Chapter 2: Questions and Answers

The story of Anders Askeland is a fascinating one, perhaps because he was born with a righteous confidence that was unrivaled by any figure in any mythos in history. What separated him from Narcissus is that his belief in himself was earned. He began his entrepreneurial adventure in Norway when he was four, selling chocolate to other kids that he got for free from his parents. He made a killing—but was reprimanded when his business was discovered. From there, he decided to take things more seriously. By the time he was seven, he was financially independent.

Anders wasn't interested in the money. He did what he did because he thought it was unavoidable. He was convinced that if the universe was deterministic, it had determined he must be a success. And without a doubt, he was a success. By the time he finished his studies, he had enough money to buy his university. He decided it wasn't worth it. The weak and unwise were afraid of him, and the rest wanted to follow him. Nobody knew what his end goal was, and what he would do once he reached it.

By the age of thirty, Anders had built Antler Industries from the ground up. He hired people he thought were capable, not those whom he liked. He ran his company effectively, not kindly. He was honest, but blunt. Nobody liked him, and everyone respected him. I didn't meet him for the first three weeks of my job, as he was flying around the world to meet with powerful and influential people. Of course, none of these people were as powerful or influential as he was.

After my first day, I had tried to meet with Amahle once more—to ask her what she meant and what she wanted me to do, but I had no luck. It appeared that she had more important matters to attend to. In that time, I had worked on selling products to clients. As expected, I was doing well—so well, in fact, that I had been asked to meet with Anders. The slack-jawed faces of the developers when they heard let me know this was a big deal.

“He asked for you directly?” one questioned.

“He doesn’t ask. He says. He directs,” another corrected. The developers were prone to drama and exaggeration, most likely because, despite their important work and envious paychecks, they had no clue what they were doing and who they were doing it for. They were bored.

“I suppose I was directed to meet with him then,” I added, trying to stop an argument before it happened.

“Well, good luck.” They both smiled, content in their boredom and safety. Perhaps their feelings were wise. It’s never a good idea to meet the man upstairs.

I exited the top floor of Antler Industries wearing my tailored suit and my sky-blue tie. This was my first time seeing this floor—where only the boss worked. He had an assistant, but they stayed on the floor below and had to sprint up if a delivery was to be made. It was an extravagant space, the interior embroidered with gold and silver and a wood that was worth even more. While I walked across it, I thought how much of a waste it must be. He was rarely here, and yet he demanded what only pharaohs asked for. I was envious.

When I knocked on his door, a booming voice rang out.

"Come in." I followed his directions and stepped foot in his space. He sat on a great throne. Behind him was a window that showed the entirety of the city, a view that would have scared many if they got too close. Anders sat next to it, facing me. He wasn't afraid of what was behind him.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," I said. He locked eyes with me, his gaze sharp and critical. I resisted the urge to look away.

"Yes, I imagine it is," he replied while looking off. "I hear you have been doing excellent work. Excellent." He went silent, looking off at nothing. "I wanted to speak to you, Nathaniel."

"I'm happy to talk," I replied. "May I say, your office is more beautiful than I imagined." He smiled, not yet meeting my eyes again.

"You are good at flattery. But I'll tell you now—there is no need to flatter me. Everything I make is beautiful. I appreciate that you feel comfortable saying it, but it doesn't change what I know." Anders took a deep breath, which must have been two times the air a normal human could inhale. "Can you guess what I wanted to speak about, Nathaniel?" He was using my name consistently, taking his sweet time with his words, and controlling the conversation. I had never felt that way talking to someone.

"A new product? I just finished working on the phone. The devs seemed happy with it." I knew this wasn't what he was aiming for, but I wanted to remind him I was an asset.

"Let’s talk about Amahle Imada," he said, turning his head in my direction. I felt a chill. Not knowing what he thought was his strength. More often than not, I wagered, people told him information before he even asked for it. I didn't break. I wanted to, but I didn't know enough to be guilty.

"I've been trying to get in contact with her. I assumed she was busy," I replied. He stared at me, his olive eyes unmoving. I wondered if he was actually seeing me or if I was simply another wall to gaze at.

"Yes, I know why," he said. "Amahle is indeed busy. Do you know why I made her the COO, Nathaniel?" He waited, but not long enough for me to conjure an answer. "You may have noticed that she is young, more so than all the others that wanted the position. She reached her position because, just like you, has something that this company lacks."

"Lacked," I corrected.

"No, Nathaniel. Lacks," he commanded. "You have been here a short time, and your work has been satisfactory. But when you were hired, I wanted someone who was too clever for this company. I wanted someone who was built for a different industry, an industry built on subjectivity. How did you sell your suits and dresses? By being logical? No, you succeeded by appealing to the weakest side of the consumer. The ego." He finally took his eyes off me, so I was allowed a look of annoyance. "My company thrives because we have the best products, and it's not up for debate. It's objective. It's truthful." As condescending as his words were, I could tell he wasn't even considering me when he spoke.

"What about Amahle?" I asked.

"What about her?" He retorted. I didn't know if he had already moved on or if this was a game.

"What do you want her to bring to the company?"

"Amahle is intelligent, but unlike you, she cares about transparency." I hid my contempt at the statement, but he was right. "I hired her because transparency is no one's first instinct. I won't have this company be stagnant. She is a constant hurdle for my employees to work around, which is what I want." He paused and stood up, his size dwarfing the city in the background. "She has yet to meet my expectations, but I'm sure she will." Even though his words were hopeful, I was worried.

"Why has Amahle been busy?" I questioned. He strolled to the window, looking down at the street. He knocked on the glass a couple of times, making a slight ringing sound. Then, with a sudden wave of strength, he broke the glass with a punch. The air gushed in and I instinctively backed away from him. I wasn't afraid of heights, but I was afraid. Anders turned back toward me, his face composed and impossibly reasonable.

"Watch," he suggested. I didn't know where he wanted me to direct my attention, but I suddenly saw the broken window begin to fix itself. The glass rippled, as the hole Anders had created filled itself in. Within five seconds, it became a perfect window once more. Anders never looked back at it. He stood still, waiting for my inevitable curiosity.

"Nathaniel," he said. "This is just one way our technology will out-compete the rest. This is what Amahle is working on, and why I hired her."

"But what is it?" I asked. "Is every window alive? What about this door?" I began pointing around the room. "What about your chair? How does it work?"

He looked at me softly. "Nathaniel, you aren't the most savvy tech mind in this company. It's not your job. Why do you need to know?" He waited for an answer, and I knew he wanted a good one.

"You haven't told the developers," I replied, calming myself down. "That means that you aren't confident of something." My mind raced, trying to come up with his reasons. "Whatever it is, you know that as soon as it's on the market, it's free game. Any company will be able to figure it out. But you're going to have to release it sooner or later, and every day is another risk for a leak. So you want me to be the one to pitch the idea," I concluded, feeling victorious.

"My oh my," Anders grumbled. I could have sworn the floor began to shake at that moment. "I do not lack confidence in my business, Nathaniel Hensley."

"I didn't mea—"

"I brought you here because I know you can succeed," he continued. "There is a key difference between doubt in myself and confidence in others. I can see you're sharp, but it seems you think too lightly of me."

"No, I wouldn't say—"

"It's either that or you think too highly of yourself," he interrupted once more. "Is that not how this works? You assume to know me, I assume to know you." He sat back down, though it didn't do much to calm my nerves. "As for everything else you said, it is more or less true. I am giving you the chance," he paused, "to pitch this idea. As you have seen first-hand, it is unlike anything you have ever sold. This means that it has the highest potential of any product we have."

"Right," I muttered. "I can see its potential. I think it would be better, perhaps, if I knew what it was," I added. Anders paused, as if going through the steps in his head. Then the most important man in the world laughed; a deep, full laugh that may have confused atheists on the streets down below.

"I suppose you're right! It must be so confusing to you, but it's not as complex as you might think. The process to make it was, but you don't need to know all the nitty-gritty." With a swiftness only matched by excited youth, Anders stood back up. "It's much too boring to explain in here, so why don't we go on a walk?"

"Okay," I responded. I didn't know why everyone at the company liked explaining things on walks, and I was beginning to worry that he might ask me to steal something too.

"Fantastic, let's get going!" He exclaimed while swiftly donning his jacket. "I always want to see the city when I'm here. Come on now," he added while standing next to the window. It took me a moment to process his words. Maybe the oxygen was thin up here, forty-something floors up. Next to him was now a glass elevator, doors open.

"Wait, where are we going?"

My adrenaline rushed as we descended to the ground in a see-through box. I didn’t show my nervousness, but I did let out a laugh. Anders didn’t say a word. He stood still, looking out. Echo City was, if one cared for quality of life and technological prowess, the best city in the entire world. This was due in large part to him. I wondered if he considered the city his, or if it wasn’t up to his standards yet.

Once we landed, Anders Askeland and I stepped out onto the corner of 7th and 49th street. The sidewalk, usually bustling with citizens like huddling insects, was clear. I followed his direction, quickening my pace to keep up with his long strides.

“Did you have any peculiar dreams when you were a child, Nathaniel?” Anders asked.

“Peculiar? I suppose I wanted to go to the moon. Is wanting to be an astronaut peculiar?”

“No,” he replied without skipping a beat. “When I was a child, I had only one grievance. Anything I did would not last forever. Permanence was an illusion. It did not provide me solace that everyone else suffered the same fate, just like a meteor destroying humanity is not better than a bullet killing one. All I dreamt of was that whatever I did, it would last.”

“That is peculiar,” I replied. Anders crossed the street as the light turned. We entered a public park, kept to the finest detail. Here, I was reminded that others lived in this city. Though they had probably never met him, the strangers we passed stayed a respectful distance from Anders Askeland instinctively. All throughout the walk, I had the distinct feeling that this park, this city, was manicured. I had been living here for weeks now, but never had I noticed the wide walkways or the tall archways. It was strange.

“Early on, I also realized that I could not solve this dilemma on my own, as much as I wished to. Thus, Antler,” he said with a small gesture. I stared at him. Antler made everything, from cars to medicine to the most dangerous of weapons. For him to summarize its reason for existence as something so pure, so simple, I could hardly believe it. However, Anders Askeland was not known to lie.

“Is that the technology you’re introducing now?” I prodded. He paused, as though he had heard something out of place.

“Nathaniel Hensley. Charismatic agent, over-achieving, overconfident, clever son of a bitch.” He looked at me, straight-faced. “That’s what I first heard about you. That was the report. I can agree with the first part, but I’m hoping you can prove the rest to me.”

“Maybe not the very last part.”

“Even the last part.” He stopped talking and smiled. I wondered how often he smiled. It was an action that only appeared as a coincidence to a being as focused as he, a momentary misfire in his path toward his destination. Then, as quickly as it arrived, it disappeared. “That is the new technology. It is the gift of eternal wonder, of awe immortal.”

“It’s an algorithm?” I asked. His face showed disappointment, just like Amahle’s had. I was beginning to question my constant questioning.

“Such a broad term, Nathaniel. Saying yes would mean I lump my invention in with a program that wins games of chess. How about this?” Anders waved at the surrounding garden. “If we consider these plants as intelligent, we must also say they can solve problems. This venus fly-trap, say, can count better than many of my employees. It is quick, and its mistakes are rare. It is limited, but it can solve problems. However, it cannot do so forever. If it is damaged severely enough,” Anders wrapped his hand around the base of the plant and ripped it from the soil. He set it back down, its leaves burying themselves in fear. “It can no longer do anything. Its proudest capability is now impossible, all because of a mishap in its internal system. Anything with any importance is fragile, Nathaniel! People have associated these two aspects so much that they have accepted it as unassailable, as something good! ‘Life is only worth living because it is finite.’ These are the words of one whose brain is split between reason and joy!” Anders stopped himself and looked up. “I do not blame them. For most of our history, it would have been impossible to do what I have done.”

“So the window earlier. The new phones, they’ll repair themselves?” I asked. Anders looked back, his eyes meeting mine.

“They will have the capability. Finally, something will have the capability.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you as someone who would make something so depressing,” I thought aloud. For the first time, Anders looked confused.

“Depressing?” He blinked, silent, as if words escaped him.