Page 49 of You Had Me at Hello World
Cynically I wonder if that’s why Michael moved us to afar-flung beach town. To isolate us from any support system we might’ve had. No, that’s not fair. His dad kicked the bucket and he inherited the house. I know that.
Lola and I chat until the car rolls to a stop in front of a sparkling skyscraper.
“I have to go.” Dammit. I wish I could’ve talked to her longer.
“Kick ass, darlin’,” she drawls.
I peer out the window. We’re in Boston’s Seaport neighborhood. Everything is glossy and sleek, glass and steel. How would it feel to work and live here? To exist in such a beautiful, wealthy place?
“You have arrived at your destination,” the car chirps.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I enter a gleaming lobby with sweeping ceilings. There’s a receptionist who asks to see ID—I flash my Alpha Fellows lanyard—and then cross-references a list of guests. “Edvin Nilsen?” she asks. I nod. “First elevator on the left.”
I pass through a glass turnstile that silently slides open and shut. The elevator doesn’t have buttons, which I’ve never seen before. It’s kind of freaky, like I’m no longer in control of my own destination.
I get deposited at floor nine, where a rosy-cheeked East Asian woman greets me. “You must be Charise? I’m Janelle. We emailed.” I shake her hand. Even her manicure feels expensive.
Janelle offers coffee, but I decline. I’m too anxious for caffeine.
She leads me through the Nexus office. It’s Saturday, so it’s mostly empty, although there are several frazzled-looking employees typing away at desks. There are colorful beanbags scattered everywhere, a foosball table in the corner. Whiteboards covered in pseudocode. The view overlooking Boston Harbor isincredible, and I wish I could linger at the window for longer.
We enter a conference room with floor-to-ceiling glass walls, and there’s Edvin Nilsen. Not even ten feet in front of me. He’s dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, and he looks less handsome than hisForbescover. His age is starting to catch up to him: he has a receding hairline, and his jowls are pronounced. But there’s still something magnetic about his aura.
He looks up from his phone. “Oh, hi there. Char?”
Janelle settles into the corner to jot down notes.
“Thank you so much for taking the time to meet,” I manage.
“Of course. When I was your age, I cold-emailed Bill Gates. This was back when email was still new. And to my surprise, he actually replied! His guidance was so helpful in getting me started. That’s why I started Alpha Fellows. If I can do that for other young people, that’s something no amount of money can buy.”
“I really appreciate this.” I’m still in disbelief.
He interlaces his fingers. “So what can I do for you?”
Right. His time is precious. I should get to it. “I’m in Alpha Fellows this summer, and we’re—” I catch myself. “I’mhaving difficulty ideating. It’s my first hackathon. It would be great to get tips.”
“Fair warning, I’m not on the judging panel, so if you’re looking for a cheat code, talking to me isn’t going to get you anywhere,” he says. “But I’ve been running this camp for a long time. Seen lots of winners. I’m happy to give advice.”
I basically info dump our best ideas.
“All of these are garbage,” he says.
“Oh.” I blink, taken aback by his blunt response. No, this is good. Refreshing. He’s not sugarcoating it. This is what we need. “Why?”
“Do you know why teenagers rarely build anything fantastic?”
“Because… they can’t code?” I venture.
“That’s part of it, and that’s something our camp tries to address with the first checkpoint. But there are plenty of kids who can code. The barrier to entry is low. Lots of free online resources.” He shakes his head. “But most kids with the time and educational background to learn how to code don’t have any real problems tosolvewith those skills. They can’t think of anything interesting. At Alpha Fellows, we see a lot of homework planners. Study buddies. Apps where you can compliment your friends anonymously.Boring.”
“Um, okay.” I’d appreciate a compliment every now and then, but I guess the idea doesn’t sound too promising. The internet was basically invented to anonymously insult others.
He jabs a finger at me. “I remember your application. Oregon, right?”
God, I hope he doesn’t start using that nickname too. “Yeah…”
