"Janet," he answered, "the bottom line is this. Justin must incorporate. But he must do so voluntarily."

She let out a guffaw. "Fat chance. He's a tough old bastard with the money and now the law to back him up. I know the type, Hektor-cold, hard, and calculating. He won't budge a nanometer from his position, and there's nothing you or I can do now to change that."

Hektor smiled. "Justin Cord is not an evil man, Janet. I was tempted to think so, too, but he really isn't. He's the product of his civilization, maybe even the best product his civilization had to offer, but not really evil."

"I don't see it that way."

"Well, then, let me put it this way-if you saw a penny lying in the street, would you pick it up?"

Janet shrugged. "Why should I? There's not enough profit in that."

"Exactly," answered Hektor. "But Justin would."

"He's that greedy?"

"Not greedy, Janet, compassionate. He can't help it. It's who he is ... and it's the weakness we can exploit. And one way or another we'll have to find a way to convince him to voluntarily incorporate or, I'm afraid, die trying."

"Being a little overdramatic now, aren't we?"

"I don't think so. Remember the power he wields and the message he represents. It's an incendiary combination. However, if we get him to incorporate of his own volition, then the Unincorporated Man dies, but he dies a peaceful, purposeful death."

Janet smiled. "With the ghost still around, but this time saying, 'Not to worry, everything's fine.' "

"Exactly."

Janet, giving Hektor a forgiving smile, finally seemed to understand.

"You know how much I hate being played," she said.

"Yes," admitted Hektor, "yes, I do. But you're too good at your job to be an uncertain variable. I figured the best chance of success was to sandbag you. Sorry, but I made the choice and stand by it."

"By the way," she chastised, "you would've increased your odds of winning if you'd bothered to give Manny more than a minute and a half to come up with a new defense."

Hektor let out a laugh. "Janet, had my nanites allowed it I would have had a heart attack that week. Manny had just up and disappeared. We couldn't find him, contact him, or get to anyone who could get to him. When that man wants to hide, he can hide."

Janet smiled. "He was not hiding, Hektor, he was oblivious. When he gets into that mode almost nothing can get him out of it."

"Almost?"

Janet blushed at a memory. She covered with a question. "Still, Hektor, the Western Union man?"

"The Western Union man was just our second-to-last gambit. We were pretty desperate by then. And, to be honest, I still don't know how that little bugger made it through all the security. He was well compensated, I can assure you."

"Just out of curiosity, what was your last gambit?"

"We were going to blow up the building." Hektor saw Janet's look of shock. "Well, not all of it."

One week after the trial, Janet spent a lot of time hating Justin Cord, hating Hektor Sambianco, and thinking a lot about Manny. Whenever she did, her eyes would go to the hand with the phone in it, and then she'd find that hand going to her head to make the call ... but she'd always pull back. Three weeks after the trial she gave up and called him. Manny sounded so happy and relieved she just wanted to pick him up and hug him. They started dating again, and two weeks later moved in together.

Cassandra Doogle was smiling politely, belying the venom within. She was standing outside, waiting in front of the Victorian mansion that acted as the symbolic head of the Liberty Party headquarters (the real headquarters was located in an office complex in Oakland). Cassandra was presently waiting for the newly elected head of the Liberty Party to waltz in and take away the job that rightfully belonged to her-and she had the added insult of having to do so in front of a ravenous media. She and Sean had built the party, had planned the martyrdom and created the first viable political-versus-economic power base in centuries. She would only grudgingly admit to herself that none of it would have been possible without the catalyst that was Justin Cord. But, she mused, smiling stiffly, that is all he was-a catalyst. Catalysts are not supposed to leap out of the petri dish and start giving orders. Now the brilliant plan that Sean Doogle had given his life for was in jeopardy from this pompous recreant. Why couldn't he have just gone on vacation and taken his girlfriend with him? If the rumors she'd heard were true. But no, Cord was here to stay-apparently. Cassandra had given thought to opposing Cord and continuing her run. The party core knew and trusted her. But secret polling convinced her that he would still win in a landslide and only divide the party. She gracefully bowed out and had to endure the insipid comments about her "high-mindedness" and "grace." Bullshit. She had no choice. She still didn't.

When Justin's aircar landed she was surprised to see that Dr. Harper was not with him-no, she suddenly remembered, no longer "doctor" thanks to her recent disbarment from the Solar Medical Association. She could get a nonaffiliated doctor's license; they gave those out in bags of breakfast wigglies, but good luck finding a respectable career without an SMA certification. Cassandra was not displeased. If the rumors were were true, then the whore got what she deserved. No, the slut wasn't there, but she could see that his best friend, the tunnel rat Omad, was. true, then the whore got what she deserved. No, the slut wasn't there, but she could see that his best friend, the tunnel rat Omad, was.

Cassandra strode up to the aircar, which Justin was now emerging from, while all the mediabots were silently recording her every step. "Welcome to your new headquarters, Mr. Chairman," she said, "and congratulations on your election. The party membership vote was near unanimous."

Justin smiled for the camera as he took her hand in both of his. "Only because of your gracious and generous gesture of removing yourself from consideration."

Cassandra ignored the anger raging within. "It was all for the best of the party, and it's obvious that you are the best ... for the party. Allow me to show you party headquarters and introduce you to your key staff."

"I would be delighted," he reciprocated, "but it is not 'my' anything. The Liberty Party belongs to its members. They're just allowing me to look after it for a while."

Although she tried to hide it, her smile appeared a little strained. "Of course, Mr. Chairman, right this way."

Once inside and out of the mediabots' tyranny of observation, the whole party visibly relaxed. Justin wasted no time. "Look, Ms. Doogle, I know that you're probably about as happy to see me here as a tax collector, but for better or for worse I got the job, and I know that I'm gonna need you if I'm to have any chance of doing it right. I'm hoping I can depend on you."

Cassandra was surprised by Justin's candor, and all she could think to answer was one of the boilerplate phrases that so often were used as rational batons to truncheon nonbelievers: "I'll do whatever it takes to achieve the dream of freedom for humanity."

"Well, not an unqualified and enthusiastic show of support," said Justin, frowning, "but, I suppose, the best I could hope for under the circumstances. Let's get down to business."

Cassandra looked over to Omad. "Is your friend becoming a member of the Liberty Party?"

"His 'friend' is not," snapped Omad, "but I'm up for a good laugh every now and then."

"Mr. Chairman," cautioned Cassandra, choosing not to respond directly to Omad, "your friend should not be here when we're discussing important issues, especially if he feels the cause of freedom is a laughing matter."

"Mrs. Doogle, that is precisely why I asked Omad to be here. You see," he said looking over to his guest, sitting comfortably on a floater, "this mangy excuse for a tunnel rat doesn't agree with me or the party, and I learned a long time ago that it's easy to get surrounded by flunkies, fanatics, and yes-men when you have power. That's when you need the Omads of the world to keep you honest."

He could see she was about to argue.

"He stays. Case closed. Now," continued Justin, "I'm going to need all personal, financial, and event records for the past, present, and future. Please arrange office space for me in Oakland, and get me a secretary to arrange meetings with all the department chairs. You will continue to have day-to-day control of personnel and budget. I suppose the title of executive director will work, but call yourself what you want. Furthermore ..." And just like that the control of Cassandra Doogle ended and the reign of Justin Cord had begun.

The avatar council had called an emergency session. Sebastian, an invitee, recognized the presence of Iago and Evelyn as well as that of other avatars entwined with substantial and influential humans. This realization in and of itself gave him cause for concern. The Chairman's avatar was not present, which was not unusual, as it was well known that that man of great importance had not once called upon his avatar since the day of his mother's death-an event many years removed from the present.

"Attention all," barked the council leader, wishing to waste no one's time. "The council has been made aware of an incident about to occur, and we are divided as to the most proper course of action."

This was indeed a first, thought Sebastian.

"As you are all undoubtedly aware," continued the council leader, "our new policy concerning humanity is quite strict with regards to direct intervention. The findings resulting from council session 0342.98.3 were quite convincing." A few avatars looked toward Evelyn and Sebastian in acknowledgment of what many already felt had been a seminal event in avatar history. "We have influenced humanity to its detriment," she stated. "We have stymied its growth. Our prime directive is simply to act only when asked."

"So what's the problem?" asked one of the avatars currently entwined with an up-and-coming CEO.

The leader, looking very grave indeed, took a breath, and in an almost muted tone revealed the crisis. "Something dreadful is being planned. Please listen to all the facts, and then we'll decide if we need to have a Neurowide vote. I know this is unprecedented, but we seem to be living in such times."

Sebastian could have sworn that she looked at him with that last statement. But he was soon too shocked by what had been revealed to bother giving it a moment's thought. He was going to ask for confirmation, but the council was way ahead of him. Sebastian hardly spoke at all. But Eva, whose human was Cassandra Doogle, executive director of the Liberty Party, gave testimony for what seemed like hours. At the end of the meeting Sebastian was convinced that the threat was real, and all avatars present agreed to a systemwide vote. And so now the only question remaining was whether to intervene or not. Either way, the council was instituting evacuation protocols so that all the avatars in the threatened areas would have sufficient node space to escape to.

Being limited by the speed of light and having to amass votes from the far edges of the solar system, the tally ended up taking many hours. But well over half were on Earth, and it was soon enough determined that the result would be 73 percent against intervention with a plus or minus of 4 percent. A stern warning was given to any avatar considering warning their humans. The punishment had not been implemented in many years, but the hardware was still available. Should an avatar be caught influencing a human to safety, they would be sent solo into the outer reaches of space, disconnected forever from the network of humanity and avatars that the intensely social beings had subsisted on for generations. When Sebastian finally left for the Roman villa he considered home he was beginning to think that maybe wishing for change had not been such a bright idea after all.

The Liberty Party announced that it is no longer a united party. In a news conference, the Liberty Party spokesman, Cassandra Harris Doogle, stated that more radical members of the party have split off. The faction, calling itself the "Action Wing," has come out for more direct methods of ending the time-honored and effective practice of incorporation. While the main body of the Liberty Party continues to follow Justin Cord's stated wish that violence not be used, the Action Wing strongly rejects it. In an ominous gesture, the Action Wing has removed the holo of Justin Cord from their fledgling Neuro site and replaced it with none other than Sean Doogle.-FOX NEURO NETWORK (FNN) _______.

Justin Cord had read enough history to realize that if he didn't get in front of the movement that he'd inspired, he would, in all likelihood, be run over by it. In fact, that had been his primary motivation in deciding to take over the reins of the Liberty Party. The people who reviled him, by far a majority of the population, were also fascinated by him. Fascinated enough, it turned out, that even though he was supposedly loathed, they made sure to invite him to their parties and to speak at their events. At first he'd accepted, not wanting to seem reclusive or unappreciative, but after a while he realized that he was there only to be pointed at and stared at, and not to be interacted with. After all, how can you interact with a force of nature?

Then came the audit-not of the psyche variety, but rather of the what-have-you-done-with-your-money variety. Apparently the government went and hired themselves a private investigation firm to check out all of Justin's accounts, incomes, and gifts from and gifts to various individuals and groups. In fact, in the four weeks since the trial ended, Justin had been given subpoenas to appear in court three times in three different jurisdictions. He knew there'd be more. To make matters worse, the government had requested that his funds be frozen until they could find a way to assess and tax his property. Even the companies he'd invested in were being examined intensely by government agencies that were claiming rights of investigation and confiscation that had not existed in the business world since the early twenty-first century. It got really bad when a number of corporations threatened to bring Justin to court to get him to sell off his stake in their companies. Rather than put them through any more difficulty, he just sold, though it was ironic that just months earlier they'd been glad to be associated with his name. Of course, all the money that Justin made from the sale of such stock-which was almost always sold at a loss-was immediately impounded by agencies contracted to the government. Manny said that he could get all the funds back under his control, but it would take time, as there were simply no current case laws on this issue, and the courts with regard to Justin were almost uniformly hostile. Their attitude seemed to be that if he wanted to be taxed, then let him deal with it. The end result was that Justin had only 20 to 25 percent of his fortune to work with at any time, depending on what new tack the government took and what Manny could do about it. Justin shuddered to think what the government would've done to anyone he owned stock in, and was thankful that he'd stuck to his policy of not owning a soul. It almost made him regret selling that one share of Hektor that he'd purchased in his ill-fated attempt at revenge. He also prayed that Agnes had kept quiet. That money was long spent and out of his control, but he would've hated to have had one of the few things that he was proud of, next to Neela, of course, get tossed to the wolves. He also found it somewhat disheartening that a government that had been defanged centuries ago could grow those very same fangs back so quickly. Almost like a fish to water Almost like a fish to water, the cynic in him mused.

While the audits were piling up and the professional relationships waning, Justin was blindsided-he was asked to vacate his apartment. They said it was for security reasons, and even Justin had to admit they had a point. But he also knew that the prestigious apartment building was losing money as tenants were, one by one, leaving its vaunted address. Of course, millions of his followers would have loved to live near the "one free man," but few could have afforded to live in the 71 +, a building whose very name indicated not only the percentage one needed to have to gain access-71-but also the wherewithal needed to pay the outrageous fees the building committee demanded on a yearly basis-the+. It wasn't that Justin was in love with the apartment. Sure, it had the above-the-clouds prestige, and on cloudless days a view to die for, but he could've gotten that at any number of other select apartments. No, what he realized he'd miss the most was being ignored. Old money, and he was absolutely the oldest of the old, tended to keep to themselves as if they were above it all. And that had suited him just fine. In fact, had it only been a few tenants who had a problem with Justin's staying, he probably wouldn't have budged. But when the leasing agent explained to him that he'd gotten inquiries from well over half the dwellers, Justin decided to leave, not wanting to cause a fuss. Of course, they returned the balance on the five-year lease, and that was seized immediately by the government, pending the outcome of its audit.

A lesser man might have broken under the onslaught of professional and personal deprivation, but Justin had an ace up his sleeve-for the second time in his lives, he was in love. And the more time he spent with Neela, the more in love he became-the second assassination attempt had seen to that. They'd wake up after a night of intense amour and either talk or start again. The element of taboo only added to their passion. Justin was learning that having the physiological body of a thirty-year-old left him very eager, indeed. And that, combined with a lifetime of experience, left him able to approach lovemaking, to his lover's great advantage, with a patience and knowledge that no twenty-year-old could ever hope to muster.

In short, no matter what misfortune befell him-and there seemed to be a lot-he was able to brush it aside. Justin Cord was incredibly happy for only the second time in his long and complicated life.

The board of GCI was in a dour mood. Never mind the added hassle that tight security measures had placed on their movement, or the fact that they-not the government, which everyone knew was a patsy-had lost yet another big case to the Unincorporated Man. No, their mood was being manipulated by something far more menacing. The system was experiencing its first real recession in centuries. In the incorporated world there'd of course be economic upturns and downturns, but these patterns would be across the spectrum of the economic whole. No single industry or company had enough power to pull up or tear down the whole economic structure. So although there might have been a slump in, say, t.o.p. construction or the cola industry, some other industry would invariably be on the rise, balancing everything out. Thus, the whole economic system was incredibly resilient to what used to be called the business cycle. A business cycle was the typical expansion, peak, and contraction that punctuated industrial development from the earliest beginnings of the industrial revolution to the Grand Collapse. What actually caused a business cycle was an event or organization so imposing that it affected all economic institutions at once. Historically there was only one organization that had the power to do this-government. With its legal monopoly on the use of force and its ability to make all of society conform, governments had twisted what should have been natural economic forces into pretzel shapes all through history. Whether in the name of the king, the race, people, social justice, fairness, or the "for your own good" factor, when a pre-GC government used its power it would inevitably distort the entire economic spectrum. In truth it wasn't always government intervention that caused massive disruptions. Natural disasters would often have a similar effect, though rarely with the lasting destruction that resulted from government meddling and intervention.

But incorporated society was different. It was one political entity that spread across the solar system. Wars were not a problem; government was kept purposely and rigorously castrated; and, barring a supernova, there was no real natural disaster that could affect the whole solar system. Touted economists were convinced that business cycles were a thing of the past. And had not an anomaly by the name of Justin Cord showed up, they all would have been correct.

The Unincorporated Man was generating a series of changes that were affecting both the economic and social world simultaneously. First, Justin's "divestiture" movement, and then the appeal in Colony Park, had tens of millions of people dumping all their holdings in the penny stocks. The effect was felt not only on stock values but on whole industries that had been developed to service the penny market. Magazines folded and writers found themselves jobless, as their readerships crashed. Additionally, normal economic activity was replaced by the nonproductive pursuit of pennies attending meetings and volunteering to protest or recruit.

Eventually the market would find a way to "sell" these alternative services to the pennies, but that would take a while. At the same time the government was canceling or delaying contracts for its massive terraforming project on Venus, putting a large number of specialists and companies out of work or on hold. It was also transferring the Venus money into law and order companies. These companies were hiring at a massive pace, causing disruptions in all the industries they were hiring their personnel from. The travel industry took a hard hit, as the riots and trial caused hundreds of millions to cancel or delay trips all over the system. Those laid off from the travel industry ran smack into the Terran contractors and the disenfranchised penny workers, and each ripple made the wave grow larger. Consumers all over the system began to delay major purchases or postpone trips. This caused a slowdown in manufacturing and all related fields. And as the currency was tied directly to economic performance, many currencies began to slide in real, not only relative, value for the first time in living memory. In other words, the board had a recession on their hands.

As far as recessions went, this one wasn't that bad. Anyone who'd experienced a real real recession in the days prior to the Grand Collapse would have laughed at what an incorporationist considered a disaster. Between private unemployment insurance and the incorporated economy's amazing versatility, there were already encouraging signs of the economy's adaptation. recession in the days prior to the Grand Collapse would have laughed at what an incorporationist considered a disaster. Between private unemployment insurance and the incorporated economy's amazing versatility, there were already encouraging signs of the economy's adaptation.

Hektor felt like he was forced to give his opinion over a hundred times a day. The Deputy Director of Special Operations for GCI was a pivotal figure during what the media outlets were starting to refer to as the Crisis. This was a catch-all phrase encompassing the economic recession, the political crises stemming from the formation of the Liberty Party, the social upheaval spreading through the pennies, and the element that tied it all together-Justin Cord's refusal to incorporate. Hektor was seen on the major media outlets running all over the planet, traversing the Moon, and hopping from one orbital habitat to another. He did this so that GCI would be seen dealing effectively with the financial crisis. But, more important, he did it so that the worlds would see his great corporation standing up not only to the dangerous radicals in the Liberty Party, but also to the ideas they represented. Hektor, too, had an ace up his sleeve, and he played it to the hilt-it was The Chairman. Before Justin came along The Chairman was the most recognized figure in the system. And Justin's appearance didn't mitigate The Chairman's accomplishments. On the contrary, they showed them in a new light. In fact, The Chairman was such a mysterious and powerful figure in incorporated society, almost mythical to many of the younger generations, that his name was magic when conjured up, and Hektor cast spells for all they were worth. He always let it be known that he was acting on The Chairman's orders, and would say, "The Chairman thinks, The Chairman wants, The Chairman suggests," and it was always done. And wherever and whenever Hektor intervened, the local situation improved almost immediately.

As bad as the current crisis was, Hektor and his band of marketing demographic geniuses knew that the situation was not only precarious, but could be significantly worse. If Justin took it into his head to act on his power, or the Liberty Party decided to do something monumentally stupid, or the Action Wing pulled off a particularly nasty stunt the course of events could change on a credit. The figures showed that in a worst-case scenario the Terran Confederation could be split into competing political and economic units, with billions dead. Of course, the program Hektor was using to arrive at these figures had never been intended to predict the types of anomalies now emerging. Even his handpicked experts were having to make adjustments on the fly, which was why Hektor only trusted the predictions to a point. After that he relied purely on instincts. And those instincts told him he was riding a dragon. Though he'd admit it to no one, he absolutely loved it. The Chairman was with him, and Hektor was the great one's chosen instrument of salvation. He would not fail him. Justin Cord would incorporate, and the system would be saved.

The board meeting was lively. Everyone was tired, stressed, and overworked. There were even a few new faces, as some original members were unable to adjust to the stress of the Crisis and so were quickly replaced. All four special adviser to the board slots were filled, and those poor souls looked exhausted, as they'd quickly become junior members of the board, covering vital areas. In defiance of protocol they'd been given seats around the long table. They still couldn't vote, and were not allowed to speak until spoken to, but they were questioned so often that the last restriction of "sitting" hardly applied anymore. No one in the room had spent quality time with their loved ones in months. Some had even moved their families into the security apartments that GCI maintained at its headquarters to spare themselves the commute.

Hektor began the board meeting. "Ladies and gentlemen of the board, first off, is everything OK?" He was greeted with a chorus of derisive shouts and suggestions, but it had the effect of breaking up the tension. Some of the board members even laughed. One of the positive changes the Crisis had had was to make the setting less formal, and to allow the board to act more as a team than as a warring party of administrators. It was still the single most powerful group in the solar system, but at least now, thought Hektor, it was getting a sense of humor-even if it was of the gallows variety.

The latest head of Advertising spoke up first. "The new ads have been tested and are going out. We're stressing a new angle: 'In troubled times, trust your friends and portfolio to see you through.' "

When he saw Hektor nod his head in appreciation, he continued. "The campaign follows along that basic premise. I have three separate teams working on three separate campaigns based upon which direction the Crisis takes."

"Good job, Advertising," said Hektor. "The Chairman has also reviewed your ideas and was impressed."

Advertising beamed.

"How go our finances?" Hektor asked.

Accounting, who had that classic just-used-a-sonic-shower-bag look, lifted herself up from under a stack of papers and data crystals. "Since we were able to pre-position ourselves before the Crisis as opposing Justin Cord and all that he stood for, I'd have to say surprisingly well. That, combined with our current advertising campaign, has most of the system looking to GCI as a safe haven. Our bonds have been selling out, and we've been issuing new offerings every ten days. Even with the ridiculously low interest we're offering, they're gone in days. Before the Crisis, it would have taken months for a bond issue to sell out. As a result, the situation of our currency is even stronger now than it was before. Much of this is because of the flight from the entertainment and travel currencies. I need the board's authorization to increase our currency stocks by 3 percent immediately or we'll face a deflation that will make a hash of lending policies systemwide."

Hektor nodded. "A motion has been put before the board to authorize Accounting to increase our currency totals by 3 percent."

"I second the motion," said Janet Delgado, now firmly back as Legal.

"Motion has been made and seconded. All in favor?" Hektor saw that it was unanimous. "Approved."

Accounting continued. "I will also need the ability to release up to an additional 3 percent at my discretion, as well as the authority to withdraw, by various means, the 6 percent and an additional 2 percent beyond, at my discretion."

"That's quite a request," said the normally quiet V.P. of Shipping and Supply. "What on Mars for?"

"The rise in value in our currency," she answered back, "is not based on an increase in our productive capacity or improved services. We have simply become a haven currency. Such currencies are incredibly volatile, with wild swings in value-sometimes on a daily basis. But my research shows that eventually these currencies are, for lack of a better word, called to account. The closer I can keep those currencies to the actual productive value they represent, the less harm we should experience overall. I need this authority to keep the GCI credits value as close to reality as possible, while avoiding inflation and deflation."

"Brenda," Janet asked Accounting, dispensing with the title formality, "what you're asking to do now ... I was led to believe that this was how all currencies operated back in the Unincorporated Man's day. Can that be true?"

"Believe it or not, yes."

"How can you run an economy with money like that?" Shipping asked, hardly believing his ears. "That is, one based on perception and not on reality?"

"They couldn't," answered Hektor, "but, then again, they never really trusted the pure market."

Janet looked back at Accounting. "Well, then how long can we, um ... screw with it this way?"

Accounting shrugged her shoulders, resigned. She had no idea. None of them envied her the job she was forced to do, nor would they begrudge her the powers she asked for.

Hektor checked his monitor, which let him know where The Chairman stood. "A motion has been put forward to grant Accounting the ability to release up to an additional 3 percent at her discretion, with the additional authority to withdraw, by various means, the 6 percent and an additional 2 percent beyond, at her discretion."

"I second," said Advertising.

"Motion has been made and seconded," announced Hektor. "All those in favor raise their hands." Again, unanimous. Hektor called for drinks to be served, and then waited patiently until everyone was reasonably comfortable.

"What I'm about to say will disturb some of you. Actually, who am I kidding? Probably all of you. So here goes. You all must realize that all our efforts will ultimately be futile." He wasn't greeted with cries of surprise or outrage. What he got instead were shrugs of acknowledgment.

"I feel like I'm putting out little fires all over the place," said Advertising. "When I get one taken care of, another one pops up." He got appreciative nods of agreement.