down the first of these branches, and the rest of the group followed.
The sight humbled Molly.
Ahead of her, and stretching out for hundreds and hundreds of meters, lay a passage lined with square doors, each of them about a meter to a side. Stacked four high, the top row would have been difficult for even Edison to reach. Small LCD screens on every door flashed with a series of numbers along with the word “Unoccupied.”
“Is my mom here somewhere?” Molly asked.
“Down a different main branch, yes. This is our phase four expansion. We use it for demonstrations and meetings with prospective clients.” He swiped his card through a reader on the door nearest them and the cover hinged open with a pop and a hiss.
“This rest compartment could be yours one day,” he intoned. The door opened fully and a long metal tray slid out. “Imagine all the amazing dreams you could have here. An eternity of happiness. Is that something you’re willing to wait for? Why not start creating your heaven today?”
“Not interested,” Cole said, a tad rude for Molly’s liking.
“Of course,” said Stanley. “Just think about it. There’s a lot to take in and we urge you to return for another tour at any time.” He turned to Molly. “Have you seen enough of the facilities? Would you care to visit your loved one now?”
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
“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
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.
