Rudy Gobert stepped out of the taxi. He walked up to the familiar entrance of the Wells Fargo Center in Salt Lake City. Instead of entering the building, however, he stood to the side and pressed his face against the edifice of stone and steel.
It wasn’t as tall as some of his favorite skyscrapers, truth be told. He wished someday to visit the Burj Khalifa in Dubai, the tallest in the world, and many that he had seen during his NBA travails were much more majestic than this. But still, the Wells Fargo Center was more personal. More religious. It was HIS skyscraper, and he knew it would always hold a special place in his heart.
As office workers wandered about the plaza in front of the building, some glancing curiously at him, he muttered into the wall, his whole body now pressed firmly against the building, straight as an arrow. His arms stretched skyward, extending to the heavens just as the tower in front of him.
“Heavenseekers are we both, looking to the firmament with yearning.” He intoned, voice barely above a whisper. “Teach me your secrets, highest one. Show me the principles of tallness, the intricacies of verticality, the divinity of the acmic. This only your noble progeny asks.”
Rudy closed his eyes, and turned his head to the left, now listening. The noises of busy Salt Lake City droned about him, a cacophony of modern life, but he tuned all out except the sound of the construction before him. From deep inside, he could hear faint rumblings. These continued for a while, before fading away.
Gobert stepped away, eyes open, starting straight up. “Thank you, father.”