I stepped off the plane and was immediately met by a burst of warm, tropical air and the smell of clean ocean water. I couldn't believe that I was finally here after all these months of preparation! But I had no time planned for relaxation on the island of St. Martin. I was here, at last, to finally uncover the truth about the elusive billionaire Rafael Gauthier. A quick trip to the hotel airport to drop off my bags--then I called a taxi to take me to Gauthier's private villa.

I was an investigative journalist working for Vice magazine. Rafael Gauthier was a billionaire "investor". Nobody seemed to know where he got the capital to start making investments in the first place. And unlike other billionaires who owned profitable companies or inherited their fortunes... Rafael Gauthier just bought, sold, deal-made, and traded his way to the top. He always seemed to be one step ahead of the market, always able to call in the favors he needed to avoid disaster. He was well-known for entertaining the rich and famous at this villa. Some whispered that he used the villa to collect blackmail on his guests--that's why they were so keen to help him whenever he needed it. Nobody could ever prove anything, of course, and that's why I was here--to figure out what was going on and expose whatever dark truths lay in Rafael Gauthier's sanctum.

The plan was my editor's. Obviously, an investigative journalist can't just ask a shady billionaire for an invitation to his private island. _But_, it turns out that I was just the "type" of William Jones, one of Gauthier's rich buddies. Fairly athletic, tomboyish but still feminine, with a slightly edgy alternative look that was tempered with maturity as I neared thirty... William jumped at the chance to meet me in a private location, and pulled strings to get me an invitation to Gauthier's estate. So here I was, getting dropped off at the entrance of Rafael Gauthier's mansion.

The front door didn't have a doorbell, but it had a fancy electronic keypad. I'd been emailed a code, so I punched it in. A little light turned green and I could hear magnetic locks whirring open, so I pushed the heavy front door open and stepped inside the mansion.

The entry was light and airy, with a high ceiling and a lot of windows. The floor was an elegant stone tile--attractive, easy to clean sand off of, and a great choice for a place that never got chilly. A waterfall fountain burbled in the background. A couple of elegant, slim televisions lay tucked in corners, silently playing slideshows of photogenic natural wonders. I looked around patiently for a few seconds, when I heard footsteps from above, then descending a staircase from the second floor to the entry.

Rafael Gauthier, standing before me, was an unconventional billionaire. Most of the rest I'd encountered--seen in passing, mostly--were one of two kinds: young tech-industry nerds who got rich but never really lost their hoodie-and-jeans style; or crusty old magnates, trying to cultivate an aristocratic air. Rafael was neither; he was young and handsome, not much over thirty; but he had clearly spent time and money investing in his appearance, which had a careful casual but was perfectly tailored to flatter his athletic body. His personal trainer wasn't letting him off easy. "Ms. Dewitte," he smiled at me, extending a hand to shake. "You must be William's friend."

I returned the handshake. "Just Janna, thanks. And yes, I am. We met at a party in New York last May, and he spoke highly of you. It's good to meet you." I gave the most sincerely friendly smile I could manage. Although I suspected some kind of sinister dealings here, my plan was to stay friendly and leverage my charm to put Rafael at ease and hopefully loosen his tongue.

Rafael's demeanor stayed calm, but his attention was focused on me, and I felt an intense sense of his presence. "William mentioned to me that you were a... writer? A journalist? For Vice?" Of course he had looked me up. I shrugged and nodded. "Ms. Dewitte... Janna... Other than the companionship of my friend William, and the lovely climate, what brings you out here?"

He wasn't going to buy an outright lie, of course. "Mr. Gautier--Rafael--the world wants to know more about you. They want to see how the rich and powerful live; they also want to know, frankly--" I shrugged again here-- "how you 'do it'. Some people think it's crime. Some you're a genius, some the luckiest man who ever lived."

Rafael thought to himself for a moment, then spoke to me, his voice deep and pointed. "Janna, would you like to understand the truth? About what I do?"

My heart quickened; I was startled by his suddenly intense demeanor, but this was exactly what I wanted. "Yes... I do," I responded with full sincerity.

"Well then," he responded, his voice lightening back to a normal tone, "let me show you what you need to understand." He pulled his phone from his pocket, fiddled with it for a moment, and a television in the corner powered on. "Watch this, and you'll be very close to understanding."

Agreeably, I watched the television screen. A test pattern displayed, along with some soft music. Then a gentle chime rang... and the screen leapt into life. A dizzying array of images and movements appeared...

A triangle, which split into three, then nine, then twenty-seven, then ever more that shrank and nonetheless filled the screen...

A satellite view of the earth...

An array of people, faces, smiling, neutral, frowning...

A pattern of static, of numbers I didn't understand...

My own face, somehow, just for a split second...

A sprout, growing into a sapling, then a tree, then being felled, all in a second...

And many more, more than I could possibly remember. The experience was disorienting, but there must have been hundreds or thousands of images and clips, each present for no more than a split second. Each on its own was familiar, but the pattern wasn't. I watched on, though, trying to figure out the connection behind this strange video clip. As more and more of them appeared, flooding my vision, I thought I was beginning to understand the connection. Rafael... understood. He understood how things were connected, how everything was connected, understood this in a way I couldn't, and that's how he made his fortune? That was my best guess.

I stared on. At some point, the images wound down: from their frenetic pace, to a countdown that started quickly 20-19-18-17 and was quite slow, one image a second, as it reached 3-2-1-0. The screen faded to black, and the music faded to silence--I had tuned it out, but the music must have been playing the whole time too.

Rafael turned and looked at me with an air of intense expectation, waiting for me to react. I did. "That's... really something," I ventured.

"Do you understand?" he asked--the deep, intense voice again.

I grimaced. "I'm... not sure I do."

He changed the subject again, his voice changing back to nonchalant. "Janna, you're going to tell me why you're _really_ here."

Struck by the unusual tone in his voice, I responded immediately. "I'm supposed to write an article about you. I'm supposed to figure out how you're making your fortune--what kind of wrongdoing you must be up to--and report about it." I stopped and blinked. What had made me so candid?

"Interesting. Not surprising, but interesting. You will tell me--what was the goal of this article going to be?"

"To get a lot of attention. Exposing big crimes would drive a lot of attention and traffic, and getting a reputation for delivering both tough-to-get reports and justice would be valuable prestige." I spoke the words matter-of-factly, still wondering why I was elucidating these ideas so clearly.

"And what crimes, out of curiosity, did you expect to uncover?" Rafael continued his intense questioning.

I shook my head. "That was one reason why it was worth coming. Could be anything. Blackmail, insider trading, bribing governments, maybe just wide-scale embezzlement."

"Hm. Your imagination is limited." Rafael looked thoughtful. "Janna, you will take off your shoes and follow me." Quickly, I slipped off my flats and laid them next to the door, then followed after him down a hallway. It felt a little odd to be running around a billionaire's house barefoot, but I was an invited guest, after all.

He took me around a corner to a study--bookshelves on the walls, a couple of chairs and a display case with various art curios. "Janna, you're going to give me your phone." I startled for a moment, then pulled it out and gave it to Rafael. Without even looking at it, he put it in his pocket next to his own phone. "Janna, do you understand how I do it now? Do you understand what the videos showed you?"

I felt weirdly naked without my phone, too much to think critically about his question. "No, I'm afraid I don't. What are you doing with my phone?"

"I'm keeping your phone, Janna. You won't need it any more. Do you want me to show you how I make my fortune?"

"Yes, please," I answered him, tentative but sincere.

"All right. You asked," he said. "Janna, you will hand me your shirt."

With only the slightest hesitation, I peeled off my thin T-shirt and handed it to Rafael. "Wait... what?"

He smiled as he looked at my exposed torso. "Do you understand now?"

I hesitated. "You... just told me to, and I did it. I didn't even think about it." I self-consciously covered myself with my arms.

"Now you see," Rafael patiently explained. "I help people understand the truth: that the human mind can be understood, and once understood, its patterns can be shaped. And your mind, Janna, has been shaped such that my words seem to come from your innermost self. By the way: this doesn't seem scary to you. It seems normal and harmless."

His statement caused me to reflect about what I had seen; the strange video with bizarre images, and then his words had started to sound... not forceful, just completely natural. Rafael had some kind of ability... whether technological or supernatural, I couldn't say... to change people's minds, to make them do exactly what he wanted. As my mind had been changed. "So you make your fortune by using this power on others," I said, the pieces falling into place. He nodded. "You convince them to "invest" in your ventures, or make some favorable deal, or share inside information, or whatever else you need them to do to make sure you get a payday." He nodded and gave a slight shrug to indicate that I had the right idea.

"So... what now?" I asked him. "I'm not one of your billionaire friends or rich investors. Did you go to all this trouble just for me to write a nice puff piece about you in Vice? Are you having me take off my clothes because we're going to have sex? ...Are you going to keep me here as your sex slave?"

At the last question, Rafael faintly scoffed, which hurt a little even through the strange way I was feeling. He looked up and down at my exposed body. "I'm a billionaire, Janna, I don't need a sex slave. You're pretty enough, but... not really my type." He shrugged. "But since you mentioned it, take off your bra and throw it in the trash there. Then follow me."

I caught my breath as I found myself obeying his order; I took off my black bra, exposing my bare breasts, then padded to a nearby trash can and threw it away. Rafael looked at me with a knowing smile that wasn't even a leer. He walked down a hallway, and I followed him. The room we entered looked like a home theater: no windows and a huge screen at the far end. Near the entrance was furniture and decor: couches and recliners for seating, end tables, and two marble statues of women. Both of the statues were kneeling, facing the screen. One was entirely nude, covering herself demurely. The other, remarkably, was dressed in a real skirt and top, like a mannequin.

"Do you like them?" Rafael asked.

I inspected the statues briefly. "Sure," I answered. "They're very detailed, lifelike. Like an audience for this theater."

"You realize I can't let you go back. Even if I tell you not to tell anyone, you might give someone too much information by mistake."

"So you're going to keep me as a prisoner here?"

"Not exactly. You'll understand soon enough. William will be a little disappointed, but he'll get over it. Janna, watch the screen."

Rafael tapped his phone, and the screen flickered to life. This time it was not a quick barrage of images, but just one cycling very slowly: a black-and-white spiral, turning slowly inward. Above it, a word faded in: RELAXED.

My worries about being stuck on the island drained away. I took a deep breath. I almost forgot about Rafael standing behind me, watching. All of my worries drained into the spiral on the screen. I stared at it for a while, not getting bored, just watching. After most of a minute, the word RELAXED faded out as the spiral continued to turn. I stood, waiting patiently at the screen. After some time, it showed another word, DOCILE.

I felt good about that. Here I was, barefoot and topless, following instructions perfectly. Following these instructions felt good. I stared at the screen, obeying, not at peace with my place in this theater. I thought I heard Rafael whispering "good girl" behind me, but I didn't turn around to watch. I kept staring at the screen.

DOCILE faded, and I felt a small twinge of regret, but then another word appeared, SUBMISSIVE. Understanding what the screen wanted me to do, I dropped to the floor and sat respectfully cross-legged, continuing to patiently gaze at the screen. I knew that my next instruction would come in time and everything would be clear.

After some minutes passed, the word DOCILE faded, and the spinning of the spiral slowed down until it was almost imperceptible. I waited, hesitantly but perfectly still, for the next word to appear on the screen, and then it did: PETRIFY.

A moment of confusion passed through my mind before it fell into the spiral. I didn't know how to petrify, not consciously, but I knew that I should.

I should become a statue like the other women in this theater. I didn't need to go home; I didn't need to go anywhere else, ever.

I should become a beautiful work of art, an object to be displayed in Rafael's beautiful mansion.

And so I sat, completely unmoving, and I let my mind still. I gazed on and on at the spiral until I could see nothing else, just the screen and the word PETRIFY filling my entire vision.

I had been, faintly, aware of my body, of my exposed breasts and bare feet, but now the awareness of those faded out too. There was no sensation of numbness--my mind was simply lost the spiral, lost in a place where my body did not matter.

I continued to stare straight ahead as I sat, completely motionless. The gentle hum of the ventilation faded to silence. The spiral stopped spinning, or slowed so much I could no longer perceive it. Finally even the word PETRIFY faded--or I could no longer see it--just the endless shape of a spiral, all around me.

Janna Dewitte now sits forever, just a barefoot, shirtless statue in Rafael Gauthier's mansion. Sitting cross-legged, the statue still wears the pants Janna had been wearing on the day she entered. In the end, Rafael did show Janna the truth. He helps people understand their destiny to serve him; and she serves as a beautiful pieces of art in his home.