Insequor (11 page)

“You can’t do this, Daniel.”

Daniel and Toby where outside the Judge’s office, waiting for the clerk to give them the nod. Toby was sat by the door on a leather backed chair next to a pot plant. The grand oak panelling around him made him look smaller.

Daniel was sat across the waiting room on a couch. He turned his head. “Can’t do what?”

Toby brought his hands together and his fingers started tapping against each other. “Go off gallivanting around the world. We won’t allow that.”

He looked quizzically up at the ceiling. “How exactly are you going to stop me?”

“We certainly won’t help you.” Across the room a clerk, who had been tapping away on her laptop, briefly looked up; Toby frowned and she looked straight back down.

“I don’t need your help.”

“You’ll need a passport.”

He laughed. “Maybe. Or maybe I could go to Florida, then New York? Maybe see the Grand Canyon…even the Whitehouse.”

Toby’s fingers stopped drumming.

“You can’t keep me prisoner. I’ve done nothing wrong. If you try, I’ll make sure every T.V. channel and newspaper in the world knows about it.” Daniel looked down at the floor, his expensive shoes made a satisfying noise when he lightly tapped them on the wooden boards. “You’re not in control any more. Nobody is.”

Toby shook his head. “You’d pretty soon lose public opinion if the robot was putting holes in people’s houses. Or how about a hospital Daniel? What if it walked through a retirement home? Think of that. It doesn’t stop. It never stops.”

It had been a long day. Outside an orange glow sank behind the silhouettes of the trees making way for shadows. He had been prepared for Toby and his lawyers; Mitchell had stage-managed everything. Legally there was no precedent for any of this so he had found quite early on that no lawyer could guarantee a result either way. That’s when he’d met Mitchell.

The brash Texan lawyer, with his stoic southern drawl, had persuaded him there was another option when he’d asked the question, ‘How do I take back control of my life?’ The answer was simple - make the government not want to win.

With legally confirmed ownership and, more importantly responsibility, Daniel could walk away. Literally. Of course the upshot of that would mean, ironically, Toby and his team no longer had control. Then, they would be in a better position to negotiate and Daniel intended to do so.

He looked back at Toby. His mouth was stern and his hands clenched, but it was his eyes that gave away the futility he saw descending. Toby was pragmatic, a scientist Daniel had always guessed, but he was also not used to losing control.

“Public opinion?” said Daniel.

“You’ll need them on your side if you go it alone.”

“Haven’t you seen? People love me. I’m on every channel, on the front cover of every magazine. Everyone wants my picture. There’s a whole bunch of them outside in white robes who think I’m Jesus!”

It was true. Jones had had to screen him from the lunatics who were at this very moment holding a vigil in front of the court.

Toby adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. When he spoke his voice was gentle and patient. “There must be some way we can resolve this?”

Daniel’s face was in darkness now, the late sun finally leaving for distant warm oceans.

“There is. I’ll do what you want. Keep moving back and forth to keep it in the sea.”

“And, in return?”

“I want what’s mine. The money.”

“Money?”

“It’s my robot.” Daniel said, “I get to say who uses it and when. Image rights, copyrights everything.”

Toby nodded, but his wide eyes suggested comprehension not agreement. “Ok.”

Daniel felt his shoulders sag and his stomach loosen. He undid his tie and the cool rush of hot air escaping felt good on his chest. “You know it’s everywhere? They’re using it to sell cars, perfume, holidays even candy to kids.”

Toby nodded reluctantly.

“But from now on they’ll have to go through me. You don’t like it? I walk.”

Toby spoke like a professor or school teacher; calm, but persuasive. “Maybe we
can
arrange something?”

Daniel stood up and arched back his shoulders. He was tired of being inside when he should have been outside. Tired of being outside when he should have been inside.

“I want a say. I want to sit in on all those meetings you have without me. I want access to all your files and information so I can get second opinions. I want full disclosure.”

Toby shrank back in his chair uncomfortably. He tilted his head, “That would be most difficult.”

For a few minutes neither said a thing. Daniel stood staring out of the window, Toby watched him from the wingback. Finally, the door opened and the Judge ushered them in. Two lawyers were already there; the Harvard boy stood, Mitchell seated.

Rafferty motioned for them to sit and Daniel took the chair next to Mitchell who gave him a wink, placing his case on the floor at the side of his chair delicately. The other man, Moss, sat down awkwardly; knees angled he opened his briefcase on his lap and started to rummage through. Toby stood at the back.

“Your honour,” began Moss, desperately looking up, but Rafferty cut him off with a wave of his hand.

The Judge spun around on his chair and reached up to one of books that filled the wall behind him. It was plain leather bound, blue with gold edges.

“Gentlemen, I believe we have reached an impasse. I think the only way forward through this unprecedented, and I do mean
unprecedented
, situation is to try and come to some arrangement that suits both sides. I’m afraid I don’t believe it is a matter for the courts.”

Moss spluttered. “I must protest. This man’s recklessness could cause serious, even catastrophic loss of life. If that robot walks through a nuclear power plant –”

A bang sounded across the table. Even Mitchell started. Rafferty had thrown the book down. It was a volume of cases.

He eyeballed the government lawyer across the table. “You tell me where you can find the word ‘robot’ in there.”

Daniel sat back and closed his eyes. The air conditioning vent was directly above his head and a cool breeze poured over his face. The leather chair squeaked a little as he pushed back further. Lying back, in his mind he looked up into the sky. Surging higher he went straight through the cumulonimbus above his office and surged to the warm, bright embrace of the sun. Then he hovered, his momentum suspending him before a slow descent turned into a rapid one and he awoke in his chair with a jolt.

“Are you okay?”

He blinked. The two men across his desk looked back at him with concern.

“You kind of faded out there for a bit,” said one of them.

“Sorry,” said Daniel. “I’m just quite tired. Carry on.”

The man to his left, a slim, smug looking thirty something in a suit began to speak. “Basically, we’ll pay twenty million dollars for the next two years as long as we’re guaranteed a certain amount of exposure.”

Daniel nodded and ran his tongue across his teeth. “Is this it?” He gestured to a small object draped in a cloth on his desk in front of the two.

The other man, slightly less self-assured and more excited nodded. “Yes, it’s a mock up. We’d appreciate your feedback?” He raised his eyebrows, checked he had the other’s attention before pulling the cloth off with a swish.

Revealed, underneath, was a small metal replica of the robot. Daniel gazed at it, wondering if this was how an author felt when someone made a film of his book. It was in mid-stride, its arms outstretched, which it never did; they’d clearly tried to make it look more formidable than it was. Were those eyebrows? What stood out most though was the logo for the sports company the two men represented stuck on its chest. It was small, metal, fixed over the heart area – if it had one; exactly like you would get on a polo shirt or sports jersey.

He looked past the two to the glass wall behind them. The twenty first floor of the Oakenheim Building in New York was now the sole property of Loman Limited; the company Daniel had setup to take care of his affairs and, to an extent, those of the robots. Row upon row of desks were occupied by people on phones and laptops all, in some way or another, managing his…well, his life.

There were teams handling his money, of which there was a lot; he had a Communications Manager so he didn’t have to speak to the press; several PA’s running errands and anything else he needed; there was a whole room of lawyers next door with their heads buried in sponsorship contracts and copyright infringement cases; there was a logistics team constantly organising his complex travel arrangements so he could get some semblance of a life and, finally, various other people; some of whom he wasn’t quite sure what they did.

The desks stretched away from him towards windows that commanded views of Central Park. Money had been no object. Once he had got the legal issues overcome and ran a few test cases through the courts all the corporations had stepped into line. Most were more than happy to offer Daniel money for the use of the robot’s image. True, some had shied away whilst others had designed their own robot to slap on the cover of their cereal box. But all in all he had made more than enough money to live comfortably on for the rest of his life. And now the big guns had arrived. The two men in front of him were offering twenty million dollars to have their logo attached to the robot for two years. Attached to something that spent 98% of its time underwater in the Atlantic. He smelled opportunity.

“Who puts the logo on?” he said, finally, his gaze returning to the pair.

The smug one straightened in his chair, his eyes narrowing to slits and his mouth grinning beyond likeability. “Part of the contract is that our people will take care of the insertion, as long as you agree to accept maintenance and support.”

He nodded before tilting his head thoughtfully. “In four weeks I’m due back in France. Can you move within that timeframe?”

“Absolutely,” said the keen one, nodding hysterically.

“The army will need to know and the government may want to charge expenses for their time, but they’re usually very reasonable. You do realise that it spends most of its time underwater these days?”

“We just want our logo associated with its image and any reproduction of that image.” The smug one pushed a piece of paper across the desk. “It’s all in the contract.”

Daniel looked down at the piece of paper. It was covered from top to bottom in small print, the only space at the end, a white box awaiting his signature.

“I’ll have to get my legal team to go through this.”

“Of course,” said the excited one.

“And you do realise you may not even be able to attach it? The thing’s indestructible. You’re planning to what, weld it?”

“We have several ideas we’ll be trying. In the event of us being unable to carry out the work we’ll just cancel the deal.”

“Twenty million dollars is a lot of money,” said Daniel. He brushed a finger across his top lip. He wanted them to think he was a sucker, right up until the last second.

“It is,” said smug, with more than a sense of self-satisfaction.

Daniel stood up, drummed his fingers on the desk. Walked about for a moment or two before turning around; Columbo-like. “But it’s not as much as a hundred million dollars, is it?”

They stared back, pie-eyed. “I beg your pardon?”

Daniel picked up the contract, folded it into neat quarters and then placed it in the top pocked of the smug guy. “Re-draft it, add a few more zeroes and then we’ll talk again.”

“A hundred million dollars?” They both stood up now, each looking panicky. The faces were moments ago certain they had sealed the deal. Now he escorted them, dumbfounded, out of his office. He knew they’d be back.

Sure enough the following week, on a Florida beach, Daniel stood at the edge of the ocean watching the waves amble in and lick the sand. Beside him the two corporate men were making phone calls and communicating orders. Several soldiers stood around, as they always did when the robot left the ocean, looking wary.

Smug was cool as ever and drooling through his phone to some Director back in the office, the other guy was on a short wave radio speaking to the implementation team a half mile down the beach.

If you looked in that direction you’d definitely be able to see the flashing lights of the army trucks and possibly make out the soldiers fanned out in a line walking towards you. Perhaps you might also see the small team of scientists in a mobile laboratory carefully monitoring their laptops; Toby, presumably, somewhere calmly overseeing affairs.

What you probably wouldn’t have been able to make out was the miserable man jogging alongside the robot with a welding kit on wheels desperately trying to attach the logo in question to the robot’s chest. He was not having much luck.

As the robot took each step he constantly had to adjust the stream of the welding torch, making movements up and down to compensate for its strides. On top of that the welding kit was getting caught in the sand and the two unfortunate helpers pushing it along were scared to death. Furthermore, the robot itself was now covered in a mixture of sand, salt water and encrusted with barnacles and seaweed; it looked like a moving heap of refuse.

Daniel pictured the scene and smiled inwardly. Everybody wanted a piece of it. He’d managed to get 150 million dollars out of them for just two years. If their sales went up, and his team would closely monitor their stock, he’d be able to double or even treble it.

Even as he stood here his lawyers were meeting with a breakfast cereal manufacturer, two automobile companies and a Hollywood producer who wanted the rights to his life story. Things were moving at an alarming speed and he had to sometimes stop and take a step away from it all. His latest moment of reflection had made him realise there was still someone he needed. So Detective Jones was meeting him here today on the beach.

Daniel’s PA trotted up and smiled. “Your guest has arrived, sir. Shall I bring him over here or are you heading back to the plane? Logistics say we’ve only got another 25 minutes.”

“Have him meet me on the plane, Sarah.” Daniel smiled and the young girl nodded sagely before scurrying off.

He turned to the two executives. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid our time has run out. What have you got?”

The wiry one turned, his eyes looking glum. “We’re moving on to the crazy glue.”

His colleague shot him a look that said, ‘
That was between you and me
.’ It vanished almost instantaneously and a smooth grin re-appeared.

“We’re having technical difficulties but I think everything should be resolved within the next few –“ His phone rang and he made no bones about answering it. “Ah, yes? Ok. Got you. Fantastic.”

He nodded at his colleague and gave a wink to Daniel. “We’re done.”