DNA and Me Part 1: Initiation
Sweat is rushing down my forehead like a dam burst beneath my pores. Slowing flowing down my skin in tiny rivers contained by surface tension. I almost bust my head open as I panically make my way down the now sweat coated rainbow stepped spiral staircase of the Genome Mansion. Memories start to flood back to me, as if the sweat that once emanated my forehead was suddenly sucked back into my pores and directly into my skull forming a whirlpool which drained down my throat and into my stomach, feeding me a sense of dread and anxiety.
“Mr. Stefenson come back, I have a whole world of possibilities to show you!”
Gregory Cheragucci’s booming voice echoed down the hallway passing the spiral staircase and died slowing in the main foyer. The receptionist looked up from her desk glasses reflecting the orange dawn light, hair braided in a bun and a bag under each for for every year she spent working under Gregory. She went back to work pecking on at the keyboard and let out a defeated shrug, this was most people's reaction to Gregory. A great man, a genius, the bombastic bastard, someone you had to keep your eyes on.
“I’ve seen what you really do with investor money and I have no interest in funding your frivolous lifestyle.”
“Look at this building.” Gregory held his hands out and rotated a full three-hundred and sixty degrees.
“Yes I have seen it before, in fact I am in it right now. I am quite un-impressed really. Millions of investor dollars spent on your playboy mansion, parties for it, prostitutes for the parties, and drugs for the prostitutes.”
“Prostitutes! My dear Stefenson! Prostitutes! Gorgeous young clean ladies, you could learn a few thing about having fun from them.” He raised his thick eyebrows and lowered them quickly and repeated the process several times.
“I separate my work from pleasure Mr. Cheragucci, I think you need to do the same.”
“Work, pleasure, when you love your job they become one and the same. Do you enjoy your job Mr. Stefenson?
“I find it brings my satisfaction, both mentally and monetarily.”
“That’s not what I asked you. I asked if you enjoy your job. Does it bring you joy.” He bounced his hands on his stomach as if he has playing one big beer belly bongo.
“Frankly I don’t care if my job brings me joy, I am well off in life and can live comfortably without having to worry about money.”
“By the look on your face I can tell that you don’t have any joy in your life and are definitely not
comfortable. Come back here Friday night at nine, I will give you a new lease on life.”
“Good Night Mr. Cheregucci.”
“Farewell my friend. I wish you nothing but the best on your endeavors.”
I quickly power walk down the stainless steel staircase and down through the lobby, quickly enough to avoid prolonging my conversation with the ever so verbose Gregory Cheragucci. Scurry to the buildings large front french doors, whose glass looks like it was draped with black satin on the outside. I pushed them open and plunged into the darkness. With my arms held out away from my body I carefully make my way to where I think I parked my car. Was it further down the circular drive or did I pass it?
My fingers finally touchdown on the hood ornament. I caress my hand across the surface of the card until I finally reach the door handle. I take a deep breathe and take a seat, then close the door. I ponder if I should give Cheragucci a second chance? Should I go to his party? What could he possibly say that could change my world? However before I can answer my own questions the inside lights of my car go out. I am faced with darkness. I am paralyzed. With a jump I reach for my keys and swiftly put them into ignition. I hit the gas with the urgency of an ambulance and get the hell out of there. I glance at my rear view mirror, There was a figure standing at the door, hands behind his back. Peering through the darkness at me.
“Mr. Stefenson come back, I have a whole world of possibilities to show you!”
Gregory Cheragucci’s booming voice echoed down the hallway passing the spiral staircase and died slowing in the main foyer. The receptionist looked up from her desk glasses reflecting the orange dawn light, hair braided in a bun and a bag under each for for every year she spent working under Gregory. She went back to work pecking on at the keyboard and let out a defeated shrug, this was most people's reaction to Gregory. A great man, a genius, the bombastic bastard, someone you had to keep your eyes on.
“I’ve seen what you really do with investor money and I have no interest in funding your frivolous lifestyle.”
“Look at this building.” Gregory held his hands out and rotated a full three-hundred and sixty degrees.
“Yes I have seen it before, in fact I am in it right now. I am quite un-impressed really. Millions of investor dollars spent on your playboy mansion, parties for it, prostitutes for the parties, and drugs for the prostitutes.”
“Prostitutes! My dear Stefenson! Prostitutes! Gorgeous young clean ladies, you could learn a few thing about having fun from them.” He raised his thick eyebrows and lowered them quickly and repeated the process several times.
“I separate my work from pleasure Mr. Cheragucci, I think you need to do the same.”
“Work, pleasure, when you love your job they become one and the same. Do you enjoy your job Mr. Stefenson?
“I find it brings my satisfaction, both mentally and monetarily.”
“That’s not what I asked you. I asked if you enjoy your job. Does it bring you joy.” He bounced his hands on his stomach as if he has playing one big beer belly bongo.
“Frankly I don’t care if my job brings me joy, I am well off in life and can live comfortably without having to worry about money.”
“By the look on your face I can tell that you don’t have any joy in your life and are definitely not
comfortable. Come back here Friday night at nine, I will give you a new lease on life.”
“Good Night Mr. Cheregucci.”
“Farewell my friend. I wish you nothing but the best on your endeavors.”
I quickly power walk down the stainless steel staircase and down through the lobby, quickly enough to avoid prolonging my conversation with the ever so verbose Gregory Cheragucci. Scurry to the buildings large front french doors, whose glass looks like it was draped with black satin on the outside. I pushed them open and plunged into the darkness. With my arms held out away from my body I carefully make my way to where I think I parked my car. Was it further down the circular drive or did I pass it?
My fingers finally touchdown on the hood ornament. I caress my hand across the surface of the card until I finally reach the door handle. I take a deep breathe and take a seat, then close the door. I ponder if I should give Cheragucci a second chance? Should I go to his party? What could he possibly say that could change my world? However before I can answer my own questions the inside lights of my car go out. I am faced with darkness. I am paralyzed. With a jump I reach for my keys and swiftly put them into ignition. I hit the gas with the urgency of an ambulance and get the hell out of there. I glance at my rear view mirror, There was a figure standing at the door, hands behind his back. Peering through the darkness at me.
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