Tooth fairy

 “This is… not what I was expecting.”  Bill, gentleman thief, ran a finger over a stainless steel surface, which squeaked.  Around him the steel ran to the walls and then up it until it reached the ceiling which was a bright, freshly painted white.  Fluorescent tubes provided light from the ceiling, flicker-free and brilliant.  When he looked down at the tiled, polished floor the lights tried to dazzle him in reflection and his shadow was nowhere to be seen.

“What were you expecting?”  Ben, also a gentleman thief and dressed like a racecourse tout in a tweed three-piece suit, a cerise shirt and a monocle on a black ribbon, was tapping on the screen on his phone and looking annoyed.

“I don’t know, exactly,” said Bill thoughtfully.  “I mean, whenever Mac talks about her he mentions a run-down market with streets filled with rubbish and human detritus and it sounds like she’s only a day away from turning to prostitution.”

Ben looked up and his startlement was profound.  He looked like someone had just tried to ask for their money back.  “Mac sees the world very differently,” he said.  “I’m pretty sure he’s got a pocket universe going on there, to be honest, though I’ve got no idea how you’d prove that.”

“Yeah?”  Bill scuffed a shoe on the floor, trying to create a dark spot.  The floor squeaked and resisted.  “So this is the real one that we’re visiting then?”

“I have no idea which is the real one,” said Ben.  “If there is even such a thing.  They might all be shadows of an archetype, cast through into our reality by a light so bright we can’t imagine it.”

Bill smiled.  “You’ve been on those mushrooms again, haven’t you?” he said.  “I’m sure I told you they were a bad idea.”

Ben smiled as well.  “No, no mushrooms,” he said.  “I think your last girlfriend took them with her when she left.  Right, according to the map, which I have to say I’m not sure we can trust, there should be a door over there.”  He pointed at a stainless steel wall.  “I just can’t figure out how we can see it to open it.”

Glad of something to do that wasn’t looking around a gigantic sterile room, Bill walked over to the wall.  His feet squeaked softly on the floor as he did and he tried not to show his irritation.  “If they ever get mice in here they’ll never be able to find them,” he said as he got close enough to the wall to press his nose up against it.  “Hmm.  There’s a hair-thin crack here, you know.  Could be a very-snugly fit door.  Or could just be a trap.”

“Probably not a trap,” said Ben.  “Wrong set up for that.  Or rather, wrong kind of trap.  I’d expect nitrous oxide filled rooms, or something amusing with a hammer.”

“Amusing with a hammer?”  Bill slowly crouched as he scrutinized the hairline crack in the wall.  “A squeaky hammer?”

“Well, amusing might depend on the perspective.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.  Right, have you got a hairpin, please, mate?”

Ben dipped a hand into a pocket.  “No,” he said, “but there’s this pin thing that came with this piece-of-shit phone.  Sim-card extractor or whatever they call it.”

“Good enough,” said Bill.  “Just need to wiggle it in… here.”  He did something, obscured by his body, and there was a tiny click.  “Right,” he said quietly, and leaned his body on the wall, stretching his hands out as though trying to read the bumps on someone’s skull.  “Just need… to….”  There was another click, a little louder, and suddenly the wall swung inwards.  Bill toppled forwards and landed on his face with another squeak.

“Was that you or the floor?” asked Ben.

“Ha.  Ha.”  Bill pushed himself back up and looked through the doorway.  A stainless steel corridor led into darkness.  “Does this remind you of a rat?” he said.

“Get up,” said Ben.  “And no.  Pretty sure that’s still under copyright too, so keep those ideas to yourself.”

They walked through the doorway, unworried about it closing behind them, and a light flickered on overhead, then stabilised into the sterile white glare of the previous room.  As they proceeded down the corridor the lights in front of them came on and the lights behind them turned off.  Bill looked round once and shrugged.

“I feel like we’re expected,” he said.

“No,” said Ben.  “It’s easier to automate these things.  There’re probably sensors in the light fittings that detect motion.  Or maybe heat.  More likely heat actually.”

“What kind of things come in here that don’t move?”

Ben thought about that for a few seconds.  “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Bill thought about that for approximately as long.  “It is now,’ he said.  Then, “Just heat?  Or lack of it too?”

“Changes in ambient heat, I should think.”

“And is it just me, or is this corridor too long?”

“I think we’re back into pocket universe territory,” said Ben.  “But that looks like a door up ahead.”  He pointed and two lights came on in front of them to illuminate a large steel door set into the wall.  There was a grille in the door at head-height but the bars were so tightly meshed that neither of them could see through it.  The door opened at a touch though, swinging inwards with a squeak.

“Now that’s just sarcastic,” said Ben, walking through.  Inside the room was a desk, a chair, and a terminal: a keyboard with a flat-screen monitor.  Otherwise the room was steel, clean, and empty.

Bill stood in the doorway, preventing the door from closing.

“Not coming in?” said Ben, sitting him at the desk and pulling the keyboard in front of him.

“I think this door might not open again if we let it close,” said Bill.  “It’s how I’d set things up anyway.  Plus, only one of us needs to ask the questions.”

“True,” said Ben.  He pressed the spacebar and the monitor lit up.  “Start with greetings, or cut to the chase?”  He poised his fingers over the keyboard like a competitive typist.

“Cut to the chase,” said Bill.  “The tooth-fairy AI probably doesn’t have much in the way of small talk anyway.  Just ask it where the teeth are.”