David Edelman - Infoquake

Margaret gave a wry smile, and her face clouded up momentarily with a far-off look. Then she stood, shook off the gloom, and fetched two tiny cups of Turkish coffee from the access panel in the wall. "Natch, my father might have been a scientific visionary, but he was never a prudent businessman." She deposited one of the cups on the table in front of Natch. "Yes, he made breakthroughs in teleportation technology, but he never figured out a way to pay for them. Let us just say that TeleCo was not the only organization Marcus Surina left on the brink of bankruptcy when he died."

Natch sipped the bittersweet brew from the delftware cup and thought about his mother holed up in the towers of Old Chicago. He felt a brief surge of anger, but batted it away. "So Borda anted up," he said.

"Yes. The Surina Perfection Memecorp received one of the largest appropriations of the entire Economic Plunge. You see, it was a winwin situation. We desperately needed financial stability, and the public desperately needed confidence in the future, in their governments. And who could provide a better hope for tomorrow than the Surinas?" Natch listened carefully but could find no trace of irony in her voice. "So everyone got what they wanted. We got the funding we needed to turn ourselves around. Borda got a shining example of prosperity to show off. And the economy recovered.

"Which leads us to today.

"We have not been idle all this time. After trying its hand at a variety of projects, the Surina Perfection Memecorp has spent the last sixteen years in research and development. And now Len Borda is about to find out exactly what he paid for all these years ago." The bodhisattva's voice crackled slightly at the end of her sentence. An expression of fear? Of regret?

"The Phoenix Project," Natch said.

Margaret rolled her eyes and gave a knowing look to the Islander, who responded with a smile rich in irony. "I despise that name. Some drudge coined the term. It wasn't supposed to be so secretive. We really did start out with memory enhancers. We never intended to provoke a twenty-year guessing game on the Data Sea."

"Okay," said Natch, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "So what's this big invention then? Not memory enhancers, I take it."

"No. Not really. It's a bio/logic program. But much more than just a bio/logic program."

"You're going to have to be more specific than that."

Margaret remained maddeningly calm. She blew on her coffee and watched the wisps of steam disperse around the room. Her eyes were a lake of measureless depth. "I can't. Not yet."

The mounting tension was too much for Natch. He let out an irritated puff and threw his hands in the air. "So we're back to the original question. What do you want from me?"

"I want you to license my technology," said Margaret.

Nobody spoke for several moments. Natch bounced his gaze back and forth between Margaret and her silent companion, wondering if somehow the Patel Brothers were behind this, if they had conned Margaret into diverting him here while they solidified their number one position on Primo's. The Islander looked Natch up and down as if taking detailed measurements.

"Let me get this straight," said Natch. "You're asking me to license some new product without telling me what it is? And if that's not enough, the Defense and Wellness Council is willing to kill you to keep the whole project quiet? Well, forget it. I don't want anything to do with this. What makes you think I want Len Borda coming after me?"

The bodhisattva's demeanor softened, though whether it was an expression of sympathy or merely a change of tactics Natch could not tell. "Let me ask you a question, Natch. What's the quickest way to neutralize a poison?"

Natch thought for a moment. "Dilute it," he said.

"Precisely. Dump any poison into a large enough ocean, and its effects are nullified."

"Okay, I see what you're driving at."

"The Defense and Wellness Council sees my technology as a poison. My technology, Natch-my life's work, which I've spent sixteen years building." Margaret abruptly looped a bony finger through the handle of the coffee cup and raised it into the air. "But pour this poison into the largest ocean of all-the Data Sea-and it becomes part of the ocean itself. It becomes inert. More importantly, once you release the poison, it cannot be bottled up again. " She raised the cup to her lips and drank it to the dregs in one angry gulp.

Natch was beginning to get the impression he was not here for a business opportunity so much as an audition. He remembered all the scenes he had set up throughout the years: his confrontations with Brone, his challenges to Captain Bolbund, his ascent to the top of Primo's. Margaret Surina had prepared a script, and she had a part for him to play.

He once again shook off the stifling air, the slowly tightening constriction around his throat. "There's something you're not telling me," he said. "If you want to nullify the poison, go ahead and dump the specs on the Data Sea right now and get it over with. Why bother with the hassle of setting up a licensing agreement with a fiefcorp?"

The bodhisattva nodded pensively. "It's not that simple. This is a complex project. If this program fails to capture the public's imagination, then the Council can just swoop in and take control without a single protest. Besides, the Phoenix code is dangerous code, if it's not handled properly. If we just floated the specs out onto the Data Sea, who knows what could happen? I absolutely refuse to have blood on my hands." Margaret held her hands in front of her face and stared at them as if they were alien artifacts. "No, this situation has to be handled with the utmost precision. Which is why you're here, Natch.

"I need a licensee who can do two things. First, he needs to generate enough ripples on the Data Sea to make the Council stay its hand until I unveil the technology. And then he needs to quickly develop a workable prototype to show the world this technology is real."

"Wait a minute," cried Natch, slicing his hand through the air. "You've spent sixteen years building this fucking thing, and you don't even have a workable prototype?"

Margaret was unfazed. "I have many, but none I trust to act flawlessly in front of billions of people. The Council has forced my hand too early."

"All right, fine. So when are you unveiling the Phoenix Project?"

"The end of next week, at the cultural festival honoring Sheldon Surina's four hundredth birthday. Until then, all we need is a little bit of uncertainty. You're an outsider, Natch, and outsiders bring complications. Loose ends. The more Borda fears I have let others in on the Phoenix Project, the more he will hesitate to act."

Natch set his chin on his fist in consternation. He had learned many years ago never to get locked into a situation without an elaborate and many-layered plan for escape. Then he thought of Margaret's words: More money and more power than you can possibly imagine. What were money and power? Mere words, vowels and consonants, scrapings of tongue on tooth. But what they represented: open doors. A way out. A way up.

"So why me?" he said at length.

"Because you are the best," replied Margaret without hesitation. "Because you are young and hungry. Because you work quickly and demand absolute perfection from your team. Because this enterprise requires someone with a flair for ... showmanship." She waved her hand and summoned a message in holographic letters on the table. "I need the person who can accomplish this."

Natch scanned the letters and promptly switched his PokerFace program back on.

The Vault has detected a DNA-assisted decryption attack directed at your account. Your holdings have not been compromised, but it is advised that you periodically check the security of your Vault account. This advisory has been automatically routed to the custodian of records for your L-PRACG and, depending on your L-PRACG's policies, may also be forwarded to the Defense and Wellness Council.