REMINGTON: Given the indignity of this whole tribunal, being called by my first name is the least of my problems.

  TRINITY: It’s not a “tribunal,” Mr. Alabaster. It’s an informal hearing in which we’d like to hear your side of the story. I’m troubled that your attitude seems so adversarial. We’re only interested in the truth.

  CURTIS: You’re aware that, uh . . . [flapping of paper] replacing high-pressure sodium street lighting with light-emitting diode technology could significantly reduce Albany’s carbon footprint, thus mitigating climate change. You’re also aware that, you know . . . despite high initial capital costs, conversion is also in the city’s long-term economic interest.

  REMINGTON: In that you’re reading from the preface of my own report, I am obviously aware of these matters.

  CURTIS: But according to Lucinda Okonkwo, who testified to this committee last week, you became resistant to the very project that she’d entrusted you with.

  REMINGTON: Gary Neusbaum entrusted me with it, actually. But my so-called “resistance” to LEDs in general is a mischaracterization.

  TRINITY: According to Ms. Okonkwo, your approach to the conversion was “obstructionist,” your dealings with your superior on this issue were “oppositional,” and your concern with the minutiae of implementation grew “unhealthily obsessive.”

  BRANDON: Like, Lucinda seems to think you saw a bunch of problems where she couldn’t see how there were any. So you like, got on the wrong side of each other. I’ve seen how that can happen. It almost always gets worse and worse. Instead of talking out differences of opinion rationally, everything gets all personal. So nobody wants to back down, because any compromise would seem like surrender. That’s how cases like this end up before this committee.

  REMINGTON: But I didn’t initially approach this conversion as a contest of wills, Mr. Abraham. I simply identified a range of issues that had given rise to protest, sometimes highly organized and vociferous protest, in other cities. I realized that all these objections could be headed off by choosing the right housing and fixture.

  CURTIS: But according to Ms. Okonkwo, the products you recommended were too pricey. And much less energy efficient. Which would defeat the purpose of the conversion in the first place: to save both money and the environment.

  REMINGTON: They were slightly more expensive, and slightly less efficient, which I documented in detail in my appendix. Amortized over the lifetime of the units, the incrementally higher cost and minor reduction in energy savings would be more than offset by a range of beneficial trade-offs.

  TRINITY: According to Ms. Okonkwo, all you cared about was that the new lights were “pretty.”

  REMINGTON: That’s a trivializing way of putting it. But yes, I did think the city should take into consideration the powerful aesthetic impact of public illumination. Blue-spectrum light has been strongly associated with depression—

  TRINITY: Don’t you think that mood lighting is an awfully middle-class, even elitist concern? Do the poor and marginalized communities of this city care first and foremost about appearances?

  BRANDON: Hey, just because you’re broke doesn’t mean you have no feelings about what shit looks like.

  TRINITY: Still, I said first and foremost—aren’t the poor and marginalized more likely to care about the cost-effective use of their tax dollars?

  REMINGTON: “The poor and marginalized” contribute very few tax dollars. Since for the lower income we’re largely spending other people’s money, I don’t imagine they care about our economizing in the slightest.

  “You shouldn’t have said that,” Serenata pointed out, pausing the recording at the horrified silence.

  “But it’s true,” Remington said.

  “That’s why you shouldn’t have said it.”

  CURTIS: You’re not exactly doing yourself any favors here, Remington.

  BRANDON: Come on, Curtis. Statistically, the guy’s got a point.

  TRINITY: We’re not talking about statistics, Brandon. We’re talking about attitude. Furthermore, the vulnerable communities for which you exhibit such contempt, Mr. Alabaster, are especially concerned with safety. So the street lighting Ms. Okonkwo preferred—

  REMINGTON: Purchased. Flat out, with no consultation.

  TRINITY: The lighting that she purchased is rated as extremely popular in high-crime neighborhoods, because their brightness makes residents feel safe.

  REMINGTON: They feel safer—

  TRINITY: You don’t care about how vulnerable people feel?

  REMINGTON: They are not, in fact, any safer—or any less vulnerable. As I documented in Appendix D, high-Kelvin-rated diodes have no correlation with a reduction of the real crime rate.

  BRANDON: Can we just say you two disagreed, and get on with it?

  CURTIS: So Remington—when you learned that Ms. Okonkwo—your superior, who after all was only obliged to consider your findings, but didn’t necessarily have to take your advice—

  REMINGTON: I believe Ms. Okonkwo only consulted the document that I delivered to her three years ago in order to do the exact opposite of what I recommended. At every point during her tenure, her decisions have been purely reactive. I may even have performed a useful service. Only her strict adherence to an oppositional formula—doing whatever I thought she shouldn’t, and refusing to do whatever I thought she should—has rescued her management of our department from perfect chaos.

  TRINITY: You seem to have a hostility problem, Mr. Alabaster.

  REMINGTON: I do indeed, Ms. Chase. Ably observed.

  BRANDON: [muttering] That Lucinda can be prickly.

  Serenata stopped the recording again. “I’m just curious. That Curtis guy made a big deal about calling you ‘Remington’ and even asked your permission, and then this Trinity person keeps calling you ‘Mr. Alabaster.’ What’s with that?”

  “Huh. I didn’t notice that at the time,” Remington said. “But listening to it now? I think, conveniently, either choice is an insult. ‘Remington’ is presumptuously chummy, as if we’re all friends here, which under the circumstances impugns my intelligence. ‘Mr. Alabaster’ is depersonalizing and artificially formal, now that in practice pretty much nobody in work situations uses titles and surnames. ‘Mr. Alabaster’ makes me sound older and fustier, but also accords the proceedings a judicially exalted texture at odds with the obvious: the whole hearing is absurd. Interestingly, all those citations of ‘Ms. Okonkwo,’ by contrast, accord my so-called superior a reverence and respect that confers righteousness on the white members of the committee.”

  “Nicely parsed.” Serenata tapped play.

  REMINGTON: If you want another example of this reactive principle of hers, take the restaging of traffic lights all over town—which I vehemently opposed. The entire network is now deliberately out of phase. You stop at one red light, only to stop at the next. And the next. Taxi drivers are livid.

  BRANDON: Son of a bitch. Are you telling me that’s on purpose? I swear, sitting at every intersection on Clinton Avenue adds ten minutes to my commute.

  REMINGTON: All to “discourage car use.”

  CURTIS: Well, doesn’t it?

  REMINGTON: What it does is send idling through the roof, and all this stop-start driving exacerbates air pollution.

  TRINITY: Unless the cars aren’t there at all.

  REMINGTON: Excuse me?

  TRINITY: Unless Ms. Okonkwo is right, and motorists get so frustrated that they use other forms of transport.

  REMINGTON: I’ve been in this department for over thirty years, and take it from me: frustrated drivers lean on their horns in the short term. In the long term, they vote out whole City Council administrations and replace them with elected officials who put the traffic-light phasing back the way it was.

  CURTIS: Look, Remington, can we return to our central agenda, please? When Ms. Okonkwo told you about this LED purchasing order, what did you do?

  REMINGTON: I slammed my hand on her desk.

  CURTIS: And why did you do that?

  REMINGTON: Because I lost my temper.

  CURTIS: And would you say that you “slammed” the desk very hard?

  REMINGTON: That is what the word slammed was meant to convey, yes.

  CURTIS: And would you say that the sound your hand made was extremely loud?

  REMINGTON: It was fairly loud.

  CURTIS: And how did Ms. Okonkwo react?

  REMINGTON: I think she was startled. I was startled. I very rarely lose my temper.

  TRINITY: If you had it to do over again, Mr. Alabaster, would you have kept yourself under control?

  REMINGTON: [pause] I’m not sure.

  TRINITY: The consequences of this inappropriate behavior could be grave, Mr. Alabaster. And you’re not sure that you wish you could take it back?

  REMINGTON: It was a relief. I wouldn’t make a habit of it. But expressing my feelings from the gut . . . As I said, it was a relief. And the gesture made my opinion of her capricious decision far clearer to Ms. Okonkwo than anything I might have said.

  BRANDON: Any chance we could resolve this with a simple apology? Because it seems like this incident is getting blown up all out of proportion. So Alabaster here lost his rag. Would you be okay with telling Lucinda you’re sorry, man?

  REMINGTON: I’m not apologetic about my strenuous opposition to nearly all her policies. But on reflection, I suppose I am sorry that I gave into my anger, however briefly. Because in doing so I gave that young woman exactly what she wanted.

  TRINITY: Due process-wise, I’m afraid we’re well beyond making this all go away with a mere apology. Especially an insultingly insincere apology like that one.

  CURTIS: According to Ms. Okonkwo, your dealings with her from the very beginning of her employment were “weirdly careful.” Your exchanges were, she said, conspicuously “by the book.” She says you were “pulled back, all inside himself, like he’s looking at me from way far away.” You seemed “more like some guy from England than a regular American.” Does that description ring true to you?

  REMINGTON: I have been careful. I wouldn’t say “weirdly” so.

  TRINITY: But why would you need to be careful?

  REMINGTON: [pause] I sensed Ms. Okonkwo was on the lookout.

  TRINITY: On the lookout for what?

  REMINGTON: Just . . . on the lookout. I felt that whatever I did and said was being scrutinized. I sensed I should watch my step.

  “You shouldn’t have gone there,” Serenata said.

  “They took me there. And it didn’t matter where we went,” Remington said impatiently. “In a kangaroo court, the kangaroo can hop all around the edges of the cage, or even play dead. It doesn’t matter. The kangaroo’s fate is sealed.”

  CURTIS: So that would explain why Ms. Okonkwo described you as “wary” and “guarded” and “reticent” and tending to “speak only when spoken to.”

  REMINGTON: I tried to be cordial. I did sometimes make small talk about her family. But can you explain the purpose of this line of questioning, please?

  CURTIS: Well, when people seem to be putting a whole lot of effort into controlling themselves, you can’t help but wonder what all they’re controlling.

  TRINITY: Right. We can’t help but wonder what exactly it was that you were so determined to keep from getting out. What disturbing things you might have done and said if you hadn’t felt “scrutinized.”

  REMINGTON: Let me get this straight. You’ve hauled me before this committee because I lost control for two seconds. And now I am being raked over the coals because the rest of the time I exercised control?

  CURTIS: Do you consider yourself a racist, Remington?

  REMINGTON: No. Although I have yet to witness anyone declaiming about how they’re not a racist without sounding like one.

  CURTIS: And do you consider yourself a misogynist?

  REMINGTON: I can’t imagine how I could possibly be a “misogynist” and still have married a woman who’s far smarter and more talented than I am.

  “Flatterer,” Serenata said. “You knew I’d be listening to this.”

  BRANDON: You should meet my wife, man. That woman makes me look like a genius. Folks think, if he’s married to a lady that sharp, that guy must really have something going on.

  CURTIS: And, Remington, do you have a problem with immigrants?

  REMINGTON: Ms. Okonkwo was born in this country, and last I read that makes her an American and not an “immigrant.” You can’t have it both ways.

  TRINITY: But is there any chance that some of the thoughts you’ve been so determined to stifle because you’ve felt “scrutinized” . . . Given all the post-9/11 anxieties about terrorism, well . . . When you look deep into yourself, might some of these dangerous thoughts you’ve suppressed qualify as Islamophobic?

  REMINGTON: I fail to see the pertinence of your question.

  TRINITY: I’m afraid it’s all too pertinent. Since 2001, anti-Muslim hate crimes in this country have multiplied by several times. In this climate, you honestly believe your own attitudes haven’t been influenced by the abuse, and the tarring with a single jihadist brush, that’s all over social media and the internet—

  REMINGTON: Ms. Chase, Lucinda Okonkwo and her whole family are Christians.

  “Ha!” Serenata paused the recording at the discomfited silence. “They just assumed she was Muslim.”

  “It was another box their diversity hire was supposed to check,” Remington said. “I’m sure they were grievously disappointed. About half of Nigeria is Christian, so their assumptions about Lucinda were supremely ignorant—although every time I flustered them, the worse I knew it would go for me.”

  REMINGTON: Listen, may I please speak freely?

  CURTIS: I hope you have been speaking freely, Remington.

  REMINGTON: Lucinda Okonkwo is belligerent, high-handed, and unqualified. She’s also lazy. I don’t think she’s unintelligent, which makes her especially culpable.

  TRINITY: And you don’t think you’re a racist.

  REMINGTON: Her autocratic ordering of new streetlights for this entire city was typical—after no small-scale trial, no consultation with either the public or her own colleagues, and no consideration of my report, aside from the flip-through that would guarantee she selected the perfect opposite of the products that I recommended. I would submit that she resents my long tenure in this department, my consequent experience in matters about which she is poorly informed, and my academic credentials in this field—

  TRINITY: Isn’t the truth of the matter that you resent Ms. Okonkwo being given the job of department head four years ago, and not yourself?

  BRANDON: She’s got you there, bud. You had the seniority big-time. I’d have been resentful, in your position.

  REMINGTON: Of course I resented it. But I’d never have held on to a sense of grievance if the new department head was skillful and dealt with his—or her—employees in a spirit of cooperation. I got on brilliantly with Gary Neusbaum for decades.

  TRINITY: How surprising. Another aging straight white male.

  REMINGTON: My point is, I dislike my immediate superior, I concede that, I do—but not because I’m racist, or sexist, or anti-immigrant. Not because I’m a whatever-ophobe. I dislike her personally. As an individual. Is that possible anymore? Is it legal to harbor animosity toward a specific person who just happens to belong to a “marginalized community”?

  TRINITY: Prejudice often runs very deep, and thrives on an unconscious level. I don’t know how you could possibly tell the difference between this so-called personal dislike and your own bigotry.

  REMINGTON: So the answer is no. No, you cannot personally dislike anyone anymore.

  TRINITY: The answer is that your so-called personal dislike is going to look suspicious to this committee.

  CURTIS: I’m afraid we’re going to have to focus here on the central charge of violent assault by a subordinate in the workplace.

  REMINGTON: But I didn’t touch her. How can you call that “violence”?

  CURTIS: Your actions, as described, were violent.

  REMINGTON: [crackling, from disruption of mic] According to the internet dictionary at the top of my Google search, violence means “behavior involving physical force intended to hurt, damage, or kill someone or something.” I didn’t even hurt her desk.

  CURTIS: Well, that’s the dictionary definition.

  REMINGTON: I think I said it was the dictionary definition. And what other definition is there? I don’t want to go all Alice in Wonderland on you, but words have to mean something in particular or there’s no point in using language to communicate.

  TRINITY: Your superior felt threatened. She feared for her physical well-being, and even feared for her life—

  REMINGTON: You cannot be serious.

  TRINITY: Threatening members of staff is grounds for dismissal.

  REMINGTON: Just because she felt threatened doesn’t mean she was threatened.

  TRINITY: I’m afraid it means exactly that. You can’t argue with what people feel.

  REMINGTON: But just because she told you she felt threatened doesn’t mean that she actually felt that way.

  TRINITY: How else are we to learn how she felt other than by having her tell us? We can’t do a Vulcan mind-meld. Feeling threatened was her lived experience.

  REMINGTON: Excuse me, but what exactly is the difference between “lived experience” and “experience”?

  BRANDON: Can we stay on the subject? This thing is running kind of late.