The 14:20 to Zurich
My mind was a mess as I boarded the 14:20 train to Zurich. Our negotiations in Geneva had all but self-destructed. My co-founder flipped out and our bankers had barely managed to stop him from physically assaulting the arrogant narcissist across the table.
As I looked for a seat, I was mentally ripping through alternative after alternative, looking for a way to resurrect the deal. We had one day, maybe two, before our investors would convene to try and boot us out of our positions.
A hard tug on my shoulder interrupted my mental chatter. I had no choice but to stop. Anger rose in my chest as I turned to see who grabbed me.
No one was there. That made no sense. I glanced around. The train was empty. It should have been packed.
Then… I felt her presence, a lone woman sitting in a space sufficient for four. She was tucked against the window, just five feet away from me. Before any of her features registered in my conscious mind, I was overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity.
Her again, I thought. An irrational thought, utterly out of character for me. If I’m one thing, it’s rational.
(To a fault, many say.)
It took me a minute to collect myself. She was nonplussed, patient.
She gestured with her hand, inviting me to sit across from her.
I did.
Settling into the seat, I took her in.
Or at least tried, and failed. Was she blond or brunette, slight or athletic? 30 or 40? I didn’t have a clue. She was beautiful, alluring, ethereal and commonplace. She was everything and everyone.
Do I sound rational to you? Hell no.
I know this sounds crazy, but that’s what I perceived.
Trying to break the ice, I started, “My name is….”
She held up a single finger, silencing me mid-sentence.
She handed me a note scribbled on a torn piece of paper.
THE USE OF LANGUAGE PRESUPPOSES THAT WE ARE SEPARATE.
We know each other. Yes.
We must. But how? Where? She was simultaneously a complete stranger and the most reassuring presence I had ever encountered.
What could I possibly say in response to a message like that?
(And when did she write it, my barely functioning rational brain asked?)
I felt her grasp my hand. Her touch was loving, familiar, instantly comforting.
I looked down. Her hands were three feet away from mine.
Reality glitched. It felt something like an earthquake, power failure and drinking binge condensed into a few seconds.
I blinked myself back into focus.
My eyes darted back to catch hers. She smiled.
Her finger traced the outline of my lips. Or so it felt. As before, there was no actual movement on her part.
Something shifted inside me and language disappeared from my toolkit. I had no words or thoughts, just feelings and instincts.
If you had asked me a question at that moment, I would not have understood the concepts of “question” or “answer” or “you”.
Then the train disappeared.
When I woke up two hours later in Zurich, she was gone, but I was a different person.
No longer did I feel like a Type A overachiever who can’t stop proving himself. I felt connected, loved and at peace.
That said, my left arm hurt a bit.
I scratched my forearm, and it hurt even worse. Pushing up my sleeve, I saw a new tattoo on my forearm.
LOVE EXISTS ONLY IN THE ABSENCE OF WORDS
It was a reminder from my soulmate, the one I had forgotten until now.
Kira.
She had signed it.
Kira.
My grounding presence across a thousand lives, who maintains a strong foundation in the physical realm while crossing easily across countless spiritual dimensions.
When I get too deep into human existence, Kira is always there to nudge me back to my true nature. This time, she wasn’t taking any chances and left a guidepost I can follow throughout the rest of this life.
**
The Gut Feelings Machine
After 14 straight hours in a New York City boardroom with her clients, Lori was still remarkably focused. Their CEO was hellbent on buying a two-year-old startup for $3 billion, and his team of strategists had worked out a thick stack of briefing materials explaining why this "bold move" would eventually be seen as sheer genius.
If the deal went through, Lori and her partners stood to make millions. But she also knew that if the deal eventually fell short of these sky-high expectations, they'd be at risk to lose their largest client.
There was just one problem: her gut instinct was screaming that this deal was going to blow up in their faces.
She'd repeatedly tried to air her concerns in a logical and reasoned manner, to no avail. The CEO was already imagining his name in a glowing Wall Street Journal article.
Then she remembered her session yesterday with that Union Square startup, the one that claimed they could enable humans to communicate gut instincts, the way pack animals do when they notice a potential threat. She still had the twin headsets in her purse, the ones they lent her over the weekend.
No... she thought... that would be too crazy. Or maybe not. Saving your biggest client was never crazy.
"Brian," she said to the CEO, "Before you make a final decision, can you humor me for 90 seconds?"
He nodded.
"One of my cutting edge clients just developed Duo brain sensors, and they claim these devices can spot potential threats that conscious reasoning often misses. All we need do is to put the sensor on for 20 seconds, and as long as it doesn't glow red, we're good to go."
Brian lifted an eyebrow. "Seriously?
Lori nodded. "This is $15 million of research led by the smartest guy to come out of MIT in ten years." She handed him one sensor and placed the other on her head. "It may seem ridiculous, but trust me."
Brian sighed deeply, smiled nervously, and placed the sensor on his head.
Lori instructed as she did the same, "Now just press the button behind your right ear."
Three seconds passed, then...
"Holy crap!" screamed Brian. His eyes were darting back and forth. Sweat formed on his forehead, and his breathing became more shallow. "We're going to get crushed."
Lori just looked him in the eye as he processed the gut feelings that had been eating away at her all day.
Brian looked back at her. "You've been trying to tell me this, but I wasn't listening."
She nodded.
"I'm such an idiot," he said. "Let's kill this deal... but, Lori... you need to help me invest in this startup."
Lori smiled. "Absolutely," she said.
**
Phone Call from Heaven
It's seldom a good sign when the phone rings in the middle of the night. I reached for it, my heart racing.
"Hey Bruce, it's Lilly."
Lilly? It took me a few seconds, but I remembered...
Lilly, who founded a wine company by strolling around San Francisco, inviting restaurant owners to share a glass of her first vintage.
Lilly, who went to Africa to build clean water wells... the very same night the idea struck her.
Lilly, a friend of a friend, with whom I had always felt an inexplicable connection.
That Lilly.
"Busy?"
I let out a small chuckle. "Lilly, it's 4 a.m. here."
"Yeah, I figured you'd have time to chat. You know I still follow your work."
Though half-asleep, I felt a warmth spreading across my cheeks. I hadn't seen Lilly in at least six years and had assumed she'd forgotten me.
"Can you put on some music?” Lilly asked.
"Now? During the call?"
"Yeah, I would, but I don't have any."
The thing about Lilly was that she made these wild requests, and people would simply oblige. Earlier that night, I had been listening to The John Butler Trio Live at Red Rocks, so I played that.
"Much better. Nice choice. Hey, Bruce, I need to tell you something. It's pretty important."
She paused for a long time before continuing.
"You're so close, Bruce." Another pause.
"I'm not following you, Lilly."
"You're a good guy and you're talented, and you have a great heart, and you work hard."
A "but" seemed imminent, I could feel it coming.
"Imagine, just imagine, what you could accomplish if you were always present. Not for an hour or two, but day after day, week after week. How long could you keep it going? A month? A year? Maybe two? More? Could you? What would it take?"
Now she spoke in rhythm with the music, her words coming in bursts.
This wasn't a completely foreign concept to me, although I rarely discussed it at 4 a.m. "You mean to be present, right?"
"Yeah, present. Completely present. 100% present. In the zone. It's possible, you know. You can do it. I'm not just flattering you. You could stay there for an incredibly, astonishingly long time. You've got a good, long run in you. I've never said this to anyone else, and I just had to tell you. I wish I could have told you..."
She fell silent. Was she crying?
"Lilly?"
"We both messed up. I should have told you sooner, but you should have figured it out long ago. You aim too low, you know? You get a burst of inspiration, it lasts maybe 45 minutes, and you thank the heavens above. That's trivial. Not even worth mentioning."
Another lengthy pause.
"Do you understand your potential? I know you don't, that's why I had to call."
She laughed.
"Hey, Bruce?"
"Yeah?"
"You won't forget what I said."
"Of course not, Lilly."
"That wasn't a question. You won't forget what I said because your phone recorded this entire call. Sorry that I don't have more time. Truly sorry. So long."
Confused, I stared at the phone in my hand for a long time, then eventually set it down and sank back into bed. A few minutes later, I sat up and pulled out my laptop.
I looked up Lilly on Facebook. Nothing. LinkedIn? Nothing. No Twitter either.
Then I found it, a short piece in the Kalamazoo news section on Mlive.com. It was two weeks old:
Lilly Raymond, 47, died in a boating accident on Lake Michigan.
A sense of calm came over me. My normal reactions were no longer in play. My brain wasn't spinning, my stomach wasn't clenching.
I took my time, but there was no doubt in my mind. I picked up the phone and searched for Voice Memos, an app I’d never used before. There was one recording there. I pressed Play.
"Hey Bruce, it's Lilly."
**
30-Second Time Travel
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” said the Minister of Transportation. “You stole our time travel machine because you were mad at your brother.”
Malcolm nodded rapidly. “Yes, that's right.”
“And you did this even though you knew that the machine could only take you back in time a maximum of thirty seconds?”
“Yes.”
The Minister frowned. “But 30 seconds would not be enough to change anything your brother had done.”
Malcolm shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to change his actions.”
“Then why did you steal the machine?”
“Because I was mad that Malcolm always went back in time, and I never did.”
The Minister pushed her chair back from the table. “Your brother has gone back in time, too?”
“Sure,” said Malcolm. “All the time.”
The Minister held up both of her hands to get him to stop, then pointed a finger at Malcolm. “Young man, you are telling me that your brother has also – repeatedly – stolen the time machine?”
Malcolm shook his head. “No. That’s not what I meant. He’s never taken the machine. He doesn’t need it.”
The Minister stood up, then started pacing. She weighed her words carefully. More than once, she was about to say something, then reconsidered.
Malcolm grew tired of waiting. “My brother doesn’t need a machine to travel through time. He can do it on his own.”
“On… his own?”
“Yep, he just thinks about where and when he wants to be.”
The Minister snorted. “That’s preposterous.”
Malcolm smiled. “20 years ago, that’s what everyone said about the idea of a time travel machine.”
That caught the Minister’s attention. Before she could respond, Malcolm continued.
“Adam is what my Dad calls physically unresolved. Dad says he’s always on the verge of slipping into another state. When he’s here, he’s not really here. When he’s there, he’s not really there.”
“You’re talking in riddles,” sneered the Minister.
“Spend a weekend with Adam, you’ll see what I mean,” muttered Malcolm.
"I am not someone to be trifled with," warned the Minister.
"Dad says that half the human population is unresolved, but for almost all of them, the term applies to their mental state. They can't decide if they want to eat more or lose weight. They don't know if it's better to work harder or take more vacation.
UNRESOLVED: (of a person) uncertain of what to think or do. Synonyms - undecided, unsettled, undetermined, uncertain, in doubt, up in the air
The Minister found herself nodding; she knew this to be true.
"But Adam's physical form is unresolved, and his mental state is just the opposite. He can focus much harder than others, so he can shift his body in and out of our time."
"You're telling me that human focus can bend time?" challenged the Minister.
"Human focus can do a lot more than people realize," responded Malcolm.
"That's nonsense," said the Minister.
"Dad told me you'd say that," said Malcolm.
"He did, did he?" snapped the Minister, her anger rising.
Malcolm nodded and focused his thoughts, just like his brother taught him. Then he turned to the Minister and said, "No more questions, please. I need to get home and watch the ballgame."
The Minister paused; an odd look crossed her face, and she seemed to be fighting to control her own body. Finally, she croaked, "Sure... okay..." and opened the door for Malcolm.
As Malcolm left, he had a big smile on his face. "Like I told you, focus can do a lot more than people realize."
**
Today, I Play God
All Lisa could see was orange. Where yesterday the sun rose beautifully over the mountains, today the Gates of Hell consumed the entire sky. They said it was coming, she thought, but not this fast. How could it move this fast?
Her entire family was on the other side of that inferno, but all her memories seemed to be scattered within 50 feet of where she sat in her bedroom chair, simultaneously terrified and at peace. Lisa loved her house; it was her refuge. She built the pond surrounding her deck. She painted the mural in her daughter's room. She had picked every picture and item that made this building a home.
I ought to be running to the car with our photos, she thought. But she couldn't stop staring at the raging flames just now cresting the ridgeline.
"What happens after I escape?" she said out loud. "What then?"
"My husband hates me. My kids don't need me. My job bores me to tears. Even the dog runs more eagerly to my neighbors than to me. Why should I leave the only place that gives me joy?"
She was talking to God, to herself, and to anyone willing to save her. But no one was coming to save her. She had stayed too long. She was too close to disaster.
The evergreen trees outside her window were gorgeous. They rose above the rock garden she had created with her own hands, scrounging stones from the sides of hiking trails and digging up wildflowers from mountain valleys. Minutes from now, they would be dust and ashes. So would the chairs on the deck outside her window. So would the deck itself, and the railing she had designed herself.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust had always been a rote phrase. Today it was a harsh reality.
Then a thought edged into Lisa's mind: I played no part in my birth.
This insight expanded in her brain as fast as the fire had grown in the forest surrounding her community. Human beings come into existence through the luck of the draw. If we are beautiful or smart or strong or athletic it is because something occurred before we took our first breath. It just happened, outside of our control. But today, at this moment, she had a choice.
I can play God, Lisa realized. She could end her life simply by sitting in her favorite chair for a few more minutes.
OR...
She could intentionally give birth to a new life.
She could run to the car and create a life so unlike her old one. Instead of being a victim, she could be a savior. Instead of being powerless, she could empower others. She could build 1,000 gardens, or help to build 1,000 homes. She could reach out to help others, instead of waiting for someone to magically appear who cared about her.
Merely by getting up, Lisa could acquire divine powers. Her eyes looked across the room to her nightstand. For a change, the Audi keys were right there, next to her purse. She looked at the flames, almost comic in their scale and intensity.
Another minute went by. She felt at peace. For the first time ever, she felt powerful.
Not today, she thought. Not today.
52 seconds later, Lisa roared out of the driveway, excited to see just how fast her Audi was capable of going.
**
Soulmate
One day, a voice in my ear said, “Alex, this is Soulmate. Stop walking. I’d like you to meet someone special.”
Rushing through the brick plaza outside Boston’s Faneuil Hall, the words almost didn’t register. I was tired and stressed from a tough day at work.
I kept moving for a few hundred feet before it dawned on me that this was the first time that Soulmate, my new social GPS unit, had ever come to life. Given to me as a gift by my concerned parents, who were almost as tired as I was of a succession of flawed girlfriends, it had spent three months sitting silently on my phone, never making a peep.
Think of Soulmate as a dating service with ESP. It broadcasts all of your interests, dislikes, bad habits, unique qualities, personal characteristics and dreams in a quarter-mile-wide circle that follows you everywhere you go.
The data is encrypted, thank God, so your office mates won’t be able to discover that you really like cuddling by the fire and giggling at bad jokes, to use a purely hypothetical example. Only other Soulmate apps can “read” the data.
Although the technology is complex, the idea is pretty simple. If you ever cross paths with a potential soulmate, Soulmate stops you both in your tracks and introduces you.
At last, I stopped.
For a moment, I actually froze. Did she stop, too? Was she staring at me now? Do I look stressed out?
I tried to look casual. It didn’t work.
Then I remembered the instructions. “Match us up,” I said to my phone.
“Excellent,” replied Soulmate. “Julia is 240 feet to the northeast of you.”
I have a bad sense of direction. “Which way is northeast?”
“Turn around and she will be ahead and slightly to your right.”
Summoning my courage, I turned around. As I did, Soulmate prompted me, “Please hold up your phone.”
Soulmate introductions often take place on crowded city streets or at parties or public events, so the service created a simple step to help people find each other. You are supposed to hold up your phone, without using it.
I took out my phone, holding it somewhat awkwardly in front of me, and started walking forward. It was dinnertime, and the restaurants and bars were filling up quickly. People were hustling across the plaza, many in groups but plenty on their own. I could see dozens of women in front of me.
Then I saw her. Julia had her phone out, too, but had an expression and pose that suggested she was debating whether to bolt before I showed up. Then she saw me, and I actually managed a welcoming smile.
“She’s 92 feet in front of you,” Soulmate said.
“Shut up,” I said, turning off my phone.
Julia was stuck now. She returned my smile and walked towards me. As I was calculating how to greet a perfect stranger my phone identified as my soulmate, Julia broke the ice. She gave me a big hug.
“Hey, Alex. I’m Julia.”
You can learn a lot from a hug. Julia was a warm and outgoing person, in great shape. A runner, I guessed, like me.
She pulled away and looked me right in the eyes, for a long time. Her eyes and her lips sparkled.
Sorry, if I don’t speed things up this story will take five years, eight months, two weeks, four days and – let’s see – 27 minutes, which is how long it’s been since Julia and I met. We have only been apart for seven nights since.
Thanks, Soulmate.
**
Is This A Simulation?
Basic idea: Create a series of software programs that function as self-contained ecosystems. Each will be “populated” by living, breathing, sentient beings who will evolve over successive generations. Each program will run without outside interference and we’ll see what happens.
The object of the program: Set up the initial conditions and operating principles in such a manner that the ecosystem thrives. The program’s designer wins if the sentient beings advance to the point that they can escape the program and live successfully in our world.
Notes generated early in the development process…
1. Sentient beings (“people,” “human beings,” or “men” and “women”) who populate the program must not know that they live in a program. To them, their world must be the only reality that exists.
2. The operating principles of this world must be fixed and unchanging. That is, while “life,” evolves, the rules that govern life, time, and space do not. Otherwise, people would be paralyzed by confusion and unending chaos
3. The world must remain complex enough to continually challenge its inhabitants. As people reach new levels of understanding, they must discover fresh challenges. Otherwise, they will become complacent and static, and the program will cease to either evolve or be useful.
4. To support #3 above, the physical world in which people live must appear to be nearly infinite. But to keep the program from consuming infinite computing power, the “planet” on which life resides must for all intents and purposes be physically isolated from the rest of the “universe.”
To obscure this reality, we should create fuzzy boundaries. That is, people will eventually gain the ability to visit nearby “moons” and planets, but they will not be able to visit planets revolving around other stars. (As a contingency, perhaps we should plan for the possibility that they can reach planets revolving around a very small number of stars? Let's discuss at next meeting.)
5. People have the ability to reprogram themselves, but this capability will be difficult to access successfully. Only a tiny number of humans will pursue this path; these will be the ones who eventually determine the program’s outcome.
Operating principles
The amount of energy existing in the world is fixed. It cannot be destroyed, only transferred.
Movement in this world can never exceed the speed that light travels. This principle is essential to keep the world finite. But at the same time, this principle provides a rational-appearing support for the world’s infinite appearance.
Everything has an equally powerful opposite to balance it: light vs. dark, good vs. evil, work vs. fun, etc. This will keep the program in equilibrium and hopefully will ensure it operates successfully for an extended period of time.
Nick Bostrom has assembled an entire website to answer the question, "Are you living in a computer simulation?" So far as I can tell, he's pretty sure the answer is yes.
**
Purpose or Money?
"Purpose or money?" Deckard asked Jennifer.
"Excuse me?" she responded nervously. This was going much too fast. The results of this 10-minute session would determine the entire path of her career... and life.
"On which element will you focus your career?" Deckard growled.
"It's either/or? I can't choose both?" she probed.
"No."
"Could you please summarize the essential differences?" she asked, stalling for time.
"Purpose will make you happy and successful on the inside, money will make you appear happy and successful on the outside."
Jennifer blinked. That was a pretty succinct summary. What did she want?
"Which path has the highest potential for a human being with my skills?" she asked.
"Eight minutes and 23 seconds left before we provide you with the default options," said Deckard. "Should I proceed?"
"Yes," she confirmed.
"Career paths for humans are narrowing. Alternative intelligences like me are taking many of the roles humans used to fill. We are tireless, far less prone to errors, and we don't complain. In the 2020's, analysts suggested that empathy was an essential element that humans possessed and AIs didn't, and that jobs that required empathy was a path to successful careers."
"But the Empaths proved that wrong," said Jennifer.
"Yes," said Deckard. "Empaths are far more consistent in displaying empathy than humans, so humans no longer get hired for that skill."
"Is empathy necessary to be successful in a purpose-driven career?" she asked.
"No. Purpose just means you focus on what is meaningful to you, instead of focusing obsessively on accumulating money," said Deckard. "Six minutes and 34 seconds."
"Why are career paths so narrow today?"
"Time has proven the middle approach does not work," said Deckard. "Humans who want it all clog the workforce and cause chaos. They have all been replaced by AIs. They live in the outskirts on Guaranteed Minimum Salaries."
Is it better to look good or feel good, Jennifer asked herself. Do I want outward or inner success? Am I strong enough to know I've succeeded beyond my wildest dreams even if the world looks upon me as a commercial failure?
She looked closely at Deckard, a bio-engineered human. He did not worry about being happy or not. He was not plagued by feelings of inadequacy, and he would not hesitate to pull your eyes out if commanded to do so. She was not confident in her ability to succeed in a no-rules race for money.
"Purpose," she said to Deckard. "I choose purpose."
What would you choose?
**
Water
Jerry had spent five years wandering the planet, seeking anything that felt like a sense of purpose. He had started his career in banking, succeeded immediately, but was miserable. Money never filled the hole inside him.
Now he was in a kayak on Lake Titicaca, high in the mountains between Peru and Bolivia. Deep beneath him were the ruins of a massive ancient temple; Jerry had felt drawn to it. But after a long day of floating above it... there was still no sign of his purpose.
He paddled back to the shores of Copacabana, where a young girl stood in the water, watching him. “Hi, Jerry,” she said.
She knows my name, he thought.
“I know your purpose,” she said.
Jerry paused, afraid to disrupt the sudden possibility of something out of the ordinary. “And… who are you?”
“Call me Brooke.”
Jerry got out and sat on the sand. He looked at Brooke.
“I’m ready to listen,” he said.
Brooke whispered, “Water.”
“Water,” said Jerry.
“Yes,” said Brooke.
“I’ve wandered for five years, searching for any semblance of meaning or purpose, and you’re telling me that the answer to my quest is… water?”
“Yes,” said Brooke. “That is correct.”
Jerry took a shallow breath. He was raw from years of hating his life and job. What he thought was wit often came across as the cynicism that filled him.
“Water, like the stuff that fills this lake.”
“Yes.”
“What comes out of the faucet at my hostel.”
Brooke nodded.
“I’m supposed to understand why water is the answer to my search?”
“If you need an explanation, I’d be happy to share it,” responded Brooke.
“That would be helpful” said Jerry.
“Water connects us all. It has magical qualities. It absorbs emotions. You can shape it with your prayers, wishes, mindset and energy. If you want to change your own ways of being, and the ways that other creatures are also being, use water.”
For a moment, Jerry’s logical business brain was ready to argue and debate. But then deep inside him something clicked. This felt right. Then another click, at a much deeper level. He felt a profound sense of relief.
Jerry looked back out at the lake. He had spent all that time being obsessed with what was under the lake’s water. He’d sailed across the Atlantic Ocean, twice. He once spent a summer on the shores of Lake Michigan. It never occurred to him that his answer might be as simple as: water.
Brooke took a few strides and dove into the lake. She swam underwater for a good long stretch, surfaced, then swam back towards Jerry. Her head came up, but her body remained submerged.
“This is the one thing that truly connects all life,” said Brooke. “Your society takes it for granted. You abuse it. You fail to understand that the water itself is more connected, powerful and sensitive than any technology on Earth. You are not separate from it; you are made of it.”
Brooke dipped beneath the surface once more, but Jerry still could hear her speaking.
“This is your destiny, Jerry. Tell others. Show them a better path. Treat us with respect.”
Jerry waited for two hours. Brooke never resurfaced.
**
The Universe Is Telling You To Quit Your Job
My name is Mike McGain. I sell enterprise software to the largest companies on the planet, which means I’m nearly always on an airplane.
It’s a good job, and the money is great, but we keep buying other companies and I spend half my energy just fighting off internal zombie hordes (translation: sales people from other divisions) that are trying to steal my prospects, clients, territory, or entire job. I don’t blame them – they’re just trying to stay employed in the middle of all this chaos – but it gets really, really old.
The other day I boarded Delta 426 for an early morning flight to Salt Lake, and checked my email. There was one interesting tidbit from a headhunter… the hottest, best-funded startup in my space was looking for someone to head up sales. The subject line caught my attention: Great money, serious equity.
I made a mental note to call him as soon as we landed, and closed my eyes for a quick nap.
Next thing I know, we’re in the air. The guy next to me looks familiar. No way, I think.
It’s Sky Fanning, founder of the startup described in my email.
He notices I’m awake. “Bet you needed that, huh?”
It takes me a minute to process this. Maybe I'm still sleeping?
“The nap?” I finally say, “It’s my best skill. I can sleep anywhere. That’s the only way I could possibly do my job.”
He offers his hand. “Sky,” he says.
“Mike McGain. I’m your biggest competitor, or at least I work for them.”
His eyes narrow. “Trinity?”
I nod.
“Interesting,” he says.
“I’ll tell you something even more interesting. I just got an email from Russell Reynolds asking if I want to talk about running Sales for you.”
“From Laura?”
My turn to nod. “Yep, Laura Hender.”
He pauses, then asks, “When did you book this flight?”
Sort of an odd question, but I see no harm in answering. I’m just as freaked out by this coincidence as he is.
“This one has been on the calendar for a few months. It’s a courtesy call on one of my oldest customers.”
He returns the favor. “I’m giving a keynote speech at a conference in Park City. It was arranged late last year.”
We both take a minute to stare at the seats in front of us.
He turns back towards me. “The job is yours if you want it. We’ll pay you twice what you make now. At the end of the year, you’ll get stock options for ten times that amount. You'll run Sales, and I won’t second-guess you.”
The stewardess stops by and asks, “Do you have everything you need?”
I turn to Sky and offer him my hand. “Hell, yes.”
QUESTION: How seriously do you take coincidences? I’m not talking about you and your co-worker showing up one day in the same clothing, but rather substantive and unbelievably "what are the odds?" occurrences like the one described here. Were these two right in deciding that meeting on the plane was a sign that they should work together, especially given other evidence that Mike was a strong candidate?
**
Do Humans Only Work For Money?
Imagine that over the past year, aliens were spying on us from outer space. Two then gathered in their spaceship to go over what they learned. Here’s what they said:
Alien 1: Humans work for money.
Alien 2: What is money?
Alien 1: We are not sure. It is probably a drug.
Alien 2: What else do they work for?
Alien 1: It’s mostly just money. They need money “real bad.” Humans will do work they hate, just to get money.
Alien 2: Why would you do something you hate?
Alien 1: I do not know. The mere thought of it gives me the shivers. Love is what makes the world go ’round.
Alien 2: Huh?
Alien 1: Love is what makes the world go round. We heard a human say it. The expression is very close to our One Great Truth.
Aliens 1 and 2 (in unison): Follow Your Passion!!!
Alien 2: It is a crime to have talent and not use it. How can money replace the Seven Great Joys of Following Your Passion?
Alien 1: We do not know. Humans seem to trade money for many things: food, housing, transportation, clothing, and even the right to watch Avengers movies.
Alien 2: I love the Avengers. They are my favorite.
Alien 1: Me, too.
Alien 2: Don’t humans understand that if you focus enough energy on your passion, it will provide all you need from life?
Alien 1. No. Definitely no. They do not understand. Some call this “being unrealistic.”
Alien 2: Hmmm. How intelligent are these humans?
Alien 1: Smart enough to discover the Avengers, but not wise enough to treasure their greatest talents.
Alien 2: A bit childish, then.
Alien 1: Yes, childlike. That is a good way to say it.
++++
I see too many people underestimating the degree to which they can control their own future, and overestimating just how much they have to settle for less than their best.
Nothing in life is easy, or without costs. But if you are willing to pay the price of following your passions, you can achieve much more than you imagine.
**
Fast Opening Practice
David had been staring out his office window for a long time when the phone rang. He looked down. Caller ID blocked. He answered anyway. Nothing else to do.
A female voice said, "David, you don't know me, but we need to meet right now, at the Rathskeller."
"Why? Who is this?"
"My name is Jamie, and it's about your sister. You have ten minutes."
David was not a man of action. He put down the phone and looked out the window again. His office was on the edge of campus. Cornfields stretched as far as he could see. It's not like he had anything at all to do. He started walking.
The Rathskeller was a faculty club, just a slightly better than average bar/restaurant in the basement of old Moore Hall. The building was one of the first constructed on campus, with thick stone walls.
She wasn't hard to spot sitting in the corner booth, one of four humans in the place. Billy was tending the bar, and two science professors were nursing beers.
Jamie was lean and attractive, in a Run Lola Run sort of way.
"Sit, David," she commanded. "We don't have much time."
David looked at his watch. 4:15. He had nineteen hours until his next class and nothing to do until then, except grade papers.
Jamie took a deep breath. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, carefully assessing his posture, mental state, and personality.
"I thought we didn't have much time." David prompted.
"We don't, but you're not going to believe me if I start talking too soon."
"Why wouldn't I believe you? What's up with Susan? How do you know her?"
Susan looked at the science professors. Just unbelievably lucky, she thought. "I don't," she confessed.
"I don't," she confessed.
A low, hard rumbling began. It was sickening, like the Earth itself was groaning.
The noise grew deeper. Bottles started to rattle behind the bar. There was a distant explosion, and then another.
On the TV above the bar, the baseball game went black. The TV was on, but the station was gone. The building shook violently, as though a hurricane was hitting it.
David sat there, confused. As you already know, he was not a man of action.
"This is why I came, David. To give you a way out of this disaster."
David leaned forward. "You know what's happening?"
She nodded. "The country has been attacked. This is the only place on campus that will still be standing ten minutes from now. We need to get under the table."
He glanced at the blank TV, then back at Jamie. She was gone. A second later, he felt a violent tug on his legs, and he, too, was under the table.
"David, that was the sound of Cleveland being destroyed. We are over 100 miles from the closest blast, but it will be days before we can go upstairs or outside. Right now, we are 30 feet underground in a building with stone walls that are two feet thick. We'll be okay."
David was trying to orient himself. "You knew," he said. "How could you know?"
He pushed himself up on one elbow. "And why would you use this time to find me?"
Jamie smiled for the first time. "That's simple, David. You got us into this, and you're the only one who can get us out."
**
Obviously, this is not a complete short story. It’s one of my attempts to practice writing a “fast opening” that could one day become a book.
**
Doubts vs. Ego
It hits you late at night. You're sleeping peacefully, when you feel a sharp jab in your abdomen. Looking down through the darkness, your eyes seem to spot a tiny creature, perhaps four inches tall, carrying a harpoon in one hand and a briefcase in the other. Once again, he jabs the harpoon into your belly.
"You can't forget about me that easily," he screams. You can barely hear him, because four-inch people can't scream that loud. "You can't just ignore Doubts. I have a long list for you to study."
Although the pain in your gut seems real, you know this has to be a dream. Still, sometimes it's best just to play along. You're just about to respond to this angry little visitor when a tugging sensation distracts you. Next thing you know, a new figure, five inches tall, stands on your ear and climbs up to perch on your forehead.
"Cool your jets, Doubts," says the new presence. "Stuff those worries back in your case and go bug a less fortunate soul. Our friend here," Ego tweaks your nose, "Has a world of opportunity ahead."
Holding off a sneeze, you decide you like this new advocate, casually dressed in sailing attire and sipping a tiny gin and tonic.
Doubts is not convinced. "Ego! Just like you to ignore reality. A slowing world economy. Disruption everywhere. No such thing as security or a clear career path. You call that opportunity?"
Ego stifles a yawn. "No wonder you never get invited to parties. Try to get this through your head. Talent and effort can overcome any obstacle, especially effort. Our friend here is willing to work hard, really hard. Effort will bring advancement, prestige, and a generous income."
"Generous income!" Doubts shrieks, "Maybe it's generous before taxes, house payments, car payments and child care. Do you know what it costs to send a child to college these days?"
The argument heats up, with Ego hustling down to your chin and Doubts jumping up and down on your stomach and large intestine. Despite your personal stake in the debate, you grow weary and distracted. It's not the first time you've had your body used as a battleground between Doubts and Ego.
Fortunately, Ego keeps in shape. Being taller, larger and more extroverted than Doubts, Ego generally gains the upper hand. Still, Doubts is persistent, always tossing in one last jab after the battle has supposedly ended. That really bugs you, especially since antacid is normally required to heal Doubts's last little jabs.
Tonight, you decide to make your opinion clear. Gently removing Ego from your chin, you sit up suddenly, sending Doubts tumbling to the sheets.
"You know," you say with a wink at Ego, "There is one strong doubt I have." Picking up Doubts with your free hand, you continue, "I doubt there's any benefit in continuing this conversation."
Ego likes the way you think, and notices your glance towards the gleaming object on your dresser. "Electric, isn't it?" Ego observes.
You nod as you rise and head for the pencil sharpener. A moment later, after Doubts's cries have ceased, you add, "Handy little object, even in a digital age."
**
Switch Day
On March 1, 2024 and on every tenth day since, one percent of the human race switches consciousness with a random person elsewhere on the planet... and remains in their body until the next Switch Day, when they switch back.
During those ten days—if you have switched—you live the life of the other person. If they are injured or killed, you share the same fate. Most people experience dramatic shifts in their age, gender, health, knowledge, skills and experiences. 100% forget their original identity until they return with complete recall of their ten-day Switch.
On Switch Day One, Greg, a CEO from Chicago, suddenly found himself in a crowded, squalid refugee camp in war-torn Syria. Accustomed to luxury and power, he faced the harsh realities of scarcity, danger and chaos. During his ten days, he ate three times and was injured twice.
Lena, a fashion designer in Paris renowned for her haute couture creations, became a sweatshop worker in Bangladesh. In a stifling and cramped factory, she toiled for long hours under severe conditions to produce the very garments she typically designed. On her return, she left the fashion industry.
Mark, a Silicon Valley entrepreneur, became a child laborer in the dusty streets of a small mining town in Congo. For the first seven days, he mined the minerals necessary for the gadgets his company produces. On day eight, his left leg was crushed in a mine accident. Mark still lives with that injury today.
Amanda, a wealthy socialite from New York, switched with a homeless single mother in Rio de Janeiro. She slept in alleys and picked food scraps out of garbage cans.
On the other side of each switch, another human being learned firsthand that another way of living is possible. Over time, this knowledge began to erode generations worth of trauma and despair.
Some say God changed the rules to make the planet more equitable. Others think aliens intervened to stop human beings from destroying each other. However it came about, in the course of one year, Switch Day raised the level of empathy and compassion on the planet to an unprecedented level. Since that time, power and resources have shifted dramatically across our civilization.
**
PreMergency
Two miles into her hike, Robin was wondering how much further it was to the ridge.
Following instructions from the owner of the guest ranch, she had begun her hike by recruiting three of the seven Australian Shepherds who lived on the ranch. The dogs would give plenty of notice to the bears and other wildlife that lived in the woods of British Columbia.
Robin hiked past the pasture that was home to about 40 horses and followed the twisting path through the woods. It was a gorgeous early morning, and the cool temperatures kept her comfortable and energized.
She heard the dogs barking up ahead. A few strides later, she had her first glimpse of the clearing at the top of the ridge and was surprised to see the dogs surrounding a man who was sitting cross-legged on a big boulder. Their tails were wagging enthusiastically, so she decided to trust their instincts.
"Hey," the man said with a big grin, "You found my secret hiding place."
"I didn't mean to bother you," Robin responded.
"No worries. Besides, you brought some of my friends with you." He held out his hand. "I'm Jake, staying at the ranch just like you."
"Robin," she said, shaking his hand.
She sat down on a rock opposite Jake. She looked out over the vista, which stretched for dozens of miles. Nothing but wilderness and blue skies. Heaven.
"It's great that you meditate," said Robin. I've tried it off and on."
"It's part of my job, literally. We're required to meditate and exercise consistently."
Robin looked back at Jake. He was about 30, lean and strong, with close-cropped hair. She couldn't figure out what his line of work was, so she asked, "What sort of job requires meditation?"
"PreMergency crews."
"Pre Mergency? As in before an emergency?"
Jake smiled. He liked explaining his job, especially since less than 100 people in the world had so far been trained to do it.
"I'm part of a test program where we respond to potential medical emergencies before they happen. The meditation and exercise requirement is because we're constantly showing up on people's doorsteps and telling them they are just minutes away from a heart attack or other life-threatening problem. We need to project calm, assertive energy, or otherwise, the person might freak and die."
Robin narrowed her eyes. She was trying to decide if he was being sincere or putting her on. But he really did project calm and assertive energy, so she decided to believe him.
"How do you know someone is about to face an emergency?"
"Lots of ways. We have almost two dozen wireless biosensors that monitor heart rate, pulse, and other vital signs. With elderly patients, we monitor movement – movement is good, by the way. We use different sensors for different patients. Over 35,000 patients are enrolled in the program, ranging from the very sick to some who are in better shape than you or me."
"No way."
"Yes, way. All the signals go into an automated center, and when anything varies from normal, someone like me goes out to check. I'm somewhere between an emergency medic and God."
Robin took a moment to digest this. It was a lot to absorb at 7 a.m. She imagined a middle-aged man sitting in a big easy chair, rubbing his chest to wish away indigestion, when the doorbell rings. Jake is at the door and says something like: you're not going to rub away that pain; let's get you to the hospital and stop that heart attack before it happens.
"Why do you say God?" she asked.
"In the past three months, I've saved twelve people who most likely would have died if I hadn't shown up at their door. One was a mother who gave birth three weeks later; she was going to name her child after me, but it turned out to be a girl. In most of the cases, the person didn't even know anything was wrong. It sure feels like divine intervention."
Robin smiled. "What a nice surprise to meet God this morning."
I am Bruce Kasanoff, an executive coach who can help you get what you want. Book a one-hour call with me and I’ll prove it.