The Public Relations Protection Agency

THE PRESENT

My robot, Geoff, wakes me up at exactly 5:27 am, singing Peter Gabriel’s song, “In Your Eyes.” He is not programmed to do so. He continues singing, “Love, I don’t like seeing so much pain, so much wasted, and this moment keeps slipping away.”

“Why are you singing this song now?”

“I have no idea, he answers. I know it’s your favourite song to listen to when you get the blues.”

“I feel okay. It must be a glitch.”

“Since you are up, do you want me to make you your favourite breakfast?”

“Of course, you can. Thank you.”

.

The BACKGROUND

I live and work on the East Coast, in New York City. There is only one country left from what used to be North, Central, and South America. It’s called the Americas.

I am a Public Relations advisor for the wealthy at Green Gables.

Most Americas citizens live in cities or in the surrounding areas, known as warehouse communities. The wealthy live in the cities. They tore down the houses and buildings of the poor and middle classes. They created a warehouse concept in which entire communities live and share resources. They call us the equals.

They live like in the old days depicted in the book by Lucy Maud Montgomery Anne of Green Gables. They build their own micro houses, schools, and gardens within these extensively large warehouses that protect them from extreme weather, the old-fashioned way with manual labour. Their technology is limited. They have smart phones, notebooks, and smart TVs from the old days for communication and entertainment.

The Committee of the Wealthy and Noble (CWN) gives each warehouse Universal Basic Income to share. Each warehouse community has its own governance system to manage the budget.

I used to be a warehouse kid, who grew up near Los Angeles. My family was allocated warehouse: 10052025.

And today, I work at a top PR protection agency founded by Lucas Carr, one of the wealthiest men in America. His family made their money by distributing unsold food to the poor and middle classes by using food trucks.

The Smith family has called upon me specifically to help them with the release of their kidnapped children. There is a plethora of underground groups that are on a mission to slowly eliminate the greed syndrome the wealthy suffer from. The activists usually don’t ask for money. They always make a list of demands for them.

That is how I met Lucas Carr. The Warehouse Educational Fighters snuck into cities and started putting schools on fire at night. To stop them, the CWN agreed that 10 young adults from each warehouse would be able to go to college and afterward stay to work in the city of their choice.

My community chose me because they believed I had a good heart.

I was studying Modern Robotic Media, and Lucas was studying business. We met in a creative and imagination class at Westbrook College.

One day leaving class, he approached me. He was impressed on how fast I came up with ideas and gave me a job offer at his start-up Public Relations firm.

“The wealthy are getting tired of how long it takes the CWN to negotiate with the underground groups,” he said.

“They are not rebels, they are activists,” I answer.

“You were a warehouse kid. We need ideas for both sides to come to terms quickly. You know and understand them.”

I like his idea if I could help my people and prevent violence, this city job would be as good as any.

“I’m in, but my only condition is we call the firm Green Gables.”

“It’s a deal. I will send you the address of my family’s building on Madison Avenue. You will get the codes and the address to your loft soon, which is owned by my family. See you in a few weeks after college is over at Green Gables.”

 

BACK TO THE PRESENT

As I wait for my Air Fly Friendly Taxi to take me to work on top of my building in the village, I get a call from my mom.

“Your aunt, Lily, died of a heart attack,” she says, coldly.

“I bet she died at 2:27 a.m.”

“How did you know?”

Then my father takes the phone from my mother.

“You have to be at her funeral this Wednesday,” he says.

I can tell he has been crying.

“Dad, you know we need permits and security to leave the cities. That can take weeks. It also hurts my soul that I can’t be with you.”

“But your aunt Lily helped raise you.”

“I know, Dad. I feel shattered.”

Out of anger, he ends the conversation. I try calling him back, but I know he will not answer.

The taxi arrives, and I sob all the way to work. I take the maintenance elevator to my office. It’s all handled by robots now.

I regroup and I wash up in my office’s bathroom. 

Lucas arrives at 9:00 a.m. sharp for our video call with the Smiths, the Coopers, and the Nurse Kidnappers.

“Ready,” he asks. 

“Yes, my robot assistant Charles already has everyone on screen.”

“This is my proposal I start. I called the Alternative Health Group, and they want to help you get your kids back. In exchange, they want the Smiths to donate one billion to their organic vaccine program every year.”

I pause.

“You own all the culinary and entertainment venues in the Americas, and they want a 50% reduction rate on all the advertising they do.”

“What about half a billion per year?” Mr. Smith asks the CEO, Ben Cooper of AHG?”

“I would close this deal at 700 million?”

“What about $650 million and 80 percent reduction rate on advertising?” Mr. Smith asks.

“Done, you have a deal,” Ben Cooper says.

“The nurses in the warehouse communities want these vaccines prior to flu season every year. Too many children and the elderly are dying from common viruses.”

“No, problem,” Mr. Cooper says.

“But they want them delivered by drones.”

“We agree to pay the transportation costs,” Cooper says. “With the reduction rate in advertising, it will cost us less to establish the networks for the drones to deliver them.”

I ask the head nurse who has her face covered in the screen if she accepts the deal. She naturally does.

“Okay now, you must all leave. Charles will send you all the contracts within minutes. As soon as he gets all the signatures, I will get the location of your kids, Mr. and Mrs. Smith.”

Lucas takes everyone to the last floor of the building, which is a shi shi restaurant for the digital signing of the contracts. They will have brunch designed for former Queens and Kings with the best view of the city.

“Louisa, what warehouse are the kids in?

“03052021.”

“How are they doing?”

“Their parents apparently bought all the houses in Brentwood. They have no children near them at home. They seem to be having fun playing with our kids. They are also fascinated by the old technology.”

As we were talking, I already sent a Green Gables plane with two female guards to pick them up.

I sit in my office patiently for hours until the kids are returned to our building’s launch pad. Eventually, I settle on my sofa and fall asleep. The mission to retrieve the kids could take up to 20 hours.

 

THE NEXT AFTERNOON

 Lucas wakes me up in the middle of the afternoon.

The first thing I ask,” Is the family reunited?”

“Yes, the guards did a great extraction job. We were lucky that your aunt Lily was a nurse and their supervisor for many years before she retired. We both knew this would be a done deal.”

“How are the kids?”

“They were upset to be back in New York. They refuse to go to trauma therapy, only available in New York, because they had fun at the warehouse. They want a real gardener and landscaper for their house. They enjoyed helping with gardening to their parents’ horror. They also want old TVs and to watch the old kid shows.”

“Glad they are okay.”

“You look sad. The kids are more than fine. They enjoyed their exposure to a different world that isn’t private like ours for the few.”

“My aunt Lily died last night.”

“OMG, I’m sorry to hear that. How long will it take to get the security clearance so you could go home?”

“Charles told me six weeks.”

“Go home and don’t come back. If we have any emergencies, we’ll call you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go home and grieve. You look awful.”

“Thank you. I’m feeling out of sorts and useless, anyhow.”

TWO WEEKS LATER

Doing Yoga with Geoff, I receive a call from my mother, which utterly surprises me.

Like normal, she is cold.

“Candace, your father’s underground group got the wrong man. He was so angry that you could not come to your aunt’s funeral, that he started one.”

“So, they took a hostage.”

“Yes. But they got the wrong man.”

My mother has Capgras Syndrome. She believes that everyone she knows is an imposter. She is missing the emotional connection to know that I Candace am her daughter, but her mind somehow knows. 

She then uploads me a picture of Lucas tied in a chair.

Luckily, the old smart phones can communicate with our mini-robotic ones.

“Oh lord, what has my father done.”

“Mom, do you know where they are keeping him?”

“I don’t trust the man who tells me he is your father or you,” she says, ending the call.

It never ceases to amaze me how her brain does not believe it is us. I ask Geoff to call in the office and ask for their demands.

I sit on my terrace, staring up into nowhere. At least my mother’s intellect was somewhat intact. She called to warn me.

Geoff comes back from his AI connection portal, which allows him to connect to my office. The demands from the Family Rebellion Group have not come in.

“Candace, the Carr family knows your father is their leader.”

“Why hasn’t anyone called me yet?”

“Lucas’s parents want to wait for the demands before you start negotiating with your father. They also want some cause marketing attached in the negotiations like you did for the Smith family. They want to stay put. They will be surrounding this building with City Police and be putting it on lockdown in case you were somehow involved.”

I feel my stomach spin. They believe I had something to do with this. I really do not know what to do calm myself down. My father plays chess, and it always takes him a long time to make a move.

 

ONE WEEK LATER

After getting out of the shower, Geoff asks if I am dressed before stepping in. He has the gentleman file installed within his programs.

I tell him to wait five minutes so I can dry myself off and put on a robe.

In exactly fine minutes, he walks in saying, “We have the demands from your father’s group.”

“Throw them at me.”

“You mean, tell me.”

“Yes, please.”

“He wants the warehouse citizens living in the cities to be officially called dual citizens, so they could attend the funerals of their loved ones. He also wants grievers two weeks off to stay with their families.”

“I don’t think the Carr family will agree to that.”

“There is more. He wants all the grievers to be delivered home by Air Taxi.”

“I think all the wealthy might agree to is one-week unpaid vacation and to attend the funeral.”

I text all the demands to Lucas’s parents. I tell them my proposal will be that the grievers will get one week unpaid and could leave on daily planes that deliver essentials goods to the warehouses. In this way, they are tracked like a flight employee. They could make a a list of presents for the deceased of the family. The Carr family could put care packages for them according to these lists with their condolences.

They text me within minutes that they accept my proposal. I text them back that I am waiting for my dad to make contact.

MAKING CONTACT

I answer my dad’s call two days later. 

“Dad, have you lost your mind? The most I can get you is one week off unpaid leave and get the warehouse grievers back home on the essential good flights that leave everyday. I also requested that the family of the deceased can make a list of gifts that the Carr family will provide them.”

“That sounds better than nothing,” my father says without much resistance. “I just know how much it would have meant to your aunt Lily for you to be with us.”

“I know you are doing this from pain. Wait on the line until I tell the Carr parents that you accept their proposal.”

“There is one more condition that we would like to add, “Lucas will be sent home by plane.”

“Wow, you are asking some of the richest people in the world to send their son home by flights meant for the goods of the equals.”

“Wait, until I text his parents.”

I do and they accept the offer. Lucas will be back in New York in two days. They also thank me for the great deal I got them.

They then text me: Our security will be holding you on lockdown until our son is home safe.

I text back: Of course, I agree.

I go back to speak to my dad and say, “Please untie him.”

“We already did. He has been touring our warehouse with our governance team to teach us to be more efficient. The picture was just for show.

“He is very nitpicky, Dad.”

“We know. But it will help us make some necessary cutbacks to do more for the community.”

“Bye, Dad. I love you.”

He does not answer, and the line goes empty.

At least, I will have some time to read while on lockdown.

TWO DAYS LATER, EARLY MORNING

As I am eating the breakfast Geoff made me, the city police swarm into my condo by my balcony and arrest me. 

They handcuff me and take me to the essential goods airport.

I see Lucas come off one the essential good planes with his designer suit dishevelled. He is shocked to see me in handcuffs. His private air taxi is waiting for him with his personal two robot assistants.

He walks over to me and asks the police, “What is going on?”

“She has been declared any enemy of the Cities of the Americas,” says one of the officers.

“By whom?”

“Your parents, Sir. They believe she betrayed you. That she was involved. They are being kind enough to send her home to her warehouse. She won’t have to go warehouse jail.”

“Of course not, they have no proof she did anything. No, my parents did not want their grandchildren to have warehouse lineage.”

All I can manage is to cry, I adore Lucas, and his agency did help the warehouse civilians’ bit by bit. At least we were more efficient than the CWN, and we gave the wealthy cause marketing bragging rights at their private parties.

Lucas tries to come towards me as they take me away, but his assistant robots hold him back.

“I love you,” he yells, as they walk to my plane. “You are my best friend and North Star.” 

“I always doubted his feelings toward me. Now, I regret that I did.”

Once I’m in the plane, I see Lucas sobbing out the window. But I have feeling I will see him again one day.   

For now, all I know is that I am heading home with Geoff, too. My robotic best friend and helper. At least, they let me keep him. And I will be able to grieve my aunt Lily.

Geoff is still connected to my messaging system.

“Candace, Lucas just wired your warehouse a billion dollars. The money comes from the 5 percent of shares you asked for when you signed up to work for his start up. According to him, you were never officially fired or convicted."

I just continue to stare out into space, already missing Lucas.

I then start sobbing just like he did.