The Circle

asked.
    “Absent?”
    “Yes. Absent. Let’s put a pin in that thought, too. Let’s go back to your dad, and
     this weekend. Did he recover okay?”
    “He did. It was a false alarm, really.”
    “Good. I’m so glad to hear about that. But it’s curious that you didn’t share this
     with anyone else. Did you post anything anywhere about this episode? A zing, a comment
     anywhere?”
    “No, I didn’t,” Mae said.
    “Hm. Okay,” Denise said, taking a breath. “Do you think someone else might have benefited
     from your experience? That is, maybe the next person who might drive two or three
     hours home might benefit from knowing what you found out about the episode, that it
     was just a minor pseudo-seizure?”
    “Absolutely. I could see that being helpful.”
    “Good. So what
do
you think the action plan should be?”
    “I think I’ll join the MS club,” Mae said, “and I should post something about what
     happened. I know it’ll be beneficial.”
    Denise smiled. “Fantastic. Now let’s talk about the rest of the weekend. On Friday,
     you find out that your dad’s okay. But the rest of the weekend, you basically go blank.
     It’s like you disappeared!” Her eyes grew wide. “This is when someone like you, with
     a low Participation Rank, might be able to improve that, if she wanted to. But yours
     actually dropped—two thousand points. Not to get all number-geeky, but you were on
     8,625 on Friday and by late Sunday you were at 10,288.”
    “I didn’t know it was that bad,” Mae said, hating herself, this self who couldn’t
     seem to get out of her own way. “I guess I was just recovering from the stress of
     my dad’s episode.”
    “Can you talk about what you did on Saturday?”
    “It’s embarrassing,” Mae said. “Nothing.”
    “Nothing meaning what?”
    “Well, most of the day I stayed at my parents’ house and just watched TV.”
    Josiah brightened. “Anything good?”
    “Just some women’s basketball.”
    “There’s nothing wrong with women’s basketball!” Josiah gushed. “I
love
women’s basketball. Have you followed my WNBA zings?”
    “No, do you have a Zing feed about the WNBA?”
    Josiah nodded, looking hurt, even bewildered.
    Denise stepped in. “Again, it’s just curious that you didn’t choose to share it with
     anyone. Did you join any of the discussions about the sport? Josiah, how many participants
     are there in our global WNBA discussion group?”
    Josiah, still visibly shaken knowing that Mae hadn’t been reading his WNBA feed, managed
     to find the number on his tablet and muttered, “143,891.”
    “And how many zingers out there focus on the WNBA?”
    Josiah quickly found the number. “12,992.”
    “And you’re not part of either, Mae. Why do you think that is?”
    “I guess I just didn’t think my interest in the WNBA rose to the level where it warranted
     joining a discussion group, or, you know, following anything. I’m not that passionate
     about it.”
    Denise squinted at Mae. “That’s an interesting choice of words:
Passion
. You’ve heard of PPT? Passion, Participation and Transparency?”
    Mae had seen the letters PPT around campus and had not, until that moment, connected
     the letters to these three words. She felt like a fool.
    Denise put her palms on the desk, as if she might get up. “Mae, you know this is a
     technology company, correct?”
    “Of course.”
    “And that we consider ourselves on the forefront of social media.”
    “Yes.”
    “And you know the term Transparency, correct?”
    “I do. Absolutely.”
    Josiah looked at Denise, hoping to calm her. She put her hands in her lap. Josiah
     took over. He smiled and swiped his tablet, turning a new page.
    “Okay. Let’s go to Sunday. Tell us about Sunday.”
    “I just drove back.”
    “That’s it?”
    “I kayaked?”
    Josiah and Denise registered dual looks of surprise.
    “You kayaked?” Josiah said. “Where?”
    “Just in the bay.”
    “With who?”
    “No one. Just alone.”
    Denise and Josiah looked hurt.
    “
I
kayak,” Josiah said, and then typed something in his tablet, pressing very hard.
    “How often do you kayak?” Denise asked Mae.
    “Maybe once every few weeks?”
    Josiah was looking intently at his tablet. “Mae, I’m looking at your profile, I’m
     finding nothing about you and kayaking. No smiles, no ratings, no posts, nothing.
     And now you’re telling me you kayak once
every few weeks
?”
    “Well, maybe it’s less than