Yeung-Sung stretched his legs out in the hall. 10,000 deaths? Is that even possible? Over the past what… three days? He made a shorthand calculation, gritting his teeth as his calves groaned and threatened to seize up on him. He would have had to die, on average, two and a half times per minute. No, he had to be joking. Still he felt uneasy. He stuck his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie and blinked rapidly. That is commitment. Wil’s far more ready than I am. He also blinked as an adjustment to the blinding, plaster white walls. Absent-mindedly he stuck out a bandaged arm, then grimaced. Almost grey. He quickly put the arm back inside the pocket and began to stroll when he saw someone: John.

The security guard stood sentry in the corner of the walkway. But as soon as their eyes met, he ducked down into the stairwell without a word. The echo of hurried steps clamoured behind him. Each wave fed the next, and as Yeung-Sung slid his hand down the first railing he was awash in the sound. Shuffling his feet slowly over each step, he wondered whether he was heading down of his own volition or whether he was giving chase. He tried not to make the same racket. But inside his pockets his arms were trembling, arms tight around his phone. And under his clothes his lungs stuttered. By the time he made it to the ground floor he could detail each point of swelling in his neck. Slinking into the lobby he began wheezing, forcing him to hunch over for a few moments. He looked up to spot John inside his receptacle. The guard was typing away but kept stealing over scurried looks in his direction. The Korean grabbed at his hips and pulled himself up. Really? He’s just going to ignore me?

He stared at the guard, making him uncomfortable, until he was satisfied. Shrugging his shoulders he limped over to the front, looking out at the ottomans, the vending machine, the fake-looking plants. All as he had remembered. Cleaner even. Up at the window, he peered through to where he lay dying a day before. Sighing, he muttered, “As if it was all a dream.”

John coughed behind him. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to leave”.

Yeung-Sung turned, chuckling at that. His breath escaped in a dry purr. “I’m not going to,” he said, “this time.” He looked to the back. “I think I might just lie down on the couches a bit.” He started in their direction, but then vending machines over to the right wall caught his eye. They stocked variations of snack, drinks and chocolates that he recognised. There was even was even some fruit near the top -apples and oranges- though they were browning quickly.

Intrigued, he hardly paid attention to John’s clacking heels as he left his cubicle. “You want something?”

“Yea.”

John looked at the machine and back. Rustled in the pocket of his black suit pants. “You don’t have any money,” he said flatly.

“No more, no.”

“I’ll get it for you.”

Why? Yeung-Sung looked over about to ask him, when he noticed how white he was. The man wasn’t red from embarrassment, he was a pale pink. He’s scared of me? He kept in a laugh. Am I a ghost to him?

“I’ve never known security so on edge.”

John avoided his eyes and went up to the vending machine with Airgead up in his hand. He bought Yeung-Sung a snack; something covered in red tinfoil. He didn’t explain what it was. They walked over to the lounge together, Yeung-Sung fiddling around with it. John pointed to a coffee machine by his desk. “No thanks,” was the response. They sat in silence as Yeung-Sung popped the contents – Pills? Sweets? They grinded down through his throat. However, they tasted like exotic fruits. Yeung-Sung reclined on the leather coach, his arms across it’s golden-black pillows. John scratched his forearm through his shirt with his mouth clamped shut.

“I’m not scared of him,” Yeung-Sung said, his gaze wandering up to the chandelier above them.

“Who?”

Raising a curled eyebrow, he looked back at John. “Jordan. Who else would I be scared of?”

Swallowing, John said, “Um, no one.”

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“You’re scared of him though.” Yeung-Sung pointed. “Do you think that’s right?”

John dropped his hands and gripped his lap. He stared straight across. “I’m scared of him in the same way -the same way that someone fears God. You don’t realize, and it’s not only you, that he’ll stop at nothing.”

He shook his head then. “Never mind,” John said, face growing softer. “Do you know about his wife?”

Yeung-Sung remembered. He hadn’t thought about it since his first night, but the memory of his experience sobered him up. He sat up on the couch and leaned over. “Oh, yeah. I heard. But I don’t know any of the details.”

John nodded. “Your Airgead account page. Show me it.”

Yeung-Sung handed him is phone. John browsed for a moment. “Like I thought.” He showed Yeung-Sung the screen.

[#1000]

“It’s her number,” he explained.

Yeung-Sung took the phone back. “Alright but-,” he started. Then he understood. Pa-king! “Wait! That’s why they brought me, isn’t it? And why I was the only one, the last one. Because she passed away, and they needed a replacement.”

An autocar approached. He had the sudden fear that it would stop outside, that his conversation here was being watched, that what he said was inappropriate to the spirit of Jordan’s wife. He managed a sigh of relief as it passed. It felt like exhaling gravel.

“Wasn’t his choice. The UN had demanded he have 1000 members for the experiment to be valid.” John spoke low. Pronounced his words slowly and let them out with respect to Yeung-Sung’s grasp of the language.

He’s all in black. Yeung-Sung jolted his hands off the pillows. He felt needles all over where he had touched the dark couch. Breathing through it, he clenched his hands into fists.

“So he hates me because I remind him of his dead wife? Excellent”

“Not only that,” John chuckled. He clasped both hands over his over his mouth (pok!) at his behaviour. He forced the joke from his face and said, “It’s a bit morbid, lad, you see.”

“Una was her name, and like you, she would never agree with Jordan. She never let him have his way, and he couldn’t tell her no. When she found out about the experiment she demanded to join, to see it for herself.” John waved a jittery hand around to the plants, the couches, the vending machines. “Those were her idea, along with the shops, their resources and any other concessions not tied directly to Airgead. She wanted everyone to enjoy their time here, because he could make that happen.”

He wiped his eyes and continued, waving an open hand and a fist like puppets of the couple. “Where Jordan was anti-social or cold, Una was warm and a real people lover. But where Jordan was endlessly self confident and driven, she was -she was…”

John took a deep breath. “Well, self-conscious, and riddled with anxiety. With an addictive personality to boot.” He shrugged deep, his eyes shut and face pointing down. “Honestly, it can’t have been easy to be Jordan’s wife. Like…Jordan! Could you imagine?”

No, I cannot. Somebody like that -leaves me with big shoes to fill. But John, what aren’t you telling me? Why are you so concerned about it? Yeung-Sung left his questions unattended and just listened, allowing the security guard his emotional release, nodding along.

“Although she hated the premise behind the experiment, the idea was actually spurred on by her,” John said.

Oh? Maybe this explains something. “Really, how?”

John’s cheeks swelled in a smile beneath his weeping eyes. “They wanted children.” He bit his lip anticipating Yeung-Sung’s reaction. “Una more than him, but he wouldn’t allow her to raise a child during, ya know, this economical kaput.”

“Okay, but did…”

John exploded, “Haha, nono you don’t understand Yeung-Sung. So strong was Jordan’s love for her that he pledged to rebuild the entire world. Single-handedly if he could! Just so she could be a mother in peace – in safety.”

“That’s insane!” Yeung-Sung slapped the side of the couch, shouting out in pain a moment later. The sudden anger startled John, who jumped up.

“Ahh!” Yeung-Sung yelled, “So he’s not doing this to benefit the rest of the world! All of this is, it’s-”

“-All for the greater good,” finished John, his fingers making quotation marks, “But with her gone…” He looked away, out into the night that shrouded up against the shining glass entrance.

Yeung-Sung stood too, his arms crossed over, shaking in pain and hugging his shoulders. “There’s no telling what he’ll do! Someone -anyone needs to take over him before the end becomes any worse.”

“Any worse?” John exclaimed. The guard narrowed his eyes. “How? Don’t misunderstand me, Yeung-Sung, Jordan is in a rough state but that is exactly why we should be doing everything we can to support him” He crossed his arms. “Any way we can,” he finished, nodding at Yeung-Sung’s phone.

Yeung-Sung tightened his jaw. Yeah right! I’ll just forgive and forget. No problem at all. His phone buzzed. I did misunderstand. For a second I thought you were going to tun out sane. He turned to the stairwell and waved.

“I’m off. Thanks for trying, John, but he did this to himself. I’m not going to let him win” Smiling, he made a heart with his thumbs.

John stepped after him, “Wait. Yeung-Sung! Someone will come around in the morning to check up on your bandages. If it gets too stuffy in there you can always slide back a part of your window screen.”

Yeung-Sung looked back a moment to hear the explanation.

“There’s thin seams webbed all over them. Use your fingertips.” He chuckled a little as Yeung-Sung started again.

“What?”

“I was just thinking, don’t open up too much and fall out.”

Yeung-Sung had enough. He cracked his neck back. “Why? Is that what happened to Una?”

.