Spurious frowned, reminded that he could scarcely remember his parents faces. It wasn’t the only thing he had forgotten. It seemed he could not recall what it was like to be happy; his purpose was only to provide administrative support to his superiors. Over the years he had come to accept his fate, but deep down he had always wished there was something more to his life.
Spurious swiped at his holographic blue screen to transfer data from a file he had received to a spreadsheet. As he finished up his report, the crystal blue screen began to pulsate, indicating he had a new message. He swiped the screen with his index finger to unlock the incoming message, watching the blue background fade and a white screen emerge. “Sound,” he commanded.
“Spurious,
We have gotten an influx of new tunnel projects—priority red. I’ll need you to get started on mapping them as soon as possible. Make no mistake, this comes from the top.
Regards,
Miria”
“Beats the plumbing projects,” Spurious said, quietly. With another swipe from his finger, a 3D image of the tunnels underneath Lunia emerged from a tiny opening in his desk. He rotated his chair, and began to study the red holographic lines snaking their way across his table.
The tunnels had always interested him. They were the grand engineering marvels from the early 21st century. And there were so many of them, like the never-ending entrails of a snake, winding their way deeper and deeper beneath the city. What little he knew came from what his father had told him when he was just a child—a fascinating story about the old world. It was a tale about how things once were; when governments sent their emissaries to meetings where they discussed solutions to the laundry list of problems the world faced. They talked about the dwindling supply of oil, global climate change and rising sea levels, but the talks never materialized. Temperatures rose, oil disappeared and the polar ice caps slowly melted. In a last ditch chance to protect cities from the scorching sun and gamma rays, the United States embarked on an engineering feat not seen since the creation of the New Deal and the building of the Panama Canal. They created new cities, completely underground.
Spurious thumbed through the holographic lines and enlarged a section of tunnel underneath Rohania, a suburb of Lunia. It was here, where he was born, that the tunnels were the deepest. It was going to be a daunting mission to map them all—a mission that supposedly came from the top.
He stared at the contours, watching them snake deeper into the ground. What was so important about the tunnels? Why were his superiors so interested in what lay beneath the city streets?
Spurious shook the curious thoughts out of his mind and continued to study the holographic lines crawling across his desk. He knew not to question his work. Mapping the tunnels was going to be overwhelming, but it was his job.
By the time he was done analyzing the new data, it was time for lunch. He looked down at Archie, who peered back with his oversized eyes, his small gills flexing in and out.
It’s pretty amazing that I can’t breathe in there, and you can’t breathe out here.
Spurious smiled at his small companion and stood, stretching with a long groan before shutting off his blue screen and heading to the cafeteria.
Saving energy had become law in the year 2061. The State rarely arrested workers for small offenses. More likely, were write-ups which could cost an employee a promotion. He’d seen it happen to his old pod mate, Paulo.
Spurious thought of his old friend as he made his way through the corridor of cubicles. One after another, the white structures of cubicles lined the walls. All cages, housing people just like him. He never liked to peer into these work stations as he passed, hoping others would respect his privacy as he respected theirs. There was one cubicle he could not restrain himself from looking in. It was that of Lana Padilla, a 25 year old dark-haired secretary with piercing brown eyes. Spurious heard the only reason she was given the prestigious and well paying job was because of her beauty. This was one situation where resumes, experience and name dropping didn’t matter. There had been only one interview before her supervisor, Varius, hired her as his assistant.
Spurious paused for a moment as he passed the manager’s office. He was a disgusting man, sitting in his plush chair, his gut hanging over the same pair of desert tan khakis he wore every day. And then there were his glasses. They were as thick as a magnifying glass, the rims coated with dandruff flaking off his receding and graying hair.
Spurious frowned and continued down the hall towards the cafeteria, his head down, while he contemplated what he would say to Lana. As her workspace came into view, he brushed a strand of his brown hair back into position and cracked his unmistakable half smile. “Hey Lana…” he said, his voice trailing off as the quiet tick of a clock filled his ears.
He craned his neck further into the office to see it was empty. The only explanation he could gather was she was at home with a cold. There was a virus going around the office—a virus not even the gallons of bleach had been able to prevent.
Spurious shrugged her absence off and continued down the hall towards the scent of food, trying to conceal his disappointment.
The cafeteria was busy for a Wednesday. Most people brought their lunch from home to save credits, but today the dining hall was doing well.
There were two lines: one for deli sandwiches, and the other for salad and porridge. These were some of the only foods the State deemed healthy enough for employees to eat. The entire list could be found in Law 204. It was yet another edict on state workers he had memorized.
Spurious got sick of having the same thing every day, but it was better than what those trying to survive outside the protection of the great Tisaian walls had to eat.
He approached the white, shiny counter, blinded momentarily by the reflection off a metal tray. His vision quickly came back into focus and the toothless grin of one of the cafeteria assistants came into view.
“Hey there, Spurious, what’s it going to be today?” she asked.
He gritted his teeth and tried to hide his disgust. “I think I’m just going to have my usual.”
“All right. One tuna salad on white, with one slice of cheese and tomato.”
“You know me too well,” Spurious said, with a smile, grabbing the tray from her.
The pungent smell of tuna entered his nostrils, reminding him of the smell of bleach. These were two smells he would never escape; another two pieces of the monotonous puzzle making up his life.
He stared down at the sandwich, realizing that, over the years, tuna had become almost tasteless to him. Sometimes he even wondered if it was really tuna, having never seen one in his life. Ever since the Biomass Wars ended, the boundaries around Tisaia were fortified. No one was allowed to leave and no one was allowed in. He knew it was impossible for the State to ship tuna in from the ocean. The only explanation he could deduce was that the State had massive stockpiles of canned goods stored away in vaults underground. Like many State workers, he had heard of these vaults, but never seen one in person, or in any of the engineering design work he analyzed.
“Over here, Spurious,” yelled Paulo.
Spurious made his way down the armada of white tables filled with his co-workers. He spotted Paulo and his best friend Ing at a table at the far edge of the cafeteria. After wading through the lines of SGS employees, Spurious finally sat down with his friends.
“What’s going on?” Ing asked, as Spurious took a seat.