human race at large that said it just couldn't be done. Self-contained colonies on Mars were an impossible pipedream, without each mini society descending into stress-induced mania, which led to areas she didn't really want to think about. A prison-like atmosphere. The carrot and the stick. Brutal, unyielding authority, like something out of the novel 1984.
Mecklarin took a long swig of his coffee. It was almost more whiskey than coffee these days, but Salle couldn't judge him for that. He was Mecklarin the great man, a magician to the world, revealing secrets to the populace about themselves that only made them throw their panties at him and beg for more.
But perhaps it was all BS. They'd talked about all of it countless times, as the algorithms increasingly suggested steering actions that no longer worked on these hyper-stressed people. Facing the notion that his model for human interaction might be built on unstable foundations was terrifying for him. People, perhaps, were not the creatures he believed them to be.
Salle studied her map of the Habitat and the upcoming event schedule. They'd started going into the office later and later each day, as their research subjects and colleagues came in drunk, late or not at all. At first they'd taken it in their stride, as the two topmost authorities in the psych team for all three thousand, but now it was getting out of hand.
"We could open up the last few areas," Salle suggested, sweeping a hand across the map. "Merge all the levels and throw a four-year blowout party."
Mecklarin waved a hand. His eyes didn't glow as much as they used to. "Chaos. We can't do that, not with things like this. If anything, I was thinking about shrinking the zones."
Salle frowned. "How much whiskey have you had?"
Mecklarin smiled tiredly. "I know. We're all about motivating with inspiration here, not the threat of punishment. But Salle, darling, you can see that's not working anymore. I can't just recharge it. Offer motivational speeches; pump them up about the future on Mars? I've done it on every deck so many times I feel like a robot. It's not working. That carrot is no longer effective."
Salle slumped back. Watching him drink Irish coffee made her want to drink too, but that would be no kind of answer. She'd had her fill of screwing around in the first few months.
"So close the zones," she said, scanning the map. "Offer a warning. Back to third positions, or second?"
"First," said Mecklarin.
"First? That's eight separate pools of around four hundred people each. You know half of these people have made relationships across boundaries? Look at you and me. You'd be breaking us up. And how would we even do it? We don't have much of a police force down here, and those we do have will hardly be on our side. We can't hope to force everyone back across their boundaries."
He nodded. "I know it, Salle. I've thought about it for weeks. But the algorithms are useless now, they can't predict a thing. We're left to our best judgment, and I'm down to thinking the stick is the way, and if you're going to use the stick, then damn well use the stick. We announce the barriers are returning to first positions, we let people choose their zone, and let the chips fall where they may. It's a last stand, really."
Salle frowned at him. "This is the whiskey talking."
"Do you think? Salle, you've heard the rumors. People are scared, and you can't motivate scared people with a distant hope. You can only let them run or contain them. But how long can I contain unruly people, no matter what contract they've signed? There are video feeds of all this going out, you know, my grand experiment. Millions are watching out in the world. They could come down and arrest me at any time, if I breach human rights. I can't let things get out of control. Returning to first positions, that's not illegal. If it tamps the fuses down a while, then we can think."
Salle shook her head. "That's bullshit. This is important, you told me
Mecklarin took a long swig of his coffee. It was almost more whiskey than coffee these days, but Salle couldn't judge him for that. He was Mecklarin the great man, a magician to the world, revealing secrets to the populace about themselves that only made them throw their panties at him and beg for more.
But perhaps it was all BS. They'd talked about all of it countless times, as the algorithms increasingly suggested steering actions that no longer worked on these hyper-stressed people. Facing the notion that his model for human interaction might be built on unstable foundations was terrifying for him. People, perhaps, were not the creatures he believed them to be.
Salle studied her map of the Habitat and the upcoming event schedule. They'd started going into the office later and later each day, as their research subjects and colleagues came in drunk, late or not at all. At first they'd taken it in their stride, as the two topmost authorities in the psych team for all three thousand, but now it was getting out of hand.
"We could open up the last few areas," Salle suggested, sweeping a hand across the map. "Merge all the levels and throw a four-year blowout party."
Mecklarin waved a hand. His eyes didn't glow as much as they used to. "Chaos. We can't do that, not with things like this. If anything, I was thinking about shrinking the zones."
Salle frowned. "How much whiskey have you had?"
Mecklarin smiled tiredly. "I know. We're all about motivating with inspiration here, not the threat of punishment. But Salle, darling, you can see that's not working anymore. I can't just recharge it. Offer motivational speeches; pump them up about the future on Mars? I've done it on every deck so many times I feel like a robot. It's not working. That carrot is no longer effective."
Salle slumped back. Watching him drink Irish coffee made her want to drink too, but that would be no kind of answer. She'd had her fill of screwing around in the first few months.
"So close the zones," she said, scanning the map. "Offer a warning. Back to third positions, or second?"
"First," said Mecklarin.
"First? That's eight separate pools of around four hundred people each. You know half of these people have made relationships across boundaries? Look at you and me. You'd be breaking us up. And how would we even do it? We don't have much of a police force down here, and those we do have will hardly be on our side. We can't hope to force everyone back across their boundaries."
He nodded. "I know it, Salle. I've thought about it for weeks. But the algorithms are useless now, they can't predict a thing. We're left to our best judgment, and I'm down to thinking the stick is the way, and if you're going to use the stick, then damn well use the stick. We announce the barriers are returning to first positions, we let people choose their zone, and let the chips fall where they may. It's a last stand, really."
Salle frowned at him. "This is the whiskey talking."
"Do you think? Salle, you've heard the rumors. People are scared, and you can't motivate scared people with a distant hope. You can only let them run or contain them. But how long can I contain unruly people, no matter what contract they've signed? There are video feeds of all this going out, you know, my grand experiment. Millions are watching out in the world. They could come down and arrest me at any time, if I breach human rights. I can't let things get out of control. Returning to first positions, that's not illegal. If it tamps the fuses down a while, then we can think."
Salle shook her head. "That's bullshit. This is important, you told me
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