Audry Kingson Basenji Forge, to many people, was the quintessential person that the world needed. He was the right man for any job. A social magnate with a true understanding about the way the cookie crumbled.

To others he was a liar. Nothing more than a misogynistic monster and elitist dog who was capable of deceiving every person he came across.

But like any person in power, he had an image to uphold.

CosmiCon had grown exponentially when he unveiled it five years prior. It was his shot at gathering great minds and world leaders in one place each year for business ventures. His reasoning was simple; a symposium where all of the moguls, entrepreneurs, and world superstars came together.

The property had become riddled with thousands of people from every corner of the world trying to get a piece of the business legacy. Those most concerned with Audry and his latest endeavors had gathered in the theater complex. It was supposed to be the company’s greatest showcase since it’s conception.

The auditorium lights dimmed until there was sheer darkness.

A woman’s voice spoke through the intercom: “On the eve of the Rion Accord’s birth, every annual period, here in Everhills Rest, we are proud to reveal CosmiCon Year 5.”

The grandiose screen presented a panorama of the company’s headquarters, followed by a collage of the company’s timeline in pictures and short clips.

“At the Rion Accord our goal is to understand the unknown and create cohesion within the modern world.”

Historic footage flashed between images of current events.

Music, compassionate and rhythmic, echoed throughout the room. A handful of 20th and early 21st-Century speech excerpts followed, spoken by their respective authors.

“With over 500 installations and dozens of projects across the world we’re paving the way for a more hopeful future.”

Rion Accord buildings in countries sped through the showcase. The logo, an black anvil with an embedded sword on a field of red, etched on trucks and crates in less fortunate corners of the globe made an appearance.

“A future of promise and clarity, rather than one of missed opportunity and falsehood.”

The showcase began to fade and the music began to drift away softly to the ears.

“Here tonight, the Rion Accord will take you on a journey. We are very excited to reveal our latest plans. So without further ado, CEO of the Rion Accord and founder of Project Skorpio: Mr. Audry Forge!”

A spotlight beamed down onto the centerstage podium. Triumphant music blared through the panned speakers. The crowd cheered and clapped in a cacophony.

But Audry Forge was nowhere to be seen.

Little did they know, Audry Forge had fallen asleep a few miles north in his plateau house with a glass of burgundy in his hand and a broad in his bed…

. . . .

The room was trashed.

“Mr. Forge,” a disembodied voice called to him. “Mr. Forge I warned you to be ready hours ago.”

The unseen home stereo blared Kelly Rowland, bass filling the room, as the television advertised the CosmiCon gathering with live footage.

Audry remained slumped against his headboard as the sleeping guest rolled off of him. A pillow hit the floor where their clothes had been tossed.

“Mr. Forge, you need to wake up.”

Nothing budged him. The faint smell of tequila and spilled mixed drinks created a strong aroma next to the cinnamon-scented aerator. The news outlet on the television began scrambling to understand his absence.

“Mr. Forge, it’s the 5th annual CosmiCon. The stage is empty and the audience is expecting to see you,” the voice said once more.

“Hm?” Audry said, coming to. He raised his brow, eyes still closed.

“CosmiCon is tonight.”

“No,” he whispered.

“Sir, get up. You are late for your own event.”

“Who’s late?”

“You are. Get up Mr. Forge.”

The glass of wine fell from his fingers, spilling all over his leg. Audry jolted awake as if he had just seen a ghost. He peered around the room trying to make sense of things. The TV was enough to paint the picture for him: He was a no-show at his own showcase.

“CosmiCon is now?” he asked. “Quinn, why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

“With all due respect, sir, you told me to go into sleep mode for a few hours.”

“A few? How many hours is a few to you?”

“Five hours, sir… Six on weekends.”

“How long ago did I tell you?”

“Six hours ago.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought this thing was next Friday?”

Audry tossed aside his burgundy covered bed sheets, launching himself out of bed to get dressed.

“No sir, it’s tonight,” Quinn said with irritation.

“Alright let me throw something on. Contact the organizer and tell them I’ve run into some problems getting there.”

“She’s in your bed, sir.”

Audry looked over to the strawberry blonde sleeping under his sheets. He sighed, hating himself.

“How much did I drink?”

“More than the usual. And it seems your lady friend is definitely a bit of a vamp,” Quinn responded. “I’ll be letting Mr. Conroy know you won’t be there for another 30 minutes, give or take. Depending on how fast you can get ready.”

Audry cocked his head back in disbelief. “Thanks.”

He moved into his bathroom, turned on the faucet and splashed water on his face. The man in the reflection looked sickly and exhausted. His hair was a mess and if anybody didn’t know he was a multimillionaire they’d think he was homeless.

Which was perfect.

“Hey, Quinn. Let me send a direct video message to the auditorium.”

“Mr. Hadden is already arranging plans for a—”

“Just do what I asked, please,” Audry demanded. “And turn the music down.”

He quickly searched his room for his robe. Quinn was not exactly understanding of Audry’s way of thinking but all the man needed was for Quinn to do what was told of him. Freewill programming aside.

“You’re not exactly looking your best sir. Are you sure?” Quinn asked.

Audry ran into the next room across the hall. “Relax. Pull me up a live feed at my desk.”

He sat down, preparing himself, fixing his hair slightly. The computer turned on, booting up to the lock screen. A holographic nebula was scattered across the ceiling, a little thing Audry implemented to feel more at home while at home.

“Dim the hologram. How’s my voice sound?”

“A bit slurred,” Quinn noted.

Audry cleared his throat and cracked his neck, loosening his shoulders.

He scooted over to fill one of the cardboard cups with his water dispenser.

“How about now?” he said, taking a few sips and adding more pristineness to his voice. “Here, let me test it out: Hi, nice to meet you ladies and gentlemen.”

“That should do, sir.”

“Alright, thanks. Make sure to remind me about making a call to my provider and to take my meds just as I’m finishing my speech.”

“Sir?”

“Don’t ‘sir’ me.”

Quinn sifted through the application on the computer, pulling up the camera. Within seconds he was contacted by the operation director, Hugh Conroy.

He would have rather jumped right into the live video but he’d first have to be scrutinized by Mr. Conroy for his ineptitude.

Rightfully so.

But when do the egotistical ever admit they are wrong?

The call rang with a small icon pulsating to the tone. Audry’s veins pulsed too. The stress was beginning to get to him.

In a moment of quick thinking he snorted the rest of the water in his cup. He coughed violently, cursing under his breath. Then the sneezes from nose irritation added the cherry on top.

That would do.

He answered and suddenly the old man appeared on the screen.

“Mr. Forge,” Mr. Conroy said. “The night is not going very well.”

Audry’s uncontrollable coughing carried on until he could hardly catch his breath. Meanwhile Mr. Conroy looked unsurprised on the other side.

“And I’m sorry. I should’ve told you beforehand but I’ve come down with the flu,” Audry replied, wiping his nose.

“Did you now?”

“I did. And Quinn has my medical records to prove it.”

“I don’t need to see your medical records. I’d rather you make up for spoiling the convention.”

“I’m going to message the crowd directly. Are they still there?”

“Of course they’re still here. Where else would they be going?”

“I don’t know. Home?”

“Don’t be a fool, Mr. Forge. I’m navigating you to the auditorium screen now.”

“Thank you,” Audry said, growling up phlegm in his throat.

“Don’t say anything irresponsible,” Mr. Conroy said.

The screen turned black.

In a few mere seconds Audry’s heart sank as he saw, in high definition, a crowded room where he should have been minutes ago.

Audry sniffled, hesitantly leaning up to his desk.

“Hello and good evening everyone? Looks like we ran into some technical issues when trying to start this message… I’m Audry Forge, developer behind the new Shibboleth mobile assault armor under Project Skorpio and founder of the Rion Accord. I regret to inform you that I’ve come down with a little bug. So, I’m houseridden for a few days until then. I’m sure many of you would have liked to speak with me face to face but due to these circumstances I’ll be on bedrest for another two days.”

A moment of silence passed. Audry realized he couldn’t do everything halfway. He had some convincing to do.

“Excuses aside. I’m not one to just let a little flu kick my ass,” he said a bit more passionately. “Nothing can stop me from reaching the goals that I hope to achieve. Most of you watching right now know that is my work ethic. I have been to hundreds of countries around the world. I have been off-world. I have worked in some of the most dangerous conditions and met some of the most dangerous people. But none of that stopped me.”

“I’m the son of a man who never backed down. If it’s one good quality I received from him, it’s my perseverance. My missions to Mars, the Moon and Jupiter’s moons have been a critical success because of this. The unification of resources and people I have managed to acclimate is by-far my greatest life achievement. I’m not here to brag and boast. I’m not perfect. But I am doing what no other person has ever done for the human race.”

“Together we will reach the stars. There is no need to find the heart of the universe. Because we are the heart of the universe.”

A chime echoed in his room. It was Quinn.

“Mr. Forge, I do not mean to interrupt you but you need to speak with Dr. Helem. Oh and my apologies sir but it’s almost time to take your medication as well.”

“Thank you, Quinn,” Audry replied.

“Ladies and gents, it was an honor speaking with you,” he said smiling and sniffling into the camera. “Once again I apologize for the technical difficulties. I look forward to showing you more. Thank you and good night. ”

Audry ended the call and let out a sigh of relief.

The call switched over to Mr. Conroy’s chat where he nodded in approval. Albeit still somehow slightly unapproving.

“Mr. Forge, how did you manage to get sick?” he asked.

Audry had begun to grow annoyed by Hugh Conroy’s sentiments towards him. Lying or not, the man would never give Audry the light of day.

“I’m a businessman Mr. Conroy. I come in contact with a lot of people. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a phone call to make.”

“Very well. And for the record—”

“Goodbye,” Aubry said, taking the privilege of ending the call himself.

The room was silent.

“And that, my dear Quinn, is how you fix something at the last second,” he said, kicking his feet up.

“How can you be sure they won’t be upset over you not appearing at the gathering?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t mind it,” Audry said. “You can never appease everyone in this business.”

Quinn pondered on it.

“That is some thoughtful judgement,” he said.

The nebula display above Audry blossomed into an array of systems and dead space in-between.

Audry closed out his desktop, trying to clear his mind. Another glass of burgundy wouldn't do so he made his way to the hallway.

“When did I program five hours as being a ‘few hours’ to you?”

“You didn’t sir,” Quinn said.

“Exactly. I’d never do something so stupid,” Audry laughed, opening up the elevator at the end of the hall.

“You have done some pretty questionable things before, Mr. Forge.”

“What do you mean by that?” Audry asked.

The white interior and darkness of it all felt void-like. The elevator door hissed, the lights glew dimly in patterns of warm colors.

“I’m not calling you dumb. But tonight was pretty witless of you.”

“Quinn… You just called me dumb with a different word.”

“I get my humor from my maker afterall.”

The ride down to the first floor was over in the blink of an eye.

Stepping out into the kaleidoscope of rooms and brutalist-retrofuture furnishings, he walked past the living room where he had once used it for familial purposes instead of partying and sleeping around.

The kitchen, connected with a long countertop paralleled by an island in the midst of the kitchen appliances, had liquor bottles and drug paraphernalia that he struggled to recall if he took any or not.

The TV mounted above the doorway before entering the dining room played an episode of Fresh Prince.

“Let’s play a game,” Audry said, making his way to the other side of the living room where the garden room resided. “You ask me a question and I ask you a question. You’re first.”

“Isn’t it hard being the center of the universe?” Quinn asked.

“It can be.”

“I was being sarcastic sir.”

“Remind me to program you better sarcasm,” he said, feeling fresh air hitting his face upon opening the door. UV light rods stretched up from the ground next to the small basins filled with plants, sediment, and flowery.

Audry stopped and took a breath in. “Any signals yet from the good ol’ great beyond?”

“Not quite yet, sir. It’s a bit of a Rare Earth situation, so I have come to the conclusion it will be some time, if at all, that we ever get a message,” Quinn said.

Audry took a stroll through his indoor garden, feeling the cool midsummer breeze flowing down from the atrium. He laughed at himself for screwing up one of his largest business ventures. He hoped he saved grace by pulling the sick card.

His business partners wouldn’t be happy about his absence. But the revival of the Forge exposition was underway to surprise the world by the end of the season.

“Sir, why haven’t you designed me a body?” Quinn asked.

“Well. You never asked and it wasn’t on my to-do list.”

“You could make me a little box with wheels or an elaborate holographic image or a full-fledged android.”

“Tell you what… You come up with the entire schematic and I’ll do it for you? Okay?”

“Not a problem, Mr. Forge,” Quinn replied. “By the way your excuse a moment ago was lackluster.”

“Remind me to program less call-outs.”

“Was it something I said?” the A.I. joked.

Audry ran his fingers gently along the rows of flowers. Something about the nature of something so elegant and eye-catching filled him with comfort.

“No. It’s fine,” he said, moving his attention away from the conversation.

It was a beautiful night.

Staring through the one-way glass revealed hills and lakes for miles on end. There was something about the outer country that made him feel most comfortable. Big city life was daunting.

The basin landmark a few hundred yards down in the valley, from which the indoor garden overlooked, managed to catch his eye just like it always had.

Every night the moon would reach a point in the sky where it’s reflection would ripple from the water’s surface. It was as if a small ball of light had fallen to Earth in the dark of night trying to hide itself only to give itself away.

He was like that little ball of light. He had nowhere to run. He had nowhere else to go. Despite his attempts, he always found himself back inside his own cycle of deprivation.

It was the life of man. Not the life that he was destined to have. He didn’t want to have faults. But there he was getting drunk every morning just to sleep it away in the evening. There he was bringing in a new girl every time he felt lonely. There he was contemplating ending his life at the smallest inconveniences. There he was. A little ball of light, dimming itself until one day there would be nothing left shining.

The moon equally casted white beams down through the atrium onto the flowers and plants below.

Orchids, lotus’s, and magnolias tinted the air of that side of the room. African daisies, chrysanthemums, and dahlias on the other.

Rich soil filled his lungs and the cooled cobblestone path felt natural beneath his feet. His grandfather had been a gardener and builder who enjoyed the simplicity of nature and all of it’s infinite possibilities.

“Quinn,” he said looking away from the basin.

“Sir?”

Audry sat down on the mahogany bench nearest the walkway rubbing his eyes, trying to figure things out without overthinking.

“I need to start being more responsible for my actions.”

Quinn laughed. “You’ve said that before though, sir. The last program I set up for you hardly seemed to work.”

Audry looked up half-smiling at the disembodied voice. “That was a psychiatric study you reapplied into an 8-step program, Quinn. That’s like making a cancer treatment plan with something you saw on WebMD.”

“I’m sorry. In those regards I could definitely perform better,” Quinn apologized, chuckling. “I’d say ‘I’m only human’, but I’m not.”

“So, yeah, the human condition doesn’t apply to you,” Audry replied. “Shit, it barely does for me at this point.”

Quinn chuckled to himself.

“Well Mr. Forge, after all, you’re hardly human either.”

Audry smiled. “Touché.”

“I’ll prepare you a bowl of cereal and a glass of Barolo, freshly opened?” Quinn offered.

Audry stood up, yawning and stretching. The living room couch was calling out to him.

“No thank you, man. I’m gonna get some sleep.”

A mediocre deep sleep and meditation track began playing over the unseen stereo throughout the home.

“I’ll see you in the morning Mr. Forge,” Quinn said, comforting his creator. “Sleep well.”