Free Love Bug by H.E. Goodhue Page A

week. I want that building under siege.”
    “Under siege?” Ortiz questioned. “But sir, if the building is under attack, won’t they lock it down and implement emergency protocol? Won’t that make things more difficult?”
    “Yes, they will, Captain, and that is exactly what I’m counting on. When the Council activates emergency procedures, the first action they will take is to address the citizens,” Eldritch answered.
    “Still sir, with all due respect, I don’t see this adding up,” Ortiz protested. The math of this plan was not balanced. Ortiz was a man that relied upon cold logic and statistics with or without an Em-Pak. “The employment of emergency protocols will make things incredibly difficult, sir.”
    “Not, if I’m inside when it happens,” Eldritch said, his voice smooth and confident. “Like I said, you worry about playing up the Emo threat and I’ll take care of the rest.”
    “Understood sir,” Ortiz snapped.
    “Good man,” Eldritch responded and hung up.
    Eldritch paused for a moment to consider what he had just order ed Captain Ortiz to do, but without an emotional frame of reference, all that could be understood was that each dead citizen would help pave the way to a better future. Surely, they would willingly offer up their lives, secure in the knowledge that their deaths were insignificant compared to the greater good. Beyond that, it really was nothing more than simple math, basic numbers and computation. Some citizens needed to die so that Eldritch could save the rest. The majority’s needs out weighed the minority’s rights. That was nature and there was no need to look beyond that explanation. He would save them from the ERC and their antiquated plan. The citizens deserved better leadership. They deserved Eldritch and had from the beginning, but the ERC Council had denied him his rightful place, his birthright. Soon they would learn the price for this slight.
    Pressing a few keys on his computer, Eldritch called up the Em-Pak database. Countless, randomly sequenced numbers filled the spreadsheet on his screen. Regular citizens would never have had access to these numbers, would never have known the true identities of the ERC Council, but Eldritch was far from a regular citizen.

 
    -17-
    The funeral for Cora’s mother was brief, but left an indelible mark upon her. She had been to other funerals, ones sanctioned and organized by the ERC to commemorate some supposed hero in the war against the Reds and Emos. But these had all been one dimensional, filled with no sense of loss or permanence. The politicians and ERC were simply cogs spinning in a massive machine. When one died, it was just replaced with another and things continued as if nothing had happened at all.
    Unsanctioned funerals for family and friends had been outlawed by the ERC. These ceremonies, once a source of catharsis and comfort, were now deemed dangerous and unnecessary. Citizens were taught to forget the dead. Only those that had contributed to the cause were worth remembering. Besides, with the assistance and influence of an Em-Pak, Cora had never found the means, let alone the need to mourn anyone.
    Now as Cora gazed in the narrow rectangular hole crudely scratched into the earth, she was overwhelmed by the surge of emotions. A crushing sense of loss weighed upon her. Numerous questions that could never be answered demanded to be voiced, but Cora kept her mouth closed, her teeth grinding together as silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
    “So much sentimentality,” Xander said, a note of disgust briefly flavoring his words. “It’s just life, just science. If you’re born , you’re going to have to die. You’re such a child sometimes, Cora. But I guess I should expect that from an Emo.” Xander’s Em-Pak chirped and he stopped talking, but his words had already cut Cora.
    “She was our mother , Xander,” Cora growled through gritted teeth. “That means something.”
    “If you say so,” Xander