He set up a permanent account at the Surina Enterprise Facility so he could commandeer an office or a conference room at a moment's notice.
Where he got the money for all this, nobody knew. Jara was intimately familiar with the fiefcorp's Vault accounts, and she knew they couldn't withstand this kind of pummeling. True, the jump to number one on Primo's had provided them a good financial cushion. But Natch's reckless spending would soon put them into bankruptcy.
Somehow this prospect cheered Jara up.
So instead of protesting, Jara did as she was told. Over the next few days, she accompanied Merri to several meetings with the channeler Robby Robby. If anything, the man was even more insipid than Natch's description. He dressed in whatever ludicrous fashion the high society brats were wearing at the time-this week it was kimono pants and open-collared silk shirts-and went through programmable accents like other people went through socks. The cost of these silly peccadilloes went on the tab of the Natch Personal Programming Fiefcorp, of course.
Jara soon discovered what made Robby Robby so valuable, however: He was completely unperturbed by the idea of selling a mystery product. 'What do you think my channelers do every day?' he said, walking them through a room of baby-faced salespeople holding ConfidentialWhisper conversations from their desks. There were perhaps twenty in all, each impeccably dressed and relentlessly cheerful. 'Selling isn't about the product you're offering, Lady Merri. It's about what the customer wants.' Every time Robby Robby called her Lady Merri, Jara wanted to give him a swift kick in the knees. But though she was a Creed Objectivv devotee, Merri got along with the slick salesman just fine.
Meanwhile, Horvil worked feverishly through the weekend to find capable engineering candidates who would fit Natch's high standards. He managed to round up a dozen applicants. All had the credentials to work in the top fiefcorps, and all were eager to sign on, which was no small accomplishment in such a tight labor market. But Natch found fault with every one of them. He even managed to send a top-flight engineer from the Deuteron Fiefcorp fleeing an interview in tears.
Finally, an exasperated Horvil brought in his nineteen-year-old cousin Benyamin for an interview. Horvil meant it as something of a joke. Ben's only real-world experience was an apprenticeship managing a floor of assembly-line coders, and he was the youngest son of Horvil's dreaded Aunt Berilla to boot. But to everyone's surprise, Natch made the boy an apprenticeship offer on the spot. Benyamin readily accepted.
'I don't get it,' Jara told Horvil after he had relayed the story to her. 'No offense, Horv, but Natch has been turning away everyone. How did Benyamin convince that bastard to hire a nineteen-year-old kid with no experience?'
Horvil shrugged. 'I dunno.'
'So how many hours was Natch grilling him?'
'Less than one. Ben says that Natch listened to his pitch without saying a word, and then asked him just one question. You're not going to go crying to your mother the first time I keep you up three days in a row, are you?'
The outside world did not come to a standstill while the fiefcorp beefed up its operations. In the midst of all the commotion, Pierre Loget released a bevy of upgrades on the Data Sea that sent his PulCorp rocketing to the top of Primo's. Billy Sterno and Lucas Sentinel quickly followed suit. For a couple of hours, the Patel Brothers sank as low as number four before they managed to pump a few more bio/logic programs into the system and reclaim the top spot.
Natch mysteriously shrugged the whole thing off and seemed content to sit in fourth place for the time being. He spent all his time reading the latest news about the Prime Committee and the Defense and Wellness Council. Jara would multi over to his apartment to find him meditating to the libertarian ravings of politician Khann Frejohr. The craggy face of High Executive Borda stared back at her from every window. When the story broke about a battalion of Council officers bivouacking in China, Natch was glued to a map of the Orient for hours.
Jara felt like a spectator in a game she didn't understand, played by titans on a board she could not see. At least the days were passing quickly now, bringing the elusive end of her apprenticeship contract closer all the time.
On Monday morning, Jara awoke and slipped into her comfortable routine like an old shirt. She had barely fired up Doze-B-Gone 91c when she was assaulted by a screaming headline from Sen Sivv Sor:
Is This the Long-Awaited New Surina Technology, or Just a Publicity Stunt?
John Ridglee's morning commentary quickly morphed to keep pace, sending his fawning profile of Pierre Loget to an out-of-the-way side column. Before long, the two drudges were engaged in a frenzied competition to see who could quote more unnamed industry sources offering the wildest speculation about the Phoenix Project.
Within an hour, the entire world had shifted its focus to the upcoming 400th birthday celebration of Sheldon Surina. Curious onlookers from Earth to Luna to the farthest orbital colonies began tracking the comings and goings at the Surina compound, hoping to find clues to what Margaret had been up to for the past twenty years. Even those with little interest in bio/logics began streaming into Andra Pradesh to soak up the electric vibe in the air.
Horvil and Jara camped on opposite sofas in the engineer's apartment and watched Surina mania overtake the Data Sea. L-PRACG politicians stood up in open sessions to spout platitudes about the impact of another breakthrough Surina technology. One after another, the creeds released statements spelling out their positions on scientific innovation. The Islanders raised their obligatory protest about technology being thrust upon them against their will; the orbital colonies raised their obligatory protest about technology not reaching them quickly enough. The bio/logics markets careened up and down as investors decided the end was near or the best was yet to come. Even the revered Bodhisattva of Creed Objectivv emerged from seclusion to make some inscrutable pronouncement about the state of Universal Truth in the wake of the Surinas' accomplishments.
'I don't get it,' Jara said, throwing her hands up in confusion.
'You've been saying that a lot lately.'
'Yes, but think about it for a minute, Horv. People have been talking about this stupid Phoenix Project for years now. Natch was just throwing around rumors about it a few days ago. Why is everybody so interested now? What's changed?'
Horvil bounced his arm off a stack of dirty laundry on the couch, trampoline-like. 'It's called public relations. The Surinas are masters at it.'
'You think all this hubbub comes from a few leaks to the drudges?'
'That's exactly what I think.'
'But-'
'Come on, Jara. Don't you remember what happened a month ago? We've seen firsthand how this shit happens.'
The analyst twirled a few stray locks of curly hair, trying to mask her sudden embarrassment. Horvil was right. They had personal expe rience with the capriciousness of the public imagination, and with the ways a few, choice power brokers could channel the energies of sixty billion people to their cause.
Horvil fixed her with a narrow-eyed stare. 'What's wrong?' he said.
'If what Merri says about us licensing the Phoenix Project is true, then all this publicity is going to be really good for business.'
'But?'
'But once Natch gets in the spotlight, who's to say someone's not going to hijack all this attention and turn it against him?'
Serr Vigal settled back into his chaise longue, mumbling something about how creaky his joints got in erratic gravity and how glad he was to be back from his latest visit to Patronell for memecorp funding. But Natch was distracted, not listening. 'Tomorrow will be a momentous day,' said the neural programmer, in an effort to catch his protege's attention.
'Tomorrow, I finally get to find out what this Phoenix Project is,' said Natch. 'It had better be worth all the trouble.'
'Margaret still won't tell you?'
