Chapter One: finished Chapter Two: being worked on :)

Ali Carney
Chapter One
Waking up to the quiet motor of the house is never unnerving anymore; it’s almost calming. I wake to my life’s never changing routine, there is never something new. My parents travel to other ports, sometimes for weeks at a time, thus leaving great amounts of time to be by myself. Their work advertises all the latest technologies through the walkway’s sidescreens. From the newest and next best; Electro-friends, handheld computers, mind chips, and Moodtracks. Moodtracks are sensors you place on your chest to monitor your heart, and two on your temples to monitor the rest. They choose music to fit your mood by your emotions, thoughts, and heart rate. My parents keep me on top of all the newest trends. They come in the door, hug me, and hand me some new toy, as if their love is expressed through gifts. My mother’s favorite gift is something I can use to connect with her. I like to say my mom and my relationship is electronic.
I know she loves me, but she is just still so in love with my father. Their love is stronger than anything I have ever seen. I doubt my mother likes working. She never used to work; she would stay home to take care of me. My mom got me fed and off to school, cleaned the house herself, then cooked dinner for us as a family. Now she knows I am old enough to do things on my own, leaving more time for her and my father to travel together. Of course she still does her motherly duty; checking in with me, making sure I’m being watched after.
They leave me to be watched after by our house mother. She is only software installed to live in the walls of our house. She doesn’t have any actual control over me other than locking me in or waking me up. They program her to lock the doors and not allow me access to go outside after I’m home in the afternoons, or my time slumped in front of the vidscreen is cut short. The worst of all the things she has control over is my electronics. She can shut down, or filter the people I twit with on my communication system, my SIM. Although when she does shut it down, the only people it really matters is that now my parents have to go through her. Also my music is controlled, the time spent playing or the volume. She is the brains of our house. None of us have to remember anything because she tells us all our appointments and daily plans, and makes notes of new ones. Our grocery list is always being updated and our house twits are filtered.
When my parents are home the only thing our house mother does is keep track of our things and schedules. After the first time they left me under her control, as you can believe, being controlled by and electrical voice coming from my walls started to drive me crazy. I already had little control over what I did on a daily bases because of the restrictions. Government restriction held me back, but stronger than that was the restrictions I set in my mind; genetic or made up, I had a mental block to people. I can’t stand talking to or being around almost everyone. I would rather be alone where it is just my emotions. My drive to be free was stronger than my hatred of people. Thus I toughed it out and approached the group of kids known as TechHeads at my learning center, Sessions.
TechHeads are a group of boys and one girl who everyone knows are going to be the next generation of engineers for the favorite, new technologies. Not only would they know how to shut my house mother down but their emotions are much easier to shake off and almost ignore. Approaching them was the hardest part of shutting her down. It took about thirty minutes to write down the step by step details of the shut down process. After this they invited me to stay and eat lunch with them. Sitting through that first lunch wasn’t as miserable as I always imagined it would be. Horror stories always played through my head when I imagined lunch with kids my own age. We discussed my new SIM; something they obviously knew way more about. All emotions at the table stayed generally excited through lunch; making life easier on me for the first time. They helped me shut Mama, the house mother, down and provided me with a sense of normalcy. Once she is shut down I may leave whenever I please and come home at all hours of the day. I have the freedom to do almost anything I please.
***
Quiet mornings give me a lot of time to think. I think of reasons why things in my world work because they nothing is being explained. I think of reasons; why my parents don’t seem to care to be home with me, ways to get out or school for the day, to improve my looks, get rid of my talent, to be satisfied. When I’m home by myself in the mornings is some of the only times I get to have my brain and emotions all to my self.
While I shower my Smartdrobe goes through my clothes and puts together options. It usually chooses something close to what I would wear. All my clothes are pretty much the same color; black. Black makes me feel comfortable and safe, I’m not flashy just secure. In my modern art class we learn about our color wheel. We have primary colors, secondary colors, and neon colors. Neon is not for me, sunglasses are needed when walking through the Skymall of Session kids; it’s so bright. This may contribute to why I stick to one solid color. Looking in the mirror one more time I slip on my WW boots, shaking my head not quite satisfied.
WW stands for Walkway, and AS stands for Atmosphere Surfing. The ground is made up of two ways to travel. Walkways are actually made of a sustainable material you can walk on. WW shoes make it impossible for one to fall off of the walkway. You can run and jump but it will pull you not so gently back to the walkway, and it’s not always on your feet. The other way to go, which is much more popular with kids in their first section of Session, is Atmosphere Surfing. AS shoes are shoes with built in gravity boosters, so you bounce and glide around as you walk. Of course everyone has a pair of both, but with my parents keeping me on top of all the newest trends, I have a pair that switches back and forth on my command.
Walkways are much faster than Atmosphere Surfing. They are more direct and you are less likely to be rammed off your track. I stick to my WW shoes for the most part, so I have the ability to run straight out the door when I’m running late, like today. I hit the walkway sprinting and my feet immediately grow heavy forcing me into a slow speed walk. ‘For safety reasons’ they say, the walkways mediate your speed. If you refuse against the gravitational pull on your legs for long enough the ‘voice’ booms out at you telling you to slow down. I never fight against the pull not only because I’m not strong enough but because I would be mortified to have the mysterious voice yell at me in public.
The noise of the walkways booms at you from all directions. Shuttles rattle loudly over head, dangerously close to building tops. After the quiet hum of the house motor, the rumbling walkways wake me up quickly. The shuttles transporting elders to and from there professions make the paths below quiver and your legs vibrate. I have never known who runs the shuttles, is it a person or on autopilot. Everything just is. Things are clean, problems are fixed, everything works like perfect clockwork but you never see who is behind it. The government is a secret and so are the workers. The name of the one running Atmosphere is a mystery to me, along with everyone else and this frustrates me. I don’t like feeling lost or confused. It’s as if we are all missing out on the secret. I want to know the secret, I feel like no one else seems to care.
Even my slowed pace didn’t extend the time the walk to sessions takes. The walk is short; I arrive quickly. I am never enthusiastic about being bored with unneeded knowledge. Only on very good mornings am I on time to first block. All of my first block teachers have never liked me. I’m late, sloppy, and most of all ‘I ask too many questions.’ I used to pay attention, I desired the knowledge. I wanted to fill my head with everything they threw at me, but now I find it all useless. I would ask my teachers question after question trying to get every angle of the things I was learning. Now I can’t find my words or collect my thoughts even enough to care what is being said.
I go through days in a blur. I turn up my music so no one can affect my day. If my day is effected I would prefer it was on one of my own emotional experiences. Some blocks, I have really relaxed teachers that give us our workchips and let us do whatever we choose. The ones that aren’t as relaxed, no music—ever. They will walk around with readers; readers let teachers know what you’re reading, writing, viewing or listening to at all time while in their room. I know my routine for each class and it goes on day after day.
Lunch, one of the only breaks in my day I spend in my favorite spot my life span; at the Barista across the walkway. It sells my favorite thing in the world—coffee. It’s a special thing with an acquired taste. Some say it’s the drink that came with our world. I don’t understand where it came from but it’s too much of a pleasure to need explanation. No one would dare go against our ‘strong suggestions’ and leave the building. I on the other hand need my alone time and slight buzz to continue through my day. The people are buzzing and quiet. I write my day’s plans and adventures in my Micropad, and lunch passes quickly.
Walking through the passages between rooms is loud and confusing; my heart sputters and flutters so quickly. I walk as fast as possible in a beeline straight for the door to my Barista. But today I get my weekly talk—I could repeat the conversation almost exactly. Anni grabs my arm right after astronomy, mind you; astronomy is different from starz, which I have right before—both terribly pointless. I turn slowly to face her; feeding her impatient with me. Her impatient is mainly overpowered by her curiosity. The curiosity almost makes me smile every time I feel it. She notices my difference but doesn’t think I’m rude or weird. I’ve quickly adapted to her and can be almost normal around her. She and the three other TechHead boys ask me to meet them for lunch once a week. Anni says to keep me sane. They, along with everyone else, think I eat in the stationary rooms alone, no one thinks I would dare leave Sessions for coffee.
Anni asks if I will make it to therapy—as they call it—tomorrow. I say yes.
“Will you ever introduce me to your cyber heaven you slip off to each day?” She asks for the hundredth time.
“I need my secrets or you wouldn’t like me, remember that lovey.” I reply each time she asks.
“Humph.” She sighs, knowing all to well I will walk away if she pushes for more information.
“Well I hope your brainwaves are swifting properly tomorrow we have a new idea to offer your guidance on!”
“You know I will do my best,” I say smirking, “just try to get everyone to remain calm or my emotions get twisted.”
At this she raises her eyebrows, rollers her eyes and turns to walk away with her head slightly shaking back and forth in a questioning way.
As soon as she walks away I dart as quickly as possible through the crowded passages. Kids look at me like I am crazy, going to the opposite side of the school—farthest from the cafeteria. Black coffee is all I drink; only in select moods do I get something sweetened. I get by just fine on a mainly liquid diet. I slip into my usual seat in the corner by this thing called a (plant). Its green, a royal, bright green. It’s a rough color instead of neon. It had a think brown very stiff looking straight body with a rough textured brown outside and pulled and rounded triangles that are green. The green things are placed very unevenly around the main brown body. The brown comes out in matching but skinnier parts. The green part looks like they have veins; just like the blue veins in my arm.
I once had all the technical words explained to me. Green is called a left, no, that doesn’t seem exactly right... hmm but it will have to do, and the shaft is called a stem. Not often do I pay full attention because it’s hard to concentrate. It is the only one I have ever seen. No other building has one. I wanted to find one to put in my room but no matter where I search I can’t find one, they aren’t even in the System. I watch it everyday under its warming lamps. Sometimes it gets these pink shade lefts, I don’t understand how they come but they are thin, feminine versions of the lefts. I write my goals, thoughts and feelings in my Micropad. I never expect to read them again but if someday I find out the secrets of this lifetime it would be a great documentation of my knowledgeable adventures. Maybe someday this (plants) progress and fails will show me something about all of this unknown.
Everyday the same elders come in and order the same things. If I sit far enough away by my plant, I can push off the emotions and play games. My favorite one, a woman comes in at the same time everyday, walks passed the randoms and straight to the counter, touches her card and grabs her already prepared drink. If she is happy or excited she wears neon socks which you can see only when she sits close to the door and reads her ‘DailyLife” blog. She folds one leg over the other, slips her hand in the pit of her knee, and uses the other hand to scroll the new entries. On sad days or boring days it’s black or blue, and when she is nervous she wears white socks. Another man with long hair—one of the only ones I’ve seen—on a day with positive emotions his hair is down, with neutral emotions its half up, half down, and on negative emotions days his hair is pulled in a tight slick ponytail. Sometimes new people come in; I try and guess their moods or the drink they are going to get.
I sit like this everyday, except for the once a week lunch with the TechHeads. This time, for me, is peaceful and calming. It slips by so fast and before I know it I have to run back to Sessions to get to block on time. As I leave I take a deep breath of coffee aroma. I hold my breath as I open the door and the stale smell hits my nose like a punch. It smells the same everyday; as if the air doesn’t move. I don’t know what would move it, but I want to run and flap my arms. Turn myself into a human fan and stir the smells together. I want to make a new smell, some kind of change. The light changes but not the color. The sun moves around but the sky is always grey—it never has a color besides the suns dull yellow.
Walking back to sessions, the air feels thick. It feels as if the ground has water coming out of it. It sticks to your legs and makes my hair lose its perfect shape and straight, jagged ends. To my luck, my block is right by the court yard. I walk passed everyone, overblown with emotions. No one feels like I do, no one feels lost, confused or lonely. I never can find a reason why they are so satisfied with the constant routine. The routine is comfortable; it’s safe. If nothing changes you have nothing to fear. Something about me is different—I fear no change. I am scared of nothing ever changing or nothing new. My lesson in block today is reviewing all the mathematics we have learned this trimester. Music in my ear—class passes fast.
The day passes in a blur and before I know it I’m home in bed. I nap with my alarm on; when it goes off I wake and make myself dinner. I leave my music on; following me from room to room as I walk through the house. If my mother was home she would be disappointed in the way I waste my time. She always wants me doing something. I sleep, eat, and sleep again. I’ve gone out and explored; sometimes I search for my (PLANT) or a coffee machine. Either no one knows what they are or they have no idea where to get one. Thus leaving me only a select amount of options, sleep or eating; homework, on a good night.
Good night or not, I’ve put off my homework long enough. The work load for the night consists of coming up with a name for my ‘personal star’ for astronomy and a few chips of arithmetic and the art of language; my favorite class. A personal star? Is she kidding? As I pull out my chip on ‘How to find a Perfect Star Name’ I can’t help but laugh. In my opinion, when you own something you hold it and take care of it. You at least know what it looks like and know it is yours.
“Hello” I say into my phone when mom calls interrupting my studies, “when are you coming home?”
“Hi sweetie, two days then we will all do something as a family, I promise this time.” My mother says to me.
Of course I hear this about every time she calls me. She promises a lot of things that never get followed through with. I know she loves me and that’s good enough for me.
“Okay, what’s the plan this time? Can we cook our own dinner?” I ask.
“Sure, you find out what you want to make and we will go pick up all the stuff!”
“Mom. Mom?” The other end is suddenly filled with a lot of talking some my father and a mix of other voices I don’t recognize. She is no longer listening.
“Well bye mom, see you later.” I hang up before she replies.
After all my work is done, lying in bed, my mind ponders. My imagination is like nothing anyone could ever even imagine. Full scenarios play through my head like a movie—my goals, and wants. Sometimes it’s like nightmares when I’m not even sleeping. They are uncontrollable, and I can’t stop them myself, only someone catching my attention. Some are romantic and some are scary. They are vivid images and scenes in my head, as if pure memories of things that haven’t happened.
I’m floating through open space of a weird dark blue color; just a few shades more blue then everything turns just before I crawl into bed. I have my arms straight out from my shoulders and I’m swooping in and out of cold wisps of air that make everything change colors. I feel as if the night is mad, kind of like it has tension. The tension in the air around me feels like it’s about to just let go. Kind of like a rubber band that has been stretched to is brink and in seconds is going to snap back at you, or the second before you hear what you just dropped shatter, you know its coming your just not sure when. It makes me focus my stress and worries somewhere else, as if someone else is having more problems than you. It relaxes me. The floating is slow and peaceful, and the color, tension and movement of everything around me keep me entertained. I just wait for something to happen.
Small dots fill my vision in seconds. Before I even know I was asleep I sit up sweating in alarm. The dots flying at me or by me, I’m not sure which, startle me. I have had this dream before and it cuts out at the same time each time I have it. I never get to know what is happening next; is it dangerous or good? I sit back down onto my pillow and take in deep breathes of recycled air. Nothing in my air is like the feeling of the air in my dreams. The air in my dreams is fresh, almost more real in a way. Looking over, I click on my wall clock to check the time. It’s about four, meaning I have about two more hours I could sleep before waking for school. I know after my startled wakening I will have a hard time falling back to sleep and it’s rarely worth the trouble of trying.
Slipping my feet out from under the blankets and onto the floor I search for my slippers. Pink and fuzzy; my slippers are my favorite possession second to my gigs after gigs of reading material. Stories of worlds that don’t exist fill my hard drive. Once I start a story it’s like I have entered a different world and if you bring me back from my new, different and exciting world I get upset. My life doesn’t change, my routine never changes, but my stories do. Every time I read a story it will look different in my head, the images I create change and morph to how I like them as the words flow.
I sit in my favorite chair in the corner of my sitting room. The chair is plush and soft, and just big enough I can curl up on it. I pull my Micropad out from under my arm as I sit and wiggle myself into a comfortable position.
2/2/2054
Subject: Day 6,048
Woke up, running late, the usual for myself. Coffee like usual today. And the once weekly TechHead lunch tomorrow. They have a new idea for me. I never even try to guess anymore, it’s always something new and unpredictable. I look at them enviously, they are so content with what they are doing in life. I would rather enjoy my everyday struggle than get momentary satisfaction. I need to just suck it up and deal with what I have. One of these days I need to just go against all rules and find something exciting and new. There has to be something I haven’t seen. A new animal maybe, a different port might have something. Some of the portals aren’t that far and I could be back before my parents the next day. If it takes a few days I will wait until my parents leave again. Which knowing them lately they will only be back for a short time. At least they are happy together and they are satisfied with their amount of money coming back home to support me.
Last night in my dreams, I had dreamt about a boy who rewired his Pad so that it could jump what he was writing onto the person of his choices Pad. He was somewhere in my class and I wasn’t sure who. Each boy was on their Pad and so it made it nearly impossible to figure out who it is. I keep asking him questions about himself, and he keeps ignoring, so I look around the class after I send my message back. I watch for any change of expression or for someone to be looking at me. Finally after a few more messages I look up and catch a boy I’ve never seen before wink at me before ducking back behind the head in front of him.
Just as he ducks back I wake up to the muffled beeping. I wake up feeling giddy, so after this dream I spent the entire day searching the faces for the face of the boy, I can still see his face so clear. Something about him caught my eye. Obviously something about him caught my attention, because the dream continues to return to my dreams night after night. It’s not always consistent and the others in the class change little by little.
Not all dreams stick with me. It’s like my memory can’t hold them all from one night. I know I have them, they leave a lingering impression on, but I just cant stretch my memory far enough to grasp what they were about. I usually only remember the last one before I wake up in the morning, but this also depends on how often I wake up. Some nights it feels like I’m tossing constantly and sometimes it’s only once that’s bold and usually keeps me up for a while. It hits me like someone screams my name. It catches my attention fast. Sometimes I feel like I’m falling and when I’m about to hit the ground I twitch myself awake; breathing hard and sweating. Other times I wake up feeling as if something and terrible just happened; like you would if you found out someone died or a friends is severely hurt. I never know what it is but I can feel it in my chest—the constant almost pressure of something terrible and I never know what it is.
Dreams are my worst enemy and my best friend; they are so colorful and vivid. They entertain my sleep. They are not always good, but even when they are bad they consume many hours of wasted thought. I have always felt like I should write a book about them; document them all down and spice them up. I know they wouldn’t be exciting or entertaining to anyone else because you can never get the same wording or color expressed.
Sometimes I feel so lost and im frustrated because I can’t ask for more. I am spoiled rotten by my parents, they love each other and I know they love me even if they aren’t home often but I can’t seem to shake this feeling that something isn’t quite right. Not even that something is missing just that one thing needs to be slightly changed or altered. I know that this change must occur in my mental state and I’m not sure how it needs to be done, or what it is that needs changing. I can stop my words and how everyone else sees me can change but I can never change what goes on in my head. I can’t control my thoughts but I can control my actions. To everyone else I may seem like a completely different person than who I am inside my own head.
If someone, or anyone, ever saw the inside of some ones head, or the thoughts that pass daily I think we would all look at the world different. Either in a good way or a bad way it would be flipped upside down. No one will understand my thoughts; that’s why I write them out, and if anyone ever read
As I’m just finishing my thought I hear a beep that sends a shiver down my spine. I whip my head around thinking that someone is watching me. The room is still and nothing has moved. No natural light comes in my curtains, no natural lively laughs are heard; just the echo of my movements against the empty walls, and the slight buzz of everything running. Again the beep chimes and brings me back to the present time. I look down to see the battery icon on the top of my Pad blinking, I have been using it all day and its much passed the time I would have usually plugged it in.
Walking slowly back to my room—leaving the emptiness of the house to follow me. Pictures of me when I was little with my parents or family members line the halls. If you sit and watch long enough they will change to a different year. I have spent many lonely days watching the pictures change. The days when my parents are gone for long periods at a time I find ways to fill my time. My small feet make soft noises, like the sound of a kitten walking through a tunnel, the noise echo’s back at me from all directions.
Crawling into my cold sheets I can feel the fabric soften as my body slowly warms it. I curl my legs up and tuck one foots toes under the calf of my other leg. Leaning back, I touch the wall with one quick finger, as if I was wiping it. A bright screen pops up immediately and I first go to the volume and turn in to as low as it will go without being off. Next I open my DJ and pick my usual sleeping playlist: techno, some Band of Horses, and Grieves. The music that makes me sleep the best, and for anyone else, they would say it doesn’t go.
I lay there and watch the screen slowly dim out to nothing and let the music fill my head—trying to drown out the wondering thoughts, and endless conversations that will never be had.

Chapter 2
Sweat runs in cold shivers down my back. I’m sitting up, shaking, unsure of what’s going on. I slide my finger and my clock pops up in the corner of the wall, the green glow makes it hard for my eyes to adjust. It’s three in the morning. I shuffle through all the imagines floating through my head; searching for anything that will lead me to why these dreams continue to occur. The mysterious boy, the lingering touch, the feeling of emptiness as I endlessly search and lose him—he slips just out of my reach.
Lying in bed I drift in and out of sleep, continually looking at the clock. Sometimes the time crawls on, and others it’s flying. Before I know it Mama is calling my name and session’s is waiting for me. Dragging my body out of bed; I can feel the blood rush from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. I stayed cramped in a ball all night; I’m not sure why I do it, maybe because I feel safe.
I can’t leave the house without my coffee. It keeps me going until lunch, I can feel the caffeine rush through my veins before I even get to school, which may be good because as I walk through the empty halls I know what is coming for me. I slowly move myself in front of the reader, wishing the door could be quieter as I try and sneak myself in.
“Spencer, I don’t see how you’re always late to my class.” She says, catching me slink through door. “You slow everything down, the stars don’t wait for us, we have no time to lose. Take your seat I would like to show everyone what is happening to your stars you picked out.” Ms. Strut my Astronomy teacher says to me. She always speaks in chopped short sentences that run together in a slur. The angrier with me she is, the harder she is to understand.
Without a word I slide into my seat in the back of the room closest to the door, farthest from Ms. Strut. Everyone’s emotions fly at me so fast it makes me sick. Boys are usually they easiest to shake off, they are not so dramatic. A girl, on the other hand, makes everything a huge deal and gets extremely worked up, doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, it’s overpowering. The girl in the corner is about in tears with sadness, the boy next to me is usually just extremely bored. I am so thankful I can’t read minds—that would drive me over the edge. When I slide in my headphones and turn up my music it helps drowned it all out.
Before I know it Ms. Strut is charging down on me, I don’t have time to pause the beat flowing through my ears. I see her mouth move and can tell her annoyance before I even take out my head phones.
“I have been calling your name, why don’t you ever listen? You never pay attention, and that awful music you listen to is not acceptable for class. The stars aren’t waiting, they are moving and dying and we,” she gestures around to the class of half laughing kids, “are missing it, all because of you!” she screeches at me.
“Well then leave me alone, get back to watching the things you love die.” I spit back.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re excused.” I say with a smirk.
“Pardon me? No, you are excused, leave my room this instant. I will be notifying you parents. Stay off of this property for the duration of the day.”
“My pleasure.” I say as kid’s laughter can no longer be contained.
Striding down the now empty walkway, I notice a new bright orange hover block. Blockades appear randomly, with no sign of human involvement. Walking past I am so tempted to step over the simple orange floating block only a foot or so from the walkway and see why the ground there is now inaccessible to everyone. I do not see why no one tries, or if it is only me who thinks this way. No one on Atmosphere does anything they are not supposed to. Because they are scared of our government, or because they lack a sense of adventure, I’m not sure. I, on the other hand, am in a constant state of desire for the unknown and unexplainable. My mind ponders this aimlessly as I walk with no direction in mind.
Not knowing where I have been walking I look up to see, I have walked much passed my neighborhood itself. I look around now, wondering what caught my attention, something must have or I wouldn’t have stopped my feet which I feel tend to walk in sync with my thoughts. Straight in front of me is a huge building hovering unusually low to the ground. The structure must be one of the oldest buildings Atmosphere has. Its metal sides have lost their shine, and the windows are plain glass, with no sign of smart chip to filter in light. The dull orange blockade also looks old, as if it had been there for years. This strikes me as extremely unusual. Anything that has a block is only inaccessible for a day or two, a week at most. My need for the knowledge of what is just beyond me is almost too much.
I stand staring for only a second more before I whip my head from side to side, clearing that no one is watching. I step off the walkway and over the block in two, quick, silent steps. Now on the other side I wait, for a voice to boom down on me from above, or something to strike me dead. I look around, nothing is happening. Slowly I get my nerve back just enough to move one shaking foot in front of the other. The building is growing taller and wider as I get near. Unsure of what I’m going to do now, my mind is clear of all thought. I can now feel the excitement and a strange sense of freedom floods my body. A feeling of rebellion pushes me forward towards the door. Quicker than before, my feet, now almost steady, step silently one in front of the other.
As if I wasn’t controlling my body I step into view of the reader, nothing happens. A building without a reader? I question to myself. I just now realized there is a door knob on this door. Only really, really old buildings, only the original buildings, have door knobs. I reach out my hand, turn the knob and push ever so softly on the door, to my surprise it swings open. A gust of cold air that smells strongly of metal and dust blows past my face. The door is open; I can’t turn back now. I step cautiously inside, blinking furiously to regain my sight.
Blue and red lights scatter the floor. I walk cautiously, avoiding things on the floor, until I’m in the middle of the room. I bend to grab a light and realize they are instruction chips. Red for instructions: how to use, blue for directions: how to build. Most seem to be about a gravity shaft, “The Proper Way to Focus Ones Energy” the one in my hand said. Gravity shafts were one of the only things I had never thought to question. Now as I stand, staring around the lab they must have been invented in, I realize making gravity to move you from floor to floor is much more mind boggling than I expected.
I read bits and pieces off the chips; focused energy causes forced gravity, sensors in the shaft sense direction choice and move gravity that way, sensors pick up on a sense of urgency or a state of relaxation, and base your speed on it. All of the chips explained different parts. I remember my mom explaining how to focus to get it to move, but I never had asked for an explanation on the mechanics of it. I question aloud if she even knows. The sound of my own voice in the empty building echo’s back at me, startling me.
Realizing I never saw the gravity shaft, I pick myself up off the floor. Being so engrossed in the new knowledge I must have sat down. How long had I been reading these? Obviously much time had passed because as I stood and turned to look for the shaft I tripped over a pile that had formed of chips I had read. For once in my life I feel satisfied know how something in my world works. It’s the first time something has been explained and laid out in detail. I hate the secrets Atmosphere has and no one questions.
A small hint of a rainbow shimmer catches my eye, drawing my attention from my feeling of satisfaction. The rainbows cast from gravity shafts always pleased me, they were always changing. My feet tingled from sitting so long as I walked over to explore the shaft. It was as if I had never seen one before because now I had things I was looking for, things I knew about it to pick out. Looking at it from every angle I didn’t see anything unusual, the walls of rainbow didn’t seem to hide any disguised sensors, lasers or cameras.
Looking down, I see what looks like cotton balls. Some are a bit misshapen and some are a little greyer in color, they seem to be moving. Nothing on the base of a shaft has ever looked like this. The longer I look I start to see they look more like gas, or fumes. Kind of like when you are boiling water and the steam comes out in a huge gust; it looks like that only thicker.
My choice now is to see where the gravity shaft takes me, to experience all these mysterious things up close. It could take me anywhere and by looking at the base I don’t know if down sounds like a good idea. Up doesn’t seem like a possibility either though, because there is no cut out ring that would open to let me through. What if this is a trick, someone is waiting to watch me run straight into the ceiling and laugh; pop out and say they got me. My other choice is to go read more and learn about them, just to be safe. Maybe somewhere in this room there is something explaining where it leads, or what it’s for.
Just as a precaution, I can learn more first by reading, and then go explore to see for myself. I step out of the gravity shaft and head towards an all metal table with a whole new pile of chips. Sliding into the chair that is also metal, I have an overpowering feeling of indecision, one to read more, go the safe way, or explore the unknown, and see new things I have no idea about. My decision is leaning much closer to exploring. I get told to read, study, be safe, don’t question, everyday all day. I have already broken the rules and I wouldn’t mind just looking at the interesting cotton ball like creatures moving on the shaft floor a little closer.
Slow down; be safe, I think to myself. I push through the stacks of chips in front of me. Impatiently, I search for something besides the instructions and directions. A journal maybe, notes, or a letter; anything that would explain where the shaft leads. So far I know that there is most likely nothing above to go up to, the building was too short anyways to have a second story. If I go down its unknown what is below, there is no possibility of another floor because I am on the main floor.
Nothing on the table is helpful to me at all. I turn to my left and see a wall of computer systems; like a Sim but for a whole wall, it has more memory and is much better for multitasking. Without a password I couldn’t access anything on it, and it would be much too much of a risk of getting caught because someone somewhere would see I was in this building. Turing to my right I see nothing, until just too far for my head to turn something catches my eye. I turn just a little too far and I, along with the chair go tumbling to the ground.
The noise of the metal on metal clangs loudly and sends vibrating echo’s through the room. My body goes stiff with fright. Anyone walking passed would have heard that, anyone could rush in at any moment and discover me. I stay on the floor; hands and feet bracing myself. Bracing for what? I’m unsure—a person, a voice?
I don’t stay crouched for long. The numbness in my mind starts to fade in my growing panic. I can’t leave not knowing what the shaft is for but it’s too risky to come back again to find out. I dart for the funny looking cabinet and pull open the first drawer with a quiet squeak. The drawer is empty except for a few folders that have nothing in them. I slam it back shut and reach for the next; also empty. With only a sliver of hope left I pull the last drawer open to find one single folder.
Frustrated, I throw empty folder on the floor. I straighten up and turn to leave, but as I do something catches the light and casts a slim line of light on the wall—only momentarily. I whip back around to see what it is; a weird shaped dark, almost brown piece of metal. The metal is round on one side with a hole in the center, and long and jagged on the other.
I pick it up and inspect it further. I have heard of these they have something to do with the old fashion doors. Carrying it I walk over to the door where I see a smaller straight knob. I slowly turn it then wait for something to happen. When nothing does I am so discouraged from let down after let down that I place the key in my pocket, turn the knob, and prepare to go back to my normal life.
The knob wont turn, I shake it and pull it; nothing. Panic nearly stops my heart, and my over active imagination is racing to crazy conclusions. They must have control over the door and have sealed the door so I can’t leave. I pull on the door harder with hoping for any sign of an escape. What will they do to me I wonder and I pull so hard on the door knob my knuckles are turning white. Giving up I slam my hand into the door about to break into tears, but right as my fist hits the littler knob moves the slightest bit.
I had forgotten completely about turning the smaller knob, I turn it back and try the door again. I pull the door much too hard expecting the door to stay in place, but when it doesn’t I fly backwards onto the floor. Seeing the door open my heart beat slows and I regain my logic. I test the smaller knob again now with the door open to see if it locks the door in place; it doesn’t so I decide I have had enough excitement for one day. I stick my head slowly out of the door frame looking left then right to see if someone is around. I can see no one so I quickly but quietly shut the door behind me then run full speed down the short walk, jump over the barrier, and race as fast as the walkway will let me back to my house—the whole time wishing I had wore my shoes that could switch to AS.