Matthew S

Eve Matthews

CRACK!

"Holy cow! Matthews hits it straight towards center field - a beautiful drive if I've ever seen one, folks - and it crosses straight past the fences and IT IS GONE! Eve Matthews has done it - the first World Series win in Rays history!"

Those were the halcyon days. You were young, life was beautiful, and you, Eve Matthews, the first woman to ever play major league baseball, were heading straight for a historic career.

You'd always been a natural athlete. You pretty much breezed your way through high school on that strength alone, and skipped college entirely, having been drafted by a Yankees farm team. It seemed like you were pretty much set for life.

You played in the minors for three seasons, being traded from team to team. You lived out of a suitcase, developed a devoted following, and inevitably, were picked up by the Tampa Bay Rays as a first-round draft pick. That summer, you led the underdog Rays through one of the best comebacks in baseball history, culminating in a magnificent seventh-game World Series victory.

After a fifth night of solid partying, you were heading back to my apartment. You were exhausted, elated, and emotionally drained. You were living the dream. You were...

CRACK!

...lying flat on your back in the middle of Fifth Street with headlights speeding off into the distance. Well, crap. You watched, helpless, as the world faded slowly to a blissful sleep.

When you regained consciousness, you were in Bayfront Medical Center. The doctor and your manager explained to you that due to the blow, you had suffered major trauma to the spine. You would never walk again.

Then the press showed up, then the fans... it was horrible. The worst two weeks of your life. You don't even want to think about it.

When you were finally out of the hospital and into a wheelchair, you realized your problems were just beginning. Obviously, your baseball career was over. And since you'd only been playing in the majors for a year, you hadn't saved up enough to live on forever. You were going to have to figure out something to do with your life.

You sold your house in St. Petersburg, Florida, and moved back home with your parents in DC. You were absolutely devastated. It had honestly never occurred to you that you might be anything besides a professional athlete.

Your dad worked for Chevron in the Human Resources department, so he was able to get you a job as a junior accountant. It was a far cry from the life you saw yourself having, but it was work. And, slowly, you kind of got to like it. There's something truly satisfying about crunching the numbers and having them work out perfectly. Math, oddly enough, gave you the opportunity to experience those moments of sublime, transcendent reality that happen so rarely in baseball.

Before long, not only were you a junior accountant: you had become a dyed-in-the-wool math geek.

Years passed. You continued working for Chevron, rising slowly but surely through the organization. You were well-liked at work, but had few friends. You moved into your own place and mostly kept to yourself. It pleased you to be independent in all senses of the word - you had overcome your handicap and made a new life for yourself.

That is, until that one day in November.

It was towards the end of the workday, and you were getting ready to head home early, when Cheryl, your boss, came over to your desk.

"Eve, if you don't mind, I'd like to see you in my office. I've got a special assignment for you."

"Sure, boss."

Your curiosity piqued, you followed Cheryl into her office. She closed the door.

"I'm sorry to throw this kind of thing at you, Eve, but you're one of the brightest people we have. This has just come in from Legal. Now, as you know, we're getting started preparing our annual filing for the SEC."

You nodded. You did know, since you had just been working on it.

"This year, we've got a problem. Two of our automated tankers collided with each other deep in the North Sea. We managed to keep it under wraps, but now that it's year-end report time, we've got to report the loss in our financials. So, if you could..."

Cheryl paused, thinking, and cleared her throat.

"..smooth that over a bit... that would be really helpful."

You couldn't believe what Cheryl had just asked you to do. "But, Cheryl - isn't that illegal?" Not to mention just plain wrong.

"Well... technically, yes. But that doesn't usually stop us. This is actually the fifth straight year something like this has happened, and accounting usually has to pick up the pieces, sadly."

"But what if one of our competitors found out? They could go public!"

"Our competitors?" Cheryl practically fell out of her chair laughing. "You've gotta be kidding me! Our competitors don't want this stuff coming out any more than we do! Every single energy company in the world has been doing this kind of accounting for years."

CRACK!

It was like a lightning bolt went off in your head. You watched as everything around you subtly changed, like a fun house mirror. The formerly pristine white walls developed hairline fractures, then splintered into pieces. Everything went red. You struggled to contain your rage.

"...yes, boss."

You turned and quickly exited Cheryl's office. You were livid. You could barely see straight, but somehow you managed to drive home. You called in sick the next day. You didn't even leave the house. Instead, you surfed the Internet, looking for something - anything - that might make your world seem better.

And, surprisingly, you found it. A small group of individuals that saw the global corporations for what they really were. This group, called the MAGE Institute, was a non-profit political think tank and advocacy group led by a woman named Chris Carpenter. Best of all, it was based right here in Washington.

You emailed Chris and told her your story. You didn't really expect to hear back at all, but were surprised to find that she replied the very same day. Chris invited you to come to the next MAGE Institute meeting to talk about your experience at Chevron.

The meeting couldn't come soon enough. You procrastinated at work, coming up with a few lame excuses why you weren't getting much done. Truth to tell, you were just distracted. Finally, the night of the meeting arrived.

Although you'd never met any of the MAGE Institute members before, you immediately felt you were among friends. There was a real sense of camaraderie here, something you hadn't experienced since your season with the Rays. The members spoke of initiatives to speak at Congress, meetings with federal officials, and protests. They debated how to spend donations and what to recommend in position papers. Then, Chris turned to you.

"Folks, I'm sure you've all met Eve Matthews by now. Some of you might remember her from her baseball days. Recently, she's been working in the accounting department at Chevron, and she's got a story to tell us. Eve, you have the floor."

Hesitantly at first, but with growing confidence bolstered by the rapt attention you were suddenly receiving, you related what had happened in Cheryl's office. When you finished, there was a long, silent pause.

Then a tall man rose to his feet at the other end of the table. "Ms. Matthews, thank you for sharing this with us. My name's Peter Skala. I've been running corporate relations for the Institute for some time now, and I hope we can have the chance to talk after this meeting." The group burst into spontaneous applause.

There wasn't much more left of the meeting after that. Chris made some concluding remarks, and the group took some time deciding on the date of the next meeting. Then a man called Barry brought out a platter of cookies and served coffee. Afterward, Peter approached you.

"What you did tonight took a lot of courage. I admire that."

"Thanks, Mr. Skala. I guess I was just really angry."

"Please, Peter is fine. And you're absolutely right to be angry. That's how I got involved here too. You and I have a lot in common, actually."

Peter continued: "I also work for a large corporation. And like you, I discovered things that I'd rather not have known after working there awhile. But I know the truth now, and I feel like I have a responsibility to do something. I know you do too, or you wouldn't be here."

You nodded.

"Like I said," Peter went on, "I run 'corporate outreach' here." He made finger quotes in the air when he said "corporate outreach." "What I mean by that, basically, is espionage. Now, before you tell me that's not right, let me ask you: is what Chevron is doing to the North Sea right?"

You had to admit he had a point. "I guess not."

"All I'm asking you to do is give us some information every so often. Just when you hear it. If we don't do something, nobody will ever know the truth. The media certainly isn't interested in digging into this stuff, since they're mostly owned by the same people! We've gotten pretty good at making 'leaks' --" (finger quotes again) "...look accidental. The public does have a right, and a need, to know this stuff."

You asked Peter for some time to think about it, but in truth, you'd already made up your mind. After all, this man had offered you something you hadn't even dreamed of: a way to not only wash your hands of the whole sordid affair, but to actually do something to strike back. You'd have to make sure you kept things quiet at work, of course, but you really could make this work.

It turned out Cheryl's faith in your creative accounting abilities was well-placed. You managed to cover up that nasty spill in the North Sea, no questions asked. As far as anyone who wasn't looking too hard could tell, Chevron got hit by, amongst other things, a coincidental set of unfortunate and large banking fees that year. And, like clockwork, a left-wing blogger got the idea that those "fees" (oh, god - did you just do Peter's finger quotes?) weren't all they seemed to be. A few calls to a few banks was all it took, and then the media couldn't ignore the story. Chevron got a massive public backlash that resulted in a new law regulating the use of automated ships in international waters, not to mention a coincidental set of unfortunate and large regulatory penalties. And, of course, nobody suspected you.

After that, you were hooked. You've been feeding insider information to Peter and the MAGE Institute for a few years now, and having great fun doing it. Aside from the adrenaline rush, you really feel like you're finally making a difference in the world. Plus, you've found a great group of new friends in these people.

In fact, that's where you're going tonight: to be with your friends from the MAGE Institute. Chris is Jewish, you see, and she's planning on leading a Passover ceremony. You've never been to one before, and you were raised Lutheran, but you're looking forward to it all the same. Why she's insisting on having you all here is a bit of a mystery to you, but Chris always has her reasons. In any case, it should be an interesting evening.

Who You Know

• Chris Carpenter - You can't thank Chris enough for inviting you into this group. You wish more people were like her.
• Barry Magdalene - A lawyer who used to be a Senator; married Chris a few months ago. Seems like a nice, personable sort.
• Peter Skala - Peter has been your mentor since you joined the MAGE Institute. He is a man of character and conscience and, even if you do find his ebullient style a bit odd at times, you have great respect for him.
• Andrea Skala - Peter's sister, a marine biologist. Andrea seems considerably more idealistic than Peter, perhaps as a result of having less real-world experience.
• James Papadopoulos - This guy creeps you out. He's an ex-Marine who works construction - one of those burly, masculine types. You're fairly sure he's up to something.
• John Papadopoulos - James's brother, and they couldn't be more different. John is a very sweet man who teaches high school English. He seems unhappy a lot of the time, but you probably would be too if you had a brother like James.
• Phillip Harrison - A preacher who does a lot of charity work; seems nice enough, but a bit too zealous for your tastes. People like that are why you don't go to church anymore.
• Frank Bartholomew - A vagrant who hangs around a lot with Phillip. He was in Vietnam, and clearly hasn't been the same since. You have no clue why Chris invited him here.
• Tamasa Valappil - A graphic designer from India, and in a lot of ways, a kindred spirit with you. Tamasa is level-headed, analytical, and wants people to just get along.
• Jamie Schreiber - Chris's foster sister. Very, very devoted to the MAGE Institute, almost to the point of being creepy.
• Simon Cylima - You're not sure if something bad happened in Simon's past or if he's just always been a violent iconoclast. He actually seems to delight in getting on people's bad sides.
• Judy Isaacson - Judy seems like a trustworthy sort of person, which is probably why Chris made her the treasurer of the Institute.
• Jude Fairchild - An ex-cop from Chicago. You're not sure if it's your instinctive distrust of authority figures or his bizarre friendship with Simon, but something about Jude puts you off.