Stand on Zanzibar (36 page)

He looked at the pale palms of his hands and wondered how heavy the future of an entire country might weigh.

At intervals he uttered a mechanical hullo.

*   *   *

Sharp on time Old GT herself came in, attended as usual by a secretary who was human but so strung about with portable equipment as to make him effectively an extension of the corporation’s massive information-processing resources up to and including Shalmaneser. Behind there followed Hamilcar Waterford, the treasurer, and just after him E. Prosper Rankin, the company secretary. As they took their seats a taut silence filled the room.

“This extraordinary meeting of the board,” Old GT began without ado, “has been called to receive and vote on a special report from the vice-president in charge of projects and planning. Two non-members of the board are also present: Mr. Elihu Masters, U. S. Ambassador to Beninia, and Dr. Raphael Corning of the State Department. Those in favour of their continuing presence—?”

Norman fumbled for the “aye” button on his throne. On the front panel of Old GT’s a pattern of lights, all green, displayed the result of the vote.

“Thank you. Rex, will you introduce the report?”

Old GT sat back and crossed her arms on her bosom. For the first time he could recall, Norman decided that her manner was smug. And then he wondered whether he could have avoided acting the same way if he had had the vision and persistence to achieve such tremendous personal power.

There are odds against Aframs, but there are odds against women too, and they’re a bigger minority group than we are!

Rex Foster-Stern cleared his throat. “Background,” he said. “Beninia faces a crisis on the impending retirement of President Zadkiel Obomi. On his demise or vacation of his post two consequences are possible. A civil conflict over the succession is the less likely in view of the exceptionally peaceful course of events there since independence. The probabilities are weighted in favour of its powerful African neighbours attempting to annex its territory. Intervention by a third party may prevent this by providing them with a common target for recriminations, and State wishes to try this.

“A parallel situation arose when the Sulu Archipelago seceded from the Philippine Republic. As you know, the solution of integrating those islands into our country as the State of Isola did not lead to the desired result, pacification of the area. Moreover in the case of Isola the conflicting parties included an enemy acceptable to public opinion, the Chinese. As neither the Dahomalians nor the RUNGs are a military threat to us intervention on the Isolan pattern would be resented as an unnecessary waste of our resources.

“However, Ambassador Masters has hit on a feasible alternative: to integrate Beninia not into our national but into our commercial orbit, and this is the proposal we are going to ask you to approve today.

“Beninia offers a source of inexpensive and potentially skilled labour admirably sited for expansion into the hinterland. What is more, it’s equally well located to process raw materials derived from the so-far unexploited mineral deposits discovered by MAMP.

“You will have seen from our briefing summary that the predicted turnover of this operation is comparable to that of a national budget and the scheme will not be completed until 2060. Despite the scale of it, however, evaluation of even the most minor details has proved to be possible and all information in your briefing has been thoroughly explored by Shalmaneser as a hypothetical case. Without his favourable verdict we’d not have presented the report.”

“Thank you, Rex,” Old GT said. “I see question lights going on in several places—kindly wait until we’ve heard from Dr. Corning and Mr. Masters. Dr. Corning?”

The gaunt tall man leaned forward.

“I need only add minor glosses to the admirable document Mr. Foster-Stern has circulated,” he said. “First, as to State’s involvement. Although we don’t possess the unique Shalmaneser we’re not ill-equipped with computers and we analysed Mr. Masters’s suggestion very fully before okaying his approach to you. State’s prepared to buy a fifty-one per cent share in the loan floated to finance the project, but to minimise political repercussions we’ll have to do so through front agents. These should keep down complaints about neocolonialism so that by the ten-year mark we can hope for active co-operation from Beninia’s neighbours in digesting the fruits of the plan. And, second, I’d like to emphasise that Mr. Masters conceived his idea after very wide experience in the country and you should give great weight to his personal recommendation.”

“Mr. Masters?” Old GT invited.

“All right, I’ll make it personal, then,” Elihu said after a barely noticeable hesitation. “The reason I put this project to State has nothing to do with the profit your corporation can expect. If you’re at all acquainted with the recent history of Africa you’ll have noticed that the withdrawal of the colonial powers left the map in a terrible muddle. Arbitrary lines separated potential economic units—they weren’t even tribally based, but dictated by nineteenth-century European power-struggles. As a result, many countries have been in chaos. There have been civil wars, hordes of refugees, poverty, famine and pestilence.

“Since the idea of federation took hold, things have improved. Countries like Dahomalia, for instance, or the Republican Union of Nigeria with Ghana, have become reasonable places to live, with an adequate GNP and stable public services. But they didn’t settle down in Dahomalia until they’d killed about twenty thousand members of a dissident tribe, and as for what went on in South Africa—ah, never mind. Everyone knows what a living hell
that
was.

“In the middle of all this, my good friend Zad Obomi has performed the miracle of creating the equivalent of an African Switzerland, free from alliances that might drag it into wars it didn’t care about, as happened to Sierra Leone and Gambia; not being milked of irreplaceable resources by a richer foreign ally, as happened to the Congo—and so forth.

“Beninia’s a poverty-stricken country, but it’s a wonderful place to live. About five per cent of its people fled there from tribal clashes on adjacent territory, but there’s been no tribal violence in Beninia. There are four language-groups, but there’s been no conflict such as we’ve seen right close to home in Canada, or in Belgium prior to partition. It’s a peaceful country, and it seems to me it’s got something too valuable to be swallowed up by greedy neighbours merely because President Obomi can’t live forever.”

He fell silent. Glancing around at his colleagues, Norman detected expressions of puzzlement, and his heart sank.

Old GT coughed politely. She said, “I hardly need point out the relevance of what Mr. Masters has told us. An access point to the developing African market which is free of civil commotion and the other hazards of an African beach-head is quite remarkable, isn’t it?”

Norman saw the puzzled looks disappear, and felt a stir of honest admiration at Old GT’s ingenuity in manipulating her staffers.

“Next,” GT continued, “I call on Norman House, whom Mr. Masters personally recommends to initiate our negotiations with the Beninian government. Norman?”

The big moment was here. For a terrible pulsebeat-long span of time he felt panic, as though amnesia had wiped away everything he had carefully rehearsed to say. The sensation, however, passed so rapidly that he was already speaking before he realised he had recovered.

He said, “Thank you, GT,” and noticed the rustle of reaction. Traditionally, junior VP’s said “Miss Buckfast” or—by analogy with the form of address to the British Queen—“ma’am”. Several eyebrows were raised to signal recognition of impending promotion. Norman was too preoccupied to care. He had expended infinite pains on sounding out his colleagues, trying to judge the approach that would most impress them, and Rex had put a computer at his disposal to evaluate the various possibilities in terms of their personality-profiles; an instant of inattention could waste all that trouble.

“Mr. Masters has drawn our attention to a remarkable aspect of the history of Beninia, which I’d like to amplify. The legacy of colonialism there was seemingly a pleasant one. Beninia never underwent—even in the crisis years of the 1980s—agitation to expel foreigners, let alone massacres of them. Beninians seem self-confident enough to treat with anyone on terms they find acceptable. They know they need aid. They won’t reject an offer because it comes from—say—Britain, the former colonial power, or from ourselves just because this is primarily a white-skinned country. And so on.

“A feature common in the rest of Africa—greed for what richer countries can afford to give them combined with resentment of foreigners—this is absent in Beninia. This implies the solution to a major subsidiary problem posed by the project we’re considering.

“No doubt some of you are saying, ‘What experience do we have to draw on? As a country whose very formation was predicated on rejection of overseas interference, how are we going to cope with running the internal affairs of another country on another continent?’

“A very fair question—with a ready-made answer. A fund of experience exists for us to draw on, mainly in Britain but also in France. In both places there are a large number of talented executives who used to work in colonial administration and who are now marking time in other fields. Our investigations have proved that many of them would be willing to go back as advisors—I stress that, not as zecks or officials, merely as expert advisors.

“Additionally, you’ll all remember the much-lamented Peace Corps which was discontinued in 1989 as a result of the wave of xenophobia then engulfing Africa and Asia. Disillusioned, Congress abolished it as not justifying its by then colossal cost. If any of you come much into contact with young people, though, you’ll be aware that its legend survives. Working for the OAS in Chile or Bolivia is a serviceable substitute, but it doesn’t provide an adequate outlet for the available volunteers. We can pick and choose among tens of thousands of adventurous young people to staff—especially—our educational programme in Beninia.

“Financing of the project is assured. Raw materials for it are assured. As I think I’ve just shown, staffing for it is assured. I strongly urge adoption of the report.”

When he ceased he was astonished to find his heart hammering, his skin moist with perspiration.

Why
, he realised with vague dismay,
I’m really desperate to get this through. If they turn it down, what then?

Quit. Go to Yatakang with Donald Hogan. Anything except continue in GT. The idea was unthinkable.

He barely heard the expositions that followed his: the treasurer’s report from Hamilcar Waterford, a market preview, a psychological analysis of the major stock-holders suggesting a probable sixty-five per cent majority at a general meeting. He tuned in again on the questions, for these would foreshadow the decision of the board.

“I’d like to ask Dr. Corning why State approved Mr. Master’s approach to us, instead of setting up a consortium themselves.” That was Paula Phipps, the rather masculine senior VP in charge of commercial organics.

“The plan stands or falls on the question of raw materials,” Corning said shortly. “And no one but GT has MAMP.”

“Did the psychological analysis of our stock-holders take into account the fact that four-fifths of them are white and may object to spending so much in a black country when return on the investment will be deferred for several years?” That was Macy O’Toole, junior VP in charge of procurement, with a half-scowl at Norman.

“Return on the investment will not be deferred,” said Hamilcar Waterford. “Macy, you haven’t been listening!” A fierce snub; Norman started, because it implied that Waterford was firmly on the side of the ayes. “The anticipated proceeds from proper dredging of Port Mey, which will attract cargo that currently goes to other less favourably situated ports, are ear-marked for immediate dividends. Take another look at your briefing document, hm?”

There was a pause, no one else being eager to risk the officers’ displeasure. Old GT said, “Anyone got another question?”

Nora Reuben, senior VP in charge of electronics and communications, spoke up. “Why isn’t there a representative of the Beninian government here? I feel I’m operating in a vacuum.”

Good question.
In fact, Norman decided, the only good one so far. GT was inviting Dr. Corning to handle it.

“Mr. Masters is the right person to answer this,” Corning countered, and all eyes turned to Elihu.

“Once more,” the latter said, “I have to speak more personally than you would perhaps expect. Some of you may recall the speculation that ensued when I was posted to Port Mey instead of the places that were being canvassed for me, which included Manila and Delhi. The reason I went to Beninia is simple, though. I wanted the post. Zad Obomi is a long-time friend of mine; we first met at the UN when I was attached to the American delegation as special counsellor on ex-colonial territories. When my predecessor at Port Mey retired, Zad asked for me and I accepted. He has only ever asked me one other favour, and that was very recently.

“Zad is now seventy-four years old. He’s an exhausted man. As you know, he was half-blinded in an assassination attempt, and the consequences have been psychological as well as physical.

“And a few weeks ago, he called me to his office and said this to me—I’ll try and quote him word for word.” Elihu shut his eyes and drew his brows together. “He said, ‘Forgive me for putting this burden on you, but I know of nobody else I can ask. My doctors promise me only another few years of life even if I retire. I want to leave my people a better legacy than chaos, famine and poverty. Can you tell me how?’

“Madam, there’s no need for a representative of the Beninian government. To Zadkiel Obomi the people of Beninia are his friends, practically his family, and he’s been their sole support and breadwinner ever since 1971. He’s not asking for help in the name of a government. He’s asking for a way to provide for his dependants when he dies.”

There was silence. During it, Norman found himself trying to signal telepathically to Old GT:
don’t call the vote now, they didn’t understand what Elihu was saying, you’ll risk catching them while they’re unconvinced …