Bunker Society

A cacophony of alarms pierces my brain and startle me awake. The vibration beneath the skin in my leaves my wrist tingling. Bright white lights flash on, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut tighter. The alarms stop in unison. I can still feel the residual vibration from the device in my ears.

People in the dormitory already had begun to stir. Bare feet pad against the floor. Beds are made. Showers turn on. Toilets flush. Yet, I refuse to move. I lay there with my eyes still tightly closed, wondering why I couldn’t have just passed away peacefully in my sleep.

Begrudgingly, I finally manage to sit up and open my eyes. It stings a bit. The dormitory is filled with shuffling people changing into their uniforms and getting ready for the day’s work. I am the only person left in bed. Nobody pays any mind to me. They move like zombies through the large room.

Bright yellow pills sit on my nightstand with a full glass of water beside them. They had not been there when I went to sleep, nor did I prepare them myself. I don’t question it and take the pills without another thought. It is the same as usual.

Every day is the same here. I sit or lay in bed and wait for everybody to begin and finish their routine. They move without desire. Eventually, l manage to do the same. Their fear drives them to do the best they can. The depression and the pills make me not care.

I eventually make my way to the commons area, which is on the same floor as the dormitories. There is a large wall that is lined with high graphics vending machines. We get all our food from these. I select an apple and a granola bar. The total is three credits. I hesitate. Three credits. Three minutes. I glance at the timer on the inside of my wrist. Blue lights show 52560:0983:40, with the last number diminishing by one digit every second.

52,560hrs, 0983mins, and 40seconds. The seconds place continued to tick down and down. Despite not wanting to, I quickly scan my arm to checkout. “Have a wonderful day,” the machine calls after me. Making my way to the elevators, I take one last glance at my wrist. 52560:0979:20. My insides churn and my arm drops quickly to my side. I’m not as hungry anymore, but there’s no way I’m wasting anything.

Our lives are measured by time here. I suppose, all lives have always been measured by time. When our community was built, they took that concept literally. When people are born, we are implanted with a monitoring device. With this monitoring device we are preprogramed with seven years. More specifically 61362 hours. Think of it as a digital device that displays on our wrist and is intertwined with our nervous system.

From birth, we can earn time based on what we can bring to the community. Children are expected to earn time based on accolades, grades, and ability. If they do not excel in school and cannot earn enough points to survive, they immediately start working in the compound. Most children who are not deemed intelligent enough usually begin work in our facilities teams. Electrical, mechanical, or janitorial. These are all very important tasks here. Every role here is important. Some roles just earn more time than others.

If children show an affinity for something, they are placed in specialty classes. While there aren’t many career options here, they at least make us believe we have at some choice in our future. That is how I ended up in the food research team. I always wanted to find more effective and efficient ways to grow food in our underground society.

My job is regarded as one of the most important, next to our community officials. Because of this, I gain time quicker than most. That does not make me any happier. No matter how hard I try and how good I am at my job, people still die every day due to loss of time. What is the point in providing more food if it does not help stop death?

Time is our currency. We pay for food, water, amenities with time. We are grouped together in dorms. There are nicer dorms with fewer people or larger dorms with mass amounts of people. We can choose where we live depending on how much time we are willing to give each month. For a lot of members, they never gain time. Their monthly costs, even if just necessities are more than what they make in a given month.

If our time ever runs out, an electrical pulse gets sent to our brain. We usually die instantly. Sometimes, there is a malfunction. When this happens, it is a painful and slow death. We can still die from natural causes. Although, it does not happen nearly as frequent. We are not permitted to exist in the community without contributing to its function. Even if we are already on our deathbed or even in the process of giving birth, our time can be taken prematurely. We are all equal here. At least, it was the false promise that our predecessors had been promised.

I make my way to the top floor. Floor One. There are arrows on the wall, guiding everybody to the proper department. Gardens, food development, compost, and research. It is muscle memory for me to make it to the research labs. I find myself scanning my wrist for access without even having to actively think about it. It clocks me in.

My work is important, or so they say. I begin my research where I left off the day before. A crossbreed of a carrot and celery that doesn’t need much light. There has yet to be a seed that is able to germinate. It happens a lot with human intervention.

A large ringing and sharp crackling over the intercom bring me out of focus. A loud nasally voice blares, “There is a water leak in the gardens. Section Three. Need all supervisors on Floor One and plumbing team immediately.”

I sigh. Nothing worse than having to deal with another department. It also wasn’t what I was expecting out of my day today. I lock my tablet, scan out of the research labs, and begin my journey into the gardens. I hold my wrist against the scanner and the doors slide open.

My nose is overwhelmed with smells. Moist soil. Living plants. Fungus. It is all instantly refreshing. All the fungus and plants are genetically engineered, but they are as close to natural as it comes here. There are rows and rows of plants, all in different states of growth. The grow lights have a strange yellow hue, so the plants do not appear as vibrant as they normally would be. They are beautiful none-the-less. Misters spray water across the plants at different intervals. There are not too many people employed in the gardens. Everybody who is requires a high security clearance.

The gardens take up most of the first floor. At least half of the floor is dedicated to our food growth. Even so, it doesn’t take me long to find the leak. It is along the back wall by one of our massive air vents. Water is pouring out of one of the pipes and forming a large buildup of water on the concrete floor. I am the first to arrive. Whoever called the spill must still be in the administration booth and maintenance as not yet arrived.

I begin to examine the area. Water must have been leaking for a while. The screws on the air vent are rusted and one has fallen out. There is a valve just out of reach that I assume will block the water from entering the broken pipe.

My first reaction is to pull the grate on the air vent. It immediately comes out. My intention was to hoist myself up to reach the valve, but once I peer into the open vent, I change my mind. The body size opening appears to open into something much bigger a few yards away.

I look around me. Nobody else has arrived yet. The other workers on the floor are still observing their own area. As usual, nobody is paying attention to anybody but themselves and their own tasks. Quickly, I climb into the vent and pull the grate against the wall, hoping it doesn’t look too obvious.

There are only about twenty yards of having to crawl through before the vent opens into a much larger space. It is a tunnel large enough for me to stand in. It is running parallel to the vent and beyond the gardens to left. The area is a lot older than the rest of the compound. Concrete walls are crumbling apart. Nobody must have been back here for ages.

I hop out of the vent and into the tunnel. My ankle twists as I land. Adrenaline is coursing through my body, so I do not notice any pain. I look to my left and then my right. Everything is dark. There is something inside me that tells me to turn left. Going beyond the edge of the gardens seems most appealing.

As fast as I can, I make my way through the tunnel. The only light guiding me is the timer on my wrist. The subtle blue light reflects off the concrete brick walls and only allows me to see a few feet ahead of me at any moment. I begin my journey left.

A sinking feeling fills my insides. If I were to be found wandering without express permission or instruction, I could be fined a lot of time. There is just something so energizing about being in this situation. It is the most compelled I have felt to do something in probably my entire life. No amount of research would ever make me feel this way.

Eventually, the tunnel ends and I am greeted with a rusted metal ladder. I look above me and see nothing but blackness. I know I can turn around. There are a thousand excuses running in my head about what to say to the other administrators if I were to turn around and make it back to the gardens at this moment.

Making it this far and turning back now, seems like the least desirable option. So, I decide to climb.

I climb and I climb. It feels like I am going nowhere and everywhere all at once. The scenery never changes. A blue light emanating from my wrist, and my hands and feet moving one above the other on the ladder. My legs and arms are aching. Our mandatory daily exercise routing did not prepare me for this sort of exertion.

As I get close enough to the top, I see a circular metal door. There is a wheel at the center. My mind is racing. There should be nothing above the first floor. At least, nothing that I am aware of. All the entrances to the outside world were supposed to be heavily guarded. Most of them sealed shut permanently.

The outside world is supposed to be hazardous. From all our history lessons, we know that there is nothing more dangerous than the place above. Even getting buried alive in our manmade hole is supposed to be a better ending to our fate than reaching the outside world.

If I open the door, I could be subjecting everybody to a fate worse than death. Although, there is one thing I know about this community. We are all selfish creatures. So, I decide to open it.

I press my back against part of the concrete brick wall of the shaft and shift my weight into it. I take a deep breath. It takes me a few minutes to gain enough courage to bring my hands up to the hatch wheel. Once I feel brave enough, I put as much strength into turning the wheel as possible. At first, it doesn’t budge. It burns my hand trying. Finally, I feel it give.

It feels like I am spinning the hand wheel for hours. Sweat is pouring from my forehead into my eyes. Eventually, there is a loud pop and the sound of rushing air escaping upward. The brightest light I had ever seen fills the space around me. Sirens wail next to my head and down below within the compound.

I pull myself up and out of the hole. My eyes take a second to adjust. The light is just too much for me. I’m in a small building composed entirely of wood and formed into an almost perfect box shape. I have never seen wood my entire life before now. Trees are too large to grow within the bunker. There is one singular window and beyond it, brings me to awe in awe.

I barely have time to admire the natural light and green plants before there is a sharp sting at my neck. Black spots begin to fill my vision. A few moments later, everything fades to complete darkness.