Awakening, 2nd edition

by Kuili, Ray N.

  But she had to break off—the boys ’ club emerged boisterously from the balcony.

  “No way,” Chris was saying, continuing the conversation that had been started outside. “They don’t stand a chance this season . Not with that roster.”

  “No so fast, ” Brandon was objecting . “What about Kremer? This is the first time he’s ever played for them.”

  “Kremer’s good, but one man can ’t save them.”

  “Of course he can. And he will!”

  “Shall we start?” asked Stella.

  And she added in an undertone to Joan , “Later.”

  “Right, it’s time to get started, ” Chris agreed with a loud enthusiasm. “The break is over. Who ’s next?”

  “I am,” Paul said lazily. “But you ’re dead wrong about this season.”

  Paul’s speech turned out to be a shocking surprise. What they’d expected : a sarcastic narrative full of caustic comments about a boy who ’d grown up fighting tirelessly against an army of idiots and lousy workers . What he delivered : well thought -through, captivating, ironic, but at the same time in no way cynical story of someone who had decided what he wanted to do with his life while still a teen and who by his thirties was leading a large team of first-class professionals working on challenging and interesting problems. And although Paul didn ’t match Alan ’s soft humor, his speech definitely stirred more interest than just Stella ’s.

  In one aspect, though , Paul ’s performance seemed to match Alan ’s precisely. His eyes were pausing on Joan ’s face much more often than anyone else ’s. As for Joan, she was smiling enigmatically throughout the entire presentation.

  Brandon was next, and this time there were no surprises. He had plenty of stories to share, and he was laying them out one after another with the simplistic attitude of a man who knows his worth and doesn ’t care about draping his words in nice outfits. He spoke of ruthless loans, endless and tiring attempts to combine college studies with night shifts, and of that stupid broken bone that almost made him walk away from his degree at the end of his second college year. There were the first screw-ups at work , and first conflicts , and the first non-trivial decision, which in the end was nothing but the impetuous impulse of an inexperienced youth. There was a great deal in those simple words and short phrases. He talked sparingly and not nearly as vividly as those who had spoken before him, but his sparse speech hinted at the kind s of dramas that made others ’ challenges look easy and insignificant.

  “Very impressive, ” said Chris when Brandon finished. “Our process works, no question about it. Mike, you rock. Now let ’s go get some food.”

  The process works, the process works . . . Exactly! The damn process works! That ’s the whole point! Chris gloomily looked out the window at nature having its summer fest. That ’s the point . . .

  It’s been working so well that all of a sudden they may decide to vote seriously and their votes may go to someone else. And you can ’t be certain about a single one of them ! Joan seems to be on the hook, but she ’s so sly that it ’s impossible to be sure. Well, come to think of it, it ’s easy to be certain about one thing. Or rather one person. Stella. She ’s going t o cast her vote for someone else. For example, Robert. Or Michael. Although we ’re yet to hear what Michael has to say about his past. But the kiddo, the kiddo! Who would ’ve expected him to show that kind of proficiency and maturity ? Ah, you should ’ve expe cted it ! Another case of a well predictable vote.

  That vote will join Paul’s. Who , as it turns out , is quite a competitor too —as if there has been any shortage of them. First, it is now apparent that he can talk like a pro ; t herefore he can think like one. And sec ond, even more importantly, he clearly does care about winning , and his level of interest goes well beyond what you ’d expect , listening to him quipping all day long. So you can ’t be sure of anything anymore, thanks to the wonderful process some of us have put in place.

  The only good thing about the present state is that no one seems to be plotting or poisoning the well. And if anyone was, this morning Stella must ’ve made him think twice about it. By the way , why did she decide to talk about the code of conduct out of the blue? Could it be that our Mrs. Right eous had come across some interesting dirt? She had given an odd look to Michael more than once. Screw it, things are just going the wrong way now . . .

  And in the meantime, power is slipping away. It has just begun building up and already it is almost gone! And what sucks the most is t hat they still don ’t mind being herded like a flock of sheep. Get up! Move! Go right, go left . . . Good boy! You ’re a good boy , too. And you . . . you should try harder. Don ’t slow down! It ’s too early to relax!

  And everyone listens, everyone pays attention, everyone follows the orders. There ’s just one little problem: there isn ’t much to offer beyond this now overused, “Get up!” And you can ’t guess what they ’re thinking while they ’re listen ing to these encouraging orders. They may just as well be giggling to themselves imagining how they ’re going to row him up Salt River at these stupid elections.

  Take Paul, for instance. Yesterday that son of a bitch had openly revolted! “You go ahead and disperse, and I ’ll think . . .”

  I would’ve shown you some “disperse ,” had we been in a different place. . . Good thing there was no one around to hear him. But there ’s nothing that can be done to fix it , l ike it or not . But Paul feels great without being given orders and having a boss. And he ’s not alone. Why? Because there ’s no common goal anymore. There was one—to create the process—and now it ’s gone. Has been fully accomplished by a certain capable man in charge . . .

  The damn process has been established and it’s been working like clockwork ever since. And with that accomplishment, the only common goal has gone. Now it’s everyone for himself. There ’s no single common goal, no single common interest. And who needs a leader without a common interest?

  He glanced at the glowing red digits of the alarm clock.

  It’s time to go downstairs. However feeble and frail this power is, there ’s nothing better for the time being . And it needs attention and nurturing. There ’s no bigger danger for power than leaving it unattended. Without constant cultivation , it withers. Withers and dies. You relax, you soften your grip, you stop paying attention for a minute, even for a second—and it ’s gone. You get sold out, you get set up, you get backstabbed. And then you ’re finished. So the only option is to go downstairs , and , until there ’s something better, herd them like cattle to the lunch table and set the direction of the conversation.

  He sighed heavily and left the room.

  “And that is where my past ends and my present begins.”

  Robert nodded briefly and walked back to his seat.

  They saw him off with warm applause. In fact, the entire atmosphere was saturated with friendliness. So many personal details and stories had been shared throughout the day that it felt as if they had known each other for years. A group of old friends would ’ve envied the way they were talking now.

  “All right, looks like we ’re done, ” Chris rose to his feet. “We meet tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Same place, same time, same wonderful bunch of folks. That ’s it for today ”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Everyone turned to Alex. Something in his unusually sharp tone was at odds with the surrounding benevolence.

  “Have you changed your mind?” Stella asked. “Feeling like you ’re up for a speech?”

  “What do you mean, changed his mind?” wondered Brandon . “It was a fair deal. Sorry, but no speech today.”

  “This is not a speech, ” Alex said weightily. “I ’m not into th o se games anymore.”

  “Games ?” Chris was truly appalled. “Did you say, games ?”

  “Hey, let the man talk, ” Ross asked.

  Alex glared at him briefly and repeated measuredly, “This is not a speech.”

  Unhurriedly, he opened the folder lying before him and in the same u
nhurried manner took a folded piece of paper from it. With the same calm, slow movements, like a judge before reading out a verdict, he unfolded the sheet, ironed it out with his wide palm, even read a line or two. Only then did he look up heavily and m e et the gazes of the others, all quiet in face of this strange turn of events .

  “I found this on my desk today, ” he knocked on the sheet with a half-bent finger. “If this is a joke, I really don ’t appreciate it and find it ridiculous and not a single bit funny. If this is not a joke, it is a manifestation of ultimate stupidity. Does anyone here have anything to say about this?”

  He looked around the room again.

  “Anyone?”

  “We don’t even know what it says, ” said Paul.

  “One of you knows, ” Alex objected. “But apparently we ’re out of luck and this coward is not about to speak. You’re surprise d , right? I was supposed to keep my mouth shut, right? I was supposed to be a good boy and just do as I was told, wasn ’t I? Wasn ’t that the plan?”

  It seemed that he was talking to everyone and to no one in particular. His face was full of fastidious disgust, as if instead of the paper in front of him lay a squashed cockroach.

  “I doubt anyone here knows what you ’re talking about, ” Brandon said softly. “I for one am clueless.”

  “Then let me explain, ” Alex ironed out the sheet once again. “Someone , who ha s chosen not to reveal his or her identity , has informed me that he or she would like to collaborate with me. This paper offers me a sweet deal. My obligations are so simple, they ’re not even worth mentioning. All I have to do is just obey every order of this individual. In turn, my anonymous colleague promises not to sue me upon our completion of this workshop.”

  “Not to . . . sue you?” Brandon echoed him, perplexed.

  “Correct. Not to sue me, ” Alex confirmed.

  “Not sue you for . . .?”

  “For using physical violence in order to win.”

  “Wait a second, ” said Chris. “Now I ’m really confused. Are you saying you ’ve threatened somebody?”

  “Now we’re talking, ” Alex said with a gloomy smile. “This is precisely why this isn ’t a hollow threat. So you seriously think I would even lay a finger on someone here? That ’s the whole point!”

  Indignation instantly replaced disgust on his face.

  “Of course I haven ’t touched anyone! Of course I don ’t intend to touch anyone! What kind of baloney is that? This is plain crazy! Do you think we ’re in some movie here? You must ’ve been reading too many thrillers to suggest something like this ! I ’m a normal man. I ’m a family man. I have my life, my career. So what if I go to the gym on the way home? That’s my hobby , for Pete ’s sake! Some go dancing, some play poker and I happen to like pumping iron. So now that makes me a monster? Now anyone can drag me into court? No way! No way!”

  He swung his index finger ferociously in front of himself.

  “No way!”

  “Alex,” Robert said firmly. “I get that you ’re pissed off, but you ’d better understand that we ’re still clueless. Can you calm down and tell us what ’s been going on? We still don ’t know what ’s going on.”

  Alex took a deep breath.

  “Fine,” he said, this time calmer. “I ’m being blackmailed. Someone is trying to blackmail me with a potential lawsuit for actions that I ’ve never taken, never intended to take and have never even considered. The author of this document thinks—perhaps for a good reason—that any jury will buy that story once they take a single look at me . If I don ’t want to end up in jail or at least in debt, I have to cooperate. That ’s all.”

  “Mind if I take a look?” asked Michael.

  “Be my guest, ” Alex passed him the paper.

  In complete silence, Michael scanned the short message.

  “True,” he said, having finished reading. “This doesn ’t look like a joke. It ’s a pity you ’ve acted too quickly.”

  “Too quickly?”

  “Yes. It would ’ve been wiser to play along and find out who ’s behind it. At some point , that would ’ve become clear.”

  “You’re right, ” Alex shook his head in vexation. “It would ’ve been wiser to wait and play this game. But , you know , I have little patience for this shit. Know what I mean? I just hate dirty politics.”

  “What about handwriting?” suggested Kevin. “Can we use it to track him down?”

  “No we can’t, ” snapped Alex. “It ’s printed.”

  “And where exactly do we have a printer in this place?” asked Joan.

  “In the library, ” Alex uttered. “That was the first thing I checked. But no traces there —whoever did it knew what he was doing.”

  Joan frowned doubtfully.

  “No traces at all?”

  “None,” Alex said, his eyes studying her intently. “But it ’s not that important.”

  It was obvious that by now he had gotten a hold of himself. His massive face was calm with a shade of haughtiness. It was the face of a man whose feelings were really hurt, but who was determined to get his revenge on the offender.

  “To tell you the truth, I don ’t care who ’s behind this. This person thinks he ’s smart, but he really isn ’t. In fact, this person is simply stupid. He ’s naive, he ’s ignorant , and he must be full of himself.”

  Alex’s gray eyes were sliding from one face to another, going around the room.

  “He thinks that tricks like this would give him an edge in winning this game. But he ’s dead—and I mean it—dead wrong on this assumption. Yes, had I wanted to rely on my physical abilities I could ’ve used them to my benefit during this week ; m oreover, I suspect that if I were to do it, I ’d be able to secure a few votes. But regardless of what this genius thinks of me, this idea makes me sick. Civilized people happen to have much more efficient means at their disposal. Much more efficient . . . And if I find this punk, I ’ll know better than to beat the crap out of him, although he truly deserves it, for this kind of manipulation . On the contrary, I ’ll follow his advice : I ’ll drag his ass to court and then we ’ll see whose career ends up ruined forever.”

  “Don’t you suppose there ’s some way to find out who it was?” asked Kevin after a heavy sil ence.

  An enthusiastic reply came from Ross.

  “I’m sure there ’s a way!” he said hotly. “We have to find him and show him the door.”

  “Well, technically this is one thing we cannot do. We can ignore him, but we can ’t make him leave.”

  “Yes, we can! And at least we ’ll know who the guy is. Don ’t you want to know? Why don ’t we check who was where when the note got placed in Alex ’s room?”

  Evidently, Ross was bloodthirstily rushing to get on the warpath.

  “I’m not sure it ’s worth the time and effort , ” objected Chris. “Though on the other hand, it ’d be great to find this moron. Who knows what else he may come up with.”

  “Precisely,” nodded Kevin. “We can ’t afford not to know who ’s been playing dirty.”

  “Yes, we can.”

  Alex turned at once to Michael.

  “Care to explain?”

  Michael met his suspicious gaze calmly.

  “Let’s not get too excited. It ’s so easy to go for , ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have a murderer in our midst !’ You ’ve just reminded us yourself : this game has no rules. Someone must ’ve internalized this principle better than the others. That’s all. He tried taking it too far , has obviously failed at that, and is participating in this conversation right now. He knows the trick didn ’t work. Let ’s leave it at that. If we launch an all-out manhunt nothing good will come out of it ; m oreover, it could be exactly what this person has planned all along.”

  “And meanwhile, ” Joan said discontentedly, “while we all pretend that nothing ha s happened, this person is going to come up with a new trick.”

  “Certainly,” Michael agreed easily . “But he ’ll have a new trick
for us no matter what we do.”

  “Going for another ride?”

  Robert shoved the boat key into his pocket and looked at Stella.

  “Yep. Why not?”

  “Didn’t you have one this morning?”

  “No. I was here. Didn ’t go anywhere.”

  He emerged from behind the now unmanned receptionist ’s desk . The lodge was nearly deserted—the entire staff had left the building except for two of the kitchen personnel .

  “What do you like so much about it?” asked Stella. “A ride or two—I get it. But you ’re taking it out every day.”

  “Sightseeing. It ’s great here. Plus a couple of boats here are actually good. Lots of power.”

  “So what?”

  Robert clinked the keys in his pocket.

  “You probably don ’t get to ride powerboats much.”

  Stella shook her head.

  “Never. I’ve been out on a rowboat a couple of times, and once tried a kayak, but that ’s about it. No powerboat experience whatsoever. You know that you haven ’t answered my question, right?”

  Robert pondered for a moment, looking at her.

  “How about coming with me? That ’ll give you the answer.”

  “Ah . . . No, thanks, ” Stella ’s voice suddenly grew colder. “Appreciate the offer, but no. I don ’t feel like it right now.”

  Robert shrugged.

  “It’s your call. A previous engagement?”

  “Just not in the mood for it . It ’s all right. Have fun.”

  She turned back to the pile of gaudy magazines.

  “Wait,” Robert said with emphasis. “What is this all about? I don ’t think I ’ve offended you in any way , have I?”

  Stella took her eyes of the magazine and gave him a surprised look.

  “Offended me? You? Of course you haven ’t.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I just don ’t feel like going. Is that a problem?”

  “Yes,” said Robert. “That’s a problem. But we can talk about this later. Take care.”