Collective Mind (8 page)

Isaac
and Bikie’s chosen land of residence also had a chance to experience this
miraculous quality of Hollywood. In 1956 the wedding of the famous American
film star Grace Kelly and the Prince of Monaco brought floods of tourists from
all over the world to the Principality instantly making it a beneficiary of the
world’s “Dream Factory”.

Whether
a beautiful life or drama, cops who are corrupt or honest, the mafia or
patriotism, Hollywood has always steered people’s hearts and minds any way it
liked, and the movie “Energy of Prison” helped many skeptics change their mind
about UNICOMA and increased the flow of people wishing to download their
creativity.

Of
course, there were still exceptions. There were not very many donors among
Russian Orthodox Christians and Israelis. Israel and Silicon Valley rapidly
lost their positions on the high-tech market, surrendering leadership to
Collective Mind.

The
opposition to UNICOMA was gradually disappearing. The opponents of downloading
and pooling creativity did not have serious arguments in any case. There were
no complaints either, and the number of positive achievements was immense.
UNICOMA called the critics retrograde paranoiacs, emphasizing that the
Inquisition with its unsubstantiated condemnations is long gone and now is
about time to get used to a new, progressive order of things.

It
took a long time for the official Church to come up with a specific position;
by and large it remained neutral. The views of different faiths completely
split even within a single denomination, believers diverged on the issue of
creativity downloading. Admittedly, UNICOMA tried to show its good intentions
with generous donations and support to all religions. Nevertheless, there were
some who called downloading of creativity a sale of the human core, they
uttered warnings and called for a ban, but the majority saw it as the fusion of
souls and a rapprochement with God, because people became kind and smiling, happy
and free from suffering. It was difficult to go against the fact that the world
was being purged of a great number of sins.

“You
know what?” Bikie said eventually. “Why don’t I phone this Charles anyway? The
guy with the Harley. Maybe he’ll be OK. We won’t lose anything, and I promise
to be very careful. And if it’s a flop – we’ll go to Wolanski.”

For
the sake of an amicable, collaborative relationship Isaac did not argue.

Bikie
dialed the number and introduced himself. He said he was from a local club and
would like to meet Charles to talk about the rare Harley model that Charles
owned and take a few photos for the club’s site. Everything went smoothly and
they agreed on seven o’clock that evening. Bikie made thorough preparations. He
found a pair of old, tattered jeans, a black t-shirt with the sleeves crudely
torn off and a biker jacket. He put on a bandana with a red Harley Davidson
logo and a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses. He looked really menacing and Isaac
liked it. For this special occasion Bikie washed his bike and pulled out a
pretty good Leica camera from somewhere.

“You
know what I think, why don’t you skip the meeting and go straight to Hollywood?
They’ll put you in the movies without any screen-tests. Did you know that
Harrison Ford worked as a carpenter up until he was spotted by George Lucas?
When you end up meeting Lucas or Tarantino, at least text me to say that Bikie
won’t be back.”

Bikie
smiled his huge, broad smile and winked. He was happy with the way he looked
too. He had taken his time, dressing, with loving care. He didn’t get to go
into town dolled up like this very often.

“Admit
it, Bikie, you chose this candidate especially so you could have a costume
party.”

 “You're
the Carnival! The time will come when I’ll always be dressed like this. On a
Harley, with a busty blonde on back. You’ll see.”

“Land
this guy for us first. And then I promise you two busty blondes.”

“Everything
will be okay. Don’t shit yourself!”

Hours
later Bikie returned to the apartment quite despondent.

“First
of all, that asshole was almost an hour late,” he told Isaac disappointedly.
“Then he spent a solid hour telling me how fucking cool he was. He didn’t let
me get a word in, peacocking his plumage like he was trying to impress some
bimbo. I soon realized he was a trashy banker after all; the speedometer on his
super-rare Harley didn’t even have a thousand kilometers on it. A beautiful
thing but just gathering dust. Although better to gather dust than carry a dumb
fuck like that. I tried about ten times to start a conversation about OE and
COMA, but the dick kept harping on about how bored he is and what he does to
avoid getting rusty: Saint Barth, the Maldives, Bora-Bora, that sort of crap.
He told me about all his chicks and how crazy they all about him. Maybe there’s
some kind of error in your data base? Or is all his creativity wasted on his
stupid stories? I’m never seen such a clown before. “

“Don’t
let it bother you, Bikie, you looked like a million dollars, so he spread his
plumage to impress you”

Bikie
brightened up a bit.

“No
shit, Isaac, you’re one of the few normal guys I’ve met just recently. They’ve
all gone cuckoo. Rushing about, no clue what they want in life. No goals, no
ideals. Cardboard people. Let’s do some booze today, what you say? Got any more
whisky?”

“No
whisky, but there’s some awesome Seychelles rum.”

“Never
heard of that kind, but rum’s even better. Tomorrow we’ll get round to this
Wolanski of yours. And I promise to take it completely seriously. We can’t just
go visiting anyone and drawing them into our plans. That way we could come
unstuck. We don’t need anyone else. A bit of money won’t hurt, but we’ll
somehow manage the rest...”

That
night, drinking and reasoning, Isaac suddenly realized that is was not just the
pure idea that was guiding him, but anger and revanchism for not being able to
find his place in this society. His failures, hard times with Vicky, his
poverty. Looking at rageful Bikie he for a second saw himself, his feeling in
the day of the attack. The failure with Charles has got his companion seriously
wound up – Bikie was so full of hate towards Coma that he even started to deny
its undoubtful achievements. Isaac suddenly felt scared to have this weird
outcast as his only ally, whose aggression made him actually defend Coma, his
enemy. As he was getting drunk his thoughts started to scatter. Finally, having
decided this all to be but a moment of weakness, he chased the unbidden doubts
away.

“Good
morning, could I see Peter Wolanski, please?”

The
young guy who had opened the door in the gate looked at Isaac closely and
enquired politely:

“Who’s
asking for him… and on what business?”

“My
name is Isaac Leroy and I’m here on a personal matter.”

The
young guy looked Isaac up and down again, cast a glance at his scooter and
opened the door wider.

“We-ell,
all ri-ight,” he said uncertainly, stretching out the words. “Come in,” he
added.

He
moved aside to let Isaac through.

The
house itself was not large, and set on a wide, flat plot of ground – a rarity
in the Cap d’Ail district. Six massive, dark-red columns, two of which ran down
into a beautiful, sky-blue swimming pool. Windows down to the floor, lots of
glass, lots of clear light and fresh air. The obligatory pampered palms trees
on the grounds and lots of olive trees. A magnificent view of the sea. If
someone lived in a villa like this, their life had come together very nicely.
Through the glass walls Isaac saw a collection of modern art, both paintings
and sculptures. He didn’t know much about artwork, but even he recognized one
of the works as an Andy Warhol print.

“He’s
sitting pretty,” thought Isaac. “It’s a shame my parents weren’t rich. But
never mind, I’ll make it anyway.”

“Sit
here,” the young guy told Isaac, pointing to a glass table surrounded by wicker
furniture. “Well, I’m listening; tell what this personal matter you have for me
is. I’m Peter Wolanski.”

Of
course, Isaac had realized immediately that it was Peter himself who opened the
gate. Although he hadn’t found a photo on the internet, the young guy was the
right age, plus he had an accent. From the dossier Isaac remembered that Peter
had no brothers or sisters, and this guy had studied him too closely to be
simply an acquaintance or friend of the villa’s owner. Isaac had been right to
pin on his scientific society badge from university. Peter was clearly familiar
with the badge and it had a favorable effect.

“So
what exactly brings you to see me?”

“I
just wanted to meet you. And maybe make friends. We went to the same
university, although at different time. And we’re members of the same
scientific society. I’m an inventor, by the way.”

“You
are? And what have you invented? And what’s the point of us becoming friends?”

“I’ve
developed a couple of gadgets. Right now I’m planning to sell one of them.”

“Not
to me, I hope?” Wolanski enquired.

“Of
course not,” Isaac smiled. “Although you’re capable of buying, I’m not here to
sell you anything…”

“Well,
that’s splendid,” Peter put in.

“The
reason for my coming Peter…May I call you Peter?” Peter nodded.

“Is
to invite you to join a recently formed, let’s say… scientific society.”

“A
scientific society? Interesting especially in times like these. What society is
that?”

“Obviously
you’re not a Happy,” said Isaac, testing the waters. “They never show so much
curiosity.”

Peter’s
face wrinkled up slightly in a grimace of obvious revulsion.

“Of
course I’m not a Happy. I don’t have much faith in that piece of wishful
thinking. And apart from that, it was a condition of my father’s will that no
one in the Wolanski family should become a downloader. Not to mention that it’s
also the fundamental condition of my inheritance,” Peter smiled ironically.

“I’m
no fan of COMA either, although my rating is as much as 28015 HIT.”

“How
much?” Peter asked in amazement. In fact Isaac’s rating was more than twice as
high, but he had named the specific figure that was Peter’s level.

“Twenty-eight
thousand and fifteen,” Isaac rapped out, articulating each figure distinctly.

“Incredible…
How did you find out my rating?”

“Ah,
this guy’s no fool,” Isaac thought to himself. “No wonder he’s a leader. No
smokescreen for long with someone like this, better to try speaking more
openly, or else he would sense a lie or a trick, wouldn’t believe and might
even hand you over to the police.”

“Information
came my way…” Isaac paused significantly, “from a very reliable source.”

“What
information? How?”

Isaac
wondered whether to tell him or not. There was a pause.

“Okay,
all right. You don’t have to tell me. For now. Perhaps I don’t want to know
anything about it.” Peter thought for a moment and added: “But since you’re
here on a personal matter, and this is the first time I’ve seen you, I don’t
promise to answer questions either.”

This
made Isaac feel a little uneasy, his thoughts scattering.

“I’ve
read your student blog. I must say, you’re not very fond of COMA. And I’m
planning to go and download, so I decided to get some advice from people who
are well up on this,” Isaac lied.

“Rubbish!
For that you can log into the internet without ever leaving home. Good bye.”

“Wait!
I’ve invented this,” said Isaac, changing the subject and putting the V-Rain on
the table. “Turn on the lawn sprinkler and you’ll see how it works.”

“We’ll
get soaked.”

“I
don’t think so,” Isaac responded with a smile.

Peter
took a remote control out of his pocket and turned on the sprinkler. Isaac
neatly pressed the “on” button, and not a single drop fell on them or the table
between them.

“Some
gadget! That’s really cool.” Peter was impressed.

“The
range of action without increasing the size of the device is four meters, from
four to five meters away ten per cent of the drops get through.”

“Yes,
any restaurant would pay a heap of money for that gismo, it would let them keep
the same number of tables out during a rainy spell.”

Now
it was Isaac’s turn to sit there open-mouthed. Well done, Peter. Until this
moment it hadn’t even occurred to Isaac to sell the device to restaurants.

“You’re
right. You and I have just demonstrated the possibility of collective intellect
without any downloading of energy.”

“Isaac,
do you want to hear me say that I don’t like COMA? Well, I don’t. What else?’

“No,
Peter, I want to know just how much you dislike COMA.”

“I
dislike it very much.”

“And
I hate it fiercely. And that is the purpose of my visit.”

 “I
don’t feel fierce hatred, but I sense that this whole business will end badly.”

“Perhaps
very badly indeed. It’s an epidemic. And epidemics have to be…”

“Halted?”
asked Peter, again catching Isaac’s thought in mid-phrase.

“Yes,
and that’s the goal of our scientific society.”

Isaac
liked Peter. What a pleasure it really was to talk to an intelligent
individual. Memories of Pascal came flooding back.

“Don’t
be afraid, tell me.” – Peter’s hint brought Isaac back to reality.

“You
remind me of a friend of mine. He understood everything before I finished
saying it too.

“Did
he die?”

“To
some extent. He’s a brainless Veggie now.”

“Well,
it happens. What I dislike about this business is the general degeneration. And
it’s very strange that UNICOMA doesn’t publish statistics on the children born
to Veggies. They publish all sorts of things, but they don’t disclose that
information. I rummaged in the Internet recently and discovered that the
Veggies’ kids are all Veggies too. They’re born straight away without any
orange energy. UNICOMA is searching for the reason, for a cure. Now that it’s
surfaced, they don’t try to conceal the fact any more. They say this is a new
problem, but sooner or later they’ll fix it.”

“Yes,
I read that too. Just how they intend to fix it isn’t clear. An energy
transplant? They have the technology but there’s a lot they don’t know about
it. I don’t think they’ll be able to develop it further in the near future
without Link.”

“They’re
hoping it’s a developmental thing and the energy will come. And some children,
just a few, are born with some creativity. After all, the oldest child born to
two Happies is still only five. Anyway, have I answered your question? Drop
this circus act and tell me what you came for, or is the answer already enough
for you?

“They
really do not understand all about the system, because they haven’t downloaded
Professor Link. This is something I know for sure”- Isaac added emphatically.

“You
suppose so?”

“I
know so”.

“Wow!
How could you know that?” - Wolansky’s intonation told him he can stop worrying
to be kicked out without finishing.

Isaac
couldn’t tell Pierre about Link yet, that he had seen the precise statistics on
newborn children. Yes, some children did have creativity, which was true. Only
no one had done a DNA analysis. It wasn’t certain that mum and dad were both
Veggies. After all, there were enough cuckolds around and maybe UNICOMA had
implanted embryos from normal people in Veggie women, who could tell? The
important thing was that the conversation with Peter Wolanski was encouraging
and he felt he could actually start talking.

“Put
it this way, now I’m prepared to ask… not just to ask my question, but to
explain my idea…”

Peter
leaned forward, clearly eager to know.

“I
want to destroy this technology. Demolish the system. Destroy it physically or
ideologically. Or invent some kind of virus. I want to stop UNICOMA and the
wholesale stupefaction.”

“And
how do you intend to do it? Is this a plan or just a naked idea?”

“An
idea Peter, as yet it’s only an idea. No plan. But you have to fight fire with
fire. I want to oppose collective intellect with collective intellect. But
living one. I’m putting together a team and looking for fellow thinkers to set
the human race back on its previous path. That’s my scientific society.”

“And
you came to me with this?”

Peter
was clearly astounded at the scale of the concept. He could see that Isaac
wasn’t joking and he wasn’t insane. Which meant he was absolute serious. Seeing
Peter’s response, Isaac regretted that the idea of the scientific society had
occurred to him too late. If it had come sooner, perhaps he could have reached
an arrangement with Michelle Blanche.

“You’re
crazy because it’s impossible. You’re a genius, if you pull it off,” Wolanski
declared.

“Let’s
just say my rating is 57,555, and I’m by no means the biggest brain box. There
are heavier people than that. Did you hear about the terrorist attack at the
Monaco’s COMA? I’m the fifth hostage that Elvis took, but they didn’t write
anything about me. The police took me for an accomplice at first, but when they
figured out what I was, they let me go. The moment had passed, the journalists
had lost interest, so I was left in the shade I learned something from that
story, literally and metaphorically. First, I’ll never set foot in that place
again, secondly I decided to do everything I could to stop the Agency, and
thirdly, I ended up with the memory of the branch’s central computer, and there
was some intriguing stuff in it. Your rating, for instance and not just yours,
but hundreds of people’s: brief CVs and all sorts of information that basically
make it possible to find others who think like me. COMA is powerful, but don’t
forget that the technology was invented by one man. Who, by the way, has not
become a Veggie.”

“Now
I get it. I must say you intrigued me when you mentioned my rating. That really
got me interested.”

“And
I’ve come to you for specific help.”

“What
kind?”

“I
need money. I have no resources to implement my plan. I’ve left my job and the
bank is about to foreclose on my apartment. From the list of people that came
my way, you’re not the only one with money, but you’re one of those who have
criticized the system openly. Some of the rich people have already moved to
somewhere else, some don’t look trustworthy, some have already gone bust. Some
are religious or too law-abiding. Basically, there aren’t all that many options
but there are some. You and I are the same age, that’s already a plus. Apart
from the money, knowledge is important. You’re a chemist and who knows, we might
have to blow something up or dissolve something. I don’t have a clue how the
technology works. It’s the closest kept secret in the world. But Link is the
one who does.”

“Mmm,
this is very sudden. And you only want money?” Peter’s voice sounded a bit disappointed.
“And has anybody else agreed to help you?”

“Yes,
but we’d better consider that I’m alone.”

“Well
then, all right. That’s even better.”

“And
I’ll give you back the money when I sell my invention.”

Peter
leaned back pensively in his chair.

“I’m
no supporter of the system, but I’d never thought seriously about wrecking it.
I have to think about it.”