2041 Sanctuary (Dark Descent) (15 page)

When the doors opened, the barriers that prevented station users from plummeting to their deaths sank into the platform surface with a pneumatic hiss.

Sarah boarded, deciding to sit at a window seat which provided some interesting views as the train sped through different sectors, levels and chambers of the base. After a particularly long section of interconnecting enclosed tunnels, the monorail burst out of the darkness and onto the top surface of Sanctuary. Sarah couldn’t help but peer out from her vantage point in awe as the train took an elevated section of track towards its destination. The tower she had only glimpsed once before, located in the very centre of the base, cut a sleek profile high above, disappearing from view as it sliced through the realistic-looking blue sky of the great dome itself.

The spectacle of the rest of the dome level of the city was also beautiful to behold. Trees and plants dominated swathes of the landscape, interspersed with ornate buildings utilising the most modern and aesthetically pleasing designs. A few miles away she could also make out an impressive huddle of manmade skyscrapers,
or should that be domescrapers
, she wondered. And off to the right the flat landscape was punctuated by a group of high hills, bordering on small mountains, and at their feet what looked like a sparkling chain of lakes.

After a couple more stops, the train slowed again and a simulated voice announced the destination she wanted. ‘New Park Central station. Please enjoy your visit.’

Sarah departed the monotube and passed through the cleanest and most minimalistic station she had ever been in, the footfalls of the other passengers echoing between the glass confines and tiled flooring as they made their way out. Sarah took note that many of the people in this district wore casual and expensive looking clothing, compared to the more functional work attire of those she had been around at the start of her journey. As before, armed soldiers patrolled the area; however, these guardians wore a grey uniform instead of standard issue, the smart attire befitting their surroundings.

The gate system at this station matched the one she had previously used and Sarah flashed her card at the arch. Having been scanned, she moved off out into a pleasant sun-drenched plaza bordered by various exits and well-tended flowerbeds, the sweet scents drifting on a light breeze to prickle her senses.

Digital scrolling signposts guided her to the museum. Unfortunately, once she got there, she was unable to enter as she hadn’t the credits. More than a little disappointed, she spent the rest of the day wandering the area and looking for ways someone might escape. From a high vantage point, atop an observation platform, she couldn’t see any lift mechanisms, not one, throughout the twenty mile wide expanse, that led to the surface, which meant only one thing; they were located outside of the dome and the USSB itself, a fact that would prove to be a major obstacle to her plans.

That night, after returning to her new quarters, she slept well, tired after the day’s exploration and a lot of walking, which she was unused to after her long confinement. Like a finely woven silk sheet, the night slipped past and Sarah woke, the prospect of her new job the first thought to penetrate her mind. Deciding it prudent to dress in the grey uniform rather than go baggy casual, Sarah was careful not to open the blind of her window prematurely having given everyone an eyeful the day before.

After a quick breakfast of cereal and toast, she left the apartment for the museum once more; this time, however, it was seven in the morning. Outside the air was surprisingly crisp and fresh, almost as if she was on the surface rather than in the bowels of the Earth.

Normally starting a new job would bring with it a certain anxiety and thrill, but as she had no intention of staying there, or making a good impression, she just felt alert, and wary of the people she might meet. All she wanted was to earn some credits and then meet up with Trish and Jason at the earliest opportunity.

This time when she reached the impressive building of the Smithsonian Institution she was able to gain admittance via the workers’ entrance she had scoped out the day before. Reception guided her through some open-plan offices and up a flight of stairs to the archives department, where her enforced labour was to begin. Greeted by a tiny elderly woman whom Sarah towered over, her photo was engraved onto her new MF Card and she was then presented with a company computer phone. The phone had a direct link to the USSB’s cloud system, but also had a few credits on, perhaps enough to enable her to call Trish and Jason. Her spirits rising, the rest of the day flashed by as she bumbled along, forgetting most of what she was being taught, which was very little and all utterly tedious.

Rather than waste all the phone credits on a voice call, she sent a text message to both Trish and Jason and was overjoyed when she received replies from each of them. The following three days began and finished much the same way, although Sarah made sure to take photos and videos of the base whenever she was able; people needed to know about this place, she knew it was far too important to be kept hidden away like it was.

When the end of the week arrived Sarah’s desire to see her friends grew with each passing hour. They had arranged to meet at the museum on Saturday morning and Sarah found it difficult to sleep the night before; her excitement spilled over into the next day as she took her now usual route into work. As she’d been informed by her supervisor in the office, her credits for that week would enter her account at midnight on Friday and, thankfully, they were as good as their word.

Jason and Trish were both waiting for Sarah when she disembarked the first train of the day from her sector to arrive at New Park Central station. Approaching the gates, she drank in the sight of them as they stood impatiently at the main exit. Trish, her best friend, looked thinner than she remembered her, but then that was to be expected if she had been fed the same way Sarah had while in the military jail. Her hairstyle had also changed from being tied back to being let loose into a big frizzy explosion, like she’d worn it back in her uni days. Trish’s dark brown locks framed a harsh but attractive face, her light brown skin and full lips a giveaway to her mixed ancestry. Jason, the Welsh moron as Trish occasionally referred to him, sometimes to his face, didn’t seem to have lost much weight, but his tanned skin had definitely lost some of its colour, much like her own. Jason’s face, as ever, looked mildly comical to Sarah’s eyes, but then he did tend to play the fool which may have had something to do with her perception of him, besides the fact that a giant cheeky grin was never far away from hijacking his features.

After Sarah passed through one of the scanners, the three friends could contain themselves no longer; running forwards they embraced one another.

‘Why are you hugging me, too?’ Trish asked Jason, looking at Sarah over his shoulder and rolling her eyes in amused exasperation.

‘Just getting in the spirit,’ he said in his Celtic lilt.

‘You’re such an idiot.’ Trish laid a hand on his shoulder with a fond familiarity.

Sarah noted the inflection in her friend’s voice and realised for the first time that there might be something between her two pals, something more than friendship alone. She looked to Jason who winked at her. Sarah tried to hide her smile. Trish may have her hands full if he got his way. She’d always known Jason wasn’t as stupid as he made out and this only served to confirm her suspicions.

As the three of them chattered away excitedly they ambled towards the Smithsonian.

‘Can you believe this place?’ Jason said to Sarah, looking up at the dome and marvelling at the simulated sky. ‘It’s friggin’ awesome.’

Sarah gazed upwards too. ‘I don’t think I could ever get used to it, even if I lived out the rest of my days here.’

Trish made a disgruntled sound. ‘That may well end up being the case for us all. How are we ever going to get out of here?’

‘Get out?’ Jason said in genuine surprise. ‘Do you know what some people would pay to be in a place like this, to just know that it exists, even?
Hollow Earth
nuts would literally pass out in
I told you so
overload if they knew all this was down here.’

Trish gaped at him as if he’d just sprouted a tree out of his head and a long trunk from his nose. ‘Are you kidding me? You want to stay here, a prisoner for the rest of your life, no chance of going back to the surface – ever?’

Jason gave the question careful consideration. ‘Well, not the whole of my life, but a few years down here – imagine what you could learn. Don’t you think, Saz?’

‘I don’t plan on staying here any longer than I absolutely have to,’ Sarah said as they approached the entrance to the museum. ‘Although I think we are about to find out all we need to know right now.’ She indicated the large turnstile gates ahead.

The front of the museum consisted of a single convex pane of frosted acrylic nano-sheet, two hundred foot wide, with the name of the building in large, bold, chrome lettering arcing across its surface:

SMITHSONIAN

MUSEUM OF SANCTUARY

Offering their multifunction cards at one of the booths, they were each provided with a free information booklet and guide before proceeding inside. The front foyer was typically a large open area full of signposts, milling people and even the prerequisite souvenir shop off to one side. All three, however, were too busy reading through their respective pamphlets to take much notice of anything else.

‘Oh my God,’ Jason said, as he read through it, ‘are you two seeing this?’

Sarah was indeed seeing it all. Exhibits covering a mind-boggling array of everything and anything to do with Homo giganthropsis. From the earliest remains and artefacts to detailed models of huge unearthed complexes which, according to the text, dwarfed anything seen in Egypt, Mesoamerica or anywhere else found on the surface.

‘To process all this would take a lifetime,’ Trish murmured.

Trish was right; the Smithsonian had amassed a staggering amount of objects and this enormous multi-level museum only contained a fraction of what was still being found on an almost daily basis. Sanctuary was, for all intents and purposes, an archaeologist’s dream come true. Not just any old dream, but the mother of all dreams, a dream pumped up and engorged on a plethora of narcotics fit for a thousand drug-addicted rock stars ten times over. 

Sarah withdrew her phone and checked the battery, which was at ninety-three per cent capacity. ‘We should split up,’ she told them in a business-like manner. ‘Take your phones and take as many photos and videos as you can. Document
everything
you can, down to the smallest relic, and then meet back here when you’re done. When we get out this footage will be invaluable in proving what we’ve found down here and exposing the truth about Homo gigantis, and this base, too, for that matter.’

Jason looked at her with a sulky expression and Sarah raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘I was looking forward to enjoying this,’ he explained to her. ‘Now I’m going to have to rush around taking sodding photos like some demented tourist.’

Trish pouted her bottom lip out like a small child. ‘Ah, diddums.’

Jason gave her the finger and Trish retaliated by sticking out her tongue. Sarah was pleased to see her friends hadn’t let their recent experiences dull their natural ability to bicker with each other; strangely, this lifted her spirits as much as anything else.

‘Look,’ Sarah said to Jason, ‘I wouldn’t mind spending a few weeks looking round this place, but our priority should be to get out of here … and besides, it costs a bomb to get in and we’d have to work for months to afford to go round this whole place thoroughly; since I don’t plan on staying here longer than a week we better get cracking.’

Jason acknowledged her point with a grunt.

Agreeing to meet back at the cafeteria at noon, the three newly reunited friends split up once more to go their separate ways. As Sarah left Trish and Jason she felt a pang of loss to be leaving them again so soon.
Stop being a baby
, she chided herself;
you’ll be back with them again in a few hours
.

Sarah had opted to take the lower levels of the Museum while Trish took the middle ones and Jason the top. As she descended in a large glass lift, she had already stopped a few times to take pictures of some primitive giganthropsis wall art, extracted from one of the natural caves dating back even before Sanctuary itself, over a million years past. The designs were of human-like figures, plus animals and plants. By themselves they would have been the discovery of a lifetime, but within this museum they were merely a very small appetiser and she’d had to tear herself away for what treasures lay ahead. The lift reached the bottom floor and Sarah was already hypnotised by the sight of what lay in the large high-ceilinged room she walked out into. In front of her, standing in row upon magnificent row, were statues – giant statues.

Walking between them she examined the tourist information plaque that stood in front of one of the towering sculptures. According to this, they measured over forty feet high and had been some of the first major discoveries made by a team of explorers back in the eighteen hundreds. The scale of the statues wasn’t their only remarkable feature; each one had been carved from dense granite and in exquisite detail. The strange forms and shapes of the ancient peoples they depicted also captured Sarah’s attention. Realising she had been staring at one particular piece for a few minutes she grabbed her phone and took some video. This was one of the hardest things she had ever done, to walk through this place quickly was an impossibility as her thirst for knowledge and her love of archaeology exerted its powerful forces upon her, slowing her to a crawl.