Herculanium (14 page)

All that was left was the opening itself.

He stood up and walked around the office, smiling at his employees as they worked. Peryson had a reputation for being gruff and demanding at times, but this event was too fantastic for him to be anything but happy. Phones were ringing off the hook, fielded by secretaries and public relations specialists. Media packets were sent out as quickly as media inquiries came in, giving extra work to the already-overloaded deliverymen and women streaming in-and-out of the mailroom.

A small-scale replica of the Olympus Space Station sat in the lobby of the McGinnis compound, and Peryson stared at it every time he passed the reception desk. He always he imagined he could see people inside its small portholes, or that the small chambers inside the model were alive with life and electricity. The model-building child inside him never grew up, and he couldn’t help but relish the day when the toy version of the station would hit the toy stands so he could build it himself.

“Dick,” said Estelle the receptionist, “you have a call on Line Two.”

“Thank you. I’ll take it in my office.” Peryson walked briskly back to his office and leaned casually back in his chair. “This is Richard Peryson. Can I help you?”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Peryson. My name is Lieutenant-Colonel Aidan Perry, with the Secretary of Defense. May we speak in confidence, sir?”

“Of course, Mr. Perry. What’s on your mind?” Peryson stood up and gently pushed his door closed, taking care his phone-guest didn’t hear the lock click shut.

“I believe you’ve been in touch with some of my agents over the past few months. They should’ve detailed a time-line to you regarding the project’s completion. Do you have any questions or concerns?”

“In all honesty, Colonel Perry, I am understandably uncomfortable with the decisions. I’m not that familiar with the specifics, just the nuances. Our other partners are much more competent.”

“We’ve already been in touch with your partners. Due to its potentially volatile nature, you can understand why public relations and promotions would be the last to be informed. Have you received our guidelines regarding accepted terminology and signage?”

Peryson lifted an unopened envelope from the bottom of a slush pile stacked on the floor next to his desk. “Yes, I’m looking at it right now. Interesting piece of work.”

“Thank you. We would like to be able to proof all promotional material before it goes out to the general public.”

“Colonel Perry, since when did Olympus become a military project? This is a multi-national corporate effort that does not hinge on U.S. military approval and discretion. You cannot possibly expect us to wave months of hard collaborative work for your sake?”

Deafening silence oozed from the conference call speaker.

“We’ll be there this afternoon. Perry out.”

Peryson leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temples in large circles. He then reached for a shot glass that sat in front of a nearly empty liquor cabinet.

* * *

Preston’s cynical, almost malicious, style of humor fell silent for the first time since arriving. Micky, a veteran of countless field assignments that ranged from the subtle to the sublime, stood speechless. The entire tour group was frozen in its spot, unable to move from the grandeur before them. Dr. Gracie crossed her arms and smiled in smugness, winking at the escorts, who, like her, have seen the spectacle before.

They stood at the entrance of Olympus’s Mall of the Galaxy, described in the commercials as the central hub of the space station. Above them was a clear glass dome that showed the glittering stars as if viewed through a crystal wineglass; terrifyingly transparent and almost non-existent. It was an exact replica of the ceiling rose window centerpiece of the spaceport down in San Francisco, except these very same stars were real. The floor below the dome was also transparent, supported and framed by a short tunnel before giving view to the vacuum below the station. From a certain angle, the arc of the earth itself dominated both views from top to bottom, presenting the planet in as grand a way as possible.

It was the view all acrophobes feared most.

Encircling the centerpiece domes at ground-level was a rotunda of shops that sold items created within the station’s zero gravity environment. It resembled any mall back on earth, with store facades glowing with neon signs, glass displays and animated commercials. From designer clothes to curio shops, from sports attire to snack joints, the rotunda was fully-stocked with both new and familiar brand names. Classical music played softly in the background, giving this would-be giant aquarium of wonders a traditional dignity.

For Dr. Gracie, this silence was too deafening.

“This much quiet from such an illustrious group could mean one of two things,” she said with amusement, “sheer amazement, or abject disappointment. Which one is it?”

Preston turned around and stared at her in amazement. Micky took the first step forward and raised her trembling hands, making sure she was still holding her pen and pad.

“What’s there to say, Dr. Gracie?” she whispered. “I had no idea Olympus would be like this…”

Preston took three steps forward and stopped. On the edge of the bottom clear dome, he looked up and stared at the looming oculus. He had to squint and close his eyes a few times, fighting innate phobias screaming for him to walk back to the crowd. As if walking a tight rope without a balance bar or net, he slowly willed himself to stand in the middle of both clear domes. He took a deep, resonant breath, then opened his eyes.

He stared at the infinite space below him, and then at the stars glittering above. Preston felt like he was levitating in space.

“Congratulations, Mr. Jones,” said Dr. Gracie. “You’re the very first person to accomplish that feat on the first try.”

Preston screamed in triumph, then quickly ran back to the tour group. “I can pitch this,” he said repeatedly. “If this is how the rest of the station is going to look, I’ll be your spokesman for life. Mr. Peryson, wherever you are, thank you.” He stared at the bottom dome and pointed at a visible section of earth. “Thank you.”

Dr. Gracie began to walk the tour group slowly around the rotunda, carefully observing their reactions to the displays. It was a stark contrast to their moods while walking through the hallways that led to the Mall.

“This is the center piece of Olympus. All compartments and activity areas resonate from here. The viewing ports above and below us are encased in a clear polymer plastic several meters thick, making this the best and safest view anywhere. The shops will be selling merchandise found nowhere else on earth. Eventually, they will be available to the general public below through specialty outlets. We are constantly inventing new products in our labs. In time, these inventions may actually replace what we currently use back home.”

Preston and Micky stayed at the head of the line, while some of the scientists stayed behind to try what Preston had just accomplished. The escorts did their best to be patient with the now child-like and giggling scientists. With stragglers eventually catching up, the group finished the rotunda tour complete, ending up in the area where they had originally entered.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is where we split up.” Dr. Gracie waved for the escorts to come to the front while she addressed the tour group. “One group will come with me, and the other will follow Ms. Kendra Adams. This way, we’ll cover more area and we won’t clutter the walkways. We’ll meet back here in approximately two hours, then have lunch in the food court.”

“You’re not taking notes, Ms. Suarez?” Preston spoke without turning his head to face her.

“Unlike some people,” said Micky in sharp rebuttal, “I have very good memory.”

“Mr. Jones, you and the physiologists will join Ms. Adams and begin in the West Pillar of Olympus. I will take Ms. Suarez and the engineers and begin on the Eastern Pillar. We will all meet back here in two hours.”

“Pillars, Dr. Gracie?”

“There are four pillars, or sections, that support Olympus, Micky. A ‘pillar’ is a metaphor for the four sections that keep the station in orbit. Just another mythical reference from the designers. You’ll get used to it.”

The crowd slowly broke away into their respective groups. Micky had her pen and pad ready for action, while Preston again took the point position and stood right next to his escort.

“Beware of the nymphs that tempt men’s souls in Olympus, gentlemen,” admonished Dr. Gracie to the other group as she led her own tour away to another corridor. “If you’re not careful, they’ll eat you alive.”

Preston turned to Kendra and smiled. “Nymphs? Did she mean nymphomaniacs? Are there hookers up here?”

Kendra rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Only in your head, Mr. Jones. Only in your head.”

* * *

The dark corridors of Olympus fanned out in all directions, regardless of which hallway each tour group entered. Unlike the Mall of the Galaxy centerpiece, much of the station was still under construction. Some walkways were obstacle courses, complete with unassembled furniture, open electrical panels, octopus wiring, and barricades. The inconsistent lighting and rotating power schedule gave it the appearance of a funhouse, especially more dreamlike with the slight change in gravity. The station itself wasn’t very large, but its hallways were so interconnected that it was almost a complicated knot tied unto itself several times.

Its three public floors were accessible through vertical stairs and catwalks, an almost fun activity in lighter gravity. Olympus was built in sections at different time schedules and with different decorative motifs, and the inconsistency in design was laughable at certain junctures. Engineers and construction workers walked about freely, always rushing to finish one project to start another.

Dr. Gracie led Micky and the engineers to the Eastern Pillar and began her station tour there. Her version of the tour dealt with the mechanics of the station and the massive effort to keep it in orbit. She methodically explained the function of each lab and research facility, often times going through doors marked as off-limits. From the meteorological observation deck to the gravimetric control booths; from satellite communications to the main bridge of Olympus itself, Dr. Gracie explained its inner workings, repeating every few minutes that what they were all seeing was extremely classified information. Ironically, she added that this engineering tour was off-limits to the other tour group, and was limited only to scientific personnel. Micky was most impressed with a small monorail system that rotated around the station, giving a view even more spectacular than that of the Mall’s.

Kendra Adams’ tour from the Western Pillar concentrated more on the activities end of the station. She began with a walk-through of the airlock for the spacewalk platform, where hotel guests could, with supervision, actually venture outside the station in a pressure suit. She then led the group through different unfinished compartments, the skeleton rooms for the proposed church, art studio, and even a corporate meeting room for rent. Preston stayed outside the room where the ashes of deceased loved ones could be jettisoned and dissipated in space. Death was the last thing he wanted to think about while visiting in space. While there were several gambling and game rooms available, there really weren’t any sporting facilities he could use to exercise. The gym, he was told, was not quite completed. Kendra ended the tour where the group entered the station initially, at the main boarding airlock.

Preston was impressed with the station’s potential, just not its progress for completion. Construction seemed to be harried and haphazard, and he just couldn’t see the station ready for its grand opening in two weeks. The workers and their jobs were quite isolated in space, and materials weren’t readily handy from the corner store. None of them wore masks while walking through some of the construction zones, and he could just imagine how much floating dust they inhaled in the shadows. This was also the most polite tour group he had ever met; no one even bothered to make mention of the moths that were fluttering around some of the lights. On one occasion, he could’ve sworn he stepped on a passing rat’s tail by accident.

* * *

Micky rolled the vegetable from one side of her mouth to the other, trying her best not to ball her cheeks in the process. There was something off about its texture, and it tasted like the smell of a rubber toy. Turning her head as if to cough, she quickly spat it out into a napkin and tucked it under one corner of her plate. No one else seemed to share her sentiment in the surrounding dining booths, so she decided not to ask for anyone else’s reactions.

“Is this seat taken?” Preston stood beside her with a tray full of food and drinks.

“There’s not enough room for your ego. Why don’t you try to restroom stall? That seems to suit you best so far.”

Preston motioned as if to attempt a snappy comeback, but refrained. “I’m here to make peace. I know I’ve acted like a jerk, and I apologize. I just need someone to talk to.”

“That’s funny; were you waiting to meet someone here who actually cares about what you have to say?”

“I’m trying to be nice here. I can only say ‘sorry’ so many times.”

“You’ve only said it once so far. I’m still waiting for the second time.”

“I said, ‘I’m sorry.’”

Micky motioned for him to sit down. “Now that we’re best of friends again, would you mind explaining why the hell you’ve had this fucked up attitude against me? If I remember correctly, the only thing I did to you was save your life. Then, your buddy Max offers me a job I couldn’t refuse. You now accuse me of being some kind of opportunist. All this coming from I guy whose pussy-ass I saved, and who just agreed to open up a motel. Am I making sense?”

Preston took a deep breath, calming himself from instinctively snapping back against such forceful words.

“I know I deserve all that. This whole thing hasn’t been easy for me. This isn’t like playing for a professional basketball team or a media campaign. This whole thing is so much bigger than all that put together.”