2100 AD: A Sly Pretense

by Tariq Saleim

  “Dad will be here tomorrow, I think,” said Izzy.

  “Yep, I am meeting him tomorrow morning,” replied the Commander.

  “Joshua, I sense good things coming our way.” She placed her hands over his. He smiled back and nodded.

  “I have that feeling too.”

  “Dad is expanding the governance structure. He is going to announce some changes in a few days. I hope there are good things in store for you and for us.”

  “The best part of my life is sitting across me,” said the Commander. He raised her right hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “I have everything I want right here.”

  “You deserve much more, my love.”

  Their romantic moment was briefly disturbed by the manager, who had opted to serve the food himself. He placed their hamburgers in front of them quickly and left.

  “Tomorrow, I am going to talk to him about us, again,” said the Commander. “I do not want to delay our marriage anymore. He has to give us his blessings.”

  “Marriage or not, I am yours anyway. What difference does it make?”

  “It does, to me.”

  “It is just so old-fashioned. Who gets married these days?”

  “I want to.”

  “I know.”

  The rest of the lunch was dedicated to planning their wedding, deciding on a venue, talking about guests, clothes, and the honeymoon. Joshua was more excited than she, but Izzy was happy for him. She just did not see the point of this circus called marriage. They were happy living together, when circumstances permitted, and nothing else mattered. Joshua wanted to have kids and she was OK with it, but there was no need to get married for having kids. No one cared for these customs from the era of savagery, when having kids out of wedlock was a taboo. Joshua was still old-fashioned in that sense. Some of his religious values had survived despite his hatred for religion and religious people. She had agreed to have kids, but Joshua wanted to wait until they were married. Izzy was surprised, but decided to let him have his way. There was no hurry. She was about the same age as Joshua, and there was enough time to raise kids.

  “Your father has done a big service to this world,” said the Commander, as they drove back to Izzy’s hospital. “We cannot thank him enough.”

  “What makes you say so at this precise moment?”

  “Driving through this flourishing metropolis, looking at these skyscrapers, I just cannot stop admiring your father’s vision.”

  “Why is this Sector so important?”

  “This Sector was at war for over two hundred years. Locals fought foreign invaders and drove them out. Once victorious, they started fighting with one another. Then they were invaded again by the foreigners. The locals united to fight the invaders and defeated them a second time. When the invaders left, the locals started fighting one another again. This Sector never really saw peace until Shaman took over. He killed every known religious cleric at that time, burned all books of religion and cultural messages. He reshaped the destiny of this nation. All this development has happened in the last ten years or so.”

  “Indeed impressive,” said Izzy. She knew all this, of course, but admired Joshua’s enthusiasm.

  “This Sector is now one of the largest manufacturers of recreational drugs in the UPF. Its massive poppy fields are under Militia’s protection—a trillion-dollar industry. This money flies back into this Sector’s economy; hence it is flourishing. People are happier than ever, free at last.”

  “Yep.”

  “In this Sector, men used to kill women for falling in love. They used to call it honor killings. Look at them now.” He pointed to a couple standing at the roadside and kissing. “They are free to choose and live life. No one is killing them now.”

  They reached Izzy’s hospital and Joshua dropped her in front of the reception area. The security guard saluted him again. Joshua nodded in response.

  “I will see you tonight,” said Izzy and kissed him good-bye.

  The Commander drove off and headed home, where he changed clothes and switched on the television. He surfed through channels, trying to find something of interest, but despite a wide choice of channels, he could not find anything to his liking. In reality, he was nervous and finding it difficult to concentrate. Tomorrow was a big day. He had not told Izzy, but the wedding was not the only thing worrying him. He was anxious about his career as well. Rumors were that Shaman was stepping down as head of Militia. He was also working on delegating several other portfolios and was crowning himself as the chairman of the UPF.

  The Commander was not worried about other portfolios, but Militia should go to him only. It would be an ideal situation to be married to Izzy, the chairman’s daughter, and be the CEO of Militia. What else could one ask for? The Commander was sure that he was Shaman’s first choice. Shaman was also aware of the Commander’s relationship with Izzy. My appointment helps Shaman as well, thought the Commander.

  When Izzy came home that night, he refrained from bringing this issue to her attention. They had dinner and she retired to bed. She was tired and wanted to sleep early. The Commander pretended to watch television, but later fell asleep on the couch. Izzy had to leave early the next morning. She woke him up at around seven, when she was leaving, and reminded him not to leave home without breakfast, and to call her as soon as his meeting with Shaman finished.

  ***

  At 9:30 a.m., the Commander waited outside Shaman’s office, which was situated in a military compound on the outskirts of the Sub-Sector. He had to wait for fifteen minutes before he was called. He took off his shoes before entering Shaman’s office. Shaman did not approve of people stepping on the carpet in his office with their huge military shoes. It destroyed the sanctity of the carpet, Shaman had explained. The Commander did not understand the man’s fixation with the carpet in his office. If it was ruined by shoes, military or otherwise, it could be replaced. This particular preference of Shaman’s was beyond comprehension. Nevertheless, the Commander had no intentions of disobeying the most influential man in the UPF, especially not today. Without giving it much thought, he entered Shaman’s office in his stockinged feet.

  Shaman was seated behind his desk. The only furniture in the room was a glass-topped desk and a stiff-backed chair, as was the case in every office of his across the UPF. A section of the desk—a built-in computer—was tilted toward Shaman. He was reading documents on it.

  Shaman followed a peculiar protocol for meetings in his office. Most of the time, he would remain seated and the other party would stand opposite his desk and talk. On rare occasions, he would leave his seat and stand with the people he was meeting. Even rarer were the occasions when he would invite them to sit on the floor, on his carpet, with him. Today was one of those rarest of rare occasions.

  “Commander, it is so good to see you,” said Shaman, in response to his subordinate’s salute.

  “It is an honor, sir.” The Commander stood at attention, chin up, and chest out.

  “At ease, Commander,” said Shaman and stood up from his chair. He walked to the Commander and touched his arm affectionately. “Come sit with me.” He lowered himself to the floor. “How is Izzy?”

  The Commander joined him. “Fine, sir.”

  “I have not seen her for several months.”

  The Commander nodded, fully aware of this.

  “I did speak to her a few days back—informed her I was coming here,” said Shaman. “I hope my schedule permits me to see her at least briefly before I leave.”

  Once again, the Commander nodded.

  “But I know she is happy with you. I feel blessed,” continued Shaman.

  All good so far, thought the Commander.

  “I have invited you here to talk about something important. We have become too big to be governed by one man. I am stretched and I feel I am not doing justice by keeping all or most of the control with me.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “Over the next few months, I am going to transfer sever
al portfolios to people I trust. These are people who have been with me for years. I can count on their professionalism and loyalty.”

  Keep going, keep going. All good so far, thought the Commander.

  “I have already decided on most portfolios, but there are a few that still challenge me. Militia is one of these.”

  Challenged, why? Am I not your obvious choice? The Commander was puzzled. I have murdered people ruthlessly on your orders. I sleep with your daughter.

  “You had been my first and obvious choice.”

  “Had been”? What the hell is going on? The Commander was struggling to stay calm.

  “However, I have decided not to transfer this portfolio to you,” said Shaman calmly.

  “What have I done to disappoint you?” The Commander forced himself to stay respectful.

  “Nothing. You have been a wonderful warrior, a loyal soldier, and a competent leader. When Izzy told me about her feelings for you, I felt proud of her choice. She could not have selected a better man for her.”

  “What comfort can I give you that may help you change your decision?” the Commander asked politely.

  “There are people in this army who are more senior than you. They command bigger and stronger units. They do not approve of your practices of the past, some of which were surely questionable.”

  All of which were sanctioned by you, thought the Commander.

  “They believe you are not ready for this job. They have raised concerns on your leadership skills.”

  Name them and I will chop them into tiny pieces.

  “One makes several enemies when one quickly rises through the ranks. You have your fair share of enemies. I fear a rebellion if I decide to appoint you as the CEO of Militia.”

  “I can handle a coup,” replied the Commander.

  “You can, but the UPF cannot. We shall not start a war with our own people. What are we fighting for? We took arms for ideological reasons, not to fight for power.”

  And he does not fear a coup from me, the Commander wondered.

  “I trust you and I trust your intelligence. I believe you will see the wisdom in what I am about to say.”

  The Commander looked at Shaman, unsure of what was coming.

  “I have decided to appoint Izzy as CEO of Militia.”

  “You have what?” bellowed the Commander, unable to contain his surprise.

  “Yes, that is correct. I have decided to give this position to Izzy.”

  “Izzy? She is a doctor, not a soldier. She cannot even lift a handgun, forget firing one. She has never participated in a single combat. She has probably never killed a fly. She is a gynecologist. She brings people into this world; we kill them. What are you doing, sir?”

  Shaman listened to his rambling patiently. Had it been anyone else, this much of an argument would be tantamount to disrespect. For the Commander, however, he was willing to make an exception—a onetime exception. The Commander was quick to realize that he had said more than he should have, and in an insolent tone.

  “I am sorry for my reaction,” he said. “But you do appreciate my concerns. Izzy is a soft, kindhearted girl. How can we push her into this, especially when she has no training whatsoever?”

  “She is the perfect candidate,” replied Shaman. “The entire army will see her as an extension of me. She is a political appointment relying heavily on my guidance, which would be acceptable to everyone. No one will object and they will follow her obediently thinking that they are, in reality, following my orders. What they would not know is that you will be the one running the show, guiding her all the way. She will represent Militia, but you will be the true CEO.”

  “Pardon my ignorance, but I am incapable of understanding your plan.” The Commander was utterly confused.

  “She will be the public face of Militia; you will be the real power behind the throne. You will tell her what to do and she will follow. You shall retain command of your current unit, and help her manage her day-to-day affairs. She will listen to you. She can trust you. You can run this army without running it. Think about it.”

  The Commander was beginning to understand the logic. He thought it through and liked the idea. It was genius—the next best thing to being the CEO.

  “I understand now, sir.”

  “There is, however, one small problem with this.” Shaman sounded worried.

  “What is that, sir?”

  “For this arrangement to work, you have to stop seeing her openly. You also cannot marry her until this arrangement is in place.”

  The Commander was taken aback. I cannot see her? I cannot marry her? “Why?”

  “Your intimacy with Izzy will send a clear message to the people that in reality you are leading the army. They will believe that I have tricked them. You have to part ways with Izzy, at least in public.”

  “I am afraid that is difficult,” the Commander said firmly.

  Shaman ignored him. “After her appointment, Izzy will move to the CEO accommodation; I recommend that you do not move with her. I do not mind you seeing her discreetly, but practice caution in public—and there will definitely be no marriage. She needs to appear independent of you, taking counsel and guidance only from me. I can brief the intelligence and security agencies so that they will make arrangements for you two to meet, privately and discreetly.”

  “This is a very difficult choice, sir.”

  Shaman gave him a long stare. When he finally spoke, he was ruthlessly blunt. “It surprises me that you are taking this as a matter of choice.”

  When the Commander left Shaman’s office, he was unsure of what he had gained and lost. He was not going to be the CEO of Militia, but he would be controlling it. He could not marry Izzy, but still see her as long as it was hidden from the public. He had never felt so unsure of himself.

  What do I tell Izzy? She is waiting for my call. I hope she rejects her father’s offer.

  CHAPTER 6

  Year 2089

  Sector 6, Sub-Sector 2 (formerly known as Lahore, Pakistan)

  The Commander stared out of the window from the seventy-ninth floor of the building. He was standing inside one of the regional offices of the UPF and today he had been invited to join a special session of the Council of CEOs. He was one of the few non-CEOs who had been invited. Through the maze of buildings occupying the city view, he could see the famous canal that ran through the Sub-Sector. Despite the cultural cleansing of this Sub-Sector, leading to the systematic destruction of its heritage, this canal had survived. It was an interesting sight: a century-old canal running through a concrete jungle.

  The council was waiting for Shaman and Izzy. Shaman was a punctual man, but lately he had been sick and was often late or missing from important meetings. It was rumored that his doctors had given up on him and he would soon be replaced by a new chairman.

  The Commander was vaguely aware of today’s agenda. The CEO of Technology wanted to unveil some groundbreaking technology. According to Izzy, this new technology was a game changer. It would get them inside the mind of every UPF citizen. The Commander was eager to find out what it was.

  The automatic doors slid open and Shaman entered the room in a wheelchair. Izzy was walking behind him. She looked serious and businesslike. Her lovely face was hidden behind layers of makeup, purposefully making her appear old and ruthless. The Commander hated her makeup staff. She looks much younger with her hair down and no makeup, he thought.

  Izzy headed for her chair without even looking at the Commander. He smiled at that. Memories of last night were still fresh in his mind. He was unaware that Izzy could see him smiling from the corner of her eyes. Shaman placed his wheelchair at the chairman’s spot and Izzy started the meeting by getting straight to the point. She invited the CEO of Technology to impress them all with his sci-fi stuff.

  The full name of Tech’s CEO was 2057.06.01.027.TK. He had been born and raised in Sector Six. His parents were killed in the war and he was brought up in one of the camps run by Shaman, mu
ch like the Commander. But unlike him, Twenty-seven. TK did not carry any emotional burden from his tormented childhood. He was a cheerful and affable person with no intentions to avenge anything from anyone. He had excelled in studies and his scholarship went way beyond the standard eighteen years that was available to every child of the UPF. Shaman liked him not only for his supreme intelligence, but also for his ability to forget and move on.

  Administration staff at the orphanage had nicknamed him TK—short for “Think.” Somewhere along the way, he or someone else changed his nickname to “Tank” because he was built like one. The Commander believed that Tank was indeed a more apt name, although Think was not too wide of the mark either because Twenty-seven.TK was a very smart man.

  It was mandatory for children to pick up sports at the orphanage and Tank had chosen wrestling and weight training. At the age of twenty-two, while still a student, he won the Strongest Man competition in the whole of the UPF. The anger he showed at his favorite sport was never witnessed in his job. He was extremely polite, helpful, and an absolute genius at his work. Shaman and Izzy trusted him as much as they trusted the Commander.

  Tank and the Commander did not go to the same school, so the Commander never had an opportunity to meet the child prodigy. They were first introduced when Tank joined the UPF, eight years ago. It took Tank less than a decade to elevate himself to the Council of CEOs, something no one else had been able to achieve, not even the Commander.

  At the age of thirty-two, Tank was the youngest of the CEOs. His success story was a subject matter of gossips and envy. The Commander was not envious of his progress, but definitely wary of it. Tank had covered too much ground too quickly. He might be a genius, but to get to where he stood today required more than intellect. It needed the acumen of an astute politician, something he seemed not to carry or care for.