by Mark Russo
When I turned my back, the bus had already disappeared. My new adventure was about to start, for real.
While roaming the outside with ghosts and ghouls still wandering in my mind, I almost forgot we had this introductory walk in the EIBM’s building planned five minutes after our arrival. This is me, 100%. I always struggled to remember stuff, or to keep focused on one thing. They told me I have this ADHD thing, like most people I’ve ever met online. Like most people I’ve ever met, period.
I ran to the meeting point, and we toured the place from the inside. I doubt they noticed me running.
Not even five steps later, one of us asked, “Why is this building this big?”
I turned my back to him and realized he was that Lithuanian guy; I overheard him revealing this detail to the other dude he’d been talking porn with on the bus.
Our guide for the introductory tour, Dean Charles Sneider, was pointing here and there, giving us more details about what we were seeing. He addressed the Baltic guy’s question. I learned his name was Matis. “Here at EIBM, we have our own research center and some other divisions. It’s not only a business school. I will tell you more about this in just a minute.”
Sneider was a tall guy, slightly slouchy, and with deep-ocean-blue eyes. I would not piss him off, let’s say. Not intentionally, at least.
While looking here and there, I spotted a good-looking French guy walking close to me, one of my colleagues named André. I didn’t talk to him; I couldn’t even hold his stare. I started sweating. He had a cool designer blazer, never seen another similar. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I hope he didn’t think I was weird already. Did he?
We toured the building for almost two hours, and that equates to a lot of walking. We went through dim-lighted salons, to hyper-technological areas equipped with 3D virtual reality topnotch rigs. I had no recollection of walking that long; my legs were shaky.
“You are free to use all the equipment you saw at any time. You need no permission for it. It’s common knowledge that people your age value their virtual identities as much as their non-virtual ones. We won’t change this here.” Sneider was a knowledgeable person; he knew what he was talking about.
The quantity of stuff they had there amazed me, lots of costly devices all around us. They also had a retinal injector, if you wanted to bring augmented reality to its extreme. Injected lenses grant you the best quality level of immersion, but it comes with a price. It requires a non-invasive surgical procedure to remove them. I never wanted to push myself that far.
Sneider looked at me at some point, probably to check if I was following him. I nodded, unsure if he expected that on my side.
At the end of another thousand steps and ample floors, we stopped in front of a big dining room. I smelled food inside.
“Okay, guys. This is the last stop of our introductory tour. I hope you all enjoyed it so far. We saved the best for last. We are all having lunch together today. Please follow me and have a seat. You’ll find both paper and digital name tags. For visualizing those, please install our embedded app, if you didn’t already. Oh, one last thing before we eat. You’ll find a paper in your EIBM’s email accounts. Please review this evening. Tomorrow at eight a.m., you will have your first class. Be prepared. Okay, I hope you are hungry.”
What was this paper now? They did not assign us any specific task. I had no idea what they expected from me. Were they expecting some kind of presentation to my colleagues? I will improvise something. Was that an invitation to work hand to hand with one of them? I was not ready for that yet. No, I was sure I was not.
While I tortured my brain, we sat at his huge dining table. Probably my eyes were baffling me. They had prepared for us all the food you would imagine. I got myself some meat, mashed potatoes, and something I had no idea what it was. Everything tasted so good. The more I ate, the hungrier I became—a familiar sensation. I looked around and saw the others gulping down that stuff just as fast as me. Was there something with that food?
One girl, I would assume she’s Spanish, made a joke about us eating so much at some point. “I guess you didn’t expect to have your food supply depleted this fast.”
I didn’t find it so much fun, but I giggled to be polite.
“Oh, we expected it, Maria,” Sneider said. “We are all well aware we’re having a few issues with the overall quality of our food, at a global level. Here we want to give you the best the market has to offer.”
I saw Sneider’s point. In most cases, food sucks; it’s chemicals or surrogates. I’d never seen an apple or a carrot firsthand, like those I had in front of me in that moment.
“How do you get fruits and vegetables this fresh at the beginning of fall?”
Matis asked.
“We have a few greenhouses here. Robot personnel handles them. You can ask for a guided tour there any time, Matis.”
They had everything planned. I understood why the tuition was so high now.
“I think the food quality issue, as the media address it, is not something the United Nations take seriously.”
Okay, we had someone willing to show how smart she was.
“Why do you think so, Dorothy?” Sneider asked, his voice welcoming.
“I think no one is interested in this topic. As long as consumers are not complaining, they will be fed sh— poor quality foodstuffs.”
Some of us chuckled, trying not to be too loud.
“Customers complain only if they think something is wrong. We are used to this. It has its benefits. You know that wherever in the world you are, you’ll feed on something disgusting,” Tim, the American, added.
This time, we laughed.
“I appreciate all your opinions. We might also think about organizing a focus group to address the food-quality issue. For now, guys, let’s enjoy our food. Tomorrow, you’ll be very busy.”
While we ate, something peculiar happened. I was taking another huge bite from my steak when a guy approached Mr. Sneider. He looked like he belonged to some technical staff by the overalls he wore. That was my guess, at least.
“We have an issue with a proxy …” he whispered into the dean’s ear.
Sneider stood, excused himself and left the room. Sneider leaving the table wouldn’t have been that worth noticing, if not for that word proxy. That would be the first time I had a weird feeling about the place.
The review I found online, the one I thought to be pure nonsense, came to mind. The guy who went by the name JJ887 in the arena forum stated that EIBM somehow changed those who attended it. Like, their personalities were different after completing this master’s program I was attending. He didn’t clarify further.
I don’t know why, but the word proxy made me think about this. Okay, my imagination ran wild … Better put aside all the crazy. I won’t let some lunatic’s ideas ruin this amazing opportunity. I took another bite of that amazing food. I still hadn’t shared a single word with anyone.
Hours later, I awoke during the night. I needed to drink; I had eaten too much, not anything new. One a doctor had told me multiple times I had to lose at least five kilograms. I always promised myself I would eat a more balanced diet, but I never took that plan too seriously. The quality of the stuff here, well, it won’t help.
I looked around, and I felt at home. I liked it here.
A bright side of attending EIBM was I had this very nice studio apartment all for myself. It wasn’t too big and lay ten steps from the main canteen. Or maybe having food this close was not good? Whatever.
The place is very modern and connected and synchronized with my phone. You know, basic stuff. I can turn off the lights or roll up and down my windows blinders remotely.
I opened the fridge, gulped down some milk and returned to my cozy bed. When I stepped close to the door leading outside, I stopped. I was not sure, but I had the feeling someone was standing on the other side. I focused more, but I couldn’t hear anything worth noticing. I could have checked, looked through the peephole or som
ething, but I didn’t. My eyes were already half closed and doing it would have been an effort.
Good thing I fell asleep after I got myself to bed again.
*****
First day of classes. It took me an hour to get ready. I wore the best clothes I had for the occasion. The cleaning robot ironed my shirt twice; I needed it to be perfect. Then I grabbed the doorknob, let it swivel in the inner part of my hand and I was out.
While walking towards the lesson, I learned that our teachers were all experienced businessmen through my haptic lens.
They all knew what they were talking about; they preferred hands on—DIY or whatever the acronym you like—to theoretical stuff. EIBM granted us the chance to learn by living the business. I noticed my neck was slightly less stiff.
I was unsure if Sneider was a businessman or something else; he didn’t talk much about his background or his past. Maybe I’ll dig into it at some point. He knew for sure how to keep an air of mystery. He slightly intimidated me. We had another huge breakfast, and, a few minutes later, we sat in ample armchairs in this very cozy area resembling a ski lodge living room. The architecture software they used in designing this room envisaged no room for error. Maybe a little corny, but I didn’t mind.
I let my body plunge in those soft pillows, relaxed my muscles and removed my pad from my purse. I wouldn’t take notes with AirWriter or similar embedded apps. Despite wearing my lenses, I preferred to take notes the old-fashioned way.
They had placed those armchairs in a circle, and Mr. Kassalis, the Greek CEO of Cullman Industries, sat with us. He was very tan; he looked like he just left a Caribbean beach. He surveyed the room while giving us a brief introduction to what we would discuss that day.
I glanced at his perfect tie as he immediately put us to test. He learnt all our names by heart; that surprised me.
“So, let me ask you, guys. Did you read the paper I assigned you?”
We nodded.
“Great. What did you learn from it?”
André, the French guy, replied first, very confidently. “Those were financial data. It was very interesting.”
Mr. Kassalis looked at him, “André. Tell me, why were those data interesting?”
“Well, they showed business results, and I find business interesting.”
“Okay. Let’s assume I believe you.” Kassalis’ voice turned mocking. “What would you guys do with those data?”
Silence fell over the room. I really didn’t know what to say. I hoped he didn’t want me to talk.
“We analyze that data, make forecasting, defining budgets. We manage the data.”
Mr. Kassalis smiled and crossed his arms. “You want me to say that was a good answer, Dorothy?”
Everyone looked like they were lost. What was he expecting from us?
“You don’t analyze data. We let software do it. We don’t even look at data.” Mr. Kassalis stood and approached the fireplace. “The paper I gave you was a test. And you all failed.”
More silence crowded the room. I kept my head down, staring at the tip of my shoes.
“Do you want to know what I expected from you guys? Nothing.” Mr. Kassalis stepped away from the fireplace and got closer to us as he smiled. “We always try to find an explanation for things happening to us. We need to create a problem, so we can solve it. At EIBM, we will teach you to stop this vicious circle.”
“I am not sure I get this, Mr. Kassalis,” Dorothy said.
“Don’t worry, Dorothy. All this will be clearer soon. I want you to stop thinking the way you have so far. People think there are different ways to solve business problems, but that is not true. There is only one, and you will learn it here through our discussions and learning-by-doing sessions.”
I must admit it puzzled me. What would that even mean? I thought I had to think more if I wanted to do and learn new things, but we were just told not to.
“Here’s your next assignment. Do nothing. I want to see how you handle that.” Mr. Kassalis smirked.
I had no idea what he was up to. “Can I ask you to clarify on that? Do nothing with what?”
“Surprise me, Matis. Just do nothing until our next meeting.”
I can’t say I felt enlightened after Mr. Kassalis’ latest statement.
“Can we have fun?” Ahmed, the Egyptian guy, asked.
Kassalis laughed. “You see, guys? Ahmed got my point. Have fun, relax, and forget all the problem-solving strategies you’ve learnt to this point. We will create new ones together.”
I looked around to see furrowed faces.
The remainder of the day passed handling some red tape things.
The administration took our pictures, logged our fingerprints, and scanned our retinas for security. They also ran a lot of medical tests. It was boring, but they measured everything—even the rate of my hair growth. They confirmed I’m slightly overweight. The good thing is that they didn’t bother me right away, like all other doctors. I had enough of all that worrying.
“You are healthy, Emma,” the medical professional said. “Whenever you don’t feel well, just come to us. We work twenty-four/seven, with the help of robot personnel.”
I didn’t get why she had to add the detail about the robots, but whatever.
“What is that?” I asked her to keep up with the small talk. I wanted to practice.
“Oh, this one?” She reached for the bizarre gadget. “It’s an epithelial tissue weaver, for closing up wounds and cuts in five minutes’ time. Way better than those stitches they gave me as a kid, believe me.”
I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say, so I looked away.
“Do you have questions, Emma?”
“No, thanks.”
I had a long walk outside afterwards, my breath turning to steam as I exhaled. The air quality was something impressive. I couldn’t smell the slightest hint of smog, not even if I tried.
I had deactivated that app; I couldn’t bear the constant stream of learning opportunities.
I met André on my way back. I said, ‘Hi,’ and he waved back. He’s so cute. I realized I had spoken to him. I was surprised with myself. For one second, I considered talking to him, like in an actual conversation, but I chickened out. You know, that’s me, always fearing the others may judge me. And I have no idea how to talk to people, like my awkward conversation with that doctor proved.
The idea that I should do something for my social anxiety knocked in the back of my mind. I had to mingle with the people here, no way around it. That was the whole point of being here.
I found myself in the woods, wandering through my thoughts that had brought me here. I undid my coat’s top button, my body was too warm. I tried and follow what I thought to be a path and turned my back to be sure I was not getting lost. The absolute silence that embraced these trees and bushes brought me a freshening, invigorating moment.
An enormous squirrel scurried on a spruce trunk and glanced at me while sprinting up.
Then I saw something peculiar. Behind a line of pines was a big hole in the ground. Its shape and depth made me think it was manmade, but I couldn’t understand what its purpose might be. I had no logical explanation, not even after activating TeachMeStuff.
Just before going to sleep, I looked out the window. I didn’t know how, but I was sure something was happening. Sometimes, I get this sixth sense, like sensations.
A few people I didn’t know were in the schoolyard; maybe they belonged in the research center. They walked towards the woods. None of them were carrying torch lights or anything, and it was already dark. What kind of thing was that?
Where were those people headed? Was it some kind of test we would also have to endure at some point? Or maybe that was an experiment, something driven by science?
Despite me trying to see things in perspective, I had another moment of doubt. I considered following them, but I didn’t. I decided to ignore that event for now, pretend it never happened.
*****
Today, I
got out of bed on the wrong foot. My muscles were aching from cramps. I wore my uniform, a pleated blue skirt and stiff shirt, and burst from my room. I had slept poorly; some very weird nightmares had crowded my sleep.
I rushed to the canteen for my breakfast. I had black coffee and a sandwich. Just one, I swear. I must admit the taste of the food relieved me, like it always had my entire life.
I had to focus. An interminable day lay ahead of me.
I took my seat at that petty armchair I used the previous day, and that Spanish girl, Maria, was already sitting in hers.
“Looks like we are both early, uh?” she asked while looking at me.
“Yes. I look forward to what will happen today.”
She half smiled while I opened my pad as fast as I could without adding a single word. I completely forgot to wear my haptic lenses today.
The others arrived less than a minute later. I made no eye contact.
Today’s teacher entered the room last, wearing an ample woolen coat I imagined she stole from some Eskimo. Her stern jaw didn’t move much as she welcomed us to our second day. Her name was Idra Shaktar, and she was from the former Republic of Bangladesh. “Guys, today you will see our DST software for the first time. How many of you have heard this name before?”
“I did once in a podcast about data something,” Maria said, blushing.
Ms. Shaktar waited at least ten seconds before replying to Maria. “Data scraping, guys. This is what we’re talking about.” Ms. Shaktar gestured with the hand donning her haptic ring.
A five-meter-tall holographic spreadsheet appeared before us. I had no idea how many data records were there, but like a lot.
“Please have a look at this,” our teacher commented. “This is the amount of information traffic light sensors on a crowded Paris crossroad generated in the last seconds—number of cars, their brands, levels of noise, and fumes emission, just to name a few. All here. I guess you can imagine all the difficulties a data manager would face in handling these big chunks of data with a traditional approach. As I hope you are already aware, traditional databases fall well short when our goal is to store a large amount of information. Our DST is nowadays the most common and effective way to process these gigantic bits of data.”
