Hundreds of eyes are dark. All but one, this glowing island in the the black blind sea. And it’s also glass and metal and fields of desks. We sit here in the office, after hours, listening to the messiah of the new world.
“This,” this man, Adam Neumann, says wearing a headset mic, holding up a piece of paper, “this and this alone, has the power to save people. For once a thing is written, it truly lives.”
The rest of the people that work here during the day have gone home long ago. But we have been invited into the inner circle. WeWork at night is so much more than shared-space offices. It’s a way of life.
Maybe you haven’t noticed it yet, Falun Gong seeping into New York—they are pretty good at crisping their message with fried batter so it goes down like normal everyday junk. But be cautious. Shen Yun is not just a dazzling display of dance and color and tradition. No. They are the sugar coating on the pill of the Falun Gong cult. And it, fried and battered and sugared, tastes good.
WeWork is their new way in. Here, their ideas can be hooked through many cheeks. Cheeks of start ups and entrepreneurs and people who build the future. Sustainable cheeks. Innovative ones. Cheeks ten feet high. Butt cheeks. Beef cheeks. Slow-cooked. Baked in. And when Falun Gong gets in on the ground floor this way—here on the twenty-third floor of their DUMBO high-rise—America grows the Falun Gong way.
Sure, on paper, WeWork is a landlord. They lease buildings. But that’s what piqued my journalistic interest. Most of their leases are for ten years, so I’m here tonight to see what the plan is. To find out what’s happening when the leases are up.
Sitting in his office now, Adam is stroking the head of a Doberman sitting next to him. The Doberman has one gold fang. Above us hangs the skeleton of a Giraffe.
“A replica,” he says noticing me staring. “I find you can only really understand something by looking at its bones.”
“Sure,” I say.
“So, you came here to learn our big plan, right?” He smiles like it’s all a big game, just like when he’s on TV. He draws a circle in the air. “The big jumbo plan for America.”
“Well, yea.”
“And you said you’re with the New York Times? This will be front page?”
I nod.
“OK, great. Well, it’s an ambitious idea. It all hinges on total vertical integration of all industries and sectors. First, we…”
He keeps explaining, droning on like he’s talking into a tape recorder, but I’m not taking notes. I can’t take my eyes off the replica giraffe skeleton. I study the curves of the massive ribcage and the jagged stars of vertebrae that wind towards the little head. Just what the hell do bones really say about a creature?
In my mind, I picture a map. The US map with the skin ripped away. Bones. I see them. There’s spine and skull and coccyx all twisted up. There’s a pelvis like a dinner plate. Cities are there sitting on the plate, chattering. They sound weak and hungry. They need meat for warmth. Millions of teeth are waiting for anything to come along and let them chew.
I smile, thinking about crowds of people in matching yellow shirts performing qigong exercises as the cult demands. They have blank eyes and are smiling. They are finally full. I know that WeWork’s IPO has just been pushed back and people all say they are finished. But that won’t be the case. I think here, in this country, people are ready for anything.
(Be on the lookout for Part Two in coming weeks)
