A black limousine takes Ryan to the city center, to the headquarters. Having his hands pressed against the window, he watches the jaw-dropping skyscrapers pass by through the tinted glass.
Lynda’s mother is envious of Ryan’s capacity for excitement. Being a senator’s wife, even an ex-wife, she is fed up with the boredom of luxurious life. She leans forward and reaches over to the handheld game console that is lying next to Ryan. Immersed in the scenery of skyscrapers, he does not notice it.
She tries to remember Lynda’s smile by staring at the game console. The dark gray screen reflects her eyes yearning to see her daughter again. The image also shows the tears that her cried-out eyes can no longer shed. The innocence of a teen wavering in the watery eyes, the image gradually changes to a reflection of Lynda. Holding the bars that appear on the screen, Lynda silently screams for help. There is no sound, but it is not hard to tell that the lips are spelling the sacred word ‘Mom’.
A tear drop escapes Lynda’s mother’s eye when she caresses the image on the screen.
“Wow! What is that?” Ryan asks, pointing to a monstrous, sphere-shaped skyscraper at the center of downtown. The top hidden behind a smog cloud, it seems that the building reaches all the way to the sky. Without any rival, the green giant is the sole ruler of the city as well as the sky above it. It almost looks like it is a planet of its own. Similarly to Saturn, it is surrounded by rings.
“That would be the headquarters,” Lynda’s mom responds with a voice lacking any excitement, and then quickly turns her face back on the game console. “They’ve moved here after the last Series C financing raised by a few secret investors. Rumors say that the Pentagon has signed an exclusive contract with them, pending the successful release of the game. Imagine how the military is going to use such technology. The corporation’s future all depends on the success of Uranus now.”
His eyes fixed on the headquarters, ‘Game’ and ‘Uranus’ are the only words Ryan grasps among all the finance jargon. A monstrous double-rotor helicopter that is painted like military vehicles lands on the side of the headquarters’ rings. Ryan figures out that the rings must be a freeway connecting the helicopter landing platform to different sides of the sphere.
“That must be Senator,” Ryan says, “the giant helicopter, I mean.”
“Men! The big vehicles are to compensate for something else,” Lynda’s mother sneers. “Trust me on that.”
“Compensate for like… like their salaries?” Ryan asks, puzzled.
“You’ll get it,” she responds with a restrained chuckle. “Give it time.”
The limousine briefly stops by the stairs that lead to the entrance door. It must be hundreds of them, Ryan thinks, getting ready for the climb. His hand barely reaches the door handle when the limo drives away, entering a narrow street with Do Not Enter signs all over it. Gulping in anxiety, Ryan turns to ask Lynda’s mom. He, however, decides to hide his fear when he finds her calm, staring at the handheld game console.
After a minute, the limo stops in the middle of the empty street. There is nothing on either side but bushy maple trees. The trees on the left slide away, showing the secret entrance door that opens afterward. Ryan wants to say something but swallows his astonishment when he notices Lynda’s mom’s indifference.
“I think I knew your mother,” Lynda’s mom says to Ryan while riding the glass elevator. “We met at a charity event she organized. It was about underprivileged children, if I remember correctly.”
Although his ears sharpen when he hears his mom mentioned, Ryan keeps his eyes on the glass window, watching the city becoming smaller and smaller.
“She was a honorable woman, a true lady,” Lynda’s mom continues, “a giver, always looking for ways to help others.”
Ryan turns a bit to the left so that she cannot see the tears well up in his eyes. The glass elevator goes through smog. It not only blocks the view but also makes the glass window act like a mirror, on which Ryan can see the reflection of Lynda’s mom.
She stops talking about Ryan’s mother when a tear falls from his eye. “I’m sorry,” she continues, “I don’t know why I mentioned that. May she rest in peace.”
“Arriving at Floor 2020,” the female computer voice says on the speaker. The door opens, and Lynda’s mother steps out. Ryan stays put, his hand still on the glass window. He pretends to be watching the scenery although there is not much to see through the black fog.
“Ryan,” she calls.
“Yeah,” he squeaks, following it with a sniffle. “Let’s do this,” he says, turning away from the window. Ignoring the puzzled gaze of Lynda’s mother, he walks ahead so that she cannot see his watery eyes.
After a laser scans their faces, the door to a relatively dark waiting room opens to them.
“Welcome, Mr. Ryan,” a female voice greets. “If you kindly follow me, I’ll be showing you the way.”
Ryan looks left and right, looking for the owner of the voice. Lynda’s mother points to the flying robot right before them. Mouth agape, Ryan follows the robot. Flying robots are a known but luxurious technology that is rare to see in daily life—certainly not in the daily life of a commoner like Ryan.
The waiting room is more like a narrow, long hallway that ends with a few empty chairs. One of the chairs is occupied by a man in black suit. When they get closer, he turns out to be Senator. Staring at his wristwatch, he plucks his lower lip with alternating fingers as though it were the string of a guitar.
“Have a seat, please,” the flying robot offers.
“Oh, the hero is here,” Senator says. “Come soldier. Your place is next to me,” he continues with a generous tone.
Ryan turns to the other side.
Lynda’s mother has taken a seat on the furthest chair from Senator. Perhaps I should sit with her, Ryan wonders. Holding the handheld game console, she avoids eye contact. Ryan turns to Senator when he hears him patting on the seat. He sits with Senator eventually, hesitation obvious from his every move.
“Can I offer you a refreshment?” the flying robot asks Ryan.
“Ah… do you…might please have some juice, like… apple juice? Please.”
“One glass of apple juice, coming,” the robot says, and with that its top slides around, and a glass of apple juice magically appears.
Amazed, Ryan picks up the glass and takes a sip of the magical beverage. It tastes like any other apple juice.
Senator checks the time on his wristwatch again.
“What is that we are waiting for, exactly?” Ryan finally dares to ask.
“Young man, you are about to see the great man who runs the entire corporation. Not many people have the lifetime honor of meeting him. He is like… like the Steve Jobs of the virtual reality industry. You’ll see in a minute.”
Twenty minutes later, Senator has fallen asleep. Tilting the glass practically upside down, Ryan tries to catch the last drop of the juice. Senator wakes up when the flying robot announces: “The president will see you now.”
“Finally,” Senator says, picking up his leather briefcase from the other chair.
The light pours out when the sliding door opens. While fixing his tie, Senator enters. Lynda’s mother rushes to go next when the flying robot blocks her way.
“Excuse me, ma’am. I’m only authorized to receive Senator Honestman and Mr. Ryan Public.”
“But I’m Lynda’s mother.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. May I suggest you go back home and wait for the news?”
“I’ll go nowhere without my daughter,” she states firmly, sitting on the chair next to the entrance.
Standing by the door, Ryan cannot take his eyes off her.
“Please proceed, Mr. Ryan,” the flying robot insists and with that Lynda’s mother turns to him.
“You’re my only hope, son,” she softly whispers to Ryan, putting the handheld game console in his hand. “Save my Lynda.”
“Soldier,” Senator calls from inside the presidential room.
“I’ll come back with Lynda. I promise,” Ryan says and enters the room.
The sliding door closes behind him, leaving Lynda’s mother alone in the waiting room, which now appears much darker.