The Company [Ongoing]

Ch.1 - James Bailey

 The alarm blared and James sat up, smacking his head on the low ceiling. As usual. He grunted and turned off the alarm on the panel in the wall. He didn't mind the pain in his forehead. Not today. It might be one of the last times he had to sleep in The Coffin. A smile threatened to ruin his sombre expression. The Coffin; the small cubicle beds for people like him. The unemployed, the poor. He crawled out of the small space, pulling his clothes out with him. Standing on the cold concrete floor, he quickly dressed, closed the cubicle and shuffled off to the bathrooms to make himself ready and as presentable as possible.

Moments later he took the mono-rail downtown. His stomach tingled. Today was the day he would start his new job. Probably. And finally get money enough to rent an apartment. Or even get off Gordion. Eventually. That shit cost so much it was ridiculous. At least his job would take him out of orbit, to the nearby moons. He glanced out of the window, but the skies were dark with stormy clouds, as always. What a shithole. Always overcast, windy, and wet. At least the tall buildings in the city slowed the winds somewhat.

He sat in the crowded car, staring at nothing just like everyone else. He didn't get off until the mono-rail reached the very last station. By then, the car was empty but for an old woman who shuffled off in another direction as soon as they got off. He steered towards the edge of Platform 12, the "land" they all lived on, along a smooth but narrow road, lined on one side by a metal rail, interrupted by lamp posts every now and then. Glancing back, he caught the old woman looking back at him.
Odd. Did he look funny? Self consciously, he brushed off imaginary dirt from his jacket. Well, maybe not that imaginary. He snorted. Hopefully The Company didn't mind too much. They knew he'd been unemployed for quite long anyway. Surely they didn't expect perfection? Nervously, he continued the last bit of the road, the smell of seaweed and salt permeating the air, stronger here so near the edge. They'd told him on the phone that being on time was utterly important. They valued punctuality. The voice had sounded strange. Maybe an AI? He shook it off and hurried his steps.

James looked up at the closed gates. Tall concrete walls, with one large grilled gate. Unwelcoming. Behind the walls a huge building rose. Ominous, dark concrete walls. Windowless. He looked around for a way to open the gate. A large yellow button sat on a panel by the gate. He hesitated only a moment before pressing it.

'Welcome to The Company," a slightly warbled voice said. "State your name and entrance code."

'Huh?' James said.

'Entrance denied."

Well, I'll be damned.

James pulled up the paper he'd written down notes on during the call the other day. Entrance code? Oh, maybe his employee number?

He cleared his throat. 'James Bailey, five-thousand eight-hundred forty-four.' He said it slow and clear, to make sure the obvious AI got it correct.

'Welcome to The Company. Please, enter.' A loud clank preceded the opening of the gate.

'Well, that was easy, I suppose,' James muttered. He stepped in and took a closer look at the large building. He couldn't find any windows or doors. Just large, flat, grey walls, wet with sea spray, accompanied by the unending rush of waves off to the left. A yellow rail signalled the end of the platform. Some containers stood in rows a short way off, and seeing nothing else of interest, he decided to go there. As he neared, he spotted a dark square in the large building. Like an empty shop window without glass.

Curious.

He walked almost all the way up to it when a voice from behind stopped him.

'James Bailey?'

'Ah!' He spun around, heart in his throat. 'Yes?' He spotted a bearded man in an orange hazmat suit, standing by one of the containers, his visored helmet under an arm, his short brown hair flattened from wearing it. No wait. That was no container, he realized, taking another look. It was a ship. But it was the same size and shape as the containers. No wonder he'd missed it. Excitement tingled in his stomach. A real, if disappointingly small, spaceship!