A marketopia populated by the rabid people, surnamed after the companies they work for. An inane world-for-profit. Tongue-in-the-cheek market worshipping leading to perception of capital and enterprise as the pinnacle of human achievement. And don't forget your constitutional rights, fraud included.

Add to that all the nice touches. The gun of sentimental value. The Nike hype. The John guy assaulting a gal and all the way threatening to sue her for damages! Wow! Consider me a Max Barry convert!



Q

A marketopia populated by the rabid people, surnamed after the companies they work for. An inane world-for-profit. Tongue-in-the-cheek market worshipping leading to perception of capital and enterprise as the pinnacle of human achievement. And don't forget your constitutional rights, fraud included.

Add to that all the nice touches. The gun of sentimental value. The Nike hype. The John guy assaulting a gal and all the way threatening to sue her for damages! Wow! Consider me a Max Barry convert!



Q:

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Vice-President John said. “Career change can be very stressful. I read that somewhere.”

(c)

Q:

Hack was a Merchandise Distribution Officer. This meant when Nike made up a bunch of posters, or caps, or beach towels, Hack had to send them to the right place. Also, if someone called up complaining about missing posters, or caps, or beach towels, Hack had to take the call. It wasn’t as exciting as it used to be.

(c)

Q:

They were smiling at him as if he was an equal—but of course, Hack was on the wrong floor.

(c)

Q:

Then they stuck out their hands. “I’m John Nike, Guerrilla Marketing Operative, New Products.”

“And I’m John Nike, Guerrilla Marketing Vice-President, New Products,” the other suit said.

(c)

Q:

“Hack, we need someone who can make snap decisions. A fast mover.”

“Someone who can get things done. With a minimum of fucking around.”

“If that’s not your style, well… let’s forget we spoke. No harm done. You stick to Merchandising.” Vice-President John reached for the contract.

“I can sign it now,” Hack said, tightening his grip.

(c)

Q:

“Yeah.” Hack hoped he sounded confident. He didn’t really understand marketing.

(c)

Q:

“So you know what we’re going to do?”

He shook his head.

“We’re going to shoot them,” Vice-President John said. “We’re going to kill anyone who buys a pair.”

(c)

Q:

“I remember when you could always rely on those little street kids to pop a few people for the latest Nikes,” Vice-President John said. “Now people get mugged for Reeboks, for Adidas—for generics, for Christ’s sake.”

“The ghettos have no fashion sense anymore,” the other John said. “I swear, they’ll wear anything.”

(c)

Q:

“Um…” Hack said. He swallowed. “Isn’t this kind of…illegal?”

“He wants to know if it’s illegal,” the other John said, amused. “You’re a funny guy, Hack. Yes, it’s illegal, killing people without their consent, that’s very illegal.”

Vice-President John said, “But the question is: what does it cost? Even if we get found out, we burn a few million on legal fees, we get fined a few million more… bottom-line, we’re still way out in front.”

(c)

Q:

Hack sat in traffic, biting his nails. This had not been a good day. He was beginning to think that visiting the marketing floor for a cup of water was the worst mistake he’d ever made.

(c)

Q:

“Well, that’s cheaper. We can make sure we don’t take out anyone with means. For, you know, retribution. And you need ten capped, so there’s a bulk discount. We could do this for, say, one-fifty.”

(c)

Q:

Jeeps were one of the safest vehicles on the road, Buy had read; safe for people in the Jeep, anyway.

(c)

Q:

Until recently, Buy had thought that moving to a USA country was the best move he’d ever made, with the possible exception of changing his name from Jean-Paul.

(c)

Q:

“I know first aid.” Not many people did; there was too much risk of being sued.

(c)

Q:

“Nine-eleven Emergency, how can I help you?”

“I need an ambulance. Quickly, a girl has been shot at the Chadstone Wal-Mart mall.”

“Certainly, sir. Can you tell me the girl’s name?”

“Hayley. Hayley something. Please, come straight away.”

“Sir, I need to know if the victim is part of our register,” the operator said. “If she’s one of our clients, we’ll be there within a few minutes. Otherwise I’m happy to recommend—”

“I need an ambulance!” he shouted, and it was only when water splashed on his hand that he realized he had started to cry. “I’ll pay for it, I don’t care, just come!”

“Do you have a credit card, sir?”“Yes! Send someone now!”

“As soon as I confirm your ability to pay, sir. This will only take a few seconds.”He looked at the faces around him. “Someone help her. Help her!” The kid who had loaned Buy his cellular knelt down and held the jacket over the wound. A girl began stroking Hayley’s hair. Buy dragged his wallet out from his back pocket and retrieved his credit card. Hayley’s eyes were fixed on him. I promise, he told her. I promise. “I have American Express—”

“That’s fine, sir. Could you read your card number to me, please?”

“Nine seven one four, oh three—”

Two shots rang out from somewhere below them, close. The people around him shrieked and fled; only the kid stayed, crouching lower.

“—six six—”

People were screaming. Something hit the ground—or one of the Mercedes?—with a deafening boom.

“Sir? Are you there? I didn’t catch the number, sir.” “Nine seven—”

The kid put his hand over Buy’s. “Mister…I don’t think it matters.”

Hayley was no longer looking at him. Her eyes were turned upward, at the Nike Town sign, at the fluorescent lights. Her face was white.

“Oh, no,” Buy said. “No, please.”

“Sir?” the operator said. “Can you please repeat your credit card number for me, sir? Sir? Are you there? Sir? Sir?”

(c)

Q:

Hack, what you just saw was a press release. We have no intention of hunting down the people responsible, because the people responsible are us. All right?

(c)

Q:

“You want to know why Americans took over the world, Hack? Because they respect achievement. Before this was a USA country, our ideal was the working-class battler, for Christ’s sake. If Australians ruled the world, everyone would work one day a week and bitch about the pay.” He shook his head. “Then there’s the British, who thought there was something wrong with making money. No surprise they ended up kissing the colony’s ass. The Japanese, they think the pinnacle of achievement is a Government job. The Chinese are Communist, the Germans are Socialists, the Russians are broke…who does that leave?”

“Canada?”

“America,” John said. “The United fucking States of America, the country founded on free-market capitalizm. I tell you, those Founding Fathers knew their shit.”

(c)

Q:

“You mean the one time you did something nice for no reason, the person died?”

(c)

Q:

He reddened. “Well, we still need that information. It may not seem important to you, but this is a serious suit.”

She couldn’t help it: she looked at his suit.

(c)

Q:

In order to pursue the perpetrators, we need funding, yes. The Government’s budget only extends to preventing crime, not punishing it. For a retributive investigation, we can only proceed if we can obtain funding.

(c)

Q:

Hack said. “See, there’s this body in my kitchen—”

“You’re meant to call first,” the agent said. “To set up an appointment. We can’t drop everything just because you walk in.”

(c)

Q:

He smiled. Trespass was an assault against property and therefore a crime, but fraud was fine: fraud was practically a constitutional right, like free speech.

(c)

Q: