CHAPTER 10
Talos Tower
Rapture's newest building was barely two months in its anchorage, and already it's hall were buzzing. Eighty percent of the retail outlets on the lower floors had been leased even before the building was finished, and now Sheridan had people trying to outbid each other for the remaining spaces. One of them had pockets too deep for his own good – the other however, had been a younger woman desperate to start finding herself an income, and had offered Sheridan's estate agents every Rapture dollar she had to secure her the remaining premises on the sixth floor.
In the end, his heart had gone out to her, and he had signed the lease over to her. Like him, she'd come from an English family of considerable wealth, however Ryan's bank had encouraged her to invest much of it into savings accounts with the promise of a favorable interest. She had however, then been met with binding contracts and fee's should she ever try to make an early withdrawl – or any withdrawl for that matter. She was now, reading between the lines, essentially a pauper with a title, who had nearly resorted to begging Sheridan for the chance to earn at least a living wage by opening a small pet grooming salon.
The experience with the young woman had made him pause for thought. Rapture had appealed to a select group of geniuses true – mainly those whose genius had come to an impass when regulated by law on the surface. The thousands of others however, appeared to have been invited to Rapture either because their skillset meant they would be useful in building and maintaining the great city, or because their bank balance, which had to be transferred into a Rapture bank without exception, was sizable enough to sure up and stabilize the city's young economy.
But already, people like that poor young woman opening her pet salon, were finding either that with the city's initial construction slowing down, that their construction skills were no longer required, or that with their personal fortunes tied up nicely in the Rapture banks, that they had no readily accessible means to support themselves or try their hand at entrepreneurship.
Sheridan had been very relieved by his ferocity when negotiating his banking contracts upon settling in Rapture - as from the outset it had been very apparent, that Ryan wanted almost every penny that could be accumulated to go into the Banks. Rapture couldn't profess to be a breeding ground for success and accomplishment, if it couldn't boast a thriving and strong economy.
Sheridan sat now at his large desk, looking out over his cavernous office that through it's many anti-chambers, dining rooms, file rooms and bathrooms, occupied the entire fifty-third floor. The amber glow from the lights made the golden sculptures and framework gleam, and accentuated the deep brown of the wooden floors. Everything then still bore the refreshing, cool glow from the enormous windows that filled the wall behind him. When he had asked the Wales Brothers for a 'respectable, slightly intimidating layout' for his office, in hope it would wow any visitors into submission before they reached out to him with their begging bowls, what they had gone on to provide instead, was comparable to a grand throne room! The hallway to his office from the elevators had his initials built into the marble floor tiles, and indoor fountains cascaded down towering sculptures into small ornamental gardens.
It was in fact Daniel Wales who now sat across his desk from him, holding a large blueprint out across the desk top, with a new chap beside him, sat in silence, taking everything in. His name was Charles Milton Porter.
"We can put your Bathysphere stations into these buildings without any trouble, and pending approval from Ryan himself, all major construction projects will have a 'Rapture Metro' station included in their designs as standard, by a matter of contract." Daniel Wales finished.
"That contract will need to include all the fittings from us Mr Wales - very well having a station built, but without the transmitters and automation systems linking the travel routes, timetables and guidance systems to the Thinker's central core, nobody will be able to guide any Bathysphere into those stations without smashing themselves against some pillar or wall. It's a much more intricate system than you and I are used to designing for the Atlantic Express - those things are stuck on their rails, can't wonder about. Thinker says 'Go' and they go. With these Bathysphere's, we will need to factor in speed, depth, drift, course..."
"I have every confidence you can do it, Porter" Sheridan interrupted.
"I'd still like to take a closer look at one of your Bathysphere's if I may, Mr Ambrose? To see how I can start integrating Thinker's transmitters into their design?"
Sheridan smiled, "Are you free this afternoon? I'm taking someone out in one of our new fishing submarines, they operate on exactly the same technology. I'm sure you won't mind my guest - she's rather quiet most of the time, a Dr Tenenbaum?"
"Sure I don't mind." Porter waved a hand dismissively.
"And Daniel... do I have your guarantee that none of these arrangements are finding their way back to Prentice Mill? I know you've had a long working relationship with him, installing the Express routes, but I like to think you are professional enough to keep each project confidential."
"Mr Ambrose, you have my word. But in complete honesty, you have my personal favour in the matter. It is clear to most that Bathysphere's are the future - Prentice hasn't contracted any new stations or lines of track into the new city blocks. I suspect he's feeling the pressure of your stiff competition already."
Sheridan nodded at both men with satisfaction, and rose up out of his wing-back chesterfield office chair, extending a hand to shake on their agreements.
"Alas, I must be off now. Myself and Edward have dinner plans, and then we're attending Cohen's new skit at the Footlights Theatre."