"Alright," Justin said, "I'm listening."

Hektor breathed a sigh of relief. He'd managed to get through this impossible human being's thick skull, and he had no problem expressing his joy at having done so. It wasn't out of hubris, it was out of respect. He hadn't planned on hiding anything for this meeting, knowing the subject was far too smart and the stakes far too high.

"OK, Justin. This is the deal. We'll end all of it. You'll be with Neela. We'll not only put an end to the vicious rumor of your affair, we'll come right out and support it. Get her reaccredited, even. I already have renowned experts lined up who'd be more than happy to state unequivocally that the client-patient relationship does not count in your circumstance. We'll even throw you a wedding party. Trust me, Justin, by the time I'm through people will be lining up to find out where you're registered. Second, you'll have all your money back. And, believe it or not, the government won't even bother taxing you. Do you think they like what they're doing?"

"They seem to be quite good at it," Justin answered sarcastically.

"Yeah," Hektor conceded, "that's government for you. But I've had to apply thumbscrews every millimeter of the way.

"Also," he continued, "if you incorporate you'll do so with the standard one hundred thousand shares that everyone gets at birth, with one exception. Unlike everyone else, you'll be able to keep them all."

Justin shook his head in disbelief.

"All of them?"

"All of them," Hektor smiled shrewdly, "but one."

"Ahh," Justin answered, shaking his head. There was always a catch.

"And who gets to keep that one share ... or shall I say, 'trophy'? You or The Chairman?"

"Give it to whoever you want, Justin."

Justin's mouth hung open, then snapped shut.

"I said you'd won, Justin," Hektor smiled earnestly. "I meant it. But I'd suggest you give it to Dr. Harper, as I'm sure you're aware it's the traditional engagement exchange."

Had Hektor been privy to his conversation with Neela? Doubtful Doubtful, Justin thought. If there was any house that had security on par with GCI's it was his.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" he challenged. "GCI owns an outright majority of Neela. I may as well hand it over to you or the The Chairman, because either of you could threaten me via her at any time."

Hektor nodded, as if in complete agreement.

"Let me explain this 'you've won' concept again. If you agree to give Dr. Harper the one share of you, GCI will hand over control of all its shares of stock in Dr. Harper to Dr. Harper. This will give your girlfriend 70.4 percent control of her portfolio, and that will make her ... 'bulletproof,' I believe is the expression you'd use."

"Yes," Justin confirmed, barely able to believe the offer. "You're telling me that GCI is prepared to walk away from the tens of millions of credits Neela would be generating for them? I find that rather hard to believe."

Hektor laughed. "Justin, I suggest you take a moment and see just how much your country doctor is really worth."

Justin checked with sebastian quickly. A moment later he looked up, not believing the enormity of the number he saw.

"Neela stocks are worth billions billions? She's the most valuable person in the system next to The Chairman?"

Hektor nodded. "Uh-huh."

"I knew she was worth a lot, but Jesus, why?" Then: "Is this some kind of trick? Have you messed with my avatar?"

"He can't," sebastian assured him. "He'd have to take control of the entire Neuro to do that, and even GCI doesn't have that much power."

"Alright, then, Hektor," said Justin, "how is it she's worth so much?"

Hektor checked the time. "You do realize that our five minutes are up."

"Screw you, Sambianco. I'm well aware of the time. How is it she's worth so much?"

"You're why, Justin. I could go into the details, but I myself don't understand them. Try looking up a market psychologist sometime. But the gist of it is, the market not only shows the values of various goods and services, but it's also the expression of humanity. This market is the first one in human history in which everyone plays a part. Some even call it the subconscious of the race. In that vein, everyone knows that you're the cause and the center of the crisis. Unconsciously, they also realize that you're the cure. And they can't buy shares of you. They most likely never will. But guess who they can buy shares of?"

"Neela."

"By the bucketload. You see, she's the closest thing to you. Justin, I could retire, and retire well, on her shares. That's if I'd kept them, of course."

"Sell too soon, Sambianco?"

"Nope. Actually donated them to the pool that GCI will give to you."

Justin eyed him suspiciously. "You're serious."

"Easy enough to check. If you don't want to think of me as the best friend you've got, then go ahead and think of me as your genie. What do you want? How about a moon? We can get you one. Do you want clear title to Venus? It will take some doing, but it's yours. Take it, rename it, call it Concordia or Neela or whatever. Hey, here's an idea. Take a majority of my stock my stock. You can do to me what I've been doing to you ... for the rest of your life. Do you want Chairman stock? How much? You have us. Ask away."

"Do you honestly believe that my giving up one share will make that much of a difference?"

"Yes," answered Hektor gravely. "Everything."

"Just curious. How?" asked Justin.

"Because you'll no longer be the Unincorporated Man. You'll have voluntarily joined the human race. Once you take that one step, GCI will be able to do the rest. But you have to do it voluntarily."

"And if I won't?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Hektor said, getting up from the couch. He'd been afraid to move at first, so delicate was the surgery he felt he was performing. But for Hektor Sambianco, not moving was like not breathing. Now that he knew he had Justin's undivided attention, he'd decided to stand up and pace a little. His nerves were frayed, and the blood flow would do him good, help him think better.

"Keep in mind, Justin," said Hektor, "our system isn't evil. It's good, it's certainly better than yours ever was. You cry 'freedom,' but mean 'equal.' You think people really want either? I'll tell you what they want-in your era or mine-they want to be left alone. And those that want the ability to affect their destiny always find a way. You're a case in point. In our era we're just a little better at it. Anyone can make it in our world, Justin. Believe me. We're not some distorted view of freedom, we're truly free. Free from pain, free from suffering, and, Damsah be praised, free from equality."

"That's not freedom, Hektor," he answered mockingly, "that's blindness. You've somehow lost sight of the fact that your technology has enabled you to have the trappings of freedom and equality, when in fact your system enslaves."

"Justin," countered Hektor, "it's not technology, it's sociology that makes us work. I studied your time period extensively. Do you remember seeing commercials on your television sets that would have some person begging for money to help starving people somewhere? They would show you pictures of emaciated people. You would see them dying on your television sets in front of you!"

"Of course I remember. I gave plenty to charities like that."

"That's nice, but it didn't really help that much, did it? Not the masses of people. Now what if we applied our sociology, not our technology not our technology, our sociology to that problem? You tell me if it would have made your world better or worse."

"In what way?" Justin asked, sensing a trap.

"What if," answered Hektor, without missing a beat, "instead of giving two, three, four dollars a month for a charity's sake, you gave ten dollars a month for a 5 percent share of that kid's future earnings? And you, of course, get nothing if the kid dies. Now you have a real interest in making sure that kid got that pair of shoes you sent. Now it's in your interest to find out if he's going to school and learning to read and write. Now maybe you'll send him that box of old clothes you were thinking of throwing away. Under your system you write a check and forget about the kid, who'll probably starve anyway. Under our system, you're locked into him. You don't just give a damn, you give an ongoing damn. It doesn't stop there. Your country, the USA, used to let whole regions of the planet go to hell and intervene in other regions based on national interest, which was almost always economic. Well, now, if millions of Americans are invested in millions of formerly starving people around the world, they'll probably want to make sure they don't get killed by some asshole with a gun and an agenda. Suddenly it's in the economic interest of your government to make sure that asshole governments won't kill millions of their own people for stupid ideological or religious reasons."

Hektor paused for breath. "But, Justin, I only put the government into the equation because I think you're a child of your age. The real benefit comes about when those 'evil, selfish, horrible corporations' get involved. How long will it take for a business to realize that there's a huge profit to be made in those hundreds of millions of starving children? If it took even ten years, I'd be amazed. Soon you'd have companies, businesses, and, yes, even corporations. They'd realize that 10 percent income of each of those people would make a huge investment potential. Imagine a world where a bank gives a loan to a corporation to build a school, hospital, or dormitory. Not because it's the right thing to do; who cares! They'd do it because it's the profitable thing to do. And because of that, my system, not in spite of greed and corruption and incorporation, but because of it because of it, will work better than yours in any time period and with any technology you choose."

"But what's to stop those corporations," challenged Justin, "from exploiting those children, Sambianco-and don't tell me that they wouldn't."

Hektor was incensed. "What are you talking about? Those kids were starving to death-on your television sets, no less. They were being killed in pointless, profitless wars. They were suffering from curable ailments, even with your primitive technology. And you're worried some of them will be exploited? Are you totally Alaskan, Justin? Here's some news for you. I readily admit, a lot of those kids would be exploited. And I'll say what I said before, who cares? They'd be alive, for Damsah's sake. No, actually, I take that back. Only the stupid would truly try and exploit those kids. Because those that were exploited would grow up hating your company, and would work like crap. My system, hopefully your system too, if you can see it, works on self-interest. I managed some of GCI's human portfolios, and the number-one thing we tried to solve was discontent. It's not profitable. I'll stack the value of self-interest against those of equality and freedom any day of the week, and you tell me which one ends up being better for humanity." Hektor smiled inwardly at how little Justin was now interrupting him. Each argument, he believed, was another chip at the monolith of Cord's archaic notions.

"Here's a famous quote for you, Justin. It's from Tim Damsah himself. 'Incorporation is nothing but self-interest made viable in our society.' "

Justin remained unmoved. "You can't own a piece of that kid for life. It's wrong."

"Fine," retorted Hektor, "give his shares away. No one's stopping you. Don't you see? It's what makes the system work. Under your sociology-starvation, pain, occasional guilt-induced concern, followed by usually painful, pointless oblivion. Under our sociology-committed, long-term concern and investment leading to education, health, and long life. Of course neither system assures happiness, but, Justin, can you honestly not tell me which one gives that starving kid a better shot at it?"

"If your system's so great, Hektor, then why are so many people threatened by it? I didn't start the Liberty Party; I just spoke about divestiture. The party was a grassroots campaign that spread like wildfire before I got there before I got there. I only took over the reins after that madman Doogle died."

"Justin," snapped Hektor, "you could start a movement just by wearing an off-season suit. I'm sure there'd be thousands of people who'd see it as some sort of trend and swear by it, because the great Justin Cord did it. Your fashion faux pas would become their new style guide. That's how much influence you have. But let's talk basics here, shall we? When was the last time someone starved in our system, or missed a meal? Missed out on a proper education, or lacked for a place to sleep? Not seen a doctor or a lawyer when they needed one? These poor fools in your party have no experience with just how rotten your way of life was. They forgot ... we all forgot, Justin. But here's my prediction. At its worst, we'll have a civil war with suffering, death, and a century of truly pointless pain. But in the end the incorporated system will prevail. It works better. What you and I are doing here today, right now, is trying to avoid that century of having to relearn the lessons of the Grand Collapse-of having another Gray Bomb incident occur. That's where you can help, and that's why we'll do anything to get you to give up your one share."

Justin's brow raised slightly. "Anything, you say?"

"Anything. I'm the strong right arm of the most powerful person in human history. Ask and I can make it happen."

Justin decided to have that synthetic beer after all. He got up, went to the fridge, and grabbed the can, then went back into the living room and sat himself down.

"Hektor, no offense ... actually you can take offense. You're the messenger. A powerful one, I'll give you. But a messenger nonetheless."

"And?"

"I don't deal with messengers. Certainly not for something of this magnitude."

It only took Hektor a second, but he knew what Justin was getting at.

"He hardly sees anyone," Hektor answered tersely, "and I mean anyone. Even you. No more interviews, no in-person board meetings. I can barely get in to see him these days." hardly sees anyone," Hektor answered tersely, "and I mean anyone. Even you. No more interviews, no in-person board meetings. I can barely get in to see him these days."

Justin took Hektor by the arm and saw him to the door. "Arrange it, Hektor. If you want to have any chance of this deal going through, I'm going to have to meet with the one man that matters. I will will see The Chairman." see The Chairman."

15 The Chairman

The greatest gift a person can have is the freedom to choose.-MILTON FRIEDMAN, FREE TO CHOOSE FREE TO CHOOSE, 1979

One hour after his talk with Hektor, Justin was informed by sebastian that a meeting had been set. Justin would meet The Chairman, and he'd meet him in his office atop GCI headquarters in New York City the following afternoon. Justin promptly said good-bye to Agnes, wished her luck, and headed out in his flyer. It would take him longer, but it would also give him some time to bone up on GCI system headquarters and the man he was about to meet.

He first concentrated on the complex of buildings that made up the headquarters. He had to admire its beauty. It was indeed a magnificent achievement befitting a corporation of GCI's stature. Even the foundation of the complex was remarkable. In reviewing the building's history, Justin read that by the time GCI had become one of the megacorporations, all the available land in New York City had been taken-at least, all the land large enough to house a building of GCI's stature. Justin found this amazing, because this was the New York that had, in effect, drained the Hudson River and built skyscrapers all the way to New Jersey and beyond.

GCI discovered that it would be next to impossible to build a complex large enough to headquarter their system-spanning enterprise. Not only would it have been cost prohibitive, it would most likely have generated a lot of bad publicity. It also hadn't helped that there'd already been a tremendous amount of interference from other corporations that didn't want GCI anywhere near their neck of the woods.

And that's when the board, following the suggestions of an enterprising young V. P. of General Operations named Mosh McKenzie, started something brand-new.

The corporation bought the rights to the seabed outside the seawall in the Hudson district. And in another bit of foresight, they bought those rights out to one hundred miles, so that no one could do to GCI what GCI was about to do to all those corporations that had made it so difficult for them to buy land earlier. Then, at great expense, the company raised the seabed and built an extended seawall, giving them a full three square miles of foundation to work with. With the foundation complete, the plans were drawn up. The famed architect Gavriel Yonatan created what, read Justin, was now considered to be the greatest single building complex in the history of mankind. The edifice began on the outskirts with luscious green parks, corporate housing for visiting guests, and a small orport. A little farther in were a series of thirty fifty-story building complexes, and, farther still, the true architectural party began. No one ever knew who gave the names to the five slightly curved three-hundred-story buildings arranged in a semicircle, but name them they did. They were called Calpurnia, Livonia, Aurilia, Julia, and Antonia. Each one interconnected with the others, in effect creating one tremendous building. By themselves the five sisters would have been a magnificent and much envied system headquarters. But it was what they surrounded that brought GCI world headquarters into the realm of legend, mystery, and magic. In the middle of the five sisters was the structure universally called the beanstalk. It was a man-made structure, stretching from the surface of the planet straight up for fifty miles into the dark embrace of space. Its initial purpose was to enable people and products to escape the gravity well via hundreds of specialized elevators.

The irony of the beanstalk was its apparent obsolescence halfway through its construction. The t.o.p. system of ground-based lasers and water-filled containers made it so. T.o.p.s could move practically anything-from a single person up to cargoes the size of old freighters-out of Earth's gravity, and do it more efficiently. But by then the initial capital outlay had been approved, and the already open construction required that the project be finished. And it was-but the GCI beanstalk wasn't a total loss, as it still managed to make some money from the movement of low-value bulk items, like ore and organic compounds.

What the GCI beanstalk had managed to do, and do quite well, was grab the imagination of humanity. It was the most popular tourist attraction on Earth, and by virtue of Earth's having the largest concentration of people, the most popular tourist attraction in the system. Though the ring tours of Saturn and the deep canyon cruises of Mars would certainly compete, a ride to the top of the GCI beanstalk was as mandatory in the present day as a visit to the top of the ill-fated World Trade Center towers had been in Justin's.

As the flyer skimmed over the wilderness of what once had been called the Bible Belt, Justin began to research The Chairman. According to the most recent picture-if that was any indication at all-he was a man in his early forties, with short, gray-flecked hair and a medium build. He had gray-green eyes, a square jaw, and a discernible glare that indicated the power within his grasp.

As if lending more resonance to his aura, the man rarely appeared for events and interviews, preferring to leave that "dirty work" to his current number two, Hektor Sambianco.

But his story, Justin could see, was legendary. He'd been raised by his father-his mother having died in the final stages of the terraforming of Mars. Soon after her passing, father and son left the confines of the distant planet for the more comforting environs of Earth. They were both in the penny stocks, and The Chairman's education had not positioned him well for corporate advancement. But his grades, Justin saw, had always been outstanding, and he'd scored very well on all of his aptitude tests. He'd wisely used those marks to get accepted into a prestigious piloting and navigation trade school. He eventually went on to become a navigator, and graduated, not surprisingly, at the top of his class. A midlevel sifter from GCI's human resources department came across the young talent using a fairly standard "spotter" program. The sifter sent the file up to his boss, who in turn offered the young navigator a job.

Through absolute devotion, willingness to sacrifice, and unrelenting tenacity the young navigator managed to gain a majority interest in himself at the exceedingly young age of thirty-five. With his majority status he was able to transfer from GCI's transport division to their executive pool. Again, another sacrifice, as doing so meant a serious cut in pay, not to mention having the appearance of a poor career move. Had he not had majority, his shareholders would have surely insisted that he remain a well-paid navigator lining their coffers for decades to come.

But providence had other plans for the young, single-minded executive. Over the course of twenty-seven years he worked hard, becoming at the tender age of sixty-two the youngest Chairman in GCI history, and the youngest in living memory of any major corporation.

In the thirty-one years of his Chairmanship, which Justin calculated would make him approximately ninety-three years of age, GCI rose from being one of the ten most powerful corporations in the system to becoming the recognized master of the corporate world. The Chairman did this first by dominating all aspects of intersystem trade and colonization. From there he moved quickly to create an unassailable power base, branching out into almost every field of human endeavor.

He also moved his personal offices from their traditional home in the Livia building to the top of the beanstalk. Then he'd made all the important vice presidents and their offices-along with their staffs-do the same. This combined workforce ended up occupying the equivalent of a thirty-story building forty miles up, with The Chairman's office suite at the very top of the very tallest building in the history of the world. And given the fact that the elevators were encased in a zero-friction vacuum, charged by a superhigh magnetic accelerator, it took only a matter of minutes for one to get from the streets of New York to the top of the world. In this Justin recognized the leadership gift of The Chairman. Amid the corporate elite of the system, Justin read, none were more envied than the ones who took the special express up the beanstalk every morning. They were in the real, visible seat of power. And The Chairman was above them all, looking down from his office onto a planet he practically owned.

This was the place that controlled his destiny, and this was the man who would decide his fate.

Justin landed his flyer on the seaside of the complex, in a spot prearranged with the GCI central traffic coordinator. As he put the flyer into autopilot, it came to a floating stop six inches off the ground near a giant weeping willow only thirty feet from the seawall. He exited the car and, stretching, looked around. He could see the five sisters in the near distance and hear the steady sound of waves crashing against the seawall. He could even feel the salty spray on his face as he breathed in the ocean air-all of which was a welcome relief from the canned air he had been forced to breathe on his cross-country journey. He took one last look at the flyer next to the bowing willow, and headed in the direction of the five sisters.

He'd been offered a direct transport but chose to walk. It wasn't so much to clear his head as to get his blood flowing. Per his instructions, and with sebastian's able direction, he headed toward Livonia, where only those blessed with a visit to the real seat of power caught the true elevator to the stars. It was a clear cloudless day, and from the ground up the GCI system headquarters complex was immense. Just looking up at any any three-hundred-story building was enough to make one feel insignificant, but to look up and see five was almost more than his brain could take in. And even as awe-inspiring as the five sisters were, they almost paled next to the beanstalk. It didn't appear to be any more ornate than any of the sisters. If anything, less so. From up close, it looked to be a massive silver cylinder made up of enormous, slightly off-color, overlapping plates. It had, upon further inspection, thousands of long, threaded seams from which Justin could make out the movement of transport tubes. The thing just rose, up and up ... and up, eventually disappearing into the atmosphere in the shape of a tiny needle piercing the heavens. It was as if, thought Justin, its sole purpose was not, in fact, to transport goods and tourists, but rather to make one feel completely insignificant. three-hundred-story building was enough to make one feel insignificant, but to look up and see five was almost more than his brain could take in. And even as awe-inspiring as the five sisters were, they almost paled next to the beanstalk. It didn't appear to be any more ornate than any of the sisters. If anything, less so. From up close, it looked to be a massive silver cylinder made up of enormous, slightly off-color, overlapping plates. It had, upon further inspection, thousands of long, threaded seams from which Justin could make out the movement of transport tubes. The thing just rose, up and up ... and up, eventually disappearing into the atmosphere in the shape of a tiny needle piercing the heavens. It was as if, thought Justin, its sole purpose was not, in fact, to transport goods and tourists, but rather to make one feel completely insignificant.

Once Justin got close enough to the working hubbub of the complex, sebastian switched from vocal directions to visual. Justin was about to enter a veritable city, jam-packed with people, machinery, and robots. Visual direction from this point on would be far more efficient. Sebastian activated an internal teleprompter, which enabled Justin's eyes to see-and therefore follow-a red line on the ground. Floating just above the grand citadel's entrance was a huge fifty-foot by three-hundred-foot sign. It read:

GCI-INVESTING IN HUMANITY

Justin walked approximately five hundred yards-bypassing throngs of workers and all manner of machines-to the entrance of the Livonia building. He ignored the hard stares. He also noticed that he was now being accompanied by, at a reasonable distance, a small cadre of securibots. The inside lobby was what he expected-thousands of people moving to and fro, rushing from one place to another. He followed the red line to the lifts, where he took a tube alone-the securibots had seen to that-up to the top of the building. He exited the tube and then traversed a connecting walkway to the beanstalk. He now found himself in a lobby of a different sort. First of all, it was far less crowded. One was only there if one had business being there. The manner and dress of the people was different as well-expensive suits, superior attitudes. The shape of the lobby was circular. It reminded Justin of a stadium, in that he imagined he could walk for some time before finally making it back to where he'd started.

He'd emerged, by design, directly in front of the executive lifts. The bank of lifts allowed thousands of people who worked at the top to arrive and depart without having to deal with a bottleneck. And, of course, there was the one the one elevator, specially cordoned off by a red rope, a small army of securibots, and a group of expressionless, well-armed, muscular men and women. The elevator was used only by the board and their personal staffs, and was also where Justin's red line was leading to. elevator, specially cordoned off by a red rope, a small army of securibots, and a group of expressionless, well-armed, muscular men and women. The elevator was used only by the board and their personal staffs, and was also where Justin's red line was leading to.

Of the people he did see in this lobby, not a one made any eye contact, nor did any make an effort to come up, direct, or interact with him in any way. He shrugged and headed for the elevator. A human guard lifted the red rope and waited for Justin to walk through.

He entered the elevator, which, becoming aware of his presence, spoke.

"Which floor do you want, sir?"