When Bad Things Happen to Rich People by Ian Morris

Author:Ian Morris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781609091675
Publisher: NIU Press
Published: 2014-09-02T00:00:00+00:00

Nix recognized this as the sort of thing employed by religious groups awash in cash and published for an audience that was uncomfortable with books—a lot of ornamentation, and a shimmering, holographic (literally) gilded lily.

“Which one is the first?” Nix asked. “Would I need to read them in order?”

“Yes, you should read them in order—I went ahead and arranged them that way for you. Start with Know by Doing, then read Know by Being, then Do What You Are, and then Be What You Do, and then Principles of Practical Extremism. Principles is mostly excerpts from the other books. You could read that if you just wanted to get an idea, but I thought from what I think I know about you that you’d want to start at the beginning.”

“No doubt,” Nix said. He noticed that Mel had tried to clean the spot of goulash off of his shirt. A wet circle radiated from an epicenter beneath his tie. “Practical Extremism. That’s kind of an oxymoron, isn’t it?”

“We say contradiction. But, yes, you’re exactly right. The Central Tenet of Practical Extremism is that the pairing of opposites creates equilibrium.”

“Well, thank you, Mel,” Nix said, lifting his heels to the desk and opening to the first page of the book, he read,

To act is better than to know. To know without acting is a crime of faith. To act without knowing is proof of faith.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought,” Nix said, “I’d take a little time this afternoon to catch up on your man Voigt,” thinking if he pretended to read Lazar would leave.

“I wouldn’t recommend you read those in the office.”

“Really? Why not?”

“There are unclear matters of alignment,” he said. “Particularly in VoicPro, particularly on this floor. The scenario of succession that I described at lunch is one in the future. The current circumstances remain unevolved.”

Nix was going to ask why, when a small, dark girl in an unusual flowered dress appeared in the doorway. He recognized the long black hair and tired eyes and was trying to place them when a woman appeared behind her. It was the woman Nix had seen at the coach house on the grounds of the Fontaine estate.

“Have you seen my mother?” the woman snapped, as though she blamed them for concealing her.

“Your mother?”

“Zira. Mrs. Fontaine.”

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