He flicked the switch on the right side of the headset. The screen blinked off and he was in darkness again. With both hands he slowly pulled it back over his head.
The headset was cumbersome but not heavy, its broad curved shell enveloped his eyes. The sensory unit atop it hummed softly as he set it down.
His eyes blinked in the fresh air as the seal broke.
Brendon sat in a low armchair in the living area of their loft apartment. Dust and the musky smell of drying washing mixed with an overflowing trash can hung heavy in the air. The layout was open plan. High ceilings with high windows bathed the entire place in light. The building had originally been a flour store but had probably lived longer as an apartment block for hipsters by now.
The place had been Grace's, she'd poured herself into it. Muted browns, beige fabrics, reclaimed leather. Now it was dust and decay. Only stems remained where flowers once bloomed. Plates sat in the sink. The smell hung thick and stale.
Brendon checked the charge on his headset then leaned over and placed it on the heavy oak coffee table in front of him. He plugged in the charging cable from the table's center console.
He slouched back in the chair and looked around. He couldn't stand it being so quiet, "Alexa! Play some Chillout music."
"Sure, playing Chillout music now." Some ersatz sunset chill playlist spun on. Brendon took a deep breath and stood.
He needed a coffee and some food.
He walked over to the kitchen island and pulled a coffee mug from the sink. He gave it a quick rinse and slid it under the coffee machine. Pulled a couple of empty pod boxes off the shelf until he finally found one that contained an Arabica number nine and dropped it in the top. He waited for the light to stop flashing and then hit go. He watched the cup fill halfway and then opened the fridge.
He sampled slices of ham and cheese from their packets as he slapped a pile of both on a plate. Finally, he buttered a couple of pieces of wholemeal loaf that were borderline stale, grabbed his full cup of coffee, and walked over to the round dining table by one of the big windows.
He added a couple of squeezes of hot sauce and slowly munched on the final elements of his deconstructed sandwich and sipped his coffee. He stared out of the window at the buildings across the way and the street below. Time passed, and then his watch vibrated. Another notification, this time a thirty-minute reminder for his meeting with Riley.
He slow-motioned in his chair and took out his phone. He scrolled to the invite in his calendar and looked at the location. Some place he'd never heard of. It was called the Elysian Quarter. Sounded fancy. He needed an invite to get in. He would have to catch the metro to the entry gate.
He needed to get ready.
He picked up his coffee and plate, and dropped them into the sink on his fly-past back towards the armchair. He sat down, took out his phone from his pocket, and this time navigated to the Cyberdome app. Facial recognition let him in, and he selected the only jumping-off point available to him, "My User Space."
He unplugged the charging cable from his headset and put it on his head. He slowly shifted it down over his eyes, adjusting some bits of the padding. He made sure the sensory unit was in roughly the right place and then bobbed his head side to side to make sure the thing wouldn't loosen or come off. Once he was in, he wouldn't be able to feel anything, so making sure everything was comfortable now prevented sores and bruises later. Once settled, he flicked the switch on the side, then sat back and braced himself.
His session started in darkness and silence. The Cyberdome logo faded in, then out. When his eyes opened, he was lying in his User Space, a small, sterile room with a single bed. He sat up, disoriented for a moment, then checked his Console display, a simple rectangular orange readout that glowed from underneath his skin. He had thirty minutes to get to the Elysian Quarter.
He slid open one of the doors to the wardrobe and was presented with a single wire coat hanger dangling limply on a long rail. On it was a green bomber-style jacket, white t-shirt and black trousers. Directly underneath were black sneakers with black socks tucked into the tops of them. Brendon picked up the hanger.
There was a rectangular cardboard flyer hooked over it, "Upgrade Now and Enjoy Infinite Clothing Options!" Underneath the words were pictures of flamboyantly dressed men and women laughing and whooping over a huge pile of, "Clothing Options!" The most prominent model was a render of Brendon, younger, fitter, and dressed in a stylish jacket and jeans combo. An enthralled blonde in a cocktail dress hanging off his arm, sensually stroking his lapel. He got dressed.
In the next room was the living space.
A small seating area with a two-seater sofa, a small armchair and rectangular coffee table. No rug. The furniture was plain and not designed for comfort. On the coffee table a large cardboard cutout stood upright offering "20% off at Home Depot when you upgrade your subscription." A mere $5750 a month.
Brendon didn't use Cyberdome much, so he had never bothered to upgrade. He preferred immersive video renders that came as default with his V.R. headset. This enabled him to generate V.R. experiences from video clips captured on his phone. It had helped him get over things the past couple of years.
Behind the living space was a small kitchenette with fridge, cooker and microwave, all built in the same utilitarian style. The whole thing wasn't on much more of a footprint than a large hotel room, but the one thing it had going for it was the view.
It was on the 75th floor of one of several tower blocks that were on an archipelago outside of the main city hub. It meant Brendon and all the other free users that were filed away there always had to trek into the main strip, but on the upside, it meant that they got a view of the cityscape you couldn't get anywhere else.
He was fortunate that his unit occupied a corner on the western side of the building, allowing for an uninterrupted view. He opened the veranda door and took a step out onto the balcony. The breeze was tropical and soothing. He closed his eyes and soaked it in. In front of him, the sprawling cityscape went up and down the coast in both directions.
It was a merging of Dubai, Shanghai, New York and Miami into one massive sprawl. Glorious sunshine, turquoise seas. Speedboats, helicopters and yachts. In the far distance mountains and forests were just about visible through a haze. He drank it in for a little while and then went back inside. He grabbed some keys from a bowl on the kitchen counter and strode to the door.
The lock mechanism clicked softly as he passed the threshold, but he didn't turn back to engage it. His hand was already on the frame, his mind already three steps ahead—or nowhere at all, he couldn't tell which. The door swung shut behind him with a hollow pneumatic hiss.
Through the plain empty lobby and out onto the street.
He walked out of the complex and towards the main boulevard that plugged into the city. He had no car so he would have to use the free city transport. He walked in the direction of the Metro Station.
The boulevard was on a long straight highway that drove all the way into the Hub. Four lanes, cut by a grass verge with magnificent palm trees at an even spacing. The pavement was wide and comfortable too. More pedestrians than usual today. It was early evening, and the sun was just beginning to set. He felt his pockets and pulled out a pair of cheap looking sunglasses.
Most of the people out on foot were dressed the same as Brendon. Spendthrifts looking for a night out at some of the free bars and clubs in the Hub.
Brendon trotted down the steps into the Metro and paced to the platform. A train was just pulling in. The metro had a few lines that crisscrossed each other in different directions. He was heading north, up the coast to a Sector he'd never been to called Narrindar Falls. As he sat in the almost empty carriage he studied the map above. No changes, eight stops.
Fifteen minutes later he was there.
He walked out of the station and checked the map on his phone.
This sector was far quieter than the Hub. In fact, it was eerily empty. The temperature was colder with a stale dampness in the air, like a room that had been left empty for too long. No traffic on the roads and few people milling around.
It matched the style and architecture of the other sectors.
Large steel construction buildings, little character, no greenery or vegetation. He stepped off and broadly followed the direction of the blue arrow on his phone screen across the street. As he walked, he realized he couldn't see into many of the shops and restaurants he was passing. The windows were either tinted or reflective. Nothing had a name or store sign. It was a ghost town. He walked on.
His phone vibrated in his hand.
This was the place.
He faced a double-fronted shop with steps running up to a closed double doorway. It looked out of place amongst the featureless buildings that surrounded it. Two large bay windows circled outwards either side of the entrance. The window and door frames were a deep matt black and carved with intricate floral carvings that held the dark glass. Velvet grey awnings with black tassel trim topped the windows. It would have been a perfect premises for an upmarket boutique or bridal store.
Brendon ascended the stairs and opened the door gingerly. He stepped through the threshold onto a large coarse door-mat that read, "Welcome". His feet shifted and rustled.
The interior was totally incongruent with the outside.
It was an infinite empty warehouse that spanned out over the horizon in all directions. There was no visible structure supporting the metal vaulted ceiling. In all directions the space just faded into darkness.
Ahead was a simple counter and behind it stood a Sentinel.
Brendon walked towards it cautiously. The Sentinel's head cocked to the side. "Hello Brendon, welcome to The Elysian Quarter. I understand you are the guest of Mr. Riley Blake today."
Brendon nodded. "Yes."
The bot's voice was soft and friendly. "You have twelve hours here. After that, you'll need to exit via one of the available portals or your account will be flagged." Brendon's left arm vibrated. He pulled up his jacket sleeve and checked his console. A timer counting down from twelve hours had appeared.
"The Rendez Vous Café is just down the street," the Sentinel continued, gesturing toward the darkness behind the counter. "I'll send the address to your account now." Brendon's arm buzzed again. "Please go in."
Brendon nodded instinctively and started to walk cautiously, his hands in his jacket pockets, unsure what to expect. He looked back and could see the bot holding its final pose as if it had hit a glitch and frozen. As Brendon walked, a faint white line began appearing across the horizon. It began to grow, and as it did, it started to blur. The more he approached, the more the light began moving towards him, until it began to blind him. He squinted and raised his arm to block the rays, but then the glare began to dissipate. He continued walking. All of a sudden, he was standing on the sidewalk of a bustling street.
The Elysian Quarter was clearly an upmarket Community. The roads here were tighter and the buildings more individual and characterful, but it still felt artificial. Like a Las Vegas version of a historic medieval Mediterranean city. Victorian-style street lamps lined the cobblestone roads. Ancient history made from reinforced concrete and stucco boards. Contemporary technology and materials with a historic render.
The clientele was upmarket too.
The streets bustled with beautiful looking people dressed in fine, expensive clothes. Some were elegant, others more flamboyant. A woman, maneuvering an electric pushchair, strutted past him. She was six foot tall, wearing six-inch strappy yellow heels, a miniskirt, silk blouse, and wraparound sunglasses. She was striding as if on a catwalk, talking loudly in Spanish to someone through her ear pods, her baby fast asleep in the automated carriage.
Brendon encountered more characters as he made his way.
Buff men walked immaculate Afghan hounds. Women roller bladed in bikinis and ball gowns. School girls in navy blazers and tartan skirts walked diligently in neat lines. It was as if Beverly Hills or Bel Air had spawned an entire city where only the very top one percent of the world's gene pool could live.
Brendon felt self-conscious. No wonder this Community was closed off.
His Free User uniform earned him some side-glances, and he could see a couple of Sentinel Bots pick up on the disruption and start stirring in his general direction on the other side of the street. He engrossed himself in the map on his phone and paced to the restaurant.
The Rendez Vous Café was on the corner.
He rushed in through the doors and was abruptly greeted by the Maitre D'. A tall, thin man in an impeccable suit, waxed black hair and perfect pencil-thin moustache, "Can I help you?" he eyed him with palpable disgust as he looked him up and down slowly and deliberately. He had a strong French accent.
"I'm here to meet someone," stammered Brendon, taken aback. The Maitre D' raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Riley Blake," Brendon elaborated quickly. Keeping his gaze fixed on Brendon, he slowly returned to his lectern. With a long index finger, he started swiping down the register on his tablet. Then he abruptly stabbed the screen. When he looked up, his disposition had softened, but only slightly.
"Of course! Mr Blake is already here," he motioned to an adjacent waiter. "Table twenty-two. Welcome to Rendez Vous, Sir." He forced a smile at Brendon and motioned him to follow his colleague. Brendon did so, and cleared the vestibule for the more deserving party behind him. A foursome the Maitre D' was far more pleased to see.
The waiter led him through a beautiful double-height dining room decorated in a Parisian Baroque style. Powder puff blue walls were edged with gold trim. Renaissance art hung on the walls and crystal chandeliers from the ceilings. The tablecloths were a brilliant white and the silverware glistened like diamonds.
The food looked amazing. Ornate desserts with crystallised sugar domes. Racks of lamb perfectly pink. Vegetables and fruits so exquisitely ripe and vibrant that they looked too perfect to be real. Brendon stared as he was led through the maze of diners to a table in the middle of the room.
The waiter pulled out a chair.
"Brendon! How the devil are you?" Riley stood up and greeted him warmly. Brendon smiled and shook his hand. "Please, grab a seat, son." His warm southern charm filled the room. The waiter pushed the chair in behind Brendon and then elegantly whipped the napkin from the table onto his lap. Brendon assessed Riley as he sat down. A wry smile formed across his mouth.
Riley looked around twenty pounds lighter and ten years younger than he normally did in his office. His grey hair wasn't thinning here, but instead coiffed into an impressive quiff that was more Madonna than Elvis but strangely suited his face. Slight touches of dark here and there marked him out as a silver fox.
His beard was perfectly trimmed, one even length all round. He was wearing a fine dark grey polo neck and a black European cut suit. He took some time to position himself at the table. Elbows either side of the plate, hands in a steeple in front of his face. He readjusted the massive aviator-watch to make sure it was on full display.
Brendon in contrast, eased into his chair nearly slouching. While he certainly looked impressive, he wasn't quite selling it, Brendon thought. Riley wasn't at ease with himself the way someone who normally lived this way might be. His gaze was darting around, constantly checking himself. Brendon smiled to himself. Eventually his gaze landed on him, "So how have you been, Son?" Brendon slowly nodded and leant forward.
"I'm OK thanks, as well as can be." He paused and then through his smile said, "What is this?" He mapped the room with a flurry of his hand, "What are we doing here?"
"I thought you might like it. Beats meeting in the office, don't you think?" Brendon looked around and gently nodded his agreement.
"How did you even get in here? No way you're a member of this community?" Riley scowled and put his finger to his lips, killing the topic cold.
"I'm on a job, OK," He leant back and scanned the room, "Lady client wants to know what her hubby gets up to when he's in here. Figured you'd enjoy the change of scene. Maybe taste a bit of the high life, get out a bit." Riley looked at Brendon pitifully. "And besides, I'd get to expense the whole thing later." Brendon rolled his eyes. They both smirked. Brendon leaned in conspiratorially.
A waitress appeared, "Bonjour, Messieurs. Avez-vous fait votre choix pour aujourd'hui?" Riley looked at Brendon.
"You like steaks, right?"
"Sure."
"Bonjour. Je voudrais deux steaks à point, des frites, et des haricots verts en accompagnement, s'il vous plaît. Et pour boire, une bouteille de Châteauneuf-du-Pape, s'il vous plaît. Et de l'eau." She smiled, gathered up their menus and left.
"You speak French?" said Brendon, surprised but visibly suspicious.
"Not quite," confessed Riley. "I've downloaded a Persona. Swiss Banker. Comes with the accent and the wine knowledge."
Brendon had heard enough.
"So, what's new this month? Have you got anything for me?" Riley sensed the shift in tone and straightened himself up. He moved slowly in his chair, formulating what to say carefully.
He interlaced his fingers in front of his chin.
"I'm sorry, son, but there's nothing new." He looked forlorn as he said it.
Brendon's face fell. "Nothing?"
"All I could do was go over old leads again. I re-interviewed her mother—"
"And?" Brendon leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the table.
Riley shook his head. "She hasn't heard from her since she left your place over a year ago. No new information."
Brendon sat back, absorbing the blow. "What about her accounts? Credit cards, phone?"
"No activity. Nothing." Riley paused, watching Brendon's shoulders sag. "I sent out the usual alerts to all the hospitals, ER rooms, shelters, public institutions—any admissions matching her description. Cross-checked every hit against her profile."
"The police networks?" Brendon's voice was quieter now, almost pleading.
"Checked the Police and Department of Corrections. Nothing there either." Riley unclasped his hands in an open gesture. "None of her emails or other accounts have been touched."
Brendon looked away and exhaled slowly. "What about the missing persons outreach?"
Riley shook his head and sat back in his chair. "Just the usual stuff from a bunch of crazies. None of it checked out."
"What if we up the reward?" Brendon's eyes met Riley's, desperate.
Riley shook his head again, now more in frustration than sympathy. "You'll just get even more dead-end calls from crazies trying their luck. I'll have to check each lead and it'll just burn more time. It's already at fifty thousand—upping it by another ten or twenty won't move the dial, son."
"Well, what then?" Brendon's voice cracked slightly, his emotions barely held in check.
Riley leant forward and positioned himself to give some firm compassion. "Brendon, it's been nearly eighteen months since Grace left. Her trail goes cold after she left her Mum's place over a year ago." He took a beat to draw breath. "I've been doing this a long time, son. When a trail goes cold like this, for this long, it can only mean a couple of things. None of them good."
"She said she just needed some time away," Brendon countered, his voice rising. "That she'd come back, and we'd move on together. Maybe…" he trailed off.
Riley leant in closer. "Look, I know keeping me on the payroll is tough on ya. You had to remortgage to put up the bond for the reward. The online awareness campaigns, the leaflets and posters—this is bleeding you dry, son. It might be time to dial back."
Brendon sat there taking it in. Then he started shaking his head. A new look of determination formed on his face.
"No," he said. "I'm not ready… I don't care about the money. I'll sell the apartment if I have to, I don't care. I'm not going to give up on her. Her and I…" He took a breath. "We've been through terrible things together…terrible dark times, but we were beginning to climb out of them."
"I've known her my entire life, she's all I've ever known. I'm not going to give up on her until there is nothing left in me. No way." He paused, forming a conclusion in his mind. "So either you help me, or I have to find someone else." He fixed Riley with a stare.
The food arrived.
Two waiters swooped in and placed two plates with huge elaborate cloche domes on top.
In an acrobatic display they both lifted them in perfect synchronicity. The steam and the smell from the food whipped up from the plates, while another waitress delivered the sides of greens and creamed spinach.
Brandon and Riley sat silently as the serving team made their final touches and dispersed. Riley stroked his beard.
After a short while he spoke.
"Alright, I'll keep looking for ya Son. I'll try to think of something we haven't tried yet, but let's take it week by week okay?" He could see that this was making Brandon feel better, as he was nodding a shallow approval but still not saying anything. His expression unchanged. Riley raised his glass of wine, "Then we'll take another look at the end of next month. Deal?" Slowly Brandon reached for his glass.
"OK," he said flatly.