“Which just means coercive force,” said Rick.
“Yes. And?”
“Um, so, call me naive if you want, but isn’t responding to resistance that way too expensive and unPRiendly to be part of a working business model?”
“Shaké, don’t take what I said personally: all of us crashdead are naive in the beginning. Yes, interfering bodily with human beings is always a violation of credilaw. But unlike Free Citizens, since bankdead have no BodyBank, they cannot receive compensation for credicrimes committed against them, so only the 50 percent cut GATA takes has to be paid, which means half off all fines. Deployment of CareBots reduces this amount further as their partial autonomy deflects full culpability and cuts base action fees through the automation of violence. When human freekeepers are required in troublesome cases, labor costs are reduced with GATA-issued CrowdCare Licenses, which give the Charity Brigade rebates on credicrimes that supposedly ‘protect bankdead from each other’ and ‘keep the freedom.’ In all cases, non-lethal and semi-lethal weapons such as tear dust are preferred over deadly force that appears visibly harmful so as to avoid unflattering media exposure that might interfere with donations.
“The venture charity–run reporting outfits that provide most available coverage portray the bankdead as a savage mob mindlessly rioting against the freekeepers and drones who strive tirelessly to defend their Freedom. The more violent the bankdead resistance becomes, the easier it is to make them look bad and justify the use of force. The more peaceful it is, the less impact it has. So whether violent or peaceful, crowd and media care ensures that civil disobedience of all kinds is completely ineffectual without breaking the bank, as it were.
“I knew all this already when the man came to me with his offer. The right balance of generosity and ferocity encourages a don’t-bite-the-hand-that-feeds mentality. All attempts by bankdead to support themselves without official supplies and deprive legitimate businesses of profit or change the state of affairs in some other way are squashed or sapped of strength. In our case, it never even got to violence. The only organization I have ever heard of that has succeeded at holding out against these tactics is the one run by Rashana Birla, and I had no illusions that we wielded anything like the power that makes this success possible.
“So, after consulting with the council, I decided at last to meet him. It was a simple question of accept his offer or cease to exist. I had already tossed all my chips into this community, sacrificing every bit of money I’d had and even seeking ID euthanasia. If it fell to pieces I’d be ruined—bankdead like all the rest and unable to make any kind of difference. Not only that, but over a million people now depended on the services Xenocyst provided. We had become responsible for them too, and I couldn’t let my personal feelings lead me to neglect that responsibility.”
Again Hippo’s eyes went wide and his jaw quivered briefly at the memory before he quickly regained his composure.
“The very day I agreed to the man’s offer, the centicopter arrived. Ever since, we have slept in disposable skyscrapers, worn generic clothes, and lived in total dependence on donations. Though most of our sustenance comes from generic feeding stations, a few of these have been replaced with branded stations around the borders. This makes it difficult for the gifted born here to migrate out to the Gifted Triangle once they’re old enough to take care of themselves and encourages growth of the branded enclaves I’m sure you’ve seen, which places the burden of managing and protecting their residents on us. Though our objective was never to help the gifted, the council mostly agrees that it would be wrong to kick out the ones who grew up here and could invite further reprisals. The result is that traces of plutogenic hierarchy have taken hold here. In not providing education or contraceptives, we’re complicit with the Charity Gift Economy. It’s not as though we actively fool anyone into gifting, but we don’t correct them either and that leaves them susceptible to misunderstanding. I try to make the excuse that we’re letting everyone make up their own minds. There are many texts in the library that explain what’s actually going on, if anyone would bother to read them. But few are literate and so in practice we allow them to be deceived into gifting to keep this place running. This makes us hardly any different from the venture charities I sought to avoid becoming. In many ways I think the Opportunity Scientists are more deserving of respect than we are, since their principle of Universal Marketability makes them willing to embrace even the most inforaving maniac whereas we continue to discriminate and only let in a select few. The Philanthropy Syndicate certainly doesn’t see us as any different. Do you understand what I’m saying?! As far as the MegaGloms are concerned, we’re no better than a misogynistic, brutally authoritarian religion that breeds slaves, abducts babies, conducts bizarre pseudo-scientific rituals, and promotes self-mutilation so long as we produce the same yield at comparable cost. But there’s little point in complaining about the situation; we only exist by the grace of the Syndicate, and there’s nothing we can do to change it.”
Hippo paused to gaze back and forth between them, and for the first time, Amon understood the pain in his eyes.
“So, Gura, you asked me at the festival why anyone bothers to get up in the morning, and I evaded your question. At one time, I would have told you that Xenocyst residents gain satisfaction from taking charge of their own lives to better themselves and the lives of others. Monetary payment is irrelevant to those who feel solidarity in constantly striving for something more. But that has all changed and I no longer know how to answer you.
“Now the supplies we depend on have been reduced and it’s no longer just our dignity that’s at stake; if this continues I fear the end of our community is inevitable. This time, no one is making us any conditional offers, and the council’s requests to the venture charities for negotiation have been ignored without explanation. So ask more questions if you will—your understanding is key, as I’ve said—but please lend us your minds. You must have unique contributions to make and we’re in no position to overlook even the slightest chance for a solution.”
Amon had been so intent on listening to Hippo he only realized now, in vague recollection, that a guard had entered a few minutes earlier, gathered up the teapot and cups, and carried them away. His crossed legs were cold, half-numb slabs beneath him, and he switched them, hearing Little Book’s tapping and the faint rakhaw of crows somewhere outside, as he struggled to assimilate everything Hippo had told them. At last, he could see how the different elements of the District of Dreams he’d been learning about came together: the Philanthrophy Syndicate, the SpawnU Consortium, the Charity Gift Economy, Delivery, pitypromo, vending machines, plutogenic algorithms, Opportunity Science, CareBots, freekeepers, Fleet … The way it all worked wasn’t really surprising to him, though the fact that he wasn’t surprised was. Only weeks earlier, he would never have believed such a bizarre, iniquitous arrangement could have been possible in the Free Era. Now it fit perfectly with everything he’d experienced since Rick had failed to show up for work that summer day. Hippo’s story told Amon as much about the District of Dreams, Hippo, and Xenocyst as it did about himself. Without realizing, he’d changed immeasurably, ready now to swallow even the most rancid facts. The worst of which, he had to admit, was that he’d played an integral role in supporting all this, delineating the world of banklife and bankdeath by banishing those who couldn’t cope with the AT market.
It wasn’t as though thoughts of being a Liquidator had never made him feel guilty before. He had always cringed at the sound of bankrupts screaming when they got nerve dusted, and began to have inklings of doubt about his job when Makesh (Rashana?) had suggested to him that banishing citizens to slums forever simply for making bad financial choices was wrong. This doubt had grown further when he’d crashed Barrow and seen that even the greatest men were susceptible to financial collapse, and when he’d nearly gone bankrupt soon after and seen that he himself was too. But his first-hand experience of the place he had sent so many had turned h
is doubt into a certainty—into a categorical denial of the justice of anything he had ever done. Now he was more guilty and ashamed than ever, and he began to wonder how long these two emotions would dominate his life—until a thought came to him for the first time. What can I do to make up for my sins, to give back for what I have taken? Answering Hippo’s plea seemed like his best chance, though he had little hope of succeeding, as if a sad, fallen man such as he had the strength to atone for all the many wrongs that he had done …
“I have another question,” said Amon, raising his head to break from his net of perplexity. Although he wasn’t sure whether he’d have made the promise to the PhisherKing if he’d known what ordeals answering all his questions would entail, he felt somehow as though he was approaching the truth about jubilee and wasn’t about to stop now.
Hippo nodded for him to continue.
“Well … ever since I met you, Hippo, you seem to have taken an interest in us. You argued in my favor at my initial hearing, you invited us to sit with everyone at the equinox festival, and now you’re taking the time to talk with us when there are so many other people in this community who might benefit from your attention. So … I asked you a similar question at the festival, but why us? You know we were Liquidators, that we’ve done nothing but harm to people who didn’t deserve it. We made all of this“—Amon waved his hand around as if to take in the whole slum—”possible, and yet you single us out and treat us with …” kindness. Amon’s voice cracked and faded as he felt the urge to cry at the thought of it. No one other than Mayuko and Rick had ever given him anything without expectation of recompense.
“Please don’t be offended about this, Shaké. I have immense respect for you and value your presence in this community immensely. But it’s because of you, Gura. As I told you the day we met, I feel a special connection to you because of the strange symmetry to our stories. Don’t you see it? I was an Identity Vitalator, you were an Identity Executioner. I gave citizens digital life and you took it away. I committed ID euthanasia and had someone take away my digital life. You committed ID suicide and took your own. Both of us chose to cash crash without going bankrupt, and here we are with our BodyBanks still installed. Do you realize the significance of this?”
Amon shook his head.
“I retain the codes for life, and you for death.”
Once Hippo said this, Amon saw immediately that it was true. Identity Vitalators memorized the top-secret Birth Codes that allowed them to endow twenty-year-old youths with an identity signature, and Identity Executioners memorized the top-secret Death Codes that allowed them to erase it. GATA security protocol ensured that they were sent new codes to memorize at periodic intervals so that the old ones could be regularly reset, and their codes were annulled if one of them went bankrupt. Yet, since both Amon and Hippo were disconnected from the ImmaNet, the program that reset the codes would be unable to work on them, and since they’d cash crashed without being liquidated, no annulment would have been performed. In other words, protocol didn’t cover the unique cases of ID euthanasia and suicide. Therefore, their codes would still be active. Amon had been too fixated on the fact that he’d retained his data to realize the value of his memory.
“Of course we cannot use our codes without access to the ImmaNet, as we have no way to interface with other BodyBanks,” continued Hippo, “but in principle we still have the power to give and take digital life. To me this feels profoundly significant, though I cannot say how or why. Do you not feel the same?”
Amon thought about this and closed his eyes to visualize the code he still remembered, conjuring a string of jade digits on the black curtain there. Vitalator. Executioner. Euthanasia. Suicide. Banklife. Bankdeath. He saw something glint in the depths of the darkness, a diamond that winked into existence and then burst into ten thousand shards, the faintest aura left after its passing drifting towards him across the endless space behind his eyelids and filling him with wonder. Something tells me your search is leading you to our rejuvenation …
“Yes, it does feel important.” As though they might somehow make use of this unique combination of knowledge if only they knew how.
“So perhaps you understand then why I feel a certain kinship with you and decided to persuade the council in your favor. When the Books, Vertical, and Ty reported to me that you were overcoming webloss quickly, adapting well to our less than luxurious lifestyle, and showing promise as a worker, I began to suspect that you might be of value to us. You see, there are few like us at Xenocyst who understand the Free World but can also cope with bankdeath. The giftless crashdead who get rejected from Er usually go mad and wither away or end up with the Opportunity Scientists, and we don’t accept the gifted ones that get the treatment.”
“So it was you who had me brought here, wasn’t it!?” said Rick. Upon hearing these words, several facts snapped together in Amon’s mind—Rick appearing suddenly on his supply crew, their assignment to be roommates, the special lessons with the Books—and he knew it was true even before Hippo nodded.
“Precisely, yes. Once I began to see potential in you, Gura, I remembered you talking during the hearing about your friend and partner Rick Ferro, and I doubted that he was dead as you seemed to believe. I thought he might complement your skills here, so I had some of our messengers run over to the Er facility run by Rashana to see if anyone by that name had been picked up. We have an agreement with them to take in some of their giftless graduates. Luckily my guess turned out right and I requested that he be brought here when his treatment period was complete. I didn’t tell you in the beginning because I decided we should see what he was made of first. Otherwise, if he failed the trial period and we had to expel him from Xenocyst, I was concerned it would break your heart. Thankfully, he’d already recovered fairly well in Er and, when Book was done with him, I assigned you to join him on his first supply pickup. Ty’s report about your behavior in the field was encouraging, but I made up my mind that we needed you two after I talked with Gura at the festival. All your concerns about freedom and the meaning of our lives here showed me your sensitivity and the depth of your conscience. That was why I had Ty take you out as guards and patrolmen. Not because I’m thinking these positions would suit you two, though they might be the obvious choice given your previous careers and your success on the last mission. Rather, I’ve decided to rotate you through a variety of tasks so you can see different facets of Xenocyst and better understand our many needs. No promises of course, but my hope is that you can one day serve as a supply coordinator and interpreter team. This involves communicating with the venture charities and expressing our needs in their bureaucratic language, among other tasks. For this we require personnel like you two who can bridge the linguistic, cognitive, economic, and cultural gap between bankdead and bankliving. You also have experience in administration, Gura, albeit in a totally different organization, and if all goes well I could even see you taking part in that here, perhaps by joining the council or serving as an advisor.
“I have faced much resistance to bringing you two in, in part because some resent my position as advisor, and I’ve heard rumors that they’re secretly calling for my retirement. Most likely they view crashborn like you as a reinforcement of my outdated approach and I was only able to secure approval to summon Shaké and to offer you both lessons from the Books by forcing through a vote when certain councilors happened to be absent. This of course infuriated those who were excluded from the discussion and turned them even more adamantly against you. The number of councilors who abstained today reveals the controversy surrounding your membership, as many who would otherwise support it are afraid to take sides and possibly damage their relationship with other councilors over what they see as a minor issue. Their silence is a testament to the potential they see in you after your success on the Gifted Triangle mission, and I don’t regret my decision to struggle in your favor, even if I’ve stirred up conflict, as I share their opinion.”
“Thank you for your fa
ith in us,” said Rick.
“Yes,” Amon concurred, feeling so flattered he was almost embarrassed. “We’ll do our best to make useful contributions as long as we’re here.”
Amon remembered when he’d said similar things to Sekido, pledging his allegiance to GATA, but this time it felt different. Now he was offering his loyalty with clear eyes and a clear head. Assisting a community that genuinely gave succor to the poor was the least he could do.
“You know I would have laughed if anyone other than you suggested the possibility of leaving here,” said Hippo, “but Rashana stakes such a strong interest in you I wonder if it might not be possible.”
“So you heard from Rick about Delivery?”
“Yes. But not from Shaké. I heard it from Rashana herself.”
“You spoke to her?” Amon’s heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and alarm. “When?”
“She came here looking for you just last week.”
“Rashana Birla came here? To Xenocyst? In person?” Amon was having trouble imagining the second-richest person on Earth setting foot in such a squalid labyrinth.
“Yes, and it wasn’t her first time either. As I told you, my relationship with the Birlas goes back a long way. I never sought the funding of the Birla parents for Xenocyst, as I knew they would insist on having executive say, but I canvassed the sisters, and though Anisha was not interested, Rashana became one of our most generous patrons. Now that my foundation has been sued out of existence, she has shifted resources to her own organization, which as far as I can tell mainly focuses on dispatching independent journalists to raise awareness about the District of Dreams in addition to running Er for the giftless. If her parents had given her executive control of Fertilex, I’m sure she’d be doing much more, but sadly that’s not what has come to pass, and perhaps for that very reason.”
The Naked World Page 38