He didn’t look powerless.
He was making his way to the small platform now. As the chatter dipped and faded to a respectful hush, all eyes rested on the Facilitator General’s flat, smooth face.
– Well, he began, smiling. A big wide smile, and at the same time he stretched out his arms as though to embrace them all. The customers have spoken. Euripides said – he signalled quotation marks – that mobs in their emotions are much like children, subject to the same tantrums and fits of fury. He might have added that when they’re pleased they’ll shout it from the rooftops.
A small cheer and a bubble of murmurs.
– We at the Liberty Corporation are honoured to have been chosen to service this island for a second ten-year term. None of us is surprised by today’s result.
He gave another wide smile. The room seemed to froth with the chemistry of it.
– But it’s gratifying nonetheless. He paused.
Hannah wondered whether he was about to get lyrical. He was capable of it. Sceptred isles, enchanted paradises and whatnot. Might he choose this moment to voice the word that hung at the back of Atlanticans’ thoughts, more and more? Or was it too early, even after ten years, to talk about Utopia? No; instead, he was praising ‘the organic hermetics’ of the Liberty principle. What other service had gone so far in pleasing all of the people, all of the time? You only had to look at history. The system was nothing more than a blueprint for freedom. Freedom within freedom. Freedom to and freedom from. Freedom that nourishes itself.
– We take pride in our customer-care programme, he continued. Those of you who work in Munchhausen’s will know just how valuable our customer feedback is. The customers like to see those figures published.
He smiled.
Yes; they liked to see those simple graphs. Up for good, down for bad. She’d heard it all before – about how it made the customers feel safe, to know that what they said counted. About how feedback helped keep Marginals off the streets, put hard-core losers offshore, didn’t threaten the fragile physics of the eco-climate. Et cetera et cetera.
– People need a system they can trust. A system that doesn’t let them down, Pike was saying. With Libertycare, what you see is what you get. Which is why other nations – he paused, looked meaningfully around the room – are now beginning to take an active interest in adopting the software.
More cheering. People were getting quite drunk, Hannah noticed. There was a feeling of well-being, relief, joy even. Life at Head Office had its moments.
Wesley Pike was grinning now, the pleasure radiating out, blessing them all with its warm glow.
– So this is an important victory for what may one day become – why not? – a new world order. And I’m sure if the Boss herself could join us in a drink – a smile quirked at the corner of his mouth – she would.
There was laughter. Yes; people were genuinely happy, thought Hannah, relaxing slightly. We’ve worked hard for this.
– So I’m going to propose a toast to Libertycare, he finished, raising his glass. And the principle of the greatest happiness of the greatest number.
A cheer went up, and Hannah caught sight of Fleur Tilley, sozzled, lifting her glass. Soon the room was awash with babble.
– Listen, Hannah, said Leo. He was easing her towards an area of the room where the crowd was thinner. Still darting his eyes about, as though looking for someone.
– There’s something I found out.
Hannah wondered what was different about his eyes. They seemed to sit at a tilted angle in his face. Uneasily, she felt for the strip of bubble-wrap in her pocket, and popped two blisters.
– What?
– It’s a… gossip thing.
A gossip thing? Leo didn’t gossip.
– What d’you mean? What’s up?
– I was on the top floor earlier, with the Boss, and –
But suddenly he was gone.
When she turned round she saw why: Wesley Pike was heading towards her, smiling and purposeful. He moved like a car. A big smile; next thing, he’d parked and his hand was on her shoulder, thrilling and frightening.
– The Boss is pleased with you, Hannah, he said. Your Profile’s up.
Hannah felt her face redden and she reached for her bubble-wrap. More than anything else, she wanted to pop another blister. His hand on her shoulder felt like a heavy sexual moth.
– Go ahead, he said. If it makes you more comfortable.
He noticed everything.
– It’s a bad habit, she muttered, shoving it back in her pocket.
– There are worse ways to deal with tension, he said.
She followed his eyes. Fleur Tilley was already well past the tottering stage.
– At least we won’t have to send you to rehab, said Pike.
He had made a joke, Hannah realised. She tried to make a noise like laughter. Then gulped at her tonic water.
– Anyway, I have good news for you, he said.
His eyes were grey, clear like glass. She wondered how he could see through them. She felt the sweat prick her armpits. He smiled, his glance whizzing expertly across the room, then returning to her and resting – surely just for a brief, flickering moment, actually resting on her breasts? She felt a burning sensation, low down.
– The Boss has decided to move you.
Her heart caught, and she moved her weight from one foot to the other.
– Reward success, questionnaire failure, he said, smiling at the quotation. She was being praised as well as flattered, she realised suddenly. She stared at his chest and pictured running her hands all over it, like a blind person feeling a wall.
– There are going to be some changes. Now that the Festival’s behind us.
– Changes? She immediately felt stupid, echoing him like that. But what did he mean? What was she supposed to say?
– You’ll be part of a new venture. A short-term project. It’s beyond your normal remit, but the Boss reckons you can cope. He smiled. Big, broad. – So how d’you feel about doing some people-work?
What?
She felt panic rise within her like vomit. She clutched her bubble-wrap fiercely, feeling the air-pockets strain with the pressure. She felt trapped, conned. No, she thought. Not that. Reward success, you said.
– I don’t have the experience. I can’t –
– At Liberty, there’s no such word. He smiled, his eyes floating over her.
– But my Block –
– It’s nothing threatening. You’ll find it interesting. What do you know about Multiple Personality Disorder?
Not much, thought Hannah, trying to focus. Almost nothing.
– It’s quite rare, she said, searching her brain for stray knowledge. I mean, hardly anyone gets it. It’s a – she fumbled for the words – a rare delusional thing. That’s all I know.
– Well, you’ll be discovering a lot more. He paused. – It’ll stretch you, socially.
Hannah felt herself not stretching, but shrinking. She supposed that she felt flattered, deep down, below the inappropriate sex thoughts and the panic. Reward success. So why did it feel like a punishment? She looked into her glass. At the bottom was a lonely sliver of lemon.
Multiple Personality Disorder. That was when a person thought they were lots of other people. Ran several identities in their head at once. She couldn’t remember the statistics, but it was an unusual condition. You had to be pretty disturbed. There was a proxy version too, where you imagined the people were semi-independent of you. Orphans were prone to it.