LifeShield

Installation

Jonathon looks down the bland beige hallway, carpet streaked dark with the shuffling of feet. The door he faces is a drab nothing. Except for the camera to one side, there's nothing to distinguish this door from any of others dotting the walls. Not even a sign, or even a piece of paper taped crookedly to show this is the right place. He glances down at his phone one last time, where the blue dot of his location matches the destination.

Not that he isn't grateful. Tweets and images are rolling in even now from the other parts of the world. It'd quickly become obvious that the launch was simultaneously globally, so his dead of night was their sun shining streets. Some had the lucky few had tweeted their location beforehand, so they're wading through the swarms of people hoping to see a first glimpse.

He isn't that stupid.

Following the instructions, he holds his phone close to the camera. The door chunks instantly open. Nudging it open with his toe, he peeks inside. Faded off-white walls illuminate after the lights wearily decide to turn on.

Poking his head through, Jonathon takes in the room. Utterly unadorned, but it doesn't need it, for a gleaming machine dominates the center of the room. A cylinder the size of his shower glows in the glossy hues of Caribbean waters, reflecting the room like a high-tech carnival mirror. One one side, a small platform holds a bench trapped inside bright safety rails.

Snazzy.

As he steps through and lets the door close, the machine hums to life, as if acknowledging his presence. A voice speaks, firmly dispassionate like a schoolteacher.

"Hello. I am LifeShield. How are you today, Jonathon?"

"Fine," he groans. He hates the voices. They always sound like a dumb five year old on happy pills. He understands their usefulness perfectly well, but it never stops the desire to jab a dagger through their speakers

"Good. Let's get started. This process will take about an hour. Have you read the procedure instructions?

"Yes."

"Then I'll recap. First, I'll help you into the LifeShield pod. It will fill up your neck with shield fluid. You'll stay immersed for approximately 45 minutes while you absorb the fluid. Then after a brief immersion for your head, I'll raise you back up and you'll be done. Tell me when you're ready to proceed."

Jonathon shakes his head, "Ready"

"Then please remove all clothing and jewelry, and step onto the platform."

He kicks off his loafers, and shrugs his hoodie over corded muscles spackled with scars. No point in elaborate clothes when he knew this was coming. There's no place to put it, so he drops it to sprawl over his shoes. His sweatpants fall and get kicked into the pile with the rest. He steps the few feet onto the platform, where the gate closes around him.

"Let's do this"

With a smooth hum of power, the platform rises. Jonathon flexes his knees instinctively to maintain balance, not even bothering with a rail to steady himself. The platform crawls upward until it locks level with the top of the cylinder. He leans over to see a foot or so of golden liquid, lit from below by a circle of lights.

"This it?"

"Yes," the voice intones. "Step into the cylinder, please. It will automatically lower as it fills."

Warm honey absorbs his foot, thick and resisting when he tries to swirl it. The liquid makes a sound like goorp as he plunges his other foot in. Standing, his fingertips can graze the dingy ceiling tiles. Humming felt more than heard, the cylinder floor drops slowly. More liquid oozes in from nozzles set around the sides, flowing like slow motion waterfalls, the level rising above his knees.

Could almost do a decent workout in here. With his back to the cylinder wall, he can lift one knee and thigh up through the stuff. Almost floats there too. Lifting his other foot, it takes long seconds to sink enough to touch the floor again. On his hands, it's like velvet gloves, but sluicing cleanly away when he lifts them again. Odd stuff, whatever it is.

The floating sensation returns as the level creeps over his shoulders, and stops. He rocks up and down, using just his toes.

"Now what?" He calls out.

"Please remain as immersed as possible while you wait."

"I can move around, right."

"Certainly."

He sighs in relief. Staying motionless is second nature, for hours on end when the job needs it. But that's still a far cry from enjoying it. He wades though the stuff, in admittedly tiny circles. But after a half dozen laps, his mind tunes out the peaceful warmth, already planning the next day.

A wind chime tone sounds three times, bringing him out of his reverie. "What?"

"Only the final complete immersion remains," the machine says. "Hold your breath and duck your head under for 30 seconds or more."

"Won't that make the head shield weaker?"

"Initially yes, but the shield substance will quickly find equilibrium."

Filling his lungs, his fingertips grip the far side to push his head. Unlike before, a buzz ripples through his skin, a billion prickles like acupuncture needles dancing on his skin.

Curious, he opens his eyes. Blueish light rolls in waves around him, like a drunk night under the northern lights, but each wave sings to him through the orchestra of his nerves.

How long? 15 seconds maybe? He needs at least 30. Would longer increase the strength? Or make this equilibrium happen faster?

The chimes repeat, dull imitations muffled by his surrounding. But now he does stay motionless, willing to see how far his lungs could go.

35, 36.

The cosmic tune still runs through him, though fading, more subtle now. But twirls of rhythms spin faster in places. Fade. Start again in other places. An image from his childhood surfaces. He squats on matchstick legs as a hundred baby chicks cry a chorus of cheep, cheep, cheep around him. Their instincts call out for something, even if they don't understand yet what that is.

Despite the mounting pressure from his lungs, he feels oddly at peace. He'll shape the world. Or the world will shape him. Which one no longer matters, only by flinging himself off the cliff can he find out.

82, 83.

He releases his fingers, and floats weightless in this warm bubble. Like a baptism, the fluid has purified him, honed his purpose to a smooth edge.

Flexing toes, his face breaks through the surface. Vision clears immediately, and his lungs exhale, then suck in cool, life-giving air. The thump of his heart races until he slows his breathing, telling his body that everything is okay.

It's done?

The voice replies as his thought fades. "Your LifeShield is now complete. Welcome to the future." The cylinder floor rises, fluid sluicing off his skin. He pats his arm. Completely dry. Then the platform lowers him to floor level. "Would you like to try it out?"

"Sure."

In the corner, a spotlight illuminates the same squat green shape he'd seen in the demo, hopper filled filled to the brim with tennis balls. "Stand in the cross hairs."

He moves to the indicated spot, simply two strips of painters tape slapped down almost perpendicular. He faces the machine with anticipation, eager to see if this did all it said. With a whomp, a yellow shape flies at him. He ducks instinctively, ball flying over his shoulder. "Way to go," he thinks, standing rigid as the next one flies at him.

The room shadows as if seen through blue-tinted sunglasses, shimmering like asphalt on a scorching day. An eye blink later, its fading back to normal hues. The tennis ball bounces harmlessly into the corner on his left. A grin splits his face. It works!

He flinches as another ball attacks his face, hitting dead between his eyes so close he can see the nap of the felt. But even that spins away off to the side. The impact feels like a gust of wind, swaying his head back from the momentum. The roar of his laughter fills the room. "Faster!" He flings his arms out, the thump, thump, thump of balls patter at his chest with infantile strength.

"Yes!"