Omega 28 Episode A

Episode A1: Arriving

The train comes to a complete stop at the station. The small jerk of the train bolts me awake. I loosen the grip on my handbag and sleepily gaze out the window. The station is much smaller than the one I left on Theta6.  The grime caked onto the lights gives the station an eerie glow.

"Last call! Omega28! Last call!" The stewards angry cries hurt my head, and I reluctantly roll from the seat to retrieve my bag. I look up to see that my trunk has conveniently lodged itself into the corner where the likelihood of getting it out seems slim. But I try not to be pessimistic and give it a go. I climb onto the seat, whose leather squeaks at my improper method of luggage retrieval.

With a sigh, I grab the difficult corner of my trunk and yank. It won't budge. I hop off the
seat and swiftly pounce onto the next, this one sinking to accept my weight. I try to pull the trunk this time but I only end up breaking my nail.

Pealing off the casualty of my stubborn trunk, I fly back to the first seat. I place my hands on the free corner of the trunk and pull for all I'm worth. My eyes clinched tight, I can feel it starting to move. Ah ha! I open my eyes only to realize that the trunk is not slipping from it's luggage rack prison, but I'm slipping away from it. Before I realize what's going on, my fingers slip from the trunk and I land flat on my ass in the center of the compartment. Just great.

"Need some help miss?" The voice is timid yet authoritative. I turn to see the steward leaning into the compartment, a puzzled look on his face. His voice is quite pleasant when he isn't screaming at you.

"I guess." I say half heartedly as I pick my self up off the floor. "The corner is just stuck."

The steward nods and I swear I see the corner of his mouth twitch just the slightest. He walks over to the luggage rack and points one finger at the luggage. I'm about to answer that the trunk in question is in fact mine when he places his finger on the corner of the trunk. With little strength he pressed corner and my trunk is released with a large thud that seems to hit me right in the heart. What an idiot.

"It happens all the time." He's smiling now but all I want to do is slap it off his face. "Don't worry you aren't the first one."

"Is that so?" I give my best, yet fake boarding school smile that one must give to be polite, and cock my head to the side. The nuns would be proud.


Episode A2: Still Arriving

I throw my trunk from the train, more out of annoyance than anger.  With lead feet I clunk to the platform.  I look left then right, not trying to spot anything in particular through the sea of people.  I start to kick my trunk further from the train than it fell, but seeing how far the bench is from my foot, I decide it’s not worth it.  I lazily toss my shoulder bag to the floor and plop onto my trunk.  Someone is supposed to come get me. I don’t know whom.  He said he’d find me.

I look uncomfortably around for a second before running my fingers through my long brown hair.  I don’t do it to make myself look good; I do it because I’m tired and bored.  Something snags in my hair and upon further inspection, I realize it’s my broken fingernail.  Now the snag will drive me crazy so I start to bite and hopelessly file it on my jeans. 

“Andi?”  It’s almost a question but partly said in a way a father scolds his children.  I turn to face the man who will run my life from this moment on, even when he’s dead.  He’s tall with a sturdy build, between his late forties and early fifties giving his hair a perfect salt and pepper look.  He’s dressed conservatively with khaki pants and a chocolate brown blazer.  The only thing that stands out on this man is the mustard yellow and burgundy tie that hangs over his dark gray shirt. 

I answer by standing up.

“I’m Dr. Smith.  I trust your journey was to your satisfaction?” 

This is Dr. Smith only vice, or annoyance, however you would like to put it.  He has a way of always speaking formally.  The man grew up in the center of British high society and could never let go.  He strings words together like no other man.  I’m sure he even talks to his wife in a formal manner.  “Why, Mrs. Smith, I do say you look lovely this fine evening.  Tell me, however did you manage to slip into such an exquisite dress?”  please… spare me the formality.

“Yeah, it was awesome.”  I make a point to be as informal and improper as possible. 
Some people say that sarcasm is my vice, but mostly an annoyance.  I have the dark gift of knowing exactly how to bother people.  I know exactly what pushes their buttons as soon as I meet them and then stuff tumbles from my mouth, intended or not.

“Very well then.  Shall we?”  He motions down the platform.

“We shall.”


Dr. Smith doesn’t offer to help me pull my trunk, and when we get to the elevator I’m huffing and puffing.  I vow to stab Dr. Smith in the jugular with my jagged fingernail once I catch my breath. 

I drag my trunk into the elevator and prop it up on its side, making a perfect seat for the ride up.  Dr. Smith hits the single button on the panel and the elevator shoots up the sixty stories of “guts”. 

“Guts” as I like to call them, is everything that makes the space colonies work.  Hallway upon hallway lined with doors that open to hundreds of rooms full of wires.  They may seem nondescript, but they keep the colonies from crashing into one another, give oxygen to the masses, runs electricity, water, and most importantly of all, keeps the colonies from hurling toward the crumbling earth killing all the Unwanted that reside there. 

Ding.

The elevator comes to a sudden stop and I almost loose my balance.  The doors open and just when I thought I was done dragging my trunk around I realize the task has only just begun.

“Welcome to Omega28.”  It’s the first thing that Dr. Smith has said in a long while and I’m slightly startled by it.

Omega28 isn’t the grandest of the colonies since no one actually lives here.  Omega colonies are mostly for businesses, factories, and organizations.  They are usually smaller and follow the same layout.  A large mall cuts the quad into fourths, but shortcuts have been worn into the grass.  A few trees and benches are strewn through out in no particular order, just there to be there.  Behind us is the elevator bank that takes people down below.  It’s small and reminds me of a pea pod, long with several beads etched into it.  But just above and beyond is the real spectacle.  Omega28, like many colonies has a glass covering, I call it the skin, so the outside can be seen.  The stars glow violently in a never-ending maze.  Several other colonies can be seen, just made out as twinkling silver in the distance.  In front of us is what I like the call the appendages of the beast that is a colony.  Three buildings sit on each side of the quad.  The one in the center has floor to ceiling windows, creating a building completely covered in glass.  The one to the left has windows too, but they are smaller and keep secrets behind their thin curtains.  The building to the right has no windows.  The best-kept secrets live in there, the ones that need to hide behind steel walls and locked doors.  I’ll probably never get to learn them.

“Welcome to your new home.”


Episode A3: My Desk

“Follow me.”  Dr. Smith is a man of so many words.  They are never cold or angry, just short.  He begins to walk away from me and I almost throw a fit like a child whose mother won’t buy her a toy.  How does he expect me to drag my enormous trunk over the vast lawn!  I roll my eyes and glare at the back of Dr. Smith’s head, willing it to explode.

“Just leave the trunk, it will be taken care of.”

Slightly bewildered I drop the trunk hard to the sidewalk, keeping my shoulder bag hugged around my body.  I take a few paces and then look back at my trunk.  It has only been a burden since I left but, now it seems sad to just leave it behind.  Every worldly possession I own is packed in that trunk, it’s like leaving my life behind. 
Something starts to move and I almost trip over a crack in the sidewalk.  I must pay better attention to where I’m walking, but there it is again.  I squint back at my trunk and my eyes widen.  The grass is moving.  I marvel as the blades of grass like an army of ants, carries my trunk across the lawn with the greatest of ease.  I try to keep up with Dr. Smith while keeping and eye on my floating trunk on it’s way to the dormitories. 
The walk across the lawn goes by very quickly; making it much smaller than it actually looks.  Dr. Smith leads me through the glass doors of the glass building.  I almost choke on my laugh.

The Lobby looks much like a jungle, with a red clay colored sidewalk winding through it.  Small waterfalls trickle, hidden among the green that swallows every wall and sections of the ground.  I follow a larger tree straight up and am astonished to see just how tall the building is.  The entire center is carved out, lined with hallways barely visible through the canopy of trees.  Elevators zoom people up and down to their destinations.  The entire building seems to be buzzing with excitement. 

At the sight of it my bad mood instantly disappears, perhaps working here won’t be so bad after all.  I’ve never worked in an African jungle before, and I’m looking forward to the experience.  Dr. Smith leads me through the foyer and to a bank of elevators.  He slides his key card across the reader and the doors open.  I enter the cart and turn to see the entire front panel filled with buttons.  They aren’t numbered, but labeled underneath in neat black letters.  I steal a quick glance at Dr. Smith hoping he won’t notice just how bazaar I think this place is.

“Isn’t it fascinating?  We just had them installed only a few weeks ago.”  He sounds like a proud father holding his first-born son.  “They are called ‘room to room’ elevators, or RTR as I like to call them!”  Dr. Smith lets out a chuckle to his own feeble attempt at a joke.  “They don’t just simply go up and down, no.  These elevators move from room to room!  It is just so much more efficient!” 

I’ve only known Dr. Smith for a few minutes, but it’s enough to see that the man only really gets excited about technology and efficiency.

He presses a button, and I read the label, “Circulation” before the elevator jerks to life. 
We zoom around with no idea as to where we are, as there are no windows in the cart.  I start to feel a bit nauseous, as the cart subtly sways back and forth with the turns.  Not seeing or flight path makes everything more heightened.  When we sway left and right I feel as if the cart might tip over and deposit me on the wall or ceiling, while Dr. Smith explains I should have suction cupped my shoes. 

I nearly fall over as the elevator slows and the doors open.  Weakly I stumble through the doors trying to keep my questionable train lunch down.  Dr. Smith leads me down a hallway with no trees but tope colored walls separated with cream molding.  We turn a corner and enter a drab room filled with gray-carpeted cubicles and no windows.  My earlier excitement sinks to the floor and I leave it there to be vacuumed up as we proceed. 

Dr. Smith leads me through pod after pod of whispers, ringing phones, shouting into telephones, typing keyboards, and squeaky desk chairs.  He stops at a pod towards the center of the room.  He motions to an empty desk.  I walk in and the gray carpet crushes me and my focus goes funny. 

“This will be your desk.”  He peeks over the walls.  “Looks like you got a great group here.”  He motions to each desk as he list of names but I can’t see who is sitting behind the choking gray.  “Andrew, Gile, and Lexi.  Just get situated and Lexi here will let you know what you need to do.”  He starts to walk away but turns quickly reaching into his pocket.  “Almost forgot!”  He places a small yellow sticky note to the carpet wall.  It sticks just long enough for him to turn and I reach out quickly to retrieve it from a long drop to the floor.  I look down to see the numbers “4676”.  A voice pierces my ear.

“Hi ya!”

Episode A4: Serial Killers in Hallways

The voice startles me and I quickly search for its source.  A bright blonde head has popped over the dull gray partition.  She has the biggest brightest and most sincere smile I have ever seen.  It almost borders on obnoxious, I’ve never liked super happy people, they just make me depressed. 

“I’m Lexi.  Welcome to glamorous Omega28!”  I suddenly catch the sarcasm in her voice and laugh slightly.  “Any way, I guess I’m supposed to inform you on what we do here in circulation, AKA, hell.”  Lexi speaks quickly but drags words like ‘circulation’ but cuts some short like ‘hell’.  Moving around the partition she bumps Gile’s chair.  A disembodied growl comes from his hole.  Lexi pops down on my desk and kicks her long legs like a three year old finally getting their motor skills. 

“So, all you really have to do take the paper from there,” she motions to a small cylinder with paper inside of it, “and look it up on the computer.”  I nod signaling her to go on.  “Then you double click on the reference number.”  As she does this a section of my desk moves away.  A large book slowly rises from somewhere below and I have to stop myself from looking down the hole.  Lexi opens the cover and flips through the thin glass pages.  Words and pictures dance around the page, jockeying to be read.  “Here, Next you highlight the selection.”  She drags her finger across a good portion of the page and the words are incased in a light blue.  “hit send,” The article appears on my computer, “print,” The article seems to appear like magic from the printer, spewing out so quickly I have to catch it before it flies across the room.  Lexi unceremoniously grabs the paper from me, rolls it into the cylinder and puts it back in its small house.  “And send!”  She pressed the red button on top and the cylinder instantly free falls from view. 

“Seems simple enough.”  I say still staring where the cylinder fell from grace.

“A monkey could do it.”  Lexi says irritated.  She scoffs a bit before going on.  “So what brings you here?”

I stop to think for a second.  What does bring me here?  It’s a simple question but I can’t seem to find the answer.  It seems my life has just lead me here, and that is simply it.  But I spit out an answer without making it look like I thought too much about it.  “I just, didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

“That happens.”  Lexi cocks her head to the side and gives a wincing face, trying to be sympathetic.  “Anyway, the day’s almost over.  I can show you to your room if you want?”

I nod and pick up the sticky note I was given.  “4676.  Where is that?”
Lexi lets out a chuckle, and I start to feel like and idiot for asking.  “That’s like four doors down from me!”  Her smile suddenly fades.  “Oh, you won’t like your neighbor though.”


Lexi leads me down hallways reminiscent of the horror movies I used to sneak into when I was little.  I fear that at any moment the killer will drop from the air vent and slit my throat so silently that Lexi won’t even notice I’m gone.  I decide I should talk to remind her that I’m still here. 

“So, how long have you been here?”  I’m not really interested, I just enjoy living.

“Me?”  As if there is anyone else I could possibly be talking to?  “Oh, a few years like three, or four?  I don’t know, I lost count.”  Lexi giggles a bit, a habit, I’ll learn, she has of laughing while talking.

“Cool.”  I nod as a swish sounds behind me.  With cat like reflexes I dodge out of the way.  A boy has exited a room.  No doubt the serial killer I had feared. 

With out a second thought, I pounce into a fighting stance, frozen, ready for anything.  The boy looks at me quite surprised.

“Whoa there!  Someone’s a little jumpy?!”  He has a condescending smirk on his face and I wish he really was a serial killer, so I could punch him. 

As quick as I hit the fighting stance, I’m back to cool calm and collected.  Lexi stifles a giggle. 

“Quinn, this is Andi Mitchell, she’s new.  Andi, This is Quentin Rhodes, he’s in our OPS division.” 

With the introductions made I smile.  “Sorry about that.  These hallways are creepy.”

Quentin laughs a high boyish laugh.  “It’s ok.  Good thing I’m not creepy, or I’d be in for a hurtin’.”  I smile politely at his un-funny joke as Lexi makes our escape.

“Well, I’m just showing Andi to her room, but we’ll catch up later!”  Quentin nods and turns back the way we came as we move forward.  We finally come to a door with a large industrial “4670” stenciled on it.  Lexi puts her bracelet up to a reader and the door slides open smoothly.  We pass through the opening and I almost gasp.