Kathe Koja
“‘All observation is not just a discovering, but also a bringing forth, and how the observer is constituted is indeed decisive.’ Kierkegaard wrote that.”
Silence.
“Are you familiar with Kierkegaard, Jason?”
Silence.
“I’ve spoken with Martin, and he’s willing to drop all charges if you resign,” Martin whom he has known since Yale, Martin the Nonstop Studios COO, Martin who had personally onboarded Jason Rice—now slumping on an ostrich leather sofa in this C-suite lounge, where a cycling wall screen displays the Nonstop brand ethos, one stated tenet of which, radical transparency, Jason has actionably and criminally failed to honor—Martin is livid about that, Martin told him Jason Rice is an amoral prick, he thinks he can steal whatever he wants!
Jason Rice can conceptualize challenging consumer-facing products. Ephemeral products.
Yes he can.
He can do that very well.
Yes. But Tom, you need to understand what you’re getting if you take him, if Insomnious takes him—
And his non-compete.
And his non-compete. You can have his employee spa pass too, did you want that?
I’m trying to help you resolve this quietly, Martin.
“Jason. You understand that what I’m offering you now is a way forward—”
“Forward to what? Jesus christ!” Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes red from tears or cocaine or both, Jason is apparently as dramatic as he is talented. “I don’t know what you heard, or what they told you, but all I did was try to elevate this company—this industry!—to a higher good! All I did—”
“You can still do that. We can do it together,” by creating the platform that he has been trying to conceptualize, oh yes, ever since Yale, a way to interface humanity’s eternal and inchoate spiritual needs with a business product that meets those needs; his research indicates entertainment is by far the best route, people love to play games, he has been following a very popular game called Fear of God . . . Has amoral Jason Rice ever felt the way he felt at Yale? that afternoon outside the registrar’s office, when the inner thunder of the divine, the voice of the divine, the voice of God spoke inside his own body, shook his body, he felt as if he were not dying but being born, torn into existence by that voice; when it ceased he almost fell, his knees gave out; when he stood up he was a different man. “You obviously orient toward spirituality, but you’ve been lacking a serious spiritual challenge.”
“I do. I mean I do need one,” blinking those wet eyes at him, rising from the sofa and smoothing his wrinkled black jacket, handsome Jason who not only attempted IP embezzlement from Nonstop but seduced Martin’s dancer boyfriend and took him to Ibiza, Jason apparently has a strong and self-defeating drive to occupy and possess. “So what would the challenge be? The offer?”
“We’ll talk about that elsewhere—”
—calm and almost smiling as he shepherds Jason out of the suite, out of the building, into the waiting towncar and the sleepless future: so many things to discuss and to do, to enable Jason Rice to enable his platform, to finally, finally, hear and feel and die for that voice again.
