Virtual Eternity (the Serialized Novel) Episode 37 - The Chicago Gaming Trade Show Part Two

This is Episode 37 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 or at Amazon.

Or you can start reading at the Table of Contents: here

The Chicago Gaming Trade Show Part Two

The following day, the eagerness of the people continued. I rushed from customer to customer, prodded by flies, by questions, and by the invisible competition among us to win the favor of our light-blue-suited leader.

“He’s incredible,” Scott said. “I wish I could work for him.”

“He’s lead for the Midwest area, right?”

“Yeah. He led the customer study last summer.”

That morning, the utopian bearded man arrived at the Magic Theater area.

“We meet again. How are you?”

“Very well, very well,” he said. “This is it: the heaven on earth of the next millennium. Have you been spreading the word?”

“Of course. That’s my job.”

“They pay you to teach ‘The Parchment.’ That’s how it’ll work for all of us, soon.”

I hurried to place a demonstration unit on his head. The man spent the entire day experiencing the wonders of his new paradise: images from the cables. At 7:00, the doormen again shut off the draft of air and people. The utopian man remained in a corner with his head encased.

I typed in the commands to end his games. The man remained in the darkness of his helmet for several minutes, weeping.

“That was wonderful,” he said as I removed the helmet.

I explained how the system worked, but the man failed to comprehend. He frowned. He shook his head. After I told him how much a minimal system cost, tears again pooled in his eyes.

“I told you, I don’t have a job. I’ve spent the last several years simply finding the ‘Discernments.’ I have more to do?”

“As I said, to have this system, you’ll need—”

“I’d need to sell what little I have to come up with the money for this.”

He no longer looked intensely at me. He spoke to himself. “I’d need to return to my career.”

The man sniffed. He shuffled away, his head bent down.

“Hello, Mr. Hannah.” The leader of the Vincula troupe had stood behind me for several minutes. I turned with alarm to see him in his baby-blue suit.

“Hi, how are you?” The man’s name eluded me. He wore no name tag.

“I am glad to finally have the chance to speak to you,” the leader said. “You are the one who is supposed to deliver all this to the masses.” He waved his hand in a circle.

“I’m sure I’ll have help.”

“Oh my no!” His voice bounced off the rafters in the empty hall. “Do not belittle what your efforts have yielded us.” Then he whispered, “And will yield for us shortly.”

For several seconds he glared at me, then I looked away from his eyes, fearing I’d laugh at his light-blue suit. He smoothed his flat, shiny hair back. It gleamed under the dimming hall lights. He was thin. Angles and an intentional, groomed, sparse beard defined his toothy, Anglo face.

“What was your name again?” I asked.

Stunned by my disrespect, the man stepped back and placed his hand on his heart.

“I am Xavier Cambridge.” He shook his head, then smiled. “Dine with me, Jonathan. We will talk of your plans for The Shroud.”

“I don’t have any. The reason I’m here is to learn more about it.”

“Oh, and you will, sir.”

We went through the doors into the lake wind. We overlapped the front of our overcoats. After ducking into the taxi at the slushy curbside, Xavier mumbled the name of a restaurant, to which the car proceeded.

Xavier said little during our meal. We spoke of the service, the mixture of our gin and tonics, and the view, all of which were exquisite. The restaurant was on the fiftieth floor of a one hundred-story building. But the solemnity of this once-dynamic man worried me. He had changed in my presence. Had I bored him? Did it matter?

After eating, Xavier attempted to revive our dying conversation. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Hannah. Do I appear different to you?”

“You certainly are quieter than I expected.”

“Ah, you see, Mr. Hannah, this is more my true nature. You must not be alarmed.”

“Actually, I’m relieved.”

“What? You prefer a more solemn conversation? That is odd.”

“No, I was afraid you’d be shouting at the waiter to ‘serve us, conquer us, believe in yourself!’”

Xavier smiled. “I could, if you want.”

“No.”

“Ha, ha! You see, Mr. Hannah, I am an actor. I must step out of my true self at times in order to deliver this product. Surely you have had the same experience.”

“I think so. But I don’t enjoy it.”

“Oh, but it is extremely pleasing. Haven’t you ever wanted to be a movie actor? We can be as they are, and reap the rewards.”

“Movie actors reap many ladies. Do you?”

“I have, when I wanted, also reaped ladies,” Xavier said as he palmed his hair. “The rewards I speak of are in the ability to persuade people to do something they would not ordinarily do, and, as was said, ‘to charm the golden birds out of their pockets.’ Charm them into respect for you. Charm them not only into buying the product but into accepting the lifestyle.”

He shouted, “Convert them!”

Four tables of people turned to stare.

His voice lowered to a hush. “We do not prove the worth of this product to them. We do not convince them. We drive them into a frenzy. We overthrow them. We topple their previous concepts of what their needs are and what their life should be. Mr. Hannah, this is an incredible rush!” Again, his shouts triggered stares. “People will only believe those who gain their attention. People are otherwise capricious creatures. They are the only beings who recognize they are looking at a world that is not certain. Without certainty in what they perceive and think, they do not want to decide. But you, Jonathan, can make them say yes or no, and conform them. The emotion is magnificent. Have you felt it when you met someone whom your commercials affected?”

“Yes.” I lied. I swallowed a gulp of gin. “I also knew that rush from seducing girls.”

“Yes!” More stares met us. “Was it not a wonderful emotion? You conform them to your will. You drive them to a frenzy.”

“I used to think that’s what I enjoyed. Not only the girls, but the emotion I felt. You think my emotions stemmed from their ‘frenzy,’ as you say?”

“Absolutely,” Xavier said. “And why is it you use the past tense?”

“Because I love only one girl now. I no longer conform them to my will.” A waiter brought two more gin drinks. “In fact, she conforms me.”

“Jonathan, I doubt that. If so, you are missing the one delight in life. Have you missed this delight in your profession also? Have you been unable to feel it when you moved men and women to change their lives? Understand this: When you are directing people to your whim, when you are changing their reality, and you act outside your own character, you cannot see your true self. Thus, you must have faith in yourself and know that you can direct them without even being you. That is my motivation. When you drive them using the methods of an actor, your power only feels that much greater.”

“You act like a preacher.”

“No! No! This is different. Preachers use the threat of eternal hell. Using those fake threats of retribution from outside sources negates my ability to frenzy them. The only punishment I promise them is that I will be disappointed in them. If that overthrows them, I am omnipotent. The hell with which I threaten them is the absence of me. All the great leaders change their targets’ reality like that.”

“I see. Do you think that’s what motivates me to sell Magic Theater?”

“It should be,” Xavier said. “That is the talent of humans, and you should utilize it. This is also the answer to the fears that overwhelm you and everyone you know.”

“What fears?”

“The fears of being disregarded,” he said. His voice quivered. “Of not mattering, or being ignored. The fears of others succeeding in life over you. The fears of being humiliated and rejected. You cannot escape those fears if you live as you do now. But when you rise above others to be able to persuade and coax and enslave them to things they did not know they wanted, you will never feel that fear again.”

“Do you think that’s what motivates me to bed women?”

“Now you use the present tense. You forget too soon, Mr. Hannah.”

“Oh.”

“I implore you to discover that delight.” He rose and extended his hand. “It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Hannah. I am speaking with the Board later this week. I plan to recommend you for the Executive Preparation Course beginning March 11, in Hawaii, right after this trade

show.”

“Hawaii?”

“Mr. Hannah, it is a three-month intensive symposium. We require that all those who expect to be vice-presidents attend. And one must complete it before age twenty-five. I will plead your case.”

“That’s two weeks away.”

Xavier still stood over me, glaring. He paused to dramatize his answer.

“Of course. We use the research from this trade show to help us train and plan. And do you expect the company’s future leaders to spend three months of the summer in Hawaii? Spring is the optimal season.”

“Hawaii? What about my trip to Dakota? How will I learn about The Shroud? We haven’t even talked about that tonight.”

“In those three months, you will learn more about The Shroud than you would ever learn on this boondoggle,” Xavier said. “Mr. Hannah, the company offers this workshop only once every five years. At its next offering, you will be almost thirty years old. Ineligible.”

“You’re telling me the only way to become a vice-president is to attend

this workshop?”

“Not only that, Mr. Hannah, it virtually ensures it. Without it, you are doomed to lower rungs of the ladder: petty power struggles, unrecognized potential, lack of insight into company decisions. Also, you will endlessly fret about your position relative to others. You can turn this on them, so that they worry about you humiliating them or ignoring them. But you must change their reality. I must go. Good night.”

“Wait. When will we talk again?”

He darted away.

***

Maureen lay in her bed that night, unable to rest. She still ached from their weekend madness, but sleep eluded her because of loneliness. She longed for Jonathan’s presence to accompany her through the night, and to touch her within so deeply, from the empty side of the bed.

She read her favorite poems, and the notes tucked into the back plastic pocket of his binder. But they only made her long for him even more, for their talks, for his voice. She needed his voice more than anything, more than she expected.

Besides three recordings, one to report his safe arrival, he had not spoken to her. This night changed into another morning. Again, no call would come.

***

The next morning, the bearded utopian met me at the door to the

Place.

“Hello.”

“Yes, hello,” he said. “I want to speak to you about the ‘Thirty-Eighth Discernment.’”

Before I could send him away, the man’s eyes lit up, and he grabbed the front of my coat. “Oh, the Magic Theater is glorious!” He laughed. “Yes!”

“It is, it is. Okay, let’s go inside where it’s slightly less windy.”

The man followed me inside the hall. The customers started milling around the screens and workstations. The huddles of salesmen scattered to block their approaches, protecting their wares from unguided impressions.

“You enjoyed your games yesterday?” I asked the utopian.

“Oh yes. I have spoken to my people. They have all agreed to buy many systems. Mr. Hannah, we have a thousand in our village. You must help us. I will travel to them in Iowa next weekend. A couple thousand will be there. I hoped you would join me when this is over.”

“Yes, but I may be sent away to learn how to spread the word.”

“Is it the final purpose of mankind?” the utopian asked.

“Maybe. With these, how could anyone be unhappy? Isn’t that the goal of humans, to be happy? The games answer to your every whim.”

“Of course, man. One can achieve inner harmony without the need to worry about or contaminate the outside world.”

“True. And you no longer need to discern.”

“‘The Parchment’ tells us how our technical expertise will proliferate in this decade and the next,” the utopian said. “Soon, it alone will sustain us. We’ll only need to work part-time. The missing piece was what we do with the remaining time.”

“This could be it, then. Without work, a lot of effort and time will be displaced. You must transfer your energy somewhere.”

“You have an intense understanding of ‘The Parchment.’ Yet you don’t speak of your skills. Is that part of the ‘Thirty-Eighth Discernment’?”

“Is what part of it?”

“Should we not boast of our abilities to read people’s energy fields and project energy?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have those skills. I suppose I’ve been too busy with the Magic Theater to develop them.”

“The people in our community will remedy that,” the utopian said. “You can hone your skills there. We’re even perfecting methods of energizing crops by our thoughts. Here are the directions to our village.” He pushed a slip of paper into my coat pocket. “Most important, you must show us the games, man. This will be humankind’s salvation!”

The middle-aged idealist continued with his praise of the earth-saving Magic Theater technology. He worshipped me. If I avoided him, the man would be lost. He would be forced to return to his endless search for the last page of a dead Aztec witch doctor’s paper.

***

“Your sales are significant, Jonathan,” Xavier said after the twelfth day, a Monday. “We are impressed.”

“How I am doing compared to the others?”

“You should not compare. They are fine salesmen. You, however, are a savior. I have seen you work with the people. You inspire them. You change their reality. You speak to their hearts. That is what will lead to your domination. Those people will inspire others, and the users will increase geometrically. You find their weaknesses. You find their dependencies. You get them to buy because their friends buy. So, let us go and discuss your upcoming trip to the Pacific!”

“They accepted me? The Board agreed?”

“Yes. I am very influential. Please excuse me for not telling you sooner. You needed time to be impressed with the idea, did you not?”

Xavier led me to a bar up the street from the Place. The patrons were all dressed in expensive, tight black clothes and shoes. Their hair was black and their skin was pasty white. Each one sipped martinis and spoke of their rebelliousness.

Xavier sat in silence and listened to the jazz musicians at the back of the building. We finished several drinks, matching one another. After six of them, I lost interest in Xavier’s professed natural solemnity. My glazed vision turned to a chalky-skinned Latin girl sitting alone next to me. I spun my stool to speak to her.

“You will go to the workshop, correct?” Xavier asked.

“Yes,” I said as I whirled back. “I think so.”

“Have you asked the girl to whom you are supposedly married?”

“No.”

“No? Jonathan, you shock me. Certainly it must have come up in conversation.”

“I haven’t talked with her about it yet. We haven’t talked much. We keep missing each other.”

“I hope she will not distract you. The workshop will change your life. You still have misgivings, and that troubles me.”

Xavier lectured me, but I heard little. He shouted to the beat of the jazz. After a half-hour, the Latin girl left. The martinis continued to soak into my blood. Xavier droned on and on, animated by his own inspiration.

“...Curcio.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“You see what the workshop has done for Mr. Curcio. Before that, he was a lazy intellectual. I knew him when he first arrived from college. He thought only of computers, art, and women and men. The women and men distrusted him. He was animal-like with them. They frustrated him. Now he is the greatest human being I have ever met. In my career, I have met tens of thousands of people. Anthony Curcio exceeds all of them combined.”

“He designed the games, right?”

“You have much to learn, Mr. Hannah. How can you not attend this workshop? You will learn the ways of the great rulers, capitalists, and creators…”

“About Mr. Curcio,” I interrupted. “Which games did he create?”

“All of them. Did you know he is an artist? His works once hung in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And he is an accomplished pianist. He first studied medicine, practicing the arts as a pastime. The company hired him when he completed his doctoral studies in computer science. As I said, his life focused after the workshop exactly ten years ago. After that, he started developing his ideas for Magic Theater. Listen! For this is history! He will be CEO and Chairman of the Board before long. Those above will see to it. History books will devote chapters to him!”

“Did he develop the idea for The Shroud?”

“Yes, but we do not need to talk about it yet,” Xavier said as he rubbed his fuzzy jaw. “You will learn about it from people who are more knowledgeable than I.”

“What do you know about it? I’m very curious.”

“Even I do not know much. Most of it resides in that exceptional creator’s head. He is releasing it on April 7th. Easter! What better day to ease people’s fear of death. I know that it builds on the experiences of others.”

“Experiences?”

“Yes, of course. He is attempting to represent reality. Thousands of people have died and returned. It will revolutionize man’s outlook on life. It will change religious thought. It will eliminate the debilitating and anxiety-inducing unconscious fear of death that plagues our society!”

He paused. He took two more swallows of the martini, then smoothed back his hair.

“Mr. Hannah! You can be a part of this!”

“Will I get to speak to Mr. Curcio if I go to Hawaii?”

“He is due to present the commencement address. If you do talk to him, tell him all is well here. We have enacted a revolution of people’s spirits.”

“If I refused the workshop, would I get to meet him?”

“No. That would be impossible.”

Xavier slammed his cone-shaped glass onto the bar, and it shattered. Pieces flew. One cut the white arm of a black-haired girl nearby. She shrieked and put the bloody arm to her mouth.

“You still refuse to be enthusiastic!” Xavier yelled. He slid off the stool

and bolted away.

“I will go!” I shouted, but he had left earshot.

Next week: Episode 38 - The Chicago Gaming Trade Show Part Three

Copyright © 2022 Christopher Rogers.

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