The Ruling Impulses
Page 2
«This affects all of us, in any case. Not just you, Deveux. I wanted you to know that.»
«Yes, sir. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, sir.»
William felt the need to rush to hug Hutchinson and struggled to tame that feeling. It would be very embarrassing for both of them, to say the least. So he took a deep breath, turned and managed to leave chief's office with his dignity still intact.
Minneman Company was a pharmaceutical company mostly focused on experimental medical work and clinical trials. It mainly worked on commission and was responsible for testing new products and new therapies. It operated in the utmost secrecy and with an aura of mystery that gave rise to doubts about the lawfulness and riskiness of the procedures and drugs developed. Minneman's performances were among the most sought after and best remunerated. It guaranteed relatively fast response times and reliable results, but, above all, absolute privacy.
Remarkable turnovers, in that industry, pushed companies to protect their data and research with increasingly sophisticated technologies, to counter the widespread practice of industrial espionage.
To achieve that goal, Minneman chose to hire Leigh Madison Enterprise, a company which offered cutting edge security system solutions. It was one of the most important orders ever received, which saw William Deveux leading the task force. Six weeks of hard work to set up bullet-proof protections, with some occasional break to get a bite. William and his teammates were responsible for preparing sensitive and confidential data backup systems, equipped with advanced cryptography, taking care of the procedure in all its parts, from simply assembling the equipment to certifying system stability. As usual, armors were installed at the end of the process to discourage any breach attempt.
So much sophisticated technology certainly implied client's involvement to define the most appropriate data protection strategy. Each package had to be adjusted according to the customer's characteristics to guarantee efficiency and privacy protection. The clients, however, were unwilling to reveal confidential information, even to those who had to keep it safe. Worrying levels of paranoia were reached in an economic system in which espionage was carried out without restraint, even by using undercover personnel to spy the competitors.
Yet despite the significant precautions taken, Minneman sustained a dangerous data leak. Someone stole information about a sensational discovery concerning organ cloning, or so people said, as the pharmaceutical company refused to go into details, in order to uphold its brand image. Leigh Madison Enterprise ended up in the eye of the storm, charged with unprofessionalism and even with sabotage. William Deveux, as he was the task force leader, was identified as the main architect of the plot and was the only one to be formally charged. Leigh Madison Enterprise, on the other hand, was only held responsible for strict liability.
William knew he was right. He played fair and would bet on his teammates' honesty too. He thought about it for weeks afterwards, without coming up with any reasonable explanation other than a possible internal corruption. A long and winding road, however, without any evidence that could support that argument.
In a moment of heightened vulnerability and anger, William had also come to the point of theorizing that it was all a conspiracy against him. Then, after a little rest and some fun, he looked back at things in a clearer and more rational way.
Passed unscathed that face-to-face conversation with Hutchinson, William spent peacefully his afternoon in the office, doing routine work. Filing and cataloging documents, organizing and scheduling work for the following days, remotely monitoring workstations. William did not usually like it very much, but it allowed him to slow down a bit sometimes, and relax. He often shared the room with James Dufour. James was the company's jester. He could be theatrical and hilarious even in the toughest situations. People appreciated his will to never give up, despite hard times. Sometimes he went too far, however he was a good worker, so the colleagues saw him as kind of a mascot, a pleasant folk attraction.
«Come on, shoot!», Dufour said, breaking an unusual silence, which lasted for over an hour.
«What?»
«You know, you left earlier yesterday. You owe me the truth.»
«I say again: what?», William replied, with a jaded smile.
«Don't play dumb, dude. You surely met some chick.»
«Nah.»
«So you didn't score, too bad.»
«But I did not even try to score!»
William rolled his eyes and sighed.
«Well, if you don't want to talk about it, I respect your choice. You surely had a little thought about it. About scoring big-time, I mean.»
William kept silence.
«Anyway, was she sexy?»
«Read my lips: I-have-not-met-any-woman.»
James took off the blue chunky frames he usually wore and cleaned them.
«I bet it's that redhead you'd been dating.»
«Oh, my God, James. She has nothing to do with it, and I prefer not to talk about it.»
«I know, I touched a nerve. The wound's still open. A private parts treatment's urgently needed. The sooner the better. Today would be great. Take the rest of the day off and slip into the city's worst brothel. You will definitely feel lighter. Your wallet too, but that's another story...»
William mimed a gunshot. James Dufour pretended to collapse onto the ground and dragged the communicator, some documents and cables. A call came in the meantime and James, unperturbed, answered from down under the table. The same old James, William affectionately thought.
Another day's work was coming to an end and William Deveux was still stuck in yet another heated argument with a Caribbean Inc.'s manager. Meanwhile he got a text message. Tomorrow evening at 20.00 Thorwald Pub. He read it while leaving the building and unconsciously assumed a smug look.
The sun was setting and the shadows of the Buildings draw a shapeless geometric figure. William lived in the third complex, which included the buildings numbered from 13 to 18. Numbered District constituted a large urban area made by three groups of six buildings each, placed in the shape of an equilateral triangle. A total of about two thousand people lived there. The buildings were all arranged to face the central square. The design recalled the symbolism used for the banner that waved outside the seat of the Government. At the center of each square, equidistant from the Buildings, a marble sculpture was meant to represent the Edict, the set of principles picked by College of Guilds to regulate common decency. The most important of them was “The public good is superior to the private one”. To better imprint them in the citizens' conscience, they had been engraved in gold. It was quite a rough piece of work. It stood out in the middle of some tall trees and intended to warn people they would have to act always prioritizing the greater good. Even restrictions to liberty had to be willingly accepted as they were aimed at defending the public interest - “Every good citizen must be willing to sacrifice for the public good”. Scarlet Militia, which was responsible for ensuring compliance with those commandments, had long distorted their content and had imposed searches, committed abuses and caused harassments, with the central government's consent.
William opted to leave the social carrier earlier and walk the last stretch of road. Days were shorter, yet walking was enjoyable. He noticed some militiamen chatting, others arguing energetically. Nothing good will com e out of it, he thought, so he preferred to go straight home, taking good care not to meet their eyes.
Further on, a little man was very busy scraping poop left by a flock of pigeons on the beloved monument. The gentleman, a medium height and rather slender subject, aroused a certain tenderness in trying to polish some parts clearly out of his reach. Some stranger, both bold and reckless, smeared the second principle and turned it into “Every good citizen must be willing to sacrifice for the audience”. William could not help but imagine a cabaret actor on a stage, who tried everything to please the audience, even causing himself physical pain. He covered his mouth with his left hand to prevent pr
ying eyes from seeing him giggle.
He met Mrs. Rottinger along the way. She was a manager's widow, his husband had worked for a company which ran the bauxite quarry located north-west of the city. The old lady was just standing on the sidewalk, angry and in distress. She was busy tinkering with her prosthetics and looked tired and mope. Mrs. Rottinger suffered from a degenerative disease that affected her musculoskeletal system, especially her lower limbs, making it difficult to walk. Whenever he could, William used to help her doing some daily errands.
«Hello, ma'am, are you all right?», he greeted her, trying to be polite.
«Son, it all sucks. Enough said», Mrs. Rottinger complained, looking at her prosthetics.
«Do they still bother you?»
«The damn batteries. They last less and less. And they cost me an arm and a leg. Shopkeepers and Government are partners in crime, I tell you!»
William smiled and tried to cheer her up.
«Let me take a look, madam.»
He was no expert, however, a little kindness would do no harm.
«They look intact. I think it's the batteries, indeed», William added softly.
«These darn things! Whenever they're out of power, I'm in trouble. Healthcare does not provide enough for maintenance. Such things did not usually happen when he was in charge.»
Mrs. Rottinger raised her right forefinger and started to wink so that William understood. The man she was talking about was former President Gerald Owen, a righteous and generous person, by all accounts.
The old generation proudly passed on the tale about how well things worked during the days of North American Republic. The state sought to satisfy every people's need, in all sectors: health care, education, employment, security. President Owen had had a childhood of hardships and poverty and, as soon as he got into politics, he wanted his people not to lack anything. No one had to starve or be excluded from society. Support for the sick, the elderly and the poorest had to be ensured twenty-four hours a day. Furthermore, the republic recognized tolerance and civil liberties and everyone had the right to a fair and equitable trial.
In the presidential term's final phase, however, things got into a downward spiral. Government debt and tax burden rose enormously and there was a frightening spread of social unrest and petty crime. The regulatory framework, which was later judged as an ineffective deterrent, could not cope.
Gerald Owen's dream crumbled to the ground in just a few months, under the blows of growing disorder, assaults, thefts, repeated protests by some social classes that claimed they had been cheated. Some troublemakers among the police, supported by Government's members who were hostile towards President Owen's too lenient policy, took over on a summer night, removing Owen. He was hastily accused of embezzlement and cheating on the state. Citizens were not given the right to verify those allegations, since it all happened very rapidly. Within a couple of months the New City Militia was founded - later renamed Scarlet Militia to honor the color of the keffiyeh worn by the first insurgents – and it was charged with police tasks, including public order. Once the riots had subsided and peace had been restored, the Guilds were established, each of them with exclusive jurisdiction in its area. The coordinating body, College of Guilds, had the task of controlling Guilds' work and could legislate and take measures, which gave it enormous power, but only on paper. In fact, at least one Militia member was placed at all levels of the chain of command, so the armed guards almost had total control. Scarlet Militia had full autonomy in decision-making, particularly in prosecuting criminal offences. To safeguard citizens' security and public order, Scarlet Militia could also temporarily derogate from laws enacted by College of Guilds. In theory, the College had the power of veto over such decisions; basically, it never exercised it, so Militia played too often the judge and jury.
Gerald Owen died in prison one year after the coup, officially for a cardiac arrest, but there were rumors of murder. Although he was a recluse, the former president was still a symbol for many, a hindrance to the new government, which was trying to strengthen its power and leadership. In the days following that mournful event, former Lieutenant Samuel Rea, a prominent Militia member, made a contemptuous reference to Owen's passing, during a speech. In its pivotal point, the text confirmed what people feared about the former leader's death and was a warning for previous government's nostalgics. “An era of laxity, of ineptitude, of repudiation of a rigorous morality, has finally been swept away. Hypocritical tolerance will give way to true justice, made of genuine and heartfelt respect for rules. Considerable sacrifices await us, but we will know how to adequately cope with them, with dedication and mutual cooperation, for the common good”. New regime's supporters roared and applauded to mask the audience's grumbling. Many people already bitterly regretted the fall of Owen's Government, others felt almost relieved to see all that ostentatious firmness and determination.
William was very young, at the time, and only had a vague memory of it. His knowledge was limited to what he had learned during his school days and to gossip, therefore he could only nod and smile to Mrs. Rottinger, trying to encourage her.
«We have to stick together, madam. Things will get better, you'll see.»
It sounded like a conviction but it was just a wish. In any case, he managed to put a smile on the old lady's face.
«I'll expect you for dinner one of these evenings, okay? No excuses.»
William burst out laughing.
«How could I refuse such a kind invitation?»
Mrs. Rottinger leaned on William's arm and they slowly walked together towards Building 16.
Despite migraines, it was a quiet evening. William spent many hours watching a comedian's old movies, the one that, in all his productions, used to do the same gag of pants suddenly falling and him running away while holding his underpants. How do you make me laugh all the times? After the third movie his eyelids got terribly heavy and Billy Jay Martin's funny adventures were not enough to keep him awake. He glanced fleetingly at the usual lighted window, then closed his eyes whispering “I love you Daddy” and a tear streaked his face.
Ironically, Dominic Deveux, a public transport employee, lost his life in a car accident, run over by an out-of-control car. At the time, William was 27 and had just joined Leigh Madison Enterprise. His mother, Angela, had died of an incurable disease when he was still a child, so William and his father grew together side by side. The typical father-son relationship turned, in their case, into a deep friendship. It was a devastating blow and the resulting pain and stress exacerbated the symptoms of his illness, yet he decided not to give up to honor the memory of his dear friend.
Caribbean Inc. headquarters was located slightly north of Leigh Madison Enterprise's one. The social carrier route was a bit different, not travel time: 27 minutes. The building was a melting pot of glasses and enamels; it shone to the point of blinding passersby in the daytime, it seemed lit up for a party when it was dark. Although he had become a regular visitor, William was forced to put up with the same tedious identification procedure day in day out. They probably know me inside out by now, why don't they give it a rest?, he once commented to himself.
«Your name?»
«Deveux, William.»
«Where do you come from?»
«Milton Avenue, Numbered District.»
«What are you here for?»
William snorted and held back the answer.
«What are YOU here FOR?», the security guard emphatically repeated.
«You should know me by heart. I've been coming here for two weeks, almost-every-day», he replied, clearly annoyed.
«Mr. Deveux, you must comply with the procedures and answer. Please!»
The employee set an authoritative tone and, even though he knew he would probably never use it, he put his hand close to his service weapon. William clenched his fists. The blood was burning and he was ready to lash out at the unfortunate security officer, but luckily managed to control himself and reply respectfully.
«I'm from Leigh Madison Enterprise, I'm implementing improvements to the security systems.»
«Who's your contact person?»
«Maximilian Rauch.»
«Mr. Maximilian Rauch will see you in his office», the clerk hastened to point out.
William knew exactly where to go and how to locate Rauch's office and found that charade as boring as hell. Most of his work was already done, all that was left was just to set up a remote control to ensure that all computer systems and database were well protected and no breaching would occur.
Caribbean Inc. was a big financial company specialized in managing large assets. It was said to be experienced in concealing fortunes and properties, so that the revenue service would lose track of them. That kind of talent made it very appealing not only to the most wealthy and influential citizens, but also to those interested in getting their hands on confidential and extremely valuable information. William and Leigh Madison Enterprise were therefore well aware of the sensitive nature of that job. Any mistake would have a devastating economic and political impact. That morning, however, William found it very difficult to focus, all caught up in thinking about that unexpected evening rendezvous. It was not nine o'clock yet and he was already keeping an eye on the watch, as he wandered through the tunnels of that anthill called Caribbean Inc. Everyone was moving fast and mostly not caring about his presence. He got close to Rauch's office and saw him busy indoctrinating some suits, wildly gesturing. Rauch noticed him, yet he did not stop and continued to discuss eloquently. William then slowed down a bit to give him the chance to finish within a reasonable time. Pointless concern, as Rauch, probably afraid of being heard, got back inside his office and the others did the conga line and followed him. All William was left to do was sitting comfortably and wait. He thought it was a great time to light a cigarette. Too bad he didn't smoke. Not anymore. Another look at the watch: still early. Too early to keep thinking about it. He snorted. Every now and then someone passed by and carelessly asked him who he was and who or what he was waiting for. Just a courtesy, they were not really interested, as everyone was busy doing his things. It was clear that they were struggling to get used to his presence, even after so many days.