by H. R. Moore
‘However,’ he said forcefully, a tension creeping into the atmosphere, ‘it would be short-sighted of us, and indeed, incorrect, to pretend we live in a society with a system that is perfect.’ Silence filled the room, the crowd surprised at this sudden change of tack.
‘We cap the pay of those who run our companies, and our country. We take all but a modest sum from a person when they die, reducing the desire for many to work hard, and meaning talent is wasted. We penalise those who come from any sort of privilege, without reason, and yet we still haven’t made the playing field level. We cap the number of hours many people can work, and therefore how much they can earn...’ He paused, surveying the uncertain faces before him.
‘Please don’t mistake my meaning. The motivation behind our structure is noble; to give everyone an opportunity to work, in a world where there is not enough work to go around. However, in practice, this has created a new kind of two-tier society. There are those who can break through the working hours restriction, and those who cannot. And those who have parents, or family, in occupations that do not have an hours cap; managers, engineers, creatives and such like, are, of course, in a position of great advantage over those who do not.’ Guy paused to survey the crowd, most of whom hailed from backgrounds containing these kinds of privilege.
‘Those who do are able to learn from their parents, or relatives. They are able to pick up knowledge and skills throughout their childhood and adolescence, have access to others in those professions, and ultimately, obtain an unfair advantage over those who do not have these influences in their youth.’ He stopped for a moment, the faces now shocked, Guy inwardly delighted by his newly controversial self.
‘This can be considered unfair, or otherwise, because it is human nature in action; survival of the fittest once again rearing its, some would say, ugly head. In turn, those who wish to start a business, to work their way out of their situation, need investment and help, and they are limited as to where they can turn. Once again, those with contacts are most likely to succeed. This stifles our economy and puts our precarious position as a global frontrunner in jeopardy, which is why, I, tonight, take great pleasure in welcoming you all to this new facility,’ he said, to hopeful applause, the audience happy to be moving back to more comfortable territory.
‘The point of an initiative like this,’ he said, gesturing around, ‘is to find those founders with great ideas and buckets of get up and go, but who may not otherwise have a route to make their idea a reality. We will not discriminate based on family background or pre-existing tacit knowledge. And we will not invest, within this facility, in anyone with whom we have personal connections. Investments will be fair and transparent, and will not be full of arduous conditions. We will not seek to take majority shares, or even tie the owners into partnering exclusively with Cybax.’ The audience murmured in surprise as Guy paused for dramatic effect.
‘This is a purely charitable endeavour, and I would encourage anyone with an idea, regardless of how well formed, how far through the process, and certainly regardless of background, to drop in and have a chat with one of our advisors. They’re here to help, and have the authority to make investment decisions quickly. We want this to become a hive of activity as soon as possible, and most importantly, we want to help discover the technologies of the future, that will keep our economy powering ahead,’ he concluded, to more applause.
‘So, I take great pleasure in opening this brilliant new facility. I would like to thank all of those who have worked tirelessly to make it happen, and happily, now hand over to Peter Garcia, who will introduce the first companies to receive our money and our support.’ The crowd rose to their feet in relief, applauding as Guy turned away from the stand. But before he’d fully departed, he hesitated, the clapping stuttering as they wondered what he would do now.
Guy thought for a moment before turning slowly back towards the crowd. ‘One final point,’ he said, smiling at the audience’s confusion. ‘Please do not misconstrue my comments tonight as overly critical of our system. I have benefitted from it, and am passionate about furthering automation to both improve our quality of life and preserve our limited natural resources. I merely talk from a position of continuous improvement, which can sometimes feel...uncomfortable. As our company motto says: On, and better; that is my only goal. Thank you.’
* * * * *
Guy came down from the stage as Peter took the floor, feeling as though he’d been in a parallel universe for the last few minutes; he’d never normally have gone that far. The smiling face of his friend and mentee, Thomas Watson, greeted him as he reached the bottom of the steps, Thomas’ tall, athletic frame and mop of blonde hair reassuring in their familiarity.
‘Crikey,’ said Thomas, shaking Guy’s hand and raising his eyebrows, a broad smile across his face, ‘sailing a bit close to the wind politically, aren’t we?’ He laughed. ‘Are you going to run for prime minister next?’
‘God, no!’ Guy replied, clapping Thomas on the arm. ‘I’m not sure my disposition is suited to work that serious. But, last time I checked, we still have freedom of speech, and I stand by what I said; we don’t live in a perfect world and we shouldn’t pretend that we do.’
Thomas held up his hands. ‘I agree with everything you said,’ he laughed, ‘and you’re already the CEO of one of the biggest companies in the world, so if anyone’s going to say it, then why not you? But I heard you’re under investigation?’ he asked, concern written across his features. ‘You don’t want to goad them.’
‘I’m not goading anyone,’ said Guy, with an edge of irritation, ‘and anyway, why not?’
‘Did you hear about Richard’s business? What they did to him?’
‘Of course.’
‘They made him clear out his whole top rank, slapped him with a massive fine, and he didn’t really even do anything wrong.’
‘He was lavish with his close circle of managers; trips away, personal use of company property...’
‘...so are you,’ said Thomas, cutting him off.
‘I’m lavish with everyone,’ replied Guy, a tone of warning creeping into his voice, ‘there’s a difference. Besides,’ he said, smiling to brighten the mood, ‘I heard Richard’s top tier clear out wasn’t a bad thing for everyone.’
‘Ha,’ laughed Thomas, ‘as a matter of fact, I have had a decent promotion.’
‘No surprise there, obviously,’ said Guy. ‘What’s the new role?’
‘Deputy finance director.’
‘Christ! That is a decent promotion; congratulations! You’ll be running the place in no time! Let me get you a drink to celebrate.’ Guy steered Thomas to the bar at the back, applause covering the sounds of their movements as the audience were presented with the first cohort of businesses Guy’s new venture had invested in. ‘What can I get you? Gin and tonic?’
‘You know me so well,’ Thomas laughed.
Guy ordered two gin and tonics from the robot behind the bar, and a short, prim looking woman, who’d spotted them, approached from the back of the crowd. ‘Tina, hi,’ said Guy, handing Thomas his drink. ‘Let me introduce you to my good friend, Thomas Watson,’ he said, nodding in Thomas’ direction. ‘We’re celebrating his recent appointment as deputy finance director at Pixbot.’
‘Which isn’t public knowledge yet,’ said Thomas, bashfully.
‘Which isn’t public knowledge yet,’ repeated Guy, speaking directly to Tina, ‘so we’d appreciate your discretion until it is. Sorry, Thomas, should have checked. But anyway, let me introduce you to Tina Somerville, member of Parliament and the minister for technology.’
‘Delighted to meet you,’ said Tina, clearly about to strike up a conversation with Guy, but Guy didn’t let her get started.
‘I’m terribly sorry, but would you please excuse me,’ he said, looking distractedly over their shoulders, ‘I need to get back to hosting duties, but I’m sure you two will have a great deal to talk about. I’ll be around later, Tina, so please let’s talk
then?’
‘Of course,’ she replied, resignedly turning back to talk to Thomas.
‘Great. See you later too, Thomas,’ he said, leaving them to it and walking across the back of the crowd to a pillar on the other side of the building.
Guy had almost reached the pillar when he was intercepted by a cold presence approaching from his right. He turned to see who it was and took a deep breath when he recognised her. ‘Iva,’ said Guy, warmly. ‘I’m so glad you could come.’
‘Very kind of you to invite me,’ she said, her words like icicles behind her fake smile. Guy was about to walk away, but she placed her hand on his arm to detain him. ‘Interesting speech,’ she said. ‘Do you have political aspirations now?’
Guy laughed. ‘I’ve always been political,’ he said, lightly, although looking pointedly down at her hand, making her drop it to her side. ‘It was my main occupation when I was younger. I’ve always loved debating the imperfect world in which we live.’
‘And yet, somehow, you ended up at the top of one of the world’s biggest companies.’
‘It wasn’t half the company it is today when I first started, as you well know. I’ve grown it to what it is today. I personally put our success down to my excessive computer game habit when I was younger; my parents couldn’t get me out of my virtual world. But it does give one the most delightful sense of possibility, don’t you think?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ she said, through gritted teeth. ‘I was too busy working my way to where I am today to play computer games.’
‘Not before you were sixteen, I hope?’ replied Guy, in mock affront. ‘That would be a breach of the regulations.’
‘The regulations didn’t exist when I was sixteen,’ she sniped, ‘but I take it you’re not too dense to get my point.’
‘Iva, haven’t we been around this once before?’ he said, his tone now something near hostile. ‘It didn’t work out as you’d hoped then, and I can’t see why anything is different today. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’ve just seen someone I must say hello to. I do hope you enjoy your evening.’
Iva nodded, managing only just to keep a lid on her fury as he walked confidently away. ‘Smug bastard,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘I will bring you down.’
CHAPTER 4
‘Lulu,’ Guy beamed, finally reaching the other side of the pillar he’d been heading for, rounding it with a flourish to surprise the woman he’d spotted hiding there. ‘I’m so glad you could make it,’ he said, warmly, kissing her on both cheeks.
Lulu was flustered. She had planned to find Guy later, but hadn’t expected him to show up so publicly and so out of the blue. She was acutely aware of all the people around them. ‘Thank you for inviting me,’ she said, buying herself some time to regain her composure. ‘Interesting speech.’ She raised an eyebrow in approval.
‘You’re not the first person to have noticed,’ he said, offering her his arm. She took it and he escorted her towards the bar.
‘Oh damn,’ she said, in mock disappointment, ‘I do hate it when I lack in originality.’
‘You should,’ he joked back, ‘you’re an artist after all. What are you without originality?’
‘A fraud,’ she laughed. ‘Oh no! You’ve found me out!’
‘It’s okay, I promise not to tell anyone. It would devalue your work tremendously, and that’s not in my interests at all.’
‘You bought a piece from the exhibition?’ she asked, surprised.
‘Of course,’ he replied.
‘Which one?’
‘Which ones you mean?’ he flirted.
‘You bought more than one?’
‘There were two I couldn’t decide between, so I bought them both.’
‘You’re ridiculous,’ she said, pretending to chastise him.
‘I do try to be,’ he replied, as they reached the bar, noticing that Thomas and Tina’s conversation hadn’t lasted long. They had both moved away and he spotted Tina conversing with some of the other politicians. Guy picked up two glasses of champagne and tried to hand one to Lulu.
‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘but I hate the stuff. Is there anything else?’
‘Of course, what would you like?’
‘Just a soda water with fresh lime please.’
Guy ordered her drink before turning serious. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘I promised to introduce you to some politicians.’ The bartender handed Lulu her soda water. ‘Right this way.’ He took her by the elbow and moved her towards an intimidating group of men and women, who had congregated in a small group at the front of the hall now the presentation was over.
‘Hello,’ said Guy, enthusiastically, as they reached them. ‘I hope you’re all enjoying your evening?’ he asked, throwing a full charm offensive their way.
‘Yes, thank you, Guy,’ said a grey-haired woman in her fifties. She had short, curly hair and spiky features. She was a curious mixture of stern yet approachable; probably the most approachable of the serious looking ensemble, but, much to Lulu’s dismay, it quickly became apparent that this wasn’t who Guy wanted to introduce her to.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ replied Guy, smiling warmly as he pressed Lulu forward. ‘I’m sure you all know my friend, Lulu?’ he asked, his eyes engaging three other members of the group as he indicated towards Lulu with his hand. ‘She’s the most brilliant artist, and, of course, like all great artists, is influenced by the issues and inequalities of the day.’
There were a few raised eyebrows at this introduction. However, never one to stand on ceremony, the chancellor of the exchequer, a tall, painfully thin woman, with ludicrously long and stick-like fingers, jumped straight in. ‘Indeed, I saw your latest exhibition in St Ives,’ she started, before Guy cut in, having just looked at his smart watch.
‘I’m terribly sorry, but would you all excuse me? Something’s come up down south, so I need to get the hyperloop back ASAP. Sorry, Lulu, I’ll be in touch.’
Lulu was a little perplexed, but nodded, turning back to the minister, keen not to waste this rare opportunity. ‘You came to the exhibition?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I popped in to have a look while I was on holiday in Cornwall with my family. I’d heard a lot of the hype about you, and I’d seen your work virtually, but I must say, it’s much more striking in the flesh. Although, a little idealistic in many respects.’
‘How so?’ she asked, genuinely interested in her opinion.
‘Well, I sense a great deal of discontent with the status quo, and a depiction of a work freedom we can’t currently offer, but little in the way of suggested solutions.’
‘That’s fair,’ she replied, ‘because I don’t have all the answers; I don’t think any one person does. But I do think we need a broader conversation about how we can help people work themselves out of the situation they’re prescribed at birth.’
‘They can work themselves out; they can start their own business, or train for free to do a job with no hours cap.’
‘That’s easy to say, but not easy to do in practice. For a start, many don’t have an idea for a business, and even if they do, they probably don’t have the resources to get a business off the ground. And many people don’t want to own their own business; they don’t have the inclination or the aptitude. And it would be impossible for everyone to successfully run a business; there’s just not enough room in the economy for that many small enterprises. People want to be able to have the freedom to work more, for others. It’s as simple as that.’
‘And, as I said, it’s a wonderful, idealistic vision,’ she reiterated, in a patronising tone, ‘but if we were to lift the working hours cap, we’d have mass unemployment, with huge competition for the limited numbers of jobs on offer.’
‘Maybe we need less automation then,’ she said, earnestly.
The chancellor laughed, and a couple of the other ministers joined the conversation. ‘You want us to go backwards?’ said Tina, the minister for technology.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘
I want us to move forwards in a more human way. We have a mental health epidemic, a lack of work freedom, social isolation is rampant, and virtual personas are not helpful.’
‘She’s right about that,’ said Eric Rogers, the health minister. ‘It’s an undeniable problem.’ He was kind looking, with a round face, medium height and build, but on the chubby side, which Lulu thought strange, considering his role.
‘People are more connected now than ever before,’ said Eliza Ashton, the chancellor.
‘Yes, but the interactions aren’t real,’ said Lulu. ‘We interact with people remotely. There’s no physical interaction, no ability to help one another in the real world, no sharing a piece of cake, or petting the other person’s dog. Don’t get me wrong, the benefits of technology are too many to number, but I also think it’s naïve,’ she said, emphasising the word, ‘to believe we have no areas for improvement. And I don’t believe we can create a ground-breaking new robot to solve the problem.’
‘But with more time on their hands, you’d think people would spend more time socialising together, and creating community projects and the like,’ said Tina.
‘They are,’ replied Eric, ‘but only in certain areas. People with young children create real-life support networks for themselves, and so do motivated retired people, sports people. In fact, it’s very similar to how it’s always been. But there are real risk groups; teenagers and young adults, young professionals, the very old, those with no family. And for those people, especially young people, the virtual world can be toxic.’
‘But we’ve stamped out all the naked picture stuff that used to happen between kids, and have very sophisticated ways of picking up online bullying,’ said Tina.
‘Which is all great progress,’ said Lulu, ‘but teenage years are formative ones, where people are figuring out who they are, and often don’t have experience to guide them. They may not be sharing naked pictures as much anymore, but they’re still either included or excluded, they’re either good at playing virtual games or they’re not, they’ve either got the latest tech, or they haven’t. They either come from a family who can work as much as they like, or they don’t.’
