The cultist's cycle leads them through Beverly Hills, to the most expensive estates in the area--a curious aquisition for a Wozniak; the cult was known for investing heavily in products that would get no funding otherwise, many of which failed disastrously afterward. However, as the cultist pulled in the drive, deactivated his cycle, and walked into the house, a conversation made it apparent why he could afford such luxury.
"Listen, man, I'm tryin' to meditate here--"
"I'm sorry, but I've brought two individuals in pursuit of innovation an knowledge!" The glee with which the cultist said this bordered on criminal.
"Innovation can come later, creativity benefeits from a calm mind--"
"Out of the question. If Big Business gets their hands on this lost secret first, it could spell disaster for inspired inventors everywhere!"
"I--but--you're really messing with my Zen thing, man!"
"I'm sorry, Jeff, but I really must insist."
The other man sighs and walks to the door. It wasn't obvious from appearance--the man wore a stylish lab-coat-like robe and suit pants that covered all but his head and his hands--but something about the way he moved indicated that he was almost completely synthetic. His gray beard and hair indicated age, but he moved with the grace of a man in his 20s or 30s, while his blue eyes shined with an almost unnatural intensity, though you get the impression that this might be one part that's mostly original. His hairstyle, a variant of mullet that hadn't been popular for over a century, was the clearest overt indication that the man had been preserved far, far beyond his time. He ushers the others inside, and you notice that his lab-robe has glowing circuitboard-like lines running through it, in a surprisingly tasteful pattern. Clearly, the man is only tangentally associated with the digital cults, as he posesses much better taste. The man moves to a holographic fire pit, which was currently producing a bluish-aqua flame with wisps of purple ashes, and sits down one an immaculate white couch, one of five in the room; together with the coffee table and the antique plasma screen, both of which were a similarly bright white, the furniture was arranged like an ancient digital rendering of the number 8 on the earliest digital clocks, with the fire pit sitting in the center of the bottom portion and the table and television forming the middle and top "rungs". The furniture, which would have been austere in another situation, makes an elegant and comforting complement with the dark stone floors and dull, metallic titanium gray walls. A line of hidden LEDs ringing the recessed ceiling reflected the colors of the "fire" in the fire pit, which, upon closer inspection, also appeared to project weather, news, and other updates onto the ceiling. The cultist you met earlier was already seated nearby the television, and nodded his head politely before his friend started speaking again. "Well, welcome to my pad, fellas. My friend here seems to think your project is of some importance, so...let me have it. What are you folks working on?" Both men leaned forward eagerly and intently for Matt's response.
EDIT: I've just been authorized to award up to one-quarter Internet to whomever figures out who this new guy is.
