2100 AD: A Sly Pretense

by Tariq Saleim

Tank stood up from his chair and took the floor. “Over the last two decades, we have made great progress in the way we communicate with gadgets and machines. We carry out our daily chores with the help of Mind-Reading Devices—MRDs. These come in all sizes and shapes, and almost all of our everyday-use things can now be controlled by our thoughts. As a young technician I was fascinated by the technology. I saw it growing bigger, better, and more useful day by day. We now have several manufacturers who produce and distribute MRDs that help us communicate with our world.

  “When I joined the UPF, I became interested in harnessing this technology for our benefit. How could we use what was available and build upon it a dependable system that could gather invaluable intelligence? How could we use this technology to get into people’s heads and know what they were thinking? After years of research, most of which was kept undercover for obvious reasons, I feel proud to announce that we have today achieved what has never been done in the history of mankind.”

  Tank paused briefly, deliberately building up tension. He looked around the room at impatient faces and smiled. He had their complete attention. He looked at Izzy, who nodded for him to continue.

  “Every piece of MRD that is produced and sold in the UPF today is licensed by us,” said Tank. “We now have access to all the data it receives from human minds. We receive this data and filter out the operating instructions to the gadget because it is of no use to us. Then we store and analyze whatever is left.”

  His audience stared at him in confusion.

  “Let me explain how this works. How many times have you done something while thinking of a different thing? You might call a friend and talk to him on a certain topic, but your mind is elsewhere. It could be a delayed assignment in the office; great sex last night; maybe you are thinking about your holidays while driving your car to the office. It could be all of this or more.

  “MRDs record all such thoughts, but only process those relevant to their operating codes. All other recorded thoughts have no value and are eventually overwritten by fresher ones. Now we will have all those unsolicited thoughts in our database. Each and every citizen of the UPF who is using an MRD is linked to us through his mind. We will know what is in his head while he controls a piece of equipment.

  “It was not an easy project. Linking every MRD to a central database and then processing the information in a coherent way required building a supercomputer. I am happy to tell you that this very building houses one such supercomputer. There are a total of one hundred and five, scattered across the UPF.”

  Tank paused again. He was looking for some appreciation now. What he got instead was a question. “Is this not stealing?” asked one of the CEOs.

  “Is it?” Tank replied. “Is it stealing if information is voluntarily handed over?”

  “No one is handing over information to you willingly,” the CEO said adamantly. “You are stealing it.”

  Izzy felt it was time to step in. “We are picking up waste and making something out of it. If we do not make use of these thoughts, they will go to waste anyway.”

  No one had the courage to debate this point further. The CEO who had raised the issue smiled at Izzy. She gestured to Tank to continue with his presentation.

  “With the help of our Media partners”—Tank pointed at the CEO of Media—“we will undertake a massive campaign encouraging people to use MRDs as much as possible. The technology is relatively cheap and easy to use; therefore, we see a possible mass appeal. It is our aim that every citizen of the UPF must have at least one MRD-supporting device. That way he or she will be able to connect with us whenever that device is used.

  “The information that we gather with the help of MRDs will be scrutinized by our computers. We will find out who our enemies are and who our friends are. We will find out what people intend to do before they have actually done it. Can you imagine how powerful a weapon this is? We can predict the future before it actually happens.”

  “People are smart—they will figure out what we are doing,” another participant said. “There are millions of IT personnel in the UPF. It won’t be difficult for them to understand what we are doing. You are underestimating the intelligence of our citizens.”

  “There will be some concerns,” Izzy replied, “but no one will be able to prove anything. Of course the smart ones will be the first to suspect, and will avoid using MRDs—initially. Over a period of time, given the ease of use and contrary to any firm evidence proving their concerns, they will also give in. We will use Media to bring home the message that MRDs are safe, cannot be hacked or accessed for any information. We will convince everyone that MRDs have no utility other than communicating with the devices these are connected to.”

  No one dared to argue with Izzy again. The Commander looked around and wondered if it was a meeting of equals. Izzy and Tank were dominating the proceedings. Twice, valid concerns had been raised and rebuked. It was clear to him that Tank and his team would be stealing public property—thoughts. They would do so without permission and make an intelligence weapon out of it. The idea was good, but unethical. He wondered how Shaman approved of it. He looked at Shaman, who was silent and appeared to be distracted.

  Tank took another half hour to explain his project and its intended uses. Everyone listened intently and no one asked any questions. At the end of the meeting, they praised Tank for his farsightedness and Izzy for supporting him.

  ***

  That night when they were alone in her room, Izzy asked the Commander for his views. “You did not say anything this morning. Were you not impressed by Tank’s project?”

  The Commander decided not to tell the truth. He never forgot that his girlfriend was the CEO of Militia and his boss. She might be sleeping with him, but that did not change the fact that she was a very powerful woman.

  “I was,” replied the Commander.

  “You did not say much.”

  “There was nothing much to say. I think it is a big step forward. It helps all of us with our jobs.”

  “Yes, it does. I think Tank has delivered a top-notch product.”

  “I am sure he has.”

  Izzy paused. “Joshua, I want to tell you something.”

  Usually when Izzy called him by his old name, she asked for a favor. “What is it?” he asked.

  “Shaman is dying.”

  “So it appears.”

  “Medicines are keeping him together, but we will not be able to keep him that way longer.”

  “Let him go. Every king dies and is eventually replaced by a new one.”

  “Yes, and I wanted to tell you about this new king.” Izzy had a big smile on her lips.

  The Commander wondered why she was grinning. Her father was on his death bed, his authority about to be surrendered. She would soon have a new boss. Yet she still found a reason to smile.

  “Or should I say ‘queen’?” Izzy added to the suspense.

  “Please, tell me clearly what is on your mind.” He was getting upset with her little games.

  “I am going to replace Shaman as chairman of the UPF,” Izzy said quickly.

  He stared at her in shock. This could not possibly be true. This time he failed to be diplomatic. “There are several people in the council who are your seniors. They have been with your father a long time. They will never approve you. I am sure someone among the old faithful wants to be the chairman.”

  Izzy chuckled. “They are all supportive.”

  The Commander was irritated at her childlike demeanor. “How did you manage to convince them?”

  “I bribed some and threatened others.” She spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact tone.

  “You did what?” shouted the Commander.

  “You heard me.”

  “You threatened them with what?” The Commander was utterly puzzled. This side of his girlfriend was unknown to him.

  “With…stuff.”

  “What ‘stuff’?”

  Izzy hesitated for a brief moment. “I am CEO of Militia.
Do you have any idea what I can do?” Her tone was now like that of a cold-blooded murderess. “I gave them an idea of what I could do if they did not support me, and they all gave in. In return for their loyalty, I will make them rich—super-rich.”

  “They are rich already. What more could they possibly want?”

  “There is no such thing as enough money. More is always good.”

  “Is Tank helping you in this?” Suddenly, the Commander understood why Tank had risen through the ranks so quickly.

  Izzy avoided eye contact and looked the other way. The Commander had found his answer, but he still wanted to hear it from her.

  “Is he?”

  Izzy turned and looked into his eyes. She was angry and made no attempt to conceal her fury. “Just because I sleep with you, you do not get the right to insult me. Do not forget that I am your boss, and soon to be the chairman of the UPF.”

  He was amazed at her arrogance. This was the first time she had pulled rank on him. He had been very careful never to get into a situation where she had to tell him who the boss was. Now that it had happened, he was hurt.

  “Whatever you say—sir,” he replied obediently.

  “You are embarrassing me now.”

  “I am merely following the protocol.”

  Izzy looked at him worriedly. She had something else to say before they parted. She wondered if it was the right moment. “Don’t you want to know who will be the CEO of Militia?”

  “It does not matter.”

  “It is you!”

  The Commander stood up from his chair and adjusted his shirt.

  Izzy was puzzled. “You are not excited?”

  “Sir, I appreciate your confidence in me, but unfortunately I will have to decline.”

  “What the hell? How can you refuse? You wanted this all your life.”

  “Maybe in the past, but not now.”

  “What do you want now?”

  He looked into her eyes. “I want you, Izzy, and nothing else. Let’s leave all this. You do not have to be the chairman. I do not have to be the CEO. We can retire and live like normal people. We can be together, like normal people. Let’s raise a family, have kids.”

  Izzy was furious. “You are out of your mind. I have a chance to rule the world and you want me to raise kids. You men are such pigs. You are jealous of my progress.”

  “I am not jealous of you, but I do not approve of your ways either.”

  “What ways?” she shouted.

  “You compromise our relationship for your career. You threaten and bribe people for success. Do you even know what you are doing?”

  “I know what I am doing. I am going to rule the world. Do you know what you are doing?”

  “Yes, I am leaving. I will resign tomorrow. I do not want to be a part of your empire.” He started walking toward the bedroom door. Izzy ran to him and hugged him from behind.

  “Do not leave me, please. I am sorry. I love you, but I cannot leave this either.”

  He did not reply.

  “I will be lonely without you. I trust no one but you. I need you to be on my side when I take the oath as chairman of the UPF.”

  He was still silent.

  “Look at me.” She forced him to turn around. “I am a powerful woman, but I am begging you not to leave. I want you in my life, professionally and personally. Please do not go.”

  “I cannot serve under you as CEO of Militia because I do not think I am getting this position on merit. I also cannot continue to see you like this. I want a family. I want kids.” He freed himself from her grip and grabbed the doorknob.

  “What is wrong with you? Your girlfriend will be the chairman of the UPF soon. You will be the CEO of Militia. What more do you want? Any man would kill a million people to be in your position.”

  “I am not that man, Izzy. All I want is you.” He opened the door and walked away.

  CHAPTER 7

  Year 2100

  Sector 3, Sub-Sector 1 (formerly known as New York City, United States of America)

  “Is everything taken care of?” Pepper asked her producer-cum-director-cum-publicist.

  “There will be a huge crowd of fans and media people to receive you when you go out. All has been arranged,” replied DK.

  “You are the man, Dick,” Pepper said with a flirty smile.

  DK loved it when Pepper called him Dick. It felt so right. He would usually get upset when people called him Dick, but not with Pepper. Coming from her, it was different—a perceived touch of vulgarity and desire. Much to his dismay, he had a strict business-only relationship with Pepper. All his advances that could have led to an expansion of their relationship into personal fronts were swiftly and sternly rejected. It was made clear that the continuation of such advances would eventually result in the cancellation of all his professional affairs with the star. Pepper was a money machine and DK would be out of his mind to let that happen. This, however, did not stop him from entertaining the probability of future success.

  The plane landed at the airport and they breezed through Immigration. Everyone recognized Pepper and handled her carefully. She was known for throwing tantrums, creating scenes, seeking media attention, and threatening with her formidable contacts. No one wanted to be on her wrong side and behaved accordingly.

  As they stepped out of the arrival hall, a crowd of a few hundred welcomed her home. Comprised mostly of teenage boys and girls, her fans rushed to take pictures with their favorite star. Before they could get to her, a team of bodyguards surrounded her from all sides, making an unbreakable human wall.

  Dick has managed everything very well, thought Pepper. She was happy with the security arrangements and the crowd that had gathered. It was important to make people see you so that they could try to reach for you. But it was also important to be safe, therefore bodyguards came in handy. The tussle between fans and bodyguards always made news, which was good for business.

  Spike waited for Pepper inside a limousine with tinted windows, parked far from the crowd. Pepper would be coming in any minute and they would drive off. She was going straight to a shoot and only had time to meet Spike while they drove to the location.

  Pepper seemed to take forever to reach her car. A walking distance of about seven to nine minutes took her over half an hour to cover. When she finally made it to the car, surrounded by her bodyguards and fans, she looked happy. There were no traces of tiredness or agitation. She looked as charming as always.

  “I missed you, love,” said Pepper, and gave a long, tight hug to Spike.

  DK settled in the front seat and told the chauffeur to drive. The partition between the front and back seats went up, providing Pepper and Spike with some privacy. Spike kissed her passionately, having genuinely missed her. Pepper responded professionally, making him believe she missed him too.

  “Why can’t we go home?” complained Spike. “Is this how you treat your boyfriend?”

  Spike had a point. She had been gone for over five weeks and now that she was back, she was going straight to another shoot. She genuinely felt bad for Spike.

  “You know how things are,” replied Pepper. “I have contracts to honor and deadlines to meet. If I don’t stay on top of my game, business will go to someone else. There are millions of girls out there dying to be where I am.”

  “And that means you will neglect me totally?” Spike asked while kissing her on her neck.

  Pepper realized that all of Spike’s blood had drained out of his brain and gone into his organ. There was no point in talking to him now. It was better to give him what he had been missing. She pressed a button on the door and spoke to the driver. “Take the expressway.”

  “Yes, madam,” he replied through the speakers on the rear doors.

  “DK, you call the unit and tell them we will be late by half an hour,” said Pepper. She looked at Spike, who still had a gloomy expression. “In fact, tell them we will be late by an hour.”

  DK did not bother to reply—he was too disgu
sted. The chauffeur looked at him and smiled, thrilled by the fact that his porn-star employer was living it up in the backseat while he drove on the expressway. He could not wait to tell his friends. He wished he had planted a recording device on the backseat.

  Pepper pressed another button on the door and the rear seat started transforming into a flatter configuration. When the seat stopped moving, there was enough space for two to get comfortable. She lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and let out the smoke—into Spike’s face. “You have one hour to show me how much you missed me.”

  Spike finally had the invitation he had been longing for. His face lit up like a kid who was allowed into a candy story without any restrictions.

  Everyone in the car did their own thing for the next hour. The driver took the expressway and cruised along, cautiously making an attempt to make the ride comfortable for the love birds in the rear. DK called the film crew and said they would be late by an hour and a half. When Pepper was done, she would need time to freshen up.

  Pepper entertained her boyfriend to the best of her capacity. Spike was full of energy, pounding and unending. He had no idea that his girlfriend was tired and longed for rest. It had been a long day—first traveling, now getting humped in the backseat of the car; next, she’d be facing several hours of shooting. Pepper was unsure when she would be able to get some rest.

  By the time they dropped Spike at his place, Pepper was more than an hour late. As soon as Spike left the car, Pepper pressed the intercom button. “I need a coffee, DK.” The partition between the front and rear seats was still up.

  “OK,” replied DK. She must be exhausted. Poor girl. He felt bad for her. This was proving to be a very long day. DK was feeling tired himself, and he did not even have half the action Pepper had.

  He asked the driver to stop at the nearest coffee shop and fetch a tall cappuccino. A few minutes later, the limousine was parked in front of a large coffee shop and the driver went in to make the requested purchase. DK stepped out of the car and walked to the rear window. He waited for the driver to return, took the coffee cup from him, and signaled for him to get back in the car. Once the driver had settled in his seat and closed the door, DK knocked on the rear window. Pepper opened it just enough to grab the cup. DK was not surprised to see that she was still naked.