New Olympus Building overlooked an ersatz Roman piazza into which people poured from the surrounding offices at lunchtime. Some people strolled in groups or pairs, some walked purposefully alone, hurrying to commune with secret vices that would be interpreted by colleagues and managers as signs of weakness but were in fact an act of reverence to their individuality.
"Perrier water please, with a twist of lemon, and..." somebody would look round furtively before completing the request, "put a large gin in it too, please."
Another would scrawl on a slip of thin paper '£20 win - The Optimist - 3:20: Newmarket,' handing the bet, with the stake money to a disinterested cashier. Others hung around the newspaper kiosk scrutinising Computer Magazines or Trade journals until they were sure nobody could hear, then they would nervously ask the proprietor for copies of 'Big Ones' and 'Fetish', pushing their purchases into a briefcase before moving on. All human life was there, all of it hissing in a pressure cooker with a faulty seal.
It was onto the little dramas being played in this piazza that Corin Dreckmeyer looked as he tried to understand his conversation with an aide of the President and CEO.
Having dutifully called the Corporate Headquarters in Ohio at eleven thirty GMT, Corin had listened to a recorded message from the President and CEO, extolling the virtues of panglostone, a new mood adjusting drug, then he was connected to an aide with whom he was not acquainted.
"The Marketing Strategy in the UK is really governed by the structure of the healthcare industry," Dreckmeyer began but was cut short by an aggressive voice.
"Healthcare Industry my ass. Hell, Dreckmeyer, didn't you listen to the message. Panglostone is a universal mood adjusting drug. It ain't for doctors to give out like dime bags. The market is not healthcare, it is law enforcement agencies, the military, governments."
"Well, the government will have to license it of course but...."
"License it? All they have to do is put it in the fucking water supply."
"You mean give it to everybody, without telling them. I don't think European Governments will...."
"You let us worry about European Governments. Your job is the UK. We got a special relationship there. Your guy will do what he is told. Besides, panglostone is cost effective. Empty prisons. No anti - social behaviour. Hardly any alcohol and drug abuse. Your guy over there will love it because the little people will feel safe and if the little people feel safe that means votes for the government."
As the conversation had gone on Dreckmeyer began to understand the elegance of the plan. New Olympus Pharmaceuticals had, from the days when it had been the Mid - West Drug Co. traded on peoples sense of failure. Its early advertising had featured a run down clerk who would have coped much better if he had taken sleepsound pills, thus enabling himself to face each new day well rested. A few years later a skinny blond youth was chased repeatedly from a beach by a dark haired swathy, glowering bully. After taking a course of Dr. Charlotte Ann's muscle tonic the newly muscle bound blond boy would chase off his olive skinned rival as a clean cut, fair haired girl simpere "Oh Chuck, you're my hero."
Such excesses were curbed by the civil rights and consumer protection campaigns but New Olympus changed its name and continued to market a pill for every problem. New Olympus had always made a lot of noise about its commitment to fighting the drug culture in American cities and by doing so it had endeared itself to the political establishment. Its corporate hall of fame was filled with consummate politicians and incompetent scientists.
The thrust of all New Olympus marketing had been to encourage people to dwell on their inadequacies, to become self regarding and to constantly compare themselves with their peers and to seek easy, chemical answers to the questions raised rather than searching for simple truths. And now New Olympus Pharmacutical Corp. would market the most simple truth of all.
Dreckmeyer had initially been thrown by the idea of putting mood adjusting drugs in the public water supply but he knew better than to say so and as the conversation had gone on he realised that the idea was not a bad one and that he would have no trouble buying in to it.. After all, he never drank water from the public supply. The stuff was recycled a few times. There was a joke that all water that came out of the tap had been passed by Heath Department officials. It was only a joke, but nobody he knew drank public water. They all preferred to buy bottled water from some mountain spa. Did nobody realise sheep piss too? It was not as if choice was being taken away from people who mattered. A person could drink free, drug adulterated water or they could buy sheep - piss. And how much did it cost to buy drinking water. Two pounds a day? Three dollars. Only losers could not afford that and though panglostone could not make them winners it could help them cope with being losers. The rest had the choice.
The president's aide was glad that Dreckmeyer readily accepted the marketing strategy for panglostone. He could move on to his main concern which was that a Senior Vice President in the UK was worrying Corporate intelligence.
"The President likes committed Christians. They are upholders of moral values that this company subscribes to, moral values that mean a lot to middle America and to middle England. But the President does not like our people to get involved with wacky fundamentalist cults."
Dreckmeyer defended his executive. He was playing corporate politics. It would not look good if he abandoned Jonson too easily. The people at Headquarters might ask why he had retained a man whose faith he had no faith in. "Jonson is a good man. He is intelligent and he is creative. A problem solver. It's easy to get drawn into these cults. Perhaps a little therapy might help."
The President's aide was not sympathetic. "He may be but the corporation is everything. Good men are dangerous. Creative ones more so. People like him are apt to think for themselves. And this organization does not want executives who think for themselves, they only rock the boat. A good executive is one to whom the corporation is everything. Mediocre people make good executives. People who know how to do what they are told without question. Creative people who find God are not what this corporation needs. Our intelligence suggests that Jonson is in too deep for therapy already. His cult has some controversial views. The president does not like controversial views. Middle America and Middle England, our customers, do not like controversial views."
"What kind of controversial views?"
"The leader of the cult has said that people who take tranks are defying the will of God. The leader says if God wants you to be miserable and depressed then you better be goddam miserable and depressed. He also says Pharmecutical manufacturers are profiteering in the third world. If the tabloid press get hold of that just when we are launching Panglostone it is going to make us look like a bunch of jerks. We decided you better let Jonson go."
Dreckmeyer recognised that he was being told he had defended his man sufficiently. "Jeez, I didn't know his problem was that bad. I'll handle it."
Now, looking down on the piazza that was filling with the lunchtime crowd, Dreckmeyer knew what he had to do. He walked through to the big room that had been prepared to take the meeting due to begin in an hour, at one p.m, inspected all the facilities and called Fiona. "Have the contractors send a Defen technician. I may need somebody in the boardroom during the meeting."
Greenteeth Labyrinth
The New Olympians - part 3 of 4
by Ian Thorpe