“Whatcha do?” Patrick asked.
“What haven’t I done?” Waldar winked mischievously. A true free spirit.
“My wife and I had a dog. It was called a husky.”
“A what?”
“Long white and black hair, black muzzle, thick winter coat. Loved the cold. Could run for hours!” He looked sad at the memory and as he recalled his wife.
“A winter, We call them here. I got a couple,” Waldar said.
The afternoon passed too quickly. The captain returned, and the group prepared. Waved goodbyes and hugs, awkward for the human-doings, were shared.
The motley group left the bar an hour later with disguises and a friendly pat on the back from the elderly bar owner.
David could hear Eric Paddy bellowing a song from inside the faded green establishment. Paul hummed along. Patrick brooded dolefully, a sad memory in his eyes. Gayle was delighted—puppies. Captain Jonathan and David looked the most uncomfortable of the company; singing was not a thing in Xchange. Memories were not a thing for them either. The singing of Eric bolstered the group down the street toward Orns.
“My love is fairer than any other. ’Twas down by Killarney’s green woods that we strayed. The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair. Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows. It’s not for the parting that my sister pains. It’s not for the grief of my mother. ’Tis all for the loss of my bonnie Irish lass that me heart is breaking forever. Red is the rose. Fair is the lily of the valley. Clear is the water. But my love is fairer than any.”
The sound faded as the group moved away from the bar toward the golden arch. Paul sang low and deep. “And I ask you, friend, what’s a fellow to do? ’Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue. We were halfway there when the rain came down. And she asked me back to her flat downtown.”
“Dad, not the time.”
“What’s a fellow to do?”
“Quiet, you Paul,” the captain demanded. “Stop being happy—it’s unnatural.” The officer shook Paul’s arm. “Do you want to get us caught before we get to your loved ones?”
Washed, cleaned, and dressed up, the prodigious PPRE couple with their entourage entered the Tour Investments Building with their roles and disguises set in place.
The room was inviting, very polished. That was the best way to describe it. Five metallic seats composed of some rare ore, with comfortable cushioned gel pads, surrounded ten display stations.
“Nothing in the room is branded,” Gayle said in David’s ear. “Can they do that?”
“They are pretty powerful. They must be flaunting it,” David whispered back, hoping a hidden camera wasn’t watching them from a crack in the walls.
Each display station was separated and made private by misty fog barriers. These fog barriers glowed with varying light settings as the steam fans pulled the mist from the ground to the ceiling and then away. The room had an otherworldly feel to it, something David would have seen in a childhood story film. Gentle flutes and soothing harps trilled softly. The room was warm and comfortable and calming; it eased the nerves. Drinks of various types rested in welcoming trays surrounding the table. It was the waiting room for the Orns investment and mutual contract tours.
A gray image, ORNs, floated in symmetrical patterns on the ten-foot-high projection display at the center of their waiting station. David, in a light-blue work suit, sat in one of the waiting chairs. His exterior was calm and collected, but his insides screamed at his indiscretion and rumbled with fear. “Screwing up at Nnect is one thing, Gayle. Screwing up in Orns is an entirely different matter.”
She seems calm. He wondered why. Her insides should be crawling with the fear of discovery like mine are.
She turned to him as they waited in the anteroom and said unexpectedly, “Paul told me about the slaves you kidnapped and tortured for profit. You told me you worked on connection computers and not on people.”
“One connection machine versus another.”
“People and computers are very different.”
“No time to argue. We need to be on the same side if we are to get their people and ourselves free, Gayle.”
“I’m not mad. Our companies make us do horrible things,” Gayle said, to his relief. “For now, you’ve united this group to be on the same side. We are all trying to get free.”
“We are trying to stay alive another day,” David corrected.
“Despite what you think, you’re helping them, David. Despite your worst intentions, you are doing a good thing here.” She looked at him with respect. He gulped, glad. “Redeeming yourself is a worthwhile journey. So do your part to make sure your new habits stick. I like this new you.”
David decided to let her think that freeing the slaves was one of his motivations. Let her think he wanted to help and not just save his own stock if that made her like him more. “I do want to help get everyone free. We shall see what happens.”
“Welcome. Be seated,” a computer voice said, interrupting all conversation. The chairs at the center of the room rotated to welcome Gayle and David.
“Let the lie begin,” Gayle whispered.
A video played on a screen in front of them. David focused on the promotional videos about future investment opportunities. The annoying guilt itch had returned. He was battling the annoying guilty sensation and the stimulation of his brand. Lying was not in his holster of good business practices. He remained calm, though. He was seated in the center of the group.
Gayle was next to him. David’s breath caught in quick, needy seizures when he gazed at her. She stimulated him. She wore a close-fitting dinner gown that emphasized the brilliant emerald colors of her company, Thrive. Her shiny green fake tattoo was back on her arm, painted from a kit of brushes that Eric Paddy had had. Her long, light, sun-bronzed hair was pulled down straight behind her head, the golden locks a halo around her pretty face.
Doc Gus wore a flowing gold robe and his ceremonial gold-trimmed hood pulled over his head, revealing only his beard of wisdom and dark eyes. The other three men, from the rescue party, stood stiffly at attention behind the three seated people. Captain Jonathan was in full uniform, two recruits at his side. The captain’s face was fierce, ever scanning his surroundings. His field jacket’s collar was pulled up high, hiding the leather neck cuff. Paul and Patrick both imitated the captain’s military stance. They had field glasses over their eyes and held stun rifles at forty-five-degree angles—perfect symmetry. Paul’s mustache was dyed brown to make him look younger.
After the promotional video finished, someone emerged from the fog. “And who do we at Orns have the pleasure of servicing this day? This is a most unusual and eclectic group, I must say. Usually our customers don’t have a Mindmonk and a private QC accompaniment.” The speaker was a serious middle-aged beauty of a woman. Red was her color. She had long red nails, shiny clear lip gloss, wavy silver-dyed hair, and an ornate red V-neck dress that wrapped around her body like the weave from a basket. Her two arms were bare and unbranded. Either she was free or Orns was taunting convention. Her long legs and bare feet glided across the floor toward them. Her milky-white skin glowed as the steam wall behind her changed to a pale, emanating blue light. “Welcome to Orns product placement, career opportunities, internships, and investment tours.” She waved her hand, and the projection screen began scrolling through highlights of the tour packages available to interested guests. “Furthermore, wealthy Productzens or accomplishment-oriented freemen have the opportunity to seek employment as managers at Orns.”
“Oh, we know that managers like to jump ship from other Majors to Orns,” David said sarcastically, only catching himself when Gayle gave him a warning look. He hoped the beautiful welcoming agent didn’t notice his sarcasm.
The hostess continued, “Workers who are unhappy with their current employment can request a discreet buyout package.” She giggled, and her imperious voice rained down on her listeners with glee and joy. “Orns may decide to buy out employees from t
heir current jobs.” She smiled, and the clear gel on her lips glistened. “Blessed be those happy few selected.” David shuddered as he thought of Grandpa Greg and the other managers. The woman in the red dress continued her introduction. “Furthermore, if you have products or proposals for Orns to consider investing in, we are open to these proposals.” She showed them the several standard management options and typical buyout deals. “We also offer areas of investment. Investment portfolios include our primary business streams.” Six titles appeared on the screen:
Storyworld, the Fantasy Entertainment Show
Battle Games and Adrenaline Junkies
Relationship Products—The Human Connection
Cultural Education and Modeling Experts
Blue-Collar Crews and Waste Disposal
Security Forces and Recruiting
“We desire to satisfy human needs and help the human person contribute for the good of all,” she concluded.
“We have recently acquired a wealth of freedoms, which we wish to invest,” David said in a clear and concise manner. “You see, we are oriented as Savers and not Spenders. We believe it is wise to save now so that we can spend later. We know that Orns has many novel and revolutionary products worthy of capital investment.” He hoped he sounded confident. He could imagine robotic cameras analyzing his fear and determining his unworthiness. It took all his willpower not to glance frantically around the room.
“What my adorable boyfriend, I mean tee-up, is stammering to say—he stumbles over his words when he attempts to communicate—is that we’d like to buy an Overview Investment Tour. There it is!” She pointed excitedly at the rotating tour packages in front of them, standing up and waving. David gave her credit for getting into the role; she was much more convincing than him.
“Yes, my partner. By the stock, it’s gorgeous.” He tried to sound over the top too.
Gayle continued, “We will purchase specific tours based on what tickles our freedom fancy.” Her voice became spoiled and sultry, matching the pitch and tone of their saleswoman.
“Don’t overdo it on the acting, darling,” Doc Gus whispered, standing as he said it so that the woman couldn’t hear him. Turning to their presenter, he smiled knowingly, in a very out-of-character, formal manner, and said, “Madam Alejandra, I believe we met at several human development conferences held in the CGB over the last couple of years.”
Now it was Gayle and David’s turn to be shocked. Government conferences?
“Donk knows a woman at Orns?” Gayle whispered as the monk bowed.
“We have a most intriguing opportunity before us. If you didn’t recognize them, product David and product Gayle are the recent stars of the PPRE modeling campaign, and I’m David’s personal therapist, adviser, and—pardon the old-fashioned term—babysitter.” Doc Gus was still in a deep bow. Alejandra, with her hair waving in silvery patterns, giggled delightedly. Her eyes were keen and intelligent as they observed the group.
“Gustavus, hiding inside your robes.” It sounded like a reprimand—but a mild one.
Doc Gus straightened himself and said, “David-23 has come on personal business as well as Nnect business. Captain Jonathan and his men are part of the QC squad servicing the Nnect quadrant. We’re here because David and Gayle are invaluable Nnect and Thrive assets.”
“Markets be praised.” David and Gayle dutifully crossed themselves with the X.
Doc Gus indicated to the captain. The captain stamped his feet and stepped forward, saying, “Please forgive the intrusion by my men and myself, but our division of QC has distinguished this pair as a Priority 4 mark. We understand that Orns personal security forces protect your campus, and QC is not usually allowed on the premises. We’ll stay with the two subjects and not disturb quality operations. We hope this is acceptable and mutually profitable for our managers.” He stamped his feet again and stepped back in place, saying in his gruff voice, “By the stock, may it be.”
“Captain, we do indeed have our own forces who will watch you. Interference is not appreciated. Operate at your own risk. Because your group seems willing to invest, Orns will tolerate your presence.” He nodded. “During social events and marketing seminars events, you must stay at your group’s lodging. If our couple decides to take private tours or learn more about particular packages to further explore their freedom investments, then you’ll be required to wait in your assigned lodging.” She looked away from the captain, signaling the end of the discussion. “May all profit bless us.” David was elated things were working out.
She turned playfully to the Mindmonk, if a gorgeous intellectual could be playful. He lifted his hood in a friendly gesture so she could see his face. “Gustavus, you are of course welcome to join in all our activities.”
“Stock save us,” the captain muttered. He wasn’t the only one ogling. The entire group looked at the monk, surprised.
Their hostess said, “Why are you following this PPRE couple? Granted, they are wealthy after their recent success, but they haven’t even bought themselves yet. Do Productzens require continual monitoring from the Order? Only free people have that right.”
“You might say this is somewhat of an intriguing and intellectually stimulating story for me. Recording human responses for a new theory on the human interior consciousness, looking into boring subjects such as freedom, desire, and happiness.”
“Always the soft teacher instead of a firm-handed scientist,” she accused.
“And before me”—he indicated her—“the scourge of the mental inquisition seminars!”
“And before me”—she tapped his cheek—“the heartthrob of the intellectual observation series?”
“My studies would actually benefit professors at Orns. I know you take cultural indoctrination incredibly seriously here since your managers dictate subject matter.” He looked reprovingly at her. “I disagree with your approach, madam.”
“Obviously,” she said, teasing him. They gazed at each other with understanding. The rest of the group continued to watch in silent amazement. “You might enjoy time in our databases rather than following this couple.” She looked at him reprovingly. “Maybe you’ll come to your intellectual senses.”
“You, my dear, need enlightenment.”
“Will you be my light in the darkness?” The playful look again. “You know, Gustavus, we at Orns did offer several of your Order—including an invitation that you received from me personally—positions on our research teams. We need motivated individuals who are enraptured by the human brain, passions, desires, and needs. It’s at the core of our product sales.”
“Alas, I’m just a poor, deluded humanitarian who would rather work with proper employees than test humans the way I am convinced you at Orns do. Not sure I have a heart of stone yet like you have, my dear.”
She sighed. “Alas, the depravity of a great mind still chained down by the desire to help people help themselves.”
“Questioning is a path to learning and truth.”
“Such intelligence wasted on archaic theories. Well, when you do finally come to the truth of the matter for yourself, you’re welcome to join our team!”
“Hmm. Would you two mind continuing your professional disagreement at another time?” David said.
“Time is freedom!” Gayle said with urgency.
“And it’s costing Nnect waiting here,” David said with a demanding tone. He hoped he was not overstepping.
“Yes, indeed, David, sir. Please follow me this way. You were mentioning that you’re here on behalf of Nnect and yourselves. Please explain.”
Gayle jumped in. “Miss Alejandra, David-23 and I wish to invest as a couple, combining our recently gained resources in something lasting that’ll pay back dividends. And as far as Nnect is concerned, they don’t know we are here formally; only his team managers know. You see, David is somewhat of a creative mind who likes to research potential notions and then propose them to Nnect.”
David added, “We want to learn more about
how Orns is so successful and then perhaps partner with you.”
Gayle said, “Some sort of interconnection with the new PPRE product.”
“Add-on features and such,” David said.
“Intriguing options that would benefit both Orns and Nnect,” Gayle said.
“We are looking for couples’ activities for the PPRE date events in addition to our own investment,” David said.
“What splendid brainstorming! Because the dates would not be optional, if I understand the PPRE mandates?” the red woman asked.
“Correct,” Gayle retorted. She gave David a horrid glare. He gulped and almost swallowed his tongue.
David repeated himself to keep the conversation moving. “Time is freedom, and it’s costing us. Time to invest!”
“Well said, well said. We want to leave here with some creative ideas to suggest to the CEO himself, who has bestowed his approval upon PPRE,” Gayle said.
“Very forward-thinking of you two. Such creative minds may consider becoming managers at Orns. If I may ask a personal question?” Without waiting for permission, she continued, “How close are you two to purchasing yourselves?”
David and Doc Gus both choked on their next breaths, coughing and sputtering. David bit his tongue in shock at the severity of the discourtesy. The taste of blood filled his mouth. No one asks how close you are to purchasing yourself. Socially unforgivable. The question was about as uncouth as they came. Only your private monk and your direct managers were generally allowed to ask such a personal income-related question.
Their guide didn’t skip a beat and explained, “Here at Orns, we believe in honesty. Our cultural and training divisions focus on it.”
“Honesty or disrespect?” Gayle accused. “This is honesty to the point of rash offensiveness!”
A Tale Of Doings Page 52