The more down south he sped on the freeway, the more lost Bill became. By the time
he realized that he had passed Brokaw Rd long ago, he was already out of the city.
He tried a GPS once when driving up to the SF bay area from San Diego 14 years
ago. Passing LA, the left-most lane led him to some deserted hoods downtown.
Ungrateful to the Garmin that finally guided him out, he instead blamed it all
on tech and the false sense of security it gave. Never mind he himself worked in
the industry for a living. He had never used any GPS since.
Over-confidence was one of his many faults. Bill had blind faith in his sense of
direction and ability to drive despite that it took him six tries to pass the
test for a driver's license. He modeled after the painter Cezanne and not Picasso,
he told the doubters and scoffers, and would keep getting better with time. For
a local trip, he would consult Google for the route and traffic on his laptop,
picture the drive in his mind sometimes, pack up, and go. And that was what he did
on Friday morning for a team meet-up at a coffee shop in east San Jose.
Summer had been mild and so far only three or four days had gone over 90. Today
was just another typical day in paradise. The mimosas had just shedded their fluffy
pink starbursts and the oleanders were still blossoming in rage. Bill had not met
his teammates in person since the pandemic hit 20 months ago. It felt good to see
eight of them.
Vidya, a colleague of five years from Tamil Nadu, was moving to Austin TX, as
Bill had already learnt from their online chat the previous week. Today was to
see her off.
Under a head of lush long pitch-black hair, her pure white face sometimes struck
Bill that she did not look Indian. Under the same intense brows were a pair of
large black eyes. Bright and hard-working, she had a curiosity for deep
understanding which was crucial for coding.
The past few years must have been the hardest for her after her second child
arrived. She used to complain about rent and the cost of childcare.
Over online meetings, children's voices were often in her background. Like many,
she worked long and odd hours, trying to make it in the valley. She had gained a
bit of weight, Bill thought.
"I heard you can't turn off the AC down there. Are you sure you want to go?" one
asked. "Scout the place out and we will join you next year." another joked.
But most were more excited by the bidding wars than even considering leaving the
hell created partly by the local housing market. "My friend made an offer for a
$1.2M apartment in Cupertino and was told the next day that it was sold for $1.6M!"
Next, the latest gizmo: "Someone rode a bike with Google glasses on. He never had
to look at the road!" Soon, they moved onto scary nights at Zion, extreme weather
in the Death Valley, thrilling experiences like parachuting and paragliding, the
effectiveness of different Covid vaccines, how one had to walk the dog for the
kid, etc.
To Bill, these were interesting but irrelevant factoids. He had developed an ability
to stare at reality squarely in the face and deny it. For example, he insisted
that he had found happiness in his own backyard, despite of many evidences that
suggested to the contrary. He had no plan to buy or sell houses, felt no urge to
travel except for meeting people, survived well with his dumb phone all these years,
and hadn't even paid much attention to the pandemic. He believed that he had done
his best to protect himself against Covid, except that he hadn't taken even one jab.
Quietly, Bill was happy for Vidya: she's out of the trap. With two incomes in
Austin, she could raise her kids and invite the grandparents without breaking
her back. With a small mortgage, she can have a bigger life. Good Luck!
