Long shadows cast by prodigious siblings

In the dimly lit hall of the conference, to conclude her speech the keynote speaker urged participants to linger and engage in conversations. Networking, she called it. Apparently it is very important.

I found myself standing tall with my hands in my pockets, too shy to initiate.

To my surprise, a woman nearing her sixties, with eyes that sparkled with years of wisdom and the title of Executive Director on her name badge, approached me with a delicate stride.

“Excuse me,” she said, “Monsieur Buzz Kantwrite, if I’m not mistaken?” Her voice wavered slightly, betraying a hint of anxiety.

Considering the disparity in our ranks, her nervousness caught me off guard. I was thirty-eight years old, but I was new to the public sector and thus held a low-ranking position.

“That would be me,” I replied, offering a polite nod.

“By any chance are you related to Neil Kantwrite?”

“He happens to be my uncle,” I affirmed.

“Remarkable,” she said. “Your face bears a striking resemblance to his. I think it may be the beard.”

“You flatter me,” I said.

“I had the privilege of being under his guidance, you know? And I must confess, he remains the finest superior and educator I have ever known. Neil had this amazing ability to guide one through challenges, and by the end, one emerged with a newfound confidence.”

“Such kind words,” I responded. “I’ll gladly convey them to him.”

“Ah, Neil,” she gushed, “such a prodigious individual. You know, we could really use a man like Neil on our team.”

“Is that so?” I said.

“Are you looking for a new position?”

“As a matter of fact, my current contract is almost complete.”

“Oh. Then this meeting may be serendipitous.”

She flashed me a knowing smile. A long silence passed between us.

I leaned in and lowered my voice. “I possess a rather amusing tale regarding Neil during his adolescence. Would you care to hear it?”

“Yes, yes, very much so.”

“While Neil was the age of fifteen and my father was but thirteen, their family embarked on a summer holiday. It was during this trip that young Neil was utterly engrossed in War and Peace. My father often recounted how Neil was ensnared by the narrative; it was as though he was part of its world. He finished the entire book within four days.”

She looked at me, intrigued. “That’s quite an undertaking for a boy of fifteen.”

“On that very same excursion,” I continued, “my father amused himself with a ball and cup game. You’re familiar, aren’t you? A simple game where a ball, tethered to a string, must be tossed into a cup. You know the one I’m talking about, right?”

She nodded slowly.

“Despite my father’s numerous attempts throughout the summer, he could never succeed in getting the ball to land inside the cup. Decades later, when he owned a garage, curiosity led him to measure the string. As fate would have it, the string was woefully short, rendering the ball and cup game unwinnable.”

She forced a smile and swallowed nervously. “That’s quite the revelation.”

“I too was skeptical upon hearing this, but having tried to conquer the game myself, spending numerous hours trying to get the ball into the cup, I can attest to the toy’s flawed design.”

“I see,” she smiled uneasily. “And how old were you when you ran this test of yours?”

“This was last week,” I said. “I spent the whole weekend doing it. Forty-eight hours without any sleep.”

“I see.” She looked around the room as if searching for the nearest fire escape.

“Anyway,” I said, leaning to my left to capture her gaze, “about that job offer.”