“Yes, sir.”
“Most of the files were deleted, yes?”
“That’s right, Major.”
“We don’t need all the video. Can you vector map the individual units and store their movements in a compressed form?”
“Sure, that’s easy.”
“All we need are Xs and Os, Sergeant. Give me that, stats on each unit, their movements, commands executed, and results.” Thompson thinks for a moment. “So long as there are transcripts, we can lose the audio as well. Probably make it easier for the analysts if they don’t have to see and hear people dying.”
“Aye, sir.”
“How long to compress and download to the smaller core?”
“Two to three hours, best guess.”
“All right. Get started. I’m going up.” Thompson turns to Argo. “You ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Walk out with me.” The Gun leads his friend to the intersection and pauses. “It seems like whatever had the kid distracted earlier is gone. Did you speak to him?”
“Didn’t have to. Seems he resolved the issues.”
“I agree. He took that video stream well…better than you.”
Argo’s jaw flexes in embarrassment at his outburst. “You’re right, Thompson, I…”
The Gun holds a hand up. “There’re plenty of things here that’ll distract us. I think I even called Beckert ‘Maiella’ once.”
Argo smirks. “Yeah, you did.”
“We have to watch out for each other, make sure none of us loses focus. Make sure we’re in control, always. That goes doubly for me, understand?”
The Brick straightens his embarrassed hunch. “I do.”
Thompson cracks a smile and slaps Argo on his armored shoulder. “I’ll see you in three hours.”
The Gun bounces backwards, turns, and runs down the long corridor. Argo crouches at the corner and watches his comrade disappear into the darkened mists.
The Censure of Genia Mendes
Beckert slumps in the wing-backed chair, nearly bored. The download from Noromi’s terminal is proceeding well, and he has several automated hack tools searching for hidden files on the Cadre projects. As his eyes wander across the console, he notices a level slot in the front edge. He sits up suddenly and traces a finger over the dimension.
Media reader?
His eyes fall to the damp sacks at his feet. After untying the harness, he dunks his hand into the closest bag and pulls out a fist full of media records. Every one is wet and covered in fine silt. With an annoyed sigh, he tosses them back and reties the harness.
The small records remind him of the vault they came from and of the rag wrapped skeletons maintaining their eternal embrace…the brown bag beside them, with its secret stash…
Beckert leans forward so he can pull a compartment from his back. He opens the air-tight box and finds the eight media records he pulled from the zippered pouch in the brown bag. The records are pristine. Excited, he takes them in one hand and returns the compartment to his rack with the other. One by one, he lays them out on the console. Each plastic record bears a hand-written label with the date. The Geek orders them chronologically and picks up the first. He is about to dunk it into the slot when a knotting in his stomach makes him hesitate.
No, it won’t be like the other videos. This will be different, I’m sure of it.
The knot releases, and he slides the record into the slot. The center wall screen illuminates with a crude counter which ticks down to zero. A loud beep blurts through the audio system and the title, DC News, 2472, July 17, Van der Beek interview (unaired, unedited) fills the frame.
The screen blanks and fades up on a thin brunette. Her green eyes are offset by eyeliner, her slightly drawn cheeks are well tanned. A sharp maroon business suit squares her shoulders, and gold-rimmed spectacles perch on the bridge of her nose. She sits in a stylish chair, her legs crossed modestly.
“Good morning. This is Genia Mendes with the Financial Report.” The woman adjusts her spectacles. “Today, I’m here with the Chief Marketing Officer of Soshiba Varicorp, Dr. Manfred Van der Beek.”
She gestures to a long-legged, balding man with a paunch and square jaw seated opposite her. His black silk suit is immaculate and tastefully accented. He leans comfortably in his chair, exposing a thick band of gold around his wrist.
Moving to the edge of her chair, the woman turns to her guest and smiles graciously.
“Thank you for taking the time, Dr. Van der Beek. We’re glad you could join us.”
“My pleasure, of course,” the man replies.
“There’s hardly anyone in the world who hasn’t heard of Soshiba Varicorp, as you are, by far, the world’s largest employer, is that right?”
Van der Beek smiles.
“That’s correct. When you include all of the support and contracting companies on our payroll, we employ nearly a quarter of the world’s working population.”
Genia beams with admiration. “It would be impossible to discuss all of your company’s products and services in the time we have, so let’s focus on the largest and most fruitful of your endeavors. Could you tell us about that?”
“You mean our colony program?”
The woman nods affirmatively. “How did such a huge program ever get started?”
Van der Beek smoothes his tie. “The energy and climate crisis of the late 21st century brought some of the worst economic devastation humanity had ever seen. It used to be that, in times of war, the victorious powers participated in the reconstruction of the defeated. Not so in the economic wars of the time. Where wealth and energy were super-concentrated in a few powerful nations, those without it withered, and entire nations turned refugee. Fundamentalism, banditry, piracy, and xenophobia grew as never before. Desperate, sad times.”
The man leans forward.
“But our company’s founders looked out and saw a vast, untapped labor potential. Only something truly huge could adequately utilize it. And they were thinking big.”
“Even so,” the woman counters, “going from idea to implementation is a big step.”
Van der Beek nods. “That’s right. It was a radical move forward in mankind’s progress. Truly a multi-national effort, since this was before any form of effective global government, you see. Everything was accomplished via persuasion and incentive. A remarkable feat.”
“Absolutely,” Genia agrees, “especially when you take into account how long it took to turn a profit on initial investment.”
“One hundred fifty years before the project was in the black, adjusted for inflation, of course.”
“That day became a corporate holiday at first, I understand, and later became the global holiday we call, Emancipation Day.”
“Indeed.” The man laughs to himself. “Did you know the CEO at the time named it ‘Black Thursday’? No sparkle in that guy at all.”
“One of your first acts as the new CMO was to change that, isn’t that right?”
“That’s right. I mean, it was a liberating, historic event!” The man looks up in fond recollection, raising his hands up as if he were framing a banner. “Emancipation Day. That sums it up so much better.”
“Ironic,” the woman says subtly.
Van der Beek leans in. “Pardon?”
The woman jumps back to the interview. “If your project was so cost intensive with such a long timeline to profitability, how did you attract investors?”
“Ah! Glad you asked. The project architects knew the original research and development would produce spin-offs in all sectors of the economy. If you think about it, it’s so simple. A colony would need all of the things necessary to support human life: agriculture, pharmaceuticals, machinery, durable housing, transportation, administration, recycling systems, energy efficiency and production. I could go on and on…but every one of our products had application right here on Earth. Investment assured access to that research.”
“But there was little incentive to an indivi
dual investor,” Genia adds.
“That’s true. There were various ways to arrange the debt structure to allow for the paying of annual dividends, but…the costs of administering such a program was unwieldy, especially when the company was getting such large funding from businesses and governments.”
“The appeal to industry is clear, with all of the research you were providing, but what was the draw for government investment?”
Van der Beek shifts in his seat. “Well, it gets complicated when dealing with political structures, to be sure. A lot of tap dancing and pony rides if you catch my meaning. But in every population, there are social problems. Chiefly, these problems stem from poverty and crime. And as I mentioned earlier, crime and poverty were epidemic. So the founders went to the most addicted, hopeless, disease-infested slums they could find: Rio, Kolkata, Bangkok, Moscow, Los Angeles, Kinshasa, Mexico City, you name it, and they developed a plan that would solve those social problems for good. Nations threw money at us.”
“Yes, could you tell us more about that?” she asks politely.
“The company established self-contained facilities on the outskirts of these failed urban centers—production centers complete with housing, cafeterias, schools, and hospitals. People moved from the slums into their new homes, received clean food and water, a secure environment.”
“That sounds expensive. How did that benefit your company?”
“Well, the stipulation was that the social benefits would serve as the people’s compensation, and they would work in the production centers.”
Genia’s eyes narrow. “Sounds like incarceration without trial.”
“Yes,” Van der Beek says, “I was afraid you’d see it that way, and I understand why you think ‘Emancipation Day’ sounds ironic. But consider this: these nations were unable to cope with the scale of destitution. Here were large groups of people who, in their desperation, spawned criminals at a frightening rate. Disease and addiction were catastrophic. They drained government resources in police, fire, health, and social services, yet lacked the opportunity to contribute anything. And every year, the slums got more crowded.”
The woman nods sympathetically while the man continues.
“Now we have these people secure in one of our facilities, and their basic needs are finally being met. Crime plummets, addiction plummets, spread of disease plummets, sanitation improves. Government services needed to manage the awful conditions are freed for more productive pursuits. Without the squatters, the city can be reclaimed and restored. New businesses which support the production facility move into the reclaimed neighborhoods, encouraging people to move in from other areas. With crime smashed, and sanitation high, the city attracts new businesses and opportunities. More businesses and more residents mean more tax revenues. More tax revenues permit greater services, parks, facilities. In short, a dead city is resurrected.”
“So the company attains an inexpensive work force, and the governments have major social problems managed for them.”
The man raises a long finger.
“Let’s not forget about the people of the slums. Their living standard was instantly raised. They can wake up in security, knowing they have three meals a day. Injuries or sicknesses can be treated immediately and their wellness is remarkably improved. Even the addicts, we saved. And their rehabilitation was anything but inexpensive, Ms. Mendes. It was truly a humanitarian venture where everyone benefited.”
Genia focuses on her interviewee sharply.
“So the relocation was voluntary?”
The man’s brow furrows as he tries to decide if the question is an indictment.
“No. They were compelled.”
“Did the people see it as a good thing for them?”
Van der Beek straightens his back, staring harshly at the attractive woman.
“Have you ever seen a child dying of cholera? Dysentery? Malaria? Have you seen the scars and infected wounds from rats gnawing on them at night? Gangs of eight year olds murdering for pay? Addicted mothers? Ten-year-old prostitutes?”
He pauses tersely.
“When you see someone who is desperately injured, you don’t ask first, you take them to the hospital so they can be well.”
“People are allowed to leave a hospital, Dr. Van der Beek.”
The man looks down.
“I understand where you’re coming from.” He looks up suddenly. “But where would they go if we let them leave? Back to their old lives? Remember, anyone with the ability to escape that hell would have done so long before we arrived. These people had nothing. Now, I accept that such actions draw scrutiny, and the company has received a lot of negative attention as a result. But I believe completely that it was the right thing to do then, and it continues to be the right thing to do now.”
Genia’s expression softens, her gaze becomes warm and friendly.
“I apologize if I offended you, Dr. Van der Beek. These are difficult moral dilemmas with no clear solution. We’re obliged to discuss them.”
“And I respect your position,” Van der Beek says, his shoulders rounding. “We need these questions asked of us.”
Genia nods. “I appreciate that. Let’s move on to one of your company’s greatest successes: the colonization of new worlds.”
She gestures to a panel on the wall between them. The panel illuminates with the image of a shining glass and metal dome. A short, conical vent stands at the dome’s apex.
Van der Beek turns in his seat and smiles in fond recognition.
“Ah, New Bangalore.”
“Well named, it seems, as the majority of its colonists came from the Bengaluru production facility.”
“That’s right. Only the best and brightest earn the opportunity to join a colony expedition. Bengaluru has regularly raised the top workers in each generation.”
Genia watches her interviewee carefully. “Is it true that the colonists may be offered work outside of the production centers?”
Van der Beek swivels forward. “Yes, it is. After their term of service off world, they are free to work anywhere, in fact. Their commitment to hard work is well documented, and their governments are quite willing to have them back in society. But then, by the time a colony is up to full production, we find the colonists have developed extremely useful management skills and are quite diverse in their areas of expertise. We try hard to retain their services.”
“How hard?”
The man grins mischievously and clasps his hands. “Our contracts are juicy.”
Genia arches an eyebrow. “How juicy?”
“Why, Ms. Mendes, are you job hunting?”
She returns the mischievous smile. “Not yet.” Her face resumes the serious expression. “So what about the families of these freed workers? The ones still in the production facilities?”
“The freed workers can visit their families any time they wish. We encourage it, in fact, because it provides a strong role model to the others and motivates them to succeed.”
“Can the families leave with the freed workers?”
“Yes, but only so long as the freed employee has the means to support them. Remember, the governments want a guarantee that Soshiba Varicorp will hold up its end of the bargain. That’s one of the reasons we offer such generous contracts.”
“It could also be seen as leverage, using the family to keep the freed worker in the company.”
Van der Beek shakes his head. “Again, I understand your perspective, though I assure you that isn’t how we use it. If the free employee finds other lucrative contracts outside our company, he can pursue them and bring his family along.”
“But honestly, who can compete with a firm which employs one quarter of the world’s working population?”
The man nods modestly. “It’s true, we usually offer the top prize. But there’s nothing wrong with that. We are a business, after all, and we want the best. We’re not afraid to pay for it. The CFO constantly talks about our investment in ‘human capital’,
but I hate that term. We invest in people. And it’s a sound investment.”
Genia nods in acceptance and shifts her posture.
“Let’s skip forward to the present. Soshiba Varicorp has redefined our standards of living with the influx of wealth and materiel from its three functioning colonies. And I understand your fourth expedition is scheduled for launch?”
“That’s right. This one is headed for a planet thirty times farther away than New Bangalore, so we had to redesign almost every part of the colony ship. We probably overbuilt this one, but you never know in space. No point putting sixty years worth of human endeavor into something if you can’t be sure it’ll get there.”
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