Chapter 8 “Never start a snowball fight with a physicist.”

After a month, Burton had completed all but one of the activation procedures. He sat in the lab waiting for the last child to arrive. Shaw and Ellen still looked uneasy. Despite being present for all forty eight procedures that mercifully went without incident.

“Good evening sir, reporting as ordered.” The door hissed open as Chris arrived. Tall and thin, military buzz cut. The shuffling of a deck of cards put him last, something he'd been unhappy about.

“Come in, right on time.” Shaw beckoned him in. While the adults made a conscious effort not to show any kind of favouritism, Shaw always liked Chris. His father served in the same unit Shaw had years earlier, earning a posthumous Silver Star. Chris had emerged as a natural leader

“Have a seat.” Burton tapped the stool in front of him. “Grip this please.” Chris took hold of the dumbbell bar attached to a stand, putting his arm at a right angle. Burton clicked the monitors to show streaming med data, and gave Ellen the nod. She stood to the side of Chris so he had to turn his head.

“Alright Hotshot, spin the wheel.” Ellen had repurposed a couple of old pie tins into a game to distract the children. “Red, general knowledge.” She flipped the pages on the clipboard, going through her handwritten questions. “Ok, this is a tough one. What is the only mammal capable of flight?”

Ellen kept her tone neutral. Chris turned his head, thinking about the trivia question. Burton pressed a button on his pipboy.

The inbuilt l.e.d. began to pulse in an irregular fashion. Shifting from white to red, then green and back to white. While this had no effect on the adults, save for a mild headache and nausea. It took hold of Chris instantly. He became still, quiet, almost asleep while sitting upright.

“He’s under.” Burton checked the electroencephalogram readout and gave the command to begin. Within seconds Shaw handed off the old core to Ellen as Burton passed him the Ultracite core. Shaw’s steady hands pressed the new core into place and the panel closed over it. “We’re good.”

“Chris, you’re very tired, time to rest.” Shaw’s hands hovered over Chris, gently guiding him the few steps to the gurney. Chris simply hopped up and stretched out, drifting off into a deep sleep. The adults in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Thank god we don’t have to see them like that anymore.” Ellen found the post countermeasure state uncomfortable.

“It’s not that different from sleepwalking.” Burton checked the brainwaves on the monitor. “No pain, he’s out like a light.”

“Good.” Shaw clipped the restraints into place and slowly pushed the gurney to the end of the table. He sat down, keeping Chris in his eyeline. “Now where are we with the Christmas plans?” All three had spent the quiet hours in the lab planning. Things had escalated quite a bit.

“Good morning children. Merry Christmas.” Shaw stood in the atrium as the children sat. Burton stood with the other staff. “Five years ago, I stood in this very spot, surrounded by frightened faces. Both young and old. I told you then that before long you would look upon those faces as family. I’m sure some thought me a sentimental old man.” A slight chuckle rippled round the room. “Look around. Tell me what you see.” Smiles and a few tears bloomed.

“Now as you know, this year we’re having a somewhat quieter celebration.” Shaw managed to keep a straight face. Burton had to fake a cough. “So we’ll have free time till lunch…” He trailed off as Burton nearly missed his cue.

“Actually, I need to move some boxes up from the sublevel storage.” Burton sounded convincing.

“Well, how many boxes?” Shaw asked with feigned annoyance.

“A few...hundred.” A groan went round the room.

“Any volunteers? All of you, good.” Shaw broke into a smile as he headed for the lift.

It took four trips to get everyone down, with Burton waiting till last. He almost ran past the line of sullen faces to keep from laughing. The door opened to a pitch black, cavernous space. “Fuse must have blown, give me a minute.” Burton slipped into the dark. He clicked on his pipboy light and climbed the ladder to the gantry above. “I got it. Come in.” Burton yelled, clunking the circuit breaker on. The simulated sun lamps hummed, warming up and giving off a dim haze of light.

Right away the children noticed something different. Their footsteps crunched, leaving prints in the dry dirt. Burton watched them filter in, taking note of children that grew up in the country. The sensation of something so mundane, yet absent so long, overwhelmed some of them. As it had done Burton when the first shift of bots dumped the soil out.

Some of the children dropped to their knees, scooping up fistfuls of rich, brown, earth. The lights became brighter showing the hangar sized room with a foot of nutrient enriched soil stretching out.

“Children, eyes and ears.” Shaw strode to the centre, after letting the children breathe in the scent of rich earth for a moment. “We have reached the halfway point of our...stay. And, we look towards an uncertain future. What we know is that people have to eat.” Shaw took a light hearted tone. “So, thanks to Professor Blake inventing dirt, apparently, this will be our farm. You will learn to grow food. We have frozen embryos for chickens, pigs, goats. We will raise them...for food. I know that those of you with experience will help all of us learn.”

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“Still, not very Christmassy, is it children.” Shaw gave Burton a subtle wave. “Now I don’t believe in wishful thinking, but perhaps just this once. Close your eyes children, and wish for...snow.” Shaw’s playful tone encouraged them past the eye rolls. After a few seconds of quiet, Ellen and two other staff members tipped boxes of shredded paper down from the gantry. The children opened their eyes and groaned as the flecks of paper fluttered to the ground. In a few seconds the last of the paper had fallen.

“Well, that was a little underwhelming. I don’t think everyone wished hard enough. Close your eyes.” Shaw gave Burton his cue, and he wound the crank handle.

The rerouted fire suppression system hissed gas along the irrigation sprinklers in the ceiling. Mists of water became super cooled in an instant, falling as snow. The touch of something cold drew gasps and sheer delight as the room filled like a shaken snowglobe. Burton made his way down, nearly slipping in a rush to be among the excitement.

The children laughed and ran, twirling in the snow that began to blanket the ground. “Outstanding Professor Blake.” Shaw stood next to him, nudging him to take the hip flask.

“Well, the garden did need watering.” Burton took a quick nip of brandy, to keep the cold out.

“Funny. How long you been saving that line?” Shaw took back the flask, smiling wide.

“About a week, give or ta—” An errant snowball hit Burton and burst across his chest. He turned as one of the children froze. “Never start a snowball fight with a physicist!” Burton threw his own snowball, missing completely.

The scent of something hot and sweet wafted in from the corridor as the staff brewed hot chocolate on a portable stove. Served with real marshmallows. Gradually the near shivering children filtered out, sitting on the ground.

“Children, eyes and ears.” Shaw struck a more serious tone and posture. “I hope you’ve worked out that there is a good deal more space down here. What say we take a tour.”

Burton brought up the rear as Shaw led the children into the armoury. Racks of pistols, shotguns, carbines, scoped rifles and light machine guns sat fenced in a wire cage. Fifty workbenches stretched out in two rows. Windows framed a gun range and a kill house in the next room. Burton watched the faces around him, Some were excited, others pensive. They’d all known this was coming at some point, but it still came as a shock to some.

“What is a soldier’s job?” Shaw asked. “Anyone?” A hand went up and he nodded.

“To follow orders, sir.” The boy sounded unsure.

“A good answer, but it is a soldier’s duty to follow lawful orders. Anyone else?”

“To fight the enemy, sir.” Another boy spoke, filled with bravado.

“The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting. Remember that children. Anyone else?”

“To kill.” Burton couldn’t tell who spoke up, but it sent a chill through the room. Shaw smiled and softened his posture.

“A soldier’s job is to do whatever is necessary to protect lives. Be they those who cannot protect themselves, or your brothers and sisters. Taking a life is not, should not be, easy. But it is necessary. The right soldier, with the right training, in the right place and time, can prevent wars. That is what you will do. This duty has fallen to you. Were it in my power to change that I would. But it is not.” Shaw’s facade fell for a moment.

Burton saw on his face something that he hadn’t fully understood until that instant. Shaw had fought his entire adult life to be that soldier. In the right place and time to stop a war. And he had failed.

“What is within my power is the ability to make you the finest soldiers you can be. So that one day, you can be whatever you want.” Shaw let his words hang in the air. They brought comfort and confidence to most. Not Burton.

The mood changed as Shaw led them into the next room. Some of the children seemed unsure about the eight dentist like chairs, arranged in a circle. Until a murmur went round the room.

“This is our virtual reality lab.” Shaw pinned a lot on technology Burton dismissed long ago. “Now there are training sims, which are frankly dreadful. So hopefully the Coding Club can whip up something a little more recreational.” Shaw threw him a wink. Burton smiled as members of his prize club found each other in the crowd, already fizzing with ideas.

“And the last stop on our tour.” Shaw’s voice and footsteps echoed off the high steel walls. He strode out into the vast space, raising his voice. “This space is yours. Do with it as you wish. In the coming days we will give you full access to our stocks, bots, construction equipment. Whatever we have is yours. Use it to learn, to create, experiment, grow. I believe Miss Ellen said something about a half pipe, whatever that is.” Shaw, Burton, and Ellen all looked at Ava. More excited than anyone else. “At least you’ll learn first aid. Now, who’s hungry?”

The smell hit Burton first as he stepped out of the lift. The freeze dried and rehydrated food they ate daily tasted fair to even pretty good. The flash frozen buffet before them looked like real food. Suckling pigs, slow roasted and served whole with apples in their mouths. Leg of goat, wrapped in bacon and deep fried. Pan fried sprouts, finished with tray after tray of potatoes, carrots, stuffing. With more than enough gravy.

The children gorged themselves, going back for second and third helpings. Shaw sat with Burton and the rest of the staff, his plate piled high. “You know, this is almost perfect.”

“Almost?” Burton knew what Shaw was going to say.

“Best meal I ever ate was in Hereford. Four months in the field, literally nothing but mre’s and stolen rice. We finish the job, swim out three klicks to meet an sbs team. We landed in the UK just in time for the king’s speech and Christmas dinner.” Shaw took a huge bite of thick cut pork. “They served it something called…”

“Yorkshire pudding?” Burton couldn’t help himself.

“Told you that story before.” Shaw smiled, knowing after five years in close quarters they’d shared all their stories.

“Once or twice, yeah. Turns out the recipe is pretty simple.” Burton found it in the database. “Turn around.”

“No. I don’t believe it.” Shaw leapt up, seeing the trays that had just been laid out. He took a golden brown circle and crunched through the crisp outer edge, tearing into the soft batter centre.

Burton helped serve the children, then sat back with Shaw. He laughed as his friend used the savoury puddings to scoop up food and dip them in gravy. More and more it had been the simple things they’d missed most. A home cooked meal. A new song on the radio. A walk in the rain to buy a paper and cigarettes. Things they had taken for granted all their lives.

The lure of ice cream and movies kept the children busy while Shaw hosted the staff in his quarters for cigars and fine brandy. “Ladies, gentlemen, a toast.” Shaw raised his glass. “Halfway home.”