Sep 13th, 2081
The cube settled onto the front lawn with a softness that belied its solid form. A wholly automated testament to excess, it was Magnus's way of boasting without saying a word—he had launched a boulder from Denmark, and it had landed on their property with precision. The craft's simplicity was almost more ostentatious than if it had been more complex. A mere cube, each side spanning three meters, crowned with a tug drive. Inside, there were four seats and a modest refrigerator. The computer systems were surely integrated into the walls, its controls projected into the air as a holographic interface. Transparent material replaced the upper half of the four walls, while the lower sections gleamed with chrome metal.
Richard quipped with a sidelong glance at Brenda, "Let me guess, its name is Danish for 'humble hubris'?"
Brenda giggled, which Richard appreciated, as his jokes hadn't been landing for days. Ever since the trip was planned, she had taken his comments too seriously.
It took them a few minutes to figure out entry, which ultimately involved pressing against the glass on one of the walls.
Looking around, Richard said, "You'd better remember to go before we leave, because I don't see any restrooms."
Brenda eyed the air display. "Well, that's insultingly simple— he's already programmed in the flight. It's basically a big red button. We'll shoot up out of the atmosphere and land on his roof, 1g the whole way. Forty-three minutes—think you can hold it?"
"I think a lab coat and tight gray workout shorts send the wrong message, don't you?" he remarked.
She laughed again at his observation. "Okay, I'll meet you back here in an hour. Why don't you put some food in the fridge, but don't eat anything."
Brenda returned in thick denim bib overalls with a denim button-down work shirt and even some hefty work shoes for good measure. Richard was dressed casually, as he always did, in jeans and a plaid shirt. It was bad enough that Magnus was technically royalty; there was no need to treat him that way.
Upon entering the vehicle, Brenda settled into a seat and casually flung a tablet onto one of the unoccupied chairs. It was bulkier than the paper-thin models she typically preferred when away from the estate, but its adaptability was necessary. The tablet's chunky appearance belied its sophisticated design; it was a self-reorganizing unit, capable of adjusting its connectivity based on the environment.
Richard claimed the chair next to her and peered out of the transparent wall with a hint of unease. "I'd really prefer solid walls, but I suppose at 1G, I can manage," he remarked, attempting to sound nonchalant.
"One G of constant acceleration," she corrected him gently, "which means we'll be hitting speeds close to 17,000 kilometers per hour at the apex. Practically straight up and back down."
Her correction was delivered matter-of-factly, a reminder of the extraordinary feat of physics that allowed them to travel with such deceptive normalcy.
Without warning, she pressed the sizable button hovering in the air, and they began their ascent, as gentle and dreamlike as a balloon set free. Richard observed with both fascination and a tinge of discomfort as the ground receded smoothly beneath them, their pace gradually quickening. As the view expanded to reveal the entire country, their increasing velocity started to smear the scenery below them into a blur.
And then, almost abruptly, they were in space. The window offered a stark dichotomy—the inky void speckled with distant stars on one side, the vibrant blue of Earth on the other. Richard's stomach churned, the discomfort creeping up on him, but he was determined not to let it show. He glanced at Brenda beside him, whose face was alight with awe and complete absorption in the moment.
The irony was not lost on Richard. Theoretically, the ship could disintegrate at this very moment, and he, possessing an immortal form, might survive assuming his brain endured the fiery ordeal of reentry—potentially recovering in time. However, this far-fetched reassurance did nothing to alleviate his mood. Instead, it reignited his simmering anger toward Brenda for her continual procrastination of the immortality treatment. Her advanced age left her vulnerable and frail—unnecessarily so, in his opinion. Logic also failed to soothe the phobic reaction that was gripping him in the silent void of space.
They spent most of the trip in silence.
Brenda's laugh broke the quiet. "Magnus will be expecting us. Are you ready to put on your charm offensive?"
Richard's expression tightened faintly. "As if charm has ever worked on him. The man's too infatuated with his own genius to notice anyone else's." He paused, his voice taking on a bitter note. "Not that I'm keen on pandering to his vanity."
"Sour grapes don't suit you, Richard. We need his quantum computer. We tolerate Magnus's quirks because he's a genius, not because we enjoy his advances or his self-centered diatribes," Brenda retorted, her practicality thinly disguising her aversion.
Richard exhaled sharply, his look becoming severe. "Lechery masquerading as culture, narcissism as 'just being candid,'" he said, making air quotes with his fingers. "There must be a point where brilliance doesn't excuse a vile character."
"That's a line we can't afford to draw, not when his assets are crucial. We’ll cope—it's not our first encounter with him."
As the ship commenced its steady descent, Denmark's contours grew crisper. Richard steeled himself, glanced back at Brenda, and said, "You lead the way. I'll stick close and make sure the coffee cups act as a barricade."
As they drew nearer to their destination, Richard found an unexpected tranquility in scoping out the island beneath them. As soon as the castle came into view, he focused intently on its outline, using the details to anchor his calm as they continued their steady downward journey.
When Magnus purchased the island, he had his ancestral castle relocated and reconstructed here, brick by brick, stone by stone. Subsequently, he fortified the first two floors by sealing the doors and windows with metal-reinforced concrete and installing high-tech booby traps. Automated rail guns were mounted around the ground floor and the roof, but Richard was convinced they were mostly for show. He suspected that far more lethal defenses lay concealed throughout the premises.
The castle exuded a juxtaposition of old-world opulence and a definitive sense of unwelcomeness. The sole point of entry was through the roof—a design that all but promised disaster for uninvited guests attempting to set down. As the proximity to the structure grew closer, Richard subconsciously tightened his fists, a physical manifestation of his apprehension. However, the landing proceeded smoothly as a section of the roof seamlessly unfolded to admit them. They descended gently, without so much as a jolt upon touchdown.
There, to greet them, stood Magnus and Helena, positioned just outside the vessel with welcoming gestures.
Richard was struck by Helena's presence as she approached them. He remembered her from the brief time he’d spent at the castle back in the 2030s when they were still fully human. Seeing her now was like gazing at a living snapshot from her modeling days, only better—she wasn't just a frozen image; she was real, living, breathing, and somehow, ten years younger than she had been back then. The transition to immortality had refined her beauty in a way that brought her even closer to those old pictures, with an added layer of timelessness. It dawned on him that Immortalization would have undone any cosmetic work, meaning her beauty was entirely natural.
Meanwhile, Brenda stood amongst the ageless beings, her own mortality feeling more pronounced in the company of those who had sidestepped the natural course of time. A brief pang of something she couldn’t quite define flickered through her—some mix of envy or discomfort she didn't want to dwell on. She shrugged it off, her focus returning to the task at hand.
"OK, game faces on. You keep them distracted. These calculations are going to change the world."
"Again?" Richard's words came with a hint of skepticism. "How many changes can this world survive?"
He knew as soon as he spoke that his comment would sting, and he instantly regretted it. Shifting his mindset back to the task at hand, Richard braced himself. "Let's do this."
Exasperated, he muttered, "Oh, for Christ's sake, how do we open this freaking thing? God, that man's ego! He’s loving every second that I can’t figure this out." A few seconds later, Richard found the touch plate that made the wall slide out and then down.
Once they had exchanged pleasantries and greetings, the St. Seres gestured them toward the huge metal bulkhead. A blue laser scanned over them, eventually settling on Magnus's eye; it beeped in approval, and the giant doors slid open. After a small walkway, a less grand but still impressive marble archway awaited.
Richard stared at the great arch that served as the passageway into the St. Sere estate. Etched in the marble was the phrase, "If you are the smartest one in the room, you are in the wrong place." Knowing what a narcissist Magnus was, Richard wondered whether that meant one should always seek greater education, or if it was intended as an invitation to visit his estate. Richard smiled at his inward joke.
Their hope was to get right down to business. Of course, it couldn't be that simple. Magnus insisted on hosting a meal for them.
The elaborate dinner tableau was a spectacle of indulgence, every detail seemingly chosen to impress and perhaps even to intimidate. The grand dining hall of Magnus's castle shimmered with candlelight that cast a warm glow on the opulent setting. Long tables were laden with a medley of gastronomic delights; the scents of rich sauces and roasted meats mingled with the subtle fragrance of rare spices lingering in the air.
Servers in crisp attire moved gracefully between guests, pouring vintages of wine from bottles bearing no labels—each one, no doubt, a treasure from Magnus's private collection. The synchronized clinking of silverware was occasionally punctuated by the sizzle of a flambé dish being finished tableside, an overt display of culinary theatrics.
In one corner, as if a mere aesthetic flourish, a violin quartet weaved enchanting melodies, their bows gliding and dancing upon the strings with a precision that made their music seem all at once a spontaneous creation and a rehearsed masterpiece.
Yet amidst this sensory feast, Richard could barely conceal his disdain. He rolled his eyes discreetly at the quartet, his skepticism about the evening's necessity not fully masked. It wasn't just the ostentation that troubled him; it was the time they were losing, precious minutes slipping away as the performance stretched on, crowding out their real purpose for being here.
He caught Brenda's eye from across the table, her look one of patient endurance, a silent pact between them to endure the festivities. With a subtle nod, they both turned their attention back to the meal, recognizing this interlude of civility for what it was—a necessary prelude to the negotiations that lay ahead.
Stretching her legs between courses Brenda touched her fingers lightly against the cold, reinforced walls, her gesture subtly hinting at her true thoughts about the castle's imposing defenses.
"You probably don't get a lot of guests," she quipped, her eyes taking in the expansive fortifications that would deter any uninvited company.
"On the contrary," Helena replied softly, a slight smile gracing her lips, "Magnus receives many visitors. Captains of industry and heads of state are all too keen to garner his favor. And rest assured, no one departs from his table unfed."
As the evening wore on, Brenda and Richard both realized that any meaningful discussions regarding their work were unlikely to materialize before the next day. They initially tried to sidestep the freely flowing wine, a tactical decision to remain clear-headed. But as any hopes of diving into work faded with the setting sun, they finally allowed themselves to embrace the role of esteemed guests. They laughed heartily at the conversation around them, glasses raised in unity, appreciating the joyful artifice of the evening.
The night continued with a series of delectable dishes, each more sumptuous than the last. With a toast to their hosts, Richard and Brenda surrendered to the festivities — the promise of tomorrow's labor a distant consideration, set aside for the moment's merriment.
Later, they were shown to a bedroom that was impressive even considering the grandeur Brenda was accustomed to from her childhood. Both she and Richard half-expected some form of proposition for a foursome, which, thankfully, did not materialize.
"Maybe you were right. I've lost my appeal," Brenda mused with a chuckle. "Not that I'm complaining, but it might have been nice to be asked."
"That is a pretty big revision of what I said. And you still have appeal to me," Richard replied, his voice tinged with a warmth that suggested deeper feelings. "Allow me to prove it."
He absolutely adored her giggle.