“You are all well aware now that cosmic combustion has infused insufferable substances into our atmosphere, and chemical mergences are further resuscitated into beta decay, making it nearly impossible to even make out as much as a couple of seconds out there. Now, we here have built a quantitative technique in which disastrous elements can be captured and destroyed. We call it ‘the membrane,’” he opened his arms along with his proud representation, in which he was taking full glory. “Anyone who steps foot across this quantifiable barrier is to be crashed and lifeless in spur of moment. Radioactive ambience is not something human race is adjusted to straddle into. But here, inside this tower, we have a whole team trying to come up with a solution as to how we could make our environment adjustable again. Sadly, here, within this building, is all there is to the human race now. And we are pegging ourselves away each forwarding moment, to not let it be the last.”
He highs up his glass of champagne as he fetches up his speech.
“I don’t know. I’m just, I’m honestly still trying to process this whole restriction fragment thing. And really, I’m a go getter. I can deal with everything. But being here while trying to survive is the only thing I can’t with.” Zoey looks at us desperately.
Honestly, we’re all with her on that. His end of the speech takes all the room into a sudden silence that, after all, seems like the most justified latent outcome.
2
They have us take this bizarre pill, called endonuclease, that is a moderately enzyme both medically and digitally which helps our bodies adjust the lack of air there is to the tower within the membrane that surrounds it.
“Your eyes are glimmering,” I say to Zoey and gape at her like a fool.
“Well, yours are not too bad as well,” she chuckles.
That’s not what I meant, but I’m not gonna say anything more to her. What I meant is, after she took the pill they have us on, a sudden spark puffed off across her face, but maybe it’d just been my perception. That’s how distracting her face is.
“It’s hitting me that, like, I could have my memories resuscitate by now if my prescription would come true, and that, you know, I could potentially relate to all these other people. And I’m not.”
“Oh, you’re like the most intricate of guys here.” She smirks and at some point, I know she’s poking fun at me. The strangest part is I like to be poked fun at by her. “You’re like ‘Oh, I can’t deal with how complicated my life is,’ and you’re not even able to have that, you know, bring memories back. Dude, just chill. You’ll come around.”
That wasn’t my point but I don’t wanna argue with her. Strongly, I know that if I did, somehow even if I caught her with the most fatuous of resolutions, I would’ve just let it slip by and pretend nothing was to be twigging into.
Under the membrane, there are air restoring techniques that help keep this environment vital. They seem to be pretty effective until now (even though it’s been like, what, a day since I’ve been here?) although I’m not sure how longer they can keep supplying all these much of people in here with the necessary quantums of air, needful per day. 'Cause if the air supplying methods here wouldn’t be righteous to keep us alive, then I don’t think us being within would be much different than the radioactive environment outdoors.
But, I’m just worrying way too much.
Maybe, Zoey is right. I should just lay back and chill for once.
Other part of the posse joins.
“Hey, Greyson,” Andrew slaps to grab my attention. (Greyson? Really?) “You gotta come around, dude. There’s a lot of chicks you could really use some mingling time.” He draws closer and crooks his head near mine, hands on my shoulder, while pointing at something across the dining room. “See, Brianne over there? Totally checking you out. I wouldn’t stay here whining over how bad not having your memories is, when I could be doing her.”
“Hey, hey,” Zoey adds herself up to the conversation which seemed to swirl around me, but that I wasn’t being a part of. “Easy over there. Forget how stressful regaining memory can be?”
“I’m just saying. It’s been a day and that’s the only thing he’s doing.”
“But, no one prescribed you to be his swingman.”
Augh. As if the swirl in my head that is swinging like a December snowicane isn’t enough, my dear friends over here (or whatever); they decide to make such a fuss over the fact that I’m not lively enough.
Well, excuse me for being too perplexed and fucked up by this whole ‘radioactive, non-livable world’ thingy!
“Okay, okay. I’m gonna do her.” I say, just so I can get away from that mess they are causing.
“Really, Greyson? Do her?” Zoey seems so disappointed at me, which I don’t understand.
“Hey, Andrew brought it up. These are his terms of endearment.” I try to justify myself and keep waddling towards Brianne on the other part of the room, who seems to have noticed my saunter towards her, and flashes a smile at me.
Okay.
I try to deal with this much of accommodation. She really seems to have adjusted herself. Well, couldn’t say the same about me. But maybe my friends are right. Maybe I’ll come around.
After all, it’s not like there’s much of a choice here, isn’t it?
“Can I?” I point at the chair next to her with my chin and try to sound amicable and not scare the girl. (Not that she seems like it anyway.)
“Yeah, sure.” She chuckles. “Some guy tonight has mentioned to me that your quantitively receptive adjusting is progressing different than the others’.”
“That’s true.”
“What do you think is causing that?”
“Hmm…” My eyebrows crook. Coming to think of it, I haven’t had the chance to give it much of a thought. Well, that sounded funny. Let me try again. I mean, of course, thinking about my fuzzlement is all I’ve been doing ever since I came here, by figuring the purpose why this thing is happening, must’ve slipped my mind. Funny, ‘cause these aren’t things that usually choose to slip by, but what can I say? I’ve been way over-dredged in contemplation. There’s only so much you can expect from a guy who struggles confusion.
Well, that’s me… that last day, at least, I think.
“What do you think is causing that?” I ask her, after deciding I don’t have a reasonable answer to give. Or unreasonable. Hmm, anyway. Just a reason whatsoever.
“I think there’s something about you.” She smiles. “Something different.”
“Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?” I frown, pretending to be worried. The smirk on my face totally ruins my attempt at pretending.
“I think that is yet to be determined. Though, my precocious, foreseeable insight decides on your favor.”
“That’s good.” I glint at her with my eyes. “’Cause any other predictions would be unacceptable.”
After a moment of soundlessness that embraces the room, which seems to have dragged all the posse members into thoughtfulness, Zoey decides to push through with what seemed to be a joyous whoopee that got us all hinged back in terror.
“I must say, there must be millions of more riveting things to tangle with, than this—whatever it is we’re doing right now. How about exploring the tower? I bet there are plenty of secretive spots we can sneak out to and kink out.”
“Do you always barge in like this, unexpectedly?” I say, obviously still unable to have gathered it up after her rumbustious attack of joy.
“You’ll get used to it,” she smiles kinkily, and grabs my hand to drag me through the hallway and out of some digital art chamber links, which I have no idea how she has found out about, though sure not gonna ask, at least not this every moment. The other guys, my friends (I guess,) have followed us and are looking excitedly at what Zoey has to represent all of us to.
The outdoors.
Now across the lawn, you can see the grass greener prolonging all the way through the surface and a couple of trees lodging in lively, and there’s nothing shocking or u
nexcepted that could make one gape over. Through there’s one thing. Something that had seemed to have grabbed my attention larcenously the first time I came across it.
A tree.
Now, don’t get me wrong. You’ll probably wonder. Hey, Greyson (is this becoming a thing now, my name? Um, anyway. I probably seem to be fond of it, or rather, of the way Zoey accentuate this random of a name, which I’m not sure—and highly doubt—that belongs to me,) why are you fuzzling us over a tree? What’s so special about a tree anyway? Have you never seen one before?
Well, of course I have.
And not…
I mean, not like this one anyway.
In botany, a tree represents a perennial plant consisting in roots that anchor it into the ground and absorb water and dissolve minerals, an elongated trunk that supports the branches which hold the leaves in the sunlight. Well, that’s what you learn in schools anyway. But this tree.
There’s something extraordinary about it.
There are lights substituting for leaves, enchanting lights, ones that look like magical. They flush away and sway asquint now and then and make the tree seem like thousands of magical fireflies are swirling around it, astonished as if bees around a honey pot.
“Wow,” Carter seems amazed. And so does Andrew and Cody, that is minus the smidge of shock.
“What is this thing?” I ask.
Instantly we approach towards it, stricken by the curiosity that has embraced all of us like snowy winter nights.
“It seems like a progressed, digital artifact to me,” Zoey chuckled.
But she makes a good point.
I mean, come on, a lightning tree? Where do you get to hear about such thing? Let alone see one?
“Guys, it’s not much that I remember from my past, but all the secretive, conglomeration of reminiscence inside me does not ring a bell about sparkling trees. What am I supposed to do with that?” I scowl nervously, voice a wee more than a groan. Well, it’s not like it’s their fault, although I felt like I needed to shout out at someone.
“He’s right,” Cody touched the tree stump. “This does feel bizarre. I mean, is a tree supposed to feel like that?”
Zoey touched the tree after him. She frowns for a moment, silently, just letting the terror sweep through all of us conjointly and then decides to break the silence. “I don’t know what a tree is supposed to feel like. I don’t know what we’re doing here, even though I’ve spent almost a week trying to make out of this place and the purpose of us rallying around…” she hesitates for a little segment and looks at all of us and then into her own hands like she’s giving up or something. I’d rather to know on what. “I’m just as confused as any of you are. I decided that if I let go of this perplexion, then maybe things would start to brighten up a little, be more lively and hopeful.”
“Have they?” I ask, and after a certain moment when she’s looking at me, befuddled, I decide to accrue my statement. “Have things begun to brighten up?”
“Ugh,” she groaned tired. It’s only been a week she’s been here for her to feel so exhausted of it. “I don’t know.”
The fatigue fracture her chords bear upon startles at me. I hate to see her this sad. But, really, am I just so empathic, or there’s something going on here? ‘Cause it’s really starting to worry me a little.
“It’s seems pretty effervescent to me for a radioactive atmosphere,” Cody decides to break off to another issue that has captured his mind. Doesn’t he realize we’re already muddled up as it is? I mean, come on dude, one coattails effect at a time. We’re not really that good on handling stress here.
But when we imply into what he’s referring to, I start to realize he’s actually making a point. It seems to us that this lawn is prolonging to… eternity?
I mean, don’t get me wrong, there’s always emphasis and confines when it comes to proprieties, but not when it’s about this very lawn. Its greenness seems to adjust itself all the way to where we can’t even fathom anymore.
“I mean,” Cody is already hopping around as to verifying to us that his point is validate. “It just doesn’t seem to end.” He keeps waddling forward.
“Cody,” Zoey yells at him, “be careful. We don’t know much about this place. If I were you, I wouldn’t be so high and mighty over crossing the lines so audaciously as you do.”
“That’s the point,” he objects. “We know nothing about this place.” Emphasis on ‘nothing’. “What if we’re all being lied to and there’s no such thing as this radioactive crap. What if the world is not toxic as we’ve been told and we’re being kept here hostages without even realizing that we are? I mean, come on, we came here all befouled and out of all proportions. Look at Greyson. He still is. Doesn’t this scream strange to you. ‘Cause I’ll tell you this. It does to me. Loudly.”
We’re all drenched into speechlessness. His resolution is so strong and accurate, it tinges recalcitrantly all sort of synapses into our heads. And boy are we contemplating.
“Guys, he’s right,” I decide to barge in. “What do we know about this place, except that is a shelter to protect us from all sorts of toxic elements which we don’t know are out there for sure.” I try to level up to where he’s lodging in. “What if this is all a lie? I mean, chances are it could be. Look around…” I take in as much as I can from the peacefulness of the lawn and green ambience about me. “It’s all so serene and… normal.”
They start to ruminate over it.
I do too.
“So, what do you say, Greyson? We go out there and risk our lives just because you’re too suspicious to believe some strangers that have been nothing but good to us?” Zoey’s voice crackles through the rapid inhales and exhales she processes continuously.
“There’s not much of a choice here. I mean, I don’t see one. You’d rather we stay here and surrender to wherever their vaster plan for us is? Yeah, right. I may be incognizant, but I’m not that obtuse.”
“Um, excuse me.” She’s mad at me. But, she shouldn’t be. She knows I didn’t mean it like that whatsoever. “Just because I don’t want to put my life into potential danger that may be out there, doesn’t make me obtuse.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Guys,” Cody determines to break off this fuss we’re making over something that started out as a fear from the unknown and turned into a silly fight over something that got twisted around and lost its meaning through the way. “I’m with Greyson at this. I’m not gonna stay here. We don’t know for sure earth is unlivable. And I’m not gonna succumb to these suspicious people that have collected us all up here, with God knows what motivation to put us to.”
Cody waddles forward the lawn and across. He keeps going through.
“Cody,” Andrew calls out. He’s been so silent during all this. But, he’s concerned. After all, who could blame him. At some certain point, these unexpected of situations have taken all of us into some shock/soundless-stricken horrification.
Cody refuses to acknowledge his call.
I try to stop him. Running towards him so that I could draw him back, at least for another couple of moments until we might have altogether come to a more reasonable conclusion, I grab him by the shoulder.
He turns back ferociously as someone who’s responding to a reflex when another person attacks them. Which I’m not obviously. All I’m trying to do is make him stop and ponder that going all alone out there is not better than being stuck to this place.
But he’s determined.
“If you wanna come Greyson, then welcome aboard. Otherwise, I’m gonna ask you nicely to get the heck out of my way. And you better oblige. ‘Cause I know if we come to a second call, it is not going to be so mild.”
“Man, loosen us. I’m just trying to help you.” I can understand he’s angry. But him going all slam-bang on me doesn’t make much of a sense. I mean, it’s not me stirring his perplexion. I’m not the bad guy here. In addition, I might say, I’m just rendering over the same state as
he is.
“Help me, how? Don’t you see none of this screams normal. And another more second here, I’m starting to freak out.” His talking got all of us soundless. We’re contemplating over what he’s trying to imply, being that we can relate… to all of it. “And I won’t anymore. I can’t do this.”
Next thing I know, I’m coruscated altogether by a pixelated state of emotiveness, which embraces me like a snowing swirl—and not a calmative, serene one furthermore—and stirs me up inside in a way I cannot clearly comprehend.
It’s the discomforting, horrendous feeling of shock.
I’m shocked at what is happening in front of me eyes.
I try to stop him. I know I do. It’s just that he’s so determined and decides to take on with his next step towards the forest of unknowingness. Like, how crazy should one be to go all alone someplace they’ve got no idea about the hazard it might behold? Or rather, how desperate? And if put in that way, well, he’s got all the right there is to do anything stupid like that.
“Greyson?” I hear Zoey scream out my name in terror and hysteria.
Next thing I hear is her voice, again on the same high-pitched, terror-stricken tone, calling out for Cody.
I’m so copulative at what has happened in front of me, I cannot gather my thoughts and make out of the swivet that has just taken place.
In spur of moment, just as he was about to take the next step towards the forest that prolongated across the lawn, Cody’s entire silhouette pixelated and—puff—disappeared out of nowhere, leaving us all terrified at these strange of events.
“What just happened?” After a moment of total obscureness that seemed like an eternity, we hear Brayden gathering up himself and making out those three words that we all were contemplating about, and were too scared and befuddled to spill out. “Where is Cody? Where did he go? Brayden?”
Now it’s hard to bear out as it is. Cody disobeying and taking on with this crazy field trip of his; I’m barely trying to hold out. Him disappearing in the blink of an eye as if he was a hologram; yet I’m still trying to not just erupt just as my head feels like doing. But having Andrew bearing me with this kind of burden and responsibility as asking me about this bizarreness is, well, that is so much to take… even for me.
Faking Apocalypse (The Apocalyptic Games Book 1) Page 2
