He gave James’ shoulders a visible squeeze before releasing him and speaking again to the room, especially to those who had overheard their conversation.
“This isn't just a theory, ladies and gentlemen, nor will we be working on our own. Nature itself agrees with us. Nature itself is crying out for the manifestation of a population it can affectionately support. Even now she is releasing her latest tactic, the Rigula virus. It is nothing but a demonstration of her struggle to save herself from destruction. And we will help her. We will help her and go on to help build up a new, healthy society. Among other things, we’ll create a streamlined workforce; new opportunities for greater profit margins while wasting fewer resources; we’ll abolish poverty, abandon war, and obtain harmony for all.
“This is the future. This is what we have to get the delegates at the International Summit to see. And if you help me work for it, soon, this will be a room full of kings — of Emperors.”
Chapter 51
Besieged by a new turmoil of emotions, James eased his way from the crowd and slipped out of a side door unnoticed…he thought. But the sharp click of swift heels alerted him to a tail. Instead of turning around to acknowledge her presence, James simply slowed his gait, allowing her to catch up.
“You shouldn’t have argued,” Cyndi chided as she came up alongside him.
“I wasn’t arguing.” James’ tone was gruff. “I was explaining.”
“Same difference. You should know by now that keeping your mouth shut is an important skill around here.”
“Cyndi,” James halted in mid-stride. “Can you honestly tell me that every cell of your being is okay with this? Is there nothing inside of you whispering that, maybe, this is going too far? I mean, most of the world still criticizes China for its One-Child Policy; and what he’s talking about in there goes way beyond that. We’re talking about altering people’s rights as human beings.”
Surprisingly, Cyndi responded with a thoughtful look. At least, she was taking him seriously. Or so he assumed. The truth, however, was that her contemplative state was not due to what he was saying, but how she was going to respond. Maximos had made it clear to her from the beginning that she was to be James’ handler (unknowingly to him); and this outburst from his conscience, if left unchecked, was going to get her into trouble. She needed to rein him in, and fast. He was obviously distressed, but trying to argue him out of it would just be adding fuel to the fire. No. She had to take a different approach. Trying to assert her authority over him to force him to let it go would only make him grip tighter, but maybe she could ease his concerns away…
“James.” She flashed him an understanding smile and placed her hand on his arm as she started up their walking pace again. “You're focusing on the wrong things. What’s important is that you are doing your job, and doing it well. Once your work gets to Maximos’ desk, it’s out of your hands. You don’t need to burden yourself with trying to take up responsibilities that are not assigned to you. Focus on your work, and don’t worry about the rest. Besides, voicing your thoughts to the boss in a room full of other employees is not really the best way to go about anything, no matter what your motives are. Trust me, if you really want to get through to Maximos, continue to impress him. Let him know how important you deem your work and how important the success of this company is to you. You know…” She casually lowered her hand down his arm to rest in the crook of his elbow. James noticed this with dread and instinctively bent to accommodate her. “You could impress him all the more by taking charge of the Middle East. Start forming reports in the same manner as your Sub-Saharan ones.”
“Shouldn’t I actually wait for a promotion before I start a new run?” he answered rather sarcastically. He could feel his stress level rising at Cyndi’s imposed familiarity with him. Short of pushing her away and running down the hall, which would, no doubt, cost him his job, there was nothing he could do; and he was getting tired of the strain of trying to refuse her. In a signal of defeat, he released some tension from his arm; Cyndi smiled and wrapped her delicate red-nailed hand tighter around its perch.
“A promotion?” she purred. “What do you think just happened in there, hmm? Maximos is clearly exhilarated with your work. It’s not every day he praises someone in front of a group of other execs. Keep it up, James.”
A loud buzz in his pocket pulled both of their attention from their chat. James quickly checked the phone. It was Sarah. Without thinking, he automatically sent the call to voicemail; a moment later, a surge of guilt washed through him. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her. He just didn’t know what to say, he told himself; it had nothing to do with the other whispers in his mind: that he didn’t deserve to talk to her, not after what he had done. And anyway, he remonstrated, with Cyndi having before made it completely clear that his personal life was not appropriate in her professional presence, he felt it was important, now more than ever, to adhere to her wishes.
Chapter 52
Hi, you’ve reached James Mode of Global Economic Dynamics. I am unable to take your call at this time. If you will leave your name and number I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you.
*Beep*
Hi, it’s me. It’s been a few days since you called. I know you’re busy, but I just wanted you to know I’ve been thinking about you. Tolu and I miss you and are keeping you in our prayers. I, uh…I had another one of those strange dreams again. The one with the rabbi? Only you were in it this time. I called out to you, but you couldn’t hear me…Anyway, it was just a dream, but when I woke up I felt—
I’m sorry, your message has reached the maximum limit. If you wish to re-record your message, press 3.
*Click*
Chapter 53
Hi, you’ve reached James Mode of Glo—
Sarah hung up the phone without leaving a message, all the while wondering if her husband had even gotten the one she’d left for him a couple of days ago. He was sending her calls to voicemail so quickly these days, so she knew he was there…he knew she was trying to call him. Taking a deep breath, she worked hard to suppress the emotions threatening to overwhelm her, the fears that whispered to her. James was a busy man with an important job, and he had spoken to her about his manager’s “request” not to take personal calls while working. But was that even reasonable? Did his manager have the moral right to keep turning their lives upside down…to keep pulling their family apart? In the beginning, the reason they had agreed for James to take the London job was so that he could stop traveling often and they could be together. The position that GED had originally offered him had been pitched as an attractive 9-5, 5-days-a-week gig; it offered satisfying work that James had an aptitude for and a paycheck that would secure the family’s needs. But things had quickly slid way out of control, and Sarah didn’t even know what was going on anymore; and she felt like she was losing him. Having been whisked away to Brussels on an assignment which seemed to never end, James was in a different world…a world she couldn’t reach. And, she realized with some pain, it didn’t seem like he wanted to be reached. But was she being selfish? She backtracked from the stifling thoughts. It wasn’t as if she really had anything important to talk to him about, no emergencies. She just wanted to hear his voice, just wanted to chat with her best friend. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it? Or was it?
Heavenly Father, please show me how to apply your peace and wisdom to this situation, she silently prayed as she walked to the small vending area down the hall. I don’t know what to do.
She was slipping her quarters into the vending machine for a juice when she spotted a newspaper on a table. It looked used and dotted with grease spots and crumbs—perhaps someone had poured out a bag of chips on it—but the date attested to its being printed just last week. On the front page, the headline reached out to snag her; and she felt her stomach involuntary curl at the accompanying photograph below it.
GED TAKES ON THE VIRUS
Global Economic Dynamics to join the fight against deadly Rigula
virus with newly announced “Inoculation Initiative.”
She stared at GED’s smiling billionaire CEO and found she could not do so for very long. There was something about his grin - something about those captivating eyes - that made her feel uncomfortable. Perhaps, she was just biased, or maybe even jealous.
Moving her gaze from the photo, she scanned the rest of the article. It started by reiterating the damage done by the virus so far—“Over one hundred thousand dead across South America”—then rehearsed how several containment plans supervised by both the CDC of the United States and WHO have continued to fail. But apparently, GED—which, curiously enough, was a financial business, not a health one—was able to pour in enough funding to a few select labs and gain an output of a “Rigula virus Deterrent” which they were now also funding to be distributed and administered to countries around the world. The article went on to declare that many long-established, First World countries were having the most difficulty in accepting the vaccine, as their own governments had too much red tape in place. The European Union, China and America were being particularly fussy about agreeing to take part in the initiative, while Central and South America, almost all of Africa, and most of Southeast Asia had already jumped on board.
Sarah stopped reading, and looked over at the back of her hand which was resting on the table. The small mound of her microbit was barely visible. She thought back to the day she and Tolu had been injected with them, and how the nurse had told Tolu that they would keep diseases out of their bodies. Though she had never doubted that, and had no cause to, since she and Tolu hadn’t had so much as a cold since they’d gotten the implants, she still wondered if whatever was in there would be strong enough to go against this strange virus. So many people were dying; so many families were being ripped apart.
Reading the story made her feel a little ashamed. James’ work with GED was very important. It was helping people, helping the world. And she should be helping him do it by encouraging, not complaining. As she made her way back to the lab, Sarah resolved to do better for him—to work to be stronger in their relationship. After all, she had always admired his compassion for helping those in need or in dangerous situations; and, thankfully, the Mode family was not in any of those.
Chapter 54
James’ stomach clenched with guilt whenever he thought about going home, and was somewhat secretly relieved that his new work assignments were making that option virtually impossible at the moment. On the other hand, he also regretted having to put Sarah through the same routine each time he called her. No, he didn’t know when he’d get some time off. Yes, he’d try to set some time aside. No, he couldn’t promise anything had been the basic makeup of their last several, short conversations. The disappointment in her tone was strong, and he was sorry it was so. But there was nothing he could do about it short of quitting the job and giving up on everything he was working toward. She just wasn’t able to understand what they were trying to achieve here, how little time they had to work with, and how vital his role was to the whole operation—at least, that was what he told himself every time he got off the phone as a way to justify his frustration. But there was another reason, of course—the real reason he wasn’t ready to go home, a reason which, though he never allowed himself to consciously acknowledge, was always slowly burning in the back of his mind. As much as he had been determined to stay away from Cyndi on a personal level, he had found that his resolve utterly crumbled against her incessant persuasion. She had been just as determined to have her way—to have him. It got to the point where to keep refusing her would mean the end of his career. In the end, he had given up resisting and, in return, found himself in a situation which, all things accounted for, wasn’t as terrible as it’s usually chalked up to be. For one thing, no one was getting hurt. And for another, for some strange reason, he couldn’t identify (though it was probably because he had less stress since he decided to quit trying to resist her, he told himself) his work had been improving on a noticeable scale. This was proven one morning when he was suddenly assigned a new, out-of-the-ordinary task. Up till now, he had been drudging away at desk work—researching, analyzing, and writing reports. But yesterday morning, Cyndi had had his driver take him to the airport instead of bringing him to headquarters.
“We feel it’s time for you to stretch your executive legs,” she had told him over the phone while the plane was getting ready for take-off. “Get you away from the desk and into the field.”
“Where exactly am I going?” James had asked her.
“To the Republic of Mote, West Africa. There’s still a lot to be done if we want to get our Union in place before World War III.”
“And when exactly is that scheduled for?” James asked in a light tone, though a part of his subconscious wondered if that was such a far-fetched idea.
“Not this week,” she said. He could hear a smile playing on her lips. Their conversation had continued until after take-off; and she had called again several times during the long flight under the guise of filling him in on things important to the success of his first solo meeting for GED, but always making sure to ask how he was and if he needed anything in that low, sly voice of hers he was coming to know well.
James’ plane touched down late, and he was taken to a rather luxurious hotel to sleep and freshen up before being driven to the Republic of Mote’s Capitol Building the next morning for his meeting with several government officials.
Now, seated in the back of a chauffeured-vehicle—which was grand enough to properly host a foreign ambassador much less a simple business executive from GED—James recalled snippets of Cyndi’s instructions from their talks the day before:
“You’ve got to close this deal fast, James. The International Monetary Fund is poised to seize the country’s natural resources for defaulting on the loans to them. As you know, our bail-out banks will buy the loans off the IMF, as we did in your country. But first the Republic of Mote has to agree to get out from under the IMF’s thumb…”
Honk! Honk!
The driver pushed the horn as he slowed to a stop in the road.
“Sorry, sir. It looks like the traffic is backed up.”
James looked down at his watch.
“But don’t worry, don’t worry.” The driver spoke quickly as he threw the car into reverse and backed up several feet before another car blocked them in. “I know another way.”
They headed down a side street which immediately transformed from a commerce atmosphere to residential. There were high walls and sturdy gates surrounding these homes; their pleated rooftops dressed in the leaves of closely-growing trees barely peeking over the tall barriers. It took one blink, maybe two, for the outside scene to change again. The cement walls and iron gates melted away, leaving a new level of homes exposed. And as they continued driving down the street, James felt his stomach drop with each block. The houses became denser, dirtier and decrepit. More and more thin, curious faces glanced up to look at the expensive automobile gliding down the street. Starting to feel embarrassed by the stares, James sat back in his seat as far as he could and tried not to look out through the windows.
“Mismanagement and corruption brought the economy to the brink of collapsing.” Cyndi’s voice started up again in his head. “The IMF and the World Bank want their money back. We have decided to buy the national manufacturing plant and the infrastructures.”
‘And who is GED going to hire to work in those plants?’ came a cross-examining thought from the back of James’ mind. The buy-out would certainly save face for the government, but what about the actual people?
“Although we will officially own the industries,” answered the memory, “the gain we make should trickle down to the nation, secure employment for workers, and maintain the GNP, which allows them to retain credit rating.”
It all made sense. It all looked good on paper. It all worked in theory. But still…
Thump!
James jumped as a small hand holding a dirty
rag landed on one of the back windows and began smearing the dust on the car back and forth. There was a quick pause and a splash of water before the rag again resumed its task. Suddenly, a little face peeked in through the glass and smiled wide at James. Two teeth were missing out of the little girl’s grin; James placed her at being around nine or ten years old—about Tolu’s age. He noticed her grimy palm stretched out to him, asking for a reward for her work. Feeling spurred by compassion for her dirt-streaked but beautiful face, James began digging in his pocket for a coin. Before he found one, however, the front door of the car lurched open and the driver jumped out.
“Get away! Away!” He yelled at the girl, waving his hands to shoo her.
Seeming to be used to the routine, the young girl insolently stuck out her pink tongue at the driver before zipping down the street.
“Wait!” James had thrown open his door and got out. The girl turned and he waved her back.
“Sir, may I insist you get back in the car. It is not safe here,” said the driver glancing at the people lining the street as if they had just turned into hungry lions. But James shrugged off the words as the little girl stopped in front of him, her bright, curious eyes looking up at his face. She held out her hand expectantly, and James tucked a £1 coin into her palm. The smile on her face brightened to a new level.
“Sir, please.” The driver’s voice was close to almost being frantic.
James patted the girl’s head gently before saying “Goodbye” in his own tongue. Even if she didn’t understand the word, she understood the gesture and raced away without looking back. James got back into the car, smiling to himself. After readjusting his cap and eyeing the crowd, the driver resumed his seat as well and slammed the door shut a little harder than would be deemed professional. “We will be back onto pleasanter roads in only a moment or two,” he said briskly.
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