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Authors: Ray N. Kuili

BOOK: Awakening, 2nd edition
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“Twenty minutes per speech, ” clarified Stella. “That should be more than enough to talk about our future plans anyway. Plus we go to bed earlier.”

“Plus this would give us extra time before 5:00 p.m., ” Michael said, smiling subtly.

Stella looked at him thoughtfully.

“That too,” she agreed.

“I don’t mind, ” said Alex, as if they all were waiting for his verdict.

“Fine,” Chris reacted promptly. “If there ’re no other objections, let ’s get started.”

 

 

The draw went flawlessly and quick ly . Although it resembled the previous one, the ease and humor were clearly missing. After Brandon ’s speech , which somehow felt very businesslike , they left for lunch. Peace and happiness returned to them over the lunch table. Only Alan was more serious than usual and Paul wasn ’t livening up the discussion with his bitter remarks.

Stella gave an accurate and jolly description of the night spent in the forest : baked mushrooms, cool air and her acquaintance with a monstrous beast known as a squirrel. Robert kept dropping his comments into her story, making it even more engaging by hinting about Stella ’s adventurous spirit and her persistent attempts to leave him alone in the woods.

Chris shot back with a long story of their rescue effort, inspired, organized and guided by Alex. Despite the soft humor he infused into the chronicle —or perhaps because of it —the story suggested that they were all truly worried about the wellbeing of the two missing people. Alex only laughed occasionally while listening to Chris and , once the story was over, offered his own account, which included the frightening discovery of the abandoned boat and the horrifying theories he and Alan kept bouncing off each other on the way back. In response, Stella dropped her playful tone and in all seriousness thanked everyone for their help and care. Joan requested a story from Alan, but he declined so dryly that she backed off immediately.

By the time they went back, the group mood was a healthy mixture of benevolence and friendly teasing, just like the first day ’s atmosphere. Only Paul and Alan stayed somewhat gloomy.

“It is time, it is time, ” Chris sang jovially. “Who ’s next?”

“You are,” said Brandon . “You were right after me —have you forgotten?”

“Ah, yes,” Chris cheered up , turning around. “The food was too good.”

Paul snorted loudly.

“What?” Chris turned to him.

Paul grinned.

“Don’t try too hard, it ’s all right.”

Chris looked completely puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged perplexedly under Paul ’s prickly stare and headed for the central table that for the last two days had been serving them as a podium.

“No kidding, ” Paul said to his back. “Like you had no clue you were next.”

Chris froze.

“I didn’t, ” he said , turning back. “To be precise, I knew, but it just escaped my mind.”

Paul cracked a slanted smile.

“Whatever.”

“Things have changed here, ” Stella whispered, leaning towards Robert.

Robert returned a scarcely noticeable nod, his eyes on Chris, who looked like he was still considering a proper response. The Chris of yesterday would ’ve snapped back by now. Finally he made his mind and a wide disarming smile decorated his face.

“I know it’s tough to believe, but really, I had no clue. We ’ve had enough to worry about today.”

“Really?” Paul wondered quite naturally. “And what exactly did we worry about?”

“I think you know.”

Paul looked genuinely confused.

“No I don’t. Would you mind enlightening me?”

“Rob and Stella, ” Chris reminded him, demonstrating angelic patience. “They were missing this morning. We were worried about them. We went looking for them. At least some of us did.”

“Ah . . .” Paul slapped his forehead loudly. “Sure! That mysterious disappearance. Of course, I remember. You ’re right, some people were worried. Not me of course, but some were . Now , remind me, what does that have to do with you?”

Chris’s patience went down from the level of an angel to that of a human.

“I’m not sure I ’m following you. What exactly are you insinuating? What ’s bitten you?”

“What’s bitten . . . There ’re some bloodsuckers fluttering around. Relax, I ’m not insinuating anything. Just don ’t give me this crap about you losing your sleep over them going AWOL. Who was that guy who kept telling us this morning to sit tight and do nothing until tomorrow? And now you ’re the who one saved the day. If it weren ’t for you, they ’d still be eating their mushrooms.”

“Listen—” Chris lost his last ounce of patience.

“That’s enough, ” said Michael in an even voice. “Paul, what ’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” muttered Paul. “I ’m just fed up.”

“With?”

“With all that . . . Never mind. I ’m good.”

“Good,” Michael showed no interest in further clarification. “Then why don ’t we all listen to whatever Chris has to say. Otherwise twenty minutes won ’t do it.”

Paul muttered something under his breath, but stopped at that.

 

 

Chris began with some power chords. In three or four wide strokes , he painted a vivid picture of the breathtaking changes towards which his company was heading with unstoppable for ce thanks to his bold, restless and nearly heroic efforts. A whole swarm of managerial buzzwords flew in: “New approaches ,” “A mazing results ,” “Fantastic breakthroughs ,” “Calculated risk ” . . .

“He’s at his best, ” whispered Stella.

“He always is, ” Robert said with a trace of irony.

But three minutes down the road, something went wrong. Some odd unfitting gaps began appearing between well-crafted sentences. Shining metaphors grew dim. Some miserable , “Uh . . .” and “Eh . . .” crawled in. Once another two minutes had passed it became apparent that Chris, indeed , was not at his best. His smooth measured speech turned into jerking, clumsy storytelling worthy of a podium-frightened amateur. Chris was breaking off constantly, looking for words and sometimes even stopping and pondering perplexedly for a few seconds. No, he was not at his best. Rather, he was giving his worst performance to date .

The contrast was so stunning that ten minutes into this misery the audience, represented by Alex, lost its patience and asked for some explanations.

“Are you all right?” he asked sympathetically, almost softly. “What ’s going on? Is it because of Paul?”

Chris made no attempt to put a good face on things. Instead, he halted his painful monologue and , with an air of relief , explained himself.

As it turned out, Paul had nothing to do with it. Disagreements and conflicts are part of life, especially if you ’re a manager, so no, it ’s not about Paul, who , by the way , didn ’t say anything really bad . . . Chris ’s soul was tormented by something else —namely by a serious imperfection of the otherwise powerful and flexible voting system—an imperfection he didn ’t see until today. He had the first hunch about it yesterday, but today ’s events made it even more apparent and to an extent frightening. The concern caused by it was so grave that it was impeding Chris ’s ability to deliver a smooth performance and he felt really saddened by this fact.

“Cut to the chase,” Alex urged him. “What is it?”

It was obvious that he was eager to be done with this unforeseen hurdle as soon as possible and move on. Perhaps it had just dawned on him that by the middle of the fourth day he was the only one who hadn’t presented yet. Any further delay was threatening to make his chances really slim.

Chris, to his credit, was not trying to stall the process. He quickly and eagerly shared his concern. Despite its significance , the imperfection was rather simple : a ll votes were equal and that was wrong .

Upon hearing this, Paul just had to intervene .

“Did I get this right?” he asked suspiciously. “All votes are equal, but some are more equal than others?”

Chris bit the bullet with no hesitation and in the same open manner. Yes, to an extent , that ’s exactly what he is talking about. Excessive equality could potentially be as harmful as inequality. If you do an honest job picking a leader and you base your choice on your real impression instead of some farfetched agenda , you have to trust the person you vote for. You have to believe in him. You should trust him more than you trust your best friend. More than you trust yourself. You should want to follow him and feel completely assured that he has your back. If there ’s no trust, how the hell can one be a leader? And once you trust your leader , you are willing to give him something—your skills, your time, your knowledge—and expect that he will use them well and bring you closer to your common goal. For instance, when you trust your government , you give it your personal money by paying taxes and you trust that it will do something meaningful for you in exchange. Well, this may not be the best example, but you get the idea.

Now, think about what you can give to your leader here, in our situation? Only your vote. You ’ve got nothing else to give. You have no other way of putting your trust into your candidate. But think about it for a moment. Doesn ’t it strike you as odd that you are actually stopping halfway? Yes, you ’re giving your vote to this person, but on your terms, in what essentially is a “My way or the highway ” sort of arrangement. Perhaps the time has come to add the first amendment to our little constitution. Wouldn ’t it be more logical to empower your candidate to do whatever he wants with your vote? He can keep it or—since he also has the right to vote—he can choose to pass your vote to someone else. Someone he trusts.

When Chris finished, the first reaction came from Paul.

“By the way, ” he said, “I pay my taxes even when I don ’t trust my government. Trust or no trust —either way you ’re going to get screwed. So you folks better think twice.”

“Exactly!” snapped back Chris. “So why don ’t you think and let others think , too? It doesn ’t take much brain s to badmouth something . . .”

“Doesn’t take much brain s , huh?”

“Actually, none.”

Paul had already inhaled a lungful of air ready to retort with a bitter answer, when Kevin suddenly broke in: “What does the father of our constitution have to say about this?”

“You talking about me?” clarified Michael. “I ’d rather not add an ‘amendment .’ Too farfetched.”

“What’s so farfetch ed about it?” Chris asked defensively .

Michael looked him straight in the face.

“Everything, ” he said. “From encouraging people to form alliances , to a straightforward sabotage. It ’s too tempting and you know it. If you want to fine-tune the process, add more rounds to the voting. You get five candidates after the first round, then you go for the second one. You keep doing it until you have only two left. Another round—and you have the winner. With your proposal , this will be getting out of control.”

“True,” Joan ’s voice sounded, vibrating with unusually angry tones. “We ’ll be getting out of control. But do we want any one of us to have control?”

Michael turned to her, but she was already looking away, speaking to everyone else.

“I personally like this rule. In fact, I love it. And , to my recollection, no one here has the veto power, although some of us like to behave as if they do. So why don ’t we test this voting process right here and right now? We need to make a decision, so let ’s vote. How about that ?”

“As you wish, ” Michael said indifferently.

“Just make it a secret ballot, ” Stella asked, smiling sweetly.

Chris shook his head .

“We’ve got no secrets here. Should we discuss more before we vote?”

Joan waved him away.

“There’s nothing to discuss. We ’ve been yammering for a week now. So who ’s for adding this rule?”

And her hand flew up swiftly.

 

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