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do.
    He put the device in his backpack, inhaled the cool night air, exhaled deeply to calm his nerves, and mounted his scooter. He drove off his property to the primary roadway, with only one question on his mind as he headed for his place of work.
    Where in the Bunker would the Voice ask him to plant the bomb?

eight
Roddy Light
    …the inevitable intertwining of the production factories of the great corporations with the war-making organizations of each Alliance proved inevitable…
    The History of the Western Alliance, page 499
     
    R oddy had noticed the gradually deteriorating conditions and mood of the populace during his daily walks. His sense of foreboding grew, and with it his concern about his wife’s safety. They’d managed to avoid the common ostracism associated with their childless state; in a population still struggling to rebuild its numbers after the centuries of desolation, there were strong social pressures to generate many offspring. Oswald’s people had let the news leak that a childhood illness prevented Deirdre from conceiving. But this new feeling was something different, something not directed at them for their social improprieties. It was a sense and a mood that the populace’s rising anger at something might soon erupt into a state of war.
    He knew that feeling all too well, and had no desire to have his wife present inside a walled city should open conflict erupt.
    Three months earlier, he’d suggested that they move.
    “Move outside the cityplex walls?” Deirdre’s tone crossed between horror and bemusement. “Please tell me you’re joking. Whatever threat you’re overactive imagination is seeing develop inside the walls is nothing compared to what lies outside .”
    “Are you sure?” He’d seen a slight flicker in her eyes. “You notice it, too, don’t you? It’s not a coincidence that you’ve started taking that armored car—”
    “I have a car and driver because Oswald Silver finds it appropriate for a key Diasteel executive to have a car and driver.” Her tone had turned chilly. “We’re not moving to the Hinterlands, Roddy. My father would be very… displeased.”
    “But you’ve noticed the change in mood, the change in tone. You’ve been more skittish of late, more distant…”
    “I’ve been under quite a bit of strain at work. There’s a… project nearing completion that’s quite taxing and I’ve… not been sleeping well.” Her eyes switched from gloom to mischievous, and she ran her hand down his chest. “Help me out with that?”
    He’d helped.
    He’d finished his daily walk. He’d left Special Forces, but he still wanted to know the goings-on in his city. He watched how people interacted, watched their faces, listened to their words. Where the gleaming towers permitted, he basked in the warm sunlight, and glanced longingly at the walls. He felt caged by walls he’d been told were there to protect him from the Hinterlands, the space outside the walls where all manner of unspeakable danger rested. Roddy wondered if that unspeakable danger was freedom.
    As he sat in his office, listening to the silence of his empty apartment, he recounted that conversation with Deirdre, and others like it. His suspicious mind had moved unerringly to her general nerves and fatigue to the effort to have an affair and try to hide it from him, knowing as she did that he didn’t fool easily. As he reviewed the reports about troop movements, though, he considered an alternative, one less ego-damaging but far more ominous for the world at large.
    He’d made friends in his old life. Friends who had connections in the military and the government and the business world. Friends who knew that his employer was ensconced deeply in each of those areas. Oswald Silver might not be a man of evil intent, but his reach gave him power greater than any president or general.
    His phone buzzed, a unique vibrating signal identifying the caller as a friend from the old life. He had sixty