Van still didn’t see where Desoll was going, but he nodded.
“All human cultures have an economic component, and how that component operates is tied to psychology. So far as we know, no one else ever attempted to consolidate and correlate such a massive effort. IIS also enlisted several Farhkans to analyze the preliminary results. That added years to the project, but resulted in more useful insights. So, in the case of Aergis Industries, the case at hand, we looked at the products they were pushing, who they thought was buying them, who really bought them, then redesigned the approach.” Desoll laughed. “We also lied.”
“Lied?”
“We told everyone what they wanted to hear—that we were using the same techniques others had used for years and that we were managing the business better. The form of what we were doing was similar, and what we did worked. So no one really looked that much further.”
To Van, it was still theoretical.
“All right. Take groundcars. In non-Coalition cultures, they’re theoretically a transportation device. But, in point of fact, depending on the culture, they can either be a functional necessity, a display of male power, a display of sexual independence, a status symbol, or about a dozen other factors. To sell groundcars, you have to know what the product will do in that culture, what role the product plays, and why a particular type or model will or will not fit in the desired niche. Historically, these kinds of sales have been handled most effectively one-on-one, after what one could call mass display of the product, with a range of messages in different media incarnations, had made potential consumers aware of the product, thus allowing the end salesperson to make the final appeal based on his or her intuitive psychology. But…if you know in advance the role of the product, the psychological and practical appeal by ethnic, economic, gender, and social background, you can segment the market much more effectively. Our psychological model has proven very effective in refining that approach…” Desoll called up a table. “Here is the history of initial account promotions…”
Van watched and listened for the next hour as Trystin Desoll dissected thirty years of success with Aergis Industries. His head was aching when the older man powered down the holo display.
“Do you have a better idea now?” asked Desoll.
“I’m getting it,” Van replied cautiously. “I’m still not sure where I fit it. I can understand how all this works, but I certainly couldn’t create a plan like the one you showed me. I could monitor it, and make sure it got implemented…but surely you have others who could do that.”
“What’s the biggest barrier to effective organization of a multi-system organization?”
“Time and distance.”
“And the inability of those running it to understand the individual dynamics involved in how organizations need to adapt to different cultures,” Desoll added. “What I do, and what you’re going to learn to do, is to provide coordination, control, understanding, direction—and glue.”
“Glue?”
“There are two kinds of organizations—those held together by bureaucratic systems and traditions, and those held together by a shared vision. The first are extremely good at surviving, but seldom accomplish much more. The second can change a planet or a corner of the Galaxy, but only so long as the vision remains shared and vital—and that requires people at the top who embody that vision. You have that potential. You’ve been given second-rate crews and ships for years—and yet outperformed those considered first-rate.” Desoll pointed to the sheets of paper on the corner of the desk. “You’ve also got a first-rate mind, and vision—”
“They barely passed that thesis,” Van protested.
“That was their problem. I had it submitted to the University of Cambria, anonymously. I asked for an objective opinion from various thesis committees. Half wanted to fail it. The other half claimed it was brilliant. For the record, I agree with the latter.”
“Why do you need me?” That was really the bottom-line question. “Or were you trying to get a pilot and do a rescue job at the same time?”
Trystin’s face tightened, the first hint of anger Van had seen. “I can’t afford rescues.” His voice was cold.
Van thought he could almost hear, One was enough. “I’m sorry. I just find it hard to believe—”
“Believe it. Ambitious, intelligent, and ethical commanders who can manage are almost impossible to find these days. I’m not doing you any favors. By the time two years have passed, you’ll have earned every credit.” Desoll’s face cleared. “IIS has gotten too big for one director to handle it all, because it requires someone whose ethics have been so deeply instilled that they’re instinctual, not merely easy rules of behavior, and because IIS needs to continue to project an image of power.”
Van still was doubtful.
“And because I don’t have time to do everything that needs to be done, including some work on a new power transmission technology project that’s taking far more effort than I’d ever thought. I can’t do that, which is vital for our future, and the future of the Arm, and still continue to present an image of presence and power. I need you to help with that.”
Why an image of power?
Van must have subvocalized that, he realized, as Desoll nodded.
“That is the question, isn’t it? I’ll give you part of the answer. Actually, I’ve already given you part—that was what we did off Behai.”
“To keep the peace?”
Desoll shook his head. “No. No one can ever keep the peace, not among humans, no matter what the Farhkans believe. To keep the bureaucracies honest, because bureaucracies are only interested in self-perpetuation, and the best of ideals are the first casualty of expediency. Organizations that go beyond survival are both the economic and pragmatic hope for the future. By offering alternatives to the established powers—as we did with Aergis—we make a goodly profit while keeping societies more open and flexible. By doing the occasional dirty job off a Behai, we also help keep greater economic and cultural diversity
