Chapter 23 - Oppenheimer Moment

  “Everyone in position?” Standish inquired into the local comm.

“Tiger-three and five are in position,” Adrian replied.

The last time Jim had been up here, he had approached the base from the rear field and snuck in through one of the access tunnels. The IA, or Standish, had since moved in a huge battery of military installments. The entire rear flank was lined with several rows of missile and laser turrets, and a fleet of variously-sized mobile platforms large enough to conquer a small countryship had been moved into a half-ring formation around the perimeter of the base. The entire rim of the mining crater had been lined with its own missile and laser turret installations, the minefield restored to its former glory.

The DPRC-axis Cores, ignorant to the apparently-recent reinforcement, had tried to approach the base from the rear, and were strafing around the substantial defensive detachment. Upon landing, Jim postulated they would attempt to clear the much less-heavily fortified crater and hunker down behind the crater lip. The approach to the base's “front door” was beefed up to include its own mobile platform and stationary turret retinue, in addition to the base's already-substantial native installations, but the cover of the crater lip would offer some shelter from the bombardment while they systematically picked off the major defensive structures and planned an ingress.

Jim's counter-plan involved Adrian and Toni posting up on the far lip of the crater where they would use targeted sniping to push them along the rim and into Standish and Tomah, who were waiting far afield of the base. Just outside the turret's effective range, their killzone. Jim and Marion would then emerge from their rear flank, boxing them in. If they were lucky, they'd get pushed into the murder-pit that was the mining crater.

“Gold-one and Bull-seven are in position,” Marion updated.

“And, of course, Fox-leader and Fox-nine are in positions,” Standish confirmed. “We're tracing behind the Axis Cores. It doesn't look like they're aware of our landing yet. Or, if they are, they're too busy getting their ass, just, so many shades of kicked right now.”

“Yeah, so, how did all of these installations get up here?” Marion replied through. “Also, we're just outside the killzone. We found a good crater to hunker down in and are waiting for them to approach.”

“The Windforce has been shitting units through that poop-shoot impulsor cannon ever since I withdrew,” Standish's flippant tone had returned. “They should be at the crater ledge in short order. Looks like you were at least right about the direction they would head, Jim.”

“It doesn't look like they have sustained any serious damage,” Tomah added. “We don't have any reconnaissance, so we're flying blind.”

“Don't remind us,” Adrian replied.

“He'll be fine,” Marion responded. “This is Blaize. He's not the type for heroics. He had a plan. He has to have.”

“I do not know,” Toni injected. “I do not wish to be a downer, but it is hard to see how he would be able to make it out of there safe.”

“Guys,” Jim punched, “Stop. We need to focus. Where are they now?”

“They don't know the bound-roll trick,” Standish chuckled, “So they're still clumsily striding along.”

“Well, we have to be careful up here,” Marion had a bit of gravity in her tone. “We don't have our jumpers on. The regolith up here is extraordinarily fine and abrasive. It can cause serious damage.”

“Well, I mean,” Adrian started, “it's not like we need to see these things down, do we? The only reason we're doing any of this anyway is that we're trying to secure our transfer, right?”

“I mean,” Standish interjected, “Yeah. But, like, as much as I want to make the ole' Commander cry, all of these servers are run by the same folks. They're gonna be pretty pissed when I pull you guys out. Jim would have been easy to hide. I've been covering all my misdeeds thus far by saying that I'm performing an ad-hoc experiment on 'Rogue Actors.' I could have just pulled him and the Commander would start training up someone else. It would have been a loss, but recoverable. With her losing all of you guys, and the Cores being trashed, and there now being a full-scale battle between the IA and the DPRC Axis, and the Luna base being lost...” he trailed of for a bit. “I just couldn't do that.”

“Aww,” Marion japed, “you still care.”

“No,” Standish said grumpily. “I'm going to have to fix this all anyway, it would just be a ton more work.”

“Right,” Marion drew out. “We all believe you,” she dragged out the “all.”

“I have a positive visual,” Adrian interrupted.

“Fire at will,” Standish said solemnly. “Also, fire at the Cores, too. I don't know if any of their pilots are named 'Will.'”

“Oh my god,” Marion replied. “You did not just...” she trailed off. “That was terrible. Just terrible.”

Standish replied with a healthy guffaw into the comm as two mass driver rounds kicked up a cloud of dust at the Axis Core's feet. They turned immediately, and lobbed a few laser rounds back in their direction before being pushed out of range by the turret installations along the the rim. Another volley of rounds boomed out. This time, however, one of the rounds caught a heavy core, closely resembling Cúchulainn, but in a space jumper. The core wheeled back as the driver round lodged into its shoulder structure. The Axis Cores continued to retreat from the turrets, probably thinking that the sniper rounds were coming from them, peppering them with wild laser shots.

“You ready, Bull team?” Standish popped over. He had already begun advancing on the huddle of Axis units, quickly closing the gap between them. Once within spitting distance, instead of following a roll into another bound, he sprung vertically into the air, withdrew his warhammer, and slammed it down mightily into the regolith, following the downward momentum into a squat, a geyser of dust bursting into the air.

To their credit, the Axis Cores reacted with lightning reflex, though the injured heavy maybe not as fast as needed. Still in a squat, Standish planted his rear foot and spun the hammer in a clean arc. All but the heavy dodged out of range, catching the mallet's head directly in the chest, sending it ragdolling out at intense velocity before slamming in the ground just inside turret range. On cue, a hail of laser rounds heated the regolith around the core with glowing, smoking red dots, blue-violet beam-paths temporarily visible in the dust before the fine particulate matter ablated in the intense photonic energy. A few of those dots started to appear on the surface of the Core as well, boring through the hardened outer layer and singeing the delicate cooling channels and meta-material fibers underneath. After a few seconds, seconds that felt more like hours to all watching, the Axis Core rolled out of the laser turrets' range, and with a powerful arm press, pushed himself perfectly horizontal mid-roll, pulling a mass-driver off his back and sighting in on Standish before landing in a kneel, kicking up a massive cloud of dust as he landed.

Once stable, the heavy let a few rounds loose on Standish, careful to avoid accidentally clipping his compatriots who were now converging on Standish. “How foolish,” Vishnu said into Jim's comm.

“I know,” Jim replied as he trained his rifle on one of the lighter units, “he needs to get out of there.”

“No,” Vishnu replied “that they should advance on him, instead of run.” No sooner had they got within gripping distance, then did an explosion of blue light erupt from the center, sending the Axis Cores out in a violent shock, the scintillating ripples of energy emanating off of Siddhartha incinerating the regolith suspended in the air around him, forming a shell of smoke and bluish-violet fire following the force-lines of whatever field he was generating around him.

The toga Siddhartha was wearing, bound to his legs via criss-crossing straps, fluttered in the rippling energy like a wind emerging from the ground beneath him, the light eminating from nim bleaching all depth of color into black and white-blue, even to the potent eyes of the Core's sensor arrays. In a flash, Siddhartha moved from his squatted position to directly in front of the kneeling heavy core, and then, in a blink, Siddhartha was in a squat again, hand outstretched in a curl-fingered palm strike, the heavy Axis Core bursting into a cloud of particulate dust and chunks of indiscriminate material as the air in front of his hand violently exploded outward. The blue flame around Siddhartha, in a few seconds that again felt like days, petered out, Standish very quickly sprinting for the crater Marion and Jim were hiding inside.

“Woah,” Jim shook his, and Vishnu's, head. “It looks so much cooler when you're watching it instead of doing it.”

“Don't encourage him,” Marion sighed. “He'll blow all of his energy reserves doing that crap before he can transfer us out.”

“I mean,” Tomah had begun unloading his laser rifle at the Axis Cores as they ran, or rather, lept through the air, as fast as they could toward Jim and Marion's position, chasing after Standish, “that whole teleport-energy beam thing is kind of incredible. Just saying.”

“It's not teleporting,” Jim replied. “I don't know what it's doing for sure, but I believe we're moving at a significant fraction of the speed of light. That's why it looks like teleporting. The explosion is just the disruption field disabling and the air particles compressing into an ignition wave. I think.”

“Well, whatever is happening,” Tomah retorted, “you're one place, and then another, and then there's a bright white flash, and then whatever was there suddenly isn't. That seems like teleport-energy beam shit to me.”

“Hey,” Standish interrupted as he vaulted his core into the large crater, Marion and Jim hunkered against the ledge, as he lept down the long, parabolic dish of the crater. “We can discuss the minutiae of what to call it later. Can you just hurry up and ice these fools so I can get the transfer started?”

Almost on cue, the remaining Axis Cores, hot on Standish's heels, came bounding over the ledge themselves, soaring through the air, weapons firing indiscriminately at Standish as he hoped down the side of the crater in tiny strides.

“Anything you can do I can do better,” Jim said as he pushed himself forward into a squat, exploding his legs into a massive verticle leap. Standish had crossed the nadir of the crater and was about half-way up the opposite side before the Axis Cores landed hard in the center, a plume of regolith exploding from their feet. “Vishnu, engage God Mode.”

“I shall take on my multi-armed form,” Vishnu replied as the screens in Jim's rig went black. The familiar lines of script scrolled past, and when his vision of the outside world returned, he was mid-air, engulfed in his own scintillating sheath of blue-white energy, four tendrils of force on either side licking out of the aura like blazing appendages. “I am become Death, destroyer of worlds,” Vishnu thundered in Jim's head. With a quick dash, Jim cut through the air, following the remaining leg of the parabolic arc he began to proscribe when he initiated his jump, the particles of regolith suspended mid-air and unmoving as Jim shimmered past. With a gainer and a flip, Jim landed perpendicular to the line Marion and Standish formed, just beside the crush of Axis cores, bringing his palms to the side of his chest, disengaging his disruption field, and pushing both hands out, palm-forward.

With an soundless clap, as the pressure wave collapsed in front of Vishnu, the Axis Cores ceased to exist as physical entities, disappearing into a smoking cone in front of Jim, the multi-armed force lines soaking up the rebounding energy and blowing off of Vishnu like a blue-violet flame in the wind. When Jim's perception finally returned to normal speed, he was squatting in a horse-riding stance, both hands still pressed forward, the regolith around him completely ablated, no dust to settle.

Silence hung for what seemed like infinity. “I think Jim wins,” Marion finally commented.

“I mean,” Standish stood still in silent awe for a moment, “like, yeah. Anyway,” Standish continued scrambling up the side of the crater until he hit the lip. “You coming or what?” he replied through the comm after disappearing over the ledge.

“We'll meet you at the base,” Jim replied as his arms went limp and he slowly stood up into a normal posture.

“You know, that shit always feels like cheating,” Adrian said over the comm. Jim and Marion had just hit the crest of the crater themselves and saw Toni and him dive-rolling around the crater rim to the base.

“Well, I mean it kinda is,” Jim almost shrugged. “You expect a long drawn-out battle with lots of intricate maneuvering and traps and then poof, no more enemy.”

“Certainly saves us time and energy,” Marion said as she and Jim were gliding down the outer lip of the crater and dive-rolling to the base.

“Energy, maybe not. You do not have more than an hour of life force remaining,” Vishnu interrupted. “You will not be capable of surviving your return journey if we are not careful.”

“That's kind of how it usually works, though,” Jim ignored Vishnu's comment. “We're the bigger, more powerful, better-trained, more technologically-advanced superpower, with a fortified position and the element of surprise. The miracle-story would be them being able to hold their own against us, let alone best us, not us successfully defeating them.”

Jim and Marion finally reconnoitered at the base. Standish was already in the hangar, disembarked from his Core. “No need to disembark, guys. Nothing to worry about. Just go ahead and stay out there,” Standish said coolely.

“Why don't I trust you?” Jim shriveled his nose inside his helmet.

“Because you know him too well,” the Commander's voice came through the speakers in his flight rig. “What is he doing?”

“Oh, you know,” Standish replied through the comm. He and the others were huddled around the back hangars of the base. “Just teching them on the impulsor cannon.”

“Perfect,” the Commander replied through. “So you're disembarked and inside the base?”

“That would be accurate?” Standish asked more than confirmed.

“Go ahead and load them in,” she replied in her cold-emotioned “mission” voice. No sooner had she finished than did red lights begin flashing all around them.

“What's going on?” Standish replied emphatically into the comm. “The sirens are going off. I didn't set the sirens off.”

“I did, obviously” the Commander replied snidely. “The IA has decided to make an example of the DPRC. Marion,” her tone changed back to her mission voice. “You all are to reconnoiter at the underground base, you will be deploying in the Valiant with our occupying force to the DPRC once the nuclear devices clear the road.”

“Nuclear devices?” Toni vocalized loudly. “You can't mean,” she trailed off melodramatically.

“I think she does,” Standish followed up, his voice bordering on theatrical. “It's almost like I'd predict something like this!” Jim swore he heard Standish jab his finger through the air.

“Will both of you shut up?” The Commander sighed casually. “This is world politics,” the hardness in her voice edged back. “I don't make these decisions. The DPRC knew this was going to happen. That's why they threw their entire naval fleet at us and then risked their Cores against a fortification that they either knew, or should have known, was near impenetrable. This was a gambit. Once Standish had Siddhartha, they knew we would make a move against them diplomatically.”

“Suicide by police,” Adrian appended.

“Exactly,” the Commander confirmed. “At least this way they get international sympathy before we take them over politically. We stole their queen, so they threw their bishop and rook against our queen to see if they could scare us off, but we called their bluff and now it's check-mate for them.”

“They were all outta trump cards,” Marion added.

“Are you all going to try and turn deeply nuanced issues into epiphonic one-liners?” The Commander scoffed.

“I mean, yeah?” Tomah quipped.

“Well, hurry up soldiers,” a little warmth slipping into the Commander's voice. “Orders are from high command, so make it snappy.”

“We need to do something, Jim. Marion. Someone!” Toni blasted over the private chat.

“Do we?” Tomah replied after a long pause.

“Yes!” Toni replied, desperate.

“I mean,” Marion replied after another long pause with no one moving. She physically shrugged Musashi's shoulders, “why?”

“What do you mean 'why?!'” Toni was deeply impassioned, so much so that she was physically manipulating her core to plead with us. “Hundreds of millions of people are about to be killed!”

“I mean,” Jim cut her off, “not really? Tens of thousands, sure. Maybe even up to a million. But, this maneuver could save billions, with a 'b,' of lives.”

“Yeah,” Adrian picked up, “by ending this quickly and decisively with a show of force like this, we're preventing a World War. We're consolidating power behind the IA and discouraging anyone else from further armed conflict. Our occupation of the DPRC after their complete submission will allow them to flourish under our protection.”

“Woah,” Marion cut in after a short pause. “I was talking about how we're not going to be around to care, and that it's not our battle to worry about anymore.”

“I mean,” Jim added, “yeah. You could go there I guess, too, but jeez, that's a little dark, right guys?”

“Yeah,” Tomah added. “It makes the IA really sound like an idealistic, totalitarian aggressor that hides behind a cudgel of moral high ground and cultural superiority by making unsustainable promises of utopia in exchange for complete submission.”

“I,” Toni was crying into the comm. “My people...” she trailed off.

“Toni,” Marion replied consolingly, “there's nothing we can do. You can attack this base and fall on your sword, or you can let the invisible hands of geopolitics play their pieces. Being the attack dogs of a global superpower means that our choices are always about saving lives at the cost of other's lives.” She pointed Musashi's hand over the horizon, “Behind that ridge is a little blue marble that has survived millions of years of endless tragedy and destruction. The happy ending is us five banding together to overthrow the base defenses and blow up the facility before the weapons can launch, and at the last second, Standish transfers us out of this existence. But real life isn't happy endings. It's shades of grey.”

Toni was sobbing. “We still can,” She gasped out between wet sniffles.

“No, we can't,” Marion replied emotionally. “This place is fortified far beyond anything we could ever manage.”

“What about Jim,” Toni wailed uncontrollably.

“I barely have enough energy to run my life support,” Jim's voice sounded small.

“We have to do something!” She was crying so hard she gagged.

“I...We...” Adrian stuttered through. He was starting to sob, himself.

“We can't,” Marion's calm, matronly tone consoled. “We have to surrender ourselves to a higher force beyond our control.”

“But why,” Toni's voice trailed sharp inhales as her sobs slowly died down. “Why? We wrought this.”

“No,” Jim said forcefully. “We did not sew this. This is not our hand,” his voice faltered a bit. “We're pawns. You heard her. We're pieces on a chessboard. Trump cards in a bridge hand. Blaize was just a strategically lost trick to secure the finesse. We are cogs in a machine much bigger than us. We have no more say than a skin cell has in the operation of the entire body.”

Hatches in the landscape slid open, little white cones peaked out of the blueish gray regolith far away from the base. “Alright guys and gals,” Standish's ignorant voice felt irreverent. “I'm going to go switch the blade, so I'll be unreachable. Don't do anything I wouldn't do!” The missiles slid out of their holes far away, hurtling ever-faster into the atmosphere before turning on an arc and vanishing over the horizon.

“Our transgressions were for the greater good,” Jim continued. “Our valor will be rewarded when we're reborn in our new lives.”

***********************************************************************************

Jim snapped awake, bathed in a cold sweat. “Lights,” he said between rapid gasps. He looked at his hands before raking one across his face. “Call Molly,” repeated outloud.

“Jim?” Molly's answered groggily after several long minutes.

“I had the dream again,” Jim flopped back down onto the thin canvas mattress. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah,” she replied after several yet longer moments. “Gimme a sec and call me back on telepresence, OK?”

“Alright,” Jim said as the line disconnected with low-toned indicator. He pulled himself out of bed and threw on a khaki tank top as he crossed out of the tiny bedroom, through the main cabin's living space, and into a small subroom. With a snap, a digital workspace projected onto the back wall. He took a seat at a chair in the center of the room.

After an eternity, the workspace was eventually covered by a shoulders-up video feed of Molly. “So, what happened?”

“All of it,” Jim replied, running a hand through his greying hair, his big bicep flexing before his hand fell into his lap, his head hung limply. “The most complete set so far.”

“Jim,” she cocked her head to the side, “you need to go see someone. Come back.”

“I can't,” He responded, shooting up and knocking the chair over, pacing to and fro, both hands clutched to his head.

“Muham misses you,” Molly smiled wanly. “Shivan misses you. I miss you.”

“You know I can't,” he picked the chair up and sat in it backwards, arms and chin rested on the back. “Tell Shivan I love him, will you? Muham is a great guy, and he's doing a great job with him.”

“He wants his real father, Jim,” Molly looked side to side before making sad eye contact.

“After what I did, to you...to him...” Jim trailed off. “I can't,” he rested his forehead on the back of his hand, stifling a shudder in his throat.

“But Jim, we've all forgiven you. It wasn't your fault. You were just...you just snapped back...” She trailed off. “So you had the most complete set.”

“Yeah,” he stood up again. “We were at school before I joined up. It still is only coming in flashes but I remember the letters this time,” his smile beamed at her. “I didn't remember your side, but we were so in love.” He turned the chair around and flopped into it. “We were so young.”

“Jim,” she started, “you know...” she trailed off and bit her lip. “We could...” she shook her head and trailed off again. “What else happened?”

“What do you remember before we were pulled out?” Jim fixed a distant gaze at the right corner of the shack-like room.

“Like I said,” Molly furrowed her brow and looked down, “I was in the living room watching the news about some random movie star when daddy came in and told me that they successfully extracted you.”
“But you don't remember hearing anything about the nuclear missile launch?” Jim was on the edge of his seat.

“No,” she squinted her left eye and pulled the corner of her mouth up. “The only thing I remember being mentioned about the DPRC until you returned home was that there was a terrorist attack on their city center like ours. That's all I remember. You know that.”
“I know,” Jim stood up and walked to the rear left corner, facing way from Molly, but looking over his right shoulder to talk to her as he chewed on his fingernail. “I just...it was really vivid this time.”

“When was the last time you visited the farm?” Molly pulled her lips into a straight line and furrowed her brow again. Her face changed rapidly, “Oh hey!” She addressed someone off camera. “I'm talking to Jim,” she waved him away. “Muham says 'hi,'” she scrunched her nose smirked.

“Tell him 'Hi' and that I miss him, too.” Jim waved at the camera with a saccharine-sweet smile. “You were with me the last time I was there,” Jim shrugged.

“Jim!” Molly shook her head. “That was years ago. You need to see them. Go tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Jim turned around to face her. “I'll go see them.”

“Good. I'm going back to bed. Be safe, Ok?” She arched her eyebrows.

“I will. I haven't said it in a while, but I love you, Molly,” Jim arched his own eyebrows and pulled the corner of his mouth down.

“I love you too, Jim. We all do. Come back to the Dome soon, Ok?” She curled her lips into her teeth as her eyes widened.

“See you around, Molly,” Jim said, and with a snap, the video cut out, revealing the projected workspace again. With another snap, the workspace dismissed.

***********************************************************************************

“Jim,” his Dad said as the door swung open. A beat passed between them as they sized each other up. With a knowing look, they both embraced. “I missed you.”

“I know, dad,” Jim said as he clutched him tight. “I'm a bad son.”
Jim's dad released him and held him by the biceps at arm's length, “You know that's not true, Jim.” He had aged a lot, the flesh around his face sagging, his hair white and thin, but the fire still filled him. No hunching like he expected from an aging man outside the Dome. No frailty. “It's different with us, you know that.”

“I know, dad,” Jim said as his dad pulled him into the house. “Tomah is out back with the cows, he'll be in soon.”

“How's Blaize?” Jim folded his hands between his legs as he rested his elbows on his knees in a big comfy chair in the parlor.

“Not a good day,” his dad fixed his gaze at the left lower corner of the room, entranced by nothing. “He had a few good weeks a while back but he's been gone for the last month.”

“I'm sorry, dad,” he cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Thank you for helping.”

“Don't thank me,” his dad sat down on the couch across from him and leaned back. “Thank Terry. He's the one who bought me this glorious farm,” he made a jerky gesture with his left hand.

“You know he just bought this to shut you up, Dad,” Jim leaned back himself.

“I know,” now it was Jim's dad's turn to lean forward. “But I just can't abide by those ignorant Dome-dwellers refusing to acknowledge what really happened.”

“Dad, I don't know what happened,” Jim turned his head and found a point on the wall to focus on.

“You do too!” Jim's dad stood up and stabbed a finger through the air. “When you first walked in my door after your discharge you told me everything. About the robots and the nukes and the boats.”
“Dad,” Jim rolled his eyes. “This is a different reality. They don't know about any of that. None of that happened for them. I'm the only one who thinks it happened.”

“I know what happened,” Tomah walked into the parlor, drying his hands on a towel as he sat down on the couch next to where Jim's dad had returned, throwing the towel over his shoulder.

“And look where that's got you,” Jim smirked and nodded as his eyes wandered off and returned to fixating on the wall.

“Doing what I've always wanted to do,” the burly man leaned back and ran a hand along his hair, gripping his pony tail and flipping the cascade of curly brown and grey locks over his shoulder. “Jim,” he leaned back against the cushions of the sofa, “they will never believe us. No one will. At least, not those who are under the influence of the Dome.”

“Corn-fed fools they are,” Jim's dad stood up and started pacing behind the couch. “Spoon-fed a steady diet of gossip and jingoism, is what they are,” he was emphatically stabbing the air with his index finger as his eyes traced a line along the ceiling. “They refuse to see the truth because they don't want to lose their luxurious little way of life, do they?”

“Dad,” Jim stood up to try and calm him down, “that's not it. That was the combat world. We're in a world of peacetime now. They don't want to break that.”

“This is what I sacrificed for,” Blaize said from the doorway at the back of the parlor. He was wearing a navy-blue bathrobe, leaned up against the door jamb.

“Blaize,” Jim ran over and grabbed him by the elbow. His arms were crossed across his chest.

“I thought I heard you,” his voice was distant, a plaintive smile eased across his vacant blue eyes.

“Blaize,” Jim smiled and hugged him. Blaize unfolded his arms and hugged him back.

“I don't know how long I have,” he said as they broke apart and met eyes. He pulled out a pack of cards. “We have four.”

Tomah and everyone sat at the dinner table through the entrance he had joined them via. Jim's dad ducked into the kitchen and emerged with several beers in hand as everyone found their spot.

Blaize began dealing, “One of the reasons I fought was so that folks in there never had to know what I did out here to keep them safe,” he slung the cards, spinning all around the table with perfect precision.

“But if they knew...” Jim pleaded before picking his cards up and started organizing them.

“Did you see the news, recently?” he dealt the last cards and started organizing his own hand. “One of NRI's engineers discovered a way to send human populations through deep space and there's rumors that they discovered an equation that'll enable realistic faster-than-light travel.”

“And?” Jim shuffled his cards around. Nothing good at all. “Pass, also.”

“And,” Tomah picked up, “that's what can happen as long as we're quiet. 1-Clubs.”

Blaize's face lit up. “Tomah, you tease,” he looked slyly.

“And that's why we're out here,” Jim's dad added. “We have no place in 'polite society,'” Jim smirked at his father's air quotes. “1-Spades,” he met Jim's eyes across the table.

“But at what cost?” Jim adjusted his cards. Ace of Hearts and then nothing else higher than a 10, not even void a suit.

“Five kids and some ethically dubious policy?” Blaize folded his cards to his chest and pulled his brow down. “Seems like a pretty fair trade to me. 2-Clubs, too.”

“That's not the point,” Jim put his hand face-down on the table. “The point is that they are creating all of this nefariously. They suppress the truth and obscure what's happening to a point where no one has any idea what's going on. They perpetuate an isolationist mentality and then cower behind a veil of moral superiority. They claim 'Utopia' on the sedation of the defeated proletariate. They enforce classism and financial inequality by disguising survival as happiness.”

“Oh Jim,” Tomah folded his cards into his palm. “If everyone were equal and happy, nothing would get done.” He smiled as he put his own hand down on the table. “A society of abundance stagnates. There's no need to grow when all of your needs are fully met. There will always be disparity. There will always be inequality. There will always be some semblance of political theater and showmanship. We lie no more, and notably less, than any and all of our allies do to their own people. 3-Clubs,” Tomah pulled the corners of his mouth down in a comical frown and turned his fisheye'd Blaize.

“That's the problem with idealism, Jim,” Jim's dad smirked and winked at him. “Our system is built to make life comfortable for the poor and to make sure the rich are hurting just as much as everyone else,” he shuffled a few cards around and leaned his head back to look at his cards again. “Terry said that, after taxes and all of the money the state requires him to spend on consumer goods as 'capital reinvestment,' he doesn't really make that much more than you or I. Back when your mom died, he said that he had a hard time finding things to spend money on.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. He donned them and carefully inspected his cards. “I know you think that sounds morally abhorent when you think that there are people who could only dream of that much money, but no one in the Dome has ever gone hungry. They all have reasonably comfortable, state-maintained accommodations. Everyone who lives in that dome understands that their sacrifice is shared. That the rich fund the poor and the poor can remain poor if they so choose, and never hunger or want for anything. 3-Spades,” his dad added almost as a mic-drop.

“It's a meritocracy,” Tomah picked up. He had pulled his hand back up and was re-shuffling his own cards. “People vie for influence, not wealth. The rich are implored to cast their monetary votes. The driven thrive and the complacent are still afforded comfort.”

“But that makes the rich disproportionately influential!” Jim had his hands on the table, spread wide, the back of head scrunched tight against his shoulders indignantly.

“That's the point!” Blaize mimicked Jim's gesture, his hand folded and palmed. He rolled the cards in his hand and then fanned them back out as he eyed everyone at table skeptically. “That's why it's called a meritocracy. The people reward genius by bestowing them with money, and those who live their lives without merit are ruled accordingly.” He leveled his eyes on Jim's dad. “5-Clubs,” he said with a sly eyebrow raise.

“But what about inherited wealth? Doesn't that generate disproportionate privlege?” Jim's eyebrows were arched again. “Doesn't that create an aristocracy and class divides and unequal power?”
“Yep,” Tomah picked up. “And that's the point, as well. People vote with their dollars, as well. The things people want are the things that become popular and generate wealth for the person in charge. The people's will is enacted by their own invisible hand.” Tomah looked at Blaize skeptically, scrunched his nose, and held a minute. “Pass,” he said, sighing with effort.

“And that's what the government is for,” Jim's dad shuffled his cards again, looking at them through the bottom of his reading glasses. “They ensure equal burden. Everyone hurts equally. The rich are milked to sustain the poor. And the people vote to keep the elected officials beholden to their best interests. Everything is cleanly separated. The system works.” Jim's dad folded his cards in and gently placed his wrist on the table, “5-Clubs is too rich for my blood. Pass, too.”

“Oh pops,” Blaize made a face, “I know what you have. Take a risk, live a little.”

“Just play your damned card,” Jim's dad squinted and flicked his head.

“The system isn't perfect, Jim,” Blaize spun a card onto the table. “Far from it, in fact. But it's fair where it matters most. And look at the world its built! It's worth my mind.”

“I guess you're right,” Jim threw out his own card, sloughing off one of his low cards diamonds. “It still just doesn't sit right.”

“And that's why you're a hermit living in that damned shack pretending to play pioneer,” Jim's dad threw out a low card, Tomah cleared the trick. “Did you hear about Marion?”

“She finally resurfaced?” Jim pulled his cards to his chest and perked up. “I've been off the social grid for years now.”

“Yeah, we know,” Tomah scowled. He lead out a card, low heart. “She, her wife, their kid visited Adrian at the Nexus.”

“Woah,” Jim cocked his eye at him. “Adrian's at a Nexus? That seems, I don't know, out of character.”

“Yeah,” Jim's dad followed up with another low heart. “He had a change of heart after not getting any traction from the news media. He thinks people will start taking notice if he can turn it around. Restore it to its former glory. He's calling it the 'Nexus Two' council. They're calling him the 'Second Coming.' He's been getting a little coverage now, actually. He's reversed a lot of doctrine. Says it's more about preserving the heritage and 'Teachings,' not the culture and purity.”

“Marion,” Jim shook his head. “What's she doing?”

“She's still in the SU,” Blaize threw out the king of hearts and grinned smugly. “Doing the same thing you are, mostly. She runs a little indie bookshop. Only new works, no classics.”

“Good for her,” Jim threw out his highest heart, the Ace. “Fighting the good fight,” Jim fisheyed Blaize and cocked an equally smug smirk.

“You little...” he trailed off as he brushed the cards at Jim with the back of hand.

“Toni?” Jim lead out a low spade.

“I think she's coaching a team right now, yeah?” Tomah lead out a low spade himself.

“Yeah, after she got out for, you know,” Jim's dad squirmed in his chair uncomfortably, “after the pills thing, she she joined an amateur league. She's still working the printers, but she's coaching it afterward.” He threw out a the Queen of Spade.

“Jerk,” Blaize said as he through out the Jack. “Haven't heard from Standish or Carol or whatever they're actually called since the switch.

Jim's dad lead out the King of Spades. “Good riddance, I say.”

“Wait,” Blaize stuttered and looked at his hand. “Do you?” He looked at Jim.

“Misère,” Jim used a faux accent and a smug grin that devolved into a smile so large it made his eye squinch.

Blaize batted back to Jim's dad, desperation kicking in. Jim's dad's face remained unmoved, looking at his cards through the bottoms of his reading glasses. He quickly, almost impercetibly, batted a glance at Blaize as an ever-so-subtle smile creased the side of his lips. Blaize deflated. “Shit.”