The 2084 Precept (3 page)

Well now, he sounded normal, he sounded
educated—not something you can take for granted in the U.K. these
days—and I liked the guarantee of the two minutes, something rarely
proffered by most of the poor sods taking surveys. And anyway, it
would be interesting to find out if he was telling the truth about
the two minutes or not. A morsel of psychological entertainment on
a sunny morning, why not?

He was dressed fairly formally and, it
seemed to me, expensively. Dark blue overcoat, dark blue suit,
black shoes, looked new, white shirt and a yellow tie you wouldn't
find in one of your department stores for the masses. Early forties
I would guess, a somewhat roundish face but not too fleshy, short
blond hair, not fat, not thin, fairly tall, close to six feet in
height, i.e. a few inches smaller than myself, all in all an
optically presentable kind of chap.

"No, it's fine, it's no problem," I said
pleasantly. I am usually pleasant of course, there is no point in
being otherwise. In fact you would usually describe me as a
seriously pleasant person, unless you happened to be around when I
was forcibly obliged to react to an unpleasant one.

"Take a pew and fire away, dear sir. My
pleasure," I said. I didn't offer him coffee, not much point in
doing that for just two minutes, I am sure you agree.

He sat down, awkwardly of course, hampered
as all tall people are, and a lot of short people also, by the
smallness of the British tables and chairs; but he sat sideways to
avoid bashing his knees against mine (aha, definitely educated),
which otherwise would have meant that
I
would have had to
shift sideways. I do not enjoy unwanted physical contact with
others, not even if I know them—good looking females, needless to
say, being the exception to the rule, whether I know them or
not.

"Well, sir, I thank you for your courtesy,"
he said. "Now this survey is merely an initial contact with just
one question, just one single question, which is as follows. Would
you possibly, I emphasize possibly, be prepared, I emphasize be
prepared, to consider, and I emphasize consider also, undertaking a
project for my organization, one hundred percent legal and to your
satisfaction provably so, a consultancy role involving little or no
active
endeavor on your part, an estimated duration of three
months, perhaps even less, paying a fee of €500,000, of which
€100,000 in advance and non-returnable, irrespective of the
usefulness of your contribution and/or even if you were to resign
from the task prematurely? You may resign overnight by the way,
without giving reason, and from our side, there is no requirement
for a contract, either verbal or written. And, as I have mentioned,
you would get to keep the €100,000."

All of this was spoken in a rush, perhaps
because of the two minutes he´d quoted, and he leaned back in his
tiny chair and looked at me carefully, as if trying to calculate
what effect his ludicrous and impossible query might have had on
me.

As well he might. I really don't need my
pleasant mornings to be messed about with by conversations with
nutcases or criminal fraudsters, whichever of the two he turned out
to be. And so I just stared at him—I am quite good at staring—while
considering the most effective and at the same time least offensive
manner in which to reply and get rid of him while avoiding
unpleasantness on the one hand, and allowing me to rapidly return
to my sports pages on the other. No more wasting of my personal
time on this fine sunny morning. No sir, this would go no further.
That might result in my good mood mutating into a peevish one. And
we wouldn't want that.

"If I may be so bold, we only have another
thirty seconds or so, sir," he said, sounding for all the world
like a normal, pleasant business person mentioning the need to
reach a decision before an agreed contract deadline.

May God, Mohammed, Buddha, Krishna, Thor or
whatever your preference is, or whatever you were brainwashed into
believing as a child, spare me. I should simply have said 'No', but
I was desirous of saying 'No' in a way that would be fully
understood, supporting my negative in other words, with a concise,
clear and descriptive rationality which would allow no further room
for discussion, nor for his continued presence at my breakfast
table.

Which, if you look at it one way, was a
mistake which involved me in a pretty weird series of events over
the next few weeks, including an unwanted acquaintance with some
rather obscure representatives of our national security forces. But
if you look at it another way, it wasn't a mistake. Money is rarely
a mistake and, as it turned out, I was to receive quite a lot of
it. Sophie Tucker was the one who paraphrased it best. I've been
rich, she said, and I've been poor; and let me tell you…rich is
better.

It just goes to show, life is an ocean and
its waves are sometimes quiet and languid and gentle, and sometimes
they are huge and noisy and life-threatening, and these waves can
take you to just about wherever they want to take you and the only
thing you can do about it is to learn how to swim in all the
varying conditions because, like all animals, you don't want to
sink, drown, perish before your time. Do you?

"Let us forget about the two minutes," I
told him, "three minutes is O.K. by me and my answer is 'No' and
I'll tell you why. I mean this politely, I have no wish to cause
any unpleasantness or insult you in any way, trust me on that, I
would merely like to terminate our brief encounter without further
ado, and that is hopefully O.K. with you? You are obviously”, I
continued, “not in a position to know whether I am a person of
normal intelligence or not. But—as it so happens—I am, you may
believe me on that. And, as such, I can tell you that in my opinion
your offer is either an illegal one, a failed attempt at a not very
good joke, or else you are insane, again no offence intended. In my
opinion, that is, right or wrong. But as my opinion happens to be
the only one I have, it is, regrettably or otherwise from your
point of view, the only one that counts. And so…with apologies for
repeating myself, the answer is no, and thank you very much. Have a
nice day."

You will forgive my use of the latter
phrase. It is an American expression converted unintentionally into
the imperative by omitting the admittedly superfluous 'I hope you
will'. If you have been to the USA, you are certainly acquainted
with the expression, on account of having to listen to it a few
thousand times every day. But it definitely serves a purpose and I
certainly employ it from time to time.

"Well now, I am also," said the stranger, "a
man of normal intelligence. And I was consequently expecting your
reply to be more or less exactly as it was…despite the fact that my
question was merely whether you would consider, or rather, merely
possibly
consider. But of course, I would not be so
discourteous as to try and persuade you otherwise. I naturally
accept your answer, and I accept it as a definitive one. On the
small chance, however, that you might possibly change your mind,
may I take the liberty of leaving you with my business card? And I
hope you will accept my apologies for having taken a portion of
your time; and please allow me to assure you that if I do not hear
from you again, you will not be hearing from me. I guarantee you
that. In the meantime, my sincere apologies, and may you also have
a nice day or, perhaps," and I could swear his eyes were
twinkling—a ridiculous phrase, but it serves to portray a certain
facial expression—"a nice life."

And with that he stood up, smiled politely
with his round and pleasant face, and walked away.

* * * * *

Well, for a nutcase, he certainly wasn't a
troublesome one. So much the better. I ordered another coffee and
got back to the sports pages. God knows what footballers or—if you
are an American and have difficulty distinguishing between hands
and feet—soccer players, think of some of the crap that the British
tabloid journalists churn out every day. I read an article by
chance the other day in a machine operator's newspaper in the
factory. A player had been asked whether he would be renewing his
contract with Manchester City at the end of the season and he had
replied that he didn't know. And maybe he didn't, maybe the club
hadn't even discussed it with him yet, or maybe it hadn’t even
determined what conditions, if any, it might be prepared to offer
him, or whatever. A thousand reasons, the guy just didn't know. And
the headline was, oh yes:
'Rodriguez Denies Contract Renewal
Talks—The End?'
followed by a fabricated article adding
absolutely nothing else. This kind of stuff is written by mentally
backward persons for consumption by persons with the mental
capacity of a dying snail, of which, as we know, there are a large
number on this planet, very large in fact. And also for the
jellyfish, as my friend Steve would say (jellyfish being one of the
few creatures on the planet which do not possess a brain of any
kind at all).

The IHT on the other hand is an interesting
journal, it has real sports articles written by journalists with a
literary education and it is more international to boot. I checked
the mid-week European results, I briefly perused the text devoted
to what had actually happened in the games, and then I leaned
back—metaphorically of course, given the chair I was sitting in—and
I lit up a cigarette (please don't say it, it is boring;
furthermore, you are right; and also furthermore, I am happy to
admit to plenty of other defects also, should you so wish) and
picked up the nutcase's visiting card.

OBRIX CONSULTANCY PARTNERS

Suite 12, Royal Strand Towers

The Strand

London WC2N 5RS

U.K.

Jeremy Parker, Senior Partner

Tel. 0044-77571404691

Typical. Not only a fraudster but an amateur
one. It doesn't tell you what they do, the suite address possibly
denotes temporary office space and, oh dear me, a mobile phone
number. But no doubt he picks up a customer here or there, there
are always enough simpletons to be found on this planet and there
always will be. This planet of ours contains a sizeable percentage
of human beings with severely limited cerebral capabilities, no
change century after century, today and tomorrow, being born right
now as you and I drink our coffee. My estimate, in my opinion, is a
pretty good one - 10% intelligent, 50% neither intelligent nor
stupid, or intelligent only in certain ways and therefore not
intelligent, and 40% stupid, thick as two planks. Not their fault,
they don't make their own brains, they´re just born the way they
are, you can see the differences already when they´re young, walk
into any old school and take a good look, ask a teacher. All walks
of life, good lawyers and lousy ones, productive factory workers
and useless ones, good politicians and brainless liars and
wafflers, you name it. The same percentages all through, more or
less.

You know those bars, cafés, restaurants
where you can´t pay, no matter how much you try, and it can take
you up to half an hour sometimes? That´s because the waiters and
waitresses are morons or at least semi-morons. I don't mean that
nastily—as I have just mentioned, they don't manufacture their own
brains—I am merely employing the word factually as per the
dictionary. They never come near your table, and whenever they
appear somewhere else, they never look at you and so you can't
attract their attention—unless you choose to shout across the
intervening space in Mediterranean fashion, upon which they become
haughtily offended and disappear again. These people are unable to
grasp the fact that someone may be wishing to leave and that it is
their job to facilitate this. They have no idea whatsoever of how
long that person has been trying to leave. Their brains tell them
that it has only been a minute or so and if the customer isn't
prepared to behave normally and politely and wait for as long as
he, the waiter, feels like, then he'll be treated as he deserves.
Morons, as I say, as per the dictionary.

But such is life. These things do not
seriously disturb me. They are the flotsam and jetsam of our
existence. They are not to be avoided but they cause no serious
harm. And if I have a habit of making observations to myself on
such matters, well…they cause no harm either.

So I left some money on the table (no tip
for a service not received), and not my problem if another human
being steals it. Not that this type of waiter would care less if
someone did. I stood up and headed off westwards down Curzon
Street.

I was still in a good mood, the sun was
still shining, I had only about an hour's meeting to deal with, the
weekend was coming up and life was definitely pleasant—pleasant,
needless to say, within the restrictions prevailing on our
particular revolving lump of rock.

So…right into South Audley Street, a couple
of minutes up the road, into the office building, up to the third
floor (or fourth, if you are American), and into the offices of
United Fasteners PLC, and a real grin for that swish, swish
receptionist with the crooked smile.

"Hi Susi, TGIF right? Need company for the
weekend, platonic of course, boyfriend maybe on a foreign business
trip, just let me know." Chuckle, chuckle, keep it light, just a
joke, just in case.

It pays to remain excessively polite with
women you don't really know—most of them appreciate that, you are
showing respect, it shows you are an educated male, maybe you even
have
true
emotions in addition to your sexual ones. And in
any case, as a consultant, you carefully toe the line to avoid
unwanted situations with the client's employees, especially the
female ones needless to say. It reminds me of one of my early trips
to the U.S. when I greeted the boss's secretary with "Hi Cherry,
you're looking dangerously fantastic this morning. How do you do
it?" "Peter, do not," she replied in a whisper, "say things like
that in such a loud voice. You may be European, but that doesn't
change the fact that just about anything you say around here is
capable of getting you into serious trouble for perceived sexual
harassment." So I turned a few cubicle rats' heads when I shouted,
"I meant your brain, Cherry, I meant that your brain is looking
dangerously fantastic this morning." They can't put me in jail for
that now, can they? Or can they? The way things are on this planet
nowadays, you never really know.