The Ark

4.

Celeste and I rounded a corner and came to a stop. The Hyperdome had come into view at the end of the street.

"Wow." Celeste's eyes travelled up the precarious building's exterior. "It looks like they've added another level since I last saw it."

"They did." I stepped off the curb and led the way through the bustling outer market that surrounded the giant mall. "Last week."

We picked our way through the rows of stalls. Rich, charcoaled aromas of barbecuing pseudo-meats and vegetables wafted from open grills and giant woks, mingling with the scorching humid air.

The Hyperdome was the largest mall on the Ark. It might have also been one of the oldest. The sprawling base was semi-modern, with newer levels stacked above. Each layer got progressively more contemporary so the latest stores could be found at the very top. It wasn't like the malls in the central territories, they were all modern—knocked down every few years and re-built from scratch to accommodate the latest technologies and entertainment arenas and the newest stores. The Hyperdome held onto some of its history, which made for an interesting mix of retailers.

Holo-projected advertisements scattered and reformed around us as we came through the entrance and the temperature-controlled air fell over us like a cool, thin veil. We had come in at the ground level of the eastern wing. The glossy white tiled floors gleamed neon under the storefronts of the larger shops, most bordering the ground level's perimeter. The central portion of the floor was filled with hundreds of kiosks. We wove around them, heading for the giant glass elevators at the centre of the wing. In the void above, more superstores surrounded each subsequent ring-like level, spanning up forty—forty-one as of last week—storeys.

Celeste and I crammed into an elevator and headed upward. In the void beside us was a giant, multi-dimensional holoprojection of a guy modelled underwear. He must have been about four storeys high and was turning on the spot like he was stuck at the end of a catwalk.

Celeste's eyes were pinned to the projection. "Look at that ass," she said in admiration as we travelled up through second floor—and subsequently past the subject of her statement.

"Remi-who?" I muttered—exhaling sharply when she elbowed me in the ribs.

My gaze swung around the elevator and snagged on a man beside us. His eyes were set on Celeste and me in an indescribably intense way that made my fingertips prickle. He glanced away, brushing some imaginary lint off his grey and white striped shirt. Even with the pretend distraction, the creeped out feeling stuck in my gut.

I grabbed Celeste's hand at the fifth floor and pulled her out of the elevator in a hurry. I watched the man, but he stayed where he was, his eyes the only thing following us as the glass tube zipped upwards and away.

I blew out a breath and strode off around the ring, Celeste jogging at my heels, unaware of the whole exchange with the stranger. A narrow corridor splintered off from the main ring of shops. There were no projections or flashing advertisements down the alcove and it felt dark. Our footsteps echoed around the passage as we passed a dimly lit storefront. An A-frame board by the doorway was the only signage that indicated it was a room for psychic readings. We hurried onward to the only other store in the hall.