Rapture: The Big Daddy

by Dustin Brubaker

  Rapture: The Big Daddy

  “I chose… Rapture!”

  Andrew Ryan’s piped-in speech came to its climax just as the underwater city appeared before the window of our bathysphere.

  Little Maddie’s mouth dropped open at the sight of the bright neon signs, imposing statues, and looming buildings that slowly revealed themselves amidst the deep blue water. I picked her up and propped her on my hip so she could get a better look. Her small fingers splayed against the glass bubble of the watercraft as her wide blue eyes roamed the scenery.

  I cast a glance at Clara. She looked equally as entranced, despite the arms crossed over her chest. Despite the skeptical look on her face. But in her eyes, there was wonder. And fascination.

  A small smile curved my mouth. Months of talking, months of persuading… Convincing my wife of just under five years to leave our quaint little hometown in Ohio behind, of uprooting our daughter just as she was about to start school, so we could start over in the near-mythical capitalist’s dream, also known as Rapture, had been difficult, to say the least. But I knew it was the right choice.

  “So, as I was saying, Mr. Winters,” Sean Rigby -- our realtor, and the spindly man who’d glued himself to the back of the bathysphere during the whole descent -- said, clearing his throat. Ryan’s speech continued to stream through the speakers, but his words went unheard as Rigby resumed his shtick. “Apollo Square is a very family-friendly area with lots of facilities I’m sure you’ll find to your liking. It’s close to Fontaine’s Department Store, and the Ryan the Lion Preparatory Academy is just a few connective tubes away.” His attention drifted to Maddie. “Your little one’s about the age to go to school, right? Have you given any thought to picking a school yet?”

  I shook my head Detailed information about Rapture had been hard to come by back in the States. Or, on the surface, rather. We were going into this a little blind, and that’s probably what scared Clara. “Not yet.”

  “What’s this? Ryan the Lion?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she tore her gaze from the watery metropolis. She smirked at me. “Sounds like someone’s got an ego.”

  “Well, I think you’ll find that it’s a well deserved one, ma’am,” Rigby said, then dipped his head apologetically. “Begging your pardon.”

  “You’d have to have an ego to build a place like this,” I found myself saying as I turned my attention back to the city. Maddie was leaning forward now, her face so close to the glass that her breath was leaving a circle of fog on it.

  “Wow,” she breathed, her mouth stuck in a permanent smile ever since we’d begun our descent. “Is this real, Daddy? Really real?” She twisted around to look at me, and I nodded. She giggled and leaned back into me, her arms wrapping around my neck. “Are we really gonna live under the water?”

  “We sure are, pumpkin.”

  She gasped and marveled at a whale that glided by as our bathysphere drew nearer to the city. I tried to read each and every one of those neon signs, but it was too much to take in all at once. A pink and yellow sign that read Cohen’s Collection: Fine Arts. A green theatre marquis: Fleet Hall. A circular sign: Bella Mia’s High Fashion. Now at least I know where Clara will be spending all her time… There was a sign for a casino called Sir Prize, and another that caught my interest: Robertson’s Tobaccoria. Good. I’d been under the impression I’d have to quit. And so had Clara.

  We soon dipped into a circular tunnel, whose supports were crowned with a series of signs that lit up as we neared them. I read each as we passed.

  All Good Things…

  Of This Earth…

  Flow…

  Into The City

  A touch too idealistic for my tastes, but a little optimism never hurt anyone. If this place was even half what people had made it out to be, it’d be good enough for me.

  The bathysphere slowed as we approached a chamber and gradually came to a stop. There was the whir of machinery from somewhere behind us, the sound of water draining, and a moment later, the door of the vessel slid open.

  “And here we are,” Rigby said as I let Maddie down. “The Apollo Square.” He took a few steps past us, out onto the long hallway that the door had opened to. “Now, the great thing about the Artemis Suites is that it’s literally less than a minute away.” He motioned for us to follow him out. I grabbed Maddie’s hand and began reaching for one of our suitcases when he shook his head. “No, no. I’ll have someone bring your things shortly. For now, how about I show you your new home?”

  “That sounds nice,” Clara said with a sigh.

  So I left our bags, took Clara’s hand with my free one, and followed Rigby down the glass-roofed corridor, up a flight of stairs, and into a tall building labeled Artemis Suites.

  Apollo Square was a working class neighborhood, Rigby had explained during the short walk there. The name Artemis Suites was a misnomer. The units were humble abodes, which Clara and I had already resigned ourselves to. But, with a bit a luck, and a lot of sweat and hard work, I was sure we’d be up in Olympus Heights soon enough. Andrew Ryan’s philosophy all but guaranteed it.

  Our fourth floor apartment was small, but had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room. All came furnished, which was business as usual here. There weren’t many people looking to -- or who could even afford to -- ship all their furniture all the way down here.

  There wasn’t a window to be found in any of these rooms, which made sense, but was also a bit of a disappointment. Maddie would’ve loved to be able to watch fish and whales outside her bedroom window. No, Rapture seemed pretty paranoid about water leaks -- and with good reason. Amongst the plethora of posters plastered in the hallway where we’d left the bathysphere, there had been at least half a dozen demanding people to contact the authorities if they so much as felt a drop of water hit them.

  “And if you decide to paint or put up wallpaper, don’t forget to turn on the ventilation accelerator,” Rigby reminded as he showed us the switch in the kitchen. “Wouldn’t want you folks passing out from the fumes, now.”

  After showing us around our new place, and the building at large, Clara and I signed the necessary papers to make everything official. He offered a tour of Rapture itself, but we declined. Clara was obviously tired, and I thought it’d be more interesting to explore the city on our own.

  “Well, I suppose that’s it for now, then,” Rigby said at the front door as he handed over a set of keys for its lock. “I think you’ll find tomorrow to be another exciting day, Mr. Winters,” he said as I took the ring of keys. “There are a number of prime locations that Ryan Industries is currently looking to lease. I’m sure we’ll find the perfect spot for your timepiece shop.”

  I nodded, pocketing the keys. “Let’s hope so.”

  He smiled and gave a jovial laugh. “I’ll see you then. Sir, ma’am.” He dipped his head to each of us in turn. “Little one.” He patted Maddie on the head.

  “Bye-bye!” she called after him, waving enthusiastically as he left down the hall.

  Clara urged her inside, and I closed the door, testing out the keys to make sure they worked. Once satisfied, I joined them in the kitchen.

  “Look. A housewarming gift,” Clara said with a wry smile as she held up a handful of papers. Flyers similar to the ones posted on the walls. They advertised everything from doctor’s clinics, to department stores, and even a police station.

  “Where’d you find those?” I asked as I took one. The Little Sister’s Orphanage it read. I didn’t expect that kind of charity in a place like this.

  “The drawer by the stove.” She leafed through the rest. “Now, what on earth is a Plasmid?”

  “Who knows? Maybe one day we’ll find out.” I left the flyer on the
counter and looked to Maddie, who was fascinated enough with the diamond pattern on the linoleum. “Well, this is it,” I said, bringing my gaze back to my wife. “There’s no going back now.”

  She smiled back. “Good. I’ve got a good feeling about this place.”

  ***

  I got up early the next morning to meet with Rigby. The sooner I found a place for my shop, the sooner I could get to work and become part of this Great Chain.

  Sleep had been hard to come by last night. Partly because of the excitement of the move, and partly because Maddie slept between Clara and I -- and she flails more than a fish out of water. The bed we’d found in her room was actually a crib, so the arrangement was a temporary measure until we could find something more suitable for a four-year-old.

  The girls and I had breakfast at Finley’s Eat-In Take-Out, which was located in the aptly named Welcome Center. From there, I left to find Rigby, but only after Clara assured me she’d be able to find her way back to Apollo Square on her own. I had a feeling she wanted to hit up a few stores of her own liking along the way.

  While Artemis Suites admittedly had a claustrophobic feel to it, the boardwalks of Rapture were more spacious and open-aired than I’d imagined. Here, the use of windows was fearless. Large walls of reinforced glass extended up even into the ceiling. The water outside was a little green, a little murky, but still beautiful nevertheless. Schools of fish swam by every so often, and there were eels and manta rays and even a few sharks. Just the thought of having a shop that faced a view like that… It was great.

  I met Rigby on Market Street. The hub of everyday life at Rapture, he’d said. Full of businesses of every size and shape, from bars to shoeshine stands.

  “To be honest, I don’t think we have any timepiece shops down here,” he said as we made our way along the boulevard. “I’m sure the department stores sell watches and clocks, of course, but I don’t think we’ve got a specialty shop like you’re talking about starting.”

  “Glad to hear it.” A timepiece shop had been my dream since I was just a kid. Since I apprenticed under Cleveland’s premier clockmaker. After years of assisting, giving up my afternoons and weekends to learn and perfect the craft, the old man ended up leaving the shop to his daughter, who promptly sold it to a competing larger chain. My career had taken a different turn after that. I’d worked various jobs trying to save up to open a shop of my own, but there wasn’t enough demand for another one. So I saved and saved, and then I met Clara, and then we both saved. And then I heard whispers about Rapture.

  The capitalist’s wet dream. A true laissez-faire economy. No regulations or laws to damper the free market. Andrew Ryan, the creator of Rapture and founder of Ryan Industries, had put it much more eloquently in his speech that played in the bathysphere yesterday.

  Rigby showed me several available spaces along Market Street. None of them seem badly placed as far as foot traffic was concerned, so I would’ve been happy with anything, so long as it was in my price range.

  After a few hours, I settled on a small but comfortable space in the upper area, nestled between a kiosk for the Rapture Tribune and a place called Sinclair Spirits. The rent was just under the limit of what I could afford.

  A rush of excitement passed through me as I signed the lease papers and counted out the down payment, but I knew it was still too early to celebrate. There was still the matter of sourcing the materials to even make the damn clocks. I’d brought some of my finest work down with me, either as samples, or to sell, but I’d have to start crafting them down here soon enough. Acquiring wood, glass, metal, and quartz would be a much harder task here than back on the surface. But it was a challenge I was prepared for.

  That afternoon, I showed Clara and Maddie the space, and belatedly got their approval. We found another restaurant for lunch over on High Street -- which was certainly called so for a reason. Rigby said that was where the Rapture elite shopped, and the prices reflected that. One day, I hoped, the three of us would be walking that boulevard regularly.

  The next few days passed in a blur. I looked into finding companies to source materials for my business and worked on the legalities of even opening the shop while Clara looked into schools for Maddie and prowled the Farmer’s Market, hoping to adapt our diet into something that still halfway resembled what it had been back on the surface.

  Rapture had no cows. That probably seemed like an obvious thing, but with no grassy pastures, most of the usual farm animals were missing here. I’d heard Fontaine Farms had chickens and a breed of small pigs, but that was about it. The market was full of fish, fruits and vegetables grown using hydroponics, and once exotic but now common foods like sea urchin and lamprey.

  By the end of the week, Clara had most of our apartment furnished according to her tastes, and Maddie had a big girl’s bed. On Saturday, we had our first sit-down dinner. Clara was practically glowing at the opportunity to finally use the kitchen for something more substantial than snacks and hurried breakfasts.

  “It’s been so difficult getting her on a proper nap schedule here,” Clara said, shooting Maddie a look as we ate at the table that evening. “I guess it’s the lack of sunlight here. I hadn’t really thought about that before.” She delicately cut into her chicken breast while Maddie carefully separated her peas from her carrots. “Won’t that mess with our circadian rhythms or something?”

  “I think it’ll just take a while to get used to,” I replied with a nod. I’d been having the same trouble with sleep lately. “The lights around here run on a schedule. So it shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Clara’s blue eyes narrowed a little at my answer. She was obviously disappointed. “I never really thought about it before. I just assumed we’d still be able to see the sun.”

  “Once we move to Olympus Heights, we’ll have all the sunlight we need.” I smiled at the thought.

  Maddie’s spoonful of vegetables paused halfway to her mouth as her eyes grew wide. She had inherited everything from her mother when it came to her looks. The same fiery red hair, the light blue eyes, the pale complexion. And every bit as beautiful. “Olympus Heights? What’s that? When’re we moving?”

  “In maybe five years, with any luck,” I said, picking up a pea that fell off her spoon.

  Clara raised her brow. “Luck? I thought Rapture was all about hard work.”

  I grinned back at her, shaking my head, and took a drink of my champagne. Our first purchase from Sinclair Spirits. It would take some getting used to, but it wasn’t as big of a change as that synthetic tobacco that Robertson’s sold. Forget sunlight -- if anything it was that stuff that needed some getting used to. I’d have to ask around and see if there was anyone that sold the real stuff.

  Over the next several days, I worked on my shop. Got the permits and license, started ordering the signage, and secured enough materials to make more timepieces to fill my display window.

  When I asked my girls what I should call the shop, Maddie’s reply had been both enthusiastic and immediate.

  “Ticks!” she said with a smile.

  ***

  Two weeks later, Ticks was open for business. It was a one-man operation, but I wasn’t looking to hire any assistants just yet. Business was slow starting off, and I took a neighboring shopkeeper’s advice and bought an ad for the place with Rapture Radio. Within just a few days of the ad airing, the foot traffic at Ticks picked up. With the orders coming in, and the supplies located, I finally dove back into my passion: making clocks.

  After careful consideration, Clara and I decided that, despite its name, Ryan the Lion Preparatory Academy would be the best fit for Maddie. She had to take several tests, but ultimately, she was accepted, and the staff there ensured us she’d be given the best education Rapture had to offer. This was a bold claim, considering how many schools there were here. But Ryan the Lion seemed like the cream of the crop when it came to our budget.

  That was another thing Clara didn’t like about this place at first, but I assur
ed her it was better this way. Free schooling was something people took for granted back on the surface, but I was willing to shell out to give my little girl the tools she needed to lead a successful life. And Clara couldn’t argue with that.

  Maddie seemed to be enjoying the school well enough. She was a naturally social kid, always eager to make new friends and discover new things. She’d already gotten close with a couple other kids at Artemis Suites.

  Clara had also made friends of her own. Not just here in Apollo Square, but also amongst the women that frequented Market Street. Using her natural charm, she even managed to drum up some business for me. Maybe I’d have to put her on my payroll after all.

  ***

  The bell dangling from the front door of Ticks chimed softly, indicating a new customer. I put down the escapement wheel and file I’d been working with and stood up from my stool behind the counter to greet them.

  It was a man about my age. Early thirties. Skinny. A little sloppy. He doffed his hat to me as he noticed my attention, revealing a head of greased brown hair.

  “Well good morning there, sir,” he said with a grin. His attention strayed over my clocks in the display window as he made his way over to my counter. “Nice place ya got here. I knew someone’d gobble up this little piece of real estate in a Rapture minute.” He extended his hand to me. “Lionel Groose. Pleased to meet ya.”

  I shook his hand. “Arthur Winters. The pleasure’s all mine.”

  Lionel chuckled, taking a step back to survey the line of clocks set up in the glass case at the counter. “Welcome to Rapture. How ya liking it so far?”

  “Quite a lot, if I don’t say so myself,” I replied. I was about to ask how he knew I was new, but in a place like this, I’m sure immigrants were few, and word traveled fast. “Thanks for stopping by, Lionel.” I came around the end of the counter to join him, hoping he was here for more than just introductions. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”