30 Years

Clouds ironically seemed clearer. They appeared to be more real, almost tangible at thirty thousand feet. On a flight from Singapore to Delaware, USA, there was a first class seating area that gave a wide window view of the clouds.

“Oh, that’s alright. I mean, the Singlish was welcoming as always. I pick up on the slang the most,” Sandina Simons remarked. Her auburn hair looked like rust on a stone. Her eyes sparkled with a gaiety and smarts that spoke of her soul. She was about five feet eight inches. In heels, she could shoot up to five feet nine inches tall. She was thirty-two. Her skin looked like pearls. She spoke to Gaddy Spokane. He was six feet four inches and thirty-six-years-old. He had locks that sprang up from his almond colored head. His deep brown eyes held within them wisdom.

“I liked Singlish, too. Everyone said I wouldn’t understand it, but I got it,” Spokane said.

“It’s a damn shame,” Sandina opined.

“What’s that?”

“People in places like China, Taiwan, Singapore and others areas have risen from poverty totaling over a billion. We should be holding festivals, writing novels, and producing feature films regarding this marvel.”

“I wish I had a billion.”

“Look at who’s being selfish. I like that,” Sandina replied.

“I’m not selfish, I'm just saying how I should have been able to rise up from that idealism,” Spokane said.

“How is that not selfish?”

Spokane stepped. It was like a motor had hiccuped in his mind.

“I’m just asking why am I not a billionaire? Sure I would want to have more money for the poor and I would help them, but I don’t want to be the one who is just scraping by on seven figures a year anymore.”

Sandina took a sip from her gin. She enjoyed it. What she relished more was looking at Spokane.

“All of those people should be happy and thanking people like you. Your selfishness is a model for how to live.”

“I’m not selfish, goddamnit,” he breathed. He wasn’t angry, just agitated.

“The name’s Sandina.

“Gaddy.”

“I know who you are. You’re a senior vice president of accounts at Mercier. I know you.”

“And you’re a columnist for the Daily Delaware. I know you, too.”

“So, you’re not selfish.”

“No.”

“You breathe, right?”

“C’mon, what is this?”

“Answer the question.

Gaddy inhaled and exhaled quickly. He then threw up his hands.

“There…right there you were selfish!”

A question mark painted Spokane’s face.

“I mean you cherish your own self so much that you continue to breathe,” Sandina pointed out.

“So?”

“So, whether you’re conscious of it or not you’re better off considering yourself while not stepping on anyone else’s toes. You don’t have to be a brute in a suit. You can be selfish because it’s good.”

“I don’t follow, but I’m listening,” The gears slowly started turning in his mind.

“A billion people, each individual raised up on the economic ladder because they were in it for themselves. They loved their own families and friends and wanted to provide for them. They didn’t care an iota about the grand total of people leaving behind being poor. They just worked to make their own lives better.”

Spokane looked out at the clouds which looked pinkish gray with the rising of the sun. He internalized Sandina’s words. There was something to her tone and the precise words she spouted that caused Spokane to be receptive. He shifted his weight and crossed his legs at the knee. He actually leaned in a bit.

“If you mean by the last thirty years there were greedy, selfish businesspeople like ourselves who must have stoked the coals….”

“We don’t stoke coals, we stick napalm to everything and let the inferno of free markets blaze. At least that’s what I do.”

“Your econ columns have been syndicated in how many cities?”

“Eighty-six,” She puffed up her chest.

“That’s impressive.” He shifted gears. “So you were in Singapore to get a glimpse of the economic landscape?”

“I was there again. This is my fourth time in the country. I’ve grown accustomed to the bustle and energy at work in the country. It doesn’t have the best individual rights, but its business head is affixed firmly.”

“This was my first time and I loved it.”

“Who loved it?”

“I—I mean,” Spokane mumbled a bit.

“You were pleased with yourself. There is nothing wrong with that. You can say the singular pronoun. It’s still legal to be rationally self-interested.”

“You’re taking me into the woods on this one. I agree with what you said about business and the past three decades, but I think it was all about selflessness, no?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one was used as a sacrificial lamb. No one’s blood was shed on the altar. Executives and day laborers worked their roles and succeeded at profiting on their own terms. The truly dirt poor people worked in sweatshops. That’s sometimes literally miles away from the paddy fields. There, the work is actually back-breaking, soul-crushing, and mind-numbing. And virtual pennies are tossed at the feet of the people in those fields. So what did they do? They started working on sneakers and TVs and smartphones. Their economic status rose but also their self-esteem. They reaped it from knowing that they’re efficacious and able to fulfill their roles.”

A millenial, Spokane laughed. “Did they get participation trophies, too?”

“No, they received the esteem from their own work and the functioning of their minds.”

Spokane darkened. He felt a twinge in his soul about being on board with Sandina. It was like a rose twisting its way up through the concrete. He just wanted it to bloom.

“Alright, so I’m selfish. Now what?” Spokane said.

Sandina sipped. “Now you embrace the world and be an evangelical for selfishness. Be the one who represents the faith in being faithless in God and having total belief in oneself.” She sipped some more. “You’re dry,” she pointed to Spokane’s whisky glass.

“No, I need to be sober to make sense of all of this. If I start drinking now, I won’t stop until we touch down in Wilmington.”

“Hell, I’m sober right now,” she admitted.

They shared a laugh.

“Thirty years of optimism in the face of wars, pestilence, infighting, violent crimes, and all of that wrapped up in that time—”

“A billion people.”

“A billion people.”

They bumped fists and eased into the rest of the flight.