An isolated coast The Hotel provided Gliders for the use of guests, though there was an unmentioned quality assessment in there: guests staying in rooms that cost less than NH3,000 a night didn't have access to the roof terrace where the Gliders were parked, and those paying less than NH6,000 would be asked for a security deposit in terms that suggested it was non-refundable. Neither of these was a problem for Verity. She looked over them all before picking out a teal-coloured one and picking the key-card from a board by the supervisor's desk. The colour seemed oddly familiar. "It matches your eyes," she said, a smile appearing on her face for the first time that morning. The cars were a mixture of anti-gravity and electrical technologies: it lifted off like a VTOL, as smoothly and silently as if a giant hand had just picked it up; the motor whined briefly as they cycled up to speed and beyond the range of hearing after that, and then the ground seemed to race beneath us as we curved across the city and out towards the horizon. Beige and white buildings thinned out and became lower as we moved away from the centre and more trees and parks began to appear. "Ankashara," said Verity. "On the coast," I replied after thinking. I'd speed read the fact-book on Piyathak two mornings ago and the information hadn't really settled down yet. I made a mental note to re-read it, maybe take a bath and some time to understand it. "There was an accident there ten years ago," said Verity. "There was an exotic matter facility there." "Containment failed?" "That was the story." Verity touched controls on the Glider and the glassy surfaces darkened slightly, taking on a sepia tint and the heat from the sun noticeably reduced. Below us the houses had almost vanished now and the greens and brown of the countryside were dominant. "There was no reason back them for it to be anything else. Now... there's new evidence that it might have been sabotage. A woman, plea-bargaining against tax-evasion charges, claims that an ex-lover told her that were plans to use the exotic matter to open a new wormhole here." She tilted her head back, stared at the ceiling. "Why is always mundane shit like tax-evasion?" "The world is more banal that we'd like to think," I said. "But practically everything's banal to you, Verity. What's on the coast now?" "Nothing. It's as isolated as you can get; people are afraid that it's contaminated." "Half-life of exotic matter-" "Is less than 30 nano-seconds. I know. But... to go with the banality of it all there's superstition and believing what your neighbour tells you instead of what science does." There was a moment of silence. She turned her head and looked at me. "Why are you smiling?" she asked. "The bonfire of the vanities," I said, my smile turning to laughter. "What are we doing here, Verity?"
Greg - so pleased to see you've continued this. The back and forth between these two is still spot on here, with an intriguing destination approaching. Quite like the talk of banality in particular :)
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An isolated coast
The Hotel provided Gliders for the use of guests, though there was an unmentioned quality assessment in there: guests staying in rooms that cost less than NH3,000 a night didn't have access to the roof terrace where the Gliders were parked, and those paying less than NH6,000 would be asked for a security deposit in terms that suggested it was non-refundable. Neither of these was a problem for Verity. She looked over them all before picking out a teal-coloured one and picking the key-card from a board by the supervisor's desk. The colour seemed oddly familiar.
"It matches your eyes," she said, a smile appearing on her face for the first time that morning.
The cars were a mixture of anti-gravity and electrical technologies: it lifted off like a VTOL, as smoothly and silently as if a giant hand had just picked it up; the motor whined briefly as they cycled up to speed and beyond the range of hearing after that, and then the ground seemed to race beneath us as we curved across the city and out towards the horizon. Beige and white buildings thinned out and became lower as we moved away from the centre and more trees and parks began to appear.
"Ankashara," said Verity.
"On the coast," I replied after thinking. I'd speed read the fact-book on Piyathak two mornings ago and the information hadn't really settled down yet. I made a mental note to re-read it, maybe take a bath and some time to understand it.
"There was an accident there ten years ago," said Verity. "There was an exotic matter facility there."
"Containment failed?"
"That was the story." Verity touched controls on the Glider and the glassy surfaces darkened slightly, taking on a sepia tint and the heat from the sun noticeably reduced. Below us the houses had almost vanished now and the greens and brown of the countryside were dominant. "There was no reason back them for it to be anything else. Now... there's new evidence that it might have been sabotage. A woman, plea-bargaining against tax-evasion charges, claims that an ex-lover told her that were plans to use the exotic matter to open a new wormhole here." She tilted her head back, stared at the ceiling. "Why is always mundane shit like tax-evasion?"
"The world is more banal that we'd like to think," I said. "But practically everything's banal to you, Verity. What's on the coast now?"
"Nothing. It's as isolated as you can get; people are afraid that it's contaminated."
"Half-life of exotic matter-"
"Is less than 30 nano-seconds. I know. But... to go with the banality of it all there's superstition and believing what your neighbour tells you instead of what science does."
There was a moment of silence. She turned her head and looked at me.
"Why are you smiling?" she asked.
"The bonfire of the vanities," I said, my smile turning to laughter. "What are we doing here, Verity?"
Greg - so pleased to see you've continued this. The back and forth between these two is still spot on here, with an intriguing destination approaching. Quite like the talk of banality in particular :)
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