By Evelyn Johnson
The metal hallways flash red as my team and I dash toward the control room. Security alerts reverberate through the corridors, muffling the sounds of our footsteps.
“Attention,” a voice blares. “Intruders detected in Hallway B3. Deploying security measures. Attention. Intruders detected in hallway B3…”
I grin. “They’re onto us, boys.”
“Good,” Eric grunts. “The more people see us, the better.”
The three of us dart around a corner. There, at the end of the red-tinted hall, sits the room we came for. The core of this sterilized prison.
The Dome Control Center.
A smile twitches at the corner of my mouth. “Time to bring this farce of a life-support system to its knees.”
I dodge to the side, allowing Travis a clear shot at the door’s lock mechanism. The sound of his blast ricochets through the corridor as the door spasms open. I shove my way inside.
The observation window overlooks a sprawling metropolis. Above us, a spherical dome contains the entirety of our existence, encapsulating the city and sealing us off from the outside world. The panel that controls this gilded cage is positioned in front of the window. Several startled operators look up from their tasks.
“Back away from the control board, all of you!” I shout.
Travis cocks his weapon for emphasis, and the operators scramble to the far wall.
One of them reaches for a blinking wall panel and taps a few buttons until I take a threatening step closer. “The cameras are activated.” Fear cracks his voice. “We’ll be able to identify you from the footage when this is all over.”
“Wonderful.” I flash a genuine grin. “I always wanted to be on the news.”
Confusion lances across the man’s face.
I turn away from him, surveying the spread of buttons and dials that, until now, have controlled my life.
“Don’t touch anything,” a female technician whispers. “You’ll ruin something.”
“Exactly my plan. My, but you’re an encouraging bunch.” I jerk a thumb at the board. “Eric, find the maintenance-shaft override.” I swivel around to face the hostage group—and hopefully their silly security cameras. “I’ve got a speech to make.”
Eric scuttles forward, scanner in hand.
One of the techs shifts. “What are you doing? Why are you here?”
“Thank you for asking. I was about to explain anyway, but I love a good invitation.” I spread my arms wide in what I hope is a dramatic gesture. “This polished dome is the only home I’ve ever known. I grew up looking at a metal sky, with daylight cycles regulated by electric lights and fresh air pumped into my lungs through heavily sterilized regulators. And you know what?” I lean forward. “I hate it.”
A few of the operators flinch.
I smile and continue. “We always hear stories of how outside the dome is unsafe. How out there, we won’t be able to breathe. But what is it that makes the outside world toxic? What happened to ruin our ancestors’ lives… and ours?”
The device in Eric’s hand beeps, and he nods at me. Time to wrap this up and get to business.
“The answer,” I say, stepping toward Eric, “is nothing. Nothing, except for you. You put together this dome so you could better control us.” I turn to the control panel. “Today, the charade ends. Today we show the world that you are liars, and that the outside world is ready and waiting for us to return.”
“Setting manual hatch override to Shaft IN-466,” Eric says.
A light-haired technician wrinkles his forehead. “The maintenance shaft? That was sealed off years ago.”
“Because it connects to the outside,” I say. “Isn’t that right? And conveniently, Shaft IN-466 happens to be in the exact center of this dome…”
The dome operator’s eyes widen in horror. “No!” he shrieks. Travis calls for silence, but he doesn’t listen. “You can’t open it! You’ll kill us all!”
I reach for the button Eric indicates. “You’re lying. You always have been.”
Eric flips a few switches. A prompt appears on the nearest viewscreen, but I ignore it, bringing my fist down on the manual override button—
“We’re three miles under the Pacific Ocean!”
I freeze, fingers still smashed against the plastic casing. What?
A new alarm blares, blue this time, as horrendous creaking fills the air. A vise grips my heart as the hatch of Shaft IN-466 unseals, locking mechanisms shifting sideways as the door pulls back.
Water sprays through the cracks.
I watch in mesmerized horror as the hatch snaps off under the force of the angry seawater. The protective dome deforms and splits under the sudden pressure change, twisting and jerking with deafening metallic shrieks. The Pacific Ocean rushes over the metropolis below—my home, however much I hate it—and careens toward us.
Someone’s pulling on my arm, but my legs won’t move.
I did this.
All the times they told us the world outside the domes was deadly, the times they said we wouldn’t be able to breathe. Every message they put out about staying away from the doors…
They were telling the truth.
Waves smash into the observation window, shattering glass and slamming me off my feet. Amid the pain and pressure and chaos, one thought swirls through my mind.
What have I done?
Water churns around me. I need air, but an ocean lies between me and the surface. I hold my breath for as long as I can.
Slowly, everything goes black.
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Oh I like the ending!! Great job Evelyn.
What a twist…the rebellious protagonist turns out to be wrong? Great story! :)
Another excellent piece, keep them coming!
I wasn’t expecting that plot twist. Epic! You have an amazing imagination!
Loving these short stories from you!
The ending!!! Genius!
Should have called Dave Ramsey. He’s at expert at helping people who are underwater.
Now my question is, why didn’t they know they were underwater? Why would that be a secret? 😁