The lady, wearing a long black skirt and a fuzzy jumper, arrives back into the room. She comes in with two tablets and places one in front of both Amy and John, whose minds still linger with questions.

  The lady sits opposite them, landing in the chair dramatically.

  “Alright!” She says. “Sorry for the hold-up, we weren't expecting you until later. So, my name is Delta and I'll be giving you the details for today, okay?” She speaks with an accent that sounds exceedingly immature.

  “Okay.” Says Amy contently. “Yeah.” Says John at the same time.

  Delta continues. “Amazing! That's just great. So… I'll get to the chase.” The two look down at their tablets, a disorienting slideshow with a childish graphic design center view.

  “So this place is called, uh, Hastings Museummmm and, uh, the town of Hastings was obliterated shortly after the rainfall began because, uh, it didn't have any infrastructure for the rain and it just kinda rotted away and, so, uhhh… yeah!”

  John looks up from his tablet, having just looked at an old picture of the building with a true blue sky and green trees and grass. “This place is called a Museum? What was it used for?”

  “Oh, sooooo… uh, pretty much.” Delta continues, very animated and energetic as she speaks. “It's a place people used to keep stuff from a very long time ago. Like, stuff from like, uh, a thousand years ago and stuff. It was like… seniment— sen— sentamet— ugh! Sentimental! And or… uh. Or something.”

  John looks again to the image, then back to her. “How old is the building above us?”

  “Uhhhh…” Delta says. “It was made in, like, 1920 or something.”

  John looks at the image again. “1920?! That's only a hundred and sixty years ago! That's not that long when you think about it!”

  He replies, having assumed it would be much older. Amy asks out of curiosity. “So enough about the building. That's all important to know. But we also need to know what we're doing here.”

  “Huh?” Asks Delta. Amy implements her patience. “Like… What do you people do here? Who are you? What's our job? That sort of thing.”

  “Uhh… I don't know!” Says Delta with enthusiasm, rising from her seat and going to the staircase. “I'll go get Gary to find out!” She leaves with. The room is filled with the sound of mechanical keys tapping, computer fans whirring and a faint buzz of light. Lightning would creep in from outside on occasion, but the rain was mute underground.

  A stomping came from the stairs, growing louder as it got closer. A short, stocky man with a high-pitched voice and east-coast accent yelled at the room of computer dwellers as he entered.

  “OYE! ULL ‘O YUH! WHO’S FOO-KIN IDEA WAS IT TO LEAVE DELTA TO WELCOME THUH NEWCOMERS EHH?! WHOSE FAWKIN IDEA!?!”

  The group stands at attention to Gary, but no one pipes up. Delta moves next to him. “It was my idea Gary!” She says proudly.

  “Ahh, alright then.” Gary responds, moving to her seat opposite John and Amy.

  “Go upstairs hon, go play with Jimbo or somethin’.” He holds her head in his palm, his well developed arms— particularly triceps, on display from his tank top.

  “Okay Gary!” She says, heading back up the staircase.

  Gary shakes his head. “Ai ai ai… Apologies fuh that yuh tooh. Dis’ place as’ become a ‘stinkin mess...” He waves his hand in the air, and all the others go back to their computers.

  Gary sits up straight and extends his arm for them both.

  “Muh name's Gary. Gary Schmidt. It's a ‘pleasur to meet you two both.” They shake his hand as they introduce themselves. Gary leans in intently, using gestures and his hands to accentuate what he says.

  “So, the ‘lowng and short of it ‘tis that we spread our messages online ‘ova the ‘inanet.”

  “Internet?” John asks, barely understanding his thick, extinct accent.

  “Oh, sorry, ‘duh ‘Cawntentsphere’ as you'd call it.”

  He gestures quotation marks as he says the modern name.

  “I've been doinis’ for some years now...

  Ain't no one knows uh man called Gary Schmidt in the outside world! Now, we're happy to take on people who see through the bull crap of ‘ol Kubaal Aetheon. The only trouble is dat, well, they got the world by duh’ balls these days. So! We offer you safety here, and in exchange… you help us propagate owuh’ message. Sound clear?”

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “Sounds like a plan.” John agrees, hoping that he is better able to understand his accent soon. But Amy has a different reaction.

  “Is that it? Can we help out more in some other way?”

  Gary looks at her funny and leans back, folding his arms.

  “Really young lady? You two wanna do some extra work?”

  “Of course.” Says Amy, John nodding as she speaks. “Anything we can do to help. People need to wake up. They're suffering. It's not okay.”

  Gary gets a crooked smile, putting his hands behind his back.

  “Well, well, well. Fantastic! I'll organize a little meeting with you two fuh’ later but… mmmph!” He pumps his fist into the air.

  “Thank Christ the Almighty!”

  He sits back down and turns back to the two, who have been rather static this whole time.

  “Do ‘iether of you two have more questions? I gotta call to take soon.”

  “Where do we rest?” John asks.

  “Wherever ya wanna.” Replies Gary. “It's a museum! And all the beds we have are for sick. So just find a place and take it.”

  John picks up his pole and rises to his feet, Amy joining as he pushes in his chair. “Well, thanks for the introduction Gary. I look forward to knowing you and your team a little better.”

  “Likewise.” Says Gary. “Go get some shut-eye you two, I can imagine the trip here wasn't ‘ouldat pleasant.”

  “You can say that again.” John quips. Gary continues, pulling out a small plastic brick that folds outwards and has an antenna.

  “Come meet with me tomorrow or whenever you two wake up. You have no idea how long I've waited for some keen people in ‘ma ranks.”

  “Will do.” Says John, struggling to climb the stairs even with some assistance from Amy. They emerge at the top, and it feels like a century has passed. Jimbo has moved somewhere else.

  They are attracted to an exhibition which looks like an ancient tribe. Feathered hats and hides as clothing, looking similar to the beast from the cave. It was cool to see something like this with some actual history, yet alone in an analog format. Not a hologram.

  John sits down next to one of the human figures, Amy sitting on the other side.

  “This is so fucking weird.” He comments. “I thought this place would be like some sort of resistance. It feels like more of a daycare.”

  Amy rolls around to join his side, taking off his jacket and rubbing his back. “These people are broken.” She says. “They've been through a lot, stuff we don't even know about yet.”

  He looks at the ground, playing with his fingers. Amy's hand feels nice on his sore back. “I don't know man. I'm grasping at straw.”

  “Haven't we always?” She argues.

  He agrees. “Yeah, we have. And that's the problem. The more shit changes, the more it stays the same. Just with a… different coat of paint and a fresh smell.”

  Amy nods in acknowledgment. “You're tired John. You've done a lot today. You're overwhelmed. I know, because I feel that way too.”

  John lies down on the fake dirt, wondering if this is what it actually feels like. Amy moves her hand and kneads his shoulder, a thought manifesting clearly for him.

  “Once all of this is over Amy. After all of this crap is done. There is only one thing I wish to come of it.”

  “What's that?” She asks, her contentment with his company showing through in her voice. “I just hope that it was worth the trouble. That… in the end… it wasn't all for nothing, y'know?”

  “It won't be.” Amy says, lying down close to him as the rain pours on the outside. “Do you think it'll be alright?” She asks him, whispering into his ear as she reaches for his other shoulder, her arm crossing over his chest.

  John responds, his voice low and honest.

  “I really don't know. That feels nice by the way.”

  “It'll be alright.” She hopes, even closer now. “I know it will be. You're amazing. We'll find a way to make things happen.” She backs up a little, moving her hand into his and holding it. They both stared at the light of the ceiling. Not neon. Not incandescent. Something in-between. The roof was a washed beige, and its tiles were porous. John grips her hand firmly as she continues.

  “I've got a lot of things to say. To tell people. That I think will resonate with them. I'm gonna try a lot of the online stuff. What do you think you'll do, John?”

  He considers the few possibilities he believes are available, though one catches his fancy. “I enjoyed the ride here with Jimbo. I feel like I could get used to driving around in one of those.”

  “Racer boy, huh?” She asks, teasing, a cheeky smile on her face. She turns towards him slightly. John returns the look, a fat grin on his face.

  “Not quite. Like a… manual autocab most likely.” John looks away, back up at the roof. “But a racer dude does sound exciting.”

  Amy looks at the roof too, his smile all she needed to see.

  “Have a dream about it John. It's been a very long day. It's about time we sleep like that guy said.”

  “Gary?” John asks, already knowing what she meant.

  “Yeah. The sooner that conversation happens, the better.”

  “Just like old times…” Amy says, referring to them sleeping on the floor.

  “Yeah…” John replies. “Old times…”