A holographic security guard appears. ‘Good evening, Ms. Rodriguez. You may enter the facility when ready.’

Warning lights illuminate the forward steel bulkhead. The impregnable vault door swings open, allowing them entry into a long, brightly lit tunnel.

Sam follows his mother through the naked corridor, registering the change in air pressure as the vault door is sealed from behind. ‘Okay, Ma, what’s this all about? Where the hell are you taking me?’

‘Shh. Save your questions until we’re inside.’

‘Inside? You mean this isn’t inside? What is this place?’

‘Be quiet and be patient.’

They follow the soundproof concrete and drywall passage to a set of steel double doors. The door seal parts as they approach and they enter a sterile white chamber, the walls circular, the ceiling domed. There are no windows or doors.

A hologram of an East-Asian secretary appears in the center of the room.

‘Good evening, Mrs. Gabriel. Please proceed to Habitat-2. Dr. Mohr will meet you there.’

‘Thank you, Rameeka.’

The camouflage of white wall disappears, revealing a steel door and keypad. Dominique presses her palm to the scanner.

Another passage opens before them. Dominique turns to her son. ‘Deeper into the rabbit hole, eh, Manny?’

‘Cute.’

They exit the holographic security chamber and enter a tight corridor, the rounded walls and ceiling composed of clear Luxon glass, a new diamond-based polycarbonate.

‘I feel like a goddam hamster. Whoa—’ Sam rounds the corner and stops, the floor below having dropped away beneath the glass.

They are six storeys above the ground floor of a subterranean hangar. A slow-moving hover-lift glides below, its enormous flatbed transporting an intricate piece of equipment, possibly a rocket engine subassembly. Ahead, a pair of Statue of Liberty-sized 150-foot-high double doors begin to part.

Sam presses his face against the thick glass to see better.

Dominique grabs his arm. ‘Come on, we’ll be late.’

‘Wait, I want to see what’s inside.’

‘Later. Dr. Mohr’s waiting.’

The glass corridor bends to the left, another door up ahead. ‘So who’s this Dr. Mohr?’

‘The director of GOLDEN FLEECE.’

The corridor door opens. To Sam’s surprise, they are standing in a pleasant foyer—more ski lodge than space center. Teak wood lines the walls and floor. The ceiling, stretching six stories above their heads, ends in a tinted glass dome. Plush furniture in shades of violet and purples surround a control station.

Seated behind the rounded console is the East-Asian woman who had appeared in the last hologram, only this time in the flesh.

The woman stares at Sam as if seeing a ghost. ‘Remarkable …’

‘Rameeka Ellepola, this is my son.’

The dark-eyed, brown-skinned Sri Lankan stands, extending her hand. ‘This is such an incredible honor.’

He shakes her hand. ‘Guess you’re a big football fan, huh?’

‘Football?’ She shoots Dominique a quizzical look.

‘I’ll explain later,’ Dominique says. ‘Where’s Dr. Mohr?’