After the Fall

6: Manipulating the Masses

Pristine, white tiled floors reflected the thick rubber on the sole of my shoes with each footstep. My trip was the same as every other day off from training. Down the hall, past the rec room, toward the lifts I'd go, nodding and waving to passersby regardless of what emotion stirred inside.

Being pleasant despite it all was part of the job. And what could it hurt? Seeing the smiles on others' faces sometimes reminded me why I should smile too. I was one of the lucky ones.

I pressed the glowing round button near the lift and waited for the metal door to slide open. While waiting, thoughts of the unlucky ones came to mind. Those left on the outside and forced to face Hell by braving the darkness if they had somehow survived the asteroid impact. The ones who didn't live long after, due to the pollutants that stirred in the air from the foreign killer.

Yes, indeed, I was fortunate.

Refuge Inc. built hundreds of facilities around the globe to house people, and many of those people were assigned to a facility depending on their skills, health, age, language, education, and gender, amongst other things. The selection process had been designed to be as equal and efficient as possible, while taking the future of mankind into consideration. Even after years of planning, building, and hard work, it was rumored that some questioned the success of housing people in underground spheres right up until the tragedy.

Those who were terminally ill, severely handicapped, or in any way not self-sufficient despite their skill, were not assigned. You had to pull your own weight and work together and for each other so one day, when the time was right, we could resurface and help heal our planet's wounds.

I wasn't sure how me and my parents were assigned. I never thought about it until recently. Mom and Dad probably had some connections and were really good at what they did. Or maybe Mom and Dad's coin just happened to land on the right side. Luck.

Much like Tamara's circumstance, no one in authority ever talked details about Mom and Dad. They mostly said how great they were or how lucky I was to have them, but never much detail on their lives or their deaths, even if I asked. The deceased were rarely spoken about out of respect for the dead and for those who grieved them.

Now that I thought about it, maybe everyone smiled no matter how miserable they really felt. Everyone in the facility had lost someone in the calamity.

The single door to the lift opened and I entered. Then it slid shut, creeping along and enclosing me in the small space. I pressed the round button branded with Five, and a slight shift indicated the cart was in motion. The smooth ride down a couple floors only took a few seconds, and before I knew it, I had emerged onto level Five.

The layout of the rooms, the halls, and even the animated posters on the smudge-free white walls were the same as Seven and the others. Either way, my route was engrained in my memory thanks to routine.

Although Five had as many people going and coming as Seven did, Five was much quieter. Everyone was a bit more responsibility focused, especially those working in Control. Me, Vince and a few others had secretly dubbed the control room The Pod. Like the peas growing in the garden, the men and women would shut themselves inside, and then detach from their everyday surrounding with intense focus on their duty-running the facility.