Ken stared at the colors of the sky. Some snake-oil peddler in marketing had thought that a new sky would attract more people to the project, but looking at the whorl of green and purple above him always just reminded him of the darkness just beyond. By now, he barely remembered what the old sky looked like. "I think the thing I miss the most is clouds. The fog in here just isn't the same." Nobody heard. A lump of trash blew by. There was supposed to be a state-of-the-art automatic cleaning system, but few enough people had been interested in the project that there were no maintenance workers. Eventually, the cleaning robots became part of the trash they had been built to collect.
A chime sounded, and a soft, female voice—paradoxically, much deeper than his own—resounded through the dome: "Attention, residents. Attention, residents. A new convoy of staff has been sent in. Please welcome them, and extend appropriate courtesy." Nothing like that had happened in years; before communications got locked down, Ken and the others had been pretty vocal about how unpleasant the working and living conditions were. Headhunters had scraped a few more groups together in spite of this, but the new people had simply added their voices to the chorus. Over the years, the flow had petered out. Some had left, while others, like Ken, had no idea what kind of life was left for them in their former homes. By the time he worked up the courage to request a transfer out, he was informed that it would be impossible. Well, for now, there was nothing to do but his daily rounds.
The layout of Frontier never got any easier to navigate. Most of the city's subsystems never needed any maintenance, and chugged merrily along, never ceasing despite the lack of input. The streets were modular, and frequently moved on their own, according to some strange priorities that nobody had ever been able to account for. The wide thoroughfare he had been strolling down, for instance, abruptly took a sharp right into a dead end. It didn't pay to get to attached to anything you couldn't carry with you at all times; more than once, Ken's home had run away while he was out.
Ken was a security officer; so long as he had a patrol, he got money in his account. Once, years ago, he'd been too drunk to patrol.
"We're sorry, but this is a dereliction of duty, and we will take disciplinary action."
"How do you even know I wasn't on patrol?"
"Surveillance footage."
"If you've got cameras everywhere, why do you need me?"
"We don't have cameras everywhere. We just have cameras near you."
"So you watch the watchmen. Whose job is that? Some voyeuristic temp?"
"If you must know, it's Neural Net 38's job. And now that I'm done giving you information that you'll never need, I'm off to dock your pay properly for all this."
Later that day, he had realized he only kept his job because firing him would be too expensive. In the end, it was good money, if nothing else.
A klaxon sounded. Ken stopped walking, and stared up at the sky. The analog projection at the center indicated that several hours had passed since the announcement. Unbelievable. Even in this maze, he could get used to his route. He angled left; the port was somewhere in that direction, last he saw, and the new crew needed someone to welcome them. It was easy enough to get there; just vault the counter at the abandoned bar, go several blocks north in the basement passages, emerge from the supply closet in what was meant to be a daycare (that bit never stopped being weird) and the port was in sight.
Various lights flashed. Somewhere, far away from here, the panels that would label those lights were bolted to the wall by the internal remodeling system. After a tremendous grinding whir, the airlock shuddered open, dislodging years' worth of dust. As the dust settled, a single figure became visible. "Just one woman?"
She stepped forward unsteadly. As she cleared the airlock, it ground shut once more.
"Miss? Are you okay?"
She giggled. "Everything sounds so... so funny." She began to sway.
"Miss?" Ken rushed forward to support her. "You might be reacting badly to the change in pressure. But if you can answer, I've got so many questions. Why were you the only one on the sub? Who are you? Why come here?"
"Um... I think... that thing you said about pressure... I don't think I can answer any questions right now." She collapsed completely onto his shoulder. Ken sighed, and hefted her to the nearest apartment building. As security personnel, he had access to all the rooms in various kinds of buildings, so he could at least get her, whoever she was, to a bed.
Elaine groaned, and forced her eyes open. White walls, coated in dust, swam into focus. An unfamiliar room... She levered herself up, and looked around more. The room looked like any other apartment. A man sat in a chair at the other end of the room. He had sandy-blond hair, and a full beard. The next thing she noticed was the baton at his waist. Her eyes widened.
Ken, seeing that she was awake, rushed over. "Are you feeling any better?"
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