The Movement

Chapter Seven - Part 7

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The white-hot sun shined brightly across the sandy landscape. Through his squinting eyes, Troy could see the end of the gray-spotted pathway ahead. There was no sign of a building, which he was sure was supposed to be there. Along the edges of the pathway he could see small brown roots sprouting up through the dry dirt, just enough so that the tiny green buds basked in the sunlight. Troy was zoned in on the infant plant’s beauty and innocence.

“Mr. Duckworth,” said President Barber, calmly.

Troy’s vision and attention was taken over by a hologram of the president’s face.

“You are deceived,” admitted President Barber.

Troy moved the president’s screen over to his left vision. His right vision viewed the barren land, mirages of water boiling up from the cracked surface as he spun for a panoramic view.

“Yes, Mr. President,” said Troy through a cotton-dry mouth. “I am deceived.”

“Turn to your left,” demanded President Barber, amused.

“Yes, sir,” replied Troy, squinting his eyes so tightly as if they were closed.

“Now,” smirked President Barber, “Look down at the ground. The dirt.”

“Yes, sir,” said Troy once again, attempting to swallow through his bone-dry throat.

“Do you see it?” asked President Barber. “Mr. Duckworth, do you see it?”

“Sir, I do not,” he mumbled in response, scraping his parched tongue across his chapped lips.

“Look closely,” said the president.

Troy leaned forward, placing his hands on each knee.

“Closer,” persisted the president.

Still leaning forward, Troy crouched to the ground.

“Now, tell me you see it,” ordered President Barber, hungry for a satisfying response.

“Wait, I...I think I...I think I see it,” said Troy, excitedly.

“Tell me what you see,” commanded President Barber.

“I see...I see...” said Troy.

“Tell me!” shouted President Barber.

“I see a rooftop,” said Troy, astonished.

“Very good, Mr. Duckworth!” congratulated the president.

The section of the pathway Troy stood on began to sink into and below the sand. He felt his ears pop, the air cooled, and silence persisted. He waited for something to happen. But he stood in absolute silence, pitch-black darkness. Suddenly, the darkness gave way to brilliant, blinding light as it penetrated the elevator’s retreating door. Again, Troy squinted as he observed the subsurface scene of scintillating blurs and clicking sounds. He stepped out of the pad, his vision cleared.

“Welcome to The Movement’s Technology Research Laboratory, headed by Dr. Elijah Hill himself!” greeted President Barber as he cleared himself from Troy’s vision.

The ceiling was bright with white light gleaming, almost as if it were the sun perfectly adjusted for indoor tolerance. The walls seemed to be moving. Some walls were clear, others red, blue, green, and foggy. People, mostly young adults and middle-aged but of both sexes, were concentrated in many separate grouping stations, each barred from the other by a different colored wall. Each group seemed preoccupied with their task than paying attention to the rare occurrence of a visitor from above.