When I come to, I’m on my back… underwater!? Am I dead? Is this heaven? Is this the astral plane? Did they tie bricks to my ass and throw me in the Atlantic?!
Wait, no, thank god–I’m not underwater, I’m UNDER water, surrounded by wavy darkness, dimly illuminated by blue neon rings in arches above me all along this Flexiglass hallway. I look down and under a thick layer of Flexiglass is… pavement?
Holy shit, is this the sunken part of Ocean View!?
I press my face to the wall and gaze into the murky darkness, letting my eyes adjust slightly. I can barely make out the facade of an old building next to me out a few feet, doors and windows seemingly intact. The strange thing is that it still looks totally intact--no wear and tear from the ocean, like it was magically shielded from the elements. So the Colonies aren’t just above ground--they’re connected to the sunken city? God damn, these Skulls might be assholes, but they’re fucking metal.
“Pretty hackin’, yeah?”
I turn round and--when the fuck did they get there!? “A-Araña!? What--”
“Yeah, I know. It’s quite the scene when you see it for the first time, and trust me–the appeal never fully wears off.”
“Wh--how is that building still--”
“Oh, it’s not just that one,” they motion, uplighting springing to life as an entire row on each side of us illuminates--the buildings are intact, as if they’d been swallowed up thirty minutes ago instead of thirty years. “It cost a lot of money, y’know? Not the land, but the preservation. Kilroy bought it all up for pennies before the flood and now a coating of complex nanobot swarms keeps them sealed airtight for continued usage. The real Colonies aren’t the pedestrian apartments overhead, they’re down here in Neptune.” The floor under us begins to move so smoothly I barely notice, the Flexiglass-shell nanobots underneath acting as a terrifying opaque treadmill beneath our feet. Soon we’re whisking through at what must be at least ten miles an hour.
“Neptune, huh?” I ask. Araña snaps their fingers and my jaw drops in childlike wonder as the original neon and fluorescent signs flicker to life as I can see on both sides is any indication. No matter how fast I snap my neck back and forth, I feel like I’m missing something amazing every second. Gift shops, pizza places, ice cream shops, VR cafes, massage parlors, hotels, mini golf places, weapons shops, record shops--all perfectly and surreally preserved, hundreds of meters under the water, a veritable museum of pre-2060 Ocean View. “How much is--”
“Oh, all of it,” they reply with a crazed grin. “There are tunnels like this connecting it all, some larger than others. This is one of the bigger ones, of course. The smaller ones don’t have as much neon.”
“And you use all of them!?” Now that I’m looking at it, I’m noticing a multitude of smaller tunnels going out in all different directions as we whisk by. “Where is everyone else then?”
“We sure do. It takes a lot of work to maintain all this, so have low level Skulls taking care of upkeep and such. All paid, and paid much better than Telecom wage slaves, of course. Our own little perfect society. Two thirds of all ARTs Telecom ever manufactured live down here, y’know--no Red Flag down here, no deactivation laws, no potential manhunt if shit hits the fan and tensions from the war are reignited. And to answer your second question, the others are already at the rave. First things first, and all that.”
“And Telecom, just… lets you do this?!”
“They don’t have much choice. Everything they sank is NanoTEC territory. Kilroy had insider knowledge about the Flood beforehand and bought it all up, protecting the buildings before the sea crashed in on them. Telecom thought they were ripping him off, but they practically handed him a half-built Utopia. This is our Nirvana, y’know?”
“Holy fucking shit. I didn’t even realize NanoTEC was connected to him.”
“Not directly, but the CEO and him go way back, so… you know.” They giggle. “By the way, Charles, this isn’t your first time seeing this, you know. Just your first time sober enough to remember any of it. You were on some gnarly shit last time. Just took one hot Skull girl to talk your drunk ass into trying Rapture and it was downhill from there.”
“I tried Rapture--???”
“Yeah,” Araña replies, chuckling. “Never seen anyone take to Rapture Oof so quickly.”
“Rapture Oof?”
“Yeah. Oof. Yknow, #00000f–Come on, genius. Purest Rapture blue we make. Even sloshed out of your goddamn mind, you were really something on the shit; never seen abilities manifest so quickly. You really don’t remember!? Oh, you poor, sweet little ignorant soul; Kilroy really does have so, so much to teach you.”
“I hope you know I’m not going to join you. I mean, not--not again, not--not sober. I’m not like you guys.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that--none of us could pull off that kind of shit, even on the Oof,” they smirk. “But looking at the back of your hand–you’re not so different from us after all, and I’m sure that document we shared with you has been at least providing you with some conflicting viewpoints.”
I swallow hard and neglect to respond.
“Silence can say just as much as running your mouth,” they continue.
The walkway slides to a stop as the hallway opens--I can’t help but crane my neck around in all directions to take in the majesty of the gigantic dome we’re now within. The glass isn’t transparent anymore--giant ZPE screens projected onto the darkness of the dome’s walls display a constant stream of neon patterns, ranging from dancing lasers to a low quality animation of Lum from Urusei Yatsura dancing in front of a pulsating Lágrimas de Sangre logo. It’s all synchronized to orb-like speakers mounted all over the dome, and the ground shakes with every pounding bass note in the ceremonial EDM the cult is blaring.
At the center of the dome is the corner of a massive, ancient building with skull facades above all the windows. The centerpiece: a gigantic, antique 3D detail of a half-skinned skull leaning over the building, one hand clenching onto the edge of the roof, the other outstretched menacingly at anyone daring to approach the building. It looks like a repurposed luxury haunted house; everything looks like it must be from the 1950s-1980s except for the additions made to the skull (glowing red eyes with fluorescent tears running down the length of the face). A new behemoth neon sign had also been added beneath: “THE RAPTURE ROOM.”
“This is the hub of our little world,” Araña explains, a sparkle in their eyes like a kid at Teleland. Clearly Skulls are VERY passionate about what they do. “The main base of operations, Kilroy’s quarters, and home of the rave stadium. The essentials, y’know?”
“Holy shit,” is all I can muster in reply. “Is this where I put in the Raiden II code?”
“Charles, you’re literally standing in front of our headquarters right now. That ship has sailed.”
“I was really proud I figured it out, though.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, you can play it when we get back.”
“Nah. The moment’s ruined now.”
“Ever so sorry.”
I’m guided up to the entrance, where Araña instructs me to use the BS on the back of my hand. A sensor on the imposing, medieval style dark wood door seems to register the code from the flickers and clicks slightly. I take a deep, horrified, meaningful, possibly final breath. It’s all come down to this: Kilroy’s in there, this is where I finally get my answers, but it’s on his terms now, not mine. He wants me here: if he just wanted me dead, no need bringing me to this party. Maybe he doesn’t know I’m undercover and thinks I just legitimately turned on Telecom and society after I got let go before and after finding out they murdered my girlfriend? Hell, maybe I will do that actually, depending on how this goes. Haha, just kidding. Probably. Maybe he wants me to team up with him for something because he’s read my book, I don’t fucking know. If he fully trusted me though, no need to deactivate my shit and knock me out before shipping me to his underground rave plaza… though given my reputation, he knows I’m dangerous either way, so that’s not a sure thing one way or the other.
This is a dance--we’re not really sure which side the other is on or what they’re after, so we’re fighting to stay one step ahead, to advance towards the other without dropping our guard. I’m literally on death’s doorstep, but I’ve never felt so alive! Wasting away my life on mediocrity was the real death--this is what I live for. Me against the world, baby, against an evil organization, against the odds! Maybe I’m crazy, but this is the best I’ve felt in years. This isn’t a fucking movie, this isn’t a book (well I mean technically now it is, but at the time I’m living this it isn’t), this is my real life.
As the door slides open, my pounding heart matches the even louder-pounding bass inside the terrifying, beautiful hell of a rave I’ve come across. No turning back now. A manic grin infects my face. This is what I live for.