The Last Protector (43 page)

"Perhaps,” McGinn retorted, “but we also have our new world, on schedule and within budget.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “And as it turns out, we have a unique opportunity."

Jackson frowned. “The last opportunity you presented is the cause of this meeting."

If the comment disturbed McGinn, he did not show it. “The pyrovirus did not kill everyone. Approximately fifteen thousand children between the ages of eight and thirteen survived unharmed."

"I noticed that,” Niedemeyer said, “and I am concerned that we are legally responsible for them—especially their mental health. Yesterday's events must have been traumatic."

"And that provides our opportunity.” McGinn gestured as he spoke, as if words alone could not convey his enthusiasm. “I spent much of the night in consultation with the Anthrapps department."

"Anthrapps?” Jackson asked.

"Anthropological applications,” McGinn said, and his smile made it clear that he had enjoyed one-upping the boss. “The children need memory-replacement therapy to suppress the trauma, and help in re-establishing a self-sufficient society. UniFlag must assume the role of their parents. This is an opportunity—we can train them as the Cast members of the Grand Taupeaquaah themeworld, and train them far beyond what anyone in the business has done before.” He paused for effect. “Rather than performing their roles as Cast, they will be living them. Let me offer a simple example: everybody knows that the Cast members are just acting when they get into fights, when they duel—but what if they did it for real?"

Jackson's eyes went wide in disbelief. “You want them to kill each other in the streets?"

"Not at all—that would be bad for business. But suppose we established a culture in which differences were settled by dueling, and the duels stopped well short of serious injury—say, at the first drop of blood drawn? The Anthrapps department can do this, and it will give Taupeaquaahn society an authenticity found in no other themeworld. They'll duel—harmlessly—in the streets, because it's how they settle their differences. They'll serve the Guests because it's their purpose in life. And they'll respect the corporate symbols out of true reverence.” McGinn pointed to a framed Spafu cartoon on the wall. “They'll need a religion—a deity to worship, purpose and meaning for their lives. I propose that we give them a faith that fits our needs—one rooted in our corporate values, filled with exotic and entertaining rituals, free of inconvenient dogma like ‘money is the root of all evil.’”

Jackson gasped. “You want them to worship Spafu? He's a mascot, a cartoon!"

"And to the Cast of Grand Taupeaquaah, he will be a god."

"Employees worshiping the corporate symbols?” Jackson folded his hands in a manner that looked almost prayerful. “In a way, it's every executive's dream.” He unfolded his hands. “Franz, is this legal?"

Niedemeyer thought silently for what seemed like an eternity before nodding. “Yes, it's legal. The surviving aboriginals are not of legal age, so we can establish the corporation as their legal guardian. That will make memory-replacement therapy legal. We will provide for their physical and emotional needs, give them a proper education, all according to the law. By the time they are old enough to refuse to work for us, they'll know no other way. In that respect, it's rather elegant. However, I see a potential issue around workforce diversity, given that the population is entirely Native North American. Do you have a plan for dealing with that?"

"Diversity,” McGinn said slowly, and for an instant his expression of supreme self-confidence wavered. Then his expression suddenly brightened. “Yes, I have a plan. The absolute present of the Grand Taupeaquaah stream is currently in the eighth century. All around the world there are wars, natural disasters and other tragedies, no doubt leaving many young people orphaned. We shall simply rescue some of these unfortunates and bring them to Taupeaquaah to join the Cast."

"That will work,” the lawyer said, after a minute's consideration. “Fully legal, and it furthers UniFlag's image as a humanitarian company."

"A humanitarian company,” Jackson repeated, though there was little enthusiasm in his voice. “Good. Are there any other issues we need to consider?"

The attorney riffled through his papers. “I see a possible problem with the ‘Church of Spafu’ concept,” he said. “In the unlikely event we lose the Schultz suit—"

"This possibility is already covered,” McGinn said with a smirk. “Although, Franz, I am quite certain that with your department in charge of the defense, we will be victorious."

"Thank you for the vote of confidence.” Niedemeyer turned toward the CEO. “Then I see no legal or ethical problems with Mister McGinn's plan."

Jackson leaned back in his chair, looking like the meeting had aged him ten years. “Thank you, Franz. You may go now. I'm sure you have much to do.” As the lawyer picked up his papers and departed, the CEO turned to face McGinn. “I have a bad feeling, Paul. Something tells me I'm going to regret this decision someday."

McGinn leaned over the table, his face just inches from Jackson's. “This is our chance, Cornell, our big chance to get UniFlag back on top. Remember those days, when we owned the entertainment market? The biggest showplexes, the number-one park—and then the Dizzers came along with that damned Safari themeworld—"

"Must you use that term? DisWarner is simply a competitor."

"No. Not just a competitor.” McGinn stood, towering above Jackson, pointing his finger straight into the chairman's face. “You know your problem, Cornell? You're not hungry anymore. You've made it to the top, and you've become soft. Well, I'm still hungry. Business is war, and the Dizzers are the enemy. They damn near ran us out of business with their palm trees and striped horses. If I hadn't pulled the Olympus Experience project together in record time, this company would be history and we'd both be selling hotdogs for the rat."

Jackson sighed. “I'm well aware of that, and it's why I stood by you when the technolepathy project blew up. You're too valuable to lose over an unfortunate accident. But you've got to be careful, Paul, you've got to be careful. This pyrovirus thing could have landed us all in jail..."

"—and instead it's going to make Grand Taupeaquaah the most sensational themeworld ever!” McGinn's nervous energy drove him to pace the room. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.” Jackson waved his hand wearily, and McGinn departed, a triumphant look on his face.

Jackson sat in silence for nearly a minute. Then he whispered, “Paul, there's such a thing as being too hungry.” With that remark, the recording ended.

Nalia stared hard at Jape, and for a moment Scrornuck again thought he saw a purplish-white light in her eyes. Just as his hand started moving toward Ol’ Red, she turned away and stared at the ground. “So that's our whole purpose?” she said. “To put on a show for the amusement of these people?"

Jape stared at the softscroll for a long time before speaking. “I'm sorry, Nalia. I knew this world had been created as a place of entertainment, but I never knew just how far they'd gone..."

"And our Temple?” she interrupted. “Our rituals, the sacrifices, all just another amusement?” A tear rolled down her cheek and fell into the dust. “A hundred years we've waited for the Guests to come, serving them was our whole purpose, and we were just—just a show!"

"I'm sorry..."

"And they killed a million people, burned them up alive. Cold-blooded murderers..."

"It was over a hundred years ago,” Scrornuck said. “It's all right now."

"No, it's
not!"
Nalia threw her purse at Jape's feet. “It's not, it's not,
it's not!"
Scrornuck held her, trying to calm her down. She pounded her fists on his chest and screamed, “Nothing's all right! How could they do that? Murderers!” Tears streamed down her face as she turned to vent her anger on Jape. “Sixty-one million of your people disappeared? Your world's going to be destroyed? Good! You deserve it!” With that she turned and ran up the hill. Scrornuck stared at Jape and wondered,
what now?

"Room for another up there?” Scrornuck asked.

Nalia, sitting on the fender of the dead earthmover, nodded silently. Scrornuck hopped up next to her and watched the breeze ripple through the grass. It's almost too beautiful, he thought, as the gentle breezes mussed his hair and the sun warmed his face. After a long silence, he sighed. “I guess the romance is over."

She said nothing for a long time, and then let out a long, sad sigh of her own. “I don't know. This isn't your fault. But how could they have done that?"

He shrugged. “They were greedy, they were arrogant, they found a way to get what they thought they wanted."

She shivered with rage. “All this time, I haven't been dreaming—I've been remembering. Those people dropped that pyro-whatzis from their flying machines, and innocent people burned up. It was murder, plain and simple. Didn't they know that?"

"They knew. In their minds, they made excuses, but in their hearts they knew it was wrong. That's why they sealed the records."

"And they made us worship a cartoon for their amusement. That hurts.” She folded her arms in her lap and leaned forward. “I feel so empty, right in here. Spafu is the only god I ever knew. I suppose I should feel better knowing the truth, but I just feel betrayed and empty. And then they didn't even have the decency to tell us when they ran away."

Gently, he put an arm around her waist. He could feel her drawing ragged breaths, just this side of sobbing. “I had such a good life,” she said, “until you two came along. Now I've got nothing to believe in and people are dying all around."

"Do you really think we brought this?"

"Before you came, this world was like the garden in that story you told me. Before the snake came. I feel like you two brought evil into our world."

"Jape and I didn't teach those soldiers how to kill. We didn't give Tremmlowe those drugs and poisons. And we sure didn't give the Captain that idea about skinning me alive."

"I guess.” She stared at the ground.

"Nalia,” he said softly, “we didn't bring evil into this world. It was already here. This world was born in the murder of a million people.” He gently lifted her chin and made her look into his eyes. “The snake's been here all along."

She sighed softly. “I was
happy
before you came. Now I'm furious at Jape's world, and I'd give anything to get five minutes with that son-of-a-bitch McGinn..."

"So would I, but he's been dead for a hundred years. Whatever judgment he deserved, he's already faced. Meanwhile, in a few more days, the streams will cross. And if Jape's ring is still red, his world and yours die. You live together, or you die together."

"Yeah.” She bit her lip and gazed across the field, watching Jape as he sat outside his tent and sipped coffee. “I think I'd rather we all live."

They said nothing for another few minutes, watching a few puffy white clouds drift by. Finally Nalia broke the silence. “I'm afraid. I could have killed Jape. I wasn't in control of it—I just saw something in his thoughts, and I wanted it and I wasn't going to let him stop me. What would I have done if you hadn't been there? What am I going to do when we're back in the city, with thousands of other minds around me?” She turned and looked him in the eye, desperation in her voice. “Make me a promise. Tell me you won't leave me alone with this power, not until I know I won't hurt anybody. I know you'll be leaving soon, but please, promise you won't leave me alone with this.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I need a Protector, too."

Crap, he thought, I don't know squat about mind reading. He wanted desperately to promise he'd be there for her, forever if she needed him, but it would take a huge leap of faith to believe he could protect her from something he couldn't even perceive.

"I promise,” he said, taking that leap. “I don't know how I'll do it, but I will. Somehow."

"Perhaps we're only getting what we deserve,” Jape said sadly, as Scrornuck and Nalia returned to the campfire. “This isn't the only world with a bloody history. My ancestors killed a lot of people building these places. McGinn was the only one who tried to just burn them up, but I've found stories of forced relocation, starvation and disease being used to get the native people out of the developers’ way.” He sighed. “Now we're losing millions of our own people in the timequakes. Maybe it's justice.” He turned wearily to face Nalia. “Can you stand to be around me?"

She refused to look directly at him. “It's not going to be easy. Your people did a terrible thing to my people. But Scrornuck tells me that if we don't save your world, we can't save mine, and I don't want that. I guess we have to work together, somehow."

Jape stared at his feet. “I need your help, for the sake of your world, if not for mine. I'll try to stay out of your way."

"We need to do better than that.” Scrornuck stretched out his hands to Jape and Nalia. “The people who made this world are dead,” he said. “The people they killed to make this world are dead, and the dead can't forgive the dead.” Gently but insistently, he pulled them to their feet, so that they were facing each other. “But the living can forgive the living.” He looked at Nalia. “I ask you: on behalf of the people of your world, can you forgive Jape's people for what they did here?"

A tear rolled down her cheek. “I'll try."

He turned to Jape. “And I ask you: speaking for the people of your world, can you acknowledge your ancestors’ guilt, and accept this world's forgiveness?"

Jape thought for a long time before answering. “Yes."

Scrornuck slowly placed Nalia's hand in Jape's. “So be it. Let these worlds be at peace.” He released Jape's hand and turned to Nalia. “Feeling any better now?"

There was a bit of surprise in her voice as she answered. “Yeah."

He turned to Jape. “And you?"

The Ranger nodded, shook off his hood, and surveyed the beautiful morning. “I feel like somebody just lifted a huge load off my shoulders."

"Good.” Scrornuck reached into the pack and came up with three beers. “A toast, then. To forgiving!"