A Darker Plan

3. Death house

This note. Alf. God help us both.

I switched on the computer in front of me. The PKE logo followed by the security warning prompt - lights up with red over yellow diagonal bars. A dreadful feeling came over me just then. I knew it was the Pavlovian reaction to the colors. The conditioning from the media I'd consumed. I took a long breath and pushed the feeling away from me as if the air itself didn't belong in my own lungs, but it wouldn't go away. It was solid in the corner of my thoughts - waiting for it's next opportunity to terrorize me.

I entered my passcodes and begin by reviewing some previous formulas from weeks before because I'll need to make my searches look logical. There are eyes on the very page I'm on now. We were all being watched of course, catalogued, scrutinized.

My plan is to modify the working formula, which updates globally, and then the vaulted archived versions. Then I'll corrupt the vaulted archived versions with a self-replicating survivor code, so that when they attempt a fragment recovery, they will still be stuck with my modified versions [Data Redacted] I only wished I could be there to see one of their faces when they realize new formulas will have to be written.

I calculated that it could delay them for at least a year, maybe longer, even using the quantum system to crack it. Eventually they'll solve it. In any case it will stall the air poisoning, and maybe... I'll be remembered for doing something besides being a human exterminator.

Here, I'm at document 314. 313 this is the list of base chemicals. 314 is the opening chapters, the inter-action between them, it scrolls goes on for pages. There will be direct links to the master archive once I enable the update revision, and classify it headlined.

The room is air-conditioned and yet. I'm feeling something is off. Oh no. Not now. A loss of balance. My head, I'm disoriented, and my brain thinks I'm in a slow rotation. Feeling a bit sic as it is. Not now I begged. It got worse then. I've doubled over, placing my hands behind my head, and I pushed against them.

Trying to bring blood oxygen back into my head.

I dry heave. Oh god... I'm nauseous. Feeling close to losing it. I may pass out any second now... shit... this... this time it's bad.

I spun there. Alone with my failing body.

- - -

I'm waking. The spins have subsided.

My face, hands, and legs are cold from the floor. I sit up carefully.

Ugh!

My mouth is clammy. There is still a slight dizziness, swirling in my head, and this constant nausea of falling backwards. My body warned me to lie down and curl up into fetal position. Be silent. But I stay upright, I will get used to it. I can do that. At four times a-week it was something of a sad thing, getting used to these symptomatic bouts that came on so possessive.

Breath carefully now... Don't bring on the spins again.

According to the time, I've been down for about twenty two minutes.

I concentrated and uploaded my codes to make the adjustments. Since I had written a third of this section I had no difficulty accessing the masters. Minutes later, I had completed the deed.

Now, payment for my sins was due.

I sat back and wondered exactly how I would be killed for this. I'm going to die that's for sure now. You're not supposed to know when your going to die. That was a mystery for normal citizens. People that knew better than to be involved with government business.

The batch technicians will discover the error first. Then they'll come for me.

Is it time? Is it happening now?

I clicked the sleep button on the computer. I took a deep breath and let it out.

What's done is done.

"Yes?"

"Sinclair, I'm here to take you to the lab."

Shit. The voice was muffled by the thickness of the door.

I open it.

Cleveland, he stands there with his lab coat on with white ear buds in his ears. His stringy brown hair touches his shoulders, and his hands are stuffed in his coat pockets. He wears a blank face though. Like he's got something he's thinking about.

"I'm in a lab near yours, so they asked me to take you there. If you already know where to go then I'll take off okay?

"Oh... I thought, no... I don't know where it is, just a second."

"Get the flight jacket in the closet. It's warm. So you're in the botanicals tonight. It's cold down there."

"Botanicals?"

"End testing. Anyway you lucky bastard your assist is..."

"Assistant?"

"Yeah. And don't fall in love with her."

I raised my brows.

"I've not worked with her, but I've heard she's only seventeen."

"I didn't know they succeeded in fusing the mist with edibles."

"I heard she's super cute Sinclair, so don't fall in love with her man. I'm serious."

"Yes I heard you the first time."

I switched off the computer and grabbed the green flight jacket from the close. My name was sewn onto the left front pocket. I carried the white lab coat in my hand. The rip-strap jacket had lots of storage pockets.

"Oh, you will need this from now on. Congratulations – your old key is crap now. Give it to administration later."

He handed me a new Mag-key with my photo. It had a green bar under my picture, which meant I was now cleared for all levels. We left the room and headed down the hallway.

"What are you listening to?"

"Huh?"

"The music..."

"Nocturne in B-Major, Opus 9 Number 3 — Allegretto."

"Oh."

"Know the composer Sinclair?"

"Is it Chopin?"

"Lucky guess."

He stared straight ahead. Cleveland why are you such an asshole? We rounded past a wide corridor and came to a cavernous intersection. He stepped up and pressed a button. There was a massive twenty-five foot cam. Intimidating was an understatement. Like some giant's bank vault door. This was a blast door. Had to be. It slid up in a confusing counter clockwise movement, and silent all the while. Impressive for something so huge.

We stepped in and walked for ten seconds until reaching a relatable size entrance to the underground lift. He swiped his mag-key and a computer tone gently hummed out. A small green bar appeared and he pressed sub-floor twelve.

"That's a long ways down."

"You'll forget all about it once you're down there."

"Well, I'm still overwhelmed by this all. The structures are like nothing I've ever seen."

"Just get a grip and do your job. You'll be fine. Or maybe not... What the hell's wrong with your skin?

I ignored him. The lift descended so abruptly that my stomach turned a little, it was like a roller coaster, diving from some ridiculous height. I bent over a little attempting to tighten my stomach acting like I was just scratching my leg.