Raveolution

BEAT: Cerebral Vortex

I found out why Zoe was in Exigent Square, the lobby of the Koch building that day.  

"I work at Koch E., too," she admitted gleefully.  "I've been there for five years," she added, with slight discomfort at the inkling that she had seen me and I had not, possibly ever, seen her there. She was right to think that.  I had not. 

We had been there about the same amount of time, but she had watched me rise while she had remained in receptionist-type positions, she further confessed. It was interesting that she would utter Koch E. or mention the word Koch at all.  It had been a long time since I heard someone say the name aloud.

People who work in the building typically speak of working for a particular wing or by the elevators they use in Exigent Square, our central lobby. Employees could introduce themselves by the individual subsidiary they worked for, but it was more fashionable to say which wing, executives exempt.  For them, it was apropos to only say executive levels.

If asked, I would typically reply North wing. For those in the know, Entertainment is West, East is Finance, Product sales and Marketing is North, and South is Resources. If employees identified themselves by subsidiary, it meant, typically, they did not identify with the umbrella holding company of Koch Enterprises and therefore lacked a basic understanding of our intricate national and worldwide operations.  It was not part of their training.  Although I always knew I worked for Koch because of Victor, I was unclear how obvious that was to many others within the building, especially the lower levels, which were filled with a multitude of subsidiaries.  Actual divisions began to emerge at the top, still nothing bearing the name of Koch, but rather their consolidated merger brands.  Convergent emergence under illusions of division.  Above all those levels were the mysterious senior executive levels, an internal pyramid. Fewer and fewer people were granted more floor space on each succeeding level till you reach the top, Bernays penthouse corporate suite.  

Zoe, in her newest position, worked on the west side, lower lobby, as a part-time weekday receptionist for DYSTRAXION, our news and entertainment division.  Additionally, she worked part-time weekends at the main floor reception lobby.  Although the weekend shifts at times cut into her late-night partying capabilities, she enjoyed the occasional spectacle of Sundays when school children were allowed to be taken there to marvel at Exigent Square's Heartland Express, the holographic locomotive, The Koch engine of Consumerican life fueled by its beds of peach coal.  A technological feat, Heartland Express hovered as a centerpiece for all employees and the occasional visitor to gawk at in reverence as they moved through the square of the building. 

The hologram was haptic, created by voxels, glowing yet touchable pixels shot from the four corners of Exigent Square by trade secret femtosecond lasers. On Sundays for the children, the lasers would be lowered so the illusion could be within their grasp.  

Zoe laughed.  "The exhilaration on the kids' faces as they pawed the hologram is alarming." 

"Zoe, alarming? That sounds so strong." I half-heartedly jested. 

She quickly defended. "Well, it's as if they're..." she used both of her hands to demonstrate throwing imaginary energy in my face, "...zapped by our ideals!  They stand there soaking it in, exhilarated by the low-grade infusion of energy."

"Are you trying to say that we are electrocuting these children?," I tease interrogated her while pacifying a sudden itchiness at the nape of my neck. 

"Yes, seriously, their hair sticks up and wiggles."  Zoe danced her fingers above her head then moved them to eye level for her next demonstration. "Their eyes grow big and their faces are overtaken by these consistently bizarre smirks. I can't help but wonder if it's rewiring their brain. It spooks me out."  She pretended momentarily she would slam the table.  Instead, she chose to end her proclamation by dramatically miming, biting down on her fingernails. 

Employees, on an everyday basis, were also easily dazzled by the size of the locomotive that functioned as a screen for market trading graphs, projections featuring all the subsidiaries as they fluctuated in the DAO.  Often, people would stop to ponder the meaning as the stats moved up and down like pistons. 

With piston speed, I scanned my daily ingress and egress through Exigent Square for the last several years. How many other people had I passed by, stood next to, or simply never saw?  In all fairness, I had, on some level, always felt irritated the moment I arrived to work. Quite cleverly, the building had been designed so that all elevators to the offices could only be accessed through Exigent Square, forcing the image assault of Heartland Express upon us every single day.  The front plate of this locomotive was the image of the billion dollar peakoch coin.  I had always understood that. Peakoch coal had given a reason to realize our manifest destiny and lay the tracks for the Heartland Express.  But making a proud peacock bird donning a Consumerican flag print hat, the engineer, always seemed like we had taken it too far.  Ostentatiously tacky.  It wasn't the image itself that was assaulting so much as how it was invoked in bad taste.  I had my suspicions that Victor had been consulted, and the cartoonish mascot heading the train had been his audacious idea. Just imagining that scenario made my daily journey, especially of late, through the square particularly annoying.  Oh, hail the executive!  Brisk walking, exigent speed, and self-contained awareness shielded me from blazing pageantry. 

I tried to keep an even smile, though I could not help but feel somewhat shallow. How is it that I have no recollection of her whatsoever?  An upwelling of embarrassment over my apparent memory blinders caused me to shift in my bamboo wicker chair, placing my hands on the small matching bistro table helped me control my poise, but adjusting my spine to sit straight released a somatic response, bubbling from deep within me a sense of pride.  Yes, I have worked hard to earn my position as VP of Q Sales and Campaigns. Witnessing the prideful thoughts twisted my stomach, sending a caustic awareness through my chest. Ultimately, it burned through my perception as a flame does through the center of a screen.

I became self-aware and could start to sense how the attitude created a filter on my experience at Koch E.  As the filter melted away, the view of myself I was left with was not my best light. Perhaps she recognized I was uncomfortable and to help me through this moment, she decided to tell me a story.