The sand made that soft crunching sound as he walked along the beach. This was not an island he had been to before, and from the state of the facilities behind him, few people come here at all.
Still, the beach was as good as any other. The slightly orange hue of the sand familiar to him. The water lapped around a pile of rocks that would be tidal pools in the morning. The kids would love to come here and explore, find some unusual creatures lurking in the water.
Off to his left was a thick jungle. They had assured him that there was nothing in the jungle, at least nothing worth him fretting about. They had gone to great lengths to ensure that there was nothing dangerous, to humans at least, in this place. Nevertheless, he eyed the trees and the unnatural darkness with unhidden suspicion.
He walked out to the breakers and felt the water wash around his ankles. The water was warm and fresh and as each wave receded, he felt the sand pull at the sandles on his feet. Here and there, strands of seaweed floated by, shells were pulled to and fro in the water and if he waited, and watched carefully, he could see small fish darting around, chased by imaginary predators and his shadow.
Within the facility, she watched, a neutral expression on her face. She was not here to decide what it meant, she was just an overseer. She could, of course, offer her own speculation, but given her lack of training in that arena, it would not be given any weight. In this instance, it was his insight that was prioritised right now.
She watched through a one way window as he wrote his report. He had gone through several pages already and showed no signs of slowing down. She had a gut feeling that most of it was praise, but he was hard to impress. Getting something right and getting something good were two very different things and he was always the best bet to differentiate the two.
He slipped his sandles off and stepped up to the edge of the empty pool. Despite being empty, the water still lapped at the edges. He tilted his head at the sight and got down on one knee to investigate. It wasnt a current, of course, but it was as if it was the final waves from someone jumping in at the other end. He looked up and, as before, there was no one down there. He was the only person here. That is if you dont count the people watching from the other side of the room, which he didnt, since to him they werent here.
He stood back up and took his mark at the end of the lane. Breathing out slowly, he braced himself and dived in. the water engulfed him as he ploughed through it. He breached the surface and taking a large breath, he started a powerful swim towards the other end. In a time that wasnt overly impressive, but still good for a man of his age and build, he reached the end whereupon he flipped around and started coming back the other way. When he arrived back at where he started, he pulled himself out of the pool and looked back down. He frowned and stood, sloughing the water off his body before heading back to the changing rooms. He had definite notes about this one.
Each page of his report made her angrier and angrier. He tore about each aspect of the facility and, while he didnt speak about the people who ran it, that was certainly between the lines of what he had written. The worst part was that now that someone had pointed it out, it was clear that he was right. It was right there in front of them and they had been so quick to approve everything they had forgotten their own, internal, QA.
She replaced the pages, as neatly as she could, in the folder and walked down the bone white corridors past a dozen identical unlabelled doors and directly into one without knocking. She laid the folder before the bemused man seated at the desk and for the next hour she outlined every single change that would fix the issues that the reporter had identified. When the man, her supervisors supervisor, eventually agreed that she was correct and every single change would have to be made in a particular way, she threw another folder down before him. She stormed out without another word.
In the second folder was a report, from her, detailing everything in the original report and every change needed to fix it. It was dated nearly three years prior.
He had never been big on adventure sports. He wasnt the sort to enjoy adrenaline inducing jumps out of planes, or rafting down wild, white, unpredictable rivers. The most he did was the occasional hot lap around a racetrack with his son who was making a small name for himself in a local circuit.
But even he had to admit, right now, there was something special about his position, sitting on the edge of an open helicopter seat, a snowboard attached to his feet, waiting for the green light next to him to illuminate.
When the moment came, he didnt even get a chance to react himself. He felt powerful hands on his back and he was falling.
The snowboard hit the soft powder and he was away, racing down the hill towards the base camp, some five kilometres down the mountain.
For the next hour or so, he made his way down the mountain. Much of it was able to be taken at speed and he was screaming with joy each time he found a nice open stretch where he could really enjoy it. Other parts were almost zigzagging between trees and rocks where the snow was not as thick. Here he had to concentrate. He almost lost it a few times, but was able to regain control before he crashed.
Before he knew it, he was at the base camp, assistants rushing over to disconnect him from the snowboard and let him into the hotel where he, his own people and the group who was funding these trips were staying. They all looked up as he entered and got rid of the heavy boots at the door. He shook his waterproof outer layer off and grabbed an open armchair near a roaring fire. Without even asking, a mug of something that smelled strong was handed to him.
For the next hour he went over every minute of his journey down the hill in minute detail with anyone who wanted to listen.
She let herself relax. It wasnt the best report, in fact in a lot of ways it was worse than the previous one, but this was the one that concerned her. She had been worried that they had bitten off more than they could chew. This was meant to be a dominant part of their plan, a gigantic mountain free for any and all extreme snow sports, along with other mountain related events, their guests could think of. Had this report come back panning the idea entirely, they would have to go back to the drawing board and she knew they didnt have the best ideas left in that well.
The report suggested a few major changes, especially for the more adept skiiers. She looked at his recommendations with interest. She had not considered the fact that people would come here for the danger. Once again, it was obvious.
She slid the report in her out tray with her annotations. She was not welcome in her upper management meetings anymore. Any goodwill she might have had with those people was burnt after her little episode after the pool report came back. She would come back, of course. She always did. But for now her role was to annotate any immediate changes to the facilities and pass her findings up her chain.
He had thought the mountain was the last invitation he would receive. But a year after that, he opened the crisp off white envelope and read, with increasing interest the memo inside. He immediately rung the number on the card and agreed to try this one out.
Six months later, he arrived at a small facility outside of Reno, Nevada. This was the first time these trips had started outside of Europe and even though he asked, no satisfying answer had been put forward. He had significant doubts that the Americans would even allow something like this to take place, much less take place on their territory.
He was led into a nondescript building in the desert which was at least an hour from anywhere, or so the rather accented man who led him in said. He was convivial and far more friendly than the people he had dealt with in the past. Whenever he tried to ask about the woman he had dealt with before, or any of the other people who had overseen previous versions of these facilities, the convivial man offered no answer. Simply a blank expression before moving onto his next friendly banter, as if he was only allowed to say certain things.
Some time later, he was led into what looked like a giant cylinder dug into the ground. He recognised it as a silo for some type of missile, but there was currently no missile here. The other man led him to an elevator which took them both all the way down to the bottom, a ride of almost five whole minutes.
At the bottom was the woman he knew but no one else. The convivial man didnt leave the elevator, instead closing the door and heading back up. He watched the elevator rise into the strange darkness and turned to face the woman who offered no answer to his questions and led him into a familiar grey booth, just the right size for a single man. He stripped to his bodysuit and entered the booth. He felt the warm gel at his feet and wriggled himself into the correct position. She came over and lowered the mask over his eyes and nose, and he felt the usual array of sensors and probes attach themselves to his face.
She gave him the thumbs up which he returned. She brought the hatch down over him and sealed it closed.
The gel surrounded him and he felt it tighten against his body in that familiar way. The mask over his eyes flashed its usual sequence of lights and he felt pushed forward into a haze of out of body experiences as everything formed around him.
He stepped out of a door and into bright sunlight. Covering his eyes, he saw the words ALPHA BUILD in the sky above him. As his eyes acclimated to the sun, he looked up at his experience and was blown away at what he saw. About a kilometre away was what looked like a Saturn V rocket ready for launch.