugliness, let’s get it over with now, while we still have time.”
Daniel nodded. “Well, when you all agree, I guess that makes up my mind, not that I don’t feel the same way. What about the biopsychology results?” He referred to the ongoing effort to figure out just what the virus’ long-term effects on those infected with it were.
Elise stood up, brushing her medium-length auburn hair back over her ears, to go over and look out the big window. “More confirmation of our theories. Rather like a drug, the body adjusts to the virus and vice versa. Some people with a previous propensity toward evil drift back toward their old ways, especially if the behavior does not involve physical violence. For example, we’re seeing a statistical spike in hardcore pedophilia – taking advantage of prepubescent children, I mean, not just attraction to teenagers. Our researches indicate that the Plague provides an ethical ‘reset’ but is no guarantee against a slide into immorality, even criminality.”
Daniel replied, “So what you’re saying is, if the guy wants to do it, he’ll slowly quash his conscience, overcome his inhibitions, and start indulging again.”
“Yes,” Elise replied. “This is true for all sorts of antisocial and destructive behavior, and sometimes the virus gives them an excuse to relapse by dramatically reducing the consequences. How do you convince a heroin addict to give it up if he can’t hit rock bottom? If the virus keeps healing him up every time he gets clean, there’s no fear of consequences left.”
Daniel snorted. “So what you’re saying is that the virtue effect is temporary, limited, and will just have moved the needle a bit on human behavior.”
“Yes, and in some ways it’s bad.” Elise turned to her husband, searching his face. “Did we do the right thing, Daniel? All those people dead?”
He stepped forward to take her in his arms, her head coming up under his chin. “Of course we did, hon. We aren’t responsible for people’s decisions to launch nukes, and without the Eden Plague and the research on it, we wouldn’t have been ready for the Demon Plagues and a lot more would have died.” Daniel pushed her gently back to arms’ length. “I thought you had gotten past all this. Something else bugging you?”
Elise dropped her eyes, a surefire sign the answer was yes. She turned to glance at the mother and daughter sitting on the office sofa, then turned back and took a deep breath. “I guess I’m just disappointed that the changes weren’t more permanent. You know I believe all behavior is neurobiological...”
“And this doesn’t fit with your belief in the perfectibility of humankind through biotech?” Daniel kept his tone light to take the sting out of them. “That doesn’t mean you’re wrong. Just that the job is a hell of a lot harder than you thought it was. You hit the scientific lottery when you got ahold of the Plague, but now things are drifting back to normal, and for humans, normal has never meant morally upright.”
Cassandra cleared her throat, apparently testing the waters to see if this was a private discussion or if she should comment. When both of the Markises turned to look at her she raised her chin. “At the risk of saying I told you so, I’ll quote a favorite verse: ‘The heart of man is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked. Who can know it?’ Even in ancient times people knew this in their bones.”
Elise’ face scrunched up in preparation for another round of argument on this topic. “I’m not going to give up just because it’s difficult.”
“Me neither, Elise,” Cassandra said wearily, standing up. “While you keep looking for the neuro-genetic key to morality, I’m going to go back to fighting the evil in front of me, and leave the rest up to God.” With that, she strode out.
Her daughter Millie shrugged wryly and followed her, while Daniel laid a finger across his wife’s lips. “Not worth it, hon. You both have your hearts in the right place, even if your heads don’t agree.”
“I know...and what scares me is that I’m starting to believe on some level she’s right. Not about religion,” she continued hastily, “just about how hard it is to progress toward a better society or a better human being.”
“The good thing is,” Daniel said as he turned to put his arm through hers to walk her out of the office, “you have a lot of time to work on the problem and so does she, so don’t burn your bridges with her just because you have different worldviews. I need you both, in different ways, and so does the world, okay?”
Elise nodded, strolling slowly along with him. “Indian?” she asked with a smile and a change of subject.
“Sounds good. Bombay or Taste of Tandoor?”
“Bombay. You owe me candlelight and curry.”
“And a lot more. I’ll call for reservations.”
