by Simone Pond
“Hi,” I say, hoping to make a connection.
“Hi,” she says.
“I’m William.”
“I’m Sarah. I can’t believe I’m stuck in this underground hole. I’m supposed to go to MIT in the fall. Full scholarship,” she rants.
I’m shocked she’s old enough to go to college. “How old are you?”
“Turning sixteen in a few months.”
“And you’re going to college? You must be smart.”
“That’s what they say. But it doesn’t matter much down here, does it? They took my digi-pad. How am I supposed do any programming?”
“Yeah, they snagged my backpack. Had my hardback of Robert Frost poems. I guess paper is illegal down here.” I try to lighten the mood.
Sarah’s mother touches her shoulder, signaling the end of our conversation. I’d like to tell her to mind her own damn business. Sarah’s interesting and I’m lonely. I’m about to make a joke about the jumpsuits right when Jack and his parents walk into the room. I freeze. Of all the bunkers in all the world, this bastard walks into mine. Jack scowls at the lady in the lab coat and jerks away when she tries to escort him to a seat. He finds a spot on the other side of the circle far away from his parents. I sink down in my chair, hoping he doesn’t notice me. The incentive to get the hell out of this place just quadrupled.
A woman’s voice comes over the intercom. “Welcome to the Subterranea, Alpha Group Seven. Let’s get to know one another.” She sounds just like the voice system at home. I’m convinced I’ll be plagued by this voice tech for the rest of my life.
The glass walls shift from blue to images of our faces—along with a list of stats. The information scrolls along the wall like ticker tape. I can’t concentrate on the images stopping before me. Instead I watch my image—my shaggy skater hair and pale gray eyes—making its way to the other side of the room toward Jack. Soon my cover will be blown. I hold my breath and wait for the inevitable.
“Hey, dickweed,” says Jack, from across the circle.
I ignore him and stare straight ahead. The others look around to figure out what’s going on. The video scroll stops. A voice comes over the intercom. “Jack Carter, please silence yourself. Your disruptive behavior will not be tolerated.”
“Shut the…” Jack starts to speak when a red laser beam hones in on his forehead. He begins pulsating like he stuck his finger in an electric socket, then slumps forward.
Yes! I almost cheer, but I don’t want the laser beam treatment, so I keep quiet. Sarah looks at me for an explanation, but I shrug my shoulders.
The woman’s voice continues. “This particular group has been assigned to live in Under-Tower 818, located in the southeast division. You will reside in individual dwelling units. Cohabitation is prohibited. Your private quarters are equipped with every necessity and the latest technologies for sleep, nourishment, entertainment and hygiene.”
The glass wall displays a map of the entire underground facility. It spans out about five miles across and goes one mile deep. The southeast location on the map lights up, showing a honeycomb cluster of cylindrical dwelling units. I count a total of twenty units all clumped together in our sector, which means I’ll be in close proximity to Jack for the next three years, or until I figure a way out of this holding pen.
The individual units are pretty sweet—top-notch luxury condos with modern conveniences and gleaming white interiors. The entire space is programmable to create personalized backdrops from cityscapes, mountain ranges and beaches, to colorful patterns and abstract designs.
“The Dining Room will have breakfast, lunch and dinner served daily. Each day there is a new theme to coordinate with the meal plan.” The virtual demonstration shows an outdoor garden party theme, which looks so real you can almost smell the fresh grass and flowers. The tables are covered in white linens and overflowing bouquets. The buffet is decked out with tea sandwiches and salads. There must be a greenhouse supplying the food.
“The Training Facilities are located in the next sector over. It has the latest technology for endurance training and weight management. We offer daily exercise classes, and we’ve recruited top-level experts in combat training for the more adventurous types.”
An image of the two trainers appears. The dude is pumped-up and looks like an authority on apocalypse survival. The girl trainer is hot. Her red hair is pulled away from her face, showing off her bright green eyes and perfect gleaming skin. Yeah, I’m enrolling in combat training.
“You will find new clothes in your private quarters, including items for day use, exercise and sleep. The Community Hall offers twenty-four-hour entertainment, as well as weekly virtual concerts and variety shows. Each night after dinner, we’ll screen coverage of the Repatterning.”
Coverage of the Repatterning should be interesting. At least I’ll know what’s going on up there and get to see the grand finale of my father’s pet project—even if it’s from afar.
“The Blue Line is the commuter tube for transportation to the Dining Room, Community Hall and Training Facilities.”
I wonder what’s on the far end of the facility in the area the Blue Line doesn’t go. Military is my first thought.
“And finally, there will be zero communication with the outside world during your stay in the Subterranea. Please note, violators will be punished.”
Looking at Jack’s zombified face tells me these people don’t mess around. I’d hate to get caught breaking a serious rule. I’ll keep my mouth shut and learn as much possible, while I quietly plot out my escape. They can try to make this place seem super amazing, but I don’t plan on sticking around for too long.
The screen fades to blue and the lights go up. The woman with the shaved head and her sidekick stand at the entrance, waving us out of the room. The Blue Line platform is right outside the door.
“Stand back. We would hate to see you lose a nose.” The woman fake laughs and the man follows suit. I hope this is my last encounter with these two robots.
Out of nowhere an oblong glass capsule appears at the platform. “Step inside, ladies and gentlemen. The Blue Line knows where you’re going.”
Mother and I sit in the back of the tram.
“This is it,” she says, with a sigh. “Three years.”
I smile and nod, knowing for damn sure I won’t be staying down here for three years.
Chapter 5
The Blue Line enters our sector, depositing each person at their living quarters. Mother and I are the second to last stop. Jack and his parents are still seated, meaning he’s my next-door neighbor. He glares at me, still half out of it. I step out of the tram and stand on the platform with Mother. A door slides open and we enter a hallway.
“Greetings, and welcome home,” says a simulated female voice, much like the one at home. “This is the main level. The tube will take you to your private quarters below.”
Mother and I step into the tube and lower down. At the bottom, a door slides open and we step into another hallway, waiting for further instructions.
“William, your unit is located on the right. Avalon, yours is on the left. Before entering, select a personal access code.”
I want to use a code that means something to me so I don’t forget. I type in 1984 because that seems right. A camera lens scans my eyes and the front door slides open. I walk into the foyer and turn around to Mother who’s still staring at her keypad. “I guess we’ll meet out here for lunch?”
“I…” She starts to say something, but my door slides shut, cutting her off.
I’m blown away at the size of the place—the layout is an enormous half circle with partitions sectioning off each area. It looks like a modern-day palace fit for a Saudi Arabian trillionaire and way too luxurious for me. In the sleeping area there’s some sort of pod deal in the middle of the room and black leather couches along the perimeter. The bathroom is ridiculous—white marble covering every inch of space—and the shower stall transforms into different water scenarios, fr
om waterfall to fish tank, and about eight other settings. In the center of the unit is a seating area around a crystal fountain that changes hues or can be used as a fireplace option. The kitchenette is stocked with pre-made sandwiches. The gaming and entertainment area is the most geeked-out I’ve ever seen. Holographic interface. Dickson mentioned this technology a while back. I can’t wait to try it out. They really know how to make a person feel like a king. Everything is so first-rate I almost forget I’m locked inside a bunker a mile underground.
“Not too shabby.” My voice sounds muffled.
“How may I assist you, William?” A female voice comes out of nowhere.
“Whoa! Are you watching me?” I ask the voice.
“No, William, I’m the unit assistant app. I’m here to help with your needs. I operate on voice recognition. You have activated me. To proceed, you will need to assign me a name.”
“What kind of needs?”
“Please select a name now.”
I’m caught off guard and the first name I think of is Avalon. I’m not naming this thing after my mother. Old Martha? No, that doesn’t seem right. I can’t come up with any female names. I think about the voice app back at home and how it reminds me of 2001 Space Odyssey. “Hal,” I finally say, smiling to myself. I have my very own female Hal.
“Thank you, William. I’m programmed to respond to questions and instructions. You will need to use my name to initiate the application, but you do not need to repeat my name if we are in a conversation.”
“Can you give me an example of what you assist with?”
“For example, would you like me to prepare a shower for you? Or are you interested in taking a nap? How about watching a movie or playing a game?”
“Okay, got it. I’d like to get out of this jumpsuit and into some normal clothes.”
“Clothes are in the closet located next to your sleeping area.”
“Um, okay, thanks.”
I step into the closet and flip through the rack of “normal-looking” clothes. It’s all athletic wear made of microfiber. Not my first choice, but anything’s better than this jumpsuit. I put on a black shirt and shorts and go over to the sleep pod thing. “Hal, how does this work?”
“Get inside and lie down. The foam will adjust to your body weight and sleep patterns. You can listen to music, podcasts, or soft tones. I will set the alarm to wake you in time for lunch.”
I get inside and sink into a cocoon of comfort. I start to make a music selection, but my eyelids are so heavy…
*
Mother and I walk into the Dining Room to get lunch and it’s like we’ve been transported to an English countryside: rolling green hills and flower gardens surround us and there’s even a soft breeze. We go over to the boundless buffet and I stack my plate with faux roast beef—no animal meat in the Subterranea—heaps of mashed potatoes and gravy, some fried zucchini, and buttery rolls. I’ll need to put on some weight if I’m planning to do any combat training. Mother finds a table in a shady corner, away from the others. Her plate is empty.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I sit down next to her.
“Hmm?”
“Aren’t you going to eat something?”
“I don’t have an appetite, darling.”
I’m starving and dig into my food, preparing for the faux roast beef to taste like cardboard, but it’s rich and savory and delicious. Everything pops with flavor. I glance around the place, checking things out as I continue shoveling food into my mouth. There are about two hundred tables throughout the garden, and about ten to twelve people at each. All of the new recruits are focused on eating rather than talking. Everyone seems a little shell-shocked. Jack sits across the room with a group of teenagers. Of course he already has a fan club. He’s staring at me, no doubt trying to intimidate me, but I’m not falling for it. Maybe it’s the high levels of oxygen filling the air, or the laser beam treatment that knocked him out. Either way, I’m not letting him get into my head. I bite into my roll and flash him a big smile. Screw that guy.
“You like your place?” I mumble to Mother with my mouth full.
“Chew your food, darling. Yes, they did a nice job. Much better than the early designs.”
“What? You saw designs? You knew this was coming?”
“Oh, darling. We all knew it was coming.”
“Thanks for letting me in on the family secret.”
“You were too young and I didn’t want to worry you. I know how you worry.”
“I only worry because I’m never quite sure what’s going on.” I chug down my glass of soymilk.
“I think I’ll return to my room now, darling. I don’t have any interest in these people.”
“But they’re your people, Mother.”
“No, William. The one I want is a thousand miles away.”
“So you’re just going to be a hermit for the next three years?” I shove some mashed potatoes in my mouth to keep from saying something worse.
“I’ll be in my room, darling.” She stands up and glides across the enormous room. I want to hate her for abandoning me, but she’s all I have down here.
“Hey, dickweed.” Jack plops down at my table.
“Isn’t that old? Aren’t you about ready for a new nickname?”
“Shut up, mama’s boy.”
“What do you want, dude? Another laser to the forehead?”
“I want you to know that even though we’re being monitored, I’m gonna find a way to take you down, dickweed.”
“Sounds good.” I stand up and leave the table.
“Don’t walk away from me. I’m not finished,” he shouts.
I keep walking, ignoring his loud mouth. He starts following me. I’m not afraid of him, but I don’t want any problems on my first day. I look around for the surveillance cameras to make sure I stay within range. This is the first time I’m grateful for the invasion of privacy. I gesture toward the cameras. “They’re watching. You must’ve liked that laser, huh?”
“You’d better watch your back, bitch.”
I continue through the room and he wings an apple at me, perfectly timed so when I step down I roll my ankle on it. I trip and fall onto the fake grass, which glitches out for a second, exposing a white platform. Jack laughs and struts off. I hold my burning ankle, hoping nobody noticed. Not the greatest first-day impression. Nobody else makes a move to help out. It’s good to know who’s on your side when you’re a mile underground. You can take the people out of high-society, but you can’t take the high-society out of the people.
The hot combat trainer comes over to me. She’s even prettier in person: creamy white skin and light green eyes. “Are you okay? I saw what that jerk did. Here let me help you up.”
She has a strong grip and gets me back on my feet. She smells like fresh lemons. I use her shoulder to balance myself for the first few steps. I laugh through the splitting pain.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“For a second I was embarrassed, but I might as well be invisible.”
“Oh.” She smiles and pats my shoulder. “Maybe they should be embarrassed?”
“Jack’s not.”
“He’s just doing what he’s taught. I saw his father pushing him around earlier.”
“Yeah.” I step away to walk on my own when a flash of courage rushes over me. “I’m William. I live in Unit 9a if you ever want to come over and hang out.”
“Oh,” she says, and starts biting her fingernails.
I regret opening my mouth. “Or whatever. Thanks for helping me out. See you around.” I limp away toward the Blue Line.
“Wait, William. I’m Dru. I’d love to hang out, but it’s not really permitted down here. They don’t want employees mingling with the residents.” She touches my shoulder and electricity shoots through my arm. “But I’m sure we can figure out something.” She smiles and I’m filled with a sense of hope.
The tram pulls up and I step inside. “Um, yeah, okay. Cool.” The door closes b
efore I can say something more profound.
*
I’m in my entertainment area, kicking back in my lounger with an ice pack on my ankle. I’m on my second movie since lunch. It’s a classic, The Maltese Falcon, with Humphrey Bogart. He was such a badass. I’m hoping to get some cues from him.
The intercom chimes, interrupting the movie.
“Yes, Hal. What is it?” I ask.
“You have an incoming call from Avalon. How would you like to receive it?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Video chat or voice-only.”
“Video chat’s fine.”
Mother’s face appears on the monitor where I was just watching the movie. “Hello, my darling.” Her eyes are puffy and haggard.
“You okay?” I throw a blanket over my ankle so she doesn’t see the ice pack.
“I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll dine alone in my quarters this evening.”
“Yeah, I’m with you on that.”
“Try not to be too much of shut-in, darling.”
“It’s okay for you to be a hermit, but not me?”
“You’re young and have more opportunities to find friends.”
“I’m fine hanging out with you.”
“Yes, I know, darling. But I need to catch up on some sleep. Talk to you tomorrow.” She signs out of the video chat and the movie returns.
During the closing credits, I’m interrupted again by another chime.
“What is it, Hal?” Her constant meddling is starting to irritate me.
“The coverage of Repatterning is beginning in the Community Hall.”
“Can I get it here?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, stream it.”
We’ve only been down here one day and things are already happening on the outside. It’s crazy. I can’t imagine what they’ll show: more people leaving town, long lines at gas stations? I wonder if they’ll interview Father so he can share his vision with the rest of us. The screen flashes on and there’s a bunch of aerial shots of Los Angeles. The camera zooms over neighborhoods, showing hundreds of people standing in lines for blocks, waiting to get into grocery stores. In the crappier neighborhoods, there are riots breaking in the streets and fires burning.