My Ultimate Sign-in System Made Me Invincible Chapter 545 Back At The Bay Area

Following the orientation, a profound silence enveloped the hallway for an hour, as most personnel remained in their quarters during their calls home.

The soundproofing within each quarter was so effective that no sound, no matter how loud, could escape its walls.

Once the calls concluded, doors began to open once more.

Individuals emerged into the hallway in small groups, exhibiting a similar casualness as before the dining area. They carried a palpable restlessness, the kind experienced by those who have absorbed all they can while seated and now need to move.

The data analyst was the first to approach one of the Synths stationed at the hallway's far end.

"The bay," he stated. "The shuttle bay through which we arrived. Is it accessible?"

The Synth regarded him. "Yes. Vac suits and magnetic boots are required prior to entry. The airlock will not cycle without them."

"And the elevator? How does one operate it?"

"The elevator doors will open automatically as you approach. Within, a touch interface is integrated into the right wall. Please select your destination from the level directory. The bay is listed under Arrival Infrastructure."

Several individuals nearby had been overhearing the conversation. The information disseminated through the group organically, without need for repetition.

They all retreated to their respective quarters.

The process of donning the suits for the second time was considerably faster than the first – the collar seal, the gloves, and the magnetic boots clicked into place with the familiar heel-strike practiced during the shuttle journey.

The Synths moved along the hallway proactively, inspecting seals with the same methodical approach used during boarding, making adjustments as necessary, and then moving on to the next person.

Once everyone was confirmed ready, they proceeded to the elevator collectively.

As the Synth had described, the doors parted automatically upon their approach. The interface panel on the right wall was sleek and minimalist, displaying a schematic of the base in outline. Each level was clearly labeled, and each section was accessible with a single touch.

The data analyst located Arrival Infrastructure and made his selection, pondering how he had overlooked it earlier.

As anticipated, there was the familiar sensation of movement. The elevator doors opened onto the lower corridor.

They proceeded down this corridor – the very same one they had traversed upon arrival, which now appeared different, viewed with fresh eyes no longer preoccupied with the bay they had just exited. The airlock at the end came into view well before they reached it, its glass door transparent, revealing the bay beyond, which was dim save for the steady white glow of the overhead lighting.

The glass door slid open automatically as the first person neared it.

They filed inside. The door sealed shut behind the final individual. A brief interval ensued, followed by pressure equalization, and then the bay-side door opened, revealing a vacuum air that carried nothing but the profound stillness of a space untouched by the elements.

They stepped through.

The bay welcomed them just as it had upon their arrival. The ceiling was so high it precluded any sense of confinement, and the rows of shuttles extended down both sides further than the eye could clearly resolve. The overhead lighting was uniform and steady, casting no shadows.

This time, there was no one designated to lead them anywhere. No orientation schedule awaited, nor was there a Synth proceeding ahead at a brisk pace. They simply stood within the expansive area of the bay and observed.

And then, one by one, cell phones emerged.

The data analyst moved towards the nearest row of shuttles, his phone held aloft, gliding along the length of the closest hull.

The dark surface seemed to absorb the overhead light just as it had absorbed the pale morning sky above JFK.

He reached the shuttle's nose and halted.

From this vantage point, gazing down the vehicle's entire length, its magnitude registered differently than it had from the boarding platform. He had been focused on boarding then, his attention directed towards a destination. Now, he was simply appreciating the view. The shuttle measured thirty-eight meters in length, and he stood at one extremity, yet the sheer size of the bay meant that thirty-eight meters barely began to fill it.

He turned and surveyed the rows.

He began counting slowly, shifting his gaze from one hull to the next. He reached thirty before the rows began to curve subtly, obscuring the vehicles further away. More spacecraft were present beyond the curve.

He lowered his phone and stood in quiet contemplation.

Meanwhile, the head chef had ventured in the opposite direction, walking not towards the shuttles but across the open expanse of the bay towards the far wall, which had been indistinct upon their arrival. He reached it and turned back, surveying the full width of the space from the opposite side.

He recalled cooking in a São Paulo restaurant housed in a converted warehouse, which had been considered exceptionally vast. He now stood in a space that made that warehouse seem like a mere corridor.

Raising his phone, he initiated a slow video recording, panning deliberately from one side of the bay to the other.

The physical therapist hailing from Toronto had indeed located the shuttle's hull – the very vessel they had arrived in, she was certain, recognizing its precise docking position relative to the airlock. Her palm was pressed flat against its surface.

The material felt frigid even through her glove, the temperature difference noticeable despite the suit's insulation. She stood there, hand on the hull, gazing upward along the curving fuselage—if that was the correct term—towards the bay's ceiling, and then down to the docking mechanism where the boarding platform was retracted flush with the underside.

Thoughts of the biting cold at JFK drifted through her mind. The tarmac. The nurse glancing back once before facing forward again.

She captured a photograph of the hull from her vantage point, the image showcasing the surface's gentle curve and the line of identical vehicles stretching away from it.

Then, without a word, she dispatched it to her sister in Vancouver.

A mere three seconds later, a reply pinged on her phone: 'What am I looking at?'

She swiftly typed back: 'The shuttle I arrived on. I'm touching it.'

A more significant pause ensued. Then: 'Okay, I need to sit down.'

A subtle smile touched her lips within the helmet. Pocketing her phone, she lingered, her hand still against the hull for a little while longer.

Towards the bay's center, the kitchen assistant from Lagos and their counterpart from Seoul had found each other organically. They stood side-by-side, their phones recording the scene in the same direction. Silence had reigned between them since entering the bay.

After a period, the Lagos assistant lowered his phone.

"I almost didn't apply," he commented.

The Seoul assistant continued filming for another moment before also lowering his device.

"Me too," he replied.

They remained in place for another beat. Then, the Lagos assistant raised his phone once more, resuming his filming, and the Seoul assistant mirrored the action. The bay enveloped them both in its serene, vast luminescence.