With the tower gone, Daniel had a better view of the medical center.
The place was big. Staggeringly big.
Humboldt Sector Hospital had been 50,000 square miles of sprawling medical complex, and if Daniel’s estimate was right, this room could swallow all of Humbolt and easily have space left over for the 250-mile asteroid that Humboldt had been built on.
Without his measuring app (which the augmem had managed), he knew his estimate could be wrong. But that didn’t change the fact that the place was large.
So large he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him – until he remembered that since their most recent firmware update, his eyes couldn't … at least not intentionally.
The floor behind him seemed like it went on forever and with his magnification on absolute maximum he could see that the floor slowly curved upward before becoming the walls and eventually the ceiling. It was as if someone had hollowed out a pearl the size of a moon and filled it with medical tech.
Daniel hoped it was medical tech.
For all he knew, the random assemblages of metal, ceramic, plastic, and organic tissue that dotted the curving ground could be the ship’s creators.
He moved closer to one of the small installations, a pile of interconnected electronics covered with glowing screens and what appeared to be several small organs floating in clear containers.
“Hello?” he said, trying to initiate contact.
“Yes?” said the Tour Guide.
“Not you,” Daniel said, and reached out his hand to see if the pile would react.
“Please don't touch the equipment,” the Tour Guide said.