"No. I do not. But I do believe if that world continues, both races, physiological and Neuro Neurological, will decline-to what end I cannot predict."

There was brief, muted discussion among the members, and then a summary judgment.

"Justin Cord will have council protection until deemed unnecessary," said the leader. "We thank you both for your time."

With that the chambers disappeared around Evelyn and Sebastian.

"Until the next time then," Evelyn said, smiling.

"Until the next time," answered Sebastian as they both disappeared into the infinite portals of the Neuro.

10 The Coming Storm

Sean Doogle was finally at peace. He'd written his will and prepared his last testament to be broadcast after his demise. Cassandra, his information system analyst and occasional lover, had sworn to him that his dying wishes would be transmitted at the best possible time. He chose the room of his death carefully, insuring he'd not only be alone, but also carrying nothing of informational value. His last act before leaving was to have all his personal codes and passwords changed-out of his eyesight. Other than Cassandra, he said good-bye to no one, and disappeared into the suburbs and slipped quietly into a rented, fixed house. While there he made a typical upload to the Neuro with yet another powerful diatribe against incorporation, but this time he did so manually. His finger hovered over the disconnect button on his DijAssist, and in an act of suicide as final as jumping off a building or shooting himself in the head, he did not press it.

The whole of Confederation Plaza was filled with people ... waiting. It almost had the air of a festival, but of one far more subdued. There were vendors selling everything from food and trinkets to sonic shower bags and privacy tents. If asked, many would say they were there simply to catch a glimpse of Justin Cord, Neela, Hektor, or any of the celebrities who'd managed to secure seats for the event. But for the most part, they were there to be a part of history. As it was, every hotel room was booked solid, and the Geneva police, for the first time in living memory, were having to enforce the seldom needed and rarely used public safety laws.

Inside the court the trial was about to begin. The room itself was in the shape of a large auditorium. The bench seating could and did hold hundreds of spectators. The five justices would take seats at the bottom of the well around a semicircular conference table facing the spectators. The prosecution and defense teams were already at their tables in front of where the justices would sit. Unlike the old Supreme Court of the United States, all participants in this drama were seated at the same level.

Justin looked over at the government's prosecution team. He wasn't surprised to see Janet Delgado, head of GCI's vaunted Legal department, sitting with the prosecution. Manny had told him that the government had requested her for the trial, and that she'd been given a leave of absence to honor that request. This was a major change from Justin's time. If Sony Ltd. had lent the Justice Department a lawyer for a major case, the scandal would have been enough to destroy a presidency. But in this millennium it was apparently done often. In fact, it was openly admitted that the government did not attract the best or most competent people. As a consequence, government could and did ask for the temporary help of the private sector on different occasions. This allowance had made Manny's job far more difficult and Justin's prospects worse. It didn't help that Janet Delgado was looking at Justin and Manny with undisguised pleasure. If hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Justin was willing to bet that the corporate culture had no fury like a powerful female executive of the most powerful corporation in history publicly humiliated. Janet had the look of a warrior who would not be bested a second time.

Everyone quieted down as the five justices entered the large chamber. As the group approached the bench, Justin saw a black robe draped on the back of each chair. It was only as each justice put on their robes that all in the room rose to their feet. As he took his own seat, the chief justice waved for the room to sit down. The rest of the bench followed suit. The low buzz of conversation stopped instantly when the chief justice banged his gavel. Justin knew from his weeks of preparation with Manny that the Supreme Court of the Terran Confederation was the one branch of the government that was respected. Part of the reason was that of the three major branches this court's power could and did reach beyond the confines of Geneva and the terraformed worlds. The other reason had to do with respect. All of the justices had been handpicked from the private sector, had many decades of experience, and had come with well-regarded reputations in the extremely competitive world of law.

"It has been the tradition of this court," began the chief justice, "to only review cases and not actually hold trials. For reasons that have already been explained we will break with this tradition. We will will have a trial here. The thirty-minute rule of argument presentation is dispensed with. It is requested that the honored counsel do not take this as an invitation to lecture at length. It is not. You will speak only as long as have a trial here. The thirty-minute rule of argument presentation is dispensed with. It is requested that the honored counsel do not take this as an invitation to lecture at length. It is not. You will speak only as long as we we wish. I warn you-do not waste our time. The prosecution and defense will present their opening arguments in that order. Then they will present their evidence. Then they will close. Let's get this over with." He banged his gavel. "Court is now in session." wish. I warn you-do not waste our time. The prosecution and defense will present their opening arguments in that order. Then they will present their evidence. Then they will close. Let's get this over with." He banged his gavel. "Court is now in session."

Janet Delgado did not hesitate. She was on her feet in an instant.

"The government," she said, with as austere a voice as she could muster, "is a vital part of our society. The founders of the confederation knew this. They knew that government must be limited. But they also knew that government had a role. More important, they knew that it must be supported. To that end they set up a simple and efficient means to garner that support. It is a method that is straightforward, effective, and nonintrusive. And it's also a method that has stood that most important of tests ... time. We want the defendant, Justin Cord, to be treated just like every other person in the solar system. We desire that he be required to obey the Constitution, as every other human being must. To not recognize the justice of this request would be to put all that we hold to be true at risk. A foundation stone of our civilization is that laws must be few, they must be simple, and they must apply to everyone. Until now Justin Cord has existed in a legal loophole. It's time to close it."

Janet returned to her seat.

The chief justice looked at his fellow justices. They nodded as one. "The court," bellowed the chief justice, "will take a five-minute recess." They immediately began discussing Janet Delgado's opening statement.

Manny leaned over to Justin. "Mr. Cord, I must be honest with you in that I do not have a legal leg to stand on. I will try my best for you, but ..."

Justin put his hand on Manny's shoulder. "Just do your best, Manny. You've already done more than I could have hoped for. Winning that first case was a miracle, and I appreciate it."

Manny frowned. "I'm fresh out of miracles, my friend." He stood up and was about to give his inadequate opening when each justice gave the unmistakable head motion associated with listening to a subvocalized avatar. Justin saw that Hektor Sambianco, sitting in the front row, was also listening with his "inner" ear. That was all it took for the entire courtroom to take their avatars off the do-not-disturb mode to find out what was going on.

And that was how the trial found out that government agents, acting on their own, had managed to track down and arrest the most feared terrorist of the modern age, Sean Doogle. The large crowd of reporters in the auditorium was at a loss-leave and pursue the latest story or stay and cover the present one? The court, not wishing any doubt to be cast on its fairness in this most important of cases, decided to extend their recess for the remainder of the day. With a speed that would have done credit to a bomb threat, the courtroom emptied. Justin looked at Manny. They didn't know how, and weren't sure why, but their miracle had just arrived.

The greatest failure of any bureaucracy is not an inability to act. This they do in many little ways and many big ways. What destroys most bureaucracies is an inability to think.-DAVID LINDSEY, AUTHOR OF RISE OF BUREAUCRACY, FALL OF AMERICA RISE OF BUREAUCRACY, FALL OF AMERICA _______.

Hektor Sambianco was worried. He left the courtroom immediately, rushing out to his waiting flyer. He'd weeks earlier dispensed with the fancy limo his predecessor had favored and switched it for a more utilitarian and certainly less comfy communications vehicle. This flyer's specialty interior enabled him to be in constant contact with every conceivable facet of his empire-wherever he managed to find himself. The command center also came with a dedicated, hardworking staff that to a person was proud to be associated with the newest rising star of GCI. They were also of a mind with him about the importance of his work. However, what they were telling him now was not making him happy. Something was indeed very wrong.

"Mariko," Hektor asked his number two, with a tinge of worry in his voice, "do you mean to tell me that a group of government-paid incompetents who couldn't find a pussy in a whorehouse has succeeded where the resources of GCI failed?"

Mariko, a sprightly blond Asian woman with a constant spring in her step even when standing, nodded.

Hektor scratched his chin. "Does that seem like a logical thing to you?"

"Nope. But what do you want me to say? They have him and we don't."

Hektor liberated a cigar from his pocket. "What are they telling us?"

"Nothing."

"And they know," he said, lighting up his Monte Cristo, "who you work for?"

"Boss, that's the problem. We shut them out of our investigation and, to be honest, haven't been very nice to them in the press. Personally, they think we can all take a hike."

Hektor grinned, realizing his mistake. "Mariko, let this be a lesson to you. Rudeness is like land mines you set for yourself." Hektor allowed himself a moment to think. As he did, he took another long pull on his cigar-it was a vice he was indulging in more and more. "Well, we can't threaten their jobs, they work for the government. Too late to be nice. So let's bribe someone."

"Already on it, boss," Mariko said proudly, handing her boss a DijAssist for thumbprint approval. "One of the guards is about to win a free promotional vacation to the rings of Saturn for three, all expenses paid, of course."

"Of course," smirked Hektor, staring at a holodisplay of the guard in question.

Special Operations, under the banner of GCI en total, always had some sort of ongoing contest. Superficially, the contests were good-will gestures meant to strengthen brand loyalty and awareness. However, if one were to dig a little deeper they'd find the "other" reason just as compelling-bribery. Most of the time the bribes weren't necessary and the prizes were awarded to a truly random sampling of the population. But when needed, there was nothing like a trip to the Moon or a ten-year lease on a fluid home to help unlock zipped lips.

"By the way-three?" asked Hektor.

"He's poly," she answered, using the slang to indicate group marriage. Mariko was tapping her toe quietly on the ground, waiting for Hektor to hand back her DijAssist.

Hektor frowned and attached his signature to the unit. "Better make it four, then."

His assistant nodded. "He comes off shift in ..." She stared at a clock on the wall. "Twenty minutes. Five minutes to the cafe, and then we'll find out what the government's up to."

"Mariko, I just may be in love."

"Words, words," she said. "Now, if you were to say it in Chairman stock ..."

"Love, maybe," Hektor answered, blowing an O ring into the air, "insane-no."

Mariko stuck her tongue out playfully and got back to insuring that the meeting with the government cop went off as planned. The exchange of goods was meant to be a simple affair. The cop would be met at the diner by a man who had a credit voucher in cash for half the amount of the trip. When the cop "won" the trip he would destroy the incriminating voucher. If the cop decided to get cute by, say, cashing the voucher anyway or selling his his sellout to a media outlet, GCI would suffer embarrassment, but Hektor would make sure the turncoat got no pleasure from his actions. But neither Mariko nor Hektor was worried. For starters, no one-unless they were a lunatic-messed with GCI. It was simply too big a bridge to burn. And second, bribing government officials was easy, certainly compared to bribing persons from other corporations. sellout to a media outlet, GCI would suffer embarrassment, but Hektor would make sure the turncoat got no pleasure from his actions. But neither Mariko nor Hektor was worried. For starters, no one-unless they were a lunatic-messed with GCI. It was simply too big a bridge to burn. And second, bribing government officials was easy, certainly compared to bribing persons from other corporations.

The cop came off schedule exactly twenty minutes from the time Mariko said he would. Five minutes later he was at the cafe, and five minutes after that Hektor had his information.

Hektor read the brief dispatch and stubbed out his cigar in one of the many well-situated ashtrays found in the communications center.

Now he was truly worried.

The attorney general was finally having a good day. Ever since the assassination of the president he'd been bombarded with calls to "do something," "act quickly," and "stop screwing up." All of which galled him to no end. He'd earned his position through years of hard work and loyal service. His promotions had come at expected, if not always merited, intervals, and he'd done it all by the book. So when he'd captured the wrong wrong Sean Doogle, all the sneers and jokes about "good enough for government work" or "those who can't do, govern" were dragged out and rehashed for the scapegoat-hungry media. Even his kids were finding excuses not to come by and visit. But he was having his day now, wasn't he? GCI had failed to find Sean Doogle. Even the vaunted Pinkertons had failed to find the bastard. But agents of the Justice Department had. Sean Doogle, all the sneers and jokes about "good enough for government work" or "those who can't do, govern" were dragged out and rehashed for the scapegoat-hungry media. Even his kids were finding excuses not to come by and visit. But he was having his day now, wasn't he? GCI had failed to find Sean Doogle. Even the vaunted Pinkertons had failed to find the bastard. But agents of the Justice Department had. His agents His agents, he thought gleefully. Yes, the attorney general was looking at the Neuro and finally seeing his name associated with adjectives other than "moronic," "typical," and "useless." Of course, the adjectives of "surprising" and "amazing" were also insulting, but less so. It was in this particular happy state that he was told that the DepDir of Special Operations for GCI was calling. The attorney general was pleasantly surprised.

It's about time he called to congratulate me, he thought.

"Tell him I'll be with him in a moment," he instructed his assistant. Though he wasn't inundated with anything, it wasn't every day that a man such as himself got to put one of the most powerful people in the system on hold.

"Uh, sir," said his more politically astute aide, "you sure you want to do that?"

"Yes ... yes," he answered, ignoring the advice at his own peril, "I believe I do." After all, he'd captured the most hated man in the solar system. Not even that Sambianco asshole could touch him now.

"Uh ... OK, then. I'll tell him." The assistant clicked off.

The AG put his legs up on his desk, placed his hands behind his head, and watched the second hand on the wall knock off about ten ticks. "OK," he said, having prepared himself for the kudos, "you can put him through now."

Within a second the image of Hektor Sambianco appeared on the AG's holodisplay. It only took a moment for the AG to realize from the look on Hektor's face that kudos were not on the menu.

"Pardon me, sir," Hektor said, purposely treading as gingerly as he could manage, "but I believe something's wrong about the arrest you made."

"What," shot back the AG, "that we made the arrest and you didn't?" The nerve of that guy The nerve of that guy, he thought.

"Well," answered Hektor, trying desperately not to waste time, "not to put too fine a point on it, but yes."

"Good-bye, Mr. Sambianco." The AG was about to switch Hektor off when the DepDir did something he almost never did-he yelled.

"Wait!" shouted Hektor. He resumed his composure when he saw the AG hesitate. "Just a moment, that is. You arrested Sean Doogle by himself, correct? All alone in a house?" shouted Hektor. He resumed his composure when he saw the AG hesitate. "Just a moment, that is. You arrested Sean Doogle by himself, correct? All alone in a house?"

The attorney general nodded. "Yes, your spies do you credit, sir."

"You caught him," continued Hektor, "because he failed to disconnect from a manual upload to the Neuro?"

"Yes, he must have been trying something new and made a mistake. It's how most criminals are caught."

"He was in," continued Hektor, brushing aside the useless information, "a newly rented, fixed house, without any any special devices or warning systems?" special devices or warning systems?"

"He's been moving around ... a lot." Now it was the AG's turn to feel a little discomfort. No No, he thought. Couldn't be Couldn't be.

"Finally," Hektor said, finishing off his short list, "he had no codes, equipment, or cash cards on him at all beyond an off-the-shelf Neuro upload unit."

"Correct."

"Doesn't any of this strike you as possible that he wanted he wanted to get caught?" to get caught?"

"What does it matter?" the AG spat. "The psyche audit will tell us everything we need to know."

Hektor could not identify why he knew or what specifically the result of the audit would be, but he realized exactly what Sean Doogle was attempting, and every fiber of his being told him that the audit must not happen.

"For Damsah's sake," pleaded Hektor, "don't do it!"

"Do what, Mr. Sambianco? A psyche audit?"

"Yes! Yes!" screamed Hektor. "Don't you see? He wanted to get caught by the government."

Now that that was too much. If it were anyone else on the holo, the AG would have hung up long ago. But there was only so much insult a man could take. He realized that he still hadn't bothered to take his extended legs off the desk. Which meant the DepDir of the most powerful corporation on Earth was continuing to plead ... to the soles of the AG's feet. was too much. If it were anyone else on the holo, the AG would have hung up long ago. But there was only so much insult a man could take. He realized that he still hadn't bothered to take his extended legs off the desk. Which meant the DepDir of the most powerful corporation on Earth was continuing to plead ... to the soles of the AG's feet. Serves him right ... bastard Serves him right ... bastard.

"You mean," chided the AG, "he doesn't like you, Mr. Sambianco? I'm shocked."

Hektor took a deep breath. Yelling at this man was not going to help. He felt like he was talking to Kirk Olmstead. Hektor silently vowed that if this bureaucrat screwed with his his system he would find a way to have him transferred right next to his former boss. But now he forced a smile on his face and continued trying to achieve his purpose. system he would find a way to have him transferred right next to his former boss. But now he forced a smile on his face and continued trying to achieve his purpose.

"No, sir," Hektor continued, attempting to remain calm. "I think it's because he knows I would not do an immediate psyche audit on him."

Now it was the AG's turn to tire of the DepDir. "Mr. Sambianco," he said, making a show of checking the time, "I have no choice. The law is clear. Mr. Doogle is a dangerous and and convicted felon. The protocol for crimes such as his demand an immediate psyche audit upon capture. Especially in cases where the felon might have information that could lead to the capture of other felons. You can trust this procedure, Mr. Sambianco. It's a standard investigative technique that's been used for years. Now is there convicted felon. The protocol for crimes such as his demand an immediate psyche audit upon capture. Especially in cases where the felon might have information that could lead to the capture of other felons. You can trust this procedure, Mr. Sambianco. It's a standard investigative technique that's been used for years. Now is there anything else anything else I can help you with?" I can help you with?"

Hektor sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Don't you see? That's exactly what he's probably planning to use against you. Do me this favor-and I can assure you you'll be well rewarded. Order a temporary halt to the procedure. Surely you have the authority to do that?"

"Of course I do," the AG said, ignoring not only the bribe but the expressed wishes of the man on the other end of the holodisplay, "but I cannot use that authority without documentable justification. And I'm afraid that hairs raising on the back of your neck, Mr. Sambianco, do not qualify."

To the utter surprise of the head of the Justice Department of the Terran Confederation, Hektor hung up. Hektor hadn't done it to be rude; he just didn't have time to be formal. And when it became patently obvious that the AG was not going to help him, Hektor had decided to go over his head.

Back in his command center Hektor took out a special device from the top shelf of a well-secured cabinet. The device was in the shape of a small metallic square and had a depression in it designed to fit a normal-sized hand. Hektor placed his hand on the box. Immediately, microscopic filaments burrowed from the box into his hand and, in essence, hijacked his internal electronic communications system. Next came the dangerous part. The box, unlike most other palm readers, would not only make sure that Hektor's DNA was, in fact, that of Hektor Sambianco-this box would kill him if he wasn't. The death would be an instant nanofailure-an episode in which the body's internal nanites are taken over by killer duplicates that replicate at a frightening speed, eating the body up from within. When the box was convinced that Hektor was who Hektor said he was, it vibrated. Hektor then made the only call the box was capable of making.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Chairman. I need to eliminate a problem."

By then it was too late.

Investigator: The patient was cooperative, you say?Dr. Goldman: Oh yes, I would say eager, even. Most auditees have to be sedated. He walked right up to the chair and had a seat. Investigator: This is when you began the audit? Investigator: This is when you began the audit?Dr. Goldman: Yes. I ordered the introduction of stage-one mapping nanites, and tuned the recorder to the subject. Mapping must always be done first to determine the areas that need to be read and/or adjusted. That's when things began to go wrong. Investigator: Could you elaborate, Dr. Goldman? Investigator: Could you elaborate, Dr. Goldman?Dr. Goldman: Of course. [long pause] Forgive me. [pause] I'm still a little shaken.Investigator: Take your time. Dr. Goldman: The patient's brain stem had what could only be called an allergic reaction to either the nanites or the scanner. It may have been a combination of both. As the nanites were mapping the upper level neural pathways, they were also ... collapsing them. By the time we were able to get the nanites out, Mr. Doogle had lost most of his upper-level brain functions Dr. Goldman: The patient's brain stem had what could only be called an allergic reaction to either the nanites or the scanner. It may have been a combination of both. As the nanites were mapping the upper level neural pathways, they were also ... collapsing them. By the time we were able to get the nanites out, Mr. Doogle had lost most of his upper-level brain functions. Investigator: What does that mean in layman's terms, Doctor? Investigator: What does that mean in layman's terms, Doctor?Dr. Goldman: He could breathe on his own, and he could eat and sleep and dream. But without extensive neural reconstruction he would remain a congenital idiot his entire life. Investigator: I see Investigator: I see. Dr. Goldman: But the real question was, do we completely restructure his pathways, in essence creating a new person, or do we try to save as much of his memory, learned responses, and personality as possible? Dr. Goldman: But the real question was, do we completely restructure his pathways, in essence creating a new person, or do we try to save as much of his memory, learned responses, and personality as possible?Investigator: Does not medical ethics force you to do the latter?Dr. Goldman: It's not that simple. It's not as if Mr. Doogle had his memories wiped out in chronological order. Investigator: Please explain Investigator: Please explain. Dr. Goldman: It wouldn't be like rolling back the clock. In other words, that type of memory loss wouldn't mean we'd end up with an eight- or ten-year-old Sean Doogle Dr. Goldman: It wouldn't be like rolling back the clock. In other words, that type of memory loss wouldn't mean we'd end up with an eight- or ten-year-old Sean Doogle. Investigator: Perhaps you could explain what it would mean Investigator: Perhaps you could explain what it would mean. Dr. Goldman: It would mean he'd be a man with only about 10 percent of his memories, and we'd have no way of knowing which of those memories would be preserved. For example, he may know half the alphabet. Say, everything under Q. He may not remember the sun, his parents, or what a room is. He may remember all the pain of the day his childhood dog died and not know what a dog is. In short, sir, it's a recipe for madness. Luckily, we did not have to decide. His wife came forward and made the decision for us Dr. Goldman: It would mean he'd be a man with only about 10 percent of his memories, and we'd have no way of knowing which of those memories would be preserved. For example, he may know half the alphabet. Say, everything under Q. He may not remember the sun, his parents, or what a room is. He may remember all the pain of the day his childhood dog died and not know what a dog is. In short, sir, it's a recipe for madness. Luckily, we did not have to decide. His wife came forward and made the decision for us. Investigator: Please tell the board what was decided Investigator: Please tell the board what was decided. Dr. Goodman: As per Mrs. Doogle's request, we tried to save what we could Dr. Goodman: As per Mrs. Doogle's request, we tried to save what we could. Investigator: She chose madness, then Investigator: She chose madness, then. Dr. Goodman: Yes. [long pause]Yes. Madness Dr. Goodman: Yes. [long pause]Yes. Madness. -TRANSCRIPT FROM THE MEDICAL INQUIRY INTO THEPSYCHOLOGICAL AUDIT OF SEAN DOOGLE -TRANSCRIPT FROM THE MEDICAL INQUIRY INTO THEPSYCHOLOGICAL AUDIT OF SEAN DOOGLE

Over an hour of Sean Doogle floating in the center of a gravity room has been released to the Neuro. Though his parents were strongly against the release of this video, ISN was given permission to show it by Mr. Doogle's wife and legal guardian of his will, Cassandra Doogle. We must warn you, the video is disturbing. Some viewers have reported crying and even throwing up upon seeing the clip. Parents with young children are urged to view this with caution. In a personal note, this reporter has never been a supporter of Sean Doogle or any of his beliefs or actions. That being said, after watching the creature in the video-flailing madly about trying to make coherent sounds, desperately, it seems, trying to make sense of his predicament-well, all my hatred left. Mr. Doogle may have deserved death, but he did not deserve this.-EVENING WRAP-UP WITH MARK STROMBERG, ISN RIOTING IN ALL MAJOR CITIES ON EARTH!MAJOR OUTBREAKS OF VIOLENCE REPORTED ON ALL THE PLANETS OUTTO SATURN! POLICE STRUGGLING TO MAINTAIN CONTROL!.

In major acts of violence not seen since the days of the Grand Collapse and the Alaskan unification, many cities were brought to a standstill. Massive mobs made up of mostly pennies but in some cases containing citizens with higher percentages, some even with majority, were destroying any buildings associated with the government. This led to a string of attacks on court buildings, police stations, and some corporate structures as well. There have also been reports of looting, rape, and even murder. Death tolls from all causes are in the thousands as many remain dead too long to be preserved in cryostasis. Using a combination of deputized citizens, amnesties, and some hard-fought street battles, the authorities have only recently begun to restore law and order to most urban areas. Some in charge believe the exodus of those fearing for their lives has also helped.It was the simultaneous release of a video showing Sean Doogle after his botched government audit and Mr. Doogle's last download to the Neuro, the now infamous "any sacrifice for freedom" speech, that sparked this latest and greatest of social disturbances.-HEADLINE AND ACCOMPANYING ARTICLE FROM A TERRAN CONFEDERATIONNEWSPAPER AFTER THE RELEASE OF THE SEAN DOOGLE VIDEO AND HIS NOWINFAMOUS "ANY SACRIFICE FOR FREEDOM" SPEECH

Justin sat impatiently in his apartment in New York and watched a world go mad. The court had decided to recess for another few days, waiting for the troubles to dissipate. Although private t.o.p.s were still running, the New York City International Orport was shut down due to rioting and personnel failing to show up for work. Utilities and basic services were being disrupted on a citywide basis. As far as Justin could tell, this was happening systemwide. But it was when people started dying that he'd had enough.

In one incident the magnetic fields allowing orport flight had been purposely sabotaged in a small rural city, sending hundreds of people plummeting to their deaths. And of those deaths, eighty-seven were said to be permanent. It appeared that Doogle's followers had one major success. The attorney general was assassinated outside his office. He was using a secret exit to avoid the press and walked right into an ambush. Though no group claimed immediate responsibility, authorities assumed it to be a vengeance killing for Sean Doogle's effective death.