Prologue
THE ALPHA FACTORS
Prologue
April 1st, 2011 Seattle, Washington
For the casual observer from a considerable distance, the man standing in the middle of the busiest intersection in downtown Seattle appeared almost normal, if there is any such a condition as normal these days. It was only when you drew closer that the true spectacle emerged through the mist. A sighting to almost make you question your eyes.
It was raining, as usual, and quite chilly because of the blustery wind coming in from the West. At four p.m., the rush hour traffic was now starting to build toward the constant flow it would become as the hours ticked past.
The man, or should I say the damned fool, standing out in the cold rain holding a ragged cardboard sign was me, Norman Walker. At the ripe old age of thirty-five, I never imagined I would find myself in such an embarrassing predicament. Especially for a guy as shy as I am.
I was mentally kicking my own ass for ever agreeing to take on this final challenge. After successfully completing the first three, I should have just forfeited the money and bypassed this one. I could have saved myself a heap of anguish. Too soon old, too late smart.
I detest being the center of attention at the best of times, but here I was being scrutinized by a rapidly growing group of strangers. Some were on foot while others were in cars that slowed to a crawl when they spotted me. I was mortified.
I looked at my watch for the hundredth time, still dismayed that another two hours remained in my ordeal. My watch also showed me the delivery I was waiting for was almost half an hour late. If it didn’t arrive soon, it would be too late.
Three teenage girls were quite enjoying the spectacle, snapping selfies of themselves while trying to capture my image in the background of each picture. The flow of pedestrians bunched up as they ran into the blockade caused by the young ladies. As they stopped, many of the new gawkers were putting smartphone cameras into action as well. Despite the honking horns and the roar of the background noise created by the passing traffic, I could distinctly hear loud peals of laughter coming from the crowd.
In hindsight, I really couldn’t blame the crowd. I did, indeed, present an arresting spectacle. The pictures circulating many times over social media would show me a normally mature respectable businessman, standing in the rain holding a miniature poodle by a long trailing silver leash.
Not too unusual, you might say, except the soaking wet poodle had bright pink curly hair in the exact same shade as the pink hair on my head. To top it off, I was also wearing an adult diaper, silver army boots, and a fluorescent yellow T-shirt bearing a crimson website logo saying BEYOND/BOREDOM.
As I gave an embarrassed wave at a passing police car full of laughing officers, I couldn’t help wondering for the hundredth time how my current dilemma had come to pass. I knew in my heart it wasn’t rational, but it made me feel a little better to pick out a villain to blame for getting me into this ridiculous situation.
I thought back to how it all started with my innocent trip to a medical office and how everything transpired from my diagnosis one year ago. It didn’t take me long to decide that the responsible culprit was my best friend and personal physician, Doctor Ted Rogers.
The bastard.
