by Agster, Joe
He thinks back to the initial conversation between himself and Aiden. He was a stubborn, self-assured man at first, but like others he’s met these past eight iterations, revealed a true human side when it was drawn out. Initially unwilling to sell his ID to Friend for all the six or so hundred dollars in his wallet, Friend got up in frustration to leave the restaurant, only to have his female acquaintance run after him as he walked away. He can recall the conversation like it was moments ago.
“Sir, please, wait,” the concerned partner called out to him. Her sandy brown curly hair and lightly freckled face suggested an urgent torment that she needed to relieve. “I am Selena, Aiden’s girlfriend. This is the strangest thing I’ve ever said, but I dreamt about this very episode last night. The dream, it was so vivid, so profound. You can have Aiden’s ID, but I need something from you.”
Friend digested the revelation, trying to ascertain the connection between them. It seems just when his back is against the wall, someone appears in his dire state to help him. And in every case he is more than willing to return the favor. “What do you need?”
“Ten thousand dollars,” she responded, giving him a look of uneasiness, partially of shame. She was following her gut and putting herself out there, clinging to the faith that her dream was a glimpse of the future, that her prayer was answered.
Friend realized she was pouring her soul out to him, and dutifully agreed. He knew from that moment what he had to do, and how to do it. He recalled where he could meet them later that evening, as he tried to hide from him that one time. “Okay. Meet me at the Metropolitan hotel after twenty hundred, at the entrance to the Vyxx nightclub.”
Friend never felt he would need money, save for some basic expenses such as train rides, food, and clothing. He had studied the games of chance dozens of times by now, figuring out the secret to the roulette wheel near the Vyxx. Nothing is truly random, and as he observed across iterations, the same five numbers would appear in sequence at this moment in time. A computerized wheel is not as perturbed by slightly altered events, as its randomness seemed to be anchored to something else, so as to stay consistent. He approached the table, proceeding to bet those same few numbers with hundred dollar chips. It only took four minutes to turn six hundred dollars into sixteen thousand, before he was escorted away by casino management.
He greeted Selena, with Aiden in the background. He guessed their arrival down to the minute, as his awareness of time has dramatically increased over these same days. Friend pulled an envelope from his inner jacket pocket, content to be helping her. “Here. It’s more like fifteen thousand, but it’s all yours.”
She looked inside, and returned the favor with the ID. Friend took a look at it, noting its familiarity but was finally at ease with procuring it through legitimate means.
“I can’t believe it. It’s like a dream come true, literally. I never would have imagined this even happening. You see, Aiden has a form of terminal cancer, Non-Hodgkin lymphoma. His dream was to come to Las Vegas to live his final days like a celebrity, and for us to get married. Now we can do this. So, thank you!”
She hugged him then turned away to cheerfully embrace Aiden in the distance, all as Friend watched. He finally got the closure he wanted, righting a wrong that had been bothering him. The rest of the drive to Hanford was more or less the same, he got to learn a tiny bit more from Cassie, he cheered up Katie the waitress, and they took in their final breath of fresh air in the green fields nearby. Just as he finishes reflecting back, their group is finally called.
Orientation
They are ushered into a large auditorium. It looks and feels relatively newly built, within the past year at least, with the latest high tech lighting and large, high resolution holographic projector. As they are seated toward the rear, the projector loops a short film about the history of the Hanford site: its role during the cold war with Russia a century ago, and when they manufactured plutonium for nuclear weapons. It then talks about the eventual stoppage, and clean up at the turn of the 21st century, followed by its repurposing as an underground habitat. As the others give it a minimal level of interest, conversing away with each other instead, Friend watches like a child watching their favorite cartoon, always eager to soak in knowledge about this new world he is a part of.
The moderator takes the stage, a woman, about in her thirties, and by the looks of her plain style of dress and appearance, most likely a scientist.
“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Bumgartner. As you all are aware, you have been chosen by the United States government to participate in a top secret survival program, ensuring the continuation of our great society through the coming years as the looming impact of the Icedragon asteroid will fundamentally impact life on Earth. Within an hour you will be introduced to the Hanford subterranean city, simply known as Sub-Hanford, or ‘The Sub.’ It is a twenty-two square kilometer city buried five hundred meters underground, with eight different levels, providing plenty of shelter from the asteroid impact. The city looks and operates like a real city, complete with schools, parks, restaurants, shops, medical facilities, and places of worship. There is also a farming area, water treatment facility, and a power station.
“As part of having the privilege of participating in the bronze group, you will be assigned housing on various levels, located above the city businesses in certain designated areas. You will all be assigned a vocation, a program that will begin a week after the impact. The first week will be used to mourn our loved ones who couldn’t join us here.
“After a short orientation video, your tour guides are ready to walk you through the process of registering for an ID, choosing a vocation, and indicating a housing preference. Thank you, and may we wish and pray for our continued survival.”
She waves to the crowd as they clap. The orientation video that follows shows a preview of the infrastructure, the housing, the park system, education system, getting around via the trolley system, and a set of rules and laws. It talks about housing configurations for various family sizes. It talks about how long everyone should expect to be confined here: between two to five years.
It’s not a terrible way to live, but Friend begins to wonder what will happen to him after the impact. It consumes him with worry actually. Will he simply disappear, forced back to his starting point in time, realizing this was all for nothing? Or will his quest be complete and he will return home?
Tour groups are formed, consisting of forty to fifty people, with two guides leading the group. Friend, Cassie and friends stay together as the large crowds make their way through a large corridor, eventually leading to series of six large elevators. The shafts made up of natural stone and the cars walled by high strength steel mesh, large enough to be filled with a single tour group.
The elevator descends rapidly, traveling several meters per second downward, enough to cause those sensitive to motion to feel a bit frightened and unnerved, gripping the elevator side handles, with many of the children hugging their parents tight.
After they disembark, they are lead through another long corridor. They wait their turn, then follow behind another group through the stone walled corridor reinforced by concrete beams. After a few hundred steps of several winding and crooked turns through the tunnel, they eventually emerge through a fortified, vault-like black steel doors, and into the main city. The group is wowed by its massive presence, a series of conjoined buildings, from two to eight stories high, laid endlessly along a maze of streets. Directly in front of them is the city square, a large park with artificial turf, about the size of three football fields, modeled from ones found in twentieth century small towns, according to the guides. Along the square are roads, intended for walking and trolleys, surrounding by various restaurants, taverns, clothing shops, styled with a mix of small town nostalgia and futuristic character. Above the shops are several levels of walkways and bridges, providing access to the seemingly hundreds of offices. They are told that those are administrative offices generally off limits to the
public.
Along the tour, they are introduced to the eight zones, A through H. The city square is not technically in a zone, but entryways on each side connect the main square to zones A on the left, C toward the back, and E toward the right, as these are clearly labeled above the portals. Through those zone areas you are able to connect to the remaining ones. To introduce them to the trolley system, they wait near the stop adjacent to the city square, which eventually picks them up and takes them to the rightmost edge and the entrance to zone E. The round trip then completes its loop.
As the tour concludes they are escorted to a processing center, a very monstrous complex located on the upper levels, where they are to be issued a new ID. They are informed that they are scheduled to meet with a counselor in two days. This person will be a liaison of sorts, guiding them through choosing a housing arrangement and vocation.
After a short waiting period, the four of them are photographed for the new ID. It is explained that they have a total of a half million people to process over the next few days, with about one hundred thousand already complete. Until they can be fully processed and assigned a living space they are forced to reside in temporary housing.
After a grueling hour or so, they leave with their new identification card. The card also doubles as a currency card, and can be uses to check on their information using one of the many public computer terminals through the complex. They are required to have it with them at all times.
Finally free from that hours long compulsory introduction, Cassie suggests the one place she desires to visit the most, a bar. She encounters no reservation from the group as they make their way to Fortune Bar and Grill, one of two drinking establishments along the city square. The ambiance is not terribly exciting, but it will do.
As the group finally sits, they look at each other, expressing a warm embrace as they relish in the fortuity of their situation, even noting the irony of the bar’s name. The others in the bar feel the same, expressed through a wave or a nod, a feeling of fraternity that they are the chosen ones, a group chosen to prolong civilization.
After an hour of drinks, laughter, and conversation, Friend looks to his watch and notices the time of 19:30, close to the announcement. Moments later the projector audios are lowered as a voice suddenly echoes through the entire city, loud enough to echo through the vast stony walls of the entire city complex, reminding them of the upcoming presidential address. The projectors are then tuned to the coverage of the address, to take place in the next fifteen minutes. The crowd’s delight turns dim at the realization that imminently, billions around the world will be sprung into state of implacable terror. There is a persisting vibe of empathy all around for those less fortunate, even if it is quiet and unpronounced.
All eyes are glued to the holograms as the president takes the podium. We have failed and Icedragon will strike the Earth on January 1st, yadda yadda yadda, Friend bemoans, mostly to himself. As everyone else hangs on every word, Friend tires of hearing it. The smugness in that man’s voice is irritable to him. How does a leader of such a vast land let it lay waste in such a way? His instincts tell him that where he is from such a leader would have the honor to be in the forefront of the catastrophe, standing at the spot of its impact in defiance of it, not giving a hallowed speech to then hide and cower while his subject citizens perish.
When the speech turns to unending commentary from the news broadcasts hosts, the drinks and laughter resume. He feels he cannot reasonably celebrate during such a tragedy. Perhaps it’s the post-climactic letdown of accomplishing his task, finally bringing Cassie here. He desires solitude, to contemplate on what is next for him. He has had enough and gets up, leaving the bar without saying a word.
“Friend! Hey! What’s wrong?” Cassie follows him out.
“I get the feeling I don’t belong here,” he cries out to her, with a hint of disgust. “I am not accustomed to drinking and enjoying myself, while the world burns around me.”
“You are right. But you have to understand that this is our way of relieving all this guilt, all this negativity.” She grabs his hand, but this time he declines, unable to be comforted even by her ever-so-present alluring glow.
He gently breaks away and turns his back to walk away. She senses his desire for isolation and space, so she returns to the bar, although feeling sad and disconnected from him. He wanders for a bit. The long, perfectly manicured streets provide him a sense of comfort. They represent a new beginning for this society. He continues to stroll aimlessly, passing more than kilometer of seemingly endless shops, parks, eateries, and other diverse businesses, until he eventually finds himself crossing through the gated portal into Zone A.
After a while he comes across an interestingly decorated structure. It’s not a shop, or bar, but yet it’s buzzing with people wandering about, in and out, with looks of relief mixed with contrition. The doors are left open, providing an inviting vibe, one that Friend cannot avoid. He proceeds with caution into this unknown venue.
The interior contains seating, focused toward a center stage of some sort, with repetitious markings, like a cross. A statue of a man, bolted to an execution pillar with arms stretched out on a crossbar, appearing to have suffered in excruciating pain, graces the rear. The people sit in groups spaced apart, in a reflective meditation. Sensing that this is more his wavelength, as opposed to a bar, he finds a seat and begins doing the same.
Sometime later, as small crowds have shifted in an out, an older man approaches, with white hair and black clothing. He has been studying Friend from a distance for a while, intrigued by his purpose. “My son, welcome. I am Father Marcus Craven, head priest here. Can I answer any questions for you?”
Friend is gratified to finally have a conversation with someone who exudes compassion, and comprehends the current situation. He’s had a burning curiosity in his mind, long trying to fuse his own spiritual beliefs with his current world. This man seems to be the perfect choice for this topic.
“What is God?” Friend asks.
“God is the creator. He is the beginning and the end,” the priest answers with confidence.
“Why does He create a world and let it be destroyed?” Friend then asks.
“God has a plan, my son. What many see as death and destruction, others see as a rebirth and a renewal.”
Fair enough if it is true, but what if it is not? Friend holds a strong belief in a perfectly organized universe, eschewing concepts like luck and chance. He knows this in his heart. This priest’s belief in God is a commonality in this world, and Friend senses that his own beliefs may in some way intertwine with an all-powerful, transcendent supreme being. Nonetheless, he is intrigued how this society characterizes the organizer of the universe into a being they call God.
“What if God doesn’t have a plan? What if He allows the possible outcome of every decision, every chance encounter to manifest itself, in a fantastic web of parallel and intersecting timelines? The beginning and the end are merely singularities from which time spawns then converges, conjoining infinitely, like a hammock tied to two trees.”
“Why do you suggest He would do such a thing?”
“He is looking for something perhaps, an answer. Maybe He is waiting for humanity to achieve the pinnacle of its existence.”
The priest forms a surprised and content look, enjoying the discourse. “My son, trying to discover God’s intent is folly. Instead, try to find God’s intent for you.”
Friend takes a moment to understand that last line. Thinking it through, saying it to himself over and over. My intent, my purpose, what is it? This is the question that he has wanted to ask himself, buried in the depths of his mind. Sure he has given it a cursory thought cycle or two before, simply to draw assumptions like saving Cassie, but has never truly reflected on it.
“Thank you Father, very much. You answered my question, with the perfect question.” Friend rejoices in elation, realizing that sometimes the answers are right in front of him. If he has a purpose
and an intent, he must discover it soon. What if it’s not just Cassie, it’s something more? Or what if it nothing else? Will he just simply disappear?
“Please come back anytime,” the priest suggests.
Friend leaves to begin his journey to the temporary housing center in Zone F, his designated zone. He recalls that there are eight zones in all, with Zone A being mostly occupied by gold card holders, B, C, and D by silver, and the rest by bronze. The higher ranked cards got the first choice and thus most of them chose the nicer zones, with more spacious and luxurious accommodations and closer to the front of the city. The zones are clearly marked by street signs. People are free to go where they wish, as each zone represents a different theme or purpose.
The trolleys operate solely in their own zones, so Friend follows the route maps as he treks through to Zone C, taking a trolley to the Zone F connection portal. Once he gets off, he takes another trolley ride to the temporary housing center. The trolleys operate autonomously, possibly controlled remotely by a human operator, with interactive maps and visual guides clearly explaining where you are and where you are going while enjoying the ride.
The temporary housing center is what one would expect it to be, hundreds of cots laid out in a stretched out grid, very little privacy and little room to store personal belongings. Friend and the group have been already assigned to adjoining cots. The low lighting, pacifying background music, and quiet atmosphere allow for strictly napping or resting. All other forms of socializing are to be taken outside or to the temporary meeting areas sprinkled through the large hall.