Solomon's Keepers (22 page)

He watches the big Sensomondo final in the back of a stretch limousine as they drive back from the airport. The boy who wins is a handsome sports jock called Wayne. Part of the programme follows him skiing in the Alps – which would have to have been some months ago. Where is he now? The idea was to perform the implants as soon as possible after the series concluded. Matzov doesn’t want his publicity machine cooling down before these guys are on stream. Rees knows some of the crew have been diverted several times to work with the newcomers but nobody wants to tell him anything. The programme reprises Wayne’s moments of triumph throughout the series; Wayne’s lightening reactions on the skid pan; Wayne’s kick-ass strength in the gym; above all, Wayne’s penchant for impromptu nakedness. People say it is his outsized cock that has won him the place. His supporters have issued tee shirts that read ‘You Can Keep the Brain.’ His finale, which the compere keeps reminding everyone Wayne has designed himself, has a crowd of girls eat him out of a massive jelly which quivers to the beat of loud rock music. Wayne’s head, with its ingenious snorkel, is the last thing to appear.

The girl is called Sam. She goes for sophistication and allure; her backers know some things are worth waiting for. The programme follows her as she is pampered and plumped in various luxurious spas, always at a distance, always with subtle music and a fragrance you can pick up through the television. No tee shirts.

Twenty

The British Prime Minister’s country residence at Chequers is an elegant red brick mansion set in formal grounds amongst rolling wooded countryside. The approach is down a long gravel drive. The evident security is understated and an approaching car only stops briefly to be checked by a single police officer and waved on. This one is an anonymous mid-range car for ferrying mid-ranking government servants. Its occupant is Cosworth, or Cos, a man in his early thirties with a fidgety manner. He keeps doing something with his neck, stretching his head to one side as though to loosen a tight spot in his shirt collar, though he wears no tie. He sits on the back seat with his legs spread wide, tapping the side of a leather briefcase that leans against his thigh and ignoring the glances at him in the rear view mirror from the ex-police chauffeur.

Cos isn’t here to see the Prime Minister; he’s here to meet one of his advisors, a man called Hodge. His job is to fine tune winning election messages. Today he is attending a messaging review, a seminar, a workshop, a manifesto brainstorming session or some other such event which Cos envisions as a handful of ministers and their insiders along with party flunkies and their priorities, reports, action plans, minutes abstract nouns, exhortations, and associated bullshit. The labels, the people and the process really don’t matter because Cos isn’t into party politics and he won’t attend the meeting, whatever it is, that Hodge will break out of to see him. Cos works for Matzov.

The openers in any negotiation are location and timing; this place has the right air of enduring authority about it. The routine of the inconspicuous car sent, the preamble, and the welcome at the Tudor threshold in the midst of this activity are all part of the signal. He’s been tapping his fingers all the way from Heathrow airport and probably most of the flight before that. He hasn’t exchanged a word with the driver since a grunted acknowledgment that his was the name on the card held aloft in the arrivals lounge.

They pull up at the end of the drive and Cos waits for the chauffeur to open the door for him and wish him a successful visit. He pulls out his earphones and asks if this man will also be the one taking him back to the airport in an hour. Yes, Sir, it will.

Cos gives a little nod, triggering another stretch of the neck, manages a ‘good, get a hold of some mints, will you?’ and sets off towards the door where he imagines Hodge’s assistant will already be waiting, just out of sight.

The assistant is tidy enough: twenties, skirt and white blouse, lipsticky smile and effusive guff about the weather and the journey. Hodge is down a corridor in a room on his own. He does a bad impersonation of a yank in his chinos and golf shirt – the usual outfit these new stiffs think makes a Saturday talking session creative. He’s a good-looking forty-something, taller than Cos, with indoor complexion and that quiffy public school look with an early trial of patrician grey at the wheel arches. Eyes look smart. Call me Graham, like it’s a privilege. He does the waffle that people do in posh places that aren’t theirs: Tudor, Gothic, Cromwell, prison, hospital, gift to the nation…blah.

‘Very nice’ Cos says, studiously avoiding looking around the elegant surroundings. ‘We’ve got an hour, right?’

Hodge beams. ‘Yuh. If we need a little longer, I’m sure I can be spared. They can always move my bit back.’

There are two burgundy leather easy chairs and a coffee table. Hodge gestures to sit and does the tea or coffee bit. Cos wants a coke. He lets Hodge open with the auto-babble.

‘I understand the Prime Minister and Mr. Matzov had some time together in Paris. And they are to meet again. The Prime Minister certainly felt there was a good meeting of minds. He’s keen we work through some points and get an understanding of a useful agenda so their next meeting can be as productive as possible. As you know, we’re putting the final touches to our campaign – we feel your field is throwing up some interesting, er, questions. So now is a particularly good time to get some…to get your input on where you see this whole area of…simulcasting…where it’s all going. How government can help. We see a lot of potential, an awful lot of potential in what you’re doing and of course we want Britain to stay at the forefront. At the same time of course there are obviously a number of points of view to take into account, which we are doing, and some questions and issues to work through…’

Cos, for the first time, looks around the room very deliberately and takes in the antique books, the huge stone window frame that looks on to the grounds and the oil paintings of what he imagines are former prime ministers or perhaps former owners of the estate.

‘Britain isn’t at the forefront.’ He says.

Hodge covers an internal gear change with a pause and a thoughtful nod.

‘Ah well, in market terms, in terms of the early start here and the uptake we must rank as… And there is all the background, isn’t there? I mean KomViva is a British phenomenon.’

Hodge conveys the impression of inside knowledge. Cos looks unimpressed.

‘We made a start here and the public’s cool but it’s all been uphill. Last to come off the black, highest taxes, slowest approvals, even after the EU okayed the second generation receivers. We don’t get enough support. The UK will rank fourth in Europe by the end of this year. Projections are a blip compared to the US and worldwide.’

‘Are you active in the United States already – mainstream?’

‘Course. Only just shipping but they’ll do more than Europe in the first year. It’s awesome. California alone could take all we can ship out of current production. We’ll have eight more plants on stream this year. Guess how many in the UK.’

‘Well, exactly. We do want to address that point…’

‘None.’

The assistant arrives and places a tray on the coffee table between them. Cos watches her as she rustles away. He takes a blank writing pad out of his case.

Hodge leans forward. ‘Cos, I hope we can speak candidly. We recognise that the time has come to take a more positive stance on this. If we’re not where we ought to be – in market terms or in any other, then there’s an opportunity to change things. We are approaching this election with a great sense of urgency and with our minds open. You know the polls give it as a close run thing – but our research and our view is that we can really win it. We have some bold ideas that we haven’t made public yet. I think there’s scope for more of a meeting of minds than there’s been in the past. I’d like to hammer out what we, and you, really would need to do to make it a successful partnership in this country. I thought it would be useful to cover…’

‘Leaving Network One out of the equation, right now we have you down as most likely to lose. But we’ll build relationships with all sides and we’ll put our ideas to all parties. It’s not in my gift to say what Mr. Matzov will do and where he’ll put his support. I think it’s more open this time than it’s ever been – but that’s only my take. But I’ve got some things I’d say you should think about for your bold ideas.’

Cos writes a list of headings in large letters on the front page of his pad, places it on the table and turns it so Hodge can read them.’

Votes – Business – Environment – Health – Law

‘This looks encouragingly straightforward. Shall we step through them? I will perhaps have something to add at the end.’

‘Votes, right? There’re a million Hookies already in this country on KomViva and everyone knows Sensomondo is the future and that it’s going to continue to explode. You’re either the party that embraces that and handles all the issues and makes it happen faster here, with all the jobs and momentum that creates, or you’re standing in the way and watching it go past you. How many votes are there in missing out on leadership of a worldwide phenomenon?’

‘I think we are agreed on the desirability of a solution.’

‘Business: The manufacture and distribution of devices for every urban household. The biggest single consumer of bandwidth for the telcos, enough to sponsor the entire Petanet rollout. God knows how much superstructure business to be had. A no-brainer. So get the red tape out of the way, sod the rural agenda, have-nots and all that crap and start talking sensibly about helping us invest in the major urban centres and enabling the whole support infrastructure and the job creation that goes with it.’

‘In policy terms we see the main issues as licensing – obviously the whole question of allowing competition for future suppliers and avoiding an unlimited monopoly situation – and in ensuring balanced coverage – and since you mention the issue of coverage in non-urban areas. We need to ensure that…’

‘Fucking hell, Graham! Head up arse or what? What you need is something the public understands. Bold ideas? You need a new ministry to push this. Mass connection is the big deal of the 21st century. People want to share experience. You got kids? Then you know: text, chat, reality television, social websites – and all that’s crap. But they still do it. It’s a new basic. How many people you got in your party? We get more hooked up every time on a scat than you have paying members, right. Why do you think that is? And our people are open to persuasion. Know what I’m saying? I read a thing about elections. You’d know all about it. There are forty-five million UK voters but the number of votes that actually makes the difference has never been more than two hundred thousand. You need the PM inside their heads. Hello? What does Sensomando do? Christ, every brand manager in the business knows that! When are you going to start taking this seriously? You need to put it at the top of the agenda. That’s what everyone else is doing. You want to win or not?’

‘We’re not brand managers. We’re a government. We have to move forward balancing a number of points of view.’

‘Sounds more like a circus.’

‘I’m not ruling out a radical approach. We’re open-minded. And the timing is propitious. Just allow that if we need to accept some business realities then you need to meet us on some of the political realities too.’

‘Environment: Here’s one of your biggest cards, surely. We entertain a million plus at a time – not two hundred thousand, right? – But it’s only based on the consumption of one person and few support people. It’s like burning one fire and keeping the whole world warm, or filling one car and taking everyone for a drive, buying one ticket and flying the whole population round the world. I’m amazed we have to keep preaching that so hard and you guys don’t seem to pick it up. It’s greener than a cucumber on a bicycle.’

‘I do see that point,’ Hodge says, I think we could emphasize that strongly – perhaps in mitigation of your next point.’

‘Yeah, Health: There’s so much twaddle on that it’s not true.’

‘There have been some well-documented problems. You’ve got the immediate issue of all these reported cardiac arrests and a real feeling that there’s substance to the stories of mental problems – and no one has a clue about the long term effects. Common sense tells you there are questions to answer. There is real anxiety out there. People are looking for some public debate and some proper answers. We’re not going to get away with just waving it through. Look at all the law suits coming through about mobiles now. In your service people have these helmets over their heads for hours on end. Some of them hardly take any exercise any more. Their minds rev up as though they’re doing all the stuff for real and pump their bodies full of adrenaline and they don’t do anything to work it off. And then there’s the whole question of the supplementary drugs and the culture we now have around sensory enhancement. I get more spam on that than I ever did about Viagra. We can’t just ignore it. But we’re obviously keen to clarify how to use these things safely – some sensible guidelines.’

Cos looks as though there’s piss in his coke. ‘Yeah, so long as all that’s going on behind the bus and not in front. How long does it all take? The Dutch and the Poles checked out the first generation boxes and cleared them. The new ones are better on all counts. The EU’s had a committee on us for nearly a year and can’t prove anything. Strasbourg upheld our appeal in France. We don’t have a problem with you making all the right noises, but just keep the bus moving.’

‘There is a real issue. I think you need to recognise that.’

‘Graham, you take a sample of a million people wearing a paper hat for two hours and a certain number of them are going to have heart attacks or lose their marbles. It happens every Christmas, right? What you don’t do is ban Christmas crackers. Now, we keep our own data on all this and we also now have the New Frontier Health Foundation that looks at all this in the round. Here’s something for you. Matzov set up the Foundation because he wants to steer by real information and keep improving the service. But right now it’s low key and only nerds know about it. What you could do is make a public noise about it. You could make it a story – say by appointing some independent accredited experts in the field, I can give you the names, switching it to a publicly-funded body – reporting in wherever. They come up with safety features they can stamp their feet about and we have to implement. There’s a few of those already we’ve been blogging up for the next release. You could be seen to be driving it.’

Hodge is jotting notes on his pad. ‘The Foundation now is what, 100% privately funded?’

‘Yeah, couple of steps involved but…yeah.’

‘And you’re suggesting the government funds some or all of that?’

‘Takes a strong stand, yeah?’

‘What did you mean by ‘in the round’?’