The Unincorporated Man

by Dani Kollin; Eytan Kollin

  “But that’s crazy,” said Advertising. “That sort of thinking will lead us right back to a Grand Collapse.”

  “That ‘sort of thinking,’ ladies and gentlemen of the board,” said Hektor, “is Justin Cord’s sort of thinking. He believes it so passionately and so completely that he’s somehow managed to ignite that belief in Sean Doogle, and in turn this Doogle has ignited it in others.”

  “Mr. Sambianco,” interjected Legal, “if you believe this, why not follow DepDir’s suggestion of simply killing Mr. Cord and,” she added, with the implicit desire to show she’d chosen sides, “doing a better job of it?”

  The pin had dropped. Eyes shifted. Still, no one uttered a word.

  “It would,” continued Legal, “be like destroying a lighter after a child has lit an accidental fire. The fire will still burn, but without the lighter no more fires will get started.”

  “Exactly!” exclaimed Kirk.

  “Not quite,” answered Hektor, cutting off the DepDir. “It’s been a long time since anyone has had to deal with an underground movement, but please trust me when I tell you, the last thing anyone wants is for Justin Cord to be killed. He’ll become a martyr to the cause of unincorporation. To respond to Legal’s analogy, Justin is not a lighter but a fully loaded flamethrower. If he’s destroyed, like a flamethrower he’ll cause far more damage than if left alone. In short, it is my humble opinion that he be isolated and, hopefully, as a result be made less volatile.”

  “So how do you ‘humbly’ propose,” Kirk asked, “to make this supremely dangerous man less dangerous?”

  Hektor smiled inwardly. Gotcha. “We have to make him incorporate.”

  “We tried that and failed,” snapped Kirk.

  “No, sir, you tried that and failed,” he said, not bothering to mask his contempt. “Now we’ll have to get some help from a different source to neutralize Justin Cord.”

  “How about his girlfriend?” suggested Legal. “She could be pressured; we do have majority control of her stock.”

  “Only as a last resort,” answer Hektor. “No, I think we should turn to the one place no one turns to anymore.” Hektor waited until they were all leaning forward in their seats.

  “The government.”

  Kirk was about to lay into Hektor when the whole room noticed that the red light in the table’s center had come on. Only one voice was heard, but everyone was instantly at attention.

  “Mr. Sambianco, Mr. Olmstead, will you please come up to my office?” The voice cut out. But everyone understood the implications of The Chairman addressing Hektor first and, more specifically, not using Kirk Olmstead’s given title. After the two men exited the room, Accounting called for a vote to be sent to The Chairman calling for Kirk Olmstead’s removal from the board. It was seconded, passed, and sent to The Chairman before Hektor and Kirk cleared the new security procedures. They did not dare to suggest a replacement, but most of the board already had “buy” orders on whatever was left of Hektor Sambianco’s stock.

  The One Free Man has shown us the way. We are not free. The moment we are born we lose 25 percent of all that we will ever make. By the time most of us can make meaningful choices about the course of our lives we are lucky to have majority. Most of us don’t even have that. By that time we are brainwashed by a lifetime of programming that we need to sell more of our invaluable freedom for training, education, advancement, and meaningless, superficial toys. We are told what jobs to work and where to live. We are encouraged to marry the persons most economically suited for us—and this is freedom? They say we are free to choose, but how many choices do we have left by the time the incorporated world is done with us? But the One Free Man does not submit, does not surrender. He is free! We, too, can be free! Follow the Liberty Party into Revolution. Follow the One Free Man!

  —ILLEGAL POSTING ON THE NEURO ATTRIBUTED TO SEAN DOOGLE

  Hektor had been made the DepDir of Special Operations. There were many people who wanted to see him, but he had debts to pay. His first action was to visit the V.P. of Accounting . . . in her office. It was a sign of respect that put the powerful board member at ease and cost Hektor little. The other members of the board did not rate as highly, but one of them, Legal, was waiting for him on his return from Accounting’s office. He didn’t make the mistake of lording his power by making her wait. The fact that she was there was enough. He put his arm around her and escorted her into his new office.

  “Congratulations, Hektor.”

  “Thank you, Janet, and have a seat. Make yourself at home. I imagine we’ll be spending a lot of time together.”

  Janet decided to cut to the chase. “We have no standing to take Justin Cord to court.”

  “In that you’re correct, my dear.” He pulled a cigar from his drawer and placed it gingerly on his desk. “We don’t, but the government does.”

  “The government,” she repeated. “That’s what you were beginning to say in the board meeting. But what gives them standing?”

  “You’re the head of Legal, you tell me.” Hektor snipped his cigar, sat back in his big comfortable chair, and lit up.

  Janet got up and paced, her brow furrowed in thought. This was her preferred way of thinking about a problem. She stopped. “I don’t believe it. How could I have missed that?”

  “Well,” suggested Hektor, “sit down and tell me all about it.”

  Janet sat down across from Hektor. “The 5 percent. He even used a government court in the first trial, so the government could claim damages. Sweet Damsah, that’s brilliant.” Janet looked at Hektor, worried about her job.

  As if reading her mind, Hektor said, “I don’t want your job, Janet. I’m happy with the one I’ve got, thank you. You shouldn’t worry about not thinking about it, either. It was just one of those things that’s in plain sight but managed to elude everyone. Like looking for your DijAssist even though it is in your hand.”

  “But you saw it.”

  “Yeah, but my job depends on such things and, I might add, if I am going to keep it Justin needs to incorporate. That’s where you come in.”

  Janet folded her arms. “What’s the plan?”

  “I’ve arranged a meeting with the attorney general of the federation. Day after tomorrow for the both of us in Geneva. Before that meeting we need a brief we can hand her concerning the government’s standing vis-à-vis Mr. Cord. You will need all precedents, rulings, laws, and amendments in the brief. Be complete, but keep it simple; this is the government we’re talking about. We will, of course, offer all the assistance the government will need.”

  “You want this kept secret, I take it.”

  “Hell, no, I already leaked the meeting time to the press. While we’re meeting the attorney general, the contents of the brief will be leaked out. I just hope nobody in the government gets this idea on their own.”

  Janet’s mouth twisted into a doubtful frown. “Why’s it so important to let everyone know it’s our idea? He either incorporates or he doesn’t. Isn’t that the end we wish to achieve?”

  “Because,” answered Hektor, blowing a smoke ring high into the air, “the former occupant of this chair is correct. We are GCI, and the public has to know that we’re doing something about the threat that Justin Cord poses to society. I’m also going to go on the Neuro and start to counter some of the Liberty Party pap that this Doogle maniac has been posting.”

  “You cleared this with The Chairman?”

  “I’m sitting in this chair, aren’t I? One more thing, Janet . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “We can get Justin through Neela.”

  “Care to be more specific?”

  “Specifically, go after her family, friends, and job. In fact,” he said, “from now on it’s your job to make her feel the pressure. We’ll dial it up as need be.”

  Janet knew better than to argue. “I have what I need to get started,” she said, getting up to dismiss herself, “and thanks.”

  “For what?” asked Hektor.
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  “For believing in me. Your predecessor never did.”

  Hektor nodded in acknowledgment, quietly thinking, And it cost him.

  An hour later Hektor’s new secretary informed him that Kirk Olmstead was waiting outside the door. Hektor could have made him wait, but that seemed petty. He had the secretary send him right in. Kirk was a wreck. He’d clearly been following his portfolio.

  “Let’s get this over with, Sambianco.”

  Hektor didn’t bother getting up. “We still need a corporate rep out in the Oort Cloud. You’ve been selected.”

  “That’s not very original.”

  “Kirk, if it’s a good idea, why let it go to waste? You’d make a fine rep, and the position is available. But if originality is of concern to you, I am having you shipped off immediately. When you leave this office two security guards will take you to the orport. Don’t worry about your possessions. Whatever you wish will be shipped out to you at company expense.” Hektor’s lips drew back in a churlish grin.

  Kirk smiled back. “Enjoying your revenge, Sambianco?”

  “Kirk, this is not revenge. This is security. I thought about it, and if it would’ve been safer and better for me to have you around, you can bet I would have arranged for you to stay. I just think my job’ll be more secure with you out on the edge of nowhere. So, please believe me, this is not about revenge. It’s about Cord. The Unincorporated Man needs to be destroyed. You failed. I won’t.”

  “Nothing I can do to change this?” asked Kirk, with as much dignity as he could muster.

  Hektor’s reply came in the form of another perfect O ring blown high into the air. The office door opened, revealing two burly guards. Kirk did an about-face and left without saying another word.

  It took an hour for Kirk to transfer from the beanstalk to the GCI space station. Ten minutes later he was on a connecting flight to the Moon. And from lunar orbit he was able to find a ship heading out to the Oort Cloud. As he was getting into his small and depressingly utilitarian cabin his DijAssist chirped with an urgent message from GCI. Hope flared brightly in Kirk’s heart that he might be reprieved in the same way Hektor had been. The message was short and to the point. It read:

  I now personally possess 51 percent of your portfolio.

  Over half of all you labor for is mine.

  Remember that when the hours are long and lonely.

  Hektor Sambianco

  P.S. That’s revenge.

  _______

  What sort of freedom does the Liberty Party offer? The last time Justin Cord’s freedom and Sean Doogle’s freedom existed in the world, the human race nearly died. Mr. Doogle wants to give you equality of outcome. The old world tried that, and we got the Grand Collapse. Our world has freedom and equality. The glorious equality of opportunity is what is offered. The Chairman started out in the penny stocks, but if you look at him now you see a man who has risen to the top of the system. I’m sorry that Mr. Doogle so hates our system that he will kill and destroy to end it, but our system works. His never did.

  —“IN REBUTTAL,” HEKTOR SAMBIANCO, DEPUTY DIRECTOROF SPECIAL OPERATIONS, GCI

  Justin still had the mediabots following him wherever he went, but the crowds had definitely thinned out. The questions had changed as well. Gone were the “Who are you dating? Are you hetero, homo, or bi?” or “Where are you going to live permanently?” Now the questions were almost entirely of one theme. Over and over again Justin was assailed with “When will you incorporate?”

  This perfect society’s dark underbelly was beginning to manifest itself in many ways. When Justin found out about locator chips it only enforced his antipathy. He immediately began plans to produce a cheap product that would muffle the signal—an electronic version of wrapping a wet towel around a head. He would’ve begun building immediately except for the fact that all his friends were united in how bad an idea it seemed to be. Even so, he released the plans on the Neuro with sebastian’s help, and illegal “Justin Shields” started popping up all over the system. He still wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do but reasoned that at least he’d done something. The very idea that a person could be seen as property owned by a group of stockholders was alarming. The fact that all this “property” was, in effect, tagged made that prospect even more so. Everyone in the Terran Confederation, Justin learned, had a locator chip implanted at birth. It was a relatively harmless thing and almost never used. In the normal course of events a person’s location was recorded dozens of times a day by all sorts of devices, from the obvious (such as security cameras) to the not so obvious (such as coupon marketing). But if a person disappeared, their stockholders could request an “asset search,” which meant they turned on the chip and hunted the “asset” down. Justin had to admit that after researching the instances of chip activation, almost all were overwhelmingly used for very appropriate reasons that not only could he find no fault in, but, in most cases, had to commend. Still, it was with horror that Justin had found out that he, too, had a nanoresistant chip implanted—as a matter of procedure—upon reanimation. It had taken all of his will not to grab a knife and cut it out himself. He’d even had trouble convincing a doctor to remove the chip (and not replace it with another). He would have preferred to have it handled by Dr. Wang at the Boulder Medical Center, but all GCI facilities and personnel were now off-limits to him. Mosh and Eleanor still visited, but far less frequently now. If not for the contract that Neela had signed, Justin would probably not be able to see her as well . . . except on a personal basis, which, of course, would’ve been even more problematic. And even that would depend on whether GCI kept Neela in Boulder, or even on Earth, for that matter. Yet another reason to loathe incorporation. He had come to love Neela Harper, and the knowledge that she could be taken away from him for no apparent rhyme or reason made his blood boil. He’d even, in a moment of rage, considered joining Sean Doogle. But he’d remembered just what Sean Doogle was—a murderer many times over—and quickly retreated from that idea.

  Justin’s hopes of finding a future world that could cure him had been realized. He’d hoped that such a world would be better than the one he’d left behind, and by all measurable standards it was. He’d hoped to be a part of that world and contribute to it. But he was not, because he refused to buy into the incorporated system. He had, instead, become a pariah. The only real contribution he seemed to have made was latent discord and fear. He pondered the ramifications of his emergence over and over again, until his head felt as if it would burst. He did not see how his need for his own personal freedom could be so dangerous to an entire society. But he knew what he had to do. He would be the uncomfortable thought. That thing that you forgot but knew was important. He would make them realize what they’d lost and help them find it again. Then he would marry Neela, find a hole, and never come out again. His surly mood was interrupted by a call from his lawyer.

  “Justin, I’m glad I caught you at home. Do me a favor and do not answer any calls, and do not look out your window until I get there.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I think I now know what GCI gave the feds at Geneva two days ago.”

  “I thought you said it was the basis for another GCI lawsuit?”

  “Just wait until I get there.” Manny disconnected.

  It took two hours for the unorthodox lawyer to arrive. In that time Justin did get an unusual number of calls, as well as three people coming to his apartment personally. These occurrences should have been impossible, given that none of them were on his most favored list. In an odd sort of way he was glad to see that the power of bribery was still working in the present day. When Manny showed up, he seemed positively glowing.

  “Justin, it’s wonderful, it’s brilliant. If I say so myself it will go down as one of the great legal moves of the century.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Manny. For a while there I thought I was in serious trouble.”

  “Oh, you are, my friend. I’m talking about what they�
�re planning to do to you.”

  “Get up and plug it in,” Justin ordered. Omad was holding a fan and a plug in his hand and didn’t seem to know what to do with either.

  “What do you mean by ‘plug it’?” he asked.

  Justin sighed, got up from his chair, and took the plug to the specially installed wall socket and inserted it. He turned it on. “You see, it’s not that hard.”

  “All this just to blow the air around. Justin, I can understand the retro look, but couldn’t you lose the wire? We have beamed power, you know.”

  “It just wouldn’t be the same.”

  “You need to live in one of those historical preservation towns, Justy. You don’t fit in here in New York.”

  Justin sighed. “I don’t fit in anywhere, Omad.”

  Manny emerged from the kitchen.

  “Where should I go?” he asked

  “Dining room,” said Omad, still sparing a moment to look dubiously at the rotating fan. Manny ignored him and went into the dining room, where Mosh, Eleanor, and Dr. Gillette were sitting around a large conference table just big enough to accommodate the guests. Neela was not at the meeting. She’d been called to Pittsburgh to help her parents, who were currently embroiled in an audit on what everyone assumed to be the trumped-up charge of withholding profit from stockholders.