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For the first time in their forty-year history, The Garden wanted internet access. They sent us a personal invitation and claimed that Center was the only provider that they were considering. Our board was confused but also thrilled.
High-speed internet was available to 92% of the world’s population. We bragged that the majority of people in every country, city-state, and indigenous nation had Center accounts. Except for The Garden, because they were not connected. By choice.
The Garden had been formed in Central America by a few like-minded families. Initially dismissed as yet another volatile cult, time slowly proved otherwise. Their central tenets were a complete embrace of the wilderness and an absolute rejection of the internet. So what had changed?
I was selected as Center’s ambassador to The Garden. Personally, I thought it was risky. If I succeeded, we gained a few new users, but if I failed, we would endure unnecessary public embarrassment. My best guess was that Center’s executive team couldn’t resist a chance at the appearance of total ubiquity. But they were also calculating enough to have me as a built-in scapegoat if it collapsed.
As I stepped off the plane, a security guard confiscated all of my devices, helped me climb aboard a horse-drawn carriage, and told the driver to take me to Simon.
“As The Garden’s leader, I’m well aware of the fact that our technology choices are unconventional compared to the rest of the world,” Simon began. “We’ve received countless offers from companies like yours to update our lifestyle, but until now we’ve rebuffed all of them.”
“Why now? Why us?”
“Because it’s time and you’re the best,” he said matter-of-factly. “More specifically, we’ve grown to the point where the gap between our processes and modern efficiencies has become hard to ignore. For instance, all of our communication has to be hand delivered. That wasn’t much of an inconvenience in the early days, but now it takes three days for one of our postal workers to travel across our territory.”
“And we have the widest array of tools to help you.”
“Precisely. So, how can you help us?”
“Let’s start with communication.”
As I spent the next few weeks setting up their service, it felt odd that Simon was so kind and eager to deploy our tech. In fact, he didn’t need convincing at all. I pridefully assumed that I was just that good. Plus, the internet had become like running water; the few that didn’t have it desperately wanted it.
On my last day there, Simon asked, “What do we owe you for all of this?”
“Nothing for now. I’ll come back in six months and we’ll negotiate from there.”
When I got back home, I was celebrated as a company hero. Of course, the board took credit in the media, but I was fine with that. I knew who had actually done it, and that was enough for me.
* * *
On my return flight, a scathing email from the board informed me that The Garden had tricked us. No real users. No legitimate traffic. None of their people were actual Center subscribers. I was simultaneously confused and embarrassed.
As I walked back into Simon’s office, it took everything that I had to play it cool. But that didn’t last long…
“Why did you fake the data?” I blurted out.
“We don’t want your disease,” he said calmly.
“Disease?!” I asked incredulously.
“That’s right. We believe that the internet is a disease. But unlike physical viruses, you and your competitors seem determined to infect us. So we decided to defend ourselves.”
“How is the internet a disease?”
“Several peer-reviewed studies have found that an internet addiction affects your brain similar to the way that cigarettes rot your lungs. But you probably wouldn’t know that since all of your information comes from the web.”
“But the internet is integral to all of the best parts of our society,” I countered. “And there’s plenty of help for people struggling with addiction. Fear of the worst case scenario is hardly a reason to miss out on the infinite benefits.”
“We disagree. We believe that you can either be wise or smart. If you choose to be smart, you won’t have time to be wise. If you choose to be wise, you’ll know better than to be smart. We’ve chosen to seek wisdom. The internet community has chosen to be smart.”
“Well, to each his own.” I said, resignedly. “But faking data?”
“We felt like we had to force your hand in order to be left alone.”
I didn’t entirely understand what that meant, but a more pressing question popped into my head. “Wait, how did you even know how to write that type of algorithm?”
“I haven’t always lived in The Garden. Sometimes to protect the thing you love, you have to learn the tools of the enemy. Anyway, I faked the data so you’d have to make a choice. You can proudly brag that we’re your customer, while knowing that it’s a lie. Or you can expose us, only to have us claim innocence. Who would the world think faked the data? The world’s biggest tech company or a bunch of internet-free hippies? I imagine the scandal would result in a big hit to Center’s reputation and bottom line. Either way, we ask that you never contact us again.”
“Fine, Simon. You win.”
“It’s not about winning and losing,” he corrected. “It’s about doing what’s right for our people. And for what it’s worth, I always liked you. I just didn’t like what you stood for. In fact, I’d like to personally invite you to stay and join us.”
“There’s no difference between me and what I stand for,” I said indignantly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go home and get back to work.”
I knew that I would return as a failure, but who could blame me? After all, you can’t help people that refuse to be helped.
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