Abacus Brief Ch 15: fighting pirates

Hotel Two is entering its second month. Gross physical attacks have diminished as the major powers that were backing the illegitimate government have strategically withdrawn. Daniel and Shawny's paired ideas of news platforms moving over capitals as our teams directed satellite debris to a precision landing seem to have them reweighing their priorities. There were many lawsuits filed, nationally and in international courts. We ignored them. Such suits violate native sovereignty.

As a business, the resort is exceeding everyone's expectations, except Daniel's. We are still avoiding 100% occupancy, but not by much. We need available space for problems, unexpected VIPs (publicity), and family vacations for new hires.

Once other hotels on the island quit complaining about us stealing customers they didn't have (if ever), they will learn to profit by sending their guests here for a day, extending stays. They still have beautiful beaches and established tourist venues. There is still too much violence in their neighborhoods. Today we stop much of that. Then their beaches and famous restaurants will extend our guest's stays. We are already working on expansions, our Sphereport can handle much more traffic. So far limited Underlava accommodations are experiencing huge demand. The new Waterfall Penthouses will be in the basement. Zero man made security issues, at least here.

Many of the Island leaders arrived last night for todays meeting, the only freebie they can expect from us. There have been a lot of complaints about the two drink limit in our restaurants, some compensated by knocking themselves out in their hotel rooms. The old hotel saying, "We rent rooms, not morality," seems to be one place these big wigs agree with privacy and freedom. Of course to them all laws are subject to their interpretation. One even quoted an ancient justification for governmental privilege, "It depends on what my definition of is, is." He still didn't get more than the two alcoholic drinks within 24 hours. He did enjoy our boozless drinks, and probably snuck in a jigger or two of flask juice.

There is a party atmosphere. Most of these monsters realize they've lost, for now. There is a newer, bigger shark in the pool. They also know prosperity is coming to the island, more pockets to pick. They are top bureaucrats in large organizations. All they need is to convince me I need them during the transition to my dictatorship, monarchy, president for life, or whatever. They will still have dedicated underlings run the army, police, health, and education monopolies while they haul in the graft. Give it time and maybe I'll get assassinated, then they can take over a wealthy country. You can almost hear they brains clicking: Jackpot. Cool!

There are individually labeled tables in the back of the room for each, enough chairs in the front for all of them, a podium to address each area. As they arrive it's like first day of school, old friendships, rivalries, and pecking orders establish themselves quickly. Reputations are reinforced by appropriate childish actions. It's worse than first day of school, somehow more infantile in adults.

Jack is in the crowd, and afforded the same recognition he has always received, he's proof a fellow can get ahead in this new administration. They are all clustered in cliques at the front of the room when Nancy walks in the back and proceeds toward the podium to start things going. This time she's a knockout. Looking native in a business dress, nice curves, long legs, mid height heals. She gets whistles and cat calls from type A adolescents, until one reaches out and grabs her bodily, quickly retreating with what will be a nice black eye.

"Assault! I want her arrested and sent to my room for questioning. I didn't come here to be assaulted."

I enter the room. Nancy comes up to the front, turns on her lavaliere mike and addresses me. "Moon will you investigate?" I take over for a minute. Security enters the room from many points, big natives with bigger war clubs. they stand quietly and the bureaucrats sit down, point taken. Several news walls light along the periphery, and show an instant replay of the action. He grabbed her forcefully, she defended herself. I speak to Nancy, "He's right, it was assault, do you want to press charges?"

A murmurer goes through the room. It's not supposed to happen this way. They are supposed to be asked to be witnesses, they will accuse her, she is to be sent to the general's room to be taught a painful lesson. He is not gentle. The staff then becomes compliant to all of them. It's always worked that way.

Nancy says, "I will let him leave the island today without prosecution. If he stays I want his assault tried and punished. Now I'll have an itch I can't scratch."

Nancy steps to the podium, "Each of you has a private table in the back, they are labeled. Please find and sit at yours now. When they ignore her to discuss the incident she adds, "Children, You have ten minutes, any still standing after that will be will be offered an immediate choice between a waiting off island sphere, or tribal justice."

They don't like that at all. There are shouts, profanities, talks of civil disobedience against me, and groupings of angry protest suggesting violence. They look at their current president, he walks back and talks to a heavily tribal tattooed security officer who points out a table. In five minutes they are all at their seats. Or should I say in a seat, many act like we are substitute teachers, and switch seats, trying to appear clever.

Staff comes out with a personalized, thick printout for each. On top is a syllabus, below is a copy of their dossier. Tech is wonderful. Staff needs no extra steps, the dossiers were issued by where the miscreants actually sat. No staff member is assaulted, bullies can be taught.

Jack, opens his dossier. It has a syllabus and a form from accounting. It's a debit page with one word and a red stamp, Remediated: "Paid In Full."

Shawny and I enter the room.

The impact of the dossiers is almost immediate. An initial outcry of protest, and then silence as their book of sins opens before them, Personalized. It's twenty minutes before any of them look up, twenty five, before most of them sit back, ready for the worst. No one shares their file with a neighbor.

Shawny's turn. "That file copy is now yours, it's just a physical memory device. Take it with you, or place it in the top right drawer of your desk, then close the drawer, it will incinerate." Some whining, but almost all the files go into a drawer. More than one drawer is reopened to confirm the ashes. "Drinks are served in the back of the room, take a seat in the front within ten minutes."

Some haven't taken seats in ten minutes, I start anyway. "I realize some of you had more opportunity to abuse your authority than others, and hence have abused it more. We are not grading on the curve. You have all seen your dossiers, none can claim innocence. A sin is aiming at something good and missing, we haven't bothered with your sins. A fiduciary responsibility is a requirement for seeing to the best interests of those you represent, we have noted few instances of flagrant fiduciary failures, although we could write a library about those violations. What your files held was records of what can only be called crimes against humanity. Those we have proven."

Jack walks out of the room carrying his file, a free man.

There is a story told around campfires about a single Mongol that stopped a caravan, had everyone dismount, and get on their knees in a line. The Mongol started down the line, chopping off a head, examining his blade, then stepping to the next victim. A person at the end of the line jumped up and rushed at the warrior, after he showed he was able to battle one on one, others joined him. They buried their dead and the warrior far off the trail, and sped away. When that first brave soul asked why the others continued to wait for execution, they replied, "We didn't want to make the Mongol mad."

No protest now from the island leaders, they don't want to anger the warrior.

I continue. "You have two choices, you can follow orders, or you can go to jail to await trial. In either case the evidence against you will be released to the citizen media first, then to the world. If you follow orders, there will be a delay before release."

Barely a murmur is heard, and that is quickly shushed. These brilliant and unethical people are searching for a way to escape. "You promised us safe passage."

"And you have had it. You will continue to have it, on your way to jail, or on your way off island." There I said it, a way of escape, off island. Another murmurer from the disposed.

"The basic path is simple, although it will vary depending on your prior responsibilities. You will shut down your bureaucracy, completely, tomorrow. You will be provided a generic hacker program for you, your spouse, and children under 18 years of age -- exceptions may be granted to include the infirm or aged. You will be shipped off island, never to return, never again to enter governance. On any questions or disagreements, tribal counsel decisions are final."

That tribal statement got them, totally unexpected. "We are supposed to defer to an inferior race? Outrageous."

Shawny smiles. "That race just defeated you. If we wish, we can now be your masters. Instead tribal elders want everyone to have freedom, and to benefit from tribal law. This island will finally find peace." I continue. "If you wish to follow orders, return to your desk and they will be given you. If at any time you prefer to have your day in tribal court, talk to one of the security warriors. You will be escorted to jail."

They may not have noticed, but security is working a break rotation, regularly being relieved. It looks like the warriors are getting bigger, but maybe it is just the former career felons getting smaller.

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Will YOUR life be based on what you want to use it to accomplish, or by random urges of what you want to do?