The Annihilation of Foreverland

Reed’s mind and haunted Foreverland. He knew that she was getting stronger and more troublesome. But he wasn’t looking in the other direction.
    They were on the threshold of mankind’s next great discovery. Freedom from the body. Enlightenment through technology.
    The Director would go down in history ahead of Edison , Einstein and Jobs.
    He would become the 21 st century Buddha.

    When the Director was young – in his 20s – he travelled to Third World countries, places like Ethiopia and Rwanda . He went there to help people with suffering. He brought them medicine and food; he worked with government officials to curb corruption. He educated them. But there was nowhere to go. And the more he helped, the more he saw their suffering.
    It wasn’t just the physical suffering. It was the suffering of the mind.
    He decided, after only two years of service, the world needed a revolutionary way of healing the mind. If the mind operated clearly, physical suffering could be tolerated, even avoided. Nothing in the last thousand years brought relief to the mind. People weren’t going to the mountain tops to meditate for twenty years, they were plugging in smartphones and tablets. They needed easier access to real freedom. The record number of prescriptions for depression was proof we were doing something wrong.
    Life is suffering.
    The Director came to the island to save humanity because God wasn’t helping. He meditated on the cliffs and explored the wild. He rebuilt the island, renovated the buildings and created a paradise that would heal the body and nurture the soul. His father – just before his death – had developed alternate reality and the Director used it to rewrite corrupt minds and correct bad habits. He would do what the Buddha failed to do: b ring enlightenment to the masses.
    Such an endeavor wasn’t free. He would need money. Lots.
    But the Investors would need a reason to spend that kind of money. They weren’t interested in altruistic endeavors like the Director; they needed a return on their investment that would be worth the risk. The Director gave them one. He gave the old and dying Investors what they desired most. He gave them the only thing their money couldn’t buy.
    More life.

    The Director holstered a machete to cut through the overgrown paths. He carried a sitting cushion to the elevator. He decided that he would sit meditation on the cliff to further contemplate the future of the program. His thirty years had culminated at this very moment. He did not want to be rash.
    Mr. Clark waited in a golf cart outside the front doors of the Chimney.
    “Director,” he said, “the Investors would like a word.”
    “I see.” The Director started around the cart. “I will hike first, Mr. Clark.”
    “They request your presence immediately.”
    “Mr. Clark, I am not prepared for a meeting. I have a schedule. Presently, they’re not on it. But I’ll make room later today.”
    The Director started around again and Mr. Clark bumped the cart in front of him. “I think now, Director, would be an appropriate time to alter your schedule. Impatience can fester, you see. I suggest you come along.”
    “I see.” The Director balanced the tip of the machete on the front of the cart. “Mr. Clark, what is it that cannot wait an hour?”
    “Your future, Director.”
    He laughed. “I don’t attend those meetings.”
    “Today, you do.” Mr. Clark patted the seat. “We’re all in this together. And we don’t care how silly you look.”
    The Director didn’t mind the insult to his hiking gear. He didn’t like meeting on their terms. And certainly not on their grounds. But he slid onto the seat. Without the Investors, there was no program. And he was so close.
    They took the wider path, heading for the Mansion.

47
    Danny stepped back into the cover of the trees. He had been hiding outside the Chimney, trying to figure out how to get around Mr. Clark and through the front doors. Danny assumed he was there to pick the Director up, but the minutes dragged on.
    The Director looked like he was going on safari. Danny had never seen the man in person. There was a picture of him in the cafeteria posing with a bunch of happy boys like they’d just won the lottery. He was smaller in person and sported a pot belly. He was wearing long sleeves and rugged pants with boots laced up to his knees.
    He wasn’t happy to see Mr. Clark, the way he jabbed the machete into the cart. After a few words, he got on