Daniel hadn't
even realized how tired he was until he drifted awake to a pleasant, cool
breeze on his face. Mildly disoriented, he rubbed his eyes and stretched—only
for his arm to come into contact with the wall of the alcove he slept in.
Daniel rubbed his face furiously. His body felt strangely heavy and lethargic.
As he sat forward in the plush automatic recliner in what appeared to be a
single-occupant train compartment (not a train; now he remembered getting onto
a bus; but why?), everything leading up to this extraordinary jaunt came
rushing back to his memory.
An envelope icon
hovered in midair before his face. Daniel tapped on it, and the icon unfolded
into a message screen.
"Arrival at
the Byblos Grand Campus in 5 minutes," it read, "Please be sure to
look your best."
Look his best?
Daniel shook his head and endeavored to straighten his rumpled shirt. He was
the victim of a hostile corporate takeover, what did he care? A piece of
paper—still favored by the older generation, but so near obsolescence that they
were used in small quantities and rarely—rustled in his pocket. Daniel dug it
out.
"Do you
see a man diligent in his work?" it
read, "He will serve before Kings.—L. Boggs."
Daniel smiled at
the memory of his mentor. The older man always demanded a stringent level of
character and professionalism from his protégées. "It's not about the job
you do," he would say, "It's about the work you do. You can be the janitor on the warehouse
floor, but perform your duties well and fully, and you may find yourself
foreman at that same warehouse, or even a technician higher up in the company.
Whatever task you are given, go at it with everything you've got. No one has
come away less than satisfied from a task at which they've given their
best."
Finally, the
lights of the cabin gently flickered on, and a mechanical voice greeted him, "You
have arrived; enjoy your stay!"
Daniel's seat
belt retracted, and he stood. Exiting the compartment, he found others slowly
filing out of the autobus.
"Dan?"
A voice erupted in the milling crowd. "Hey, Daniel!"
"Oy,
Prince!" Harry's familiar shock of red hair materialized out of the sea of
faces around him. Harry grinned and turned to call the others, "Guys! He's
over here!"
As Aaron and
Mike wormed their way through the crowd, Harry inspected Daniel's nametag.
"So what name did they give you? Benedict, huh? That's nothing, check me
out!" he displayed his nametag with mock pride. Daniel read the name
"Sherman."
"Hey
guys," Mike said as he approached, "boy am I glad to see you
two!" His nametag read "Martin."
Aaron would not
show his. He stood so it was out of view. "That's some lame excuse for a
database, if it can't register real names!" he grumbled. "What kind
of a company changes your name when they hire you?"
Daniel shrugged,
"Byblos, apparently." He glanced around. The last bus was
offloading it's passengers. Somehow, he could not believe that the twenty lines
of fifty employees was even half the workforce of Integra Communications; if
this were true, where were the rest of them? And why were they being singled
out?
He was
distracted by a whoop from Mike.
"Alexander?"
he pointed a finger at Aaron's chest. "They named you Alexander?"
Blushing, the
young man shrugged and scuffed his foot along the ground.
"Where do
we go now?" Aaron asked, abruptly changing the subject. The three looked
around. Daniel pointed to the lines forming. "Over there, I guess."
Daniel noticed
that the lines of Integra employees were being somehow registered before
entering the high white wall in front of them. Every so often, a waiting Byblos
employee would take an Integra worker by the hand and escort them off to the
side, grinning all the while. Those who "passed muster" were allowed
beyond the bank of tables and into a train of large white bullet-shaped,
open-air vehicles. They moved in a single line on tiny wheels as if on an
invisible track, shifting every time a car filled.
Daniel could not
squelch his fear as he neared the table. The woman sitting before him had the
same impeccable features as Ashley Perez. She stared at him, using her glass
tablet to scan his features. The border around his nametag flashed green, and
the woman said, "Proceed."
Daniel fought to
maintain his composure as absolutely calm. He joined the group waiting for the
next car to arrive. Daniel did not watch for it as the others did; instead, he
turned back to the line and watched his friends.
Three green
borders, three "Proceed"'s. Daniel sighed with relief.
The car
approached, and all the employees filed onto it. By the time Daniel's turn
came, there was only one seat available on the car. He gave his friends a
sympathetic wave as the car sped into the "inner realm" of the Byblos
Corporation Grand Campus.
An enthusiastic
male voice greeted them out of the speakers as they moved through the Square in
front of a high, sloping glass building.
"Hello, and
welcome to the Byblos Corporation," he said, "I am your president,
Chad King, and I can't wait to show you what's in store for you here!" As
they swept through the glass doors and into the building, Mr. King announced,
"Welcome to Byblos...where You Matter Most!"
[.....]
The car took one last turn as the tour came to a close. "And
now," Chad's voice resumed, "May I welcome you to your permanent
living quarters here at the Byblos Grand Campus!"
The cars pulled
to a stop in the middle of a hallway, and smiling Byblos representatives called
people by name to personally escort them to their doors.
"Benedict?"
a curvy redhead in a bright floral dress called.
Daniel stood.
"Follow me,
please."
She led him to a
door that bore his name engraved in platinum on the door. Daniel walked inside.
His first thought as he walked through the door was, "This is meant for
me."
Everything down
to the arrangement of the furniture to the accent colors seemed to be exactly
according to his tastes. The kitchenette cupboards and refrigerator were stocked with his favorite foods. A
custom home moderating device on the wall caused his favorite scent to rise
from the air ducts, his favorite music to play through the speakers, and
activated a fan to bring the room down to his ideal temperature. Everything in
the room was tailored specifically to him, right down to the way the clothing
in the walk-in closet was organized, to say nothing of it's fit and style.
Daniel never
made it past the front door. The minute he set foot in that room, he turned to
the redhead.
"It's too
much," he said.
The redhead was
not fazed in the least.
"Shall we
adjust the number of items in the room to better suit your preferences?"
"No; I mean
I don't want it."
"You would
like an item or items replaced?"
Daniel fought to
keep his temper with this aggravatingly simpleminded woman.
"I don't
want the room!"
"Would you
prefer another room?"
"No; I
don't—" There was just no reasoning with this girl!
Daniel decided
to cut to the chase.
"Who is
your superior?" he asked the girl.
"Ms. Perez
is in charge of all the new recruits from Integra."
"Then I
would like to speak with her."
The redhead
frowned, "But couldn't you—" she stopped when she saw the look on his
face. "Very well," she sighed. "Wait there," she pointed to
the car, "and I'll take you to her."
Daniel accepted
this answer with a nod, "Thank you."
He resumed his
seat on the car as she moved to another.
It wasn't long
before Daniel heard footsteps and looked up to see Harry, Mike, and Aaron
coming towards the car with sheepish expressions.
"When we
heard you refused your room, we decided that we did not want ours either,"
Aaron explained.
Daniel raised an
eyebrow. "Is that the only reason?"
"No,"
Harry answered quickly, "We three were sort of talking about it during the
tour; we sort of knew where it all was heading, what with the Byblos stamp of
approval on every little thing."
"Corporate
dependence," Mike remarked wryly, "Coercive brand loyalty."
The other three
gave him blank stares so he explained, "They give you all this stuff with
their brand on it, well, that's a technique to get you to believe that their
product is superior, their brand is the most reliable for quality." He
shook his head, "Most of it's a sham, though; Byblos has been doing it for
years."
"Quite
effectively too, from the kind of funds it must take to pay for corporate
housing at this level, to say nothing of the others," Harry added.
Daniel nodded,
"Well then it probably won't be too much to ask for different
accommodations."
The car brought
them down the halls and into the Office wing. It stopped in front of a wide
hypoplast door emblazoned with the words "ASHLEY PEREZ."
Daniel and his
friends stepped inside and found themselves in a spacious, elegant waiting
room.
A man with an
itchy, oily hairpiece had been waiting for them.
"What can I
do for you, gentlemen?" he asked.
Daniel smiled,
"Ah, Curtis, hello. We would like to speak with Ashley Perez."
Curtis jumped
and gulped nervously at the name. "I'm afraid that's not possible; she is
in a very important conference. I hope I will be enough to satisfy your needs.
What do you require?"
"We would
like a room."
Curtis blinked,
"A room?"
"Yes; no
frills, no bells and whistles, no personalization, just one room that the four
of us can share."
"Four of
you in one room?"
"Oh, and is
there a vegetable garden here?"
"Garden?
Well—" Curtis checked on a glass tablet, but things were hard to navigate
with sweaty, trembling fingers. "Yes, yes we do," he answered,
"out by the factories in the blue collar sector."
Daniel saw that
the fields in question were several miles away. "Do they make deliveries
here?" he asked.
Curtis looked
horrified. "Here? Bel no! We have our own line of synthetic fruits and
vegetables here. Why not be happy with those?"
Daniel shook his
head, "Because our God has called us to do differently. Could you see if
they would make deliveries, for us?"
Curtis surveyed
the list of "demands", "Well, I will have to ask Miss Perez
first—"
"Ask me
what?"
Curtis whirled
around and the young men instinctively snapped up straight as Ashley Perez
walked into the room. She gracefully snatched the glass tablet away from her
assistant.
"What's
this about, Curtis?" she brusquely scanned the list. She looked up at
Daniel.
"Is this
all?" she spoke with a hint of a sneer in her voice.
Daniel shook his
head, "No ma'am, not quite. My friends and I would like to read instead of
play games."
"I don't
follow you."
"On the
tour, we were led through a dark tunnel with all forms of entertainment—"
"The Gaming
Corridor, yes."
"And the
tour guide—Excuse me, President King—said that we would be expected to learn about
the expected level of behavior, the history, corporate code of ethics, and
various terms of speech used here, through these games and such."
"Integrated
educational entertainment, I get it; but are you really sure you want books
instead?"
"Yes;
audiobooks too, so we can hear the words spoken in the correct manner."
Ashley stared at
him.
"Let me get
this straight," she replied slowly, "You don't want the things we're
giving you—you want to downgrade?"
Daniel smiled,
still maintaining a respectful demeanor. "We come from a simpler place, so
we find that such an environment is much more comfortable."
The severe,
impeccable woman glanced back toward the office, where Daniel did not doubt she
had all the rooms under surveillance. "Your friends seem to be assimilating
well enough," she muttered, turning back. "Besides, what you ask is
out of the question. President King expressly informed me that all recruits are
to receive exactly the sane treatment as the existing workforce. If I did what
you ask, and he finds out, do you honestly think that he's going to blame you?
No, this is my ass on the line, and I'm not about to risk—"
"May I ask
for a trial period?" Daniel interrupted. "Give us what we ask for two
weeks; if, by that time you find us inferior to the others in any way, we will
gladly submit to the prescribed treatment. But if not—"
"We'll talk
again," Ashley grew terse again. "Very well; Curtis!"
The man with the
hairpiece appeared again.
"Get these
men what they want; spare nothing," she glanced dubiously over the
quartet, "We don't want to be guilty of restriction here. You," she
pointed at Daniel, "I'll give you your fresh foods and your books, but
you'll still retain clearance to all the amenities and privileges. You know, in
case you just want to try things out for the fun of it. You may never have the
opportunity again."
Daniel nodded,
"That's very kind, but I have a feeling we may never want the
opportunity."
"Oh, have
it your way!" Ashley threw up her hands. "Get out of my office.
Curtis will set you up in a suite of your own."
They turned and
followed the diminutive man, who scratched so persistently that Aaron whispered
to Daniel, "Shoot, watching him makes my own scalp crawl!"
Curtis led them
past all the posh suites, to an obscure hallway several twists and turns from
the main areas. He scanned the doorways with a small device in his hand until
one of them flashed green. He laid his hand on the lock-pad.
“This will be it,
boys,” he said grimly, standing back and allowing them through the shimmering
holoplast.
Daniel stepped in
first, followed closely by Harry, Aaron, and Mike.
The room was
suitably bare: four beds, one large closet, a bathroom with antique furnishings
from the “eco-friendly” era, and a large vidscreen on the wall. Nothing like
the executive suites, but still moderately comfortable. Daniel reached out and
tested the bed. The sheets were smooth (if a bit outdated) and the mattress was
soft—the old memory-foam instead of new massage-foam, but still soft. Daniel
nodded to Curtis.
“We’ll take it,” he
said.
“I’ll send word to
the cafeteria to have your…vegetables on
hand,” Curtis said, going over the notes on his tablet, “But Ms. Perez requests
that you eat them in the private dining area—for the trial, of course.”
He glanced around,
“Any additional requests or objections?”
The four shook
their heads. Daniel could almost swear he saw Curtis sigh with relief at being
able to finally get out of this back room.
“Good; oh, Ms.
Perez wishes me to inform you that while your accommodations and diet are being
limited as per your orders, President King has a very high standard of dress
among Byblos employees. You will still be expected to maintain that standard—“
he glanced askance at the closet, “even if you have to dress and groom
yourselves.”
Daniel had to smile
at the way Curtis reacted as if he could not fathom such a thing happening at
Byblos. That’s what the clothiers and salons were for, wasn’t it?
Curtis moved toward
the door, “Group orientation at four o’clock, then the evening meal,” he said.
“You’ll want to make sure you’ll be able to make it on time for everything
here. Don’t want to disappoint the President, now, do you?”
“No sir,” Daniel
responded. “Thank you, Curtis.”
Curtis waved his
hand dismissively and walked through the door.
Aaron was the first
to break the silence. He flopped on the second bed from the window.
“Home sweet home,”
he sighed to the other three.
>>>>>>>
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