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Jinae had always been a bustling city. Its name was known far and wide as the jewel of the galaxy, a bright shining example of what ingenuity and promise could create in an otherwise barren planet of rock and dust. Its reputation had reached far and wide as the safe haven of weary travellers and its busy streets thrived through sandstorms and meteor storms alike. Yet all of the life was nowhere to be found when Jean walked through the abandoned rubble of where the proud city had once stood.
In the two years since the catastrophic meteor storm had ripped through the city, scattering both debris and people, only the ferns and vines had grown through the cracks in the concrete and over the ruins that now stood for walls. In the centre stood the crown jewel of the city, a tall, luxurious hotel adorned by its name, "The Oasis", in a glorious cursive at the very top. It glistened in the stark sunlight, casting a dark shadow out across the lesser buildings that had toppled around it. Almost unscathed by the fallout of the damage, the hotel stood proudly in the centre of the debris.
Stepping his way inside, he nudged away the gravel at his feet, his old brown leather boots scuffing against the carpet and the marble floors. Cracks worked across the ground, spreading out like a thin, wobbly network of veins. Ferns peeked out in holes in the floor, wrapping their way over chunks of marble, to meet with the vines that swirled and climbed the walls. Each leaf bobbed in the subtle wind passing through the shattered glass and torn curtains of windows on the back wall.
The warm brown of the interiors made the otherwise desolate place seem oddly homely. Rich mahogany wood lined the walls lacquered with intricately patterned wallpaper, too fine in detail to see without closer inspection. The front desk lay in the dead centre of the large foyer with a long marble path marked out from from the front door to the hotel's name embossed on the marble in big iron letters. A standard communicator crystal lay to its left side, rising out of the marble, glistening in the dim light streaming through cracks in the high ceiling above. More light joined it from the large window at the top of the flight of stairs at the rear corner of the foyer.
The whole room looked and sounded empty. Perhaps he could make out the rustling of the vines by the window or the ghostly creaking of the stairs, but only if he focused hard enough. It was a nice enough refuge from the hot midday sun that he considered the damp smell of soil and rot to be welcoming. It would be a nice place to take a few shots before journeying further into the valley to add more photos to his collection.
Jean had spent the greater part of the year documenting the remnants of civilisation on the outcrop of planets at the end of the star system. Jinae had always been a place he'd been meaning to visit after he'd heard of the evacuations and the devastation left by the freak meteor storm's path a few years back. The news had been plastered with images of women and children running, androids standing firm and directing the way, holograms flickering in their attempts to calm civilians. These kinds of disasters were almost unheard of, and yet they still happened and caught most of the city of Jinae by surprise.
Two years passed and what remained of the city was merely a collection of rubble and memories. Some of the lights still flickered and electricity sparked through the lines, but it was rare to see more than the ghost of what was. All of it was still functioning from the long standing solar power grid. The city would glow in the dark if the meteors hadn't destroyed most of the lights and solar panels. In the day, the sunlight glared off the silver and iron rooftops and sent light cascading back up into the sky like a beacon. It was never hard to miss the city. The room Jean stood in seemed unusually dark in contrast.
He rounded the long front desk to gander at the beauty of the historic building. Turning to check behind the name, he could make out a series of black boxes. Each flickered with a series of different lights, wires leading towards the communicator crystal. Jean had to wonder whether the thing still worked. Crystals like that were meant to withstand natural disasters. It was no surprise that it had made it through without a scratch. In fact, the entire area around the desk appeared to be entirely whole, undamaged and probably functional if Jean gave it a proper look.
The large chunk of sandstone by the stairs became his seat. Sitting down, he propped one leg over the other and checked over his jeans. They were dusty and scratched up from climbing over the worst of the rubble, but they were still in one piece. His hoodie had made the journey remarkably well too. He hadn't needed the inbuilt helmet and breathing apparatus like he thought he might of. That was a relief at the very least. Clothing like this had to last, more so for Jean’s hardheaded approach to exploration.
Exhaling heavily, he swung his camera bag over onto this knees. His camera had made the journey surprisingly well. He'd been worried about the amount of dust in the air and had stuffed the side pockets of his bag with spare lens cloths, just in case. It never hurt to be too careful.
The camera body felt weighty and comfortable in his hands when he lifted it out of the bag. His favourite lens followed: a simple mid-range lens that was perfect for capturing all the detail. It had survived the last two years as his perfect companion. The journeys out into the outpost planets were lonely and long but there was a certain peace he could find out here. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
"Let's put you together, huh?" he croaked out to his camera with a voice worn from disuse. The lens slotted into place with the same familiar click as he held it up for inspection. Taking a deep breath, Jean draped the strap over his neck. "Now... what's The Oasis got to offer, huh?"
Asking the empty room of stairs and marble and crystal felt as normal as walking forward. He left his perch of stone and waltzed around the room, searching up and down for the perfect shot with the camera held close to his face. The rubber of the viewfinder pressed softly against one eye while he closed the other. There was something familiar about looking through the world with a lens. It was calming to be a passive observer. Jean wouldn't have it any other way.
The gaps in the ceiling gave glimpses of the hotel rooms towering above. Glass elevators appeared more like glass bird cages, hanging up in their tracks as if waiting for the perfect opportunity to fall. The building was a mix of the best of the old world and the brightest of the new. The press of his finger on the shutter button caught it all in snapshots. He tilted his head and shuffled around to grab the best shots. Blindly working his way backwards and face skywards, his feet felt his way.
His boots hit against one large chunk of rock and he was stumbling backwards before he could stop his momentum. He snatched the camera down from his eyes, holding it secure in his hand, while his other shot out to catch his fall against the communicator crystal. The touch of it was cold against his skin. It had been left unused for so long that dust settled on the top shook off in the impact.
A sudden light brought the crystal to life. A low buzz started humming as electricity pulsed into the transparent gem. The crystal's hologram formed with a flickering of the laser into action. It took a few seconds before it sprang the image into life where the light scattered and the laser stabilised into a solid beam into the crystal. Like all holograms, the image was three-dimensional, a full image created by the scattering of light in the right circumstances. The sunlight in the foyer was just enough to see the image of the man clearly.
Jean moved his way around the glowing beacon of the desolate hotel. The image of a young concierge filled the crystal. Dressed in a fine black suit with an asymmetrical lapel and tan lining, he appeared the very image of the hospitality profession. Over the years Jean had seen many men like him, hands neatly placed before their perfectly lined buttons of gold, waiting for the next enquiry or command.
His hair was clean, parted just so, strands of his dark hair falling gently across points of his forehead. He stared straight ahead as his voice called out, "Greetings traveller." The sound of his voice was as sweet as his smile and as handsome as his face. His broad shoulders were stiff but kind. His eyes were warm and brown and dark, seeming to bury into Jean’s the longer he stared, despite their gazes never connecting. “My name is Marco. How may I assist you today?” His face kept its broad smile as he waited for an answer.
"Wow, you're rather proper, aren't ya?" Jean grinned and chuckled with a shake of his head. Putting his hands in his pockets, he let his camera bump against his chest while he walked around the crystal. It seemed to glow, the image of the concierge fully visible from all angles, as he suspected.
Before Jean could say any more, the concierge smiled apologetically and stood stiff as a board. His voice was still pleasant and absent of life. “I’m sorry. I do not understand the question. Could you please repeat that again?” It was nothing more than a recording programmed to answer to particular keywords. Jean had seen it all before. They’d answer questions you weren’t asking and make assumptions based on what their voice recognition picked up. They were entertaining to play with.
Jean snickered to his chest and sighed. He grabbed his camera with both hands and brought it to his eyes. Through the viewfinder, he could admit that the concierge’s face was attractive. A dabbling of dots, possibly freckles, covered his nose, which itself ended up with a cute bump. “You look fancy,” Jean thought aloud as he altered his camera settings and moved the manual focus ring to the right position.
Marco’s voice answered him and disrupted his shot with the movement in his face, as little as it was. “All that work at The Oasis are dressed to our impeccable high standards so we may ensure the highest standards of your stay when you stay with us.” He reached up to straighten his already straight lapel, demonstrating the uniform he wore with poise. Jean almost scoffed at how scripted it looked and no doubt was.
“Wow, that’s a practised answer.” Jean held himself still and pressed the shutter button to take the shot of Marco’s peaceful expression. He’d reverted back to that same stiff pose, blinking slowly as the hologram looped. Jean wondered who this man must of been when he worked here. He was probably safe elsewhere, having gotten out of the city with the evacuation, and left his recorded hologram copy here to direct people out of the building.
True to his job, the concierge remained rigid and professional. “Would you like more history of our fabulous establishment?” The question seemed to be a preprogrammed one, designed to fish for any more questions and direct patrons towards one of the many facilities this shell of a hotel once had.
“No, thanks,” Jean answered, huffing a laugh out of his nose. He could come back at any time after all as he had planned several days of exploration through the middle of Jinae. As the only preserved building in the area, this would do well as his centre of operations. Even if his operations were mostly sitting and setting up his camera.
With everything ready to go, Jean saluted the hologram called Marco and wandered off towards the exit. He could get used to coming back here and messing with someone’s idea of programming. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched at the hologram powered down and shut off. The lights flickered off completely by the time he left the hotel.
***
Days later Jean returned to take shelter from the heat. The weather of Jinae was warm and pleasant, but needlessly hot as far as Jean was concerned. The damp feeling in the air that clung to the walls of The Oasis made it a pleasant respite from the air that seemed to burn outside.
Barely a foot from the communicator crystal, it spurred into life. Dots of light glowed where the laser hit them and within moments, Marco Bodt, the freckled concierge, was in position with a smile. “Greetings traveller.” He waited for a few seconds before continuing, “My name is Marco Bodt. How may I assist you today?” That same expression of quiet patience and servitude looked positively adorable on the man’s face. Jean was almost insulted by it.
He’d been taking more and more photos since he arrived. The storage cards he’d brought were almost completely full. He could have sent them via satellite to his cloud storage instead, but Jean didn’t trust what he couldn’t touch and hold in his own two hands. The old school ways felt best, even if it meant taking all of his photos meant having several of the cards on hand.
His eyes looked up to Marco’s, squinting for a moment just in case the hologram moved more than its programmed sway. “Why am I here?” Jean asked with a playful tint to his voice. He always wondered how much forethought programmers put into their creations, especially ones with access to holographic recorders that would have created this piece of technology.
The hologram seemed to blink for a second. A blink that said the concierge didn’t quite understand what Jean had meant by that. It seemed a bit odd, but Jean shrugged it off as nothing when Marco replied, “Sorry, sir, may I have some clarification of the intent of whether your question was philosophical or literal, so I may appropriately answer your question?”
Jean took his own turn to blink, shuffling his camera to his hip so he could cross his arms across his chest. “You can’t be serious.” The programmers had seen to putting in a fairly reasonable response to a question Jean thought would stump the cute hologram boy. He’d have to try harder.
“I am indeed very serious, as all The Oasis employees are,” Marco explained, apparently picking up on the word ‘serious’ as well. Jean’s jaw nearly dropped with disbelief. This might be a lot harder than he thought. The concierge paused, readjusted himself, and seemed to reset back to his original position. “What information may I provide you today?” The hopeful look in his eyes still seemed blank and distant.
Sighing, Jean stared for a moment, wondering whether holograms would ever be capable of actually responding to people like human beings than visual answering machines. He could use a screen and get the same result. Though, he had to admit that having an attractive man talking to him made up for it. He could see the appeal.
Worrying his lip, he considered his next response and remembered where he had started in the first place. “You just forgot the question I asked you.” He couldn’t blame the program from not being able to remember a previous question. They worked on a question by question basis, occasionally responding to keywords that the owners felt were important. He couldn’t expect it to remember anything of value. “You can tell me where the food is,” he added to put the hologram to some use. He could use something to eat after the long day he’d had.
“The Oasis has one of the finest assortment of culinary delights in its three prestigious restaurants.” Marco’s smile grew with a flicker of uncertainty on his face. From what Jean could tell, the nerves of recording for the hologram had gotten to him. The professional, however, shone through in that peculiarly straight spine he seemed to have.
Jean snorted and rolled his eyes with a sigh. There wasn’t anything left of the hotel anymore. All staff and patrons had left on the day of the evacuation. He couldn’t very well find food in an empty restaurant. “Except they’re all closed and no one works here.”
The concierge did not blink or budge from his posture. Jean had to hand it to him that the man knew what he was doing, even if his arms seemed to fidget. Perhaps hologram scanning cubicles were as uncomfortable as he had heard they were. Marco’s voice didn’t seem to waver at all. “The Oasis employs over 100 individuals and prides itself on the diversity and excellence of its staff.” Jean could have sworn he saw a tiny surge of pride in the hologram itself.
None of that information was any use to him. Pre-programmed holograms always worked like this. They found one word out of the several you’d say in their earshot and they’d respond to the first thing they thought was important, whether or not the information was applicable. “Where can I find food? Real food. Where’s all the food in storage?” Jean decided to be more direct with his question, feeling the grumble in his stomach asking its own questions in gurgles and whines. If all else failed, he could probably find a broken vending machine to loot, but if he could avoid it, he would.
“You may dine at any of the three prestigious restaurants you can find using the in-built map of The Oasis room keys,” Marco informed Jean with a slight nod of his head. Every part of him seemed to be blissfully unaware of the cracks at his feet, the dusty breeze blowing by, or the way that vines creeped up the communicator crystal’s base. “Access to all hotel storage facilities is strictly prohibited to personnel only. If there was something in particular you were searching for, I may be able to assist you in finding it.” Apparently the concierge was just as capable of picking up on the word storage before informing Jean of even more useless information.
“Look, I just-- Nevermind,” Jean started and decided against trying anymore. It was amusing for the most part that something designed to be helpful and polite seemed to scrape against his resolve more than it intended. He couldn’t deny, however, that the blank, pleasant and endearingly patient smile he kept receiving didn’t somehow soften him as well. Between the photographs and the walking, Marco felt like a warm welcome to come back to, and he’d barely seen him more than once.
As he began to leave, he had to wonder why the hologram seemed to respond to his presence, whether the in-build programming was more recording or more AI. He suspected that he might never know and threw a glance over his shoulder to take in its features again. Seeming to notice Jean’s attention, it smiled, just for a moment. The dots of holographic light changed his expression for a fraction of a second and caught Jean off guard. It disappeared again as quickly as it had appeared.
Perhaps Jean was seeing things, but that movement had to be a glitch. Holograms only responded to stimuli. They weren’t capable of picking up on body language or physical cues, let alone capable of their own beyond their programmed choreography. It left him feeling odd and even more curious that they’d left the hologram on all this time. He set off again with his teeth worrying his lip, noting that the hologram light faded when he left the building.
***
After a long hot day of exploration and having found nothing but rocks to keep him company, he returned once more to The Oasis. By now he started to feel like he knew the hotel more than anywhere else in the city. It was cooler here, where the ferns seemed to wave at his presence and the breeze whispered him memories of the people who once worked and stayed here. There was something old and melancholy about somewhere where people once were, and Jean lived to document it all, if only satiate that curious need to know that lingered in his chest.
Just like before the hologram spurred into life at his presence. He smiled at the same greeting Marco always gave him and the amusing tone traveller seemed to have when Jean kept coming back to the one place he felt comfortable. Travellers were meant to go far and wide. He had so travelled so many times over the years that home became a word that travelled with him too. For now, this was the closest that he had, a place that he came back to. Home.
“You could call me, Jean, you know,” he quipped and scattered the rubble on the floor with his shoe. He cleared the ground beneath him before sitting on the marble and resting his camera on his lap. “Not that you’d be able to because they haven’t programmed you to be able to do that.” Stretching in his position, he gazed up at the ceiling, hands reaching up towards the faint beams of light coming through the cracks.
“How may I assist you today?” asked Marco with the usual smile. He didn’t introduce himself this time, prompting Jean to peer up from his position on the ground with a quirked eyebrow. He paused with his usual smile and usual pose. Nothing else was different. Jean had to watch for a second or two more, just to be sure, admiring in passing how attractive the man was. It was no wonder they had made him the face of the hotel.
Jean turned his attention down to the camera in his lap. It had been having issues the last hour or so, lens unable to focus properly and making all manners of noises as it struggled. It likely needed a good clean with all the dust flying around in the air. “You can keep me company, I guess…” he answered with a soft smile and pulled the soft lens cloth out of his camera bag. It was a blessing the cloth itself hadn’t gotten dusty where his jacket hadn’t fair so well.
He settled his camera bag on his lap, nestling it between his legs. “You’d think I’d have a camera more prepared for my line of work.” The lens on his camera came off with a click. It felt heavy in his hand. Checking both ends, it seemed to have survived without a scratch. “I travel, you see. Planet to planet. Usually on the outskirts where people journey for holidays… where the natural disasters seem to cluster.” He frowned while he placed one cap on the lens, quickly inspecting the camera body before clipping another cap where the lens had been.
“This little guy has seen me through most of it. I’m impressed he’s lasted as long as he has.” Jean chuckled and started to brush his cloth over the lens. “It’s been years now. I should probably upgrade like the boss wants, but I like this guy.” With a fond smile, he brushed over the lens in delicate circles and gave a glance up to Marco. The concierge seemed to snap into a straight posture, arms moving to his side, chin tilting up just so, as if he’d become aware that Jean was looking at him. It was all rather odd. Jean shook it out of his mind and continued working on his camera.
The lens cover snapped into position on the lens easily. Jean had always found it a satisfying feeling to have everything slot together. “Places like this… have so much history.” He checked over the lens, searching for any marks or scratches. He couldn’t find anything that stood out. There wasn’t much else he could do for the odd screeching noise beyond cleaning it. He grabbed another cloth from his pocket and wiped over every surface of his gear.
“You can find the traces of people in places like this. Things they left behind, things they didn’t think were important. There’s little parts of them everywhere, if you look.” Jean tucked his camera in its bag, body first and then lens. He felt watched sitting here with the communicator crystal rising up from the ground before him. It felt strange but comforting to have something with the semblance of humanity so close. It’s all he could grab onto in desolate places like this. He had to admit it was the first time he’d had any kind of company on his journeys. It wasn’t the best but he had to make do with what he had.
Jean squinted up at Marco and swore for a second he caught Marco’s eye contact. “You’re hardly talkative today, are you?” The eyes didn’t shift from his, seeming to follow him. They continued to follow him as he looped the camera bag strap over his neck and got to his feet. His heart pounded in his chest and wondered how many times holograms stopped talking, how often they wouldn’t pick up on anything you said, and say nothing in response. Every interaction he had had with Marco so far had meant a slew of information because of one word and Jean had said so many by now.
He gulped at the fact that Marco seemed to smile without moving his face at all. The glow around him, that same hologram glow Jean had seen for days, seemed to highlight the details of his uniform from the gold of his buttons to the rich black fabric. His face itself glowed with a sense of life Jean suspected holograms weren’t meant to have. Yet he’d not said a single word. “Have you malfunctioned?” Jean asked, pulling an exaggerated confused expression to hide the genuine concern beneath it. “I thought you were supposed to answer my every whim, tell me all the fabulous things about this place… Why aren’t you answering me?”
Genuinely perplexed Jean squinted and crossed his arms, reviewing the hologram and genuinely wondering if he’d said something to break it. He jolted when the concierge nodded his head curtly and answered, “I’m sorry. I do not understand your question. Could you please repeat that again?” Jean opened his mouth despite his own speechlessness, but Marco beat him to it. His body repositioned itself, clasping his hands together as he thought he might lose his hands. “Greetings traveller. My name is Marco Bodt. How may I assist you?” It seemed the whole program had malfunctioned and started over again, except this time he had said his name once more.
Jean swore he couldn’t breath for a second, caught off guard by a machine that seemed all too real. The hologram flickered for a moment under his gaze. It was probably just another glitch, another issue they hadn’t worked out in the programming. Jean pressed his lips together and decided that he could ponder over it in the ruins of the great city of Jinae. He left with a short wave, a timid smile, and the continuing unsettling feeling that eyes were watching his back.
***
The next day came and went with a large dust storm ripping through the city. It screamed and sung and whistled through the cracks left behind by the remnants of buildings and lives people left behind. Covered in dust and desert, Jean pushed his way through the worst of it, head bowed and feet struggling to gain traction. He made his way to The Oasis, perhaps the only sanctuary he had found in the surprisingly sparse landscape he’d come to photograph.
He ducked in through the front doors with a grunt, grateful to find refuge from the constant battering of sand. The sound died off when his feet hit the marble floors, rocks skittering across them with series of taps, rolling until their momentum stopped. Traces of sand had already made its way into the hotel from what he could see. It made no difference to the hologram that powered up on his approach.
“Afternoon, Marco. I see you’re doing fine. How’s the weather?” Jean kicked up the dust and the sand at his feet, impressed by how far into the building it had gotten. Though he suspected a program, a hologram no less, had no idea what the weather was like or what weather actually was beyond informing patrons of what occurred outside these walls. He pondered aloud the question that bumped around in his brain, “What’s it like being a computer?”
Marco didn’t seem to pick up on Jean’s sense of humour. He stood as rigid as Jean had ever seen him. He answered with a blunt, “I’m sorry. I do not understand.” There was no greeting, no reminder of who he was, and no question of how he may assist Jean, nor did it ask for him to repeat the question. It was incredibly unusual for a hologram to go off script, even one that had made it through a catastrophic event like a meteor storm.
Jean blinked for a few moments in his confusion. “What do you mean you don’t understand?” Those brown eyes caught his and seemed to bore into him, begging him to understand something. There was a slight twitch underneath one eye, a pinky on his left hand twitched, and his lips tugged into a smile. “Normally you answer me when I talk… Marco?” He moved closer to the hologram, standing directly before it, and once again realised how pretty the hologram looked in this light. They’d certainly chosen a good-looking man for front of house.
A desperate, strange kind of thought occurred to Jean then. It was entirely absurd and he couldn’t even begin to understand what it would mean, but he edged closer to the communicator crystal and whispered it aloud, “Are you real? A real person?” That was probably the most ridiculous thing that had ever come out of his mind. “No, no, that can’t be right, can it?” Jean’s eyebrow drew together and rose and drew together again with every confused thought in his brain. Maybe the sand storm and isolation was getting to him.
Marco’s eyes seemed to shine then. Something in them showed a sign of life. Jean would have sworn to it if the feeling of doubt hadn’t surged up in his chest. It faltered, wobbly and even more uncertain, when Marco answered, “I’m sorry. I do not understand.” The sentence had been cut short again and Jean doubted that was part of the hologram’s original programming. Something seemed off.
“You’re answering me though. You can hear me,” he pointed out, hoping to prompt some kind of answer. Whatever was different about this programming sent a shiver up his spine. No matter which angle he looked from there was nothing out of the ordinary in the make of the hologram. The performance of it, however, differed from every other kind he had seen. While he doubted it was intentional, he hoped deep down that he wasn’t seeing a trapped consciousness, hidden in the depths of the hotel’s computer system.
He’d heard of such nightmares over the years. They were the kinds of stories hidden in children’s tales, warning of playing games with technology you didn’t understand. The worlds had become so vast and so expansive that technology itself thrived as people struggled to live on the outer planets. It moved faster than education and safety measures could account for. There was no telling how companies used their files with no regulations to overview them.
Marco nodded slowly, every other part of him stiff and seemingly bound to the hologram’s recording. “I’m sorry… I do not understand…” The concierge’s voice was slow, patient, trying out syllables with a tone that seemed to crack. Hints of electronic noise filtered through with it as it changed from the usual happy, pleasant tone of a customer service representative to something simultaneously real and synthetic.
The dread that grew into Jean’s stomach then seemed as persistent as the vines growing through the cracks in the floor. A subsequent shudder ran up his spine. The hologram, Marco Bodt, seemed to be answering him. “Right… You can only respond when I ask you questions, right?” Perhaps he needed to work out a way to communicate. Perhaps Jean just hadn’t been listening all of this time. He wondered how many times he had simply brushed off a look or an odd sentence or a cry for help. Jean bit his lip at the regret that fell over him when he considered how blind he must have been.
The chipper tone turned to Marco’s voice, seeming to play out a prerecorded message. “Unfortunately, due to unseen circumstances, that facility of The Oasis is currently restricted.” Jean hadn’t asked about any of the facilities in the hotel and the confusion of this answer played evidently over his face. His lips parted when the realisation hit him. That was his answer. That was all Marco could answer.
“Are you trapped?” Jean immediately regretted his question the second after it tumbled out of his mouth. He’d gone completely mad by this point. Jinae had gotten to him with all of its blatant sunshine and shiny buildings. The sandstorm had properly knocked him out or filled his brain with sand. He couldn’t seriously be believing -- and maybe even a little bit hoping -- that there was a man called Marco Bodt trapped as or in a hologram.
Marco’s visage smiled like Jean had shared good news. It was a haunting contrast to the reality of the situation, if Jean was in fact right. The beaming man before him nodded his head and appeared proud despite the glossy appearance his eyes seemed to take. “You are indeed correct.” The tone of his voice was congratulatory, but his face softened into something more solemn once the words were said. Jean had to stop himself from clutching his chest to hold his heart together.
Seconds later, Marco’s form stiffened with back straight and chin held high. His eyes lost their glossy sheen and grew warm and welcoming again. His muscles, his arms, every part of him, followed the same motions he always had when Jean had approached him. “Greetings traveller. My name is Marco Bodt. How may I assist you today?” This time the eyes blinked as if malfunctioning and a hint of a frown touched his face.
That was all there was to it. There had to be something to this as far as Jean was concerned. It seemed extremely unlikely that there was someone trapped in that crystal and yet it was just as unlikely that a program would be able to answer him in that manner and have every part of it make sense. He wasn’t able to get much out of Marco in his current state. The next best option he had was to search the hotel and find their working hologram system. He hoped and prayed they held some answers. As a photographer, he was completely out of his depth.
The marble floors of the hotel led in several different directions. From the echoing depths of the ballroom on the first floor to the winding steps to the mezzanine with its series of elevators and broken vending machine, it turned him every which way until he found a side door in the rear of the ground floor. The door creaked open with a percussive cry and sent a swirl of dust straight into Jean’s eyes.
He coughed loudly and cringed at the echo that returned to his ears. His footsteps inside were just as loud, hitting the polished concrete floor with slaps of the soles of his boots. It was only when he opened his eyes did he understand the reason for the echo. Standing along the walls, shining in the cold LED lights in the ceiling, were tall cylindrical cubicles that appeared to be made of polished copper. They looked somewhere between a ribcage and a pipe, jutted edges running up inside and outside the strange contraptions.
Series of wires ran up to the ceiling and formed a net, leading to a computer by the door, barely a metre away from Jean’s feet. It was an entire network of metal cocoons that shone despite the layer of dust that had clung to them. This room hadn’t been opened in a very long time and while his knowledge was limited, he was entirely sure these were the hologram scanners he’d intended to find.
Hologram scanning was one of the more peculiar methods of hologram production that Jean knew of. He hadn’t exactly specialised in it, but photographers in some planetary programs were known to dabble with the obscure photography method. The lasers necessary however were difficult to come by, though not as difficult as the hundreds of metres of fibre needed to operate them. He was unsure of the details, but he knew in his limited knowledge that this setup was out of the ordinary.
Jean ran back to the front desk and back to Marco. His hand pressed against the crystal, hoping the small gesture would mean something. The surface vibrated against him, a touch tingling on his fingers like a classroom science experiment he couldn’t remember the name of. Marco’s eyes met his and waited for Jean to question him.
“Do you know if it is possible to scan someone into the system?” he asked between ragged breaths. He wasn’t sure why he felt the sense of urgency coursing through him. He hadn’t particularly cared about anything like this in a long time. He hadn’t cared for anyone else’s company in a long time. Yet he was appreciating and wanting to maintain the company of a man that might be more machine, more fabricated, than real.
Marco's face took on a serious expression, somewhere between worry and concern and something else that Jean wouldn't place. “Scanning is indeed a feature of The Oasis hotel. Our establishment benefits from having the top of the range scanning equipment so we can provide health benefits to all staff through the regular maintenance of their personnel records, down to a cellular level." He clasped his hands together as if presenting to a class, under the spell of the scripted message. It seemed to be a more common question than Jean had anticipated. "As an added benefit to our patrons, our communicator crystal regularly rotates our concierge so a new face may greet you at every return visit."
That seemed to make a lot of sense in Jean's mind. Part of Marco would have already been scanned into their system if the information he just heard was correct. If Marco had been the one at the front desk on the day of the meteor storm, that would have changed circumstances, surely. “What happens in the state of an emergency?”
Jean bit his lip as Marco began to answer with a serious tone. It retained the same politeness it always did when he spoke factual information, yet hidden within it Jean could hear a low hum that told of something else altogether. “Should a state of emergency occur, a standard evacuation procedure will be implemented. Our friendly staff will assist if the need arises." The calm expression on Marco's face, the near cheerful way he delivered those lines, made Jean feel sick to his stomach.
“What if people can’t leave the hotel?” Jean blurted out as more statement than question. He couldn't understand what had gotten him so worried and so worked up over this man. He knew so very little about him and here he was caring to a degree that he didn't even reserve for his camera. Everything in him told him to stick with this. He had to believe in something, for once.
Marco's hands started to gesture, circling in the air to help with his explanation. It was a cute touch to an otherwise daunting topic of conversation. It didn't help to lighten the gravity of Marco's words. “Emergency scanning pods may preserve staff and patrons alike should this situation arises. However, we assure you that such desperate measures are only applicable in the most dire of circumstances, and all our staff have been trained in all emergency procedures to assist you in these times.” An apologetic smile twitched on his face, though he had nothing to apologise for.
Gritting his teeth, Jean had to wonder what the chances were of actually saving people with that method. “What is the likelihood of recovery from those systems?” The technology was still relatively new. It was likely that Marco knew this as well, but took the risk anyway under the threat of meteor storm. He couldn't imagine how scared and desperate Marco must have been to expose himself to such uncertain odds.
“We assure you that in the case of emergency, if you are preserved in our system, that your corporeal integrity shall be maintained as per intergalactic workplace health and safety standards." Marco's eyes seemed to glaze over. Whatever part of him that was there faded behind the words he had to deliver. "However, we must advise that all scanning and subsequent uploads are subject to the delicate nature of data storage. We maintain no guarantee of data integrity and subsequent recovery.”
Feeling the crushing weight of impending defeat, Jean sighed. If he had any chance of getting Marco out of there, saving him, there was just as much chance that he might very well destroy what was left of him. With such a difficult decision ahead, he settled on giving himself a day and sleeping on it. It was not something he was going to take lightly.
The afternoon coming to an end and the darkness approaching, Jean figured there was no better place to stay the night. He felt compelled to stay after the new information he had learned, especially considering he'd been the one to draw it out of Marco. It wouldn't take much to set up a temporary camp. That was if he could find everything he needed.
Excusing himself, Jean set off in search of firewood in amongst the debris. He gathered a collection of broken table legs and shattered chairs from around the hotel lobby into a pile before Marco's feet. The pile wasn't much, but to see him through the cold nights, it would do. It was no different than sleeping in any of the other places he had found in Jinae. He had to make do with what he could find.
"Might as well settle down here for the night, yeah?" Jean sighed and dropped to the floor, placing himself between the pile of firewood and his camera bag. "I try to come prepared for anything. You never know when you might need to set on fire." Chuckling, he took a butane lighter from his pocket, wiggled it in the air for Marco's benefit, and leaned forward to set alight the furniture kindling at the base of the pile.
The marble floor wasn’t the best of beds, but it was better than the piles of rocks he had used as bedding on previous explorations. "I don't imagine I'll sleep well here, Marco." He sat back down onto the cold floor, stretched every muscle, and lay down on the ground to stare up at the ceiling, and Marco. "Think you could help me get to sleep?" He turned his head towards Marco. "What can you tell me about the city of Jinae?"
Marco actually paused to smile then. It was no more than a fraction of a second, maybe a few more. Jean's heart pounded in his chest, a warm starting to blossom across his face. He closed his eyes with a sigh and let himself rest as Marco began. He told of stories of shining lights that took to the sky in the middle of the desert, stories of the great salt lakes beyond the bluegrass hills, and stories of the migration of the whistling clockwork birds that signalled the change of seasons.
Marco's stories faded into in the darkness that wrapped around Jean as he fell asleep. The calming sound of his voice lulled him to somewhere peaceful. It was pleasant knowing that he wasn't alone. The cold of the floor and the looming, continuing sand storm outside held nothing over the sweetness held in that pleasant tone.
***
The morning came with the calm of the storm and Jean startled awake on the marble floor. Marco still stood there like a diligent guardian angel, watching down over him with a hint of a smile. Eyes still dreary with sleep, Jean couldn't think of a better image to wake up to, nor could he imagine what it would be like to leave here without knowing this man was safe.
"Greetings traveller. My name is Marco Bodt. How may I assist you?" Marco repeated like he always did. Jean could hear the smile in it before he could make it out for sure, his eyes still too blurry from sleep. All he knew was that he had to do all he could to see that smile for real. He couldn't imagine how painful it must be for him trapped in there, alone for so long, unable to say anything beyond his limited programming.
The thoughts woke him out of the remaining stupor hanging over him. Determined to save Marco and bring him back, Jean sat up and excused himself, heading directly to the scanner room. He spent the majority of the morning searching through the room. He found series of detailed documents hidden in filing cabinets, a particularly shiny scanner that appeared to be the most recently used, and a humming generator in the back.
With the rough idea from Marco and hoping for the best, Jean set about trying to reverse the scanning process. He had no idea what he was doing. The sense of dread had already settled into his nerves and tingled as he searched through each of the scanners for some indication of what he needed to do. He focused his attention in particular to the most recently used one, shutting the doors to all the others, and securing the curved doors of the cubicle open.
The computer by the door spurred to life at a click of a switch by the monitor. It ran in languages and symbols that made no sense to Jean. An overwhelming series of strange unfamiliar things scrolled past and all Jean could do was click the glowing red button on the screen and hope for the best.
Behind him the cubicle started to whirr. The doors shut with a loud clang followed by a swish of a sound Jean had never heard before. The light in the cubicle glowed, filling the room with a strange light. The worst Jean could have done was try to scan nothing into the system. It couldn't be any worse than that. Jean had to tell himself that, had to believe in that.
Hours after waking him, stomach growling in complaint, Jean returned outside to the communicator crystal. The glow and familiar figure he expected to see when he returned was gone. Nothing filled the clear crystal by the front desk. Its lights had been completely shut off while Jean had been off trying to fix everything. It seemed that he'd gone and made it worse.
Running up to the crystal, rocks on the floor flew out as he made his way through at speed. His hand hit the glass with a slap, desperately hoping his contact would bring Marco back to him, but nothing happened. "Marco?" he called out and hit his fist against the crystal. "Marco!" No answer followed. Marco was gone.
The immediate sense of regret nearly brought Jean to his knees. Everything he had done had made everything worse. He’d completely ruined everything and likely wiped Marco from the system because he pressed a button and touched a system he didn’t understand. It was the most selfish and irresponsible thing he had ever done.
Gulping down the sick feeling in his stomach, he ran to the scanning room. He could fix this. He hadn't completely ruined everything. It couldn't be that. He couldn't let himself believe that. The sounds of machines were still whirring. He still had a chance. His feet came to a sudden stop when he saw the light glowing in the cubicle and his mouth ran dry, nervous hope playing with his heartbeat.
He edged forward, waiting for the sound of the whirring and the screech of the machine to slow down. It built up and up, growing higher in pitch, sending a shake through the room. The LED lights of the room itself began to flicker and for a heart pounding minute Jean thought the lights might go off, the machine might explode, or he might get electrocuted by the whole system dying. He was standing far too close and not close enough all at once.
Sooner than Jean could blink away his surprise, the machine came to a sudden halt. Steam rose from the cubicle and the doors swung open. A black figure slumped forward, limbs reaching out for nothing. Jean rushed forward, sliding awkwardly across the floor, and threw out his arms. The weight of the figure slumped into him, arms hanging over his, its face pressed against his shoulder. It couldn't be anyone other than Marco.
The collapsed figure mumbled something below Jean's range of hearing. The person he assumed to be Marco struggled to get onto its feet, both in fine leather boots as befitting the matching black uniform with tan trim. There was no hope of this stranger being able to stand on their own. Jean pushed them up with his hands to get a better look at their face.
Though covered in a series of small strange rectangular scratches from ear to chin and down his body, there was no mistaking that this indeed was Marco. His eyes were just as brown, his freckles just as cute, and Jean was sure that if he spoke he'd sound like an angel. The struggle to hold him up was nothing compared to the sheer joy that he had done something good, something right, and Marco was in his arms, literally.
Marco smiled at him with a sense of gratitude Jean hadn't ever seen in his life. It was almost overwhelming, bringing a sense of joy and his own relief that everything had gone as he had hoped. Minutes passed in this most awkward of positions. Jean couldn't bare to let him go or look away for even a second.
Marco's lips parted and Jean waited with a sense of anticipation he didn't know existed. "Greetings traveller," the sweet voice he had expected called up to him. The same greeting he had heard so many times before just about melted Jean then and there. Almost losing his grip, he let them both slide down to the ground in a series of giggles and huffed relieved laughter.
"I think you can call me by my actual name now," Jean teased and pressed his lips together, trying to hide the smiles that kept coming. It seemed so silly, crumpled on the floor together like this as a mixture of limbs, yet the surge of emotion running through him made his eyes sting with tears. He was proud and content and grateful and relieved and so painfully happy for a reason he couldn't quite put a finger on. He couldn't imagine what Marco must be feeling.
Finding his hands gripping to Marco's hands, he loosened his grip and started to pull away. Marco's hand quickly caught him and pulled him back, settling them on his shoulders when he pulled one of the most shy guilty glances Jean might have ever seen. Without needing to say more, Jean understood. He got what it was like to be surrounded by loneliness and perhaps that's why he had found himself drawn to the lone figure of humanity in a place falling into ruin.
Though they hadn't said much, they didn't need to say anything at all. Marco wasn't capable of speaking to begin with, his voice raspy and dry, wheezing out whenever he tried to say something to Jean that he felt was important. Jean instead shushed him into silence with a raised finger and a patient nod. They had more in common than Jean had ever realised and a few more hours of silence, enjoying the closeness, the comfort of it all, was more than enough.
Nervously Jean pulled Marco closer, encircling his arms around him, tugging him towards him until their chests met. Jean rested his chin against Marco's shoulder, breathing him in. He smelled of burnt metal and smoke, but Jean didn't care. He sighed and held him, tight, comfortable, not sure if he ever wanted to let go or ever would.
They sat there for a long while in each other's arms. Time didn't seem as important anymore. Marco had been stuck in that system, alone, unable to cry out for help, hiding from a disaster that destroyed everything around him. "I've got you," Jean whispered in his ear in reassurance and felt Marco's arms around him hug tighter. The sound of sobbing followed, relieved, grateful sobbing that dampened Jean's shoulder. Soon he felt tears well in his eyes at the sound.
"It's all going to be okay. You're here. I've got you." Choking up himself, he rubbed his hand over Marco's back, still in disbelief that this was real, that Marco was real. All Jean knew was that he wanted to stay here, like this, for as long as Marco let him. Judging by the hold around his ribs, Marco was just happy to feel and be held. He was going to need Jean for the long trip to wherever home may be and maybe, if Marco would have him, for a long time after that.