The Giant

“We’ve built it, now what do we do with it?” Research and Redevelopment Rehabilitator One asked the obvious question. The staff and other Researchers hoped that someone would be able to answer a question of such vast importance.

“Well, right off the bat, I suggest we keep feeding it.” Reginald suggested with a bit of froth dripping from his chin. “You can’t just give something away after such effort has gone into it for so many years. “

“I concur.” Reggie quickly added (a pet name since he wasn’t the only Reginald in the department. If fact, there were several with the same name.) The team of RRR One looked at Reggie and should have noticed that same bit of drool glistening on his upper lip as well. More politically correct, and as one seeking to be a little higher in the hierarchy, he quickly wiped his face of the telling sign of his excitement.

Reggie wasn’t content with his standing by any means. Being slightly less than senior to Reginald, he still sought to overcome the name superiority of the other. He had worked hard within the corporation, kept his nose clean (in the public news world anyway), and made every effort to sustain and advance the corporate entity. It irked him that he didn’t have to most respectful name in the room, or in this division.

“What do you say Mr. Reginald?” he asked the Chief of the RRR as he walked through the door. Even Mr. Reginald’s brother (Reginald) didn’t have a chance to introduce him to the room. Reggie had positioned himself intentionally so that he would observe the door opening, knowing who was about to enter. He had sent the memo to Mr. Reginald after all. He didn’t have the blood ties to Mr. Reginald, but he was surely the most ruthless and the quickest of the bunch when the corporate standing was considered.

Mr. Reginald strode in with his own hierarchy. He was his own department after all. Long ago he had established his personal membership gang that would serve him and him alone. He was the best at determining the movements within the structure of the corporation, and hired the very best he could buy, blackmail, or subvert. With their pay structure, even those hesitant or tricked into his department were thrilled to serve him now without hesitation. The only escape from his clutches was to cease to exist. This did happen, occasionally.

“The pay was the way.” was his personal moniker, one that he instilled in every one of his department from day one. It was never, ever altered or abated and never would be as long as he was atop the money pile. Not even the government could knock him from his perch, he had a separate division just to eliminate this possibility. As with his personal department, his nest of government lobbyists were the highest paid of all of their ilk. Not much higher, which would make it a waste of good money, but always higher than those of the next corporation right on his heels.

The room was silent as Mr. Reginald stopped in the middle of the room. Placement was everything, and all around his they scrambled to get out of his way, his proffered position, but to remain in his view at all times. To be overlooked for an instant could have serious consequences in the ranking and pay scales.

Mr. Reginald settled into his position, looked around the lab as expected before  making  his intelligent and informed proclamation. Many breathes were held as he began to speak. Reginald thought that perhaps this was the true origination of the term for the rich, “Blue Bloods”. It certainly described many faces in the room. The exception was Reggie. His confidence superseded subservience. At least he thought so.

“What we have created here will be the model for many years to come certainly, and hopefully for the continued existence of all future configurations of our corporation. It’s structure will withstand the onslaught of all other corporations, political variances that it will determine from here on in, depressions and repressions of the general public, and even the incessant rising of Unions and other such bothersome infestations.” He proclaimed this in his own honor, his own self-esteem, and absolutely in his own self-interest.

He expanded his chest greatly, flexing the fabric of his suit coat, one made of material so expensive and bullet proof that even the military wasn’t likely to see it for many, many years, if ever. They were not an essential department any longer anyway. None of his relatives would ever see any action in a war zone, that was certain. His smile was as wide as the vault door on his petty cash drawer as he bragged.

“We have more money than God Himself!” he shouted in the small room, a planned expression of corporate binding. Only the resultant clapping was louder and echoed more than his voice had. While they sweated in their effort to impress His Majesty Reginald with the speed of their clapping hands, all eyes were on his face to determine the exact second to stop. A single hand clap sounded after the din had quit within a hair’s breadth of the rest of the clapping.

There was no need for anyone to turn around to recognize it. His hand clapping was as well-known as was everyone else’s in the room. Such things had to be known, as they say, “Know your enemy better than your friends.” It was another motto never forgotten. Wives never stood a chance against this rule, not even faring in the top ten of importance within the corporate structure. Chances were that the late clapper would not likely ever attend a room with Mr. Reginald’s presence again.

“Mr. Reginald?” Reggie asked when the required silence had been observed. “What about the influences and hazards of the foreign markets?” Mr. Reginald cringed internally, but didn’t show anything outside. His granite face hid anything he ever thought until it had been debated internally by him. It was the only thing he hadn’t figured out how to buy and control. The foreigners had so far rebuffed his efforts at a label that few knew he even had interest in. Reggie knew this and had stuck a thin dagger into Mr. Reginald’s armor.

He wanted to have the title of “Sir” placed before his name. Unfortunately for him, the entity that held the power to enact this title was not a political or governmental body. It was impossible to buy the royalty without buying the whole country. He had toyed with buying it of course, but even his wealth and power had to have some part of it held back for future use.

Reggie knew this of course. Even Mr. Reginald didn’t know that Reggie was first in line to yield the power that was presently held by him. His system of structures within structures were built with the same pattern that Mr. Reginald had established. In many cases they ran parallel to his structure, a symbiotic existence if there ever was one. It depended on keeping itself unknown to the host, and certainly never interfered with its functioning. Reggie smiled so slightly that had an insect crawled on his lip, he wouldn’t have noticed the motion.

Reggie knew that the monster that had been created was his. Mr. Reginald was under different beliefs of course. Any awareness by Mr. Reginald and the Monster would not come to life. Reggie held the trigger, and it existed in his secret group working in the very heart of Mr. Reginald’s dismay. He had bought his way into the unimpressionable royalty over many years. Even before he had changed his name to Reginald and changed the facts of his own history so that it could never be discovered. He knew the uses and strength of power as only Mr. Reginald knew.

“The Corporate structure’s ability to subvert is at its highest power ever. Only this new creation will improve on the imperial structure of the corporation. Nothing else will be able to resist of powers of directed consumerism. Even wars are minimally distracting, but so profitable that as we wait them out, we will be so much further ahead in the money game that it will only yield more dividends for us.” He stopped, trying to keep from being to expansive. He knew that everything said had consequences no matter how inane it seemed at the time of its speaking.

Sadly language was never something that could be controlled. There were too many perpetrators of its use that didn’t follow corporate guidelines and restrictions. It changed too quickly to be grasped; mutated as quickly as a word was banned or put into the lexicon of corporate propaganda. Nothing, not even the corporation could control every single mind all the time, but it was working on it.

“Oh, Reggie.” He spoke after the usual pause between thought changes. “What have you decided to name your creation?” he asked out of complete ignorance. The symbiosis of the two structures had held their powerful walls together and there had been no leak from Reggie’s building into Mr. Reginald’s. Reggie had used Mr. Reginald’s own strength of secrecy against his own. They didn’t even realize that they were being blinded rather than blinding Reggie’s corporation. But it was time to reveal its intention, according to Reggie’s timetable.

“Yes Sir. You are the first to know.” He guided Mr. Reginald’s ego subtly and carefully as always.

“I will call it Mr. Judge Reginald.” He spoke clearly and succinctly. There was no more to add. It spoke of its intention to finish the job of subverting the Judicial system to the corporate use, yet maintained its founding and growth  in the name of Reginald. Nothing more could be said of it, and nothing more would be.

Mr. Reginald simply nodded his head and turned to exit the room. Already he was thinking of strategies to deal with the super intelligence of Reggie. Already he was too late.

Barbara Blackcinder


About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a need for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and mine when you read those from me.
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2 Responses to The Giant

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  2. This one is Right-Out-There but has its layers of mystery

    Will it continue??

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