CHAPTER SIX
Rosa accepted Alex’s invitation and they dined the following day, on leftovers. The generous load of meats drew Kole and Carl as well. Alex spent day three alone. Carl included himself when Alex invited Rosa for “movie night” on day four. Two miserable days with only phone chats followed; another Rosa date that included Carl, where, despite the sting, Alex pulled him aside and asked for a day of privacy with Rosa.
As he showered and groomed, Alex committed himself to trying for a kiss tonight.
Having completed his week of orientation today marked his first as head of programming. He fantasized about giving an introduction speech to his team. Speech might be too strong a term for sharing a vision. Over the past week, he’d learned how Broumgard divided project responsibilities. He intended to revamp their system, assign tasks to individuals according to their strengths and likes; those steps alone should streamline the work.
The option of late stays appealed to him, as well. Not as a routine, or a way to brown-nose, but at Vision Tech, he often stayed past normal work hours, and soon found other programmers joining him. When modeled correctly, an after-hours environment toed the line between labor and recreation. Music cranked. Pizza arrived. Debates about the eventualities of the technology on the SYFY channel took precedent.
The programmers at Broumgard used Plow Straight, but not to its full potential. The first few days would include a crash course taught by its designer. That should increase output and ten to fifteen percent.
He checked the clock, 6:20—the tram departed at ten after seven—and though Rosa and him never discussed it, they had been meeting earlier to acquire face time before work.
Having completed his morning routine, he selected an olive-colored T-shirt and a gray flannel, thinking the color combination complimented his brown eyes.
Racing down the steps, he grabbed two snack bars in the kitchen, popped Victor in his ear, and headed out.
Even in June, Montana provided a frigid morning.
Jogging to the tram tower, he climbed the steps two at a time, hoping he’d early-bird Rosa, spread a Cheshire grin when she arrived, give teasing answer when she queried to the Atrium’s draw.
Her strongest inclination believed they offered some kind of harem, which he guessed held credibility, but the Lobby represented much more than a place to satisfy sexual fantasies.
Reaching the top, Rosa waited in he scrubs; her crossed arms a staked flag of victory.
Carl waited too. Alex grinned. The albino programmer exuded a gentle aura. Alex liked his company and sympathized with his interest in hanging with Alex and Rosa. Just not tonight. Alex planned a full-course meal. He’d rounded up an assortment of candles; had John Mayer loaded in the player.
Rosa smiled at his approach, which started his day more efficiently than dunking his head in a bucket of ice water.
“Morning,” Alex said.
Instead of a reply, Rosa pulled him by the pinky finger, kissed him on the lip. “Good morning to you.”
The unexpected affection acted as a concussion grenade. Deciding their first kiss needed improvement, he stepped in front of her, waited for eye contact, and leaned in. As his lips touched hers, he cupped the back of her head and lost himself in the moment. The slightest tongue contact, yet the kiss’s passion superseded his handful of others.
Pulling away, they had sealed a pact. Their compounding feelings had integrated into one system that would work together to enhance the other.
Carl’s voice broke the mood, “This is uncomfortable, guys.”
Their grins widened to the precipice of laughter.
“Sorry, Carl,” Rosa said, separating from Alex. They resumed their normal morning chat, only this time, Alex held Rosa’s hand.
The tram rode on air. Alex floated toward the work room, trying unsuccessfully to bring his mind around to his work day; to making a good impression.
“Mr. Cutler, one moment, sir,” a bass-filled voice said, drawing him out of his haze.
Alex turned to find the incredible hulk, Dalton, hustling toward him.
“Good morning, Mr. Cutler.”
“Morning.” Alex noticed the two silver bars on the big man’s uniform. Three spear tips for a sergeant, one silver bar for lieutenant, and two silver bars for a captain. Apparently, Dalton being a big man had a double meaning.
“I won’t take much of your time. I know today’s a big one for you. I just wanted to personally welcome you aboard and congratulate you on a good game last week.”
“Thank you, but we both know I should be thanking you. This is a wonderful place.”
“Adisah is the man to thank. He’s a magnificent person.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door to Alex’s work room.
A pair of men wearing suits entered. From the brief glimpse Alex got inside, the room appeared full, which as far as he knew, ran contrary to the norm.
When Alex returned his attention to Dalton, he sensed the man had stalled him to allow those men to enter.
“Anyway,” Dalton said, “great game. If our new guy didn’t try to go low on you, the outcome may have gone different.”
“Win or lose, it was the most fun I’ve ever had.”
Dalton nodded and backed up. “It always is, Mr. Cutler. We’re all excited and anxious to see what you’re going to add.” He clapped his paws, smiled. “You have a great day.”
“Thank you.”
Alex stopped at the door and breathed deep, hoping tardiness wouldn’t be a factor on his Lobby credits.
Double the expected occupants filled his work room. All the normal programmers. A dozen professionally dressed men and women speckled the outer wall. Alex’s heart fluttered. Was this an ambush?
Dr. Brad Finder stood near the front with Rigo Espinosa. Four guys in lab coats, who looked as if they had taken time out of their day to be here, huddled over a tablet. And the man himself, Adisah Boomul, waited with Tara near the main desk.
Adisah had plumped up since the orientation video and gone gray in spots. Age softened his features, making the gentle looking man seem like he belonged in a temple, humming his daily devotions to life.
Energy sparked in the room. Despite its positive feel, Alex chewed his bottom lip, while remaining in the doorway.
As if sensing his presence, Adisah and Tara turned in unison.
“Ah, Mr. Cutler,” Alex beamed, “so wonderful to meet you. Please,” he beckoned him closer.
Everyone turned in his direction. Alex swallowed and navigated through the occupied desks.
Recalling himself bouncing on his toes, being a six-foot-four, organic machine, and realizing this man had been responsible for that experience struck him like a gong, muddled his thoughts.
“You possess a real gift, you know that,” Adisah said with a shake of his head. “To think where we’d be if I would have had someone like you twenty years ago.”
Alex couldn’t reply. The comment was like Stephen King telling you you had a great imagination or Christian Bale marveling at your acting talent. Finally, he managed, “Well, you have me now, sir.”
He waved off the sir, addressed the room.
“Would anyone care to tell Alex what makes him and this day so special for us?”
The sharp crack-hum of an electronic device drew Alex’s attention. An elderly man he immediately recognized as the majority shareholder, Roy Guillen, scooted his Smart Drive wheelchair closer. He nodded with appreciation at Alex while a colleague of his in a corduroy suit stood behind his chair.
Alex had been Googling the man all week. Beyond a hotel mogul, Roy Guillen had climbed mount Kilimanjaro (where they lost a man to exposure) dove the colorful reefs off the coast of Thailand.; spent a year assisting in Tohoku Japan after the tsunami that killed fifteen thousand. Having experienced so much, something about the fiery gleam in the man’s eyes looked out of place in a decrepit body, seated in a wheelchair.
“Very glad you’re here, son,” Roy said. “Very glad, indeed.”
“Thank you, Mr. Guillen.” As long as this summons wasn’t a prelude to Alex’s termination, he would attempt to schedule some face time with the man. It wasn’t everyday you met a real-life action figure, or one of America’s roughly five hundred and twelve billionaires.
Adisah removed a memory stick from the side of a nearby laptop and displayed it to the packed room as he addressed Alex. “Do you know what you’ve done, Mr. Cutler?”
No, he thought. He hadn’t done anything, yet. He scratched behind his ear as he surveyed the room.
Song gave him a surreptitious thumbs up.
Denise pursed her lips in a kiss.
“When entering or exiting a chosen and accessible world from inside the Lobby,” Adisah began, “clients and employees alike have suffered from a discomfort stemming from an unidentified flaw in our software. We all accepted this discomfort as inevitable. A case of taking the good with the bad. A tugging sensation that some have compared to being eviscerated, or spending a day with my financial advisors.”
Forced chuckles circulated the room.
“And thanks to you, Mr. Cutler, that lone detriment has been plucked from our software, making the Lobby the wholly euphoric experience it was designed to be.”
Before Alex could reply, or even progress with words, Tara brought her hands together in applause, others followed. It compounded until the room danced with the sound, replete with desk slaps and shouts.
Alex thought about the message he emailed the design department. A hand clasped his and shook, someone patted his back; Roy Guillen thanked him over and over for his gift.
Eridu and the Lobby were Alex’s gift; ones that surpassed his wildest dreams.
At this moment, in his new home, surrounded by his new peers, he couldn’t imagine anything ever going wrong.