Even through the thick, double paned glass of the window that looked out over the Dallas cityscape, Tom could feel the intense Texas heat radiating down on his neck from behind. How he wished he had chosen to go with the classic executive chair when he was picking out furniture for his office. The tall leather back would have protected him from the warm sunlight. Instead, partially due to the Fountain Place tower’s air conditioning in the middle of a retrofitting upgrade, the thirty-two year-old was forced to sit uncomfortably and sweat in a minimalist drafting chair, hunched over the angled drawing table that served as his preferred desk.

Despite the adverse temperature, Dr. Thomas Virgil continued with his work. With steady hands, he penciled a line along the flat edge of a ruler to complete the overlay of one of the many walls that made up the interior of an ancient, complex temple in what used to be the territory of the ancient Achaemenid Empire. Over the last few years, Tom had been overseeing multiple dig site projects in Western Asia, unearthing long-forgotten secrets of a nation that overshadowed even the famous Roman Empire. His due diligence throughout the beginning of his ripening career as a cultural anthropologist – who mainly enjoyed the gritty fieldwork of archaeology – was finally coming to fruition.

Since attaining his Ph.D. in cultural anthropology, Tom had been solely focused on highlighting the more sublime cross-overs of lost cultures and schools of thought; emphasizing the evolution of both human governance and religion. He had travelled the world in search of similar paradigms and recognizable symbols that linked one culture to a potential predecessor. Most of this work was already done by anthropologists that had long walked this road before him, but Dr. Virgil’s main focus was on the paradoxical root of human society; the ever elusive beginning of it all. Certainly a daunting task, even for the wisest philosopher.

A knock at the door to his office disturbed his amateur architectural work and the doctor flicked his light-blue eyes up to see a man wearing a charcoal black suit with a satin-grey tie standing in the threshold of the door. A faint sparkle announced the presence of a pin presented neatly on his left jacket lapel. Virgil wasn’t able to make it out clearly, however. The stranger’s knuckles rested gently on the metallic frame and he wore a casual smirk that suggested he had found the person he appeared to be seeking.

“Yes? Can I help you?” Tom asked, slightly lowering his pencil out of curiosity.

A younger man’s voice called out from behind and Virgil could hear the clomping soles of his secretary marching over from his desk outside. The face of a youthful college graduate peeked around from behind the stranger and he exclaimed, “Doctor V., I’m so sorry; he wouldn’t listen to me!”

“That’s quite alright, Zen,” Tom insisted. “Is there something we can do for you, sir?”

The man lowered his hand and slid it easily inside the pocket of his trousers, lifting the bottom of his jacket in folds. Stepping further into Tom’s office, the stranger introduced himself, saying, “I apologize for interrupting your work, Doctor Virgil. My name is Clarence Gates. I’m a headhunter for-”

The man needn’t continue. Now that Mr. Gates was further inside, Tom could make out the lapel pin. The “A” logo of the renowned private corporation was unmistakable, with the curving center bar that represented a gradual approach to that highest point of a curve that the company’s very name preaches.

“-Apex Corp,” Tom said, finishing the man’s sentence.

“Quite right,” Mr. Gates enthusiastically replied. “Do you have a minute to talk, sir?”

“I’m afraid I’m not interested.”

The man seemed taken off guard for a moment before reinforcing his smile and asking, “I’m sorry?”

“You said you’re a headhunter,” Virgil reminded him. “Apex is the world’s leading technological research organization that has surpassed even the most notable international firms of its kind; mostly due in part to your selective recruiting of intellectual and creative prodigies from around the world. Even CERN can’t hold a candle to what Apex is capable of. Now, you’re here for either one of two reasons; either Apex is suddenly interested in Mesopotamian archaeology and would like to hire my team, or you’ve mistakenly come to think that I am a possessor of prodigal talent. The latter is most certainly untrue, as I won’t discredit Apex’s ability to correctly research someone’s background for even a second, given their vast wealth of information resources, and I’m hardly interesting enough to hire; which leaves us with the former – an offer that I must respectfully decline.”

The gentleman seemed unfazed by Tom’s water-downed description of his employers. “You read me like a brochure,” he said. “But you’re wrong on both counts.”

There was a momentary pause between the two men before Tom set down his pencil and ruler and called out, “Zen! Can I get two cups of coffee?” Standing up from his seat, Tom ran a hand through his wealth of wavy, brown hair and walked over to the center of the large office, where he gestured for Mr. Gates to take a seat on one of the black leather sofas.

“Alright,” the doctor said, “I suppose I can spare a few minutes of my time.”

“A few minutes is all I need.” Gates unbuttoned his jacket and sat down across from Virgil, leaning forward with his elbows supported on his knees. “First, if you don’t believe yourself to be someone ‘interesting enough’ for us to hire, then you’re sorely mistaken. Apex doesn’t exclusively look for prodigies; we look for all kinds of people. Experienced or inexperienced, rough or refined, supporters of corporations or not…”

“Like I said, you people are well-informed.”

Zen came back into the office and set down two mugs of freshly poured, warm coffee left black and several packets of sugar and powdered creamer between them. The young man then quietly returned to his clerical duties.

Tearing open one of the sugar packets and dumping the contents over the drink, Gates said, “Yes, I’m keenly aware of your anti-corporate sentiments, doc. During your college years, you had co-sponsored an occupy movement against Seris Enterprises for launching an unquestionably distasteful fashion line of ancient Egyptian clothing that mocked a longtime, academically respected culture.”

“That’s only one of the two reasons,” Tom said, stirring the creamer he had placed in his own coffee. “The other, and more important one, was that Seris’ CEO was fully aware that her company was engaging in illicit overseas labor practices and did nothing to correct that issue. Seris’ ‘Ancient Egypt’ brand line was unarguably a direct product of those practices.”

The two of them shared another moment of silence as they simultaneously sipped their beverages. Mr. Gates was the first to finish his gulp and speak. “Your distrust of major companies like us is absolutely warranted, doctor; but I’m not here to argue free market theory with you. As I said, and as you reminded me, I’m a headhunter; and we are interested in Mesopotamian archaeology; or rather… a team of archaeologists that specializes in Mesopotamian cultures.”

“I must admit that I find that to be somewhat strange, Mr. Gates. As a company that throws caution to the wind with technological innovation and, what you people have taken to calling, ‘self-controlled human evolution’; studying the past doesn’t seem like something that would fit in Apex’s portfolio.”

Gates took another, longer sip of his coffee before returning the mug to the table between them. With a sly smile that made Tom raise a brow, the man said in codified language, “We actually won’t be studying the past; but rather, the present. Another present, anyway.” Reaching a hand inside his inner jacket pocket, Gate’s revealed a grey business card with a black Apex “A” logo embellished on the front. He placed the card on the coffee table and slid it across the way toward Tom. “Give him a call if you’re interested in learning about the details. I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss this further.”

Confused, Tom opened his mouth to speak, but Gates was already up on his feet and moving toward the door to his office. “Thanks for your time, doc,” he said in a nonchalant tone, buttoning his jacket as he walked. “I’m sure I’ll see you again in the very near future.”

Virgil remained where he was on his sofa after the man disappeared, with a baffled expression on his face. A second later, Zen poked his head inside the office with a quizzical look and simply asked, “Sir? What was all that about?”

Tom leaned forward and slid the mysterious business card closer before flipping it up and taking it in his hand. The front side only bore the Apex logo, with a popping embellishment pushed through the stiff paper. He flipped the card around in his fingers and saw a single telephone number, followed by a two letter abbreviation beneath it.

i.e.

“Id est?” Tom asked aloud. “No… those are initials.”

Zen was now walking fully into the office and made his way toward the mugs on the coffee table to begin retrieving them. “Initials, sir?” he inquired, still curious as to what was going on.

“The initials of Time Magazine’s ‘2021 Person of the Year’,” Tom answered. “Apex’s founder and CEO…”