Neighbors

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Neighbors Page 12

by Brian Whiting


  Alex sighed heavily and stood next to her. She backed away, and Alex

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  placed his chin on the cold metal. As soon as he looked directly into the lens, the door clanked open.

  Alex and Laura stepped inside, to be greeted by a team of UEF employ-

  ees and civilian workers.

  “What is all of this?” Laura asked as she peered down one of the vari-

  ous tunnels that shot off in many directions. Some of the tunnels were big

  enough for a semi-trailer truck to drive down.

  “This is plan B. UEF employees and their families will be picked up

  and taken here in the event we lose the battle for space.” Alex shook hands

  and greeted those assembled.

  “Why doesn’t anyone know about this place?”

  “We do!” A larger sized women reached out her hand to shake Laura’s.

  “Call me Mrs. Jacobs. Hopefully we will never need this place it, but if we

  do, you will be extremely grateful, I’m sure.”

  Mrs. Jacobs looked like a typical suburban mom; there was even a bit

  of smeared dry baby food on her right shoulder. She had a full head of thick

  brown hair and solid black glasses, her feet covered by tennis shoes. This

  struck her as odd, as the others assembled all dressed like the typical busi-

  ness attire.

  “What is it you do here, Mrs. Jacobs?”

  “I oversee all personnel logistics.”

  Laura nodded, looking to Alex, who was talking to a large, mus-

  cled man.

  “…just not enough space. We can’t build the tunnels fast enough, let

  alone furnish and stock them.”

  “I have another tunnel borer on order, but it won’t be anywhere near

  finished before the Zorn attacks. There aren’t even any that can be con-

  tracted—trust me I’ve tried… Every government in the world is paying

  premium dollar for the tunnel machines. I heard Mexico bought a severely-

  crippled machine months ago and is nearly done repairing it. I am betting

  our President is considering giving them Arizona for it.”

  “Well, right now we can properly house seventy-four percent of the

  UEF workforce. The rest will certainly fit inside if you don’t mind driving

  around tents and the like in the roadways.”

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  Another older man spoke for the first time. “Each passing day, that percentage drops as you take on more UEF personnel.”

  “Do your best, that’s all we can ask of you. So, you made some pretty

  lofty claims to get me to come out here. Where’s the discovery you’re so

  hyped about?”

  “Follow me.”

  * * *

  The team walked across the barren intersection to a commercial bus that

  sat silent. As the group approached, the driver started the electric engine.

  Laura was first to board.

  Dillon stood and approached Laura. “Hello, my name is Dillon, plea-

  sure to meet you. Please make your way to an open seat.”

  All the seats were open, so she sat down in the front row. Alex sat down

  on the other side of the aisle, across from her. As everyone seated them-

  selves, Laura noticed that the driver’s rearview mirror was aligned in such a

  way that they could look at each other.

  Laura paid him no attention and peered out her window. The tunnels

  were warmly lit, large yellow tubing webbed the ceiling, along with various

  pipes of different sizes. As the bus sped down a particular tunnel, the pass-

  ing lights began to transfix Laura; they reminded her of when her family

  took long road trips, and she would fall asleep at night, watching the light

  posts pass by over and over again.

  She opened her eyes, aware of a sharp pain in her right shoulder; she

  slept on it in an awkward position. She grunted and realized the bus was

  empty. She stood with a twinge of panic and looked around the bus twice

  without moving before she heard a voice.

  “They aren’t far, just follow that tunnel. It bends slightly, and they’re

  just out of sight.” Dillon pointed to the tunnel directly in front of the door to the bus.

  “Thank you.”

  Her heart raced as she wondered how long she slept for. She exited the

  bus and walked quickly down the tunnel about twenty paces before she saw

  a huddled group of people. She walked up cautiously; no one was speaking.

  The tunnel came to a halt at an object partially exposed from the

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  surrounding rock. Bits of metal littered the ground; she tripped on one and almost fell over. One of the men grabbed her by the elbow to steady her.

  She picked up one of the shards, rotating it in the light so she could see

  it better.

  “Thank you. What are these?”

  “Those are parts of various drill bits we used to try and rid us of this

  thing. Couldn’t even put a scratch in it.” The man looked older and worn,

  as though he’d lived in these tunnels his whole life, despite them being

  practically new.

  She looked at the wall, which was patterned with grooves and gouges

  from the drill. The wall nearest her looked stained with blood.

  “What’s all of that?” She pointed at the stained wall.

  “We tried a hydraulic press and the lines burst, putting a couple of

  people in the hospital. Not a scratch on the thing. It’s impervious.”

  Laura’s eyes fell back onto the completely orblike object they all were

  mesmerized with. “And what’s that?”

  * * *

  Day 13

  He knew he was early; the sun was risen, but he was eager. Walking up to

  the main lobby brought forth feelings of pride and joy. A trio of reception-

  ists were busy helping previous arrivals, but the wait was brief.

  “Welcome, how can I help you?”

  “Good morning. I want to speak with Alex Prager.”

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “No, he is not expecting me.”

  The receptionist’s joy-filled face turned to one of disappointment.

  “I am sorry. If you don’t have an appointment, I am not sure that’s pos-

  sible. I can leave him a message. Who should I say was here?”

  “Tell him his father is in the lobby.”

  The receptionist froze, briefly unsure whether to believe him or not.

  “Of course. If you’ll have a seat over there—” She pointed to a collection of

  black leather sofas arranged in various configurations around a half dozen

  different centerpieces or coffee tables. “—I’ll be sure to let him know.”

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  The receptionist eyed him as he headed to the waiting chairs. She dialed the phone and waited before turning to her computer monitor, the headset

  over her ears. “Hello, Laura. This is Tish at the front desk. I’ve got a man

  here who says he’s Alex father.”

  * * *

  Alex lay his head down on the pillow, having spent yet another entire

  night planning with his team. He wanted to ignore the message he received,

  but his curiosity got the better of him. Laura had his phone on lockdown,

  so there weren’t too many people that could contact him directly. If he got

  a message now, it would likely be important.

  A screenshot of his father sitting in the lobby of the UEF building

  caught his attention immediately.

  Do you have time for this man?

  He scrambled up and pu
t on the clothes he just took off.

  Thanks. On my way.

  Alex stepped into the elevator, realizing he hadn’t try hard enough to

  talk to his father lately. He knew he hadn’t spoken to him since he collected

  his father’s money, and every day that went by made it harder to return

  his call.

  The ding of the elevator brought him back from his daydreaming. He

  stepped off and slowly made his way to the array of lobby couches. He

  found his father and sat down directly in front of him.

  “My God! I figured you must be a busy man, but this is much worse

  than I expected!” Drake leaned as far forward as he could without stand-

  ing up. Alex had dark rings under his eyes, and his hair was not kept well.

  “When was the last time you slept?”

  “Hi, dad.”

  There was a considerable pause.

  “Listen, I know you’re busy, so I’ll get to the point. You ignored or

  obfuscated the liaison to the White House for some time.”

  There was another pause.

  “You spoke of a point.” Alex raised his right eyelid to look at his dad.

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  “Well, I think they assumed you would not ignore your father. There’s a bit of irony there somewhere, I think.”

  Drake could see the exhaustion in his eyes and the gears turning in his

  son’s head.

  “Wait…” Alex let his eyes close as it dawned on him.

  “I am the White House Liaison to the UEF, as of a week or so ago.”

  Drake leaned in a bit, talking with a much softer voice. “I haven’t been paid

  yet, so it doesn’t seem very real.”

  “You work for the government? You hate the government!”

  “I don’t hate the government.”

  Alex lowered his chin and looked his father directly in his eyes.

  “Okay, I hate the government, but they are paying me too good. I just

  had to accept the offer. Plus, this way we can spend more time together.”

  “’Cause that’s always been high on your priorities, has it? What did

  they do? Offer bonus incentives if we work well together?”

  “Hey! I am the one that has been calling you, reaching out to you,

  remember? You’re the one blowing me off. Got what you’re needed from

  your old man and now you’re done with him, huh?”

  “Yeah, now that you don’t think I am worthless, you’re willing to spend

  time with me? How sweet.”

  Alex’s view of his father was interrupted when Amanda walked between

  them and sat down beside him.

  “Who’s this lovely woman?” Drake asked, eyeing Amanda over.

  “Hello, my name is Amanda Reese. You must be Drake. Pleased to

  meet you.”

  “Oh, you speak kindly to me. Let me guess, you must be interested in

  my son.”

  Amanda looked taken aback for a second, then smiled at Drake.

  “Hardly. I’ve been the gazelle in this relationship. He wore me down.”

  Alex glanced at her with an odd expression. “You know full well that

  you came after me, or do I need to remind you of when you barged into my

  cabin that night?” Alex looked at his father. “I was innocent!”

  “Oh, please.” Amanda sat up and began to use Alex’s tone and inflec-

  tions, looking at Drake. “I’ve read your file carefully. We would be pleased if you join us. Let me take you on a tour of the ship. Can I get you anything?”

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  She looked back at Alex. “If you came on to me any harder, it might have been taken as some kind of obsession.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? You’re the one who was all like, tell me

  your deepest darkest secret. I need to know if you’re the one for me.”

  Amanda doubled over in laughter. Drake was amused for a few

  moments but then looked at his watch. He gave an obviously fake cough.

  They both settled down and looked at him with huge grins on their faces.

  “You guys are perfect for each other. Anyway, I am here to ask for

  access to and get details on your schedule.”

  Amanda looked quizzingly at Alex.

  “He’s the new White House Liaison,” Alex told her.

  “Really!” Her smile slowly became disingenuous.

  Drake didn’t miss a beat. “Oh God, you really are perfect for each other.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I had a late night.” Alex stood up and reach out to

  shake his father’s hand.

  Drake shook it, and Alex left the lobby in a sleepy haze.

  Amanda looked at Drake and tried to imagine growing up with him.

  “Laura is his assistant, although I suspect she might be in bed right now

  as well. I’d reach out to her in the morning.” Amanda pulled out her con-

  tact card and wrote Laura’s extension on the back. “I speak to her almost as

  much as I do Alex.” Amanda stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of her

  skintight but still professional attire. “You’re one of thousands of people

  fighting for some of his time; don’t get offended if you end up with little or none at all. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

  Amanda reached out and shook his hand as Alex had, then left Drake,

  alone and bemused, in the lobby.

  A few moments later, she caught up to Alex just before the elevator

  door closed.

  “Nearly every senator has toured the Complex at least once by now,

  why do they need a liaison?” Alex asked, but didn’t seem to be expecting an

  answer. Amanda let him simmer in the corner.

  * * *

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  Day 15

  The main auditorium finished construction a couple of days ago. Alex had

  as many members of the UEF and members of the scientific community as

  he could find sitting inside. They waited for the long-coming crash course

  on alien technology taught by Kalibri. Alex would also live stream the

  class online.

  Alex stood at the podium, a small communications device in his ear.

  Thanks to the subspace array installed on the Destiny, they had a live feed to Kalibri with only a two-second delay.

  “I welcome all people of the Earth to the first galactic education class

  taught by Kalibri.”

  The participants in the audience gave a thunderous applause. After a

  whole minute or so, the applause died down.

  “Without any ado I present you… Kalibri.”

  A bus-sized screen came to life. An avatar that represented Kalibri

  stood alone on a blank screen. The avatar was covered with a thick robe, its

  face completely obscured, its fingers completely mechanical. Alex sat down

  on a seat in the first row as he waited for the class to begin, and focused on the screen.

  Zeek sat next to him and whispered, “If he had a lightsaber, his outfit

  would be complete.”

  Alex cracked a smile.

  “Greetings, citizens of Earth. My name is Kalibri. I assume you have

  heard all about me from Alex and the UEF, so I will forgo elaborating who

  I am. I have read and analyzed your entire history and anything that was

  accessible to the internet. Your species is unique, much like the other spe-

  cies our civilization has come across. Aside from the Zorn, we haven’t met a

  species bent on conquering or subjugating other planets. If I was to be blunt

  with you, your history is concerning. Conflict is a way of life for you. Under normal circumstances, I doubt we would be providing technology to you.

&
nbsp; However, you excel at conflict, while we do not. There’s also a biologi-

  cal latency inherent with Thean society that you are not inhibited by. These

  generalized factors give you a decisive edge against the Zorn. With your

  abilities and our technology, you may prevail for both of our sakes.”

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  Kalibri walked on an empty void landscape. Every utterance from his voice provoked a slight glowing effect around his avatar, giving him a

  supernatural appearance.

  “Did you create his avatar?” Alex asked Zeek.

  “Nope, he did it himself.”

  “Having technology is not enough. You must understand its basic

  functionality for it to be useful.

  “The first topic I’ll discuss is subspace. All technical information on this

  and all following subjects will be detailed in the highest extent in reports

  and diagrams that are now uploaded on the UEF mainframe. This topic is

  most appropriate, as it’s the only reason I can speak to you directly.”

  “Can you hear us?” someone from the audience shouted.

  It took a few seconds, but the reply came with a smile in his voice. “Yes,

  I can hear you, and I won’t be taking any furthers questions during this

  event. Information can be sought in the data now uploaded.

  “To begin. With enough energy, you can physically separate the noth-

  ingness of space from itself, like a hidden layer of existence that was always there. It’s impractical to do anything with the physical properties of this

  action, but with a subspace array, you can pierce that barrier with far less

  energy. When you do so, you find that there is a flow in the cosmos. It is

  omnidirectional from the source somewhere in the depths of deep space;

  however, it’s unidirectional in every galaxy, like a in a one-way road.

  “The same radio frequency or energy wave that would take centuries

  to transmit a signal to other planets would be nearly instantaneous. Due

  to the properties of subspace, once a signal enters it, it travels in all directions, much like your radio signals. However, it does not transmit in equal

  speed in all directions. If the signal opposes the unidirectional flow, there is a noticeable difference over large distances.

  “If you were in the center of our galaxy and you sent a message with

  the flow to the edge of this galaxy, billions of stars away, it might take a few minutes before the edge receives the message. If you sent a message against

 

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