arms and legs returning; everything is swelling up inside me, back to normal, I guess. Someone was supposed to be watching me 24 hours a day, every day. But the room I’m in right now, I’ve only been to, conservatively, twice before. Maybe they moved operations up to another floor and have some sort of vid-stream on the room?
No, if that were the case then someone would have seen me by now. This isn’t right; none of this is right.
I’m standing here, practically naked and freezing fucking cold and no one is here and Janet and Phil were holding hands. This is a set up. I never should have trusted him.
I stop in front of the elevator doors, push the button and wait. Nothing. I push the button again, wait a few more seconds and then realize that there isn’t any power to the elevators. The lights are off; the little digital screen that should show you the floor you are on is black and silent. I turn around and look at the room; by law there has to be an entrance to the stairs here somewhere. Why has the power to the elevators been cut? Jesus Christ, I bet they stole my money, closed this fucking place down and then cut all the power to kill me.
That can’t be right. Why would the rest of the building have power? Why would the lights come on?
“Solar membranes,” I say to nobody. “The windows, all of them, have solar membranes.”
It helped sell the feature to other companies; the whole building is running on solar right now. It’s not that there isn’t any power, just not enough. They were originally a backup plan until we could install our own grid. They were never meant to be the sole powersource for the whole damn building, just a reserve for the server banks. I need to see the outside. I need to get to a set of windows.
The entrance to the stairs is off to the right. The floor is starting to become colder than my feet and it’s making my toes ache. My stomach turns over a few times. I need to eat something soon, something with a little substance or else I’m going to pass out again. My hands are shaky when I reach the push bar of the security door that leads to the stairwell. It opens with ease and I look up and then down. I’m on the third floor, only three more to go until I can get to my office. Grabbing hold of the handrail, I begin to pull myself up, one foot at a time. The emergency lights are the only lights in the narrow space; big, red exit signs throw just enough light on the floor to make it accessible, and my eyes instantly feel better.
I make it up one flight and have to sit down on the landing. I haven’t moved in a year. Take that and couple it with the fact that I haven’t had anything but medication, and you get a very weak and tired man. My hand goes to my head and I rub the smoothness. I used to have a pretty good head of hair, but I guess the chemo and the other treatments along with the freezing process pretty much killed that. I can deal with baldness. The skin on my hands and arms shines in the low light; my whole body is pale enough to glow in the dark. After I take a few deep breaths, I pull myself up to the handrail and look into the glass opening of the security door in front of me.
I can’t remember what we had on the fourth floor; I think it was Research and Development, maybe it was accounting? The lights are all off. The portal is black; I try the handle and it feels like there’s something blocking it when I try to push it open. Standing on my tiptoes, I look down and try to see if there’s something in the way. Why would there be something in the way?
Fuck it; I need to get to my office. I need to figure this out. But first I need clothes and coffee and food. God, I would kill for a cup of coffee right now. I stop trying to look through the little square window and keep moving. Hand over hand, it feels like I’m climbing Everest. I keep moving until I get past the landing for the fifth floor; the landing just above me reads a big 6 , and then I see the door to
No, if that were the case then someone would have seen me by now. This isn’t right; none of this is right.
I’m standing here, practically naked and freezing fucking cold and no one is here and Janet and Phil were holding hands. This is a set up. I never should have trusted him.
I stop in front of the elevator doors, push the button and wait. Nothing. I push the button again, wait a few more seconds and then realize that there isn’t any power to the elevators. The lights are off; the little digital screen that should show you the floor you are on is black and silent. I turn around and look at the room; by law there has to be an entrance to the stairs here somewhere. Why has the power to the elevators been cut? Jesus Christ, I bet they stole my money, closed this fucking place down and then cut all the power to kill me.
That can’t be right. Why would the rest of the building have power? Why would the lights come on?
“Solar membranes,” I say to nobody. “The windows, all of them, have solar membranes.”
It helped sell the feature to other companies; the whole building is running on solar right now. It’s not that there isn’t any power, just not enough. They were originally a backup plan until we could install our own grid. They were never meant to be the sole powersource for the whole damn building, just a reserve for the server banks. I need to see the outside. I need to get to a set of windows.
The entrance to the stairs is off to the right. The floor is starting to become colder than my feet and it’s making my toes ache. My stomach turns over a few times. I need to eat something soon, something with a little substance or else I’m going to pass out again. My hands are shaky when I reach the push bar of the security door that leads to the stairwell. It opens with ease and I look up and then down. I’m on the third floor, only three more to go until I can get to my office. Grabbing hold of the handrail, I begin to pull myself up, one foot at a time. The emergency lights are the only lights in the narrow space; big, red exit signs throw just enough light on the floor to make it accessible, and my eyes instantly feel better.
I make it up one flight and have to sit down on the landing. I haven’t moved in a year. Take that and couple it with the fact that I haven’t had anything but medication, and you get a very weak and tired man. My hand goes to my head and I rub the smoothness. I used to have a pretty good head of hair, but I guess the chemo and the other treatments along with the freezing process pretty much killed that. I can deal with baldness. The skin on my hands and arms shines in the low light; my whole body is pale enough to glow in the dark. After I take a few deep breaths, I pull myself up to the handrail and look into the glass opening of the security door in front of me.
I can’t remember what we had on the fourth floor; I think it was Research and Development, maybe it was accounting? The lights are all off. The portal is black; I try the handle and it feels like there’s something blocking it when I try to push it open. Standing on my tiptoes, I look down and try to see if there’s something in the way. Why would there be something in the way?
Fuck it; I need to get to my office. I need to figure this out. But first I need clothes and coffee and food. God, I would kill for a cup of coffee right now. I stop trying to look through the little square window and keep moving. Hand over hand, it feels like I’m climbing Everest. I keep moving until I get past the landing for the fifth floor; the landing just above me reads a big 6 , and then I see the door to
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