Virtual Eternity (the Serialized Novel) Episode 3 - The First Meetings: Accessing the corporate secret, Magic Theater

This is Episode 3 of the serialized version of the novel, Virtual Eternity: An Epic 90s Retro Florida Techo-Pro-Life Love Story and Conversion Journey. These 52 episodes are presented here free for you every Friday. You can buy the paperback version from Mike Church’s Crusade Channel Store (at a lower price than Amazon!).

Chapter 1(B) Reality - Analogous (continued)

Late in the morning of my second day, I waited for my friend in the lobby. I hoped he could help explain how to impress Lana, and why. Was she worth staying for? Should I try to gain access to the guarded international secrets of this Magic Theater? It seemed important. It surpassed the individual: the feelings of Meredith and myself.

I sat in a wide chair that circled a planter under a chandelier. Several co-workers passed me, strolling through the glass doors on their way to lunch. Did they have access? Did they know the secrets that other companies risked ruin to obtain?

Mike Coggins hopped out of an elevator. A year had passed since we last saw each other. Our loud greeting turned the heads of several lunchgoers.

He drove us to a restaurant next to the ocean, then we ambled from the car to the building. The sun focused its heat on us. We chattered about our past, its whims and incidents.

We had joined the same fraternity early in our college days and had lived in the same house for four years. Mike finished his coursework a year ago. The company hired him as an accountant. He helped set up my interviews and push my resume up the management chain.

We entered. Squares of cold tile covered the floor, as they did in almost every indoor space here. The tile cooled the air and allowed the sand to brush lightly over it instead of sinking into carpets forever. The restaurant noise, the food preppers, the few early lunching seniors, who seemed to speak a little louder anyway, and the ever-present air conditioning bounced off the floor and magnified.

The waitress seated us near the beach view.

The restaurant separated itself from its nearby competitors because it used waitresses, thus capturing the professional crowd. But its designers had configured the place to be ruggedized for its most likely patrons: beachgoers.

The beachgoer dressed to match this place: bare legs matching the bare floors, shirts decorated with suntan lotion advertising and bright as the wallpaper, in accord with the sharp lines and bright colors of the surf art on the walls.

Mike glanced at his menu and lay it down. He snapped his head back and forth to look at the other seven or eight people in the restaurant. One waved as he walked up.

“’Sup, Kevin,” Mike said.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. Hi, I’m Kevin.” He greeted me with a mushy handshake. “I got caught in a meeting. It’s the same thing: No one can decide what to do.” He appeared to be in his mid-twenties also. His hair was long over his eyes and shaved near his ears.

“Kevin writes the software for the access hardware,” Mike said. “He just finished testing the smart card reader we bought, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think of the company so far, Jonathan?” Mike asked. “They treat us pretty good. But it’s a shame about the layoffs. The same day you hire on, rumors start.”

“They just recruited dozens of people for these new market areas, and now they might cut back? That sucks.”

“Who knows what higher management is thinking?” Kevin said with a monotone voice. “Maybe they hired you because you got talent, or because you’d help justify a dead-wood layoff, or because they had relocation money to spend. Who knows what those guys are up to?”

“Everette’s wife caught him having an affair,” Mike said. “She divorced him and took more than half his assets in one week.”

“Everette?”

“He’s our General Manager. Maybe he’s cutting overhead because he needs the short-term profit to boost his bonus and pay his alimony. Who knows?”

Seagulls pestered the few patrons braving the heat, dining outdoors. The birds dived and rose, squawked their gaiety, and reminded everyone they lived next to the sea.

“This is an excellent place to live. The city. The beach.”

“Definitely,” Mike said as he rubbed his spiky hair and leaned back. “A lot of babes come to this beach. And the windsurfing, it rocks. It’s my passion.”

I smiled as I remembered my fortune from the previous day. For Mike, my legend would continue: a lunch appointment with the first corporate woman I encountered. As professionals, we all knew that the first level of courtships is the lunch: One is not committed to entertaining the other for an entire evening.

“Speaking of beautiful women. Yesterday I set up a lunch with the head Human Resources woman.”

“Lana Schon? No way! You’re amazing.” Mike put up a palm, which I tapped with mine. “You should see her here.” He motioned to the beach. “Superb body. She’s been dating some guy from Miami for a year or so, but I hear that’s now in question. She is choice, but older than I’d like. I’ve been seeing this girl from Finance for about a year. Her name’s Gina. We even hooked up Kevin with someone.”

“I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend,” Kevin said as he stared at the beach. “But we’re in a relationship.”

“What’s her name?” I asked. “Winnie.” He shrugged. “She’s a medical assistant.”

“Gina’s got a lot of friends,” Mike said, voice rising as the restaurant filled. “She just met this one chick who’s actually a virgin. Can you believe it? When you meet her, you’ll understand why. We’ll set up a happy hour on some Friday night to get you introduced to everyone.”

After our lunch arrived, we discussed life in the area. Mike had saved enough money to buy a new condominium on the barrier island. Kevin’s apartment complex sounded inviting, despite his droning description. It had a busy pool and a large set of singles. Conversations and consumption began to overtake my research, but I pressed on.

“Do you guys play the Magic Theater games?” I asked.

“Oh yeah,” Kevin said, beaming. “I got my helmet upgraded yesterday.”

“Have you seen any of the games yet, Jonathan?” Mike asked.

“No, not yet.”

“We got a gold mine here,” Kevin said with rare inflection. “You have access, right?”

I nodded. “You can talk here?”

“Nobody’s around us yet. I got the new helmet when I got my Phase 2 access to the server. I’m trying out our retinal scanner identifier in the helmet.”

“Isn’t a rectal scanner taking security too far?”

“Retinal scanner, you frickin’ scrub,” Mike said and burst out laughing.

“Cutting edge, dude,” Kevin said. “It reads the unique blood flow pattern on your eyes. Okay, so the company gives us Phase 2 at home, for free. Besides the test market, we’re the first in the country to play it. Last night I downloaded this cool soccer game.” Wide-eyed, he explained how Vincula’s central computer transfers a program to one’s entertainment center. This technology allowed the programs to run on your computer and erase themselves after they’ve finished.

“All I get are card games,” Mike said as he glanced at a tall brunette that brushed by our table. “I need a new viewer.”

“Yeah, the old ones were obsolete weeks ago,” Kevin said.

Each gaming session continued for one to six hours, sometimes more. Kevin’s confrontations on the previous night went for five hours.

“The match lasted ‘til midnight. Absolutely thrilling. No problem marketing this package. Since you’re selling Magic Theater, you’ll get Phase 3 access.”

“Phase 3? I was slated to get that.”

“Awesome,” Kevin said after a sip of iced tea. “You’ll get to test all the new games we can’t access. They give out a limited number. I was hoping to get Brewster’s.”

“Brewster?”

“Dude died last week. Heart attack at 43. Anyway, Phase 3s are hard to get. You must’ve impressed someone at your interviews.”

“Well, apparently all my accesses got canceled.”

“What?” Kevin said. His eyes darted around. “Not even for Phase 2? I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re not supposed to know any of that. Look dude, I could lose my access. I could lose my job. So you won’t say anything?”

“No, of course not. You didn’t say much.”

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t even know who you are. You sure you won’t tell them?”

“No way. Chill out.”

“Forget it, Kevin, he’s cool,” Mike said. “Sorry, Jonathan. The spy rumors, the new law, and layoffs got us on edge. They’re even threatening prison time for anyone who leaks or violates rules. We need to be careful.”

A half-hour later, everyone returned to work, tallying the time until they could leave again. As I entered the glass doors, I bubbled. With my immature perception, I thought that life could be simple in this new place, if I proceeded like Mike Coggins. In that life, he had all one needed: an advantageous career, a girl, a condominium, an intense pastime. Moreover, one needed Phase 3 access to Magic Theater. I was one signature away from being in the elite of knowledge.

But most of all, Lana. I straightened as she approached in the lobby. Blood flushed my face as I greeted her. She smiled, and her perfumed, concave torso walked past.

In this moment, I grasped that Lana held an Eternal that surpassed what Meredith held, the most perfect of all, which could only be God; I was somehow more certain of this Eternal, this God, before me – It was not Lana herself, but Something separate from her, the perfection she embodied.

During the next few weeks, I made strides. I signed for a one-bedroom loft in Kevin’s apartment complex. Also, using deliberate hallway encounters, I arranged a couple of lunches with Lana. At the first, she invited three others. At the second, on the Wednesday of my third week, she met me at a restaurant alone. Conversation flowed well, in my opinion. She critiqued her favorite restaurant as we waited for the bill.

“That sounds like a great place.” I smiled. “Would you care to accompany me there this Friday night?” I asked, mimicking formality. We knew a weekend dinner was the second level of courtship.

“Oh, I already have plans.”

In the next few silent seconds, we both sighed.

“I’m going to Santiago’s, on the river,” she said. “Maybe I’ll see you there. Thanks for asking, Jonathan.” I decided not to ask about Saturday. We said nothing more until the waiter brought my change.

Minutes later, at the glass tower, I bounded from the elevator directly to my new boss’s office. Daniel Olson had finally returned from his leave. I was hoping he could help me obtain Phase 3 access.

I greeted an older black man seated at a desk with his back to a window wall. Grinning, Olson leaned over and extended his hand. “It’s good to meet you, finally. I must ask your forgiveness. I’ve been sick for the past month or so. I hope you’ve been able to find your way around. Have you found a place to live? It must be hard to be alone in a new town and in a huge company.”

Olson’s accent was deep south, I guessed Georgia, since he sounded like one of my favorite football-college running backs from my hero-filled childhood.

He appeared to be in his early sixties. He was a thickset man with silver, wavy, slicked-back but thinned-out hair. According to the photographs on his desk, he headed a family of eight children, most of whom appeared to be at least college age.

His office was a museum of past projects and products. Binders lined a set of metal bookshelves covering the entire wall in front of his desk. Pictures formed a matrix on the other wall. Some were framed with scribbled farewells from former co workers. He piled his dozen or so award plaques on the floor next to his desk in a tower. The top one was dated twenty years ago, when I started pre-school. He arrayed papers on his desk in straight stacks. The only clutter was his computer screen’s explosion of little icons and a box filled with the bold text of unread messages, maybe because of his long absence.

Olson managed a marketing group of about ten to twenty people, depending on whose organization chart one read. People had been whispering over cubicle walls that Olson was a likely candidate for the layoff. “They apparently don’t care that he’s black,” someone said. Soon Vincula might offer him an involuntary early retirement benefits package. Men above him compiled the lists of names they’d discharge. The work associated with Olson’s name could be replaced by someone up on the latest management and marketing approaches. Yet Olson had smiled constantly since the meeting began, as we chatted back and forth about life in Florida.

“I see you have a big family,” I said as I glanced at the photographs.

“Yes, and they’re our finest joys. In our faith, we believe the family is the most important entity in earthly life, except for the Church, of course. My wife and I adore every moment we’ve had with these kids. It’s hard: all the money, all the time spent with their activities, all the stress in dealing with their teenage problems. But it’s a delight every other minute.”

Olson leaned over his desk. “I don’t know what I’d do without my family and my faith. When I first left college, like you, I was very confused. For a long time, I had no idea why we lived, worked, and died. Many years later, I discovered the secret. I had to discard all the theories I learned in college, and I forced myself to give the absurd a chance at becoming Truth. And it did. One’s purpose becomes clear. But I felt more than that. I understood that my family and I have been truly blessed, but not because we’ve led good, moral lives. We’ve been blessed, constantly, because... well, because of the nature of God.”

He crossed his arms, smiling. “You seem like such a conscientious young man. In fact, I must confess that you remind me of one of my sons. I could tell from our phone interview, and I feel the same way now.”

“Conscientious?”

“Absolutely. We need someone like you, Jonathan. I feel this company is heading in the wrong direction. It’s young men like you who can turn it right. I don’t often do this at work, but would you like to hear more about our faith?”

“Which faith are you?”

“Christian. That is, Catholic.”

I cleared my throat and lowered my eyes. “Not right now, but it sounds interesting. I’m trying to figure these things out, but it’s hard without first knowing for sure how to say it all logically.” I paused, having bewildered myself, as usual. “Anyway, at the moment, I have a ton of questions about my job.”

“Please forgive me, Jonathan,” Olson said through a smile. “I usually never do that. Some other time.” He swallowed coffee from a gold mug. “You been coming up to speed on Magic Theater?”

Magic Theater? Olson had not heard about Lana’s decision. I nodded silently.

“Well, what do you think of it?” For once, he frowned. “Do you see its supposedly monumental sales potential? We launched a preliminary version into a test market a few weeks ago, and it looks like it’s doing far better than anyone expected.”

“Is that Phase 1? I haven’t seen any mention of where or when they released Phase 1.”

Olson scowled. “This is Phase 2. No one knows what Phase 1 was, or even why it’s named Magic Theater. It was the chief designer’s decision, like it or not. I make no secret of the battles we’ve fought with those programmers up north about making something people will buy. You’ll eventually get to visit them, where the development takes place. Anyway, it’s been selling well, once it’s marketed locally. After people try it at trade shows, word of mouth gets it widely accepted. But we’re looking for a national consumer base. The television commercials for the old products don’t work.”

I nodded again. I could not mention my access yet.

“I’ve seen those commercials,” I said. “They don’t excite younger people, your target. My age group’s been immersed in TV since infancy, and no advertising acts affect us anymore. All the data say we only want to be told something exists, how much it costs, and how much quality it has. And we won’t pay too much. Ex-students with debts and no jobs can’t afford a lot.”

Olson looked down and murmured something. He peered over his reading glasses.

“We’re rethinking our strategy,” Olson said. “Vincula has invested millions developing this package. As you may know, we’ve been in dire financial straits for some time. The Japanese companies are clobbering us. Vincula management is risking the entire company on this product. They’ve given us a good marketing budget, and a lot of experienced people are involved. We have a big team meeting every month. You’ll get to meet most of them then.”

I continued stating my theories on approaching the new market. Olson chuckled at my idealism.

“But, Jonathan, this is being handled differently from anything else I’ve ever sold.”

“Well, it’s a very different product.”

“Ah, I detect cynicism in your voice.”

“Oh, no, sir. Not at all.” This sort of entertainment did seem senseless, but had I revealed my doubts?

“You’re alright,” Olson said. “You, in particular, should always question this product. I haven’t reconciled selling these games to young people. I’ve rarely had a hard time marketing products I don’t believe in. If they aren’t the best value or they’re things I wouldn’t buy myself, I know those are only my tastes. But some products are wrong, for everybody.”

“What do you mean?”

Olson paused and rubbed his chin. “I shouldn’t let my opinions discourage you. Of course, this is only between you and me. I’m sorry, Jonathan. I shouldn’t have said anything. When you get deeper into the games, you’ll form your own ideas.”

Maybe the games were trifling. But wrong or immoral?

Olson spun his chair to the window. “Jonathan, this career can be extremely ambiguous. You never have enough data like you would if you were building a bridge, for example, or even programming one of these games. And it’s difficult making people feel a need they wouldn’t normally feel.” He faced me. “But I’ve always gotten beyond my misgivings for the sake of my family. And my Redeemer, of course. Since civilization began, the male curse has been to toil in disturbing or degrading occupations. We have no choice. You’ll probably discover this too.”

Such talk was bizarre, coming from a superior whose career was ending, to a new hire whose millennium was starting.

Next Week: Episode 4 - The Happy Hour Part One: Mingling and flirting with Lana

Copyright © 2022 Christopher Rogers.

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