“I SAID WAKE HIM UP! We don’t have all day. This meeting is scheduled for thirty minutes and if I am here for thirty one then I have to spend five minutes of the following meeting explaining to the next guy why I was late. You can’t run a business like this.”
I felt the needle in my thigh and realized I wasn’t dead. I fucked it up again. Priority number one was don’t get caught. Dr. Connors had tried to set me off so whatever happened, I’d fight to the death and I’d fucked that up too. Where was I? In front of me were a bunch of old people in suits sitting around a horseshoe shaped table. I was in the same clothes I had on earlier. How come I keep waking up bound to chairs? My leg was dressed. My bicep was bound to my chest and wrapped in bandages. I had multiple headwounds that were apparently being attended to as well. I felt like a mummy. Where the hell was I? It looked like a parole hearing. A bunch of suits. A pissed off guard. I felt like I’d been here before. I spent a lot of my life getting high, drinking too much, and partying too hard. I was accustomed to waking up in places I wasn’t used to, just not like this.
How do we end up doing the same thing over and over in life?
The man in the center had been speaking to me. Why to me? “Answer me son, your name is John S. Brunsen, correct?”
“What the fuck is happening?” I said. I sputtered it out through a mix of cottonmouth and blinding headache.
“Son, I will thank you to watch your mouth. There is no need for that sort of talk here. How about you confirm for me your name?” he said.
There were really only two places I could be, either strung up before some international tribunal figuring out how to sell my eminent execution to the American people, or the far worse outcome of being in some underground BIMPT bunker awaiting a lifetime of torture. Given my situation, and the fact that I had little to no hope of survival, I gave the only answer I could. “How about… How about…”
Fuck it.
“How about you come suck my dick? You’ll have to come pull it out yourself though. I’m a bit tied up.” I demonstrated that my arms were bound to either myself or my chair. Humor! Sure to lighten any situation. Here I was in a brand new situation and I was already making friends and influencing people, using my natural gift for levity to my advantage.
The old man motioned towards a guard who walked over to me and punched me in the face. Hard.
The old man in the suit was taken aback. “My goodness, what is this? I didn’t mean hit him. He’s hardly conscious as it is. What in the world is wrong with you? Why do you think we gave you a taser?”
“My apologies,” said the guard. He clearly wasn’t apologizing to me as he jammed a taser against my nuts and proceeded to blast me with about 6 million volts right in the sack. I was immediately concerned I would never get another erection. That was hardly a way to live.
“Son. Listen to me. I don’t want this to continue this way. These good people don’t either. We didn’t call this meeting to sit around and watch you wallow and suffer.” The old man shuffled some papers on his desk and pulled one to the front. “We have spent a great deal of time and money, and a considerable number of important man-hours trying to arrange this meeting. Frankly, if you hadn’t killed Dr. Fitzsimmons before he got a chance to explain things to you, this all would’ve been done weeks ago. It seems you have developed a bit of a temper though. After your little rocket launcher attack, by my best count you’ve cost us around 42 soldiers and several million dollars.”
“Fuck you. Your best men couldn’t kill me. I’ll get out of here too.” I tried to sound like Rambo, but remembering Rambo rarely got caught, I realized I probably sounded more like Maxwell Smart. It didn’t exactly work either. The men and women on the dais in front of me all laughed heartily. “No, that isn’t the case. Were we to want you dead you would’ve been dead before you left that first building. No, we needed you alive which made things much more difficult. Honestly, we should’ve just gassed you at the start of things, but I figured you’d end up inside the panic room for days if not years and then media comes and it gets really messy. Did you know you are terrorist? It’s true. You are probably the most hated man in America. Maybe the most hated man ever? First that little stunt at the park and now you firebombed an entire building trying to get back at your girlfriend Dr. Cooper. She was abetting you it turns out. Poor Megan, always so smart, but never that reliable. We wanted to help. We did. We got the police to send a helicopter to talk with you and you shot it down with a rocket launcher? Do you know how many people died in the ensuring calamity? Tsk tsk. You even killed your girlfriend, traitor though she may be. Her body was found inside the apartment complex. Bullet ridden. Sick if you ask me. It’s okay though. We can help you. And you can help us. You are going to be of great service to us in fact.”
It figured. I don’t know how they were going to cover up helicopters getting shot down, but I’d definitely end up taking the blame for that one too. It was like adding prison years to someone serving 50 life sentences though. I couldn’t get any lower as is. All this to say, I still just had the one response. “Fuck you.”
“Guard, can you just gag him please? I need him to stop cursing long enough to understand why we haven’t just chucked him out the nearest door and let the local police lock up him for the next 500 years.”
A guard walked over and shoved his glove in my mouth and then pulled it tight behind my head. It was disgusting but effective.
“For Christ’s sake, he’ll end up swallowing it and killing himself. Mr. Brunsen, can you please, please, just be quiet for a few minutes to consider our presentation?”
I nodded. It wasn’t acquiescence so much as the glove was revolting and I was going to throw up in my mouth. The guard removed the glove and I held my tongue. It was purposeful. My only real goal at the time was to kill every motherfucker in this room. It could’ve been the Samskara talking, but honestly, at this point, I think I would’ve felt that way regardless.
"John, BIMPT is a young company. We’ve remained privately held instead of publicly held because the goal of the company has always been something that was… incompatible with the image required of publicly held corporations. Sure, we have the pharmaceutical division and the paper goods and a few other things, but all that stuff is basically just cover to provide research funding. We were excited when we first found what is commonly referred to as Grey Plague, but as you know now is not a plague at all but rather a diverse set of biologically active semi-sentient replicating autonomous units with neurochemical properties. There was a group of us, many of us, who had waited for exactly this sort of opportunity. CEOs, CFOs, retired 5-star generals, politicians all sorts of folks who just wanted to see the world succeed. We all had the same thought, the same unifying idea. That this would be a unique moment in human history. A unique opportunity to begin righting the wrongs that have occurred recently and setting many on a new path. Capitalism has given humanity its present, but progress has been encumbered by unnecessary burdens. Government. Regulation. Strikes. Incompetence. Malfeasance.” The man paused before continuing again. “We… we have a presentation for you, something for you to think about prior to an offer. The best offer you could hope to receive in my opinion. I want you to listen hard to our presentation, and then we can talk. I am going to defer to my colleague Dr. Spatek now for the next portion of our presentation.”
The dais began a quiet and modest round of applause for their colleague.
A new Suit started speaking. He spoke with all the faux confidence of a Tony Robbins seminar graduate selling life advice to the weary and worn. “Hey John, great to meet you. Roger Spatek here, Head of Samskara Research and Application. Just wanted to sort of dial you into some of our thinking in the area.” He overemphasized the word dialed and did a little airplane hand gesture while he said it. “When we think about the Samskara and what they mean, one of the questions that popped into my brain was simply ‘Why? Why does it exist’ Well let me tell you why John, the best hypothesis that we’ve come up with thus far is that the Samskara is a biologically active reprogramming unit designed to guide thought. This is a fairly difficult concept I am sure, but it seems like it mostly affects higher thinking individuals with sufficient neural complexity, and then it rewrites their neural chemistry to return to them a more basal state. A simpler way of thinking of it, is that it took the old version of you, and converted that version into a mindless sadistic caveman whose only enjoyment appears to be rampant murder. Now in-ter-es-ting-ly…” He over emphasized each syllable and chuckled as he did so. “In-ter-es-ting-ly, the Samskara are likely an incredibly ancient phenomenon. We can find traces of the compound in soils that haven’t been disturbed for eons. How they work, who made them and why? All that stuff we only speculate on. What we believe is that in order for humanity to develop as long as it has an ELE, or extinction level event, occurred that more or less wiped out the entire planet. Probably some comet loaded with Samskara crashed into Earth and then spread the Samskara throughout the environment in chunks. The colonies that survived were actually those colonies where most of the population perished upon instant contact with Samskara. That left the people you see before you today, minus yourself. You see, John, it’s a lot easier to learn ‘no touching the writhing black mass of death’ than it is to stop rampant psychotic murderers running around everywhere pillaging and murdering the populace wantonly and without remorse. Maybe you can attest.” The suit winked at me as he said it. “Over time the selective pressure of the Samskara subsided. Modern man has retained the robust epithelial apoptotic event that was present in ancient man that actually protected them from Samskara reprogramming, by of course, melting their flesh off. Most of us have circumvented the effects of Samskara reprogramming by just having anyone affected by it end up dead. Those folks don’t reproduce and they can’t ruin society for the rest of us. Now, of course, all DNA mutates over time and new genotypes beget new phenotypes, or in your case, beget a return to a phenotype once thought gone. Drawing that out took some work on our side. Exposing people. Finding those who had changed. That’s how we found you, and it appears like you are just one of those mutants. You have the same DNA as our pre-ELE ancestors. Isn’t that cool? You’re like a pre-Neanderthal.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
He was genuinely happy for me… or maybe about me? It was a mix of endearing and revolting.
“John, when we here at BIMPT first discovered the Samskara we were excited. Elated. The company had a different name at that time, or really wasn’t even a company, but rather a like-minded group of professionals who just wanted to see the world become a better place. A newer, safer, more productive future for mankind. One that eschewed some of our baser instincts of the past and prepared us for the future. For that portion of our little talk, let me present Sean Ling, our head of Monetization.”
Lots of clapping again.
“Hey John, Sean Ling, really great to meet you. Here at Monetization, our major goal is always maximizing our profit. The original ideas that were thrown around for Samskara monetization were all focused on current issues. Selling the product itself, selling a cure, there were so many avenues we could take. It was a really exciting time here at BIMPT. What got me here, what got me the seat you see me sitting in today…” There was a chuckle from amongst the dais. “I know, I know…thank you. But John seriously what got me here today is the idea ‘what if we didn’t sell it at all’. After all, what is money if not power? The same mistake has been made over and over in history. A great Capitalist invents a product and then sells it to the highest bidder. If we are selling oranges, this is perfectly fine. Where it all falls apart though, is when we start selling death. If we have the biggest and best guns, why give them away at all? It’s one of the biggest mistakes in modern history and it goes untaught throughout the world. The Samskara go way beyond this though. Do you realize what would happen if this stuff got into the water supply? What if terrorists got ahold of it? This was simply too valuable of a weapon to risk losing. So, we did a little course correction. We weren’t going to use the Samskara for money. We would use them for power. Now let me turn over the next section to Kathy Spears, V.P. of Global Dominance.”
What had Dr. Cooper said? ‘They were much better at figuring out how to make a profit from it.’ More clapping now.
“Hey John, Kathy Spears from GD, nice to meet you. When BIMPT first came together we were a group of alike minds with the same goal – promote BIMPT’s core values globally. A lot of companies have the same goals, the same Mission Statements, but we here at BIMPT think differently. Our motto here is simple – ‘Capitalism Works.’ Our goal is to spread that philosophy, but it’s been hard. Things keep getting in the way. Capitalism works because people need things, but other institutions keep filling that need free of charge. Free is the death knell of Capitalism. If things are free, what do they need us for? Now… let me pose another question to you. We’ve used representative democracy as the primary form of government across the developed world for years now, but why? Why do people think they need representation? What is gained by giving so much control to those that are so uninformed and disengaged? They just end up abusing it, and we end up having to steal it back from them anyway! Ultimately, we decided that for humanity to advance the only real hope was a radical realignment of values. So that’s what BIMPT did. We brought together people from across the fields of science, engineering, marketing, product design, all of the critical aspects of a good business and thought ‘How can we supplant democracy and replace it with pure Capitalism?’ Think about it John – a place for everyone and everyone has a place. 100% employment. Buying and selling anything, literally anything on the planet. A truly free and open market without the imposition of morale posturing.” She said the last two words with obvious derision, as if this problem had been haunting her for her entire life. “For too long now, the business community has been hamstrung by the government’s insistence on what is ‘fair.’ In a true market economy, there is no fair, there is only price. You get what you pay for and anyone and everyone can make their own markets.”
She stopped to have a drink of water.
“When the Samskaras were discovered, we had our out though. A way back to the old times, the pure times, the good times. Back when American was truly great, when bold and brave men ran the country without opposition from their inferiors in government. America ran on steam and oil. We built train tracks and roads. Everyone worked, from children to the elderly. There was no social security, there were no child labor laws. You earned your way the entire time! Then, the government stole that power. They usurped our rightful place. We, the Capitalists were forced to bend the knee. Why? Lack of force! Lack of ability to impose our will. So, when we all realized that the Samskaras were a new means to power, a new force that could counteract the lack of military power we realized it was time for a return. A return to the Capitalist principles that made this country what it is. A chance to expand upon those principles. We hired the best scientists, including your friend Ms. Cooper, and we began doing what we do best. Figuring out how to make a profit from it. Not a monetary profit though, but rather a profit of ideas. A profit of power. A profit of control. Why sell the product to the Department of Defense just so they can hold it in barrels beneath Area 51 for 50 years? Why make a drug for something that no one ever gets sick with? I could answer that question for you. But instead, I am going to turn it over to Jenny Babin, our Head of Opportunity Generation.”
Again, with the clapping when Jenny was announced.
“Hey John, here at Opportunity Generation we understand that the major motivating factor in most economic decisions is need. At BIMPT, we aren’t satisfied to wait until customers have a need, we generate needs for them. We help our customers identify what their needs are and then show them how our products can solve those needs. For instance, the synergy we’ve been able to generate by combining our Animal Rendering, Super Bowl Themed Snack Foods, and Type II Diabetes groups into a single division has been revolutionary to the industry. It’s a feed forward loop that pays additional dividends at nearly every step in this process. Truly remarkable.” Jenny’s colleagues gave knowing and approving nods in her direction.
“Thank you all. But John, where was the opportunity with Samskaras? We had to generate some opportunity, a chance to show the populace that they had a need for the products. My…predecessor…” She snarled the world. Clearly some animosity there. “My predecessor jumped the gun by a few decades and set us back. When we decided to collaborate with that tiny little island that will remain nameless, the goal was to offer them a chance to compete at an international level with a guiding hand. We would become a new island nation, beholden to none. We would remake the island in the image of Capitalism, a Randian vision of excellence in the South Pacific.” She sighed and then took a drink of water. “What we, my predecessor at least, failed to realize is that people can be difficult to control. When our partner in the government there foolishly attacked Kansas City, we were forced to break ties. Some of our higher ups with ties into government lobbying in fact pursued a more deterministic military solution as to avoid any unseemly findings on the global stage.” The panel was still nodding in agreement.
“So, when I took over Opportunity Generation, I was tasked with coming up with novel and sustainable uses for the Samskara substance. We can’t just dose everyone and sell the antidote, they’d all be rotting corpses. If we sell the antidote first, then what are we protecting against? We’d have to have thirty or fifty Kansas City disasters around the globe. Then we’d basically just be terrorists, and we’re not terrorists John, we’re Capitalists. Plus, that level of depletion of the work force would be absolutely devastating to productivity and thus at the end of the day, the option had to be scrapped regardless of its other merits. But John, I had a new idea. A better idea. What if we could hone the power of the Samskara technology. We are months if not weeks away from blocking the epithelial apoptotic response, the ‘Grey Plague’ response as you called it. Turning the populace into a bunch of grunting apes smashing each other’s brains in would make it very difficult to continue to push our other lines of products though. You might be thinking ‘Jenny, this is pointless, how am I ever going to put this product to use! I mean, why be rich if you have to spend all your time and effort just surviving.’ Let me tell you. There are billions of different configurations of Samskara substance out there John. We believe they are capable of alternate forms of brain re-wiring. We are only keenly aware of one instance – the one you are now infected with that has turned you into a mindless drug-addled killer. We have identified other potential Samskaras too though. Ones that need tested. Tested in human subjects. We need people to identify them, isolate them and purify them. John, we believe the Samskaras can be used not just to kill, but to control. Thank you. Back to you Sir.” She smiled and waved after her spiel.
The Head Suit grunted and spoke again. “In closing John, what we actually want, is for you to come work for us. Any comments? Any questions?”
I sighed.
"I liked the part where you guys did the round robin to reveal your evil plan, but honestly there was too much clapping for me. I give it a D+. Go fuck yourselves. Now either put a bullet in my head or throw me out the front door and let someone else do it.”