at my disposal was
still a relatively new experience, and I had to admit, at first it
was a little exciting. It was how I imagined Hollywood stars or
British Royalty living – not having to lift a finger for anything.
But over the course of the last three months, the novelty of having
my doors opened and my belongings carted around was beginning to
wear off. It started to make me feel more like a feeble toddler
than a powerful multi-billionaire. “Not a problem, I can
handle—”
“Right up the
stairs and in the back rooms,” Valentina interjected, pointing a
thumb behind her.
Without any
further instruction Chandler wobbled up the stairs as fast as his
stubby legs would carry him.
After loading
up the transport and we’d taken our seats, Chandler instructed us
to buckle our seatbelts. Valentina protested, but there was no
arguing with him – it was regulation. When he was satisfied that
we’d followed protocol, he taxied us across the tarmac and into the
main lobby; a pristine, marble-floored space that looked more like
the set of a science fiction movie than an actual room. Pencil-thin
blue lights ran across the stark white walls, intersecting and
diverging in intricate patterns. Small robotic cleaning devices
chirped and hummed, dusting and polishing every square foot. It was
like Frost Tower in Manhattan, and featured much of the same
technology, with the exception of a machine I’d never seen or heard
about.
“What is that ?” Brynja shouted. As the transport came to a stop she
unbuckled her belt and jumped out of her seat.
She was staring
up at the ceiling, where a pair of orange metallic spheres were
rotating like a helicopter blade, tethered by a long grey cord. The
softball-sized devices made their descent, coming to a stop in
mid-air. They were like two oversized, pupil-less eyes, peering at
us curiously.
Chandler turned
to Brynja and motioned towards her seat. “Sit back...I mean please , sit...if you want. In the transport. Don’t be
alarmed.”
“What the hell
are these?” Valentina asked, extending her leg. She reached out and
tapped one of the floating spheres with the toe of her boot,
causing it to bob slightly, but maintain its position.
“ No ,
don’t do that...” Chandler scrambled from the driver’s seat and ran
to the device, yanking a rag from his back pocket. He frantically
polished and wiped the surface. “This is...it’s nothing to be
afraid of. She’s new. It’s new...it’s not a she, obviously , it’s a thing – things don’t have sexes. Genders,
I should have said. That would have sounded less creepy.”
“What does it do ,” I asked.
“Oh,” Chandler
replied, the heat rising in his face as he continued to polish.
“Her... it’s name is London. She’s a utility fog. I got to
name her. You know, because London is famous for the...everywhere?
In the air?” Mac, Brynja and Valentina exchanged glances, but no
one replied.
“Anyway,” he
continued, “it’s nanotech, which as you know is very cutting
edge stuff. Self-reconfigurating, completely modular...think of it
like a flying exocortex. But it doesn’t attach to you,
obviously...it’s like neuroinformatics, combined—”
“So what does
that mean in English, ” Valentina said curtly.
“It can change
shape,” I explained. “And it contains data – like a central hub for
Fortress 23, am I right?”
Chandler
gestured towards me and nodded, breathing heavily. He seemed to
have winded himself just attempting to give his explanation.
I approached
London and ran a finger along the surface of one of its spheres,
amazed by the seamless design.
“ Elevated
blood pressure, low iron, protein deficiency,” it announced in
a genial Scottish brogue. The device had a crisp female voice, with
a slightly synthesized inflection. “You also seem to have
recently recovered from surgery. Would you like a complete medical
analysis, Matthew Moxon?”
“Okay, keep
that thing away from me,” Mac said, leaning
still a relatively new experience, and I had to admit, at first it
was a little exciting. It was how I imagined Hollywood stars or
British Royalty living – not having to lift a finger for anything.
But over the course of the last three months, the novelty of having
my doors opened and my belongings carted around was beginning to
wear off. It started to make me feel more like a feeble toddler
than a powerful multi-billionaire. “Not a problem, I can
handle—”
“Right up the
stairs and in the back rooms,” Valentina interjected, pointing a
thumb behind her.
Without any
further instruction Chandler wobbled up the stairs as fast as his
stubby legs would carry him.
After loading
up the transport and we’d taken our seats, Chandler instructed us
to buckle our seatbelts. Valentina protested, but there was no
arguing with him – it was regulation. When he was satisfied that
we’d followed protocol, he taxied us across the tarmac and into the
main lobby; a pristine, marble-floored space that looked more like
the set of a science fiction movie than an actual room. Pencil-thin
blue lights ran across the stark white walls, intersecting and
diverging in intricate patterns. Small robotic cleaning devices
chirped and hummed, dusting and polishing every square foot. It was
like Frost Tower in Manhattan, and featured much of the same
technology, with the exception of a machine I’d never seen or heard
about.
“What is that ?” Brynja shouted. As the transport came to a stop she
unbuckled her belt and jumped out of her seat.
She was staring
up at the ceiling, where a pair of orange metallic spheres were
rotating like a helicopter blade, tethered by a long grey cord. The
softball-sized devices made their descent, coming to a stop in
mid-air. They were like two oversized, pupil-less eyes, peering at
us curiously.
Chandler turned
to Brynja and motioned towards her seat. “Sit back...I mean please , sit...if you want. In the transport. Don’t be
alarmed.”
“What the hell
are these?” Valentina asked, extending her leg. She reached out and
tapped one of the floating spheres with the toe of her boot,
causing it to bob slightly, but maintain its position.
“ No ,
don’t do that...” Chandler scrambled from the driver’s seat and ran
to the device, yanking a rag from his back pocket. He frantically
polished and wiped the surface. “This is...it’s nothing to be
afraid of. She’s new. It’s new...it’s not a she, obviously , it’s a thing – things don’t have sexes. Genders,
I should have said. That would have sounded less creepy.”
“What does it do ,” I asked.
“Oh,” Chandler
replied, the heat rising in his face as he continued to polish.
“Her... it’s name is London. She’s a utility fog. I got to
name her. You know, because London is famous for the...everywhere?
In the air?” Mac, Brynja and Valentina exchanged glances, but no
one replied.
“Anyway,” he
continued, “it’s nanotech, which as you know is very cutting
edge stuff. Self-reconfigurating, completely modular...think of it
like a flying exocortex. But it doesn’t attach to you,
obviously...it’s like neuroinformatics, combined—”
“So what does
that mean in English, ” Valentina said curtly.
“It can change
shape,” I explained. “And it contains data – like a central hub for
Fortress 23, am I right?”
Chandler
gestured towards me and nodded, breathing heavily. He seemed to
have winded himself just attempting to give his explanation.
I approached
London and ran a finger along the surface of one of its spheres,
amazed by the seamless design.
“ Elevated
blood pressure, low iron, protein deficiency,” it announced in
a genial Scottish brogue. The device had a crisp female voice, with
a slightly synthesized inflection. “You also seem to have
recently recovered from surgery. Would you like a complete medical
analysis, Matthew Moxon?”
“Okay, keep
that thing away from me,” Mac said, leaning
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