by John Forelli
Warren seems to have gone philosopher on me, which is not something I’d expected. This is going too well for me to attempt to process what he just said. “I understand.”
“Good. Good.” He pauses between each “good,” like the second one is trying to convince the first that it’s right. “Well, unless you have any questions for me, this is where we’ll leave it.”
I’m surprised by the abrupt end, and as much as I’d like to get out of here before Ty comes along and strokes his beard at me again, my curiosity gets the better of me. “This building,” I start, kind of regretting not leaving well enough alone. “Are the rest of the floors occupied by businesses like Simulations, or…?” I feel like I ended the sentence awkwardly, but Warren saves me.
“Yes. A few of the floors are occupied by financial firms and such. There’s a few doctor’s offices as well.” Warren pauses and looks up at the ceiling, as though something’s on the tip of his tongue but he can’t get it out. “And there’s this one startup tech firm...on the floor below us actually...Oculus...something.”
Warren seems satisfied with the answer. I most certainly am not. “Oculus?” I pipe up, in an excited voice that to Warren will definitely seem childish. “Oculus Rift? The virtual reality technology?” I try to calm my voice down.
Warren seems amused, like he knew this would interest me. “I believe it’s called Oculus Infinite.”
“That’s awesome! It must be a new startup. Are you familiar with the Oculus technology?” If Warren is insulted that I’m showing more interest in another company than the one I’m interviewing for, he doesn’t show it.
“Other than that it’s virtual reality technology, no.” Warren’s voice is droll but sharp.
“Yes.” I say, having somewhat restrained myself. “It’s a headset you wear, like goggles, but instead of transparent plastic or glass it has a video screen. But the kicker is that the goggles track the movement of your head and adjust the video screen accordingly.” The revelation seems to dawn on Warren. “And that immerses you in the virtual reality or whatever the screen is showing you.”
“I see. That’s very exciting.” Warren says it in the tone of a man who makes a concerted effort to never be outwardly excited.
I pause because I’m not sure where Warren would like to take the conversation from here. He pauses at the same time I do, seemingly for the same reason. After a moment stretching one second into awkward Warren asks “so any more questions?”
“Nope,” is all I say, content to leave Warren with my fascination for virtual reality technology. I’ll have to check this Oculus Infinite company out.
“Great,” Warren says, in a way that for him seems excited. He rises and extends a hand, which I accept. “We’ll be in contact soon, but I think if you simulated your not too distant future you’ll be getting a very positive phone call from me.” He smiles.
“Thank you very much,” I say, much more excitedly than Warren. I turn and exit the office, and the trickle of typing meets me, a reminder that this job is much more typing than talking. Down the row of offices and around the corner toward the foyer and I see the receptionist watching an episode of The Office on her computer screen. Am I the new Jim Halpert? Or am I Hamlet, in a play within a play? Whoever I am, this receptionist pales in comparison to the Pam Beesley waiting downstairs. I smile at her even though her eyes remain fixed on the screen and walk out the door, which I hold open for a girl my age, possibly my competition. She looks vaguely like Minka Kelly, and I can’t help but feel like there’s a sizable probability my job hopes here will fall before her. At least it’s summer. I could go on five hundred interviews if it meant I got to swim in a pool afterward.
I walk to the elevator and select the button for the lobby. The elevator doors shut as the Minka Kelly look alike closes the office door behind her. The two shutting in succession look like a video screen fading to blackness, waiting for the next image to appear.
The elevator descends, pinging on each of the ten floors in time with my heartbeat’s acceleration. I wonder if the lobby receptionist will remember me. Should I talk to her? God forbid. Should I ask her out? If only I had access to a computer, I could simulate it to see my best course of action. The doors open and preclude any further pondering.
I walk out and see the cute receptionist talking to a man twice her age, seemingly looking for directions. She points to a place beyond the windows and tells him something I can’t hear, despite intentionally walking as slowly as possible.
The man has his directions and departs just as I’m past her desk to the point where I can’t turn around without looking foolish. I resign myself to my fate, already tossing the simulation of this very situation around in my head.
“Hey!” She says, just as I’m about to enter the revolving door. I spin around to see her smiling that lovely smile. “I hope you get it.” I think I see her eyes sparkle. Maybe it’s just the sun shining through the windows behind me. Maybe it’s my imagination.
I blush, and I hope I’m far enough away that she can’t see. I know I’m close enough that she can see my shy smile. “Thanks. Maybe I’ll see you again.” It’s lame but I couldn’t think of anything better. Time to get to work on a simulation.
THE SIMULATIONS will be available on Amazon for pre-order on 4/1 and released on 4/20.
Go to http://johnforelli.com for more information and to enter to win a free, signed copy.
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