FLOOR 21

by Jason Luthor

  About the floating screen. First of all, what? We’ve got nothing like that on any of the lower levels. I’ve never even heard of technology close to that, so it’s got to come from somewhere else. Only thing I can think of is that it’s technology they brought up from way down in the Deep Creep.

  Situation number two. I watch and see one person kinda just walk up to the wall and touch it. That’s all it takes for it to light up with a screen and all these buttons. Then she just talks to it, like it can hear her.

  Thing about it is, it does.

  Out of the wall, I hear the words, “Whose location would you like to know?”

  She says, “Timothy Dalton, please. Authority number 1178.”

  It doesn’t even take a second before the wall responds, “Timothy Dalton is located in the library of hallway 15, east wing.”

  “Thank you.” Then she turns and walks away as the screen fades out. The wall’s white again, so you can’t even tell that there was some sort of control system there just a second ago. Things are literally popping out of nowhere on Floor 1.

  My attention is grabbed by the floating images above, which suddenly show an image of a man. He’s an older guy but pretty handsome, with these real strong jawbones and, I dunno, this aura that puts a shiver down your back. More than anything it’s his silver eyes that get to you. They shine out of his face, and you feel as if he really is looking at you. Then he fades out and the word “AUTHORITY” suddenly scrolls by. It fades into white and gets replaced by an image of those blue pills. A voice, the same that makes the morning announcements, suddenly fills the air.

  “Don’t forget. When you’re feeling stressed or tense, Authority is here for you. Need to put your mind at ease from the grind of daily living? Don’t forget your Voluptas is always available from multiple locations throughout every wing. Voluptas. Just a daily will do you.”

  Then the pill fades into white, and the commercials resume. Voluptas. So, they take it to deal with stress.

  Stress? They’re living in paradise. What could stress you out here?

  Recording Thirty-Two

  It’s a dang slap in the face that these people think they’re stressed. Yeah, I’m still pissed about it.

  So as I’m crawling around on my stomach, I start to get a new scent. This one’s not like what I smelled around the pool. It’s really different, actually. It’s sweet, and fresh.

  It just might be the best dang thing I’ve ever smelled in my life.

  Yeah, so I’m excited. I start to push forward a little faster ’cause I want to see where this smell is coming from, and ahead of me I see a grate in the vents. A lot of light is coming in, so I slide up to the edges to get a look outside.

  What the heck, man? Are you for freaking for real?

  They’ve got a forest. Inside the Tower!

  Well, forest might be a bit too strong of a way to put it, but they’ve got a lot of trees. I’m not talking, like, those pathetic things on the lower floors that look like they’re struggling just to stand up. These are tall, strong oaks with broad arms and thick chests. The color on their leaves, oh my God, I can’t even describe it. I’ve never seen green that’s so . . . that’s so . . . green! From where I am, I can see over most of the room—I’d guess you’d call it more of a park—and at the center is this water fountain with a bunch of benches around it. The roof is a lot like the pool room, with “glass” that looks onto blue skies. I think the roof might be one gigantic television or something.

  There’s more than a few people sitting around the fountain, all adults. No kids, which is weird, you know? I’d figure they’d be the ones that’d want to be here most. Still, as I’m watching, something’s just a bit . . . off. All the people sitting around here look happy, just . . . a bit too happy. They’re laughing, but they’ve practically been laughing since I got here. It’s weird. Soon one of the men gets up off the bench and starts, like, prancing around the fountain. The best word I can use here is manic. They’re all laughing like idiots, but this guy’s something else. He’s jumping on the edge of the fountain, nearly screaming his laughs as he looks up at the roof. His feet slide along the moist stone edges he’s standing on, and he tips and rocks for a second, throwing his hands into the air as he teeters at the edge of falling in. He’s almost literally laughing his head off as he plunges into the water.

  This fountain . . . it’s not deep.

  Guy comes up, holding his head kinda funny, and I can’t see too close but I can tell he’s bleeding. Must’ve hit himself on the stone at some point. Everyone’s closing in around him, reaching out to him like they’re concerned, but they never stop laughing. Suddenly a bunch of footsteps are interrupting the trickling of the fountain. It’s the sound of heavy boots, and I can guess just by the sound who they are. The green and white environment is suddenly filled by black armored guys that move toward the bleeding man. The guy’s friends around him start throwing themselves at Security, lunging at them and trying to prevent them from taking away the wounded guy.

  This bunch of Security, though. They’re different.

  They’re huge.

  So, Allison’s dad. Big, muscly guy. Same thing with Tommy, who’s most def a future Security member. The guys I’m seeing right now are something else. They’re all seven feet tall and wide as mountains. Also? You can’t see any of their faces. They all have, like, gas masks on. That usually only happens at nighttime on the lower floors, so this is weird. All they have to do is shrug, and they’re throwing these people off, tossing them into the grass like they’re throwing out dead leaves.

  Then they wrap their giant hands around the bleeding dude and haul him out, practically yanking his arm from its socket when they do.

  Nobody ever stops laughing.

  Recording Thirty-Three

  When I start thinking about Stella, I get really uncomfortable. Just, I don’t know what was going on with her and George, but things didn’t seem right. At first he looked like he was going to hit her unless she took that Voluptas stuff, but I’m not sure whether you’d want to get slapped or take a pill that jacks with your brain. My stomach starts to knot up, and I start to shiver. It takes me a second to calm down, because I’d hate to live in a world where how I feel is supposed to be treated with just a pill. What’s the point of living if you’re supposed to forget how you feel?

  I’m still shaking as I take the next turn, moving toward what sounds like fingers typing away at keyboards. I’m looking for anything that might be, I dunno, scientific, so I try to find my way to the sound. Slowly I come to a vent overlooking what seems to be a really sterile, white room. There are a bunch of computers on one side, and there’s a guy strapped to a chair in the middle. He’s got restraints over his wrists and around his ankles, and his mouth is covered with a black band. Guy looks like total crap. He’s sweating, like, almost as bad as I am.

  There’s another guy at the door. Judging by the tactical vest and the rifle he’s holding, he’s Security. As if the gas mask and his giant stature didn’t give him away. Finally, there’s one last guy. He’s some thin, scrawny-looking dude, like he grew up tall but never put on any weight. Anyway, he’s got a lab coat on, so I’m guessing he’s in the Science department. Didn’t realize that Science got to come up to Floor 1. I’m not saying they don’t; I’m just saying how the hell am I supposed to know how this works?

  Whatever. Point is, I’m watching this Science guy walking between the computers, then checking the man’s restraints. He starts to talk. “Begin recording. Doctor Rivera, Tower Date 515.14.21. I am currently receiving a patient into custody to begin Reinforcement. The patient is from Floor 7 and has been tried and found guilty of spreading rumors of Angels in violation of the Speech Code. Security apprehended the patient on Floor 14, presumably trying to evade detection. Trial was held yesterday and concluded within two hours. Recommended sentencing is Reinforcement. Recording pause.” This guy, Rivera, looks up at the Security dude. “What Reinforcement’s done without Creep,
though, right?”

  The Security officer grunts and laughs, the two of them chuckling as the doctor returns to the side of the “patient.” Whatever the hell that means. “Recording resume. The patient in question will receive an injection from Creep samples retrieved from Floor 15. This makes the sample of moderate strength. Anticipated reaction is that the patient will incur euphoric and moderately strong hallucinogenic reactions. Once the Creep has bonded with his brain, he will, of course, produce an elevated degree of endorphins and dopamine over the course of the next year. This will make him happier and more compliant though, as always, the chemical changes to his brain place him at risk of death. However, in cases where Creep strains of this variety have been used, death occurs in less than twenty percent of all patients.”

  I watch as the doctor moves to the wall and taps at a few buttons. Within a second a panel slides away and a tray slides out. Even from here I can tell what I’m looking at. The stuff’s like pure muscle covered in splotchy skin. Creep. It’s kinda disgusting seeing it in light as bright as this. For the first time in my life, I’m actually looking at it pretty clearly. It quivers a bit, like it’s reacting to Rivera’s presence. Even the doctor seems a bit hesitant as he approaches it.

  “Got to be careful with this stuff,” he says as he picks up a needle from a nearby tray. “You remember what happened to Doctor Carson.”

  The Security guy nods. “Whatever happened to him?”

  “Well, we couldn’t get him out of the Creep. It wrapped him up so quick that he wasn’t able to breathe. Your brain really doesn’t do well without oxygen for more than a minute or two.”

  “Damn. That sucks.”

  “Yes. It’s not like this tower’s abundant with doctors.” He shakes his head, breathing in. “Ah well. That’s what happens when you get careless.” Rivera angles the needle toward the Creep, putting the sharp tip at the skin and plunging it inward.

  It screams.

  God. I don’t know how, but it lets loose this piercing screech that makes my teeth hurt. I can’t help but suck in my breath when it happens, then slap a hand across my mouth. For a moment Rivera pauses, looking around. Even the Security guy tenses up, raising his gun as he takes a step forward into the room. So, for the longest moment, I don’t breathe. I just sit and wait, watching as they look around. They’re trying to find out if they really heard what they think they heard.

  Then the Creep screeches again, and Rivera’s eyes whip back to its surface. He quickly fills the syringe with, I don’t know how to put it, blood, I guess. It’s blackish purple, and it comes streaming out until the doctor’s got a full sample in that needle of his. He yanks backward as the Creep suddenly shivers, jolting toward him with a long, fleshy stalk it generates from its skin. Rivera jumps out of the way, just missing the blow, while the Security guy slams the button near the sliding panel. The sample vanishes back into the wall, and Rivera is left standing there, panting. He doubles over, heaving for a moment before he stands back up.

  “See what I’m talking about?” he asks as he regains his composure. “It just takes one second of hesitation. You can’t play around with this stuff.”

  Again the Security guy nods, but he’s pretty clearly freaked out, too. Hell, from where I am in the vent, all I want to do is scream. I keep a lid on it, though. Literally, I never take my hand off my mouth because I don’t want to risk losing it. I’m just seconds away from waking the dead if I don’t keep my mouth jammed. Still, I’m able to hold it together as I watch Rivera walk back to the patient’s side. The poor guy in the chair is starting to slam back and forth, but the restraints won’t let him loose, and every time he tries to talk, his voice is muffled by the strap around his mouth. I can’t help but think of Danny. Did he have to go through this?

  Rivera yanks up the man’s sleeve. “Proceeding with the injection,” he says, leaning close to the guy’s arm. “Hold still, you idiot. This will go a lot worse for you if I mess this up.”

  That doesn’t seem to do much to calm the guy down, and he keeps trying to scream as he struggles against his restraints. Rivera puts the tip of the needle to the guy’s upper arm, its edge sinking into the guy’s skin, and I watch as the purplish black liquid inside shoots into the prisoner’s body.

  Then, for the first time since I’ve arrived here, someone sees me.

  I can tell. He’s looking straight at me, his eyes wide and desperate as he tries to shout for help. He wants me to do something. He wants me to get out of the vent, take down Security, and free him from his restraints. I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. Instead, I have to watch as the whites of the man’s eyes suddenly surge with a blackish color, his body going rigid for a second as he just wails, and I can almost feel his pain from where I’m hiding. His screaming stops as Doctor Rivera pulls the needle from his arm. For a few minutes the man is stuck, his every muscle tensed up. Then he goes limp, the whites of his eyes returning as he collapses back into the chair.

  I really wish I wouldn’t have seen this.

  Recording Thirty-Four

  I’m recording from my room. I don’t know what to say about what I’ve seen today. When I got back home, Mom was acting as if she didn’t care that I’d been forever. For the first time in my life, I paid attention to her kinda crazy behavior and just . . . I took notes. Mentally. She’s always done this thing where, like, even if the circumstances are bad, she finds a way to be deliriously happy. That’s how it always is with her. She’s either depressed and crazy, or ecstatic and a little less crazy.

  Now, I can’t help but think of that woman Stella whenever I look at Mom.

  I retreated to my room when I got home and spent the rest of the day there. As far as I can tell, nobody noticed I was gone. When I got back, I exited through the same grate I’d used to travel up to Floor 1. I didn’t notice anything unusual then. From what I saw, nobody’d even come back to the Cleanup closet. Guess it was a good day for the Cleanup crew. I’d guess any day where you don’t have to mop up vomit is a good day, though.

  Anyway, I thought about telling Allison about what I saw. But what would I say? I’d be putting her life in danger. So, for now, I’m just keeping this to myself. Poor Danny, though. I mean, if he had to go through that.

  That’s probably the part I regret most about everything. The fact that I saw a guy get injected and didn’t do anything. I dunno, it’s just . . . damn. I felt helpless. You always kinda think back on what you could’ve done, but really, if I’d tried to help, then Security would have put me down. That wouldn’t have helped anyone.

  Maybe there’s some way I can tell other people about this, though. Let them know what’s going on up there. Who knows? Maybe I can even go back sometime. Find some new dirt on what’s happening on Floor 1. Do you know how pissed everyone would be to find out how nice they’re living up there? Not to mention the whole, you know, injecting people full of Creep thing. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll head back up there next week and get some new dirt on this whole mess. Then I’ll find a way of telling people without getting myself taken into Reinforcement. Hm. Yeah, that’s it. Maybe I can put out a newsletter or something.

  God. That’s a pathetic idea. I need something that would really get people’s attention.

  Hold on. Somebody’s knocking at my door. Probably Mom. Or, hopefully, Dad. Suddenly I don’t care how weird they are. I just want them to be okay.

  Recording Thirty-Five

  I watched as two men from Security came into my room. They didn’t even wait for me to open the door.

  Anyway, that’s how I ended up here, back on Floor 1. This time I walked through the front door. Strange thing about it is, the golden number “1” on the doorway in the stairwell looks so cheap in comparison to the hallways inside.

  Even if I’m about to get my mind wiped, at least I got to see the inside of the halls this time. They’re a lot more gorgeous when you actually get to walk through them, and I saw things I didn’t get a chance to when I was trying to work
my way through the vents. Like, the paintings. We don’t have many of those on my floor, or anywhere else. Floor 1’s got them on every wall. Fun fact? The paintings change images. At least some of them do, anyway. I saw it happen when they were marching me to my cell.

  Can I just talk about that real quick? Why do they make prisoners come to a dingy cell after walking through this hallway that looks like paradise? Are they purposely trying to depress you before they shoot you up full of Creep?

  I dunno. It sucks, though. Sucks that the only time in your life that you get to see this place is right before they do . . . whatever it is that happens when you get Creep shot to the brain.

  God. Of course, this would happen to me.

  The worst part of it was being watched like I was an animal. There were people in the halls, and they just pointed and talked about me like this was just another day in paradise. I mean, come on, people! You’ve got a seventeen-year-old girl getting led to a brainwashing. Isn’t anyone going to help?

  That’s rhetorical, by the way. The answer is no.

  Whatever.

  They let me keep my recorder, so, that’s something. Although I get the impression I’m not going to want to use it much once I get Reinforced.

  If it sounds like I’m pretty relaxed about this whole situation, well, that’s because I’m desperately trying to keep myself from crying. Cavalier is my default under pressure, but this is a lot even for me.

  This sucks.

  The cell sucks, too. Once you get hauled through this gorgeous, white-painted hallway, they throw you into this small, cramped room. No windows, all gray walls. I’m persistently disagreeing with my surroundings as I look around. It’s like living in an apartment on Floor 15.