by Zac Strong
Time creeps by. It’s just me and this place now, everything else has vanished. I reach for my throat with a little resistance from the IVs on my arm. It’s sore. I can barely swallow my spit. How long have I been here?
The oxygen mask strapped to my face close-lines me, swiftly stopping me from rising. Throwing it over my head, I toss my legs off the side of the bed. It stands taller than I expected. White
sheets wrinkle under a worn grey blanket. Looks warm. I’m not interested in warm.
Sliding off the edge I rip the IV from my arm. When my feet hit the tile, shockwaves shoot up my spine. My legs quiver, but at least they still function. Four dark walls tower over me. There’s a dim light peeking from under the door. It illuminates the thin layer of fog that eerily begins to crawl over the vacant grey tile.
One step closer towards the light and my legs are begging me to get back in bed. The Lethe Corp eagle plastered on the backside of the door watches me closely. It stalks me waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Reaching for the door handle, I take a deep breath and pull it open allowing the low light of the hallway to conquer the ghastly room. My curious eyes see no one.
A quick peek from around my doorway- nothing. A bleak, empty hall stretches towards a quiet, smoky exit with no one in sight in either direction. The air is dry and warm with an undertone of something burning. There’s a closed-door every couple of feet each under its own pale light, a few of them out.
I take a step out of the room, and immediately feel the ground shake beneath me. The doors rattle. The lights flicker. After a few seconds, everything is normal again. My brain struggles to decide if this is real or not, expecting the infirmary to crumble any second now.
I step past the nurses’ station, still no one in sight. My heartbeat thuds against the walls of my chest. My palms begin to sweat. The infirmary walls remain intact. The night outside the windows at the end of the hall shimmers uninterrupted. Where is everyone?
The sound of a small explosion beneath this floor faintly brushes against my eardrum. The ground rumbles again. My left-hand finds the countertop of the nurse’s station for balance as one of the paintings of a simple sunset falls from the wall, crashing to the ground near the doorway behind me. The gap between the truth and my mind’s assurance of this reality is quickly met with the screech of the screaming fire alarm.
The lights go out.
The entire building falls dark.
A red flash cuts through the darkness blinking in sync with the alarm beginning its hallowed cry.
The stomping of boots. Stairwell to my right. I’m frozen. My legs ignore my plea for retreat. I should’ve listened to them when I had the chance.
The footsteps are getting closer. They’ll be in front of me at any second. Focus, Palin. The sound of the doors slamming open on the floor below me is all that can be heard in between the wails of the fire alarm. Think.
Another explosion. This one’s down the hall towards the rear exit. The blast sends my ears ringing as two nurses scream from around the corner, frantically running in my direction.
It’s Jacee. The other nurse I don’t recognize. He’s bleeding, holding his arm close to his chest. It looks burned.
In my peripheral, I catch the silhouette of a man in the stairwell door window. Instincts react. I grab Jacee just in time and throw her over the nurses’ station counter. Falling on top of her, we land just as another explosion sends pieces of the stairwell door scattered around us amid fire and debris.
My hand moves quickly to cover her mouth.
Multiple sets of footsteps moving in all directions surround us. They’re everywhere. Maybe they won’t see us. Maybe we’re safe.
Horrified, Jacee begins to sob. Terror leaks from her sapphire eyes. They widen as they scream for her life. I can feel her emotion. Uncovering her mouth, I raise one finger over my lips. She nods quickly as a couple of tears drip down her cheeks.
Packets of gunfire screech from outside the infirmary. Sounds close like it’s just on the other side of the concrete.
Lifting my head from under my arms, I peek. Dust and hunks of debris roll off me. Thick smoke surrounds us. The sound of the alarm screams throughout my damaged mind. Stunned, confused, ears ringing, blood pouring down the side of my face, my eyes lock with a stranger standing over us.
My stomach knots.
The blinking red of the alarm reflects off the face of a tall burly man. He looks different like he doesn’t fit in here. His eyes burn the color of hot sand. His hair is salty and longer than mine, with streaks of grey and blue. He looks peculiarly older than anyone around here. He wears a tattered, worn face that you can tell has seen some shit. A thin scar branded on his cheek stretches from just under his left eye to the corner of his lips. His broad shoulders are draped with thick clothing - old, frayed rags knotted together with pieces of metal trash and stained dark for camouflage. He points his weapon directly at me. Molon Blaster, standard issue for Lethe officers. Probably stolen.
Jumping back, I position myself to better cover Jacee. She whimpers hysterically. I defiantly stare into his eyes. Light-headed.
Scared. Confused. Everything is moving too fast to process. Suddenly it’s a struggle not to pass out.
The sound of metal clinking behind him is hardly audible from the howling of the alarm. He stares at me for a second, blaster still raised to my face, and smirks. In one swift motion, the mysterious intruder turns back towards the smoldering hole he created in the stairwell and disappears into the smoke. Three more follows close behind carrying backpacks of stolen supplies.
Who are they?
Where did they come from?
After a few minutes, the gunfire stops. The alarm continues to scream, but the chaos is over from the looks of it.
“Palin,” Jacee snivels.
“Yeah?” I reply as I roll off her and collapse on the smoky tile utterly exhausted and probably dying.
“Thank you,” she cries as she unexpectedly buries her face into my chest. Her tears dampen the infirmary gown I didn’t realize I was wearing.
I hesitantly wrap my trembling arm around her as she sobs. I’ve never really been the consoling type.
In between her short rapid breaths, she cries, “I can see why Kalli risked it for you.”
“Risked what?” I mutter, thrown off balance.
“Risked her memories, trusting Lethe…”
“What are you talking about, Jacee? She would never trust Lethe.” I listen carefully as she props herself up against the base of the dusty counter. The stomping of Lethe security teams and guard droids marching up the stairwell becomes noticeable. Their boots like a metronome, strike the floor in rhythm.
“Kalli was selected for the Delta Project. It’s in her file. Obviously, she didn’t want to lose you.”
My heart sinks. Tears escape my eyes and drip down my face. No… Why would she even volunteer? Why would she risk everything? I told her I would make her remember. I told her to trust me. “Wait, did she die before or after Lethe uploaded her memories to their servers?” My attention surrenders completely. I’m hanging onto her every word as I struggle to take even a shallow breath in the still smoky atmosphere of the desecrated infirmary.
“I don’t know.”
Her reply physically knocks me back. The weight of the entire city has been dropped on my chest, crushing me. I start to hyperventilate as I lose control of my lungs. My eyes widen. My heart explodes into my chest. “So, there’s a chance Kalli’s alive?”
“Her memories.. maybe, she died after they took her from the infirmary, but without a living body, she’s… I don’t know an easy way to word this. If she’s in their servers, her mind is neither dead nor alive but trapped in a state of suspension, on pause. Her memories and experiences would still exist, but there’s no way for her consciousness to continue outside the loop of her own life.”
My eyes can no longer keep up with the spinning in my head. I feel my blood pressure rising. My a
rm extends, bracing
myself against the counter. The red strobe fills my eyes entirely. The sound of the alarm distorts. Reality becomes wrinkled. Touched by the cold, familiar sting, the infirmary spirals down into the darkness until darkness is all that remains.
I open my eyes and I’m standing in the middle of a foreign street. Everything is uncannily bright and more intense than normal. Something is definitely off. I can’t quite pin it.
My eyes wander across rows of towering skyscrapers until they spot something moving from behind one of the glass buildings.
I step closer trying to figure out what I’m looking at as I can’t shake the feeling that things feel out of place.
It’s a giant screen, but on the screen is a video of itself.
Seconds later, the voice of a goddess breaks the newly set stillness. I can’t help but smile. It’s her. She’s here.
I turn to her and our eyes connect. In them, I see my everything. . She’s radiant, all the stars in the universe fall dim to her light. No other beauty can possibly hope to compete.
“Kalli!” I gasp.
“Do I know you?” she asks as she steps closer to me mystified. The blank look on her face sends chills down my spine.
I don’t understand what’s happening.
With her brow raised in suspicion, she asks again, “Do I know you?”
“It’s me. Palin. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay now.”
She steps closer, and insistently asks again in the same monotone as before, “Do I know you?” Her face smiles but, it’s not her behind those cold crimson eyes.
No.. This isn’t right. This can’t be. That’s not my Kalli.
What’s happening?
“Do I know you?”
“Do I know you?”
She keeps repeating herself as she draws closer.
The lower half of me dissolves and I lose all control of my body. My hands try to push my ears in the most desperate attempt to block her echo, but they don’t move.
She’s inches from my face.
I slam my eyes shut as I scream.
“Stop! Make it stop!”
All is quiet for a few seconds.
I hesitate to open my eyes.
Awake.
Back in bed in the infirmary room. Jerking my neck erratically from left to right, then back left. No hint of her. She’s gone again. She was just a dream.
The distinct remnant of old smoke lingers in the air. A fresh blanket comfortably covers my lower half. The TV is off. All is quiet. Hope appears to have run away with my sanity.
My eyes start to water again, and I feel like I’m about to puke. I’m not sure if I’m still dreaming, or perhaps the dream was real this whole time. My memories lie to me. If this isn’t real, then I have nothing to worry about. It’s all in my head. One really bad dream. I’ll wake up and she’ll be lying beside me. I’ll kiss her on her forehead, and never let her go. This isn’t real! This isn’t happening to me. An idea collides with the front of my mind, as I urgently search for something to make this real, something to wake me up from this nightmare. I just need to know.
My runny eyes land on a small shard of glass wedged between the corner of the wall and the door where the Lethe eagle is perched. I jerk the IV out again and beg my legs to not fail me. They lock and weaken as I sluggishly stand. Stumbling a few steps towards the door I pick up the shard of glass. I have to know if this is real.
The machine I was attached to beeps noisily, but its cry for attention goes ignored. Nervously, I hold out my shuddering arm palm up. This is what my life has come to. The edge of the glass presses against my clammy skin, my hands tremble. I want to cry, but my body won’t let me.
My flesh rips open. The glass slits into my arm, right under the name they gave me forever in ink. Bright red liquid flows from the line I draw. It drips down my arm, to my fingers, and splatters on the tile beneath me. The warmth stings. It burns. My veins empty into the floor, and I smile. It’s nice to feel something.
The glass rings out as it falls from my bloody hand, crashing on the floor at my feet. My back hits the wall, and I slide down into a small puddle of my own blood.
I feel it.
I feel everything.
Seeping through my gown, the blood spreads like wildfire stretching to my legs. My head becomes light. Specks of color hinder my eyes. This is real. I’m still alive. At least I know.
A knock at my door interrupts my moment of enlightenment. It flings open, and a woman’s scream clashes against my ears, Jacee’s scream. She rushes to me slamming the door behind her. “What have you done!?” she asks, making no attempt to mask the sincerity in her words. “You’re dead set on offing yourself, huh?” She grabs a towel, and shoves it into my arm, keeping pressure on it until it too runs red with blood.
“It’s not like that this time,” I mumble. “It’s.. just..” I pause mid-sentence realizing the alternative sounds equally as shitty.
It’s cold. The blood’s starting to thicken. It oozes from my hand and around the bottom seam of my gown like the mechanical grease I usually end up wearing home from the plant. My other arm fails me as I try to lift myself out of the puddle. She wraps around my neck, bracing me, just before I slip, and guides me to the bed. I regret realizing she’s the only person I’ve touched since Kalli. A sense of betrayal streams through me, but I let it slide under the circumstances.
I flop down on the bed and take my shift holding the red-stained rag. Some blood drips on the wrinkled sheets like paint stuck
in clouds of satin. She runs out to the hall wordless, only to frantically return moments later with more rags and a roll of tape. Her hands are swift and move diligently against my bloodstained skin.
“Ya know, I worked a little with her this cycle,” she says innocently peering into my eyes.
Why is she looking at me like that?
“I just wanted to say Kalli was a really nice person, and I’m sorry about what happened. If you want, I can try to find out more, see how far she made it before..”
“I’d like that,” I nod trying my hardest to be polite, trying even harder to hold back the tears shaped by the mere fucking sound of her name.
Finishing up her work, her hand breaks free from the pressure and momentarily slides to mine. “If you ever need anything, you know I’m here for you.”
“She should have told me. I could’ve talked her out of it. Now, Kalli could be trapped in some virtual prison and I don’t know what to do.”
“Maybe she wanted to surprise you, knowing you’d try talking her out of it.”
“She should have told me.”
“I’m sorry again. I’ll be back in a little while. I need to make my rounds.”
The door closed before I decided to respond.
After a few hours of much-needed silence, the door creaks open. I’m too scared to admit there’s no way to be certain what I
just heard is real. Reality and my imagination seem to have united against me.
Despite my doubts, I glance over as my eyes greet two tall figures making their way through my door. I don’t remember inviting them in.
Every muscle in my body tightens as the first guest reveals himself from the room’s shadow. He steps towards me, still getting comfortable under my fresh linens. His black suit is clean and pressed. Larger than the average man. He moves in a mechanical
way, almost robotic. With arms that bulge through his jacket, he looks as if he could tear someone in two with ease. His hair is black or maybe just a really dark brown. It’s hard to tell in the dying fluorescents. It’s slicked to the back of his head. He walks in with a sense of authority while the clicking of his heels on the tile stab at my ears.
A security officer proudly follows close behind, Suit-wannabe. This one has a sternness that sits upon his shoulders hoisted only by his inflated ego and his false sense of accomplishment. He nods at me and introduces himself as Officer Swine. His very existence makes me cringe.
“We need to ask you some questions about the events that took place last night,” he says as he wraps his pudgy hands around the chrome rail attached to my bed. His fingers fidget impatiently around the metal. He leans in closer, towering over me attempting to intimidate. He fails.
“I’m not sure I’ll be much help, gentlemen,” my voice cracks, “I’ve been a little out of it lately. Almost time to be reborn.” The irony in my voice purposely noticeable. My eyes still following the pacing Suit staring at the bruising around my neck.
Images of the mysterious intruder flash to the front of my mind, and I find myself questioning if it was real or delusion. Either way, I refuse to help the Lethe Corporation do anything.
“One of the night shift nurses on the floor reported he witnessed you in the hallway at the time of the break-in,” chimes th Suit. He slowly walks to the other side of the bed, never breaking eye contact with me. His accusing tone hits a nerve.
Jaw clenched, I bite my tongue and feel the heat from within me flush into my cheeks. “I- I don’t remember anything.”
He walks over to an empty chair in the corner, sheds his jacket, and places it with care on the chair between him and the wall.
I freeze at the sight of his arm.
It’s completely metal. From shoulders to fingertips. I’ve heard rumors but haven’t seen any upgrades in person before. The light reflects off his arm like the sun’s rays reflect off the apartment’s rooftop just before sunset. Its layered metal-mesh texture allows him flexibility with all the strength of hardened steel. It appears to be his only upgrade other than the likely neuralNet stuff, standard issue for all Suits and the network port everyone from Olympia has embedded in their arm. Judging by his demeanor he’s more machine than man.
He walks back over to the bed slowly shaking his head in disappointment. Leans in, gripping the rail opposite of Swine with his metal arm, putting his weight against it. The rail folds with ease.
