The movement of the bus turned Kate into an unobtainable speck of distant memory. So Kurt thought, at least, until an advertising placement of unprecedented size filled his vision. It was a sticky pop-up — the kind that moved with the target consumer’s eyes. The worst kind. His first instinct was to close it but he read the words and grew intrigued. “She sure is a hot one!” appeared above a picture of someone who looked just like Kate but without the lower of her two freckles.
Kurt clicked the link that said “Interested?” and instantly wished he hadn’t. More pictures of not-quite-Kate appeared — more explicit ones — and words played in his ears from a male voiceover who sounded like he should have been advertising cheap carpets.
“We saw you stare and we felt your heart pounding. You can’t have her, but here’s the next closest thing! XXX-rated pics and videos of this spitting image lookalike are available from just $4.99. Or treat yourself to a mind-blowing, full-immersion, pre-recorded cam show for only $29.99. If you’re the kind of guy, Kurt Jacobs, who really likes to party, we can arrange a more intimate encounter with your dream girl at a time of mutual convenience. Select your choice below.”
Kurt’s choice was to exit. Apparently Sycamore had entered the pimping business. Everything about the bus journey had annoyed Kurt but this disgusted him. The five-minute walk to HQ from the terminus offered just enough time for him to regain composure in preparation for a showdown with Amos.
~
“Kurt, you made it! I was about to give up and leave. What brings you, anyway?” Amos sat comfortably on one of his floor’s randomly-placed sofas. He patted the seat beside him in invitation for Kurt to join him.
“Annoyance, mainly.”
“With anything in particular?”
“Well, I was coming here because I was annoyed, but then I got annoyed at loads of other things on the way. Some of the things are less important but I’ll start with them before I forget. I got the bus here. Everyone was playing Happy Pigs.”
“So?”
“So I didn’t spend four years designing this thing so that people could pretend to be pigs and play at rolling around in mud. That’s actually what you do in the game! You roll around in mud. Like a pig. Like evolution was wrong and we should be happy rolling in mud.”
“You don’t have to like it, hotshot, but it’s been selling like nothing else. It’s like we’re fish and it’s shark repellant. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. But really, there’s no sense in getting annoyed that people like stupid things. Their lives are pointless and difficult... why grudge them a little game on the bus-ride to work if it makes them happy?”
“Happy like pigs in mud,” said Kurt. “Happy being pigs in mud!”
A cleaner emerged from the elevator and Amos shooed her away with a wave of his hand. “Tell me then,” he continued, “what else was annoying you?”
“More serious stuff. Like the fact that you’re running facial recognition on normal girls and trying to sell men prostitutes who look like them.”
“We don’t do that. The kind of adult placement I assume you saw only relates to women you’ve looked at for more than a few seconds, and only if the Seed detects that they caused a spike in your pulse. There’s no prostitution involved, either: consumers can view images, watch a pre-recorded cam show or enjoy an interactive video-call when the girl is next available. That’s it.”
“Do you not hear how insanely perverted this all sounds? Tracking guys’ heart-rates to sell them lookalike cam shows?”
“Sex sells,” Amos shrugged. “Why not sell sex?”
“It’s not like these are women who have chosen to be models, though. You’re selling the fantasy of an innocent and unknowing girl on the street. You can’t tell me that’s not wrong. The girl was Kate, by the way. The one you fired after the contest.”
“I should have known you had a thing for her. But she never really worked here. Considering the audacity of your big play at the Talent Search, it’s a goddamn miracle that we managed to keep collateral damage down to just one intern.”
“Whatever. The suggested ‘adult partner’ looked crazily like her. How many girls are on there?”
“A couple of thousand, I think. I’d have to check.”
“Thousand?!”
“It’s a big world. Lots of girls who like money. SycaWhores, you might say.” Amos grinned at himself.
“See,” sighed Kurt, “this is it. The Seed can do anything and it’s doing this. It’s doing Happy Pigs and cam shows.”
“I honestly think the camwhores are a temporary thing. There’s a team working on something that will eliminate the need for them. It’s a virtual wingman to help men communicate effectively with the girls they’re lusting over. I can’t explain it much better than that but you’ll see soon enough.”
“Can’t wait. When I pitched a microchip that turns you into a computer with your hand as the trackpad I always dreamed it would come down to helping people get laid.”
“I don’t need a lie detector app to tell that you’re being facetious, hotshot, but trust me when I tell you that it doesn’t suit. Look, you’re just going to have to trust that the future will be better than the present. It’s a long road and there might be troughs before there are peaks. Troughs... pigs... see what I did there? Anyway, “descent into sex and inanity” is as good a five-word summation of human history as we can get. These are old habits.”
“But you’re facilitating the descent! You’re pushing people towards a precipice and pretending to be surprised when they fall.”
“Right now it’s about making sure people are taking The Seed and using it in ways we can monetise — the details aren’t important. If something is worth doing well, it’s worth doing poorly at first, right? How do you think those genius Scotsmen who gave us TVs and phones would have felt if they’d lived to see Jersey Shore and hear those bogus “you’ve won a cruise” calls we used to have to put up with? Their brilliant inventions, wasted! Turned to pointless ends. Tools of inanity. You feel like that, don’t you?”
Kurt nodded tiredly.
“Well don’t. The Bairds and Bells and Clerk-Maxwells of this world have led us to this moment. The ultimate potential of their technologies has finally been realised thanks to our Seed and one day this creation will enjoy the same fate. Developers will always meet the public’s demands and sooner or later the public will demand more than Happy Pigs and cam shows. These are mere blips on the radar of progress. Our third world call centres... our reality TV. Necessary reference points so that in five years we can sit back, smile and see how far we’ve come.”
Kurt hated how easily Amos could not merely dismiss his concerns but convince him that they were trivial.
“Was that everything?”
“No,” said Kurt. “The ads are already too much. I’ve had targeted placements that could only have been assigned by someone who’s been watching my vista. I saw a poster for a show about big cats because I’d been watching one in my bed last night, and then I heard a voice outside Tasmart Express telling me noodles were on offer because I’d just been eating some. It’s beyond creepy. People won’t like being spied on. I sure as hell don’t.”
“It’s nothing like that, Kurt. The Lenses recognise food types and The Seed assumes you’ll want more of the things you like. It’s the same with the TV shows: the system knows what you’ve been watching and recommends similar things. No one is watching you.”
“So it’s all automatic?”
“Correct. With regular ads we just throw stuff at the wall and see what sticks. If a consumer purchases a product that’s just been advertised we assume the connection and take a commission, but since you didn’t buy the noodles we don’t get anything from Tasmart. They don’t even know about the placement. Anyway, two ads in a thirty minute journey hardly constitutes a flood.”
“Still, I saw what you’ve done with the tracking — telling people that they can track everyone else if they agree to enable location services. I also
know that you’ve been convincing schools to mandate seeding of their students. Tell me that location tracking will be disabled for everyone under the age of 18.”
“I would, Kurt, but I don’t want to lie to you.”
“So what happens when a child gets abducted by some sex offender who waits until the tracking grid shows that they’re isolated?”
“Wow.” Amos stood up. “You’ve got a sick mind.”
Kurt rose and followed him to the window. “So that’s it? Ignore the issue?”
“If the kid was wearing Lenses we’d see the culprit. If the kid had enabled Seed-based tracking we’d know where they were being held. And if I had my way and tracking was compulsory, the police would know where all convicts were at all times. Your little scenario couldn’t happen.”
“Only if the convicts were seeded in the first place,” said Kurt. “People with something to hide aren’t going to let you put a chip in their hand.”
“That’s exactly the point. In a few months everyone will be seeded apart from those with a nefarious reason not to be. Hence our forthcoming push for compulsory seeding of all criminals.”
“Criminals and schoolchildren, no?”
Amos grinned. “It would stop them going missing.” Kurt didn’t see the funny side but Amos continued. “Anyway, at the contest you stood in front of the world and told me that The Seed would be in every American’s left hand within a year. Were you lying? Is your position at my company based on a lie?”
“No. But I expected us to be giving people reasons to get seeded, not forcing it on them.”
“You can’t reason with children or criminals! People who are seeded and wearing UltraLenses can’t go missing and they can’t commit crimes without being caught. Before long the law-abiding masses will be marching in the streets to demand compulsory seeding for all.”
“You’re insane if you believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m insane,” said Amos. He made the stylistic decision to finish his thought with a silent Glance, looking into Kurt’s eyes and scribbling in his hand. “… I’m right.” Amos walked away towards his elevator.
“Hold on. I’m not finished with you.”
Amos stopped in his tracks and looked back without turning his body. “Who are you speaking to, Kurt? It can’t be me in that tone.”
“Shut up and listen. If my brother’s kids have to get seeded, it’s going to be free. And while we’re on the subject of money…”
“I should have known.” Amos finished turning around and walked unusually close to Kurt. “Money does this to people. I didn’t think it would do it to you, but what do I know?”
Kurt didn’t reply.
“Well, at least now I know what you’ve been upset about,” Amos continued. “All these fantastical frustrations about people playing games, children getting a safer and better education, too many ads, poor little murderers and rapists being seeded against their will… they’re nothing but distractions from the truth behind your visit: cool kid Kurt is all about the cash.”
“No, it’s the whole point of everything. I won a job for life. Jobs come with responsibilities and salaries. You had me hiding in my house for two weeks and I’m not being paid. How is that a job?”
“You’re job was having the idea, and a damn good one it was. If it wasn’t for you there would be no Seed.”
“Exactly. So how can it be fair that I’ve not been paid a penny?”
“You have infinite credit on your Seed.”
“Which I can’t even spend in one store yet! You’ve sold eight million of my Seeds at $500 a pop and I’m struggling to get by.”
“How much do you want, then?”
“I don’t want much in relative terms. Let’s say 1% of whatever The Seed grosses.”
“Not much? 1% is $30 million for today alone, not even counting what people have spent in the SycaStore. What the hell do you need that kind of money for?” Amos wasn’t shouting; he seemed more upset than angry. “I didn’t read you as the greedy type, Kurt. Terrance warned me that you were. I’d hate to think he was right.”
Kurt’s eyes widened. “Minion said that?”
“He did. I thought you were an idealistic man who would be happy getting by without having to think about money — hence giving you infinite credit. It’s not strictly wealth, but it takes money out of your life. Yet here you are asking me for $30 million after two days!”
“But I do still have to worry about money. Why does no one get that? Nowhere accepts payment via The Seed.”
“Everywhere soon will, I promise you that. By the end of the year most places will accept no other payment method. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that cash is on the way out. With that in mind it would be more instructive for us to simply provide the things you need. So, Kurt, tell me what you need.”
“I could do with a new house. If you saw where I’m living you would understand.”
Amos narrowed his lips like a ventriloquist. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want anyone thinking that as important a man as Kurt Jacobs was slumming it. How about a nice shiny car? Or do you prefer the chauffeur service I already provide?”
Kurt struggled to interpret Amos’s tone. “I’d prefer a car. I feel bad having someone spend their time driving me around.”
“Anything else?” asked Amos. He was either jotting down Kurt’s requests in his hand or doing an excellent job of pretending to.
“Maybe some clothes. Normal clothes, I mean, not just suits.”
“Good. Pick everything out of a catalogue or whatever and someone will sort it. You’re coming to see me in the morning anyway, so choose a vacant house tonight and we can move you in tomorrow. Now, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”
“That was all,” said Kurt, satisfied by this outcome.
“And are you taking a bus home or would you rather go in the car? The driver is being paid whether he’s moving or not.”
“I’ll go with him, then,” Kurt decided, “for old time’s sake.” He smiled and walked away.
Amos quickly performed the three-tap shortcut for sending a text and selected Terrance Minion as its recipient. He typed a message as Kurt entered the elevator.
“You were right about Jacobs.”
7
An expansive four-bedroom property in the leafy borough of Longhampton immediately jumped out at Kurt from the real estate listings and a Lamborghini Gallardo did similar from the auto catalogue. He messaged Amos with his selections straight away but didn’t receive a reply until the morning, along with confirmation that a driver would shortly be arriving to bring him to HQ.
Amos greeted Kurt in the lobby, indicating that his visit would be a short one, and wasted no time in explaining the present state of affairs. “Good morning, Kurt. The house and car have been registered to your Seed. You know where the house is and the car will be here tonight.”
“Thanks,” said Kurt, and he meant it.
“Not at all. It’s a beautiful house — very classy. And a Gallardo! I was not expecting that. Anyway, I wanted you here today to talk about Friday. I have a very important meeting with some very important people. Terrance is coming but I’d like you to be there, too. You might need to sign something about non-disclosure. The government are paranoid like that.”
“The government? Who exactly are you meeting?”
“The president,” said Amos. “And his entourage, I expect.”
“Why are you meeting the president? And why would you need me to be there?”
“He and I have some mutual interests. As for you… there a few reasons I want you beside me at the table. I won’t lie: it’s mainly that your presence brings levity. But you’re also quite good at phrasing things. To hell with the catfish and all that. ”
“Why the actual president, though? Shouldn’t he be busy stopping wars or whatever it is that we pay him to do?”
Amos smiled at how poorly Kurt seemed to understand the nature of politics. “At firs
t they told me that — that he was busy. They wanted to send some monkey from the CIA, but I said that if they sent a department head then so would I and that if they wanted Sycamore’s organ grinder then I wanted theirs.”
“What do you want out of the meeting?”
“Public funding for our new CrimePrev division, along with the power to issue arrest warrants. CrimePrev will be non-commercial and fully devoted to tracking and preventing criminal activity. We’ll need a lot of new staff, hence the funding. This way we can let the police do their job on the ground without compromising consumer privacy.”
Kurt didn’t know where to start. “Public funding for a corporation making billions of dollars in a single day? I bet you won’t be sharing your profits. This is the same kind of reverse socialism we saw with the banks: men like you taking risks with everyone else’s money and keeping the rewards. And calling it CrimePrev? What world are you in where people will accept that? It’s just PreCrime with a v.”
“What would you suggest then, SycaPol?”
“It’s not so much the name. I just meant that even thinking of the name CrimePrev shows how little you know what you’re doing. People hate the idea of PreCrime because it inevitably leads to punishing thoughtcrimes.”
Amos couldn’t think of a lie, so he said nothing. Seconds passed before something came to his mind. “It’s not about thoughtcrime. We can only see what people are actually doing and saying, not what they’re thinking. There’s no room for error.”
“But there’s room for abuse. And, knowing you, you’ll probably put Minion in charge!”
“The board will consider all well-qualified candidates.” Much could be read into Amos’s non-denial.
“Do you know what your good friend Terrance used to do before he started working here?”
“Why do you think I recruited him?” said Amos, grinning horribly. “Look, we have the technology to eliminate crime and it would be a sin to ignore that. This is one of those times when ability implies duty. We can, so we must.”
Sycamore Page 10
