Beyond Asimios: Book One

by Martin Fossum

  She fell in love.

  During a semester of summer school at Oxford, she had left her college dinner club alone one evening to take in the sunset. With a glass of wine in hand, she made her way to the river where she promptly encountered an exhausted young biologist waist-deep in the slowly moving water. He had been taking core samples of the riverbed and had managed to get himself stuck in the muck. He was handsome and had playful eyes. He couldn’t move, he told her frankly. He needed help.

  She debated whether to return to the club to notify the porter…or to simply leave the poor sod to his own fate. Instead, she tipped the bottom of her glass to the sky, found what she thought was a sturdy stick, and extended the limb for him to take hold of. The stick broke, and in she went.

  Michael was the young man stuck in the muck: a German national with a lust and passion for life that Nava was unaccustomed to, and he took Nava home that night to his cottage. The place was rustic—cold, dark and damp—but he lit a fire and the place warmed up quickly. He made dinner while they waited for their clothes to dry, and everything fell into place. They spent that summer together. Inseparable. He introduced her to his friends and she experienced for the first time in her life what it meant to be among people who didn’t care what clothes she wore or what she looked like. They weren’t interested in where she came from, but rather what she thought about and what she believed in. These friends of Michael’s had earned their way into Oxford through exam scores and hard work…not through some rich uncle or high-ranking parents in the transnats. These were dangerous people, she was glad to discover; people who drank in dark subterranean pubs and plotted the downfall of governments. These were people who listened to one another and who spoke with candor and openness. They cared little for outside opinion and even less for those who judged them by it. They argued openly, overturning tables and breaking plates when necessary…and they invested in one another an unwavering loyalty and love. When Michael finished his coursework and was to return to Berlin, Nava followed, and there began the arc of her new life.

  As the U-Bahn canted and sped and shook, and as glowing crimson fingernails traced mysterious pictures in the air, Nava wondered what would come of them all? So much work had been done to mobilize a movement. So much sacrifice had been made. She thought of Lyv again, and of her dear friend Helene and how devastating it was for a mother to give up her child. She was a mother now, she thought. A mother? Yes! So strange and so bewildering. How happy this would make her own mother, Esther, to know that she now had a grandchild. She would know soon enough, thought Nava. There were things to settle up first, though. She would talk to Esther soon. Her father, however, was a different matter.

  She hadn’t spoken with her father for over a decade, and there was scarcely a chance she would any time soon. He had abandoned her long ago, she argued. He had given up on her, and she accepted this without protest. He was part of the larger problem, she thought. He was part of an apex organization that specialized in economic exploitation, and he participated in this corrupt corporate ethos without compunction. As far back as she could recall Austin Halpern had encouraged her to take her place among the social elites. He had hoped that one day she would find a position at ESCOM and begin a deliberate ascent—instead, he got a lazy deadbeat. He had groomed his daughter to follow in her father’s footsteps—in the end, he got a low-life and a thug.

  As far as Nava was concerned, she no longer had a father.

  The glowing fingernails and the anise perfume had been long gone by the time the train pulled up at Haselhorst station. Those heading out to Spandau at this time were drunk and dissociated and as Tomas, Nava and Michael stepped off the train they made quick eye contact to affirm they were still together.

  Someone shouted!

  There was a commotion near by, and a body dropped to the station floor. A pair of ceiling pods lowered and trained stun weapons at the skirmish.

  —ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG! BLEIB WO SIE SIND!

  A group of addicts and jogs were going at it. Fists were thrown and steel flashed. When they heard the warning they dispersed, one fellow helping the other to get to his feet, and all rushed toward the exit.

  Nava and Michael and Tomas joined and kept a good distance from the melee. They found a set of steps and hurried upward and out of the station.

  Once they were above ground and on the sidewalk they all took a breath and began to relax. Tomas led the way and they marched quietly and in single file, avoiding sharp street lights when they could, like a band of smugglers wending their way through the Khyber pass.

  They made a number of turns, then Tomas brought them to a small center where a couple of shop lights cut through the darkness. Tomas told Nava and Michael to wait while he entered one of the shops. A short while later he emerged with a sausage and bun wrapped in wax paper. He took a bite and then pulled a bottle of beer from his pocket.

  —They have excellent wurst here, Tomas said as he stood to take a few bites of his food. Sausage with curry mustard, he said. It doesn’t get any more genuine German than this.

  The three of them stood off of the sidewalk under an awning. It was getting colder and the giant ESCOM satellite was casting shorter shadows as it neared its zenith.

  —It’s not far from here, Tomas said.

  —What was the book you were reading in the train? Nava said. Is its something you could share?

  Tomas shook his head and pulled off the top of the bottle of beer and took a long swig.

  —I don’t think you’d want to read it. It’s an old twenty-first century author by the name of Doctorow. He was an activist, but his ideas on protest and resistance were poorly considered. He believed that tech would lead to social salvation…that tech would be the means by which people could defend against corporatized governing class. But his argument relied on an educated bourgeois that would lead the fight, which was naïve. He couldn’t see that no-tech would be the only way forward and the means for lasting liberation.

  When Tomas was done with his food, he balled up the food wrapper and threw it in a waste can. Then he lead them down a dark alley and then down another street that ended with a tall brick building with a large sign that hung above the dark entry. In the weak light these words stood out: Lyceum - Buchhändler.

  —A bookstore? Nava said.

  Tomas brought his finger to his lips.

  Tomas led them to the side of the building where a small entry was tucked into a brick wall. He paused and looked around and then laid down three knocks on the heavy door. A short time later a panel slid open and a rectangle of black appeared.

  —Faustus, whispered Tomas.

  —Ah! was heard a voice…

  The rectangle collapsed and the sounds of a steel bar moving left to right on the other side of the door could be heard. Then the door creaked open and the three of them slid into the musty darkness. When they were inside, the door was shut and a weak light came on above them. A short, stout bespectacled man in a black apron with a beard and an expert grimace shuffled past and motioned for them to follow. On either side of the narrow aisle were shelves of books, hundreds and thousands of books organized, in the dim light, in unknown order covering indeterminable topics. And they wound in and out of these shelves till they came to a door. When the man opened the door voices could be heard. At the bottom of the stairs came a warm light and the sound of revolution…

  9

  ESCOM Chief of Security, Austin Halpern, reviewed his intel brief and everything seemed in order. The skimmers had touched down at ESCOM headquarters and the remaining transnational delegations were making their way to the assembly hall. Halpern stood inside the large chamber, along with President Carerra, Carerra’s assistant, Whitney (her hair a helmet of icy mercury), Vice President, Isabelle Miller, and several other ESCOM representatives, while they awaited the arrival of their guests.

  The doors opened. The Excelsior Capital delegation entered the room.

  President Gretchen Stanhope was instantly recogn
izable. She was a legend: a self-made woman with none of the upper-class pedigree of her ExCap predecessors; a woman who had taken the reigns of one of the most powerful companies in history and doubled its earnings and influence. She was graceful and self-assured and notorious for her candor, something that terrified both her adversaries and her allies. Her hair was short and blonde and it framed her face in the shape of a heart. She wore a golden jacket with a collar that was pulled tight to her ears, and she glittered like a star, for indeed she stood at the center of a solar system. Once she spied Carerra, she paused, as did her orbiting planets. She smiled, acknowledged the ESCOM president with a gesture, and approached.

  —Here we go, old chap, Carerra said to Halpern as he dusted off the security chief’s shoulder. Look sharp. This is your hour.

  Carerra took Stanhope’s hand. She winced.

  —Thank you for coming, Carerra said. Welcome to ESCOM.

  —I detest these events, Stanhope said. They’re so inconvenient.

  —Well, everyone is happy that you’ve come.

  —It’s publicity, my dear boy, she said. Purely publicity.

  —I know what you mean, he said. But we’re pleased to see you, nonetheless.

  After Stanhope slipped away to join her team, the arrival of the Transglobal AG delegation was announced. Their buoyant parade pushed into the room led by their giant leader, Kaspar Salazar, on the hunt for Carerra, no doubt. When he caught sight of the ESCOM president, Salazar galloped straight up, squared with his counterpart, and extended his arms like two ship booms. His smile flashed like a set of bright piano keys, and he enfolded the ESCOM president in his embrace. Salazar squeezed; Carrera gasped. A pair of nervous ESCOM special agents moved in, but Carerra waved them off.

  —Good god, you are exceptional, Salazar said as he stepped back. I envy you, my friend. Every time I see you, you improve. You must be twice my age, and you look like you could be my younger brother.

  —You look as healthy as ever, dear Kaspar, Carerra said. Don’t pretend otherwise.

  —I may be a fool, but I resist these life-extension procedures. They terrify me.

  —Dear friend, Carerra said, you flatter me. You do know that these protocols are completely safe. It’s never too late, they say, to thrive.

  —It is never too late to thrive, I agree, Salazar said. And that’s why I try to thrive every moment that God keeps me alive. But enough talk of youth. We must think as elders today. There are serious matters to discuss. We need to speak freely and be heard.

  —Dear, Kaspar, Carerra said, holding the tall man’s large hands to his heart. You are my guest here. My house is yours. If there is one thing we share, it is trust.

  And Kaspar paused for a moment. A cold expression crossed his formerly cheerful face. Turning away, Salazar extended a greeting to Isabelle and then to Austin Halpern, who stood beside to the vice president.

  —Chief of Security, Halpern, sir, Halpern said. I met you a long time ago at a conference in Zurich. I doubt you remember me.

  Salazar’s shoulders expanded like a tent, and Halpern stood for a moment in his shadow.

  —I remember you, Salazar said, bending down to peer at Halpern. I never forget someone with intelligence and ambition. Welcome back to Earth. Is it you who shall address the assembly today? I’m eager to hear what you have to say.

  —I’m honored, Halpern said.

  —Remember, Salazar said, we may play a good poker hand, but in the end we’re all just children. Children of God, is what we are!

  Salazar moved to join his entourage, the Transglobal president rolling with laughter as he swatted the backs of his fellow delegates.

  —That’s two out of three, Carerra said over to Miller and Halpern. The Axiom Lotus delegation should be here any minute.

  —They’re outside the door, Halpern said after a quick review of his VI.

  —This should be interesting, Miller said. I’ve always thought highly of AIs, but to have one running one of the companies seems a bit unconventional.

  —Times are not as they were, Isabelle, Carerra said. We must be open to change.

  —What’s your take on this, Mr. Halpern? Miller asked. What’s your opinion of the great Chairman Khan?

  —I reserve judgment, Halpern said. We’ve settled Mars and punched our ships through to other parts of the universe. Nothing is new to me anymore.

  The assembly hall doors opened for the Axiom Lotus delegation. A squad of muscular guards led the group, their head-mounted scanners bobbing and sweeping the area for threats. Halpern didn’t like this—bringing proprietary security through ESCOM HQ—but Axiom Lotus made it a condition, that if they were attended the conference, they would be permitted to do so on their own terms. After the guards came a cluster of handlers and diplomats, the professional class of international negotiators and ambassadors. Finally, in the middle of the group appeared what must be the Khan, clothed head to foot in an immobile, dark cloak. The delegation parted, and the veiled apparition glided across the floor and came to a stop in front of Carerra. A gloved hand emerged from the cloak. Carerra took the hand and bowed.

  —Chairman Khan is grateful for your hospitality, one of the handlers said, stepping forward. You would please understand that the Chairman will not speak at this time. When you introduce Chairman Khan to the assembly, only then will the Chairman speak.

  —Tell Chairman Khan that we are grateful for his presence today, Carerra said. I would be honored if he’ll speak to the assembly after I give my opening remarks.

  —Thank you, said the spokesman with a bow.

  Chairman Khan then withdrew and floated off with the rest of the Axiom Lotus delegation to their section of the room. While the delegations were getting settled, each in their section of the wide arc of tables and seats that surrounded the large room, Halpern excused himself and drew up a link with his assistant, Ernesto Lopez-Larkin.

  —Larkin, you there?

  A short pause.

  —Yes, sir!

  —Larkin. Where are you?

  —Um…I’m at our agreed location, sir.

  —Where? Your office? At home?

  —Yes, sir.

  —The conference is starting. Have you taken care of everything?

  —Yes, sir.

  —Did you pick up my laundry and set up my wave therapy appointments for my back? And I’d like a bottle of wine ready in my room when I return. And none of that grape swill you gulp down by the liter. Some decent stuff. Do your research and surprise me. And snacks. I want snacks there, too: doughy fresh bread, and some olives and sticky, smelly cheese. I’ve been imprisoned on a god-damned moon for ten years, Larkin. I’d like something better than the crap that comes from Mars in a can.

  —Yes, sir.

  —Oh, and Larkin.

  —Yes, sir.

  —Stay close, OK. I want to be able to reach you if I need to.

  —Yes, sir.

  —Who was that?

  Lopez-Larkin waved away the link and made sure it was dead before he addressed Keiko, the woman unzipping his pants, her hand snaking into the opening at his crotch. He reached over and picked up his gin and tonic and then leaned back into the soft couch.

  —Boss just checking in on me, Lopez-Larkin said. Wants to touch base before he goes into the meeting with the world presidents.

  —I can’t believe you’ve actually met President Carerra, Keiko said, her tongue resting lightly on her upper lip; her eyes velvet pools of desire.

  Over the last few months, Keiko had pretty much faded from the picture until rumor spread that Lopez-Larkin had a new gig as second fiddle to ESCOM’s chief of security. Keiko’s interest resurged, and her curiosity about his career and her appetite for carnal affections had become insatiable, to his delight.

  —Should I make it quick? Keiko said, looking up from between his legs. I don’t want to interrupt if you have something important to do.

  —No, no, Lopez-Larkin said. Take your time. I spent good money on this
room. Austin can always call me, if he needs me.

  —Can we play the president’s game again? Keiko said as she fished in his pants. I really like to play the president’s game.

  —Yes, Keiko, I like that game, too

  When the delegations were settled, Carerra stepped to the speaker’s disk. It rose and swung gently into the middle of the floor. The ESCOM president stood erect, his white ostrich-skin Sherwani jacket shining brilliantly under the cool light. He coughed lightly into the round of his fist and then began to speak:

  —Ladies, gentlemen, delegates and citizens, he called out, welcome to ESCOM headquarters and the great city of Seattle, where science, technology, and innovation have shown us the path toward prosperity and wealth. It is with open hearts that we welcome you here today.

  Muffled applause…

  —The last time we held such a high-level meeting, over seventy years ago, I was a young operations executive at Hermes. But I’ll never forget that experience, of being at the center of something big. That legendary conference was called to address a series of challenges that faced our great companies. Acts of terrorism were on the rise, and they were threatening the free flow of capital and goods. Competition for natural resources, due to protectionism and poor resource management, was leading to price volatility and inflation. We were stuck. We were on the verge of economic catastrophe, and we were aware that if we didn’t get together and do something about it, we might fall backwards and into an economic contraction that could take decades to overcome.

  A cough filled the silence. Halpern shifted in his seat.