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are seas and mountains of upheaval.

I stood there for a long time in silence, before I realized he was watching me with a bemused expressionā€”almost as if he, too, were seeing something for the first time. I hadnā€™t a clue what that was, but I had the uncomfortable feeling he could observe the cogs moving inside my head, an impression I was to have on many subsequent occasions. At the timeā€”in the dim corridor lightā€”I didnā€™t register the color of his eyes.

ā€œMy name is Torā€”Zoltan Tor,ā€ he said, speaking gingerly, as if unused to having to introduce himself. ā€œHave you lost your way? Perhaps I could help you out.ā€

The way he said itā€”he pronounced each word as if cutting it with a knife to make it more preciseā€”made me pause in replying. Though heā€™d only asked whether he could help me out of the building, it seemed as if heā€™d asked whether he could help me out with my life.

ā€œI donā€™t think so,ā€ I told him sadly. ā€œI need a technical expert, Iā€™m afraid.ā€ And he certainly didnā€™t look like one, in his three-piece custom-cut suit. Perhaps a diplomat would wear a silk shirt and gold cuff links like those, but no teckie would dress that way.

ā€œWhy not tell me your problem?ā€ he said with a smile. ā€œI only dabble in technology, for my own amusement. But sometimes, what I have to say amuses others as well.ā€

I wasnā€™t sure what that meant, but I was so distraughtā€”and relieved at his offer of helpā€”that I rattled off everything nonstop while standing there in the hallway.

When I got to the part about the great opportunity Iā€™d been offered only that evening, he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

ā€œOne moment, one moment,ā€ he said quickly. ā€œYou say you work for a man named Alfie? Thatā€™s Findstoneā€™s divisionā€”transportation systemsā€”isnā€™t it?ā€

When I nodded yes, a slow smile spread across his face.

ā€œSo, Alfie and Louis are giving you this great opportunity, are they? I find that quite interestingā€”really I do.ā€ He paused for a moment, not looking at me, and seemed to arrive at some private conclusion. Then he said, ā€œBut you donā€™t believe what theyā€™ve told you.ā€ It was more an observation than a question.

ā€œNo, I donā€™t,ā€ I admittedā€”though Iā€™d only just realized it as I said it.

Tor scrutinized my face closely, as if looking for truth in a crystal ball. ā€œWhat you do believe is that youā€™ll be called upon to make some sort of presentation before the clientā€”and that youā€™ll appear a fool. In fact, even before this situation arose, youā€™d been concerned about just such a possibility.ā€

ā€œI donā€™t understand all I should,ā€ I admitted, ā€œbut I think youā€™re wrong about Alfie and Louis; it wouldnā€™t make sense. Why would the very people I work for wish to set me up that wayā€”in front of their own clients?ā€

ā€œIā€™ve long ago ceased trying to comprehend the motives of the ignorant and ineffectual,ā€ he told me. ā€œItā€™s a poor use of time that might be better spent learning something of value. How long have you, before this momentous debut?ā€

ā€œEarly Monday morning,ā€ I told him.

ā€œThough youā€™re young, itā€™s clear youā€™re wise enough to know that preparation never harmed anyone. The worst result will see you a bit wiser than before. How would you like to understandā€”by Monday morningā€”exactly how computers work, and what makes companies run?ā€

ā€œIā€™d love it! I have some more books like this one,ā€ I told him, offering the fat one Alfie had given me; Iā€™d stood there with it still jammed under my arm.

ā€œYou wonā€™t need them,ā€ he said, not glancing at the volume. ā€œTheyā€™re probably worthless anyway. I know everything necessary about the Transpacific Railroad. The chairman is a chap named Ben Jackson, I believe?ā€

ā€œThatā€™s right,ā€ I said, flushed with excitement.

At least Iā€™d learned something poring through those books.

ā€œCome to my office,ā€ said Tor. He seemed satisfied about something, but wasnā€™t giving out any information. ā€œYouā€™ve got hard work ahead; I hope you havenā€™t made plans for the weekend. Iā€™m quite free myself, and happy to be of service.ā€

I couldnā€™t believe my luck. It never occurred to me to wonder why this perfect stranger would take his own time, be so helpful, to someone with credentials as unimpressive as mine.

ā€œI promise to take good notes,ā€ I told him cheerfully as I trotted beside him down the hall.

ā€œYou neednā€™t bother; I want everything carved into that eager little brain. You have to begin to think as a computer does. Those who cannot keep pace with the revolution in technology will find, in a year or two, that they themselves are obsolete.ā€

So began the most important weekend of my lifeā€”a weekend when I entered the cocoon as a computer ignoramus, and emerged as a full-blown technocrat. We spent nearly the whole time in Torā€™s office, though I was allowed to go home each night to catch a few winks, bathe, change clothes, and return at dawn. What began as a painful ordeal turned into purest pleasureā€”like climbing a mountainā€”worth all the agony, once you reached the top.

I soon discovered that Tor had a remarkable gift: the skill to explain complex subjects and make them crystal clear. Grasping all he told me was as easy as swallowing honey.

By the end of that first night, I knew enough about each computer, operating system, and programming language to teach a course myself on the subject. After Saturday night, I knew as much about the products of all the competitor firms, and how their products compared with ours. By Sunday, I could explain how each machine on the market was used in major businesses and industries. The details were an adventure story; Torā€™s every word stuck in my mindā€”without notesā€”as heā€™d promised.

But one glimpse of his office had told me more about the man himself than the three days I spent at close quarters.

Iā€™d assumed his office would be like all the others in our standardized building: glass walls, regulation metal desk, files and bookcases. Instead

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