“I thought you’d say that. My other question is, like, so, there are always more men than women in a chemistry lab or software start-up, but . . .” I didn’t feel like I had to finish, so I didn’t.
Dr. Sealy tapped his teeth with his fingernails for a second before he began speaking.
“You’re absolutely right. It’s a problem, but we don’t know how to fix it. Ultimately, the pool of applicants has been overwhelmingly male. I think that has to do with a lot of things. Part of it is our founders, who have male audiences. Part of it is that this is risky, and women tend to be more risk-averse and less motivated by being a part of something world-changing.” He saw me getting irritated and continued, “And that’s just tendencies, not absolutes, of course. You’re here, obviously, and you’ve already done world-changing work in your short career. But we’re going to hire the best candidates from our pool of applicants. We don’t consider race or gender, and we don’t see any reason to. We look at talent first, and your talent is impressive at all levels.”
This, if anything, made me more uncomfortable. People who “don’t consider race or gender” sure seem to end up hiring almost all white guys, almost as if they’re absolutely considering race and gender. I didn’t say that, though. I tried to make the less confrontational argument.
“But aren’t you worried you’re going to make a product just for guys if only guys work here? Or that the culture might become unwelcome for other kinds of people? Or that you’ll end up doing something dumb because you have one dominant perspective?”
“Miranda, all of those things are legitimate concerns, but trust me when I say we’ve got to move fast here. Our first responsibility is to the problem.”
He said those words, “the problem,” like they were mentioned a lot at Altus.
“So I guess you also have questions for me?” I asked.
He did. I answered them. Thirty minutes in, he invited Tom, the HR guy from our Skype interview, in. He talked to us about company policy and secrecy and how they didn’t have to worry about hackers at Altus because almost nothing they did was actually on the internet.
All in all, it felt like the day was going really well.
And then Peter Petrawicki walked in.
—
“Miranda Beckwith!” His smile seemed warm and genuine. His hair, also, seemed authentically but artfully tousled. He wore a white short-sleeve crushed-cotton shirt and khaki slacks. He was tan and looked stronger and healthier than he had on TV. His smile, though, didn’t reach all the way to his eyes, and I felt my chances of getting a job at Altus dropping to very near zero percent.
“I almost never talk to candidates at your level before they’re officially hired, but I think you can understand why I might make an exception in your case.”
I sat silently, because I knew that was the safe choice, and also because I had no idea what to say.
“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I was an asshole. An asshole and an idiot. I wanted all the wrong things, and I made the world a worse place while your friend was trying to make it a better place.”
Every second I stayed quiet made me feel like I was guilty, but all of the things popping into my head to say felt either confrontational or obsequious.
Dr. Sealy and Tom looked just about as comfortable as I felt. At least I wasn’t alone.
Finally, Peter continued, “I guess my question is, how much do you hate me?”
As soon as there was a single thought in my head, I said it: “I’m not good at hating. My brain makes excuses. It looks for reasons to forgive.” I realized I hadn’t been meeting his eyes, so I looked up at him. They were blue. Powder blue. I just Googled gemstones because I wanted to tell you exactly the color they were: They were the color of polished blue beryl.
I should have stopped right then. That was a good answer. It was honest and not dangerous. But then . . .
“I thought you wanted people to pay attention to you, and you’d found a way to make that happen. I never thought you cared much about what you were saying because you seemed too smart to believe any of it. I figured there was something sad inside of you that made you need that attention. Those followers.” My brain was shouting, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, but I kept going. “I still think that.”
Peter looked calm, like we were talking about the weather; Tom and Dr. Sealy both had looks of proper concern on their faces.
“But then it all went to shit and April died, and you, well, you vanished from that world. It felt like remorse to me, so even then I didn’t hate you. So, how much do I hate you? Not at all, but I used to pity you, and now I don’t anymore because now you’re doing something actually interesting.” I held his eyes as long as I could. Mercifully, he looked away for just a moment, allowing me to lean back in my chair. I hadn’t been aware that I’d leaned forward.
Peter looked around the room for a second. He pushed the rolling chair away from the conference room table and walked out of the room without saying a word.
I looked at Dr. Sealy. “I’m sorry I wasted your time. I thought the best thing would be for me to be honest.”
—
To get to the dorms we walked across well-lit but rough ground. It didn’t feel like America; it felt like adventure. It also felt like that’s how they wanted it to feel. Dr. Sealy dropped me off with an appropriately contrite goodbye.
I entered the building into a common room with a bunch of couches and a big shared kitchen. I immediately spotted Paxton and Sid talking to some Altus guys.
