***
The team Solly assembled to develop his invention worked day and night. They were driven by a genuine passion. They worked for Solly Grey, and Minds, but mostly for themselves. They found test subjects to use for research, but still lacked sources for future funding. The idea did sound appealing to potential investors, but they also thought it very farfetched and off the wall.
Solly's thoughts veered between exhilaration and anxiety, and he wondered how he would get his plan to work - how he would lure advertisers and parcel people's lives into small moments of marketable ad space.
He hated being dependent on others, but there was no other way to move forward. Some of the best minds in the field agreed to pitch in and share their expertise in developing the algorithms and visual interfaces for the network, and he also reached out to some prospective backers with whom he was personally acquainted. But all of them, without exception, would not even hear him and rejected the idea flat out. Some called him “nuts” and questioned the notion that anyone would want to walk around in alternative realities wearing special lenses with a digital implant stuck in his head. The overwhelming response reverberating in his head at the end of that first funding round was: “Are you out of your mind?!”
His debts were digging him into a hole, but he decided to press on with his vision, no matter what. As far as he was concerned, it was the discovery of the millennium, and he was prepared to do whatever it took to find investors.
***
After months of discrete probing, Solly received a peculiar call from one Fabian Sean Rockefeller. He did not know the man, but had heard of his organization, Whitelife, which promoted cloning endangered species and returning them to the wild.
The call from Fabian was the last thing he was expecting. One day, a holographic messenger wearing white overalls from head to toe appeared in his living room to deliver an audio message. He was invited to meet the investor at the Whitelife offices the next day at one o'clock.
The following day Solly hailed a neocar taxi and rode to the meeting place. He left the car, climbed several steps, and found a transparent elevator which opened its door as he approached, waiting to launch him straight to the ninetieth floor, where he passed through a corridor so long he could not see where it terminated. He finally stood in a huge white office, brightly lit and immaculate. The walls displayed images of extinct animals revived and photographed in the expansive natural parks the company managed all over the world. These broadcasts featured 360 degree views of the habitats of giant tortoises, Labrador ducks, Tasmanian wolves, mammoths and giant lemurs.
The floor was covered with wall to wall white aquaponic rugs bustling in a composition of floral bushes and fractal aquariums. There were a few employees drifting through the space, all wearing white buttoned suits and blank faces. They moved quickly and silently. Hard to picture environmentalist activists working here, Solly thought. The fact that he was wearing all black made him feel uncomfortable. An angel of darkness tainting an all-white sanctuary.
Appearing out of nowhere, a woman approached him and with just a smile led the way to a spacious room with a tall and wide window overlooking a stormy blue ocean. The room was all but empty, apart from a white desk and matching armchair where sat a man who presented himself as Fabian. He did not even stand up to greet Solly when he came in the room.
“Hello. Mr. Rockefeller?” Solly asked, polite, yet reserved.
“Come in, Mr. Grey. Sit down,” Fabian said without looking away from the broadcast on the wall.
Solly looked around and saw no other chair.
Only then did Fabian lift his head and stare at the standing Solly. “A chair for Mr. Grey!” he directed a command at the wall. Seconds later, a chair lazily floated into the room, eventually landing at Solly's feet.
“You're dressed all in black. An optimist?” Fabian remarked with a smile.
“A realist,” Solly answered.
“Let's cut to the chase. I represent a client who wishes to remain anonymous for now,” Fabian said. He arranged his tie and poured Solly a glass of expensive martinette
[10] .
“Okay, I see,” Solly said and tightened his grip on the pile of electronic documents he carried with him.
“My client is extremely wealthy, and I would like to present your vision to him. To that end, I'm going to need as much information as you can provide. We want to come to a decision regarding your company. I understand you programmed a thought network. Could I ask for the specifications? I can guarantee absolute confidentiality.”
“Where did you hear about this?” Solly asked and sipped his martinette with shaking hands. Something about the person sitting in front of him made him edgy.
“That's irrelevant. Let's move on,” Fabian cut him off purposefully, not even bothering to smile.
“Well, I have plenty of material with me. Plans, schematics, data. But I would actually like to know the terms you are proposing. Does the client have any preconditions?”
“Before that, what kind of figure did you have in mind?” Fabian asked.
“I was thinking something around a hundred billion Unis,” Solly said meekly.
“OK,” Fabian answered, unfazed by the number. “It all obviously depends on your planned meeting projections. Back to your question – the terms are as follows: an eighty percent controlling share will go to the investor. If your idea is as brilliant and revolutionary as you no doubt believe it to be, we predict the profit to be in the billions, or even more, which means you'll be making a fortune. The client will be the sole investor at this stage, so he should be getting the larger share. It's only logical.”
“That only leaves me twenty percent,” Solly said, disappointed.
“That's correct,” Fabian answered, a thin smile showing on his face for the first time.
Solly smiled back.
“Let's call it fair,” Fabian continued. “You'll make a profit even though we'll be the ones putting up most of the money, since the idea is yours. This is our final and only offer, and it will not be open for negotiation. If you want to leave now, shake hands and walk away from the generous investment my client is offering, that's your decision. If not, we can move forward.”
Solly stared, stunned, at the proper gentleman in his expensive suit, who was pouring him another drink. He drank quickly and thought that any way he looked at it, what he was being offered was extremely one-sided. But the unfortunate truth was that he had no other investors lined up.
“I’ll have to give this some thought,” he said.
“As you wish,” Fabian answered, unflustered.
Solly parted with a nod and left the room. Walking again in the long corridor, he felt his heart racing. He leaned on the wall and clutched at his chest, his face red and drops of perspiration coalescing on his forehead. He left the building and breathed the fresh air. All he could think about was how pathetic it would be if he had to shut up shop before finding an investment. His former partners were already doing well without him, and he had to face the facts: he was not doing well. He imagined himself living on the street, children pointing his way and asking their parents, “Who is that?”
And so, without giving it another thought, he turned on his heels and returned to Fabian.
“Okay,” was the only thing he managed to say when he entered the room.
“Okay means 'yes,' I presume?”
“Yes,” Solly answered, stifled.
“Then I’ll now share an audio documentation of our agreement with you, to be verified by voice signature. The client will meet you under his conditions, after you sign your voice to the terms of the deal, which will come into effect if and when the client agrees to move forward. Here is the memorandum. Our part in the agreement is contingent on prior inspection of the specifications, and we may withdraw our offer at any time during the next twenty-four hours. If everything checks out, your signature will serve as a commitment to sign the final contract. Would you like to have your legal coun
sel go over it?”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Solly, trying to sound assertive. “I see no reason to delay. I approve.”
He skimmed through the document and noticed many clauses that favored the investor, but swallowed his dignity. There was too much at stake, and it was not practical to go into such minute detail.
“There. Approved. We can move forward,” he said and placed a finger on the dynamic table to seal his signature. The surface of the table projected images of majestic orcas – leaping into the air, baring their teeth at the glittering sun, and diving back and into the depths.
“Do you like orcas?” he asked Fabian, to chase away his embarrassment and put the impulsive signing off his mind.
“It was a gift from a friend,” he answered. “They're magical creatures.”
“Somewhat scary,” Solly said.
“We're all God's creatures,” Fabian smiled and shook his hand. “There's no reason to fear an orca. The stupidity of people is much scarier. So this is the plan: by the end of the day, you’ll answer my questions and transmit the features and detailed technical specifications of your thought network, and I’ll pass the information on to the investor and coordinate a discrete meeting between the two of you for the signing.”
Solly nodded, and then explained at length all the details of his plan for the Minds network.
Fabian took note of everything he learned, and added his own professional assessment of the project's chances of success. He asked many questions, probed, pored over every situation and simulated every possible scenario. He was composed, dispensed with flattery, and toned down his enthusiasm, holding back any show of satisfaction that might compromise his position. He only said that he would be in touch with his client, and reminded Solly that the negotiations were absolutely confidential.
It was only after he left the office that Solly began to acknowledge that the staggering investment he was about to receive would be bought for the terrible price of losing ownership of his idea. Even so, it was better than being left with nothing, he consoled himself.
“The client wishes to move forward” was the simple, businesslike and oh, so desperately hoped for answer he finally received. He opened a confidential file on his flexiscreen, which contained flight plans and a map, instructing him on how to arrive at the pickup point. There, he was to meet a person charged with taking him to a Limo Car and blindfolding him, then rendezvous with an amphibian hovercraft that would traverse water and land until finally arriving at the destination where he was to meet with the client. He was to have dinner with his secret investor before again leaving the location. At the end of the meeting, he would meet with Fabian to confirm that everything worked out, and they would each depart on separate flights. Within a day, the freakish sum would be deposited into a special account set for the company, thereafter known as ‘Minds’.
Solly wondered about his odd business partners. They had faith enough in technological progress to be willing to invest billions, and yet their protocol dictated that no document or piece of information should be transferred via the network. All their contact was to be face to face, a custom long abandoned elsewhere.
He guessed they were probably operating on their own secure channels.
He was briefed not to ask the client any personal or professional question which did not pertain to their mutual business. By then he did not care anymore, as long as he returned with the investment and without a hitch. The main thing was to make Minds a reality. He tingled at the thought and felt encouraged. A little.
***
En route to his meeting with the investor, he was met by a private pilot who did not say a word to him. He was nauseous. The windows of the Limo Car dimmed as soon as he entered and, with his consent, a man there blindfolded him and poured him a drink. Soft music played in the background, stripped clean of all the latest sound effects. How rare. He had a long journey ahead of him, and even though he wondered about the identity of the client who had decided to sink so much money into his idea, he dared not ask.
After landing, Solly's blindfold was removed, and before him stood an enormous aquarium themed castle in the middle of a snow covered boreal forest. The house was girded by a dark blue, frozen stream. He quickly walked inside, accompanied by the client's staff. Some sunlight penetrated the forest canopy and warmed his cold face. The ceilings were particularly high, and the walls projected live feeds of oceans and floating glaciers.
“Your party will be joined in a moment,” an eloquent delicate female voice resonated through the wall. “In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable, and help yourself to a drink.” Solly looked around and saw a small bar projecting from the wall. He suddenly heard steps approaching. Rhythmic, determined footfalls penetrated the floorboards directly into his head. He turned around and saw a tall man in a white suit. His shiny, full, black hair was combed back, and his bright blue eyes were more piercing than any he had encountered in years. The man promptly sat down on a sofa which used a unique engine design to propel itself through the room in a whale-like motion he found soothing. He poured himself a white enzyme cocktail and said, “It's my own secret recipe. Help yourself to one, too.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Solly said and extended a hand, but the client ignored the gesture and answered coldly, “Pleased to meet you, too.”
“Do you also like orcas?” Solly asked, trying to break the already cracking ice.
“I heard you were impressed by the orcas at Fabian's. Do I like them? The word 'like' gets thrown around too much. I'm helplessly in love with them.”
They both smiled.
“Don't be afraid, Mr. Grey. They’re intelligent and misleading creatures. As dangerous as they no doubt are, they're also very gentle,” he said and stroked Orcuin, a furry hybrid between an orca and a penguin.
“Say hello to someone who isn't very fond of strangers,” he said.
Solly reached his hand to pet it, but changed his mind midway and pulled back.
“Don't be scared of her,” the client assured him.
“But she's half orca.”
“Yes. Like some people, orcas simply pay the price for having a bad image.”
Solly watched her lie on her belly. He glanced at the man, clearly enchanted with his pet. It was hard to compete with the attention she got for simply being there.
“What's truly magical about orcas, my friend, is their ability to knock their prey out before devouring it,” the man expanded. “Orca dolphins are loyal to their packs and leave them only for short spells to forage and mate. It wouldn't hurt people to be as social as they are. They greet members of their clan by swimming in parallel lines. Did you know this?”
“No,” Solly admitted.
“I need my breathing space and can't stand to have another living and breathing being next to me, apart from Orcuin, of course. She understands me. I'm a firm believer in communication that runs along parallel lines; there's no need to be in physical contact. It's not that I haven't tried, but I was robbed of my oxygen. There’s no point in two masculine beings swimming in circles in the same waters. Why share life with another person when you can have everything to yourself?”
“Yes,” Solly hesitated. He didn't really understand where the human orca dolphin sitting across from him was going with it, but kept nodding nonetheless.
“It's our duty to understand how the world works,” the stranger continued. “Those who stay hungry prosper – that is the microcosm of our reality. We move in social circles where the strong survive and the weak drown – or float to the surface, more accurately. There will always be somebody to pick you off. Make you disappear. Throw you out. The clever thing is to eat and not get eaten.”
“It's sad that some have to starve,” Solly said.
“That's life. Those who spare others are spared progress. And to our business: I read everything about Minds with great interest. My general approach to business is to always be skeptical, but occasionally I allow myself to go ov
erboard. Like in your case. I'm deeply moved by your vision. What’s your prediction? Where do you see this taking us?”
“To a situation where the entire world is connected by thought,” Solly answered without wavering.
“And then?” Christoph teased.
“They'll be hooked and won't be able to disconnect.”
“Where you connect, you also disconnect,” he laughed. “Pleased to meet you. My name is Christoph Müller,” he said and extended his hand.
***
The contract was signed in Christoph's castle, the place where it all began. Humanoid waiters served them extravagant dishes that might all have been original creations. They served neo-groper fish, a meaty species whose more monstrous lab-grown variety now lay in their plates. Solly remembered that meeting to its last detail.
“I understand you went through a rough period before coming up with this,” Christoph said between chewing and swallowing.
“Yes,” Solly answered, “very much so. I caught a very nasty virus. Long story. I lost the company I founded, my partners abandoned me, I was deep in debt, but I believe in the network... I know it will become a part of life. We all have our dream worlds.”
“Certainly,” said Christoph. “My dream world is free of stupidity. Unfortunately, even with Minds up and running, that's not something that will go away.”
“Yes, that's humanity for you,” Solly answered. “The lowest common denominator will always be just that. But you won't have to see them if you don't want to… that's the clever bit.”
“As long as they are there, they will be a burden. A mental, financial, and social burden. The network will sense them and suffer.” A note of desperation appeared in Christoph's voice, and Solly felt a strong urge to comfort him.
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