by the expansive common area, as well. Reznik paused for a moment to look around. The room resembled a lounge area, with a number of sofas, tables, and chairs. Bookshelves lined the walls and there were a few people socializing and reading. Reznik had yet to see anyone not wearing the common uniform.
His attention was drawn to a huge banner covering one of the walls. It had the golden Extensis Vitae phoenix logo at the top, along with the scripture passage, “And He shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” The rest of the banner looked like a scene taken from an old Soviet propaganda poster. It featured a group of smiling workers toiling in a field against the background of a ruined city.
They continued on their way, following the signs pointing to “SECURITY DESK” and “ADMINISTRATION.” Reznik noticed more cameras throughout the facility positioned to watch all the main rooms and corridors.
“Where are all the residents?” Reznik asked.
“Most of them are going about their duties,” she replied. “The school-age children attend class at this time of day. Those who don’t have assigned duties or are infirm generally remain in their quarters or the common area or fitness center.”
“What does ‘Extensis Vitae’ mean?”
Myrna didn’t answer at first. After a moment, she said, “I will let the administrator explain that to you.”
They walked in silence for a couple minutes. “Any tips on what to expect from my meeting with Swanson?”
She looked over at him. “His word is law and he holds all the power here. He also isn’t a man who likes to hear ‘no’ for an answer, so keep that in mind.”
“Oh, and try to stay out of trouble,” she added as they came up on a reinforced metal door marked in bold red letters “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.” The doors slid open smoothly at their approach.
They entered a spacious room with a large security desk in the center. Two guards sat at the desk watching them. Myrna strode past the desk without a word and Reznik followed. The monitors at the desk displayed the feeds from what looked like dozens of security cameras. The guards seated there watched, stony faced, as he passed. The duo accompanying Reznik and Myrna greeted their comrades briefly, but continued to follow.
Myrna led him down another corridor, passing what looked like some offices on one side and a room with a holding cell on the other. Behind a large window, Reznik could see a darkened room that looked to be filled with computer mainframes; the glow of blinking LEDs extended off into the darkness. They turned a corner toward the administration section. The ever-present hum of machinery was much louder in this part of the facility.
Another sliding metal door opened, revealing a carpeted room. A middle-aged woman sat behind the desk of a nicely furnished lobby. Reznik noticed the stark difference with the rest of the facility. There were several potted plants around the room and plush looking chairs lined the wall. A few paintings hung on the walls and the lighting was warm, not like the cool LEDs found throughout the rest of the facility. There was a door behind the receptionist’s desk and another off to the right. Myrna exchanged pleasantries with the receptionist.
“Mr. Reznik?” the woman called out. Reznik looked over and she smiled. “Administrator Swanson will see you now.”
Chapter 3
If the lobby was well appointed, then Swanson’s office could be described as luxurious. Full bookshelves lined the walls. A massive oak desk with a couple chairs placed before it dominated the center of the room.
A large picture window that Reznik suspected was another projection took up the far wall. Bright natural light poured into the room from the picturesque view of a lake surrounded by the well-tended grounds of what could have been a country club. The projection was realistic enough that had there been a door, it looked as if one would have been able to step right out into the scene.
Swanson was seated in a leather executive chair, shuffling through some papers on the desk. “ADMINISTRATOR MALCOLM T. SWANSON,” a plaque on the desk proclaimed.
As if he had just noticed their arrival, Swanson looked up and beamed. “Ah, there you are! I hope the accommodations are to your liking?” He stood and extended his hand.
“Yes