Part II: The World Beyond The Water - Chapter 13

In Chapter 13, Ray really wishes he never got out of bed to go to work today…

13

The day started like any day usually starts; with the daily fight against the alarm clock. The groaning and the first cold steps on the bathroom floor coupled with the desperate, almost lustful, desire to return to the duvet, pull the covers over him and go back to sleep, cuddling a wife that didn't exist – Ray wasn't married which made his decision to join the project easy. When Ray got out of bed that morning at 6:05, it felt like any other day. He shuffled bleary eyed into the bathroom, checking his reflection in the mirror – the grey of his skin catching up with what little hair he had left and the base of his stomach getting doughy. He got showered and dressed. He made himself coffee and ate a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast. He checked in on the rest of the world via the Internet. It was a normal day for Ray Samson. He had no reason to suspect the day was going to end any differently than it usually did; certainly not in the manner in which it would. If he had, he probably wouldn't have gotten out of bed at all.

Standing outside his house, Ray waited for the 7:05 shuttle to pick him up for work. The cold wind bit into him, and he looked out at the sea that his view provided. It was choppy and the water as dull as the grey clouds above, with no sign of land (or the world) beyond. When Ray signed up for the project, he half expected a trip to the deserts of America or the outback of Australia. But when Tom and Issie, had suggested an abandoned Scottish island called St. Kilda, his heart wept. When he asked why, Tom's answer was simple. "Let's go somewhere where the world isn't looking." 

And he was right. The island had been abandoned for years, save military personnel, some volunteers and scientists during the summer months. When Ray had researched the island, he'd asked Tom and Issie what the plans where for those who may already be there working. As ever, he was told that the Wells Foundation had it in hand. Ray's guess was they had either bought over the island or had bought whichever company was sending these personnel out. Either way, when Ray arrived, the project was fully underway, and there was not a single person on the island who wasn't involved in, some capacity, with either Tom, Issie or the Wells Foundation. They had built on old army barracks for the majority of personnel, with some more luxurious housing for the likes of Ray and those who were further of the flag pole; including the view of what Ray described as the edge of the world. As he took in this view now, he longed for the dusty desert of Nevada and to be a bus ride away from Vegas.

He was hoping the shuttle was quiet this morning. At the very least he was hoping that neither of his colleagues were on it; he'd never before worked on a project who's staff created more problems or talked as much about what could go wrong than this one. Sure, it was a high stakes game; but it was tight-lipped for a reason and Ray liked it to remain that way, especially out of the 'office.' Besides, he took the early morning shifts for a reason. The world was still asleep and when the world was still asleep there was less chance of somebody ruining your day. This little philosophy was something he'd cottoned on to in his 20s and had stuck with him ever since. He liked people sure, but he liked to start off the day without them more. As the little 20-seater pulled into his street, he was weighing up how to spend the commute; nap or newspaper. When he looked through the shuttle window as it got closer, his heart sank a little. He could see Peter, one of the project analysts, up front nipping the drivers ear off.  He considered for a brief moment whether he ought not to slip back into the house and get the next shuttle or better yet step out in front and let the wheels take him, but it was too late; the shuttle was pulling to a stop and Peter, lab coat already on, was waving at him frantically. With a sigh, and a last glance back out at the edge of the world, he stepped onto the shuttle. 

"Morning Ray! Ready for a fun-filled day at the office?" chirped Peter, winking the last word. 

Ray climbed the steps to the shuttle and showed the driver his ID and exchanged a quick roll of the eyes before the doors shut and the shuttle moved off again. Ray made his way to the back, followed closely by Peter, and grabbed the seat nearest the window, avoiding the cigarette stain on the plastic seat.

"You know we're not supposed to talk about work outside the office, Peter. And if it's all the same to you, I like to remain tight-lipped on it," said Ray.

Peter's breezy smile slipped a little then found it's way back onto his face again. 

"Of course, of course. Tight-lipped is tight-lipped for a reason. Understood boss," said Peter.

"I'm not your boss, we're different departments Peter. Just call me Ray."

Peter shook his head. "Nah, you're definitely my boss. Anyone who's a suit and briefcase is higher up than a lab coat and clipboard. Even if we do more work than you, eh?" laughed Peter.

Ray smiled at the joke and surveyed his unwanted commuting companion. His teeth were crooked and yellowing, he sported a ginger-flecked beard, and his hair was thinning so quickly that you would have no idea that he was 10 years Ray's junior. It was like someone had tried to take the DNA of a middle aged man and pair it with a teenager; and ended up producing Peter, a tired and balding middle aged man with the acne of a 16 year old and the teeth of a bad boxer. But he was an energetic little fucker; he'd give him that.

"I suppose you do," said Ray. "Maybe we should get you a promotion."

Peter looked panicked as he waved his hands, like an imaginary white flag of surrender was held tight between his fists. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. Man, you must not be a morning person then?" asked Peter.

"I'm plenty a morning person Pete, just not much of a people person," replied Ray.

Peter nodded and mimed zipping his lips. "Understood. Like a bit of quiet, coffee and the morning crossword do you? I can get behind that. You just needed to say the word, I'll step up and talk with Bob here," said Peter, taking his leave, swaying toward the front of the bus.

Ray thought back on his first meeting with him on this very commute. It'd been packed silent, and he was the only one talking and the only one wearing the lab coat, despite being told he was only supposed to get changed into it when he arrived so as to keep the secrecy of the project complete, just in case. Ray had taken him aside to remind him of this and ever since he'd treated him like his best friend whenever they passed in the corridors. If Ray knew how that day would end, maybe he'd have been a little nicer to Peter.

Twenty minutes later, Ray was swiping his ID card through the turnstiles and heading for the coffee machine, pumping the brown stuff into the paper cup and stirring in a couple of sugars for good measure, getting ready for the day ahead. Tossing the plastic spoon into the bin, he walked into the corridor and started heading toward his office.

"Mr. Samson?"

Slowing down, he turned and saw two white coats rushing up to him. They were new interns (they recycled so quickly here that he never took to remembering names anymore) and they fell in step with him as he walked down the corridor, squeezing past people in suits and other white coats as they went. 

Ray spotted a folder in one of their hands. "What have you got for me?"

One of them, the girl, cleared her throat. "We'll wait till we get into your office Mr. Samson we—"

Ray stopped walking. If they had to wait to give him the overnight data then it couldn't be good. The interns walked on a few yards before realizing Ray was no longer with them. They rushed back to meet him. 

"Mr. Samson, if you—"

Ray cut them off. "Let me see the data now. Please." 

They handed him the folder and fell silent as he started to flick through them. Without looking up, he asked the question he'd been hoping could wait until he'd finished his coffee and settled into the day. 

"How were they during the night?"

Ray stole a glance at them and saw that one of them, the girl again (now that he looked at her, he was sure her name was Viola) was biting her nails nervously and the other (Jared maybe, something Hollywood-y) was avoiding eye contact. Even those walking the corridor seemed to be swerving around them, like they were rocks in a stream. Something had happened during the night and they were withholding it from him. Ray wanted to know what happened and quickly; bad news was only made worse the longer you had to wait for it. 

"What happened?"

Jared glanced at Viola before speaking. "They...they woke up. Sir."

Ray stopped skimming the charts and the readings that were in his hand and stared at the kid. He was young, with hair that looked like candyfloss stained black. He was new to the project, and had only been briefed on the essentials, not the overall details (the less anyone knew, the better – plausible deniability) but even he would know that this was bad news.

Viola cleared her throat again. "What do you want us to do, sir? Do you want us to reset? Flood them?"

The two interns glanced nervously to each other as Ray stopped to stare at them.

"Flood them? All of them? Yeah, let's do that. You can explain to Dr. Wyatt and all the people at the Foundation that you flushed this whole thing down the toilet. We're not getting to that. The least we can do for the people who haven't made it this far, is to see this thing through. Got it?" Ray finished, staring at them. They really were just kids. Where the hell did they find these people?

They nodded and spoke in unison. "Yessir."

"Now, speaking of Dr. Wyatt does she know about this?" Ray asked.

The pair of them shook their head. 

"Not yet. We're under strict instructions to bring any anomalies or any problems straight to you sir," said Jared.

They stared at him, wide eyed, probably a couple Red Bulls pumping through their system; it was either that or coke in a job like this and Ray knew which one he had preferred, once upon a time. Hell, that was probably one of the reasons he was here in the first place. The only type of people you recruit for jobs like this are fresh-faced idealists with something to prove or people with a lot of shadows in their past. Ray looked to the side. A window ran the length of the corridor and the view opened out onto the room where the tanks stood. After a while he turned to the girl. "Is there footage?"

She nodded. "Yes."

Ray paused. "From here and there?"

She bit her lip nervously. "Yes."

Ray had made his decision. "Then show me it. Quickly and quietly. And get me this kid who was on shift, assuming he's not lying in a ditch somewhere with shit in his pants."

They made their way to his office, Ray pondering the last time he had a regular job and not something straight out of a science fiction film, as he prepared to face the long day ahead. 

Although how long, or how short it would end up being, he didn't know.