Hari Kunzru - Transmission

‘Bad luck,’ said Mr Shahid in a slightly stunned tone.

‘Bad luck,’ said Mr Al-Rahman.

It took him nine strokes to reach the first green.

‘Perhaps,’ said Mr Al-Rahman, watching him line up his third putt, ‘you should tell me what you feel you can do for my company.’

Guy considered retrieving his laptop from the cart. His creatives had spent hundreds of hours preparing audio, video and still imagery to accompany this pitch. But the sun was beating down, and even if Al-Rahman were receptive to visual stimuli, it was doubtful he’d be able to see the screen. So he swallowed hard and began. ‘What I do,’ he told them, ‘is take a business and transform it from being an abstract thing into an entity that consumers can feel emotional towards.’

‘Bad luck, Mr Swift,’ said Mr Al-Rahman.

‘I didn’t make a shot yet.’

‘Oh, my apologies. Perhaps you are fatigued by the game. You would maybe prefer just to walk and talk?’

‘Yes, absolutely. Great. Yes.’

‘You were saying?’

‘Um, right. You see, there’s a virtuous circle. Perhaps later I could show you a picture of it.’

‘Of the circle?’

‘Yes. You see a happy brand is a learning brand. A brand should make you feel good, because if it knows what makes you feel good, then it can position itself correctly and help you to make your choice. And if once you’ve made your choice the brand nurtures and protects you like a caring parent — and here I’d really like you to imagine some emotional imagery of a baby — then you feel good about the choice you’ve made and the brand learns from your good feelings.’

‘And the circle?’

‘Exactly it’s a circle.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t see what you mean.’

‘Oh, OK. Well, this would probably be easier with the graphic, but in essence what I am proposing to do is to help Al-Rahman Resorts get a GPS reading on its location in the heart-and-mind topography of the consumer. The method Tomorrow * uses, which is a proprietary process, is called TBM. This stands for Total Brand Mutability, and like I say it’s our thing. No one else will be able to do TBM analysis for you, or will provide Brand Mutation Vector Maps, which are the tool we use to help our clients achieve their full Brand Evolution Potential. Tomorrow * will generate a full ongoing set of vector maps — in fact, I’ve got a sample on the computer if you’d like to see it?’

Mr Al-Rahman was practising his tee shot. He shook a finger at Guy. Guy made the thumbs up.

‘OΚ. Well, maybe I’ll show you the vector maps in a bit. But um —’ He watched Al-Rahman drive his ball down the fairway. Shahid and Abdullah congratulated him on the shot. Guy was embarking on an explanation of the increasing importance of brand definition in an uncertain leisure climate when without warning Al-Rahman leaped into his cart and sped off in the direction of the next green.

They followed, with Abdullah at the wheel, his dish-dash ballooning up as they flew over the bumps, exposing a pair of long black knee socks. ‘You are not a golfer,’ he said accusingly to Guy. Guy admitted that this was true, technically speaking. Abdullah snorted.

‘Please,’ said Mr Al-Rahman, when they finally caught up with him, ‘explain to me clearly what you can do for my business.’

‘Right,’ said Guy, trying to concentrate. ‘A question for you, sir. Do you think your employees are living the Al-Rahman brand in a holistic way? What does Al-Rahman actually stand for?’

‘We are a very old family, Mr Swift.’

‘Sure, sure. But you know, at the moment Al-Rahman stands for — well, for golf. And that’s it. Golf is great, don’t get me wrong. But is it really something your people can get behind? At Tomorrow *, my team came up with a kind of banner heading about where we feel your company is at now. We think of you as “the faithful”. We have this great animation for the concept. You see this guy hitting a hole in one and it says in like, your traditional Arabic calligraphy style, “There is no game but golf and Al-Rahman is its prophet.” ’

There was a silence. Guy tried to fill it.

‘You have to go under the surface and think about why people play golf. Golf means freedom. Golf means, um, style. The way Tomorrow * sees it, the Al-Rahman “faithful” should become the Al-Rahman “rangers”. Rangers, that’s our heading, right? For being able to get out there and do your thing. Anyhow — the basic thrust of our plan is to take Al-Rahman beyond golf and into the realm of total leisure experience. That way your employees, golfers or not, will have feelings of greater identification and inclusivity about the Al-Rahman brand. Your consumers too.’

Mr Al-Rahman looked at Guy, then called Shahid aside and whispered something in his ear. Shahid nodded and whispered something to Abdullah, who made a phone call.

‘Mr Swift,’ said Al-Rahman, shaking Guy’s hand, ‘I am very grateful to you for taking the trouble to come out here and share with us the benefit of your experience.’

‘Thanks very much. No problem. I just hope that later on I can show you the creative work we’ve done.’

That won’t be necessary,’ said Shahid. Al-Rahman walked away and started to settle himself in his cart.

Guy opened his mouth, and closed it again. Al-Rahman steered the cart in a wide arc, drawing up next to Guy. Shahid put his bag of clubs in the back and got in beside his boss. Al-Rahman, for the first time during the meeting, removed his thick black sunglasses to reveal a pair of weary heavy-lidded eyes.

‘Mr Swift,’ he said, ‘the green fees on this course are the highest in the Middle East. We have a driving range which can accommodate up to 200 people at once. We have a swing-analysis lab which utilizes software developed by our own experts. It is a question of respect, Mr Swift. I like to do business with people who respect the things I do. You, I suppose, respect other things, such as your circles and maps. So I say to you, go and do business with men who like circles and maps. In the meantime please accept the hospitality of the beach resort. Abdullah will be pleased to dine with you and perhaps share with you the appreciation of some of our world-famous nightlife. I wish you a safe flight home.’

With that, he drove away.

Sometimes there is fear ahead of the curve. Sometimes in a hotel bathroom you may visualize an immense white-capped wave bearing down on you. Then there is nothing for it but the minibar, the crawl towards the red dot of the television, the dissected room-service tray silhouetted by the open refrigerator door. Guy poured vodka miniatures over ice and sat on the end of the bed, trying to work out what to do. He was fucked. That was all there was to it. Yves had phoned, asking for confirmation that Al-Rahman and PEBA were the only two pitches they were working on. ‘I really hope they happen for you,’ he had said. That was clear enough.

Next door there was a party. Through the wall he could hear music and the sound of laughter. There were people out on the balcony. He took his drink to the window and furtively looked out. They were women, five, maybe six of them, all beautiful; European and Asian women in evening dresses. Thigh and cleavage. High heels. A short middle-aged man was among them, a cellphone in one hand, the other kneading the breast of a tall blonde in a silver sheath dress. She looked down at him indulgently. The others seemed either not to notice or not to care. The man’s white dress shirt was unbuttoned almost to the waist, showing a brown expanse of hairy chest and belly. As Guy watched, he took the blonde’s wrist and pulled her inside.

The vodka ran out and he started on the gin. A repetitive bass thud came through the wall, like an amplified racing heart. His life appeared to him as a web or a suspension bridge, each tensed element related to the next. Remove Tomorrow * and what would be left? Downstairs the lobby opened out on to an atrium which reached a giddy twenty storeys up towards the little box in which he sat, finishing the gin and moving on to the whisky. A structure wrapped around a vast emptiness. It all seemed part of the same improbable joke, the atrium, the rows of balconies, the restaurants; 2,000 rooms full of people like himself breathing freeze-dried artificial air and watching cubes of desalinated water melt in their glasses. And beneath their feet, somewhere under the foundations, the red shifting desert.