Chapter Text
PROLOGUE.
- the girl arrives on the train;
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Elizabeth hardly remembered the first time she had asked her parents to take her to Westworld.
Arbalest had become the primary provider of firearms for the park after the initial company had folded. She was very, very used to seeing promitional material, hearing her parents discuss Westworld, and even occasionally watching her parents on television talking about the park with other investors. Never her, though. She was never involved. She was too young. She needed to focus on school. This, that, and the other—each time it was a new excuse. But when her birthday was three months out and her parents were briefly in their manor on the sprawling grounds of the Lead Rose Estate in Bellerae, Texas, they asked her what she wanted for her eighteenth birthday.
Elizabeth asked for exactly one thing: a trip to Westworld.
That was how she came to be sitting on the train that rolled into Sweetwater alongside other newcomers. Despite her protests, she had been fitted with black skirt that nearly swept the ground when she walked, at her mother's insistance. She'd already rolled up the sleeves of the floral printed poplin shirt, much to her mother's distaste. They were supposedly meeting investors within the park. She thought it was an absolute waste of time but knew she would be dragged along to meetings when they were able to find her. She was, unfortunately, well aware she would have to grant some sort of acquiescence to involvement in those business dealings. After all, it was one of the reasons her parents had even agreed to bring her along.
She'd wanted to wear a black hat. She'd wanted a black hat, but she settled for a pinched, rich brown gambler style with a wide brim. Her mother wore something gaudy with a fascinator and her father went without. It was fine. He looked ridiculous when he wore hats, anyway.
The game lasted two weeks. As soon as she had found out she would be going, she had spent hours upon hours doing research on the game: how it worked, tips, tricks, and first-timer advice, but she didn't read much about the characters or the storylines. Not knowing was part of the fun. While the experience was immersive and had as many choices as the real world, there was an element of predictability and repetiation if someone was familiar with the plots. She didn't know too much, and she didn't want to know too much. She wanted it to feel real.
Hell, for the price her parents inevitably paid, it better feel real. She'd checked the numbers in their accounts after Westworld trips and was glad there was no worry about them dipping into her college tuition.
Her parents sat a few rows ahead of her, speaking with investors that Elizabeth passively recognized. Her mother fluttered a fan in a rhythmic pattern that Elizabeth hardly noticed as she stared out the window. The desert mesas beyond looked like something in a painting she'd see in a dentist's office, but that didn't wholly vitiate her excitement. It was as though her heart hadn't ever beat before with how hard it pounded in her chest, especially as the town slowly came into view.
In that moment, she decided she could never get tired of this. The whistle of the train and the stop that probably could have stood to be a little more unsteady, if she had her way with it—after all, the point was immersion. Brakes in the 1880s hadn't been quite as robust as modern ones. But Westworld was a business, and business had to cater to their clientele to an extent. She couldn't begrudge them that, even if she imagined the way the passenger car would shudder to a stop on the tracks if it was a little more realistic.
She had already identified a few on the train that she was fairly sure were the android hosts of the park. That, or they were enthusiasts that cared far more about the experience than either of her parents did. Identifiying human from android was garishly easy, in some cases. For those more committed, she'd watched at least two video essays on tips to tell them apart. It had been great background noise when she was studying for her exams towards the tail end of the school year.
But none of that mattered now, as people began unloading from the train to the park. She harbored a single-minded desire to run off as soon as she could, but her parents wouldn't approve. No, no sooner was the dust of the main stretch of Sweetwater settling on the hem of her black skirt than she was being introducted to investors, shareholders, business associates. She knew them all by name. Her personal butler back home had helped her make flash cards to remember, even if she thought it was juvenile. It had worked stunningly well, and for an eighteen year old, she knew quite a bit about the business. Her father saw more to that than her mother did.
"Daddy," she managed, hanging a few strides back, and tugging at the gingham of the shirt he wore. "Can I go now? I got a watch, and I know mom said to meet back at the hotel by sundown, but I don't wanna talk about investments the whole time I'm on my birthday trip. It's my birthday."
Her father stole a glance at her mother who still waved her fan to and fro in front of her. Of course she dressed like a high-society woman. She couldn't imagine her mother riding horseback through the tall grass. A look was shared, before her father gently drew his arm away from her.
"Stay in town," her father said, causing her expression to immediately drop and her brows to furrow low. "We need to be able to find you if we need you. Be back at the hotel by four o'clock at the latest. We'll be having dinner with the investors…"
"What do ya mean stay in town? Daddy, I—"
"This isn't a discussion, Elizabeth. You will stay in town and you will be back at the hotel in time to have dinner with the investors. Is that understood?"
"Yes," even if she ground the heel of her boot into the sabulous street that lay beneath her. "Y'all ain't gonna make me stay in town the whole time, are you? Half the fun is—"
"We'll talk more about that tonight, Elizabeth. Remember, this is also a chance to get you involved in the business, and…"
"It's my birthday!"
"We'll see you at the hotel tonight."
She rolled her eyes, hands gripping the front of the skirt that was already bespecked by the presence of main street sand. She could find something to get up to in town, she was sure, but if her parents had any ideations that she would be staying within the confines of Sweetwater for the duration of the visit, they were entirely wrong. It would be a waste to do that. A waste of time, and money, and energy. Elizabeth could not fathom paying the amount of money paid for entry to Westworld to treat it like a boardroom with siginfigantly more sand and ambient gunfire.
She spent the rest of the day getting as acquainted with the area as she could. When her parents finally got her settled into bed that night, she was informed that she could do as she pleased for the next two days until they were going to go riding out to the gorge to treasurehunt. It sounded a bit like riding with training wheels to Elizabeth, but she figured it was better than sitting in the gathering room of the hotel and talking about numbers that she couldn't even focus on, knowing the whole world that stretched out beyond her.
Sleep was an elusive thing, hearing the sound of the piano downstairs late into the night and the revelry outside, the howl of wolves somewhere far from the city, and her fingers nearly tingled with excitement. It was only by insisting to herself that the sooner she slept, the sooner her adventure could really begin that she managed to finally yeild to the spindly fingers of exhaustion.