Virtual Eternity (the Serialized Novel) Episode 10 - The Breakup and Makeup: Retaining sanity and Lana
This is Episode 14 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!).
Or you can start reading at the Table of Contents: here
The Poolside: Drinking with Kevin
I watched the heavy early September rain as it dimpled the parking lot and the distant community pool. Nearby mockingbirds bathed in the cloudburst. The sky shone a comforting gray, which I often longed for. Occasionally I wanted to escape the endless greenness of these swamps and hammocks to visit places with gray skies and cold, barren fields, like the ones I surveyed from mountains as a boy.
At times I felt a fire touching me. The television, in a baseball game or a movie to invade my peace and heat, or a friend in a phone call, would distract me from the Truth I was finding. But the fire would push me back to the desk.
I stooped over the pad, facing the window. As I wrote, I left the accidental life of career behind me, tragically dividing myself in two. I entered the realm of words. It differed from my daily world of career and dollars, and my past world of friends and stories. Using the swirls of lines in the dimension of words, one could speak timeless ideas. To help universalize my expression and help make it sound cadenced, I still relied on essential rules of poetic syntax and ancient rhythms. All who knew the meaning of those scribbles could share in my creations.
The words were my last attempts to gain respect from Lana. I must express my struggle and persuade her to see my mind. She must look beyond my personality, beyond my pre-determined drives, beyond her notions of good and evil.
“When man’s soul lacking she does heist, the beast within is sacrificed.
Man’s frightful freedom will occur, the soul unfettered flees to her.”
If only I had pen and paper when I was with her. I tried to recreate my ardor for her, however impossible it was to sculpt her shapes and touches with words, however poorly my memory substituted for my emotions. The idea of her beauty and my sentiments could now form on people’s lips. Maybe they could voice it to those they adored.
And something else drove me, because I knew Lana was beyond me.
The goal was to somehow bring the Eternal she held to our world of matter and objects.
After the rain passed, between verses, I decided to seek some inspiration at the pool. I visited there on many Saturdays, but always forgot about the spring-loaded iron gate. It clanged as it shut behind me and stirred one of the sunbathers. On the other side of the pool lay the stocky frames of Mike Coggins and another friend named Scott Geary. I walked the edge of the concrete and water, then dragged an empty chair next to them.
“Mike, what are you doing here?”
“I got Kevin to invite us. Hey, he’s supposed to come down here. I haven’t seen him in about three weeks. I wanted to see if he got laid off.”
We chatted, drank slippery cans of beer, and read sports magazines in the rubber-strapped lawn chairs. The sun energized the town for a few hours between storms, as the summer dawdled on. Respect for the season stirred within everyone. We slowed down without the asylum of cooled air. During the week, refrigerated by the machines, we performed our tasks indoors. The sun coaxed us to go outdoors. We stared at the illuminated grass and palms, and longed to be free from walls. But soon after we left for the weekend to roam or play, heat and scalding sand or pavement would win. So, we played near water to refresh ourselves. We browned our skin, almost totally unclothed. Being close to the sun and water justified our wearing minimum clothing.
Their talk centered on this. Each body that came before Mike and Scott was scenery for them. Every person had responsibility for their physical parts, which the guys scrutinized using the most recent criteria, like common material under scientific study. Shaded glasses hid their observations and eliminated that terrible moment when their view was discovered.
We fulfilled our purposes for being there: to let the water cool us, to color our skin, to see beautiful women, to rest from the repetition of the five workdays, and to live our free days performing an acceptable activity. I mused: What if the dead watched from some vantage point? To them, we displayed the ancient sins of vanity, lust, and sloth. The dead either pitied us living men for the condemnation we faced, or they envied us for being allowed these pleasures by our Judge.
Warm breezes tinged with coconut oils and chlorine whispered around us. Palm trees rustled in the gusts and waved their fronds in the relaxed motion that captured the heart of the peninsula and its people. Girls stretched out, almost every hairless pore illuminated by the sunlight and exposed to the sight of others. Beer fatigued the men and enhanced their ability to amuse the ladies.
“Hey Hannah,” Mike said as he smoothed a dab of lotion on his shoulder. “I bought extra tickets to the Xtreme Summer Music Fest. You wanna buy one? It’s in three weeks.”
“Maybe. I’ll let you know. Who’s playing?”
“The High Priests. Putrid. The Wrath Grapes. Onyx Box. Three or four others.”
Later, while we talked with a departing, red-haired, red-skinned girl about policemen and cars, Kevin arrived, fully clothed with sunglasses. He sat down next to us as we watched the girl leave.
“She’s a Monet: Nice from afar, but up close, a bit chubby in the thighs,” Mike said. “’Sup, Kevin? Haven’t seen you lately. You been sick?”
“Yeah. Had this upper respiratory thing.” He hacked a dry cough.
“Get your suit on. The sun’s awesome.”
“Nah. Just came down to pay my rent at the office. I’m behind.” He stared at us with no expression on his face.
“Over a week late?”
“I didn’t see you at Semansky’s party last night,” Scott said. “Did you stop by?”
“Nah. Still have a fever from the infection.” Another hack. “How’s it going at work?”
“Not bad, for me,” Mike said. “I’ve been working my butt off. Still on overtime. Great money. I’m not concerned about the layoff. Hannah’s department is gonna be hit hard by it, so he’s worried.”
“Can’t do much about it,” I said. “They need to fire some people. We’re not making any money right now. Of course, it won’t help us sell Magic Theater if we don’t have any marketers.”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if I got the ax,” Kevin said. His hair was pasted to his head.
“It’s a good thing none of us have families,” Mike said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Being fired would really suck.”
“Not if we don’t get married and have kids,” Scott said. “I’m having a good time now. It’ll never be a priority for me.”
“It’s a big jump in responsibility.”
“Imagine,” Mike said. “At my age, my dad had a three-year-old. I can’t see being in that situation.”
“Kevin, weren’t you gonna marry Winnie?” I asked.
“Um, we looked at rings once. We broke up. Not compatible anymore. Haven’t seen her in a couple months.”
“Really?”
“I can see that,” Mike said. “She was a babe. Huge hooters. But she always wanted to talk things through and discuss feelings, right? You wasted a lot of time.”
“Neither of us thought seriously about getting married,” Kevin said.
“After we talked, seemed too monumental. Too permanent. I’m definitely not ready.”
“How will we know when it’s time?” I asked.
“Dude, do we ever need to?” Scott asked.
“No way,” Mike said. “It’s a free country. If Gina tries to pressure me, I’ll leave her. Why be stuck with someone? Look at all the babes here. Oh man, look at that one.”
Another subject sauntered before our sunglasses. Two small patches and threads covered her chest. Her backside was almost completely bare.
“Choice.”
“Got any water?” Kevin asked.
“Just cervezas,” Scott said. “Have one, dude.”
“Better not,” Kevin said. “Too many headaches lately.”
“Dude, did you see that one?” Scott asked as Kevin looked toward the apartment buildings. “There is no doubt: It’s crazy to get married and have kids.”
“I’m having too much fun to spoil it,” Mike said as he pulled off his shades. “I think of this video I rented a couple weeks ago. This guy dies in a car wreck. He leaves two babies, a wife, and a mortgage. He never enjoyed life again like he did before he was married. It’s scary if you think about it.”
“Why think about it?” Kevin exclaimed with a burst of laughter.
“Why?” That any emotion at all came from this automaton surprised me.
“What happened in the end?” I asked.
“I don’t know. It got depressing, so I turned it off. I hate movies that deal with death.”
“Why see a movie to be depressed?” Scott asked. “You pay for them. They should entertain you. If not, it’s like reading a book.”
Kevin chuckled.
“Yeah, books are not worth the time,” Mike said. “Too long to finish. I’ve got too many fun things to do. More and more to play with.”
“Movies like that make you wonder what you’d leave behind,” I said.
“Time is running out.”
“Ooo, you’re philosophical,” Scott said.
“I’d rather not think about it,” Mike said. “It ruins things. I prefer to sailboard.”
“Have you gone lately?” Scott asked.
“Only a couple times so far this month. The wind’s been awesome. You need to time it just right. Knowing where the winds are is a science.”
I was relieved when Mike paused for a few minutes. My skin kept absorbing the sunlight, as if to replace the sweat it expelled.
“Then we have Hannah here,” Mike said. “His hobby is Lana Schon.”
“A worthy pastime,” Scott said.
“We haven’t been doing well lately. We have fun together, but she gets on my nerves.”
“Have you two been doing it?” Mike asked.
“You know the answer to that. You only want to hear me say it.”
“You did her?” Scott asked. “What’s it like? I know guys who’ve spent years going to lunch with her and asking her out. Good-looking guys. They all failed. I heard she likes older dudes.”
“Jonathan’s a legend at our old school,” Mike said.
“She’s been seeing others,” I said.
“She was all over some black guy last night at Santiago’s,” Scott said.
“He looked like he just stepped out of a cologne ad.”
I winced as Mike remarked about race-mixing in sex.
“Lana and I meet up every now and then,” I interrupted. “But they’re not real dates. I actually don’t want to call her. I think she’ll break it off. We’re going nowhere.”
“Where’d you want it to go?” Mike asked. “Marriage? I doubt it. Sex? It sounds as if you have that.”
“Had,” Scott said.
“I’m starting to dislike her. She wants me to act a certain way, and then we argue.”
“For every hot babe, there’s a guy somewhere whose life she’s made a living hell,” Mike said.
“Dude, I’d be whatever she wants,” Scott said. “Hey, check her out.”
Their heads turned to a tall, tawny-skinned brunette who entered with her muscular boyfriend. “She looks a bit taken.”
“Check out that over there,” Mike said. “Cool.” A teenager in the grassy yard across the parking lot maneuvered a large ring that formed soap bubbles.
He made bubble after bubble about the size of a human head. They floated upward, shifted direction as the wind changed, and burst.
“That looks cool,” Scott said.
“Let’s go check it out,” Mike said.
Mike and Scott climbed out of their chairs, which slashed white stripes across their backs like prison uniforms. They clanged the gate and left the pool area. Kevin and I stayed next to the blue water and displays of semi-nudity. Then Kevin stood, still eyeing the buildings across the pond.
“Kevin, you should get your suit on. The sun’d do you good. You look too pale.”
“Nah. In the middle of a game back at home. I paused it ‘cause my head was hurting too much.”
“Which game?”
“Um, one of the Phase 3’s. Maybe you’ve heard of it in the meetings. It’s called Plague Manhunt or something like that. Very intense. Should sell good. I need to go. Stayed out longer than I should.” He eased himself away.
“But it’s gorgeous out here. Stay and have a beer. Tell me more about you and Winnie. You need to rebound from her.”
“Not feeling well,” Kevin said over his shoulder. “Some flu thing. See you later, Hannah.”
He steadied himself and stepped past a sunbather, then stopped.
“Hannah, don’t ever tell anyone about this.”
“About what? Our deal? No way. You sure you’re okay, Kevin?”
His dark glasses glinted at me. “I don’t always make it.” He turned.
“They’re very intense.” He shuffled over to the gate and pushed through it.
That night I rang Lana’s phone, but no one answered. I wrote and wrote until the full moon rose over my parking lot.
What could I do about Kevin? Was it Magic Theater that drained my co-conspirator’s mind? Mike was right: Kevin had missed work. He had skipped three weeks in a row.
But let Olson worry about impeding Magic Theater. He’s supposed to have the ear of the powerful. He knows the principles that can explain the misgivings of the moralists.
Earlier that week, I had telephoned the developers in the north. “I was needing some more information on your latest games. I faxed you a list yesterday. Did you get it?”
“Yeah, were those suggestions for new ones?” the programmer asked.
“No, these were actual games I reviewed under my Phase 3 access. I had no information on them.”
“You played them?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“That couldn’t be. I’ve never heard of them. I perform all final code checks on all games before we release them onto the server. I definitely would’ve noticed them. ‘Alexandrine Conquest.’ They were interesting ideas, though. Is this some Marketing Department trick to get us to develop what you want? I don’t understand why he’d do it, but it seems like a Perry Farrell stunt.”
“No, no. No tricks. I assume those games aren’t on the server anymore.”
“Maybe they were experimental. I’ll tell our chief software engineer to give you a call.”
The call never came. I did not know who this chief software engineer was, nor did any of the half-dozen people I asked at the tower. Olson avoided answering me.
With my zeal for retaining my career, that week I finished the marketing strategy document, as Bender had directed months ago. I handed copies to Farrell and Olson for their review. First, to Olson:
“This looks good, Jonathan. I need to review it before we send it to the rest of the department. In the meantime, we have the final report from the market research study that’s just come in from our field guys. We had tested 20-25 Phase 2 subscription games in the Dakota area. A lot of the data may not have been gathered well. You could follow this up and firm up the data. Then present your interpretation of it in light of our marketing plan.”
Marketing plan? Next, to Farrell:
“This looks good, Hannah. I need to review it before we send it to the rest of the department. The next thing you can do is to go over the research study that’s just come in, from our field guys. We need a marketing interpretation, since those field guys don’t know jack about what will sell. You’ll present your reading of it and how it revises the Magic Theater marketing plan. We’ll set up a meeting with some of the higher-ups soon. That’ll get you some visibility.”
“We do have a marketing plan?”
“Yeah, it came out last week. Did you get a copy?”
“No, but I just now handed mine to you, remember? Bender told me to write it almost two months ago.”
“Oh. Well, that happens sometimes. Percival downstairs had been dragging his feet on getting us one, and I wasn’t expecting anything from him. He’s a smart guy, but he gets swamped. He did a good job. It better be good, for six months’ work. I’m sure you can add a different insight to it. Maybe you can get him to make some changes.”
Next week: Episode 15 - The Stormy Tournament: Golfing with the Executives
Copyright © 2022 Christopher Rogers.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual events or localities or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.