Go was technically off today. But he’d decided to come into the office anyway, this morning for our meeting with Norio. He’d said he also wanted to get a few things squared away with his stateside locations while it was still Christmas Eve over there before they all went dark on Christmas Day. But I’m sure Go will be eager to return home to his wife, Nyla, and their three daughters. Well, not sure of it. With Go, it’s often hard to tell whether he’s doing something out of real desire or because it’s already been outlined in one of his infamous plans. But either way, this meeting is only scheduled to go until 5:30 a.m., and I doubt today’s agenda involves letting it extend much beyond that.
Chris, the blond assistant Go brought over with him from Portland, must have decided to take the day off, as well. His usual post is abandoned when I arrive in Go’s office, leaving me free to go right in, which I decide to do when I see his open door.
I’m a couple of minutes early, but maybe we can call Norio now and get the morning’s business out of the way so that Go can return home to his Christmas morn—
I stop short in the open doorway, my heart freezing…then dropping to my feet.
At first, I simply stare, unable to believe the image I’m seeing on the computer monitor, which sits on a desk directly behind the man Go is currently meeting with via the prototype of the touchscreen wall we plan to launch to market in the coming year.
I don’t recognize the man speaking about some engineering problem too technical for me to understand just in passing. He’s most likely someone from Go Robotics or GoX, the two other companies Go founded, on his way to becoming a tech billionaire. But I do recognize one of the two black women in the picture on the man’s monitor.
It’s Kristal. Kristal Kringle!
She has a drum strapped around her neck, and she’s wearing a pair of manga character leggings and a red top as opposed to a holly green dress and biker shorts, but other than that, she looks exactly the way I remember her, including the elf hat on top of her head. She doesn’t seem to want the camera’s attention. The woman standing beside her beams and makes a heart with her hands while Kristal smiles shyly with her eyes cast downward.
It’s the same smile that’s been haunting me since January.
My mouth dries, and memories of that night flood through my mind as I come further into Go’s office without knocking to ask, “Who is that? Who is that woman on your computer screen?”
The man startles and turns to look over his shoulder…just as the image fades to one of just him and the woman who was beaming in the last photo. She’s smiling brightly in this one, too. This time on the opposite side of a tandem bike stopped on the San Francisco Bay Bridge. But she’s no longer wearing an elf hat.
“Ah, that’s my wife, actually,” the man answered. “We took that trip shortly after I asked her to marry—”
“No, not that woman. The one in the picture before that, the other woman in the elf hat,” I say impatiently, cutting him off again and probably killing any overall impression he has of the Japanese as an unfailingly polite people.
The man blinks, looking a bit baffled, but answers, “Oh, if she was wearing an elf hat, then it was most likely one of my wife’s innumerous cousins—speaking of which, I should ring off. I told my wife I’d help her prepare for tomorrow night’s holiday party with her family. But Go, I’ll send you a full report on that propulsion issue as soon as we’re back from break after the new year. And Mr. Nakamura, it was an honor to meet you, even briefly. We here at GoX very much admire the work coming out of GoNoToRobo. Real cutting edge stuff. If you’re ever in San Francisco, please let me know, and perhaps we might meet up for drinks.”
“Thank you for your invitation,” I answer. “But would you mind telling me more about your wife’s cousin? Is her name—”
The screen suddenly blinks to black.
What in the…
My eyes cut over to Go, who has his mobile out and, apparently, used it to kill the call.
“Why…why did you do that?” I demand, anger and confusion coursing through me.
Go looks to the side as if he’s not quite sure I’m asking him a serious question. “Because small talk with my Chief Project Manager isn’t in today’s plan,” he answers, his voice its usual monotone.
Usually, I don’t mind how impolite Go is by both Japanese and American standards. But today…
“I needed more information from…” I struggle, then have to ask, “May I have his name? I must get in contact with him.”
