This is Episode 38 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 Three
For the rest of the week, I continued to try to change the lives of the dozens of bored who braved the drafty hall. The flies still raged; now they covered my entire body with welts. Every morning they healed, and I arrived at the hall with smooth skin.
The training in the Pacific must be very striking to shape a man like Curcio. I abandoned hope of meeting Curcio within the next few weeks. I would meet him later that spring as an equal, as a graduate of the same school with a common body of knowledge to share.
My eleven colleagues often mentioned that my sagging sales figures were improving. Nearly all of them sold more systems than I did, but they apparently recognized my budding charisma.
On the night before my final day at the trade show, I walked up the street through the slush toward the hotel after another long day of buyers. Wind buffeted my long jacket open, and I struggled to button it. I gave up, for the lounge of martini-drinking brunettes was nearby. I needed to endure this ice for only one more day.
“Mr. Hannah,” a vagrant said from a doorway.
“Yes? How did you know my name?”
“It’s me. Harold.” Greely’s wire-framed glasses peered through an Eskimo hood rimmed with fur.
“Greely? What the...? Leave me alone.”
“I simply wanted to check on your progress, Mr. Hannah.”
“Progress? To what?” I grabbed the zipper of Greely’s jacket in my fist. “You set this up for me, didn’t you? This whole trip!”
“Of course, but I tried to arrange a direct trip to Dakota. They insisted on this boondoggle.”
“I don’t care! I can’t help you in your crusade. I’ll never get close to the source of these games. I’m certainly not capable of killing Curcio.”
“You know his name,” he said. “They speak of him even down here. His fame is growing. That makes things more difficult for us.”
“There’s no ‘us.’ I’m out. I’m leaving for Hawaii in two days.”
“No! That would cancel the operation!”
“What operation? Your only operation was to arrange a trip for me to this tundra.” The fog of my breath steamed Greely’s glasses. “Your only plan was to throw me into a building so I could somehow use my wits to get into a secured area, infect a system, and kill a genius.”
“It’s a brilliant scheme!”
“What?”
“You must continue! Have you not seen the paralysis this technology has caused in these people? I’ve watched them. They’re mesmerized because of those corrupt images.”
“Maybe if your… our religion gave them something more tangible to worship.”
“Mr. Hannah, I beg you to continue. If this system goes unchecked, it will sap the country’s spirit. I have confirmed that THE SHROU D will soon be approved. It will go online in exactly one month.”
“You’re afraid of that? Why? Because it’ll distract them from the Church?”
“It’ll fully and permanently take away their fear of hell.”
“How? I’m sorry. I have the opportunity to become a vice-president in one of the world’s top five most profitable companies. Doesn’t the Hawaii workshop ensure this?”
He pulled away from my grasp. He pounded the wall with his fist.
“Easy, easy. You’ll hurt yourself.”
He only whimpered. “Here, the virus is on this disk. Take it, take it, in case you need it.”
“Okay, okay.” I slid the disk into the big side pocket of my jacket.
“Goodbye, Harold.”
The wind smacked me as I left the doorway. My feet soaked as I stepped into the sludge of the broken sidewalk.
Inside the bar, the gin warmed me. Black-clad patrons moved and chattered around me. They left me in peace. After the chain of martinis and olives began to weigh my eyelids, the same fair skinned Latin girl slid into my booth. Her hair was the blackest of all the patrons, thus her skin
appeared the whitest.
Concepcion spoke little English. I understood some of her language from my early schooling. We laughed about our words. We dissected the meanings. An hour later, we even translated a four-line poem of mine into
Spanish, changing it to meet rhyme and meter conventions. She believed I wrote it for her.
After my sixth or eighth martini, as my thoughts turned to sleep, the places Concepcion put her hands on me, and the arrangement she suggested for the night, I turned morose. The girl remarked on my change.
I had written the poem for Maureen. If the image of me flirting with the Latin girl was to reach Maureen, she would disintegrate. I could not endure any sadness in Maureen, especially if I caused it. The breach between myself and the perfect was growing, like before, and for some
reason, I could not allow that. I left the bar.
In my room, I lunged for the phone and tapped the number.
“Maureen, it’s me.”
“Jonathan. Finally, we connect. It’s been a while.”
“I’m sorry. I tried a few times. You can’t imagine the sales we’re doing.
It’s been tough to break away. At night, I get exhausted.”
“Things have been hectic here too. One more day of the show, right?”
“Yes, but many opportunities are opening up for me now.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“They want me to go to Hawaii for an executive workshop, for three months.”
“Three months?”
“Yeah. It starts next week.”
“You can’t even come home?” she asked.
“No.”
We were quiet for a while. She sniffled, then sighed.
“Maureen?”
“Um.” She cleared her throat. “What about saving the printed word, Jonathan?”
“I’m starting to believe that no one can save it. I’ve seen the people here. Nothing can stop this system. I might as well join. That’s what the workshop is for. It’ll ensure that I reach vice-president.”
“This is so sudden. What about our plans? Remember? We were gonna leave Vincula. Jonathan, I’ve already given notice.”
“What? Why?”
“My boss had been absent every other day for three weeks. Last week she blamed me for her late work yet again, and I got written up for questioning her. So I felt it was time to give my notice. And I’ve been exhausted lately. I only want to sleep. I get home and go straight to bed. Besides, we need to help Uncle Pat get the oranges, and the house, ready. Tomorrow’s actually my last day.”
“Maybe making a big change like that isn’t a good idea right now. I won’t be back when we thought. Things have changed.”
“You have changed. In only two weeks. But we did talk about doing this. The money will be tighter, but we’ll survive. We could even sell the land. They keep calling.”
“Sell the land? Maureen, hold on a bit. You simply don’t realize what’s going on. Society is about to change radically. And I’ll be a leader of it. You’d need to see it here to understand.”
“I only need to understand you,” she said. “That’s not what you want. In only a few days, you’ve forgotten about us. You’ve fully forgotten your poems. You’ve fully forgotten what you wanted to do on your trip. I love the Jonathan who wanted to spread ideas through beautiful words, and find out things about God. I love the Jonathan who loves me because he found Beauty.”
“But where is it, Maureen? You’re away from me. And I’m too exhausted to create. All I have around me are ice and snow and bored people. Beauty always disappears. It’s too difficult to pursue it all the time.”
“You’ve got more than what surrounds you that’s beautiful.”
“But I’m tired of chasing the immaterial. I’m human. I can’t see that unseen Beauty or the good inside things and people and God. Sometimes I can, but I’m tired.”
“That’s normal, but have you changed?” she said. “Have you found someone else already?” She paused for a while.
“No, Maureen. I love you. Only you.”
“But you’ve changed.” She sniffed. “You were certain before.”
“Certain of what? Life is searching for what’s good. And I never hold it for long. It’s useless.”
“You’re acting like you did when I first met you last summer. What about our Marriage?”
“How would Hawaii change that?” I asked.
The silence grew between us.
“Hello?” I said after a few seconds. “What should we do?”
“Jonathan, when you remember what you truly want in life, call me again. I miss you terribly, but you will not hurt me. If it’s true that you’re a company man, go and figure it out. But being the organization man doesn’t suit you.”
“Okay. But remember that I love you, and only you. And please don’t sell that land.”
“But developers keep calling. It could help us out big-time.”
I was silent.
“Hello?” she said.
“Okay, I know it’s not my decision, but can you hold off for a while? I know it’d devastate you to sell that place. And I still might turn down the trip to Hawaii. But I do have things to finish here. I’ll call you again and let you know.”
“I’m moving up to the grove this weekend. It doesn’t have a working phone yet.”
“I’ll call information.”
“Well, no, I can’t list the number because of Robert.” She sniffed again. “I’ll try calling you at the hotel in Minneapolis, in a couple days. If you’re there.”
“Maureen, I love you.” My throat tightened, then she clicked away.
***
I rose the next morning, late. The cars and the garbage truck emptying dumpsters annoyed my sleep. A maid’s knock at the door startled me out of my bed.
On my final walk down the slushy cracked street to the Place, I stopped at the doorway that Greely had occupied the previous night. I was surprised to be disappointed to find it empty. Maybe he could have guided me to Curcio. I knew I could not leave this snowbound region until I found Curcio. That name kept me from nuzzling the neck of my lover, who suffered without me. Pain shot across my belly when I imagined her eyes welling. I must find Curcio, soon, somewhere in that tundra northwest of the city.
I arrived at the final day of the trade show, three hours late. The people stood shoulder-to shoulder around the Magic Theater display area. Scott Bond answered questions from forty people at once. Xavier Cambridge held a lecture for one hundred people. At seeing me enter the crowd, he broke away in mid-sentence.
“Mr. Hannah, it is kind of you to join us,” Xavier said as he placed his arm around me. “Let us take a walk, sir. Keep your coat on.”
We went in silence out into the colder city. Cars sloshed in the snow. We crossed a road over to the sidewalk bordering the frigid lake. The wind reddened our faces. Chunks of ice churned in Lake Michigan below us and smashed into the wall on which we walked.
“Doesn’t that inspire you?” Xavier asked. “The gray. The cold. That deathly cold. It’s enough to keep one inside one’s rooms, don’t you think? If one were to slip into the water, the waves would surely slam you into the wall. Before one could regain strength, one’s blood would freeze. We are close to death, are we not?
“Are you ready to change people’s realities, Jonathan? Are you prepared to turn it all around on others? You will have the power to overcome the never-ending fear of humiliation and being disregarded, losing face, never being consulted, not mattering. You will overwhelm them all. You will change their reality.
“Jonathan, now you will choose the life of corporate power and influence, success and achievement.”
I shook my head and shivered.
“No, Xavier. Your religion of valuing charisma and arbitrary power over others goes against what God is, and what humans are. God predesigned the world, and us, to exist in accordance with a perfection, the one He intended for us. He created and sustains the world according to a design that does not change. And our soul’s purpose is to align with it, not to have power over others and to matter, but to be humble – which is the only way to know God. I’m not going to Hawaii.”
“Oh, I’m afraid you have made a big mistake,” Xavier said. “That is the final word! I will not try to change your mind, because your opportunity has now passed. You could have gone far in this company. The Board recognized that. Think of the hundreds of people you have changed these last two weeks. Billions more were waiting. Yes, you and Vincula would have determined the future of billions.”
“I’m sorry. I know you went to a lot of trouble.”
“You should not apologize,” Xavier said. “You are no longer in that position. Your future in this company and in every other company for which you work will be stunted. However, you now have the fortune of knowing this. Hundreds of millions of men and women still cling to the hope that their work will advance. They are doomed. You should now surrender that hope.”
“My trip will continue, right? Will I get to meet Curcio?”
“That is not feasible. They will not allow you to enter the Dakota site. Your trip is over. I must go. I have wasted too much time with you.”
“I will still lead The Shroud project, right?”
Xavier laughed. Then he stopped to stare at me. He laughed again.
“Mr. Hannah, you are doomed to frustration in your work, and therefore your life. You will rarely be consulted about your ideas, and any ideas you create will be ignored and squashed. Your salary will be depleted as the value of money decreases. Your job will always be in jeopardy. No matter how well The Shroud does, your work will be unknown. You will spend your young days waiting for your golden years.
“Actually,” he continued, “you won’t matter at all to anyone, quite frankly, except perhaps your pathetic little wife.”
I lurched toward Xavier, but stopped. He flinched backward, slipping, and almost flying headlong into the water, but he hurtled his body landward, into a snow-plow drift. Hair covered his red face.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven
May your kingdom come
Next week: Episode 39 - The Minneapolis Research Center
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.
Christopher Rogers is the author of the novel Virtual Eternity: An Epic 90s-Retro Florida Techno Pro-life Love Story and Conversion Journey, which dramatizes a story about the Catholic conversion of two twenty-somethings in the 90s, interleaving a story about love, hookups, corporate and social culture in the 90s, technical intrigue, and a journey to the Holy Trinity. The novel is available here, at the Catholic Corner, which is on Mike Church's Crusade Channel website or any other major online bookseller. “Virtual Eternity is a contemporary fiction written by Christopher Rogers that I read and fell in love with. Its rare to find a book that treats of our modern hook-up culture and then honors its antithesis: Sacramental marriage. Rogers does this while weaving his characters through a Big-Tech thriller. Christian readers will appreciate this work as entertainment, done right.” – Mike Church Virtual Eternity is also available in serialized form for free; start reading here.
Christopher is married and has helped raise a family of three children, while also working as a human factors engineer and project manager in the fields of healthcare, intelligence, military, aerospace, and manufacturing. He has Master’s degrees in Humanities (Houston-Clear Lake) and Industrial Engineering (Auburn). Christopher belongs to the Discalced Carmelite Secular Order. He is also the author of the novel Dumb College: A Story about the Decline of Western Civilization.
