Waves of Betrayal

“Our next speaker is Mihail… Ehm, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get this wrong. Ion… Ionesco?” The session moderator turned to Mihail with an exaggerated puzzled expression.

“Ah, yes… That’s right”, Mihail said.

“I am sorry, I don’t do well with names from…” The woman looked down at her program. “Moldova? I am sorry. I must admit I don’t know where this is.” The moderator turned to face the audience, raising her hands in a mock gesture of surrender. A stifled chuckle ran through the lecture room.

Mihail felt a rush of blood to the head. His tie chocked him.

“Mr. Ionesco will talk to us about “Structural Analysis of Open Sea Platforms Damaged by Corrosion”. The moderator walked away from the lectern, leaving Mihail in front of a screen, filled with a PowerPoint presentation of his conference paper. He looked at the attendees who quietly awaited his talk. His face felt hot. He massaged the pointer in his hand, thinking how embarrassing it would be when he handed it to the next speaker, covered in sweat. He stood in front of the quarter full room. His throat was dry. As he began speaking, he was sure his voice came out quiet, shaky. He looked at the moderator who sat at the first row, switching her gaze between her program rested on her crossed leg and Mihail. She looked at him over her glasses, her blue eyes filled with condescending curiosity. He flicked to the next slide, his voice turning into a squeak. The few minutes it took him to run through his presentation felt like an eternity.

“Are there any questions?” The woman asked, when Mihail was finished. She scanned the attendees. No one raised their hand.

“Well, it seems you explained your study very well, Mr… Ionesco”, the moderator said. Mihail felt a hint of irony in her voice. “Thank you very much”, said the woman, signalling to the audience to give the customary round of applause. Mihail nodded under the quiet clapping.

“And now to our next speaker, from the Technical University of München…”, the woman continued, as Mihail awkwardly exited the lecture room.

He was in a vast foyer area, from which a large Aula and three smaller lecture halls were accessed. A large relief announcement this was the “Technical University Delft”. It had been more than fifteen years since Mihail had left the Netherlands after his graduation, but he still remembered how proud the logo had made him feel. The sun flooding the space through the panoramic glazing blinded him. He felt sick. 

Mihail rushed through the deserted space. He opened the door to the toilet with a loud bang and ran into one of the stalls. Dropping to his knees, he vomited loudly in the toilet bowl. As he emptied the content of his stomach, a phone chime sounded from the pocket of his suit. Mihail flushed and cleaned his mouth with toilet paper. He put the lid down and sat on the toilet, taking out his phone.

“How was it honey?”

“Are you okay?” 

A weary smile appeared on Mihail’s face as he read the texts.

“Yes, all good Lilli”

“Just a bit nervous as usual in front of people”

“But there weren’t many in my session”

“How are the little ones”, Mihail continued the texting.

The foyer was still largely empty when he came out of the toilet. He put a mint in his mouth and considered whether he wanted to go back to the conference presentations or wait for the upcoming coffee break.

As he paced around, a familiar figure appeared coming up the stairs from the entrance located one level below. Mihail squinted in the light coming through the windows, immediately recognising Alexander Verhoeven.

“Alex?” He called. Mihail knew from the conference program that he might meet his old university friend at the event.

“Mikey!” Verhoeven took the last couple of steps in an effortless jump. “Come here, my friend!”

The two embraced. For a few seconds, they looked at each other, each studying how the years had changed them. They had studied at that same university. Mihail was a poor scholarship student from Moldova. Verhoeven was a middle class Belgian. They could hardly be more different. But they went through a lot together. Sleepless nights doing course work. Long drinking sessions. They used to be close and shared everything- from anxieties about the future to love troubles, hopes and dreams.

“Oh God, you look pale”, said Verhoeven, cheeky smile on his face. “Are you still anxious to speak in front of people? I’m so sorry I missed your presentation.”

“Some things never change”, said Mihail, raising his hands in surrender. “You look better than ever! I’ve been following you on LinkedIn. What a career!”

Mihail looked at his old friend. Verhoeven had always been the extrovert. They were both tall. But Mihail knew his own posture had always been slightly hunched. Alexander was more athletic and carried an air of confidence. He had a dark blond hair and an oval face which carried an air of confidence. In comparison, Mihail’s features were forgettable and rather generic. Just an Eastern European with a reasonable engineering career and a cheap suit.

The door of the auditorium opened and conference delegates poured out into the foyer for the coffee break.

“Alexander”, someone’s voice boomed behind Mihail. “So good to see you!” Mihail turned around and saw an old professor from their university days approach them. The man passed him by and embraced with Verhoeven. “I am looking forward to your keynote presentation.”

“I hope you like it”, Verhoeven said with a smile. “Do you remember Mihail Ionesco, Professor?” He stepped to the side and gestured to his old friend.

“I am sorry, I can’t say I do”, the old man said, studying Mihail. He politely extended his hand for a handshake.

“That’s alright”, said Mihail awkwardly. “You have thought so many.”

Several more people approached and greeted Alexander. Mihail fell into the background. At that moment, it seemed like everyone wanted a cup of coffee, a piece of cake and a piece of Verhoeven. Mihail stood to the side, observing his friend basking in people’s attention. It was what he always did best. Mihail walked away from the group and towards the coffee stand, his mind engulfed in memories from his university days.

By the end of the coffee break, Mihail had managed to have a few basic conversations and felt reasonably satisfied with his social effort. A bell sounded and delegates started to loll lazily into the auditorium for the afternoon keynote speeches.

The grand hall was dimly lit. Delegates slowly took their seats. Mihail sat down in one of the middle rows and watched as the organisers wired Alexander near the lectern. “Tuned Wave Dampers for Ocean Oil Rigs”. The title slide looked slick. It carried the logo of “DeepBlue Solutions”, the multinational corporation where Verhoeven enjoyed a tremendous success. The imagery on the screen was captivating. The title stood in front of a video loop of an oil rig in the middle of a tumultuous sea, waves battering the enormous steel structure.

“Welcome back to the Aula, I hope you enjoyed the coffee and the chance for networking”, spoke the moderator, a tall bald man in his fifties. “It is with great pleasure that I announce our keynote speaker, and chief innovation officer of our golden sponsor “DeepBlue Solutions”. From the company’s headquarters in Amsterdam- Dr. Alexander Verhoeven”.

The auditorium erupted in loud applause as Alexander energetically walked out onto the stage. Mihail thought that the level of excitement was more reminiscent of a rock concert than an engineering conference.

“I am extremely proud to say that Dr. Verhoeven is an alumni of this university. Today, he will talk to us about the challenges of constructing much needed infrastructure in some of the most inhospitable areas of our oceans. Alexander will reveal for the first time his new, patented technology for active damping of oil rig structures… Once again, please welcome Dr. Verhoeven.” Another round of applause followed, as Alexander took centre stage.

“How long can we continue like this?” Verhoeven’s voice boomed through the audio system. Powerful images of ecological destruction filled the giant screen. Sea well structures destroyed by ocean storms and oil spills appeared behind the speaker, accompanied by an ominous orchestral music. Alexander spoke with vigour about the ecological and economic challenges of marine construction. Mihail looked around the auditorium and observed the delegates who eagerly lapped up every word. “Is there a cleverer way to build?” Verhoeven asked, the audience following his gracious moves on stage. “What if we could exploit the power of AI? What if we could make our structures more efficient, by employing the capabilities of deep machine learning and synced the responses of our sea structures with data of computer models of upcoming sea storm?”

Mihail’s heart sank deep in his chest as Alexander continued to speak. He remembered how he often talked to his friend, years ago in the early hours of the night when they studied or worked on course projects. Mihail often fantasised about employing artificial intelligence as a means to actively improve the safety and efficiency of sea rig structures. He had done early models and research. He had shared his passionate ideas with his only true friend at university. Now, he saw his ideas coming to live. Presented by Alexander as his own. Mihail felt his heartbeat pounding in his head. He heard someone clear his throat. He turned to his right and saw a woman sitting next to him, frowning as she looked at him and then at his leg. He realised his knee was jiggling up and down. “Sorry”, he muttered. He placed both his hands on his leg, trying desperately to stop its movement. Mihail struggled to breathe. He felt like the auditorium got smaller. Verhoeven’s voice echoed loudly in his head, his throat felt tight, as if steel hands clasped around his neck, choking him. Alexander continued presenting the technical details of DeepBlue Solutions’ patented new technology. Every fundamental aspect of it came straight out of Mihail’s early work. 

“Let’s build a better future”, Verhoeven’s voice boomed from the stage as the professionally crafted imagery behind him changed to a bold and optimistic vision for open sea structures, the tone of the accompanying music lively and uplifting. Enormous steel behemoths appeared on screen, effortlessly resisting the battering of exaggerated sea storms. The videos were peppered with images of race diverse men and women in oil worker attire. The characters appeared calm, confident in their safety as they worked on a rig.

“Excuse me”, Mihail whispered. He stood up. Looking down, he made his way out of the auditorium, under the frowns and disapproving sighs of the delegates he had to pass by.

In the grant foyer, Mihail found himself alone with a few members of staff who lingered around the tables with refreshments in the distance. Mihail leaned forward with his hands on his knees, trying to regulate his breathing. His dreams had been stolen by his friend. Alexander had built his career on the basis of Mihail’s research. He felt betrayed, humiliated. He breathed in, his lips shaking. His phone chimed.

“Hope you’re having a good time?” Lilli’s text read. Mihail ignored it.

He was pacing around, feeling like an animal in a cage. Behind him, the auditorium exploded in applause and cheering. The double door opened and delegates poured out into the foyer. Alexander Verhoeven walked, surrounded by delegates. They patted him on the shoulders and shrieked in excitement.

“Alex, can I talk to you?” Mihail tried to get his friend’s attention.

“Mikey…”, Alexander started. But the fuss around him was impenetrable. Delegates flocked to shake his hand. Questions and comments about DeepBlue’s new technology poured from all sides. “Catch up later, Mikey. Okay?” Alexander said, as he was mobbed by the crowd. Mihail was left amid the busy foyer as the group moved forward.

“May I have your attention, please?” Mihail moved between a few delegates and saw one of the organisers trying to out speak the noise. It was the woman who had moderated his session earlier. “We have a surprise for all delegates. You are all invited to a boat trip to central Delft and a cocktail dinner. Courtesy of our golden sponsors… DeepBlue Solutions.” The foyer erupted in cheers.

Soon, all delegates left the university campus and made their way in guided groups to the nearest canal. Mihail walked alone, always a few steps away from others. He felt detached, like he was in a dream. His mind raced. He sought any reasonable explanation for Alexander’s betrayal.

“The first canals in Delft were built in the 12th century”, the distant voice of the boat driver and guide announced through the audio system. The delegates had been split into groups between several boats which started navigating their way along the “Schie” canal. Alexander had been allocated to another vessel. “Like many other cities in the Netherlands, Delft developed around its canals. They were crucial for transportation, defence and drainage…”, the guide continued.

The dinner was at a restaurant in a historic building, at the crossing point between two canals. The boats moored nearby and delegates disembarked under the pleasant early evening sun. They took the short walk on the old cobbled street in groups of several, all joyously chatting and laughing.

The party was a haphazard affair. Guests all stood in the large restaurant hall and inner garden, continuing their conversations in constantly changing groups. Waiters went around with trays, serving small plates which got snapped up quickly. Mihail only spoke to a few people, a couple of engineers from the industry he knew, several delegates who had seen his presentation. He listened to himself talk. He was flat, disengaged. His eyes constantly searched for Alexander. Verhoeven seemed impossible to approach. Surrounded by shrieking admirers, vividly talking and laughing.

“Honey, are you okay?”

“Why aren’t you texting me?”

Mihail stared into his phone, relieved he had a legitimate reason to not talk with anyone. He decided he had had enough and walked out of the restaurant. He breathed in the cool June evening air with a relief. The night was clear and the traditional Dutch architecture along the canals provided for a soothing atmosphere. He walked a few metres down the street and took out his phone, contemplating what we would write to Lilli.

As he started typing, Mihail saw Alexander exit the dinner venue with his own phone to his ear. He observed his old friend, who smiled and joyfully gestured as he spoke. In contrast, he felt on edge. His palms sweated and his face tingled. Mihail approached and raised his index finger, trying to draw Alexander’s attention. Verhoeven signed him politely to give him a second and soon finished his conversation.

“Hey, Mikey! Hope you’re having fun?” He said.

“Alex, you took this from me”, Mihail started, shakily. “Do you not remember these were my ideas, Alex? We discussed this so many times at the university!”

“Wow, hang on, my friend”, Alexander said. “What are you talking about?”

“The AI enhanced damping system… Do you really not remember these were my ideas, Alex? And you’ve built your whole career on that! Without even giving me credit?”

“Wait, wait, wait”, said Verhoeven, his tone now serious. “These were just a student’s ramblings, Mikey. And I was there, remember? These ideas were mine as much as they were yours, if not more! And I made this happen, not you!”

Mihail stood speechless, feeling his head throb from the blood rushing to his brain. The world around him shook. His mouth trembled. His eyes were wide open, fierce. He clenched his fist and lunched forward. He landed a punch on Verhoeven’s jaw, the guy’s head lashing back. Small drops of blood splashed on the cobbles.

Alexander staggered back. “What the fuck?” He only managed before Mihail kicked him hard in the abdomen. Verhoeven bent down around his foot. 

“You betrayed me”, Mihail cried. “How could you betray me?” His voice was shaky. He grabbed Verhoeven by the collar and forcefully turned him to face him. Blood trickled from the side of Alexander’s mouth. His eyes showed horror.

“Mikey…”, Alexander pleaded. “Mikey, please”.

Mihail looked into his friend’s eyes. He felt his own watery. A warm tear trickled down his cheek. He felt like there was a tennis ball stuck in his throat. “I loved you so much, Alex. You were my best friend!”.

Mihail stared into Verhoeven’s helpless eyes. He pushed him. Hard. Alexander fell backwards. His head landed on a mooring cleat positioned at the edge of the canal, a cracking sound echoed in the quiet evening. Verhoeven’s body tumbled over and fell into the water.

Mihail’s eyes widened as he realised what had happened. He hastily took off his jacket. “Help”, he cried, plunging into the cool water of the canal. It was only about one and a half metre deep and he was able to stand up, lifting his friend’s body and turning it to face upwards. “Help!”. Struggling in the water, he noticed the back of Verhoeven’s head. His skull was caved in. An unnatural indentation was visible, looking like a doll’s head that someone had stepped on.

Several people poured out of the restaurant. Loud screams pierced the air. The area quickly filled with others. A few jumped in the water, gasping at the sight of Verhoeven’s head. Loud horns echoed. Mihail followed the sound with his gaze, noticing a couple of bicycle police officers racing towards the scene from a distance.

In the chaos, a barely audible sound could be heard from Mihail’s phone. The device had fallen out of his jacket and lay on the ground.

“Incoming call from Lilli”, the screen announced.