Free Idempotency by Joshua Wright

level of SolipstiCorp’s ten-story office building. Dylan was not part of the group.
    Dylan rode the magLift up to the fifteenth floor. The doors opened and he walked straight into his office, nodding fewer hellos than usual to his colleagues. He fiddled on the SolipstiCorp corpNet for about twenty minutes until he saw Frank come out of the magLift. Apparently Frank didn’t get much further in conversation with Korak than I did , he thought. Without hesitation, Dylan stood and walked five paces behind Frank and, catching the door before Frank was able to close it, he plopped down on a chair in Frank’s office. Frank sighed, then sat down in his high-backed black office chair, a full window behind him and all-white walls around him. The sun glinted off his bald head. Dylan had correctly guessed that Frank was part of the welcoming committee, but nothing more. He drew a breath, intending to speak, but Frank beat him to the punch.
    “Dylan, buddy, sorry to have to send you on that fucking errand,” Frank bellowed. He was focused on his BUI display, and did not look up toward Dylan.
    “C’mon Franklin, what the hell was that about? Who is that guy?”  Dylan asked playfully.
    “Can’t tell you that, pal. You know the rules. Lawyers, NDAs, yada, yada, ob-la-di, ob-la-da.” Frank’s hands waved wildly in front of him, motioning to some apparently important items that he was working on via the private BUI display hovering in front of him.
    Dylan threw his legs on top of Frank’s desk, knowing it would piss him off. “They haven’t told you anything either then, huh?“
    “Not a goddam thing, buddy,” Frank stated matter-of-factly.
    “Dammit, Frank—why the hell are we hosting an anonymous biz-dev guy who works with governments? This makes no sense. The government doesn’t govern a damn thing anymore—they don’t even have any money. They’re beyond bankrupt!” Dylan stood and removed his jacket, then slumped back into the comfortable horseshoe-shaped blue cloth chair opposite the desk. Frank remained focused on his BUI. Dylan continued his thought: “Aren’t there bigger fish to fry? Makes no sense at all.”
    “No fucking sense,” Frank parroted.
    “Is he actually working with the government or for it? Why would the government even have a biz-dev guy?”
    “Why the fuck would they? These are great questions, Dylster. Keep ’em coming.”
    “How are you ahead of me on the corporate ladder, Frank? What the hell do you even do here?”  Dylan smiled.
    “What do I do here? Good fucking questions, my man.”
    “Frank!” Dylan became desperate. “Will you look at me for just thirty seconds?”
    Frank clamped his eyes shut tightly, brought his left hand up to his left ear to click off his BUI, then reopened his eyes, swiveled his head, and locked onto Dylan’s gaze. Frank’s entire demeanor seemed to slow down by a factor of three. Finally, he slowly spoke. “What’s on that testicle-sized mind of yours, Dylan?”
    “Thank you, Frank." Dylan sounded exasperated, but he continued: ”Look, I need to get out of town this weekend. I realize I need to be on call for the EGC account, and the SoCalCom account for that matter, but I need a break." Having delivered his message, he now slouched back in his seat.
    Frank nodded slowly as he spoke, “Okay. Done. Take whatever time you need. I’ll cover for you if anything comes up. That it?”
    “No." Dylan hesitated. “This Searle guy, you really know nothing about him?”
    Frank leaned back in his minimal, black ergonomic office chair and exhaled. “Nope. I heard Jack mentioning something to Patricia about some deal the Mexican government is facilitating or mediating, or something like that, for some tertiary corp. That made no fucking sense to me. Why the fuck a corp would need—shit, want —the Mexican government helping them with anything is beyond me. I pressed Jack on it a little and he gave me some CEO jargon. Basically the jargon translated to