Andrew Thinnick opened the humidor on the credenza in his office, selected a substantial cigar, and drew in its scent as he lightly tested it between thumb and forefinger. He offered one to his nephew with a wave of his hand.
“You know I’m not a fan, Uncle. Thank you, though.” Murdoch finished pouring their bourbon and took a seat in the part of the office that was set up for comfort, rather than work. Sometimes relaxing was the work.
After cropping its end and patiently coaxing the cigar to a glow, the elder Thinnick eased into a sumptuous leather club chair opposite his nephew. “One of these days, Murdoch,” he smiled warmly as he peered at him through the first cloud of fragrant smoke, “I hope you will learn to appreciate this little luxury. This one, it’s a Dunhill, a Don Candido. Lost in storage for decades. You wouldn’t imagine they would hold up so well for so long, but properly stored…” He drew on it again and savored. “Better than wine. Creamy, such rich flavors. Nutmeg in this one. Delicious.”
“I will just appreciate it second hand for now,” Murdoch returned the smile, and paused as he considered his moment. “Before the others left it sounded to me that you were dropping a hint.”
Andrew eyed him again. “I was.” Another slow draw, then he set it aside and turned to the bourbon. “This is the good stuff, Murdoch.”
Murdoch knew enough to say nothing. He took an appreciative sip of his drink as he waited.
“I think the time has come to give you more to do.” Andrew took his time. “You have done good work for MedImplant. Very solid performance throughout your product portfolio. Also, I think you have a natural affinity for the nuances of a project like Sentinel. That’s why I brought you in, and today’s meeting cemented it for me.” He paused to take another draw from the cigar, and studied its glowing end as he blew out another small cloud. “I want you to take the lead on that project. You will be skipping up to the V.P. level.”
“Uncle, I am honored. Thank you.” Murdoch couldn’t contain his broad grin.
Andrew nodded with the warm smile again. “I feel you have earned it. There may be some who will cry nepotism, but let ’em. Doesn’t matter. Hard cheese for them. You are well suited and capable.” He raised his glass to Murdoch, who returned the gesture.
“Really, thank you. I am deeply grateful.”
“Of course.” Andrew sipped again. “Now you should prepare yourself for travel. This is already in motion, though you wouldn’t have been aware. We are moving Sentinel to our facility in Congo.”
“For heaven’s sake, Uncle!” Murdoch’s smile fell to the floor. “Congo?”
“There are good reasons.” Andrew sat forward now. “There are some details of the project that are not widely known. You already know some of it, but there’s more, and keeping a lid on it long term will be essential. Another reason I need you in charge there.”
“All the details will be available on your screen. Truly for your eyes only, you understand? In the meantime I will give you a rundown of the important points… and if you would be so kind…” He held his empty glass aloft. “You can add a finger more this time. Or two.”
—
Andrew continued as Murdoch poured. “You may have wondered just why Congressman Rickard is so keen to involve himself at every opportunity.”
“I know he has been very helpful greasing wheels all along, from pulling together the players for the medical pilot projects, and then setting up the manufacturing and distribution chains. I assumed he was still doing everything he can for Massachusetts.”
“Certainly, but that’s not all. Our success attracted attention, naturally, and it turned out someone somewhere put two and two together and came up with another application for our technology. That someone, or someones, approached Rickard to grease those wheels too.”
“Really? Who would that be? And what application?”
Freshened drink in hand, and with another small cloud of fragrant smoke in the air, Andrew sank back in his chair again. “Rickard has clearly been told to reveal as little as possible. From what he has shared, or let slip, I believe it’s a committee in front of a group of security agencies.”
“How interesting. So what do they have in mind for our little bugs?” Murdoch was visibly pondering the question. “Wait, they want to listen in to people’s implants?”
“Reasonable, Murdoch, but no. New way of deploying them altogether.”
—
Murdoch was tempted to keep guessing. “How intriguing. I feel I should be able to work it out.”
“Let me put you out of your misery, my boy,” Andrew was enjoying the relaxed conversation, but there was a lot to get through. “The implants work as a small network of sensors and transponders, of course you know this perfectly well. With specialized sensors inside the body to detect any of a long list of conditions, and transponders to relay their signals to a receiver outside the body, we can find problems that would have gone unnoticed in the past. What our friends in the security world thought of doing is using a version of the bugs that can be distributed not in people’s bodies, but everywhere else. Quite literally everywhere else.”
Murdoch sat with his glass stalled in the air on its way to his lips, quietly absorbing the idea.
“They thought the bugs should be able to communicate through a mesh, just like the traffic mesh we all rely on everyday as we get around. The MIT people already used the traffic mesh people’s ideas to pass information within the medical implant networks. Now we’re looking at those ideas again, to manage data flowing between local deployments of bugs, and the places where our friends will be using whatever they can gather from the mesh.”[ Need to be consistent with FM Radbo mtg, and MIT MI mtgs
Seems like MT would already know this part]
“Good God.” Murdoch was not one to take his Lord’s name in vain.
“So there’s that set of challenges, and adapting the bug technology so they can function effectively in the outer world.” Andrew was smiling as he paused for an overdue sip of bourbon, and a draw on the cigar.
“And I haven’t got to the best part yet, my boy. It’s the part that makes you the ideal man to manage this project.”
—
—
“My head is swimming, Uncle. And it’s not just this bourbon. Fine as it is.” That didn’t stop him taking another swig. “You’re amazing me.”
“I know, certainly it’s a lot to take in.”
“But what are they listening to? Our bugs detect substances or organisms. That’s no use for any kind of eavesdropping. That’s what we’re talking about isn’t it?”
Andrew nodded, and smoked. “There are a few possibilities. First, thanks to the shift, almost every appliance and object has some kind of integrated device. Think how many of the things we use every day accept voice commands. Those objects are polling for audio input all the time. So one avenue is to tap into those devices and relay any received audio signals through the mesh. Basic. That kind of thing has been going on since connected objects first appeared.“
“Of course.” It seemed so obvious. How did I not think of that.
“Then there’s the bugs themselves. There’s already a great deal of variation in sensor technology in the units, it may be practical to include audio, visual, proximity sensors, that kind of thing. That will be up to you to explore.”
“This all makes sense technically, but I cannot even conceive of the cost. You know what an implant costs to install and service. This is, what, millions of times more extensive?”
Andrew chuckled in agreement, “Yes, millions is probably an underestimate.”
“And how is any of this legal?”
Murdoch’s face tightened as his uncle’s chuckle turned to a laugh, “Oh Murdoch, have you not been paying attention?”
Andrew noticed Murdoch’s change in demeanor. He leaned closer. “You know, my boy, I hope you don’t mind this friendly advice from your uncs. You must be easier on yourself. I’ve seen this in you since you were in your mother’s arms. You are much too critical of yourself. You’re the leader now. Your position is secure. You can let things roll off.” He hoped his expression was encouraging. A shadow of concern swept though his mind.
Andrew returned to the question of legality. “Remember the Lake-Ritter Act? At the time, all the fanfare was about giving law enforcement the equipment they needed and letting them do their jobs. What was concealed in the details was stripping away the obstacles that would get in the way of this kind of project. Judicial oversight, public input. Approval of appropriations.”
“We can thank our congressman and his colleagues, there are no legal obstacles as long as this stays out of public sight. And no shortage of funds to see it through.”
“I see.” Murdoch seemed more composed again. He sipped his drink as he looked out of the window. “But how can we possibly keep a project this big, this enormous, out of sight?”
“Well, Murdoch, that’s where we rely on your unique talents. Another thing I have observed about you since you were very young. Let’s say, a talent for presenting the reality you want others to see, and convincing them of it.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of that, Uncle.”
“I see you Murdoch. I have always seen you.” The cigar was noticeably shorter now. Andrew looked at it a little wistfully. “Perhaps it’s not a trait to encourage in children. But in our business, invaluable. Your highest priority will be to decide how to present Sentinel to the world so no-one asks questions we don’t want them to, while steaming ahead, and making us all richer than God.”
Murdoch managed to maintain his smile, only wincing inwardly at his uncle’s blasphemy. He returned to the view out of the window as he struggled to grasp the dimensions of his new position.
Thinnick had an excellent idea right off. I know, he said to himself. I’ll just say it’s all to fight the climate crisis. Doing our bit. Corporate responsibility in action. They’ll love it. I can do absolutely anything and no one will question it. And no one can prove we’re not doing what we say – how can they measure any impact, or lack of impact? Can’t. It’s brilliant.
Solved.
Estelle Van Sluys touched up her lipstick, tufted a few straying locks back into place, and gave her reflection a brief look of appraisal. Finding no more pieces out of place, the look turned into a gaze of affirmation, as though she were looking a friend in the eye to help her find a last extra measure of confidence before a big moment. Game time, girlfriend.
She strode from her office, down the hall, through two sets of secure doors to an inner waiting area, where her visitors were gathered expectantly. They stood to shake her hand and were introduced by the senior man, her contact.
The oldest among them was a familiar face. The others she had not met, and they in turn had little idea what to expect from her. Perhaps they imagined someone like the librarians and science teachers they could remember. An academic in science, but in all events a woman, most likely an innocuous woman. They had all imagined a person ready to be led in the right direction, with the right kind of persuasion and pressure. They had an abundant supply of persuasion and pressure. The world’s experts in persuasion and pressure.
Even standing face to face, they still could not anticipate the force of nature they were soon to be dealing with.
Estelle noted which of them glanced surreptitiously up and down, especially the one who was not at all subtle about it, with a bit too much of a smile, over-familiar in his greeting. No doubt he thought he was charming, and letting her know what a rogue. Ass. Also the young one who did not sneak glances, who seemed a little more serious, holding back.
She was perfectly well aware of the effect her physical appearance and outgoing manner had on men. She felt no reluctance to put it to use. If you were gifted with intellectual advantages, would you hesitate to use them? Why would physical advantages be any different? Van Sluys was brimming with both. Too bad for the men on the other side of the negotiating table that the presence of one usually blinded them to the presence of the other.
She had escorted dozens of men and women in expensive suits down these corridors, through the security doors, into the inner sanctum, and given the same screen presentations, displayed the same series of models and mockups, fielded many of the same questions, and exchanged very similar provisional numbers. Good enough results so far. Enough to keep things moving, not enough to accelerate progress and finally get this work into orbit.
She sensed this time might be different.
For once, what she had to offer was exactly what they really needed. Still, it troubled her that she could not get a clear read on exactly why that was, what they had in mind for the technology. Everything they had indicated so far was clearly baloney. A cover for something.
—
As host she took the head of the table and led the conversation. Once small talk reached a lull, she began her well-worn welcome speech, outlined the agenda for the day, and asked for any additions that would help the team get what they needed from the day.
All the while, she continued sizing up the individuals and the dynamics between them.
The senior, comfortable in his authority, was the CEO of the newly formed Medimplant Corporation. Andrew Thinnick. Impeccably groomed, dark grey suit, colorful patterend tie. Echoes of a british accent. Perhaps an old money scion brought into the high-tech world for a measure of stability, or for his connections. She wondered if the accent was real, or an affect.
Rickard, the congressman, who had facilitated the meeting. Suit and tie to blend into any political venue anywhere. She could sense his furtive eyes on her. A level of comfort and deference between those two. They were cozy.
The rogue. Thomas Carter. Blue suit and glossy tan wingtips. Florid tie. Executive V.P., and young to be in that position. Sucking up to power, but still trying to signal to her with exaggerated politeness and roving eyes. Like a dog. Not a power thing, a puppy thing. God help him, he can’t help himself. How did he land an E.V.P. role?
And the product manager. Murdoch Thinnick, nephew of Andrew, as it turned out. All beiges and greys. Brought along to make up the numbers? For experience? The youngest, but the most serious. Respectful, not intimidated. Asking some intelligent questions. Maybe more there than meets the eye.
“Well, Estelle, you have made remarkable progress.” Andrew Thinnick sat back in his conference chair. “The smaller scale is definitely within the parameters we set, the communication range is much better. You have worked a miracle with the energy harvesting.”
“You know I can’t take credit for the improvements,” Van Sluys would be quite happy to take any and all credit on offer, but the positive reception from the Medimplant side made her feel generous, and the team deserved the nod. The technical work had landed just as it should, and she felt the fish was about to take the bait.
“But what I’m happiest to see are the changes you have outlined for the manufacturing process,” Thinnick continued. “You know profitability is the key to the entire project. Yes, the pilot has been a success technically – we know the technology will deliver the benefits, and that’s a remarkable achievement – but if it costs more to get an implant in Joe Public’s leg than we can bill him for, it doesn’t do us any good, no matter how strong the health benefits.”
“We need healthy numbers more than we need healthy patients,” quipped Carter.
Thinnick indulged a semi-smile, “Ideally we can have both.”
“Surely those benefits are strong enough that you could charge any amount and be justified,” Van Sluys offered. “Compared to the alternative, a lifetime consuming medications that barely work, patients and providers will be way ahead.”
“Only up to a point. Insurance limits set the bar we have to meet. The patient’s ability to pay is only a part of it.”
“And Pharma is not going to give up their giant cash cow without a fight to the death,” Carter chimed in.
“We need to have overwhelming advantages with cost as well as effectiveness.” Thinnick leaned forward over the table again. “We need to buy provider alliances out from under Pharma, as well as win the trust of patients.” He paged through the presentation on the screen in front of him. “These new manufacturing projections change the picture completely. How confident are you in those protocols?”
“At least eighty percent. The physics is sound, our prototypes are working as expected. Scaling to production will bring new challenges of course…”
“And those challenges become ours, so we need to be sure we’re not going to find surprises down the line,” Carter again.
Thinnick nodded. “We will do our due diligence here, and review everything you have shared today, but in principle we can agree to fund the next phase of development at the level you have outlined,”
Van Sluys quietly beamed. The fish is on the hook.
“We do have some additional specifications to add to the scope.” Thinnick continued. “Murdoch could you give Estelle an overview of our new requirements?”
“Of course, thank you, sir.” The younger Thinnick was even more formal than his uncle. His appearance and manner even more reminiscent of an older person, someone out of step with the current. “We did anticipate that you would have good news for us today, and on that basis we considered some possible applications that might take us into some new arenas.”
The congressman had smiled, nodded, and yes-indeeded with proprietary pleasure over the meeting so far. Perhaps an unusual approach for a man accustomed to being the one to make everything around him happen. Now he straightened in his chair, and paid particular attention to Murdoch’s remarks.
“We see additional opportunities using your technology, very strong opportunities, but as Mister Thinnick indicated, we will need some adjustments to specifications to meet them.” Murdoch pulled up a document. “I can share this detailed specification with you of course, but to summarize, we need at least half of all the units produced to be reduced to less than 10 percent of the current dimensions, and to increase the communication range, doubling it ideally.”
Van Sluys’s happy smiles had faded while Murdoch spoke, to be replaced by the pinched lips of a woman absorbing an unwelcome new aspect of reality. “A tenth of the size but double the comm range? Even I can tell you the energy requirements simply won’t allow that.”
Privately, she was thinking about the trophy she thought she was landing. Not a fish on the hook, a damn shark. Or an octopus.
Annoyance flashed across Murdoch’s face, he pressed his hand hard over his mouth before continuing. “I should clarify, the communication range needs to be double relative to the dimensions of the units, not in absolute terms.”
Van Sluys noted his stress. Odd reaction. Can’t let himself slip up. She relaxed as she felt the advantage shift toward her. “Can I ask what’s driving this need for such a significant change in scale?”
“We are not at liberty to divulge that at this time.” Murdoch seemed to have gathered his composure again. “We are working with partners who require strict discretion.”
Rickard woke up again, “The parties involved are serious about this project, and what your technology makes possible for them. It’s truly a win-win for all involved. You, MedImplant, and my constituents.”
Van Sluys took a moment to recalculate. “This changes things considerably, gentlemen.” She let the corners of her mouth turn up as she pursed her lips. The hint of a flirtation.
Nods all around. She took a deep breath. “I’m not going to tell you that what you’re asking is impossible. But it is absolutely an enormous challenge. The funding we discussed so far was based on the scope we agreed on earlier.”
They were still nodding, waiting to hear her reaction. She paused and took another slow breath. might as well make it count.
“If we’re going to deliver this, we need a different approach. We would be delivering to a specification that goes beyond anything we planned. Beyond anything ever created. We can’t agree on a number and then find it’s not going to work, because of problems we didn’t know we were going to find. If we’re going to do this for you, you will need to agree to open your pocketbooks and write whatever checks are needed, whenever they are needed.”
“A blank check?” Carter drew himself up, “I don’t think so!”
The elder Thinnick sank back into his chair again. “We recognize this does change the project materially. But we do have to set some kind of expectation for our partners. First though, do you think this new specification is something you can deliver on? Provisionally of course.”
Van Sluys considered for a moment, and something of her previous smile returned. “I believe so.”
“Then we can be flexible about funding. But we do need to set up parameters here. This project is very important to our partners, so if you give us realistic expectations and do deliver, we can assure you that we will meet them.”
“Very good.” Estelle’s smile broadened. Not a fish. A whale. “One more request. In consideration of your requirements, we would retain the right to find other markets for the technology we produce. Non-competing of course.”
“I cannot commit to that now, but in principle I think it should work. Let’s firm up the details from today’s discussion and sit down again with a working agreement.”
It was a couple of years on, when the MIT team pulled in a selection of consultants from the commercial world to help with a new phase of their development work. Forrest Morton was among them.[ 12/4/22, 2:48 PM
Change to be contemporaneous – ]
Early in his engagement, Forrest found one of the MIT team in particular was very much on his own wavelength. Interested in many things, not at all concerned with the politics of academia, or the posturing of those who were.
After a coffee break spent first wryly summarizing the pretensions of a presenter or two, then comparing notes about weird natural phenomena, and the simple logic of the fibonacci series in cell division, Radley Beaufort suggested lunch. Forrest accepted happily.
As he worked on his sandwich contemplatively, he studied the grisly contents of the glass tanks beside him. An odd contrast with the stacks of electrical components, and sheaves of wiring filling most of Beaufort’s office. His host and lunch companion, nicknamed Radbo by his grad students, looked up from his own dish of food-truck souvlaki and noticed Forrest’s gaze.
“Experiments,” he said, as though no additional details could possibly be needed.
Forrest looked up and asked the question with raised eyebrows.
“Looking at near field for nano-processors, and energization possibilities,” Radley added, helpfully.
“Pig organs?” Forrest recalled they were often used as a close biological substitute for human organs.
“Exactly.” Radbo took another forkful. “It’s the shiny surface that gives it away though, right? You can tell the little bugs are coating the organs. That’s one of the reasons you’re here. Encapsulation strategies. So they don’t stick out so much, and can survive wherever they end up.”
“Everything in the scoping docs referred to the micro-bots. Nothing as small as these things must be.”
“Yeah, well they are being very hush-hush about it, the assholes.” Radbo’s expression made it clear he wasn’t on board with the way the miniaturization project was being run, if his words hadn’t made it evident. “There are some pretty creepy people in and out of here, deep in significant conversations with Van Sluys. I’m highly suspicious of what they’re up to.”
Radbo pursed his lips, and cut himself short.
“Okay you can’t stop there, Radley.”
“Shit, I should keep my mouth shut,” but he clearly didn’t want to. “The micro size makes perfect sense for the medical applications we’re building towards, but not these smaller sizes,” Radbo tried to gesture the minuteness of the scale with pinched thumb and finger, “Incredibly small structures we’re talking about.”
Forrest’s mind went back to the goals of the work he had been asked to do. “So they will communicate the same as my T-M sensors and relays, you just need to get it done in units on a nano scale?”
“Right. And of course your traffic units can have whatever energy source makes sense for where they are. These little things have to harvest energy for themselves. That’s the toughest part of the job here.” Radley’s mind went back to the movement of the goal posts. “Thing is, there’s no need for them to be any smaller than micro, unless they’re expecting them to go through the blood-brain barrier and such. This requirement for nano dimensions is a new directive, not in the original spec. It was added after this new set of suits started showing up around here. No indication of what the use case is.”
“Oh crap, Radley. Suits! Well now you’re hosed aren’t you.” Forrest considered as he chewed. “I would say defense, but from what I’ve seen of the way those guys operate, the spec and use case and every little detail they’re looking for would be documented a mile deep.”
“Right?” Radbo nodded. “Government, same. Way too mysterious, puts my guard right up.”
“Any way you can winkle it out of Van Sluys?”
“Tried. I keep trying. She’s got my number, and I’ve got hers. She’s not one of us Forrest, my man. Anything she says about a better world is bovine work product.”
“Hmm.” Forrest swallowed the last bite of his sandwich.
Radley broke the pause, “Thanks for joining me. Time to get to the next session.”
He disposed of his left overs, Forrest picked up his belongings.
“Makes you really wonder whether your work will do the good you think it will.” Forrest paused by the door. “Do you worry about that?”
“Maybe some,” Radbo reflected. “Not really. What scares me is what people will build on the back of whatever I do. What my baby will evolve into that I could never anticipate. That’s scary as hell.”
—
The Reverend Ronan Rathmell was not accustomed to being kept waiting, and his growing irritation leaked out at the young woman who repeatedly rebuffed his requests to see Thinnick immediately. It had been over twenty minutes already.
“I’m so sorry Reverend, Mister Thinnick is detained a little longer, he sends his apologies… please wait for a few more moments, he will certainly be down as soon as he is free.”
Rathmell glowered at her. She was impervious. She looked young, but she had earned her position as gatekeeper to Murdoch Thinnick’s small office suite through a valuable mix of unflappable graciousness and immovable obstinacy.
“May I offer you a drink while you wait? I can prepare just about anything you prefer…”
Rathmell shook his head testily, then recovered enough to thank her. His thoughts had drifted toward self-doubt; he had forgotten himself.
After inspecting the art, he resorted to pacing. Was it a mistake to visit Thinnick in his own environment? He should have brought an ally. In his imagination he had always had the upper hand, had directed the conversation. He didn’t anticipate being at the mercy of an assistant. His face grew grimmer and colder as the minutes passed.
He refused to sit. He had no intention of relaxing, and letting his resolve soften. He reminded himself of his purpose, and rehearsed his arguments to keep them fresh in his mind.
Finally, Thinnick emerged, and led the Reverend toward his office. Rathmell thought Thinnick’s apologies seemed insincere. Like the art lining the corridor, all for show, meaning nothing. He heard a note of condescension, and braced himself. Had Thinnick purposefully kept him waiting, to undermine him?
—
Thinnick’s office had the look of a place composed to make an impression, without being lived in. Like an unappealing house staged with fashionable furniture to make it more palatable. Everything fresh and unused. Sterile.
Although Thinnick made an effort to sound cordial, there was a stiffness in his movements. He looked ill at ease.
Rathmell surveyed the view from the window for a moment, then took the seat he was offered. “You’ve come up in the world, brother Thinnick.” He could not keep the note of disapproval out of his voice. Thinnick heard it, although his modest smile did not let on.
“Kind of you to say, Reverend. This is only a temporary office, actually. I will not be here very long. The company has posted me to the Congo facility.”
—
“Congo!” Rathmell tried to picture the implications of such a move, whether that changed things. His thoughts turned to mission work, and he found his temper softened. “Why do they want you in Congo?”
Thinnick sensed the shift in Rathmell’s tone. “The company consolidated manufacturing there… close to the source of most of the raw material, you see. I will be overseeing new initiatives… new product lines and the data processing to support them. Best done on the ground, as it were.”
“I see. Does this mean you withdraw from pursuing the deaconship?”
“Heavens, no, Reverend.” Thinnick’s shoulders dropped, and his taught smile relaxed. Rathmell had revealed his intention, and now Thinnick felt his advantage. “This is very important to me. My Congo posting will not last forever, and in any case, I can fulfill my role as a deacon there just as well as anywhere else.”
“Brother Thinnick, consider for a moment that you will be completely removed from our congregation, from our community.” Rathmell’s face stiffened again. “I don’t see how you can contribute meaningfully as a deacon.”
“Respectfully, I have to disagree. I believe I can further the church’s mission even in such a remote place, by bringing the word of God to people wherever I may find them ready to hear it. Surely it is within the church’s mission to expand the Lord’s congregation, even outside of the local population? I can form and nurture disciples wherever I find questioning hearts.” Thinnick sat back in his seat, sure of his argument. “You know this has been my contribution here… it can be so in another part of the world.”
—
[still writing this section]Rathmell is pastor, he is proposing Thinn to the Bishop as deacon, sees a lot of status wrapped up in that, is refusing to do this unless Thinn quits M-I, because of contraception prog and abortion treatments. How can he be considered, he would be stripped of his connection in the church if he doesn’t get right with god in this. Rathmell knows about Congo, as MT mentioned it to him, RR sees a role in Congo as Deacon of church in furthering ministry/enang mission etc
Thinn actually wants this, he sees it as validation and status, and believes it gives him purpose. He sees BOTT as part of his deacon’s mission, hoping for elevation further up the church ladder.
—
a superior in the church placing pressure on him to do the right thing, with promise of higher status and some cherry role if he delivers, problem of appearance if he does not deliver, so he will be excluded, asked to step down
Supporting him depends on him giving what is required – it’s political
Thinnick can get what he wants by doing what is asked of him, but he figures he can do it in his own way.
“Reverend, I don’t believe I need to break with MedImplant, or condemn any of their products.”
“How can you say this?” Rathmell’s face flushed further. The veins became visible in his temples. “This company is doing the dark, dark work of the very devil, and you are participating in it. You are furthering it. You must be seen to oppose the evil done by the MedImplant Corporation, or you simply cannot be allowed to lead. I demand that you break all ties.”
Thinnick was unruffled. “God has surely not set me on this path for no reason. He has handed me the means and the power to do his work, right where I am.”
“Well, how do you plan to accomplish this?”
Thinnick looked Rathmell in the eye, evenly, patiently. The words he needed came to him after a few moments. “Wait for the Lord; Be strong and let your heart take courage.” There, a psalm will slow him down.
Thinnick was well aware of the value of his stock of biblical snippets. So often it had been far more persuasive to let Leviticus or Romans put his arguments across, or any other book that spoke to his advantage.
Rathmell’s energy was stalled. Thinnick pressed on, “For the vision is yet for the appointed time; It hastens toward the goal and it will not fail. Though it tarries, wait for it; For it will certainly come, it will not delay.”
Rathmell absorbed the message with pursed lips. “Habakkuk, brother Thinnick?”
MedImplant was run by some smart people, who combined good ideas with solid technology to deliver real medical benefits. [ Earlier para about MedImplant replacing Pharma approaches to medicine] .
The timing was good, the business strategies worked well. The company grew exponentially, and pulled the entire health sector and other parts of the economy along with it. Hospitals and clinics were organized around MedImplant systems. Manufacturing, distribution, and administrative facilities grew to supply the demand.
MedImplant maintained campuses around the world, with several in Africa. The facility in Congo was the among the first to be developed. Congolese mineral resources provided many of the raw materials used in medical implants, and the nation’s central location on the African continent made it an ideal logistics hub. The Kinshasa station developed as a data and control center, added to the existing mining, refining and manufacturing facilities.
There was another reason Congo became a center of operations for MedImplant – Congo had followed a long road toward prosperous independence that had not always been straight or free of very deep potholes. From Belgian occupation and colonization, through a series of unstable independent administrations, Congo was split into two parts, configured under a variety of names including words like, people’s, republic, democratic, while often struggling to embody any aspect of those principles, and struggling to be free of outside pressures. The larger eastern section was known as Zaire for a while, a homage to the Bantu roots of many of its inhabitants, but it wasn’t until the MedImplant people recognized the opportunity they were sitting on that Congo achieved real economic independence and a stable government. At a price.
MedImplant established a mining operation in Congo to gain control over the cost and supply of their critical resources, and it made simple economic sense to consolidate refining and manufacturing operations there as well. That way, they only needed to transport finished product, which had very high value and very low volume – being microscopic – rather than transporting bulky, low value commodities around the world to manufacturing facilities.
Their operations in Congo scaled up quickly and impressively. It wasn’t long before MedImplant was the dominant economic force in the country. Once there, it was a short, but inspired, step for MedImplant to provide the funding for public infrastructure in exchange for the presiding seat at every table.
MedImplant bestowed the benefits of its medical technology at extremely low cost. The employment opportunities created by the ever increasing manufacturing operations, and the medical diagnostics and treatment operations, created a booming economy, fueled rising incomes for most inhabitants, and a basic safety net for those who could not participate directly in Congo’s rapidly expanding tech sector.
Imagine a country that had been plagued by generations of colonial exploitation and its after effects, systemic poverty, malnutrition, conflict, crippled by endemic diseases like ebola, dengue fever, malaria, yellow fever, on and on, over the course of a few years eradicating them all and providing a high standard of living to most of its population.
Congo’s leaders welcomed MedImplant’s investment with open arms. The executives in charge had taken a big risk to launch their nation-building project. There were simply no examples of corporate involvement in the affairs of a nation that were not disguises for large scale exploitation and corruption, so a relationship based on sharing profit and benefit with an entire population was untried. The company could easily afford to be generous though, and the results spoke for themselves.
To the Congolese, MedImplant’s generosity seemed like a miracle, and there was very little opposition to the company having a say in so many aspects of Congo’s development. If anything, its growing role in the administration had a stabilizing effect. The example led other African nations to follow the model, looking for beneficial corporate partnerships to replace the completely one-side ones they had so often been trapped under for so long.
MedImplant’s executive team took great pride in their success. They could point to the health and prosperity of the nation as proof of their approach. In return, they were able to steer every aspect of the country’s economic development toward making the company more efficient, effective and profitable.
They achieved another valuable benefit, one that no MedImplant bigwig would ever mention publicly. They gained a nationwide testing ground for their technology, completely free of oversight or hindrance.
Kinshasa was the natural location for MedImplant’s facilities, being the largest, most developed city in Congo already. It was founded as a trading post on the bank of the Congo River, but grew to be the country’s center of culture as well as commerce. Three universities and a teeming population provided a ready work force for all parts of the growing company.
The economy boomed with MedImplant’s influence, and the growth became a magnet for people from other parts of Africa. There was a feeling of cosmopolitan freedom in the streets, matching the economic freedom of the young professional population. Businesses sprang up everywhere to serve them – retail, food service, nightspots. Kinshasa had a vital nightlife all along, it grew to be legendary.
Not everyone was pleased to see these changes. A significant number of people in Congo found these departures from traditional norms most disturbing. They fueled another social trend that grew in parallel, in reaction to the expanding freedoms.
This trend included growing numbers of people who found all this freedom to be a misrepresentation. Instead of making life better, it was pulling the young away from their families and their tribes, away from duty and service. Away from God. Making them think they could do as they pleased with no consequence.
These people of faith understood life was given to each person with an obligation to follow rules that had been laid down for all. They shared clarity about what those rules required, they understood the rules to be exacting and inflexible. They could not accept the indiscipline of modern life, they railed against it. Fiery sermons and social media proclamations confirmed and amplified their convictions, but to little effect. In their eyes, the government of Congo had made a pact with the devil, and the torment was unfolding before them in everyday life. Their consolation was the righteous knowledge that God’s judgement would eventually fall upon all sinners.
It was this part of Congo’s population that a certain young executive discovered as he prepared for his new role in MedImplant’s Kinshasa Station. Diving deep into threads of conversation on social channels, Murdoch Thinnick found exciting ideas, inspiring dedication, and people he was anxious to embrace.