The Perfect Human: An Abelard Chronicles Book

by Manuel Werner

The time had come to have a chat with Abelard, the same one he took the trouble to have with each and every senior executive at VBI that he judged could one day challenge his leadership. Milly was of course delighted with Abelard’s stellar performance but that was not the reason he had summoned him to his office the very next day after his crushing takeover victory. It was rather the public nature of that triumph which signaled to Milly that the time for “that” talk had now arrived. Abelard was attracting far too much attention and would need to more fully appreciate the ways of Milly’s world. When he arrived at the VBI building Milly was waiting in the lobby to personally greet and escort him up to his office. Abelard was astounded by the gesture. His memories were full of medieval trivia. One such piece had to do with the symbolism surrounding such a gesture. In those times only superiors, such as an immediate suzerain or higher were received at the main entrance to a castle by the baron himself and then escorted by him to the inner sanctum. All others were ushered in by lower ranking servitors depending on the importance of the visitors. Flattered as he felt, Abelard remained wary until they entered Milly’s private office, his keep. That single act, more than anything else that Milly did afterwards to cultivate his ancient instincts, pushed him towards the course he was too follow over the next several months. It triggered a whole set of obligations to Milly. It defined his space in the social structure, a space with which he was intimately familiar. It was as though Milly knew Abelard’s medieval mind.

  “Never seen such large running-dogs,” Abelard admired, looking fondly at the two creatures sprawled before the roaring fire.

  “A little behind the times, Abe,” Milly observed, “running-dogs, popular in the medieval era, have long been extinct. These here prize fox hounds are the current version of those fine beasts.” Another item added to Abelard’s list of stuff which his knowledge base has not yet updated.

  Except for the two black, white and tan creatures, sprawled before the roaring fire, suddenly alert and observing him with their almond eyes, they were alone in his vast office. He poured coffee and asked how it had felt to win such a complete victory. Milly didn’t actually expect an answer, and after a moment he signaled for Abelard to follow him. They walked to his desk where he pulled a control panel from under the top and touched a key. Sections on the far wall opposite his desk slid silently and swiftly apart to reveal a large screen on which was displayed a map of the world. Satisfied that all was happening as it should, he touched another key and many small green dots began to sparkle. “Those are the places around the world where I own major enterprises”, he said with not a little pride, and not a nanomoment’s thought as to how he and VBI suddenly became as one and the same entity. Then he once again touched the keys and this time a multitude of twinkling orange points joined their green cousins. “Those are areas of the world where I own large enough portions of major enterprises to control them,” he said, this time with a wistful sigh, as though he would one day ultimately fully own these as well. Another jab at the keys and numerous red lights joined the blinking fray on the screen. “Those indicate where I want to be but without risking too much capital, relatively unstable areas, just keeping my finger in the important enterprises is sufficient”.

  He then pressed other keys and the map disappeared to be replaced by an organization chart. His name was on top with ten boxes directly under him and then smaller and more numerous boxes for several layers under those. The ten squares each had a name except for the one under the PHARMco heading, in which was written the word vacant. Standing proud and erect, this man who controlled such vast resources, puffing up his already large barrel chest, slipped suddenly into childish metaphors.

  “These people, Abe,” he began, “under my watchful eye, control all the enterprises shown by all those coloured points you saw on the screen. And through those enterprises and those people on the chart below me I often have a substantial say in how the host countries are run. If you imagine the heads of those countries as the kings then people like me who command such vast organizations are like dukes, barons, counts. Some of us are more powerful than others and have larger fiefs, more people. The kings try to control us but are not always successful. And when they do catch us doing something undesirable then they usually don't kill us, just make us pay sort of a ransom, which we euphemistically refer to as a penalty or fine. We nobles also have a lot of private wars and we end up killing each other's peasants, only here we don't usually actually kill, except sometimes, but only in certain countries. Instead, we fire people. And being fired today, what with the loss of income, corporate benefits, prestige and power, it is almost like a death sentence.

  “And what do you imagine we would value most in our peers, the people of our class? It is, above all, personal loyalty. No, not loyalty to the corporation nor to the host country, but loyalty to your immediate superior or, if you like, lord. Almost anything is forgivable in our world except a breach of personal loyalty. Of course, with all our corporate wars, hostile takeovers, forced mergers, suzerains can change frequently so that personal loyalties must also adapt to new situations. Surprised? Don't be. In our world of confusing complexity, the boss can't possibly understand what all his people are doing and depends on the primitive, but reliable device of personal loyalty to safeguard against being deliberately compromised by his subordinates”. Then he fell silent and looked at Abelard for a long moment with a small, superior smile imprinted on his thin lips.

  “How can I possibly, you may wonder, as the lord of this vast empire, tolerate loyalties to anything but VBI? Since, after all, I am VBI. Well, Abe, the ten people you saw on that chart just below me are all personally loyal to me. Therefore, they are personally loyal to VBI. So you see, Abe, the personal loyalties of even the lowliest worker, at the farthest reaches of the empire, ultimately feed up through the hierarchy and finish as personal loyalty to me.” Another pause to let all this brilliant bullshit sink in.

  “Now, Abe”, he resumed, “I can tell that all this doesn't impress you as so very strange. And why should it? Robbie has told me you have an intimate knowledge of the medieval world and, I suppose, the medieval mind. I've read a bit about that world and I was struck by the similarities much more than by the differences. People like me controlled the lives of thousands of peasants and townsfolk. Today people like me and, I daresay, like you control the destiny of millions. Some of us do it to fulfil pathological needs to bully and exercise power. I find those motives base and repugnant,” he portentously added, knowing how others less fortunate than him might easily suspect a more infantile purpose behind his ravings. “I do it for business reasons. Take the Captal de Buch, for example, a personal hero of mine,” causing Abelard to almost spill his coffee, “when he had to he never hesitated closing down whole villages or terminating, so to speak, as many people as necessary, including those from his own class, like when he killed Thomas Badefol for treason. He was a truly admirable man”.

  Then Milly once again touched his keyboard and this time Abelard’s name appeared in the PHARMco box. “What do you think about that,” he asked, filled with an immature delight at his display of absolute power? “Or, how about this one,” he practically laughed the words, as he moved Abelard’s name to the president's box, erasing, at the same time, Hornblower. “But, perhaps”, he whispered, conspiratorially, “you would prefer this”, and Abelard’s name replaced his at the top of the organization chart. Then, just as quickly, he made it disappear entirely from the board. “No,” he said, “you, I’m sure were taught to play by the rules of loyalty from earliest childhood. You would be the last to act upon a natural desire to be number one, if it meant committing an act of betrayal. The others, Robertson, Hornblower, even Bull, they are less predictable. They had to learn the rules. They didn't inherit them”.

  Another longish moment to bask in his own greatness, a final keystroke and he shut down the wall display, let the large wooden panels slide back into place and led Abelard, with a great show of respect, back to the
fireplace. “You, Abe”, he began, in a grandiloquent, yet serious voice, “can be part of this world, near the very top. I know you more than I know any of the others. I sense a communality of spirit that is beyond anything I've ever shared with my other executives. I want you to serve me as you would have served the Black Prince had you been alive at that time,” causing Abelard to dribble coffee down his cheek, fortunately not visible in the semi-darkness. “I want you to be my vassal and I want to grant you a fief. What do you say?”

  He hesitated for only the briefest moment, not because he was unsure of what he wanted, no, it was rather because he was thoroughly overcome with a sense of good fortune. He would again be among the elite, the masters of the world. He could have yelled with joy. His life as he was meant to live it, from earliest childhood memories, was about to resume.

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