Page 3 of Taken
“Ghosts or corpses,” I say out loud as I reach an intersection. There are large circular doorways to my left and to my right marking the way to Bays Eleven and Ten. Through the large, rectangular windows, I can see more bodies sleeping within. And they aren’t sleeping peacefully, either. They look like they’re in pain. Not a lot, just a little bit, and that’s somehow worse. Like they’re living in Dante’s Hell. Not the ninth ring, but maybe the second? And out here in the Chamber is limbo. I move on.
The next two Bays look just like the last two, but Bay Seven. Bay Seven…I look through the window and then I look away and keep movingfast. How many preservation pods did Pam say had been engaged? Sixteen? There were at least that many bodies on the floor and, judging by the state of them, they died a long time ago. But I’m not going back to check. No way in hell. I’m not the Captain. I’m not the biologist. I’m not the mortician, if there even is one of those on board this ship.
I’m the artist.
Fuck my life. Why couldn’t I have studiedanythingelse?
Immediately after the entrances to Bay Six and the-Bay-that-shall-not-be-named, the hallway opens up to form a wide circular room. The opening to the left exposes a huge space that looks like a spaceship cafeteria. Clearly, the designers of the Chamber sawAlien,Aliens, andAlien Threeand decided that the ship design looked good. There is nothing original about this place. Maybe, it’s cleaner.
Too clean. Nobody’s been in here. I’m the only one who’s woken upalive. “It’s just me and Pam,” I whisper as I take a peek down the hallway that leads right. It’s a wide hallway, wider than the last, and blue-white lights illuminate the first doorway that I approach. It’s closed.
“Hello…Rhen…” I cringe when I hear Pam’s voice.
“Oh. Hi, Pam.”
“Hello…Rhen…welcome to the sleeping ward. Five hundred and ninety-two sleeping dormitories are available for your choosing. Only cell five hundred and ninety-three is occupied.”
“It’s occupied? Someone’s awake?”
“The Sucere participant’s pod malfunctioned, much like yours did…Rhen. He elected to self-terminate after six months awake in the Sucere Chamber. He left a message. Would you like me to play it?”
“No. No. Absolutely not.”
“Alright then…Rhen.”
“I’m not gonna go down there. I’m just gonna explore the kitchen.”
“Alright…Rhen.”
“Also, you don’t need to come with me, Pam. I like…appreciate your help, but maybe you could just give me space?” Panic. Anxiety. I need…PAINT!
“Certainly…Rhen…” A long pause. “Goodbye.”
I spend the rest of the day reviewing the safety manual, the first half of which describes all the ways I can survive while the second half describes the ways I can and should commit suicide if I wake up alone, rather than waste future humans’ resources. I shut the paper manual, but before I do, I tear out the pages on the surface—what topotentiallyexpect, given how much time has passed—and how to use the viewport, so that I might actually be able toseewhat the new world looks like.
The Sucere Chambers are buried deep underground, too deep for other humans to dig up, raid and scavenge. The viewport is only useable once the drill is activated. In another room behind the kitchens, the large space is dominated by a massive machine. Trapped underground, my only way to the surface is through this machine. If it doesn’t work, I’m fucked.
I follow the instructions, push and pull at levers on the clunky room-sized object, turning things on and off. I’m working for hours. I follow the instructions one by one and don’t stop until it’s done. Until the drill starts to churn, sounding like the angry stomping of wildebeests. Up and up the massive drill goes—shaped like the screw of some giant being, according to the manual’s schematics. It fights its way through the earth above, reaching up and up. And inside of the drill is a ladder.
Holy shit, I’m scared of that ladder. Letting the drill continue its work, I retreat to the cafeteria, which feels like the only room worth surviving in. I grab bedding from one of the dormitories. With their white walls and individual twin beds covered in white sheets, the dorms look more like solitary confinement cells in an insane asylum than anywhere I’d want to sleep. Hauling supplies back to the cafeteria, I make myself a makeshift bed against one of the walls. I find food—it’s all stuff that has to be rehydrated, but I honestly don’t care. I don’t remember what real food tastes like anyway. I sleep.
I try to sleep.
But I can’t.
What’s upstairs, on the surface?
It takes some time for the drill to finish. When it does, Pam lets me know. It takes me some more time to muster to confidence to approach the machine and open the door. It hisses as it swings open, revealing a small chamber big enough for one large person or two small people to crawl in. Against one wall of the spherical room is a ladder.
I step into the room in what might be the middle of the night or the middle of the day. There is no time within the Chamber. I’m calm as I grip the rungs and climb all the way to the top. No, no I’m not calm. I’m seconds away from pissing myself as I push my bald head up into the dark, dark, dark. Light starts to filter down from above, and when I finally get to the point that I can go no farther, I stop and take a breath.
There’s a wheel above me that I could turn and open and actually venture out into the new world…and there’s a viewpane covered in a manual sliding shield. Breathlessly, I take the handle and draw it back…
I don’t speak for a while. A long while. I just look and look and look, and when my eyes go blind from the harsh sunlight, I finally close the portal and exhale, “I need my paints.”
And then Pam’s voice echoes up the shaft behind me, “Certainly…Rhen…I can help you find them.”
ChapterThree
