8. The Seventh Day Corporation
SDW. Big block letters at the top of his badge that stood for Seventh Day Wellness, of course, next to the corporate insignia, three sevens arranged around a circle. Below that, his picture. And below that, his identification.
Archer, Ransom; Medical Courier; Class G (Armed)
As far as the denizens and guests of Cosmopolis, as well as the terrorists who invade it go, it was Ransom's whole existence and purpose rapped up in one short line of data.
But Ransom did have a duty. He had the responsibility of answering to his employers. A threat that was much more tangible than having to answer to the possible millions who could benefit from Beatrice.
Worrying about whether he would be fired was a crude motivation. Especially for someone who has quit, and been fired as many times as Ransom. He mustn't forget the reason he left the world's largest media corporation to work for the the world's largest health care organization. He wanted to help people.
He wanted to help Jesse.
Ransom was cruising east on the highway. It was a nice day, not too hot. He was taking the short trip from Baseball to downtown Orlando to apply for a job. He could have applied in Baseball City, but he hadn't seen the big city in a while. He figured he could walk around a bit after he spoke to the human resources people. Ransom had never seen the Seventh Day headquarters up close before.
Thankfully, there were no traffic jams. His fuel cells had been acting up lately, and he'd hate to overheat. He passed the county line and could already see the massive towers casting shadows miles long. The skyline of Orlando had many mega-towers built by at least eight of the Big Ten Corporations, including a regional headquarters, and a world headquarters.
The most striking example of skyscraping was the 220 story Nippon Fullerene Building. The soaring monument to Japanese ingenuity was similar to thirty-two other buildings owned by NF planted all over North America. It's girders were made of carbon nanotube composite compiled one atom at a time. The southeastern regional corporate headquarters of General Telepresence was housed in a giant Fuller-dome. It was a larger version of the old EPCOT dome, built in honor of the tourist attraction that was destroyed by terrorists seventeen years ago. Ransom remembered when he was a little kid, driving with his mother long ago. She told him it was God's golf ball.
His destination dominated the skyline. Three huge 200 story towers, one for each member of The Trinity. Ransom thought that he could see one of the parabolic dishes that deflects test fires from graser weapons mounted onto the US Space Guard Defense Satellites that patrol the skies and protect large buildings.
He pulled into the parking garage. His wrist-server chimed as twenty dollars was taken out of his credit account. The security guard at the entrance waved at Ransom and pointed at the small amount of steam coming from under the hood of Ransom's car. He said thank you and smiled to hide his annoyance. He appreciated other people looking out for him. But did they really think him so ignorant as to not notice steam billowing out from his own car?
Ransom walked up to street level. He thought about whether he'd be doing what that parking attendant is doing now if he was hired. How fun. Whatever. A job is a job.
He walked past a bunch of restaurants, all of them vegetarian. He would have to go at least six blocks to get out of Seventh Day territory and get some real food. A swarthy fat guy wearing an Orlando baseball cap was selling analog hot dogs from a cart on the corner. The dogs were made of a "genetically enhanced" fungus. No thank you.
Ransom found himself staring at the awesome sight of the triplet towers. Ambulatory hovercraft were coasting in and out of the tower farthest away from him, tower three, which held the third largest hospital in the country. He stopped gawking when he noticed a family of Hindu tourists doing the exact same thing. Ransom looked at his feet and saw a plaque set into the ground just a few meters from the largest fountain he had ever see. It read;
Seventh Day Wellness Corporation
World Headquarters
Dedicated this day, December 25, 2025
For the glory of God.
The lobby was gigantic, and the inside was a zoo. Literally. Many animals that were at one time considered endangered or even extinct roamed freely in the partitioned biosphere. Ransom spotted a group of very sick looking people in wheelchairs sitting underneath two nude statues, which he assumed represented Adam and Eve. They were watching Florida panther cubs play in the dirt. According to the display at the entrance to the lobby, the natural oasis in the middle of the urban jungle was built to lift the spirits of the patients and strengthen their psychoimmunological response, with supposedly quantifiable results. Ransom saw his reflection in the partition and checked his tie,
He made his way to Human Resources. He talked to a bot interviewer who all but hired him save for the formality of shaking hands with a flesh and blood corporate officer.
"Mr Archer, please sit down." The HR manager had a West Indian accent that Ransom couldn't quite place. Maybe Trinidadian. "Let's see. You've applied for a job as a security and safety officer, and an entry-level bioreactor technician. Tell me why you want a job in the cytology labs."
"I understand that this place has one of the most advanced cytology labs in the world." said Ransom. "I'm really interested in cytology. I took Intro to Microbiology in college and I got an A."
"Yes. Well a bioreactor tech performs the day to day maintenance on the bioreactors. Cleaning them, prepping them, and monitoring the active reactors producing cell cultures, tissues, and organs for transplant. It's not a hard job. But you need certification for that particular job which you don't have. So I'm sorry, but I can get you a job in the Security and Safety Department."
"But I've researched this job." said Ransom. "You guys have this program that offers on the job training and pays for bioreactor tech certification for qualified applicants."
The interviewer looked confused for a moment. "Oh yes. I forgot about that. We do have a program of on the job training. Um... but we only offer the program to a few applicants each year. And we may have filled the quota this year. I'll have to check on that. But I will tell you, the selection process is very rigorous."
Ransom was already becoming discouraged. "Well what do I need to do to make myself more likely to be selected? Convert to Transadventism?"
The interviewer laughed abruptly. "I do hope you're joking. Seventh Day Corporation has a policy of separation of Church and Company. I could be reprimanded for simply suggesting such a thing. I mean, becoming a convert couldn't hurt. But you could get in big trouble."
"With who? The church?"
"No. With God. I have been a Transadventist for years now. I go to service every Saturday. But that means nothing in the eyes of God." The interviewer crossed his arms and frowned. "The only reason a man should convert is if he is being lead by the Spirit."
"Uh... I was only joking."
"With your permission, I would like to check your academic records."
"Yeah, no problem." said Ransom.
The interviewer pulled a scroll notebook out of his desk. He unrolled it and asked his server to retrieve Ransom's records from the Net and display them on the notebook. "Well, your grades are very impressive. Um, did you drop out of college?"
"Yeah. I was having some problems and I had to take a break from school."
"What kind of problems?"
"Personal problems." answered Ransom.
"Your academic record has several interruptions."
"Well, I had to take a few breaks."
"No wonder you couldn't finish your degree." The interviewer continued to stare at the notebook while making a low humming noise. "You also have several interruptions in your work record. You've been employed by General Telepresence Corporation all your adult life. But your employment has been on again off again. And you keep switching departments. It says you worked in their Retail Department as a clerk. You worked in one of their restaurants. You were independently contracted by the corporation as construction laborer. You worked as a lifeguard in one of their water parks. For the last three years, you've been working for their Resort Security department. And now you want to try something totally different.
"Now, Mr Archer, I'm not trying to judge you. But you appear to be the type of person who can't stay committed to one thing and follow it through. It seems like you just can't decide what you want to do with your life."
Ransom couldn't speak. This guy was much more thorough than anybody he had ever talked to in the General Telepresence HR Department. And Ransom felt that he had totally lost control of the situation. He couldn't think of a diplomatic, euphemistic way of saying that he was a loser. A screw-up. Prone to depression. And that he really didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. But that he was older now, and he was willing to change.
The interviewer must have taken pity on him, and broke the uncomfortable silence. "But you've never been fired from any job you've had with General Telepresence. And when you were working, you were never flagged in a way that affected your rehire status. Your criminal record is clean. And you did get an A in Microbiology. I know I didn't do that. Ha! I think I took Pottery one-oh-one instead. I'll tell you what. I'll talk to few people and put in your application for the work training program. Or, I can give you a job as a security officer right now."
It was a dilemma. He needed money desperately. But as usual with Ransom, all that was quixotic about him silenced any voice of financial responsibility in his soul. "I really wanted that job in the cytology labs."
"Okay, Mr. Archer. I will get back to you."
He should have just said no, thought Ransom. Why must people be so dishonest. After returning home, Ransom became ninety-nine point nine percent sure that "I will get back to you." meant no. He went to his room with his stereoscopic goggles in one hand, and his good friend Jim Beam in the other. He met Rodney at Buddy's Tavern. They both agreed to get shit-faced together. Ransom never drank alone. He always needed company, even if it was virtual company.
Ransom woke up on the floor with his telepresence goggles still on his head. Rodney was nowhere to be found, but he received a prompt from Aquinas asking him to talk, ASAP. Ransom went to the Superhuman League to find Aquinas quickly pacing about and mumbling.
"Fucking fundies. Fucking right-wing wacko Christians."
"Aquinas, what's up?"
His eyes were wild. "Ransom, have you heard from Guzman? I keep getting the busy message."
"No."
"Do you know which San Antonio hospital he works at? He once told me, but I forgot. My server doesn't know either. Fucking theopathic bastards."
"No, I don't know that either."
Aquinas stop pacing and tilted his head, listening to a voice only he could hear. "Oh, thank God! He's all the way on the other side of town. He's all right."
"Why, what happened?"
He gave Ransom that "you've got to be kidding" look. "Haven't you been watching the news?" Then he disappeared.
Ransom had told his server long ago to notify him of any thing big that happened in the news. But he was never able to teach his server exactly what he meant by "big." He got really angry one day when his server bothered him while he was, um, doing what men do when they're alone, to tell him that a famous volleyball player was arrested. Ransom didn't care for sports, In a moment of rage, he told his server to never bother him for a news story again.
Ransom went to his mountain shack. He opened a video window and asked his server for a live news feed. The video screen displayed a building, about five stories tall, covered in plastic sheeting. It read,
LIVE:
Sacred Heart Medical Plaza
San Antonio, SoTex
A woman's voice spoke, "The United Cell and Clone Corporation announced that they would release a statement at noon, Eastern Time. Seventh Day Wellness Corporation announced that it would release a statement at that same time. Both Corporations have reported that their corporate security is on full alert. The Sacred Heart Medical Building is owned jointly by UC&C and Seventh Day. UC&C headquarters in Shanghai has..."
Ransom interrupted the live feed. "Server, back search this news channel. Two hours. Key statement, if you're just joining us, or, if you're just tuning in, or something similar."
This time a man spoke, "If you've just logged on, we are covering this breaking news story. The President has raised the Homeland Security alert from code green to code red, after a biological terrorist attack in San Antonio, discovered just two hours ago."
The same woman from before, "San Antonio Police and Emergency Services, as well as the security forces of UC&C, and Seventh Day Wellness Have all been on the scene since nine thirty, Central Time. They've cordoned off several blocks surrounding The Sacred Heart Medical Plaza, the apparent target of the attack. They have quarantined the building, and have removed everyone that was in it." On the video, Ransom could see guys in bright yellow, hermetically sealed biohazard suits running in and out of the building.
"The death toll is rising. At least one hundred have died from exposure. Hundreds more are violently ill. Doctors and emergency workers are racing against the clock, getting treatment to those who can still be saved. UC&C Security has reported that bioterrorists have apparently used an airborne RNA toxin, similar to the bioweapon used in the attack on a subway station in Seoul, Korea by The Light of the Universe cult back in 2028. The method used to disperse the toxin is not yet known. A group claiming responsibility for the attack has broadcast a simple text message throughout the Net. They call themselves Judgment Force, a Christian religious extremist group. Their target, an abortion clinic contracted through United Cell and Clone run out of the second floor of the building."
Ransom didn't know how to feel. He didn't feel sad. He didn't know anyone in San Antonio except Guzman. He addressed his server, "Bring back the live news feed."
The man was speaking again, "SoTex Governor Clarke is already on the scene assessing the attack. She is expected to address the state at quarter after twelve. The..."
The woman interrupted. "Matt, we're getting breaking news. Seventh Day Security has reported... Oh my Go..." She stopped for a moment and stared at the unseen prompt. "They have reported that one of the victims is Evangelist Claude Virunga. In the Sacred Heart Building at the time of the attack, the Reverend Virunga received treatment after he was carried out of the fifth floor offices owned by Seventh Day Corporation. The Rwandan born American Evangelist is recognized as one of the world's greatest religious leaders, and has been called by some a modern day prophet. Claude Virunga, founder of the Transadventist Church and leader of the Transadventist Revival... dead at age forty-six."
Ransom knew of Claude Virunga very well. He'd read several of his books and watched a few of his videos. He had even seen him speak live before. But Ransom couldn't say that he knew him. He knew that the world had just lost a very intelligent man, and a great humble servant of God. Maybe he could feel sorry about that. But Ransom still didn't feel sad.
The news anchor was visibly upset however. She wiped a tear from her left cheek and took a deep breath. "I apologize to our audience for my display of emotion. I am a Transadventist Christian, and have met The Reverend Virunga many times. I've known him for years. He was... is an incredible human being. I first met him when I was working in Orlando, and he had just started his ministry. Bring up a few good clips in that interview from early in my career. No, not that one... Yes."
The video screen filled with the face of Claude Virunga. A black man, he had the lighter-brown complexion of a Tutsi, even though he was descended of the Hutu ethnic group. His face always had a jovial demeanor. How someone who'd been through so much horror in his life could be so happy all the time, Ransom never understood.
Claude Virunga
Leader of the Transadventist Movement
Orlando, CenFlo; April 2014
The camera switched over to the face of a younger version of the female news anchor. Virunga looked younger too. but Ransom always thought that he looked older than a man his age should. "Reverend Virunga, in the seven points of your Transadventist Declaration, one of the points stated that America must repent of the sin of Sodom, or they will receive the wrath of The Lord. Is this a condemnation of homosexuality?"
Virunga was a brilliant speaker. He had an East African accent that was not too heavy, just strong enough to make him sound unique without putting off his American audience. "No, no, no. First off, our saviour did not bring condemnation to the gay. The sin of Sodom is not homosexual behavior, as is the common misconception. God's wrath was brought about by a far greater evil, that is, a lack of compassion. The prophet Ezekiel said that this was the sin of your sister Sodom, comfort and excess of food, without helping the poor. A lack of compassion, this is why God destroyed them."
Another clip. The news anchor asked, "Do you really think that Armaggedon will come in your lifetime?"
His face became suddenly serious. "I'm not going to presume to make a date for the Day of The Lord God Almighty. Many so-called prophets have made that mistake. Only The Father knows the day and time. However, I do believe what I believe God has revealed to me. Mankind is now in a transitional stage, heading for the imminent Advent of Jesus Christ." He laughs nervously. "Many people look at me like I'm crazy when I tell them I believe that the world will soon end. People think that it will never happen. But just think how close the world came to ending in World War Two. Less than a century ago. The two great Beasts of Nazi Germany and The Empire of Japan, arose to lay the world to waste. The Jews of Eastern Europe saw their world end." He stared away from the camera at something very far away. "I saw my world end. I saw violence spread like a virus. I saw how easily men could become animals. That was just twenty years ago. Do I think that I will live to see the Armeggedon? It's very possible. Maybe even likely. But I pray to God that I don't."
The old interview clips ended. The anchorwoman appeared on screen. Her eyes were red and puffy. But she spoke in the same professional voice she used before. "The Reverend Claude Virunga received his wish, as today he has gone to a better place."
The anchorman spoke, "San Antonio PD has reported that the official death toll is one hundred, twelve. Police are looking throughout the city for people who may have been exposed to the bioweapon through a short visit to the Medical Plaza. A great tragedy has been made all the more tragic with the death of a man who has touched the lives of so many. We now go to Jasmine Smith, our correspondent live on the scene."
Ransom closed the video window. He still didn't feel sad. But he knew what was going to happen. He would contemplate this tragedy. It would upset him. Claude Virunga is only the first. The personal stories of the victims of this attack will start to come out. It would all upset him. Ransom wanted to get his mind off of it. Right away. "Server, load a three-dee movie from my archive. It's called Iraqi Babe Search, or something."
Eroti-Vision Presents:
Iraqi Nympho Search: Part 7
Babes of Baghdad
Ransom was standing in a hotel room. A greasy looking guy in a trench-coat was sitting on the bed next to a young woman in tight clothing.
"What's your name?" asked trench-coat.
"Nala." she smiled and rolled her eyes as she said it.
"You like Americans, Nala?"
Ransom laughed. "What did you do after you heard about the San Antonio tragedy, Ransom?" asked himself. "I looked at porn. I'm such a perv."
His wrist-server chimed.
INCOMING CALL: Seventh Day Wellness Corp Human Resources
Damn. Ransom turned off the porn and answered it.
"Hello, Mr Archer. I talked to you yesterday. Listen, we need good people in our security department in the worst way. If you could go in to talk to the guys in our Baseball City office about a job, we would really appreciate it."
"Uh. What about the on the job training program in the cytology labs?"
"I'll be honest with you. They're not going to select you for that program. But let me tell you about this. If you work for the Company for twelve months, then you can matriculate at Seventh Day University for free. Then you can earn the certification for any job you want. A smart guy like you can work full time and go to school too. I bet you could sleep through these courses and still pass them.
"Um."
"Do you need money, Mr Archer? Mr Rubenstein, the head of the Baseball City Safety and Security department said that he can give you as much overtime hours as you want."
"Uh."
"I'm going to appeal to your sense of duty, Mr. Archer. Are you the type of person who wants to help people? I'm sure you heard about what happened in San Antonio. Right now, the world needs security officers. Come on, man. What do ya say?"
Help people. Right. Ransom answered, "When should I come in?"
Archer, Ransom; Medical Courier; Class G (Armed)
As far as the denizens and guests of Cosmopolis, as well as the terrorists who invade it go, it was Ransom's whole existence and purpose rapped up in one short line of data.
But Ransom did have a duty. He had the responsibility of answering to his employers. A threat that was much more tangible than having to answer to the possible millions who could benefit from Beatrice.
Worrying about whether he would be fired was a crude motivation. Especially for someone who has quit, and been fired as many times as Ransom. He mustn't forget the reason he left the world's largest media corporation to work for the the world's largest health care organization. He wanted to help people.
He wanted to help Jesse.
Ransom was cruising east on the highway. It was a nice day, not too hot. He was taking the short trip from Baseball to downtown Orlando to apply for a job. He could have applied in Baseball City, but he hadn't seen the big city in a while. He figured he could walk around a bit after he spoke to the human resources people. Ransom had never seen the Seventh Day headquarters up close before.
Thankfully, there were no traffic jams. His fuel cells had been acting up lately, and he'd hate to overheat. He passed the county line and could already see the massive towers casting shadows miles long. The skyline of Orlando had many mega-towers built by at least eight of the Big Ten Corporations, including a regional headquarters, and a world headquarters.
The most striking example of skyscraping was the 220 story Nippon Fullerene Building. The soaring monument to Japanese ingenuity was similar to thirty-two other buildings owned by NF planted all over North America. It's girders were made of carbon nanotube composite compiled one atom at a time. The southeastern regional corporate headquarters of General Telepresence was housed in a giant Fuller-dome. It was a larger version of the old EPCOT dome, built in honor of the tourist attraction that was destroyed by terrorists seventeen years ago. Ransom remembered when he was a little kid, driving with his mother long ago. She told him it was God's golf ball.
His destination dominated the skyline. Three huge 200 story towers, one for each member of The Trinity. Ransom thought that he could see one of the parabolic dishes that deflects test fires from graser weapons mounted onto the US Space Guard Defense Satellites that patrol the skies and protect large buildings.
He pulled into the parking garage. His wrist-server chimed as twenty dollars was taken out of his credit account. The security guard at the entrance waved at Ransom and pointed at the small amount of steam coming from under the hood of Ransom's car. He said thank you and smiled to hide his annoyance. He appreciated other people looking out for him. But did they really think him so ignorant as to not notice steam billowing out from his own car?
Ransom walked up to street level. He thought about whether he'd be doing what that parking attendant is doing now if he was hired. How fun. Whatever. A job is a job.
He walked past a bunch of restaurants, all of them vegetarian. He would have to go at least six blocks to get out of Seventh Day territory and get some real food. A swarthy fat guy wearing an Orlando baseball cap was selling analog hot dogs from a cart on the corner. The dogs were made of a "genetically enhanced" fungus. No thank you.
Ransom found himself staring at the awesome sight of the triplet towers. Ambulatory hovercraft were coasting in and out of the tower farthest away from him, tower three, which held the third largest hospital in the country. He stopped gawking when he noticed a family of Hindu tourists doing the exact same thing. Ransom looked at his feet and saw a plaque set into the ground just a few meters from the largest fountain he had ever see. It read;
Seventh Day Wellness Corporation
World Headquarters
Dedicated this day, December 25, 2025
For the glory of God.
The lobby was gigantic, and the inside was a zoo. Literally. Many animals that were at one time considered endangered or even extinct roamed freely in the partitioned biosphere. Ransom spotted a group of very sick looking people in wheelchairs sitting underneath two nude statues, which he assumed represented Adam and Eve. They were watching Florida panther cubs play in the dirt. According to the display at the entrance to the lobby, the natural oasis in the middle of the urban jungle was built to lift the spirits of the patients and strengthen their psychoimmunological response, with supposedly quantifiable results. Ransom saw his reflection in the partition and checked his tie,
He made his way to Human Resources. He talked to a bot interviewer who all but hired him save for the formality of shaking hands with a flesh and blood corporate officer.
"Mr Archer, please sit down." The HR manager had a West Indian accent that Ransom couldn't quite place. Maybe Trinidadian. "Let's see. You've applied for a job as a security and safety officer, and an entry-level bioreactor technician. Tell me why you want a job in the cytology labs."
"I understand that this place has one of the most advanced cytology labs in the world." said Ransom. "I'm really interested in cytology. I took Intro to Microbiology in college and I got an A."
"Yes. Well a bioreactor tech performs the day to day maintenance on the bioreactors. Cleaning them, prepping them, and monitoring the active reactors producing cell cultures, tissues, and organs for transplant. It's not a hard job. But you need certification for that particular job which you don't have. So I'm sorry, but I can get you a job in the Security and Safety Department."
"But I've researched this job." said Ransom. "You guys have this program that offers on the job training and pays for bioreactor tech certification for qualified applicants."
The interviewer looked confused for a moment. "Oh yes. I forgot about that. We do have a program of on the job training. Um... but we only offer the program to a few applicants each year. And we may have filled the quota this year. I'll have to check on that. But I will tell you, the selection process is very rigorous."
Ransom was already becoming discouraged. "Well what do I need to do to make myself more likely to be selected? Convert to Transadventism?"
The interviewer laughed abruptly. "I do hope you're joking. Seventh Day Corporation has a policy of separation of Church and Company. I could be reprimanded for simply suggesting such a thing. I mean, becoming a convert couldn't hurt. But you could get in big trouble."
"With who? The church?"
"No. With God. I have been a Transadventist for years now. I go to service every Saturday. But that means nothing in the eyes of God." The interviewer crossed his arms and frowned. "The only reason a man should convert is if he is being lead by the Spirit."
"Uh... I was only joking."
"With your permission, I would like to check your academic records."
"Yeah, no problem." said Ransom.
The interviewer pulled a scroll notebook out of his desk. He unrolled it and asked his server to retrieve Ransom's records from the Net and display them on the notebook. "Well, your grades are very impressive. Um, did you drop out of college?"
"Yeah. I was having some problems and I had to take a break from school."
"What kind of problems?"
"Personal problems." answered Ransom.
"Your academic record has several interruptions."
"Well, I had to take a few breaks."
"No wonder you couldn't finish your degree." The interviewer continued to stare at the notebook while making a low humming noise. "You also have several interruptions in your work record. You've been employed by General Telepresence Corporation all your adult life. But your employment has been on again off again. And you keep switching departments. It says you worked in their Retail Department as a clerk. You worked in one of their restaurants. You were independently contracted by the corporation as construction laborer. You worked as a lifeguard in one of their water parks. For the last three years, you've been working for their Resort Security department. And now you want to try something totally different.
"Now, Mr Archer, I'm not trying to judge you. But you appear to be the type of person who can't stay committed to one thing and follow it through. It seems like you just can't decide what you want to do with your life."
Ransom couldn't speak. This guy was much more thorough than anybody he had ever talked to in the General Telepresence HR Department. And Ransom felt that he had totally lost control of the situation. He couldn't think of a diplomatic, euphemistic way of saying that he was a loser. A screw-up. Prone to depression. And that he really didn't know what he wanted to do with his life. But that he was older now, and he was willing to change.
The interviewer must have taken pity on him, and broke the uncomfortable silence. "But you've never been fired from any job you've had with General Telepresence. And when you were working, you were never flagged in a way that affected your rehire status. Your criminal record is clean. And you did get an A in Microbiology. I know I didn't do that. Ha! I think I took Pottery one-oh-one instead. I'll tell you what. I'll talk to few people and put in your application for the work training program. Or, I can give you a job as a security officer right now."
It was a dilemma. He needed money desperately. But as usual with Ransom, all that was quixotic about him silenced any voice of financial responsibility in his soul. "I really wanted that job in the cytology labs."
"Okay, Mr. Archer. I will get back to you."
He should have just said no, thought Ransom. Why must people be so dishonest. After returning home, Ransom became ninety-nine point nine percent sure that "I will get back to you." meant no. He went to his room with his stereoscopic goggles in one hand, and his good friend Jim Beam in the other. He met Rodney at Buddy's Tavern. They both agreed to get shit-faced together. Ransom never drank alone. He always needed company, even if it was virtual company.
Ransom woke up on the floor with his telepresence goggles still on his head. Rodney was nowhere to be found, but he received a prompt from Aquinas asking him to talk, ASAP. Ransom went to the Superhuman League to find Aquinas quickly pacing about and mumbling.
"Fucking fundies. Fucking right-wing wacko Christians."
"Aquinas, what's up?"
His eyes were wild. "Ransom, have you heard from Guzman? I keep getting the busy message."
"No."
"Do you know which San Antonio hospital he works at? He once told me, but I forgot. My server doesn't know either. Fucking theopathic bastards."
"No, I don't know that either."
Aquinas stop pacing and tilted his head, listening to a voice only he could hear. "Oh, thank God! He's all the way on the other side of town. He's all right."
"Why, what happened?"
He gave Ransom that "you've got to be kidding" look. "Haven't you been watching the news?" Then he disappeared.
Ransom had told his server long ago to notify him of any thing big that happened in the news. But he was never able to teach his server exactly what he meant by "big." He got really angry one day when his server bothered him while he was, um, doing what men do when they're alone, to tell him that a famous volleyball player was arrested. Ransom didn't care for sports, In a moment of rage, he told his server to never bother him for a news story again.
Ransom went to his mountain shack. He opened a video window and asked his server for a live news feed. The video screen displayed a building, about five stories tall, covered in plastic sheeting. It read,
LIVE:
Sacred Heart Medical Plaza
San Antonio, SoTex
A woman's voice spoke, "The United Cell and Clone Corporation announced that they would release a statement at noon, Eastern Time. Seventh Day Wellness Corporation announced that it would release a statement at that same time. Both Corporations have reported that their corporate security is on full alert. The Sacred Heart Medical Building is owned jointly by UC&C and Seventh Day. UC&C headquarters in Shanghai has..."
Ransom interrupted the live feed. "Server, back search this news channel. Two hours. Key statement, if you're just joining us, or, if you're just tuning in, or something similar."
This time a man spoke, "If you've just logged on, we are covering this breaking news story. The President has raised the Homeland Security alert from code green to code red, after a biological terrorist attack in San Antonio, discovered just two hours ago."
The same woman from before, "San Antonio Police and Emergency Services, as well as the security forces of UC&C, and Seventh Day Wellness Have all been on the scene since nine thirty, Central Time. They've cordoned off several blocks surrounding The Sacred Heart Medical Plaza, the apparent target of the attack. They have quarantined the building, and have removed everyone that was in it." On the video, Ransom could see guys in bright yellow, hermetically sealed biohazard suits running in and out of the building.
"The death toll is rising. At least one hundred have died from exposure. Hundreds more are violently ill. Doctors and emergency workers are racing against the clock, getting treatment to those who can still be saved. UC&C Security has reported that bioterrorists have apparently used an airborne RNA toxin, similar to the bioweapon used in the attack on a subway station in Seoul, Korea by The Light of the Universe cult back in 2028. The method used to disperse the toxin is not yet known. A group claiming responsibility for the attack has broadcast a simple text message throughout the Net. They call themselves Judgment Force, a Christian religious extremist group. Their target, an abortion clinic contracted through United Cell and Clone run out of the second floor of the building."
Ransom didn't know how to feel. He didn't feel sad. He didn't know anyone in San Antonio except Guzman. He addressed his server, "Bring back the live news feed."
The man was speaking again, "SoTex Governor Clarke is already on the scene assessing the attack. She is expected to address the state at quarter after twelve. The..."
The woman interrupted. "Matt, we're getting breaking news. Seventh Day Security has reported... Oh my Go..." She stopped for a moment and stared at the unseen prompt. "They have reported that one of the victims is Evangelist Claude Virunga. In the Sacred Heart Building at the time of the attack, the Reverend Virunga received treatment after he was carried out of the fifth floor offices owned by Seventh Day Corporation. The Rwandan born American Evangelist is recognized as one of the world's greatest religious leaders, and has been called by some a modern day prophet. Claude Virunga, founder of the Transadventist Church and leader of the Transadventist Revival... dead at age forty-six."
Ransom knew of Claude Virunga very well. He'd read several of his books and watched a few of his videos. He had even seen him speak live before. But Ransom couldn't say that he knew him. He knew that the world had just lost a very intelligent man, and a great humble servant of God. Maybe he could feel sorry about that. But Ransom still didn't feel sad.
The news anchor was visibly upset however. She wiped a tear from her left cheek and took a deep breath. "I apologize to our audience for my display of emotion. I am a Transadventist Christian, and have met The Reverend Virunga many times. I've known him for years. He was... is an incredible human being. I first met him when I was working in Orlando, and he had just started his ministry. Bring up a few good clips in that interview from early in my career. No, not that one... Yes."
The video screen filled with the face of Claude Virunga. A black man, he had the lighter-brown complexion of a Tutsi, even though he was descended of the Hutu ethnic group. His face always had a jovial demeanor. How someone who'd been through so much horror in his life could be so happy all the time, Ransom never understood.
Claude Virunga
Leader of the Transadventist Movement
Orlando, CenFlo; April 2014
The camera switched over to the face of a younger version of the female news anchor. Virunga looked younger too. but Ransom always thought that he looked older than a man his age should. "Reverend Virunga, in the seven points of your Transadventist Declaration, one of the points stated that America must repent of the sin of Sodom, or they will receive the wrath of The Lord. Is this a condemnation of homosexuality?"
Virunga was a brilliant speaker. He had an East African accent that was not too heavy, just strong enough to make him sound unique without putting off his American audience. "No, no, no. First off, our saviour did not bring condemnation to the gay. The sin of Sodom is not homosexual behavior, as is the common misconception. God's wrath was brought about by a far greater evil, that is, a lack of compassion. The prophet Ezekiel said that this was the sin of your sister Sodom, comfort and excess of food, without helping the poor. A lack of compassion, this is why God destroyed them."
Another clip. The news anchor asked, "Do you really think that Armaggedon will come in your lifetime?"
His face became suddenly serious. "I'm not going to presume to make a date for the Day of The Lord God Almighty. Many so-called prophets have made that mistake. Only The Father knows the day and time. However, I do believe what I believe God has revealed to me. Mankind is now in a transitional stage, heading for the imminent Advent of Jesus Christ." He laughs nervously. "Many people look at me like I'm crazy when I tell them I believe that the world will soon end. People think that it will never happen. But just think how close the world came to ending in World War Two. Less than a century ago. The two great Beasts of Nazi Germany and The Empire of Japan, arose to lay the world to waste. The Jews of Eastern Europe saw their world end." He stared away from the camera at something very far away. "I saw my world end. I saw violence spread like a virus. I saw how easily men could become animals. That was just twenty years ago. Do I think that I will live to see the Armeggedon? It's very possible. Maybe even likely. But I pray to God that I don't."
The old interview clips ended. The anchorwoman appeared on screen. Her eyes were red and puffy. But she spoke in the same professional voice she used before. "The Reverend Claude Virunga received his wish, as today he has gone to a better place."
The anchorman spoke, "San Antonio PD has reported that the official death toll is one hundred, twelve. Police are looking throughout the city for people who may have been exposed to the bioweapon through a short visit to the Medical Plaza. A great tragedy has been made all the more tragic with the death of a man who has touched the lives of so many. We now go to Jasmine Smith, our correspondent live on the scene."
Ransom closed the video window. He still didn't feel sad. But he knew what was going to happen. He would contemplate this tragedy. It would upset him. Claude Virunga is only the first. The personal stories of the victims of this attack will start to come out. It would all upset him. Ransom wanted to get his mind off of it. Right away. "Server, load a three-dee movie from my archive. It's called Iraqi Babe Search, or something."
Eroti-Vision Presents:
Iraqi Nympho Search: Part 7
Babes of Baghdad
Ransom was standing in a hotel room. A greasy looking guy in a trench-coat was sitting on the bed next to a young woman in tight clothing.
"What's your name?" asked trench-coat.
"Nala." she smiled and rolled her eyes as she said it.
"You like Americans, Nala?"
Ransom laughed. "What did you do after you heard about the San Antonio tragedy, Ransom?" asked himself. "I looked at porn. I'm such a perv."
His wrist-server chimed.
INCOMING CALL: Seventh Day Wellness Corp Human Resources
Damn. Ransom turned off the porn and answered it.
"Hello, Mr Archer. I talked to you yesterday. Listen, we need good people in our security department in the worst way. If you could go in to talk to the guys in our Baseball City office about a job, we would really appreciate it."
"Uh. What about the on the job training program in the cytology labs?"
"I'll be honest with you. They're not going to select you for that program. But let me tell you about this. If you work for the Company for twelve months, then you can matriculate at Seventh Day University for free. Then you can earn the certification for any job you want. A smart guy like you can work full time and go to school too. I bet you could sleep through these courses and still pass them.
"Um."
"Do you need money, Mr Archer? Mr Rubenstein, the head of the Baseball City Safety and Security department said that he can give you as much overtime hours as you want."
"Uh."
"I'm going to appeal to your sense of duty, Mr. Archer. Are you the type of person who wants to help people? I'm sure you heard about what happened in San Antonio. Right now, the world needs security officers. Come on, man. What do ya say?"
Help people. Right. Ransom answered, "When should I come in?"
posted by Graham at 5:06 AM
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