Holographic Dreams

This is my entry to the Inspired By Images Of Eve Competition 2. More details and links to all entrants can be found at Starfleet Comms

Holographic Dreams

I looked down from my corporate office into the station hangar below. “Yeah, a little to the right,” the holographer’s voice crackled through the comlink on my desk. The Taranis frigate hovered slightly to the right. The hologram that was simulating a warp field around the ship wavered with the motion, casting flickers of golden light around the hangar. When the holoreel stabilized, he checked his instruments, scratched his tangled hair with his neatly chewed nails, and then cleaned some wax out of his ear.

The man looked like a chubby Tim Burton, well at least like the 2-D images I saw of him in old holoreels. Who would have ever thought that the director’s biggest flop, Planet of the Apes, would have helped Dillan Stanshurn diagnose and solve the time dilation issues in engaging a warp drive? Who knows, maybe this strange little holographer capturing my Taranis might one day be the inspiration for solving Capsuleer lag.

The holographer nodded at his twelve assistants. A vibrato hum filled the space, as the giant holopresses revved up.

I averted my eyes, but the flash of light from the holopresses’ spatial capture pierced my tightly shut lids, and for a moment I was blinded. When I opened my eyes, the hangar swam back into focus.

The holographer looked into a screen and then grabbed a small pad and came running up to my office.

“Well?” I asked.

“I think we got it,” he said handing me the pad.

I pushed the display button on the pad and immediately a miniature Taranis sprang off the pad highlighted by the brilliance of its tiny holographic sun. I rotated the pad in every direction I could studying the ship from every angle. “It looks good,” I said handing the pad back. I turned to my assistant and said, “pull up CDC’s market channel. Let’s get a billboard up in every major stargate in Gallante space. We’ve got 1,000 ships cluttering up our hangars in 12 systems, and I want them moved by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir,” my assistant scuttled off to place the order for ad space.

I took a sip of my Amarrian coffee. It cost a pretty ISK, but it was certainly better than the drek served in Gallante space. I quickly calculated the cost of production, tax, advertising, and shipping, the bean-counter cyber implants doing their share of the math. “This wouldn’t be a bad haul,” I thought. Especially once I had the goofy holographer ejected into space.

Well . . . at least that’s what I’d like to do for the ISK he was charging.

I stood up from behind my desk and tapped the comlink. “Okay, let’s bring in the Caldari Drake, and for goodness sake can we dim the light on this warp holoreel. It’s like looking into the eyes of my wife when she walks into a jewelry shop.

The room immediately fell silent, and the goofy-looking holographer’s eyes widened. Normally a look like that on a face like his would have made me roar with laughter, but just then, I caught my wife’s reflection in the glass, standing behind me self-consciously caressing what looked to be a brand new megacyte necklace.

“Her beautiful, bright eyes when she sees a necklace that she absolutely deserves, but that always pales in comparison to her beauty,” I quickly corrected, while my implants calculated the markup on the Drakes I’d need to not end up sleeping in my pod tonight. I guess I’ll be selling those at a mission hub.