Har Norma Byukan
Norma rose from her chair and stepped into the heart of her office. She couldn't abide sitting,
not with this break in her control of a Partners' Meeting.
Irwin had Limited attendance. The red-haired tactician and any hidden on-lookers were cut out.
Just the Partners sat in on this virtual meeting now. Only their private rules applied.
She stared down at the Partners' table. The life-sized hologram nestled in her virtual conference
room. She liked this perspective on the can-see. It let her feel on top of things. Still, she
knew that each of the other attendees had a personalized way of looking at it.
She was glad that she had dressed for this occasion. A lace blouse set off a ribbon tie that
complemented her medium-gray, pin-striped business suit of slacks and coat. The wooly cloth
grounded her in zhuhndí, in actuality. Her hair hung over her shoulder in one long, burnt-sugar
braid. Its weight underlined the truth of her dominance. She continued to let her office pass
that image along to the meeting.
Relishing the challenge, Norma reached out and took charge of the Limited Meeting/can-be-seen. She
allowed herself a half-smile of supremacy. "Irwin, I know what I'm doing here. That derelict
tactician should be demoted. Someone who can restore Byukan-Hamil to dominance in that Collective
should take over." She fastened her attention on the first figure on her left. "Dain, that's
you. You'll leave right now. I relieve you of all your other assignments. Report back to me by
will-see every 80-kay seconds."
"Norma, we're not going to do it that way." Irwin's image remained standing. Now it waved a hand
over the others. "Partners ... After an unequivocal experience of the inefficacy of the subsisting
Consortium management, you are called upon to deliberate on a new Pattern of Combine Metrics. The
subject speaks of its own importance; comprehending of the Consortium, the success and survival of
the parts of which it is composed, the fate of an operational empire in many respects the most
interesting in the world. It has been frequently remarked that it seems to have been reserved to
the people of this Continent, by their conduct and example, to decide the important question,
whether Collectives of people are really capable or not of establishing good Society from
reflection and choice, or whether they are forever destined to depend for their Patterns of Life on
accident and force. If there be any truth in the remark, the crisis at which we are arrived may
with propriety be regarded as the era in which that decision is to be made; and a wrong decision of
the part we shall act may, in this view, deserve to be considered as the general misfortune of
Yeibichai."
A prepared speech, Norma thought with amusement. I wonder how many "Uhs" his office is stripping
from the image before it delivers the speech.
Aloud, she said, "I suppose the Ganj-Dareh Collective invited Gatogrebok to bid on this
contract." She swept her gaze over the table. "Can anyone confirm an active conspiracy to bring
alien combines onto our continent?"
No one signaled, so Norma went on. "I don't see any crisis in the way we run this Consortium. I
see neglect of duty by one of our own combines. I don't see a Continent struggling to define 'A
Good Society.' I see Gatogrebok finally locating a weakness and burrowing in. We have failed, not
in our competitiveness, but in our vigilance."
Norma picked a new face to concentrate on. Za Leez Doconrice, Partner for Hubei Region, in the job
for twelve years, competent, resigned to her station, but not entrenched. Loyal to Norma. Good
for an introductory feint. "Za Leez, Ganj Dareh lies within your region. That means this
tactician Heejanus reports to you, does she not?"
The woman's image sat up straighter. "Yes."
"Then you should have noticed when Heejanus' pursuit of metrics started to damage her customer
satisfaction. Our Pattern of Combine Metrics — which has served this consortium well, Irwin,
since my father wrote it — defines how we measure our people and the way they do their jobs. Mna
Joseph intended his pattern to work with the global Pattern of Customer Override — not
contravene it! You should have noticed when Heejanus' rising profits were stealing from her
service levels."
Leez dropped her eyes as though searching her llevar for answers.
Norma was now ready for her chief attacker. She turned to him. "Irwin, the anshin specialty lies
within your Vertical Business Unit, does it not?"
"Yes. For that reason, I—"
"Then you should have monitored any trends in increasing crime, illness, property damage. You
should have—"
The meeting hologram garbled, its pixels clotting into frozen pieces of people and table. Norma
knew immediately what had happened. She glanced at the housekeeping panel over her buffet. There,
a message from her office confirmed that Irwin had terminated the meeting. He hoped the disruption
would scramble Norma's tirade and give him a chance to assert his domination over the discussion.
She expected him to schedule an immediate follow-up. She planned to pick up exactly where she had
left off. And, she predicted failure for his electronic coup. In the meantime, she had her own
surprises to prepare. "Get me Idombruce direct."
In a moment, Nic Idombruce Colditzescaper appeared before her in a meeting/will-be-seen, real-time
images and talk, no morphing allowed. The oldest person on the Team, Idombruce was the only
remnant of her father's regime. She kept the unproductive sycophant around as a placemarker, one
less variable in Partner politics, and for little chores like this one.
"I want you to speak up, Idombruce." Norma took it easy on the old fool, out of respect for her
father.
The man chewed his lips, then mumbled, "Oh, Norma, what can I say that you don't say better?"
"I want you to restate everything that I've already said, exactly as I said it."
"Norma!" He waved his hands. "How can I when I don't remember what you said?"
"I'm sending you a transcript." A gesture to the office made it happen. "When Irwin calls another
meeting in a moment, I want you to read it."
The office made a sound like an oboe clearing its throat. Norma looked around. She saw a request
for a can-see from Irwin. She shouted in that direction, "Immediate Yes!"
She faced Idombruce again. "Can you do that for me, Idombruce?"
The old man pulled a face like a hound dog's. "How can I refuse Josef and Danielle's little girl?"
"Thanks, Idombruce." Norma summoned the performance she knew Idombruce was expecting and gushed,
"You know how much I depend on your support."
"How could I forget?" His image lingered a moment after the words, then flicked away.
The meeting scene resumed its place in her office. First, there was the table with Irwin sitting
at it. He kept his gaze on something not shown in the hologram, probably his llevar. Then, in an
uneven series of updates, the other Partners appeared in their seats. All sat quietly.
Idombruce made them wait an extra couple of seconds before he joined the meeting. Looking much
younger than he had with Norma, he started talking immediately. His speech used Norma's words, but
in his own inflated style. He ended with shrill emphasis on the word "vigilance."
Irwin stood up. This time, that little trick vexed Norma. She wondered what was going on in
zhuhndí, in the man's physical reality, how much his automata covered up when they presented his
image to the can-see. Maybe he posed naked, with lank hair clinging to his pallid, distended
belly? Smirking over that image, Norma decided to give him room to unfold his scheme.
"Among the most formidable of the obstacles," he began, "which the new Pattern will have to
encounter may readily be distinguished the obvious interest of a certain class of people in every
Region to resist all changes which may hazard a diminution of the power, emolument, and consequence
of the offices they hold under the Consortium's establishments."
While Irwin continued his speech, Norma wandered toward the buffet. Irwin was really wound up on
this thing. How long had he been harboring these renegade attitudes? She couldn't remember their
last can-feel. She drew another cup of café. She had been neglectful then. She had allowed a
middle-aged man like Irwin, at the peak of his powers, his last promotion uncounted mega-seconds
behind him, to pursue his own agenda without her guidance, without her pruning, even — it seemed
— without her awareness.
"... It is not, however, my design to dwell upon observations of this nature ..."
Norma coughed slightly as a sigh broke through a sip. The spurt of exasperation passed. It left
knowledge of Irwin's next ploy in her mind. He would move for a vote on her plan to send Dain to
Ganj Dareh. It would be a vote of confidence without seeming to be such. She'd better see how
much work she needed to do.
She lifted her eyes to the housekeeping panel. The office would know she was talking to it and not
the meeting. "Straw vote." A mechanism used frequently by all Partners to compensate for the
isolation of a can-see. "On my last motion." The office would ask each of the other Partners,
outside the purview of the meeting/can-be-seen, whether they were going to support her. "Bypass
Irwin." They had learned not to lie too often in these off-the-record polls — the intricacies of
secret custom were slippery enough.
Irwin continued, "In the course of the preceding observations, I have had an eye, my fellow
Partners, to putting you upon your guard against ..."
In the fifty seconds before results could be expected, she drank the hot café. The delightful
liquid seared its way through her gullet. The moment eased her tensions. It spread a nearly
physical balm over her nerves. Yet, when the office gave its reedy call for attention, her bones
still hung heavy with reluctance. She looked around anyway.
"Aiee!"
Idombruce and Dain supported her, as did Ngo Mayubu, the Partner for the Hunan Region. But Za Leez
voted No. Norma bit her lip as she puzzled on that betrayal for a moment, then moved on. She
noticed Ler Schuess, Partner for the Jiangsu Region, another No — that abbreviated, non-descript,
impotent opportunist! And the others? Everyone else abstained. She narrowed her eyes as she
reviewed the tally. She expected much stronger support.
Fragments of thought swirled in Norma's mind. These votes were all so unacceptable!
Irwin's words droned like a kaparos pecking at tiny seeds of mistaken wisdom. "For nothing can be
more evident to those who are able to take an enlarged view of the subject ..."
Norma summoned a pranayama exercise. Holding her body rigid, she involved her complete mind in the
training, revived and purified from the ancient yoga teachings. The hurt surging out of her core
resisted the discipline, but she prevailed and regained tranquility.
Her attention drifted over the creamy pattern of pale rose-red and sky-blue that enclosed her.
Continent Popovich in all its abstract glory. The speckled graphic cave was her home, literally
and symbolically. Her parents had put it together for her. They had joined the people out there
in a cooperative, mutually beneficial effort, represented by this comforting set of colors.
And they bequeathed it to me. To me!
Not Irwin, not any of these Partners who seemed to think they had something to say about the way
she ran the consortium.
With her mind calm, Norma recognized that this petty challenge by Irwin and his makeshift alliance,
this soulful attempt of theirs to divert power to themselves, this procedural hustings could be
solved with political maneuvers. If she sent a text message to Schuess reminding him of debts, he
would quickly vote Yes. If she called a side will-see with Wari and Rai together, they would
understand their joint vulnerability and support Norma's motion. If she slipped separate
hyper-references to Al-Sen and Eshba, reminding them of specific incriminating images lying deeply
encrypted in the Lattice, well, then, they would have no choice but to join her side.
Abruptly, she swept a hand through the holographic poll, dismissing it, dismissing the Partners it
represented, dismissing the consortium they represented. But that flurry didn't help. A
pine-knot, weeping with pitch and fierce with flames, still burned inside her. Meditation hadn't
doused it after all. Instead, it flared larger, hotter.
Drench today's brushfire, and there'd be another tomorrow, maybe not Irwin, maybe not even another
Partner, but someone somewhere nibbling at her natural dominance. And nothing in the order of
things to stop them. Yeibichai was designed to work that way.
With a sob of confusion, Norma fled her office, not ducking out the doorway, but plunging through
its simulated wall.
The pastel surface swelled, blurred, parted, and vanished like a mirage. Norma slowed. Her
parlor, cool, dark, and real, unfolded around her. Rich with zhuhndí texture, the room enclosed
her with three physical walls, heavy furniture, lavish carpets, all inherited from her parents.
Their presence greeted Norma like a bonfire in a dismal night.
She lifted her face. Le Père stared back calmly, the flat line of his mouth softened by his love
for her. Next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder, stood La Mère de la Norma. A petite
woman, she smiled warmly, creasing her cheeks, lighting her eyes.
"What do I do, Papa? Do I just take care of business, like I've been doing since I took over your
Partner chair? Maman, how do I handle this challenge? It's coming from all over, outside,
inside. What do I do? Papa? Maman?"
The portrait didn't reply. Its paint, vivid and deep, captured a fond moment of life forever, but
it couldn't bring it back. Sight of this couple — Byukan and Hamil, organizers of the largest
combine on Popovich, the largest, single organization on the planet! — stayed Norma's
panic and opened her mind. She remembered a celebration.
Norma must have been a late-Niner, finished with adolescence, just starting her career studies.
Her parents had hosted these new people into their quarters, for evening meal and party
afterwards. She knew most of the company: experts from the staff, strategists for the largest
contracts. But the guests of honor — Norma recoiled in distaste — had been the last
non-Byukan-Hamil combine on the continent. They whittled metallic salts from the southern desert.
Their paltry direvnya lay beyond civilization. They adored group dancing. They plinked acoustic
instruments. They laughed out loud at the stupidest things. Yet they acted like they'd done
Byukan-Hamil a favor — a favor! — by merging with them. Norma hadn't believed the gall of these
people. She'd spent most of the evening alone in her room.
But the next morning, she listened to her father and mother talk about these presumptuous people.
"Now we can really go to work," Mna Josef Hamil said. "I can stop recruiting and start focusing on
efficiencies. And I think Slashdash's combine can help us there. We'll need to move their
planners up here."
Har Danielle Byukan shifted a serving bowl out of her way. "I spoke with Bertgilmap during the
evening. He'd like to help, but through Mirnaya Direvnya as much as possible. I gather he doesn't
like the crowds or the pace up here."
Le Père sucked his teeth. "We've got the critical mass here! Our best minds work together, mingle
their ideas, improve on each other. That can only happen when people work in close quarters."
"The Founders didn't see it that way, Joe. Small, separate, agile."
"They also understood efficiency of scale. That's the purpose of the Mirnaya Direvnya."
La Mère turned her head away, but shot a look at her husband. "At every chance, the Collective is
defined as the smallest possible number of people with a stake in the decision."
"They didn't have seventy-three million people on a continent, either."
"It's worked well for the last sixteen Twelver seconds!"
"This is a new era. We're the new era, Danny. We have challenges they never foresaw.
We—"
"Joe? Joe. Josef!"
He quieted, his face frozen in an impenetrable mask.
She went on, "We're on the same side of the table. We're looking in the same direction. We have
the same future in mind. Don't we?"
Le Père did not answer.
Norma's memory dissolved. Tears stung her eyes. She missed her parents, as always. This time,
though, she also understood their pain, their struggle, their resolve.
Slashdash and the rest of his combine? She'd hoped Le Père would leave them in the desert, but
they soon moved in. And ever since, she hadn't liked them, didn't think they fit in with the true
Byukan-Hamil culture.
"If I were queen, I'd put that right, move them back to the southern desert."
Calm blossomed within her. So still, she could feel her heart squeeze and release, her blood crest
and slack, her lungs fill, pause, and empty. So pristine, she floated without thought. So right,
she had to share it.
Norma stepped back through the office wall. The dusky parlor gave way to a soft, pale light. She
held her face to the pink-and-blue sky surrounding her. She and it were all that mattered. She
was destined to serve the Continent Popovich and it to serve her. They were one entity with one
purpose. If Le Père was willing to rework the Founders' Patterns when he thought it was necessary,
so am I.
Norma turned to the meeting. Her office had kept her place. Virtually, she had never left.
Irwin was saying, "Admit, for so is the fact, that this plan is only recommended, not
imposed, yet let it be remembered that it is neither recommended to blind approbation, not
to blind reprobation; but to that sedate and candid consideration—"
If La Mère could see that a new challenge sometimes meant totally new responses, so can I.
"Irwin," she interrupted. "I've been a fool." She spread her hands with a self-deprecating
shrug. "Of course we should do it your way. I withdraw my motion to focus Dain on Ganj Dareh. I
move that the Team adopt your approach to this novel situation. That way we can let Chief Heejanus
get back to winning the contract."
"I second the motion," said Schuess.
If Le Père and La Mère can reshape a continent, so can I. But I'm not stopping there! Not when
there's a whole planet out there, crying out for change!
"All in favor?" Norma asked and let the office record the votes. "Irwin," she said cordially.
"Would you open the meeting back up again?"
