LoveStar (17 page)

LOVEGOD

Over the next months Yamaguchi and LoveStar drew up the guidelines for the newest and most hush-hush department of the LoveStar empire: LoveGod. They avoided saying the name of the department aloud and never committed it to paper. The only ones who knew about LoveGod were a handful of the most brilliant scientists at the Bird and Butterfly Division, their director Yamaguchi, and LoveStar himself.

Thousands of searchers were sent out equipped with highly sensitive monitors, but none of them knew exactly what they were looking for. So as not to awaken suspicion, their orders were not only to walk around churches, chapels, monasteries, and mosques, but also motorways, shopping malls, schools, factories, and playgrounds. The monitoring team had no screens: all they had to do was flick a switch and the results were sent to databases for processing. The Indonesian mathematicians who processed the data did not know how their calculations related to reality. The Indian computer operators who collated the mathematicians' results had no idea what data they were collating or what company they were working for. There was no need for Ivanov at LoveDeath to know anything, and Yamaguchi insisted that Ragnar, head of iSTAR, should be kept as far away from LoveGod as possible.

Ragnar Ö. Karlsson had taken up the gauntlet when it came to the rift between iSTAR and the bird specialists. The latest gambit by the iSTAR fashion department had infuriated Yamaguchi. It was the marketing of the “Bird and Butterfly Look,” which was really nothing more than an in-joke on the part of the iSTAR management. It was a “style-free line” of clothing and interiors, inspired by the “style-free and liberal” spirit of the Bird and Butterfly Division. A new “philosophy” of design and architecture was promoted around the style-free look. The “style-free” line was an immediate hit and was sold in a thousand carefully style-free stores around the world.

Ragnar had been director of iSTAR for four years. LoveStar had always worked closely with the heads of iSTAR and got to know them well, but most of them burned out in five to seven years. Lately he'd found it hardly worth getting to know the iSTAR management and so had little personal acquaintance with Ragnar or his predecessor. This did not affect their ambition and, if anything, distance only served to increase their respect for LoveStar. Ragnar had succeeded in thoroughly surpassing all his predecessors; no moodman before or since had shown such vigor in expanding the LoveStar empire.

Ragnar held quarterly meetings at which he went over the state of affairs with Yamaguchi and LoveStar. On this occasion he was grave. The meeting was about the company's growth potential, or rather diminishing growth potential. LoveStar and Yamaguchi entered the meeting room. Yamaguchi, who was wearing a lab coat and old tracksuit pants, growled when Ragnar grinned and praised her for her style-free look. Ragnar then became deadly serious and showed them projections of graphs, bar charts, and slides: “There's good news regarding hosts, traps, and spies. The systems are working well. They've returned substantial results, and should continue to do so for the near future. The media branch is flourishing, thanks to improved access to our production materials, and LoveDeath has reached full capacity, as you know. We take what death provides and there's not much for a moodman to do, particularly since the EU and AU (African Union) health committees banned the old method. However, I have to report very worrying results from iSTAR's latest research into calculees. inLOVE has more far-reaching side effects than we realized. Unfortunately, calculated couples have proved intractable subjects for iSTAR. There's almost nothing you can sell a calculated couple because they already have everything they need. They score lower than twin brothers with identical interests, lower than hippy or monastic target groups. Calculated couples gaze into one another's eyes, pick blueberries, and stroll on beaches. Calculees can hardly be bothered to put in their lenses. It's enough for them to see each other. Retail and service industries have collapsed in densely calculated areas, and, as if that wasn't enough, calculated retailers have thrown in the towel. The howler and trap markets have taken a dive in these areas, and information about calculated people has proved worthless. We researched the response to sexy car ads among newly calculated couples. There was no response. We researched the reaction to “Are you unhappy with your appearance?” stimuli, aimed at forty-year-old calculated women in the 200- to 250-pound weight category. There was no response. We researched their interests: their partner. We researched how they wanted their partner: as he is. If you could change anything about him, what would it be? Nothing! answered 97.9 percent. The world economy will collapse if things continue this way. Although a percentage of mankind remains uncalculated due to premature death and famine in parts of the world, inLOVE is nothing but opium! I have to ask: should we raise the calculation age? Is it justifiable to match people so exactly? Are we on the right track? You must see how the order of priority has been muddled! Could it be that happiness is in fact the road to ruin? What do you want to do about this?”

LoveStar was silent for a while before saying clearly and decisively:

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” repeated Ragnar.

“That's right.”

“What do you mean? We must do something!”

“No. We're going to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“We're going to wait for the results of the search.”

“What search?” Ragnar pricked up his ears.

“Don't tell him!” cried Yamaguchi, shooting LoveStar a forceful look. “Don't tell him why!”

Ragnar gave LoveStar a sharp glance, and the latter thought for a moment before saying:

“LoveGod.”

“LoveGod?”

Yamaguchi clenched her fists under the table and LoveStar turned to her.

“Yamaguchi, fill Ragnar in about LoveGod. He'll have to deal with it anyway, sooner or later.”

“I don't understand what you mean,” said Ragnar, looking bewildered.

“We're on the brink of something magnificent; we don't know what it is, but until it happens we're not going to make any radical decisions.”

LoveStar left the meeting room and, against her will, Yamaguchi explained the LoveGod project to Ragnar.

LoveGod assailed Ragnar's waking and sleeping life. He could no longer keep up with the daily mood, fashion trends, design, branding, slogans, and catchphrases because everything paled in comparison to the possibilities inherent in LoveGod.

There came a point when Ragnar could take no more. He pepped himself up. Had himself praised to the skies, polished his shoes, brushed his teeth, and dressed according to the latest fashion: style-free shoes, style-free jeans, style-free matching T-shirt from the same manufacturer. His hair was carefully casual. He booked an appointment with LoveStar and walked into the office looking like self-confidence personified.

“I've got certain ideas in relation to LoveGod,” he began.

“It's too early to draw up mood strategies, Ragnar. I thought I'd made that clear,” said LoveStar firmly. “We'll let you know when it's ready . . .”

“I've been thinking about this business of the prayers. The way they all go to the same place. What are you going to do with the place, if it's found?”

“We haven't discussed it,” said LoveStar. “We can't decide anything until we know where the place is and what it's like.”

LoveStar had done little else recently than picture for himself where the prayers of the world might end up. He had imagined a being, a pyramid, a tower, rock, shrine, mountain, palace, forest, spring, pool . . . He had imagined all these things and the place assailed his dreaming and waking life. In all his dreams he was standing in a desert where he cast no shadow.

“But you are assuming that they all go to one place?” said Ragnar.

“Everything points that way.”

“So the prayers must be stored there, mustn't they?”

“Presumably.”

“And if we can find the place, we'll be able to read the prayers?”

“It's not improbable but I must ask you . . .”

Ragnar interrupted him:

“Imagine what a goldmine that would be for iSTAR. We could get right to the heart of every human being. We could get direct access to their longings, wishes, and innermost desires!”

“We'll have to proceed very cautiously, to say the least,” said LoveStar firmly.

“. . . and if we can send prayers to such a place, then we've found a natural inbuilt communications system? Haven't we?”

It was obvious LoveStar was becoming impatient.

Ragnar spoke faster. LoveStar had never seen him like this.

“Can you imagine what an invaluable system we would have our hands on? Cordless, gadgetless, inbuilt direct access. Imagine you were hungry. You close your eyes and pray: Dear God, I want a pizza with ham and pineapple. We receive the message and have an exclusive contract with Dominoes, for example, and if you say Amen, it means the order's confirmed. The pizza will be sent out instantaneously! It couldn't be simpler! Technologically speaking, iSTAR can only harness primitive biological reflexes. We can make people howl and writhe and cry, but they're just reflexes, unconnected to the soul. When traps cry they're not really crying. If we unlock the technology perhaps we can send the advertisements deeper. Have you thought of that? Imagine if we could send a message back the same way, if we could send people some kind of revelation, inspiration, or sensation! If we could speak to the heart like a thunderous voice from heaven! If we could speak directly to the conscience. Imagine what a company would pay for guilt! If you felt guilty for walking past some product!”

Horrified, LoveStar stared at Ragnar and saw that he was on fire. LoveStar had lain awake for a whole week, trying to ward off similar ideas. He had suppressed them in the hope that they would suffocate and vanish to the four winds, but ideas do not die. He of all people should have known that. They had all popped up in Ragnar's head and he was beside himself. It was as if he was drunk. As a rule he was lively and cheerful; now he was something else. He was speeding on ideas.

“Are you listening to me?” babbled Ragnar. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” said LoveStar, looking at him, frozen.

“You see,” said Ragnar. “Of course, it won't just be business. We'll help people, too. Let's say you come face to face with some thugs who are going to attack you. You send up a prayer.” Ragnar became involved in his story, mimed being threatened, fell to his knees, and pretended to pray: “DEAR LOVEGOD, HELP! THERE ARE FOUR BIG UGLY BRUTES ABOUT TO BEAT ME UP!!!”

“Dear LoveGod?”

“Yes, it doesn't matter who it's addressed to. The prayers all go to the same place, don't they? Whether you say dear God or Buddha or dear Bob! We could just as well say: Dear LoveGod. Save me! And what happens? The message goes directly to the Angels! THE ANGELS COME TO THE RESCUE!!!”

“The Angels?”

“Yes, we'll set up special squads called the Angels. Subscribers to the LoveGod service can call on the Angels. The rest will have to call the police or pray to God to help them.”

“Shouldn't we help them?”

“Those who are not subscribers will have to trust that God will help them or the police, if they manage to dial 999. Otherwise we couldn't finance the Angels.”

“Subscribers?”

“Those who get to pray, they're subscribers.”

“But everyone can pray.”

“Nothing's free. Who do you think paid for those medieval churches? St. Peter's is still standing, raised on the profits of absolutions! God could have destroyed it but he didn't. A giant colossus raised in times of poverty and famine. We'd be doing what the Church did. We'd be creating mood around him and encouraging people to pray.”

LoveStar regarded Ragnar with horror. It was hard to take in everything he said. He had never seen a moodman sink so low. Ragnar was seriously ill. Everything he mentioned was a direct consequence of LoveGod. But it was inevitable that this would happen when they found the prayers' destination. Nothing can stop an idea; nothing can prevent a possibility from being exploited to the full.

“But . . . God,” whispered LoveStar. “What about him?”

“He'll benefit most. We can pep him up. He'll get a crazy surge through his system. We're talking about a billion hits a day. It'll be like in the old days when the Church took him under their wing. It worked for him for two thousand years. But then science came and took charge and the Church couldn't make him popular any more. But LoveGod will combine science with God. Except that rather than only appealing to a small target group that believes in things—whether it's God, Elvis, ghosts, or aliens—we'll also reach all the rest whom science drove out of the Church. We'll find the place, bring him here, and make him famous. We can do it! And everyone'll benefit! He'll benefit and we'll benefit and the subscribers will benefit and everyone'll be happy!”

LoveStar had foreseen this. It was clear that the moment the prayers' destination was found, it would be possible to find a way of moving it here. Then everything would be in one place: LoveDeath, the center of death; inLOVE, the center of love; and LoveGod, the center of everything.

Ragnar counted on his fingers.

“Then we'll have Love, Death, and God in one place! Have you ever heard of anything like it? We'll have a billion visitors a year. Mankind united on earth, calculated through inLOVE, fired up with LoveDeath, and finally all with a direct line to LoveGod. We're talking LoveWorld. The world. The earth. LoveWorld. It'll be awesome. WON'T IT?”

Ragnar waited for a reaction, but LoveStar was speechless. As a rule it was LoveStar's role to talk like this. As a rule he was the one enslaved to the idea, but now LoveStar just looked at Ragnar and thanked him politely.