Loyal members of his court were quickly dispatched to Paris where they infiltrated the new movement and encouraged bloodshed rather than negotiations. Once the stubborn king and queen were beheaded the Management set to work romancing all the leaders of Europe and feeding their egos with the idea of a controlled democracy where their power would be ensured.
The old system of raising children with the right blood lines according to a strict regimen of the right schools, the right clothes and the right connections was opened up to include families with more moderate genes and purses. Slowly over time, these children became the new middle class that was easily manipulated into doing upper management’s bidding in exchange for a fairly comfortable life with an identifiable track. Politicians were put in place, corporations were carefully managed and army generals were groomed all over the world.
Emerging countries were thoroughly researched by diplomats whose mission was to scout out the easiest way to start a new outpost without being heavy handed and detected.
The British took it too far though and insisted on standing out in front of everything they touched, boasting that the sun never set on their empire. Something had to be done and by the early 1900’s the British arm of the Management was finally cowed into place.
As a concession to mollify the occasional protests from local chapters a certain amount of leeway became permissible so that local groups felt more autonomous as long as they didn’t stray from the main goal.
After all, even insiders don’t like to find out they are being oppressed. But those who had witnessed the lengths Management was willing to go to, however, never forgot.
However, the upper echelons were willing to go to great lengths to keep certain boundaries intact. They had found out over time just where the lines were that, when crossed, tended to lead to uprisings and the violent end to entire Management chapters.
Things sometimes became messy and had to be quietly rebuilt, which takes time. India’s new world order had taken generations to become effective and Pakistan and Vietnam were proving to be slow and difficult works in progress.
The purpose of an artificial democracy was simple, really. A certain amount of replacements were going to be needed in every generation to ensure management level positions at every level were filled with their own recruits. The projections along with an updated list of intentions were sent to local groups so that they could identify the right children. Intentions differed with the times but held the implicit idea to keep the power base right where it was as efficiently as possible with the smallest amount of risk. In exchange everyone received a modicum of the good life with very little change.
In order to protect the core, the locals only met the Management officers directly above them. No one really knew who was running things at the top but speculation and gossip always swirled around the wealthy and the famous.
If things were going well, neither side heard from each other beyond the regular missives and everyone was relatively happy.
But lately people he had never met but he was smart enough to fear had heard of Richard and his management style and they weren’t very happy. An associate had been dispatched to help Richard lead the meeting and bring everyone back into line. She was due to arrive at any minute.
“Richard Bach?”
Richard startled only slightly and turned to see his senior vice president, Robin Spingler striding toward him. Normally, Richard had no time for women. He saw them more as accessories than fully realized human beings but Robin’s large frame and cold demeanor made it easier for him to make an exception.
Robin was wearing a skirt and jacket similar in style to most of the women in the meeting but on her tall frame it appeared to be more of a costume.
“Robin, so glad you could make it.”
“Don’t be glib, Richard. It doesn’t look good on you, and we all know how much illusions matter to you. Are your people here?”
“Yes, everyone is assembled and breathlessly awaiting your words.”
Robin stopped abruptly at the door and turned back to Richard, leaning in close to his face.
“Everyone is expendable, dear boy,” she whispered coldly. “Me, you, every person in that room. You don’t have some invisible aura protecting you. People are dying all around you and its getting noticed. Your work is even inspiring the opposition to take note and we don’t like that. Don’t become such a pain in my ass that I find it easier to make you the last incident in this unfortunate turn of events. At the very least I’d find it necessary to remind you much like the last time you decided to start making decisions on your own.” She slapped her hands together for emphasis.
Richard’s smile froze into place and he found it difficult to take a deep breath. He felt the sting of the bamboo whip Robin had once wielded with precision against his back raising large, red welts. It had taken a week before he could sit back against a chair.