Osborne held up a hand to stop him. "Napoli doesn’t know all of the facts, David, and neither do you, just yet. It’s what I’m here to tell you."
Hague choked off a retort at the interruption, but he wasn’t really surprised by her words. He knew that Osborne’s loyalty to the Villiers faction of Fuchi put her more in the loop about the corporation’s plans now that Richard Villiers seemed to be consolidating his hold on the corp. Hague was allied with the Yamana family, which dominated Fuchi Europe.
"What are you talking about?" he said finally. "What do you mean I don’t know all of the facts? Has Fuchi been keeping something ...
"
Osborne jumped in again before he could finish. "Not keeping something from you—just protecting our interests. Renraku isn’t the only corp with cards up its sleeve. Security on this was too tight to trust to anything but face-to-face communications. That’s why we’re talking in person. Now, will you listen for a moment?"
Hague swallowed his response and only nodded curtly. If Osborne noticed his annoyance at being kept in the dark, she didn’t show it. She just continued talking.
"The case against Renraku is more than just smoke and mirrors, David. There is real cause to believe they’ve violated the concords of the Court and that Lanier’s involvement is the key to it. We’ve got a lead on something that could blow the lid off this whole thing and implicate Renraku in serious violations of the balance of power. It’s the only explanation for what’s been happening."
Over the past year and a half, Renraku Computer Systems, one of the world’s three computer giants and a member of the
That was before a twist of fate put Miles Lanier on the Renraku Board of Directors. Lanier was a go-getter and an aggressive executive known for his take-no-prisoners attitude toward business. His skill and cunning were well known to Fuchi Industrial Electronics. Lanier had been Fuchi’s chief of internal security, the head of the company’s most sensitive and important security arrangements and the protector of its most vital information. That is, until he had defected to Renraku two years ago.
After Lanier’s defection, Renraku research and development suddenly began producing state-of-the-art computer technology that was blowing their competition away in the market. Their Matrix software and algorithms were outselling Mitsuhama’s by a good margin, and their computer hardware was threatening Fuchi’s dominance of the market, a first for Renraku.
The corp’s security had also increased to truly paranoid levels. Industrial espionage by the other corps, including Fuchi, had netted them some scraps of useful R&D data on Renraku’s latest developments, but gave them no clue about where the corporation was getting its phenomenal new products: no names of researchers or information on facilities turning out new technological breakthroughs. Fuchi naturally suspected that Renraku was conducting datasteal operations against them. But if they were, it was being done with such skill and finesse that Fuchi could find no evidence of them whatsoever.
Renraku was on a roll and there seemed to be no stopping them. The corporation’s annual report showed that they had already surpassed Mitsuhama in power and were quickly gaining on Fuchi’s position as the world's Number Two megacorp. Only the vast Saeder-Krupp
empire
was more powerful, and Hague suspected that even S-K’s dragon CEO Lofwyr had his concerns about Renraku. And that was why the
Not that the megacorporations had any problem with one of their number being successful and making money. The Court existed solely to assure that the various megacorporations might continue to do so. But the
That was why the Court had established the Concords, secret agreements between the great megacorporations to carefully maintain the balance of power. Better to be assured of slow and certain growth and control over the world’s markets than to risk the devastation unfettered competition could create. The corps agreed to certain rules by which they would play the game, but now it was suspected that Renraku was breaking those rules. It was highly possible that their acquisition of Miles Lanier was letting them conduct industrial espionage on a massive scale, allowing them to push new product onto the market well in advance of the competition and to know their competitors’ moves even before they made them.
"So we’re still accusing Renraku of violating the Concords?" Hague asked. It had happened before. Everyone knew it. Part of the point of having rules was so the megacorporations could find ways around them. Just as ordinary people broke the laws of their governments, so did the megacorporations occasionally break the laws of the
"Yes," Osborne said. "Renraku is trying to gain clear superiority in areas where Fuchi operates, and everyone knows Lanier has to be giving them something to help them do it. They’ve got to be stopped now, David, before this all gets out of control. I talked to Priault, and I can tell that even Saeder-Krupp is worried about this. Priault is a stone-face, but I could still read him."
"And if you’re right about Renraku and they refuse to abide by any sanctions the Court makes, you know what it will mean," Hague said. He was quiet for several long seconds before completing the terrible thought.
"Corporate war."
"It won’t come to that," Osborne replied tartly, obviously unwilling to even consider such a possibility. "Soon we’ll have the information we need to bring Lanier and Renraku down."
A smile crept back over her face as she tapped the datapad she was holding. "And Fuchi can be right there to pick up the pieces."
In
ancient
times
it
was
widely
believed
that
knowing
the
name
of
something
gave
you
control
over
that
person
or
thing
.
People
would
have
secret
names
known
only
to
themselves
and
to
their
closest
friends
and
family,
and
a
"
use
name
"
they
would
tell
to
the
world
at
large
.
In
this
way
they
protected
themselves
from
enemies
who
might
use
magic
against
them
.
Now
it
is
the
twenty-first
century
.
Magic
has
returned
to
the
world
and
there
is
a
new
culture
of
people
who
guard
their
names
.
They
hide
behind
so-called
"
street
names
"
to
conceal
their
true
identities
from
the
law
and
to
keep
their
real
names
out
of
the
massive
computer
systems
keeping
track
of
nearly
everyone
in
the
world
.
Even
the
pirate
users
of
the
computer
Matrix,
the
deckers,
make
use
of
false
names
to
cover
their
transactions
.
In
the
age
of
technology,
true
names
have
become
more
important
than
ever
.
—Mullins Chadwick,
Monkeytribe: A
Survival
Manual
for
Erect
Bipeds,
Putnam-Izumo,
I don’t know how long I keep driving, or where I drive to. I just need to get away from that place and the memories of the ghoul. My mind panics, but my body seems to know where it’s going, so I let it drive for a while. I’m some distance away—at least I think so—before I return to anything resembling rational thought and check out my surroundings.
I realize that driving around in an open van loaded with full body bags is probably a very bad idea, so I find an out-of-the-way alley where I park the van and leave it behind. I wonder if the body-snatchers or ghouls will find it again and try and make use of the bodies remaining inside. I’m tempted for a moment to find some way of blowing the whole van sky-high, creating a funeral pyre for those unknown people who fill the black vinyl bags. It’s a useless idea because I don’t have any means to do so and an explosion would be a sure way of attracting unwanted attention. In the end I just leave the van behind with a silent prayer that the spirits of its occupants are at rest.
Jamming my hands into my pockets, I walk carefully out of the alley, looking all around me for any signs of trouble. It’s still night and the city is alive all around me. I can see more lights and activity a few blocks ahead, along what looks like the main drag, the streets lit by the glow of neon signs, street lamps, and holograms flickering from badly tuned projectors in store fronts. The night air is cool, and the light on the street is inviting enough for me to head toward it. I pass through the shadows and cut through an alleyway to reach the strip.
The alley is filled with the heavy smell of food cooking. My stomach rumbles loud enough to be heard in the narrow alley, and I realize I have no idea how long since I last ate, but it seems like it must have been a long time. Thoughts of noodles and rice and vegetables fill my thoughts and make my mouth water.
I turn out of the alley and look into the scratched armor-plas window of a shop displaying some cheap trideo sets among all the other electronic junk for sale. One set is showing a piece of softcore pornography, the naked holographic figures writhing in slow motion through the static while the other set is tuned to a news channel where a plastic talking-head speaks in an evenly pitched, cheerful voice that sounds happy to tell you about the worst atrocities. I stop for a moment to watch.
"Locally, the stock market reports another active day of trading in which the Dow is up some seven points. Renraku Computer Systems stock continues to maintain the strongest increase following the company’s release of their latest algorithms for the development of sophisticated Matrix interface experiences. These algorithms form the basis for simsense and the virtual reality of the Matrix. A local Renraku spokesperson is quoted as saying ‘Renraku is redefining the state of the art.’ Other stock-market watchers in the Boston metroplex ..."
Boston
.
I’m
in
Boston
. That should mean something to me, but for some reason, it doesn’t. The voice on the trideo drones on about the opinions of men in suits regarding the mystic movements of the stock market and the advancements of Renraku and what the other megacorporations are going to do about it. An exterior shot shows the looming stock exchange building in the financial district of the crowded metroplex at night.
That’s when I notice the reflection looking back at me from the darkened window.
A young man with shaggy, dark hair.
He is thin and pale, and his eyes match the color of the purple bruises on his face and arms, a strange violet color that almost seems to glow from the dark glass. He’s wearing a black T-shirt with a scrawl of silver Japanese characters under a loose denim jacket with the sleeves torn off, a pair of much battered and patched jeans, and black, laced-up combat boots. The clothes are spotted with dark spatters of blood. Silver gleams from behind one ear, and I brush my fingers against the cold metal ring of the dataport implanted there, watching the reflection’s arm move as well. He’s me, and I’m not entirely sure I recognize him. It’s more like looking at a stranger, a phantom on the other side of the glass gazing out at me.
That’s when I start to realize I don’t really know who I am, and the realization hits me like an electric shock. How did I end up where the body-snatchers found me? Where am I going to go? Where do I live? What’s my name? I don’t know any of those things, but I know I should know them. There are breaks in my memory, like someone punched holes in my mind, leaving black gaps where remembrances used to be. I reach out to touch the glass with a trembling hand, and the stranger on the other side reaches out to me, his eyes wide and frightened.