“I would think the State Supreme Court will have—” Judge Carmichael began, not even looking at the papers.
“The State and Federal Supreme Court’s decision will have no bearing on this statute as it is written.” The attorney for the city was handsome, dapper even, and he was wearing a blue suit.
“Section S, Part IV, paragraphs A1 through A5, subheading 4b state that if Amendment 4895 of the United States Constitution is passed, Section 8, paragraph 5 cannot be overturned by the Supreme Court on the Federal or State level. Amendment 4895 was passed overwhelming by the Senate and House last week, the President signed it into law on Saturday. Therefore, the city recommends that Mel Howard receive his punishment and then be taken back to his place of employment as—”
Judge Carmichael pounded his gavel. “I’ve had enough of this! I’m not listening to any more of this drivel until I and my staff research this issue more!”
A dozen well-suited men and women who had been sitting in the spectator section of the court rose to their feet and began approaching the bench.
Mel turned around, confused. Judge Carmichael pounded his gavel. “Sit down! Bailiff! Call security!”
Judge Carmichael, the bailiff, the lone Sheriff’s Deputy present in this particular court room, and Mel Howard and his court-appointed Defense Attorney were no match for the worker bees sent by Corporate Financial Consulting to enforce a provision of the new Labor Law that had been signed by the President of the United States over the weekend, a provision that was hidden beneath hundreds of pages of pork concealing the fact that the American Worker—everybody from Janitors to Architects, as well as retirees and those currently working—was now owned by their employer, and giving said employer carte blanche to do anything they wanted with them in order to maintain and improve company productivity.
Which explained why José and Glenda Gonzalez, retired from the Automobile Club of Southern California for over a decade, were now working at the positions they once held at their old place of employment.
The only difference was that José and Glenda once got paid a comfortable salary and benefits.
Now they were lucky if they were allowed to go to the bathroom or take a nap.
Glenda lasted thirty-six hours before her supervisor ordered building security to have her taken to the basement for punishment and re-assessment training after she collapsed to the floor in fatigue.
José lasted eight hours longer.
And so it went.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ALAN PERKINS HAD been correct about the immersion. When it was presented to Michelle that afternoon at two o’clock, they gave her the impression it was a form of privilege and pampering for the upper-level executive consultants as well as all the upper-level managers and executives. “Think of it as another perk,” Sam Greenberg told her as he led her down a well-lighted hallway in the basement of the building toward a door at the end. “Corporate Financial has a gymnasium, a swimming pool and sauna, a racquetball court, and an executive lounge and bar as part of its benefits package for all our upper level staff members. We also bring in personal trainers and other therapists. This is just one sort of therapy. It’s a form of anti-stress, light hypnosis designed to open certain parts of your mind and prepare them for high levels of thought and analytical thinking you will be performing as part of your duties to our team.”
“So it’s like a high grade of psychotherapy geared toward your upper-level staff,” Michelle said.
“Yes, very much so,” Sam Greenberg responded. “Ah, here we are.” He led Michelle through a pair of large doors that, in turn, led to a small waiting room. Another hallway branched off into darkness. There was a maroon-colored receptionist desk to her right; it was currently empty. Sam led her across the waiting area toward the hall. “Linda is on assignment on the fourth floor,” he explained. “She’s a great hypnotherapist and many times she’s called up by Bruce or even Frank Marstein himself to tend to somebody at their desk. She’s very good at what she does.”
Sam led her down the dark hallway and stopped at a door. He opened it and went inside. Michelle followed him.
The room was small and well-lit. There was a potted plant in one corner and a comfortable-looking lounge in the center. “Lie down on the lounge,” Sam said. “I can get you started.”
Michelle set her briefcase, laptop, and purse down on one side of the lounge and settled herself down. This is where it starts, she thought as she stretched out. Despite knowing what was going to happen, what Sam had in store for her, she wasn’t afraid.
Sam was standing near the door fiddling with something on the wall. A moment later she heard gentle, soothing music pipe in from hidden speakers. “There we go,” he said. He turned to her, his features pleasant, smiling. “Simply lie down, relax, close your eyes. I’ve set the first wave in motion and this is just something to calm you down, get you in the mood. I’ll post a note on Linda’s desk that you’re here and she can work on the rest of your immersion when she returns.”
“Okay,” Michelle said. She closed her eyes. “Will she actually come in the room?”
“Probably for a little bit,” Sam said. “She’ll want to make sure I’ve put the right program in and have the settings adjusted right. Then she’ll be outside monitoring you.”
Michelle thought about this as Sam left. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” he said.
“Okay.”
The minute Sam was gone Michelle opened her eyes.
She lay on the lounge, staying silent and motionless. The room was darkened. The music was low, soothing, and combined with the atmosphere in the room—temperature, the scent, which was smoothly intoxicating with a hint of jasmine. If she’d kept her eyes closed she was sure she would have gone under quickly. The mood was very relaxing, designed to put you in a dream-like semi-conscious state that would allow one to enter your thoughts and influence your thinking.
She wondered how this worked and she allowed herself to close her eyes briefly. No telling if there were hidden cameras in the room watching her. She kept her eyes closed and focused on the music for a little bit, letting it transport her, caressing her pleasure senses. The slight scent of jasmine was wonderful and it put her in a relaxed state of mind. The temperature felt like the offshore breezes of the ocean; calm, peaceful, paradise. Michelle smiled, day dreaming about the daughter she had that was lost to her so quickly. In her daydream she pictured Alanis as a healthy ten-year-old, and mother and daughter were on some remote island paradise. Michelle was relaxing in a hammock, eyes closed, feeling the ocean breeze blow from a crystal clear blue ocean off their private beach as Alanis played in the sand near her, her daughter’s happy voice laughing as she made up some childish game that was bringing her joy. The dream was wonderful, one Michelle wished she could step into and disappear into, having it become reality.
Alanis stood up. She was wearing a yellow bathing suit. Her hair was golden and wavy, her skin tanned from the sun. There was damp sand on her feet and ankles. “Mommy! Look what I found!”
Michelle opened her eyes and looked at what Alanis was holding in her palm. “It’s a sand dollar!” Alanis said, excited.
The image was blurry. Her mind and body were tired from relaxing in the hammock—she felt like she had been floating on big white fluffy clouds. The sun was warm and pleasant and the offshore breeze kept off the heat, making it perfectly pleasant. Michelle blinked, trying to adjust her vision to see what Alanis was holding.
It wasn’t a sand dollar. It was a silver dollar. Michelle frowned.