The Unincorporated Man (61 page)

Janet wasn’t sure what to make of his response, so the question she’d had on her mind popped right out like a surfacing bubble.

“How is it, Mr. Black, I’d never heard of you before all this?” she asked, referring to the trials.

Manny seemed delighted to engage her. “I never went after cases that would generate a lot of press. I was more interested in cases that dealt with interesting aspects of the law. Such cases are rare, and when they did arise would often end up in the big firms. That left me with the mostly pro bono cases. The press doesn’t really care about the pennies… unless, of course, they become shooting stars.”

“Well, then,” she asked, less petulance in her tone, “why didn’t you go work for one of the big firms?”

“They wouldn’t hire me. The small ones would, but I would’ve gotten the same sort of cases anyway, only I would have had a boss. I was smart enough,” he said, with a slight twinkle in his eye, “to have rich parents, and so I figured, why work for someone else if I didn’t have to?”

Manny’s stomach burbled.

“Oh my. What time is it?” he asked.

Janet didn’t bother to ask him why his avatar hadn’t told him, she just answered by moving her finger in a certain manner and having her avatar project the time on her eye as a blue overhead. “Six nineteen and twenty-seven seconds,” she answered.

“Oh, I guess it’s a bit late for breakfast. Do you know a quick place to eat?”

Janet knew that she would not spend the evening with her grumpy staff. She would spend it with the defense counsel—a much better use of her time.

“Forget ‘quick.’ I know a good restaurant that will be private,” she said, giving a withering look to the unblinking reporters who were still watching and listening to their every word. Then, to Manny: “You’ll love it.”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

Janet took the strange little man by the elbow and led him out of the court building. “Not at all. My treat.”

“If you pick the restaurant,” he said, “I insist on picking up the bill.”

“Bill? What’s a… oh, you mean ‘the tab.’ ” They went out into the night.

What Janet would later remember about that evening was how much fun she’d had. His mannerisms were strange. For instance, when Manny held the door open, seated her, and then carefully asked what she wanted so he could order for her, she wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or flattered. It was her inability to nail down Manny Black as a person or a lawyer that made him go from being an annoying little man to a curiously large riddle.

He was definitely a brilliant lawyer. He could make connections that she’d never even dreamed possible. She was charmed and gratified to find that he knew all about her cases, and even got the impression that it wasn’t just research for the trial. It seemed to her that Manny Black had followed her cases out of professional respect, seemingly having a genuine interest in her work and career. Although he wouldn’t discuss the current case in any detail, and nor did she, the evening still turned out to be one of the most delightful she’d ever had. He was one of the few men who could keep up with her when she went on a legal tangent. Instead of getting a glazed look when a particularly abstract precedent was brought up, Manny got excited, and usually found one to complement it. She finished the dinner laughing at his cache of lawyer jokes and groaning at his lawyer puns. When the evening ended she wasn’t even annoyed when he walked her to her door and took her hand in his to say good night. He didn’t shake it—he gingerly lifted her hand, and, bowing slightly, said, “Good night.”

Janet was confused by the gesture but strangely touched by a custom so archaic she’d never heard of it.

When her phone rang the next morning she found herself hoping it was Manny. When it wasn’t she was annoyed with herself for being annoyed. The next call was from Manny, and she was delighted. He invited her to breakfast, and she immediately accepted. Before she could ask, “Where?” he said he’d be by in an hour. Without realizing it, Janet put a little extra care in getting ready for her “date.” And when Manny picked her up she was no longer surprised that he walked her over to her side of the flyer and waited until she was seated before he got in on the other side. It seemed natural. The days somehow turned into an entire week of Manny seeing Janet every day. Each day was filled with intelligent conversation, good food, and even a little haute couture as Janet introduced Manny to proper fashion. Manny took pleasure in teaching Janet that his version of sexism was the much older practice of chivalry. And Janet took pleasure in teaching Manny that paying attention to one’s surroundings was also a form of, if not chivalry, then courtship.

It went on this way for some time until, at the end of the week, Manny met Janet at her room with a dour look on his face.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, troubled by his look.

“I’m afraid I can’t see you again, Miss Delgado.” Janet no longer minded him using “Miss.” The way he said it made it much more intimate than if he’d called her by her first name.

“Why not?” Janet asked, more alarmed now than she could ever have thought possible, especially given the way she’d felt one week earlier.

“I’m growing quite fond of you, Miss Delgado.” Manny’s eyes seemed to droop a little as his mouth formed a slight grimace. “Should this trial continue, our relationship would have an adverse effect on my ability to be a good counsel to my client—if I’m still with you, that is. I apologize. It’s just that you’re the first lawyer, and certainly the first woman, I’ve ever met who could actually understand… me.”

Janet thought he was giving her more credit than she deserved. Some of the legal concepts Manny had introduced her to made her feel like she was back in law school, chatting with a brilliant professor who knew all the answers without having to think about them. But she had never let on to Manny about those feelings.

“You have no idea,” continued Manny, “how attractive that makes you. I find myself thinking of you and not my client, and that is not fair, to you or to him.”

Part of Janet felt like shouting, “Screw ‘fair’ and Justin Cord!” but she also understood. Because she had been feeling the same way. If they continued, the closer they got, the more complicated it would get. Best to let the case settle, she admitted to herself, and then pursue the obvious attraction postverdict. Her mind replayed the first part of what Manny had said. “You think I can win?”

“Of course you can win!” he exclaimed. “Either way it’s going to be a three-two decision.”

Janet nodded, having concluded the exact same thing.

The Supreme Court met in chambers for seven days. Justin spent every minute of every waking hour jetting from orbital platform to town to city preaching his mantra of passive resistance to the incorporation system. Tight security slowed him down, but with the media trailing his every move his message got out, and to great effect.

Neela and Justin were in the most recent hotbed of Alaska—a territory rightly pissed at what the incorporationists had done to their elegant and simplified system—when news reached them that a verdict had come down. They made it to the court an hour and a half after getting the call.

Manny looked calm. Janet had a look of smoldering anger that kept the government lawyers on her side of the court moving slowly toward the opposite end of her table. Justin would have taken hope from that, except that Janet Delgado pretty much had that look all the time now.

Justin left Neela in the spectators’ section and sat next to Manny.

“Hello, Manny,” he said. “How did you spend your days of waiting?”

“Ahh, Mr. Cor…, I mean, Justin. I was having sex.”

“Really?” Justin said, taken aback. “How… um, nice, I guess.”

“Oh, it was, Justin. She was surprisingly… considerate.”

Justin smiled at his lawyer’s choice of words. “Anyone I know?”

Manny looked over his shoulder at Janet, raising his eyebrow a notch.

“No shit!”

“Is that a term of disapproval? I can assure you, Mr. Cord, that I in no way compromised your case by my dalliance with Ms. Delgado, and have broken it off.”

“Manny, if you like her you didn’t have to break up on my account.”

Manny looked dubious. “Yes, I did.”

Justin changed the subject. “Does the fact that the court took the full seven days help or hurt us?”

“Too many variables to be sure, but I would like to think that if they were going to hang you out to dry they would not have taken this long to do it. But that is wishful thinking. This trial is unique, so the time they took could simply be the time they took.”

The justices filed in and took their seats. Justice Tadasuke started to speak.

“The court has had a very difficult choice to make over the past seven days. The choice basically boils down to one question: Can the state force Justin Cord to behave in a manner that the state wishes, or is Justin Cord free to choose his own economic life? The court rules that Justin Cord is free to choose one of the two methods of payment mandated by law. To do otherwise…” He was not able to finish his sentence, as the crowd became unwieldy, with jeering and cheering both emanating from the chamber. Chief Justice Lee slammed his gavel down hard on the table.

“I’m warning you. Any further outburst and I will clear this courtroom!” When the crowd noise subsided he motioned for Justice Tadasuke to continue.

“As I was saying… to do otherwise is to ignore the very basis of our government: the individual choosing freely. The court finds that though the prosecution’s argument had merit, the effect Justin Cord has on individuals is their responsibility. To hold Justin Cord hostage to the illegal behavior of individuals he does not control or actions he does not condone is to punish him for a crime he did not commit. I will issue the written opinion for the majority, and Chief Justice Lee will issue the written opinion for the minority. Good day.”

JUSTIN CORD STILL UNINCORPORATED!

—NEURO DISPATCH, SECONDS AFTERANNOUNCEMENT OF VERDICT

Justin approached the huge doors leading out of the court building and whispered to Neela, “I’m going to do it.”

“Do what?”

“What we talked about in Alaska.”

“Oh, shi…” Neela’s exclamation was cut off as the huge doors opened and both she and Justin were assaulted by the waves of cheering and shouting generated by well over half a million people. From their vantage point high on the steps of the courthouse building they had a clear view into the barely controlled pandemonium. Neela was terrified by all the noise, energy, and raw power being directed toward them. But she saw that Justin was confident, calm—almost bathing himself in the crowd’s adoration. When he waved, the mass of humanity burst as one into a mighty roar.

“I am free,” said Justin, aware that everyone’s DijAssist would play his words as if he were standing beside them. “But,” he continued, “that is not enough. It’s not enough for one human to be free. All humans must have that choice.” More cheering erupted.

“The system of incorporation is not inherently evil, but,” he continued, “it must change. Incorporation was meant to aid humanity, not enslave it!”

Justin was staggered by what was happening. He knew the power he had now. He felt it and was tempted.
It would be so easy
, he thought.
Is this how all the great men who moved entire nations with their words alone had felt?
He could announce that he was running for the presidency and call a new constitutional convention, one that would give him ultimate power. And if he didn’t get what he wanted he could plunge the entire system into war and anarchy, and then rebuild it from the ruins into an image more to his liking. He’d read enough history to see that route clearly. All he had to do was reach out and take it. Though he felt the temptation he just as quickly put it aside. Demagogy was not the path he was meant to take.

“I thought,” he bellowed, “that I could stand aside and give advice and lead by quiet example, but events have shown that to be impossible. Too many have been hurt by my reticence. Too many have died.” The large crowd remained mostly silent, except for a few shouted denials in Justin’s defense.

“I created a problem and let others try to solve it, but no longer. As of today I am putting myself forward as a candidate for chairman of the Liberty Party!” An even bigger roar of approval. “If chosen,” he continued, “I promise not to run for any elective office. I will try to lead the Liberty Party the best I am able. We must be free and
we will be free
. Every life enriches us, and every death diminishes us. Let us all work for the day that there is no longer one free man.
Let us all work for the day when all men are free!”

The cheering lasted for well over an hour.

12 Rise

J
anet Delgado stormed out of the court building and took her private t.o.p. to the GCI orport. She didn’t say a word to anyone, and no one said a word to her. She marched straight from the tube down into Hektor’s offices. News of her coming must have been given because the workplace was practically empty.

“OK, Sambianco,” she hissed, barging into his work area, “I don’t give a damn that you’re the DepDir. You
will
tell me why you left me out to dry or I’ll…”

“Justin Cord had to win,” he said, cutting her off.

“Hektor, what happened to you? You’re the one who convinced me that Justin Cord had to incorporate. I had that case won. To be honest, if you had let me know that you were going to give Manny HR 27-03 I might have won anyway. They were in chambers for seven days. One of those bastards almost went my way!”

“Thank Damsah the bastard didn’t.” Hektor’s lips parted in realization. “Did you just call him Manny?”

Janet was momentarily flustered. “It’s not like that. Well, not exactly. He’s just a… well, he’s sort of… I mean, we…” She remembered that she was mad at Hektor. “Stop trying to change the subject!”

“Of course, you and ‘Manny’ deserve your privacy. You really think you could have won if you had more time to prepare?”

“Possibly. Hektor, it was so close. Seven days. Do you know what that means? Two justices for my point of view and two for Manny’s and both sides working on the fifth.”

“In that case I’m so glad I didn’t give you the time you needed because, as I said before, Justin had to win.”

“For the love of Damsah’s wife, would you please tell me why?”

“Janet, Justin must incorporate, but he can no longer be forced to do so.”

Despite Janet’s look of bewilderment, Hektor continued. “What Justin Cord was when he woke up is not what he is now. I always knew that he was potential trouble, but I was counting on it being years or even decades until he could affect us as a society. We were all wrong. Maybe it was the fact that Justin was the perfect ‘hero,’ for lack of a better word. Maybe it was simply a matter of timing. Personally, I think it was Sean Doogle who pushed this whole discontent thing much faster and further than it should have gone. But Janet, it doesn’t matter what caused it. It’s a fact that Justin Cord is not ‘Justin Cord’ to millions of people. He’s either the ‘Unincorporated Man’ or, far more dangerous, the ‘One Free Man,’ for anyone who gives a damn about our world. You may have been wrapped up in the trial, but I saw and ran the demographics and reran the demographics.
Justin Cord ended the riots
. There are millions of people, and that number is growing, who are more loyal to Justin Cord than they are to anything else. They’ll give up financial obligations. They’ll forgo family considerations, they’ll even place his well-being above that of society.”

“Presumably,” Janet asked, “you’ve got the research data to back that up.”

“In droves. Trust me, Justin rates so high we had to recalibrate the programs… twice. There’s no basis for comparison.”

Janet allowed herself a chuckle. “Too bad we can’t use the SOB to pitch a product. From what you’re telling me he could sell horseshit and people would buy it.”

“That’s what I’m telling you. And it is too bad. But the problem’s bigger than that, my dear.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked. “How so?”

“What if the product he’s selling,” Hektor said, narrowing his eyes, “is revolution?”

Janet’s face went pale as she realized the implications.

“Sweet Damsah, then didn’t you just make him more dangerous?”

“No, he’s still just as dangerous. But if he were forced to incorporate he’d no longer be an active factor in the process. He would be, for all intents and purposes, dead.”

Janet scrunched her thinly trimmed brows together. “And that would be bad because?”

“If Justin dies he becomes a martyr. The disruptive process continues without him, and we may very well end up with a revolution. To that end you have no idea how much time and money this office has spent keeping the bastard alive.”

“I thought he had his own security.”

“Idiots. If Justin only knew how many times we’ve had to intervene to save his sorry ass. He, of course, hasn’t helped them with all his spontaneous excursions.”

Janet shook her head in disbelief. “So, let me get this straight—if he’s alive
and
remains unincorporated the threat ends?”

Hektor nodded. “As strange as that sounds, yes. We ran the numbers over and over. If he is forcibly incorporated he dies a metaphoric death.”

“Thereby becoming a martyr for the cause,” offered Janet.

“Correct. Though he’s now ‘incorporated,’ his ghost, in the form of a forever resentful and seething Justin Cord, continues to harass the world until he dies… and even then he haunts us from the grave. In some studies it would be better to kill him.”

“I still don’t see,” she said, “how what you’re proposing is better.”

“Janet,” he answered, “the bottom line is this. Justin must incorporate. But he must do so voluntarily.”

She let out a guffaw. “Fat chance. He’s a tough old bastard with the money and now the law to back him up. I know the type, Hektor—cold, hard, and calculating. He won’t budge a nanometer from his position, and there’s nothing you or I can do now to change that.”

Hektor smiled. “Justin Cord is not an evil man, Janet. I was tempted to think so, too, but he really isn’t. He’s the product of his civilization, maybe even the best product his civilization had to offer, but not really evil.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“Well, then, let me put it this way—if you saw a penny lying in the street, would you pick it up?”

Janet shrugged. “Why should I? There’s not enough profit in that.”

“Exactly,” answered Hektor. “But Justin would.”

“He’s that greedy?”

“Not greedy, Janet, compassionate. He can’t help it. It’s who he is… and it’s the weakness we can exploit. And one way or another we’ll have to find a way to convince him to voluntarily incorporate or, I’m afraid, die trying.”

“Being a little overdramatic now, aren’t we?”

“I don’t think so. Remember the power he wields and the message he represents. It’s an incendiary combination. However, if we get him to incorporate of his own volition, then the Unincorporated Man dies, but he dies a peaceful, purposeful death.”

Janet smiled. “With the ghost still around, but this time saying, ‘Not to worry, everything’s fine.’ ”

“Exactly.”

Janet, giving Hektor a forgiving smile, finally seemed to understand.

“You know how much I hate being played,” she said.

“Yes,” admitted Hektor, “yes, I do. But you’re too good at your job to be an uncertain variable. I figured the best chance of success was to sandbag you. Sorry, but I made the choice and stand by it.”

“By the way,” she chastised, “you would’ve increased your odds of winning if you’d bothered to give Manny more than a minute and a half to come up with a new defense.”

Hektor let out a laugh. “Janet, had my nanites allowed it I would have had a heart attack that week. Manny had just up and disappeared. We couldn’t find him, contact him, or get to anyone who could get to him. When that man wants to hide, he can hide.”

Janet smiled. “He was not hiding, Hektor, he was oblivious. When he gets into that mode almost nothing can get him out of it.”

“Almost?”

Janet blushed at a memory. She covered with a question. “Still, Hektor, the Western Union man?”

“The Western Union man was just our second-to-last gambit. We were pretty desperate by then. And, to be honest, I still don’t know how that little bugger made it through all the security. He was well compensated, I can assure you.”

“Just out of curiosity, what was your last gambit?”

“We were going to blow up the building.” Hektor saw Janet’s look of shock. “Well, not all of it.”

One week after the trial, Janet spent a lot of time hating Justin Cord, hating Hektor Sambianco, and thinking a lot about Manny. Whenever she did, her eyes would go to the hand with the phone in it, and then she’d find that hand going to her head to make the call… but she’d always pull back. Three weeks after the trial she gave up and called him. Manny sounded so happy and relieved she just wanted to pick him up and hug him. They started dating again, and two weeks later moved in together.

Cassandra Doogle was smiling politely, belying the venom within. She was standing outside, waiting in front of the Victorian mansion that acted as the symbolic head of the Liberty Party headquarters (the real headquarters was located in an office complex in Oakland). Cassandra was presently waiting for the newly elected head of the Liberty Party to waltz in and take away the job that rightfully belonged to her—and she had the added insult of having to do so in front of a ravenous media. She and Sean had built the party, had planned the martyrdom and created the first viable political-versus-economic power base in centuries. She would only grudgingly admit to herself that none of it would have been possible without the catalyst that was Justin Cord. But, she mused, smiling stiffly, that is all he was—a catalyst. Catalysts are not supposed to leap out of the petri dish and start giving orders. Now the brilliant plan that Sean Doogle had given his life for was in jeopardy from this pompous recreant. Why couldn’t he have just gone on vacation and taken his girlfriend with him? If the rumors she’d heard were true. But no, Cord was here to stay—apparently. Cassandra had given thought to opposing Cord and continuing her run. The party core knew and trusted her. But secret polling convinced her that he would still win in a landslide and only divide the party. She gracefully bowed out and had to endure the insipid comments about her “high-mindedness” and “grace.” Bullshit. She had no choice. She still didn’t.

When Justin’s aircar landed she was surprised to see that Dr. Harper was not with him—no, she suddenly remembered, no longer “doctor” thanks to her recent disbarment from the Solar Medical Association. She could get a nonaffiliated doctor’s license; they gave those out in bags of breakfast wigglies, but good luck finding a respectable career without an SMA certification. Cassandra was not displeased. If the rumors
were
true, then the whore got what she deserved. No, the slut wasn’t there, but she could see that his best friend, the tunnel rat Omad, was.

Cassandra strode up to the aircar, which Justin was now emerging from, while all the mediabots were silently recording her every step. “Welcome to your new headquarters, Mr. Chairman,” she said, “and congratulations on your election. The party membership vote was near unanimous.”

Justin smiled for the camera as he took her hand in both of his. “Only because of your gracious and generous gesture of removing yourself from consideration.”

Cassandra ignored the anger raging within. “It was all for the best of the party, and it’s obvious that you are the best… for the party. Allow me to show you party headquarters and introduce you to your key staff.”

“I would be delighted,” he reciprocated, “but it is not ‘my’ anything. The Liberty Party belongs to its members. They’re just allowing me to look after it for a while.”

Although she tried to hide it, her smile appeared a little strained. “Of course, Mr. Chairman, right this way.”

Once inside and out of the mediabots’ tyranny of observation, the whole party visibly relaxed. Justin wasted no time. “Look, Ms. Doogle, I know that you’re probably about as happy to see me here as a tax collector, but for better or for worse I got the job, and I know that I’m gonna need you if I’m to have any chance of doing it right. I’m hoping I can depend on you.”

Cassandra was surprised by Justin’s candor, and all she could think to answer was one of the boilerplate phrases that so often were used as rational batons to truncheon nonbelievers: “I’ll do whatever it takes to achieve the dream of freedom for humanity.”

“Well, not an unqualified and enthusiastic show of support,” said Justin, frowning, “but, I suppose, the best I could hope for under the circumstances. Let’s get down to business.”

Cassandra looked over to Omad. “Is your friend becoming a member of the Liberty Party?”

“His ‘friend’ is not,” snapped Omad, “but I’m up for a good laugh every now and then.”

“Mr. Chairman,” cautioned Cassandra, choosing not to respond directly to Omad, “your friend should not be here when we’re discussing important issues, especially if he feels the cause of freedom is a laughing matter.”

“Mrs. Doogle, that is precisely why I asked Omad to be here. You see,” he said looking over to his guest, sitting comfortably on a floater, “this mangy excuse for a tunnel rat doesn’t agree with me or the party, and I learned a long time ago that it’s easy to get surrounded by flunkies, fanatics, and yes-men when you have power. That’s when you need the Omads of the world to keep you honest.”

He could see she was about to argue.

“He stays. Case closed. Now,” continued Justin, “I’m going to need all personal, financial, and event records for the past, present, and future. Please arrange office space for me in Oakland, and get me a secretary to arrange meetings with all the department chairs. You will continue to have day-to-day control of personnel and budget. I suppose the title of executive director will work, but call yourself what you want. Furthermore…” And just like that the control of Cassandra Doogle ended and the reign of Justin Cord had begun.

The avatar council had called an emergency session. Sebastian, an invitee, recognized the presence of Iago and Evelyn as well as that of other avatars entwined with substantial and influential humans. This realization in and of itself gave him cause for concern. The Chairman’s avatar was not present, which was not unusual, as it was well known that that man of great importance had not once called upon his avatar since the day of his mother’s death—an event many years removed from the present.

“Attention all,” barked the council leader, wishing to waste no one’s time. “The council has been made aware of an incident about to occur, and we are divided as to the most proper course of action.”