by Haidji
Black said ‘we’ll vote about it…now’.
Metz needed to go outside and wait in front of the door while they voted about the food. He could hear some crystal noises and something rolling, as would they be playing a kind of game inside the room. Invited to be part of the meeting again, Metz entered the room.
Green looked at Metz, and summarized their decision. ‘Our decision is that our vendors need to carry food to the crowd, so the system you suggest is very good. But they can’t have too many different things; less is more, so we decided for the Suicide Dog in meat and vegan, and the red fruits’ Bloodshake, with or without alcohol.’ Those would be the terms to Metz.
Metz felt that this was like going out of a Starbucks, to buy a coffee at the local greasy spoon. But he accepted their deal, to start selling his Suicide Dog and his red fruits Bloodshake, starting already on the next day, inside the Stadium. It would be a long night in the Stadium kitchen.
There was another matter for the Council. The question about whether, and how, to make one or two more rows of chairs in the Stadium.
The problem arose because now there were more and more persons outside the Stadium searching for non-existent real (or even fake) tickets, sleeping in tents in front of the entrance.
It was suggested the platform could appear to go a little bit higher up on the second step of the game, as part of the solution; for that, the ground should be excavated one meter deeper. It was easier to excavate the ground deeper and construct a new row or two of chairs along the bottom, instead of making new rows on the top sections, mostly because the structures at the top of the Stadium had been designed and optimized to the last millimeter by the Architect, Steven Laurence.
The Council wanted to make more space for the public, in order to sell even more real tickets.
Green pointed out that if the platform was too high, even just one meter higher, then some of the candidates’ organs would be destroyed when they hit the ground, so the game would lose income from organ ‘donations’ (sales).
He reminded the Council that in addition to the usual buyers of living organs, they had a new client; a firm of doctors who were into bioengineering and who would prefer undamaged organs for their experiments. They decided they would need to vote about this issue, along with the betting issue, before end of their meeting.
About the condominium, they decided, for today’s meeting at least, that the condominium system would be the same: after the first step, candidates would move into a new room and would participate in fitness lessons, and more intense neuro-linguistic programming ‘training’, and ‘meditation’.
‘The milk of amnesia is working well’, said Green, ‘no reason to increase it. Remember, in the past someone wanted to bring a pig into a courtroom to prove that it doesn’t work on humans? What a joke! They probably forgot the mice experiments of 2007 or, what?’
‘Probably…’ said Yellow one, ‘they probably forgot to mention it’, and laughed in an ironic way.
‘They probably forgot…to mention’, said Black.
Before turning back to the major items of business for the day, the Council also voted on some other minor issues.
Each one of the seven Council members had a fixed place on the round white table, and in the center of the table was a glass ball, used for the voting system. The table color in front of them, for their respective part of the table, turned into the same color as their togas.
At the beginning of the meeting all their colors and voices were checked, to make sure that they were sitting in the right place.
In front of each member there was their polished metal sphere, about 3cm in diameter, which could be opened in two equal parts. Inside each sphere was a button that changed the color inside into red or green, by pressing it; red was for disapproval and green for approval. But the light would come on only after closing and opening the sphere again…to keep the privacy of the voting system.
Common voting systems are voting by majority rule, proportional representation, or plurality voting, but this Council used none of those systems.
Instead, only one sphere would decide the answer, and this was, as six of the seven council members believed, the proper corporate governance system to keep the outcome ‘in the laps of the gods’. They believed that everyone could have the chance to decide alone and thus, a decision could legitimately be taken by any one of them (randomly and anonymously selected), no matter how many of the other members agreed or disagreed with the decision, and regardless of its impact on life, destiny, faith, or luck. This system, so they believed, should decide the way to go…and the words ‘in the laps of the Gods’ were written inside the clear tubes that would transport each voting sphere placed on the table, by each Council member, to the large crystal ball chamber in the middle.
The metal spheres came inside the tubes leading from each member’s seat, and through a conduit were dropped into the crystal ball chamber, from the topside of the chamber. They start to mix in a clockwise direction and then against the clockwise direction, for a certain period of time, depending on the number of members present for a voting decision; with 7 members, there should be 7 seconds waiting after the first mix, and then 7 seconds in each direction, again and again, until one of the spheres passed into the tube on the bottom of the crystal glass ball, falling beneath it into a conduit into a crystal bowl, where the sphere would be opened automatically, showing its red or green light; and thus answering the question that had been voted on.
After the answer was received and recorded, the sphere would be closed and come again inside the crystal ball chamber, this time coming from the bottom, where, after a new mix, all the spheres came out through the top of the glass chamber, and back into the conduit tubes, which sent them back to their resting places in front of each council member. Except now, by some probability (perhaps), the seven members each had different metal spheres than the ones they used when they last had voted.
Now it was time for the Council’s formal voting procedures to be implemented, to resolve the last items of today’s business, using the voting system. Green for yes, and red for no, leaving the main decision, as six from the seven believed it should be, in the laps of the gods.
And on this day, the answer was ‘no’ to Yellow’s suggestion and ‘yes’ to all the rest. It was a Green light, to all the Game Improvements, including for the platform to be one meter higher in the second game step, even with the risk of damaging some of the donation organs, by excavating the Stadium ground where necessary. Because it would be only one meter higher, the public’s increased number of tickets, and the new bets they made, would more than cover some organ losses they might have because of it.
The Seven signed the protocol of the day.
Black, Purple, Blue, Green, Red, Yellow and White left the room. Alphabot closed the door, just as the sun was rising over the Stadium, for the third day of the Suicide Game.
Chapter 6
Candidate 3507
Anthony Henrik Gustav was a successful lawyer who had just rented a few more rooms in the building where he had his own office. And he had hired a few more trainees, to fill the rooms, dreaming about to hire the whole building, one day.
Some years back, he decided to expand his business. Back then, like nowadays, he spent much of his precious time on airplanes, from one side of the world to another, implementing major strategic business decisions. Back then, he had decided that his law firm, bearing his name, would be the first law firm to have offices in at least two different countries and with the countries being at least over 6000 miles away from each other and having entirely different languages. Law firms with offices in two or more countries were old news, but to have a firm that met this test would be ‘news’, and he was an innovator.
His symbol AHG, embroidered on the French cuffs of every shirt he owned, of course, was already well known in the lawyer world, as well as his ability to work long hours without a break, sleep on the chairs in his office, never miss a deadli
ne, and forget to go home at night.
Working also Sundays, as would Sunday be the most important workday of the week, he lost sometimes the impression of time, but he never missed a client deadline.
Like many others in the legal game, he started from nothing, coming from an honorable but simple family, and thanks to his own efforts and a few good friends, he was where he was now, on the way to the very top echelons of the legal profession.
The lack of attention for his own family, which he compensated for with generous presents and unconsummated, platonic-only love flings with other women, were things he did not think about, as were they merely just the dust on the office window that he needed to ask to be cleaned one day; nothing really disturbing so long the sun, the moon or the stars could still shine through it, reminding him sometimes if it was day or night outside.
He was also looking for a new secretary, fat, of course, same as the last one, so as to not to raise suspicions about the nights he would spend, really working, while his wife was out with her friends or her personal trainer; the latter being more than just a platonic relationship, because AHG was never more than just part of the important decorations of status in her life.
And she…she was the step he needed for the entrance into his law firm, coming from the right family, having the right contacts for him, and the money to help to pay for the first office abroad. So rich he was now, but his richness had limits. So they silently fulfilled all the clauses of their unspoken agreement about their personal lives, not needing to speak about it.
AHG’s platonic lovers were organized at various times and locations, and being platonic they were also invited to his office, and they never created any conflict with his meager family life, because there was no family life at all.
In spite of, or perhaps because of, his brilliant legal mind, rapier quick wit and superhuman work ethic, he had become to some extent a creature of habit in what concerned the main patterns of his life actions. To sleep over his office chairs, was one of these habits.
He was working on one of his biggest cases, the biggest of all them. And he needed to think very carefully about his next steps; he thought again whether he could win again, like he always did, he never lost a case, but he also never had a big case like this. And this, this made him feel…afraid. Scared.
Recently, for perhaps the first time in his life, he had felt fear, which cut to the bone. This fear brought a certain sense of urgency. Being a man of action, not only a philosopher, he wanted to take immediate steps.
He knew that this case could allow him the expansion opportunity he dreamed about. It would float him and even better, his law firm and its logo AHG LLP, to the very top of the ocean of inflated egos in his profession. Some lawyers were predators; like sharks, they could never stop swimming, chasing their prey. Sometimes there were more sharks than readily available prey, and there were only so many hours in a day.
His case would be a game-changer. If he won it, he could create a global legal behemoth that would continuously scoop up clients and their dollars, even while he slept, as would they be endless schools of krill, silently scooped up in bulk by the giant baleen plates of a baleen whale.
But there was a problem. Actually, two problems. The problems were both double-edged swords.
One side gave him the bone-chilling fear, which he had come to like, because it gave him clarity. The other side presented clear and present dangers. And neither side was an illusion.
AHG was ruminating on his Two Problems.
Problem One: The case. He was now facing serious litigation, in the worst of all places, the United States. The litigation had not yet officially commenced, but he knew of it from private meetings with the plaintiffs’ attorneys.
After some initial private talks, ostensibly aimed at achieving a quick settlement, he had asked them to hold off filing any court papers, and to keep the matter secret, for a few more days. And, perhaps surprisingly, they had agreed.
He needed to win the case, in order to create his legal behemoth.
Problem Two: He had received a tip from a trusted friend; there was, apparently, a plot to kill him. Talk about ‘killing lawyers’ was nothing new; lawyer jokes were almost more popular than blond jokes, and people bent on vilifying the legal profession misquoted Shakespeare’s words endlessly: ‘first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers…’ But a plot to kill him? Really? His source was impeccable.
He felt both edges of the sword, sharply. And continued ruminating on his Two Problems.
He could handle Problem One using his professional skills and network. He had already formulated his defense strategy; part of it included a storyline, to be published by a leading and influential US newspaper at the right time, to help shape public opinion and the jury pool’s sympathies in his favor.
He prepared the storyline with the help of Marcel Michaelsen, his most trusted journalist friend.
The story ran like this, with some key names and places deliberately changed or omitted, in case the document would somehow fall into the wrong hands:
For the last two decades Mr. Gustav has been battling Big Oil over an environmental disaster that happened in the jungles of Brazil. Two years ago, he won a $23 billion case against the oil giant, the kind of victory that even Texas and New York lawyers mostly dream of. But Big Oil has yet to pay the award. It has filed appeals at every step and has raised Constitutional arguments, arguing for Bill of Rights protections for multinational corporations headquartered in the USA. And now, Big Oil has launched a lawsuit against Mr. Gustav, alleging a criminal conspiracy to extort and defraud Big Oil. The trial will start in a few days, in a courtroom in Manhattan.
In an exclusive interview with this reporter, Mr. Gustav for the first time spoke publicly about the case and what he says is Big Oil’s attempt to assassinate his character. He even says he’s heard Big Oil has hired enforcers to make sure he doesn’t win the case. While this might sound like the ravings of a persecuted, self-appointed Saint, Mr. Gustav does have a serious following among environmentalists and environmental lawyers. He and his supporters say he is being persecuted for exposing Big Oil’s dubious environmental record.
Big Oil has accused Mr. Gustav of engineering the ghostwriting of crucial reports submitted to the Brazilian court that decided the case, and of bribing key Brazilian witnesses. Big Oil also alleges that Mr. Gustav held secret meetings with Brazilian judges who were involved in the case. On the other hand, Mr. Gustav insists that Big Oil’s predecessor, a foreign subsidiary of another Big Oil company, cut through the Amazon and spilled oil and other toxic chemicals from the drilling operations into pristine rain forests, rivers and creeks, leaving behind a toxic mess that not only caused serious health problems for the local population but also caused one of their largest businesses, the water company Aguamazonas to fail, losing billions of dollars of future revenue from sales to their international markets.
Mr. Gustav says he traveled to Brazil in 1998 and saw what he described as an apocalyptic site, almost like a war zone, with jungle lakes and creeks filled with oil, children walking barefoot on oil-covered roads, and the Aguamazonas factory shut down entirely.
But Big Oil never accepted the validity of the court’s judgment, and it funded a documentary film, which essentially stars its CEO and some Brazilian employees, in an effort to portray Mr. Gustav as a charlatan.
Mr. Gustav has now countersued Big Oil for fraud and extortion, accusing Big Oil of defamation, corruption, bribes and threats to officials not only in Brazil, but also in America. He denies that he has ever crossed any ethical line. He is confident he will prevail, after the trial starts in Manhattan. ‘I have a surprise for them’, he says. ‘I don’t think this case will go on for months, which is what Big Oil wants. I think it will be over much more quickly than that’.
AHG and his journalist friend Marcel Michaelsen felt good about the story. They had already hired jury consultants, all of who told them they figured that no American jury was ev
er going to find against a lawyer who had gone up against big oil for years and years, and won.
Nevertheless, AHG was scared about the case and the upcoming trial and, for the first time in his life, he was afraid to death. Marcel’s help was invaluable; probably it was the only thing keeping him strong.
Together with Marcel, he found a solution for Problem Two. An unusual solution. But he knew that Marcel was a friend of some Council Member in the Suicide Game.
He needed a place to hide; and together they figured out that at least for a while, what better place could you escape to hide from someone who wants to kill you, than a place were persons kill themselves?
Using Marcel’s connection to the Council member, and subtracting some values from his Swiss account and adding them to another Swiss account, AHG entered the Suicide Game.
He was a lawyer and he knew that it would be best to trust his journalist friend, but not to tell his own lawyer about his decision.
Consciously and deliberately, he decided to become a Suicide Game candidate, in order not to be killed and maybe, who knows? Win the game. Not something you’d want to tell your lawyer, even if you trusted him.
Chapter 7
Step 1 – Day 3
Alessandra did not leave the Stadium on the first day.
It wasn’t possible for her to go out of the Stadium.
She found a vacant room, behind the scenes, with a small garden with flowers, and stayed there with the baby. The baby had an electronic bracelet, but it did not work when she tried to exit with the baby in the break after the first jump, and she did not have her own bracelet, because she took it off, angry after denying the job; an impulsive reaction, throwing it away from her.
They would not let her out, because the game already started, and she would probably be arrested if she would try to go out of there again, having tried once and failed.
