Freedom Club Page 19

  This would take time. He scrutinized one counter that showed a ninety-minute progress bar. Looking back at his instructions, he found some other tasks to do in parallel. There were several expert systems he could call upon to investigate the data-mart. Methodically, he packed together specific datasets that each system was capable of analyzing. One after another, long-term counters kept popping up. The work was monotonous, but kept him temporarily engaged.

  Several hours had passed by when he suddenly realized the workday was over. There was no telling why, but for some strange reason he felt better. The effort had taken his mind off things. For that, Sumeet found himself quite grateful. Of course there were still issues to deal with, but he chose to put them off until later. He’d had enough excitement for one day. Without checking his unread messages, he closed down his system and made his way out. Passing the exit scanners, the android receptionist spewed a few obligatory good-night wishes, which he ignored. A waiting elevator then delivered him back to street level. That was when it hit him.

  The roar of humanity.

  Noise came from every direction and caught him off guard. He looked around with disbelief and realized something was very wrong. The streets were blaring. Announcements shrieked on loudspeakers and emergency scrollers were everywhere. Sumeet found himself at a loss, as mobs of people bustled in every direction, seemingly without purpose.

  It was utter chaos.

  But relief soon came as his filter picked up numerous public advisories. Translation kicked in automatically, and he soon realized what had transpired. The public metro system was inoperative, taken down by an LS attack that occurred one hour before he left the office. Reading on, he also understood that all transport was out until further notice.

  Sumeet’s immediate reaction was to find a cab, but the problem was so widespread that ground traffic was at a standstill. Looking for alternatives, his filter led him to several pickup locations. However, the lines were too long and he soon gave up.

  The only remaining choice would be to wait things out or simply walk back to the hotel. With a few key commands, a filter calculated walking route flashed up over reality. It seemed plausible. It even included a few notable sightseeing locations to visit along the way. He sighed heavily and resigned himself to the unavoidable. Carefully picking his way, he began to slowly weave past crowds of helpless commuters and office workers. Many were getting drunk. Some already dangerously so and in need of detox. An LS attack such as this was rare in Bengaluru, but strangely the situation made him a bit euphoric. Taking in the sights, the whole mess was a distraction. And distraction on this particular day was a good thing.

  However, his artificial serenity ended abruptly as an earsplitting noise hit him. ‘PRAISE THE LORD!’ boomed an ominous voice. It blasted out with such intensity that his filter’s safety buffers partially engaged. Keeping balance, he swerved to see where the blaring sound came from. Expecting some leviathan, his eyes were greeted instead by a petite Asian woman. She stood high atop a flathead, its lower limbs configured with crowd control speakers.

  Sumeet stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t clear what kept his attention. Maybe it was her checkerboard hair. Or perhaps it was the multi-spectral flexi screen cape. Nearby air blowers pushed the lightweight cloak about into wide arching waves. Used specifically for effect, it tantalized onlookers. And Sumeet just gazed on with schoolboy awe.

  “Is it heavy?” she asked suggestively.

  “Excuse me?” he responded sheepishly. “Are you talking to me?”

  “I asked if it’s heavy?” the woman said a second time.

  Sumeet looked down at his buffalo skin briefcase. “Uhm, no. It uses a nano-carbon frame and...”

  “No, I meant your Bible!” she said, rolling her eyes.

  Sumeet stared back naively as the young woman hopped off the flathead. She strutted up to him with unadulterated Yoyogi-girl style.

  “If it’s heavy I would be happy to carry it for you.”

  Glancing again at his briefcase, Sumeet looked perplexed. “Sorry, I think you misunderstand. I don’t have a...”

  “Oh! I understand,” she said, nodding emphatically. “My name is Xiomara. Let me guess. You’re not Christian, I take it?”

  Sumeet laughed. He finally realized Xiomara’s intentions were quite benign. Evangelists like her were common in Bengaluru, but few possessed her raw style and beauty.

  “Me? No I’m a Hindu. Sorry, I was just heading toward...”

  The speakers once again erupted. ‘PRAISE THE LORD!’ boomed the synthetic voice. Using a pinkie finger to wiggle out his deafened ear, Sumeet scowled toward the flathead.

  “Is that really necessary?” he blurted. “I mean there must be some anti-noise law.”

  Xiomara playfully smirked. “There’s no law. And it’s standard protocol required as part of the Aleph-Beta franchise.”

  Sumeet took a step back. “You’re an evangelist, a franchisee? I thought you were just some sort of volunteer street priestess.”

  “Nope, just a plain old franchisee, making money through commission on church subscriptions. I’m actually quite good. Ranked fourth regionally! I’d be higher, but there are some things that...well, things I prefer not to do. I have some morals, you know!” Xiomara tittered. “I suppose you aren’t interested in joining me for a Bible study? The show’s about to start.”

  Sumeet politely shook his head. “Sorry, no.”

  “Really, are you sure?”

  “Quite!”

  “I get the highest feedback ratings. There’s a Gartner report, too, if you care to look.”

  Sumeet chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it. I assure you, you’re better off not wasting time with me.”

  “Suit yourself,” Xiomara said, returning to the flathead.

  Sumeet politely nodded and had begun walking away when his curiosity got the better of him. Theatrical lights began emanating in every direction and a small crowd of onlookers began to form around Xiomara. The first flathead provided a makeshift stage with sound and lights, while the second converted into a bipedal robotic dance partner.

  “A big round of applause for Mr. Boom Boom!” Xiomara announced, pointing with both arms to her robotic counterpart.

  Then a dance beat began rhythmically pounding the onlookers. It didn’t take long for them to begin clapping in synch with the music.

  Boom Chukka Boom Chukka Boom Chukka Boom

  The rhythm was hypnotic. Sumeet found himself slowly captivated as Xiomara contorted her body. Beginning with a handstand, she slowly folded her spine so far backwards that her buttocks and head touched. Everyone looked on in fascination as colored laser lights danced over the crowd. With a pop, she landed on her feet like a sleek cat. The crowd gasped before breaking out into sporadic applause.

  Without stopping she fluidly performed other contortions blended with complex acrobatics. The second flathead provided assistance. Xiomara dived from the platform and landed safely in the padded arms of Mr. Boom Boom. As each maneuver finished, the crowd applauded with increasing intensity.

  Acrobatics soon transformed into pulsating dance. Pacing back and forth with arching steps, she egged her worshipers on. They waved hands high in the air, moving with her in perfect synchronization. More onlookers joined as she began her sermon. Dancing to the beat, she projected her strong tenor voice over the cheers of the screaming mob. Everyone went wild as Xiomara sang out her soulful, heart-pounding rap:

  Tyger Tyger, burning bright,

  In the forests of the night:

  What immortal hand or eye,

  Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

  Boom Chukka Boom Chukka Boom Chukka Boom

  Boom Chukka Boom Chukka Boom Chukka Boom

  In what distant deeps or skies

  Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

  On what wings dare he aspire?

  What the hand dare seize the fire?

  Boom Chukka Boom Chukka Boom Chukka

  Boom Chukka Boom Chukka
Boom Chukka

  Sumeet looked on with fascination. The energy and rhythmic beat had a strange effect upon him. Slowly, he walked closer and joined in, mesmerized by her theatrical ability and acrobatics.

  Xiomara continued to entice and delight. While singing, she tossed away her spectral cloak. Other Velcro-attached clothing items were ripped off in showgirl fashion. By then, the crowd had tripled in size and thundered with escalating rapture.

  Down to minimal spandex, she performed climactic acts of agility and grace. Mr. Boom Boom assisted by employing unusually jointed limbs, contorting them far beyond a human’s capability. At precisely timed moments, he locked position in mid dance step. This allowed Xiomara to catapult over him in unique and complex ways. Her performance went on for several minutes until she finished the first set with a convoluted triple somersault.

  Sumeet had little care for religion. But like the rest of the semi-intoxicated crowd, he clapped enthusiastically. To his own surprise he even made a donation. Xiomara bowed deeply as Mr. Boom Boom walked by with a collection scanner. Sumeet looked down at the flathead without a care in the world. Smiling, he gladly swiped his cash card.

  “Jesus saves!” yapped Mr. Boom Boom.

  Miguel stared unwaveringly at Hugo’s quarterly pipeline and waited for clarification. Various three-dimensional graphs clearly showed their status, but failed to explain the unimpressive results. That job was left to Hugo, who sat meekly before Miguel’s avatar ready to answer for his lack of progress on the LS crisis. Nothing unusual, but increasingly stressful now that system outages had become a global phenomenon.

  Miguel spoke dryly. “I was hoping for something better.”

  “Too many blocks remain unresolved,” sighed Hugo. “The complexities have been immense.”

  “Agreed,” Miguel nodded. “But our superiors care little for them. Only results are of concern. And now that similar LS events are taking place globally, many jurisdictions have their own investigative teams. It will be only a matter of time before someone else solves the puzzle.”

  Hugo held up both palms in frustration. “I doubt anyone is going to get ahead of us. The key data is in Japan, locked away behind regulations. Just give me more time, my team will find a lead soon.”

  Miguel looked on sympathetically, his avatar face remaining stiff and unemotional.

  “I have come to trust your ability to succeed. However, it might be wise to initiate a backup plan. To shore up our numbers.”

  Hugo suppressed his displeasure. Backup plans were often support work for other units, unrelated to LS. Even though points could be gained through such efforts, the work was demeaning. Just simple analytics, without any real reward.

  “What did you have in mind?” Hugo winced. “My team is specialized. Cross topics are hard to deal with.”

  “I had something else in mind. How do you feel about the Martin Luther King Junior?”

  Hugo’s face lit up. “What...? In New Mexico? That’s not open, is it?”

  “Not yet,” Miguel said, referring to some bulletins. “But PAU Central Command wants it solved badly. My information indicates they’ll open the case across all units in the American sector if not the entire Union. Any team can bid as long as their Commander approves.”

  “Interesting,” Hugo cooed.

  Hugo contemplated what this meant. An opportunity to work on the spaceplane incident could provide turnover to his team, even if it only came from marginal efforts.

  “If you can handle it, I can volunteer you.”

  Hugo suppressed a smile. “Put my name in, Miguel. I’m sure we’ll add value somewhere. Even if we can’t solve it, there’s a strong chance to earn something for analytical support. I assume standard PAU split rules will be used.”

  Miguel nodded happily. “My thoughts as well. However, I should point out that I can only volunteer your team if there’s no degradation of your existing assignment.”

  “Understood, Miguel,” Hugo assured.

  “And you understand the ramifications? If we still don’t meet our targets,” Miguel warned.

  Hugo fully understood. Consistent pressure to execute was always applied, in this case explicitly.

  Hugo responded firmly. “Yes, the budget is at risk.”

  “Unfortunately more this time. There is another consolidation planned. Teams showing underperformance may be recast, or swept together for redeployment. It would displease me greatly if I were to lose you.”

  Hugo remained unimpressed. Over his career, he had been reassigned, downsized, laid off, recast, and fired more times than he could remember. Such rhetoric was common. And even if true, he was resigned to starting over. Each past event became less and less stressful. Now, such threats meant little.

  “I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Hugo reassured.

  “Good! In the meantime, I’ll put your name into the Special Task Force office and get you access to the MLKJ data-mart. Inform me if you require any assistance. Otherwise, I will await your next update.”

  Miguel’s image faded away as Hugo got back to work. There was a lot at stake. Somehow, he needed to dig up something, and it could be that the spaceplane’s destruction was just the opportunity he needed. Strange, he thought to himself. To think that the wanton destruction of property and life could benefit him. But such was the way of things.

  Hugo jumped onto his system and sent an encoded message to Shinzou. One thing was certain: They needed to talk about this as soon as possible. There was no time to waste.

  And everything to gain.

  Chapter 11—Pedagogue

  The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats.

  —Henry David Thoreau

  A swarm of plant misters buzzed happily around while tending Shinkei-Kenkyu’s arboraceous work area. But this wasn’t a bother to Sumeet, who found peaceful solitude amongst a sea of empty work spheres and his virtual desktop. It was strange, though. Banished from Chindo Securities, he was strangely cheerful. Evidently Xiomara’s vibrant Bible study and exotic entertainment had improved his mood, and he found himself ebulliently humming tunes that endlessly repeated within his head. Was it the ones Xiomara sang? How odd that he should keep them in mind.

  Anticipating a better day ahead, Sumeet was apathetic to personal matters. For some reason, he completely ignored a long list of unread email and video messages left by Hiral, choosing instead to engross himself in Ganesh’s data-mart analysis. Why so many anyway? She could wait.

  Some time passed until a call from his loan broker arrived. Sumeet froze. He’d forgotten about his com-plex deal. The closing was imminent, and he realized that Shasta knew nothing about his layoff. Panicking ever so briefly, he considered calling back. But that idea seemed downright foolish, and he took the call by tapping gingerly on his virtual pickup button.

  Shasta’s voice sprang out, bubbly as ever. “Sumeet! Great news, your lease subcontracts have reached over ninety percent. Are you still in Japan?”

  He hesitated. “Well, yes but I have something we need to talk about.”

  Momentary silence intervened as Sumeet’s lips quivered. Shasta waited impatiently as he stumbled around for words. What could he say? Mental anguish returned like a tsunami, thrumming against carefully erected mental barriers.

  “You see...”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, are you still nervous about all this?”

  “No, it’s just...you see, I have a situation.”

  Shasta shook her head dumbly. “What now? They’re transferring you to Mumbai?”

  “It would seem they’ve decided to...” Meekly, he sputtered the most humiliating utterance. “Well, you see, I’ve been laid off.”

  There was no immediate response. Cringing, Sumeet realized that for the first time he wasn’t sure what would happen. Squirming in his seat, he found himself overcome with
profound angst and fear. How could this be? Was he not a graduate of India’s top business school? People like him weren’t supposed to get scared, or fear the unknown.

  Shasta just tapped her pen insouciantly. “Okay, so?”

  “What do you mean?” he retorted. “Won’t this stop my closing?”

  Shasta shook her head. “Actually, it doesn’t. When is your last day? No change is needed if we sign two weeks before then. I can update the docs to reflect you’re planning a career move, but from experience it’s irrelevant. IIM graduates like you are golden.”

  Sumeet was dumbfounded. All the while he had dreaded this discussion. But seeing it shrugged off so easily, his fear was wrenched into something altogether new.

  “How can it be a non-issue?” he fumed. “I thought you said my earning ability was critical.”

  Shasta shook her head. “It still is, Sumeet, but your earning ability is considered over the long term. Who cares where you work today, or tomorrow for that matter? You’ll earn and repay the bank no matter where you run...I mean, go.”

  Sumeet guffawed. “You act like I’m some kind of race horse. Sure to win the derby no matter what.”

  Shasta casually brushed lint from her sleeve. “That’s a crude analogy, but not so farfetched. You need to understand something. You’re considered an elite member of society. Your value continues to grow over time. Who cares if Chindo lays you off? That happens all the time. There’s actually nothing to worry about.”

  Sumeet glared back angrily. It wasn’t contempt toward Shasta he harbored, but for the system she described so admirably. Deep down, he knew apathy wasn’t justified. And a sense of revulsion lingered within his gut like misdirected bile.

  “So,” she continued, “let’s move ahead with the signing. Our regs need you here in person. When will you be back?”