Peter Hamilton - The Mandel Files

They started with subcontracts; company names and products, their quality procedures, industrial relations record, financial viability, bid prices, and finally a recommendation. Julia would say yes or no, and the profile would be snatched away, to be replaced by the next. She couldn’t remember them afterwards; she didn’t want to remember them. That was the whole point. The system only involved her thought processes, not her memory, leaving her brain cells uncluttered.

Personnel was the second category. She handled the promotions and disciplining of everyone above grade five management herself. If only divisional managers knew how closely their boss really followed their careers…

Divisional review came next. Start-up factories’ progress, retooling, enlargement programmes, new product designs.

Cargo fleets, land, air, rail, space, and sea.

New London biosphere maintenance.

New London second chamber progress.

Microgee materials processing modules.

Finance.

Energy.

Security.

Prior’s Fen Atoll civil engineering.

That’s the lot, said NN core one.

Julia consulted her nodes. Over eight thousand items in six and a half minutes. She couldn’t remember one of them, although her imagination lodged an image of hard-copy sheets streaming by on a subliminal fast forward.

Any queries? she asked.

Only Two, said her grandfather.

Says you, NN core two rebuked. How you can think Mousanta is a problem I don’t know.

What are they? Julia asked, forestalling any argument.

Well, the three of us share a slight concern about Wales, NN core two said. You are going to have to make a decision about who to support some time.

I know, she said miserably. I just don’t see how I can win.

So choose the option which causes the least harm, said her grandfather.

Which is?

For my mind, the Welsh Nationalists have promised Event Horizon a bloody attractive investment package if you go ahead and build the cyber-precincts. I say see the delegation, they are bound to Improve on the offer. It would be a fantastic boost for them to come out and announce they’ve swung you over. Bloody politicians, never miss a trick.

In order for their promises to mean anything they have to win the referendum first, NN core two said patiently. They’re terrified you won’t commit to a site until after the vote, of course. People won’t vote for secession unless they’re sure it will be beneficial. Which is what the Nationalists have been promising all along. Catch twenty-two, for them anyway. If they win the referendum and can’t produce the jobs independence was supposed to bring they’ll be lynched.

Dead politicians, her grandfather chortled. If I had a heart, it would be bleeding.

Our civil projects development division has been getting daily calls from the New Conservatives’ central office, NN core one said. And the Ministry of Industiy is pledged to Lord knows how much support funding if you build the precincts around Liverpool.

What sort of concessions have they been offering Event Horizon if I do site the cyber-precincts in Wales?

Almost the same support deal, her grandfather said. Officially. But Marchant has been playing his elder statesman go-between role to some effect; he’s made it clear that the offer only stands providing the Nationalists lose the referendum, and you announce a cyber-precinct for Wales after that. It’ll show the New Conseriatives aren’t neglecting the area.

Which is precisely why the Nationalists have been getting so much support in the first place, NN core one said. Because Wales hasn’t received much priority from this government.

What would a Welsh secession do to the New Conservative majority? Julia asked.

Reduce it to eighteen seats. Which is why they’re taking Wales so seriously for once. Chances are, with an iridependent Wales they’ll lose their overall majority at the next general election.

After seventeen years, Julia mused. That would take some getting used to.

It wouldn’t affect us much, NN core two said. Not now, Event Horizon is too well established, in this country and abroad. And it’s not as if any new government is going to introduce radically different policies. The party manifestos are virtually all variants on a theme; the only differences are in Priorities. This new breed of politicians are all spin doctor bred, they don’t pursue ideologies any more, only power Itself.

Whatever you do, Juliet, it wants to be done soon.

Yes, I suppose so.

We recommend one cyber-precinct is sited in Wales and one somewhere else, presumably Liverpool, NN core two said. it’s a compromise which makes perfect sense, and deemphasizes your role in the referendum.

Fine, I’ll notify the development division.

That just leaves the question of timing the announcement.

She massaged her temple, wishing it would ease the strain deeper inside. Yes, OK, leave it with me, I’ll think about it. What was the second query?

An anomaly I picked up on, Juliet.

A data package unfolded within her mental perception. Julia studied it for a moment. It was a bid which Event Horizon had put in for a North Italy solid state research facility, the Mousanta labs in Turin. Event Horizon’s commercial intelligence office noted that the molecular interaction studies Mousanta was doing would fit in with a couple of the company’s own research programmes. The finance division had made a buy-out offer to the owners, only to be outbid by the Globecast corporation.

Julia saw she’d turned down a request to make a higher bid. So?

So, why, Juliet, is Globecast, a company which deals purely in trash media broadcasts, making a too high offer for a solid state research lab?

Oh, come on, Grandpa; Clifford Jepson probably wants it to help with his arms sales. The chairman of Globecast had a profitable second occupation as an arms merchant. She knew that he handled a lot of extended credit underground sales to organizations which the US government didn’t wish to be seen showing any open support. In consideration, Globecast’s tax returns weren’t scrutinized too closely.

Clifford is a middle-man, Juliet, not a producer.

You think there could be more to it?

It doesn’t ring true, that’s all.

Yes. OK, Grandpa, get commercial intelligence to take another look at Mousanta, what makes it so valuable. Perhaps they’ve got a black defence programme going for the North Italy government?

Could be.

Sort the details, then.

OK, girl. There was no mistaking his eagerness.

Exit SelfCores.

Julia was back in the office, grinning at her grandfather’s behaviour. He did so love the covert side of company operations. One of the reasons he and Royan had got on so well, closeheads.

She was just refilling her teacup when the door opened and Rachel Griffith came in.

There weren’t many people who could burst in on Julia Evans unannounced. And those that did had to have a bloody good reason, invariably troublesome.

Julia took one glance at Rachel’s thin-lipped anxiety and knew it was bad. Rachel didn’t fluster easily.

“What is it, Rachel?” Julia asked uneasily.

“God, I’m sorry, Julia. I just didn’t pay it a lot of attention when she gave it to me.” Rachel Griffith held out a slim white flower-presentation box.

Julia took it with suddenly trembling fingers. The flower inside was odd, not one she’d seen before. It was a trumpet, fifteen centimetres long, tapering back to what she assumed was a small seed pod; the colour was a delicate purple, and when she looked down the open end it was pure white inside.

There was a complex array of stamens, with lemon-yellow anther lobes. The outside of the trumpet sprouted short silky hairs.

She sent an identification request into her memory nodes’ floral encyclopaedia section.