The Before Short Story Series. Part 1 - стр. 30
The taxi flew up to a high-rise building, on which roof he noticed a landing spot marked with circles. The taxi slowly started to descend. As soon as the hum of the electric motors died away, a hotel employee approached the drone.
‘Mr. Vidalgo, welcome to the Siberia Hotel.’
‘Good afternoon,’ Antonio replied. His headphones with a built-in translator on, he could communicate with others, continuing to speak English and understanding perfectly his interlocutors.
‘Did you have a good flight? Can I help you with your luggage?’
‘Thank you. Everything is OK. I only have this bag.’
‘Of course. Will I take you to your room or would you like to go down to the lobby?’ the hotel employee asked checking.
‘Straight to the room, please.’
‘Very well, Mr. Vidalgo. Would you follow me, please.’
While waiting for a guest in his room on the fortieth floor, Antonio ordered coffee to cheer himself up a little. Initially, the meeting was supposed to take place not far from Irkutsk, in Cheremkhovo, which had a rather ambiguous reputation. Earlier, over a hundred years ago, coal was mined there. But today the fate of the town was related to completely different opportunities. Cheremkhovo was considered to be one of the world’s informal hacker centers. It was possible that such a fame was to some extent supported and cultivated by certain government agencies. They said that the Russian security services were related to the activity in Cheremkhovo. It would be naïve to assume that the authorities did not know what was going on under their very noses. Most likely, once a free and informal community of talented programmers got close or was forced to make certain contacts with the state. But it didn’t bother Robert at all. So it shouldn’t bother him either. And yet Antonio preferred to hold a meeting in Irkutsk.
He came up to the window looking at the city centre, where cargo and passenger electric drones were flying in-between high-rise buildings along several air corridors. Each corridor was dedicated to movement in one direction only. From a distance, it reminded Antonio of ants’ paths where they would diligently carry all day long whichever sticks, bugs and larvae. The Angara River was visible between the buildings, its water surface illuminated with the bright sun, and pleasure boats and yachts gliding. For a moment it seemed to him that there was something familiar about the view—it was as if he were in his favourite bay in Naples. A knock on the room door brought him back to reality.
The guest, who introduced himself as Alexander, was sitting opposite Antonio in the living room at a round table in front of the window.