ar·chi·tec·ture (Part I)
Suppose you could meet anybody from history for a fee and engage in a real time conversation? Find out inside this story, the future is now!
Act I
Paris
The view from the floor to ceiling windows of my Paris office showcase the “Arc de Triomphe”, Eiffel Tower, and Siene River appearing as if in arm’s reach.
I’m at the pinnacle of my career as an architect. I may retire but before deciding, I wish to design that one elusive structure so eloquent, divine, and inspiring, the world will never see another.
My career began as a boy staring out of my bedroom window from our ranch in Montana. The vast openness and majestic mountains challenged me to imagine glistening landscapes of steel and glass.
I was the only child to my parents who were disappointed their son wasn’t interested in branding cattle, roping steers in the “Junior Rodeo”, marrying, and raising a family on the land handed down through generations.
I was half way around the world when I received notice my elderly parents perished in our family home burned to the ground by a lightning storm.
They’re buried on the farm and I haven’t returned to visit their graves. Old hurts and family grudges never die. Besides, as Thomas Wolfe said,
“You can’t go home again.”
The days and weeks to follow would prove otherwise.
I was born with a knack for artistic expression and an analytical mind which led me to a prestigious university where I graduated with degrees in Architecture and Structural Engineering.
I was fortunate to have been mentored by the most brilliant architectural minds in the world which landed me a partnership within our global architectural firm designing city skylines around the world.
I’m attending our firm’s quarterly “Partners Meeting” where we discuss projects underway and new business being sought. Last quarter’s meeting was in Florence. Next Quarter, we’ll be meeting in Qatar.
Claude, our Managing Partner, is droning on about the quarterly financial reports when he is interrupted by his administrative assistant, Rene, who wouldn’t interrupt Claude unless the matter was of utmost importance.
“Excusez-moi, Monseiur.
“Veuillez accepter ce message urgent.”
Claude reads a copy of an email and the expression on his face has become one of dignified restraint I’ve seen before when a once in a career design opportunity falls into an architect’s lap.
Could this be my opportunity?
“A new design endeavor has been brought to my attention which requires immediate response.
“This meeting is postponed.
“Nathan, follow me to my office.”
“What’s going on, Claude?”
“Put the call through now, Rene!
“You’re going to be reunited with an old classmate, Nathan.”
“Hello.
“This is Jonny Spano speaking.”
“This is Claude.
“I’m joined by your classmate, Nathan.”
“Long time, no speak, Nathan.
“How the hell have you been?
“Are you married or seeing anybody?”
“The answer is ‘no’ but I’m content, Jonny.”
“I link romantic avoidance to deep seeded internal conflicts and performance anxieties.
“I’ll let you in on a secret, Nathan.
“Consorting with women is stimulating and the best thing about ‘em, they’re expendable!”
“Thank you for the Freudian allusions and advice, Jonny.
“Are you still a student of Roman history?”
“Yes.
“I often dwell about living within the glory days of Rome but I’m developing a new technology which will make the architectural achievements of the Roman’s pale by comparison which is why I sought you out, Nathan.
“I’m in Paris and want to meet you and Claude for dinner tonight!
“I have a project for your firm the architectural world will be speaking about for decades to come.”
“Nathan and myself will be happy to join you this evening, Mr. Spano.”
Jonny was an enigmatic character when I knew him back in graduate school. There was a rumor he flew private to join his classmates on campus. Jonny made several fortunes in “M & A” and “take no prisoner’s hostile takeovers” bankrupting companies to void the pension funds and selling off the pieces of legacy corporations like so much scrap.
Jonny wasn’t a schmoozer and didn’t attempt to network with his classmates. His only friend in class was a nerdy guy named Norman. Norman wore an out of fashion short sleeve shirt replete with a pocket protector including mechanical pencils, colored pens, ruler, and protractor. His seventies decade slacks were several sizes too small and were thrift store castoffs. His black shoes were bulky, unattractive, and one of them likely camouflaged a club foot. Norman’s hair looked like he cut it himself with paper sheers and applied too much hair gel making his head resemble a greasy mop.
Rumors circulated on campus that Norman was an engineer with a top security clearance at a national laboratory.
What Norman lacked in appearance and social skills was exceeded by his intellect. I never saw him open a textbook and I would watch him with the focus of a Lazer beam stare at the whiteboard and professor as if “sucking up” all of the information like a vacuum.
Norman had a blank stare never making eye contact with anybody except Jonny. I thought he might view the world through “kaleidoscopes eyes”. A world only he could understand.
Norman was quiet, unassuming, and stuck to Jonny like Velcro. I empathized with young men sharing Norman’s fragile personality living inside “closets” consumed with self-loathing, anxiety, and broken family ties.
Confused and sensitive men like Norman were prey, permitting themselves to become dominated in exchange for even the smallest morsel of compassion even if it came from a wolf. Jonny had
the ability to make allies from the unlikeliest of persons and Norman was fortunate to have someone who looked after him. I pondered what Jonny needed from Norman.
Soon after meeting Jonny, Norman returned to campus with a styled haircut and his new wardrobe was top of the line Italian fashion from head to toe. Most interestingly, Norman wore a pinky ring made of ruby inscribed with a gold embossed “N”. I couldn’t help but think Norman was “branded” with Jonny’s mark like cattle.
Like Jonny, Norman didn’t attend the graduation ceremony although he was honored as Valedictorian. I hadn’t seen nor heard from either of these guys since our days in school a decade earlier.
Our chauffer pulled to the side of the road hurriedly before passing the narrow cobblestone pathway marked,
“RUE ICONNUE”
“I have been driving the streets of Paris for over forty years and this is the first time I visit this place, gentleman.
“You’ll find your destination at the end of the lane.”
We walked along centuries old cobblestones leading us back through the history of France and towards a grand walnut door with the number “13” illuminated by a lamp with a candle. I pulled the heavy brass door knocker resembling a lion’s head announcing our arrival.
The door opened.
We were greeted by a uniformed servant with a white wig and red regimental uniform you would see in a movie featuring the French aristocracy.
“Bonsoir Messieurs.
“Please follow me to the drawing room.”
It was a magnificent room with red velvet wallpaper and oil paintings of Louis XIV in beautiful gold leaf frames. The green carpet was thick and the exquisite pink vintage French chaise resembled a museum piece.
A beautiful young French maid wheeled a gold cart carrying fine liquors, Cognac’s, and wines. Claude was impressed by her beauty, short black French Maid’s uniform, and stiletto heels.
“Cognac pour nous deux.”
“Oui, Monsieur”.
We were handed two crystal snifter glasses filled with a heavenly vintage cognac which warmed our souls along with the subdued fire glowing yellow and red within the marble fireplace. It felt as if we were transported back in time to France as the Revolution was plotted outside the door or Napoleon’s return from victory was being heralded.
I heard the door knocker hit the massive walnut door and knew the “life of the party” had arrived.
“Tell that ‘Frog’ bastard turned celebrity chef Jonny Spano has arrived.”
“Eh, Jonny!
“How is my American prick of a friend doing?
“Judging from the lovely young woman on your arm, I trust very well!”
“Where’s Nathan and his boss?”
“Follow me into the drawing room.”
A recognizable celebrity chef accompanied Jonny and his escort into the drawing room.
“Here are your friends, Jonny.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m Henri.
“I welcome you to my secret dining room reserved only for the crème de la crème of my favorite customers worldwide.
“Tonight, I cook for you special.
“A meal fit for royalty.
“Even Jonny Spano!
“I take my leave and will join you for dinner.”
Jonny was accompanied by a beautiful and very young fashion model I had seen on the covers of magazines. If she was eighteen and a day, I would be surprised. She was a svelte blond with striking features and piercing blue eyes. Jonny aged gracefully and wore his thick mane of long black hair in a “man bun”.
Jonny and the young lady sat. The French maid returned to take their drink orders.
“Water only for the girl.
“Bring me a whisky, neat!”
Jonny wore a maroon crushed velvet smoking jacket, ruffled pink tuxedo shirt matching the chaise, canary yellow silk ascot, black satin trousers, and red slippers with the trade mark symbol of a famous Italian fashion house. His left pinky finger demanded attention with a black onyx ring with what appeared to be a two-carat flawless diamond in the center.
“Behold my beautiful creature, ‘Pietra’.
“I discovered her as a teenager living in a Slavic hellhole and molded her into the world’s next supermodel.
“Five feet ten inches tall, 33”, 22”, 33” with the BMI of an athlete.”
Pietra must have been freezing revealed by her areola’s which stood at “attention”. Jonny held Pietra tightly. His hand ran the length of her thigh hiking up the black low cut silk dress resembling negligee with each brush of his garish pinky ring. She was wearing no undergarments and I pondered when Jonny might stop the “peep show”.
“Nathan, your partner Claude is a devil.
“He can’t keep his eyes off the French maid.
“I know that look.
“He’s hungry and savoring the scent of his prey like a wolf.
“I’ll bet he’s already made plans for a late evening rendezvous with the exquisite beauty.”
“Mr. Spano, you have a sense of humor, Sir.
“I’m a happily married man.”
“I’m certain you’re also a ‘good’ father, too.
“Let’s get down to business.
“’Retro Reality Resort & Casino’ will be built in Las Vegas.
“I’ve already purchased the land.
“We’re ramping up the licensing agreements with the estates of famous deceased entertainers and current performers who are attracted to the lucrative licensing fees.
“Our proprietary lifelike holographic images of celebrities are infused with our AI software including the performers personality, style, delivery, and more.
“The structure you will design will be home to our technology.
“In simple terms, we’ll offer our guests a virtual reality experience without the headsets.
“A first of a kind, gentleman.
“We have the opportunity to deliver a different show with a push of a button.
“No stale performances.
“Endless original content delivered by AI.
“A win for the bottom-line for Retro Reality and the performers!”
The butler approached tickling a chime and announcing,
“Dinner is served!”
The dining room was exquisite including a Louis XIV table, chairs, and place settings for ten as if it was spirited away from a dining room within Versailles.
The table and room were lit only by beautiful gold candelabra and black candles creating devilish appearing shadows prancing about.
Throughout the evening, beautiful compositions from the French composers Debussy, Satie, Ravel, and Boulanger played softly like sensuous accoutrements to the sublime five courses prepared with surgical precision by Henri.
Pietra sat silently at Jonny’s side staring at her plate while attempting to spear the remaining gourmet roasted carrot after racing through the entre. I surmised she was ordered not to make eye contact with anybody except on Jonny’s demand. Jonny’s hand stroked her fine hair as if petting a dog.
“You’ll never make the desired weight and appearance for the next fashion shoot will you darling?
“Garcon!
“Take her to the kitchen and have Henri put to work peeling onions.
“Your tears will remind you to adhere to your diet.
“You humiliated me by gorging your dinner like the impoverished street urchin I rescued and molded into a top fashion model.
“I made you a lady!
“Act like one, damn you.
“Get out of my sight, you impetuous little sow!”
Pietra ran to the kitchen like a frightened animal.
“Back to business, gentlemen!
“Retro Reality Resort & Casino is just the beginning for my proprietary technology.
“A premium show will be made available “on demand” to subscribers which will be named “Living Memories”.
“’LM’ is designed for those able to afford the curation of their life into a ‘virtual scrapbook’.
“AI will suck up every component of a client’s life from every source available.
“These fortunate clients will select ‘channels’ from their life they wish to relive.
“For instance, life with ‘Rover’, marriage, prom night, and more.”
“Actually, Jonny, your project reminds me of the movie with Yul Brynner playing a robot cowboy whose circuitry goes berserk.”
“You’re wrong, Nathan!
“Motion picture ‘back lot’ western towns and robots requiring repair represent a ‘static reality’ as dictated by the computer programmer.
“We’re offering a virtual reality tailor-made for each customer.
“Every detail of somebody’s life is swept up by AI and ‘baked into’ the channels our client wishes to engage.
“We create lifelike holographic people including every human attribute and personality trait right down to a hangnail!
“We’re testing this concept now.”
“Where are you testing, if I may ask, Jonny?”
“My investors are a sovereign wealth fund who have conducted the initial testing somewhere in the world.”
“With whom?”
“I don’t ask and don’t care, Claude.
“They proved it works and gave me the ‘green light’ and money to move forward with the development.”
“Whose heading up the R & D?”
“Our classmate, Norman.
“I rescued Norman from a life of designing bigger and bolder nuclear weapons for a living.
“He’s brilliant.
“Decades ahead of the competition.
“He’s like a ‘kid in a candy store’ and very happy.
“He’s in Vegas as we speak heading up the engineering team.”
“How is it going?”
“We’re experiencing a psychological disorder named ‘separation anxiety’.”
“How so?”
“The participants form bonds with the holographic people and don’t want to leave them.
“It’s uncanny.”
“How are you going to surmount this issue, Jonny?”
“We’re testing psychotropic medications administered at the commencement of the experience to enhance it and subdue the ‘separation anxiety’, Claude.”
“I presume the endless pipeline of sovereign investment funds likely testing prison ‘lab rats’ helps.”
“What are you, Nathan?
“My conscious?
“Is your firm on board with me or not, Claude?
“I have my choice of the top architectural firms in the world hungry to take on this project!”
“I apologize, Jonny.
“Nathan is the idealistic partner of the firm.
“You’ll have every resource and member of our firm devoted to this amazing experience.”
“I would expect nothing less, Claude.
“I’m Jonny Spano and I will revolutionize Las Vegas by creating a show like no other found on planet earth!
“I’ve successfully battled naysayer’s my entire career and if you have Nathan fall in line, your firm will profit beyond your imagination.”
I heard enough and was counting the minutes to the end of the evening. Jonny excused himself to fetch Pietra and Claude discussed several design build opportunities with Henri for his growing list of restaurants worldwide.
Jonny was heard screaming from the kitchen.
“You want to eat, do you?
“Eat every bite of this you little pig!”
Henri excused himself to quell the disturbance in the kitchen. I decided to recommend to Claude that our firm not accept the project and avoid the inevitable technical failures facing Jonny. Surely, Claude would understand any link to testing on prison inmates overseas would disgrace our firm.
It was time to excuse ourselves and leave the dinner party. As we passed the kitchen towards the doorway, I caught a glimpse through the kitchen door of Pietra kneeling while devouring a nearly raw cheeseburger. The meat juices and condiments covered her fingers and stained her satin dress.
Jonny held her firmly by the hair as he and Henri spoke. The kitchen help was oblivious to her plight as Jonny repeatedly tugged on her hair firmly with his ring hand while she struggled to eat like a starving animal.
A beautiful yellow and orange tart worthy of a place within an abstract modern art exhibit lay waiting next to Jonny’s shoe for her desert. A “treat”, of sorts, for “behaving” like Jonny’s “dog”. If it wasn’t for his plush shoes, he’d probably step in the tart and demand Pietra eat it from the soul of his shoe.
Jonny Spano from Las Vegas had become a twenty-first Century Marquis de Sade.
As we waited for our car to arrive, the rain began to pour washing the sultry spectacle and contemptable project off of me forever, I hoped.
“You disappoint me, Nathan.
“You didn’t have a morale quandary building skyscrapers in oil rich nations with histories of political and religious persecutions, did you?
“If you won’t accept this project, I have my choice of partners who will and you’ll watch their careers advance from the sidelines!”
“I will accept the project, Claude.
“I’m on record there are moral and societal implications associated with Retro Reality our firm may regret!”
Act II
Las Vegas
Jonny arranged for me to stay in a glistening luxury high-rise condominium on the Vegas strip while designing Retro Reality. I was a connoisseur of city skylines but I found the view of the brightly lit casino-hotels gaudy and chose to keep the blinds closed.
I was focused solely on the design of the structure while secretive research and development of the AI driven holographic people was devised, tested, and deployed from a nondescript warehouse next door to my trailer serving as an office on wheels. It had every earmark of a back of the hand slap across my face from Jonny. What a step down from my office view of Paris!
The warehouse was locked and only accessible to Jonny, Norman, and Norman’s assistant, Ping. We held a weekly meeting inside my trailer office.
“The damn holographic image and voice synchronization is off by a millisecond.
“Get it synced correctly, Norman!”
Norman skulked off into a corner and held his head down weeping. Ping was a young woman engineer. She approached to console him but he brushed her off,
“Get away from me!”
“Norman, oh, Norman!
“Jonny’s sorry, old friend.
“I explained to you it’s all about the work and not to take it personally.
“We’re best buddies.
“Let’s hug it out”.
Like a shamed child, Norman walked into Jonny’s embrace. It was a sick, pathetic, loving, and awkward moment; a conflagration of emotions resembling a fiery car crash.
“Repeat after me, Norman.
“Who’s the most brilliant person in the room?”
“Me, Norman.”
“Who’s the engineer on the cutting edge of creating a great new transformative adventure park?”
“Me, Norman.”
“Who are the ‘dynamic duo’ of this transformative endeavor?”
“Jonny and Norman!”
“You need a break, Norman.
“I’m taking you away for your favorite chicken nuggets, fries, and vanilla shake meal.
“Please entertain me with your geometric proofs which would shame Euclid.
“I hope you’ll also delight me with your recitation of the Periodic Table backwards.
“I might test you with any element’s atomic mass!”
“I won’t disappoint you, Jonny.
“Can we go, now, please?”
“Of course, my dear friend.”
Jonny placed his arm around Norman and exited the building as if taking his dog for a walk.
Norman was one of Jonny’s “lab rats”. He was expendable once he flamed out and wasn’t necessary. God help, Norman. He would be lost without his lord and master, Jonny.
Although I pitied Norman, I thought who better to design human-like holograms with AI intellect than a pathetic lonely man living like one. To say Norman “lived inside his head” was an understatement.
Ping pulled a secreted smartphone from her lab coat.
“It pains me to see a brilliant man like Norman demeaned by the likes of an unscrupulous hotel and casino developer turned self-described showman.
“Look at this video, Nathan.”
Ping showed me test footage inside the warehouse. Jonny placed a high-tech glove on his hand, the lights dimmed, and the “King of Rock ‘n’ Roll” appeared in full Las Vegas glitzy regalia. Jonny extended his hand to the King who said,
“Thank ya’ very much for the opportunity to headline on the Grand Opening of the Retro Reality Hotel and Casino, Mr. Spano.
“Me and the fellas promise to put on a great show for ya’, Sir!
“Has anybody seen the Colonel?”
The lights came on, the King vanished, and Jonny removed the glove saying,
“The glove worked!
“I felt a firm handshake and every finger of the King’s hand including the rings!
“Begin commencement of the full bodysuit!”
“It’s no longer about ‘smoke and mirrors’, Nathan.
“Mr. Spano envisions and is demanding a full tactile interaction with the images.”
“Full tactile, meaning…?”
“Yes.”
It took courage for Ping to reveal Jonny’s sordid research and I admired Ping for risking her career and being sent home to an unsavory reception by her government.
I took to walking Las Vegas Boulevard after work to clear my mind. Yeah, the noise, traffic, and bright lights are counterintuitive but sometimes it takes equal amounts of lunacy to create normalcy.
I couldn’t sleep and retreated to my living room. I parted the curtains and stared out into the neon desert and pondered the implications of Jonny’s devilish enterprise. Why would somebody pay for a tactile encounter with a hologram when they can pay for the real thing up and down Vegas Boulevard?
I stared at the Roman themed casino-hotel with a marquee sign listing a beautiful famous songstress and it all became clear. Jonny was a “pimp” offering his “John’s” the opportunity to engage with the famous, notorious, and anybody or anything his clients demanded. The moral and ethical implications made me quiver.
In Vegas casinos, night quickly turns into day, and vice versa. There are no clocks. Time moves silently while courteously staying out of the way of debauchery! I wonder how time might consider Jonny’s attempt to manipulate it?
The next day, I was summoned by Jonny into the secretive warehouse while escorted by Ping.
“Since you have been a skeptic of my enterprise, I have arranged for you to take a personal tour, Nathan.
“My research team has assembled a holographic AI infused dossier about your life named,
‘Nathan’s Photo Album’”.
Ping offered me a flute of champagne but I refused. I didn’t feel comfortable consuming anything conjured up by Jonny’s lab.
“What the hell is the large glass sphere, Ping?”
(See you in Part II)