Atlas Drugged

by Stephen L. Goldstein

  MONDAY, AUGUST 15, 10 A.M.: UNDISCLOSED LOCATION. In the master control room of the Prometheus Project, Zeus calls an emergency session to order.

  “Olympus, Pandora, Mercury, and Adonis, thank you all for responding on such short notice. Things are happening faster than we could ever have hoped or imagined. These are the moments we have been waiting for. I hope all of you are prepared. Believe me when I tell you ‘this is it.’ It’s ‘make it or break it.’ Our time has come. It’s right up there with the war with the Titans. We won our first major battle at New Atlantis on June 4th, when Olympus blindsided the annual celebration of the John Galt Restoration and declared John Galt dead. As all of us saw, the smug bastards never knew what hit them—or where it came from. I laugh every time I see the furious face of that smarmy Professor Manfreed after we rattled his cage. He and his accomplices have been scratching their heads ever since. They still haven’t figured out who we are. It was the first major test of StarWords and it worked to perfection.

  “Before we plot our next step, we’ll start with an update. As all of you know by now, Atlas Fitness Centers and New Atlantis are out of business—and not only out of business, but disgraced, under indictment for a vast conspiracy that should wind up sending all of the perpetrators to prison. And we have our very own Adonis to thank for it. He managed to infiltrate the Manhattan headquarters and, eventually, discover the secrets of the operation. Adonis, you were tightlipped in June when you gave us your update—and we understand why, especially now. But please fill in all the blanks for us.”

  A picture of Adonis broadly smiling appears on screen five, his red, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail, shoulders back accentuating his bare chest. “Thank you, Zeus. But I share any credit for taking down Atlas Fitness with Olympus, of course. Once again, StarWords proved that no one can escape us. I’m sorry if it looked to you and my fellow Prometheans as though I were holding anything back or just being coy. No offense intended. I had every reason to believe that I was on the verge of getting all the information I needed to expose the conspiracy at Atlas Fitness, but I still didn’t have solid proof. As much as I suspected things were rotten, I wasn’t prepared for just how corrupt they really were.

  “When the Manhattan District Attorney announced the grand jury indictments at his press conference last Thursday, he had to be cautious and couldn’t editorialize about its merits. Plus, his legalese blunted the depth and scope of the conspiracy. But I can tell you the unvarnished truth. Perhaps the most shocking thing is that Atlas Fitness Centers were never intended to be a legitimate business. It was a fraud and a con from the start. The company principals—Reyes, Tremmon, and Swift—were Professor Manfreed’s model students at New Atlantis. They mastered—I should say learned how to exploit— the free rein presented by the Free-for-All marketplace. They never expected to get caught. They figured the system was on their side, rigged for them to make obscene profits—forever.

  “One night, after he’d had several glasses of wine too many, Enrique told me the whole story of Atlas Fitness. While they were brainstorming business plans, Zora came up with the idea of ‘drugging’ people on Atlas. But she had said nothing more than ‘We’ve got to find a way to get people hooked on Atlas. It will make money for New Atlantis and money for us. We’ve got to drug them.’ Enrique ran with it: ‘Suppose we come up with a drink that promises to make their dreams come true, to make them Super Atlases—that gives them energy, stimulates their brains, prepares them to succeed in the marketplace,’ he suggested.

  “Not to be outdone, by the next day, Swift, who had been a fitness freak for years, presented the idea of creating a holistic body balancing machine. With those two concepts, they had created a draft business plan for what they called the ultimate fitness center that would make money for them and for New Atlantis and, at the same time, make zealous converts to Free-for-All economics. With positioning like that, they knew they could get all the startup money they needed from the Taggart Venture Fund. And they were right. Instantly, Manfreed was sold on the idea, and, from then on, there was no stopping the trio.

  “Of course, there were two things missing: the miracle drink and the machine they were supposed to have. But that didn’t faze them for a minute. In the Free-for-All marketplace a minor technicality like that doesn’t matter. They knew that they could eventually concoct something. After all, it wasn’t as though their products had to work. The CSA had done away with all consumer protection agencies and laws. So, they had free rein to sell, and make claims for, the effectiveness of anything they could dig up. Proudly, Enrique told me that he mixed the first batch of Atlas Power Drink in his kitchen. I overheard the three of them laughing that his ‘secret’ formula turned out to be ninety percent water and ten percent spinach juice—and saying they would never drink the stuff themselves. When Enrique reminded them that he had made the drink green so people would think of money, they laughed even harder.

  “Reyes and Tremmon were shocked and delighted when Swift brought in a sketch of ‘his’ unique exercise machine, which he said he had developed years ago and for which he made spectacular claims. At the time, he boasted that no one had created anything like it anywhere in the world. Zora is truly a marketing genius. So, on the spot she began creating promotional materials. Swift was thrilled when she blurted out that independent scientific studies revealed that regular use of the machine lowers body rhythms, harmonizes the brain, and produces unique levels of physical strength.

  “Then, without so much as a shred of proof, she found an ingenious way to link Reyes’s drink formula with Swift’s machine. She came up with the corporate name ‘Atlas Fitness Center’ and then developed the idea of offering a proprietary, thirty-day program that combined a regimen of the Atlas Energy Drink and the Titan Machine that would guarantee weight loss, energy gain, and total-body toning. She even made up the claim that there was scientific research to prove that the program actually cures conditions like diabetes and shows promising early signs of helping reverse the effects of spinal cord injury and Parkinson’s.

  “Reyes, Tremmon, and Swift set out to drug the world on Atlas, but, in the end, they drugged themselves on pure greed. In June, I said I was on to a ‘dirty little secret.’ But it turned out to be a big, sleazy, and profitable one. To their credit, running a high-priced whorehouse was never part of their initial business plan. They just fell into it. With all of those hot, pumped-up bodies parading around the Manhattan headquarters, it wasn’t long before clients and trainers were hitting on each other.

  “The idea for ‘Elite Services’ actually came from Count Henry de Horsch, who, with a wink and a nod, framed it as a way to establish discrete, profitable, and ‘meaningful’ relationships between clients and trainers. The trio read between the lines. And once they heard it, their Free-for-All market instincts went into high gear. Atlas Fitness was cash-strapped at the time, because membership revenue had slumped. All they saw were dollar signs. The count offered to fund what he called a ‘state-of-the-art’ expansion of headquarters, providing patrons with 24/7 access to staff.

  “It seems that the count had propositioned one of the male trainers in headquarters. But, after a few awkward trysts outside the facility, he was desperate to find a totally discrete location because of his high profile and connections in Washington and specifically the White House. With the count’s financial help and business savvy, the trio developed a lucrative commission schedule for trainers and facilities that catered to fetishes you can’t even imagine—at least I couldn’t. At their recent national sales meeting, they were already showing franchisees how to implement their own ‘Elite Services.’ The count even offered to write an expanded headquarters into his proposal for the private development of Central Park. Smack in the middle of the family-friendly mall and amusement park he pitched to the city, patrons would be able to fulfill any fantasy 24/7—for a hefty price.

  “Eventually, they made me the head of what they called the VIP Division. I scheduled all appointment
s, maintained all client contact information, processed payments, and even paid commissions. Thanks to Olympus, the secrets in the VIP Division were completely recorded and exposed. No one at headquarters suspected a thing. And, when the time came, the grand jury got more than they ever imagined. The conspiracy surrounding Atlas Energy Drink and the Titan Machine outraged the grand jury. But when they saw undeniable proof that headquarters had turned into a whorehouse, including the juicy tapes, you could see the fire in their eyes. The proceedings had to be adjourned for an hour.”

  “Adonis,” Zeus says emphatically, “we all thank you for your update and for the role you’ve played in bringing down Atlas Fitness and New Atlantis. You managed to disarm the enemy, ingratiate yourself, and never lose sight of the goal. But, as I know you all realize, we have to move on. We’re jumping from the frying pan directly into the fire.

  “Now, everyone, take a look at screen six. The hundreds of thousands of people you now see surrounding the White House are your people. They have been pouring into the capital since August 8th, after all of you went to work urging them to protest. We have effectively shut down Washington, D.C. and paralyzed President Cooper’s administration for almost a solid week. Cooper and his Corporate Council thought that, behind closed doors, they could carve up the state of Florida and profit from the massive devastation after the worst hurricane in this country’s history. The Florida governor was in on the whole plot. He and his family had even set up companies to get a piece of the action. They didn’t give a damn about all the people suffering on the ground. They were blinded by dollar signs. All they cared about was the bottom line. Olympus, tell us what you did.”

  “Thanks, Zeus. The real hero of our strategy is StarWords. When we met in June, I told all of you that, when we put Manfreed into a slow burn at New Atlantis, interrupting him and declaring John Galt dead, it was just the beginning. That day, we proved the power of our audio transmission, our ‘invisible voice,’ as an offensive weapon. On August 8th, StarWords moved to a whole new level. It was the first test of our video interception system. We managed to foil all defensive systems at the White House and penetrate right into the Cabinet Room. Secretly, we recorded the audio and video of Cooper’s top secret meeting with his Corporate Council. Frankly, as we were doing it, I almost became physically ill. Those bastards knew people were desperate— injured, even dying, in Florida. But they couldn’t have cared less.

  “We got it all on tape. They were plotting the ultimate Free-for-All from Free-for-All economics—as long as you were one of them. They named their plan Florida, Inc. They already controlled public property and assets. But, by declaring the state a disaster after the recent hurricane, they were going to confiscate all private property. I know it sounds bizarre, but that’s what they were planning. For example, they were going to confiscate all land whose clear title could not be established and, where ownership could be determined, pay ten cents on the dollar, at best. Then, all assets were going to be put into Florida, Inc., an umbrella private corporation, which would sell off land, long term contracts for providing services, and literally everything in the peninsula to private businesses—for little or nothing. Mortimer Gayle was promised prime sites for his department stores. Foreign investors were proposing to take over water and power companies. They were debating whether to establish economic zones, but couldn’t decide whether they should run east-west or north-south and where the lines should be drawn.

  “While people in Florida were desperate, they were planning to convert the state into the equivalent of a huge department store— with themselves and their cronies as the owners. People would have to pay for everything they needed or do without. AllFlorida Transport was proposing to buy the rights to all roads, create travel zones, and charge tolls to drive within them. You could buy an annual pass for one or more zones or for the whole state. If you didn’t want to, or couldn’t afford it, you’d simply have to walk or ride with someone else. It’s unimaginable to me, even as I’m recounting it. In short, they were planning to seize what they called ‘a once-in-a-generation-opportunity’ to implement pure Free-for-All economics and create a sweeping corporate model that could be replicated nationwide.

  “Because of StarWords, as soon as the meeting was adjourned, I was able to send a link to the transmission to Pandora. And she sent it to all Coopervilles over our secure, wireless network, and they spread the word to their local networks. In June, she reported that we could reach upwards of ten million people. Just two months later, she estimates that we now connect almost seventy-five million, and that doesn’t count the millions to which those seventy-five million connect. The callous, conniving conversations between Cooper and the Corporate Council enraged everyone who heard and saw them. The video went viral worldwide. Of course, the media immediately picked up the story. Almost immediately, Mercury organized flash mobs around the country protesting Florida, Inc.

  “Mercury called for a massive march on Washington. Tens of thousands—by now hundreds of thousands—of protestors have overwhelmed the capital. Within a day, the White House was surrounded and Cooper had to call in the National Guard to protect the perimeter. But they could only access the grounds by helicopter because all streets leading to the mansion were blocked. It turned into a veritable tent city, people camped out as far as the eye could see. Tuesday morning, August 9th, in the middle of the night, the president and his staff fled by helicopter to Camp David, while enflamed mobs were screaming ‘Murderers,’ ‘Coward Cooper Kills,’ ‘Damn Ham,’ ‘Fire Cooper.’

  “Of course, we were able to record his skulking away and the crowd’s withering reaction. By daybreak, the picture of a cowering Cooper surrounded by security being led to the helicopter was on the front page of every newspaper. All TV programming was preempted and the video was played and replayed nonstop. The plot to profit from the Florida disaster was burning up social media platforms worldwide. One tweet summed up the situation so well it was quoted again and again: “@averageAmerican Is the CSA a country or a cash register?”

  “Thank you, Olympus, and Pandora and Mercury, of course,” Zeus says. “If you look closely at screen six in the upper lefthand corner, you’ll see what I think is the most poignant picture of all. I’ve been watching it day after day. There’s a large, yellow flag with a picture of a young boy on it and the words ‘Cooper Killed Adam.’ It refers, of course, to the brutal attack on the National Mall Cooperville when the innocent, helpless, young boy, Adam, was trampled to death and the encampment was bulldozed and turned into bonfires. The incident became a spark that ignited mass outrage—and the most compelling antiCooper event the world had ever seen. Most of the people who were sent on the forced march from the encampment into RFK Stadium have joined the protest camp around the White House.

  “With the end of Atlas Fitness and New Atlantis, there’s hope for our future. But as long as Cooper remains in office and the CSA follows the principles of Free-for-All economics, we still have much work to do. Cary Hinton must win the presidency.”

  MONDAY, AUGUST 15, 1 P.M.: CAMP DAVID, MARYLAND. It has been almost a week since President Cooper and his entourage arrived within the safe confines of the presidential retreat in the Catoctin Mountain Park. When Navy One, his helicopter, hovered over the grounds of the White House to whisk him away to safety, the president looked out in disbelief over what had become an occupied capital. He could hear shouts of “Cooper kills” from the crowds closest to the mansion, who suddenly had been awakened by the noise of the copter’s rotors. In the middle of the night, the city was pitch black. But, here and there, the ghostly silhouettes of protestors wrapped in a shroud of night-mist could be seen in patches of light from small fires burning everywhere.

  Exhausted and shocked, Cooper sat by himself—his fists drawn together, knees up, almost in a fetal position—and spoke to no one. No one spoke to him. As he looked out over the city—his city, he thought—all he could keep asking himself over and over was How did this happen? How could this ha
ppen? What has gone so terribly wrong? But once the copter reached altitude and was en route to Camp David, suddenly his attitude turned defiant. Clenching his fists as though preparing for a fight, he thought, This must have been how the Romans felt when the barbarians overran them. Who do they think they are? I’m the president of the CSA. I’m not going to take this lying down from a bunch of nobodies. By the time I’m through with those bastards, they’ll wish they had never started up with me.

  In the days since Navy One touched down at Camp David, Cooper had used its peaceful setting to plot an all-out attack on his own people—an unprecedented action in the annals of presidential history. Jimmy Carter brokered the Camp David Accords there between Egyptian President Anwar al Sadat and Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin. Past American presidents had used the relaxed, country retreat as a quiet getaway. John F. Kennedy and his family enjoyed horseback riding there. Lyndon Johnson, Gerald Ford, Ronald Reagan, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush had mixed business with pleasure, hosting dignitaries and celebrities there. George W. and Barack Obama made the camp’s Evergreen Chapel their primary place of worship.

  But now, for Cooper, Camp David has become a war room, ground zero for “Operation Liberation,” code name for routing protestors from the capital. Cooper has called a meeting of his FBI and Homeland Security Directors and Defense Secretary to finalize the attack.

  “Gentlemen,” he begins, “the infiltration of the inner recesses of the White House and the recording and broadcasting of our secret session on Florida, Inc. is the biggest breach in security the CSA has ever known. It is all-out treason. Two months ago, when that mystery voice invaded New Atlantis and declared John Galt dead, I warned all of you that it was just the beginning.

  “Now, we must declare open war on our enemies and wipe them out once and for all. If we don’t, the Galtian Restoration will have failed. We will have failed it. And I will go down in history as the president who lost the glory of the Corporate States of America and Free-for-All economics. I cannot, I will not, let that happen. Florida, Inc. is a golden opportunity. It comes along once in a generation, if ever. We are in a struggle for our souls.