Based on the notes of Blaire Faraday.
The Avalon, as I came to learn the name of the thing we were on, is one of the biggest ships built in the first third of the 20th century. I had seen pictures in the press. It was, supposedly, a prototype for another vessel which was still in the design stage at that time, the Zealot. At some point while in our drunk stupor, the ship had arrived and the entire train was moved inside with a continuation of the tracks. By the time Ursula and I woke up, we had left port a couple of hours ago, and Southampton was far away in the horizon.
—So now we’re going to New York City, from there we have to do a small tour through America— Doctor Munoz was drinking his tea with disgust, and promptly left it for a glass of juice and a cold toas with jam—. Chicago, Seattle and San Francisco. It seems like we are moving through the seams instead of going straight to the training grounds.
—How you know any of this? —Ursula had returned from the bathroom, and her face was exhibiting a sickly pale green.
—They left us a briefing in each room— he said, showing us a small hand-stitched book with the same logo as the cups—. All we are supposed to know before the meeting lunch in the First-Class dining room.
—Lunch?
—At two. I will see if they need me for anything— He finished his drink and stood up—. If you excuse me.
Doctor Munoz left, stepping out of the car, and my mind immediately imagined him falling from a moving train. I had to remind myself the train was not going anywhere. While Ursula stared at the blank wall, I stood up, finished my tea and went back to my room.
In my, now completely made, bed, was a small book like the one the good doctor had. Same diamond with “RF”, but it had my name right under it, in the same golden letters. I wonder if they were already expecting on everyone who followed their cryptic clues to accept the job. If not, how many of these books have the names of people who are never going to see them? Where did they put them? I imagine a large hangar with endless piles of the same book with the names printed, collecting dust somewhere.
— “A very detailed account of the guidelines, notes, and considerations regarding the future Terra Nova Research Base” —I read in the first page. Such a large title for such a small book; it probably had about a hundred pages or so—. “By A. Athenida”. Perhaps a sibling or something…
The book was divided in four parts.
The first one was the introduction, where it addressed me by name and announced my job for me, who my direct boss would be, who my co-workers were, and what the delimitation of my tasks would be. Blaire Faraday, 27, part of the First Retrieval Team under the guidance of Taryn Darbinyan, whatever that was. What followed was a list of names, of which I recognized two. One was Ursula, who, by the sound of it, had just broken a cup. The other was from my time at the museum, a name I’d seen in a few boxes, “Paolo Ortiz”, whoever he was. The other were Fletcher, Fletcher, Tang, Soleil, Linde, and a plethora of others, but the names didn’t ring a bell at all.
—So, I have someone to look for, while I’m here.
The section marked “Tasks” was just an index of three columns of numbers preceded by the prefix RAIN. It was numbers that looked randomly put, and with no other explanation. I made a mental note, and a physical one I scribbled in a corner, to ask my boss what that meant.
The second part was History of Sophia and the creation of the Terra Nova Research Base. I decided to read that later. The third one was a very detailed map of an island, labelled “Terra Nova Research Base” with too many points to remember at first glance. If we were to live in that island, which if we’re going to San Francisco has to be on the West Coast, I probably should learn it. And the fourth was just two pages, one said “Schedule” and the next one was dated for today and had marked a couple of things in it.
At two, like Munoz pointed out, we’re expected to join a welcome lunch in the First-Class dinner hall for the entire Retrieval Department, followed by a tour of the ship. At four “training exercises” at the pool (this place has an indoor pool!). At eight a “hearty meal”. And at ten “Drinks and music at the Prohibition Bar”, which made my head pulsate with pain. If these people solved every work by drinking, neither I nor my liver would resist a month.
—It seems we’re part of the same team— I said, waking up Ursula, who was dozing off in her chair—. We’re both on retrieval.
—Oh, that’s nice…I guess I should get dressed. Certainly, I can’t be in my bathrobe all day!
—We have lunch at two. I’m going to have a shower, you maybe get a bit more sleep, okay? In your bed?
She nodded but was already falling asleep again on the chair. I was tempted to do the same, but I was beginning to feel alcohol dripping from every pore on my skin. Dear Lord, how much did we drink last night? I entered the shower, and remained there long enough so if I slept inside with my mouth open upwards, I could drown myself.
Refreshed and with less of a headache, I got dressed and, while Ursula ran to the bathroom, left the train to explore the way to the dining hall.
It was through the cargo hold, by a catwalk, through a heavy metal door. This led to a corridor on the bowels of the ship. The place seemed deserted, though I must have passed by a couple dozen doors with room numbers in my way to the main deck. This was clearly a private cruise ship part of the RAIN-Falcon corporation, much like the train, and it continued to amazed me how I never heard of the company before this week.
Of a place probably meant for more than a thousand people, there was, at most, forty or fifty roaming around the halls, decks, and common areas. The doors to the pool, as I came to find, were under lock and key, with signs at them that said the place was “under repairs”, of which I imagined was a code for whatever they were turning the place for the aforementioned training. I found some people resting in lounge chairs looking at the endless ocean, others playing darts, and a few just chain-smoking harnessed to the rails and with nothing but grey smoke clouds to make them company, as they seemed to not want to chat with anything nor anybody.
I was thinking, I don’t remember what, walking down a corridor, when I crashed into her. In my defence, she wasn’t looking where she was going either. Her sight was obstructed by a large stack of books and her foot trampled by a small lapdog.
—I’m sorry, so sorry— I said, standing up and immediately helping her to stand up.
She was a middle-aged Asian woman wearing a tan pant-suit and large octagonal glasses. However, the thing that caught my attention was her necklace. It was a silver chain with a large black pearl encased in a circlet of gold and with small specks of diamonds encrusted in the latter.
—It’s okay— the woman said, as I helped to pick up the books—. I was taking this from the ship’s library and I guess I should’ve used magic to carry them around. I’m Tang Zhu, by the way, but everyone calls me Dr. Tang.
—Blaire Faraday— she gleamed when I said my name, a sparkle in her eye—.
—Oh, my new co-worker! —celebrated— I saw Mr. Ortiz a few moments ago in the theatre, they’re announcing a performance of “Much ado about nothing” for the evening. I probably should leave this back in my room.
—Yes, ma’am. I’ll see you at lunch.
I don’t know if she heard me, because as soon she had all her books in a floating stack, was walking fast on the way I was coming from.
I assumed the library was down the hallway, and something about Dr. Tang was itching the back of my mind. If there’s a place where I could get answers without casting a truth hex, it was the library. My father said once, books were our light in our search through endless darkness and ignorance.
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