ar·​chi·​tec·​ture

Act I

Paris

The view from the floor to ceiling windows of my Paris office showcase the “Arc de Triomphe,” Eiffel Tower, and Siene River appearing as if in arm’s reach.

I’m at the pinnacle of my career as an architect. I may retire but before deciding, I wish to design that one elusive structure so eloquent, divine, and inspiring, the world will never see another.

My career began as a boy staring out of my bedroom window from our ranch in Montana. The vast openness and majestic mountains challenged me to imagine glistening landscapes of steel and glass.

I was the only child to my parents who were disappointed their son wasn’t interested in branding cattle, roping steers in the “Junior Rodeo,” marrying, and raising a family on the land handed down through generations.

I was half way around the world when I received notice my elderly parents perished in our family home burned to the ground by a lightning storm.

They’re buried on the farm, and I haven’t returned to visit their graves. Old hurts and family grudges never die. Besides, as Thomas Wolfe said, “You can’t go home again.”

The days and weeks to follow would prove otherwise.

I was born with a knack for artistic expression and an analytical mind which led me to a prestigious university where I graduated with degrees in Architecture and Structural Engineering.

I was fortunate to have been mentored by the most brilliant architectural minds in the world which landed me a partnership within our global architectural firm designing city skylines around the world.

I’m attending our firm’s quarterly “Partners Meeting” where we discuss projects underway and new business being sought. Last quarter’s meeting was in Florence. Next Quarter, we’ll be meeting in Qatar.

Claude, our Managing Partner, is droning on about the quarterly financial reports when he is interrupted by his administrative assistant, Rene, who wouldn’t interrupt Claude unless the matter was of utmost importance.

“Excusez-moi, Monseiur. Veuillez accepter ce message urgent.”

Claude reads a copy of an email and the expression on his face has become one of dignified restraint I’ve seen before when a once in a career design opportunity falls into an architect’s lap.

Could this be my opportunity?

“A new design endeavor has been brought to my attention which requires immediate response. This meeting is postponed. Nathan, follow me to my office.”

“What’s going on, Claude?”

“Put the call through now, Rene! You’re going to be reunited with an old classmate, Nathan.”

“Hello. This is Jonny Spano speaking.”

“This is Claude. I’m joined by your classmate, Nathan.”

“Long time, no speak, Nathan. How the hell have you been? Are you married or seeing anybody?”

“The answer is ‘no’ but I’m content, Jonny.”

“I link romantic avoidance to deep seeded internal conflicts and performance anxieties. I’ll let you in on a secret, Nathan. Consorting with women is stimulating and the best thing about ‘em, they’re expendable!”

“Thank you for the Freudian allusions and advice, Jonny. Are you still a student of Roman history?”

“Yes. I often dwell about living within the glory days of Rome, but I’m developing a new technology which will make the architectural achievements of the Roman’s pale by comparison which is why I sought you out, Nathan. I’m in Paris and want to meet you and Claude for dinner tonight! I have a project for your firm the architectural world will be speaking about for decades to come.”

“Nathan and myself will be happy to join you this evening, Mr. Spano.”

Jonny was an enigmatic character when I knew him back in graduate school. There was a rumor he flew private to join his classmates on campus.  Jonny made several fortunes in “M & A” and “take no prisoner’s hostile takeovers” bankrupting companies to void the pension funds and selling off the pieces of legacy corporations like so much scrap.

Jonny wasn’t a schmoozer and didn’t attempt to network with his classmates. His only friend in class was a nerdy guy named Norman. Norman wore an out of fashion short sleeve shirt replete with a pocket protector including mechanical pencils, colored pens, ruler, and protractor. His seventies decade slacks were several sizes too small and were thrift store castoffs. His black shoes were bulky, unattractive, and one of them likely camouflaged a club foot. Norman’s hair looked like he cut it himself with paper sheers and applied too much hair gel making his head resemble a greasy mop.

Rumors circulated on campus that Norman was an engineer with a top security clearance at a national laboratory.

What Norman lacked in appearance and social skills was exceeded by his intellect. I never saw him open a textbook, and I would watch him with the focus of a laser beam stare at the whiteboard and professor as if “sucking up” all of the information like a vacuum.

Norman had a blank stare never making eye contact with anybody except Jonny. I thought he might view the world through “kaleidoscopes eyes.” A world only he could understand.

Norman was quiet, unassuming, and stuck to Jonny like Velcro. I empathized with young men sharing Norman’s fragile personality living inside “closets” consumed with self-loathing, anxiety, and broken family ties.

Confused and sensitive men like Norman were prey, permitting themselves to become dominated in exchange for even the smallest morsal of compassion, even if it came from a wolf. Jonny had the ability to make allies from the unlikeliest of persons and Norman was fortunate to have someone who looked after him. I pondered what Jonny needed from Norman.

Soon after meeting Jonny, Norman returned to campus with a styled haircut and his new wardrobe was top of the line Italian fashion from head to toe. Most interestingly, Norman wore a pinky ring made of a ruby inscribed with a gold embossed “N.” I couldn’t help but think Norman was “branded” with Jonny’s mark like cattle.

Like Jonny, Norman didn’t attend the graduation ceremony although he was honored as Valedictorian. I hadn’t seen nor heard from either of these guys since our days in school a decade earlier.

Our chauffer pulled to the side of the road hurriedly before passing the narrow cobblestone pathway marked, “RUE ICONNUE.”

“I have been driving the streets of Paris for over forty years and this is the first time I visit this place, gentleman. You’ll find your destination at the end of the lane.”

We walked along centuries old cobblestones leading us back through the history of France and towards a grand walnut door with the number “13” illuminated by a lamp with a candle. I pulled the heavy brass door knocker resembling a lion’s head announcing our arrival.

The door opened.

We were greeted by a uniformed servant with a white wig and red regimental uniform you would see in a movie featuring the French aristocracy.

“Bonsoir Messieurs. Please follow me to the drawing room.”

It was a magnificent room with red velvet wallpaper and oil paintings of Louis XIV in beautiful gold leaf frames. The green carpet was thick and the exquisite pink vintage French chaise resembled a museum piece.

A beautiful young French maid wheeled a gold cart carrying fine liquors, Cognac’s, and wines. Claude was impressed by her beauty, short black French Maid’s uniform, and stiletto heels.

“Cognac pour nous deux.”

“Oui, Monsieur.”

We were handed two crystal snifter glasses filled with a heavenly vintage cognac which warmed our souls along with the subdued fire glowing yellow and red within the marble fireplace. It felt as if we were transported back in time to France as the Revolution was plotted outside the door or Napoleon’s return from victory was being heralded.

I heard the door knocker hit the massive walnut door and knew the “life of the party” had arrived.

“Tell that ‘Frog’ bastard turned celebrity chef Jonny Spano has arrived.”

“Eh, Jonny! How is my American prick of a friend doing? Judging from the lovely young woman on your arm, I trust very well!”

“Where’s Nathan and his boss?”

“Follow me into the drawing room.”

A recognizable celebrity chef accompanied Jonny and his escort into the drawing room.

“Here are your friends, Jonny. Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Henri. I welcome you to my secret dining room reserved only for the crème de la crème of my favorite customers worldwide. Tonight, I cook for you special. A meal fit for royalty. Even Jonny Spano! I take my leave and will join you for dinner.”

Jonny was accompanied by a beautiful and very young fashion model I had seen on the covers of magazines. If she was eighteen and a day, I would be surprised. She was a svelte blonde with striking features and piercing blue eyes. Jonny aged gracefully and wore his thick mane of long black hair in a “man bun.”

Jonny and the young lady sat. The French maid returned to take their drink orders.

“Water only for the girl. Bring me a whisky, neat!”

Jonny wore a maroon crushed velvet smoking jacket, ruffled pink tuxedo shirt matching the chaise, canary yellow silk ascot, black satin trousers, and red slippers with the trade mark symbol of a famous Italian fashion house. His left pinky finger demanded attention with a black onyx ring with what appeared to be a two-carat flawless diamond in the center.

“Behold my beautiful creature, ‘Pietra.’ I discovered her as a teenager living in a Slavic hellhole and molded her into the world’s next supermodel. Five feet ten inches tall, 33”, 22”, 33” with the BMI of an athlete.”

Pietra must have been freezing revealed by her areola’s which stood at “attention.” Jonny held Pietra tightly. His hand ran the length of her thigh hiking up the black low cut silk dress resembling negligee with each brush of his garish pinky ring. She was wearing no undergarments, and I pondered when Jonny might stop the “peep show.”

“Nathan, your partner Claude is a devil. He can’t keep his eyes off the French maid. I know that look. He’s hungry and savoring the scent of his prey like a wolf. I’ll bet he’s already made plans for a late evening rendezvous with the exquisite beauty.”

“Mr. Spano, you have a sense of humor, Sir. I’m a happily married man.”

“I’m certain you’re also a ‘good’ father, too. Let’s get down to business. ’Retro Reality Resort & Casino’ will be built in Las Vegas. I’ve already purchased the land. We’re ramping up the licensing agreements with the estates of famous deceased entertainers and current performers who are attracted to the lucrative licensing fees. Our proprietary lifelike holographic images of celebrities are infused with our AI software including the performers personality, style, delivery, and more. The structure you will design will be home to our technology. In simple terms, we’ll offer our guests a virtual reality experience without the headsets. A first of a kind, gentleman. We have the opportunity to deliver a different show with a push of a button. No stale performances. Endless original content delivered by AI. A win for the bottom-line for Retro Reality and the performers!”

The butler approached tickling a chime and announcing, “Dinner is served!”

The dining room was exquisite including a Louis XIV table, chairs, and place settings for ten as if it was spirited away from a dining room within Versailles.

The table and room were lit only by beautiful gold candelabra and black candles creating devilish appearing shadows prancing about.

Throughout the evening, beautiful compositions from the French composers Debussy, Satie, Ravel, and Boulanger played softly like sensuous accoutrements to the sublime five courses prepared with surgical precision by Henri.

Pietra sat silently at Jonny’s side staring at her plate while attempting to spear the remaining gourmet roasted carrot after racing through the entre. I surmised she was ordered not to make eye contact with anybody except on Jonny’s demand. Jonny’s hand stroked her fine hair as if petting a dog.

“You’ll never make the desired weight and appearance for the next fashion shoot will you darling? Garcon! Take her to the kitchen and have Henri put to work peeling onions. Your tears will remind you to adhere to your diet. You humiliated me by gorging your dinner like the impoverished street urchin I rescued and molded into a top fashion model. I made you a lady! Act like one, damn you. Get out of my sight, you impetuous little sow!”

Pietra ran to the kitchen like a frightened animal.

“Back to business, gentlemen! Retro Reality Resort & Casino is just the beginning for my proprietary technology. A premium show will be made available ‘on demand’ to subscribers which will be named ‘Living Memories.’ ’LM’ is designed for those able to afford the curation of their life into a ‘virtual scrapbook.’ AI will suck up every component of a client’s life from every source available. These fortunate clients will select ‘channels’ from their life they wish to relive.

“For instance, life with ‘Rover,’ marriage, prom night, and more.”

“Actually, Jonny, your project reminds me of the movie with Yul Brynner playing a robot cowboy whose circuitry goes berserk.”

“You’re wrong, Nathan! Motion picture ‘back lot’ western towns and robots requiring repair represent a ‘static reality’ as dictated by the computer programmer. We’re offering a virtual reality tailor-made for each customer. Every detail of somebody’s life is swept up by AI and ‘baked into’ the channels our client wishes to engage. We create lifelike holographic people including every human attribute and personality trait right down to a hangnail! We’re testing this concept now.”

“Where are you testing, if I may ask, Jonny?”

“My investors are a sovereign wealth fund who have conducted the initial testing somewhere in the world.”

“With whom?”

“I don’t ask and don’t care, Claude. They proved it works and gave me the ‘green light’ and money to move forward with the development.”

“Whose heading up the R & D?”

“Our classmate, Norman. I rescued Norman from a life of designing bigger and bolder nuclear weapons for a living. He’s brilliant.

“Decades ahead of the competition. He’s like a ‘kid in a candy store’ and very happy. He’s in Vegas as we speak heading up the engineering team.”

“How is it going?”

“We’re experiencing a psychological disorder named ‘separation anxiety.’”

“How so?”

“The participants form bonds with the holographic people and don’t want to leave them. It’s uncanny.”

“How are you going to surmount this issue, Jonny?”

“We’re testing psychotropic medications administered at the commencement of the experience to enhance it and subdue the ‘separation anxiety,’ Claude.”

“I presume the endless pipeline of sovereign investment funds likely testing prison ‘lab rats’ helps.”

“What are you, Nathan? My conscious? Is your firm on board with me or not, Claude? I have my choice of the top architectural firms in the world hungry to take on this project!”

“I apologize, Jonny. Nathan is the idealistic partner of the firm. You’ll have every resource and member of our firm devoted to this amazing experience.”

“I would expect nothing less, Claude. I’m Jonny Spano, and I will revolutionize Las Vegas by creating a show like no other found on planet earth! I’ve successfully battled naysayer’s my entire career, and if you have Nathan fall in line, your firm will profit beyond your imagination.”

I heard enough and was counting the minutes to the end of the evening. Jonny excused himself to fetch Pietra and Claude discussed several design build opportunities with Henri for his growing list of restaurants worldwide.

Jonny was heard screaming from the kitchen.

“You want to eat, do you?

“Eat every bite of this you little pig!”

Henri excused himself to quell the disturbance in the kitchen. I decided to recommend to Claude that our firm not accept the project and avoid the inevitable technical failures facing Jonny. Surely, Claude would understand any link to testing on prison inmates overseas would disgrace our firm.

It was time to excuse ourselves and leave the dinner party. As we passed the kitchen towards the doorway, I caught a glimpse through the kitchen door of Pietra kneeling while devouring a nearly raw cheeseburger. The meat juices and condiments covered her fingers and stained her satin dress.

Jonny held her firmly by the hair as he and Henri spoke. The kitchen help was oblivious to her plight as Jonny repeatedly tugged on her hair firmly with his ring hand while she struggled to eat like a starving animal.

A beautiful yellow and orange tart worthy of a place within an abstract modern art exhibit lay waiting next to Jonny’s shoe for her desert. A “treat,” of sorts, for “behaving” like Jonny’s “dog.” If it wasn’t for his plush shoes, he’d probably step in the tart and demand Pietra eat it from the soul of his shoe.

Jonny Spano from Las Vegas had become a twenty-first Century Marquis de Sade.

As we waited for our car to arrive, the rain began to pour washing the sultry spectacle and contemptible project off of me forever, I hoped.

“You disappoint me, Nathan. You didn’t have a morale quandary building skyscrapers in oil rich nations with histories of political and religious persecutions, did you? If you won’t accept this project, I have my choice of partners who will, and you’ll watch their careers advance from the sidelines!”

“I will accept the project, Claude. I’m on record there are moral and societal implications associated with Retro Reality our firm may regret!”

Act II

Las Vegas

Jonny arranged for me to stay in a glistening luxury high-rise condominium on the Vegas strip while designing Retro Reality. I was a connoisseur of city skylines, but I found the view of the brightly lit casino-hotels gaudy and chose to keep the blinds closed.

I was focused solely on the design of the structure while secretive research and development of the AI driven holographic people was devised, tested, and deployed from a nondescript warehouse next door to my trailer serving as an office on wheels. It had every earmark of a back of the hand slap across my face from Jonny. What a step down from my office view of Paris!

The warehouse was locked and only accessible to Jonny, Norman, and Norman’s assistant, Ping. We held a weekly meeting inside my trailer office.

“The damn holographic image and voice synchronization is off by a millisecond. Get it synced correctly, Norman!”

Norman skulked off into a corner and held his head down weeping. Ping was a young woman engineer. She approached to console him but he brushed her off, “Get away from me!”

“Norman, oh, Norman! Jonny’s sorry, old friend. I explained to you it’s all about the work and not to take it personally. We’re best buddies. Let’s hug it out.”

Like a shamed child, Norman walked into Jonny’s embrace. It was a sick, pathetic, loving, and awkward moment; a conflagration of emotions resembling a fiery car crash.

“Repeat after me, Norman. Who’s the most brilliant person in the room?”

“Me, Norman.”

“Who’s the engineer on the cutting edge of creating a great new transformative adventure park?”

“Me, Norman.”

“Who are the ‘dynamic duo’ of this transformative endeavor?”

“Jonny and Norman!”

“You need a break, Norman. I’m taking you away for your favorite chicken nuggets, fries, and vanilla shake meal. Please entertain me with your geometric proofs which would shame Euclid. I hope you’ll also delight me with your recitation of the Periodic Table backwards. I might test you with any element’s atomic mass!”

“I won’t disappoint you, Jonny. Can we go, now, please?”

“Of course, my dear friend.”

Jonny placed his arm around Norman and exited the building as if taking his dog for a walk.

Norman was one of Jonny’s “lab rats.” He was expendable once he flamed out and wasn’t necessary. God help, Norman. He would be lost without his lord and master, Jonny.

Although I pitied Norman, I thought who better to design human-like holograms with AI intellect than a pathetic lonely man living like one. To say Norman “lived inside his head” was an understatement.

Ping pulled a secreted smartphone from her lab coat.

“It pains me to see a brilliant man like Norman demeaned by the likes of an unscrupulous hotel and casino developer turned self-described showman. Look at this video, Nathan.”

Ping showed me test footage inside the warehouse. Jonny placed a high-tech glove on his hand, the lights dimmed, and the “King of Rock ‘n’ Roll” appeared in full Las Vegas glitzy regalia. Jonny extended his hand to the King who said,

“Thank ya’ very much for the opportunity to headline on the Grand Opening of the Retro Reality Hotel and Casino, Mr. Spano. Me and the fellas promise to put on a great show for ya’, Sir! Has anybody seen the Colonel?”

The lights came on, the King vanished, and Jonny removed the glove saying, “The glove worked! I felt a firm handshake and every finger of the King’s hand including the rings! Begin commencement of the full bodysuit!”

“It’s no longer about ‘smoke and mirrors,’ Nathan. Mr. Spano envisions and is demanding a full tactile interaction with the images.”

“Full tactile, meaning…?”

“Yes.”

It took courage for Ping to reveal Jonny’s sordid research, and I admired Ping for risking her career and being sent home to an unsavory reception by her government.

I took to walking Las Vegas Boulevard after work to clear my mind. Yeah, the noise, traffic, and brights lights are counterintuitive, but sometimes it takes equal amounts of lunacy to create normalcy.

I couldn’t sleep and retreated to my living room. I parted the curtains and stared out into the neon desert and pondered the implications of Jonny’s devilish enterprise. Why would somebody pay for a tactile encounter with a hologram when they can pay for the real thing up and down Vegas Boulevard?

I stared at the Roman themed casino-hotel with a marquee sign listing a beautiful famous songstress, and it all became clear. Jonny was a “pimp” offering his “John’s” the opportunity to engage with the famous, notorious, and anybody or anything his clients demanded. The moral and ethical implications made me quiver.

In Vegas casinos, night quickly turns into day, and vice versa. There are no clocks. Time moves silently while courteously staying out of the way of debauchery! I wonder how time might consider Jonny’s attempt to manipulate it?

The next day, I was summoned by Jonny into the secretive warehouse while escorted by Ping.

“Since you have been a skeptic of my enterprise, I have arranged for you to take a personal tour, Nathan. My research team has assembled a holographic AI infused dossier about your life named, ‘Nathan’s Photo Album.’”

Ping offered me a flute of champagne, but I refused. I didn’t feel comfortable consuming anything conjured up by Jonny’s lab. What the hell is the large glass sphere, Ping?”

“Our prototype. Look inside, Nathan.”

I approached the sphere which created the altered reality giving birth to the holographic people and environment I would soon encounter. I looked inside and saw it was constructed of mirrors. With each direction of my eyes, the mirrors created a different reality.  As I looked into the center of the sphere, I was looking down a long, endless tunnel. If I looked to the right, left, up or down, a different tunnel was evident. I knew it was an optical illusion tricking my brain, but it was lifelike.

“It’s Norman’s fusion of geometrical intricacy and light manipulation, Nathan.”

“A Polyhedron, Ping?”

“As an architect looking inside, you recognized Squares, Rectangles, Rhombus, Hexagon, Octagon, Polygon, Decagon, Circle, Sphere, and more. With the mirroring of these geometrical shapes and proprietary lighting, Norman is creating patterns of light and shadow of varying degrees of intensity.”

“It’s beautiful, but how does he create the holographic images?”

“That’s enough questions, Nathan! Ping isn’t permitted to explain our proprietary technology, and you’d never comprehend Norman’s blending of geometry with refracted light.

“Just assume it’s all about photons on steroids. What you see from the outside is only a tease of what you’ll experience inside. It’s like stepping inside your memory. Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

I reluctantly stepped inside and became confused by not seeing my reflection in any of the mirrors. These were not ordinary glass mirrors creating a reflection but some type of computer infused glass reflecting AI generated light images and science to create a virtual reality which was beyond my comprehension.

I closed my eyes to avoid become disorientated. I was provided no seat but told to stand still as the lights would dim to complete darkness.

Ping spoke to me from a speaker, “Open your eyes and place the band around your wrist. The band has a screen you activate with a swipe just like any smartphone APP. Each experience you wish to engage with has been marked.”

“How do I turn it on or off, Ping?”

“I will take care of that for you, Nathan.”

As the lights dimmed to total darkness, I lost my sense of direction unsure which was up, down or sideways.

It felt like I was floating until I found myself inside my boyhood home. I walked to my bedroom, our living room, kitchen, and almost every furniture piece was in its proper place.

“Nathan, come into the kitchen. I’ve made you a sandwich.”

It was my mother’s voice.

I entered the kitchen and was interacting with my beloved mother.  AI managed to capture every facet of her personality and appearance but imbued her with modern-day sensibilities and wisdom not available to her as a young mother.

“You’re features are very delicate and beautiful, son. I recall you sitting alongside me while I cooked or mended the clothing. I valued these precious times together. I knew you were a sensitive boy which kept you away from chores on the ranch. Your father was incapable of understanding but loved you nonetheless, Nathan.”

I was a grown man interacting with mom who was able to know her grown son simply by what AI was able to gobble up about my personality.

With my every word, mom was expanding her knowledge of me instantaneously, but most importantly and astonishingly, mom communicated to me in a manner I longed for as a kid which was to be accepted and loved for who I was and not what they expected.

I found dad watching a ballgame on the television set. Like mom, Dad was interacting with his son who was now a grown man. Dad was relating to me as if no time had passed between us.

“I’m sorry that I was tough on you, Nathan. ‘Tough love’ was the wrong love, son. My beloved son has created steel and glass cathedrals beckoning towards the heavens. You have the mind of a scientist, soul of a poet, and the hands of an angel. I’m very proud of you. Look at these coarse and clumsy hands of a rancher, son. You have the delicate hands of an artist! I love you!”

It was uncanny that my father conveyed loving understanding and appreciation for his son that I longed for as a boy.

I selected another channel and was now on our ranch where my parents are buried. I was standing above their gravestones and behind them was the remnants of our ranch house burned to the ground. It was snowing and my body immediately assumed I was standing in the cold. Goose bumps and bone chilling cold overtook me.

All of the former pain and emotional trauma of losing them, which I managed to tamp down over the decades, enveloped me like the lightning storm destroying our home and burning them to death. I struggled with the wrist band channel selector but couldn’t reunite with my parents. I tore the wristband from my arm and demanded, “Turn off this show, now!”

The lights slowly came on accompanied by some kind of psycho-infused agitation calming music Jonny’s psychologists dreamed up. My mind was filled with a “brain fog,” of sorts. My heart beat frantically, and I was agitated, emotionally saddened, and disappointed all at the same time. I understood the plight of the “lab rats.” I wanted to return to mom and dad even if it meant abandoning adulthood because they had become the enlightened parents I dreamed of as a child.

I was provided the opportunity to relate to my parents both as an adult and a son. I had so many questions for my parents which I could phrase from an adult perspective and judge their answers similarly.

“Retro Reality” provided me the unconditional love I craved as a child from my parents but they vanished with the swipe of a switch. The flaw of separation anxiety was now real to me within “Retro Reality.” I was forced to accept the reality that my parents weren’t “real.”

“You should have enjoyed the flute of champagne, Nathan. We’ve found it both heightens the enjoyment and eliminates the separation anxiety. I can tell you’re now a believer in my technology. That small sphere will be engineered to fit a theatre stage of any auditorium and will permit the audience to see the altered reality from outside, or, for the right price, invite clients inside to experience their own desired realities ordered like items off a menu. Finish your assignment, and I may permit a reunion with your parents!”

Damn, Jonny Spano!

Act III

Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar

 

I was deliberately kept away from the holographic imagery and AI research and development. It existed only in Norman’s brain, and that’s the way Jonny wanted it. Ping was assigned to update me with just enough information about the technology to insure me they were making progress. Ping was a brilliant and sweet young engineer who was dedicated to her research.

My heart wasn’t in this project and I struggled harder than any project to eloquently depict Jonny’s vision architecturally.

I envisioned a Beehive structure for Retro Reality the more I thought of frenzied gamblers and hotel guests in search of celebrity “buzzing” in and out of the casino-hotel-theme park.  My second scheme resembled the “Tower of Babel” based upon the premise of the Tower; a symbol of man’s efforts to reach God through human efforts as opposed to divine guidance.

I was invited back inside the secretive warehouse for a “rehearsal” performance as a precursor to its unfolding for Jonny’s sovereign wealth fund and high net worth subscribers. I took a comfortable reclining seat inside the auditorium.

The curtains parted and a spotlight lit up Jonny wearing a tuxedo, top hat, and holding a cane. Canned orchestra music filled the auditorium from state-of-the-art speakers. I would have laughed, but what was to come was too pathetic for laughter.

“Welcome to the show! I’m Jonny Spano, your host. I’m going to delight you with an entourage of celebrity beauties. With a swipe of my wrist channel selector, I give you, ‘Hollywood Hotties.’”

The lights dimmed, and to my surprise, holographic but lifelike recreations of lost celebratory beauties walked across stage speaking as if they knew each other. This was a real-time conversation, referencing today’s headlines as far as I could hear.

Jonny approached each, kissing them on the cheek and exchanging unrehearsed banter. It was simply beyond imagination.

Jonny made advances on an iconic deceased sexy actress he addressed as “Chérie” who adroitly rebuffed him with exactly what I would expect from her. With each of Jonny’s words, the AI driven holographic woman gained knowledge about Jonny and what to say.

“I’m not interested in competing with a pinky ring for your attentions, Mr. Spano. Take your ring to bed, darling!”

It was a comical end to a short skit where Jonny Spano proved his point. It was next generation holographic imaging technology infused with AI learning enabling the lifelike images to instantaneously add real-time conversation to their repertoire of encyclopedic knowledge of their character and client.

It was fantastic and unreal. The abilities of the holographic people are best described as “speed reading” with one-hundred-percent reading comprehension.

Ping assumed the added responsibilities of caring for Norman’s daily needs which freed up Jonny for his perverse pursuits.

In a laboratory filled with scientists wearing lab coats, Ping wouldn’t stand out. I’m certain she spent her career as a brilliant “worker bee” consumed with her research and determined to please her supervisors.

She was a twenty-something woman from Asia, petite, wore her hair short, and the thick black frame glasses masked her delicate facial features. Behind her scientific facade was a kind and caring woman I suspected yearned for love including a husband and children.

She genuinely cared for Norman, but he wasn’t capable of picking up her “signals” and wouldn’t know what to do with her love. It was a shame. She’d be good for Norman.

Ping confided in me that Norman was becoming aggravated with Jonny’s infatuation with Cleopatra. Yes, the Queen of Egypt! Norman was ordered to spend considerable time in developing Cleopatra for Jonny’s pleasure during the evenings out of sight of everybody except Norman who “pushed the buttons” for Jonny’s pleasure.

We were all Jonny’s whores in one way or another. I wondered what my holographic parents would have thought of my work for Jonny?

Ping arranged for a meeting with me, and I obliged her outside the confines of the property or my apartment, all of which were likely under surveillance. We met at an off-strip coffee shop which had seen better days in the fifties. It was filled with locals.

“I’m not confident the direction Mr. Spano is taking our research should be furthered.”

“Please expand, Ping.”

“Mr. Spano has me and Norman living in a double wide trailer which is surrounded by prison-like fencing on the property. He wants to keep us ‘focused’ on our work, but he really wants to sequester and protect his game-changing research by keeping tabs on us like prisoners. Norman is the most brilliant man I’ve met, but I’m babysitting a toddler! I attempt to engage him in conversation, but he’s a confused child who worships Mr. Spano because he rescued Norman from a group home for adults on the ‘spectrum.’”

“You’re a brilliant engineer, Ping. Why do you wish to be a babysitter?”

“I know with time and patience, I can help Norman mature emotionally. I’ve become fond of Norman and see the sweetness and kindness lurking below his superior intellect. He mentioned to me that he was abandoned by his parents and placed within a state hospital that didn’t measure his intellect. He was mistreated and molested. Norman will only eat food children prefer like plain hot dogs, chicken nuggets, pasta with butter, and vanilla ice cream. Every attempt I make at introducing him to new food is thrown against the wall. Norman wanders about the quarters reciting, ‘Einstein was wrong. I can prove it.’ Norman retreats to his mathematical proofs or building blocks from which he creates amazing abstract creations similar to images found in geometry textbooks. I have to bathe Norman in a tub while he plays with floating toys. Mr. Spano has directed our game-changing technology away from a healthy engagement with history towards a perverse orgy with any figure from history the client wishes to engage. Mr. Spano is wooing subscribers with kinky or history altering scenes they can order up like a pay per view porn movie or a prostitute. He has Norman conjuring up famous women throughout history for his nightly personal pleasures.”

“Which women, Ping?”

“Out of decency and respect for these women, please allow me to refrain from sharing their names, but I assure you, they are the most beautiful and influential women from the fine arts and history. Norman is agitated, anxiety ridden, and I fear, on the edge of a nervous breakdown. He’s taken to riding a kid’s spring rocking horse reciting, ‘Who’s the dynamic duo? Jonny and Norman.’ Mr. Spano is also hosting macabre mixers with the monsters of history sitting around a table plotting the overthrow of the world in real time conversations with present day sensibilities and armed with the knowledge of their tactical mistakes.”

“Who are these monsters, Ping?”

“Ego Maniac empire builders, psychedelic psychopaths, demonic despots, maniacal military marauders, and cruel cultists. It’s so lifelike, I fear one of them will walk out into public to wreak havoc again. We’ve perfected a bodysuit enabling the client to enjoy tactile sensations with the holographic images.”

“You mean to tell me the participant can feel more than a handshake with the “King”?

“Yes, and much more. I discovered Mr. Spano engaging in sex acts with characters from history.”

“How?”

“Mr. Spano is able to carry out the sex acts by virtue of human ‘employees’ clad in our proprietary tactile sensation’s bodysuits. He’s using Pietra to provide the necessary anatomy to carry out the sordid research to keep it under wraps. It’s only a matter of time after Retro Reality is built when additional ‘staff’ is hired according to client specifications. The bodysuit enables the actor to ‘blend into’ and disappear within the holographic character and assume full control of its personality.  The actor provides the human anatomy necessary for the tactile sensation and penetrations Mr. Spano demands. His choice of historical figures often crosses the age limit of ‘consent’ by today’s standards. It’s now clear to me what Mr. Spano is wishing to sell to his wealthy clientele. I find it offensive, repugnant, and disrespectful. I fear we’ve all crossed the line into criminal behavior. It’s a sordid affair, and I’m ashamed to be complicit, but I fear for my safety and Norman’s if we refuse Mr. Spano’s directives.”

“Just to be clear, Ping, you’ve created the opportunity for an intimate experience with Hologram images of celebrities and historical figures?”

“Yes! Norman also resents the work and isn’t happy.”

“I’ve noticed Norman has reverted to wearing kid’s animal print pajamas under his lab coat foregoing the Italian wardrobe provided by Jonny. I sense he’s ready to ‘break’ based upon what you’ve told me. Thank you for sharing with me, Ping. Our conversation shall remain confidential.”

To think that Norman was now playing with plastic boats inside a bathtub and previously designed nuclear weapons was beyond ironic.

I wasn’t sleeping and took to walking up and down the Vegas strip until morning. During my walk, I encountered women made of flesh and blood who were on their evening “strolls” and available for hire. If only they could imagine they’d soon be put out of business by some of the most iconic, albeit, dead beautiful women in history. They’d never believe it.

I fell asleep at my drafting table and awoken when called by Ping to break up a heated exchange between Norman and Jonny outside the warehouse.

“I’m not working on this project anymore! You’re spending all of your time with the girly holograms instead of me!”

“Now you listen to me, Norman. You’re my employee, and you’ll do as your told. I pay you very well and gave you the opportunity to develop world-changing technology instead of toiling away at the government lab. You’ll be wealthy when we finish this project, so get to work or I’ll return you to that cage inside the group home or I’ll sell you to a circus overseas where you can earn your keep acting as a human calculator!”

“No, please. I don’t want to leave you!”

“Do as you’re told, and I might keep you around, Norman! What are you doing here, Nathan?”

“Is it necessary for you to berate Norman?”

“Stay out of this you pompous Francophile! I resent your erudite ways and smug sophistication. The masculine office towers you design are clever methods of masking your inner androgyny. You and Norman are Eunuchs! And by the way, Claude sold a controlling share of your firm’s equity to the sovereign wealth fund backing Retro Reality. Get back to work or I’ll have your head on the proverbial guillotine back in Paris!”

Norman and I stood still and suffered the abuse. I could read in Norman’s face that something “snapped” and his relationship with Jonny would never be the same. Something “snapped” inside of me, too. I sensed it was the beginning of the end for Jonny.

I worked long into the evening and left the trailer to stretch my legs. I walked over to the warehouse. To my surprise, the warehouse door was unlocked, and I removed my shoes to walk quietly down the hallway towards the auditorium where I heard familiar rock music. The door was slightly ajar and I witnessed the unreal.

Norman looked down at the channel selector on his wrist and with a few swipes, added each member of the famous British rock group who began playing, “Happy Jack.”

Norman took a position as a lead singer of the famous group and began singing,

…The kids couldn’t hurt Jack
They tried and tried and tried
They dropped things on his back
And lied and lied and lied and lied and lied
But they couldn’t stop Jack, or the waters lapping
And they couldn’t prevent Jack from feeling happy…

Norman sang with emotion like he wrote the song, moved with extraordinary rhythm, and found a way to enhance the famous group who backed him like a member.

Norman was “happy”!

Who would have thought Norman had a playlist?

I quietly exited to allow Norman to enjoy the moment.

Days turned to weeks and Opening Night was nearing.  We were seated inside the auditorium for a final trial run before the investors and clients would be invited. The stage of the auditorium had been transformed into a transparent sphere-like enclosure constructed of the glass I experienced inside the prototype.  In simple terms, the stage was configured into a giant virtual reality eyepiece we all could view from our seats inside the auditorium.

We were presented with a Program depicting the characters, and I saw in bold print, “Jonny Spano playing the role of Brutus.”

I saw Jonny slip into the body suit which would permit him to blend into the image of Brutus. The lights of the auditorium dimmed and lifelike holographic people clad in white robes gathered inside the Curia of Pompey. It was Act III of “Julius Caesar,” and all of the gang was assembled: Caesar, Brutus, Cassius, Casca, Decius, Metellus, Trebonius, Cinna, Ligarius, and Mark Antony.

Artemidorus approaches Caesar with his warning letter but Caesar disregards it and brushes Artemidorus aside, saying,

“What touches us ourself shall be last served.”

As the treacherous murder was about to play out, Cleopatra unexpectedly entered the scene, and I gasped. The holographic image of Cleopatra was amazing. She was more beautiful than I imagined, but she also had a decency and humanity about her that was never depicted within any history book I read.

She placed herself into Mark Antony’s arms scolding Brutus, “Your boring nightly summons of me and your childish playtime have led to your demise. Kill Jonny masquerading as Brutus, Mark Antony!”

I was startled. It’s one thing to attempt to rewrite history, but rewriting Shakespeare is quite another!

It was the ultimate betrayal for Jonny and so real, Jonny screamed but couldn’t find the exit as he was part of the holographic scene depicting the Roman Senate and was no longer on the stage of the auditorium where he could find the exit,

“Help me! Somebody, please turn them off!”

“I am the Queen of Egypt and will live forever throughout history despite your feeble toys!”

Only in Norman’s brilliant mind, could the Hollywood starlit of Jonny’s dreams, “Chérie,” enter the Roman Senate, join Cleopatra by her side and comment, “You tell them, darling.”

I looked about for Norman and saw him climbing into a bodysuit, walking towards Mark Antony, and blending into his image seamlessly. He stepped toward Jonny and thrust a dagger into his chest repeating the line Caesar was to speak, “Et tu, Brute?”

As Jonny bled out and was dying, he watched his “lab rat” Norman tear off the mask to his bodysuit revealing himself.

“How could you betray me, Norman? You dare assume the role of Mark Antony! You’re a freak of nature blessed with a once in a century intellect confined within a pathetic broken chard of castoff pottery I rescued from a life of obscurity. I own you! Save your master, now!”

Out of nowhere, Pietra stepped into the scene holding a smartphone and stood above Jonny straddling him with both feet placed alongside his head looking down upon him with no pity. Cleopatra and Chérie stood on either side of Jonny.

“Pietra, my darling, please call for help before I die!”

“You’re the ‘sow,’ Jonny. It was my pleasure to watch you butchered, darling.”

Pietra held the smart phone over Jonny allowing him to catch a final glimpse of beauty before dying. She held up the phone for all to see with an image of a beautiful orange and yellow tart.

She dropped the phone next to Jonny’s head and pierced its screen with her stiletto heel as if stabbing Jonny through the heart.

As Jonny took his final breaths, he watched Norman remove his coveted onyx pinky ring like a toreador severs the ear from a dead bull. He placed it above his own pinky ring and walked towards two sparking electrical cables, picked them up, placed them together, and electrocuted himself to death, mouthing, “Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.”

The Roman Senate vanished along with the holographic characters leaving behind only the bodies of Jonny and Norman on the high-tech sound stage Norman invented.

Just as Jonny lived his life with flamboyance, he died with dramatic flair, courtesy of Norman. After all, who gets the opportunity to die inside a Shakespeare play? Call it arrogance or brilliance, we’ll never know. Jonny Spano always kept us guessing.

Ping approached me teary eyed,

“In keeping with Shakespeare’s immortal writing, ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow’ for Norman. I think he wanted to join Jonny in the afterlife. Poor Norman. I loved him and knew I could touch his beautiful soul and possibly, his heart, with time and patience. Had Norman been mentored by good people and never met the likes of Jonny Spano, Norman’s potential contributions to the benefit of society are incalculable. Sad, lonely, Norman.”

I wanted to be with my parents. I decided to retire to my family’s ranch where I would restore the property and heal inside the wilderness beauty. I extended an invitation to Ping to live on the ranch while she applied for political asylum. She didn’t want to return home to the nation whose sovereign wealth backed Jonny’s demented dream. She would be meeting me at the airport.

My memories of the “Arc de Triomphe,” the Siene River, and Eiffel Tower will always remain steadfast reminders that history remains unchanged but only the future may be altered. However, courtesy of Norman and Jonny, my broken relationship with my parents was healed. I’d be forever grateful to these tragic characters for they permitted me to defy Thomas Wolfe’s admonition, “You can’t go home again.”

As I waited inside the lobby of my condominium for the ride to the airport, I glanced towards a newspaper rack and purchased a copy.

The headline read:

MURDER OF VISIONARY ENTREPRENEUR

Las Vegas homicide detectives have closed the murder investigation of popular casino-hotel developer and visionary holographic design innovator, Jonny Spano, linking the murder to a disgruntled employee. The state-of-the-art Retro Reality Hotel and Casino development has been cancelled and the land sold to an unidentified purchaser.

Investigators were able to further link the employee to the murder after DNA saliva tests from a sealed envelope mailed to police headquarters were determined to be those of the former employee who confessed and included a page torn from Jonny’s personal diary reading,

“One of the most beautiful images a man may witness is a woman sipping cognac; sauntering down the boulevard with shopping bags past busy storefronts with colorful lights; and gracefully swinging a golf club resembling the perfect arc of a rainbow equaled only by Mother Nature. I hope to capture these images and more in a bottle. J.S.”

It was ironic Norman remained an obscurity in death and wasn’t even recognized as the murderer by name. I would like to think Norman wanted to provide us a eulogy about Jonny from beyond the grave because the journal entry revealed a poetic appreciation of women hiding inside Jonny’s otherwise contemptible reduction of women to play toys.

Retro Reality became the manifestation of Jonny’s diary entry. Jonny’s “bottle” was made of glass infused science releasing a “Genie” which enabled me to repair a fractured relationship with my parents I will savor the remainder of my life. I was grateful to Jonny but saddened his “Genie” wasn’t made available to others who could be healed by its promise.

I suspect Norman believed the “Genie” should remain inside the bottle because it would only be a matter of time before Jonny, and others like him, returned from one “dimension” or another with more elaborate and sardonic pleasures to sell.

Norman assumed the role of Shakespeare’s “Soothsayer” speaking from beyond the grave with a warning to future generations, “Beware the Ides of March.”