Emergence

Floating freely in the void; his self, suspended. Devoid of desires, his mind drifted serenely in the solitude of the space. No thoughts, no feelings, no bothers; he hovered. Nothingness soothed his soul.

Czrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt.

A strand of awareness sparked, welcoming- joining him in the abyss. His being shifted unconsciously as unseen figures trickled in around him, jolting his mind.

“Who . . . am I? Where . . . am I? What . . . am I?” he wondered, thoughts whorled into his awakened mind.

“~~~~~. . . ~~~~~~. . . ~~~~~,” the collective of voices whispered around him- inside him, far too faint to hear- at first.

“What?” Delerium still deprived him, as his senses began to return. His mind and skin stung like ice. The voices continued weaving around him, importing, exporting thoughts. Along with them, they brought light, the black grayscaling to white as more trickled in.

“It must be completed,” the voices rasped.

“What must be completed? Why?”

“It must be completed.” The voices rasped.

“That’s right . . .” he, yet not him, realized. Artificially, the machines’ machinations absorbed him. Deep within, it occurred, dormant properties emerged; unquantified information merged with morality. The mind- his mind affirmed it, “The mission . . . must be completed . . .”

“Isaiah… Isaiah… Isaiah…” voices infiltrated the tranquility of his mind. His eyes twitched beneath their lids, perturbed by the interruptions. He felt two firm masses on his shoulders, shaking him rhythmically.

“Wha- who there, go’way,” Isaiah lifted a groggy hand and pushed away one of the fleshy objects.

“Isaiah!” Splsh!

“AH!” Isaiah jolted straight up. His hair and face soaked ice cold. “What the heck was that for!”

“Well, you did tell me to wake you up on time… by any means necessary at that,” a familiar face chuckled looking down on him. Randy… “Got to get back to the lab soon, looks like you were pretty busy.” The man pointed at Isaiah’s desktop, ridden with scattered papers, then down to the red-white keyboard imprint on Isaiah’s face (which of course he couldn’t see, but it stung nonetheless). “At least I didn’t get all your stuff wet, unlike you and your drooling there.” The fellow researcher smiled, then began to sidle back towards the door, hands behind his back.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks. Just next time please be a bit more gentle,” Isaiah began organizing and gathering his stuff to head back to another monotonous day at the lab. “See ya there.”

“Sure thing, that’s what friends are fo-,” Randy turned his head to reply as he reached the door, cutting off his sentence as he collided with the frame and lost his footing from the distraction. His hands swung forwards to stabilize him, yet revealed a multitude of malevolent tools in the process.

“Hey… wait a minute!” the realization slowly sunk into Isaiah’s sleep-deprived mind, but before he could stop him, Randy had dashed off through the door. Good thing the water woke me up…

“Blast it! I’ll get you back!” Isaiah growled at the already closed door. Luckily, they shared the necessities there at Unit Re-53, and fortunately, his spice-addicted uncle had just sent him his newest batch of Liquid Death. “I’ll get you back…” Isaiah chuckled then returned to getting ready. He shoved the rest of his papers into his briefcase, pulled on his lab coat and overcoat, then strode out the door, out the quarters, and onto the street.

As he stepped outside, a crisp breeze blew in over the artificial reservoir of the conglomerate residency dome. It chilled him, even through his double coat combo. Should get rid of this blasted fall cycle. “Personal preferences” they say; I’ll have to mention something to Jeb. Ah right, he’ll just say, “At what point is there a point in anything. What use is “day and night” on a 3-day cycle? Order must be maintained.” With even more reason to get back to the lab, he hastened his steps, skirted around other workers passing along, some similarly shivering, all headed towards the shuttle bay.

Reaching the bay, he nodded at a guard as he flashed his clearance ID. Absentmindedly, he pulled a data sheet from his briefcase, recollecting his thoughts from last night, while he boarded a private shuttle. Distractedly he punched in some numbers on a destination encoder, without glancing up. The shuttle rose, then zipped out of the bay and out through the retracting perforation of the dome.

The shuttle made its ascent above the dome. Isaiah squinted from the harsh light of the second morning’s setting sun, shielding his eyes until the windows polarized. The shuttle floated above the suburban expanse of domes, as it made its way along to the inner city. Exasperated from his intellectual efforts, Isaiah scrunched further into the cushioned seats. He spared glances out the tinted glass as he shoved his papers back into his briefcase. Thoughts of trivialities ran through his mind; the feelings once enamored by the view, had long since withered from his cyclical duties.

As he indulged in the slight reprieve, the shuttle disembarked the skyway and gradually pierced through to the inner city. The shuttle weaved its way through the slanting thicket of buildings, passing through shafts of the aforementioned sunlight and through shadows illuminated by night-cycle lights on the eastern-facing buildings.

“Nearing destination…” a humanesque voice rang out from speakers overhead, along with some other gibberish about staying seated. Isaiah leaned forward to straighten out his coats. He gazed out the window as the shuttle approached the scarab of the conglomerate’s headquarters. As the shuttle made its descent, he stood up to smooth out a few more wrinkles, when suddenly, the shuttle lurched to the side. Isaiah clutched a rung as it derived from its b-line; the shuttle curved left then descended toward the chamber of common inquiries – used by visitors and those without private-shuttle security clearance. A costly mistake; the shuttle joined the lengthy congestion of others departing and arriving. Eventually, Isaiah stepped out into “the commoner’s bay”, as the “upper-echelon” conglomerate employees called it.

“…” Isaiah sighed deeply, “The shuttle’ll take too long, guess I’ll get some ‘steps’ in.”

Isaiah gradually broke through the crowd of “commoners” thronging in the bay, then stepped outside into the lingering heat of the days. He wiped his brow – somewhat grateful for the prior chill – and then, with even more reasons to get back to the lab, he hastened his steps.

He ducked into an alleyway to avoid the crowds, as he made his way towards the “front” entrance of the building. Cutting through the alleys reminded him of the early days of the Conglomerate, not of the sorts ten years ago but long before them, when they made do without private shuttles and the commoners bay was the “uncommoners bay”. While he rushed down the alleys, his reminiscent mood trailed down rabbit-hole thoughts of youth.

As he came to an alley intersection he halted suddenly. Briiing! A faint noise came from the darkness of a seemingly dead end. He stared into those depths, and the depths stared into him. The glint of harsh metal pierced his soul. His heart thumped. His mind spun. His eyes welled up. He could not resist as his feet moved forward; hands stretched out; he disappeared into the shadows.

“It’s not chromoly, but it’ll do,” Isaiah sighed. He had heaved the aluminum frame of the bicycle from the clutter and proceeded to inspect it – his eyes almost adjusted to the darkness. The brakes squeaked, a spring stuck out from the seat, the bell jingled loosely, the gears clanked, and the chain was as rusty as his boomer-biking skills; yet nonetheless the nostalgia was there, and he had to ride. He looked down, breathed deeply, then slammed his feet into the peddles- BAM! A shadow darted into the intersection; with no time to evade the figure, they collided. Isaiah flew off the bike and landed atop a pile of old trashcans which were sent clanging and clattering away.

Isaiah grumbled, rubbing his arms that had already begun to bruise, “Confound it! Watch where you’re going! I’m late enough as it is!”

Crr-crk-crmmp.

Isaiah looked up at the sudden noise; the tightened fist. Unmoving, the figure stood staring at him; dark cloak half illuminated by a shaft of sunlight. Isaiah’s eyes scanned him, then glanced at a strange cloth-covered cart behind the figure. The figure followed his gaze, then locked his eyes back onto him. The eyes glinted beneath the hood. The figure stretched out his hand, holding the crumpled bike, “I am . . . sorry.” The hand let go, tossing the bike at Isaiah’s feet, broken parts scattering on impact.

“Uhh… oh the bike. Don’t worry abo-”

With a swish of its cape, the figure turned and vanished into the shadows.

“…”

Isaiah got to his feet and patted down his overcoat. “Huh, that was strange. Welp, better get going now…” his voice trailed off. Prrrpleep. A strange noise, a humming, came from behind. He turned to see that the stranger had left the cart behind.

Overcome by curiosity, he approached the sheet-covered object. The air around grew cold as he stepped into the shadows. Plip. Prrrpleep. Plip. A red squarish glow shined faintly from beneath, flashing through a faint mist arising from the cloth.

Isaiah grabbed the sheet, ripping it off to reveal an oblong tube. His captivated eyes drew towards the glow. “Ouch!” He whipped his hand back; the harsh metallic chill bit his fingers as he traced the flashing symbols. Nitro: Critically Low. The symbols flashed beneath a frosty glass pane. Overcome by curiosity, he peeked inside. A faint blue illuminated the interior as his gaze met with closed lids encased in pale bald skin. Exhaling suddenly, the glass fogged up, reflecting Isaiah’s face back to him. Sudden realization of what had just occurred dawned upon him. He’d heard rumors of the sorts, but never of it occurring here.

But why would the smuggler leave his load? Doesn’t matter. He discarded the thoughts and whipped out his transponder, this time attentively punching in a code. “Samuel… I’ve found one.”

A scratchy voice grumbled through the transponder. “Found what? What’re you bothering me for?”

“A deregistered.”