by J. N. Chaney
He walked behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You have more raw instinct than many agents have after years of training. Think of how much farther you could reach if you learn intentionally. If you are guided and challenged.”
I tried to ignore the unfamiliar touch and kept staring straight ahead. “You think I can learn all of that? What would be the point?”
Shaw let go of my shoulder and walked back to the other side of the table. “You don’t have to care about the fate of the Union. You don’t have to care about yourself. But I know that you care about people. Your actions in protecting Manson and Gil, your revenge for Vance’s expulsion, the way you refused to blackmail Whiles. Causes are not important to you, that’s fine. Causes are nothing but aggregations of people in motion. As long as you care about people, the Union has a use for you. I have a use for you.”
I considered the pitch and made a decision. “Remi’s family didn’t deserve the Union. If I help, I want two things.”
Shaw brightened. “I love a bargain established from an uneven position. What do you have for me?”
“I want to see Evelyn answer for what she’s done. I promised her that. I also want your assurances that if I find any corruption within the Union, you’ll help me put an end to it.”
Shaw replied without missing a beat. “Evelyn will be found,” he said, no doubt in his voice. “She’ll leave a trail and we will follow, rest assured. As for your second request, if you ever happened upon corruption and didn’t speak out about it, I would be remiss to think you are the person I see before me now.” He smiled. “And I’m so rarely wrong.”
“Good,” I remarked. “What now?”
“Learn and train,” he told me. “Become a Constable.”
“I’ll do it,” I said, a rising heat in my chest as I spoke the words.
“Of that, I have no doubt,” he said, standing to his feet. “But it will take time, Alphonse, and there is still so much that you must learn.”
Preview: The Amber Project
Documents of Historical, Scientific, and Cultural Significance
Play Audio Transmission File 021
Recorded April 19, 2157
CARTWRIGHT: This is Lieutenant Colonel Felix Cartwright. It’s been a week since my last transmission and two months since the day we found the city…the day the world fell apart. If anyone can hear this, please respond.
If you’re out there, no doubt you know about the gas. You might think you’re all that’s left. But if you’re receiving this, let me assure you, you are not alone. There are people here. Hundreds, in fact, and for now, we’re safe. If you can make it here, you will be, too.
The city’s a few miles underground, not far from El Rico Air Force Base. That’s where my people came from. As always, the coordinates are attached. If anyone gets this, please respond. Let us know you’re there…that you’re still alive.
End Audio File
April 14, 2339
Maternity District
MILES BELOW THE SURFACE OF THE EARTH, deep within the walls of the last human city, a little boy named Terry played quietly with his sister in a small two-bedroom apartment.
Today was his very first birthday. He was turning seven.
“What’s a birthday?” his sister Janice asked, tugging at his shirt. She was only four years old and had recently taken to following her big brother everywhere he went. “What does it mean?”
Terry smiled, eager to explain. “Mom says when you turn seven, you get a birthday. It means you grow up and get to start school. It’s a pretty big deal.”
“When will I get a birthday?”
“You’re only four, so you have to wait.”
“I wish I was seven,” she said softly, her thin black hair hanging over her eyes. “I want to go with you.”
He got to his feet and began putting the toy blocks away. They had built a castle together on the floor, but Mother would yell if they left a mess. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. I promise, okay?”
“Okay!” she said cheerily and proceeded to help.
Right at that moment, the speaker next to the door let out a soft chime, followed by their mother’s voice. “Downstairs, children,” she said. “Hurry up now.”
Terry took his sister’s hand. “Come on, Jan,” he said.
She frowned, squeezing his fingers. “Okay.”
They arrived downstairs, their mother nowhere to be found.
“She’s in the kitchen,” Janice said, pointing at the farthest wall. “See the light-box?”
Terry looked at the locator board, although his sister’s name for it worked just as well. It was a map of the entire apartment, with small lights going on and off in different colors, depending on which person was in which room. There’s us, he thought, green for me and blue for Janice, and there’s Mother in red. Terry never understood why they needed something like that because of how small the apartment was, but every family got one, or so Mother had said.
As he entered the kitchen, his mother stood at the far counter sorting through some data on her pad. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Something for work,” she said. She tapped the front of the pad and placed it in her bag. “Come on, Terrance, we’ve got to get you ready and out the door. Today’s your first day, after all, and we have to make a good impression.”
“When will he be back?” asked Janice.
“Hurry up. Let’s go, Terrance,” she said, ignoring the question. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along. “We have about twenty minutes to get all the way to the education district. Hardly enough time at all.” Her voice was sour. He had noticed it more and more lately, as the weeks went on, ever since a few months ago when that man from the school came to visit. His name was Mr. Huxley, one of the few men who Terry ever had the chance to talk to, and from the way Mother acted—she was so agitated—he must have been important.
“Terrance.” His mother’s voice pulled him back. “Stop moping and let’s go.”
Janice ran and hugged him, wrapping her little arms as far around him as she could. “Love you,” she said.
“Love you too.”
“Bye,” she said shyly.
He kissed her forehead and walked to the door, where his mother stood talking with the babysitter, Ms. Cartwright. “I’ll only be a few hours,” Mother said. “If it takes any longer, I’ll message you.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, Mara,” Ms. Cartwright assured her. “You take all the time you need.”
Mother turned to him. “There you are,” she said, taking his hand. “Come on, or we’ll be late.”
As they left the apartment, Mother’s hand tugging him along, Terry tried to imagine what might happen at school today. Would it be like his home lessons? Would he be behind the other children, or was everything new? He enjoyed learning, but there was still a chance the school might be too hard for him. What would he do? Mother had taught him some things, like algebra and English, but who knew how far along the other kids were by now?
Terry walked quietly down the overcrowded corridors with an empty, troubled head. He hated this part of the district. So many people on the move, brushing against him, like clothes in an overstuffed closet.
He raised his head, nearly running into a woman and her baby. She had wrapped the child in a green and brown cloth, securing it against her chest. “Excuse me,” he said, but the lady ignored him.
His mother paused and looked around. “Terrance, what are you doing? I’m over here,” she said, spotting him.
“Sorry.”
They waited together for the train, which was running a few minutes behind today.
“I wish they’d hurry up,” said a nearby lady. She was young, about fifteen years old. “Do you think it’s because of the outbreak?”
“Of course,” said a much older woman. “Some of the trains are busy carrying contractors to the slums to patch the walls. It slows the others down because now they have to make more stops.”
> “I heard fourteen workers died. Is it true?”
“You know how the gas is,” she said. “It’s very quick. Thank God for the quarantine barriers.”
Suddenly, there was a loud smashing sound, followed by three long beeps. It echoed through the platform for a moment, vibrating along the walls until it was gone. Terry flinched, squeezing his mother’s hand.
“Ouch,” she said. “Terrance, relax.”
“But the sound,” he said.
“It’s the contractors over there.” She pointed to the other side of the tracks, far away from them. It took a moment for Terry to spot them, but once he did, it felt obvious. Four of them stood together. Their clothes were orange, with no clear distinction between their shirts and their pants, and on each of their heads was a solid red plastic hat. Three of them were holding tools, huddled against a distant wall. They were reaching inside of it, exchanging tools every once in a while, until eventually the fourth one called them to back away. As they made some room, steam rose from the hole, with a puddle of dark liquid forming at the base. The fourth contractor handled a machine several feet from the others, which had three legs and rose to his chest. He waved the other four to stand near him and pressed the pad on the machine. Together, the contractors watched as the device flashed a series of small bright lights. It only lasted a few seconds. Once it was over, they gathered close to the wall again and resumed their work.
“What are they doing?” Terry asked.
His mother looked down at him. “What? Oh, they’re fixing the wall, that’s all.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Probably because there was a shift last night. Remember when the ground shook?”
Yeah, I remember, he thought. It woke me up. “So they’re fixing it?”
“Yes, right.” She sighed and looked around. “Where is that damned train?”
Terry tugged on her hand. “That lady over there said it’s late because of the gas.”
His mother looked at him. “What did you say?”
“The lady…the one right there.” He pointed to the younger girl a few feet away. “She said the gas came, so that’s why the trains are slow. It’s because of the slums.” He paused a minute. “No, wait. It’s because they’re going to the slums.”
His mother stared at the girl, turning back to the tracks and saying nothing.
“Mother?” he said.
“Be quiet for a moment, Terrance.”
Terry wanted to ask her what was wrong, or if he had done anything to upset her, but he knew when to stay silent. So he left it alone like she wanted. Just like a good little boy.
The sound of the arriving train filled the platform with such horrific noise that it made Terry’s ears hurt. The train, still vibrating as he stepped onboard, felt like it was alive.
After a short moment, the doors closed. The train was moving.
Terry didn’t know if the shaking was normal or not. Mother had taken him up to the medical wards on this train once when he was younger, but never again after that. He didn’t remember much about it, except that he liked it. The medical wards were pretty close to where he lived, a few stops before the labs, and several stops before the education district. After that, the train ran through Pepper Plaza, then the food farms and Housing Districts 04 through 07 and finally the outer ring factories and the farms. As Terry stared at the route map on the side of the train wall, memorizing what he could of it, he tried to imagine all the places he could go and the things he might see. What kind of shops did the shopping plaza have, for example, and what was it like to work on the farms? Maybe one day he could go and find out for himself—ride the train all day to see everything there was to see. Boy, wouldn’t that be something?
“Departure call: 22-10, education district,” erupted the com in its monotone voice. It took only a moment before the train began to slow.
“That’s us. Come on,” said Mother. She grasped his hand, pulling him through the doors before they were fully opened.
Almost to the school, Terry thought. He felt warm suddenly. Was he getting nervous? And why now? He’d known about this forever, and it was only hitting him now?
He kept taking shorter breaths. He wanted to pull away and return home, but Mother’s grasp was tight and firm, and the closer they got to the only major building in the area, the tighter and firmer it became.
Now that he was there, now that the time had finally come, a dozen questions ran through Terry’s mind. Would the other kids like him? What if he wasn’t as smart as everyone else? Would they make fun of him? He had no idea what to expect.
Terry swallowed, the lump in his throat nearly choking him.
An older man stood at the gate of the school’s entrance. He dressed in an outfit that didn’t resemble any of the clothes in Terry’s district or even on the trains. A gray uniform—the color of the pavement, the walls, and the streets—matched his silver hair to the point where it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. “Ah,” he said. “Mara, I see you’ve brought another student. I was wondering when we’d meet the next one. Glad to see you’re still producing. It’s been, what? Five or six years? Something like that, I think.”
“Yes, thank you, this is Terrance,” said Mother quickly. “I was told there would be an escort.” She paused, glancing over the man and through the windows. “Where’s Bishop? He assured me he’d be here for this.”
“The colonel,” he corrected, “is in his office, and the boy is to be taken directly to him as soon as I have registered his arrival.”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “He was supposed to meet me at the gate for this himself. I wanted to talk to him about a few things.”
“What’s wrong?” Terry asked.
She looked down at him. “Oh, it’s nothing, don’t worry. You have to go inside now, that’s all.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“I’m afraid not,” said the man. “She’s not permitted.”
“It’s all right,” Mother said, cupping her hand over his cheek. “They’ll take care of you in there.”
But it’s just school, Terry thought. “I’ll see you tonight, though, right?”
She bent down and embraced him tightly, more than she had in a long time. He couldn’t help but relax. “I’m sorry, Terrance. Please be careful up there. I know you don’t understand it now, but you will eventually. Everything will be fine.” She rose, releasing his hand for the first time since they left the train. “So that’s it?” Mother said to the man.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.” She turned and walked away, pausing a moment as she reached the corner and continued until she was out of sight.
The man pulled out a board with a piece of paper on it. “When you go through here, head straight to the back of the hall. A guard there will take you to see Colonel Bishop. Just do what they say and answer everything with either ‘Yes, sir’ or ‘No, sir,’ and you’ll be fine. Understand?”
Terry didn’t understand, but he nodded anyway.
The man pushed open the door with his arm and leg, holding it there and waiting. “Right through here you go,” he said.
Terry entered, reluctantly, and the door closed quickly behind him.
The building, full of the same metal and shades of brown and gray that held together the rest of the city, rose higher than any other building Terry had ever been in. Around the room, perched walkways circled the walls, cluttered with doors and hallways that branched off into unknown regions. Along the walkways, dozens of people walked back and forth as busily as they had in the train station. More importantly, Terry quickly realized, most of them were men.
For so long, the only men he had seen were the maintenance workers who came and went or the occasional teacher who visited the children when they were nearing their birthdays. It was so rare to see any men at all, especially in such great numbers. Maybe they’re all teachers, he thought. They weren’t dressed like the workers: white coats and some with bro
wn jackets—thick jackets with laced boots and bodies as stiff as the walls. Maybe that was what teachers wore. How could he know? He had never met one besides Mr. Huxley, and that was months ago.
“Well, don’t just stand there gawking,” said a voice from the other end of the room. It was another man, dressed the same as the others. “Go on in through here.” He pointed to another door, smaller than the one Terry had entered from. “Everyone today gets to meet the colonel. Go on now. Hurry up. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”
Terry did as the man said and stepped through the doorway, his footsteps clanking against the hard metal floor, echoing through what sounded like the entire building.
“Well, come in, why don’t you?” came a voice from inside.
Terry stepped cautiously into the room, which was much nicer than the entranceway. It was clean, at least compared to some of the other places Terry had been, including his own home. The walls held several shelves, none of which lacked for any company of things. Various ornaments caught Terry’s eye, like the little see-through globe on the shelf nearest to the door, which held a picture of a woman’s face inside, although some of it was faded and hard to make out. There was also a crack in it. What purpose could such a thing have? Terry couldn’t begin to guess. Next to it lay a frame with a small, round piece of metal inside of it. An inscription below the glass read, “U.S. Silver Dollar, circa 2064.” Terry could easily read the words, but he didn’t understand them. What was this thing? And why was it so important that it needed to be placed on a shelf for everyone to look at?
“I said come in,” said Bishop abruptly. He sat at the far end of the room behind a large brown desk. Terry had forgotten he was even there. “I didn’t mean for you to stop at the door. Come over here.”
Terry hurried closer, stopping a few feet in front of the desk.
“I’m Colonel Bishop. You must be Terrance,” said the man. “I’ve been wondering when you were going to show up.” He wore a pair of thin glasses and had one of the larger pads in his hand. “Already seven. Imagine that.”