Omnipotence

Chapter 2 Thomas Ibsen

Four months later, Ibsen stepped out of a limo and squinted up at the towering edifice before him. His business lay at the top with some of the world’s most powerful players. At least, that was their believed position. Ibsen was living proof that perception could be fatally misleading. He could not wait to see the look on their plump, childish faces when they realized the truth—that they were obsolete. And today was only the beginning.

            Ibsen activated his vEYEsors to ensure the event would be recorded and Executor Lucas could bear witness.

            "Mr. Ibsen?" asked a beautiful, young woman in a long, form-fitting dress.

            "Yes, that’s correct."

            "Hello, my name is Angela. The board is expecting you. Right this way please."

            The woman led Ibsen past a motorcade of limos and personal escort vehicles, through the expansive lobby, and to the front of a security checkpoint.

“Sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Ibsen. With so many high ranking executives in one place, security is very tight.”

“No need for apologies,” he said and placed his silver briefcase on the scanning belt. "Everyone wants to feel secure."

No one seemed to notice when the security guard behind the scanner, his eyes glowing with vEYEsors, grabbed Ibsen’s briefcase and set it down on the floor. Seconds later the guard straightened with what appeared to be the same case. Ibsen took the case and smiled to himself upon feeling the increased weight.

The guard behind the scanner said nothing, but the look of disgust in his eyes was hard to miss. Ibsen couldn’t blame him. He knew from personal experience that doing the right thing was not always easy…or wholesome.

 Angela motioned for him to follow and they walked through a wide hallway leading to an elevator. Inside the elevator, she slid a small key into a slot beneath the buttons which brought open a small touch screen. She placed her thumb on the screen and said, "Executive offices." The screen flashed green once her voice was recognized and the elevator jolted as it quickly climbed one hundred and fifty floors to the top of the building.

            The doors opened to reveal a breathless view of New York City's skyline. Ibsen would have liked to take a moment to enjoy the view—to marvel at the great structures that had risen and fallen over the years—but he was no tourist. He was the voice of the future, and he had a message to deliver.

The young woman guided Ibsen into a lobby that shimmered from every surface. The long line of grim faced bodyguards stood in great contrast to the gilded walls.

Angela nodded to a security guard sitting behind a bullet shield. He nodded back and deactivated the locks on the doors to the conference room. The woman reached for the gold handle of the door, but before she could pull it open, revealing the main conference room and the score of elderly white-haired men, Ibsen placed his hand over hers and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

            “Listen carefully, deary,” his words carried a razor edge. “If you value your life, get back on that elevator, and get out of here as fast as you can.”

            The woman, taken aback, glanced up into his face, searching for a trace of sarcasm. When she did not find it, horror flashed into her eyes. Without another word, she spun around, her previous grace slipping away as she clattered for the elevator. Ibsen did not look after her. The Executor would certainly disprove of the warning, but he was not here. Ibsen already had blood on his hands, and did not mind it in the slightest. However, if he had any control—a concept he doubted more and more each day, he would do what he could to prevent collateral damages. The men on the other side of the conference room door would not fare so well. Of this, Ibsen was sure.