Knowing the exact time of my death has had a strange effect. I’m aware of every breath I take, and while each brings me closer to the end, I stay calm, refusing to think of the outcome.
I glance to the closed door where Moses still works and hope he’s unaware of our approaching doom. If by some stroke of luck, I can prevent the destruction, I make a promise to get him to the surface.
‘You first.’ I turn to Reuben, standing by the entrance of the shaft.
Systems override complete. Sub-system isolation initiated.
Reuben holds out his hand. ‘I wonder what that means?’
Sub-system shutdown complete.
He looks up. ‘And that?’
I lift my foot to step over the rim but it misses the floor. My head spins. ‘What the…?’
Rebekah gasps and grabs my wrist. She tips forward as dead stalks and loose earth rise from the floor. She shoots out her other hand and clasps onto the door. ‘What’s happening?’
I catch hold of Reuben’s ankle as he floats towards the ceiling. ‘The wheel’s stopped. We’re not spinning.’ I heave, pulling myself and the others towards the opening. I duck inside the shaft and call back. ‘But if it thinks this will stop us, it’s wrong.’ Rebekah and Reuben follow. I wrap my feet around the rungs. ‘Better hold on. I wouldn’t put it passed that thing to start the wheel again, just to make us fall.’ I look up, then down through my feet. ‘Hang on. Which way?’
Reuben shrugs. ‘It’s down, we came up from…’ His mouth drops open as he rolls forward trying to get a grip on the ladder. ‘It looks the same both ways. Which way is down?’
‘That way.’ Rebekah points above my head. ‘You’ve both spun around. Look at the floor back in there, you’ll get your bearings.’ She pulls the door shut. ‘Don’t want that dirt getting into our eyes.’
Reuben takes a rung. ‘What does it mean by sub-system?’
I reach up and pull. My body skims effortlessly passed a dozen rungs, before I need to pull again. ‘Obviously, it must have something to do with the spinning of—’ I hold my breath.
Reuben calls up. ‘What is it?’
I dare to breathe. ‘If the other life support systems are involved… it might also mean the air is shut off.’
Rebekah groans. ‘How long before we can’t breathe?’
‘No idea, but that won’t be a problem if we crash first. But something—’ I clutch the edge of the ladder and come to a slow halt. ‘What’s that?’ I hold my breath and listen. ‘Is that the engines? Are we changing course already?’
Rebekah draws level. ‘It sounds like… crying.’
I tilt my head to listen again. ‘It can’t be. It’s too high.’
Reuben coasts passed. The sides of the tube glow. He calls back. ‘We’ll soon find out. We’re here.’ He glides across the gap and places his feet either side of the door. He grabs the handle, twists and hauls it open, releasing the wails from those inside. Reuben turns. ‘Dear Moses! Just when you think you’ve seen everything…’
I kick off from the ladder and follow Reuben, then turn and hold out my hand for Rebekah. We float into Education - it no longer resembles the ordered level we’d left.
Hundreds of slack wires crisscross the room, swaying as if caught in a breeze. Below, the youngsters’ tiny arms and legs wriggle above their restrained bodies as if waiting for Mother to pick them up.
I lock arms with Rebekah and we kick off from the wall. We reach the first squirming infant. Rebekah extends a finger and tickles its tight fist. Its hand springs open at the touch and grasps onto what could be the first human contact it’s ever known. She sighs. ‘Poor thing.’
Reuben calls back. ‘Yeah, but it’s using up a lot of air crying like that.’
She strokes its screwed-up face. ‘It must be confused by the blank screen and silent headset.’
‘Blank!’ I check the large screens at the center. ‘If they’re off we’re—’ It flickers.
Rebekah tugs my arm. ‘That’s got to be a good sign, hasn’t it?’
My throat hurts as I bellow above the distress. ‘It has to be.’ My progress slows and I start to see two Rebekah’s in front. ‘If we can reach it, but what if it’s part of the sub-system that thing mentioned?’ I stop and hang in the air. I wave my arms but can’t move.
‘Grab hold of the wires.’ Reuben has crossed the first two rows. ‘You can pull yourself through.’ I look at the toddler at the end of the wire Reuben has hold of – its arm stretched out as if waving back.
I grasp the nearest wire but it bites into my hand as I pull. My light head spins and I lose my grip, sending my body tumbling over. I grasp at more wires, causing three more toddlers to stiffly wave as I float passed. My stomach joins my spinning head. A hand clutches at the loose leg of my overall.
Rebekah yells. ‘Fix your eyes on Reuben. Look at nothing else.’
‘But I can’t see him.’
‘Behind you.’
‘What?’
‘I said behind you!’
‘Which way is behind?’ Rebekah rotates my body to face her. I blink and try to focus on her lips.
‘There, over there.’ Her hand waves in front of my eyes but I can’t work out which way she points. ‘Noah! What’s wrong?’
‘I can’t…’ her face blurs and begins to fade, ‘I can’t see, everything looks… wrong.’
‘Shut your eyes and take hold of my arm.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Here.’ Her hand guides mine and I take hold of the rough material of her overall. My head steadies a little. She cries out. ‘Hold on.’ I feel her yank on the wire and we glide forward. ‘Nearly there.’
I just make out Reuben’s words above the din. ‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘I think it’s all this floating about. He’s gone dizzy and can’t see straight.’
‘I hope he can think straight.’
I try to re-assure them. ‘I’ll be fine.’ But I’m not convinced. ‘I just need…’ I open my eyes but immediately feel worse, ‘need a few minutes to…’
Rebekah yells into my ear. ‘We don’t have a few minutes. What do we need to do?’
‘Fail-safe… need to switch…’ I open my eyes to see my feet float passed Rebekah’s face. I shut them and try to speak. ‘I have to…’ I see Namika, I hear her voice, ‘she said, I need to talk to…’
Another hand that must be Reuben’s, grabs my ankle. He yells to Rebekah. ‘What’s he saying?’
Rebekah shakes my shoulder. ‘You’re not making sense, Noah. What do we need to do?’
‘I… I can’t remember.’
She hisses in my ear. ‘We don’t have time. You need to think.’
‘I’m trying, but—’ I bump into what has to be the screen. I shoot out my hands to take hold of something solid, but find nothing.
Reuben pulls hard. ‘This way. Get hold of the edge of the screen with your left… this hand.’ Then to Rebekah. ‘We’ve got to stop him spinning. Perhaps then he can think.’
I feel her grip. ‘I’ll take this ankle and hold onto the frame, you take the other.’ She calls up. ‘Noah. We’re going to hold you by your ankles to stop you moving.’
‘I know, I heard.’ I keep my eyes shut tight as I’m spun around by urgent hands. I turn to Rebekah’s side. ‘How long do you think we have?’
‘Fifteen minutes? Maybe less?’ She takes my free hand and squeezes. ‘Keep your eyes shut until you feel steady.’ I do as I’m told and take a deep breath. ‘How you feeling? Any better?’
I turn towards the voice. ‘A little. Give me a minute.’
Reuben yells from below. ‘There’s not too many of those left.’
‘Shush, let him recover.’
My spinning head slows a little. But now I can think a little more clearly, I doubt if I really know what to do. I take another breath and risk opening my eyes. For a moment, I think I’m blind but realize I’m looking at a blank screen, with my blank face gawping back. Rebekah’s reflection joins mine. ‘Ready?’
I try to nod but I can’t persuade myself I am. I look at her face on the screen. ‘I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure that—’
Her eyes widen but her voice remains calm. ‘Think back to what Namika said. You mentioned fail-safe? Something about putting the original machine back in charge?’
My grip tightens on the edge of the screen. ‘I can remember her words, the problem is… how to do it.’
‘Think, Noah, think.’
‘I am, give me… time.’ I look to the shapes on the panel beneath the screen. Namika had waved her hand passed one of these to activate the one in her base. My hand shakes as I try to point.
Rebekah follows my direction. ‘They’re like the ones on the upper level.’
Reuben bobs at my other side. ‘Worth a try.’
I look at the symbols. ‘Which one?’
Reuben points ‘Try that one, all of them, something has to work.’
Rebekah touches the first on the pad. The screen bursts with a thousand exploding stars. Reuben jumps back, letting go of my leg. ‘Whoa! That’s a start.’ He grasps my collar and pulls himself back into position.
Lines streak across the screen, like a snowstorm on the surface. Rebekah’s hold on my ankles tightens. ‘Let’s hope we don’t see that mask.’ The snowstorm stops. I squint at the words appearing at the bottom next to my knees.
HOST LOST. SEARCHING…
The line of dots run to the end of the line before disappearing. Another line appears beneath.
HOST LOST. SEARCHING…
Once more, the dots begin their pointless journey to the end of the line. Rebekah peers around my leg. ‘Host? Does it mean Mother?’
I shrug. ‘Or the Reaper?’
‘I’ll press another button.’ She points. ‘That one! It looks like a funnel we used to use in the lab.’
I look to her and even now, in our last, desperate moments, I can’t help but waste valuable seconds watching her face. ‘Why that one?’
She looks up and smiles. ‘Why not? What harm can it do now? Things could hardly get any worse.’ I nod. She touches the funnel button.
The screen speaks: a woman’s voice but lower than Mother’s. ‘Host lost. Unable to re-establish link. Shutting down.’
‘No wait! Don’t.’
‘State your name.’
My fingers bite into the metal. ‘Noah! I’m Noah.’ My heart rises to my throat.
‘No identification chips detected. You are not an authorized crew member.’
Reuben yells at the screen. ‘But he’s a hero-worker, you must have heard of him.’
‘No identification chips detected. You are also not an authorized member of the crew.’
Rebekah pleads. ‘But you have to listen.’
‘No identification chip detected. You are also not—’
She kicks the frame. ‘You’re wasting time. You have to listen.’
My head swims. I look to the others. ‘Dear Moses! We’re changing course. I can feel it.’
Reuben gasps. ‘Is it me, or is it harder to breathe?’
Rebekah glances behind. ‘And quieter? The toddlers… they’ve stopped crying.’
I gasp and turn to the screen. ‘Please!’ My breath fogs the screen, blurring my reflection. ‘We have to talk to the fail-safe.’
‘No identification chip detected. You are—’
‘I know! There’s no one left with a chip.’ My vision begins to fade. ‘No wait. Only the Prefects, but we don’t know where… we don’t have time to find them.’
‘Noah!’ Rebekah rises to my shoulder; her breath moistens my ear. ‘We only have minutes left.’ She moans. ‘I can’t… breathe. Reuben!’
I follow her gaze. Reuben’s eyes roll up until only the whites are visible. He lets go. I shoot out my free hand but he’s already out of reach. He drifts silently away as if floating underwater. I take a breath, but nothing happens. The snowstorm from the screen is now in my eyes. I groan and tumble slowly forward. My forehead nudges the screen. ‘Check the ship’s course. Please…’
‘No identification chip—’
‘Check our course! The ship…’ My chest burns. I can no longer see. I spend the last of the air in my lungs in one final plea. ‘The ship has failed. You must activate the fail-safe. Please…’ That’s it. This is the end. We’re finished. We’ll be dead before we crash onto our lost home.
In the silence, I reach out into the dark. I find Rebekah’s cold hand and hold tight. But as my strength leaves, her fingers slip from mine.