“At least you have two good legs to walk on.”
“Kyle can help you,” Jack offered.
“That’s okay. My leg is actually feeling better. I’ll follow behind so James doesn’t squish me if he falls.”
“Okay then, Kyle, drive safely. I’ll see you soon.” Jack gave his driver a brief hug and then gestured for James to lead Dawn to the stairs.
“You’re not coming with us?” Mykl asked Kyle disappointedly.
“Afraid not,” replied Kyle. “Don’t worry, we’ll meet again.” He extended his hand to Mykl, who shook it.
Mykl’s ears popped twice during the long descent in the elevator. When they finally stopped, the doors opened to reveal a sleek, black, bullet-shaped tram car awaiting them atop narrow-gauge tracks. A cool draft whispered from an eight-foot-wide half-moon-shaped opening before the lead car.
Jack slid open the tram doors. “All aboard.”
Mykl stepped inside. “Wow!” Indirect lighting showed four rows of plush seats, three deep, filling its interior. Soft gray carpeting lined the rest of the inner surfaces. “This is nice. What was this all made for, Jack?”
“It’s a secret government installation.”
“Well, duh,” Mykl intoned, “that much is obvious. As I think we’re all beyond the point of no return now, can you tell us exactly what secret organization you’re with? I know it’s not the FBI, and it’s certainly not Child Protective Services.”
“Would you believe the NSA?”
Mykl gave Jack a blank stare.
“How about the Center for Implementation of Alien Technologies?”
“CIAT? Now you’re teasing me.”
“Patience, Mykl.” Jack guided him to a seat. “I promise I will tell you who I work for when we get to the other side.”
The other side of what, Mykl couldn’t begin to guess.
Dawn and James sat in the back. Dawn held her book to her chest as if it were a shield to ward off danger. James kept one hand resting on the dot pages sitting on his lap as he looked out the window. The walls glistened like glass and conjured the illusion of flying underwater. A gentle pushback feeling into the plush seat offered the only evidence of motion.
“It doesn’t even feel like we’re touching the rails,” Mykl said.
“We’re not. The rails are for backup now. Our current system uses magnetic strips encircling the tram for levitation and propulsion. It’s extremely smooth and efficient.”
“You’ve got no complaints from me,” Dawn said.
“I’m glad to hear it. We’ll be at our destination in about ten minutes.” Jack yawned. “Then you can settle in and get some decent sleep.”
Ten minutes later, the invisible force pushing Mykl relaxed, then slightly pulled him forward, as the tram slowed to a stop. Jack pushed a button above him, and the doors slid open to reveal a vestibule almost identical to the one they had just left, along with another blast door.
Mykl tapped Jack on the shoulder. “I understand the possible need for blast protection up top, but down here, a half mile below ground?”
“That’s precisely why it’s needed—and there are actually two doors at this location, another behind this one. Faults crisscross the area, and a large enough earthquake could crack the tunnel wall, allowing groundwater to flood in. The two-door system enables us to send in a rescue crew without endangering those on the other side.”
Mykl walked over to examine the shiny wall—his limp was much less pronounced now. The wall was smooth, dry, crystal clear, and looked to be about five inches thick with an underlying metal lattice of some sort.
“We developed a technology that can draw the carbon out of the rock and crystallize it. Once crystallized, it’s deposited back on the surface to seal and enhance structural support.”
Mykl rapped the surface with his knuckles. “Crystallized carbon? Isn’t that…”
“Yes. Diamond,” Jack said. He assisted Dawn out of the tram.
Eighteen miles of five-inch-thick diamond. Mykl ran fingers along its surface. Enough diamond gleamed under his tiny hands to ensure a comfortable living for the rest of his life. The value of an entire tunnel was unfathomable.
Jack must have read his thoughts. “If you think that’s valuable, it’s nothing compared to the value of what’s being protected on the other side.”
Jack opened the first door and ushered his adoptees into a sort of airlock. “Safety protocols prevent me from opening both doors at once,” he said. He closed the first door behind them, then opened the second. “I welcome you to the City.”
Mykl walked through the door to a precipice overlooking a cavern that was almost inconceivably immense. He felt like a single plankton being swallowed by a whale. An entire city spread out before them, its buildings sprouting from the bedrock like glistening windowed stalagmites. The streets were bustling as open-topped vehicles noiselessly made their way around. From far above, artificial light from long strips filled the space with a pleasant warm glow.
Mykl felt his mouth getting dry and realized he had been standing there with it hanging open. He closed it and shot a glance at Jack, who had been observing his reaction.
“All right, we’re inside now. You promised to tell me who you work for,” Mykl said.
“I work for myself,” Jack said. “I am the director of this facility and am in charge of the mission for which it was conceived. After World War II, our government commissioned a panel to determine the best way to avoid and counter any potential threats that might arise in the future, so as not to be caught by the unexpected ever again. The solution is what you see here: a clandestine collection of the best minds in the world, all working on problems that threaten our world today—or may threaten it in the future.”
Mykl was fascinated, but his body was exhausted; he couldn’t hold back a yawn.
“There is much more to tell,” Jack said, “but we all need to get some sleep first.”
“One more thing,” Mykl demanded.
“What’s that?”
“What is your real name?”
Jack chuckled. “I don’t think you would believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“Jack Smith.”
Mykl rolled his eyes. Dawn chortled, and James fidgeted with his dots. “You’re right,” Mykl said. “I don’t believe it. But we’re here, and this place looks a lot more interesting than the asylum, so you can be whoever you want to be: Jack Grey, Jack Green, Jack Smith. It’s all the same to me.”
“You forgot one,” Jack said with a kind smile.
A multi-seated cart hummed to a stop in front of them, and a man in a white lab coat got out and walked up to Jack. “Hello, Rip. Welcome back. Love the new look.”
“Thanks, Tony. I’d like to introduce you to our new arrivals, Dawn, James, and Mykl.” He gestured to each in turn with an open hand.
Tony looked them over. “You guys look like you haven’t slept in days. Hop in the cart and I’ll take us down into the City. We’ll get you a quick breakfast and then settle you into your rooms.”
The City grew in size as they rode toward it in tired silence. Mykl struggled to keep his eyes open, and his head kept falling forward against his will. He felt James’s arm reach across him to hold him up. It was like having a warm secure seatbelt. His thoughts drifted like clouds through an evening sky, and images appeared in his mind like stars peeking through the haze. Faces of children in the Box, a pouncing kitten, a white page with strange symbols, a twisted length of metal, a blinding flash, and—his body twitched—a pair of eyes he didn’t recognize. His last clear thought before succumbing to sleep was: I’m going home with Jack the Ripper.
CHAPTER 28
Dawn arrived at her room after a brief visit to the infirmary. She hoped the analgesic they had given her would tame her wild headache. James and Mykl had already gone to their own private rooms in the short time she was away; she suspected both were already fast asleep.
An infirmary assistan
t walked her through the room’s layout and amenities. The walls contained sensors for simple touch commands. Should she find herself disoriented in her new domain, she need only tap any wall twice with a finger, and a chime would sound over the exit. Three taps for the bathroom. She benefited from a memory quite sufficient to recall the location of two openings without the need for cues, but it felt discourteous to dismiss her guide when he was trying to be supportive. A constant tapping, she was told, was for emergencies, and would summon help immediately.
With her guide now gone and Dawn enjoying true privacy for the first time in her life, she had only one thing on her mind. Without need of chimes, she left a trail of asylum clothes in a beeline to the bathroom. Standing naked in the dark, she faultlessly located the control panel for the deep tub and tapped in the commands for a hot bath. Jasmine-scented. With bubbles!
After many years of being tub-deprived, she luxuriated in steamy silence until her fingers had pruned to her satisfaction. Reluctantly, she opened the drain and toweled off. Using the damp towel as a barrier to protect her new freshness from the foul discards of asylum life, she plucked her old clothes from the carpet and deposited them into the trash. Among drawers filled with necessities, she found a nightgown softer than anything her fingertips had ever experienced. The silky feel of it slipping along her body made her quiver with feminine sensuality.
She ran fingers through damp hair and pulled a tress across her face. The delicate floral scent still lingered. Going to bed with damp hair was going to make for a mean case of bedhead when she woke, but—she smiled—nothing another bath couldn’t cure.
The bedsheets welcomed her as softly as her gown. Plunging her head into the fluffy pillows, she gave a heavenly sigh.
As Dawn finally succumbed to fatigue, the bed drew her deeper into the depths of its sumptuous spell. Her breathing slowed and her heartbeat swam to a slow pulse in her neck. The pulse slowly traversed to a throb in the back of her head. The throb began drumming on her consciousness. She awoke to a pounding monster in her skull that would not stop as long as her heart still beat.
Disoriented by a bed suddenly grown too large and walls in the wrong places, Dawn grabbed handfuls of hair and rolled to escape the pain. She fell to the carpet and crawled, flailing an arm in front of her until it hit something solid and flat. Survival instinct kicked in, and she began slapping it over and over. Through the viscous haze of her hellish headache she sensed the object of her attention was not a wall but a drawer. In anguish, she twisted her body and reached out with her other hand. It met with something more solid. She tapped it twice. A chime added its din to the roaring beast in her skull. The walls, a moment ago so far away, now threatened to crush her skull like a vise. Lying flat on her back, she fought to focus purely on her fist and its beat against the wall.
Pounding.
Pounding.
Pounding.
CHAPTER 29
Mykl rolled over in search of a clock, but didn’t find one. How long did I sleep? He experimentally flexed his leg. Much better range of motion now. It was healing quickly.
Eating French toast and drinking real orange juice was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep. He must have conked out right at the table and been carried to bed. He was certain he would have remembered this bed if he had been awake for it: it was huge. From his warm spot in the middle, he couldn’t stretch a hand or foot to any of the edges. And he was dressed in incredibly comfortable dark blue pajamas. They must have filled these with my limp body before pouring me into bed.
The walls of his room glowed with enough light to see by, but by what means, he couldn’t tell. There were no lamps, light fixtures, or switches; the surfaces themselves emitted the glow. Mykl pulled the covers over him and crawled to the wall—still not leaving his bed—to investigate. Touching the wall caused a perfect square to illuminate under his fingertip, which disappeared the instant he removed it. He placed his palm where the square had been, and a larger version of the square materialized. He slid his hand to the side, and the lit square followed, cool under his palm. He rapidly slid his hand up—and the entire room was illuminated with a blinding white light.
Mykl quickly dove back under the covers, blinking furiously. Wow, that was amazing! Venturing a guess as to how the lights operated, he snaked an arm out from under the covers and dragged his hand down the wall. The light dimmed appreciably, but it took a few moments for the afterimage of his silhouetted hand to fade from his retinas.
With the light finally at a comfortable level, he rose from the bed and walked around, examining his living space. It had a simple design, yet it was downright palatial compared to the Box. Along with his bed, he had a dresser, closet, bathroom, and a desk with the largest computer screen he had ever seen. One dresser drawer even held dozens of new socks. Mykl slipped on a pair, then wiggled his toes through cottony rapture, reveling in their luxurious springiness.
His first day of freedom in his new home fueled his desire to live. And not at the computer. He was too wound up for that. Something active, something fun, something…
The bed loomed in front of him. A crooked smile erupted into a broad grin on his face. His mother had never let him do it. It’s too dangerous, she’d always said. But Mykl had endured a year living under the oppression of the Asylum Angel—he was confident he could survive a few moments jumping on a comfy bed.
With a running leap, he dove into the air and landed in the center. Rotating his knees underneath him, he tentatively began bouncing around the bed’s perimeter. The ceiling called to him, so he tumbled back to the center and used the bed like a trampoline. Each jump took him higher and higher, but there wasn’t enough spring effect to allow him to touch the ceiling. It didn’t matter. This was still the greatest thing ever. Every kid should have this much fun, he thought. He bounced on his butt, back to his feet, then grabbed his knees to his chest and cannonballed from corner to corner…
The sheets had him entangled when a sharp knocking came from the other side of his door. Oh, crap. The last thing he needed was to get in trouble on his first day here.
“One second!” he yelled, flinging off the sheets and fleeing to the bathroom. He turned on the tap and splashed cool water on his face to mask the sweat built up in his exuberant acrobatics. Only then did he crack open the bedroom door.
A friendly-looking woman in a light blue smock peered down at him and smiled.
“Hello, Mykl. My name is Heather. The doctor would like to take a look at your leg again—if you’re up to it.” She must have noticed the moisture on his face and his heavy breathing, because she kneeled to feel his forehead. “Are you okay? You seem a little feverish.”
“Yeah, I was… testing my new socks by running around the room,” he said. He knew it sounded stupid the moment it left his mouth.
“Running?” she asked, her face awash in surprise. “I’m sure the doctor will be very interested in such a rapid recovery.”
Great. Just great. I’ve earned myself another shot. Frowning, he asked, “Is it Stan that wants to see me?”
“No. Dr. Johnson is on assignment outside the City. Dr. Lee is in charge until he gets back.” She stepped back and motioned for him to come with her. “You’re fine in your pajamas and socks if you like; we won’t be going far.”
“Okay.” Mykl slipped through the door, only opening it enough to allow him to pass, lest Heather see the mess he had made of the bed and figure out what he had really been doing. He didn’t need any more trouble in his life. “Can James come too?” he asked.
“That’s our next stop,” Heather replied. “He’s right down the hall.”
The gray-green carpet squished soundlessly under Mykl’s sock-clad feet as they walked the short distance. Mykl reached up to knock, then paused. Light leaked from beneath the door, and a heavy thumping sound came from inside. He dared not look back at Heather. James, develop some common sense in the next two seconds, he sent telepathically through the door.
&nb
sp; Knocking hard, he yelled loudly, “James, there’s a lady out here to take us to see the doctor!”
“Cooomes iiins!” James yelled from inside. The thumping continued.
Mykl steeled himself, then opened the door.
A room set at maximum brightness assailed him. Thousands of colored polka dots randomly appeared and disappeared on surfaces everywhere. James, dressed in the same navy blue pajamas and bright new socks as Mykl, was jumping and flopping all around the bed, having the time of his life. Mykl looked up at Heather, shrugged, and lifted his hands in resigned defeat.
“Hellooos!” James said. “This funs, Mykls! You should tries!”
“I see James has figured out how to access the ambiance settings for the room,” Heather said. She sounded unbothered by it, though she did squint against the nauseating light show.
“James, get down from there!” Mykl demanded, hands on his hips. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is?”
“Aaawww.” James awkwardly plopped onto the bed with his butt, and barely missed careening into a wall on the rebound.
James joined them in the hallway, and they continued on only a few steps before passing a darkened room on the left. Peering in, Mykl saw Dawn’s book sitting on the desk. “Dawn?” he called into the darkness.
“Those are her quarters, but she’s already at the infirmary with the doctor,” Heather said.
“Oh.” The room’s lack of light left him feeling somber, but then again, Dawn had no need of lights or ambiance settings. “James, how did you figure out how to make all those dots?”
“Accidents.”
“Why does that not surprise me?”
Mykl ducked a playful swat from James.
Heather laughed. “Simple settings can be accessed by touching two fingers to any wall,” she offered. “More complex designs and images can be found in your room computer. A number of live feeds do a spectacular job of creating an open-air illusion. It’s an effective remedy if you start to feel stir crazy from living in an enormous cavern.”
The Prometheus Effect Page 14
