The man sitting next to me on the airplane pulled out the tray in front of him and set up his laptop computer as the stewardess gave permission to use electronic devices. He played the keyboard like a piano virtuoso, but nothing but annoying clicks came out of it. I read the airline magazine as if it were a suspense novel, although I glanced at his screen hoping to decipher something. He was too fast for the likes of me. Columns of figures appeared, mutated and disappeared. I was lonely and longed for some good old-fashioned human contact, but he wasn’t having any of that raggedy-assed stuff. I couldn’t even tell what he was trafficking in. When our snack came, he ignored it. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but still, I devoured it and stared at his hungrily. He gave me a brief glance of irritation, stuck it in his pocket, then went back to work. “Fascinating,” I said. “What?” he said. “I find your work fascinating. Of course, you’ve made several mistakes that will come back to haunt you,” I said. He stared at me as if noticing me for the first time. “What are you talking about?” he said. “Nothing. It’s none of my business,” I said, staring into my magazine. “Who are you? Are you a spy?” he said. “My name is Jeremy Bendix, and I’m a human being,” I said. “A human being?” he said. “Well, goody for you. I played golf on Maui yesterday. What does that make me, a piece of space debris? Now, I have work to do, no doubt riddled with grave mistakes, but still I’m going to do it, if you’ll excuse me.” And, with that, he turned his attention to the screen and worked more furiously than ever. I nodded off for a while, and when I awoke I looked at him and said, “Oops.” He said, “What?” And I repeated, “Oops.” He said, “What are you talking about now?” “Nothing, nothing. It’s just that you’ve failed to take into account the effect of the recession in the Southeast Asian market, and the ripple it’s had throughout Europe, not to mention elsewhere. Of course, I’m completely out of my league here, and I ought to shut up,” I said, and closed my eyes again. “I work hard, but it’s not like I’m building a wall with stones that you can see and feel. I’m in the dark, crawling around on my hands and knees. All I can feel are the spiderwebs across my face and the dust beneath my hands. I hear nothing but the chatter of mice and rats. Can’t you understand that?” he said. “What?” I said. “Are you talking to me?” “No,” he said, and closed up his laptop as we waited for the plane to land. “Listen, I was just kidding when I said that,” I said. “Said what?” he said. “About being a human being,” I said. “Oh yes, that, of course. I took it in the spirit of jest,” he said. I followed him through the terminal and we stood in line for taxis. “Where are you going?” he asked after a while. “I’m going to see a very poor blind man, who rarely eats or drinks, and who talks in riddles, well, not riddles really, but a very special kind of nonsense. He probably knows more than you and me together about the Asian market,” I said. “Sounds like my boss on a good day,” he said. “It is,” I said. “Good, we can share a taxi.” he said.