Simon had a steady and
reliable job. And Aisling, throwing her life away for no reason. Forestall will
be next, but at least he’d have an excuse. It’s a rash of suicides, a cluster.
Maybe the hormone content of the water is off or something.
I downed a
second shot.
The apartment
shook with the stamping of feet as Jennings destroyed her last opponent. Bea
gave a petite, joyous clap of her hands.
“Are they killing
anyone special today?” I asked. I didn’t care. In fact, I’d rather not have
known.
“Malcolm Evans,
the spy!” she said with glee. “They’ll probably make him the last one.”
I shuddered.
“Aren’t you
excited?” she grinned.
Evans was a
Beta, a good one. He had been well respected, efficient and avaricious. He
worked in Acquisitions, luring disgruntled or undervalued employees from
competing corps (even from our own Karitzu, if he could get away with it), and
obtaining insider information from people willing to sell it.
The job was as
dangerous a one as you could get. Enemy Retention programs were ruthlessly
trying to stop you, feeding you disinformation while trying to trick you into
giving up your own secrets.
Evans had been
doing a great job, but he suffered from a disease that plagues most colleagues
at one point or another: he thought he wasn’t being paid enough. He was
approached by a man pretending to be a Hiragana Acquisitions agent. He
flattered Evans, told him that Ackerman didn’t appreciate him enough or
recognize his genius, and that a smaller corp like Hiragana understood his
needs much better.
Evans didn’t buy
it on the first pitch. He had been dissatisfied with Ackerman, for sure, but
they probably knew it. He made the guy for a Retention agent right away. But,
like any good Acquisitions operative, Evans kept pretending to be interested,
mining for information.
Then the agent
offered to have a meeting at Hiragana’s headquarters, and Evans’ interest was
aroused. He figured that not even the best Ackerman Retention agents could ever
set up a sting from the main offices of a hated rival like Hiragana. He
researched the people he’d meet with, the contracts he’d sign—everything was on
the up-and-up. They’d offered him more money than he’d ever make at Ackerman, a
position as an executive running their Acquisition Department, and a guarantee
against Ackerman retaliation.
He signed the
contract and they arrested him on the spot.
He had been
right, of course. Hiragana would never have let Ackerman do an operation from
their own HQ. But Retention had blackmailed a bunch of Hiragana officers and
promised to let them off the hook if they set up and executed the sting
themselves. They held dozens of meetings throughout the day, all with real
Hiragana employees and Hiragana branded contracts. By the time it was over,
seventeen colleagues were in the hands of Ackerman Retention.
But that was
just the start. Retention offered Evans a deal—pay off some of your debt by
becoming a stabber. Rat out your colleagues, and maybe we’ll let you live. For
four months he tried. He asked co-workers questions about their work habits,
personal lives, pet projects—all the while trying to find something he could
use to gain leverage. But he was desperate and clumsy, they all suspected him
right out of the gate. He started gathering whatever intelligence he could,
turning in confidential documents to help Retention in old cases or to start
new ones. They took it all, and then added espionage and spying to his list of
charges.
That’s the real
reason the hangings were so popular. Like watching a car wreck, it was
conclusive proof that, no matter how badly you screwed up your life, somebody
else had done it worse.
The television
screen faded out. The sound of booming Takio drums filled the air and the
spotlights came into view. In the sky was a blast of fireworks, and the stadium
lit up. Beatrice squealed as the ceremonies began.
For the last
fifteen years or so the
reliable job. And Aisling, throwing her life away for no reason. Forestall will
be next, but at least he’d have an excuse. It’s a rash of suicides, a cluster.
Maybe the hormone content of the water is off or something.
I downed a
second shot.
The apartment
shook with the stamping of feet as Jennings destroyed her last opponent. Bea
gave a petite, joyous clap of her hands.
“Are they killing
anyone special today?” I asked. I didn’t care. In fact, I’d rather not have
known.
“Malcolm Evans,
the spy!” she said with glee. “They’ll probably make him the last one.”
I shuddered.
“Aren’t you
excited?” she grinned.
Evans was a
Beta, a good one. He had been well respected, efficient and avaricious. He
worked in Acquisitions, luring disgruntled or undervalued employees from
competing corps (even from our own Karitzu, if he could get away with it), and
obtaining insider information from people willing to sell it.
The job was as
dangerous a one as you could get. Enemy Retention programs were ruthlessly
trying to stop you, feeding you disinformation while trying to trick you into
giving up your own secrets.
Evans had been
doing a great job, but he suffered from a disease that plagues most colleagues
at one point or another: he thought he wasn’t being paid enough. He was
approached by a man pretending to be a Hiragana Acquisitions agent. He
flattered Evans, told him that Ackerman didn’t appreciate him enough or
recognize his genius, and that a smaller corp like Hiragana understood his
needs much better.
Evans didn’t buy
it on the first pitch. He had been dissatisfied with Ackerman, for sure, but
they probably knew it. He made the guy for a Retention agent right away. But,
like any good Acquisitions operative, Evans kept pretending to be interested,
mining for information.
Then the agent
offered to have a meeting at Hiragana’s headquarters, and Evans’ interest was
aroused. He figured that not even the best Ackerman Retention agents could ever
set up a sting from the main offices of a hated rival like Hiragana. He
researched the people he’d meet with, the contracts he’d sign—everything was on
the up-and-up. They’d offered him more money than he’d ever make at Ackerman, a
position as an executive running their Acquisition Department, and a guarantee
against Ackerman retaliation.
He signed the
contract and they arrested him on the spot.
He had been
right, of course. Hiragana would never have let Ackerman do an operation from
their own HQ. But Retention had blackmailed a bunch of Hiragana officers and
promised to let them off the hook if they set up and executed the sting
themselves. They held dozens of meetings throughout the day, all with real
Hiragana employees and Hiragana branded contracts. By the time it was over,
seventeen colleagues were in the hands of Ackerman Retention.
But that was
just the start. Retention offered Evans a deal—pay off some of your debt by
becoming a stabber. Rat out your colleagues, and maybe we’ll let you live. For
four months he tried. He asked co-workers questions about their work habits,
personal lives, pet projects—all the while trying to find something he could
use to gain leverage. But he was desperate and clumsy, they all suspected him
right out of the gate. He started gathering whatever intelligence he could,
turning in confidential documents to help Retention in old cases or to start
new ones. They took it all, and then added espionage and spying to his list of
charges.
That’s the real
reason the hangings were so popular. Like watching a car wreck, it was
conclusive proof that, no matter how badly you screwed up your life, somebody
else had done it worse.
The television
screen faded out. The sound of booming Takio drums filled the air and the
spotlights came into view. In the sky was a blast of fireworks, and the stadium
lit up. Beatrice squealed as the ceremonies began.
For the last
fifteen years or so the
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