reason and one reason alone. Greed.”
“Greed?” I echoed skeptically. “These people have nothing!”
“It wasn’t always like that,” Saint Dane said. “At one time Quillan wasn’t much different from your Second Earth. It was quite the prosperous territory. Most people lived in comfort, which created the perfect opportunity for an enterprise like Blok.”
“What exactly is Blok?” I asked quickly. “A store?”
“Indeed” was his answer. “At least, at its core. Several generations ago a small market opened, right here in the city of Rune. Blok. Their plan for success was simple: They offered products at a lower cost than their competitors. Much lower. It was an innocent business decision. Nothing devious. At first they lost so much money they nearly had to close. But they stayed afloat for one simple reason. People couldn’t resist the lure of paying so much less for all the things they wanted. It was as simple as that. So the people of Rune abandoned the other merchants and tripped over themselves to buy their goods from Blok. Little by little the other merchants lost so much business that they had to shut down, which gave Blok even more business. As the competition dwindled, Blok slowly raised their prices, though they continued to keep them much lower than their remaining competitors. Slowly Blok became profitable and powerful. What started as a small store that sold simple items like clothing and furniture grew. Blok began selling food and automobiles, all at such low prices that thrifty consumers couldn’t pass up the bargains, which made Blok even more profitable. As their business grew, Blok moved into manufacturing. They not only sold the items, they created them. Their mandate was to manufacture items as simply and cheaply as possible. They didn’t care about style or beauty or even quality, they cared about speed. The faster and simpler an item was made, the cheaper it was to sell, and low prices are what lured people to Blok. Eventually they forced other manufacturers out of business because they couldn’t create items as quickly or as cheaply as Blok.”
Saint Dane told this story with glee, as if it were the most fascinating bedtime story ever. I never thought much about stores and prices and who sold what and why, but I had to admit that the story of Blok was interesting… in a scary kind of way.
He continued, “Blok grew. It began buying other companies, folding them into their world. They moved into energy, real estate, banking, and communications. They bought hospitals and began providing medical services. They built their own schools. People followed like hungry sheep because whatever Blok sold, people bought. They simply couldn’t resist the prices. Blok lowered their workers wages, which increased their profits even more. They were becoming so huge, and employed so many people, the workers had no choice but to agree to the horrid terms of employment. If they refused, there was always someone ready to take their place, because Blok had become the number one employer on the territory. I think on your territory you would refer to it as ‘the only game in town,” Blok eventually moved into entertainment. They made movies and music and artwork, created by people who worked for them, with the prices they set and with their vision in mind.”
Saint Dane stepped away from the window and touched a sculpture that was a square piece of steel. There was nothing artistic about it. It was just a boring hunk of steel.
“Needless to say, the art they produced wasn’t inspired, but they were able to mass produce it, while at the same time closing down the art galleries and museums, so the only works of art that people saw came from Blok. You see, art makes people think. Blok didn’t want people to think. If that happened, they might have realized what was actually happening. After a time the people came to think the art that came from Blok was actually… interesting.”
What a horrible thought. A company that created all the art in the world in order to keep people from being inspired. It now made sense why the city was so gray and lifeless.
Saint Dane continued, “Blok grew so large that the economy of several small countries became dependent on the business they provided. At first governments welcomed them because Blok promised employment to so many. And not just in manufacturing. Blok needed farmland to grow food and research facilities to create new drugs. Blok swooped into these small countries with the promise of wealth and prosperity, only to become demanding slave masters. Workers were paid measly sums for working long hours-all to meet the demands of their employers. By the time these poor people realized what was happening, it was too late. Blok had destroyed their economy while making everyone dependent on the company. It was brilliant.”
Saint Dane gestured out to the gray city beyond the window. “Everything you see has been touched by Blok,” he said, almost in awe. “The city of Rune is only one small example. It is not an exaggeration to say that Blok runs the territory. There are governments, yes. They make their laws and have their elections but they wield no real power. Everything is controlled by Blok because Blok controls the money and the minds of the people. They even have their own security force of dados. It’s about greed, Pendragon. Blok offered something the people wanted, and they were all too quick to accept. And let’s not forget the people who founded Blok. They are quite wealthy. You won’t see them living in this wretched city. Oh no. The senior leaders of Blok live in a class by themselves, all over Quillan. And at the top of that pyramid are the trustees. If you think the castle of Veego and LaBerge is opulent, you should see how the trustees live. My name is Mr. Kay to, by the way. He lived on a particularly lush island that’s only a short hop from here in my jet.” He held out his hands and looked at them as if they belonged to somebody else. “I think I chose my vessel particularly well, don’t you?”
It looked as if there’d been a real Mr. Kayto at some point, but Saint Dane stepped in and took over his identity, which meant the real Mr. Kayto was dead.
“People have been fighting wars forever, Pendragon, simply to gain power. The history of each and every territory is written in the blood of those who died trying to fulfill the aspirations of their ambitious leaders. What happened here on Quillan was so much more civilized and far more successful. There were no battles. Not a shot was fired in anger. You won’t find military cemeteries crowded with thousands of tombstones. Yet make no mistake, an entire territory has been conquered and the spoils are huge.” Saint Dane gave me a twisted smile and added with a chuckle, “And the best part of all is that I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”
I stood there, dazed, trying to understand all that he had thrown at me. Was it possible? Could a company grow so huge and powerful that it ruled an entire world?
“How do the games fit into this?” I asked.
“Ahhh! The games!” Saint Dane said with relish. “A particularly interesting sidelight. You see, my boy, greed is an addiction. It’s a machine that must constantly be fed. The trustees of Blok saw that their business had grown as large as possible. There was nothing left to conquer, nowhere left to expand. Most importantly, there were no more products to create and exploit in order to increase their own wealth. So they created one.”
“The games,” I said.
“Exactly! The games provide entertainment for the people and a constant source of revenue for the company. Blok takes a percentage of every bet placed, no matter who wins.”
“But people are betting with more than money,” I said. “I’ve seen people carted off after losing a bet.”
“Oh, yes,” Saint Dane said, laughing. “These people have very little money to wager. Of course that doesn’t stop them from gambling. The chance of improving their sorry lives is too tempting. Remember: greed. Though they may not have money to wager, they do have something that is much more valuable-their lives. When people make the ultimate bet, a win means they might have more food for their families. Food grown, processed, and sold by Blok, of course. Or they mightwin a higher-paying job… with Blok. Or a larger home… built by Blok. The possibilities are endless.” “What if they lose?” I asked.
“Several things could happen,” Saint Dane said. “Usually they are retrieved and sent to an area of Blok where their particular talents are needed. Laboring with little or no pay increases the bottom line for Blok. The losers could be separated from their families for years-in Second Earth terms. Or they could be sent for medical research, or to the tarz.”
“What is the tarz?” I asked.
“Tarz is power,” he answered. “You might call it electricity. Tarz powers the territory. But it’s volatile, much like nuclear power on Second Earth. Cleaning up the waste produced in a tarz factory is the lowest job there is. The good news is no one works in a tarz factory for long, because the waste is poisonous. I understand it is a painful death.”
I had to sit down on one of the cold black couches. It was like the weight of what Saint Dane was telling me was pushing me down. He had just described a territory that was a living nightmare. The people of Quillan were zombielike slaves to the greedy people who ran Blok. A store.
Saint Dane added, “I’ve often seen cases where fathers wager with the lives of their children.”
“No!”
