Videodrome: Days of O'Blivion (4 page)

“It is difficult to
understand Consec,” Brian said. “There’s no stock listing, no
public accounts. You’re a mystery.”

“Very true,” Leader
said. “We’re the invisible hand. We live in a strange world of
battling ideologies. It’s a tragedy that people die over different
ideas, but there are complicated forces in the world; I’m talking
about the Soviets of course. In Russia, there are good people
trapped behind communism, but there are also ideologues who would
seek to do us terrible harm. In North America we spend billions of
government dollars on the military industrial complex. We spend
government dollars on the business of war, but what about the
business of peace? Or the business of success? Consec stands for
Continental Security. Our role is to spend government dollars on
the non-military projects. The end goal is the same. We would like
to see the world unified by non-conflicting ideologies. People
shouldn’t have to die just because one nation has a different
opinion to the next; and wherever possible, Consec invests in
private business that can achieve that end.”

“Yes!” Barry said
firmly. He spoke with enough vigour that in a single word he
virtually pledged his allegiance to the cause.

Consec Leader stood up.
Brian and Barry matched him. “I’ve reviewed the payment schedule,
Barry. I think our first offer was far too low and would like to
offer you one hundred and twenty five million dollars to develop
Veraceo, in partnership with Consec, over the next two years. Is
that a suitable amount?” He held out his hand waiting for Barry to
shake.

Barry looked to Brian
and gave him a wink. He left Consec leader with his hand
outstretched in silence for a few more seconds just to appreciate
the man’s sales technique. The silent close. First person to speak
loses. On this occasion, Barry was happy to close. “I think we can
accept that.”

Leader smiled and took
Barry’s hand. “Barry Convex, I welcome you in partnership to
Consec. May we change the world together.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He offered his hand to
Brian who took it sheepishly, following Barry’s lead. “Brian
Spectrometer, I welcome you in partnership to Consec. May we change
the world together.”

Brian didn’t respond.
He didn’t know how to. Somehow he knew that this handshake was
binding. It was final. It was absolute. There was no contract to
sign, no paperwork or notary to authenticate. They’d just taken
their joining drink from the Consec punch bowl.

----- X -----

Brian sat with Paul
Ruth at a table for eight. On the opposite side Barry sat with
Bartok, shaking hands with those he was introduced to, networking
like a pro. Dinner was served. Roast duck breast with poached pear.
The food was divine and the service professional. Brian counted
tables. He estimated that there had to be at least three hundred
people in the room. “Is this all of Consec?” he asked Ruth.

“Oh Goodness, no. This
is just one chapter. American North East. There are four chapters
in the USA and two in Canada. They have these little chapter
soirées twice a year and our local one is in Montreal.”

With the desserts
served, the tables were cleared and coffees served as Consec Leader
took to the podium.

“Good evening, Consec
Partners… You know me… And I know all of you.” The room burst into
rapturous applause. “I always enjoy these dinners. I always enjoy
meeting the people who are changing the world and there have been
some extraordinary changes even since we last met some six months
ago. In particular, the geopolitics of our fight against
totalitarian hegemony has entered a new phase with the Soviet
invasion of Afghanistan.” The enjoyment from the applause
dissipated quickly. The atmosphere of the room went serious. “We
have watched for some time as the Soviets meddled in the affairs of
Afghanistan. Their motivation was to keep that part of the world
behind the curtain. We’ve watched for years as their involvement
deepened. Then we awoke on Christmas morning to hear that Brezhnev
had ordered his 40th Army into Kabul. In one stroke, the Soviet
Premier signalled to the world that he was prepared to abandon
detente and return to expansionism.”

Brian noticed many nods
around the room. In particular he noticed, the ribboned ex-generals
making eye-contact amongst themselves.

“I’ve got to tell you,”
Leader said. “That this looks like dangerous times. Only in July
did President Carter sign PD-59 in direct response to this
aggression. A change in strategic thinking. An escalation of our
nuclear capability giving us a look-shoot-look capability. We’re
suddenly in a world where we won’t be making less nuclear arms,
we’re going to be making more… Dangerous times for the world,
people… Dangerous times… This is a moment where we are on the
precipice of global war. A time when the balance of power can swing
from an unforced error on a battlefield.”

Again, heads nodded
around the room.

“So let me tell you,”
Leader continued. “When I woke up last Christmas morning… I don’t
think Santa Claus could have brought us a greater gift than what
Brezhnev delivered.”

The room burst into
laughter and sudden applause leaving Brian and Barry dumbfounded.
They looked to one another both believing they had missed or
misunderstood the joke.

“Now, we all know there
has been a persistent fear of the Soviets waging a land war across
the fields of Europe. But since we began seeing Russian military
advisors in Afghanistan we’ve always hoped that the Red Army would
roll on in. In Afghanistan the Soviets face endless conflict. We
know if they can be tied up in that worthless theatre, they would
lose their capacity to fight anywhere else; and that is exactly
what you as Consec partners are going to make happen.”

Again, the room burst
into applause.

Consec Leader made a
little giggle, speaking almost as though it was an aside, a
deliberate stage whisper caught by the microphone. “We’re going to
make so much money.” To this the room echoed with laughter and the
applause began again.

“There are three
sources of revenue for Consec Partners. Firstly, the ruling family
of Saudi Arabia have emptied their prisons, offering convicts a one
way ticket to engage in holy war. The Saudi’s see this as a way to
deflect criticism of their own leadership… However,” Leader paused
for effect and smiled, “The Saudi’s don’t know a damn about running
a war.” The room laughed again. "King Khalid has approached America
asking for help managing this war and America has agreed to match
the Saudi investment; but, and here is where you as Consec Partners
take your share, America cannot be seen engaging in a proxy war
with the Soviets. No American troops can enter Afghanistan, so I
have arranged, with the help of some Partners here tonight, a
revenue chain to the Pakistani ISI intelligence services and to
Chinese weapons manufacturers. The Pakistani’s will run the
operations on the ground in Afghanistan. The Chinese will supply
the weapons. The religious mullahs will fight on the battlefield,
the Americans and Saudis will pay for it… and you, the Consec
Partners, can take any contract that suits your business.”

The room erupted into
applause.

“Better yet, the United
Nations have already earmarked billions of dollars to relief
operations and again, Consec Partners will have first choice on
every single UN contract.” The Leader made a gentle chuckle. “We’re
going to make more money on this than we did in Vietnam.” The room
joined in with the laughter. “In fact, this war could run and run.
We anticipate this conflict will not only cripple the Soviets, it
has the potential to usher in a new decade of warfare; and Consec
and Consec Partners will be there to reap the rewards.”

The room stood and
clapped. A deafening round of applause for Consec Leader and his
geopolitical vision.

“This could be the big
one,” he continued. “We have nuclear advantage, conventional
advantage, capital advantage and enterprise advantage. By the end
of this decade we could bring the Soviets to their knees. We are
aligned for perhaps the greatest moment of our existence. We will
destroy their will. We shall destroy their spirit. We shall destroy
their way of life. We shall destroy their ideologies and above all,
we, as Consec Partners, will change the world together.”

As the thundering
applause reached a blood-thirsty crescendo of sycophantic
admiration, all Brian could do was mumble his thoughts to himself.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “What the hell are we involved
in?”

----- Chapter Two -----

The new laboratory was
on the Toronto outskirts. Grey and forgettable buildings away from
the public eye. Brian’s new home for technology was between a
manufacturer of industrial brushes and a mechanic who specialised
in refurbishing forklift trucks. The only outward sign of their new
home was a small brass plate by the entrance that read ‘Special
Optical Laboratories’.

Inside the building
Brian found a man with dark curly hair and thick glasses, sitting
on a packing crate and reading a book called A Boy and his Dog.
“Are you Brian Spectrometer?” he asked.

“I am.”

The man held out his
hand to shake. “I’m Peter Fluorite, I’ve been with Consec for
almost ten years but I started out in Montreal working for CBFT
before moving to CBC. I’m your go-to man for television needs. I’ve
been briefed on Veraceo and was told you’re building a testing
facility.”

Brian walked around the
space, his footsteps echoing. The main floor of the building was at
least sixty feet square and twelve feet tall, then at the side of
the main floor were various rooms ready to be converted into office
space or workshops. “They’ve certainly given me enough space,”
Brian mused.

“I was told you’re new
to Consec,” Fluorite added. “That this is your first job as a
partner.”

Brian nodded. “It
is.”

Fluorite smiled at him.
“Just tell me what you need, then watch how fast Consec makes it
happen.”

“I need… what I need…”
Brian held his chin as he paced the floor. “I need all the
equipment from my old laboratory duplicating here, but upgraded to
the best available. We’re going to create a room for test subjects
to watch video and we’re going to process thousands of people. We
need test bays arranged as booths where they can sit in front of a
TV with headphones on. Let’s say fifty people at a time.”

“Fifty chairs, fifty
cubicles… What sort of televisions?” Fluorite asked. "Colour or
black and white, large or small, domestic use or under-scan
monitors?”

“Let’s start with what
people have in their homes. Domestic colour, average size, let’s
say nineteen or twenty inch. They need building into an arrangement
so that I can play a tape and all fifty get the signal, that’s a
good place to start; and I’m going to need a thousand test subjects
of all ages and social classes.”

Fluorite was writing in
a notepad. “No problemo, Pátron. Leave it with me.”

----- X -----

Within a week the first
test subjects were in place. The Veraceo signal generator was
patched into the network of televisions and Peter Fluorite began
building a catalogue of test material from old commercials to
political ads and news reports. Until they knew how better to
assess the impact they simply asked the same question of whether
what they were watching was true or false. With Veraceo everything
was true. Soap powder really did make your whites brighter than
ever, kids never got hungry between meals with fish fingers and
some razor blades truly did give the greatest shave.

“I’ve got something
really special to try,” Fluorite said. “I’ve got a cassette of the
most racist fucker you’ll ever see. Let’s see if people agree with
this.”

Fifty test subjects
came into the room to watch Peter Fluorite’s racist video.

Half of the test
subjects watched it with Veraceo.

The film started. A
political advert for a potential US Senator with slicked back hair
and a bowtie. “I am J.B. Stoner,” the man began. “I am the only
candidate for U.S. Senator who is for the white people. I am the
only candidate who is against integration. All of the other
candidates are race mixers to one degree or another.” On the test
floor, the subjects sat in rows wearing headphones, glued to the
screen, but it was easy to see that some had already screwed up
their faces at the campaign ad. “I say we must repeal Gambrell's
civil rights law,” Stoner continued. “Gambrell's law takes jobs
from us whites and gives those jobs to the niggers. The main reason
why niggers want integration is because the niggers want our white
women. I am for law and order with the knowledge that you cannot
have law and order and niggers too. Vote white. This time vote your
convictions by voting white racist J.B. Stoner into the run-off
election for U.S. Senator. Thank you.”

The test subjects were
asked to score the thirty second video as to how likeable they
found the candidate. One was least likeable, ten was most likeable.
Those without Veraceo scored JB Stoner with ones and twos. Those
with Veraceo scored him six and a few sevens.

“We should run that
test again with black people,” Fluorite quipped.

They did.

Those with Veraceo
scored Stoner just as favourably. The other half threatened to kill
the motherfucker who thought it was a good idea to ask twenty five
black people how likeable they found J.B. Stoner.

----- X -----

“I’ve found something
worth testing,” Fluorite said waving a U-matic cassette. “Robert
McNamara. He’s an easy man to hate, but he’s also a thoughtful,
logical guy. I’ve got a rarely seen interview of him being boring
as hell.”

“Veraceo puts people
into an agreeable mood,” Brian said. “Even Hitler scored six out of
ten.”