The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma by Brian Herbert

“those problems keep our people working, and keep us unified against the terrorists.”
    â€œJust as long as the opposition forces don’t get too strong.”
    â€œYou worry too much. Since you insist on secrecy, you must leave the countermeasures to me. You take care of your area of responsibility under the Charter, and I’ll handle the rest.”
    â€œSomehow, I don’t feel assured,” Ondex said. He stood abruptly, and left.

 
    8

    Greenforming is like terraforming, making things grow and thrive in human-damaged and otherwise desolate lands, turning barren landscapes into wombs of life.
    â€”a children’s ecology primer
    â€œAS YOU CAN see,” Kupi said, “the Quebec Reservation for Humans is different from most others. This one has a pre-war nucleus of old buildings in the French quarter that were not torn down.” She sat beside him in the rear of an antique, elegant town car with a landau roof, driven by a chauffeur wearing a crisp uniform and cap. He was separated from them by a closed partition window. The whisper-quiet car, like others, had been converted to operate with a non-polluting engine, from a variety of technologies that were allowed by the government—technologies that did not use fossil fuels.
    â€œJust look at this fancy rig,” she said, taking a puff on a juana stick. It was one of the stronger-smelling types she used on occasion, with the scent of basil in the smoke. She waved a hand gracefully. “Posh posh. And this is just the beginning. Wait until you see the ultra-exclusive private club. It dates back to 1735.”
    They wore dress versions of their working uniforms, his green and hers black, both of which included gold epaulets and piping with tree and root designs worked into them. He’d lit a juana stick himself on the train, but had stubbed it out after only a few drags. His stubble of brown beard was trimmed to the length he liked it, giving him a rugged look.
    The long car drove past government-run drug injection booths fronting the street, and Joss hardly gave them a thought. Though he was not much of a recreational drug user himself, many people were, and it was perfectly legal, as long as consumption didn’t interfere with the operation of priorities in the green-oriented society. Every reservation had facilities that provided the citizens with marijuana, cocaine, LSD, alcohol, and a host of other legal drugs.
    The driver took them through an area of aged, stylish buildings overlooking the St. Lawrence Seaway. Behind them, a bright orange sunset splashed across the sky, casting colors over the water. Lights began to flicker on along the shores. “It really is quite beautiful here,” Joss said.
    â€œFor an inhabited region, you mean,” she noted, with a small smile.
    â€œOf course.”
    In the distance, he saw what looked like two large elm seeds floating gracefully on air currents, dropping slowly to the ground. They were SciO Recharge Facilities, more commonly known as ReFacs. Portable buildings filled with SciO technology, ReFacs were heavily guarded by the secrecy-obsessed organization, and used for the recharging of Janus Machine cannons. The existence of ReFacs here meant that there were still industrial sites in the area that needed to be split and greenformed.
    The car pulled into an elegant porte-cochere, where tall doormen in red jackets and tails waited beneath a sign that read TREETOP CLUB . After the car stopped, the men opened doors on both sides.
    â€œI don’t know what the original name of this place was,” Kupi said as she stepped out of the elegant vehicle, “but it was once reserved for the robber barons of industrial and Corporate society, a meeting place where they made plans to pillage resources from undeveloped nations and take advantage of poor, uneducated people. For them and their imperialist, colonialist predecessors, everything was a resource to be exploited.