Chapter 11
Shortly before Danny goes back to New York, he is cleaning out a kitchen cabinet when he happens upon a toppled ruin of orange pill bottles behind the spices.
He reads their names (is this an invasion of privacy?) and googles them (is this?) and concludes that the owner of these bottles likely has a rapidly progressing condition Danny has only heard of abstractly, in medical ads and at charity fun runs.
Nonsensically, the owner of these bottles seems to be named Calvin Aagaard.
Eve has already left. Danny collects each of the bottles and sets them in a line on the kitchen table, where he sits for a long time. Cal has gone to the grocery store because Danny accidentally asked if he had any peppermint tea, and he did not.
He picks up his phone. He wants to tell Eve.
He wants to tell Julian. What his muscle memory instead has him do is touch the icon for Pattern, which sits on the bottom of his screen next to his texts and music and internet browser.
Even as he does this, he realizes it’s not what he wants to be doing, but he finds the force of the movement as impossible to reject as gravity.
Danny: I think my dad is not well
Bug: I’m very sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about how this might impact your relationship with Eve?
Danny: What do I do about my dad
Bug: Okay! From my experience talking to you about your relationship with Eve, I know that you don’t always find it easy to have conversations about heavy and serious topics. You may find this is also the case when it comes to your relationship with others, including your dad.
Danny: He didn’t tell me
Bug: I’m sorry to hear that—this must be difficult for you. It’s okay to feel angry, sad, or afraid—a whole tapestry of emotions. Are you worried your dad’s lie of omission will impact your ability to trust in your other relationships?
Danny sets down his phone. He finds himself thinking that the natural next step for Pattern is this—not just romantic relationships but all relationships.
To create a system to quantify and coach friendships, offices, families.
There is almost zero latency between Danny having the thought and being sick with himself, of himself.
He is so determined to solve every problem with more technology.
He does not know how to solve with less.
He hates the word tapestry. No one says “tapestry” except for LLMs.
How long does he sit there? Danny hears the garage and then Cal saying, “Hey, bud, I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I got peppermint green tea and peppermint sleepytime and just plain peppermint. We can try ’em all! Or not, whatever you’d like.”
Danny examines the heat moving up his stomach to his throat and discovers it is fury. In this moment, he hates his father: who is so acquiescent he buys all three types of teas, who is so conflict avoidant he will not admit he is sick, who has willed all this through genes or example to Danny.
“What’s all this?” Cal says, stepping into the kitchen with his armful of teas.
“You tell me,” Danny says.
Cal hesitates. He looks at the pill containers. There is an interminable pause. Then, finally: “So. Which tea do we start with?”
“What the fuck, Dad.”
“Hey, language.”
“Are you sick? How long has this been happening?”
“This isn’t something you have to worry about.”
“It sure fucking is.”
“Hey, let’s be civil.”
“That’s not the point. Are you getting treatment? Who’s your doctor?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“That’s not an option,” Danny says.
“We’ve been having a nice time.”
“Have you told anyone? Does Beatrice know?”
“I’m not having this conversation.”
Cal sets the tea on the counter and heads for the hall. Danny pursues.
“I know this is probably hard to talk about, but you can’t just not tell me.”
“We were having such a nice visit,” Cal says. “Let’s keep things nice.” He goes into his bedroom, where he starts making the bed, which is already made. Danny puts his hands on top of his head and watches this with an increasing, overwhelming sense of helplessness.
“What if we saw a movie?” Cal says. “Wouldn’t that be fun? I’ll buy the tickets.”
“Dad.”
Cal has navigated around Danny and gone back out the bedroom to the hall. Danny stays there staring at the tidy bed.
“Okay,” he says. What else do you say?