Freedom Club (10 page)

“Though you may not agree,” Armando emphasized. “I want to make a managerial call on this and request that you go. Trust me, this is in your best interest.”

“When do I leave?” Sumeet asked. “I’ll have to check if there are open seats on the maglev.”

Armando scratched the back of his head vigorously and scowled. “Yeah...well, that would be another thing I need your help on.”

“No trains?”

“There would be if cost cutting wasn’t in effect. But your rank won’t allow me to approve the workflow. You’ll have to fly.”

“Spaceplane?”

“No! You must be mad! That’s even more expensive.”

Sumeet sunk in his chair. “Oh, surely you don’t mean go by standard?”

“Hey, you still get first class, a private room all to yourself. Take a few pills and before you know it, the flight’s over.”

Armando leaned back in his web chair awaiting Sumeet’s reaction. None came.

“Okay, I can see that you don’t find this interesting. However, in the long run I am sure you will understand the big picture.”

“What don’t I understand?” Sumeet asked rhetorically.

“That’s not what I meant,” Armando said. “It’s just that...unpleasant requests like this are a constant part of the workplace. I get my fair share too. More than you can imagine.”

Sumeet didn’t believe Armando. He suspected that the discussion had some ulterior purpose, but he’d have to wait and see how things panned out. Rather than confront Armando, Sumeet decided to change tack by putting on an appearance of cooperation.

“Fine,” he replied with a sudden burst of enthusiasm. “I’ll make the best of it.” Sumeet stood and headed toward the door. “I’ll just contact the Tokyo office and schedule my arrival.”

“That’s the spirit!” Armando exclaimed happily.

Armando’s filter was back on before Sumeet left the room. It all seemed artificial, and with hushed resentment Sumeet marched outside and straight into the coffee room to clear his mind. Noticing unoccupied window-side foam chairs, Sumeet sat and gazed toward the east. The sun rose slowly in the sky, and the city below buzzed with activity.

“Can’t even take the maglev...,” he murmured to himself.

Consumed in thought, Sumeet felt the mask vibrate and quickly placed it on his face. Seeing Ganesh’s name, he grinned and picked up.

“What now?” Sumeet said. “I hope you have something to cheer me up.”

Ganesh’s laughter erupted. “You must be psychic. I was about to say something like that!”

“Well, I asked before you did.”

“Ach, must I?” Ganesh protested. “Okay, let me think. Yes, well, the problems from yesterday are getting worse. Because it’s looking like LS now, more officials are getting involved. I’m booked all day with these goons. My God! I think I’d rather kill myself.”

“Why would that cheer me up? I mean everything except the part about you killing yourself,” Sumeet said, as a spider handed him a cup of Marsala tea.

As Sumeet took a sip, the Spider’s bulbous eye cluster watched patiently. Sumeet nodded and it happily crawled back to the kitchen.

Ganesh cleared his throat. “Why? I don’t know. You often enjoy hearing about my bad days. Doesn’t it make you feel your worthless career and life are slightly less worthless?”

Sumeet sipped his tea and sank more comfortably into the foam. “Yes, you have a point.”

“What about you, Sumeet? Any misery to repay me with?”

“Now that you mention it, yes.”

“Oh, grand,” Ganesh said. “Tell me!”

Sumeet rubbed his index finger against his temple. “You know, it’s not much different than before. I came in this morning and the first thing he does is belittle me again.”

“Armando? How so?”

“First he starts gibbering about how much value he thinks there is in using a few cheap ASPAU freshers. He feels they might provide untapped value or something like that.”

“ASPAU? Those asinine Goobeys! How’d he come to that conclusion? Is he out of his mind? We have a few around the office here. I enjoy torturing them!”

“Anyway, later he went off and decided to send me to work in our Tokyo office.”

Ganesh’s face bubbled with surprise. “What, really? Oh that’s perfect! In that case I need you to do me a favor.”

Sumeet looked up suspiciously. Ganesh was his friend but some of his favors had worked out badly in the past.

“Maybe. It depends on what you need.”

“It’s simple. Just visit a subcontractor office in Japan. See if they can offer help figuring out any reason why our boards went bad.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Sumeet protested. “Call them yourself! Why would you need me to go onsite?”

“It’s only temporary until I can find a proper auditing agent,” Ganesh begged.

“Find a consultant,” Sumeet snapped back.

“I will,” Ganesh said, waving his hands apologetically. “But I need to get someone over there now! So I can calm nerves around here. Please. I just need you to kick-start some search algorithms and hand it over when I find a more long-term resource. It’s a timing issue more than anything else!”

Sumeet guffawed loudly. “Please! I already have a job!”

“No no, listen!” Ganesh pleaded, both hands firmly clasped. “This is not going to be anything difficult for you. It requires just some back and forth search algorithms. It’s a hunt for anything unusual during our development cycles, not any kind of technical evaluation. Just a few hours. I swear!”

“Now who’s being the Goobey?” Sumeet taunted. “Why not have the data shipped over to your office and do it here?”

“Japanese legal issues, and besides, we need to pay them ungodly amounts of money to get back the IP.”

“So pay them!”

“I don’t have the time to get the approvals for that,” Ganesh gasped. “Please, as a favor to me? You can do it!”

Silence ensued as Sumeet contemplated. Ganesh was his best friend, so he found it difficult to deny him the favor. Especially when it really was no large effort on his part. And besides, Ganesh would owe him something in return. He would enjoy having that as an asset.

“Sentient?”

“They won’t provide one, but you can work with Sulochana. She can do your number crunching and deep analysis.”

Sumeet mulled over the situation. “Well, I am still not sure if I’ll have time, but...”

As Sumeet hesitated, Ganesh burst with happiness. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down!”

“I didn’t actually say...”

“I’m sending a blanket meeting request that will include passes for you and your gear.”

“Are you listening to me? I’m not...”

“Obviously Armando sees the same thing in you that I do,” Ganesh gushed. “You really are the man to get the job done!”

“What? I don’t see it that way.”

“Why not?”

Sumeet considered this. The comments were just meaningless compliments, but they struck a chord and he felt compelled to speak his mind.

“This whole trip is a joke. Going there is clearly a statement about my irrelevance. There is no real business case, and you know how backward the Japanese are. They’re so xenophobic. Their English is poor. And let’s not mention their use of technology. They’ve been falling behind the curve for decades now. Why would anyone want to go?”

“Make the most of it,” Ganesh said. “You can use this opportunity to learn a smidgen of their language, the culture, the food. Surely there has to be something worth experiencing that you can’t get through a filter mask.”

“Not interested!”

There was a pause as Ganesh looked dourly at Sumeet. “Don’t you feel your point of view is a bit narrow?”

“Hmm?”

“Maybe you would benefit by reading some history about technology and its effect on society. Take the Luddite revolt, for instance. You’ll find that the beginning of the industrial age introduced a very bad precedent, namely the automation and the dehumanized work environment.”

“So?”

“Don’t you see its cultural impact?”

“Not really.”

“Think about it. The human side of business was overridden by efficiency in the industrial era. For the first time, there was a clear de-emphasis on artisan skills in favor of machine efficiency and cost. Though there are exceptions, the march of technology has never really stopped. Today we see more than ever before the eradication of language, culture, and face-to-face human interaction. We homogenize and sterilize qualitative factors because work demands only the most efficient and low-cost solution. There’s no deep artistic quality in the work we do. And should it exist at all, it’s eroded to the point of nonexistence.”

Sumeet contemplated the connection Ganesh was trying to make. “Perhaps when the very first full automation was introduced, but is there really a problem with all that? As I recall, automation and machines boosted productivity and created more jobs in the end.”

“Yes, but there are two ways to implement technology. One is an extension of a man, allowing him to do more than he could do prior to the change. The second way is more difficult to handle. It’s when technology is implemented as a replacement for skilled labor.”

“Right. Free markets need to use both.”

“With varying results,” Ganesh stated. “Machines are accepted when no jobs are lost and consumers benefit from lower prices. But job loss is always met with staunch resistance. This was especially true before the existence of so-called perfect markets. Labor never tolerates displacement. I don’t recall hearing you cheer your boss on about the ASPAU freshers.”

“I’m not worried about displacement.” Sumeet said.

“Like hell!”

Sumeet sighed. “I think we’re a sufficiently advanced society and beyond petty emotions.”

Ganesh waved his finger like a schoolteacher. “Maybe so, but the psychological side...the human side of this can never be ignored. No one wants competition if it can be avoided. And the finance industry is just as susceptible to technological effects as any.”

Sumeet found this entire argument painful to hear. Peering outside from his comfortable foam chair, he contemplated his own import. Certainly, there would always be a need for man’s inestimable mind, forged from superior education and experience. But Ganesh’s argument made it sound as though this wasn’t the case, that other factors played a more important role. Could he be right? It was a complex thought, and hard to fully comprehend for some reason.

Sumeet said, “Well, I would hope guys like us don’t need to worry so much.”

“And what about Sentient Beings? The effect they have on humans is not unlike the Industrial Revolution. Even though they cost a fortune, they can easily outperform one hundred highly trained individuals!”

Sumeet sunk a bit lower in his chair. “This is beginning to sound like the talk I had with Ivan yesterday. Let’s see as time goes on. I am confident that when it comes to dynamic intellectual problem solving, humans will always be needed. We’re not calculators, nor should we ever need to act like them.”

Ganesh eyed Sumeet with skepticism. “Spoken like a true human. But I’m not sure if you’re being honest with yourself. Mark my words! When the SBs come for your job, it may be our culture, human culture, that differentiates us and gives us any value.”

Sumeet said nothing. Deep down there was something right about the argument. A truth he was unwilling to face. But still, he didn’t wish to mollify Ganesh.

Sumeet just prayed it would never be necessary.

Nottinghamshire England: Christmas Eve 1811

T
he coach crawled over muddy road, rhythmically heaving over terrain beaten down by generations of oxen, horse, and drivers. This made little difference to the coachman and horse, but the same could not be said of Lord George Gordon Byron himself, who found the jolting motions quite irritating. He much preferred the comforts of Newstead Abbey, with its medieval spires and box-cut gardens, or a smooth ride on a warm spring day through green countryside. Those thoughts were soon dismissed as the evening’s cold and gusty wind howled against his private carriage, and Byron huddled inside his long overcoat hoping to escape the relentless cold.

Besides the jolting road and unsympathetic weather, Byron’s purpose conjured little comfort. That is to say, nothing other than bragging rights over old Hodgson for completing an act of selfless charity. There also would be the collection of his prize, but he just stewed in self loathing over the thought. The libationary events leading up to this expedition were something of a foggy memory. And in what could only have been a drunken stupor, Byron bet a trivial bottle of fine brandy. Peering outside to witness endless fields of muddy ice, the stake seemed wholly inadequate.

It all started out as a dare really. Hodgson, his good friend imbued with the infinite love of God, a trait quite admirable yet woefully misguided in Byron’s eyes, urged him to do something extraordinary during the Christmas season. A charitable act of sorts, one which both the common man and dare say God himself would find Byron in somewhat higher than average regards. At first, he laughed at what seemed pure foolishness, and accepted the challenge with little thought. However, as everyone knew Byron well, he soon found himself being accused of being a spurious humanitarian of the worst sort. The question was not Byron’s philanthropy, but whether he would extract himself from the comforts of Newstead Abbey on a chilly night in lieu of preferred activities. Namely debauchery, drink, and a good fire.