The Welcome Party

Emory took the ceremonial sabre and ran it along the edge of the champagne bottle, the cork releasing with a satisfying pop. Celeste caught the fizz as it foamed out in a delicate crystal flute. The others clapped, though they’d seen him do it a thousand times before. It seemed the right thing to do.

The sun set as it always did, off the starboard bow. The golden rays kissed the bottom of the clouds, pale pink and wispy as candy floss. Everyone stood around, sipping cocktails and nibbling on lobster and smoked salmon hors d'ouevres. They were exquisite, of course. Henri Pierre was a 4 starred Michelin chef and never let an imperfect morsel out of the kitchen. Later there would be a 15-course tasting menu featuring delicacies from all over the world, rock oysters and caviar, duck breast and wagyu beef. The dining room would be tastefully decorated with tropical floral displays and enchanting candle light.

Celeste gulped the champagne down swiftly, before stopping a nearby server and taking two more from the tray.

“Steady on, Sissy,” Emory told her. “There’s 15 more wine pairings ahead – don’t want you falling overboard before the crème brûlée.”

“Ugh. I don’t even like the stuff. You know what I fancy? A hotdog. One of those gross ones from the 7-11 gas station on the corner of Main Street. The ones that sit there spinning on the rollers for hours, and you never know if you’ll be spending the rest of the day in ER or not. I want one of those, smothered in that Velveeta hot cheese that you add with a ladle. And tater tots. Do you ever miss tater tots?”

“Can’t say I do. Mum used to make them so often I still dread the sight of that blackened oven tray. And the Mac and cheese… yikes. Hard to believe that really happened.” Emory sipped his champagne, the perfect temperature, not too cold, the bubbles releasing evenly. He leant over the mahogany rail, watching the dolphins play alongside the yacht.

“Why are there always dolphins? I don’t think I’ve ever been to one of these welcome parties without an entourage of dolphins.”

“What have you got against dolphins, Sissy? They’re adorable. Everyone likes dolphins.”

“I don’t. They look like they’re laughing at us. ‘Look at the humans in their ridiculous sequins and lace, strutting around like peacocks in heat.’ That’s what they’re thinking. I can just tell.”

“You’re in a delightful mood tonight, aren’t you? A real pleasure to be around.”

She swigged the second glass of champagne, tossing the empty glass angrily into the waves below. The dolphins scattered as the water rippled, but were soon back, leaping gracefully alongside the boat.

Maurice took a fork and tinged it against his glass. Everyone looked to the small stage area, where the string quartet softly played Pachelbel’s Cannon in D Major. He cleared his throat.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight we’d like to welcome the Brandenburgs to our little community. Lucille, Adrian, come up here and introduce yourselves!” He stepped to one side, gesturing a nervous looking couple out from the shadows.

Lucille was a statuesque woman, her glossy brown hair in an elegant chignon, a sleeveless black dress by one of the current design houses… Chez Nous perhaps. Her husband was somewhat dumpy, his tux just a little too tight around the middle. His hair was thinning on top, carefully combed and styled to hide a prominent bald spot.

Celeste sighed. Every time she hoped for someone interesting, some possibility that things would be shaken up a little. Some drama, an affair, or a criminal mastermind… anything other than the nouveau riche middle-aged banker types that kept showing up. She downed the third glass, smearing her red lipstick across the back of her hand. A moment later a waiter stood beside her, a hot towelette and bowl of lemon water for her to clean herself in.

“How do they do that, Emory? How do they always know whatever we are going to need or want, before we do?”

“I guess they’re just well trained. I mean, this place costs a fortune, stands to reason they’d only hire the very best.”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. It’s all too much. Too perfect. Don’t you think? Like – why is it always cocktail hour, or a masquerade ball, or tennis and strawberries on the lawn? Why is the pool always the ideal temperature, and the bed turned down with that little chocolate on the pillow? Why is it whenever I try to sleep in I still wake up, perfectly rested, at exactly 7am?”

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. Things are too good here for you? Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

“You know… I haven’t shaved in six months. Look at my legs!” She lifted her knee, her tanned leg completely smooth.

“Hardly something to get het up about.” Emory rubbed his jaw, trying to remember when he had last shaved himself.

“And the alcohol – how much did you drink last night?”

“Hmmm. Well, there was champagne to start, then a glass of white with the amuse bouche, that claret with the beef…” he trailed off.

“So about 16 glasses of wine and liquor? More, if you went into the cigar room afterwards, a few double whiskeys perhaps?”

“I guess so. Never really thought about it, to be honest.”

“But when you woke up, did you have a hangover? Have you ever had a hangover in the entire time we’ve been here?” Celeste was getting louder now, people were starting to stare.

“Shhh! You’re making a scene. I just assumed they put something in the food, you know, anti-hangover pills or something. I mean, this is a top-notch resort.”

“It’s more than that. Wait – let me show you!” She unfastened her Tiffany heart locket from her wrist, holding the bracelet out over the edge of the boat.

“Oh now steady on, Sissy – that was a gift from Uncle Jonathon! Don’t…”

Too late. She tipped her hand, the bracelet slipping beneath the crystal water, shimmering as it plunged down to the white sands below.

“Why did you do that? You really are being a pain in the butt tonight.”

“Wait and see. Give it a minute.” Celeste looked to her left, where a waiter was heading towards them.

“Ma’am?” He said with a bow. “I believe you lost this.” He held out a silver tray and there, lying on a doily, was her locket.

“Why, it’s not even wet! How the devil?” Emory was amazed. “That’s quite the magic trick, Sissy.”

“It’s no trick. Look overboard – it’s gone, see? This isn’t a different bracelet – there’s the inscription… now do you see what I’m saying?” She gripped his sleeve, her eyes pleading with him to understand.

“I’m not sure. Do you mean to say you think this place is… not real?”

***

“We’ve got another one, Boss” Leroy said, tapping the computer console as one of the series of numbers turned red and flashed.

“Really? Who is it this time?”

“196,346,557… female. Shall I restart the program?” He lent back in his chair, waiting for his orders.

“Isn’t that the same broad that gave us trouble before? The first class chick, that oil tycoon’s niece?”

“Yeah, it’s her again. We changed up the program some, but it doesn’t seem to take properly. It’s like she always figures it out.”

“I don’t understand it. That simulation is perfect – I worked on it myself! Every last detail is flawless, not a single want or need goes unfulfilled. It’s never ending parties and society events, operas, plays… what the hell is wrong with this woman? Paradise not good enough for her?”

“I dunno. Maybe she’d rather be here with us,” Leroy chuckled dourly.

Outside the window a storm raged, wind blasting ash clouds against the reinforced window. Lightning tore holes in the horizon, illuminating the shattered fragments of fallen skyscrapers.

“I doubt it, but if she wants to swap her canapés and cocktails for my nutrient bar, I’m game.”

“Eh, chance would be a fine thing. No my friend, we’re stuck here till the bitter end. I won’t be able to afford the upload until I’m 85… hell, just delete her and her brother, and reload them. That’ll buy us a few more weeks of peace.”

***

Maurice cleared his throat, and the room quietened. The String Quartet played softly in the background, and everything was enchanting. “Let’s give a warm welcome to the Sheratons, Celeste and Emory.”

Celeste stepped up on the stage, smoothing the skirts of her designer cocktail gown. Beside her, Emory looked dashing in his new tuxedo. She smiled, looking about the deck at the glamorous gathering. Emory took her by the elbow, leading her over to the starboard bow.

“Look, dolphins!” She squealed in delight, as they leapt playfully in the last golden rays of sunset.

“This place really is perfect," she said.