Fishbowl

by Matthew Glass

  ‘You buy a mansion first.’

  ‘You really take your client stuff seriously, don’t you?’

  ‘Well, it’s like the question Chris used to ask – what’s the most important thing you can be doing …’

  ‘I thought you didn’t believe in that question.’

  ‘I thought you did.’

  Andrei frowned. ‘Do you remember when I said maybe we should stop?’

  Ben shook his head. ‘Stop?’

  ‘Fishbowl. Remember when we were thinking about the 4Site deal. I said, you know, maybe we should just stop.’

  ‘Instead of allowing advertising? I kind of remember. Vaguely. Yeah, you did. You said maybe we should stop.’

  ‘Your folks had just put in thirty thousand dollars. And you said, “What’s going to happen to that?”’

  Ben laughed. ‘Did I?’

  Andrei nodded. ‘If your folks hadn’t put in thirty thousand, what do you think you would have said? If you had nothing at risk.’

  Ben gazed at him, wondering why he was asking that. ‘I don’t think you should have stopped, Andrei.’

  ‘That’s because you’re worth twenty billion dollars.’

  ‘No. That money’s ridiculous. I don’t want it. It’s way too much. I’m going to have to find a way to give it away.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Andrei. ‘It’s crazy.’

  ‘What’s going on, Andrei?’

  Andrei shrugged. Ben continued to watch him. Andrei gazed down at the Bay.

  ‘You know, there’s only one thing I’m really proud of,’ Andrei murmured.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘After Denver, when I gave the data. Everyone was telling me I shouldn’t. But I did.’

  ‘You told me that was just a business decision. The night I told you I was leaving the company, that’s what you said.’

  Andrei shrugged.

  Ben watched him closely. ‘Why did you do it?’

  ‘It was the right thing for the business. I think we showed that, eventually.’

  Ben didn’t say anything. He felt as if he was in a session with a client.

  ‘I don’t know. I guess I thought it was the right thing to do. I was surprised James didn’t.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Ben. ‘So was I.’

  ‘Chris, you know … I wouldn’t expect anything more from Chris. And Kevin’s Kevin. But I thought James, you know, this big Christian …’

  ‘Well, render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Do what you have to do legally, I guess.’

  ‘Do you remember the shitstorm we had in the Grotto?’

  Ben laughed.

  But Andrei gazed down at the Bay again.

  Ben wondered what was going on in Andrei’s mind. He had been brief and somewhat understated when talking to the crowd on the balcony, but Ben had thought that was just Andrei. The speech hadn’t made Ben think that he was in a particularly introspective or downcast mood. But maybe it was natural to have a sense of deflation after the IPO, a feeling of anticlimax. It occurred to Ben that Andrei, as Fishbowl’s CEO, had probably got used to putting on a façade quite a lot of the time, and that would only get worse now that the company was listed on the NASDAQ and his public commitments would increase.

  ‘At the time,’ said Ben, ‘when you were trying to figure out what to do that night after the bombing, you told me it was because you had a responsibility. You said you had this special responsibility because you had brought Fishbowl into the world.’

  Andrei nodded.

  Ben waited. Andrei said nothing.

  ‘You know, you’re not giving yourself much credit. You have a lot more to be proud of than Denver. Deep Connectedness is real. You envisioned it, Andrei. You made it happen.’

  ‘Yeah, but you left. You left after we started Farming.’

  ‘I wanted to do other things.’

  Andrei shrugged.

  ‘Just think of what you’ve done. Just think of everything you’ve made happen.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t told me to make it a dating site for the mind.’

  ‘I don’t think I actually used that term, Andrei. I think you invented it. Deep Connectedness is a strong, strong force for good. You should be proud of that.’

  ‘I’m only proud of Denver. And the march.’

  ‘Defence of Freedom? Didn’t you meet the Dillerman that day?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Andrei put up his hands with his second and fifth fingers extended. ‘Two ls!’

  Ben laughed. ‘I wonder what he’s saying today.’

  ‘Who knows?’ It had been years since Andrei had worried about what the Dillerman or any of the other 300 would say.

  ‘Remember the Curse of the Dillerman?’ Ben laughed. ‘Don’t worry. He’d find a way to believe you were doing the right thing.’

  Andrei didn’t speak for a moment. ‘I’m only proud of Denver, Ben. That was the only time I stood up.’

  ‘Stood up to what?’

  Andrei didn’t reply.

  ‘Well if that’s how you feel, it’s never too late, Andrei.’

  Andrei looked at him. ‘Is that what you tell your clients?’

  ‘Sometimes.’

  ‘Well, you’re right.’ Andrei nodded to himself. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Listen, Andrei …’ Ben hesitated. ‘You want me to stay around tomorrow? You know, if you want to talk about stuff … I can stay.’

  ‘No. You’ve got clients.’

  ‘I can. If it’s important.’

  ‘No, it’s fine.’ Andrei smiled. ‘It’s good to see you, Ben. I mean that. Don’t worry, I know you’re never coming back to Fishbowl. But we should … you know, we should get together more often.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll buy myself that jet.’

  Andrei stood for a moment longer. ‘I’m going,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ll see you again soon, huh?’

  Ben watched him go. Maybe it was just the aura of the night, but something about the way Andrei marched off reminded him of the afternoon, eight years before, when Andrei had suddenly turned around on the way to Ricker dining hall and marched back to the dorm to turn the first Fishbowl into the thing that would conquer the world.

  Sandy stayed later at the party than Andrei. When she got back to their apartment she found him on the sofa with a set of small, black notebooks scattered around him. The framed napkin from Yao’s had been pulled out of the cupboard where it was normally hidden and was on the sofa beside him as well. Andrei was gazing at the huge TV screen that Sandy had had installed on the wall. He was on the screen, almost life size, dressed in a suit and tie, sitting at the table in front of Senator McKenrick’s committee.

  It was the same part she always found him watching: the part with Senator O’Brien from Rhode Island.

  She sighed. ‘You’re not watching that again, honey …?’

  ‘What did you really think of it?’ said Andrei, not looking around. ‘Tell me the truth.’

  ‘I’ve told you already. You were great. They didn’t touch you.’

  ‘I mean about what I said.’

  ‘I mean about what you said as well.’

  ‘Don’t you think I came across as a phony? A hypocrite?’

  ‘No. You came across as a smart guy who’s built a great business that makes a huge difference in the lives of a quarter of the people on the planet.’

  ‘What about when I said that I wished I could do it without the money?’

  ‘Well, you do, don’t you?’

  ‘Then what am I doing with a company that earned four billion dollars last year?’

  ‘Do you really think that’s something to feel guilty about? Your shareholders won’t.’ Behind Sandy, O’Brien’s self-righteous voice droned on. She picked up the remote control and turned it off. ‘I’ve got something to say.’ She came over to Andrei and straddled him, putting her arms around his neck. ‘You remember how you got bounced into doing this IP
O? Well, I think I need to do a little bouncing as well. Forget Senator I’m-so-self-righteous O’Brien. Here’s something for you to really think about. I think we should get married.’

  He looked up at her. ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘You’re drunk.’

  ‘Uh-huh. Why do you think I’m saying it? Why do you finally think I’ve worked up the courage after all this time? Have you never even thought about asking?’

  Andrei shrugged.

  ‘Of course, it’s only because you’re worth a hundred billion bucks.’

  ‘A hundred and two, actually.’

  ‘Oh, baby.’ Sandy leaned forward and kissed his neck. ‘You don’t know how hot that makes me.’ She laughed and straightened up. ‘Seriously. What do you say, Andrei? Or do I go find myself another fella?’

  ‘Are you sure you want to?’ said Andrei.

  ‘No. After nine years, I’m racked with uncertainty.’

  ‘It’s not going to be easy, being with me.’

  ‘Oh? Something’s going to change, is it?’

  Andrei frowned. ‘You’re saying it hasn’t been easy until now?’

  She stared at him, then laughed.

  ‘I just thought …’

  Sandy wondered if she was making a big mistake. But that was Andrei. He wasn’t big on sensitivity to other people’s emotions. He had other qualities. If you wanted to be with him, you had to accept it.

  ‘I meant it’s not going to be easy with this IPO,’ he said. ‘There’s going to be a whole lot more scrutiny, a whole lot more pressure.’

  ‘So you’ll need a whole lot more support.’

  ‘And you’ll support me whatever happens? Whatever I decide to do?’

  She looked at him quizzically.

  ‘It’s going to get tough, Sandy. It’s going to get really, really tough.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m a pretty tough gal. But I need to know, Andrei. I can support you through anything, but I need to know if we’re solid. I need to know if this is going to be for good. And if it is, then I want to get married.’ She paused. ‘Because I want your hundred billion.’

  ‘Hundred and two, actually.’

  She was silent, looking into his eyes.

  ‘I should be the one to ask if you want to get married,’ said Andrei suddenly.

  ‘What? Now you want to be the male chauvinist?’

  ‘No. I just … should.’

  ‘So ask.’ She threw back her shoulders and made a show of composing herself. ‘OK. I’m ready.’

  ‘In a couple of days.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I’ll ask you in a couple of days.’

  ‘But you know I’m going to say—’

  ‘I’ll ask you in a couple of days. See how you feel then.’

  45

  AT NINE O’CLOCK the next morning, Andrei arrived in his office through a largely deserted floor. People straggled in over the next couple of hours. He worked through his emails, then sent one to Alan Mendes asking him to set up a press conference for the next day. At eleven he went to Los Alamos to sit in on a visual interface meeting. He watched a prototype of a palotl of a 60-year-old, red-haired Scotsman talking in real time to someone in the room. As a joke, the Scotsman looked as if he had been to the party the night before and had knocked back one too many. It was awesome. Scarily, scarily, awesome, right down to the slurred brogue and the reddened veins in the nose.

  Andrei was back in his office when Chris walked in at one o’clock looking deeply hung over. He started talking about the party. He had gone back to his hotel, apparently, with a staffer. Andrei didn’t want to hear. He had had enough of Chris treating the young females of the company like his personal pool. He had had enough of a lot of things about Chris.

  ‘Let’s have lunch,’ said Andrei. ‘You know what? Let’s go to Yao’s.’

  Chris smiled. ‘Yao’s? How long is it since we’ve been there?’

  Andrei shrugged. ‘Come on. For old times’ sake.’

  They headed out of the office and down University. At Yao’s, Lopez was on shift. He hadn’t changed much since Andrei had first discovered the noodle restaurant as a student ten years earlier, only a little heavier and with a touch of grey in the hair. He grabbed Andrei and gave him a hug. Then he ran off to get Tony Yao from the kitchen. By now one of the diners had recognized Andrei and yelled out his name. Everyone looked around. Suddenly someone started whooping. A moment later people were on their feet, applauding.

  ‘Rock star,’ said Chris Hamer in his ear.

  ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a good—’

  ‘Andrei!’ yelled Tony Yao, coming out of the back with his apron around him. He grabbed Andrei’s hand. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’

  ‘It’s fine, Tony,’ said Andrei.

  Tony kept thanking him.

  ‘We just want to eat,’ said Andrei.

  ‘Of course. Come with me.’ He took him to a table at the back and said something to Lopez. Lopez ran off and came back with a screen and set it up around them.

  ‘Private room!’ said Yao. ‘Private dining at Yao’s!’

  Andrei and Chris sat.

  ‘You want usual?’ said Tony.

  Andrei nodded.

  ‘Chris?’

  ‘Kung pao chicken, Tony. Don’t you remember?’

  Tony laughed. ‘You sometimes changing, Chris. Andrei never change. You change.’ He stood beside Andrei again. ‘Thank you, Andrei.’

  Andrei nodded. ‘Don’t mention it.’

  ‘Meal on house.’

  ‘No, Tony.’

  ‘All meals always on house!’

  Lopez came over and poured water as Tony went out to cook their food. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘Just water, Lopez.’

  ‘I think water’s what I need,’ said Chris, smiling ruefully.

  Lopez grinned and left them the jug.

  Chris asked why Tony had been thanking him like that.

  ‘He got some shares,’ said Andrei.

  ‘How many?’

  Andrei told him.

  ‘Good for him,’ said Chris. ‘And Lopez too?’

  Andrei nodded. ‘And the other old-timers.’

  ‘Hey, Lopez,’ Chris called out as he glimpsed Lopez going past with plates for another table. Lopez put his head around the edge of the screen. ‘Why are you still working? Why aren’t you out spending some of that cool dinero?’

  ‘I haven’t sold any shares. I’m not sure what to do yet.’

  ‘Very wise. Got any plans? You could go home.’

  ‘This is my home, Chris. I’m a citizen.’

  Chris stared for a moment, then laughed. ‘Sure you are. And you know what? Hold those shares, understand? This company’s worth twice what they are.’

  Lopez grinned and then disappeared again.

  ‘You shouldn’t say things like that,’ said Andrei.

  ‘Why not? I don’t think the SEC’s listening.’ Chris sat back and breathed out long and slow. ‘Monster of a party last night. What time did you leave?’

  ‘Around midnight.’

  ‘You were never much of a party guy, were you? So how does it feel, anyway? CEO of a two-hundred-billion-dollar company.’

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Fine? That’s it?’

  ‘Ridiculous.’

  Chris laughed. ‘There’s probably only … what? Ten of you, twenty of you, in the whole world. Cool club. The share price is still going up today, by the way.’

  ‘I know. I kind of wish it would stop.’

  ‘You know, Apple was the first company to five hundred billion dollars. How would it be to be the first to a trillion? That would be something, huh?’

  Andrei shrugged. ‘It’s an arbitrary number, Chris. It wouldn’t mean anything to me.’

  ‘Not even as something to aim for?’

  Andrei shook his head.

  Chris watched him. ‘You don’t look too happy. I thought you
’d be, like, heading down to buy yourself a fleet of Ferraris.’

  Andrei raised an eyebrow.

  ‘No, I guess not. Come on, Andrei. Lighten up.’

  ‘Look,’ said Andrei. ‘I wanted to have a talk with you. I’m going to make some changes.’ He hesitated. ‘Chris, I’m going to ask you to be, like, more of an investor.’

  Chris narrowed his eyes.

  ‘I don’t want you coming down to the office any more. Let’s have a more traditional CEO–investor relationship.’

  ‘I’ve only ever been an investor, Andrei. If you wanted my advice, it was there.’

  ‘Chris, we know that’s not true. You were like a member of the management team.’

  ‘Well, maybe you needed that.’

  ‘I’m not saying I didn’t. You did a lot of great things. Fishbowl wouldn’t be where it is today or anywhere near it without your contribution. But I think the time has come for that to change.’

  ‘How long have you been thinking that?’

  ‘A while.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘I don’t know. Does it matter? Tell me, did you give that leak to the Wall Street Journal? About the date of our supposed IPO?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Just tell me the truth.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Did your friend Billy at J.P. Morgan?’

  ‘How would I know? And he’s not my friend, I can tell you that. Not after what we did. Not even letting him pitch.’ Chris shook his head in disgust. ‘So what? You don’t want my advice now? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘I do. But I want to ask for it. I want you to wait for me to ask for it. And I don’t want you turning up like it’s your office. You never wanted a formal role, remember? You said that wasn’t the way you worked. Well, you don’t work here, Chris. You’re an investor.’

  ‘I never said I—’

  Chris stopped. Tony Yao came around the screen with their food, beaming broadly.

  ‘Special treatment,’ said Chris.

  ‘You should come more often, like you used to,’ said Tony.

  Andrei nodded.

  Chris waited until Tony had gone. ‘Well, you’re the CEO.’ He took a piece of his kung pao chicken and ate it. His teeth continued clenching after he had swallowed. He put down his fork. ‘Let me tell you something, Andrei. You would never be where you are if it hadn’t been for me. You would have crashed and burned that first summer if I hadn’t found Eric for you. You guys didn’t even know enough to know how close you were to the edge. If it wasn’t for me, Andrei, you’d be sitting somewhere in someone’s programming department right now, saying, “Oh, there was this great idea I used to have for a website.” Mike Sweetman’s department, probably.’