Something rotten

'Well!' said the new apologist as he skirted the desk and started to arrange his possessions around his new office. 'Is there anything you'd like us to apologise for?'

'Your corporation,' I muttered.

'Full, frank and unreservedly,' replied the apologist in the sincerest of tones.

15 Meeting the CEO

'. . . Fifty years ago we were only a small multinational with barely 7,000 employees. Today we have over 38,000,000 employees in 14,000 companies dealing in over 12,000,000 different products and services. The size of Goliath is what gives us the stability to be able to say confidently that we will be looking after you for many years to come. By 1980 our turnover was equal to the combined GNP of 72 per cent of the planet's nations. This year we see the corporation take the next great leap forward — to fully recognised religion with our own gods, demigods, priests, places of worship and prayerbook. Goliath shares will be exchanged for entry into our new faith-based corporate management system, where you (the devotees) will worship us (the gods) in exchange for protection from the world's evils and a reward in the afterlife. I know you will join me in this endeavour as you have in all our past endeavours. A comprehensive leaflet explaining how you can help further the corporation's interest in this matter will be available shortly. New Goliath. For all you'll ever need. For all you'll ever want. Ever.'

Extract from the Goliath Corporation CEO's 1988 conference speech

I walked to the main desk and gave my name to the receptionist, who, raising her eyebrows at my request, called the 110th floor, registered some surprise and then asked me to wait. I pushed Friday towards the waiting area and gave him a banana I had in my bag. I sat and watched the Goliath officials walking briskly backwards and forwards across the polished marble floors, all looking busy but seemingly doing nothing.

'Miss Next?'

There were two individuals standing in front of me. One was dressed in the dark Goliath blue of an executive; the other was a footman in full livery, holding a polished silver tray.

'Yes?' I said, standing up.

'My name is Mr Godfrey, the CEO's personal assistant's assistant. If you would be so kind?'

He indicated the tray.

I understood his request, unholstered my automatic and laid it on the salver. The footman paused politely. I got the message and placed my two spare clips on it as well. He bowed and silently withdrew, and the Goliath executive led me silently towards a roped-off elevator at the far end of the concourse. I wheeled Friday in and the doors hissed shut behind us.

It was a glass elevator that rose on the outside of the building and from our vantage point as we were whisked noiselessly heavenward I could see all of Goliathopolis's buildings reaching almost all the way down the coast to Douglas. The size of the corporation's holdings was never more so demonstrably immense — all these buildings simply administered the thousands of companies and millions of employees around the world. If I had been in a charitable frame of mind I might have been impressed by the scale and grandeur of Goliath's establishment. As it was, I saw only ill-gotten gains.

The smaller buildings were soon left behind as we continued upward, until even the other skyscrapers were dwarfed. I was staring with fascination at the spectacular view when without warning the exterior was suddenly obscured by a white haze. Water droplets formed on the outside of the elevator and I could see nothing until a few seconds later we burst clear of the cloud and into bright sunshine and a deep blue sky. I stared across the top of the clouds, which stretched away unbroken into the distance. I was so enthralled by the spectacle that I didn't realise the elevator had stopped.

'Ipsum,' said Friday, who was also impressed, and he pointed in case I had missed the view.

'Miss Next?'

I turned. To say the boardroom of the Goliath Corporation was impressive would not be doing it the justice it deserves. I was on the top floor of the building. The walls and roof were all tinted glass, and from here on a clear day you must be able to look down upon the world from the viewpoint of a god. Today it looked as though we were afloat on a cotton-wool sea. The building and its position, high above the planet both geographically and morally, perfectly reflected the corporation's dominance and power.

In the middle of the room was a long table with perhaps thirty suited Goliath board members all standing next to their seats, watching me in silence. No one said anything, and I was about to ask who the boss was when I noticed a large man staring out of the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

'Ipsum!' said Friday.

'Allow me,' began my escort, 'to introduce the Chief Executive Officer of the Goliath Corporation, John Henry Goliath V, great-great-grandson of our founder, John Henry Goliath.'

The figure staring out of the window turned to meet me. He must have been over six foot eight and was large with it. Broad, imposing and dominating. He was not yet fifty, had piercing green eyes that seemed to look straight through me, and gave me such a warm smile that I was instantly put at my ease.

'Miss Next?' he said in a voice like distant thunder. 'I've wanted to meet you for some time.'

His handshake was warm and friendly; it was easy to forget just who he was and what he had done.

'They are standing for you,' he announced, indicating the board members. 'You have personally cost us over a billion pounds in cash and at least four times that in lost revenues. Such an adversary is to be admired rather than reviled.'

The board members applauded for about ten seconds, then sat back down at their places. I noticed Brik Schitt-Hawse among them; he inclined his head to me in recognition.

'If I didn't already know the answer I would offer you a position on our board,' said the CEO with a smile. 'We're just finishing a board meeting, Miss Next. In a few minutes I shall be at your disposal. Please ask Mr Godfrey if you require any refreshments for yourself or your son.'

'Thank you.'

I asked Godfrey for an orange juice in a beaker for Friday, took him out of his pushchair and sat with him on a nearby armchair to watch the proceedings.

'Item seventy-six,' said a small man wearing a Goliath-issue cobalt-blue suit, 'Antarctica. There has been a degree of opposition to our purchase of the continent by a small minority of do-gooders who believe our use is anything but benevolent.'

'And this, Mr Jarvis, is a problem because—?' demanded John Henry Goliath V.

'Not a problem but an observation, sir. I propose that to offset any possible negative publicity we let it be known that we merely acquired the continent to generate new ecotourism-related jobs in an area traditionally considered poor in employment opportunities.'

'It shall be so,' boomed the CEO. 'What else?'

'Well, since we will take the role of 'eco-custodians' very seriously, I propose sending a fleet of ten warships to protect the continent against vandals who seek to harm the penguin population, illegally remove ice and snow and create general 'mischief'.'

'Warships eat heavily into profit margins,' said another member of the board. But Mr Jarvis had already thought of that.

'Not if we subcontract the security issue to a foreign power eager to do business with us. I have formulated a plan whereby the United Caribbean Nations will patrol the continent in exchange for all the ice and snow they want. With the purchase of Antarctica we can undercut snow exports from all the countries in the Northern Alliance.