Fresh Ink: 2019 Short Story Collection

Hacking

Everything was going perfectly according to plan. Electricity raced through the crystals, bottled lightning that crackled in anticipation of what was to come. Diodes and dashboard lights flashed, each one signalling some greater purpose in the whole of the night's events. The hallways clattered with the constant tromp of heavy boots put to rapid work. All about the complex, thought was being made manifest. Tonight, everything changed.

At the head of operations, the mind behind the altering of future's paths worked. No-one else could be trusted to handle this element of the set-up after all; the boys that worked under him were strong of arm and loyal to the death, but God love them if they didn't know the first thing about advanced chemistry, let alone the theoretical heresies that he dabbled in to challenge the world's understanding. Swirling fluids smashed against once another in the piping about his workstation, solid sloshes of colour breaking up in prismatic sprays, but never combining together. The flick of a switch, the twist of a dial. Neon blue rushed in the undertow, lighting up his work. The new world was only moments away. All he had to do was hold steady.

A piercing siren cut through the base, intertwined with its partner, flashing red lights. A warning of interlopers. On the screens below him, he could already see them advancing through the corridors: The Sunday Squad. Damned children, high on their own egos and self-righteousness. Colour coded and holding martial arts prowess of adults thrice their age, they had already torn through the border guard and were making their way deeper inside. The men manning the security consoles looked up at him blankly, seeking direction on how to handle both matters at once.

"Well, don't just stand there. Go get them!"

The good thing about faceless goons was that they jumped up and got to work fast once you pointed them in the right direction. But as the minutes ticked on and sweat beaded on his forehead from his efforts, the screens showed a familiar pattern. His men would move in, outnumbering the squad in the tight corridors. They would set up chokepoints, ambush spots, pincer movements. And the brats just kept tearing through them like they weren't even there. The leader and his second in command were keeping a tally of how many they had personally knocked out, for crying out loud!

His work was in no way even close to completion, and as the northern wall erupted in a cloud of rubble, the brats were standing in the smoke, pointing at him with striking poses.

"Sunday Squad, let's call it out! Sunday Red!"

"We're not doing this again. It was bad enough the first time."

"Besides, it's just Old Man Anderson. No need to waste time, right Yellow?"

"Whatever. Let's just clear out the last of them and go home."

"My name is Doctor Anderson, you disrespectful brats!"

The one in blue pushed past his red counterpart, chest puffed out.

"Being a doctor doesn't disqualify you from being old. Hand over the Quantum Crystallia you stole from the natural history museum, and maybe we'll let you crawl back to the retirement home in one piece."

"Geez Blue, hold back the edge for a minute, could ya?"

"Yeah, we're supposed to respect the elderly!"

"Enough!"

They craned up to him, arms aloft at the moment of his triumph.

"You children may feel that simple material worth is all that can be mined from the Crystallia, but I see opportunities beyond this realm! With Chemicals Y and Z resonated by the unique electro-magnetic field the gem emits, I will- "

"Look, can we just skip the science lesson and get on with it? We've got places to be."

"Oh, don't you worry child! Once the experiment is completed, we'll all be somewhere spectacular!"