The Unincorporated Man (35 page)

“OK,” he said, “the whole idea of man as property is making my head spin.”

“Understandable,” said Neela, smiling sympathetically. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Mardi Gras.”

“Right,” she agreed, “Mardi Gras. Justin, when the trial is over I want to take you someplace. Normally we go there as children, at about age seven or eight. It’s one of the few laws we actually have.”

“What is it? A monument?”

“Not a monument,” she answered, with palpable solemnity, “a memorial.”

The ability to enforce law is the first goal of government. The ability to apply law consistently and sparingly is the ultimate goal of government.

—EVAN RICKS, SECOND INAUGURAL ADDRESS

Justin had been waiting for this day… the day when the lawyers across the table realized that he and Manny had no intention of making any sort of deal with GCI. The weeks of negotiations and memos back and forth had been a ruse. When Manny had first suggested the tactic, Justin had been apprehensive. But it was paying off now. GCI’s considerable legal talent had been building arguments based on obscure case law for justifying the percentage they should receive. They hadn’t considered that Justin would never consider settling. It was a blind spot in their thinking.
No—more than just a blind spot
, thought Justin,
a blind acre
. In his “new” world, Justin realized, society in general and GCI in particular could not possibly grasp that someone
would not want to incorporate
. The idea of personal incorporation had been such a mainstay and for so long—well over two centuries—that Justin’s defense would be equally as incomprehensible to society.

Manny began his opening statement.

“Your Honor, it has been the contention that this trial is about share of stock. The corporation involved feels that since the land Mr. Cord was found on was GCI land, they have a claim to his stock. The corporation involved feels that since the clinic Mr. Cord was revived in was a GCI clinic, they have a claim to his stock. The corporation feels that since a GCI staff member cared for Mr. Cord, they have a claim to his stock. Well, here’s an interesting little fact,” said Manny, emphasizing each word, “Mr… . Cord… has… no… stock. Let me repeat that and let that simple fact sink in. Mr. Cord has no stock. Not only does Mr. Cord have no stock, but GCI has no legal standing whatsoever to require him to incorporate for the sole purpose of giving stock to GCI. I will call witnesses and bring financial evidence that GCI not only has suffered no financial burden from Mr. Cord being awakened but,
on the contrary
, has made quite a handsome profit. Incorporation’s purpose is to serve a social good, not enable already wealthy corporations to gain access to more wealth they do not deserve. They deserve
nothing
from my client, and nothing is what they should receive.”

Manny had started off in a low, calm voice, but throughout his opening statement had varied his tone and volume until he had reached an impassioned crescendo. It was only when the courtroom realized that he was done speaking that an almost spontaneous burst of applause broke out. It took the judge over a minute to restore order.

“Mr. Black,” the judge cautioned, “your oratorical talents will not impress me. I am not a jury and care only for your legal, not verbal, skills. Do I make myself clear?”

“Of course, Your Honor.”

“Ms. Delgado, we will hear opening statements for GCI.”

The head of Legal was frantically consulting with her fellow lawyers, and seemed not to have heard the judge.

“Ms. Delgado,” barked the judge, “if you please!”

GCI’s Legal head slowly rose from her table. “Your Honor, if it please the court, we request a,” she leaned over and confirmed a number from her subordinate, “six-hour recess.”

“Whatever for, Ms. Delgado?”

“Your Honor, we were led to believe that the nature of this trial would be… less dogmatic, and wish to check some facts, given the opening statement by Mr. Cord’s attorney.”

“You’ve had two weeks since declaratory statements were given. Ms. Delgado, if you feel you were misled by the defense, then that is your problem and not the court’s. We will proceed with trial or you will default. Do I make myself clear?”

Council was trapped, and she knew it. “Perfectly,” she answered.

Manny raised his voice. “Your Honor, we are ready to call our first witness.”

Judge Farber looked over at the GCI table.

“I will proceed with my opening statement,” Ms. Delgado said tersely. She then gave a long, obviously improvised, and disjointed speech—even going so far as to argue against a point that the defense had never actually made. Eventually she found her way back on track. It was clear that Manny’s strategy had paid off. What wasn’t clear, and what Manny and Justin were hoping for, was whether or not their strategy could keep GCI off balance for the trial’s remainder.

From Justin’s perspective the next few days seemed a blur of questions, mostly coming from Manny Black:

Mr. Sambianco, how many credits did GCI receive for Mr. Cord’s revival?

“Ten million.”

Dr. Gillette, what would you say was the most expensive revival you’ve ever participated in?

“Four hundred and eighty thousand credits.”

Dr. Wang, were there any sorts of complications in Mr. Cord’s revival?

“None.”

Mr. Kline, as an expert in land ownership, would you say that Mr. Cord’s claim to ownership of the No Timbers mine would entitle him to challenge the claim of GCI?

“Indeed, yes. GCI may be able to make a monetary claim for any fees or liabilities paid on the property itself, but, in my expert opinion, the land still belongs to Justin Cord.”

The trial’s third day was ending when Hektor approached GCI’s first chair and their Legal division head, Janet Delgado. She was seated in the courthouse cafeteria, reviewing some documents. He slid a small dataplaque in front of her. She looked up to see who had interrupted her rare moment of silence. When she saw who it was, she slid the plaque back to Hektor without bothering to read it.

“I’m busy, Sambianco.”

“I strongly suggest you read it,” said Hektor.

“Well, I strongly suggest you piss off.”

“Janet,” he responded with vicious charm, “you’re nose-diving the trial; what have you got to lose?”

“Screw you, Sambianco,” she said, with a voice so even-keeled it made Hektor blink, “and we’re not on a first-name basis.”

“Janet,” he answered, choosing to ignore her directive, “you’ve lost. You know it, and I know it. It’s the biggest trial GCI has been in since we leveraged AmEx out of those lunar options.”

“Bullshit. That was worth billions.”

“It’s not the money, Janet. It was never about the money. This trial’s important because of the ramifications it could have.”

Janet stopped reading and looked up, piqued. “What are you talking about now, Sambianco?”

“I don’t have time to go into details, but the bottom line is that Cord hates us, and the longer this trial takes the more dangerous he becomes.”

“What are you trying to pull, Sambianco?” she challenged. “You yourself said at the board meeting that you thought the trial should take a long time. Why the change of heart?”

“Not trial, Janet. Pretrial motions.”

“Whatever,” she spat back.

“Janet, no one at that board meeting wanted to hear what I had to say. They just wanted to formalize my getting canned. I do, however, remember saying we should keep him ‘engaged.’ Had I had my druthers it would have been in pretrial motions and not in an actual trial—that, you chose to plow ahead with.”

“Why?” she asked, not wanting to acknowledge it but having to admit she was intrigued.

“Why what?”

“Why wouldn’t you have gone to trial?”

“Because, my dear girl, I knew, as you’re in the process of finding out, that any attempt to negotiate with Justin, especially about incorporation, would fail. He can’t incorporate, not like this. I knew if you went to trial you’d lose. However, in pretrial motions we could have kept him harried and harassed for years. And then, in
our
time and
our
choosing, after his weaknesses were exposed, we could have forced a favorable settlement on him… that’s why.”

Hektor leaned back, clearly proud to have finally been able to tell someone of his never-to-be plan. He could also see by her eyes that Janet got it, too. Or, to be more precise, got
him
.

“OK, Sambianco, I’ll give you that it makes for interesting court babble. But that still doesn’t take away from the fact that Justin Cord doesn’t hate
us
, he hates
you
.”

“He doesn’t know the difference,” Hektor sighed. “Either way you’ll have to agree the trial’s starting to stink. And my guess is you’re beginning to feel the pressure… externally as well as internally.”

Her silence was all the answer Hektor needed to continue.

“Alright, Janet, think about it. Who was against going to trial?” The question’s rhetorical nature again left Janet silent.

“And,” continued Hektor, “who not only put his whole career on the line by saying this idea stunk, but is now also in the process of being proven right?”

Hektor waited. He needed for Janet to arrive at the answer on her own—to realize that he was not a dead subject at GCI but was likely to be the only man to come out of the trial still standing… even if on thin legs.

“Assuming we both agree that this trial is lost, there is something we can salvage for the future.”

“What?”

“We need Justin to hate us more than he does already, and the easiest way for that to happen is for us to use the data contained on this plaque.”

He gently slid the plaque back across the table so that it was directly in front of her. Janet picked it up and quickly scanned its contents.

“It’s interesting, Hektor, but it won’t help us win.”

Hektor smirked. “It doesn’t have to. Just let me have Justin on the stand for ten minutes—twenty, tops—and I promise I will use whatever renewed influence I have to cushion your fall.”

“My fall?” she repeated, astonished.

“Yes, Janet. Your fall. If you need a minute to let it all sink in I’ll be glad to give it, but you’re a smart girl, aren’t you? And you didn’t get this far by not rolling the political die, and rolling them quite well, I might add.”

Janet acknowledged the compliment with a dour expression.

“So, my dear girl,” continued Hektor, “do we or do we not have a deal?”

Janet thought about it for a moment, sighed, and slowly nodded her agreement.

“Oh, one more thing,” added Hektor.

“Yes?” asked Janet, knowing full well that what he was about to reveal was in no way, shape, or form an afterthought.

“Did you notice,” asked Hektor, “that Mr. Cord and Dr. Harper are very… how shall I put this? . . . mmm, comfortable together?” He finished his coffee, turned around, and headed back into the gathering crowd.

Janet tried to figure out what he meant. Then one eyebrow went up as the salacious implications became clear. She activated her handphone and called one of her underlings with connections to the media. “Clyde, this is Legal. Get me a team to review all media images of Dr. Harper and Justin Cord together. I’ll call tonight with full details.”

She disconnected and smiled as she thought back on her conversation with Hektor. There was a good deal of smart in the man, she realized. There was also a good deal of evil. She’d watch her back.

Justin pulled at Manny’s sleeve and whispered to him, “Why is Sambianco acting as lead lawyer now?” Manny gave him a shrug.

“It may have something to do with that Sebastian Blancano fellow who used to work for you all those years ago,” offered Manny.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I’ve been spending quite a bit of your money researching your past. But I don’t have anything close to the resources of GCI. I do, however, know that GCI found something out about your old assistant.”

“Shouldn’t all that be public record?”

“Justin, the population of the Earth went from eight billion to two billion in twenty years. We suffered economic, social, and cultural collapse, not to mention some minor nuclear wars and the release of some very nasty biogerms. On top of which, the VR plague hit full force. Much of what you would call public record was lost. Or the indexing and contents files were lost. There are whole caverns filled with computer disks jam-packed with useless, and in many cases, degraded information. Now, if someone wishes, they can review and sort the data into modern database formats for use on the Neuro, but any information so sorted is considered property.”

“But isn’t it still public record?”

“No, it’s garbage until someone takes the time, effort, and money to retrieve it. Surely you don’t think they would do it for free?”

“What about the public good?”

“Justin, you of all people should know that the public good is almost never served by robbing someone of their time or money.”

Justin had to laugh. Manny was, of course, correct. If Justin had a dime for every change to a blueprint he’d had to make for the “public” good.

“I don’t suppose you can get them to share what they have on Sebastian using disclosure?”

“Not in a civil trial. Besides, I have the feeling Mr. Sambianco is about to disclose everything.”

As if on cue, Hektor stood up.

“Your Honor, I would like to call to the stand… ,” he paused for effect, “Justin Cord.”

A murmur raced through the crowd. Justin looked at Manny for guidance. But it was obvious that Manny had no idea what Hektor was up to. Justin should have felt better that instead of seeing fear or panic in Manny’s eyes he saw the gleam of combative respect. With Manny’s encouragement, Justin approached and took the stand.

The court clerk held up a thin, hardcover book of which Justin was able to make out the title. It read
The Alaskan/Terran Constitution with Amendments
.

“Justin Cord,” bellowed the clerk, “do you affirm that you understand that your biophysical state has been calibrated, and any lie, obfuscation, or omission of pertinent fact, stated or unstated knowingly, will in all likelihood be detected?”