Juju
PREY-FOR-US
- One on One
- Group
- Dice
- Nation Building
- Off-site
Chapter 1: Admittance
Upon closer inspection, a small appendix could be spotted in the bottom margin of the flyer, just below the combined logos of The Pillars. The font was small enough that it wasn’t noticed upon first glance, almost as if it hadn’t been there at all. Squinting would reveal a date and time that was just as odd as the invitation itself;
Tonight. 21:00.
There was no way to tell if the flyer had been sent within the same day or even the week, but there also wasn’t any indication that it hadn’t. Yet with every second spent in consideration, Schrödinger's appointment crept closer and closer. For some that meant hours, while for others it was minutes.
Just below the suspicious time was a small QR code, one identical to those used by one-way tickets of the Metafora shuttle system. Not any shuttle system, mind you, but the premium carts reserved for those with enough wealth and status to afford them. Perhaps it wasn’t impressive to some of the individuals holding the flyer, but it promised a prepaid and private cart reserved just for the lucky holder of this invitation. It also conveniently omitted the shuttle’s destination.
Perhaps it was tonight, or perhaps it was last week, but you could not know until you tried the ticket. It was a little white rabbit, and ultimately it was your choice to follow. No matter what that choice might look like.
━━▲━━
The private shuttle was homogenous to all others of its make, the inside coloured in corporate greys and browns with a single polished leather seat. It felt like real leather, and smelled like it too, but both could be easily replicated in The City. The glass windows were spotless and structured in a semicircle around the seat, even if they were completely useless. Metafora shuttles were underground, so the only view the premium windows offered were the blurred lights of the tunnel. In just 3 seconds, the melty light-lines slowed, and the shuttle docked into its destination. The screen at the top of the shuttle read "Station 2B-4712".
Just like the shuttle, the station looked identical to the thousands of others nestled under the city. Yet it was its standard appearance that made it truly strange; not because of what was there, but what wasn’t. There were no crowds or beggars to be seen, and the walls were free of the oppressive ads that typically dominated every available inch. It left the station oddly barren and empty. Sterile, even.
The sliding door to the shuttle opened with a delightful chime, and an artificial voice thanked you for your patronage as you stepped out. The flyer held no further instructions or clues, but there was only one exit to the station. Across from the shuttle loading area was a hallway that curved out of sight. Subsequently, there was a distinct lack of terminals to purchase or scan tickets to other stations. Second thoughts no longer mattered. Even the shuttle had shut behind you, forbidding you from returning to that comfortable leather seat. It likewise continued on its journey, abandoning you in the empty, too-clean station.
The way forward was lit with white circular lights, the hallway curving in a way that obscured both the path ahead and the path behind. After walking in what seemed to be an endless spiral, the hallway finally ended at a door. It slid open automatically at your approach, and closed in the same manner after passing through.
Inside was a corporate meeting room with an oblong table big enough to seat nearly twenty people in total. Seats were arranged opposite each other, each paired with a stack of documents and pen. The text on the paper was small and compact, suggesting a rather detailed and lengthy read. Forms, no doubt. The papers were unorthodoxly sage, providing a splotch of colour in the otherwise grey and dismal room.
There were two women already inside, one wearing the classy business attire you’d expect from a Pillar employee, while the other wore an oversized jacket and miniskirt that was quite the opposite in both style and professionalism.
The business lady literally looked down at the other, her voice cool and detached. Her face was the kind that looked vaguely annoyed by default, but it would seem that something the blue-haired girl said tipped it into true irritation. A part of the conversation between them could be heard upon entering the meeting room, “—will know once all assets have arrived.”
“Oh-kay. Um…” The blue-haired girl hesitated, shoving her hands into her pockets. She turned around just in time to see the first asset(s) walk through the door. A wide grin spread across her face, “Speak of the devil. What a relief. Y’know, I was really starting to worry I’d be the only one to show.”
The woman behind her forwent the same pleasantries, opting for a straight-to-business approach.
“Please, have a seat.” She motioned to the table, though remained standing herself, “Here you will find consent forms for our NDA, data collection and privacy policy. Please understand that until they are signed, I cannot answer any questions related to the research project. Nor will you be eligible to register for it. Be advised that we are on a tight schedule, so please do not delay.”
After stating this, she looked down at her clipboard and began to hastily write some notes. “For convenience, you may address me as Ms. Swanson.”
The blue-haired girl sat down and flipped through the pile of documents, reading only a few lines before giving up. Instead, she looked around at the others, “Oh, are we introducing ourselves? I can go first then. I’m Bea—”
“Unnecessary.” Swanson interjected, eyes still on her notes.
Bea winced at the sharpness of those words and then slumped back into her seat. It was like being scolded by a teacher, so she decided to use what she learned in school and keep her mouth shut. Dutifully, she picked up a pen and began to sign her name on the forms.
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