Clothes, Lisbeth thought, nervously picking a bit of lint off her sleeve as Agil and other guild leaders summed up what little they knew about Project Bluebook. Her family had sent stuff to wear, but a lot of people hadn’t been so lucky. We all need clothes. Or something to make them out of. I wonder if Ashley’s figured anything out yet? It’s so weird, seeing Kirito without his coat.
“So they call this the Project Bluebook Rehabilitation Center,” Thinker stated, “but you say Bluebook is something that goes on in Colorado. In someplace called Cheyenne Mountain.”
“Which is part of a big Air Force base,” Agil nodded. “My wife and I ran a cafe pretty near the place. Bluebook works under NORAD-”
“What’s a NORAD?” Asuna pounced.
“U.S. Air Force guys who keep an eye on the sky for missiles and other nasty stuff,” Agil filled her in. “It’s a big base dug into the mountain. Bluebook’s in their basement. They say they do deep-space radar telemetry.”
Klein gave him a sidelong look. “From under a mountain?”
“If they’re using satellites, that wouldn’t matter,” Kirito observed. “But you don’t think they are.”
“I don’t know what to think,” Agil said honestly. “But Dr. Jackson – the tall blond guy with glasses, you’ve probably seen him asking about weird things – he works for Bluebook. He comes in for coffee, usually with a stack of papers half as tall as he is. Sometimes he’s with O’Neill. Sometimes he’s with a few of the others. Never thought much about it. Bases hire academics for stuff they can’t find in the ranks all the time.” He paused. “But why would deep-space stuff need an anthropologist?”
Asuna nodded. “And why would a radar facility say they’re still looking for Kayaba?”