*
Meanwhile, in another time and place entirely, a man was sitting in an office. It was a stately office, full of oak furnishings and bookcases packed with medical journals. In contrast to the polished look of the office, the man was rather plain. He wore a faded blue shirt, which bore numerous multi-coloured stains, all of which reeked of chemicals. He wore a dirty lab-coat over his shirt, which had obviously seen better days. His grey pants looked well-worn, and his black shoes were scuffed and frayed. It was obvious that this was a man who was not overly worried about his appearance, most likely due to the fact that he had not received a single visitor in over thirty years.
At present, he was reviewing a file that had been left on his desk. It had been left there by his son, who had wandered away after dropping it off. Knowing him, he was most likely in the training room, perfecting his techniques. The man was in quite a good mood, which was a rarity for him. His annual scan of the surrounding area had revealed a thirty percent decrease in pollution concentration, which meant that his plan was proceeding smoothly.
In addition, the machine in charge of watching the cryogenic stations had informed him that 99.9 percent of the global population was still in cryogenesis. He had reasoned that the remaining 0.1 percent was most likely just a problem in the calculating software, and had already scheduled maintenance for the machine, which would happen in three days’ time.
He turned the page of the report -which was filled with data values and charts- and grimaced. The page was titled, “Decrease in Production Rate” and was nothing but bad news. The article told of a seventy percent decrease in production in the NOVUS program, with a nine out of ten defect rate. The man in the office scowled as he read further into the report, his good mood fading fast. “If I could only replicate my earlier success, there wouldn't be any problems. What was it about subject 14? Why was it so easy to replicate? Perhaps, the answer lies outside the genetic code? Radiation, perhaps? I shall have to go through subject 14's medical records later...”
The man's thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing sound, which had come from one of the many monitors on his desk. They were an older model, bulky and keyboard controlled, but the man had insisted on them. He had always preferred using older tech. To him, it had a certain charm, a sense of purpose, that the newer models supposedly lacked. Placing the disappointing file on the hardwood surface, the man leant over and tapped a section of the desk.
A moment later, a pre-Quantum Age keyboard popped out from a recessed groove. It had been hard to acquire such an antique, but he had been a very important man before the end of the world. With deft hands that had been honed by years of inputting commands on scientific instruments, he quickly accessed the buzzing monitor. It was one of many that had been assigned to watch the cryogenic stations. This particular display was labelled C-Rev.52, and, up to that point, had never changed its message, “No changes detected.” Now however, it's screen showed something very different.
“Full Lock-down initiated. Intruders detected in Cryo-Pod chamber. Activating defence measures. Sealing blast doors. Funnelling NEURO-997 to designated rooms. Disturbance detected in Station Waterworks. Error. Intruders have disappeared. Beginning scan of all sub-systems and service areas...”
For a while, the man in the office just sat there, staring at the disastrous message. He felt like getting angry, but his rational side convinced him that doing so would only be a waste of his valuable time. Instead, he silently fumed, as his mind raced.
Calm down. It's most probably just a bug in the system. Guardian has always been the most trigger happy of all the A.I.'s, so he probably just over reacted. But... if I combine this with the C-Gen.13 report from a few weeks ago, no, it can't be a full awakening... So, best case scenario, it's a glitch, and worse case it's an isolated incident. Still, if there really are humans that are awake, then they will most likely be looking for shelter from the pollution. And if Revelation Station kicked them out, then the closest place is... here. Even though the chances are slim, I should still be prepared.”
On the edge of his desk lay a single, bronze bell. It had been a gift from one of his few friends, and was inscribed with the word, “Pavlov.” Picking up the conch shaped instrument up, he gently rang it, once, twice, and then a third time. It was a code that he had made, one ring meant that he wanted something urgently; two rings meant that he was in danger; and three rings was an immediate summoning. Under his breath he counted the seconds, until there was a knock at the carved oak door.
“Enter.”
The man who entered wore a look of polite inquiry, but the man behind the desk knew that it was a mask.
“What is it you require of me, Father?”
The man's son had closed the door behind him, and had quickly made his way to the centre of the spacious room. He stood before the desk, arms folded behind his back, eyes facing forward. He wore a white podsuit, which, at his own insistence, had been emblazoned with several golden lines that snaked up his torso and encircled the hems. He had requested it after the man behind the desk -his Father- had told him a story about the angels, a species of mythological creatures who had served the heavens.
The man in the white podsuit had listened with rapt attention, as his Father explained how the angels had always been clad in white and gold. After the story had finished, the man's son had said, with a puzzled look on his face, “They were impressive, to be sure… but I could do better.”
And the man had said, “You are right, we should not tolerate anything less than perfection.”
“Father?”
The word snapped the man out of his recollections, and brought him back to the matter at hand. After showing the boy the monitor, he said, “Son, it seems as though we will be receiving guests very shortly. I want you to go and prepare for their arrival.”
“As you wish, Father.”
After the man in the angelic podsuit had left, his Father leant back into his deep chair. He closed his eyes and, without a single hint of malice in his voice, said, “I will be the one to wash away the sin of humanity. I will create a perfect world, free from their mistakes...”
Awakening Page 169