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Monday, August 7, 2084

Bart Faltzgraf didn’t care much for this city, but he relished walking into someone else’s office and imposing his will. Cedar Rapids, Iowa had never been a tourist destination, but it was as big as American cities got anymore. It was a manufacturing hub, and used to be home to some mighty corporations.

Corporations weren’t a viable business model anymore, but Faltzgraf aimed to rectify that. He and his robot bodyguards strode through the Collins Road Maker Complex. The campus was once the city’s largest single employer. But now it housed dozens of smaller businesses. Faltzgraf’s business partners each ran their own workshops here, but someday they would own the whole place. He glanced at a machine that assembled drones. It worked automatically, its mechanical arms putting together the parts that the customer had selected online. In less than a minute, a single bespoke aerial drone was completed, without human hands touching it. Custom products sold for more than mass-produced ones, so the business’ human owner made healthy margins.

That owner, one of only six human members of the firm, watched the machine alongside his engineer. They made eye contact with Faltzgraf and offered stone-faced nods. Pricks. He could have made fabulous deals for them, but they decided to be a small-time regional shop. Too many businesses had that mindset. Fine, all the easier to scoop them up, once he had the leverage.

Faltzgraf and his guards went by two other maker firms, one that built hover scooters, and one that made restaurant equipment. Then he reached his destination, his associate’s business that designed and made androids. Most robots in the country were obvious machines, but about 25% were lifelike androids that looked human. When Faltzgraf was a kid, the first independently mobile androids were chintzy dummies with jerky movements, but today they were almost perfect. The only parts that looked different from real humans were their eyes.

They walked through the door. This business was walled off from the others to hide the androids’ nakedness. But even the new construction happened in the deeper rooms. Faltzgraf admired his partner’s latest works, sitting motionless on benches, wearing simple skintight clothing. Most were designed to look like attractive young men and women. Human beings found it easier to command youthful looking androids, rather than ones with older appearances. Despite androids being ageless, humans wanted to believe they had seniority over them.

“Bart, I wasn’t expecting you,” came a startled man’s voice four meters away.

“No, you weren’t, Tom. But you know how much I love in person meetings. You wouldn’t deny me, would you?” Faltzgraf was smiling, but his tone made the last part a statement, not a question. “Let’s go into your office.”

Outside the android workshop, Irving Everett rushed up to Margaret Copeland, the manager of the restaurant machine business.

“Did you see Bart Faltzgraf come by? I saw him on my surveillance monitor,” asked Everett.

“Oh yeah. He’s a long way from Colorado. What could be so important that he comes here?”

“He has a second house here in town. We’ve been planning something for a while, but he wasn’t supposed to be here until two weeks.”

“I follow him on SquawkHub. I used to think he’s so business savvy, but now he makes me nervous,” said Margaret.

“Be careful what you say about him, you never know who his flying monkeys are,” cautioned Everett. “He’s made lots of sales for Tom and me, and that’s how he got his hooks in.”

Margaret inhaled sharply. Tom Broderick made exquisite androids, and he would sell some to the same restaurants her company sold kitchen machinery to. “To think Bart offered to be our sales agent. Frankie does well enough herself.” She looked toward Tom’s business entrance. “What are they talking about?”

“It’s best if you keep your distance, Maggie. Don’t worry about Tom and me. We’re not as dependent on Bart as he wants us to be.” Everett stepped back and took a deep breath. “I’m going to give him some support. Talk to you later.” He walked to Tom’s entrance and went in, closing the door behind him.

Margaret counted her blessings, and returned to her own workspace. Forty minutes later, Faltzgraf came out of Tom Broderick’s shop, smiling like he had just beaten the campaign mode of a first person shooter.