Low Battery

By M. A. E. 

I’m stuck between two dimensions and surrounded by darkness. I press my palm against the transparent panel of my floating prison. The gentle warmth emanating from the force field provides a sense of physical reality in this space. The walls—if you can call them that—are made of energy but firm to the touch, and the cube’s perimeter gives off a tangerine glow like a neon sign.

Eighteen months ago, I sat at a conference table with other Hero Affiliation members and listened to a man in a lab coat drone about this new contraption. Who knew I’d one day be locked away inside his “miracle of science.”

“Created to humanely neutralize dangerous criminals,” the presenter explained, “each Interdimensional Suspension Chamber, or ISC, is an impermeable barrier protected from escape, unsanctioned entry, and the effects of natural laws.”

“What about basic needs? Food and water? Oxygen?” my teammate Amber interjected.

“Not required. The prisoner will be fully conscious but essentially on life-support. The sustaining qualities of the energy field are remarkable.”

Quantum physics have always been over my head, but I understand energy. How it keeps our hearts beating and synapses firing. The way it crackles in the sky. When I had my powers, I could launch fireworks from my fingertips and wield lightning like a sword. The scientist’s assessment of the ISC’s “sustaining qualities” was accurate. I don’t require sustenance or sleep.

I pull my hand away from the barrier and roll up the left sleeve of my orange jumpsuit. I keep the digital watch on my wrist covered to restrain myself from staring at it constantly.

In the last few minutes before I entered this prison, Amber knocked a guard flat while the scientists in the room, aside from the one with a vise-grip on my arm, cowered away from the determined superwoman.

“Give me a year. I’ll find who did this and exonerate you, Aiden.” She tossed me the watch.

The scientist shoved me through the swirling portal before I could say anything. Before I could thank her for always having my back.

It’s been three hundred and ninety days. My perspective is shifting. Daydreams have changed from visions of rescue—Amber, with her wildly colored hair and equally bright smile, suddenly appearing through the reopened portal—to images of crackling electricity as the walls give way when I orchestrate my freedom.

Twenty-five days ago, I began formulating an escape plan in earnest. Of course, I always toyed with ideas about how to break out of here. But returning before I’m exonerated is almost as risky as the escape itself. It could result in my execution if the Council considers me an uncontainable threat.

Fear haunts me. Did Amber fail? Did whoever framed me get to her too?

I grit my teeth and finally dismantle the watch. The battery seems too small for the task at hand. Superpowers are neutralized here—to preserve my lifeforce, the electric field of the ISC connects to my body’s energy and diffuses the excess.

The plan is simple… and dangerous. In theory, the battery’s shell should protect it long enough to prevent its energy from being absorbed immediately, and hopefully dismantle the barrier when it explodes under the pressure.

If this works, will it reopen the portal, or will I zap out of existence too?

Before I had a possible way to escape, waiting felt brave. A test of endurance. Now it seems like cowardice.

I hold the battery inches from a panel. Tangerine light outlines my hand and reflects off the metal circle. A chill races down my spine. I’m about to set off a bomb in interdimensional space with unknown consequences.

And for what? To get out of a floating box. To end this exile that’s drowning me in loneliness.

Is this worth the risk? Do I really believe she’s failed me?

I put the battery back in the watch. I don’t have forever—the power will run down eventually. But I can wait a little longer.

The battery is dead.

I’ve lost track of time. It doesn’t matter now.

The orange glow grows as bright as a sunset as one of the energy field’s panels transforms into an open portal. Nothing’s visible until Amber steps forward from the other side. She starts apologizing the instant she’s through.

“I’m sorry, Aiden. I tried so hard to get to you sooner. Vanquish framed you. He went rogue and targeted the Affiliation’s superheroes one by one until we were all imprisoned or in hiding. I managed to put a new team together and we took him down.”

I grab her and hug her tightly. She’s late, but she’s here.

“Ready to go home?”

“You bet I am.”

Together we stride into a familiar room abuzz with activity. The Affiliation Lab isn’t exactly “home,” but it’s the closest I’ve been in a while. At least it’s in this dimension. Scientists are scanning monitors and releasing other prisoners through dozens of portals. My eyes water and I blink against the harsh fluorescent lights until someone hands me a pair of sunglasses atop a pile of folded clothes—my Hero Affiliate uniform. Amber shrugs apologetically as she’s pulled away by the newest arrival, who’s asking a million questions about Vanquish’s defeat.

I can’t wait to change out of this jumpsuit, but as I look down at the watch, I can’t imagine ever taking off the timepiece.

A man in a lab coat approaches. “Can I help you, sir?”

I look up from the stopped watch. “Just out of curiosity, what would happen if someone, um, used a watch battery to blow a hole in an ISC?”

The scientist blinks hard. “Destabilizing the energy barrier through a detonated device would create a chain reaction of explosions and damage the subatomic fabric of physical reality itself.”

“Oh.”

I look across the room at Amber. She catches my eye and smiles.

I’m never telling her I almost blew up the universe.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

M. A. E. is passionate about all things creative and can usually be found painting, baking, reading, writing, or discussing sci-fi film plots. She believes that imagination and creativity are gifts from God for His glory and our joy and encouragement.

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