Neverending

20

Terrafirme looks exactly like it does on TV.

You know when you first go to New York and you can't escape that feeling of being on a movie set – steam rising from manholes; yellow cabs gridlocked down Madison Avenue and the almost-Tokyo giant screens that wrap around the high risers in Times Square? That's what arriving at Terrafirme feels like: like you're re-living every promo bumper since 2080.

The first thing you see is its trademark glass arch. At its apex, the unassuming Terrafirme logo. Terrafirme may be there to save people; it may have its roots in ethical positivity. But it's still a business and it still has a brand. Despite City's funding, it still needs a continual inward flow of investment because all of those vertical farms, hyrdoponics and coral reef printing still cost more than Terrafirme can naturally produce – though forecasting suggests that it'll be in profit by 2292. And although we'd have to be stupid not to think it was a worthwhile investment into our future, thinking and knowing something and putting your money where you should are two quite different things.

Why is it that we think it's ok to incessantly put off investing in things like Terrafirme? Because there are companies like Extensis making tech that people really LOVE. Sure, they like living on Earth just fine but ploughing money into its survival has never seemed that pressing. I wonder if public opinion is about to pivot.   

I wonder if it'll make any difference, either way.

Delta slows down in response to speed inhibitors as we draw nearer to the Gateway. I've seen it all before, so many times, but I still can't help but be awestruck. The ALON dome shimmers, almost invisible in the early evening light, camouflaged further by the gathering clouds darkening in the West. It's not just the sight of Terrafirme that strikes me, I realise. It's being close to something that feels like family for the first time since that unexpected Chaos notification this morning. I've been on high alert ever since and for the last couple of hours largely running on empty. 

 I need to get to my people. I need to feel safe.

My car comes to a complete halt about 200 meters from the Clearing. I lower the window on my side as a screen asks permission to access Delta. I agree, then wait. The screen pulses amber at me for what seems like far too long. I look around, trying to take an interest in what I see - after all, I've just arrived at one of the world's most famous landmarks.  But all I can see is that tiny screen, refusing to change colour. 

What has it been – two minutes? 

Three? 

I can feel my pulse quicken. What if Jimmy couldn't secure me a place? I'm absolutely fu-

The screen flashes white and asks me to place my hand against the glass. I've no idea why somewhere like Terrafirme is using biometrics older than Donna but I follow the instructions unhesitatingly. I remove my hand when told to and wait as asked.

My catastrophising is about to pick up its uneasy tempo when the screen finally flashes green.

TINDER 041023, PLEASE ENTER TERRAFIRME.

WELCOME.