Xeno yearns to have access to The Nth Dimension like The White Boys, famed telepaths who suffered brain damage when they made contact with extraterrestrial intelligence. Out of work as a bartender since the Shoki Pao dance club mysteriously burned d...
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Xeno woke in the bed of a black Ford F-150 pick up truck with his feet hanging off the edge of the open tailgate. He sat up and looked around the brightly lit showroom. Outside the storefront windows, everything appeared to be underground, made of glacial tunnels, illuminated by diffuse light. He slid off the tailgate and followed the tire tracks across the linoleum, passing through an open garage entry, leading out to the curb. The cavernous avenue was lined with deserted prefab offices, no sign of life, no doors shutting, no chairs creaking, no papers shuffling, just the hiss of plumbing from sinewy pipes running overhead along the icy ceiling. The roads were freshly paved, unraveling into snowy vanishing points, with no engine hum in the distance, no headlights appearing. The showroom had no company name affixed to the entrance, just empty drill holes and dirtied discoloring where the signage had been removed.
He projected his Blackmail holopane into the air, checking for recent messages . . . Nothing. He tried to contact Trianne on her black box via text message, video conference . . . No response. He tried to pin point his location with the black box GPS app:
CANNOT LOCATE SATTELITE
He walked past the showroom entrance, to the cavern wall, and ran his fingers along the surface. It wasn't ice, but rock of some sort, the climate feeling like a humid spring day in the upper seventies.
He went back into the showroom and explored the pick up truck. The exterior was pristine, freshly waxed to a gloss finish, the tang of auto detailing products in the air. He swung open the driver door and looked over the interior of the cab. There were no keys in the ignition, no driver identification in the glove box, just a shallow stack of familiar pamphlets on the passenger seat:
INTELLEGELLA JOB FAIR
CAN YOU PASS THE ZENER TEST?
FREE PUNCH!
He crossed to the reception desk, tripping a sensor that activated an infomercial on a wall-mounted telepane behind the counter:
WELCOME TO LIME LIGHT
"Welcome to the Lime Light Underground Business Park," the narrator spoke with a cowboy's winsome southern drawl, over various angles of the cavernous region. "Once a limestone mining operation, one hundred and sixty feet beneath the surface, this facility was created using the room and pillar mining method, in which mined material is extracted across a horizontal space, leaving behind a horizontal array of limestone rooms and pillars. Tenants enjoy low lease rates. Low utility costs. Twenty four hour climate control. Spaces are filling up fast, so come by and apply today!"
Another info-mercial followed:
THE MALBORG BYTE
"The industrial black box has arrived," the narrator spoke with the composed British accent of a female spy, "for all your secret service needs . . . Smoother . . . Slicker . . . Sleeker . . . Blacker!" The industrial black box slowly rotated on the telepane, floating in animated deep space, amidst a backdrop of twinkling stars. "Play your favorite 5-tracks, while you explore and investigate a reality that can only be described as . . . occult . . . to the average consumer. Order yours today and see what you've been missing in The Nth Dimension!"
