The Relics- The Keystone Trilogy - Part 1

by Michael K. Damron

  Hao’s face turned a darker shade of red. After taking a deep breath, he said, “Well, let’s get going while the night is still young.”

  “Should I order us a shuttle?” said Robbin.

  “I think it’s a better night for a walk,” said Hao, hoping that his friends would rather get to the restaurant by foot. “It’s really not too far away.”

  Robbin seemed frustrated. “Are you serious, Hao? We took a shuttle last time and everything was fine. Your fears don’t reflect the statistics. Have you ever even been in a shuttle accident?”

  “Well,”—Hao wished he had a good excuse—”It does happen, and you never know who could be hacking a vehicle, and you have more data collected about you when you take autonomous vehicles, and—”

  “It’s not like we have to drive ourselves around anymore,” said Jack. “We’re not living in our grandparents’ generation. It was way more dangerous to get in a vehicle during that time.”

  “That’s not my point,” said Hao, pointing his index finger at Jack.

  “The ShuttleShell Company tracks your every move. They have cameras inside every cabin that—”

  “Ugh, if you just shut your mouth, we’ll all start walkin’ to pacify your stupid phobia,” said Robbin.

  The friends made their way toward the city’s downtown district for drinks, food, and, with a little luck, fun.

  In recent years, the downtown district evolved into a common hangout for students from multiple colleges around the area and young, local workers alike. During the nighttime, all aspects of popular culture and new trends could be observed throughout Beijing’s vibrant streets.

  After a brisk walk, the friends arrived at the heart of the downtown area.

  “We’re nearly to the restaurant, boys,” said Robbin.

  “Good, I’m starving,” said Cong, “I can’t wait to get some grub!”

  The group walked into The Black Duck where many people were waiting to be seated, as was usually the case with any of the district’s restaurants. Robbin went inside to check on the status of their reservation and walked out moments later looking disappointed.

  “Even though I already put in for a table more than an hour ago, it’s another hour to get on the roof and thirty minutes for most of the other floors. I guess the digital reservation was a waste of time.”

  “Give me a few minutes,” said Hao, walking toward the restaurant’s entrance. Jack and Robbin began talking about the frustration that commonly came from companies and businesses who have trouble getting their digital side to align with their physical side.

  “You know, there was a time not too long ago when people would run into this sort of thing all the time, or have to make several calls in order to confirm things,” said Jack. “At least it doesn’t happen very often.”

  ”I know, I know,” said Robbin. “It’s just that, as a business, why are you going to give people the option to use an interface that craps out on your customers?”

  “It gives me an uneasy feeling,” said Jack. ”I don’t like doing everything digitally or using my screen’s personal assistant feature because it’s really not free to use. Everything you do on your screen is being collected by large organizations and the data can be used to build a consumer psych profile on you. They advertise the AI to be this sexy, necessary thing, but it just scares me.”

  Robbin held up her hands in surprise. “Jeez, you’re starting to sound just like Hao.”

  Just as he estimated, Hao walked out of the restaurant after only a few minutes.

  “They’re prepping our table, as we speak. We’ll be seated on the roof, momentarily.”

  “Dang, Hao,” said Robbin, “using that famous family name again, huh?”

  “It comes in useful, at times.”

  “I’ll take what I can get!” exclaimed Robbin, “We should have brought you along the last time we ate here so we wouldn’t have had to share a large table with some belligerently drunk tourists.”

  “Yeah, agreed,” said Jack. “One of them tried to have a physical altercation with me for reasons I still can’t quite put my finger on.”

  A stewardess soon walked out of the restaurant to address Hao.

  “I will escort you and your party to your table. Please follow me.”

  The design of the rooftop made it seem as if you stepped into an exotic garden. Each table had a pygmy version of a certain kind of tree growing through its center. The space’s atmospheric lighting involved a slow pulse of various purple and blue hues, inspiring a feeling of calm in the diners who ate there. The stewardess sat them down at a table with a beautiful plum tree growing through its center and crystal glasses filled with cold water. Their waitress for the evening was already waiting for them as they took their seats.

  “Welcome. My name is Xiaoyen and I will be your server this evening. May I take your appetizer or salad orders and start you out with something else to drink?”

  “I’ll have a garden salad and a glass of your house red,” said Robbin.

  Jack and Cong stuck with water while Hao ordered a gin and tonic. Cong was the only one to protest eating any sort of healthy greens. Too cheap to order an appetizer, he ended up snacking on some candy he smuggled in his vest before leaving the college.

  “It’s kind of nice to have a waitress, isn’t it?” said Hao.

  “Nah,” said Cong. “I like it better when I can just order off a screen at the table and have my food brought out by someone or something that doesn’t talk to me.”

  “You’re so impersonal!” said Robbin.

  “If it were up to you, Cong, droids would be the only things around to serve people and nobody would talk to each other, ever,” said Jack.

  Cong pondered the idea for a moment. “Do you think there’s a chance of that happening!”

  “Okay, enough of Cong’s weird fantasies,” said Hao. “I do have a topic I wanted to bring up. Excluding Cong, we’ll be graduating in a couple of months. It’s even crazier to think that our final VAT results come out tonight. What do you hope your placement is?”

  Jack gave his water glass a blank stare, wishing he didn’t have to give much thought to the subject.

  Robbin was the first to speak up. “Unless something changes, I’ll actually be heading back to the U.S. to begin an apprenticeship . . . at Dr. Rick Webb’s lab.”

  “. . . The Rick Webb?” said Jack.

  “Holy crap,” said Cong, sucking on a piece of candy. “You’re gonna be showered with money and job offers by the end of your apprenticeship.”

  “That’s very impressive,” said Hao.

  Jack looked bewildered. “That’s crazy, because now it doesn’t even matter what vocation placement result you get, does it? Working for someone like Rick Webb will allow you to work anywhere you want as a scientist. Have you been keeping this from us for a long time?”

  “No, not long!” said Robbin, defensively. “I found out recently and didn’t want to say anything in case the whole thing fell through.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got a great start after school,” said Hao, “how about you, Jack?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I don’t think I’ll get a basic career placement, but I don’t think I’ll get an advanced one either. My dream has always been to become an advanced-level scientist, but I also know the low odds of someone with my grades getting one of those positions. I don’t think my parents realize what a long shot it would be for me to achieve that. I just don’t know . . . they’ve done so much for me and I don’t want them to think that I’ve been wasting my opportunity while in China. They’ve invested so much in me. I’m nervous I won’t even get technologist status and I’ll just be given a technician job where I do grunt work all day.”

  “I’m sure you will do just fine for yourself, Jack,” said Hao, trying to steer his friend away from any further anxiety. To be courteous, he also addressed Cong. “And what direction do you see your life heading in?”

  “Probably toward an advanced placement as a
gastronomy scientist,” he said, smirking.

  All three of them laughed at the idea.

  “I don’t believe you’ll have too much of a problem achieving that goal, based on your love of food and science,” said Hao.

  The waitress came back with everyone’s drinks and respective starters, but also sat a glass of brandy in front of Cong.

  “I’m sorry miss, but I didn’t order this drink.”

  “Yes, I know sir. The brandy is complements of the gentlemen sitting at the ginkgo tree table.”

  All four of them turned to look in the direction of the table she pointed to. Sitting there were six young men, all with different variations of well-groomed facial hair. They were donning an assortment of goatees, mutton chops, Fu Manchus, chin curtains, among other kinds of facial hairstyles. Collectively, they raised their glasses to Cong, probably the only Asian they had ever seen with a magnificent handlebar mustache. Cong reciprocated their gesture by raising the glass of brandy to acknowledge their gift to him.

  “A pleasure being in the company of fellow gentlemen!” he yelled across the rooftop for all to hear.

  Hao exhaled in an aggravated manner, while Jack and Robbin began to laugh at the scene that just unfolded.

  The waitress took the order for everyone’s entrées after the laughter died down and left the friends to continue their conversation.

  “Wait a minute, Hao, we almost forgot to ask you. What are you planning to do after graduation?” said Jack

  “My father will begin transitioning me into the family’s company,” said Hao, with little excitement in his voice, “and eventually I’ll work my way toward becoming the CEO . . . so that’s my plan.”

  “No, Hao, they can’t do that to you!” said Robbin. “It’s great to have the option of joining the family business, but I know how much you love art. You’re an amazing artist. I’ve seen some of the stuff you’ve created and it’s absolutely incredible.”

  “It’s what my parents want me to do, so it’s what I have to do. I mean, it doesn’t even matter how I perform on the VAT. My future path is mapped out.”

  Robbin gave Jack a look of concern hoping he would echo her viewpoint.

  “She’s right, you know,” said Jack. “You’d be happier as an artist.”

  “You honestly think I don’t know that?” he said, looking aggravated. “You know who I am. My family’s fortune is derived from the company my great grandfather started as a young man. I’ll be the third generation to bring honor to the family name by becoming what I’m destined to be.”

  “But what if you’re destined to be an artist?” said Cong.

  “I’m not. My destiny’s been decided by more than three generations of my family. They wanted me to go to a prestigious school, but I begged them to allow me to go to a regular college so I could study science while being surrounded by everyday students. The real reason I wanted to go to a public university is so I could covertly take the art, music, and design classes I’ve been taking as electives. Expensive, private universities don’t offer those kind of things. I’ve had my fun with being creative while in school, and now it’s time for me to face the music after graduation and do what will honor my family’s dynasty.”

  A few minutes of silence later, Xiaoyen brought out the group’s entrées.

  “Is there anything else I can get you to complement your dishes?” she asked.

  Everyone was content with their meal, except for Cong.

  “May I please have some ketchup?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Ketchup!” gasped Hao. “I’m sure everything is seasoned to perfection without the addition of runny tomato paste.”

  Cong paid no attention to him, slathering his food in his favorite crimson condiment.

  After they finished with dinner, a discussion began on the group’s next venue for the evening.

  “Will it be The Fleet Falcon or Lucid Waves?” asked Robbin.

  “Neither,” said Hao, “both of those places have some of the weirdest people hanging out there.”

  “Oh, Hao, you really are worried we’ll stick you with some femdroids again, aren’t you?” she said, smirking.

  “You do have a unique ability to find them whenever we go somewhere. Their attraction to you seems magnetic!” said Jack.

  “Ha, you’re both such a riot,” said Hao, unamused. “Why don’t we go to Dodecagon? That place is just around the corner.”

  “Actually, I heard that place closed down and is now called something like The Quantum Octopus,” said Jack.

  “Oh geez, it is one of those places where people in there early thirties go to party like they’re in their mid to early twenties and maul each other on the dance floor while exchanging various communicable diseases?” said Robbin.

  “I don’t know,” said Jack, “I haven’t been there since the remodel.”

  “It’s new, so it will probably be packed with people,” said Hao.

  Robbin looked baffled at Hao. “When is a club not packed with people?”

  “. . . then The Quantum Octopus it is,” said Hao, putting his hands in his pockets while he led the way.

  “If nothing else, it’ll at least be a good place to do some people watching,” said Robbin.

  The group walked a few blocks to the newly opened club and was impressed by what they saw from the outside. A geometric arrangement of triangular screens were illuminated above the club’s black glass doors with an animated octopus in an astronaut helmet that disappeared from one screen and reappeared in another. It was also mesmerizing to watch the letters making up the club’s name, as psychedelic colors and graphics cascaded through them every few seconds. The front of the club had black glass windows consisting of more geometric shapes, making a unique mosaic on the building’s façade that pulsed and swirled warm colors. With every beat of the music, random glass panes would go from black to translucent, teasing outside onlookers with what they were missing inside the club.

  “I know I was poo-pooing this place earlier, but I take it all back. It looks amazing!” said a wide-eyed Robbin.

  Hao looked impressed with the new venue. “The outside design is exquisite. I can’t wait to see the interior.”

  Jack turned to Hao with a brilliant idea. “Hey, this line looks impossibly long. I don’t know if we’ll be able to make it inside if we’re just now getting in the queue. Since your family’s kind of a big deal around here, do you think you can use your name to get us in easier?”

  “Normally I would not abide such a thing, but since the line to get in is awfully long . . .”

  “That’s the spirit!” said Robbin.

  They walked up to one of the bouncers at the front of the club and Hao extended his left forearm to have his civilian chip scanned. The bouncer’s eyebrows elevated slightly when his handheld device revealed Hao’s identity

  “Right this way,” he said. “Please come inside and follow Frederick to your personal booth.” He pointed to a young man dressed entirely in black, waiting to guide them.

  As they walked through the club, Robbin leaned toward Hao and spoke with a joking tone.

  “Now, why is it again that everyone thinks you’re so important?”

  The club’s interior was just as interesting as its exterior. The waiters were dressed in all-white suits and ties and the waitresses had on white form-fitting dresses. There was plenty of room on the dance floor to hold a majority of the club’s guests while black tables of random polygonal shapes flanked the floor on all sides.

  The group was seated at their booth and had their drink orders taken. Everyone requested a spirit of some sort.

  “Are you going to let me drink you under the table again, Jackson?” said Robbin.

  “Pfft, I don’t need a lot of alcohol to let loose and have a good time,” said Jack. “Besides, I prefer to remember the nights I go out with friends—not get blackout drunk and start flirting with a service robot near the restrooms.”

  Cong began to laugh
hysterically, remembering the event Jack was referring to. Robbin immediately went on the defensive.

  “Those androids are so realistic! I could have sworn I was talking to one of the most attractive, thoughtful guys I had ever met with a legitimate interest in who I was as a person. He said some of the sweetest things to me. And I was very upset when I found out he was a droid!”

  “When the droid asked you if you’d like another drink, you said, ‘I would love it if you bought me a drink. That’s very sweet of you.’ Eventually you slurred the name of the drink you wanted and when the droid asked for your tab number, you gave it your screen contact info!” Jack said through spurts of laughter.

  Robbin’s face turned the same color as her large red drink that had just made its way to the table. As the boys finished up their collective laughter, their booth was approached by a rather handsome young man, undoubtedly eyeing Robbin. “Excuse me, miss. Would you like to have some fun by joining me on the dance floor?”

  He stretched his hand out toward Robbin.

  “Human or android?”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Do you have a brain or an algorithm in that head of yours? Trust me, I’ll never live it down if I don’t double check.”

  Jack and Cong started to laugh again.

  “Oh! I’m a person, not a droid,” he said, keeping his hand outstretched.

  “Then, I’m game!” said Robbin, gulping some large sips from her drink before taking his hand and crawling over Jack to join the perfect stranger on the dance floor. She looked back as she walked to give the boys a smug look of triumph.

  “Ask her if she will do ‘the robot’ with you on the dance floor, she’s really good at it!” Cong quickly yelled to them as they walked away.

  Robbin made an obscene gesture toward the table and disappeared into the dancing crowd.

  “Quite the firecracker isn’t she?” said Hao.

  “I’m sure she’s been that way her whole life, although we tend to bring it out of her a good bit,” said Jack.

  Cong suddenly had a big smile flash across his face and leaned toward Hao.