"So how do I fit?"
"You're also the right age, the right fitness, the right… temperament. We think. The only one who can really answer that is you."
Daniel wanted to digest this for a moment. "If I go, do I get Cave Girl?" he deflected. He solemnly held up a brochure.
Coyle laughed again. "I wouldn't mind time in the Outback with her myself! Alas, she's an actress, Daniel. We're offering wilderness, not Club Pleasure. You'll have to find your own companionship, if you want it." He winked.
"You've got to make a better pitch than that, Mr. Coyle. Especially for a year's goddamned salary. Anyone who would pay that is crazy enough to go."
Coyle nodded. "Absolutely right. So why don't you sit back and let me give you the spiel? Then you make up your own mind. No pressure, no sweat. I think you'll be intrigued, at the very least."
The chairs were far more comfortable than the plastic ones of the waiting room. Daniel sank in one and donned headgear for the presentation, adjusting the fit and sound. A desert panorama opened up again, gloriously empty. The sky was a brilliant blue, dried clear of haze. The sand was a vibrant red. Coyle walked into view. Daniel knew he was simply giving his pitch in front of a blank screen and was being projected onto the head-vid presentation, but the combination was effective. It was as if the two were together in Australia.
"Every schoolchild knows the tragic story of the Australian continent," Coyle began. The scene changed to rangeland being eaten to stubble by hundreds of browsing rabbits. "A virus concocted to control the nation's feral browsers unfortunately mutated and jumped to humans. While Australia was effectively quarantined before the infection could spread, both the targeted animals and most of the continent's human inhabitants, except for a handful of refugees, were wiped out. This was a key factor in passage of the Genetic Engineering Reform Act, of course. Meanwhile, this catastrophe was considered so threatening to the world population at large that the continent was quarantined. The refugees were interned on the Seychelles Islands. Australia was permanently blockaded to prevent salvage companies or treasure hunters from landing and running the risk of contracting and spreading the disease. To further discourage such illegal access, all detailed maps, coordinates, and geographic information detailing the continent were purged from world databases. To the extent possible, Australia was put out of sight, out of mind, as an emergency measure of public safety. Until now! Because United Corporations turns problems into solutions. Because United Corporations believes that everyone can win, all the time." Daniel saw a picture of smiling backpackers winding down a palm-shaded desert canyon. The water pool next to them was turquoise.
"The solution Australia represented was an answer to the problem of wilderness," Coyle went on, now seeming to lean against a palm tree. "The public's desire for natural preserves had first been accommodated during the population explosion of the twentieth century. Scenic areas of valuable land were deliberately set aside in countries such as the United States and Canada to satisfy the demands of individualists who wanted to experience the outdoors." The head-vid panned a group of dirty, happy hikers eating lunch along a mountain trail. Then the view lifted to show an alpine meadow and cascading glaciers. The scenery was breathtaking.
"Despite such political generosity on the part of the national forerunners to United Corporations, none of these land seizures truly replicated wilderness. All were relatively small, quickly became crowded, and were crisscrossed with trails. They were surveyed, mapped, and offered rescue if something went wrong." There were scenes of horrid overcrowding at the rim of the Grand Canyon, in a Yosemite parking lot, at a Yellowstone geyser. Long chains of recreationists wound along trails that had been trampled into trenches or mud bogs. Scraps of litter blew across an eroded clearing. A mountain lake was shown posted for pollution.
"The environmental extremists of the late twentieth century" (there was old tape footage of demonstrating greens) "demanded more. They proposed gigantic new wildernesses" (a map showed green stains growing like amoebae on western and northern North America) "so vast that people could literally get lost in them. But there was no room for more. Humanity needed resources to achieve our quality of life." Daniel was transported to a shopping mall, where happy families strolled with packages under their arms. He grinned sardonically. He'd never seen a family that happy.
"Until, that is, Virus 03.1 struck Australia. Unfortunate tragedy has presented the world with an island as big as the United States but emptier of people than Antarctica. How dangerous would Australia remain? United Corporations' board members" (there was a picture of familiar faces meeting at the U.C. board table, the men and women looking handsome and wise) "turned to science for more answers." Daniel saw hazard-suited investigators fanning out across the landscape like cautious moon-walkers. "These experts concluded Australia no longer has plague." The scientists had gathered back by their aircraft and were pushing their hoods back to grin in relief. The scene dissolved to one in a laboratory, zeroing in on a white-coated scientist perched on a stool and looking like a favorite grandfather. "Virus 03.1 died with its human carriers," the scientist assured Daniel with a smile. "It's as extinct as smallpox and AIDS." Then Coyle was back, posed now in front of the New York headquarters of United Corporations. "It was then that U.C. saw a win-win solution."
The scene changed once more to abandoned, derelict cities, empty mine pits, and drought-stunted grazing land. "Australia had always been underpopulated, dry, thin. The first European explorers, the Dutch, didn't even want it. Asian traders visited only to obtain dried sea slugs sold in China as an aphrodisiac. Even after the English came, they found mostly desert and arid savanna. Meanwhile, environmental extremists continued to raise objections to some of the world's most promising and necessary development projects. Accordingly, United Corporations saw opportunity where everyone else saw disaster. Our leaders quietly proposed a compromise. We will preserve in its wilderness state this entire continent, they offered, in return for environmental compromise on other key issues. Greens will get a natural preserve of unprecedented size so long as they abstain from unreasonable obstructionism elsewhere. And to show our good faith, the most vociferous, vocal, skeptical, and committed environmentalists are invited to be the first to test themselves against the challenge of Outback Adventure!" Daniel saw a group of young, ruddy-looking adventurers waving goodbye from an aircraft. He thought he recognized a couple of the faces from news shows. The agreement must have worked, he realized, because environmental protest had indeed become muted.
"This achievement was deliberately unpublicized, the news organizations of United Corporations recognizing that controversy is worthwhile only when it is the servant of consensus. Publicity would only invite tragedy. Australia would continue to be reported as unsafe to discourage thrill-seekers, looters, or relatives of the dead wanting to make reckless pilgrimages. The naval and satellite patrol of Australia's coastal waters would be maintained.
"The board deliberately decided to maintain the continent in permanent, purposeful decay. The panic and rioting that broke out during the plague had already damaged Australia's urban areas, and since then rot and rust have done much more. The continent's cities are deteriorating ruins and its roads are crumbled and drifted over. More importantly, most of Australia's interior was empty of people even before the plague, and today little sign can be found that humans ever ventured there. The island has reverted to a wilderness of sand, broken concrete, and scrap metal, a wilderness so absolute in its isolation that its like is found nowhere else on earth. Electronic databases, books, maps, films, tapes, and television shows on Australia have been systematically pruned. This fosters the decay not just of the nation's physical infrastructure but its informational infrastructure as well. True wilderness is not just the absence of the human footprint, it is the absence of human knowledge. To the degree possible, United Corporations has achieved both." Coyle had a look of solemn satisfaction.
"Today, then, Australia is a place of purp
oseful mystery, a deliberate step back in time, a mythic place, an Eden. And now the licensed consulting firm of Outback Adventure has been hired to screen a chosen few to experience the challenge of true wilderness exploration and personal self-discovery." Background music began to swell as the couple of the brochures walked into the glory of a desert sunset, hand in hand. "These are people who are not satisfied with the everyday, people who have advanced beyond mere recreation, people who feel compelled to challenge the unknown. Those who graduate from Outback Adventure form the most select fraternity in the world!" As the head-vid reached its climax, Australia dissolved to show Mr. Bandolier transformed into a ruggedly handsome captain of industry who walked like a lord across his factory floor, his industrial robots bowing like nodding oil pumps. His female companion was shown as the bride in a costly cathedral wedding and then as an executive moving into a high-rise corner office with a stunning view of the city. "These are today's hardened heroes…" There was a final picture of green mountains climbing to snowy peaks, and then a dissolve.
Daniel removed his headgear, somewhat dazzled from the images of Australia's vastness. He was also visibly skeptical.
"So. What did you think?"
"A bit heavy-handed at the end there, Elliott."
His counselor, who was now sitting across from him, shrugged disarmingly. "You found the script a little corny? So do I. But there's truth in that corn, Daniel."
"I don't understand why I haven't heard more about this before. I mean, an entire continent? For wilderness recreation? And then you don't tell anyone about it?"
"To publicize it is to spoil it. We don't want the refugee community lobbying to go back; they have new lives now. We don't want pilgrims or mourners or looters. And United Corporations didn't set this up to make big money, or post big numbers. We did it to satisfy the craving for adventure among a select few, some of them frankly troubled, with the idea that this might help both them and society. Win-win! That this was the very best way to use the new Australia."
Daniel shifted uncomfortably. "How so?"
"Be honest with yourself, Daniel. Are you fulfilling your full potential at Microcore? Are you doing everything you could for United Corporations? Our superiors look at people like yourself and they wonder. He's bright. He thinks for himself. But he also has trouble fitting in. So. We can leave him at a Level 31 job and let him stop growing, becoming deadwood. Or we might find something that pushes him to the limit, that tests just what he is capable of, and thus which grooms him for future leadership in U.C. society. Outback Adventure is meant to be a transforming experience. Those allowed to go are an elite."
"But keeping it a secret…"
"To publicize the opportunity is to cheapen it. The next thing you know there'd be cyber underground guidebooks, secret maps, and so much speculation that the journey would contain as much surprise as Planet Disney. We live in a world of twelve billion people, and a continent's preservation as complete wilderness is both bold and somewhat artificial. The board's choice would be economically controversial, to say the least. As a result, continued concerns about plague serve our purposes. So does quiet. We can't really keep you from telling a few war stories to close friends, of course, but you'll sign confidentiality agreements if you go. And believe me, they are enforced. No books, no speeches. No fame. Key people will know what you accomplished, but only them. We're not going to sacrifice the unique experience of future adventurers to satisfy the ego gratification of their predecessors. You're being offered a chance to qualify for the fraternity that really runs things on this planet of ours. There's a lot of competition to get in, and admittance is tough. You have to prove yourself. This is one way. It works."
Daniel nodded slowly, intrigued despite his doubts. "So who can go?"
"Ah. You're beginning to realize how rare this offer is. The answer to your question, of course, is the fit. The smart. The committed. The daring. And the dissatisfied. The ones to whom ordinary life is for some reason not enough. The oddballs, the misfits. Do you recognize yourself yet?"
Daniel said nothing.
"You go only with what you can carry on your back. Maps are prohibited. So is any weapon beyond a knife. You can take electronic devices, but only receivers: take your solar-cell TV, if you must, but leave your satellite phone at home. Our promise is that if you go, you won't know exactly where on the continent you are. Or precisely where you're going. Or how long it will take. You'll be as blind as Columbus, as bold as Magellan. No other adventure company offers such realistic challenge. We guarantee it!"
"A year's salary for that?"
"Listen to me. Everest is old, routine. You know that. The Sahara has become a holiday junket. Both Poles have resort hotels. Every river has been rafted and every reef has been dived. There's only one place of mystery left on earth: Outback Adventure's Australia. That's what the money is for, Daniel: the ultimate challenge of the ultimate wilderness. You bet it costs dearly! You have to want it so bad you can taste it! Because that's the only kind of person who can make it there."
He took a breath. He could taste it. "How does it work?"
"We have a meeting where you'll meet your fellow adventurers. Many decide to go in groups, something we recommend to both enhance your own survival chances and lower our transportation costs. We give you training. We have experts on the continent and books or tapes you can review on its ecology and geology. You'll go prepared. We'll give you a list of suggested equipment but it's up to you to prepare and equip yourself. You'll survive on your brain and your back. You make your preparations, train for six weeks, wait, and then we call without warning to inform you it's time to come to the Departure Port. Ready or not, here you go: we feel that edge adds to the experience, and weeds out the last few with secret doubts. You quietly quit your job in advance- don't worry, come back and you'll be wanted for something special- and fly to Departure. All volunteers are drugged to sleep for shipping."
"Like export cargo."
"Exactly. We transport you at night to a point somewhere in the continent's interior and set you down to awaken at dawn. Your goal is to trek to Australia's east coast and find its exit port, Exodus. Then you return to United Corporations' world, renewed and toughened. An eighteenth-century man of action in a twenty-first-century world! Survive this and you can kick corporate butt anywhere you go. But you have to survive it. There's no hospital, no rescue, no emergency food or water. We don't come get you. You're on your own."
"Jesus." He drummed his fingers, a nervous habit. "What's the risk?"
Coyle pushed a button of the chair-file under his cushion. Liability forms slid out of a desk chute and he plunked them in front of Dyson with a thump. "Some people don't make it. A lot of people, actually." He nodded as Daniel's brows lifted. "The risk is higher than high-altitude climbing. Sky diving. Hang gliding. Free diving. You name it. This is the riskiest thing on earth. And yet competition to participate is fierce. Only risking life, after all, makes you feel truly alive."
"Worse than climbing?"
"Worse than many wars."
He took a breath. "All right, Elliott. Have you done this?"
Coyle looked at Daniel a long time without expression. "Yes. Once."
"And survived."
Coyle smiled thinly. "Living proof."
"And were you transformed?"
The counselor had a faraway look in his eyes. "Oh yes."
"And now?"
"I became a believer, Daniel. A convert. An apostle. So now I'm employed explaining all this to people like you. That's what I wanted to do when I got back. It was what I was put on earth to do, I'm sure of it."
"And you recommend it?"
"No. Never. It's so hard that I just give you a choice. You have to choose yourself. It's the choice that determines whether you're ready to go."
"How many choose not to? Don't they spill your secret?"
He smiled. "Frankly, few who learn this much turn us down. We're careful what we reveal, to who. Those who do
say no recognize the need for discretion. We explain it to them."
"So I can walk out of here right now?"
"Absolutely. And I'd understand perfectly. I wouldn't go now. I've got a wife, kids. I'm too old now, too soft, too content. I like this world. That's what I learned in the Outback. So I'll shake your hand and pat you on the back if you want to quit right now." He waited.
"Quite the salesman, aren't you?" Dyson picked up the liability forms and examined them. Leave his job? Give up his savings? Go wander in the desert and maybe die out there? Was he that crazy? That unhappy? That unfulfilled?
"Don't go unless you're absolutely sure, Daniel. Don't go unless you need to find something you can't find here."
He thought of Raven. "Like why do I do?"
"Yes. Like that."
He took a breath. "Got a pen?"
Coyle handed him one.
Daniel looked at it, rotating in his fingers. Are you brave? Dr. Chen had asked. I've never had to find out.
He bent to sign his name.
"I want to test myself."
CHAPTER EIGHT
"You've given notice?" Sanford asked, mystified.
"Quitting," Daniel confirmed to his workmate. "You have to keep quiet about it until after I'm gone."
"They're just letting you go?"
Indeed they were, Daniel thought. Luther Cox had expressed neither surprise nor interest at the news: I hope it's for the best, he'd said remotely. We'll fill in for you whenever they call. "Didn't even feign regret, I'm afraid."
"But why?"
Why do you do? Daniel thought to himself. Because it committed himself. Because it cut his ties. Go, go, go. "I'm going away," he replied.
"An opportunities transfer?"
"I'm going to the wilderness, Sanford. Taking a break from the routine."
"You're quitting your job to go on vacation?"
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