Unraveling the Alt Code

Chapter Two: Too many Questions

Passing door after small white door, I walk back along the corridors to my floor. But just as I am about to reach my cube, I notice a gathering a few rooms down out of the corner of my eye. There are five or six guardians (which is already odd as you normally you see no more than three in a room) but what is even more unusual is that they are inside someone's cube with clipboards and cams taking photographs and notes. This is unsettling; I duck down and creep little closer to try and see what is going on. My brain keeps telling me to stop: mind my own business and stay out of trouble. But inevitably curiosity wins out and my feet continue to step surely towards the strange group.

As I get a little closer I realise this is Que's room. I scan around for Que, but he's no where to be seen. His window is smashed and there are glass shards sprinkled all across the floor. They twinkle as a woman in a biohazard suit carefully picks them up and places them into a tube. It is only now I notice that one of the guardians is throwing his things into a plastic box with careless abandon. All his books and writing paper, his beautiful fountain pens, all crumpled and melting into each-other. Some of the pens must have cracked because there is blue ink slowly dripping out onto the pristine floor. The tiny beads colour the rubber tiles with their turquoise blood in striking contrast. The pointless destruction of his most precious possessions forces me to let out a short gasp of horror. I clap my hand over my mouth, but I know it's already too late. "Shit" I curse internally. "I've been rumbled".
One of them looks up. I don't know his name but he's an older man with grey eyes and a grey beard to match. We make eye contact and he stares at me - almost frozen - till the others follow his gaze.
"What are you doing here?" The hazmat woman booms.
"This is my floor. What are you doing here and where's Que?" I quickly retaliate, arms folded and one eyebrow raised. She seems new and I'm one of the older Alts so I'm pretty sure I can get away with the attitude. I'm right. She shifts her weight nervously and looks to the older man.
"Graduated." He says, barely looking in my direction.
"But his 18th wasn't for another three months?" I say this more to myself than the guardians in front of me, but one of them I think is called Simon answers anyway.
"His slot was moved forward. This doesn't concern you" The way he says this is so sharp and final, like he'd decided suddenly the conversion ended now. I go to say something more, demand answers, not just passive, half-assed replies but I'm interrupted by grey beard again. His voice curls like the deep roll of thunder as he purrs:
"I think you've asked too many questions already dear."
I turn slowly and pace back the way I came without a word. What did he mean my that? Was it a threat? Who even is that man? I shake my head and decide to worry about that later. Right now all I can think of is Que. I've never even heard of an early graduation - I don't think it's naïve to say no one here has. And why on earth would they choose him? It isn't like he was anyone exceptional (I mean that in a nice way.) All I mean is that I would know; we were friends.

I remember when I first met him I was struck by how sarcastic he was - witty too. He had this dry sense of humor that could make you laugh till your sides hurt, but his mood was always gloomier than a storm cloud on a grey day. He claimed the mindset helped him write more 'artistic' poetry, but really I just think he was a bit of a lovable asshole. When you speak to him, you get this odd feeling that he sees the world differently from the rest of us - like he constantly wanted to know more. Every day he'd ask the guardians the sort of things I'd always wondered, but never said out loud. About what Alt means and why we are different from the all the Bases on the outside. About why we have to live here and what happens after graduation. And without fail every time he asked, he'd get the same standard answer: There is a change Alts that means they have slightly different DNA to Bases. So in the facility you get extra care to suit your specific needs. But somehow this vague response was never enough for him ; every day he'd keep trying, keep asking. He was so determined to find something new, something more, more that the rest of us had.
But now all his stuff's in a box and I'm sitting on the corner of my bed wondering if I'll ever see him again.