The Amber Project: A Dystopian Sci-fi Novel (The Variant Saga Book 1)

by JN Chaney

  He turned away, grief in his throat, ashamed at what had happened, at what he had let happen. How could he do this to them? What sense did any of it make?

  His eyes drifted through the room, eventually falling on the machine and the rift. It was still in the same position it had been since they found it, quietly hovering behind a layer of glass, spreading death and singing silently. But as he watched it, mercilessly lording over him, a fire in his heart began to grow, and it wasn’t long before he hated it completely. It was to blame for all the hurt, for all the death and moral decay. Everything wrong with the world stemmed from that initial moment, the single press of a button that spawned an eternity of horror. Right here.

  He stepped to the panel, sliding his hand along its surface. The pads were gone, so there would be no shutting it down remotely. They’d have to pack it up and go home. They’d brief the people back home, tell them the story, and who knows what would happen?

  Alex might still win, after all.

  Terry looked at Mei again. She’d stopped crying and had gone to examining John’s broken leg. “How’s it look?” Terry asked.

  “Not good,” she muttered. All the energy in her voice was gone.

  “Can you make it out of here, John?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” he answered. “Might be slow about it, but I can do it.”

  “Good,” said Terry. “Because I need you to leave now.”

  They both looked at him, their faces lost at the statement. “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked John.

  “I’m staying here to finish the job.”

  Mei stood up. “No,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Mei, but someone has to do it.”

  “No, someone doesn’t. No more. Let’s just go home. Please.” She sounded exhausted.

  “If we don’t do this now, it might never happen. You know there’s no choice.”

  “What about the pads?” asked John. “Aren’t they still the plan?”

  “They’re gone,” said Terry. “All except the one Alex left over there, and we need at least two.”

  Mei stepped closer, took him by the arm, and tried to pull him away. He didn’t move. “I won’t let you,” she said. “You can’t. I won’t let you!”

  “Let me go, Mei.”

  “If anyone’s staying, it’s me,” she said, frantically. “You don’t know what you’re doing!”

  “Mei…”

  “Shut up!” she said, her voice cracking. “Shut up, please.”

  He pulled her back, and she fell into him. He felt the warmth of her wet face on his neck, and he embraced her for as long as he could. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But you’ve saved us already. It’s my turn now.”

  “But you could die,” she said. “What if something happens?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “As soon as I shut it down, I’ll get out of here. You’ve seen how fast I am, right? Nothing to worry about. Besides, you have to take care of John. He can’t make it back by himself. He needs you.”

  “I need you both,” she pleaded. “You’re the only family I have.”

  He pushed her back and looked into her eyes. “And you’re mine, too,” he said. “That’s why you need to leave.”

  She let go of him, nodding slowly. “All you have to do is press a few buttons.” She showed him which ones and in what order. He thanked her and said he understood. “I don’t know what’ll happen next,” she said.

  “Most people don’t,” he told her. “And that’s okay.”

  She hugged him again, then silently went to John and helped him to his feet.

  “You’re sure about this?” asked John, wrapping his arm around Mei’s neck.

  “Yeah.”

  “How will you know we’re clear of the building?” he asked. “We don’t have our pads anymore.”

  “We have the one,” said Terry. “It can track your chips. I’ll wait until you’re far enough away.”

  “Good luck,” he said. “You’d better get out of here. Don’t make me come back to get you or I’ll be pissed.” He smiled. “You hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  John nodded and with Mei’s help, left. Terry watched them go, hobbling slowly through the observation deck and into the nearby hall. He grabbed the pad, set the display to follow their signals, and sat with his back against the machine. He waited.

  It took John and Mei nearly an hour to escape the building, then another ten minutes before they finally stopped on the other side of the solar field.

  Terry sighed, relieved, and shut the pad off. He then turned his attention to the final task.

  Touching the console before him, he swept his fingers over the dust. The buttons emitted a soft hue of red, reflecting off the surrounding metal.

  Terry began the process as Mei had described it, shutting down one system after the next. There were seven in all, and it took a few minutes. After the sixth, before the final step, he hesitated.

  He thought about the improbability of success in what he was doing, the risks he faced—how he might never go home, never see his friends again—and suddenly his heart began to ache. He imagined his sister’s face, not the one who existed now, because he didn’t know that young woman, but the girl from his memories, beautiful and innocent and loving. He might never see her again, but…she would have a chance, wouldn’t she? All of them would.

  And perhaps that could be his gift, something to make up for the promise he broke and the years wasted and the memories which never came to be. He hoped to see her again, somehow, wished she could love him again, there in some distant place.

  Terry stared into the abyss, deep within the darkness of the void. A tear streamed down his face, and then another. He felt warm and tired and alive, but most of all, he felt loved.

  Then he pressed the kill switch…and suddenly he was gone.

  Chapter 22

  Documents of Historical, Scientific, and Cultural Significance

  Open Transcript 616

  Subtitled: The Memoires of S. E. Pepper – Chapter 35, page 187

  March 19, 2185

  PEPPER: I attended a botany conference last September. We convened to discuss the possibility of building yet another farm—number thirteen, if memory serves.

  I’m sad to say I had very little to contribute and usually don’t in situations such as these. I hate politics, and the thought of debating the merits of growing one plant over the other bores me to no end.

  When I was in my twenties, nobody questioned the possibility of growing more food. You had to be crazy to say no to that. Not so anymore. Now, it all comes down to votes and handshakes, a tabletop of politicians, smiling niceties for cash.

  I sat through it all, drifting, justifying my existence with the same six words I always had—I came here for the drinks. I wondered if it was enough anymore.

  As it happened, I was sitting at the table, sipping my glass of delicious rosemary wine, still deciding whether or not to write this book, actually, when I overheard a man and a woman talking shop nearby. The woman had recently developed a new cooling method for the energy capacitors, which would reduce the city’s overall energy consumption by about 3%.

  For reasons that should seem obvious, I couldn’t help but feel a touch bored by their celebration. As I was losing interest, I heard the man say something that I’ll never forget. He said, “And the new capacitors won’t need to be replaced for forty years, at least. What an improvement! You’re bound to get a promotion off this.”

  Imagine that. All of their excitement over a trivial 3%. As far as I could tell, this particular oddity of capacitor design did absolutely nothing to solve the current predicament of living underground in an isolated bunker. It made no attempt at improving the conditions on the planet’s surface, no progress toward a state of normalcy. Instead, it was a letter of acceptance, bound in the conviction that there could be no going home.

  That was when it h
it me. The people are beginning to forget.

  Instead of planning for the trip home, instead of looking for ways to leave this place, we’ve settled into staying. They’ve resigned themselves—all our brightest minds—to work on better ways at hiding. Better capacitors, better air conditioning ducts, better street lamp bulbs. There’s no point, they think, in solving the air problem on the world overhead when we can extend our stay in this lovely little hovel to some indefinite end. Why take the risk? Let’s not worry about the problem when the alternative is so much easier.

  Humanity has forgotten in a single generation the joys and splendor of a thousand more before it. When all the old ones are gone—myself soon to be among them—not a single soul still living can say they knew the world before the fall, before violet covered blue, and the Earth turned inside out.

  Futile as it may be, and with a shadow of a childhood dream, I would ask whoever reads this book, whoever cares enough to listen…that you would not forget. There is more to the world than these hollow walls of metal, encased in stone and mud. The sky, the sun, the stars—each is a miracle, built for eyes that cannot see them, screaming out for us to come. There are cities a hundred times the size of this one, built by kings for millions more, their towers raised as tall as gods. Beyond them lies an endless sea with fleets of ceaseless waves, bending at the neck. And higher still, a myriad of stars, blanketing the heavens.

  The universe exists, I tell you! And it’s waiting for the artists to come back.

  End File

  January 10, 2347

  The Surface

  John stood in the open field, two hundred yards from where the world had ended, where the new one might begin, and where his oldest friend had stayed behind.

  Mei was beside him, shouldering his weight because he wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own. His body throbbed with the pain of a broken leg and several bruised ribs. It was all he could do to breathe.

  Mei shuttered in the cold air, though she never complained. It was clear that her concern for Terry overshadowed everything else. John loved her for that. He loved her for a lot of things.

  A small gust blew through the valley, numbing his cheeks and neck and filling his lungs. It made the pain slightly more bearable. No matter how bad the situation seemed, there were always positives, no matter how small.

  John watched the entrance to the facility, waiting for Terry to emerge. Any minute now, he told himself. Then we can go home.

  He chewed his lip impatiently, imagining the relief he was going to feel when he saw his friend. He’d belt him in the arm for taking so long. Tell him he knew he could do it. Tell him how proud he was. Yeah, thought John silently, It’s exactly what I’ll—

  Loud thunder erupted in the distance, echoing through the field, lingering a while. John scanned the building, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. “What the hell was that?” he asked.

  Before Mei could answer, they heard another one. It snapped like a whip, making them flinch. The sudden movement caused Mei to drop John’s arm, and he fell backwards. She tried to catch him, but he only pulled her down with his weight.

  Overhead, high in the sky, the clouds swirled, quickly moving toward the field and the facility. Lightning flashed between them, randomly, chaotically. Mei hugged his arm and he held her close.

  The wind blew hard against them, fettering the grass and shaking the solar panels so hard John was sure the glass would shatter. Before their very eyes, the sky transformed into a miniature hurricane, its eye directly over the Ortego building.

  “What’s happening?” screamed John.

  Mei, still clinging to his arm with all her strength, buried her face in his shoulder. “It’s the machine!” she yelled. “He’s done it! It’s happening!”

  The chaos grew and built upon itself, bellowing streams of thunderous cries. Soon the sky was set ablaze—a hurricane of madness.

  The second Jolt had come. It was the end of the world all over again.

  John tried to sit up so he could see the Ortego building, but the force of the wind was strong. If he got to his feet, there was a very real possibility that it would carry him away. Still, he managed to lift his head enough to see the building still standing, though he feared it wouldn’t be for long.

  John felt the ground begin to shake beneath them. The shockwaves rattled his wounds and he clenched his teeth and squeezed his fists, ignoring what he could of it.

  A sharp pop came from behind them, and John looked to see one of the fever killers collapse, its coils snapping like rubber bands, flying apart and into the storm. Another one from across the field soon followed, then another, until there were no more left. The bodies of a dozen metallic monsters circled the distant building like a halo of destruction.

  This is the end! Cried John, silently. God, what have we done?

  As if to answer, the wind suddenly died, and the debris it carried fell to the ground. At the same time, the tremoring ground began to slow, finally stopping altogether.

  Mei got to her feet, then helped John to his. “Are you okay?” she asked him. “I thought for sure we—”

  An earsplitting BOOM shook the earth, as though the very land itself had split in half. A bright light filled the sky above Ortego, sending a shockwave back so hard that it nearly knocked them down again. John shielded his eyes, catching himself on his broken leg, and he screamed something terrible. Mei managed to get under his chest, holding him with the strength of her shoulders. “I’ve got you!” she cried.

  Within seconds, the light dissipated. John clutched Mei by the arms, trying to focus his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, desperately. “What the hell was that?” But before she could answer, he saw it for himself.

  The Ortego building was gone. Only a crater remained.

  *******

  They stayed and searched the field for hours, but there was no sign of Terry or any major section of the building. They only found a few scattered scraps of metal and FlexCrete, hardly enough to warrant much hope.

  Without a word, they got what they could and left. John created a makeshift splint for his leg, while Mei managed to find a fitting crutch for him to use. It was fashioned from part of a broken fever killer. The crutch was adequate, and it nearly doubled their speed, though it wasn’t saying much.

  Mei suggested they make camp at the base of the hill. There wasn’t much food left, so they ate what they could and rationed what little water still remained.

  John awoke several times throughout the night. He could hear Mei sobbing to herself, curled in a ball, her face buried in her arm. He went to her eventually, saying nothing, and held her in his arms. She wept longer than he cared to measure, her tears running down his arms and chest, drying on his skin. After a time, her sobs began to fade, replaced by heavy snoring. This time she didn’t wake until the morning.

  *******

  January 11, 2347

  The Surface

  John was relieved when Sarah found them. She approached the camp as they were packing the supplies. She’d kept her promise and followed after all.

  “We didn’t know if we’d see you again,” Mei said.

  “Neither did I,” she admitted.

  “Did you get through to Central?” asked John.

  She nodded. “They ordered me home. Unfortunately, the signal cut out before I got the order.” She winked.

  “Lucky for us,” said Mei.

  “Don’t know about lucky,” said Sarah. “But I’m here to help. Whatever you need.”

  They started home again, and on the way, Mei replayed the events in the order they occurred. She told Sarah about the tunnels and the city, then talked about the night they spent in the park, the journey across the bridge and up the hill and into fields. When she finished explaining what had happened inside the Ortego building with Alex and the machine, Sarah’s eyes sunk to the ground, and she was quiet for a long time. When she finally spoke again, it was to ask John how
he felt and to suggest they stop and rest.

  They did, and John took the opportunity to rewrap his splint. Nobody ate, though Sarah insisted John drink some water. When they finally left, the sun had risen to its peak, and the afternoon heat consumed them.

  *******

  They chose to walk around the city, rather than go through it. There was little point in taking the tunnels, subjecting themselves to its dangers, especially given John’s injuries. They had barely survived that place the first time around.

  Unfortunately, with the open road came the heat. Mei suggested they only travel at night, which the others agreed to. They waited under the FlexCrete bridge at the river and then went on after dusk.

  They found that traveling under the light of the moon was far less tiring, which, considering their water supply was nearly depleted, seemed like a good thing.

  Because of his injuries, the girls insisted John drink what he could of the water. He didn’t argue, but whenever they handed him the canteen, he only pretended to sip from it, and they believed it. Still, despite his best efforts, by the time they reached the first transmission tower, the rest of the water was gone.

  *******

  John passed out on the road. He had never fainted before. He was surprised to find his body so useless, walking along and suddenly collapsing because his legs stopped working. It scared him. After he fainted the third time, Mei insisted they stop.

  Sarah tried radioing Central a few times, but it was no use. The equipment was fried. They’d have to make it home on their own.

  John passed out again. He barely had the energy to stand, and sleeping felt like a tremendous relief. He dreamed a few times, though they were mostly nightmares. He imagined Terry with the machine, all alone, and screaming for someone to help him. John heard his cries and ran to him, but no matter how fast he went, he could never get there in time. Terry always died.