“Strippers?” One of them was saying. She was doing her best to sound mortified. “No way!”
“Oh, come on, Marion, Gilly!” another one urged her. “Only one night. It’s going to be fun!”
“Plus, all the guys up there will be gorgeous,” a third girl added. “You don’t have to tip them… unless you really like what you see! Who’s going to know?”
More giggling. Thankfully the elevator doors opened, and Barrow shouldered his way out of the crowd.
At street level the dry heat of the desert that surrounded the city of Aurora was much more apparent. Barrow walked quickly out past a fairly busy bus station and skirted the taxi lane as he crossed a big street, finally reaching the main pedestrian walkway leading to CradleCorp HQ. He had seen pictures, of course, but he had to admit, now that he was here in person, the entire place was impressive.
The walkway leading to the huge building was spacious and elegant. Cobblestones provided an uneven yet pleasant surface to walk on, a nice change from the perfectly featureless downtown sidewalks. Wrought iron lampposts lined it on either side, each one shining with a warm yellow light that cast a friendly sheen over the pathway. There were benches such as one would find in a park, as well as little unobtrusive stands for last-minute Otherlife session purchases if you hadn’t already booked them online. The trees growing on either side were not many, but interspersed among them were cacti, Joshua trees, and other plant specimens native to the Mojave Desert area. The overall effect was nice, wild yet controlled, like a miniature version of the extinct national parks. The landscape was styled in such a way that the eye was naturally drawn forward, along a ruler-straight walkway that led to the Cradle.
Barrow had no idea why it was called that, but the Cradle was the one building every citizen in Aurora could identify. It was a crescent-shaped structure that seemed to glow with the lights shining in its many different levels. It had to be at least five stories tall, but its height wasn’t what made it impressive—it was its size.
The more he approached it, the more Barrow revised his mental scale of the building. It had to be at least a kilometer long from tip to tip, almost an entire city in itself. The clusters of lights inside indicated human activity was concentrated near its center, with its wings mostly dark except for a few very bright regions. Nevertheless, the overall impression it made was staggering. It encompassed his entire field of view. When Barrow was close enough to see the main doors, he had to stop for a moment and just look around. It seemed hard to believe that such a magnificent, geometrically perfect building could exist in the middle of the desert surrounded by wastelands, but here it was. And thanks to it and the unique software treasure inside it, so was Aurora.
He made good time to the building, arriving right as the hour struck. He made a beeline for one of the many reception counters and was surprised at the lack of queues to get in. He had assumed that since Otherlife was so overwhelmingly popular it would be a maze of waiting and standing in line to get in, but he hadn’t counted on the size of the building. It was big enough for the hundreds of people who entered every hour to make their way without delays.
The woman at the reception desk looked up at him and smiled with perfect white teeth. The Otherlife logo, a golden
O
with four radial spikes inside it that didn’t quite reach to the center, was sewn onto the shirt of her flattering uniform.
“Welcome to CradleCorp. How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for the Security Department,” Barrow said in his deep, clear voice.
“Of course. You have an appointment by any chance?”
“Barrow. Steve. I’m here to see Armando Scholl.”
“One moment, Mr. Barrow. Let me see… ah, yes. He has instructed all new hires to meet him in room A-244.”
“How do I get there?”
“Let me just give you this access card. Do you have any form of personal ID with you?”
“Here’s my driver’s license.”
“Thank you. And… here you go. Now just go through that checkpoint on your right and take the first elevator you see to level
A
. That’s the first floor. From there, turn left until you find room 244. It will be on your right-hand side, clearly labeled.”
Barrow took the card. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. Enjoy your first visit to CradleCorp, Mr. Barrow.”
He didn’t even bother wondering how she knew he hadn’t been here before. They had probably downloaded his information the second he had come through the doors. She had been friendly enough, though, which was a nice change from the grumpy warehouse intermediaries Barrow had had to deal with in his previous job. He hoped the rest of the night would go as smoothly.
He left and followed her directions to the nearest elevator, then hit the button and stepped inside it when it came. He saw that the floors were labeled
G
, then
A
to
D
. He punched the button for floor
A
and waited patiently for the few seconds it took the machine to lift him up one level. The doors opened smoothly, and he stepped into a very long carpeted hallway that ran from left to right. Straight ahead, huge windows gave him a somewhat commanding view of the area above the reception, and farther ahead he could see the night sky over Aurora. He turned left and started looking for room 244. There were doors set at regular intervals on his right side as he walked, all of them even and starting at 2. Then came 4 and 6. He quickened his step, realizing it would be a long walk to 244, and checked his watch to see whether he still had time to make it. Well, he would probably be a few minutes late, but nothing too serious. He doubted everybody would be on time anyway.
Ten minutes later he was passing room 212, and he was beginning to understand how vast the building really was. He had been walking quickly, nonstop and passing door after door. The occasional windows that let him see inside the rooms were mostly dark, although many had been occupied from rooms 2 until around 98 or so. In that area, the hallway had widened and branched many times over on either side, leading to rooms that he quickly found were not what he was looking for. They were mostly labeled with letters instead of numbers, and the people inside coming and going had all been customers. Since it was a relatively busy time of night, some of the hallways had been packed. Barrow had had to squeeze himself between more people than he would have liked several times already, trying to find a way to get back to the main hallway. Eventually he had done it, with relief. The only problem was that he was now really late. He had since passed the busy areas of the building on this level, though, and he had only come across a few people going the other way for the last couple of minutes or so. He looked at his watch again. Well, no sense hurrying up now. He would just apologize and say he had gotten lost. If they kicked him out, fine. He didn’t really like this place anyway, or the entire Otherlife escapist philosophy. He was only here because he desperately needed money.
He made it, finally, and barged inside without knocking. He found himself in a very big room that looked nothing like what he had expected. He had been visualizing a conference room or something, with somebody in a suit lecturing them or maybe handing out information for them to memorize. Instead he was in what looked like the operations control center of a big airship. The walls on two sides were gigantic monitors partitioned into smaller areas that showed all kinds of different information. There were scattered work terminals in which people were seated, typing away, talking over the phone, or otherwise looking very busy. The place was set in three tiered levels, with the highest level being the one where Barrow was standing, directly outside the door. From his vantage point, he could see not only the terminals on the middle level but also what looked like a row of oddly lit chairs at the very back of the bottom level that had bizarre-looking helmets hanging above them. They were arranged in a semicircle, and several of the chairs were occupied, although more than half were still empty. A single chair faced the others, at the center of what would have been the circle the chairs were making. It had a bulkier setup than the others and looked more like a pilot’s seat than a normal seat.
The top level was empty aside from a row of lockers set against one of the dark walls. Lights hung from the ceiling, but they were dim, and most of the illumination came from the bright monitors of the screens set around the terminal operators. There was a single big open area behind the strange chairs at the very bottom, where some people were casually talking in groups of two or three. Aside from them, though, the atmosphere in the room was one of frantic activity. It was far from quiet, with the air full of voices, electronic sounds, and the occasional monotone computer message. Barrow was familiar with operations control centers from his previous job, but a quick look at the information displayed on the monitors showed him that he couldn’t understand any of it. It looked like they were monitoring stuff, and if he had to guess, he would have said they were probably keeping an eye on the users inside Otherlife’s network, but he wasn’t sure.
Barrow looked around, hoping to find the chief of security somewhere. There was no sign of Armando Scholl, though. Also, everybody was ignoring him.
With nothing better to do, Barrow descended to the lowest level where some scattered people were talking. He assumed those were the new hires, like him, and he was not mistaken.
“Hey,” Barrow asked the nearest one. “Are you here for training?”
The blonde woman nodded. She was dressed formally, for the induction they all assumed they would be having. “We all are. The security chief had an emergency to attend to. We’re waiting for him to return.”
The man with glasses next to her gestured to the chairs impatiently. “It’s been almost half an hour. I honestly have no idea what they are doing in there.”
Barrow followed the man’s gesture to the occupied chairs. He realized for the first time those chairs were connection terminals to Otherlife, very similar to the ones that customers would normally use. He had seen the commercials on TV often enough to recognize the helmets, only here they seemed either much older or a different type of build, without the smooth glossy finishes of the advertisements. Complicated arrays of cables sprouted from the back of the helmets and rose to a central node set on the ceiling of the room, each cable twisting and braiding itself with the others. The operators who were connected were all wearing the Security Department uniform too. And the man seated in the center had to be the Chief of Security.
As he was checking them out, the main operator chair made a powering-down noise. Barrow and the others stepped closer, and after a pause of a few seconds, Armando Scholl, Chief of Security in Otherlife, took off the helmet and opened his eyes.
He stood up stiffly from the chair, already surveying them with calculating brown eyes. He was scowling, his mouth set in a thin straight line, and Barrow was uncomfortably reminded of a prison warden’s appraising look as Scholl looked at each of them in turn. Aside from Barrow, there were five others. Barrow was the tallest of the lot, and at that moment standing out felt like a disadvantage.
Scholl cleared his throat.
“Evening, and welcome to Otherlife. My name’s Armando Scholl. For as long as you last in this job, I’ll be your boss. I already know all your names, so we won’t waste time making introductions. You don’t need to know each other to do your job well in here. Any questions before we begin?”
Barrow exchanged glances with the blonde woman, who appeared to be as confused as he was. Scholl was very direct, that much was obvious. Barrow found himself liking his style.
“If not, then get moving. Pick a chair, and meet me at Hub Node 01.”
They moved. Barrow picked the closest chair and sat down, pleasantly surprised to find out that it was a recliner and much more comfortable than his couch. He grabbed the helmet hanging a few centimeters above his head with both hands and pulled it down. This was the tricky part. He had to act like he knew exactly what he was doing even if he had never connected to Otherlife. He had lied in his résumé and in his interviews to get this job, and he wasn’t going to screw himself over by asking how to connect or what “Hub Node 01” was.
He watched Scholl on the command chair as the Chief lowered the helmet over his head and pressed something once he had it in place. The thing hid his entire upper face, leaving only his nose and mouth uncovered. The helmet came alive with light, and Scholl relaxed in his chair. Loud beeps to Barrow’s left and right signaled the successful connections of the others.
Well, it couldn’t be that difficult. He lowered the helmet fully and let it cover his head.
He couldn’t see with the thing on, and the heavy padding muffled sounds. He waited for the helmet to do something, but it didn’t cooperate. What had Scholl done? He had pressed something on the outside, hadn’t he? Seconds ticked by as he felt around the outside of the helmet, blindly looking for a button to press. One of his fingers finally found a tiny lever, and he flicked it. There was a buzzing noise but nothing more.
Dammit! Where is the on switch?
His left hand finally found three buttons set directly outside his temple. He pressed first one and nothing happened. The second one, same thing. The third one, and still nothing.
“Mr. Barrow,” a voice said. It was Scholl; Barrow could hear him through the padding on his helmet. He must have disconnected to talk to him physically again. “We are about to begin training. We’re late already, and considering you arrived nearly thirty minutes after the original meeting time, further delays because of you will not be tolerated. Connect now, or get the hell out of my command center.”
Fuck. He knows I was late. How the hell does this work?
Barrow hit all three buttons on the helmet at once in desperation, and to his great relief, the machine buzzed to life. There was a brief clicking sound and slightly increased pressure as the helmet molded itself to his head. Then came the electrodes. Barrow gritted his teeth. It was good that he did, because the pain the microscopic filaments inflicted as they drilled into his skull was surprising. It was also, thankfully, very brief. He established the connection without really being aware of it.