Chapter 2 - Commons

The sterile light of the ether, the memorial of floating menus, dissolved into nothing. All was black.

The fog rolls in like a silent tide,

Covering the pond in a blanket of white.

The trees are shrouded, the birds are still,

And the only sound is the gentle lapping of the waves.

Huh? What was that?

No answer from the Concierge.

A fragment. A thought. A memory? Then it was gone. Whatever it was–gone.

The darkness turned once more to light. This time it was neither sterile nor pale, but assaulting the senses. I found myself standing in the middle of a street, if it could be called a street. More of an alley for foot traffic. A small, bustling section of some great city, stretching beyond the horizons of my perception. My eyes moved over an array of neon signs and hanging lanterns.

I was not alone.

A crowd of people in varied attire brushed by me in the alleyway, moving between open stalls, storefronts, and establishments unknown. Some met my gaze. Most ignored me. In one of the stalls, a heavyset man in a stained apron chopped tentacles off a writhing red cephalopod with a cleaver and tossed them into a sizzling wok while patrons crowded around on stools.

“Move it,” someone grunted as they roughly shoved past.

I became aware that I was blocking easy passage through this sidestreet and stepped to one side.

I tried to get my bearings. The sky above was lit with artificial lights, piercing whites, purples, and blues, from windows and structures stretching high above and far away. Beyond that was the dark of night, but I saw no stars nor moon.

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The city was built out in nested enclaves. Mounds upon mounds of sleek, jutting structures. A metropolis designed by termites. Most was obscured from my view by the limited sightlines afforded by this crowded alleyway.

Seeing another narrow corridor cutting between buildings to what I took to be a larger street, I made my way there, nearly stepping on a cat in the process. It hissed and leaped from one shadow into another.

A stray cat? It was not something I expected to encounter. Was that the sort of invasive entity I was supposed to take care of?

Leaving the corridor, I found myself at a sort of intersection where three larger streets converged. A hub for whatever this small section of the larger city was. I saw no vehicles here, only people traveling on foot. However, some craft did occasionally pass overhead.

On a concrete island in the center of this intersection, large, rotating, floating neon letters declared this area to be The Commons. Directly beneath this gravity-defying sign was a sort of tube extending out of the ground. The term ‘phone booth’ came to mind, but that wasn’t quite right. Closer inspection revealed that this tube was an Information Kiosk.

Ignoring the other buildings, I headed straight for the kiosk. I waited for a scraggly-looking person using the kiosk to finish, then I ducked inside and slid a round, transparent door closed behind me.

There was a small square screen with a scratch on it, speaker ports, and a glowing red light.

Please scan your identifier.

The voice sounded like the Concierge. I hesitated.

Please scan your identifier.

I assumed this meant the barcode on my wrist, and lined the numbers etched into my tan skin against the red light. There was a chime, the light turned white, and the small screen flickered on.

Welcome to The Commons. What information would you like to access?

I’m new here. I’m not sure what I need to do next or where to go. I am a Volunteer?

There are several locations of interest to Volunteers in The Commons. These include but are not limited to: the Residential Towers, the Armory, the Supply Depot, the Repository, the Data Forge, the Task Assignment Boards, the Restoration Point, the Archives, the MAR Station, and the Rathskeller.

Rathskeller. What is that?

The Rathskeller is a popular gathering place for Volunteers in The Commons. Please note that Citizens are prohibited from visiting this establishment.

Am I a Citizen?

No. You are a Volunteer.

The little screen highlighted the location of this Rathskeller on a blinking local map, and I made my way there. Other Volunteers. Maybe I could at last get some answers.

Minutes later I stood before a graffiti-strewn brutalist structure, several mismatched cubes stacked on top of one another. The bottom level was partially enclosed by slatted fencing and illuminated by disc-shaped streetlights. On one side of the building a staircase descended below a gaudy neon sign of a rat. No words or other symbols, just a rat.

This must be the place.