Read Online Player One: What Is to Become of Us by Douglas Coupland - Free Book Online

there; I bought it at Heathrow and I’m trying to keep it clean for next month’s cruise.” Leslie looked at Rick. “And I was kidding about not wanting a drink. I’ll have what this gentleman here is having.” He motioned to Warren’s Scotch and soda. He stuck out a manly hand to Warren, and then to Karen: “Leslie Freemont . . . Leslie Freemont. Ah, my drink. Thank you, Rick. Wait — I’m one of those folks who has a peanut allergy. In all seriousness, is this glass clean?”
    “Fresh from the shelf.”
    “Merci beaucoup.” He took a sip. “Ah, rich, nourishing booze. With the first drink comes the truth, with the second drink comes wishful thinking, and with the third drink come the lies. What would we do without sweet, nourishing alcohol?” He raised his highball glass and bellowed, “A toast!” Even Miss Ginger Ale raised her glass. “Here’s a toast to everyone on earth who’s ever been eager, no, desperate for even the smallest sign that there exists something finer, larger, and more miraculous about our inner selves than we could ever have supposed. Here’s to all of us, reaching out our hands to people everywhere, reaching out to pull them from the icebergs in which they stand frozen, to pull them through the burning hoops of fire that make them frightened, and to pull them through the brick walls that block their paths. Let us reach out to shock and captivate these people into new ways of thinking.”
    Leslie’s toast took a moment to sink in, but was then greeted by a hearty “Cheers!”
    Miss Ginger Ale said, “I’ve seen you on TV.”
    “You probably have,” said Leslie. “My new TV project airs in the coveted midnight-to-one-a.m. slot, week-nights, in two major North American markets.”
    “I watch your show while I work in my laboratory mouse-breeding facility.”
    That line stopped everyone dead. Mr. Trainwreck got things moving again. “So you have a TV show, not an infomercial?” he asked.
    “Edutainment,” said Leslie. “I like to call it a ‘lifeomercial.’ I’m not on TV primarily to sell — first and foremost, I’m there to fix people’s lives.”
    “Are you some form of doctor?” asked Miss Ginger Ale.
    “No, ma’am, just a humble shepherd.”
    “So you’re an evangelist?” asked Mr. Trainwreck.
    “Not as such,” Leslie replied. “But if helping people in pain is a crime, then I guess you’d call me a criminal.” Leslie turned to Rick. “Young man, Tara and I are on the move today, but we cherish this chance to have met you.”
    “What time is your flight?” Rick asked.
    Leslie raised an eyebrow at Tara, who quickly blurted, “We have to board in ninety minutes.”
    “So,” said Leslie, “I’m afraid we have only a brief moment for a photo. I trust you’re still going to invest in the full Leslie Freemont Power Dynamics program.”
    “Of course,” said Rick, who at that moment would gladly have donated all of his internal organs to invest in the full Leslie Freemont Power Dynamics Seminar System.
    “Wonderful.”
    “Do you have the payment?” asked Tara.
    Rick handed it to her. “It’s cash. Exactly $8,500. You can count it if you like.”
    “No need,” said Leslie, being good cop to Tara’s bad cop. “Come around to this side of the bar while Tara readies the camera.”
    Rick hopped over the bar in one leap, barely missing a Rubbermaid tray containing lemon wedges and maraschino cherries, then took off his apron in one gesture. “I am so stoked!”
    “And your great adventure,” said Leslie, “has only just begun. Tara?”
    Leslie put his arm around Rick and told him to say the word “win.” “It gives you the best smile of all.”
    Tara snapped a digital photo. Leslie grabbed the camera. “It’s a beauty. Good work, Tara.” He pumped Rick’s hand. “Rick, we’ll email you the JPEG.”
    “Thanks, Leslie.”
    Leslie chugged his Scotch. “And now we’re off, and thank you for your commitment to my vision. A FedEx with