novelraw Act 3, Chapter 14: The Hoppers
Act 3, Chapter 14: The Hoppers
Day in the story: 5th January (Monday), around 9.30 a.m.“Didn’t you tell me before that it would take around two months to make it all work?” I asked Sophie between munching on a fresh carrot.
“Normally, yes. Initial filing takes around seven days, and even with an extra fee it would be, at best, two days of time. Then there’s a publication requirement. We’d have to make a public notice of formation for six weeks, and only then would we be able to file for the Certificate of Publication, which adds another six to eight weeks depending on the whims of the great and mighty clerk who gets our case. Then the EIN for the IRS takes a few more days on top of that. So yes. A pretty long time.”
“Is this the Sophie-is-a-mage moment?” I asked when the carrot was gone.
My muscles ached a bit. I was spending every moment I could spare fighting in Ideworld, exploring the jungle, or painting. Mostly painting these days, since it proved to be a good change of pace for both my body and my mind. But last night I’d gone back to the concrete jungle to see if I could find a new opponent. No such luck.
“No. It’s much simpler than that. I already had a company registered under my name. It was idle. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, but since I was studying business, I figured I might as well. All I did was update it with the necessary information and change the name. Hoppers LLC is operational, Alexa. Since the second actually. I wanted to tell you once everything with the name was done, but I already had an office for us, an accountant, and a secretary hired before we went on the trip to Paris. That container you wanted is waiting for you too, ready at the port.”
“That’s fantastic news! I will need a second one too.” I exclaimed, taking another carrot from the counter. “Any mention of Jess Hare?”
“Not yet. I’m the sole member for now, and the manager.” She said and took a deeper breath. “I will get the second one for you too and no, I am not going to ask why.”
“Good. Leave it that way. I want you to hire me as Gertrude Monkey.”
“Does she exist in the legal system?”
“No. Not yet. I’ll ask Thomas to help me with that. For now, I’ll be a silent partner.”
“Would you like to come to the office?”
“Of course, let me just change into miss Monkey first.” I replied, while moving away from our dining table and into my room.
**********
“Any news from Nickolas?” I asked, looking at an old can of Coke, squashed and lying in the corner of the wagon we were on. The metro sped toward our destination as we both sat in our seats.
“Not from him directly. He’s still in the Domain, undergoing the process of retrieving his other soul from the crystal. This version is supposedly more difficult than taking a fragment of the core and calling it a day. It requires him to be taken care of inside.”
“Yeah. I think he shouldn’t have done that, but on the other hand, I’d probably do the same in his place.”
“I know you would. Ariana is giving me updates now and then as she leaves and enters the Domain. He’s stubborn and dedicated, just like you. I kind of understand why he’s doing it, but at the same time, I wish it wasn’t so risky.”
“What about you? Are you satisfied right now? With your life.”
“Despite my boyfriend being on death row? Yeah, I am. For a long time, since I learned about you, I wished to be special too. To be so dedicated to something that the universe would reward me with absolute control over it. Now? Now I feel like it was never meant to be. I see it in you and in him. And in Peter too. All of you are so keen on being these grand magicians that everything else takes a backseat, and I’d never be able to do that.”
“It’s not a backseat, Soph. I still care about you and my friends above anything else.”
“Would you give up your power for me?” she asked, and my body jolted as if hit by an electric shock.
“I feel like that’s an unfair question. Setting you or others as a priority doesn’t mean I have to give up on everything else, right?”
She exhaled. “Yes. You’re right. I’m a bit bitter, because in his case it might be literal everything he throws away for the sake of trying to get something else. I can be jaded about that.”
“I think I would, though.”
“Would what?”
“I would give up my power if it meant saving your life. And don’t get me wrong, Soph. I love you more than anyone else in the world besides Peter. I just think I would do this. And not because of me, but because of this other Alexa that floods my soul with her own worldview on a regular basis.”
“You can know now who is doing the feeling? I remember you said—”
“Yeah, no. I’m not sure. It’s like in both cases I am me, but the only difference is that for one set of values I have memories that confirm they should be there, and for the other I don’t. Does that make sense?”
“It does,” she replied, standing up. “Our destination. Come.”
**********
We arrived at the office in Brooklyn by the bay about forty minutes later. A newly built building that already managed to look pretty old, all due to the fashionable lack of style of its designer. Simple bricks mixed with metal railings and mass-produced windows. To the credit of whoever decided this monster was ready to face the light of day, those windows were big enough to let it shine through with enough intensity to forget that such an awful exterior existed on the other side.
Inside, though, illuminated by that light, it was not bad. Not bad at all.
I stood in a warm, carefully designed lounge that felt both modern and quietly luxurious. Soft light filtered down from a patterned ceiling, casting an even glow over pale wood floors and muted textures. In front of me, low modular sofas in deep green and cream were arranged around small black tables, inviting people to sit, talk, or simply pause.
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To my left, a long communal table stretched beneath a series of rounded arches set into the wall. The arches were lined with ribbed wood and backed by cushioned seating in earthy red tones, giving the space a rhythm and a sense of calm enclosure. Small plants rested along the table, adding a touch of life without breaking the restrained elegance.
Ahead of me, glass doors framed with dark metal opened into more private rooms. Through them, I could see shelves, desks, and soft seating, spaces meant for focused work or quiet conversations. A circular sign on the wall read “The Hoppers,” glowing gently, as if marking the heart of the place.
I felt Sophie’s hand in everything. The balance between openness and privacy. The mix of soft fabrics and hard surfaces. The way the space encouraged both community and solitude. I had the impression of being somewhere designed not just to be used, but to be experienced slowly.
“You like it?” she asked, as my gaze wandered toward the opposite wall, fully adorned with hanging plant life, reminiscent of our own living room, only grander and somehow still sublime.
“It’s amazing,” I answered, taking careful note of the only other person inside the place. He watched us with cautious eyes from behind the desk at the front. Sophie greeted him when we entered, but his name slipped my mind at first, lost in the awe the interior stirred in me. It was my second-memory brain that filled in the gap a moment later. “Hello, Max. Nice to meet you.” I extended my hand toward him, trying to put him at ease. He’d been nervous, but patient, waiting to see how this would play out.
“Max Remington,” he said, taking my hand. His eyes flicked toward Sophie with a hint of caution.
“Oh, don’t be so stiff,” I told him, letting go. “My name is Gertrude Monkey. You can call me Gert, or Trudy, or whatever you like. I’ll be working here with you.”
He was a young man, maybe a bit older than us, with softer features than what people usually called handsome, but well built in a way that suggested he took good care of himself. He dressed elegantly and smartly, but comfortably, sports shoes instead of formal boots. No facial hair. Short blond hair. A burn scar ran around his neck and up toward his right ear. He didn’t try to hide it. I liked that.
“No, she’s most likely not going to work here,” Sophie corrected me. “She’s here under different rules than you or me, Max.”
“What?” I asked.
“It’s true. You’ll be working mostly in the field, doing what you know how to do best, while we deal with the clients.”
“That doesn’t mean I won’t visit from time to time.”
“I understand now, Miss deLonge,” Max answered. “I found what you asked me to look out for.”
“Great. Bring it to the conference room.” Sophie motioned for me to follow her, and I did. Max went back behind the desk to prepare something while we walked.
I moved close behind her and whispered right into her ear.
“Is he an ex-military?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“He understands a clear structure of command, doesn’t hide his scar, stands straight, and waits for his turn. He’s ready to run as well—or whatever you need from him.”
“Yes. I wanted someone who could at least try to protect me in here if the situation required it. It’s a bodyguard-slash-secretary position,” she answered, sitting down.
“Does he know what kind of clients we’ll be dealing with in here?”
“Not specifically, but I don’t rule out informing him once I know him a bit better.”
“Good call,” I said, watching Max walk into the conference room.
The room that carried the same quiet sophistication as the rest of the office, but with a stronger sense of calm. The space felt enclosed yet breathable. A long table anchored the room with its smooth, uninterrupted resin surface, surrounded by upholstered chairs in soft, neutral tones.
Along one entire wall, a living installation of green plants rose from floor to ceiling, just like in the main room. The foliage was dense and carefully curated—broad leaves, trailing vines, and subtle variations of green that softened the room and absorbed sound. The air itself seemed cooler and cleaner there, carrying a faint, natural freshness.
The lighting was indirect and warm, recessed into the ceiling so that nothing glared or distracted. Reflections were minimal; even the glass surfaces were treated to avoid harsh shine. Screens and technology were present but discreet, integrated into the design rather than dominating it.
While Sophie took the helm position at the top of the table, Max sat close to her, leaving two chairs empty. I sat directly opposite Sophie. The man placed his laptop on the table, connecting it with a cable to a port built into the tabletop, unlocking it by pulling a small rubber insert from the opening.
After that, he swiped across his screen, and the images appeared on the large wall opposite him. It was a presentation for a company called DigiMaps, and according to the slogan beneath the brand, they promised the most detailed scanning and modeling on this side of the continent.
“I approached this project knowing it would be large in both scale and logistics, so I broke the costs down from start to finish. Scanning would be first. That one scan would cost about 1,200.
Next would be 3D sculpting and digital modifications. From that single scan, I could commission extensive sculpting work to create nine distinct human models. Each one would require anatomical changes, pose adjustments, and preparation for printing, as well as engineering an internal armature so the figures could stand safely at full scale. On average, the sculpting and technical prep run between 1,800 and 2,500 per model, putting the total sculpting cost for the nine humans at roughly 20,000.
Then the two small pet models, both designed completely from scratch with no scanning involved. Each pet requires concept work, full digital sculpting, and print-ready preparation. Those came out to about 1,000 per pet, so 2,000 total for the pet modeling.”
“Would they be able to do one bigger model from scratch as well?” I interrupted him. The man was well prepared.
“How big are you talking about, Trudy?” he answered. “I have reference tables for materials and conceptual work from them.”
“Let’s say a centaur-sized.”
“The what?” Sophie muttered.
“Let me calculate,” Max said and focused on his work. He typed something into the computer, scrolled through the table a few times, and inserted the numbers into an Excel sheet he had prepared.
“Based on the assumed size of a human-on-horse-scale figure that would also be required to be designed entirely from scratch—because of its size and complexity, it requires structural engineering, segmentation planning, and reinforced internal support. The digital design and prep for that single large model would cost about 3,500.”
“Seems fine,” I confirmed.
“After the digital work, they would follow up with 3D printing. Printing nine life-size human figures in sections, using durable materials suitable for assembly, would cost between 2,500 and 3,500 per figure, depending on material use and print time. That puts the human printing costs at approximately 27,000 total.”
“I want them as quickly as possible.”
“That’s what Miss deLonge tasked me to calculate, but I wanted to mention that it’s possible to lower the cost without rushing.”
“We will do rushing,” Sophie said, looking at me.
“Then I will mention the difference at the end. The two pet models are smaller but still detailed; printing and basic assembly for them comes to about 1,500 each, or 3,000 total.
The large human-and-horse-scale model would be the most expensive to fabricate. Printing oversized parts and reinforcing them structurally would cost around 8,000.
Once printing is done, I had to account for assembly and internal armature installation. Some of this was bundled into the print costs, but additional labor would bring the total assembly work across all pieces to roughly 5,000.
At the end, I had to plan for transportation. Moving multiple life-size figures in New York—”
“Transportation will not be necessary. I will deal with it myself. I just want them to set everything up in some hall so I can pick it all up.”
“Affirmative. Let me recalculate quickly,” he said and input some changes into his table. “When totaled—scanning, sculpting, engineering, printing, and assembly—with painting and transportation excluded, the full project comes out to approximately 80,000–85,000 USD, depending on final material choices and handling requirements.”
“Time frame?”
“That’s their biggest selling point. They have new printing technology that shortens the usual timelines. Printing and assembly would take the longest. Every company I inquired with gave me a three-month time frame. DigiMaps assumes it could be done in about a week, with their team and technology, if we triple the sum I’ve just given you.”
“So around 240,000?”
“Yes,” he answered, and I looked at Sophie to confirm that it was okay with me.
“Call them. Make an appointment for scanning today, at their earliest available time.” She said.