by P. F. White
“What, like making a better search engine or something?”
“Not exactly. See, when the incident happened: we at the com lab started a protocol- a highly advanced protocol that I developed to download the Internet in case it should go down either semi-permanently or permanently.”
Hank laughed.
“So...you are saying that when society began to collapse you immediately went to download a lot of porn? Smart.”
Phil couldn't help but crack a smile, even if he had heard the joke before.
“Well, not just porn, you know. I'm sure you are aware we have had a few fairly complete libraries of music, art, books, movies and all sorts of other things here right?”
“I most certainly am. That was you?”
Phil smiled.
“Not just me, but I did help write some of the code for getting it.”
“Well, you did a great job. I've been watching some fantastic movies I had no idea were even-”
“Daaaad!” complained Claire, “Can't I go?”
Hank looked apologetic at Phil.
“Sorry, about that,” he looked back at Claire, “A few minutes sitting here won't do you any harm sweetie. I want to hear Phil out.”
Claire sighed and rolled her eyes but stayed silent. Phil glanced at her, then back at Hank. He decided to begin again.
“Well, the downloading protocols were more of a day-job really. The first communications between the towers was my passion project. I've been a part of nearly every aspect of the hard lines. My name is even on the initial proposal. I've been just waiting for the day we finally got to use them for-”
“Jesus!” said Hank. He shook his head, “Oh my god. I am so sorry! When Claire told me about everything she made it sound like you were just miffed she disobeyed a few meaningless protocols-”
“She did disobey a few protocols,” clarified Phil quickly, “Protocols that were in place for a good reason. I don't think-”
“So why was she there?” asked Hank, “And sorry for interrupting again. Like I said: bad habit.”
Phil thought for a second.
“I guess because she helped out on the pulse project- the one to clear the moisture or whatever it was, and allow communication between the towers again.”
Hank nodded.
“That sounds like a pretty good reason...and did she help?”
Phil shrugged.
“I believe so. I don't know as I wasn't actually a part in the design process, but from what I hear she did add valuable insight into the maths-”
“So that was why she was there? When you communicated I mean. It was kind of a test?”
“Yes,” said Phil with certainty, “She had earned her way into the room, and we weren't sure it would work anyway- but that doesn't mean-”
“Of course it doesn't,” agreed Hank. He looked at his daughter. “What you did was very rude you know. Did you have any idea that this man had dedicated so much time and energy to the project?”
Claire opened her mouth to protest, then shut it. She frowned and mumbled.
“Without our machine it wouldn't even-”
“Speak up young lady,” said Hank. Claire sighed.
“No. I didn't know.”
Hank nodded.
“So, it seems that what you told me wasn't exactly the truth was it?”
Claire glared but eventually nodded.
“I didn't know-”
“I realize that,” said Hank, “But you still unintentionally robbed this man of something important to him. I imagine he is here seeking redress for that. Am I right?” he said the last part to Phil, who hastily nodded.
“I was hoping to-”
“You had an idea for compensation?” asked Hank. He glanced at Claire, “I don't think she needs to be here for this. Hold on a second. Claire?”
“Yes daddy,” she said sarcastically.
“Do you recognize that you are at fault? Not completely, as you didn't know the circumstances, but you still did commit a hurtful act. Do you recognize this?”
She drew in a long breath, but eventually said: “I do.”
“Very well. Would you like to apologize?”
She let her breath out: “I would.”
“Very well, go ahead. Afterward you may leave so that Mr. Phil and I can discuss how you can make it up to him.”
Claire nodded. She stood up and extended her hand to Phil. He took it reluctantly and she looked him in the eye.
“I really am sorry,” she said, “I really didn't know it was so important to you. I didn't take the matter as seriously as it deserved. Sorry for that. Really.”
Phil found himself nodding and even smiling a little.
“I understand,” he said, “I- uh, I accept your apology.”
“Good,” said Hank, “Claire, you may be excused.”
Claire nodded and grabbed her pack before leaving. She didn't even slam the door. Hank leaned back after she was gone.
“Your sure I couldn't get you anything? A beer, a joint?”
“I would actually love a beer,” Phil found himself saying. It felt as though the real tension had left the room.
“Fantastic. One second.”
Hank went to the little mini-fridge and got out a couple of beers. It was hell trying to keep the tiny little fridge stocked, but it was still nice to have around. He handed Phil one and twisted the cap off of his as he sat down.
“So you had an idea on how she might make it up to you?”
Phil shrugged. Then he laughed.
“I was just going to ask you not to allow her into the Com room...but being as how that is actually my responsibility-”
“Were you going to ban her from it? I have a feeling that might just cause more tension,” said Hank. He sipped his beer. Phil shrugged.
“Yeah, I hadn't really thought of that. Or, you know, cared much to be honest.”
Hank nodded.
“I think about stuff like that a lot,” he said, “Shit, if every problem we have here ends up with each of us getting banned from something or another, and ends up with bad blood or grudges or whatever, we are very quickly going to run out of space.”
Phil shrugged again. There was a part of him that was still a little angry, that didn't care about what Hank said. That part wanted to simply insist that his way was the right way. However, in the fact of how reasonable Hank was being he felt that conviction waver. This wasn't a nameless customer over the phone, complaining to him about some useless thing or another...this was a person who would probably be in his life for years to come.
“She is actually pretty good with com stuff,” admitted Phil, “I just don't-”
“You don't want a repeat of the incident. I totally get that,” said Hank. He took another sip. So did Phil. A moment passed. Phil realized it was actually pretty strange to be sitting here drinking a beer with the man he had only moments ago been terrified of.
“How about this,” said Hank as he leaned forward, “How about we settle this with a little indentured servitude.”
Phil chuckled a little at the man's tone. Hank continued:
“I think that Claire likes the com lab- as much as her half dozen other projects anyway- but I also don't think she is really thinking about focusing on it- or anything else- in the foreseeable future. That is a problem for me. I want her to be a productive member of this society. I imagine, even if you haven't thought of it, that you would want something similar.”
Phil shrugged.
“I hadn't really thought of it actually. I don't have kids or-”
Hank waved that away.
“I know. Most people don't think about society as a whole, and why should they? Our lives are often hard enough, filled with all kinds of other concerns. Why should we think about what other people should be doing?...but that doesn't mean their actions don't affect us.”
He put his beer aside.
“Our old world had a lot of problems, Phil, and some of them stemmed from the idea that p
eople could operate independently and not as part of the greater whole,” he held up a hand, “Before you trot out the old warhorses of communism and rugged individualism, don't bother. I'm not talking about either of those. I'm talking about the very basic social agreement that simply states: I am a part of this society, therefore some part of society is also a part of me.”
Hank looked at Phil a little quizzically. Phil found himself sitting up straighter. Hank asked:
“Are you a part of this society?”
Phil said: “I guess so.”
“Well that is good enough for me. We don't exactly have the luxury of really leaving this society, for literal fear for our safety! That presents a problem, but at a very basic level: it should still be an issue of this society having more to offer than...well the world outside I guess. What Claire did was wrong and there is no question about that. However: to restrict her ability to produce for this society, be it by not allowing her access to a field she might be skilled at or something else, is fixing one wrong by committing another. It's essentially how we kept digging ourselves into a deeper grave with our old prison system.”
Phil nodded absently, he didn't know where this was going but he certainly hadn't prepared for it. Hank continued:
“Well, I don't want that to become the policy here. We don't have the population to start a little prison for all our crimes, nor would that really help us. Take it from an ex-con: it certainly didn't do any wonders before. It seems to me that Claire is getting pretty good at the com room stuff, and it seems like you have a lot of work that needs doing- didn't you mention something about downloading the Internet?”
Phil smiled.
“And cataloging it too.”
Hank nodded.
“Well then: for her crime of usurping your control I think that maybe it might be fair to simply have her spend some more time helping make things right with your department. If you like she doesn't have to even work there physically, but I can make certain she still helps your efforts to the best of her ability.”
Phil smiled, he liked the sound of that. He could really start to order her around and-
“Oh course,” said Hank, interrupting Phil's dreams of petty tyranny, “If I find that you are unfair to her in this endeavor, well, we are just going to have another problem aren't we?”
Phil swallowed. Right, he thought.
“We won't have a problem Mr. Fletcher,” he said.
Hank stood up and offered his hand.
“Good to hear. And it's Hank. Let's at least agree on that.”
“Hank it is.”
Phil stood up as well. He shook Hanks hand and the other man looked him in the eye.
“You let me know if there are anymore problems with Claire, and she will let me know if there are any problems with you. We keep everything honest and everything stays moving forward. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” said Phil without hesitation. Hank smiled.
“It's been nice to meet you,” he said. Phil nodded.
“Likewise.”
# # #
Adriana had fallen utterly in love with the rooftop garden.
Every day she got up early, preferably before the sun rose, and went up to the roof wearing a light dress and a bikini underneath. As long as there was no one around, and on most days there wasn't anyone until well after noon, she could immediately strip the dress off and spend a good few hours planting, tending, and simply admiring the beauty of the garden. It was peaceful, it was fulfilling, it was good and it made her feel productive. She didn't have any grand designs with the garden. She didn't think it really mattered all that much- though a few people had already spoken to her about the importance of keeping the traditional land-working skills alive (she always smiled politely but refused to comment when they said that. She wasn't actively trying anything of the sort. She simply wanted to have something to do.)
It was a good thing she did enjoy it so much though. One of the inevitable flaws within Nodencorp had been that the rooftop gardeners were part time employees contracted out in an “as needed” basis and, as such, weren't part of the permanent staff here now. Without Adrian the garden would have very quickly become overgrown and filled with weeds. It wasn't that there weren't plenty of admirers for the garden, or even potential gardeners...the problem, as it were, was that these people were all far too busy with their own gardens in windowsills, laboratories, or wherever they might make a space. They looked at it as a hobby, a diversion, and as such no one wanted to feel committed to such a large and complicated garden. Because of this: Adriana took the work upon herself.
She hadn't made any vast improvements in the few weeks she had started, but with the help of a few of the others she had made certain that no plant died from lack of attention. It wasn't much but, well, she supposed it would have to do. It also provided her with a measure of peace, calm, and daily routine. She also found unexpected new friends seeking her out, speaking to her about the garden, or responding to her queries on the company wide forums that they had gotten running again.
Adriana certainly hadn't started gardening to become popular, but now she found herself increasingly having lunch with other amateur gardeners, talking shop, and even becoming somewhat involved in their minor dramas. It reminded her a bit of college actually: the interests of diverse people bringing them together in a shy sort of enthusiasm. She loved it, and so did they. Before long she was receiving phone calls about certain people getting crushes on her husband (it was bound to happen, she reasoned,) others wanting permission to try out genetically modified fertilizers on her plants or add their own unique rose bushes to one of the more barren sections (she never said no to these requests, why should she? They all were going to learn together after all.) It made her feel good to become more connected to the greater community of the tower. Strangely: she even began to even think of the garden itself as hers and not belonging to the corporate entity in which she lived.
She wasn't alone in that sort of thought. Over the weeks she had noticed a distinct possessiveness begin to emerge from the survivors in the tower. These men and women took pride in their creations, their homes, and the tiny things they did to differentiate themselves from one another. Whatever task, or goal, they had set for themselves had suddenly ballooned up in terms of importance, and with it their sense of identity had grown. More than that, she thought, there was now actually the beginning of a real community in the tower. Her own case was far from unique: people were slowly starting to leave their floor, explore, and even mingle with those on other departments. They were beginning to form groups, social circles, and real lasting friendships. It was inevitable, said Hank, but still Adriana found the whole process slightly magical.
Some overbearing managers tried to reign in this behavior but Hank, lovable and intense Hank, had taken it upon himself to be a sort of counselor-policeman and take these men and women aside to find out exactly why they thought they could exercise such authority over people's personal lives. On two occasions things had gotten heated because of this, but both times the person had eventually calmed down and come under Hanks way of thinking.
Hank could be scary, thought Adriana, but he could also be sweet, understanding, and very very convincing. Already he was changing the very nature of their group captivity. Hank didn't want fiefdoms, he said, and he certainly didn't want kings. The idea of privilege had always irked Hank, which Adriana attributed at least in part to his never having attained any before in his life. He wasn't so much dismantling the existing corporate structure as he was simply ignoring it. Some managers were still fighting him on this, claiming they had rights and their underlings had responsibilities to them, but he made these petty tyrants into fools easily enough. To Hank: the corporate hierarchy simply didn't exist any more. He certainly had never been a part of it, though John had made a joke about officially interviewing him for a position with security.
Hank made a pretty compelling argument for his view as well: if the world as we know it is
over, and the old civilization of man is really gone...how can anything as fragile as a corporation live on? If anything: it would be people that made the transition. People like them.
Hank also hadn't had any trouble finding his own clique of friends and well wishers. Almost at once he had embedded himself with all sorts of free-thinkers, armchair philosophers, unorthodox economists, artists and anyone attracted to life as far out of the status-quo as possible. He would meet with these sorts at all hours. They hosted weekly discussions over wine and cheese, debating strange new ideas and policies. He personally met with managers, low level workers, and everyone in between almost constantly. He would turn a sympathetic ear to personal grievances when he was called for it, but it seemed his real talent lay in policy.