CHAPTER ELEVEN
The previous week’s stress had sapped Alex and Rosa’s mood as effectively as if a psychic vampire haunted the condo, feeding off their comfort. And this, dressing up, going somewhere exclusive, preparing for important news, acted as a life-loofa, scrubbing away the past week’s grime.
A BMW 745il chauffeured the couple to the ground floor entrance of La Berce. Exiting, Alex wiped wrinkles from his collared shirt and microfiber pants; checked the sheen of his loafers. Embracing the privilege of being invited to the reclusive visionary’s home overshadowed the fear of tonight’s topic: his future.
He met Rosa’s eyes over the roof of the car. In a rose-colored silk dress, her beauty stole his breath. She represented the first woman he had ever loved, the first he’d shared a home with. Using all the imaginative prowess that helped him aggregate data into a fantasy reality, he couldn’t fathom their separation.
They linked hands behind the trunk and crossed under the tram toward the well-lit entrance of La Berce.
“I’ve worked in this building for years and only used the ground entrance one other time,” she said.
A gust of wind swept her hair in his direction. He stared at the wavering ends, which seemed to be reaching out to him, as if they too shared in the couple’s bond and yearned for contact with their life partner.
“I found Mary Aberdeen crying outside her apartment about two months before you arrived,” Rosa said. “She learned her father had passed the night before, and for some reason, she planned to attend work that day, but as soon as she hit the hall, grief struck.”
They stopped at the entrance. With his hand on the handle, Alex left the door closed, allowing her time to finish.
“I took her to my place. We cried, talked for an hour, and I convinced her to ask for a leave to attend the funeral.” Rosa smiled. Her eyes softened, as if she was reliving the sympathy she experienced for her neighbor, perhaps for all of humanity. “Once she left, I called work to tell them I missed the tram. They sent a car for me, and I used this entrance.” She smirked as if to say, well, that’s my story.
He stayed quiet as he searched her eyes. A million compliments caromed off one another, leaving him biting his lower lip.
She leaned forward and kissed him, “Are you ready?”
La Berce displayed the opulence of a high-end shopping mall. Marble flooring; the pitter of a running fountain; a glass ceiling, three levels up, doubled as the floor on the tram level.
Shopping and dining options abounded on the tram, or “main” level. The bottom three floors offered more pragmatic venues: dry cleaners, dental office, an optometrist, a wide range of doctors, postal services; along with other necessities.
Rosa pointed at a shop on the second floor. “There’s where the orthodontal magic happens.”
Alex had met her there twice over the past year and bumped into her boss in San Francisco 1968.
A bellhop approached the couple. “Welcome, Mr. Cutler, Miss Newberg.” He motioned to a double-door elevator with a lone unmanned desk stationed next to it, “Adisah is expecting you.”
The bellhop inserted a key that opened the doors. Boarding, Alex felt like Charlie stepping into the chocolate factory. He and his programmers equaled the makers of magic, the dreamers of dreams.
Rosa squeezed his hand as the elevator climbed.
Adisah visited his Atrium office perhaps five time annually. Everyone knew he never vacationed inside the Lobby. Most assumed him a workaholic; that he secretly toiled away, designing a grand world. By the downward flick of the eyes when Alex invited him inside the Lobby, he concluded the avoidance stemmed from more personal reasons. Perhaps, like Rosa, the machine’s inventor disliked the enhancement of it all? Alex rooted for an Adisah created world, but feared Adisah knew troubling aspects of the Lobby, or envisioned some portentous evolution on the horizon.
The elevator stopped. They adjusted themselves in the reflection of the doors, shared eye contact. The doors opening uplifted his spirits to supernatural, like witnessing the parting of seas.
Adisah, with his ever pleasant smile, allowed the couple room to debark, then shook hands with Alex, with Rosa.
Alex worried he had underdressed. Adisah wore a designer suit, minus the tie, with the top button of his shirt sealed.
“Welcome,” Tara said with a handshake to Alex and a friendly hug for Rosa. She dressed in normal attire for her—as if in preparation to chair a meeting of the board. With her blond hair fashioned in a bun, he couldn’t imagine her relaxed in sweatpants, her feet on the couch, binge watching the hottest show, shifting her hips to release a blast of methane.
“Welcome to my eccentric home,” Adisah said.
The scope of the condo stunned. Muted lighting showed four floors of open space, designed as if constructed in zero gravity. Timber of all shades covered floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Stairs led to a floating island of a second floor; others to a closed door. Glass encompassed the far wall. Forty feet high, overlooking the airport, centered in Eridu.
He stood in a wacky Grand Central Station remodeled with an Eastern motif and designed by Tim Burton.
Adisah guided them over a six-foot wide stream, teeming with fish, by way of a quaint teak bridge. Alex spotted a workstation in the distance. A chalkboard scribed with code and drawings of odd-looking machinery taped to the wall. Before he built the courage to inquire as to their purpose, the group veered in the opposite direction.
Rice paper partitions demarcated the rooms of the main floor. Aromas and the sizzle of cooking meat passed through the material, scenting the penthouse. Employees carried dishes to a stately mahogany table.
“Looks as if the food is ready,” Adisah motioned to four awaiting places. He nestled into the head; Alex and Rosa to his left; Tara to his right.
The courses arrived in waves. For a while, Alex lost himself in a bonanza of flavors. He forgot about the Lobby, the FBI, all that nonsense. He and Rosa chatted often during the meal, about this or that dish.
Once everyone’s stomach filled to bursting, servants cleared the table with precision. Desserts were intensely begged off. The overhead lighting increased.
Tara accepted a glass of white wine and Rosa tried one of Adisah’s pomegranate-sweetened hot chocolates.
A servant also set two paper cups next to Adisah, with pills inside.
He thanked the man, washed them down, and smiled at Alex. “The food was good, yes?”
“Excellent,” Alex said.
“A treat I’ll remember for the rest of my life,” Rosa said.
With his belly bulging, and smiles around the table, Alex couldn’t help but think the Spaniards, Italians, and French had the right of life. It wasn’t predicated on looks or financial achievements. Flamboyant meals of exceptional taste with family and friends brought true happiness. With that secret life knowledge, no wonder they trailed America in areas it considered important: innovations, entertainment, athletics.
“Tonight is a special night, Alex,” Adisah said. “You must know how dear you’ve become to me. How you’ve pushed this company exceeded our expectations. And having a fan as stubborn as Roy Guillen only bolsters your position.”
“Thank you, but the pleasure has been all mine.” Rosa’s hand gently pulsed his thigh. “Roy is a fiery man.” He chuckled at the thought of Roy defending his worth in some private meeting. “He’s been helping with my golf game, and he’s like a kid on Christmas when we discuss the Battle of Gettysburg world.”
“Yes, yes. I’ve been meaning to join you three, but…” He breathed deeply, smiled half-heartedly.
Alex doubted he’d ever see Adisah in the Lobby. Judging from the man’s contemplative nature, joining Alex, Roy, and Roy’s longtime assistant, Charles Arnold, for a competitive day, would simply bore Adisah, perhaps skew his reasoning.
Running into Roy and Charles outside of the Lobby brought an immediate jolt. The frail man occupying the wheelchair and his hunched over assistant hardly resembled the fit, rambunctious men he intended to join the Confederacy with.
“My point,” Adisah continued, “is that without you or Ms. Capaldi, Broumgard would be a shadow of what we are today. I know the last few days have been difficult and I apologize for the inconveniences.” He breathed in through his nostrils, exhaled, and addressed Tara. “Ms. Capaldi, would you care to bring Alex and his lovely companion up to speed?”
A nod and then Tara clasped her hands in front of her and stiffened her back. “This afternoon concluded our negotiations with the government.”
Underneath the table, Alex grabbed Rosa’s hand. She guided them onto the top.
“The first thing to know is no one is going to jail or being fired, and the Lobby will continue to serve our clients.”
“That’s wonderful,” Alex said with a brief chuckle. His chest decompressed. He smiled at Rosa. She sipped her hot pomegranate cocoa without looking a him, set her mug down, and massaged the back of her head, near the Marker’s location. Noticing Alex’s frustration, she lowered her hand, forced a smile.
“I’m afraid some concessions had to be made,” Tara continued, drawing Alex away from dissecting Rosa’s reaction. Tara’s comment conjured the image of armed Marine guarding the entrance to his building. “Things will never be the same, for any of us.”
Alex glanced at Adisah, who directed Alex’s attention back to Tara.
“For starters, Broumgard will be giving the United States partial credit for inventing the technology that led to the Lobby.”
Alex almost choked. Adisah calmed him with a wave of his hand. The invention had nothing to do with Alex. However, assigning false credit seemed…wrong.
Tara inhaled, indicating a death blow. “As of this coming Friday, Eridu will be closed for the foreseeable future.”
Alex leaned back heavily.
“Close Eridu?” Rosa said.
“How do you close an entire city?” Alex said. “We have hundreds of employees.”
Shaking his head, Alex couldn’t help but think this fit the United States’ modus operandi. Take something amazing and beneficial to humankind and bottle it up for themselves.
Adisah rested his elbows on the table and patted Alex’s forearm. “You’ve yet to hear the good news, my friend.” His caring eyes doused Alex’s worry.
He returned his attention to Tara, who added, “The United States of America is going to stamp us with their seal of approval.”
With that statement, a light down some distant tunnel illuminated. Eridu closed? America’s seal of approval? “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means we have designated plots for the immediate construction of Atriums in Los Angelos, New York, and Dallas; and our eyes on another twelve cities. I plan to initiate talks with Great Britain, Japan, and Australia to create a foreign presence.”
Globalization? Alex grew light at the idea.
“We imagine the price for vacations will drop for the first few years until they become affordable for the average Joe.”
Alex’s adrenaline surged as the implications formed conclusive outcomes: Atriums all over the world.
“With the increase in programming staff,” Tara said, “and your training techniques, we expect, in the near future, to add worlds every few weeks, not months. With enough programmers, we could insert different worlds into the Lobby every day.”
Alex heard her with the second part of his mind. The first rolled around the prospect of an army of software engineers. They could produce limitless worlds, of unimagined scope, with intense details.
“In essence, Alex. Broumgard is accepting applications. So, if you have anyone in mind, let us know. We will reopen the access room tomorrow and allow all employees at Eridu, along with various government personnel, to experience the Lobby.”
Alex thought about Sean back at Vision Tech. He wasn’t sure the Lobby qualified as a Noah’s Ark, but he looked forward to offering his old pal a position.
Rosa spoke, “So, all of the employees will get these implants in their heads?”
Alex frowned at the ill-timed remark. A million possibilities pinged around his mind. To Adisah, he said, “I don’t know what to say, I mean, what’s this going to do to the world?”
An eerie silence saturated the air.
A tink sounded as Rosa tapped her glass with the inside of a ring.
One of the staff members cleared his throat.
“It’s going to change it,” Tara exclaimed.
Another stretch of silence as each individual considered the magnitude of where they sat: at the epicenter of a seismic shift.
“I do have one more surprise,” Adisah motioned to one of his assistants, who darted off.
Tara favored Adisah with a confounded look. She mouthed, “What surprise?”
The staff member returned and placed a half-inch stack of papers in front of Tara and another in front of Alex.
Alex leafed through the legal documents and contracts.
Rosa leaned over to get a better view.
It read like hieroglyphics to him. Tara turned the pages at a steady clip, giving each a cursory scan before moving to the next. “What is this, Adisah?” she said while keeping her eyes on the packet.
“Those are legal documents, my dear.” A pause for effect. “Those particular documents make yourself and Mr. Alex Cutler equal partners with Mr. Roy Guillen and I.” He scooted back, and, with the aid of a staff member, rose. “If you’ll excuse me, my medication starts to take effect quite rapidly.”
“Why?” Tara blurted, stopping the man. She gripped the packet in both of her hands as if it contained scandalous blackmail. “Why would you do this for us? We stand to earn tens of billions or your dollars.”
Adisah shuffled over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You are the future of this company, its very essence. Roy avoids the public, and I like it even less. Going forward, we expect both of you to be Broumgard’s face.”
Tara continued to shake her head.
“You know what I believe, dear. Every step a person takes places them on their own path, and each path leads humanity to a brighter future.” He tapped near the bottom on Tara’s paper. “Initial at the X’s, sign where it’s circled. Congratulations, but don’t think this is a ticket to easy street. Much work lies before you.” He gave Tara’s shoulder a parting squeeze and trudged off.
Alex should have been on cloud nine, and buoyancy existed, but trepidation anchored him. He didn’t want to be the face of a company, especially of a product that could reshape civilization. But how could he turn down a key to heaven? Or a gift from its creator?
“What do you think?” Alex asked Rosa.
“It’s a big decision,” Rosa said. “You might want to take some time, think on it.”
Tara lifted her pen and started signing.
Reservation etched Rosa’s features. To avoid their influence, he said, “I can’t say no to this. Unless you hate the idea?”
“I’ll support whatever you decide. However, you know what happened to the man who got everything he ever wanted.” She then reached for her hot chocolate and drank.
Alex pondered a moment, The man who got everything he wanted lived happily ever after, didn’t he?