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“The Power of Dreams – a slogan that unites over two hundred thousand of our employees all around the world,” said the CEO of Nonoda, Toshihiro Minobe. “For three years now, the ‘new’ Nonoda has been rapidly transforming to bring the power of dreams to every home and every heart all around the world.”

Yusuke Kuma poured yet another portion of peated whiskey into an empty rocks glass, leaned back in the chair. The gigantic curved screen that turned the wall of panels into something resembling the cockpit of a spaceship showed the recording of today’s tour presentation for the Rote Stier team. The circular assembly hall on the second floor, rows of benches in a semicircle, and in the center – a motorcycle on a pedestal, three speakers … It was in Kuma’s habit to re-listen to all important public events as background noise, sometimes at one-and-a-half speed rate, barely paying attention to the visuals, relying solely on his hearing.

He wanted to remember everything – and not miss the details where, as it’s known, the devil is. The acoustic system in the office on the tenth floor allowed him to pay attention to the details – if it was necessary; in other cases, a cursory run-through sufficed.

Time had tumbled over midnight, the top levels of the headquarters in the Aoyama building were empty, the top management had long gone home, though on the lower floors there could occasionally be heard the tapping of fingers on a keyboard, the rustling of snack wrappers and the hiss of energy drinks.

The office had been in chaos all week – because of the Grand Prix in Suzuka and these incendiary fellows from the Rote Stier racing team. Within a week, three people from the event management department were sent on sick leave with tachycardia and brainfag – and a dozen more were likely concealing ailments. The deification of work never bothered Kuma – it was a part of his Japanese nature.

He smirked at the thought and put the whiskey to his lips. The only thing that set him apart from a typical Japanese – he never got shitfaced.

“Koto and mono,” Minobe went on, “useful experience and material objects – these are the fundamental values of the company, aimed at improving the quality of our clients’ lives. We are happy to share these values with you.”

Before taking the presidential seat, Minobe had been the head of the Research and Development center that united the Solution System Development Center and the Innovative Research Excellence department – where Kuma labored. The new era of Nonoda began with Minobe taking on the role of the CEO, the ‘challenger’ – within a couple of years he brought their electric vehicle production to the global level, announced the revolutionary development of solid-state batteries, capable of uprooting the automobile industry.

Utilizing external expertise and forming useful alliances was also a part of the development strategy – like the return to Formula One, but not as a racing team owner, but in the role of a power units supplier for Rote Stier.

To become, at once, indispensable – and amaze imagination every time … That’s Nonoda’s mission, that’s the mission of the Innovative Research Excellence department.

“And we fully support you, Mr. Minobe,” spoke Christian Pierce, the chief of the Bulls, and then nodded at Kuma, who was, at that moment, standing on the right of the makeshift stage. “Mr. Kuma rightly noted before yesterday’s race: the mission of popularization is, always, a building of a bridge between the manufacturer and the consumer, between the artist and the spectator. Golden hands create what we, the big circus, show.”

Kuma rocked the whiskey in the glass, it was challenging to drink the thick, smoky, wet wool-scented beverage even in small sips. Peated whiskey was remarkably good when served in the hollow of a scoop of vanilla ice cream …

“All of you remember the RS14 that Mr Doodle doodled for the Wings for Life charity auction,” spoke Pierce. “The artist made a work of art on an automobile industry manifesto – and Max and Sergio signed it on the rear-wing end plate. The Doodle Bull was sold for two hundred twenty thousand pounds sterling – and the proceeds went to a fund that finances the treatment of spinal cord injuries. At the season opener, I was asked why I didn’t put on a suit like Mr Doodle’s – black and white, with a pattern …”

The cameraman timely captured shots of an assistant handing a cover from behind the speakers – obviously, with a suit inside. The team was hallooing, they had already guessed that the time for the suit has finally come …

“Max, it’s been decided that you will wear the suit,” Pierce announced. “Instructions from the head racing engineer.”

“From the physiotherapist!” Daniel Rizzo called out.

The spectators burst into laughter, Max Vermeer was already rising from the bench to take the cover, his young face was grinning from ear to ear.

“Daniel, you are absolutely right,” the chief added. “And let me tell you a secret – this time from your coach.”

A second cover ended up in Pierce’s hands, Vermeer was already pointing at Rizzo and guffawing as he returned to his seat.

Next was Sergio Pelaez’s turn to take the garb with exclusive design from a famous graffitist, but Kuma was no longer paying attention to the recording – he had turned away from the screen, staring pensively ahead, towards the wide window with Tokyo’s night lights.

Show – and showmen. A big circus, indeed … Nonoda creates the products of the future – but someone’s got to promote and sell them.

Like with robots – everyone loves robots. Isaac – a humanoid robot named after a science fiction writer and his three laws of robotics, which had stood in the headquarters’ exhibition hall for over two decades, became Nonoda’s trademark – because he spoke sign language, acted like a human, poured coffee into a paper cup, and hopped on one leg like a child.

Isaac’s technologies gave rise to an entire new branch of development for mobile autonomous and remote-controlled systems – but it’s the robot that everyone remembers … Like the Doodle Bull and Formula One drivers dressed in patterned suits with the team’s logos.

At the entrance to the headquarters is an enormous banner with Vermeer’s portrait, in the welcome hall of the first floor there are posters with images of Rote Stier team’s drivers, whose cars hold Nonoda’s power units. Fans make daily pilgrimages to these; the chrome elements of motorcycles and electric cars don’t attract as much attention as a driver’s face and a bright race car – whether exhibited in a museum or roaring down Tokyo’s central street during the city show run.

Kuma knew the words of his speech at the meeting cold – but not because he prepared it in advance. Artificial intelligence will never fully replace a human being – as long as humans fancy looking at humans. Humans ensoul robots, humans need a circus and heroes … And villains, too – and theater, and drama, and tears – of sorrow and joy. Advisory systems, neural networks, autonomous cars, drones and other gadgets – to make life easier for humanity, to serve – so that humanity can spend more time on entertainment.

Everything’s simple: an Austrian, a Brit, a Japanese – all want the same thing. To streamline the operations, less routine, more vivid interest – to advance and achieve results.

Development is a mechanism embedded by evolution, the property of everyone, even those considered hopelessly good-for-nothings. Workaholics are especially quick to get addicted to the eternal race for unattainable satisfaction – and they die on the job every year, receiving posthumous allowance.

Kuma oft asked himself whether he was a workaholic. The whiskey bottle on the table, the carelessly loosened tie knot on his neck, said he wasn’t … However, results were always the measure of his self-worth.

The catastrophe that happened to him two years ago opened his eyes – he almost lost everything, and the death that had nearly taken him was merely a part of the fall.

For many years he had been building his empire – and in an instant the tower of glass and metal came crashing down, threatening to bury him in the debris. After the car crash at an intersection in Toshima City, a ward in Tokyo – the fault of a tourist who lost control of his car and died on the spot – Yusuke Kuma, with multiple bodily harm and a traumatic brain injury, was rushed to the hospital and spent about half a year in a coma.

The resurrection and the return to the rails of the head of the Innovative Research Excellence department was a true miracle. A few months of rehabilitation – and Kuma was good as new, as if a new man.

“I almost forgot!” Pierce gave a forced exclamation. “I’ll reveal one more secret, only to you – and our hospitable partners from Nonoda.”

He was pulling a sheet with an artist’s name out of an envelope, the winner of the competition to design the livery of the Bulls’ race car for the last of the three American Grand Prix – the one taking place in Austin in the second half of October. One more way to attract the fans to the big circus show …

“Rear and front wing end plates, the side pods, the side chassis … No, it’s not graffiti,” Pierce smiled, “and not anime.”

The team had already guessed the subject of the surprise, they were perkily calling out their guesses and whispering, the cameraman alternated between filming Vermeer, Pelaez, and Rizzo, who stood out against the blue and orange suits.

Kuma had already brought the whiskey glass to his lips, but never took the sip. An instant – and the camera’s already switched from the row of the chattering Bulls in the assembly hall to the speakers on the stage – the laughing Piece, Minobe, patiently watching, and Kuma himself, who was looking over Rote Stier chief’s shoulder to read the text on the card.

He slammed the rocks glass on the table with a clatter, made a stopping motion, pausing the recording, reached for the touchscreen control panel embedded in the desk to rewind.

An instant later the whiskey glass flew into the glass wall panel a couple of inches from the screen, the liquid splashed on the floor mid-flight, leaving a glistening stroke, the shards scattered across the office to the deafening, sparking accompaniment of the ringing.

In the envelope was the name of the designer who had created the layout inspired by the symmetry of Blake’s Tyger – titled ‘Invariant.’

On the curved screen was the mug of Richard North – in Rote Stier’s brand baseball cap and jacket.

The son of a bitch is in Nonoda – right under his nose!