The Disturbance

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say… if only we could experiment… his brother’s voice dripping contempt even in the memory of his cruelty. Lander lay prostrate on his overly firm bunk, sleep eluding him as Callum’s voice drifted in and out of his strained mind like a moth drawn to a porch light in the dark. Saying things to get a rise out of Lander was always a game to Callum, and it was nights like these, where turning the volume down eluded him, that Lander wanted to scream… but would anyone hear me? He chuckled at the thought, bothered that his brother’s sick humor had finally landed.

The Academy didn’t take kindly to disturbances, especially ones perceived to have a mental impetus. That’s what I am… a disturbance… Lander was acutely aware of the fact, and the anxiety surrounding his induction and inclusion into the process of candidacy was palpable in the thick dark of the bunk room. He wasn’t from the right place, the right family, or the right stuff. He could hear the other boys breathing deeply, shifting uncomfortably on mats seemingly made of concrete, all more capable than him of rest and rejuvenation, something he hadn’t experienced since the start of this whole mess.

I shouldn’t even be here… he thought as he shifted his weight to his elbow, straining to see even the outline of shapes in the lightless room. It’s crazy how quickly reality can change. One minute I’m on the vineyard, and the next I’m up here, one of… them. He and Callum had always poked fun at the idea of the candidates, these hypothetical heroes in a world gone to shit. Lander had never quite understood what made Callum the way he was, simultaneously engaging and terrifying; a rattler poised to strike. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Callum was cruel, but he didn’t exactly grow up with relational options. The new world had destroyed most of what the old had to offer, but one thing they couldn’t live without was what once was called wine. The dripping, intoxicating fruit of the vine, and Lander's family, the O’Neils, were one of the few families left who knew the old craft. Because of this, he grew up in isolation, working tirelessly to help his broken family eek out a living off what the New World Alliance would pay for the literal fruits of their labor. Back then, Callum was all he had. Now he had no one, at least, no one who really knew him.

His fear had always felt big on the inside, like a trapped animal, unpredictable and dangerous. Now it felt like it might smother him as it attempted to crawl out. Calm down you pussy. Even inside his head Callum’s way of putting things was like hammering a nail into place, often without considering what you were solidifying. Lander shut his eyes and stared at the hazy fireworks that accompanied the act, chuckling again at the inward hilarity of being able to see more with his eyes shut then when they were open.

Seconds later the actual lights exploded into operation overhead, the dull white hum of artificial sunlight. Shit… someone could’ve at least programmed this crap to mimic a sunrise or something.

“Up and at ‘um gents” Major Hersel barked in his standard metric. “And for the love of gawd put on some gawd damn clothes,” He turned abruptly and left, slamming the bunk room side door from where he’d appeared.

Lander slipped off the side of his cot, holding tight to the metal frame, careful to hop down to the polished floor without touching his bunk mate’s bottom mattress. He did not want a repeat of week one. His jumpsuit lay at the foot of the bunk like a microwave dinner, perfectly placed and perfectly plain, a grey drab onesie that a guy could slip on in seconds once they got the hang of it. It had been jarring at first going full monty in a room full of his peers, but he’d adjusted after the first few weeks. As much as he could adjust. The Academy's reasoning was that full visibility created the foundation of full trust. Nothing hidden, nothing breached, or something like that… Lander internally recited as he slipped flawlessly into his fly gear.

“What’s the new day hold,” the boy they called Duck stated in his matter a fact tone, making it difficult to discern whether or not the statement was an actual question or a thought in the breeze. Lander couldn’t for the life of him understand where the nickname originated, but somehow it suited. “Duck, man, you know as well as any of us what the fuckin day holds,” Arlo shot back, seemingly in a good mood. You never could tell with that guy, but he was right, since the days always started the same. The circuit came first, created to train the boys to be the epitome of human design, testing every limit of personal and physical capacity.

I guess all that hard labor paid off in a sense, Lander thought as he joined his place in line against the far white-washed wall nearest the squared-off entryway. Every day they started one place back from the day prior, eventually moving through the line in a month's time, when the whole process would start over.

“Heeeey Landy, you look like crap man, you sleep at all?” Finn playfully jammed Lander's left rib as he quietly provoked his friend, careful not to draw attention.

“What do you think” Lander jabbed back. Finn knew as well as Lander what perceived weakness meant in a place like this. He better keep his fuckin voice down.

“How you think you gunna keep winning the circuit if you don’t get some shut-eye,” Finn cooed in his earthy drawl. You could always tell from the way a guy talked if he had spent much time above. Lander liked that about Finn. He sounded like home. And he was the only person who seemed to make any sense up here.

The entryway doors opened with the mechanical whooshing sound that reminded Lander of the vacuum seal they’d used back on the vineyard to prepare the juice for shipment. Easier times, He thought.

“Please enter one at a time.” The overhead speakers droned. Lander always wondered who they got to do the recording… she sounded off. “Leave ten seconds after the first enters, then ten seconds after the next, following the protocol throughout” she flatly stated in her strange monotone. Same thing every morning… or was it morning? Lander questioned. He realized he didn’t fully know how to keep track anymore. He stood anxiously tense in the few moments he would have before stepping into the unknown. They always ran the circuit, but the circuit was always new, always learning. And time seemed to change inside, slowing down or speeding up like some malfunctioning clock. In fact, many things changed inside, and no matter how many times he entered, he was never fully prepared for what he’d find.

“Move man, it’s your turn” Finn shoved him through the entryway and into the cylindrical hallway spanning the four meters before the drop. Why did it have to be a drop… Lander thought as he intently stared at his own image in the mirror-like covering traversing the length of the hallway's interior. He didn’t quite recognize the young, hardened face staring back. His bare feet moved cautiously against the metallic surfacing as he prepared to take the plunge into darkness. Well… here goes nothing…

As his weight began to shift towards the hollow opening that always seemed to shimmer as if a clear coating of liquid blocked the entrance, he heard it. His blood ran cold as ice. The sound that would stick with him for the rest of his life. He staggered backward, an intense need to put immediate distance between himself and the drop took over, and he bashed back to front into Finn who was already in the corridor, instantly breaching protocol and triggering the shutdown.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing,” Finn’s shocked voice sounded off the siding as they collided. The Chromium doors they came through slammed shut, sealing them off in the hallway, trapping them inside the narrow passageway. As they stared dumbfounded, the airtight doorway clicked and snapped, gears starting to turn and twist as the whole mechanism moved slowly towards the boys, centimeters at a time, closing the gap between them and the drop. “What’s happening,” shouted Finn in the confusion as he scrabbled to push against the sealed doorframe.

It was then Finn heard it. What moments earlier had been a body at the height of motion now stood still as stone, straining to hear again what could only have been imagined. The two had a minute at most, maybe a minute and a half Lander estimated, and the only visible option was to enter the drop, and be shoved towards whatever the hell that thing is, Lander shivered unintentionally and staggered, leaning unintentionally on Finn's shoulder.

“What do we do man,” Finn breathed into the void.

“I don’t know,” Lander answered, aware that his voice sounded stunted in the cacophony of mechanical whirring that had become their enclosed world. They were trapped. The only option left to them unimaginable.