C James - Dome Six

The interior cylinder rotated and dumped him out onto the floor of the Nexus. The circular room was about 10 meters across. The full computing power of the Dome was submerged in a roiling pool of liquid coolant. Blue UV lights from deep below kept it free of microbes. The color made it resemble a sort of underground lagoon, black columns of processors and storage submerged like an ancient temple swallowed by the sea.

Luther slid the special sunglasses down over his eyes and the blue light turned to a yellow-orange. Otherwise it gave him a headache. He stuck his hand inside the shiny terminal at the center and a thin needle took a sample of his DNA. It was the only such security in the whole city, which suggested its expense.

“Good morning, Director,” IDA said. “Connecting you to Cytocorp actual.”

A few moments later came the familiar androgynous voice. “Hello, Director Downing.”

If it was AI, it was convincing. He never knew if he was talking to a person or a program but didn’t really care.

“What do you want?” he said.

“We’re seeing elevated cortisol levels across the city. Is there a problem?”

“A maintenance worker fell through the roof of a school cafeteria,” Luther said with a sigh. “And a woman died in the FPC a few days later. Everyone’s a little on edge.”

“The data suggests a longer trend.”

“What do you want me to say? The Dome’s going to shit.”

Years ago, when he came down here and begged IDA to help, he feared what might happen. When the system opened a connection to the Company, it seemed like a miracle. It meant they weren’t alone! But they never answered his questions about the outside. They only told him what to do.

The voice paused before continuing. “You must maintain order, Director. Our dataset is incomplete.”

Data, data, data. All that mattered to Cytocorp was their precious data. What could possibly be left for them to measure? “Screw your data! People blame us for what’s happening!” he shouted, his voice bouncing around the room.

“Calm down, Director. Do we need to remind you what’s at stake?”

Nearly 20 years had passed since he begged them to help Julia. To protect their unborn child from Dome law and her from losing her mind. Sometimes they let her speak to him, though he could never quite be sure it was really her. Their daughter would be 19 now.

“Let me talk to Julia.”

“That’s not on the table.”

“I’ve done everything you asked!” he said. “And I’ll continue to. But I want to talk to Julia. Please.”

Several seconds passed, during which he couldn’t be sure they were still there. But then a voice he barely recognized came on. It was always raspier than he remembered. The Julia he knew was 28 and pregnant. This Julia was pushing 50. He doubted she would even remember his face.

“Luther?” she said.

“Hey baby,” he replied. Relief flooded over him. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“The Fifth Epoch is coming soon,” she said hopefully.

“Yes it is.”

“After that, you can come to me in the city. I have so much to tell you!”

“That’s the plan,” he said.

As months became years, and years decades, he no longer believed it was even possible to fulfill his end of the bargain with Cytocorp. He’d done some terrible things at their behest. But the promise of a reunion once he helped the Dome limp across the finish line was a receding horizon. The only reason he still bothered with them was for the chance to hear her voice.

“We’re near the end, Luther. We’re finally going to be a family.”

“I hope so.” He wanted to believe it more than anything. “I’ll see you soon, beautiful.”

A pause, then the androgynous voice returned: “Satisfied?”

“That’s the last thing I am,” he grumbled.

“Our dataset is nearly complete. Once it is, we will honor our agreement.”

His mind raced ahead without him. He envisioned getting on the train below the Dome and taking it through the Burn at high speed. It would bear him to Pacifica and she’d be there, waiting, perhaps with their daughter at her side. He tried to push the fantasy away but couldn’t. Some version of had it played across his mind a thousand times.

But after nearly 20 years, it was hard to have any faith the end would come. It seemed more likely the Dome would collapse first.

“Why the Fifth Epoch?” Luther demanded. “Why not now?”

“For the same reason you used the Fourth to get Julia out. It’s the only distraction that will suffice.”

“Why does that matter if we’re all getting out of here?” Luther asked.

“Getting everyone out was not our agreement, Director.”

It wasn’t. He’d only assumed.

“I thought your technology would save everyone. That it would finally allow us to survive in the Burn.”

“And it will. The Domes will be dealt with in due time. You’re welcome to remain there.”

“No,” he said quickly. “No, I understand. Fifth Epoch. I’ll be on the train. But I don’t know how you expect me to hold this place together.”

“You’ll think of something,” said the voice, and it was gone.

Owen and Aaron took their scheduled break and ate their meager lunch. Even after just three months in the Towers, Owen’s will began to fade. Mindless work made for mindless workers, no matter how much they tried to stay sharp.

As he ate, he noticed that the sound of his chewing was oddly loud. Conversations from across the floor were more distinct than usual. The squeaky metallic rumble of the conveyor was clear as a bell. Something was different.

It was too quiet.

He rose and looked up toward the underside of the Dome, only about 30 meters overhead. The Exchangers ran constantly, a droning buzz you didn’t even notice. But the grimy fan blades on the one closest to him sat motionless. Same for the next closest one.

“Um, Aaron?” Owen asked. “I think we have a problem.”

A moment later, klaxons throughout the city pierced the silence, a series of urgent tones. It meant that O 2levels near the ground were dropping fast, and that every citizen should immediately make their way to the place with the highest concentration of oxygen.

The Towers.

As soon as the O 2alarm sounded, all work stopped and the conveyors clanged to a halt. The crew on level 29 rushed to the railing to verify what they already knew. No one had ever seen this happen for real. It was always just a drill.

“All right, people, listen up,” said Freddy in his gravelly baritone. Part of him relished this opportunity. “Your job is easy. Move up to 30 and get comfy, because the entire city’s headed this way and we need to make room. Authority will take the elevators up to the cage. Don’t embarrass me. Now move!”

“Of course they get to take the elevator straight to the top,” Owen whispered to Aaron. “They probably have a little nap area.”

Aaron chuckled. Half the crew was still stuffing multimeal in their faces as they climbed the steps to 30.

Apart from shuffling feet and muffled conversations, you couldn’t hear anything at all. In another context it might’ve been peaceful, but it was just eerie. There was no guarantee that the Exchangers would restart. If they didn’t, there was nothing to do but retreat to the Stores and wait to run out of air. Plus, the longer they were there, the more plants they’d have to eat. No plants meant no oxygen.

Freddy brought up the rear. Their crew was already pressed to the far railing, watching people flow into the Agora from all directions. Six crews could fit on one level with room to spare. Each person had an arm’s-length area around them if they spread out evenly, but they crowded against the inner railing to see the spectacle.