Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Wait, what?” Pierre asked. “All I did was call you a nerd. What are you talking about?”
Derek shrugged then turned to me. “That’s not offensive, by the way. We’re all nerds.”
“That’s not how I see you guys at all,” I said. “It’s a derogatory term.”
He gave a slight smile before he went back to eating. “Thanks for having my back anyway.”
I liked spending time with the guys, but I knew I couldn’t get too chummy with them. It would cross the line from coworkers to friends, so I wanted to have some professional distance. Because I wasn’t one of them. I took my food and walked into the office so I could let them talk about the mumbo jumbo I couldn’t understand.
When I sat on the couch, Derek walked inside with his food and joined me. He sat across from me.
I was surprised to see him there, but I didn’t question it. He’d been on his feet all day, and maybe he just wanted to relax on the comfy couch.
He put a few chips in his mouth and chewed. “How’s it going over there?”
“Well, it’s a bit lonely without listening to you guys scream at one another, set something on fire, and then cheer when things go right…”
He chuckled. “Turn on the radio.”
I chuckled at his comeback. “Still not as interesting.”
He took another bite of his sandwich.
“How are things going on your propulsion…thing?” I listened to every word he said, but it was hard to remember all the details because I didn’t understand the science aspect. I could rarely remember the name.
He shrugged. “It’s rough.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out, Derek.”
“I’m not worried about figuring it out. But rocket science is different from all other fields because you can’t push your work through a simulator and get results, punch it into a computer and have your software check everything. The only real way to know if it’ll work is to launch the rocket. It’s like launching software without a single bug—practically impossible.” He bit into his sandwich again.
I’d never thought about it that way before. “Wow, that is rough.”
He shrugged as he chewed. “Perfection is next to godliness…and I’m no god.”
“Well, you look like one.”
His eyes moved to my face.
I didn’t even realize what I’d said until it was too late. “I mean…you’re pretty close.”
Derek didn’t seem to read into what I said and brushed it off. “So, the office?”
“I filed a lot of your paperwork and scanned it into a private server. That way, you can go through everything by month and year. I kept the hard copies, but having digital versions is just easier for you since you’re never at the office.”
“What if someone hacks in to it?”
“I hired a programmer from MIT to make sure that doesn’t happen. He said the firewalls are impenetrable.”
He paused before he took another bite, looking at me like he was impressed by my work.
“I’ll give you the username and password later. You’re the only one with access. But I recommend you establish a second username for Lily or me, with restrictions, so we can pull data if we ever need to do something for you.”
He remained quiet. With that intense look on his face, he was impossible to read because his mind was working furiously.
“There was something else—”
“You did well, Emerson. Thank you.” He forced the words out of his mouth, as if he had to compel himself to show his manners, as if it wasn’t intuitive to him at all.
“You’re welcome, Derek.”
“I’m sorry… What were you saying?”
Since he was so hard and callous, it made his gratitude more meaningful because he wouldn’t express it unless he really felt that way. The bad made the good even better. “I was looking at your website, and you’ve made it pretty much impossible to get in touch with you.”
“Intentionally.”
“But what do you do about publicity requests? I’m sure there’re a lot of people who want to interview you about your work. A TED Talk. Something like that.”
“Not interested.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?” He finished one half of his sandwich then wiped his fingers with a napkin. He leaned back into the couch, his knees spread apart, his shoulders muscular and broad.
“It does to me.”
His eyes were locked on to mine.
“I would never pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do. I’m simply asking as your friend.”
Another long stretch of silence passed, and it felt like he would hold it forever. Then he leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. He looked at the floor for a while before he composed his answer in his head. “I work as hard as I do for myself, not for the fame or glory. I have no vanity. No ego.”
“Doing interviews wouldn’t make you egotistical.”
“But I don’t like the attention. I don’t want to sit there while someone interrogates me—”