Rafael Yglesias - Dr. Neruda's Cure for Evil

Copley smiled again, relaxing. He was amused (understandably) by my pedantic manner. “I know the effect I have on people. It’s calculated. What you’re talking about may be a secret to psychiatrists, but it’s no secret in American business. Management skills are key in today’s competitive environment. Technical skills, what you call creative ability, are so specialized that you can’t expect them to be combined with leadership. Andy, for example, barely has time to dress himself, much less keep track of the marketplace.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” I said, bursting with enthusiasm. Our decaffeinated cappuccinos had arrived. I drained half of mine in a gulp and leaned over the table, excited. “But I don’t think even you appreciate the emotional leadership you provide. We live in a world where the family has deteriorated, community has disintegrated, religion is merely a sentiment. Today’s extended family, today’s community, today’s moral leadership is provided by business. And today’s corporate manager, unfairly, has become father, community leader, and priest — all wrapped into one. The psychological implications of your role are enormous.”

Copley raised a hand to his smoothed-back hair and checked that it was in place. I finished my cappuccino, leaned back, and watched the pensive, calculating Copley, stroking his eyebrows. His fingers eventually trailed down his starved face, enjoying the accomplishment of his thinness, thinking hard, thinking himself into my trap.

Stick was slow to take the bait. Was the delay caused by a protective intuition he chose to ignore? He waited until he paid the check. (He had scoffed at my offer to split it.) “You think Andy’s under too much pressure, don’t you?”

“No,” I said quickly, too quickly. “This is silly. I hardly know him.”

“Give me a break, Rafe. Stop holding back. I’ll take what you have to say with a grain of salt.” He stood up. “Let’s walk to where you’re staying. I’ll have the car follow us.”

The streets were wet. It had rained lightly sometime during our meal. The temperature must have dropped twenty degrees. He asked for Susan’s address and gave it to the driver. We strolled toward Fifth Avenue. “Let’s hear your best guess about Andy.”

“It’s only a guess.”

“Understood. Come on.”

“He’s going to fail. I can’t identify, as I said earlier, whether it’s punishment or neurotic self-protection, but he’s isolating himself from his co-workers, developing symptoms of paranoia, and he’s pressing. I don’t know enough about computers to have any idea if he’s actually done harm to the design yet, but he will, unless either his guilt or his vulnerability is relieved. I know you have a successful company, and I don’t wish to insult you, but the atmosphere down there is dangerous. Morale is astonishingly low. I made a mistake with Gene that you’re repeating with Andy.”

Copley stopped walking. I pretended not to notice until I had gone ahead a few steps. “What’s that?” he asked, not catching up.

I walked back to him. “You’ve put Andy in a role he’s not fit for.”

“And just how did you do that with Gene?” Copley asked, daring me.

I took the dare. “I encouraged Gene to go after your job.”

For a moment, Copley’s stone face seemed to have truly become stone. “What?” he barked.

“Surely you knew. I made a mistake. I decided that because Gene was responsible for creating all your products he should be aiming to run the company. Look, you asked me to be blunt. If you’d rather—”

“No!” Copley’s tone was too loud. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, a hand touching his face again, fingers caressing his sunken cheeks. The hand came away. “Go on.”

“Everybody at your company knows Gene was its creative heart. For God’s sake, even your goddamn telephone was designed by Gene.”

“Who told you that?” Copley asked.

“Nobody had to. He was its emotional leader. Who put up the basketball net for Andy? I bet that was Gene, too.” Copley nodded, slowly. I continued, “Every machine your men design today is first tested theoretically on what?”

“Black Dragon.”

“You told me Dragon was Andy’s design. Tha t was an exaggeration, wasn’t it? Gene built it.”

“He couldn’t have done it without Andy.”

“And who hired Andy?”

“I did.”

“On whose recommendation?”

“Anyone would have hired Andy. I told you, we didn’t expect him to accept our offer.”

“Why do you think he accepted? Because of you? Who interviewed him? Who showed him the labs? Who talked to him about what he’d be doing? Gene.”

Copley nodded. “I knew it,” he said to himself. He grinned at me and repeated, “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” I didn’t conceal my irritation. My obsequious manner had vanished.

“I knew he was after my job.”

“Not your job. I misspoke. He wanted a partnership. I told him he deserved it.”

“That’s why he had an affair with Halley.”

“No,” I said. “He loved her.”

“Of course he loved her. But he thought I would let him have a piece of the company if he was her husband.”

“No. That’s your vanity talking. Maybe part of his attraction to her was because she was your daughter. But that wasn’t opportunism. That was true respect for you. Gene loved you as much as he loved her.” I came close, pushing my face at his. In the body language of popular psychology: I invaded his personal space. “They all know. You deliberately destroyed Gene and they know it. That’s going to cost you.”

Copley stepped back. Not a movement of surrender. He stiffened. “You want revenge.”

“Revenge?” I laughed. “For what?”

“You’re crazy if you think—”

I cut him off. “Revenge for my mistake? I don’t blame you.”

“I’m not a stupid man, Doctor. You said that I destroyed Gene.”

“I can’t blame you for your essential nature. That’s a basic principle of psychiatry. No. I misjudged the situation. I thought you were merely a salesman living off Gene’s talent. I didn’t understand you are a leader. Gene was happy as your second lieutenant. He needed your guidance, just as Andy needed Gene’s supervision. It’s your character to be a leader, that’s your genius. Of course, when he mutinied, you crushed him. You had no choice.”

Stick turned away, squinting at the damp streets. He talked to them, thinking aloud, “And you expect me to believe that’s what you’ll report to Edgar?” He looked at me fast, as if to catch me at something. “That it was your fault?”

Edgar. I had forgotten Edgar was my leverage. That’s why Copley was anxious. For a moment, I had hoped it was guilt, but no, he reacted entirely out of self-preservation. “I came for my own purpose. I’m just what you think I am. A harmless academic. You said it yourself, I don’t want to win. Good night.” I turned and walked briskly.

Copley reached my side effortlessly, with the silent tread of a predator. Of course, he was also wearing sandals. “Let’s rewind the tape. I apologize. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You always think in terms of power and manipulation,” I said, continuing to walk. “Both are foreign to my character. I came only for knowledge.”

“I’d like your help.” Copley put his hand on my arm and stopped me. “You said yourself that the corporate family would be a good subject for a book. I could use your observations while you’re doing research. Obviously, I overreacted to Gene. I know Andy’s in over his head. I like to win — you’re right. But there are lots of ways to win.”

A wave of people came out of a building, exiting from a party. They were loud and cheerful. One of the men stumbled into Copley. He was a beefy college kid. Nevertheless, Copley easily pushed him off.