David Edelman - Infoquake

Is This the Long-Awaited New Surina Technology, or Just a Publicity Stunt?

John Ridglee's morning commentary quickly morphed to keep pace, sending his fawning profile of Pierre Loget to an out-of-the-way side column. Before long, the two drudges were engaged in a frenzied competition to see who could quote more unnamed industry sources offering the wildest speculation about the Phoenix Project.

Within an hour, the entire world had shifted its focus to the upcoming 400th birthday celebration of Sheldon Surina. Curious onlookers from Earth to Luna to the farthest orbital colonies began tracking the comings and goings at the Surina compound, hoping to find clues to what Margaret had been up to for the past twenty years. Even those with little interest in bio/logics began streaming into Andra Pradesh to soak up the electric vibe in the air.

Horvil and Jara camped on opposite sofas in the engineer's apartment and watched Surina mania overtake the Data Sea. L-PRACG politicians stood up in open sessions to spout platitudes about the impact of another breakthrough Surina technology. One after another, the creeds released statements spelling out their positions on scientific innovation. The Islanders raised their obligatory protest about technology being thrust upon them against their will; the orbital colonies raised their obligatory protest about technology not reaching them quickly enough. The bio/logics markets careened up and down as investors decided the end was near or the best was yet to come. Even the revered Bodhisattva of Creed Objectivv emerged from seclusion to make some inscrutable pronouncement about the state of Universal Truth in the wake of the Surinas' accomplishments.

"I don't get it," Jara said, throwing her hands up in confusion.

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

"Yes, but think about it for a minute, Horv. People have been talking about this stupid Phoenix Project for years now. Natch was just throwing around rumors about it a few days ago. Why is everybody so interested now? What's changed?"

Horvil bounced his arm off a stack of dirty laundry on the couch, trampoline-like. "It's called public relations. The Surinas are masters at it."

"You think all this hubbub comes from a few leaks to the drudges?"

"That's exactly what I think."

"But-"

"Come on, Jara. Don't you remember what happened a month ago? We've seen firsthand how this shit happens."

The analyst twirled a few stray locks of curly hair, trying to mask her sudden embarrassment. Horvil was right. They had personal expe rience with the capriciousness of the public imagination, and with the ways a few, choice power brokers could channel the energies of sixty billion people to their cause.

Horvil fixed her with a narrow-eyed stare. "What's wrong?" he said.

"If what Merri says about us licensing the Phoenix Project is true, then all this publicity is going to be really good for business."

"But?"

"But once Natch gets in the spotlight, who's to say someone's not going to hijack all this attention and turn it against him?"

Serr Vigal settled back into his chaise longue, mumbling something about how creaky his joints got in erratic gravity and how glad he was to be back from his latest visit to Patronell for memecorp funding. But Natch was distracted, not listening. "Tomorrow will be a momentous day," said the neural programmer, in an effort to catch his protege's attention.

"Tomorrow, I finally get to find out what this Phoenix Project is," said Natch. "It had better be worth all the trouble."

"Margaret still won't tell you?"

"No. I haven't heard a word from her in days. She's totally prived herself to the world. I can't even get her to sit down with me to iron out the details of this contract addendum." Natch shook his head glumly. "I just hope Len Borda gives her the chance to explain herself."

"Why, has he been making more threats?"

The entrepreneur swiveled around and gave his mentor a puzzled expression. "Threats? Haven't you been paying attention to the news? Borda's got several legions of Council troops heading for Andra Pradesh right now. That's not a threat. It's a bloody declaration of war."

A cloud of hoverbirds darkened the sky over Andra Pradesh late Tuesday afternoon. The troops disembarked in the fields west of the city instead of at the commercial hoverbird facility, and before long an army of white was marching towards the Surina compound. Several thousand Defense and Wellness Council officers moved with perfect synchronization through the streets of Andra Pradesh. A few curious vendors hung around to gawk, but most quickly packed up their wares and fled before the advancing army. The soldiers in white trudged on. There would be no looting on High Executive Borda's watch.

The Surina security forces stood their ground at the base of the mountain, looking scared, outgunned and hopelessly outnumbered. The chief of security positioned himself directly in front of the compound gates, trying to present a model of dignity to the green-andblue troops behind him. The Council had not made such a display of force in several years, at least not in a connectible city. One would have to look back to the Melbourne riots during the Economic Plunge to find an incident of actual large-scale combat.

The Defense and Wellness Council troops reached the base of the mountain and came to a halt. Their ranks were neatly bisected by the shadow of the Revelation Spire. Is there any force in the solar system capable of opposing them? the security chief asked himself.

The legion's commanding officer stepped out from her formation and strode calmly up to the chief of Surina security. The chief took stock of the woman's white robe and yellow star, the smock she wore over her shoulders as a mark of office, the gray boots which seemed impervious to the monsoon season's mud. Holstered at her right side was a two-handed dartgun. The Surina security chief wondered what bio/logic code sat on the tips of those darts, waiting for a fresh blood stream to infiltrate.

The chief's own darts were programmed to kill. With Margaret Surina's explicit authorization.

"Towards Perfection," announced the Defense and Wellness Council officer as she flashed a quick hologram of her public profile. Commander Tanis, it read, 242nd Brigade. Volunteering directory profiles was one of the few meaningless gestures Borda had made to public relations over the years. "I have been ordered by High Executive Len Borda to secure the Surina compound and the city of Andra Pradesh." Her tone of voice indicated that the occupation was a foregone conclusion.

The security chief stayed put. "Please convey our thanks to the high executive, but Her Eminence the Bodhisattva of Creed Surina needs no additional protection."

"Nevertheless," replied Tanis icily, "the Council has been charged by the Creeds Coalition to protect its interests here, and protect them we will."

This was a new development. The Surina official scratched his bald pate in puzzlement. "You're here to protect the Creeds Coalition's interests? From what? We are a creed."

Commander Tanis did not hesitate a heartbeat. "Large public gatherings bring a high risk of damage and destruction." Tanis held out her hand, palm up, and displayed a holographic message in the air. "Bodhisattvas of several major creeds have asked the high executive to protect the common cultural heritage of the creeds here at the Surina compound." The security chief examined the letter, confirmed that it stated precisely what the Council woman said, and noted dejectedly that it did indeed bear an authentic signature from the secretary of the Creeds Coalition. But he nearly erupted with laughter when he saw what "common cultural heritage" Borda presumed to be protecting.