The Tower — Ch 7

Sheryl awoke with Vivienne gently shaking her shoulder. She blinked at the bright daylight coming through the window.

Vivienne held out a glass of water as Sheryl moved her seat upright again.

The cool liquid provided immediate relief as Sheryl turned her attention to the window. “Where are we?”

“An announcement came over the intercom a few minutes ago. We’re about half an hour out. Make-up crews will come around in the next few minutes for any touchups. I’ll need to head to a different area of seating when they’re done so they can film our initial reactions to the island separately.”

Sheryl nodded. “Did they give us a breakdown of what will happen after we land?”

“Not yet.”

There was a knock at the surround, and both women turned to see several ladies from make-up standing there. The director was behind them, looking bored.

The man spoke while the women worked.

“We’ll land in about twenty-five minutes. Mr. Greene will depart first so we can get him and his support team into a simulation run immediately after he processes through legal.” He turned to Sheryl. “There was an accident, and the medical team that was due to meet you will be delayed.”

He turned to face both again. “Ms. Dubois, you’ll be second due to the delay of medical staff. Since you’re a known name, and have your own thoughts of training, you will not be met by an assigned physical fitness trainer. Instead you’ll be met by a your combat training team. You’ll be able to meet physical trainers later and choose one who meets your needs.”

Vivienne nodded. “Once filming of my arrival is complete I’d like to wait for Sheryl, we can go through orientation together.”

One of the director’s eyebrows rose. He turned to Sheryl. “Do you want to do orientation at the same time?”

Sheryl smiled. “It would be nice.”

The man shrugged and nodded. “Fine. Legal can handle intake of two at once. You’ll go through orientation together then through legal.”

The make-up crews followed as the director left a moment later.

“I guess I should go find a new seat,” Vivienne said after a few minutes. “The island should be visible any minute.”

“I’ll see you after I disembark,” Sheryl said softly.

Vivienne nodded then strolled down the aisle and out of sight.

Water stretched to the horizon, sparkling in the afternoon sun. The tiny whirr of a drone camera behind Sheryl as the crew prepared to catch as much of her reaction as possible.

Then, rising in the distance, a jagged cut in the clear blue sky. Sheryl’s breath caught in her throat. The dark cut quickly expanded, spreading across the line where the sea met the sky and piercing the lowest clouds.

Within two minutes of first seeing the island Sheryl could make out individual towers reaching for the sky, each at a different stage of construction. Cranes stretched to the tops of the buildings, hauling entire sections of the pre-built structures.

The pilot steered the transport to circle the island. It was a scene Sheryl had seen so many times before during contestant introduction specials, but it was different this time.

She was here.

Sheryl’s hands splayed against the glass of the window, eyes darting to take everything in at once. A breathless ‘wow’ escaped her lips.

The towers were arranged in a circle along the perimeter of the island, rising like a spiral staircase. The tallest tower, seemingly completed, was followed by one only awaiting a few cosmetic touches, then one needing one or two stories added. On the other side were the remains of the latest runs, crews picking through the debris and clearing the site for another build to start.

Just inside the ring of towers was a ring of smaller buildings, five per tower. Three appeared to be simulation towers, eight stories high. Sheryl decided that the others had to be support buildings for filming and other production aspects.

Sheryl tapped on the window as she counted twenty-six locations. Each pad was connected by a series of roads that spread like a spiderweb, with the nexus at a complex in the middle of the island. Dormitories, a hospital, training grounds, construction facilities and other buildings she couldn’t immediately place surrounded the gleaming production tower, which loomed over the island at a supposed fifty stories.

Beyond the core production needs a thriving town expanded further from the center. Houses for staff and crew dotted the landscape as they got closer and Sheryl could see breaks in the thick foliage.

The transport made one more circle as it approached the landing pad, and Sheryl saw children running down a street, backpacks indicating they’d just left school. Sunbathers reclined on a beach, while others took advantage of the shadow cast by one of the towers.

Sheryl felt wetness on her cheek, and stared as she wiped away a tear.

It’s beautiful. I wish you could see it Jonathan. You and the kids would love it.

The transport hovered, then settled down to the landing pad. The whir of the engines quieted to a hum, then silence.

Crews waited on the ground, ready to greet the new contestants and whisk them away to get them started.

Clay walked around on the landing pad, still in gray, talking to the director and a few staff from the island. Somebody said something and he turned on a smile as if it were on a switch. Sheryl could see the white of his teeth from the window. He walked back toward the transport, then accompanied Anthony Greene back out again, chatting amiably. The host made a few grand gestures, then escorted the contestant and his support team to a waiting cart.

Greene struck what looked like some sort of signature pose then climbed onto the cart.

Grayson loosened his tie as he turned back to the transport. Crews scurried behind him to restage the scene.

A group of people, some in military fatigues and uniforms, others in the casual gear of one who doesn’t care because they know they can kill at a glance arrived and mingled as they waited. A couple started a mock hand-to-hand challenge as others circled and cheered for their favorite.

The director strode out and broke up the fight, much to the annoyance of the two combatants, a woman who appeared about Sheryl’s own age, and a man several years younger.

The director moved out of sight again, then the group snapped to attention.

Clay Grayson wore the plum suit again, his fingers on Vivienne’s elbow as he led her to meet her combat training team. He introduced each in turn, and Vivienne was visibly awestruck and thrilled to be meeting the group in person.

“Fifteen minutes Mrs. Callaghan,” somebody said behind her. Sheryl merely nodded in acknowledgement.

Another cart arrived, and Vivienne climbed on. She stood on the rear seat and grabbed onto the roof, excited to see everything she could. The cart started off with her in that position and drove out of sight.

Clay turned back and was under the transport again when the cart returned, Vivienne waving excitedly. Sheryl laughed at the exuberance of her new friend.

Another vehicle arrived a moment later and a medical team climbed out. A modified cart with a wheelchair platform arrived.

The medical staff were almost the complete opposite of the combat trainers. They shielded the sun with hands, and seemed to get into brief but intense discussions as they waited. From the transport Sheryl counted five, two white men, one black man, one white woman and another woman who appeared to be of northern Asian heritage.

Dr. Lucero strode across the tarmac to briefly speak to his colleagues. Fingers danced in the air as the group took notes. After a minute they nodded and Sheryl’s doctor returned to the transport.

“It’s time.”

Sheryl turned to see Dr. Lucero standing there with a wheelchair. He helped her move into the chair, then guided her toward the exit.

“Your medical team is waiting. You have some of the best people on the planet overseeing your recovery.”

Sheryl nodded, but she wondered to herself how much leeway she had over her own care. She remembered the warnings, and realized that she had to ask.

“Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“How much say do I have over medications or procedures?”

“You can refuse or request any treatment unless it’s a matter of life or death. Why?”

Sheryl sighed slightly with relief. “I’d heard that the island is a location for medical testing. I’d rather stay away from anything that hasn’t been approved by the international pharmaceutical board.”

“That’s your choice, but it could mean a longer recovery.”

“You can suggest newer things, but I’d like the default for my care to be approved medication only.”

“I’ll make a note of that in your file, though some of the testing leads may be persistent if they feel that they have something that may be of particular help.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They’d reached the ramp. They waited until the director gave the cue, then Dr. Lucero wheeled Sheryl down to the tarmac below.

“Sheryl!” Clay Grayson called with forced enthusiasm. “Welcome to Dreams Island, where dreams come true. It’s an absolute paradise isn’t it?”

Sheryl forced a smile. “It’s beautiful Clay.”

A look of relief passed over his face, but was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. “You’ll get to train here until it’s time for your tower run. Just imagine running through those trees, breathing in the crisp ocean air, far from the pollution of the cities.”

“I can’t wait Clay.”

“Fantastic! Let’s meet your medical team. While Dr. Lucero is your primary physician during your stay on the island, these fine ladies and gentlemen will also be responsible for overseeing your care.”

They’d reached the line of doctors. Most of them appeared to be in their fifties and sixties, with mainly salt and pepper hair and moderate wrinkles.

“Dr. William Smith, internist,” the first said, offering a strong handshake. “My job is to make sure that all your internal injuries have properly healed.”

Sheryl nodded as Dr. Lucero pushed her to the next doctor.

“Dr. Margot Leroux.” She clasped both of Sheryl’s hands in her own and patted them in an almost grandmotherly style. “My specialty is medical nanomachines.”

The next doctor stepped forward and held out an ebony hand, his voice was rich with an accent. “Dr. Olawale Adebayo, medical director.”

“Dr. Li Chunhua,” the next woman, said. “I’ll be in charge of your physical therapy.”

“Dr. Adam Kennedy. I’m the head of psychological services.”

Once the medical team was finished with introductions Clay swept back in. “You’re in great hands Sheryl, the medical staff of Dreams Island is the best in the world. You’ll be fully recovered before you know it. Now, are you ready to tour the island?”

Sheryl tried and failed to fake enthusiasm before finally nodding. “Yes.”

“Fantastic! A guide is waiting and ready to take you around and let you get acquainted with your new surroundings.”

“Thank you.” Sheryl managed.

“My pleasure, and once more. Congratulations on your selection as a contestant!”

A moment of silence then the director called “cut.”

Clay patted Sheryl on the shoulder. “At least you’re trying kid. Don’t worry, soon you’ll be too busy to let anything keep you down.”

He walked away, calling for a stiff drink.

Vivienne ran over and draped herself over Sheryl. “Don’t let him get you down. Now, are you ready to tour the island with me?”

Sheryl smiled and nodded.

“Great!”

“One word,” Dr. Lucero said before he relinquished control of the chair to Vivienne, “to both of you. Make friends, like you’re already doing. But never forget where you are.”

Sheryl felt a pit form in her stomach at the gentle warning. It was a reminder that many of the people she would meet could be dead within a year.

“Now go enjoy the island,” he finished with a gentle smile. “Sheryl, we’ll get started on a comprehensive rehabilitation and training plan tomorrow since I know it’s already been a long day for you. You’ll get the tour now, then the required processing through legal. After that you’ll get settled into the medical wing. You’ll probably be there for a few days for evaluation since you’ve still not been awake long. Once it’s confirmed your injuries are healed you’ll be moved into the medical supervision housing. It’s not as stifling as a hospital setting, more like a care facility.”

Sheryl nodded.

Dr. Lucero moved aside and allowed Vivienne to take control of the wheelchair. The blonde maneuvered it expertly onto the modified cart, secured it, then took the spare seat.

“Ready ladies?” the driver asked.

“Ready!” Vivienne exclaimed.

The driver nodded, then set off. The landing pad was on one of the high points of the island, and he headed down the road that led to a beach first.

“My name is Stephen, and I’ll be telling you about Dreams Island today,” he started. “First, you’ll quickly learn that it’s truly an island paradise. There are beaches around two-thirds of the island, and rocky cliffs perfect for climbing on the rest. The interior is either forested or developed, and you’ll find plenty of trails for walking or hiking.”

The road turned to overlook a sandy beach.

“The island is home to approximately thirty thousand regular residents, most of them production staff and their families. At any time there are usually another three thousand guests, temporary employees or contestants. Almost every element of the show is handled here on the island, from construction, training and filming, to marketing, social media, and even things such as bookie certification. There are support offices in New York, London, Cape Town, Tokyo, Dubai, and Rio de Janeiro, but they all have minimal staff and exist solely for handling matters that cannot wait for a representative from the island.”

The road turned away from the beach and was soon shadowed by towering trees.

“Beyond the core training facility there is the town. While Tower Productions owns the land, it leases buildings to families of employees to run businesses not covered by core production needs. You’ll find it a very diverse place with restaurants featuring cuisine from around the world, boutiques filled with handcrafted goods, and shops that cater to almost every whim. You can use your contestant budget at all the shops.”

“When I called for a pre-departure need it seemed that the offset fee was fairly steep,” Sheryl said. “How fast would I run though the budget?”

Stephen laughed. “Well most contestants get sponsorships. Fewer take employed positions, but there are always a few paid jobs around for contestants who can handle the cut into their training.”

“Really?” Vivienne asked. “Like what?”

“Mostly odd jobs like runners that don’t require much training. Hold on…” He paused, then a moment later. “Ms. Dubois, I’ve been informed of an employment opportunity that might interest you in particular. Apparently the person who teaches the history of The Tower to contestants is expected to take maternity leave starting next month. Given your background you would be an ideal replacement, and your run could be postponed until her return.”

“Won’t that interfere with training?”

“You’d set your own schedule. It’s a recommended class for contestants, but not required. You’d also have that much longer to train.”

Vivienne nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

Stephen nodded. “I’ll have staff send you details.”

“Mrs. Callaghan, I’ve also been informed that they’ll need a new runner in the production tower in the next week or so, once a contestant makes their run. They have motorized carts so you wouldn’t need to worry about waiting until after rehabilitation.”

“I’ll look at any details,” Sheryl said.

Stephen nodded again. “You’ll both have access to the information as well as the communication grid after processing through legal.”

The cart turned a corner to look at a large and very noisy building.

“This is one of five construction facilities,” Stephen said. “All tower interiors are constructed with modular blocks. This allows crews to furnish floors and speeds the process. A tower takes twenty weeks to build.”

“I’ve heard they’re constructed of almost completely recycled materials,” Vivienne said excitedly. “Is that true?”

Stephen laughed and nodded. “Yes, as much of each tower as possible is made using an easily reclaimed polymer. This reduces the need for raw materials to be harvested or brought in. One of the biggest jobs of reclamation crews after a tower is demolished is to remove anything that can’t be immediately recycled into another tower.”

“So, just structure?” Sheryl ventured.

“Oh no,” he laughed. “Though you’d never know it. They can make it feel and break like brittle wood, reflect like glass, and as tough as hardened steel. About the only things that aren’t made from it are the food and water items, and sponsor prizes.”

Sheryl blinked several times, then noticed a large truck overflowing with debris pulling into the construction yard. “So that’s?”

“From one of the recent towers,” Stephen confirmed. “They don’t even need to do anything except put it back into the printer. It breaks it down and reprints the new components at the same time.”

“That’s incredible!” Vivienne squealed.

“It’s proprietary technology, though there are a few companies in North America looking to acquire it.”

Stephen started the cart again and continued on their tour. The road took them past several towers in progress. “Each tower has its own pad with three simulation towers, housing for the contestant and their support team for the final week before a run, and the production building which holds all the communication equipment and is the primary nerve center for the run.”

He turned the cart at the next intersection toward the interior of the island. “You’ll be able to freely leave the island one weekend a month, additional trips off island can be purchased from your budget. New Zealand and Fiji are popular destinations due to proximity. You can go anywhere in the world, but if it’s not a frequent location an additional fee will be charged. Trips longer than two days must be approved by your advocate and a member of production staff.”

Buildings started coming closer together as they approached the town that surrounded the production core. Kids waved, and Vivienne excitedly waved back. Sheryl smiled at the enthusiasm.

“Education on the island is some of the best in the world. Our classrooms are small, and we boast a graduation rate nearing one-hundred percent. Almost every student chooses to go to college, and many become leaders in their field.”

The town was quaint with brightly painted buildings, open storefronts and wide awnings. Then the ambiance changed. The road widened and buildings were larger.

“Indoor shooting ranges, pools and so many mazes you’ll be sick of them,” Stephen said, gesturing to a cluster of buildings. He then pointed the other way. “Over there are dormitories, and contestant housing. Behind are the gyms and physical training facilities.”

He drove past a hospital. “Medical facilities. There are three wings, entry and long term, emergency and short term, and pre-run evaluation and preventative care. This is the only medical facility on the island so you’ll see employees and residents as well as contestants.”

Stephen steered the cart to a wide circular drive, and Sheryl’s eyes were drawn up to take in the enormity of the production tower. “Here we are ladies, the heart of the most popular show in the world. Staff will escort you to legal once you’re inside. I may or may not be your driver to the hospital and dormitories after, so have a pleasant afternoon, and welcome to Dreams Island.”

Vivienne steered Sheryl off the cart and into the gleaming lobby. Large windows took advantage of the natural light and made the space feel even larger than it was. Employees walked every which way across the shining floor.

“Ms. Dubois, Mrs. Callaghan,” a young woman just inside the entrance said. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to legal for processing.”

A few minutes later they exited the elevator on the twentieth floor. The clean and glossy look continued as they entered the waiting area of the legal department. They were lead to different offices, and by the time they reemerged several hours later Sheryl was truly exhausted. She’d had to sign forms consenting to being filmed, consenting to treatment, consenting to emergency treatment. Other forms were standard liability that the production company would not be held responsible in case of injury or death. One stated that she understood her life was at real risk and she could die as a contestant.

Eventually the names on the forms blurred together, even as the lawyer refused to allow her to skim. Finally they reached the final form, and Sheryl signed it with a sigh of relief. Her only question throughout hours of signing had been about the communication monitoring that had been on one of the forms.

It was explained that communications were monitored to prevent corporate espionage, and for potential airing. A program would be added to her implants to allow it the following day. Sheryl signed it, too exhausted to care.

A few minutes later she joined Vivienne again. They received connection info so that they could connect to the global net, given appointment times for software installation, then taken to their assigned quarters. Vivienne waved from the step of the dormitory as Sheryl was driven to the hospital.

A few minutes after arrival Sheryl was helped into a bed, and she fell asleep almost immediately.