It is said that everyone gets what they need in the Endless City; that there is no poverty, no hunger, no need for theft or violence. It is true that the City is in a unique position in regards to an energy source, being fueled entirely by psionic power, in some cases even unwitting. It wasn't much different from the principle that governs some fantasy kingdoms; that a place needs only to be believed in to be real. In the Endless City, things needed to be believed with sufficuent force by people who possessed a talent for it. People were the City's one true resource, so it was certainly true that there was a place for everyone. Perhaps the lack of poverty was only a form of safekeeping for those who needed to believe in their freedom.

Valerie was one such person, and if people were resources, a fortune was devoted to keeping her world subtly enclosed, Truman-Show-like. Her apartment was large and airy, with special attention devoted to her particular interests. The sound system was state-of-the-art, the bathroom had a shower/tub that was fantastical in its proportions, the VR suit thorough and realistic. Valerie even had and practiced on a bass guitar, which she didn't play in the outside world.

The apartment was simple to maintain - Valerie did most of the upkeep herself. The energy required for four-or-so roomsful of gadgets, furniture, plumbing, and foodstuffs was practically negligible. The books and music required a little more effort, but on the whole needed very little maintenance because for the most part they existed in the outside world Valerie was used to.

Such things were as plentiful in the City as salt water in a seaside town, so the City council was able to make their claims about 0% poverty.

But the true measure of wealth was friends (even enemies, acquaintances), and freedom, or similar intangibles. Information was valuable enough to be hoarded like gold. Although a fortune of these things were spent on Valerie, she had little of them for herself. She was practically friendless, limited to chance encounters with strangers, half of which always seemed to end in sex. (This too served its purpose; it was easy for Valerie to believe she was only daydreaming if her encounters were so predictable, reasonable.) And while Valerie had never noticed, she was a prisoner. Her cage was portable, watched-over, and all the more complete for its unobtrusiveness.

For a vivid daydream, the world she was allowed to live in was pretty good, escapism at its finest. She could taste the food, feel the textures, immerse herself in sensation. Often, especially when she was making an effort to participate actively in the outside world, the memories of her experiences in the City did not stay with her, at least not consciously. Lately, she remembered everything. And the City council was worried about the implications of this.

Council was a polite way of putting it though, a euphemism. Doran thought of the organization he worked for as the Red Court, which for all he knew was another euphemism. He wasn't fooling himself that he was anywhere near the bottom layer, if there even was one. He suspected at times that the layering system was an endless loop, repeating with new shades of meaning every time you thought you had the real thing.

Sometimes he envied people like Valerie who had their invisible prisons. He had more freedom and connections, but not the same degree of choice. Valerie, were she to take up a hobby or job in the City, would be doing it because she felt like it. He had the ultimate in job security: the only reason he existed was to fulfill the miscellaneous intelligence and security operations that fell to him, and to scour the City for problems even on his own time. Valerie might have had less choice than she knew about the matter, but illusions were almost always comforting. He could have done with a few more illusions, himself.

He sipped a latté he'd just purchased at an autocafe, scanning the street up and down, eagle-eyed out of habit. It seemed unusually quiet; a sense of quiet fear perhaps, anticipation. Enough of the City was aware of the current outside situation to be wary. It'd be a busy week.

Doran was hopeful after the intake interview, though. It sounded as if the hospital was as interested as Valerie was in getting her processed and out of there. If she only managed to get it together and tell the doctors what they wanted to hear, she'd be out of there tomorrow, and maybe she wouldn't encounter the Red Court at all.

Wishful thinking, maybe, but the mind had a lot of power in the City.