Inherit the Earth - Brian Stableford [133]
According to Frederick Gantz Saul, there would be crazy people around for some time yet—but not forever. In time, according to Saul, sanity would prevail; foolishness, criminal behavior, and disaffection would fade into oblivion and everyone would be safe. Damon still had not made up his mind whether to believe that, let alone whether to believe Saul’s further assertion that the sanity and safety in question would not be a kind of stagnation.
The heightened sense of mortality should have worn off once he was off the street, but it didn’t. It accompanied him in the elevator and didn’t let up when he stepped out into the LA offices of the Ahasuerus Foundation. Damon hadn’t made an appointment, and he wouldn’t have felt utterly crushed if he’d been told to go away by the AI receptionist, but Rachel Trehaine didn’t even keep him kicking his heels for the customary ten minutes of insult time. He had expected to find her in a frosty mood, but she was positively welcoming—presumably because she was curious.
“How can I help you, Mr. Hart?” she asked.
“I hoped that you might be able to offer me an expert opinion,” he said. “I’m not sure that I have anything to offer in trade, but you might be interested in some of what I have to say.”
“I can’t speak on behalf of the foundation,” she was quick to say. “I’m only . . .”
“A humble data analyst,” Damon finished for her. “That’s okay. You’ve heard, I suppose, that the three men Yamanaka arrested have pleaded guilty to all the charges—kidnapping, illegal imprisonment, conspiracy to pervert the course of justice, etcetera. They’ll be put away for at least twenty years—but I dare say that when they come out of suspended animation they’ll walk straight into jobs with PicoCon, who’ll bear the full responsibility and cost of their rehabilitation. There won’t be a full trial, of course—just a formal hearing to determine the sentence.”
“I’m sure that Inspector Yamanaka is very grateful to you,” the red-haired woman said. “If you hadn’t resisted so valiantly when they came after you a second time. . . .”
“Actually, it was all Lenny Garon’s doing. When he heard them say that they weren’t police, he leaped to the conclusion that they were Eliminators enthusiastic to execute an enemy of mankind. Hero worship eclipsed his sense of probability for a few vital moments. I’m grateful to him, of course, but I think Inspector Yamanaka still has a lurking suspicion that he’s been fobbed off with a few disposable scapegoats. He doesn’t believe that it was all their own idea. On the other hand, he doesn’t really want to look too hard for evidence of the involvement of a man like Frederick Saul, in case his career runs onto the rocks.”
“People who have careers do have to be careful, Mr. Hart,” she pointed out.
“True—and I certainly don’t want to jeopardize yours. In fact, I rather hoped that you might be able to help me out with my own career decisions. I seem to have reached something of a crossroads.”
“The Ahasuerus Foundation isn’t interested in employing you,” she told him.
“PicoCon is.”
“In that case,” she said, “you should count yourself very fortunate.”
“I’ve heard that they have a great future ahead of them,” Damon admitted, “but I’m not sure that their optimism would be shared—at least not wholeheartedly—by an unbiased observer.”
“I’m flattered that you consider me an unbiased observer,” she assured him, “but I’m not sure that I have enough facts at my disposal to make a reasoned analysis of your career prospects with PicoCon or any other company.”
“But you do know something about the Saul family, don’t you? One of the men who financed the foundation was a Saul, wasn’t he?”
“The Ahasuerus Foundation was set up by Adam Zimmerman, entirely funded from his own resources.”
“Resources which he earned, if earned is the right word, by masterminding a coup which turned a stock-market crash into an economic holocaust—and left a few dozen men with effective possession of two-thirds of the earth’s surface. The possession