it coming, yes,” he said carefully.
Archer looked back out of the window in silence not really looking at anything.
The skimmer spiraled in on the small landing area atop the main building, circling several times as security required so that they could be scanned electronically and visually from all sides for anything out of the ordinary, and then settled lightly on the pad itself, and floating inches above the surface. It wouldn’t settle completely onto the surface of the landing area until all passengers had left in order to offer them the absolute minimum of discomfort. They would probably not even notice the fine nuance of the vehicle to avoid any jostling or sudden bump from the landing itself.
As the door slid open, two uniformed security agents stood at attention. They were unarmed and beside of the one on the left floated a baggage flat ready to receive their luggage. Mathew stepped out onto the landing area followed by Shamreel, who seemed to cause no stir among the local personnel at all. He nodded in response to their salute. Mathew had never liked the custom of being saluted upon arrival, but it was good for discipline, and they would have done it in any case, even if he had requested not, so he simply acknowledged them and then ignored them. Archer followed, hesitant at first to step out and eyeing the security units tentatively. In Mathew’s mind, he could almost hear her internal dialogue, remembering the security forces that had found her and her father in the mountains and the ruthless way they had eliminated the ‘rebels’ they had found in the area. Anyone in uniform would probably make her a bit nervous right now.
“Memo to security,” he said to no one, “Have your men dress as workers while we’re here. Yellow arm insignias should be enough. We don’t’ want to distress our guest.”
“Affirmative,” the bone speaker embedded in his ear rattled loudly.
“And correct the volume!”
“Affirmative,” he heard in a softer tone.
He smiled at Archer’s questioning look at his talking to himself. “I was in contact with control, telling them that we were coming and would need to be shown to quarters. I never know where they’re going to put me.”
“Understood,” said the voice of the control. Archer smiled and nodded.
They entered the building to find themselves in a rather small plain foyer, three walls of which were dominated by wide door elevators. The center one opened immediately and they went in. When the doors closed, the compartment began to rise and then suddenly turned to the right, moving horizontally along what must have been a curved tunnel, because as they gained speed, they could feel themselves being pushed back toward one wall and then another. Several more S-turns and a short drop to a lower floor and the doors opened, depositing them into a much larger and much more ornate parlor.
Archer gasped when she saw it, which prompted Mathew to look around as if for the first time. He’d been here hundreds of times before, but until now, he’d never bothered to pay attention to his surroundings.
The parlor was perhaps forty feet in diameter with several gatherings of furniture strategically placed to create intimacy and at the same time, a feeling of friendly inclusiveness with the other seating areas. The area directly opposite the elevator door was clear plastisteel, forming a long curve and clear expanse from floor to ceiling some thirty feet above. Beyond was the ever present Vesuvius in the background, but in the foreground, spread out before them perhaps twenty stories below, was a modern industrial complex, all narrow roads and tramways, circular buildings interspersed with square or rectangular ones, and open areas like small parks, filled with trees and benches and each with its own small pool.
“Welcome to our main production facility,” Mathew said, but he noticed that she wasn’t looking at the view out the observation window any more. Her eyes took in the rest of the room, her body turning in a small circle and she grinning, eyes sparkling like a small child’s. Mathew looked around to see what was so fascinating.
A new mural had been installed on the wall of the room. It was a scene of green countryside and rolling hills dotted with Roman ruins and scenes of what would have been the Vatican, if it still existed. The sun was high in the sky and slowly rotated across the wall as if it were real. But none of it was real, and that was obvious from the style of the art. It was all angles and straight lines, garish colors and odd ‘almost shapes’ somewhat similar to the period in the early twentieth century known as Art Nuevo. Sun rays radiated out from the perfectly round sun in widening triangles that resembled long slivers of wood. The countryside in the scene was flat, stacked and lacking true perspective yet hauntingly familiar. Even the rolling hills had flat surfaces along their margin and the clouds in the sky were like a series of crystals with sharp points and edges, giving it a hard quality. Mathew thought it atrocious, but Archer seemed to revel in it.
“I had no idea,” she said in awe.
“Neither had I,” said Mathew with much less enthusiasm. He led her across the room to a small door in the wall and they passed into another short corridor and finally into a wider one lined with conventional doorways. Two of these, side by side and somewhat larger than the others, were blinking in a rose light projected from the ceiling.
“Yours is the far one,” Mathew said. “I’ve got the other one. There’s a connecting door but it can be sealed from your side. I’m afraid I’ve got to get to work, but I’ll be back later. I’ll arrange for a mid day meal to be sent if you want, or you can join me. It’s up to you.”
Archer looked almost wounded. She stared as if stunned for a moment and then asked in a very small voice, “Would you prefer I eat here alone? I don’t want to interfere with what you’re here for.”
Mathew softened and smiled. He shook his head. “I’d rather you eat with me, but I didn’t know if you wanted to. I was just making sure that you knew you didn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to.”
“I’d rather eat with you,” she said with a weak smile.
“Good. Settle in and I’ll be back in about three hours. Is that all right?”
“Perfect”, Archer said. “I need to clean up and change.
That takes three hours?” he thought to himself, and to her, “Good I’ll see you then.”
In engineering, Mathew was met by his chief engineer, Lars Sanburg, who was as robust and sturdy as his name seemed to imply. He was of Scandinavian ancestry, and he looked like an extra in a holo-vid about Vikings. Lars stood at least six foot six inches tall and was broad shoulders with a ruddy complexion and long blond hair. He even sported a bushy mustache; an affectation that only an actor would be expected to have. Lars was in his prime at age fifty three and he was a bachelor. He had two children both of whom he loved dearly, but as he had once explained, he had no time for wives and home and hearth. He called science his religion and engineering his liturgy. When he saw Mathew, he grinned, but his look changed to a frown when he saw the concerned look on his superior’s face.
“Where are we?” Mathew said without greeting.
“We’ve cleared away the wreckage and resurfaced the floor of the facility. All that we now need are the instruction sets for the bots. They can get started as soon as we have those.”
“Estimated time to complete the rebuild?”
Sanburg gave Mathew a worried look. Two days five hours at the outside. My Lord? Are you alright? You don’t seem yourself.”
Mathew looked up from the holo of the now pristine storage floor and realized that he was frowning, almost glaring at his chief engineer. As with Archer he suddenly softened his look, relaxing somewhat and cursing himself for his own intensity. “It’s personal, Lars. Sorry to let it interfere with the work.”
“I just wanted to be sure,” the man said.
“I’ll be fine. I think I’ve found a way to cut about four hours off that construction time, so once the figures are verified, let’s set up a schedule for restocking. Where have you got the finished units now?”
This