by J W Murison
‘We don’t normally deal with outsiders Ambassador. They have to be exceptional. However, in honour of your greatness, we will certainly listen to his proposal.’
He turned to Charlie, ‘How do I address a Human properly?’
Charlie bowed low, ‘You do the Human race a great honour. Friends are addressed by their first names. As we are not yet acquainted, Mr Murison shall suffice.’
‘Then please take a seat and make your pitch Mr Murison.’
‘Thank you sir. I am an executive from the PD music company of Earth. It is my job to seek out new markets for our company.’
‘Don’t you mean your artists?’
‘No sir, I don’t. We are a public domain company. After a period of seventy years from the time a particular piece of music has been released, or from when the recording artist passes away, their music enters the public domain. We represent the families or descendants of those artists. Of course if there are none then the proceeds of any music we promote comes to the company.’
‘I see. Do you have a copy of your copyright laws Mr Murison?’
‘I most certainly do.’ Charlie produce a paper copy, beautifully bound by Babes, and slid it across.
The owner seemed frightened to touch it, ‘Is that paper?’
‘Yes sir it is.’
He snapped a finger, ‘Do I have gloves?’
Behind him sat half a dozen executives. One female got up and ran from the room.
‘Blayah, come here and witness this.’ He looked up, ‘Blayah is our copyright lawyer.’
Charlie produced an e-pad, ‘The top pages are in Human English while the Modloch translation is in the back half. This is an electronic copy that has been verified by our office of foreign affairs.’
The lawyer took possession of the e-pad while the female appeared with gloves. The owner put on the gloves and turned the pages with the greatest of respect. Paper was a very precious commodity; the owner himself had never seen it outside of a museum. He almost smiled.
‘The copy you are holding sir is for your own records. The company can take an electronic copy from my pad, or apply to our office of foreign affairs for a copy of their own.’
He sat back, ‘You are making a gift of this? It is too much.’
‘We consider it an expression of good will, and wish for you to accept it as it is given.’
‘I don’t know what to say. Thank you.’ He paused to wait for the lawyer to catch up.
‘This is all genuine sir. All of the electronic signatures required are in place.’
‘Thank you Blayah. With that in place Mr Murison, we can move forward. So your company deals with the music of musicians who are already deceased, and of which the copyright on their music has already expired.’
‘Yes.’
‘That saves both of our companies a lot of problems.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Of course, once they are released here, then copyright for that piece of music shall once more come into effect. This company shall hold the new copyright, which will prohibit the selling of that particular piece of music to anyone else on this side of the barrier. Do you understand that?’
‘Of course sir. We did our research before approaching you.’
‘Good. Now what do you have for us?’ Charlie took out the boom box. ‘Wait. We can only accept music in the form of a master disc that is legally registered with your company on your home planet.’
Charlie reached into his bag and produced a large golden disc in a clear case. ‘All ready sir.’
‘I see. Excellent. So this is a demonstration. Please, play your machine.’
Charlie opened his mind to their thoughts and hit the play button. The expressions on their faces was almost comical, but Charlie knew he had them.
He let them listen to a half dozen tracks before switching it off. He knew they wanted to listen to more. ‘You will be free to listen to them all at your own leisure once we have made a deal, and reject any you wish.’
‘Can’t we listen to more?’
‘No! You have recording devices in here and this music is public domain. If I let you listen to them all then you would have a recording of them all. You could then tell me to go away and then make a master disc of your own.’
He smiled, ‘I must admit the thought had crossed my mind.’
‘Then you would deprive yourself of a thousand years’ worth of recorded music. We would put a planet wide ban on any dealings with your company. I can assure you, whatever profits you gained by stealing this music would be overshadowed by the profits your rival company would gain from a genuine contract.’
He smiled, ‘That has to be one of the nicest worded threats I have ever heard. I will need to ascertain that you have more than six recordings and that they are all of the same quality.’
‘Choose a number between one and sixty sir.’
‘Can I pick six?’
‘If you want, however I will only let you listen to the beginning of the recording.’
‘Agreed.’
So they listened and bobbed their heads in time to the music. Charlie eventually switched it off and returned it to his bag. Then he placed the golden disc on the table.
The owner’s eyes gleamed, ‘We had no idea that Human music could be so entertaining. I believe the standard contract for people in your situation is three per cent of the profits.’
Charlie shook his head, ‘That is for individual artists who live outside the alliance of planets. We are not a single artist. We are a company that can bring you thousands of artists, hundreds of thousands of tracks. What we want is ten per cent – three for our patron and seven for the company. That is non-negotiable and, I believe, fair.’
The owner thought it over, ‘Hmm... We normally deal with a company just like yours, not the individual artist. Neither do you have an artist or artists to pay. I believe the three per cent quite enough.’
‘I’m afraid it is not, sir.’
His hands lifted from the table. ‘No, that’s it. No negotiation.’
‘You don’t quite get it. There will never be another company like ours on this side of the barrier. We are offering you thousands of tracks from thousands of artists. Any modern day artists will also have to come through us. On this master disc there are just under three hundred recordings. This era was called the big band era. On it are all the top hits from all of the top artists at the time. You can produce whole albums or sell them as individual hits. Up to you. This, however, only scratches the surface of the big band era. There are artists that weren’t big on our planet but may be smash hits on yours. Not only have we supplied music but we have also supplied film recordings for some of the bands.’
‘I still see no reason to pay you more than the three per cent. Neither can you guarantee that no other company shall come along and do exactly what you are doing with one of our rivals.’
‘At this moment, there are no other companies in existence that can take up this cross barrier challenge. No other companies have representatives on this side of the barrier, neither are they likely to have either. There is one other reason it won’t happen. One of our directors is also the head of the department of foreign affairs: Orlath Canaries.’
The owner seemed stunned, ‘That is illegal.’
‘Not on Earth.’
‘Ah of course. Canaries... he is the Albany traitor?’
‘He is no traitor. Orlath had a lifelong Human companion and mate. When she conceived, she was taken from him. Her and the child were murdered to provide the basis of a serum that would allow his former race to invade our solar system and attempt to eradicate our species. When the opportunity arose, Orlath escaped his former race and placed himself in the hands of our authorities. When we heard his story, he was formally offered the opportunity to become a member of the Human race. He accepted.’
‘Yes, and now he is the head of your department of foreign affairs.’
‘That’s right. Orlath holds a masters degree
in galactic law. The only Human to do so.’
‘So how did you persuade him to come on board with you?’
‘I was the man who rescued him from his escape pod.’
The owner sat back and clapped his hands, ‘Very well done. How long?’
‘He has promised us ten years. There is another reason you only give three per cent – access to a gold master disc. Most non-galactic planets can’t get them.’
‘I did notice you had one. They are very hard and expensive to acquire.’
‘We are very resourceful.’ In fact, with the help of Babes, he had stolen it from a rival company to the one he was currently courting. Babes still wasn’t happy about it.
‘I see. If it doesn’t come up to our stringent standards we will discard it.’
‘It will.’
‘So what you are really offering is a ten year exclusive contract?’
‘Yes sir, we are.’
‘The normal contract is three years.’
‘Which is the length of time it takes for a planet to gain citizenship of this large galactic family and access the technology required to produce the master discs themselves. After that, if you wish to keep them, you have to up the percentage, which most refuse anyway.’
‘Well, once they are established they can then sell the music from their own home world.’
‘We are a race of meat-eaters, the chances of us being allowed to join your large galactic family are very slim. The experts think it will take at least ten years for the inhabitants of the planet Earth to gather enough sponsors for us to have even a slight chance of gaining intergalactic recognition.’
‘You really have done your research well Mr Murison. We will retire for a short while to discuss these proposals.’
Charlie and the Chief returned to the waiting room. ‘I think that went well.’ Ventured the Chief.
‘Shhh! I am listening to their thoughts.’
The Chief sat back, ‘Right.’ He waited for a few minutes, ‘Well? How is it going through there?’
‘They are all desperate for the music. Some are arguing about the percentage. They have no problems giving your three per cent. It’s giving dirty meat-eaters money that they don’t like. The owner is waiting to put the boot in,’ Charlie smiled. ‘Aye, he is actually considering firing some of them.’
‘Why?’
‘The company has been struggling for a while now. They have been selling off stock to keep buoyant. A little here, a little there. He thinks that this music will sweep the Empire and that it will forever change the face of music across the whole galaxy. The others can’t see that and are arguing over a few per cent. He is going to call his broker later and sweep up all the spare shares in his own company.’
‘There’s a good idea.’
Charlie swung his head towards the Chief, ‘You have a broker?’
‘Don’t need one.’ He whipped out an e-pad and began banging away on it. Half an hour later he had invested every penny he had on company stock. Charlie could only shake his head and hope that the Chief’s confidence was rewarded.
They were called back in to the boardroom over an hour later. ‘They are going to try and shake us down a few per cent, but the bottom line is that if it looks like we are going to leave, we get what we want.’
‘How are you going to play it Charlie?’
‘Both barrels, straight down their throat. Keep a straight face.’
‘Got it.’
The lawyer and other members of the board had taken the place of the owner. The lawyer had a strange superior look on his face, confident that he could bring the Human down a few per cent. The owner now sat behind, observing.
‘Please sit Mr Murison.’ The lawyer offered.
‘No thank you. I am not a very patient man. This is the bottom line. If you try to squeeze so much as a single hundred thousandth of a per cent out of me this discussion is over and I am going straight to your nearest competitor. Make a choice.’
It caught the lawyer and the board flatfooted, but not the owner. He sat forward, ‘Please sit Mr Murison while we conclude the deal. We are more than happy to give you what you wish. We have discussed it at much length and agree to your terms.’
Charlie and the Chief sat. The company agreed to open a bank account in name of PD Music and Charlie gave them a list of the board’s directors and the other executives that would require access to the bank account. The company director, Steven Gordon, could also issue cards to a half dozen others that he himself would name.
Two hours later Charlie signed the deal as the company’s managing director of promotions. The Chief took him to a small café. ‘It’s all I can afford for now Charlie, sorry.’
‘Isn’t like I can eat anything anyway Chief.’
He shook his head, ‘I keep forgetting you’re not one of us. Sorry, but I need to eat something.’
‘It’s OK, don’t worry about it.’
The Chief ordered some lunch and a big steaming plate of fermented grass appeared in front of him. The café owners seemed unsure of how to deal with their customers. The Chief dug in with a large wooden fork. Charlie wanted to hold his nose, but thought better of it. ‘Back in a minute Chief.’
‘Going for a smoke?’
‘Yup.’
Outside the café, there was a bench in a relatively clear area. Charlie sat on the bench and pulled out his cigarettes. He lit one up and took in his surroundings. In the small space between buildings he was surrounded by strange looking trees. The only traffic was commercial. Large containerized units slid past noiselessly. They weren’t unlike those you found on earth, simply larger. They seemed to be sliding along on some form of unseen magnetic rail. The air was clear and fresh. Here and there individual Modloch could be seen walking around. In this part of the city, every building was uniform. It was the height of them that was impressive. A transport system cut through the buildings at many different levels. There were even walkways. All were clean. No smoke, no fumes. A container stopped in front of him and began beeping. Everything stopped as it turned end on. Across the street a shiny door opened and the container slipped inside. The traffic began moving again.
Charlie was just thinking how clean and painless everything was when he was suddenly doused with water. He leapt to his feet and snapped round with a roar of rage, finding himself facing down the prepubescent daughter of the café owner, who carried a large water jug in her hand. She squealed in fear and Charlie immediately calmed down. He shook some of the water off, ‘What on earth are you doing?’
‘You were on fire,’ she squeaked.
Charlie shook his head and placed the damp cigarette into what he knew was a bin. As he closed the lid he could hear the suction whip away what he had placed inside.
The Chief burst out laughing at the sight of Charlie. He laughed even louder when he was told what had happened.
‘I knew sooner or later that filthy habit of yours would get you into trouble.’
‘Aye well, it’s no like I’m the first man in history to be doused with water for smoking.’
‘Who was?’
Charlie laughed, ‘Och, I think it was a man called Sir Walter Raleigh, hundreds of years ago. His man servant doused him with water as he was smoking his pipe. The man thought he was on fire.’
‘Now you are the first Human to be doused by a young Modloch maiden. A pretty one too. You might go down in history.’
‘Aye right!’
The manager shuffled in and when the Chief explained the situation he apologised profusely. The young maiden was also paraded in front of them and she also apologised. The Chief was still laughing. When they left the Chief was curious, ‘How come you never saw her coming Charlie? It’s not like you.’
‘I was completely switched off. I heard her, I knew who it was, I just didn’t realise what she was up to.’
The Chief shook his head, ‘What are you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know damn well what I mea
n. You are stronger than three Modloch, stronger than any other Human, and you can read minds. What the hell happened to you? I know you were hurt and Steven’s ship healed you, but no one will tell me exactly what it did to you.’
‘Not going to either. The less anyone knows the better.’
‘You saved my life. I owe you. I would never betray you.’
‘Look, you basically know the gist of it. I was hurt and it took the ship to fix me. I’m not going to tell you exactly what it did to me. You know I can read minds. If I couldn’t, then I would never have found you.’
‘I know of no other being in this bloody universe that can read minds. You can’t tell me that those little bots you have floating around your body are responsible for that?’
Charlie took a deep breath, ‘I always had an ability to sense when some bugger was after me. I couldn’t read minds, but I could sense when someone was having thoughts about me or intended me harm. We Humans call it a sixth sense; I am not the only person like that. There are probably millions like me back on Earth. It is something we grow up with and accept. The thing is it doesn’t always work and you can’t actually read minds. The part of your mind that processes that information is what we call the subconscious mind, it has no direct link to your conscious mind. When I was injured, part of that was severe head trauma. Babes thinks that the medical bots discovered that part of my mind, mistook the blocked neurons as an injury, and opened them up.’
‘You mean they created a pathway between your subconscious and conscious mind.’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Wow. If my people find out they will probably catch you and dissect you.’
‘You think mine wouldn’t?’
‘Point taken. Just be careful my friend.’
‘Remember, if anybody asks...’
The Chief waved a hand, ‘Yeah I know Charlie. You’re a weirdo that likes studying body language.’
‘That’s the one.’