Stratus Fear

Chapter 5

When I came to the Terre Celeste entrance a drone guard took my disc pass but had me wait as he processed my information.When he finally felt convinced that I was who I claimed to be, he switched the red sensor light from red to green, meaning I had exactly thirty seconds to pass through the now-you-see-it now-you-don't gate.The gate came attached to those invisible walls that surrounded the community, all equipped with laser sensors to keep the vermin out and the residents safe.I suppose that if you lived up here you didn't want regular stone or brick walls to mar the pristine ambiance.Plus the sensor patterns changed daily so that anybody wishing to trespass would have a hard time trying to figure out how to outwit the circuits, a system far more effective than say real towers with armed guards.

Earlier, when I took the thorough-way to the second tier bridge, I waited twenty minutes for the gatekeepers to process my pass.The fact that I had been summoned to investigate a murder up here didn't seem to faze them, and I had to wait behind as the guards fed my information into their ISO links for approval.Thankfully the traffic remained light, and while I waited I made a note of the residents of Terre Celeste as they passed me by in their shiny, expensive hovers affixed with their special seals to bypass all of us peons.Whether drivers or passengers, the men came spiff and tidy in their suits, the women clad in their chic outfits and glittering jewelry.I could almost smell their designer fragrances, and hear their kind of music through their discreet car stereos, a neoclassical, soft pop fusion with the occasional spiritual and psychological "feel good" message squeezed in between.People paid good money to hear "you are someone special," "you are worthwhile," and "you are loved" a dozen times or more until eventually, I assume, you begin to believe in those little, white subliminal lies.

Now when I finally processed through, I revved the cruiser's engine and started along the main boulevard.Silver plaques with fancy script lettering identified the streets on either side.They all seemed to come with celestial names like Moonbeam, Saturn, Cosmic, Galaxy, and Eclipse.Eventually the streets made several loops around the parameters until they converged and returned to the main gate, but this trip through the privileged kingdom seemed well worth the wait.Somebody up here was missing an opportunity to sell tickets to the masses, a chance to gawk at the elegant and stately residences that populated the blocks, stories upon stories of glass, marble and steel.Some intrepid planner made sure these architectural wonders not only pleased the eye but tickled the rest of the senses as well.And all of the dwellings contained state-of-the-art fixtures and energy saving features, a big selling point at about a hundred million or more per manor house.

The apartment towers came grouped together along a common crescent-shaped drive between Luna Terrace and Serenity Lane.I found a parking space in the underground garage since outside parking lots had been outlawed because they lent no intrinsic value to the overall ambiance and marred the panoramic view.People paid good money to live here in the midst of verdant parks with their plethora of flower beds and trees, the aesthetic sculptures by noted artists, and the cool fountains.Elysian Towers had a large, three-tiered fountain fronting the entrance.Nearby a thirty-foot bronze monolith rose to a trapezoid top, the rays of the sun picking up the verdigris patina of its hammered surface.

The minute I met the manager in the lobby I knew I wouldn't like the guy.For one, he was a drone with smarmy features and a bad wig in a caramel apple color.He wore a double-breasted maroon coat with flouncy epaulets more apropos for a doorman than the overseer of a hundred-plus apartments.Of course, he blended right in with the regal ambiance, the walls papered in a rich red with gold stripes, the mirrors framed in gilt rococo frames, the settees and chairs made in the sumptuous French regency design, and the tables laden with ornate ceramics and vases of silk flowers.

When he offered his hand I shook it briefly, his skin dry and papery.He joked about having to do body scans on all the tradespeople who came here from down below, but since I represented law enforcement and had the right credentials he'd skip the search.I suppose I should have been grateful, but I found him and his body scans repulsive.Still I tried to be as nice as possible when he told me to call him Morrison, at my service whenever I needed him.

"I'll keep that in mind," I assured Morrison."Now if you can tell me how to get to B624, I'd appreciate it."

"Just take the elevator to the sixth floor and turn left along the B corridor.I believe one of your uniformed officers is standing guard outside Mr. McAllister's apartment."

I hung back a moment."Perhaps you can tell me, Morrison, how long Mr. McAllister has been a resident here."

"Seven years at least, and he's been an excellent tenant, doesn't complain or throw loud parties.Last year he served as president of the tenant association.Oh-"Morrison caught himself."I should say he was, as in the past tense."The drone shook his head."Such a sad affair.I hope you catch whoever did this to him."

"I hope so too."