"...this bodes some strange eruption to our state."
[Hamlet Act 1, Scene 1]

"Hey-"

Pause.

"Hey! Psst!"

No answer.

"You there?"

A scuffling sound.

"Who's there?" called Timo Okapi, the tall night-guard for the Fifth Complex B.
"Dude, it's me!"
"Wang! That you?"
"Of course – who could it be? Aiya! You're jumpier than my NaiNai before Tomb-Sweeping Festival!" Emerging from a side hall janitor's closet, the shorter, darker-haired Asian brushed off his black-clad shoulders, making sure his clean-cut uniform was as spotless as usual. "Just making certain all the breakers are aligned for the evening."
"I thought you'd be here earlier – and when you didn't show-"
"Well, I'm here now."

XianDao Wang, second night-guard for the Fifth Complex B, shook his head at the sight of Timo looking about nervously. He understood. He really did – but sometimes Timo was just too theatrical for his own good. This place, he thought, letting his long-range torchlight skitter about the empty corridor in the middle of which the two guards stood, this place does mess with you, if you aren't careful. A man starts seeing things... one thing leads to another and you end up paying for several good rounds of shot in the nice expensive projection panels – or you're fired, worst case scenario and end up on Titan, freezing your ass off syphoning liqmeth for the rest of your rotten existence. Pass.

"Great, great," Timo nodded, relaxing about as the two men made their way to the nearest guard station (a good fifteen minute walk). "It's been a long one this evening."
"Been quiet?"
"More or less. Some flickering. Nothing much more than that – but it's been increasing..."

Here, Timo glanced apprehensively upward as though the both of them could see what was no doubt passing over their heads – the usual radiation flares which whipped out from the sun at alarming speeds. Yet, although often well-predicted by scientists watching from their cozy armchairs on Earth, the flares' devastating effects on the colonies spread throughout Mars, the Belt and beyond could still be felt, since no perfect solution had yet been attained for complete coverage.

"Hm," Wang nodded placidly. Nothing could be solved, he thought, by worrying over the inevitable. "Well, if you see Klif and Linus about let them know I'm over here."

At this opportune moment, Timo's short-wave crackled to life and the loud tones of Linus echoed throughout the silent, grey-white passage the two men moved down.

"You out there, Timo? Over."
"Timo here," Timo replied shortly, "and Wang."
"Good. Good. We're at Junction Three," Linus replied in unspoken invitation.
"ETA in five."
"See you then."

Silence, then, Wang said conversationally, "How're the kids?"
"Good, good. The usual. Jama wants to go to Mars... but I was thinking the Klyppa Institute or the Sonarium would be better for his studies, if he really wants to go into engineering." Timo shook his head. "Kids these days."
"Mars is understandable," Wang shrugged. "It's the closest they can feel to being on Earth, you know. Nothing like having solid ground beneath your feet."
"I guess." Timo didn't sound convinced, however.

Which is also understandable, Wang shook his head, having never been Earth-side before. Probably never made it to Mars either. One of the prouder third-gen colonials then. Second-genners... Third-genners... so intent on proving the success of their existence. Wang found himself chuckling a little.

"What?" Timo asked curiously.
"Nothing," Wang flapped a hand. "Ah. Here we go."

Junction Three was the one of five large circular intersections with four corridors branching off – and in the middle, Klif and Linus waited. At the sound of their approach, broad bands of light lit up the Junction from their own hand-held torches.

"Aha! The cavalry has arrived!" Linus greeted the two men jovially. Linus McPherson, a Second-Genner from Scotland, held the cheery optimism of the world from which his father hailed and the forward-thinking of the Martian South Colony in which he had been raised. A great man, if a little too exuberant for late night duty in the complex. "We thought you'd died or fallen out of a hatch or something."
"Don't joke," Klif shook his head mournfully. "That happened once."
"Seriously?" Linus asked.
"Really?" Timo's dark eyebrows rose a little.
"Yeah, yeah," Klif shrugged with the carelessness of youth and the pragmatism of a Sixth-Genner. "Well, it happens. You get a glitch, you hear the odd 'pop' and – bam – you've got no purchase on anything and you're out the door and evac'd before you can say 'hell'. Haha."
"Wow," Linus looked about just a tad bit more cautiously. "That's something to keep an eye out for, then."
"You'll figure it out in time," Wang said. "Just don't freak out about noises you think you hear, batten down the breakers when it's flare time and make sure your port-batts are topped up on all times and you're good to go."
"No truer word," Klif said. "So, you're off, Timo?"
"Yeah," Timo nodded, with a smile, his brilliant white teeth flashing in the semi-darkness and the darker colour of his skin. "Got Amaya waiting and Jama is probably up playing with those holo-vids of his again..."
"You go beat some sense into him then, haha!" Linus laughed – and the three men bid Timo goodnight and turned away to head down the main corridor together.
"So, you're pulling overtime, huh?" Wang asked Klif as the three stopped and under Klif's careful eye, Linus double-checked the breaker readings and made sure several of the dials were properly aligned before moving onward.
"Yeah, well, I volunteered," Klif shrugged. "Fifth Complex B is kinda old-school, you know. I mean, not as ghetto as the First Complex or anything like that – but it's got its own little special issues, as you know."
"Ai, yes," Wang sighed. "You could say that. The wireless electrical power is always a little off-on and the constant switching to back-up doesn't make for easy transition if a 'gram is running. The techs said they'd fix it one of these days but what with the boss up and kicking the can-"
"The bucket," Linus said absently, as he stopped by another power box and completed the readings check on it as well.
"What?"
"It's kicking the bucket. Kicking the can is a-"
"Can it," Klif blew a raspberry at Linus and moved on. An erudite child and a genius, they said – with a head for tech and a sure route to the Sonarium, but with little money to back him, he would have to rely on his own savings from guard duty at Illustrions, as they liked to call it. "It's something to watch out for, the electrical failures. It begins with mild dimming - "brown outs" - and then there's the flickering and then a short darkness – and the emergency back-up kicks in pretty nicely, but just that nanosecond of nothing can do a lot to the memory dumps of the 'grams... and then you get glitches and then you get things like ghostings and faulty airlocks – and then," here his grin grew more shark-like, "and then you get evac'd sailors and guards and other idiots who don't know better, and then you get population thinning... and then-"
"This could go on forever," Wang laughed then. "Most of it's harmless. It doesn't happen as often as you think. Only when its flare time, really. Overloaded rad panels and ancient breakers don't make for a good combo. That's all."
"In a nutshell, yes," grumbled Klif. "Oversimplification is a bitch."
"It works."
"So... ghostings..." Linus said with a smile, looking about for the next box. "You hear about the ghost the other day?"
"The one Volka and Hayashi said they saw?" Klif snorted and rolled his eyes. "Girls."
"Volka is a dude," Wang raised an eyebrow.
"Might as well be a girl," Klif grumbled. "He's cracking. He's so out the door, is that one. First-Genners. Useless lot."
"Heh. Well, we all have to start somewhere – OW! Light! Light in the eyes!"

Klif lowered his torch and gave the rapidly blinking Linus a dirty look.

"Can't believe that shit just came out of your mouth. It's there."
"Waiting for the spots to disappear," Linus flapped a hand and scrunched up his face.

Wang sighed and, taking the reader from Linus's unresisting hand, began the process himself.

"It's a weird one, they said," Linus said, still blinking rapidly. "Like – not a usual one."
"That's what they all say," Klif smirked.
"No, no," Wang shook his head, leaning back and snapping the glass casing door shut. "I saw it too, Klif."
"We both did," Linus admitted. "I saw it with Timo. Scared the shit outta him, gotta say. Poor guy. Another bundle of nerves."
"He's a softie," Klif agreed. "So you guys saw it, huh?"
"Yeah," Wang gave the young teen a look, "and that's why you're out here tonight, isn't it? You're here to check it out."
"Well..."
"I asked him to," Linus shrugged and then laughed, scratching his red curls sheepishly. "He got into Hayashi's face in the lunchroom the other day – which isn't really playing fair."
"Sexist."
"And," Linus continued, ignoring Klif, "I thought it would be great if he checked it out – and used his genius skills to find out what kind of ghosting it was."
"Well, it's a strange one," Wang eyed Klif. "Looks like the Old Boss."
"The Old Man?"
"The Old Boss. Mr. Cardo-Branson."
"As in Kevin "Richie" Cardo-Branson?" Klif asked disbelievingly.
"Yes. Of course, what other Old Boss do you think I'm talking about?"
"Well, there's Claude. He's... you know... old." Klif wrinkled his nose as he turned the corner and led the men down the passageway to the parallel corridor with the ease of long familiarity. "Still, I guess they all look old after a time."
"Brat," Wang said, but he still smiled. "Seriously though, no one actually thinks that Old Man Claude is going to hold on for long – right? I mean, Hamish will step in?"
"It's Hanmu right now."
"What?" Linus asked confused.
"Hanmu."
"Hanmu who?"
"Hamish," Klif stopped and gave Linus a warning look which promised more intimate time with the flare of his torch. "Hamish, our real boss. Claude's just keeping the seat warm until Hanmu takes over."
"Wait a second, Mr. Hamish is calling himself Hanmu?"
"Yeah – it's a thing."
"A thing?" asked Linus, even more confused.
"He goes through those a lot," explained Wang with a sigh. "Like the literature phase, when he wrote that novel about space dung beetles."
"It was a metaphor for death and shitty existence," Klif explained. "Very litfic and of course everyone had to say it was brilliant because they didn't know what it was about really and I'm not sure if Hanmu knew either since he was kinda high on something related to dung beetles no doubt when he wrote it but you know – that's university life for you."
"I thought he had graduated."
"He did," Wang agreed cheerfully, "but then he went back for more. That's our Hamish – I mean, Hanmu." A pause, then Wang added in a pained voice. "Really? Hanmu? You aren't pulling my arm or something."
"Pulling your leg," corrected Linus.
"I'm not pulling anything," Klif said waspishly. "Ask him yourself the next time you see him."
"Arrogant bastard," Wang sniffed, knowing that Klif was rubbing in his friend-status with Hamish Cardo-Branson, AKA the Real Boss. "Well, it's better than the last time."
"You don't wanna know," Klif laughed then.
"Traveler."
"What?"
"Traveler. That was his name. Said he wasn't a girl or boy. Wore skirts and put on makeup and shit," Klif laughed again then. "He was pretty... pretty. Like those types you know – rather androgyn, and can do all that just fine and not look gay-gay."
"Wow, that's so offensive on many levels," Linus snorted. "Where do I start?"
"Not meant to be – 's a fact," Klif peered down a corridor and then made his way further down, finding the next box. "He was Traveler – a child of no man and happy to embrace nothing. That was around the time of the dung beetles in fact, now that I come to think of it. Lots of hubbly-bubbly and other stuff. Haha. Drove the Old Boss bonkers – and his Mum, of course."
"Of course," Linus echoed. "How... odd. He seemed so... normal the other day I saw him. Granted it was from a distance-"
"No, he's back to normal," Wang shook his head, "whatever normal means these days for him. Hanmu indeed."
"He's into history now, that's all. Focusing on the Orient, he said. Earth History."
"What use is that?" asked Linus.
"None at all and yet so much – is what he'd say," laughed Klif. "Come, that's it, I think. We'll sit here," the younger man gestured at an alcove with several benches. "If the readings were correct earlier, we should have a nice flare time coming up in a bit and then we'll see what we'll see."
"This is the place?"
"Junction Two Point Five, Corridor Three, Access Point Seven. Yep, I'm sure."
"Aiii..." Wang sat back with a sigh and looked over at Linus. "Let's hope it shows."
"It should," Linus said. "Tell Klif about that time-" He paused as the dim lights dimmed further. "I guess it's starting – tell him, Wang, about that time we saw it."
"Yes, do tell," Klif said. "Was it fully opaque or translucent."
"Hm. Depends on the strength, you know. The first time I saw it – it was barely there – translucent really – weak signal, I suppose. Just a slight blip. But the second time," Wang gave a short rattled sigh, "it was a bit of a shock, even for me to see the Old Boss there. I mean... life-like as any well-energized ghosting. Like it just walked off a holo-deck, you know. If it had a carrier, then... Well..."
"But it didn't?"
"No. It passed into the wall. It hadn't formed on a skeleton."
"Small mercies. I hate it when the glitches go all ape," Klif murmured.
"And that was when you were with me, wasn't it?" Wang turned to Linus who nodded solemnly.

The lights flickered as if on cue and the three guards looked up apprehensively before glancing at each other.

"Gets to me every time," Linus winced after a moments silence. "It's like those stories Gramps would talk about fishing in the north and huddling round 'bout the fires and then hearing some kind of ghost story or something like that-"
"Earth people," Klif snorted.
"If you haven't been, don't say anything until you get there..." Wang shuddered. "The open spaces get to you... Central Park the first time... was absolute hell."
"Don't visit Canada then," Linus suggested. "It's even worse – emptier, quieter and – oh shit – look!"

It was the ghosting.

"...the Main Asteroid Belt, also known as "the Belt", so named for it's relative thing diameter, lies between Mars and Jupiter - the graveyard of planets which had failed to form. Ranging in size from small boulders to larger objects, which are hundreds of miles wide, the Belt's asteroids are the source of many metals, such as nickel and iron..."
- an excerpt from Our Solar System: A Child's Primer by Meredith K. Turnbull (2350)

"...Ceres, once considered an asteroid and then later designated as a dwarf planet, is currently the playground of AsiaCore, the international satellite company formed out of the historic merger between Huawei, Samsung and Sumitomo, although it boasts headquarters for other European, Indian and North American companies..."
- an excerpt from "Ceres: Size Matters Not", L.A. Times by Tian Zhangping (2401)

"...some believe comets may have been ejected from or die out in the Main Asteroid Belt, which makes for a volatile environment..."
- an excerpt from Colonizing the Main Asteroid Belt: A Proprosition, Colonize Unicorp (2109)

"...holding over 200 asteroids larger than 60 miles, over 750,000 asteroids larger than three-fifths of a mile and countless smaller ones..."
- an excerpt from Asteroids and Comets 101 by Aghri Ahmellah (2396)

"...other asteroids from the Kuiper Belt may be tugged in slowly by remotely controlled rockets and if driven with precision may avoid the lethal gravity wells of the outer planets and thereby may add to a greater variety of housing as well as offering limitless resources in metal ores..."
- an excerpt from Colonizing the Main Asteroid Belt: A Practical Application, Colonize Unicorp (2906)

"...known as the Belt, with a diffuse community thanks to the mining operations, terra-forming labs, other scientific operations and media corporations. While three-quarters of the community consider themselves to be temporary white-collar workers or longer-term colonists, the Belt is considered to be an area of great social flux due to the high pressure environment, consistent turnover rate and Rate of Risk..."
- an excerpt from "Coming Off The Belt: My Journey Finally Ended", BBC by Simone Shimolan

"... and the moist star
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands
Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse:
And even the like precurse of fierce events,
As harbingers preceding still the fates
And prologue to the omen coming on,
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated
Unto our climatures and countrymen."
[Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 1]

Old Boss, Kevin Richard "Richie" Cardo-Branson, late husband of Zara Blotzvnik, late father of Hamish Keven "Hanmu"/"Traveler"/"Zero" Cardo-Branson, had been in life an imposing man. In death, laid in his ornamental coffin before cremation, Old Boss Richie had somehow looked just as magisterial – as if he was about to leap out of the faux-wood, heavily-carved, highly ornamental casket and start barking orders at this subordinates. Tall, broad-shouldered and well-set, Old Boss Richie cut a stylish figure in the news as he went about his daily business of running the well-known holo-entertainment empire west of Mars – Illustrions, as the common workers called it. His dirty blonde hair, virile beard and sharp-features gave the old man the fierceness of a hawk, which, combined with piercing blue eyes, made him a force to be reckoned with in the boardroom.

That was then. This was now – and before them, as if he had just left the boardroom in a huff because Claude was up to his old nonsense, because Niels-Ford had just merged with another small competitor, because his faithful, yet annoying, CEO, Andrew Pritchard, had nixed yet another of his brainchild as impractical.

There he stood before the three transfixed guards - Old Boss, Kevin Richard "Richie" Cardo-Branson, late husband of Zara Blotzvnik, late father of Hamish Keven "Hanmu"/"Traveler"/"Zero" Cardo-Branson and private owner of Illustrious Illusions Limited.

"It's him! Old Boss!"
"Holy shit," Klif said, irreverently. "I'm a believer."
"Told you so," Linus said triumphantly. "Well. Scan it! You know what to do!"
"It does look quite a bit like him. Think it's a random recording?" Wang asked.
"Shush," Klif mumbled. "Trying to figure it out – the coding is all jumbled, dammit."

Jerking out his personal datapad, Klif's fingers began to fly over the now unfolded tablet as he began to work on the scans.

"So a glitch then-"
"Dunno..."
"What's it doing?" asked Linus as the ghosting turned his head left and then right, eyes flickering up and then down.
"I don't know," Wang said. "Looking at us? It's not... it's not sentient, is it?"
"Well, the coding is complex enough for basic functioning – scanning no doubt."
"And there it goes-" Linus added.
"Thanks for the commentary," Klif sighed, snapping his tablet shut as the coding faded from his scanners – as the ghosting drifted into the nearby wall and disappeared from sight. "It's gone for now-"
"You can't track it?"
"Hardly. Everything is a mess inside the holodecks – you know that. Everyone knows that. It's like... looking for a toothpick in a pile of toothpicks. Except the toothpick you are looking for is different on a quantum scale and-"
"Never mind I asked," Linus rolled his eyes.
"Well, that's that," Wang sat back down. "Might come again though, if the flare time is bad."
"Yeah, I'll wait and see. Not like there's anything else to check," Klif nodded. "Linus and I covered the west side and Timo covered the east."
"You made him do the east on his own? Cold," Wang chuckled.
"Someone has to go with Linus," Klif pointed out mildly. "I've got seniority."
"Unbelievable, huh."
"No kidding," Wang agreed with Linus.

For a moment, there was silence as Wang and Linus laid back on the long benches and Klif sat on the floor to tap further information into his tablet as he reanalyzed the small amount of data he had been able to collect.

"Pretty creepy wasn't it?" Linus said after a moment. "I never met the guy, but he looked just like the pictures in the tabloids."
"Yeah," Wang agreed. "Creepy."
"You don't believe in that, do you?" asked Klif absently.
"Believe in what?"
"The ancestor thing. That QingMing thing you guys celebrate over on Mars."
"QingMing Jie, and no, not really."
"But you still burn the money and stuff."
"Not usually," Wang admitted, "but maybe this year..." He thought of the silent figure of the Old Boss. "Maybe this year."

More silence.

"Well, it's not from the Archives, that I can say," Klif said after a moment. "The coding is all wrong."
"Maybe he had a private journal," Linus said. "I know that the President had one. Full holo-recording – for posterity, he said. The dick."
"Yeah, maybe," Klif said, "that would explain it – but not how he ended up in the main server."
"Whatever happened," Wang turned to look at the younger man, "it's been quite regular – showing up here quite a few times now."
"Something's in the server~" Klif chanted in a sing-song voice, as he scrolled through a moving 3D graph now projecting above his tablet. "Something's in the server~ But how did it get there..."
"And another thing," Linus said, "off topic, I know, but like... you know Ham-Hanmu and all, Klif, what's up with the increased security these days? And they put the First and Second Complexes off-line temporarily. What's up with that?"
"Hmmm..." Klif scratched his floppy black hair and scrubbed his nose thoughtfully. "Can't say, really – but I think it's those Niels-Ford idiots. Corporate spying and crap like that. You know how nervy the Old Man Claude gets about competition he can't handle. The corporate piracy – the kerfuffle over Shoulong... and the fact that Niels-Ford has begun to expand into the Belt. Well. Yeah. I mean, sure the Cardo-Branson holdings remain strongly entrenched and stuff – but I mean... new competition always means tightening the belt and upping security and upgrading stuff that was put on hold for ages... typical aggressive expansionist tactics for a naturally passive-aggressive leadership."
"Passive-aggressive?" Wang asked skeptically.
"Claude isn't Kevin," Klif pointed out with his typical airy irreverence. "He's right. And Pritchard isn't helping things either."
"Neither is, er, Hanmu," Linus had to add perversely. "Hanging round about Mars and not paying attention to young Uilleam Niels-Ford – who led that whole Shoulong affair..."
"Kevin spanked him and sent him crying back to Daddy Starbucks," Klif snorted. "I'm sure Hamish can deal with him. 'Sides, I think they're kinda old school buddies from way back when Hamish was taking electronics engineering."
"Yes, sure friends back when they can get drunk and lay some girls, but this is corporate life now," Linus shook his head. "Friendship goes cheap for stuff like that."
"Do you even know what leaves your mouth?" Klif asked. "People can't help but like Hanmu. He's that type. Still, I can see how people would lose faith in an entertainment company that doesn't look like it's going to have a strong hand at the helm. Claude stepping in with Zara was smart – but it's only short-term."
"Hanmu needs to get a grip, big time," Wang said.
"He will," Klif said mildly. "He just needs time."
"He's over thirty! How much more effing time does he need?" Linus asked. "No wonder things are going to shit around here... Signs of the times. With this ghosting going about. It's like Colony Mark Two. You remember that – a colony wiped out just cause they didn't get the right kind of plastic."
"I heard the flare time was bad back then as well-"
"Between the flare times and badly constructed domes and little to no magnetic shielding, I'm surprised they didn't cook sooner than they did," Klif chuckled. "How did they go in the end? Cyanide?"
"Cold, kiddo, you're real cold," Linus shook his head.
"Really? That's all you gotta say? You're equating Illustrions to Colony Mark Two, which is you know, totally overstating the whole thing. Things aren't the best, but Hanmu'll get things going..." Klif shrugged, "Ah, he's back now."
"Yeah – for how long-"
"I mean, he's back now – the Old Boss-"
"HOLY SHIT!" Linus leaped up. "Why didn't you tell us? He could've, you know, passed over me or something..."
"You wouldn't feel it. Much," Klif replied calmly. "Anyways, don't wimp out – go see if you can get it to interact or something. I need to scan the coding again."
"Yeah, let us do all the hard work," joked Wang and he pulled Linus forward with him before leaning forward to peer at the ghosting.

It looked so real this time – as if his boss was actually standing there before them, dressed in his usual traditional black suit, dark red tie, pen no doubt inside the jacket pocket above his right breast – dark reading glasses firmly set on his nose. The ghosting flickered for a moment. Almost as if he was standing there. He is not, Wang reminded himself firmly.

"Hey, boss," Wang began, feeling a little odd. "How, uh, goes it?"
"Say something like 'control command line d colon forward-slash forward-slash pww dot main server dot illus'."
"What?" Linus blinked.
"Control command line d colon forward-slash forward-slash pww dot main server dot illus," repeated Klif now definitely annoyed as his fingers flew over the tablet. Yet, his eyes were now fixed unswervingly on the ghosting.
"No, no, I get it," Wang nodded. "OK. Here goes. Control command line d colon forward-slash forward-slash pww dot main server dot illus."

The ghost flickered again, a hand moved up to remove the glasses and just as before, the eyes rose up and down and back and forth in some kind of pre-programmed movement. Reassuring, yet unnerving to see. It is nothing, Wang thought, and yet it is everything.

"Old Boss Richie?" Linus tried. "You in there? Command control."
"What – what are you doing?" Klif burst out.
"Command control line-"
"Don't just say stuff, moron!"
"Kevin Richard Cardo-Branson," Wang said.

The ghost turned then, again and this time, something passed over its face. A frown.

"New code! New code!" Klif was whispering in hushed excitement. "What – what did you do, Wang? Just say his name?"
"Yeah..." Wang's alarm beeped and he slapped it absently – but at the far away bell resounding through the complex, the ghost drew back.
"It's going," Klif typed faster (if possible), as the ghost headed, as it had before, into the wall and back to the safe anonymity of the holodeck coding. "That was... exciting."
"You need a new definition of exciting, man," Linus sat down and watched the dark head of the genius as the young man continued to analyze the code. "That was strange though."
"It reacted to its name," Wang pointed out, "and I think the alarm scared it off."
"It's been programmed, that much is certain," Klif agreed. "The coding is complicated, looking almost jumbled, but I think it's just some heavy duty encryption. The question is – who wrote it? The Old Boss himself? Or someone else?"
"Yeah... and if it was... someone else..." Wang said slowly. "Then who? Why?"
"Well, to get onto this server, you'd need some clearance – or a good hacker."
"Like yourself."
"Yeah. Like me... but hey, this isn't my work. Haha. Not my style."
"It could be a prank, you mean?" Linus asked. "People do this for fun?"
"Sometimes... or just to test their hacking chops," Klif shrugged. "You know, it's not the worst way to spend your time. Still, this is... this is kinda serious. We should talk to Hanmu."
"Hanmu's been back, right?" Wang nodded.
"Hamish – I mean, Hanmu's here? I've not seen him." Linus looked puzzled. "I heard he's a cheerful beast."
"He's bumming around, solitary style," Klif shook his head. "Down in the mouth, you know what I mean. Anyways, now that he's back from Mars, for goodness knows how long, we could tell him about it. He's got a tech degree after all from the Klyppa Institute, the bastard."
"A tech degree? From the Klyppa Institute? Heavens..."
"Among others," chuckled Wang.
"So you know where to find him, Klif," Linus said. "I say we go find him pronto."
"My thoughts exactly," Klif agreed, rising to his feet.

Looking down the seemingly endless white halls of the Fifth Complex B, Klif sighed.

"Now to get out of here."

Within the Belt, a multitude of corporations carved for themselves, literally, their headquarters. Despite the inherent dangerous of living in an asteroid field, many enterprising individuals considered it the optimal position in which to set up camp; for the Belt could reach back to Earth through Mars and its chain of satellites set up hundreds of years before and it could also look forward to the future of space travel – the outer planets. Providing services for Mars and the outer planetary colonies while keeping overhead costs down made for great profit, if one was willing to take the risk.

Life in the Belt, after all, was not easy. Dragging asteroids, maneuvering them into position, gutting them, installing adequate atmospheres within (and for some, without), connecting them and, last but not least, shielding them from rays and potential collisions. A long process and if any part was not adequately achieved, death would visit at some point down the line. Therefore, the importance of the air lock, gravity generators, the variety of physical, technological and particle shielding, the rocket booster and infinite power sources was paramount.

Great Man Virgil Cardo-Branson of the Branson and Cardogan fame – both English families of great wealth and standing within Earth's society – was the pioneer who lifted his family's fortunes and placed them in the hands of the start-up Martian colonies, back in the day when everyone still trucked about in the Hab-Modules. At the prime age of seventy, the blue-eyed, fierce tycoon looked beyond to the new colonies planned for Io, Europa, Titan, and Enceladus – and decided that the Belt was the new future for his enterprise. Thus, Illustrious Illusions, nicknamed Illustrions by its employees, moved house to the newly developing asteroid belt which lay between Mars and Jupiter.

It was no easy task, choosing and buying the necessary rocks and asteroids, joining them into the chosen "wheel spokes formation". Five smaller asteroids were connected by massive struts and long concrete poles which, hollowed out, created airtight tunnels leading to and from the main asteroid's body (made up of six smaller asteroids) to its adjoining complexes. A modest setup, many thought as they passed by from Io to Mars and back. With its snazzy lettering over the large airlocks which fronted the visitors' drop-off zone (not to be confused with the supplies and employee spaceship drop-off zone) and old world lighting which flickered under the assault of the Sun's rad-waves, Illustrions made a name in Old-World business dynamics and paradigms, which pleased the Great Man Virgil Cardo-Branson no end.

At first, Illustrions could only afford five complexes; but over time, others were added to a grand total of ten complexes, each with their own additional offshoots which housed small hostels for those who wished to enjoy a long-term engagement with the holos as well as passing travelers. Other dish and satellite technology systems were housed on the outer edges of the giant company's asteroid complex, the better to bounce the holographic signals: streams of ones and zeroes, long encrypted data streams of code, offerings of entertainment and media streamed live from Earth and Mars and Asia Corp – and, of course, Illustrions's time honoured holographic 3D worlds which could be delivered to your hologram door for a set monthly fee.

This was Illustrions.

This was the stage.

It was set.

The players were all ready.

"...all that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity."
[Hamlet, Act I, Scene II]

"Well, that's that. Some good work done today, folks," Claude nodded with a smile, rising finally from his four and a half hour conference with Andrew Pritchard, Director of Operations, two secretaries, a few other directors and R&D reps as well as Bertimand Slosser and Iggy Zhang-Paddon, corporate lawyers extraordinaire for Illustrions. Bringing an end to the meeting and allowing the lower staff disappear, Claude turned to the remaining directors and lawyers. "Life goes on, I guess, in the end... Well," and here, the newest face for Illustrions paused as he glanced out the large window to his left and caught a glimpse of the small group of people waiting outside the boardroom. "Well, for some of us... and for others, maybe not so much."

A small cloud of worry crossed the tall, grey-haired man's face as his sharp gaze focused on the tall, slender form of his nephew. As usual, Hamish stood on the fringes of things – far from the small crowd surrounding his mother. Looking aloof and disinterested as usual, sighed Claude. No doubt lost in his head contemplating the quantum physics of the afterlife or the metaphor of frogs on lily pads or some such nonsense. At this rate, he'll never be taken seriously. At this rate, Illustrions is doomed...

"Ahh... Hamish has returned – but he did not join us today?" asked Bertimand.
"Hamish is still upset about his father's death, poor boy," Claude shook his head. "Tch, my brother has been dead a good half of the year – and here he is, still dressed in black. That or he's gone goth or some such thing. I don't know which would be worse. Poor Zara."
"Yes," agreed the shorter, darker haired lawyer, diplomatically.

Bertimand glanced at his even shorter colleague Iggy meaningfully. Claude, catching the shared look, frowned.

"His mother must be very upset," Iggy finally murmured.
"She is. She was." Claude shrugged. "A practical woman – as all good Third-Genners are. This is a hard world and there is no use crying over things like that. Zara's got a great therapist who comes around every month. From Mars. Discreet. And does wonders, I think."
"I see..."
"She's a beautiful woman," Claude smiled. "My brother and I have similar tastes and there's no need to stand on ceremony in times like these. People must find comfort where they can – and Zara and I have always been good friends. Hamish, moping about like this, just... doesn't help his mother at all."
"He was always sensitive," Andrew Pritchard put in then. "I don't know where he got it from – but it wasn't from his father, that's for certain."
"Well, that's Hamish," Claude nodded. "We have other pressing issues to deal with, gentleman. I can sort out Hamish – you two," here, the man nodded at Iggy and Bertimand, "have your work cut out for you with the Niels-Ford situation. The young scamp needs to be stopped – nip it in the bud – throw our weight about the court room and make sure that everyone thinks twice before attempting to steal our tech with poorly arranged corporate espionage."
"Kevin would've have loved to be there," Andrew smiled. "I'm sure that he'll rest easier knowing that our company is in good hands, Claude. He started the law suit, but you're ending it. Successfully too, I might add, since it looks like we'll get some compensation for it all."
"Young Niels-Ford will regret tangling with Illustrious Illusions," smirked Iggy, "before the day is over, I promise you."
"Old Niels-Ford has already sent us an apology for his truant son's actions," Claude agreed, "but he knows it's not over yet. Good luck, you two!"
"Thank you," Bertimand nodded, collected his leather satchel and portfolio before following Iggy out.

After watching the two lawyers leave, Claude turned to Andrew, who had began to shuffle his papers back into neat piles as was his wont when his mind was far away and focused on other things. Raising an eyebrow, Claude walked over the extravagant wooden, imported side-board upon which had been neatly placed a row of coffee-makers, offering a variety of coffees, the better to keep all of them awake and on their feet during long conferences. Pouring himself a liberal mug, adding sugar and milk, Claude watched as a well-set, blonde-haired, grey-eyed young man tentatively poked his head in, glancing over at the bent head of the Director of Operations.

"Ah! Young Landon!" Claude recognized Andrew Pritchard's son right away. "You recovered well from last night, I see!"
"Yes," Landon blushed, realizing that the Old Man Claude was still in the room. "Sorry, sir. I didn't see you there, I was just-"
"It's no matter," Claude laughed. "Andrew, you did not seen your boy yesterday night at the Cool-Rock Canteen, giving my nephew a run for his money in that poker game of his!"
"Ahhh... Landon... I am so sorry, Claude – Landon-"
"Sorry, Dad, I was just wondering where Offie was-"
"She is not in her suite?" Andrew sighed and clucked his tongue. "That girl! I'd bet any money she's gotten herself embroiled in another sim. Again."
"Children," Claude chuckled, moving toward the door with his coffee. "Never had any of my own – but I must say they seem rather enlivening."
"Enlivening is one way of putting it. Landon here is giving me grey hairs all on his own," Andrew gave his son a grave look as he too packed up the remainder of his papers and exited the conference room on the heels of Claude.
"What's up, Landon?"
"I'm planning on returning to Mars within a day or two," Landon smiled at the older man, drawing closer to Zara and the few women and men standing about her, chatting.
"Wonderful! Wonderful!"
"I really want to get back there – back to studies and such."
"Ah... you came for term break, is that right? How's it saying goodbye again, Andrew? Too soon, you think?"
"Too soon," Andrew agreed, "but of course he has to return. He's got a full semester ahead of him – soon he'll be finished his economics degree and he'll be ready to start training for corporate life!"
"Well, good luck with that, son," Claude said warmly, giving a reassuring pat on Landon's arm. "And, er, there you are, Hamish..."
"Hanmu."
"Ah. Right. Yes. Well, I see you are still... dressed in black – didn't you get that package from your mother? I swear I saw her sending it over to your suite late last night. I thought it was quite a nice suit – and entirely to your taste – elegant, refined and understated..."

Hanmu returned Claude's gaze serenely.

"I received it. Yes."
"So, the black thing – you aren't going Goth, are you?" Landon asked. "That's so Old World."
"No," sighed Hanmu. "I'm not going Goth."
"Oh."
"He's in mourning, aren't you?" asked Claude. "Feeling... I forget what Earth folk say... feeling 'emo' or whatever?"
"Or whatever." Hanmu replied shortly. A pause. "Not really."
"Yes," Zara turned to give her son a disappointed look. "Still wearing the black. How many clothes did I send him, Claude? Sixteen packages?"
"Seventeen, counting last night."
"Seventeen – and look what we have – wretched black. You know, dear," Zara added gently, giving Hanmu's arm a gentle squeeze, "your father would understand if you moved on. Hamish-"
"Hanmu."
"Hanmu, your father lived a good life and, you know, this is all part of nature – living and dying and it was his time. He would not want you to go about looking so terrible for such a long time. I'm certain of it."
"Yeah, I get it. Circle of life and all that."
"Oh goodness, Hamish, you do have to say those things!" Zara rolled her eyes as Claude shot his tall nephew an sharp look.
"It's Hanmu – and someone does, apparently. Doesn't it worry you that we can forget the people we love so easily?" Hanmu sighed. "Never mind. This is gonna be over before you know it... who knows – maybe this is all an act? Life in the end may be nothing more than series of meaningless acts and this is just one of them-"
"Really." Zara looked at her son doubtfully. "Do I have to call Doctor Samuelson again?"
"I'm not deluded, Mother!" Hanmu snapped.
"There was that time-"
"That was then, this is now."
"And I fail to see the difference-"
"There is a difference."
"It's always different, dear."
"Well, this time it really is. I'm fine. It's not as bad as it looks, really. Stop making it such a big deal."
"Now, Hamish-" Claude interjected.
"Hanmu!"
"Yes, yes, Hanmu, look – you need to come to grips with this, son."
"I'm not-"
"Your father's empire isn't going to run itself – it's his legacy. His gift to you... and you're his son – a man who must face the facts. The facts of life and death – which are as inevitable as taxes and profit margins, let me tell you-"
"I know-"
"Really?" Claude asked disbelieving.

Hanmu glared at the older man.

"At any rate," Claude continued. "I'm sure you are anxious to return to Mars – but seriously, Hanmu, I think you need some time away from your friends in order to consider what lies ahead of you. Besides, your mother and I would rather you stay – we haven't seen you for the better part of the year-"
"Not since the funeral, in fact," Zara sighed. "Come, dear, stay and let Landon return on his own. Your home is here and it is time you learned the ropes, as it were."
"Well..." Hanmu sighed, turning his glare to the floor and his feet. "Put like that..."
"Great," Claude managed to dredge up a smile. "Excellent, Hamish. Your mother and I are very proud of you-"
"It's Hanmu."
"We'll expect to see you in the boardroom more often these days, eh, Zara?"

Here, the older man drew the ever-fiery, dark-haired blue-eyed Zara into a side-ways hug in order to better give her a kiss on the cheek. Hanmu just barely managed to suppress a flinch and Claude smirked. Let him squirm, he thought. He's a big boy – and he needs to learn. Let him learn. It's past time.

"Now," Zara was saying, "none of that funny business, Claude." She added with a giggle, "I need you to save it for tonight!"
"Mother!" Hanmu's horrified voice clashed with laughter from all sides.
"Your mom's a firecracker, isn't she?" Landon nudged Hanmu in the ribs.

Hanmu leaned away and gave Landon a look which shut the younger man up promptly. Claude sighed. Getting Hamish ready is going to be almost impossible, he thought grimly, but we have to do it, Kev. For you. For our future. For Illustrions.