by Jen Cole
Collis nodded and disconnected but before she had a chance to do anything, a second priority siren sounded and she accepted the call.
“Danny! But your work shift doesn’t finish for another…” Angela checked the time, “thirty-five minutes. How…”
He gave a weak smile. “I’m sitting in a transport in the middle of no-man’s-land. I’m hoping when my work shift is over it will take me to my own silo and not the prison one. At the moment I’m able to make calls out, but just as if I were still on work shift, no one can contact me.”
Angela machine-gunned the questions, “What? How could that be? Are you under arrest? Collis just called. Someone’s hacked in and changed the access price of Play or Die. Is this something to do with that?”
Again, Fitani produced a watery smile. “I was pulled off the work shift early to be censured by Secretary Briggs on behalf of the CEO.”
Angela gasped and then frowned uncertainly. “Is this a stunt?”
“No stunt, Angela. Listen, I could be cut off at any time. I was the one who changed the access price of Play or Die.” He ignored her second gasp and continued. “It seems I’m in big trouble.”
Angela had never seen Fitani so shaken and unsure of himself. “Are you talking about Jo breaking the new rule?”
“There’s that, but The Company is also upset about the breach of our pipeline and the distribution of those history files to the employees. It’s caused… well you know what it’s caused. Chaos.”
Angela bit her lip. “Danny, I’m so sorry…”
“You weren’t in the studio Playroom at time,” he said. “If you had been, the hackers would never have succeeded. And now that we’ve made the pipeline hack-proof, it won’t happen again.”
Except, thought Angela, for that little back door I left in, and felt her face reddening.
Fitani saw it and hastened to reassure her. “Don’t worry about it Angela. No one’s mistake-proof. You still have my confidence, but now I have to win back the confidence of the CEO. My penalty for the trouble I’ve caused is having the rental on the studio Playroom increased tenfold.”
“What? Danny, we can’t…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make up any shortfall in payments to our people out of my own pocket. It’s only for the next three days, but you see why I’ve had to put up the access price of Play or Die. I just hope it doesn’t result in my dangling from a rope like those effigies we burn each season.” He gave a weak laugh.
Angela spoke firmly. “It won’t come to that Danny. You concentrate on being the perfect game show host. I’ll see what I can do from here.”
She disconnected and lay thinking. The world was changing by the minute. Employees now knew that in the past there’d been many types of governments. Some had operated like The Company, while others had used chosen representatives of the people, who could be changed through elections. They’d learnt that many of the first democratic governments had been hard fought for, and if enough people wanted the same thing, they could get it by standing together and demanding – fighting if necessary. Angela could see why The Company wouldn’t want employees knowing that.
Now they’d pulled Fitani off his work shift to censure him! It was unheard of. And they’d forced him to put Play or Die out of the reach of ordinary employees. If they were that worried about what Jo was saying, the employees needed to hear it.
She put a call through to Collis.
“Well my darling?” His eyes twinkled and she marveled that after all this time his smile could still melt her. “Price glitch now straightened out?”
She shook her head. “Afraid not. Turns out the price is correct.”
“But that’s outrageous! What’s Fitani thinking? Has he become so greedy he believes people will pay anything to watch Play or Die?”
Angela chose her words carefully. She didn’t want to get Fitani into even more trouble. “I suspect The Company may have influenced his decision.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps Jo’s words hold more truth than we thought?”
Collis stared at her for a second. “Do you really believe that?”
“I’m starting to.”
“It’s a big step from saying The Company isn’t giving us enough information, to accusing them of actual dishonesty.”
“Yes, Collis, it is. But if putting Play or Die beyond the ordinary person’s reach is all Fitani’s idea, why is The Company helping? They’ve just slashed the prices on the top five entertainments for… well what do you know, three days only – exactly the time remaining for the hunt, if Jo manages to keep staying alive.”
Collis frowned. “If The Company doesn’t want us watching Play or Die because they have something to hide, then we have to find a way to watch it.”
Angela nodded. “I agree, and I have an idea, but first we need to bring people together. I’m going to post a topic in the main virtual discussion room. How does this sound for a title: “What are we going to do about the Play or Die price hike?”
He grinned. “That should bring them in. I’ll start sending word around.”
Ten minutes later avatars filled the discussion room and voices were breaking out everywhere.
“What’s Fitani playing at?”
“That guy’s got way too big for his boots.”
“He can’t just put the price up like that in the middle of a show, can he?”
“I say we put him up on the end of a rope!”
“Better yet, let’s storm the Fun ’n’ Games Playroom and demand they return the rental price of Play or Die to twenty Personal Points.”
This last comment came from Gunter, who resided in a northern Safe Place. It met with instant approval and when people in her own Safe Place began volunteering for the storming group, Angela spoke up.
“Let’s say a group does goes calling on the Fun ’n’ Games Playroom and Fitani still won’t reduce the price. What then, violence? People trying that would be enveloped in black clouds and easily overcome. All they’d achieve would be disruption to the shooting and broadcasting of Play or Die, which isn’t what we want at all.”
Gunter glowered. “Do you have a better idea?”
“As it happens, I do,” said Angela, and waited for the room to grow quiet. “How does this sound? Each Safe Place chooses someone. Let’s call that person the ‘Get-around’. The Get-around pays the access fee for Play or Die and rents a blank Playroom, where they put up a virtual viewing screen to display the show. The Get-around then charges a nominal fee to any employee who wants to access the screen. The viewers’ fees will cover the Get-around’s costs.”
“Far more than cover them!” said Gunter. “Each Safe Place will have thousands of viewers. Your Get-arounds will be making a fortune.”
“The aim isn’t to make anyone rich,” said Angela quickly, but to give people access to Play or Die at a low cost. We could build in safeguards to ensure the Get-arounds don’t profit from this.”
“How?” said Gunter.
Sue-li from an eastern Safe Place broke in excitedly. “All we need to do is create a holding fund. Those wanting to access the virtual screen would pay their Personal Points into the fund. The Get-arounds would be authorized to withdraw enough Points from the fund to cover their costs and no more.”
“I could create a program to do that,” cried Angela. “I’d set it up in such a way that everyone would be able to see what Points were being paid into the Fund and what the Get-arounds were withdrawing. Any leftover points at the end could be divided amongst those who’d made payments.”
Some animated discussion followed, but not everyone liked the idea. Anton, from Angela’s own Safe Place, summed up the main drawback. “Those paying to watch the show on a virtual screen wouldn’t be able to send in their responses to Jo’s actions. Only the Get-arounds would have access to the Emoto Board.”
“Then we need a way for the Get-around’s responses to represent the whole Safe Place,” said Collis. “All the Emoto Board does i
s collect responses and average them out to a point score. So all we have to do, is get viewers to send their own score to their Get-around.”
Collis waved away the cries of derision and the rush of questions. “Let me finish. “Say that every 15 minutes, those watching Play or Die on a Get-around’s screen, send a score between -10 and 10 to a computer program set up for the Get-around. The program would average the submitted scores and display a single number. If the number was below -4, the Get-around would concentrate on radiating disapproval to the Emoto Board. From -4 to 4, the Get-around would stay calmly neutral and if the number were 5 or more, would radiate approval. That way, the Get-around in each Safe Place would vote for all of us.”
There was a rush of comments and Vicky Kwong spoke above the rest to point out a problem. “If we did that, there’s no way each Safe Place could have just one Get-around. We’d need at least four watching on six hours shifts, in order to continuously cover the game. And the Get-arounds would have to be people of great integrity, who had sufficient control over themselves to be able to send an emotional message that might be different from what they personally felt.”
“It’s doable,” Collis insisted, “if we select the right people.”
“Who decides who the right people are?” asked Anton, and a silence fell upon the discussion room.
“Fellow employees,” cut in Harold, a little pompously, “have we not just been reading about how the Ancestors resolved such dilemmas? Let us all decide! Let those who believe they would make good Get-arounds prepare a one-minute holo-speech explaining why they should be selected. And let each Safe Place vote for their Get-arounds.”
This time the chatter was enthusiastic and the plan was agreed. As time was tight, employees who wished to nominate themselves as Get-arounds were given a mere hour to create and submit a one-minute holo-speech explaining why people should vote for them. Such was the excitement this generated, that people sent message sirens to wake up friends in tube sleep and by the end of the hour, every Safe Place had a dozen or more holo-speeches registered.
Now an hour and a half was given for people to review the speeches and vote for one person. At the end of that time the computer would tally the votes and announce each Safe Place’s top four. These would become the Get-arounds. Employees about to go to Work-Time objected that this would not allow them to vote, but time constraints overrode their objections and the 90-minute timeframe stood.
Never before had employees taken an active hand in important decision-making affecting their own lives, and the newfound power set them afire. Those who had begun tuning into the cut-price alternative entertainments abandoned them in favor of avidly examining the holo-speeches and casting their votes.
By Jo’s 5.00 a.m. coordinates broadcast, each Safe Place had a blank Playroom screening Play or Die, and four elected Get-arounds working in shifts to send responses to the Emoto Board in line with their viewers’ wishes.
The employees had lost only three hours of the show. These covered the time after Jo and Richard had passed successfully through the police roadblock, and included the 2.00 a.m. broadcast. Though it was likely nothing much had happened in those hours, it was always possible the Hunter had found Jo, so unprecedented numbers flocked to rent access to the Get-arounds’ viewing screens at the low, low price of five Personal Points per hour.
…
Melvin Briggs left his conversation with Fitani feeling decidedly better. Jo’s recent sermon to the employees urging them to take control of their lives would be the last speech from her they would hear. By the time the bots brought in his breakfast, the employees would have forgotten Play or Die and be totally immersed in the new cut-price entertainments.
It had been a long stressful day, but Melvin had won out, and he rewarded himself with a relaxing bath before preparing for bed. As he lowered himself onto the soft mattress, he could not resist one last eavesdrop on the main employee discussion room to see how they were reacting to the new price.
Now, as his wife lay sleeping, Melvin sat bolt upright in his viewing headset, shocked to the core. The very thing he’d sought to prevent was happening. A rebellion was in progress. Employees were plotting to subvert the price hike! Their plan seemed elaborate, involving organizing elections, payments into holding funds and collecting and tabulating feedback scores, to enable individuals to influence the Emoto Board for a large group. These were all tasks that professionals such as the Secretarial staff of any Safe Place would take weeks to organize.
Melvin actually let out a chuckle when he realized that in their enthusiasm the employees had bitten off far more than they could chew. When it all fell in a heap, they’d disperse to their own individual pursuits and think twice about joining any future call to unite.
But as the minutes went by it become apparent that the tasks were not only within their means but were being completed at an extraordinary rate. It was as though in not knowing how long such things should take, they were uninhibited by psychological barriers. Melvin watched mesmerized, as working smoothly without fuss, the employees completed everything they’d set out to do, regaining access to the game at exactly 5.00 a.m.
Stunned and disbelieving, he took off his headset and slipped beneath the covers, lying rigidly with his eyes open. Was there anything left he could do? In his mind he saw the employees as a huge cauldron coming rapidly to the boil, and the flame underneath was Play or Die.
If he could find a way of quenching that flame, he might stop the cauldron from boiling over and avert a disaster. If not… he couldn’t bring himself to imagine the consequences. But how could he quench it? To close down the broadcast now would be like throwing kerosene on the flames. The anger triggered would be enough to start the very revolt against The Company he was trying to prevent.
His only hope was to keep making it harder for the employees to access the game. He could do that in his own Safe Place, by raising the rental price of every blank Playroom to a point that made watching Play or Die, even secondhand, too expensive for the employees. The trouble was, they’d simply access a screening in one of the other Safe Places. No, to make this work, the rental price of every blank Playroom in every Safe Place on Earth, would have to be raised.
Briggs had no control over the Secretaries of the other Safe Places and knew from past experience that trying to influence them was a minefield. Those he counted as friends would no doubt go along, but others would be recalcitrant as a matter of course. After all, who was Briggs – a mere secretary to a Secretary, residing in a distant Safe Place, to tell them what to do? It was inevitable there’d be holdouts, and the scheme wouldn’t work without the cooperation of every Safe Place.
Nothing short of a directive from the CEO himself would make the Secretaries in the other Safe Places toe the line, and knowing his chances of swinging that, Melvin’s heart sank. Still, he could think of no alternative. He closed his eyes. First thing in the morning he would call his boss, Julian Hastmeyer, Secretary to the CEO.
…
Danny Fitani heaved a thankful sigh when the transport finally returned him to his own silo. He now had twelve hours of safety in his tube before having to face the wrath of the employees. But on arriving, he was amazed at the lack of blinking message lights. Why wasn’t everyone after his blood? A call to Angela provided the reason.
Fitani’s relief that the viewers had circumvented the price hike gradually gave way to a feeling of betrayal. The Company had thrown him to the wolves – he, their most loyal employee. Why had they treated him so? They couldn’t really be worried about Jo’s lies and misdirection. There must be another reason.
Cradled in the comfort of his smart mat, Fitani gave the matter deep thought. Mother Company had supported and loved him when he’d been a child and he knew of no others who had received such personalized attention from her. She obviously believed he was special – destined for great things. He thought he’d repaid that belief by developing his showmanship skills and bringing joy to the employe
es.
Obviously she had expected far more, and he had failed her. The ‘betrayal’ was her way of telling him so. Fitani was filled with a sense of horror. She mustn’t abandon him. He would make amends. He would show her he was worthy. But how? She’d been expecting something of him. The Company must have been leaving me hints, he thought. What hints have I missed?
Gradually a phrase began repeating in his mind – ‘Sacred Company Business’. The blurred areas – they were the only things that ever changed! He slapped the side of his head. How could I have been so blind? For hundreds of years, under our very noses, The Company has been expanding the blurs and no one’s ever realized this was a message. It has to be what I was chosen for.
He thought back to The Great Arising. When the first employees had given up their homes in the centers of the Safe Places, The Company had promised they would always be able to view their lands. Company technicians had set up the first computer networks in the silos, which had included surveillance software enabling silo dwellers to look upon their lands at any time.
In each Safe Place, however, one section was blurred out – the area where Company Executives lived and performed their sacred work, and which must never be disturbed by prying eyes.
As time went on, employees had gained their own skills, and twice, curious individuals had tried to crack the programming blurring the area devoted to Sacred Company Business. In each case an electrical shock had been sent back though the computer, instantly frying the transgressor. The lesson had been learnt and to this day, the taboo on the blurred areas remained strong.
Since the first network installation, silo computer systems had been upgraded countless times, and for many generations employees had looked after the upgrading themselves. The one exception had been the land surveillance software. This resided on a separate, sealed circuit and was still maintained by Company Executives logging in remotely. The reason now was clear.
Company Executives had courage and intelligence. Anyone aspiring to those ranks needed to show they had sufficient of both. All these years, The Company had been waiting for employees to prove themselves worthy of promotion by passing a test they’d increasingly pushed into view – the blurred areas. They wanted the employees to break the programming!
