by B A Vonsik
“Fields . . . electro . . . magnetic fields surround this place.” Aren gave a subdued wave of his hand at the busy vehicle welcome plaza of a well illuminated high-rise building across the road to their left. The Risen Cove Hotel name displayed boldly in glowing blue holographic letters above the plaza. Higher above light-colored quadlifter transports sounding as hives of bees with flashing lights, flew repeating paths as they went to and from the roof ferrying people.
“Everyone . . . speak only of trivial matters as we pass the hotel,” Dunkle cautioned the group.
No one spoke as Dunkle and Miller led them on a walkway paralleling the road and roundabout plaza. At their right, blue villas separated them from the crowded lagoon beyond. Ahead, increasingly thick crowds, mixed with natural and non-natural skin and hair colors and dressed in their favorite character costumes, some holographically projected, of heroes and superheroes, hindered their way as they approached holographic welcome and marketing ads in front of sliding glass doors giving access to a covered walkway attached to the exterior of the hotel. Nikki felt increasingly uncomfortable being surrounded by so many people who appeared to be GENANCING . . . genetically changing and enhancing themselves. Her uncertainty of the GENANCING was confirmed accurate after being brushed up against several times by orange- and green-colored skin cosplayers, and not getting paint rubbed off on her.
Dunkle didn’t hesitate to pass through the sliding glass doors causing a synthetic beep to sound off and a natural-sounding voice to speak. “Security Scan complete. Welcome, Isaac Edison. Your luggage has arrived by quadlifter and will be ushered to your room.”
Nikki followed Dunkle with Anders and Miller following her closely. As each of them passed through the doors, more beeps were heard as their wrist-worn PDAs projected holographic images displaying their biographical data. A genderless synthetic voice sounding much as a human spoke from somewhere near the security station.
“Security Scan complete. Welcome, Elizabeth Bathor, Thomas Veigh, and Jeffery Domanner. Your luggage has arrived by quadlifter and will be ushered to your rooms. Please find your directions, Risen Cove special events, and discounts accessible on your personal data assistants. To ensure your joyful experience, staff servants will attend to any of your needs. Please request services through your personal data assistants, at one of our android servants, at our service desk located in the main lobby, or at kiosks throughout the grounds. Welcome to the Risen Cove Hotel at the New Risen Atlantis Resort.”
Nikki looked over her holographic displayed biography to reaffirm in her mind her alias, given to her on the Wind Runner before they ferried to the Sukkal. Nikki still wasn’t certain why they needed fake identities, but she went along at Dunkle’s and Miller’s insistence. Nikki looked up from her PDA-displayed information, feeling a bit insecure. Rogaan and Aren were not with them. A wave of panic rippled through Nikki as people with blue, green, and purple skin dressed in expected skimpy attire for the warm island and those in traditional material and holographic cosplay costumes passed by her and Anders.
“What?” Anders asked her.
“Where are Rog . . . they?” Nikki replied, remembering Dunkle’s instructions to them about using true names. Quickly scanning the crowd, she found dark-haired Rogaan in his blue, red, and black armor, and platinum-haired Aren looking his part as a mystic monk in his dark-blue tunic and dinosaur hide clothing. They stood outside the sliding doors discussing something as they looked about purposefully. When they seemed to agree on whatever they talked of, Nikki felt a chill sweep through her as Aren started manifesting something she was unfamiliar of. Aren closed his eyes. Nikki felt him concentrating on . . . unclear images flashing in her mind. Concentrating on the images brought some of them into focus in her mind. She saw into Aren’s thoughts, him speeding through dynamic electromagnetic fields and along electrical pathways seeking . . . circuits filled with ones and zeros . . . binary code. The code changed so quickly, making it impossible for her to read the code even if she knew how, but she recognized it for what it was. Aren stopped at a piece of code, changing it as it continued executing. Then, he did it again in another section of code. Suddenly, the lights and holographic displays all around them started flickering, and the sliding doors stopped opening. Everyone around Nikki slowed or stopped at the flicking lights. Aren put on a pleased demeanor, then walked through the open doors with Rogaan in trail. The security system with its scanners failed to examine them or react in any way, nor did it trigger their PDAs into displaying their aliases. The pair casually joined up with Nikki.
“Want to walk through the garden of eyes and . . . ears?” Aren asked with a deep sense of knowing and satisfaction as he waved his hand to the hallway leading away from the inner hotel lobby and toward another set of open glass doors. “To the place of . . . joy we walk.”
Nikki exchanged looks with Rogaan to confirm he had confidence in his friend. Rogaan simply nodded with a knowing smile. Anders, Dunkle, and Miller had confusion written all over their faces.
“Did you . . . just do all of this?” Dunkle asked of Aren tilting his head left, right, and up.
“Oh course, Doctor,” Aren replied. “I don’t . . . care for eyes . . . watching me everywhere I go . . . or those . . . utterances by objects . . . examining me.”
“How?” Dunkle asked incredulous of what Aren just insinuated.
“Difficult to explain,” Aren informed him. With a half-smile, Aren held out an open hand as he made a slight bow. “Lead on, Mr. Isaac Edison.”
White and blue can-shaped robots rolled from concealed wall bays immediately surrounding the malfunctioning outer door and security station. They appeared to be scanning and probing the station for what Nikki didn’t know. Dunkle wasted no time guiding the group through the open malfunctioning glass door leading to the inner resort grounds, working their way through a small crowd of guests, all wearing rather revealing costumes. Nikki blushed for them. The guys simply stared. Their group followed a covered paved pathway lined with humming stone pedestals, each with a fist-sized floating rock a foot or so above.
“There has to be a trick to these floating rocks.” Nikki found herself fascinated by them.
“No trick,” Dunkle replied. “Technology of our ancient gods. Sound focused on the rocks levitates them. Only recently did we learn how to levitate objects heavier than a ping-pong ball.”
“No way,” Nikki challenged, still not believing sound held the shaped rocks in the air.
“We were levitating objects up to several hundred pounds a few feet high back at the university when you were on your leave,” Anders confirmed Dunkle’s accounting. “It’s real fascinating tech.”
Nikki wondered at the floating rocks as they continued their short walk to an intersection. The path right led to the lagoon. The path straight ahead to the Royal Heaven Towers Hotel and Casino and through crowds of costumed people. Dunkle led them left following a wide paved walkway deeper into the resort and park as the last of the day’s light faded engulfing them in darkness and walkway artificial lighting.
“Attention, resort guests,” a male synthetic voice announced in English. The voice sounded as if it came from everywhere. “Guests under the age of eighteen are now restricted to indoor spaces. All young adults and children, please follow the instructions provided on your personal data assistants. Please comply with security personnel and artificial life-forms while exiting the outdoor grounds.”
The park’s voice repeated its message in multiple languages as Nikki observed everyone she presumed underage having their PDA’s holographically projecting instructions to them. As she and the group walked along the wide, winding, paved path now illuminated in soft white light as dusk passed away, robotic white and blue mini-drones buzzed all about the resort finding younglings. Why did I think younglings? Nikki asked herself. Many of the young complied with the instructions, though just as many protested both their now red, flashing holographic instructions and their parents. Those in protest quickly f
ound white and blue human-form android ALFs or less prolifically similarly liveried personnel directing them more forcibly indoors. With all the walking, Nikki’s leg started becoming painful enough to cause her a visible limp, slowing her. She fell to the back of their group while trying to keep up.
“Are you okay?” Anders fell in beside her after Rogaan and Aren gave her sympathetic glances when she fell behind.
“My leg is getting sore,” Nikki answered as they covered another game field length of strides along the winding path with the Risen Cove Hotel on their left. A slowly flowing almost lazy water ride to their right with voices obscured by well-placed tropical trees and bushes told Nikki they were not the only adults still outside. Here too were more humming pedestals with floating rocks occasionally lining the path on both sides. Watching the last of the children and teens being ushered indoors by parents, uniformed resort attendants, and ALFs, Nikki grew more curious about the resort’s night happenings. “What’s all this about?”
“After-dark adult cosplay . . . as Miller told me about on the Sukkal,” Anders answered with purposely made wide eyes. His eyes swept over Nikki in her green, almost revealing elf attire.
“Stop that!” Nikki blushed feeling uncomfortable at being objectified, though liking the attention.
“Sorry,” Anders replied as he stole another glance at Nikki’s legs.
The path curved to the right, away from the Risen Cove, setting them on a stroll toward a large group of something other than cosplay people crowding an intersection ahead. As they neared, Nikki realized many of these people were tall and exceptionally well fit. Others, visibly shorter and with all different colors of skin . . . natural and not, were mingling with those tall. None wore costumes. Instead, the taller men and women had on sports clothing of purples, blues, and reds, while most of those shorter had on skimpy outfits. Nikki felt her body flush warm at how skimpy some of the outfits were . . . if they could be called outfits. The crowd appeared to be celebrating under holographic banners of pink, white, and silver with the bold letters and words “TM2A Champions.” As they closed the distance to the crowd, Miller slowed slightly, offering Nikki a little welcomed relief for her leg. Though, another urgency grew.
“Miller . . . Mr. Dom . . .” Nikki attempted to get the attention of the Wind Runner’s officer with a hushed, then louder voice as she hoped the facilities she needed were near.
“My name is Domanner, Jeffery Domanner,” Miller chided while stopping short of the crowd and whirling around on his heels. He gave Nikki a scolding look with furrowed brows.
“I need to go,” Nikki stated sheepishly.
“Where?” Miller looked confused.
“You know . . . the bathroom,” she answered, a bit surprised at Miller not understanding the meaning of her words.
“You’re kiddin’ me.” Miller sounded flabbergasted in his Southern drawl. “Now? Didn’t you go before we left?”
“Yes,” she answered defiantly.
Miller rolled his eyes before putting on a face of frustration and pointing to a building beyond the TM2A crowd. Nikki found the blue glowing symbols of a woman in a dress, a man, a man with half a dress, and a wheelchair set into a stone obelisk next to the building she assumed had the restroom. She groaned at the signage. She didn’t like all-genders restrooms. Too many less-than-desirable experiences in them. She looked around the celebrating crowd of tall athletes hoping to find another restroom symbol . . . for woman only. Nothing! Nikki’s anxiety built.
“What?” Miller asked impatiently.
“I . . . would rather . . .” Nikki started to protest her lack of choice in accommodations.
“It’ll be all right,” Anders sounded playful. “I’ll go with you. You know . . . to watch your . . .”
“You’ll watch nothing of me!” Nikki retorted.
“All right.” Anders defensively raised his hands. “I didn’t mean anything by my offer.”
“Time is critical, Ms. Bathor,” Miller urged Nikki with an outstretched arm in the direction of the restroom.
“Men!” Nikki snorted as she trudged off toward the glowing blue symbols, preparing herself to navigate the crowd of TM2Aers. “When you’re not acting like dogs, you’re acting like—”
“You’re welcome,” Anders interrupted with a smile.
Banners fluttered, and holo-signage flashed all around the boastful crowd of powerfully built athletes as Nikki weaved through them. The signage and the conversations she overheard told her they were celebrating winning the title in the International Transhuman Mixed Martial Arts League. The strong smell of alcohol and a haze of intoxicating smoke wafting heavy in the air as a stout electronic tune, someone thought was music, pulsed, making her feel the score as much as hear it. All of it quickly caused her to feel a “buzz” and headache. This is not my kind of crowd.
She started to wonder what “transhuman” meant in terms of the martial arts when she brushed past two preoccupied martial artists, a dark-skinned woman slightly taller and more muscled than Nikki and a white man more than a chest and head taller and much bigger than the dark-skinned woman. The feel of cool carbon fibers and metal alloy brushed against her arms making her look down from the blue glowing symbols she was navigating toward. The two athletes each possessed prosthetic arms and hands shaped closely to their biological replacement forms, the hands having artificial flesh covering them that to Nikki didn’t feel exactly like human flesh. The woman’s hands were colored in her natural skin tones while the man’s hands were colored in a purple, blue, and red pattern. Nikki suddenly felt uncomfortable as she realized all the martial artists and some of the team staff had prosthetics and implants. Many the prosthetics had built-in holographic PDAs in which a noticeable part of the crowd used, but not to interact with each other. They seemed to prefer the physical for interacting with their fellow athletes, coaches, and trainers. Interesting. Some also appeared to possess cybernetic enhancements in their necks or heads. One even had a cybernetic eye that looked like it came from a killer robot out of an old movie classic about the end of the world. To Nikki’s relief, they paid her little attention as she “pardon me” and “excuse me” while getting through them.
Breaking free of the flesh, carbon, and metal throng, Nikki found herself standing before several wiry-built, above-average height men, one brown-skinned and one white with a hint of oriental heritage. Both wore loose-fitting purple athletic shorts and shirts with a woven-in display signage that was shifting in blues, then reds, then blues again, “Transhuman Mixed Martial Artist.” Both sported purple, blue, and red patterns on their prosthetic legs and arms. All of their limbs . . . quadriplegics. Cybernetic-controlled limbs! She felt even more uncomfortable than moments before. Not natural . . . not what He meant for us. Nikki heard her Bubba Jules’s words in her head about the mingling of technology with the human body. Clinging on the arms of the martial artists were what appeared to Nikki as four young women. She gave them double and triple takes but remained uncertain of their gender before realizing she stood staring at the red bikini “enthusiasts” with jaws agape. The young “women” adorned their bodies in colors and patterns of orange and black tiger stripes and yellow and black leopard spots. Not painted . . . No, the coloration and patterns on their bodies were skin pigment deep. Two even had cat whiskers sprouting out around their noses. All four displayed long manes of yellow hair with black highlights and a red stripe. Each had their own variation on hairstyles. Awkward, came to Nikki’s mind. One of the “women” growled at her like an agitated cat. Awkwardness turned to anxiety and alarm. With all four “cat women” staring at her as if a threat, Nikki quickly resumed her navigation around the six, continuing to make her way to the restroom.
Walking with a slight limp and a headache, the buzzing of something larger than an insect drew Nikki’s eyes upward. A small swarm of multicolored mini-drones, each able to fit in the palm of her hand, hovered just outside of the restroom. News and paparazzi drones. Nikki had second though
t about her needs as she felt certain each carried a powerful camera, maybe one of the new ten terapixel micros or something close, able to see the finest flaws in a girl’s complexion . . . and me revealing so much.
“Just not right,” Nikki spoke aloud with unmasked disdain as an uncomfortable shiver rippled through her. She stepped under the mini-drones and onto the tiles of the restroom entranceway as her inner physical discomfort grew.
Inside the restroom, Nikki’s breath was taken away. She again considered finding another place to do her business but knew she would never make a new destination. Instead, she pushed forward into the heavy drug-scented haze obscuring much of the upper half of the restroom. Worse, noises filled the restroom of people “enjoying” themselves and others from the stalls. Another shiver rippled up and down Nikki’s back. She had to almost dance through the throng of multihued people interacting with one another through their holographically projected PDAs or talking and pawing at each other . . . and worse. How can they do that in public? Nikki felt both amazed and repulsed at their displays that went far beyond public affections. Many of the occupants she brushed past looked to be women . . . in varying states of nudity, making it a bit easier for Nikki to know what she was looking at. Almost all were surgically enhanced, but she couldn’t say if they were originally male or female, or something in between.
A hand groping her backside startled Nikki, causing her to jump while looking for the offending person. The crowd swallowed both hand and owner. Now with an urgent need to relieve herself, Nikki started forcing her way to a stall she thought unoccupied. Relieved she was right and in a state of cleanliness she could stomach, Nikki closed the stall door bringing on a sense of security and welcomed isolation from the depravity going on beyond the door. A quick maneuver of her clothing found Nikki sitting with a deep sense of relief.
A heavy thud against the stall door sent adrenalin shooting throughout her body. Through the din, she heard the unmistakable sounds of heavy, raspy breathing and moaning outside her stall and more down the line of stalls along with words that just should not be spoken in public, like “Oh . . . just like that . . .” and “Such a good girl, Senator . . .” and “I want more of that!” Nikki felt herself both blushing and alarmed.
