The ethos effect, p.29
The Ethos Effect, page 29
Desoll pointed northwest along a tree-lined boulevard, to a ridge rising out of trees a good half klick away. “There’s the office.” He began to walk toward the ridge. “To build it we also had to build the park. The park is about thirty hectares.”
Van couldn’t believe that The “ridge” was a structure that angled up from the parklike setting to the west until it loomed over the forest below. But the ridgelike office structure looked to be six or seven floors, and no more than a hundred fifty meters by forty, and for that IIS had been required to create a park that was a hundred times the footprint of the building?
“Of course, it makes a pleasant setting, and everyone who works there enjoys it. So do all the neighbors,” Desoll added dryly. “Getting the architecture and the terrain to blend was a challenge, but the designers worked it out I’m told.”
“How old is it?”
“About eighty years old.”
That explained the maturity of the trees and the serenity of the setting as the three walked down the tree-lined promenade from the station to the IIS structure. When he neared the building, Van could see that the irregular exterior was a greenish bronze composite that looked neither metallic nor stone, but somewhere in between, almost like someone had polished an irregular ridge jutting from the ground, then left it There were no visible windows, and only a simple archway, leading to a closed portal.
Desoll pulsed the portal open. The foyer beyond was modest but well lighted, and empty.
On the rear wall of the foyer were lifts. To the right were ramps.
“Eri... you can go on up. We’ll go to the offices first” Another smile crossed Desoll’s face, and he looked to Van. “You have one.” He stepped into the lift and the others followed.
The two men stepped out on the fifth floor, into a wide corridor, leaving Eri to continue up. Desoll turned to his left and walked quickly westward.
Natural light flooded in from clerestory windows set in nooks between offices, although the windows had not been visible from outside. The doors to the offices the two passed were generally open. Each office seemed to be the same size, five meters by five, with a window wall overlooking the park. Several of those working looked up from their consoles as the two passed, but most did not A few smiled politely.
A stocky black-haired man stood waiting near the end of the corridor, inclining his head slightly. “Director Desoll, Director Albert.”
“Van, this is Joseph Sasaki. Joe is the Cambrian director of IIS, the one who really runs the operation. Generally, I do what he recommends.”
Sasaki laughed gently. “Except for the twenty percent of the time when I’m wrong.”
Beyond Sasaki, Van could see three open doors—old-fashioned wooden doors, like all those they had passed. The center door showed a conference room with a long table, flanked with wooden chairs, without upholstery. The doors to the left and right opened onto corner offices that looked to be six or seven meters square—about two-thirds the size of the conference room. Each corner office had slanted wraparound windows, an old-style table desk with two consoles, a single desk chair, three chairs facing the desk, and two low bookcases. The only difference that Van could see in the offices was that the bookcases of the office on the right had antique books in it, while the shelves of the one on the left were empty.
“I’ve noticed already that he doesn’t make many mistakes,” Van observed. Now.
Van caught the subvocalization as if Desoll had dropped it onto an open link and almost said something before he realized that Joe Sasaki hadn’t even noticed.
“No, he doesn’t.” Sasaki gestured to the office on the left, the one with a southwest exposure. “This is yours, Director Albert. You can certainly change the furniture arrangements, and I imagine that over time, you’ll add the touches you want. We just wanted to make sure that it was ready for you when you got here.”
“Thank you.” Van wasn’t sure that he could have said anything else. The more deeply he was getting involved with IIS, the less he understood what Trystin Desoll had in mind. It certainly wasn’t for him to be just a pilot, even the pilot of what amounted to an overpowered light cruiser with an open license on pirates and Revenants.
Chapter 48
Van walked to the wide sitting room window of his penthouse quarters and looked northward across Cambria—a city of greenery, of trees, of spacious parks, and of low buildings. At six floors, the IIS building was not the tallest in or around the city, but there were few above ten stories, with the exception of the single tower just to the west of the shuttle terminal.
A mug of café in his hand, Van slowly walked back and forth, absently taking in the news, looking out but not really seeing the city.
... Technology Party elected Alan Fujimari... Fujimari campaigned on the issue of ethic community ... advocated turning the planet of Mara over to those who cannot accept the founding ideals of Eco-Technology...... Constituent Assembly has approved a measure requiring that all large out-system funds transfers by non-Coalition organizations or individuals be accompanied by verification of identity and be available for public inspection on the planetary net... in reaction to the Revenant funding of the attempted assassination of the Scandyan premier... ... all Revenant missionaries in Coalition... presence provided for under the so-called Treaty of the Prophet... have been recalled by the Revelator of the Revealed...
Was that a threat of sorts by the Revenants? Van didn’t know enough about that culture to be sure. He was just glad that, from what the IIS research staff had been able to tell him, the RSF had backed off on actually landing the domestic peacekeeping team on Sulyn, and that the Taran government had reaffirmed Sulyn’s local rights. The downside to that was that there had been protests in New Oisin about special treatment for Sulyn. One way or another, no one seemed happy.
Van checked the time. It was only seven-fifteen, and he wasn’t supposed to meet Desoll—Trystin—until nine hundred. He really didn’t want to pace around the office, and by the time he’d been briefed on all the codes, met a few key people, then had dinner the night before, and gotten settled in the quarters, Van hadn’t seen much of Cambria.
He nodded, deciding to take a walk before he went to his office. He could stand to stretch his legs and get a feel for things. He washed out the café mug in the sink of the small kitchen, then headed out through the small foyer and to the upper lobby serving the four penthouse quarters.
He saw no one in the lift, nor in the main lobby. Outside, he headed eastward, away from the IIS structure and the park. Less than a hundred yards from the building, he walked past a group of youngsters, wearing school uniforms and headed the other way, shepherded by two teachers, both male, and both a good head shorter than Van.
While none of the students looked at him directly, he could still hear several comments.
“... tall... outlander... Argenti maybe...”
“... least he’s not a Rev...”
Van walked almost a klick, past well-tended houses, set in clusters with garden settings around them, before he began to circle back westward. Before long, he reached the northern edge of the IIS park. There, he sat down on a curved wooden bench in the cool morning sunlight, taking in the peacefulness of the well-landscaped park. Dad Almaviva would have liked it, he decided, with the bushes in proportion and in harmony with the winding stone walks, the low grass, and the low flowers.
A young mother passed, holding the hand of a boy who couldn’t have been more than four.
“... Tajo ... don’t stare ... it’s not polite...”
“... he has funny eyes...”
Funny eyes? Because they weren’t slightly slanted? Van shook his head slightly.
He stood and headed back to the IIS building. Once there, he made his way up to his office, where he looked blankly at the console. He knew there was all too much he didn’t know, but he wasn’t even sure where to begin.
“Hello, there. You must be Van.”
Van turned. The dark-haired and sharp-featured woman who stood in the doorway looked to be close to Van’s age, but Van had always found it hard to guess ages, particularly women’s, because there were so few visual clues. People didn’t lose hair and gain massive wrinkles until close to ends of their lives, and skin tone stayed good.
“I’m Nynca Desoll.”
“The commander of the Salya, and another senior director. Trystin...” Van almost stumbled over the director’s first name, so little had he used it. “He told me a little about you. Very little.”
“Actually, I’m not a senior director. I’m not suited for that. I’m director of long-term planning. What else did he say?”
“He said you were a relation of his. That’s all he said. I hope you can explain.”
“Not very well. It’s complicated,” Nynca said. “Too complicated to explain, but when I want to get him riled a bit, I call him ‘Gramps.’” She laughed. “It gets him every time.”
Van respected her desire for him not to pry. Nynca could have been the daughter of a child Desoll had not known about—or worse—and Van had no desire to get into that sort of inquiry. “He doesn’t look that old.”
“He is older than he looks, but don’t let that fool you.”
“I won’t. I’ve seen him in action.”
“That’s right. He mentioned that you ran into a little trouble off Behai.”
“He handled it with very little fuss or difficulty,” Van said.
“He usually does.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “He has for a long time.”
“What do you do as director of planning?”
She smiled. “Everything, but two things primarily. I look for commercial opportunities, and I design implementation strategies.”
“Nynca!” Desoll stood in the open doorway of Van’s office. “When did you get in?”
“Last night. Late shuttle. I got your message.”
Desoll looked to Van. “Have you been trying to weasel information from Nynca?”
“She’s as open and forthright as you are,” Van replied. “She’s told me no lies, and not deceived me, but I haven’t learned much. You’ve taught her well.”
“I’ve said nothing along those lines to her,” the older man protested.
“By example, then,” Van countered.
Both Desolls smiled before Trystin looked to Van. “I’ve been checking on the new ship. Aerolis affirms that they’ve met the terms, and we’ll take possession a week from tomorrow. You’ll be ready for that after what you’ll be learning in the next week. As much as you can be.” After the briefest of pauses, he added. “I may not be ready. The director of finance for Outsystem Affairs has asked for an informal meeting next threeday.”
“Why?” asked Nynca. “Do you know?”
“Not for certain. Her assistant suggested that it might be wise for me to be prepared to address why our use of multiple financial institutions was not a way of avoiding taxation. I’ve asked Laren and her staff to prepare a short report on that— one that we could put on any pubnet.”
“They won’t believe you,” Nynca said.
“They may not. We don’t pay profits taxes, because we don’t have any, but still have to pay usage and service taxes, and employee support taxes. I asked Laren to put together a chart comparing us to their politically favored charities and multis. That will be in the report as well.”
Nynca smiled. “Blackmail.”
“Just public disclosure ... or the threat of it If they get sticky, we could also publicize which ministers got support from which of them.”
Van just listened.
“But” Desoll said abruptly. “I can’t do much yet not until she gets the information to me. and Van and I have a lot to cover.” He looked to Van.
“You are going to be very busy,” Nynca said to Van before she looked to the older Desoll. “I’ll be in my office when you finish with Van. I have the initial strategy for Aldyst.”
“It won’t be until after lunch,” replied Trystin.
The way Nynca nodded left Van with a vague sense of dread.
“I need to get something from my office,” the managing director said. “I’ll be right back.”
Van walked to the window, looking southeast toward the shuttleport The senior director returned almost immediately, closing the outer door to Van’s office, but leaving the door to the conference room open. Van turned.
“I thought this was interesting.” Desoll handed Van four sheets of paper, clearly reproduced from an older document. “And extremely perceptive.”
Van glanced down at the top sheet and read the tide: Dynamics of Information Handling in a Closed Environment. It was his graduation thesis—or rather the tide page and introductory summary. The original thesis had run something like three hundred standard pages, not including the supporting data and citations. “Where...?”
“It’s part of what IIS does.” Desoll made a sweeping gesture that took in the building around them. “We gather information and find ways to make it uniquely usable to our clients. And profitable.”
“That sounds like what many people have claimed for thousands of years. Obviously, IIS does more than that Why has it been more successful?”
“Because most people truly don’t understand information, what it represents, and what can be done with it. Even those who know what can be done are bound by their own preconceptions. You have to realize that the vast majority of people can only accept and use information that fits their perception of reality. There is a small minority that will see information objectively, but generally cannot find a way to use it profitably. There is a minuscule percentage that can see information objectively and use it, and a somewhat larger group that, if threatened, will accept the assistance of someone who can use information. The last group forms most of our client base.”
“For the sake of discussion,” Van said, “I’ll accept that without question, if you can explain just how you can make information profitable enough to support an Arm-wide multi or foundation with the assets and scope of IIS.”
“Fair enough. How about case studies?” Without waiting for Van’s agreement, Desoll linked to the console and pulsed a set of names and codes. Immediately, the holo projection appeared, displaying the name Aergis Industries, nothing more. “This is an Argenti multi—it is now, but it wasn’t when they first became our client. They designed holo display inserts—pop-ups, side-slides, that sort of thing—for the medianets. They were a glorified artistic job shop, and what they created was based on the market perception of either the companies whose products and services they advertised or of the nets themselves. Those perceptions were generally roughly accurate, but only in a general sense. So... we offered a proposition. Follow our creative lead for a year, and we get half the increase in revenues, plus the right to buy twenty percent of the company, and if they didn’t increase by at least twenty percent, IIS would buy the business at a price that would guarantee a solid profit for the family that owned it.” Desoll shrugged. “They were almost bankrupt. They’re now the dominant creative advertiser in a three-system, four-world market.”
“That says what you did. It doesn’t say how.”
“We started out examining what they were doing, why they were doing it, and identified every single assumption, stated or unstated. Then we checked the assumptions against our databases, and against our psychological model—”
“Psychological model?”
“Yes. That was one of the first aspects of IIS. It started out as a foundation devoted to the study of human behavior.”
“There have been hundreds of—thousands of years’ worth of studies—and no one...” Van shook his head. “What was unique about this model?”
“One unique aspect was that we persuaded the Farhkans to part with some of their data. More than two centuries back, during the Eco-Tech-Revenant War, they’d undertaken a study of human psychology, which they made available to the Coalition in exchange for certain technological refinements.” Desoll smiled. “An outside perspective always adds a dimension that self-study lacks. Then, after restructuring and codifying the Farhkan data, IIS made an effort to collect as many ‘outside’ human studies as possible. For example, a Coalition study of Revenant culture or behavior, and Argenti study of Hyndji attitudes, etc. Then, we did cross-comparisons of the inside studies with the outside studies...”
Van still didn’t see where Desoll was going, but be 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...”
