Into the Rabbit Hole
“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” said Sophie to her friend as the taxi closed in on their destination.
“If you get past the initial impression, it’s actually pretty cozy, and the food is fantastic,” Tina answered, looking lazily through the cab window at the evening strollers thinning out as the neighbourhoods were getting worse.
"The food," the air quotes could practically be heard in Sophie’s voice.
“Yeah, kinda like pork, but more delicate. Healthier, too, or so they say.”
“I’m going to puke just from thinking about it.”
“I thought so, too. But it goes down easier than you’d think. And you can’t really be a picky eater, not in this... market.”
“Market or not, I can’t believe they had the nerve to invite us there.” Sophie shook her head. “I mean... It’s worse than a date in a strip club.”
“Nah, it’s really quite fancy, besides the obvious part. You’ll see. And those guys are fancy, too. You want a high-value man—there’s a price for it, and it only goes up nowadays. A pretty face and a blowjob ain’t gonna cut it anymore. You gotta be... elastic. And proactive.”
“A little economic downturn here, a lot of job automation there, and we are back in the 50s, only worse. Fuck my life.”
“It’s already fucked. We’re unfucking it. Be charming and behave. And learn to swallow. Starting with food. Even... strange... food.”
The taxi stopped, and they got out carefully so as not to damage their evening dresses. Rented, both of them, and the deposit had put a serious dent in their shrinking savings.
The whole neighbourhood was unremarkable, for the venue was a secret—if a widely known one—but it seemed that even the taxi’s AI wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible. Sophie scanned the street for the entrance. No good. All the gloomy archways and dark windows looked equally suspicious. “Okay, what now? You know how to get in?” she asked.
“Yes, but I think we should wait for the guys outside. It’s a weird feeling to go in there... unaccompanied.”
“Weird? You mean fucking terrifying? We look like hoes standing here on the street.”
“Helps get into character,” said Tina sarcastically.
“Fuck you.”
“Thanks, but I’m already booked for today, and so are you. They should be here any minute now.”
Another taxi stopped by, and a tall man in his late forties got out. Slick, grey-flecked hair, a well-tailored suit, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a white, fake smile that bloomed as he approached the women.
Tina smiled back and said chirpily, “Hi Thomas! You’re early.”
“Hello, Tina. Just a few minutes.” He kissed her cheek. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you. I clean up, now and then. This is my friend, Sophie. Sophie, Thomas.”
Thomas looked like a serious guy. Tina never told her exactly who she started dating, but from all the vague mentions, an impossible image of James Bond crossed with the CEO of a Fortune 500 company formed in her mind. However, the latter were usually googlable, while he had zero social media presence.
Sophie realised she is staring for a little too long. “Nice to meet you. Tina has told me a lot about you.”
“All good things, I hope. A pleasure, Sophie. Thanks for joining us tonight.”
“Thanks for having me.”
“So, shall we go inside and have a drink?” for all his confidence, Thomas didn’t seem eager to stay on the street either.
“Shouldn’t we wait for your friend?” asked Tina.
“Oh, I imagine he came in earlier. To check today’s selection and save us some time later.”
“Amazing,” Tina said with appreciation. “It’s always a little... overwhelming, this part.”
“It sure is. He’d probably come out soon to look for us, but let’s surprise him instead.”
Thomas led them through one of the archways, straight into darkness. Even with him leading the way, it really was scary. They saw a strange blue light ahead, which soon turned out to be a blinking neon for a bar. The entrance sank below the pavement level. Neon said ‘Last Offramp’.
Thomas offered Tina his arm as she navigated the slick steps, then climbed back up to take Sophie’s hand.
“Thank you,” Sophie said smoothly. “Nice to meet a man confident enough to handle both of us.”
Tina’s eyes narrowed, but Sophie smiled sweetly. Be charming and behave, was it?
Thomas chuckled, his voice low. “A challenge, no doubt. But one I’m happy to rise to.”
The bar was almost empty. A bored bartender gave them a tired look as they approached. Thomas took a few banknotes from his wallet and put them on the bar.
"La Brume for the ladies and me. Neat, if possible.”
The bartender pressed something under the counter, almost too subtly to notice. He took the money, counted it, and handed one of the notes back to Thomas. It was old and worn out, with some scribbles on it.
“There’s just whisky and beer here, mate, and it ain’t that expensive. Have a seat in the back room. I’ll get your drinks in a minute,” he said.
The back room was cozy, but neither Thomas nor Tina was sitting down, so Sophie stayed up, too. Soon, the door on the opposite wall opened, and a woman in an elegant black waitress uniform invited them inside.
*****
The elevator was humming, and Sophie felt her heart pounding—the last beats of relative normalcy. The rest of the evening will be an exquisite, elegant... nightmare. Before the elevator came to a stop, their guide passed them ballroom masks — golden for the women, black for the men. The elevator doors didn’t open on their own. The woman’s finger hovered over the button as she waited for the guests to put on their masks. Cliché, Sophie thought, looking at her masked company, but pretty. The elevator door opened, and she gulped.
It looked like the foyer of a famous theater, perhaps an opera house. All golden and glittery, with marble floors and backlit landscape paintings pretending to be windows, framed by rectangular columns. Sophie looked up. Paintings on the ceiling and crystal chandeliers. Class, not necessarily, but definitely some budget. Though this was a place you’d go to if you had everything already, so she’d rather expect elegant minimalism. But she never really understood rich people and their... taste.
It all didn’t seem to make much of an impression on her company. They headed straight for the host station, but as they came near, Sophie slowed down as she glanced into a side corridor they passed. It seemed to lead into the dining room, but this was not what drew her attention. It was the glass walls on both sides of the corridor, and the pink, moving shapes behind them. She barely noticed the man standing in the corridor, but he noticed her and approached quickly.
Thomas stopped and said in the same polite tone as always, “Oh, here you are. Sophie, please meet Greg. Greg is a test pilot and a lion tamer.”
“Excuse me?” asked Sophie.
Thomas laughed. “Actually, he is a stockbroker, but he asked me to invent something more interesting.”
Greg looked at him with a slight frown, then smiled at Sophie.
Thomas continued, “Greg, the beautiful lady here is Sophie, and... I believe Tina said you’re a graphic designer?”
“Most of the time, yes,” she said, deciding not to mention just yet that she was between jobs, or rather, between a job and a wall of rejections.
Greg wasn’t as handsome or as confident as Thomas, but at least he was younger and had better hair. The smile and his eyes seemed honest, but that he waited for them in front of—yes, she glanced again, that was the selection—was as off-putting as she could imagine. Damn, why did she allow Tina to drag her into this?
Because nothing matters anymore.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “First time here?”
“The pleasure’s all mine. What gave me away?”
“Your eyes are wide as saucers. Not that anyone would complain about seeing them so clearly,” he added quickly, the compliment coming out just a little stiff.
She smiled politely, thinking how little she cared what someone who had just spent several minutes staring at naked bodies would think about her eyes. “It’s all strange, but I’m adapting.”
As the introductions took them a minute, another couple cut in before them and approached the reception desk. The man was broad and tall, wearing a well-fitting suit and a confident half smile, moving like he owned the place. The woman on his arm was more nervous. Pretty in an overdone way, gold jewellery and dark fake tan, and a designer tracksuit that would probably somehow work on the red carpet, but here...
“I apologise, but your outfit does not match our dress code.” The hostess was not impressed.
“That’s Balenciaga,” the woman responded in an offended tone.
“Naturally, but I’m afraid we require formal attire.”
“I literally wore this on the step and repeat.”
“It is lovely, Madam... just not for this occasion.”
“Well, I do not have any formal attire with me,” the air quotes could be heard clearly.
“As a matter of fact... you do. Our dress code allows for the... original state of formality. The attire you were born in, Madam. Think of this place as... the devil’s ballroom.”
Was this a Master and Margarita reference? Sophie wondered if anyone else had caught it.
The guest looked at her partner for help, but he only smiled and said, “Don’t worry; I’m with you. As always.”
Easy to say when you are the one wearing a suit. As the guest began undressing, another staff member entered and whispered to the host.
The latter frowned and said much firmer, “My apologies, but artificial companions are not allowed on the premises.”
That explains her fake look, Sophie thought, observing the woman’s flawless, yet unexpressive face and chiselled abdomen. Her partner said,
“I assure you—”
“We’re not interacting. Wait for your owner’s decision.” The hostess’ voice was even colder; she refused even to look at him.
The guest stopped undressing and asked, “You expect me to walk in there naked and without Daniel?”
“He can wait in the dressing room with your clothing. I’m afraid this is the final decision.”
“I’m not dining alone. Why do you think I even bought him?” The would-be guest zipped the jacket up with angry finality. “Daniel, we are leaving.”
“As you wish. We’d be delighted to host you at some other time.” The smile on the hostess’s face was as impenetrable as the restaurant’s rules. “Have a nice evening, Madam.”
She didn’t bother to answer, just turned on her heel and strolled towards the elevator, the handsome robot in tow, his confident look now simply a lack—lack of doubt, fear, thought... just emptiness. Maybe confidence is always like that.
“She did that on purpose,” Thomas whispered with a tiny smile, as they waited for the hostess to finish with her tablet and invite them.
“What do you mean?” asked Tina.
“The tracksuit thing. She thought she could cover one blunder with another. Cogsuckers...” he shook his head. “Once you start losing reality’s feedback, it all falls apart at the seams.”
And what kind of reality’s feedback leads us here, of all places? Sophie thought, but said nothing.
The hostess looked up. “Good evening, and welcome to La Brume. May I have the name of the reservation?” she asked, looking at Thomas with a strange little smile in the corner of her mouth.
