This was all a diversion anyway, a way to pass the time until they could squeeze some information from Natch about what was going on. He had promised to explain everything in a fiefcorp meeting at seven o'clock. But by the time eight-thirty rolled around with no sign of Natch, the three apprentices decided their fiefcorp master wasn't coming. The same thing had been going on for a week. Horvil tried to get in touch with Serr Vigal, but the neural programmer had predictably prived himself to incoming communication, probably off fundraising. So Horvil and Jara spent the next few hours in Jara's apartment listening to Merri explain what little she knew about the Phoenix Project. The three tossed improbable theories back and forth, and got nowhere. Eventually, Merri decided to cut her connection so she could spend some time tending to her companion Bonneth, who was bed-ridden with another one of her crippling fevers.
Jara was ready to kick Horvil out and get some sleep, when she felt an incoming multi request.
Natch appeared in the room, looking as bothered and beautiful as always. He was already pacing the length of the room before he had completely emerged from the haze of multivoid. "Horv, I'm going to need you to interview some new engineers and programmers," he said, as if they had been discussing the topic for hours.
"Are we expanding?" asked Horvil.
"What does it look like?"
Horvil shot a glib look at Jara. "How many do we need?"
"I don't know," replied Natch without missing a beat. "Two. Five. Ten if they're stupid."
The engineer stood with arms akimbo and sucked in his stomach as if girding for battle. "I hear and obey, brave commander," he said, and vanished.
Natch swiveled on the ball of his left foot and stopped directly in front of Jara. The analyst felt the familiar hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach as the entrepreneur locked eyes with her. Sapphires, she thought. "And you," said Natch in a feathery voice. "Why don't you tag along with Merri. She's meeting with Robby Robby to get him up to speed on how we do things around here."
Jara gulped. "Who's Robby Robby?"
"Our new channeling partner. He's a bit of a character, but he's got a staff that could sell you the clothes on your back while you're still wearing them."
The analyst nodded. Her own clothes seemed uncomfortably tight and constricting at the moment. "All right, I'll do that." Then, seeing that Natch was about to cut his multi connection, asked: "So what do you think-violets or daisies?" She tilted her head towards the holographic arch that the fiefcorp master had plowed straight through several times now.
Natch turned and studied the flower arrangement for a moment. "I'd say daisies," he announced, and then severed his multi projection without another word.
Jara cancelled the violets and ordered daisies instead.
Natch's thought processes had always been a mystery to Jara, but she soon began to wonder if he was losing his grip on reality. That night, he went on a titanic shopping spree. Natch bought everyone in the fiefcorp a new workbench with expanded MindSpace capabilities and the fanciest set of bio/logic programming bars on the market. He let Horvil loose on the Data Sea to pick out the best code optimization routines and analysis algorithms. He set up a permanent account at the Surina Enterprise Facility so he could commandeer an office or a conference room at a moment's notice.
Where he got the money for all this, nobody knew. Jara was intimately familiar with the fiefcorp's Vault accounts, and she knew they couldn't withstand this kind of pummeling. True, the jump to number one on Primo's had provided them a good financial cushion. But Natch's reckless spending would soon put them into bankruptcy.
Somehow this prospect cheered Jara up.
So instead of protesting, Jara did as she was told. Over the next few days, she accompanied Merri to several meetings with the channeler Robby Robby. If anything, the man was even more insipid than Natch's description. He dressed in whatever ludicrous fashion the high society brats were wearing at the time-this week it was kimono pants and open-collared silk shirts-and went through programmable accents like other people went through socks. The cost of these silly peccadilloes went on the tab of the Natch Personal Programming Fiefcorp, of course.
Jara soon discovered what made Robby Robby so valuable, however: He was completely unperturbed by the idea of selling a mystery product. "What do you think my channelers do every day?" he said, walking them through a room of baby-faced salespeople holding ConfidentialWhisper conversations from their desks. There were perhaps twenty in all, each impeccably dressed and relentlessly cheerful. "Selling isn't about the product you're offering, Lady Merri. It's about what the customer wants." Every time Robby Robby called her Lady Merri, Jara wanted to give him a swift kick in the knees. But though she was a Creed Objectivv devotee, Merri got along with the slick salesman just fine.
Meanwhile, Horvil worked feverishly through the weekend to find capable engineering candidates who would fit Natch's high standards. He managed to round up a dozen applicants. All had the credentials to work in the top fiefcorps, and all were eager to sign on, which was no small accomplishment in such a tight labor market. But Natch found fault with every one of them. He even managed to send a top-flight engineer from the Deuteron Fiefcorp fleeing an interview in tears.
Finally, an exasperated Horvil brought in his nineteen-year-old cousin Benyamin for an interview. Horvil meant it as something of a joke. Ben's only real-world experience was an apprenticeship managing a floor of assembly-line coders, and he was the youngest son of Horvil's dreaded Aunt Berilla to boot. But to everyone's surprise, Natch made the boy an apprenticeship offer on the spot. Benyamin readily accepted.
"I don't get it," Jara told Horvil after he had relayed the story to her. "No offense, Horv, but Natch has been turning away everyone. How did Benyamin convince that bastard to hire a nineteen-year-old kid with no experience?"
Horvil shrugged. "I dunno."
"So how many hours was Natch grilling him?"
"Less than one. Ben says that Natch listened to his pitch without saying a word, and then asked him just one question. You're not going to go crying to your mother the first time I keep you up three days in a row, are you?"
The outside world did not come to a standstill while the fiefcorp beefed up its operations. In the midst of all the commotion, Pierre Loget released a bevy of upgrades on the Data Sea that sent his PulCorp rocketing to the top of Primo's. Billy Sterno and Lucas Sentinel quickly followed suit. For a couple of hours, the Patel Brothers sank as low as number four before they managed to pump a few more bio/logic programs into the system and reclaim the top spot.
Natch mysteriously shrugged the whole thing off and seemed content to sit in fourth place for the time being. He spent all his time reading the latest news about the Prime Committee and the Defense and Wellness Council. Jara would multi over to his apartment to find him meditating to the libertarian ravings of politician Khann Frejohr. The craggy face of High Executive Borda stared back at her from every window. When the story broke about a battalion of Council officers bivouacking in China, Natch was glued to a map of the Orient for hours.
Jara felt like a spectator in a game she didn't understand, played by titans on a board she could not see. At least the days were passing quickly now, bringing the elusive end of her apprenticeship contract closer all the time.
On Monday morning, Jara awoke and slipped into her comfortable routine like an old shirt. She had barely fired up Doze-B-Gone 91c when she was assaulted by a screaming headline from Sen Sivv Sor: