The Ruling Impulses

by Francesco Portone

  Charlie bit his lip.

  Chapter V

  The city buzz at dusk had always fascinated William. He found that subtle mixture of voices, noises, acoustic signals very soothing. So distant, yet so near. It kept him company. He encouraged him to meditate on the fact that he was not alone in the world, he was part of something bigger. A piece in a huge mosaic. Whenever he could, he delighted in just walking, aimlessly, only for the sake of entering that womb made of buildings, trees, lights of every color, wide streets and alleys. Bursting with shapeless life, like a single, unique, amorphous living creature.

  East Eden's fabric had quite changed over the years. The succession of social reforms, increasingly restrictive, had over time brought to a change in the city's skyline, according to the enlightened design of the new political class. Numbered District was the most striking example. Just a few things were preserved from the inexorable course of time. “Jim's Stuff” was one of those. The obstinacy of Juan Nuñez - registered under the name of James Maddock, to conceal his Caribbean origins - to carry on his artisanal business, regardless of the succession of the seasons, was a real rarity for those times. The store had remained more or less the same as the years when Charlie and William used to hang around with a certain regularity. And Jim kept on proudly displaying obsolete items, maybe hated by most, yet extremely suggestive for every technology enthusiast.

  Juan had abandoned the Holy Republic of Silva - once known as Cuba - following the great catastrophe of 2127. In July that year, a frightening tsunami decimated about a third of the population, who over the years had moved to the coastal zone, due to the enormous development of tourism. Silva was at the forefront in the hospitality industry, tourists could find every kind of attraction and comfort required, from old-fashioned to most up to date and edgier entertainment. The 23-year-old Juan Nuñez, despite his young age, was already an experienced PR manager, as well as a charming entertainer, and worked for one of the largest hotel in the country, the Strickland. Good payoffs and good future prospects, even a fun job, whenever the clients were pretty young ladies. The natural disaster changed everything. It swept away his whole family and closest friends. Most of the buildings sustained severe damages. Juan survived thanks to a chance event, because in that moment he was below the street level. He was entertaining an old lady in the spa of the hotel. The woman, still very lively and a little pushy, pretended to be a little clumsy to induce Juan to stay with her and make small talk. That witty expedient ended up saving his life. The huge mass of water and the violent earthquakes triggered all the safety devices, sealing the room from the inside. Fortunately, the facility was equipped with survival systems that were activated in case of danger, so Juan and Mrs. De Ville stayed safe, while outside it was like hell on earth.

  Jim was now a potbellied man, not really an old man, but he certainly looked older than his actual age. He had lost the charm of youth. He had settled into a quiet life, work and home. The rare moments of feverish excitement were reserved for special visitors like William and Charlie, who sometimes popped over.

  He was inflexible, with solid values. They told him lots of times to get lost and retire, but he was a stubborn person. His shop was like it used to be and so it had to stay. According to the city government, it ruined the aesthetic of the town, because it symbolized the old times. Indulging in the past and not looking to the future, to progress, was comparable to an insubordination. His unblemished record, however, allowed him to get by without any great difficulties.

  In front of Jim's shop there was a kiosk that sold a bit of everything, sandwiches, sausages, salads, wine, various drinks, yet none of that looked tempting. Nevertheless, that little place became a usual meeting place for WD27 and DEX43, also because admiring Jim's exhibition always made them hungry.

  William arrived on time. He took a seat and ordered beer and snacks. No sign of Charlie. Same old routine, William muttered. He thought he was fiddling with some new equipment and had lost track of time, but got a blunt denial. He saw Charlie come out of the corner store, “Marble Locks”, and follow a regular pace. William stared straight at him because he thought he noticed something unfamiliar. Charlie was wearing sunglasses, a peaked cap probably red or burgundy and a gray raincoat. William wondered what the hell he had in mind and why he dressed that way. He took another sip of beer, while Charlie stopped by a fruit shop, moving quite randomly. William shook his head: let's hope he doesn't make a mess. After having touched a couple of apples and sneaked some Maqui berries, with no intention of buying any, Charlie went on, approaching the kiosk. William was stuffing a cheese tart into his mouth but he stopped as soon as Charlie walked past him without even looking at him. His friend looked around, then took the communicator out of the raincoat pocket and started talking to someone. He was surely pretending, William knew him well.

  «What the...?», William exclaimed, trying to figure out where his friend was going with that. He ended up getting infected by Charlie's paranoia, in fact he looked up and down the street to detect some potential source of danger he might have missed in the first place. Nothing at all, or so it seemed.

  Charlie then came back and sat down at the table next to William's. He ordered a glass of wine and a chicken salad. Wine and salad? William was getting more and more curious. And nervous. If it hadn't been serious business, he'd have slapped him in the head.

  «Charlie?!», William dared speak to him.

  «Shhhh!», his friend whispered. «Hold on!»

  So William turned his back and took another sip of beer. He almost gagged on it.

  «I'm trying to saturate the area with electronic countermeasures», Charlie said without looking at him. «I'll tell you when.»

  William stood still. Maybe Charlie was overcautious, yet he might have a point. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him press buttons with one hand, while he pretended to stir the salad with the other.

  «Okay, here we go», Charlie alerted him, still not turning around. «Bill, you can talk now, but keep staring at the plate. Caution is never enough.»

  «Do you think it's really necessary?»

  «They have eyes and ears everywhere. I don't even trust the waiter, though we already know him.»

  William put the beer bottle back to his mouth but that time he pretended to drink. He chose to indulge Charlie in that sort of role playing game. He then began his story by reminding Charlie of the troubles he had at work with Minneman, the leak, the stubbornness shown by Minneman in wanting to accuse him even though it had no evidence. He told him about his suspicions that Militia colluded with the pharmaceutical company, although he did not understand the reason for such aggression towards him. It's one thing to accuse his employer, quite another to identify him as the only responsible for what happened.

  Charlie nodded discreetly. He was already aware of the bulk of the story and until then he had not found anything particularly unusual to point out. So he asked about cockroaches and William clarified all the details, the summons, the interrogation. He expressed his doubts to Charlie about the haste shown in wanting to slam him in, as if they wanted to take themselves off the hook.

  «Well? Don't you say anything?», William asked.

  Charlie waited a little before answering.

  «Bill, I'm so sorry. We always make fun of each other, but this time it must have been tough.»

  He finally swallowed the bite he had been nervously chewing for several minutes, then took a sip of wine.

  «While you were talking, I was thinking. To be honest, I don't see anything unusual. Unusual taking into account their usual behavior, I mean. From personal experience, I tell you that I've seen those people do worse. Simply put, maybe you got a little obsessed with this story and the stress did the rest. Have you ever thought about it?»

  «Great! I call a friend for help and I find myself arguing with a shrink. You're not helping, Charlie.»

  «What do you want me to do? Should I indulge you? I'm trying to find the catch, but I don't see an
y at the moment.»

  Charlie settled back in his chair, facing away from his friend.

  «Bill, you may have unintentionally slighted someone at Minneman's, maybe a big shot, and as soon as something came up, he has seen fit to dump all that on you. You can't rule out.»

  William shook his head slightly.

  «I don't know. I do not rule out anything anymore. I would gladly clarify the issue if they let me, but I will never apologize for something I did not commit.»

  «Calm down, I didn't suggest such a thing. Yet having a discussion with them might help. Just my two cents.»

  Charlie signaled to the waiter for the check.

  «Let's do it this way, Bill. I'll do some digging on my own, with due discretion. Let's forget about the cockroaches for now, I doubt they started it. When we get more information, then we'll consider whether to go talk to them.»

  He stopped because, at that very moment, a couple of militiamen passed by. He greeted them with a broad smile to reassure them that everything was just fine.

  «What did I just tell you? Caution.»

  He got up, walked over to William and put his hand on his shoulder.

  «We still have time, Bill, right? I doubt we'll hear from Militia so soon. We have time to organize our counter-offensive. I'll be in touch.»

  Charlie was about to leave, but William grabbed his wrist.

  «Charlie, how long has it been since we've seen each other?»

  «Why? Dunno... a couple of months?»

  «Shit, you've become disgustingly wise, cautious and precise at the same time. I don't know you anymore. You must be one of those seed pods from that old movie.»

  Charlie laughed.

  «See ya Billy.»

  Chapter VI

  No matter how hard she tried, Kate Ramos could not find a way to send that electronic message. Something was wrong, but she did not know what. The attached documents were not that large , yet the computer refused to complete the operation. Time was running out, Malcolm Dietrich would have her shot if he did not have his report in time. Being in charge of the Secretariat and Statistics Office gave her honors but also burdens, she was well aware of that. All the most important documents passed through her hands and it was up to her to review them, verify that everything was in order and correct them if necessary. A difficult yet fulfilling task. She was really proud of it. There had been a time when she had aspired to become a big shot in the company. Her tender friendship with Jacqueline Moritz - descendant of the Madison family, as well as majority shareholder and professional time-waster - had led her to think that she could propose herself for more important positions and, why not, aspire to become CEO. Jacqueline was impressed by her rather unfortunate family history, by Kate having to look after her ailing mother, the suffering until, unexpectedly, she was employed by Leigh Madison Enterprise. Jacqueline, accustomed to the comforts and having no fear of the future, had to eat humble pie when she met Kate. To look out on a world that until then she had only minimally approached, passing from time to time and in a hurry to some suburban area aboard her representation vehicle. A privilege for the few, that of private cars.

  On the day of the job interview, Kate Ramos showed up with a dress borrowed from her mother. The dress probably was ten years old. Maybe more. The pool of candidates and the employees of Leigh Madison x-rayed her and, in a few moments, branded her as “not suitable”. They considered her an amateur who did not know the basic rules of job interviews: to make a wonderful first impression, showing up with the fanciest outfit and the nicest haircut. The white tailleur Kate wore, sprinkled with what looked like daisies, with a white belt at the waist, perhaps was fashionable in the Republic days, but a little less that season. Regardless of the derisive glances of others, Kate gave smiles left and right. Within ten minutes pretty much everyone thought she was nice and tried to be polite with her. However, the other candidates considered her harmless and did not feel competitive with her, meanwhile the Leigh Madison's employees did not even see her as a potential colleague. Knowing the examiner, Judy Offenbach, and her bad reputation, she would flunk her as soon as she pronounced the first syllable. A little chat and a pat on the shoulder, therefore, would not do any harm. It would be really cruel to bully her.

  That day, however, there was an unexpected variable. Jacqueline Moritz, who devoted exclusively to leisure activities whenever she could, reluctantly found herself to supervise those interview sessions. Her private masseuse, Alejandra Jimenez, had canceled at the last minute due to severe abdominal cramps, so Jacqueline found herself with a couple of hours to kill. And what better way to demonstrate her commitment to the company than attending selections for future recruitment?

  The roles to be filled were the administrative assistant and accounting officer, that's because even a think tank company needed those who organized the work, those who procured contracts, those who were responsible for the financial checks, to ensure that everything could run smoothly. All the candidates had excellent references, formally impeccable, correct posture, measured tone of voice, courtesy smiles. They all seemed to come from the same school or from the same training course. Jacqueline yawned every couple of minutes, beginning to regret her choice. It was Kate Ramos' turn and Judy Offenbach - while maintaining a certain level of professionalism which was essential to carry out her task properly – could not hide her disappointment.

  Kate seemed very spontaneous and at ease, perhaps even more at ease than those on the other side of the desk. She succeeded in enlightening the parterre of examiners with frankness and good feelings. After all, she had faced many other challenges in the course of her life and participating in a selection was not the toughest one.

  Mrs. Offenbach made formal introductions and asked the usual questions, focusing very little on Kate's curriculum, which honestly lacked relevant experiences. Her aim was to dismiss her as soon as possible and move on to subjects more interesting and, in her opinion, worthy of attention. Judy Offenbach had not reckoned, however, with Jacqueline “Loose Cannon” Moritz. There was something about Kate that woke Jacqueline from hibernation: her words, the fact that she turned to them almost like they were friends, skipping pleasantries; her engaging and very polite cheerfulness, the candor that came out of every pore; the respect she had shown for the other candidates, neither putting herself above them, nor flaunting a supposed superiority. Kate exhibited tranquility and enthusiasm. Observing her, Jacqueline began to reflect on her life, on the boredom that often pervaded it, on the colorless days gone by, on the fact that very little things inspired or stimulated her. In a few minutes Kate was able to convey to her an idea of herself she believed was no longer possible to perceive, as it was drowned by too many vices and by the absence of real challenges. In a nutshell, Kate was so damn alive and she wanted to feel like that too. That's why, when Judy Offenbach held out her hand to dismiss her, Jacqueline surprised her, by saying: «Just a second, Judy, no need to hurry», which left everyone stunned.

  The bond between Kate and Jacqueline strengthened over time and they soon began dating regularly, although Kate was not fully convinced of how things were progressing. Obviously she owed her a lot of gratitude, for the esteem she had immediately shown to her and for the chance she had granted her, yet feelings were something really different. Kate liked Jacqueline, she found her charming, always well-groomed, well-dressed, maybe a little cold, but that made her even more desirable. Kate would have looked like her, that's for sure, but having a relationship with her was too big a step. She soon realized that Jacqueline expected much more than an innocent friendship. She often went to pick her up in the morning in her private car with a driver, to accompany her to work. She offered her South American champagne, the most fashionable, certainly not that synthetic rubbish sold in department stores. More than three hundred credits a bottle. She gave her so much attention that she embarrassed her. Once Jacqueline had even kissed her. Kate had not backed down, but had blushed with surprise. She knew that sooner or
later it would happen, so she slowly tried to loosen the threads that held them together. Sometimes she refused her calls and got off the grid. In other cases she rejected her gifts, pretending to be too proud to accept all those privileges. It was also for that reason that she turned down the promotion to strategic manager, though it would be a nice leap forward from the Secretariat Office, where meanwhile she had ended up working. «I want to stand on my own two feet, Jacquie», she told her employer. Jacqueline Moritz at first considered her ungrateful, she who had always been accustomed to getting what she wanted and receiving obsequiousness and genuflections; then remembered that, when it came to Kate, things worked differently, that she would get nothing by putting pressure on her. She had fallen in love with her for that, too.

  It had been many years since those turbulent days and Kate had a few more sizes and a few less smiles. Hanging out with Jacqueline had partly encouraged her to take more care of her look, yet fashion sense was still her weak point. Now the two of them seldom saw each other, they met at some company meeting and just had a chitchat, deliberately putting their personal feelings aside. Jacqueline had a stable relationship with Margie Henriksson, a wedding planner known on the day of her brother Roland's wedding with a former stripper, who he had met at a stag party. Kate was still single, she had come to the point of believing she would never have a partner, of any sex. The self-denial with which she took care for her mother was touching, but at the same time it had led her to withdraw, to become a little more rigid and surly. She now saved her friendliness just to relate with her colleagues at the workplace.

  Affability that melted like snow in the sun every time Malcolm Dietrich pressed her to get his regular reports. In those circumstances she used to morph into a mythological figure half harpy and half Cerberus, ready to scratch and bite anyone who broke her concentration.