What Lies Beyond The Wall: Part I 6x2l1u

What Lies Beyond The Wall

Part One: The Volunteer By P.M. Keith

Copyright 2016 © by P.M. Keith. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited. I really appreciate you taking the time to read this work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book. Thanks for your !

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For: N.K., L.K., and T.K.

Chapter 1: The Volunteer

One way or another Bertrand Steen would not live another day in cell thirteen. It was his destiny. And so he understood that in as much as he wanted to leave Reprogramming alive, there was a good chance he would not. The probability of his demise was stronger now. Even more than when he’d sat with Mirage two years prior listening to her describe the protocol. He’d asked her to repeat herself, to remind him again of the consequences if things didn’t work out as planned. He ed the word reverberating from her mouth, the wave of sound almost visible through the air. Evaporation! she’d said. If you don’t make it through Reprogramming, they will evaporate you into thin air. Her description of what might happen had been chilling, but even back then he hadn’t fully understood, hadn’t completely conceptualized what was on the line. He did now though. He understood entirely, could feel it deep into his flesh, and knew that today might be the day. He sat on the edge of his bunk staring at a beige wall. He thought again about Mirage. This time it was her olive skin and the last night they’d shared together, the smell of her hair, their shadows flittering together in the candlelight against the bunker wall. God! How he missed her. She’d told him she loved him. It’d been the only moment he’d questioned his decision to volunteer, the only time he’d ever questioned the damned protocol at all. “Good morning, Mr. Steen,” a small voice interrupted. He glanced up to find his attendant standing in the doorway, a dainty young woman with soft features. Her dark hair was tied tightly atop her head, but he could tell it was thick, even though he’d never seen it down. “Yes,” he whispered. “I bet you’re excited,” she smiled delicately. “You get to go home today!” she squealed. “Yes,” he answered, noticing her bright eyes. “Home,” he said with a slight nod.

“I must say,” she started, moving deeper into his room, “it’s been a pleasure working with you over these last three months. I bet you’re completely overwhelmed with the excitement of getting back to your life,” she sang, the same time beginning to tidy up. “Life?” he questioned with a chuckle. “Not much has changed since you’ve been gone,” she reassured. She seemed oblivious to the pessimism in his tone. “You’ll slip right back into the mainstream. You’ll see. It’ll all be perfect,” she said with a grin. “Perfect. Yes,” he nodded. “Well then,” she paused, hands on her hips, “I think you’d better be getting to breakfast. Interview is in less than forty-five minutes,” she said. “Yes. Breakfast,” he said. There was a pause. “Danzi?” he whispered. “Yes,” she said with a smile—she seemed eager to hear him call her name. “I wonder if once I’m back to the mainstream you might be interested in having lunch sometime?” he asked. She paused. He watched as her cheeks started to glow. “Oh my,” she gasped, her gaze going to the floor. “I had no idea you were interested.” “Oh no! Not like that,” he said. “Only for your friendship . . . as a friend,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s been nice getting to know you in here,” he said. “I thought it might be nice to get to know you more on the outside.” “Oh,” she said, her eyes back on his now. He couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed. And then suddenly she clinched her lips tightly and looked away, then back toward him. “Program policy!” she snapped, cocking her head. He could tell she was perturbed. “It prohibits attendants from fraternizing with RP’s,” she blasted. “Not indefinitely,” he snapped back. “I know the policy as well as you,” he said. “The fraternization rule is only in effect for attendants the first two years postreprogramming. After that you’re free to do whatever you like.”

He watched her face relax, her smile return. “I suppose you got me there,” she whispered. “I guess we’ll just have to see in two years, then,” she said with a giggle. “But for now, you’d better be getting off to breakfast.” He hopped to his feet and moved in close to the woman, placed his hands gently on either of her shoulders—he wanted badly to hug her. “Just say you will,” he said, gazing into her eyes. He wondered if she could sense his desperation. “Maybe,” she whispered. “Maybe.”

****

They walked slowly down the bright hallway. Bertrand could hear the familiar vibrations of breakfast in the distance, utensils working against plates, voices echoing down the corridor. He could smell pancakes. It must be Tuesday, he thought, his mouth going moist from the aroma. Before long they were in the cafeteria. “I’m really not hungry,” he muttered, the same time noticing a slight recess in the vibrations around the room. It had grown quieter with his presence, the faces around him casting interested glances his way. “Don’t be silly. Take your seat and I’ll bring you something to eat,” she ordered. He moved over to his usual table. He could feel the eyes watching as he pulled out a chair near the far corner of the room. They were only curious, he thought to himself. Interested to see what a person looked like as he was preparing for Interview. He’d been there himself, a curious bystander, watching closely as one person after the next had made this same journey. He’d tried to read their faces, to see their expressions, just like everyone was doing to him now. “Guess this is the day,” one of the men blurted as Bertrand slid up to the table. “Yes,” Bertrand muttered. The man was Jeff Bandido. He’d been a programmer in the pipeline before

Reprogramming, responsible for maintaining the security network and recognition sensors, ensuring that the pod system operated efficiently. He’d been ordered to Reprogramming when his annual scan returned positive, deemed a potential threat. At least that’s what he’d told Bertrand. “How’s it feel?” Jeff continued. “Oh, ready as I’ll ever be,” Bertrand grinned. “I want you to know that it’s been really nice getting to know you, and if ever on the outside you feel like you need someone to chat with, please feel free to look me up . . . when I get out that is,” Jeff offered. Bertrand smiled. “I will,” he said with a nod. “Good,” Jeff said with a smile. But Bertrand knew Jeff’s offer wouldn’t play out. Jeff was only in Introductions. Chances were that he wouldn’t much about his past after he’d gone through Transformation. Long-term memory loss was one of the possible sideeffects. It didn’t always happen, but more often than not it did. “Here we are,” Danzi interrupted, setting a metal tray before Bertrand. The plate was stacked high with pancakes. “You eat up now,” she ordered. “It’s better to go to interview on a full stomach.” He watched as she moved away, as she retreated to a dark office across the room. It was a place where the attendants gathered. He’d never given much thought about the room until now. What did they do there? he wondered. He found himself with a strange urge to know more, an inexplicable yet irresistible urge to have a peek into the inner-workings of this place to which he’d been confined for the last three months, regardless of how mundane it might seem. He watched as the attendants came and went, fluttering about like eager little starlings. He glanced around the cafeteria. Everyone was busy chatting or eating. They didn’t care about him anymore. All was back to normal as far as they were concerned, curiosity having run its course. “You ever wonder what they do over there?” he asked. “Over there . . . in the attendant room . . . you ever wonder?” he repeated. He looked out at the people

at his own table. Their eyes were on him, but no one responded. “C’mon Jeff, haven’t you ever wondered?” “It doesn’t matter,” someone whispered. “Yeah. But aren’t ya the least bit curious?” Bertrand pressured. The others had gone back to eating. Bertrand looked directly at Jeff, who only shrugged. “Well, you know what? I’m gonna find out,” he blurted, pushing himself up from the table. “Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” Jeff muttered nervously. “Why? What does it matter?” grumbled Bertrand, pushing down heavily atop the table. “It’s just that it’s against the order,” whispered Jeff. “Aren’t you afraid they might punish you?” Bertrand glanced at the attendant room and then back at Jeff. “Good luck with transformation,” he whispered, his voice trailing off through the clatter of the hollow room. “I’ll see ya on the outside,” he said with a smile. He backed away from the table and turned slowly toward the attendant room, the same time thinking about Jeff’s warning. How could they punish him now? He was headed to interview, on his way back to the mainstream. They couldn’t punish him. His time in Reprogramming was over. Besides, even if they did punish him, it would at least stand as something to remind him he was still alive —something he hadn’t felt in a long while. The cafeteria crowd was mostly indifferent to his maneuver as he found himself standing at the entrance of the office. “Bertrand? Is there something you need?” asked Danzi, surprised to see him standing there. “I was just wondering,” he started, glancing around at the faces inside, “what it is you do in here?” Danzi smiled. “We do nothing,” she answered.

“Nothing? There has to be more,” Bertrand argued. “Boring, I know,” she smiled, “but that’s really it. It’s just a place for the attendants, a place we can compare notes, organize our thoughts, catch up on events . . . you understand, I’m sure,” she nodded. “A break room,” Bertrand sais with a chuckle. “It’s just a god damned break room!” “Yes!” she exclaimed. “A break room . . . of sorts. Now, have you finished your breakfast?” she asked, gently guiding him out of the office. “I’m not hungry,” he snapped. “Is it okay if I go back to thirteen until time for interview?” “Certainly,” she nodded. “Do you need me to assist you? Are you ill?” she asked, watching as he’d already started away. “It’s not uncommon for pre-interviewees to feel the nerves,” he heard another attendant chime in. He ignored them and walked slowly across the cafeteria, watching his feet drag along the shiny floor as he moved toward the hallway. “See ya on the outside!” he heard a voice shout. “Take care, Bertrand,” another one echoed. And then there was a chorus of goodbyes. He paused, turned toward the crowd, smiled briefly, and then whipped around to finish the journey to his room.

****

He was resting in his recliner in a partial daze when Danzi’s head popped in. “It’s time,” she whispered. “You won’t need to bring anything,” she said, motioning to his bags gathered neatly in the corner of the room.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You’ll have time to stop here on your way out,” she advised. “After interview,” she added. He shrugged, looked back mournfully at his belongings, and then followed her down the corridor. “You shouldn’t be nervous,” she whispered as they walked toward the end of the hallway. “Things will be fine. They always are. It’s the way it’s designed . . . to be just fine,” she advised. “I’m sure,” he replied, suddenly realizing he was sweating. “No need to worry at all,” she smiled. At the end of the hallway the two stood before a recognition sensor patiently awaiting its acknowledgment. “Good morning,” the voice called out. “I see that Mr. Steen is ready for his interview.” “He is,” answered Danzi. “Thank you, Danzi. You are no longer needed,” the voice ordered. Danzi turned toward Bertrand. “You will do well,” she said. Bertrand nodded and watched as she turned and started back down the hallway. He wanted to reach for her. But in an instant, the security screen disappeared, revealing a figure standing at the entrance. It was another attendant, one Bertrand didn’t know. “Come right in, Mr. Steen,” the man directed. “My name is Osten. I will be your interview attendant, today. My job is to make you as comfortable as possible. Follow me, please,” he spoke gently. Bertrand followed the man into the room, which was nothing more than a waiting area, several plush chairs and couches lining the walls. “Please have a seat,” Osten said, motioning to one of the chairs. “There are just a few things I must review with you before your interview . . . some ground rules if you will,” he said. “As you know, your final interview is the most important part of the process. It is vital that you listen closely to all the questions and answer as calmly and honestly as you can. Unless prompted, at no time should you engage the interviewer. If you are unsure of a question, please merely state that you need clarification. Yes and no answers, when at all possible, will be best. Avoid excessive detail. Whatever you do, do not leave your seat once you are in position. Any questions thus far?” Osten asked.

“No,” Bertrand whispered. “Good. We want you to be as relaxed as possible. So please take the next ten minutes and do your best to clear your thoughts and calm your mind. There are beverages available to help with any nerves,” he said, motioning to a table in the center of the room. “I will return for you when it is time,” Osten said, slowly backing out of the room. Bertrand hesitated before moving to the table. He filled a tall glass with the liquid and returned to his seat. “Anything to make it more comfortable,” he whispered to himself, pulling the glass to his lips for a taste. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever had. He quickly downed the contents and was back for more, filling the glass to the rim. As he sat back on the couch, he suddenly felt more relaxed than he had in a long while. There were no worries. And he felt overcome by euphoria. It was as though suddenly he was certain everything would be fine, that his life would go on. For the first time in a long time he could see his future, could see himself outside of this place. “Be relaxed,” he whispered aloud, “that’s the key to a good interview.” He thought about Danzi, about how it would be nice to know her outside of Reprogramming. He thought about Mirage, about how much he missed her and hoped to see her again. He also thought about his apartment and his job, about getting back to mainstream, getting back to his life, this new life he’d created here behind the wall. He leaned farther back in his seat, closed his eyes tightly, and refocused on clearing his mind. It was the only way, he thought. He must have a clear mind for interview. He focused more on his breathing, pulling air deeply into his lungs, exhaling slowly. He would be calm, he thought to himself. His mind would be clear, and he would be calm. And in just a few moments he would put all of this behind him.

****

Maggie Martin was already in the control room. She engaged the main monitor and with a snap pulled the images into midair. She was in no mood to sit so she would evaluate the system on her feet. It was generally like that for her during pre-interview inspections, too much energy to sit down, too much anticipation to get the job done and move on to the next RP. She pulled the screen wide to make it easier to review each of the channels, watching attentively as the preliminaries returned clear. The system was running at optimal configuration. “Is calibration scheduled?” she asked. The control room tech was taking a seat before the . “Three weeks,” he responded. Maggie checked the main monitor to confirm. “Looks good,” she said. Then, with a swipe of the air, she navigated out of the system into the main scheduling portal. Bertrand Steen’s name flashed on her screen along with his complete profile. She pinched the profile down and loaded it into the evaluation program. Preparations were complete. “Are we ready?” the tech asked, gazing up at the woman from his seat. Maggie nodded. From the control room the two watched another screen reserved only for the interview room. There they could see Bertrand being led in and placed in a chair. They both watched as Osten patted him on the shoulder and then exited the room. Then Maggie moved her attention to the evaluation program. She scrutinized all of Bertrand’s vitals—his blood pressure and pulse, blood type and body temperature. “Looks good,” the tech noted. “Yes,” she responded. “We’ll move forward now,” she said. She smiled at the tech and moved out of the control room to enter the interview room through a side door on the far side of the hallway. The tech watched the monitor as Maggie took her seat before Bertrand. “Mr. Steen,” she said with a smile. Bertrand smiled back. “Yes,” he answered. “Osten has apprised you of the process?”

“Yes,” he said. “Do you have questions before we get started?” “No,” he answered, trying his best to follow Osten’s advice. “Well, we’ll get started then,” she said. She pulled her handheld up to reveal a variety of questions. She didn’t really need the device for the questions though. She’d asked them so many times during her eight years in Reprogramming that they were rote now. “Is your name Bertrand Steen?” she asked. Bertrand nodded yes. “I’m sorry Mr. Steen, but the program requires a verbal response.” “Oh, sorry,” he stuttered. “Yes, I am Bertrand Steen,” he answered, shifting slightly in his seat. “Much better,” she said. “Now Mr. Steen, tell me the last time you thought about leaving Ceradon City?” “I haven’t wanted to leave CC since transformation,” he said with a grin, maintaining eye with Maggie. “When was the last time you thought about killing anyone?” she probed. “Never,” he answered, maintaining his demeanor. “And so . . . when was the last time you thought about overthrowing the Magisteria?” she asked. “I don’t think about that now,” he responded. “Do you want to kill me?” she asked with a straight face. “No.” “Do you believe Magisteria should allow the mainstream to have more control?” she asked. “No,” he said. “Are you the same man you were before coming here?”

“No,” he answered. “I’m better now,” he murmured, watching her closely. “Will you be a good citizen now?” “I will,” he stated without hesitation. “And for my last question . . . will you declare your allegiance to the Magisteria?” “I will,” he answered without pause. “Thank you. We are complete,” she said. “Please hold,” she ordered, the same time rising from her seat and exiting the room. There was nothing out of the ordinary with the interview, at least not in her mind. It had gone the same way as all the rest, just like every interview she’d ever performed over the years. So, she was immediately caught off-guard as she reentered the control room to find the word termination flashing across the main monitor. “I’ve never seen this before,” the tech moaned, stunned. Maggie moved closer to the screen. “Do you want control,” he asked, positioning the screen in her direction. “Run it again,” she spat, ordering the tech to reanalyze the interview. “Nothing,” he shouted, watching as the word continued to flash upon the screen. “Look,” he shouted, pointing at the interview screen. Two attendants had already entered the room and were escorting Bertrand away. “Stop!” Maggie screamed, rushing out and toward the interview room. There was no use, though. She had already been locked out. “Override the program!” she screamed in a panic, rushing back into the control room. The tech looked up with a frown. “It’s hopeless,” he moaned.

****

“Please come with us,” the tall attendant said as he smiled at Bertrand. “How was it,” Bertrand asked, smiling back at the man. “Did I ?” “You did wonderfully,” the smaller attendant responded. “Magnificently,” the taller man added. “One of the best interviews ever. Your results were outstanding. We’re headed to discharge now,” the man explained. The two men led Bertrand to a different door, one he hadn’t noticed while being interviewed. It wasn’t one the interviewer had used. And it wasn’t the same one he’d entered earlier. “Just this way,” the tall attendant said, motioning for the security screen to open. Bertrand walked cautiously through the doorway and immediately it closed behind him, both attendants remaining on the outside. He looked back to catch them staring through the small window. “Is this it?” he shouted. “Is this discharge?” The attendants watched closely, shaking their heads no as Bertrand Steen evaporated before their eyes.

Thanks for reading. Follow me at pmkeith.com For Bonus Material, My Mailing List at [email protected]