Who Can Be Trusted? Him or Us?
PREVIEW OF THE CHAPTER:
They were interrupted by Alfred, who pulled them by the arm and whispered in their ears:
— Don't engage too much. You might reveal something.
— Reveal something? Even the readers don't know what we're planning, let alone them... H.K. said with disdain.
...
...
...
The car was finally approaching the mainland area.
Everything seemed to be going well. They began to feel slightly tense about what might happen next.
All sorts of thoughts ran through his mind, things like:
— Will we make it out alive?
— I don't trust this Treiber, and I don't think he trusts us.
— What a different place! Now that's evolution...
— Calm down… Calm… Argh!
— What truly chivalrous men.
— Everything seems too good to be true...
Their thoughts were tangled in a mess of murmurs and reflections, almost as if their minds were intertwined and they could feel what each other was thinking.
— Gentlemen, as you can already see, the traffic here is not very heavy, since most visitors already live in the city and use this place for business...
— Very well, Mr. Nafte, could we get off right there in the middle?
— I see you like to draw attention, sir...
— H.K.
— Mr. H.K., youth suits you well, in my opinion. So be it. Is this arrangement acceptable for the other gentlemen and ladies?
— Whatever — they shouted in unison.
The car continued straight ahead and finally arrived at the center of the location.
The setting was as follows: The car stood in the middle, at the end of the track. A massive building loomed in front of it. The area was circular, surrounded by rectangular metal planters scattered around the perimeter.
Many people were walking there, ranging from men and women to full cyborgs and half-machines.
Just as Sanfte signaled for them to exit the car, it started to rain—a sign of good or bad omen, depending on the culture.
The group stepped out calmly, though still internally apprehensive as they spoke amongst themselves. Smith was conversing with the Butlers, handing them a tip with a forced expression, seemingly doing so reluctantly.
As the group gathered and was about to proceed, someone placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder. However, he showed no sign of surprise and responded with his usual gentlemanly demeanor.
— Do you need something, sir?
— Don't you remember me? Hans, your old friend. Oh, don't tell me it's been so long that you've forgotten me.
— My goodness! Old Hans? Forgive me, my friend, I vaguely remember you. I had a flight accident some time ago and lost part of my memory—one of those that can't be replaced with robotics or artificial means. Since I have trouble finding my way around, I bring these fine security guards with me to ensure my protection.
— My friend, come on! Give me a hug.
He embraced him, but for Alfred, it felt like an extreme invasion of personal space.
— But tell me, my friend, why are you here?
— I discovered there were some unresolved business matters that, obviously, I don't remember, so I came to check. I'm looking for Taejun. Tell me, who exactly is he? We know little about him these days. One of my men was once an old acquaintance, but he hasn't had any contact with him in a long time and has no idea of his whereabouts...
— Ah! That won't do, my good man. Stay at my house tonight. And don't worry, there's a room for all your employees...
As he finished speaking, he called over a man leaning against a bush, smoking. The man wore a black overcoat and had a metallic implant where his skull should have been, leaving him without hair. His eye was red, which caught the group by surprise—after all, this was a technology they had never seen before.
— Bionic eyes? Cyborg eyes in humans? H.K. thought to himself.
The man in the overcoat waved at them and led them to the other side of the building. As they walked around it, they realized the place resembled a plaza, with the imposing building at its center.
He led them to a red limousine with black speckled details across its body. Unlike the others, this was a flying car—something only the wealthy could afford, making the journey smoother. Later, the group would realize that this man was one of the richest in the city.
They were ushered into the car, with the man in the overcoat—still smoking—opening three doors for them to enter. The interior was entirely black, from the seats to the windows. The car's windows provided access to various digital content, reminiscent of the old internet that had existed on Earth between 2000 and 2030.
The rain continued, bringing a certain melancholy to the group. They were sent off alone, without Hans, as he claimed he needed to "attend to some business."
Smith, however, was suspicious of the entire situation.
— Things aren't always free like this. Something's wrong, and I and these kids might be walking into a trap, the old man thought to himself.
…
…
…
A limousine stopped in front of a mansion.
The entrance was marked by a massive metal gate, ten meters high, with a wall extending around the house at a height of 9.5 meters. The wall was made of metal but entirely crimson red, making the gray gate stand out oddly against the rest of the environment.
The man opened the car door, and H.K. and Harvey asked for his name.
— My name is Peter.
— Then I imagine you're not from around here, Mr. Peter?
— Indeed... You may call me Mr. Lynch.
— Thank you very much, Mr. Lynch.
They were interrupted by Alfred, who pulled them by the arm and whispered in their ears:
— Don't engage too much. You might reveal something.
— Reveal something? Even the readers don't know what we're planning, let alone them... H.K. said with disdain.
Alfred's face flushed, and he walked ahead.
The path to the gate was a small gravel track, surrounded by grass.
— Too perfect to be real grass. Maybe it's artificial, or maybe someone highly skilled trimmed it, thought the young Shawn, who was always very quiet. He was the most suspicious and observant of the group but rarely shared information.
Mr. Lynch placed his hand on a panel beside the gate, scanning his iris while speaking a few words.
The imposing gray gate slowly descended into the ground.
Once it was fully retracted, Hans' mansion came into full view.
First, they saw that the gravel road continued straight ahead, curving around something in the middle—a fountain, from which water poured directly from Hans' mouth (a statue).
Mr. Lynch gestured for the group to enter and asked Alfred if he wanted the security guards to accompany them.
Alfred quickly glanced back and caught a fleeting scowl on Smith's face.
— They must come, absolutely. I can't be apart from them. Sometimes I lose control of my senses.
— Very well! Follow me, gentlemen.
Mr. Lynch led the way, pulling another cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with a lighter built into his index finger.
They walked around the fountain, casting brief looks of disdain.
The mansion had a structure similar to a palace, its architecture seemingly chaotic.
They ascended a few steps and walked down a long corridor extending around the entire small palace, starting from the main entrance hall. It was supported by numerous thin metal pillars, giving it a disorienting appearance, as if it had been designed by a child.
They followed the corridor to the left and arrived at a door near the main entrance.
Mr. Lynch opened it, revealing a vast room, also entirely structured in metal.
However, it was empty. There were only three armchairs and two sofas facing the door. Beside the door, inside the room, a screen was mounted on the gray metal wall. Next to the screen, in the corner, stood a shelf of digital books.
It was two meters high and five meters long—a massive red holographic display replicating a bookshelf. The digital library was organized into rows, with labels above each row describing the rarity level, from Rare to Unique Copy.
Mr. Lynch informed them that Hans would be arriving shortly and asked them to wait on the sofas.
— He mentioned he would like to have a conversation with you, sir.
With that, he exited, disappearing deeper into the iron palace.
Then, suddenly, Smith noticed something peculiar:
— He never called Alfred by any name!
…