Distraction - Bruce Sterling [126]
“Their morale’s been destroyed. They know we’ve been targeted for removal. They know all their hard work will come to nothing. They’re just hoping that someday the memories will fade.” Chander’s shoulders slumped.
“This is a remarkable story. I’ll have to check this story out with your industrial liaison.”
“Sure. Go ahead. His name is Ron Griego, he’s a project manager for corporate R&D up in Detroit.”
Oscar blinked. “Would that be Ronald K. Griego?”
“You actually know Ron Griego?”
“I think I do,” Oscar said, frowning. “In fact, I suspect we can see this matter properly expedited in short order.”
After leaving Dr. Chander, mollified at least to the point of eating, Oscar and Kevin sought shelter in the lush foliage north of the Genetic Fragmentation unit. Oscar then called Griego’s krewe secretary in Detroit.
“Forgive me for cold-calling you, ma’am, but I think Mr. Griego will want to talk to me. Would you please tell Ron that it’s Oscar Valparaiso, class of ‘37, and that it’s an urgent federal matter?”
Griego was on the phone within five minutes. He and Oscar traded wary pleasantries.
“Went into the family car business after all, eh, Ron?”
“That’s why Dad sent me to Harvard,” Griego said. “What’s with this awful phone connection?”
“Encryption and rerouting. Sorry. Look, it’s about the Buna National Collaboratory.”
“I hear you’re shutting the place down,” Griego said cheerfully. “There’s a big workers’ strike going on there. Well, of course that’s a blow to our futuristic research effort, but I don’t want you to worry. We understand labor troubles, here in the auto business. If we can lobby Congress to let us keep this fiscal year’s R&D deductions, we think we can survive the loss of our Buna lab.”
“Sorry, but it won’t be quite that easy, Ron.”
“But I’m making it easy for you,” Griego said, wounded. “Shut the place down, fire ’em all. Zero it out, lock the doors, it’s over, they’re history. What could be easier than that?”
“Oh, that’s easy enough for me—I meant to say that it wouldn’t be easy for you.”
“I might have known,” Griego groaned. “Why can’t it ever be easy with you, Valparaiso? What have you got against the rest of us? What is your problem?”
“Just fitting a few loose ends together. Believe me, Ron, I can sympathize. It must have been a nightmare for you—netwarring some krewe of lunatics who built a magic sugar battery.”
“Oh, Christ.”
“Look, Ron, relax. Remember that time I hid those two hookers from the campus police? I never outed you on anything, and I’m not planning to out you now. Just level with me. That’s all that I ever ask.”
There was a long uneasy silence. Then Griego burst out in a fury. “Don’t get all high-and-mighty with me, Mr. Third-in-His-Class. You think it’s easy running corporate R&D? It was just fine, as long as the guy didn’t have anything. Jesus, nobody ever thought a goddamn sugar engine would work. The goddamn thing is a giant germ in a box! We build cars up here, we don’t build giant germs! Then they pull this crazy stunt and … well, it just makes our life impossible! We’re a classic, metal-bending industry! We have interlocking directorates all throughout the structure, raw materials, fuel, spare parts, the dealerships.… We can’t get into the face of our fuel suppliers, telling them that we’re replacing them with sugar water! We own our fuel suppliers! It’d be like sawing off our own foot!”
“I understand about interlocking directorates and mutual stock ownership, Ron. I was sitting right next to you in business school, remember? Cut to the chase—what about the battery?”
“Batteries have the highest profit margin of any automobile component. We were making money there. You can’t make real money anywhere else in our business. The Koreans are building auto bodies out of straw and paper! We can’t support an industry when cars are cheaper than grocery carts! What are we gonna tell our unions? This is a great American tradition at stake here! The car defines America: the assembly line, suburbs, drive-ins, hot rods,