Anamnesis, Zorina Alliata [the dot read aloud TXT] 📗

I was very young; it had powerful roots and many branches and full-blown flowers and large leaves and it knew exactly what it wanted. This love had dignity, nuances, shadows, sweetness and bitterness in just the right amounts; it was mature and painful, and real.

It added a glow to the world, it painted brilliant shadows over my existence; it gave contours and meaning to old things; it made life smooth and manageable, an easy flow under my fingers. It vibrated under my skin, making me smile for no reason; it itched with silent desire. The numbers mellowed, sweetened, lit up all around me; I could sense happiness somewhere close, and I understood what other people felt when things went right.

“So how’s your love muffin?” Lou asked as soon as I got home, with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

“So darn cute and so darn smart, I could just eat him up,” I sighed. “Can I at least kiss him? I think that a kiss can’t do much harm. Come on! What do you say? I’ll die if I don’t kiss him soon.”

“Out of the question,” Lou said seriously, shaking his delicate hand at me. “First you want to see, then you want to smell, then you want to touch, then you want to taste, and next thing you know you’ll burn in Hell forever.”

“I didn’t know you believed in Hell,” I said, surprised.

“Believe?” Lou asked. “I think I’ve seen it a couple of times, when I missed my way in the fog.”

I laughed. “Why would I be forever condemned if I kiss a man who’s not even married yet? Is your God that cruel and revengeful?”

“He’s not my God. He’s just God,” Lou said. “If you can’t see Him in your numbers, it doesn’t mean that He’s not there. Maybe He’s the one that created the numbers.”

I laughed again, bitterly. “The numbers are nothing but Nature,” I said. “Little fireflies in the darkness and mystery of creation. And by creation I mean simple chemical reactions that freakishly resulted in highways, marketing strategies and computers as the human race evolved. We’re born, we live and we die, and that’s it and nothing more. That’s Nature, baby. She’s all we’ve got.”

“Then what about me?” Lou asked. “I don’t have any numbers around me. I am not Natural. Don’t I exist? Am I not here in your kitchen?”

I paused. “Are we talking about this now?” I asked. “Because last time we did, you wound up crying for an hour, and I was so upset I couldn’t see any numbers the next morning and I couldn’t go to work. Can I just enjoy my forbidden love and share my stupid feelings with you, and just hang out here without explaining away the Universe?”

“Alright,” he muttered. “But I exist. I don’t know why or how, but I know that I am. Just so you know. No numbers to hold me up either. Just me, whatever that is. Just so you know.”

“I know,” I said, and took his arm as we walked together into the living room. “I know.”

*-*-*

Dante spent Wednesday evening at Bea’s again. After she cooked dinner, perfectly aligned noodles of vegetarian lasagna, he decided to call his mom.

“I didn’t go home for two days,” he explained. “Usually she doesn’t call me anyway, but I thought after that night I called from West Virginia, she hadn’t heard from me since and she might be worried.”

Bea smiled approvingly. A man who loves his mother was healthy and normal, as far as she was concerned.

“Mom?” she heard Dante say on the phone. “What?... Why?... Yes, a lawyer came a couple of days ago… I don’t know, Monday or so... Yeah, but the papers are worthless, I researched and Dad is not a shareholder… It was all a mistake, they told me… Yeah, I have them, they’re in my car. Well, but I have plans tonight… Yeah, it’s a woman… Well, I don’t wanna… I’ll be there tomorrow night, if that makes you feel better... I promise. I’ll be careful.”

He hung up, a puzzled look on his face. “My mom wants me to go sleep at her house tomorrow night,” he said to Bea. “She is afraid that someone is after some stupid papers a lawyer gave me by mistake. She thinks people are following me and stuff.”

Bea listened, concerned. Dante had told her his story and it did seem too strange to be just a series of coincidences. Bea was a big fan of conspiracy theories; most lonely nights, she would cuddle up with a mystery book.

“I think it’s silly,” Dante said. “Why would anyone want some papers with no value? My mom is just being weird, that’s all. She’s always trying to tell me what to do and scare me away from people and stuff.”

“Well, bring the papers upstairs and let’s look at them,” Bea said. “Maybe there’s something in them that you didn’t notice.”

“I don’t see why not,” Dante said. “I’ll be right back.”

While downstairs, he also moved the car to an empty space on Eye Street. Bea’s apartment was in Adams Morgan, one of his favorite DC neighborhoods; however, the street parking allowed time was only two hours before nightfall. Searching through his trunk, he found the file the lawyer gave him. Crumpled along with it, he saw the letter he was supposed to give to Valois.

“Oh my God,” he told Bea breathlessly when he got back in her apartment. “I forgot to deliver the letter to that freak who wanted to beat me up.”

“The Marketing Guy?” Bea asked.

“Yeah, the one who was supposed to know all the Company’s history. What do I do?”

“Let’s open it,” Bea offered. “I don’t think you should see him again, and maybe we’ll find out some secret about it from the letter.”

They opened the letter together. It was a memo addressed to all Senior Management, and it announced the new secure Intranet for their eyes only. It contained an URL, a username and a password for access. Before he even finished reading, Dante had opened Bea’s laptop and connected to the Company’s VPN using the credentials from the letter. He opened the Intranet home page, and they both stared at the screen.

The web page had a black background and bright red letters. It had links to CPR Reports, Payroll and product development tracking. More importantly, it had a link to the Company’s History, which Dante followed. An index page with several other hundred links opened.

An hour and a half later, due to Bea’s organizing skills and analytical ability, they were able to summarize the whole history of the Company. It had been founded by Dante’s father; they could not figure out the year, because it seemed to have existed forever in one form or another, operating under different names at different times. An Italian company long ago, it had come to America by the way of New York City, selling olive oil and Italian wine.

In 1968, his father took new partners – Dante’s mother and some angel investors from her family, and went public, issuing shares to both partners. Her family name was French – Beaufort. A year later, when Dante was born, they put shares in his name also. From there, it seemed to have sparked a quarrel between partners; there were hostile bids, board coups, and the stock price suffered. In the end, Dante’s father had bought back all ownership of the Company, and proceeded to extend its scope and goals until it became universal. His father remained CEO and President but never appeared or used his name publicly; he avoided the press; his representatives were lawyers and PR people. Three months ago, after Christmas, a new CEO with a French name had taken over. Soon, he replaced the whole management with his own people.

“I wonder where my father is,” Dante said, worried. “I think I was right, and he really needs me to find him and rescue him. Those French guys only tried to stop me by giving me bad information. I can’t believe I wasted three days because of them.”

“We’ll find him, don’t worry,” Bea said, taking his hand into hers. “I’ll help you, and I’m sure Anna and Feliks will help, too, if you ask them. They are your friends.”

“Wait, this is all making sense now,” he said, trying hard to think. “They changed the management but not all the workers; that’s why I got the memo from the good secretary. But then as I went up the chain, they were erasing all traces of us from the system. When I got to Valois, he was Senior Management, so he knew who I was and he tried to hurt me.”

“But why?” asked Bea. “There’s a new CEO now. Why do they still want to hurt you and your dad?”

“My brain hurts,” Dante complained. “This is hard! Now, if I was a nasty CEO and the former CEO and his son still owed half the company, what would I do? Get rid of them, of course. So maybe they got rid of my Dad. But how come they didn’t get rid of me three months ago?”

“Maybe they didn’t know about you,” Bea offered. “I mean, you didn’t know your own Dad ran the Company. Maybe he kept it secret and they found out about it when the lawyer came to give you all the shares.”

“So then they sent me to that camp to kill me, yes,” Dante agreed. “And when I escaped, they sent me to those meetings that didn’t exist.”

“.. And then they sent you to me. So they’re trying to say that you’re crazy so you can’t use your shares and vote at the meeting on Monday.”

“Oh, my God,” Dante said. “You are so smart! Yes, this makes perfect sense now!”

“It’s probably suspicious if they make you disappear also,” Bea said. “First your dad, then you, this would have triggered some nasty SEC investigation.”

“What the hell are they voting for in that meeting on Monday anyway?” Dante wondered. He went back to the laptop and clicked on some more links. “Ah,” he said, “here it is. Shareholder meeting – oh, they’re voting on the new CEO. He’s only acting CEO right now. So, yeah, I can see why they’re pissed.”

“Okay,” said Bea. “Here’s the thing. You own half the Company. I don’t think you should go back to work until Monday. I think it could be dangerous. We’ll stay here at my place. I’ll call in sick the rest of the week and stay with you.”

“Well, I feel kinda stupid hiding out. And quit my job? I don’t know, it’s just weird.”

“Look here,” Bea said, looking at the other papers Dante had brought up. “Your dividends went into a trust account all these years. Now you signed this so the account is opened to you.”

“Okaaay,” said Dante.

“Sit down, baby,” Bea said, taking him to the couch. “You have forty-five million dollars in the bank.”

“Huh?” asked Dante.

“You are a millionaire, baby,” she said softly. “You don’t need to work anymore.”

Dante thought about that for a minute. It didn’t make him feel any different.

“Whatever,” he said. “I’ll still want to work. Okay, maybe now I can get a job that matters for once. When you think about it, it’s silly that you have to be rich to get a job you care about.”