My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible Chapter 540 Staffs Living Quarters

Sequentially, airlocks unsealed along the central passageway, each discharging a small cluster into the identical lengthy white corridor.

This hallway was spacious—spacious enough for five people to stride side by side without grazing shoulders—and it extended in both directions farther than seemed plausible for a structure carved into the moon's surface.

High above hung the ceiling, with light emanating from everywhere and nowhere, that same diffused glow observed from space, constant, pristine, lacking the cozy warmth of any identifiable source.

Three figures in dark suits were already positioned there as the initial groups appeared.

One advanced toward them.

"Welcome to Lunar Base Sanctuary," he announced. "I'll take you to your quarters and walk you through the areas you'll have access to during your stay. Follow me."

Without pausing for a reply, he pivoted and led the staff group onward.

Long enough was the hallway that multiple staff members could examine it closely while proceeding. Smooth and seamless were the walls, save for sporadic inset panels whose purposes remained obscure at first glance.

Slightly darker than the walls, the flooring material blended subtly at the edges, requiring a second to discern. Windows were absent. Natural light was nowhere. Yet the area avoided the claustrophobic feel typical of buried installations. Its vast scale prevented that. The soaring ceiling. The ample dimensions.

The hallway's end arrived.

A blank wall. Pristine, unadorned, indistinguishable from all prior wall segments passed. The guide ahead didn't hesitate. He approached steadily, and just before collision, the wall split—dividing precisely at the center, halves retracting into recesses, unveiling a doorway broader than anticipated.

An elevator awaited.

At a gesture, they entered—thirty-six staff plus the Synths trailing—and the chamber accommodated them effortlessly. A few tensed as the final entrants boarded, bracing for the squeeze of overcrowding in tight confines.

No such unease materialized. Ample room allowed comfortable standing, luggage at feet, space between everyone.

Silently, the doors sealed.

They anticipated motion's telltale signs—the gut-dropping descent, ear-popping pressure, floor's subtle hum common to all elevators. None occurred. No one touched controls. Buttons were missing from walls, no display above doors, no console whatsoever. Merely flawless surfaces, unwavering light, and their silent group of thirty-six.

Suddenly, the doors parted.

Yet another white corridor. Distinct from the prior—tighter, ceiling not as lofty, layout more home-like than thoroughfare. Numbers caught eyes first: crisp numerals above designated wall spots, uniformly placed, each beside a hand-level flush panel.

The guide halted, facing the group.

"Each of you was given a number in your acceptance email," he instructed. "Find the matching number on the wall. When you find it, place your hand on the panel beside it."

Scattering down the hall, they scanned numerals, acting with purpose after endless vagueness.

A Johannesburg data analyst located his first. He paused before the panel, palm lifted, then pressed it firmly against the surface.

Clean text displayed his name. One prompt appeared: Confirm registration.

He selected confirm.

Momentary delay. Then another: Biometric registered. Access granted.

The adjacent wall shifted. Like elevator doors, it retracted seamlessly into itself, material withdrawing until the full entry stood open—leading into pitch black.

At the edge, he peered within.

Slowly, the void clarified.

Gently rising, lights illuminated in stages, allowing vision and thoughts to adapt gradually, freezing him in awe at the sight.

Vast was the room. Not the contrived hugeness of hotel boasts, but truly expansive. Unexpectedly tall rose the ceiling, dimensions so open they banished any trapped sensation.

Warm and softly resilient underfoot, the flooring differed entirely from the outer passage, its material unknown yet inviting. Walls in subtle neutral—not stark white, not dull gray—held a texture that drank light softly.

Low and broad against the distant wall sat the bed, frame hugging the floor, covers far superior to ordinary sheets.

Along the left wall, a desk stretched the entire length. Its surface shone clean and dark, with panels embedded into it at regular intervals, their functions not immediately obvious.

Above the desk, the wall stood seamless—no screen, no display—and then, as the analyst watched, a portion of it slid aside, turning transparent, unveiling a sight he hadn't foreseen.

The chamber overlooked not the lunar surface, but the heart of the base—a sprawling enclosed communal zone visible beyond the clear wall, bathed in the same warm-white illumination as everywhere else, immense enough that its distant edges showed only in faint outlines. Verdant hues appeared from this spot. True greenery. Plants, or entities mimicking plants, thriving densely along the bottom level of the common space, far thicker than he'd ever pictured.

He spun back toward the room.

A lounge zone held two chairs and a low table between them, the seats made of some deep, yielding material. A door beside the desk opened to a bathroom, and he moved to its entrance, glanced inside, and lingered there briefly.

The bathroom matched the scale of his living room back home.

The fittings gleamed spotless, straightforward, and highly practical, but their dimensions were opulent by any standard he knew. A shower stall so roomy that "cramped" didn't apply. A sink of sleek dark stone-like substance he couldn't identify. Towels stacked neatly on a rack, so plush they screamed deliberate luxury.

He returned to the primary room, planted himself in its middle, and rotated slowly, scanning each wall one by one.

Via the ajar doorways down the living corridor, the rest were mirroring him.

The physical therapist out of Toronto flattened both palms on the transparent wall, peering through at the common space and greenery underneath.

Her look echoed the disbelief she'd flashed outside JFK before stepping onto the platform.

The head chef headed straight for the desk, inspecting the inset panels with expert focus, already crunching mental figures. He tapped one. A display blossomed above the desk top, presenting a neat menu of choices in crisp lettering, and he leaned in, studying intently.

The translator hovered in her room's center, bag still slung over her shoulder, undeposited, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes drifted down gradually, sweeping the space section by section, and upon hitting the transparent wall with its view of the common area and green expanse, she froze motionless for what felt like forever.

Then she placed her bag down.

Farther down the hall, a nurse perched on his bed's edge, pressing palms into its surface to test the yield, like someone verifying reality by touch. He stayed put a moment. Then he reclined fully dressed, bag on the floor nearby, and gazed upward.

The ceiling loomed high and plain, aglow with the base's signature sourceless lighting.

He shut his eyes.

He flung them open right away, as closing them felt like squandering the moment.

The lead Synth showed up at the residential hallway's entry and announced in a tone that carried sharp and clear to all without raising volume.

"Orientation begins in two hours in the common area. Meals are available now. You have time to settle."

It wheeled around and strode back to the elevator, abandoning them to their explorations.

The hallway fell hushed. Doors to the private quarters gaped open along both walls, warm glows pouring into the passage, the noises from thirty-six souls meeting their new digs blending quiet awe, tiny unwitting noises, and one quick laugh from the far end that no one could pin to a face.

The data analyst from Johannesburg still stood rooted in his room's midst.

He lifted his bag and placed it atop the desk.

Afterward, he stepped to the transparent wall and stared out at the common space, the green below, and the soaring base ceiling above, remaining there until orientation time arrived.