Chapter Three

The test commercial flickered before their eyes, the triumphant music promising the world through melody while the enhanced imagery selling visions of places far from here. To Kei it looked flat and uninspired, but she had to hope a fresh pair of eyes would provide a more positive perspective. It was all she could manage with limited time. She snuck glances out of the corner of her eye, but her companion’s face was only just visible against the orange-red glow coming from the viewscreen.

As the video came to an end and the living room lit up, Kei did her best not to fidget. In the next five minutes her fate would be sealed based on what they had just seen, and there wasn’t much more she could do by running her mouth. Arthur sat next to her on the sofa (grey, like everything else in the room) and sipped his wine. He was gathering his thoughts – or else making her wait.

In two weeks, her Nano Dex contract would be up. Cuts were coming, and everyone in the game knew that she was the least essential of the executive team. The cuts were to pay for the expense of the Audacity gamble, and it would be all too convenient for them to cut her loose now. Then three or four years down the line, without her, the project would quietly die on the vine. So, she was taking a gamble of her own, and going outside the game. Finally, Arthur spoke.

“Bullshit,” he said.

“No bullshit,” she replied reflexively. “It’s real, Arthur.”

“Snake oil.”

“Alien planets! We’ve found them, and we’re going there, and for a reasonable fee the general public will be invited to come with us.”

“Oh yeah?” he shot back, “Where are they?”

“Where… what do you mean?”

Arthur sat back and stretched out. It wasn’t late, but he looked tired. “These planets. Those pictures – they’re not photographs, are they? No probe is that good.”

Scientific questions were the weakest part of her pitch, and she’d prayed he’d start anywhere else. “They’re artistic impressions. Based on fact – on our actual evidence. We’re still working out the small print for that, but we’ll get there.” She hoped to turn his scientific question into a legal question, but there was no pulling the wool over Arthur’s eyes.

“What’s the evidence? What has Nano Dex actually found? Rocks? Signs of life?”

“Signals,” she said. “Sound, light. Signs of civilisation, there’s no doubt. Even some encoded messages, we think. We know the point of origin – we haven’t seen it for ourselves, but there’s a visual probe headed there now.”

“Last week’s mysterious private launch,” he nodded. “Okay. Say I believe you.”

Kei waited for him to continue. He didn’t, and she very nearly spoke up before stopping herself. When she was very young, nine or ten years old, someone had told her that she talked too much. As far as she remembered, it was the first time that anyone had said something critical to her. Not name calling, or heat-of-the-moment remarks, but honest to goodness criticism. It hadn’t stung at the time. She couldn’t even remember who had said it, or why, but she never forgot it. Over the last twenty years it had neatly slotted itself into the bottom of her gut, like a missing piece. It pulled at her now and she was glad it did.

“Say I believe you,” Arthur repeated. Kei could tell that his mind was trying to process the images they had seen. Real or not, they were dazzling, and they represented a dazzling reality. Kei believed this sincerely – she had to if she wanted to sell him on the product. It didn’t even really matter that he already knew they weren’t real. They had wriggled into his brain, and any advertising intern could tell you that was more powerful than a thousand words.

“Say I believe you,” Arthur said for a third time, and Kei suppressed a scream. Thankfully, this time he finished his thought. “Is this really Nano Dex’s area? I mean, what, space tourism? You build specialist equipment for other exploration companies with bigger names. You don’t ship people out yourself.”

Kei was on safer ground here. Executive Direction had briefed her, though not exactly for this purpose. “We’re moving to expand. Audacity will be the flagship for Nano Dex’s new ‘experiences’ brand. All the big companies start with an expansion like this. You know that better than anyone.”

Arthur grunted. That wasn’t the reaction Kei wanted. She was hoping that line might ignite some of the old Meridian fire, reminding him of his past success. It may have done the opposite. Meridian Incorporated was going from strength to strength, but it was doing it without its founder. He had been required to resign following a change of career, and when that fell through, he hadn’t returned. Rumour was that the board had refused to offer him the position back, and some said he had been tricked into leaving in the first place.

A part of Kei couldn’t imagine the Arthur she knew being tricked by anyone. Another part quietly reminded her that she was essentially doing that right now. They had been friends at her old job in Cormorant Initiatives, one of Meridian’s many subsidiaries. She wasn’t an executive, just a program manager, but the publicity side of her job meant she attended many events where Arthur was speaking. After they had talked once or twice, she summoned up the courage to send a message to his private path (which she found in the Meridian directory, for any of its two million employees to find) asking some advice on moving up in the world. She never expected a reply, but he sensed her ambition and they began a correspondence. Once she left Cormorant (partly at his urging, saying Nano Dex would be a great move for her) she had expected to lose touch, but he was as friendly as ever, never mind that they were technically rivals. She always thought that was ridiculous – everyone in her world was either a rival, a boss, or an employee, which left little room for actual friends.

The media had fun with their friendship, and she even enjoyed a brief period of paparazzi-frenzy. When it became clear that they were just friends, though, the tabloids mostly backed off. It was only when he quit Meridian and launched the campaign that they lost touch, but since he was flying back and forth across the country he could hardly stop in for tea. She considered her next move carefully, calling back to the mental flow chart she had created for this talk.

“And it’s not like we’ll have any competition,” she eventually volunteered. “Nobody’s seen anything like this before.”

Arthur shook his head. “Kei, there’s always competition. You found an alien planet? Great. Next month, Zec-Inc find three more.” When she started to protest, Arthur interrupted. “Or they find something better. Or they make everyone think they found something better. Or they make everyone think alien planets are boring, and that zero-grav sports are back ‘in’. That’s how it works, Kei. You,” he grinned, “know that better than anyone.”

Kei thought back to the countdown on her contract and wondered just how much Arthur knew about her current position. Not enough, she reasoned, or he wouldn’t have let her in the door in the first place. If she truly was dead weight, she was in no doubt that Arthur would throw her overboard like everyone else. Sentiment had nothing to do with it – business is business. It was the same reason she’d voted for the other guy.

“You’re right. It isn’t enough to have found this place. We need to sell this hard, make people realise the ramifications.”

“And, no offence, but you guys aren’t the most adept at public-facing operations. That commercial needs a lot of work. But the problem is broader than that – the Nano Dex name doesn’t exactly inspire thoughts of awe and wonder. More nuts and bolts.”

“Exactly,” she jumped on this point. “Hence Audacity.” Plant the seeds of doubt. “Even some of the exec are unsure about that, though.”

“I mean, I would be,” Arthur laughed, standing and walking to the large plate windows that looked over Edo. The city outshone the stars themselves. Silhouetted against the billboards and glo-lamps, Kei suddenly wondered if Arthur was ever lonely these days. “Audacity,” he murmured. “I see what they were going for – retro style, like the old space missions. Fits a certain aesthetic. But this isn’t retro. Or rather it shouldn’t be. You’re not looking back, you’re looking forward – towards the brave new world, this newly-opened horizon and the possibilities of…” he trailed off, turning back to Kei. “You got me going there. I probably shouldn’t be giving this stuff away. Who knows, I might end up on your competitor’s board sometime soon.”

“Maybe,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Or maybe you’ll be with us.”

The pause. Deep breath.

“What are you saying?”

Kei stood to meet his gaze. “Maybe you’ll consider joining our exec as a founding member. Show us what you’ve got.” Invite a challenge.

“They’d…you’d…they’d have me?”

“They’d have you? They’d kill for you.” She walked over to the window, bringing him his wine he left on the table. She put it in his hands and widened her eyes, the picture of innocence. They really were just friends, but she could still push his buttons when needed. “You were CFO of three different Top 8 corps, a Cambridge and Yale alum, and fresh off a Presidential run -“

“A failed Presidential run,” he interrupted. When he saw the doubt on her face (practiced on the elevator up) he laughed. “I lost, Kei. By a lot.”

“But your profile is bigger than ever. Sixty three million supporters in New Edo alone, the weight of the Civic Party behind you, and a reputation for speaking the truth when nobody else will… that counts for something.” She was trying to divert his thoughts to the things he still had, and not the things he almost missed out on. The fact that she wasn’t visiting him in the President’s Chambers had to sting, but he couldn’t be wallowing in that if he was going to accept.

“You came here,” he said, “to offer me a job?”

“Nothing’s official,” she was quick to clarify. The last thing she wanted was Arthur calling up her EO. That would lead to difficult questions. “Just a tentative expression of interest. Gauge your reaction.”

“Huh.” A flicker of a smile caught the edge of Arthur’s face, and Kei knew she had a chance. She just had to seal it. A siren wailed outside and she checked her watch. She had two minutes to get this done.

“I know you’ve probably had dozens of these offers. Hundreds if you count the subcorps, right? Right. But how many of them will send you to another planet? Imagine, Arthur! Real life aliens.”

“Real life aliens,” he echoed. Then he looked at her. Here it comes. “I’d consider it.” She steeled herself. Wait for it. “On one condition.”

Kei knew this would happen. Even with the hardest sell she could muster, he was the one with the upper hand here. She only hoped it wasn’t something out of her reach. “Go on?”

“You want to hire me to talk, right? Get the word out, make sure it’s the right word, clean up your advertising game, stuff like that? I’m a face.”

“Ri-ight,” she drew out the word. With this last point he had gestured to the blank screen, and she frowned. She didn’t think the ad had been that bad, considering she’d edited it herself. More hard questions.

“So let me talk. To everyone.”

“You mean, making it public? Sure, we’re not ready for that yet, but as soon as the full details come in I can’t think of anyone better–”

“No,” he said. “Everyone.” When she didn’t understand, he gestured at the screen again, “The aliens too.”

“Oh. You want to be our spokesperson for…them.” she realised. That was a curveball. Kei (and the rest of Nano Dex’s exec, for that matter) hadn’t given much thought to the actual communication between the aliens and humans. She had been expecting a triple-digit salary demand, or a specific office, or even the firing of some other colleague where he had a grudge. It figures that Arthur Meridian would ask for something that weird. Still, she thought, she could probably swing it. And hell, even if she couldn’t, she was already done. So she went for it.

“We can do that.”

“Sign?” he asked, pulling a device out of his pocket and clipping the last sixty seconds of audio. Kei cringed a little. Ad hoc aural contracts had become common over the last few years, but they made her uneasy. Scanning the transcription and subsequent translation into legalese (‘them’ became ‘the aforementioned party’, ‘stuff like that’ became ‘and similar such operations’), she pressed her finger to the surface. Her fingerprint registered with a central database somewhere under their feet. A second later it blinked and showed her name. Holding her breath, she tapped ‘Confirm.’ A bright green four-second expiry countdown began. Then Arthur did the same. They smiled at each other, the deal concluded. Outside, it began to snow.

“Great,” she said, turning away from him. “Expect us to be in touch in the morning.”

“You don’t want to schedule a meeting?”

“No, that’s alright,” she gathered up her bag and coat, downing her wine so as not to appear rude. “I’ll put you in touch with Isi Zhukov, he’ll walk you through it.”

“Sure,” Arthur said. “You’re going already?”

One minute. “Can’t stay – big day tomorrow. Lots of big days ahead if we’re lucky.”

“Well…bye.”

“See you around, Arthur,” she winked, already closing the apartment door. Before she could close it all the way, he said “Oh. And thanks for coming over.”

From the other side of the half-closed door, she said “It was nothing. Like I say, you must be sick of old friends coming out of the woodwork.”

“Mmm.” Kei couldn’t see his face.

She closed the door. In the elevator, she finally breathed again. Then she pulled out her own device, pushing away the notification that her newly signed contract was being uploaded. It was exactly ten p.m. Zero minutes left. She navigated to her contacts and selected the one at the top. An ambulance blared past.

The device rang for twenty seconds before Isi Zhukov, her boss, picked up. “Good evening, Kei. I was just about to go to bed.”

“Glad to have caught you in time.” she said, smoothing her dress and heading through the apartment complex foyer. “I’ve just had a thought on Audacity, Isidor.”

“One that can’t wait?”

She smiled as the doors slid open into the cold night air. “No, but I think you’ll like this one. We need someone to communicate our message, someone new. Nano Dex doesn’t inspire awe and wonder, you know? More like nuts and bolts. I’ve just thought…what about Arthur Meridian?”

In the distance, the siren passed.