Novel Treatments / Virtual Heaven, chunk one

Chapter One:                June, 7th, 4:43p.m. Friday 2008        

        Alex Cutler’s dark eyes were focused on a thin monitor; black hair hung to his chin along the sides of his face. His tall frame gently rocked back and forth as his lean fingers attacked the keyboard. His office was average in size, offering a fifth-floor view of neighboring parking lots and surrounding buildings in downtown Chicago, and bare of everything except a pair of padded chrome chairs and an all-glass desk. A box set to the side contained the items that used to decorate the office. Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.                                                                               A bald slightly heavy-set man wearing a black suit that was too tight walked in, smiling. “So today’s the big day?” the man asked.
        “One . . . second . . . Sean . . .” Alex’s eyes never left the monitor, his lightning-fast typing seemed to increase.
        Sean plopped down in a one of the chairs and grabbed a magnetic knickknack from the desk.
        “. . . Aaannnnd there,” Alex said. A few final clicks followed by some beeps, and he shut down his computer for the last time as a Vision Tech employee.  He looked up at Sean and then gathered the few things left in the drawers and placed them in the box on the floor; he paused to look at a copy of Computer Vision. Alex was on the cover. He was a few years younger and a poster boy for geeks around the world, with a studious haircut and wearing a white button up shirt complete with a white Vision Tech pocket protector- a thoughtless last second addition from his employer. He threw the magazine inside the box. “You can keep that.” Alex nodded toward the knickknack of two small metal men sitting on opposite ends of a see-saw that Sean was holding. It had always reminded Alex of the days when he was a young kid and his brother, who was eleven years his senior, would spend time with him in front of their run down apartment complex. He would discuss his current girlfriend or his goals and views in life while Alex laughed exuberantly each time he was lifted into the air. Simon was now many years in the grave, and the knickknack usually just fueled any negative emotions that harbored deep in his mind. “Something to remember me by if I’m never seen again.”                                                                
        “Sweet. Now if you save the world or something crazy, I can auction it off on eBay for a couple mil.”  He looked over the metallic object a moment; his face glowed as if it had already grown in value, and then looked back to Alex. “So, you learn anything else about your new job?”
        Alex made a face as he remembered the last few hours. He had spoken with many people at his going-away party earlier that afternoon; he had turned his phone off before lunch due to the onslaught of farewell calls. “I got an email giving me flight instructions and what-not a few hours ago.”
        “Well?” Sean asked. “Or is that confidential as well?”                                                        
        “There wasn’t anything saying it was confidential.” He threw a handful of pens from his desk into the box, and then closed the lid; taped it shut; and sat down. “My flight leaves tomorrow at eleven in the morning. I arrive in Billings, Montana, three hours later. Then I go to a gate, meet one of their representatives, and take a private jet to who knows where.” He shrugged and laughed a little at the entire situation. “They brought me floor plans and photos of the condos they house their employees in. Don’t repeat this to anyone, but I’d work a hundred hours a week just to live in one of those bad boys, maybe throw me some bread and cheese once in a while so I could stay alive.”                                                                           “Man. This must be exciting for you; you’re gonna for sure be doing some CIA, James Bond-type stuff.” Sean leaned forward and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I bet you’ll be working with aliens. Like at Area fifty-one.” He glanced out the windows then back to the open office door and then back to Alex. “Programming spaceships and whatnot.”                                                                           Alex laughed. “All I know is whatever it is; it’s insanely classified. And I haven’t been given any details or real info yet.”
        “Just promise me, dude, if you work on a space program that resembles a Noah’s Ark-type deal or something, you’ll fight tooth and nail to get me in.”
        “Yeah, I promise, although they did make me sign a lifetime confidentiality agreement preventing me from ever speaking about my work or any aspect of the interview process.” He looked up at Sean. A smile crept across his face as he stood up from his chair and picked up the box with his belongings. “And my salary and benefits package, bro, I’m afraid that’s confidential as well.”
        “Screw you.” Sean laughed. “You better be nice to me today. You know it’s not too late for me to pick up a phone and get my resume to whatever company they are.” Sean pointed his finger as if dialing a phone.  “And you know if the person who reads my resume and then compares it to yours is drunk, and high on at least two major street drugs, he will for sure hire me over you.”
        They both got a good laugh out of this, and then walked out of the office together. Sean shook Alex’s hand for the last time once outside the office door. “Look at me, Alex. I’m serious. The Noah’s Ark thing, you get me in.” He waited for Alex to nod his head and then trotted contentedly down the hallway.
        Alex followed Sean toward the exit, pausing at many partitions to receive everyone’s final goodbyes and accept their best wishes.
        At the end of the hallway, an older man in a well-tailored black suit stood waiting. The way a few employees stood behind him made it clear he was the boss. The man stuck out his hand as Alex neared him.  “Alex, we are going to miss you here at Vision Tech. We all wish you the best of luck with your new job, and if for any reason things don’t work out, or if you discover you’re working for Al-Quaeda, you always have a home back here with Vision Tech.” He motioned to the employees around him.
        “Thank you, Stewart. I always have enjoyed working for you, and if it’s Al-Quaeda I’m working for, I’ll be sure to give them a wicked virus before coming back.”
  

        Logan International Airport in Billings, Montana, was small compared to O’Hare and much easier to navigate. The airport’s emptiness had a bus station feel. Bright orange plastic chairs were lined in long rows. Most of the chairs were empty; a few cowboys were wearing jeans so tight that Alex was concerned for their ability to pro-create occupied them.
        The gate specified by Alex’s new employer was at the very end of a hall in what felt like an unused section of the airport. There were no large windows here, only painted cement walls, giving the area a dull gloomy feel. The chairs here were cushioned and gray with a logo, painted on the backrest in black: the letters B and G tiled diagonally atop one another. As he approached the gate, he spotted a man standing by the lone reception desk. The man was dressed in all black, complete with matching hair, gloves, hat, and sunglasses. A woman with her back facing him chatted on a thin cell phone a few yards to the man’s right.
        “Mr. Alex Cutler?” the man asked.
        “That’s me.” He set down his carry-on and reached out to greet the man. A woman’s thin hand darted in from his side and shook Alex’s outstretched one.
        “Brea Lynard. Personnel director for Broumgard. It’s very nice to finally meet you face-to-face. I hope your flight went well.”
        “It went good . . . and, yes . . . nice to meet you as well.” He didn’t know how could he have overlooked this woman. She was a perfect blend of sexy New York art dealer mixed with a fit yoga instructor. She had thick red hair tied behind her head. She wore a designer gray skirt business suit. To say she was beautiful would be like saying dolphins could swim. Instinctively, Alex looked. No wedding ring.
        The movement of the man in black reaching down to pick up Alex’s carry-on snapped him out of his dreamlike state.  “Thank you,” Alex said.
        The “valet” continued as if he did not hear his courtesy. Alex thought the man even snorted under his breath.
        “We are scheduled to take off in twenty-five minutes.” She looked down at her expensive watch. “Better if we talk while we walk,” Brea said and walked toward the door with a big glowing EXIT sign above it.
        The man in black was already there and opened the EXIT door with his back, letting in the bright sunlight and the noise of the runway. Alex shaded his eyes as he stepped outside.
        Parked directly in front was an jet unlike any he had ever seen.
        Long ad slender. The smooth paint job of the gray jet with tinted windows appeared to absorb the sunlight rather than reflect it, and the massive black windows made him feel like something was being hidden behind them.
        “IT’S A ONE OF A KIND.” Brea yelled to be heard over the noise.
        Alex nodded, unable to take his eyes off the craft, as he followed her to the set of stairs on the side of the jet. A cheerful flight attendant waited at the bottom. As he walked by she greeted him with a warm smile and a common, welcome aboard.
        Once inside, Alex saw the true originality of the craft. The walls were a glossy cherrywood; the floor was covered in a short blond-colored comfy carpet. Love seats and recliners upholstered in soft, thick, cream colored leather replaced what would be normal rows of seating. A massive LCD screen was mounted opposite a wooden wall that hid the rear two-thirds of the jet.
        “Alex, I’m going to need you to come to the back of the jet for one final security check before we take off,” Brea said
        A camouflaged door in a section of the wooden dividing wall slid open as they neared.
        “I did just go through two major airport security checks, you know,” Alex said nervously, with a half smile.
        Behind the dividing wall, the bottom two-thirds of the craft looked like a office used by most large corporations. A large wooden table sat in the center. The chairs surrounding the table where thick and cushioned like you might find in the first class section of any commercial flight and they were all facing the front of the craft. Alex noticed seatbelts resting on the cushions. The large windows on either side were tinted black even on this side, removing the view of the airport, and for a moment, Alex forgot why he had so quickly agreed to this job. A man stood at the back of the jet waiting for them. He wore a gray and black police uniform. He was built like a middleweight fighter, slender and strong. “Good afternoon,” the man said. “Alex James Cutler?” Alex nodded as he entered the small room. The walls were lined with deep red-cherry paneling, a green laser line slowly scanned the room back and forth, its long thin bar steadily creeping the length of the ceiling. A single chair and a small table with a machine that looked like a beefed-up polygraph were the only things in the room. “Take a seat please. You may call me Joe.”
        Alex sat down. Joe attached a wire to the top of Alex’s hand, and one directly on his throat. The sticky white pads were cold and damp from a gel and he could feel a small pulse running through them.
        Joe closed the thick red padded door behind him. Alex felt a little claustrophobic as the light and space of the jet was removed. “I’m going to say a word, Mr. Cutler. You respond immediately with the first word that pops into your head.” The man’s demeanor was polite and threatening at the same time.
        “Okay.” Alex took a deep breath.
        “What year was William Stafford the third born?” Joe said.
        “Who?” Alex answered immediately.
        “How many ice-cube dividers are there in an ice-cube tray?”
        Alex laughed nervously, “I don’t know . . . sixteen?”
        “What color shirt did you wear two Tuesday’s previous?”
        After a few minutes of these odd questions, Joe removed the pads from Alex’s neck and hand, and then walked out of the room without saying a word, leaving Alex to sit alone in the hot, dim, red room.
        One knock sounded on the door before it opened, and Brea poked her head in. She gave Alex an encouraging smile. “We’re all done here, you can come up front now.”
        Relieved, Alex stood and followed her, wiping a small bead of sweat from his brow. He spotted Joe buckled in one of the chairs around the meeting table, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.
        The female flight attendant stood at the camouflaged door, projecting what felt like a insincere smile as she politely directed Alex and Brea to a pair of the overstuffed leather chairs next to the large windows in the front section, which had since become transparent. “Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened until the captain turns off the seatbelt sign and notifies us that we have reached a safe cruising altitude.”
        “It is a forty-five-minute flight,” Brea  said, removing a magazine from the cloth pouch in front of her.
        “This is your captain speaking. We have a lovely day for flying. Temperatures are . . .”
        The plane began rolling forward. Alex gripped the armrests as tightly as possible during takeoff while attempting to draw minimal attention to his mild fear of flying.
        Brea looked at Alex’s hands and said comfortingly, “The facility we are going to is named Eridu, after what many historians believe to be the first civilized city. Once clients arrive, we treat them to the finest amenities this planet has to offer.”
        He smiled challengingly at her. “And what is it, besides good meals and fine dancing, that we offer to our clients?”
        “I am sorry, Alex.” She placed her hand on his. “There is a standard briefing protocol that must be followed to the letter. Broumgard Group deals with private sector clientèle, the powerful elites from all around the globe.” She opened the issue of Fortune 500 and flipped to a marked page half way in.
        The engines roared to their full capacity, and the jet rocketed down the runway without so much as a bump. Alex pressed his back against the seat and clenched the armrests with all his might. A few minutes later, the jet leveled off, and he gradually loosened his grip. The captain chirped over the microphone and reported that they had reached a safe cruising altitude.
        Brea kept her focus in her magazine for another ten minutes. Alex watched patiently, waiting for an opportunity to pry some more information from her. When she finished the article she unbuckled her seatbelt, and then scooted past Alex. “Follow me.” She walked over to the large couch in front of the massive in-wall monitor and sat down. “Please, have a seat,” she said and patted the cushion next to her and then reached over and pressed a camouflaged button on the arm end of the couch. A small section of flooring in front of them opened up, moved, shifted, and lifted; turning until it provided a smooth stable white coffee table. Brea retrieved a small disk from a side pouch on the couch and inserted it into the front of the new coffee table. As the receiver read the disk, the lights in the room dimmed, and the massive jet windows re-tinted themselves black. Brea leaned back and crossed her firm tanned legs. “This is a video Broumgard Group put together last year after implementing a new security system.” The video began to play. “Broumgard Group has one-upped everyone in the world in implementing this unique, in-house-designed security environment. This video will explain how one particular portion of our security system operates.”
        Security environment. This phrase made Alex a little uncomfortable. Now in flight and on his way, he was beyond the point of no return and he knew he would have to remain “on site” until declassified, even if he decided not to accept his new job, after discovering what exactly they would have him working on.

        The Broumgard Group logo panned across the screen in front of him as the narration began. “Broumgard Group is an elite corporation with no peers in any of the multitudes of advanced industries it works in. Goal one at Broumgard Group is maintaining that claim of superiority.” The screen shuffled PowerPoint slide shots of various individuals working in front of computer monitors. “In a very close second is goal number two: Security. State-of-the-art security software and training allow Broumgard Group to keep its classified secrets safe.”
        The screen turned from slide show to video showing computer techies, doctors, architects, and construction workers all involved in their related fields. The monitor showed security officers racing down desert roads in gray Hummers, a wake of dust followed behind them.
        “. . . All the basic and advanced intelligence and counterintelligence methods used by major government facilities around the world are utilized at the Eridu facility. Although, at this time, Broumgard Group has no government affiliation.” The narrator paused a moment, and then continued.  “Broumgard is proud of its unique security system, IHMOS, a cutting edge lower-level atmospheric satellite. This satellite helps create a link between all occupants of the Eridu facility and the security personnel. Upon arrival at Eridu . . .”
        The screen showed passengers in Keffiyahs and Sheik robes stepping from a large luxury helicopter. The men were then guided by a security officer to illuminated circles on the ground.
        “. . . Employees and guests alike stand in a designated area, pausing for a brief moment while their heat signatures and personal identification are registered. An individual’s heart rate and body temperature can now be monitored so as to prevent any information leaks or accidental ventures into restricted areas.” The narrator allowed another brief pause before continuing. “A specific security clearance is given to each and every individual’s heat source that arrives at Eridu.”
        The video morphed into an animated overhead view of a 3-D model of a man walking down a corridor approaching a doorway. Shockwave symbols pulsated from the 3-D figure.
        “. . . Depending on a person’s security level, doors will automatically unlock and open when he or she approaches . . .”
        The screen showed the door unlocking and opening as the shockwaves surrounding the 3-D model made contact with it.
        “. . . If a person does not have the proper security level as he or she approaches a door or a restricted area . . .”
        The corridor scenario started over. The same 3-D model with the shockwaves approached the door.
        “. . . Security will be notified, and an alarm may be triggered. If this happens, please stay where you are and await assistance . . .”
        After realizing he had come too close to a restricted door, the 3-D model calmly sat Indian-style on the floor and placed his stick figure arms atop his head.
        “. . . Our exclusive heat tracing technology allows Broumgard’s security staff to know the physical locations of all individuals along with their approximate elevations . . .”
        On the screen the same 3-D figure walked through the door, which led him outside the building. The camera panned out one distant frame, revealing dozens of other human heat signatures throughout the building. Still centered on the 3-D model, the camera pulled back even further, revealing a few buildings and adding hundreds more heat signatures varying in colors.
        “The color yellow is assigned to Broumgard Group employees on the ground level. A blue signature is for clients on the ground level. The higher the elevation of an individual, the lighter the color will become.”
        The screen displayed an animated model of Eridu. Many buildings on the left side of the city were highlighted in red and pulsating.
        “ . . . The outer sector of Eridu is reserved for residential housing. The tall structure in the center is our five-star hotel, La Bercé . Inside La Bercé you will find a full shopping mall and . . .”                                                                                 The monitor highlighted in orange a building that was twice as tall as any other building on the property. The video returned to a high-definition picture and took viewers on a virtual tour of the inside of the luxury hotel, shopping plazas, art galleries, and a variety of dining options were set into the outer walls of the bottom five floors.                          
        “ . . . And finally our main headquarters. A level two security clearance is required of any individual visiting the main headquarters known as the ‘Atrium.’ Over one hundred thousand square feet make up the Atrium, which is . . .”
        The front of the Atrium was a solid sheet of blue mirrored glass; a large cylindrical tower twice as high as the rest of the building jutted near the center. The word Broumgard was tiled in large chrome letters vertically down the center of the tower. An immense vehicle-less concrete parking lot rested in front; a monorail ran the distance of the parking lot and butted up against the far side. The camera encircled the building as the video faded to its end, with a sunset scene in the background.

        The lights in the room slowly returned to their normal luminosity. The large windows de-tinted themselves, revealing a cloudless bright blue sky.
        Alex remained with his back against the couch, his gaze still locked on the monitor, on which the Broumgard logo was currently bouncing around as a screensaver. 
        “You are going to do great things here,” Brea said. “Don’t forget you were the major designer of Glide Suite.”
        Thinking back over what it had taken to complete that program and remembering the satisfaction he felt every time, even to this day, when someone complimented him eased his gnawing tension a bit. Smiling, he looked at her. “It is a pretty useful program.”                                                                                                                                                           “And easy to use.” She stood. “Would you like something to drink?”
         “Sprite. If you got it.”                                                                                                                                                             Less than a minute passed and the smiling flight attendant entered without being instructed, carrying two glasses and handed Brea what looked like a V-8, but could have been a bloody mary- and then handed Alex his Sprite. The two sat in silence; Brea gave her attention to a small PDA (the nicest one Alex had ever seen), and Alex sat lost in thought, considering why he had never seen such a up-to-date PDA. But one look around at the plush surroundings of his current environment and he figured there may be a few things Broumgard used that he hadn’t read about in the vocational magazines. He knew as young as age eight he was on this planet for a reason- or at least he thought he did- and something inside him believed he was soon to discover what it was.
        When he was a kid he assumed he was here to be a famous cartoonist, but after a few months he knew it couldn’t be true. He had a hard time drawing a perfect circle- even with the aid of a compass. He would poorly draw pictures of a happy family of four; even though he never knew his father and it was a subject that was shunned or quickly averted whenever brought up. And his mother was too self indulged and self medicated to discuss anything beyond what she needed one of her boys to do for her, although in her defense she did give the very rare “that’s nice” or “really?”, her best attempt at encouragement. But his brother, knew as clearly as he did that Alex was special, and Simon was the biggest reason he made it out of the slums of south Chicago.                            
         “Ladies and gentlemen, at this time we would please ask you to return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We will be beginning our descent shortly, local time is 10:50 A.M. The temperature is a gorgeous seventy-seven degrees . . .”
        “You get a good view from up here.”  Brea motioned for Alex to take the window seat as they returned to their chairs.
        Alex clipped on his belt and stared out the window as the plane descended. Open plains below and snow-tipped mountains surrounded the compound. He noticed what must be the hotel, La Bercé, towering near the center. In the distance a luxury helicopter descended into what appeared to be a small airport ahead of the jet. The realization he was high up in the air hit him, and he eased back in his chair; gripped his armrest; closed his eyes, and thought a series of small prayers in his mind, something he had not done in many, many years.

        The jet jolted as the tires made contact with the runway. The whooshing of the wings lifting to slow the air flow and the squeaking of the brakes as they touched ground told Alex the ride was almost all over.
        “We’re here,” Brea said, as the plane adjusted to a normal pace.
        Alex released his grip on the armrests, allowing the color to return to his fingers. He saw two gray Hummers racing along the steamy asphalt runway toward the jet, and then the large windows smoked over and tinted themselves black again. He went to ask Brea about them, but she was poking away at her PDA. When the plane came to a final stop, the seatbelt sign dinged off, and the two stood up from their seats.
        “Right this way, please,” the airplane attendant said, motioning them toward the exit.  The warm sunlight flooded in as the door opened.
        “Just follow me and follow the instruction of the security personnel,” Brea said over her shoulder.
        The bright sun forced Alex to shade his eyes again as he followed Brea down the stairs. Two security officers in the familiar gray police-like uniforms stood on the asphalt to either side at the bottom. Between them and the Hummers, two large circles illuminated a green glow on the asphalt. As Brea reached the first security officer, he politely guided her to one of the circles, where they chatted as if they were old friends.
        “This way, sir,” the second security officer said, motioning Alex to come down. Alex cautiously descended, looking over at Brea, who remained talking to the security officer next to her. It seemed that she had forgotten that Alex had come with her and was a few feet away fighting off his nerves. 
        “Sir, if you would please,.” The security officer gently grabbed Alex by the arm and guided him in the center of the other illuminated circle. Then he stepped back and rifled through a large pouch that hung around his chest.
        Alex looked over to Brea once again; she stood waiting for him to look in her direction, and once he did, she gave him a big encouraging smile, accompanied by an energetic thumbs-up. He returned a nervous twitch of a smile.
        “Lift up your right hand, sir, and place it here for me.” The second security officer extended a thin LCD screen with a handprint etched into it. The screen came to life as Alex’s hand made contact. Lights scanned vertically and horizontally and then beeped. The security officer drew the pad away and returned it to his pouch and then retrieved what looked like a set of night-vision goggles attached to the end of a small pole. “Look straight ahead, please.” The officer held the goggles up to Alex’s face. “Focus on the red light, if you would.” A small red light in the device swelled and shrunk, blinked in a few patterns, and then the officer removed it and placed it back into his pouch. He then retrieved another small handheld box shaped device with an indent at the top. “Right thumb here, please. There will be a very small prick.”
        Alex placed his thumb on the indent at the top of the device.                                                                             A needle rose, pricked, and then instantly withdrew into the base. The officer looked at the device, replaced its cap, and put it away. “Almost done. Just remain standing where you are,” the officer said as he took a few step backwards.                                                                          Alex closed his eyes and braced for what was to come.
        “You ready?”
        Alex opened his eyes. Brea stood in front of him.
        He looked at her, confused. “We done here?”
        “Yeah, let’s go, I’m excited to show you your new home,” Brea said as she motioned for Alex to follow, “the car’s this way.” A brand-new black BMW 745il accompanied with black tinted windows sat with the engine running. A driver dressed in the same black attire as the valet at the airport stared straight ahead from behind the steering wheel. Alex couldn’t be certain whether it was the same man.  Once the doors shut, the driver accelerated away.
        La Bercé loomed ahead, its sheer glass face towering up high into the sky. The building was shaped as if one gigantic glass sheet had been rolled up in a cone and then turned upside down. The BMW took a silent left turn at the first intersection heading away from the impressive hotel.
        “These buildings back here are all residential housing; these first two house our security officers,” Brea said,  pointing out the buildings as she spoke. “Everyone else is split up in the remaining four buildings.” The roads were narrow, and the buildings tight together. Each building was distinguished by its individual brick or stone color, but the outside was designed identical to its neighbor. Long stone balconies jutted out from the upper levels.
        “So, how many people have decided not to work here after finding out what it is you guys do here?” Alex asked.
        Brea thought for a moment, a look of intense consideration on her face, “Many residents will never know what they are working on or what we offer our clients; and we have never had anyone voluntarily leave our employment.” With that, she turned and stared back out the window. A few moments later, the car slowed. “Here we are. Building three.”
        The BMW turned into a parking lot in front of a large white stone building. A few men in casual clothing stood around a chrome grill set on the edge of the parking lot (which was bare of any vehicles, as were all the parking lots Alex had seen) drinking iced teas. Behind them two women sat at a picnic table casually talking.
        The car came to a stop. The driver didn’t move. He continued staring out the windshield, his hands glued at two and ten on the steering wheel.
        The guys around the grill waved as if conjoined twins at Alex as he glanced at them. He returned the wave, which seemed to allow them to look back down at the grill and continue their conversations.
        “Your belongings from your old apartment in Chicago are already inside,” Brea informed him. “Your bags from the flight should be here in an hour or less.” They entered the glass double doors at the base of the stone building. A thick gray Three above the main entrance.
        “The main floor in each building is for recreation. We offer an indoor pool, extensive exercise facility, sauna, steam rooms, and a daycare, if ever needed. You may obtain a full list of the amenities offered, as well as contact information and job titles of all your neighbors through Victor.”
        Inside, dark Berber carpet covered the floor. The walls were concrete and bare. The hallway continued past the elevators and offered a few different paths. They approached the elevator doors.
        “Nervous?” Brea asked as the elevator doors dinged open.
        He hardly heard her. Inside, his mind was racing a million miles a minute. “ . . . Nah.”
        “Floors two through four house twelve condos per floor. The fifth level, named the tower suites, houses four condos. The sixth floor is our penthouse level. Just two condos up there sharing two levels of space.” She pressed the button labeled PH.
        The elevator climbed past the fourth floor, and continued past the fifth, opening on the penthouse level. The hallway here shared no resemblance with the hallway on the main level. The Berber carpet was replaced by large glossy pearl-colored tiles; the concrete walls were textured and decorated with abstract paintings. A small set of stairs at both ends led to a set of hand-carved double doors. A slowly rotating globe the size of an elephant was positioned directly in front of the elevator as you exited. The masses of water on the globe were set in clear crystal with a hollow center, allowing you to occasionally see through to the other side. The land masses seemed to be divided by countries, each set in a highly polished stone, or gem. America was set in a smooth and pleasing to touch olive colored granite. South Africa glittered with a diamond encrusted surface(maybe zirconium, but using deduction he assumed it was set in all real jewels) and near China, Myanmar’s surface shined red from its Ruby coating.
        Brea allowed Alex to take in the details. “Dr. Brad Daniels shares the floor with you, so making appointments shouldn’t be too difficult.” She pointed toward the left end of the hall.
        She walked the other way and stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to the set of double doors.
        “Over here, Alex,” Brea said. “This door will only unlock for you, once you get near.”
        Alex walked slowly toward Brea, examining each painting on the wall; as he got close, he heard the clank of the door as it unlocked.
        Inside was immense and airy. Big fans and odd-shaped paper-covered lights pebbled the high ceilings. A set of stairs leading to an upper level ran against the back wall. In front of him the hallway split and descended, allowing two paths to the enormous living room. The walls were decorated with Chicago Bulls posters, a few abstract paintings, and a photograph of Bob Marley─one of Alex’s idols. He glanced to his left and saw a fully decked-out stainless steel and granite kitchen. He walked down the stairs, inspecting his new home. As he neared the west wall, which was made of a solid pane of thick glass, he heard another clank as the slider doors unlocked at his approach. The sun was just beginning to reach its high point; a few cloud clusters decorated the blue sky. Drafts of warm summer air floated by, bringing the smell of barbecue from the cookout below. A colossal built-in-grill fully equipped with a sink and small granite countertop ran along the east edge wall and was almost camouflaged by its matching stone surface.
        He looked at Brea, who had been trailing him silently. “This is exactly how I would have designed this place.” He walked back inside and surveyed everything. “That grill, the Jordan jersey, the high ceilings. I love this place.”
        Brea stood inside a few feet from the slider. She shrugged as if he was telling her something she already knew. “I guess in all fairness you did have a lot to do with the design. From your interviews and background investigation, a basic personality profile was compiled and . . .” Brea waved her arms around, highlighting the condo’s features. “ . . .Violà.”
        “Like this!” Alex said, walking over to the east wall where a full-length saltwater aquarium was lit up from the inside.
        The aquarium ran a few dozen feet and swarmed with fish of all sizes, colors, and shapes. A small school followed Alex as he paced its length, examining the inhabitants.
        Alex began to speak when he was cut off by a third voice.
        RING RONG, came the old sounding doorbell
        “Dr. Brad Daniels at the door, sir,” said the voice, seemingly emitting from the wall.
        “Alex, meet Victor,” Brea said, gesturing in the direction of the voice. “He is your digital assistant. You may ask him to open the door for you.”
        Alex asked, a little confused, “Victor, can you let him in?”
        “Certainly, sir.” The voice pattern was what might be expected from a well postured British butler.
        Alex looked at a pile of cardboard boxes stacked against the wall near his kitchen.
        “I can have staff come over and help you unpack those if you need.” Brea said, observing his gaze.
        “I’ll be fine, unpacking will give me something to do this weekend. But thanks for the offer.”
        “HELLO!?” A man’s voice shouted from near the main door.
        “Down here, Dr. Daniels,” Brea said.
        “ . . . Ah, there you are.”
        A short man in his late forties in excellent physical condition, and with an equally healthy tan entered and shook Alex’s hand. “Very nice to meet you. Been quite a buzz in the high ups around here in anticipation of your arrival. I live across the hall there; name’s Brad Daniels.”
        “Alex Cutler. Nice to meet you.”
        “Boy, they sure worked this place over,” Dr. Daniels said, pacing around looking the condo over. “This is amazing. So much roomier in here now.” He thrust his shoulders as if working a kink out of his back. “Whoa! And I might need one of these, Ms. Lynard.” He walked over and bent to stare into the aquarium. “Let me know when you feed these, if you don’t mind. I’d love to watch the carnage.” He tapped on the tank, and then walked up to Alex, running his thumb along the inside of his own waistline, a grin crossed his face. “So, what do you think so far?”
        “It’s flat-out amazing,” Alex said.
        “Wait until you open your fridge,” Dr. Daniels laughed. “If you want, I can stop by in a few hours and help you operate that grill of yours out there.” He clapped his hands together. “Maybe answer some questions for you.” He quickly looked to Brea and spread his hands apart like a blackjack dealer ending a shift. “Answering within the security protocols, of course.”
        They smiled at each other as if they shared some inside secret.
        “No, I think that would be great. I’d like someone to talk to, and if they know me so well here, I’m sure I can offer you a beer or two out of that fridge of mine.”
        “Wonderful. Well I’m going to let you two get back to business. Just thought I’d stop in and say hello” He  shook Alex’s hand again. “Have Victor ring me when you’re ready, or you can do it the old-fashioned way and knock on my door. I’m gonna go over there and start thawing out some chicken. That is, assuming you like chicken.”
        “Yeah, chicken sounds good. If they know me that well, they will have some Sweet Baby Rays in my fridge.” Alex said.
        “Yep, and probably a few spare bottles in the cupboards. Nice seeing you again, Ms. Lynard.” He gave them each a wave and a smile and walked out.
        Brea approached Alex and pointed to the set of stairs at the end of the condo.
        “Those stairs lead to your master suite. The room below has some exercise equipment and a tanning bed. Next to it a bathroom.” Brea grabbed a semi-mesmerized Alex by the hand, and gave it a good shake. “Well, good luck. If you need anything, Victor can help you. Dr. Daniels is a pioneer here at Broumgard and a world-renowned neurosurgeon.” She poked Alex in the arm. “You’re lucky to have him as a neighbor, and I wouldn’t say that about everyone here.” She paused a moment and then smiled. “Welcome to your new home, Mr. Cutler.”
        Alex watched her turn and listened until he heard the door shut behind her and then walked over to his couch and sat down, placing his elbows on his knees and running his hands through his hair.
        “WOOO!” A joy-filled shout escaped him. He leaned back in his new couch (which was longer than his last living room) with a massive smile and looked up at his new ceiling. He focused on a light fixture hanging above and couldn’t help but wonder how that lightbulb got changed. This last thought made his smile increase, something he was doing a lot of today.

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