My shoulders relax as my heart rate drops. I did not realize how much I clenched my jaw until the tension begins to fade.
Reid stops near a large, curved black reception desk where three other men wait to greet us. A wave of dizziness hits me as I look at them. They stand in a loose line, a wall of charcoal fabric and light blonde hair. They all possess the same height, the same coloring, and the same quiet intensity. It’s a lot for my brain to take in at once, but I can’t let it show.
He points to a sleek, floor-to-ceiling glass display glowing next to the desk. “We assign a dedicated task force to our residents. You can see your primary contacts listed here.”
Under the logo for the complex, the screen displays four names in a clean, professional font:
ReidHarris (Management)
UrieOliver (Medical)
SawyerMorgan (Security)
EthanEmerson (IT Support)
Reid gestures to the first man, who stands with a broad, muscular build near the elevator banks. His blonde hair is cropped close to his skull. “Sawyer heads our security team. You will see him or his team members patrolling the common areas and monitoring the exterior feeds.”
Sawyer gives a stiff, polite nod. I notice the rigid line of his shoulders and the way he stands perfectly still, almost like a soldier on guard.
Reid moves his hand toward the second man sitting behind a complex array of monitors at the desk. He looks younger, with nimble fingers that dance across a keyboard. “Ethan handles our internal systems and technical support. If your smart-home interface has a glitch, he is the one who fixes it.”
Ethan looks up and flashes a quick, boyish grin. It looks like he might have long hair, as he wears a messy man-bun at the back of his head. He returns to his screens, his left hand tapping a constant, restless rhythm on the desk.
Finally, Reid points to the man standing near a glass-walled office. He wears a clean white doctor’s coat over his charcoal uniform. A silver stethoscope hangs around his neck, the metal glinting under the lobby lights. “And Urie is our on-site medical specialist. He assists with cycle-tracking and wellness checks. Here for if you have any complications with your Heat. He also has a large team under him on rotation to make sure all our residents are cared for. “
Urie offers a calm, reassuring smile. His blonde hair is styled in a unique, sharp undercut with the longer top section swept back in precise ridges. Thin, silver wire-frame glasses sit on the bridge of his nose.
Reid turns away from the desk and gestures toward a frosted glass door on the far side of the lobby. “We prioritize the reduction of external stress for our residents. We provide several on-site amenities to limit the need for travel.”
He walks toward a small hallway. “The spa offers massage therapy and skincare treatments. Like the rest of the staff, every provider is a vetted Beta.”
I glance at the camera, widening my eyes for the audience. “A private spa. I am starting to think I might never leave the first floor.”
Reid stops in front of a modern, minimalist cafe booth tucked into a quiet corner. A row of tea canisters sits on a wooden shelf behind the counter where a barista stands. She smiles and waves at the camera. “ Hello, nice to meet you. My name is Heather and I’m one of the baristas who run the cafe. The cafe is complimentary for all residents and stays open from eight in the morning until nine at night.”
I lean on the counter to look at the menu. “Nice to meet you, Heather. Complimentary coffee? I think I just found my new office.”
Reid points toward another set of corridors branching off from the lobby. “Further down this wing, we maintain a state-of-the-art gym and an indoor saltwater pool. Both are temperature-controlled and scent-neutralized. They are available to residents twenty-four hours a day.”
Jules pans the camera toward the fitness entrance. “A pool and a gym? Honestly, they are making it too easy to stay inside,” she laughs.
Reid stops before a pair of heavy, soundproofed double doors. “Finally, we have a private theater room. It is perfect for screenings or immersive gaming, providing a cinematic experience without the sensory triggers or crowds of a public theater.”
I turn back to the camera, making sure Jules captures all of it. “See? I told you they thought of everything. A dedicated team, a private cafe, fitness centers, and even a theater. It is everything an Omega could need.”
Reid walks over to a console near the elevator. “The soundproofing ranks as top-tier. The staff carries Beta-certification. We do not allow unauthorized Alphas into thebuilding. They are not even supposed to stand on the sidewalk outside for more than a few minutes. Our security handles it before it becomes a concern for the tenants. If the resident so chooses, they can have Alpha Aid come in from one of the accredited branches, but no random Alphas are allowed on site.”
I look at the chat. People lose their minds. One user sends a message saying they would pay any amount of money to live in a building that did not smell like Alphas. Another asks about the security response times.
Reid pulls a matte black band out of a drawer. “Every resident wears one of these. It serves as more than a panic button. The sensors monitor vitals like heart rate, blood pressure, and cortisol levels in real time. If your levels spike or drop into a danger zone, Urie, and the medical staff receive an immediate alert. We do not wait for you to press the button if the system detects a physical crisis.”
I look at the device in my palm before glancing up at him. “And you said the staff stays strictly Beta?” I slide it onto my right wrist and tighten the strap.
Reid nods. “Correct. We know that for a lot of Omegas, being around Alphas creates stress, especially during transition periods. We remove that biological pressure by using a Beta-only staff for daily operations. It lets our residents live their lives without constant hormonal triggers.”
He looks at the camera. “The Nest serves as a place where you do not have to be on guard. You can just exist.”
The way he says it makes my throat feel tight. I spend my whole life on guard. I spend my whole day pretending for a camera. Hearing someone say I could just exist feels like a lie, but it represents the kind of lie I want to believe in.
