"The House" by David Schwager SLADElevel99@yahoo.com From the files of Unreal Estate: Open House, http://pixelscapes.com/unrealestate/openhouse Some portions copyright other authors; see website for details. Its full name is "The House of Infinite Horizons," but nobody calls it that. The people who have heard of it call it "the infinite house" and speak of it in tones varying from disbelief to dismissal, depending on the speaker. But those who have seen it, with one exception, call it "The House," and you can always hear those capital letters. They speak of it in tones of awe and amazement. The one exception is Rictor. He calls it "My House." Of course, you can still hear the capitals. __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| As I looked over the design, I was torn between my desire to laugh and cry. It showed an ugly-looking building made of gray cement and gray steel. Bulky steel pipes, canisters, and unidentifiable machines were everywhere. It looked like something you’d see in a bad action movie, full of conveyor belts and purposeless flames. I had heard it called a smoke and fire factory, although I couldn’t remember where or by who. I looked back at the earnest-looking applicant on the other side of the table. "So, tell me about this... smoke factory?" I said, knowing full well I didn’t want to hear the answer. "Not smoke, steam! Steam!" he replied enthusiastically. "It’s all powered by steam!" "Yes, well, I asked for a portfolio of past projects or a proposed design of an office building, not a proposed design for a..." I trailed off as his words finally penetrated my mind. "Wait, steam powered? You can power something with steam?" "Of course!" he yelled, nodding so hard I thought his head would come off. "Water plus heat equals steam! Steam has pressure, and pressure is powerful!" "Right," I said, and pressed the red security button under my desk. And then pressed it a few more times, just for good measure. I didn’t get a chance to hit it more than five or six times before two large men in black suits walked in. "Well," I said cheerfully, "these two men will escort you out of the building." "What about the job?" he asked as the men grabbed on arm each and lifted him out of his chair. "We’ll call you!" I lied. "You don’t understand! We need steam! The world can be saved by steam!" he screamed as he was pulled out the door. I sighed and leaned back in my chair. It hadn’t seemed like such a tough assignment when I had gotten it... My job title, you see, is Dedicated Facilitator and Coordinator for Krap Foods. What that means, in my language, is that I’m the Girl Who Does Things. For instance, in this case, upper management decides they need a new office building in Nippon, and that it should artistically reflect Krap Food’s unique business philosophy and plan for the future (and that’s the version without the buzzwords and manage-Krap, so no, I have no idea what they’re talking about). However, for this building to actually be built, someone needs to run around and buy some land, find an architect, hire a construction team, etc. etc. That someone is me, and right now I’m stuck on the second part. My RealNet Mobile Messenger rang, interrupting my short self-pity session. I sighed again, straightened up, and answered it. A familiar face lit up the tiny screen. "Hey, how’s your work going?" he asked impishly. "Wonderfully," I said, repressing my mental groan. "Why, I already have" I have..." I tried to say ‘a perfect candidate,’ but the lie just wouldn’t come out. "A burning desire for my help?" he finished. This time my groan escaped me. "Yes, Joel, please!" I admitted. Joel is my guy. You know, my Guy Who Knows Things. A lot of people in my type of work have one. His job is to know both lots of helpful little details and lots experts who knew even more. In short, if you wanted to know about something, he knew some, and he knew experts who knew everything. "I don’t know, Valerie. You seem to have things well in hand. Why, you placed several advertisements looking for an architect with ‘unique vision’ to design a ‘distinctive’ new office building for Krap Foods. You must have gotten the cream of the crop." I didn’t bother to ask him how he knew. Asking Joel how he knew anything would be pretty pointless. "Damn you, you rat bastard!" I moaned. "I’m sorry I didn’t call you from the beginning!" "Valerie, what does it say on my business card?" Joel said as if he was gently reminding a child of something important. "The Guy Who Knows Things," I replied by rote. Actually, in full it says ‘Joel Kaston, Ph.D. in life’s finer details, The Guy Who Knows Things,’ but I said the important part. "Good. So try and call me when you’re starting a new project, okay?" "Okay, okay! So, do you have a list of names for me or not?" "You don’t need a list, you only need one," said Joel smugly. "Rictor Nelson. He’s looking for work, and he’s your man. You’ll love him and you’ll hate him." "Don’t you mean I’ll love him OR I’ll hate him." "Nope." "Wait, what if I don’t like his work?" "Not possible. You have an appointment with him tomorrow at eleven to see The House. He’ll pick you up in a taxi outside the office." I frowned slightly at the mobile messengers screen. There was something weird in the way Joel had said ‘the house,’ as if he had capitalized it in his mind. "What is the house? Is it something he made?" "Yeah, it’s where he lives. It’s kinda his portfolio as well. It’s the greatest piece of art I’ve ever seen." "I don’t know, I’ve never seen architecture as much of an art form. They’re just big rectangles for storing things, right?" Joel looked at me seriously. "Whatever you do, don’t tell Rictor you think that, or he might not accept your offer." "It doesn’t work like that," I said irritably. "I, as a representative of Krap Foods, am offering him the opportunity to design a building for us, not the other way around." "It is absolutely the other way around, but you can tell what you think, and how much you’ll pay me, after you get back. Just remember what it says on my card." And with that, he hung up. I went the next day with the intention of finally proving Joel wrong about something. Instead, I ended up sending him a thank-you card and an extra tip. __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| I was awoken, cranky and annoyed, by the thickening air that came with a reality engine crash. The special effects in the bedroom either froze or were distorted, and through the window I could see the blue sky of death. Beside me, Rictor arose swearing and jumped out of bed to start throwing on some clothes. "This must be the tenth time that damn engine has crashed tonight," he swore. "The modifications I made to the moon shouldn’t have affected it this much." "Ten times? Really? I only counted six," I snapped. He paused, one leg still out of his pants. "You actually counted?" he asked. I shrugged. "I couldn’t help it, it woke me up ever time. Say, why don’t you use an Open Engine? I hear they never crash." "Ha! Never crash my perfectly shaped rear. I tried one originally, because I didn’t want to save up enough for a RealWare Engine. It worked fine for a while, but eventually..." he trailed off and became suddenly serious. "When it did crash, it killed my wife and daughter." I froze. "Oh, I’m sorry. I- I didn’t know-" "Ha! Just kidding, I wasn’t married." He ducked the pillow I threw at him, and then stumbled a bit due to his awkward pants situation. "Well, it was nearly that bad though," he added, and then finished donning his pants. "Did you lose a friend?" "No, I lost My House. Nearly a year’s worth of work, gone into nullspace. There are still aspects of this House I haven’t gotten back as good as they were before." "Wait, your House? That’s it? It’s just a house! How is that nearly as bad as losing a wife and daughter?" He smiled gently. "Well, a wife and daughter would be important. But My House is my son." __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| "Woah." That was the best my shocked brain could handle right now. Behind me the taxi Rictor had picked me up in disappeared, but I didn’t even notice. All my attention was on the building in front of me. It was made out of white marble and glass, in some bizarre fusion of fluted pillars and modern skyscrapers that somehow came out looking like an airy confection, solid yet light and beautiful. It was about a hundred meters wide and rested on a flat plain of green grass as far as the eye could see. The arch above the massive crystal doorway peaked into a brilliant crystal pillar that ran up the building into infinity. And when I say into infinity, I mean it: The House rose up and up through a cloudless sky, so high I couldn’t see the top. (This effect is an optical illusion created by manipulating the structure to A) slightly lean over the viewer like half an arch and B) tapering the higher floors’ width and height) Later on, I would realize that at this moment I had already started capitalizing ‘The House’ in my mind. Entering through the doorway (the doors looked heavy but moved as easily as a normal door) I found myself in a huge flower garden, complete with benches and paths, that stretched across the entire floor. High bushes blocked my view of the far ends, but it seemed to be bounded on all sides by a low picket fence, over which the flat grass plain of the outside could be seen. High above, the sun burned in a clear sky. The only other distinguishing feature was the top of a large tree about twenty meters in front of us. We walked to the base of the tree, which was deep red and polished smooth like a piece of furniture, except at the very top where it branched out into a wide canopy. Set into it was a doorway, which led to an elevator. (The garden is real, but the views on the four sides are created by using the Reality Engine to set up ‘windows’ to the outside, so light travels directly from the edge of the wall to inside it, plus adding the stored image of the fence on top. The ceiling is placed at the very top of the elevator tree, just before it branches into the canopy, and the image is created entirely by the Reality Engine. It would be better if the tree led to a spiral staircase, but the house is very tall and concessions to practicality need to be made.) The first floor was taken up by a grand hall used for large gatherings. It had a high, vaulted stone ceiling, several windows, a large wooden table- "You’re hired," I said as I looked around. "But we’ve only seen a small portion of My House," Rictor said, sounding worried. "Don’t you wish to see the rest?" "I wouldn’t stop this tour for controlling interest in RealWare. I’m just saying that you’re hired." The rest of the tour went pretty well. I came away from it with a new employee and a dinner date for the next night. __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| I was furious, but not as much as I thought I should be. Mostly I was sad, like I was watching something beautiful fall towards the floor and shatter in slow motion. I had to ignore my fear and ask the question now, or I might never work up the nerve again. "Do you love The House more than me?" I asked. __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| I stumbled out of the cab, laughing and half drunk, and landed against Rictor, who caught me and pulled me upright. Supporting each other, we made unsteady progress towards The House’s main doors. "So, what’s this special birthday present you have for me?" "You’ll see," Rictor said mischievously. "Aww, when will I see? You’ve been taunting me with it all day," I pouted back. "Well," said Rictor, making a show of looking at his watch. "Just about... when you open the front door." "Really?" I laughed giddly and dashed the last few steps to the doorway, throwing it open and looking inside. I saw it immediately: the elevator tree was now much larger, about three times as wide, and rose upwards into near infinity before sprouting its branches. Its canopy now covered the entire garden, including the silver moon that now hung in the sky, and no doubt the sun as well would now pass beneath it. At first I was awed by the beauty, but then I understood and got angry. "Your present for me is that you fiddled with your damn House?" "It’s not like that," he said in airy dismissal. "You said you liked that tree, so I made it better." "You crazy little..." I trailed off, anger disappearing and being replaced with a strange sadness. "Do you-" I started, but stopped, as I let my fear overcome me. "Oh, nevermind. It really is very pretty." I said with a smile, and wiped a few tears out of my eyes. __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| "Do you love The House more than me?" I asked. He looked at me with a rock-hard gaze and replied, sadly but steadily, "Yes." __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| I snuggled into Rictor’s warm body and gazed up at the moon hanging under my strange birthday present. "It really is pretty," I murmered. "Hmm?" prodded Rictor. "Oh, nothing. The opening really went well, didn’t it?" "Of course. With my design, who could resist the splendor of Krap Food’s unique management philosophy?" I giggled a bit. "You know, you kept explaining it to everyone, but I still haven’t understood what your artistic statement with this building is." "My dear, I would be very upset if you or anyone else understood what my statement was." This, of course, perked my interest. "Really? Can you tell me in simple terms?" "Now that it’s built, I suppose I can say it. In simple terms, it would be..." He paused as he adopted a serious face and tone. "A beautiful surface, yet underneath, soulless." That was enough to keep me laughing for the rest of the night. __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| I had been thinking of it for the past day or two, and finally decided to give my suggestion to Rictor. "Say, have you thought of making doors that can connect to other doors across The House? So you can be in the bedroom, tap a button, and have the door connect to the kitchen? Or bathroom?" He snorted. "Don’t be silly, of course not." To have my carefully considered idea shot down so casually was, to say the least, a bit irritating. "Why not?" "I am making the ultimate house. That kind of door would make it just a collection of rooms." __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| "So it’s over, huh?" said Joel sympathetically. "Sorry. I guess I should have warned you that Rictor gets a lot of girlfriends but has trouble keeping them." "Oh, it’s not all his fault," I said sadly. "I was the one who asked him that question, after all." "Question?" "In my heart I already knew the answer, but I just had to ask. If I hadn’t heard it from his mouth, I would still be able to date him. So, it’s partly my fault." "Ah," said Joel knowingly. "Do you love The House more than me, right?" I laughed bitterly. "Oh, I asked him that, but it was the next question I asked that really mattered. We’d only been dating for a few months, I didn’t expect him to fall in love with me that quickly." For the first and only time, I saw Joel look confused. "Then what was it?" he asked. __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| I was furious, but not as much as I thought I should be. Mostly I was sad, like I was watching something beautiful fall towards the floor and shatter in slow motion. I had to ignore my fear and ask the question now, or I might never work up the nerve again. "Do you love The House more than me?" I asked. He looked at me with a rock-hard gaze and replied, sadly but steadily, "Yes." I took a deep breath and asked the question that really mattered. "Is it possible that you will ever love me more than The House?" __ __ __ __ _____|| _____|| _____|| _____|| / \| / \| / \| / \| | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | | ___ | |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| |__|_|__| PROTECTIONS: For Valerie, the narrator, none. For the steam guy, none. For Rictor or Joel, short cameos that don’t change their character are okay. If you want to use them beyond that, e-mail me for permission. I will probably give it, as long as you don’t want to kill them, radically change them, or make either one an abnormal. Especially Rictor, who is simply a gifted architect and artist, NOT an abnormal.