+++

As soon as she walked in and saw the nightmare futurist décor up ahead, Salvo turned and tried to walk right back out again.

Either through experience or heightened holographic programming, Jemba saw it coming and had already blocked her path out, softening the sudden obstacle of himself with a gentle hand on her arm and the assurance that this was a place to unwind, not freak out.

‘No one ever had a panic attack in Book Sam,’ he said, guiding her slowly past the giant promotions wall dividing the main entrance and gesturing at the first set of giant cushions dead ahead.

‘Are they beanbags?’ asked Trig, edging a few steps to the left to see if the Trv sitting there was actually relaxing or being lethargically absorbed.

‘You can call them that.’

‘What do you call them?’

‘Cushion chairs.’

Trig nodded, checking out the rest of the place. Salvo’s instinctive reaction to flee was understandable; despite the huge amount of floor space, which he guessed was a plus, there was a definite threat vibe going on, exemplified by the giant block wall at the entrance, which, for some reason, had a shadowy robot face drilling green eyes down through their skulls. Literally drilling, glowing green lasers running with blinking intermissions from the poster to their heads.

But now they were past that and standing like tourists in the main area, it seemed like Jemba was right. The rest of the décor wasn’t at all oppressive, the lights were warm pink, delivered by orbs stuck on the walls, and only a third of the cushion chairs were occupied [by pretty chill-looking xeno-types].

‘Okay, basic info,’ started Jemba, letting go of Salvo’s arm and moving round the curved-katana blade wall to the left, ‘six resting pods here for long-play sessions. Don’t need to worry about them, they’re mostly used for trauma vets and…vets in general. Perks of the rank. Archive boxes are the same at each pod and cushion chair. Select the serial first, set the timer then lie back and patch in. Not too complicated.’

Trig passed Jemba and prodded one of the pods with his finger. ‘Is this rubber?’

‘Again, not the name we use, but a similar material.’

‘Is it comfortable?’

‘Not too bad.’

‘You’ve used it before?’

Jemba opened his mouth but forgot to sheepdog out any words. Instead, he just traced the outline of the rubber pod, his thumb and finger rubbing an invisible, microscopic worry ball between them.

‘Are you okay?’

He blinked, turning to Salvo out of reflex, even though it was Trig who’d asked the question. ‘Let’s keep up with the lady.’

‘You mean Salvo?’

‘Try and sell the calming aspects of this place a little better.’

Trig looked back down at the rubber pod, prodding it one last time, then followed Jemba over to Salvo. At first, he thought it was a good thing that she wasn’t glued to them both, a sign that the anxiety was dimming and the red light wouldn’t be needed again, but then he saw her positioning. Planted near a cushion chair in the far left corner, back against the wall, probably using it as a safe point to map out the rest of Book Sam.

Or was he being too pessimistic?

‘You see,’ said Jemba, taking a place on the wall next to her, ‘no crowds in here. Lots of space between cushion chairs.’

‘What is she doing?’ asked Salvo, specifying nothing.

‘Who?’

‘The woman over there…bending down.’

Both Jemba and Trig scanned the cushion chairs and pods, the ones on the ground floor and the ones a few steps up on the…first floor? Ground and a half floor? Apart from the Trv they’d seen when they’d first come in, there were only about six other aliens in there, all humanoid, all seemingly asleep on the cushion chairs. Or patched in as had Jemba called it.

‘Ah, a technician,’ said Jemba, finally, pointing at a figure tucked in behind the curved wall on the right side of the entrance. ‘Common occurrence, sadly. The tech isn’t all top of the range, budgeting issue, no point going into it, really.’

‘I saw her last night, in the observation place.’

‘Yeah, you might be right.’

‘The Krsnik,’ added Trig, pulling out his pad to check and then putting it away again when he realised how long it would take to confirm, and both Jemba and Salvo were nodding along anyway.

‘There’s never that many on the station at any one time. And they mostly keep themselves to themselves so…’ Jemba moved forward and patted the archive box nearby. ‘How about we get you started on one of these?’

It was a question that floated off into the void.

Salvo continued to monitor the Krsnik technician, looking away when she was spotted and looking back again after seven, eight seconds, while Trig’s attention was drawn magnet-like to the upper floor. Specifically, a doorway with no door in the middle.

‘Is that a VIP area?’ he asked, moving next to Jemba.

‘Not exactly.’

‘An adult-only area?’

‘Err…no. Which adults? You can play anything on any of these pods, there’s no-…it’s a completely open, free server.’

‘Is it a different department then?’

‘Okay, please stop guessing. It’s the exotic alien section. Where they go to patch in. You know, their idea of comfort isn’t quite the same as humanoids, and…there’s the integration policy, so it has to be in here, not on the lower level.’

‘Is that a forcefield protecting it?’

‘Wah, good eyesight.’

‘I can’t see it, I’m just guessing.’

‘It’s mostly superficial, doesn’t actually enforce anything. And why are we talking about fringe details again? I’m supposed to be showing you how to operate the archive boxes and the chairs.’

‘She’s moving,’ said Salvo, looking up at the ceiling.

Brain detached, Trig followed her eyes up, squinting at the same spiral motifs he’d seen in the Teleport Room, before his smarter neurons kicked in and sent him over to the entrance. Salvo was right, the Krsnik had finished whatever it was she’d been fixing and was walking out, staring directly at them as she went.

Remembering his be nice to new aliens policy from childhood, he raised his hand and offered a half waving action.

‘Wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ muttered Jemba.

‘Why not?’

‘In Krnsik culture, that’s the equivalent of slitting your throat.’

Trig dropped his hand instantly, then shifted it onto the cushion chair. That felt awkward too, so he moved it again, this time onto the archive box.

‘Relax, I was joking. But still, you shouldn’t be waving like that, especially at Krsnik. They don’t appreciate that kind of openness…think it’s cloying.’

Nearby, one of the seven other patched in aliens, a Kontolian, shot a lava red arm in the air and held it there for about ten seconds. Then, with the arm wavering a bit, the rest of their body rose up, in solidarity perhaps.

‘We’ll take that a sign.’

‘Of what?’ asked Trig, reflexively raising his hand again to wave then stopping when he saw the Kontolian wasn’t even looking.

‘Extreme lag. Come on, both of you, huddle around.’

‘Are they awake?’ asked Salvo, not moving.

‘Immersion haze. Takes a minute to readjust. Now stand here, I’m showing you how to use the box.’

Keeping her eyes on the Kontolian, who was staring at their own palm as if it were an ancient tablet, Salvo took the few steps over to the archive box and immediately frowned at the menu screen.

‘Basically, it’s just like your own pads. Or any menu screen really. Start with the broad topic and hone in. Generally, I’d guess you’d both go for human fiction or Sol System edu-drama…see, these ones here…but as it’s your first two weeks, you should probably focus on the portal manual. Day in the life of is a good serial for beginners.’

‘Wah, it’s got Alien Goat Face,’ said Trig, his voice startling Jemba as it didn’t seem to be coming from where it should have been…but then he looked up and saw the Chinese kid tapping at the archive box opposite.

‘I see you’re the proactive type.’

‘That’s a book I’ve been reading back home, in the book shop. How the hell do they have it here?’

‘Salvo, you may as well start playing on this one.’ Jemba moved round the side of the two archive boxes clumped together and read the screen. ‘Yes, I know this serial. It was written by a Terzoan, quite a long time ago.’

‘But…it’s back home too. I mean, it’s published, in the book shop.’

‘I suppose he must’ve moved there at some point. It happens.’

‘Terzoans move to Earth permanently?’

‘Those that can handle the tech-gap, yeah. Or those that want to exploit it. As long as they don’t wade into DAH-Bot creation. That’s the only real off-limits thing. Fuck, we’re going tangential again…you people are like a pair of Huxx nationalists…’

‘Who?’

‘Here, select your novel as a trial run. There. Now sit down and patch in.’ Jemba swiped Alien Goat Face on the screen and then patted the cushion chair. ‘I’ve chosen your character for you, but you can change at any point in the first ten minutes. After that, you’re locked in for whatever time limit you set. We’ll try thirty minutes for your first run, nothing too crazy.’

Trig sat down in the chair and then sunk a little deeper as the cushion welcomed him in. He was about to ask how to patch in when the instructions were spoken directly into his ear.

‘Dip your fingers or claw or functional mass into the green slime to your left. Smear a small amount on your temple or cortex zone. Next, take the black bud in the sink-container next to the green slime and press it onto the wet area. Finally, sit back and wait for your selected serial to start.

‘You hearing it okay?’ asked Jemba, gesturing at the green slime.

‘I have to do it all now?’

‘Within two minutes. Then just sit back and wait for the scenery to change. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. Neither does coming out. It’s just a bit disorienting.’

Trig took a breath, and then started on the patching in routine.

Jemba watched him do the slime, then turned to Salvo and clapped his hands together. ‘Right, your turn. Found anything good?’

‘I don’t know.’

He came round to her side of the screen and laughed when he saw the menu. ‘That’ll definitely relax you.’

‘It’s Japanese.’

‘Yeah, trip to the onsen. Select your partner and then have sex with them until you get bored or overheat. Or try voyeur mode and watch. Not really sure you’re looking for that right now.’

‘It’s porn?’

‘Hard porn, as if you were really there.’

Salvo did another scan of the room again, flinching at the six humanoids lying back on the cushion chairs…and Trig too. His eyelids were almost closed and his head was swaying.

‘Don’t think about it. Focus on what you want. Japanese serial, right?’

‘Yes…’

‘How about this one…Kawasaki Mage. Set in 2025, you get sucked into an alternate Tokyo of demons and spirit lords, where everything looks the same…but isn’t. Yeah, looking at the preview, the first hour’s just set-up, walking around Kawasaki, trying to find someone with information.’

‘Okay.’

‘Put you in for thirty minutes, like Trig?’

Salvo nodded, looking over at her friend. He was asleep now, or patched in, with a blank look on his face.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Jemba, clamping yet another hand on her arm. ‘The rest of the station is chaos…but not here.’

‘The patching in…’

‘Is painless. Just like taking a nap.’

Running her hand over the chair, then poking it in the middle, Salvo asked one more time if it was okay to use, and, when Jemba told her to just sit down, imagine it’s a beanbag back home, she took a breath and slid on in.

+++

Thirty minutes later, the scenery phased back in and Salvo shouted out, ‘you’re not even enrolled at this college, fuck face.’

For the thirty-forty seconds after that, the characters and background images she’d been walking among for the last half an hour blurred in and out, one part of her brain telling her it was mage trickery, and another, more persistent part repeating over and over that it was time to patch out.

Finally, she opened her eyes, not realising they’d already opened a minute and a half earlier.

‘Fuck me,’ she muttered, shivering slightly, trying to regulate breath that was perfectly normal.

‘Pretty weird, ne?’ said Trig, standing over her cushion chair.

‘Was that-’

‘Thirty minutes as promised,’ interjected Jemba, standing by the menu and swiping. ‘Just to acclimatise you.’

‘But…it really felt like-’

‘You were there. Sorry, I have to finish your sentences, otherwise we’ll be here all day. Immersion haze for first timers is the same questions on loop. Yes, it felt real, no, you weren’t really interacting with real people, yes, we do need to focus on the Metza Yat material next.’

‘We’re doing it again?’

‘Of course. That’s why it’s called acclimatisation.’

‘It’s okay, I don’t mind,’ said Salvo, shuffling around on the cushion chair, but not sitting up.

‘If you only did it once a day, for thirty minutes, your body would have a much greater risk of displacement horror when you go to Metza Yat.’

‘Displacement what?’

‘That’s why we have a minimum limit. Three hours a day, portal focused.’

‘What about the Japanese one?’ asked Salvo.

‘Personal selections, for first timers…two hours max, but only after you’ve done the three hour minimum. They’re quite strict on this.’ Jemba finished swiping on the menu screen and walked back over to Salvo’s chair. ‘I’ve locked the Metza Yat program in. You’ve got twenty minutes to recover, chat with Trig, walk around outside, then it’s starting.’

‘For me too?’

‘Both of you. It’s provisional at the moment as I don’t know what kind of identities you’re gonna choose, but…for you, Trig, I’ve gone with environmental worker, and Salvo, you’re on the production line.’

‘You mean, we’re going to be working?’

‘Not only. It’s A day in the life of… Could be work, could be a day off. Though given Metza Yat labour laws, probably the former.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Salvo, sitting up in her chair.

‘Yeah, that’s the point. A few sessions and you’ll be on firmer ground.’

‘But-’

‘Eighteen minutes left. I’ve gotta go and take care of something. Back in three hours.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Any problems, push the ASSIST button on the archive box.’

Jemba folded both hands together in mock prayer and walked off towards the entrance, stopping by the promotion wall for a few seconds then disappearing outside.

Salvo swung her legs over the side of the chair and lifted herself with a lot of effort off the cushions.

‘You feeling okay?’ asked Trig, doing mini neck rotations.

‘Mixed.’

‘Bad mixed?’

‘Better if I could go back into the Japanese serial.’

‘Yeah, me too. For the Alien Goat Face one.’

‘It was comforting.’

‘I guess you can always go back in later, after we do our stint in Metza thingy. Our work day.’

‘A dream within a dream within a dream.’

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Poem?’

Salvo stroked the side of the cushion. ‘From the serial I just played…was patched into. One of the characters said it.’

‘A poet character?’

‘Ha, funny.’

‘Wah, don’t look now but-’

Salvo turned, following Trig’s weird attempt at a wave, and instantly wanted to dive under the cushion chair.

‘My favourite humans,’ said the same Terzoan they’d met the day before, this time wearing something not unlike an elderly pornographer’s dressing gown. ‘I hope you’re not patching out already.’

‘Yes,’ blurted out Salvo, almost spitting.

‘Nah, you must be on the three hour stretch. Day in the life of a brainless drone. Pity, we could’ve shared the same server.’

‘Not interested.’

‘You don’t know enough to be not interested. Some of the serials I know…’

‘We need to prepare for our next thing,’ cut in Trig, forgetting the correct term and getting zero help from Salvo’s forehead. ‘Maybe you can tell us some other time.’

‘Gods, you’re such a weird pair. But probably a blessing short term. Either one of you alone, not sure I could deal with that.’

‘Okay…we’re gonna discuss something, in private.’

‘Ha, it’s okay. I’m not a Kontolian. You can just ignore me and I’ll take the hint.’

‘Err…thanks.’

Salvo fake smiled and turned her back on him, pushing Trig’s arm to try and make him do the same.

‘Piece of advice though. Don’t speak too much in the first twenty minutes. Just absorb what’s happening around you, watch how the other drones act. Easier that way.’

‘Okay…we’ll give it a-’

The Terzoan turned abruptly and headed over to the other corner, picking a chair that had either a Nabian or another Terzoan opposite. Of course, there was no communication as the other one was already patched in, but the Terzoan did pat the sleeper on the thigh as he walked past.

‘Another repeat face,’ said Salvo, looking at Trig’s arm.

‘It’s okay, he said we can ignore him.’

‘Good.’

‘Though he did seem okay at the end there…giving us some advice.’

‘Too little, too late.’

Salvo looked over at the entrance as two more humanoids entered, a Pos Pos and a Kontolian, then glanced further right at the Terzoan. It was either bad timing or he’d been waiting for her to turn as he was tapping the part of his chest where his heart lay, and mouthing something at her.

‘Pervert,’ she said back, full volume, then settled back down into her own cushion chair.