The Age of the Conglomerates: A Novel of the Future

by Thomas Nevins

  He closed his eyes and pictured the Dyscard crisis beneath him. He envisioned the casualties caused by the loss of power and the live third rail. He checked the word “Dyscard” off his list. “Done,” he said.

  The chairman focused on the dust particles riding the heat currents around the room. He closed his eyes, which stung from the sweat, and he smiled at the discomfort, and the discomfort about to befall the Dyscards. The chairman knew he could not eliminate them, they were an emerging social class. But he could damage the foundation. The chairman leaned his head back and let the sweat roll down his face.

  CHRISTINE WAS LOOKING for Gabriel. She was using her old laptop and she was placing a great deal of trust in her hope that the old phone company landlines had been ignored by the Conglomerates.

  She connected to the med center server under her old assistant’s user name. She figured it might set off a red flag if she used her own name, or that of Cruz. When the server called for the password, Christine remembered her assistant’s wedding day and tried that. And as simple as that, she was into the med center system, and this gave her confidence to try something riskier. The med center was part of the municipal bureaucracy, and as such Christine was able to enter into the NYPD information system. She entered Cruz’s name. She hoped that an inquiry originating from NYPD regarding an open investigation would not seem out of the ordinary.

  Gabriel’s case file appeared. She typed in “last known location” and clicked the go button. Her apartment address came up. “Great,” she said, and typed “previous.” Another address. Christine clicked to begin an advanced search. The screen ran a series of numbers until they reached their numeric destination; then the screen migrated to a schematic rendering of a map that peeled away to reveal a subterranean level. The cursor blinked with a red light, indicating the geographic position of the sighting. Christine studied it, and then stood up.

  “Well, now I know where he was,” she said.

  What she needed to do was get to that place, somehow, and hope that Gabriel was still there. She still had to get the vitamins as well as the sedatives. She grabbed the gym bag, found her portable lab kit in her closet, added that to the bag, and headed out.

  THE CHAIRMAN OF the Conglomerate party was dreaming, and in his dream he sat in a high-backed chair of blood-red velvet, with gold leaf on the arms and feet. He was wearing a wine-colored robe made of crushed velvet emblazoned with gold-embroidered collar and cuffs. The garment was soaked with perspiration, which made the velvet heavier and harder to move. He was overlooking the pandemonium he had unleashed.

  Beneath him he saw people grabbing at one another, trying to save themselves as the other would-be survivors kicked and screamed. There were raw patches of flesh where hair used to be. Everyone was running, trying to get free.

  In the dream a clay urn of water was at the chairman’s side. He offered none to the victims, the hordes. Instead he dipped his hands into the water and let the water drip onto his face. Occasionally he would lean his head back and laugh, and his mouth would fill and he would spit the water at their feet.

  IT WASN’T MUCH cooler out on the street than it was in her apartment, but Christine was glad to be outside. She was too excited at finding Gabriel’s location to stay home. She made herself walk until she was sure she wasn’t being followed. She had in mind Gabriel’s location, and had determined it was a spot on the number seven subway line.

  Christine bought a MetroCard and entered the subway system. She walked down the stairs and headed toward the number seven train. She felt as if she were playing a children’s game and was getting warmer. There were doorways set in the wall in a few locations within the passageway, and she wondered if those could be the spot. Since there was plenty of passenger traffic going from one point to another, and there were surveillance cameras everywhere, Christine thought it was unlikely that she could gain entry into one of them. She took mental note of what she saw and kept on toward the seven train.

  A seven train screeched into the Grand Central Station stop, and Christine got on board. She studied the tunnel as they passed through it but hadn’t seen anything that might be the spot. She got off at the next stop, at Vernon Boulevard in Queens. She walked up the stairs, crossed over to the Manhattan-bound platform, and got on the seven going back to the city. She stood near the door on the return trip, looking out the window, staring at her internal debate. An announcement about congestion ahead came over the speaker system, and the train slowed. Christine was trying to figure out how she could get into those rooms along the passage to the seven without being seen. She saw the recess in the wall along the catwalk inside the tunnel, and she saw a metal door set within the recess. She knew that was the door and the spot on the map.

  Her heart began to pound. At Grand Central she made her exit slowly. She scanned for cameras, waited while the stragglers left the platform.

  She backed her way toward the end of the platform, reached the end of it. She sprinted past the sign that read DO NOT ENTER OR CROSS THE TRACKS, went down the ladder onto the track bed, across the tracks, and up the metal stairs that led to the catwalk. She was up and out of the sight line of the platform in no time. She gagged at the smell of urine. Why would Gabriel be here?

  The snake eyes of an oncoming train appeared in the tunnel ahead. She would have to make it to the recess before the motorman spotted her. She pressed up against the shadows and held her breath until the train passed her by.

  It was dark in the doorway, but there was a lightbulb in the fixture. She reached up and gave the bulb a twist, and then jumped when the light came on. As she turned the doorknob to pull the door open, the door swung in, pulling her with it. She thought for sure she would see Gabriel standing there, but instead she saw two kids, a boy and a girl. They looked as surprised as Christine was. It wasn’t as if the girl looked familiar to Christine; it was more like she felt familiar.

  “Ximena?” Christine said.

  “Ximena?” John said. His eyes went from one woman to the other. “Who’s Ximena?”

  “Christine?” X said.

  “You two aren’t sisters, are you?” John asked.

  IT HAD BEEN years since they had seen each other. Things between the sisters had always been difficult. Christine had been twelve years old when her mother had brought home “the new sister,” Ximena, and Christine had been confused because her mother hadn’t been pregnant and then her mother had come home with a baby girl. From then on, all Christine seemed to hear about was Ximena. One was compared to the other and both always seemed to come up short. One was trained to be superior, and the other was designed to be. But their parents expected more. Christine had left home as soon as she could. She never looked back, but then again, she realized, she had never had real relationships, or trusted other people either. Instead, she put herself through medical school and went out on her own.

  When she had thought of her sister in the years since, it had been with regret, and then she’d moved on.

  And here Ximena was, in front of her and, despite the difficult circumstances, looking like a strong and attractive young woman. She clearly was shocked to see Christine too. She was the sister that Xemina was supposed to be better than, and Christine was the sister that X had never lived up to: a doctor, a powerful member of the Conglomerate party. They still looked like sisters, with a genetic similarity that a laser couldn’t cut.

  Time

  The chairman opened his eyes with his mind still in the pandemonium and his head on the tabletop. He hadn’t known he was sleeping until he’d felt the wood pressed against his face; he wasn’t where he thought he would be. He picked up his head and winced as a sharp pain pierced a point above his right eye. He touched his forehead and his fingers came away red. There was blood on the tabletop. Had he passed out?

  But there was that dream, the chairman thought as he rubbed his face.

  “SALTER,” THE CHAIRMAN said from the back of his town car. They were headed across the Brooklyn Bridge. He
had showered and dressed the cut above his eye, but it still hurt. He was going to have to leave her a message. Again.

  The chairman said into his phone, “Where are you? You should be available to me.” He saw his driver in the rearview mirror look away from him.

  “I’m here.” Christine’s voice was on the speaker phone. Even though the chairman had called her, he was startled.

  CHRISTINE WAS SITTING at the kitchen table, but in her mind she was back with her sister. After the shock of seeing each other in the subway, X, as she was now called, told Christine about her time as a Dyscard. She told her about what happened after Christine left home, the changes in their lives. She told her about their grandparents, that their mom had a new life, was a new wife with a baby on the way, which left no room for X at home, and with the new husband, who was a big-time Conglomerate. X hesitated, remembering her sister’s job.

  Christine decided she only had time enough to be honest and told X why she was there—she wanted to find Gabriel Cruz.

  But while X was curious about her sister, she was reluctant to tell her what she knew, or didn’t know. After all, when she came down to it, even though they were sisters, Christine couldn’t be further removed from the culture to which X belonged. X was a Dyscard and Christine a Conglomerate. There was no getting around that. It didn’t matter anyway; she didn’t know where Cruz was now. Christine seemed hurt by her sister’s silence and X felt bad but her situation told her to hold back.

  Even though it was years since they had seen each other, and they had never really been close, Christine wanted to ask her sister if she was all right. She wanted to get her alone, put her arm around her, and make sure she was safe. She wanted to tell her the past was behind them, that they were on the same side. But Christine saw her sister’s dilemma and decided not to press. She would have to earn her trust.

  “WHERE HAVE YOU been?” the chairman demanded. “We’re coming to pick you up.” Christine put her head down on the table in front of her. She could not turn off her thoughts.

  “I’m on my way down,” she said.

  In the town car, the air-conditioning was on and it was a relief.

  “Is the compound ready?” the chairman asked.

  Compound? she thought. Oh, right. “Yes,” she said.

  “We’ll proceed tomorrow,” he said.

  “Tomorrow,” she agreed.

  Tomorrow

  Dr. Walters worked her way around the rows of cots that lined the floor of the clinic on Ward’s Island. There were patients asking her questions, and there were patients in pain. Walters was so busy she didn’t notice Gabriel Cruz enter the emergency room.

  They’d convened with the Dyscard leaders and reviewed what Gabriel had learned. A looked toward Dr. Walters, and said, “When can you be ready to go?”

  Walters looked toward Gabriel.

  “Tomorrow,” Gabriel said.

  “We’ll be ready,” Walters said.

  Some of Walters’s people had already broken into groups, organized themselves, and prepared to be directed. As Walters reached her workers, she said, “We must be sure the equipment we’re taking is sterile, or as close as the underground will allow.” To Gabriel, Dr. Walters said, “Please confirm with transportation that our cargo will be ready to go tomorrow. I’ll be going with them and I will need accommodations too.”

  To Do

  When she entered the New York Medical Center, Christine said her name out loud as she walked past the security checkpoint into the elevator and rode up into the Pool.

  There were no patients waiting to see Christine these days, no meetings. She closed her office door behind her.

  She knew the place was bugged, tapped, videotaped, but there was also a certain privacy in the isolation. She logged on to her computer and opened to her most recent departmental results. The Pool had more than made budget and as usual was carrying the med center. Christine thought that if they were going to be watching her, they would have to look at what was at stake if she were gone.

  She still had the piece of paper with her “to do” list. She had located her sister, a bonus, but she needed to find Gabriel and warn him. She looked down at the list and realized she had a plan. She wasn’t going to get it accomplished in her office. When she thought about it, what did she have to lose? She removed her I.D. badge, placed it in the desk, and left the Pool.

  GABRIEL STOOD ON the south side of Forty-second Street and looked over at Grand Central Terminal. The fog had cleared and the sun shone off the statue of Mercury, who looked out over Gabriel as he crossed the street and went inside. Gabriel could hear the hum of thousands of in-a-hurry commuters. He would be hard to pick out in a crowd, should anyone be looking for him. Gabriel was glad he had detailed instructions.

  He walked across the grand concourse beneath the sky-blue dome, past the information booth with the four-faced brass clock, and up the marble staircase. He wanted a vantage point that would let him see the big picture. He turned around, and then he saw her. She was cutting through the crowd toward the number seven train. There had to be fifty yards and several hundred people between him and Christine, who was moving like she had a force field clearing the crowd. He followed her to the number seven train. As she reached the turnstiles, he put a hand on her arm.

  She spun around and he put his arms around her; he couldn’t help it. “Christine,” he said. Then he started walking toward the train. “I’ve been trying to find you,” she said, and felt a rush of relief that Gabriel was okay. She was excited to have his arm around her and she loved the way this felt—except…“I don’t know where to start,” she said. “Are you all right? Where have you been? What happened? What were you really doing at the med center?” It all came out in a stream.

  He wanted to tell her that all he did was miss her; he wanted to ask her if she’d found his note, if she was okay. He wanted to tell her he was sorry. But instead Gabriel stopped a second, turned, and looked at her. “I didn’t use you,” he said. “I used my job.” Christine slid her arm through his and they started to walk as he continued to explain. “It’s funny. My business at the center and my business now…” He paused a moment. “I am trying to save as many babies as I can, then and now. Let me take that in order,” he finally said. “I am okay. I have been working for a Dyscard doctor who deals with everything from addiction to pediatrics. At the center I did the best job I could for you and for the families we worked on, by leaving their kids alone, leaving them to what nature planned.

  “And, as for you,” he said, and smiled, “I wasn’t trying to make you look bad, or hurt you. I was falling in love with you. I hadn’t intended on that. As for what I am doing now, you’re not going to believe this, but I have a bunch of babies to save.” Then Gabriel told her about the meeting he had planned.

  Christine thought about the vitamins, the procedure ahead, the chairman, her sister. She looked at Gabriel. She had one third of her “to do” list right here.

  CHRISTINE COULD SEE why they called this terminal grand. Even the back staircases and freight elevators were well designed. The banisters were brass and the stairs were black wrought iron with marble steps. The doorways were discreet, fireproof, heavy. Then it was too dark to discern design. They dropped down onto a work track deep beneath Grand Central.

  “It can’t be much farther,” Gabriel said. Then he knocked on the door and it opened. The two sisters found themselves facing each other again.

  “Ximena,” Christine said.

  “Christine,” X said, as if it were old times.

  Gabriel said to Christine, “You can explain this to me later, please.” He turned to the group and said, “But now we don’t have much time. We need to get the babies out of Ward’s Island and up to Van Cortlandt Park, where Dr. Walters has a place she feels will be safe.”

  “Excuse me,” Christine said, “but I have some information that may change all of that.” And then she told them about the plans of the chairman, and her hunch that he wanted his op
eration now because he was planning an attack on the Dyscards.

  Paradise

  It was like a negative eclipse; the sun filled the black mouth of the tunnel of trees as George and the group he had joined reached the ridge. The direct sun blinded them, but when George’s vision adjusted, he saw that one side of the landscape was barren and rust-colored, and the other side was green, a display of thick vegetation. There were rows of trees surrounding wide, green clearings. He had never seen a strip mine before but he knew this brown side must be one. There were terraces connected by roadways wide enough for a truck, and it was all dug several stories down into the ground.

  On the green side—Well, George was familiar with golf courses, but he had never seen one quite like this. A mine on one side and a golf course on the other and they were joined by a roadway, a zipper that connected one to the other.

  George looked at the golf course, putting greens, the sand traps and water hazards. There were figures moving across the greens, and for some reason the water traps were pretty busy too.

  When George looked back at the strip mine, he saw lots of activity around it. There were no trucks rolling in or out of the abandoned mine, no brown industrial haze, no cargo cars or anything else associated with mining. There were people filing in and out along the truck routes. There was a group of people on the road ahead, approaching them.