Before the Nothingness

by Kevin George

  He had plenty of other employees to research—from high-ranking scientists in One Corp.’s different divisions, all the way down to the lowliest construction worker operating machinery at the various dig sites—but he couldn’t shake the worry that today’s intruder might be part of a bigger conspiracy. He marched out of his office and crossed The Mountain’s main security room. Dave Smith led several dozen experts in overseeing all aspects of security in The Mountain and the surrounding lands. Monitors lined the walls, showing video footage from every angle of every hallway on every level of the Mountain, as well as footage from other drones circling One Corp.’s lands.

  “The micro cameras are still working great,” Samuel told Smith, extending an olive branch after his earlier blow-up. “No interference at all from The Mountain’s thick rock or from all of the construction equipment.”

  The security leader nodded. “And they’re quickly becoming antiquated. We’re finally starting to install holographic versions of the cameras.” He approached one of the work stations and ran his hands through a three-dimensional image located outside of Dr. Weller’s First Bio division. “The holo cams are even smaller than the normal ones. We’ve ordered thousands of them so it shouldn’t be long until we have holographic images of the entire facility.”

  Samuel left the security room and proceeded down the darkened hallway. Despite The Mountain’s interior levels housing state-of-the-art security systems and scientific laboratories of all variety, the lighting was strangely dim, something to do with the disproportionality of energy dispersal. Though the hallway appeared to have the same concrete walls as government installations, a closer inspection showed them carved from the mountain’s rock. A distant high-pitched drilling became louder the farther along he walked. He bypassed The Mountain’s elevator—energy blackouts seemed to affect the elevator first—and headed for the stairs.

  With the security center located in the heart of The Mountain, Samuel considered whether to head up or down, knowing that plenty of work was left to be done in both directions. He chose up, climbing two levels before reaching one of many sections dedicated to scientific research. Though most of The Mountain’s levels required security clearance via a simple keycard, the research levels required retinal scanning.

  The lighting on this level was as dim as it was on the security floor, but everything—the rocky walls, floor and ceiling alike—had been painted white. Samuel didn’t know how sterile this area was, but it appeared cleaner than everywhere else in The Mountain. He passed door after door, most of them labeled with the division they housed, before eventually reaching the one that read First Bio. It looked like every other lab on this level, but Samuel knew better.

  He glanced at the floor and saw several sets of muddy footprints leading into the door. He no longer had any doubt about the intruder being brought here. Another retinal scan allowed him to open the door and access an outer room to the main lab. The room was clean, yet filled with equipment that didn’t appear to be in use. Nobody was present so Samuel crossed the room toward a large pane of frosted glass. He tried to see into the next lab but could only make out a few unrecognizable shapes.

  He could only want the trespassers for one reason, Samuel thought.

  He approached the next door, but this time his retinal scan led to a blinking red light and denied entry. Samuel tried the door anyway, finding it locked. A second failed scan led to him pounding on the door. One voice cried for ‘help’ from the other side, while another voice—this one familiar—called for him to go away.

  “It’s me!” Samuel called out.

  The door cracked open moments later. Dr. Nigel Weller slid out through the small opening, closing the door behind him. Short and thin, pale-skinned and balding, Dr. Weller would not have cut an imposing figure to most people in most settings. Even though he was a One Corp. employee and technically Samuel’s underling, Samuel felt the need to bow his head and apologize for the interruption.

  “The trespasser found his way here?” Samuel asked.

  Weller smiled as he rubbed his shaking hands. “I’m not sure that’s the most accurate description of his journey, but yes, he is here.”

  “And are you. . .”

  Samuel let his unspoken question linger for several seconds. Weller eventually raised his eyebrows and sighed.

  “Prepping him, yes,” Weller said. “Making sure he’s a viable candidate, at which time I intended to come to you for approval to proceed with testing. You coming here makes it even easier. So, is this the moment we’ve been waiting for?”

  Samuel glanced toward the inner lab’s door. “Maybe if you let me talk to—”

  “Not a good idea,” Dr. Weller said. “Don’t let it get personal.”

  Samuel frowned. “Can you say with certainty that your newest version of Blast is ready for success in humans?”

  Samuel couldn’t figure out if Weller’s next noise was a chuckle or a snort. Either way, Samuel knew the answer before the scientist spoke.

  “I’ve had a certain degree of success in rats and primates, but I don’t need to explain that humans have a different genome,” Weller said. “I don’t believe further animal testing will lead to a greater chance for success when we make the switch to humans. It’s better to jump into the deep end, so to speak, and then study the after-effects, if things don’t go well.”

  “Don’t go well?” Samuel asked.

  Samuel didn’t like the spark of excitement that flashed in the doctor’s eyes. They both understood the trespasser’s likely fate, but only one of them appeared eager for it to happen.

  “I thought we were beyond this,” Dr. Weller said with a sigh. “Look, you and I see the writing on the wall with what’s happening in the world. Your father groomed me for years for this sort of project, but the older he’s become, the softer he’s become. Luckily, you have as much say around here as he does. If I have to go to The Board for permission, they’ll never give it without consent from the Charles Jonas. Is that the route you want me to take? You want our progress halted now that we’ve reached this stage?”

  Samuel shook his head.

  “Your father left One Corp.’s lands for some sort of meeting?”

  Samuel nodded.

  “Then this is the perfect opportunity,” Dr. Weller said, “one we might not have again for a long time. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want this trespasser being let go so he can return to his old life and tell everyone about what’s going on here. Do you think it would take the public long to storm these lands?”

  “Probably not,” Samuel admitted. “Though we’ve already built defenses for that very possibility.”

  “And are those defenses ready to be used?” Weller asked. When Samuel didn’t answer, the doctor nodded, receiving his answer. “The trespasser in there might be a normal man that wanted to see what was happening in here. Or, he might’ve been sent here as a spy. Either way, he should’ve known he would never make it off of our lands once he attacked us. Don’t you agree?”

  After a moment of consideration, Samuel nodded, this time gaining a pat on the shoulder from Weller. The doctor placed his eye against the scanner and the inner lab door clicked open. Samuel tried to follow, but Dr. Weller put a hand to Samuel’s chest and pushed him back.

  “Please,” called out the trespasser, an older man strapped to a gurney inside the lab. “I just want to be let go. My daughter. . . she might still be alive somewhere. . . I’m the only one left who might find her. . .”

  Samuel tried to see more of the inner lab, but Dr. Weller quickly entered and closed the door, the trespasser’s pleas fading as the locks clicked.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Horace Jonas swiped his keycard at every magnetic lock on the way down The Mountain’s stairwell. Though he’d toured the scientific levels with his father several times—bored by the explanation of experiments being conducted by ‘the world’s greatest blah-blah-ologist’—his keycard didn’t work on any of the levels, nor was he allowed
access when he tried the retinal scanners.

  But I’m a Jonas, he thought after the first rejection, a surge of anger swelling in him. His last name alone had allowed countless opportunities in life, from attending the best schools to going on the best vacations to hanging out with the most popular kids (though he’d often felt like an outsider among them). Those days were long gone and he didn’t foresee the chance to leave The Mountain or One Corp.’s lands. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

  He tried not to think of his mother. Whenever he did, anxiety crushed his chest. Though it made no sense in his mind—and his father would never admit the truth—Horace had a feeling he’d never see her again. Not unless I do something about it. . .

  He’d been at The Mountain for six months, ever since the labs opened and the first of the living quarters were completed. His father insisted the outside world was too dangerous, a believable idea considering the current breakdown of civilization: government employees quitting en masse, police and firefighters abandoning their duties, a proliferation of looting, crime running rampant, food and gas shortages, energy blackouts. Rising ocean levels and dropping temperatures forced more and more citizens away from the coasts and south, where there wasn’t enough housing, even with One Corp.’s constant ISU contributions.

  Horace had been pulled out of school more than a year earlier. Rather than attending virtual classes as he was supposed to do, he’d watched countless hours of news programs showing the growing chaos. When he’d moved to the safety of The Mountain, he’d assumed his constant fear would disappear. Instead, the opposite occurred. Though Horace’s parents had split up when he was a kid, his father still agreed to let his mother come to The Mountain, albeit alone. He’d heard them arguing many times during the months she’d spent there, but he’d never given it much thought until his mother announced she was leaving to find other members of her family. Horace had wanted to go with her—despite the danger—but his father had refused, having security follow him around for weeks after his mother left.

  Now, security had grown lax around him, especially as his father grew increasingly paranoid about intruders. If Horace would ever have a chance to escape and search for his mother, this would be it. He passed the rest of the doors on the way down, hearing more drilling and construction, nodding to workers streaming in and out of different levels. He expected to be stopped at any moment and sent back to his room, but there was enough activity to let him blend in. By the time he reached the lowest level, his heart pumped furiously and his pulse raced with the possibility of leaving.

  “Watch it, kid!” a worker snapped at him.

  “S. . .sorry,” Horace said.

  The large man’s eyes narrowed, his scrunched face softening as he looked closer at Horace. Horace always knew when people recognized him.

  “Young Mr. Jonas, I’m so sorry,” the worker said. “I didn’t—”

  “It’s fine,” Horace said. “Carry on.”

  The worker nodded and hurried up the stairs. Horace lowered his head, suddenly regretting not wearing a disguise. He considered hurrying back to his room for a hat or heavier clothing, but he didn’t know if he’d ever make it this far down The Mountain without being spotted.

  He emerged into a massive hangar bay, the ceiling higher than several levels combined, its length stretching so far that Horace couldn’t see the far end. Bright white light streamed in from the near end, where massive hangar doors were open to the outside world. Horace had to shield his eyes from the bright light. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized that weeks passed since the last time he saw natural sunlight. Dozens of construction vehicles flowed in and out, countless dump trucks loaded with broken rock. Horace considered trying to stow away on board one of the trucks, but he didn’t want to leave his fate to whether or not he chose a truck with an observant driver.

  If I’m going to do this, I’m doing it on my own, he thought, his stomach swirling with a mix of nerves and excitement. Though most of the chaos centered on construction, it was quieter deeper in the hangar bay. Horace tried to see what was stored back there, but most of it was shrouded in shadows. Vehicles, they have to be back there.

  He looked at the walls and ceiling, trying to spot security cameras. Though he barely ever listened when his father babbled about Mountain security, Horace had absorbed enough to realize the cameras were too small to spot. There’d be no avoiding them, no avoiding his image flashing on one of the many screens in the security room. The slower he walked—the more he tried to avoid being spotted—the odder he would appear to anyone perusing the footage. He took a deep breath, lowered his head (but not too low as to appear suspicious) and marched across the hangar bay floor like he was supposed to be there.

  Horace didn’t know what would ultimately become of his secret mission, but the freedom he felt in that moment—where he went as he pleased and did as he pleased—made him breathe easier than he had since arriving at The Mountain. He weaved in and out of workers and equipment and certain danger, heading deeper into the hangar. The loudest noises faded and brightness gave way to dark.

  He reached a massive section of hangar apparently used for storage. Countless large objects were covered with canvas tarps. Horace approached the nearest one and reached for the tarp when he realized that might draw the attention of anyone watching. The covered object was too large to be anything of use, so he kept winding his way farther and farther back, resisting the temptation to stop and check beneath every tarp that piqued his curiosity. When the objects finally became smaller, Horace thought he might be on to something.

  But he also heard more noise, voices somewhere just ahead, as well as brighter lights near the back of the hangar. He finally lifted a tarp to a snowmobile underneath, his pulse exploding in anticipation. He’d never driven one before and had no idea how he’d get it outside—not to mention no idea where he’d drive it to—but Horace finally felt a semblance of control over his life. He let the tarp drop and drifted closer to the voices and group of people gathered at the back.

  Before focusing on a single person—of which there had to be at least three or four dozen huddled together—Horace’s eyes were drawn to the two biggest objects he’d seen so far. They were also the two that appeared most out of place inside The Mountain. A pair of ISUs stood against the far wall, several people in One Corp. jumpsuits standing in front of them, addressing the crowd. Horace had never seen them before, but he’d heard about the survivalists hired to teach future villagers how to live in ISUs.

  “Everything we’ve just taught you about maintaining proper greenhouse growing cycles is covered in this manual,” said one of the survivalists, holding up a copy of a thick book.

  “Producing food and maintaining soil integrity will obviously be of great importance,” another survivalist said. “Equally important will be maintenance of your ISU’s major systems, including solar panel replacement and hydraulic system repairs. This idea might seem daunting to some, but you’ve all worked for One Corp. long enough to know that top engineers designed these homes to be easily maintained.”

  Horace had seen his fair share of ISUs—he’d visited his grandfather once in the village’s earliest days of construction—but there was something about watching these people being taught to live in them that appealed to him. Regardless of worsening weather conditions, he imagined ISU-Ville to be an open, friendly environment, where thousands of people would work together to survive. Horace didn’t hate the cold nearly as much as he hated being held hostage in The Mountain.

  And that’s never going to change if I stand around here, waiting to be caught, he thought, staying among the shadows of the tarp-covered objects. He turned to leave when his eyes found a single person among the crowd, a girl who appeared to be around his age. Horace stopped and stared. Despite Horace standing shrouded in shadows, the girl’s head turned and her eyes found him. The look of surprise on her face quickly turned to a smile, which in turn reddened her cheeks and caused her to look bac
k at the ISUs.

  Worried that she might tell someone about his presence, Horace scurried behind the nearest object and crouched down, listening for yells or approaching footsteps. He heard neither. Nearly a minute passed as he had trouble controlling his breathing. Nerves were getting the better of him, but he realized he wasn’t thinking of snowmobiles or escaping. Instead, he thought about the girl. . . her smile. . . why her cheeks had reddened. Horace touched his cheeks with the back of his hand and felt them burning, too.

  As much as he wanted to try escaping, he found himself walking toward the crowd, uncertain what he planned to do or say to the girl. He no sooner joined the group—all of whom were focused on their survivalist teachers—than he turned and spotted the girl looking in his direction. Her brow furrowed, as if trying to figure him out. Horace quickly turned away, trying to remain subtle as he eased farther to the side of the group, silently cursing himself for being such a coward.

  “I have a question,” a man suddenly said, raising his hand high, waving it for all to see, his voice clearly unhappy. He only stood a few feet from Horace, who knew to slide farther away. A woman stood beside the man and tried to lower his hand, begging him to be quiet. He looked at her and shook his head vehemently. “This needs to be said.”

  “Question about the hydraulics, sir?” asked one of the survivalists, his voice calm despite the man’s aggressive tone.

  “Not about the hydraulics, about all of this,” he said, waving his arm in a wide arc, gesturing to everything around them. “When we were brought here, we weren’t told that a future in the ISUs was our only option.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the survivalist said. “That’s an issue you’ll have to raise with—”