Sitting up, he grimaced. “Hey, you know I’m trying.”
“Well, maybe you should try harder, and earlier. And maybe lighten up on the recreational hits a little, ‘til you get a job or get back in school. We can’t afford them.”
As she half-closed the door, he threw the pillow her way. “You’re no fun in the morning.”
She looked out, putting toothpaste on a brush. “But I don’t recall you saying that last night.”
At that same time Callie’s father was walking up the curved, carpeted staircase to the office of Paul Burke, the U.S. Chief Operating Officer of USNet.
“Hey,” David said, depositing his files and sitting at Burke’s polished mahogany conference table.
On the corporate organizational chart they were unequal equals. The two men were about the same age and enjoyed working out in the corporate gym and playing golf together. Paul Burke, almost bald, was head of U.S. Operations, which made him de facto #2 in the company. But he had counterparts in Europe and Asia. David Sawyer, on the other hand, ran real estate operations worldwide, interacting with all three managers, and, like Burke, reported directly to Knox. The result left David and Paul as near-equals in the U.S., and they helped each other whenever they could.
As David took out copies of his real estate summary they heard a noise coming from the video screen on the wall, and Knox slid into his chair facing them, live from Los Angeles.
“Gentlemen.” He smiled and nodded, his eyes darting to the agenda in front of him. As was customary for all of the company’s executives, Knox wore a straight collar white shirt, dark suit and conservative tie. “It’s beautiful out here. We’ve had a full morning, and at lunch we’ll give five million dollars in university prizes from our USNet Free Speech Foundation. And I’ve asked the foundation board to consider a large grant to the church that was bombed on Sunday.”
“That would be very good,” Burke said.
“Yes.” He took out his gold pen and lightly tapped it on the table as he ticked off their agenda. “Let’s see. Paul and I need to talk about the U.S. numbers, the purchase of E-News and several other possible acquisitions. But there’s also a lot of real estate, so, David, please begin.”
Sawyer started through his list, but before he could mention Kristen’s nearly completed negotiations for their new office space, Knox interrupted.
“I’ve decided not to expand in Hong Kong, David. I’d rather divide the operation between Singapore and Seoul. In fact, cut back in Hong Kong to a minimal presence and instead expand in Beijing so that we can better influence the Chinese government.”
David felt his hands tightening around the thick report on their new Hong Kong office, but he replied in an even voice, “You suggested that we expand in Hong Kong last fall. We’ve already hired people there.”
“I understand.” The pen made a single tap. “But for now I want to pull back from Hong Kong and focus on other Asian cities. And since we’re behind in securing space, please hurry to find suitable locations.”
David nodded. “All right.” He swallowed. “The next item on our agenda should save some money.” He summarized his plan to purchase Capital Tower, add it to the Grand, and create a new headquarters for USNet, all of which he demonstrated would substantially reduce their operating budget. “What do you think?”
Knox considered for a moment and then nodded. “Sounds good.”
He knew that Knox’s informal OK was all he needed to take the project to the next decision point. He made a note on his pad.
David moved through the rest of the agenda. As he finished the last item, he pushed his papers together and turned to Paul Burke.
But Knox interrupted. “David, I’ve got one more thing. Our movie production here in Los Angeles is exploding. We need to expand and vertically integrate the process, from hiring the actors to shooting the movies to distribution. Paul has had a team working secretly on the acquisition of ten companies. We’re close, but we need you to assess the real estate. Paul will give you a confidential list of the companies, and we need your input, without anyone knowing why you’re looking. Can you do that?”
“How quickly?”
“Two weeks.”
David looked down at his papers and pursed his lips. He turned his wedding band beneath the table. “Isn’t President Harper going after the kinds of movies we make? I mean, I like them as much as the next guy.” He smiled. Particularly the site visits. “But aren’t she and Congress about to kill the industry?”
Knox sat up. “Harper can try, but we have the votes in Congress to prevent her from hurting us. She’s playing to her political base, trying to dictate what Americans watch. What we give them doesn’t hurt anyone.” He smiled. “The good news is that all the talk from the White House has people in the adult movie industry nervous, so now is the time to buy. That’s why we need your input quickly.”
Sawyer glanced once at his colleague, then back to Knox on the screen. “All right. We’ll get it done. When can I have the list of the firms and facilities?”
Burke moved a folder on the table in front of him. “It’s ready for you.”
David picked up the folder and flipped through the first few pages. “We’ll start today, and we’ll be discreet.”
“Good, David,” came the reply from the screen. “Now, if that’s all the real estate, Paul and I will finish up the budgets.”
David rose, the expanded pile of papers in his hand. “I’ll be back to you as soon as I can.”
A few hours later Callie Sawyer and her brother Rob were exchanging text messages.
Calliente: What’s up?
RobSaw: About to start SW 2100. How was ur test?
Calliente: OK. But no time to study.
RobSaw: Same. History tomorrow.
Calliente: I remember Ms. Gillstrap.
RobSaw: She’s tough.
Calliente: You play videos a lot.
RobSaw: I’m good. You act a lot.
Calliente: I’m good. J
RobSaw: Hope so. When’s ur first movie?
Calliente: Not sure. Five years?
RobSaw: Sooner. U R good. ☺
Calliente: Thanks bro. How are m&d?
RobSaw: The same. Work and worry.
Calliente: OK. Gotta go. Good luck in the street war.
RobSaw: Thanks.
Late that afternoon Paul Burke knocked on the open door to David’s office. “About what happened in Knox’s office,” Burke began as he walked in and took a seat. “the only thing I knew about was the Cinema Group acquisitions in Los Angeles. The first I heard about dumping Hong Kong was when you did.”
David shook his head. “The good news and the bad news are that we work for Trevor Knox. Do you think he knows how much we’ve already invested in Hong Kong?”
“It doesn’t seem to matter. Can you make the change?”
“Probably, but we’re pretty thin. I’ll have to take up the slack. Kristen will get Capital Tower kicked off here, then she’ll head to Seoul and Singapore. I gave Moscow to Todd this morning, but now I’ll take it. I was just writing an email to the broker who helped us last year.
“I obviously can’t ask Kristen or Cheryl to work on Los Angeles. Kristen gets upset about the Platinum Club. What would she say about our movie sets?” He paused. It was an occasional discussion point among the company’s senior executives that Knox travelled to Los Angeles more often than business issues required; he seemed to take a personal interest in this particular USNet product. “Aren’t our films about one hundred percent porn now? I don’t remember them being that way when we started.”
Burke cleared his throat. “Adult films,” he corrected, “and the profit is incredible. It’s a market that’s exploding for us, and these acquisitions should be even more profitable. We’re just going where our customers take us. The only competition is the free stuff being posted on share sites. So now we’re funding two of those as well, and sharing the income with the people who provide the material. A re
gular cottage industry on the internet.”
“I’m so proud. Well, anyway, I’ll get the ball rolling on the movie companies in Los Angeles and then go to Moscow. So, how are your budgets?”
Burke leaned back. “They’re fine. Quarterly earnings will be up again. If we were a public company the Wall Street guys would love us. But, tell me, do you need more staff ?”
David looked at his friend for a long moment. “Paul, we need at least twice as many. You don’t just read a book and do a multi-million-dollar lease the next day. Todd and Chris are good examples. They’re not as far along as Kristen, but they’re starting to be productive. What we talked about upstairs should take a much larger team several months to finish.”
Burke thought for a moment. “Lay out the new real estate group space in Capital Tower for twice as many people. How does that sound?”
He smiled. “I just hope we live to see it.”
“You’re home early,” Elizabeth said, as David opened the door from the garage. She was slicing potatoes at the kitchen’s central island; he walked over and kissed her cheek. A pile of clothes spread onto the ceramic tile floor from the laundry area behind the kitchen, the dryer whirred, and roasting beef sizzled in the oven.
“I just felt like coming home on time.”
She stopped and turned to him. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah…sure. I’m just a little tired after last night, and felt like coming home at six.”
“Well, we like that.” She smiled and picked up another potato. “Dinner’s going to be a little late. My last client hadn’t filed her taxes for years. After you change, go check on Rob. I think he could use some help with a big history test tomorrow.”
“OK,” he said, heading toward their bedroom and trying to remember what era Rob was studying.
Ten minutes later he had changed into khaki pants and was standing outside their son’s bedroom on the second floor. He thought he could hear Rob talking. He knocked, but there was no response. He knocked louder. Then he tried the door. Locked.
Inside the room, Rob was standing on a special virtual reality floor plate. He wore a helmet and vest, and carried a plastic gun simulator; all three were connected wirelessly to his computer, and then to the Internet. Almost as tall as his father, Rob’s helmet and vest made him immense; he carried his machine gun with practiced ease. From inside his helmet he peered around the corner of a virtual brick building in a burned out portion of the central business district
The street he looked down was wide and deserted, with only a few nearly destroyed cars littering the way. The late afternoon sun created shadows on the left side and bursts of light on the right, reflecting off the few still unbroken windows. One car was smoldering from an earlier fire. Rob looked across the street to his right and nodded to his best friend and partner, Justin Napier, also fifteen. Justin had taken cover behind a building on the opposite corner. Crouched behind each of them were the two newest members of their team. Rob and Justin edged out into the street on opposite sidewalks, their machine guns at the ready on their shoulders, training them back and forth across the cars and the open windows of the adjoining buildings. Without looking, Rob heard the new team members taking up covering positions behind them.
“I saw one of them run this way,” Rob said into the microphone in his helmet.
“Yeah, a little guy with a pistol,” Justin replied.
“There are probably more.” Rob made it to the first car, which had apparently crashed into a light pole when its driver was hit. No one was inside.
Justin continued down the street, while Rob paused, using the car as cover. Rob began to train his machine gun over Justin’s head when out of the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of light in a second story window on his side.
“Upper left!” Rob yelled, and quickly turned his machine gun toward the window, arcing out a spray of bullets.
But he was not fast enough. The gun barrel in the window flashed. Justin went down as the fiery tracers hit all around him.
“Aagh! I’m hit,” Justin screamed.
“I’m coming,” Rob yelled, running to his right and continuing to fire into the window, while their comrades came up and added firepower to the melee.
“Watch our backs!” He made it to Justin and began dragging him into an open doorway. As he did so, a grenade floated across the street and landed on the sidewalk next to them. Without a moment’s hesitation, Rob scooped it up and threw it back toward the window where he had seen the barrel. Grabbing Justin, he rolled into the doorway as the grenade exploded a foot from the window, sending shrapnel up and down the street.
“Come on,” Rob said, as he dragged his friend inside. Justin was holding his upper leg. Blood gushed out around his fingers. Rob pulled out his first-aid kit and applied pressure to the wound. “I’ll get you out of here,” he said. “You’re going to be all right.”
A new team member—Rob couldn’t remember his name—ran up, took one look at Justin, and quickly turned away.
“I’ll cover the door,” he said.
The door. Someone was knocking. What?
David knocked again, even louder. The door finally opened, and his son stood before him—baggy shorts, shirt tail out, a virtual reality helmet on his head, the visor up. “Oh,” came the greeting, as Rob turned and walked back to his entertainment center.
“Hey, how was school?” David asked his son’s back.
“Huh? Oh,” he turned to his father, putting on his virtual reality gun, toggling the connect switch, and moving toward the USNet Virtual Reality floor plate. “Good.”
“How are you doing?”
Rob smiled from inside the helmet. “It’s awesome. There are, like, about ten thousand of us all linked together and we’re fighting Street War 2100. I’m on the blue team. When you knocked I was helping Justin. He’s wounded. I gotta get back. You ought to see this gun I’ve got.” Rob picked up a three-foot plastic wand and plugged it into the connection point on his belt. “This baby fires both hollow point shells and grenades. You ought to see it splatter ‘em.”
David knew about the games that USNet sponsored online, twenty-four hours a day. Virtual reality groups came together from all over the world to fight epic battles, street brawls, aerial dogfights—anything the USNet programmers could imagine. There were now over a hundred such battles going on continuously. Individuals logged in and out, keeping their characters and roles intact as the battle progressed. Besides charging well for participation in these virtual battles, USNet had chat rooms, strategy sessions, and cyber magazines dealing with each one; and twice a week outstanding individual efforts were noted and the videos of their exploits replayed for the other participants. Rob played Street War 2100 almost daily.
“I’m sure it’s awesome,” David replied. “How you been doing?”
“I’ve been online since school, ‘til I had to pause when you knocked, and I’ve only been, like, wounded once. And”—he flipped his visor down to review the battle summary up to that point—“I’ve killed five and wounded twenty.”
David spoke to the opaque visor covering his son’s eyes. “What about school? Mom says you have a history test tomorrow.” He glanced over at the books lying on the bed.
“Yeah. Sure. I’ll look at my notes after supper. No sweat.” He turned back to his terminal.
“Well, you need to study, but I’m glad you’re enjoying this stuff.”
Rob pushed Enter and then stepped onto the VR floor plate, looking over at his father. “It’s awesome. Like, wait a minute.” He swiveled the helmet’s microphone in front of his mouth. “Yeah. I’ll be there in a second. Hold on.” He placed his free hand over the mike. “Dad, I gotta go. They, like, need me. Let me know when dinner’s ready.” He started to turn away.
“OK.”
“Blue Nine is back. Where are you, Blue Ten?”
Rob faced away, and David watched him for a few moments on the VR floor plate, ducking and firing his “gun” at the enemies he was
seeing in his visor. David turned, held the door as if he were going to say something else, then closed it and went downstairs.
“He’s having fun,” he said to Elizabeth as he entered the kitchen, “and it’s a good way to learn that you have to take your lumps, get up, and keep fighting.” He walked to the refrigerator for some iced tea.
“But what about his history test?” Elizabeth asked from the breakfast area, as she set the table.
David shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll do fine. It’s just a break after school, before he has to study. He’ll be OK.”
“I’m not sure. He’s a different person this year.”
David smiled. “He’s a teenage boy. He’ll be different every day.”
“No, I mean really different,’ she said, shaking her head. “And isn’t that game that he plays from USNet?”
He stirred some sweetener into the tea and then put down the spoon. “Yes.” He nodded without looking up. “And all of the equipment we bought him is very expensive.” He turned to face her. “I don’t want it to go to waste. It’s just a game, made possible by technology that our company provides to the world. I think we should let Rob use it, and not bug him over one test. He’ll be fine.”
“But I think we should…”
He raised a hand. “He’ll be fine. Trust me. I was his age once.”
She started to say more, but David picked up his iced tea and headed for the den. She shook her head and put down another knife.
That evening around a conference table in a private school’s boardroom in Detroit, twelve men were reviewing spreadsheets that showed their foundation’s progress for the year. The meeting was led by Rahim Tahymouri and Amir Ali, the co-chairs of the charitable organization.
Rahim guided the men’s eyes across the report. “As you will see, moving from left to right across the headings, we have figures for the total number of cities where we have Community Organizers, Candidates, Elections Within a Year, Elected Officials, Community Centers, and Schools. And the change in each category since last month.”
Enemy In the Room Page 3
