The Facts Of Business

The elevator chimed at floor 40; the doors opened to a sprawling, almost metallic looking hall. It extended the length of the building in an almost endless, nightmare-like state. Fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered overhead. John had one obstacle: security stationed in front of the hall. The elevator dumped him out in a small circular room, where the long hall connected. The security guard sat at a small desk, raised up on a high back stool. He stared down at a magazine littered with half-naked women, both human and Neko. He paid John little mind until he stepped up.

Almost angered that he needed to “ignore” his beauties, the guard glanced up. “Can I help you?”

From his pocket, John pulled a Coolage Group badge. He passed it to the guard and smiled. “Just getting access to the R&D room. Mr. Barathorn requested some reports.”

The guard studied the badge. He wouldn’t be able to find anything off with it. It was the real deal, another “slight” to the Coolage Group and favor that John called in. These real badges were relatively easy to gather; men like Nile could create them easily. This one wasn’t fake, having been swiped from management and passed off to the black market. John needed only to make a call to a “source”, and he procured the badge.

“Your name is Mr. Sawmill?” the guard asked, not completely convinced. It was, in fact, the actual last name of someone who worked here. John only smiled.

“Terrible name, I know. You can only be blessed with what you’re given though.”

The guard chuckled and scanned the badge. The computer beeped with an excess of energy; John held his breath as the guard ran his eyes over whatever displayed on his tablet. He handed back the badge. “First time in R&D?”

“I don’t know how it is, but you know, busy.”

“Since you’re not part of the group, you won’t be allowed to stay long.” John was handed a lanyard with a keycard at the end. With it around his neck, the guard pressed a small button on the side of the card. A green light began to flash. “That’ll give you about a half hour. If you need more, you’ll need to come back here and request it.”

“And if it runs out while I’m here?”

“Don’t let that happen,” the guard said, “It becomes a lot of paperwork. Don’t want to get any demerits, do you?”

“I’d like to avoid that if I can.”

The guard liked his dedication. “Good. Now, you should get going. You’ve got about 28 minutes left.”

John thanked him and headed down the hall. Time was against him completely. He could not risk going back to the guard station and requesting more. The more contact there, the more likely this ruse will be found out. Also, Elle could only manage for so long in her situation, and John did not want to suffer another fist to the gut. Worse, he was not familiar at all with this part of the Coolage Group headquarters, never having been this high up before. He would look like a lost puppy, and asking too many workers where to go could only lead to suspicion.

John sought out one thing: an archive terminal.

He thanked his previous cases for making this idea even possible. John remembered a man he worked with about a year ago. He had attempted to gain a bit of leverage on Coolage Group, to assist in a lawsuit for “wrongful termination”. John immediately turned the case down, knowing going up against Coolage was a terrible idea. Funny that he was doing it now…

However, in their conversation, the man divulged a bit of information that he probably shouldn’t have. Coolage’s computers existed on a sweeping network. Anything could be accessed from anywhere, given that the user knew where to look and had the proper clearance. John couldn’t easily get high level clearance on his own, but the R&D computers would already have them. That would be his key in but not an easy key to turn.

Everything was about blending in, looking like you belonged. John passed several other workers in the hall, mostly humans, dressed in business casual with the occasion “executive” adorned in their overpriced suit. With an acknowledging head nod, John threaded the needle of “I belong here” and “I’m just visiting”. His meandering through the winding halls, illuminated with nothing but white lights, could be considered aimless, but John kept close to the doors, checking each of the small windows to get a glimpse on the inside. Most rooms were cubicles with drones of Coolage employees scattered amongst them like seeds planted in soil. They had computers, but all were occupied. Nothing would send up red flags faster than asking to use one of them.

13 minutes had passed. Would under twenty be enough? John began pacing the halls at a faster rate, now beginning to draw the gaze of those passing by. Hopefully, they would write it off as someone “with little time” and ignore it. It was business after all. There was always some fire to put it out. However, it would only take one person to stop him.

One man in a fine suit and a thick beard, several years older than John, and looking of “fine money” spoke with accusatory sharpness. “Can I help you?”

It was bold enough for John to put on the full breaks. He brushed his hair, checking if his brow was sweat. Dry… Thank god… “Ah… I’m actually in a bit of a hurry, and-”

“What is your name?” the man asked. John’s mind blanked. He nearly gave his real name before biting his tongue and spitting out the one on his badge. The executive, or who John assumed was an executive, stared him down, holding out his hand. “Badge.”

John handed him the badge, less worried about that considering its legitimacy. “You’re not a member of R&D. Why are you here?”

“I’m fetching some information for Robert Barathorn,” John lied, “Actually, I’ve been looking for a terminal to access, but they’ve all been taken.”

“Mr. Barathorn? What does he want?”

John bit his tongue. Shit… “He wants a rundown of a few of the new R&D products. Something for research. I’m not high enough on that pole to tell you what though. A lot of classified things. For your eyes only. I’m just a messenger.” Did that sound… business enough?

“Mr. Barathorn is in accounting,” the executive said, “Specifically, corporate assessments and financing. The type of financing that gets projects canceled when his boss doesn’t feel it's ‘worth’ it. My projects get canceled. Do you know how I feel about that, Mr. Sawmill?”

Double shit… “Not great?”

“Not great, Mr. Sawmill,” the executive growled, “I’ll be making a call to him and his boss. We’ll get this sorted out. No one will be canceling any of these R&D projects! I received confirmation from accounting that we were safe from budget cuts!” His voice began to rise as steam boiled from his pores. “I know what this is about. The board was pissed we were taking up a larger portion of the budget. Someone’s pulling strings from the background. Those sons of bitches! Well, if they want to fuck me, I’ll show them who has the bigger cock!”

Was this even professional anymore? John stood there frozen as this man went on a tirade, practically screaming and turning more heads than anyone in this situation would want to see. John could have actually worked there and felt utterly small given the circumstances. He pulled back from the raging executive, which caught his attention.

“Mr. Sawmill, I assume you still want to complete your task?”

The answer was yes, given he didn’t care about R&D and their overinflated budget. John wasn’t sure how he should respond at this point. Instead, he simply shrugged, bobbing his head up and down and hoping that this raging executive wouldn’t kill him in cold blood.

“It would be in bad form to hold you up,” the executive said, “I’ll take you to a terminal, but when you’re handing this information over to your superiors, remember this. I will be coming for them. There will be blood. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal sir.”

“Excellent! If you’ll follow me then.” the executive bid John to follow. He wasn’t going to turn him down though John began to question his own sanity in this realm of corporate power plays.

—------

If his encounter with the executive was enough to make him sweat, being in his office, on his computer, accessing his data turned John jittery. Worse, the executive office, which made Robert’s look pathetic in comparison, was one of the largest in the headquarters. It made sense. After all, this was the office of Sergio Coolage, one of the three Coolage brothers, a major executive, and the head of R&D. Since his office was two rooms, and a private bathroom, John was left on his own, clicking through one of the highest profile computers in Coolage’s network. In a small meeting area that was conjoined with his office, Sergio paced around just outside the door, screaming into a phone at someone about “R&D” budget cuts that might not exist.

“I am so sorry, whoever you are, Mr. Sawmill,” John muttered to himself as he accessed Coolage Group’s file system. He double checked his time. Nine minutes before security would make a stink though Sergio Coolage could serve as a good enough excuse.

The terminal connected to the network and logged into the records server. The machine chimed once fully connected, and John pulled up the search UI. As expected, Coolage’s system for records was outdated and clunky with long load times and a difficult to narrow search engine. Plus, John assumed something major like the Revival would be hidden, possibly locked. He could only hope that Sergio Coolage would have the “clearance” to see those items.

John began flipping through folders upon folders of loosely connected data. There was little rhyme or reason to it, and as John began to watch his timer dip more and Sergio’s passionate phone call grow hotter, he feared this was a fool’s errand. There was nothing about the Revival outright, which made sense. John dug into shipping receipts, orders histories, and even communications related to the supply chain to see if he could clean anything. It was a bunch of mindless dribble, products stuck in broken customs or items missing their target date. There was a lot of swearing and insulting, masked as “corporate speak” to prevent HR from getting involved.

Finally, John went digging into records related to the Airyard in District 2. That was where almost all major shipments came in, and many of the correspondence referenced it. It was a lot of shipping information, container numbers, and dates. Nothing he could go off of… John cursed, holding back striking the computer as his clock ticked to zero. The thirty minutes passed; his clearance was up.

And worse, Sergio’s phone call ended. The executive hung up, still fuming, and slammed the door open as he stormed into his office. John pulled his hand away from the keyboard; a feeling of defeat washed over him.

“Those fuck sticks don’t know what’s coming to them,” Sergio growled, “They want to play dumb with it all. Ha! Let’s see them try.” He calmed for a moment, grinning at John, still believing him to be a good employee of Coolage. “Mr. Sawmill, I mean Westley, Wes, what do you like to be called?”

“Wes is fine…”

“Wes, I know you’re only doing your job,” Sergio said, “We all are. I’ve been where you are right now. It sucks, but you have to do what you have to do. This is almost a… godsend for me, you know. You gave me a bit of insight. I knew my brother was planning something. He’s always scheming to take more hold of the company. I’ve been fighting him off, and our youngest, Dick, couldn’t care less. One of those creative hopefuls that will never make anything of himself. Wes, you’ve done me a huge favor today. Now, you didn’t intend it, but I fully believe that ‘business’ is luck. You get lucky in life. You make the right item at the right time, but even that isn’t enough. The right person sees it. That’s business. That’s luck. You got lucky my friend, and I believe that luck will pay off for you. I’d like you to help me. Screw your bosses and do a little digging for me.” Sergio took a seat on the end of the desk. He leaned over to see what was on the computer screen. “Shipping information? Pretty far from R&D.”

John shot up from the chair. “You're right, it is.” He paused, glancing between Sergio and the computer. The light on his guest badge flashed; he assumed the security guard would be aware, possible even on his way. There was only one chance. One stupid, dumb chance. John reached into his pocket, ignoring the badge with the name Westley Sawmill and grabbing his business card: Darcy Investigations. He tossed it on the desk.

“I’m not an employee of Coolage.”

Sergio didn’t even look at the business card. In fact, he slid it back to John. “I was wondering how long we’d dance around this.”

“You knew…?”

“You didn’t particularly look like you knew what was going on,” Sergio replied, “What exactly are you then? Corporate espionage from some startup? I can have security here in seconds.”

“I’m a private investigator,” John explained, “I’m investigating a case that, frankly, I am far too deep in.” Sergio’s hand moved towards a button on his desk. It would ping security. “If you press that, this is all over.”

“You’re giving me little reason not to,” Sergio replied, “Impersonating an employee, accessing our R&D wing, lying to gain access to my computer are all serious, don’t you think. I’m sure the police would love to get involved.”

“They’re already involved, and if you call them, it’ll just add to the host of other charges I’m sure they’ll stack on me.”

“You’re a wanted man then?”

“Maybe? Hard to say,” John said, “I do know that if you contact security, if the police arrest me and my partner, Yorktown will be in serious danger. Not just the Undercity but the Uppercity too. Coolage will be affected. Every citizen could be affected!”

Sergio’s finger brushed the tip of the button; he thought to press it. Instead, he backed away, not intrigued at what this PI was talking about. “Convictions are difficult to argue against. It takes guts. A lot of guts to throw yourself into a situation like this. You have two minutes.”

Another time limit… but John felt a huge weight off his shoulders. “Do you know anything about something called the Revival? They’ve been using the Airyard in District 2 for a sex trafficking ring.”

“Was that the rumbling about that District I’d heard?”

“It was last night,” John explained, “This Revival is a group of Nekos looking to make some sort of big splash in Yorktown. Do you know anything?”

“Why do you think I would? Or anyone in Coolage for that matter?”

John felt the wad of spit hover on the back of his throat. “We believe Coolage is involved in someway.”

“Now that is a massive accusation. Our company strives for a better humanity, Nekos included. Do you know the number of charitable organization Coolage donates too?”

“Doesn’t mean someone or some group isn’t involved. Do you know anything or maybe know if someone else knows?”

Sergio retreated his hand further from the button. He stood from the edge of the desk, opening the blinds to his penthouse office. The morning sky, unimpeded by smog, radiated with the heat of the sun. “It’s truly a beautiful city, isn’t it?”

“The Uppercity is something. Unless we do something though, it won’t stay this way.”

“Coolage Group has always been about one thing, Mr.-”

“John Darcy…”

“Mr. Darcy. Tell me. What do you think that is?”

“To sell items…”

“To sell ideas,” Sergio corrected, “To sell a lifestyle. To sell dreams. To sell purpose. Sometimes this takes the shape of physical things, sometimes property, sometimes feelings. All that matters is that a consumer’s every thought and feeling can be commercialized. That means profit. Profits means more dreams can be crafted, and therefore, sold.” He placed his hand on the cold glass. “Our data analytics are no joke. So much has been spent to determine who wants what. Yorktown is quite the place. It’s one of the most diverse cities on the continent.”

“Good for us…”

“Good for us.” Sergio repeated; his smile seemed to target John, locking in and encasing him in an uncomfortable aura. “In the last ten years, we’ve seen a massive uptick in the Neko population. Right now, I believe the percentages are around 44% human to 56% Neko, most occupying the Undercity. Nekos are a massive consumer base. They buy products as much as humans do, they dream like humans do, and want like humans do. As the Neko population increases, so does the revenue.”

“Well your revenue stream is about to take a massive hit. Both human and Neko.”

“Perhaps at first.”

John tensed up.

“This Revival, run by a mysterious Sal Regis, with delusions of grandeur that he can somehow make a better world for Nekos by forcing them out from under the ‘thumb’ of society. A man with a martyr complex. A man with a god complex, perhaps. He doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as the ends justify the means.”

John backed away as Sergio turned to him. His entire demeanor was different. Gone was the rage. Instead, a man of perfect, calculated thought stood before him. Pure business. Pure Coolage Group. John said, “You do know then…”

“The Revival couldn't function without Coolage Group. Nothing in this city can. That’s the point. We sold Sal on the dream, and he bought it in stride,” Sergio continued, “The difficulty becomes when the dream operates apart from the company’s overall goal. You can imagine that, can’t you.” John offered no response as his horror grew. “Coolage Group supports these thoughts as long as they don’t impede us. If Nekos were to gain more autonomy, they would have ideas, form their own businesses, products, and dreams. They wouldn’t need Coolage Group anymore, or at least, not as much. 54% of the city’s population is Nekos. That would be a large revenue stream to lose.”

“Then why is Coolage ‘selling him’ a dream?” John demanded.

Sergio sat at his computer and typed on the keyboard until he pulled up another record. He waved John and showed a shipping receipt. A random string of numbers occupied the “buyers” field. “Right there, we use random number strings for buyers that don’t necessarily want to be tracked. Quite the impressive purchase of firearms. There were others: clothes, vehicles, chemicals and compounds to make explosives. The funny thing with a company this large: there are many parts. Not every part knows what’s going on with another.” He laughed as he flipped through multiple receipts and correspondences with these Nekos. “You could almost say they’re a subsidiary at this point.”

“You didn't answer my question!”

“The Revival’s dream is a Neko paradise. From what I understand, they’ve planted several explosives around the Undercity, in Neko heavy areas. They plan to detonate them in three days.”

“And you’re fine with this! People are going to die! Thousands will die! Thousands of your customers!”

“No one will die.”

“A bit over confident there?”

Sergio shook his head. “Far from it. The reason no one will die is the bombs will never go off. Yorktown’s finest are already fully aware of the plot, have a plan in place to stop it, and provide a radical show of force.”

“The police have no idea…”

“Then they’ve been lying to you,” Sergio said, “After all, this is a very tight lipped investigation on a terrorist organization. Why would they tell some PI what is going on?”

Did Richards know then? Or was this purely Uppercity?

“You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Darcy,” Sergio assured, “Everything is within good hands. No one except the terrorists will die, as was intended.”

John’s fists clenched. “No… There’s more here. The police would deal with this now if they knew what the Revival was up to.”

“There are dreams to sell other people, John,” Sergio said, “We’re going to assure that other Nekos will not dream so hard in the future. Keep the status quo. Let them buy our dreams. Those are what people truly want, John. They want things to stay the same. They want to make sure their dreams will not be squashed. If a few hundred Nekos end up dead, well, perhaps our government will ensure legislation will protect them from themselves.”

Sergio’s confident attitude told John more than his words. He began to see the bigger picture, a situation that went far deeper than he or Elle could ever expect. He needed to get to Elle. They needed to get out of the Coolage headquarters. John didn’t expect Sergio would make that easy.

He was curious about one final thing. “Why tell me all this? If you mean to subjugate Nekos by building up and dismantling the Revival, what does it serve to reveal it to me?”

Sergio’s confidence never waivered. “Simple. I’ve sold you a dream, John. Even if you had it in your power to stop all this, Coolage Group still tracks to profit.”