The 2084 Precept

by Anthony D. Thompson

  Pedro administered just about everything, the loading and unloading of the containers, the land transport, the ships' operations and the relationships with both the dockworkers and the customers. He was a positive young guy and he bombarded me with comprehensive information to all the questions I asked and to some I didn't. He told me that the dockworkers' union in Barcelona insisted on seventeen workers; if we didn't pay for this number each day, our ships would neither be loaded nor unloaded. He told me that in Palma they insisted on twelve workers. And he told me that only five were necessary including the crane operator. Therefore we had huge unnecessary costs, he said, which unfortunately could not be avoided. I asked him if our customers really needed a guaranteed daily shipping service, and he said that he was 99% sure they did, and that we would lose customers if we were to stop providing it.

  There we go again, that phrase I keep hearing wherever I go and the subject of my small gift to Geoff at United Fasteners. I told Pedro that in my experience the use of 99% as an adjunct to the word 'sure', a noun which speaks for itself in any dictionary and which requires no amplification of any kind, generally indicated that the speaker was in fact not sure. He smiled at this, and agreed one might interpret it that way. And at my prompting, he also agreed to circularize all of our customers with a questionnaire asking them to confirm this need, and at the same time asking them to suggest to us any improvements they would like to see in the way we handled their business.

  An interesting first day's work, I thought to myself, as the taxi took me back to the hotel. As soon as I got to my room, I called Pujol and told him the tale of the self-authorized employee loans and the fact that they could not, at the present point in time, be repaid. There was a long silence from his end and then he said he would be flying over tomorrow morning. He had decided it was a serious matter, as of course it was. The flight was less than an hour each way but he would be losing a minimum of five hours out of his day for the trip, including the time spent at the office. Not a happy man, nor did he sound it.

  I put on my swimming shorts and went down to the rocks and into the sea. Life was good, Céline was slowly moving further and further into the nebulous depths of the painful memory compartment; and as I floated up and down on the gentle Mediterranean waves, I lazily began to consider which of the blinking red lights I might attempt to activate, a holiday in one of Mallorca's élite hotels was bait of the finest quality. But not just yet of course. I had a lot of work to do first, I had to find out whether there were any solutions to the problems of Naviera Pujol, and I had to do it—as always—fast. Therefore, a few more days of celibacy were called for, keep the priorities right.

  I had dinner on the hotel terrace, a pleasant piece of fish and a pleasant half-bottle of dry white. There were some great-looking women at some of the tables but no single ones as far as I could see, only the ones who live their luxury lives on the monetary backs of their male counterparts. I don't blame them, the men supply the money and they supply…well, they supply something else. A fair barter, nobody forced into anything. Just as well in any case, my energies needed to remain focused on the shipping world for the time being.

  I was at the coffee, cognac and cigarette stage when Jeremy's phone rang.

  "Peter," he said, "how are you, how is life treating you?"

  "Hello there yourself, Jeremy," I replied. "Hard work, you know how it is."

  "Yes, I have no doubt. You presumably heard the news about the asteroid?"

  "No."

  "Well, needless to say, it hit as planned. A sizeable one, it made another big dent in Mars' surface."

  "I don't know where you get the knowledge about these events, Jeremy. I have to say that you have my full admiration. You must be making yourself pretty famous in our scientific circles, would be my guess."

  "Yes…well…same as before, Peter. The event was not pre-ordained. We made it happen and my colleagues really enjoyed themselves this time."

  "They did?" I asked, although I wasn't particularly interested in the delusion's details.

  "Yes, they did. Apart from calculating the usual things, such as how many meters diameter, the space-time algorithms to get the timing right, the trajectory, the computations to preclude total pre-impact disintegration, and all the rest of it, they had to take care not to damage any of your property. And this involved them in some very interesting mathematical intricacies."

  "Our property?"

  "Yes. Apart from the many defunct mechanisms you have lying around up there—you failed to mention in our meeting that you are already polluting other planets with your junk—you currently have five functioning Mars spacecraft, three in orbit and two on the surface."

  "We do?"

  "Yes, and of course we needed to avoid them if it were possible to do so. And it was possible. My guys really enjoyed it. No unnecessary damage caused."

  I didn't know what to say and so I didn't say anything. But I had to marvel at his inexhaustible capacity for detailed back-up, this obsession with his entangled and complex fantasy world. I wouldn't bother to check up on our spacecraft. I am sure he was talking fact, he would have checked it all out himself.

  "Anyway, you will no doubt read about it tomorrow," he said. "But the main point is, a summit conference is confirmed for Wednesday in Geneva. I have agreed to attend and I will be providing them with some assistance regarding certain investigations in the biological field which they would do well to undertake. And you will be pleased to learn that your presence is not required, Peter, I can handle it on my own."

  "Biological investigations?"

  "Yes. Many of your scientists have completed a significant amount of research during the past few decades into the causes of human aggressiveness, and an extensive number of lengthy theses have been produced, including ones with titles such as 'Eliminating the Causes of War'. But most of these specialists have now virtually given up. There has been nothing even approaching a conclusion, I'm afraid, which is not surprising given the rudimentary levels of biology scholarship on your planet, and your unfortunate inability to agree with each other on anything in any case. I intend to give it a big push forward, but of course they will have to pursue it themselves. That is to say, they will have to agree to pursue it; and it will need funding, and I would really like to see them do that."

  "Can you explain to me something about this connection between human aggressiveness and biology, Jeremy?"

  "I can, Peter, but I don't have the time right now. Perhaps on our next call, let's say after the meeting on Wednesday."

  "O.K., Jeremy, then thank you for calling. And good luck on Wednesday."

  "Well, we'll see what happens on Wednesday. They still don't believe me. The prime minister told me that they want to meet 'my bosses', they want to see a bunch of aliens, more proof is what they're after. But they won't get that. They can't even envisage why 'proof' in a physical form is not possible anyway. And in any case, Peter, as I told your prime minister, they should totally forget about whether there are any aliens or not. Your species will find out soon enough what will happen to it if it doesn't take steps to change itself. You will not, believe me, be allowed to continue being as you are and doing what you are doing until such time as you eventually discover how to make your way out into the universe."

  "Yes, so you indicated previously."

  "And I told them that this meeting in Geneva would be my first and also my last attendance. After that, they—or I should say you, since you are one of them—will be on your own."

  "What about our interviews?" I asked.

  "I should learn about the subjects for those within the next few days," he replied. "In the meantime, the good news for you is that unless the Geneva meeting is abruptly cancelled, I shall be transferring the remaining extra €300,000 we agreed upon to your account on Thursday morning. Without your cooperation up front, this meeting would not be taking place and, as you say, a deal is a deal."

  I went back upstairs, sank into my balcony chair and
smoked a cigarette. I was an extremely happy and relaxed member of my species. All of that money for doing next to nothing! And a whole lot more after a few more interviews!

  And the interviews were definitively going to be the end of my involvement. Whatever happened to Jeremy, whatever happened to his fantasy world and whatever the politicians decided to do or decided not to do, all of that would be of no interest to me whatsoever. My near-term future would consist entirely of the Naviera in Palma, Clark's in Slough, Monika and Mr. Brown in Okriftel, and whichever available blinking red light turned out to be the most exciting. Or erotic. Or even romantic, why not?

  DAY 33

  I got up at six o'clock and was down in the port by seven thirty. The captain of the Mahon Star was sitting in the bar opposite the entrance to the docks, as Pedro had told me he would be. He was drinking a carejillo and reading the newspaper, as Pedro had also told me he would be.

  I introduced myself. Yes, he said, Pedro had told him I would be wanting a chat with him. His name was Agustín and he was from Galicia. He was of medium height, I guess around fifty years of age, not much hair left but very strongly built, he had arms as thick as my thighs and could probably murder people such as myself any time he felt like doing it and with very little effort. But he was not of the kind who would feel like doing it. He gave me the impression of being a placid and companionable sort of fellow, one of those gentle and tranquil giants.

  The daytime was a quiet time for him while the ship was being unloaded and then re-loaded with the return freight. He also slept in his cabin for a couple of hours during the afternoon, he said, to add to the few hours' sleep he got during the night with one of his crew on the watch. I had only one question for him, and that was: did he have any problems and/or did he have any suggestions for improvement? Oh yes, he said straight away. He was a captain who would put to sea in any weather, there weren't too many like him in ships of this size and tonnage; but he wouldn't do it with the top deck container fixtures in the state they were in on his ship. What needs doing, I asked. The fixtures themselves are rusted through and need replacing and some professional welding is required, he said. The cost would be over €100,000. But cheap at the price, he continued, just think of the revenues from the additional sailings. And that is what I did, but not for long, there was no need for a cost/benefit analysis on this one. So why haven't we fixed it, I asked. No money, he said.

  I thanked him, paid for his brandy-laced coffee, purchased my IHT at the kiosk on the corner, and headed for the office. I said good morning to Pedro who was recording the unloading operation and contacting the various customers and haulage firms, and to three other staff members who were already at work. I poured myself a coffee and read the paper for a few minutes.

  The Mars story was front-page news, and two or three related articles were churning out facts and hypotheses such as what kind of asteroid risk existed for the planet Earth. On another tack, there had been 422 conflict fatalities yesterday, a disastrous day including for eight U.N. soldiers who had been blown up defending their countries' interests. Or what their birdbrain bosses had defined as their countries' interests. Their elected birdbrains, let us not forget, elected in order to implement the electorate's wishes, haha. And who, if required to personally participate in the implementation of their decisions, might possibly have defined their countries' interests in a slightly different way. No, not possibly. Nor probably. Definitely.

  The remainder of the staff was in by nine o'clock except for María del Carmen who arrived at twenty past, and Alfonso who ambled in at twenty to ten. Not good at all. This has to be prevented, I'll have words with both of them later on in the day.

  At ten o'clock Sr. Pujol arrived and closeted himself with Alfonso in his office.

  María came into my office and handed me more of the information I had requested on my list. I thanked her for the fast work and told her that, starting today, I would like to receive each day's supplier invoices and that nothing, absolutely nothing, was to be processed for payment unless the invoice had my approval signature on it. This was to apply even if I was ill for a few days or away on business in Barcelona; everything would simply have to wait until I got back. Unless there was something of unavoidable urgency, in which case my approval could be obtained by telephone and I would sign retroactively upon my return.

  May I ask you, Sr. O'Donoghue, she said, why you wish to involve yourself in such detailed administrative work? Yes, I said, this is the best and easiest way for me to learn in detail about all of the company's costs and within a very short timeframe, just a few few months. I can only do it in companies with low invoice volumes such as this one, and it only takes me between five and ten minutes each day, so I will not be causing any undesirable delays. And of course, María, if there happen to be any unnecessary or overpriced costs, I shall be eliminating them. But perhaps there aren't any, I said with my own home-made version of a reptilian grin, and she scuttled off back to the outer office, an unhappy lady, somebody was introducing some controls here.

  I flipped through her documentation and studied the details of two of the very large cost items. The ships' fuel was of course one of them. But I was puzzled about the large up and down swings in the fuel consumption from month to month. What could be the cause of that? No idea. The second item was the dockworker costs. Between Barcelona and Palma we were paying twenty nine dockworkers every day, six days a week. And a quick piece of mental arithmetic told me that this must represent over €1 million per year, and a check with last year's P&L number confirmed this number. Crazily overstaffed dock operations, now what to do about that? I had no idea on that one either.

  Shortly before twelve, Sr. Pujol came into my office and sat down.

  "I have fired Sr. Orfila," he said. "He has already left the premises and taken his personal possessions with him."

  I looked at him, said nothing.

  "I do not tolerate theft in any form," he said.

  I kept looking at him and I kept saying nothing. But I was thinking. I was thinking, shit, the guy with all the knowledge of this industry was no longer there, and that was going to cause me a lot of headaches.

  "And I have taken the decision to ask you if you would care to take over his position as general manager and ship-owner's representative. For a period of twelve months initially."

  Well, well, well. Life's ocean is back to its habit of tossing you up high when it wants to, very high on this occasion, onto the crests of some pretty risky and mountainous waves, no doubt about it. And my neurons needed a few seconds to react, to chew things over. But only a few seconds, because the only thing I needed to do was make sure it would pay me handsomely. A simple psychological ploy might do the trick.

  "I am grateful, Sr. Pujol," I said, "and honored by your offer. But I regret that I cannot accept it. It's not possible."

  "May I ask why?" he said.

  "Of course you may. There are two reasons mainly. The first is that I have neither the knowledge nor the experience to be able to take on the responsibility of running a shipping company. And the second one is that I am already performing a difficult, full-time consultancy assignment for you. If I find out how to turn this company around, I will have to stay on and do it. And that will not be easy. It will involve a lot of blood, sweat and tears. And it is extremely urgent as well; you are bleeding a lot of cash every single day."

  "I have considered all of that," he said, "and what you say is certainly true. I appreciate that your time would be split between two difficult roles and that this would make it an arduous task. Extremely arduous. Nevertheless, I think you are a very appropriate person for this particular job at this particular time. We have a very difficult time facing us during the upcoming months, and I would be grateful if you would consider helping us to get through it."

  "Again," I said, "I truly appreciate your confidence in my person, but…"

  "To adapt the terms to meet the demands on your person," he said, "I have decided to offer you
a twelve-month contract at €350,000 per year with a substantial bonus in the event you achieve the hoped-for turnaround in results. And the contract would be renewable should both parties be so inclined. It could be confirmed to you in writing today and ready for your signature later on this week."

  He paused. He had—with apologies for another cliché—put his irons into the fire. And they were nice irons too, I had to admit that. He was making an effort.

  Decent money, great location, easy decision. "Sr. Pujol," I said. "The terms are more than satisfactory. I agree to accept your offer, but on the condition that you please note that I am doing so with a number of major reservations."

  He stood up, which didn't make him much taller, he smiled his unfortunate, treacherous smile, and he shook my hand. The contract and the official registrations of my person would be handled by his lawyers' office in Palma, he said. And I should please remember that he personally was contactable at any time of the day or night. And then he had María call for a taxi, and he left.

  I spent the remainder of the day thinking about ocean waves and the like, I wandered outside to watch some of the loading, I ate a sandwich and I drank a beer, I chatted to a couple of the ship's crew, I chatted to a couple of the communists—which is how I have always, justifiably or otherwise, viewed dockworkers in general—and then I took some of María's papers with me and took a taxi back to the hotel.

  I changed and went straight down to the pool. And after a light dinner—accompanied by a celebratory bottle of expensive and very pleasant Barolo—I went up to my room and did nothing at all except flip through María's information while continuing to ponder further the vagaries of ocean waves.

  DAY 34

  There were no ocean waves this morning. The sea was serene and unmoving and glinting softly in the early morning sunlight.

  Before leaving the hotel, I checked my emails and found two messages from Delsey. The first one explained that Jeremy Parker had indeed apparently devoted years and years of his incarceration to his favorite hobby. Astronomy. There were certain questions in this regard which they would like to discuss with me and would I please get back to him.