The Road to Amistad

by Ken Dickson

  “A kind of binary search. Very clever. What kind of results does it yield?”

  “Your passion, best departmental fit and a job function recommendation. The questions and results are tailored specifically for BRI’s needs, of course.”

  “Where did the questions come from?”

  “I met with each manager and produced descriptions of the overall department and individual job functions. From there, I applied a little creative license based on my years of counseling, and finally, I threw in a few questions for my own purposes—always looking to help people, you know.” He winked.

  “I’ll bet.” Knowing him, he was trying to solve a puzzle.

  “I had that young engineering manager help me. Let me tell you, that guy knows his stuff.”

  “Yeah, Conner is something else.”

  “I provided the questions and general concept, and he built the application and the database. We tested it on several volunteers. I swear he wove magic into the code. It’s uncannily accurate. Care to take it for a test ride?”

  “Sure.” I took the iPad from him and began tapping true or false check boxes in response to statements like: ‘Solving a crossword puzzle is more satisfying than pruning flowers’ or ‘In my heart, I really love my job.’ While doing so, my mind became increasingly clear and focused. As the minutes passed, my responses came more from hunches than reason. When I finished, I felt compelled to share my experience with him. “That’s the most bizarre test I’ve ever taken. It seemed like I was answering questions more on gut feeling than logic.”

  “You like that? I’ve been a resilient for a long time. I’m probably more attuned to my subconscious than most if not all of you. I purposely designed the test to pique the subconscious in order to prevent people from biasing the results toward their experience instead of their passion. I’m surprised that you noticed. You’re the first person who has.”

  “When I initially changed, my mind was very clear and free of mental chatter. At the same time, mania amplified my senses allowing me to feel my subconscious at work. After returning to normal, I noticed that I retained that ability to a lesser extent and built upon it over time. As an engineer, I relied heavily on mathematics to solve problems. Now, I rely almost entirely on intuition. I find that I solve problems and brainstorm much more quickly when I cooperate with my subconscious instead of bull-headedly ignoring its subtle cues like I used to.”

  “Very interesting. I’ll want to talk more with you about that later. But right now, I’m curious about your test results. When you finished the test, the data and results automatically uploaded to a cloud database. I can retrieve your personal results as well as analyze everyone’s data statistically using another app.” He took the iPad and opened a sister application. “Hmm, I’ve never seen this before. You have a tie—equal passion for health and the outdoors. You could work in either HR or Facilities, but the application made an ‘executive decision’ that Facilities is the ideal fit for you and the job recommendation is… landscaping.”

  “What? That’s crazy. I’ve been an engineer for over thirty years. My whole life revolves around solving problems.”

  “Things are different now.”

  I thought about the patients I championed at Pinecrest and Gracewood, how much I enjoyed working the gardens with Emma, and how grounded I felt around the new landscaping at her home. He was right. The truth can sometimes be painful, but this time, it was liberating. “Merry, you’re a genius.”

  “By the way, I think you should continue your leadership role for now, but if I were you, I’d follow your passion first chance you get. You might find that it makes a big difference in your life.”

  The next day, Merry arranged a meeting with the department managers in Chandler. He presented an overview of the test and then had each of them download the application onto their laptops and take it. Once everyone finished, he analyzed the results and spoke privately with a few of them, who apparently had some interesting decisions to make. When all was said and done, only one manager opted to change: Erin, the manager of Facilities. Her results showed a compassionate side to her and recommended a position in HR. Although initially puzzled by the results, her eyes gleamed as she recognized a chance to make a difference in the lives of others. Although clearly talented at landscaping, an emptiness in her yearned to be filled, and the HR position was just the ticket. She was anxious to make the change, but we still were only working on paper and needed to test everyone before making any decisions. Merry then asked the managers to assist him in testing their employees.

  By April 1, 2013, the results were in. It turned out that many people were already doing work they were passionate about. Of the ones who required a change, the fits were acceptable, but there definitely were challenges. We approached Matt with the results and good news. He’d softened his stance a bit since our previous meeting, and after seeing the minimal impact to the organizations most important to the investment arm, gave approval to proceed.

  I’d like to say that it went as smoothly as shuffling a new deck of cards, but the truth is, no matter how well the application was written, or how perfect the data looked on a spreadsheet, we are human beings, not machines. In the end, we lost ten people for one reason or another, reducing the headcount to one hundred, which by coincidence was the minimum number of employees I once felt we’d need to make the venture work. Nonetheless, I expected that we’d run more efficiently, doing the same work or more than the previous headcount. As a bonus, the reduced headcount gave Matt a cost savings, something his investors were sure to appreciate.

  The employees who remained accepted the changes eagerly, welcoming the chance to explore new careers. It was a testament not only to the viability of the concept of employing people based on passion, but also to the exceptional precision of Merry’s application. The only remaining task was selecting a new manager to replace Erin. We let the department decide, and they voted almost unanimously for a new hire: Emma. I couldn’t have been more surprised or pleased. Later, I called Merry to congratulate him.

  “Great job.”

  “That was astonishing. I’ve never seen a hive instinct like that in humans before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Aside from losing a few people, everyone works so well together and is incredibly adaptive, able to completely change gears at a moment’s notice.”

  “That’s what this whole project is about: seeing how resilients will live and work together and then building a template from that for societies of the future.”

  “I want to stay. I want to be a part of it. Can I join a department at BRI? Since all of you entered my life, my passion has turned to working with resilients. Besides, I have a strong vision of humanity’s future. What do you say?”

  “I’m not sure that being pigeonholed into a department is a good fit for you. I picture you as a hawk—keeping a keen eye on everything from on high.” That’s funny, equating him to one of those hawks. I wonder if that’s what they are doing with me. “A guide at the side is better than a sage on the stage.”

  “What?”

  “Just something a friend once told me. I don’t know that it really applies, but it just now popped into my head. How about you keep doing what you’re doing, and we won’t worry about which department you fit into? Sometimes, it makes good sense to allow exceptions, just like offering managers a choice. I really value your guidance. I need you doing exactly what you are doing to keep this ship on course. That’s what I’ll pitch to the staff.”

  “Done,” he said, shaking my hand vigorously. I was certain that the staff would have no problem bringing him on board. I’d been concerned for a long time that we might lose his expertise. This was the perfect solution.

  I found more and more that my management style was one of surrounding myself with people who were competent leaders in their own right to ease my burden. Perhaps one day, that strategy would free me to pursue one of those passions that Merry�
�s test had chosen for me.

  Chapter 26

  STAKING A CLAIM

  I removed my baseball cap and wiped the sweat from my brow. A dry breeze cooled my head despite the fact that it was over ninety degrees.

  “It’s a big day today, don’t you think?”

  “Yes,” Conner replied, “but I wish it hadn’t taken so long for it to arrive. I can’t believe the politics and bureaucracy of city government.”

  “That’s all behind us. Once the infrastructure is in place, things will really take off.”

  “I wish they’d show up. I hate waiting,”

  The brunt of utilities was already buried under the road leading to Primera, but weeks had passed before the city approved permits for Primera itself. Finally, survey crews marked the location of critical infrastructure with colored spray paint and stake flags. Now, Conner and I waited anxiously for the long overdue crew hired to dig trenches.

  “While we’re waiting, I’d like to talk to you about something,” I said.

  “Okay.”

  “I want to live in Primera.”

  “We are building sixteen homes. Take your pick.”

  “I was thinking of something like a trailer. That way, I can live here now while we build.”

  “I have a feeling that this didn’t just pop into your mind. You have this all thought out, don’t you?”

  “I’ve wanted to do it for some time, but couldn’t get around my own infrastructure issues: black and gray water, propane, a generator, you know. Living in a trailer seemed like too much trouble. However, it recently occurred to me that I might tap into city services.”

  “I wish you’d told me sooner. I could have made it a part of the plan to begin with. Of course, a trailer isn’t considered a permanent structure. It probably won’t be a sticking point. The utilities, however, will be. We’ll need permits or some kind of temporary waiver at the very least. Where were you thinking of putting it?”

  “Up there,” I said, pointing up the hill, “thirty or forty feet below the big rock. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  “All right, it’s not like we have anything else going on.” He looked impatiently at his watch. “I wish that crew would show. I sure don’t want to burn another day.”

  We walked together up the hill until I turned and faced northeast, looking across the land below the rock. “I was thinking that we’d come off the road here and grade a pad about twenty feet wide and sixty feet long. That should be wide enough for the trailer with the awning extended, and long enough to park my car, too.”

  “We’ll have to run a sewage line to the main gravity one by the homes. The sewage main coming up the hill is a pressure line from the pumping station. Get me the make and model of the trailer so I can download the specs. I’ll see what we can do.”

  On April 22, 2013, Conner called to inform me that it was a go, but he needn’t have. I noticed the front loader set to work on the desert below the rock using recently placed stake flags as a guide. I made my way to the rock to watch the show. It amazed me how quickly the front loader transformed the rocky, thorny desert into a large flat pad, dumping extra dirt and debris expertly into a waiting dump truck. When he finished, the driver killed the engine, climbed down and waved to me.

  “I’ll be right there,” I yelled. I climbed off the rock and wrestled through brush until I reached the pad.

  “Nice job.”

  “Thanks. Glad I could help. My name is James, by the way. I’m contracting with BRI.

  You must be Ken. Conner told me all about you.”

  “I’ve seen you around, operating equipment. I’m glad to finally put a name to the face. Would you mind sticking around while I check something?”

  “I’ve still got a couple of hours left on the clock,” he said with a shrug.

  I walked to the road, looked down the pad, walked to the opposite end of the pad, looked toward Primera and then returned.

  “Could you clear another twenty feet on the north end? I have a hunch I’ll need the extra space. It doesn’t need to be exact.”

  “Sorry, I can’t deviate from the plan without authorization.”

  “Then, could you close your eyes for a minute?”

  He gave me an odd look. “Uh… Okay.”

  While his eyes were closed, I quickly moved the stakes twenty feet. “From what I see, it looks like you still have work to do.” He opened his eyes and scowled at me.

  “This could cost me my job, you know.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I’ll square it with Conner.”

  He shook his head and then climbed back into the front loader. When he finished, I gave him a thumbs-up and shouted, “Perfect!”

  Over the next four days, Conner ironed out the utilities. One unexpected difficulty was the fact that the furnace and stove needed to be re-jetted for natural gas. Fortunately, the manufacturer was able to FedEx new jets. The water heater could be run off either electricity or propane, so no modifications were required. Later, when Primera’s infrastructure was installed, so was mine. By April 28, 2013, everything was ready. I immediately called Brian Roads, the general manager of Arizona Homes on Wheels.

  “Hi, Brian. Ken Dickson. I spoke with you a while back about a Lance 2185, a 2012 model.”

  “It’s been a while, but I remember.”

  “Do you still have one in stock?”

  “Let me check… I’ve got one 2012 left. Should I put your name on it?”

  “Yes. I’ll be right down to close the deal.”

  I drove to his office immediately and signed the purchase agreement. Early the next morning, I waited excitedly for my new home. It appeared at 8:30 a.m., towed by a big, clattering, Ford diesel quad-cab pickup with Brian himself behind the wheel. He waved at me and then skillfully backed it in under my direction. Afterward, I helped him to unhitch and level it.

  I informed Conner that the trailer was in place. Over the next few days, contractors connected utilities. When they finished on May 2, 2013, I walked into the trailer, tested everything from the stove to the shower and cranked the AC down to seventy-seven. I flopped onto the bare queen mattress and sighed. I was homeless no more.

  Just then, my phone rang. I answered cheerfully, “Ken’s residence. Can I help you?” The line was silent for several seconds and then a familiar voice replied.

  “Hi, Ken. It’s Beth. Nikki’s dead.”

  ***

  Although she was no stranger to death, having dealt with the loss of many pets, the passing of her father and numerous close calls with her mother, Beth usually left the final details to me. Nikki’s death was unfortunate, but if that was my ticket to getting back into Beth’s good graces, I was using it. I arrived at the house at six that evening. A chorus of howls and barks erupted, increasing in volume as three dogs collided en masse on the other side of the door. When Beth opened it, I handed her flowers that I’d purchased on the way. “Just something to cheer you up,” I said. I couldn’t hear her response over the rambunctious whining and barking. I sat on the floor and let the dogs lick me and climb all over me until they settled. Then, noticing my teary-eyed daughter, Hailey, I stood and hugged her.

  “Hi, kiddo. It’s good to see you. Sorry about Nikki.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” she sobbed. “I was wondering if you’d ever come back.”

  “Life gets in the way sometimes. It’ll get better, I promise. Is your sister around?”

  “No, she’s still at school. She’s got a test and couldn’t make it.”

  “All right, well, let me get started.”

  I powered up the desktop computer in my office, searched for a file, substituted Nikki’s name for the previous one and sent the file to the printer. I folded the page, placed it in my shirt pocket and walked to the shed to fetch a shovel. I carried the shovel to the big ficus tree in the back yard and searched for a spot for Nikki’s grave.

  I couldn’t remember how many bodies lay beneath that tree or where
they all were buried. I feared that I might decapitate one with the first stroke of the shovel. Instead, I exposed a red ant colony. Ants boiled from the hole like liquid. I hurriedly pitched the dirt back, not wanting to be stung by one of the nasty little buggers, burying all but a few and then I trampled it for good measure. I struck anew and hit a rock. Fortunately, it was small enough to dislodge. I finished digging the grave without further issues.

  “Okay, I’m ready,” I announced to Beth and Hailey. They followed me as I carried Nikki’s hastily constructed coffin to the grave and watched sadly as I lowered it in. That done, I retrieved the paper from my shirt pocket, cleared my throat and read: “In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our friend Nikki; and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes; dust to dust. The Lord bless her and keep her, the Lord make his face to shine upon her and be gracious unto her and give her peace. Amen.” I filled the grave and then turned and hugged Hailey once more.

  “Can we get another rat, Dad?”

  “That’s up to your mom.” I beckoned to Beth to join us in a hug. She took a step forward and then thought better of it. Although she appreciated me being there, a wall still existed between us, but that single step brought me hope. She waited until I finished hugging Hailey to comfort her herself.

  Chapter 27

  TREAT HER LIKE A LADY

  The next day, Friday, May 3, 2013, I went shopping for food, bedding, kitchenware, cleaning and bathroom supplies. Once I put everything away in the trailer, I spent my first evening there. After sharing accommodations with changed people for almost three months, it was unbearably quiet. I occupied myself by building a fire pit using small boulders from the nearby hillside, assembling it on the extra pad. When I finished, I gathered kindling, most of it remnants from clearing the pad missed by the front loader, and placed it next to the trailer. I stoked up a fire only to realize that I had nothing to sit on. A search through the trailer produced only an orange five-gallon bucket from Home Depot. I placed it upside-down near the fire and lay a folded towel atop it for added comfort. After that, I enjoyed the fire, occasionally stirring it with a stick and watching sparks rise into the night.