“There he is! Han. Han, the man of the hour! Just what the doctor ordered.”
Han spun around, buzzing harder. Man of the hour, is this for real? It was for real. Paxton Dunn emerged from behind an imposing wall of broad-leafed plants. The Dome courtyard felt more like a greenhouse or arboretum—a suspended walkway above them, simulated birdsong and suffused, thoughtful lighting creating the sense that one had stepped into another world, a new biome, an oasis in the middle of an ever-seething icy desert. Fairy lights twinkled faintly with video game surrealism, long bird calls beginning to echo through the expansive anteroom, simulated holographic dew shimmering on the leaves that bobbed out of Paxton’s way as he approached.
Years. He had waited years for this moment, anticipating how slick his palms would be, how he would hold his head high and take on a serious aspect, and try to greet the man voted smartest, no contest, with confidence. But he crumpled, letting out a snorting, goofy laugh, feeling borderline hysterical as his idol strode across the Mediterranean tiles and presented his broad, flat hand.
Han reached for it, shaking, but Paxton slapped it with a laugh of his own. “Now, this is the energy our experiment needed. Masculine energy.”
Reading Paxton’s articles and biography, Han had never expected him to have a British accent. It only made him sound more sophisticated, more impossibly out of reach. Accents on the station tended to blend together unless someone lived in one of the ethnic districts and kept speaking Spanish, or Japanese, or Korean fluently. Han didn’t think he had ever met a British person before, and certainly not one with an actual accent.
“H-Hi.” Idiot. Han tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans nervously. He was already bungling this. “It’s . . . Wow. It’s so crazy to meet you.”
“Smart kid like you? Bound to happen. I don’t take interns, but you never know. If this project wraps up nicely, maybe I’ll need some new blood around here . . .” Paxton clapped him on the shoulder and Han felt his knees wobble. This couldn’t be real. He was dreaming. He had to be dreaming. “I wanted to have a one-on-one before everyone sits down to eat. That okay with you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, obviously. Of course.”
“Fantastic. Jesus, it’s getting dark,” Paxton said, glancing up. “We better hurry. Come on. How much have you seen? Not much, right? What am I saying? You got here an hour ago, of course you haven’t seen much. How are you settling in? Oh, hey, there’s Brea. Have you met her? Come meet her.”
He talked quickly, but precisely, and with the kind of force that told Han he wasn’t necessarily meant to answer all the rapid-fire questions. With a hand still on Han’s shoulder, Paxton steered him around toward two gigantic bay doors that could be slid open to reveal a gallery, wide and airy, with a museum-like quality. An olive-skinned woman with thick, bunchy black curls clicked toward them with her right palm open and skyward. A small black cube sat on her hand, a red light flickering at its center.
“Smile!” Brea wrinkled her nose. As she came closer, Han noticed freckles dotted all over her face. She was just as pretty if not prettier than the woman who had greeted him when he arrived, Anju. And just like meeting Anju, he felt paralyzed. Han had two online girlfriends for a while, but they were just for gaming with and sometimes he would ask for raunchy pictures. The ones they sent? He knew they were just fakes pulled off the web. It didn’t bother him much, he knew they would never meet in person, and so he would never have to be disappointed that they didn’t match the photos.
“Just some arrival captures,” Brea added, closing her hand around the cube and covering the flashing light. “It’s so nice to meet you, Han.”
“Thanks,” he muttered. Everyone was so nice. Maybe it was easy to be nice in paradise. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”
He glanced up curiously at Paxton. The man. The legend. Of course he lived in isolation with a bunch of astoundingly beautiful woman. Why would he choose to do anything else?
“Brea will be handling all of our PR for the project,” Paxton explained. She wore a similar outfit to Anju’s, but Earth-sky blue, tailored, trim, a tight skirt and fitted suit jacket with no lapels. “I never allow press here, but you’re going to be one of my success stories. Everyone on Earth, on all the stations, they’re going to want to know about what we accomplish here.”
Han was already beginning to feel a little tired. He would push through it, and the snack cake had helped, but he never interfaced with real people much. Hacking his nanny Servitors to shut them up was always an option, but he wanted to impress Paxton.
“You should take the vid again,” Han told her. “I think I looked stupid.”
“Do not be silly,” she giggled. “Even if you did, we can fix it.” Brea pointed vaguely to the ceiling. “Upon arrival you were digitally scanned and uploaded into our archival system. We can tweak your expressions until they are just right. You will have final approval, naturally.”
Han blinked. “Oh.”
“You will recall it was in your NDA,” Brea chirped.
“Oh, sure. Right.”
“You’re freaking him out, Brea. Down, girl,” Paxton chuckled, then made a growling sound at her. She smiled, but it never touched her eyes. Her face looked frozen for a moment, like she was waiting for something. “We’re heading to the labs. Is Colbie there?”
“Yes, I believe she was just shutting things down for the day,” Brea replied, frowning.
“Well, shoot. Let me just ping her, then. I need things open a bit longer, want to show Han what we’re working on. He’s getting a private tour. I thought a tech head like him would appreciate it.” Paxton nudged him. “Am I right?”
“The LENG tech,” Han murmured. “You’re going to show it to me now?”
“Why not? It’s mine. I can do whatever I want with it,” said Paxton, shrugging. “Anyway, I know you’re a busy kid. We can just get your first session out of the way quick, gives you more time to hack my shit.”
Han felt all the air rush out of him. “I . . . I wouldn’t.”
“Of course you would. You’ll try. You know why? Because I would, and from everything I know about you, we’re a lot alike.”
“Y-You really think that?” Han sucked down a nervous breath, his hands wet with nervous sweat.
“I do. Come on, Han. I’ve got your dossier, you’re not just here for the program, are you? What happened with your mother was tragic, naturally you want to resolve that so you can move on with your life. But your life . . . big plans, right? Big plans that start with me?” Paxton grinned down at him, and Han could hardly believe what he was hearing, or believe his luck.
Haltingly, he nodded. “Is that bad?”
“I don’t think so,” Paxton replied, then did his best, guttural Michael Douglas voice. “I’m pulling back the curtain. I want to meet the wizard.” It was a so-so impression.
“The Game,” said Han. “That’s one of my favorite vids.”
“Mine too, Han.”
“If you two are done chitchatting, let me send Dr. Colbie an alert,” Brea said as Paxton pulled Han along and passed her. “I would not want to push dinner late, surely our guests are famished.”
“Thanks, Brea. You’re the best. Oh! And get some chicken on the menu for tonight, there’s been a change of heart.” He didn’t give further instructions, striding into the gallery off the main courtyard. Along each side, rectangular white pedestals displayed pieces of art. Some appeared ancient, others new; some, Han noticed as he drew nearer, were holographic. Down the center of the wide corridor, an ivory banquet table was . . . building itself. Halfway done, it appeared to grow from the ground up, tiny slice by tiny slice, only the faintest machine whir indicating that hidden mechanisms below the floor were hard at work.
“This is 3D printing?” Han asked, gasping. “I’ve never seen it done so quickly.”
“It’s silicate we mine from the surface, and we can recycle it, reuse it to build whatever we need,” Paxton said, sounding almost bored. “Fun little prototype, not sure it would work anywhere but on Ganymede, we can take advantage of the liquid core and magnetic field. But side projects aren’t what you’re here for, Han. Let’s go see the good stuff. This corridor is Zone Seven, but we’ll be hustling over to Zones Three and Four.”
Raising his left hand, Paxton tapped his VIT screen. “You can follow along on the map if you want. I bet you’ve already changed all your settings and icons and tried to dig around in our system, yeah?”
Han felt his cheeks glow. He was there to impress the guy, not just suck up. “No, not yet.”
“Ha.” Paxton threw back his head and laughed, gleeful. “Nice. Here, we’re taking that black door on your right.”
They skirted along the outside edge of the pedestals and where the table was being printed. High above, a dozen or so cables held an avant-garde chandelier over their heads, shards of pink and blue and purple glass arranged like a sprawling amethyst cave crystal. Paxton only had to walk near the black door he had pointed out before and it hissed open for them. Judging by the scan Han had undergone upon landing on Ganymede, he assumed every door and zone in the facility automatically detected privileges, gatekeeping access for staff and keeping the patients out of sensitive areas. Those were tricky systems to fool or work around, but Han made a mental note to try later anyway.
He was beginning to think of his time there like a test. If he could pull off something truly remarkable, a feat of hacking or programming that impressed even Paxton Dunn, maybe the mogul would consider keeping him on.
This is an audition, he thought. Don’t blow it, don’t be lame, be the kind of guy Paxton Dunn would want as a friend.
The jitters in his hands hadn’t calmed down yet. Paxton Dunn guided him through the much tighter hallways of what looked to be administrative offices. They were open plan, but still far less airy and grand than the Dome courtyard and the corridor linked to it. Cool blue tones set the feeling of being deep underwater, as if they weren’t on Ganymede at all but wandering through a dark ocean submersible.
A farther black door waited beyond those desks and chairs and blue glass cubicles, and yet another tall, pretty woman was emerging from it. That door was different, huge and circular, carbon black, with a big spinning lock like the kind in Old West vids.
“Dr. Colbie!” Paxton crowed, spinning briefly to look at Han with what the boy could only describe as a “can you believe my life?” smirk. “I assume you got Brea’s alert?”
“I did, however this is all a bit irregular . . .” She closed the massive door behind her and stood poised there as if to guard the way. Dr. Colbie looked like she would fit right in with the NC-17 arcade AR experiences back on the station. Han had only tried and failed twice to hack a VIT ID to enter. White-blond, long hair had been pulled into a severe bun on the top of her head, her lips painted coral red. Two razor-sharp black wings swooped out from her denim-blue eyes.
“This is Han.” Paxton stepped behind him, putting both hands on his shoulders. Han couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced this much physical contact with other humans.
“It’s . . . it’s a pleasure to meet you, Han.” Dr. Colbie sighed and managed a quick, impatient smile. “I didn’t think LENG would be used today, Paxton. Even for demonstration purposes I like to be warned about these things ahead of time.”
“That’s really great,” Paxton replied dismissively. “Super. I’m your boss, though, and my authority is absolute, as you well know, so I’m going to take Han in there and LENG will be juiced up and ready to go, won’t it?”
Dr. Colbie leaned back against the door, her affect suddenly flat and cold, though she seemed to subtly glare at her boss. “It’s primed.”
“Good.” Paxton brightened instantly and walked Han forward until Dr. Colbie was forced to move out of the way. “Very good. You can monitor from your station, just to make sure us boys don’t get up to too much mischief.”
He almost missed Dr. Colbie’s roll of the eyes and the huff she made as she strode by them. His attention had been drawn to the circular vault door she abandoned. Something pulsed behind it. An energy. A presence. Paxton pushed on his shoulders but he couldn’t move. His feet had become lead, and a force drew on him, pulling as if it could suck him through the floor and into Ganymede’s molten iron core.
The pressure on his shoulders eased but he still felt glued to the ground. He trembled. Paxton walked around him, and as he drew near, the black door opened. There was only more darkness beyond. Han looked into it, and it was dense, murky, thick with . . . something. The word occurred to him again. Presence.
“It’s just a chair and an IV,” Paxton laughed, gesturing him forward. “I promise.”
Han had seen a vid once about a pair of circus brothers on Earth. They had built striped tents and packed elephants and tigers and tightrope walkers inside. From the outside, nobody could guess the wonders that one tent contained. He remembered a specific moment—one of the brothers stood outside, peeling the tent flap open, leering with excitement and knowledge as he plucked off his big weird hat and bowed, and beckoned the viewer inside.
Just a chair and an IV.
This was the smartest man, unanimously voted, in the universe. Han wasn’t about to hesitate in front of him. Something in the darkness behind Paxton moved, but Han put one foot in front of the other and went beyond the door.
As soon as it closed behind him, he wished he hadn’t.