The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual.
THE BIG O:
ACT 28
SCAPEGOAT
Chapter Three: Members of the Board
At around two o'clock, a number of vehicles arrived and men in dark suits got out. Dorothy watched them from the roof of the mansion and noted that they were dressed much like Roger Smith. Dark blazer, black slacks, black shoes, black tie, and black sunglasses. They spoke into radios and used binoculars as they surveyed the area.
She wanted to ask Roger what they were doing but he was rehearsing his speech. He was pacing the office, going over his monologue, saying it in various different ways in order to give his prose a rhythm that would have the proper psychological effect he desired. He gestured, affected facial expressions, and practiced different kinds of body language.
R Dorothy Wayneright knew better than to interrupt him and studied the men's activities. Finally she decided that the men in dark blazers were a security detail that was sent ahead to make sure that no snipers, ambushes or angry mobs greeted their charges.
Finally, at two fifty more dark sedans arrived. Even the board members of the Paradigm Corporation wouldn't dare to leave their dome in limousines with the civil unrest running unchecked throughout the city. They were despised by the rich and poor alike for supporting Alex Rosewater's bid for his 'New Order' and the people of Paradigm City were itching for a chance to get back at them.
Dorothy watched the men arrive. Norman showed them into Roger's office and they sat in chairs and the sofa. Dorothy watched from the piano bench.
R Instro had donated the piano to his favorite pupil after the previous one had been destroyed. It was the white grand piano that the tuxedoed android's creator had owned when an experiment in a sonic weapon blew off one wall of his house. The piano was exposed to the elements for over half a year before the android pianist had recovered it and set about restoring it.
Now it was painted black and adorning Roger's office, several stories beneath the parlor where Dorothy's previous piano had rested. When Dorothy had asked why the new piano wasn't where the old one was Roger made excuses about getting the android one that was in better condition, but the robotic girl suspected that the negotiator just didn't want a musical instrument so close to his bedroom.
A large chair and desk had been placed in the room. It was his intention to appear busy and to make a 'big entrance', all part of a psychological ploy to establish control. A single hourglass was on the desk, sand hissing through to the bottom. Across from it, a black telephone rested, its cord snaking away to the wall.
The Paradigm board members irritably sat and did not appear to like each other. They waited as far away from each other as civility would allow.
Seated in the love seat was a pale woman with strange black eyes, like an insect. She was probably in her late forties or early fifties. It was hard to tell, since her hair was dyed an exquisite shade of blonde.
A burly black man with a neatly trimmed beard and tinted glasses appeared to be in his late forties. He dominated a large plush chair that had been moved closer to the desk for this meeting.
A man with silvery white hair frowned in hostility seemed to have scar tissue under each eye. He dominated the couch, and was not adverse making it plain with his body language that there was no room for anyone else. He was white. His hair was white, his skin was pale, his suit was an off white egg color. It made his red tie really stand out.
The youngest was a balding man in his thirties who was actually attractive in a hostile, militant way and stood out from other board members by not appearing used up or unhealthy. Like Roger, his hair was jet black, and like Roger, he did not like to be kept waiting. "Take a picture, it will last longer," he snorted in response to the android's unblinking gaze.
Roger entered at five after three. "Gentlemen," he greeted as he strode into the room to take his place at his desk. "And lady," he nodded at the woman. "Thank you for coming by at such short notice. What can I do for you today?"
"Don't get so cocky, Smith," the younger man growled. "Why the hell couldn't you meet us at our headquarters? Why did you have to drag us all the way out here in the first place?"
"If my guests can't be civil, I ask them to leave," Roger retorted as if scolding a schoolboy.
"Leave it, Carl," the man in the white suit muttered. "It's not important."
"Thank you, Mr. Erskine," Roger nodded. "Dorothy, I'd like to introduce you to the senior members of the board. Francis Erskine, Gregory Stoker, Violet Web, and Carl Heller."
The coffee colored Gregory Stoker took the lead. "Mr. Smith, we have come to procure your services."
"Excellent," Roger replied. "Again, what can I do for you?"
"The situation on the streets is getting desperate," the colorless Erskine explained. "The social order is collapsing."
"For some reason, the people out there blame Paradigm for recent crisis," Heller continued.
"We need you to speak to the masses," Violet Web stared with her obviously artificial eyes in Roger's direction. Apparently Alan Gabriel wasn't the only cyborg in the city. "You have to get them to see reason."
"Reason?" Roger asked with exaggerated innocence.
"Yes, dammit," Erskine snapped. "They're tearing apart the city! Construction crews can't go out there and repair the damage. Its not safe."
"The agricultural domes require continuous vigilance from poachers," Stoker added. "If the rioters raid all of the food sources the entire city will starve."
"This could be the end of civilization as we know it!" Web squawked. "If they take down Paradigm the human race will have nothing left!"
"Dear me," Roger steepled his fingers and looked thoughtful. "It seems that Paradigm City is in real trouble."
"That's an understatement," Heller grumbled.
"What makes you think that the people will listen to me?" Roger asked. "With my expensive suit and fancy car they are just as likely to string me up instead of listen."
"You are supposed to be the best," Heller snapped.
"We've done some checking on you," Stoker added in a dangerously calm tone. "You were born outside the domes and lived in an orphanage until your wealthy foster parents took you in. Even now, with your success as Paradigm City's best negotiator, you still refuse to purchase a house inside the domes, preferring to live in an illegal residence district. The people know that deep in your heart, you're still one of them."
"So I'm 'one of them'," Roger smirked in predatory triumph. "You think that I can get in their heads and know how they think is that it? All of your corporate suits can't help you with the unwashed masses, but a negotiator who was born on the wrong side of the tracks could, huh?"
Stoker shrugged and smiled in exaggerated surrender. "That is just one of the things that makes you the best," he flattered.
Roger put his hands on his chin and pretended to think. "Hm, if I'm the best, then I can practically name my fee. Okay, I can get you out of this mess, but first you're going to have to do a few things for me, got it?"
"Name it," Erskine commanded.
"Get on the phone and get Colonel Dan Dastun out of jail," Roger ordered, "and while you're at it, get he and his men reinstated. What were the names of their companies, again? 'Bradbury' and 'Roddenberry'?"
"Excuse me?" Erskine's silver eyebrow rose in disbelief.
"Almost a week ago Dan Dastun asked me to negotiate with you to save his men's careers," Roger explained. "I haven't seen him since. I can only assume that you had him arrested for failing to support Rosewater's 'New Order'."
"He was relieved of his command for disobeying the direct orders of the marshal of the military police," Web protested without blinking her artificial eyes, "and he was arrested for encouraging two companies of police into following him while he fired military ordinance without authorization."
"No," Roger shook his head. "You had him arrested because he was a danger to you. He was capable of getting trained soldiers to follow him without even trying. He didn't ask any of them to follow him in his futile attack on the white megadeus. They did that on their own. Anybody who can command that kind of loyalty and is capable of thinking on his own is too dangerous to go free. I hope for your sakes you haven't assassinated him, because he's the only way you are going to get out of this mess."
"What are you talking about?" Stoker demanded.
"You'll see," Roger smiled. "The only way you can get out this with your skins intact is to make him a hero. I'll explain, but first I want to discuss the rest of my fee."
"Isn't that enough?" Web frowned.
"It's not even close," Roger smirked. "Your city is crumbling down around your ears. If you want me to save it before the bunch of you are put against the wall and shot you better do as I say before it's too late."
"Who the hell does this guy think he is?" Heller gasped in indignant disbelief.
"I think that I'm Paradigm City's best negotiator," Roger explained. "I think a great many other things too. Mr. Stoker, you said that I knew where the unwashed masses where coming from. Shall I explain how the situation looks like to those on the street?"
"At this point there doesn't seem to be a way to stop you," Stoker said dryly.
"Then I'll simplify it for you," Roger nodded. "Colonel Dastun didn't commit treason. Alex Rosewater did. Don't try to deny it. Everybody in Paradigm knows. There is really no way to hide it."
The board members squirmed in their seats and shifted uncomfortably. Some of them tried to blush, but their pasty and unhealthy complexions really wouldn't permit it. Even Stoker's coffee colored skin was too gray and unhealthy to flush properly. Only Carl Heller succeeded in turning beet red.
"Now wait just a minute," the youngest board member protested.
Roger cut him off. "Mr. Heller, not only was Alex Rosewater stupid enough to attack the city that he ruled, but he was dumb enough to project his image as the god of the 'New Order' all over the city while he was doing it. Everybody knows who was in the white megadeus. You don't need a negotiator you need a spin-doctor. Someone who can reorder the facts so that all of you don't get lynched. Now, about the rest of my fee…"
"How much is this going to cost us?" Erskine interrupted.
"Not more than you stand to lose if you don't follow my instructions, that's for sure," Roger said smugly. "In order to save the dying patient that is the Paradigm Corporation, you are all going to have to take some pretty nasty medicine. Are you willing to cut your losses or are you going to lose it all?"
"Name your price," Erskine grumbled.
"Okay," Roger shrugged. "Timothy Wayneright's mansion was cleaned out. All notes on his research were taken. I'm willing to bet that they're in Paradigm's vaults right now."
"Even if that was true, we couldn't possibly part with such information," Erskine countered. "We have reason to believe that Doctor Wayneright was involved in megadeus engineering. Enough giant robots have attacked this city already. It would be irresponsible to…"
"Mr. Erskine, with respect, actions of the white megadeus has sunk any pretensions the Paradigm Corporation has for responsibility," Roger's voice sounded bored, almost tired. "Besides, I'm not interested in that. I want all of his notes on android research."
"Why?" Heller asked. "Going to build yourself a robot assistant?"
"There's no need," Roger shook his head and nodded at the silent girl at the piano. "R Dorothy Wayneright is my assistant. However, I would like a copy of her blueprints to ease in repairs and maintenance for her."
Four pairs of eyes turned to scrutinize the pale girl at the piano.
"As Wayneright's only heir, technically his notes are her legal property anyway," Roger added. "She has the right to know how to take care of herself. And anyway, I think the Paradigm Corporation owes her. Heck, you guys owe the entire city."
"What do you mean?" Stoker asked in indignation.
"Gentlemen, don't play dumb," Roger's eyes became predatory. "Everybody knows or can figure out where all of their problems come from. Paradigm has turned on them. You've betrayed the entire city."
All of the board members protested then. Roger let them go on for a moment before putting his hand up. "That's what everyone believes," he smiled with false warmth. "Now we have to convince the people otherwise."
One by one, the angry board members returned to their seats.
"If you think that was bad let me go on," Roger smirked. "There are rumors that Alex Rosewater worked with members of the subversive group calling themselves the Union to assassinate the senators and founders of the city. That allowed Alex to replace all of his father's men with his own supporters. Now just put yourself in Alex's shoes for a moment. He was a narrow minded, power hungry megalomaniac. There was only room for one leader, one god in Alex's selfish little world."
Roger paused and put his hand to his chin in an exaggerated act of deep thought. "Now what kind of people would he choose to help him run his kingdom? Assertive leadership types who could show initiative and take charge during a crisis? I doubt it. Those would be the last type of people he would want in his organization. The only voice that should be heard should be Alex's. No, I think he would choose a bunch of spineless yes-men to run things for him. That way he wouldn't have to worry about any of them getting ambitions or scruples that would get in the way."
"Now wait a moment…" Erskine protested.
"Yes," Roger nodded as if he hadn't heard him. "I think that's exactly the kind of people he'd fill his board with. Alex was an autocrat, in his mind only one person needed to be a leader. I'll bet with him out, no one has the guts needed to take the reins and make a decision. I'll bet that's exactly the problem. Anyone who displays leadership is a danger, and could lead a rebellion against you."
"Now who do you think you are?" Violet Web sputtered.
"I'm just explaining the way things look like to the man in the street," Roger apologized falsely. "It's just the way things look from his narrow ignorant little view."
Neither Violet Web, nor the other members of the board seemed convinced.
"Now, let's just say for a moment, that I got in front of a podium and explained things to the masses," Roger proposed. "What if I wasn't strung up by the neck or tarred and feathered? What if somehow I actually succeeded? What would that mean?"
The negotiator got no reply but icy glares.
"It would be proof I was a good enough leader to pose a danger to you," Roger continued. "It would be proof that I had the ability to lead a revolt and attempt to depose of the paranoid spineless executives that Alex Rosewater left in minding the store."
On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:
Next: An Offer You Can't Refuse
