Veganarchy

VEGANARCHY

Copyright 2015

by Chad Descoteaux

BONUS SHORT STORY at the end of this book

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…for more sci-fi novels from this author, like…

THE INTER-TERRESTRIAL

THE TATTLER

THE EXOSKELETON CHRONICLES

WORKING-CLASS SUPERHEROES

…and more.

PROLOGUE

The most popular and most cost-effective vacation option on the lush, paradisiac planet of Larpuk was the Galactic Cruise, a business owned and operated by Larpuk’s most innovative and charismatic businessman, Hudd Vice. Hudd Vice was a beloved public figure on his home planet, partially because of his contribution to both the economy and various charities. Galactic Cruises employed thousands of sentient beings on Larpuk alone and his tours provided business for hotels and restaurants on other planets too.

Today, in the summer of the year human beings would refer to as 2479 A.D., a hydrogen-powered, bubble top flying saucer from the planet Larpuk was hovering past the planet Earth. This was part of a guided tour being narrated by Hudd Vice himself. Always the personable, hands-on businessman, Hudd liked to pilot some of the cruises himself and now, he was guiding his tour past a primitive planet that had seen better days.

And to your left…is Earth, Hudd said to his eager, attentive passengers, speaking into a microphone that hung from the glass dome above. His passengers gawked with bewilderment when the heavily-polluted planet of Earth came into view. Pink chemical emissions swirled with neon green gasses to create a sickly, toxic-looking planet. Hudd started to relate some of the history of this planet as his passengers took pictures of the Earth from above. It has been over three hundred years since this planet was nearly destroyed by its third world war, a horrific skirmish in which the warring parties battled by dumping toxic waste on each other’s soil. An ‘elevated’ form of what they called ‘chemical warfare’.

Talk about pooping where you sleep, quipped one of the Larpukian passengers, causing a few of his green-skinned fellow passengers to laugh. But this alien’s wife was embarrassed by her husband’s crude sense of humor. She buried her eyes, at the end of long, slimy tentacles, into her hands.

But what did not kill this surprisingly industrious race only made them stronger, Hudd Vice continued to speak as the flying saucer got close enough to the Earth that the alien tourists could see its surface. There were enormous, domed cities on the surface of the Earth, popping up all over the planet like clear, glass pimples or warts. Each one of these domes covered over just under a fifth of whatever continent they were on. As the human race has been preserved under domed cities that protect them from their toxic atmosphere.

A collective ooh emerged from the small, pointy beaks of this group of alien tourists as more photographs were taken on various electronic devices these tourists had brought with them, most of them the size of their thumbnail.

But how did they survive? asked one curious member of this tour group, the son of the one who made the poop comment. His eye tendons stretched up high and got Hudd’s attention right away. I mean, who built those domes?

Always the galactic history buff, a question like this from one of his passengers always made Hudd Vice smile.

CHAPTER ONE

BECOMING HERB

There was one imperative aspect of Earth’s global government in the year 2479 the extraterrestrial tourists peering down at us from above could not see. Smog Zone Prison. It was a spec from space, a prison in the dead center of what was once North America, where the worst of the worst criminals on planet Earth were placed. It was an enormous, leaning grey stone pillar that reached for the sky in the middle of a scorched wasteland. It was right in the middle of two of the planet’s most prosperous domed cities, Coast Dome Two and Mining Dome Three.

Sitting in front of the barred window of his dreary cell, pumping the iron that gave him the adrenaline rush that could only be taken out in fights with other inmates, imprisoned animal rights activist Bane Nasseau crushed a thick cigarette in between his teeth. He worked his veiny arms, sweating profusely and making one of his sexier tattoos dance seductively on his chest.

His muscles were enormous, stretching out all his tattoos, most of which had anti-meat slogans and logos on them. The steroids he had been taking before being locked up had long since worn off, but you could not tell. His arms and shoulders were just as big as they were before.

Bane had been incarcerated a few months ago after a failed attempt to assassinate a prominent politician. Bane lived on Earth at a time in which every country on the planet is governed by the World Senate, where each country has representatives just like states or districts in a 21st century democratic government would have representatives in their nation’s capital. But since the Earth’s atmosphere is so badly polluted, the World Senate also has Senators and committees that regulate what remains of the world’s natural resources. There is a Meat Faction, a Veggie Faction, a Fuel Faction, a Drug Faction and a few others.

The politician Bane had attempted to assassinate was Perdue Sanders, Senator of the Meat Faction, who had used his bureaucratic contacts to avoid a Congressional inquiry into a genetic research facility he operated at the North Pole.

The condition of the planet has made it difficult for meat to be available at all. The toxic soil has left animals with nothing to graze on. The radiation mutated most of the animals and created new reasons not to eat meat that wasn’t nearly incinerated when cooked. Senator Sanders had to find ways to provide meat for the people he served and cloning facilities appeared to be the only way to do that.

But there were strict laws about cloning, left over from before the Third World War, that Senator Sanders felt should not apply to a toxic, polluted world where feeding people was such a tall order. He constantly lobbied for amendments to their Constitution that would loosen these restrictions on genetic engineering.

Bane knew what they were doing to the animals, natural and cloned, at the North Pole facility. A trusted friend had given him photographs of the horrible, inhumane experiments taking place there. These pictures had since been confiscated by the Border Cops and turned in to the World Senate upon Bane’s arrest. But this was why Bane did what he did. He wanted to send the World Senate a message that organic life, human and non-human, was to be protected at all costs and he was dedicated to being that protector.

Bane’s spirited workout was interrupted when a small package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with a string for a bow, dropped into his cell through the barred window. It hit the cement floor with a THWAP, alarming Bane. Bane carefully peered out the window, hoping to see who had given him this present.

Hello? he called out, but no one was there. All he saw was miles and miles of barren, scorched, uninhabitable wasteland in the Smog Zone as he peered through the places where the thick green smog had dissipated.

Bane picked up the package and saw a symbol painted on the bottom of it in red ink. The symbol, a cow’s head with a halo on top of it, let Bane know his mysterious, elusive friend, the one who had given him the scoop on the North Pole facility, had sent him this package. Bane had never seen this friend’s face. They had only communicated anonymously through letters and computer networks, but he had proven to be quite valuable in the acquisition of data and weapons for Bane’s missions. Bane opened the envelope enthusiastically and saw that there was a map on the other side of the wrapping paper on this package.

The package itself contained three syringes filled with a green serum, swirling with three different shades of green. A note told him that these syringes contained a ‘plant-based steroid’ and instructed him to take one injection every two days.

Bane obeyed the instructions promptly, as shooting steroids into his arm was no new experience for the muscular felon. Two days later, when it was time to take the second dose, Bane noticed his skin had a rather noticeable green tint to it…and one small leaf growing out of his left knuckle. Loyal to his trusted friend, Bane injected himself with the second dose, a dose that caused long, thin leaves to grow out of his head, out of the follicles that once spawned hair. Bane usually kept a shaved head, but these leaves were unique and symbolized a great power he was receiving with each dose of this amazing serum. These leaves grew quickly and hung in front of his face like dreadlocks before it was time for Bane to take the third dose.

After taking the third dose, Bane felt a certain level of heightened senses, just like the note had promised him. Closing his eyes and concentrating as he peered out into the Smog Zone, Bane could feel something both unique and heartwarming. He could sense the withering plants trapped beneath the surface of the ground. That was about as far as they could grow, given the unforgiving nature of the toxic soil in this area, but thanks to his new power, Bane knew they were there.

Yes, he thought, as if he were speaking to these plants. I feel you, my brethren.

Leaning his head against the bars, he shed a tear for these plants that could not attain the sunlight they needed to thrive. Something about organic life being oppressed in this way by something humans had done to the Earth made Bane upset. He let out a frustrated growl and angrily punched the cement wall in his jail cell. He hit it much harder than he intended to and was astonished when this two-foot-thick wall of cement cracked upon impact. It spider-webbed under the influence of Bane’s solid fist, like it was made out of glass. Bane had to admit that his fist hurt, but it was an amazing display of how the plant-based steroid had heightened his strength.

Focusing his attention on the plants once again, Bane felt a surge of energy trickle up his spine as a little sprout emerged from the toxic surface just outside his cell. Bane bent his finger, slightly pressing it against his prison bars, and this sprout grew a little more. A few more flicks of his fingers against the metal and this sprout turned into almost an entire plant within seconds. Bane laughed out loud, astounded to discover this plant serum had given him the ability to control plants. He could control their growth and direction and command them where to go.

Soon, vines emerged from the toxic soil and wrapped themselves around the rocky pieces of the wall Bane had splintered, poking themselves into the jagged cracks he had made. Bane curled his fingers, tightening his fists until veins popped out of his arms and the vines tightened around these rocks. He then thrust his arms in the air with all his might. The vines ripped the gigantic cement pieces out of the fractured wall, creating an enormous hole there.

Other inmates could hear the loud noises from this immense display of strength and were alarmed. They anxiously peered through their windows, in between the steel bars, to see what was going on.

But Bane did not escape right away. He made more thick, powerful vines emerge from the toxic soil surrounding the prison and, after grabbing onto many more barred windows, these resilient vines ripped more holes in these prison walls, giving his fellow prisoners a much-desired means to escape.

Inmates started to flood out of the prison, looking for the quickest way to vacate the premises. They were startled, looking around in order to figure out what had felled the fortified walls of this mighty prison. Most did not question it and just kept running. Others looked heavenward and made religious gestures before running out into the toxic wasteland, towards their hoped-for freedom.

Alarms sounded and gas-masked prison guards stormed into the prison courtyard wielding high-powered machine guns. A giant cement boulder that used to be part of the prison wall hurtled through the air and crushed the fence that surrounded Smog Zone Prison, allowing easier escape for the fleeing inmates.

Bane was smiling ear-to-ear as he stepped into the courtyard of the prison, proud of what he had achieved in merely a few minutes. So confident he was of his newfound super power that he started to use the vines to hurl more pieces of the fallen prison wall at the guards, crushing them and their vehicles with enormous boulders as the inmates speedily escaped. Bane then threw his arms into the air and let out a celebratory roar.

Many of these prisoners were Bane’s teammates, fellow members of the animal rights group HEAT (Humans for Ethical Animal Treatment) that were jailed for their involvement in the same assassination attempt that got Bane sent here. They were certainly amazed to see a green-skinned version of their old teammate with leaves growing out of his head throwing boulders around in the prison yard with vines he controlled.

One HEAT member, a bearded twenty-something man named Murk, let his curiosity get the best of him. He walked up to the green-skinned escapee with a puzzled look on his face instead of trying to escape himself. Bane? Is that you? Murk asked his old friend.

But Bane saw his newfound plant powers as a complete change of his identity. It was a new life for him. He no longer considered himself human. He was determined, in the deepest recesses of his mind and heart, that he was now a plant. Plants do not kill each other for greed or war with their fellow plant. Some have defense mechanisms, which Bane certainly did with his physical strength, his fighting skills, his proficiency with firearms and his newfound telepathic control over plants. But he always thought of himself as more of a plant anyway, so now that leaves were actually growing out of his head and other plants were obeying his telepathic whims, it was time to embrace his true calling.

Bane was human, my friend, the escaped convict said to Murk with a maniacal grin on his face. Call me Herb! With that, Bane/Herb started calling out to the other members of HEAT Follow me, my brothers! he shouted, holding up the brown wrapping paper he had been given, the one that came with the plant steroid and contained a map. This will be your sanctuary! Your freedom!!!

When Herb ran away from Smog Zone Prison, his old teammates, plus a few other inmates, followed him. Herb was not sure himself what the map revealed, where his secret contact was trying to take him, but he trusted that his friend had his back, especially after the amazing gift of such astounding powers.

Police hovercrafts with machine guns attached to their hulls soon appeared overhead and illuminated the area with blinding search lights. Armed Border Cops from both Coast Dome Two and Mining Dome Three scaled thick wires to land their boots on the scorched ground, but by that time, the escaped inmates were long gone. And hard to find, thanks to the thick and toxic smog.

With a caravan of his fellow convicts behind him, Herb found the ‘X’ that marked the spot on the map he had. It was the remains of a large, one-story building that had been hit by a bomb long ago. All could tell these were ancient ruins, filled with decay and covered in vines. Herb used his newfound powers to move some of these vines to the side, revealing a sign that told him what these ruins were.

It’s an army base, he said out loud with Murk standing behind him. From the last world war.

That got the crap bombed out of it, quipped Murk, still gawking at their dismal surroundings with wonder and confusion.

Murk, wandering around the area, found a vine-entrapped circuit box on the side of this building. He pulled a red lever, not expecting anything to happen to this centuries-old power source. Surprising everyone who was present, a series of flood lights were turned on, illuminating a long staircase that led to a lower level.

That generator is over three hundred years old, Herb thought to himself, mulling over the astonishing revelation in his conscious mind. To his followers, he quipped, Don’t make them like they used to, huh?

No one laughed. But a few inmates followed Herb