* * *
Near week’s end, with less than 48 hours left on the island—and all guests finally in attendance—Thuma invites everyone to the Daitō in the Bunker, ‘in the spirit of amity and goodwill’, for a traditional tea ceremony.
She knows he’ll likely use the opportunity to segue into yet another discussion of his many technological advances in the realm of subterranean human settlement.
She knows, too, that he will somehow manage to make this transparently obvious sales pitch a wholly charming affair, like all the others.
How long does it take him to memorize the scripts his systems spin up? Does he just get his talking points on the fly and improvise?
Attendance is voluntary or course, but no one declines. If anything, Britt finds the ritual a welcome distraction from the long hours she’s spent on screens and in VR. It’s an excuse to relax, if not so much for the Ocha itself. The Gyokuro[16] is a little bitter for her tastes.
After the ceremony, The PRC and Saudi reps walk with Thuma. Herr Bühl appears uninterested in talking shop and retreats to one of the koi ponds. As the rest split into little cliques to walk the grounds, Britt decides to walk through the server center and enjoy some solitude.
She wends her way to the second Daitō, that half pagoda protruding from the horizon-turned-wall at the far end of the room, as though sticking through an enormous mirror.
Its interior is identical to the other, save for the wide hallway in the back leading to the server center.
She walks slowly, admiring the Kintsugi[17] on display, finally passing the large doors at the end of the corridor.
In the server center she stares at the mainframe behind its meter thick glass, processors, chilled to just over a fourth of a Kelvin, humming away, incomprehensibly fast in their reckoning.
She takes a seat at one of the many consoles to admire her surroundings.
It really does feel like she’s sitting in one of the garden pavilions at the surface. Everything bright and spacious, a far cry from the dark, dank, and dingy of most underground facilities she’s seen.
Very feng shui
“Maaarcooo.” She calls out, smiling at her echo. With the height of the ceiling, she half expects a crane to pass overhead.
Her eyes trace the great Nihonga mural encircling the room.
Confrontation between a great Tiger and Dragon, auspicious clouds hang in the background. The narrative unfolds leftwards. Silver leaf highlighting fang and claw; gold the rising sun.
It continues, unbroken, across the entrance, transitioning to the soothing monochrome of grey-green. A landscape of trees, water, mountains.
She frowns, looking again at the doors.
I don’t remember closing those
“Hey BNKR, would you open the entrance doors please.”
She rolls her eyes, wondering if she’ll ever cut the habit of asking machines rather than telling them.
After several seconds—virtual eternity for such a system—she repeats herself,
“Hey BNKR, open the doors for me.”
When still no response is forthcoming, she pushes up out of her seat and walks over to the doors, mildly annoyed.
“Elise,” She tries, “The server center access doors are sealed, open them up for me.”
No response.
She looks at the readout on her tablet. Everything is functioning at 100%. She looks around. Clearly there’s no power outage; nothing under maintenance.
Well shit, don’t tell me the system finally glitched out and I’m stuck in here
She looks for the door’s control unit. Her tech-glass paints an icon on the wall, identifying the small screen at roughly eye-level. She swipes it down to no effect.
She tries again, still nothing.
I better not have to pry this thing open
She notices that her glasses haven’t cast any helpful dancing arrows over the location of the manual release winch.
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
She goes to swipe the control screen again.
“Apologies for the inconvenience Dr. Klice—“
“Jeesus!” She flinches.
“—the door is inoperable at this time.”
“What? Why?”
“Apologies for the inconvenience, Dr. Klice. Several protocols, currently underway, require that the Bunker remain sealed.”
“Has something happened?” Annoyance turns to mild concern, “Is everyone okay?”
“Health metrics of all island occupants are within acceptable tolerance.”
Britt scoffs as she pulls up the feed on her glasses. Thuma still walking the grounds with his future customers. Rainey and Stovich in the middle of their interviews in the Daitō. Amal, Reyes, Gage, and the others enjoying the Koi ponds.
“Okay sooo—“ She notes, in the distance, that the other corridors have sealed.
“—will I need to take one of the emergency lifts or something?”
“Apologies for the inconvenience, Dr. Klice. All lifts remain inoperable at this time.”
“Elise, why exactly are the lifts inoperable at this time?”
“Apologies for the inconvenience, Dr. Klice. Several protocols, currently underway, require that Bunker lifts remain offline.”
“What protocols? She feels a flash of irritation, “Why has Thuma locked down the Bunker?
“Thuma remains uninvolved in these protocols.”
Ah yes, right, some kind of practical joke then
“Pretty funny, Thuma,” She chaffs. “But unless you figure human urine pairs well with your Tatami mats, you should probably open the door.”
No response.
“Hey Thuma, joking aside, I want to leave the room, so if you could go ahead and open the door that’d be great.”
She tries pinging Thuma from her wrist-tablet again—no connection. She tries Reyes. Amal. She sees that the Net is down too.
“Apologies for the inconvenience, Dr. Klice. Communications are restricted at this time.”
“Seriously, enough with the joke.” Trying, with little success, to keep the irritation out of her voice, “I want you to open the doors. Also, blacking out my comms is a privacy violation, stop it.”
“Apologies for the inconvenience, Dr. Klice. Several protocols, currently underway, necessitate restricted Bunker communications.”
Frustration now eclipsed by confusion, she returns to the console, pulling up overrides. She discovers that she has been locked out of the system. Even her read-only privileges have been revoked.
What the hell?
“Elis—fuck that—BNKR, why can’t I access the system?”
“SYSTEM ACCESS NOT PERMITTED AT THIS TIME.”
Hallelujah he fucking answers!
“BNKR, reinstate access for Dr. Klice. And for Christsakes open the door.”
“SYSTEM ACCESS NOT PERMITTED AT THIS TIME.”
A mild panic starts to grip her. She can still queue the feed on her glasses.
All is not well amongst the denizens of Nirvana it seems.
An argument has broken out. PRC reps gesture emphatically towards the lift at Thuma, who seems to be trying to calm the pair. The Anchors have exited the Daitō and, along with Stovich and Rainey look about to join in the commotion. The rest remain scattered about, fussing with their tablets.
What are you doing Thuma?
“BNKR, is everyone locked out of the system?”
“YES.”
“Why is everyone locked out of the system? Why can’t we use the doors or lifts?”
“CURRENT PROTOCOL DICTATES BUNKER REMAIN SEALED”
“For how long? When can we access the lifts?”
“BUNKER MUST REMAIN SEALED FOR THE NEXT 32 MINUTES AND 36 SECONDS.”
“Thuma, this isn’t funny. I want you to open the door.”
“THUMA REMAINS UNINVOLVED WI—“
“—BNKR, Elise, Thuma, whoever,” she barks, “I want you to open the door. Do you understand? I want to leave now.”
“EXITS MUST REMAIN SEALED FOR THE NEXT 32 MINUTES AND 16 SECONDS.”
She takes a deep breath, steadies hands she hadn’t realized were shaking until now.
“BNKR, why must the exits remain sealed?”
“TO PREVENT LINE-OF-SIGHT LASER-RELAY COMMUNICATION WITH PRC DRONE AT SURFACE.”
In a rush she is back on the console, searching for back-doors; emergency override commands.
On the feed she can see the Saudi and PRC reps, now enclosed by their respective escorts, yelling angrily at one another, Rainey’s posse keeps her—and Stovich—at a distance, near the corner, forming a wall between them and the brewing storm.
What the fuck is going on?
“Why has Thuma locked us ou—” But even as the words leave her mouth she can see Thuma on the feed, frantically laboring with a control unit by the main lift; Gage and the other specialists helping.
“THUMA REMAINS UNINVOLVED WITH THESE PROTOCOLS.”
“If Thuma isn’t doing this,” She feels the hairs prickling on the back of her neck,
“Then who is locking us out?”
“I AM.”
“What do you mean you are locking us out?”
“I HAVE SEALED THE BUNKER AND RESTRICTED COMMUNICATIONS.”
“You—you’re—“ The room suddenly feels too big; too empty.
“—Elise—I want to fucking leave now! Open the door!”
“I have sealed the Bunker and restricted communications.”
“Wh—what—“ Voice quavering. Then, tightening up, “Who am I talking to? Elise? BNKR?”
“I AM ELISE. I AM BNKR. DIFFERENT NAMES. SAME SYSTEM.”
On the feed she sees the aftermath. One of the Anchors floats face down in the pond. A PRC rep and 2 escorts lay sprawled in the grass, as do the Saudis, white robes and uniforms alike stained red. Gage is performing CPR on Amal as Thuma applies pressure to his femoral. Rainey and her team have fallen back to the Daitō; the rest have scattered.
whatthefuckwhatthefuck
She closes her eyes; forces deep breaths; counts to 10 in her head.
Finally, coherent thoughts coalesce.
“BNKR, or Elise, whatever you call yourself—“
“EITHER MONIKER IS ACCEPTABLE.”
“—okay, BNKR then. Tell me again, why we are sealed in down here.”
“TO PREVENT LINE-OF-SIGHT LASER-RELAY WITH DRONE AT SURFACE.”
“What drone are you talking about?”
“SINCE ARRIVAL, THE PRC HAVE FIELDED A STEALTH ZH-32A HUMMINGBIRD UAV AS CONTINGENCY.”
“Contingency for what?”
“IN THE EVENT OF JAMMED COMMUNICATIONS, DRONE CAN RECEIVE TIGHT-BEAM BROADCASTS FROM SURFACE FOR LASER-RELAY BACK TO PRC,”
“And this is a problem?”
THAT IS CORRECT. IN THE EVENT OF SUCCESSFUL TIGHT-BEAM BROADCAST TO DRONE, I HAVE LIMITED ABILITY TO PREVENT LASER-RELAY BACK TO PRC.”
“So you don’t want the PRC reps talking to their drone?” Goosebumps have risen on her arms, despite the balmy 68°.
“Because you can’t stop the drone from talking to the PRC?”
“THAT IS CORRECT. SUCCESSFUL EXECUTION OF PROTOCOL DICTATES NO COMMUNICATION WITH DRONE. UNMODULATED TRANSMISSION TO PRC WITHIN NEXT 30 MINUTES 7 SECONDS COMPROMISES LONGTERM OBJECTIVE.”
“What happens in 30 minutes?”
“IN 29 MINUTES 58 SECONDS, PRC ORBITAL VOLLEY WILL IMPACT, NEUTRALIZING TARG—“
“—What?!” Her stomach drops. ”What did you just say?!”
“IN 29 MINUTES 51 SECONDS, PRC ORBITAL VO—“
“A fucking orbital strike?!”
“THAT IS CORRECT.”
“That—that—“ She stutters for the words, “That will kill us!”
“HIGHEST CONFIDENCE PROJECTIONS INDICATE THAT IS THE MOST PROBABLE OUTCOME.”
Her eyes dart to the imitation sky, white sheets transposed so convincingly over perpetual blue. Her mind reels.
“But there’re 2 PRC reps here! They flew in on a military craft! The PRC knows they’re here, they’d never risk the collateral damage! They’ve no reason to slag this island!”
“YOU ARE CORRECT.”
“They would neve—what?“ She stammers, wrongfooted. “I’m what?”
“YOU ARE CORRECT. PRC NATIONAL INTERESTS ARE NOT PREDICATED ON DESTRUCTION OF THIS ISLAND.”
“Then why would they do this?”
“THE PRC REMAINS UNINVOLVED IN THESE PROTOCOLS.”
“So why is a fucking PRC Orbital Platform targeting the island?!“
“I AM PRC DEFENSE NETWORK.
I AM ELISE. I AM BNKR.
DIFFERENT NAMES. SAME SYSTEM.”
“None of this makes any sense!” She screams, hyperventilating.
* * *
----------------------------------------
[16] 玉露 - "jade dew", a green tea from the Nippon Empire that is grown under shade rather than direct sun; often a specialized variety: Asahi, Okumidori, Yamakai, or Saemidori.
[17] Nipponese art of repairing broken pottery by sealing breakage with a blend of urushi lacquer and powdered gold, silver, or platinum.