Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I turned to the whiteboard, and he worked on the outline and brainstormed ideas for the story. Every time I had a suggestion, he either rejected it or it inspired a better idea. It was incredible how he could think so deeply about something that wasn’t even real. As the minutes passed and he continued to eat, his countenance even changed, his eyes not so harsh and aggressive. He slowly turned into a normal person.
Then he got to work on his laptop.
I focused on the exam he’d given his students, and there were only a few words on the page. The rest was literally equations. I didn’t even understand what each question asked. I looked at the name in the top right corner and noticed every single student was male except for one woman.
That was disappointing.
I graded each one, checking the key to make sure their answer at the bottom matched what Derek had written. I used the red pen and marked each one, writing their final score at the top of the page.
While I worked, Derek’s fingers were quick on the keyboard. He didn’t have to look at his hands while he typed. His eyes remained glued to the screen, reading exactly what he had written before, as he added more to the paragraph. He occasionally paused and read what he’d already written, as if he were trying to think of the right way to segue into the next sequence. His brown eyes were hard as he read, looking slightly angry even though this story brought him joy.
We worked in mutual silence.
When I was finished grading the exams and exhausted by what I’d had to dissect, I organized the papers alphabetically and set them to the side. I pulled out my phone and took care of a few emails.
Mom texted me. When are you going to be home?
Not sure. Maybe another hour.
Alright. Be safe, honey.
I will, Mom.
Derek kept working, getting a lot more done this time than last time.
I needed him to write this book quickly, so I didn’t interrupt him. I organized the rest of his stuff while I waited.
When he ran out of juice, he shut his laptop.
“How many words?”
“Five thousand.” He grabbed his phone to check the time.
“Wow, that’s amazing.” If we continued at this pace, we would definitely meet the deadline I promised to Mark and his fans would get their story soon.
He drank his beer then turned to me. “How’d you do?”
“Tell me.” I pushed the papers toward him. “I put everything in alphabetical order, so don’t mess it up.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I thought it would be easier.” I liked this version of Derek Hamilton a lot more than the other one. He was human again, with a much greater spectrum of emotions.
He looked through the first exam then moved on to the second. When he was satisfied with what he saw, he lifted his gaze and looked at me again. “You did well.” He returned the exams back to the pile.
Did he have no idea that he had a different personality? Writing made him a better person. If he wrote every day, he would probably be much happier. “Why don’t you offer partial credit? When I looked through their answers, they got most of it right but made a few errors toward the end. But it’s clear they grasp what they’re trying to accomplish.”
It was one of the longest pauses he’d ever had. He stared at me for at least fifteen seconds as he processed my question and considered his answer. “Because in the real world, a single error costs a life. It doesn’t matter if you grasped what you were trying to accomplish and failed. You failed. Period. That rocket will explode at launch, killing the entire crew inside. And if no one is inside, all the resources launching to the space station will be destroyed, not to mention the billion-dollar rocket itself that can’t be recycled for parts. The self-driving car will fail to read its code and crash into a semi. The life-support machine will glitch in the middle of the night, and the patient will die. You can make mistakes when you’re a clerk at a grocery store and charge a customer too much or too little. But when you’re an aeronautical engineer, you can’t make mistakes. And if you can’t do that…then you don’t deserve to be on the team.”
I listened to every word of his passionate speech, saw the dedication in his eyes. This was a man who didn’t view his work as an occupation, but a dedication of his mind, body, and soul. A hundred percent wasn’t enough for him, not when everyone should give a hundred and ten percent. “You’re already so busy. Why do you teach a class?” I asked the question, but I already had a strong suspicion of what his answer would be.