Chapter 4
The plastic was unnaturally cold against his skin as he stretched out in the capsule. It felt more metal than plastic. The glass lid perched above his head, still hinged open, blurring the designs on the ceiling panels, probably leftover from the original luxury suites. He wriggled to find a comfortable position.
“All set, Lieutenant?”
Knowles’s face appeared above him, looking down into the capsule.
“The underwear itches,” he replied. “Other than that, yeah, I suppose so.”
She smiled. “Itchy underwear will be the least of your annoyances. I forgot to tell you. The oxy fluid is ice cold. And the scout nanites will be injected prior to sedation, so you may feel some… discomfort the first few minutes.”
“Scout?”
“They pave the way for the rest of the machines. Scouting pathways, blood vessels, arteries, and the like. Just making it easier for the others. But some patients have complained of some initial pain. No worries, Lieutenant. You’ll be under sedation in a matter of moments after the process begins.”
“This gets better and better,” he growled.
Knowles’s face disappeared for a few seconds, then returned. “Tank is online. Relax, take a few deep breaths. Like I said, the fluid is ice cold and will startle your body when it enters your lungs. Go with it. In the womb, we all breathed like this. It’s natural.” She smiled. “Sort of.”
Her face disappeared and reappeared again. “The process has started,” she said as the glass lid began to slowly descend. “I’ll see you on the other side, Lieutenant Gabriel.” Just before she pulled her head back, he saw the same flicker of emotion on her face he had seen a few minutes ago. Sadness? Worry? Before he could say anything, her face was gone.
He closed his eyes as the lid connected with the capsule with a thunk. He heard air hissing, then from under him came the freezing cold fluid. His body tensed and he clenched his teeth, trying desperately to push the thought of drowning aside. The liquid poured in and cascaded over the tops of his legs, then stomach and chest. His skin puckered at the cold and he took short, sharp breaths. His fingers curled, nails pressing into his palms.
The liquid reached his mouth and he squeezed it shut, involuntarily holding his breath. He knew the process; it was the same as long-range high-acceleration ships used for inertial dampening for crewmembers in stasis. But to a human body, it was completely unnatural, regardless of what Knowles said about the womb.
He was now completely submerged and shivering uncontrollably. His lungs burned for air. He opened his eyes, and the freezing liquid stabbed at his eyeballs. It was as if looking through pale blue gelatin.
His lungs could take no more, and he gasped for breath. Spasms racked his body as the fluid poured down his throat and into his airway. He spasmed several more times, and the image of being pushed under by an ocean wave flashed across his mind. He willed his body to relax, and finally the fluid filled his lungs and his body settled. One last gasp and spasm, and Gabriel was breathing liquid.
Through the rushing waterfall sound of the liquid in his ears, he heard a mechanical whirring. He felt a pinprick on his right thigh, then a matching one on his left. Six more pinpricks: one in each arm, one each on either side of his rib cage, one in the bottom of each foot. The scout injections, he thought. He imagined them like cartoon robots, running down red corridors to their jobs, leaving bread crumbs behind for others to follow. He started to smile, when he felt a burning sensation in both feet. The image of the fire ants came back to him as the same burning crept over his legs, then sides, then arms. Suddenly the burning was coursing throughout his body, and he began to panic. This wasn’t the discomfort Knowles alluded to.
The burning intensified, like miniature plasma torches being placed against his skin in a thousand places. He struggled to move, but the paralytic chemicals in the fluid had taken effect. He was immobilized, the nanites started their work on him, and he was still awake.
He grunted as the burning continued. He couldn’t even grit his teeth, and his eyes were still open, staring at blue-tinged ceiling panels. Then the sedation kicked in. His vision began to gray, but the burning increased to an unbearable level.
Gabriel screamed in silence.
“Evan, where are you?”
He heard his mother’s voice and giggled. She’d never find him in here. He was tucked into the roots of a large mangrove tree at the edge of the river, where it emptied into the ocean. The water rushed by him, cascading over rocks and fallen trees, making a whooshing sound he could easily blend into and disappear.
The mangrove was his fort. He was safe inside it. No one could find him, and even if they did, they’d never be able to get to him. The roots were far too close together for an adult to squeeze through. Even his brother Zack was too big, and that was saying something for a nine-year old. Being six had its advantages.
The whooshing increased, and the water rushed by faster and louder than he had ever seen before. His mother had told him the day before to be careful at the edge of the river, as the rains had fallen hard up in the Blue Mountains. He didn’t know what she meant by that, as the mountains were hours away by car, so what did that have to do with the river? But as he watched the river rushing by, now swollen and agitated, carrying more and more tree stumps and debris, he got scared.
“Mom!” But he knew his voice wouldn’t carry over the rushing water. He couldn’t hear her anymore either. He started to push out from the mangrove when suddenly a huge tree floated past and crashed into the roots in front of him. He barely got his fingers off the roots before it hit. The impact of the tree crushed the roots, pressing them in towards him. He yelled louder when he realized his only way out of the mangrove was now blocked by the tree and crushed roots.
“Mom!” His heart thudded in his chest, and he frantically tried to spot an opening he could fit through. There! A space between two roots led out, but directly into the angry river, not towards the calm ocean. He had no choice.
He pushed towards the opening, forcing his body between the roots. Halfway through, his hips got caught. He pushed at the roots behind him with one hand while pulling himself forward using hanging branches in front of him. All around him the water rose.
“Mom!” he screamed again as the water reached his neck. He sputtered as a wave crashed over his face. He pushed and pulled, but his body was stuck. And the river grew more angry.
The water closed over his head. It was unusually cold.
Gabriel: Zero Point Page 5