[October 2024]

---

Tales of Concierge Worlds:
Hospitality in an indifferent universe

Two golden keys
crossed at start,
5-star keepers
of the heart.
So …
enjoy all things
for your part!

by John Healy

---

EPIGRAPH

A perfect democracy can come close to looking like a dictatorship, a democracy in which the people are so satisfied they have no complaint.” — Huey Long, 1933 [T. Harry Williams, Huey Long (1969), p. 762]

---

PROLOGUE (short stories from Tales of Tau’s World)

• First phone day (December 2023)

• Phone reactivation day

•• Prelude

When Tau looked back … because there were breadcrumbs …

He’d lost his birth world. Lost his home world. Gone, gone, … disconnected. As in bygone times: “Your call cannot be completed, that number’s no longer in service.” He wondered, “What’s next?” He hadn’t even been presented with choices. And his environment changed without any consent.

It was not like being offered an opportunity to reinvent yourself (as if that might be a real possibility, made from free choices).

It was not like starting over either – an amnesiac reset.

It was more like repeated KOs, each time waking up on another world, in a similar society, with a highlight reel of memories from before each shock (when in fact he’d been old enough to retain any).

His personal AI hadn’t been much help. Evasive. There’d been some kind of emergency evacuation. Perhaps due to a plague.

Yet, things made sense. He felt like himself (there was no “what happened, I’m not me anymore” feeling). He had a sense of purpose.

Some of his prior cohort – to the degree that he remembered or felt them to be so – were still around. That helped.

The hardest part was that each discontinuity was not as painful as he’d expect (based on gleanings from historical records of tragedies). He didn’t feel traumatized. Was he a freak? Perhaps his emotional state was modulated somehow, tuned by something unawares. (As a courtesy, eh.)

He’d remembered some of the awakening this time … months ago.

•• A tortoise-like awakening

Most recent editions of The Annotated Idiot’s Guide to Extended Stasis contain advice like this:

Hospitality services need to consider that exiting Sterling stasis is not like “instant breakfast.” It takes awhile, several days, and up to a week for economy class.

The subject’s perception rises gradually to a conscious level. Traces of dreams come & go. While opening of the eyes is typically a key milestone, situational awareness returns at a tortoise-like pace.

Generally at first the subject is neither hungry or thirsty. And there’s no sudden, impulsive urge to ask you a lot of questions. The general experience is a sense of relief – that they’re still themselves.

He had no recollection of the first days after being unloaded (begging the question of any subconscious effects). But after that stage, Tau remembered some dreams. Some were vivid. As if looking at himself unfold like an origami animal into a flat piece of paper, to the sound of an increasing murmur. In others, he was surrounded by lights, dancing and laughing with friends.

His first tangible memory was of some voices, synthetic voices, with a reassuring tone. “Stage 3 proceeding normally. … gene map stabilizing …”

Then later, there were direct personal messages: “Tau, everything’s going okay. Just be patient. Can you move your mouth? … Good. Move your hand? … Great. … You’ll doze off for awhile as you enter the last stage.”

He recalled being awakened by a tune – like from normal sleep. Then opening his eyes, stretching a bit. He’d tried to get up. At which point a human face hovered into view.

“Tau, welcome to Torrence hospitality. My name is Lisa. Everything appears normal. Just sit on the bed while we disconnect some patches.”

He mumbled, “Disconnect?” Instinctively he raised his left arm (no problem) – was something missing? – and tapped near his ear. Yes, his phone was still there. He looked at Lisa and started to ask …

She interrupted, “We’ll reactivate that later. Let’s get you dressed, and acquainted with the place.”

---

CHAPTER ONE

“A superposition of two states”

what is there to reply, to say?
pay the beast, we cannot stay.

• Prelude

He looked back … remembrances … years ago.

The prayers rose to the heavens. Prayers for peace, hopes for an end to generations of suffering, conflict & war. Cries of desperation, for some way to move forward, a pathway …

But what came from the skies were ships, huge spaceships, with portals open, open in welcome – if you believed.

The training center’s lights flickered. Tau briefly gazed upward, while reflecting on the workshop’s case study. “Yes, if you believed there was a path forward; but more particularly if you accepted the T&C,” he mused (considering his personal history so long ago). That was the point, really – the T&C.

The Center’s AI “Lexy” beeped. Everyone looked up at the holographic infographic for the case at hand. Lexy asked, in the routine way, “So, what do you think? Was this a success? Any lessons learned?”

Tau had mixed feelings. His personal saga held lessons. But it also held doubts about choices, if in fact choices were possible.

Yet, that was why he was there. As a seasoned journeyman, he’d become sort of a mentor – a valued resource and negotiator. Officially he was a consultant for new projects. But sometimes he felt more like a corporate PR agent, or a customer relations rep, smoothing over collateral consequences. Always to preserve the hospitality brand.

Lexy prompted, “Do we intervene only in no-win scenarios?”

Tau remained silent, but wanted to say: “Are we the only path forward? Pacification or planetary relocation?”

He had been through this before. He’d found the ususal discussion of pros & cons tedious. He dreaded discussions about psychological and cultural conditioning; and, naturally, genetic engineering.

Tau felt exhausted and haunted by the past – a stark contrast with the enthusiasm of the young agents.

He pondered the question of an indifferent universe. A recession in hospitality was unthinkable. Hmm … perhaps a dangerous thought. Was there something more behind the curtain? Something beyond mean utility, beyond T&C.