When she got home, she laid out the bundle at the foot of their bed. The same bed where Drake used to make love to her. Where he sometimes took her against her will when he came home drunk or frustrated about something that was going badly at work.
In the bundle, there was a keycard. Blank white on the front. A simple magnetic stripe on the back. No information on it at all. There was a hole in the corner, so you could attach it to a keychain or a lanyard. She pulled out her wallet and tucked the card inside, behind her ID. Drake used to get jealous and suspicious in the past. He would sometimes snoop in her wallet, thinking he might find a phone number for an imagined boyfriend. He no longer seemed interested enough in her to do anything like that, but there was no reason to leave the card in an obvious spot.
There were two other items in the bundle. One was a very plain looking pistol. An L-shaped thing with a trigger and a trigger guard. Completely blank and featureless. It looked more like a generic child's toy than an actual weapon, but that was probably the point.
There was also an ammo magazine. It was opaque, so she couldn't exactly count out the ammo and see if Oscar had told her the truth. But she could see that it had at least one bullet in it.
That was probably all she would ever need, she thought.
She put the pistol and the magazine into her purse, tucking them in under the feminine hygiene products and the bags of snacks and toiletries she always kept with her. As the wife of a man of such high standing, she was expected to be beautiful and poised at all times. Such a task required preparation. It required her to be ready for anything. She couldn't so much as cry at a sad movie, without rushing to the theater bathroom afterwards to fix her makeup. Not without Drake giving her a hard time about it. Reminding her of the "rumors" it would supposedly start.
Now that she was getting control over herself again, now that her view of the world and of her own worth was somewhat purified, she saw how insane and evil her husband had been.
Yet, now the only crime he was guilty of, was that of ignoring his wife.
These things made Gwen feel many different emotions. None of them good. There was shame and fear, and sadness, and above all a terrible fury which she could barely contain.
All that was left to do now was to wait for the right moment to act. Dutifully, she went downstairs to get her husband's dinner started.
◆◆◆
Five days later, her husband came home from work but only stayed long enough to scarf down a quick meal and inform her that he was going out of town on business. He would be back in a couple of days. He then gathered a few things and left without a word, without a kiss, without a hug, without even smacking her across the face for being so insolent as to demand a moment of affection.
Gwen stood near the window and watched as he climbed into his car, as it backed out of the driveway and went racing silently through the streets.
This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. It wasn't rare for Drake to go out of town on short notice. He usually does it about twice a month. There was no reason to suspect he was on his way to any place other than the airport.
She waited exactly one hour. Sometimes when he left like this he would double back a short time later to grab something he forgot. She paced back and forth, chewing her lip and tapping her feet, until she was certain he was gone for good. Then she went upstairs, breathing heavy with tension, to retrieve her purse.
It was time. She couldn't wait any longer. The sooner she solved this mystery, the sooner she could stop that gnawing feeling in the back of her mind. No matter how good or bad the outcome was, at least it would be over.
She walked out of the house, got into her car, and instructed the vehicle's Maestro AI system to drive her to the address Oscar Graves had given her. It was six and a half miles away, in the heart of the city. On a major street. Hidden in plain sight. No one walking by would give it a second glance. Even if they did, they would just assume it was some boring office building. Certainly not a door they needed to walk through, unless they were in the mood to sit in a waiting room and sip weak, complimentary coffee for several hours.
Gwen had the car drop her off quite far away. As she walked briskly along the street, turning her shoulders to pass slower pedestrians ahead of her, she found herself scanning the cars on either side. She half expected to see Oscar there; maybe he was worried about her, and was watching to make sure nothing bad happened. But she saw nothing. He was just a professional, and his job was finished. He had been paid. For all she knew, he was at home feeding his goldfish right now.
She saw the building, up ahead on her left. As unassuming and plain as Oscar's pictures had made it seem. As she neared the building, a spike of fear went through her. She found herself walking past, staring forward, refusing to even glance at the tinted glass doors. She went as far as the corner, stood for a moment as though about to cross the street, then doubled back and returned to the building.
This time, she pushed down her anxiety and nausea and strode through the doors. She was used to holding herself together in stressful situations. Remaining proud and upright when other women would have cracked and dissolved. It was a learned skill, pounded into her by a devastating moment of trauma as well as the years of enduring a tumultuous marriage. As the inner doors slid apart to let her through, she stepped into the lobby of the place, doing her best to look like she belonged. She was dressed in expensive clothes. Well groomed, elegant, beautiful in her own way. Never mind that she was a churning, twisting storm of nerves on the inside.
Would they detect the pistol? Would they take one look at her and realize she didn't belong? Would something else happen? All those questions flashed through her mind. She felt her stomach flip and her heart raced as though she was preparing for the start of a one-hundred-meter dash.
The lobby itself was a brief distraction. As simple and boring as the place looked from the street, it was anything but boring on the inside. The ceiling was all stained glass, looking through into an inaccessible lighted vault above. There were pillars all around, gothic in design. Powerful and carved in intricate detail. The floor was marble, polished so that it was basically a mirror. Gwen tread lightly, afraid that she might slip and fall. Then she realized there was a velvet rug, narrow and long, which ran along a designated path toward a service desk.
She quickly moved onto the carpet and followed it along. The nerves were back in full force. Now she was wondering what she was meant to do. Just walk past into the building, find her room? Or did she have to talk to someone first?
Luckily, she soon heard the doors opening behind her. Someone else was coming in. Gwen dropped to one knee and pretended to fix her shoe, letting the newcomer pass her. He walked up to the counter, pulling out his card.
"Good evening and welcome back, Mr. Hanlon," the woman behind the desk said. "Wonderful to see you again. I'm glad to see you're keeping in the habit."
"Gotta do it," the man said. "I'm thinking a light session today, Margaret."
"Sure thing, Mr. Hanlon. We'll get it set up for you. Go ahead and swipe."
Hanlon ran his card through a reader. There was a cheerful beep.
"You're all set," the woman confirmed.
Hanlon thanked her and walked away. Gwen noticed he had a towel tossed over one shoulder. He was probably on his way to relax in a sauna or something while the facility set up his light session, whatever that meant.
Gwen still had no idea what she was meant to do. But there seemed to be no harm in approaching the desk.
She straightened up and walked forward. The closer she got, the more she realized that something about this Margaret character was off. She seemed... flat. Or inhuman in some almost intangible way.
After a moment, Gwen realized what it was.
Of course. Margaret was an android. The female form Gwen faced was just an interface, an interactive physical manifestation of a rudimentary AI. The artificial intelligence systems that powered these types of humanoid machines were nowhere near as advan
ced as the Maestro system that powered virtually all contemporary tech on the planet, but the androids still did a decent job of blending in at first glance.
"Hello, ma'am," Margaret said, in a perfectly synthesized human voice. It wasn't particularly bubbly. Or overbearingly happy or patronizing. It was just natural. "Can I help you with something?"
"Yes," Gwen said, taking her wallet out slowly, trying to keep her hands from shaking. She slid her white card out of its slot, and accidentally flung her ID to the floor. Quickly, she bent to pick it back up. Meanwhile, Margaret smiled away. Unperturbed. Maybe she wasn't designed to be suspicious of such behavior.
Gwen decided she was overthinking this. She took a long, slow breath and regained her composure.
"Yes," she said again. "I've just opened a new account here. Under the name Gwendoline Myers." Oscar had told her he would use her maiden name. To avoid suspicion.
Margaret replied immediately. "I apologize, I'm not seeing a member by that name."
"Try just Gwen," Gwen suggested, refusing to let her anxiety take over again.
"Yes, there we are. Gwen Myers. I see you haven't been in to see us yet. Your account was opened remotely. Would you like me to give you the introduction?"
So, it had worked. Gwen tried not to let out a heavy sigh of relief. She didn't know how Oscar's guys had pulled it off, but they had. They must be very good at their jobs.
She looked over her shoulder, saw that no one was waiting behind her, and nodded.
"Sure. I'd love to know what I'm getting myself into, here. You know?"
"Yes. We like to provide our clients with answers to any questions they might have. But before we go further, I would ask you to go ahead and swipe your card."
The reader on the desk lit up. Gwen swiped her card, feeling confident, and was not surprised when she heard the same happy beep as when Mr. Hanlon swiped in.
"Very good," Margaret said. "I'm very glad you've decided to join us, Ms. Myers. We're still in a testing phase here, but our preliminary results are most astonishing."
"Results?" Gwen asked. Then she shook her head. "Wait. Let's start at the beginning. What is this place? What do you do here?"
"We are one branch of a privately-owned research facility," Margaret answered. "The Horizon Group has made the betterment of humankind its primary goal. And this is the latest iteration on that goal."
Gwen nodded. Now they were getting somewhere. She had heard of the Horizon Group, the parent company of the business that created the world-renowned Maestro system. A virtual AI system that was so advanced that you'd swear you were talking to a flesh and blood human if you didn't know any better.
Gwen's husband also used to talk about the Horizon Group, the way they had come onto the business scene and exploded in size and revenue. All while remaining quite mysterious, in regards to their inner workings. It was unfashionable to display suspicion towards them, however, because of all the good things they did - mostly outreach, aid to those in need. Aid to poor families, sick people with little to no access to adequate health care. They even funded and dispersed the cures to various diseases. The world, as far as anyone could tell, was a much better place with the Horizon Group in it.
Gwen suddenly felt a bit foolish. If her husband was coming here, it must be for some business reason. If he was working with the Horizon Group, it was no wonder he had become a better person. No wonder his tension was gone when he came walking out. Whatever he was doing here, it couldn't be bad. Could it?
Still, she didn't know for sure.
"Okay," Gwen said. "What do you do here, exactly?"
"The main purpose for this facility," Margaret said, "is to take the first step toward eradicating certain destructive behaviors. Or at least give them a harmless outlet. Ultimately, our goal is to reduce or even stop things like domestic violence and all forms of sexual assault."
Gwen felt her heart leap. So, her husband was coming here, to somehow work out his aggressions? She wanted to ask more, to really grill the AI, but she didn't want to show her ignorance too much and risk arousing suspicion.
"How is that done, exactly?" she found herself asking.
Margaret smiled, gesturing toward a stack of pamphlets. "You may take a copy of the introductory reading materials. When you're ready, we can get your first experience set up."
"Okay, that sounds good," Gwen said, though she had no idea what was going on. "Could you tell me how to get to my room? I'm bad with directions."
"Certainly," Margaret confirmed. "In fact, I can do better than just telling you."
The android reached down, lifted a small data slate off a lower shelf, and passed it over.
Gwen took the slate. On it was a virtual map of the building, identical to the real version, except that she could zoom through it at great speed, every hallway was marked and color coded, and she could move into a bird's eye view if she wanted.
"Thank you," she said to Margaret. "I suppose I can find my own way, now."
She moved away. Part of her expected that she would now be discovered. Some alarm would blare. A bunch of men with guns would come running out to apprehend her. But none of that happened.
A moment later, she entered a wide hallway with a median running down the middle of it, encased in glass. Under the glass, an entire miniature ecosystem thrived. Flowers and grass. Ferns and mushrooms. The glass was fogged with moisture. The covered median seemed to stretch along the entire hallway and even up the stairs, unbroken. It probably spread through the entire facility, she thought. Perhaps it was a way to relax people. Or to infuse the air with fresh oxygen.
Either way, she wasn't here to marvel.
Using the map, she quickly discovered where her room was and headed toward it. She passed a few people in the halls, but they all seemed to be employees of the facility. Dressed in the same jumpsuits, with the same blank look on their faces. She didn't even know for sure whether they were real humans. They didn't look at her, or act suspicious, and that was all she really cared about.
As she walked along, she noticed something on the map. Another hallway, running parallel to hers, which led behind the rooms. Like a ghost, or a mirror image. They were probably maintenance and access corridors for the workers, she decided. A way for them to "set things up" without intruding on the peace and calm of these main halls.
Up a set of stairs, around a bend, she finally approached her room. It opened with a swipe of her card, and she stepped into what at first glance seemed like the nicest hotel room she'd ever been in. And she had been in more than her fair share.
Everything was neat, shining and beautiful. Top of the line furniture and fixtures everywhere. The floor was more solid marble, without a single seam or line for anything to get stuck in.
Without thinking, she went over and sank into the bed with a long sigh. She even kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes around for a minute, luxuriating. As the thought of a bubble bath briefly passed through her mind, she remembered why she was here and sat back up.
Just then, she heard a knock at her door. She got up, walking over the hard floor in her socks, and opened the door. One of those blank-faced employees was there, holding a plain white envelope.
"Apologies," he said. "This was meant to be given to you at the front desk. Mistakes are made, sometimes."
"What is it?" Gwen asked.
"Something left for you by one of our other clients."
Gwen nodded, took the envelope, and shut the door. She went to sit on the bed and open the thing. Inside was another keycard, along with a note which read:
Hope all is working to plan. Hope you find this note. You're probably wondering how I got it in here, but don't ask. Doesn't really matter. This keycard is an exact copy of the one your husband uses. It will let you get into his room. Good luck. Vaya con dios.
What a perfectly Oscar Graves way to end a note. She threw the note into her purse, to be destroyed later. She put her shoes back on, checked to make sure she still had her gun,
then left the room. She walked slowly, giving herself as much time as possible to reach her husband's room. Trying to push down her nerves again. Unfortunately, their rooms were quite close together. His was just at the end of the hall.
His room was clearly different than hers. First of all, it had a set of double doors, rather than just the one. It even had a special designation on the wall next to it. Rather than just a number, and the initials of the occupant, it had also had the title SUITE 2A stenciled beside it.
But the card reader was the same. Gwen paused for a moment, considering her options. If her husband hadn't checked in at the desk first, would it be seen as strange that his room was being accessed now? Would the system flag it as a suspicious event, lock her out, and then send someone to investigate?
There was only one way to find out. What was the worst that could happen? She might get her fake membership dissolved. Kicked out of the building and banned for life. Then she would be right back where she started. No change.
She swiped the card. A long moment later, the cheerful beep came and she heard the whir and click of the door unlocking. She twisted the handle, pushed, and stepped inside.
Yes, this was definitely a suite. Just the entry room itself was enormous. The ceiling was ten feet high, the lighting bright and brilliant. Artwork hung on the walls. Each piece fit Drake's taste perfectly. He must have picked them out himself.
Gwen shut the door and continued down a hallway. There was a kitchen to one side. A bar complete with a set of stools. There were rooms everywhere. Doors. Most of them shut. It looked less like a hotel room and more like a very expensive condo. A place where someone could easily live indefinitely.
This must be some kind of premium package, Gwen thought. She didn't even want to know how much Drake had spent on this. And at any rate, she couldn't know. He kept most of his finances separate from hers, and he did what he wanted with his money.
In a moment she arrived in the main room. A sort of living room. There were chairs, a sofa, a coffee table... and a mess. Two of the cushions on the sofa were dislodged, shoved out of position. A chair was lying on its back. There had been two glasses on the coffee table. Drinks.
Darkside Dreams - The Complete First Series Page 6