The Circle

truth without telling all of it, and that this photo, along with the white
     lie of knowing his actual last name, would allow her to continue with this man, Kalden,
     who very well might be a danger to the Circle, she knew she would use this second
     lie with Annie, and it would buy her more time—more time to rise and fall on Kalden,
     while trying to ascertain exactly who he was and what he wanted from her.
    An action shot
, she typed.
I did a facial-rec and it all connects
.
    Thank god
, Annie wrote.
But you’re a bitch
.
    Gina, who had read the message, was visibly flustered. “Maybe we should do this later?”
     she said, her forehead suddenly glistening.
    “No, sorry,” Mae said. “Go on. I’ll turn the screen away.”
    Another message appeared from Annie. While turning the screenaway, Mae glanced at it.
Did you hear the fracturing of any bones while sitting on him? Older men have bird
     bones, and pressure like you’re talking about could be fatal
.
    “Okay,” Gina said, swallowing hard, “for years lesser companies had been tracking,
     and trying to influence, the connection between online mentions, reviews, comments,
     ratings, and actual purchases. Circle developers have figured out a way to measure
     the impact of these factors, of your participation, really, and articulate it with
     the Conversion Rate.”
    Another message appeared, but Mae ignored it, and Gina forged on, thrilled to have
     been deemed more important than Annie, even for a moment.
    “So every purchase initiated or prompted by a recommendation you make raises your
     Conversion Rate. If your purchase or recommendation spurs fifty others to take the
     same action, then your CR is x50. There are Circlers with a conversion rate of x1,200.
     That means an average of 1,200 people buy whatever they buy. They’ve accumulated enough
     credibility that their followers trust their recommendations implicitly, and are deeply
     thankful for the surety in their shopping. Annie, of course, has one of the highest
     CRs in the Circle.”
    Just then, another droplet sounded. Gina blinked as if she’d been slapped, but continued.
    “Okay, so your average Conversion Rate so far has been x119. Not bad. But on a scale
     of 1 to 1,000, there’s a lot of room for improvement. Below the Conversion Rate is
     your Retail Raw, the total gross purchase price of recommended products. So let’s
     say you recommend a certain keychain, and 1,000 people take your recommendation, then
     those 1,000 keychains, priced at $4 each, bring your Retail Raw to$4,000. It’s just the gross retail price of the commerce you’ve stoked. Fun, right?”
    Mae nodded. She loved the notion of actually being able to track the effect of her
     tastes and endorsements.
    Another droplet sounded. Gina seemed to be blinking back tears. She stood up.
    “Okay. I feel like I’m invading your lunch and your friendship. So that’s the Conversion
     Rate and Retail Raw. I know you understand it. There’ll be a new screen by the end
     of the day to measure these scores.”
    Gina tried to smile, but couldn’t seem to lift the sides of her mouth enough to seem
     convincing. “Oh, and the minimum expectation for high-functioning Circlers is a conversion
     rate of x250, and a weekly Retail Raw of $45,000, both of which are modest goals that
     most Circlers far exceed. And if you have questions, well,” she stopped, her eyes
     fragile. “I’m sure you can ask Annie.”
    She turned and left.
    A few nights later, on a cloudless Thursday, Mae drove home, her first time since
     her father’s Circle insurance had taken effect. She knew her father had been feeling
     far better, and she was looking forward to seeing him in person, hoping, ridiculously,
     for some miraculous change, but knowing she would see only minor improvements. Still,
     her parents’ voices, on the phone and in texts, had been ebullient. “Everything’s
     different now,” they’d been saying for weeks, and had been asking to have her come
     celebrate. And so, looking forward to the imminent gratitude, she drove east and south
     and when she arrived,her father greeted her at the door, looking far stronger and, more importantly, more
     confident, more like a man—the man he once was. He held out his wrist monitor and
     arranged it parallel to Mae’s. “Look at us. We match. You want some vino?”
    Inside, the three of them arranged themselves as they always had, along the kitchen
     counter, and they diced, and