Awakening, 2nd edition (50 page)

Innocent or not, the speech is over. Michael walks back.

Alex. Proper, calm, to an extent passionate, believable. And huge. He ’s wearing a shirt today, which doesn ’t outline his muscles as much as the T-shirt he wore a day ago. Still, had he decided to drop the smile, he ’d be quite intimidating. Not that he would ever do that. He ’s such a nice man, this Alex. A c aring and wonderful human being. When two of his fellow workshop participants disappeared, he was the first one to sound the alarm and the major force behind all the rescue efforts. Only someone very ungrateful would not remember that. But we are grateful. We remember . . .

Robert produces a pssst sound. What’s that? Wow! Clark is openly anxious. Looking at him you ’d think he ’s about to participate in the voting too—and with no chance of winning . What ’s gotten into him? Things have never been smoother in this room. Meanwhile, Alex is done. It ’s Alan ’s turn now isn ’t it? So why is Chris getting up? Ah, of course, another break. Again, no polling, no consensus -building. The man in charge said ten minutes, so it is ten minutes. No objections. And why would anyone object? He ’s our facilitator after all.

Back to the seat. The last speech is about to start. Alan. Like most of us , the boy has changed —perhaps to an even greater degree. But whatever ’s been eating him, he ’s doing an excellent job at hiding it during the speech. The speech is all about the future —and so is he. You look at him and you think, this boy, he ’ll go far. Only these dark circles under his steel eyes seem out of place. Plus he is not as jovial, not as likable as he was just two days ago. Otherwise—He’s done already? Nice. You would never think that twenty minutes have passed. A very engaging performance. A true rarity today.

That’s it. The speeches are over. Clark looks as if he ’s about to do something really outrageous, like yell or pass out. His assistants share his nervousness. What ’s the matter with you guys?

The clock shows three. We’re on time. We must be real good.

“Ladies and gentlemen, ” Chris announces resonantly. “The voting of the century is about to begin. With your permission , I ’d like to remind you of the basic rules. Each of you must vote. You have to write your name, followed by the name of the person you ’re voting for. Self-voting is not allowed. Whoever receives the majority of votes automatically becomes our fully supported fearless leader. Remember, each vote is extremely important. Does everyone have paper? Does everyone have a pen or a pencil? Is everyone ready? Then let the voting begin!”

Papers begin rustling across the room. It’s time!

Stella shot her right hand up.

“Just a second please, ” she said, her voice ringing sharply .

Out of the corner of her eye, she notice s Clark ’s face. Clark smiling with relief.

“Is there a problem?” Chris asked.

“Yes,” said Stella, getting to her feet. “There ’s a problem.”

In dead silence she walked to the central table.

“And was there no better time to discuss it than right now?” Joan questioned with a dour smile. “Like after we vote? Or perhaps an hour ago?”

Stella shook her head gravely.

“Regretfully, an hour ago would not have worked. The most appropriate time for this discussion is right now.”

“Well,” said Michael, “if this is the best time, we ’re listening.”

“Thank you. This won ’t take long. You all remember, of course, yesterday morning. Thanks to that malfunctioning gas tank , you all had to spend hours searching for us instead of acquiring invaluable knowledge this workshop was supposed to give you. I want you all to know that Robert and I truly appreciate your efforts.”

“This is an odd time for thank yous, ” Chris muttered dryly.

“There’s always time for thank yous, ” Stella replied with a smile. “After all, as soon as you realized that we had gone missing , you found time for a rescue mission. We ’re truly grateful and want you all to know that. But unfortunately, we didn ’t get around to thank ing one person in particular, who certainly went an extra mile trying to help us. No offense to everyone else, but this person deserves a very special thank you.”

“Who and what are you talking about?” Paul asked with a great deal of suspicion in his voice. “How about being more specific?”

“I’m talking about the man who made it possible for Robert and I to spend a night out in the open instead of staring at these walls. He was also generous enough to think about the others , too, and so gave everyone a solid reason to go for a ride. There were only three things he had to do to make that happen. First, he had to make sure that a certain powerboat had only enough gas for a half-hour ride. Second, he had to take the walkie-talkie away from that boat. And lastly, he had no choice but to slightly damage the fuel meter on that boat. Not too much damage, just enough to make the indicator always show a full tank.”

Stella quieted, enjoying the moment of ringing silence and undivided attention. Now she really had them all.

“We assume that you ’d agree with us—it would be really rude not to thank this person publicly. After all, he sacrificed his personal time for the wellbeing of others.”

“Do— do you have any proof, ” asked Ross, his voice suddenly hoarse.

A calm response came from Alex.

“I’m sure they do, if they’re making these sorts of accusation s. Someone ’s about to find himself in a tight spot.”

“On the other hand, ” Stella pondered out loud , essentially ignoring both the question and the answer, “it is obvious that this person has deliberately chosen to stay anonymous. We don ’t know his motives for doing that, although we suspect that it has to do with his extreme modesty. This person has had so many opportunities since then to come forward, and yet . . . we all know that nothing like that has ever happened. Which leads us to believe that this person doesn ’t care for cheap popularity. And we, the humble objects of his kindness , are willing to respect his choice. There ’s only one thing we ’re not willing to see . . .”

She smiled sweetly, her eyes moving from one silent face to another. Then the smile vanished from her face.

“ . . . and that’s to see him winning, ” she finished in a strikingly cold tone.

Now a different Stella stood at the table . The Stella who three days ago was telling everyone to play fair now had eyes flashing with malice .

“And we’re not going to let him win, ” she said firmly. “I want to be very clear —we know for a fact who this person is. This a slightly imperfect crime. But we ’re going to keep silent about it, if someone else wins. After all, what do we care? But, if the majority of the votes go to this person, we will make his name known and show the proof. Right here and right now.”

She looked firmly at Ross and for some reason he dropped his eyes.

“Moreover, there ’re witnesses in this room who are willing to confirm our claims. There ’s enough proof and you will all see it. And if , after seeing it , everyone still decides to go on, ignore the crime and call this person the winner, we—Robert and I—won ’t recognize him as our leader anyway. We all know what this would mean. This person will never become a winner. That ’s all.”

For a few moments the room was quiet. Then Chris coughed loudly.

“Don’t you think calling it a c rime is a bit much?” he asked. “I— I ’m shocked. Just like everyone else here. I still can ’t believe it. But a crime? A felony? We were told there were no rules, and taking a walkie-talkie away is not a crime. Same goes for that meter. It ’s a powerboat we ’re talking about. You ’re making it sound as if it was a plane.”

“The meter—” Stella began.

Then Michael’s voice interrupted her—for the first time ever.

“The walkie-talkie part may not be a crime, ” he agreed , ignoring Stella ’s objecting gesture. “But Stella didn ’t give you the whole story. Certain things have happened that make the whole boat incident look very innocent. Things that any court would consider a felony. Especially since there ’s no shortage of motives.”

He quieted for a moment.

“And no shortage of witnesses.”

Now every face was stunned.

“What are these things ?” Paul asked finally. “I don ’t like the sound of it.”

Michael shook his head.

“The people who were involved know perfectly well what I ’m talking about. But just like Stella and Robert , I ’ll only speak out if this man wins. Besides, some people in this room have already figured out what this is all about.”

“Perfect.” said Brandon . “Just perfect . That ’s exactly what ’s been missing. Mike, are you sure these are two different people? Your guy and that walkie-talkie monster.”

Michael shrugged.

“I don’t care either way. If there are two of them , at this point they should both be avoiding winning at any cost.”

“Okay—now what?” Paul asked sourly.

“We vote,” replied Robert who had remained silent until now. “I don ’t remember us cancelling the voting.”

“Yes,” Michael said. “We vote.”

Suddenly he raised his hand.

There was a white piece of paper in it, a piece that had not been there just a few moments ago. Michael held it up in the air for a second, somehow turning its virgin whiteness into the center of everyone ’s attention. Then, in silence, which had become a most prominent element of the day, he put the paper on the table in front of him and quickly wrote two words on it. His fingers folding the paper methodically, he crossed the room and put his white piece of paper on the central table.

“I’m done, ” he said turning back to face others.

“Monkey see . . .” said Paul.

Without finishing the sentence, he wrote his own couple of names and delivered his paper to the table. The example was set. The rest was a matter of execution.

Brandon came, treading heavily, Joan arrived , smiling, then Ross, stroking his head . . . The last person to put his paper on the table was Alan. On the way back he sharply raised his head and looked at Joan. She was already putting on a nice proper smile, when she suddenly realized that he wasn ’t looking at her. He was looking at Alex, who sat right behind her.

Now it was over. Eleven votes lay on the table.

“Anyone?” Chris asked quietly.

“Why don’t you do it, ” replied Robert. “You ’re sitting right by it. Plus, it ’s kind of your turf anyway.”

No one objected. Chris slowly approached the table.

“How do you want me to read it?”

“The same way it ’s written, ” Robert said, speaking for everyone again. “Who and for whom.”

“All right. Then you just keep counting.”

“Don’t worry, ” said Brandon , his voice tired. “It ’s not like there are five hundred of them.”

Chris swept the notes together. Then, having apparently changed his mind, put them back to the table.

“Go for it,” said Paul. “Don ’t keep us hanging.”

Chris suddenly smiled and unfolded the first paper.

“Kevin,” he announced. “Voting for Alex.”

He picked up the next sheet.

“Paul. Voting for Joan.”

Joan shot a grateful look at Paul.

“Chris—” while pronouncing his own name Chris for some reason coughed.

Everyone was waiting patiently.

“Chris,” repeated Chris. “Voting for Alex.”

“And the score is now two to one in Alex ’s favor, ” Paul commented.

For whatever reason, he looked very happy.

Chris kept reading, not paying attention to his words.

“Stella. Voting for Robert.”

The next paper took him some time to read.

“What?” Paul asked. “Found another one for—” he caught the prickly glare from Alex and broke off.

Chris finally managed to read the note.

“Ross. Voting for Alex, ” he said. “What handwriting !”

Ross produced an abashed smile.

“Michael,” read Chris , meanwhile.

The room plunged into silence.

“Voting for Stella, ” Chris read with a trace of surprise in his voice.

There was even more surprise in the look that Stella gave to Michael. The next paper appeared in Chris ’s hand.

“Alex,” he stumbled. “Voting for Chris.”

“Mutual respect is a great thing, ” remarked unrelenting Paul.

“Brandon. Voting for Robert.”

No comments followed this time.

“Joan . . .”

A somewhat silly smile appeared on Ross’s face.

“Voting for Alex.”

Paul’s cheerfulness was gone.

“Alan. Voting for Michael.”

Chris read the note again.

“Didn’t we—” he began.

“Let’s count them first, ” Stella said with significance. “It ’s everyone ’s own business who to vote for. Regardless of what others have said.”

Notes rustled in Chris’s hands.

“Robert—two. Stella—two. Joan—one. Alex—four. Both Michael and I have one vote. That ’s where we stand.”

Everyone turned to the Alex, who sat at his chair like a stone statue.

“Well,” Chris said, “it sounds like congratulations are—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish—Alex raised his palm and shook his head.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked , making Chris frown. “You ’ve introduced a rule yourself and now you ’re ready to throw it away?”

His gray eyes were looking expectantly at Chris. Chris was noticeably upset by his own forgetfulness.

“You’re right, ” he admitted gravely. “My head ’s been spinning lately . . . Does anyone want to transfer votes?”

“I do,” Stella replied. “But first, Mike, tell me, why did you vote for me?”

“Ah. So it’s okay to ask th e se sort s of questions, ” cheered up Paul. “Ask away. I also have a question or two but I ’ll wait my turn.”

“Because,” Michael said, paying no attention to Paul ’s remark, “when it comes to experience, potential and all that jazz we ’re all good. We would all do. But not everyone here would be able to make sure everything happens according to the rules. What ’s worse, not everyone would want it this way. You can and you will.”

“Thank you,” Stella said in all seriousness. “It ’s very flattering and I mean it. But if you don ’t mind I ’ll take advantage of the rule. I know for sure that Robert won ’t let us down.”

She turned to Chris.

“I transfer my votes to Robert.”