Rhapsody For The Tempest (The Braintrust Book 3)

by Marc Stiegler

  Peasants were of course just peasants even if they had guns, but on this ship, they would be led by peacekeepers who, according to every briefing from every event that ever involved them, were so formidable as to yet be undefeated. Could his forty men take the ship in the face of such defiance? Where everyone but his own men knew every nook and cranny, every vantage point, every kill zone? How many hundreds of peasants lived on board these ships, anyway? He could hear Chairman Mao laughing at him across the ages. The lieutenant, with his unyielding focus on his mission, had placed his captain in an impossible position.

  The thumping of Marine boots in the passageway saved Chunlan from answering. Everyone turned to watch.

  Accompanied by two Marines who towered over her, an elderly woman shuffled into the room. Except she did not exactly shuffle; her feet moved as if shuffling, but she held her head high and smiled with gentle wisdom upon the captain.

  A Marine spoke excitedly. “We found one of the kidnapped villagers, Captain.”

  The lieutenant pointed triumphantly. “There you have it!”

  The elder looked at the lieutenant as if she were inspecting a bug. “My name is Nuan. My family and I have come here to help with the Fuxing’s reef farming, and with Liu Fan Hui’s mining venture.”

  Farming and mining. Exactly what peasants were supposed to do with their time. Somehow, Captain Chunlan suspected it didn’t mean quite the same thing here with these BrainTrust people, but on paper it couldn’t appear more proper.

  The captain supposed it was now up to him to make some sense of this. “Were you kidnapped?”

  Nuan snorted. “Not until your Marines here dragged me away from my quarters.”

  Chunlan looked to the marines. “Was there any evidence of kidnapping? Was she locked in her cabin, chained, or anything at all?” Of course back on the mainland, if a peasant were chained up to make sure he made it to work the next day, it would usually pass without comment. Still, the captain was here with specific orders to find kidnapping victims.

  The Marines looked sheepish. “No, sir. She seemed free to come and go as she pleased.”

  The lieutenant croaked out an argument. “Where could she go to escape out here two hundred miles from home?”

  The captain finally saw his way through to a survivable outcome. “Nuan, I have forty marines here able and willing to escort you and your family anywhere you’d like to go. Do you desire to come with us?”

  Nuan glared at the Marines and the lieutenant, then once again turned her compassionate glow upon the captain. “We are happier here than we have been in two thousand years.”

  Whoa. Two thousand years. Who was this aged peasant, anyway? No matter.

  Captain Chunlan rose. “Our task here is done. As I suspected, there are no kidnapped villagers.”

  The lieutenant opened his mouth to speak, but the captain silenced him with a look and turned to his hosts. “Mission Commander, Fleet Captain, Liu Fan Hui, this meal was lovely.”

  All rose, Fan swiftest, taking the lead as her training no doubt compelled her to. “And it was a delight to have you here, Captain. We should do this again.” She had a thought. “Indeed, living in such close proximity, I believe we should make this a monthly gathering. To liaise, and make sure no failures in communication lead to hasty errors.”

  The captain nodded gravely.

  Fan Hui reached into her pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Take this,” she urged, pushing the phone into his hand. “This is a BrainTrust phone. The most reliable thing you can use on the open ocean if there’s an archipelago nearby.”

  The captain accepted the phone, which he knew was not only reliable but also quite invulnerable to prying ears. He wondered what he and Liu Fan Hui would find to talk about in such privacy, but “Thank you,” was all he said.

  He turned to Lenora. “I’ll get back to you about my son. I must think about it.”

  Lenora nodded. “Any questions, just call.” She smiled. “Use Fan’s phone if you want to.”

  By the time Captain Chanlun reached his cruiser he already knew what he would do. First, he would inform the Politburo that the Fuxing held no kidnapped villagers. The vehicle that had invaded China’s sovereign airspace had been destroyed, as you could see from the sensors on the Renhai. The lone woman who had been aboard during the incursion was lost at sea amid blood and sharks. Case closed.

  He also knew he would send his son to Lenora, and probably his daughter as well. His decision had nothing to do with the politics of appeasing a petulant princeling, nor did it have anything to do with concerns about military tactical posture. It had only to do with the fact that Captain Han Chunlan was a father. His children deserved the best education they could get.

  13

  Practical Ethics

  For every challenge we face—unemployment, poverty, crime, income growth, income inequality, productivity, competitiveness—a great education is a major component of the solution.

  —Bruce Rauner

  Jam caught up with Dash outside Lenora’s classroom. Dash was just finishing a conversation on her phone. “Thank you, Bu Amanda. I understand how difficult it will be to move everyone, but we need the space. Should we consider building another full isle ship for medical research and medical tourism? I wouldn’t be surprised if we could fill a whole ship soon.” Dash listened for a moment. “Yes, quite right. Putting a medical ship with the Fuxing would be an excellent idea.”

  A few moments later, Dash said goodbye. She turned to Jam with a big smile. “I don’t know how much you heard, but we are taking over the whole Wenara Wana Monkey Forest deck of the Chiron for rejuvenation patients.”

  “No more deaths?” Jam asked with concern.

  “Not with the ones who pass our prescreening. We can scale up our treatments of them while separately figuring out how to treat the others.”

  Jam hugged her. “Congratulations.” She pulled away. “Now, what did you want to see me about, here outside Lenora’s classroom?”

  “I have a gift for Professor Thornhill. I thought you should do the presentation.” Dash handed Jam her tablet and explained what was so special.

  Jam breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Awesome. Thank you, girl.”

  They entered Lenora’s sanctum together.

  Lenora stood by the gaming table watching four youngsters hunch over a board. She looked up and smiled. “Jam.” She left the children and met them halfway.

  Jam performed the introductions. “Lenora, this is Dash. Dash, Lenora.”

  Lenora’s smile grew wider. “Dash. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  Dash’s smile seemed a little forced. “I seem to have trouble staying out of the limelight. But you know, it was Toni Shatzki who fought off the Chinese fighters and saved your people.”

  Lenora chuckled. “That’s not the main reason everyone tells stories about you.”

  Jam intervened. “Anyway, Dash brought me this. You really need to see it.” She synced the tablet to one of the wallscreens and started showing Lenora a series of short vid clips.

  It only took Lenora a moment to understand what she was seeing. “Scenario testing. Instead of using the Milgram experiment with its risk of significant psychological trauma, the subject is shown a series of videos and stories, each of which requires a decision at the end. All the choices have both good and bad consequences, so it gives us rich feedback to evaluate. And of course, we would have the sensors hooked up to the subject while it’s all happening.”

  Dash nodded. “Researchers had this all working quite well for identifying excellent leaders just after the turn of the century. The long-term payoff for using it was substantial, but so was the upfront cost. Poor leaders were unable to bring themselves to make the investment to groom the next generation of excellent leaders.”

  Dash paused. “You are not looking for excellent leaders, of course, or at least not exactly. But the principles are the same. And from what Jam tells me, you have the vision necessary to drive forward
with it.”

  Lenora sighed. “One of my co-founders, James, tried to persuade me to use scenario testing like this instead of Milgram, but we weren’t getting as reliable a read.” She shook her head. “James hasn’t talked to me since.”

  Dash spoke with confidence. “I am quite sure Dr. Caplan will be happy to speak with you again. I worked with him on this set of scenarios, which are better than what he had before. But even more important, I introduced him to Dark Alpha 42.”

  Lenora raised an eyebrow in puzzlement.

  Jam explained. “It’s this exotic AI Dash uses for analyzing really complex data. For some problems, it can give much better results than human interpretations.”

  Now Lenora looked excited. She clasped her hands as if in prayer. “And this Dark Alpha can interpret these scenarios? Better than we can? We don’t have to use Milgram anymore?”

  Dash beamed. “No Milgram anymore.”

  Lenora threw her arms around a surprised Dash. “Thank you!” Her voice broke. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.”

  Jam added, “It gets better. Dash hooked it up to the camera in the cell phone. By watching for microexpressions, pupil dilation, and jittering from hand movement as the candidate watches the scenario, the new app can get a surprisingly good preliminary read.”

  Dash continued. “You can include this in the preliminary testing app, significantly improving candidate selection in the field, before they reach the Fuxing.”

  Lenora shook her head in amazement and looked at Jam. “So all the stories about her are true, then?”

  Jam smiled wickedly at Dash. “Almost all of them.”

  “Hey!” Dash exclaimed, and glared back.

  Dash fiddled with the instruments surrounding Ping’s hospital bed. “Considering everything, you are in very good shape. I’ll probably let you out of here tomorrow.”

  Ping responded enthusiastically. “Great! I think Captain Jack is throwing a party tomorrow night. We’ll go dancing!”

  Dash rolled her eyes.

  Jam stuck her head in the door. “If you’re done, Dash, I have someone who needs to see Ping. In private.”

  Dash looked puzzled but obeyed the implicit request. She looked at Ping. “I’ll see you in the morning if not before.”

  As she exited the room, an older Chinese couple stepped past her. Upon seeing Ping, the woman gasped; Ping growled, and Jam closed the door behind them.

  Dash frowned. “Who are they?”

  Jam’s eyes gleamed. “Their names are Shu Shi and Kuo Lim. I met them in Baotong.” She held her hand up to cup her ear as if trying to more clearly hear the sounds from Ping’s room. “As for who they are, that is what I’m trying to find out.”

  The sounds rose and fell. Despair, anger, and something that might have been a muffled laugh reached them in quick succession. Finally, the door opened.

  Shu Shi looked downcast, weeping openly. Her husband hugged her tightly. “Well, Ms. Jam, it was a good thought. Thank you for trying.” Kuo Lim continued to hold her as they shuffled, despondent, down the hallway.

  Then, as they were about to turn into a side passage, Shu Shi straightened and jumped up and down gleefully in her husband’s arms. Kuo Lim looked back at Jam and spoke to her in a fierce whisper. Shu Shi looked back as well and slumped once more as they disappeared from view.

  Dash twitched her nose, perplexed. “What was that all about?”

  Jam just shook her head, smiling slyly. “Looks like we have a winner.”

  After Dash departed to check on other patients, Jam went back into Ping’s room.

  Ping pursed her lips.

  Jam raised her eyebrows innocently. “What?”

  Ping sighed. “It’s terrible, what happened to their family. Shame about their daughter.”

  Jam nodded sagely. “Evil. And tragic. But I have to wonder—”

  Fan Hui strutted into the room. “Your name is Ping?”

  Ping glared at the intruder. “What could you possibly want?”

  “I’m Liu Fan Hui.”

  “I know who you are.”

  “Excellent.” Fan pulled a small box from her pocket, removed a military medal, and placed it on Ping’s pillow. “For you, for heroism in protecting the people of China. And just as importantly, protecting my personal workers.”

  Ping rolled her head to contemplate the medal. “You do know I shot down two Chinese fighters while protecting your workers, right?”

  Fan waved it aside. “Following improper orders. Imagine shooting down a craft full of Chinese citizens! Insane.” She scrutinized Ping’s face. “Do I know you? You look familiar.”

  Ping started to pull a pillow over her face but thought better of it. Instead, she glared at her interrogator. “I’ve spent most of my life in Chicago.”

  Fan frowned. “Still…” She brightened. “You’re a hukou peasant, aren’t you?” Her tone suggested the question was rhetorical.

  Ping licked her lips. “I’m a BrainTruster.”

  Again Fan waved away the counterpoint; objections slid off her like rainwater on a duck. “I shall give you something else in addition to the medal.” She paused, hoping to see some anticipation in her audience, but in this she was finally disappointed. “Urban papers.”

  Ping’s eyes bulged. “You want to give me urban papers? But if I were a hukou peasant, that would be—”

  “Not for me,” Fan announced triumphantly. “I have persuaded my father to try another experiment. We shall be giving new papers to the very meritorious who have suffered from the hukou system. Just a few for now, but eventually…” she looked off into the distance, seeing a shining new vista of enlightenment, “eventually, perhaps as many as one in a thousand peasants will be lifted up and transformed into urban citizens.”

  At this point two interruptions occurred, in the forms of Dash and Lenora. Dash spoke first. “Ping, if you’re going to have this many visitors tracking through here, we’re going to have to set up a traffic circle.”

  Dash looked at Fan. “Can you continue this conversation tomorrow? Ping needs to rest.”

  Fan smiled lazily at Dash. “Of course.” She turned and said goodbye to Ping. “I know I know you from somewhere. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

  As Fan left hearing range, Lenora muttered, “As many as one in a thousand.” She sighed. “Baby steps. Very tiny itty bitty baby steps.”

  Ping looked up at Jam. “We have to kill that bitch, you know. You do know we have to kill her, don’t you?”

  Jam jerked, startled. “She hasn’t really done anything wrong.” She looked at Lenora. “Has she?”

  Lenora chuckled. “Very helpful so far, actually.”

  Ping sighed. “Fine. I’ll kill the bitch.” Seeing Dash frown, she added, “Not until she needs it.” She looked down. “I guess.”

  Dash continued on her current mission. “Everybody out now. Like I said, Ping needs to rest.”

  Lenora held up her hand, like a student in a classroom wishing to ask a question. “One last quick thing, please.”

  When Dash reluctantly nodded, Lenora turned to Ping. “I just got a call from Ciara. She says a young man just showed up requesting a place on the Prometheus, and that her doctors have never seen anyone so battered who was still alive. He has two kinds of tropical fevers, he’s been stabbed at least twice and shot at least once, and if he’d arrived a day later he would’ve lost an eye to some kind of jungle parasite. He says he walked from Somalia, his name is Abshir, and he insisted we talk to you. He says you promised.”

  Ping went off in a flight of nearly hysterical laughter. “Ohmigod, he’s in even worse shape than I was when…”

  Jam took a step closer to her. “When?” she encouraged her friend.

  Ping turned to Lenora. “By all means, tell Ciara to let him on board. He’s more than earned it. Tell her it’s all about the grit.”

  Ping glanced at Jam, who started to speak again. Ping squeezed her eyes shut and quickly interjected, “I�
��m very tired now. I need to rest.”

  Jam put her hands on her hips. “But—”

  Dash put her hands on her hips. “Later.”

  Jam looked at Dash; Dash looked back; Jam slumped. “Well, it was worth a try.” Together, Jam, Dash, and Lenora left Ping in solitude.

  The mayor of Baotong forced himself to be very polite to the very powerful man on the other end of the phone. “Yes, sir, I understand, sir. I have some promising possibilities among the younger people in a village farther west. Have I considered giving the people who come to work the fields a higher percentage of revenues? But… Yes, sir. I, ah, yes, I’ll be considering that too. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” The mayor slammed the antique phone down.

  His lunch break was coming to a close, and soon he’d be out in the field. Plowing.

  For just a moment he regretted never studying the ridiculous machines the villagers cobbled together. He was now realizing that they’d saved an incredible amount of time using devices held together with duct tape and baling wire.

  Well, soon this was all going to be nothing but a bad memory. A few days after his village had been kidnapped he’d received a new cell phone by special delivery. The sender was a mystery.

  Puzzling over it, he’d flipped the phone on, despite knowing that no cell phones worked here. But wonder of wonders, it hooked right up to the web and the cell system with not a hiccup. And it opened up an amazing world of opportunities for him.

  He had been incredibly fortunate to be immediately contacted by a Russian oligarch who needed fast cash so he could move his funds out of the country before the Premier locked them down.

  It had taken just about every penny the mayor had, but this morning the oligarch had assured him that they'd gotten the funds out in the nick of time. Soon the oligarch would start paying him back, with interest. A lot of interest. Then the mayor would move away from this cursed place just like the villagers, only a lot richer.

  Meanwhile, in his favorite game app, Peasant Crush, he only needed two more aquamarine gems to level up. He could probably play for a few minutes now before going out into the fields. Yes, just a few minutes.