LifeGames Corporatoin

by Michael Smorenburg

  “A hard cost is a very sophisticated nutritional plaster they’ve developed. The plasters are one of the secrets of the Time Dilation…. without them you’d be like a car without a gas tank. They’re amazing little devils! NASA use them on space walks, but these are…” she checked herself before she spilled more beans. “… they’re… it’s complicated and I forget the details… Anyway, the company also charges a percentage of the rate, which I mentioned earlier, for the time that you experience, regardless of how much actual time you’re hooked up for!”

  Jacky was trying in vain to grasp what Catherine was saying; accounting had never been her strongest subject.

  “It’s really very simple,” Catherine proceeded carefully, “let’s say that you’re a soldier and the military want to test you on an exercise,”

  She felt a small pang of guilt as she repeated Ken’s words verbatim. She hated parroting someone else’s thoughts, but her depth of knowledge on the subject disqualified her from explaining it in her own words;

  “You could physically go to site and do the exercise in the traditional way, but it may take several weeks and the entire staff… companies and battalions… and of course, assessors, would have to be there with you,” she explained, “It may also be dangerous and the repercussion on our environment would certainly be costly.”

  Jacky was smiling at Catherine, enamored with admiration for the grasp that Catherine had of the subject.

  “With LifeGames, the soldier can be assessed under battle conditions for a fraction of the cost. There’s no danger involved and the computer spits out its assessment whilst the Generals or Admirals sit back and watch in comfort. But weeks of real time would cost too much. You’re still following me?”

  Jacky adjusted herself off of the jet of water. The area that it had pummeled was numb and beginning to itch with the increased blood-flow, “Only just,” her mind had wandered and she wasn’t following but she agreed anyway, enjoying Catherine’s exuberance, “… carry on.”

  “Time Dilation is LifeGames’ latest available option. They can speed up your brain twenty or thirty fold. It’s the highly sophisticated software and hypnosis that make it all possible,” Catherine explained the dynamics of Time Dilation exactly as Ken had explained it to her, “Got it?”

  “Uh-ha,” Jacky grinned, finding a new and particularly pleasurable jet of water.

  “Come on Jacks, be serious…” Catherine prodded her playfully in the ribs with a toe. “Where was I? Oh yes. You get nothing for nothing, so besides the cost of the nutritional patch, the army must pay a premium for the technology and the value that they’re getting out of it.”

  Jacky sighed in response with pleasure.

  Determined to finish, Catherine prodded her again and continued relating her story;

  “Although they’re only using twenty hours of computer time, their man experiences thirty times that… and thirty times twenty is…?” Catherine ran some quick mental arithmetic, “…six hundred hours! So even if LifeGames charges them half of the hourly rate, the bill will be a fortune—but the training will be half price with much more gathered data…. And it only costs LifeGames one patch and twenty hours to sell three hundred hours of exorbitant fee! It’s no wonder they’re the top profit earner this year in Forbes!”

  Catherine’s words hung in the air as she watched Jacky arching with the pleasure of the water’s thrust. She had become wrapped up in her explanation and only now realized why Jacky hadn’t concentrated. She waited silently as the final waves of spasm washed through Jacky’s body.

  The experience left Jacky glowing and grinning with contentment.

  The warm water and salts had invigorated Catherine’s aching body. For the time being, her limbs were free from pain;

  “You dirty little rascal! You didn’t hear a word of what I said, did you?…!”

  She leapt across the tub, launching a playful attack on Jacky.

  After play wrestling, the two wrinkled prunes climbed out of the bath and patted each other dry with luxuriously thick towels before preparing for bed. In bed they chatted quietly on a range of subjects as the strains of Mozart filled the cavernous bedroom with the unobtrusive power that only expensive sound systems can deliver.

  The low voltage lights were dimmed to a canary yellow and the setting was idyllic with the large marble busts atop their stone columns assuming the role of an erotic guard of honor.

  Set into one wall was a huge exotically stocked fish tank, and from its own mood lighting a kaleidoscope of colors danced to the tune of its softly humming electric pump. The light caressed the lush greens of the potted palms and deep reds of the Persian wall rugs.

  Jacky tended Catherine’s injuries, her soothing touch in symphony to the surroundings. When the Mozart playlist ended, only the fish tank’s gurgle was audible. Jacky rose from the bed and glided naked across the room to pull the patio door closed, her taut body drenched in soft light that played wonders on her deep mahogany tan. Catherine stirred, feasting on the vision of her lover. The aches that Jacky had recently massaged still throbbed to the memory of her touch.

  Jacky slipped back into the bed and cuddled up close, “I’ve been thinking…” she whispered close to Catherine’s ear, “imagine having sex with that computer!”

  Catherine jolted awake, guilt charging through veins, but she lay very still, wondering if Jacky had noticed her response. She didn’t have long to wait because within minutes Jacky had slipped into oblivion leaving Catherine watching the fish tank’s light making fiery dragons fight on the wall. Fueled by the guilt of her planned infidelity, her aches began to seep back.

  Finally sleep came bringing its tormented psychedelic nightmares, a serpent bearing Ken’s face was trying to force its way into her cockpit; standing impassively by, watching her feeble struggles, were Nancy and Jacky, arm in arm. By their side stood a hooded old priest shouting damnation for her soul.

  Jacky awoke with Catherine’s tossing and thrashing. She pulled Catherine to her naked breast and consoled her like a mother to her child, “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. There’s nothing to fear. Sleep baby, sleep.”

  Catherine’s dragons transformed into romping cubs as the fish tank gurgled a soft and comforting lullaby.

  Chapter 13

  “In league with your master,” Nancy repeated.

  It was lunchtime and Leon had been playing the recording of his latest session with Roger to her. She was using her spare time to type transcripts of the sessions, a task that had cost her many sleepless nights as the Bishop’s words began to invade her dreams.

  “You’ve got a restless spirit,” An old friend, who claimed to be psychic, had once told her; “…it’s a gift you should develop… learn to understand the spirit world, just open your mind.”

  The thought of it creeped Nancy out, and she’d ignored the advice.

  Reading accounts of the paranormal or watching horror movies was one thing… thrilling, but it was quite another thing to pursue the supernatural and not know what calamity it might bring. Nevertheless, as time had worn on, like it or not, the Bishop was opening what Nancy had intended to keep shut.

  “In league with your master,” she repeated. “Well, we’ve said ‘to hell’ with Ken enough times. I suppose the spell finally worked,” she laughed. “Then again, I’ve always suspected that he’s sold his soul to the Devil. This…” she swept her pointing index finger around to encompass all of the empire that Ken had accumulated into her statement, “…doesn’t happen for everyone.”

  Leon grinned, “Now, now Nancy. Jealousy will get you nowhere…” he chanted the child’s lyric.

  “Jealousy? No thank you! We both know what it does to you,” Nancy was referring to Ken’s moodiness and drug problem. She abhorred moodiness and had made an art out of being cheerful.

  “Tut-tut,” Leon clicked his tongue at her in jest.

  Nancy pushed the play button to resume the recorded session “…who uses foul balm
s and sweet words to recruit soldiers into the armies of the Anti-Christ!” She paused the recorder. “My guess is… it’s Ken’s after-shave that the Bishop is referring to. He baths in the stuff you know?” Nancy nodded, confirming her words to herself. She joked on, “I’ve spoken to him a hundred times about it, but it’s no use Leon, it’s absolutely no use,.” She let her voice trail in mock weariness of her fruitless struggles.

  Leon chuckled at this lovely lady whom he had come to care so much for.

  “And sweet words,” Nancy continued, “…do me a favor! If that isn’t Ken then I don’t know who it is… Sweet words… He’s the smoothest operator I’ve ever come across and believe me Leon, I’ve come across a few! Ken could actually slide up-hill, that’s how smooth he is.”

  “Who’s smooth?”

  The voice was like a gong to the temple, Nancy felt giddy.

  “Afternoon Nance, afternoon Leon. Can I see you in my office, Leon? Any messages for me, Nance?” Ken kept talking, as he walked from the entrance door, past them and into his office.

  “Ken?” Nancy’s voice quavered slightly as though she’d seen a ghost, “Afternoon, I thought that you were in Korea today?”

  “I couldn’t make it Nance, I had something come up. Are you coming, Leon?” Ken hadn’t looked back as he strode with purpose, speaking over his shoulder as he went.

  Neither Nancy nor Leon knew if he had spoken any more words as he disappeared through his door, into his office.

  “Faaaaaark…. Did he overhear us?” Nancy mouthed to Leon, her eyes wide with fright.

  The instant that she had heard Ken’s voice she’d scooped the recorder and transcript from her desk. The flurry of action had drawn extraordinary attention to their otherwise innocuous presence on her desk.

  “Coming… just coming…” Leon sang in a relaxed voice.

  He shrugged in answer to Nancy before shuffling away towards Ken’s office.

  Halfway to the door he leapt into the air, clicking his heels like Charlie Chaplin.

  “Come in Leon…” Ken was wading through the notes on his desk, “…close the door.”

  Leon kept eye contact with Nancy as he closed the inter-leading door, moving with chameleon speed, pulling horror faces at her.

  Nancy wriggled and twisted, trying to hold back laughter borne of terror. Ken watched Leon’s performance from behind, accurately judging that his eccentric colleague must be up to something crazy.

  All that he could do was shake his head in amazement at what made the little man tick. Not wanting Leon to know that he had seen the goings on, Ken timed his returned attention back to the paper shuffling perfectly with the door latching closed.

  “What’s up then Ken’o? What’s up?” Leon was as sprightly as ever.

  Since Ken’s blow-up over the hypnosis issue, their relationship had begun to repair itself, they’d had dinner together and Ken had accepted that Leon had meant him no harm and had in fact uncovered very little damning information.

  “A little problem, Leon. I know that I can trust you and I thought that I’d open up. Something has been getting me down lately.”

  Leon studied Ken, realizing that he betrayed all the symptoms of insomnia. For several weeks deep rings of exhaustion had encircled his eyes and he’d been experiencing uncharacteristic lapses in concentration.

  Ken had come to the realization that he was in desperate need of psychological help.

  He’d weighed up the pros and cons of using Leon against involving an outside private practitioner. It wasn’t a question of cost; rather, by nature he was untrusting and suspicious of psychologists or psychiatrists, and Leon was the only exception to his paranoia.

  He’d further rationalized that he need only tell Leon what he felt comfortable imparting. By remaining in control of what he said, he knew that there would be no way for Leon to uncover the web of deceit that he had carefully woven.

  Ken had also decided that he needed to share the burden of his secret recordings with someone. He felt that Leon would have a deep understanding for the inexplicable phenomena;

  “Let me start by being honest with you,” he began, “I know that you’re visiting the hospital to conduct a study on the General.”

  Leon covered his genuine surprise. He didn’t deny what Ken had stated, neither did he ask Ken for his source of information.

  “At first I was angry, I felt betrayed that you went to the hospital against my express orders,” Ken stroked his chin, “I must admit, once I discovered the results you’re getting, it made me proud to have a man of your caliber on the staff.”

  Sweet words, Leon thought, seeing straight through Ken’s buttering him up for something; “Thank you,” he replied.

  “You know that I’ve always been a skeptic about the supernatural, the after-life… things that go bump in the night.”

  “Not you, Ken’o? Surely not you?” Leon kidded.

  For years Ken had been ragging him about his interests in the occult and those jeers had accumulated within Leon. Now, with Ken rattled by something in that vein, it provided Leon the perfect opportunity to administer some of the medicine that Ken had liberally dished out over the years.

  “Please Leon. I’m serious, I need your help.”

  There was a genuine plea there, desperation in Ken’s voice that Leon had never thought he would hear, and he snapped into his professional role, “I’m sorry Ken, I didn’t realize.”

  “As I said, I must get something off of my chest,” Ken resumed, “I need your promise that you will keep this all to yourself.”

  Leon weighed Ken’s words carefully, taking them seriously, “Ken, let me explain something. I flit around here in my own little world and it’s relaxing for me. I’m at my best when I can work in an easy atmosphere… but when the chips are down…” He paused dramatically, “…when they’re down, then I’m a hell of a good psychiatrist.”

  Ken knew Leon’s words to be true and there was a moment of silence as each man focused his mind on the words that he would speak. Ken began first;

  “I’ve never had an interest in religion or the occult… that sort of thing; you of all people know that I’m a dyed-in-the-wool rationalist. You know that I’ve always rejected that nonsense, Leon?”

  Leon allowed Ken some time to recap what a thoroughly shallow money-grubbing lout he’d always been.

  Ken’s self-centered views were most certainly not news to Leon but what was news to Leon was the incident that had sparked Ken’s reformation.

  Ken confirmed that the turning point in his views had come with the death of Craig;

  “As you know, I’d been distraught all day because of the police investigation, backed up work… security down because of the gate… all that. I was exhausted so I took a couple of sleeping pills at around lunchtime and went to sleep. After I’d slept I found that there were quite a few messages waiting for me on the voicemail,” Ken continued recapping, “It must have been around seven or eight in the evening.”

  Leon observed as Ken scratched vigorously at the lower lid of his eye; the action that always betrayed his lies. The more vigorous the scratching, the bigger the lie; the scratching always commenced with the first words of the lie and ended simultaneously with the last.

  This scratching routine had lasted for the entire duration of Ken’s recount.

  “You hadn’t really been sleeping, so what had you been doing?” Leon silently pondered.

  “There had been a few personal calls, one from Nancy and another from Craig. There had also been some less important ones after that,” Ken cleared his throat, “Nancy called at precisely five minutes to five o’clock. Twenty minutes earlier. Craig had called at twenty five to five. Both calls were from late afternoon on the day of Craig’s death, except… Craig should have been cold and stiff and in the morgue for God’s sake!” Ken’s voice rose to a squeal.

  Although Ken had laid out all of the facts in his protracted buildup, Leon had been so busy trying to sift for lies that the
story only gelled in his mind with Ken’s final summarizing sentence.

  It took a moment for the implication to sink in, then the significance struck Leon like a blow;

  “Are you sure, Ken? Are you positive that the message was recorded after Craig was already dead?”

  “Absolutely. I had cleared voicemail the day before. The call log and date stamp on the message agree… it happened. Nancy even confirmed the time of her call and, according to Stuart in IT, they were definitely in sequence,” Ken ground his teeth, “Before Nancy’s call there had been a message from the police officer investigating the case… a message about a dead man, before the dead man’s call… it doesn’t take genius to see there’s something wrong with that! Then Catherine called a few minutes after this weird call from Craig that shouldn’t have been possible… and she… and the log… also confirm the date and time. It’s impossible… but it’s conclusive…”

  Ken was very rattled.

  It was cruel of Leon, but it was payback for Ken’s dishing out so many years of skepticism and ridicule; now, with Ken terrified, it was amusing to toy with him, making him work to prove he wasn’t mistaken or insane.

  “A hoax?” Leon suggested.

  Emotionally he loved the evidence that Ken was painting; if it proved true, it would provide concrete support for the view that he’d spent a lifetime and so many books trying to legitimize.

  But as a scientist, Leon had a commitment first to finding a logical solution. He was professionally bound to plod through the obvious solutions first.

  Ken became defensive, his voice rising yet more excitedly, “Not a chance of a hoax. Stuart checked for that too.”

  “What do you think it was?” Leon wanted Ken to commit himself to an opinion.

  “I don’t know, that’s why I’ve come to you,” Ken was too cagey to put his head in the noose. Admitting to an after-life would bring too many questions to bear on his personality and his actions in his present life, “…what do you think?”

  “Do you want the answer of a doctor, or do you want the answer of a crazy old man who believes in ghosts and goblins?”