The Genesis Illusion

Chapter 12

Morning brought the fragrance of breakfast cooking at the many street-side vendor stands that lined the row of unconnected buildings typical of central Bangkok. The odor of coffee hung thick in the moist still air. Paul could taste the smell as he leaned against the store open window frame waiting for his order with others impatiently doing the same. A cook at a nearby cart stirred patongo (Thai donut) in a wok, frying in hot oil, using long chopsticks exhibiting a skill gained from years of practice.

Reaching with the chopsticks to grasp the patongo, as the street vendor had done daily thousands of times. He inexplicably dropped one of the crispy morsels, missing the paper dish he always used. The hot pillow of flavor struck the bare foot of a customer wearing sandals who was holding a paper cup filled with coffee. His burning foot made him jump losing a grip on the coffee cup as he jerked forward in an awkward dance. The coffee flew into the vendor splashing on the counter and into the boiling wok. The hot oil erupted like a geyser spewing drops of liquid pain on customers waiting for their order. Seeing this strange ballet Paul slinked away as a flurry of Thai obscenities filled the otherwise calm morning air. I can't escape my plague even here.

After divorcing from the chaos at the street vendor stand, Paul took a position around the corner where he could see the entrance to the Arcadia headquarters. The building was like many others, a weathered wooden structure painted blue many years ago with a few covered windows facing the street. A multitude of utility wires from poles along the street attached to the side of the building in seemingly random locations. Several apartments lined the second story with entrances along a balcony accessed by stairways at each end. A rusting corrugated metal roof capped the building and also covered the crumbling sidewalk that extended the entire half-block width of the building.

"Hello, are you inside yet?" Nara said in Paul's earphone.

"Hang on," Paul mumbled as he chewed his food. "I'm eating."

"Be careful. You're supposed to be from Sydney so..."

"I know. A computer security officer. Where are you?"

"In the mobile lab a few blocks south of you. Call if you need anything." Glad VK made it safe.

Paul entered the unmarked Arcadia chapter warehouse through its open overhead loading dock door. Striding up to the registration desk, Paul said, "Hello, my name is Mike Collins from the Sydney chapter. I have an appointment to meet with Sam Howe." I hope she speaks English. If not I'm in trouble.

The clerk, apparently understanding Paul, turned the pages of a book on the table in front of her. Then she said, using English with a strong but passable Thai accent, "Yes sir. I see your appointment to meet with Sam Howe, our director. You can wait over there. He should be here soon."

Paul took a seat in one of the hard wooden chairs sitting against the wall near the registration desk. While he was waiting he surveyed the building interior. Although there was no air-conditioning, the many ceiling fans provided air movement making it feel tolerable. It was a large open space something like a vintage gymnasium with high ceilings and wood panel walls. Floodlights dangled from the open-beam ceiling on black power cables. The light was adequate only because there was a row of dirty windows along the roof-line.

A bare concrete floor gave the space an industrial feel. Several long rectangular tables placed end-on-end and stacked with leaflets lined up along a far wall. Workers seated at the table put together packets using an assembly-line method. Each person stuffed one or two items into a pouch and passed it to the next who put in more items until they reached the end where the last person sealed the packet, closed and stacked it ready for shipment.