Illustration by Resource Database
The first chamber was larger than the second. Wren heard and felt the pneumatic doors close behind them and was careful to place one foot next to the other, in a stable stance, and took hold of the handrails. They felt their boots lock onto the walkway. The loud, mechanical horn blared its single warning and clouds of thin white mist filled the room. Wren stared straight ahead but could see in the peripheral vision possible through their helmet’s visor the particles cling to their suit. In seconds they covered the visor as well.
A loud thump, and Wren gripped the handrails as the g-forces compounded in milliseconds. The sound of rushing air audible but dampened through their helmet. The visor cleared and they watched as their suit became clean, a white tornado cloud forming below and then disappearing just as quickly, another mechanical bang, their arm muscles relaxing reflexively, their boots freed.
Wren began walking as the forward doors whooshed open. Now they had to make a decision. As they entered the second, smaller chamber, the one with the red bottom suspended on a pole bolted to the walkway, they thought back across their day. Flashes of blades tearing at flesh, blood streaking across the air, faces–those faces–twisted to begin with, contorting in pain, those eyes–inhuman, lightless–still registering the darkness as it descended upon what remained of their souls.
They saw an image of a child–would you call it a child?–cowering in a shadow. Was that real? As they walked, Wren tried to recall, reconstruct the memory from a glance allowed in a single second while their autonomous movement completed its follow-through. They saw eyes, fear. Then movement further into the shadows.
It didn’t matter if it was real or not. Wren walked up to the button, removed their helmet, and slammed their hand down. A flexible tube with a small mouthpiece descended and they inhaled from it, lungs filling, brain tingling. Then, with a much gentler mechanical warning, that same gravity, this time just within her skull, something like particles being pulled down, along the sides, behind their ears, down their neck.
The next set of doors opened, and Wren walked forward, free to do the Lord’s work once again.
This is my submission for May’s IndieWeb Fiction Carnival.