Time to Expire

by Chris Ramos

  The Father nodded to him and Captain Ian stood straighter.

  How was that possible? Cole mocked.

  The captain tugged his many-pocketed vest and nodded to the Father.

  Ian turned and walked straight for Cole, staring him dead in the eyes as he crossed the room. Cole tensed, feeling a confrontation on the way. At the last moment, Ian turned slightly and only clipped Cole’s shoulder with his own. Still, it felt like he was slammed by a boulder, and Cole stumbled back half a step.

  With a sarcastic huff, Captain Ian left through the sliding door. Cole watched him walk down the hallway as the door swished shut. Surprisingly, he could still see the captain even after the door was closed. It occurred to him the door was made of a one-way vision-blocking material, and further revealed that the Father and Captain Ian were watching Cole and Tym standing before the door as Tym had given the signal, a respectful bow. Possibly, they could hear them too.

  Cole realized he would have to watch his step in this new underground. It clearly was not his home.

  “Hello, Professor Lander,” Cole joked, using his alternate name. “I am impressed. I never knew there were so many books in one place outside of a museum.” Cole was brought back to his gawking. He didn’t doubt you could have all of these books on a digiscreen, but the actual original manuscripts were definitely exciting to have access to. Who had read these before him? How many places, homes, and cultures had these books been passed through?

  “Please, call me Father if you are comfortable. Everyone else does.” The Father stood, looking around the room, following Cole’s gaze across the bookshelves. “Truthfully, these were from a museum. It was a long time ago, when LifeSpan was vigorously expanding their corporate borders. Many historical institutions were no longer needed. Hospitals, libraries, treasuries, to name just a few.

  “Cole, sit down.” The Father waited until he found a seat. “I am sorry for your losses. I knew your mother and your Aunt Hester.”

  Cole wept. Finally, after all this time, he found a connection to his family. He thought back to the meetings with Emma, and this Professor Lander—the Father. Given the circumstances, he was now the only family Cole had anymore.

  They talked for many hours. Cole relived his tragedies, and the Father listened.

  Again, Cole stood at the entrance to the Father’s room. Of course, this time he knew that whoever was sitting in the room could see him. Cole bowed lightly, holding up the two glasses and a bottle of the Father’s favorite drink for his new-found mentor. At their last meeting, the Father mentioned his love for apple juice, of all things. The door swished open.

  “Hello, my friend.” As always, the Father’s voice was instantly soothing, draining Cole of all tension, inviting and welcoming him as a kindred spirit. Cole stepped inside and worked his way around a few containers full of newly acquired supplies. Canisters of what appeared to be liquid cooling tanks, heat registers and a jet-black coat, so immensely dark that it absorbed the light that would have reflected on the fabric.

  What is the point of that? Cole resolved to ask later.

  “I see you brought a most delectable drink. Let’s share. Please sit.”

  Cole grabbed a plasteel cube close to where he was standing and sat quietly, waiting for the Father to start their session.

  “Today, you will choose our topic.” The Father poured himself a glass, and leaned back in his chair.

  Cole was taken aback. They had many of these sessions over the last few weeks, and he was always questioned and guided, and their conversation usually ended in deep thought. They had discussed his interrogations at the hands of LifeSpan, his days with his aunt, and his broken future with LifeSpan. They had shared a deep sadness at the loss of Emma, her time here with the Movement, and her incredible courage. Cole knew his life was forever changed and he had nowhere to go from here that would not involve the Movement. That’s what he should be asking about.

  Cole looked the Father in the eye.

  “Let’s talk about you.”

  “Well done, my boy! I was waiting for this request.” The Father hopped in his chair with excitement. “I was actually just like you. I used to work at LifeSpan, back before you were born. In fact, you could say I started Division 3. More or less.”

  “What happened? Did you meet a rebellious young woman who introduced you to a secret society of freedom fighters?” Cole thought himself pretty slick.

  “Hardly. That would have been more glamorous than what actually happened. The gradual downslide happened over many, many years.” The Father took on a nostalgic pose, looking back through the years, peering across their room.

  “I was noticing during my time overseeing the incredible developments in our global company, a few benefits to society were grossly overstated. Lifespan became greedy and unprincipled.”

  Cole learned a great deal that day and his respect for the Father strengthened. Years ago, the Father discovered LifeSpan was corrupt, and nobody realized it. They tried to silence him with demotions and threats, but he escaped and was hunted by the Collectors.

  “I was eventually caught by them, y’know,” the Father revealed. “They beat me, severely. Tortured me with their billy clubs for many hours before they bound me. They were going to take me back to him. To Nimbus.”

  “You escaped them again?” Cole was mesmerized. “How?”

  “Luck, my boy. Pure luck. I leapt out of the transport, rolling and squirming like a worm. I happened to be next to a venting pipe when I hit the ground. I dived down an active gas-exhaust line, into the sewers. The pipe was full of flames and smoke so thick I couldn’t breathe.”

  “What?! How did you survive? What happened?” Cole was on the edge of his seat.

  “I burned. My clothing melted along with my skin. I felt my bindings burn away, and I fell free, hands flailing before landing in a pit. I was on fire, all of me. I could feel my hair and skin falling from me. The nanos did their job and kept me conscious. Instinctively I rolled, attempting to smother the flames from my clothing. However, I was choking on the rising gases. Unable to breathe, wracked with pain, and still on fire, I fell to my knees and died.”

  “Wait, repeat that last part again. You died?” Cole asked.

  “It’s true. The Collectors looked down at their scanners and knew my life had ceased. Called off their search and— Are you alright, Cole?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Please continue, so I know this is real and I haven’t been meeting with a ghost for the last few weeks.”

  “Ah, that. Unbeknownst to LifeSpan, I had a group of nanobots dedicated to one purpose. They would jumpstart my heart if ever the need arose. I awoke some time later, gasping for air as the smoke machines turned off. There I was, back from the brink, lying in a pool of silver iridescent syrup. My nanos. They must have been disrupted when I died. I gathered up as many as I could in a discarded metal jar. For this second life, I took the title of the Father, and continued my fight against LifeSpan.”

  “Where do I come in to all of this? Why do you trust me inside the Movement?” Cole asked.

  “Oh, my boy, you are full of many talents. For starters, Sci Tym and I have tried for years to reprogram groups of nanos. Suddenly, you return with Captain Ian’s men and LifeSpan’s closely guarded reprogramming pod. You know their systems; you have an incredible knowledge of computer technology. You are a lot like me, Cole. Except, for right now, your body can still heal.”

  “I know I have the nanos in my system. They are in everyone, and they help you.” Cole turned away, hanging his head. “They are supposed to help, but Galen was able to hurt me, and he said it was from the nanos in my body. Somehow, he set them against me.”

  “Yes, Cole, you have survived where others would have perished. You learned first hand that the nanos can hurt. They control your body’s every function; every cell is tuned in to their frequency,” the Father explained. “The nanos can only control your body from the inside. Galen was able to turn that against you. He was able to di
srupt their original programming, albeit only briefly, but effectively. The very instruments of your health turned on their host and started to damage you on a cellular level. Then they repaired you, on a cellular level. It was a vicious cycle of rending and mending.”

  Cole sat down and digested what the Father was telling him.

  “Father, how do I stop them from hurting me? I don’t want anyone to be able to control me like that. Not ever again.”

  The Father turned away from Cole, and let his robe fall beyond his shoulders to expose his back. Cole caught his breath. Looking at the Father’s back, he was aghast at the amount of damage evident. His skin was rippled and stretched.

  The results looked like he was wrapped in a spider’s web of loose flesh. As the Father moved his arms to shuffle his robe back up, the skin twisted and shifted, like it was meant for a man twice his size. The color was a pale yellow with vibrant swirls of pink just under the surface.

  “The nanos can be removed. Unfortunately, there is a side effect to eradicating them from your body.”

  “You can’t heal. Is this what happens when fire touches your skin?” Cole asked, sympathetically reaching out.

  “Yes, Cole, skin is not very durable when exposed to high heat. It melts like wax. Hurts, too. But without the nanos, I could do very little against the flames,” the Father replied, tying off his robe belts and pulling the collar more closely to his neck.

  “Well, at least you are free. I still have men like Galen searching for me,” Cole lamented. “So I hide. We all hide, unable to act!”

  “Who says we are not proactive?”

  “Why else would you all be down here, hidden from the surface?” Cole reasoned, believing he was just stating the obvious. “You have hundreds of defenseless residents, just waiting for Galen’s glove to visit and break you all.”

  “Is that so? Why do you believe his glove would have any power here?”

  “His glove controls nanos . . . .” Cole was connecting the pieces now.

  “Cole, the only one here with nanos by choice is Tym. Everyone you see, including me, is free.” The Father walked over to Cole now, laying his hand on his shoulder. “Easy part is getting them out of your body. You just have to die.”

  “Then why don’t the nanos pour out during the expirations?”

  The Father paused and smiled.

  “Ah, my boy, you are finally starting to think for yourself,” the Father congratulated.

  The Father walked across the room and exited, the door swishing shut behind him.

  Cole jumped from his seat and ran to keep up.

  “Well, if I wanted to die, I may as well return to the surface and have the Collectors do the job!” Cole yelled.

  “That would be too easy. Besides, we actually enjoy you being alive. Don’t you?” the Father responded with a wink, continuing down the corridor, leading him further underground.

  “The hard part is destroying them, so I trap them. They are confused, but very much alive. Those little machines are always ready to bond with another host.” After walking in silence, the Father turned into a small room and unlocked a heavy iron door located in the far rear. He stepped inside and a series of motion-activated lights illuminated a wall of shelves. Each shelf was filled with plastique jars. Hundreds of them.

  “The only way to get rid of the nanos in the body is to fool them. When they sense that a host has died, they have nothing to control. Their biological programming ceases. This makes the nanos retreat from the body. They pour out as an oily liquid, out from every orifice, every pore, moving on their own accord,” the Father said.

  “Where do they go?” Cole was shocked.

  “They try to find another host. They are always searching for a host. It is their sole purpose when they are not fused with a body. When they bond with another group of nanos, they share their information and assimilate.”

  “So, when they leave the body, that’s when you trap them? In these jars?” Cole stepped into the room, walking up to the nearest shelf and peered inside the tinted jars. There was indeed an oily liquid inside, no more than a cup full at the most. A casual glance could mistake this for syrup, but it . . . moved. Slowly the liquid climbed up the side of the jar, and swirled inside, shifting with each small successive wave.

  Cole remembered the pain and humiliation Galen was able to inflict on him. He was beaten down just to heal again. Never in control of his body. He hated LifeSpan for having that power. Now he had the reprogramming pod to make sure nobody had to go through that again. He just wanted the nanos out. He wanted to be in control of his own body.

  “Father, kill me. As soon as you can. I need to die,” Cole begged.

  THE REMOVAL

  Later that night, Cole was led to a provisional room built in the far corners of the Movement’s headquarters. It was roughly square, only six feet across, made of clear plastique and reinforced with bands of plasteel. There was a single, clear door leading into the room, with a locking bar on the outside. The floor was a floating metal grate built over a funnel.

  “I know you have been trying to reprogram the nanos and leave them in the body, but for now, this is the only way.” Cole placed his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I don’t want to wait. I don’t want anyone to have this power over me.”

  “Cole, if you would please remove your clothing so the nanos have nowhere to go except down, through the grating.” The Father was gentle, his eyes sad.

  They looked into each other’s eyes and knew there was no other way.

  Cole looked at Tym, who was checking the controls and trying to avoid Cole’s stare. The room began to hiss, and Cole glanced up at the large tanks of gas mounted to the ceiling. Tubes from these tanks fed into small holes at the bottom of the room. Cole knew what they would bring: death.

  “Remember, you don’t have to do this if you are not ready,” the Father chimed in.

  “I’m ready.” Cole removed his clothing and stepped into the room.

  The grating was cold on his bare feet. The room had a rusted odor, like metal stored in a wet warehouse. Cole turned around and noticed a crowd was forming outside of his enclosed cube. For many of them, this was his test to prove loyalty to the Movement. Some still believed Cole was an agent of LifeSpan. Suddenly conscious of his nakedness, he crossed his hands in front of himself, shying back from the edge. Cole never would have thought he would die in front of so many people.

  “Anytime, Sci Tym,” Cole announced loudly. Time to die.

  Tym threw a lever, turned a series of dials, and there was a loud series of clanks. A slow humming began, gaining intensity as the tanks above Cole were primed. He remembered the Father telling him the nanos would do their best to heal him almost as fast as the gas would kill him. The balance was a strange effect, being cured and dying at the same time. Your own body turning against you, in an effort to save you.

  Cole locked eyes with the Father, threw him a small wink, and the gas tanks emptied with an extraordinary exhalation of pressure from above him. In one instant, Cole was blasted to the ground, his hands flying forward to stop him on all fours. He immediately began to choke. His eyes watered. Cole looked out of the plexi chamber to find solace in the Father’s eyes, but could not see past the fogged reflection. All around him was white gas, enveloping him. He felt like he was falling through a cloud.

  His choking continued, and he felt his body strengthening, but he remained on the ground, back arched like a feral cat. He glanced down at his arms and saw his skin buckling. Just under the surface, it moved and flowed. His eyes stopped watering. Still, the gas filled the chamber, squeezing the air out of the cube, forcing its volume into the space provided, greedy in its use of the remaining oxygen. Cole was inhaling gas and exhaling gas. He became lightheaded, but again the feeling went away as quickly as it arrived. He was falling down a mountain, with nothing to do but grit his teeth and close his eyes, waiting for the end to come.

  “What is happening? This is taking far too lo
ng.” The Father was standing over the seated Tym, staring at the same electronic readouts, trying to sort out the various physical readings including heartbeats, pressure, oxygen levels and stress readings. Cole was fighting. Well, the nanos were fighting for him, and they were doing an amazing job.

  “I’m sorry, Father, I do not know.” Tym was bobbing in his chair, alternately wiping the sweat off his brow and randomly swiping screens away with his gloved hand. “The tanks are nearly empty, and Cole is in fine shape. He hasn’t even passed out yet! The nanos appear to be winning. They are marvelous creations, adapting faster than I had predicted. I don’t see how that is possible, but I’ve been proven wrong once before. I was very young, and had just returned home, or was I just leaving to go? I happened to be very young—”

  “Tym! I believe Cole would like to hear your story at another time. Let’s make sure he can do that, yes?” The Father was acting nonchalant, but Sci Tym was snapped back to reality.

  “Yes, yes, of course. Those nanos are able to balance his entire body systems, including the mind, and not even miss a beat . . . Remarkable. Must be a recent improvement . . . I’ll have to trick them.”

  “I don’t care how they are doing; Cole is suffering, and we need to get them out of him before the gas runs out. And we need it done two minutes ago!” The Father spun to the crowd and raised his hands in an empty-palmed plea.

  It was Captain Ian who stepped forward, hand crossed over his chest, head bowed slightly in salute.

  “Sir, if I may suggest the Compound 2-XR we were preparing for our next mission,” Ian proposed.

  Tym was the first to object, talking loudly and quickly enough before the Father gave the go ahead. “I don’t know if that would be right for this situation. We haven’t fully tested the effects on the subject’s epidermis. The cellular layers were heavily compromised at the last run.”