Kapløbet Om Lys

Chapter One - Surface

The year is 5067.

It has been exactly one hundred years since the Dove War.

Almost all life on Earth as we know it has been wiped out.

The radioactive material leftover is still extremely potent, and we cannot afford the deaths of so many.

Yet there is no choice. The testing has begun, and today, August 10th, at 12:00 am, 50 will be released from Everest Shelter. Shelter's Elbert and Whitney are unconfirmed on release date. It will most likely be soon.

It does not matter the age or health. They are our only chance left.

God help us.

~ Robert Vince McNak, Researcher of the second rank

A soft rush of air passed narrow lips, the only sound in the dark room. Reflected in the glass screen of a machine, a pale face scrunched it's features, slim fingers reaching up to rub at tired eyes. After everything, this was the result of their survival. Resorting to sending people up to the Surface without preparing them. Old and young, middle-aged people who have souls and minds of their own, shoved into the unknown. It was terrible, but what choice did they have? Standing up, white robes billowed around a towering figure as it strode off, out of the circular space. The only light left was from the monitor which had been left open to a browser. A loading bar inched slowly across its glossy surface, eventually reaching 100%.

Message Sent.

A cheery female voice chirped from the small speakers before the machine fell dark. All progress deleted, all research gone. After all, what was the point of retaining it any longer? The owner of that machine would be caught and sentenced soon enough.

Fluorescent electric lights flickered, illuminating an old hallway with their dim flashing. It was a rarely used hall, as it didn't lead anywhere important. The shadowed passages used to lead deeper into Shelter Everest, but those depths had been cut off recently to save air. The air left within the underground shelter was at less than 70% capacity, which meant it wasn't of the purest quality. Some of the elderly and sick were already facing other ailments from oxygen loss. It was saddening, but today none were despairing. Most were celebrating, or at least trying to. Early dinners of canned foods, grossly hued mush that qualified as edible. The better foods had run out a while ago. Today was Testing. The Test that would decide whether you would be sent out. Up. To the Surface. A world they knew nothing about, despite the countless years of research and "gained" knowledge. A soft pattering of footsteps announced the presence of someone in the hallway, the short frame silhouetted by the lights revealed as a young girl. She continued on her way down the passage, keeping a steady gait until she reached the end, sealed off by sheets upon sheets of metal. Slumping against the corner wall, she slid down slowly, chin resting upon covered knees. Clutched in shaking fingers was a small flashlight which was clicked on and off. On and off. On and off. A circle of light brightening the gloom of the darkest section before being tucked away again. A reverberating sigh filled the silence, heavily lidded eyes falling shut for a mere moment.

Today is Testing. It's alright. You probably won't make it, will be stuck down here forever. That's good.

That is what everyone wanted, right? To stay here. To live. Her eyes opened again, blue flecked irises filled with resilience. She convinced herself that no matter what, she would survive. Everything would be fine. The world would go on.

I am Grace. I am strong. I am okay.

--- Later That Day ---

The line stretched on into eternity, it seemed, people standing in rigid formation for so long that their limbs grew stiff and the prospect of movement seemed distant. It was supposed to be organized, the Testing. It never was though, often people panicked and ran, being subdued by Soldiers and Officers in their fear-fueled frenzies. Quite a few broke down, sobbing and clinging to loved ones, hyperventilating, staring blankly and unseeing at the smooth steel walls. Grace didn't care. She had convinced herself not to.

Everything will be fine.

The machine stood tall and wide, shaped sort of like a framed doorway, but it curved into a semi-circular chamber with glass sliding doors which opened with mechanical gears turning in their clear sides. A Researcher nearby called names in bored way, lips moving slowly, seemingly not giving a damn. That was fine by her, no one needed to care about who was sorted. It was the chosen person's decision how they handled that information. Shifting forwards a few meager steps as someone else was summoned into the machine, Grace worried at the hem of her grey shirt with calloused fingers; they were scarred and brown from work. And of course, secret training. Did the government really think that everyone would be okay with being herded to the Surface with no survival experience? No, of course not. The Forces would stop anyone who dared try, but what could they do about secrets? Things that they did not know? Nothing. That fact brought the greatest satisfaction one could achieve in this life, and Grace had experienced it many times throughout twelve years. She was twelve years old, and had been introduced to training in hidden at an extremely young age. Jay Suzuki. The best man who had ever lived in this dismal place. Had. He was now dead, executed by exposure for treason against the CG. She liked to think of it as the Corrupted Government. That's exactly what they were too, fat lazy pigs who sat about on plush couches and supposedly "considered the options left". Yeah right. Consumed by ravenous thoughts, Grace hadn't noticed she had moved to the front of the line, black sneakers scuffing the edge of the sorting machine. The Researcher mumbled her name, the words appearing in block-like red letters at the top of the contraption.

Grace Rogers.

Taking a deep breath, filling broad lungs with stale air before stepping onto the rounded platform. Her breathing turned ragged and wispy, anxiety fraying usually steady nerves. Cerulean eyes affixed themselves to the small screen, the glass surface that determined everything. Pixels scattered across that screen, calculating the odds. A swift scan ensued, a grid of lasers passing over her scrawny stature and taking chemical samples, atomic evidence. Evaluating her DNA.

The screen stopped flashing. It was done gathering information. Slowly, ever so slowly, numbers solidified upon its surface, a percentage. Your numbers had to be over 80 to pass. Vision blurry with sudden tears, a choked sound emanated from her throat, the numbers having been recorded by another Researcher. She was forcibly removed from the machine, and put into a room with other hunched and decimated people.

95.

95%.

Today, a world ended for Grace Rogers.

A new one had begun.

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Thank you for reading!

Chapter Two will be out soon~

If you didn't understand the Testing completely, here's a summary.

Your levels have to be over 80% to qualify. That means they are sent to the surface.

If your levels are over 90% you are in the higher rankings of survival, and put into a "Top Ten" group.

That leaves 40 regular people who passed to go up.

If your percentages are over 90%, you have an incredibly high chance of- once exposed to the radioactive material above -developing a mutation.

They aren't always good, and they don't always make sense.