Chapter 2, "Day -30", Scene 3 = "Step toward the Future," Section 7

Weir Annadetcall

Everyone in the hall waited as Weir continued. "Before we can all take the stroll down to the docks, we do have to attend to a couple of matters. First, to set the tone for our project in its final stages, I'd like Günter to speak." Günter who had cajoled ideas out of Weir and suggested this very meeting to enact them, then showed up to watch. Weir lobbed some of that pressure back to his boss.

Quiet solidified. Weir could almost feel ears prick up.

"Seems like," started the familiar, gravelly voice, "the tactician always wants me to say a few words at these gatherings. As if it would make a difference."

A uniform chuckle popped into the air.

"I like to think that this project is important, not just to me, not just to Con-Hominium Gatogrebok, but to our world in its entirety. That's why I have been filling the role of combine strategist —"

Hubbub broke erratically over the room. Günter's laugh boomed and pushed it out of the way. "I guess you finally feel some pity for Weir." He laughed again to a chorus of echoes that weakened even as they spread through the room. "I am very pleased with the work you have done so far. I am proud as well, but I expect to be proud of my associates. I am not always pleased." He kept talking over the chortles sycophantic that spotted the room. "But I am pleased today. I expect to be pleased again in thirty days. And remember, the journey to that success begins today."

When they realized he was done, the members applauded. Quickly, the claps became snaps whose rhythm implied the words "Move On to Ganj Dareh."

A sign that morale surges despite their trial impending? Weir wondered. Or it could mean they don't understand what we're setting out to do, that Stage Three means action. We are no longer just taking exercise. What happens now will affect our lives — and over a million lives in Ganj Dareh. Did Günter's speech ready them strategically for that weight over the long run and for the gauntlet we've prepared for their short run?

Günter and he had reworked this next step many times to achieve the correct blend of fever and focus to win the votes of Ganj Dareh's Collective ... and summon energy for the sprint of marketing that impended ... and build endurance for delivering the contract once they won it ... and — Weir sighed. Success required a vast synergy. Can I maintain the blend already achieved? Can I hone its tactics now as needed? Will I get the two things I want out of all this?

Weir drew a breath long and slow. I'll soon find out. "Last item," he announced. The snaps stopped.

First, review where we are. "We've all worked hard over the past thirty-five days, more preparation than Günter has ever allotted to a project. In that time, we've reviewed every contract anshinkan the Con-Hominium is delivering on eight continents, everywhere except Popovich. We've ridden our creativity hard to conceive and define improvements to those contracts so that we can offer Ganj Dareh the best service anywhere. We've modeled that direvnya and its Collective in every way possible, geography, society, business, recreation, via Em-Deh and Beobachtung, everything short of actually stepping foot on their paths — lest we reveal our intentions to Byukan-Hamil. We've investigated that competitor, learned a few things from them, but even more often, identified our strengths and their weaknesses. We've planned that service in detail and we wrote a draft proposal." And during that time, I've just administered and coordinated. I've never sat with you all and told you how I was going to run your future lives.

Weir caught his thoughts wandering, egged on by the eel of nervousness which skittered through his bowels with increasing energy. He refocused on the map they'd prepared for his speech.

Second, offer a small reward for past performance. "All that work meant that you — and I — haven't been home as much as we like, but at least we could drive home easily. For the next thirty days, it won't be that easy to see your families — for those of you comprising the Crew-for-Selling anyway." He paused for effect. "No' that you are going to have much time for it because now we must sell our proposal to that distant Collective."

He allowed two breaths for the groan oozing through his combine. The Crew-for-Selling would be working feverishly right up to the second the actual selection was made, though some slack could always be released to respect people's real lives.

"So, I am authorizing one trip home for each member of the Crew-for-Selling. Work out the timing with your team-leads." He waited for a reaction. How short-term are they thinking? Will they snap up this tidbit? Or wait for the details of implementation they must know are coming?

They waited. A single question seemed to clog the very air of the Center, everything held taut by universal doubt. Weir straightened in his seat and allowed a smile to tug at one corner of his mouth. Günter and he had read their temperament, tuned into their minds, and guided them to this point of departure. So he opened his mouth to address that question — and with a pang midway between navel and groin, joined the others in doubt: he hoped he was right about that question.

"You're probably wondering who will comprise the Crew-for-Selling."

A rush of movements slight answered him as they all nodded in agreement or leaned forward in anticipation.

Weir's pang eased. His metaphorical eel quieted. At least, he had known the question. Now to see if his and Günter's answer worked as well.

"I remind you of the challenge facing the Crew-for-Selling. We — that Crew and I — will be fine-tuning our offering amid the Collective whose vote determines which combine wins the contract anshinkan and which slinks home to look for other work. We will be marketing us — all of us — and our distinct way of caring for that Collective's health and safety. We will carry payback for our long effort to-date. We will determine the security and reward of our mutual futures."

More stirrings, this time spiked with impatience. Weir winced. He had risked this reaction to re-state the responsibility. They want to know structure, authority, and compensation, the true determinants of success.

Structure first. "The Crew-for-Selling will number eighty-four including me, organized into fourteen teams. Each team will open a clinic to demonstrate our capabilities in a different community of Ganj Dareh. For each team, we will need a team-leader, a coordinator, two Nurses, one counselor, and a Techniker."

Thus, Item One of Weir's two-list of goals for this boat ride: team leaders, people with skills, experience, and personality to rise up out of the river-like combine and ride it with him, to lift some of the burden management and steer him — and the combine — away from errors. Not just in the Crew-for-Selling, but also back here, in the Crew-in-Support.

Till now, at Günter's insistence, Weir had operated with the shallowest of organizations: everybody worked directly for him. Of course, each had assumed control transient at least one time, managed a team for an exercise, led a seminar, arranged quarters or a meal. Weir understood that the Pattern for Management suggested flat hierarchies, but he needed relief from this extreme form. Günter had acknowledged that complaint tersely with maybe just a touch of smile.

Authority now. "Each team will operate independently, free to adapt to its community, free to pursue success, all within the confines of our strategy overall. The vote of each Community Collective will determine the success relative of each team while Ganj Dareh's vote entire will determine the success absolute of our combine. I could say that these metrics mean that if we lose this bid, some teams could lose less than others. Of course, I'd rather say that in the midst of victory, some teams will take home more bonus than others.

"Speaking of bonuses." Weir touched his llevar, a skim of his finger to provide fiducia, and revealed details hidden in the project plan: everything he had described so far, plus the money. Their silence receptive vanished beneath a surge of tiny noises as machines, furniture, and bodies focused on the new information.

Weir surveyed the room with glances. Bodies hunched. Heads drooped. Minds skipped preliminaries and burrowed into payscales. He knew they'd see good money for the Crew-for-Selling if they won the bid. They would also earn fair money if they lost. Members of combines did not work proposals for nothing, although the Con-Hominium might.

Some heads rose slightly, erratic bobs as if stones had been tossed into a pond. They had seen the créme de la créme, but that left eighty-six percent without a place in the scheme of things. They now looked for other hints. Weir triggered details for the Crew-in-Support. Their money wasn't quite as good, but it would pay the bills; and the work was deemed crucial to the success of the marketing effort. Win the contract and everyone in the combine would benefit, short- and long-term.

"As you can see," Weir spoke in hushed tones to emphasize the next thirty days for everyone. "Each team in Ganj Dareh will rely heavily on its particular support. Their needs will determine activity back here on Grissom. Its leader will direct and evaluate that effort. While the Crew-in-Support may be able to drive home, I don't expect them to do that often. However, I do hereby authorize a single break for each of them á la the Crew-for-Selling."

All around him, shoulders eased back and faces rose to the dim lights. Satisfied, they thought they knew everything they needed for now ... but hey! How do —

Grinning as he read their minds, Weir focused on Item Two of his list: he wanted help against the unknown, the best help his combine could muster. He didn't worry about expertise; Günter had funded a raft of experts on-call for advice. He didn't worry about energy and application; his people had demonstrated those in abundance. He did worry about the future, always a mere second away, yet as opaque and scary as ever since humans first became aware of its awful impact on life. That life wasn't all about business, selling it and delivering it. There were things out there that could wreck all their plans and maybe even their lives. He wanted to be as ready for that as possible.

He said, "Now you see why I put us all on a boat. We will all focus together on games. Games for the body, games for the mind. Games for teams and games on your own. Games that are fun and some that aren't. Games that will enable you to understand each other better, for your votes will help determine the Crew-for-Selling, fifty-percent weight. Günter and I will share the other half of the responsibility."

Weir once more appraised the mood around him. Confusion, quiet lest it betray ignorance, and some indignation: why use games to select the Crew-for-Selling?

"Zhuhndí, zhee-tely, zhuhndí. For all our research, for all our simulations, for all the openness provided by our society global, zhuhndí has a way of foiling preparation. Our Crew-for-Selling must bring something more to Ganj Dareh than the excellent proposal and its background we have assembled over the past thirty-five days. They must bring creativity. They must bring flexibility. And they must bring a joy for recognizing problems and converting them to opportunities. These games will help us all understand who has those capabilities for pathfinding and who should work for those pathfinders."

Weir watched as his people quietly released their breaths pent-up and showed pouts of appreciation, smiles of challenge accepted, and scowls of contemplation. They continued to listen closely.

"Once selected, each team for selling will in turn choose its Crew-in-Support, so remember your dual agenda here: winning and cooperation. Beyond that, also keep in mind our ultimate goal: that we come together again in Ganj Dareh as a Crew-for-Delivery."

More movements without vocal reaction. His combine gathered their things, eager for the next step in the process. He had answered their questions, initial and follow-on, and they wanted to get to work on those answers. Exactly where he — and Günter — wanted them. They know what they have to do now. Weir closed his eyes and prayed, I just hope I do.

"Now, everybody out! The schedule details your next sessions. Those sessions will be on-board. You have some time scheduled to gather your kits. Plus, this meeting has run so well that you have even more time. Don't be late. Adjourned!" He added the last word to make it official and end the recording.

"Weir!" came Günter's voice over the hall's speakers. "See me before you leave."

The command, set in the strategist's voice distinctive and gravelly, snapped the grave mood. Laughs flared in sectors around the large room, then caught on in a low-key fire of relief. Soon, though, it died out in favor of a rhythm kept with snaps of fingers, claps of hands, and stamps of feet. "Move On to Ganj Dareh," the beat said, and Weir knew they were ready to do just that.

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