THE ARGUS PROJECT
PROLOGUE:
Of all the political offices from previous times of human history - chief, warlord, king, president, prime minister, governor, mayor, councilman - only the Kansler's title carried real authority in the late 22nd century. He was the appointed Chancellor of the Outer Defense Ring Charter - a title rarely used - and his jurisdiction stretched across a vast part of the Solar System. From the orbit of Mars to the orbit of Pluto, the Kansler was acting supreme commander of Earth's military forces. A thirty-year career had finally taken him to this, the last remaining position of ultimate power in the Solar System, and he had built up a strong fleet of warships.
And yet, the Kansler's power hung by a thread - for his title would be lost, the moment he made a significant mistake in the eyes of the Terran public. And with Earth at war with its Jovian colonies, his career was at stake. The populace of the old homeworld regarded itself "genetically superior" to the renegade "little moles" who built underground cities on Jupiter's moons, and cared little for what was done to them. But defeat - after having paid trillions of tax credits to sustain attacks and blockades - that they would never forgive.
Time was on the side of the Jovian rebellion; time which the Kansler did not have...
***
"What we need is a hero," the Kansler explained to Boulder Pi.
"What do you mean, Kansler?" the Jovian engineer asked.
"A man who the public can identify with, who can embody the strength, purity and superiority of the Terran fleet. Someone who can rack up my hits and bring us the funding we need to keep the war effort going."
The Kansler's problem boiled down to money - or rather Popularity Points, "hits", the currency of the times. The more popular one was, the more electronic credits one raked in from the world's computer indexes of all humans. A citizen known to nobody, a child or a moron, could earn as little as 1,000 PP - not enough to buy a decent set of clothes. A megastar actress or musical artist, known to billions across the Solar System, could peak a career with a hundred trillion PP. Most citizens of Earth never earned more than 1,000,000 PP during a year; there was not an infinite supply of popularity for all.
The Kansler's PP Index now lay at an unstable 300 billion points - and he needed at least ten times that amount over a period of several years, to fill the war chest.
"Kansler, might you consider shrinking our offensive to just one of the breakaway colonies?" a deputy officer cautiously suggested. "It could be less financially risky to take the system back one planet at a time, instead of all in one sweep..."
"You talk like the underling you are," the Kansler said, stating a fact rather than venting his emotions. "You are an underling because you think small. The public doesn't click hits to small men with small ideas. This is a big project I have in mind - you will understand later."
"A question, Kansler," the deputy asked in a softer voice.
"Yes?"
"About 'heroes'... If one of our combat pilots becomes a war hero to the public... won't the hits increase go just to him, and less to the Fleet itself? Can we get the jurisdiction to, eh... 'tax' his credits earned on our war?"
"I don't give a damn about the legal details and I don't care. Bring me Clarke on the line."
The deputy, earning his wages, pushed the buttons that made the call to Colonel Haruman Clarke of the Martian Security Forces, stationed on Phobos. Ever since Mars won its partial independence from Earth rule, the 2,000-man Security Force had watched over this new nation, ready to squash any further attempts to "destabilize" the Solar System. At the time, Clarke was on an Earthbound vacation - he hated Mars and would not set his foot there. The transmissions nevertheless had to go to Phobos, then back to Earth, as a security measure - and to maintain the public illusion that Clarke never, ever left his post.
"Reporting for duty, Kansler," the stern-faced colonel greeted his superior. "You wish a high-level talk?"
The Kansler looked about himself; only the deputy and Boulder Pi were physically present in the room, plus two of the Kansler's bodyguard robots. A few cam-links to Earth were active, but the universal computer indexes indicated that the public's attention was turned elsewhere - to a sports event on Venus. The deputy made a questioning motion toward the exit doorway; the Kansler merely shook his head.
"Colonel", the Kansler said with a little smile, "I have chosen you to become the greatest hero in the history of war. Should you accept this honor, you will never regret it."
He paused, and waited for the signals to travel back and forth between Mars and Earth. Minutes passed. Finally, the on-screen image of Clarke raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
The Kansler continued: "Colonel, meet Boulder Pi. He's the Fleet's chief cybernetics engineer who's going to make it happen. Mother Earth needs a man a cut above the rest, who is prepared to become a cyborg."
When he heard the word "cyborg," a sneer of dislike crossed Clarke's face - or it might be the sight of a Jovian midget-mutant, standing next to his commander, that disturbed him. Clarke's sneer arrived on the screen after the Kansler had finished his speech, but Clarke had stood still in front of the camera the whole time - before and after. He spoke in short sentences and radiated the patience of a rock, more than most Terrans were capable of. Perfect, thought the Kansler. Of all my candidates I couldn't have made a better choice.
"Don't be alarmed," the Kansler reassured him. "This is no ordinary cyborg we're talking of..."
The conversation that followed was, like most actions made by citizens with high PP counts, available for public view. As the men talked, they could observe their personal hit counters go up... first slowly, then by the thousands per minute. The count reached its peak just after the Kansler mentioned the code word "Argus" in public view.
Enemy agents also had open access to this information. The Kansler was fully aware of it. After all, one of the enemy were in fact standing in the same room. He nodded slightly to Boulder Pi, who had jumped into a set of artificial leg extensions he utilized to walk faster.
Here on the Moon, a midget like Boulder could easily use leg extensions without motors. Boulder Pi listened in on the conversation, knowing some of the Kansler's plans from previous discussions. His chief worry was that the Kansler might succeed, but also that the plans would be structurally flawed and doomed to fail - a potential blow against Boulder's professional prestige and PP count.
In much, Boulder was a man of two minds.
"Boulder?" Kansler asked him. "Would you care to show the Colonel your prototype cyborg?"
Boulder Pi said, in a confident tone: "Sure. On this 3-D model, you can see the working protoype for Project Argus, Model V-NICS - also called 'Venix'..."
"I see," Clarke replied after a while, "but I still don't understand what you're getting at."
"You will," the Kansler said, his glassy eyes glittering with excitement.
The Last Politician
THE ARGUS PROJECT INTERNET EDITION (c)A.R.Yngve 1999, 2000, 2004. All rights reserved. May not be copied without permission.
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