Chapter 316: Blast from the Past
Marcus, the Viceroy of Ghost Reef and chief diplomat of the Lighthouse, stared at the peculiar flock of pink flamingos. He was perpetually astonished by their presence. The kitschy plastic lawn ornaments were the last choice of decor he would have predicted for such an important gathering, but there they were, in all their flamboyant glory.
He had already attended countless conferences, fundraisers, and meetings in his lifetime, but representing Ghost Reef during mana’s assimilation had sent him to the most unique venues by far.
The pink decorations established an entire flock, grazing at the edge of an artificial turf yard. The unnaturally green, plastic grass floor just added to the uncanniness, like they were attending the continental summit within a dreamlike scenario of overexposed colors. The setting was a time capsule, displaying a surreal imitation of 1960s suburban Americana, slapped into a rural farmland.
Marcus sat in a white plastic chair, flimsy and brittle with age, near an idle barbeque grill that was positioned on a generous concrete patio and beneath a conspicuous air filter. The three opposite walls were painted with the depiction of a white picket fence, separating the fake lawn from images of large grassy fields, filled with happy cows in the distance, and dotted with large solitary trees that provided islands of shade.
The ceiling was covered in soft lights while portraying blue skies and white clouds, as if it was a summer afternoon, no matter the season or time of day. A single large vault door led back to the rest of the facility, positioned in the center of the one wall decorated with the picture of an idyllic post-war household. There was even a picture of an apple pie cooling on the window sill of the kitchen, steam drifting in an imaginary summer breeze.
Marcus subtly shook his head, finding the bunker itself slightly more unnerving than the recent developments that had put many of the other attendees into a mild state of panic.
“It’s not that bad, as far as safehouses go.” Arthur opined, standing over Marcus’s shoulder, like a mix between a butler, secretary, and bodyguard, clearly detecting the Viceroy’s bewildered observations of the place. The fact that the proper old man, and intelligence advisor of Ghost Reef, had a point of reference for safehouses wasn’t suspicious at all.
Marcus smiled, doing his best to stifle a laugh that would have conflicted with the general mood of the rest of the attendees. This was the designated VIP area, separate from other communal areas of the underground complex that had been built beneath a red barn at the side of a cattle ranch somewhere in the western portion of Kansas. The company was overly serious thanks to their special status and all of the official matters regarding the Primal Constructs and Fallen Zones that they had planned to discuss for the last several days.
Of course, Marcus had opened with the more detailed explanations of what they knew regarding the cataclysmic Eradication Protocol, advertised the purpose of Ghost Reef’s unique level of effort, and extended a preliminary invitation of proper cooperation with the rest of humanity through the Lighthouse faction. They had all previously been given a brief one-line introduction from either Coop or one of the growing number of experienced Ghost Reef ambassadors, but this meeting had provided the first detailed reveal of the plans already in action and the mysterious bits of information they had pieced together. It had been a serious string of topics and the audience were essentially the leaders of the post-mana world.
Marcus had gone on to individually meet with each and every official representative, keeping the message simple and straightforward. The Eradication Protocol was a real threat, as evidenced by the preliminary appearance of Icons of Mana, and in order to have a fighting chance, the best way was to have the settlements join the Lighthouse in order to benefit from the faction’s aura throughout their territories. Failing that, Ghost Reef would be a shelter, and anyone willing to help bolster their chance of survival would be welcomed.
Given the topics, a certain level of sobriety was appropriate, which was why the decor was so incongruous.
“It’s hard to appreciate the interior design choices after helping plan our own underground.” Marcus quietly confessed. “The vastness of each level is incomparable, and the decor…” He shuddered involuntarily.