Transmat World: Chapter 36, Episode 1
Audit chamber of the Board of Agreement, 8:35 A.M., Monday, December 20, 2145 A.D.
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“Vince Miller, you’ve delayed, put off, and made excuses for not submitting to an audit for weeks on end; and, yet, here you are requesting this procedure be reset to another date,” said Adjunct Acting Vice President Over Ancillary Budgetary Discrepancies Albert Anthony Millsap.
“Bert, I assure — ”
“Vice President Millsap, if you don’t mind, Mr. Miller.”
“Vice President Millsap, I assure you these have been necessary and not connected to any malfeasance on the part of Transmat, Inc. As you know, we are currently in the middle of a recall in which the safety of the public is paramount, and the continued fragile expansion of economic growth is in jeopardy. This situation is requiring every minute of my waking time to oversee. I respectfully request a postponement of this proceeding for a period of one month. This would take us past the holidays and this adjustment period for Transmat.”
Bert was bigger now than when he was in high school, much taller as well as more girth. Vince gave him credit. At least now he bought clothes that draped his mass with a measure of fashion; an accomplishment and surely expensive. Bert was a king at court with his Board lawyers on one side and his Board accountants on the other. Except for Ookie on his shoulder, Vince sat alone on the other side of the 30-foot long, polished oak table. His cadre of help was invisible; all connected through Vince’s hedset.
“No, I will not grant another extension,” lorded Bert. “You’ve had plenty of time to get ready for an audit, even enough time to cook the books, but let me tell you, Mr. Miller; these people know what to look for. They can smell financial shenanigans through a Transmat portal.”
“If that’s the case, Vice President Millsap, I suggest you let me get back to business, and your cohorts can go to a Transmat and inhale,” said Vince.
Chuckles stopped short as Bert’s glare singed down the line of auditors, and he pointed at one. A loaded pistol couldn’t have been more effective. The young CPA shuffled some papers, cleared his throat, and began speaking.
“Uh … Mr. Miller, I’m Assistant Field Auditor Bracken, and I have a few questions about what appears to be an enormous jump in research and development funds from the years 2143 to the present without adequate description of — ”
The mahogany double doors to the audit chamber flew open with a click, whoosh, and thump as automatic catchments grabbed and held them. One door barely cleared a pilfered table of breakfast pastries. Wundee in his Frederick Beasener persona and his assistant, Yootoo, as Edward Grumbacher, strode through the door. Behind them was an individual Vince did not know. Behind that individual were several Western Central Enforcement agents and last, but never least, the Chairman of the Board of Agreement, Neal Pratney. Everyone jumped to his and her feet. Not a man, woman, or child on Earth did not recognize the visage of Neal Pratney, the face and voice of the Board of Agreement; arguably the most powerful man on Earth. Seeing Frederick was good news but the appearance of the Chairman was a shocker. Vince was pretty certain that he was now doomed. Bert looked like the three bear claws, four cherry cheese Danishes, and two chocolate croissants had not set well with the four cups of coffee and the carton of chocolate milk consumed since arriving.
If he spews, it could be life threatening to those around him, texted Julie.
Certainly life degrading. Don’t make me laugh, subvocalized Vince.
“Please, everyone sit down. I will turn these proceedings over to my co-worker and good friend, Frederick Beasener,” said Chairman Pratney as he took a seat. Everyone else sat down except for Frederick and the WCE agents who stood against the wall with their hands clasped in front of them with an alertly bored look; the one that says, “See how blasé and inattentive I am — NOW TRY SOMETHING!”.
“I do have some information that may affect the course of this investigation. Mr. Stanford, would you mind standing?” Wundee said this while looking at the man Vince did not know.
“What is your full name?” inquired Frederick.
“Basil R. Stanford.”
“Basil, you do understand everything that takes place in this room is recorded, correct?” asked Frederick.
“Yes sir, I do.”
“When you were in college, did you write a senior thesis for money for someone in this room?”
“Yes sir, I did.”
“Normally a thesis is part of the honors program at this particular institute for a student to graduate with honors status. In this case, there was a special deal struck with the chancellor that the successful writing of such a thesis would result in a certain student being able to graduate at all. Were you aware of this deal at the time?”
“No sir, I was not.”
“Can you point out and name the person you wrote that thesis for?”
“Yes sir, I can.”
“Would you do that for us at this time?”
“Yes sir, it was that person right there — Bert Millsap.”
The room erupted, everyone standing. Bert towered over all and his voice overrode every other auditory attempt for attention.
“Mr. Chairman, these are lies!” Bert said. “I’ve never seen this man. These charges are trumped up. This man was paid to say these things by this man here — Vince Miller. He probably came up with the idea because he did the same sleazy thing in high school. He wrote papers for anybody and everybody for money.”
“And how would you know this, Mr. Millsap?” asked Frederick.
A two-second pause preceded a vehement “Rumors!”
“You are correct, Albert, none of this can be proven,” stated Chairman Pratney. From his tone and inflection, he could have been talking about the weather. “It is, basically, your word against his. Although a cloud copy with editing marks is accessible with Mr. Stanford’s password, that is only circumstantial evidence.”
“Thank you, Mr. Chairman,” said Bert, a less feral, more insidious look infecting his countenance.
“You should realize, however, the Board is very circumspect about whom it hires, and I was hoping to hear an offer of resignation at this point. Continue, Mr. Beasener.”
“My assistant, Edward Grumbacher, has something else to show the assembled,” said Frederick.
Edward rose and revealed a palm-sized holographic projector, which he activated. A 3D hologram filled the space above the middle of the massive table, and all eyes were on it. It was a former human resources employee for the Board of Agreement, sitting in an interrogation room, spilling his guts in a bout of emotional catharsis. Tears streamed down his face.
“…couldn’t pass it up. It was too much money. The discrepancies on Mr. Millsap’s resume weren’t obvious, but there were so many and I just looked the other way. Mr. Chairman, I know I’ve let you down. Please forgive — ”
The image flickered off. Bert sat with his head bowed, finally silent.
“Adjunct Acting Vice President Over Ancillary Budgetary Discrepancies Albert Anthony Millsap, you are relieved of your duties and are remanded to the custody of Western Central Enforcement,” said Chairman Pratney and then in an aside, “Officers.”
The agents moved to Bert’s side, told him his rights and handcuffed him, flipping the switch that projected a 3D “IN CUSTODY” hologram above his head.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the Chairman, and they turn it back off as they lead him out; Bert gaves one last glare to Vince as he walked out of the audit chamber.
Merry Christmas, butthead, thought Vince.
The Board lawyers and auditors sat in stunned silence. Their immediate boss has just been canned and incarcerated, and some were worried about guilt by association.
“I declare these audit proceedings over due to accusations made under fraudulent circumstances. According to the Statutes of Practice for the Board of Agreement, Transmat, Inc. will be exempt from audit for a period of three years,” said Chairman Pratney. “Everyone is free to go.”
No one understood why Vince Miller winced at this declaration, but they could not hear the chorus of loud cheers that came through Vince’s hedset. Vince cornered Frederick/Wundee in the hallway.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had this cooked up?” said Vince. “We could have canceled the audit. I would rather have been drug around New York City by my tongue than to come here.”
“I doubt the veracity of your statement. That sounds extremely painful, Vince Miller. It simply vibrated my emotive circuits in a pleasing manner to make it a surprise.”
“As long as your emotive circuits are happy. How did you know to look for this stuff on Bert?” asked Vince.
“I’ve been watching humans for more than 3,000 years now. Don’t you think I know a few things about them by now? Besides, as Maynard P. Kornbluth, God bless his soul, I was the one that came up with the idea of establishing a Board of Agreement. I have a few contacts.”
“Your use of contractions has improved as well since California. See Lurchin’ has returned from Harbinger. Nobody can solve the problem with the entanglement frequency. Not your freemechs or my scientists.”
“I’m sorry to hear this. Perhaps it is time to fill See Lurchin’ with as many large Class 1 booths as possible, transport them to Harbinger, and send a stream of people to safety there.”
“There are only two days left,” said Vince. “It is too late. Even if we could convince people of the danger, it would cause mass panic and many people would die.”
“But as it is, if the inter-universal agent is correct, everyone will die.”
“You and your machine logic,” said Vince.
“One other thing you should know,” said Wundee.
“What’s that?”
“Bert Millsap is a short-timer with a wife and kid,” said Wundee and walked away down the hall to his waiting assistant, Edward Grumbacher.
Crap, thought Vince. One out of a thousand people are allergic to Trypanasoma cruzi, the organism that makes it possible for humans to live hundreds of years instead of dozens. Bert was one of them. Of course, that was no excuse for Bert’s behavior, but Vince felt sorry for him anyway. He made a note to make sure Bert’s wife and kid weren’t going through too much hardship while Bert was locked up. Bad enough they had to put up with Bert. Then again, Vince really had kept information about the Transmat X drive from the Board of Agreement.
Jesus. I’ll talk to Neal Pratney and see if I can’t get it reduced to probation. If he won’t listen to me I’ll ask Wundee to intervene. Merry Christmas, Bert Millsap … butthead.
Chapter 36, episode 2
