Mr. Cartwright and the Final Solution

by Greta C. Wink

  Text Copyright 2015 by Greta C. Wink

  Cover art by Liz Laribee, copyright 2015

  If it hadn’t been for the readers of MILTON RECOMMENDS then I probably wouldn’t have bothered with this one. This book is dedicated to all of you who are making an author out of a writer.

  MR. CARTWRIGHT

  AND THE FINAL SOLUTION

  Part One:

  Mr. Cartwright

  July 30th, 2027

  National Broadcast Network

  M: It’s a beautiful summer day here in New York City, sun blazing, not a cloud in the sky – perfect weather for a parade! The turnout is estimated to be twenty-percent higher than last year, a number that would surely please even the finicky Emelius Cartwright.

  W: You’re right about that, Mark. And where better to celebrate his extraordinary life than right here on Park Avenue?

  M: The celebration isn’t just on Park Avenue. In the whole city, and in other cities and towns all over the world, people are holding festivities for Mr. Cartwright’s birthday. Hundreds of restaurants and private vendors have lined the blocks around us, offering dozens of different foods and products. Even Emelius Cartwright T-shirts!

  W: Unlicensed Emelius Cartwright T-shirts. One has to wonder what Mr. Cartwright would think about that.

  M: (laughter) You make a good point, Wilma. But more importantly, it’s truly inspiring to see how much this amazing man has affected so many people.

  W: Especially in today’s world, isn’t it refreshing to see millions of people, from different creeds and cultures, embracing some good?

  M: Indeed it is. Here come the floats, behind the Emelius Cartwright High School marching band!

  W: Naturally this first float is the Emelius Cartwright Honor Society, and each of the twelve members is dressed as Emelius Cartwright from a different part of his life.

  M: The Emelius Cartwright Honor Society is one of the most exclusive and prestigious clubs in the world.

  W: And behind that comes the Emelius Cartwright High School marching band!

  M: You sound like you’re repeating yourself (laughter). That’s because there are almost one hundred high schools around the world named in honor of Emelius Cartwright, including one all the way in Accra, Ghana.

  W: And all ninety-four of those marching bands are in the parade today, as well as two-hundred-fifty of their varsity sports teams. They’ll be performing later, of course. Go Cartwrighters!

  M: Go Cartwrighters! Look – here comes the calculator balloon!

  1.

  On July thirtieth, cities all over the world threw parades to honor Emelius Cartwright. Mr. Cartwright has served his community for years as an efficiency expert. In addition to the invaluable service he provides companies looking to streamline, he has solved blue collar crimes, ousted corrupt CEOs, bettered labor laws, and met with dozens of world leaders about how to improve their governments’ wasteful bureaucracies. Two years ago, after a great public petition to do so, Emelius Cartwright was nominated for a Nobel Prize. The public rejoiced that such a humble man could receive the honor. However, the committee infamously refused to grant him one. The committee received complaints, dismissals, even threats – but they stood by their decision, because Emelius Cartwright is the protagonist of Mr. Cartwright’s Ultimate Conclusions. He’s a fictional character.

  An outrageously popular fictional character. There has been a lot of speculation about how he became so outrageously popular so suddenly. Emelius Cartwright’s outward appearance is nothing spectacular. He has the firm, gently dimpled skin of a tangerine. His eyes are dull and grey. His hair is a light color that’s hard to put a name to, so some describe him as a blonde, others a brunette, others a redhead. He is quite smart, but he is not the possessor of the unwieldy intellect that usually accompanies insanity and suicide. He does not live by any long-winded moral code. He succeeds because he determines which of his actions will be best for the largest number of people around him. He possesses the kind of intelligence that defines survival of the fittest. And in the marketplace, Mr. Cartwright is the fittest.

  These theories are not my own. They are all over the Internet, the news, and even the academic sphere where Mr. Cartwright’s Ultimate Conclusions are in heavy debate in philosophy and ethics classes. Everyone seems to be overlooking a simple fact: Mr. Cartwright is so popular because he was written to be popular.

  To the people who wanted Mr. Cartwright to win the Nobel Prize, he is real. Sometimes fiction is the only reality that people can handle.

  Emelius Cartwight is an efficiency expert. His outward appearance occasionally stymies those with narrow parameters of what an adult should look like. People perceive him as very smart, but Mr. Cartwright understands that brains don’t mean anything if you sit on them all the time. He gets things done. He adapts to his surroundings with an ease that a cockroach would admire.

  There has been an incredible amount of speculation about why Mr. Cartwright is, as a fake person, so much more effective than a real person. Anyone who’s bothered to think about it has a theory. Some note the contrast of his emotionless demeanor and dry sense of humor. Others see his ageless face and physical averageness, not too fit, not too fat, not too quick, as his most appealing facet. Most speculate that his seemingly ruthless decisions, his refusal to allow sentiment to blurry his thinking, his firing of the lazy single mother in Book Two, as a highlight of the kind of leader the world needs, instead of the kind of leader the world wants.

  It is not new. There have been characters like Emelius Cartwright for a long time. Of course Emelius Cartwright is likable, despite his chilly exterior and calculating thoughts. We know that deep down, he’s just doing what he thinks is best. What more could we want from him than to be the best man he can be?

  The biggest draw of Emelius Cartwright, in my opinion, is that he always has a plan.

  2.

  I remember what the world was like before Emelius Cartwright. It was most of my life. My father was a civil engineer during a formative time in our metropolitan’s development. I used to set up my blocks next to his drafting table in the study and build town after town. I learned even at that young age that for every brick, there is a plan. If engineers do not choose the best materials, the best shape, and the best builders for each project, then the society literally collapses. I kept building well after my peers had passed off their wood blocks for remote-control cars and handheld video games. For a long time, building was the only thing that interested me at all, and I experimented with different media: wood, metal, plastic, sand, paper, toothpicks, cups. My favorite game was to throw all of my building materials in a box, close my eyes, pull out twenty at random, and build a bridge.

  It was as formative a time for me as it was for the suburban landscape where I spent those years. I learned that every building, overpass, or laid pipe meant long days and late nights of calculations and recalculations. My father used the same calculator for his entire life. He didn’t need or want any of the advanced models that do all the hard work for you.

  My father never relied on a computer for anything. For him, computers were the beginning of the replacement of humans in the workforce. He was a stubborn Luddite, convinced that his way was the best way. When personal computers made their first appearance, he resolutely refused to try one. His mind was as good as any computer.

  I, however, realized the potential that computers have for streamlining the process. They can retain all the information you need in a small disc that can be loaded on any computer, anywhere. No more unwieldy portfolios dragged onto the train, no more rolls of blueprints lugged from site to site, no more cursing if coffee or cigarette ash falls onto a plan
one just spent hours preparing.

  On the verge of my entering high school, it was announced that there would be a computer science class open to juniors and seniors. My guidance counselor recommend that I, though an incoming freshmen, be allowed to take the course. The teacher agreed. When my father found out, he was dead set against it. He insisted that there was no need for me to conform to the social pressures of technology. He was sure the school would stifle my creativity with the ASDF keys.

  I was sure he was wrong. It was the only time I’d ever disagreed with my father, and I learned that even the people we respect the most are full of wrongness. When he died suddenly two weeks before school began, I learned that he was mortal, too.

  THE PLAN

  Graduate early.

  Enter school for computer engineering.

  Join low-level firm as IT employee.

  3.

  Math is nonpartisan. The same cannot be said of language, which is full of historical bias, or even psychology, which is subject to change based on indiscriminate factors of nature and nurture. Math has always made more sense to me than anything else. There are no exceptions in Math. There are only rules. Math treats all parties with equal justice. Math can only be your enemy if you don’t know how to use it.

  My father’s death was mathematically inevitable. He was crushed beneath a falling bag of cement on the job. His mercenary crew had a spotty safety record, but he was unable to hire his regulars, as they had moved to better-paying jobs in states with a lower price of living. It was in the middle of an economic downturn, and the government wasn’t interested in renovating perfectly good structures. But my father had to take the job, because his calculator told him to.

  Inevitable. Almost predictable.

  I enrolled in the computer class without incident. With some planning, a number of phone calls, and the stroke of a few keys on my father’s old calculator, I was able to obtain an early graduation at the age of sixteen. Thanks to some well-placed exaggerations I began teaching a basic computer class around the same time. I was tall and well-spoken for my age, so, coupled with some remarks about my baby face, my lie was accepted. I taught at the community college for two more years while taking engineering correspondence courses. As a result I earned a degree by eighteen, and immediately enrolled in a computer engineering program at a university upstate.

  “Faith moves mountains, but only knowledge moves them to the right place.”

  -Marie Curie

  WELCOME TO HAVERFORD COMMUNITY COLLEGE.

  You are about to begin an education that will last the rest of your life.

  Here at Haverford, we believe in you.

  What do you want to do? You can do it.

  What do you want to learn? You can learn it.

  What do you want to become? You can be it.

  It starts here, with a two-year degree. At Haverford COMMUNITY COLLEGE, it’s all about you and your dreams.

  “Impossible is a word found only in the dictionary of fools.”

  –Charles Lindbergh

  4.

  Opportunity is not a specter that appears at random. To any awestruck person who asks of a success story, “How did they do it?” The answer is always the same: hard work. This should not come as a surprise. Success is achievable to a person of any intelligence as long as that person works hard. In fact, it is often more achievable to a person of average intelligence, as that person learned at a young age that hard work was necessary. An above-average intelligence person may rest on laurels or natural talent until it’s too late.

  Emelius Cartwright has the rare combination of above-average intelligence and self-motivation. This is one of the many things we have in common. Our backgrounds are very similar, so it’s understandable that one might get us confused, though I am real and he is not.

  Straight out of graduate school I found a position in the IT department of a moderately successful company. I worked beyond my contracted hours and acted perfectly professionally, but still others were promoted ahead of me and it seemed there was nowhere for me to go but sideways. I realized that it was because the company was not engineered correctly. I worked hard, but it was against dozens of other people who were slowing me down. One would think that working with computers, being so enmeshed in math, would have enabled me to achieve the success that I had calculated years earlier when I decided to take the 11th-grade-level computer class. But in the environment, it was impossible. I had expected some inefficiency and mismanagement when I applied for the job, but not as much as I uncovered upon taking it.

  If you’ve ever started a job with optimism and found it quickly worn away, and the numbers show that you probably have, then you know what I mean. However I tried to clear the air of toxic influences, there was always at least one subterranean cubicle monkey poisoning everyone’s work by dismissing ideas, undermining decisions, and second-guessing research with unscientific statistics borrowed from the newspaper’s weekend supplement.

  It was difficult to stand witness without doing something about it. Since the days of playing with blocks under my father’s ankles I had attained the hardened focus and self-discipline that most in my generation lacked. As early as grade school, I noticed that there are some people who grind the natural forward progress of the hardworking world to a halt. They create error under every stone they turn. They have no functional place in the machinations of working life. They are junk parts that should be removed and discarded.

  Occasionally, on behalf of the business, I intervened. It was easy for someone in my position, with unfettered access to every company computer, to alter the situation just enough to highlight the incompetence of certain employees. There are so many factors in any business transaction that adjusting just one or two, like the wording of an email, can send the situation into a tailspin. I never acted out of selfishness or spite; absolutely not. No one has ever accused me of such shallow attributes. I could see that the structure of the business was disrupted by these few employees, and that their removal would ensure the safety and efficiency of the machine. The adjustments were noticed, and though it was not discovered that I was the impetus, the employee in question was able to explain his way out of the problem. I did it more than once. As my employer continued to give these people the benefit of the doubt, I began to wonder if my employer’s computer needed a little adjustment.

  For some time, I was hopeful. I thought that these people would be violently uprooted. Their rot was spreading through the rest of the company. But no one wanted to make that unpopular decision. The rotting roots grew deeper. It began to affect my health. My appetite disappeared, but I gained ten pounds. A rash erupted on the back of my neck that I picked to infection. My number of sick days doubled. I knew that if the situation remained unaltered, my decline was as inevitable as my father’s.

  I made up my mind. One night after a particularly grueling day, I went home, took out my father’s old calculator, and ran the numbers.

  2009.02.11

  To: Linda Turdbucket

  From: HRdept@theoreticals.com

  Mr. Ramirez found that the power cord for the microwave had been frayed. He’s not sure what caused it yet, so we’re unplugging all electronics in the break room until we figure out if it’s a problem with the circuitry or the microwave. We don’t want another fire to happen.

  Afternoon popcorn parties are temporarily on hold until further notice :/

  5.

  Do you want to know one of the habits of the much-coveted successful people? When there is a problem, a successful person stands up and says, “I am the solution.” And then a successful person does something about it.

  My covert efforts to free my company of the burden of inefficient and detrimental employees was not enough. I realized that every business in the world was likely struggling with finding the right human parts for their human machine. A company is a system, just as a bridge or a highway is a system. Often removing just a few of those variables gives other variables a new pu
rpose, and suddenly the system is functioning like new. It’s frequently difficult for those inside the system to identify the problem. It’s not unlike a delicate surgery. As soon as I founded Final Solutions, I handed myself the scalpel.

  Final Solutions was the name of my company. I quit my job immediately and used the year’s worth of wages I’d saved to fund my beginning. I did not need much: a pen, a pad of paper, my kitchen table, and my father’s old calculator. I could have done without the kitchen table, if necessary, but it was already there, so I used it.

  I spent my first week researching companies from the yellow pages. I wanted to call the companies who were most likely to use my service, rather than blindly call all the companies in alphabetical order, or, heaven help me, randomly. Though I was confident that I had made the right decision, I still felt some trepidation speaking to people on the phone. I have never been much of a people person, and the feeling is mutual. As an IT specialist, I was expected to be unsociable and unlikable. My co-workers only approached me when their computers were on the brink of death, and so I was saved a large amount of busy work. But as the president and sole employee of Final Solutions, my ability to make people talk to me would determine my success. I was sure that I could do it if I tried, but I was also sure that I didn’t want to try.

  I picked up the phone and did it anyway.

  6.

  Before I do anything, I run the numbers. If something is mathematically possible, then it can be done. A calculator has never lied to me, not even my father’s old one.

  When I began Final Solutions, before that first terrifying phone call, I made a plan. What could go wrong, what would go wrong, the most efficient way to handle disaster, the kinds of people I needed, how much I should pay each one, what would motivate them, and the sequence of each step, including alternate sequences should an expected event happen out of sequence. By the time I began, I was ready for any surprise. Surprises were in the plan too.