The Book of Wanda, Volume Two of the Seventeen Trilogy Page 3

  I got love, and I was able to give love. The chance to experience that was worth it. All of it, even this.

  “Jenni’s dad Departed last year,” Nami said. “Dr. Kim told the class not to tease her, but everyone did. Even me.”

  “Why did you tease her, dear?” Wanda asked, numbly turning the girl’s hair around her finger.

  “Her dad had to leave the company because he was bad, Mommy. We wanted to show we hate things that are bad for Amelix. Even though Dr. Kim said not to tease her, we saw how he liked that we were loyal to Amelix. But now you’re bad and I’m the one who’s going to be teased.”

  Wanda’s eyes stung. “Yes, honey. I’m sorry for that.” She pulled Nami’s head to her own and held it tightly. “And I’m so, so sorry that I won’t be able to be with you when that happens.”

  “But Father will be, so it’s okay.”

  Her Accepted ex-husband Davi had strategically divorced her following his promotion when Nami was three. He had a new wife, at a grade in the company one level higher than his own, and together they were raising that woman’s daughter, now four. Davi and Nami had only seen each other a few hours a month since the divorce.

  Accepted parents were ten times more likely to raise Accepted children, according to various persecutors she’d had over the years. Wanda, as an Accepted couple’s failure, was among the few inconvenient and embarrassing outliers that prevented a perfect one hundred percent succession.

  “Why are you bad, Mommy? Have you always been bad?”

  Wanda sniffed. “Do you remember the story we read together when you were a little girl, about Laurel the Chicken, honey?”

  “Chickens aren’t real, Mommy.”

  “Laurel the Chicken didn’t want to lay her eggs, remember? And she went squawking and squawking, and irritating the other chickens who were working hard to make eggs.”

  “I remember. Then Laurel turned into soup.”

  “That’s right, honey. Well, in my case, I didn’t mean to squawk, or even to make noise at all. But somehow it was decided I was squawking, even though I didn’t know it.”

  “Amelix is our provider, Mommy,” Nami said seriously. “Amelix does not make mistakes.”

  That was the dogma. Though admitting it made Wanda’s heart hurt, Nami’s personality was terribly similar already to that of someone who had been reconditioned. The educational system was even more effective now than it had been in Wanda’s childhood. What would be the point in arguing against the system now? If Wanda said she thought otherwise, that Amelix was capable of error, she might plant a seed of dissension in Nami’s mind, a doubt. Nami would have the roots of a notion that perhaps the company wasn’t as infallible as it was made out to be. That might grow into discontent and then even to full-fledged nonconformity, which would get Nami Departed.

  Like her mother. Like her great-grandmother.

  “You’re right, honey. Amelix doesn’t make mistakes. I made a mistake. And I’m so, so, so sorry.”

  It didn’t matter whether I Departed or got reconditioned. Either way, she would have turned out the same. I knew that. I didn’t fight in the hope that she would be a different person in the end. I fought for the right to love her, truly and completely, as her mother. As myself.

  Wanda squeezed Nami as tightly as she could, pressing her forehead against the girl’s silky golden-brown hair. “How can I put a lifetime of real love and affection into this one moment?” Her whisper became increasingly high-pitched. “How can I load you with the care and advice you’ll need, put it into a little package for you to open up someday when you need it? Is there any way to make you see that you are my only love in the world, and that you are so special and wonderful and precious, even when you’re being teased, even when you feel all alone?” She kissed Nami’s head and sniffed, tightening her stomach to keep her own quiet crying from erupting into sobs. “Just keep me in your heart, and know that you are always in mine.”

  The apartment door opened and Davi entered, his eyes widening. “You didn’t pack a bag? You didn’t get anything ready?” Behind him were the two Unnamed that had escorted her here. They had waited in the hall while she sat with Nami, but now they were inside and no longer willing to wait for anything. Davi had just begun to dig through a closet when the Unnamed tore Nami away, the girl putting up not even the slightest resistance. They hoisted Wanda to her feet and yanked her toward the door. Davi dropped whatever he had clutched from the closet and grabbed at something in his jacket pocket, shoving it into her hand as she passed. “Casino chips, as much as I could collect from around the office. I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry.”

  Wanda tried to turn for one last look, but they held her too tightly. “Nami, I’m so sorry,” she called out, her face toward the ceiling. “I love you so much.”

  The elevator shot down into the basement where the Unnamed kept their offices and vehicles. They squeezed her into the back of a black truck where four others were already seated: one woman and one man, both of whom were also Departing, and two Unnamed guards. The two Unnamed who had dragged her down here got in up front, and the biocat engine began its low growl as they started moving.

  The Unnamed sat stiffly with blank faces, their black suits stretching over their chemically enhanced bulk. There was no reason for them to think about her at all. She was cargo, just garbage to be dumped. They did this every day. Each of the four Unnamed was more than twice Wanda’s size and carried what she supposed was some kind of mini machinegun. Each had been conditioned for automatic, unquestioning obedience to superiors, and each had probably thrown a hundred moms like Wanda out of this truck.

  They slowed, approaching one of the entertainment streets next to the Central Business District. She didn’t know which numbered zone this was. There was almost no way to tell. Towns and villages had been collapsing into the collective Zone ghetto for decades, and there were too many of them for anyone but the Feds to keep straight.

  There were people standing around on the street, even though the day was cold. They seemed to be watching and waiting, like she supposed they did every day, for an opportunity like this. Her eyes welled with tears, but the rest of her body was numb and unresponsive.

  She had to shake herself out of the shock, and fast. When she got out of this truck, the Zone dwellers would see her being unloaded and know she was newly Departed, defenseless fresh meat, carrying as much as she would ever again own.

  The truck stopped. The Unnamed next to her opened the door and stepped down, pulling Wanda out by her hair and flinging her behind him as he climbed back inside.

  She fell to the gravel, landing hard on her side. She forced herself to her feet as the other two newly Departed landed near her, all three of them practically glowing against the Zone’s grit in their Corporate Green office uniforms. As the black truck sped away, Wanda sprinted in the direction with the fewest people. Her legs burned and her chest hurt, but she didn’t slow down. Maybe the Zone toughs running at them would catch the others instead of her.

  Amelix Integrations Offices, Central Business District

  Gregor Kessler, DCR, answered his EI intercom. “Yes, Issac?”

  “Keiko Piccola is here to see you, sir. She says she has an urgent matter to discuss.”

  Kessler found himself gripping the edge of his Grown wood desk as if he were about to break off a chunk of it. Perfect Golden-skinned Keiko Piccola had already been directly responsible for four Departings from the Corporate Regulations Division since her new Accepted status nine months ago. Before that she’d been double promoted over her peers, and she was only twenty-five. Whatever evidence she was here to discuss today would probably lead to a fifth Departing. Saving Amelix all those salaries was good, but the division still had to meet deadlines and the extra demand was pushing the remaining employees to the edge of endurance. If his group wasn’t able to keep pace with the growing corporate regulations workload, Kessler himself could be the next to go.

  Keiko was proof that bein
g too zealous an employee was as destabilizing as being too jaded or too lazy. Reconditioning could fix jadedness and laziness, but there was no cure for ones like Keiko.

  “Have her wait,” he said. “I’ll tell you when to send her in.”

  At least Kessler still had authority over her and could still make her wait. Seeing her right away may have started her thinking of him as someone with too little to do.

  He made Keiko stay out in reception for more than half an hour, hoping she’d just go away, but knowing that she wouldn’t. Eventually he let her in and she stood, hands on knees and head down, with her back just straight enough to point her firm little breasts up at him from the scoop neck of her uniform. “Hello, Dr. Kessler, sir,” she said. “Thank you for seeing me today, sir.”

  “You know I’m busy, Keiko,” he said. “What do you have for me?”

  The girl raised her chin, briefly meeting his eyes. His EI recognized and opened her flagged page, playing a recording she’d made looking over the shoulder of a coworker: Eric Basali.

  Why she cared to attack this poor idiot, Kessler couldn’t fathom. He was no threat to her and he’d probably Depart soon without her help, anyway. Basali always turned in substandard work and was consistently reported by coworkers as being difficult and antisocial. In the video, he was writing with a pen in a little paper notebook. The angle made it hard to read every word, but Keiko had dubbed it with her own voice as he wrote, making it easier to follow.

  “… Why do we hide the most basic human traits like compassion and creativity? Why must we pretend to be nothing but machines in order to survive? It’s because while we ourselves are not machines, the organizations we form are. In order to function within them, we must surrender anything that makes us unique and alive, becoming fungible and disposable elements of the whole …”

  Like nearly everyone left in the company, Gregor Kessler had been reconditioned. Reconditioning had brought him to the ranks of the Accepted: those who were graced with true understanding that the work of Amelix was the work of the Lord, and trained to recognize the Lord’s work through all its manifestations within the company. Like all Accepted, he had occasionally been confronted with so-called arguments against that truth, but they had always been online and always from Accepted at other organizations trying to insist that their companies were closer to God. Those claims were ridiculous; Kessler was here because the Lord had created him for a purpose. He served Amelix, so Amelix, obviously, was his purpose. Therefore it must be true that Amelix was the Lord’s one true corporation.

  But Basali’s words here were more general, and they didn’t allow Kessler the luxury of an automatic defense. Instead of sliding through the passages in his mind the way speech from other Amelix Accepted did, what Basali said abraded his mind, trying to force it into unnatural patterns. How could basic human traits fail to conform to the Lord’s plan here at Amelix? Who could possibly believe the organization was nothing but machinery, when it was clearly the Lord’s most perfect creation?

  Kessler’s pathway amplification kicked in, compounding the already disturbing feelings the words had created until he felt his very existence seem to unravel into cold, empty, endless, meaningless space. He shuddered violently, leaning against the desk to keep himself upright. He swallowed and gritted his teeth, repeating one of the mantras from his training, to counter Basali’s blasphemous whining. “The Lord provides through Amelix. The Lord provides through Amelix. The Lord provides through Amelix.”

  The writing went on. Kessler stopped the video and closed the page. “How did you do this, Keiko? How did you review such toxic material and make this recording without becoming ill?”

  She came close to him, snuggling her breasts against his arm. “Does this please you, sir?” she asked in a voice slightly above a whisper. He nodded and she relaxed slightly, letting her body settle heavier against him. “Waste is a companywide crisis, sir,” she said. “For whatever reason, the Lord has seen fit to guide me in attacking it. This individual is wasting time and other resources. By pointing it out to my superiors, I am helping Amelix rid itself of dead weight. But even more important is the fact that what he’s writing is subversive and dangerous to Amelix, and possibly to our entire way of life.”

  “But how did you review it, specifically? How did you keep it from affecting you as you worked?”

  “I translated it, sir. I made myself analyze it in terms most supportive of Amelix’s position, rather than accepting the frame he used.”

  Kessler narrowed his eyes at her. “Give me an example.”

  “Well, sir, for this one I chose to see what he said as an acknowledgement of the company’s true strength. What Basali calls humanity and uniqueness and life are really just flaws, burrs that need to be polished off the pieces of God’s plan before they can all fit together into cosmic perfection. After they are removed, we are still human, unique, and alive, and those traits are confirmable by scientific evidence. Therefore, his assertion otherwise is clearly foolish.” She cocked her head slightly, obviously proud of her ability to do this, though her chin was lowered and her eyes were wide. “My recent reconditioning process gave me all the tools I need to work with this material without being poisoned by it, sir.”

  The sickness abated. Now his pathway amplification was back doing what it was supposed to do, reinforcing his commitment to the company and the Lord’s plan. “Amazing work, Keiko. Your devotion to this cause is quite evident. Very impressive. And I suspect that what you call translation can be useful in helping others who might be infected with these sorts of misguided constructions. I hope you saved those interpretations, as well.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Kessler,” she said quietly, close to his ear. “I didn’t record any translations, but I can do it quite quickly, if it pleases you. I do hope we can review more of this material together. You are so clearly my superior, sir, and I greatly value your guidance, on absolutely everything.”

  Kessler’s breath caught. With an ordinary employee this dynamic was obvious and expected: a simple trade of sexual submission for career advancement. With Keiko, though, there was always the threat of her turning on him, setting him up just to experience the thrill of watching his collapse.

  He was still her superior, though. He didn’t have to fear Keiko. The girl was newly reconditioned! He knew how to push buttons she didn’t yet know she had. He could take the deal she was offering, accepting her submission in exchange for his guidance, but only if he used every tool at his disposal to keep her completely under his control.

  “I’m happy to guide you, Keiko. Waste is a companywide crisis, as you say, but we wouldn’t want to condemn Mr. Basali unfairly and thus deprive Amelix of his skills. What if your interpretations are the true intention behind what he wrote there? Perhaps his real meaning has been skewed by poor writing ability, and he is actually doing the Lord’s work after all. Acting rashly could divest Amelix of what, with more consideration, would have proven to be a fully functional employee. I’ll tell you what. Let’s watch another clip, and I want you to translate it for me; interpret it as a comment favoring Amelix.”

  “Whatever you think is best, sir.” She stayed in physical contact with him and looked up into his eyes. His EI found another bookmark she’d tagged for him: another video of Basali writing, with Keiko’s voice reading along.

  The individual cannot compete for resources against an organized group, so in a world of organizations the individual cannot survive. Did the first colony-forming ants and bees mourn the inevitable loss of self? Did they train themselves to see the formicaries or hives as heaven and the outside as hell, or did the new societal structures create a hell from which they were the only escape?

  The words, generated by Kessler’s EI, hung before him as if suspended. He gestured as he spoke, though Keiko’s EI was probably projecting the words at a completely different angle. “Okay. How about this one?” He put an arm around her shoulder. What can we make out of it? Translate it for me.”
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br />   “Easy one, sir,” she said, running her palm along his thigh. “Inside Amelix is heaven, where we thrive. Outside Amelix is hell, where we suffer. It’s true, no matter how it came to be so. The ants and bees had their heaven, and now we have ours.”

  He sat down in his chair. “Very good. Start a document. We have his wording here, and you’re going to keep track of all the interpretations where it could be argued to benefit Amelix. That will be number one: Inside Amelix is heaven, outside Amelix is hell. We flourish in paradise or wither in the desert.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said. He watched her face slacken as she performed the mental machinations to create a document through her EI. “Done, sir.”

  “Good. Now do the first example again. How did you put it? Our surrender to Amelix polishes off the burrs and allows us to be perfect pieces of God’s plan. Match these first two with their original quotes.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kessler kept talking while she worked. Sometimes it was better to have her conscious mind distracted when he really wanted concepts to sink in deeply. “I hope you can see why you need my guidance. I am your superior, and as such, to you I am Amelix and Amelix is me. Disobedience to me would be disobedience to Amelix. This is a serious matter, and I know you can go right on being a good girl for me, can’t you, Keiko? You can keep on doing just what I say?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. I would like that very much.”

  He touched her knee.

  “Done, sir.” Her eyes met his. No pages were flagged.

  He ran a hand along her hip. She tried to sit on his lap. He pushed her off and she stood with her head bowed and her palms crossed over her upper thighs. Sighing, he hooked a finger in her belt, bringing her to her knees beside him.

  “Do you see how difficult it is to be fair?” he asked. She kept her head bowed. “Can you tell how inefficient these processes protecting fairness make us? Yet they are our duty to Amelix, to make sure no resources are wasted or discarded irresponsibly. You brought this question to me, which necessitates lots of review. You’re going to help me with that.”