Nihil addresses his followers: “Burn him and don’t speak about it to anyone if you don’t want to come to the same end!”
He runs down the stairs. Large drops are pounding the windows of the landing. From the gutters, a deafening roar.
He flings open a glass door, and enters a hall adorned with garlands. Busy people. Smiling faces.
“How are preparations going?”
SHADY BUSINESS
George Town, Cayman Islands.
Two o’clock in the afternoon. A dazzling brightness floods the streets, the downtown skyscrapers and the small villas of the suburbs. There isn’t a soul to be seen. But inside, in the chill of the artificial habitats, thousands of people are working. The most enormous fortunes in the solar system are concentrated in their hands and the power they hold is as immense as the wealth they manage.
However, the future of the Alpha Centauri project does not pass through these luxurious places. In a shabby old building on the outskirts, inside a room lit up by the shafts of light filtering through the shutters, a tiny company that almost no one knows has its offices: Exotic Foods. A ceiling fan turns slowly, but the air is too hot to bring relief to the two employees, who gasp in silence taking care to move as little as possible.
The man, a white-haired giant, is sunk in an armchair behind his desk and is bolting a soya hamburger. Nearby, a pretty Creole, intent on checking her make-up in a magnifying mirror, is perched on a stool. Her face, an oval with delicate features, is surmounted by a mass of curly hair falling to her shoulders. She wears a partially unbuttoned blouse showing her buxom breasts and a full skirt folded just enough to display her slim sinewy legs due to a childhood spent in the open air.
After lunch, the man takes a little rest. He leans back in the chair, half-closes his eyes and peeps at the girl's curves. He certainly didn’t lack adventures in his youth. His impressive figure, thick head of hair and athletic build attracted women like bees to honey. He glances at his wrinkled hands. At the thought that many of his contemporaries still have the enviable body of a man in his thirties, he seethes with anger.
The new techniques of genetic improvement were never applied to the cells destined to generate him, not because of his parents too poor to support the cost, but because of a cruel joke of destiny. The day after his conception, the state made the treatment compulsory, taking all the expenses upon itself. He was the last not to benefit.
He laces his fingers behind his head.
"However my childhood was calm."
He grew up in a large family and from when he was a small child, he was struck by his parents’ efforts to ensure a decent life for their children. He saw his father leave for the fields at dawn and come back completely whacked at the end of the day. His mother divided herself between domestic duties and a myriad of small activities. Being a smart keen child, he made his contribution to the family budget devoting himself to the humblest work with great care. Then, at the end of each week, he presented himself very proudly to his parents to hand over his wretched earnings. Although he put a lot of effort into this activity, he was constantly progressing in his studies. He took a diploma with good marks and when he won a scholarship, he was over the moon.
For many years he has managed one of the many companies that thrive in the country thanks to the facilities that law assures to non-residents. Exotic Foods, a small business that covers the much more important activity of receiving money from strangers and transferring it to unknown payees. At the beginning he tormented himself with the thought that this money could feed illicit trades and imagined the day police would raid his office. But none of his worries has ever become a reality.
He doesn’t still know the identity of the owner, hiding himself behind companies and dummies, but he doesn’t want to learn it either. His employer attaches great importance to anonymity, at least because he has always avoided being seen. Therefore the old man restricts himself to carrying out promptly and accurately the tasks he is entrusted with from time to time, fully aware his behavior is much appreciated. The almost total lack of inspections and the substantial bonus he receives at every year-end are clear proof.
He looks around: chipped pieces of furniture, obsolete equipment. A very different place from the one he dreamt of several years before, when after university he was looking forward to conquering the world.
"At least my life is quiet."
He gazes again at Anita, so attractive in her flowered dress.
The woman has gone back to her desk. “We have to send another money transfer to the Wonderful Islands, the third in a week!” She turns towards the man. “Who knows what is going on…”
“You are paid to work,” he replies, “not to waste time in matters you are not concerned with.”
Shortly later a friend of his contacts him: “I received a sum that has been credited to your account.”
A common practice when the origin must remain unknown.
“I must see you,” continues the interlocutor dropping his voice. “It’s urgent!”
“Usual place, in half an hour.”
He puts on a wide-brimmed hat and adds his dark glasses, takes his walking stick and limping plunges into the scorching heat. Panting, he passes a block of houses, while his forehead is beading with sweat, and enters an English-style pub. His friend is in a corner, intent on sipping an iced beer. The old man sits down just opposite.
The young man indicates to the waiter to bring a beer mug for his guest.
He is a brown-haired man with a smooth skin and a lively glance. They are about the same age, but differently from him, he benefited from the genetic improvement before law made it compulsory, because he belonged to a well-off family. They had met more than eighty years before, during university, and immediately made friends with each other. The old man liked that vagabond and daredevil companion who was his exact opposite. Instead the other looked for him, because he was as attentive and modern as an older brother. Together, they had lived memorable adventures, that they remember from time to time with real amusement.
The man’s father succeeded in making his son complete the studies thanks to generous donations dispensed to the faculty and afterwards employed him in his office. A few years later the young man got married and under the pressure of his family, passed the examinations to become a trustee, one of the highly valued persons for the economy of the Cayman Islands, whom the foreigners entrust with their savings.
“Yesterday an inspector rushed into my office together with two agents with marked foreign accents,” he whispers. “They inspected my account books, the bank statements and the archives. When I refused to answer their questions, they threatened me with taking my license away.”
He leans forward. “They found your money transfer!”
The old man remains impassive. Whatever happens, he doesn’t run any risk. He can prove his good faith and even if everything goes wrong, he would avoid prison because of his old age. “Did you get mixed up in a shady business?”
“I didn’t.”
“So don’t worry. The Law protects us.”
The other assumes a grateful expression: the old man is always reassuring and willing to help him even in the most difficult moments. He calls the waiter: “Two more beers.” Then he continues: “Soon I will be father!”
“Congratulations!”
“Yesterday I was at the hospital with my wife. Our baby is growing well and he will get out of the artificial uterus in three months. He has been subjected to the most advanced genetic improvements. His treatment has been quite expensive but our doctor told us we couldn’t have made a better choice. He will be much more beautiful and intelligent than us.”
The old man listens in silence. He is a wreck in comparison with his friend, but in not many years also this young father, looking at his son, will have the same sensation of inadequacy. Surely it isn’t worth poisoning one’s existence envying others. Better to accept whatever fate brings, consoling himself with the positive momen
ts life can offer.
“Are you worried?”
“I was thinking...”
A smiling face appears in the old man’s visual field. It is his secretary who reminds him of the next meeting.
“I must go.”
“See you soon.”
The older one makes for the door, but before going out, turns. “Give my regards to your wife and again, congratulations!”
He walks a few dozen meters along the sidewalk, crosses the street and stops by an anonymous brick building, in front of a brass plate beside a black door. The Overseas Bank has one of its branch offices here. The old man leans his right hand against the fingerprint detector and when the door opens, he steps into an entrance covered with fitted carpet. A young woman of Chinese origin with a pencil skirt and a silk blouse receives him. She is tall and thin, with dark eyes emphasizing her pale complexion.
“Good afternoon! The director is waiting for you on the second floor. This way, please.”
They take the elevator and enter a small room without windows. The director is behind a table. The two shake hands.
“Can I help you?”
WONDERFUL ISLANDS
@
“The Wonderful Islands are among the most enchanting places in Net. The luxuriant vegetation covering a large part of the country, is interrupted at intervals by yellow, red and dark blue expanses. Here flowers of all sizes spread even across the beaches, inside the villages and towns, so that the whole country is perfumed. The coastline is indented with uncountable inlets where the whitest beaches alternate with rocks striated with black and ochre. The sea is populated by a world of corals and colored fish. No wonder these islands are an exclusive holiday resort. The bungalows, hidden in the green, offer exactly the comfort and privacy the most exigent customers demand. The capital is on the largest island, around a wide bay from which the skyscrapers rise like crystals from a geode.
Since the independence of the country fifty years ago, its government has introduced tax regulations in favor of foreign investors, passing laws which allow the setting up and management of bank accounts and companies in total anonymity. These opportunities have attracted the most important corporations in the Solar System, as well as small firms and private investors.
But a few years ago, crime started infiltrating the institutions. Since then the country has undergone dramatic changes: the offer has been extended to money laundering and illicit trades, but what is worse, the immense wealth flowing in from abroad has become a blackmail tool.
When the Confederation asked the Wonderful Islands to sign a transparency protocol, it received a definite refusal. It put forward other proposals, all of them wrecked. Attitudes became soured, but even threats and commercial sanctions didn’t have any effect. Today the situation is dominated by the calm before the storm. The President has stopped giving ultimatums, maintains that only an invasion can unblock the situation and masses troops on the borders. It seems that Special Forces units have infiltrated the enemy network...”
The Solar System Chronicles, February 5th 2300, “Beyond tax heavens”.
A STRANGE PERSON
@
A woman is swimming some meters above the coral reef, towards the white sandy shore. A shoal disperses at her arrival, while a moray peeps out from its hiding-place.
She rises from the sea showing her athletic shoulders and a shapely pair of legs, walks gracefully across the beach. Her ivory complexion and platinum blond hair make her look like an angel, but her eyes are icy. Halfway, she turns round. In the crystal clear water, turquoise and dark blue spots follow one another. Against the horizon, thin clouds stand out.
The woman makes her way along a path winding through orchid bushes. She passes through a palm grove and arrives at a lawn with a spotless bungalow in the middle. In the shade of a porch, she lies down on a deckchair and half-closes her eyes, enjoying the background of Caribbean music. A waiter dressed in white lays a fruit cocktail on a small bamboo table.
She is satisfied indeed with having bought this virtual atoll, so perfect in every detail it seems real. A few years before, when she ran into the offer for sale, she wanted to visit the island at once and remained so dazzled, that she unhesitatingly paid out an exorbitant sum for it.
But now the time has come to work. She calls her secretary. A smiling face appears.
“Did instructions arrive?” asks the woman.
“Here they are. Do you need anything else?”
The woman has a look at the contents. “For now that’s all, thank you.”
When the small figure has vanished, she examines the request, and then starts working out a plan. She, an artist in her own field, must produce an original work, able to excite the admiration even of sworn enemies. After several attempts, she conceives a satisfying idea. This time she will surpass herself, creating a real masterpiece. In order to realize such a perfect work, she must take care of every detail. The woman enters the bungalow and goes to the living room.
“Show me some period costumes!” she orders the computer.
“What era?”
“18th century dress.”
Clothes for men and women appear in mid-air. She turns around flared skirts and examines a few lace-edged corsets. "I wonder how they could get in…"
Then she stops in front of a black costume with an austere cut. “Put it aside.”
An invisible hand moves it to a corner.
“Since you have chosen a suit,” points out the computer, “I imagine you want to change your appearance too.”
Various looks materialize: young and old, blond and dark. She casts a scornful glance at the nearest ones. “I don’t like those. Take them away!”
They disappear at once. She rummages about for a few minutes and finally stops in front of a tall man. “What magnificent raven hair!”
She runs her hand through his hair. “I want this.”
The male figure walks as meekly as a lamb, next to the suit.
“Do you need anything else?” asks the computer.
“You can go.”
The woman admires her choices.
"Now I must get ready."
She reaches for a mirror and taking a scalpel, puts it to her forehead and starts cutting downwards through the skin. She continues across her face, down to the pubis. She seizes the borders just below her breast and tears them up, making a luminous mist appear. She continues till all the covering has been slipped off. She draws her new features up and lets them spread all over her body. Finally, she puts on the suit.
Now the transformation is complete. In the room, stands a man with a dark complexion and well-kept beard, wearing a black cloak and a cocked hat. He wraps himself up in the cloak and disappears in a flash.
He reappears in a distant place of Net, in the middle of an alley lined with narrow medieval houses. Flaking walls, clothes hanging from the windows. Thick fog, insinuating itself into the cracks of the time-worn building in front. A brackish smell, a sharp cold. He holds the cloak tightly and massages his shoulders vigorously, then makes his way whistling a cheerful tune.
A minute later he emerges into a paved street running alongside a channel. He makes for the main door of a marble palace, with slender windows ending in spires. He stops in front of it. Few pedestrians pass by. A carriage hauled by two pawing black horses, enters rattling.
Slowly the glimmer of the fog weakens. From the windows, the first lights shine out. Silence, broken only by the water lapping against the banks and from time to time by the shouts of boatmen announcing their arrival. Muffled voices.
Suddenly, just in the middle of the waterway, a dim light looms out of the fog, followed by a lonely figure standing on a boat and intent on pushing his single oar.
INVESTIGATIONS
A gala dinner. Large round tables covered with dark blue tablecloths, and on them goblets, china and cutlery, all with the Confederation symbol, four golden stars on a turquoise background, as many as the inhabited worlds of
the solar system. Crystal chandeliers, whose ruby color matches perfectly with the red damask tapestry. Swarms of waiters in white livery.
In front of the Confederation flag, there is a long table with a decoration of pink peonies. The President is in the middle, surrounded by his executive. C573Y is among them, busy discussing with a senator through the neural chip, for secrecy reasons.
“How far is the approval of the invasion?”
“An hour ago the opposition leader gave his assent.”
“When is the official ratification foreseen?”
“The parliament will meet tomorrow afternoon. In the evening it will be all finished.”
In C573Y’s visual field, appears a message. It is his virtual assistant, who is asking for an urgent meeting. The high rank officer takes his leave and goes to a small room.
The neural chip transmits him his assistant’s image. “Yesterday Nihil’s company made a second fund transfer. One thousand solars, the same amount used to corrupt the Space Agency employees. First our agents went to the intermediary’s office with a local investigator. A police search and interrogation didn’t yield any results. So they broke his neural chip open…”
He clenches his fist. “He was telling the truth! Before leaving, they inserted a bug in his frontal lobe and erased every trace of the operation. The subject doesn’t remember anything.”
C573Y has a pensive look. “What about the Exotic Foods manager?”
“He has implanted only an old model of virtual secretary that did not provide us with any useful information. Our team had to use the old methods. He had a heart attack, damn, now he is in coma… However the program hidden in the bank computer has reported that the transfer was sent to a businessman of the Wonderful Islands.”
“The President is ordering the invasion of the Wonderful Islands in a few weeks,” reveals C573Y. “This is the right moment for an intervention by a team of ours, but we cannot wait. I will personally ask for the authorization.”