Part II: The World Beyond The Water | Chapter 17

“Where is he?”

17

Ray took her to the tank room, not a word had been spoken since he had told her. Not despair. Nor anger. He thought he had saw a faint flicker of relief but if so, it was masked quickly. When they arrived, the room fell silent and Ray cleared it. They were alone, just the two of them and the 4 remaining residents of Fredrick Street, suspended in animation above them, in the tanks.

In the silence, he could hear the bubbles of the water, the chemicals in the tank and the whir of the machines that kept them alive. He could hear the creaking in the walls, the water swirling around them, moving its way around the room like a snake ready to attack.

The silence stretched like an empty strip of road with no headlights in the distance, until she eventually spoke. "Are they OK?"

Ray handed her the folder, with the night's vitals and data within it. She half glanced at it, and then closed it over, handing it back. "And what about....what about Tom? Is he OK?"

Ray nodded. "Yes. No injuries so far and no fatality. His brain function has been normal. He's fine."

Issie shook her head, wiping away a tear. "Good."

She fell silent again. Slowly, almost tenderly, she moved forward and touched the tank and stared in at the inhabitant. Ray waited for a response, but nothing came. 

He stepped forward. "What do you want to do?" 

She stared at him. "I want to wake up."

Ray took a look at her, and felt pain radiating from her like a dying sun. The woman he'd grown up with, had grown into a different person over the past few months. The hopeful Doctor she had been, the optimistic scientist, that woman was long gone. Stepping forward, Ray placed a hand on her shoulder. "I think it's time we stopped." 

She looked at him, solemnly. "I don't make the decisions any more. It's up to them."

Ray nodded, his jaw clenching. He had understood as much. For the path few months now, Issie seemed to be walking around like a ghost at her own funeral, not the leader in charge of running this place. At first he had assumed it was because Tom left, but there was something else. Ray had seen her go through pain and trauma more than any one person should have to go through in their life and each time, along with Tom, she threw herself head first into her work. But not this time. And now he knew why. She was a puppet, just like the rest of them. 

Ray checked his watch and rubbed his temples. He longed to be home, curled up in bed without having to live this horror his life had become, making decisions that are usually reserved for the Gods. He stared at Issie, trying to think of something that would jolt her into action. It pained him to see her helpless, because she was the strongest woman he had ever had the good graces to meet. He loved her as a brother loves his sister. 

Ray pushed a chair towards her then. "Sit down Issie. Sit down and let's think about this." 

She sat. "You want a coffee?"

She nodded. He walked over to the desk and found a pot, touching the glass to make sure it was still hot and poured them two black coffees in a polystyrene cup. He found some crackers and cheese on the desk too. The crackers were still crispy, but the cheese was warm and sticky so he left it. Pulling a chair over, he sat next to her, passed her the coffee cup and the both of them sat there, looking up at the figures in the tanks like a tourist would Mount Rushmore. It was a picnic orchestrated by David Lynch himself. 

They drank the coffee and ate the crackers in silence until she spoke. "The guy who saw them wake, where is he?"

Ray shrugged. "Taking some holiday time." Issie looked at him. "That's the only nice name I can think for it."

"What was his name?"

"Issie—"

"—His name, Ray."

"Colin."

She raised her cup of coffee, a toast to Colin and took a sip, wishing it was something stronger. They fell silent again, their minds casting back down different lanes of memory. Ray started to laugh. 

Issie stared at him, eyebrow raised. "What's so funny?"

"You remember when we were students, I think it was our graduating year, and you failed a few essays, putting your degree in jeopardy?"

"Wow, you really know how to lift a gal's spirits."

He smiled. "Just hear me out. It looked like that was it, done. You had failed and were circling jobs in the paper. You remember?"

She nodded. "I remember. Still sends a shiver down my spine."

"Good. Well, remember after you'd had you're little temper tantrum and had planned how you would rise in the ranks of the local supermarket, remember what you did next?"

A whisper of a smile crept across her face.  "I do."

"Damn right you do. You kicked every door down in that University until you got somebody to sit down and listen to you and give you another chance. You got them to review the essays and the exam papers and you graduated with First Class Honours. You did that. Not you and Tom. Not you and me. You."

She looked at him. "This is different. These people...."

He shrugged. "The way I see it these people are just people with slightly tougher doors to kick in. But you've just got to kick them a little harder."

She smiled then and they both fell silent. 

After a while she got up and approached the tanks again, staring at them all individually. "They're going to want answers."

Ray smiled. "You've always been pretty good at winging it. Keep us out of trouble, and keep the participants alive. At least until we've had time to finish what he's started."

She nodded, and then sighed. "I can't believe he's been doing this. Why didn't he say anything to me?"

"I asked him the same thing."

"And?"

"He wanted to protect us. He wanted to protect you. You know as well as I do that if this project fails, there's no way we all walk out of here and go back into the world. The only way we're all getting out of here is if the project has a breakthrough. To do that, more people will die and I know Tom doesn't want that and he knows you don't either. So, as Tom is prone to do, he foolishly took matters into his own hands. He's figured away to bring them back. And that's what we're going to do, OK?"

Issie nodded. She was staring at the empty tanks. "This is all on us, Ray. These people. All we wanted to do was find the cure for sadness, for pain, for grief. Find out the parameters for the perfect life where no sadness or pain was felt. And once we did that we could change the world, the entire human condition. Instead, we've become monsters. Because of ourselves. Because we played God. And because of Harold, fucking, Wells." 

The temperature in the room seemed to change with the single mention of his name. 

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, not until some more white coats started to enter the room and mill around, checking that the drugs were working and the people in the tanks were still alive. A few wary glances came their way but nobody approached them as they made their way out of the room. 

Ray glanced at his watch then at Issie. "You want me to set up the call with—"

"No, it's fine. I'll do it. I just can't promise this is a door I can kick down though." 

"Sure it is." He glanced at his watch one more time before they parted ways. "Good luck with the call. Just a little while longer and this whole thing will be over. Tom has promised that much."

She nodded, but before he left, she touched his arm. "Can you tell him....I don't know, tell him...." She couldn't find the words.

Ray looked around, making sure there were no prying eyes. "He knows, but I will. Chances are you'll be able to tell him yourself."

She sighed, knowing the weight of the question she was about to ask. "You really think he can do this? That this is all almost over?"

He did his best to give her a re-assuring smile. "I do. All you need to do is buy is keep Harold off the scent. Let him know what's happened but that we're about to make  a big breakthrough. Remember, they're money men, not killers."

She didn't smile back. She simply said. "What's the difference?" and left him in the corridor disappearing into her office.