by Lee Alan
“Good afternoon. Welcome to the Clear Water Estate. Can I help you?” Despite the polite tone, his martial bearing shouted ex–forces. He watched her intently, alert, but seemingly unconcerned.
“Hi. My name is Anna Price, and I’m a student at Scottsville Community College. I’ve been given this address by,” she paused, not wishing to dump the blame onto the college for her own deceit. “Well, by a friend. I was told a Mr. Young is staying here.”
The guard frowned. “Look, miss. I’m not sure who put you up to this, but Clear Water is a private estate.”
What did you expect? She thought. But something inside her pushed aside the sensible conclusion, though. “Professor Young invited me for private tutoring,” she lied, her face a picture of sincerity. You crazy bitch! Her responsible inner voice protested.
“Just tell him Anna Price is here to discuss her assignment,” she added, her smile frozen with effort.
The guard looked surprised. “Odd. Mr. Young hasn’t left any instructions to expect a visitor today.”
Despite her disappointment, at least the response proved the address was correct. He did live here. Maybe he’s the son of someone rich, she mused.
“I’m sure, if you just ask, he will confirm it,” Anna said, folding her arms to signal her intention to stay until he did something.
The guard looked flustered for the first time. He was obviously more at home with shouting in the face of a six–foot marine recruit, rather than a determined, young woman. After several tense moments of twitching his neat mustache in contemplation, he picked up a small phone and talked quietly into the handset. Although Anna couldn’t make out the exact words, she heard the phrase, “Are you sure, sir?” After returning the handset to the receiver, the guard looked surprised by the outcome. “Mr. Young will see you, Miss Price. Please follow the drive up to the main house and he will greet you personally at the main reception area.”
Anna smiled sweetly and strode back to her car, hardly believing the ploy had worked. Before she could consider the implications any further, the huge gates opened.
If her tired little car looked out of place driving around Paradise Valley, it looked like a wart on the face of Venus, as it spluttered up the driveway of the Clear Water Estate. Unlike many of the other grounds she’d passed en route, the vegetation here looked very different. Instead of lush, green lawns, a sea of cacti dominated. The desert plants had been arranged into sweeping, circular designs, rather than the random patterns of nature. Each display was a magical array of colors from deep, dusky purples to bright, virulent yellows. Mixed with the unusual foliage was a varied collection of sculptures and columns. Roman gods seemed to be a common theme on display. But unlike the cold, white marble on view in museums, these had been painted in the most vivid colors, giving them a super realistic quality. She marveled at the perfection of the human forms and even stopped the car alongside one particularly beautiful goddess. The painted lady appeared to be lost in contemplation at the still butterfly resting on her outstretched finger. Anna found the whole effect nothing short of breath–taking.
The paved driveway carried on uphill for a quarter mile, until it levelled onto another incredible view. Before her sprawled a structure she’d not seen the likes of: a dome, but not solid, like the roof of a cathedral or a mosque. It was more like the interwoven branches of a tree—a great living tree. It was pure white in color and streaked with green lines, which gave a stark, yet not unattractive contrast. Light twinkled off what she guessed must be glass set between each section of the remarkable building.
There were obvious differences from the wider estate. Surrounding the structure, lush vegetation thrived—greener and less adapted to the desert. A series of magnificent water features flowed among flower beds and pathways. It looked like a vision of fertility, but, at the same time, an essential part of the environment, rather than an attempt to dominate it.
Unable to contain her wonder, she drove toward what looked like the front of a massive arched entrance. It reminded her of the domed palaces of India and other eastern designs she’d seen in magazines. Anna followed the driveway around a miniature lake and observed a delicate, curving arc of pure, white stone spanning across it. The waters underneath were still, reflecting every last detail of the dome. The stunning optical illusion made it appear as though she gazed upon two palaces. One, living in the bright, blue Arizona sky, and another residing in a darker nether world.
She parked outside the arched entrance, which, on closer inspection, could be seen to bristle with life, including butterflies fluttering among the flowers beds surrounding the slender supports of the structure. Bird song filled the air, while she complemented the tranquil sounds of trickling water.
Trying to focus on the matter at hand, Anna opened the station wagon door, while mentally rehearsing her reasoning for coming here. To demand he look at your assignment like a crazy stalker? Her conscience interjected. She expected that he would reject her, probably accompanied by a curt reminder of her contribution to his misfortune.
“What the hell am I doing?” She muttered.
The entrance looked devoid of anything resembling human activity. It was more like the doorway to a UFO, or the long–forgotten opening of an ancient tomb. The doors, themselves, if one could call them that, seemed to be a further extension of the branched pattern covering the rest of the structure. Not a sliver of steel, or, a single concrete girder could be seen.
As she neared, the two halves of the entrance parted, allowing a large, red admiral butterfly to wing into the open. The naturalistic theme did not stop outside, but continued inward. It all looked so alien; a small fountain sat in the middle of a lobby area, with benches placed around it for people to admire the view. Again, flowerbeds added patches of intense color to the astonishing picture. Moving inside, there was a definite drop in temperature—not the icily–artificial tang of air conditioning, but like a gentle breeze on a summer’s day, ebbing and flowing past the skin on her uncovered arms. The glass panels high above projected dappled shade inside, reminding her of a stroll through a wooded glade. The sensation felt soothing and Anna forgot her mission for a moment. She closed her eyes and listened to the fountain.
“I did the same when I walked through that door for the first time,” a male voice said.
Anna turned to find Professor Young sitting on a bench near the fountain. He’d been just out of her line of sight as she’d entered.
It struck her what little resemblance he bore to the nervous individual she’d encountered at the college. He wore white from head to toe in a simple tee shirt without design and equally unadorned linen pants. A quizzical look on his handsome face conveyed perplexed interest at her unexpected appearance.
Anna struggled to give a coherent greeting, at first, her senses were so overwhelmed. “Nice place,” she said.
The understated description brought a smile to Professor Young’s face—a warm gesture she couldn’t help but return. An awkward silence followed, while her mind raced to find a plausible explanation for her unannounced visit.
“I heard you’re unwell?” She asked after a moment. He flushed at the question, betraying his discomfort. “Professor Young. Listen, if…” she began.
“Call me Corey. I’m not at college, anymore.”
“Listen, Professor… Corey, I came because of the other day when, well, we got off on the wrong foot. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened,” she paused. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” The words tumbled out of her.
His cheeks reddened further in response. Here you go again, Anna: just harass the poor guy at home, why don’t you?
“Also, I hope the reason you’re not going to class anymore doesn’t have something to do with what happened,” she added.
Corey’s expression softened at the statement. Wow, this guy really is the sensitive type, she thought.
“And I need my ass
ignment grade,” she added, changing her approach.
There was another long pause, and his expression was unreadable. “You’d better take a seat, then,” he said finally, patting the seat next to him.
Relief washed over her. A thousand put–downs had run through her mind, ranging from asking why her new professor couldn’t grade the damn paper, to flat out, “I’m calling the cops, loony toon!”
After taking the document from her bag, she crossed the short distance to the bench overlooking the stunning water feature. While she did so, a fat bumblebee buzzed past them before settling on a spotted, blue orchid. She handed the neat paperwork over, surprised at how strongly she felt right then. The whole experience verged on the surreal. Here she was, handing her assignment to a strange man she’d just borderline stalked, who lived like the king of the hippies in a gigantic greenhouse. It wouldn’t have surprised her right then if a flying pig floated overhead.
“Would you like something to drink?” Corey asked politely. “Tea, coffee, juice?” The mundane nature of the question broke her dreamlike spell.
“Water would be great, please,” she replied, as the long drive had left her parched.
Rather than rising to fetch the requested beverage as expected, Corey picked out a small device from his breast pocket.
“Could I have an iced tea and a glass of mineral water for my guest, please, George?” He spoke into the gadget.
“Certainly, sir. Where would you like it?” An oddly stilted voice replied.
“By the fountain at the main entrance.”
“Coming right up.” The accent sounded so strange that Anna couldn’t place it.
With the refreshments ordered, Corey picked up the assignment.
“You’re going to look at it now?” She asked in surprise, having expected a vague promise to read it at some point in the future.
“No time like the present,” he replied, already reading.
After a few minutes, he paused and gazed out at the surrounding scenery. “Truth,” he said aloud, as if testing the word. He repeated this mental process several times as he immersed himself in the text. On one occasion, he looked directly at Anna, causing her tummy to flutter.
Suddenly, his contemplation was interrupted by a mechanical, swishing sound. Alarmed, Anna turned to face the oncoming noise, only to be greeted by what at first appeared to be a marching child dressed in playful plastic armour. Her perception, however, quickly changed to recognize the newcomer as a robot. It had the form of a human, but with a synthetic head inlaid with two unnaturally large, oval eyes. The body seemed to be a moving collection of interlocking white panels. Beneath its polished torso, gears moved in rhythm, propelling its legs and creating the unusual noise she’d heard. The remarkable machine carried a single silver tray with two glasses sitting on top.
Here comes that flying pig, she thought, calming her thumping heart.
The futuristic waiter stopped in front of them. Corey remained deep in thought, barely seeming to notice he was being served by an extra from a sci–fi movie.
“Ahem. Your iced tea, sir,” the robot said, its voice the same stilted tone she’d heard coming from the communication device.
Corey took the iced tea from the tray, and then took a sip of the light brown liquid. Anna watched how his lips touched the lip of the rim.
“And madam?” It asked, swiveling on the spot to face her. She took the glass and thanked the robot awkwardly, feeling like a cave woman seeing a wheel for the first time. “You are most welcome,” it replied flatly, the huge eyes remaining on her. “Men are like children, don’t you think? You have to give them a nudge to get their attention,” it asked after a pause.
Anna found herself at a loss for words, not having engaged in conversation with inanimate objects before. Corey returned his attention, noticing her reluctance.
“I’m trying to teach George to engage in gender–specific conversations,” he explained. “It’s quite clever, really, that he recognized you as a female and picked an appropriate line of conversation. The trouble is that poor, old Georgie doesn’t seem to get the idea that he’s a boy bot.”
“Poor George,” she agreed, still finding it a little too weird to converse with the thing.
Having performed its task, “George,” the gender–confused robot, left them alone again, its legs swishing back and forth as it returned to other duties. Anna turned once again to her mysterious professor, to find him reading the last page of the assignment. Her stomach tightened with anticipation.
After he’d finished, Cory laid the work beside him and looked Anna straight in the eye, his expression unknowable. Trying to disguise her discomfortingly intense thoughts, she took a sip of water. The liquid felt refreshing as it ran down her throat.
“Well, it’s obvious to me,” he said, at last, with a boyish grin materializing on his face.
Anna waited for the inevitable put–down to follow. She imagined it would probably go something like, “It’s obvious to me that you can’t write, so quit wasting both of our time and get the fuck out of here!”
Instead, Corey stunned her by saying, “You should be a journalist.”
She blinked at the handsome teacher, as if he’d suggested she could be the Pope. “Journalist?” She repeated.
“Of course,” he replied, his grin widening. “It’s a no–brainer really. ‘Using the Written Word to Forward the Cause of Truth.’ If that’s not a description of someone who wants to be a journalist, I don’t know what is.”
Of course! It makes perfect sense, she thought, stunned by the simplicity of the concept. Even as a teenager, she’d wanted to tell tales of truth and open eyes to harsh realities.
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of it?” She exclaimed, and, without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him in gratitude. He smelled good, like the outdoors, mixed with something vaguely sweet and inviting. Sensing she’d gone a little too far, Anna pulled away. “Thank you,” she said.
“You’re very welcome. It’s not every day that I get to help someone decide what they want to do with their life,” he replied, seemingly pleased by her obvious joy.
“Now, could you please tell me why you are living in a giant UFO? I keep wondering if this is all some freaky dream,” she asked after enjoying the moment a second longer. He laughed—a deep, unguarded sound, which she enjoyed. “And don’t tell me you’re house sitting, because I’m not buying it!”
“Okay, okay,” he replied, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I own it—well, my company does, anyhow.”
“Holy shit!” She responded in amazement. “Did you inherit all this?”
“No. My father worked as a grocery clerk for thirty years, and Mom was a typist. This is all my own mess.” He looked slightly embarrassed by the size of the implication.
“How? Sorry, but, if you don’t mind me saying so, I’m guessing you’re not the best–paid college professor of all time? If you are, though, where do I sign up?”
He smiled again. “Well, I volunteer at the college,” he began. “Actually, I build something like solar panels.”
“Are you about to tell me you’ve invented solar panels?” She asked, already cringing at the stupidity of the question.
Corey gave another of one those deep chuckles. “No—that would make me about ninety years old,” he teased. “Solar panels were a great step forward at the time, but they didn’t take into account the most efficient ways of producing energy. That’s where my company comes in.”
“So you make a newer kind of solar panel?”
“Yep—sort of. Here, let me show you,” he said, offering his hand. She took it, and he led them toward the nearest bed of flowers. Bluebells made up this particular arrangement. “You’re looking at the most efficient way of capturing sunlight on the planet.” He gestured at the pale, blue buds.
“Plants?”
“Exactly. Nature evolve
d them over millions of years to show us the most efficient way. I just found a way to copy the cells artificially.”
“So it’s your invention?” she asked, surprised by his modesty.
“Yup. It’s not as complicated as it sounds, though. I’m not a proper scientist, really—just a tech journalist with the Phoenix Globe who got fed up with writing about the achievements of other people. I figured, why not me?” He raised his iced tea in a silent salute. “Believe me, the results are amazing: our panels produce twenty times the energy of the last generation ones. They’re much lighter and thinner, which opens up all sorts of applications.”
“You sold your invention?”
“Sometimes I wished I had—sit back, get fat, and collect the dollars.” He took another swig of tea. “I did it the hard way, though, like a stupid asshole, and set up my own company. I’ve been selling to governments and corporations world–wide for the past six years.”
It started to make sense, although huge gaps remained in the story. “And the teaching?” She asked, wanting to know why someone so wealthy would choose to devote time to a community college.
“I miss the writing side of my life, and I’ve always wanted to teach.” He sighed then. “And it’s a good thing that I’m a better CEO than a teacher, or you’d be passing me in the gutter on your way to class.”
“That’s not true,” she replied. Something was still bothering her. “Still, why such a grand building? I mean, it’s beyond amazing. It’s… well, unbelievable.”
“It does seem a bit much for one single man, doesn’t it?” He agreed. “To quote my PR team…” He cleared his throat theatrically. “Clear Water isn’t just my home—it’s a showcase of what our future could be. Where man and nature live as one, rather than the current destructive spiral.” He pressed on more seriously with a growing passion for the subject. “If we can make a place like this work in the middle of a desert without sucking in all the resources around it, then we can do it anywhere.”