Kenlon - revolution radio
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After The Revolution. Anarchy reins supreme, there are no laws -- and its working. People are building cities and living off the land and doing whatever their passion prompts them to do. The land and its resources are governed by a set of ancient documents known only as the GPL, the CC, and Berkleys Law. The Comm Techs. Theyre called commies for short; they run all the communication in the world, exclusively by radio and a device known as the Konsole. The commies dont socialize much; they just broadcast information, and monitor it, and archive it. Its a regional system, and theyre keeping it that way because global communication is considered a thing of the old world. The New World. One commie has a secret: she used to be a member of a controversial revolutionary group dedicated to making sure nothing from the Old World survived after the Revolution was won. But now shes just a commie, up on her mountain Perch, alone. She spends her days listening to broadcasts, archiving information, and maintaining her radio tower. And then one day, the daily broadcast doesnt come. Radio silence. And its up to her to go find out why.
Kenlon: author's other books
Who wrote revolution radio? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
Kenlon
Kenlon
William Merrin
Katy McDonald
Roland Büchi
Brian Schell
commie
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revolution radio
Seth Kenlon
01.01.00
Abstract
After The Revolution.
Anarchy reins supreme, there are no laws -- and it's working. People are building cities and living off the land and doing whatever their passion prompts them to do. The land and its resources are governed by a set of ancient documents known only as the "GPL", the "CC", and "Berkley's Law".
The Comm Techs.
They're called "commies" for short; they run all the communication in the world, exclusively by radio and a device known as the Konsole. The commies don't socialize much; they just broadcast information, and monitor it, and archive it. It's a regional system, and they're keeping it that way because global communication is considered a thing of the "old world".
The New World.
One commie has a secret: she used to be a member of a controversial revolutionary group dedicated to making sure nothing from the Old World survived after the Revolution was won. But now she's just a commie, up on her mountain Perch, alone. She spends her days listening to broadcasts, archiving information, and maintaining her radio tower.
And then one day, the daily broadcast doesn't come. Radio silence.
And it's up to her to go find out why.
Chapter 1. Comm Shack
The revolutionary is a doomed person with no personal interests, no business affairs, no emotions, no attachments, no property, and no name. Everything in the revolutionary is wholly absorbed in the single thought and the single passion for revolution. |
| -- The Revolutionary's Catechism |
My encampment was simple.
Most days, I could see for miles and miles into the distance until the spinning arms of the windmills blocked the horizon from view. But then I would just turn around, and look in the other direction, past my auto-hut, and look in that direction.
All I needed in life was an auto-hut, food, and water. And maybe a rifle, just in case. But that's all anyone really needs.
Sometimes I want something else. I want someone to come walking up the road, a smile on their face. I want to invite them to sit down, have some tea and something to eat, and talk.
At one point, there'd been neighbours and neighbourhoods. There still were, I guess, but not around me. I'd gotten away from those things a long time ago.
That morning, I returned One. A simple little message letting the station over the horizon that I hadn't gotten a signal.
wallmissing sig -o Simple as that. There was no immediate answer, so I left the little konsole and had breakfast.
I liked to eat on the Perch so I could watch the landscape around me. I ate simple things, mostly oats and dried fruit, and whatever greens I could grow in my garden. Very rarely did I indulge in any special food, and not just because I had a limited supply of that; I didn't indulge because I didn't care to indulge.
Self-indulgence is something we just don't do much any more, we humans. I guess some of us have adopted something called self-denial. When you want something, see how long you can go without it. Or see if you can come up with a creative way around to getting whatever it is about it that appeals to you. Or go and get it, and then give it away to someone else, for free, without anything in return.
These were drastic, new ways of living. Not everyone wanted to live this way, but most of those people had died off or had eventually come around to that way of life.
So when a human wants something, it's a badge of honour to not have it. It shows resolve and restraint. It shows a higher consciousness.
Someone noticed, a long time ago now, that if a human wants something, it's usually because they want whatever that thing provides them. Humans don't usually really want something just for the materials that it consists of. They want what it provides.
Watching people down on the plain, on the rare occasion that there are people on the plain, if I wanted to send them to the great Devnull, I wouldn't have really wanted a bullet; I would have wanted somebody's head to explode. Granted, a bullet would provide me with that result, but if I didn't have a bullet, that wouldn't have been an option. Therefore, as a human, I should be able to find another way to make someone's head explode, or their heart to be forced out of their chest, or their throat to be ripped apart, or whatever will result in a quick and timely death.
And that's the mark of a human with resource.
But I'm not a crank, so I wouldn't have wanted these things anyway.
But if I say I want a new rain-cover for my auto-hut but my rain-cover works just fine as it is, then I am seeking a result that I already possess. That is to say, I don't really want a rain-cover, I really am seeking to keep rain out of my hut -- but the rain is already kept from my hut, so why am I desiring a new rain-cover? The answer is that I am seeking the satisfaction of going out and constructing or finding a new rain-cover. If I go do this, then I'll have two rain-covers in the end, which I do not need, and so the thing to do is to find someone with an insufficient rain-cover and give it to them. End of story.
That is the mark of a human with rectification.
And generally speaking, those are the three traits that make us Human.
Restraint, resourcefulness, and rectification.
I sent another message on the konsole.
diff computers humans I didn't hit ENTER, because I didn't want to see it actuallyReturn One. I just hit control-c and imagined
Return Zero.Chapter 2. Perch
The plains were empty, the air silent, and the sun strong. That's how it had been for a very long time.
I was sitting on my Perch. I call it my Perch because that's what I do there, I perch. It used to be what they called a Scenic Overlook. A place for motorists to stop on their way to a campground, maybe, and look out at the world beneath them. Like they could see everything from there.
I used it as a watchout. I watch that empty plain every day, and it's always empty. Once, a few moon cycles ago, a truck drove across the plain, trailing dust behind it as it sped across my world. The truck had been going fast; too fast, because about midway across it hit an unexpected ridge and blew a tire. It tried to keep going, but pretty soon they had to stop.
When they did, you could tell they didn't like it. A lot of people got out and they all had guns. And they all looked around nervously, covering the mechanic that got out to change the tire.
I know these things, because I was watching them like I was right next to them, peering through my Broehm-88 sniper scope. I guess I could have killed all of them from where I was. The Broehm-88 has an unnatural range, I could have shot them at my leisure and they could never have reached me, at least not with the guns they were carrying.
But I'm not a killer any more. I'm just a commie. I listen to radio signals, I keep my tower in working order, I make sure the broadcasts are received and get sent back out on schedule. I fix stuff when it gets broken. That's pretty much what I do.
When you see people from up on a mountain, they're small and don't look like real people. But if you look at them through a scope, you see their faces, you see their muscles move beneath their skin, you see them do human things, like blink, or swallow, or scratch their head, or bite their lip.
Sometimes
they even smile.
When the truck's tire was fixed, which took no time but probably felt like a little eternity to the people with the guns, they all piled back into the truck and it kept going. A little slower, but not by much.
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