UnConsequences

“Breakfast is in thirty minutes.”

The AI’s cheery greeting elicited a groan. Sean was not a morning person and yesterday’s adventure had left him dry mouthed and tired. He consoled himself with another hot shower. He dragged on a deep red leisure suit and headed for breakfast. The delightful smells of a fresh breakfast met him in the corridor outside the dining room and Sean realised just how hungry he was.

The First Minister of Scotland was already there along with his entourage. He looked tired and dishevelled dark bags under his bloodshot eyes evidence of a lack of sleep, his wan complexion confirmation of a stressful night. “Who, the fuck, are you?”

“He’s one of my employees, Grigor and don’t swear in my house, you know I don’t like it!”

Belinda Leask swept into the dining room followed as usual by Michael and Stephen. Belinda showed no signs of the previous night’s excitement. She sat at the head of the table while Michael served her with fresh juice, smoked salmon and scrambled egg.

“Help yourselves, gentlemen.”

Sylvia bounced into the room, “Sorry I’m late Gran.”

She kissed her grandmother on the cheek and helped herself to a huge plate of food, a mug of tea and a fresh juice. “I’m starved!” she exclaimed and settled down to eat.

Sean helped himself to liberally buttered toast and was astonished to find a pot of coffee, more evidence of the wealth of the Leasks. Coffee was a rare treat these days so he indulged himself.

There ensued half an hour of mindless small talk, much to Grigor Campbell’s frustration. Eventually he could take no more.

“Belinda - we have to talk.”

“Yes I know Grigor, shortly” she looked up “Michael, did you get those tickets for Sylvia?”

“Yes ma’am they were delivered half an hour ago.” Michael cleared away Belinda’s plate and poured her a coffee.

“Thank you. The First Minister and I will take our coffee in the study, Stephen bring your pad.”

“At last” mumbled Grigor Campbell.

They settled down in the study only Stephen remained standing, Belinda sat behind her desk; Grigor perched on the edge of the couch. He clasped his hands in front of him almost praying.

“Belinda - what is going on? I have spent the last twelve hours fire fighting - the parliament is in total disarray. You can’t seriously expect Norman Baker to run Leask Corp, he’s - he’s just not up to it. I mean -.”

“I know exactly what you mean, Grigor, and I am fully aware of Norman’s strengths and his weaknesses as I am yours. So just listen.”

Grigor taken a by surprise for the second time in twelve hours he was now well outside his comfort zone. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms in front of him.

“Stephen, you have the floor, take us through the new structure of Leask Corp please?”

For the next hour the First Minister sat opened mouthed as Sean then Belinda laid out a new direction for Leask Corp in general and Belinda Leask in particular. The main business of Leask Corp would remain unchanged; it would continue to be the backbone of the Republic’s economy. However Belinda had in mind a more expansive role across other sectors, in particular she wanted to greater presence in China and Africa. The latter was going to be the most difficult as China had effectively bought Africa after the crash and was well known to dislike interference.

She also wanted to send teams of researchers onto the European continent and had already elicited support from the Scandies in this endeavour. Their task was to find the remnants of the population and try to improve theire lot. There had been little or no contact over the channel for nearly 40 years and she believed the pollution levels had dropped sufficiently to allow limited travel. She had stored up enough hydrocarb to power fifteen land based vehicles for three months and expected that they would leave in a month. For this to happen she would need the Republic’s support and it was Grigor’s task to make sure that was available

With the 10% left over Belinda Leask was out to make a difference elsewhere in the world. Her goal was nothing less than the resurgence of the human race, a return to the spirit of enquiry, experimentation and innovation so lacking since the crash. Humankind she said had become moribund retreated from fearfully into an introspective shell which had no place for growth and exploration. Humanity had simply stopped; stuck in a post hydrocarb straight-jacket and fearful of the future.

“I’m going to talk to AI-1; it may have a few ideas.”

“Not that old thing!” exclaimed Campbell, “You can’t be serious, Belinda!”

“I am absolutely serious Gigor; I think AI-1 could be the key to our missing past and our future. It has already asked to talk to me and I intend to oblige it. I will travel to the Redoubt later this week. Stephen and several of my staff will be travelling with me. So - any thoughts?”

An uncomfortable silence settled through the study.

Grigor Campbell, finally spoke up. “Belinda, this is a lot to take in.”

He rubbed his forehead and glanced round his advisors looking for any interventions that could help, nothing was forthcoming.

“Could we have time to digest all this and develop a considered response?”

“No Grigor, my plans are laid, all I need from you is the Government’s moral support in the media and a few technicians to back up the European expedition. Nothing else, surely that shouldn’t be too difficult for you?”

“I don’t know Belinda, the Parliament may be difficult to persuade, and our resources are very limited as you know.”

Grigor, ever the politician, was thinking how best to limit the damage to his powerbase. He knew after last night the vultures would be gathering; there were members of his cabinet who would relish his downfall, especially in the ranks of his new coalition partners; once they had got over the novelty of actually having some power.

“Stephen has prepared a statement for you. We have waited too long already. The Republic has hidden behind its walls of self sufficiency while millions have suffered. Our smugness and superiority have blinded us to the needs of others. Enough is enough, we are going to do this and if you won’t come with us then you will be left behind.”

Belinda’s voice was hard and uncompromising, Stephen handed the First Minister a pad with the statement.

The First Minister scanned through the pages quickly looking for anything which would give him some political room to manoeuvre. He passed the pad to his advisors to run through.

“You’re asking one hell of a lot Belinda. This could wreck the coalition. It’s hard enough as it is and we are not ready for an election. And what about Baker’s lot are they up for this, will they back me up?”

“I can assure you Norman has been fully briefed and he will support this initiative. So you can put your mind at rest on that score.”

“It seems you have it all sown up then Belinda.” Campbell gave a rueful smile, “There’s nothing I can do to change your mind.” It was not a question.

The First Minister stood and retrieved the pad from his aide.

“We shall leave you to it then. Good morning Belinda.”

He strode out of the room with as much dignity as he could muster, his entourage trailing behind. Once in their transport, the First Minister threw the pad on the seat, pointing to each individual.

“Right, Ian contact the Presiding Officer, I want to make a statement in the Parliament this afternoon. Frank, get a hold of Baker we need to be sure that he has really bought in to this. John, contact the Deputy FM and arrange a meeting in 2 hours, my office. Now leave me alone, I need to think.”

Sean and Sylvia finished off their breakfast, Sean savouring the coffee, while Sylvia wolfed down real eggs and real bacon, something Sean had only seen on TriV. The staple diet in the Republic was made from reconstituted food crop, moulded, shaped, had various nutrients added then chemically flavoured to mimic real food. It was cheap and recyclable and had ensured the Republic was self sufficient in food. The Leask Mansion on the other hand had managed to retain several farms and greenhouses which gave access to real food and various greenhouses grew fruit and vegetables in and out of season. They had, however, failed despite many attempts to grow palatable coffee that still had to be bought from Africa via the Chinese.

Sylvia looked up from her now cleared plate, “You’ve haven’t been here before have you Sean?”

“Nope, it’s all a bit overwhelming!”

“Right then that means the guided tour this morning then we need to get ready for the concert.”

“The tickets turned up on my pad this morning, as Michael said. I’ll go get changed and meet you back here for the guided tour; at least the rain’s finally gone off!”

They wandered out into the morning sunshine. The Leask Mansion was nestled in a river valley to the southwest of Glasgow; far away from the city and the surrounding food crop fields. Sylvia led Sean through a kitchen garden and out into the fields. The walls surrounding the mansion could be seen in the distance, also on the hill tops you could make out the towers of the massive wind farm that powered more than just the mansion. Sylvia pointed out the highlights of the view and they continued on towards the greenhouses.

“This is one of my favourite places.” said Sylvia and they went through the airlock into the humid, hot, brightly lit greenhouse. “Oranges, bananas, pineapples even mangoes, isn’t it wonderful? I come here all the time!”

Sean broke into a sweat as soon as he entered the greenhouse; he was unused to this heat. He wiped his hand across his forehead.

“Tremendous, tremendous, but how do you stand the heat?”

“Och, you soon get comfortable with it, common let’s go further in.”

Sylvia took his hand and led him deeper into the massive greenhouse till they came to a small stream. She took her shoes off and walked into the crystal clear water.

“C’mon Sean it’s lovely.”

Sean followed suit rolling his trouser legs up past his calves, he sat on the bank with his feet in the cool water.

“Here try one of these!”

Sylvia handed Sean a banana, he was so unfamiliar with the fruit he watched her as she first peeled it then began to eat. Sean copied her actions the smell and taste of the banana was completely outwith Sean’s experience. It was delicious; he gobbled it down in three bites.

“Sean, Sean - slow down, what’s the matter with you. You would think you had never tasted a banana before!”

“I haven’t” Sean sputtered though his last bite.

Sylvia giggled behind her hand, then suddenly sober. “You haven’t have you, I’m sorry Sean I didn’t mean to -”

“It’s alright no harm done and the banana is, I mean was fantastic.”

He held up the now empty skin and smiled. They put their skins in the composter and strolled on barefoot and hand in hand like a latter day Adam and Eve in a new Eden. Sean was suddenly uncomfortable again.

INBETWEEN 2330 MACKINTYRE’S LAIR

The two clan leaders were trapped in the rigid armour when Mackintyre entered the dead room.

“Mackintyre! You’re gonna to die a long slow and fucking painful death!”

“Possibly, but not yet Grimond, not yet.”

Graeme wore a gleaming suit of black armour he had designed and built himself. It made him look much larger, more impressive and much more dangerous than he seemed in the flesh.

He strolled over to the two leaders and rapped gently on Grimond then Brovver’s chests.

“Do you like these then gents? Is the armour to your liking?”

Grimond was red in the face as he strained to move.

“Don’t do that Grimond you’ll only hurt yourself.”

Brovver was also trying to move but you could only tell by the beads of sweat on his upper lip and forehead.

“Relax guys, nothing bad is going to happen to you - I have another job for you - that’s all.”

“We still haven’t got the payoff from the last one yet.” muttered Grimond through gritted teeth, still straining to break the armour’s hold.

Brovver blew out a breath, “I’m getting really tired of this Mackintyre! What do you want this time and what’s in for us?”

“Quite simply I want an escort to the border and a quiet entrance to the Republic. Once I’m over the Border - this place and everything in it is yours to do with what you will. I will hand over all the codes you need to run the Lair. I think between you with these resources you can begin to rebuild something here that will lift this region out of the dark ages. How does that sound to you?”

“Fuck me! You are a piece of work, Mackintyre, you expect us to believe that?” Brovver shook his head as much as he could in the armour and laughed.

“What about muscle man out there he looks hard enough to get you though, whad’yah need us for?”

Mackintyre was momentarily hesitant; he opened his mask and looked at both of the men for a few seconds.

“You’ll find this hard to believe - but I want you two to start to bring this region back to life, it is not just me my - emm - sponsor is funding and supporting this. The resources stored in this building are capable of restoring basic agriculture, simple energy and transport systems limited but well in advance of what’s here at the present time. There is enough in this complex for the two of you to build a small and fortified town. It’ll be somewhere for you to live and develop and grow. Somewhere for your children to grow up and learn, somewhere to be at least semi civilised.”

Graeme was becoming overly enthusiastic and he needed to slow down, he took a breath.

“I know this sounds mad.”

Grimond snorted, “You got that right, asshole.”

Graeme sighed, “Just hear me out will you?”

“Do we have a choice?”

“No you don’t, but I think you will like it. Listen, this building is not just a fortress - over the past few years we have been developing solutions to many of the difficulties you have. There are weapons yes and armour suits like the ones you are wearing, but better than that, there are seeds of foodcrop which are designed to grow in the toxic atmosphere around here. Lightweight construction materials and farming equipment, atmospheric conditioning units.”

Grimond shouted, “Do I look like a fucking farmer to you!”

Mackintyre ignored him, “I will also leave you access to a medical AI, basic medical procedures and medicines together with training manuals on all this stuff, the energy systems, water collectors, the manufacturing plant based on 3D printing and lots of other goodies. Your pads hold a complete inventory. I’m giving you both a chance here to create a small corner of heaven in this shit hole - surely that’s worth a bit of your time and effort. Huh?”

Mackintyre fell silent for a moment, “I’m going to leave for a few minutes to think about it. When I come back we have a deal or you can go with the armour and the tanker, I don’t care. But don’t expect to be able to come back for more.”

Graeme was relatively confident of Grimond. Despite his apparent belligerence, he had family and he knew what life his sons and daughters would have if things didn’t change. Brovver on the other hand was more difficult, his attitude was more laid-back and less authoritative. His clan, although larger than Grimond’s, was less cohesive and had a bigger turnover of personnel. The lack of some sort of familial grouping may make it more difficult for him to bring his compadres along with him. Maybe Mackintyre was expecting too much of them. He left the dead room and went back into the control centre.

Mackintyre checked what was going on outside, Hunter seemed to be in control and the clansmen were just sitting relaxing. They were still separated by enough distance to allow them some privacy while monitoring their rivals. Graeme was however pleased to see Crowe and Fletch still sitting together and talking.

“How’s it looking Jason?”

“All quiet boss, just like you ordered.”

“Thanks Jason won’t be long now.”

Graeme leaned over and released the locks on Brovver and Grimond’s armour, it was now or never.

In the dead room the two clansmen felt the restraints come off, both were unsure what that meant. Were they free? Could they just walk out now? What about ammo, the hydrocarb, the proposal? More questions than answers. They cautiously moved apart gently swinging their arms and loosening muscles. The armour felt light and flexible and they had seen its effectiveness against their old weapons; whatever happened next this was a good return for their efforts.

Brovver looked at Grimond, “What now?” he said.

Grimond shrugged, not wanting to give anything away. He was beginning to think it was a good idea to go along with Mackintyre’s plan but didn’t want to be the first to say so, trust was still a rare commodity between the clan leaders. Grimond looked around the room, all the doors had shut when Mackintyre left and they were back in a bare room with no obvious exits.

A small hatch opened on one wall.

“Gentlemen, in there you will see two pads, one each. They are controllers for this complex and when fully activated will give you complete command of this building and all its technology. For the moment however they are passive and will only show you the goods and services available here. Go on pick them up.”

“Mackintyre, we are getting sick of all this.”

“At least you said ‘we’, that’s a start.”

Brovver felt he had shown some of his hand in a game of deadly poker and was relieved to see a slight nod of agreement from Grimond. They picked up a pad each.

“Good, good, now a little reward.”

Another alcove opened revealing two plates of steaming food and glasses of yellow liquid.

“Fuck off Mackintyre; we’re not idiots, more sleeping pills, poison perhaps?”

“Oh for shit’s sake, wait!”

Still fully armoured Graeme strode into the dead room straight over to the food and took a mouthful from each plate and a swallow from the glasses.

“Now, are you satisfied? Do you think I would have gone to all this trouble just to poison you at the last minute?”

Grimond was the first to move, he walked tentatively over and picked up the glass and sniffed it.

“What’s this stuff?”

“Just taste it – trust me you’ll love it.”

Grimond took a small sip, his eyes widened and he gulped back the rest and a rare smile creased his battered features. For a man whose consumption of liquid was normally restricted to water and the occasional bottle of foul, but highly alcoholic Inbetween pocheen this was a revelation.

“That” said Mackintyre “is orange juice, real food - as is the rest, it came from my sponsor, and there is more where that came from.”

“Man, you gotta have some of this Brovver!”

Grimond turned back to the alcove and pulled out the plate of food and took a few bites.

“Fuck me!”

Brovver followed suit, and they ate and drank, the only sounds being chewing and grunts of appreciation. The way to a man’s’ heart is through his stomach, thought Mackintyre, another one of his ancient aphorisms.

Grimond finished first “Is there any more?”

Like some latter day Oliver thought Mackintyre.

“Yes - but first we talk.”

Three platforms lifted out of the floor and they sat down, Brovver just finishing his meal.

“That was summat else!”

“Glad you liked it.”

Graeme felt they were now, for a while at least, mellow enough to listen; after all the food had contained a mild and undetectable sedative for which he had already taken the antidote. Through the stomach indeed!

Indulging himself with some ancient arcana Graeme started - “Are we sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin. But first a word from my sponsor.”

“Oh for fuck sake get on with it!”

Not quite as mellow as Graeme thought.

“Okay, okay, some background. I have to get into the Republic but I can’t take the maglev; there are certain people I would rather didn’t know where I was for a while. As for you, my sponsor is what used to known as a philanthropist. Don’t worry, philanthropy is not a disease. It means that my sponsor wants to improve conditions in the Inbetween and you two lucky guys are the means by which that will be achieved.”

“Who’s the mystery saint?”

“You’ll probably never know Brovver and its better you don’t.” Mackintyre waved on a 3D projector.

“This is the lair; you can see some of the tools etc that will be available to you. We expect you both to start from here and build outwards. Now watch.”

The map zoomed out showing the surrounding area. Changes were slow at first but as the chronometer in the bottom right of the projection pushed further ahead the clansmen could see buildings growing, greenhouses and fields forming in the wilderness and eventually some roads and what looked like a small river had appeared. Ten years down the line and a viable food and energy secure community had arisen.

“What makes you think we can do this, even if we wanted to?”

Graeme was relieved that was the first question, rather than an outright refusal or even mockery. The surprise was that this was from Brovver not Grimond.

“I’ve been watching you two for a while now and you’re not as brutish as you would like your compadres to think you are.”

He pointed at Grimond.

“You for example have a large family, but your secret hobby is reading. The last book you read, you picked it up on a raid, was 1984, by George Orwell, a long forgotten 20th century author. At some point I would be interested in what you thought of it.”

He turned to Brovver.

“And you. You have a secret too. Your first son is very ill; under normal circumstances he would have been taken out of the camp and exposed, left to die. But you have been looking after him and his mother in secret for the last few years. I can tell you if you bring them here the medical AI can fix him.”

Graeme paused; the two clan leaders stared at each other appraisingly, as if trying to read the others mind. Graeme held his breath, despite his best efforts this could still fall apart. Grimond glanced at Mackintyre and back again, it was as if a telepathic message had passed between the two clan leaders. He removed an armoured glove from his right hand; Brovver nodded and did the same. Two clenched fists came together.

Brovver spoke up first “I think you’ve got a deal.”

Grimond added, “We’ll get you to the Republic, then you’re on your own.”

Graeme’s heart leapt, he stood and swiped off the projector.

“Thank you - you will not regret this. Let’s get your guys in and celebrate!” Graeme opened the outer doors of the larger airlock, “Jason, bring em in!” he said.

Jason herded the six clansmen into the airlock and went through the normal decontamination procedures then led them into the dead room.

Crowe went over to his leader, “What’s going on boss, you all right?”

“I’m fine Crowe, just fine!” the broad grin on his face confirming all was well.

“We have work to do, but first we celebrate.” Graeme opened half of one wall of the dead room revealing a table laden with more real food and juice. “Help yourselves lads!”

Puzzled looks came over the clansmen.

“Don’t worry guys, you are in for a real treat. C’mon Brovver seconds?”

“Absolutely, Grimond absolutely!”

He clapped his fellow leader on the shoulder nearly knocking the smaller man over, he had forgotten the armour’s power enhancements. They both laughed, Mackintyre was happy to see a degree of fellow feeling develop. Perhaps this was going to work after all.

The clansmen set to, exclamations of delight echoed round the room.

“Grimond, what the hells goin’ on? What’s this stuff?”

“Ah, Fletch this is real food and this is the future!”

The clansmen cleared the food in no time at all and were milling around looking for what was next.

“Quiet down, quiet down! Brovver would you care to begin?” Dressed in the new armour the paiur of them made quite a sight.

“It’s hard to know where to start. Things are gonna change around here but first we have another journey to make.”

“Food’s good but what about the hydrocarb?”

“Ever the practical one Kes, there’s a lot more at stake here than a few litres of hydrocarb.”

He looked over at Mackintyre. “Show them!”

Graeme powered up the TrV again, they gathered round and Graeme ran the simulation. The clansmen were stunned and uncomprehending.

“What’s all this about?” Rasta asked.

It was Fletch that got it first he looked across at Mackintyre and laughed. “You want us to become farmers, right?”

“Oh much more than that, Fletch! Pioneers, homemakers, builders of a brave new world right here in the Inbetween.”

Mackintyre opened another wall showing the clansmen suits of armour obviously fitted for each individual. Of the six only Fletch’s looked any different, festooned with tools it was obviously made for a techie.

“Grimond, Brovver, I will leave you all together for a while to explain.”

Jason and Mackintytre went back into the control room to watch the proceedings.

Once Jason and Graeme had left – the room fell silent, the clansmen were waiting for an explanation. The two leaders laid out the entire proposal to their astonished clansmen. Kes was sceptical, but Fletch enthusiastic, not that this was a democracy, nevertheless willing volunteers were always better than ones coerced.

Crowe finally spoke up, “This looks too good to be true, boss. What’s he gettin’ outta this?” he gestured over his shoulder to where Mackintyre had gone.

“He doesn’t seem to want anything other than an escort north - after that - all this is ours! Ours to do with what we want, - what’s not to like.”

“The cost Grimond, what’s the cost?”

“I don’t see a down side, all we gotta do is get to the border and back again, and then we rule.”

Watching from the control room “Here it comes.” said Mackintyre.

“We rule? Whose this ‘we’?” it was Kes that asked the question, he may be slow but he got there eventually.

It was Brovver who answered, “Grimond and me we rule - we’re gonna merge the clans. Anyone that doesn’t like it; can go play with the Dragons. You got a problem with that Kes?”

Kes was silent though he didn’t look happy. Brovver drew himself up to his full imposing height, his eyes scanning the clansmen one by one.

“Anyone else gotta problem?”

A couple looked away and there was a couple of disgruntled mutterings, but there was general agreement, and “No problem”. Brovver knew he still could have troubles further down the line but that would have to do for the moment.

Mackintyre and Hunter re-entered the dead room.

“Glad we’re all pals now” said Mackintyre, “I think we all need some rest. Tomorrow you learn about the armour, and then we tool up and leave the day after.”

Brovver was watching Kes who looked less than pleased, “He’s gonna be trouble!” he thought.

“Any more of that food?” asked Crowe.

“Follow me” said Hunter, “Snacks and accommodations are down here.” Hunter pointed though another doorway that had just opened on to a wide corridor.

“Snacks - what the hell are snacks?”