by Peter Tylee
He summoned his courage and strapped his arms to his sides. “Wish me luck.”
“You don’t need it,” Simon assured him. He was just as exhausted as the others and looked as if he was ready to sag into a sofa and drift lazily to sleep. He was starting to forget what his girlfriend Tanya looked like and intended to apply for leave as soon as he got back to the office. He was one hour late for work as it was. Man, the Super’s going to be pissed.He’d spent much the day organising deals and winning shareholder votes. He had several useful contacts owing to his links with the law enforcement industry. A bit of pressure here, a favour called there, and suddenly the flow-on effects ensured that at least one-fifth of the votes would be affirmative. “You’re a shoe in.”
John took a steadying breath. “I hope so.” He’d given the situation a great deal of consideration and realised that his whole life had been leading to this opportunity. He was nursing the noble goal of chairing the world’s first socially and environmentally responsible giga-corporation using the perfect blend of his father’s moral conviction and economic realities that worked in practice. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe the other giga-corporations would stumble over themselves to comply with his new brand of corporate ethics, but he satisfied himself with the thought that it had to start somewhere. And why not with UniForce?
They were standing in a nervous huddle in one wing of the stage. Many of the shareholders had taken the time to attend in person and a sizable crowd had assembled to watch the proceedings. Others had chosen to watch via video feed and vote remotely. Jen was just happy they’d amassed the required percentage to get a binding decision.
“Okay, I’m on,” John said quietly before strolling stiffly onto the stage and standing behind the podium. He was more nervous than he could remember, but nobody noticed. The room hushed to a respectful silence.
Jen watched the flicker of camera flashes from the side and closed within whispering distance of Dan. “So, what’re you doing afterwards?”
Dan grunted. “If it works I’m going to need a drink.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“A new identity.” Dan grinned despite the serious undertones. “What about you?”
“Well, I think I’ll cash in on that drink you owe me.”
“Huh?” Dan’s head spun and he regarded her with awkward suspicion. “What drink?”
His eyes changed focus at the same instant the hairs on his neck stood on end. Over there… in the shadows.It was as if a demon had plunged a fist into Dan’s darkest nightmare and used what it found there to breathe life into pure evil. Everything happened so fast, yet in Dan’s mind an ocean of time was rolling slowly past. Part of him wished his body would move faster, infuriated by the restrictions of flesh and bone. It can’t be.Denial was always his first line of defence against something too horrible to accept. It followed a familiar pattern; he’d experienced it with painful clarity when fate had snatched his wife from him. But the problem with denial was that eventually reality asserted itself, brushing aside the inferior defence and stinging even more for the temporary buffer.
The Raven was already pressing his trigger. A ghastly expression contorted his face and streamers of blood caked the corners of his eyes and the ridge of his nose. It was like looking at a ghoul. He wore a black bandage around his forehead but a glistening sheen of blood was visible through the coarsely woven material. The assassin’s bullet had penetrated his cranium and struck his computer but the solid frame bracing the unyielding circuits had absorbed the impact and spared his life. It’d given him the headache of the millennium and badly damaged several circuits, but he’d survived. He’d then spent ten hours reprogramming around the damage to get back online and become semi-functional again. The impact had devastated large slathers of his specially grafted nervous tissue and his processing capacity was down to 13 percent. But that was plenty to make him deadly.
Dan didn’t need to think. It came naturally to him. It made sense that he should try to protect Jen from the bullet. It was somehow fitting. Somehow right.
He pushed her aside with the same arm that loosed his Colt and bowled Jen to the ground in a tangle of limbs that ultimately spelled doom for his own balance. He then felt the round pierce his chest to the right of his sternum and suffered an acidic burn when it detonated, shredding his flesh. It wasn’t even particularly painful, not as bad as he’d expected anyway. He’d taken steel bullets before, but never an explosive glass round. The detonation wouldn’t cause the most damage. By the time he pulled his own trigger, the nanotoxin payload was already seeping into his bloodstream. He’d fired his second and third rounds by the time he hit the ground and he’d grouped all three rounds neatly on the Raven’s chest. His fourth round entered the Raven’s skull near the bridge of his nose, finished what the other bullets had started.
Dan’s first thought was for Jen’s safety. “Are you okay?”
Jen nodded, too stunned for speech.
Simon knelt by his side and noticed the damage first. “Oh God, Dan, you’re bleeding.”
Jen hadn’t yet noticed and frantically searched Dan for wounds, soon spotting the dark red blotch on his chest. It filled her with helpless panic.
He tried to brush them away when they moved to examine the wound. “Don’t.”
“Oh mate…” Simon tried to keep his voice calm. “We’ve gotta get you to hospital.”
He weakly shook his head. “Don’t bother. It’s nanotoxin.”
Simon flinched, jerking away so as not to contaminate himself. He looked closer and recognised the telltale signs. Dan wasn’t going to die from blood loss.
“What?” Jen mouthed without sound. She couldn’t understand why Simon was pulling back. “We have to get him to a hospital.”
Simon ever so slightly shook his head, unable to break the news with words.
Dan let the Colt slide from his grip and reached for Jen’s panicky hands. “Jen…”
“No.” She couldn’t stop the flow of tears; hearing him murmur her name was too much. It’s not fair… we’re so close.Perhaps that was the most painful thing. She’d started to cherish thoughts of the future again and allowed her hope to flourish. Now it was doomed to the weeds of life, the only things capable of flourishing in the dark. And it left a bitter taste in her mouth to mingle with the salty tears running shamelessly down her cheeks.
“Jen, it’s okay.” Dan was tired. He was fighting to draw breath and the burden of keeping his eyes open was enormous.
What?“How is this okay?” she demanded.
“It’s my time, that’s all.” Dan would’ve said something else if he’d been brave enough. He’d grown fond of Jen against his wishes. If life had spared him enough time, he might’ve eventually admitted that he’d fallen in love with her. Though he’d never tell her that now, it seemed too cruel. “Slime?”
“I’m here man.” Simon drew closer so Dan wouldn’t have to waste energy raising his voice.
“Take care of Hans… you know what to do.” He could feel the transformation starting. His body was rotting on the inside.
“I’ll take care of it.” Simon slapped a boisterous hand to Dan’s shoulder. He wanted to say so much and he opened his mouth to articulate it but the words froze in his throat.
“Thanks.” Dan’s eyes told the story – Simon didn’t have to say anything, his friend already knew.
“Jen… I need you to do something for me.”
“Name it.” She was inwardly pleading for a miracle to whatever God happened to be listening, ready to devote her life to the glorification of His or Her great name if He or She would just spare Dan. She needed a God now even more than she’d needed one in the dank pit of hell beneath Baltimore when she’d been living at the mercy of perverted monsters.
“It’s only going to grow worse… I want you to shoot me.”
She recoiled at the request. No.“What?” She shook her head in shock. “I can’t do that.”
“I’m dead already.�
�� He pointed out. “Nothing can save me.”
But…She desperately wanted that to be a lie. It’s not fair!She opened her mouth to protest but Dan coughed on a lungful of blood before she could speak.
The toxin, although fast acting, maximised the victim’s torture. Some casualties had snapped their own spines during the violent pre-death contortions, documented back when nanotoxins were more prevalent, before the international ban.
She picked up his discarded Colt, the cold metal laughing fiendishly at the injustice of the situation.
“I suppose I should say thank you.” Dan smiled at her through his agony.
Jen’s eyes glistened with a fresh wave of tears. “Why do you suppose that?”
“Because you saved my life.” He found it somewhat ironic that their roles had reversed.
She didn’t understand the depth of his allusion and asked through a torrent of tears, “What? How?” Under the circumstances his words seemed tastelessly incongruous.
“You reminded me who Dan Sutherland was… after I’d done a good job of forgetting.” He spoke the truth. Jen’s passion to change the world had saved Dan from his zombie-like trance. She reminded him what it felt like to have a soul. She reminded him what it meant to care. She’d made the past week of his life more significant than the preceding eleven months.
Jen remembered the conversation they’d had in the car and played her part through tear-blurred vision. “Well if you feel grateful then by all means, thank away.”
Dan smiled at her for the last time. “Thank you.”
She fired twice, mercifully ending his pain and sending herself into a spinning vortex of grief. It consumed her, tearing at the fabric of her sanity. She couldn’t fathom how life could be so bitterly cruel. She’d given her heart to a bounty hunter and the wrenching pain in her chest told her that her heart had died with him.
Perversely, the shareholder meeting didn’t miss a beat. The hiss of metal and zing of bullets from silenced firearms wasn’t loud enough to carry to the enthralled attendees.
They voted overwhelmingly in favour of their new CEO.
*
Tuesday, September 28, 2066
World Economic Forum
14:30Washington DC, USA
John Cameron entered the forum for the first time, believing himself prepared for his initiation into a world of power and corruption. It wasn’t hard to find his seat; an aide had briefed him thoroughly prior to arrival. The information kit he’d received had included a neat holographic representation of the forum chamber.
Spiffy.He used a word from his generation to describe the décor. It was certainly impressive; they’d done a good job of ensuring their own comfort. I just wonder about everyone else’s comfort.A twinge in the back of his mind pointed out he was starting to think like Jen. But maybe that’s natural. It was an intriguing thought. Where was humanity heading? Straight to the depths of hell, and they were in an awful hurry to get there. It felt right that he should object to practices that were accelerating the downward spiral. Maybe we really are ready for a change.But the calibre of the human spirit in the chamber begged to differ.
A chairman of considerable girth waddled onto the platform to launch the day’s proceedings. There was a good turnout, though John had no previous experience with which to compare it. Everybody was interested in summing up a new member, to decide whether he was worthy of potential deals. So they all wanted to judge him. Although they looked conspicuously absorbed in their own affairs, in truth they were concentrating firmly on John.
“I call the session to order.” The chairman had the rattle of thick catarrh in his throat. “First order of the day, we have a new member. John Cameron, would you care to take the podium?”
John stood, acknowledging the chairman’s request. It was a well-known fact that John was the son of Mike Cameron, the infamous revolutionary – or attemptedrevolutionary. Yet he was also the CEO of UniForce and had the right to attend WEF meetings.
He felt all eyes upon him when he trekked across the platform and assumed a comfortable stance behind the podium. “Good afternoon.” He smiled into the silence. “I wanted to take this opportunity get two things out of the way. Firstly, I want to say how honoured” – uh-huh – “I feel to be here today.” He adjusted his stance. “And secondly, I want to raise an urgent matter to your attention.” He held up his hands to stave off potential objections even though there was none. “I realise it goes against protocol but it won’t put us behind schedule. We have 15 minutes for my introduction to be used, I believe, however I wish.”
The silence was palpable.
Nobody even feigned reaching for his or her objection button.
John motioned to someone at the rear of the chamber and a tall, wafery man clambered down the steps to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen…” John had their attention dancing in the palm of his hand. “Hans van de Berg shall be giving a short presentation about SuperFlex.”
*
Fifteen words into the presentation, Nathan Bradford drew his own conclusions and much of the tension drained from his body. So, now it happens.It was out of his control and for that, he was thankful.
The assembly would finally hear the truth about the miracle material SuperFlex, the kernel of portal travel.
Epilogue
At the heart of this convergence of anticorporate activism and research is the recognition that corporations are much more than the purveyors of the products we all want; they are also the most powerful political forces of our time.
Naomi Klein – “No Logo”, 1999
Monday, October4, 2066
SuperFlex Manufacturing Plant
09:00Detroit, USA
“Hey man, what’s happening?”
“Haven’t you heard?”
“No, what?”
Jake disbelievingly shook his head. “I dunno man, word is we’re shutting down.”
It was unfathomable. How could the biggest corporate giant in the history of the human race cease manufacturing their prime product? “What’re you talkin’ about?”
“Apparently this shit’s toxic or something.”
“So?” Angus didn’t care if it was toxic; he was willing to take his chances. He had a family to think about. He neededthis job; it was his lifeline. “Everything’s toxic, why do wehave to shut down?”
Jake shrugged and lit a cigarette, spitting in the face of company policy. “Don’t shoot the messenger, it’s just what I heard, that’s all.”
Angus doubted it was true. It’s probably just some suck-arse rumour started by the boys on vat one.The worst case he could comprehend was the company shutting down the local plants and moving offshore where labour was cheaper. But even that would spell doom for his loan repayments.
For the first time in over three decades, every PortaNet manufacturing plant stood still and the corporation’s army-like workforce hung lazily about with nothing to do. Based on the weight of the evidence presented before the World Economic Forum, members had voted unanimously to force PortaNet’s plants offline – it was, after all, in the world’s economic interest. No further portal manufacturing was permissible until PortaNet discovered a responsible method of folding space. The WEF had also charged PortaNet with the task of finding a long-term solution for cleaning up the mess they’d already scattered over the galaxy – if a solution existed.
*
Friday, November 5, 2066
18:44Carnarvon, Western Australia
Jen loved being able to talk without having to guard her words. “So you found another one?”
Samantha’s voice came loud, clear and confident over the mobile. “Yep, his name’s Shane Roberts.” She giggled. “I think you’re going to likehim Jen.”
Jen caught the inference but chose to ignore it. “Okay, so that’s, what… seven now?”
“Yep,” Samantha said triumphantly. “We’re really growing.”
They were referring to the increasing number of people willing to join their v
oice for a fairer, more responsible, and more accountablecorporate world. Once UniForce had ceased tracking activist-related conversations, Samantha and Jen had reached out electronically – without fear of reprisals – and made positive contact with a number of other resistance cells. They hadn’t truly been alone. They’d just felt alone.
“When’re you coming back?”
“An hour or two,” Jen replied. “There’s something I have to do here first.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
“Bye.” Jen hung up and flipped her mobile back into her pocket. She was wearing her favourite pair of jeans, her most comfortable boots, and a new flannelette shirt that would’ve looked at home on a construction site.
She was sitting under the big tree on her land. It was the first thing she’d done with the Raven’s money: purchased her dream plot from Realty King and torn down the hideous billboard. The second thing she’d done was decide on the plans for her house and contact a local builder. She was using a small, locally based contractor that worked out of Carnarvon instead of a major corporate player. Sure, it would probably take longer to build and be a fraction more expensive, but it was the principle that counted. Jen knew she’d feel more comfortable with the finished product if a local crew built it.
And then there was her yacht. She’d commissioned the local construction yard to begin building a 17-metre cruising catamaran. They wouldn’t finish it for over a year, but that was okay with Jen who was going to be busy in the interim anyway. She had demonstrations to organise and messages to help the public understand.
The sun was setting and the warmth was slowly draining from the late spring air. Jen gazed out over the ocean and watched the war of colours, each hue battling for supremacy over the ripples on the surface. It was spectacular.
I wish you could’ve been here to see this Dan.It still stung when she thought about him. It knotted her heart with a pang of regret. She wrapped her arms around herself to shelter from the renewed onset of grief.