I’m just clocking out for the day—a useless habit, as I am given no paychecks—when the power in the store goes out. Some people check the breakers when this happens. Or walk outside to see if it’s the same for the entire block.
We just go downstairs.
In the basement of our pizzeria there are three large fridges next to one another. These hold cheese and other things we need to keep cold. They’re large enough that they cover an entire wall. Behind the fridge on the right is a loose brick. It’s not easy to get to unless your fingers are spindly…like mine. Behind that brick is a button.
When you press the button, the wall next to the fridge swings open in the cutout of a doorway. And now, you’ve found the elevator to my mother’s laboratory. One of them, anyway.
As one might expect, being a super villain requires a modicum of secrecy. For a while, my mother operated out of our tool shed, at home. Two months after her gene came to fruition, she’d come upon technology that made use of space in such a way that places could be larger on the inside. Soon our shed was the facetious shell to a warehouse sized space. Even though it never grew larger than its original twelve by twelve frame.
Not long after, my mother began her experiments. Each one required more power than the next and, as it turned out, fate placed our pizzeria in the middle of a zoning gray area. The same unique positioning that made building a walk-in cooler in our pizzeria a hassle for my father also allowed my mother to sap as much power as she wanted from the lines without any city officials ever taking notice. Conditions of her Ch05En gene, I suppose.
My father and I prepare to head down to see my mother when he realizes he forgot to tidy up the register. This is completely out of character for him, but I let it slide. Nobody is perfect. He tells me to go ahead and see if mom needs help with anything. If she doesn’t, he says we’ll go for Chinese at the “place we like.” Whatever mom needs this much power for will probably last all night, so he means just me and him. Mom doesn’t really eat any more anyway.
On the way down, I’m trying to decide if I want cashew chicken or a garlic pepper dish, but I can’t get my mind off Sabrina. I wonder when she’ll order again. I bet I can figure out a faster route to her house.
The elevator door opens to near darkness. I can hear a faint hum, but it’s so light that it almost sounds like its coming from inside of my own head. Then I hear whispers. I can’t make out what they’re saying and it’s so dark that I don’t even attempt to walk forward. All I can see are the lights from a few of the instruments strewn about the lab. I only know where my hand is because it’s attached to me. The whispers grow a little louder, so I try to focus. The hum’s frequency has gone a little higher. Like a note jumping up an octave.
It hurts.
I try to search for the button to close the door, but it’s so dark that I can’t find it. The humming is starting to feel as if it’s drilling into my skull. I can feel the stress on the blood vessels in my eyes. The words are loud enough now that I can hear them.
They’re telling me it’s over. That this is my time. They’re telling me to give up. I believe them. My legs go weak. Laying down sounds like a great idea, so I do it. I can feel pressure building in my head, but I don’t mind it any longer.
For a moment, I know that the voices want me to let go. I know I can’t feel my fingers and that I’m pretty sure my eyes are ready to burst. I know that the pain has already passed. Doing what the voices say doesn’t sound so bad. I know that the floor should be cold on my face.