Page 2 of Taken (After the End #6)

Chapter Two

Rhen

I hit the ground hard, crashing against the floor in a pile of limbs, a puddle of flesh.

Like one of those squeezie balls filled with that goopy gel?

I always wondered what that gel actually is made of.

If you took it out of its shell, what form would it take?

Would it hold shape or would it disintegrate?

I had one of those squeezie balls in my studio. Yes, my studio. I had a studio. I had a studio because I’m an artist. And I’m the only artist who was selected to be a part of the Sucere Project. I was selected to tick off the arts and culture box. All arts. All culture. Of all of humanity. Ha.

“Warning. Preservation pod malfunction. Automatic expulsion engaged.” The sound of the female voice grates.

I remember listening to a BBC news special once on why humans prefer women’s voices in our tech, robots, AI.

Apparently, we women are seen as less threatening and more reliable. Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha.

“Welcome to New Earth…Rhen…” The woman’s voice cuts out around my name in what is otherwise already a choppy sentence.

Taking stock of my body after the fall, the first thing that screams at me is my left arm. “Ooooouwwwww,” I wheeze. Is my shoulder dislocated? I can still move it, so I’m gonna stay optimistic.

I push off the ground with my right arm. Roll, roll, roll. Ahhhh. “Ergghhhh.” I land on my back and blink. Meanwhile, she’s still speaking to me.

“Seek out your Captain for instruction on what is required of you to make the Sucere Project mission successful. Remember, your job is to create a functioning community in the new world. If your Captain is not yet awake and eleven thousand years have passed, please wake your Captain. His name is…Sergeant Black,” the automated voice autofills again.

“You’ll find him in Bay One, Preservation Pod Position One. ”

She goes on to list where I’ll find the First and Second Mates—shocker, they’re in Bay One, Positions Two and Three.

She lets me know that I’m in Bay Twelve—out of Twelve—and that I’m in Position Forty-three—out of Forty-three.

That seems almost cruel. But then again, I figure somebody’s gotta be last, and I am the artist assigned to this project.

A project meant to save humanity itself.

“Now…Rhen…if the minimum required eleven thousand years have not passed and your Captain and fellow crew members are not yet awake, you are not permitted to wake another passenger. You may find yourself tempted to do so as time passes due to loneliness, boredom and humans’ crippling need for companionship…

” Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this chick needs to work on her bedside manner…

“However, if you wake another passenger from their Preservation Pod, they will be instructed to execute you. Should they refuse, the ranked officials on board the Chamber will ensure you are sentenced to death upon waking, alongside the passenger who failed in their duty to execute you…”

I snort and finally push myself all the way up to sitting.

I shake my head, trying to get oriented.

I lean all of my weight onto my right hand, hovering there until it shakes.

My left arm is still feeling a bit mangled.

Not the worst sensation. Not the best. There’s also my death to deal with. Ha. HahahahahahaHA. Cue sobs.

I rub my eyes with the heel of my left hand.

I do that for a long time. I feel a little…

nauseous? No, not nauseous. Maybe, nervous?

Nah. Not nervous. Discombobulated. Ooh, yeah.

That. I always liked that word. It was one of the few words that I learned in English that I never found a good translation for into my native Portuguese.

I overused the word constantly—N?o me discombobulate!

—much to the irritation of meu pai. But he’s not here now and neither is minha m?e or tia Leonor or tia Maria or tia Benedita or tio Jo?o.

No, they’re long gone if the Sucere Chamber worked as planned.

Then again…if everything went according to plan, why am I the only one awake?

Giving myself no more than one second to mourn a loss I’d spent months mourning before entering the Sucere Chamber, I dust myself off—there is no dust on my gray, uninspired uniform—and look up at my surroundings for the first time.

Eh. Predictable. I remember being shuffled down this long hallway, even remember climbing into my own freaky-looking pod.

Remember the glass lowering, and the panic…

porra. This place is just as icky as I remember it.

There’s a long hallway full of clear people pods glowing blue like in every science fiction book minha m?e ever read to me before she died, only the glass panel I just fell through hangs open and the light that shines out of the pod is red.

I glance at the blue pod across from me. Number forty-two. It’s got a person in it and porra, do they look creepy. They don’t look like they’re asleep, but like they’re mid-blink and could wake up at any second. Now that I’ve fallen out of my own pod, I wonder what holds them up. Is it a magnet?

The people look like refrigerator magnets. I had a mini fridge in my studio, and there were pictures of all my dead relatives all over it. What happened to that fridge? What happened to the photos after the Sucere militia came and took me away?

Struggling to find my legs, it takes me a while to move from a crawl to standing.

I stare up and down the hall. It’s dark to my left.

To my right, the hall dead-ends. Nobody’s awake.

I know it without having investigated the other pods.

I can feel just how eerily alone I am, which begs the question one more time…

if everything went according to plan, why would the Sucere architects have woken me first?

“Hey, lady,” I say. The sound of my voice is shocking. I didn’t expect it to be so high-pitched. I sound like a cartoon character. Oooh, I wonder if she’s got cartoons on board this ship. That thought perks me up.

“Yes…Rhen…You may call me Pamela.”

“Pamela.” I hate it. “Is anybody else awake?”

“My records show that sixteen preservation pods have been engaged.”

I wait for her to say more. She doesn’t. “Engaged? What does that mean?”

“Sixteen preservation pods have been opened and are currently unoccupied.”

“So, some people are awake? Is the Captain awake?”

“Negative. The Captain’s preservation pod remains intact.”

Intact. I don’t like the way she says that.

Goose pimples feather on the back of my neck.

Goose. Geese. Gooses. I’ve never had goose.

I wonder if the biochemists aboard this Chamber have goose DNA, if we’ll be able to restore the creatures so we can eat them over a big happy Christmas dinner, like my Irish nana always talked about from her childhood.

I clear my throat. “So um, what are the other fifteen people doing, then?”

“I am unable to provide you with an answer to your question…Rhen. Please, rephrase…Rhen.”

I think. “When did the last person wake up?”

“The last preservation pod was engaged six hundred and nineteen years ago.”

The goose pimples on the back of my neck work their way around to my throat. I can’t breathe. I feel scratchy. Scratchy inside like the outside of an ananás. I swallow a few times, but I’m thirsty. “So, are we close to eleven thousand years in, now?”

“I do not understand…Rhen. Please, rephr…”

“How many years have passed since the Sucere Project began?” I snap.

“It has been…” Please say eleven thousand years, please say eleven thousand, eleven thousand, eleven…“Three thousand, nine-hundred and ninety-six years since the Sucere Project began.”

Oh. Oh. Okay, then. Okay, okay, okay. This is fine. Fine, fine, fine. Fine. Fine. “Cool. Cool cool coolcoolcoolcoolcool.” I take a big, gasping breath. “Thanks, Pamela. That’s cool. Everything’s fine. That’s good. Thanks for the…”

I have a panic attack. It lasts hours or maybe minutes.

Maybe days. When I come back to, Pamela is waiting patiently for me with instructions on how to find the med bay, the dormitories, and the cafeteria.

“I encourage you to explore the safety manual of the Sucere Chamber before leaving the Chamber for the surface world. Remember, thousands of years have passed since you last were awake. The world will look very different than you last left it.”

I amble shakily upright, using the lip of my open pod for support because there’s no way in hell I’m getting finger smudges all over some other frozen refrigerator magnet’s pod.

I’m up! I’m alive! My legs are rubber, so I drag my feet behind me as I head off to the left in the only direction on offer to me given that I’m the last. damn.

person. in the Sucere hierarchy. I am the least important person here.

I have no survival instincts to speak of.

How am I going to live? No no no, forget about all that. I’m up! I’m alive!

“Thanks, Pamela.”

“You are welcome…Rhen.”

I shuffle off a few steps before glancing up at the smooth surface of the roof over my head.

“You uh…have any advice for me?” It’s weird hearing her voice come from everywhere and not knowing where to look to talk to her.

She isn’t a she, Rhen. She’s a goddamn robot. I’m alone…and I’ll die alone here…

Nope. NOPE. Fuck that! I’m up! I’m alive! Ha. HAHAHAHAHA.

“I encourage you to read the safety manual of the Sucere Chamber before you do anything else…Rhen. You can find copies of the safety manual in the common areas of the Chamber. You can also find safety manuals in the dormitories where you can sleep. I encourage you to read the safety manual before attempting to explore the surface world. Radiation levels may be too high for you to venture outside safely. However, there are many activities available to you within the Chamber. And, if you become bored, I am always available for you, Rhen.”