by Oumar Dieng
“Well, I don’t think we got it wrong. For the past thirty-nine years, there has been no sighting of a single bee recorded anywhere in the world. It is possible that a dormant colony was somehow revived, but after so long it is hard to see how that could have been possible …”
“Alright,” I said, standing up, “I have to go to work.”
“OK. Good luck on your first day,” Grandma said.
The lobby was spacious and well furnished, and had floor-to-ceiling glass walls that let a lot of light in. Off to the side, four fancy leather chairs with a geometric feel were arranged around a glass table, anchored by a bright rug. There was also a row of neatly organized plants in the same area. A large aquarium filled with exotic fish served as the backdrop to the elaborate logo projected midair from the ceiling. It read “Bridge Right Interstellar Technologies.” Large life-size electronic posters on the walls were fading in and out, each time displaying a picture featuring smiling customers that were being helped by a uniformed employee. “At BRIT, we use technology to bring you a brighter future” read a poster.
I approached the security desk, where two security guards carrying sidearms were helping a few people. Although one of them only seemed to be observing people while the other did the talking.
“Hi. I was told you’d be holding a badge for me?” I asked.
“Name?” said the guard. “Sali … Sali Chevalier.”
“Identification?”
I pulled my ID and presented it to him. He took the ID and ran it across a scanner. Moments later he handed me my ID back along with a temporary card.
“Take the elevator to the nineteenth floor. They are expecting you.”
The boardroom was filled with a dozen overdressed interns attentively listening to the round-robin introductions from their counterparts. The presenter, an extremely enthusiastic woman in her thirties, set the stage by going first.
“Before we get started, I would like each of you to take a moment and just tell us a little bit about yourself.” She pointed at the three bullet points on the screen: “name, background, and something fun about you.” As we went around the room, I noticed that most of the interns were from prestigious schools, renowned for having highly respected biotechnology, engineering, and earth science programs.
Over the course of four days, we learned about the company’s background, its products, and operations at length. On the final day of orientation, we were met in the same boardroom by a group of employees led by the presenter.
“You are probably wondering who these people are,” she said to the interns. “After being cooped up in this room for days, you are probably ready for a change of scenery.” She turned to the employees. “Well, you are in luck. Everyone, meet your mentors!” The group of employees who had been standing silently until now waved back; some were smiling back at us. “Each of you has been assigned a mentor, and today you’ll spend the day with them. If you have any questions about anything, feel free to ask. These employees have a lot of experience and knowledge. They’re here to help you get settled into your new role.” The presenter wrapped up her introductions, wished us good luck, and left the room.
The mentor I was assigned was a woman in her forties. She was dressed up in an expensive blue blouse and matching pants. Two staggered pearl necklaces adorned her neckline, strongly highlighted by the fact that she had her hair tightly pulled back. I stood up and took a few steps to meet her. She extended her arm, smiling. “Sali?” she said, looking at my name tag, then looking up at me. “I am Michelle Conrad. Welcome to BRIT.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, Michelle.”
We shook hands, her golden bracelets clinked together. She smelled like expensive perfume. Everything about her was extremely well-groomed and professional. Her very aura exuded ambition and power. She looked like one of those eloquent women that moved with purpose and confidence, and knew exactly what to say and when to say it.
“Navy suit? I think I like you already!”
“I’m sorry?” I asked.
“I like your suit,” she said, pointing at my clothes, which were the same color as hers.
As we were talking, the other intern-mentor pairs began to vacate the room slowly. And just like that, we were going our separate ways after spending nearly a week together.
“Shall we head out?” said Michelle.
“Sure.”
We got on the elevator. Michelle waved her hand in front of the elevator console and gave a vocal command. “Fifteenth floor.” The elevator door opened on the fifteenth-floor reception area. Upon seeing Michelle, a receptionist greeted her. We made our way down a long corridor.
Suddenly we heard a commotion. A man was speaking loudly. “Let go of me! Don’t touch me!” Just then two men in uniform came around the corner, escorting a third man who was complaining. “This is nonsense. You can’t do this! At least let me grab my things!” The uniformed men simply ignored him and continued to move him toward the elevators.
Michelle, noticing my concerned look, attempted to diffuse the tense scene with humor. “That is not the type of tour you expected on your first week, is it?”
I forced a smile without saying a word.
As we walked further down, the white paint of the hallways changed. The walls were now painted with a continuous stripe of yellow and red color, along with the words “Restricted Area.”
Michelle turned to me. “This is our Research and Development floor. Some of our best products were conceptualized here.” We walked up to a sealed door. Again Michelle waved her hand and opened the door.
Inside, a handful of workers in white scrubs were monitoring readings on various screens in a small room. There was a thick glass partition with a viewing window.
“Hi, guys,” Michelle said to the employees. “Never mind me. I am just showing our new intern around.” Michelle waved me over to the viewing window. On the other side, there was livestock in rectangular enclosures. “We test various feed on the livestock to understand how that affects their eating and breeding habits,” she explained.
“Oh. I didn’t realize that BRIT worked with animals.”
“This is a pilot project that we hope to expand.” She pointed at the screens in the room and added, “Staff here watch and report on the behavior of the livestock. The data is analyzed, and we use what we learn to make minor adjustments to the recipes to see how that affects the livestock.”
“Wow. This is a massive operation!” I said, reacting to what she’d shown me.
“Let’s continue with the tour,” she said, thanking the staff on our way out.
We headed back to the elevator and took it down to the fifth floor.
“Do you do anything for fun?” Michelle asked, breaking the silence.
“I like to ride horses, and the outdoors. I like being outside”
“Great,” she interrupted. “Then you will love this floor!”
Right then we stepped out of the elevator and headed into an open area with dimmed color lighting. A small water fountain stood at the entrance of the room. White towels were neatly arranged on a rack against the wall. A strong aroma of mint and vanilla filled the air.
“This place is so relaxing, don’t you think?” asked Michelle, smiling.
“Yes, it is.” I smiled back.
“I come here every once in a while to relax and get a cleanse,” she added.
Admittedly, the atmosphere was very soothing and relaxing. We made our way to a small counter where a concierge was busy putting candles back on a shelf. The concierge stopped what she was doing when she saw us approach the desk. “Hello. May I help you?” she asked quietly.
“I would like to show Sali the rejuvenation room.”
“Of course, there’s one currently in use now. Would you like a treatment now?” the concierge asked as she came around from behind the counter.
“No. We’re just observing.”
“Very well. Follow me, please.”
The concier
ge led us to a door with an electronic sign that read “Rejuvenation room. Session in progress.” Inside the room, there were several stations. Each station had a bed lifted high off the ground by a chrome-colored cylindrical stand directly connected to the bed at its base. A dozen mechanical arms with pneumatic tubes came down from the ceiling.
A woman was lying still on one of the beds, facing up at a spotlight, with her arms resting straight alongside her body. A light piece of linen was placed across her private parts, and another piece across her chest. Black protective goggles lay on her eyes. The metallic arms looked like the legs of a spider about to cocoon its prey. The arms hovered just above the woman’s skin, and working their way down from the face, they emitted a laser that skinned a tenth of a millimeter off the woman’s skin with amazing precision, then retracted to the ceiling. Another set of arms came down and sprayed a mixture of stem cells and organic proteins over the woman’s face. Those arms retracted as well. A flat panel hovered over the freshly applied substance and dried it within minutes. The procedure was repeated on the women’s neck. When the process was completed, the mechanical arms retracted into the ceiling for good, the spotlight that illuminated the woman went off, and the cylindrical stand lowered the bed back down, within inches of the floor.
One of the staff that waited on the side walked up with a bathrobe and held it in front of the woman, who got up and slipped into it. On a side panel of the machine, two pictures of the woman were displayed side by side. The words “Rejuvenation complete” flashed repeatedly under the pictures. One of the photos showed the woman’s face with wrinkles on her forehead and crow’s feet markings on the outer edges of her eyes. Her neck showed signs of aging and dark spots on her skin. The new picture that was automatically taken by the machine showed the same woman with none of the wrinkles. Her neck looked like a teenager’s neck; completely wrinkle-free and pristine. It seemed as if she had turned back the clock by twenty years.
“These are some of the perks of working at BRIT,” pointed out Michelle. “Not that you need it,” she added, looking at my face. “You go under for twenty minutes and come out good as new! And it works for all skin types.”
We continued exploring the rest of the floor. Michelle showed me an entertainment room where there were various games that employees could play, including some retro games such as table tennis, billiards, and blackjack.
After half an hour on the floor, we finally made our way back to the elevators and down to the second-floor dining hall. Michelle showed me the extensive menu with dozens of food options spanning all types of cuisine one could imagine.
“Employees eat for free,” she said. “And if you don’t like what’s on the menu, you can have one of the cooks make you whatever you want.” She walked up to the dessert counter. “I’ll have two of those,” she said to one of the kitchen staff manning the counter. The man presented two slices of cheesecake and placed them on the glass counter in front of Michelle, who carried them over and handed me one. “Here,” she said, “have one with me.”
I hesitated to take the food, but to her insistence, I did. We took a seat at a nearby table.
“So,” Michelle started, pausing to chew. “Are you from the city?”
“The suburbs, actually.”
“Really? Whereabouts?”
“Plymouth.”
“Do you live with family?”
“Yes, my grandparents.”
“Oh, are your parents not in the area?”
“My father … well, he travels quite a bit for his work … so I don’t see him much,” I said, stretching my answer between bites.
“What about your mother?” Michelle asked.
“My mother is not around,” I responded, choosing my next words carefully. “There was an incident when I was younger, and she … well, she went missing.”
“My God. That’s horrible! And they don’t know where she is?”
I started feeling uncomfortable with her line of questioning. I must’ve made a face as I looked up at her and back down at my plate.
“Oh, I am sorry. I am asking too many questions. You don’t have to answer. I think it’s time to head to the office anyway.”
We made our way back to the nineteenth floor. Michelle showed me to my desk and told me to come to her if I ever needed anything. “My office is down the hall, if you need me. We Spartans have to stick together, right?” she said before leaving. She was referring to my university’s team.
That may explain why I was paired with her, I thought. Otherwise, I can’t think of any reason why they would pair me up with her. We have nothing in common; she’s into spas and rejuvenation; not my thing.
6
Garage Board
My conversation with Dr. Freitz days before had left me with a lot more questions than I had answers. I waited a while to call Dad. He picked up after a couple of rings.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Sali?” asked Dad, surprised to see me. He smiled. “It’s so good to see you!”
I didn’t say a word.
He stumbled on his words. “Are your grandparents … Are you OK? Is something wrong?”
“Well,” I said under my breath, “you would know that if you remotely cared!”
“Listen, Sali. I am so sorry I missed your graduation. I had a lot to—”
“Listen, Dad,” I said, getting straight to the point. “I don’t wanna talk about that right now. I have some questions I wanna ask you.” I cleared my throat to buy time to hide my emotions and find the strength to go through with the rest of the conversation. “I had this weird conversation with one of your colleagues, Dr. Freitz. Do you know him?”
“Dr. Freitz? Yes.” He struck a serious tone. “Yes, I know him. But why would he come to you?”
“He told me that Mom worked for Galactic Teranga. Is that true?”
“Yeah. Your mother worked as a contractor, but she was not an employee of GT. Sali, what’s going on?” said Dad, sensing that I was not being forthcoming.
“Dad, Dr. Freitz said that Mom is alive and that she was in Costa Rica at one point. But that can’t be true, right?”
“Well …” Dad said.
“Oh my God! He is right, isn’t he?”
Dad remained silent.
“Are you going to say something?” I asked, my heart racing. “All this time, you knew this, and you let me believe that Mom left us?” I continued, talking over Dad, who was trying to get my attention without much success.
Finally, he raised his voice. “Sali! Listen to me!” he said decisively. “Yes, I also think that maybe your Mom is alive. But she is not in Costa Rica, OK!”
“How would you know? Did you go there? Did you even care to check?”
“Now, that’s completely out of line, Sali!”
“Is it, Dad? I spent the past thirteen years thinking that I was the reason why Mom was gone, just to find out from some weirdo that she may be languishing in South America.” I got all my frustrations out in one long breath. “Am I missing something, Dad?” I sarcastically added.
“Sali,” Dad said softly, “I never meant to make you feel like this burden was yours to carry. I am sorry I’ve been distant, and I understand how you must feel about me. But I assure you that there is a good reason for all of it.”
“Dad, what could be more important than your family, your daughter?”
I could see that Dad was looking over his shoulders, and at times, he was nearly whispering when he should have been angry.
“It’s complicated, and it’s not something I can share over a video call. I promise to tell you everything when I see you.”
“OK. Fine.”
“Alright, I have to go.” Like an afterthought, he added, “I love you.”
It had been a few weeks since I had met with Simon Freitz. My encounter with him left me really confused about a lot; it confirmed my suspicions around Mom’s disappearance, but it also got me thinking that there were things that Dad was not telling me, and it ma
de me angry just thinking about it.
Grandpa’s pickup truck came up the driveway. Moments later the front door opened.
“We’re here!” said Grandpa as he stepped through the door first, holding a laptop bag.
Dad appeared right behind him, pulling a large carry-on bag. Grandma ran up and hugged Dad, who turned toward me. I walked up to him slowly, unsure whether to hug him or ignore him.
“Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Dad.” We hugged.
“I missed you,” he said, still holding on. Dad let go and turned his attention to Grandma, who had been tearing up from watching Dad and me hug. “Are you OK?” he asked her.
“Yeah … I’m fine,” she said, wiping her eyes with a napkin she had grabbed off the napkin holder. “It’s just that she looks just like her mother. Seeing you here just brought back memories of her.”
“I know. I miss her too,” said Dad.
Grandpa, who had left the room, came back, a couple of drinks in his hands. He handed one to Dad. “Here, I bet you don’t have these in London, do you?”
“No, they don’t. Thank you!”
Just then Grandma started barking orders at Grandpa. “George, you should take his things to the bedroom.” She turned to Dad. “I have the bedroom all ready for you. I am sure you are going to need to get some sleep after such a long trip.”
“Mom, no,” intervened Dad. “I can take care of the luggage.”
“Alright then. Dinner should be ready shortly. Come back down when you’re done.”
Dinner was delicious as usual. Grandma outdid herself with her signature tater tot hot dish, a concoction of ground beef, cheddar cheese, peas, milk, and onions skillfully mixed and artfully placed in a transparent glass baking pan and layered with store-bought tater tots.
Grandpa and Dad had already been talking in the living room while I helped Grandma rinse the dishes in the kitchen. Grandma would rinse the dishes and hand them to me to dry with a small piece of cloth. I would then place the dish in one of three piles: bowls, plates, or glasses. She did not like using the dishwasher. “I don’t trust these new machines that clean dishes without water,” she’d say.
