(DRAFT) Artificial Terror

Chapter 16: Resulting Products

I sat down in the passenger seat as Blake surveyed the cabin. He noticed his father's body and turned to me.

    "Has he been there? The whole time?"

    "Yeah, I found him like that. I'm sorry for your loss," I said in a low tone. "Anything you need me to do?"

    "No, no. I got it. You need to relax."

Blake went over to his father while I turned the seat forward to the tunnel. Endless darkness. We made it, escaped, and can relax. With a deep breath, I let the last two days consume me. It started with a tour and ended with taking down a hostile A.I. Multiple times of almost dying, but found myself standing moments later. I made friends and helped people. This is way too coincidental for a lot of it. Thinking back on the last two days, I should've died one way or the other. Anyone would call me lucky. Shouldn't take any of it for granted.

I sank further in the seat. Something poked out of my pocket: my phone. How could I forget about this? The blank screen reflected a face I almost didn't recognize with the messy hair and skewed glasses, but the blue eyes blinked back. I should've used this to record my experience or communicate with others. Instead, I believed it broke in a fall. That's why. Turning it around, it survived without a single scratch.

    "Another impossible thing to add to the list," I muttered to myself.

Wonder if it has power? Making an intrigued grunt, I pressed the power button to find my phone turning on. A sea of green layered Smoky Mountains blinded me for a moment. I want to go back to the mountains and vacation. I typed in my passcode. Once again, the screen changed to a photo of a fountain. Home. I couldn't wait to get back home and relax in my bed while my ankle healed. Man, I have one spring break story to top all others when I get back to school.

Texts flooded my phone in the matter of seconds. Texts, chats, and so on kept my phone dinging for two minutes. Time to catch up. My parents formed the first wave of texts ranging from asking how my first day went, to demands of why I haven't responded, and to if I'm alive. The news must've broken by then. Mom sent a final paragraph of support and good luck. Love you, too, Mom.

Relatives and friends shored up the second wave. Some were simple 'where are u's to ones in all caps saying 'ARE YOU IN THAT BUILDING ON TV?!?!'. I chuckled as I read through some of my friends' reactions. I probably made national news. 'Hey man, hope you arent dead yet' ended it. I'll be the only thing school will talk about.

Online friends, news outlets, and strangers built the final and newest wave. News wanted interviews while people sent words of encouragement. I scrolled through the list, reading each one. A smile crept onto my face as I felt the spirit of thousands watching their TVs, waiting for me to arrive on the surface. At least it'll be a warm welcome. One recent post made me stop. A local news station said they'll be waiting for me at the train station. I didn't think anyone would be waiting for us, besides the government. Didn't the government try to cover this up?

     "Hey, Charlotte?" I called the train. "Is there any word from Wellston station?"

     "Let me check," she said. "Yes, there is. The station master's office reports a whole crowd's waiting for us. You've got quite a fan club."

    "Wow, really? I...I'm a regular person."

    Charlotte laughed. "Do you always act so modest and humble? You're a celebrity, but stardom does come with the downside of being known."

    "True."

I heard a noise and turned my chair towards the countertop. Blake leaned against it while gazing out the window. His curly hair stuck up in random places, grime plastered his skin, his shoulder bandage stuck up from underneath his shirt which ripped in places, his jeans covered in more rips, and his tennis shoes caked in filth. Someone's in need of a makeover. Blake noticed me staring.