The door closed and Chaney tapped her on the shoulder. She looked at him and he ushered her toward the silver cylindrical doors, which he opened with the wave of his hand over the console on the wall. She was confused at first as she didn’t see anything on his wrist or in his hand, but then she realized his access chip must’ve been inside his hand. He noticed her stare.
“You can’t get more secure than that,” he smiled.
She gave him a nod, impressed. “No, you can’t. And you certainly would never leave your access pass behind.”
He laughed as the silver doors parted. They stepped inside the dimly lit elevator capsule, and she watched as he hit the button for the 4th floor. The Ceiling.
“So what happens on the third floor?” she asked.
“The third floor has entertainment,” he glanced at her, “exotic dancers and the like.”
“And the Ceiling?”
He smiled. “It has a little of everything. Anything goes. If you want to stay public, we have open areas. If you want seclusion, we have that too. Oh, by the way, a warning. You’ll need to hand in all electronic devices at the door. Anonymity is guaranteed. Whatever you do up there, you won’t find yourself on the cover of some gossip magazine.”
“I like the sound of that,” she nodded, though she wondered how Barker had been allowed to take the photos he did on the Ceiling. Had that been allowed for publicity purposes? Or was that maybe the reason he was killed?
The capsule doors opened, and she saw a coat check facing them. They stepped out and Salvi handed over her burner phone, and allowed the woman behind the counter to check her bag. When she was done, Chaney ushered her to their right, into the Ceiling.
As she stepped past the elevator and coat check, her eyes were immediately drawn to a giant white angel that looked over the room; its broad wings spread out behind the bar against the far wall. She paused at the sight of it. It was breathtaking.
He smiled at her awe. “If you’ve hit the ceiling, you’ve earned your wings.”
Salvi smiled. “I made it to heaven. Just what my parents always wanted.”
They moved toward the bar and she glanced about surreptitiously. To their left was an open lounge with intimate round tables, so dimly lit she could barely make out the few people sitting there. Further along the wall to the left of the bar, she saw long curved couches where people lay back in each other’s arms. To their right, she saw private areas sectioned off: some were merely glass boxes where it was easy to see who was sitting inside them, others were hidden by glimmering veiled curtains. As she glanced back at the way they’d come, she saw a space of equal size on the other side of the elevator. That side held a dance floor made of white tiles that lit up in all kinds of colors and patterns, and dotted here and there were small podiums with exotic dancers of both sexes – real, robotic, and in holographic form. Behind them, the entire far end of the building appeared to be comprised of wall-to-floor screens showing an array of artsy footage from mouths sucking lollypops, to clouds moving across the sky, to flowers opening to the sun, to leather whips being cracked, to a motherboard being soldered. This must’ve been what Chaney was talking about when he said he ‘maybe’ had work for her. It was definitely something her cover, Sarah, would be right into.
“What would you like to drink?” Chaney said, ushering her up to the bar.
“What have you got?”
He tapped the bar and a holographic menu appeared. She scanned it and chose a cocktail called a Ceiling Cider.
“And how would you like it served?” he asked, motioning to the bar staff waiting. Again, they were of both sexes, some real, some robotic.
And then she noticed two of the human variety were wearing neural tech.
Just like that, out in the open, not trying to hide it.
She pointed to the guy with the tech clearly on display on the sides of his shaved head. He wore simple black trousers and shoes, but was shirtless, his buff physique on display.
“He looks interesting,” she said.
Chaney waved him over and Salvi studied the device he wore. A silver, circular pad was pressed to his temple, and a thick, long tail curved around behind his ear, while delicate wires and pads radiated out further onto his scalp and cheekbones.
“What does that do?” she asked.
“Whatever you want,” Chaney said.
“Whatever I want?”
Chaney leaned in closer to her ear. “Some people have android fantasies. This taps into that fetish.”
“I can see that.” Salvi nodded, eyeing his toned torso. She locked eyes with the man, and she saw he was wearing lenses that were engaged, making his eyes a metallic pale blue. She could see elements within the lenses moving but couldn’t quite tell if they were real or just a gimmick.
“Some people like the idea of having someone who will do whatever they want them to,” Chaney added, “who will respond to their every wish and command.”
She nodded again, staring at the bartender as he prepared her drink. He didn’t speak, just did his job, as ordered, while looking like a stunningly beautiful android, with his chiseled cheekbones and defined abs. There was almost something robotic about his movements and she wondered whether it was part of the act. Despite his beauty, however, there was something about him that didn’t sit right with her. Something that disturbed her. Something about his eyes that seemed distant. Then she realized what it was.
He reminded her a lot of the Subjugates and Serenes of
