The Boy Who Fell from the Sky by Jule Owen (grave mercy .TXT) 📕

Her large hands no longer look awkward; they fly across the keys, so fast and fluidly it is barely possible to see them. The span of her hands reaches across unfeasible distances. Her arms are bare, and Mathew notices for the first time how muscled they are. A strand of hair breaks away from the bundle upon her head and falls on her shoulder. She doesn’t even seem to notice. Her face wears an extraordinary expression of peaceful concentration. She is somewhere else, lost in her head, and the concert hall and the audience have disappeared for her. He recognises the experience of being transported by an utterly absorbing task; he has felt it himself. He watches the whole thing; but it is just one piece, and too soon the holofilm clip ends. 

Still in his seat, he uses an encrypted script to open Charybdis, the main software portal to the Blackweb. His mother doesn’t know he accesses the Blackweb in the house. It’s not exactly illegal, but it’s the sort of thing she would class as dangerous, not least because the government propaganda endlessly bangs on about how insecure it is and how much criminal activity happens on it. Mathew doesn’t believe the propaganda, not all of it anyway. 

The Blackweb is the alternative Internet, created on a matrix of independent networks. The authorities find it harder to snoop on than the Nexus. It was founded by people who didn’t want the web to be entirely under corporate and government control. The establishment says those rich enough to launch satellites to provide an alternative Internet infrastructure must be criminals, which is probably partly true. People on the Blackweb say corporates and governments own the Nexus, and everything people do on it is watched and recorded. His mother wouldn’t approve of what he is planning to watch. 

He initiates Psychopomp. 

A seated figure appears in the centre of the Darkroom, hands on its lap, feet flat on the floor, head bowed. It has the head of a donkey. Not a pantomime donkey but a real living, breathing donkey, with rotating ears reacting to sudden noises, long eyelashes, and huge black eyes. Its body is human: a young woman. She is called Nicola Bottom, although it isn’t her real name. 

There are sometimes other commentators, including a man called the Snout, sporting a pig’s head, who’s famous for leaking state information and exposing corruption; a rabbit-headed girl called Snug; a skinny, tall man of indeterminate age with the head of a starling, called Starveling. There is also a commentator who wears Venetian style masks or whose many faces are masks – it’s difficult to tell which, if any, are real. His name is Peter Quince, and he does political satire and exposes personal hypocrisy and corruption. Along with the Snout, he is the main reason Psychopomp is always moving its headquarters and has a complex system of access. It’s the subject of innumerable undefended lawsuits. No one knows who the Psychopomp are. Their critics often complain about their theatricals, saying it undermines their message, but Mathew, like many others, thinks it’s part of their appeal. 

Nicola Bottom is wearing a summer dress, white plimsolls, and ankle socks. She raises her eyes, and it feels to Mathew like she is staring him directly in the eye, addressing him personally. “Today we have an exclusive interview with Cadmus Silverwood, leader of the Garden Party,” she says. 

Cadmus Silverwood magically appears from nowhere in a chair next to the donkey girl. He is a silver-haired man, thin and spry-looking, his face youthful although he’s in his eighties. Hardly anyone seems old anymore; no one stoops or shuffles, and no one gets dementia. There are members of the House of Lords and CEOs well over a hundred years of age, but then some people joke that this was always the case, at least in their attitudes.

“Cadmus, thank you for joining us.”

“A pleasure,” he says, not in the least disconcerted by the idea of talking to a half-donkey in a dress. 

“You were not always a politician.”

“I don’t like to think of myself as a politician now, to be honest.”

“But you lead a political party, and you nearly won a general election. Some people say, you did win a general election, but the vote was rigged. What are you, if you’re not a politician?”

“A frustrated man, father, scientist, citizen of the world, who wouldn’t stand on the sidelines any longer. I spent many years being angry with governments and their policies, puzzled about why no one was doing anything. Then I woke one morning and realised I couldn’t reasonably expect others to solve problems I wasn’t willing to deal with myself.”

“And what is frustrating you?”

“An age-old thing – the inevitable ascendancy of the rich and powerful, the one-sided battle to protect their interests at the expense of the rest of us.”

“You say this is an age-old inevitable thing. Why do you think things will change now?”

“I have to believe, because of what is at stake. It used to be human lives and morality at stake, now it’s all life on the planet. We’re facing the extinction of human life.”

“You think it will come to that?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“Wow. Okay. I want to know why you think that, but first can we take a step back? 

We’d like to hear the story of your life before you founded the Garden Party and why you think you’re qualified to say these things?”

“Years ago, I worked for NASA. My work there led me to become a climate scientist, gradually being dragged into policy meetings with international institutions, trying to get commitments to a reduction in the global dependence on fossil fuels and greenhouse gas emissions.”

The donkey says, “That’s top of mind for everyone right now, as this is the fourth time London has been flooded in ten years. Floodwaters are not retreating from increasingly large areas of southern England. The US, Europe, and major coastal cities around the world, including Shanghai, have suffered similar fates. This summer, the US was hit again and again by mega hurricanes on the Gulf Coast and Eastern Seaboard, and we’ve experienced unprecedented super storms in Europe, plus other extreme weather, including severe droughts and water shortages. 

“But our leaders claim it is all in hand. They have given tax breaks to various private initiatives investing billions in carbon fixation technologies, artificial induction systems, and precipitation control. They say this policy is a great success.”

Cadmus interrupts, “Forgive me, but I wonder if any of the people made homeless last week after years of promises feel like things are under control? Many of the technologies the government has poured billions into may actually be making things worse. The problem is we simply don’t know.”

“And what is your solution?”

“Adapt. Stop pouring money down the drain trying to defend cities and towns inevitably to be drowned. Retreat and build for what we know is coming in the future: even more extreme weather, sea level rise, more storms, rain, heat, water shortages, crop failures.” 

“And you’re not against fusion power, GM food, or even lab-grown food?”

“Not at all. We need to leverage all our human strengths to survive into the future, including technology and innovation. We are technological animals. We need electricity. We need food. Given what has happened to the climate and to our water supply and the population, we simply cannot sustain people using naturally grown food. People will starve if we rely on traditional agriculture.”

“Isn’t Elgol experimenting with traditional agriculture?”

“Elgol is my wife’s project, not mine, but you will find a range of technologies being trialled there. You have to understand, we have a different agenda from the corporations producing food, energy, and managing the environment. We aren’t driven by profit. We are driven by the desire for our species to survive and to live as harmoniously as possible within the complex systems comprising our world. Because we are not driven by profit, we do not drive innovations to market before they are properly tested. We don’t make claims for our products beyond their capabilities. We don’t use technologies we even suspect may be harmful to humans, to other living creatures, or to the environment.”

“Let’s turn to the election. Your party took a case to court, claiming evidence there was widespread vote rigging, corruption, and coercion.”

“I’m afraid I’m unable to comment.”

“Why?”

“Because the court not only ruled in the Universal Popular Party’s favour, it issued an injunction against me, which stipulates I can’t speak of this matter in public.”

“Some people say the judges who heard the case were bought.”

“I’ve no comment on what others said or say. I will be violating the injunction if I talk.”

“You will be arrested?”

“Yes.”

“We have reports saying you’re being watched. You are under effective house arrest.”

“I try to live my life as normal, but yes, I do have an unofficial armed guard – but none of us have any privacy anymore. Every communication channel is being intercepted.”

“Not this one.”

“Of course this one, from time to time. Some of us get away with privacy if we have the right technology, know-how, and luck, but it’s becoming harder and harder. When the government introduces its new national biological identity system . . .”

“This is the bioID passport? In the run-up to the debate on bioIDs, the government hailed them as a great step forward and said they will make life more convenient: fewer queues when travelling across borders; less financial fraud, as you will able to use it as authentication for your bank account, to get paid and pay bills, and manage all digital accounts. You will even be able to use it as the means of security for your house. Why is this a bad thing?”

“The government is made of men. All men are frail. You should never give all your power to another human being. If we allow this thing to happen, it will mean no person in this country will have a private moment from this day forward. The minute you displease anyone happening to be in authority, you are at risk of becoming persona non grata. Your bioID will literally be marked. When they introduce this, the government will be able to track your movements day and night. Combined with what is already being tracked about you through your medibot, it will know everything about you. It will know where you go, who you talk to, what you say, what you watch, what you read, and how you feel about it.”

“But medibot data is private, according to the terms and conditions of the agreement with Panacea.”

Cadmus laughs, “Panacea has been passing people’s medical data to the government for years.” 

“That may be so, but having a full bioID is still a long way off, surely? The bill to introduce it was only just rejected in Parliament.”

“It will happen anyway. We’re heading for war, and when that happens, the government will declare a state of emergency. With its new powers, it will steam-roller in the legislation to turn you into a node on a network . . .”

“Why do you say we’re heading for war?”

“All the signs have been there for a long time. The Japanese have fixed their gaze beyond their own geography and population in order to get the resources they need to remain preeminent in the world economy. They have been economically and politically aggressive in their region for years – especially in China and Korea. The Chinese have naturally resented this, and there is, of course, historical animosity there, as well. The Americans have done what they always do and have agitated against the Chinese in order to maintain, depending on