'I don't understand why I haven't heard more about this before. I mean, an entire continent? For wilderness recreation? And then you don't tell anyone about it?'
'To publicize it is to spoil it. We don't want the refugee community lobbying to go back; they have new lives now. We don't want pilgrims or mourners or looters. And United Corporations didn't set this up to make big money, or post big numbers. We did it to satisfy the craving for adventure among a select few, some of them frankly troubled, with the idea that this might help both them and society. Win-win! That this was the very best way to use the new Australia.'
Daniel shifted uncomfortably. 'How so?'
'Be honest with yourself, Daniel. Are you fulfilling your full potential at Microcore? Are you doing everything you could for United Corporations? Our superiors look at people like yourself and they wonder. He's bright. He thinks for himself. But he also has trouble fitting in. So. We can leave him at a Level 31 job and let him stop growing, becoming deadwood. Or we might find something that pushes him to the limit, that tests just what he is capable of, and thus which grooms him for future leadership in U.C. society. Outback Adventure is meant to be a transforming experience. Those allowed to go are an elite.'
'But keeping it a secret…'
'To publicize the opportunity is to cheapen it. The next thing you know there'd be cyber underground guidebooks, secret maps, and so much speculation that the journey would contain as much surprise as Planet Disney. We live in a world of twelve billion people, and a continent's preservation as complete wilderness is both bold and somewhat artificial. The board's choice would be economically controversial, to say the least. As a result, continued concerns about plague serve our purposes. So does quiet. We can't really keep you from telling a few war stories to close friends, of course, but you'll sign confidentiality agreements if you go. And believe me, they are enforced. No books, no speeches. No fame. Key people will know what you accomplished, but only them. We're not going to sacrifice the unique experience of future adventurers to satisfy the ego gratification of their predecessors. You're being offered a chance to qualify for the fraternity that really runs things on this planet of ours. There's a lot of competition to get in, and admittance is tough. You have to prove yourself. This is one way. It works.'
Daniel nodded slowly, intrigued despite his doubts. 'So who can go?'
'Ah. You're beginning to realize how rare this offer is. The answer to your question, of course, is the fit. The smart. The committed. The daring. And the dissatisfied. The ones to whom ordinary life is for some reason not enough. The oddballs, the misfits. Do you recognize yourself yet?'
Daniel said nothing.
'You go only with what you can carry on your back. Maps are prohibited. So is any weapon beyond a knife. You can take electronic devices, but only receivers: take your solar-cell TV, if you must, but leave your satellite phone at home. Our promise is that if you go, you won't know exactly where on the continent you are. Or precisely where you're going. Or how long it will take. You'll be as blind as Columbus, as bold as Magellan. No other adventure company offers such realistic challenge. We guarantee it!'
'A year's salary for that?'
'Listen to me. Everest is old, routine. You know that. The Sahara has become a holiday junket. Both Poles have resort hotels. Every river has been rafted and every reef has been dived. There's only one place of mystery left on earth: Outback Adventure's Australia. That's what the money is for, Daniel: the ultimate challenge of the ultimate wilderness. You bet it costs dearly! You have to want it so bad you can taste it! Because that's the only kind of person who can make it there.'
He took a breath. He could taste it. 'How does it work?'
'We have a meeting where you'll meet your fellow adventurers. Many decide to go in groups, something we recommend to both enhance your own survival chances and lower our transportation costs. We give you training. We have experts on the continent and books or tapes you can review on its ecology and geology. You'll go prepared. We'll give you a list of suggested equipment but it's up to you to prepare and equip yourself. You'll survive on your brain and your back. You make your preparations, train for six weeks, wait, and then we call without warning to inform you it's time to come to the Departure Port. Ready or not, here you go: we feel that edge adds to the experience, and weeds out the last few with secret doubts. You quietly quit your job in advance- don't worry, come back and you'll be wanted for something special- and fly to Departure. All volunteers are drugged to sleep for shipping.'
'Like export cargo.'
'Exactly. We transport you at night to a point somewhere in the continent's interior and set you down to awaken at dawn. Your goal is to trek to Australia's east coast and find its exit port, Exodus. Then you return to United Corporations' world, renewed and toughened. An eighteenth-century man of action in a twenty-first-century world! Survive this and you can kick corporate butt anywhere you go. But you have to survive it. There's no hospital, no rescue, no emergency food or water. We don't come get you. You're on your own.'
'Jesus.' He drummed his fingers, a nervous habit. 'What's the risk?'
Coyle pushed a button of the chair-file under his cushion. Liability forms slid out of a desk chute and he plunked them in front of Dyson with a thump. 'Some people don't make it. A lot of people, actually.' He nodded as Daniel's brows lifted. 'The risk is higher than high-altitude climbing. Sky diving. Hang gliding. Free diving. You name it. This is the riskiest thing on earth. And yet competition to participate is fierce. Only risking life, after all, makes you feel truly alive.'
'Worse than climbing?'
'Worse than many wars.'
He took a breath. 'All right, Elliott. Have you done this?'
Coyle looked at Daniel a long time without expression. 'Yes. Once.'
'And survived.'
Coyle smiled thinly. 'Living proof.'
'And were you transformed?'
The counselor had a faraway look in his eyes. 'Oh yes.'
'And now?'
'I became a believer, Daniel. A convert. An apostle. So now I'm employed explaining all this to people like you. That's what I wanted to do when I got back. It was what I was put on earth to do, I'm sure of it.'
'And you recommend it?'
'No. Never. It's so hard that I just give you a choice. You have to choose yourself. It's the choice that determines whether you're ready to go.'
'How many choose not to? Don't they spill your secret?'
He smiled. 'Frankly, few who learn this much turn us down. We're careful what we reveal, to who. Those who do say no recognize the need for discretion. We explain it to them.'
'So I can walk out of here right now?'
'Absolutely. And I'd understand perfectly. I wouldn't go now. I've got a wife, kids. I'm too old now, too soft, too content. I like this world. That's what I learned in the Outback. So I'll shake your hand and pat you on the back if you want to quit right now.' He waited.
'Quite the salesman, aren't you?' Dyson picked up the liability forms and examined them. Leave his job? Give up his savings? Go wander in the desert and maybe die out there? Was he that crazy? That unhappy? That unfulfilled?
'Don't go unless you're absolutely sure, Daniel. Don't go unless you need to find something you can't find here.'
He thought of Raven. 'Like why do I do?'
'Yes. Like that.'
He took a breath. 'Got a pen?'
Coyle handed him one.
Daniel looked at it, rotating in his fingers. Are you brave? Dr. Chen had asked. I've never had to find out.
He bent to sign his name.
'I want to test myself.'
