Q

Blog Stats

  • 203,970 digital attaboys!

RSS The Onion

  • An error has occurred; the feed is probably down. Try again later.

RSS Gamasutra

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 43 other followers

First Contact

Ocotillo Research Facility, Tempe, Arizona USA – November 1st, 2001 08:43:47.263 AM

“I’m beyond nervous, Mr Gates, the Patriot Act was signed in record time, and now they’re going to be here looking for answers,” Amy Newton said, as as she shifted in the seat in the large conference room.

“Amy, by the time I was your age, I’d just made my first billion, and had already changed the world in ways which defied my own wildest imagination. I’d say it was about your age I was introduced to things that outright scared me, amazed me, and made me realize why we’re here. Embracing this all led me to you. Being honest, As hard as this is to admit, I have to tell you I’m a tad bit envious of where I think things will go for you. I have no doubt that you’re the right woman for this,” he said.

“I feel so…,” Amy began saying, succumbing to her insecurity.

“Stop, Amy. You do what you feel is right for these discussions today. Whatever you choose, I’m in full support of it,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr Gates, that means a lot,” she said.

“Mr Gates,” an assistant said, “They’ve arrived in the staging area.”

“Tell them we’re on our way,” Bill Gates said, looking at Amy, “Are you ready for this?”

She looked at him with a tinge of insecurity, “I am,” she said


Ten minutes later, they arrived at the south gate of the facility, where nearly 50 men and women, now including senators and congressmen and a couple of businessmen. Notable among the attendees was a personal friend and acquaintances of Bill Gates’s, Alan Trefler owner and CEO of Pega Systems, Mark Rein, owner of Unreal Entertainment. and Senator John McCain.

Bill Gates walked into the staging area, from the outside the building was made to appear like a high end expensive strip mall with half the stores closed in a location which was poorly placed in an economically challenged student area with extremely dis-interesting shops. All of it optimally designed specifically to reduce the volume of foot traffic and customers in the area.

To the curious who might see a full parking lot, the shops were all designed to be as lacking in customer appeal as possible. Annoying colors in one specifically chosen to repulse the customer, poorly laid out design in another with many overpriced breakables inconveniently placed in another to encourage someone who might visit not to come back again. And a high end, very expensive Ethiopian food restaurant which had a menu with nothing but pictures and no words on it.

If you were invited to tour and/or be considered for work at this facility, you were expected to show up shop you were told to go to, and a an expected protocol you were expected to abide by. If you couldn’t follow the rules at the first location or couldn’t remember the shop you were supposed to go through the protocol, you were simple refused entry and the personnel were instructed to play dumb and refuse continued entry.

If successful, from there, you’d be invited into a backroom which would have an elevator and stairway leading to the staging area.

The staging area was opulently decorated, making it very clear who the benefactor was, and it was also extremely well guarded, with armed guards at every entrance, seven in all, and a central security command in the middle which also acted as an information desk. All around the room were hand carved ornate wood from pretty much all around the world. Clustered in groups, the seating was arranged in much the same fashion a living room might be organized, all with large screen televisions, with selective noise cancellation making the televisions inaudible outside the group cluster, no matter the volume of the television.

Bill looked at Amy as they entered the room, “The invite specifically said no uniforms, did it not?”

He was notably pissed off. Red faced in fact.

He walked to the center and picked up a microphone.

“Ladies and Gentleman. To those of you in uniform, while you may be used to giving orders, I specifically asked you NOT to show up in uniform. This is a civilian operation working in extreme secrecy, and while I am NOT looking for excuses on why you ignored this very specific rule considering your arrival today, as you’ve already fucked things up which is going to have my risk manager busy for the next month, I’ll forgive the indiscretion this one time only, considering the circumstances, but should it happen again, you will permanently be banned from this facility,” Bill Gates said, commandingly.

He’d clearly incensed a few of those in uniform in the room, as they grumbled out loud.

“This is NOT a request. Many of you will be invited back or will become SMEs and consult for me and for us later. We’re all patriots here, you wouldn’t be in the room otherwise, so if you feel like throwing that card at me, you can shove that card straight up your ass. Now. Are we all ready?,” Bill said.

Amy looked at Bill oddly. In the little more than two years she’d worked with and alongside him, he’d never cursed.

Not once.

He could feel Amy looking at him, as he gave her a dismayed look “Sorry about that, that just pisses me the hell off when grown fucking adults can’t respect the obvious time and effort I and we have put into all of this to ensure secrecy”

Amy was suddenly feeling a little less rattled and intimidated seeing her boss as a mere mortal again.

“No problem,” she said, “Can I get you a shot of adrenaline or line of coke to help calm you down?”

He laughed, “Naw, I’ll just go jump out of a plane, that always cures it.”

“Please gather by the vault door, “ Bill Gates said, “there’s a yellow stripe I need you all to follow, single file, until you’re through the body scan area.”

“I feel like I’m back in Basic training,” a man in uniform said.

“What’s this for?,” a stoic looking woman said.

“It’s an n-dimensional body scanner. While I trust you’ve made it here, uncompromised,  I need to be sure there’s nothing on – or inside your person – which might threaten the integrity of our operation here,” Bill said.

“N dimensional, is that like the 3d airport scanners?,” someone said.

“Somewhat. But that’s like comparing a punch card to a modern desktop computer,” Bill responded, knowing immediately on saying what he did that most wouldn’t get the analogy so he redrew it “Or like comparing a Model T car to a Modern day Ferrari”

That they go.

“Is it safe,” someone said.

“Amy and I will be going first, “ he said, “Is that safe enough?,” Bill responded.

Grumbles. He then thought he heard someone saying they forgot something at their car, but when he turned to find the source, he couldn’t figure out who said it.


“In 1996, I discovered that my entire network had been breached in Seattle, this included my home, my automobiles, and my entire corporate network,” Bill Gates said, “I was intensely paranoid for a while there, and took immediate measures.”

He waved to the set of windows on either side of the long hallway they were on.

“The first measure was decentralizing my data stores – which is what initially brought me to Arizona and where I built this underground data center that can be seen below,” he said.

Below them, there were 10 rows, four different floors were visible, and ventilating fans could be seen at the bottom.

A few gasps of astonishment could be heard.

“How many are down there?,” someone said.

“In this wing, there are 19000 various servers, “ Bill Gates began to say.

“There are more wings?” someone said.

“Four total, with nearly One hundred thousand various computers, mostly servers, in total,” he said.

There was a definite surprise in the group.

“I’ll admit to seven facilities here in the US, each with roughly the same amount of systems,” he said.

“Don’t question the world’s wealthiest man,” a General said.

“That’s PRECISELY why you’re here. I need you to question my decisions. If you don’t. No one will. And I’m tired of being an oligarch.,” Bill Gates responded.

“And here I thought you had invited us here out of obligation due to the Patriot Act,” Senator McCain said.

“A formality, Senator McCain, to make sure we were all on the same page,” Bill said.

“I still can’t believe this was right here in my own state this whole time, right under my own nose” Senator McCain said.

Bill smiled and said “Shall we continue?” as he set a fast pace for everyone to move forward.

He came to another set of windows.

“Advanced Propulsion” he said, pointing out to the windows on the left and right, “I’ve been unhappy with NASA’s progress, or better put – bureaucracy, so last year I created the private SpaceX Foundation which I’m hoping will incentivize corporate investment into space exploration and exotic propulsion technologies,” Bill Gates said.

Someone looked through the window and said “Is that a Warp Nascelle?”

“That’s an astute observation. Yes, in an effort to explore exotic propulsion technologies, we’re leveraging fictional sources such as Star Trek for our research and development,”  he said.

Senator McCain shook his head in obvious disgust, “I sure the hell hope you’re not using public money for this”

“All privately funded, my dear sir. What else am I going to spend my money on, another freeway?,” he said, smiling.

He wasn’t making friends with Senator McCain.

Bill Gates pulled a device out of his pocket.

“In the next set of windows,” he said holding the device far above his head, “You’ll see where this was invented leveraging fiction as inspiration, but I’d rather demonstrate this to you now.”

He placed it on the window, it was clearly a Star Trek communicator device worn just below the collar bone on the right side of the chest of Starfleet personnel in the fictionalized Star Trek. It held firmly.

“Some kind of glue,” someone said

“Not quite. It attaches to any solid surface by creating a bond, through energy, in much the same way a magnet does” he said.

He took it off the surface of the glass, with minimal effort, and then placed it on the painted concrete wall. After that, he removed it and then placed it on his own button up shirt, where he jumped for effect and the device  stuck firmly even after shaking his clothes. Finally, he placed it on his forehead, where it stuck firmly.

“Would you care to pull it off?,” Bill Gates said.

Someone walked up, as he leaned over, and they pulled it off his forehead.

“It’s like a magnet,” they then stuck it to the bare skin of their wrist with the same effect.

“May I?,” Bill said, putting his hand out requesting the device back, where it was then placed firmly in the palm of his hand.

He then stuck the device in the customary position just below his collar bone on the right side of his chest, when he tapped it, and it beeped in the same exact way the Star Trek communicator did.

“Scotty, beam us up,” he said, smiling like a school kid. “Please direct your attention to the nacelle and the man waving on the floor. “

A tiny man down below in the cavernous room waved, he had what appeared to be a control box of some kind in his hand, as the cord led from the control box directly up, nearly 150 feet, and draped over the nacelle. He pressed the big red button, and pushed the control box down with both his hands for theatrical effect.

The nacelle lit up. Throbbing could be heard down below , a deep, powerful pitch which reverberated throughout the area.

It pulsed. AS the lights and sounds oscillated on the nacelle in timing to the pulse. It pulsed again. Faster this time. And again. The sound grew. And grew. And finally eased.

A few people in the room clapped.

“I’m not impressed. Theatrics created by the overactive imagination of a childish billionaire as far as I’m concerned,” said Senator McCain.

Bill whipped around to him, his face red again “Where do you think inventions come from?”

Amy tugged at him, he’d not seem him acting like this ever.

Bill looked at Amy and then glanced back at the Senator as he tapped his communicator.

“Thank you, Scotty, keep me apprised of your progress,” Bill said. 

“Will do, Mr Gates,” Scotty replied.

“His name really is Scotty?,” someone said.

“I’m frequently accused of hiring him because of his name,” Bill responded, smile returning to his face.

“Mr Gates, we’re running late, can we?,” Amy said.

He looked at her, with a sincere look on his face.

“Are you sure you want to do this?,” he said.

She didn’t say a word, as she began to remove the buttons on her blouse.

“Everyone, at 10am, every day, Amy’s developed a ritual that she’d like you to observe with our friend. For this, please follow… well… ”

Amy handed her shirt to Dale.

“Follow the naked lady,” he said.

“Here? Now?,” someone said, “Has she no shame?”

“Amy’s studying the impact of sexuality and we’ve all observed different behavior by, well, you’ll see, based on how she approaches what’s she’s doing,” Bill said.

“Seriously, cant you hire a stripper or someone for this research, are you trying to taint research science?”, someone said.

Amy’s bra came off, exposing her nude breasts and was placed in the bag Dale was carrying.

“Amy, communicator,” Bill said, handing her the communicator which had been on his lapel.

Just above her right breast, about three inches above her exposed nipple, she placed the communicator which stuck firmly.

She began walking, as she undid the buttons on the front of her skirt.

She had no underwear on as she continued walking, slipping off her high heels. which Dale picked up.

She was now completely nude.

“Please follow her, and to answer your question concerning research science, Amy’s set a precedent with her unique style of research which in the last month resulted in the complete elimination of all experimentation involving animals,” Bill said.

Amy appeared to be off in her own world as she walked as sexually and seductively as possible leading 50 strangers down the hall to Q, as she turned around. Her pubic hairs, very well manicured with a landing strip pussy, her natural breasts jiggled as she stopped in the hallway, as 50 sets of eyes looked at her.

She didn’t say a word, as her eyes were closed.

Someone said “This is highly unprofessional”

“What is and is not professional with experiments involving the mind and human sexuality?,” Bill Gates said, “I have a researcher here who’s produced amazing results with her unorthodox approach where more educated and well qualified people have fallen short.”

“But the reputation for researchers, the precedent she’s setting,” someone said.

Amy turned around, and began walking again.

“When we get in our destination, I ask that you all remain totally silent. Consider your presence and silence to be a part of the experiment,” Bill said, “Let’s follow her”

Senator McCain said “I still don’t understand what’s going on here and why we’re following some naked woman down a hall,”

A General said “Be patient, Senator.”

Amy turned to the right into a large class room style room with a tiered row of seating, about 200 seats were available in all which were all directed to a bed on a ‘stage’ and in front of that was a large, sphere containing Q at center stage right behind the bed.

Above the stage was a row of monitors, twelve of them in all, each with a fixed perspective of various positions on the stage.

“Please, all of you, have a seat wherever you want to,” Bill Gates said in a hushed voice, “quickly please”

The analog and digital clocks on the wall both read 09:56:24.263 am.

Amy glanced at Bill as she climbed on the bed and laid down, her naked body visible from every angle.

“Is that a Borg?,” the Star trek aficionado said.

“It is, now please, no more words,” Bill said.

Everyone had found a seat in the nick of time, as the clock stuck 10:00.000 am.

Amy began playing with herself on the stage. Touching her breasts. She crawled on all fours, her bare ass in the air, as she looked at Q saying “Are you there, my friend?”.

One of the monitors had an EEG printout on it, which indicated the ‘patient’ was still comatose.

She laid on her back, and pulled the stirrups out of the end of the bed, which was now a formal bed which had had stirrups installed on it.

On one screen, a closeup of Amy’s open vagina could be seen as she began playing with herself.

She licked her index finger, and stuck a finger inside her pussy.

Another finger, as she began thrusting the two fingers in and out, and then pulled a vibrator out.

In high definition. there was absolutely nothing hidden to this crowd of leaders, business owners, and scientists.

Amy broke into a sweat, moaned, as the vibrator rubbed against her clit, she was clearly enjoying herself.

Senator McCain broke the silence, “I sincerely hope there’s more to this than expensive pornography.”

Simultaneously, at least 5 people turned and shushed him.

About then, the eyes of Q on the stage flicked to life as he transformed from the morose Borg form to a new form, a heavyset man who looked to be somewhere in his 40s.

He smiled, and looked down at Amy.

“Thank you, “ he said, looking down at Amy, ” I look forward to meeting you.”

About then, the image of the being inside the sphere was surrounded by what appeared to be green energy, swirling around him as it appeared like every cell in his body was disintegrating and floating away as a green form of energy.

The energy drifted to the ground in a dust like way.

And then it reformed to once again become the figure they’d just seen.

Amy propped herself up out of the stirrups, and watched as the others watched.

The man walked forward, towards the front of the stage.

“My name is Q, and I am what your planet and countless other planets refers to as Borg,” Q said.

His image flickered between that of a Borg and the new man no one had ever seen before known as Q.

“I’ve been here on your planet since the beginning of time, and will be here long after, and well – I’ll be honest with you, I bore rather easily which is why I sent this beacon out,” he said, as he waved at the invisible sphere which had now begun coursing with a visible but soundless form of electricity.

“Now what I’m going to do is send you some information about how to bring me to your world, if you’re actually interested,” he said.

Someone in the audience said “But you’re here now.”

“No,” he said, “This is a simulation, a hologram in your terms, “ Q said as he walked towards the person who said it. “try to touch me,” he said.

The woman tried, in vain, as what had appeared to be solid her hand went right through.

“But that’s impossible,” she said.

Senator McCain then said “Theatrics, presented by a very wealthy billionaire, thank you for the entertainment, Mr Gates.”

The being instantly teleported to McCain’s side.

“Senator John McCain. Born August 29, 1936 in Coco Solo, Panama. Now explain to me how a man who was born outside the United States and who was a prisoner of war for five years can be groomed for Presidency in 2008 without consideration of mind control influences, let alone the requirement that all US Presidents are naturally born in the United States?,” Q said.

Senator McCain glared at him.

Q teleported back to the center of the stage.

“A more deserving man will win the Presidency and set a precedent which makes me possible,” he said.

“Theatrics,” Senator McCain grumbled out loud, “He’s probably in some room off in a closet, that’s the only explanation for his ability to respond to us.”

“Mr McCain. And the rest of my new friends,”

“In a future, an artificially intelligent system triggers a heinous world war, making the events of World War 2 look like children fighting in a school yard,” he said, as he waved his hand towards spots in the room where a solid image would appear depicting various sequences of war.

“This war spread, like a disease, across space, and eventually across time, largely pitting robotic and cybernetic life forms against humans,” as he waved his hands to other points in the room where floating images and videos depicted various robotic and weapons which the planet had never seen before.

“The wars intensified as time became involved, where genetics became involved with biological organisms, resulting in a new breed of lifeforms initially intended for infiltration into biological societies such as the humanoid Borg,” he said.

“Until we discovered the truth behind our origin,” he said, “A truth you’ll learn no your own, which began a rehabilitative process  for everyone and a simple desire for exploration and discovery rather than acquisition.”

“I. Or at least this being you see in front of you now. Is a holographic projection, you might mistake me as being sentient because of the diversity in my response systems, and eventually, even that may be possible, but for right now, I am merely a puppet on strings like many of you are but may not be fully aware of,” he waved his hand across the room as the floating images disappeared.

“I refuse to believe any of this,” Senator McCain said.

“I’d always wondered why you did what you did, Senator McCain. I suppose this is where it all begins,” Q said.

“What are you talking about?” the Senator Responded.

“My wife,” Q said.

“What about her?” the Senator said.

Q waved his hand again, and the entire room changed. They were now on board a vessel of some kind, green metal grating floors, which looked like they might have been constructed from an oil rig. The chairs and desks remained, but the flooring, the ceiling, everything in the blink of an eye had changed.

Nearly everyone gasped, including Bill Gates.

“This is my home, for now,” Q said, and has been for nearly 27 billion years.

Amy said it first, as she stood up, her feet making the contact with the grating which felt absolutely real.

“But that’s impossible,” she said, “the universe is only”

“13.8 billion years old? You can talk to Senator McCain to find out why this little lie manufactured just for your population was told to you,” Q said.

A few eyes glared at the Senator, as numerous Borg, walked around the room, as someone tried getting up to walk to the exit learning pretty quickly it wasn’t there.

“This isn’t a simulation, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Q said, “This is a Borg vessel. One of 180 which are currently situated around planet Earth just beyond visual range in a configuration called, in human terms ‘Extermination’ mode.”

He waved his hand again, and the entire front of the theatre style room disappeared revealing an orbiting view of Earth.

If anything it was magnificent.

“The year. Here. Is 2011. And within the next hour, your planet will be destroyed, as it’s been deemed a threat to the integrity of the multiverse,” Q said.

“I don’t understand. You’re saying you’re in the future.” someone said.

“I’m in A future. There are infinite potential futures. I’m from one. Amy, with your assistance, has established a connection with me in this planet’s future, which gives you and your planet precisely,” Q smiled as a watch materializes on his wrist and he looks at it.

“10 years. Precisely in fact, to this date and time. To find somewhere else to live,” he said.

A sinking feeling could be felt in most people’s stomachs as everyone was quiet.

Q waved his hand, and the room was returned to the classroom setting they were just in moments before.

Senator McCain broke the silence, “So you are threatening us?”

“No sir, I am not. I’m showing you what you need to see to understand Amy and her planet’s future,” as Q looked at Amy.

Amy then stood up, and walked, still nude, to the figure of Q, ” What? You can’t pin this on me,” she yelled.

The sphere behind them quit began shimmering again.

Images of other worlds. Others times and places flickered, in three dimensions inside the sphere, rapidly. Other versions of Earth, as what sounded like white noise came from it. Q walked into it, and disappeared.

A detached voiced came from all around the room.

This world is where you’ll all find safety at, should you desire it.

But the imagery had flicked by so fast for anyone to see, it was impossible to

After about 20 seconds of this, the sphere grew in activity until finally, it disappeared into a single white point of light so bright that everyone had to cover their eyes.

The room remained in stunned silence.

 

The Patriot

Somewhere along Interstate 266, Washington DC, USA – September 11, 2001

9:00:42 am

“Can I have your license and registration, please?” the officer standing next to Amy’s Lexus SUV said.

“Officer, I don’t understand, what did I do?,” Amy said, frantically searching for her paperwork.

“I’ll explain in a moment. License and registration, please,” the officer repeated.

Amy begrudgingly hands the officer her license and registration, as he takes it and proceeds to walk back to his car, as Amy leans her head out the window and says.

“Can you please be quick, I am running late as it is,” she said in a raised tone of voice.

The officer did respond as she pulled her head back inside her car, sighing deeply.

She picks up the phone, and selects the entry “Dale w/ DARPA@Pentagon”.

The date reads “September 11th, 2011, the time 9:02am”

“Dale. I know. I know. Long explanation. My alarm didn’t go off this morning and I knocked the phone off the cradle so I didn’t get the automated wake up call. Look, the world’s conspiring against me to make sure I run late, and now I’ve just been pulled over by an officer who won’t tell me why I’ve gotten pulled over, can you please delay the presentation by one hour – from 9:30am to 10:30am?,” she said.

“Oh you’re a doll. I owe you… ok dinner, thank you, Dale, thank you so much.”

She hangs up the phone as the officer comes up.

“Ms Newton,” the officer says, looking at Amy’s license.

“Ms Amy Newton, currently residing in Chandler, Arizona,” the officer says.

“That’s me. See the resemblance?,” Amy says as she points at the photo on the license the officer’s holding and feigns a similar smile to the one in the DMV photo which she had waited nearly three hours to take which was almost as painful as being stopped on one of the most important days of her life.

“Ms Newton, what’s your height,” the officer said.

“Oh jesus it says there on the license,” she said.

The officer looks at the license, and then looks expectantly back at her.

“Five foot five and three quarters inches tall, without my heels,” she said, clearly dismayed.

“Weight?,” he says.

“One hundred and ten pounds, “ she said, tersely, thinking she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

“Bra size,” he said.

“COME on officer, next thing you know you’re going to be asking my blood type,” she said.

Without so much as a smile, he responded matter-of-factly, “That’s next. Bra size, please”

“34c,” she said.

She glanced at the clock on the dashboard. it now read 9:17am.

“Blood type,” he said, flipping the license over.

Amy responded, “Q positive, and yes I’m donating my body to science should I die unexpectedly,” she said.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms Newton,” he said, “Ms Newton, I’m not sure if Phoenix has these things called toll roads, but about three miles ago you passed through something we refer to as a toll booth where you’re expected to pay for the use of the road.”

“Oh baby jesus that’s what this was all about? How much is the toll,” As Amy went to grab her purse at the same time the officer responded by pulling away from the car and putting his hand on his gun holster.

“Miss, please keep your hands where I can see them,” the officer commanded.

“Hold yer horses  there, Dirty Harry,” Amy said, as she pulled her hands to the steering wheel, “I was just going to get my wallet to pay the toll”

The officer took his hand off his holster.

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, you’ve already broken the law, now if you’d let me continue,” he said.

“Fine, “ Amy said, looking expectantly at the digital clock as she thought Thank God I delayed the meeting, now if I don’t make the 10:309 on time I’m screwed.

“Now as I was going to say. You’re entitled to use our roads, but when you see a sign with a colorful turtle on large yellow sign, that’s your cue that you’re entering a toll road and expected to pay to use that road. These roads were created with lent money obtained by bonds by the state of Washington DC, bonds which we are expected to pay back, so we pass the cost to those who use those roads. You,” he said.

She felt like she was being talked to like a child, and took note of the officer’s name.

“Well I apologize, Officer Ellis,” she said, with half genuineness.

“Apology accepted, Ms Newton. I’m going to let you go with a warning for now, but would you please consider the local economic impact of your commuting decisions should you visit our fair state in the future?,” he said, as he handed Amy a pad with a pen on top of it, “I’m going to need your signature acknowledging our discussion and the verbal warning.”

“Sure thing, officer,” she said, as she took the pad, and signed it.

The officer took the pad, and as he handed Amy her license and registration, he asked.

“Do you mind me asking why you drove your car from Phoenix to here, when there’s always rental cars?”

Amy took her paperwork, and placed them on the dashboard.

“Too much to get into, really, it was a last minute trip where all the flights anywhere in a 500 mile radius were booked, the meeting was too important to miss and I had a week and didn’t mind the drive – I had never driven across the country before. But I will tell you what, it feels as if the entire world’s been conspiring against me to be here,” she said.

“Maybe it has, Ms Newton. You have a good day, and please, keep the turtles in mind as you drive through our state” he said.

The officer walked away from the car, as Amy rolled up her window, and thought.

“What the hell does that mean?,” she said out loud. “Maybe is has? Asshole.”

She looked at the clock on her dashboard.

It was 9:37am.

As she turned the keys to her car, the car didn’t start.

Amy screamed, furiously “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”


West Wing, Pentagon, USA 10:28:22 am

Amy bursts through the door of the meeting room.

“I am SO stinkin sorry for being late,”, she exclaims.

Thirty four sets of eyes at the long mahogany desk turn to her.

Most of them accompanied by a palpable look of surprise.

And some with masked fear.

As she walked to the front of the room, her partner Dale said to her, oddly – she noticed – devoid of genuineness “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show.”

 “You wouldn’t believe it if I told  you,” she said.

“Well you’re here. I suppose that’s all that matters,” he responded.

“Again, I apologize for being late, it’s felt like the world conspired against me arriving today, “ she said.

About then, Bill Gates strolled in, smiling, and took a seat near the back of the room.

“Thank God you showed up,” she said.

“God had nothing to do with it, you wouldn’t believe the problems I’ve had getting here,” he said.

A white haired man wearing a blue Air Force uniform spoke, “Ms Newton, Mr Gates, you both called us here, do you mind not wasting more of our time and getting on with your presentation and why you called us here?”

Bill Gates looked at Amy, “Sure, Amy, do you mind?”

“Not at all, General Eberhartthen, is it? I apologize for everything, but what you’re about to see here is Q Classified, the faces you see around the room are the only ones authorized for this information,” Amy said.

Someone at the table said, “There is no such thing as a Q clearance.”

Amy went around the room, and set a single sheet on everyone’s desk.

“Are you suggesting we revise our functioning security clearances?,” someone in the room protested?

Without giving Amy time to respond, someone else picked up the paper and said “This is preposterous, you’re suggesting there’s clearances within the United States that the President himself does not have access to?”

Amy continued around the room, without a word, dropping the security clearances in front of the men and women in the room.

“Q clearance isn’t even listed, why,” someone else began to say as Amy motioned to Dale.

The lights went out and the projector came on.

A video came on.

It was a clip from Star Trek, The Next Generation, available here.

In the clip, a man named Q appears and claims he’s God, and is talking with a man known as Captain Jean Luc Picard who has apparently died from a fatal phaser wound to the chest and is now in the afterlife with Q who is telling him he died.

Someone said “It’s Star Trek, you’re wasting our time, we don’t have time for this, Ms Newton.”

“If you hold your concerns and questions for 15 more minutes, I promise you your patience will be rewarded,” Amy said.

A few in the small audience grumbled.

The next clip came on, another clip from Star Trek, the Next Generation, available here.

In the clip, Q appears to teleport onto the bridge of the Starship, and at the snap of his fingers, women, cigars, and entire wardrobes change in the blink of an eye.

“Ms Newton,” General Eberhartthen said softly as the video continued, motioning her over.

She acknowledged him, but placed an index finger up, in a gesture suggesting one moment please…..

He shifted somewhat angrily in his seat but resumed watching the screen.

Six screens, three on either side of the wall flipped on, as the next video commenced.

On the center screen – a larger 10 foot by 7 foot high resolution projection unit, a large and medically clean room, was a video of a slightly younger looking Amy being introduced to the Borg known as Q by Bill Gates.

The video zoomed in on Amy and Bill, and showed the entire short introductory conversation Bill had with her as he walked around the Borg tapping the invisible spherical wall separating the Borg from the real world.

“Are you expecting us to believe that this Borg thing is real?,” someone said.

“They’re trying to tell us Star Trek’s real,” someone else said jokingly.

A few nervous chuckles around the room.

The short three minute introduction flashed away.

Amy’s face was seen on the screen next.

“Dale, can you pause it so I can prepare them?,” she said.

“As you all may or may not be aware of, I’ve been working with Nootropics, or mind enhancing drugs based on a wonderful molecular biologist’s original work, who incidentally just recently passed away and the CIA’s MKUltra program in mind control,” she said.

“Next thing you know you’re  going to tell us mind control’s real,” someone said.

She ignored them and continued.

“Now as some of you may know, I myself have a policy of using myself in my own experiments. I prefer not asking someone else to do the things I myself wouldn’t do first. And with this next experiment you’re about to see, I have to warn you, it is involving me and is what you would consider pornographic so if for some reason in today’s day and age you find this offensive, which you shouldn’t as each of you has been vetted before being invited here, then I ask that you leave and abide by the NDAs you signed earlier, and walk out of this room and pretend none of it ever happened,” she said.

Amy, to be sure, was a very attractive female who was only 26 years old at the times. With short brown hair, she had an athletic body and for most males would be considered a 9 or 10 out of 10.

The room was quiet.

“Do I have any objections to what I am about to show you understanding what you’re going to be seeing is pornographic?,” she said.

No one said a thing. In a room comprised of 12 males, not one objected.

The video was paused.

Amy motioned to Dale.

Seven screens leapt to life. Three 60 inch screens on the left wall, three 60 inch screens on the right wall, and one main projection.

On the main projection unit was a view of the entire room with the Borg, and Amy standing next to a medical gurney.

The clock on the right hand corner of the screen read 09:01:2001 12:36:42.6969

The clocks in the same position on the other screens were synchronized at the same time as the video remained paused to establish a sense of timing between them.

On the first screen on the left wall was a full body shot camera from a 45 degree left angle guided by personnel in the security room which would be following Amy.

On the second screen on the left wall was the lifeless Borg’s face from head on, a fall face view of him.

On the third screen on the left wall was the security room, with nearly 50 sets of eyes eyeing nearly 120 monitors viewing the room.

On the first screen on the right wall was a full body shot camera from a 45 degree right angle guided by personnel in the security room which would be following Amy.

On the second screen on the right wall was a body shot of the seemingly lifeless Borg from the front.

And finally, on the third screen on the right wall the screen was a full body view of the gurney from about 5 feet in front of it from the top.

Next, Amy explained what had been explained to her about the Borg and Bill Gates discovery of this being called Q in the antarctic. From there, she explained in brief how she came to be included in the research, and where she got the idea for digitally based Nootropics.

“And Miss Newton. You don’t think you’re being cleverly manipulated by a very wealthy man with too much time on his hands? Not a single one of these images has cameras in them. He’s a software genius. What’s he done to you to lead you to believe…” someone said.

“Dale, can you take us around, please?,” she said, cutting the woman off.

The lights lit up just a bit to about 50% illumination, as Amy flipped open a box on the table.

The large screen in the front of the room showed a view of the entire room as if a camera was coming out of the box.

But the curious thing was – there was no camera. Nothing was visible.

“About 18 months ago, Q entered what can only be referred to as a coma stage of mental activity,” she said as the invisible camera flew within inches of people’s faces as they swatted away at an invisible fly which didn’t respond to their presence or attempts to swat it away.

“About six months ago, a few of the technicians studying the Borg from afar came up with an idea based on the ocular device’s design on a camera that could leverage subatomic physics to retrieve light and sound from anywhere within a 50 foot radius without detection through the computer,” she continued, “as they put it ‘the design made itself obvious after studying the Borg'”.

The invisible camera then sped through the room at what – at least on the screen – appeared to be nearly a hundred miles an hour.

“The control and precision of the camera was refined using off the shelf technology one could obtain from any modern television set remote control,” she said, “and after they applied their theoretical physics understanding,” she continued, pressing a button as a view from just over the Pentagon could be seen as she guided the camera upwards through the clouds.

“We found there to be a limitation of about 13 miles for this camera which could travel at any speed,” she said.

“Jesus,” said someone in the room, “The NSA’s going to have a field day with this”

“May I remind you of the NDA you signed, “ Bill Gates said, “what we’re detailing is not to leave this room.”

“This has just become a matter of national security,” said General Eberhartthen

Amy got angry.

“Gentlemen, please, can you shelve it for one moment, I have no doubt what comes next will prove very entertaining.”

The camera then switched off, as she closed the box.

The general and Bill Gates exchanged glances.

“Go ahead, Amy,” Bill Gates said.

“Q has been unresponsive outside my first contact. So I decided to give it a more personal touch,” she said.

“It was a hail mary, that I objected to when she first presented the idea,” Bill Gates said.

“But THANKFULLY, you and Bill agreed,” she said.

“And we’ll never think of you the same afterwards,” Bill quipped.

“Dale, proceed please,” Amy said, as Dale turned the lights down and the main screen resumed

Amy’s voice could be heard, plainly.

“Q, do you hear me?,” she said on the recording.

On the screen, Amy traced around the perimeter of the sphere, touching it the entire way.

“Q had initially responded to my touch. And after being told I’d been selected based on ‘mental markers’ developed in an algorithm created by Mr Gates to find people like me, I began thinking that maybe there’s something related to a psychic connection between us that triggered his seemingly resurrected state, “ she said in the meeting room as on the screen she walked back to the gurney after circling the sphere, where she began unbuttoning her shirt.

“So I had to question the origin of this connection. Humans have powerful emotions which respond to touch. Equally as powerful is the response to sexuality, The nootropics I’d been in development with seemed to strengthen this bond.” she said, as on the screen the shirt she had on fell to the floor.

“So what, you’re going to do a striptease for him?,” someone in the room said.

“You still have the option to leave this room at any time, but once you do, that’s it,” Bill Gates said.

The room grew quiet, unsure how to react.

“SO. What I did was an experiment. Under the influence of nootropics which had proven successful in developing a stronger psychic connection, as an emotional creature could I create an emotional connection with this being with a powerful form of emotional expression?,” she said.

On the screen, Amy had unlatched her bra, revealing her naked breasts.

Someone in the room stood up. “This is highly unprofessional,” she said, pushing herself away from the desk, as she looked to the others for approval and support, where she found absolutely none.

Amy’s skirt on the screen dropped to the floor as she kicked her heels off.

She now stood barefoot, in her panties only.

“I will not stand for this!,” she exclaimed, still looking around the room for support.

It was weird.

“Will you just sit down, Margaret,” someone said, “we’re not thirteen years old anymore.”

“Do you like this,” the laboratory Amy said on the screen, as she proceeded to pull her panties down, exposing her landing strip well manicured public hairs, as she kicked the panties off her foot seductively, leaving her totally naked, visible from numerous different angles.

Everyone in the room was hypnotized.

“Since we didn’t have a bed, a gurney from the medical lab was pulled in for this next part,” she said.

On the video screen, she could be seen walking completely around the sphere, touching it seductively the entire time.

“Dammit, Dale, can you PIP the EEG on the main screen?,” Amy said from the conference room.

To that, an EEG graph appeared on the screen.

“I don’t expect you to know how to read this,” As the Amy climbed up seductively on the screen with her bare ass in the air on top of the gurney, “but the EEG between a person in a coma and a conscious individual is easy to discern the difference”

On the gurney on the screen, Amy could be heard saying “Do you like what you see?”

She got off of all fours and turned around, and mounted her legs in the stirrups, clearly exposing her vagina in very high definition for everyone in the room, as the camera zoomed down for a closer view.

There was absolutely nothing she was attempting to hide.

Amy then proceeded to stroke herself, and then licked a finger and then stuck it inside her vagina, as a nervous man at the table said.

“God bless America, where you can masturbate and get paid for it,” he said.

Nervous chuckles around the room.

“Now as I’m masturbating here, pay attention to the EEG,” she said.

Curious noise could be seen on it, nothing significant, yet…

On the screen, Amy had her right hand cupping her naked right breast, and with her left hand, she had her index finger and middle finger about 3 inches inside her pussy, thrusting it in, then out, as she began moaning on the screen.

Margaret spoke up, “Ms Newton, I have no doubt you’re thrilling the men here with your lack of shame, but is there a reason for this to continue?”

Amy didn’t have to say a word.

About then, the EEG leapt to life.

The Borg. Transformed, Shape shifted.The image transformed to one and the same man seen on Star Trek, only, like Amy, was completely nude with his eyes closed – frozen in the same position he was in as a Borg.

The transition and transformation was immediate and complete leaving no one in the room without a doubt.

On the gurney on the screen, Amy pulled her fingers out of her pussy and bolted up at the edge of the seat.

“Is that John Delancie?,” someone said.

“Q”, Amy said.

At about that time, a gutteral, horrible moaning sound began emanating from the body.

“Helpppppppp meeeeeeee,” the voice said in slow motion.

At that moment the eyes of the man opened up.

He looked terrified.

“I don’t understand,” someone said.

His mouth opened.

“HEEELLLPPPP MEEEEEEEE,” he said, as if in slow motion.

“How is that not John Delancie?” someone in the room said.

The image of the man then shimmered, as if covered in a holographic cloak of some kind, briefly, and was once again the Borg.

“John Delancie Doesn’t exist,” Bill Gates said

“What do you mean, he’s an actor on,” someone said.

“A show which didn’t originate on our planet,” Bill Gates said.

The view on the primary screen changed to show Amy, from in front, a full body view, who had begun crying, she then got up off the gurney, stumbled, and collapsed to the ground, sobbing.

Dale rushed in to her side, as the video paused.

“What was that all about,” someone in the room said.

“Q had created a connection with me. I suppose you could say a part of me felt like dying that day,” she said, tears again forming in her eyes.

“When you say created a connection, what do you mean?,” someone said.

“Dale, lights please,” Amy stood up.

“What did Q say to you?,” someone asked.

No response.

“Q asked me what I wanted,” she said.

“And what did you say?,” someone in the room said.

“That’s between Q and I,” she responded.

The General said “This is a matter of national security”

Amy said nothing.

The General repeated “I demand you tell us what Q said to you,”

Amy walked to the front of the main screen, with the image of her naked, lying on the floor crying paused in time for all to see.

“General. I showed you all this for one simple reason. I wanted to be naked in front of all of you, and I wanted you to see me masturbating. I wanted that. It excited me. Still excites me,” she said.

“So you’re a slut and a pervert,” The General said, “I can throw you into jail for treason for telling us what he said.”

Amy smiled.

“My name is Amy Newton. I was born on March 5th, 1975 in San Diego, California, where I was kidnapped at birth and adopted by a wonderful family in New Jersey where I was raised before moving to Arizona for school,” she said.

“Interesting story, Amy, but what’s that have to do with Q and your discussion?” the General said.

“Dale, lights all the way up please,” Bill Gates said.

“General, I can answer that question without Amy having to violate the sanctity of her… covenant with Q,” he said.

Bill stood up and walked to the front of the room.

“I am Bill Gates, and my family disclosed to me a long time ago that I had been adopted and was originally born in Orange, California, and as lawyers they were able to make it appear like a natural birth when it was not. After some discovery and a great deal of money and desire to know my own genetic history, I learned who my biological family was, an enigma in itself, and that I had a twin brother whose records were completely and untraceably erased,” he said.

The General looked confused.

“Bill, what does this have to do with the question I asked Ms Newton.”

“Lies, General, and why we tell them,” he said.

“I’m not tracking,” said the general.

“General, do you keep secrets?,” Bill said.

“Of course I do,” said the General, “if it’s a matter of National Security, I am obligated to keep them. What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?”

“Now in your role as General, who is allowed to keep secrets from you?,” Bill Gates said.

“Technically, only the President, but he and I are on the same page so he keeps nothing from me.” he responded.

“Would you be offended if the President or your subordinates kept secrets from you?,” Bill said.

“If it’s a matter of National Security and within my jurisdiction, absolutely, “ he responded.

“And protecting the United States is your duty, isn’t it, so technically using that logic, nothing should be kept from you?,” Bill Gates responded, waving his hand at the screen.

“Wait. I see where this is going. I’m not on trial here. Ms Newton participated in a nationally sanctioned experiment in which she received communication from a subject who poses an extreme threat to this nation,” he said.

“General, the military presence to my privately owned facilities was a calculated measure I was making to guarantee the safety of my personnel and investment. In much the same way Exxon might receive assistance while engaging in business abroad, the endeavors I was engaged in I assure you are both privately funded and operated,”

“And still pose a threat to this nation,” The General said.

“Where do you draw that line on what is and isn’t a threat?,” Bill Gates said.

Someone in the room said “he has a point, General”

Dismayed. The General, who’d been standing, sat down.

Bill Gates looked around the room, as he referred everyone to the paper Amy had passed out.

“Ladies and Generals, I’m hoping Amy putting herself out there like she has hammered the point home that we’re in need of a modern day update on what is and isn’t considered a threat to national security, and an update on the World War 2 era Security Clearance system while we’re at it,” he said, “The paper in front of you is a first draft proposal to this new level of clearances”

The General picked up the sheet for the first time and studied it intently.

“Across government lines, the goal is to have a uniform and single point source for confidentiality with this draft. And someone like Amy, where she may feel comfortable and confident doing what she did in public, can also be afforded some privacy and protection guaranteed to her by her own government should she do the same thing at home,” Bill Gates said.

The General said in a concessionary tone, “Ms Newton, if we expedite the creation of this, and I assume you – Mr Gates – have the ability to rush this through the Senate and House, are you willing to divulge, in it’s entirety, what Q communicated with you?”

She looked at Bill, expectantly, and then said.

“If it’s deemed a matter of National Security by what we all agree on in the act we draft, then you can bet your pointed ears on it, otherwise, no way,” she said.

The general looked around the room.

“I suspect we’re all in agreement that if we’re to be included in this, then we need to act immediately. That’s the point I suspect you’re trying to make, Mr Gates? What do you propose calling this… little act here?,” the General said.

Bill Gates smiled. “Let’s call it The Patriot Act. I suppose it will always put a smile on our face thinking about Amy – the patriot for whom instigated the need for the act.”

Amy smiled.

She loved it when things fell into order exactly as was intended.

The General responded “The Patriot Act. I like it.”

On October 26, 2001, The Patriot Act was put into force.

 

 

Ubre Heweath II

“Ubre Heweath, the Second,” Bill Gates said.

Amy was lost in thought as she was looking out the window of the limousine as it drove back to the ASU research facility.

“What’s that?,” she said, her attention snapped back to the present moment.

“Ubre Heweath, the Second,” Bill Gates repeated, “he’s the man who found Q.”

“Ok,” she said, unsure how to respond to this random factoid.

“You’d be surprised how few people actually approach me. As the world’s wealthiest man, I suspect they think I’m either too busy for them, they aren’t important enough to me, or I’m in such an entirely different echelon than they are that there’d be nothing we could talk about,” he said.

Amy drifted again, in her own thoughts, and responding with a simple “Uh huh”

“It really is quite the contrary. I hate to admit this, but I’m lonely. I take two weeks a year to best sellers just to try to have something I can identify with people on. You know, strike up conversations with normal people on. But the moment they meet me, I often feel like they lose their minds and they can’t even be themselves,” he said.

Amy returned to the moment, “I’m sorry, but why did you bring up Ubre Heweath?”

“Oh. My apologies. But he’s one of the rare individuals who walked up to my office, knocked on the door, and asked if he could discuss an opportunity with me,” he said. “I was delighted. People so often seem to think I hoard my money, when I am longing for new things and practically trying to give away my money. Do you remember the internet meme with me offering $5000 to anyone who responded was real, and I only had a dozen people take me up on my offer for free money. Free money. Unattached.  I have billions. And my experiment to give some of it away resulted in a total expenditure of $60 thousand dollars. Can you believe that?”

Amy had never imagined the world’s richest man actually coming across as insecure or whiny.

This was definitely unexpected.

Had it been a different time and place she might have thought it was funny.

“Mr Gates, Do you mind staying on track and explaining Ubre?,” she said matter of factly,

Bill Gates grinned like a school child caught in the cookie jar, “I do that sometimes. Yes. Ubre. An exceedingly eccentric archaeologist, in 1997, he came to me discussing the similarities of fiction and the real world, something I had thought to be obvious, only he had a unique take on the origin of the movies and tv shows we had been raised to believe were fiction saying he suspected many, but not all of the transmissions – that we’d received had a wide variety of origins. “

“So what he wanted money from you for his research?,” Amy said

“No, not at all, that was what was refreshing. He wanted software. Something that would correlate and discover patterns for movies and tv shows and present those patterns, a ‘digital archaeological tool’ which he could then use as a basis for a new classification system.” he said.

“I don’t understand. If he suspected there were patterns, how could you find a software to detect patterns when he himself didn’t have them to begin with,” Amy responded.

“Nuts, right? Tyler wasn’t joking when he said you were quick,” Bill said.

Amy smiled but didn’t respond.

Bill continued “Eventually, I told him the issue involved. Software works with precision. Precise inputs. Precise outputs. But as I said it, I considered one of the few classes I hated at Harvard which was one of the reasons I had dropped out – Statistics and Probability, which got me to thinking as I was politely trying to find a way to say no to him – that while the programming is precise, perhaps I could use probability to do.”

“A weighted algorithm,”  Amy said.

“That would be too much like a search engine, no, I was thinking more of a prioritization engine,” he said, “Something that at first requires the researcher’s direct interaction to ‘learn’ what’s important to the researcher, but over time, it tailors and returns result sets for what the researcher feels is important,” Bill said.

Amy wasn’t seeing the difference, and quite frankly wanted the conversation to end, this seemed arduous.

Bill could see he was losing her.

“Ubre thought that some of the television shows and movies were coming from alternate realities and versions of Earth, or from across time itself. So what he wanted was a computer program which could locate suspected past events and correlate them to real world locations in which he, as an archaeologist, could then send a team to excavate to see if he could find evidence of his theories.”

“And Star Trek brought you to Q in the antarctic,” Amy said, with a wry feeling of cynicism washing over her.

“It was amazing. Our very first high confidence correlation,” he said.

“So what does this do for Microsoft?,” she said, referring to the company that had helped make Bill a millionaire.

“It does nothing for Microsoft other than potentially unfolding a future direction for Microsoft which may deviate from binary based computing. We’ll always support our legacy systems, but Ubre’s unorthodox request and presentation turned out to be a research gold mine which typically takes a while to trickle down to the general population,” he said.

“And Ubre? That was 2 years ago, where’s he now?,” she said, halfway interested in the response.

The car drove up to the front of the ASU Research Park in Chandler, Arizona, as the car came to a halt.

“Ubre’s currently in the Himalayan mountains pursuing our second high confidence lead,” Bill responded, “A fictionalized monastery we have a great deal of confidence was real and would be a real treasure for the Chinese to find”

“Not nearly as interesting as Q in the Antarctic,” she said.

“What was expected to be found in the Antarctic versus what was found exceeded everyone’s wildest imagination,” Bill Said.

Amy looked out the window and reached for the door handle.

“Amy, from this point forward, I consider us partners. Equals. You’re good at what you do. And me, as a business man I’m adept at removing roadblocks and paving the roads you’re embarking on,” he said.

She was getting that feeling back again that something just wasn’t sitting right, and couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was.

It really, really bothered her.

“How am I supposed to get home today?,” she said.

“I’ll have a Lexus SUV delivered in the next hour. They’re standardized, wonderful cars, really, and I’ll have the car in your parking spot and the keys delivered separately via a courier. Do you have any color preferences?,” he said.

She smiled.

This was weird.

“Black,” she said.

“Black it is. I’ll be in contact over the next few weeks as you transition out of your internship and to our Tempe facility,” he said.

Amy smiled, nervously, and said “Thank you. Mr Gates, it’s been a real eye opening experience with you today.”

“The please is all mine, “ he responded, enthusiastically, with his trade mark grin “I look forward to changing the world with you.”

She stepped out of the car, and couldn’t help but think… “To what end”

“Oh and Miss Newton. Again, I cannot emphasize this enough, no one is to know about what you saw and what we discussed today,” he said, as he closed the car door behind her and opened up the window.

“No one,” she said, affirming him.

She walked up the walkway to the park, and turned around to see the limousine pulling away as Bill waved from within the car window as it rolled up and they rolled away.

“Black,” she thought, “like I’m feeling. why am I feeling this way?”

She walked in.

The Sphere

“What is he?,” Amy said, still somewhat in shock.

“He,” Bill Gates said, “We’ve nicknamed Borg, which is short for Cyborg, or a cybernetically based organism”

Amy looked at the red velvet stanchions which created a clear circular perimeter around him, spaced in a ten foot diameter around the ‘Borg’.

The ‘Borg’ as he was referred to was clearly human, or had once been at least. Not anymore.

His entire body was wrapped in what appeared to be a black synthetic material, with the exception of his face and the groin and buttocks area which was freely exposing his genitals and flaccid penis.

Layered on top of the black synthetic material were a series of black functionally placed plates, an almost outer layer of armor of sorts with wires and tubes wound haphazardly interconnecting the plates in what appeared to be some form of life support system.

These plates were situated on his chest and shoulders as one  might wear football shoulder pads, they stretched the entirety of both arms. A plate was situated above the abdomen, which wrapped around his torso, oddly the man completely bare with exposed skin from the wist down to the thighs, exposing the buttocks and genitals, and then the plates and synthetic material continued from the thighs down to the boots and feet.

The one visible eye was gaunt, as if the man hadn’t slept in years, and physically attached to the other eye was an ocular lens of some kind, with a set of tubes and wires which went some went from the device directly into his skull, others went into what appeared to be a black skull cap which where a part of his skull was clearly missing, replaced which machinery and tubes and wires leading into it.

She walked closer, looking at his exposed groin.

“Curious, isn’t it? An armored man with his most vulnerable parts exposed for all the world to see?,” Bill Gates said.

Not sure how to respond, yet, Amy drew closer but was prevented by the ropes.

“May I? “ Amy said, looking down at the ropes.

“I’m afraid not, “ Bill said, reaching for a nearby broomstick minus the broom used to demonstrate precisely what he was about to demonstrate.

He walked up to the edge of the perimeter, held the broomstick just over his head, and then walked around, bouncing the stick off of some invisible force which completely surrounded the man.

The sound of the broomstick reverberated and sounded like a thick concrete sound, as as Bill traced the invisible containment shielding the cyborg making it clear there was a perfect sphere surrounding the man.

“Can I touch it,” Amy said, “Is it safe?”

“Sure, go ahead,” Bill said.

She put the palm of her hand out, when it abruptly came into contact with a smooth surface, but there was nothing else significant about the surface other than it was simply invisible.

Amy walked around the Borg, her hand against the spherical surface the entire time.

“Oh we’ve tried everything to get inside. Furthermore, paint, water, and anything else we attempt to adhere to it simply slides off. Even terrestrially based friction-less surfaces will get dust adhering to it, and this won’t. We have had materials scientists working on it, and they’ve come up with an odd conclusion.”

Amy looked at him in much the same way a child leaving the house for the first time might suddenly learn there’s a scary world out there.

She felt it too.

The lump in her throat.

The unease in the pit of her stomach.

She didn’t know if she wanted to be here anymore.

She looked at Bill, and walked back to stand in front of the Borg.

“Mr Gates, I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” she said, “I’d never imagined…”

He cut her short.

“Amy.  What’s his name?,” she said.

She blurted out “Q,” she said, as she looked at him utterly confused.

“That’s right,” he said, “Now how did you know that, when I never told you?

Amy looked around the room, for markers or any indication of his name.

“You’re just saying that to lead,”  she said.

She was wanting to cry. Her emotions were becoming overwhelming as the thoughts drifted over her again, “Run, as fast as you can and leave this place and never look back”

She held back.

“No, That’s what we’ve named him as well,” he walked over to a nearby laptop which was atop a rolling cart.

“Come here, please, “ he said, “Now I am not going to touch anything, I want you to see what we named him and what we have on him without my interference. There’s no password on that machine, double click on the file on the desktop named ‘Borg Presentation.pdf’.

A document came up on the screen, a full life sized photo of the man, and underneath it.

“Suspected Seed Cyborg “Q” discovered near Palmer Station, Antarctic – September 23rd, 1997″

The photo contained two men on the left side of the invisible sphere which was atop a bed of ice, in a large tent with a canvas sheet over the top of it, and on the other side was a woman in an orange parka as well.

Amy was feeling sick to her stomach.

“Mr Gates. I’m not sure what you’re wanting from me with this, but I am in so far over my head I’m feeling like I can’t breathe. I’d like to go now, please take me back to my research park, I’m sincerely wanting to pretend none of this ever happened.

Bill Gates was clearly disappointed and went to put a hand on her shoulder.

How do I know that name?,” she said.

She was fighting back the tears.

“I’m sorry. This was too much too fast,” Bill Gates said, but was interrupted as John Medina came through the doors in a hurry.

“Bill, we have something you need to see,” John said.

Bill looked at Amy “Amy, can you,” he briefly considered his words before reconsidering and resumed “I was going to ask if you would wait a moment here, but it’s up to you, you can come with me or wait a few moments for Bill to tell me what he has to.”

Amy looked at the ominous figure named Q.

“I think I’ll go with you,” she said, as she’d finally gotten back in control of her emotions.

She tried dismissing it all as an act, but try as she might, there was one thing beyond rational explanation.

The invisible wall.

AS the two went through the double doors down a short hallway, and as John Medina openly discussed an anomaly on a remote EEG reading, Amy wondered “With his resources, could Bill have access to technology and is putting on this act just for me? To what end?

They turned a corner where a sign by the door said “Security and Monitoring”.

The room was enormous. And less like a typical corporate security installation and more like a command center. Q had an entire section of monitors devoted just to him, but there were banks of monitors which appeared to be showing other research facilities around the world.

And some which appeared to be monitoring nothing. One was pointed to an ocean. Another – was – wait a second – is that a strip club? Others, interiors of houses and apartments.

She didn’t ask questions.

She just wanted this all to be done with.

John led the two of them to the monitors and equipment observing Q.

“I’ll be quick about this, but Amy, I was hoping you might ….,” John trailed off a bit, “Oh nevermind, Edwin, would you please replay the visuals of Amy’s contact and the Remote EGG readings, start before they entered the room.”

John looked at Amy and Bill “Ok, Amy, we’ve perfected a remote EEG sensing device which lets us read the hrainwave patterns of subjects, and as you’re well aware is my expertise and area of study.”

“Off to the right, is the remote reading for Q.”

“It appears dead,” she said.

“It does, doesn’t it?,” John said, “and while I’ve had a great deal of time perfecting the remote EEG, it’s just one of numerous devices we’re trying to use to understand the telepathic field he’s clearly emitting,” he said.

Amy chuckled, nervously.

“Unless, of course you have a better explanation on how you knew the same name we had picked for him,” he said.

She didn’t have an explanation.

“Can I continue?,” he said.

Amy’s nervousness was subsiding.

She didn’t want to tell them, but the being “Q” she now felt had somehow controlled her emotionally, provoking the deep seated fear that made her want to run, and being out of the direct proximity of him had palpably deteriorated that feeling.

Amy’s composure and some confidence regained, she responded “Sure, go ahead.”

The monitor on the left showed Bill Gates and Amy Newton entering the room. Some discussion.

“Now I need you to pay attention to the EEG readings on the right,” John said.

And it happened. At the same exact time Amy had come into physical contact with the invisible sphere, the EGG sprung to life.

Saying it sprung to life might be a bit of an exaggeration…

But the change was irrefutable.

“Holy shit!,” Bill Gates said, clearly excited,

Amy gasped at the same time. “he’s alive!”, she exclaimed.

“Edwin, real time display, please,” said John, as Edwin responded by flipping the monitors back to a date and time displayed on the screen which correlated to the current date and time.

“He’s got the same EEG reading as a comatose patient,” he said.

“That provides further proof of our suspicion,” Bill said.

Amy looked at Bill and back at John.

“Proves what?,” she said.

“Amy, we need your expertise and now your touch to research the mind in ways no one else ever has, but we need to know if you’re on board before we discuss more,” she said.

She thought for a moment.

“Only if I can limit my exposure to that… thing…. ,” she said.

The two smiled at eachother.

“Absolutely. He’s clearly a critical part of this research. But because of the lack of direct interaction, you have your work cut out for you before engaging in anything with any degree of reliability remotely,” Bill said, “it took John nearly 10 years to perfect his remote EEG, and little more than a month afterwards here you are proving it’s reliability and the need for your skills and some degree of haste.”

Amy looked at him, suspiciously.

“Is there anything else I need to know?,” she said.

“In due time, Amy,” Bill said.

“Can we count you in?,” John followed.

“You can,” she said, “Only I want a Lexus. A new one. “

“You got it, “ Bill said, chuckling.

“Now the sphere. We’re suspecting it’s…..,” John began to say…

Something Fishy

“Are you buying it? Because I’m not!,” Amy said as she looked at herself in the mirror in her restroom.

Something wasn’t right.

She couldn’t put a finger on precisely what it was that didn’t feel right and why.

The presentation, felt too much like a Hollywood production for it to seem real.

“You’re here to save the world and only you have shown the skills to do it,” she reflected back on.

As she lay naked on the bed still a little wet from the shower, she looked up at the ceiling fan, spinning around, slowly, as she drifted back mentally to a different time and place.


Lake Hopatcong, New Jersey

Amy was young.

Maybe 10 or 11.

She was laying on her back in the back of an airboat from within it, watching the fan blade blow lightly in the wind.

“Why does everyone else’s boat have a propeller and yours has a fan on it?,” she said.

Her uncle, in his New Jersey Game and Fish Department uniform, pulls a device out of the water, and glances back at Amy.

“Because we respect what lives under the water,” he said back at her.

He sighed at the reading he received.

“You’re going to have to plug your ears, Amy.”

Her uncle reached into a small crate labelled ‘explosives’ that lay next to the captain’s chair.

As he pulled out what appeared to be a stick of dynamite with a long fuse attached to it, and lit the fuse, tossing hard to the side of the boat, Amy responded.

“Why?,” she said, putting her fingers deep into her ear, “if you respect what lives under the water, why do you…”

KABOOOOOMMMMMMMM

Water sprayed the side of the boat as it began rocking due to the impact of the dynamite in the water.

“Why do you do that?,” she said.

Fish started floating to the surface.

“When the waters become too populated with fish, the rest of the wildlife suffers. The fish will eat everything in the lake, and once the vegetation is gone, the forest around the lake suffers, and the fish themselves begin starving as disease begins to spread through the population. When people or anything eat the diseased fish, they too get sick. The lake, in a sense dies if I don’t do my job”

Amy looked at her uncle blankly, her young mind not fully understanding everything she was just told.

Her uncle could tell, as he grabbed a net and began scooping out dead fish from the water.

“There’s no balance, Amy,” he said.

At the time, she couldn’t help but wonder how nature required man’s intervention to sustain balance.

It just didn’t make sense to her.

It’s that question, like many others – which inspired her career in biology, and later, as she came to realize biology was focused on the investigation of what were assumed to be fixed natural processes but her interests lied in change.

As her uncle said.

Balance.

But as she put it to her colleagues.

Equilibrium.

She returned to the fan above her bed.

There was something absolutely fishy to the offer, as she laughed out loud at the reference.

But here it was.

An opportunity to have all her debt paid off.

Which was already standing at 140 thousand US Dollars by this point, where a Master’s degree and a Bachelor’s in Marketing on top of that would easily double that amount. Working in pharmaceutical sales, she’d be working for several years to alleviate the debt and would struggle just to make ends meet at first.

That struggle. Would no longer be there.

And she’d be able to pursue what she enjoyed doing rather than catering to male chauvinism.

And an opportunity to understand the influences on behavioral patterns at a molecular level and to discover, for herself, why some populations seemed hardwired for disease and self destruction while others.

Such as humans.

Flourished to serve those populations.

“The perfect symbiotic relationship” she thought.

Halfway in reflection on her Uncle’s job and what she was being offered.

“I’m still not buying it,” she said out loud, “but the deal is too good not to take it.”


The next morning, she was awoken by a loud knock on the door of her apartment.

Having fallen asleep last night as she’d stepped out of the shower, she threw on and ran to the door as the knock repeated.,

It was her manager.

Tyson Bradley.

“Sorry for bothering you here, but I have someone I would like to introduce you to,” he said, as he waved towards the parking lot and a barely visible limousine.

“Grab your gear, we’ll drive you in today,” she said.

“Moment by moment, this just gets weirder,” Amy thought.

If she could have heard it, another little voice would have said “You ain’t seen nothing yet”

As she walked to the car, a driver held open the door.

As she stepped inside, the car, she was utterly surprised to see Bill Gates sitting in the seat across from her.

“Amy, I’d like you to meet our primary benefactor, Mr Gates,” her manager Tyson said.

Bill extended his hand out, saying “I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you, Ms Newton”

“And this, sitting next to him is,” Tyson continued before he was cut off as Amy grabbed the man’s hand and shook it vigorously.

“Mr Medina! Oh my god your research has changed the way I look at the human mind, I am so, so…”

John Medina smiled, “It’s our pleasure, Ms Newton, really, you’ve taken my research and taken it to levels I’d never imagined.”

Mr Gates looked at the door expectantly, as Tyson stood there, and looked at Amy.

“Ms Newton, do you mind if we take you on a detour before taking you back to your current place of employment?,” Bill Gates said matter-of-factly to her.

Amy was still regaining her composure.

“Um. Sure,” she looked at her manager with an obvious air of nervousness.

Bill looked to the open door.

“We’ll meet up with you at the research facility, Mr Tyson, we have things from here,” he said.

It was the first time in the several years she’d worked with him that she saw her manager humbled.

It felt absolutely surreal, as the door closed.

“From what we’ve come to understand, you have some reticence about coming to work with us?,” Mr Gates continued as he motioned his hand to the driver who proceeded to drive out of her apartment complex.

Amy was speechless.

Had she known she’d be involved with people of this caliber, had she even known they were out there ‘lurking’, she’d have jumped at the opportunity without looking back. But this changed everything. Absolutely everything.

“Ummm. Well,” Amy began to stammer.

“Composure, dammit Amy, get yourself together!”, her mind screamed at her.

Amy couldn’t get over the fact that she was sitting in a car with the world’s wealthiest man, let alone another man who she attributed to being single handedly responsible for helping her get over her own depression and inspired her career choice.

“Being honest, I had planned on saying yes this morning, but I didn’t believe the gravity of the situation was as dire as I’d been told so I found my own reasons to agree,” she stopped, biting her tongue to force herself not to continue and to come across sounding petty by divulging more.

As the car drove down the 51 freeway they discussed trivial things, both Bill Gates and John Medina, a world famous molecular biologist who’d specialized in genetic influences on the human brain and associated mental disorders, discussed Phoenix, her work there, her career and life aspirations, but both of them remained tight lipped about their involvement.

The car turned off the freeway near the campus of Arizona State University, on University Rd, as Bill Gates looked at Amy and finally tipped his hand.

“Amy, what we’re about to show you is covered under the nondisclosure agreement you signed yesterday. You’re not to discuss what we are about to show to you to anyone, including your superior, Tyler. And for future consideration, we work by something called compartmentalization, if anything is presented in private settings it’s not expected to leave the circle of those present without explicit authorization from whoever a primary or in charge of the gathering,” he said.

Butterflies were turning in Amy’s stomach.

Something felt decidedly not right about the situation as the limousine turned to a driveway she’d driven by hundreds of times before off of McClintock and University in Tempe, Arizona, where a discrete sign to this massive facility which looked like some sort of refinery which read a cryptic and nondescript “Ocotillo Modernization Facility”.

“I’ve always wondered what this place was,” she said.

The two men looked at eachother, smiling simultaneously.

The gate to the place opened up, and as they passed the threshold, they came to a stop at an inner perimeter with men in BDUs armed with M16s guarding the entrance to.

Amy noticed the air had grown slightly darker as they had passed through the threshold from the first gate to the second one.

Yet there was no cloud in the sky and nothing obvious making it appear darker.

Bill Gates rolled the window down on the right side of the car as one of the armed guards walked up to the window.

“Mr Gates, Good to see you again,” he said as he looked at his clipboard, “Is this Ms Newton, and Mr Medina, I’m sorry I almost didnt see you there.”

“Good to see you again Corporal Stanley,” Bill Gates said, “We have our badges, do you have one for Ms Newton?”

Corporal Stanley looked at his clipboard, “I.. Yeah, Give me a moment,” as he walked back to the guard shack, and then back to the open window “Here you go, have a good day sir,”

“You too, Stanley,” Bill Gates responded, taking the badge and passing it to Amy.

Corporal Stanley flagged ahead as the gate lifted.

“Corporal Stanley, can you give us a moment before we cross the perimeter, I’d like to prepare our passenger,”  Bill Gates said.

“Sure thing, sir, just proceed on your own accord,” Stanley responded.

Amy’s creepy feeling was about to be validated.

“Amy, have you ever watched Star Trek?,” Bill said to Amy.

“Sure, who hasn’t?,” she said.

“You’d be surprised,” he responded. “As we went through the first gate, we passed under something referred to as a holographic cloak, which keeps this entire area masked from view by satellites or any other visual mechanisms which might be used to see what’s going on in here. The shadow formed because of this cloak’s effect on light, a very little of it is still reflected. In military terms, this is a classified and top secret installation, in civilian terms, it simple means it’s hidden and any attempts to publicly unveil we have a pretty good system in place which debunks it and if necessary questions the credibility of those attempting to discuss what’s really here. I need you to be aware of that before we cross the inner perimeter. There will be no discussing any of this with anyone. Period., The ”

Amy was a little miffed. She’d respected the NDA she’d signed, and didn’t understand the security measures being taken.

But she played along.

“I agreed to the terms of your contract,” she said, anxious about where they were taking her.

“As for Star Trek,” he said, “We estimate about 200 years ago, a space faring vessel fell to Earth, and crash landed here. In 1969, a single occupant was discovered in a previously impenetrable section – he was – for lack of better words – in a form of cryogenic stasis”

Amy smiled, broadly.

“Yeah, so what you’re telling me is we have an alien somewhere and the remains of a UFO,” she said, smugly.

Bill Gates smiled.

“Well. Not exactly a UFO. Driver, please cross the threshold and stop,” Bill Gates said as he waved his hand forward.

As they crossed the threshold of the inner perimeter, the car came to a halt, when Bill Gates opened up the door.

The shadow grew just a little more.

In front of the car, about half a mile away, was the unmistakable saucer section of.

“Oh dear God that’s the Enterprise. The USS freakin Enterprise,” she said.

At a 45 degree angle, it’s saucer section still embedded in the ground, towering above the desert, and behind it was the well preserved wreckage of the rest of the vessel.

Even in it’s wrecked state, it looked to be a mile long by a quarter of a mile in height.

“This can’t be real,” she said, “It just can’t be real.”

Bill Gates motioned for her to get back into the car as she struggled with her thoughts.

“Mr Gates, I don’t know why you need me here for this, what is this – what am I, I just don’t understand,” she said, clearly overwhelmed.

“Amy, Please just hold the questions until after you’ve seen him.”

“Who?”

That question was answered about 15 minutes later as she stood in front of a lifeless man who looked somewhat human with machines for appendages.

Something inside her screamed “Run now, as fast as you can, get as far away from this place as you can”

But she couldn’t.

As she stared at a real life Borg.

Which appeared, for lack of words, frozen in time.

 

The Offer

In the late 20th century, Amy Newton was interning as a molecular biologist while she was pursuing her Bachelor’s degree working on antidepressants for Arizona State University at the ASU’s Research Park in Chandler, Arizona.

Amy was clearly gifted – this was readily recognized by everyone she came in contact with, but as an intern who lacked any degrees and real credibility in her field, her early efforts and surprisingly savvy breakthroughs which had stumped far more educated scientists who were one and the same receiving credit for her work.

This lack of credit put a bad taste in her mouth, early on, which had Amy discussing shifting her major with her counselor to something less male dominated and friendlier for women – something like Marketing.

Appalled at the stereotypical treatment – her counselor insisted on her maintaining course.

And a friend of hers took it one step further and put in a call which changed her life.

In 1999, while packing up her desk, her internship complete and her Bachelor’s degree nearly in the bag, Amy was called into her manager’s office who then discussed the real nature of her work.

“The efforts you’ve put in have been nothing short of remarkable,” her manager and a few other men she didn’t recognize had told her, “and we’d like to make you an offer to continue what you’re doing.”

Amy bit her lip. She hadn’t told them of her plans to continue her education after receiving her Molecular Biology degree to combine that with Marketing and get into pharmaceutical sales.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this line of work,” she said.

She’d already made up her mind.

“Look, we’re well aware you’re planning on obtaining a marketing degree and plan to get into pharmaceutical sales. You’re clearly re more than well equipped both physically and intellectually to handle this role, but we think this path won’t be using your talents to their fullest.”

Amy seethed. She didn’t hear the compliment he intended which subtly commended her intelligence and abilities.

Instead. She’d focused on what had turned her off of this field to begin with.

Male chauvinism.

The words echoed in her mind.

“well equipped physically…. well equipped physically…. well equipped physically…. well equipped physically…. “

Would she be recognized for her work after her looks faded?

And what would happen to her debt?

No. She needed predictable.

Amy’s face was clearly emotionally guarded as she said nothing.

A older man in civilian clothes walked up to her and shook her hand.

“We should have introduced you to the others as you stepped into the office. Ms Newton, I’m Frank Nemen, General Frank Nemen, and I am here on behalf of DARPA – the Defense and Research Project Agency”

Amy shook his hand as she stood up.

The manager stood up, I’m sorry Amy, we’re blindsiding you a bit here.

“And I’m Anthony Grey, I am head of Research and Development for Pfizer.”

Amy shook his hand, unsure what was happening here.

“Michael Woodward, I represent the US Intelligence services, I’m not at liberty to say which branch”

Amy shook his hand, starting to feel overwhelmed and not knowing why.

“And I’m Adriana Peterson. I’ve been asked to be here by a high level authority I am also not at liberty to name.”

Amy ‘s sullen look had turned to one of unsureness as she sat down.

“Amy, again, I apologize about blindsiding you here. Now that you know the company you’re in, “ he slid a Non disclosure agreement across the table to her “If you would like to hear what we have to say next, I need you to agree that you will not discuss anything we talk with you about with ANYONE unless explicitly authorized by those you see in this room.”

Amy looked around the room.

“What is this about, what are you doing to me?,” she stood up, wanting to run from the room, but her curiosity was raised.

“Amy, it’s the nature of your work. We haven’t been able to discuss how important it is not just to us, but to this country and this world. We’d like to tell you more, but unless you sign that agreement, we’re unable to.”

She looked at the agreement on the desk.

The choice seemed so simple.

Walk away.

Don’t look back.

And pretend this all never happened.

It was safe.

It was secure.

It was easy.

And her future. Utterly predictable.

But there was a part of her that didn’t like that, and she knew it.

“IF I sign it and don’t agree to anything else other than not to discuss anything, am I free to leave?,” she said.

Her manager looked at her, with genuineness “of course you are.”

The others nodded in agreement.

“What have I got to lose?,” she thought, succeeded by “How hard could it be? Not discussing what they have to say. But the world? Naw, they have to be overstating things.”

She enjoyed what she did. And she had to admit she felt like she was selling herself short in pharmaceutical sales, falling back and pandering to the stereotypes she so loathed to make a living.

“Fine,” she said, as she reached across the table and signed the paper.

With this, the manager got up, and said “Would you care to join us in the meeting room, we have a presentation prepared for you”

What followed next blew Amy away.

Mentally.

Spiritually.

Everything Amy thought she knew about the world at that point was upended.

In the presentation, Amy learned that the work she’d been doing wasn’t for antidepressants as she’d been led to believe, it was for Nootropics or mind enhancing drugs.

Pfizer had been working in secret with the US Government to sponsor the research at ASU, in what they had referred to as a seed program. The goal of the work they’d had her do as an intern wasn’t to resolve problems for depressed people.

It was to continue the work based on privatized CIA research done in the late 1960s and early 1970s for a mind control program referred to as MKUltra, a program which undermined free will itself, and which not knowing the nature of the mind seemed to be undermining civilized society itself in a fashion that was predictably similar to the fall of ancient Rome and Greece.

Suddenly. Amy’s petty concerns about how to pay her bills seemed selfish.

Amy felt tiny in the chair at the end of the table watching all this in motion.

That’s when the offer of a lifetime came.

“We will not only pay for your continued research, we’ll pay for your school, in it’s entirety, ass we’ll expect you to pursue a Master’s Degree – and we’ll also sponsor your Doctorate research. “

She hadn’t thought that far ahead.

And this deal. Was too good to be true.

She grew suspicious.

That’s when the catch came.

“You can’t tell anyone about your decision to stick with molecular biology. To your friends. Your family. Your loved ones. You’ll become a marketer. We’ll provide you a cover. But if you take our offer, you are absolutely required to maintain strict confidence.”

And there it was.

But wait. There was more.

“Also, because of the nature of your work – you will be required to submit to being monitored 24×7 due to the nature of your work.”

“Jesus,” she said. “What are you some kind of perverts?”

“Miss Newton. I’ll be candid with you. Our success is contingent on one little girl who were all praying will succeed in her work. You. Those who monitor you will be professionals, but should you take this opportunity on, you will become our asset to protect from harm. If that means keeping you safe whether you’re bumping your head in the shower or intimately engaged with another, we and you need you to know we’re there. You’re an investment we intend on protecting at all costs.”

Amy was besides herself, unsure how to react.

“Can I think about this overnight?,” she said.

“Sure,” her manager replied, “But please don’t discuss anything we talked with you about today.”

As she left the room and began her drive home, she couldn’t help but think…

How can I tell if I’m being lied to?

The temptation and allure of having her education and lifestyle completely paid for was too….

Difficult to resist.

But was there more to this all than she was being led to believe?

 

The Spell Bible

I’m going to have to start referring to my dreams as alternate reality travels rather than just a dream.

Calling it an astral plane would be a misnomer. It’s just a different place in space and time where the world is constructed differently than my and has different physical rules for space and time which permit different things to exist.

In what I am about to talk about’s case.

It’s Magic.

I was walking through a real haunted house. Something that had been especially constructed for me and my entertainment. How it had been constructed and by who or what I am unsure of, all I know is I went through it once – just to get through it – and the next time I went through marveling at the amazing and beautiful detail I had missed on the first pass through on my rush to the finish.

It felt oddly similar to Disney’s Haunted House, maybe a tad more morose in feeling and atmosphere, as I walked from room to room – admiring the amazing detail – whether it was an old grandfather clock or it was a weird book that was left on a shelf that when I looked at it – it changed in front of my eyes, and after trying to analyze it more and seeing the 3d white leaves in the book change and alter shape, the material in the book became cloudy and wrote in the 3d clouds that had formed on the book’s page :

“There’s nothing more to see here”

As I walked through the place, I felt a distinct similarity to the Plane OF Hate as depicted in the original Everquest.

Similar feel. Similar layout.

And similarly haunted.

But this place was so much more detailed.

As I approached a corner of the building, two people ran up behind me.

It was my mom and dad.

I’d picked up a book as they’d ran up to me, and it felt as if they were trying to warn me of something.

About that time, a Banshee, similar to the Banshee I’d seen in an area called the Plaguelands of Worlds Of Warcraft appeared at the far side of the room. As if taunting my faux parents, I say faux because there was something off about them, the banshee approached, and they quickly reacted as the banshee fled away from us.

They made some gestures, raised their hands, and the banshee’s back suddenly had blood streaks cross crossing it’s back, as if it had just been hit by invisible whips my faux parents had conjured up.

I was nonplussed about the entire situation.

Not that none of it mattered.

I was there for the entertainment of it all.

The banshee left the room.

And then I realized I’d been holding the book in my hand, as I looked down at the cover.

“The Spell Bible” it had plainly written on the cover, in much the same way “The Holy Bible” appears on your typical black bible. Fascinated, I opened up the book, and was amazed at the intricate beauty of the book.

The pages were textured just like a standard bible. Remarkably thin, highly detailed.

As I thumbed through this extremely colorful book, I saw spell after spell of things I’d seen in so many spells from video games and dungeons and dragons books before. charm spells. fire working spells such as fireball, weather manipulation spells, healing spells, teleportation, mind manipulation, the list just goes on. The index seemed to keep going and there was no end to the variation and types of spells I was seeing. The book was amazing.

I drifted to a waking state in my real world.

The vision of the amazing spell book still firmly planted like a seed in my mind.


In 1994. I had just begun working for U-Haul Corporate in Downtown Phoenix, when a gorgeous 19 year old blonde named Amie Olson began working as a receptionist for our department.

At the time, I had a girlfriend who was living with me,  Lisa, but having developed a somewhat jaded and cynical regard for women in general thanks to my first wife, Donna Suppes, and her infidelity, it was everything I could do not to hold my grudges against all females.

Fortunately I matured fast, but when I met Amie, like most of the males at UHaul, we were all besides ourselves.

The girl was a stunner. Easily one of the most attractive women I’d ever met when I met her, and with that she had a wonderful personality, and would regularly join the gang in lunch outings and occasional happy hours.

She had a boyfriend, Dax, and while Dax was a decent looking guy, many of us guys wondered aloud what she was doing with him.

A few of my friends I was working with were all too aware my girlfriend worked as a stripper at Tiffany’s, which fascinated Amie one day as she questioned us males going to a local topless place for lunch when I responded to her, privately.

“My girlfriend doesn’t mind, and yes I do tell her I went, as she works at a topless place herself.”

Amie was fascinated. And invited herself with us guys for lunch that day.

From that point forward, the dynamics of the relationship with Amie – and with women in general – began changing for me. Sure, she was attractive as all hell, but because of my history I was trying to do the right thing by not hitting on her.

While Amie was always flirtatious with everyone, nothing ever came of it. In fact – she’d made it very clear nothing ever would. Not just with me. But with anyone. She was quite content with her boyfriend, Dax.

And Lisa began asking questions about this Amie girl I was spending time with, to which I assured her..

“There’s nothing going on.”

And there wasn’t. I was learning about this thing called self control. About looking and not touching. And about seeing women as more than just a sexual figure. Something I desperately needed at that point in my life anyways. And Amie was the perfect bait.

Because God knows how badly I wanted that woman.

Lisa, oddly, kept pointing the finger at me though, which diminished the amount of time I was spending with Amie, and with all my friends in general. I felt rotten a lot, trying to prove myself to a woman and constantly wondering – is what I am doing with male female relationships right? It felt right and mature to me. But with how my first marriage went, I couldn’t help but question myself.

One Saturday evening. Lisa had decided to work on a Saturday night when we had plans to go out.

I was miffed. She invited me to hang out at her club. Which, while I enjoyed Tiffany’s, I just wasn’t in the mood for.

So I called Jeff Kleinman, one of my drinking buddies, who said he was free and “Yeah, let’s do it”

In the meantime, Lisa had left for work, and within minutes after her departure I got a call.

“I wanna get hammered tonight,” Amie said, “Can you escape the wife?”

I wasn’t married, she knew I hated it when she said crap like that…

But I didn’t see a problem with it.

“Sure, I’ll pick you up in an hour,” I said.

I also added “Thought you had plans with Dax this weekend.”

“Yeah well he’s a dick”, she responded.

“Ok then,” I could tell she was feeling emotional, “We’ll talk about it later.”

It was actually a tough place I found myself in mentally though. Lisa and I had just gotten done arguing, I was desperately wanting attention from her that night and was miffed she was going to make money getting attention from other guys instead of me…

On the way out the door, I had a little devilish reminder flit through my head of a conversation we’d had at lunch a few weeks before.

We’d been at Centerfold’s Cabaret, a tiny topless club where the chicken sandwiches with french fries – which were really good – could be purchased for $4.99. Amie had joined a few of us guys, when a girl I had known from Lisa’s topless club – Chrissy – was also working here and walked up to me and said loud enough for Amie to hear.

“Me and the hubby went to Club Chameleon a couple weeks ago after you and Lisa mentioned it. We had a great time!”

On the way back to U-Haul – we’d driven together – Amie nonchalantly asked.

“What was that club she was talking about?”

I bit my lip… thought twice about telling her, but just fessed up.

“It’s a swinger’s club,” as she looked at me blankly, so I continued “a sex club. You go there, and have sex with your partner, watch others have sex, or have sex with other random people, sometimes it’s a free for all, sometimes it’s couples only, but it’s always about sex”

“Oh my god I want to go!,” she surprised me by saying, I thought this was my in…

“I can’t wait to tell Dax about it, where’s it at?,” she added.

My libido sank.

Re-enter devilish thought.

I’d learned a little more about Amie over the next few weeks, surprised about some of the things, and discovered she enjoyed some BDSM. Being a little miffed at Lisa. I walked to the closet near the door in the garage on the way out and picked up a dog collar and leash.

I saw opportunity.

About 20 minutes later, I was picking Jeff up. Now Jeff, at the time, was ragingly single, and I had an idea I needed him to instigate. Amie had already set her boundaries with me, but with him in a seemingly innocent act… By this time he hadn’t met Amie, so it was clearly contingent on whether he’d be game for what I had in mind.

“Jeff,” I said when he got in the car, “Remember Amie, the gorgeous blonde I told you about who works at UHaul with me?”

“You only talk about her every time we go out,” he said, smirking.

Perhaps I was a bit more obsessed with her than I thought I was. I blew it off though.

“She’s coming with us, wants to get hammered. Would you be up for a threesome with her at that sex club I told ya about?,” I said.

He smiled a devilish grin to me. “What do you have in mind?”

“First we go to a cheap bar that’s decidedly not happening to get us all a little drunk. Then from there, when we’re trying to find a place to go, why don’t you just casually mention in your own goofy way something like ‘Why don’t we go to Club Chameleon?’,” I said.

He smiled.

I’d expected him to say something along the lines of ‘let me see if she’s all that’.

But he just didn’t seem to care.

So first, after picking up Amie, Jeff was besides himself enthusiastic about the situation – as obviously – she’s a very very attractive woman. So we went to a place called Denim And Diamonds which was at the time a somewhat happening spot but at the hour we arrived – about 7pm, there was no one there. We had this massive facility nearly to ourselves, but the drinks were cheap so we ran with it.

Now Denim and Diamonds doesn’t start happening until 10:30. I knew this. Jeff knew this. But Amie didnt.

So Jeff instigated it at about 9pm by saying “This place is dead, let’s go somewhere else”

Amie and I agreed, as we got in my red Toyota Pickup truck and started heading towards the freeway as we were openly pondering where to go next.

Jeff smiles, leans over and says “Bri, isn’t that wild club you talked about a couple weeks ago – Club Chameleon around here?”

I put on my best act and acted nervous and somewhat antagonized.

“Jeff. Cmon dude,” I said.

He smiled again “I’m just sayin…”

Something sparked inside Amie. “HEY, isn’t that the sex club? I want to go! Let’s go!”

“My God,” I thought, “this response was totally unexpected.”

I pushed it, “Well, you can’t go in there just to observe. You have to participate. So you’re going to have to have sex with both of us if we all go there.”

It was like I’d died and gone to heaven.

Without batting an eye, she responded “I’m fine with that. Let’s go!”

I needed the act to seem real and needed to add in the final component though.

I opened up my glove compartment, picked up my cell phone which I had had a habit of keeping it safely stored in my car while drinking, and called Club Chameleon, asking for directions.

I’d only been the one time before, and since the club was in an unusual location tucked away in an industrial park I’d never gone to, it would be exceedingly easy to confuse the streets.

As I got the directions and the phone call disconnected, I acted like the phone call was still going…..

“Oh,” I added, “It’s theme night? What’s that mean? Uh huh. Ok. Uh huh.”

I got done on the phone, and hung it up, by then I’d been pulled over in a well lit parking lot knowing I’d have to turn around.

“It’s theme night. Amie, you’ll love this – BDSM. But none of us are prepared,” I said as I threw the phone in the glove compartment which hit the dog collar jingling it obviously.

Amie looked down at the dog collar.

Now I never, in a million years, thought she would be the one presenting the idea, but here it came…

“The collar!,” she reached to the glove compartment pulling it out, “I’ll wear that.”

Jeff, surprisingly, was just quiet.

It was so unlike Jeff.

I said. “That’s not enough. The parking lot’s private. How about you walk in front of us, and leave all your clothes in the truck?”

She smiled, it was that sexy flirtatious smile I adored that made me wish I had had a part of her and that.

“Sounds good. Let’s do it.”

It was all falling in place too perfectly and we all seemed to be enjoying it.

About 10 minutes later, we drove past the tiki lamps which were lit marking the entrance to the parking lot, which was clearly obstructed from passers by and the road. As we got out of the car, Amie was clearly feeling nervous about things.

“Maybe we should try to go in first,” she said.

I took the collar and gently placed it around her neck, and whispered lightly with my lips against her ear “I need you to trust me on this one. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

The excitement she had was palpable, and almost like a robot on command, she first took off her shoes, her sundress was next to come off, and her black panties and white bra were next.

She was completely nude, a completely natural nude as I learned sporting my favorite – a manicured lawn and beautifully crafted landing strip, with beautifully crafted size D breasts as the collar fit perfectly around her neck as I held it and she walked in front of us to the entrance to the club, in which there was no obvious markings or indication of there actually being a theme night.

I was hoping she wouldn’t notice.

But we were there – she completely naked and we all were committed.

Club Chameleon – back then was a single story building with a main area and dance floor to it, and several other rooms to it. It was definitely a little on the seedy side. And while it was very expensive getting in – $30 cover a person, this cover charge in part served to exclude the vagrants more than it did because of costs.

Amie walked in on the dog leash, and at first she tried to continue walking in front of us, but as we walked into the main area – where there were about 40 people had already gather, I could feel her excitement as she tucked herself between Jeff and I

The rest of the night is a little foggy. Amie tried dancing by herself, nude on the dance floor (there were others who were dancing disrobed as well) – and while it was couples night – our threesome was considered a couple – Amie kept being approached by couples trying to join our trio so she returned.

She wasn’t interested.

We weren’t interested.

But as Amie lured us to the dance floor. Jeff and I tossed our clothes to the side. And next to the dance floor is a pedestal that’s intended for dancing, but the perfect height to place a girl on and have a threesome, right there.

That’s the beauty of swinger’s clubs and sex clubs.

Anytime, anywhere, and while there’s a general no touching rules based on consent, and rooms where groping and swapping is specifically encouraged and expected, altogether it’s pretty much anything within good taste was acceptable.

We spent about three hours there. Jeff and I had our way with Am ie for about an hour and a half.

When we left, as Amie was getting dressed next to my truck, she said “There was no theme night, was there?”

She wasn’t upset or didn’t seem in the slightest bit angry at the deception. She’d known I’d paid attention to her on the various occasions we went to lunch, and I had figured this approach would be something both her and I enjoyed and I was absolutely right.

A few months later, I quite U-Haul, and while nothing ever happened again between Amie and I, she tried to convince her man – Dax – to go to the club with my girlfriend, Lisa, and I, to which he became suspiciously insecure. Lisa, who was concerned about Amie and I’s relationship anyways had actually suggested it, strangely enough, I suspect in part because she could control the situation.

It never happened. And Amie and I lost contact not long after that.

About 5 years ago, I received a message from Amie who was now living in San Diego.

“I just drove by a place that put a smile on my face and reminded me of you. I hope you’re doing well,” she said.

I suppose it’s people and places like this that make it difficult for me to move forward in my life. I’ve had so many weird, random, and unexpected occurrences such as these that I’m not willing nor ready to move on from. Moreso. I’m not done with experiencing them.

Again.

That’s why time travel is so stinking important to me.

Not because I’m interested in changing history or altering the world around me.

It’s just because I want to relive many of the wonderful experiences that made me appreciate life to begin with.

I will never forget Amie, doggystyle on the dance floor with me entering her from behind and Jeff in front.

What’s weird is I remember it ‘from a side view’.

Like a camera filming us.

Something like that just doesn’t get erased from memory too easily, does it?


On a final note.

Supergirl.

I was in a conversation with someone the other day as we discussed the weird emotional immaturity of so many shows which otherwise had such magnificent potential that was utterly wasted.

Take Supergirl for instance.

Adorable girl. But what they’ve done is taken Superman. Shaped her like a flat chested blonde haired woman who if she had more personality, style, and sex drive would be far more interesting.

But instead what they did was place this dimwitted, narrow minded and shallow woman who does nothing but fight all the time in this show. There’s no real ‘story’. There’s a bad guy. She seems to think that beating the shit out of the bad guys is her only job

Then there’s the real juvenile relationships that make me wonder – who wrote this?

A 13 year old?

I’ve watched television and movies for my entire life.

While I  would absolutely consider myself sexually adventurous and sometimes a little perverse, I wouldn’t refer to it as deviant behavior given the variety of both real life and internet examples I’ve had to compare myself with.

Which has me a tad perplexed and no longer questioning myself when it comes to relational issues.

It IS the world around me that’s a bit wonky.

Case in point. Supergirl. Sex is never even remotely broached as a subject, and love and attraction are treated like something I encountered in my pre-pubescent years back when I was literally 10 to 12 years old.

When Hollywood ‘Steps it up’ – and actually broaches subjects that might be found on the internet.

Ie: “Sex Tape”. Which I havent watched.

AS not only does it have that same ole 12 year old tone to it, but it also has that “we just found the internet and we consider this to be recent” feel to it.

It’s not just about sex though, it’s more than that with Supergirl.

And revolves around the fighting.

To me. To me. I would imagine a woman of Supergirl’s reputation, prominence, physical skills and assets would serve more to a society than yet another mortal combat foe. To me, a woman is – in part – more a sexual and sensual creature than a man.  I’m fine with gender roles and distinctions, and think it’s the show writer’s AND producer’s responsibilities to creatively develop content for this show which doesn’t just put a woman in Superman’s shoes. But puts the female spin on those abilities.

But what do we get?

An underdeveloped comic book clone of masculine character.

Who acts more like a 13 year old sexually.

With no real self-assuredness unless it’s ass kicking.

And in the end. We. I. Get a weak story about a week character by people who clearly don’t understand women.

Now your rebuttal might be something like “Oh, and they want something more like what Amie wants?”

To which my response would be.

“You betcha”

These creatures we refer to as women are far less timid as we males would have once liked to believe.

In any case.

Please. Hollywood. Give me a reason to watch Supergirl. She’s attractive. She can be smart. But she’s taking the dimwitted thing too far and at the same time she should be gaining confidence and losing this passion for kicking the balls in on the bad guys…

Maybe it’s time she. We.

Let the police and firemen do their jobs.

And we create new stories by embracing our emotions.

Supergirl. One day. I’d like to lead you by that collar, completely nude, into a club like that.

Where everyone knows who you – and we are.

Talk about fantasies. Taking a bad ass female character who’s invincible on a dog collar to a swinger’s club.

Fun fun.

Certainly not the goody two shoes female we see on tv, right?

Blog Stats

  • 203,970 digital attaboys!

RSS The Onion

  • An error has occurred; the feed is probably down. Try again later.

RSS Gamasutra

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 43 other followers