Explorations 3.5

Explorations 3.5

A note from the author:

This story is a work of fiction. All people, events, and specific places exist only in my mind and on these pages. Events portrayed are between consenting adults over the age of eighteen. Although it sets a label for the theme of this story, the title "Explorations" primarily refers to the exploration of scenes in my imagination and my ability to translate those into a story that can be understood and enjoyed.

This short story may make no sense to those who have not read Explorations 1.0, 2.0, and 3.0 and know the characters and events involved. If you haven't read them, please do so before continuing.

Some of you may be confused or unhappy with the developments in 3.0. Be assured that the arc of the story does have a destination and that I will give you the resolution in Explorations 4.0.

Thanks for reading.

Chapter One.

Hurried footsteps clacked noisily on polished marble. The woman wore smart business attire, befitting her social standing and position at The Brule Corporation. Her clothes were akin to a kimono, with the arms, shoulders, and collar cut like a formal suit jacket. The deep red fabric had a sheen that seemed to glow in the indirect full-spectrum lighting. Floral patterns of pink and yellow moved slowly across the fabric like blossoms in the wind.

She stopped in front of a polished metal door, which whooshed aside at the press of a button. She stepped forward into a small room, and the door whooshed shut. She placed her hand on a black glass panel set into the wall beside the door, and it lit up. The panel scanned her bio-metrics and displayed her identity and itinerary.

Bradshaw, Layla A

Company Rank: A12

Department: Office of Executive Management

Social Credit: 97%

Assigned to Project Tapestry

Destination: Executive Suite Level 329

She removed her hand, and the lift surged into an upwards motion. The panel now displayed two numbers. One was the level counter, its numbers changing fast as the lift rose. The other was the G counter, which moved more sedately. Its number displayed the local effect of Brule station's spin gravity as a percentage of a standard G. The Ground level of the massive structure held a steady one G, that is, one hundred percent of standard Earth gravity. The lift chimed unobtrusively to warn its passenger of the imminent arrival at her destination. Up here 'in the clouds' as they say, the gravity was only eighty-five percent of a G.

The lift chimed again, the doors whooshed open, then closed behind her. She strode confidently across the plush red carpet.

It didn't matter how many times she had been up here; she always thought it was breathtaking. Beyond the short hallway from the lift was a spacious office. The trappings of the excessively wealthy adorned the walls that were paneled with genuine wood. Equally extravagant pieces of furniture were scattered around in a casual way that only months of planning and meetings by overpaid interior designers could accomplish.

This office, as posh and ostentatious as it is, couldn't hold a candle to the view. The curving exterior walls were floor-to-ceiling windows, and beyond them was Brule station in all its glory.

The station was a massive O'Neill Cylinder, twenty kilometers across and one hundred kilometers long. From here, near the southern end cap, the vast expanse of the interior extended away, with the opposite end cap a disc made blurry by distance. There was no horizon. Instead, the ground curved upwards from the left and right, meeting far above. Forests, lakes, rivers, and entire towns were minuscule features swallowed by an ocean of lush green farmland.

To put the scale of the station in perspective, the inside surface area was slightly larger than the State of Massachusetts. With three million acres of arable land, crop rotation, and a year-long growing season, Brule station fed not only its own five million residents but also about twenty million more people living on hundreds of smaller stations in the outer solar system.

Every time Layla saw this view, she felt humbled and inspired. She lived within Mankind's most outstanding achievement, an impossible thing of science fiction lore, made real. The sight made her feel that anything was possible, and hadn't she overcome the impossible in her life already? To think that a low-born farm girl, whose parents and grandparents had toiled their lives away in the soil, could rise to where she was on her ability was impossible. Yet, here she was.

She allowed herself a small smile as she turned her attention away from the windows and to the man seated at the ornate mahogany desk. Though she was standing less than ten feet directly in front of him, he had not noticed her, absorbed as he was in something on his ocular overlay. His stubby fingers swiped and made gestures in the air as he manipulated things only he could see.

The man was of indeterminate age. By physical appearance, he could be in his fifties. Still, with the latest generation of life-extension treatments available to the extremely wealthy, he could be a hundred years old or more.

His expression was piggish, with flush round cheeks and dark beady eyes. Layla noticed how he filled his oversized chair and how his tailored suit seemed to be straining to hold back the expansion of his bulk. Layla idly thought about what word could describe him best. Obese was surely appropriate. Corpulent, yes, that seemed more fitting. They meant the same thing, but corpulent sounds like it also implies a certain decadence that certainly applied. "How many farmers work their fingers to the bone to fill your plate?" She wondered to herself.

With a start akin to a small earthquake, the man finally became aware of her presence. He waved an arm broadly, swiping away whatever he had been working on.

"Ah! Miss," He paused for a split second as he read her digital ID tag. "Bradshaw. What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, Director Hawthorne. I'm afraid we have a problem."

"Oh dear, more staffing concerns?" He said, almost succeeding in concealing his condescension.

"There has been a software glitch."

This statement sobered him up, and he gave her his full attention. The Tapestry Project didn't have software glitches. It was unthinkable.

"What kind of glitch?"

"We are still analyzing. There are two test subjects involved. The first was a female who died in the simulation, then upon rejoining, began to assume her previous simulated identity." With a mental command, Layla passed the subject's file to Hawthorne's implant.

"I didn't think that was possible. Every new run begins at birth, a clean slate, so to speak. Were there complications in the integration process?"

Integration, as the term implied, was when a subject left the simulation, and the accumulated memories from within the simulation were integrated into the subject's mind by the Tapestry software. There had never been any complications in the process for any of the millions of test subjects in all the years that Project Tapestry had been running, even when subjects went through the simulation over and over.

"We don't believe so. It seemed as though an echo of the previous identity had remained in her pod's buffer. I have been assured by the technicians assigned to this event that it is also impossible."

"You said there were two. What happened to the second one?"

"The second subject, who was involved with the first within the simulation, seems to have been able to initiate an exit sequence on his own."

This shocked Director Hawthorne. "An exit sequence? From the inside?"

Although Project Tapestry is dedicated to research and recreation, the roots of the technology originated from the need to efficiently incarcerate prisoners. The architecture of the system did not allow any control to the minds within it, or for that matter, any awareness of their existence as being wholly simulated.

"Who is the second subject?" Hawthorne asked. The shadow of fear began to cloud his face.

"That is, of course, why I came here in person." Layla paused, feeling no small amount of fear herself. Big things were about to happen as important people scrambled to figure out what went wrong and how to save themselves from the consequences. "The second subject is Governor Brule."

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The story continues in Explorations 4.0