Free The Artificial Mirage by T. Warwick Page A

swiveled his chair to face him as he entered the conference room.
    “Sorry, Mr. Cameron.”
    “Well, it’s your salary.”
    “Oh, please. No, Mr. Cameron. My mother! She sick.”
    “Look, I told y’all time and time again how important it is to be on time. And if you’re not quiet right now, you’re gonna be taken off the crew. Understand?”
    Salem thought for a moment. “OK, Mr. Cameron. I quiet.”
    “Get out,” Cameron said.
    “You…” Salem snarled as he looked at the team before slinking out the door, leaving a trail of whimpers.
    “Why do they always have to touch each other?” Cameron mused as he observed the team of ten Saudis walking along the pipeline holding hands. “A robot could be zooming along on a fixed line checking for leaks faster and more efficiently.” But this wasn’t about efficiency; it was about handing out as many jobs as possible. It was just part of the price of doing business. The Chinese couldn’t carpet bomb an infinite desert, but they could create jobs and make occasional concessions and keep the oil flowing.
    The Chinese were taking half of the profits of every new wildcat and exploration well within their allotted zone. The small submarine drones they used probably helped the most. They were about the size of a football and very fast and agile.
    Cameron had never even seen any of the drones. They were another piece of the puzzle of information about the supply of oil. Sure, the drones could find deposits that had been missed, but the overall supply was diminishing. A man who worked for a turbine manufacturer had told him that they were pumping twice as much water into the old wells to get just half the output they were getting only a few years ago.
    Lunch was the usual lamb kabsa on a mountain of rice. When he approached his usual table in the cafeteria, he found that it was occupied by Ali and six Sudanese men with brand-new SSOC uniforms who were just finishingeating. Just as he sat down and was about to introduce himself, their phones went off simultaneously, blaring the call to prayer.
    “So, introduce your friends, Ali,” Cameron said without taking notice of the elevating volume of different versions of the call to prayer from phones throughout the cafeteria. “Y’all just got here?”
    “Yes, we arrived just last week,” the one sitting directly across from him responded as they all nodded at one another.
    “Do you know which zone you’re in?”
    “We are all in Zone G, I believe.”
    “What are your jobs?”
    “The same as you, I am sure. We are babysitters.”
    Everyone laughed.
    “Yeah, just making sure nobody gets blown up,” Cameron said.
    “We are having party tonight. You should join us,” Ali said.
    “Sounds good, Ali,” Cameron said as he assiduously wiped off the oil of the kabsa rice from his right hand with a napkin.

10
    C ameron dragged the mapped coordinates for Ali’s new apartment from the folder he had flicked him across the windshield HUD to the car’s navigation program. The streets of Abqaiq were stagnant without traffic. He watched a lone shawarma wrapper scuttle across the street before starting the car. The buildings were monotonous rows of concrete facades that took on a gray hue in the evening. Balconies protruded out here and there, and he could see light peering out from behind the glossy brown sheet metal mounted on top of them to hide the appearance of any women that might be inside. He arrived in front of Ali’s building; an arrow on the windshield indicated its exact location. There was a loud creaking of the metal gate downstairs as he was let in by a young boy in a wrinkled thobe that looked more like a nightgown.
    “Ah! I see you met my son,” Ali said as he entered the small concrete courtyard.
    “Yeah, I guess so,” Cameron replied.
    “Please, come in. Our neighbors just arrived here, too. So, we decide to have party here. My flat not quite ready yet.”
    Cameron noticed that he seemed nervous and