The door dematerialized and Marie began to walk through the opening with a large pizza-shaped box held out in her hands. Before she could fully enter the room, the box unexpectedly seemed to stand still in the air and slide across her arms until it abutted her chest, halting any further progression. She momentarily stumbled on her heels, both surprised and confused by the interruption.
“Is everything alright?” Jules asked in the most pleasant demeanor.
She pushed the box forward with her body, and like a slingshot it flung about 10 feet into the room and hit the mosaic-tiled floor.
“I hope it didn’t say FRAGILE along with URGENT,” Jules jested, trying to diminish some of his secretary’s embarrassment.
Marie stood in the doorway almost in a state of shock, not understanding what had just transpired.
“But,” Marie finally said with confused look on her face, “it seemed to just fly on its own. I really didn’t do anything.”
“No worries,” Jules responded while picking up the package. After placing it on his desk, he traced slowly over the box’s white strip that ran diagonally from one corner to the other, releasing the adhesive binding. The box instantly opened and white packing foam protruded.
“Thank you, Marie,” Jules finally said, curious as to what secret the box held. Without a return address on its front and with only a clear sticker continuously blinking URGENT on it, the package had no indication from where or from whom it originated.
Jules patted down the packing foam and upon contact it collapsed, forming tiny white beads that fell to the bottom of the box. Captivated by the contents, he barely took note of Marie exiting the room or her again mentioning how the box flew through the air of its own volition.
Neither did he notice all the commotion that started to commence around his office building. Flashing red lights, sirens and even a muffled voice on a bullhorn did little to garner his attention. Two fully armed and internationally sanctioned World Order Guards, or WOGs as they were known colloquially, flew by his office windows, each riding their own silver, chariot-like heliocrafts named after the Greek sun god Helios.
The white beads continued to trickle down to the bottom of the box, revealing a beautifully ornate, circular shield. Jules gazed upon it, perplexed by the urgency of this gift. Though clearly recognizing its historical significance, he was at a loss to understand why he needed to see it right away.
A few more WOGs flew by the windows as other sirens and police began to converge on the building.
The intrinsic beauty of the shield was not lost on him as he looked in awe at the craftsmanship of this ancient artifact. The sun surrounded by the earth, moon and a few constellations were engraved in the center of the silver-plated shield. Then, like layers of an onion, different gloriously sculpted scenes encircled this central point. A city at peace lay above the sun and constellations, while a city at war was depicted below it. Surrounding these scenes were three separate engravings of men reaping bushels of corn from a king’s estate, workers plowing a field, and young girls picking grapes along a bountiful vineyard. The following layer tempered its adjacent, inner scenes of serenity. A bull being ripped apart by two lions was engraved prominently at the top while two more pleasant engravings of sheep grazing and young men and women dancing framed each of its lower sides. At its outmost edge, a flowing ocean encircled the inner scenes while a rusted strip of metal wrapped tightly around the edge secured its perimeter.
As the foam continued to collapse, Jules noted a transparent, rectangular strip of plastic lying inconspicuously to the side of the box.
Taking the message card in one hand, he contemplated if it would provide him some clue to its origin or its urgent nature. Jules knew this shield was formerly the prized artifact of Albert Rosenberg’s Greco-Roman collection. But who sent it was a different story. Rumored to be the actual shield of Achilles, written of in Homer’s epic poem The Iliad and usurped by Alexander the Great, Albert prominently exhibited the relic in the center of his massive display.
The card’s perimeter began to blink a bright red. The intensity of its illumination made Jules wince. A succinct message then became apparent on the card. In three large capital letters, the word RUN appeared.
Jules looked at both the front and the back of the card, perplexed at the message. Hoping more was to come, he awaited patiently, trying not to be blinded by the flashing light.
The door to his office dematerialized.
“Marie,” Jules asked, assuming his secretary had entered. “Would you happen to know from where this package here originated? I’m awfully confused—”
Jules looked up, hoping to receive an answer. Instead of seeing his beautiful secretary at the door, a fully assault-ready WOG began to enter. Dressed in a pure black uniform with a New Reality diamond and gold emblem on each shoulder, gray helmet and crimson visor, this anonymous soldier headed towards Jules.
As the WOG began to raise his weapon, only one thought came to Jules’ mind.
RUN!
Chapter_2
Neurono-Tek Neuroscience Center
West Suburbia of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Alex Pella sat behind his cluttered desk working intensely on a metal wristband. With a rose-tinted monocle, known as a microscoper, pressed in front of his right eye, he tinkered diligently on the micro-circuitry of his new invention. Sparks began to fly and a buzzing sound could be heard as he continued to work with his precision-guided instruments.
Usually immaculate in nature, his office looked more like a junk pile than a place of executive affairs. Covering most of the floor space, couches, end tables, and even hanging from the chandelier were wires, circuit boards, cogs, wheels, scraps of metal, and little gadgets everywhere.
The door to his office dematerialized. Alex had no time for intrusions and continued to work despite the interruption. Hoping his visitor might leave on his or her own volition, he kept his head down and continued laboring.
Soon after he and his colleagues discovered the cure for what was known as The Disease, his time became consumed with working on new inventions. With PhDs in both bioengineering and neuroscience, Alex had not only created the massive research center and hospital complex known as Neurono-Tek but had also engineered much of its ground-breaking medical equipment. Instead of running this internationally renowned institution as he diligently had in the past, he now cloistered himself in his office and worked around the clock on his personal inventions.
Alex heard footsteps draw closer to him as he concentrated on his project. Maybe it was his secretary? He hadn’t heard anything from her today.
“I’ll get to it later,” Alex said without looking at his guest. “I’m almost finished here.”
The footsteps drew nearer. Just as he was about to dismiss this unwanted guest once again, a few of his gadgets that were stacked next to him toppled onto his desk, almost hitting his hand.
Alex let his microscoper fall from his eye on his hand. Looking up, he was surprised who he saw entered the office. Usually one to make her presence instantly known, she had remained silent.
“Samantha?” Alex asked, noticing the smirk on her face. “Did my muon accelerator and neutrino adaptor fall by themselves, or did they receive a little help?”
Though absorbed in his work, Alex could not but help laugh to himself. Samantha Mancini was not only his first hire here at Neurono-Tek but a lifelong friend. Though a few years his senior and now in her late 40s, she grew up with him and the two were like brother and sister. In fact, one of his first memories of her went back to the age of two when she knocked over his block tower onto the floor. As he looked down at the inventions now toppled over on his desk, the recollection brought a smile to his face.
“Work, work, work,” she said in a commanding tone. “You don’t even go to board meetings any longer. You don’t seem to care about what’s going on with your business.”
She pointed at him. “Plus. Look at how you are coming to work.”
“What happened to all your designer suits?” she asked. “What happened to your obsession with punctuality, protocol, and the growth of Neurono-Tek? This business could crumble to the ground and it would take you at least a month to know what happened.”
Alex leaned back into his seat and began to recline as if there were nothing else on his mind. Though her voice was strong and commanding, Samantha’s face stood in sharp contrast. With young olive skin, high cheekbones, flirty green eyes, a bright smile and petite build, she made many underestimate both her mental and physical ability.
“I still know what’s going on around here,” Alex responded. “Just because I’m in my office working doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to the outside world.”
Samantha shook her head. “I bet you didn’t even notice that your secretary hasn’t been here for over a week,” she commented skeptically. “Human resources asked me who we should bring in as a replacement. And you know what I told them?”
“Do tell,” Alex responded nonchalantly.
Before answering, she pulled up a chair next to his desk. After swiping the gadgets that were on it onto the floor, she sat down and sternly looked Alex in the eyes.
Alex began to protest but realized it would be useless.
Samantha continued to stare at him. Still with a very youthful appearance, he looked easily 10 years younger than his actual age of 45. Also with olive skin, he was a handsome man with thick, black curly hair, broad shoulders, and strong facial features.
“Listen,” she continued in a serious tone. “I’ve known you since you were born. We grew up together. Our parents were best friends and all worked at The New Reality. We did everything together. When I introduce you to people, how do I do it?”
“I know,” Alex acknowledged.
“I say, ‘This is my brother, Alex Pella.’”
Alex nodded in agreement, knowing she was right. They were like siblings. In fact, because of his exceptional intellectual gifts, he graduated high school three years early and did both his college and PhD training with Samantha. Though Alex obtained two degrees and multiple other proficiencies, they graduated together and had been working together ever since then.
“You were always first in your class,” Samantha continued. “A fantastic athlete, popular among the women, and the best businessman I’ve even known. You’ve changed. Ever since we discovered the cure for The Disease and dispersed it around the world, you became a hermit. Even your fiancée Marissa says she barely sees you any longer.”
Samantha’s pride and love for her dear friend were clear in her voice. Once a more cynical person with a cold facade, she had been humbled by The Disease and the unwonted human suffering it caused throughout the planet. Instead of harping on all the negativity in the world, she now appreciated the love and positivity it had to offer.
Alex kept focused, concentrating on the reason for his abrupt change in behavior. Despite Samantha’s insistence there was something wrong, he certainly had appropriate reasons for his actions.
As Samantha continued to question him, his mind turned to other, more pertinent topics such as his current invention and more importantly, The New Reality.
He was still aghast at how The New Reality biotagged the entire earth’s population in a massive surveillance program, and he knew something had to be done to combat this injustice, along with all the other blatant injustices they were perpetuating. No one’s civil liberties were safe and nothing remained sacred. Using the biotags, the company could not only identify a person’s exact location, but they could also ascertain their mental state of mind. Because the brain created consciousness at a subatomic, quantum level, the biotags could integrate in the anatomic portion of the brain that generated a person’s consciousness known as the posterior cingulate cortex. Though The New Reality could not exactly read a person’s thoughts, they could certainly detect ominous quantum field fluctuations or vibrations that could signify trouble to their global New World Order.
He wished he could tell her his future plans. But Alex knew he couldn’t jeopardize either her safety or the outcome of his mission—at least for now. Instead, he changed the subject, “So what about my old secretary, Dawn? What happened to her?”
“I knew you didn’t know what was going on around here,” Samantha chastised. “Well, a few days after she got married last month—a wedding that you missed—she became pregnant.”
Alex shook his head. “I assume she did not have a New Reality sanctioned license.”
“Of course not. It was her honeymoon. She didn’t even know that she was pregnant until WOGs entered the building here last week and escorted her off to a NewREMA containment camp.”
I really am losing touch, Alex thought. The New Reality arrested my secretary right outside the office here, and I didn’t even realize what happened?
“Once the fetus started making red blood cells,” Samantha explained, “The New Reality picked up another life force and took her into a containment camp as a result of her defiance to The New World Order.”
Alex remained mentally focused, trying to control his outrage and hatred towards The New Reality and their NewREMA camps. Because of the countries around the world’s unfathomable deficit spending and insurmountable debt to The New Reality, the company had called in their loans in the most inauspicious time when The Disease had wreaked havoc across the planet. When they were unable to repay even a pittance of their loans, The New Reality usurped their sovereignty, creating a New World Order that fundamentally changed the planet.
Personal freedoms and individual thought had become a relic of the past. Central planning, massive regulations, and insurmountable taxation had made the accumulation of personal wealth almost impossible. Those bankers and businessmen who ran The New Reality became richer by the day, while the rest of the planet’s population wallowed in servitude and fought for the economic scraps that were left behind.
The middle class had been eradicated and an even playing field had been created for everyone except the extremely rich bankers and businessmen that essentially controlled everything—now, well over 99 percent of the world’s population shared in the same economic misery. Those dissidents who were brave enough to speak up about this new police state created by The New Reality or those who broke its rules, were immediately escorted to a New Reality Emergency Management Agency camp, NewREMA for short, for “reeducation.” Even Alex’s previously massively successful company, Neurono-Tek, neared a financial breaking point whereby staying in business would soon prove economically impossible.
“Can you believe it?” Samantha said. “Taken away even though she was legally married?”
Unfortunately, Alex could believe it. What transpired over the three years since the worldwide viral pandemic had been eradicated was a complete travesty. It reminded him of when the Eastern Europeans were freed from the brutality of the Nazis after WWII, only to be enslaved by the Soviets under Joseph Stalin.
“It’s a sin,” Alex answered. Again trying to change the subject, he asked, “So what brings me the pleasure of your company today? Or is this just a social visit?”
Samantha crossed her arms. “No,” she responded matter-of-factly. “It’s Thursday morning. The time we meet every week for over the past five years to discuss Neurono-Tek’s financial numbers. Plus, you sent me a memo last week to come at 9:00 a.m. because you wanted to leave early for your aero-bike race.”
“Yes,” Alex said raising his hand with a distinct recollection of the fact. “Our business meeting to discuss the numbers. Hopefully they are better than last week. With the heavy fines we were recently issued for the excessive rainwater runoff from our Neurono-Tek complex, we were almost in the red.”
“Well, I have good news and bad news for you then,” Samantha interrupted. “First let me ask you one thing. Is red your favorite color?”
Alex begrudgingly shoo
k his head no.
“Well then,” she reconsidered. “I guess I only have bad news and more bad news for you.”
Before Samantha could continue, the door behind her dematerialized, revealing a hulking man in a blue Neurono-Tek uniform and matching cap. Resembling a bulldog, he carried a square box in his hands and stood at attention waiting to be allowed in the room.
“Dr. Pella,” he barked, “I have a package sent specifically to you labeled URGENT.”
“Phil, come on,” in Alex waved. “Put it here,” he said trying to clear some room, “on my desk.”
He marched over to the desk and placed it down robotically as if he were made of tin and needed oiling.
“Hi, Phil,” Samantha greeted, happy to see him.
Despite his Neanderthal appearance and gruff demeanor, Phil was a highly trusted Neurono-Tek employee. Held in the utmost regard among all personnel, he was extremely well liked. His roughness softened outside of work, and he frequently joined Alex, Samantha, and other company executives or scientists in his free time for a casual drink. On the clock, he took his job extremely seriously.
Before Alex could open up the box, Phil held up his hand. “Sir, I would prefer if I would open it. I’m not sure what contraband could lie inside.”
Not wanting to insult him, Alex answered, “Please.”
Phil ran his finger across the box top and patted down the packing foam that emerged when it opened. Once collapsed into small beads, Phil gazed in amazement at its contents. Though stoic by nature, his hardened facade cracked with a hint of a smile.
The Hidden Reality (Alex Pella, #2) Page 3