+++

Jemba was half right.

The Choose Your Mission Centre was adjacent to the Enrolment Centre, but it was also on the floor above it. And the floors behind it too. In fact, if there weren’t two separate signs, it would probably be mistaken for the same place.

The reason for such a vast space and weirdly erratic use of resources was, from the lips of Jemba, to tightly contain all activities related to or informed by the missions.

It wasn’t clear what exactly that meant, or how extensive such activities were, but both Trig and Salvo accepted it without follow-up. Mainly because they were distracted by the “seats” sticking out of the waiting area on the upper floor.

‘You can just lean on it?’ asked Salvo, prodding the green particles that had come out from the pole nearby.

‘Lean on it, reform it into a human chair, a bench, a table, a curved pod, anything to help you feel comfortable.’

‘But there’s nothing there.’

‘Same technology as the other Ground Floor premises. The seat in the Enrolment Centre yesterday…remember that? After the pod-spiel? Same thing. Only this one doesn’t know off-the-bat that you’re Earthlings.’

Salvo repeated ‘Earthlings’ under her breath then looked at Trig. Not an ordinary look, more of a plea that said, ‘you first, I’ll follow.’

Trig took the last dregs of his Kontolian Coffee and acquiesced [not that he had been particularly opposed to the idea]. Tilting his whole body backwards at an initial fifteen degree slant, he waited for the first sensation of resistance from the air behind him. Then, satisfied that it was sufficient to hold his full weight, he let go of the hand-brake.

Just as Jemba promised, no hilarious floor drop.

‘Wah, feels like little sponge knuckles prodding me.’

After watching Trig survive for more than thirty seconds without breaking anything or shrieking out in agony, Salvo went a quarter of the way round the pole to another batch of green particles, and leaned back, no restraint, full trust. There was a little push back as her acceleration was so sudden, but not enough to fling her out of the particle net.

‘Okay, now that we’ve learned to paddle,’ said Jemba with a little smirk, ‘listen out for your names. They may be mispronounced.’

‘What about you?’

‘I’ll be listening too, but sometimes I drift off mentally. The vagaries of holographic life.’

Salvo pointed to a vacant area of the pole. ‘Why don’t you try leaning?’

‘Hologram.’

‘You mean you never feel tired?’

‘Physically, no.’

‘Do you feel-…I mean, are you capable of feeling relaxed?’

‘Pleasure is idiosyncratic. Based on nostalgia and cognitive attachments. I can eat food and enjoy the process, I can have sex and not feel bored, but there would be no physical sensation of fulfilment.’

‘Do you have a digestive system?’

Jemba fluttered his fingers then stretched them out one by one. ‘This is not helping us. Focus on listening for your names. And don’t fall asleep while leaning.’

Trig heard the last words and realised his eyelids were started to slide shut. Pushing himself forward a little, he quickly thought of a question, any question, to keep his mind ticking.

‘How long is this mission choosing going to take?’

‘The part in here, not long. A few minutes.’

‘There’s more than one part?’

‘I’ll leave that to your advisor.’

‘Who?’

‘The alien who calls your name.’

Jemba didn’t fold his arms or look away, but his curt answers were sign enough to know this line of questioning was a dead end. Trig looked round at the other poles, with various types of aliens leaning, hovering or hanging sideways next to them. ‘Are all these aliens newbies like us?’

‘No, no…of course not. That level of recruitment would be insane. These ones are here for their next missions…third, fourth, seventh-’

‘They can’t choose the same portal each time?’

‘Yes, but they still have to record it officially. And it’s very rare.’

‘Why?’

The tannoy system kicked in, producing a series of electronic beeps before a rough voice croaked out ‘Trick’ and ‘Saddo.’

‘You’re up,’ said Jemba, pulling them both by their arms and pushing them towards an elevated platform with a Kontolian perched on top. ‘I’ll wait at the entrance.’

Moving as if traipsing through weeds, Trig and Salvo took a wide curve around the other waiting aliens, the veterans, and eventually made it up the mini-slope [not steps] to the elevated platform.

The Kontolian was either busy reading their pad or pretending to be busy reading their pad, it was hard to say which, but when they stopped next to the boomerang shaped desk [attached to the wall, no legs], they raised their head and smiled to the left of their mouth.

‘Nei Ho Muh,’ the Kontolian said, their voice marginally smoother than the one on the tannoy.

‘Sorry?’ said Trig.

‘Nei Ho Muh. It is how are you in your language. If not false?’

‘Oh, lei ho.’ Trig looked at Salvo, who was trying to sneak a look at the Kontolian’s pad on the desk. ‘I thought you were speaking Kontolian.’

‘Ah, this comes in as logic predicament. You assume inside a different language, so your brain omits the data-patch it would normally process. If you know?’

‘We know. I think.’

‘Good. My name is Luugi and I take the role of your advisor.’ The Kontolian noticed Salvo craning her neck towards their desk, and pulled the pad closer to their body. ‘It’s good to see that you have lost the distance from last night.’

‘Distance?’

‘Ukh. False way. Let me try twice. You look like you, Saddo, push out more comfortable on the station today, in contrast with last night at Yum La.’

‘You were there?’ asked Salvo, giving up on her pad pursuit.

‘I observed you, a pair, sitting at the table. I believe you, Saddo, observed me also, though perhaps you cannot distinguish-out two of the same sort.’

The name Luugi repeated itself in Trig’s brain, finally sparking a lightbulb. ‘Were you the Kontolian at the bar? I mean, the counter…where the drinks are kept.’

‘That is clear. I admit, observing the Nabian bother you, Saddo, with sexual overtones worried me partially, but it looks like you…Saddo…have absorbed the experience.’

‘I suppose so…’

‘Good. Full shape.’ Luugi tilted their body to the left and turned to the wall, where a projection lit up. ‘Now, it comes in the moment to introduce the portals available to you, a pair.’

‘Metta Yat,’ said Salvo, ignoring the projection.

Luugi turned back round, their vertical eyes lengthening by at least 2cm. ‘You have read about the portals already?’

‘We don’t care about the others, we want to go to Metta Yat.’

‘Metza Yat,’ corrected Trig.

‘He knows what I mean.’

Luugi stared at them for a while, until their eyes returned to normal size. ‘First case, I am presented as Luugi or Sek. I believe in your language that translates into they. Second case, I do understand your meaning. Third case, which is related to the second, in the role of advisor, it is my task to make you, a pair, aware of the current status of all portals, as well as all other data-sea. In this way, you can make a safe choice.’

‘Is Metza Yat not a safe choice?’ asked Trig, looking at the projection on the wall and seeing a futuristic-looking chain of structures dotted along a mountainside with the word KUUM poking out at the top.

‘By current data-catch, it places at number three out of five for humans.’

‘But Jemba…our hologram said it was safe.’

‘Yes, I observed him before, near you…a pair. Apology. My language uses qualifier words for you, but perhaps I over utilize.’

Trig frowned internally at the phrase qualifier words, getting a flashback to English grammar lessons, and quickly returned to topic. ‘Is Jemba wrong? About the safety thing?’

‘He is not false, but it is a relative issue. Metza Yat alters between number two and three due to potential volatility. It is not a simple thing to explain, but…there is a phrase we know…never build a hotel in the Kuh Kak System.’

Trig and Salvo both stared back blankly at them.

‘Ukh. False idiom. Try this way instead. The social system on Metza Yat is permanently existing on the brink of anarchy. Day to day life, it is safe, perhaps the safest from the crime aspect, but there is always the danger that it will break. By current data-catch, for example, it comes in as six per cent closer to breaking than usual. Therefore, I cannot advise this portal as the number one choice.’

‘You don’t understand,’ said Salvo, leaning forward and putting her elbows awkwardly on the desk. ‘We have a friend there.’

‘Ah, noted. Emma Goldman.’

‘You know already?’

‘I have read the record. However, I did not factor that into my advice due to memory patch considerations.’

‘Yeah, we know he won’t recognise us, but we don’t care. We just want to be in the same place.’

Luugi put their hands against their elbows, possibly the Kontolian way to express deep thought. After what seemed like an hour, but was probably closer to three minutes, they returned their hands to the desk and the promotional projections on the wall disappeared.

‘It is accepted,’ they said, rising to their feet. ‘For the next week, you, a pair, will tentatively prepare for a mission on Metza Yat.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You won’t regret it,’ added Salvo, holding out her hand to shake Luugi’s then retracting when she saw the black flecks on their lava red skin.

‘It is not final yet. If the volatility level increases, you will be advised to change to another portal. In this case, probably Kuum. However, for now, the code for the Metza Yat data-patch will be added to your pads. Research will be expected and tested on.’

‘Definitely,’ said Trig, standing up.

‘What kind of test?’ asked Salvo, too softly to be picked up on.

‘Please, follow me across the floor to the Induction Pods. There will be a one hour documentary on the history of Metza Yat to ground you. After that, you will reunite with your hologram and proceed to Book Sam.’

‘Wait…we have to go in those pods again?’ Salvo asked, pulling at one of her fingers.

‘Yes.’

‘Right now?’

Luugi stopped, putting one hand on top of the other. ‘You, Saddo, are frightened of enclosed spaces?’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s just…we did the pod thing yesterday. And, to be honest, I’ve forgotten most of it already.’

‘It was a lot of information to take in,’ added Trig, on the brink of winking of Salvo, but pulling out at the last second and just blinking instead.

‘Maybe if you give us a few days to get used to…this place first. Memorise some of the alien names.’

Luugi put three fingertips to the centre of their forehead. ‘Do not worry if you cannot remember all things. It is more of an introduction.’

‘To Metta Yat?’

‘Metza Yat.’

‘Sorry, Metza Yat.’

Luugi abandoned their forehead and relocated the hand to Salvo’s shoulder, making her stiffen up reflexively despite her brain screaming at her not to. ‘It is okay. The name of your portal will not be tested on.’

‘Does that apply to all names?’

An abrupt, deep coughing noise came out from Luugi, as their eyes widened a tiny bit. ‘You, Saddo, are a good addition to the station. I believe.’

‘Salvo.’

‘Ukh. Apology. Saldo.’

‘Close enough.’

+++

The word documentary had seemed like a strange one for Luugi to use, but after getting into two pods similar to the ones from the Induction Presentation and almost falling asleep from the warm air blowing like a koala’s lullaby against their necks, the tannoy voice repeated the same thing.

‘The Documentary will now begin.’

Maybe it’s a poor translation, thought Trig, bracing himself for scenes of talking heads juxtaposed with people walking by plastic-bag-filled rivers, looking miserable.

Maybe it’s not that long, thought Salvo, stretching her eyes open then closing them again when a stronger current of warm air hit.

‘Enjoy and Learn.’

The lights dimmed, an electronic beep started up then…

METZA YAT

The title barged in out of nothing and nowhere, lit up almost like a threat in the blank space ahead of them.

‘Fuck,’ came from inside both pods.

‘Is this horror?’ added Salvo to no-one.

The title responded by adding a subtitle: an island haven of opportunity and freedom.

‘Ironic horror?’

A soft voice different from the main tannoy read the text out loud, lightening the shock a little and returning their heart beats to a nothing much on TV, might have a nap pace.

Then the fear dissipated completely as a montage played out: aerial shots of an island chain, futuristic buildings, tropical beaches, dominant sunshine. A space elevator vanishing into pale pink clouds. Space stations shaped like crabs. Astronauts skipping across the surface of other planets…

This continued on for at least fifteen minutes, and gave both Trig and Salvo the distinct impression that they were being sold something. Thailand in the year 2257, perhaps. Or Hong Kong minus all the annoying elderly people.

If it weren’t for the warm air slowly putting them to sleep, they might have felt more responsive, excited even, at least in the first five minutes, but then it went on and on and on and…there was only so many snaps of paradise one brain could take before the word artificial took over.

Finally, the voice returned, dishing out some primary school level history on Metza Yat’s split from the Terzo Collective [a century ago], the development of their colony, the lack of horror involved [mostly due to the planet lacking land and being devoid of sentient life].

Then back to the catalogue shots.

Dozens of them.

Mostly humanoids eating brunch on terrace cafes, with a gigantic, triple-pieced bridge in the background.

‘That must be the money shot,’ said Trig, turning to the pod on his right.

‘Can’t take much more,’ mumbled Salvo, pinching the skin of her forearm to stay awake.

The shots continued.

Sucking up all meaning.

Mutating signs and signifiers.

Making beaches hateable.

Bridges Nietzschean.

Were those really humanoids smiling or smiles humanoiding?

Was this pod god?

God-pod?

‘Life is glamorous on Metza Yat…’ interrupted a new, much more jagged voice, ‘…for some. But for the majority, and for you…’

The voice faded out without completing the line, the previous bridge shot replaced by a zoom in on one particular, industrial-looking building surrounded by numerous others of the same type.

The pod lights dimmed, the filter on screen draining almost all colour:

A woman appeared, visibly tired, rising from her bunk, getting blue-scanned instead of showered, putting on her uniform then heading out of her sixteen bunk dorm and taking the tube over to the factory.

In this stadium-sized behemoth, the technology stood borderline unrecognisable, and it wasn’t clear exactly what work was being done…at one point, it looked like they were making remote controls…but then more parts were added and it looked different again.

Break time. All workers shuffled through a two minute scan that tricked their bodies and brains into experiencing thirty minutes.

Then back to work.

Lunch ran, basically, as a production line. First room, toilets. Second room, canteen with pre-ordered, timed eating sessions. Third room, more toilets.

Then back to work.

At various points, the action switched to other workers in other industries, most of it factory work, and all the time hundreds of names were being used for places, people, networks etc.

To this part of the show, as with the others, the only apt response was intense drowsiness.

‘One more time to solidify, do not worry if you remember nothing,’ the Kontolian had told them as the pod doors were sealing shut.

It was a reassurance that Salvo was grateful for and, as her eyes finally started to close during the weekend section of the documentary, she muttered, ‘I won’t let you down, Luigi.’

+++

After the documentary was complete and the Earthling pair were escorted back out through the waiting room, Luugi asked, with finger on forehead, if they’d changed their mind.

‘No,’ said Salvo, without pause.

‘You, a pair, don’t feel put off by the grind of the factory work?’

‘Not really.’

Luugi’s eyes lengthened again, which at this point could be speculated to mean they were surprised. That’s what Trig was going with anyway.

‘Actually,’ he said, dodging slightly as a Canni Tut rolled out from their pole and into his path, shouting something about endless bureaucracy. ‘It seems a bit like Hong Kong. The Kwun Tong area. Or one of the factories in Shenzhen maybe.’

‘I do not recognise this,’ said Luugi in their typical odd phrasing.

‘It’s true,’ said Salvo, looking back at the Canni Tut, a fist forming. ‘The work standard seems similar. Though, to be honest, I fell asleep in the second half of the video.’

‘Your planet also has this kind of work environment?’

‘Half of it.’

‘And your city?’

‘About a quarter. But it’s structured differently.’

‘That is a substantial amount.’

‘It’s not that bad,’ said Trig, following Luugi as he turned left and headed down a mild slops towards the entrance. ‘There are some protections. Kind of. But…I don’t know. It is still pretty bad. Grab the pitchforks bad if you ask Cav. Sorry, Emma Goldman.’

‘I am confused.’

‘The labour laws we have…some of them…or most of them, probably.’ Trig stopped on the slope and looked left at the main floor, accidentally meeting the gaze of a Pos Pos. He managed three seconds before shifting back to the Kontolian. ‘We weren’t that shocked by what we just watched, put it that way.’

Salvo put a hand on Trig’s shoulder. ‘Apart from the break time stuff, that was horrible.’

‘Yeah, apart from that.’

‘Ah, it comes in clear then.’ Luugi folded his hands together, the Kontolian way: one on top of the other. ‘Perhaps a complete personality change is not required.’

‘Personality change?’

‘Forget for now. This comes next week with Training. Your current task is to go to Book Sam and experience a more thorough rendering of the environment.’

‘We should do that now or-’

‘Your hologram will tell you more. Go with him.’

Trig nodded and was about to nudge Salvo and get her to nod too, but she wasn’t there. He looked forward for some reason, and then back, seeing her poking her hand through a faint-red particle field. Beyond that was some kind of cubicle, with a mop of blonde hair just about visible.

Trig called out her name and, when he didn’t get a response, walked the distance to try and grab her sleeve and pull her back. As he got close, he realised why she’d stopped.

The mop of blonde hair belonged to Katya, and in front of her was a wall projection of the place they’d just watched a documentary on. Metza Yat: island haven of rich humanoids and lax labour laws.

Only this one seemed to be in real time, and focused on one single, human worker. A woman walking out of a factory and past a group of other workers holding banners. It wasn’t clear what was written, but the banners as a whole gave Trig the feeling of a strike of some kind.

‘Katya,’ said Salvo, not too loud but enough to get through the particles. ‘It’s us, Salvo and Trig. The two you helped yesterday.’

Or maybe it wasn’t loud enough as Katya didn’t move an inch in response.

‘Hello, Katya,’ Salvo tried again, this time edging up to shout level.

Still no response.

‘That comes out as redundant,’ said Luugi, stepping in front of Salvo, and putting an arm out to block Trig.

‘What’s she doing in there?’

‘Her task.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Please, it is a forgivable action on day one, but if it continues then I must notify Security. This is the wish of no one.’

‘It’s fine, we’re finished,’ said Trig quickly. ‘Right, Salvo?’

‘Which security? The green guy?’

‘She didn’t mean that. We’re done, really. We just recognised the woman in there, Katya, and wanted to say hi.’

‘As I said, it is a forgivable action on day one,’ said Luugi, tone scraping against the content of their speech.

‘Yes. Understood. Thanks.’

‘Now, it is already late. The entrance is over there. You, the pair, go and find your hologram. Do your task.’

Trig nodded and said thanks again.

‘Go.’

Salvo looked back at Katya in the little alcove, seemingly transfixed by the movie playing on the wall screen, but there was not much more she could do as Luugi wasn’t budging.

They’d clearly taken a course in basic human psychology.

‘Come on,’ said Trig, taking her arm as gently as he could, ‘let’s go and find Jemba.’