Freedom Club (17 page)

The Chairman nodded toward Lopes. “I must agree. Our research is highly restricted and our authorization process for access is by necessity cumbersome. We can’t just throw it wide open on short notice to an unspecific number of auditors.”

Joachim glanced at Drexel with concern. “Might I then suggest that you limit access to me alone? I am no recognized authority in this field. But I have gathered enough knowledge in the last few weeks to ensure a sound comprehension of your assets. Feasibly, I can ensure that our future projections meet the requirements of due diligence.”

The Chairman looked at Director Lopes, who shrugged with indifference. There was no way around such a request. Both men shared mutual faith in the summations of any Sentient. Who wouldn’t? To think otherwise was absurd. Sentients were unlike humans. They could be trusted with anything, for they possessed integrity beyond reproach.

Chairman Cao nodded. “I believe your suggestion can be accepted. All our R&D Sentients will also be available to handle any questions you should have.” Joachim folded his hands with pleasure. “You are most kind.” The chairman signaled the rest of the board for attention. “Gentlemen, based on the information presented here today, I am recommending we accept the Aleph-Beta proposal. Please vote now your response to be entered in the minutes.”

The votes were summed up on the boardroom’s official counter. And, as expected, the acquisition was passed unanimously in favor. Euphoric cheers rose in unison as board members faced each other and shook with glee, the argy-bargy of the past hour almost gone, like the faint din of a bent tuning fork.

Smiling graciously, Joachim stood off to the side and considered the future. It was an important key milestone, to be certain, but there was no allowance for slackening the pace. Secretly his Sentient mind calculated the next steps, honing various parameters into finer scales of precision and detail. After so long, Joachim realized, the microbivore technology would be in his hands. Everything was coming into perfect alignment, and it was only a matter of time before the final stages of his plan would come to fruition.

Just a matter of time.

S
canning fragments of Sumeet’s personal life was beginning to pay off, and Shinzou found himself fascinated. Using captured data over the past ten hours, in-flight communication between Sumeet and Hiral provided a peek into the complexities that faced many young couples during the courting phase of their lives. Why was it so interesting? A voyeur’s pleasure, perhaps, but one that provided a complex picture of a man he hardly knew.

“You’re taking quite an interest in that boy,” Henry said from his workstation. “What do you see in him?”

Shinzou frowned. “He’s quite unaware of what’s going on.”

“Isn’t that what Hugo summed up without even looking at a single message?” Henry gibed.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Shinzou said, sighing. “It’s about Sumeet himself and the way he interprets important events in his life. He’s so wrapped up in his job and with getting a penthouse love nest for him and Hiral. He’s completely blind to the world at large.”

Henry considered this and came to where Shinzou sat. “Well, I suppose. But he’s no different from millions of others his age.”

“I wasn’t thinking about millions. Just one,” Shinzou said flatly.

Henry looked back inquisitively.

“Me, I guess,” Shinzou said lightheartedly. “He reminds me of myself.”

Henry looked on thoughtfully. “You know, this poor lad really has nothing to do with our work. It’s just as Hugo said. He’s nothing more than a distraction cooked up by that fellow at Sri-Ooti. Were he to become involved, it would truly alter his future without cause.”

Shinzou glanced up at Henry with mild agitation. Clearly, there was more to it than that, but Shinzou struggled to express his thoughts effectively. Maybe they were hidden within his subconscious. Stroking his sideburns, he sighed deeply and adjusted the rack of monitors that surrounded him.

“No, I don’t want to ruin his life. But at the same time, I would like to give him some options. Options I never had.”

“Options?” Henry said sarcastically. “And how exactly do you propose to do that? We’ve no reason to make contact with him. What would you say anyhow? Hello, you don’t know me but I’m a LS terrorist that would like to offer you some good advice? Let’s start with your dependency on material wealth!”

Shinzou chuckled. “You’re right, Henry, but...I just can’t get the idea out of my head. I don’t know. What if we were to attempt to recruit him into the Freedom Club?”

“What, are you serious?”

“Yes, quite serious.”

“That’s ludicrous!”

“We’ve never tried anything like that before,” Shinzou went on. “And I’m not saying it would work, mind you, but he seems so ready to join. Don’t you think? Very much like I was at his age. Full of delusions, thinking the world is just perfect and getting better all the time.”

Henry looked on with disbelief, but then began to suspect the issue at hand. He moved along the wall to get closer and spoke up when Shinzou seemed lost for words.

“He really is quite like you, isn’t he? He even went to Bishop Cotton and follows lofty career goals. I can understand why you may be drawn to a boy like this. But keep in mind, he needs to make his own choices. And besides, Freedom Club members normally join on their own, without even realizing it.”

Shinzou yawned while stretching out his weary arms. “Quite right, Henry. Maybe it’s just me thinking out loud you know. Let’s forget about him, and get some rest. We can continue our work in the morning.”

Henry said nothing as Shinzou sauntered into the bedroom and closed the door. Alone, Henry continued to brood over the discussion and wondered if Sumeet was relevant in some way. Glancing over at the data Shinzou left open, he began to scan the files. Left to himself, Henry could pass through them at high speed. If anything of interest was there, he would know about it in the next hour or so. Wasted time perhaps, but Shinzou’s intuition had been right many times before. Henry always made a point to never ignore it completely.

“Well well,” Henry said softly. “Let’s see what kind of candidate you’d make, shall we?”

London England: 1851

A
remarkable encounter took place during the fourteenth year of Queen Victoria’s reign. It was a dreary autumn day, and freezing rain poured down upon the King’s Library. Dark naked trees swayed to and fro along the lifeless streets nearby. With high gusts, light hail tapped sporadically against the library’s blurred windows. But Karl didn’t notice any of it. He was in a dreamlike state. Huddled in a wool overcoat, he sat quietly, reading. Oblivious to the elements, as well as the chance meeting that would soon transpire.

The King’s Library reading room was not the warmest place, but there were benefits to be had. For instance, it was a congenial location to drown in one’s passion for knowledge. The library was indeed the greatest in Europe, with few others claiming to be on par. It also offered a dignified location to contemplate and dream. With classical architecture and oak wood floors, the library provided order and space for its eclectic denizens.

Throughout the day Karl had wallowed amongst various texts. And he barely noticed as a tall man quietly browsed the reading corner that he had adopted as his own. Balding, with a large furrowed brow, the stranger was imposing. He also wore a loose puffy necktie and double-breasted waist coat, not entirely in tune with fashion. Normally, Karl would have ignored other researchers. But the stranger kept repeating a name that caught his attention, and he felt compelled to listen.

“Spencer,” the stranger whispered.

Noticing him methodically brushing an index finger over the cloth-bound tomes of the political economy section, Karl presumed the man might be looking for one of the many books piled on his reading table. He looked on with growing curiosity as the tall fellow went back and forth over the stack, eventually setting his arms akimbo and huffing in frustration.

“Please excuse my interruption,” Karl offered. “But perhaps you are looking for this?”

Startled, the man approached cautiously as Karl pulled one book from his table.

“Social Statistics by Herbert Spencer,” Karl said. “Were you looking for it? An interesting read, and quite recently published I believe.”

The stranger took the volume from Karl’s outstretched hand and nodded. “Why, yes, I was trying to find this,” he said in a soft voice. A deep furrow then appeared on the man’s brutish face before handing it back. “But you are obviously still reading it and I wouldn’t wish to trouble you.”

“Nonsense!” Karl scoffed. “I’ve already read it thoroughly, and kept it on hand only for reference. If you desire to read it, please do so with my compliments.”

The stranger took the volume and looked over its spine again before smiling back with dark piercing eyes. “You are quite kind, Mr. – oh, pardon me, I didn’t get your name.”

“How rude of me not to introduce myself,” Karl said, standing up to greet the man with outstretched hand. “I am Dr. Karl Marx, a humble political economist who is delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Charles Darwin,” the man responded. “A humble naturalist. If I may ask, your accent sounds unfamiliar to me. Are you Swiss?”

Karl smiled broadly before addressing Charles eye to eye. “Prussian.”

“Oh, I see,” Charles apologized. “How long will you be staying in England?”

“I emigrated here recently,” Karl explained. “And I find myself a long-term guest of this country. Though I’ve nothing to complain about, having this wonderful library to entertain myself in for the rest of time. A naturalist, you say? That explains why I haven’t seen you before?”

Charles grinned and looked about the great stacks that lined the high gallery walls. “Yes, I normally don’t venture to this spot, as the museum has other areas more relevant to my research. But Spencer is an acquaintance, and I was urged to peruse the results of his hard work.”

“Ah, but you should come here more often,” Karl spurted jovially. “I have been a student of man’s struggles for many decades, and I assure you the natural world has much in common with social science. Tell me though, Charles, what exactly do you study? Naturalists come in many forms, I presume.”

Charles appeared a bit nervous at the question. He looked around the hall and made some attempt to confirm he was not within the hearing range of others. Karl found this somewhat peculiar and looked on with even greater interest. After a few cautious glances, Charles spoke in a softer tone to ensure his voice would not carry.

“I study a particular branch of science which attempts to explain the origin of species,” Charles said. “And I am working on a theory which can explain dimorphism, by showing it’s caused by a natural struggle for survival, plus other phenomenon I’ve been able to identify during my field studies.”

Karl’s eyes went wide as he ardently grabbed Charles’ shoulder. “You see? What did I tell you? Such an idea sounds quite fascinating. My own work in political economy takes the standpoint that society’s economic formation is a process of historic class struggle. You see the similarity? Perhaps our fields of study are not as disjointed as one is led to think. If you would do me the honor, I would be happy to hear more about your theory, Mr. Darwin. Even if it has no eventual impact upon my work, I can assure you it would give me pause to consider other possibilities.”

Charles was fascinated by Karl. Not necessarily with his words, but instead by his sheer vivaciousness and friendly candor. Though somewhat unexpected in the political section, the flaming personality standing before him provided warm relief on an otherwise cold and dreary day.

After only the briefest of pauses, the two agreed to continue their discussions in a lonely corner of the nearby tea room. As they walked, and throughout the entire first pot of Earl Grey, Karl expounded upon his ideas relating to political economy and the inevitable evolutionary processes that have affected man’s society since antiquity. He also gave a flaming review of bourgeoisie practices, and why their attempts to enslave the common laborer would lead to the rise of a proletariat.

The whole time, Charles sipped from his porcelain tea cup and listened with great interest. Never quite agreeing outright, Charles nodded politely and showed no fear of Karl’s exuberance. He even helped push the conversation on with questions here and there, occasionally offering scientific information that would better frame Karl’s ideas.

But it was not until Karl’s accounting of historical class struggles that Charles became more interested. He was fascinated by Karl’s concept of labor as a natural process, formed within man’s earliest social groups, and leading to the formation of modern society.

“If I may, allow me to question you a bit on your concept of labor,” Charles asked with measured caution.

“Please,” Karl said, while taking a sip of tea.

“You said something to the effect that man’s labors are, in their earliest forms, a natural act, to be considered part of nature itself.”

“Yes.”

“Thus leading to more modern forms, which distinguish themselves from the natural world because man imagines his activities before actually carrying them out.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Karl said nodding.