They have TV here. They’re able to watch the broadcast of their Rock
Meetings, if they so choose. Each episode is about an hour long, and one
episode streams per day. At this rate, they’re going to be stuck on this
prison world for about eight months. Fortunately for the representatives of
the five realities, they’re not in any of the prison facilities. It’s a big
planet, and an entire small continent has been devoted to witness protection
instead of incarceration. It’s a little odd, to protect people on the same
planet as the people they may need to be protected from, but it’s not a
completely wild idea. Back in the Third Rail, there was only one inhabited
planet, so witness relocation programs always worked like this. In fact,
witnesses were rarely ever moved outside of their respective countries.
There are no boats here. Any prisoner who wanted to reach a witness would
have to first break out of wherever they’re being kept, then build
themselves a raft. It would take them months to make it across the ocean,
assuming they didn’t get caught anywhere. On the other hand, if they have
access to a spaceship, it probably doesn’t matter anymore whether they have
to go to a different planet or not.
Some witnesses in the program are a little more dangerous than others, so
the continent has been further broken up into cities. The representatives
are in the most luxurious of them all, designed for VIPs, leaders under
grave threat, and in hiding, and others who need a little more
consideration. Ramses was right, the accommodations are pretty good here,
but Cosette doesn’t regret insisting on bringing her personal pocket
dimension with her. This is her home, and it’s where she feels the most
comfortable. She has installed it over the door of one of the closets in her
realspace penthouse. Ayata is the one living out there instead, serving as a
gatekeeper for visitors or attackers, but otherwise taking a vacation from
her duties as an assistant. That’s what she’s meant to be doing anyway. “Tea
and seaweed crackers? It’s a local delicacy.”
They’re by the water, about 300 meters above the surface. Each tower sits on
top of the base, which grants access to a dedicated elevator and emergency
stairwell. Only the structure at the top contains living space. The towers
are structurally connected to one another, but there is no passage between
them. You would have to go down to the first floor, and walk across the
lobby, to get to another tower. “Ayata, I brought you here so you could have
a break, not so you could keep working for me,” Cosette tries to explain for
the umpteenth time. I thought it was a pretty good excuse, since there’s
always work to be done back on Earth, so we’re always so busy. There is no
business to take care of for the time being. Just relax.”
“I don’t...like doing nothing,” Ayata admits.
“Have you ever tried it?”
“Not really.”
Cosette sighs. “Do you know where that seaweed comes from?”
“The ocean?” Ayata asks in a half-question, unsure if she’s taking the full
meaning here, or not.
“That ocean right there.” Cosette points through the windows. They’re not
exactly real windows. They are viewscreens which are showing what the real
windows see from the penthouse. They would have to leave the pocket
dimension to look through them for real. “Why don’t you synthesize a sexy
bikini, go down there, and sun yourself on the beach? Maybe meet someone
new.”
“Ambassador DuFour,” Ayata scolds.
“Not to breach sexual harassment policy, but I remember wishing that I had
shown my body off more when I was your age.”
Ayata was born in the Sixth Key. She doesn’t know what the world was like
before the Reconvergence. “You can be my age if you want,” she reminds her
boss.
Cosette leans her head against the backrest, and tilts her chin to the side.
“I think I’m done age-shifting. I deal with people from the Parallel and the
Fourth Quadrant so much, and they cured aging ages ago. It’s just not really
much of an advantage anymore. Maybe it never was.”
“So which age are you going to choose? This one?”
She’s presently expressing the mid- to late thirties, which is still a bit
older than how Nuadu appears. “I think so. It’s a good middle ground. I’m
old enough to be respected, but young enough to be accessible.”
“And you’re not unattractive,” Ayata says with a smile. “Not to breach
sexual harassment policy.”
Cosette smiles back.
“This wouldn’t happen to do with a certain military man who lives next door,
would it? The one who’s always coming over to do his rounds?”
“He’s checking the perimeter,” Cosette reasons. “He’s been trained to be a
protector.”
“No, he’s been trained as a killer. Those are the kind of soldiers who rank
up to high leadership positions. He only comes over to see you.”
Cosette scoffs quietly, and shakes her head.
“How about this? How about you age yourself to seventy or eighty, and ask
him to stay for dinner. Cook him a real meal; not synthesized, and give the
room some ambiance. If he’s responsive, and engaged in conversation, he’s
interested in you as a person, not just for your looks.”
“Maybe he’ll just say no, and I won’t learn anything. It won’t even
necessarily be because of my apparent age.”
“He can’t say no,” Ayata reasons. “You’re going to cook for him to say thank
you for all he’s done. He’s on vacation, so he doesn’t have anything to do.
If he comes up with an excuse, I guess that’s your answer.”
“I haven’t cooked in a long time,” Cosette reveals.
“Well, I’ll help you. I like doing things the old way sometimes. I’ll
probably be in charge of ambiance too since your taste is a little...”
“Bland? Is that the word you’re looking for?”
“Hey, you said it.” There’s a ring at the elevator downstairs. They
look over at the security monitor to see Nuadu waiting patiently in the
lobby. Ayata smirks. “Heh, it’s kismet.”
“House, let ‘im up,” Cosette instructs. They continue to watch as the doors
open, and let Nuadu inside. He rides up to the top, walks inside, and is
about to knock on the closet door when it opens. “Nice to see you,
Harbinger.”
“Ambassador-at-Large,” he replies cordially.
“Would you like to come in for some tea and seaweed crackers?” She’s
suddenly struck with a sense of relief that she and Ayata stopped to talk
about the crackers first, before diving into them. They still look all nice
and untouched.
“I really shouldn’t stay too long,” Nuadu says apologetically. “I’m afraid I
woke up too late this morning, and I’m a little behind schedule.”
This looks like a pretty good opening. “Well, perhaps you can return this
evening for dinner? I’ve been looking for a good excuse to cook.”
“Yeah, that sounds great.” He says it with a bit too much enthusiasm, but he
knows if he tries to backpedal now, the drastic shift in tone will only make
him look even more eager. So he widens his eyes, freezes up, and waits for
Cosette to continue the conversation instead.
“Great! No pressure, but think about what you like to eat, and text me a
message later. Include your dietary restrictions, of course. Maybe within
the hour?”
“I can do that, thanks.” He looks over at Ayata. “And will the lovely Miss
Seegers be joining us?”
Ayata stammers a bit. “I have a date with the, uhh...God of the
Sea...tonight.” She smiles awkwardly. “I’m going on a walk. My boss says I
work too hard, and she’s making me take a break. Away from here.” Nice save.
Cosette hopes that her comment doesn’t make Nuadu uncomfortable. Perhaps he
missed Ayata’s emphasis on the word I. “You don’t have to if you
don’t want to,” she says to Ayata, under her breath, but obviously loud
enough for everyone in the room to hear.
“I believe that you will enjoy the beach at night,” Nuadu adds. “There are
some bioluminescent sea creatures that come out after dusk. I don’t know
what they are, but Andrei Orlov of the Fourth Quadrant likes to watch them.
Perhaps you could meet up with him.”
“Thanks, I’ll give him a call.” Ayata points over her own shoulder. “I gotta
go into the other room now.” She points at Cosette. “Unless you need
something first.”
“No, that will be all, Ayata. Thanks.”
Ayata nods reverently, then walks away.
Cosette waits until she’s gone before admitting, “I’ve been trying to get
her to slow down for a while now. We just kind of had a tiff about it. She
doesn’t really understand that she’s not here to work.”
“I get where she’s comin’ from,” Nuadu replies. “I’m still workin’.”
“But you know you don’t have to, right? The Tanadama installed automated
sentries all over the place. You passed at least two of them on your way
here from your tower.”
“I know, but I just kind of...like to see the people.”
Cosette nods. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” She points towards the
door as if he’s just about to leave.
“Yeah, I’m gonna—” He motions to the side of him.
“Right, right. You always start in the...parlor.” Her voice softens in a
gradient as the sentence goes on. She steps a little to the side so he can
do his made up job.
He does what he needs to do, inside the pocket and out, and then he leaves
to run a security sweep of the other towers. Or maybe he never does that,
and he only ever comes here. Cosette has never asked any of the others about
it, and they’ve not brought it up on their own. They don’t interact all that
much. If they didn’t grow up accustomed to the isolation of self-sufficient
living, the last week they’ve been here has given them the requisite
experience. That was evidently a major issue in the Parallel and the Fifth
Division. Avoiding congregating in large groups was easy in the former, and
in some cases, vital to survival in the latter. As the more seasoned
diplomat of them all, perhaps she ought to take it upon herself to make
changes to that. They’re going to be here for so long, they should get to
know each other better.
Night has fallen, and the hour of the date—or non-date—is quickly
approaching. Cosette is putting the finishing touches on her decorations,
which she decided to do in realspace, instead of her pocket dimension. She
didn’t end up accepting help from Ayata, save for a few minor tasks, and
some constructive criticism. If this was going to mean anything, it had to
come from Cosette, or he may as well be on a date with Ayata.
Was this a date? Would he say as much? She’s about to have her
opportunity to gauge his feelings based on his reaction to all this. The
mood lighting alone will be hard to ignore. There’s an elevator
notification. He’s early, so she’s not quite ready. Instead of wasting more
time on more matches, she uses one of the lit ones to light the rest, and it
occurs to her that this is how she should have done it the entire time, and
she’s kind of an idiot. How did people live like this in the past? She was
going for a classic, rustic feel, but it has been a lot of work. Will he
appreciate the retro look, or will he be super confused since his
civilization has just about always had robots and spaceships. Oh my God,
she’s thinking about this too much. Answer the door. Answer the door!
She races to the security panel. “Come on up!” She tries to hit the elevator
button, but she fumbles. Then she fumbles again. “Goddammit.” She finally
hits her target, then taps the intercom button again. “Okay, now! Sorry.” As
she’s watching the graphic of the elevator fly upwards, she remembers that
Ayata suggested she look like an elderly woman to see if he’s here for her,
or for her looks. Now she’s not so sure if she wants to go through with
that. He’s almost here, she has to make a decision. Will it just throw him
off? Will it be too distracting? Her age-shifting is a choice, she’ll look
like an asshole if she’s all wrinkly and gross. He’s getting closer. She’ll
have no excuse, or will she? Can she come up with some believable reason?
Can she do it in the next five seconds? Four, three, two, one.
The elevator doors open, and Nuadu steps into the penthouse looking at a 55
or 56 year old woman. He’s shocked, but maybe not bothered? He looks her up
and down. “Wow, you look gorgeous tonight.”
“Do you really think so?” Though she compromised on the aging, she’s not
come up with a plausible explanation for not being thirty at the oldest. She
ought to make herself look as hot as possible.
“Yeah, that dress is beautiful.”
“Thanks, it’s conventionally made, not synthesized.”
“I can tell. It doesn’t look...too ordered; cold. If that makes any sense.”
She smiles. “Come on in. Can I take your coat?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They have a nice dinner together. Though the food is not synthesized, as she
promised it wouldn’t be, she didn’t exactly churn her own butter either. The
penthouse came equipped with a number of advanced cooking tools and machines
which her people never invented in the Third Rail. Though it’s certainly too
early to say that the two of them are in love, it feels safe to acknowledge
that it was indeed a date. The way he was looking at her, he’s definitely
interested in something more. At one point, she gradually started aging
herself up, and he didn’t bat an eye. After they were done eating, they
retired to the sitting room for tea, at which point she caught her
reflection in a decorative mirror, and asked whether he even noticed that
she was 75 at this point. She explained that it happens on its own when
she’s not being careful, and he told her that he didn’t care. There’s
definitely something between them, they just need time to explore it.
Luckily, they have eight months for that.
