The Dead Room Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It’s a lot to take in.”

  “Agreed,” was all he managed before a set of glass doors whooshed aside and a blast of cool air hit them. He breathed it in, and it smelled oddly sterile.

  Vega’s hand went to her ear. “Major, we’re inside with the cargo.” She said nothing for a few beats. “Aye, sir. We’ll head that way.”

  “I’m to bring you to the major’s office,” she explained.

  Mason thought that sounded fine to him. He certainly didn’t have any other plans, except maybe to sit down for a moment. Catch his breath. But as he walked, he became less anxious and more excited about the marvels around him.

  They walked down a few metal corridors, and Mason had to resist stopping to just look at things. They walked past an overlook that had hundreds of people milling about down below. There was something playing on a tremendous glass screen across the area, and even trees and bushes growing beautifully.

  Vega must have noticed their pace had slowed because she stopped.

  “Are the trees fake?”

  “No, they’re real enough. It’s a lot of work to maintain, and there are strict rules to keep off the grass as much as possible, but it makes people happy, so we reseed it regularly. There’s a lab that specializes in creating new dirt from our waste down below for things like this and our crops to grow in.

  “It’s all part of one of our common areas. A place where people can get some sunlight.” She gestured toward the massive two-story windows they were walking by. “People love the greenery, and they can get caught up on the news or goings-on with the feed over there. They usually play games over there, or just get a bite to eat from one of the local eateries on this deck. It’s a nice spot. But there are nicer,” she explained as she let them take it all in.

  “It’s amazing,” Lehman said as she looked around and watched two kids play a game of Frisbee.

  “It’s home,” Vega said again as she urged them on. “Come on. The major is waiting.”

  Their short tour ended much too quickly as they came to what had to be the major’s office. “This way,” Vega said as she guided them through a hallway with massive portraits of various people.

  “That’s General Quelch there. The founder of the airships,” Vega pointed out as they walked past the first one.

  “Your savior,” Mason said.

  “I never really thought about it that way. But we do owe a lot to him.”

  The major stepped out of the door and greeted them, leaving Vega with a surprised look on her face.

  “Captain Fowell,” he said, holding out his hand to Vega. He shook it roughly. “Good work.”

  “Mr. Hawkins, Ms. Lehman,” the major continued. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Despite what you may or may not have heard, you are most welcome here on the Perseus. There are a few people who would like to speak with you briefly, and then we will let you get settled. A larger meeting will be held tomorrow morning.”

  “I see,” Mason said as he struggled to keep up with what was happening. An overhead light flickered, drawing his attention. Overhead lights. Not candles. Lights.

  Lehman elbowed him. “Focus.”

  Mason nodded and brought his attention back to the major.

  “Right this way,” the major coaxed.

  They followed him into a rather large room with a long table in the center. Only the major and a few others were inside, but there was a projection screen with eight other faces on it, all of them smiling widely at them.

  “Welcome, mainlanders,” one person with a very thick accent said, but Mason had no way of identifying what country the strange tone might have come from.

  Mainlanders. The term sounded odd to Mason. He wasn’t a mainlander, was he? He was an islander. Always had been. An islander off the island. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the subject at hand.

  “Thank you,” he said as he sat down next to Lehman, who lowered herself into the rolling chair with some difficulty. It threatened to get away from her a bit, but the major came to her rescue and held the squirrely devil in place. She smiled up at him in a way Mason hadn’t seen before. As if…

  His train of thought was interrupted.

  “We’re all anxious to hear about your way of life down below. But first, we know you’ll want to get cleaned up and settled,” another leader said from in the center row of the screen of faces. He had a suit and tie on. Mason hadn’t known those things still existed. He leaned closer to the projection and reached out for it. But his hand touched only glass, leaving a bit of a smudge on the screen.

  The major took out a cloth from his pocket and wiped the smudge away. “Sorry, Mr. Hawkins. It’s just a piece of glass. This must all be very overwhelming for you.” Mason looked at the screen again, and it was as if he’d never touched it.

  “I just… I’ve never seen such things before.”

  The people in the room frowned at him, all except Lehman, who was slack jawed. It was his turn to elbow her. She closed her mouth and swallowed.

  “We just wanted to welcome you to the Perseus, and thank you heartily for agreeing to help us,” the woman in the top right corner said, in understandable but broken English.

  “Where are you from?” Mason couldn’t stop himself from asking.

  “Russia. We are the Russian airship, Bogatirs.” She nodded for emphasis, and Mason felt compelled to nod back, out of respect. She sat up a little straighter and smiled down at him.

  “Thank you for your warm reception. We are looking forward to finding a solution to our mutual problem.” Mason had no idea where such an official-sounding statement came from, since he was feeling so overwhelmed, but he went with it.

  “We’ll speak at length with you tomorrow,” the major said. “Someone will come to your room at 0700 to guide you over here.”

  “0700?” Mason asked.

  “Seven in the morning. I’ll have them call before they show up so you’ll be ready,” the major explained.

  “Vega, would you mind showing them to their quarters? They’re near your secluded ones. We’ll need you to stay there for a bit longer.”

  “Aye, sir. Any idea how much longer?”

  “Until this is resolved.”

  Vega’s face fell. “Aye, sir.”

  The major clapped her on the shoulder as she turned to go. “Good work, Captain.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said as she left. Mason noticed her demeanor with him. She relished his praise. Vega respected the major, which automatically made Mason want to respect him too. But he wasn’t sure why. Did that mean he trusted Vega? Respected her? Or even enjoyed her company? He shook his head. No need to go that far.

  As they walked down another series of corridors and into something Vega called “the elevator,” Mason tried to stifle the urge to question Vega about what the major said.

  “Does the general population know what’s going on? The major said something about you staying in secluded quarters until this was resolved,” Lehman said, effectively taking the words out of Mason’s thoughts.

  Vega winced. “You caught that, did you?” She hesitated, and Mason wasn’t sure she would even answer.

  “No. They don’t know. The major and the others thought it would be best to keep it quiet until we had a feasible solution. In order to avoid panic.” As they exited the elevator, Vega looked out at the people doing normal things before they went back to their jobs. “Panic in an enclosed space would be bad news.”

  “I agree with you there,” Mason said. He couldn’t get over the sheer volume of souls he was seeing. They far exceeded the people on the island, and he wondered how anyone kept them all straight. He didn’t know everyone on the island personally, but he knew of them, and at least knew most of their names. That would be impossible on a ship like the Perseus. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “Are you guys hungry? The major gave me permission to take you to eat wherever I wanted and to put it on
his tab,” Vega said with a sparkle in her eye.

  “Yeah, actually, I am hungry. What do you have?” Mason asked.

  “Something better than rations with grey dirt for a condiment, that’s for sure.” She winked at Mason. A smile that was creeping across his face died when he glanced at Lehman, whose own smile was so smug that he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of returning it.

  Vega led them up several more floors and down some increasingly grand hallways. The ceilings grew taller as they went, and rather than just plain, chipped white, they were painted a soft yellow and had artwork hanging on them. It was a big difference from the clean walls they’d seen in other parts of the ship. Elaborate light fixtures hung from the ceiling, making pieces of art all on their own.

  “Are you sure this is what the major had in mind?” Lehman asked, looking around the room with big eyes.

  “The major knows I don’t abuse my privilege very often. When I do, it’s well deserved.” Vega shrugged as she went in without hesitation.

  “A lot of our eateries are cafeteria style, but this one is more high end. It was apparently frequented often in the beginning by the wealthy who originally populated the ship. Now, it’s only used for special occasions, and it is self-serve. The cooks prepare the food, but we have to serve ourselves and clean up.”

  Mason nodded as he looked around the beautiful but clearly aged room.

  The lights were dimmed inside, but the light fixtures weren’t any less amazing than the ones out in the hall. They were spaced at different intervals, some higher than others, creating a sense of movement as they passed through the grand room. Tables were sparse and spread out, allowing patrons a feeling of privacy as they ate. The décor was like nothing Mason had ever seen. The wooden dining tables he’d been used to on the island, or the old picnic tables for big gatherings, had nothing on these works of art. These were gilded, glinting as the dim light hit them when he walked past, despite the flakes he saw. The legs were carved ornately with the same wave-like patterns the lights formed. Soft cream-colored tablecloths covered each one, and tarnished gold flatware with gold-rimmed stemware adorned the table. Despite the age, it was nicer than anything he’d ever seen before.

  The centerpiece was a masterpiece of craftsmanship. The waves circled around until they met with the light fixture above, creating a fusion of light, movement, and art all in one. To Mason, it almost looked like a whirlpool. It was beautiful.

  He stood there, looking at it without realizing the girls had sat down. When he noticed, he hastily pulled the heavy chair out and sat down, struggling to get it pulled under the table. He wasn’t sure how the girls had gotten situated so quickly.

  “This place is amazing, Vega,” Mason said as he continued to gawk.

  “It really is our best,” she answered.

  “Have you guys had this kind of opulence since the beginning?” Mason asked as Lehman picked up her menu. Lehman gave him a cautionary glance over the top of her menu, but he ignored it.

  “I’m not really sure how to answer that. I suppose so, compared to you. In the beginning, the ship was for the rich, like I said, but as time went on, everyone had to pitch in to keep things running. There are too many jobs and not enough people, so no one could afford to sit on their laurels as it were. This level of opulence faded, as you can see.” Vega looked at her wineglass, and Mason noticed the gold on its rim was uneven and chipped off. She set it down in favor of her menu, prompting Mason to do the same.

  The lighted piece of glass was long and rectangular. When he picked it up, it came to life, offering images of plates, audio pronunciations of dishes, definitions of ingredients and preparation methods, as well as optional substitutions. Following Vega’s example, he used his finger to swipe through options and offerings, becoming a bit overwhelmed at the sheer amount.

  “What do you recommend, Vega?”

  “The pasta is quite good here, or if you’re in the mood for some actual meat, go for the steak. It’s the best on the ship.”

  “Where do you get the food for such meals?” Mason asked as he pulled up a picture of a perfectly cooked steak. It was pink in the middle with juice forming around the edges, a nice sear on the outside. He could almost smell it as his mouth suddenly filled with saliva.

  “Oh, we have farms here. They’re on a different level. I’m sure I can take you over there at some point so you can see.”

  “Farms,” Mason said, trying and failing to process what that could mean. Of course they had farms. There were thousands of people on the ship. How else would they feed them?

  “But don’t you run out of food? Why don’t you ration it?” Mason persisted, unable to grasp such extravagance.

  Vega tapped an image on her menu twice, and then the screen went dark. Setting it aside, she looked at Mason.

  “No, we don’t run out of food. At least, we haven’t yet. We’ve certainly seen our leaner years where a place like this wouldn’t have been possible. Shortly after the ships launched, the crops got a terrible disease. Probably from the inexperience of the farmers, maybe not enough sunlight or water. Who knows? But a lot of them died. The residents went without a lot that year and for several years after that, as the crops and soil recovered from the trauma. It was then they created the soil labs I was telling you about, to help keep fresh dirt around all the time. They are also in charge of keeping a store of seeds constantly. That way if there is a mass die out, we can always start again.

  “Some years, it’s the animals that get the disease, then everyone’s a vegetarian for a while, struggling to make sure there’s enough protein to go around. In fact, supposedly, they used to have pigs on board, but they died off completely about a hundred and fifty years ago. Now we just have cows, sheep, chickens, that sort of thing. We make do. With so many people on board, our operation is similar to yours, just on a bigger scale.”

  Vega then leaned over and pointed to Lehman’s menu. “Did you decide what you want?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lehman answered.

  “Ok, just double tap it, and it will take you through the sides and what you want to drink.”

  “Really?” Lehman asked, looking more closely at her menu.

  “Yup.”

  Mason returned his attention to his own menu. He mashed his finger on the steak and the image disappeared, replaced with several images of what looked like vegetables. But they were fancier than anything he’d ever eaten. He selected green beans, mashed potatoes, and a glass of water. Safe options.

  “Okay, you’ve been asking a lot of questions about our world. Tell me a little bit about yours. You came from that island I flew over, right? What did you do there?” Vega asked.

  Lehman was the first to respond. “I was an elder.” Vega’s face furrowed, so Lehman went on. “A leader of sorts. I wasn’t an important elder, at least not until recent events unfolded. But I helped govern the island, dispose of dead bodies, council islanders in need, settle disputes…that sort of thing.”

  “I see. That sounds very important.” Vega turned her attention to Mason. “And what about you?”

  “I was a welder. I worked to make sure pipes were maintained so everyone had access to water, and generally made sure things ran well on the island.”

  “Very helpful,” Vega said. “Except, how did you align yourself with Lehman here? If your system has such a hierarchy, how did you come to be one of the leaders?”

  Mason smiled. Couldn’t sneak anything by her. “It’s a very long story. And a lot of people lost their lives for me to get where I am. Maybe I’ll tell it to you someday.”

  “No time like the present,” Vega prodded and Lehman laughed.

  “I can vouch that it really is a long story. He’s not telling you that just to put you off.”

  “I see,” Vega said, but by the way she arched her eyebrow in Mason’s direction, he could tell she wouldn’t let it go. He’d be telling her the story of the dead room sooner rather than later if she had anything to do with it.


  “My turn to ask another question,” Mason said, but he wasn’t sure he could settle on one. He was so overwhelmed by everything.

  A bell dinged, announcing their dinner was ready. A plate of food bigger than what he’d eaten in the last two days, let alone in one sitting, was waiting for him, along with a pitcher of crystal clear, ice-cold water, at the self-serve window Vega led them to.

  “Where does the water come from?” he asked as he ran a finger along the outside of the glass after they’d sat back down. He’d never had ice in a drink before. Without power on the island, many of the extravagances on the ship seemed almost magical.

  “From the air. They collect it outside constantly. The machinery is quite fascinating. I can take you there too if you like,” Vega answered as she dug into her plate of pasta.

  Mason picked up his knife and dug into his steak, feeling a twang of guilt for the meal. Those below were still eating rations.

  “What’s the word on bringing the rest of us up here?” Mason asked.

  “Not sure. We’ll ask tomorrow at the meeting.”

  “Tomorrow?” Mason asked, more than a little uncomfortable with that. “You made it sound like someone would come get them right away. They’re going to think we abandoned them.”

  Vega looked stricken, as if what he’d said hurt her. “I’m sorry, Mason. I don’t have a lot of control over the situation. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to the major and see what the situation is. Until then, I’m doing the best I can. You’ll have to take me at my word.” She looked back down into her plate.

  “My turn to ask a question,” Vega said as she looked back up.

  Mason noticed her tone had changed a bit. It was a little colder. “What do you know about Ashby? Very little is known about him up here, except for what made the papers. We know he created the bots, the people of the time went nuts for them and they were everywhere, then they turned on him. But you seemed to know more about it.”

  The journal in Mason’s pocket weighed heavily. He opened his jacket and pulled it out. “This might explain more than I could. It’s Ashby’s journal. Found it on a reconnaissance mission with a friend of mine.”