Skyfall Dawn

Street-level sidewalks had been eliminated to make room for more traffic, pedestrians walked along terraces build into sides of the arcos and noir supertowers. There were shops in a roof plaza just outside the subway entrance for Chinatown Terrace. A moving stairway lifted him the 400 meters from bottom to top. When he came into the natural light there was a pedestrian flow between him and the storefronts. He stepped off the stairway and waded in.

"Madam Wu's" which advertised honorable grooming services by walk-in or appointment. A thin girl that looked stim-addicted and only half-Asian met him at the door. She waved him inside and established what he wanted, then guided him to a chair as Buddhist chants and dulcimer music squeaked from the old speakers hanging on the walls.

She had an elaborate tiger tattoo that started at her throat and disappeared under her loose silk-top, which marked her as being Triad or Tong. Done quickly and efficiently, the laser-clipper job cost him 200 Cr. The flash at the rest of her tattoo cost him an extra ten.

A set of single-breasted Newbrook pinstripes was all that he could afford, but they were hand-fitted and altered before he left the store. With a few extra white business shirts and a new pair of buckled-instep Costa Rican shoes, he looked "good enough", at least until his first salary deposit came through.

There was a car waiting outside the next morning, a TIL vehicle, apparently one part of his contract that he’d overlooked. When Ajax has clambered in, auto-pilot engaged and pulled out around METRO 17 into the light traffic. Pedestrians stared as the limo passed. Ajax stared back through the tinted glass, trying to read their faces. There was anger or envy on some but mostly he saw indifference. The car turned right at the corner of Hunt and Holland and navigated to the entrance ramp for the LaGuardia Expressway, then took the lower-level and headed into mid-town.

The car stopped at the plaza in front of the Tachyon Industries building and popped the door. When Ajax got out he found himself in a sea of people dressed similarly, all part of the crowds moving into and out of the Arco. When the door closed and the car had pulled away, he took a fortifying breath of sickly-sweet air and started across the plaza for the lobby-doors. When he got to the fountain at the center he paused and leaned back as far as balance allowed. The TIL arco had over four hundred floors but only half were visible, the rest obscured by the low hanging clouds; dark Nimbostratus that silhouetted a large skimmer, warning lights flashing, that was easing into a landing pad that notched a corner of the TIL building just below cloud cover.

Level 90? Ajax silently gauged the distance. The crosswinds at that height were probably ferocious. There were clusters of wind-turbines on each level that made navigation around the building hazardous, but the paddle-blades kept spinning, generating electricity to run the building. He’d heard reports of the amounts of energy TIL added to the local grid, enough to keep many poorer sections of the city from blackout, instituting a state of perpetual brown-out that dictated routine. People were told when their power was going to be on and planned accordingly.

There was a train pulling into the Metro Commuter platform on the lee-side of the arco around level 45. Around him, tourists raised micro-digitals to record the event and to get a lasting impression of the size of the structure. You could only find this scale in urban cores; Paris, L.A., Mexico City, New York, Sao Paulo. TIL picked New York for their HQ because of its proximity to JBMS, but they had facilities in every core except Paris.

“Alexander Durham, please,” He said and handed his ICE card to the security people at the lobby-desk. “I have an appointment.”

“Better you than me, pal,” The security captain said and shook his head with what Ajax took to be sympathy. “Name?”

“Melvin Kinkaid.” Ajax said and offered over his Citizen ID, which was checked against a list of non-company people authorized to be in the Arco, the guard handed it back.

“One-hundred-thirty-third floor, human resources.”

***

Alexander Durham, Assistant Sub-Director of Personnel, felt his face grow tighter as he reviewed the contract before him. That a mere retainer was being given 10-year privileges at 1st year caused him to grind his teeth, gently, because he had been doing too much teeth-grinding of late. He had thirteen years in but only level-ten benefits. He should have been higher, but all promotions in his department had been frozen, he often reasoned to himself. The senior director worked well with his sub-directors and there were no foreseeable changes as long as that was so.

This man has no business within our company. Durham paged through the lines of text on the screen of his datapad. This mercenary criminal is getting pay nearly equivalent to mine and that’s coming in fresh off the shuttle from prison. What the Security Directorate is doing with thugs like these, I have no idea.

“Prudence, summon a level four liaison, please.” Durham said, promising himself that he would speak with the Senior Director when the opportunity came. What Artemis Cutter saw in this person to compensate him so well, he would find out.

“So tell me, Mister Kinkaid, how did you come to be in our service?” He said and leaned back in his leather chair. “For edification, our hiring window runs from June to September and it’s rare that we pick someone up in the off-season.”

“I had an interview with Mister Cutter yesterday,” Ajax said and shifted nervously in his chair. “He said that he had an opening for me and that I could start immediately so I took him up on his offer and here I am.”

“Yes, here you are,” Durham nasally retorted. He sighed and checked his Krono-Tek. “Basically our security types man the checkpoints around the building to scan ID’s. It’s like taking out the trash. If anyone is on the premises that isn’t supposed to be, you eject them. If they object, you convince them that leaving is in their best interests. You get two company uniforms but you can buy more. It’ll automatically be deducted from your pay.”

Ajax shook his head. “Mister Cutter was sparse on the details. I assumed it had something to do with the shipping division.”

“Warehouse security then. Keep an eye on the workers. Sometimes you come across one of questionable scruples, and besides rooting them out, you are responsible for showing up on time, all the time,” Durham said and leaned forward on his elbows. “No excuses. If you are sick you are responsible for letting your superiors know before your shift starts. You are responsible for knowing our protocols and following them with a minimum of deviation. If you fail to follow these protocols then you will be downsized, barring you from rehire by us or any company in our industrial alliance. Noone around here likes trouble-makers.”

“I’m not here to cause trouble.” Ajax said and shifted under Durham’s glare, his eyes were like Dremel tools. “I was offered a job.”

“Glad to hear it.” Durham said and gave a derisive snort as he went back to scanning the terms of the contract. Cutter interviewed him personally? He stabbed at the intercom when it signaled for attention. “What is it?”

“Sir, the liaison is here.”

"Send it in." Durham said and within moments Ajax heard the big, synthetic, oaken doors behind him open and close, then steps crossing the office carpeting behind him. He caught perfume before he heard a voice.

“So, Melvin Kinkaid, are you ready to join our team?” A curious voice asked in his ear. Somewhere in his head the Chief was laughing.

“Ajax, please, noone calls me Melvin anymore,” Ajax said. "That’s a different person from a different time.”

Her lips drew back easily into a smile.

“Leda Montgomery, call me Leda.” She said and extended her hand. He shook it gently, taking extra care not to crush her long fingers. “I'm your liaison. Let me be the first to welcome you to the Tachyon Industrial Complex. Let’s get started with the orientation, OK?"

Ajax was a type-1 Homosapiens-Sapiens, a regular joe, by his own admission. He did not carry any internal chip-ware or artificial prostheses to augment his natural abilities and his genetic structure was dictated by nature instead of science. She was too perfect not to be engineered. Her appraisal lasted as long as a glance downward and back up to meet his eyes.

"At least you look the part," She said and nodded approvingly. "It's three-quarters of the fight. If you've got the right equipment, you've almost won the war. I’d ditch the Newbrook though, you’re way more important than that. I know some people we can call to get you set up with something a little more you."

Her jacket-vest-pant combination was conservative black and well-tailored, flattering her lines, a brass-button with the TIL logo was stuck through the oversized lapels on the jacket.

"Take it and go." Durham said in disgust as he signed off on the contract by pressing his thumb against the reader on the datapad. He shoved the device across the desk toward Ajax.

“I think we’ve taken up enough of Mister Durham’s valuable time. Shall we get started?” She said and intercepted the datapad and turned. Ajax rose to his feet and followed her out of the room. “Pleasure as always, Alex.” She called out over her shoulder.

Ajax smiled as Durham slowly stiffened.

“That's Alexander.”