Almost seventy years have passed since 1984, the classic dystopian novel about a totalitarian future society, was published. Since then, the world has changed-and so has the future . . . In this second novel of the Joad Cycle, teenager Gil Rose and his great-grandfather, Bernie Rosenthal, have taken revenge on the chairman, but not without a price. They are now fugitives. They flee to northern Maine, where Bernie tries to instruct Gil so he can lead the rebellion. But Gil prefers to hike the hills of Maine with his friends and make virtual love to his avatar girlfriend. Everything changes for Gil when HomeSec, the omnipresent homeland security watchdog group, discovers his whereabouts. When he learns that an assault team is on the way to capture him and destroy the town, Gil flees the destruction. He begins a new life on the road as a fugitive, always striving to stay even one a step ahead of HomeSec. But he soon learns that no one can be trusted. He's captured by former terrorists and held prisoner in the business town of Profit, a society based on the rampant greed of unbridled capitalism, autocratic government, and the new Christian religion, called Morgan. Gil's struggles expose how greed, ego, and the selfish appetite for power have impacted the country, but his adventures also show the power love can have too. His modern love story ultimately restores freedom to America but, more importantly, restores its goodness.
Profit
Book 2 of the Joad CycleBy Gary LeveyiUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Gary Levey
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4620-3396-6Chapter One
Angel Falls, Maine — 2070
He came to life at first light and directed his solar cells to gather what little energy the cool dawn provided. When lifting power was achieved, he hovered, unsteadily, to access more of the sun's enabling rays. Impatient to earn what the day would provide, he headed towards the less charted Unincorporated Lands south of Canada.
Flying high above the emerging Gulf of Delmarva, he transmitted his coordinates so the core, Gecko, could transmit back today's to-do list of revenue opportunities. He earned his first commission of the day transmitting maps of the Mid-Atlantic coastline to update the model projecting long-term capital implications of the rising tides. Then he was off, confirming his assignments, and heading north and east toward New York, Boston, and points beyond.
With little recent terrorist history, Maine was not normally an assignment, but what few opportunities existed there had the potential for large income generation. And he could always identify conditions of potential aberrance for cataloguing and analysis. That didn't pay much, but it would cover his overhead, so he spent the day soaring through blue skies, among the high clouds and over green hills, diligently investigating opportunities that might provide value to the core. As much as anything, he was hoping to get lucky as he luxuriated in wave-after-wave of energy that rushed over him, as he crossed countless reflective bodies of water that bounced life-affirming sunlight up to his collectors. After passing over five or six small lakes in short order, the massive rushes of energy had him shivering, drunk on the power of the sun.
The day soon lost its energy, and his financial expectations waned as well. There were Waster Towns scattered below, but nothing suspicious, so as he approached the Canadian border with the sun now setting, he calculated the day's points earned and dutifully reported. Feeling something akin to disappointment, he turned and headed home. But as he was banking high above the tall pines of northern Maine, he detected curious motion in the distance. Perhaps it was work for another day, but reward was reward so he pressed on ...
The teenage boy and girl raced from the Angel Falls Meeting House, and out to the evergreen hills. They hopped fences, avoiding the livestock, as they sprinted until they reached the tree line. From there, they hiked the rolling sugar loaf hills between the lakes, discovering ravines for which they scrambled up and down utilizing rocks, branches, and each other for support. Here in nature's secluded calm, there was laughter as the two teens frolicked like the young of old, and even at a distance, could easily be identified one from the other, for though they were the same height, she was thin and blonde, and he was broad and dark. Gil Rose was nineteen years old and for the first time in his life, he had a real friend.
Five years had passed since he had met his great-grandfather, Bernie, at the hospice in Indiana, and rescued his grandfather, Mark, from a prison within a lavish mansion. Gil was tall, taller than the other boys of Angel Falls and aided by fresh air and outdoor hikes; his muscles had massed nicely. He was no longer the indoor, city boy who tended a tiny secluded garden after dark.
For all the fun and freedom a real, live friend provided, Gil remained intimate with his first love, Andrea, the joy of his life. In virtual they shared everything with each other, and outside the virtual confines of that cyber-world-within-the-mesh, Andrea was constantly in his thoughts. But on this summer day, after a brief, but torrential rainfall that had left the world smelling perfect, like a spring renewal, he preferred this live world to the old Virtuoso unit in his cabin, which provided a less satisfying replication of nature. Bernie had explained the lack of virtual realism as a bandwidth issue, something about frivolous rendering and wave transmissions, but whatever it was, here in real nature, Gil's senses reveled in the breathtaking depth and detail. With him, sharing this wonderment of reality was a live, local girl; his best friend in the real world, Stacey.
From the bed in his cabin, old and frail, Bernie stared through the window at his only view, the verdant hills that surrounded Angel Falls. Like too many times before, Gil was late and there was a good chance he wouldn't show at all. If Gil even spoke, his excuse would be that he had better things to do than to be lectured about his role in the world. So much like Bernie waited for death, he waited for Gil. He was over a hundred years old, and every minute should have been precious and the lost ones irreplaceable. He wanted to feel that way especially since every lost second was so vital, seeing as he had been hiding from an autocratic government that had issued a death warrant for him. But too frail, he waited, alone, and it was terrifying, as the diminishing seconds of his life ticked away.
Where was the boy? Bernie Thought. He's probably having sex in Virtual again, or with that real girl, heaven forbid.
From that day, five years earlier, when Bernie and his teenaged great grandson arrived in Angel Falls, he had worked diligently, but unproductively to enlighten Gil about his potential, the future, and more importantly, Gil's responsibilities. Bernie understood that the poor and oppressed in America had no choice but to hope for the savior that he was grooming.
But it wasn't working. Gil was immature and resentful that he wasn't home with Howard, his father. That and he had been so enamored by the capitalist-nurturing world he grew up in, that he trivialized everything Bernie pleaded for. On top of that, Gil had difficulty focusing, which caused Bernie, who was already exhausted most of his waking time, to expend effort as he struggled to find ways to kindle a spark of humanity in the boy. Gil had to succeed. The senseless deaths of forty million Americans, including the two most important, his beloved wife Jane, and his beautiful daughter, Franki, had to be avenged. The genocide was partly his fault; his past failures helped to put Andrew Crelli in power and cost Bernie his family. Even now, a worse evil in the guise of current Chairwoman, Tanya Brandt, had taken over for Crelli, and that was clearly his responsibility too. But that was for Gil and another generation to set that wrong right. America could be saved. There was still a flicker of hope, if only Gil would understand.
What made it harder was the boy was all he had and yet he was so closed. And so Bernie's instructions became lectures to a boy who didn't care and frequently just stopped listening. Gil was a tougher nut than this tired old man could crack, but the stakes were too high, so exhausted or not, Bernie had to persist. In truth, it was the only thing keeping him alive.
He smiled at a fleeting memory, as they all were these days. Angst and his old career had taught him patience and prudence. He remembered explaining it to his loving wife, Jane, once long ago. "Never try to teach a pig to sing," he had said to her as she smiled, knowing his aphorisms better than he, "because it wastes your time, and annoys the hell out of the pig." He smiled in the absence of her laughter, but he felt sad and hollow as the smile ended in a productive cough. He couldn't give up on Gil; in these days, becoming a hero can't be easy....
