Dreams Unleashed (4 page)

"It's time I go work out," I suddenly announced to no one.

Lulu stood. She knew what that meant.

As I picked up the workout bag beside my desk, I excitedly said, "Come on, Lulu." That got her bottom wagging. Brittany dogs have only a tail-stub, so bottom-wagging was all she could do. Her floor-polishing wobble always made me smile.

As she and I crossed the basement heading for the stairs, I smiled at Paul as he looked up from the web server he was working on, and he returned the smile.

Mmm good
.

After walking up the steps and into the second floor gym, I took my workout clothes to a dressing stall, pulled the curtain, and quickly changed. Lulu waited for me in the corner; she knew the routine. I never was comfortable bearing it all in a gym locker room, especially after watching the movie
Carrie
one Halloween on TV when I was a kid. That movie scared the crap out of me.

Once dressed, I set up Lulu on her own treadmill to the right of mine. This always elicited surprised remarks from the other employees. Then I got on my treadmill next to Lulu and started to jog. I had always used running as a therapy to work through issues.

I've gotta find a way not to let Bennett get to me. I should focus on his good qualities and stop being so annoyed that he's a control freak. Why's it matter anyway? If he were just a manager instead of an executive, you wouldn't be annoyed by his constant manual reviews, right? Right. Let it go.

In the middle of my self-therapy, Paul got on the empty treadmill on the other side of me. He was wearing running shorts that should have been outlawed after 1982. They were made of thin polyester, had a slit up the side showing the built-in underwear, and ended just below his groin.

Paul and I pleasantly chatted about work while we ran together, and the more I sweated, the less I thought about his shorts and his palatable Norwegian bloodline. I really did like Paul, and I enjoyed our physical chemistry. I was mindful and cautious of it, careful not to cross the co-worker line.

"Lulu might be running a faster mile than I am," Paul joked breathlessly.

"No, she's only at level two on the NordicTrack. It just seems faster because she's small," I joked.

Paul laughed.

We often worked out next to one another at lunch, although we never had spoken of doing so. He had watched Lulu and I run together since I'd been at AlterHydro.

"Whenever I come in, and you're putting Lulu on the treadmill without a leash, I always watch people's expressions. At first," he said, "they look shocked. Then, when she doesn't fall off, they're really impressed," he commented with a smile, still breathless.

"She's a very cool dog," I confirmed.

"Yes she is. Just like her mommy," he flirted.

I laughed.

After forty minutes, both Lulu and I were tired. Paul had given up before then, admitting defeat.

After my Carrie-free private shower, I headed outside with Lulu for a short walk. We then went back to my office to eat the organic salad that I had brought from home for lunch. I gave Lulu a fresh bowl of water and her lunch.

Since my job was a serious one, full of technical specifications and deadlines, in addition to the stress of working for Bennett, I spent time every afternoon considering what my next vacation would be. It was my way of taking a mental break for a few minutes each afternoon.

As I dug into my salad, I thought about China. How could a country that had lagged behind the pre-industrial revolution for so long have taken over the entire American manufacturing world? I wanted to go there and experience the energy of a country that could achieve that.

Chapter 3

BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON

The Year 2015

Leaving The 1910, I crossed the parking lot to my sleek BYD H12 convertible. It was black with a slim silver swish around each fender. I was having a love affair with this all-electric car.

My respect for the genius CEO Wang Chuanfu influenced my decision to buy a BYD model. Chuanfu believed that a near-perfect electric car was possible, and he had been working to that end, pursuing new battery technology. He developed not only the longest-lasting and most powerful car battery, but he then developed a system to neutralize the battery without destroying it, in case it began overheating. Chuanfu was the first automotive executive to inspire me.

After my research and subsequent test drive of several BYD models, I was sold on the sleek four-door convertible the moment I sat in the plush, red leather seats. The seats reminded me of the 1960 MGA 1600 Mk I roadster that Elvis Presley drove in the movie
Blue Hawaii
. I saw the movie on television when I was twelve, and the seats were forevermore imprinted in my memory. With gas prices in the eight-dollar range now, and up to twice as much outside the USA, going electric was a viable alternative to the severe prices.

As I let thoughts of work slip from my mind, I felt a small thrill as I pushed the button that would let the top down and give me a clear view of the day's precipitation-free sky. It didn't really matter that it wasn't exactly convertible weather; when I drove the BYD with the top down, the stresses of work and life in general faded away, and I felt free and relaxed.

It was finally spring; the rain had let up its punishing course from the extended winter. When I had moved from the Washington D.C. metropolitan area to Bellingham to take the job with AlterHydro, I was captivated by all the evergreen trees and the close proximity to the Puget Sound. I had grown up in Bellingham, and it felt good to return.

After moving back in late summer of 2012, I expected more rain, but it was August, and I guessed it had to take a break sometime. It wasn't until October that the skies themselves opened up and poured down precipitation, and it didn't stop for a solid seven months. It didn't always pour soaking rain in Bellingham; sometimes it just drizzled all...day...long. I'd arrived in Bellingham with umbrella in hand, but three weeks into the rainy season, I trashed my umbrella and instead picked up a hooded North Face soft-shell jacket with its SecondSkin lining for warmth. I called it my
Bellslicker
, my Bellingham version of a New England rain slicker. I either wore it or kept it by my side all the time.

On the way home from work, I felt like making a pasta salad, so I stopped at the Organic Cooperative to pick up the ingredients and check out through my friend Summer's line. She and I had hit it off immediately when we first met, and we shared some lively conversations. Today it was about Pelamis and the upcoming council meeting.

She was a petite woman, about 5'2", with dyed black hair and bright-pink highlights. Her beautifully sculpted face had blazing green eyes, pale skin, and a substantial Grecian nose. She was a waif of a woman, but she was naturally quite busty. Summer was passionate about alternative energy.

"How're you doin' Ann?"

"I'm great. How are you?"

"I'm good. Did you see the latest news in Scotland with their new Sea Snake?" Summer asked with passion.

The Sea Snake was an alternative energy device that translated the waves of the sea into electricity. Developed by the Scottish company Pelamis, Sea Snake technology took off in 2011. Summer always talked about the Sea Snake; it was her go-to topic of conversation. She told me all about the current Sea Snake trials.

"The Scotts need a break after all; they're paying almost twice as much for gas as we are," I replied.

"I agree. It looks like AlterHydro and Pelamis could have a marriage in your future," Summer baited.

"No way would Bennett ever go for that," I whispered.

Summer laughed. She had grown up with Bennett in Bellingham and knew of his pride.

"Are you going to the next city council meeting?" she asked.

"I'll be there with bells on. I know that a portion of the gasoline tax is supposed to be spent on the city's social programs, but the truth is that the tax is just plugging the budget gap. We get taxed, which causes us stress, and then we need the social programs to help us with the stress. How bizarre is that?" I said, with a sardonic smile.

"You really should bring that up in the response portion of the council meeting," Summer prodded.

"The last time I made a comment in the council meeting, everyone turned and looked at me in unison, like they were clones. All those eyes," I mock shuddered.

Summer giggled with eyes wide and sparkling.

"I don't want that kind of attention, and I certainly didn't like the feeling. I think that someone with real courage needs to bring it up---like you."

"Me? No way. But I understand how you feel," she responded.

"We both complain, but then we don't want to stand up to the council."

"I know, we should be ashamed of ourselves." She winked.

"Whenever people start talking about shame, that's when I exit stage left," I commented, bagging my groceries in my cloth bag.

"Bye, hon," Summer offered with a wave of her hand.

Driving up to my house this beautiful spring day, I admired how the tulips, which lined my driveway, had come into bloom. After three years, the bulbs had finally matured into big Pacific Northwest-sized tulips.

Who would've ever known that Washington would be one of the best places in America to grow tulips?

I loved that tulips were full of vibrancy and classic shape, and for a few short weeks, they were full of living perfection. After planting nearly a hundred of them when I first moved to Bellingham, I hoped that an explosion of color would ease my culture shock from my coast-to-coast move.

As I left my BYD in the driveway, I looked up at the house and was grateful that this home, with its Craftsman style, had nurtured me in this new place. I loved that it was built with classic architecture, along with the new generation of SmartWired home computer technology. I felt that my home was my friend, an ally and a protector.

As Lulu and I left the car and walked up the steps, the front door unlocked and opened automatically, using face recognition technology installed near the front door. Lulu ran in the door to drink water from her pet fountain, then to play with her toys.

She loves our home as much as I do
, I thought.

As I moved through the door and into the open foyer, the front door automatically closed behind me. The lights turned on as I entered each zone. In the kitchen, I unloaded everything from the Co-Op onto the counter.

"Hello, Sinéad. New age mix," I said, addressing my SmartWired home computer.

I decided to call the home's computer Sinéad, in honor of Sinéad O'Connor. I was nineteen years old when the Irish musician's biggest CD,
I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got
, was released, and after attending her concert, I was hooked by the power and passion of the petite artist. Of course, Sinéad's independent personality also appealed to me. Whenever I felt powerless, I would play O'Connor's music to rejuvenate my spirit and remind me that I had purpose.

Naming my SmartWired home Sinéad, in the spirit of rebellion and independence, seemed right to me. SmartWired technology did have an ugly reality: it allowed the U.S. government to track its citizens. In 2015, being tracked by anyone in the government never turned out well for the individual. So the day that I closed on my house, and before moving in a week later, I had some help from an
alternative repairman
from the underground.

Chapter 4

SHANGHAI, CHINA

The Year 2015

I landed at Shanghai Pudong International airport at one thirty-five PM on Tuesday for my meeting with the turbine manufacturer.

"Twenty-three hours in a coach seat. What could be more awful?" I muttered.

Only three hours into the flight, while I was attempting to sleep, a seemingly feeble old woman from a few rows ahead sauntered toward me and snatched the airline's mini-pillow from beneath my head.

Before I could protest the loss, the old woman leaned into my face and slurred the raspy whisky words, "I need this more than you do."

Repulsed by her pungent elder spittle, I sarcastically whispered, "Now isn't this terrific," and wiped my moist face as the drunken magician returned to her seat.

I was fuming and considered alerting a flight attendant, but then I remembered that an air marshal was likely on board and would probably enjoy restraining me. I could see him saying, "Go ahead, make my day." These days it was a very bad idea to make a big deal of anything while a mile high. So I sucked it up, swallowed my anger, and found it impossible to sleep during the next twenty hours of the transatlantic flight. Back and forth I slid and slouched my tall frame in the seat, trying to find a sleeping position that accommodated the fact that the passenger in front of me had his seat fully reclined in my lap.