Excolopolis_Poles of Enforcement

by Jack L. Marsch

  Although there were many who coldly focused on building their careers, something was different in both Karen's and Natalie's cases. Throughout her life Karen had sometimes felt that she didn't fit in and it wasn't a good feeling. During her career she had never accepted solutions that could only be realized at the expense of others. Neither had she accepted solutions with irreversible consequences for the environment. There had been more than a few cases when she had had to fight hard with higher powers to prove that what they were planning was going to seriously contribute to the Planet's ultimate destruction.

  Her reasoning was only successful at those times when, at the price of many sleepless nights, she was able to offer the board of directors an alternative model with the same or better financial gain. Karen would weave her ideas with a huge force of personality that eventually helped her achieve her goals. Management paid attention to her and her ideas, and her alternative plans were accepted. As it later became evident that her ideas worked, Karen Colella was accorded more and more respect across the professional world. Not many had the kudos and respect to be able to tell their bosses to piss off if the need arose. She was listened to, and they all knew they had a good deal in her.

  “Hi Natalie. Hi Frank!,” she greeted them as they reached her. “You're just on time! Come with me! I'll take you into the office,” she said, standing up. She lead the guests down the long hall and into Steersman's office. Karen stepped up to the iris scanner, the door swept open and the three stepped across the threshold of the two worlds.

  “You know what to do. As usual, the camera has to be placed in the permitted position only. Filming will start at Mr Steersman's signal, and all other communication devices must be switched off,” Karen listed the rules, methodical as always.

  Both visitors nodded in reply, though they barely heard a word; their thoughts wandered wide and far, with both journalist and cameraman struggling to follow them.

  The sound of their steps on the granite floor was lost in the vast space, possibly muffled by the breathtaking structural tapestries that coated the walls. The walls reached up into a darkness that seemed interminable. Soft and monotonous, an alien buzz add to the sense of timelessness. Steersman was waiting for them in one corner of the hall, surrounded by a sofa complex that had been created by an imaginative designer. This colossus of industrial art spread out, conquering most of the available space. Their host sat in his usual place, holding a tiny gadget that, from time to time, shot a ray of pale lilac light from between his fingers.

  Steersman didn't rise. He watched as they approached, with a frugal smile. As they drew nearer he greeted them serenely, “Natalie, Frank … please do sit.” He waved his hand invitingly, showing them to their places.

  Natalie and Frank seated themselves as usual, the choreography of the interview not having changed since the very first meeting. The reporter sat opposite Steersman about three steps from him; the cameraman quietly working next to her, preparing the camera equipment for the interview, which, as usual, would last for exactly quarter of an hour.

  “Thank you Mr Steersman for allowing us some of your valuable time today,” said Natalie with a smile. With her greeting, all fell into place. Frank mumbled a barely audible greeting to Steersman, while he set up the equipment.

  Natalie Garner's life had changed significantly since she had been given the opportunity to report on the Excolopolis project. As a result, it had became easier in many ways and, at the same time, more difficult. One thing she knew for sure was that she enjoyed her job immensely. She knew that no one gave a shit about her emotional outbursts anymore. For Sean Steersman this was just business, an investment in someone because it simply paid off.

  “I see that, as usual, you haven't been wasting any time, Sean. There have been some crazy changes happening incredibly quickly.” Natalie began her journalists patter. Her voice was a mixture of charm and professionalism colored slightly by the purring resonance of a high class prostitute. That was why she was so damn famous!

  Unlike his assistant Karen, Natalie never dwelled on Sean Steersman's personality. She took people's characters and accepted them as they were. Although she often didn't know how to deal with his contradictory nature, she accepted it and moved on. Still, she was always surprised to discover how easy going Steersman was, and at the same time he seemed distant. Why would a man live a somewhat whimsical and ascetic existence when he had built the coolest, most advanced and most creative city the world had ever known.

  In addition, rather contrary to his conservative attitude, he allowed casinos to thrive in Excolopolis.

  “Yes! Sometimes I find it hard to follow myself,” Steersman answered casually.

  “Will we be able to go aboard the ship when the lakes have been completed?” asked Natalie.

  “Sure. We can plan our next meeting out on the water, if it suits you,” he replied.

  “Great, it'd suit us just fine,” Natalie answered enthusiastically. “Will the lakes be salt water or fresh water?”

  “What would you like them to be?” Steersman countered.

  “Fresh!” the reporter replied.

  “Okay, deal. Fresh water it is,” said Steersman.

  Natalie paused, a flicker of doubt on her face: fresh water lakes because she felt like it?

  “Well Sean, shall we begin the interview?” She bit her lower lip and looked down at her questions.

  “Of course,” he answered.

  “OK, here we go!” The reporter sat up straight, looked at Frank to confirm he was ready to go, then adjusted her position, breathed in and focused on her subject.

  “Mr Steersman, the world is beginning to acknowledge your presence …,” she started slowly, “how can I put it … at all levels of influence,” she continued in a confident voice. “You have managed to convince almost all of the most significant research and development organizations in the field of science that it's worth them moving their activities into Excolopolis, and by convincing them to do so you, your methods and goals have became a target for attack from many leading industrial entities and even more so from political circles. Considering this, how can you overcome these attacks and how can you explain this unprecedented gathering of global companies?”

  “I have never tried to over-complicate my responses to any of the accusations leveled against me. I have no deleterious intentions, yet I also refuse to force people to my way of thinking, or flaunt my methods under the noses of others. All I can do is repeat that my only goal is to assist in creating a more viable, a more sustainable world, without giving up human technology and innovation.”

  “A more sustainable world … I see,” Natalie repeated. “Would you explain how Excolopolis will contribute to making our world … our environment more viable?”

  “All that is currently happening here in Excolopolis is just the first step,” said Steersman. “By moving all research centers into one area we have optimized their activities in two fields: on the one hand, supply chains for the laboratories has improved, which is not by any means negligible from a logistical point of view, and on the other hand, the harmful emissions that laboratories produce, hazardous wastes, management of by-products and so on, are being undertaken with a new generation of neutralization processing technology that has only recently become available,” Steersman continued to outline further. “The surrounding environment of each laboratory has already undergone a significant measurable change. The global impact, however, is a slower process to measure, but soon the first visible signs of change will be apparent … the process of change has already started.”

  “I am glad that you mentioned the neutralization plant as it is one of the aspects of Excolopolis that has most come under fire in professional circles. How does it work? Are by-products or waste materials put in at one end and at the other end we get clear water and air?”

  Steersman replied in his cool monotone, “If we wish to simplify things then, indirectly, yes. Of course, this process is far more complicated than
just putting material in at one end, and producing water and clean air. Processing is done at a molecular level, in an accelerated environment.”

  “Mr Steersman, you are a businessman and the founder of the city, but you are not a scientist or engineer. Who have you entrusted with the construction of the site, and which company developed the technology to make it possible? Can you tell us?”

  “Well, I do have some understanding of the science behind the technology,” said Steersman, smiling. He still thought it would be too soon to give any of the long awaited details of specialized developments, as these had only been speculated about by media and industry alike. “I hope you realize it's no secret that the technology and systems here are strictly under wraps. I really don't care if some interest groups find it intriguing. I think that, for too long, we have allowed our environment to be continuously polluted for the sake of a small majority with a financial interest in the keeping the status quo!” Steersman leaned forward. “I really don't care who considers their own twisted image of what they are doing to be truth, a truth to be protected at any cost. What matters to me are actions, and what those actions result in!” Steersman paused, no longer quite so relaxed. A hard note had entered his voice. “If you like, we could say that I have an image and a goal that I wish to protect as well.” He sat back again and continued in his usual casual drawl. “But … when opposite interests clash, it generally becomes clear, relatively quickly, whose motives are the strongest.”

  There was a short silence.

  “Wow!” Natalie broke the silence. “It seems that you are well prepared to do battle.”

  “Those who feel that it is their right to do anything, without thought for the consequences of their actions, will eventually reap that which they have sown,” said Steersman coldly.

  “Could you be more specific?” Natalie asked, feeling shivers down her spine.

  “Do you know what the worst thing that can happen to those who think they are untouchable, who feel that they stand above what is right?”

  Natalie shook her head slightly.

  Steersman continued softly, “When the ground slowly slips away from beneath them, and there is absolutely nothing they can do about it except stand and watch it happening.”

  “But how …?” Natalie began to ask.

  Steersman cut gently in, “Everything in its own place and time, Natalie.”

  “Thank you, Mr Steersman. It seems that this time we leave with more questions than we started with. It is something that we are becoming accustomed too…”

  *

  Natalie Garner's interviews always got high ratings. And again, as usual she made sure that she asked questions guaranteed to increase the numbers, though there was no need to ask them, really. She didn't need any of the seedy tabloid questions that might have uncovered the dirt on Steersman's private life. In his case the world could wonder in vain about the life of someone capable of slamming both multitrillion dollar industries and the egos of the self-absorbed mega billionaires, of whom by now, everyone had had enough. Who did they think they were?

  This time the audience got something much better.

  “That's never happened before!” said Natalie, turning to Frank as the elevator descended swiftly.

  “Yeah, it was kinda dark. Freaky how he presented himself.” Frank shook his head slowly.

  “I'll be able to get enough out of this to start the next industrial or technological revolution! Or whatever. I couldn't care less which.” She was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

  The process

  After the press team had left, Steersman retired to one of the furthest corners of his vast portico of an office. He knew that he'd let the cat out of the bag. From now on there would be no way back. He was standing naked on the battlefield; naked but ready. Steersman never for an instant considered defeat. On the contrary! He was ready and able to cause such a shitstorm for those in his way, that they'd be choking on their breakfasts for years to come.

  Steersman brought to life a hidden device that was standing in a recess nearby. An electronic voice broke the silence and a dimly glowing screen slid smoothly from the device. Steersman began to draw on the surface with military precision. Something moved behind him. In the dim half-light it was not clearly visible, but something came to life and began to move clumsily, very slowly making its way across the hall.

  Steersman stood in front of the console writing lines on the surface of the screen, sentences in an alien script that flowed across the monitor. The screen was not the usual touch-screen type. Grooves formed on its surface as he wrote, visibly etched into it. As he wrote, seemingly nothing of significance happened. The creatures, zombie-like, moved slowly to stand behind him. There were perhaps four or five of them, shaped like nothing that had ever been seen before. They were like a patchwork of disparate parts, grafted together into strange animal shaped machines.

  Steersman finished what he was doing and turned, drawing closer to the shadows in the dark. He watched them in silence, calmly observing them as they worked. They were working on spheres, lifting the massive steel-like globes and fitting them into the sockets hanging above.

  Each machine crackled and groaned under the immense weight.

  Although they were rude, simplistic devices, without any sophistication of movement they were strong and incredibly durable. Each socket terminal accepted its sphere and closed around it like a socket clamp leaving only the bottom half of the sphere visible.

  Each sphere began to spin in its socket, and veins of electricity began to shoot and pulse around the thick tentacle-like sockets. After some time, the spinning became unbelievably fast, and bolts of electric current reached the ground. Machines standing under the device became more clearly outlined, their forms still indescribably strange.

  The office walls had just begun to moan under the pressure of vibrations caused by the rotation, when it suddenly stopped and the room went deathly still. From the ceiling a low creaking emerged. At the same moment the core of each sphere lit up, as if it were just about to explode. The light shone through the solid metal layers that made up the walls of the spheres, and then through the lamellas on the sides, increasing in intensity. Silence and the intense glow filled the vast space, replacing the noise and vibration of a few moments earlier.

  As the light began to weaken, it was noticeable that the rotation had centered within the core of each sphere. An orange liquid bulb rotated inside them and the lamellas began to close.

  A machine took one of the spheres out of its socket and moved the now transformed object across the room. The sphere had undergone a metamorphosis, and gone now was the creaking and groaning as the machines carried each sphere. Steersman ordered the devices back to their original positions. A mute silence descended on the once again dimly lit office.

  Karen

  It might have been 4:00am when Karen woke suddenly, startled. The air was still. She hadn't been woken by anything more than the whining buzz of something that had flown into her bedroom and wouldn't let her sleep. It was summer and she didn't like to spend her evenings in artificially cooled spaces. Instead she loved to feel the natural climate of each season, so she always slept with her windows open. She loved to fall asleep while watching the breeze gently catching curtains that colorfully filtered the hues of the sky. She sat up in bed and for some moments gazed around the room, looking for the culprit, but she didn't find it. She walked downstairs, bare foot, and into the kitchen, crossing the gentle give of the natural wooden floor, the soft warmth of the living room's thick carpet, and finally the cool rigidity of stone tiles. Karen found joy in everything natural. She opened huge doors and the sharp fridge light attacked her vision. She drank a few sips of vegetable juice, prepared the day before, and as she couldn't go back to sleep, she thought that she may as well switch the TV on. Perhaps the TV vibrations would chase away the winged intruder. The S.P.A.N channel flashed up on the screen. Usually this was the channel to watch for the latest news from around the w
orld, but lately they seemed preoccupied by the events in Excolopolis. A special broadcast was on. Karen quickly woke up at the sound of Natalie Garner's voice. As usual, the interview had been cut and edited into a sensational report, spiced up with theories and assumptions. It turned out to be a peach of a report.

  “Shhhiiiittt!” Karen exclaimed slowly.

  She had never fully understood Steersman, but after this report she had no idea what to expect next. She could easily identify with Steersman's sense of justice and could accept his ethos, as she felt those with any sense of judgment could, but having a sense of justice was quite different to confronting special interest groups with unlimited power at their fingertips. Even Sean Steersman could do little against them. Against groups of that scale, his business had no chance.

  *

  Over the following few days Karen spent her time organizing meetings for her boss with the directors of corporations and companies based in Excolopolis. Sean Steersman put on his nice face, visited each one and gave them all the proverbial 'chill pill'. The artificial storm lasted for about a week, with the usual obligatory feedback from the herd. With time however the furor calmed, but outside Excolopolis there were some whose concerns were not assuaged.