by Jen Cole
Suddenly among the maelstrom of firings in Melvin’s brain, a neural pathway flared more brightly. Incentive – that was the strategy he would use. And what was the greatest incentive for employees? Personal Points. Play or Die must be made too expensive for people to access and the blame laid at Fitani’s door, not The Company’s.
If Jo wasn’t dead or in the Hunter’s hands by 2.00 a.m. he would damn precedent and pull Fitani off his work shift an hour early. He’d tell him the CEO had decided to increase the rent on his blank Playroom, tenfold. The game show host would immediately be forced to raise the price of Play or Die beyond the reach of all but the wealthiest employees, and it wouldn’t matter if they kept watching. The wealthy employees were happy with the status quo and would not be corrupted by Jo’s ideas.
At the same time, the Employees’ Entertainment Catalogue would advertise a once-in-a-lifetime, three-day-only drastic price drop on the most expensive entertainments. People would be left with the choice of spending their last Personal Points on Play or Die, or dropping it in favor of entertainments they’d never have a chance to try again. It was a no-brainer. People would leave Play or Die like a sinking ship and Jo and her subversive messages would be forgotten.
Melvin chuckled. Fitani wouldn’t be too thrilled, but he’d get over it, and all was fair when survival was at stake.
…
Danny Fitani bent with the line and held his probe steady. Jo was turning his life into a nightmare. Had he not told her she was no longer to speak of The Company or the employees? Well, in truth he’d said she was not to ask questions about them, and that he would no longer discuss such matters with her, but it was the same thing! After she and Richard had indulged in their little diatribe, he’d half expected Secretary Briggs to appear and order the game’s immediate cancellation. For the first time in his life he’d been happy to race off to the cloaking room and leave for the edge. Now he and the show would be safe for another four hours at least.
As he moved his probe along, Danny pondered the viewer-reaction to Jo’s speech. It had been interesting. At first her Emoto Board tally had plummeted, as was to be expected. No one likes being manipulated and it was obvious Jo and Richard were trying to do just that. But almost immediately the points had started to build again. Were people actually falling for what she’d said?
Jo had called them murderers, as had other prey before her, and everyone knew that was not true. They were executioners and there was a big difference. Wasn’t there? The punishment they were meting out was righteous but Jo had called it self-indulgent, saying that rather than putting all their energy into punishing others, they should be using it to find their own solutions. But there were no quick solutions. One day there’d be enough clean earth for the employees to stride out upon, but for now all they could do was keep working and wait until The Company announced that day had come.
Danny moved his probe again, and realized he’d had a lot of ‘firsts’ recently. Detestable as the four-hour shift at the edge was, this was the first time he actually dreaded the return to his tube. If Secretary Briggs’ angry face wasn’t waiting for him, a swarm of blinking message lights would be. And they wouldn’t be the usual fun ones from fans and friends. Lately, those blinking lights heralded nothing but ulcers.
More than half of the message invasion would be from their younger demographic, the sixteen to twenty-five year olds, who in the past had been the most voracious for blood. Now, literally overnight, they’d begun viewing Jo as some kind of savior, dubbing her, ‘The Fresh Pair of Eyes’ and demanding that Fitani spare the Ancestor who had helped them see things for what they were. It was no doubt Jo’s unexpected interest in them, which had caused these naïve youngsters to be swayed by what experienced employees, such as he, recognized as her baseless barbs against The Company.
The remaining message lights would be from the wealthier, over forties demographic. This group was baying for Jo’s blood, accusing her of corrupting young employees and insisting she be terminated immediately. No, he definitely didn’t want to go back to face those lights.
And on top of everything, someone, somehow had incredibly managed to tap into the Fun ’n’ Games pipeline to Jo’s era, collecting and spreading reams of historical information to all the Safe Places. The information was triggering unprecedented discussions, arguments and even impugning of The Company’s motives.
A beep sounded and the line straightened and stretched together. How was it, Fitani wondered, popping the kinks in his shoulder blades, that people could be so easily swayed? The old image of Mother Company filled his mind. Though he knew she was just an avatar representation, thinking of her filled him with warmth. If only everyone knew this side of The Company, they wouldn’t doubt she loved her employees and had devoted herself since ‘The Great Arising’ to their care and well-being.
Another beep sounded and he bent again, cursing the noisy stirrers who shouted down the defenders of The Company. The stirrers claimed The Company had a duty to provide specific information about the distribution of resources so that accurate projections could be made about when the cleaned land could finally be used for something other than primary production.
Others had started asking what role The Company had played before the Great Destruction, and why the Directors had waited underground for so long with technology that could have been used to help the survivors of the immediate aftermath. Why could they not all be content to accept that The Company had good and sufficient reasons for everything it did?
Jo, of course, was to blame for all this, trying to make The Company look bad. Clever, but it was just a trick. Surely people would see through it? Yet more and more were succumbing to her words, as the whole clothing thing was showing. In the beginning, the mimicking of Jo’s outfits in some of their holographic styles had just been part of the fun. Then in the blink of an eye, it had turned serious. Now everywhere you looked, people who supported Jo or who were beginning to question The Company, were adopting the grey track pants and hoodie as their uniform. The rest found themselves shelling out Personal Points for increasingly extravagant holographic designs, in order to show their support for The Company. Where would it all end?
~~~~
CHAPTER 38
At Richard’s knock, Marilyn appeared looking fresh and animated. Her tailored fawn slacks and cream watered silk blouse made him marvel yet again at how much she’d changed since uni. Just two years ago she’d have gone naked rather than wear anything her parents would approve of. She brushed his cheek with a kiss, and the expensive perfume she’d recently begun wearing made his head swim.
“Come in, Rick. I’ve only just arrived.”
“I know.”
She led the way to a coffee table on which a silver bucket and a pair of champagne flutes stood. “Oh, have you been waiting for me darling? I would have been here sooner if it hadn’t been for that damn police block.”
“Police block?”
She turned and drew a quick breath. “My God, Rick, you’re filthy. You look as though you’ve been in a fight.”
“It’s nothing. I’m okay. What’s this about a police block?”
“Just out of Nagambie. They’re stopping every car travelling south. The line of poor bastards waiting to get through stretches back half a kilometer or more. They weren’t stopping cars coming up from Melbourne, but we were slowed down. On the bright side however…” she turned towards the coffee table. “The management of this wonderful resort appear to have left us some welcoming bubbly. And you look like you could use a drink. Shall I crack the bottle? … Rick?”
Richard forced his attention back to Marilyn, still shocked by her news. If he and Jo had gone just a few kilometers further down the highway they’d have been caught in the trap.
“Let’s leave the champagne for the moment, Marilyn. I’m afraid tonight is more business than pleasure.”
Her brow furrowed and then cleared. “Okay Rick, I guessed this wasn’t all romantic spur-of-the-moment
impulse. But you did promise to explain your missing car over a drink… and I have come rather a long way for you tonight.”
The smile that followed this last sentence, with its little sting of emotional blackmail, would have been enough in the past to set him pouring champagne. Now, he resisted easily.
“Marilyn forget the drink. Someone’s life is in danger and I need your help.”
Her frown returned. “I’m not a field agent Richard. BEAM has people better suited for that sort of thing than me.”
“Ordinarily I’d agree, but the situation is tricky. Jo doesn’t trust our safe houses.”
“Who’s Joe?”
“You remember my Shepparton Community Leader?”
“Bill Warrington? We’re currently investigating the two names you gave us in relation to his possible murder by the H Group.”
“I got one of those names from Bill’s files. The person who gave me access was Jo, his daughter.”
“Ah.” Marilyn sat on the couch, her expression hardening.
“She is in danger Marilyn. I swear to you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “From the H Group? Doubtful. They’d hardly risk exposure trying to arrange her death so soon after her father’s… unless they thought she had something very damaging on them. Does she have something very damaging on them?”
“I haven’t been able to ascertain that yet. She’s understandably shaken by the attempts on her life, but it’s possible she has vital knowledge.”
“Then hand her over to BEAM. They’ll keep her safe and find out what it is she knows – if anything.”
“She doesn’t trust anyone except me and she’s convinced the only way of staying safe is to keep moving. I’ll need to stick with her for a while.”
“Stick with her? Where is she now?”
“She’s waiting outside in the van. I didn’t want to bring her in before explaining the situation to you.”
Marilyn stood stiffly. “Rick Sayers, your explanation so far hasn’t been worth the breath you’ve used, but you can’t leave the girl outside on a night like this. Go and get her immediately.”
Richard squeezed her hands. “I knew we could count on you.”
…
Marilyn paced the floor as she waited for Rick and the girl ‘who trusted no one but him’. He’d tricked her into coming up and she should have known better. Something had smelt wrong from the start. Rick wasn’t inclined to romantic gestures. Her grandmother’s words of a year ago came to mind.
“That Rick boy – are you serious about him, or is he just part of this rebellion against your parents?”
At the time, Marilyn had bristled. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“Calm down Marilyn, I’m not saying he’s wrong for you…exactly. But maybe you could do better in a partner when it comes to achieving your goal.”
That conversation, like so many with her grandmother, had begun with a question about her progress. Both women were hardheaded and goal-oriented. They could have clashed but instead had formed a strong bond.
Her father had made the mistake of trying to steer her, groom her to come into his business. In contrast, her grandmother always asked what she wanted to do, and then found ways to support her.
What she wanted to do, Marilyn had told her grandmother, was make the country a better place. While her mother waltzed off to cocktail parties and her father spent his time wheeling and dealing with the captains of industry, she planned to actually help people. Australia was supposed to be the ‘lucky country’ but the gap between the haves and have-nots told another story. Big business was dictating to governments, and no one seemed prepared to do anything about it.
“There’s plenty of charity work you can do,” her mother had said, as though charity ever got to the root of such problems. Marilyn had never been one to think small. Australia needed strategic planning and cutting-edge legislation, and she believed she had what it took to be a decision-maker. Her ultimate goal, revealed only to her grandmother, was no less than Prime Minister.
When her parents had finally, reluctantly decided that perhaps they could endure the idea of a politician in the family, Marilyn told them she’d joined the Labor Party. It had been the last straw and they’d parted ways.
But things hadn’t gone to plan. In that conversation with her grandmother a year ago, Marilyn had admitted she wasn’t on track with her goal.
“I don’t understand why I’m not getting anywhere Gran,” she’d said. “I’m doing everything right. I’ve been going to Party meetings since I started uni and I volunteer for the jobs no one wants. I have a Law/Political Science degree and they know I’m passionate and capable of hard work. I’ve shown them I can think on my feet, so why am I still being bypassed? Whenever an electorate position comes up I’m told I’m too inexperienced and haven’t yet done my due diligence. Funny though – people my age who joined after me are being discussed as possible candidates.”
“They don’t trust you, Marilyn.”
“Why? I’ve given them no reason to distrust me.”
“The reason is in your blood – your private schooling, your moneyed background – they’ll always be suspicious of that. I’m not saying advancing is impossible, but in the Labor Party it will always be harder for you than for members with working class backgrounds. And no matter how high you rise through the ranks, there’ll be people in your Party, as well as among the voters, who will question what you’re doing there.”
“But the Labor Party is the closest fit to my personal philosophy. My background should be irrelevant.”
“In an ideal world,” her grandmother had said. “But you and I know the world is far from ideal. Reality is facing that and working with what you’ve got. Think about this. You want to be Prime Minister one day and I believe you’ll get there. However, if you switch to the Liberals, it will happen a lot faster. You won’t need to constantly prove yourself, your family connections will help fast track you through the ranks, and in the end, what does it matter whether you’re with the left or the right as long as you’re the leader? If you want to make things happen, you have to be the leader.”
Those words had simmered for several weeks, until Steve Hardy, a relative newcomer, was endorsed for a vacancy in an electorate Marilyn had had her eye on.
In walking off her rage, she’d found herself wandering into a Liberal Party meeting, ‘just to have a look’. There she’d bumped into some friends of her parents, who had welcomed her effusively. When she’d expressed surprise at their tolerance of her Labor Party membership, they’d laughed and quoted an old saying: Anyone who is not a socialist at age 20 has no heart. Anyone who is still a socialist at age 40 has no head.
One thing led to another and eventually Marilyn had resigned from the Labor Party and joined the Liberals. On hearing of this her parents had made overtures and fence mending had begun. Though she’d now been with the Liberals just ten months, Marilyn had made more progress with them than in her four years with the Labor Party.
Still, she had not yet told Rick about her change in political allegiance. Why not? Was she worried he wouldn’t understand? Or was she more afraid of discovering he didn’t feel strongly enough about her to care?
She’d never found Rick easy to read. The sex was good, but they rarely talked of personal things and he seemed only passingly interested in her political ambitions. Lately he’d cooled off even more. She’d put it down to the stress of his work, but was starting to wonder if her grandmother had been right and that it was time to look for a more suitable partner. Her mother, constantly introducing her friends’ sons, would certainly be happy about that.
But Richard was her last tie to the idealistic person she’d once been, and Marilyn wasn’t quite ready to cut that tie. Now, thinking of his trips to the Warrington farm over the last six months, she wondered if Jo had already begun the cutting.
…
Richard walked to the front passenger side of the van. Jo was leaning against the window wr
apped in the blanket. Her eyes were closed but when he tapped lightly, she sat up, opening the door, and he slid in beside her.
“Bad news, I’m afraid.”
“Marilyn hasn’t taken things well?”
“What? No, no, she’s just sent me to bring you in. The bad news is there’s a police blockade a few kilometers down the road, which is stopping every car heading towards Melbourne.”
“Shit!” Jo was wide-eyed. “If we’d gone any further we would have been caught in it. Now what do we do?”
“We could try changing direction, but chances are they’ll have blocks set up on all the main roads out of Shepparton.”
“And the Hunter and his agents no doubt have the lesser roads covered. So we’re trapped here. At the two am broadcast they’ll have us!”
The horror in her voice made Richard reflexively gather her up and hold her tightly to stop her trembling. “It’s not over till it’s over Jo,” he whispered. “The next broadcast is more than two hours away, and now we have three heads to come up with a solution.”
Jo took a shuddering breath and he felt warm air on his neck as she let it out slowly. “You’re right. But it’s hard not to panic.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back so he could look into her eyes. “You have more guts than anyone I know,” he said truthfully. “And we will get through this. Now come on, before we freeze to death.”
“What have you told Marilyn about me?” Jo asked as they walked to the cabin.
“She doesn’t know the police blockade is for you. I’ve told her you’re in danger, but I was vague on specifics, just implying the H Group was involved. Hopefully I can keep things focused on them. Say as little as possible and follow my lead.”
…
When Marilyn opened the door, her first feeling was of relief. The filthy, bedraggled creature beside Richard was just a child. She quickly revised that assessment when the ‘child’, with quiet self-possession, offered her hand and thanked her for helping out.