Stanley's eyes slowly crept open. He looked over to Emily who was still sleeping. He sat up on the side of his bed and rested his eyes. Soon after, he puffed air out of his nose and cleared his throat.
He looked down at his mattress before lifting it. Under it were the three sticks and the plastic tube. He stared at them with his tired eyes. He stood up, walked over to his closet, and changed into his work clothes. He grabbed the apron off the rack as he walked out.
The street was empty and the lights were still dimmed. Almost all the domiciles were dark except for a few. He walked past all of them and went to the town square. Mr. Albertson was sitting on a bench.
"Hello there, Stanley," said Mr. Albertson. "I see you're a bit early today."
"Hello Mr. Albertson," Stanley said. He looked up at the clock that read six. "You're early too."
"Ever since we started digging, I've had trouble containing my excitement," said Mr. Albertson. He patted on the bench seat beside him.
"I was going to get a pill. Would you want one?" said Stanley.
"Oh that would be grand."
Stanley walked over to the vending machine and put two coins in. He received two pills and two small cups of water. He held the pills in one hand and the cups in the other and returned to the bench.
Mr. Albertson extended both hands and took a cup of water. Stanley handed him a pill.
"Thank you," Mr. Albertson said.
"No problem."
They both swallowed their pills and drank their water.
Stanley took Mr. Albertson's cup and disposed of it in the recycle slot. Then he walked over and sat on the bench.
"What has gotten you up this early?" said Mr. Albertson.
"I've slept a bit early the other night," Stanley said. "I would usually sleep in, but today just felt different."
"Ah, you’re having trouble containing your excitement as well. Know that you're well not alone. The thought of reaching the surface had grasped my mind ever since the first day. I could never truly find rest. But here, in the morning, I am alone, and I can think freely."
"Would you call it daydreaming?" said Stanley.
Mr. Albertson chuckled. "Yes, I suppose. They are fantasies, really. Grand pictures I would paint since I was a child. My great--grandmother used to share her stories. She was a young girl when the first settlers moved down here. And her words were of true beauty. She would describe the trees, the seas, and even the stars that would shine at night."
"Like the trees in the atrium? And the stars in the observatory?"
"No. The trees we have are imitations. The stars we have are only light. Above, the trees are many, not in neat rows and not kept under constant care. They are clustered and grow without boundaries, in fields and meadows all around. The stars are real places, far away from our Earth. They are burning balls of fire that live and die in robust ecstasy. These are images, ideas that we will never fully understand."
"You seem to know the most about the surface," Stanley said. "No one else has ever said such things. I've never been told of anything like that."
"Oh yes, I know a lot. I used to visit the archives every day when I was a young boy. I read our history backwards, hoping that I would read up to the origin of life. But as I grew older and had family to look after, I could not find time to read. But I realized that I would never be able to read that far back in ten lifetimes!"
"Really?"
"Yes, our history stems far. But nobody visits the archives anymore," Mr. Albertson said. "It is so seldom used that even the maintenance system refrains from cleaning it."
"I've never visited it myself," Stanley said.
"I suggest you find time to do so. That is, unless we dig out of here sooner." Mr. Albertson leaned in and said, "How close are you?"
"We expect to dig out within two days," Stanley said.
Mr. Albertson smiled and smacked his lips. "Well then, no need visited them. We'll have the real thing soon."
The two sat there for a while and stared up at the dark, gray, metal ceiling.
A few hours later, Mr. Roberts and a few council members approached from the domiciles.
"Mr. Barrett, it is nice to see you early," he said. "Mr. Albertson, you’re early as usual."
"Good morning," said Stanley. He waved at the council members who nodded in response. "I didn't realize that so many people woke up this early."
"It's only been like this from the past few days," said Mr. Roberts. "The tremendous progress you and Victor have made has made some of us restless."
"What are you going to do now?" said Stanley.
"We are thinking of pushing some of the dirt into the lake," said Mr. Roberts. "Once we drill through, we'll need a way for the women and children to cross. Simply filling the lake won't do, but it's a start."
"No good sitting here," said Mr. Albertson. He stood up and walked over to the broken wall.
Stanley and Mr. Roberts followed. Mr. Albertson had already joined the others in shifting the dirt from around the tunnels to the other side of lake. But the pile had grown large. With his bare hands, Stanley pushed the pile farther down, along the lake and patted it with his feet to spread it evenly. Mr. Roberts helped.
"It sure would be nice to have some sort of tool to help us here," said Mr. Roberts. "Look how dirty my hands have become." He went over to Stanley and showed him his hands. Dirt caked within the wrinkles and even stuck deep within his nails.
"There is no time to worry about your pretty hands, Mr. Roberts," said Mr. Albertson. "You've got more coming your way." He pushed another mound of dirt into the lake.
After hours of moving dirt, Victor, Ailey, and the other council members arrived.
"You're an excited bunch," said Victor. "It's kind of disturbing to see how committed you are."
"Are you not excited? Not even a little bit?" said Mr. Roberts.
"The lethal weapons we've found stamp out any excitement," said Victor. "I believe that is the rational thought to be had, the thought of a normal man."
"What is normal now?" said Mr. Albertson. "This is a new time. Emotions will fluster and change as it always has."
Everyone was silent.
Finally, Mr. Roberts said, "The lake has been filled enough. Let the dig commence."
Everyone went over to their tunnels and equipped their gear. Victor took his drill and proceeded to climb the tunnel. Stanley followed.
Victor climbed up the ledges at a fairly timed pace, but he was still not as masterful as Stanley. Every few ledges, Victor would pause to take a breath, and Stanley would wait patiently, at one point, sighing.
Victor reached the top. He was slow to secure his feet in the ledges, and it took him a while to withdraw his drill. He even closed his visor lazily.
"Don't do this to spite me," Stanley said. "We are almost out. Let us start and be done with it."
Victor aimed his drill and began in that instant. It took him a few minutes to adjust himself, but when he found his balance, he proceeded to drill with amazing fortitude. He dug his drill deeper in and progressed up a ledge every few seconds. The dirt fell too quickly and in large amounts. Even Stanley had trouble managing it that he had to say, "Slow down. I cannot keep up." But Victor did not relent. He gave a small smirk and continued upward.
Stanley did what he could to trudge through, but his load piled to tremendous amounts that he fell a few ledges behind Victor.
"Slow your pace," Stanley said. "We may actually find some trouble."
But Victor continued on.
"Did you not hear me?"
Victor did not respond.
Stanley rushed to push the dirt that had buried his legs. He pushed some down, but more quickly fell to fill in the gaps, and surely his arms trembled. The dirt eventually enveloped his legs, up to his waist. All Stanley could do was to keep the dirt from piling. But he could not remove it in time. The dirt started to form around Victor's feet, and gradually rose.
Victor stopped drilling and looked down at his legs. "Why
are my legs stuck?"
"Did you not hear my warnings?" Stanley said.
"Only once."
"Well look what happened."
"Just get out of there," Victor said.
Stanley rested his arms on the dirt and took a deep breath before digging his hands into the dirt. He tightened his chest and pushed the dirt down. There was no noticeable shift, but little bits of dirt rolled down, until it gathered and slid down in one wave. Stanley’s legs were caught within the dirt and he slid with it. He reached out and dug his hands into the ledges. The dirt slowed, so he wriggled his legs, but his left hand released its grasp from the ledge. The sudden shift of his body caused the rest of the balanced dirt to break. It slid down past Stanley’s face, chest, and legs, all the way down the tunnel. Stanley shot his left arm upward and curled his fingers around a ledge. The last of the dirt fell and he repositioned his feet. He rested his head and panted.
"A true test of strength, that was," Victor said.
"Shut up."
"Well then, let’s get on it." Victor brought his drill up and dug again, slower this time, but he stopped soon after.
"What is this?" Victor said. He slowly lowered his drill, but a spiky sheet of circular metal fell and clung just on the tip of his drill. The dirt around it cleared to reveal its full size: almost the width of the tunnel itself. The serrated edges dangled close to his face. "No, no, no," he uttered.
Stanley looked up. "What’s the matter?"
"Stay down, all the way down, you hear me?" Victor tightened his grip on the drill and quickly pulled it, throwing the sheet down the tunnel. It flew past Stanley, who had planted himself flat in the ground.
Stanley looked down as the sheet slid.
"Look out!" called Victor. Both he and Stanley held their breaths and listened quietly. Moments later, a screech echoed up their tunnel.
Stanley flipped to his back and slid down and Victor followed. They reached the bottom and found Mr. Roberts on the floor with his hands above him, cut and bleeding all over.
"Get this man to the vending machines!" said Stanley. A few men walked over and carried Mr. Roberts away. They walked past the dirt lake, where the metal sheet had imbedded itself into. They took him out to town square where the crowd immediately saw him and gasped. Women shrieked and children were taken away. The men stepped forward and poked their heads out.
Stanley ran ahead and withdrew a pill and water from the vending machine. He returned to Mr. Roberts, who uttered, "I can’t."
Stanley forced the pill down his throat and poured the water in.
Mr. Roberts swallowed and coughed. The blood retracted into his wounds and the flesh around them sealed. He was filled with breath. He composed himself and calmly stood up. The crowd looked at him, and he looked back. He turned to Stanley and Victor and said, "What hurt me?"
"Did you not see it?" Victor said.
"So much dirt came down all of a sudden. We were only focused on getting it all out."
"Oh yes. Victor wouldn’t maintain a steady pace," Stanley said.
"Stay on point here," Victor cut in. "The thing was another weapon. It was like nothing we've ever come across."
"Is it inside?" said Mr. Roberts.
"Yes," said Victor.
Ailey ran out from the cave and said, "Mr. Roberts, we need you quickly. Mr. Albertson is hurt." Ailey ran back inside.
The crowd mumbled and looked to each other worriedly. Mr. Roberts ran into the cave. Stanley, Victor, and the council members followed.
Ailey and a few men were at a tunnel. They were all shouting, "Push now Mr. Albertson!"
"What happened?" said Mr. Roberts.
"Mr. Albertson was digging ahead of me," said Ailey. "I insisted that I should drill, but he brushed me off. He had something fall on him, something big."
"Why didn’t you carry him out?" said Victor.
"The thing was in the way," Ailey said.
"Everybody, stand back," said one of the men. "I can see it coming down." All the men scattered from the tunnel as a large white object tumbled out and crashed deep into the dirt floor. Everybody stared at it with wide eyes.
"What is that?" said Stanley.
Victor approached and touched it. "I don’t know," he said. "It’s smooth." He knocked on it. "And it’s hard enough to kill someone."
A faint wheeze came from the tunnel. Ailey jumped to attention and ran right in. Later, he emerged with Mr. Albertson in his arms.
Mr. Albertson was covered in dirt. The entire right side of his chest caved inward and his legs curved sideways. His eyes slowly opened and shut while his mouth twitched, releasing the occasional moan. One of those moans managed to resemble, "Pill."
"Don’t move, Mr. Albertson," said Ailey. "We’ll carry you there." He heaved and lifted the frail old man and dashed across the dirt lake and exited the cave. The other council members followed as a wave of wails exploded from the crowd outside.
Out in town square, Ailey was on his knees, caressing Mr. Albertson. Buckner ran over with a pill and a cup of water. Ailey forced the pill down Mr. Albertson’s throat and poured the water after.
A loud snap and several smaller ones came from within Mr. Albertson’s disfigured body. His distorted muscles twisted and his bones morphed. He gasped, wheezed, and wailed in pain as his bent body parts refitted themselves. He lay on the floor as his body stretched normally. He gasped as he sat up and faced a quiet and visibly shocked crowd.
"Look what happened to him," Victor said. "He almost died to one of those weapons."
"No, no," said Mr. Albertson. He stood up and waved Victor down. "I’m fine."
"You are not fine. If these dormant weapons alone could inflict such damage, imagine their potential in the hands of an intelligent enemy."
"If they hurt us, then we can simply have our pills," said Stanley.
"What if we aren’t able to? What if our route to the pills is cut? Scarier yet, what if they kill us then and there?"
Many in the crowd covered their ears and dispersed, while some concerned people remained and listened.
Mr. Roberts raised his hand. "That is enough. If the council members are so fervent for a new vote, then I will call one to order."
Victor, Ailey, and most of the other council members grumbled in approval. Stanley, Mr. Roberts, Mr. Albertson, and a few others looked on sadly.
Everyone returned their gear and made their ways home. As Mr. Albertson went toward his domicile, he said to Stanley, "I am sorry. I should have been careful."
"No, Mr. Albertson, you have no fault here."
Mr. Albertson patted Stanley and said, "It looks like you might have to visit the archives after all."
"Yes," said Stanley. He reached into his pockets and his eyes lit up. "I just might have to." He turned away from Mr. Albertson and rushed to the streets. He passed the domiciles until he reached his home. Emily was waiting outside.
"Sweetie," she said. "I didn’t get to see you this morning."
"Hello darling," Stanley said as he kissed her forehead. "I’m sorry. I was in a bit of a rush." He passed Emily and went inside.
"Stanley, are you in a hurry? What’s going on?"
Stanley grabbed his bag and went over to the bed. He lifted his mattress and found the metal sticks and the plastic tube.
"Stanley," Emily said eyes wide and standing back. "What are those?"
Stanley stuffed the sticks and tube into his bag.
"Stanley? Answer me."
He shuffled up and said, "They’re tools, darling. They’re merely tools. I know they are." He brought his ragged bag to his chest and stumbled out of his domicile.
NINE