Awakening, 2nd edition (43 page)

It’s been four days already . . . Four days of being locked up in this hole! Four days of—o kay, let ’s concentrate. It ’s time to concentrate and think.

Joan crossed her room impatiently. Apparently, the shock had worn off, since she was able to think of nuisances like this. And a good shock it was. To find out after four days of scheming and power play that all of this ha d been nothing but a huge set -up? That the stakes are not just high, but unimaginably, horrendously high? That it ’s not about winning at some important but nevertheless “Who cares after all ” workshop . Not about becoming the fake leader of a fake group, hoping that something good will happen to you back home. Oh, no.

As it turns out, it ’s all about something entirely different. Something big, something really big. Big and real and tangible. It ’s about the birth of a powerful conglomerate, about giants from different industries joining forces and creating a new behemoth to conquer new markets. It ’s about a new pyramid and—most importantly—about the place at the top of this pyramid.

Do you know what it really means, the place at the very top of a pyramid? Do you have any idea? The pyramid ’s vertex is not just another step up. It ’s the step up. It ’s the ultimate prize that only some dare to dream about and even fewer get their hands on. It ’s worth all other steps combined. It ’s the single thing that makes the existence of the pyramid possible. Foundational bricks can be replaced. Middle layers—ah, the middle layers—they are even more replaceable than the countless bricks, although of course we don ’t want them to know this. But the vertex is a different story. It gives everyone a sense of purpose. It makes them believe that someone truly cares. It doesn ’t just crown the pyramid—it is the thing that holds it together.

These Clarks and Eds . . . they never cared about teaching us anything. From day one their job had been to help a dozen powerful companies to select a leader who will head their new joint venture. A young leader —bright, talented and hungry, capable of taking good care of the new enterprise. Everything they ’ve told us was simply a cover -up for their real goal.

“ . . .Using your methodology . . .” So that’s how they make the choice in cases like this.

Whenever you read in the papers about mergers and all sorts of joint ventures , you can ’t help but wonder, how do they pick someone to run this new thing? How do they decide who ’s more important, who ’s in charge? With the kind of egos involved at that level , how do you expect them to make the right call for the newly created entity? Well, what do you know, apparently there ’re experts who can help out with that challenge. Perhaps it ’s even a small niche industry. An industry of consultants, of independent judges who help with making the call and see to it that the decision sticks.

We’re not the first ones to go through this. We ’re not the last. Yet in one aspect we ’re unique. We know why we ’re here. And we ’re not supposed to. It ’s the cornerstone of their notorious methodology. The lack of knowledge. The natural behavior. The ultimate ignorance that is bliss and the key enabler of their approach. But it ’s too late now: we know.

And that’s why we keep this knowledge to ourselves—who knows what Clark and c o would do if they found out. And that ’s why we had that pointless, tiring, endless, circular, give-me-a-freaking-break discussion there at the pier.

All those things we said back there . . . We talked about everything. About new realities. About lack of time. About responsibility. About “Can someone explain to me what this joint venture would be doing?” About voting. About timing. About being set up. About being screwed by Clark. About being screwed by our management. About simply being screwed. And again about responsibly. And again about lack of time—a horrible lack of time. As if by spending an hour yammering about it you’d end up with more time. And yet we kept talking.

Because while listening to all this blabber, while listening to these slogans, while participating tirelessly in the discussion , everyone kept thinking. Everyone kept calculating. Everyone kept modeling. Because the times of blessed ignorance were gone forever. Now you had to think and decide—do you really want this ? And are you ready for this? And would you be able to pull this off? And would you end up in a place too high to fall from and still make it in one piece? And , most importantly—what are you chances? And if you ’re in, if you do want it, how can you, darn it, get what you want? There ’s only one chair at the top. Only one. And there ’re eleven of us . . .

But if you don’t want it, or if you think that your chances are slim, who do you tie your horse to? Who are you going to carry on your back, on your shoulders, sweating and cursing , to the finish line? Who are you going to wager on?

And we talked, and talked, and talked . . . Although you have to give it Michael—he kept silent. Alex boomed, stern Brandon talked, Chris, as usual, was trying t o be in charge and take control of the debate, Robert was dropping his usual sort of straight -to -the point sharp comments, Stella was eager to go and fight for something (it looked like she wasn ’t yet sure exactly with whom and for what), Kevin, obviously was chewing everyone ’s ear off with his moral values remarks, Alan was objecting gloomily to . . . well, to everyone, actually. And Ross was absolutely unbearable—he was just making everyone sick with his , “Let ’s look for the real leader ” nonsense.

But Michael kept silent. Of all people, he, the one who had organized the gathering, the one who had been behind the only real set of rules we had so far, he kept silent. And he was push ing this to the limit : speaking no word, making no sound —just listening, and listening, and looking at the faces—some of them quite red—and just not talking. And he pushed it to the point where he was explicitly asked to speak up by several people. Because not hearing his opinion on a matter like this , it was just . . . well, it just didn ’t feel right. He ’s a rotten bastard, he ’s scum of the earth, he ’s a pig, he ’s all that . . . but you still want to know what he thinks.

As it turned out, he did have some thoughts to share. And once he had shared th o se thoughts the argument was over. Although it wasn ’t rocket science, the thing he said. It was a slam-dunk. Yet no one had the guts or brains —or both —to go for it . Until he did.

You’re right, our world has changed, Michael said, his words as crisp and unhurried as ever. But not in the way we ’ve been talking about this. It ’s not about fake or not fake . I t ’s not about being set up or not being set up. It ’s much simpler than all that. Up until a couple of hours ago everyone was playing for himself. We all know that. All the way until 4:00 p.m. today we had one law : the Law of the Jungle. Now, whether we like it or not, this is no longer true. We ’re all in the same boat.

All we need now is to pick the helmsman amongst ourselves. Nothing more. We have only twenty hours or so left until the gong sounds. And we don ’t have time anymore for silly games and childish notes. We simply don ’t have that luxury. The real work begins and it begins now. And the most important thing to keep in mind, is this: if we fail and end up with no leader, it is quite possible that our CEOs and presidents will simply send a new set of folks here. We ’re good, but not that tough to replace.

We have a system already in place and there’s no good reason to change it. In fact, there ’s no single plausible reason to change it and no time left for that even if we wanted to. What we need now is simply to use the same system for our real elections. Put it to use to make a real-life choice. And for those who truly care about their career , this choice may become critical. Because nothing ends tomorrow, as we were told. Tomorrow everything just begins. And it ’s about time we stop all the talking and give everyone a few extra hours. To think. To prepare. To decide. So that tomorrow everyone of us will make a right choice.

And as we think and cast our votes tomorrow, we’d better choose someone who ’s up to this challenge, who ’s capable of dealing with it, who ’s not only qualified but who is also honestly willing to lead us and who we will follow with no hesitation. You could almost hear the hidden yet well-articulated message in his words: “You ’ve got to choose me. There ’s no one else who can do it.” And that ’s what made the effect of Michael ’s next phrase even more shocking.

As for me, he said, I’m only going to vote. I withdraw my candidacy.

“What do you mean, withdraw?” asked a completely confused Brandon .

“Just that, I ’m out. I ’m not competing for this prize anymore.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re out?”

“Yes, I am,” confirmed Michael.

This was such an obvious move. You play modest, you pretend to step into the shadow s , you say you ’re not interested. Power 101. A few minutes of group persuasion and he would come back, good as new, ready for the challenge. Nice try.

But as it turned out, he wasn’t playing modest. He even had a story to back his sudden turn. Can I lead an organization like this? Definitely. Am I sure that I ’d be doing a good job at it? Absolutely. Do I need this now? Not at all. This position is pure administration. It ’s business leadership. It ’s deal -making. It ’s a necessity to comprehend fairly well what ’s going on in ten completely different segments. It ’s an overnight transition from what I ’ve been doing for the last five years to something entirely different. And in all honesty, it is not something I need right now. I ’d be much more delighted to be responsible for the segment that I ’m in today. This is my turf and I know it. Don ’t get me wrong —this is an extremely appealing opportunity. And at some point in my career I might become very interested in a position of this sort. But not yet. Not now. What ’s critical for me today is to make sure we don ’t pick the person who ’s been behind all these coincidences . That ’s my priority.

He was open as usual, convincing as usual, engaging as usual. And as usual it was nearly impossible to resist trusting him. And so our list of candidates became one person shorter.

Then it shortened further. To tell you the truth, I ’m not thrilled about this either, announced Paul. Even less than Michael. I ’m not an admin istrator. Not a business leader . They ’ve been telling me that for years, while shoving more headcount down my throat and asking me to do more. But whoever wins, you better put me in charge of all the technical stuff. And don ’t try making me manage idiots, even if they are your pals.
Especially if they ’re your pals.
All right, I ’ve said it. Now you know my vote can be bought and you know what to buy it with.

That was a joke of course. A half-joke, at least. But it had one word, one key word , that defined everything that followed, that still defines what ’s going on.

My vote can be
bought . . .

Because of that word, an invisible, inaudible marketplace was bo rn right there. A marketplace in which everyone was a buyer and everyone was a seller. And on that note, everyone walked away thinking about trading and about what Michael had said.

Of course, some of us had other things to brood over. I know I did. And that other thing had a name. A short name.

Ed.

And the question was: how to make the best use of that sweet puppy? Elections are important. But there could be more to what they referred to as “methodology .” What happens, for example, when workshop participants pi ck one person while the observers—professional psychologists, mind you—recommend someone else? Is this scenario completely out of the realm of possibility? Perhaps no t. Ed ’s been laboring over his annals for a reason. “A leader has clearly emerged . . .” We don ’t even know ourselves who that is. But they already know. They think it ’s clear and obvious. They do have an opinion. And they will surely provide that opinion to their clients. This information will go somewhere. It will end up on someone ’s desk. It will influence someone ’s opinion. So who cares what kind of agreement we all reached on that pier ? What matters is that the final recommendation has the right name in it.

Which means that tonight’s rendezvous has just become even more crucial. The key thing is to keep him unsuspecting. He ’s not dumb, so most likely he realizes what ’s behind this sudden and passionate romance—and he doesn ’t care. But it ’s imperative that he doesn ’t suspect—even for a second—tha t we ’ve had a close encounter with his precious folder. That would be a disaster and it should be avoided at all cost. The plan for the evening is therefore clear. That said , the few hours left before our date—or business meeting, call it either way, it ’d still be right—should be used wisely. Wisely and with all kinds of precautions. We ’re all going to work together quite soon. And that changes dramatically what is off limits and what isn ’t. Dramatically.

It was at about that moment that Alan emerged from nowhere. That was a very timely appearance. Perfect timing, perfect pl ace—what a winning combination. There was no one around, just like two days ago. And the need for his vote was greater than ever. He had suffered enough, watching all the advances by Alex and Chris and Paul and knows who else. So bring ing peace to his poor soul and get ting him into the right mindset was such a noble thing to do .

But then . . . something unthinkable happened. This was not the same Alan. The Alan of two days ago was gone. This person shared looks with him , and the voice , and the clothes . . . but, boy, was he different. The change that had happened to him was so weird that it even had a creepy air about it.

It seemed at first that it was all her fault—she must ’ve pushed too far and now the poor boy was hurt and didn ’t want to talk anymore. The signs were so typical and familiar. It even brought back for a moment some long-forgotten memories: it ’s the eighth grade again and Sven, scowling, informs her that he ’s fed up and he ’s not going to put up with her dirty tricks any longer. The same tightened lips were present, the same words were spoken reluctantly through clenched teeth and the same steel y eyes were looking gloomy and wistful. None of this was new, all of that had happened in the past and all these eyes and lips and words presented no challenge whatsoever.