Freedom Club

by Saul Garnell

  “Yes, quite interesting, but the new version still is unconvincing. We in the council unanimously agreed not to pursue this.”

  And with that, it all came to a halt as though Sumeet had been splashed with cold water. Not again! Sumeet’s exhilaration, which had been euphoric if brief, now turned against him like a tidal wave. It had all been for nothing! His emotions went into a tailspin as he realized the Xin-Ulam deal was dead. Tossed out. Just like all the others had been. Glancing at Armando, Sumeet pulled over a chair, preferring to sit down to hear the rest of what he expected would be a thoroughly impassable barrage of logical and deeply thought out criticisms.

  Grimacing, Armando could feel Sumeet’s pain. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do here?” he asked. “Sumeet worked like a complete and utter slave on this. I thought that this might have more merit than the others.”

  “Yes, it does,” Drexel said, while nodding toward the graphs. “But please don’t take this on any personal level. Eighty seven point two percent of all transactions never make it to Phase Two. This is even truer for those with limited experience.”

  Was that an insult? At this point, Sumeet couldn’t tell.

  Dejectedly, he asked, “I suppose you have ruled out reducing the offer price? I mean, we can raise the internal returns if there is some problem beating your threshold.”

  Drexel looked back at Sumeet and floated over toward Armando. “No, I’m afraid that won’t help. The problem is more fundamental. It has to do with the expected incompatibility between operational lines of business.”

  Sumeet crossed his legs and leaned toward the wall where Drexel spoke. “Really, we saw quite a bit of synergy in that area. In fact we extracted data from all the public material lists, and did a detailed simulation on both existing and projected new lines. The correlations were amazing, higher turnover in all cases. I mean, barring unforeseen market implosion. I can pull out our supporting docs if you like.”

  Everyone’s attention suddenly focused on the door as it slid open. Divit, the team’s support crawler, walked in using three of its four legs with spider-like precision to gander in while holding a small tray with coffee. In what seemed like one single fluid movement, the service bot placed the coffee on the desk, stowed the tray, and marched back out. Armando looked happily at the coffee, and took a long sip.

  Drexel floated over to Sumeet’s side of the room. “It won’t be necessary. We already looked at that data. Indeed, your work was excellent...but it is only a simulation, I fear.”

  Sumeet puzzled at this remark. “You still refute it? Even though you claim it’s accurate? Is that not somewhat...at odds?”

  Sumeet pressed the current point while staring at Armando. Clearly, he didn’t want to let Drexel destroy all his work with a vague statement. Maybe some victory was possible, even under retreat.

  “Uhm...that’s true, I suppose,” Armando added cautiously. “We usually don’t dismiss data that looks right.”

  Drexel raised his chin in the manner used to justify oneself. “Gentlemen, we all know unbiased obedience to objective data is the mark of high intelligence. But true leadership and visionary decisions come from a deeper, more subjective understanding of the issues.”

  Armando grinned a little. “You mean your gut tells you not to trust the numbers.”

  “As does experience,” Drexel pointed out sternly. “I have seen countless sims like this one, and even though some are better than others, many never materialize due to unforeseen market reaction. In this case, we believe the product line synergies will never be attained due to incompatible customer bases.”

  “You believe?” Sumeet asked curiously. “You mean the merged entity would be like mixing oil and water from a customer point of view?”

  “That’s a simple way of putting it,” Drexel agreed. “But I suppose that does capture the most basic issue.”

  “And we can’t clarify this problem anywhere in the model?” Armando asked, scratching his head with a pen. “You prefer just to speculate on that?”

  Drexel did not immediately reply. “I would not call this mere speculation. It may be somewhat unusual for a Sentient Being to base any decision on intuition. However, I am very confident to do so from time to time when I feel the cost of gathering data is too high and resources are better invested in other projects. I am within my authority.”

  Sumeet shook his head in disagreement. “What cost? I’m happy to invest more time on this. We’ll find concrete assumptions to clarify our projected turnover.”

  “The Sentient advisory pre-review committee has made its decision.” Drexel looked at Armando for support. “We would like Sumeet and Ivan to move on to the next project in the pipeline. Of course, if you are unhappy with this recommendation, you can petition during our quarterly review session. It is open to all employees.”

  Armando chewed his pen and sighed. “Looks like we should move on, Sumeet. No point confronting the whole board over Xin-Ulam. We’ll have other deals.”

  Sumeet did not reply. He just stared at Drexel with his arms neatly folded. This was the end. Sumeet felt it deep down.

  Seeing the tension in Sumeet’s face, Drexel said, “Once again, I would urge you not to read into this decision.”

  He looked at Sumeet and smiled. It wasn’t a real smile, but an obligatory facial expression that Sentients learned to felicitate humans. Drexel waited for a moment to ensure Sumeet understood. He did, but not as intended.

  “Your work has been exceptional and there is no fault on your part.”

  “I wasn’t concerned with fault,” Sumeet said somberly. “But it...well, it would be nice to work on a project that sees the light of day.”

  Armando glanced unhappily at Sumeet and then nodded to Drexel. “Thank you for your time today.”

  Drexel’s avatar bowed to both men respectfully and phased out of view. Sighing, Armando put his pen quietly down upon the flexi desk and looked over at Sumeet tranquilly.

  “You really should be more careful about how you speak to him.”

  “Pardon?”

  “To Drexel.”

  Sumeet spun in his chair. “I believe I was polite. Did I offend in some way?”

  “Not directly, no,” Armando said, as he leaned back in a more relaxed manner and drummed his fingers lightly on his bulbous gut. “However you certainly did challenge him. You need to be careful.”

  “I thought we were having an open discussion. Is debate not permitted?”

  “Yes, of course it is. This isn’t an issue of what was said, but instead of...how it was said.” Armando waved his arm meanderingly about to make his point. “We’re not having a flap with Ivan, for God’s sake. That was Drexel. He’s currently a contender for the chairmanship of the Sentient oversight committee, and the only Sentient that all board members pay close attention to.

  Sumeet crossed his arms defiantly. “Not all.”

  Laughing a little, Armando nodded in slow agreement. “Yes, all right. Not all. But most of the other 73 members do. I’m fortunate to have him working with me, and to be quite frank, guys at your level are even moreso.”

  Contemplating the last remark, Sumeet said, “It’s annoying, don’t you think?”

  “What is?”

  “Well,” Sumeet huffed with frustration. “The Sentients we work with are always so factually correct.”

  Armando shrugged. “So?”

  “They have instant access to facts and figures that no human can match. But normally, Sentients don’t speculate much. It’s as though intuition is an ability they must forsake for having extensive memory and computational skills.”

  “What’s your point?” Armando asked, staring at a few speckled grounds stuck curiously on the bottom of his cup.

  “The point is, Drexel seems to speculate when there seems no other way to win an argument. It’s rather convenient, don’t you think? I wonder if this is true intuition or the formation of a habit that...well, true or not, let’s him outmaneuver an opponen
t. Smash with brute logic and if they’re still alive, finish them off with an assumption or two. It’s like the old bull fights. I feel like the poor beast on the ground. The matador walks up with the sharp blade and finishes me off!”

  Sumeet stabbed playfully in the air. He looked up at Armando, trying to see if he could spark some reaction. But Sumeet was heading into unknown territory. He knew full well he was asking Armando to be critical of Sentients, a maneuver which could have negative consequences.

  Sumeet continued: “What do you think? Does he really have the ability to go into the deep subjective?”

  Armando looked at the bottom of his coffee cup aimlessly. “I don’t know. Maybe. But as colorful as your analogy is, it exemplifies your negative attitude.”

  Sumeet fumed. What’s he talking about? It wasn’t a negative comment from his point of view. He simply recognized a pattern of strange behavior, something he expected his manager to appreciate. It was all beginning to backfire.

  “I suggest you don’t share those thoughts,” Armando said. “For sure, don’t say that kind of thing to Ivan. Anyway, don’t worry much about this deal going down the tubes. In the grand scheme of things, does it really matter? I mean, who cares if we do the damn deal or not? There are more in the pipeline. If not Xin-Ulam, then something else.”

  The conversation was over. Armando had made his position clear. He was on the side of Sentients. And as for Sumeet? Well, it didn’t matter all that much.

  “Of course you’re right,” Sumeet lied helplessly. “Let’s put everything behind us. Thanks for your time today.”

  “That’s the attitude,” Armando said. “Keep up the good work!”

  The phone rang and Armando gestured that he had to take the call. Sumeet nodded politely, and walked outside. The door closed. Armando picked up as Drexel’s image reappeared on the flexi wall.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting. I was just finishing up with Sumeet.”

  “That is interesting, because I wanted to speak with you about him,” Drexel answered.

  Armando looked concerned. “I do apologize if he offended you earlier. Sumeet can sometimes get too attached to his work.”

  Drexel smiled and waved off the comment. “That’s quite all right. I don’t mind that. In fact, I find employees like him quite engaging. However, I am looking for someone with a particular profile at the moment. I was thinking that Sumeet might be just the type I am looking for.”

  Armando relaxed. He smiled as he sat back in his chair. “Oh, I see. Well, sure! Sumeet is one of our very best. My top performer, to be quite honest.”

  “That’s exactly what I am looking for. A top performer,” Drexel said enthusiastically.

  “Please, tell me more.”

  Back at his desk, Sumeet remained angry about the meeting’s outcome. What a disaster! But with whom could he lament his woes? Looking around, all his coworkers sat preoccupied at their spherical workstations, quietly absorbed inside their filter masks. Their voices were dampened by noise-sinks as they pointed around in the air and talked about some pending deal. Robots, he thought. Each and every one.

  But then a glimmer of hope. He saw a message left by Hiral, his fiancé. With anticipation he donned his filter and ear plugs. The surrounding office faded away, as Hiral’s message immediately popped up and began its playback.

  “Sumeet sweetie,” she said in a flowery voice. “Where are you? Some dreary meeting I imagine, but I’m sure they’re once again floored by your brilliance. They always are. Oh! When you get back do call me, because we need to talk about the dinner tonight. I hear that Ganesh wants to have North Indian again, and that will never work. Manju and I spoke, and we demand Turkish. Okay? Anyway, call me soon. You know how impatient I get.”

  As her image faded away, Sumeet was left frowning miserably to himself. Her comment about his brilliance stung badly. On top of that, the restaurant problem was starting to erupt. Again! Now what was he supposed to do? He knew that things would end horribly if the restaurant issues weren’t handled right. Why did everyone fuss over such things? Was this even important? Grumbling, he dialed Ganesh’s number without thinking. Within moments, Ganesh’s live avatar appeared floating in his virtual room.

  “Hey, Sumeet. What’s up?” Ganesh yelped.

  Sumeet laughed. “What’s up? I’m calling about dinner. I think you know why.”

  Ganesh’s smile immediately disappeared. “Oh no, not again!”

  “What?”

  Ganesh slapped his forehead. “I swear you’re not even married yet and you can’t even decide on a restaurant by yourself.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Like hell it’s not”

  “The girls just want something different.”

  “Different!” Ganesh protested. “Might I remind you that we’ve not had Indian food for the last five outings. All we do is have something different. Hey, Goobe! Do you even remember your nationality?”

  Sumeet laughed again. “I am a very happy citizen of the Chindo Union.”

  “I meant India. Doh, Goobe!” he growled. “Stop thinking about everything in economic terms.”

  “What do individual countries mean anyway?” Sumeet asked casually. “If you’re not part of a global union, you’re a non-nation these days.”

  Ganesh shook his head in disbelief. “I’m calling the police. You’ll be sorry you ever said that.”

  “Relax, will you?” Sumeet now chuckled to himself. “Look, the girls said they just want to have… “

  “No!”

  “You didn’t let me—”

  “Still no.”

  Sumeet shook his fist angrily. “Listen! There’s no way we can get to the end of this.

  “Sure there is,” Ganesh said. “You just need to take control of your life. Stop being so obedient. Then everything will be fine.”

  Sumeet froze. Ganesh’s comment struck a chord within him. For some reason, memories of his meeting popped back in his head. What was the connection? It was like his subconscious was sending him a message, one that he just refused to believe or didn’t quite understand himself.

  “I’m in control!”

  “So you claim. But we’re still going for Northern Indian. Mr-In-Control.”

  Sumeet leaned forward and squinted angrily. “You can’t do that to me.”

  Ganesh laughed loudly and bounced in his chair. “Okay, then tell me, what do the girls have their hearts set on?”

  “Turkish.”

  Ganesh put his finger on his chin and pretended to think. “Well, in that case I offer Chinese. Let’s meet at the Union Wok at eight.”

  “That’ll never work. The girls are sick of Chinese too.”

  “Then,” Ganesh said slowly, “we shall be mutually miserable.”

  Ganesh’s image disappeared before Sumeet could say anything more. What a jerk! Now he didn’t quite know what to do. Sumeet looked at the clock and realized there was little time. Calling Hiral would take too long and certainly devolve into an argument. Deciding to put things off until later, he grabbed the dinner request and updated its location to the Union Wok. There! All done.

  A call arrived. It was Ivan, his Sentient assistant. Bad memories suddenly came back, but Sumeet now realized there was someone to talk to. Yes, Ivan would understand.

  Picking up, Ivan’s avatar loomed up in Sumeet’s virtual room. His image was that of a young clean-cut man, though not overly immaculate like many of his peers.

  “I’m sorry I missed the review of Xin-Ulam. Can you fill me in?”

  “They killed it,” Sumeet blurted. “Or I should say, Drexel killed it.”

  Ivan frowned. “Well, that is disappointing. I’ll need to watch your recorded minutes, but tell me, what was his primary reason?”

  Sumeet waved his hand to express bitter unhappiness. “The same old thing. Drexel felt our projections were invalid because the customer bases were not compatible. Like oil and water.”

  “The customer bases? I see.”
>
  “Well, what do you think?”

  Ivan contemplated the matter for only a second. “It is true that the marketing angle did have some pitfalls. One could exploit the problems in this area and justify a no-go decision. However, without a deeper marketing simulation it is not easy to make an objective call on that.”

  Sumeet nodded. “Yes, I said about the same thing and offered to find the data with you.”

  “And?”

  Sumeet grinned. “He said don’t bother. The research costs are too high. They asked us to move onto the next scheduled project.”

  “I see.”

  “Armando just went along with it as usual. I tried to argue a bit, but it backfired on me.”

  Ivan’s eyebrows rose. “Interesting. What exactly happened.?”

  “Well,” Sumeet threw a hand up in the air again, “after the meeting Armando accused me of being argumentative. Can you believe it? I swear, I can’t tell what the point of these meetings is. Are we trying to figure out the real issues or just kissing Sentient ass.”

  “We don’t possess that particular organ,” Ivan responded.

  Sumeet chortled to himself.

  “If you don’t mind my opinion on all this,” Ivan politely offered, “there is some truth to it.

  “What! You think I’m argumentative?”

  Shaking his head, Ivan said, “Well, maybe that too, but that’s really no issue. I like your nonconformist attitude. It’s refreshing in many respects. But your comment about the increasing pressure to follow Sentient recommendations bears greater thought. It seems to me that this is an increasing trend.”

  Placing his hands behind his head, Sumeet leaned back in his web chair. “I see. And you don’t feel that your opinion is biased in any way?”

  “Only to the extent that your opinion is biased toward the need for greater human influence. But like it or not, I think we both sense that human opinions, though not unimportant, are becoming somewhat marginalized. I would also venture to say this trend increases as one goes down the ranks of any given company.”