Core Drive: A Westworld Story

Reverie 2015-A: Logan

The sound of heels clacking over smoothed metal floors reminded Logan of his sister's nail drumming habit when she was anxious. It tended to make him anxious too. And he was trying hard to save face.

Logan and his father, James, were getting the standardised tour of the facility by a well-spoken, long-legged blonde. Poised and elegant, she garnered more attention to her figure in her tight black number than she did the building she was showcasing; the foundations of which were to become Westworld. It was by design, of course. No better way to make someone feel self-important than having a beautiful person be at their beck and call.

Westworld, Logan pondered the name. It sounded a bit too theatrical for his tastes, but it suited Delos Corporation's advertising department. And as long as the money flowed and the numbers looked good, his father was satisfied. Not that Logan had ever seen an ounce of true satisfaction on his father's face. All it held was contempt under a perpetually disappointed high brow.

It had been a few months since the host demonstration party, time enough for James to plant seeds of doubt in Logan's endeavour and sap the excitement from his bones.

Being stuck hip to hip with his father's condescending gaze and flat toned grunts was beginning to suffocate him. Logan was just itching for an excuse to put some distance between the two of them. Unfortunately, because the gods of his ungodly generation were unkind, there were still two more floors of this show and tell bullshit to get through.

As the blonde led them through the glass-walled offices of the behavioural department, Logan caught sight of something rather peculiar. Amongst all the labcoats running tests, there was a section covered in plastic sheeting; solitude amongst the open windows that peered into the unflattering creation of the hosts. A curiosity.

Behind a glass door was a woman with the most untamed mane for hair. It was too thick to be tied back by one band, so only the top half was swept away and bunched up from her face. Glasses framed her face, a distinct balance between hard edges and round points. There was a warmer tone to her skin which teased a diverse genealogy.

The woman was observing a bird that ran a loop. First, it flapped its wings, reaching out to fly, and once it was on the precipice of flight, it suddenly glitched out. A thud marking its endpoint in the loop as it dropped onto a metal slab.

"Excuse me..." Logan interrupted their tour guide mid-speech. She turned towards him, giving him her full attention. He glanced down at her name tag. "Anna is it?"

"That's correct," Anne nodded.

"What happens on that side of the wing?" Logan pointed to the office area blocked by plastic sheeting.

"Ah, Dr Joy Esperanza's work area. She works in behavioural too. Animal behavioural to be specific. She is the head project manager in charge of all none humanoid coding in the park. Unfortunately, the animal behaviour wing is still undergoing construction so she has to work on the same floor as host behaviour," Anna explained.

James huffed, "Unbelievable. All the money you're asking me to invest and this damn place can't even afford to build damned office spaces on schedule. A fucking mess."

Logan refrained from saying something obscene. Anna held her plastic smile, professionalism coming foremost at all times it seemed.

"Interesting," was all Logan said as Anna continued the tour.

He stayed behind to watch Joy tamper with the glitching bird. Something about the way she handled the small, inorganic creature drew his attention. There was a delicateness to it, almost caring.