The Unincorporated Man (71 page)

He swirled the newly poured drink in his glass and stared at the elliptical pattern the rich liquid made as he did so.

“I have more power than anyone in history,” he uttered, then paused to take another sip, “but I’m not more powerful
than
history.”

He put the glass down on the table, and once again looked directly at Justin.

“The momentum of centuries is difficult to break, and even with my power, Mr. Cord, I couldn’t stop the course of events. If I moved too quickly and too openly I would’ve been exposed and removed from power. All I’ve been able to do is slow it down.”

“It?”

“The crossing of the threshold into outright slavery. Without me and some carefully played political games and judicial appointments, individuals would be allowed to sell off eighty percent of themselves and not seventy-five. Do you know, in my lifetime, Mr. Cord, the minimum percent of themselves a person was required by law to keep was dropped from thirty-five, to thirty, to twenty-five. There are many people still alive who can even remember when it was
forty-five
.”

“But if it’s so obvious, Mr. Chairman, why don’t more people fight it? Why aren’t my followers in the billions rather than the millions?”

“Fight what, Mr. Cord? Prosperity? Jobs? Wealth? As we all became inextricably linked to one another through personal incorporation, our wealth became more abundant, and we needed less to be content. Even at 20 percent the poorest of us would be as wealthy as you were in your past life—more so, when you consider the health benefits and life expectancy of living in our era. If my calculations are correct, within two centuries the minimum by law that a person will have to keep of themselves will be down to 5 percent.
Five percent
, Mr. Cord. That’s about what a slave got for his labor before your Civil War. But at least the slave knew he was a slave. Ours won’t. Oh, we’ll take care of them, feed them, be good masters, but they’re going to be slaves, nonetheless.”

“Not every slave remained a slave,” answered Justin, choosing to leave his glass conspicuously full. “There were always those who rose up.”

“Yes,” answered The Chairman, “the incredibly talented, driven, and lucky ones managed to find freedom. Would you like to know the percentage of luck I needed to get as far as I got? If I’d been as unlucky as I was lucky early in my career I would never have made majority. The percentage of penny children born of penny parents who will make majority is less than 10 percent. The lower the minimum shares that must be kept, the smaller that number gets. The system is very efficient at making its choices. By the time the average penny is born, educated, and raised he’s at his minimum. Society conspires to have his parents, and then himself, give up all of his disposable shares, and it gets harder and harder each passing decade to get them back.”

“So then what do you propose to do?”

“Me? Why, nothing. Or, at least, nothing much.”

“Oh, I see,” said Justin. “What do you propose
I
do? That I’m not already doing, that is.”

“Everything, Mr. Cord. You’re the luckiest thing that ever happened to humanity, though it will be centuries before history realizes it. It almost made me believe in the divine. When I got the report of
what
you were and
when you came from
I sensed that you could be the answer to the problems that had beguiled me. And then when it turned out to be
you
, Justin Cord, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years, Mr. Cord.”

Justin shrugged, not venturing a guess.

“Hope,” said The Chairman.

“Hope,” answered Justin, “is a dangerous thing, Mr. Chairman.”

“And so very powerful,” countered The Chairman. “I’ve been protecting you ever since. You wouldn’t believe the number of attempts that have been made on your life.”

Justin remembered the incident on the Moon and at the Empire State Center. “Yes, yes, I would.”

“A confession, Mr. Cord… The first attempt was mine. Not to take your life, I assure you, but rather to scare you into taking your protection more seriously. I apologize for those two troglodytes. They acted beyond their orders.”

“And died.”

“If they had followed orders they would not have.”

“And the second attempt?”

“Unplanned, but my responsibility nonetheless. One of my subordinates got a little out of hand. He’s been dealt with, I assure you.”

“Comforting.”

“Would you like to know how many attempts I’ve actually managed to stymie?”

“I’ll pass,” answered Justin. “Just remind me before I leave to fire my security detail.”

The Chairman allowed himself a small laugh.

Justin’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand something.”

The Chairman indicated for him to continue.

“If you were so gung ho to keep me unincorporated, why did you have GCI try to incorporate me in court?”

“We had to do something. Hektor would have waited and built a stronger case. Kirk Olmstead, his former boss, wanted to move quickly. I knew Manny Black would destroy them.”

“And I suppose,” said Justin, resigned, “you set that up as well.”

“Yes, though neither of you knew it. I have files of extraordinary people that I keep in reserve for all sorts of contingencies. Manny was one of them.”

“Who else did you activate?” snapped Justin.

The Chairman waited a moment before answering, knowing full well that what he was about to reveal would be incendiary.

“Sean Doogle.”

Justin’s eyes boggled. “You unleashed that murderer on humanity?!”

“To be more precise,” he answered, too calm for Justin’s comfort, “I allowed Hektor to.”

“He murdered the president,” shouted Justin. “Hundreds of others—and spawned the architects of the Gray Bomb! Please tell me you’re not giving money to the Action Wing.”

“Not anymore. Its usefulness is at an end.”

Justin stared blankly at the man before him.

“You’re mad. Why in the world would you want a revolution that could possibly kill billions when an evolution would achieve the same ends with far less loss of life and a better chance of success?”

“Because, sir, evolution has failed. I’ve tried it, and even with all my power, could barely stem the tide. What we need now is a
revolution
. Doogle and the Action Wing were simply the clarion call.”

“Evolution failed
your way
, but not mine. It’s true that I’m the one man who still has the freedom to choose, and
I will
give humanity a fighting chance at a real destiny, but not at the guaranteed price of billions dead.”

“Billions, Mr. Cord?” asked The Chairman, clenching his jaw so tightly his words were almost indiscernible. “What about the
hundreds of billions
who’ll be here soon? If your evolution fails, what sort of universe will they be born into? One in which each of them is free to choose a destiny, or one in which they’ll be programmed from birth to accept a certain range of menial jobs for 5 percent of their labor? And what of the
trillions
who’ll follow that?

“I’d give anything to be you,” The Chairman continued, “the man to lead humanity out of slavery. But we don’t get to choose our history so much as history chooses us, do we? Well, Justin Cord,
history has chosen you
.”

“No, sir,” retorted Justin, “
you
have chosen me. And if I were to follow your course, countless more billions will die needlessly. In your rush to destroy the system you hate, you haven’t stopped to consider what would replace it. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s almost always something or someone worse. Mao, Pol Pot, Hitler, Stalin, and Ahmadinejad, to name but a few.”

“I’m a good judge of character, Mr. Cord, and you’re none of the above.”

“You’re right, I’m not. But there’s no guarantee, as you so aptly pointed out, that I’ll be around forever, and I’m not willing to trust the future of humanity on the whims of one person. Slow and steady wins the race, sir. Even if it means the race takes a few hundred years.”

“I’m well aware of history, Mr. Cord. It wouldn’t be just you. We can
both
manage it. With my power and connections and your leadership we can turn it all back—
together
.”

“No, we can’t,” answered Justin, “at least, not the way you’re envisioning it. And we’d be fools if we thought we could. Your revolution has succeeded in nothing but the killing of countless millions, and if not for me flying across the far reaches of the planet, quite possibly countless more. No, sir. If you want me on board you do it
my
way. It won’t free everybody, but anybody who wants to be free will have the opportunity.”

Neither said a word, each waiting for the other to give. After almost two minutes of silence, Justin realized The Chairman no longer knew how to compromise.

“We appear to be at a crossroads, sir,” said Justin, with a wry smile.

“Indeed.”

“I’m convinced,” said Justin, “that working separately we’ll fail.”

Justin waited for The Chairman to absorb what he’d just said.

“What do you suggest?” asked The Chairman.

“Let’s give evolution a decade or two, with myself as the leader. If in that time it’s not working, and is a complete and utter failure, we can always resort to your way.”

The Chairman thought it over briefly, looked up from his now empty glass, and smiled.

“I agree, then… for now.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Justin.

“Yes?”

“Neela.”

The Chairman sighed, and shifted uneasily in his seat.

“I can’t get her back.”

At first Justin didn’t react. Then the old man’s recalcitrance got the better of him.

“Why the hell not?”

“For both your sakes!” The Chairman shot back. “You cannot have Dr. Harper, nor do I believe you should. Your sociological effectiveness increases the more you suffer publicly. But it’s a moot point… do you really think she’d have you back? You continue to tear at a system she loves… almost as much as she loves you.”

“Mr. Chairman,” retorted Justin, regaining his composure now that he’d confirmed all was not lost, “if you want me to be your partner in this endeavor, if you want my help, you’ll get me Neela—whether she wants me or not. Otherwise, I do it my way—the whole way. That’s the deal I’m prepared to make. Take it or leave it.”

Justin then raised the glass he’d left untouched, almost willing The Chairman to raise his.

The Chairman looked at the man before him and saw the resolve. It was the rare occurrence that he, the CEO of GCI, ever needed someone more than he himself was needed, but such was the case. He’d gotten as far as he was going to get. Only the Unincorporated Man could take it further. He refilled his glass and raised it up. “Then you’ll get Dr. Harper—if she’ll have you.”

The quiet hum of the beanstalk was interrupted momentarily by the sound of glass on glass as they toasted to the deal, drank, and then sat back.

There was, realized Justin, one impediment still to be considered. “What about Hektor? He won’t take too kindly to my being seen with Dr. Harper—especially after having banished her to the outer system.”

“Don’t worry about Hektor, Mr. Cord… ,” assured The Chairman.

The icy stare was back.

“. . . he’ll be taken care of. I suggest you disappear for a few weeks.”

With that The Chairman got up from his chair. Justin rose as well. The deal was done, the meeting over.

“Good luck, Mr. Cord. We’ll be in touch.”

The Chairman realized that he was now passing on the torch, and with it the years of hardship and strain attendant to a life spent in furtive embrace. Though the job wasn’t finished, it was at least entering a new phase.
Indeed
, thought The Chairman,
hope is a very powerful thing
.

As Justin shook The Chairman’s hand, he noticed something he hadn’t yet seen in the eyes of the man he’d grown to both fear and loathe—he saw relief.

16 Resolution

T
he Chairman had suggested, and Justin concurred, that it was best for all involved for him to leave Earth’s orbit for a few weeks until things settled down. The old man had assured Justin that Mosh McKenzie’s yacht—and Neela with it—would be diverted to Ceres, a planetoid in the asteroid belt orbiting somewhere between Mars and Jupiter. The oversized floating boulder was, at the moment, approximately 1.6 Astronomical Units from Earth or, as sebastian had put it, “approximately 148,729,291.6278931 miles… give or take.” By normal means the trip would take months, but Justin had plans for a far speedier arrival, and the credits to back them up.

After leaving The Chairman’s suite he headed straight for the transshipment point farther down the beanstalk. It was crowded and filled with cargo pods of raw materials from the outer system—all being processed for shipment to Earth’s ravenous industries. Once he was there, it wasn’t difficult for Justin to have a ship pick him up and take him to the American Express orbital platform where he planned to arrange a trip out to the asteroid belt.

It was only as he was leaving on the luxury transport that Justin realized the significance of the day—not from what had been achieved, but from what had been forgotten. He kept telling himself that, given all that had happened, he couldn’t really be faulted, but that proved to be of little solace. Though he knew it to be improper, he turned to his only available outlet.

“Hello, sebastian?”

“I’m here, Justin.”

“I have a bit of a problem.”

“By the tone in your voice,” answered sebastian, “I’m assuming it’s of a personal nature. As you know, I’m excellent at helping with mundane problems—not those that require deeper insight.”

“All fine and well, sebastian,” answered Justin, “the problem is, anyone I’d want to talk to is out of reach.”
Very out of reach
.

“I’m afraid,” answered the DijAssist, “that I may not be of much use. Our programs tend to be very good at helping children. We can listen and offer generic advice on generic situations like ‘nobody listens to me’ or ‘my brother stole my doll.’ By the time a person starts to deal with complex emotional issues they’re usually well beyond talking to their avatars.”

“Tell ya what then, buddy,” answered Justin, “all you have to do is listen. Truth is, I have a tough time talking to most people nowadays.”

“That is most understandable, Justin. I will, of course, listen.”

The DijAssist went silent.

“My wife died today. I mean… today’s the anniversary of her death,” Justin corrected.

I was wondering if you’d remember
, thought Sebastian.

“I believe I understand, sir. You want me to arrange flowers, and maybe a commemoration in a news service, or a ceremony.”

“That’s not it, sebastian, and how come a Neuro-linked memory still can’t remember that I don’t want to be called ‘sir’?”

“I apologize, Justin. The situation seemed formal, and I switched to a formal usage protocol. Our programs are improved by interaction, but as you can see, not perfected.”

“Forgiven.”

“So, then…”

“I forgot. Jesus, sebastian, how could I forget?”

“Justin,” offered sebastian, “human memory is not perfect, and easily distracted by more pressing matters. You have had a busy year, and today seems to be the culmination of that year. I hope I am using the following phrase correctly, but you should not ‘beat yourself up’ over this. I never knew your wife, and evidence is very sketchy concerning her, but I will assume she loved you.”

“Yes, of course.”

“From what I understand about love, the biggest component is the well-being of the other person. Am I in error?”

“In this case, no.”

“Then you are observing this anniversary in a way your wife would most approve of. Have you not found love with another person? Would this not make your wife happy?”

“I have indeed found love with Neela, and yes, my wife would be very happy. Though she probably would have hit me upside the head for taking so long.”

“Are you spending this anniversary helping people?” continued the avatar. “And are you not on your way toward reuniting with the woman you love?”

“Yes, sebastian, that is exactly what I’m doing,” answered Justin, allowing himself a small grin. “And you’re a lot smarter than you let on.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Justin. Is there any other way I can be of assistance?”

Justin remained silent, racking his brain for the right gesture. It only took a moment.

“Could it be arranged for a dozen roses to be left on the shoreline of the island of Fiji? Anywhere will do, but they must be left in such a way that they’ll be caught by the incoming tide, and then be allowed to drift away.”

“Certainly, Justin.”

“Thank you, sebastian. Please arrange it… and sebastian…”

“Yes, Justin?”

“This helped.”

“I’m glad. The flowers would please your wife. Most human females are pleased with flowers. Interesting that most human males are not.”

Justin smirked but didn’t answer. He spent the remainder of the short ride up to the launch pod remembering and thinking about a trip to Fiji his wife was always begging him to go on but for which he never seemed to have the time.

Hektor was troubled. For a man seemingly connected to every facet of his universe, being kept in the dark about one of them practically killed him. He knew The Chairman would call him when he was good and ready. He had utter faith in the man’s ability to sway anyone—even as tough a nut as Justin Cord.

But why haven’t I heard from him?

Forty-eight hours after the initial meeting, forty-eight of the longest hours of Hektor Sambianco’s life, he finally got a message. Its very simplicity was almost, he noted with trenchant humor, diametrically opposite the amount of worry he’d put himself through. It read simply, “Meeting with Cord went well. In two weeks all will be in place. Do nothing without my OK.”

It wasn’t as if Hektor had nothing to do. The head of GCI Special Operations was always busy, and the recent economic strains had substantially added to his workload. And so, immersing himself in his day-to-day tasks, Hektor did almost nothing concerning Justin Cord. To be sure, he kept tabs on the man. He knew that Cord had rented the fastest ship he could find, and had blasted off for Ceres. It would be uncomfortable but, by Hektor’s estimation, he’d make it in about three weeks. He wondered what a Damsah-forsaken outpost like Ceres could have to offer that would make someone want to experience that type of extended acceleration—nanoassisted g-force gel couch or not. The trip could be done far more comfortably in three months. Hektor also knew about the dozen roses Justin had left on a beach in Fiji. At first he thought it had to do with the man’s wife. He’d noted that the day it was done had also been the day she’d died. But research showed that neither she nor Justin had ever been on Fiji. And so, Hektor had concluded that it had to be some signal to the Liberty Party, or perhaps even the Action Wing.

Per The Chairman’s orders, Hektor would do nothing
overt
. He did, however, fill the island with operatives, supposedly on vacation. Unfortunately, the only thing they managed to come back with was really good tans.

It was therefore with some relief that he was finally invited to have an audience with The Chairman. The relief was short-lived; Hektor’s nerves seemed to rise concomitantly with the lift as it moved swiftly up the beanstalk toward The Chairman’s sanctum sanctorum. He’d never felt this way with his own parents, because they’d never warranted it. But The Chairman was different. He was everything Hektor had ever wanted to be, and his approval was important in ways that mere job performance could never account for.

He was quickly ushered into the antechamber, through the massive double doors, and finally into The Chairman’s lair itself. The man, saw Hektor, was sitting amid his massive command center attending to affairs of state. The Chairman looked up suddenly, rose, and greeted Hektor warmly. It was only then that Hektor allowed himself to exhale.

“We got him,” said The Chairman, emerging from the array of machines. “Cord will incorporate, and in no small measure because of you.”

“That’s wonderful, sir,” answered Hektor, barely containing his joy. “How did you do it?”

“Not me, Hektor, you,” his boss said flatly. “You called it from the beginning.” He then motioned Hektor to have a seat as he grabbed a bottle of Champagne and two crystal flutes from behind a tiki bar.

“It was Neela Harper the whole time,” he said, popping the cork and then filling both their glasses. “That was the key. And that’s why the idiot’s blasting off to the asteroid belt at gut-twisting acceleration—which I’m sure you’re well aware of.”

That he was headed to Ceres, yes
, thought Hektor.
That he was meeting Neela, no
.

Hektor nodded.

“He’ll only finalize the deal,” continued The Chairman, “when he’s with Dr. Harper. In two days the paperwork for Justin Cord’s incorporation will go through. He’ll sign it on Ceres, and he and Dr. Harper will begin their engagement. Hektor, it is absolutely vital that the press work be in place to make this go smoothly.”

Hektor nodded once again—almost afraid that speaking would allow the perfection of the moment to fade.

The Chairman continued to bark his orders. “I don’t want any cries of perversion or manipulation to mar this. As far as the world is concerned, Dr. Harper is doing the human race a favor, and anyone who says otherwise is at best stupid or, more likely, an Action Wing terrorist.”

The Chairman’s pause broke Hektor’s euphoric spell.

“Don’t worry, sir. That won’t be a hard sell. People want the Crises to end. If it’s perceived that Dr. Harper helped put an end to it, then our only problem will be keeping her from being turned into a saint.”

“Good, good,” answered The Chairman. “I will leave all of that in your capable hands. Get me an outline of your propaganda campaign by tomorrow, so I can go over the main points. But I’m sure it’ll be fine. Truth is, it’s now a minor detail. With Justin Cord neutralized, the Crises will end, and GCI will be seen as the corporation that ended it.”

“Exactly, sir. We’ll be seen as the saviors.”

“Which means,” The Chairman said, speaking in a slow and purposeful manner, “we can begin the next phase.”

“Sir?”

The Chairman studied Hektor carefully, as if deciding how much to confide.

“I do not intend to simply end the Crises,” he continued. “The corporate world is weak and divided. Too many corporations competing is what allowed a maniac like the Unincorporated Man to emerge and cause so much trouble. What we really need is
one
corporation to dominate and lead humanity in a productive and efficient manner. That corporation will be GCI.”

If Hektor could have stood and clapped he would have, because the man sitting before him spoke to the very fiber of his being.

“I always suspected, sir, that you had more in mind than simply the running of GCI. I, too, believe that our system must culminate in the powerful ruling the pennies. And the one with the most power,” he said, with a slow nod to The Chairman, “to rule us all. It makes perfect sense.”

The Chairman’s grandfatherly smile hid the disdain he felt within. If there had been any doubts at all about his plans for Hektor, there were now none whatsoever.

“Not just one, Hektor,” answered The Chairman, purposely allowing for a longer pause. “For years I’ve been worried that if anything happened to me the plan would fall to pieces, and all the work of building up power would be in vain, fracturing into thousands of competing corporations. I turned myself into a recluse, terrified that, should I die too soon, no one could replace me. That’s why I rarely left my chamber, and why I’ve had to take so many precautions.”

Hektor nodded, unable to believe where the conversation was heading.

“I spent years looking for someone with my drive and my dream,” continued The Chairman, “but all I got were Kirk Olmsteads and his ilk.” The Chairman leaned across the small divide that separated Hektor and himself, and put his hand on his subordinate’s shoulder. “Until now, son. If something happens to me I can rest assured that you’ll guide GCI and humanity to its logical resting place.” The Chairman then lifted his Champagne flute to Hektor. “I can finally relax.” He then took a sip and motioned to Hektor.

Hektor, stunned into silence, barely managed to lift the flute to his lips. He readily sipped from the golden elixir, realizing too late that he’d forgotten to lift his glass in acceptance. The Chairman, he saw, thankfully ignored his faux pas.

“Sir,” answered Hektor, when he finally managed to regain his composure, “are you actually saying…”

The Chairman nodded. “We can’t make it formal at first. But as soon as Cord and Harper are married, I’ll take a vacation. You’ll be left in day-to-day command of GCI. That should send the proper message, and let the system know that you’re the heir apparent, without having to involve the press or the stockholders. After that I’ll go on one or two more vacations or fact-finding trips to the outer system, each time with you assuming day-to-day control. Eventually we’ll formalize the relationship, and no one of consequence will be able to interfere.”

“Of course, sir,” was all that Hektor could manage.

“But let me say, son,” continued The Chairman, smiling amiably, “congratulations, and thank you. It may not seem like it, but you’ll be doing me a far bigger favor than I’ll be doing for you.”

“No, sir. Thank you. Thank you, sir. I will not let you down.”

“That’s why you have the job, son. Oh, before I forget.” The Chairman leaped up and went to the bar. He picked up a wrapped box and handed it to Hektor. “I can’t stand the things myself, but I know you like them.”

Hektor’s eyes lit up as he removed the wrapping. It was a small wooden box with the words DAVIDOFF ANIVERSARIO inlaid on top. He opened the case and found three wooden cigar-shaped cylinders neatly lined up. They, too, bore the distinctive logo.