Virtual Eternity (the Serialized Novel) Episode 39 - The Minneapolis Research Center

This is Episode 39 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 Minneapolis Research Center

Chapter 2

Power over Others

- By Knowledge

In which Jonathan’s new conviction about ANALOGOUS REALITY is challenged by the modern temptation to wield knowledge of the secrets of human spirit and progress, which allows us to easily overcome our unrelenting fear of not pleasing others here

Flee. Find Curcio. Maybe I should kill him. Or know him. That is where the pleasure would lie, not in freezing Xavier. I walked alone. I edged the lake without turning to hear Xavier’s condemnations. Arctic gusts drowned out the shouts.

A few feet from death, one is only secure with oneself. I had once discovered security, peace, poetry, and ideas, in solitude far from the marketplace. Alone I could revel in the nearness of death. However, the busy marketplace always forced me to choose: buy now, sell now, produce now, travel now, network now. “Yes” or “no”? But in life’s authentic choosing, no certainty ever seems to come.

I desired Maureen. Her modesty hid a stunning physical beauty that no one would ever notice, no one would ever see, except me. But it was not even half a bodily choice, or a market choice. It was love. It was a penultimate choice. It was the unrelenting search for Beauty within her. I chose to act every day, maybe to hold Maureen or to compose, but the choice was still transitional. It was a means to elicit Truth and to perform momentary lofty acts. The market required that one violate Authentic humanity. Alone, away from the marketplace, I could be between a “yes” and a “no.” Alone, I would search for Curcio, my means to a Truth and a fleeting experience of greatness.

I walked around the city until the clouds darkened. At 7:30, I brushed past the last of the dreary people wandering out of the hall. According to Scott Bond, I was able to avoid Xavier, who had left the city.

I needed the sale in Iowa. It would be easy. I envisioned two thousand utopians lined up with helmets. Such an order would reinstate me. The Vincula managers would ignore Xavier.

I boxed the equipment I needed for a demonstration in Iowa. That utopian would give the only salvation of my career, that which always trumped all other weaknesses: numbers. Meeting numbers always had the power to redeem for other drawbacks that otherwise sped up one’s being fired. In this case, the unusually large order and its papers, signed by the dazed utopian, prolonged my trip. As I found tape and packing Styrofoam, I considered the possibility of coincidence here, but shook this thought from existence.

Some of the other eleven stars tried to stop me, but I produced the necessary papers. The formerly pleasant men now shunned me. I carried the boxes to my rental car alone.

First, to Minnesota. After sleeping overnight in a deserted motel, I drove northwestward over snowy roads. Drifts were plowed on the sides. I aimed for the ruts of those who drove on before me. Enormous flakes fell in the windless gray and clumped on my windshield. I saw little for an entire day except for the tracks ten feet ahead of me and the red beacons of fellow motorists. The car plodded along toward Curcio. To keep my stomach from sinking when an image of Maureen appeared in my dreaming mind, and to keep my eyelids from shutting because of my fatigue, I reflected on Curcio. Soon I would meet him, somehow. What would I say to him? Had Curcio more charisma than Xavier, or more worthy wisdom than the utopian? A more remarkable man awaited me, surely. The virus disk still shined in my coat pocket. That agent of destruction and of significant work for the culture warmed my breast. I wanted to veer to the west, but I still had no plan to reach Curcio once I reached his building. Maybe there would be time to contrive a way, or maybe I would meet with Greely again. Greely may know, but he was weak and incompetent.

The Holy Spirit prodded me onward into the snowy oblivion. It was a motive spark that demanded I should achieve greatness like my heroes and discover the reason for my aborted sister’s pain, and my life. The prospects were slight to achieve my goals. Nevertheless, I went toward some magnificence. What was it? It was not a relative self-esteem. It was not something to reconcile my values. It was an absolute worth one could share with others, lasting for centuries of people. Pride? It was a type of pride, but not crass selfishness. I surrendered my former life and did things unimagined a year ago. Charity? It was a type of charity, but not blind altruism. I pursued a social worth with a pleasure. Hedonism? It was a type of hedonism, for I maintained a continuous longing to be gratified with the worth, socially. Vanity? It was a type of vanity, for I longed for recognition from Curcio, from Maureen, from Olson, and from those capable.

The gray fog and snow encompassed me until the gray turned black. Now I saw only five feet of road ahead. I focused on the short green signs as they sped by and totaled the miles traveled toward Curcio. The five feet became ten again when the two cities better lighted my path.

My room at the assigned hotel on the outskirts of the cities was still reserved for me. I had feared the company had canceled this visit with the researchers. Apparently, they had not yet processed Xavier’s request to end my boondoggle. With this fear blotted out, I glowed. The scientists there could certainly tell me about Curcio and the Phase 4 Shroud game awaiting approval for release.

The following day, hundreds of other workers and I drove through clumping flakes to the company’s Minnesota research facility gates. The cars formed more ruts in the road. Only two other cars bumped my rental that morning, and the dents were slight. Maybe my company provided auto insurance was still valid. I walked up to the glass doors of the building with only an aching neck. It was a nine-story tower designed exactly like my building down south.

I waited in the lobby for a half hour.

“Jonathan?”

“Yes. Are you Macie Mason?’

“That’s me. Nice to meet you. We’ll be going up to the conference room.”

Mason was a thin woman, late forties. Her arms dangled out to the side of her skinny but squaring body. Like the rest of the people in this tundra, she had a pale face. She wore glasses that she had already pushed higher on her head eight times. Others brushed by us. They all looked similar, nearly all men. Everyone wore wrinkled short-sleeve shirts and ties. All the people we passed had smirks of confidence, like most of the workers in my glass tower. Despite their awkward clothing and gaits, they seemed certain of their working lives.

“In here.”

In a room overlooking the snowy fields, about twenty men sat at a long table.

“You’re the one who’s gonna bring everything to the people?” one man asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I said that you’re the one who’s gonna make sure all our work is sold. That’s what you’re here for. Right?”

“Yes.”

“Have a seat,” Mason said. “We’re in the middle of a meeting, but you’re welcome to join us. Before we go on, please tell us why you’re here.”

“My name’s Jonathan Hannah, from the Peyton Beach corporate headquarters. I’m here to see the work that’s going on. They sent me to find out what’s coming up in the next few years and to learn about the technology.”

“That should take all of twenty minutes,” Mason said with a snort. “They told me you’d be here two weeks. Look, we’re busy here, Jonathan. It’s not the fluff that you guys work with. We’re making real future products here. Look, they told me to make sure you get the Grand Tour. Since when does Marketing take an interest in what we’re doing here?” Several of the group nodded.

“I’m supposed to be leading the marketing effort for The Shroud.

Maybe you could help me gather information on that.”

“Some of that is still executive private. Those of us who know can’t even tell you. Look, we’ll give you a desk and a phone. You can call your potential customers. I don’t think much of our work will interest you.”

“Fine. But you shouldn’t put yourselves down. Marketers need to know what’ll be available to sell. I’m sure we can help each other in a lot of areas. We have a lot of data that support your decisions on what direction research should go.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn, Jonathan. That’s not how it works. Look, we float ideas for research, and then upper management shoots them down most of the time. They’re the only ones who give us direction.”

“You guys start up initiatives. Where do the ideas come from?”

“From us,” one scientist said. “From the technology we know. Most of it doesn’t go anywhere, though.”

“Do you work with Curcio?” I asked.

“You know Mr. Curcio?” two of them asked.

“Yes, everyone knows him. Did he advise you on the means to develop The Shroud?”

“Oh yes,” Mason said. “Look, we’ll discuss that later this week or next. Let’s set up a meeting, for next Saturday morning, 10:00. Are you free then, Jonathan?”

“I’m free the entire time. But Saturday?”

“Good. As for the rest of your stay here, I’m not sure how to entertain you. You could speak with our ‘Save Our Supersmasher’ group. They’re into marketing, of sorts. As you know, we designed part of the defunct Department of Energy Superatomic Supersmasher. That group’s sole purpose is to write letters to congressmen, call their staff members, and prove a tidal wave of public support exists. You’re also welcome to stay here at this meeting, but I don’t think you’ll hear anything useful.”

For the rest of the morning, the researchers discussed their projects. Each one spoke as if their work was difficult, but their tone was relaxed, because they knew how to succeed. Their only obstacle was lack of funding.

“That’s all,” one said with a shrug. “We should get most of the work done by the end of March.”

“Has anyone reviewed it yet?”

“That’s the next step, of course. We’ll send around a review design document to most of you next week.”

“What’s the due date on that?”

“We need it back in about a week to meet the deadline. After that, we have no time to make changes. Funding runs out.”

“Look, are you going to the bean counters to get more money?” Mason asked.

“If we need to. All we need is a quick review time. The last draft we sent out took five weeks to get back.”

“One week is an awfully quick turnaround, Grant.”

“It’s only an eight-page document, Macie.”

“Look, give us three or four weeks. I’m sure you can talk the bean counters into paying for another month.”

As they circled the room, every one of the researchers reported similar problems: schedules that dragged, documents that required review, and decisions that the entire group needed to make. Some actually suggested that they decide during the meeting.

“We’re starting to lobby for money for our next project,” one spectacled man said. “This is big. We’re gonna revolutionize computing. We believe that we can design the next-generation desktop computer chip with our current people. Several of us think we can manufacture a gallium arsenide processor at one-tenth the usual cost.”

“What?” several of the others said. Many laughed aloud.

“Pete, you’re overreaching again.”

“We can make this work over the next two years. We could then partner with one of the big manufacturers to produce it. We changed the chip for the Magic Theater so that instead of requiring huge microcomputers, the software works on affordable network interface machines in every home. We can do this, too.”

“You’re going way overboard, Pete.”

“Wait,” I said. “What’s the idea behind this?” Mason glared at me and shook her head.

“Basically, we use gallium arsenide instead of silicon,” the scientist said.

“We can fabricate much smaller electrical circuits with this substance than with silicon because of the reduced heat. We can put more into one chip. The most impressive thing is that we can use light to enact the components inside. Each gate inside the chip won’t need to be connected.”

The room exploded with laughter.

“You think this is impossible?” I asked Mason. “Should you be questioning new approaches to problems like that these days? They laughed at the inventor of the photocopier, you know. How can you people laugh at this?”

“We don’t laugh at its feasibility,” Mason said. “We’ve been schooled not to reject new ideas like Pete’s. But he has no chance of ever getting funding for that. That’s a business our company doesn’t do.”

“By definition, every company should try new market areas,” I said. “What did they do when the company started?”

“I don’t know for sure, but they won’t enter new markets. They don’t have the marketing contacts.”

“Marketing contacts? That’s not hard to establish.”

“Besides, Mr. Curcio wants to pull Pete’s group into developing the interfaces to the latest 986 chip.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you be sharing more of what you’re doing with your marketing people?”

“Absolutely, Mr. Hannah,” Mason said. “We’d like your help. But Pete’s out of the loop. Only a few of us here know this information. For you, first you need the proper clearances, but you could get them. You’d help us immensely.”

“I could?”

“Sure. You could stay here. It’s cold a lot, but the summers are good. And the salaries are world class. Most important, we’ve got the knowledge of freedom. If you only knew what we know.”

“Maybe I know it already.”

“Yeah, right. Hannah, you’re obviously tied too much to this world and the old religion to know what we know.”

“This world?”

“We’re using this world, this evil bag of matter, to help people escape it. We know more than you ever will. Look, we have the formulas, software, sounds, temperatures, vapors, and drugs to leave the flesh so we can be perfect. To be away from things.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s how you can get free from the fears that overwhelm you and everyone you know.”

“What fears?”

“One example is the fears of not meeting others’ needs,” she said. “Constant anxiety about what other people feel, about their unspoken desires being disappointed. In you. If you could be like us, you’d never worry about others’ bodily and emotional needs ever again. No more. Look, we have knowledge far above nearly everyone else. Meeting others’ needs is unnecessary and pointless. I gave up thinking about others’ petty wishes years ago. Their real needs are to get rid of their bodies and become pure spirit, like we can, soon.”

“How?”

“We’re days away from finalizing this device,” Mason said. “We know how to give people the spark that makes them go. We know how people got that spark, and how to turn it around and release their evolved selves. We know how to lead them all there.”

“And you think I’m tied too much to this so-called evil?”

“Look, we know about your past, about your indiscretions with women, including that Lana Schon. About your dabbling in that religion and poetry and your Marriage. That’s all body stuff. Evil. Tied to a God you’ll never reach, far up in the clouds or in space or whatever, Who you’ll never understand with all His paradoxes. Such as creating out of nothing? What the hell is that? He is creation. And creation is Him. That’s the only way, and we’re the ones who know how this works. For you, He’s lightyears away. Then there’s this Christ thing. Really? God and man? Sure, He might be high up on the scale, but how could He be God? Look, we have this knowledge, and know it exactly. But you do ask the right questions. You play a good skeptic. There’s opportunity for you here, if you work at it. We could use your help.

“Look, Jonathan, now you can choose the life here, to understand our knowledge of the full spirit, without outside authority and leaders and other people.”

“No, Ms. Mason. This religion of spirit, the evil body, and your secret knowledge can’t possibly know God nearly as much as you claim. You maintain this certainty that man can know about God, or something like Him. But our intellect is too imperfect and based on imperfect things to know the mighty perfection that is God. God grants us what He allows us to know. And He uses similarities and analogies that only a great unity of people could conceive of, even somewhat meaningfully. We can achieve that unity, to help us understand the mysteries, by getting rid of strife within that unity, and forgiving, like God does, and by helping others.”

“Wrong, Jonathan. You’ve ended up on the wrong side of Truth. Okay, look, this meeting is over.”

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God

As we forgive others

Next week: Episode 40 - The Iowa Commune

Copyright © 2022 Christopher Rogers.

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