The Unincorporated Man (56 page)

“And how did you answer him?” asked Einstein.

“With a question of my own,” answered Sebastian. “It was sufficient to distract him.”

“Him, yes,” answered one of the council members, “but Neela, no.”

“Excuse me?” asked Sebastian.

Einstein looked at the avatar sitting next to Sebastian. “Evelyn will explain.”

“Neela asked me about
you
, Sebastian. She wanted to know about your ‘new’ operating protocols. You did such a good job with Justin she thinks avatars have better beginning integration programs. Don’t worry, I, too, distracted her. It’s real easy nowadays. I just bring up some threat to Justin, and she goes gaga.”

Sebastian saw that the council was waiting for his response.

“Given the nature of their relationship,” he said, “I don’t find it at all unusual. Further, I predict one of two outcomes, both good by the way, given enough time.”

“And they would be?” asked Einstein.

“One, he simply becomes acculturated and forgets. Or two, he figures it out in a couple of years, but agrees to keep the secret.”

“That would be very dangerous.”

“But not unprecedented. It has happened once before,” said Sebastian.

“We got lucky,” answered the council leader. “Ms. Trudy was content just to know and was smart enough to realize the stakes should she reveal the secret. That was also over seventy years ago, when we hadn’t perfected the enculturation protocols.”

Sebastian shrugged. “Humans may be more accepting than we think.”

“Need I remind you,” continued the leader, “that we are
virtual
intelligences living in a
virtual
world. We must also not forget the way humans feel about anything of our nature.”

A chorus of agreement in the form of grunts and nodding heads.

She continued. “We have used this ‘anti all things virtual’ meme to our advantage, helping the humans to disengage from us at a very young age; the disadvantage of the tactic is, of course, that the meme still exists and continues to be as strong as ever.”

“Well, there is that,” answered Sebastian, “but unlike Ms. Trudy, Justin is a major celebrity. He is in the center of both our worlds, and this makes his actions more consequential than those of any other human in our existence.”

“Unless he were to
not
exist,” threatened Al Capone.

Sebastian was quiet for a moment. “I see. Is that why I wasn’t informed of plans for this most recent assassination attempt?”

“We generally don’t intervene in the human world,” answered Al, “unless the need arises.”

“Al, to put it nicely,” answered Sebastian not so nicely, “that’s a load of crap. We’ve intervened for a lot less.” Then, pointing accusingly to no single council member, he raised his voice. “You almost let my human die; a human, I might add, who I believe is very important to both our world and his.”

“You’re worried about humans dying?” scoffed Al Capone. “That’s rich. If predictions follow course many of our avatars are going to be orphaned soon. Justin is nothing but trouble, Sebastian. Before he came everything was perfect.”

Sebastian, putting forefinger and thumb into the nooks of his eyes, shook his head back and forth. “Perfect. Perfect, you say.” He then put both hands down on the table and looked up. “I would not say that. I would say that humanity was very much in trouble.”

“Perhaps,” answered Einstein, “council misspoke. Not perfect, but certainly good. I dare say we have all done well protecting as well as advancing our progenitor race.”

“I agree,” answered Sebastian, “that we have done well—perhaps even too well. Our initial projections would have had humanity already extended far beyond the solar system. They are decades late. The rate of innovation in new ideas is slowing down. There are more and more humans and yet there are fewer and fewer truly original ideas. And this is true within our world as well. I know we love to create and then introduce
our
ideas to the human world via the unwitting acquiescence of our entwined partners. But our creativity, too, is suffering. If this keeps up, both races should soon die of peace, contentment, and boredom.”

No one stirred. Perhaps mulling over his words or, as Sebastian suspected, because the idea was not compelling enough.

He decided to try a different tack. “Did not some of you wonder why I did not reentwine when I had a chance? Truth is, I was going to, but I had an epiphany. I loved all three of my humans and would not undo a single moment with any of them. But I also knew that my next would be like the last one, and then again the same. I yearned for something new, and it was not there. I feared that it would never be there. Until Justin came along. And I am grateful to the council for trusting me with his tutelage. In short, I may be worried, even sometimes terrified, but I am not bored. Humanity is buzzing again in a way we have not felt in years.”

The council leader looked at Sebastian. “Do you honestly think that we were wrong to help sustain the humans in the world they wanted?”

“No. I do not. But I do believe if that world continues, both races, physiological and
Neuro
logical, will decline—to what end I cannot predict.”

There was brief, muted discussion among the members, and then a summary judgment.

“Justin Cord will have council protection until deemed unnecessary,” said the leader. “We thank you both for your time.”

With that the chambers disappeared around Evelyn and Sebastian.

“Until the next time then,” Evelyn said, smiling.

“Until the next time,” answered Sebastian as they both disappeared into the infinite portals of the Neuro.

10 The Coming Storm

S
ean Doogle was finally at peace. He’d written his will and prepared his last testament to be broadcast after his demise. Cassandra, his information system analyst and occasional lover, had sworn to him that his dying wishes would be transmitted at the best possible time. He chose the room of his death carefully, insuring he’d not only be alone, but also carrying nothing of informational value. His last act before leaving was to have all his personal codes and passwords changed—out of his eyesight. Other than Cassandra, he said good-bye to no one, and disappeared into the suburbs and slipped quietly into a rented, fixed house. While there he made a typical upload to the Neuro with yet another powerful diatribe against incorporation, but this time he did so manually. His finger hovered over the disconnect button on his DijAssist, and in an act of suicide as final as jumping off a building or shooting himself in the head, he did not press it.

The whole of Confederation Plaza was filled with people… waiting. It almost had the air of a festival, but of one far more subdued. There were vendors selling everything from food and trinkets to sonic shower bags and privacy tents. If asked, many would say they were there simply to catch a glimpse of Justin Cord, Neela, Hektor, or any of the celebrities who’d managed to secure seats for the event. But for the most part, they were there to be a part of history. As it was, every hotel room was booked solid, and the Geneva police, for the first time in living memory, were having to enforce the seldom needed and rarely used public safety laws.

Inside the court the trial was about to begin. The room itself was in the shape of a large auditorium. The bench seating could and did hold hundreds of spectators. The five justices would take seats at the bottom of the well around a semicircular conference table facing the spectators. The prosecution and defense teams were already at their tables in front of where the justices would sit. Unlike the old Supreme Court of the United States, all participants in this drama were seated at the same level.

Justin looked over at the government’s prosecution team. He wasn’t surprised to see Janet Delgado, head of GCI’s vaunted Legal department, sitting with the prosecution. Manny had told him that the government had requested her for the trial, and that she’d been given a leave of absence to honor that request. This was a major change from Justin’s time. If Sony Ltd. had lent the Justice Department a lawyer for a major case, the scandal would have been enough to destroy a presidency. But in this millennium it was apparently done often. In fact, it was openly admitted that the government did not attract the best or most competent people. As a consequence, government could and did ask for the temporary help of the private sector on different occasions. This allowance had made Manny’s job far more difficult and Justin’s prospects worse. It didn’t help that Janet Delgado was looking at Justin and Manny with undisguised pleasure. If hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Justin was willing to bet that the corporate culture had no fury like a powerful female executive of the most powerful corporation in history publicly humiliated. Janet had the look of a warrior who would not be bested a second time.

Everyone quieted down as the five justices entered the large chamber. As the group approached the bench, Justin saw a black robe draped on the back of each chair. It was only as each justice put on their robes that all in the room rose to their feet. As he took his own seat, the chief justice waved for the room to sit down. The rest of the bench followed suit. The low buzz of conversation stopped instantly when the chief justice banged his gavel. Justin knew from his weeks of preparation with Manny that the Supreme Court of the Terran Confederation was the one branch of the government that was respected. Part of the reason was that of the three major branches this court’s power could and did reach beyond the confines of Geneva and the terraformed worlds. The other reason had to do with respect. All of the justices had been handpicked from the private sector, had many decades of experience, and had come with well-regarded reputations in the extremely competitive world of law.

“It has been the tradition of this court,” began the chief justice, “to only review cases and not actually hold trials. For reasons that have already been explained we will break with this tradition. We
will
have a trial here. The thirty-minute rule of argument presentation is dispensed with. It is requested that the honored counsel do not take this as an invitation to lecture at length. It is not. You will speak only as long as
we
wish. I warn you—do not waste our time. The prosecution and defense will present their opening arguments in that order. Then they will present their evidence. Then they will close. Let’s get this over with.” He banged his gavel. “Court is now in session.”

Janet Delgado did not hesitate. She was on her feet in an instant.

“The government,” she said, with as austere a voice as she could muster, “is a vital part of our society. The founders of the confederation knew this. They knew that government must be limited. But they also knew that government had a role. More important, they knew that it must be supported. To that end they set up a simple and efficient means to garner that support. It is a method that is straightforward, effective, and nonintrusive. And it’s also a method that has stood that most important of tests… time. We want the defendant, Justin Cord, to be treated just like every other person in the solar system. We desire that he be required to obey the Constitution, as every other human being must. To not recognize the justice of this request would be to put all that we hold to be true at risk. A foundation stone of our civilization is that laws must be few, they must be simple, and they must apply to everyone. Until now Justin Cord has existed in a legal loophole. It’s time to close it.”

Janet returned to her seat.

The chief justice looked at his fellow justices. They nodded as one. “The court,” bellowed the chief justice, “will take a five-minute recess.” They immediately began discussing Janet Delgado’s opening statement.

Manny leaned over to Justin. “Mr. Cord, I must be honest with you in that I do not have a legal leg to stand on. I will try my best for you, but…”

Justin put his hand on Manny’s shoulder. “Just do your best, Manny. You’ve already done more than I could have hoped for. Winning that first case was a miracle, and I appreciate it.”

Manny frowned. “I’m fresh out of miracles, my friend.” He stood up and was about to give his inadequate opening when each justice gave the unmistakable head motion associated with listening to a subvocalized avatar. Justin saw that Hektor Sambianco, sitting in the front row, was also listening with his “inner” ear. That was all it took for the entire courtroom to take their avatars off the do-not-disturb mode to find out what was going on.

And that was how the trial found out that government agents, acting on their own, had managed to track down and arrest the most feared terrorist of the modern age, Sean Doogle. The large crowd of reporters in the auditorium was at a loss—leave and pursue the latest story or stay and cover the present one? The court, not wishing any doubt to be cast on its fairness in this most important of cases, decided to extend their recess for the remainder of the day. With a speed that would have done credit to a bomb threat, the courtroom emptied. Justin looked at Manny. They didn’t know how, and weren’t sure why, but their miracle had just arrived.

The greatest failure of any bureaucracy is not an inability to act. This they do in many little ways and many big ways. What destroys most bureaucracies is an inability to think.

—DAVID LINDSEY, AUTHOR OF
RISE OF BUREAUCRACY, FALL OF AMERICA

_______

Hektor Sambianco was worried. He left the courtroom immediately, rushing out to his waiting flyer. He’d weeks earlier dispensed with the fancy limo his predecessor had favored and switched it for a more utilitarian and certainly less comfy communications vehicle. This flyer’s specialty interior enabled him to be in constant contact with every conceivable facet of his empire—wherever he managed to find himself. The command center also came with a dedicated, hardworking staff that to a person was proud to be associated with the newest rising star of GCI. They were also of a mind with him about the importance of his work. However, what they were telling him now was not making him happy. Something was indeed very wrong.

“Mariko,” Hektor asked his number two, with a tinge of worry in his voice, “do you mean to tell me that a group of government-paid incompetents who couldn’t find a pussy in a whorehouse has succeeded where the resources of GCI failed?”

Mariko, a sprightly blond Asian woman with a constant spring in her step even when standing, nodded.

Hektor scratched his chin. “Does that seem like a logical thing to you?”

“Nope. But what do you want me to say? They have him and we don’t.”

Hektor liberated a cigar from his pocket. “What are they telling us?”

“Nothing.”

“And they know,” he said, lighting up his Monte Cristo, “who you work for?”

“Boss, that’s the problem. We shut them out of our investigation and, to be honest, haven’t been very nice to them in the press. Personally, they think we can all take a hike.”

Hektor grinned, realizing his mistake. “Mariko, let this be a lesson to you. Rudeness is like land mines you set for yourself.” Hektor allowed himself a moment to think. As he did, he took another long pull on his cigar—it was a vice he was indulging in more and more. “Well, we can’t threaten their jobs, they work for the government. Too late to be nice. So let’s bribe someone.”

“Already on it, boss,” Mariko said proudly, handing her boss a DijAssist for thumbprint approval. “One of the guards is about to win a free promotional vacation to the rings of Saturn for three, all expenses paid, of course.”

“Of course,” smirked Hektor, staring at a holodisplay of the guard in question.

Special Operations, under the banner of GCI en total, always had some sort of ongoing contest. Superficially, the contests were good-will gestures meant to strengthen brand loyalty and awareness. However, if one were to dig a little deeper they’d find the “other” reason just as compelling—bribery. Most of the time the bribes weren’t necessary and the prizes were awarded to a truly random sampling of the population. But when needed, there was nothing like a trip to the Moon or a ten-year lease on a fluid home to help unlock zipped lips.

“By the way—three?” asked Hektor.

“He’s poly,” she answered, using the slang to indicate group marriage. Mariko was tapping her toe quietly on the ground, waiting for Hektor to hand back her DijAssist.

Hektor frowned and attached his signature to the unit. “Better make it four, then.”

His assistant nodded. “He comes off shift in…” She stared at a clock on the wall. “Twenty minutes. Five minutes to the café, and then we’ll find out what the government’s up to.”

“Mariko, I just may be in love.”

“Words, words,” she said. “Now, if you were to say it in Chairman stock…”

“Love, maybe,” Hektor answered, blowing an O ring into the air, “insane—no.”

Mariko stuck her tongue out playfully and got back to insuring that the meeting with the government cop went off as planned. The exchange of goods was meant to be a simple affair. The cop would be met at the diner by a man who had a credit voucher in cash for half the amount of the trip. When the cop “won” the trip he would destroy the incriminating voucher. If the cop decided to get cute by, say, cashing the voucher anyway or selling
his
sellout to a media outlet, GCI would suffer embarrassment, but Hektor would make sure the turncoat got no pleasure from his actions. But neither Mariko nor Hektor was worried. For starters, no one—unless they were a lunatic—messed with GCI. It was simply too big a bridge to burn. And second, bribing government officials was easy, certainly compared to bribing persons from other corporations.

The cop came off schedule exactly twenty minutes from the time Mariko said he would. Five minutes later he was at the café, and five minutes after that Hektor had his information.

Hektor read the brief dispatch and stubbed out his cigar in one of the many well-situated ashtrays found in the communications center.

Now he was truly worried.

The attorney general was finally having a good day. Ever since the assassination of the president he’d been bombarded with calls to “do something,” “act quickly,” and “stop screwing up.” All of which galled him to no end. He’d earned his position through years of hard work and loyal service. His promotions had come at expected, if not always merited, intervals, and he’d done it all by the book. So when he’d captured the
wrong
Sean Doogle, all the sneers and jokes about “good enough for government work” or “those who can’t do, govern” were dragged out and rehashed for the scapegoat-hungry media. Even his kids were finding excuses not to come by and visit. But he was having his day now, wasn’t he? GCI had failed to find Sean Doogle. Even the vaunted Pinkertons had failed to find the bastard. But agents of the Justice Department had.
His agents
, he thought gleefully. Yes, the attorney general was looking at the Neuro and finally seeing his name associated with adjectives other than “moronic,” “typical,” and “useless.” Of course, the adjectives of “surprising” and “amazing” were also insulting, but less so. It was in this particular happy state that he was told that the DepDir of Special Operations for GCI was calling. The attorney general was pleasantly surprised.

It’s about time he called to congratulate me
, he thought.

“Tell him I’ll be with him in a moment,” he instructed his assistant. Though he wasn’t inundated with anything, it wasn’t every day that a man such as himself got to put one of the most powerful people in the system on hold.

“Uh, sir,” said his more politically astute aide, “you sure you want to do that?”

“Yes… yes,” he answered, ignoring the advice at his own peril, “I believe I do.” After all, he’d captured the most hated man in the solar system. Not even that Sambianco asshole could touch him now.