Sycamore (Near-Future Dystopia) (13 page)

“It’s nothing like that, Kurt. The Lenses recognise food types and The Seed assumes you’ll want more of the things you like. It’s the same with the TV shows: the system knows what you’ve been watching and recommends similar things. No one is watching you.”

“So it’s all automatic?”

“Correct. With regular ads we just throw stuff at the wall and see what sticks. If a consumer purchases a product that’s just been advertised we assume the connection and take a commission, but since you didn’t buy the noodles we don’t get anything from Tasmart. They don’t even know about the placement. Anyway, two ads in a thirty minute journey hardly constitutes a flood.”

“Still, I saw what you’ve done with the tracking — telling people that they can track everyone else if they agree to enable location services. I also know that you’ve been convincing schools to mandate seeding of their students. Tell me that location tracking will be disabled for everyone under the age of 18.”

“I would, Kurt, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

“So what happens when a child gets abducted by some sex offender who waits until the tracking grid shows that they’re isolated?”

“Wow.” Amos stood up. “You’ve got a sick mind.”

Kurt rose and followed him to the window. “So that’s it? Ignore the issue?”

“If the kid was wearing Lenses we’d see the culprit. If the kid had enabled Seed-based tracking we’d know where they were being held. And if I had my way and tracking was compulsory, the police would know where all convicts were at all times. Your little scenario couldn’t happen.”

“Only if the convicts were seeded in the first place,” said Kurt. “People with something to hide aren’t going to let you put a chip in their hand.”

“That’s exactly the point. In a few months everyone will be seeded apart from those with a nefarious reason not to be. Hence our forthcoming push for compulsory seeding of all criminals.”

“Criminals and schoolchildren, no?”

Amos grinned. “It would stop them going missing.” Kurt didn’t see the funny side but Amos continued. “Anyway, at the contest you stood in front of the world and told me that The Seed would be in every American’s left hand within a year. Were you lying? Is your position at my company based on a lie?”

“No. But I expected us to be giving people reasons to get seeded, not forcing it on them.”

“You can’t reason with children or criminals! People who are seeded and wearing UltraLenses can’t go missing and they can’t commit crimes without being caught. Before long the law-abiding masses will be marching in the streets to demand compulsory seeding for all.”

“You’re insane if you believe that.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m insane,” said Amos. He made the stylistic decision to finish his thought with a silent Glance, looking into Kurt’s eyes and scribbling in his hand. “… I’m right.” Amos walked away towards his elevator.

“Hold on. I’m not finished with you.”

Amos stopped in his tracks and looked back without turning his body. “Who are you speaking to, Kurt? It can’t be me in that tone.”

“Shut up and listen. If my brother’s kids have to get seeded, it’s going to be free. And while we’re on the subject of money…”

“I should have known.” Amos finished turning around and walked unusually close to Kurt. “Money does this to people. I didn’t think it would do it to
you
, but what do I know?”

Kurt didn’t reply.

“Well, at least now I know what you’ve been upset about,” Amos continued. “All these fantastical frustrations about people playing games, children getting a safer and better education, too many ads, poor little murderers and rapists being seeded against their will… they’re nothing but distractions from the truth behind your visit: cool kid Kurt is all about the cash.”

“No, it’s the whole point of everything. I won a job for life. Jobs come with responsibilities and salaries. You had me hiding in my house for two weeks and I’m not being paid. How is that a job?”

“You’re job was having the idea, and a damn good one it was. If it wasn’t for you there would be no Seed.”

“Exactly. So how can it be fair that I’ve not been paid a penny?”

“You have infinite credit on your Seed.”

“Which I can’t even spend in one store yet! You’ve sold eight million of my Seeds at $500 a pop and I’m struggling to get by.”

“How much do you want, then?”

“I don’t want much in relative terms. Let’s say 1% of whatever The Seed grosses.”

“Not much? 1% is $30 million for today alone, not even counting what people have spent in the SycaStore. What the hell do you need that kind of money for?” Amos wasn’t shouting; he seemed more upset than angry. “I didn’t read you as the greedy type, Kurt. Terrance warned me that you were. I’d hate to think he was right.”

Kurt’s eyes widened. “Minion said that?”

“He did. I thought you were an idealistic man who would be happy getting by without having to think about money — hence giving you infinite credit. It’s not strictly wealth, but it takes money out of your life. Yet here you are asking me for $30 million after two days!”

“But I
do
still have to worry about money. Why does no one get that? Nowhere accepts payment via The Seed.”

“Everywhere soon will, I promise you that. By the end of the year most places will accept no other payment method. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that cash is on the way out. With that in mind it would be more instructive for us to simply provide the things you need. So, Kurt, tell me what you need.”

“I could do with a new house. If you saw where I’m living you would understand.”

Amos narrowed his lips like a ventriloquist. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want anyone thinking that as important a man as Kurt Jacobs was slumming it. How about a nice shiny car? Or do you prefer the chauffeur service I already provide?”

Kurt struggled to interpret Amos’s tone. “I’d prefer a car. I feel bad having someone spend their time driving me around.”

“Anything else?” asked Amos. He was either jotting down Kurt’s requests in his hand or doing an excellent job of pretending to.

“Maybe some clothes. Normal clothes, I mean, not just suits.”

“Good. Pick everything out of a catalogue or whatever and someone will sort it. You’re coming to see me in the morning anyway, so choose a vacant house tonight and we can move you in tomorrow. Now, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“That was all,” said Kurt, satisfied by this outcome.

“And are you taking a bus home or would you rather go in the car? The driver is being paid whether he’s moving or not.”

“I’ll go with him, then,” Kurt decided, “for old time’s sake.” He smiled and walked away.

Amos quickly performed the three-tap shortcut for sending a text and selected Terrance Minion as its recipient. He typed a message as Kurt entered the elevator.

“You were right about Jacobs.”

7

An expansive four-bedroom property in the leafy borough of Longhampton immediately jumped out at Kurt from the real estate listings and a Lamborghini Gallardo did similar from the auto catalogue. He messaged Amos with his selections straight away but didn’t receive a reply until the morning, along with confirmation that a driver would shortly be arriving to bring him to HQ.

Amos greeted Kurt in the lobby, indicating that his visit would be a short one, and wasted no time in explaining the present state of affairs. “Good morning, Kurt. The house and car have been registered to your Seed. You know where the house is and the car will be here tonight.”

“Thanks,” said Kurt, and he meant it.

“Not at all. It’s a beautiful house — very classy. And a Gallardo! I was
not
expecting that. Anyway, I wanted you here today to talk about Friday. I have a very important meeting with some very important people. Terrance is coming but I’d like you to be there, too. You might need to sign something about non-disclosure. The government are paranoid like that.”

“The government? Who exactly are you meeting?”

“The president,” said Amos. “And his entourage, I expect.”

“Why are you meeting the president? And why would you need me to be there?”

“He and I have some mutual interests. As for you… there a few reasons I want you beside me at the table. I won’t lie: it’s mainly that your presence brings levity. But you’re also quite good at phrasing things. To hell with the catfish and all that. ”

“Why the actual president, though? Shouldn’t he be busy stopping wars or whatever it is that we pay him to do?”

Amos smiled at how poorly Kurt seemed to understand the nature of politics. “At first they told me that — that he was busy. They wanted to send some monkey from the CIA, but I said that if they sent a department head then so would I and that if they wanted Sycamore’s organ grinder then I wanted theirs.”

“What do you want out of the meeting?”

“Public funding for our new CrimePrev division, along with the power to issue arrest warrants. CrimePrev will be non-commercial and fully devoted to tracking and preventing criminal activity. We’ll need a lot of new staff, hence the funding. This way we can let the police do their job on the ground without compromising consumer privacy.”

Kurt didn’t know where to start. “Public funding for a corporation making billions of dollars in a single day? I bet you won’t be sharing your profits. This is the same kind of reverse socialism we saw with the banks: men like you taking risks with everyone else’s money and keeping the rewards. And calling it CrimePrev? What world are you in where people will accept that? It’s just PreCrime with a v.”

“What would you suggest then, SycaPol?”

“It’s not so much the name. I just meant that even
thinking
of the name CrimePrev shows how little you know what you’re doing. People hate the idea of PreCrime because it inevitably leads to punishing thoughtcrimes.”

Amos couldn’t think of a lie, so he said nothing. Seconds passed before something came to his mind. “It’s not about thoughtcrime. We can only see what people are actually doing and saying, not what they’re thinking. There’s no room for error.”

“But there’s room for abuse. And, knowing you, you’ll probably put Minion in charge!”

“The board will consider all well-qualified candidates.” Much could be read into Amos’s non-denial.

“Do you know what your good friend Terrance used to do before he started working here?”

“Why do you think I recruited him?” said Amos, grinning horribly. “Look, we have the technology to eliminate crime and it would be a sin to ignore that. This is one of those times when ability implies duty. We can, so we must.”

“Aren’t people already using their recorded footage to prove what did or didn’t happen in difficult situations, though? Why do we need all of these new powers?”

Amos nodded. He liked when Kurt paid attention. “They have, yes. A handful of consumers have already gone into police stations and used their Relive data as evidence, but that only works when the victim is present during the crime and they are a Relive subscriber. We need the funds to staff a new surveillance department and the power to issue arrest warrants. This new law about public demonstrations was a sort of prequel; we’ve been negotiating that since before the launch.”

Kurt knew what Amos was talking about, but only just. A few hours prior, the morning SycaNews bulletin had heralded the unopposed passing of the first Sycamore-related legislation as a victory for the public. It would tackle an unjust status quo in which everyone was expected to foot policing bills for which only a handful of demonstrators were responsible.

A small levy was to be automatically debited from all participants in officially-sanctioned demonstrations. Inauspicious police drones — even these early models — could interact with Seeds from as many as twelve metres away. This meant that attending officers could instruct the drones to hover safely above the demonstrators and scan them one by one. Anyone found to be unseeded, and hence unable to foot their share of the policing costs, would be removed from the area. It was a victory for common sense, Amos said.

After presenting the idea to the authorities as a gesture of goodwill and providing the scanning technology free of charge, he was publicly thanked for his good citizenship. That the new law annihilated the possibility of a counter-Sycamore demonstration was a happy coincidence.

Kurt thought there was no way that the demo would go peacefully. The kind of people who protested offline were hardly representative of the public at large and he expected them to be uncooperative with the tyrannical actions of the new government-Sycamore coalition.

“I think I might go along to that protest tomorrow,” he said, keen to witness the resistance firsthand. “Just to see how this new scanning thing goes down. You don’t need me then, do you?”

“Not really. I can fill you in more about the meeting just before it starts so be here early on Friday. I actually think it will be pretty helpful if you do attend the protest. I don’t trust our contracted journalists and reporters — they all have career agendas, you know? But you I can trust, so either send me a video or tell me how it goes. Keep your head down, though.”

“I will.”

Amos nodded. “I was joking about the Kurtmobile, by the way. She’s already here.” He clicked his fingers for the valet and walked towards his elevator. “Don’t crash it, now… I had to fire three people to buy you that.”

The young valet walked over and told Kurt that his car was waiting outside. Kurt assumed that Amos was joking about the firings but felt bad for being unable to offer the valet a tip. He mumbled an apology about not having touched any real money for days.

He quickly felt better when the yellow supercar came into view. It was the kind of car an international gambler or an oil prince would drive, he thought, standing out even amongst the vehicles of the brokers and derivative-traders who worked in the surrounding skyscrapers. It was the best, and it was his.

Kurt hadn’t driven anything in over a year and this wasn’t just anything. What he intended as a light touch of the accelerator sent him zooming out of the Quartermile and left the wind trailing behind. It was so much more fun than the limo’s backseat.