Gyaros Book One: The Mice Eat Iron (YA 17+ Sci Fi Adventure)

by Rohan Healy

  Miles breathed deeply in through his nose and sucked up the familiar smell of his office. The scent of plastic and warm computers, carpet cleaning products, and the perfumes and deodorants of a hundred different people. The décor of The Energy Department was much like the décor of the other administrative departments of Elissa, which was much the same as Elissa itself. That is to say sleek and white with a smattering of vegetation to break up the uniformity of the stark white design. Miles smiled again as he overheard his co-workers in conversation, picking up snippets of news, sporting events, or what happened on last night’s episode of Wasteland Dan, still the most popular visor vision series on The Carthage Vision Network.

  Miles was not the social type, preferring to keep to himself. He did however enjoy listening in to the chit chat of others, silently joining in the conversation with his own ideas and opinions, of which he kept to himself. Miles was not entirely without friends though, thanks to Clark Tenor who worked in the booth directly opposite his. Clark was chubby and jovial, happy to reinforce the stereotypic association between portliness and the carrying of an air of cheerfulness. Clark was a genuinely spritely guy, polite and decent with a beaming round face that disarmed those in even the foulest of moods. Clark warmed to Miles early on as they began working the same year and had been close ever since, often enjoying time together outside of work hours.

  Finally Miles reached his cubicle, slid his briefcase under his desk and, upon taking a seat, placed his hands, palms down onto the clean white surface in front of him.

  “Verifying, please wait,” spoke a robotic male voice. “Verification complete. Welcome Back Miles Stanton. Please have a productive day.”

  And with that a screen, no more than a centimetre thick rose directly out of the top of the desk between Miles’ two hands. The screen flipped up to reveal a keyboard and navigation pad below. The keyboard then tilted down toward Miles and he began typing away. As he did every morning, Miles navigated straight to his emails and as usual there were around thirty unread messages. His eyes scanned the subject lines in order to determine which of the emails required his attention most urgently.

  14/06/61 07:32 - “Mr Stanton, The Accounting Department requires the latest power consumption reports for Elissa’s South West Green Districts.”

  14/06/61 07:58 - “Mr Stanton, The Legal Department requires your report on the latest power surge in Elissa’s Eastern Yellow Districts which resulted in the expiration of the Stevenage family.”

  14/06/61 08:13 - “Miles, don’t forget about the half year office party this Friday, bring your wife and remember it’s fancy dress.”

  14/06/61 08:26 - “Miles honey, we need to talk. Hellen”

  Miles froze, he read it again.

  “Miles honey, we need to talk. Hellen”

  He hovered his cursor over the link to open the message but could not bring himself to click it. First of all Hellen had not called Miles ‘honey’ in over a year, so his suspicions were immediately raised. ‘What on Carthage could she want?’ Miles thought to himself. Secondly there was no way the content of the email was good, no one has ever said ‘we need to talk’ when they had some good news to share! Thirdly Hellen had not emailed Miles at work since their first two years of marriage, which happened to be over 2 years ago. There was once a time when Hellen would send virtual hugs and kisses, messages of support and even the odd ‘Not Safe For Work’ email describing in graphic detail exactly what she was going to do to him when he got home. But that was a long, long time ago. And finally Hellen was not one to hold back, usually if she had something to say she would scream it across the kitchen for the neighbours to hear. An email was highly uncharacteristic of her. ‘This is big, this must be some very serious shit,’ Miles repeated to himself shaking slightly now, beads of sweat forming on his brow. ‘Is she leaving me? Or could this be about Chet, oh shit has something happened to Chet?!’

  As soon as he realised that Chet might be hurt Miles quickly snapped out of his stupor, took a deep breath and brought his finger down to open the message. But before he could do so, a familiar face poked out from the cubicle wall in front of him.

  “Hey Miles!” beamed Clark, his big round face grinning infectiously over the partition between their respective work stations, “how you doing? You don’t look well, are you sick? Those damn mosquitos have been giving everyone Aegean Malaria, you didn’t catch it too did you? It’s no biggie, you just take a shot and it goes, but the symptoms tend to last a week or so. That’s one nasty week you’ve got ahead of you if it’s Aegean Malaria!”

  Miles, still frozen could barely muster a response.

  “Ugh, ha, n-no, I’m fine, I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, that’s all,” he managed to stammer weakly. Clark frowned, doubting the honesty of what he’d just heard, but his face quickly returned to a wide smile.

  “Ha! Slept in this morning did we? You should get to bed early on a Sunday night, I didn’t pick you for the partying type.”

  Miles attempted a shaky smile and spoke, “no it’s not that, I just had a lot of reports to get through before today, did you hear about what happened to that Stevenage family who died during the power surge?”

  Clark’s smile quickly fell from his face, “yes that was horrible, all three of them burnt to a crisp. Investigators found them huddled in a corner. I heard they had to cremate them all together ‘cause their remains couldn’t be separated,” Clark swallowed dryly, as though trying to get rid of an unpleasant taste.

  “Yeah, going through the grisly details of that case was not my idea of a nice Sunday evening,” Miles said still attempting to remain calm, all the while his thoughts racing about the contents of the mysterious email.

  “So look I’ve got a lot to catch up on this morning Clark, why don’t we continue this conversation over lunch,” Miles smiled convincingly in an attempt to shake Clark off and get back to reading the message.

  “Actually Miles, there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Clark’s face was uncharacteristically stern, and he spoke with a tone in his voice completely unfamiliar to Miles, one of absolute seriousness. First Hellen now Clark, what was going on?

  “Look Clark I really am busy could you…” before he could finish his sentence Clark cut him off.

  “This can’t wait buddy, I’ve really gotta tell you something, it’s important that you hear it from me first.”

  Miles’ heart sunk, ‘oh crap, this can’t be good,’ he thought. ‘Is it my job? I can’t lose my job! No way could they fire me, I don’t have a single mark against my name, I’ve always been an exemplary member of the staff here!’ Clark had by this time made his way around the partition and was crouching down beside Miles in his cubicle.

  “Listen Miles,” said Clark in a low voice, “you have to promise me that you won’t do anything crazy when I tell you what I’m about to tell you. No matter how you feel, you’ve gotta take a breath, breathe it in deep, and don’t do anything rash.”

  “Ok I promise, now please tell me what is going on,” Miles took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. Remaining calm was what he did all his life, if remaining calm were a talent he could win The Entertainment Department’s Visor Vision Talent Extravaganza of Elissa! He’d remained passive and calm for over a year of marital turmoil, he’d accepted every request to work over time without protestation, and being the shy type he’d suffered the jeers and jokes of co-workers for five long years. Suffice it to say that Miles could make this promise with a degree of certainly that few others could.

  Clark continued, “now I’m serious Miles, you really don’t want to do anything crazy, you’ve got a good life going here, you’ve got a young son, a stable job and you’ve got…” but before Clark could finish, Miles, losing his patience, and already stressed from life at home, violently grasped him by the collar, and bringing his face within an inch of Clark’s, Miles began to whisper ferociously.

  “Just tell me what the fuck is going on Clark,” he growled through cle
nched teeth, Clark blinked as specs of saliva reinforced the message.

  “Okay, okay, fine,” Clark said quietly now shaking, “it’s Tyler.”

  “What about Tyler?” Miles said quietly and calmer than before. Tyler Riggs also worked in The Energy Department, and was a popular guy, good looking, funny, but with a cruel sense of humour. Miles could not count the number of times he had been the butt of a Tyler Riggs prank. Everything from sending Miles’ private messages around the office for all to see, to physically tripping Miles as if they were still in high school. Of course after the laughter had subsided Tyler would always say, “hey it’s just a joke man, take it easy. What’s wrong, can’t you laugh at yourself once in a while? Quit being so defensive, damn!” Tyler being the sector manager made things even worse. The diligent worker that he was, Miles would often be tasked with picking up the slack for the laziness or inability of his co-workers, not least Mr Riggs himself who had made a habit of palming off his undesirable work, and that of other workers, onto Miles. This resulted in very late nights and extremely busy weekends for the overworked Miles Stanton.

  “What did Tyler do this time?” Miles anxious now to hear what nefarious plot had been perpetrated against him on this occasion.

  “It’s your wife Miles, it’s Hellen…” Clark stopped and brought his gaze to the floor, no longer able to maintain eye contact with Miles.

  “Spit it out for God’s sake Clark, don’t do this to me!” Miles pleaded now shaking Clark by the collar, his hands balled into fists around Clark’s cotton work shirt, his knuckles as white as the office furniture.

  Finally Clark began to speak again, his voice cracking, “it’s Tyler and Hellen, Miles, it’s not good.” Clark looked up to regain eye contact, “on my way out of work on Friday I overheard Tyler and his buddies, he’s been sleeping with her for the past three months. He said she’s getting ready to leave you and start a serious relationship with him.”

  Miles’ grip loosened and all the colour, what was left of it, drained from his face completely. Waves of nausea pulsated from Miles’ stomach, up through his chest, and into his throat. He felt like he was going to be sick, his gut twisting and knotting upon hearing this news.

  “B-but, when, how, i-it can’t be true,” Miles stammered, his eyes darting about frantically as he attempted to register what he’d just been told, “she works all day in The Biochemistry Research Facility, and I’m home on the weekends! It’s just not possible.”

  “Yeah you’re at home on the weekend, catching up on work, but she sure isn’t. And you spend all your evenings here, shit you’re the last out of the office every damn night of the week! Don’t tell me it’s impossible, there’s plenty of occasion for it, and I heard it from Tyler himself,” Clark whispered back, relieved that he had gotten the information out into the open, no longer was the terrible secret eating him up inside, as it had all weekend.

  “S-so wait, that bastard Tyler has had me working overtime so that he could fuck my wife?! I, I just, I can’t even…” Miles placed his hands to his face and slumped in his chair.

  Clark leaned over and put an arm around Miles, “hey now, c’mon it’s going to be alright, you’re a tough guy, I’m here and I’ll help you get through it, we’re gonna work this out, everything is gonna be ok, you just stay calm and let it all out.”

  A thousand thoughts raced through Miles’ head, not one of them coherent, until suddenly he remembered! The email, the mysterious message. There was no longer any doubt about what it was regarding. Miles sat up straight, much to Clark’s surprise, and brought his hands to his keyboard and navigation pad. Miles moved his cursor to the subject line, took a short, sharp breath and clicked…

  “Dear Miles,

  I don’t know how to put this so I’m just going to come out and say it. We’re through. Our marriage is over and I want you out of the house immediately, that means today. I’ve packed your belongings into one of the big cases, it contains everything you will need to spend the next few nights in a hotel. You can pick up the luggage after work and you can use your home computer to make accommodation arrangements and then you have to leave. Chet and I will not be there. If you refuse to leave, or make a scene I will alert The Enforcers.

  I’ve already talked to my lawyer and we can begin the divorce proceedings when you are settled. We will be able to negotiate the splitting of our assets and custody of Chet over the next few weeks and months.

  Don’t hate me Miles, I tried, I really tried to love you, to make our marriage work, but you’re never home, and when you are home you spend all your time working in your study. I once loved you deeply Miles but I can no longer pretend that I still do. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, forgive me for I didn’t have the strength to say it to your face.

  I hope that in time the pain will pass and we can remember the good times with fond memories.

  I’m sorry Miles.

  Hellen”

  Miles sat there stunned, his mouth agape, his mind blank. It was as though time had stopped, his surroundings faded into black nothingness as the full magnitude of what he had just read began to dawn on him. His marriage was over, his five year marriage to his beloved college sweetheart was no more. The mother of his four year old son had ended, suddenly and without warning, their once perfect marriage. Despite the troubles of the past year it never once crossed Miles’ mind that it could be leading to something like this. Something so sudden, so fatal, so final. Divorce!

  “Holy shit…” whispered Clark who, after witnessing Miles’ reaction, could not help but read the email from over Miles’ shoulder. He continued to speak, “whoa buddy, just…whoa. I am so sorry man, if I can do anything just ask. You know you can stay with me until things settle down. And listen I’m sure if you talk to Hellen you guys can work this whole messy business out. You just stay calm, and let’s get you out into the plaza for some fresh air and coffee, huh? What do you say?”

  Miles had not moved an inch or said a word, nor had he registered a word of what Clark just said. Miles felt his heart sink and all his energy begin to drain, he started to shake and could feel the urge to burst into tears coming on, waves of emotion swept over him as he began to take short, sharp breaths. He began hyperventilating.

  “I can’t breathe,” said Miles panicking now, with real fear in his eyes. He reached out and steadied himself on Clark’s formidable shoulders. And then like a child Miles buried his face in Clark’s soft chest and began to sob uncontrollably.

  By this time the other workers had started to notice that something was up and a small crowd was gathering around Miles’ cubicle.

  The hushed mumblings of the onlookers could be heard.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “That’s Miles Stanton!”

  “Was he fired?”

  “My God, what a baby.”

  Clark looked up angrily at the mob and spoke.

  “Hey c’mon, give the guy some space. Let’s be decent human beings here, he’s going through a hard time for goodness sake!”

  Miles was still bawling uncontrollably, turning a large part of Clarks light blue shirt several shades darker with his tears. It was a pathetic sight, a grown man crying in the arms of his friend, and one that only the cruellest of the cruel could make fun of. And then, as if on cue, who should appear but the one person that Miles did not want to see at this very moment.

  “Ha! What are you crying about Miles?” asked Tyler Riggs, flanked on both sides by his cronies and smiling arrogantly. Tyler could not disguise his perverse enjoyment of the scene before him, he positively basked in the warm sense of schadenfreude he was extracting from witnessing Miles’ plight, as psychopaths tend to do in such situations.

  “Hey, I don’t give you that much overtime do I? Haha!” Tyler continued to laugh and taunt, and his goons mimicked his laughter like parrots.

  “Tyler, stop it,” Clark appealed in vain, “leave the guy alone, and get out of the way so I can take him to the plaza to get
some air.”

  “Hmmm, I could do that, but as your sector manager you require my permission to take an unscheduled break. And well, I just don’t feel like giving you one. Tell you what boys,” Tyler continued, glancing up to the large digital clock at the front of the office, “it’s only three more hours until lunch, why don’t you two get back to work before I decide to make you work through your lunch hour to make up for all this crying, huh?”

  Tyler leaned over, hands in pockets and beamed a sadistic smile in Clark’s face. Clark’s eyes narrowed and his lips pursed knowing that Tyler was completely within his rights to do such a thing. Meanwhile Miles’s weeping, which had remained basically the same the entire time, began to subside, his sobs becoming less frequent as he regained control over his breath.

  “Okay Tyler, we’ll get back to work, just give us a second to get organised,” Clark conceded, noticing that Miles’ condition had improved.

  “NOW people, chop chop,” Tyler clapped his hands together repeatedly, hurrying his subordinates along. And as he turned to walk away, under his breath he muttered, “no wonder that bitch is done with your ass, fuckin’ pussy.”

  Upon hearing those words Miles’ eyes opened suddenly and he felt intense, burning rage building up from deep within himself. His belly was filled with fire and his muscles were all at once incredibly strong and energised. This was usually the point at which Miles’ would clench his fists, bite his lip and use every ounce of his willpower to hold down his anger. Usually after a moment or two, thanks to deep breathing and reminding himself of the consequences of any kind of outburst, the feelings would subside and all would be back to normal. This worked for five long years, it worked for practical jokes, it worked for unfair workloads, it even worked for those times when Hellen would incessantly nit-pick and nag. This time however it was not going to do the trick. Miles simply did not possess the required amount of willpower needed to keep down this much anger. This was not just the anger from losing his wife, or finding out that his boss has been engaging in an affair with her. No, this was anger from childhood, from high school, from teachers who enjoyed chastising Miles for his shyness, bullies who laughed and teased when he wore his uniform to school on the casual clothes day, girls who laughed in his face when he asked them out, and every other slight, jibe, nag, taunt, tease and insult he had to put up with through college, at work and at home. There was not enough willpower in the universe, let alone in this poor man, that could have stopped what was about to happen next.