The NextWorld 02: Spawn Point

by Jaron Lee Knuth

  “It's timing.”

  “Timing?”

  “Think of it like a game. The blade rotation isn't random. Just time your movements.”

  “You're insane. I'm not going to-”

  I hear a buzzing sound behind me. The noise is bouncing off the metal interior of the ventilation shaft, making it impossible for me to gauge how far away it actually is.

  “Drones,” I whisper.

  “You need to move. Now.”

  I look back at the fan and curse under my breath. This isn't a game. This isn't fun. This is real life, and I hate it.

  The closer I get to the blades, the more they blur together. The heat is blowing right in my face, making my eyes water. I look down at the bottom edge of the circular opening, trying to focus on each singular blade as it swoops past. I try to count, to find the pause between each rotation, but it's too fast. There's no way I'm going to fit my entire body through the gap.

  “I can't do this.”

  “You have to.”

  The buzzing sound from behind me grows louder. A small machine floats around the corner. Four propellers keep it aloft and a bright light sits under the front-mounted camera. It points directly at me.

  “Go!”

  I turn back to the fan, trying to push myself forward, to summon the bravery to leap through the decapitating machine, but I can't. My brain won't let me. It's impossible.

  The drone slides through the ventilation shaft with ease. Its approach is calculated, zooming in on my image. It stops a few feet away, keeping me centered in the camera's view.

  I glance at the fan, then back at the drone. With a quick lunge, I grip on to the sides of the drone and yank it toward me. The propellers spin faster as it tries to fly away from me, but I don't give it the chance. I throw it the other way, toward the fan. The large blades hack through one of the drone's propellers and tear it off. The fan drags the body of the drone with the rotation, wedging it inside the track of the fan's blades. The fan screeches to a halt. I don't hesitate. I jump through the stalled blades. As soon as I'm on the other side, the fan manages to rip the drone free and continue spinning.

  “Nicely done.”

  I exhale and say, “Two birds. One stone.”

  The arrow leads me through more of the maze of ventilation shafts until I reach another mesh wire opening. I approach it slowly and peer through the cage. It looks out into a huge vertical chamber with tracks running up and down the walls. I'm not sure what I'm looking at until an elevator rushes past at an incredible speed. Another one drops down the other side.

  “We need to get you to the upper floors.”

  “You want me to take an elevator?”

  “You can't go inside them. They'll scan your nanomachines.”

  “So what do you want me to do?”

  The dramatic pause before the text appears makes me nervous. For good reason.

  “You need to jump on top.”

  “Okay,” I say leaning back. “I had a hunch when you tried to get me to jump through that fan, but now I'm sure of it. You're trying to kill me.”

  “There's no other way to go up.”

  “Then I guess we're done. I lose.”

  “If I thought giving up or losing was an option for you, I wouldn't have tried.”

  Another elevator rushes past the opening. The entire ventilation shaft shakes.

  “If one of those things hits me, I'm going to be a stain. A big, red stain.”

  “You need to be smart about it.”

  “Going anywhere near that opening is probably the stupidest thing I could do.”

  “You're wasting time. Time that Cyren doesn't have.”

  I clench my fist and bang it on the metal wall. Seeing her name causes such an emotional upheaval inside me that even if there was a slight chance of saving her, I'd be willing to throw myself down the shaft and just hope I land on my feet. Whoever is sending this text knows that.

  I push my face against the mesh wire and watch another elevator rush past, speeding upward like a rocket. Another elevator drops toward the lower levels at the same speed. My gamer brain clicks in. Strategies flow through me. Calculations and patterns.

  “If I step on to an elevator lifting into the air, I'm going to die. It will splatter me. But if I drop on to an elevator that's lowering... I should catch up to it and land softly.” I shut my eyes, not believing the words coming out of my mouth. “I hope.”

  “Now you're using your brain.”

  “No. My brain is telling me to stop listening to you. This is my stupid, stupid heart talking.”

  I shuffle around inside the tight chamber until my legs are in front of me. With a few swift kicks, I manage to knock the covering off the opening. I watch as it falls down the elevator shaft, disappearing into the bottomless pit. I look up, waiting to see an elevator approaching. One rushes past, but I hesitate too long. Luckily I manage to stop myself from leaping out. If I don't time it correctly, I'm going to fall too far, too fast, and slam into the top of the elevator.

  A big, red stain.

  Another elevator drops toward me and I count silently. One, two, three. When the roof passes by, I shut my eyes, picture Cyren's smile, and jump out into the open air.

  It's much cooler in the elevator shaft, which is a nice feeling as I plummet to my death. The cold is surging past me. I try to take a breath, but I can't breathe. There's too much pressure on my chest. Is that panic? I'm going to die. What did I do? What was I thinking?

  Ten, twenty, thirty floors rush past. The minimal lighting blurs together as my speed builds. The details of my death become a stream of color and sound that detaches me from what I'm doing.

  I force the panic out of my head and start to think straight. Rolling in mid-air, I tuck my legs under me. My toes touch something. It's the metal roof of the elevator, descending right below me. We've been dropping at the same speed, but it's slowing down. My feet press down on the roof. My heels set down. My knees gradually bend, allowing my weightless body to grip on to the ridged metal. It takes another twenty floors, but eventually gravity returns and I settle on to the roof. When I stop moving completely, my lungs heave, taking in quick, strained breaths. Between the tiny, frenzied gasps of air, I manage to read the text floating in front of me.

  “Wow. I can't believe that worked.”

  I'm about to yell out at the text when the elevator surges into motion. The speed flattens me against the roof when the elevator lifts upward. The rush is so intense, that I have to close my eyes and pretend I'm somewhere else. Thankfully, it doesn't last long. The elevator slows, just like it did when going down.

  “Okay. This floor should work.”

  The glowing arrow appears again, pointing at another hatch. There's a label, but it's old and faded. I can't read any of the print below the word: “Warning.”

  “What is this?”

  “It's an emergency release valve. In case the elevator shaft ever got flooded.”

  “I don't understand,” I say, squinting my eyes and trying to read the label again. “Where does it go?”

  Even when I read the text for a second time, I don't believe what I'm seeing.

  “It goes outside.”

  01000001

  “We don't have time to argue,” the text appears while I'm yelling objections at it. “This elevator isn't going to sit here and wait for you.”

  I slam my hand against the warning label and yell, “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because it's the only way out.”

  “I'll die.”

  “No, you won't.”

  “It's the outside!”

  “You won't be out there long.”

  “No!” I yell, then in a whisper I say, “I'm scared.”

  “Trust me. I've gotten you this far.”

  “No, I've gotten me this far. You've just been directing me toward one death trap after another.”

  “I never said it would be easy.”

  “But-”

  “Cy
ren can't afford the time we're wasting.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to bottle my fear as I grit my teeth and pull the lever on the hatch. The door swings open with a loud, wrenching creak, like no one has oiled it in decades. Inside is a long, dark tube, rusted and unused. I crawl inside, but my shoulder width barely fits. I have to wrestle to get my entire body inside. A panicked sense of claustrophobia tries to back me out, but I close my eyes and force myself deeper. Once I'm a few yards in, all I can see is the text, hovering inside my eyes.

  “100 yards.”

  “Is that all?”

  I wiggle and worm my way through every yard, like vitapaste trying to free itself from the tube. Eventually I spot a point of light in the distance. It grows with every push forward, beckoning me closer. By the time I get near, I see a yellow utility bulb over yet another hatch. I wrestle my arm out from under my body and grab on to the handle.

  “Wait!” appears in front of me.

  “What now?”

  “That's the last door before you're outside.”

  I pull my hand away.

  “There are no sensors outside the tower, so I'm going to lose contact with your nanomachines, but it's okay. Follow the ledge to your right, cross the train bridge, and enter the hatch in the adjoining tower.”

  “Right,” I say with a derisive huff, “sounds easy.”

  “Try not to breathe too deeply.”

  “Sounds like good advice.”

  I place both hands on the release lever and fill my lungs with filtered air. With a jerk, I pull the lever free and the hatch flings open. The sudden suction of air nearly pulls me from the tube, flinging me into the open sky, but I manage to brace both hands on either side of the opening to stop myself. I try to move quickly, stepping out on to the small ledge and turning to the right. Even though I know I should, I can't stop myself from looking down.

  Hundreds of towers stagger in size around me. The top of each one is in a perpetual state of construction, always adding another level to accommodate the growing population. A million flashing lights and glowing windows scatter across my view. Cords and wires and tubes hang slack between each building, an interwoven mess of electricity and digital connectivity. I can't see the earth. It makes my stomach spin. The dizziness sways me forward. My hands grip tightly to the side of the building. I force myself to look away from the death below. Gray clouds blanket the city, lightning bolts constantly dancing in flaring arcs across them. A destroyed atmosphere with nothing left to do but scream out in pain.

  I'm lost in the immensity of everything when a train rumbles past, shaking the building that I'm clinging to. The small ledge my heels are on vibrates. I press my back to the wall, trying to stay firmly in place. When the movement settles, I shift my body, making my way to the right. I can't help thinking of the cliff side in the Darkfyre Mountains and my group's nearly fatal fall. I survived it then, but I don't have a magic belt to save me this time.

  As I pass the window next to me glowing with a plate of artificial sunlight, I feel the first effects of the outside air. My eyes water, a burning sensation piercing straight through them. I let go of the wall with one hand and rub them, but it doesn't help. Tears stream down my face. My skin itches. It's like stepping through a fog of acid, a chemical bath in an ocean of corrosive liquids.

  My feet move faster as my lungs struggle to hold on to the air inside me. I pass three more windows before I reach the train bridge between the two buildings. I can't take it anymore. My chest heaves, letting out all the breath I've been saving. I try not to inhale, but my body demands it. It burns worse on the inside. The air tears apart my throat before my lungs are filled with burning coals.

  My eyes are watering so much by this point that I can barely see. The bridge is right below me, but judging the distance I have to drop is impossible. I wipe the tears from my face and squint, trying to focus. It looks like ten feet, but it could be twenty for all I know. I look back at the hatch I came out of, hesitating for a moment.

  I shimmy over the side of the ledge and lower myself down as much as I can. My fingers grip on to the metal ridge and my body dangles freely. My arms cry out in pain, knowing they can't suspend my weight. I close my eyes and let go.

  It feels like forever, falling through the open air of the city, but I eventually slam on to the bridge. My legs crumple underneath me and my back slaps against the magnetic rails. It forces me to suck in more air. I lurch forward, hacking and coughing violently. I cover my mouth with my hand and when I pull it away I can see specks of red against my pale skin.

  I lift myself off the tracks, my muscles aching, my back swelling with pain, my legs shaking weakly. I'm trying to give myself time to limp forward, but the bridge rumbles underneath me. I look over my shoulder and see two beams of light round the corner of a building far in the distance. I start jogging, but the light is gaining on me. I force myself into an all-out run for the end of the bridge. The tracks shake more and more as I near the next building. I can hear the rattle and hum of the magnetic thrusters hunting me down like prey.

  When I reach the other side of the bridge, I frantically search the walls for another hatch. A few feet from the edge there is a small circle with the same faded warning label. I lunge for it, gripping the handle with both hands and pulling, but it doesn't budge. It feels welded shut, like the corrosive atmosphere has melted the door to its frame. I look over my shoulder and see the train reach the bridge. My eyes dart around, looking for somewhere safe to hide, but there's only the edge that drops off into the emptiness between the towers. I have two choices. I either die instantly upon impact, or I die hundreds of stories below. I choose neither.

  I grip on to the handle again, leaping into the air and using my weight to pull down. My shoulder dislocates, but the lever also loosens and turns. I throw the hatch open and leap inside, pulling my legs in close to my chest as the train reaches me. The door breaks loose from its hinges when the train slams into it and roars past.

  My entire body burns with pain, but I lurch deeper into the tube, pulling myself with one arm. The deeper I go, the cleaner the air feels. My nanomachines work faster and faster, trying to clean the cells I've destroyed in the last few minutes. The microscopic tools numb my shoulder and focus my vision.

  “I knew you could do it,” the text reads as it twitches back into view.

  Through a fit of coughing, I barely manage to say, “That makes one of us.”

  01000010

  The end of the tube opens into a hallway that looks empty, so I drop down to the floor and close the hatch behind me. The glowing arrow rounds the second corner to the right.

  “The train station is nearby,” the text reads. “They won't be looking for you in this tower, but you still need to be careful not to get scanned.”

  I stumble forward, my legs feeling better with every step I take. When I make a few turns through the tower, I see a crowd of people at the end of a wide hall riding an escalator upward. A sign at the top reads: Departure Station. A family hurries past me, late for their train. I nonchalantly merge with the crowd, trying to act like I belong. Men and women, adults and children. Pale, hairless skin hanging on differently shaped bodies.

  It's strange, being around this many real people. The smell of their sweat and the gruffness of their movements as they push and shove their way past each other. My breathing becomes quick gasps of air. My heartbeat races. Their mere presence is crushing me. The sheer number of them around me suffocates the air from the room. It's too much. It's too real.

  When I reach the top of the escalator, I rush to the side of the train station, trying to find a corner to catch my breath. I lean against a large screen displaying DOTcom advertisements. The citizens walking past me give me a quick glance as I hunch over, sucking in air like I'm drowning, but they move on just as fast, forgetting the strange sight.

  “Stay in the crowd,” the text reads.

  “There are too many of them.”

  “And one of you. W
hich makes you stand out.”

  “How do you plan on getting me aboard a train? I can't just buy a ticket.”

  “You won't need a ticket.”

  “You need a ticket to board a train.”

  “Not every train.”

  The arrow flashes on the floor, leading me back into the sea of people. I take a few more deep breaths and push off from the commercial screen, wading into the current of smells and sounds and jerking elbows. Train whistles blow from the tracks, alarms sound in the distance, and the speaker system periodically announces routine instructions for boarding times. I try to drown out the blanket of stimuli and focus on the arrow. I'm bounced back and forth between bodies going in different directions, but I plant my feet hard against the floor and manage to work through the crowd, crossing the entire expanse of the station.

  The arrow points at a door that clearly reads: Maintenance Only.

  “How am I supposed to-”

  “Wait.”

  My eyes dart around, watching the faces of every passerby, trying to determine their level of suspicion. To the left and to the right, over and over. A hundred faces pass by. No one notices me. They're too involved in their own lives, their own destinations.

  But then I see a security guard. I press up against the wall next to the door, wishing there was a shadow to cover me, a hatch to crawl inside, something that would shield me from the guard's eyes.

  “Wait,” is all that appears in front of me.

  “I can't,” I say, pushing off from the wall, back into the crowd. “He's going to see me.”

  The guard stops a man next to him for a routine scan of his nanomachine signature. I try to imagine what I'm going to say if he catches me. Could I pretend I'm lost? Could I pretend this was all a big accident?

  The maintenance door next to me opens.

  A worker steps out carrying a large bag.

  “Now!” appears in front of me.

  I grab the side of the door before it swings shut and slide inside. There's a long hallway stretching either way, lined with lockers.