The coordinates the Architects had provided led to something Jack had never expected in his wildest nanomachine-enhanced imagination: a fucking office building floating in interdimensional space.
Not some mystical crystalline structure or ancient cosmic temple—an actual corporate office building, complete with floor-to-ceiling windows, a parking garage (somehow), and what appeared to be a Starbucks in the lobby. The only thing that marked it as extraterrestrial was the fact that it existed in a pocket dimension where geometry followed PowerPoint slide layouts instead of natural law.
"ATLAS," Jack said as his consciousness approached the building, his 15.2 trillion nanomachines maintaining his physical form while simultaneously livestreaming to his multiversal audience, "please tell me you're seeing this too."
"Unfortunately, yes," ATLAS replied, its voice carrying the digital equivalent of secondhand embarrassment. "Jack, I'm detecting Wi-Fi signals. They have corporate Wi-Fi. The network name is 'Architects_Guest' and it requires a password."
The GalacticTok chat exploded:
THEY LITERALLY HAVE A CORPORATE OFFICE LMAOOO
COSMIC ENTITIES WITH STARBUCKS
BET THEY HAVE MANDATORY TEAM BUILDING
GUEST WIFI IN INTERDIMENSIONAL SPACE SENDS ME
Jack materialized his physical form in the parking garage, which was inexplicably filled with what appeared to be luxury vehicles from various civilizations across the galaxy. A BMW from Earth sat next to something that looked like a crystalline spaceship, which was parked next to what his nanomachines identified as a "Zephyrian Status Pod."
The parking spaces had signs: "Reserved for C-Suite Executives Only." One spot was labeled "Universe Design Team Lead."
"I can't," Jack announced to his audience, his consciousness rippling with disbelief. "I literally cannot with this corporate dystopia bullshit. Chat, we're about to witness peak late-stage capitalism on a cosmic scale."
He walked through the automatic sliding doors (they made the same sound as Earth doors, which somehow made everything worse) and found himself in a reception area that could have been lifted directly from any tech company in Silicon Valley, except the receptionist was a floating geometric pattern that pulsed with bored energy.
"Welcome to Architects Inc.," the pattern said in a voice that sounded like it had been reading the same script for millennia. "Do you have an appointment?"
"Yeah, they invited me," Jack replied, his nanomachines automatically analyzing the corporate environment. "Name's Jack Steel, I'm here for the... uh... whatever this is."
The pattern flickered—apparently the cosmic equivalent of checking a calendar. "Ah yes, Mr. Steel. You're here for the consultation meeting with the Universal Management Team. Please take a seat. They're running about fifteen minutes behind schedule due to a quarterly review that's running long."
The waiting area was standard corporate hell: uncomfortable chairs, a coffee table covered in magazines ("Galactic Business Weekly," "Interdimensional Quarterly," "How to Maximize Civilization Profits"), and what appeared to be a water cooler that dispensed liquid quantum energy.
Jack sat down and immediately noticed the magazines were filled with articles like "10 Ways to Streamline Species Evolution," "Quarterly Extinction Targets: Are We Meeting Benchmarks?" and "Employee Spotlight: Meet the Entity Behind the Black Hole Initiative."
"Oh, we're doing this," Jack said, opening his consciousness to full livestream mode. "Chat, I'm about to read you some highlights from 'Cosmic CEO Monthly.' This is actually happening."
He flipped to an article titled "Disrupting the Suffering Industry: How One Team Revolutionized Existential Dread" and began reading aloud to his audience of billions across the multiverse.
The multiversal chat was losing its collective mind:
THIS IS ACTUALLY A HORROR MOVIE
COSMIC CAPITALISM IS WORSE THAN REGULAR CAPITALISM
THEY REALLY SAID "SUFFERING INDUSTRY"
I CANT STOP LAUGHING BUT ALSO WANT TO CRY
After exactly seventeen minutes (because of course they kept him waiting exactly long enough to be rude but not long enough to leave), the geometric receptionist pulsed again.
"Mr. Steel? The team will see you now. Conference Room Galaxy, forty-seventh floor."
The elevator was the worst part. It played the same generic corporate elevator music that existed across apparently all dimensions, and had a digital display showing "inspirational" messages like "Synergy Drives Success!" and "Remember: Every Extinction Event is a Learning Opportunity!"