by Ben Archer
And what’s on the other side of the mighty arch?
Absolutely nothing.
The entire thing rests on the edge of a steep cliff with nothing more than sand and air behind it. And of course they call the station “the Stairway to Heaven." Modest, they are not.
I say a fond farewell to several of the folks that have been so kind to us. Rita, who shared everything she owns with me, gives us one last hug and makes me promise to keep in touch. Then she slips another of those delicious sandwiches in my pocket for the road. The little old ladies continue waving all the way down the long walkway. Just as we enter the sliding doors I overhear the bus driver shout, "What’s this mess? We must have hit a coyote!" My toes curl as I shove Quinn through the doors a bit faster.
The guilt still weighs heavily on my mind when stepping through the grand entrance. But, once inside, I’m magically transported to the distracting world of a tacky genie’s lamp. Wall to wall cherry flavored velvet covers everything except the faux marble floor. Several rows of columns, straight out of a Greek fantasy, effectively divide the room into long lines. At the beginning of each row is a golden cherub to welcome us with a pen and basket of forms to fill out.
We scoop up the financial paperwork before claiming a spot to wait our turn. Soon a beautiful red head in a tight black corset appears out of nowhere to offer us free drinks. Her skimpy outfit ties my tongue so tight that only a caveman grunt comes out. I try recovering, but end up saying “you’re welcome” instead of “thank you.” It’s time to cut my losses, lay a few bucks on the tray, and slump away in shame.
Quinn’s judgmental eyes are anxious to share their critical opinion of me. In fact they can barely contain all the tearful laughter welling up behind them. She’s clearly amused by the whole thing, even if she won’t admit it out loud.
Fortunately, they’ve got processing the paperwork down to a fine art, so our time in the embarrassing line is mercifully short. People are checked off as fast as they can sign their name. Some are turned away for bad debts, while others are given a gold house card and a personal assistant. My credit score will get us neither of those things. It will only land us a tote bag with a pocket calendar missing the month of September.
With the prerequisite financial checkup out of the way, we’re free to track down the shuttle for the main city of Nexus. The rest of process is just like any other public transportation; find a line, claim a seat, and wait.
Luckily, this wait is also ridiculously short. We barely have time to stretch out before the ship lurches forward and we’re on our way. They seem pretty anxious to get us, and our money, up to the great cash machine in the sky. We’re told the entire trip should last twenty seven minutes and fifteen seconds. (They really do have everything worked out here.) We decide to pass the time with slot machines and a few table games. I have no idea what the object is, but I win twice! Then lose fourteen times in a row.
That’s when I decide to try my luck at the bar instead. Quinn settles in with another big bag of salty peanuts and a diet soda with lime. She stays almost silent until the conversation turns to Vegas, then her natural curiosity asks for every little detail about the place.
This conversation clearly shows the very different lives we’ve lived. Not just our ages, the worlds we come from. I remember how life was before the war, while this is all she’s ever known. Humans had absolutely no rights where she’s from. They weren’t even allowed to step foot outside the city due to the risk of infection. Every aspect of her life has been based around “the Lords".
She was never allowed to be a curious kid. All seventeen years were lived as a prisoner, where independence would be rapidly snuffed out by public execution. The time on this boat has been the most engaged I’ve seen her and Nexus should be even better! There will be an incredible amount of reckless fun and less violent ways to control our hunger. They have world-class plasma shops filled with amazing stews, pastries, tarts, smoothies, coffees, and cherry wines that you could get lost in.
Trust me, I have.
All of them are infused with the blood she craves, without any of the additional guilt. She wants to be disgusted as I describe them in detail, even as a bead of saliva forms on her bottom lip.
Chapter 24: Chasing the Sun
It takes a while to accept this new way of life. I mean, you live as one person, with certain rules of how to sleep and eat, then all that leaves in the blink of an eye. The monster seeps its sticky black fingers into every little crevice of your being. Concepts like murder and morality become innocent victims to the altar of satisfying it.
True story: I once knew a guy who was a vegetarian his entire human life. Well, after the change he couldn’t control that anymore. He would literally go vomit after every bloody meal. He was so disgusted that he refused to eat until his monster would eventually make him. He woke up from these blind rampages with no memory of the terrible things he had done. There were only countless pools of blood to let him know that it definitely wasn’t good.
This tragic cycle played on until he absolutely couldn’t take it anymore. One random day, when he felt the dreaded hunger coming back, he calmly laid his things on the sidewalk, gave his favorite coat to a passing stranger, and chewed through his wrists right there in the middle of the street. I suppose my point is that everyone has to find their own way. Though it’s easier for some than others.
My somber mood is interrupted by a soothing voice over the intercom. She alerts us that the ship has broken cloud cover and the best views will be off to the left side. Quinn abruptly bolts from her chair with a fistful of my sleeve. The girl tugs my jacket (with me in it) all the way over to the huge window.
Her over-enthusiastic hands spill my freshly made drink along the way. Even though it’s uncomfortable, it’s easy to laugh off since it will easily blend in with the rest of the dark stains. Quinn’s honest smile, as the clouds tumble away from our ship like cotton balls, make the freezing-cold clothes a distant memory. Her eyes twinkle from the sparkly white peaks spinning into magnificent new shapes every few seconds. They appear to be solid enough to scoop the fluffy mountains up into a delicious ice cream sundae.
In the middle of all the natural beauty is a rising monument to human construction. The massive stalk grows out of the thick clouds and finally gives us our first view of the four silver behemoths. This first city, appropriately named Prime, looms large over us. The ship purposely slows to allow us to enjoy the passing spectacle. At first glance the bottom layer appears to be one big mess of jumbled steel, but it’s actually an expertly crafted maze of tunnels with brightly colored shuttles running the labyrinth. Some are in enclosed tubes, while others merely hang down in the wide open sky. All the precise routes remind me of a slow motion game of Pac-Man.
We pass so close by another shuttle that its passengers wave to us. Quinn reaches out to the friendly people by pressing a hand to the glass. The window steams up under her lingering pressure. She refuses to look away from their kindness for even a brief moment. It’s not until the shuttle is completely from view gone that she finally decides to remove her hand from the steamy window.
Even though Prime is the smallest of the four, as we sweep by the middle layer, I’m astonished at how deep the city is. Its foundation is at least four hundred feet deep and coated in a dark chrome on the outside. Running around the center is a wide golden ring that gives it a very classic look. Great care has been taken to make the entire city appear built from one solid piece of steel. There are no visible seams or bolts on the entire thing. I’m such a sucker for architecture that I would have loved to design these mega structures in another life. The sheer amount of engineering it takes to turn metal and bolts into such a gorgeous piece of work is astonishing!
The strong midday sun cuts through the cabin as soon as we emerge from underneath the massive city. I have to look away from the blinding light, while Quinn remains fixated on the rising dome. She’s mesmerized by the towering casinos, grand buildings, and g
lowing billboards that make up the unbelievable little planet. Even the grass shimmers in an unearthly way.
Off in the hazy distance are the other smaller cities; Argo and Tetra, but they’re mere infants compared to big daddy Nexus above. If you put Prime, Argo, and Tetra together they still wouldn’t match the gigantic size of Nexus.
Quinn drapes herself over my shoulders to get a better view of the growing giant. This is the first sign of warmth she’s shown since we’ve come down from the mountain. If I didn’t know better, the way she’s wrapped is dangerously close to a hug. Most likely she’s caught up in the moment and I’m reading too much into it. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a small crack in her previously impenetrable shell.
While I’m contemplating the significance of a very simple act, she stares intently at the hovering giant as if it were an invading UFO. Its massive size swallows everything including the sun. This has to be what it’s like coming up underneath a planet! My head must have been really far up my ass on the last trip because I don’t remember any of this! Actually, I believe it was focused on the fiery red-head at the roulette table. You know what they say; red on the head, fire in the number two men’s bathroom stall.
What is it with Vegas and red heads anyway?
Also, why don’t I visit more often?!
While my mind is on a very bright haired lady, our ship coincidentally plunges into the all-consuming shadow of the city. Two chimes and a soft voice later, we’re instructed to return to our seats for docking. It takes some of the more matured passengers a lot longer than us. We’re already enjoying another bag of peanuts by the time the ship slides into an even darker loading bay.
Now this next part I DO remember, and it should really blow her mind! It begins with the same pleasant announcer asking for everyone to please remain seated. A few seconds later some bright flashing lights and horribly loud sirens ring out. Suddenly, the entire left wall drops away, and waiting inside is a completely blank room. White walls, no pictures, and very cramped. I’m really starting to hate small places.
When a confused Quinn glances over at me for direction, I refuse to spoil the surprise. Not the grand entrance she was expecting I guess? A couple stewardesses come by to aid the mobility challenged among us into the empty room. One of them happens to be the attractive redhead from earlier, so a few extremely awkward glances are exchanged. I grin and she gives me a look that could peel paint off the wall.
Anyhow, when the last wrinkled toe finds a place to stand, the wall closes and lights shut off abruptly. When a few anxious “eeks” come from the intense dark, I have to wonder if scaring a bunch of centennials is really the best idea???
"ARE YOU READDDDYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!"
A voice blasts out with a thumping beat. Green and yellow spotlights begin crisscrossing the crowd and everyone’s knees buckle slightly as the chamber starts raising. The club atmosphere doesn’t last long though, daylight is already flooding in from a small crack running down the middle of the ceiling. The split grows quickly so the two halves fold away like a box without a top.
For a brief time we’re stuck in the strange position of being bombarded by loud techno music, inside a crazy small room, with the midday sun shining in from the missing ceiling. It’s not until the elevator stops that the rest of the walls join in the origami magic.
One thing’s for damn sure, all these mechanical clinks, clanks, clunks, and pounding music are real torture on the enhanced senses! Within seconds the entire room has disappeared, leaving us standing in the very center of the Vegas strip.
“They do it in style around here Tiger!” I’m still shouting even though the music is long gone. "Pretty cool right?!?!"
"It's BEAUTIFUL!" Her wide eyes reflect the vibrant colors of this dreamlike town. Best of all, she’s wearing the first genuine smile I’ve seen on her.
The excited crowd is quickly (for them) spreading out to go their separate ways. All of the sudden it’s us in their way. Since we don’t really have a destination in mind, we move to a nice patch of neon grass to get out of the slow stampede. There’s a sprawling tree not too far away that seems like a good place to hide from the passing mob. It seems unusual to have such a natural beauty in the middle of all this fakeness. Though, it does make complete sense that it would be the first place I would seek out.
Quinn makes herself at home by stretching out on the smooth grass. I one-up her by taking off my shoes to let the silken strands run between my cramped toes. Who knows if all this is fake, but the talking squirrel in the tree surely is. Our furry friend breaks the ice with a very unusual joke, “There was once a very successful man from Chicago. He had a beautiful wife, three wonderful kids, and a great job making plenty of money. Then one day he heard a voice in his head saying, ‘Quit your job, sell everything, and move to New Vegas!’
It wouldn’t stop! All he could hear was that voice in his head and it was driving him crazy! Every day, ‘Quit your job, sell your stuff, and move to Vegas!’ He couldn't take it anymore! This HAD to be his calling!
So the next day he quit his job, sold everything, and moved to Vegas! He didn’t even unpack before the voice commanded him to go to the Bellagio. There was no turning back, so away he went! At the casino the voice directs him go to the roulette wheel, and put all your money on red 13. He immediately shouts to the dealer, ‘Put it all on red 13!’ The man behind the wheel is shocked that someone would bet all their money on one spin, but does as the man says. The ball drops into the wheel as a large crowd anxiously gathers to watch. Even the management and security come over to check out what’s happening. The heavy ball bounces around, and around, and around… until finally landing on black 12.
The inner voice says, ‘WELL DAMN!’ and he never hears it again.”
The weird little squirrel then laughs with all his mechanical might, before giving a final advertisement as the next group moves in. “Thank you folks. I'm here all week! No, seriously, I'm bolted to this tree! Could someone get a wrench? I know where to find one. Try Sky Daddy’s Gaming Emporium, open 24 hours a day, and don’t forget to order the veal! So has anyone seen my nuts?" the furry comedian finishes.
I pause for a few minutes to contemplate the very confusing story. Was it about gambling addiction? Or a PSA about mental health? To me, it will just be a funny story to tell the next bartender.
I can’t get my shoes on fast enough to escape the weird squirrel’s pleas to help find his “nuts.” We decide to leave the neon green pastures behind and hit the main strip instead. As fun as all the shops look, we decide to get something to eat first (She still isn’t calling it blood), then off to a hotel to get cleaned up.
The hardest part of finding food here is deciding where to eat! There are shops and street vendors on almost every corner. “Muffin’s Shake Shop” is our obvious choice since, well… could there be any better way of adjusting to the vampire lifestyle than MILKSHAKES?
Unfortunately, the resulting concoction resembles pink cottage cheese more than delicious happiness in a cup. While the pictures on the menu may be deceiving, I’ve certainly eaten way worse. Quinn, on the other hand, looks as if someone pissed in her cup. “Not quite what you were expecting huh?” She watches the glop like it’s getting ready to attack. To her credit, she does get in a few sips before gagging and dropping the rest to the ground. I ask if she would like something else while scooping the mess off the pristine ground. She can’t quit coughing, so she holds her arms up in a big X to let me know that no, in fact, she would not like any more of these delightful shakes.
Eager to put the diet disaster behind us, I suggest finding a place to lay low and relax. Looking at all these glamorous hotels has my ego craving far more than my meager budget will allow. We end up standing at the front desk of a ratty little hotel, talking to a man in a heavily stained wife beater. He doesn’t ask for names, or info, just how many hours we’ll need the room for. When I inform him that we’ll need it for three days, he actually has to open a book to find w
hat their daily rate is. We’re not off to a good start here.
But I reluctantly grab the key to our temporary home.
3rd floor.
Room 13.
Awesome…
It takes a few seconds of standing outside the door to prepare to open it. As long as there isn't a chalk outline on the floor, or man-sized cockroaches flying gang colors, it's gonna have to work. When the courage finally comes, and the door creaks open, it's honestly not as bad as I feared. Tacky as all hell, but I can get over that. The terrible wall paper of hundred dollar bills has an authentic Old Vegas feel to it.
Over on the lopsided table is a plastic plant in a cracked vase. At least they’ve tried to class the place up some? The hardest part is playing dumb to all the stains on the used-to-be green shag carpeting. It's not really even multiple stains anymore, just one big ass stain.
Quinn is walking around trying not to touch anything. I excuse myself to visit another very cramped bathroom. This one consists of a giant toilet, miniature shower, and one extremely cracked mirror. There wasn’t room for a sink, so they simply decided not to have one.
I didn’t really have to use the restroom, just take a few minutes without a forced smile and fake confidence. I want a few minutes where I don’t have to be strong for anyone else. It takes a wrong turn when I look into the cracked mirror and don’t recognize the man looking back. This is the first time I’ve seen all the damage up close. Some of wounds are healing; most are waiting for a fresh supply of blood before committing to the idea.
I’ve been colored with every shade of purple and green crayon in the box. Everywhere I look is something new. Fresh scratches over half-healed ones, bruises under busted blood vessels, somehow there are even cuts in my arm pits! The missing chunk of shoulder has healed better than most, although it still looks a little deflated. How thoroughly I examine myself would be creepy if anyone else saw me do it.