Fishbowl (40 page)

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 IPO? 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.'

‘I'm not saying that isn't true. And you've turned your one million investment into eleven billion. So I think, you know, we can call it evens.'

Chris shook his head, steaming. ‘You'd
never
have created a new model of advertising. You'd
never
have come up with the idea of Farming. That was
me
, Andrei. Me!'

Andrei was silent. He took a mouthful of his noodles and chewed it. ‘I hoped you wouldn't take this the wrong way,' he said eventually.

‘I'm taking it like it is, Andrei.'

There was silence again. Chris chewed his chicken angrily.

‘Obviously, I hope you'll still be a member of the board.'

Chris snorted.

‘You know,' said Andrei, ‘I wanted to talk to you about Farming as well. I'm going to stop it.'

Chris stared at him, then put down his fork. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘I'm going to stop Farming.'

Chris laughed.

‘I'm not joking.'

‘You spent half a billion dollars—'

‘More, actually. With Los Alamos, we're over a billion.'

‘And you're going to
stop
it?'

‘And I'm not going to license it, either. Not for advertising, anyway.'

Chris sat back. ‘And what, if you wouldn't mind telling me, are you going to do?'

‘I'm going to stop advertising on Fishbowl. Any kind. It's always been a necessary evil. Well, now, thanks to the IAP, it's not necessary. Fishbowl's going back to what it was.'

‘What it was when you were a kid in a dorm in Stanford.'

‘I'm going to license the IAP for other things – to do all the other things we said it could do. What we've developed is amazing. It's Deep Connectedness in a truly radical and ground-breaking form. Can you imagine bringing education to Africa through a palotl in every classroom?'

‘It's my word, palotl! That's my word, Andrei! I invented it.'

‘Do you want me to call it something else?'

‘Call it what you freaking want! Andrei, listen to yourself! What the fuck are you talking about doing?'

‘Think of it, Chris. Education … medical care … citizens' rights … We can bring all of that and more. Isn't that an awesome vision?'

‘Every advertiser on every site across the net using our IAP, that's my vision,' said Chris. ‘A trillion-dollar company, that's my vision.'

‘The revenue I get from the IAP I'll use to run Fishbowl as a site for Deep Connectedness.'

Chris snorted. ‘What revenue?'

‘Governments will pay. Aid donors. I won't need much.'

‘You're out of your mind! You want to do all that stuff? Great. Do it. But don't think anyone's going to pay you for it. Not in
this world. Don't think you can do it if you stop Farming on Fishbowl.'

‘Fishbowl's a sewer, Chris. It's a stinking mess riddled with selling. It's a place to sell stuff. That's all it is. It's a goddamn place to sell stuff.'

‘You are out of your fucking mind.'

‘I watched my testimony to the Senate committee. I looked at it and I saw myself and I saw someone I didn't recognize, someone saying things I could never have imagined saying. You know who I saw? Mike Sweetman, only a hundred times worse. I saw the sum total of every hypocritical, money-grubbing, monopolistic tech CEO I've always despised. And I don't want to be that person. I never wanted to be that person. It's a betrayal of myself.'

‘And I suppose you're saying I made you that person.'

‘No. I'll take responsibility for that. And it's because I made myself that person that I can unmake him. Four times I sat on a podium with Didier Broule and listened to him say that Fishbowl isn't a network, it isn't about Deep Connectedness, it's about advertising. It's a universal advertising application.'

‘He's an idiot.'

‘No, he's right. He's right on the money, if you'll excuse the pun. My greatest regret is that I didn't stand up in London or Shanghai and say right there that there'll be no advertising. There'll be no licensing. Well, it's not too late. I don't want to be the guy who spends his life running an advertising program. It's your question, Chris – the one you asked me the very first time we met. What's the most important thing for me to be doing with my life? Well, you know what? Being the world's biggest advertising executive, as Senator O'Brien put it, is not it. In fact, it's the worst thing I can be doing. So I'm not going to be that. I'm going to take this program and put it to use elsewhere and Fishbowl will be Fishbowl – a place were people connect, not some place riddled with sales where you don't know if what you think is your best friend is going to turn out to be a frigging palotl. And you know what? I'm going back to
two
l
s. Fishbowll, with two
l
s, like the Dillerman said. I should never have changed it.'

Chris watched him for a moment, then smiled pitifully. ‘You realize this will do nothing to stop other people developing Farming for themselves? If you leave this space open, all that's going to happen is some Mike Sweetman is going to walk on in there and take the truckloads and truckloads of money that are waiting.'

‘They're welcome to it.'

‘You put this thing into the world.'

‘Doesn't mean I have to continue with it.'

‘This gesture of yours will do nothing to stop where the world is going.'

‘Maybe it won't.'

‘Oh, it won't.' Chris grinned sardonically. ‘Don't kid yourself, it won't. The world is getting exactly the internet it deserves.'

‘Maybe so, but that doesn't mean I have to be the one to give it to them.'

‘Others will. Everything on the net ends up in the same place. No one wants to pay for anything, so we all take what we know about our users – who they are, what they want, when they want it – package it up, and sell that instead.' Chris laughed. ‘Don't you love it? We had this monumental thing that could have been about openness and honesty and we've turned it into this monstrous net constructed to trap and manipulate us.' He laughed again. ‘And
we're
the best at it, Andrei.'