Saving the Cyber Soaps, Mike Morris [story books to read TXT] 📗

his small band could deploy, and I assumed that, whatever else, Jonesy had enough guts to call my weak bluff. But, surprisingly, he held his peace. He was nervous, jumpy, and I remembered him, twenty floors up, his back to the vast geometry of Chicago, out of his element. It was the same now, and his eyes flicked nervously from Stretch to Tractor, to the other monstrosities that Dr Payne had created. I realized that this was how he saw them – frighteningly different - monstrous, evil. Jonesy and his kind could never accept the Topsiders, let alone the Cyborgs who I knew as individual human beings despite their appearance. They were terrified, and they would never again emerge from their underground burrows.
I stepped away from him. “Where’s Dee,” I demanded. “Take me to her, or I’ll tell them” I nodded towards the half-men, “to tear you apart.” He crumbled then. Surrounded by demons, all he wanted to do was get back to his warm, safe underground chamber.
“She’s fine,” he started.
“She’d better be.” I cut him off. “I want to see her now, and the boys are coming with me.”
We made an interesting tableau as we traveled to the heart of the Warren, inward and down to where the vast underground enterprise was run. Workers and executives gawped at us from hot little offices, and I realized how much I had changed. Not too long ago, this was the depth of luxury, and though I had denied it, even to myself, this is what I had wanted and thought I deserved. The offices got bigger and gaudier and more smoke-filled, and the half-men stared at the pert little half-undressed secretaries as we moved towards Dees’ quarters. Then Jonesy turned down a side corridor and I grabbed his arm. “We had to lock her up,” he said, “for her own good.” John grabbed my arm, and Lawrence murmured soothingly, and, with an effort I calmed down.
Her cell was comfortable enough, a suite of offices with a private bathroom and locks and alarms on every door. She ran to me and was in my arms before I noticed the black eye. “I’m sorry I got you into this, William,” she said. “You should have stayed up there.” Her eyes widened as she took in Lawrence and Molly and the cyborgs, crowding in behind Jonesy and his securities. “Let me introduce you to some friends of mine,” I said.
A couple of hours later I had told Dee about our adventures and we were in the Boardroom, seated around an oak table that looked as big and solid as a battleship. Dee and Lawrence and I faced Jonesy and ten of the twelve directors. The other two, supporters of Big Dee were ‘unavailable’ Jonesy declared. In the stifling confines of the lower reaches of the Warren, Jonesy was in his element, arrogant and confident. Only the presence of the Cyborgs, scattered amongst his securities, kept a precarious balance. We were negotiating armistice, not quite surrender.

CHAPTER 13 – Of Moles and Morons
Big Dee was magnificent. She laid out her vision for them all to hear. We would share our technology with the Topsiders, work together as equals, start to look outwards again, and upwards towards the stars. They didn’t hear a word. Jonesy sat like a rock, eyes blank as she spun her tale of hope and change. Pretty soon they’d begin to fidget, and Jonesy would decide to make a move and it would be all over. Big Dee stood no chance of converting these zombies. She paused for a drink of water and I stood up.
“It’s not working, Dee,” I said. “I guess Jonesy’s been too clever for us.” Dee and Jonesy looked at me in amazement. “Oh,” I said casually, “with these boys,” nodding at the Cyborgs, we could probably do a lot of damage; maybe even fight our way out of here.” I paused. “But even with our superior numbers and weapons we’d be hard put to keep a lid on this place.” I couldn’t believe that Jonesy was listening to this nonsense, but he was staring at me hard, paranoia showing. I could almost see his vision of a vast conspiracy of superhuman Cyborgs, poised and ready to tunnel into his little empire. I glanced at Dee, who was looking at me in horror. “Give us an hour,” I said, “and we’ll get back to you with a proposal that we can all live with.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!” she yelled at me in the antechamber. “You, of all people, I trusted. You want to sell out to them, you bastard.”
Surprisingly, it was Lawrence who came to my rescue. “I sold you out,” he said. “Years ago.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and I felt a twinge of jealousy. “You’ve been down here too long, Dee. There aren’t many people like you. A lot of the Moles want to stay underground. They’re like Jonesy, terrified. It doesn’t matter how right you are, they’re not ready to come out of the burrow, and probably never will be.” He faced both of us. “And there’s something neither of you seems to have thought of. I’ve been Topside for five years, now, and they don’t like you – us. They feel as threatened by you, and your science, and your money as Jonesy does by the Cyborgs, and the open space above ground.” He shook his head. “Dee, what you need to do is tell them that we need to confer with the City authorities. Maybe we can bluff the Directors and get out of here.”
Dee looked at us both. “Then what.” She stroked my face. “William, you told me he’s training an army up there, and building weapons down here.” She shook her head. “It seems as if I lost the battle years ago. Lawrence is right. I’ve been down here much too long.” She stretched and paced the small room. “I can’t just leave them, though. This is my fault, in a way.” I started to protest, and tried to hold her, but she waved me away, strong even in defeat. “You can see, both of you, that I have to stay and fight, even if I have no chance. Dammit, I wish there was another way.”
“You know,” I said. “If there was a vote, possibly five, six hundred would jump at the chance to go Topside, and maybe twice that number would follow later.” I looked at Lawrence. “That would be enough for a small, self-sufficient organization, out in the suburbs, with some help from the Topsiders. And we wouldn’t be a threat to anyone.”
“What makes you think Jones and the Directors will allow us to just get up and go,” Dee asked skeptically.
“Jonesy,” I said. “He’s the only one that counts. What if we offer to move out with all the rebels and malcontents, the people he can’t control? What if we tell him that he’s won, that we’ll get out of his way?”
“What are we going to do with a bunch of rebels and malcontents?” Lawrence asked dubiously.
“They’re the only ones that count,” I told him. You know who will want to come with us?”
“The people with some creativity left,” Dee interrupted. “The ones with vision and new ideas. With the vision and new ideas that we stifle down here. The best writers, some of the actors.”
“The scientists,” I added. “Doctors, engineers, sociologists, architects.” I took a deep breath. “If we work it right, we can swing most of the scientists working on his weapons. He won’t even realize until they’ve gone. He’ll have his army of securities, his shuttles and his bombs. But he won’t have what counts, the brains that made them, the ideas that improved them.” I was warming to the idea. “Do either of you see any other way?”
It was easier than we thought. Jonesy was obsessed with his empire under the ground. We all knew that most of the Moles would want to stay in the safety of the Warren, and Jonesy was certain that he could build up his army and remain invulnerable. He figured he could get us out of his hair, and deal with us as soon as he was good and ready.
We spread the word that the Chicago Warren was going to set up a Topside division, and Jonesy spread the word that anyone who joined us would have no more future in the underground Warren. Some of the best writers signed up with Dee, and from the beginning we practiced a kind of electoral triage, concentrating on the minority who could still accept change. Dee asked the head of our medical research division to look at the Cyborgs to see if anything could be done for them, and he refused, muttering something about ‘creatures of the Devil.’ Dee told him to go to Hell, and we added another powerful enemy to our list. His young assistant and a few doctors joined us, and we moved our quarters up a few floors to accommodate them. Jonesy gloated that we’d all get nosebleed if we moved any higher.
The next month was a cross between an election rally, a referendum, and a volunteer drive, as we tried to spread the word, hampered by the securities, constantly moving our quarters upwards. For the last week we were near the surface, in draughty and decrepit quarters, but surprisingly few people gave up and left, and we began bleeding equipment out of the Warren and trucking it to the suburb where I had met the late Dr Payne.

CHAPTER 14 – Tomorrow
In the end, we numbered over seven hundred, and we set off in our air-conditioned electric trucks, with enough concentrated food to last a month. It was early summer, and it felt wonderful to be in the fresh air again. Only a few complained about bugs and breezes and the absence of tablecloths and cocktail parties. These few wandered back to the Warren, and within twenty-four hours we had jury-rigged a studio and were broadcasting good solid news material to Chicago and other cities. Lawrence and John Doe went off to re-occupy the city manager’s office and to root out Jonesy’s troops, and the following day we received a visit from the Mayor and the Chief of Police. John was with them, and he didn’t look too happy as we all sat down for a conference.
The Mayor was a craggy Irishman, who looked like everyone’s grandfather, if you discounted the broken nose and wrestlers shoulders. The Chief looked pretty well the same, with the addition of a long scar on his cheek. It was obvious from the start that these men had not reached the top of the tree by being charming and photogenic. The Mayor came straight to the point. “This is City property. If you want to live here, you have to pay taxes and rent.”
“I love you, too,” I murmured and the Chief glared at me.
“We’re not generating any income, yet,” Dee said gently. “We’ve already offered whatever help and services we have. Look,” she pointed out of the window of the modest building that we were still repairing. “We’re not living much better than your citizens. You both know we can help each other.” She paused. “And you both know that, given a chance we can generate enough income to pay any reasonable rent and taxes you want.”
The Mayor looked uncomfortable, and the Chief pursed his lips. “You’re a Mole,” he said. “Until a few days ago, you headed up the Chicago Warren. If you got thrown out without feathering your nest beforehand, you’re a fool.”
“You want us to line your pockets, so you can..” I started to say, angrily, and the Chief held me in an