An Unlikely Dream

It was not as if Andy did not know who stood before him when he opened the front door. Some faces are so instantly recognizable from their constant repetition in the media that we all know them, even though we might never have been within a thousand miles of the actual person. It was much more a matter of disbelief, incredulity holding Andy frozen to the spot with his mouth gaping.

"Good morning, Andy," said the man.

For a moment Andy stood, still immobile, and then he realized that a response was required of him. He forced himself to speak. "Good morning, umm, Mr Gates. It is you, isn't it, Mr Gates?"

The man winked. "Oh yes, Andy, it's me. But call me Bill, please. We don't need to stand on any formalities. May I come in?"

Andy opened the door wide and moved out of the way. "Please, step inside."

He watched as Mr Gates stepped across the threshold. Suddenly Andy remembered the state of his living room, books and magazines strewn across the floor and occupying the chairs, a half eaten pizza still in its box upon the coffee table, the blinds closed so that the morning light was no more than a glow at the window. Andy walked quickly to his best chair and started to remove the papers that buried its cushioned seat.

"I'm sorry, Mr G.., umm, Bill, I wasn't expecting you. The place is a bit of a rag and bone shop at the moment - I haven't had time to tidy up yet. Afraid I live a paper sack lifetime these days." He had cleared a space now and indicated the chair. "Please, take a seat."

Mr Gates moved forward and sat down. "It's okay, Andy. It doesn't bother me and, anyway, we have more important things to discuss."

"We have?" Andy sat down on his battered sofa, not noticing that his action caused a small mountain of magazines to slip and slide, one by one, on to the floor.

"Oh yes. You see, we have a bit of a problem down at Redmond and I think you may be able to help us with it. Our research has shown that you're a blogger."

"So I blog," said Andy, "What of it?"

"We're very interested in blogging at the moment, Andy, and have been trying to get into it. You may think that we are too busy with things like Windows Vista and Internet Explorer 7 to be concerned about the blogosphere, but we're actually interested in both worlds. And you, Andy, are the man to help us."

Andy was astounded. "Me? Why me? I'm a nobody."

Mr Gates raised a hand to halt him. "Just a moment, Andy, hear me out. I'll do the talking here and then you can decide." He settled back into the chair and smiled before continuing.

"As I said, we have tried to get into this blogosphere and not had much success so far. And it became clear to us that we were missing something. What we need is someone who understands blogging through and through, someone who can show us how it all works from the ground up. A little research has revealed that you blog more than anyone else in the world. I'm not splitting hairs here: you spend nineteen hours a day blogging, you eat blogging and you sleep blogging. No-one blogs as you can. You are, if I may put it this way, the world's champion blogger, Andy. You're thirty stories up compared to everyone else."

Mr Gates paused to allow his words to have their effect on Andy. Then he continued, confident now that his plan was about bear fruit.

"We want you to blog for us. Come down to Redmond and show us how it's done. I'm a little bit rusty at these things and I need your help. Think of it, Andy, you could blog as you've never blogged before. And you can name your price, whatever you want. What do you say?"

Andy was stunned. This was not exactly a blogger's weekly experience. He was being offered the world on a plate, a chance of pontificating from the mountain as he had never done before. His blog was popular, it's page rank slowly improving, but it would never achieve the audience that Bill was offering. This was the chance of a lifetime.

For one ecstatic moment, Andy savored the dream, reveled in the possibilities and tasted the glory. And then he heard it, like a whispered voice in his ear, the murmur of his deepest being, the essential "I" that was Andy: "This is not for you..." He fought not to listen, to pretend that he did not hear, but already he knew in his heart that this proffered fortune and fame must forever be another man's meat. And with the knowledge that he must refuse, there came a resolve and determination to remain true to himself, to be forever Andy.

He looked up at Mr Gates who waited patiently, expectantly, sure that no man could refuse so glittering an offer. "I'm sorry, Bill, but I must say no. You are very kind to have thought of me, yet there is a matter of letting me be who I am in this. And I can only ever be Andy, just a lone blogger with nothing much to say and with very little life to tell. I'm sorry you've had a wasted journey."

Well, Mr Gates argued and tried to persuade him, but Andy resisted all, a rock of determination in the raging sea of Bill's frustration. In the end, things became heated and Andy burst out finally with, "I'll be blogg'd if I'll do it!" And Mr Gates left, angry and disappointed, while Andy stood at the door and watched him go.

As he reached the the limo waiting so patiently a little way down the street, Mr Gates turned and shouted one last parting shot, a strange invocation that Andy would wonder about for the rest of his life: "You're nothing but a puffer fish in my soup!"

--ooOoo--

If you enjoyed this little story, and especially if it made you smile, you might also like The Phantom of the Blogosphere.