The Weapon - Resurrection - part 34
By Diana the Valkyrie
Live long and prosper
Update: 13/07/2003 to valkyrie05


We gave the next couple of weeks to ourselves. I mean, what's the use of being
able to fly, if all you do is walk? She showed me how much fun it is to soar
through the sky, perform aerobatics over London, and play tag with military
jet fighters. I showed her the delights of Gilbert and Sullivan opera, Marx
Brothers movies and the British Museum. I took her to the Imperial War Museum
at Duxford, and we got to see a Spitfire up close. And when I say "up close",
I mean up close while it was flying. And they fly slowly enough that she could
carry me while she played tag with it, I could take the G-forces of her
manouevers. She took me to the Taj Mahal, and we enjoyed a picnic under the
pale moonlight, a thousand feet above the ground. I took her to see the
Supergirl movie.

But in case you get the impression that we were just goofing off, it wasn't
quite like that. Duncan (or to be precise, Wendy's emulation of Duncan) was
setting up some important meetings; major events were being teed up ready to
roll. It takes time to get the biggest bigwigs of industry and finance
together, but when the Guardian of Humanity calls a meeting, people tend to
clear their diaries. They were willing to turn up just because she'd be there;
I'm sure they had no idea of the size of the bomb she was about to drop on
them.

The old Stock Exchange building was now an empty shell. The hustle and bustle,
hue and cry, bid and offer of the trading floor of a hundred years ago, had
given way to the silent virtual hiss of electrons as they illuminated the
broker's screens in a thousand offices all over the world. So we were able to
rent the ancient building for the First Guardian of Humanity Economic
Conference at a pretty low cost. Food included.

The agenda was simple. There were three parts.

1. Opening address by the Guardian of Humanity

2. Discussion of details

3. Agreement and actions.

Maybe it was arrogant of us to assume that agreement would happen, but I've
seen Wendy in action often enough to be pretty sure that if she targeted
something, she got it.

As usual, the whole thing was done with the full blaze of publicity; all the
news-sites had a direct feed (for a reasonable sum) and we fully expected an
audience of a billion for her opening address, plus with repeats and replays,
it would reach every human on the planet. So we worked hard on that speech.
Duncan and Wendy, Fiona and I threw phrases around, tried out resonances,
honed and polished it until it was every bit as good as Churchill in his
prime. Except that Wendy wasn't offering blood, toil, tears, and sweat.

Three hundred invitations went out, to the captains of industry, to the grey
men of banking, to the most important shakers and movers everywhere. To the
suits, the power lunchers, the money men. The invitation was simple. "You are
invited by the Guardian of Humanity to get in on the ground floor of the
greatest economic opportunity the world has ever seen."

Three hundred attendees turned up. The hazards of travel and possible exposure
to infectious disease were dwarfed by the possibilities of huge profits.

The meeting was held on the Stock Exchange floor itself, a huge circular room.
For this occasion, it had been filled with small tables and chairs, as in a
banqueting area. There was no raised stage, no row of speakers, no lectern.
But once they were seated, Wendy did her illusion of flying in through the
wall of the building, those magnificent white wings beating slowly, fifteen
beats to the minute, as she soared above their heads. She spiralled in and
down until she was just ten feet above the ground. Then she folded those wings
back behind her, and hovered in place until the applause died down.

"I am the Guardian of Humanity, and you are the people I care about."

We'd argued a lot about that opening line. 'Ladies and Gentlemen' was a bit
pedestrian, Duncan wanted something along the lines of 'Friends, Romans,
Countrymen', only translated to be appropriate. Fiona suggested the Roosevelt
Opening of 'My fellow Americans' (but suitably changed, to 'My fellow humans'
it was wrong because she isn't human, and 'my fellow people' sounded awful).
Wendy liked the sound of 'My babies', but I explained to her that this
collection of the Great and the Wise didn't see themselves as babies. I
suggested "People of Earth", but that sounded like the opening line of an
ultimatum from the War of the Worlds. It was Matty who came up with the line
we actually used.

The next part of the speech was obvious to all of us.

"We have torn down the barriers between countries; international trade is now
free and unhindered once again. This opens up new possibilities, fresh
opportunities, green pastures."

I thought the "we" was a nice touch. Actually, it had been Wendy
single-handed. But if you give credit to other people, they feel warmer about
changes. The main point of that sentence, however, was to underline the fact
that, as of now, things have already changed for the better. The bandwagon has
taken off, and if you're not aboard, you'll miss the fun. And the profit.
Profit? Yes. We were talking to the suits, remember.

"I'd like to point to three major problems; the economic slump, the medical
crisis and the energy shortage."

Well, they already knew about these, but we wanted to focus their minds on
what this conference was going to be about.

"Problems. Big problems. Too big for humanity to handle, but not too big for
the Guardian of Humanity. Because a problem is just an opportunity, seen from
the other end."

That was one of Duncan's favourite sayings.

"All three of these problems can be solved. And now that the political crisis
is settled, they will be solved. Because my company, Pretty Flamingo, is going
to invest twenty trillion dollars into medical research and into the building
of fusion power plants, sited all over the world."

You could hear the sharp intake of breath. Twenty trillion dollars. Even the
fat cats sat here respected a figure like that.

"This isn't a charitable donation. This is a hard-headed business investment.
Pretty Flamingo expects to return satisfactory profits out of selling the
energy generated, and the disease cures."

The motive given was a flat lie. But the suits needed to hear that there was a
motive they could understand. Profit. That's why we kept repeating that word
throughout the speech. And "satisfactory profits" is the code phrase for
"obscenely huge and massive profits".

"You're probably wondering where Pretty Flamingo will find twenty trillion
dollars. You're probably wondering why I'm announcing this to you, why you're
here. And you're probably wondering what role the Guardian of Humanity plays
in this. Well, listen carefully, because I'm going to tell you."

The constant repetition of the phrase twenty trillion dollars was deliberate.
By now, their mouths were watering.

"Pretty Flamingo is going to allow you to participate in this
once-in-a-lifetime economic opportunity. You can subscribe as much or as
little as you want, subject to certain minimum amounts."

The minimum was going to be eye-wateringly huge.

"This subscription will be part loan, part equity. You can choose which of
those you want. You can make a fixed-interest loan, at an unprecedentedly
generous rate of interest, or you can own equity in the economic revival. The
rewards will be enormous, because our profitability will be unprecedented. We
will be selling the heat, light and energy that people must have to live. We
will be selling the health requirements that people will need in order to live
long. And we will be offering the economic opportunities that will make it
possible for each individual on the planet to live long and prosper."

This was our substitute for "blood, toil, tears, and sweat", we were offering
"live long and prosper"; most of them wouldn't even know that this was the
Vulcan greeting on the old Star Trek series. That was Duncan's idea.

"You're all hard-headed business men, you're immediately thinking about the
risks inherent in this venture. What if the diseases cannot be cured? What if
it isn't possible to get planning permission for building the fusion plants.
What if it all comes unstuck, what happens to your investment then?"

They hadn't been thinking about that, actually, they were still at the
glassy-eyed salivation stage, but they would think of this sooner or later, so
it was best to deal with it.

"That's where I come in. All investments will be guaranteed by the Guardian of
Humanity. I will underwrite the entire sum, the whole twenty trillion
dollars."

You could have cut the scepticism with a knife.

"There's gold in the oceans. There's only a little in each cubic meter, but
there's a lot of ocean. And so there's a lot of gold. And I can extract it.
Look."

She extended her great white wings, and beat them hard, while staying
stationary. Then she extended them out further, reaching out to the walls and
ceiling of that great hall, then wrapped them round herself, enclosing her
body inside their feathery walls. Then she rose up ten feet, folded her wings,
and let them see what was standing where she had been.

It was a huge statue, ten feet high, solid gold. It showed the Guardian of
Humanity, wings half-opened behind her, one arm reaching for the sky, the
other arm holding a baby. Wendy had insisted on the baby.

It must have weighed tons. It must have been worth billions. It was a
significant work of art in its own right. It impressed the hell out of the
assembled bankers and businessmen.

"You are all men of substance, men of credit, men of honour. I'll leave you to
decide amongst yourselves how to float this equity offer and loan. Elect a
steering committee, draft your proposals, and I'll be back in eight hours to
finalise the agreement."

And those great white wings extended out to her full fifty-foot wingspan, beat
slowly up and down as she circled the hall, rising as she went, until with a
sharp bank to the right, she exited though the wall of the building in exactly
the same way she'd entered.

. . .