Control Room

Dr. Richard Lucas looked at his watch. It was 5:47, the sun just cracking through the horizon. Across his half-eaten doughnut, the second bought with his morning coffee, Richard saw that Rand’s car was already there. They had gotten into a game of one-upmanship, with each arriving earlier than the other. At this point, Richard was just trying to keep up.

He held the doughnut between his teeth, grabbed his coffee and workbag, and got out of the car. Immediately the doughnut dropped and fell into the mudded up dirt street. Of course it did. His ex-girlfriend, his son Jacob’s mother, not Arnold’s mother, probably would have made a demeaning comment to him if she was here. She always had to comment on his gut, or his comb-over, or his beard, but God forbid that he shaved it.

Richard spit some fresh morning phlegm, a mix of coffee and the cigarette he finished on the drive over, and looked at Rand’s car parked in front of the warehouse. And what a beautiful car it was. He walked toward the building, slowly breathing in the salty air from the docks around him. Even if it ground down his throat like sandpaper, it was sweet and refreshing.

The warehouse looked ordinary enough with its rundown, abandoned facade. Inside, one would expect to find the leftover remains of a toy factory, and yes, there were still broken action figures to step on. The factory was one of the many in the old warehouse district by the docks. If Richard arrived before dawn, while the fog was still creeping across the water and the occasional blare of horns from passing barges could be heard, he would imagine that he was in a 50s gangster film. One wrong step and he’d end up wearing cement shoes.

The one detail that would make you look twice at the building was the fingerprint scanner next to the door. Richard went up to it, pressed his thumb down, and the lock unlatched. He paused as his hand gripped the door’s handle. There was a misfire between his brain and his body that prevented him from moving forward. He shook it off, opened the door, and went inside. 

The warehouse was mostly dark except for the shadows cast from the lights that emanated from the small building within the building. This was where Richard was walking. Richard didn’t know who Rand had hired to make it but was sure that they were legally strapped down by enough NDAs to stop them from spilling the secrets of what was inside, if any of them were even capable of understanding.

As Richard walked, he stepped on one of those plastic action figures, rolling his ankle, and dropping him to the ground.

“Mother fucker.” He said to no one at all as his coffee dumped out and almost soaked his bag before he grabbed it. He used it to steady himself, get off his knees, and back to his feet. He breathed slowly, trying to fight off getting lightheaded.

A large shadow broke the light and loomed over him. Richard looked up; it was Rand.

“You alright?” he asked Richard.

“We could have had this place cleaned up.” Richard hobbled to his feet.

Jerome Rand looked different today; his short afro was gone, he had shaved his head and his beard. He was already wearing the white jumpsuit, the one he designed. He was ready.

“You good?”

“I’m good.” Richard limped forward, trying to walk it off as Rand disappeared inside the smaller building.

Richard paused again. He was having trouble forcing his body forward. Maybe his mind knew something that he couldn’t. But still, he pushed through the block and proceeded forward. Today was too important to start overthinking things. 

The building contained three rooms, The Ready Room (where Rand was), The Control Room (where Richard was going), and The Jump Room (where the experiment would take place).

As Richard walked, he noticed something odd. Something that hadn’t been there before. It looked like something had been written on the ground in front of the door, probably with chalk, and then wiped away. Strange, but Richard didn’t think more of it as he stepped on it and walked toward the Control Room.

The hallway, with its clean steel walls, bounced the light around, making you feel like you were entering a new world. So much different than the dark, damp warehouse that housed it.

Still hungry and under-caffeinated, Richard entered the Control Room, unloaded his bag and took out his notebook. He looked at the machinery in front of him; this was it. The past 26 months led to today.

Richard then looked through the window that led to the Jump Room and lost himself in its white walls. He thought about the experiment. He thought about everything it could mean. He thought about its success. He thought about what it could do for his children. He thought about all those people that doubted him throughout his life, and how dumb they would feel.

His watch clicked, as it always did on the hour.

It was time.