A gasp of awe went through the crowd. This was no lantern. It was much too bright. No, this was an Old World light. It was using electricity.
The crowd began murmuring loudly. Some people started retreating back toward the exits. Some started pushing and shoving.
“Don’t worry!” Bartz said into the bullhorn. “You’re safe here. If you try to leave people will get hurt.”
“Are you mad?’ Madison said, hobbling aggressively over to Bartz. “I thought there might be some code violations but this is obscene. You know the use of technologies emitting electromagnetic radiation is prohibited. Not only that, but you have put all these people, including us, in harm’s way. Turn it off before the retchers come, or we’ll have you arrested.”
Madison waved the document above her head vigorously. “And don’t think for a second you’ll be able to get us to sign the ridiculous waste of paper you put in our laps. This business of you making the amendment retroactive is preposterous. It means you can essentially absolve yourself of any crimes you have already committed, many of which we know nothing about.”
She then wagged a finger at the rest of the lords and lectured them. “When leaders absolve themselves of their own sins, government has ceased being a democracy.”
As she finished, she could see Bartz’s smile had grown wide. The smile was not one born of a simple conversational habit, nor political pandering. It was something more. He wasn’t being a chameleon. He was showing his true colors. He was gloating, and he didn’t care who knew it. “But you see honorable Lord Banks, we’ve done nothing wrong. Thorpe, the contracts please.”
Thorpe pulled out a number of documents and handed them over to Madison, one at a time. She could see they were the modified Developer Rights Amendment she’d been perusing in the chariot ride over, with one important difference, they had been signed by the other lords—all of them except Lord Henneson.
“One, two, three, four signed amendments. The majority of lords seem to disagree with you,” Bartz said.
It was staggering, and for a moment she almost lost her footing. Prakash and Kline looked down, as if embarrassed or ashamed. Meeker stood with his comfortable stoicism, implacable to her words. Henneson was standing back, shaking his head in abject despair. She had underestimated Bartz but also greatly misjudged many of her fellow councilors. They were either completely ignorant or morally bankrupt.
“But the retchers, they will come. You know they will.” Madison warned, her voice faltering. “It will be pandemonium. If there is any exposure in that block, beyond that light at the top, I imagine more than one, maybe even a flock of them.”
“Yes, we are counting on it,” Bartz said. “Not the pandemonium, of course, but a large number of retchers.”
Madison opened her mouth but had no words to say. She’d been routed by this man, by these people, and there was no recovery.
Just then, the blue light at the top of the cubic structure went out. There was a lull in the crowd, and many people stopped leaving. Then, swooping in from the sky, like a large black dart cutting through the air, came a retcher.
People screamed and began running quickly for the exits. In most places, the railroad men were calming them down or holding people back. In one case, the railroad men were overrun, and people were leaving the stadium in a panic.
Meanwhile the retcher had landed on the cubic block. It was bigger than Madison imagined, about four feet tall and rigid with muscle and sinew under it’s black feathers.
“Everyone watch!” Bartz yelled into the bullhorn with authority. “There is nothing to fear!”
The retcher immediately vomited its acidic bile on the blue light, melting it down.
Then the retcher waddled its bird-feet over to the side of the cube. It dropped into the air, hovered for a moment and circled the cube several times, looking for an opening. Then it launched itself into one of the circular indentations, and began clawing and vomiting acidic bile on the surface with no visible effect.
All of a sudden, out of the sides of the indentation came an array of blades, impaling the retcher on both flanks. These blades retracted, and then out of the top and bottom two monoliths of concrete came together, flattening the retcher.
Acidic bile and blood sprayed over the cube. Black feathers from the pulverized creature floated down. It toppled out of the indentation and fell to the ground several stories below. One of the retcher’s wings fluttered in spasm, but the other wasn’t working. The retcher ceased moving.
Some in the crowd gasped, and those streaming out halted their progress. Some reentered to see what was going on.
Another black pole extended out of a hidden aperture in the top of the structure. Another blue light illuminated.
The crowd quieted again as everyone’s eyes returned to the skies. Several minutes passed, and then again the light went out. This time, three retchers came in from three different directions. The din of the crowd increased, but they were more subdued than before, and no one was in a panic—no one was leaving.
The first retcher to arrive easily melted down the light pole and then circled the structure. The other two arrived and circled the structure with the first. Two of them broke off their orbit and entered one of the circular indentations. The other entered the indentation on the opposing side and went to work scratching and vomiting.
All three were mulched by same process; blades first, then flattened. Only one seemed to survive. It was on the ground, severely maimed and unable to fly. It limped around in a circle until railroad men came out with mallets to finish it off.
Another light pole was erected and illuminated in brilliant blue. This time, the crowd cheered when the light came on.
“People of Seeville!” Bartz yelled into the bullhorn. “This blue light you see shining resiliently before you shall forever be known as the Lamp of Liberty. When we are sure all the retchers have been destroyed, we will erect these across town, so you know you no longer have to fear these vile angels of darkness, so the path of progress will be well lit.”
Madison finally knew what the structure was. They had effectively built a retcher destroyer. How many retchers were out there, she couldn’t be sure, but she suspected they would be able to clear out any in the Seeville area. Then they could re-ignite old electrical networks. Then they could rebuild the Old World infrastructure without fear of retcher attacks.
She wanted to protest. She wanted to reveal who the real puppet master was behind the scenes, and what its real motivations were. Most of all it galled Madison that the railroad would brand the lights Lamps of Liberty. Liberty was a word sacred to her—a word held in high esteem by the New Founders—and they were bastardizing it. The only thing they were liberating was a demon. A demon that had destroyed one civilization, and could easily destroy their own in a heartbeat—a demon they were now freeing from its Faraday cage prison.
But she knew now was not the time. The lords had made their choice, and to defy Bartz was to defy the cheering mob of Seeville citizens at his back. Her words would be lost in the brisk winds of change, whatever their weight.
A quote floated to the top of her mind, one that referred to liberty in the proper context, without this perversion and manipulation. The quote was from a letter to William Smith from Thomas Jefferson, referring to their rebellion against the English monarchy. He had written, “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.”
It was to this they would now have to turn. They had no choice but to resort to violence. And the likening of Bartz and his men to manure seemed particularly fitting.