Seneca Rebel (The Seneca Society Book 1) (27 page)

I concentrated on adjusting to using my flexer implant. S.O.I.L. was unaware that Dom and I had them, so we were still capable of communicating with one another. After two days full of sending messages back and forth, we had become old pros. We chatted the entire time we were both awake, and, when he slept and I couldn't, I used the time to sync my mind with the various Seneca doctrines and legal texts I accessed through the Seneca Public Library Veil.

Every Senecan had access to these texts via their flexer but, not unlike the Aboves, people generally didn't bother with the effort involved with being that informed. And I’d been no different than the rest– until now.

With my flexer implant, I was able to download information directly to my brain. Information surged into me. Mind expansion now occurred at lightning speed. Unfortunately, I found I had to go back fast and dump useless information in droves because the overabundance of information loading in to me was giving me migraines and obstructing the speech center in my frontal lobe. Good thing I had no one to talk to but myself. It was too much, too fast.

Without warning, the wall to my tiny cube opened up and I was overwhelmed with relief to see the first human being in days, even though it was a S.O.I.L. guard. It was time.

Cuffed and escorted by the men in blue, Dom and I emerged from our cubes of confinement into the hallway at the same moment. We both wore the same sullen expressions, but, the instant we saw each other, that changed. Neither of us had known that we’d been just inches away from each other this whole time. Although we shared a flexer connection, being disconnected physically had left a hole inside me. No advancement in human and machine merger could take away that innate need to be with the ones you love. I so badly wanted to take his hand... and never let go.

It was unnervingly quiet as we walked along the endless golden hall. Consumed as I was by doubt, worry and anticipation, it made every minute feel like ten. I felt prepared, but I still was deeply anxious about the process ahead. We had our bag of tricks, but there was no way we could be certain of theirs. We walked and walked and walked. S.O.I.L. guards, aligned like a bunch of gargoyles, were stationed every fifty yards, their bland faces unreadable.

Dom and I were still barefoot, our boots having been abandoned on the riverside, a million dreams ago. I didn't mind. The cold floor against my hot feet dealt me a great sense of physical relief.

Finally, we stopped. The two men in blue turned us to face the wall. A doorway opened up just as they did in S.E.R.C., only what was beyond this point was far different than anything we ever saw in session.

We were ushered under the golden archway and inside an absolutely awe-inspiring underground temple. It’s towering ceiling was so high, I couldn't see just how far up it went. Luminous, almost heavenly light showered down on us from colossal, ornate salt crystal chandeliers. This light was alive and natural, yet like the carefully placed lamps used by professional photographers, it filled every crevice of our faces, leaving no shadows in its wake.

We were taken to two side-by-side podiums, in a line of twelve total. Dom and I seemed like two tiny black ants, swallowed up in this bright vastness. This wasn't a room. It wasn't even an auditorium. It was a natural salt mine the size of a medieval cathedral. Everything within it was carved out of salt or was a technological piece embedded into the salt. Even the floor was a solid and smooth fossil. The temperature had been carefully adjusted to about sixty-five degrees. Just right.

Elevated before us, carved meticulously along the crescent-shaped wall of pure salt, were two hundred and twelve thirty-foot figures of prestigious men and women. Just as Mount Rushmore depicted four of the United States presidents in granite, these intricate carvings did the same for the original two hundred and twelve members of the Seneca Senate. I would have liked to figure out who each one was but I had too much else to take in. In front of the colossal monuments lay a two-tiered cathedrae in which the actual senate members sat with opaque, flat-screen panels in front of them.
 

This was no longer an abstract body of power, learned about in session but never seen. Comprised of individuals from city and state governments, corporations, religious bodies, prominent world organizations of the Aboves; lawyers, doctors, artists, scientists, inventors, leading researchers and more, this was literally the finest and most varied sampling of the planet's brilliant brainpower. This was the one and only Seneca Senate, and it was staring right at us. They looked prestigious in Seneca blue robes like the ones you'd see on Supreme Court Justices.

As I scanned the faces of the members of the Seneca Senate, The President of The United States, The King of England, The Secretary General of the United Nations, The Dalai Lama, the creator of flexer technology, media tycoon, Julian Hollenbeck. Well over a hundred that I did not recognize, but could imagine were significant for their genius, accomplishments and global influence.

And here I was, Doro Campbell, along with my
boyfriend
, Dominic Ambrosia. We, two unruly teens, faced the most powerful assembly in the history of humankind. I was truly humbled. They watched us so intently, I felt naked. My plan suddenly seemed more like a child's science fair experiment than the genius strategy I had hyped it up to be. What was I thinking? It didn't matter. I was committed now. And what other choice did I have, anyway?

I glanced over at Dom. He looked like he was about to pass out.
 

It wouldn’t help if I didn’t take in as much as possible about who I was up against, so I explored each face carefully. As I had learned during my stint in solitary confinement, that each member, nominated by another member, maintained his or her position in the Seneca Senate until that the member was expunged by a motion and vote by the group. Motions could come from the Senate, or any member of society that provided a petition signed by at least one third of their residential district. When a senator was voted out, the next three seats down each would nominate a new member. The rest of the senate would then vote, and one of those three nominees would fill the seat. Every four years, the Seneca Society chose a member of the Senate to become the Chairman.

Front and center, with one year left in his sovereignty, was Chairman of the Seneca Senate, Congressman Frank Wallingsford, and directly to his right, sat Ellen Malone.
Ellen Malone
. I couldn't understand why she’d never told me she was on the Seneca Senate and I didn't even want to begin to think of why she’d been there when Dom was whisked away from Brittany Gilroy's party. Or why Congressman Wallingsford let Dom be the scapegoat for his own son's fatal error. And even though my blood swelled like lava in a volcano, I kept my cool. Nobody was going to play Doro Campbell for the fool. Not today. Hopefully, not ever.

Every citizen that came before the Seneca Senate was first read their rights and presented The High Doctrine of Seneca Society. A carefully crafted document, that was like The United States Constitution, in that it outlined the laws of Seneca, its judicial structure, and most importantly, the visionary motto that expounded Seneca's purpose–

"To create and sustain a world society in which the people exist and thrive in a singular culture of peace, equality, harmony and inviolable freedom."

Because I had spent my down time in solitude studying these texts in the Seneca Public Library Data Veil, I was primed to address the Senate. While I wasn’t thrilled with some of the methods used to secure Senecan society, and the sincerity of a few of the players in it, a lot of what I had read inspired me. I’d developed a faith in this system, despite my previous doubts. Seneca’s foundation documents persuaded me that if ever there was potential for social progress in my lifetime, Seneca was the path to it. I wasn't about to let a few bad seeds and contradictory ideals convince me otherwise.
 
For my whole life I'd seen the poor struggle, the global economy in perpetual turmoil, while the sick just kept getting sicker. The planet was a helpless victim to millennia of human consumption. But here, in Seneca, the consciousness shift had found its footing and there was serious momentum for change. In Seneca, I experienced first hand living in a place where there was no such thing as being poor, the sick were healed and the economy was driven by forward thinking. The Earth had never seen as great a chance to heal as it did now. I had to grab this torch and run, and do everything in my power to help bring the heart of Seneca to the entire world. I couldn't just roll over and watch all of this progress get washed away by the corrupt agendas of a few.

Speaking of powerful people with questionable motives, just then Gregory entered the hall. Procedure was that all those involved in Seneca Senate sessions were escorted in, even high-ranking S.O.I.L. agents. His walk, which I’d thought was so great when I had first met him, was bitingly annoying now. He strode over to the podium directly next to mine and sneered under his breath, "Funny how things come full circle."

"Actually, it's a
semi
-circle." My disdain for him had multiplied like a viral epidemic since the last time I’d seen him.

I'm sure he wasn't too keen on me either, since I’d pulled the curtain back on his heinous covert operation. Meanwhile, to my other side, Dom looked exceedingly pale and unnerved. He had been profoundly victimized by Gregory and now the guy was just a few feet away from him. Well, Gregory was on the hot seat now and we were in the exact position we needed to be. I tried to grab Dom's attention with a quick barrage of flexes, hoping to replace his apparent agony with reassurances, but he was in no mood to receive them.

Proceedings were soon called to order by a man in a blue suit with the gold Seneca emblem on his lapel. "Senators and citizens of Seneca, your Chairman of the Seneca Senate, Number One, Senator Frank Wallingsford."

Here, in Seneca, Congressman Wallingsford was
Senator
Wallingsford. He had maintained his "Congressman" title in the Aboves. Kind of a sneaky maneuver, yes, but I found myself not rejecting it and, instead, seeing it as one of the compromises along the path to fulfilling the vision of Seneca's founders. Regardless, after what he allowed to happen to Dom, I was looking at him in a whole different light.

As Wallingsford stood, the panel in front of him lit up sky blue to signify he held the floor. "Senators, Seneca Advisory Committee, S.O.I.L. agents and officers, respondents, it is with great honor that I stand before you today and ratify this proceeding." He paused. All of the senators' panels lit up white, then faded back to opaque in an act of respect and acknowledgment.

"Today we have been called to emergency session on an issue of compromised security and internal deception. Parties present include the Seneca Observation and Intelligence League, with Chief S.O.I.L. Agent in the S.E.R.C. division, Gregory Zaffron, responding, and two expelled S.E.R.C. scholars, Mr. Dominic Ambrosia and Ms. Dorothy Campbell. We have received intelligence that demonstrates a breech in the freedom of all Seneca citizens. Agent Zaffron contests that both Ambrosia and Campbell have dangerously misinterpreted security procedures and that they pose a serious threat to the Seneca Society at large. He has requested a motion to be made at this hearing that we, the Seneca Senate, determine a solution to abolish this threat. We have been provided the intelligence from which Agent Zaffron and S.O.I.L. are drawing their conclusions. Now, before we convene and finalize a resolution, we will hear statements from all respondents."

Everyone kept quiet as Senator Wallingsford continued, "First respondent, Agent Gregory Zaffron. As a sworn representative of The Seneca Observation and Intelligence League, and with this motion brought against Ambrosia and Campbell, we, the Seneca Senate, hereby call you to the floor."

Gregory's podium panel lit up light blue. He pulled at his tie to loosen it a bit but still came across as remarkably poised for such a pompous jerk. I just crossed my fingers that his distinguished audience could see through his BS.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate..." He paused between each sentence for dramatic effect. "Today, I am here with a heavy heart. I am presenting information the likes of which I’d hoped never to bring before you. The information we watch for, but never want to see. As you have reviewed in the intelligence we provided pre-proceedings, and can refer to today in the intelligence portfolios at each of your podiums, you can see that these two expelled S.E.R.C. scholars, Dorothy Campbell and Dominic Ambrosia, pose a great threat to the future of our society."

My last bubble of comfort punctured as I felt the judging eyes of the Senate membership directed at Dom and me. Gregory was in the process of bashing us thoroughly, and we just had to stand there and take it. The part that bothered me most was that we couldn't exactly deny what he was saying...

"Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, this expelled S.E.R.C. scholar, Dominic Ambrosia, has identified, investigated and circumvented a highly confidential S.O.I.L. security operation known as Crystal. As you are all aware, one of the main initiatives under Crystal is to combat the Necrolla Carne virus. Many facets of that operation are contained strictly within the purview of S.O.I.L. Ambrosia was a recruit to S.E.R.C. under molecular nano-biotechnology. Our goal was to groom him as a trailblazer in Seneca's biomedical applications division. Instead, by harvesting blood samples and encouraging another S.E.R.C. scholar to participate in his rogue investigation, Ambrosia has triggered a disastrous stream of events. Ambrosia was warned by S.O.I.L. officials several times to cease this perilous path of inquiry. His disregard for such requests was not only an abuse of his privilege in S.E.R.C. and as a citizen of Seneca, but it has created a looming threat to the entire society."

Wallingsford's panel illuminated blue, which brought Gregory's back down. "Mr. Ambrosia, do you oppose any of these accusations?"

Dom leaned forward into his podium. He looked like he had seen a ghost. His voice was low and devoid of its usual spirit. "No, sir, Mr. Senator."