"Mr. Cord," he answered, "if I could have, you would not be sitting here right now listening to the confessions of a lonely old man. You'd be out traipsing around the solar system with your Dr. Harper, and the human race would not be on the road to slavery."

He swirled the newly poured drink in his glass and stared at the elliptical pattern the rich liquid made as he did so.

"I have more power than anyone in history," he uttered, then paused to take another sip, "but I'm not more powerful than than history." history."

He put the glass down on the table, and once again looked directly at Justin.

"The momentum of centuries is difficult to break, and even with my power, Mr. Cord, I couldn't stop the course of events. If I moved too quickly and too openly I would've been exposed and removed from power. All I've been able to do is slow it down."

"It?"

"The crossing of the threshold into outright slavery. Without me and some carefully played political games and judicial appointments, individuals would be allowed to sell off eighty percent of themselves and not seventy-five. Do you know, in my lifetime, Mr. Cord, the minimum percent of themselves a person was required by law to keep was dropped from thirty-five, to thirty, to twenty-five. There are many people still alive who can even remember when it was forty-five forty-five."

"But if it's so obvious, Mr. Chairman, why don't more people fight it? Why aren't my followers in the billions rather than the millions?"

"Fight what, Mr. Cord? Prosperity? Jobs? Wealth? As we all became inextricably linked to one another through personal incorporation, our wealth became more abundant, and we needed less to be content. Even at 20 percent the poorest of us would be as wealthy as you were in your past life-more so, when you consider the health benefits and life expectancy of living in our era. If my calculations are correct, within two centuries the minimum by law that a person will have to keep of themselves will be down to 5 percent. Five percent Five percent, Mr. Cord. That's about what a slave got for his labor before your Civil War. But at least the slave knew he was a slave. Ours won't. Oh, we'll take care of them, feed them, be good masters, but they're going to be slaves, nonetheless."

"Not every slave remained a slave," answered Justin, choosing to leave his glass conspicuously full. "There were always those who rose up."

"Yes," answered The Chairman, "the incredibly talented, driven, and lucky ones managed to find freedom. Would you like to know the percentage of luck I needed to get as far as I got? If I'd been as unlucky as I was lucky early in my career I would never have made majority. The percentage of penny children born of penny parents who will make majority is less than 10 percent. The lower the minimum shares that must be kept, the smaller that number gets. The system is very efficient at making its choices. By the time the average penny is born, educated, and raised he's at his minimum. Society conspires to have his parents, and then himself, give up all of his disposable shares, and it gets harder and harder each passing decade to get them back."

"So then what do you propose to do?"

"Me? Why, nothing. Or, at least, nothing much."

"Oh, I see," said Justin. "What do you propose I I do? That I'm not already doing, that is." do? That I'm not already doing, that is."

"Everything, Mr. Cord. You're the luckiest thing that ever happened to humanity, though it will be centuries before history realizes it. It almost made me believe in the divine. When I got the report of what what you were and you were and when you came from when you came from I sensed that you could be the answer to the problems that had beguiled me. And then when it turned out to be I sensed that you could be the answer to the problems that had beguiled me. And then when it turned out to be you you, Justin Cord, I felt something I hadn't felt in years, Mr. Cord."

Justin shrugged, not venturing a guess.

"Hope," said The Chairman.

"Hope," answered Justin, "is a dangerous thing, Mr. Chairman."

"And so very powerful," countered The Chairman. "I've been protecting you ever since. You wouldn't believe the number of attempts that have been made on your life."

Justin remembered the incident on the Moon and at the Empire State Center. "Yes, yes, I would."

"A confession, Mr. Cord ... The first attempt was mine. Not to take your life, I assure you, but rather to scare you into taking your protection more seriously. I apologize for those two troglodytes. They acted beyond their orders."

"And died."

"If they had followed orders they would not have."

"And the second attempt?"

"Unplanned, but my responsibility nonetheless. One of my subordinates got a little out of hand. He's been dealt with, I assure you."

"Comforting."

"Would you like to know how many attempts I've actually managed to stymie?"

"I'll pass," answered Justin. "Just remind me before I leave to fire my security detail."

The Chairman allowed himself a small laugh.

Justin's eyes narrowed. "I don't understand something."

The Chairman indicated for him to continue.

"If you were so gung ho to keep me unincorporated, why did you have GCI try to incorporate me in court?"

"We had to do something. Hektor would have waited and built a stronger case. Kirk Olmstead, his former boss, wanted to move quickly. I knew Manny Black would destroy them."

"And I suppose," said Justin, resigned, "you set that up as well."

"Yes, though neither of you knew it. I have files of extraordinary people that I keep in reserve for all sorts of contingencies. Manny was one of them."

"Who else did you activate?" snapped Justin.

The Chairman waited a moment before answering, knowing full well that what he was about to reveal would be incendiary.

"Sean Doogle."

Justin's eyes boggled. "You unleashed that murderer on humanity?!"

"To be more precise," he answered, too calm for Justin's comfort, "I allowed Hektor to."

"He murdered the president," shouted Justin. "Hundreds of others-and spawned the architects of the Gray Bomb! Please tell me you're not giving money to the Action Wing."

"Not anymore. Its usefulness is at an end."

Justin stared blankly at the man before him.

"You're mad. Why in the world would you want a revolution that could possibly kill billions when an evolution would achieve the same ends with far less loss of life and a better chance of success?"

"Because, sir, evolution has failed. I've tried it, and even with all my power, could barely stem the tide. What we need now is a revolution revolution. Doogle and the Action Wing were simply the clarion call."

"Evolution failed your way your way, but not mine. It's true that I'm the one man who still has the freedom to choose, and I will I will give humanity a fighting chance at a real destiny, but not at the guaranteed price of billions dead." give humanity a fighting chance at a real destiny, but not at the guaranteed price of billions dead."

"Billions, Mr. Cord?" asked The Chairman, clenching his jaw so tightly his words were almost indiscernible. "What about the hundreds of billions hundreds of billions who'll be here soon? If your evolution fails, what sort of universe will they be born into? One in which each of them is free to choose a destiny, or one in which they'll be programmed from birth to accept a certain range of menial jobs for 5 percent of their labor? And what of the who'll be here soon? If your evolution fails, what sort of universe will they be born into? One in which each of them is free to choose a destiny, or one in which they'll be programmed from birth to accept a certain range of menial jobs for 5 percent of their labor? And what of the trillions trillions who'll follow that? who'll follow that?

"I'd give anything to be you," The Chairman continued, "the man to lead humanity out of slavery. But we don't get to choose our history so much as history chooses us, do we? Well, Justin Cord, history has chosen you history has chosen you."

"No, sir," retorted Justin, "you have chosen me. And if I were to follow your course, countless more billions will die needlessly. In your rush to destroy the system you hate, you haven't stopped to consider what would replace it. Well, I'll tell you. It's almost always something or someone worse. Mao, Pol Pot, Hitler, Stalin, and Ahmadinejad, to name but a few." have chosen me. And if I were to follow your course, countless more billions will die needlessly. In your rush to destroy the system you hate, you haven't stopped to consider what would replace it. Well, I'll tell you. It's almost always something or someone worse. Mao, Pol Pot, Hitler, Stalin, and Ahmadinejad, to name but a few."

"I'm a good judge of character, Mr. Cord, and you're none of the above."

"You're right, I'm not. But there's no guarantee, as you so aptly pointed out, that I'll be around forever, and I'm not willing to trust the future of humanity on the whims of one person. Slow and steady wins the race, sir. Even if it means the race takes a few hundred years."

"I'm well aware of history, Mr. Cord. It wouldn't be just you. We can both both manage it. With my power and connections and your leadership we can turn it all back- manage it. With my power and connections and your leadership we can turn it all back-together."

"No, we can't," answered Justin, "at least, not the way you're envisioning it. And we'd be fools if we thought we could. Your revolution has succeeded in nothing but the killing of countless millions, and if not for me flying across the far reaches of the planet, quite possibly countless more. No, sir. If you want me on board you do it my my way. It won't free everybody, but anybody who wants to be free will have the opportunity." way. It won't free everybody, but anybody who wants to be free will have the opportunity."

Neither said a word, each waiting for the other to give. After almost two minutes of silence, Justin realized The Chairman no longer knew how to compromise.

"We appear to be at a crossroads, sir," said Justin, with a wry smile.

"Indeed."

"I'm convinced," said Justin, "that working separately we'll fail."

Justin waited for The Chairman to absorb what he'd just said.

"What do you suggest?" asked The Chairman.

"Let's give evolution a decade or two, with myself as the leader. If in that time it's not working, and is a complete and utter failure, we can always resort to your way."

The Chairman thought it over briefly, looked up from his now empty glass, and smiled.

"I agree, then ... for now."

"Oh, and one more thing," said Justin.

"Yes?"

"Neela."

The Chairman sighed, and shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I can't get her back."

At first Justin didn't react. Then the old man's recalcitrance got the better of him.

"Why the hell not?"

"For both your sakes!" The Chairman shot back. "You cannot have Dr. Harper, nor do I believe you should. Your sociological effectiveness increases the more you suffer publicly. But it's a moot point ... do you really think she'd have you back? You continue to tear at a system she loves ... almost as much as she loves you."

"Mr. Chairman," retorted Justin, regaining his composure now that he'd confirmed all was not lost, "if you want me to be your partner in this endeavor, if you want my help, you'll get me Neela-whether she wants me or not. Otherwise, I do it my way-the whole way. That's the deal I'm prepared to make. Take it or leave it."

Justin then raised the glass he'd left untouched, almost willing The Chairman to raise his.

The Chairman looked at the man before him and saw the resolve. It was the rare occurrence that he, the CEO of GCI, ever needed someone more than he himself was needed, but such was the case. He'd gotten as far as he was going to get. Only the Unincorporated Man could take it further. He refilled his glass and raised it up. "Then you'll get Dr. Harper-if she'll have you."

The quiet hum of the beanstalk was interrupted momentarily by the sound of glass on glass as they toasted to the deal, drank, and then sat back.

There was, realized Justin, one impediment still to be considered. "What about Hektor? He won't take too kindly to my being seen with Dr. Harper-especially after having banished her to the outer system."

"Don't worry about Hektor, Mr. Cord ... ," assured The Chairman.

The icy stare was back.

"... he'll be taken care of. I suggest you disappear for a few weeks."

With that The Chairman got up from his chair. Justin rose as well. The deal was done, the meeting over.

"Good luck, Mr. Cord. We'll be in touch."

The Chairman realized that he was now passing on the torch, and with it the years of hardship and strain attendant to a life spent in furtive embrace. Though the job wasn't finished, it was at least entering a new phase. Indeed Indeed, thought The Chairman, hope is a very powerful thing hope is a very powerful thing.

As Justin shook The Chairman's hand, he noticed something he hadn't yet seen in the eyes of the man he'd grown to both fear and loathe-he saw relief.

16 Resolution

The Chairman had suggested, and Justin concurred, that it was best for all involved for him to leave Earth's orbit for a few weeks until things settled down. The old man had assured Justin that Mosh McKenzie's yacht-and Neela with it-would be diverted to Ceres, a planetoid in the asteroid belt orbiting somewhere between Mars and Jupiter. The oversized floating boulder was, at the moment, approximately 1.6 Astronomical Units from Earth or, as sebastian had put it, "approximately 148,729,291.6278931 miles ... give or take." By normal means the trip would take months, but Justin had plans for a far speedier arrival, and the credits to back them up.

After leaving The Chairman's suite he headed straight for the transshipment point farther down the beanstalk. It was crowded and filled with cargo pods of raw materials from the outer system-all being processed for shipment to Earth's ravenous industries. Once he was there, it wasn't difficult for Justin to have a ship pick him up and take him to the American Express orbital platform where he planned to arrange a trip out to the asteroid belt.

It was only as he was leaving on the luxury transport that Justin realized the significance of the day-not from what had been achieved, but from what had been forgotten. He kept telling himself that, given all that had happened, he couldn't really be faulted, but that proved to be of little solace. Though he knew it to be improper, he turned to his only available outlet.

"Hello, sebastian?"

"I'm here, Justin."

"I have a bit of a problem."

"By the tone in your voice," answered sebastian, "I'm assuming it's of a personal nature. As you know, I'm excellent at helping with mundane problems-not those that require deeper insight."

"All fine and well, sebastian," answered Justin, "the problem is, anyone I'd want to talk to is out of reach." Very out of reach Very out of reach.

"I'm afraid," answered the DijAssist, "that I may not be of much use. Our programs tend to be very good at helping children. We can listen and offer generic advice on generic situations like 'nobody listens to me' or 'my brother stole my doll.' By the time a person starts to deal with complex emotional issues they're usually well beyond talking to their avatars."

"Tell ya what then, buddy," answered Justin, "all you have to do is listen. Truth is, I have a tough time talking to most people nowadays."

"That is most understandable, Justin. I will, of course, listen."

The DijAssist went silent.

"My wife died today. I mean ... today's the anniversary of her death," Justin corrected.