This is part of a series. For all “Shadows of the Forge” chapters, go here:
ForgeStone Headquarters
As she approached the gleaming doors, Iona noticed a small, glowing panel beside the call button. She hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. She glanced around, hoping for some kind of instruction or guidance, but found none.
Just then, a whirlwind of color swirled past her - a figure in a shimmering blouse, its sleeves billowing like iridescent butterfly wings. A flash of Mardi Gras beads layered over twin crucifixes laid over a well-worn, fringed denim vest sewn in with patches everywhere. A riot of colors and textures adorned the garment - a psychedelic mushroom peeking out from behind a vintage camera logo, a three-eyed alien making a lewd gesture into a steaming cup of coffee. The figure reached out a slender hand, adorned with rings that shifted and glowed with their own light, and pressed the panel beside the elevator doors.
A disembodied voice rang out, “Identity confirmed. Miguel Esposito, Senior Ethicist. Access Level: Gamma.”
The doors slid open with a soft chime.
A sigh, heavy with frustration, escaped the brightly painted lips of Iona’s new companion. "Zara you stupid autonomic deadnamer, you have to get that updated." the figure muttered with a sharp edge. There was another chime and they let out an exasperated sigh. Then they noticed Iona. Another chime echoed as they turned, and for the first time, Iona got a full view of their face. Despite the makeup and the joyful chaos of their clothing, there was a weariness in their eyes, a tension in the set of their jaw that seemed at odds with the rest of their presentation.
"Coming, newbie?" It was the same voice, but softer now, a flicker of warmth returning as they gestured towards a badge, identical to Iona's, nestled against their temple. A kaleidoscope of colors shifted across its surface, finally settling on an electric blue.
Iona blinked, fumbling in her pocket for her own badge, then hesitated. "Should I... I mean... your pronouns...are they...?" She flushed, remembering her manners.
The figure gave a wry smile, the tension momentarily easing. "Don't worry, that voice gets less creepy with time. Zara, it is Mika. Mika Featherspark," they gave an ironic, flourishing bow to Iona. "Zara still has some kinks to work out with regard to respecting one’s chosen identity. But as for my human friends,” Mika shrugged, eyes twinkling, a playful grin spreading across their face, “Call me whatever makes you feel good! They, she, he - you can surprise me every time.”
The light on Iona’s own badge was a dull gray, mirroring the rain-soaked city outside. Looking in the mirrored wall of the elevator lobby, Iona reached up and pressed the badge against her temple, mimicking the other’s gesture.
The badge was smooth and cold, making her skin prick. She felt a slight tingling sensation as it adhered to her skin, and then the voice announced, "Identity confirmed. Iona Weaver, Apprentice Engineer. Access level: Delta."
The whirlwind beside her chuckled. “Welcome to the ForgeStone experience. Don’t worry, that voice gets less creepy with time.” They winked, the Mardi Gras beads catching the light.
The elevator doors waited expectantly. Iona stepped into the polished steel and glass pod - Mika floated in, full of vibrant chaos, and then the elevator smelled like a vintage apothecary, filling the small space with patchouli and rosewood. As the doors slid closed and the elevator began its ascent, Iona caught a glimpse of her reflection in the polished metal surface. The badge on her temple glowed a soft, pulsing neon green, a constant reminder of her new identity within the ForgeStone hierarchy.
The capsule launched upward, the lobby vanishing and replaced by a view of the city. However, the relentless rain and the thick, low-hanging clouds obscured the view of the city below, creating a disorienting and claustrophobic atmosphere.
Mika turned to face the window. "Zara darling, clarify the view," they called out, voice like wind chimes in a summer breeze.
Suddenly, the rain melted away. The clouds parted, revealing a breathtaking panorama of modern Portland. The city stretched out before her, a thin strip of towering skyscrapers, neon lights, and holographic advertisements surrounded by mid- and low-rise homes, many more than one and a half centuries old, climbing both sides of a hilly, beatific valley. The thin wall of glass and neon seemed to pulse and shimmer in the relentless rain.
"Zara is our building's AI assistant," Mika explained with some clear pride. "One of the many perks, darling. Though I shouldn’t spoil too much of your orientation."
The streets below teemed with sleek, autonomous vehicles and a scattering of older, exhaust-spewing ones. Iona glimpsed the bright blue of the maglev system, and the Willamette River winding its way through it all. Above them luxury cars zipped through the air between massive corporate airships, their glowing underbellies neon fireflies against the undersaturated sky.
As they continued their ascent, Mika pointed out the landmarks. "The view never gets old," Mika mused with genuine affection, "But then again, Portland never lets you get too comfortable. Always something weird on the horizon."
As Iona stepped out of the elevator, she found herself in a long, dimly lit corridor. The walls were lined with sleek, black panels, each one displaying a different set of data or images related to ForgeStone's various projects and departments.
Suddenly, the floor beneath her feet came to life, a series of glowing lines and arrows materializing on the smooth, dark surface. The lines pulsed softly, beckoning her to follow their path.
"What's this?" Iona asked quietly, her voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.
The AI's voice, the woman on the elevator had called it Zara, emanated from hidden speakers in the ceiling, the feminine tone warm and reassuring. "I've detected your access badge, Iona, and I'm guiding you to your orientation session in Conference Room C. Please follow the illuminated path."
Iona nodded, a sense of relief washing over her as she realized that even in this vast, unfamiliar place, there was someone—or something—looking out for her. She began to follow the glowing lines, her footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor.
As she walked, Iona couldn't help but marvel at the way the floor's illumination seemed to anticipate her every move, the lines and arrows shifting and adapting to guide her through the maze-like network of hallways and passages. Occasionally, she passed other employees, their eyes fixed on their own illuminated paths or on the holographic displays that hovered above their wrists.
After a few minutes of navigating the winding corridors, Iona found herself standing in front of a sleek, black door with the placard "Conference Room C." Someone had taped a piece of paper to the door, its handwritten text reading "Apprentice Orientation" in a hasty scrawl. The contrast between the relic of crude human communication and the environment could not be more stark, and Iona stifled a laugh.
The door, a towering slab of polished metal, was slightly ajar. Iona could hear the murmur of voices echoing through the cavernous space within. A knot of anxiety formed in her stomach as she realized that the orientation had likely already begun.
Steeling herself, Iona pushed the door open.
This is part of a series. For all “Shadows of the Forge” chapters, go here: