Daniel turned and
began shuffling out with the crowd. Somehow the security force was able to get
everyone in a single-file line heading out the doors, scanning them one by one.
As soon as Daniel set foot outside the outermost door, a short man in a greasy
hairpiece caught his arm.
“Mr. Daniel
Princeton?” he asked.
Daniel nodded,
wondering why, out of everyone else, he would be singled out, and they would
know his name.
“My name is
Curtis,” the man said, “If you would follow me, please, your bus is over this
way.” He scuttled off past the generic black shuttles, to a white one that was
the largest road-permissible vehicle that Daniel had ever seen.
Curtis approached
the door, and it opened automatically.
“Welcome, valued
workforce member,” a female mechanical
voice intoned.
Daniel ascended the
steps into the vehicle, and the driver turned to him and waved. Daniel glanced
at his nametag. “BRANDON,” it read, “Android.”
“Down this row
here,” Curtis was saying from behind him as the android turned back to the
steering wheel. “If I may—“ the greasy little man motioned and Daniel stood
against the partition as Curtis squeezed past him in the narrow passageway.
This was the strangest bus Daniel had ever been on, because the seats were more
like enclosed, private “cabins,” like on a train.
Curtis led him down
to about the midpoint of the bus, and pointed to a small plaque with the name
“BENEDICT” on it.
“Here is your
cabin, sir,” he stated, “and here is your nametag.” He handed Daniel a small
gold pin with the same name, “BENEDICT” engraved on it. Daniel held the pin
against his shirt, and it automatically fastened itself. The rim of the plaque
next to his door lit up green. Curtis nodded with satisfaction, but Daniel
shook his head in bewilderment.
“But my name is
not—“ he began to protest, but Curtis raised his stiffly-waxed eyebrows at him.
“And my name is not
Curtis,” he sighed with understanding. “It doesn’t matter; they have a certain
computer system for registering employees, and it only allows certain names to
be used. You work for Byblos, and your name is Benedict. Now,” he opened the
door to the compartment, “as long as you are within twelve inches of your
compartment, it will unlock automatically. Any further than that, and it locks,
and no one can get in. Food service and entertainment choices will appear as
soon as this door closes. You may make your selection and it will be served to
you via the chute directly in front of your seat.”
As Curtis spoke,
Daniel scooted into the small compartment and found it entirely occupied by a
large chair. He sat in it, and a seatbelt immediately snaked across his lap,
while the back of the seat slowly scooted upright until it supported his back.
“The seat responds
automatically to your body’s position,” Curtis explained, “It is fully
reclining, and there are blankets and pillows available in the recess to your
left, while electronic hand-held devices and attachments are in the recess to
your right.” Curtis nodded, satisfied that he had gotten through his spiel
without incident. “Enjoy your trip, Mr. Benedict!” He closed the door, and
immediately the room plunged into darkness. Seconds later, lights flickered
back on—but the appearance of the room seemed very different. No longer was he
sitting in a small chair in a tiny cabin. Now Daniel (now called Benedict)
found himself reclining in a plush armchair in what appeared to be a spacious
lounge. A waitress wearing a close-fitting blouse and pencil skirt approached
him with a tray in her hands.
“Welcome,
Benedict,” she said in the same voice that
had greeted him when he stepped off the bus, “Can I interest you in a
beverage?” She held up her tray in front of
him, and immediately a long list of every sort of beverage, alcoholic and not,
appeared on its surface. “Touch the screen to make your selection,” the female voice instructed, and Daniel suddenly
realized he was viewing a life-like projection. He stared in amazement; the
detail extended the full 360 degrees, and the only thing that felt out of place
was the fact that he could not leave his chair. He turned back to the
“waitress.” She was still holding the tray for him. Daniel leaned forward and scrolled
through the list. Nearly every beverage in existence… but all he wanted was
some simple refreshment. He tapped “Water” on the list, and the waitress asked,
“Will that be mineral, bottled, or iced?”
“Bottled,” Daniel
replied automatically aloud, but the waitress responded anyway. She walked out
of the room, and Daniel heard a chime ring right in front of him. He watched in
amusement as a second waitress appeared, bearing a bottle of water on a
tray—but when she extended it to offer the bottle to Daniel, he found that the
projection aligned with the chute, so that he was grabbing an actual bottle off
of the projected tray in the projected hands of a projected waitress.
As soon as he
received the water, the waitress immediately followed up with, “Would you
like some entertainment?”
Instantly, a
chorus-girl in a gaudy, revealing outfit appeared in front of Daniel, leaning
toward him with disturbingly convincing realism. “Want to play?” she crooned.
Daniel desperately
closed his eyes and waved his hand, as if to wipe away the image, “No!” he
cried frantically.
When he opened his
eyes again, the girl was gone and in her place a slot machine. The lights
flashed and the handle gleamed tantalizingly as a male voice questioned, “Want
to play?” in the same inviting tone as the
chorus-girl.
Daniel waved his
hand and declared, “No!” a second time, and the slot machine disappeared at his
command.
No sooner than it
had vanished did the waitress “return,” this time bearing a tray that flickered
through images of every food Daniel knew he craved.
“Would you care
for something to eat?” she asked.
Daniel knew how
much he wanted the food, but he also knew the dangers of gluttony, and giving
in to your cravings. He hurriedly chugged the bottle of water still in his
hand, grateful for the way it filled his belly, even just for the moment.
“Not right now,
thanks,” he replied to the projection.
The waitress did
not miss a beat.
“Can we interest
you in a TV or movie selection?” she
pressed.
Daniel considered
this request, knowing of only one video he would be interested to see, but the
“waitress” may be reluctant to provide.
“Can you show me
what’s passing outside?” he asked the waitress.
The projection of
the lounge flickered, and Daniel suddenly found himself sitting on apparently
nothing on the Victory Highway as East St. Louis sped past him. Quickly, he
turned his head, and the detail tracked with his field of vision. Looking
toward the northeast, he had barely time for one last glimpse of the Gateway
Arch before it disappeared over the horizon, blocked from his sight by so many
steel and brick buildings.
Daniel immediately
recalled how his entire life had been lived within sight of that arch. No
matter where he was, he could always orient himself with it. It was the one constant
landmark in his life—and now he was on his way to California. Who knew when or
if he’d ever see it again? Daniel’s heart lodged in his throat, and his eyes
began to burn.
“Turn the lights
on,” he choked out, and as his mind returned from the projected settings to the
reality of a tiny, enclosed cabin, traveling west to his new work location, the
words of Justin Mandalord, as expressed to the Executive Director, Mr. Kim,
came back to him.
The man had
stood in the atrium of Integra Communications, speaking loud enough for
everyone to hear,
“If you do not
follow the bylaws laid down by my forefathers, the company founders,” he
declared, “God has shown me that a king will arise from his castle of gold and
take this company away from you.”
Of course, no one
could have known then that he didn’t mean a real king, like a foreign
dignitary, or an actual castle—but a Mr. King, who “ruled” in the “Golden
State.”
Daniel lay back in
his seat and wept for his homeland.
<<<<<>>>>
Oh! I remember this one, Leslie. :D I especially liked the bit about the 'greasy hairpiece'...it conjured up images of the nastiest toupe. Its little touches like that that make your writing so, SO enjoyable.
ReplyDeleteI'm remembering now just how much I liked your ReBible series (it's honestly the best 'retelling attempt' [more than an attempt from your] that I've ever read and is certainly the most mature.) I would even go so far as to say that you remind me of Moffat and Gatiss with their Sherlock update. Like them you have kept the heart and soul of the story - all of the iconic moments referenced in some way - and yet you've found a way to make it fresh and new again.
This is amazing...don't EVER give it up!