The Tree of Knowledge

by Daniel G. Miller

  Yet now, within the span of a few days, that edifice had crumbled under a near-constant assault from a mentor, a sergeant, a friend, and even a woman he had thought he loved. Exhaustion had certainly played a part. He hadn’t taken into consideration what it meant to have no free time, no retreat, no career, no friends, no family.

  Albert sat on the dead tree, and as the poisonous concoction of humiliation, vulnerability, and embarrassment filled his heart, he understood how people came to hate.

  “The great man walks alone,” exclaimed Turner, approaching Albert from behind.

  “I’d like to be alone,” said Albert with all the strength he could muster.

  “I know,” said Turner as he sat down next to Albert and joined him in staring at the sun sinking into the horizon. The streaky blue sky between the trees was turning violet, and the shadows lengthened.

  The two sat in silence and watched the sparrows fly overhead for several minutes. Finally, Turner interrupted the silence.

  “Look, Albert. I know that was hard for you. And in normal circumstances, I would apologize. But whether you like it or not, it was necessary. It was necessary because I needed Ying to understand that she is capable of accomplishing anything, even in that tiny frame. By the same token, I needed you to understand that no one can be overlooked, no matter how benign or helpless they may seem.”

  The wise man touched Albert on the shoulder to get him to turn.

  “And if I waited for you to learn that lesson from Eva, then it would have been too late.”

  Albert saw the professor’s eyes glistening and resumed looking out into the forest.

  Turner tapped his stick on the ground and dug up the grass, exposing the soft dirt. He picked up the blades of grass and tossed them into the wind.

  “You know, I’ve never told you this, but I believe that you have the potential to be a truly great thinker. I’ve watched your career since you came to Princeton and waited for you to make a seminal contribution to mathematical thinking. But you haven’t. At first, I wondered why that was, but then I realized . . . you’ve never been challenged. You’ve been content to while away your time teaching undergraduates and making incremental contributions to obscure mathematics issues, and nothing and no one has come along and pushed you to do something truly great. You could have been a great chess player, but you quit, and everyone let you. You could have been a great mathematician, but you avoided the big issues, and everyone let you. Well, I’m not going to let you.”

  Albert looked at Turner but didn’t have the strength to argue.

  “You know, Albert, I believe it was Shakespeare who once said, ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’”

  Albert nodded, bit his lip, and closed his eyes.

  The professor clutched Albert’s shoulder, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “Think. Maybe everything you have been through in the last few days is just greatness being thrust upon you.”

  He rose from the bench.

  “Professor, I don’t want to be great. I don’t want any of this.”

  Turner cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you do.”

  Chapter 18

  For the next two weeks at the Travis Farm, Albert Puddles was the model student and soldier. He rededicated himself to the task of mastering the Tree. He ate what he was told to eat, lifted what he was told to lift, and dedicated every ounce of brainpower he had to understanding how to use the Tree in every situation he faced. The results surprised even Albert. Physically, he improved markedly. When he took his shirt off, he no longer looked emaciated, just skinny.

  But the physical progress was nothing compared to the explosion of mental activity he was experiencing. Due to Albert’s relentless scientific analysis, he and Ying were now beating Travis, Salazar, and all other comers handily in “hay bale chess,” as they jokingly called it. Each day, Turner would stack the odds further against the two by giving Travis and Salazar additional support or removing hay bales. The old professor had even started taking away weapons from the two of them. Yet despite Turner’s best efforts, Albert was always a step ahead. He covered the walls of his room with gigantic game trees depicting possible moves by his opponents and his and Ying’s corresponding reactions. What would he do if they had ten soldiers? What if he had no weapons? What if Ying got hit? Every possible scenario was envisioned and mapped. Albert had become so proficient at the game that he no longer required a paper and pen to map his game trees; it was all in his mind.

  The same was true for hand-to-hand combat. Albert had received his own set of “fighting glasses,” and after several sound beatings, he was now able to give Turner a workout. Brick continued to beat him through a combination of experience and sheer strength, but Albert was good enough now that when they fought, Brick’s formerly mocking smile was replaced by a look of measured concentration. When he arrived at the farm, the idea that Albert could ever beat the world’s leading expert in hand-to-hand combat was unthinkable, but now with his knowledge of the Tree and Gabe’s wonderful glasses, it seemed possible.

  Ying’s progress had been equally astounding. She had mastered hay bale chess, and had become an incredibly adept fighter for someone of her stature. Because of her size, she was unable to defeat trained fighters like Salazar and Brick, but she regularly dominated the local men that Travis brought to the farm. This was a source of endless confusion and humiliation among the townsmen. In addition to her considerable fighting skills, Ying truly excelled in the one area that Albert couldn’t seem to master: psychological warfare.

  As with everything else, Albert and Ying learned psychological warfare through games. In these games, Turner and Ariel would challenge Albert and Ying to convince someone to do something they would not otherwise do. Ying mastered each concept immediately. Ariel would explain various concepts like how to build trust with a stranger, how to intimidate someone, or how to manipulate group behavior. Ying would quietly listen, absorb the information, and then put it into practice. In the same manner that Albert could visualize ten moves ahead when playing chess, Ying could put herself in a person’s mind and see what they were thinking simply by observing external indicators.

  On this evening, Ariel and Professor Turner’s lesson focused on the timeless art of seduction.

  “Seduction is the single most valuable use for the Tree of Knowledge,” said Turner, raising his voice above the din of the singles bar they had frequented for their lesson. “If you can consistently generate attraction, you have real and lasting power over at least fifty percent of the population.”

  Albert was trying to listen to the professor, but he couldn’t seem to focus. Everything about his surroundings made him nervous. Each person in the bar looked to Albert like they had fallen out of a celebrity magazine. It seemed like every man was tall, well built, tan, and bursting with lotion, cologne, hair product, and tailored clothing. And the women. Each one was gorgeous in her own way—some slim and elegant with sleek haircuts; some clean and blonde as sunlight; some buxom and knowing, like Shakespearean barmaids—and all wearing skintight jeans or dresses no bigger than Albert’s washcloth. The lighting was absurdly dim, and the music was exceptionally loud. The whole experience made Albert feel small.

  Where do these people come from?

  “Albert,” shouted Ariel. “Are you listening?”

  “Oh, sorry. But are you sure we should be out in public like this? I mean, aren’t the police looking for us?”

  Turner sighed. “I find it highly unlikely that the patrons of these premises have been reading the local Princeton Examiner and noting the absence of a rogue professor on the off chance that they might be able to assist in the investigation.”

  Ariel piled on. “Yeah, you have to stop being so inwardly focused, Albert. And stop looking at my boobs.”

  Ariel was wearing a low-cut dress to fit in with the crowd,
and Albert couldn’t seem to peel his eyes from her bosom, especially since the stilettos she wore meant her bosom was at the level of his lips.

  “Sorry,” he said, lifting his gaze.

  “Lesson number one . . . don’t say ‘sorry.’ It makes you look weak. OK, now let’s get to work.”

  Ariel handed out a sheet of paper to Albert and Ying titled “Seduction: Key Points.” Point one simply said, “Peacocking.”

  Ying, dressed in a high-necked yellow dress that ended about an inch below her crotch, giggled. “What is peacocking?”

  Ariel smiled, carefully reached into her handbag, and pulled out two items: a pink feather boa and a tiara. “This is peacocking.”

  “I’m not following,” said Albert.

  “I figured you wouldn’t,” said Ariel. “The first thing you two need to know about seduction is that human beings are just like animals, and they respond to a lot of the same cues that animals do. In the wild, the male peacock’s big, bright feathers serve a very basic function: to attract females. The concept is no different for human beings. Allow me to demonstrate.”

  The psychiatrist rose from the table and stood next to Albert. “Take our friend Dr. Puddles here. Right now, he might as well be a decoration on the wall. He is wearing nice khaki pants and a checkered shirt and is completely unremarkable.”

  Albert opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Ariel made it clear that it would not be advisable.

  She continued, “However, if I wrap this pink feather boa around his neck, he becomes extremely remarkable. Now, it would be nearly impossible for someone to walk into this bar and not notice the gentleman with a feather boa around his neck. Am I right?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Albert.

  “Yeah, he looks ridiculous,” said Ying, smiling, her eyes bright with mischief.

  “Exactly. But that’s the point. If you didn’t know Albert and you saw him sitting here with a pink boa, wouldn’t part of you want to go up to him and ask, ‘Why are you wearing a boa?’”

  Ying thought for a moment and then nodded. “I suppose so.”

  “Well, that’s a huge deal. For a man to be so interesting looking that a random woman just can’t help but go talk to him is a big first step. In addition, for someone like Albert, who isn’t the most outgoing guy in the world, it really helps grease the gears.” Again, Albert opened his mouth to protest, and again he thought better of it.

  “So, do I get to be the princess? Or should I say a queen?”

  “Yes, you do, Your Highness,” said Turner, bowing his head and placing the plastic crown on her head. She beamed, gave a mock queen wave, and practiced moving so the tiara wouldn’t slide off. Albert thought she looked like something from a Disney cartoon—not that this was a bad thing, necessarily.

  “If my friends could see me now,” said Ying with a whisper of longing.

  For the next thirty minutes, Ariel painstakingly briefed the two on seduction. She explained to Albert that he should never buy a woman a drink, because it gave the impression that he was of lower worth than her and needed to buy her things just to have the honor of her attention. “Women should be buying you drinks.” Ariel told Ying about the importance of assessing and giving off “indicators of interest.” This could be anything from a smile to a playful touch on the shoulder to a flip of the hair. Turner explained how this knowledge could be used in conjunction with the Tree to manipulate anyone. Ying absolutely gobbled up the information, asking what it meant when a man did this or that. Albert just watched and listened in detached observation.

  After Ariel and Professor Turner’s lesson was complete, Albert stood up, started to put on his windbreaker, and said, “That was interesting. Weird, but interesting.”

  Ariel frowned. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To pull the car around. I assumed we were done.”

  “Oh no,” said the psychiatrist with a twisted smile. “Not until you pass the test.”

  “What test?”

  “You’re going to get a phone number from one of these lovely young ladies,” said Turner.

  “Ha, I can’t wait to see this,” said Ying.

  “I wouldn’t laugh too hard, Ms. Koh. You’re going to do the same thing.”

  “This is ridiculous. I’m not doing this. It won’t work,” Albert blustered, turning toward the door.

  Ariel jumped up from her seat and put a long arm around Albert’s shoulders. “Albert, let’s grab a drink.”

  She guided him to the bar, leaning her head toward his, and gently pulled out a barstool for him to sit on. She pulled up a stool for herself and slid her legs in a deep cross while placing a hand on Albert’s knee.

  “Bartender, can we have a couple of Miller Lites?”

  She turned to Albert and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair. He could smell the soft, sweet aroma of her perfume floating through the air. His face flushed and he wriggled on his barstool.

  Ariel put her hand on his other knee and leaned in toward him. “Albert, I understand that you’re hesitant about this. You don’t think it will work, right?”

  Albert continued to adjust himself in his chair. “No, I don’t.”

  She laughed and put her hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I like about you. You’re so logical and skeptical.”

  Albert smiled. He had never realized how understanding Ariel could be. “Thanks,” he said, looking at his shoes.

  The bartender brought the beers over.

  Ariel kept her warm gaze on Albert and slowly blinked. “Would you mind paying for these? I left my purse over at the table.”

  Albert grabbed for his wallet and dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, eager to return to his conversation with Ariel.

  “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” said Albert, looking deep into her eyes.

  Ariel’s smile dropped to a frown as she cracked him across the face with her open hand.

  “What was that?” cried the incredulous academic, placing his palm on his steaming-hot cheek.

  Ariel rose from her chair and poked him in the chest with her pointed finger. “First, I told you to never buy a woman a drink. And second, I think I’ve just demonstrated that this stuff works. Now, here’s a napkin and a pen. Draw yourself a tree and figure out how you’re going to get a phone number.”

  Stunned, Albert looked back at their table. Ying had already risen—tiara perched atop her head—and was making her way to a group of men at another high table. As he watched Ariel return to the table, Albert noticed that Turner was just sitting there observing him with a look of fatherly hope in his eyes.

  Taking a long swig of his Miller Lite and carefully placing the large pink boa on his shoulders, Albert diagrammed a tree on his napkin and pivoted to the scene in front of him. Am I really going to do this? He looked around the square-shaped bar and immediately could feel his body freezing up. Every one of these women is way out of my league. They’re not going to buy any of this crap. His eyes scanned the bar and finally landed on one woman. She was a petite girl with milky skin, green eyes, and strawberry-blonde hair. Two friends stood by her side, and she seemed to be laughing at one of them. She had an impish, warm, inviting smile, and the freckles on her cheeks seemed to dance when she grinned. She reminded him of Ying.

  But try as he might, Albert couldn’t move from his stool. He just sat there, hunched over the bar like a stone statue. He sipped on his Miller Lite and attempted to look cool, which made him look depressed. He could feel Turner’s and Ariel’s eyes burning into the back of his skull, urging him to act. But still, he couldn’t. Ariel had warned him about this. She called it “approach anxiety” and explained that the way to avoid it was to follow the three-second rule, which meant that once he saw an interesting woman, he should approach her within three seconds or he would start to freeze up. Albert realized that
probably a full minute had gone by since he had set eyes on the strawberry blonde, and his body now seized up like it had been hanging in a meat locker for the last two hours.

  To make matters worse, as he looked around the room unable to move, he saw Ying having the time of her life. Albert watched as the table of three men hung on Ying’s every word, oblivious to the rest of the room. And Ying was doing everything Ariel had told her. Playfully touching their arms. Laughing. Tossing her hair. And it was working. Each man seemed to be subtly and not so subtly vying for her attention, elbowing each other to talk to her.

  Ying’s success heightened Albert’s sense of impotence. He realized that he was playing a game he could not win. But just as he pushed out his barstool to turn tail back to Turner and Ariel in humiliation, he felt a playful tug on his feather boa.

  “Well, isn’t this the most ridiculous thing I ever saw,” said the strawberry-blonde woman with a gentle Southern drawl.

  “Yeah, I know,” said Albert sheepishly.

  “I was headed to the ladies’ room, and I saw you sittin’ here with that boa on, and I just had to see what that was all about.”

  Albert debated simply telling the woman the truth, but remembered the next step he wrote down in his tree. Haltingly, he delivered his canned response, “Well, it’s my birthday, so my friends gave me this feather boa to wear.”

  Right on cue, the strawberry blonde smiled, put her hand on his shoulder, and said, “Happy birthday!”

  Albert couldn’t believe it. She had touched his shoulder. An indicator of interest. Could this stuff really work?

  “Would you like to buy me a drink? My name’s Sarah,” said the woman.