A Tale Of Doings

by Philip Quense

  “Invasively blunt might be a better word choice.” Doc Gus sounded like he was apologizing for Alejandra’s inappropriateness.

  “There are many forms of honesty that we at Orns practice. We see people and reality for what they are.”

  “Use them for what they are,” Patrick muttered so the guide wouldn’t hear. Paul kicked his ankle to keep him quiet. It wasn’t the time or the place to argue.

  Their tour guide continued, “Sadly, there are many ways that society likes to ignore reality or make it more comfortable. At Orns, we don’t make such excuses here; human-doings shall be used. We exploit everyone equally. Here are some examples.” She held her hand out and motioned for the group to follow her into another room. “We recognize that men and women are different physically, mentally, and emotionally. We recognize that people from different backgrounds respond differently to stimuli. We believe in scientifically evaluating and recognizing differences and marketing to those differences as well as to the similarities. We look at the brain, the heart, the body, and the soul.” David was disgusted by the way of thinking.

  “So you do attribute ‘scientific’ merit to the ‘soul’ theory?” Doc Gus said. His voice had an “I told you so” tone. “Interesting.”

  The guide glared at him with her sharp eagle eyes. “I appreciated our discussions at the conference, but I don’t mean to credit a being with a soul.”

  “You used the term in you discourser, if I recall,” the monk said. David was grateful for Doc Gus changing the subject.

  “A term used to define the unknown and undiscovered motivators in a human-doing. We haven’t quantified anything as a soul, which is still on the back shelf. Can’t make money on something you can’t see.”

  “Back to your comment about freedom amounts,” Gayle interjected, and David groaned. “Your point, Alejandra? After such a rude question, I might add.” Gayle played the abused customer very well, and disdain lingered in the air when she finished speaking. Alejandra even gulped.

  Gayle began to sing a haunting tune: “I was born in a country / Where employees admire their great working heroes, / To stand upon mountains and always be winners / And never give less than their aaaalllll. / I once met an old man who told me great stories, / Of legends who with full heart played for the glory. / To be lifted up by that promotion in their triumph / On the fields of success, / Where owned become managers. / May the best company win, / Win in the end. On the fields of glory.” Gayle’s voice lowered to a guttural warning as she finished the haunting tune.

  The escort gulped and continued with her business. “The point is that truthfulness and not facades matter. And I don’t care if it’s socially unacceptable to ask certain questions. In reality, if you’re close to buying yourselves, then you two might consider becoming managers here.”

  “You do love stealing managers,” David said bitterly.

  “Talent requisition, David, darling.” The red lips puckered sensually. “We have very rewarding retirement packages for successful people. We offer power, freedom, sex, entertainment, security. Anything a heart could truly desire. But if you are not close to buying yourselves, then the best you could apply for would be an internship or secure buyout package with the hopes of promotion later. You see, it matters, especially as you take this tour.”

  And so the group entered Orns. The tour began.

  Chapter 38

  Dancing History

  Alejandra explained in a voice of silk, “The entire tour package will take three days.”

  David raised his hand. “Gosh, that seems like a lot of time to be away from work.”

  “That is the bare bones. The minimum. But of course they can be extended.” In her sultry intellectual voice, she broke the days into highlights. She said, “Today you get a couple hours of introductions, a party full of entertainment in the evening, and then in the morning you begin the selected tours.”

  “What are our tour options?” Gayle asked.

  “Oh, there are several options, and you and your date can pick.”

  “That is super specific,” Doc Gus said sarcastically. “Tease us with some details, darling.”

  “Good try. Not going to spoil the surprise!”

  “We’ll be lucky if we pick the option that Grandpa Greg will be involved in,” David had told Gayle earlier. He didn’t believe it was possible. But maybe with some luck. Luck isn’t something to rely on. Neither is hope, he thought sourly.

  Doc Gus said, “I hear the tours are quite luxurious. Is it not?”

  “Correct again.” Alejandra swirled her red dress and said, “Extravagant luxury stimulates the mind. Considering investment options and career changes is grueling work.”

  “Is there a tour timeline or flowchart to look at?” David asked.

  “How wonderful—this one is an engineer.” Alejandra laughed.

  “Nerd alert,” Doc Gus said, than looked at David. “I mean that kindly,”

  “The days are broken down like this: one day to look through package options, and then by the end of today, you pick your first tour.”

  “Is this really all free?” David felt like he brought an elephant into the room with such a dumb question.

  “Nothing in life is free. You’re required to pay for two or three specific tours on the second and third day.”

  “How much?” David said uncertainly, then whispered to Gayle, “Not sure if our freedom vaults are frozen.”

  “Only your soul!” Mistress Alejandra said, glaring sternly. David and Gayle gulped apprehensively. They exchanged a glance; her eyes shone with a dubious nature. The room became tense.

  “Being good doings and all, I assumed we should know the costs,” David answered the mistress before whispering again to Gayle. “How will we pay?” He glanced back at Alejandra apologetically.

  The room’s silence was shattered by silvery laughter. “Oh, on my intelligence! Gustavus, the looks on their faces!” Giggling, she turned her cheerfulness to the nervous couple. “Orns doesn’t operate like baser companies. By your soul, I mean Orns covers everything, all corporeal costs.”

  “What a relief,” David moaned.

  The mistress explained further, “Knowing that your being will be enraptured by our mission and your life’s work will become entangled with our combined efforts. Just sit back and enjoy the journey. When the tours are done, a freedom consultant will be available.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Gayle whispered. David and Gayle smiled in relief. A confrontation with an angry accountant would end their effort prematurely.

  Later, during the introductory presentations, David pried one of the gray-clad guides who assisted Alejandra with a question: “What are the specific tours like? Your boss was tight lipped.” Curiosity was eating at him.

  The woman giggled in delight. “You’re about to embark on a total life bonus. Spectacular, powerful, and insightful. Specialized tours leave the standard observatory decks and go behind the scenes of the major productions!”

  “Please tell me Storyworld is…”

  “Claro que si. Including options such as visiting Medieval Storyworld or training at the battle games arenas or learning at the indoctrination facility or observing the relationship pleasure palaces. And much more. So thrilling, exciting.”

  “Stock take me now,” David excitedly told the woman. Swaggering over to the pasty table, a ginormous tower of deserts, he said to Gayle, “I got insider info: the Storyworld clubbers will be so incredibly jealous.”

  Putting down a sugary delicacy she had been studying, she asked, “What are you ranting about?”

  “The tour! I think we will be able to go behind the scenes. Gayle, we must opt to go behind the scenes at Storyworld. Please?”

  “David-23,” she chastised him sternly, but not before he noticed her smile at his childish giddiness. In a low voice, she reminded him, “Curb your creative side. Rein it in.”

  The walked toward a fountain of drinks, colors flashing in the presentation wait
ing room. “But…”

  “Not here to invest.” She handed him a diamond-crusted cup to dip in the fountain. “ Just the opposite: we need to find the missing slaves and rescue them.”

  “Ohh, try the berry one.” He took a sip, savoring the explosion of flavor, before saying, “And figure out a way to free ourselves,” David said grimly. “I’ll never be able to brag to my clubbing friends about backstage passes to Storyworld if I’m terminated, dead.” He shuddered and looked around for invisible monsters hidden in the room’s upper eaves.

  “Come, come. The break is over.” The woman in gray corralled the group back into a large presentation room.

  The beginning of the investment tours was a whirlwind of activity, taking the better part of the first day. After the intro, the group was delivered to the hosts at a magnificent palace, where the visitors’ lofts were. A gray-suited man declared, before leaving them to their own vices, “Take respite and consider the plethora of investment options before you.”

  “David, we are queens in this world,” Gayle declared, plopping down on a luxurious couch in their suite.

  “King and queen,” he corrected her. “I could get used to this sales journey into the prolific world of Orns.”

  “Donk, is it always like this?” Gayle asked. “We were treated royally…”

  “Catered to throughout the day, as each new product guide demonstrated to us the depth of opportunity and breadth of creativity at Orns.” David was beginning to shed some of his initial ingrained fears and preconceived notions about Orns. “Doc Gus, this place isn’t the place of slavery and ruthlessness I thought, but one where human needs are uniquely catered to.”

  Gayle pushed open the large glass windows that opened onto a marble balcony; the light poured in. She said, “I disagree with David, but I do see that dreams and creativity are made into reality. Donk, is it always this nice?”

  Doc Gus sat cross-legged on the floor, crossed his arms, and touched his fingers in a stance of meditation to his forehead. “My employees, the tours are designed to lull visitors into agreement with Orns policies and workplace strategies.”

  David was considering his new perspective as a burly ape of a man in a gray jacket knocked on the door. The three could see the man with the others from their party waiting in the hallway via the camera display near the door.

  “Come in,” Gayle shouted.

  The man showed the rest of the party into the magnificent suite. “Good day. We will summon you later.”

  “Well, well, if you guys aren’t lounging around,” Patrick said as he entered.

  The newcomers explored the suite before sitting in the lounge area. Three rooms—one for the guards, one for the romantic couple, and one for the Mindmonk—were attached to a luxurious lounge. Each room had a round blue carved and stained wooden balcony that looked out over the Medieval Storyworld dome. The Orns staff referred to the contained Storyworld environment as the “knight bubble.” The varying landscapes below them were impressive and scenic.

  Gayle found an agenda on the security tablet by the door. “Look here.” Patrick and David joined her. “Seems we are invited to an evening of shows and live entertainment, some of the best that could be offered in Xchange.”

  “Such extravagance. This is what it must feel like to be free,” David said.

  “They barely fed us,” Patrick complained.

  “There are instructions in each of the bedrooms,” Paul said, his voice muffled through the doorway.

  “We call them sleeping cells,” the captain corrected as he searched the room for cameras and spy devices. He had several black mini speakers already crunching in his fist.

  “We are instructed to prepare for an evening of dinner and entertainment,” Paul added.

  “It says as much on this agenda,” Gayle agreed pleasantly. “Pat, there might be snacks in the freezing machine over there.” She pointed at the obvious location for a food machine.

  Pat stumbled around the dining area fruitlessly. David walked over and activated the wall machines until they opened for the Tri-Coalition. “Do you not have basic appliances on your side of the Divide?”

  “Just ’cause our machines are different doesn’t make us barbarians, David.” Patrick punched him in the arm between biting a spiced chicken morsel.

  “Fair enough.” David relented his teasing and helped Patrick work the drink dispenser.

  In their downtime the group whispered about options and methods of finding the missing slaves. The captain continually checked the room for sound bugs and removed several more to protect their privacy. The group knew they needed to be careful; they were in the wolf’s lair. As the divergent group related, something unexpected happened, something new. Friendship built on respect began to kindle. David did not casually relate with many people in his normal life, and it turned out to be a foreign but delightful experience. Most unexpected given the circumstances.

  A lower-level Orns employee knocked on the door around five in the evening and requested their presence at dinner; he indicated stiffly, “Suitable attire is provided in the suite. Be prompt. The evening begins in an hour.” The gray-suited man disappeared after delivering his message.

  “Can we go?” Patrick asked, as the other began to prepare.

  “Don’t be a fool—guards aren’t invited,” the captain said, a bit roughly.

  “But the honored investors and their mentor, Doc Gus, have been sent fancy clothing options for the evening,” David teased Patrick. “I won’t tell your wife that you missed out on all the parties.”

  Doc Gus was formal in nature, so he chose an extra-elaborate flowing golden robe with twisted golden lace. David wanted functionality and elected to wear a synthetic black left sleeveless V-neck top and comfortable white business slacks, a very fashionable outfit in the upper class. David and Doc Gus waited in the lounge room for Gayle until she emerged.

  “Waiting on a woman?” Paul asked inquisitively as he came in from the balcony. “Quite a view.”

  “Never heard that saying,” Doc Gus and David both said.

  “Waiting on a woman,” Paul sang. “It is a classic back home.”

  “They probably outlawed country music, Pa,” Patrick said from the balcony.

  “Singing is unproductive,” David explained.

  “And I don’t guess that I’ve been anywhere she hasn’t made us late…” Paul’s soothing, casual voice trailed off as Gayle opened the door to her room.

  “Ready to go?” She was oblivious to David’s stunned and admiring stare. A queen of the evening. She wore a long blue gown that glimmered tastefully as it clung to her. The dress modestly covered everything up to her neck, including her green-branded arm, but did not hide her form.

  In an attempt to say anything, since he was briefly lost for words, David said, “Gayle, your tattoo? Don’t you need a sleeveless?”

  “No worries, mister, the representative explained that all investors can cover their brands during the touring.”

  “Oh, um.” He felt dumb and speechless. David’s heart melted and filled with lust. His desire raged inside him when he beheld her.

  Patrick walked into the room, bowed before Gayle and then slapped David on the back. “Pa and I will be waiting here, country style.” At the confused looks, he said, “Shotgun chaperons. Blah. Better treat your date well, or we’ll wallop you.”

  “Date or fate.” She giggled. “Let’s go pick a tour out to save your families. She was a bright blue flower with golden hair spun into a bun. A rebellious yellow strand dangled down the side of her noble brow. She smiled, and the room lit up.

  “Shall we?” Formal hood down, allowing his luxuriously combed hair and trimmed brown and silver lined beard to show.

  “Of course. Donk, lead the way.”

  David stepped aside to let his two dinner companions walk past. He was about to follow when strong fingers clasped his arm, holding him back. Patrick, dressed in a simple white athletic shirt and purple shorts, had a serio
us expression. He motioned to David to pause and listen. “Do you see that woman, David?”

  “Yes, how could you not? I can’t stop looking at her.”

  “Do you want her badly?”

  “Why, of course. You already heard about how she and I are dating. I own this relationship.” He hoped it would always be true.

  “Do you see any problems with your relationship?” Patrick continued, and David was a bit offended.

  “Rhetorical much?” David asked. But he decided to humor the missionary anyway because the grip on his arm was tight. “If this whole endeavor doesn’t go over well with Nnect, then the PPRE project success won’t save Gayle and I, and we may both be reprocessed.” He tugged away from his peer. “I may lose her forever. That terrifies me. I can’t get the impending doom out of my head.”

  “Do you really want to be with her? Do you want her to want you the way you want her?”

  “Yes, yes. Patrick, you have a wife, and she is hot and sexy. I want that intense intimacy.”

  Bam. David’s head rang from the backhand that pushed him rigidly against the wall. The blow was hard enough to shock him and hurt but not hard enough to knock him out. David responded by raising his arm to strike, but something in Patrick’s eyes stopped him cold.

  “By the human stock, what was that for? I complimented your choice of woman, stockhole.”

  “David, you’re a selfish little man that thinks only with his dick and his wallet.” He held a finger to his lips. “But since I’m growing to like you, I have two lessons for you to practice tonight.”

  “I am not little. I am average height.”

  “An expression regarding your maturity and not your stature.”

  “I don’t need your advice or your literate smugness.”

  “Advice.” The men looked down the empty hallway, where the others had rounded a bend. He shook his head. “You need it more than you know.”

  David recalled how obsessed Tara was with husband. He had wanted that. So he decided to listen. Could it hurt learning some tips from another culture? he thought.