“Breakfast time,” Nancy the lunch lady calls out over the loudspeaker. Most everyone gets ready for the day, and then makes their way to the cafeteria for breakfast. The 2000 inhabitants of 1A make their bed, put on nice clothes, etcetera. Clara, David, Don, and I, however, are busy using the Laboratory, more specifically, Test Tunnel G. There are 3 test tunnels situated inside of 1A known as 1G, 1H,1 and 1I. Our tunnel was given the designation 1, while various sections of the tunnel have a letter name. These testing areas take hours to disable and turn off, so it seems we can’t make it to breakfast. “Great, you made us miss a meal again, Steve,” Don states in a sarcastic tone. He’s just joking, that’s the kind of person he is. Still, it is always a little rude.

I began reading out the results of the proofing test we performed on the machine. These tests are required so the staff knows it won’t blow up the cave. The staff, mind you, run 1A and control everything that goes on. Going through the computer and printing out the correct page, my heart fills with excitement. It seems that all of this work is paying off. We’re not finished yet, but once we do get our device to work, the world can be brought back to normal. I happen to think finding a way to stay on Earth is certainly better than fleeing to a place like Mars, which some people actually did. Let’s just say that they didn’t survive for very long under the intense radiation and limited food supply. “Hey guys, get ready for this,” I tell everyone, “Test 1 experienced a failure. Test 2 succeeded. Test 3 succeeded.” Immediately, the laboratory lit up with excitement, and an overall good mood swept over us. The team starts cheering, as it seems there are only a few things left to fix. It’s pretty much like a rave in this little chamber. Without thinking, David then offers, “Hey, you guys can go get breakfast while I disable the laboratory and shuty off the machines. You have earned it, especially Stephen for coming up with the device.” After saying that, David realizes he put more work on himself and realized that probably wasn’t the smartest option.

I then start packing up my things. Due to radiation exposure from my device, the staff  have only allowed us to test once every 3 days. There’s no sense in leaving everything here. All of us, with our bags full, head to the rooms in the quarters section of the tunnel so that we can unpack. Then, it's off to the cafeteria, or “Nancy’s Poison Place” as we like to call it. The cafeteria is a distance away from the living quarters, being on an entirely different floor, and over at the other end of the tunnel. It takes around 10 minutes in total to get there, plus additional time in line. Usually, wait time is around 30 minutes to an hour, depending on if the Servetron 5000 is working. That’s one of my personal inventions, and it wasn’t the best idea I’ve had, in part because it’s always broken, and it either gives you way too much or way too little food. We make our way down the line, and it’s smells aren’t very appetizing. This is normal. We’re basically fed dehydrated TV-Dinner like meals, as these could keep for years without spoiling. At least  they are fortified with vitamins and minerals. We always offer to make Nancy a dedicated cooking robot, but everytime she says no. It’s probably for the better though, considering how poorly the Servetron 5000 works.

This time, there aren't even any breakfast options. I just decided to go for the gluey mashed potatoes with a flavorless gravy and salisbury steak. “Looks delicious,” shouts Don, a few places behind me in line. We all head over to our table that we always sit at. You can tell it’s ours because of the various chemical stains. These were permanent, but it’s not like that matters as staff members never clean the tables anyways. Whatever is on my plate is quickly scarfed down so that we can discuss our findings. “So, just need to fix the device for test one, then the world is back to normal. Isn’t that amazing?” Our table gets filled to the brim with excitement again, the same kind as had in the laboratory. Clara, in her light Scottish accent, declares, “None of us are sure of how this thing works, but we do know that it was all because of you, Steve. Without ya, we’d be nowhere by now.” I quickly begin to cringe, because while I appreciate hearing what Clara said, it’s simply not true. Everyone worked on this equally. So what if I came up with the idea? “It was a team effort, everyone. Now, we need ideas.”

Proposals for how to fix my device start flooding the room, growing louder and louder. Infact, we were even louder than all of the other tables combined. Some random person then starts screaming at us to shut up, and we obliged, beginning to discuss in a more civilized manner. It takes a few hours of conversing between ourselves to actually come to an idea of what needs to be done. Afterall, this will have a major impact on history, and the world.

Eventually, we came to the conclusion that we must strengthen the machine’s resistor arms by a factor of two. Everyone headed their separate ways to have the parts ready for our next eventual meeting. It was my job to collect the aluminum needed for the arms, and so I had to secretly borrow (without the intention of giving back) some of Nancy’s silverware. These, of course, would need to be melted down and formed into wire-thin rods. Clara’s job was to come up with the springs needed to apply tension for the arms, while David and Don focused on a plan for revising the machine’s coding. 

We decided to meet again, just a day later, to discuss the progression made in our tasks. I mentioned how I had mostly finished the work already. “The bulk of it is done, but my arms could be made better with more time,” I humbly stated. Aside from that, and Nancy freaking out about a missing stack of silverware, it did go quite well. Testing these out will be amazing. “Well, I’m having a wee bit of trouble procuring some springs,” Clara told us. She continued, “These aren’t the easiest to come by.” The scientist starts to go on about how none of 1A’s shops had any small metal springs. Instead, she was required to fashion her own. After the meeting, it took a few hours before any real progress was made, but after that, one spring after another came out like in a factory.

Another 2 days go by, and we’re all longing to get back to work. David hasn’t shut up about it, which is unusual as he’s the quiet one. Anyways, we’re scheduled to enter the room after dinner time. Dressing up, everyone gathers their supplies, and we shuffle in one by one. The machine is then removed from the test tunnel and brought to the main laboratory room where we can work on it. You see, our room is on the side of this large testing tunnel, and there’s large glass windows so we can see in the tube. The middle window has a rail system that my machine is attached to, so that it can be placed in and out of the testing tunnel with ease. We proceed to work on our device for the next couple of hours, until it is complete. Really, this was no big deal for us. Just a few minor changes. Still though, everyone was focused, even Don who is usually cracking jokes by now. Afterwards, I attach the power wire into the power supply unit (PSU), and everything is placed back inside the tube for testing. 

The computer runs each trial, recording what happened onto the computer. I print out the results and read them. “Test 1, success. Test 2, success. Test 3, failure. As we know, test 3 is not critical to the functioning of our device, which actually did pass this test during the last trial.” Silence goes throughout us, and a certain tension enters the air. After a minute or two of pure shock, David falls to his knees and cries tears of joy. He emits screams so loud, they could probably hear it in tunnel 2A, which is 1A’s more standard civilian focused sister, and is situated a great deal of miles away. The problem can be solved. We have fixed the world! Well, we will fix the world when we activate the machine anyways.

Clara decides to let out a proclamation, “Let it be known from this day onward, the damages of this great devastation will be no more!” She presses the big red activation button. Click. Click. Click. Breakers are thrown, and the machine comes to life. A slew of scratchy mechanical noises are made, lights go on and off. A buzzing alarm begins to sound. To any other, this would be scary, or annoying, but it was a beauty to my ears. The noises are so loud that you almost get lost in the vibrations. Wait, vibrations? The machine has started to vibrate and shake erratically.

Clara then screams at me, “What’s happening? Steve, you’re closest to the power switch, so turn it off!” Hmm, it appears I am the closest. My machine, though, it was my brainchild and not theirs. I get to decide the future of my device. Turning it off now would have a high chance of destroying it anyways. “It will work. Put faith in me! As you know, I’m not an idiot.” As I say that, all of my friends get this horrified look on their faces. Are they seriously angry at me? I am saving the world, and they are so selfish as to take it away. Just then, the machine makes a new noise. It sounds like fluctuations from the power supply unit. I ran over to the control board with a crazed look in my eyes. 30 megawatts. The machine seems to have massive amounts of power that it should not be drawing. 30 megawatts is far too much for our components to hold up. I may have made a mistake! Quick, it turns out I do need to shut down the power.

Boom! Everything goes bright. My ears ring as a copper taste floods over all nine thousand taste buds. It must be blood. My arms and legs flow with pain, my chest an inferno. Oh dear, what have I done? Everyone was put at risk for this silly contraption. It should’ve been stopped as soon as the chance was presented. Now gasping for air which doesn’t seem to come, the error of my ways is apparent. What began as a bright flash is now fading away. Lightheadedness ensues, and it’s not out-runnable.

I begin to wake up some 8 minutes after passing out. An intense smell of smoke brings water to my eyes, and nausea to my stomach. It appears I am still here and alive, so there’s one good thing. What, however, has become of Clara, David, and Don? That was one heck of an explosion, which caused me to go into unconsciousness for what felt like an eternity. They must be found at all costs. Abandonment is not an acceptable outcome. Looking around, my vision is completely blocked by thick billowing smoke. “Hey, are you all ok?” I ask, alarmingly. Now flames are visible in the test room, and they are indeed growing. “Please show your presence,” was what I hopelessly stated, before I heard another noise. “We’re, cough—, we’re ok.”

Relief begins to come through me, and out comes a heavy exhale. They are alright. I could never have lived with myself if that mistake were to cause their deaths. Something like that should land me life behind bars, but alas, they are alive so there’s no point in dwelling on it. That sudden juicy hit of relief quickly turned sour, as I remembered that this laboratory and likely the entire tunnel have experienced some form of damage. Hopefully it isn’t severe. There is a burnt smell of plastic, hinting at the computers melting. In all of this chaos, I run up to the window and wipe my bloodied hands against it in an attempt to clear off the grime and fog. YOu can see the machine, but it looks to be in good condition, except for a massive hole where the PSU was. The blast must have occurred at the rear corner of the PSU, causing it to shatter and explode outward, but protecting the machine. It was still covered in soot, and the frame was warped, but on the inside, everything except for the part which exploded should be okay.

Don exhaustedly yet angrily shouts to me, “Steve, what are you doing? Get one of those gosh darn fire extinguishers now!” White plumes of dust begin to coat the air, and it forces me to use my lab coat like a mask, acting as a particulate filter. It would’ve been impossible to breathe otherwise. Having started my fair share of fires, I know how these devices work quite well. The pin gets pulled, the handle gets pushed, and the base of your fire needs to get sprayed in a sweeping motion. Though, it is different this time. Never have I ever dealt with a fire this big. It feels like you’re getting cooked in a giant oven. Nevertheless, I try the old and proven technique. It sort of works. There is a fire right in front of Don, so we work together in extinguishing that one. Right behind him was Clara and David. I smile with a thankful look on my face, but they don’t do so much as to even glance at me. I feel completely and utterly ashamed. 

The intercom kicks on, and it seems an announcement from the staff is coming in. The speaker plays in a warbly and distorted way. “This is a message from the staff. 1A is experiencing a severe fire. From camera footage, we can conclude that the fire has spread from Science Laboratory 1G throughout most of the cave. Do not attempt to go outside unless you want to experience vast amounts of radiation, and likely death.” I look at everyone and we all have the same expression. Oh man. “Go to the emergency shelter immediately!” it continues, “Do not take any belongings. Head to the shelter immediately!” Screams and crashing can now be heard from deeper within 1A. All 2000 people are panicking, that you can tell.

I see the exit door is behind the group, which gives me an idea. We’re going to need mass amounts of water to put this massive fire out. Just a few hallways down is the water control and filtration room. From there, we could drastically increase the water pressure, causing 1A’s mains to burst, which would flood the system.  Subsequently, this would quench all of the fires. I relay my plan while the fire extinguisher I’m using empties. They only last about 30 seconds at best. “What? Are you crazy?” Clara rhetorically asks me. Don agrees with her, saying,” That couldn’t possibly work, I mean come on.” Just then I was about to give up on that prospect, however, David came to the rescue. “No, Steve’s right. I mean, he's a moronic monster who could well have killed us, but in this regard, his idea seems to be the only viable option.” After a minute he gets everyone else to agree, and so it’s settled. Our plan is to break the tunnel’s water supply.

Clara glares at me, “Well, we better get going. The extinguishers went out a long time ago.” And so we did. It’s kind of ironic though. The only way to save tunnel 1A is to break it. David reluctantly opens the door. It’s obvious he’s terrified. The blaze outside Laboratory 1G goes up to the ceiling in certain parts. Luckily enough, most of our passage is clear. I help everyone out the door as we hack up phlegm. What an awful day this is panning out to be. Anyways, we exit our room and begin south, closer to the main entrance. An offshoot of the upcoming hallway should lead to the Water Control and Filtration Room. What seemed like a short distance in my head now feels like miles as we trudge through the billows and billows of smoke. The only signs of life you can see are a few scurrying rats and cockroaches. It seems everyone made it to the evacuation room.

As we come up to the next hallway, which has our destination room, the strangest thing happens. A cry for help is audible. My aforementioned thinking was wrong. This sounds like the scream of a child, and I turn out to be correct. We turn the next corner and see a child, no more than 7, crying for help. He appears to be pinned under a piece of debris. I can’t believe that the fire caused this. Afterall, 1A is state of the art and was supposed to be fireproof. This is the silly reasoning for a lack of fire suppression systems. The child begins to plead with us, “Waaaa! Help me please. I’m stuck!”

We all look at each other in disbelief. How could someone leave their child in this state? Don rushes over. “Hey kid, here let me get this off you.” He tries lifting the debris, a piece of the ventilation conduit, but it must be made of steel. It’s that heavy, and Don is struggling, so Clara and I pitch in. Meanwhile, David starts fiddling with his hands in the corner. I place my hands around the hunk of metal as we all get ready to live. Don times us in, “One, two, three, now!” The weight of this thing is immense, but it’s three against one.

The little boy has been freed, and Don picks him up. He begins to probe the boy’s memory, “So, did you see where your parents went?” The kid begins to sob, and he seems visibly depressed. He tells us that his name is Kyle, and that his parents left him there. They said that there would be help upon their return. I guess the staff would rather leave a child to die than rush out to his or her rescue. I look at Kyle, and not being very good with kids, I try to explain the situation. “Well, small person,” I say, “We need to go into the Water Control and Filtration room in order to turn up the pressure which will cause an overpressure of the Bore-Tunnel 1A’s pipes and lead to critical failure, causing very large leaks. That will suppress the fire, and put us out of this predicament. It seems you may need to travel alongside us for the time being.” Everyone looks at me like I’m crazy. Kyle then turns and goes, “What? I don’t, um, know what that means. I just want my daddy.” Wow, I really am terrible with kids.

We continue on our way down to the water control room. It’s not too much further, but the situation in this tunnel has since gotten a lot worse. The fires, while not seeming to have grown much, have definitely weakened 1A, as you can see debris everywhere. On a scale this bad, the support systems must be severely weakened. Unless we can get this under control, it’s a ticking time bomb. “This fire must be heatin’ up the steel that holds this tunnel together. You better know where it is we are going,” exclaims a worried Clara.

Just then, the intercom starts up again, and that voice we heard earlier has returned. This time, they sound exponentially more worried. “From our headcount, six people appear to be missing from the emergency room. If you are still and there, or still alive for that matter, get to the shelter now. The tunnel can only take this fire for about 30 minutes longer. After that, we do expect a collapse. This obviously is not a drill or a joke.” Blah, blah, blah. The person talking through the speakers then puts on a recorded robot message. It plays on loop. “Whoop, whoop! Proceed to the emergency shelter. Whoop, whoop!”

The kid, Kyle, is of course being overwhelmed by all of this. He begins thrashing around in Don’s arms, clearly in a panic attack. Trying his best to subdue the kid, Don tries to calm him down through words. “It’s okay, buddy,” he goes. “I promise, we ‘ll get you out of here. We just have to stop the fire first. While we continue on towards the room with Kyle continuing to struggle, everyone feels even more tension mounting. David, now pale in the face, informs us that, “Even when we bust the main, it’s going to take at least 20 minutes to take out the fire and cool the supports. We are running out of time!” “Shut it, man!” I shoot back. Then, in an attempt to copy Don’s attitude and demeanor towards Kyle, I tell the boy that all will be alright. “Really, little person. We will get this whole ordeal thoroughly sorted out, and you just might manage to survive.” I really need to work on that. The voice is there, but embarrassingly, Don still needs to translate. Clara jokes, “Jeez, we really got a super-genius over here, don’t we? You don’t even know how to talk!” She chuckles, as does David, Don and even Kyle. I smirk in response, but deep down, that really hurts. 

Eventually, we made it to the door. Even this presents a problem. Clara runs up to the door, and tugs at it with all of her might. It seems that she’s bursting at the seams, not the door. I swear you could see steam billowing from her ears. “This little door is harder than it looks!” Don looks toward Clara and smugly replies, “Nah, I think it just needs man’s hands.” He tries the same thing, and I guess the steam from before has now managed to blow off his head entirely. Don bursts into an energetic shouting fit before he gives up as well. “Rats! I forgot. You need a staff key card to unlock it.” Silence. Everyone is thinking the same thing. Did we really come all this way to fail? Kyle tries to butt in, however we quickly shush him. Now isn’t the time to talk about little kid things. We need to be serious. “Hey, my dad—.” “Shush,” we all replied in unison. Kyle, however, did not give up so quickly. “Will you listen to me? Dumb grown ups. My dad has a key card.” We don’t tell the boy, but it’s pretty much the general consensus between us that his father abandoned him.

It’s hard to believe that there is nothing we can do to get beyond this door. In all my life, I’ve never given up. After all, I am one of the world’s top scientists. Why should this be any different? Presented with challenges, this man has always persevered. Heck, in Calculus class, getting my perfect scores required studying  27 hours a day! All of my past goals have been met, due to perseverance no less. Giving up is the single worst thing you can do, yet it seems inevitable now. This little door is preventing anything from happening. The one thing that can be done to save this cave and it’s inhabitants lies but a few inches away, sealed by this thin unbreakable barrier. Why me? Why now? Though I take it that this whole thing is my fault anyways. It was my selfishness and stupidity. Listening to my fellow scientists and shutting that deathtrap of a machine down would’ve been the best course of action. Well, what does it matter now? Hindsight is 2020, and I am truly ashamed.

The microphone clicks on and blares out, “20 minutes until collapse. We are missing six people. Report to the emergency shelter now!” 20 minutes is the same length of time it would require to stop the fire and cool down the cave to safe levels. We have now gone past the point of no return. David weeps, Clara doesn’t let out a peep, and Don tries to sleep. I pound on the door with all of my might, even  under the realization that these attempts are futile. Kyle then looks at me and asks, “Am I gonna live?” Oh jeez, this is the question of this century. How am I supposed to answer that? “Well kiddo, you see, you’re not going to, umm—.” “Well spit it out, mister,” He interrupts. “Look, the truth is, this cave is going to, well, how do I put this? Here. If things still turn sour after 10 minutes, we are heading to the emergency shelter. Okay bud?”

“Son!” another voice calls out. Could it be? The boy wasn’t abandoned for good. “Dad!” Kyle screams out to the voice. “I’m okay. These people are with me. I think they’re those science-thingies guys that are really smart.” Well I’m flattered. I’ve never received a compliment like that. Everyone rises to their feet as the boy’s father draws near. As he clears the smoke, it’s obvious his face shows anger, but why? The father’s slow approach turns into a run, but he isn’t looking at Kyle. He’s looking at me! “You,” he growls, “You did this.” The man then comes up and rears his fist. Fueled by hatred, the fist draws closer and is about to make contact with my face. “No!” Kyle shouts out, trying to stop his father. Words aren’t enough, however, to stop a moving fist, so it did of course hit my face, albeit with less force. Don speaks up, “Yeah, Steve kind of deserves that. Listen mister, we need your help.” “Mister?” he shoots back, “You address me as Sir Williamson! We all know it was your little experiment that has gotten out of hand. There I was, about to solve the math problem that puzzled even the greatest of minds, and now you’ve gone and stolen the spoons to make a bomb.”

How dare he. I know this man, and his little stuck up attitude. He’s a moron who should’ve given up long ago. Call my contraption a bomb? How preposterous. And the answer to his question is 424.5343, which even a baby could figure out. Don reattempts communication, saying, “Look, we got maybe 15 minutes to get inside that door. Your son told us that you have a keycard. If you open up this room for us, we can save literally everyone.” Puzzled for just a minute, Williamson comes to the realization of what we’re trying to do. “That would take 25 minutes,” he comes back, “You’re too late.” Don continues to play with the stubborn man, saying, “Please Sir Williamson. It’s this or nothing.” The mathematician then walks up to the door and unlocks it. Has he finally had a change of heart? Williamson says one last thing. “There. It’s open. At least this will eliminate  4 unneeded variables from the world. Come here, Kyle.”

THe little boy leaves us as he and his father run to the emergency shelter. There’s a 15% probability that this emergency shelter will hold strong during collapse, and a 0% probability that they would ever escape. These survivors would be sealed in their own tombs. There may be merely a fraction of the time needed left, but we will do everything in our power to prevent collapse. I will not be the cause of death for so many innocent lives!

Creak. Creak. Crash! It sounds like a section of the ceiling further up this hallway has just collapsed. “Oh no! We gotta hurry!” Clara exclaims. Luckily, that section is far ahead and won’t interfere with our escape, but who knows if our route will collapse at any second. Everyone rushed inside the Water Control and Filtration Room. It’s a little louder than I thought it would be, but I guess that makes sense. The pumps need to be big and powerful enough to supply the whole of 1A with water. Not only is that a massive amount of space, but also an equally massive amount of people using the water. As we draw closer to the pumps, this deafening noise only grows.

It will be impossible to work under these conditions. The only thing still going for us is that all of the lights are still on. Clara tries to talk to us, but it’s completely overcome by the room’s massive droning. David, though, knowing 1A like the back of his hand, gave us a signal to follow him. We trust David, of course. Afterall, he has been right about most things so far. He leads us down a twisted set of stairs, which are made of this thin metal, to a room beneath that of the main pump level. The noise is a little less, and the loudest of shouts were audible. “Put these on!” David screams, pointing at these odd devices on the ground. Almost like a space helmet, they completely enclosured your head from the neck up, and they sealed tightly. Nothing seemed to change with these on, though, and David signaled us to go back upstairs. The noise was getting worse again. Then the use of these helmets was revealed. 2 little buds from inside automatically inserted deep into my ears. Loudly through the buds, I hear David. “There, that’s better. I designed these myself. The maintenance crew loves them.” He wants  to go on forever about the invention, but Don reminds him of the task at hand.

We ran back up the stairs and through a door labeled “Main Pump Room.” This room, of course, housed the pumps, which had many pipes and gauges protruding in every which way. I’ve never seen anything like it. Shiny stainless steel hoses in a non-ending ballet, connecting to various tanks. It should, in all honesty, be considered a work of art. Don then commands me, “So Steve, turn up the pressure and let's blow this puppy.” “Well, about that,” I cheekily responded, “Do I look like a plumber to you?” We do nothing for a few minutes, and then Clara joins in the conversation. “Well, I guess it takes a woman to do the important things, doesn’t it?” she asks, rhetorically of course.

She then steps in front of us, and cracks her knuckles. I hope Clara knows what she is doing, because I’ve never seen her work with plumbing before. One wrong move, and our shot could be over with. Immediately, grabbing different handles, knobs, and valves, Clara turns them all counterclockwise to open. David, now back to his horrified self, begins to holler, “What are you doing?” Before he could even finish that sentence, an alarm inside the room went off. It’s sound penetrated straight through the helmets. I guess David programmed these to only filter out the pump noise. “What?”  Clara comes back, “That’s probably an overpressure alarm, ya numbskull.” “Clara, I know every little technical detail about this place,” he responds, “I know all the ins and outs. That is definitely not an overpressure alarm in the pipes’ TUrn the knobs back now!” She scoffs at David’s remark, visibly angered. Now is not the time to be entitled. It seems Don agrees with this, as he calls out, “Just listen to David!” Clara, however, shouts back, “Or what?” 

Bang! One of the filters just bursted. It’s gushing out water from just a small  crack. “That alarm means this place is going to blow,” David struggles saying that sentence, probably due to the fact that he is telling us that a certainty of death draws closer. Immediately realizing the depth of the situation, Clara turns to the knobs. With that alarm, still loud in our helmets, she knows what must be done. The water, which was gushing, now begins to spray as the crack in that filter grows. It’s like a pressure sprayer. Clara turns the knobs back one by one, and nothing happens! The water keeps coming and coming. It takes about 30 seconds for what she had done to come into effect. Eventually, David took a medical kit off of the wall and used that tape to seal up the crack for now. 

I think about all the time we had just lost, and the fact that we are pretty much out of time already. We’d have to pump out a lot more water than before to quench this fire in time. Who knows how much more time will be wasted? Then it hits me. “Hey, I have an idea. What if we turned down the valves leading to the filter, and just turned up the pump capacity?” I mean, in principle it makes sense. Maximize pumping, and minimize the volume needed to be filled. In essence, this should work. David then tries to explain, “Navigating these pipes has always been an issue, not only for me, but also the maintenance crew. You'd have to be a genius to figure out what goes where.” I think we’re lucky, because I am a genius. There’s only ten minutes left, so I better make this count. Disassembling this mess in my mind will be quite a task, but a scientist must never give up! Bypassing the filters better work, or 1A is in a whole mess of trouble.

It takes a few minutes of looking over everything, but I get a rough understanding of the layout. This mess of pipes was really just one big equation that is dying to get simplified. Around 8 minutes left. The creaking and crashing from collapses outside is now starting to get louder than the pumps. That’s really saying something. Still, however, it seems our location is relatively safe until the full collapse comes. Anyways, I made a map of the layout in my head. Various locations around tangled mess, including nozzles, spigots, large levers, just to name a few things that are scattered throughout. Judging by etches on a few pipes, you can get a good idea on what is flowing to where. “Well, are you ready man?” Don asks me, nervously, which is odd because I never see this emotion from him. “I’m as ready as ever,” I try to assure everyone. Ok, time to begin!

Then, all of the sudden, spark, spark, crash! David cries out in horror, “Help, I’ve gone blind!” “No you haven’t,” Clara laughs, “The tunnel's power wires must’ve finally melted. That doesn’t matter though. You did put headlamps somewhere on these helmets, right?” THe room goes quiet for a few seconds as we all absorb the bitter truth. Our only source of light came from the fixtures above, which are now out of power. “Wait,” Don tries to understand, “If we’ve lost electricity, how come the rest of this room is still running? David explains that the pumps run off of a series of generators. The cables from these generators are buried in the ground, so there’s no way to attach these wires to the lights. That would take too long anyways. Whoever designed this place should get an award. I try to fix our situation and continue forward with the plan, but it doesn’t work. My hands fumble around, and without vision, the layout predictions are very inaccurate. Only about 7 minutes left now, and it’s apparent we need a miracle. One soon hit me. “Wait, what if we light this room on fire?”

They must all think I’ve gone mad. Afterall, fire is the one thing we’re trying to put out, Don predictably talks back, “Ok, so you were just trying to kill us this whole time.” “Look,” I try to make him understand, “We can’t see a thing like this. There needs to be a lightsource. However, the only lightsource readily available at the moment are the fires outside this door.” The idea is crazy, sure, but it just might work! Clara, however, finds it her duty to put an end to this all.  “Just stop it,” she goes, “We’ve run out of time, and there is not much we can do now. If you are serious about living, then follow me.” Serious about life? How dare she! I almost never fail. We have to make do with what we have. Though, now it seems I have joined the minority on this matter. David and Don both side with Clara, but I’m certain it’s simply out of fear. Clara, however, goes on, “We need to get to that emergency shelter. Who knows? Maybe they can find a way for us to escape that space. I can hear her walking around the room, but it’s pitch black, and hearing is all I can do. She feels around until the steps are found, and starts up them. To my dismay, David and Don follow her.

“No, we must not give up! Think of the outcome. We cannot give up in the inhabitant’s time of need!” Don retorts, “Look man, don’t talk to us about saving these people. It’s you who doomed them! There is nothing we can do anymore. Just come on. You can figure something out when we get to the shelter.” I hesitantly reply, “Okay,” and feel my way up the stairs as well. Once we make it up to a flight, the earbuds in our helmets retract, and we are subject, once again, to more noises from the outside. Creaking and moaning continue. Every once in a while, you can hear a full on collapse in the distance. The lights outside are useless outside just as they are in the Water Control Room. A blazing fire takes their place instead, and one ups the electric lights by choking us out. “Follow me,” David sputters out weakly. Jeez, it must be over a hundred and twenty degrees in here. Now we have to make it all the way back to that shelter in this heat? The group continues on, and notices that I am not.  David commands me, "You have to hurry!"

Instead of listening, I simply stare into the fire. This is my defeat. I couldn’t beat this awful chemical reaction. Is there really nothing to do anymore? Then, after staring at the group defiantly, I break and run back to the Water Control and Filtration Room. I do this, not before picking up a few pieces of flaming debris, which is scattered across the floor. Then, these get thrown into the room. It’s not much, but it should give off enough light. While dashing into the room, Don screams at me, “No!” Sorry, but it’s too late. I have already sealed my fate. So now I have around 5 minutes. Perfect. Running down the stairs, you can see that the fire idea is working. Things there are now dimly lit and accessible. Eventually, the helmet’s sound suppression system activates, and the now familiar earbuds plunge deep inside. This is it. Now, we’re in a do or die situation. I suppose that everyone is close enough to the emergency shelter by now. They better be. I’m gonna make sure to blow water out of this place like Poseiden himself was down here guiding it. It will at least be enough to make that idiot mathematician squeal. Running down the steps, my feet end up taking me to the pumps, where I can begin the work. There’s 2 big valves, one red, and one unpainted. If I am correct, turning the unpainted valve will raise overall pressure. This will not be enough though, because simply raising the pressure will cause water to spew out of the weakest points, the biggest of which are now in the filters. No, I will also have to eliminate the filters from this equation. Luckily, there’s 3 smaller valves with gauges affixed, all of which are to be turned off in unison, ridding the filters of access to any more water. These must be turned off near the same time, because allowing the pressure to build up in just one of these choke points would make the valve harder to turn, and usher in the option for a rupture. After doing this, I must work fast, as the filters run a risk of overheating and subsequently catching fire. Now, while these two steps would generally be enough earlier in the disaster, there is only around 5 minutes left, so we will need even more fire quenching power. This is what bothers me the most. The pressure would be maximized to its full extent already. Come to think of it, the pumps probably weren’t even designed to go a hundred percent. My eyes darted around the room, searching for an answer. No more valves can get shut off, so what is there left to do? 

In my peripheral vision, a marking on one of the pipes catches my eye. “Science Lab Refrigeration Lines.” Of course! It is all so obvious now. Some experiments require mass amounts of chilled water, and 1A has a room dedicated to bringing water down to just above freezing. From that line, another one runs as a return pipe, leading back into the pump. I just need to open this return pipe, and the water being sprayed through the tunnel should be chilled. In theory, rapidly cooling the superheated support beams should just take a few minutes. You’re a genius, Stephen! Time to begin.

First, I give myself a little pep talk. Then, I make my way to the 3 filter valves. It’s time to begin. My right hand goes on the closest calve, my left on the other, leaving the farthest for last. They need to get turned counterclockwise to the off position. Twist! Surprisingly, they both went easily enough. Then my hands lay on the third valve. It twists a little at first, but the pressure builds, making it harder and harder. I’m about to scream and this still won't budge! The 2 dry filters then start to make this horrifying humming noise. There doesn’t seem to be much more time, so I’m forced to make a quick decision. Running over to the silver valve, it needs to be turned off. Both of my hands then lock around it, and twist. Nothing. My eyes drift to find a bar lying on the ground. This is probably used to leverage to move these valves. Putting the bar in between the arms of the wheel style lever, I pull and pull. It works! The pressure in the system relieves, and so I rush over and turn the 3rd valve off. Next step, I have to turn the silver valve all the way on. My hands grab hold of the bar again and it gets pulled in the opposite direction. It takes a total of 10 seconds to turn that valve enough, but eventually it turns completely to the on potion. Now one final step. Tension is high, not only in the pipes, but in my mind as well. I know that if my helmet was off, the creaking and groaning that the water main has begun to produce would be unbearable to the point of insanity. It would be truly traumatizing. I scour the refrigerated line, which is unlike the others as it’s wrapped in a heat insulating cloth. With the large number of dips and turns it makes, without the cloth it would be impossible to follow this pipe. Eventually, I found the return pipe. This is exactly what was necessary. Now searching along this return pipe, there seems to be a little arm lever near its end. To my suspicion, the lever is in the off position. A quick turn will fix it. I place my hands on the lever and try to twist. Pop! From outside you can hear the pipes beginning to burst. I have to hurry to ensure that the pressure from the chilled water pipe will also join in the initial rupture. The lever pulls with ease!

Have I finally done it? Oh, I think I have. Running up the steps, my helmet pops off with glee. I can hear the filters run dry, hot, and make this horribly whine. The pipes sing a dangerous song. They then go pop, pop, pop. Water gushes and gurgles out. While this would be downright painful for a technician to hear, it’s simply music to my ears. Though I have forever damaged and ruined 1A, I can now know that I did my best towards resolving the issues. Now water is coming up to my toes. It’s hot and steamy from cooling off the hot steel support beams and extinguishing fires. Speaking of cooling off the beams, smoke and steam are almost completely fogging up my view now. It’s a miracle that breathing is even possible down here. Though, come to think of it, this whole process has been a miracle. There the group was, running away, and thinking all was lost. To be honest, I think the best part of this was that I didn’t have to die in the process. Oh how relieved I am.

My feet just then begin to tremble as I fall to my knees. Is this an earthquake? “Ow!” I cry out. Feeling around the area of impact, my head, I feel a gash. The spot also begins to feel warm and numb. Is that hole? Then, my hand rears up so that I can gaze upon it. The fingers are red with blood. Looking around, the culprit that caused this injury can easily be found. There’s a bloodied piece of debris from the sealing. This can only mean one thing. A bang and snap resonate throughout my body. I fell to the ground one last time before being pelted by a shower of rock and dust. It’s part of an instinctual urge to scream, but who am I kidding. There’s no one around to heed my call. An unbearable pain comes on all throughout my body, as more debris rains down. It’s now burying me alive, and there is nothing I can do but lie there and accept it. The slightest of movements causes even more of the unbearable pain. Why me? Uh oh. I’m getting more tired by the second. Heavy eyelids grow even heavier. What a shame this is. The louder I cry, the more pain I'm in. Eventually it becomes overwhelming, and I faze out.

Scrape and slosh. Scrape and slosh. I awoke much later, sore and bruised as ever. All around is a massive collapse. I just happened to be in a little pocket that held up the falling debris. The odds of this are immeasurable, and I will forever be thankful that I have escaped such a horrible fate. Scrape and slosh. Those sound like shovels. Faintly, I hear a very familiar voice. “He really did it,” the voice went, “That darned scientist would go as far as to sacrifice himself. Idiot.” It’s none other than Sir Williamson, that mathematician. “Give us a hand,” another voice cries out. I cannot put a name on this one. To me, it is a complete stranger. “I’m not even sure that guy is still alive,” they continue.

That’s my chance to holler and prove that I am still in control of my life. “R-right, cough, here—, cough cough.” It’s hard to believe how weak I’ve become. Even speaking up is a chore now. You could’ve told me to yell directly into an elephant’s ear, and it still wouldn’t have heard me. Perhaps there is a way to force it out. My brain gets an idea, but my instincts immediately say no. “It’s the only way,” I tell myself. Then, I try to lift up my arm, which due to the pain is nearly impossible. Even just trying to lift it up, my arm feels like it was dipped in lava, or hot oil. Perfect. Counting down from five, at zero it gets lifted up as hard as humanly possible. “AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGH!” It worked, and out came a ferocious howl. This did not come at zero cost, though, as the pain it caused lingers on, and a new symptom started. Sore throat. Still, I am enthralled at being alive.

After around an hour of misery, you can finally see the light. One of the shovels pokes it’s blade through the debris, leaving a hole. Some man, probably a maintenance worker, pokes their head in. They start asking me questions. I truly want to answer them, but I cannot listen. Focusing on anything but the burning sensations throughout my body is impossible. That debris which hit me must have been hot from the fire, because around my wound it is starting to blister. Shivering in the fetal position, he must’ve realized how messed up I am.

It wasn’t but fifteen minutes before they got the hole large enough to walk through, and carry me out. A few paramedics with a stretcher arrive. “Sir, can you breathe okay?” one of them asks. In response, I made a failed attempt at speaking and instead tried to give a thumbs up. It hurt. “Well, we are going to pick you up now. Okay?” They ask like it’s my choice. To be honest, if it were, I would most definitely decline. A few more minutes go by and a bigger paramedic arrives, probably 6’4”. I take it this guy is the brawns. He grabs hold of my legs. It’s excruciating, so out of instinct I end up flailing my arms at the man. It was a complete accident, but he must’ve gotten discouraged because they gave me a sedative via injection.

I don’t remember too much after this as I kept dazing in and out of consciousness. What is unforgettable, however, is the smell of the burnt tunnel 1A. It smells of rancid chemicals. I can also remember seeing fallen debris all over, and a few familiar faces looking over me. Clara was in the corner, and definitely not mentally unscathed. That face she made when they wheeled me out embodied pure worry. Oh and you can’t forget David. He actually cried. Thanks I guess? Don was the most involved. He stayed by my side pulling the stretcher to a newfound infirmary. It seems that in the meantime, they set one up in the emergency room. I wanted to ask why we weren’t going to the regular infirmary before realizing that the entire cave is in disarray, and it’s all my fault. After that, the drugs completely knocked me out. 

The next thing I knew, I was relaxing in some soft hospital bed, hooked up to all sorts of machines. It’s sort of freaky. There were IV’s, monitors, and something weird hooked up to my head. Nurses were around 24/7. It seems I’m the only patient here. I mean, it’s not like I could have seen anyone else as they had me curtained off, but I didn’t hear anyone else. Well, that is, aside from the massive chit chat of all 1A’s inhabitants. 

Every 6 hours I had to receive burn cream, required fluids all the time, and they gave me the maximum amount of painkillers. They did this, not because they were supposed to, but because it bothered them how miserable I was. Who would’ve thought unprofessional nurses would actually come in handy? The painkillers were the only things keeping me alive. That, and the visits.

David would stop by very often. Too often actually. He was around me every few hours, AM or PM. It was pretty funny actually. He would come dressed up in a doctor’s outfit, take my vitals (even though they are already being displayed on the monitors, tried bossing people around, and was a big nuisance to everyone. If you can believe it, he even wrote up medical reports! David’s not a bad guy by any means, he’s just a little different than everyone else. Oh and he’s really childish.

Speaking of children, Kyle checked on me a bunch of times. He’s a cute kid, though he never stayed long. I suspect his father was probably nagging him to be back earlier each time he mysteriously left. The kid would come up and ask how I am, tell me about his day, etcetera. He was also pretty darn helpful. After a few weeks, when I could eat and drink, he would get coffee for me. 2 sugars and 2 creams with a large cup. I probably should have stopped asking for these luxury items because food was starting to come up in short supply, but being burnt and injured seems to give you VIP status.

Sometimes though, he came expecting something in return. Kyle didn’t care about money or material possessions. He just wanted help with his homework. Apparently that Sir Williamson is too busy trying to solve his equation. The answer is 424.5343! Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about helping. Afterall, Kyle was a joy to have around. Still, that guy won’t do anything for his kid. This world never ceases to amaze me. Anyways, I’d help the little guy out. A few times, Don was there, and he was a pretty good translator. 

Speaking of Don, he didn’t show often. Granted, he probably thought I didn’t want to be disturbed, and this idea was probably affirmed by my lack of mentioning it. When Don did come, he walked on eggshells the entire time. He wouldn’t bring up anything of the whole ordeal we went through, and on the very rare occasion that he did, Don sounded extremely fake about it. I have to be honest, that was not cool. If I were in his shoes, Don would have someone there to consult with at least every now and then. He wouldn’t have a fake jerk who only shows up less than once a week. It’s not like the medical area is very far from the living quarters. It takes just a minute to walk over. Look, I get it, my mistake was far too great and borderline unforgivable, but that isn’t an excuse to not help out your pal in need, is it?

Honestly, aside from Kyle, Clara was the highlight of my visitors. She’s that kind of person who is really friendly, but completely brutal when it comes to honesty. Clara doesn’t just tell me what she thinks, she explains why. All of my faults and miscalculations are brought up. Again though, this wasn’t happening in a bad way. This is what I wished Don would have done during my stay. I vividly remember the first time she visited, which was the day I woke up in bed. She wouldn’t stop berating me with insults and reasoning for the longest time, and then it’s like a light switch went off in her head. Clara started acting almost like a butler and helped with anything I needed.

She would also keep me informed and up to date on 1A’s current status. I’d get to know gossip and the unimportant things as well, which I only listened to because it was the polite thing to do. When she wasn’t gossiping though, it was pretty horrifying the things you would hear. There I was, lying down in my room, drinking coffee and eating the best foods we have to offer, and now I learn we are almost completely out of food. It was something that was bound to happen, as the fires which ravaged through the cave probably reached the food storage areas as well. Near the beginning of my 5 week stay, this was a looming threat. Sure, there’s not as much food as there was before, but we could still live through it. The longer I stayed, however, the more I heard about these shortages, and it became clear the true scale of this issue. It’ll be just a week after my stay ends before it is all gone. 

How food supply worked in the tunnel was, we had a room dedicated to growing crops in a high-tech and compact way (designed by none other than David). Our protein, in the form of chicken, was prepackaged for the cave before that extinction event occurred. Freeze dried and stored in a massive cryogenics room, we would’ve had enough to last 200 years on chicken alone. Combine this with our farm, it becomes inconceivable that we’d ever run out of food. The designers of 1A were obviously too impressed by their own work as they didn’t factor in the possibility of a fire.

For this food crisis, there are no obvious solutions. When my stay ended, everyone of the staff members seemed up in arms over what needed to be done. Although they did use their private quarters, it seems they forgot to use the noise cancellation system. You could hear screaming all throughout 1A. Kids cried. Parents cried. One more week left until the emergency rations run out. At least they’ve found a way to get water from those pumps I overworked. Even if they only operate at five percent capacity, it’s still enough. 

“Ok, Mr. Stephen Guthrie,” (yes, that’s my last name) says the nurse, “You’re looking like you are in tip top shape. Sort of. Just let those bruises and burns heal over the next few weeks, and don’t do any heavy lifting.” I tell her, “Alright,” and get on my way. Nurse Barbara was definitely one of the better ones. I could never get her to give me any extra painkillers. While being drugged up emotionally, she understood the repercussion my liver would face. Walking to the quarters, you can see many visually depressed people. They know that they only have about a week left.

Then, the worst thing happens. “Hey, that’s the guy that did all of this!” some random man called out. Silence filled the previously loud room, and then the atmosphere changed. Everyone from kids, to adults, to senior citizens stared at me in disbelief. No words were exchanged. They didn’t need to be. I felt totally and completely ashamed, on par with my “crime”. The injuries hurt superficially, but this one moment has truly scarred me forever. I walked through the quarters for what seemed like an eon. Many of those faces will be ingrained into my mind for life. That was truly my lowest moment.

After far too long, it ended and I went on my way.  Eventually, my living space came closer. It’s not like the ones used for “ordinary” people, like the teachers and doctors. Instead, there were privacy partitions, a little nightstand, and the bed was perhaps bigger. While it’s definitely not luxurious, it is at least livable. After unpacking what few things the nurse gave me, I lie on the best and put on my burn creams. There’s 3 different kinds, and none of them seem to help much. Supposedly though, I looked much better after the treatment for a few weeks, so I'll do it anyway. Afterall, I’m not one to argue with science.

Knock knock. Someone is at the door, if you can call it a door that is. It’s more of a bathroom stall gate/ “come in,” I tell my visitor. Out of breath, David walks in. “Look,” he says, “I’m not sure what to do here. The staff is just infuriating me so much right now. Agh! They make me so angry!” Well he seems pretty pepped up. I try to calm David down, “Woah, woah woah. Hold it right there. What are you trying to say?” Mumbling and frantically pacing about, he doesn’t listen. I repeat myself, but louder, and he finally responds. “You know the food issue?” he asks, “Well they want it. All of it.” “Want all of what?” I ask, now beginning to see the issue. “Tomorrow they are going to state that we ran out of food, and take it in secret for themselves!” Questioning this, I said, “Wait, how do you know this?” David quickly shoots back, “I may or may not have cameras in every corner of the tunnel. That’s not important right now!” It’s hard to believe they would do something like this. Sure, the staff weren’t the nicest of folk, but I could never see them starve out over two thousand people. That is sick, and low. “Get Clara and Don,” I commanded David, “We are going to do something about this.”

We all get gathered together in my room, and it seems everyone is already informed of the situation. It’s time to draw up a plan. After a few hours of deliberation, the group all agrees on what is the correct course of action. Well, everyone except for David, because our plan is to start a little protest. I coax him into helping even though he despises confrontation, and we wait for the morning announcements for the next day.

A few minutes beforehand, everyone came well dressed and ready. The quarters room is shaped like a massive square, so we head to the center of that hoping most of the two thousand will hear us. This is going to be a little rough for everyone. I just hope they find a way to keep children out of this. We definitely don’t want any child casualties. The hardest part of this is going to be convincing the masses that I am on their side. Afterall, they know who I am and what I’ve caused. There is a reason, though, that we arrived before the announcements.

“Ahem.” My voice is still a little hoarse and it’s pretty painful to yell like this, however, this is what must be done. “Ahem,” I repeat. People are now beginning to crowd around us, and it’s a little terrifying. “Yeah, what?” People in the crowd begin calling out different phrases in annoyance. A few insults flowed around as well. It’s definitely not as bad as the last time I caught everyone’s attention but still. I’m shaking. Clara then looks at me, “Well, there’s no better time than the present. Say something, will you?”

“Ahem. Look, you all know who I am. My name is Stephen Guthrie. To start us off, yes, I am the one who put us in this predicament. For that, I am truly sorry. None of us expect forgiveness, but—.” Don nudges my arm. He tells me to stop apologizing and to stop blaming everyone in the group. “Now is not the time,” he states. Then, I continued, “Yes. Um, I have something important to say. As you all know, food sores are getting lower and lower. In a minute or two, we are going to get a message from the staff saying our supplies have run out. This is a lie! They are lying to us! These people plan to hoard all of the food for themselves, and let all of you suffer. If you don’t believe me, wait for the announcement. It will come. We need to stand up for ourselves. When it is announced, we must go to their door and show them what we think. Who is with me?”

My words acted like a shockwave throughout the crows. Murmuring can be heard as they drone on. This happens for a minute, when not to my surprise, the announcement begins.
The speaker clicks, and they begin talking. “Greetings fellow inhabitants. Today, we are truly sorry to be the bearers of bad news, however it must be done. Last night, we officially ran out of emergency rations.” Upon hearing that last sentence, the crowd perks up and looks at me. They are beginning to see the truth as well. The speaker continues emitting this noise, “That means we have no current method to supply food. Again, we are extremely sorry. We, the staff, wish you all the best of luck.”

Now, Don is the most angry I’ve ever seen him. I mean, everyone was angry, but Don’s face glows red, and even more steam rushes out than when he tried to open that door to the Water Control and Filtration room. He exclaims, “They are going to let everyone here die, and they best they can give everyone is ‘good luck!’” Don continues, “I despise those people. Let’s go.” The group follows him, including David, who is cowering right now. We walked toward their staff meeting room, and it worked! People are following us. It sounds like a stampede of disorganized soldiers marching into battle. They are all unruly and ready to attack. As we get closer, it seems the staff begin to get worried.

  “Good morning fellow inhabitants,” the speaker starts back up, “We can’t help but wonder what you all are doing? I am sure it isn’t anything confrontational, is it? Please disperse back to your quarters. You don’t want to use up all of your energy.” The announcer accidentally lets out a chuckle, which doesn’t help his cause. Not a single person turns around. This crowd is like a massive single body with one objective. Survive. The speaker continues buzzing in with the announcer starting to get angry. This goes on until we finally reach the door. Here, people start pounding on things, and screaming slurs meant for the staff. The speaker turns back on, “What are you doing? Stop it at once! We beg of you.” Now the cave has started to shake. It’s weakened pathways can be heard giving way. David then turns to us and shouts, “They are right. We need to stop, quick!” “What?” the crowd screams back at once. David explains, “All of this movement and noise is going to cause another collapse! It’s just like how an avalanche can be caused.”

Uh oh. A collapse is definitely not something we need right now. The announcers' worry is starting to make sense now. They aren’t scared of us, they are scared that the food storage room could collapse. If that happens, there is nothing more we would be able to do. The crowd ignores David’s warning and starts back up. “We want our food!” they begin to chant in unison. With each chant, the walls shake a bit. “Stop!” I scream out, “Quick! He is right. The tunnel could collapse!” For a few seconds, silence wipes over the crowd. Before long, however, screams and shrieks were let out. The people became scared as they listened to the system straining. Those screams rumble the cave, and the more it rumbles, the more they scream. In the distance, you can hear collapses from deeper parts of 1A. It’s almost like being on a beach when a tsunami is coming. The waves crash into the sand, making this overwhelming noise, and everyone is screaming at a massive incoming wave. In this case, though, the tsunami is preventable. That one staff member on the speaker keeps trying to communicate, but it’s useless. After not too long, a loud collapse was heard, which caused even more screaming, which caused even more collapses. It took a few rounds of screaming before they finally understood. Everyone fell quiet, with one scream here and there, but mostly just whispers. Then on comes the speaker. “You imbeciles.” That’s all that was said. For at least five minutes, everyone just stood there, quietly, wondering what damage was caused.

A few minutes later, a new announcement came. This time, however, it’s someone else. “Well, you did it. Congratulations.” We recognize that voice. It’s from the lead staff member. Our crowd gets a little rowdy during her speech. “One of your cave-ins has destroyed all remaining food supplies. I can’t help but wonder how you figured it out, however, I guess that doesn’t matter anymore. We’re now sealed into our chamber. You have doomed us all, Steve, and Don, and David, and Clara. Yes I know it was your bunch.” It’s nice to get credit for something good every once in a while. Thanks! “We were going to be the sole survivors of this,” the leader continues, “Oh and that machine didn’t blow up on it’s own, you know.” Just then, all of us began to think the same thing. How is that possible? Did they really try to sabotage my invention? Then, the woman continues, “Too bad that electric charge didn’t completely destroy it. Who knows. The thing might have worked. I would’ve sent a higher charge, but that was the most we could do without it being tracked by the computer.” We, in the group, stare at each other in disbelief. So they are the reason for this mayhem. These staff would rather cause death and suffering than allow us to leave. None of us ever cared for the staff that much, but now to know the truth of their evil plan, it sickens us all. “Do what you must now. I don’t care. You are all trapped as much as we are, haha!” She begins a fit of maniacal laughter. What they said, though, is not the case. If my machine worked it’s magic before the catastrophic explosion, we may have a shot.

I now know what must be done. Turning to Don, I tell him, “It’s time. Let’s leave the cave.” Don, of course, didn’t understand how that was possible, and he heavily objected to my idea. “We’re inside heere because the outside is just a massive unlivable wasteland. Leaving just isn’t an option,” he states. I explain to him the true nature of our situation, and how there is still a chance. After a few minutes of debating, I did get everyone to agree. Then turning to the crowd, I announce, “Everyone, please trust me when I say this. Get to the entrance door immediately.” 

The massive army of people turn around and start for the entrance, and we try to get up ahead of them. It’s a slightly long walk, and there is the possibility of collapse, completely preventing the escape. Before every corner, our anxiety builds up that there may be a blockage. Luckily though, the further we went, and the less corners we had to go through, the less we were concerned of a collapse. Eventually, we made it to the massive doors. Seldom does anyone ever come to this place. In fact, the only time I’ve seen it is when we were rushed inside before the asteroid impact. That was twenty one years ago. I was only seventeen. People “ooh and ah” upon the site of these magnificent blast doors. They reach up about forty feet, and the assembly is one-hundred-thirty feet across, David tells us. He goes on about more technical details, like thickness, and how there are actually two sets, but we tell him to stop so that he can open them up. On the left side of the doors is a little control room with a single control console. After not too long, an alarm goes off and the doors slowly begin to open. It’s a process that takes about twenty minutes. The masses waited slowly for it. These doors were supposed to open up to a separate chamber with two smaller doors on the left and right side. The idea of this was to limit the explosive power reaching the main blast door. 

While waiting for it to finish opening, we all had a quick chat, and tried our best at small talk. It didn’t work of course, too much was going on at the time, but it was a good moment between the group regardless. After twenty minutes, the main blast doors opened, and a third small door behind those also opened. We went up to the smaller door, which lifted up in about ten seconds. What we saw was horrifying. Where the two smaller doors were supposed to go, there was nothing but 2 large holes. Looking to either side, you could see them buried inside the wall. The power needed to cause something like that is unimaginable. Then, a feeling I had not felt for so long came. The beautiful warmth of the sun tingled against my skin. My hair stood up because it was so long, but relaxed eventually. Each of us ended up falling to our knees in tears. A few people in the crowd then started to rush out from the doors, but still being a little cautious. David’s eyes then opened up, and he panicked. Quickly, he pulled out a little machine from his pocket and turned it on. “You’re not going to believe this”, he says, “The level of radiation exposure is extremely low. The outside should be relatively safe!” Laughing loudly, David runs out of the room through one of those doorway holes. Everyone in the crowd, including the rest of our group, does the exact same thing.

Passing through that archway, the warm light is blinding. It takes a while for our eyes to adjust, but when they do, the view is jaw dropping. 1A is situated about halfway up a fairly tall mountain, so the viewing distance is immense. Clara nudges at my shoulder and says, “Hey ya, look. Like.” Instead of a desolate wasteland, green hills and trees surround the area, while all traces of civilization (an entire town used to be there) are still wiped out. It’s not exactly what I had hoped for, but we can rebuild. Clara then comes up to me and asks, “So I take it the machine worked?” Responding, I tell her the truth. “No, it didn’t. If it did, then the town would still be there.” Immediately, she got confused. “How is that possible? Machines don’t magically bring things like that back.” “Correct. A time machine doesn’t bring people or towns back to life. This time machine, however, did not turn back time. It just gave us enough hope to head outside. I guess in twenty one years, everything had cleared up. My time machine was merely an exploding ‘Hope Machine.’”

After not too long, a little town by the name of 2A Endurance sprung up. It did indeed flourish. Heck, we even have our own government and currency. There was a housing district, market, etcetera. It was all really simple things, but we had just begun. Everything that was needed could now be supplied, and the masses were finally happy. In fact, they were so happy, I was voted in as town leader. I, of course, immediately resigned and gave that position to someone more qualified, Clara, but it was an honor nevertheless. Clara still came to me for guidance on certain things, but I’m just happy that I didn’t have to make any major decisions. Eventually, I even met a very smart woman, and we even got married. Things were really looking up.

It’s four A.M. on a Tuesday, eight years since we evacuated from the tunnel. A knock comes at the door, and I leave bed. Who could be knocking this early? I open the door, and Don is standing there! Without warning, he grabs me by the shirt and pulls me out. “Ah! What’s wrong with you?” I scream. He holds up his finger to his lips, and begins to whisper. “It’s an emergency,” he says. Following Don out of my little wooden apartment complex, we walked down the street into the City Hall of Endurance. Clara is there, pacing back and forth. She catches a glimpse of me, and says to follow her immediately. Fine, I oblige. Eventually, I ended up outside a small door. “Go inside,” she says, “Remember when you told me that the time machine didn’t work?

She opens the door and pushes me in. After a few seconds, the lights turn on. There appears to be a person standing in the corner. However, he doesn’t seem normal. The man’s legs are abnormally short for his large build yet short body, and his hair hands why down like it’s never been cut. He even reeks like a boar. I view his clothes, and they also seem different. They are made of animal skin even though we produce polyester clothing. “Hello?” I said to the strange guy. The man turns his head around and begins to grunt at me. As I look closer, it’s the oddest thing. He has this odd eyebrow ridge. “Wait a minute, are you a—.” “Grunt,” it cuts in. I just came to a shocking realization. I am standing in a room with a prehistoric neanderthal. “Huh. So my time machine worked a little too well then.” This is definitely a problem.

The end.