So it IS Mark Zuckerberg!
A knock on the door.
“Who is it?” Iris asked.
“Your attorney,” Sari’s monotoned voice answered.
Iris opened the door and vigorously shook Sari’s stiff hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
Sari removed her hand from Iris’ grasp, removed a very expensive looking briefcase from her shoulder, and took a seat in our circle. She remained silent but slipped a sleek folder from the front pocket labeled Nobles.
“Wait,” Deacon said, halting Sari’s lifting of the folder. “Could this bite us in the ass as a breach of noncompete?”
Sari laughed more genuinely that I thought she was capable of. “No.”
Deacon leaned forward to physically stop the file from leaving the briefcase. “We’ll need more than a no,” he replied sternly. “Do these files belong to Comtel?”
“No, Mr. Livingston,” she said matching his tone. “I would not jeopardize my license, but the question, however ill proposed, is fair.” She released the folder. “I left Comtel on my own volition because I did not agree with this deal. Your deal. Our conversation, Ms. Nobles, shook my resolve and I couldn’t do it anymore. I packed my desk and left all Comtel property behind, but I know my cases. The contents of the folder here is from memory and mind. As for noncompete, it is Massachusetts law that a client may choose their own council. Unless there is a conflict of interest or theft of property, I am permitted beyond requisite of the law to represent you all. Now, can I show you all my file?”
Deacon relaxed his shoulder slightly, but he was still on the edge of his seat as if waiting to pounce. I smiled at the passion I’d confused at first with vitriol. I don’t know how I’d missed it. He’d been born wealthy and of high pedigree. His family rubbed shoulders with Cambridges royalty. He’d likely been used his entire life. By friends, acquaintances, girlfriends, most people wanted something from him, so his guard was up. It was obvious to me now, and very human.
Sari slowly opened the folder. “Mark Zuckerberg is behind this,” she said without emotion or additional cadence.
“What?” Iris, Wes, and I said in creepy, unexpected unison, while Deacon sat in quiet stillness.
“He’s using Comtel as a front to swallow your App into Meta,” Sari thumbed through pages and handed us all an identical projections page. “No emails. No phone calls. And I will be collecting these before I leave this dorm. They are numbered and cataloged.”
The paper was a simple graphing of momentum of Flavor of Harvard versus Facebook and Instagram. The user numbers did not compare – hundreds of millions in the Meta suite and mere thousands on FOH, but the sharp incline showed growth potential to surpass them. Looking at the paper, people were chunked into slightly pixelated clumps like digital cattle all connecting to money and profit. I felt uneasy hairs standing at the back of my neck. Then, I homed in on the specific numbers on the left line of the graph and laughed.
“Trillion…” I said shaking my head. “Surely not.” I looked from Iris to Wes to Deacon and their expressions told me this was not a mistake. “They’re Goliath.”
“They are, yes,” Sari said reaching for another paper to hand out. “And they were primed to gobble you down whole. Your little App has been searched 300 million times in weeks. This aligns with the number of users on dating apps in the height of their popularity. They have since declined due to lack of ingenuity, and honestly, safety. But love sells and Mr. Zuckerberg needs innovation or else he’ll soon go the way of BellSouth.”
“But why wouldn’t he come himself?” I asked. “Why go through the trouble of Comtel?”
“Mr. Zuckerberg also knows his own reputation,” she said. “You would have taken one look at him or the company name and ran.”
Everyone nodded in response.
“Especially since he’s gone full, he-man-woman-hater,” added Iris. “Sheryl Sandberg drove growth and he’s tanking it on personality and vengeance.”
Deacon shrugged. “Tale as old as time though, isn’t it?” He stared at Wesley as he said it, which made me think of Wes’s jealousy. Deacon must’ve seen this scenario play out over and over in powerful circles of men with money and influence. He saw something he did not approve of in Wes. When Wes looked away, he did too.
“What exactly do you suggest?” I asked Sari. “This is all shocking and everything, but what do you propose we do?”
Sari smiled and leaned into me. “This is why I left,” she said. “You, Sophia, if I may. You cut through the unnecessary extra and get straight to the point. So, I will answer your question – what do I suggest you do? Fight like hell. First, in the media. You’ll need to be styled and coached, show yourself widely.”
“And it has to be her?” Wesley asked dejected.
I closed my eyes, disappointed. He could be better than this. I’d seen it! Empathy. Kindness. The longing to push me forward and upward, but he could not help himself. He hated to be eclipsed by a girl. Such a waste of a potentially lovely man. But potential had taken down many mountains before me and I wasn’t about to let it make me tumble.
“Yes, Wesley, for fuck’s sake!” I yelled inches from his face. “It has to be me. Deal with it!”
***