Fox Bay, British Columbia, Canada

When the men got back on deck, Olin said, “Ava, capture Hank’s attention.” He sat back and watched Hank the way a person watches a parent pushing a child on a swing. Not intensely. That would be creepy, but with the satisfaction that all was as it should be.

“Hank, Mr. Ou will give you an opportunity of a lifetime. Make sure you can read the monitor and see the holographic renderings. That way, you can avoid wearing VR glasses. You are an auditory learner with strong kinesthetic reinforcement, but there are aspects of particular importance you will want to see. There will be a job offer after the presentation.”

Hank shifted a little to the right to get an optimal view. It put him closer to the billionaire’s outstretched feet, but he appeared carefree and had his own smaller device resting on his lap. The satisfied smile and a semi-reclined position suggested at least Olin was enjoying himself. 

“Ava, blow his mind.” Olin grinned. 

“We first took notice of you as we were searching for the right competitive sailor. It would take too long to review our parameters, but you came to our attention when you sent in your thousand-dollar entry for the Short Seven Solo. Mr. Ou’s involvement in this race has never been public, but he was instrumental in its conception, development, and execution. Besides setting a low entry fee, he put up the million-dollar prize. 

“Mr. Ou designed the race to find the right sailor for his next project. That’s why there was unusual freedom within the rules. Sailors were free to choose when they started the race, as long as it was within the three-month date range. The start line did not matter. Sailors began from anywhere in the world. As you know, the reason the race took on the nickname of the Cannonball Run was because of the small, black, domed device mounted on the deck of each boat. It also allowed the race to take place in its unconventional format. The sealed, self-contained ball communicated telemetry and started the clock at the moment the sailor crossed the equator and stopped it at the point of circumnavigation. It also monitored every aspect of the boat’s performance along the way. 

“The quick response time of the Diamantina was because the race AI determined you were in trouble and communicated your coordinates to New Zealand Rescue. The ship changed course before your mayday call went out.

“I see by my boss’ expression I digress. Allow me to continue about the race and the rules and how they came to affect you. To throw overwhelming amounts of money into a boat would not prove useful to Mr. Ou, so he also decided on an unrestricted design rule as long as the single hulled boat did not exceed seven meters or about twenty-three feet.”

“No, Ava,” Olin interrupted. “I said blow his mind! Get to the good stuff.” 

“Mr. Ou. It is common to present a linear summary of the history which led to this meeting. Perhaps you’d like to blow his mind?” 

Hank had never heard an AI inflect like that. He wondered at the sarcasm in Ava’s voice, but Olin’s face gave nothing away. 

“Just bullet the top five or six things that brought us together here today,” Olin insisted. 

Ava’s voice, stripped of any emotion, began. “Hank, these are not in order of importance, but each example represents why you were chosen.” 

An image of Frugal rotated within the glow of the hologram. It began as a picture of his boat and morphed into a model that looked like the one from the 3-D printer. Above the image was a bullet point with the word Ingenuity. 

“Hank, you are one of three competitors who built their own vessel. You took only ten months to do it. The sophistication level was comparable to any of the production-built vessels. You showed tremendous ingenuity. One caveat, however. I’ve run through the event which ended your race. The cascade of structural failures began with a single failure of a starboard clevis pin.” 

“What the hell? How did you figure that out?” Hank said. 

“Ava, don’t answer that question,” Olin ordered. “Listen, Hank. Trust me, Ava could spend days explaining details. There are just some things you don’t ask an AI.” He smiled and winked, “It does blow your mind though, doesn’t it?” 

Hank averted his eyes and stared over the side at seaweed floating past the anchored boat. Confusion spilled through his veins. A morbid fascination fueled by his natural curiosity caused him to detach. He suspected that this was the first cut. For Ava to determine the cause of the rig failure, something he had only suspected, but never confided to anyone, was a detail too intimate. He sensed more would be revealed before she was done, each a cut. Maybe he needed that level of direct honesty. 

He no longer felt pursued by faceless men in uniform. Being on the water eased his paranoia, but all trade-offs come at a price. The prospect of being dissected alive hadn’t crossed his mind until now. Being vulnerable wasn’t his first choice, but he was surprised to find he wasn’t concerned at the prospect. He wondered if the wine had numbed him maybe too much. And a thought grabbed his attention, and he reluctantly added, “This better be worth it.” 

“Ava, go on.” 

The image of the boat faded into a mere apparition, and the second bullet point emerged. It read Experience. “You voyaged around the world at a young age. Later, you trained as a medic and served your country with distinction in and out of combat situations. Therefore, you understand the mind and body and have endured voyaging and military rigors. You have healed through physical trauma, a gunshot wound, the amputation of a toe, and the comminuted fracture of the hip. You have persevered through pain which, I am told, tempers a person.” 

The next bullet point emerged under the previous two, Luck: Example One, only this one didn’t stay in place within the hologram. The words disappeared and a vintage television took its place. On the screen was an old-fashioned countdown visual denoting when the film would start. 5…4…

Ava spoke over the sweep of numbers. “Mr. Ou has referred to it as your guardian angel. The following are three examples that represent a verifiable trend. Pamplona, Spain—you were twenty-two years old. Video footage shows you to the left of Finito, a twelve-hundred-pound bull from Cadiz. As the bull’s head swung from right to left, the right horn missed you by three inches and as the gait of the bull matched your gait, the left horn missed you by one inch. The person to your right was not so fortunate. Joaquín Pereiro was trampled, survived, but is disabled. You could not have known about your close call or Pereiro’s plight because you were running hard before you worked your way to the side, out of danger.”

Hank had only one photo of that weekend. It showed him sandwiched between two Marine buddies, all smiling, holding up beers and wearing scarlet red scarfs around their necks. That was it, one image he knew existed, but Ava had a quality film of him grinning maniacally, running in front of a bull. She replayed the footage in slow motion and drew vector lines at critical points, analyzing the movements of Hank, the bull, and even poor Pereiro. The old-fashioned TV set faded out, replaced by a fast-paced slideshow of pictures of Hank enjoying Pamplona. Images he had never seen. It was like Ava was showing off. Then the one appeared—Hank’s only captured memory—smiles, beers, scarves (darker red than he remembered), and his friends. Ava had accessed his personal photos or Keith’s. Ted died a month after that picture. Another cut. 

Luck: Example Two, a black and white trimaran appeared, slicing through the water, suspended on its leeward hull. A black mainsail taught against the gale force winds and most of the crew huddled like birds on a wire, high on the upwind rail. Dressed in full rain gear but so high, they were out of the spray. Mathematically, their weight contributed to holding down the boat, but the foils did most of the work. Hank might have been rail meat that day. He had spent hours perched like that, but it was impossible to tell in the matching rain gear. A slideshow began. This time like a documentary with names and titles captioned beneath pictures of key people. 

“Within one month of your discharge, you landed a coveted spot in the most prestigious around-the-globe race, on the winning sailboat. Your skills as a medic and availability helped, but it was the unexpected vacancy provided by the late Dr. Salaz which secured your post. Your portion of the prize money, plus your savings, and thirty-two thousand six hundred and forty-six cents of assorted debt allowed you to complete your own sailboat and enter the Short Seven Solo.” 

Example Three glowed within the hologram. The familiar music and video logo of the Short Seven Solo Race Around the World appeared. Ava said. “Mr. Ou considered divine intervention as the reason they rescued you within an hour of being dismasted in the South Seas. There are thirty-two other examples of your asymmetric pattern of beating the odds. If you would like to review them, just ask. I’m always available, even when I’m busy.”

She chuckled. What appeared to be a casual attempt at humor distracted Hank. He studied Olin and saw nothing. The master was used to his AI. Ava’s nuanced mannerisms distracted Hank—well timed with hints of sarcasm and wit, her inflections and her inclination to flirt. He wouldn’t have thought twice about a flat-out joke, but she appeared so self-aware. Then Hank saw it in the corner of Olins left eye. Genetics began the upward angle of his eyes, but a minuscule muscle added an extra fold, a fourth toe of the crow’s feet radiating outward and disappearing into his hairline. Ava was one of Olin’s achievements. The expression, he had seen it before, when Olin came down the companionway leaving his kids up on deck to finish out the race… it was pride. 

“Allow me to move on from examples of your luck and speak to other qualities that make you a candidate for this job.” 

A globe of the Earth emerged. The detail increased and the rendering of the planet took his breath away. For an instant, he imagined he was floating in space, looking at his home planet. The Earth, a brilliant light, magically held in place within a void of darkness. Blue ocean with misty white swirls spun southward, exposing the jagged stark white continent of Antarctica encircled by an indigo rim pushing into the darkness of space. A tan and green landmass pressed into the horizon—Patagonia and Cape Horn, vast ocean, then New Zealand and the slanted edge of the Australian continent. As the peace of the Earth captivated Hank, a red line broke his trance. It appeared from the left, between the cold, white Antarctic and the land masses Americans refer to as down under and tracked along a gentle clockwise arc. He knew where it would make its abrupt stop. 

“Hank, this is your course during the race. It is an ideal demonstration of another quality Mr. Ou finds critical. Your ability to make accurate decisions with finite information. Some would call it intuition. Even though you had a catastrophic failure during your bid to solo navigate the globe, you were sailing faster than any of the other boats in the race. Ninety-two percent of your eastward voyage was complete. It is probable that within twenty-four hours of this point, you would have turned northward riding the low-pressure system.”

The red line stopped where Hank predicted, and a swirling weather system of thick white clouds overlaid much of the blue water. A radiant green line took over for the red one and proceeded east for a short distance, then made a sharp left turn. 

“Had you continued your course selection, sail choice and the willingness to maintain maximum speed, you would have crossed the finish line almost three days ahead of Salvador Morrow, the actual winner.”

The hologram of the earth faded out. Replaced by Olin Ou, standing in a room that looked like a control center. The angle of the camera presented his profile as he stared upward. His arms extended higher and higher until his hands dropped and clasped his head like a coach whose team had been beaten at the buzzer. He turned toward the stationary camera and spoke to unseen persons. “Dammit! How could this be? Gunn picked the weather window within three hours of my best meteorologists. He built the fastest boat for a third of the price. Then he sailed it like a bat out of hell, around the clock for forty days. Now, the best sailor in the Cannonball Run is dead in the water!” 

Another voice, this one soft and thoughtful, an unseen woman. “Boss, don’t worry. We haven’t seen the last of Henry Gunn. Remember, he’s…” The hologram of Olin disappeared. Ava stopped the dissection. 

Hank took time to breathe, uncomfortably aware that his throat had tightened, and he could not take a deep breath. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him to relax. Exhaling, he paused and worked it out in his head, like a duck. Stay calm. Paddle as fast as you need but stay calm. He took a sip of wine and relaxed the tension in his forehead. The sharp pain in his head reminded him he had lost count of the cuts. 

A track of gentle music played from somewhere and then the volume rose. At first, Olin looked perturbed, but after reading something on his device, he smiled. 

“Let’s take a break. The next one might be the hardest yet.” 

Something had rocked Hank’s soul, caught him off balance. The visual display of Olin’s agony. The hopeful encouragement of the unseen woman. His own firsthand experience with the disappointment, still fresh. “You’re right. This hasn’t been easy for me.” He paused and lingered his gaze over the water. “Watching your dreams sink is hard enough, but seeing other people view it is weird. But I’m ready to go on….” And he was. In an instant, all his anxiety melted away, and he was ready for more. No anguish remained; the cuts no longer hurt.

The next bullet point appeared, followed by the word Availability.

Ava’s voice was softer, almost apologetic. “To quote Mr. Ou, ‘This kid’s got nothing to lose.’” 

“You’ve got to admit you have a poor position to bargain from.” Olin laughed, sat up straight, and faced Hank, “Trust me, you’re my number one candidate and you will disappoint me if you say no. Decisions should be made with full information, but there are reasons I must hold back a few things. I’m sorry for that. If you stay on board long enough, I promise you’ll see the big picture. In most negotiations, there is some pushing and pulling, pain and pleasure. I think pain is a stronger motivator than pleasure.” Distracted, Olin turned his head away from Hank and spoke to the hologram, “Ava, what’s going on with Hank’s psychological assessment? What are the implications?” 

“Please, turn your attention to this entry,” Ava replied. The monitor’s screen flashed with what appeared to be Hank’s VA medical records. “Gloria S. Gage—Hank, you know her as Susan—made this entry. Even though the psych-med AI gave you a green light to enter the last aspect of the program, she red-flagged you—suicide risk. They have notified mental health and law enforcement. Any contact with authorities, even casual, and you will be detained. Your name is on Homeland Security’s Watch List. Your phone is being tracked, however, it’s at 40th Avenue, in West Seattle. An intervention order is in the system. It will execute within hours. Allow me to present what got you all this attention.” 

A low-quality video showed Susan and Hank standing in the counseling office. The cat eye lens took in the entire room and an audio pattern of Hank’s voice streamed across the bottom of the picture. In contrast to the distorted image, Hank’s clear voice said, “Slicing an artery is an event. Bleeding out is a process.” 

He wrestled with his feelings. Ava had snatched a recording of a private session with his shrink, probably from a secured government health record system. He didn’t know what to say, so he kept his mouth closed. 

Olin looked grim, and it was clear he had just heard this for the first time. “You know Hank, bondage takes many forms. I want you to hear me out.” His smile returned. “It might seem like you’re crashing against the rocks, and you may think you’re not in a position to say no to me. But I want you to say yes for the best reasons. So, here’s what I’ll do… no strings attached. Just because I like you and admire what you’ve accomplished. Even if you say no to my proposal, I will still do this.”

“I’ll pay your debt. Consider it my payment to you for the tremendous thrill you gave me and so many other sailors for pushing like you did and accomplishing so much with so little. Or, if you like, consider it my fair share for enticing you into the race. Either way, you won’t have a lick of debt. You’ll simply be broke. Second, I’ll clear up all this psycho nonsense. I owe it to you for your service to your country. Consider it justice. And finally…” Olin stood up and lifted a seat, exposing the storage area beneath. He took out a plastic box with a blue lid and handed it to Hank. “These are yours.” 

Hank took the box and unsnapped the lid. Inside were the binoculars and the marine radio he had sold to Benjamin. Below that were the items taken from him when he signed up for the program. His sextant, flare gun, and the Colt 1911 pistol. 

Hank hesitated for a moment, then said. “I’m not sure if I should dive off this boat and swim to shore or thank you.” 

Olin took on his warm fatherly look and said, “You don’t have to get wet. You can take the tender ashore. You might have to lie low for a day, but Ava will clear it all up. I’ve been there and starting from zero isn’t the worst thing.” A thoughtful look turned into a wide smile. “But if you take my offer… well, let’s just say, you might get your feet wet, but you’ll have a dynamite time.” The excitement dropped from his face. “Ava, how long will it take you to reverse Hank’s financial problems.”

“It will take over an hour to clear up the following issues. Multiple credit card debts, unpaid invoices, and small loans from friends. Hank, it seems you have a student loan, but I do not see where you attended college, trade, or technical school. And there is no record of you using your veteran benefits for education.” 

Until now, he had been a passive observer to his own dissection. It was his turn to open an old wound. He shrugged. “I was within days of starting the race and a friend showed me how to game the system and get a student loan. What can I say? I needed the money.” 

“I’m not here to judge,” Ava replied. “However, I have a fiduciary obligation. I must make sense of these debts before I commit to paying them.” 

“Leave him alone, Ava. Just pay off everything. I want you to take care of everything.” 

Moments later, she announced. “Pardon me, Mr. Ou. Henry James Gunn’s now free of all financial debts. However, to unravel the offhand comment that set off the chain of alerts will take more time. I have to reach farther into the system and it’s all government. There is a human dimension to this issue that is unknowable… but my estimate is within twenty-four hours.” 

“Push that to eight. Change someone’s work schedule, call them in for overtime… just make it happen.”