Kristi Helvig: Burn Out

I still checked each day for signs of life on my GlobalNet page, Surviving Burn Out. I used to write a daily entry but had since been recycling my original post:

Hello, fellow burn out survivors. Congratulations on still being here. I thought I’d share what I know about how we got to this desolate state. If you already know all this, or if science hurts your brain, just skip to the comments and talk to me. Please .

It started three hundred years ago when a world-ending rock hurtled toward Earth. In a last-ditch effort to save our planet from the largest asteroid ever recorded, the then-government tried a crazy idea. The idea worked. Sort of. They successfully hit the asteroid with a rocket and diverted it .

Dad said the problem was where it ended up. The huge, moon-sized mass was accidentally sent straight into the sun, which would have been fine, except this particular asteroid contained more dark matter than scientists had seen before. An unexpected reaction occurred and the sun kicked into hyperdrive. It began burning hydrogen like crazy, and before anyone could comprehend what had happened, the helium in the core was exhausted. It went downhill from there. Anyway, Dad was the final scientist tapped by the Consulate to see if there was any possibility of reversing the burn out. Turns out there wasn’t. Even supersmart scientist guys can’t outsmart Mother Nature. If you’re reading this, feel free to share your survival tips. Or, you know, just say hi. Anyone else out there tired of sunsuits?

Keep on living—Tora

I had no subscribers and had yet to see a comment. If everyone weren’t dead, I’d take it personally.

I stared at the Infinity. It reminded me of the first and last time I encountered an actual Consulate member. We’d been living in the pod city and I’d begged Dad to take me with him to work one day. I must have been nine or so at the time, and needed a break from the monotony of the pod. Visitors weren’t usually allowed into his office building, but Dad gave in to my whining. We climbed in his cruiser and took off through the pod city toward the Consulate headquarters. All I could see aside from other cruisers were the rows of pods. Even though we lived in a city, I rarely saw other people unless they were going from their cruiser into their pod homes and vice versa. My sister was the only renegade who ran outside whenever she could.

I’d never been to the center of the city and stared wide-eyed at a large electronic billboard that flashed Consulate messages like “Pumping Air Because We Care.” We neared the main Consulate building and slowed at the gated entry, where a three-dimensional virtual keyboard popped out of thin air. Dad punched in a code and the gate swung open. We parked the cruiser and walked to the building entrance where another keyboard appeared.

I frowned. “Why do they need so much security?”

Dad punched in more numbers and pulled me inside. “It’s not safe to talk about it right now. Just don’t draw attention to yourself.”

I stared at him quizzically but kept silent. What wasn’t safe? I mean we were inside the Consulate building so I couldn’t imagine a safer place in the whole city. The Consulate protected us and provided air. Maybe they were worried about people breaking in to the building and stealing things—it would certainly explain their discouragement of visitors.

The halls and floor shone as if everything had just been polished. I stepped carefully, afraid I might slip, but my shoes held their grip on the glossy surface. We passed several others in the hallway who wore badges similar to my father’s. A few nodded at him, and passed cursory glances in my direction.

“There sure isn’t a lot of chitchat here, is there?” I observed.

“Shhhh. We’re almost there.” He guided me around a corner.

The feminine voice seemed to come from everywhere. “Please keep your badges visible at all times. Help the Consulate help you to stay safe.” It took me a second to realize it was an automatic recording projected through a sound system.

We stopped at a small door and Dad waved his hand over a lock. The door slid open and we stepped inside a small, perfectly square room. It was as blindingly white as the hallway. The door closed soundlessly behind us.

I stared at the stark walls. “They’re not big on color here, huh?”

Dad sighed. “They don’t want people distracted from their work. Color and artwork is a violation of code 203b.”

“Geez. That seems like a dumb rule.”

Dad put a finger to his lips but smiled as he pointed at a small device in the ceiling. “All the offices are monitored to ensure adequate compliance with assigned work duties.”

I stared at the small object above us. “So they can see me anyway. They know I’m here.”

“Yes, having outsiders in the facility is a violation of code 417c. I’m sure I’ll get a documented warning about this.” He didn’t sound very upset.

I hadn’t realized the codes were so strict or that he had risked a job warning. “Dad, I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble.”

Dad pulled up a three-dimensional keyboard and logged in. “No, it’s time for you to see this … see how things are.” He waved a hand in my direction. “I need to get a few things done and then I want to show you something.”

I paced around the bare room for a while as he typed away. A strange pent-up energy overcame me and I hopped up and down several times.

Dad looked over with a frown. “What are you doing?”

I kept running. “I feel weird … like overly energetic or something.”

Dad’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, that. Must be the extra oxygen they pump in here.”

I stopped running. Oxygen was a rare commodity. I stared at Dad.

“They think additional oxygen keeps employees more energized and alert during the workday. Based on your spontaneous workout, I’d say they’re onto something.”

His eyes stopped me before I asked the obvious: Where did they get extra air?

The voice appeared out of nowhere again. “Mr. Reynolds, please report to Mr. Davis, and bring your guest with you.”

Crap. They’d definitely noticed me. It couldn’t be good that they wanted to see us.

Dad stood and motioned for me to join him. I realized I was sweating and not just from my run.

I gripped his arm. “Are we in trouble?” I whispered.

“Don’t worry. We’re fine.” He waved his hand over the lock and the office door slid open.

Why did he sound so sure of himself? Didn’t he realize that they could fire him? Without a job, we couldn’t afford to stay in the pod city. We could be kicked out like the others, which would mean certain death.

I stuck by his side as we moved down several more hallways before we came to the end of a hall with an oversized door. The door slid open without any help from us.

“Come in, Micah, come in.” A large man sat behind an equally large desk and waved my father in. A thin woman with frosted hair and dark lipstick sat in a chair to his side. She had the air of an entitled assistant. She gave me a tight-lipped smile and folded her hands in her lap. They both wore bright orange badges with Consulate stamped on them in dark black lettering. It contrasted with Dad’s small white employee badge.

Dad sat in one of two empty chairs in front of them, so I parked myself in the other one.

The man’s booming voice rang out again. “And who do we have here?” His eyes appraised me and something about his look made my stomach cringe.

My dad laughed. “Allan, you really don’t see the resemblance? This is my oldest daughter, Tora. She is very interested in the work I do and wanted to see it firsthand.”

“Yes, sir,” I chimed in. “It’s my dream to work for the Consulate one day.” The lie came easily.