Sneak Peak:

Prologue

May 2010

The New York University Environmental science class, Limits of the Earth: Issues in Human Ecology, had finished their final presentations. According to class conclusions, at the current rate of consumption, the Earth would run out of resources in the next 25 to 100 years. If not for air space, viable land and CO² levels had already exceeded the limits; and in a matter of years, the population decline would show it. As is 9 billion people on one planet was simply too many.

Unfortunately, the girl saw no reasonable solution and the radical ideas of her classmates could hardly be called “solutions” at all.  Anxious to be free from the confines of small room, the girl smirked to herself at her classmates. In what strange alternate universe did they think Americans would ever accept not showering daily as a feasible option of conservation? Water consumption? She snorted inelegantly. Hygiene is a quality impressed upon us from a young age. She was hardly a reckless consumer, but one must admit to multiple showers a day when the need arose. Finally. Finally. The clock hand showed quarter past eleven, she gathered her things and left the last class of her college career. Rather than dwell on the unsatisfied questions she dared not ask in that room, she shook out her reddish-brown hair and put on the pink Ray-Bans she favored. I mean really, what could a bunch of dorky, eco-friendly, twenty-somethings do in such a situation anyway?

Chapter 1

Some Years Later

            The immaculate hallway was silent besides the sharp footsteps that strode down the hall. The silver doors on either side shone brightly in the fluorescent light. At the end of the hall, the footsteps stalled, waiting for the green light in the sliding portal. The locked entrance whisked open and the footsteps continued until the doors slid shut again. The hallway, empty once again, echoed silently.

            Through the sliding door, the footsteps continued into one of the many exam rooms in The Lab.  The feet stopped beside the experiment strapped to the cold, hard table

“What happened?” the voice demanded.

“A minor complication, Director, the experiment failed when no signs of additional strength showed. We applied the beam twice and still nothing. The body can take no more and needs rest now,” the head scientist said.

“Are you sure he is resting? Experiment 10061204501-21 do you hear me?”

No response met the Director’s inquiries.

“Dom. Wake. Up.”

The man on the table opened his eyes with a smile, “well all you had to do is ask, Director.” Even strapped to a table, Dom’s typical roguish smile could make a girl’s heart beat faster. Unfortunately, he was wasting such natural charm on The Director and a room full of scientists.

“Release Experiment 10061204501-21 and escort him back to his quarters.” The command floated back to Dom over a stiff shoulder, as the Director left the room. The scientists jumped to do as they were told, while still keeping as much distance as possible between themselves and Dom—an incredibly difficult feat when releasing someone from a table.

            The guards fell in behind him as Dom stood from the table and gestured toward the door, “boys? Shall we?” The two guards followed Dom back through the silent hallway; the anxious eyes peering through the small window in each silver door fell back as soon as they passed. Satisfied that all was well, for another day.

            Dom’s shoulders sagged in relief with the hiss of the door closing on his cell, mostly alone at last. Sure, they can still see inside, but he couldn’t see them. And that makes all the difference.  Pacing to the small couch set up in front of his TV, Dom pondered just what the hell this experiment was supposed to have done. He didn’t feel any different. He didn’t have a mirror in his room, but as far as he could tell, nothing looked different either. Oh Well he thought. Best to let it go until something comes up. Bored and alone, Dom spent hours staring at the blank TV screen, until he finally fell asleep on the couch.

           

*             *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *            *

Two doors down that immaculate hallway, Alina (aka Experiment 10061204215-01) paced her room. Door to wall, and back again. Something was wrong. She could feel it deep inside her. Wall to door. Something bad was going to happen. Door to wall. Worse than the usual bad things that happened in The Lab. And the feeling was centered on the man two doors down. Experiment 10061204501-21. Dominic. They didn’t want her to know his name. They didn’t even know his full name, only calling him Dom in the most difficult circumstances. 

But she did know it. Just as she knew something bad was about to happen to him. It was the weirdest thing: she’d been sitting on her couch reading when she must have fallen asleep. She had seen Dom sleeping on his couch; it was as if she was in the room with him. But that was impossible, they weren’t allowed in any rooms but their own and the ones they experimented in. Yet there she was, bathed in shadows, watching him sleep. Then all of sudden it was like pieces of him started falling off. She rushed forward to the couch but he was gone. Frantic, she didn’t want to call out and alert any of the guards, Alina searched Dom’s room, the living room, the bathroom, closet and then finally the bedroom. Which is where she found him, asleep as he had been in the other room, only now he was in bed. Bizarre. She withdrew from his bedroom, not willing to disturb him, even in her dream. When she woke up the lights in Alina’s room had dimmed as they do when the room is empty, and she was lying in the shadow, stretched out on the floor next to her couch.

What does this mean? she wondered. If this dream was true– which admittedly, they often were­–The Director and scientists couldn’t know about it. He was supposed to be stronger. Not able to dissolve in his sleep. She needed to protect him, and tell him. She needed to keep his secret, as she had kept hers, from the scientists. 

© Epiphany Davis

the rest is still UNwritten