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The Aeolian Master - Book One - Revival


for the city patrolman.”
Bo was wondering what was so bad about that, and then Hurd continued, “He was scheduled to go to work in
the scent tower next week. My God, do you know what the consequences could have been.” He said to Bo,
“Take a note—from now on all personal scheduled to work in the scent tower will take a lie detector test. And
their personal histories will be double, triple, and quadruple checked by the Internal Affairs Division. Got
that!?”
“Yes, sir,” said Bo with no intentions of doing any of it.
Hurd bent over and picked up his notebook, then he pointed at the center screen. “This man is about to go to
hell, and he deserves to go there.”
“It’s most fortunate that we caught him,” said Went.
“No. Not fortunate. God is one hundred percent behind me and my regime. Always has been and always
will be. God blesses me everyday, and He will make sure that we overcome these impertinent, intractable
rebels.”
Hurd sat down. His hand was shaking with anger as he pushed the button and turned the page in his
notebook. A new face appeared in the center screen. “This man’s name is Harold Blessings. Now that’s ironic,
isn’t it?” Hurd’s anger had subsided. “He certainly won’t be getting his blessings today.” Hurd looked at the
notebook. “Let’s see,” he said. “He’s thirty-two years old. He’s married with three children, and he also works
in the clothing factory.” He shook his head. “These people are so stupid. I just wish we didn’t have to make an
example of them. Now what will become of his family.”
Two more families the underground will be sending money and smuggling food to. Bo knew the
underground would also be finding them jobs and helping with the babysitting. He knew this because this was
one of his responsibilities in the underground.
Hurd pushed the button, but this time he didn’t turn the page of his notebook—he didn’t have to. Instead he
half rose out of his chair with a stunned look on his face. The image that came up was a short man with
blondish-brown hair and a red mustache, who was smoking a cigar. There was fire in his eyes.
Hurd looked at Went and Tylr as they made quiet exclamations. “As you must have heard,” he said in a
solemn voice. . .
No, we hadn’t heard, thought Bo. And I’m sure we were never meant to hear about Sam.
Hurd sat down. “and much to my dismay, Juez' son was caught smuggling arms into the city." He paused.
"It is sad for all of us, but I had rather thought he would choose the pits." And then he added, "Where he would
have gotten light duty, of course."
"Of course," reiterated Went.
Of course, thought Bo. Now we know why Juez has okayed the Army and the Air Force.
“I would like to force him to go to the crystal mine, but the law is written that each man and woman will
have a choice, and that choice will be honored. So, there is nothing I can do.”
Bo knew it wasn’t true. Since you wrote the laws there’s no reason you can’t make exceptions when you
chose. He wondered why Hurd would let Sam continue with the run. Did he hate Juez that much?
Hurd quickly jabbed the button switching to the next screen. Obviously he wanted to get the councilmen’s
minds off Sam. After all he did need their votes to further his plans.
But Bo was still watching Sam on the smaller screen. He was not only surprised to see Sam in the run, he
was even more surprised to see him in the number eight stall. Each runner was seeded according to the
computerized predictions. Runner number one had the least chance of making it through the zones and number
eleven the most. Obviously the computer predicted Sam had a good chance of making it.
Bo turned his attention to the center screen as Hurd said, “Look at this one, the muscular build, and the
height, six feet four. He'll make a good wager.” Hurd looked at his notebook. “This man’s name is Gaal
Liebman. He’s twenty-eight years old and unmarried. It says here that the computer put him into the nine slot
because he is an avid reader, mostly non-fiction, and has a great memory, which will be an aide for him as he
makes his way through the run. And . . .” Hurd suddenly made a brief pause, then blurted out in an angry tone,
“What the hell is going on? This man is a city patroller.”
“Another lucky catch,” said Went.
“Not lucky. How many times do I have to tell you? It is God’s will. These rebels will never succeed
because God won’t allow it!”
Hurd waited a moment as he calmed down, then he pushed the button again. And lo and behold this was a
day of surprises.
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