Monday, November 25, 2013

Challenges from The Condo #8


Challenges from The Condo #8

Chapter 2: A Gated community

 

The Condo: or...Life, a Sequel by Dalma Takács is available from

Amazon.com. (Pap. $17.99; E.book / Kindle ed. $9.99)

 ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Jasper and Mike got out and walked across the plush red carpet to the desk of the concierge, who was sitting on a stool at the counter, checking something on his computer. He did not look up but read the data aloud to himself. “Jasper Wergild . . .  architect . . .  Education: Dartmouth College . . . Expelled in senior year . . . B.A. English UCLA . . . Taught high school for three years . . .  M.A., University School of Architecture . . . Licensed on . . . after his third try . . . DBA Jasper Wergild Architect . . . Filed for chapter 11 bankruptcy . . . Six months in Iraq on road construction project . . . Taken hostage by insurgents . . . Married Marguerite Burnstein, daughter of John Burnstein, president of Burnstein and Burnstein Co. . . First major project: Infinity Towers . . . One child . . . died at eight months old . . . Wife Marguerite filed for divorce in . . . Reconciled . . . Freeway accident . . . Wife Marguerite not due yet . . .” He looked up. “Good morning, sir, welcome to Paradise Point.”
          Jasper was taken aback. “Where did you get all that information? What else is on there?”
          The concierge smiled. “Oh, there’s a lot more in your file, sir.
          “This is an invasion of privacy. I demand that you delete this file.”
          The concierge was patient. “These are permanent records, sir, and cannot be deleted.”
          “Well, we’ll see about that,” Jasper fumed. “Meanwhile, I’d like to see the condo I’ve bought. I suppose you have a record of that too.”
          “Certainly.” The concierge turned to Mike. “Take Jasper to unit 314.”
          “I will need a cell-phone and a computer.”
          “Each unit is equipped with a computer. And I will give you your personal phone.” The concierge reached under the counter and produced a bubble-wrapped phone.
          Jasper took the package. He looked at the label, which said, Soul-Phone for Jasper Wergild. Hear what the world is thinking. “What’s this? A new gimmick? Personalized no less. Look here, I don’t need all those fancy features. I just want a regular cell-phone.”
          “This is the only brand we carry,” the concierge said.
Jasper took his phone and charged after Mike into the elevator.
          Unit 314 left him no cause for complaint. He did not realize that he had bought a fully furnished condo, and he was surprised to find that the furniture and the fixtures matched his taste exactly.
          “Everything satisfactory, sir?” Mike asked.
          “Not bad, not bad at all,” Jasper said as he threw himself into an ivory colored soft leather couch and propped his feet up on a glass-topped table. “I think I’m going to like this place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must call my wife.” He looked at his watch. “Damn! It must have stopped in the crash. They don’t make Rolexes like they used to. I’ll have to trade it in for a Timex.”
          Mike waited respectfully until Jasper stopped laughing. “Sir, I mean, Jasper. I keep forgetting that we are supposed to use first names. Let me give you a few pointers. At Paradise Point we have . . . a different system. So until you are familiar with the procedures, take it slowly. And read the instructions for the phone.”
          “All right, I will. And thank you, Mike,” Jasper said briefly, hoping to be left alone.
          “Just one more thing,” Mike said. “You will be left alone, but you will get help if you ask. Also, you might want to meet your neighbors. They could help you a lot. After all, you are all in the same boat as it were.”
          By now Jasper was prying his phone loose from the bubble wrap and barely heard Mike leave and close the door behind him. Mike is like my mother, always telling me to read the instructions.
          He pressed the Talk button and dialed his home number. A recorded voice answered. “Please state clearly the name and age of the person you wish to reach."
          “Marguerite Wergild,” Jasper said.
          The voice continued. “Please state the age of the person you wish to reach.”
          “What the hell has her age got to do with it?” Jasper sputtered.
          The voice repeated the instruction.
          Jasper waited in frustration. The voice repeated the message three more times. Finally, exasperated, he said, “She is thirty-five years old, not that it’s any of your business.”
          The voice repeated what he had said: “You wish to reach Marguerite Wergild, thirty-five years old. To refine your search, you may state the exact date and place of the desired communication.”
          “The time is now, the place is our home, you moron,” he shouted.
          “Time: the present. Place: home. I will make the connection,” the voice droned.
          “Finally,” Jasper said as he heard Marguerite’s phone ring. At last he heard her voice and he burst out with “Honey I’m in Florida. Guess what? I bought a condo. You’ll really like it. That’s the good news. Now the not so good news: on the way down I had a little accident and wrecked the car. But the good news is that I’m OK, and I want you to hop on a plane and come down here.” He held forth for more than a minute before he realized that there was no reaction from Marguerite.
          “Did you hear what I said?” he asked and waited.
          Marguerite was there and talking, but not to him. “. . . Jasper went off early this morning. Said he had to meet a boring client in Florida. He thinks I’m jealous. Jealous? Of whom for heaven’s sake? He just doesn’t get it. Ever since Ben died he’s been living like a hermit. He wraps himself up in his business deals and small talk; there’s no getting near him. The party was my last attempt to get him to open up. I thought if he met some of his old friends—”
          Jasper pressed the End button. I must have been connected while she was talking to Nancy, he thought. He figured he’d wait until his wife finished her conversation before calling again. Meanwhile he must contact Joe to let him know he would be late returning, and the Triple A to pick up the car, and his insurance agent, and Hertz Rent-a Car for another loaner, and his lawyer to advise him on how to force Paradise Point to delete all the personal information from his file.
He spent the rest of the afternoon calling all the familiar numbers and swearing at the recorded voice that demanded the age of the person called. If he complied, he got to hear the person, but the person did not hear him. He heard Joe complain to someone about all the work Jasper neglected and left him to shoulder. He heard his lawyer debate about the fee he should charge for representing Jasper against Duter and Co. He tried Marguerite again, but she was still moaning about her frustrations.
Finally he picked up the instructions and started reading. “The Soul-Phone: Hear what the world is thinking! An entirely innovative concept in telecommunications. . .Of all the stupid advertising gimmicks!” he muttered to himself as he left his apartment, banging the door behind him. By the time he got to the concierge, he was boiling over.
“Please get me a regular phone right now. I have no use for this junk!”
            The concierge gave him a puzzled look. “What seems to be the problem?”
           Jasper threw the instruction sheet on the counter. “Is this some kind of April Fool’s joke? It says here that this phone transmits people’s thoughts?”
          “Does it malfunction for you?”
          “Malfunction! It has no function! Every time I dial I get a bad connection. Instead of a busy signal I hear the party speaking to someone else. I hear my wife speaking to her girlfriend, but she doesn’t hear me.”
          “Jasper, your wife is not speaking to her girlfriend. It sounds like speech, but what you actually hear are her thoughts and feelings. The phone is in perfect order. You just have to get used to it.”

 
It seems that Jasper still does not get it...

Monday, November 18, 2013

Challenges from The Condo #7


Challenges from The Condo #7

Chapter 2: A Gated community

 

The Condo: or...Life, a Sequel by Dalma Takács is available from

Amazon.com. (Pap. $17.99; E.book / Kindle ed. $9.99)

Jasper has no choice but to get out of his wrecked car. To his surprise, he succeeds, and his dubious paramedics promise to give him a ride to Paradise Point Condominiums.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ?
Jasper was regaining his strength and his sense of humor. What a story this will make, he thought. Marguerite will like it.
Sitting between his two escorts in the front seat of the ambulance, he watched the vehicle eat the miles. Wishing he had grabbed the brochure for his condo, he tried to recall the directions. He wasn’t sure of the details, but one thing he did remember. “From the turnpike, take Exit 37 West to route 86.” He watched for Exit 37. Exits 34, 35, and 36 peeled off the freeway in quick succession.
He turned to Gene, who was driving. “The next exit is the one I need. Go west on Route 86.”
Gene kept his eye on the road.
Jasper saw the sign for Exit 37. “That’s where we turn off,” he said, louder than before.
Gene kept driving.
“Better change lanes, so you can turn off at Exit 37.” He felt his voice rise.
Gene continued in the center lane. Cars were crowding in the right lane. Soon it would be too late. Jasper turned to Michael, who was looking out the window. “Does your partner have a hearing problem? We need to exit here to get to Paradise Point Condominiums.”
The next minute took them past Exit 37. Gene kept driving. Jasper felt his temper rising in his throat; then he realized that he was trapped. He thought he had a better chance with Michael. “Where are you taking me,” he asked.
Michael put a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, sir. We are taking a shortcut.”
Jasper knew he had no choice. His only chance of escape was to stay on speaking terms with his captors. Gene kept driving, and Jasper kept looking for the next exit. Hours seemed to go by with no exit in sight.
He tried humor. “This shortcut sure is a long time coming. If you keep going this way, we’ll end up in Havana.” His weak joke was tactfully ignored by Mike. Gene kept driving.
At last it came: an exit without a number, but at least it would take them off this merciless freeway. Gene turned off onto a shady country road winding between orange groves. Jasper caught sight of a fruit stand and café ahead.
He suddenly had a plan. “Could you stop at that fruit stand? I need to go to the bathroom.”
“No you don’t,” said Gene.
“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s impossible,” said Mike.
“What do you mean impossible?” Jasper said. “I need to relieve myself. I need to urinate. Do you want me to do it here in the car?”
Gene shook his head in frustration. “He still doesn’t get it, Mike. Explain it to him.”
“Well, it’s like this, guv’nor. It happens to everyone sooner or later. You had a bad accident. You feel all right now, but there are some things missing.”
“You mean I’ve lost . . .”
“Believe me, sir, you won’t miss it. Just hold on until we get to Paradise Point. You’ll see . . . It’ll all turn out right as rain.”
Desperate, Jasper unzipped his pants. Everything was still there, but without life; his balls and penis looked like a plastic model in the doctor’s office. He knew that nothing could turn out right any more. He thought of Marguerite. This was going to be their second honeymoon—the first really. On the first, fifteen years ago, he was much too busy with his designs for the Infinity Building, his first major project. The board’s final approval came through on his wedding night. . .
The ambulance was speeding through the narrow winding lane. They were alone on the road. There seemed to be room for only one vehicle. This must be a one-way road, he thought idly. It could not possibly lead to Paradise Point. Or if it did, he had made a huge mistake in buying the condo. He cursed himself for not checking out the place before signing the papers. What a lousy way to buy a home.
His anger spilled over. “You still haven’t answered my question. Where are you taking me?” As he struggled to reach the doorknob, he tried to dig his elbow into Mike’s chest. It felt like hitting a stone wall.
“Now, now, guv’nor. There’s no need to get upset,” Mike said.
“Better give him a sedative,” Gene said.
“You are not going to drug me,” Jasper shouted as he felt a needle that appeared from nowhere prick him in the arm.
When he came to, the ambulance was driving up a smooth winding drive flanked by lush green lawns dotted with beds of bright flowers. They pulled up before a handsome five-story building. The letters above the marble entrance said “Paradise Point Condominiums.” The place looked exactly like the picture in the brochure. Relieved, Jasper smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry I lost my cool,” he said.
          “No need to apologize, sir,” Mike said. “Happens all the time. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll get you checked in with the concierge.”
          Next Monday, see what the concierge has to say.

 

Monday, November 11, 2013

Challenges from The Condo #6


Challenges from The Condo #6

Chapter 2: A Gated community

 

The Condo: or...Life, a Sequel by Dalma Takács is available from

Amazon.com. (Pap. $17.99; E.book / Kindle ed. $9.99)

???????????
The morning after the party Jasper drove to the airport to catch a flight to Orlando.  He had told Marguerite he was going on a short business trip—a very boring trip, he had said—to meet with a very boring client, no, not a woman, he assured her and laughed. Marguerite did not seem to think that was funny. Probably the party had made her more edgy than usual. Well, the surprise would make up for fifteen years of missed opportunities.
        He glanced at the passenger seat where Marguerite had left her purple fringed scarf. He tried to remember the last time she had sat in his car. Perhaps when they went to the office party at the Sheraton. Each time he had decided to pick it up and give it back to her, he changed his mind. Next time we go somewhere together, he had told himself, she'll find it. That scarf must have sat here for six months, he mused. I'll give it to her when she comes down to see the condo. When he left his car at the airport, he took the scarf and put it around his neck.
He hoped she would be in a good mood. He wondered why Marguerite had to be so uptight about everything. Uptight was the only word he could find to express his frustration with other people. Alone in the car, comfortably isolated from the thousands of frustrating people in the line of cars churning carbon monoxide on the road behind and ahead of him, Jasper thought of his mother, how uptight she had been about everything—his friendship with Jim Faraday, his decision to stop going to church. “One day you are going to meet your Maker, and what will you say to Him?” she used to say. He wondered idly what his mother was saying to her Maker at that moment. Her Maker was probably too busy making more people to replace all the bodies killed by war and famine and the tsunami. He must be one busy CEO to run an operation with a growth rate of twenty percent per annum. He chuckled as he thought of what his mother would say to this reflection. He felt slightly guilty, but also relieved that he no longer could make her uncomfortable. Actually, his mother had been comfortably agnostic throughout his childhood. Perhaps that was why she became so uptight when she found Jesus.
Jasper almost felt sorry he no longer believed the stories of Catholic school. Life was so much simpler when he was young. But he was grown up now, and he knew that heaven and hell are not places for the dead but feelings inside the living. Losing his business to the recession was hell. The war in Iraq was hell. Seeing his first baby was heaven. Burying his first baby was hell. Been there, done that, he thought. Having enough money to buy a condo in Florida was heaven.
In Orlando he rented a car and was looking forward to a leisurely drive on Route 75 to see his condo.
When he stopped for lunch, he looked at the ad again. With Marguerite's scarf still wrapped around his neck, he went over the details:  
Paradise Point Condominiums
A popular destination for upwardly mobile buyers looking for a second home—that’s us.
A gated community offering all the amenities for the luxury of time well spent—sounds good.
Offering both privacy and social interaction as desired—we’ll pick privacy.
Fully equipped fitness center with private fitness trainers—maybe if we run out of conversation.
Health care on the premises—in case the fitness center leaves you disabled.
Stimulating cultural programs—we’ll sit those out.
State of the art computer access—all we need is access to each other.
Private lake, restaurant, spa, swimming pool with poolside bar—in a word, heaven.

An hour later he was back on the road. The French fries and the Tabasco sauce were churning in his stomach. He wished he had taken his antacid before getting back into the car. The sky was becoming overcast. I hope it’s not the hurricane, he thought as splotches of rain hit the windshield. He turned on the wipers. In a few minutes the wipers were paddling in a stream. He grasped the steering wheel with both hands. His eyes straining to see the lines on the road,  he was cursing the idiots who passed him in the deluge. He felt a stupid longing to reach the next bridge. That one second of freedom from the beating rain while he passed under the bridge seemed like a glimpse of heaven.
Suddenly, the supporting concrete pile of the bridge was right in front of him and he felt his tires skidding to the shoulder. There’s no way I can stop in time, he thought as he floored his brake pedal.
The next thing he noticed was the silence. He looked around inside the car. His seat belt was still attached, and the windshield was open. The rain had stopped. I must have passed out, he thought. I hope the cops get here soon. He wondered if he had any broken bones or maybe even a broken vertebra. He was uneasy that he felt no pain. Maybe I’m paralyzed.
Finally he saw an ambulance pull up next to him. He was surprised that he had not heard the siren. Could it be that I’ve lost my hearing, he wondered. Two men got out and approached him.
           “You’ve taken long enough to get here,” he said.
“We got here just in time,” one said.
“You don’t look like paramedics,” he said. The men were dressed in long white robes with wide black belts and looked like a pair of judo instructors. One was a severe-looking tall man with black eyebrows and a drooping moustache like Genghis Khan’s. The other was a middle-aged man with a round face and a paunch to match. He smiled at Jasper as he opened the car door.
            “Out you come, guv’nor,” he said in a comfortable Cockney brogue.
          
            “Don’t you have a stretcher or something to put me on?” Jasper said. “I think I have an injured back.”
“Do as he says and don’t argue,” said Genghis Khan. “We must be on our way.”
Jasper was stung by fear. These men were definitely not paramedics. Trying to stall for time, he said, “Thanks all the same, but I think I’ll wait . . . ” for a real ambulance, he added mentally.
“This is a real ambulance, sir,” the round-faced man said. “Just turn your body to pull your legs from under the steering wheel. Once your legs are out of the car, you’ll be free in no time.”
“I know how to get out of the car,” Jasper muttered.
“Then get on with it, man.” Genghis Khan was not impatient. He just seemed like a man used to being obeyed.
Jasper's temper flared. “If you force me to move with a broken back and I end up paralyzed for life, you’ll have a whopping lawsuit on your hands, you can be sure of that!”
The two men looked at each other, and Jasper was astonished to see them break into a hearty laugh. He felt like child who has unwittingly said something that only adults find funny.
Tune in next Monday to find out if Jasper reaches his condo.