Playing The Long Game

They hadn't received any news from the Department of Commerce, but the other Companionship firms had.

"Similar issue, about licence renewal. This is so wrong since the Council's written consent stated that the licence for non-essential businesses was valid for a lifetime. They only need to audit regularly, but there's nothing mentioning document resubmission, paying the same fee, and so on." If Val's glare could invoke the lightning, the lightning rod on top of the Pixel building would be activated any moment now.

Not every boat, every company, looked the same in sailing the pandemic. She trusted the Council to do their job. But time and again the Council interfered with how she, and other similar businesses, run their businesses. So she would seek clarification from her fellow business owners. She still refrained her team from asking too many questions to any departments.

Gema came to the office moments later since he was back from a client's appointment. "The answer you guys are looking for is, forgery."

Huh? What forgery?

"The forgery of the Immune people's application for work at private businesses," Gema explained further.

"Wait, hold on, so private business is equal to non-essential business now? How is it even logical?" Stephanie enquired. The Council blanketed all non-Council-owned businesses as non-essential and used this stratagem to nip those companies' growth in the bud, how laughable. If that was true, Stephanie wouldn't stay idle. She would think of a way.

"More or less. But I heard other companies such as Visit are not required to reintegrate an ex-inmate."

"Yeah, because how many ex-inmates can be released in a year for the Department of Commerce to summon each Companionship company?" Stephanie sulked.

She continued, "The forgery can be detected easily, can't it? Who on earth has the galls to falsify the Immune stamps on the ID cards, huh? Do you think that this requirement is just made up?" She caught herself at her words. For someone being so careful, when did she start second-guessing the regulation? After Lila's incident? Or the doubt had actually taken root long before everything?

Val came back with his criticising energy and stated bluntly, "It didn't make sense at all, did it? Why did the government want the companies that provide Companions to obtain the hundred per cent Immune workers certification? It was as if they worked in the shadow illegally and that was only possible when the pigs flew. With such heavy control being imposed, nobody could sneak in or out as a Protected person undetected, especially at night."

"Yeah, what for? Why do they even—"

But Stephanie didn't follow Gema's train of thoughts as hers took over, stating the obvious loophole that came as the next logical conclusion.

"The day."

"Huh?"

"The day, Gem," she rushed her explanation with excitement alone. Sometimes it felt good to think about something that nobody could assure yet. The thrill of the investigation and the lick of danger by assuming about a powerful entity.

She droned on, "You know that the most genius way to rebel is to hide the Protected Lawless in plain sight. And due to the fact that the choppers or drones are not that advanced, they can't map the faces or movements they detect in public places with the person's status yet. They can shoot at will like in a public unrest situation. But when people just go out and about, they won't risk killing an Immune employee because every single Immune matters for the economy."

Her brain overflowed with words and connected ideas like rivers in the world and their oceans. "Every single system has a loophole, right, Gem? You ever told me that, when I harangued you about login security and all and you mentioned those risks we could take because our first app release served just as a proof of concept. And this big system here, the government's way to ID the Protected and the Immune on the streets, isn't by any means flawless, so they want more precautions in place. Since not many businesses operate without local Councils' stock, they vehemently want this certification done for Companions business."

Gema rubbed his chin while his stare still directed at the blue handkerchief he had thrown on the desk. The colour of the fabric was blotched in many spots. Stephanie could make a monogram of the brand at the corner of it, tinted with faded gold ink.

"That's not the only purpose, I think." Val turned his laptop around to show the screen to his colleague. A pie chart stood proud, followed by a series of bars, with the legend of the number of workforces split by person's status told Stephanie enough what he wanted to say.

"Inhibiting the proliferation of Companions," she drew the conclusion. Her blood ran cold.

Seeing Stephanie still clutched the edge of their desk, Gema pressed on, "They need workers on the field. Providing Companions as a plum job—"

"I'm stopping you right there. We are by no means a plum job," she hissed at each word angrily. "If you're saying that the government thinks we are wasting talents who are supposed to work elsewhere, then they're wrong."

"That's my hypothesis, S. Chill out. Do you remember prior to all of this, many fresh grads favoured to apply for the industry trend? Like, you applied for offshore work not only because it was fancy at that time, but also because it paid well. Was a dead-end, though, you said. Much later on, people preferred the tech companies. And now, we're here, somewhat disrupting the plan of converting as many Immune people as possible to do admin tasks."

It confirmed her suspicion somehow, but this was still a weak conclusion.

She fidgeted with her clammy palms. "That's— that's a serious accusation, Gem. We shouldn't throw things like this around. We don't say these things aloud, lest it's a big gun towards us." She chewed her lower lip disapprovingly.

Gema pivoted his curiosity elsewhere. "What is the bottom line?" he asked. But Stephanie still noticed the slight tremor in his hand. It was a game they didn't know the objective of, and it felt that the Council ran the world with everyone as their chess piece.

"Visit said the PIC changed. So instead of Arijati we dealt with last time, this morning they talked to a new guy. Following the rule to the letter. All institutions with residence visitation permits have to have this Immune licence. Can't be bought with the Happiness Index's excuse." Gema uttered the word 'licence' with an expression of swallowing the rind of a grapefruit, tasted bitter in her tongue.

"Could we take it up with his higher-ups? Surely someone with greater power could help us." If the long game was to limit the Companions, surely assigning an ex-inmate—which had been fulfilled without any issue— wouldn't be the end of it. The absence of a new assignment to Prattle when the rest of the Companionship business was stormed didn't mean anything good. It could only mean Prattle was the pilot site to roll out oppressive policy.

She shook her head, her chair scratched the uncarpeted floor with a heavy screech when she pulled backwards. "We don't know the bosses. And like everything else in the world, without someone who can pull the strings, we're as good as dead. Our position is still fickle in their eyes. Let's not ruffle up more feathers. We can just wait and see, do our job, and get ready for the next wave."

"It doesn't make sense from any view, indeed. They can just gather the scanned ID card of each company's team and send them then? Surely there would be no more straightforward flow for this? The end goal is not visible yet," Val added.

"True. They have migrated almost all processes online, their online proceedings run smoothly."

"Well, there are inmates receiving execution verdicts or pardons this way," Gema stated matter-of-factly.

A ping from Stephanie's laptop surprised everyone.

"Visit replied," she moved back to her chair and scooted over to make space for Gema and Val to sit at her side of the desk. Visit team had contacted her, explaining there might be two major reasons the licence had to be renewed: Stephanie's hypothesis of ID-ing workers at day and Gema's reasoning of competing over the limited workforce. Stephanie got back to them right off the bat.

She typed the email.

For the first reason, security issue was the main problem. We can expect more policy to be poured over us that will limit our mobility. Licence renewal is one thing, other nitty-gritty details would be coming soon, I believe.

For the second reason, what's the endgame? They need more workers, that's understandable. But as to why they want to gradually absorb all the work force, we're in the dark. If I recall correctly, there's no major project that's labour intensive, apart from the usual logistics and maintaining the existing communication. Our team don't have the answers right now. Frankly, this makes us anxious.

Please advise us if you know more about this.

"Gone are the days when we thought we had a good working relationship with the rulers," Stephanie sighed.

~*~

After the tiring meeting, Stephanie spared some time to visit Mark in the hotel.

He just arrived as well, having finished the shift at a logistic hub in Bogor, a different city. He went there by the supply train, and for the trip back to Jakarta he also had to wait for the same train.

"I need to take a shower real quick, been drenched in sweat since this morning. You know, hauling hemp sacks."

Stephanie waited outside while leisurely strolling down the corridor. She didn't dare to peek at any random doors, for fear of causing any problems.

She didn't want to believe in superstition, but who could say that when there were too many souls purged from this earth?

"Steph?" Mark called from behind her. She was leaning on the balustrade that oversaw the grand staircase to the first floor.

She turned around to find Mark donned a black T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Both garments hugged his figure tightly.

Stephanie was confused whether she liked this aesthetic because of Mark's body or she liked Mark's body because of this aesthetic.

She chose to focus on his face. Wrong step, since the wet hair gave him a sleek appearance, pleasing to the eyes.

She looked away and watched the empty street via the floor-to-ceiling window instead.

"Oh, I knew you're wandering around. Couldn't find you on my floor."

Both of them basked in the sunlight of the dusk that filtered through the window. One hour left before Stephanie had to go home. But she couldn't, could she? How to find the will to go when Mark leaned on the same balustrade, his strong forearm a few inches away from hers?

"I never thought," Mark began, "to be able to live in a hotel for days, weeks like this, or months if they allow." They here being the Department of Justice, went unspoken.

"It wasn't that my family couldn't afford the basic necessities, we had to hang in there at least until I finished school. So, I didn't know the feeling of luxury gliding over my skin."

Stephanie paid attention, putting on a stance in her Companion mode, ready to be an all-ear for a client. Although, she didn't receive any mandate to prolong her service to Mark.

"But not long after, the bars and the wrong people trickled down in my college years. Soon, my scholarship was revoked because my attendance struck blank in a row. The wrong pals became the wrong gang, the wrong drink became the wrong shackle."

She peeked from the bottom of her lashes, catching the sight of his slumped shoulders. She wanted to give a few pats, but she refrained herself.