C James - Dome Six

And what a spectacle it was. Every Rad was crammed with people. Most appeared to be looking for friends or family, in no particular hurry. Others ran to secure a spot on one of the upper levels, where the highest concentrations of O 2would be. When you were a kid, they told you not to do that because the exertion used too much air.

“It’s probably something with the relays,” Owen said to Aaron. “My mom’s boyfriend says they’re all corroded.”

He wasn’t sure if Byron would be called out for something like this or not. If so, he’d almost certainly wind up in one of the crawlers. In the meantime, technicians would be dispatched to check the critical system controls hidden deep in the Stores. There, they would have ample air to perform repairs even if CO 2levels were toxic up above. He wouldn’t have been surprised if they got the Exchangers humming again before the last straggler reached the Towers.

He scanned the crowd for his mom or Hideki but they were all just beige-gray ants jockeying for position. Blue uniforms emerged from the Authority and headed toward the private elevators. They’d be on 30 in just a few minutes.

The fatigue was already noticeable, which meant ground level must already be dicey. Below them, he could hear thousands of footfalls drawing closer on the metal steps.

Workers from levels 25 and up crowded in around them, all of them as worried as he was. After a lifetime of drills, it was hard to believe anything real was happening.

The whine of an electric motor across the level grew louder. Soon, a cluster of heads appeared through the cage. The door slid aside, and eight uniformed Authority workers stepped out. Everyone turned to stare at them with their own flavor of jealousy or contempt. They huddled in the far corner, looking deeply uncomfortable.

“Nap time,” Aaron noted.

“We should be quiet,” Owen said. “They need their rest.”

These Authority people were mostly office workers and low-level bureaucrats. Working there was a privilege, but they didn’t seem any happier to him. They had a few extra perks, sure, but a lot fewer friends. Of course, senior leadership probably had access to a secret bunker with 10 years’ worth of food and air.

It took nearly an hour for the last person to clear the Agora, and then there was nothing left to see. By then, the klaxons had mercifully stopped, giving the silence even more of a presence. Now they just had to trust that a small army of the best technicians were working feverishly to get the fans going again. Heat and humidity drifted over them like a blanket. The air was so stagnant that Owen could smell his own breath.

As one hour became two and three, conversations died out. People either carved out a small space for themselves on the floor or marched in place to keep their blood moving. Aaron’s back was to the railing, legs pulled tightly to his chest, dead asleep. Before long, so was Owen.

“In ’44, antibiotics no more,” the class intoned. They had even less energy than usual today, which was saying something.

Tosh hated rote-memory teaching. Mnemonic devices and such. But key dates were part of the Authority curriculum, so that’s what she did. If she didn’t, she’d wind up with another classroom monitor or wind up pushing a broom like Dek.

“And in 2053?” she asked.

“California broke free,” they said.

“Good,” she said. “What do you mean ‘broke free?’ Did it fall into the ocean?”

Vi and Dee raised their hands eagerly. They were always competing, always pushing each other. They did the same work as everyone else but with an added dash of curiosity and zest. Not many students had that. It was one thing to simply remember. To truly understand took a bit more. Tosh nodded to Dee.

“A land mass west of the San Andreas fault started to move north,” she said, with practiced diction. “It caused the Big Quake. Los Angeles and San Francisco were destroyed.”

“And in ’62?” Tosh asked.

“Southern sands blew,” the class droned.

When the southern desert called the Burn advanced northward, the millions it displaced flooded into the Northern Cities, state-sized megalopoli built around the Company. Cytocorp gave them all work, and the Cities grew even larger. The Authority’s take on history painted Cytocorp as the savior of humanity. Somehow, she doubted that.

Her head hurt and she was powerfully thirsty. Sweat ran down under her arms. She took a long drink from her bottle. Just as she set it down, a series of tones pierced the air. An O 2alarm. Her first thought was a drill, but the alarm was too urgent for that. It slowly dawned on her that it was real. Her students’ eyes widened, and they murmured to each other.

At least her headache made sense.

“O 2alarm,” Tosh said. They’d prepared for this. Everyone knew what to do. “Everyone take your bottles and follow me. Find your buddy.”

She took her own bottle and led them outside into the courtyard, where other cohorts had emerged. The students assembled themselves into two lines, each across from their buddies. Vi and Dee were at the front, right behind her.

“Is it real?” Dee asked anxiously.

“I think so,” confirmed Tosh. She gave Dee a reassuring smile. An O 2alarm most likely meant the Exchangers were offline. That meant all crawler-certified maintenance workers would be called in — including Byron.

The class made its way out onto Rad 18 and merged with the stream of second- and third-shifters who had probably just woken. She turned back frequently to check on her class. The whole upper half of Tower 8 was reserved for schoolchildren, so they didn’t have to rush. Even so, Tosh didn’t want to dawdle. She squinted to discern Exchanger fans in motion but couldn’t tell for sure. In any event, it was distressingly quiet.

Vi and Dee talked anxiously behind her.

“You think they’ll call your dad?” Vi asked.

“I know they will,” Dee said.

Tosh could hear the fear in her voice. Dee was a strong girl, but she hadn’t been in this position before. None of them had. Byron’s typical workday involved fixing broken pipes or cleaning gunk from the condensation collectors. Nothing like this. Only a few months had passed since the young worker had crashed through the roof of their school. Now he’d be up there, too.

The Agora was pure chaos. Some hunted for friends or family in the crowd. Others appeared lost, as though they’d forgotten their assigned muster points. It had been a couple years since the last drill, which had gone smoothly. But faced with an actual crisis, all that went out the window. The whole thing had an everyone-for-themselves feel that unnerved her.

“Stay together!” she yelled back, silently counting the pairs. Twenty-two, plus the trio of weird kids at the end. Good. She turned back to look at Dee. She did her best to appear calm, but it wasn’t working.

Tosh reached the bottom of the wide steps and ushered her students up. Dee stuck close to her side, never letting go of Vi’s hand. Once the trio passed, she put her hand on Dee’s shoulder and guided her in behind the parade of students, who now joined younger kids from Schools 3 and 4.

The air already felt oppressive. It freshened a bit as they climbed, but the crowds of teachers and children all panting around her seemed to cancel it out. As they passed level 10, she found herself short of breath.

“Are you okay, Miss Y?” Vi asked.

“I’m great,” Tosh said, shaking her bottle to confirm it was only about half full.

By the time they reached level 24, Tosh thought she might actually die. Mercifully, the level supervisor hooked the chain across the steps that would’ve taken them to 25.