Chapter 22
My amp led me deeper into the data center and down a flight of stairs—Byte couldn’t mask the elevator’s use from the front desk—to an even colder level that seemed to be comprised of fewer but much wider hallways.
The corridors here were easily five times as wide as the hallways upstairs, and every door seemed to be reinforced steel with no windows.
The lights seemed to be always on, though dimly, and I hadn’t seen a single drone, let alone camera, so far.
There was a door every hundred feet or so, which meant the rooms inside must’ve been massive.
Every door was labeled with numbers and letters, but nothing that made sense to me.
These rooms are the physical data stores.
Due to how they structure their security, we could only access the data stores in this building from the system room we used.
We would have to go to every data center to access its specific data stores…
or we could access everything from the corporation’s planetary headquarters in Softbiotics Tower.
“That’s not in the cards right now.”
Certainly not. The lab will be the second door on your right up ahead. You may walk faster on this level. The front desk has access to only the interiors of the data stores on this level. Evidently, the lab teams do not like their images captured on camera.
I jogged, and my breath puffed clouds in the cold air. I stopped when we came to a door that had the same sort of coded name on it. And like with every other door on this level, there was a security pad on the wall. “All right, tell me you know how to get inside.”
I am working on it. This lab has recently been downgraded to a lower security level. Otherwise, I do not believe I would have had robust enough processes to hack the entry code. A complication to figure out when it comes to retrieving your friend.
As Byte worked, I got anxious. “Work faster.”
Do you think that’s helping?
The pad flashed green, and the door clicked and opened with a nearly silent whoosh. As I stepped inside, the lights came on. I looked up. “Uh-oh.”
It’s all right. I don’t detect any cameras or drones in this room.
I relaxed somewhat. The door closed behind me, sealing me in a room that somehow felt even colder than that near-frigid hallway.
The space was silent except for the nearly imperceptible hum of computer fans.
I didn’t know what to expect from a lab, but this definitely wasn’t it.
This space resembled a warehouse more than a medical facility since most of it seemed to be two long rows of refrigerated storage units.
There was an open space where three gurneys stood, all covered in white, set up in a star-like manner where the head—or the foot—of each gurney was near the other two. Trays and computers surrounded them.
There was nobody in here, though Byte had told me that already. Whatever they were doing here, they weren’t doing it anymore. “I think their records are out of date. There’s no one here,” I said, though even as I said it, I noticed the rows of coolers.
It’s possible. The records were last updated eight days ago.
Except I had a sinking feeling in my gut that every name on that roster was still here.
I approached the first cooler with trepidation.
My feet didn’t want to go that way, so my gait was more of a trudge.
The coolers were all white with no windows.
On the door of each cooler was a stat sheet. I read the first one.
Subject 10092
DOA 44/03/14
DOD 44/04/9
Record 14B4492
The acronyms were dates. I guessed that the first one was date of arrival , but it could’ve been something else.
The second was pretty clear: date of death .
The bastards didn’t even list a name—they just assigned a random number.
I didn’t want to open the cooler, but I had to know. I reached for the handle.
I don’t recommend you do that, Cal. You might find the contents distressing.
“I can handle it,” I defended, opened the door, and then nearly threw up.
Inside was a man. Or, it was partially a man.
Half his head had been cut away and the skull replaced with a translucent cap with hundreds of wires poking out.
His right arm, leg, and entire right side had been stripped bare, and wires protruded from muscle and bone, all covered in what looked like a clear plastic wrap.
Eyes stared dully at me.
“What were they doing here?”
The data says the tests pertained to physical enhancement.
Based on what I see, I deduce the tests are focused on manipulating muscle.
They likely experimented on the right half and used the left half of the test subject as a control group of sorts.
I could ascertain that assumption if we access a computer.
I saw an input device near the surgical unit.
I slowly closed the door. Was something like this being done to Nolan this very minute? March 14 was just a little over a month ago. If Nolan was facing the same sort of shelf life, I had less than a week to get to him before they got to him.
In a sudden burst, I checked the rest of the sheets. There were twenty-two in all, and all had a DOD date.
“Is this what they’re doing in all the labs?” I asked.
I don’t know the answer to that question. Other than locations and rosters, lab data isn’t available. It’s not backed up in the corporate data centers.
“Of course not. That’s because they don’t want anyone to see what they’re doing.” I cursed and strode over to a computer screen. I tapped a key, but the screen was dead. Byte had me try a few commands, but the system had been shut down and disabled.
“At least we got what we came for,” I said. “Now we’ve got to get to Nolan before they do the same thing to him.”
I believe it’s far more likely they’re conducting different tests in different labs. The lab holding your friend is identified as performing augmentation tests, whereas this lab was focused on enhancement experiments.
The nausea caught me off guard, and I barely made it to the trash can by the nearest gurney before I vomited. Once my stomach was empty, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
Cal, are you okay?
I tried to swallow down the nasty taste in my mouth. Seeing the mutilated corpse was one thing, but imagining Nolan undergoing some sort of augmentation experiment was too much. I couldn’t even bear to think what they could be doing to him. “I’m fine,” I said finally.
Your reaction is understandable, given the work done in this lab doesn’t align with typical customs in regard to ethics, morals, and compassion.
“Damn straight,” I muttered, and with that, I was happy to leave that lab behind.
As it turned out, the fastest way out of the building and to the AV was the way we’d come. I’d made it back upstairs and through several winding hallways before Byte blurted, Be advised: there are two guards conducting a walk-through.
I stumbled and then checked the time on my armlet. “They’re early.”
Not exactly.
“What do you mean by ‘not exactly?’”
I made an estimated assumption based on when they most often make their walk-through, but they are known to digress from their routine from time to time. They must be exceptionally bored today.
“So, you guessed wrong,” I muttered. “Do I need to head back to the lower level?”
I don’t recommend that. Their walk-through includes covering every hallway in the center, and there are no exits in the basement as it’s the most secure level.
“Super,” I said dryly and speed-walked down the hallway—it was the kind of walk that looks silly, but it was the fastest I could go without my amp bitching.
I’d made it down a second hallway when Byte announced, They’re one corridor away from our current position.
You need to hide, Cal. The engineering station is up ahead.
I glanced around. I was in the same stupid hallway as before when Whistler had come through.
The engineer’s wiring station was ahead and to my left.
Instead, I hustled to the bathroom and closed the door that read TOILET carefully behind me.
The unisex bathroom had two stalls with doors, two urinals, and three sinks.
I looked up for an escape route, but the ceiling was smooth—there were no panels to climb up into like they always had in the movies.
With no other options, I rushed into a stall and latched the door.
It allowed just enough room to turn around.
I climbed onto the toilet, my feet on the seat, and crouched.
Then I considered the latched door. I scrambled off the toilet and shimmied under the partition to the next stall.
That would’ve been disgusting to attempt in any public bathroom in Dreswick, but this bathroom was so clean it practically glistened.
I latched the door in this stall, too, before climbing onto the toilet and crouching.
If the guards checked the bathroom, they’d notice one locked stall.
They’d also notice two locked stalls, but it at least gave me a fifty/fifty chance of them focusing on the other stall first, and seeing it empty, they might leave me alone.
Yeah, the odds weren’t in my favor, but I’d take fifty/fifty over one hundred/zero any day.
The two guards are now in the hallway outside.
Hopefully, they were lazy about their jobs and skipped the bathrooms, because seriously, no one breaks into a data center to use the toilet.
And hopefully they weren’t smart enough to figure out that a bathroom would be a great place for someone to hide when it was the only unlocked door in the building.