Hunter hadn't known what to expect. Maybe an SUV, like the one Joyce had sent to pick him up from Seckina, or something a bit more incognito and mainstream, which you would see hundreds of while driving through the Oberon Capital. What Hunter hadn't expected, although he thought he should have, was a Kellese — a construct-dominant car designed by a company called Kreig with high-society clients in mind, built for people who have plenty of credits and affinity to spare.
As far as Hunter knew, Kreig had been around since the beginning of the automotive industry, and their shift towards incorporating constructs in their products had been revolutionary. They'd maintained something of a monopoly on the luxury end of their niche; not lucrative enough to afford a Seat at the Council, but enough to net them worldwide recognition. Hunter would bet that most Council Seats had one or two stored away in a garage somewhere.
Hunter wondered how the mind of such an individual worked. What was Trey's intention? Was this a message to Hunter?
For once in his life, Hunter didn't mind the idea of having his psychology toyed with by a super-rich monarch. Next to getting himself inside of a ship bound outworld, this car was the second best thing.
His driver's name was Barry. He had introduced himself with a smile and a tip of his hat. They enjoyed a short and awkward elevator ride together and Berry led Hunter out the back of the building. When Hunter had seen the Kellese parked by the back entrance of the hotel, his heart had skipped a beat. People considered it a symbol of power for a reason. The Kellese's design, unlike typical automotive designs which prioritize right angles and practicality, mimics a predator poised to strike, capable of lightning-fast acceleration.
Kreig went far off the beaten path with how they designed their cars. He'd heard people say that the Kellese were an eyesore, but Hunter couldn't disagree more.
Barry opened a door for Hunter, and Hunter stepped into a level of luxury he hadn't enjoyed in many, many years. The thought almost brought back a pang of grief, but he pushed it away before it could ruin such a sweet moment. Barry entered the driver's seat and put his hands on the wheel, and at his touch, the car came to life. He could hear the etherium sing, he could feel the desires rise and fall as it flowed from glyph to glyph, accelerating here, decelerating there, amplified here, reinforced there, he could hear the subtle songs of Fire and Ice glyphs, he could hear a whirring chorus from the front of the car, underneath the hood. It was angelic.
But it was also inefficient. He could sense some subtle, familiar distortions. When the etherium desired to soar, it was made to bare weight. When it wanted to scream at the top of its lungs, it was made to whisper. He could feel that at certain points, the etherium would disappear, kind of like how eyes had a blind spot. It felt the same with the etherium. Hunter would need to verify it himself, but it would seem that Kreig had been experimenting with using Drawstone shards instead of Link glyphs. It was an old method — expensive. Drawstones were cheap, but cutting a drawstone with precision was an expensive process, and it demanded a high AR cost. Based on feel alone, Hunter would say that the AR requirement of this ride was over 50 at the very least, and might even go as high as the 60s.
The process of using shards instead of link glyphs had been a brief episode in the history of constructs and networks — lasting a handful of years before his father introduced Link. He wondered why they were using shards, given the inefficiency. A Link glyph would suffice. But then he remembered they hadn't designed these products for consumers concerned about cost and effectiveness. He'd heard stories of how wealthy clients preferred form over function — especially wealthy clients with high ARs. He'd heard that Krieg's core customer base came from the Pacific Shield. Most of the Pacific Shield's core business was security; retired or active military families, having trained their AR like they would any muscle.
Barry impressed Hunter. He showed no sign of strain or exhaustion from keeping the car running for a long time.
Hunter bore witness to a beautiful view, along with one of the most scenic countryside's that Hunter had ever seen. In the distance, he could see the great Hook mountain growing closer. Hook was a small mountain that the Oberon's called home for more than a century.
It took an hour after having reached the countryside to make it to the Oberon's estate. Barry must have had an AR in the high 60s at least. Maybe even higher. Hunter would have placed his age somewhere around the late 40s. That wasn't a bad score. People's AR plateaued as approach their 40th year. It was only those who train frequently with drawstones, or have a high natural affinity, who will experience growth into their later years, and who also benefited from an increased longevity. On average, a person with an AR over 50 lived at least 10 years longer than average. Those with ARs over 100 have lived as long as 140 years.
Hunter had never been to the mountains, and he enjoyed the novel scenery. Eventually the thin, winding road flanked by forest gave way and up to a manicured lawn that seemed endless. The lawn must have run for half a mile on both sides. He wondered whose job it was to maintain it. How well would the Oberon family pay that worker? The lawn was trimmed along the edge closest to the road, with an assortment of trees which had been shaped as they'd grown. Their trunks twisted in spirals, their branches arcing in symmetry, creating something of a sparse canopy, coloured red, yellow, and orange as autumn rose in summer's retreat.
Just before the Oberon mansion, the road bifurcated around a floral arrangement that appeared to resemble a crest — a family crest, too complex for Hunter to give much thought to. And who else would it belong to? As they passed the crest, the mansion itself appeared. A study in sleek design — old fashioned gravitas meeting modernity — it was a squat building, only 3 storeys total. An arrowhead shape pierced the sky at the front of the house; two large columns flanked the front door.
Barry disengaged the car — the etherium continuing to flow after Barry had taken his hands off the wheel. It was fascinating. Hunter wanted to take the car apart and understand every inch of its design. He wondered if they used small batteries to siphon a small charge, which would slowly discharge over the next few hours. The car would deactivate over seconds as the glyph networks demanded and devoured the etherium held in the batteries' grasp.
After leaving the Kellese behind, Barry led Hunter to the front door of the Estate. Mrs. Verilion appeared to be expecting them, opening the door before they could knock. She wore a bright smile and waved Hunter in.
"Thanks for the smooth ride, Barry! Such a beautiful car," Hunter said, still getting over the high of having been inside such an artisanal masterpiece.
"Always a pleasure to drive someone who has an eye for true beauty, Mr. Koar," Barry bowed, and then left to bring the car to wherever it called home.
"Welcome to the Oberon family estate, Mr. Koar. You seemed to have enjoyed the ride over, which I'm proud to hear. Mr. Oberon thought you'd appreciate the Kellese more than most. He is just concluding some business and will be ready to receive you shortly. Come on in, have you eaten?" Mrs. Verilion asked, moving before Hunter could answer.
"I'm starving," Hunter said. He had never pushed himself like he had over the last couple of days. The morning coffee had done a little to tide over his appetite, but it returned with a vengeance during the drive. She led him to a small waiting room for what he assumed to be Trey Oberon's home office. He sat across from a large wooden double door with intricate chrome handles; one of the more modern additions to the mansion, Hunter assumed. A wall that appeared to be solid rock framed it. Whether or not it was a facade, Hunter couldn't tell. He figured the Council Seat could afford to have a rock wall installed inside his house, if for no other reason than the fact that it looked badass.
Hunter realized he was feeling very impressed by Trey Oberon so far. He wondered if this had been his intention when he sent a driver in a Kellese to pick him up. Hunter wouldn't put it past a Council Seat to know how to knead at people's emotions for their own advantage.
Hunter calmed himself down with a deep breath. With the upset from his ranking yesterday, maybe he was just looking for a reason to ride a positive emotion for all it was worth.
Had Trey Oberon been counting on that?
He shuddered at the thought. If he was overthinking it, it might serve him well. Trey Oberon was a bureaucrat at the highest level of society. He couldn't know if he was being paranoid, or practical and realistic in his assessment. Trey Oberon led one of the most successful mega-corporations in the world. The other Council Seats have all proven themselves to be mercurial, cold, and hungry for whatever scrap of advantage they could get.
There was no reason to believe that Oberon Enterprises would be any different, he assumed. This would be a meeting that would require every ounce of brainpower Hunter could summon. He would not allow himself to be taken advantage of. His future would depend on it.
He wasn't delusional. He knew he couldn't outwit a career politician. But he would have to try. Who knows? Maybe he'd surprise himself.
Despite all his assumptions, Hunter did not know what to expect from the meeting itself. He doubted that Trey Oberon would have had Hunter driven all the way over to his family estate just to shake his hand and congratulate him on placing 5th in the competition. He hoped this meeting was going to function more like a job interview.
He huffed at the thought. If he'd have told himself a month ago that he would be unironically considering working for a corporation, whether it was on his own terms or chained to a desk, Hunter would have thought that the Comics had tainted his water supply with a particularly potent hallucinogen.
It wouldn't have occurred to him, even in his worse nightmare. But Hunter realized that when it came down to the wire, he could make choices he wouldn't otherwise contemplate. He hated admitting it, but he was long past the point of turning his nose at the prospect of continually having to impress, kiss ass, and ingratiate himself to a hierarchy if he had even the barest sliver of a chance of getting off of Sanctuary.
What would the trajectory of his life look like when he walked back through those two large wooden doors?
Mrs. Verilion returned with a couple of sandwiches, saying that her morning had been busy as well and that she hadn't had time to eat yet. He made a comment about Trey being a demanding boss, and she laughed, but then corrected him.
"I knew what the job was when Mr. Oberon brought me on. As far as bosses go, I've seen a lot worse. I've had colleagues call me during mental breakdowns, hiding in bathrooms where their boss couldn't find them. It takes a certain person to be a Council Seat, and many of them don't understand why everyone around them can't work 18-hour days, 7 days a week like they can," she said.
"And you're saying that Mr. Oberon is different?" Hunter asked.
"In some ways, he's the same, of course. He's running a seated corporation without a board of executives to pass all the big decisions off to," she said, "you can't get around the workload and the stress that comes with it, but he's self aware of how his capabilities, and the capabilities of the people he works with can vary. He tries to be fair when he can."
She took a bite of her sandwich, and Hunter took the chance to eat his own. He anticipated a culinary experience on par with his luxurious transport.
But it was just a normal sandwich. It was a tasty sandwich, but Hunter had tasted a thousand like it before. Honestly, he'd have preferred a bit more mustard.
Mrs. Verilion checked her watch.
"He should finish in about 5 minutes; is there anything else I can get you while you wait?"
"Is there a washroom around here?" he asked. She nodded and pointed him to a door down the hallway.
"If that's all, then I'll see you when your meeting has concluded," she said, smiling as she left.
The next 5 minutes felt like 10.
Hunter quickly ate the rest of his sandwich and sighed, wishing he'd also asked for coffee. He'd had a small one earlier in the morning, just before Barry picked him up, but the toll that the competition had taken had affected him more than he'd expected. Something inside him had been strained past the breaking point. He'd only felt it a few times in his life, and it had only ever been to a fraction of the degree compared to what he was feeling now.
His mind was functioning fine, but something deep within him — it was the only way Hunter knew how to describe it — felt like it was signalling for nourishment. That went away after a day of rest, but this was louder than it had ever been before. Loud enough that Hunter could almost notice the strangeness of it. It didn't feel physical — although he felt drowsy; it felt more like a subtle inefficiency in a construct.