devot.ee — Hearings
Professor Deakin Jones hurried through the sidewalk and into the cafe. The small bell on the door jingled, and he felt irritation spike up.
The man stuck out from the crowd, a shape in black and white in a room of vivid color. Deakin hurried towards the table.
The man looked up from his tablet and stood up.
“Ah, Professor! I am …”
“Yes, yes. You’re the PR or media guy or whatever.” Deakin interjected. “Let’s do this fast. I have places to be.”
“Of course, of course.” The man’s lips pursed into a thin smile. He was unremarkable, with close-cropped hair, a charcoal suit that was impeccably ironed and almost no distinguishing features whatsoever from the average corporate crony.
“Let’s talk about why we’re here,” the man continued, “tomorrow’s hearing. But please, have a seat and we can order coffee.”
“Fine.” Deakin sat down at the proffered chair. He had promised his wife he would at least meet with someone from the company. Devotee. Hear their side of the story, she said.
“So, what’s it going to be? Are you going to try to bribe me, or threaten me?” he smirked, “If I was your advisor, I would have told you to lure me into your offices and offer me a poisoned drink, but clearly you need to fire your advisors.”
The man raised both his hands. “Oh no, professor. We’re not doing anything of that sort. We wouldn’t dream of any of that. Anyhow, we don’t think we’re in the wrong, our company.”
“You think messing with the psychological lives of hundreds of millions of people is not wrong?”
“We have a different definition for that, I’d say.”
“So why are we here then?”
Deakin started to get up. The man waved for him to sit down, as the waiter brought them two black coffees.
“I ordered for you, if you don’t mind. Black with three sugars, right?”
Deakin glared at the man. He would remember to hammer on the issue of privacy at tomorrow’s hearings as well.
“Well, if you’d listen to me for a moment,” the man said, “we at devotee are always welcoming critical viewpoints on what we do, outside and inside our organization. That’s why our senior management, and you have some fans there believe me, wanted to reach out to you to see if you’d be a good fit.”
“You see,” the man took a sip of his coffee and continued, “I am the senior vice president of human resources.”
“Wait, wait. So you’re offering me a job instead?”
“Oh, no. That would be the same as bribery, professor. We’re offering you a job interview. And whatever the result of tomorrow’s hearings, the top dogs who manage our strategy want to hear from you.” The man looked pleased at his little pun.
Deakin slumped back into his seat and took a sip.
“So your folks are not worried about tomorrow, is it?”
“Oh, professor. You know, I respect people like you. The righteous, the informed,” the man said, “but you fail to see one thing. Nowadays, the people really fucking hate righteous and smart people telling them what to do.”
“But the representatives, they can, they will…”
“Right. Well, we have practically infinite resources, you have to understand. But we won’t need any of that. I could show you the data, but I think you are already aware that you are the vocal minority. Most of your intellectual colleagues, for instance, are too busy using our product to speak against it.”
Deakin took another heavy sip.
“Fine. But you see, I am a stubborn old Kantian. I will defend my position tomorrow, and I will destroy you anyway I can.” He stood up.
“Well, see you on the battlefield tomorrow, sir.” The man extended a hand.
Deakin glared at him, and with a final sip of his coffee, stormed out of the cafe.
Five or so blocks down the road, a strange tingling started to wash over him.
Ten blocks down it became a feeling.
Twenty blocks down it manifested into an experience.
Deakin thought about calling an ambulance. He looked at his fitness watch, which read a hundred beats per minute. That was not exactly extreme, right? But he felt as though his heart was thundering in his chest, like some ancient gong attacked by a strong woodpecker.
He entered his hotel and took the elevator. His room was on the seventh floor, but once the elevator started moving, it was as if he was in freefall, like it was going down. That was not possible, was it?
After what felt like a lifetime of uncertainty and vague dread, the machine dinged and the doors opened. In a blur he entered his room, locked it, laid down on the carpet and squeezed his eyes shut.
After the adrenaline had run out, he became aware of a gentle but firm force. It was like gravity had twisted slightly. He opened his eyes and nothing was out of the ordinary. Still he felt as if a large presence right above him. It was as if a invisible moon was right above him, waiting to drop and crush him into the ground.
He kneeled. And prayed.
The next day, at the congressional hearing, the professor coming in as an expert of Anthropology and Comparative Mythology did not show up, and caused a rise in general impatience levels. A general consensus of allowing the company devotee to proceed with its more experimental products was formed. Some notable critics were notably absent.
This is a part of a larger ongoing story. Feel free to suggest in which direction it should go.
Part 1 is here.
