iDENTITY Page 3

  The sun peeked through the thin curtains. He snuggled up to her and whispered, “You are gorgeous,” then rolled over.

  She had never spent the night with a stranger and realized she was naked.

  “I’m not who you think I am,” said Jaz, a tear running down her cheek. She changed quietly into her clothes, combed her hair, and slipped out the front door into the bright daylight, wondering how she was going to get home. Then she realized all she needed to do was stick out her thumb. Jaz didn’t have to wait long. A turbo Mercedes flew by and stopped in a split second.

  Lena

  The Z-train dropped her off back into the neighborhood; the meeting at Optimal today revived her spirits. Stage one of her plan was completed. She moved away from the drunk in the doorway.

  Lena watched a beautiful woman enter the grimy apartments next door with a cowboy and wondered what she saw in him. Lena couldn’t wait to leave this dump, with all the begging, shame, and hunger. This neighborhood attracted the forlorn, forgotten, and neglected, and she knew she didn’t belong there. She lit a cigarette and tucked the pouch into her bag.

  It was Lena’s ticket to freedom. She had forgotten what it was like to have a job, friends, and apartment. Two years ago, when her name was Lenora Clark, she lived on Peacock Lane in Sun Metro with her rich leather dresses and designer shoes. She finally escaped the poor childhood, one of eight children and life in the ghetto part of town filled with crime and garbage. Lenora worked two jobs and achieved valedictorian of her class to gain an internship at the top investment firm, Infinity Investments in the prestigious Meridian Building. She denounced her roots, even changing her address to reflect a more middle-class existence. Her luck changed when the stock market took a dive. Infinity Investments, like other brokerage firms, invested heavily in land and water.

  Lenora worked hard as a senior associate, making deals and serving clients. Even her loyalty to the vice president and her twelve-hour days for two long years did not help her; she got laid off when the Waterfall Industries deal fell apart. On that fateful day, the vice president and account manager called her into the conference room at 7 p.m.

  “Lenora, your performance for these two years has exceeded our expectations. However, as you know, the market has tanked. We can’t support all our staff and unfortunately your job had been eliminated,” said the account manager.

  “We regret our decision, but we will offer you a three-month severance if you train our analyst,” said the vice president.

  Lenora agreed, knowing that the analyst was Paul Chamber’s granddaughter, JD, who recently graduated from Yale. As the training progressed, the firm cut her hours. She found herself only working two days a week and she decided to take the Z-train to save on gas. Her client list was cut and she realized that she was now assisting the analyst; her humiliation grew, but she swallowed her pride.

  Lenora truly believed the firm would recommend her to another brokerage or bank, but after a few months most of their funds dried up and they couldn’t pay their stockholders. On her last day, Lenora Clark would cease to exist; she wiped her file from the system, now becoming Lena Davis. She packed a small box of her belongings, said her final goodbyes, and entered the women’s restroom before leaving the premises. Her anger grew as she realized her hard work amounted to nothing.

  “I don’t deserve this!” she said as kicked the stall door. It fell off its hinges and hung there awkwardly. Then she collected herself and leaving the premises, passed the younger woman who took her job.

  “Sorry you got laid off. I wish you the best of luck,” said JD on her last day. Lena never forgot her cruel eyes and condescending tone. She felt like punching her in the gut, but held her head high and never looked back.

  She stretched every penny of the severance package until she lost her apartment, clothes, and even her precious car that was eventually impounded. She must have gone on hundreds of interviews, filled out numerous online applications, but always the same answer— no one wanted to hire a woman close to fifty who worked in the mortgage business. Lena knew these firms wanted thirty-somethings, like the one who took her place at Infinity. She tried the lower-level jobs like Sales Mart and Izzy’s Ice Cream, but her temper always got her fired. Lena had no patience with the average consumer. She served her last soft serve cone by ramming it into an impatient man’s face.

  “Look, lady, how dare you! Don’t you know who I am? I could sue you!” said an irate man in his Patagonia sweats and jacket.

  “Ha, try to get a penny out of me— I’m homeless,” Lena said as she walked out the door and never looked back.

  Her little white lie secured her secret and she vowed to get a new and better job before they found out how desperate she was. Wandering the streets for days in a deeply depressed state, she stumbled into the doorway of Safe Haven, a homeless lodge, near her old neighborhood. Hope no one recognizes me. Never wanted this to happen, but I guess I could use some help, Lena thought.

  They took her in and provided her with a bed and free meal. The director realized her talents and offered her some data entry work. With that access, she entered her new name and new resume. The first six months turned into a year, then dragged on for another as the economy never fully improved and companies consolidated. She even wore a business suit twice a week and passed out her resume to strangers on the street. Many laughed or pitied her, which made her more discouraged. Her face grew thin; her clothes became worn and she tied her hair back in a stringy ponytail after being on the streets for so long.

  As her job prospects dwindled, her spirit was still alive. Lena refused any free bottles of whiskey offered by old lecherous men, ate dried fruit, and did her daily sit-ups and jumping jacks. She also took to the streets at night, running for miles to escape the insanity of her hopeless situation. One night she ran into a vagrant who followed her back to the shelter.

  “Hey baby, slow down. Think you’re too good for me. You’re just one of us— on the street. Give it to me,” he said and grabbed her arm.

  Lena punched him in the face, pulled out her whistle, and blew it. Its shrillness echoed throughout the alley, stopping the homeless man, who put his hands over his ears. She scrambled up the steps of the shelter as a small crowd rushed outside to check out the commotion.

  “Stay away from me. I’m not like you and never will be!” Lena said and ran through the doorway and landed on one of the large room’s empty beds. She pounded her mattress in anger and buried her head in her sheets. Unable to sleep, she searched the shelter’s job boards online and read the words carefully.

  Want to be someone else? Instant fame without the pain? Be the new person you want to be Now. Say yes to book your appointment. Contact NEWiDEN.com or text now at 1-888-NEW-iDEN.

  It was at that moment that she knew she needed to make a drastic change. An angel touched her and she made the call that night. Seven hundred and thirty days wasted, but no more.

  As dawn appeared, she popped her first green pill and adjusted the bracelet on her wrist. Tomorrow she would borrow some clothes and regain her job at Infinity Investments, but mostly get back at the woman who ruined her life. Revenge never seemed so sweet.

  Maggie

  Now after taking her first pill, she had an epiphany. Forget about what she heard and imagined at Optimal the other night. The magic of the pill and her new identity worked and she was on her way to success. And her newly acquired fans and the interview today proved it. She stood before the acclaimed Meridian.

  The Meridian stretched for miles, 500 stories tall and towering over a dense city of glass and concrete as they blended into the landscape. Its opaque windows revealed its clients: space travel, entertainment, robotics, climatology, pharmaceuticals, and a variety of services— even a casino in this massive skyscraper made of glass and concrete, stuck on a patch of turf in the heart of Sun City.

  Only the best organizations existed and housed in mega-structures such as this one. To be on the team of these cutting-edge companies
that only hired the elite employees was a major accomplishment and meant higher pay, advancement, and respect. People either were self-employed or worked for smaller family-owned businesses. With so many people vying for jobs, it was a privilege to walk through Meridian’s doors.

  Maggie stared at this structure in amazement, having yearned for a chance to be interviewed. Now for the first time in five years, her wish would come true. Love 2040 caught the attention of Entertainment International and she would be an overnight sensation.

  “Can I help you? It’s not as intimidating as it looks,” said a man with sunglasses, tight jeans, and a leather jacket. His friendly and direct gaze caught her off-guard.

  “I know exactly where I’m going, just needed to prepare for my meeting. Thanks for your time,” said the new MJ, swallowing her fears and ignoring her fast-beating heart.

  “Hey, nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see your around here,” he said as he took off his glasses to reveal his piercing aquamarine eyes and hurried through the glass doors and up the transporter.

  Mark Thompson, Vice President of Space Ventures International, Maggie remembered from the media blogs--a key player in the space travel industry. Maggie secretly blushed and hurried to the transporters.

  Her appointment with Entertainment International had been confirmed yesterday with Rachel, the robotic receptionist. She dreamed of this day and practically fainted when she received a call. She had applied several times while working at LiveItUp.com, but failed to get past the receptionist. The entertainment company appealed to everyone, offering the best in virtual entertainment from movies to video games and altered-reality experiences.

  Doubts and misgivings took over as she sat down at her computer. She turned on the computer and reviewed the script that she had worked on tirelessly while still employed. She slowly began transferring the manuscript into a blog, each chapter unfolding to her fans, and created a Sim World under the name of MJ Moore with mostly followers who were writers. But she needed to reach a greater audience.

  Maggie stared at the screen after re-reading the first blog and imagined being on the top of the Eiffel Tower where the two characters first met. She clicked on her Sim World and found herself transported to the first scene in the book, standing beside the characters as they professed their true love. The story moved like a real-time movie, which made the book and characters come alive.

  It all seems so real, scary… yet exhilarating. It’s like I’m in my own world, Maggie thought. She created this virtual place, at one with the characters. At first it scared the hell out of her, wondering how she did it and if she would return to the real world. With a click of her watch she connected to the site and then back at her desk. Maggie checked the date and time and drank a cup of coffee. It’s February 20, 2040, she thought and breathed a sigh of relief.

  She sent her link out on G Net, hoping to get a few responses. A few brave souls tried it, but then Love 2040 caught on and went viral. People loved her blog and the thrill of reliving the story. As the night progressed and into the early morning hours, she picked up another thousand followers, which then tripled and quadrupled. At first, she didn’t believe it, but she caught the eye of one Entertainment International’s editors, Max Fields: “Amazing site and story, will forward to my publisher, George Meyers.”

  When she called to set up the appointment, she mentioned Max.

  “This is MJ Moore, author of Love 2040. Max Fields referred me. I’d like to speak with George Meyers,” Maggie said.

  “WHO IS THIS?” the robotic receptionist shouted.

  “He’ll be surprised to know that Love 2040 has 100,000-plus followers and is becoming an overnight sensation.” Her hands shook, but her voice stayed steady.

  The robot stopped and stared at the wall monitor, its face-recognition system indicating someone she recognized vaguely from one of G Net’s sites.

  “UHH, I’M VERY SORRY. OF COURSE, MS. MOORE. LET ME CHECK WITH MR. MEYERS.”

  While waiting, she was able to compile the company’s net worth, key money-makers, and George’s favorite color in a matter of seconds. Maggie glanced in the mirror as she began conversing with George Meyer. Staring back at her was the young, stylish M.J. Moore, author of Love 2040. She proceeded to clinch that important meeting, having used Max’s name and highlighting the number of instant followers. George’s craggy face and neatly-trimmed gray hair appeared on her watch. Another gray hair to deal with— will he be tech-savvy enough to understand my idea? It seems like that generation will never retire! MJ sighed. For reasons unknown, he eagerly squeezed her in for a 15-minute appointment.

  Now standing in the lobby of Entertainment International, she felt a little insecure. Could she really pull off being M.J. Moore? Her blog was solid, her image perfected, and facts on Meyers all straight in her head. She created this unbelievable blog, but could it be marketed and sold to the public? Was she the failure Vera terminated?

  Maggie presented an imprint to the robot, hoping its receptors would remember her irises’ identity.

  “MJ Moore to see George Meyers for a meeting at 9 a.m.,” she said.

  The robot’s mechanical eye recognized her and called George to the lobby. Maggie inhaled. Phase I had been accomplished. Now for the hard part.

  The door closed behind them.

  “Well, hello, Ms. Moore. You know I am very busy. Just have a few minutes to review your blog. I have seen the reviews, but never tried it,” said George as he squinted at her site.

  As Maggie pitched the idea to George, her eyes focused on photos of all the bloggers, books, movies, and games that Entertainment International had made successful. George listened carefully and then took off his glasses to ponder this idea. She hoped she wouldn’t be rejected after getting this far; she focused on his eyes, her stare unwavering.

  “Thank you for seeing me. I know your time is limited, so I will direct you to my site and let you experience it on your own time. I believe it has the potential to make you a lot of money and will change your ideas of blogs forever,” she said. She had his full attention, his eyes glued to hers and then directed to the screen. Her captivating style and message reeled him in.

  Guided by Maggie, George tapped on the site, clicked on the Sim World and disappeared into his computer screen, Maggie following him.

  “You’ve chosen to sun on the beach in the Riviera. See my characters over there?” said Maggie, pointing to a lounge chair under a huge tan canvas umbrella.

  “It’s like a dream come true. Are you sure we’re really here?” George said. He gazed around at the real-life yet simulated world around him.

  “If you don’t believe me, take a scoop of sand and put it in this plastic container and bring it back with you,” said Maggie. She imagined herself back at Entertainment International.

  George landed at his desk, huffing, puffing, and sweating, holding the container of sand. He poured it out into his hand, glancing at the sparkling granules, sifting through his fingers.

  Maggie immediately joined him, seated across from him and unimpressed with his reaction. She started toward the door.

  “Wait, wait, don’t rush off, MJ. I must say you have quite a different approach from any of our other bloggers— very exciting and innovative. Not sure how you created it. But I want you to meet our new editor, Vera Vixen. What’s your schedule look like?” asked George.

  “Uh sure. Of course. Tomorrow?” said Maggie. It wasn’t enough to get out of this rut, conquer her insecurities and prove she was really a writer, but to deal with the previous boss she once despised. It was all too much to swallow. Just when she had George hooked she had to deal with the woman who ruined her career. But she had to tackle this issue head on and fight her way to her dreams, no matter what obstacles.

  “Tomorrow night. You don’t have to leave your home. I’ll set it up. Leave your number with Rachel at the front desk. Ciao, baby,” said George and continued to peruse her site.

  Lena

  “YOU DROPP
ED SOMETHING. FLOOR NUMBER?” said the robot, controlling the transporter floors. Its right robotic arm extended to pick up her briefcase and handed it to Lena, while pushing the floor buttons with his left hand.

  Lena stared speechless at the robot with its clean-shaven, almost too-smooth face, dressed in a Meridian uniform. Looks like a human, but sounds like a machine. Glad I didn’t run into any of those on the street, she laughed inwardly. She also felt very uncomfortable in a monotone one-piece suit, found in the homeless lodge director’s closet.

  “INFINITY INVESTMENTS,” the robot said and the door opened. Lena slipped out and approached the formidable glass doors. Her business acumen and dreams of being a stockbroker flashed before her— daily trading, professionals in smart attire, large offices, and that cozy condo she had always dreamed about. She caught her image in the reflected glass and fixed a stray hair.

  She learned a lot living on the streets— resourcefulness, simplicity, and most of all humility. Lena wanted a fresh start with a new life and attitude. If she got her confidence back, she could do it all over again— this time with grace and integrity. Lena mustered up some courage and entered the office doors. Everything had changed, from the décor to the use of robots. The marble floors, high-backed chairs, and expensive paintings were now replaced with comfortable couches on tan carpet and potted plants.

  “CAN I HELP YOU?” inquired the female robot at the front desk, its eyes directed on her monitor.

  “Lena Davis. I’m here to see JD Chambers for a stockbroker position,” said Lena.

  The robot scanned her imprint into the computer and placed a call to another office. “DO YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT?” it asked.

  “My background speaks for itself and I am highly qualified. My reputation is well-known among my peers and I have recommendations from my previous employers. Just five minutes of her time is all I need,” Lena said and wondered if the robot would understand.