The circular receptionist island located between the front lobby door and the staircase was meant to capture all visitors and then direct their path into iCon. But first-time visitors would often bypass this to take a closer look at the displayed artwork before conducting their business. But on their way to the corporate gallery, the grand staircase would draw their attention away. Two stories high, the grand staircase was twenty-one feet wide, each red-carpeted step curving outward, the bottom two forming semi-circles as deep as a small stage, providing a natural platform for the CEO to make speeches to his team. Supporting the base of the grand staircase, the floor of the lobby was white travertine, cleaned and polished weekly to maintain its shine. On the roof six floors above, a steel and glass skylight let in natural sunlight with all the floors between pierced, opened up to allow the light to cast a dramatic spotlight onto the grand staircase. Mia had heard people say that on the summer solstice at noon, a shaft of sunlight would illuminate the painting of Damien Cezary that hung at the top of the stairs on the third floor landing. If true, Mia wondered if there was an annual ceremony, people gathering on the balconies that ringed the openings on each floor to view and applaud this marvel.
An unwritten regulation forbade the average iCon team member from daring to sully the staircase with their unclean feet. Walking on that red carpet was reserved for the executive team and VIP visitors, except for rare special occasions, perhaps a holiday party, when the staircase might be thrown open to the masses. Otherwise, all the regular people were supposed to use an elevator located behind the staircase. (But only the minion elevator, never the express elevator reserved for executives that shot straight up to the sixth floor, the top of the HQ. Which was another parable teaching how the hierarchy should be viewed.) Of course, every night janitors walked up and down the elite’s staircase, cleaning and vacuuming, but no one important was ever present to witness this desecration.
Unseen, behind a concealed door that opened directly behind the receptionist’s island, in a room filled with monitors connected to hidden security cameras and microphones secreted throughout the six floors of the HQ building, the iCon Security Resource Center was on standby, ready and able to put down an invasion of hostile outsiders or even an insurrection undertaken by treasonous team members. Outside the Resource Center, armed security guards patrolled the HQ on foot while helmeted guards rode two-wheeled stand-up scooters around the perimeter of the property. The Security Team also had their own patrol cars, complete with flashing lights and sirens, painted black to look like a police car, but with the word iCon emblazoned on each side. But however they rolled, the iCon Security Team was made up of the best and brightest, the veteran elite of military and police forces, skilled in the latest technology for monitoring and protecting the corporation from all insecurity, hazards, and danger.
And eight weeks ago in this imposing lobby in the grand HQ, the dozen and a half new hires from the defunct Edgestow College could see that the hierarchal concepts embodied in the building’s structure were totally different from what they had experienced in the academic world. Both former faculty members and clerical workers were being introduced to a different paradigm. Here at iCon there was little democracy, no equality, no bridging the chasm between the highest and the lowest. In this corporate system, those at the top had disproportionately higher salaries, elevated perks and privileges, with a bubble of authority separating them from the lower echelons. Here, the quality of an idea didn’t matter as much as who introduced it, and most new ideas would face a lonely death other than those ideas put forward by executives. Here, profit and loss shaped every goal, and the search for insight and discovery was deemed to be too costly. This was a realm where job titles mattered more than the quality of a person’s thinking or their creativity. This was the brave new world facing the former Edgestow College staff lined up at the base of the grand staircase. They all stood in a line following the curve of the bottom step, looking up at the portrait of iCon’s founder and CEO, Damien Cezary, two stories away at the top of the grand staircase, the leader of the empire that had conquered them all and dragged them away in chains to put them on display for the populace back home as a demonstration of iCon’s superior might. Veni, vidi, vici. iCon came to Barrow Heights, iCon saw Noonan Hall, iCon conquered Edgestow College.
Jan came over to Mia and gave her a quick hug before taking her place in line. She whispered to Mia, “This is so exciting! I can’t believe I’m here!”
Mia gave her a smile and said, “Me either.”
At five minutes after eleven, nine men belonging to the Security Resource Center appeared at the top of the staircase, spanning its width. Brush cut hair (with fades), perfectly groomed, ear pieces dropping curled translucent plastic cords that were tucked behind and under the back collar of dark suits, white shirts and subdued ties out front, spit polished black dress shoes forming a firm foundation (in a company where the unwritten work dress code implied that khakis were borderline overdressing). And as they stood at attention, the iCon security guards made the lobby walls look slack and bowed in contrast. They weren’t wearing sunglasses, but their eyes were as unreadable as if they had been, their appearance testifying that they were ready to school the Secret Service in a thing or two about protecting VIPs. Looking down from above, the security squad assessed Mia and the other new hires, then dismissed them as a potential threat. Responding to some unseen signal after standing at attention for several moments, the line of dauntless men started down the stairs in unison, all leading off with their right foot. Nervously, the new hires looked up and down their own line at the bottom of the stairs silently wondering, “Do we need to move out of the way of these armed men?” But there was no need to worry because the guards dropped off in pairs and took up positions at the sides of each of the bottom four steps, on the left and on the right, with one remaining near the center on the third stairstep from the bottom.
Mia looked away from the security squad, shifting her focus back up to the portrait of Cezary. When the image took a step forward, she was startled to realize that it was the man himself in the flesh that she had been looking at and not his face on canvas. The CEO of iCon had made an entrance before the security guards had reached the bottom, so she had missed his appearance at top of the stairs. She recognized him as the same man Amunson had scurried quickly toward at the last Edgestow College fencing tournament, which now made more sense. Curiously enough, he was wearing the same thing he had been wearing on the day of her fencing tourney — acid green turtleneck and black slacks — with the addition of a black blazer today. Mia speculated about the purpose behind the display of the large security squad. Even in his own organization and in his own building (where you’d think he’d be as safe as anywhere on the planet), Damien Cezary was flanked by nine security guards. No doubt all the pomp and circumstance of this staging was to give everyone the impression, “Lowly minions, behold your god!” as the founder and CEO descended from the heavens to meet with the spoils of corporate war below. The elaborate display was suitable for the entrance of a Roman emperor, and Mia thought, “All he is lacking is a toga and crown of laurel.”
Cezary was a slight man with a trim frame. He appeared to be in his seventies, with waves of white hair fringing a face which was dominated by eyes rimmed in pink and a beak of a nose, all topping a skinny neck. The placement of his feet on the stairs was quick and deliberate. Overall, his appearance was vaguely birdlike. His mouth was little more than a slit in his face — no visible lips, no evidence that he had ever smiled, not even once. Giving no indication that he was even aware that there were people below looking up at him, waiting for his arrival, he looked off into the distance, lost in thoughts of who knows what, in no way interested in the presence of the new hires or even his security guards.
His dramatic descent completed, Cezary took a position on the deep semicircle that was one step above the floor. He stood about four feet away from the line of the new
hires, iCon’s captives gained in the triumph over Edgestow College. Starting at the north end of the line, each new hire stepped up onto the bottom stairstep and then came forward to receive Cezary’s handshake and singsong greeting — “Welcome to iCon. Welcome to the team. Together we can change the future.” The words sounded almost tuneful, warm and heartfelt, but the welcoming impression was undercut when Cezary never looked any of them in the face, never made direct eye contact with anyone. Then without speaking, each new hire returned to their place in line, and in turn, the next person stepped up and forward.
Unlike everyone else in line, Jan’s response to Cezary’s message of welcome and handshake was very enthusiastic and entirely off script. She patted the top of his hand during the handshake and barely waited for him to conclude his remarks before grabbing his forearm while gushing, “I’m so happy to be here. Thank you so much for this tremendous opportunity.” Cezary frowned and rolled his eyes wildly before jerking his arm away from the incursion into his personal space. For a moment, Mia thought he was going to order his guards to shoot this overly enthusiastic woman. But then a smile forced its way onto his face, and he said, “What is your name, dear? Jan? You’re very welcome, Jan dear.” Afterward, just as quickly, the smile vanished from his mouth as if it had never occurred, replaced by tightly pursed lips.
Her turn next, Mia stepped up and forward to shake Cezary’s hand. During the handshake, she caught his mental impression of her. “Blonde, but not blonde enough. Height is adequate, but build is too athletic. Overall, only moderately attractive. And yet her heritage has been validated.” Same as with all the previous new hires, he repeated the same singsong phrases of welcome to iCon. “Welcome to iCon. Welcome to the team. Together we can change the future.” And then contrary to his thoughts of disapproval toward her, he did something different by paying a unique attention to her. Unexpectedly, he placed his hand on her shoulder, tilted his head surrounded by feathery white hair sideways, peered at her face (although he didn’t quite look into her eyes, which was disturbing) and said, “We want to make a special place for you here, my dear. Please contact me if you have any questions about your position on our team here at iCon.”
Caught off guard, Mia blurted out the first thing that came to her mind, “Oh, that would be great! I always have questions.” Then she felt prompted to be polite and said, “Thank you, sir. For your attention in my regard. Thank you very much, Mr. Cezary.”
“Excellent. Excellent.”
Her initiation completed, she stepped back and down, returning to her place in line. Then it was back to the repetition of the routine remarks given to each remaining newcomer. “Welcome to iCon. Welcome to the team. Together we can change the future.” After enduring handshakes from the entire line of new iCon team members, Cezary retreated to the fourth step up and concluded the induction ceremony with a brief address to the entire group. “We look forward to integrating you into our family here. For we are a family here at iCon, not defined by business structures based by outmoded ideas about roles and responsibilities. Please make a concerted effort to join with us and embrace your new membership here with a whole-hearted passion and dedication. Together we can change the future.”
Given what happened at the end of her first day, Mia figured out later that the phrase “whole-hearted passion and dedication” referred to the overtime hours that everyone was expected to work, without compensation. She left at ten after five o’clock, and once she was outside, she could see that she was the only person leaving the entire twelve block long building. And it felt like there were hostile eyes glaring at her back the entire walk to her car. Mia later discovered that it was common knowledge among the minions that Cezary and Amunson both watched over the parking lot at the end of day, to see who left when. Acres of cars still parked outside the HQ, Mia’s was the first vehicle leaving the iCon parking lot. The only vehicle leaving the parking lot. The next day, Chynna Chandler (Senior Manager, Corporate Communications and Investor Relations Department) informed Mia that she had exited the building improperly. The door to the outside located in their area on the ground floor (convenient to the parking lot) was not considered an “officially recognized exit” and was to be used only in emergencies. “All iCon team members are to enter and leave through the front lobby doors.”(She didn’t mention that this was the long way around.) “This allows the lobby to function as a gathering place, creating a greater sense of community and camaraderie among the iCon membership.” In contrast, all the top executives had close-as-possible parking spots, and their own private exit close to their vehicles.
Nothing was said about the timing of her exit, but Mia figured that had also been deemed improper. So the second night, she did some research. Starting at five o’clock, she watched to see when others left, keeping an eye on the parking lot from the windows in the small conference room in the Corporate Communications and Investor Relations area. A few team members started leaving the HQ (using the approved lobby door) at 5:30, the majority around 5:45, a few stragglers after 6:00, with others scattered around the building still at their desks when Mia finally left at 6:15, walking through the empty lobby, her heels clicking on the travertine floor as she wandered around the lobby looking at all the artwork.
Eight weeks ago on the afternoon of her very first day at iCon, CEO Cezary had given a second speech. That afternoon, the entire membership of the iCon team who worked at the HQ was in attendance, most gathered together in the lobby looking up at Cezary on the grand staircase (standing on the fourth step up so everyone could see him) with a few watching from the balconies ringing the stairs on the upper floors while he led the celebration of the takeover of Edgestow College’s campus, which he said brought iCon “one step closer to the goal of totally transforming humanity.” She still hadn’t heard how the purchase of Edgestow College specifically helped iCon, and she was curious to find out. However, in his speech, Cezary did not elaborate on how the purchase benefited the corporation, and no one she asked later knew either.
As he continued talking, Mia was surprised to discover how little Cezary understood current technology. In his speech, he referred to storing data on floppy disks and later called his cell phone “a wireless c-phone”! But then she remembered his contribution to his company’s software development had been made back in the 1970s. These days, he was known for his politicking, eloquence, and philosophy, not his technical expertise. In spite of this, everyone around her was paying rapt attention to everything he said, applauding often and cheering enthusiastically many times during his speech.
“Tried and true friends of iCon, team members in our shared vision. Using the formula of hard work and an inspiring vision combined with dedicated and united hearts, with a view toward the constructive destruction of outdated concepts and paradigms, we have accomplished — together — things which would have been impossible even five years ago, things unimaginable a century ago. Together, we are confronting, and it is my sincerest hope, daring to take up the Transhumanist’s Challenge! And what is the Transhumanist’s Challenge, you may ask. Gladly will I tell you what the Transhumanist’s Challenge is. ‘It’s saying Yes! to every human desire.’ Putting Death to death through the magic of technology. And today’s technology would have been called magic by our great-grandparents, who would be bewildered by, unable to comprehend, and in awe of the advancements we’ve made in the last few decades.
“Science has already developed artificial intelligence that can independently identify specific bacteria to help cure infectious diseases, AI that can increase company profit margins by directing challenging customer service phone calls, and AI that will soon save countless lives once driverless cars become a everyday reality on our roads. The construction of an artificial copy of the hippocampus portion of the brain — intended to be used as a prosthesis, a replacement for a damaged mammalian brain — is an actuality today. This manufactured brain has already passed clinical trials in non-human
primates, with testing soon to begin on a human trial group. Once we have discarded the outmoded and romantic notion that humanity possesses a soul, it will become a simple process to catalog the essential patterns needed to duplicate all the functionality of the brain. Of any brain. Of your brain. We were each born with a meat computer, but that doesn’t mean we must die with one! We are very close to the capability where we can imprint our intelligence and thoughts onto to any suitable biological or even non-biological substrate that we might choose.
“As a result of these and many other technological advances, a momentous decision is facing you and I. Will humanity dare to risk integrating with H+ technology that will provide us with perfect health, unlimited knowledge, and unstoppable power? Or will we shrink back in fear, clinging to romantic but unscientific notions of a soul that we might lose, shackled by antiquated doctrinal precepts? How far will I go to say ‘Yes!’ to the desires of my heart? How far will you go? Will I allow anyone to hold me back? No! I will not! No! You will not!”
After pausing to allow team member cheering and a brief chant of “H+! H+! H+! H+!” to die down, Cezary continued, “We are confronting ultimate, transcendent issues, the bitter ceiling that has been holding humanity down for millennia. Limitations of body and mind can be overcome, if you will dare as I dare to do, if we will dare to follow the trail Humanity+ is blazing. How much hardship would you endure to reverse the fate that has cruelly held us back from the destiny we all deserve? How much effort would you expend to receive the totality of human knowledge? How much blood, sweat, and tears would you sacrifice to conquer death and achieve an infinite life? How much of your belief in antiquated religions that no serve a valid purpose in today’s world are you willing to lay down to become a god yourself? These are the decisions facing every human being alive on the planet today — decisions approaching us at light speed. What will you do with the new opportunities offered by technology that will become a reality in the next ten to fifteen years? Stay where you are? Remain as you are today? Unacceptable and unthinkable! Join with me and dare to do away with the limitations and restraints our ancestors suffered under. Step across that line and become all-knowing! Become divine. Allow Humanity+ tech to position you as an immortal god! Do not be as one who shrinks back and shares the fate of the extinct Neanderthal, existing as a savage for a time, but never achieving your full potential before you are swept into the dust bin of time, gone and forgotten. Technology is advancing toward omnipotence, and we must go with it. We must not allow the Geek Rapture to launch without us. I’m getting on board. Will you join me? Are you with me?”
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