Repost: Edge of Darkness

[M Holmes]

SICK OF POLITICIANS.....


He was standing in the usual mission-control scenery for these
broadcasts.  The anchorman sat at a horsehoe table with four pols.
Three looked very tired.  The other, more animated, wore the standard
blue suit.  Up above them loomed giant screens covered in graphs, charts,
and maps.  Much of the country was dark blue now, bleeding the wrong
colour.  The comp predictions were for a landslide majority.  It
wouldn't be confirmed for over an hour yet, but Harvey knew it was
over.  Money, fear, and the peculiar certainty of belonging to
something unstoppable had won over too many people.  Too many of those
at least still based enough in reality to go out and vote.

The Progress Party had finally clawed its way into government.  The
world would be a different place tomorrow and more people would be
making the short exodus out of reality. Put on a helmet and switch off
the world. See you in five years. Maybe. The Music Pollution Bill
would go through within the week.  Funny how they could twist anything.
Just cleaning up the environment.  Who could complain? Who would dare.

He felt like heading for a gig, for old times' sake.  There were places
where folks would defy it to the last.  Folks would still be dancing,
perhaps more desperately tonight.  Some would have notebooks in the
pockets of the clothes they wore for disguise.  They danced to a
different tune and if you looked closely, you could almost see the suits
they weren't wearing.

He made a short gesture and moved to the Place.  He was sitting on a
small icemoon orbiting Saturn.  Staring down at the coloured bands.  In
the silence, voting results still rang in his ears.  This though, was a
different world.  One that hadn't just been totally changed.  This
program wouldn't have approval.  He even had some music for it, but
silence was what he needed tonight.  They couldn't eliminate entire
forms of music altogether, but they'd try.  They'd be watching for gigs
in the Net as well as the world.  Uniformity would come even here, out
in the rings of Saturn.

Something glinted in the corner of his eye.  Not a tear, it was growing.
Not another icemoon either.  Wrong trajectory.  Someone had invaded the
program.  Trouble? No, it was too subtle for them.  They'd grab him in
the world if anywhere.  Someone had to have some very neat sofware to
get in here.  He wondered who'd written it.  The object was larger now,
approaching him.

Whoever it was, they had a sense of theatre.  A large silver egg was
gliding up to his perch on the icemoon.  Before it collided with him, It
stopped, hanging there in space in front of him.  Suddenly cracks
appeared in the egg.  It split apart and a silver-metal hawk flew out,
looped over him, and dived down to Saturn.  He watched it until it was
lost in the spinning coloured bands.  A hawk, he should have known.
Even if they were monitoring this, they'd never understand.

He gestured and dropped out.  He had to get the chip from its hiding
place.  They'd jail him for sure just for owning this.  He slotted it
into the helmet and tuned in again.  He was standing in a street,
outside a restaurant.  He looked up and read the sign: "Hall of the
Mountain Grill".  He smiled and went in.

Dave was sitting at a table, grinning. "Glad you got my note" he said.
"I'm getting the band back together. I hope we haven't left it too
late".