C. Adams - Version 2.0

“Uh… about what, now?” Birdie was slightly confused as she was still processing this information.

“Being burned to death. If it’s to the degree of cremation, there is no coming back from that. At least, not to our knowledge. There have been occasions where we were too late to retrieve the body. Early enough before regeneration would’ve started, mind you. Some people waste no time putting deceased family members to rest.”

Birdie and Brian sat in silence for a few moments as Kale took a long drink from her coffee cup. “I guess it’s a good thing we waited,” Birdie said a bit quietly…

Brian led Birdie back to their apartment, through the tunnels. These tunnels were a lot bigger, of course. Aside from the obvious fact that they were underground, it was the same set up as it had been up top. The tunnels were wide and endless. Each standing structure that had been lowered into the ground had its own second foundation in the tunnels, with the lowering structure doubling as a support system for the high ceilings. Birdie felt a little better that she wasn’t having to duck as she walked. The ceilings were at least thirty feet high.

In the blue-tinted lighting, the copper-colored metal and gears took on a more dazzling look. They seemed out of place in the real world. She’d never seen anything like it, outside of fantasy movies she’d seen in her childhood.

“This place is kind of insane,” Birdie commented as they walked.

“I thought we’d already established that.”

“I mean, other than the obvious. The way this place was built, is what I’m talking about. Did the military build it? I know the debriefing area is an old submarine. And I get why it’s separate from everything else. But it seems so out of place compared to all of this,” she waved her hand around at the buildings.

“The military built the tunnels,” Brian told her. “That much I know. It was a lot different before they started constructing for life up top. Apparently there’s this guy, a First-gen, that was this brilliant scientist and mechanical engineer. He came up with the design for everything, and helped build the place. He created the energy system, too. Rumor has it, he was a bit claustrophobic as well,” he smirked. “The military’s system wasn’t adequate enough for his taste, and so he decided to fix it.”

“How do you know so much about that?” Birdie queried.

“Research,” he replied. “Sometimes when I’m writing about my own fictitious world, I tend to forget about the fact that I live pretty much in one, myself. I like to learn about this place; what they let us, anyway. A lot of it is very hush hush, top secret.”

“Why?”

“I think it has to do with whatever those military guys came over for. For safety reasons, I guess. They don’t tell us everything, because they fear if any of us run away, we might be a danger to the rest of us.”

“Makes sense,” she nodded as they continued to walk. “What was his name? The engineer…”

“It’s listed as Rowland ‘Rollo’ Oswyn.”

“That doesn’t sound like an American name,” she commented.

“He wasn’t American,” he confirmed, glancing at her. “That’s the first thing I noticed, too. So I dug a little deeper and discovered he’d come to America with his family as a young man. He was a brilliant inventor and engineer and they recruited him for the military as a strategist, for his renowned genius. His interest in science had him crawling all over the experimental serum, insisting he be part of the trial.”

“There’s public information about all of this?” Birdie looked doubtful.

“Not… really,” he replied. “Remember that friend I told you about?”

“The one that was arrested?”

“That’s the one,” he half-grinned. “He discovered this after years of prying with drunken First-gens on many lonely Friday nights.”

“Something tells me you carried on that legacy after he left.”

“What ever would give you that idea?” he raised a brow, a smirk playing on his lips.

Birdie let out an amused laugh. “So… Oswyn. I take it he’s one of the First-gens that is no longer with us?”

“No one seems to know the answer to that,” Brian told her as they came into view of their apartment building. “Rumor has it he left with the Defectors. But his interests seemed so loyal to this place, it doesn’t seem like that would be the case. He might’ve been killed. Like permanently.”

“Assassinated?”

“Who knows,” he replied with a sigh as they reached their front door. “It doesn’t make much sense, though, to kill off someone who was so important to this place.”

“No, it doesn’t,” she agreed, then was overpowered by a yawn.

“Oh don’t start that,” Brian chided, then was hit with a yawn of his own. “Damn you!”

“Sorry!” she laughed. “I’m kind of exhausted.”

“Your first day top-side on Pritchard’s Island has been an exceptional one. And you just got a huge promotion, as temporary as it might be. I think you should probably get a little sleep before it starts all over again in the morning.”

As they stepped into the apartment, a realization dawned on Birdie. “Oh hell,” she shook her head.

“What?” Brian turned in question.

“Reesy and Emmett. I’m supposed to shop with them tomorrow. God, what if they were hurt today? How can I find out? Are there phones?” she looked worriedly around the room for signs of such a device.

“Alright, first of all,” Brian said in a calming tone, “Civilians aren’t really allowed, nor do they have reason to be around the landing strip. They’re probably fine.” He watched as Birdie swallowed and nodded. “Secondly, no phones. Too easy to slip up and call the outside world. But we do have a communication device for anywhere on our part of the island.” He walked over to the couch and moved a few things off of the coffee table, revealing an embedded console that Birdie wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.

The coffee table was a rectangular box made of the same type of material she’d seen on the buildings. The top’s surface was so smooth it almost looked like glass. But when Brian pressed a brass button, and a panel opened up, it was clear to her that it wasn’t.

“PICS, it’s Brian Farran,” he said. Birdie glanced around the room for a moment, in slight confusion.

“Good evening, Brian Farran. How can I connect you?” a child’s voice sounded from the console.

“Teresa Jane, please,” he said.

“Contacting. Please hold.” Brian motioned for Birdie to come sit beside him, as they waited.

“PICS?” she questioned.

“Pritchard’s Island Comm System,” he explained. “Anyone you wanna contact, you can ask for through voice command. It’ll call the recipient and ask them if they’re available to take a call. If they accept, it’ll patch us through. If they don’t wanna take it, or they’re not home, it’ll give us an option to leave a video message.”

“Ah,” she nodded in understanding. “So we’ve gotta be presentable in order to make a call.”

“Well, not necessarily. There’s an audio-only option, as well. Just have to specify it to PICS.”

“Connecting now,” the voice said, finally, and a hologram screen like the one Birdie had seen at the precinct popped up over the table.

Reesy’s face came into view and Birdie suddenly felt a flush of relief. “Oh good! You’re okay,” she told her.

“Hey there, Birdie,” she waved. “Hey, Brian. Glad to see you two are okay. Crazy first day top-side, huh?”

“Definitely not dull. Have you heard from Emmett?”

“He was called in to O.S as part of a research team.”