The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma by Brian Herbert Page B

country, caused by Corporate interests, criminals living in the wilderness, and other groups that didn’t like Rahma’s new form of government, one that was unlike any in the history of human civilization.
    At one time, this northern region of the Green States of America had been part of Canada. Even before the massive, ragtag revolution against the Corporates, it had been one of the nations that showed concern for the environment, and took steps to protect it. Most of that impetus, however, came from the common people, and less so from the government, and only grudgingly from Canadian and multinational Corporate interests that had operations in the country. When the Chairman’s regime took over, this region still needed considerable cleaning up, but not nearly on the scale of the blighted regions to the south.
    The maglev train in which Joss rode could have completed the four-thousand-kilometer journey in less than a day, but it made stops along the way to drop off some of the Janus Machine crews and their machinery at work sites. He and his crew had not been among those with assignments, owing to the demanding schedule of splitting and greenforming they’d already endured in the east. As a reward for their hard work they were bound for their homes in the Seattle Reservation and a brief vacation. Within the hour, they had just returned from a sumptuous dinner in the dining car, and Joss still felt the warmth of roast pork and a fine Pomerol wine in his belly.
    At the moment, Kupi sat across from him at a passenger compartment table, dealing samba cards to him as well as to two other male members of their crew, the tall, jocular J-Mac driver Bim Hendrix and an aging mechanic for the non-proprietary vehicle systems, Sabe McCarthy. The deck of cards had photos of filthy, smoke-belching industrial sites on the backs, each with a red line across it; other decks depicted notorious Corporate tycoons, eco-criminals, and Army of the Environment military victories.
    â€œDoesn’t it ever strike you as curious that we get to eat meat,” Kupi asked, “while hundreds of millions of other people are told to eat protein substitutes?”
    â€œNot at all,” McCarthy said. “We work our butts off for the state, and deserve the few perks we get. We put in longer hours than other folks, get more important work done.”
    â€œRight,” Hendrix said, picking up his cards and sorting his hand quickly. “Kind of makes you wonder, though, doesn’t it? What if we got fired and had to eat regular food?”
    â€œPray to Green that never happens,” Kupi said.
    â€œThe sarcasm of Kupi Landau,” McCarthy said, scowling as he studied his cards.
    â€œBe careful,” Kupi said with a tight smile, “I do have a talent for violence.”
    â€œAnd for dealing bad cards,” McCarthy said.
    Annoyed, Kupi narrowed her gaze and stared hard at him.
    â€œEnough of that,” Joss said. “Let’s save our hostilities for industrial sites, OK?” He didn’t like the way the conversation was going. His crew had been on the road for nearly a month, and with the accumulated fatigue, emotions had a tendency to get raw.
    Grunts of affirmation passed around the table, and the samba game proceeded. Fortunately for Kupi’s state of mind, she made a number of good draws and captured the pot, which enabled her to meld cards on the table. As her simulated wealth accumulated she began to smirk at McCarthy, but he didn’t react.
    The train slowed down on its maglev rail. Joss heard two bells over the public address system, followed by a woman’s voice. “The signaler is routing us onto a siding, ladies and gentlemen, to wait for a relocation train to pass.”
    â€œIt has the right of way,” Hendrix said.
    Everyone at the table knew that. Relocation trains were full of people who were being moved from their previous homes in polluted areas onto new