Toy

Chapter 1

"The guards are still there," Michael inspected a steel gate through his binoculars as drops of rainwater slid into his mouth. "The wall it is then," the black duffle bag slung over Sam's shoulder was heavy with equipment. The mud was up to their knees, which was natural—it always rained outside the bubble. For the past five years, the rain hand't stopped for even a moment. They noticed this circular structure by the end of the first year, and stalked it like an unapproachable maiden ever since, staring from a distance, one with a cool, calculating eye, the other foaming at the mouth. Sam was ready to burst in from day one, and would have done so too, if Michael didn't practically beg him to think things through—to give him time to study the patrol and find a way to slip inside unnoticed. Back then, they didn't even have guns, and Sam never dreamed they would find one, which is why he saw no sense in waiting. If anything, he thought they had to break into the structure to find what they needed most. "How are you planning to get inside!?" Michael swung his arm angrily as they stood in a grove of naked, fallen trees a mile away from the concrete beast. "The front door, how else!?" Sam was slightly taller than Michael, and that made him feel older and wiser too. He stood his ground and glowered at his friend firmly. "And the guard!?" Michael didn't seem the least bit intimidated. He did feel like Sam was the more natural leader, but he wasn't about to give way to irrational behavior. "I'll just bash them with this wrench here!" The tool was large and heavy enough to convince Michael it would be able to do some decent damage, but, "They have guns! Even if you sneak up on the two guarding the entrance, there bound to be more inside. They'll be alerted by your first attack, and before you know it you'll have a bullet in your head! How does that sound!? You want to throw all our plans away in a moment of excitement!?" Sam didn't want to give in, but he couldn't help but break into a soft chuckle when he saw the fire in his friend's eye. Actually, he thought he had to do this—he thought this was the only way to achieves their goals, but if Michael had something in mind himself, he was willing to step back for the time being and let his partner take the spotlight. They always relapsed into this same argument whenever they came back to scout the structure again, and somehow Michael kept winning with his intricate arguments every time. Now it was finally time to raid this mysterious construct. To Sam's wonder, Michael not only managed to formulate a gentle course of entry, but also find the necessary tools for the task. It didn't hurt to check whether the guards were still at the entrance even though they were intent on scaling the wall from the outset. The rest of the exterior, other than the gate, they believed to be unguarded. "We're actually doing this," Sam traced the wall up with his eyes when they approached. Michael was too excited to notice what Sam said. He glanced around with a flushed face from under his hood as a dozen thoughts ran through his mind. Having dissuaded Sam so many times from prematurely breaking into the giant, he now felt all the more responsible for making sure his plan went smoothly. Sam pulled out a heavy hook gun from his bag and pointed it up toward the crown of the colossus. "Hope it reaches," he said and pulled the trigger. The hook shot up with a loud snap, a grunt from Sam and a flinch from Michael, who was in the middle of saying, "I made all the proper calc—" When it landed on top of the wall, Sam pulled on the rope slowly until it stopped giving way and became taut. He tugged it a few more times to slightly boost his confidence about it. Then he attached it to the safety harness around his waist and looked at Michael, "Ready?" Michael looked at Sam meaningfully and nodded. This was the first time they used a hook gun to scale anything, and the experience was particularly thrilling for Sam not only because it was new, but even more so because they were finally making significant progress toward their goals. He thought the moment would stay with him for a long time, which is why he turned his head to savour the view and chuckle at Michael's anxious form staring up at him from the ground. Five minutes later, he was pulling himself over the parapet and looking around for guards. He felt heat and a kind of suffocating humidity in the air. Slouching against the parapet, he studied the surface. It was crudely illuminated by large light projectors and, except for a multitude of even larger turbine vents and a shed-like structure to Sam's left, pretty much barren. Sam tried to relax and steady his breath as his eyes came to rest on the transparent pillar of shifting air in front of him. It rose from the center of this monolith into the sky where the clouds billowed and churned with voracious vigor. The pillar stole all other thoughts from him and pulled him closer to it as by an invisible hand. Pulling him closer with its mysterious appeal, it pushed him away with its intense heat. Even using his arm to shield his exposed face, he couldn't approach any closer than thirty paces. He recoiled with a grunt and scrambled back to the parapet. Leaning over the edge, he motioned for his partner to climb. Micahel looked around one last time and started working his way up very carefully. The climb wasn't nearly as exciting for him as it was for Sam, but he was greatly stimulated by his curiosity nonetheless. He tried to focus on the wall and his feet without going too quickly, but when he felt his arms tire, he panicked and sped the rest of the way up. He flopped onto the roof and struggled to catch his breath against the overwhelming heat, "It's so hot!" he complained when he turned over onto his back. "It's impossible, I can't get close enough to look over the other edge," Sam replied as he breathed with his mouth. He felt completely soaked now, both from the sweat and the rain. Michael looked around, his chest heaving, and pointed at the concrete shed, "Let's hide in there!" Sam nodded and helped his friend up. Michael's attention was completely absorbed by the strange pillar. Of course, he had vaguely seen it before from miles away, but he was hoping to learn something of it as soon as he climbed this structure. The structure seemed to be the pillar's source, but unfortunately did not reveal any clues from this new vantage point. The shed had no doors, only openings on opposite sides. When they poked their heads inside, they could vaguely discern rows of steel racks lined up in two columns on the right side. On the left, stacks of boxes were covered over with tarpaulin. They pulled out semi-automatic rifles from their duffle bags and, nodding to each other, carefully entered the shed. They didn't spot any light switches, but even if there were any, they wouldn't have pulled them. Except for the drone of the vents outside and something else much larger, the shed was quiet. Michael found the rack shelves filled with all sorts of potentially useful tools and mechanical parts. Under different circumstances, he would have loved to spend a generous portion of his time going through them one by one, but today a quick survey with a small flashlight had to suffice. Everything was caked in a thick layer of dust that went rioting through the air every time Michael's fingers brushed it. On the other side, Sam was roughly pulling tarpaulin off the stacks of boxes until the dust made him choke and cough into his raincoat. Startled by the noise, Michael ran over to him. "This place hasn't been dusted for a thousand years!" Sam complained. "I don't think they keep maids here," Michael joked, and Sam snorted with an approving smile. "Find anything useful?" "Repair tools mostly. I swiped a couple of things here and there but nothing outstanding. What's in the boxes?" Sam opened one and, after scrutinizing it's insides, responded without turning to face Michael, "Cement. There's probably sand and lime in those other ones." Michael made his way toward the opening opposite the one they came through and, after studying the surface of the wall for a moment, called out to Sam, "There's a staircase on this side!" Sam approached and saw indeed there was a staircase some fifty paces away. After cautiously studying the area for guards, they grabbed their bags and headed purposefully for their newly identified target. Despite the apparent abandonment of this part of the structure, they made an effort to skirt the more heavily illuminated spots. The staircase descended ominously into the pitch-black interior of the wall and made the duo balk to study the hollow for a moment. "Don't let your guard down," Sam said as he took the lead. The stairs were old and rusty. They made occasional noises as the duo descended slowing their progress considerably and filling them with anxiety at every step. The occasional catwalks extending to the left and right led into complete darkness and didn't seem very reliable, even less so than the stairs, so they ignored them. Through the darkness, they could make out a trail of lights far below them. This line of lights and the growing rumble, as if of some hungry beast, reassured them they were on the right track. "I think we should be able to find some sort of a control room down there," Michael said. "You know, it doesn't seem to me like this place is very heavily guarded. We could've saved five years if you had let me rush the guards back when we first came here." Michael caught the obvious irritation in Sam's voice and decided not to reply. Of course, he could argue his case, but at this point didn't think it would lead anywhere productive. Neither spoke for some time then, both occupied with their thoughts. The descent was so long they eventually got bored of walking and, abandoning all discretion, began running down the stairs with a stifled sense of excitement. Like mischievous kids, they felt thrilled by the possibility of either getting caught or hurt—the stairs turned into a roller coaster for them. Even Michael, who was the more reserved of the two, let loose a giggle now and then. Sam was stomping so boisterously, Michael thought he was trying to collapse the trembling staircase in earnest. It was fun, nevertheless; besides, they were seventeen year old boys. Finally, they were close enough to make out a hallway at the bottom of the stairs. Michael had to be the adult and pull Sam by the collar to rein him in. "What!?" Sam broke away angrily. "Quiet, there might be guards down there," Michael whispered for emphasis. Sam sank to the steps sulkily and rummaged through his bag for a grain bar and binoculars. The grain bar practically swallowed in one bite, he started scrutinizing the long hallway with eager attention. Michael did the same, "Let's try to get an idea of the patrol down here." The boys were beginning to feel like they were finally getting somewhere, and the idea made them tingle with excitement. Five long years of planning and scavenging for this one fateful moment. It seemed like a dream. "Even if this is a dream, it's nice practice," Michael thought to himself. "If there is one," Sam replied with renewed petulance. They kept vigil for an hour, or as long as Michael managed to force Sam to wait before the latter ran out of patience, "Alright," he jumped up to his feet in exasperation, "I've had enough of this—why are we even waiting when we have weapons!?" "Alright, keep it down! We're going! Still, now that we've waited for an hour, I feel like the guards might show up any minute. I think it would be wise to wait a little longer," Michael suggested timidly. "Uh, no," Sam secured his bag on his back and started descending. His intuition was telling him there wouldn't be any guards, or was that his wishful thinking. Descending the last set of stairs, Michael convinced Sam to step as gingerly as possible and was relieved to put the squeaky, vertiginous monstrosity behind them for good. The thought they may have to climb the staircase back up made him retch. Besides, he was convinced his partner had destroyed it in a couple of places, and was surprised it didn't collapse. Sam bent down and stroked the warm concrete floor gently with the palm of his hand just as they touched ground as if performing some important ceremony. He smiled creepily and watched for signs of movement on either side. Michael's hopes for professional behavior from Sam in this most crucial of times were dashed with unnerving finality. He pulled out his weapon and lost a few drops of cold sweat. He was clinging onto the vague hope this was indeed a dream and they would wake up when things got really bad. They slipped down the bare corridor holding their semi-automatic rifles propped against their shoulders, facing opposite directions. Michael covered the rear while Sam watched the front. They passed a few metal doors to either side until they came to an intersection. Sam peeked the corridors to his right and left: the latter extended seemingly without end while the former ended at an elaborate metal door some twenty paces away. He smirked triumphantly and pulled his friend after him into the corridor on the right. Michael pointed immediately at two black, rounded devices in the corners above the door, "Cameras." Sam pulled out a gun from his duffle bag and shot the devices a couple of times each with so much noise, Michael ducked simply from the fear of the shots being heard. "Sam!" Michael whispered angrily, "There are quieter ways to do that!" "Really? How?" "Forget it!" Michael ran over to the door and pulled a portable computing device with a small display and keyboard from his bag, "Let's just get out of here as soon as possible!" After a cursory inspection, he began to pry away the cover of a card scanning device mounted on the wall next to the door with a wedge. It snapped away, and Michael wasted no time connecting his computer via some wires. Meanwhile, Sam pulled out hand grenades from his bag, stuffed them inside his raincoat pockets and walked casually over to the intersection, rifle hanging loosely in his right hand. He unbuttoned his raincoat and its skirt billowed gently in the feeble draft coming down the hallway. Two minutes passed before a long beep brought Sam's gaze back to the door to find Michael unplugging his device. He made a final inspection of the three hallways and went back to pick up his bag and sling it over his shoulder. Michael was already standing with his hand on the door handle waiting for Sam's signal. Sam propped his rifle against his shoulder, pointed it at the door and nodded to his friend. Michael jerked the door open. Sam slipped into the room with his finger on the trigger. The room was dimly lit by a row of large monitors lined up against the wall on the opposite end. The monitors were all connected to a single interface unit jutting out of the wall. Surprisingly, the room was abandoned with some of the chairs next to the interface overturned. Michael sat on one of them and started punching away at the keyboard while Sam inspected the room. "Sam, come look at this!" "What is it?" he ran over to lean against the backrest of Michael's chair. "Project files—it looks like this facility was built to heat water and send it up into the sky!?" Michael read incredulously. Sam slammed his palm on one of the keyboards, and his face flushed with emotion before he even realized what Michael's words meant. The other kept rummaging through the files, his curiosity soaring to new heights, while Sam tried to collect his thoughts. They were both flabbergasted by the revelation. Never in their wildest dreams did they imagine such a concept, and it took them a while to wrap their heads around it. Sam blurted out significantly, "Shut it down!" as if he was some actor in a movie. He needed time to process this new information, but he knew he had to do something decisive now. Michael clacked at the keyboard for another five minutes while Sam stared at the screen with a melange of emotions, a dozen thoughts running through his head—he was beginning to comprehend why the rain never stopped, what the mysterious pillar of heat was, but not nearly why this was the case. "Why?" Sam asked out loud, but Michael was likewise trying to process this new information while he searched for a way to disable the facility, and at the same time trying to get more information. He literally never pressed buttons so hard in his life. He thought his brain was working at maximum capacity. He also managed to slip in a thought about his face feeling hot. "I found the controls, but it looks like this computer doesn't have the authorization," Michael shook his head eagerly. "Can you override it?" "Trying." Just then they both heard the clank of metal and whirled around to find three androids, geared in translucent white armor, pouring through the doorway and pointing their barreled arms at them. The duo dived for the floor, and Sam, rifle in hand, unleashed a torrent of bullets at their guests with frenzied promptness. This was the moment he had been waiting for, dreaming about, and he wasn't about to die before he could fulfill his ambitions admirably. He held the trigger until the clip ran dry and found himself breathing rapidly and shakily trying to get back up without wasting any time, moving automatically like a robot himself. The androids lay sparking and twitching in the doorway while Sam kept his eyes fixed on them and quickly replaced the clip. "Are you okay Michael!?" he ran over to help his partner get up. "I think so," Michael looked over his body and felt it with his hands. "Let's get the heck out of here," Sam threw his bag over his shoulder and ran over to inspect the androids for signs of functionality. He felt himself trembling but tried not to show it. Except for some twitching of limbs and incoherent clicking and squeaking, he found none. Michael was soon kneeling next to him and stuffing some of the more juicy parts into his bag. This was prime research material; Michael dreamed about this as much as Sam dreamed about shooting his rifle. Sam peeked out the door and, with a startled grunt, unleashed a shower of bullets into the hallway. Michael ducked to the side of the room as soon as he heard the rifle go off and looked to find his partner biting the safety pin off of a grenade and chucking it into the corridor. The explosion slammed the door shut and sent a pleasant vibration up Sam's spine; it warmed him up a little and calmed his nerves. He reloaded his rifle and motioned for Michael to follow. Michael didn't know what to think anymore, except this definitely wasn't a dream. The corridor was torn up and full of smoke. They skipped over what remained of the androids and plunged headlong past the intersection down the path that led directly away from the structure. "Wait—!" Sam backtracked over to a low hatch in the right wall. It was one third the size of a regular door and wouldn't budge when he pulled on the handles. Michael ran over to lend him a hand when a dozen androids started pouring into the hallway from beyond the left corner of the intersection, tripping on rocks and pits at first but quickly breaking into a full run. Possessed by desperation, they pulled on the hatch handles with all of their strength, and it shifted with a sharp creak a few seconds before coming away from the wall completely. "Go, go, go!" Sam pushed Michael through the opening and chucked another grenade at the swarm on the approach before diving through the hatch himself. It was built into the side of a large drainage pipe, and Sam would have fallen into the stream if Michael hadn't caught him by the arm. Sam barely managed to clutch the metal rungs running up the pipe from the hatch before the grenade went off in the hallway and sent them dangling like puppets on a string above a vigorous stream of muddy water. Their bags and rifles went into the stream, but the duo was just relieved it wasn't them. Both of them had dear things in those bags, but there was no time to lament. They went up. The climb was awkward and taxing for as long as they followed the drawn out bend in the pipe. When the water started falling on top of them, Sam coughed and spat after swallowing some of it. Michael glanced down at him and his eyes went wide, "Androids!" "Are you serious!?" Sam saw translucent white shapes climbing toward them with mechanical fervor and yelled, "Go faster Michael!" They flew up the rungs desperately while trying to think of a way to deal with the fresh pursuit without their bags and weapons. The odds weren't looking too good, and the clanking of android limbs against the metal rungs was really sending shivers down Michael's back. He wasn't even afraid of death as much as he was afraid of being tortured by the androids. He felt like his nightmares were coming to life along with his ambitions. There was no more pain in his limbs—his eyes were wide and his arms and legs were moving. The sharp edge of the pipe rim felt like chocolate pudding on his tongue and he scrambled onto the surface like a wild animal. He whirled around and stretched his hand down toward his friend. Sam's eyes were also wide, but not from fear—he was angry and wanted to stomp the androids in the face, but didn't want to stop and wait for them. He was about to grab Michael's hand when he felt a coldness wrap tightly around his ankle and pull down with incontestable force. He bared his teeth angrily as if at his friend, fate or the androids, but none of those in particular and the rungs slipped from his fingers. Michael's features twisted into the most painful grimace of denial as he howled a prolonged "No!" while hanging over the rim and stretching his hand toward his falling friend.