Molly Fyde and the Land of Light (The Bern Saga #2)

Molly Fyde and the Land of Light (The Bern Saga #2) Page 27

Molly looked to her friends. Cole shrugged. Walter gazed longingly down the row of compartments; he looked ready to move in.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” she told Stanley, pulling Walter away from whatever he was thinking.

Stanley swiped them through the glass barrier as yet another group filed out another elevator. It was one of the same clusters they’d seen on the balcony below. The other Stanley held the adjacent elevator door open for Molly’s group.

“Thank you, Stanley.”

“Of course, Stanley.”

Molly waved to the touring family, then heard a commotion to her other side. She turned and saw that Walter had walked right into the other group’s Stanley, dropping his video game and hissing with alarm.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized for her friend. “He doesn’t watch where he’s going.”

“Not a problem,” the Stanley assured her, straightening his jacket. Walter grabbed his game and hurried inside the elevator while Cole and Molly exchanged an embarrassed glance.

Their Stanley was all smiles, artificial yet sincere. He swiped his card to keep the tour moving, and the doors slid shut on the group outside.

The other Stanley stood at the glass barrier to expansion phase four, patting his jacket and apologizing profusely to his group.

••••

“The visitation and guest suites,” Stanley announced. The elevator doors dinged open, and they stepped out into a grand, carpeted lobby. Plush furnishings and chandeliers dominated the space. Elegant columns pretended to do something structural with the ceiling. Paneled walls and detailed moldings adorned everything, signifying class and wealth.

It wasn’t a Drenard prison cell by any stretch, but it was awfully nice.

A dozen Stanleys strolled purposefully in every direction, almost always accompanied by a guest or two. People and aliens lounged on the furniture with electronic readers, a reminder to Molly of the one she’d lost on Palan and still hadn’t replaced. A Stanley behind the registration counter directed a group, pointing down a hall and giving directions through a broad smile.

Walter’s eyes were as wide as Molly had ever seen them.

“Remind you of the Regal Hotel back home?” she asked him.

“Not even closse,” he whispered.

Stanley led them to the registration desk. “Fyde, party of three,” he said.

“Of course. Excellent,” the seated Stanley said. “We have two guests on the West wing, suite thirty-eight, and one visitor—a Molly Fyde?” he searched their faces until Molly nodded. “Of course,” the Stanley said. “You will be in visitation room twelve.” He smiled and held out his hand. “Passes, please.”

They each fumbled for their passes, and the Stanley swiped them through his computer. The two Stanleys smiled at one another before their Stanley waved them out of the crowded lobby and down a lushly carpeted hall.

“Hey, Stanley,” Cole said, “I have a question.”

“Absolutely, my dear man. Ask away.”

“Why did Dr. Dakura decide to put people’s personalities and memories in barrels of fiber-optic cable when he has such good android technology? I mean, no offense meant, but your model is really impressive, and you would think—”

Stanley turned on the group, cutting off Cole’s question. “Suite thirty-eight,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”

Walter insisted on using his card to open the door, his delighted hiss providing a fitting sound effect as the passage slid open. Molly giggled to herself.

Stanley waved them inside what appeared to be a lovely and large hotel room and turned to Cole. “Excellent question, my good boy, superb. It’s no secret that our work here is being done alongside an even grander project below—”

“The canisters?”

“No, my boy. Below the moon. On Dakura. We have begun a very long and expensive project there—funded primarily by LIFE—to terraform the planet into a custom-made paradise.” He grabbed a small device off the suite’s kitchen counter and pointed it toward the wall opposite the beds. A video projection flashed up.

Stanley worked his way through a few menus while Walter threw himself onto one of the beds and made a pile out of the pillows. “Thiss iss like Drenard!” he told the room.

A video began playing; Stanley handed the remote to Cole.

“Watch this,” he suggested. “It’s all about the future of Dakura and our expansion plans to offer a different kind of afterlife.” He addressed Molly. “Upgrades will be offered to our existing clients first, of course. And we are already scouting other planets that could be purchased cheaply and set aside for future phases.

“Now, while you catch up on that, I am going to get Ms. Fyde situated. Room service menus are on the table if you’re hungry. Everything will be credited to your Unlimited LIFE account.”

Molly and Cole exchanged a look. She waved, nodded her head, then followed Stanley back to the lobby and down a different hallway.

“Will my mother know who I am?” she asked Stanley.

“Why, of course she will. She has already been notified of your visitation.”

“Yeah, but—it’s been a long time. I mean, I was only a few months old when she last saw me.”

“Not quite three months,” he said. “Don’t worry. We have visitors all the time that have never met nor known their relatives.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Usually here begging for money, if I can be so blunt.”

Molly thought about what she was here to do.

It gave her a shiver.

“Visitation room twelve,” Stanley said, waving her toward a door. Molly swiped her card, and the passage opened without any of Walter’s sound effects.

They entered a room very similar to the one they had recently departed—same color scheme, same tasteful fabrics. However, unlike the suite where Cole and Walter were likely wrestling over the remote, this room was much smaller and only had a single cluster of furniture. They formed an arrangement in the center of the room: a lush chair, a matching ottoman, and a metal table. The last was covered with expensive-looking gadgets that gleamed in the light from the suspended chandelier.

Molly followed Stanley as he led her to the chair. As she got closer, she noticed the IV stand behind the chair, from which hung a full bag of fluids.

“Please sit,” Stanley said, sweeping one arm through the air.

“What’s with the IV?” she asked.

“Oh, you shouldn’t be needing that. It’s for our clients who wish to have an extended stay with their loved ones. Of course, if you change your mind, your unlimited account would allow us to move you into a long-stay visitation room. Entirely up to you, of course.”

Molly shook her head. “Uh, no. Thanks. I probably won’t even need the three hours, to be honest. I’m not even sure what to say to her.”

“That’s every visitor’s biggest fear. Trust me, it goes smoothly. The time will whiz by faster than you will want it to.”

“You’re probably right. But, no needles, okay?”

“Of course, of course. Now, please, do sit.”

She settled into the chair and Stanley scooted the ottoman toward her. Lifting her legs, she let them fall to the padded surface of the stool. The chair was extremely comfortable, but only physically. It reminded Molly of the yearly dental checks the Navy used to subject her to, the thought of which made her stomach feel hollow.

Stanley lifted an object from the tray and held it reverently, both palms up and perfectly flat. A thin wire spooled off the back of the device as he raised it to her head. Molly was reminded of the red Drenard bands as Stanley fit the hoop in place. He stepped back to survey his handiwork.

“Excellent,” he said. “As soon as you are ready, I will begin the visitation. Your mother should be expecting you. If you decide to leave early, just exit by using the door you enter through. Also, some of our clients can be quite insistent that their visitors stay longer, so if your time runs out, we will simply bring you back ourselves.”

He reached to the side of the chair and brought up a padded strap, placing it over Molly’s wrist.

“Wait.” Molly shifted her arm out of the way. “What’s that?”

“Oh, this is for your safety. The visit will be indistinguishable from reality. When you move your arms and legs, they will often try to comply here. These are simply to make you as comfortable as you can be.” Stanley smiled at her, the flesh-colored plastic folding unnaturally at the corners of his mouth.

Molly attempted to smile back, and likely did it just as convincingly. “I think I’d be more comfortable without them.”

“Trust me, Ms. Fyde. You wouldn’t be. They are very comfortable. Now, lay your head back and relax.”

Molly shifted herself a little and pressed her head back into the chair. Stanley secured her wrists and ankles with the straps. His face hovered close to hers as he fastened a padded belt across her chest, the smooth skin on his face poreless and plasticy up close.

“Excellent,” he said, stepping back. “Now, when you are ready—”

“I’m ready,” she lied.

The frozen smile returned as Stanley reached for something on the small table beside her. He held it up and moved to press a button.

That image—a robot in a nice suit pressing a small device—burned itself into Molly’s brain.

It was the last thing she would ever see of the room.

25

A wall of wood appeared directly in front of her, so close she could see the rise and fall between the grain. It swung away from her, and as soon as more light spilled across it, she recognized it for an old-fashioned door.

Molly squinted into the light that poured through.

Natural sunlight.

She reached out with one hand, guiding the door all the way open, and stepped through.

She stood on a porch. Below her bare feet, she felt the rough ridges of poorly milled planks. A flimsy-looking rail stood before her, beyond which lay a grassy lawn crowded with people.

Children. The ages varied, but they were all female. Light-colored dresses trailed behind several as they chased one another and squealed with delight. Another cluster sat on the grass, laughing. Ringing the large lawn was a collection of similar houses, their doors squeaking open and banging as children flew through them with more chirps of delight and laughter.

Molly scanned the crowd, looking for her mom. She moved to the railing and leaned out into the bright sun. It all looked and felt so real. She could smell the grass, could feel the cool wind on her cheeks. Something fluttered against her thighs; she looked down the front of a bright yellow dress, just like the others wore.

She’d entered a dream, only more vivid and solidly consistent.

A thrill grew in her with the weather and the sounds of so much joy. She felt her mission slipping away, replaced with an immediate fondness for this place. Nostalgia constricted her throat, choking her, but in a good way.

She knew this place. Memories, long forgotten, tried to make themselves known—

“Mollie?”

She turned, searching for the source of the voice. On the porch of the neighboring house stood a woman, cradling a cloth bundle. A baby. Molly ran down the steps of one porch, through the bright green grass, and vaulted over the steps leading up to her mother. She found herself giggling and smiling and leaving a wake of fluttering yellow, just like the other kids.

Rushing into her mother’s embrace, careful of the baby, she cried out: “Mom!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Her mother held her with one arm, rubbing it up and down her back. It felt alien and normal at the same time.

“I’m so glad you’ve come to visit.” Her mother pulled away and looked to the other porch with bright, brown eyes Molly recognized as her own. Her cheeks, sprinkled with a constellation of faded freckles, rose up in cheerful bunches atop a smile. Her mom looked so young—full, wavy hair hung down past her shoulders and wrapped around her thin, flawless neck.

“Is your father here?” her mother asked.

“No, Mom. Dad couldn’t make it.”

“Oh well, not surprising.” Parsona took a step toward the edge of the porch and called, “Mollie!” into the crowd of girls. A single child turned her head before rushing over to her mother. She was one of the older children, ten or eleven years old.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Will you hold Mollie for me while I visit with my daughter?”

“I would love to!” she squealed, cradling the bundle carefully and skipping back down the steps.

Molly watched her go, then asked her mom: “Are they all named Mollie?”

“Every one. Your father and I just adore that name.”

Molly turned and saw one of her mother’s hands rubbing a swollen belly. She looked back to the lawn. “How many of them are there?”

“The next one will be number thirty two. They come even faster now, which makes me happy.” She gestured to a swing set tucked in one corner of the yard. “Would you like to swing?”

Molly laughed. “I’m a little big for that, Mom.”

Parsona nodded. She turned toward the end of the porch where a double swing hung on the end of two chains.

It hadn’t been there before.

Molly took its appearance in stride and thought of Stanley’s encouragement. This certainly was more natural than she’d hoped.

But then, she hadn’t gotten to the hard part yet.

They crossed to the porch swing and sat together, their dresses folding over each other in the soft breeze. Parsona pushed them back and forth with her long legs, and a comfortable silence grew as they watched the children play in the grass. Molly recognized the scene; she felt like she’d played there herself in the few good dreams she’d had.