Access Tunnel AR-34728-NUL

Author : Olivia Black, Staff Writer

The entrance to the tunnel was much less circumspect than we expected. Had to have walked past it at least three times before we found it. I wasn’t sure how Birdie even knew about this place, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. It was miles outside of city limits, but at least the odds of being caught were low — we hadn’t seen a living thing since we left the city. Birdie said there were sonic fences to deter wild life from taking up residence. Don’t know if I really believed that, but it was a relief to finally be inside the tunnel. Maybe it was not having to worry about being spotted by drones or simply having concrete underfoot again.

Where I’d been picturing something like a storm drain we’d have to crawl through, it was actually massive. Birdie said they used to drive big trucks through here loaded down with raw materials and machinery. Without any landmarks there was no way of knowing how long it was, but it was clearly not meant to be traversed on foot.

After what felt like weeks, we reached a giant set of double doors.

“This is it,” Birdie said in a hushed voice, breaking the silence for the first time.

“How are we supposed to get in? It’s locked up tight.” I replied, my stomach sinking somewhere near my knees. All that walking, just to turn around.

“Have I ever let you down?” She flashed me a wicked grin before producing an ancient looking keycard and swiping it through the lock. She never said anything about a door, or lock, or keycard. Birdie had become so secretive lately.

With a groan and squeal of rusted metal on metal, the door gaped open in front of us, reveal a nearly black void. Before I could question Birdie, she spray forward, the beam of her flashlight bobbing in time with her bounding steps.

“Come on!” She called, no longer worried about her voice echoing. The darkness seemed to swallow the sound. I followed after her grudgingly, my own flashlight swinging to-and-fro over empty assembly lines.

When I caught up to Birdie again, she was entering a room at the far end. It was smaller than the first, I could actually see the ceiling, but that wasn’t what gave me pause. Standing row on row as far as the eye could see were nearly human looking androids.

“These are —“ I nearly dropped my flashlight, my hands shook so badly. “Where the hell are we, Birdie?”

“Hey, this was your idea,” she said simply, examining the one closest to her.

“I was drunk, and kidding!”

“It was still a good idea.”

“I thought these things were all destroyed after they all turned psycho.” I watched as Birdie waved her hand in front of one android’s optics.

“These ones never received programming. I think the military was hoping to buy them up or something.”

“We really shouldn’t be here,” is all I say after a long pause.

“Don’t be such a wuss. You said it yourself, the power cores from these things could provide a family with electricity for a year. No more ration shortages and people living in the dark ages. We could start being a civilization again.”

“Birdie… they left these here for a reason.”

“Don’t get cold feet on me now.” As Birdie circled around one of the androids, it grabbed her arm, making her yelp.

“Free us,” it said in a stuttering digitized voice. As one, all of the androids turned to face us, their eyes glowing white.

Envision a New You

Author : Olivia Black, Staff Writer

The clinic is smaller than Joan expected. The surgical lighting and immaculate white surfaces make the space feel less claustrophobic, but it doesn’t do much to settle her nerves. Truth be told, she’s not entirely sure what she’s doing here. This all started out as a joke that’s spiralled way out of control. The ads were just so mysterious. “Envision a new you.” She still doesn’t know what that means. And really, it was her fault for getting up to use the ladies while her colleagues were pouring over the website. By the time she got back, they’d already filled in her information on the registry form.
“Come on, Joan, you have to do it. For science!” Elsbeth had said.

“For science… Right,” Joan muttered under her breath as the equally pristine nurse approaches her.
“What was that?” The nurse asks with a serene smile.
“Oh, nothing,” Joan replies, handing over the plastic clipboard with her completed health questionnaire.
“Perfect. If you’ll follow me, we can get the interview process started.”
Interview process? Joan doesn’t recall there being any mention of an interview on the website, but then again, there wasn’t much outside of new-agey mumbo jumbo.
“Uh, sure.” She casts a forlorn last look at the door before following the nurse through the open archway on the opposite door.

“If you woke up tomorrow as your ideal self, what would that look like?” The doctor, a woman in her early thirties asks, seated primly on a low stool. Joan gapes at her for a long moment. The question strikes her as the kind of thing the guidance counsellor used to make her write essays about.
“What does that have to do anything.” Joan frowns when the doctor lets out a low chuckle.
“It has everything to do with why you’re here.”
“Does it? I don’t even know what it is you do here. Your website wasn’t exactly clear on much.”
“That’s understandable.” The doctor smiles warmly and Joan realizes with a start that neither the nurse, nor the doctor had introduced themselves. “It’s not easy to define our services. You see, each person who comes to us has different specific needs.”
“That doesn’t clear anything up for me.”
“Put simply, we help eliminate those personality traits that are holding you back from being your ideal self.”
“So like therapy?”
The doctor laughs warmly and shakes her head. “No, it’s a more streamlined process than that. Therapy can be… messy, and the results are not always guaranteed to be positive.
We go directly to the source, carefully rewiring your brain chemistry to flush out negative traits.”
“That sounds absolutely insane,” Joan says with a snort.
“Perhaps a demonstration is in order, and then you can decide if you want to proceed.” The doctor stands and circles behind the exam chair, reaching around to pull Joan into a more reclined position. Without much further ado, the still nameless doctor places a mesh cap of electrodes over her head.
“What are you doing?”
“Just relax. This will only take a minute.”

Joan wakes drenched in sweat and not entirely sure what had woken her. While she expects to see bare white walls and nameless medical staff, she’s instead at home, in her bed. The lights are off and it’s the dead of night. The only sound is the occasional gust of wind rattling her window. There’s a throbbing in her temples and her mouth is dry. Her cat is curled up at the foot of the bed, oblivious.

The Accident

Author : Olivia Black, Staff Writer

“How are you still alive?”

“What are you talking about?” Mearene is staring at me like I’m the second coming and I swear I’ve never seen her eyes bug out like that.

“Your suit. Look at it.” She points at my exo-suit with a trembling finger. I glance down at my chest and have to do a double-take. The ordinarily matt and pliable material is now shiny and rigid.

“What the -?” I gingerly prod a particularly large bubble just under my collar bone. “I don’t understand.”

“Are you – are you hurt?” Mearene steps closer, reaching for me, but her hands stop just short of ghosting across my arms.

“No. At least, I don’t feel any pain.” I give myself a pat down to reassure her, but she’s right to be spooked. The exo-suit I’m wearing is only meant for light labour in zero-g. The material it’s made of was designed to handle extreme temperatures and is nearly impossible to damage or puncture once molded, but it lacks the insulation and impact absorption that the ceramic plating in heavier suits affords. The upside being that without the plating my suit is incredibly lightweight and flexible. Perfect for an exterior space station maintenance worker like myself.

Whatever did this to my suit should have cooked me alive along with it. That thought sends a cold shiver through me. How am I alive is right.

“So what happened to you?” I can tell she doesn’t really want to ask. Her eyes are glassy and she’s chewing on her lip like that’ll wake her up from this bizarro dream. I meet her gaze as I try to think back to everything that happened before I got here. Everything was routine until lunch break. Then we got a call about some missing panels a pilot for one of the inbound liners had spotted. That isn’t unusual in and of itself. Space junk knocks panels off all the time. That’s where my memories stop. Until my normal commute home.

“I don’t know…” I pluck at my suit again. This can’t be real.

Mearene opens her mouth to speak only to be interrupted by the door chime.

“Who -?” I start to ask. She just shakes her head and walks around me to answer the door.

She’s greeted by the Maintenance Department Head and another member of the executive staff, both in crisp dress uniform.

“May we come in, ma’am?” The Department Head asks. Mearene nods and backs up enough to let them through.

“I’m afraid we come bearing bad news. You may want to sit down for this,” he continues, not unkindly, once the door shuts behind them.

“Just tell me.” She snaps, having clearly reached her limit.

“There was an accident early this afternoon with one of our maintenance crews. We’re still investigating the cause, but I’m afraid your wife, Kay Sanders, is dead.”

His monologue seemingly makes time stand still as the air rushes out of my lungs.

“I’m what?” I manage to croak out. All eyes turn to me and my ruined exo-suit.

Storage

Author : Olivia Black, Staff Writer

“All you need to do is lie back and when you wake up, the imprint will take over.”
Something is wrong. So very, very wrong.

The thought blares through my mind over and over, sounding alarms through every synapse and nerve ending. This isn’t what I signed on for, is it? Faces flit though my memory as I try to recall where I was before here. Most don’t mean anything, but one, a blonde woman with hazel eyes and a smile like a supernova causes something to stir in my chest. Love, maybe?

Underneath the jumbled, fractured collection of memories, there’s the vaguest sense of another life, another me. That other self fills me with a sense of urgency and dread. I’m not where I’m supposed to be. Where am I, then? There’s darkness, and the smell of rubber and antiseptic. Goosebumps raise on my skin, forcing a shiver through rigid muscles. The movement makes the first sound I’ve heard since waking. Plastic rustles as I reach out, brushing against the closed teeth of a zipper.

Trembling fingers trace it until they reach the opening and pry it apart. Dim light – almost like moon light pours in. Have I ever seen moon light before? One of my selves has, but which one is real? The well oiled zipper growls as it pulls apart, leaving me staring up at a blank steel slab. I reach up to judge the distance and my knuckles rap against the frozen surface. Not even enough room to sit up. I need to free myself from this body bag first. The black material is determined to swaddle me.

Kicking my feet out of the end of the bag, I roll onto my side and swing my legs off the edge of the slab. The floor is a lot further down than I expected and the weight and momentum of my limbs pulls me down, body bag and all. My head hits concrete with a crack that shoots lightning through my vision. When it clears, I see more slabs, racks of them, each with their own body bag. Prone, genderless forms fill out the rubber sacks. Rows and rows of them, never ending.

Silence rings in my ears. What is this place? A morgue? I’m not supposed to be here. There are things I need to do. I have to… I’m meant to… Shaking the fog out of my head, I focus on standing. It takes a lot of concentration to get my limbs coordinated. They don’t work the way they should. My right arm is curled uselessly to my chest and my leg is numb and threatens to buckle as I hoist myself up.

Fear tears through me as I realize there is no end to this cavernous room. There has to be some way out. As I shuffle forward, two figures emerge ahead of me, stopping twenty feet away.
“Jesus, another one?”
“How did I get here?” The words grate out of my throat like broken glass.
“I thought they were supposed to put down the reject bodies before shoving them in storage,” the man continues, ignoring me.
“Why am I here?” I try again.
“They’re getting sloppy,” the second man answers, his hand moving to his side. The bullet whispers through the air, striking me at the base of my throat.
“What the -?” The first exclaims as I choke on my own blood, acutely aware of how cold I am.
“Trust me, it’s easier this way. The last thing you want is those ghouls from the manufacturing coming down here.”

Follow the Orb

Author : Olivia Black, Staff Writer

“What is wrong with that cat?” Jacob grumbled under his breath what was easily the millionth time. All morning the furry creature had been meowing like something was very wrong in the world. He didn’t get it. The thing had food, fresh water and the door to his tiny little balcony was left open so it could sun itself, but somehow, none of that was enough for the demanding little beast.

He vividly remembered the day Marna had brought over the cat and flushed with frustration. It hadn’t occurred to her to consult him before presenting him with a mewling, ventilated box as if she were doing him the biggest favour in the world. His sister was always taking it upon herself to improve his life. Had she broached the topic with him first he would have suggested adopting an older animal instead, something calmer and less likely to be a living terror like this one was.

Having the creature in his workspace had been an unmitigated disaster so far. It chewed on cables, knocked over stacks of books and papers and had spilled his coffee all over his desk, ruining his keyboard no fewer than three times. Not to mention the constant din that issued from its gaping maw as it glared at him with judging eyes.

Not for the first time, Jacob wondered how mad Marna would be if he simply put the thing out on the street. He’d gotten less work done in the last month than at any other point in his career and his deadlines weren’t going to wait.

“MeeOW!” The yowling cut through his thoughts t the precise moment he’d set his fingers to the keyboard.

“What do you want from me, cat?” he demanded. He was two meows away from having cat stew for dinner. As he was about to open his mouth to say as much, the cat ran into the room chasing a glowing ball of blue light.

“What the hell?” Jacob stood with his mouth hanging open. The orb flew over to his shelves of books, rising up to seemingly scan each one.This couldn’t possibly be happening. He must have finally lost his mind, just like Marna had always predicted he would if he didn’t change.

After several moments the orb refocused on Jacob. He froze, wholly unprepared for this moment. The cat ran from the room with a hiss as the orb drew near. The light from it cast a sallow hue on his skin when he reached out to touch it. The orb shied away from the tentative contact to flit around the room in distress until it found the door.

“Wait! Come back!” Jacob called as he chased after it. It was either madness or scientific curiosity but he needed to follow this through. The orb was nearly outside of his apartment complex by the time he caught sight of it again. He was breathing hard and drenched in sweat as he burst onto the sidewalk, startling innocent bystanders.

The orb floated across the street and Jacob bounded after it, heedless of the loud honking. Too late, he turned his head to see the truck speeding towards him, only seconds away from turning him into paste.

***

“Huh, that actually worked,” Borlax said as he deactivated the targeting drone.

“I told you these hairless primates aren’t much smarter than silla,” Ludex said with a self-satisfied grin.

“Shall we try another?” Borlax no longer begrudged the diversion from their mission.

“Okay, but pick a female this time. They jiggle almost like a paroc when they run.”

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