Mars Needs Books!. Gary Lovisi

first. The germ had to be planted, and nurtured, ideas had to be kept alive and spread. She had to be careful and plan for the long haul. She was good at planning. She took a long overview of the present situation. It was grim. Earth was out as a source. It was too tightly controlled and monitored. The people had been too deeply neutered. But Mars was another story. It might be the perfect place. It was a world full of incorrigible, pain-in-the-ass troublesome men, all non-conforming individuals.

      Mars might just do the trick!

      She realized it was necessary for her to now assume leadership of the Department of Control. As much as she hated the very thought of it, she must assume control of this monster Simon had created. She must keep the DOC and Authority in place, maintaining order, even as she planned to crash it all down into the dust heap of history on one fine glorious future day.

      First she’d have to get rid of Simon’s body. The evidence of her crime, if discovered, would surely doom her and all her plans if discovered. Then she had to construct a story to explain her assuming control of the DOC. She realized that here, in this type of organization, a rumor might work best. A rumor from Simon’s own office, presumed to be from Simon himself. It would be an order for her to assume daily control of the DOC. The only person who reported directly to Him. It would require her to monitor all departments, oversee all personnel, give orders and decrees in Simon’s name to the leadership and all the staff. Holograms of Dear Old Simon would help. Thus she would become the impenetrable layer between Simon and the DOC. And all would obey, or else. Then, for all intents and purposes, as far as anyone at the DOC knew, the new realignment would be in place. She never used the word coup, but such intent might be implied. It would never be whispered openly. DOC secrets remained secret.

      Simon was out.

      Arabella Rashid was in.

      And that was that! The new order of things continued seamlessly.

      The King was dead, long live the Queen.

      Everyone throughout the vast bureaucracy of the DOC, the worldwide governmental Authority and the various security districts they controlled, would accept the fact. The new reality was indisputable—or disputable at your peril. Questions, she knew, that would never be asked.

      But first to dispose of Simon’s body. That bit of physical evidence, the evidence of murder, had to disappear. Forever. It had to be done correctly and quietly. And she realized that here, she needed help.

      The only person she could think of to call for such a duty was another of the clones, the one by the name of James Ryan. She thought it strange that she remembered his name and image so clearly now from an earlier life. She began to wonder just what Simon and the DOC had done to her memories. Had Simon, in fact programmed her? Had he told her the truth? Was she even now, somehow, following his orders? Orders that were not her own? The thought chilled her and she immediately dismissed it—but doubt still nagged at a dark place in the back of her thoughts for she knew Simon and his evil ways only too well. So questions only posed more questions.

      Arabella Rashid placed the appropriate request for Ryan in the usual manner, as if Simon himself was still the Director. It was an order no one would ignore, an order that must be obeyed immediately upon pain of terrible consequences.

      * * * *

      James Ryan heard the call and obeyed. He quickly put the old paperback book he had been reading back in his pocket and stood attentive and waited. Soon two DOC officers approached him and he was told to immediately take the private elevator up to the Director’s personal level.

      The mansion-like edifice atop the World Tower was a maze of a hundred luxuriously appointed suites of various size and function. Ryan was lead along cold chrome hallways by armed replicant DOC house staff, bodyguards in essence, former DOC shock troops who had proven their value and loyalty. He was brought before two huge engraved wooden doors—they looked as if they had been taken from some ancient cathedral in old Europe—and then he was told to wait once more.

      Ryan sweated, fearful, as he tucked the old paperback—a forbidden and subversive media—down his pants and hoped it would not be discovered. He wasn’t obsessively concerned about it now—for being called to the Director’s office was much more serious and potentially deadly than anything that could result from being discovered with some old book. Be it forbidden or not. He tried to calm himself as he waited, but the fear was roaming inside him wild and bright and it threatened to push him into full panic mode. However, Ryan held himself firm and kept his nerve. He waited and he prayed, not knowing what would befall him in the Director’s office on the other side of that ancient engraved doorway.

      When the wooden doors automatically opened, Ryan was ordered to enter the room. He took a few hesitant steps forward and went inside. The guards did not follow him. That in itself seemed odd, and made him curious. Then the doors suddenly slammed shut behind him with a resounding boom, and James Ryan thought it was just like the sound of doom.

      “You can come, James Ryan. I will not bite you,” a young woman’s voice—she actually sounded like a girl or teenager—said with forced friendliness from above him through a hidden speaker. She did sound young, maybe just a girl at that. Strange. Ryan didn’t know what to think or what to expect. He would have been surprised at how young Arabella Rashid really was, had he been able to see her. Young in appearance and years certainly, but not in experience and intent. In fact, he had no idea how formidable and dangerous this wisp of a girl could be when it became necessary.

      Ryan moved forward as instructed, one more tentative step deeper into the Director’s sanctum, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light. He couldn’t see a woman, or girl anywhere, to connect to the voice he’d heard, but he did see an old, white-haired man slumped over a long circular console of screens and monitors. These flickered with the light of various images as scenes shifted; showing what appeared to be selected surveillance locations in the building, the city and around the planet. It was amazing, here was the control center...for everything.

      “James Ryan?”

      “Yes,” Ryan replied nervously.

      “I have work for you,” the voice said in a tone that brooked nothing but obedience. Ryan was sure now that it was indeed the voice of a young girl, a teenager most likely—certainly not a woman. Most strange, he thought, but he was wise to keep his curiosity to himself and his mouth shut.

      His only reply was, “Yes.”

      “I am the Director of the Department of Control,” her voice proclaimed with a matter-of-factness he immediately accepted. “Simon is no more. There lies what it is left of his mortal remains. You will dispose of the body as per my instructions.”

      James Ryan didn’t know what to say or even think. This was incredible and explosive. He took a quick look at the body of the old man slumped at the desk. So quiet, so peaceful, so dead.... Ryan nodded, looked down and said, “Sure.”

      He waited, there was no response from the girl’s voice.

      Then he looked over at the corpse of the old white-haired man once again. So that was Simon. The monster himself, or so rumor went. He, like all who were part of the organization, feared the legendary Director of the DOC. Ryan took a deep breath and released it slowly, hoping to calm down. Hardly anyone inside the organization ever saw the man in the flesh, and certainly no one outside the DOC had ever heard his name.

      Ryan smiled, so this had been the feared Director he had heard so many rumors about. The man legend said was the most evil man in the world, and the most dangerous. He didn’t look so deadly now....

      But if he was dead? Then this girl...?

      “I am the Director now,” the mysterious girl’s voice said from the secrecy of some overhead speaker, and Ryan’s attention was brought back to reality and his particularly uncomfortable and dangerous place in it. For he realized now that as bad as the rumors about Simon had been, it now appeared that he had somehow been overthrown or murdered by this woman—this girl. If such was the case, then how much more dangerous and deadly must she be than the man she had replaced?

      Much more ruthless. Much