Awakening, 2nd edition (26 page)

“Now you’ve confused the heck out of me, ” Brandon said. “The printer is in the library —w hat difference does that make?”

“It actually does, ” Alex replied merrily. “He saw someone leaving the library holding a printout.”

“And I take it, ” said Michael coldly, “that I was that somebody.”

“Precisely!” Alex rejoiced.

Kevin shrugged guiltily.

“Michael, I didn ’t mean to accuse you of anything. It was just an example that came to my mind. I was only trying to say that starting a witch hunt would be a huge mistake. Who knows how far it might take us. You understand, right?”

“I understand, ” Michael looked at him, pondering over some thought. “I certainly do.”

He turned to Alex.

“And why exactly have you decided to share this extremely valuable information with all of us?”

Alex folded his hands across his chest, which immediately made him look like a WWF wrestler.

“Because there ’s more. Kevin, why don ’t you give them the whole story? The same way you told it to me. Really. Tell ‘em how Mike entered the library, how he left it ten minutes later, how he was holding that printout, how he went towards my room, how he looked back . . . First time it sounded better. More dramatic, you know?”

“More dramatic . . . ” Michael repeated after Alex, his eyes focused expectantly on Kevin.

Kevin in turn spared Alex a displeased look.

“Alex is exaggerating . I was simply talking about facts. Facts that meant nothing by themselves. And I said literally nothing beyond what Alex has just told you.”

“He’s right, ” Alex confirmed. “But somehow it sounded bad. Bad enough for everyone to hear it. And I would like —in fact I insist —that any conversation like this one take place in front of everyone. Or doesn ’t take place at all.”

“Kevin, dear, ” Joan asked with a hint of suspicion in her sweet voice , “h ow did you know that Mike spent exactly ten minutes in that room?”

Yet another heavy sigh followed her question. “I ’m in deep trouble ” was stamped clearly over Kevin ’s face.

“There’s a window next to the library that overlooks the porch. I was sitting there when Michael entered the room. I was just taking a breath of fresh air, all right? This place has great fresh air.”

“Hmm . . . and how did you know he went towards Alex ’s room?”

“I happened to be leaving the balcony around the time he was leaving the library.”

“You mean, by that time you ’d had enough of that great fresh air, right?” Brandon said.

“Yes,” Kevin answered with visible irritation. “Are you trying to insinuate something?”

Brandon shrugged.

“Nothing. Just facts that don ’t mean much by themselves.”

“Okay, that’s probably enough, ” concluded Alex. “I get the feeling that bringing Kevin here was not such a great idea.”

“You’re right, ” Michael agreed. “It wasn ’t.”

Alex turned abruptly to him, his lips tighter than usual. It seemed that he was about to say something when Ross ’s voice interjected , “Mike, can you tell us what you were printing? If it’s not a secret.”

Michael didn’t respond immediately.

“Do I have to answer?” he asked, finally.

“Of course not, ” Ross said, smiling. “But we ’re all friends here.”

“Then I won’t.”

Ross stopped smiling.

“Unless . . .” Michael ’s eyes went around the table, “everyone wants to hear it.”

“Not me,” Kevin said quickly.

Chris glanced at him.

“It’s your call, Mike. Really.”

“Why would we even care?” Brandon said. “It ’s a very odd conversation to have anyway.”

“Glad to hear that, ” Michael looked at Alex, keeping his poker face. “Then it seems like the topic has played out.”

Alex nodded silently. Michael turned to Ross.

“By the way, it ’s funny that you wanted to know what I was doing there.”

“Why?” Ross replied dryly.

“Because you could have just as well asked whether I was there at all.”

Kevin’s long face became even longer.

“Michael, what are you talking about?”

Michael smiled.

“The same thing you were talking about. The facts.”

He rose.

“I was at the library, printing a map. Anyone want a drink? I ’ll be back shortly.”

He glanced briefly to his right and headed to the bar. Alan, whose heavy thoughts had faded to some degree in light of this conversation, followed his look. There, in the corner, two tables away from them sat Ed, writing something hurriedly in his gray notebook.

Today’s speeches were quite engaging. All different and yet all the same. You could tell—this was a gathering of professionals. Who , just like their speeches , are all different and yet all the same. And all —to the last one—are children of this age. Products of this society. The society in which every single leader wants to be liked. Wants to charm. Wants to seduce. And never, under no circumstances, intimidate. They ’ve been trying so hard that at times they looked like politicians during election season.

It hasn’t always been this way. Times have changed. Gone are the days where a person in charge was first and foremost a preacher of The Idea. Be it the idea of royal rule or of world domination, but it was there—the cornerstone of true leadership.

Back in those days, today’s speeches would ’ve sounded ridiculous. Clumsy. Pathetic. Who would cho o se to follow a man who behaves like a lackey? A ruler who seeks approval of his every action? Oh , please! The man leading a crowd must inspire people to follow him —n o, not even him —The Idea. This is what he has to do, instead of kissing -up to the crowd. A society not bound by The Idea is nothing but a pack of apes , t he Bandar-Log : a bunch of screeching monkeys, where each member cares only about filling his belly, scratching, getting laid and showing everyone around that he is somehow better than they are , or at least different. And this kind of society spawns matching leaders. They don ’t understand that a leader who seeks money instead of power is a joke. Many of the most powerful people in history were not the richest people of their age. They were playing in a different league. They had something that ’s better than money : power.

And even the Bandar-Log need a true leader.

That was the topic of that memorable history class many, many moons ago. The good-natured stout teacher spent quite some time—and to his credit, without becoming boring—driving home his idea that there was no such thing as universal human values. The enormous variety of world cultures, he said, demonstrates how illfated any attempt to identify such values would be. What we take for granted and see as the most natural way to behave would not necessarily seem the most natural to others. Common values are a myth, he said. Behaviors—yes .
I nstincts—yes. But not values.

And he was throwing us example after example. Parental love? Ha! May I remind you of Sparta , where weak newborns were thrown off the cliff as assets, not valuable for the state. Or think of China where just two hundred years ago , parents—with great hope, mind you—were lining up their young boys for surgery that would make imperial eunuchs out of them. And that—listen to this number!—despite the fact that only one out of eight would survive that cruel barbaric procedure.

Nowadays, he likely would ’ve also mentioned places where some parents proudly take pictures of their three-year -olds wrapped up in kid-size d belts packed with fake explosives.

Gender relationships? Ha-ha! Monogamy, polygamy, matriarchate, patriarchate, open marriage —and that ’s just for starters. In one country you can ’t get married, in another state you can ’t get a divorce, in the third country one spouse is the property of another . . .

The famous self-preservation instinct? Ha-ha-ha! I think the word “kamikaze ” would suffice . Again, nowadays he would ’ve had a fresher example to make his point.

Religion? After the emergence of states, where the only truly practiced religion was atheism and the spared churches were turned into desolate museums, you can ’t seriously bring it up in this discussion.

You have to realize, my friends, that ethics, morale, the very concepts of good and evil—all of this varies from culture to culture, from nation to nation, from age to age. Only physiology stands unshaken.

He was noticeably enjoying himself telling us these simple truths , and by and large he was right. Almost right. But there was that little “always ,” and so I had to interrupt him. And it became a complete moment of truth for him when I said that a universal common human value does exist. It holds this title alone, but this makes it even more important. What is it? he demanded, ready for a quick and easy victorious argument. And I told him.

The lust for power.

It’s universal. It is as old as mankind itself. It ’s been present in every society, ranging from the prehistoric cannibal tribe to the humongous modern state. No matter what it looked like, its essence has always stayed the same. And this essence depend s neither on time nor on geography. Power is the common denominator that has been at the foundation of all societ ies , since the first humans walked the earth.

He argued, he argued fiercely, but something in his words and tone was giving him away. This time he didn ’t believe his own words. He was arguing because he had to. Curiously enough, he was the only person in the class who had fully realized what I said. After all, he was a history teacher, and a good one , too. The students in the class were already beyond the point of no return—all brainwashed, all halfway to maturing into ripe Bandar-Log . They were listening to our argument and profoundly agreeing with him, with his words abou t the inevitability of democracy in any society. While he, speaking that sweet lie, was wholeheartedly agreeing with me.

Chapte r Five

“I didn’t know you smoked,” Stella said, extending her hands towards the fire.

Robert shook his head slightly.

“I don’t.”

“Then how come you have a lighter with you?”

“Because I don ’t venture into the woods without it.”

“But you didn ’t know we ’d end up in the woods, right?”

“Right,” agreed Robert. “I didn ’t know.”

Stella looked at him with growing irritation.

Her short brownish hair had almost dried by now and fluffed up rebelliously. No matter how hard she tried to sleek it down, in the absence of a comb it stubbornly refused to be tamed . And this Robert! He looked at her efforts without a shade of sympathy or even a smile.

“It must be really hard, ” she said, finally.

“What?”

“To be a superman all the time. Every day, every minute. Even the real Superman worked shifts.”

Now he would just have to protest. Now he would have to say that he was in no way a superman. He may even get embarrassed. But instead he said , “Not really. It was only hard at the beginning.”

“You get used to it?” Stella didn ’t even try to hi de her sarcasm.

“Yep,” Robert agreed again.

Stella quieted gloomily, staring into the fire. All of a sudden she felt an itch to snort, make a face, stick her tongue out and call him some names she hadn ’t used since middle school. And after that , it ’d be good to get up, head for the forest and disappear in the woods. Yes, just like that! So that he would get to his feet , too , and trump behind her.

But no, he won’t trump. Not this one. She had almost drowned and he had jumped into the water. Had he swam to her two sec onds later , he would be sitting here alone now, w hile she would be floating face down over there.

Instead of pretending to be Lara Croft, she should’ve put the life jacket on, just like he ’d said. But it was so tempting to show him that he wasn ’t the only tough one here. Well, she had definitely found the best way show him that . . .

What difference does it make that you can swim four styles if you can ’t control your right foot any longer ? The shore isn ’t too far away, an d the water is not as icy cold as it had felt at the first contact . . . But some cold monster keeps dragging you to its lair at the bottom of the lake and there ’s nothing, nothing you can do to fight it off. Only flounder helplessly and marvel at the enormous stupidity of your thought: “Just don ’t scream . . . Don ’t scream!”

And then there was t he sound of a splash behind her, and a few long momen ts later he was swimming next to her. Not teasing, not saying “Told you so ,” not saying a word. Just helping, helping . . .

Yes, had it not been for his help, she’d be dead by now. And it would ’ve been so incredibly dumb , to have come to this absurd workshop and drown like this , on some random leisure trip just three hours away from home. And , above all, to drown like an utter fool, trying to prove who knows what to who knows whom , for who knows why.

The story of her life: proving something to someone . . . To herself, to others . And what for? What for? Had she drowned now, everything she had been trying to achieve, everything she had been pulling the countless all-nighters for—everything would ’ve gone in vain and forever stayed unachieved and unaccomplished. And the funny thing is , no one would ’ve cared. No one but Mom of course. She would ’ve never recovered from this.