The Bunker continued

     “Why are you ignoring me?”
     He tried the handle, locked. Andy lit up and rolled over to him.
     “David.  Please, your parents are sleeping.” He took hold of David’s wrist and pulled him away from the door. “You must sleep. You have class tomorrow.”
     “I know I have class tomorrow,” David roared. “I always have class. I am fed up with class, with this place. I need to get out.”
     Andy made no reply as he dragged David to his bed.
     “Sit, David.”
     David sat down. It was futile to resist. Andy’s grip was too powerful. He had never been manhandled by one of the robots before and for the first time the reality of the situation dawned on him, he shivered impulsively, knowing you are weak changes you. The moment the feeling rose, Andy let go, as if he somehow realised, perhaps he detected a rise in temperature. He rolled over to the door, wedging it shut, then turned out the light.   
     “Go to sleep, David,” he said in a tone which reminded him of his mother.
     Exhausted from rage and confusion, David lay motionless, until sleep finally washed over him.
     The following morning, at 7am precisely, his mother knocked loudly on his bedroom door to wake him. David could barely have had two hours sleep. How was his mother so sprightly? The fear of just a few hours ago was gone, and in its absence David was filled with the will to fight. He refused to move. Ten minutes later, his mother barged in, Andy by her side. The sudden noise woke him back up.
     “Get up,” she ordered.
     “Nooo,” he croaked, pulling the blanket over his head and turning on his side away from her. “Leave me alone.”
     Under the duvet, David could sense her standing completely still, waiting for something, and nothing, his face was being coated in condensation. The air was growing thick with CO2.
     “You have school,” she said.
     “I don’t care,” he snapped back.
     “You should care!”
     “Why?” he said ripping the covers off his face, sitting up, and glaring at her.
     “Because you should,” she said with infuriating calm.
     “I’m not well,” he retorted, laying back down and rolling away from her again.
     “That’s impossible. You know we have eradicated all disease here. There are no illnesses anymore, no genetic problems. You, David, are a perfect specimen.”
     “It’s not that type of illness. Don’t you know anything?”
     “Not that type of illness,” she repeated slowly, as if saying the words for the first time.
     “God you’re so annoying, go away.”  He pulled the covers back over his head.
     Andy began rolling towards him, ready to enforce the rules.
     “No, don’t,” she said thoughtfully.
     Andy stopped, hesitated, then reversed, disappearing out of the bedroom.
     “Very well then, David. We’ll play it your way,” she conceded after several long moments. “I will contact Mrs. Kobayashi.”
     “I literally can’t believe it,” he said uncovering himself and looking at her. “Thank you.”
                            #
     It was the strangest thing waking up at midday, at his leisure. No one shouting at him, no rushing his breakfast down, no flattening the creases. He realised that this was the first time he had actually been in the apartment without one of his parents. He stepped out in to the living area, the lights and Andy turning on at his presence. On the dining table was a pile of books, papers, and a pen; he vowed not to look at them. He flopped down on the sofa and grabbed the remote. Just static. He switched channels, all static. He opened the drawer; all films, all electric devices, gone. He picked up the phone, the line was dead. He could feel a sensation rise within him, heat travelled to his extremities. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to remain composed.  They really did think of everything.
     He tried the apartment door, locked. He pulled on the handle. The more he pulled the tighter it became, like handcuffs. He found it impossible to believe that a door could act this way. He tried his parent’s bedroom door, locked. Why? Why? Why?
     He splashed his face with cold water, then filled a glass, his mouth had become suddenly very dry. He paced to and fro. Aggravation grew with every step. His mind twisted with questions he had no hope of answering. Andy watched on expressionless, mute. The sound of his tracks, starting, stopping, restarting, following David about, weighed down on his consciousness. That metallic sound became all he was aware of. He felt his parents laughing at him through Andy’s movements. Every fibre of his being seethed.
     “Stop following me,” David roared filling the void with his voice.
     The sudden boom echoed off the walls and back into his ears. Andy just looked up at him with stupid blue lights, saying nothing. David’s grip around the glass became tighter, his fingers turned white, the glass cracked. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, then put the glass down. He was trapped and there was nothing he could do about it.
     By degrees, the books filled his vision. They were calling his name. They were piled so frustratingly enticingly.  He turned away from them, disappeared into his bedroom, and lay on his bed staring up at the blank ceiling. Over and over he repeated the same questions: Why does Mrs. Kobayashi get to say? When will we be ready? Why can’t we see behind those doors? What are they hiding? Why are they hiding it? The incessant questioning was getting him nowhere, he knew how futile it was to sit and wonder why; there was nothing he could do, not now. Eventually, he stormed out of the bedroom, sat down at the table, and opened the text books. Conceding defeat for the time being.
     Just before five, the door opened and in walked his mother. David looked up from his studies, put down his pen, and watched her enter. He had all but forgotten his anger; it flooded back the moment he laid eyes on her. They eyed each other with penetrating glances. 
     “Hello, mother,” he said cuttingly.
     “Hello, David,” she replied, handing Andy her bag.  “Good day?”
     “What do you care?” he snapped, noting her sarcasm.
     “More than you can ever imagine.”
     An icy silence ensued between them as she sauntered over to the kitchen, washed her hands, and began prepping for dinner. She ignored her son, who stared on, as if watching some kind of natural history programme.
     “You’re so weird,” he said smirking ironically, shaking his head, and picking up his books. But, nothing ever rattled her.
     At dinner David’s mind was in overdrive. Why weren’t they asking him what he did today? Why aren’t they asking if he feels better? How had he never been aware of their utter indifference before? He listened to himself, some deep part of him had always been aware of their nature. But to be faced with this, this was something else entirely. Their silent behaviour forced him to uncover lost memories. They were confused. Had his parents always been like this? Had he repressed something a long time ago? Why could he remember a better time? Flowers, fun, love. Perhaps he had only invented these happy domestic scenes. A coping mechanism that he had forgotten was a coping mechanism. Maybe they had always been this way. Maybe he had only just become aware of it, again.
     “Eat your food, David,” his mother said coldly, glancing at him briefly, supremely unconcerned for his mental turmoil.
     David obeyed, reluctantly, for lack of a better response.
     Shortly after dinner, a fatigue swept over him. He could barely lift the remote control to change the channel. The next thing he saw was a blurry vison. He was lying in his bed in some sort of paralysis. Somehow, he had woken, despite his lethargy, almost as if the deep recesses of his unconscious mind wanted him to fight the chemicals, needing him to glimpse at the scene before him. With half-open bleary eyes, he could just make out his parents standing silently over him, watching, observing. They weren’t alone. All the parents were with them. But Mrs Kobayashi was the closest to his head. She was bent over, as if examining him. The moment passed, and he fell asleep, almost as if it never happened at all. But it had.
     The next morning he woke in the usual manner. This time he did as commanded, knowing no good would come of defiance. As he dressed, he almost managed to convince himself that the strange occurrence was nothing more than a dream. Almost.     
     He left the apartment at the same time as Katherine, who just looked at him, smirked, and began the walk to class. Silently he trailed after her. Trepidation grew with every step, the atmosphere seemed to grow thicker, the pressure rose. Trapped with nowhere to run, he was walking the walk of the condemned man. Yet, everything proceeded as normal, like it was just a minor glitch in the programme. Everything except him. He gripped the large screw he always kept in his desk, as if it were a stress device. He gripped it so hard, the thread transferred on to his hand. Still he held it. He stared out the window. The trees gently swaying in the wind seemed to know he was watching and appeared even more beautiful and natural. His mind wandered. All he wanted was to feel the grass, to touch the leaves, to feel the cool breeze, to smell the air, to touch freedom.  Why was his father allowed outside? He clearly had not been wearing a radiation suit because if he had his boots would have been clean. What was going on? The blood in his veins heated and fizzed, his head seemed to expand with unanswered thoughts. Overcome by passion, David suddenly stood bolt upright. The class fell silent. Mrs Kobayshi stared at him. He stared back at her. He was rigid with anger. Shaking. He couldn’t speak. Everyone was looking at him.
     “What are you hiding from us?” he screamed suddenly with a rage he couldn’t control.
     As he spoke the screw appeared to leave his hand voluntarily and fly towards the window.
     Time seemed to slow as everyone watched the screw turning and twisting through the air. Before he had a chance to realise what he had done - Smack, it hit the glass. Everyone winced, except the teacher. What followed next was entirely unexpected. No cracking, no shattering of glass, no hole in the window. No. The screw bounced off and fell to the floor. The image flickered, went white, readjusted itself, and continued to display the picturesque image. But now, in the screw’s wake was a black circle. Vertical and horizontal lines radiated out of the black hole. It was nothing more than dead pixels. David slowly stepped closer to the image, touched the screen, and leant his head against it staring into the pixels. Why had he never noticed this before? He turned to Mrs. Kobayashi.
     “You’ve been lying to us,” he accused.
     All the children turned their heads and set their eyes on her.
     “No David, no one has lied to you,” she replied with perfect calm.
     “What?” he retorted, unable to contain his disbelief.
     “No one has lied to you.”
     “How do you explain this then?” he bellowed, motioning toward the screen with an upturned palm.
     “We never told you it was a window, David. That is what you chose to believe.”
     “That is what we chose to believe,” he said in a way reminiscent of his mother when she repeated his words yesterday.
     “Yes, David.”
     “I can’t believe you. The screen is embedded into the wall, nothing like the images in the corridor.”
     “So?”
     “So!!!”
     He put his hands to his face and rubbed his temples with his fingers. He wanted to feel something; he wanted to make sure he was still real.
     “Think, David.”
     “What do you mean?” he snapped, on the edge of tears, glaring at her. He could hear his mother’s voice telling him to keep his mind open, echo in his teacher’s words. “Think about what? Why are you always so cryptic?”
     His voice faded and the classroom filled with silence. Twelve pairs of eyes looked upon their mistress with confusion and curiosity. Mrs Kobayashi looked over her students slowly, one at a time. They all held their own, not one of them glanced away from her fearsome eyes.
     “Very well then,” she said walking towards the classroom door. “Perhaps it is time you learn the truth. Come with me. All of you.”
     Out they went into the corridor, inching towards their destiny. As Mrs Kobayashi approached the end of the corridor, the door opened, automatically. How does she do that, David thought? When all thirteen of them were safely inside the hexagon vestibule, she turned to the door first on the left. They all held their breath in anticipation.
     They walked into a hanger. It was filled with various types of machines: construction, mining, land vehicles, aeroplanes, space explorers. People and robots were busy fixing them. Not one person took any notice of the children. In the air, was a distinct smell of methane. Mrs Kobayashi led them though the room, through a warehouse. On the wall hung twelve space suits. The children stared at them as they passed. She led them into an office. An observation room.
     “Before I show you what is outside, you have to understand that the nuclear fallout from the comets was far worse than we led you to believe. Reactors melted down all over the world. It was the China Syndrome on steroids. The sea was polluted past the point of no return. Volcanoes erupted everywhere without warning. Conditions were impossible for life.”
     “Show us,” David said.
     “Very well.”
     She clicked a button. The wall slowly lifted to reveal a glass window behind it. A real window this time, there was no doubt.
     The children were stunned, in utter disbelief.
     “It’s beautiful,” said Marie, spellbound.
     “Amazing,” added Albert.
     Before them, filling the entire horizon was a huge pale yellow planet surrounded by rings.
     “It’s Saturn,” managed Duane eventually.
     “What the…” David uttered. “We’re on Titan,” he added tearing his eyes away from the scene before him.
     Mrs.Kobayashi nodded.
     The fact that his parents were outside without space suits simply paled into insignificance in light of the fact that they had never, in all their lives, been on Earth.   
     “You are clones, David. Clones of the best scientists and mathematicians humankind had to offer. You have been conditioned to be even better than your originals, because we knew how to expand your capabilities. You have been learning your skills since you were embryos.”
     Silence prevailed as her words took root.
     “But, why not just tell us from the start? Why carry on this charade for years?” David croaked.
     “We needed you to believe that you were human, on Earth.  We had no other parameters in which to create you. We need your humanity, your creativity. That remarkable ability to make spectacular mental leaps. You are not bound to the same limits as we are.”
     Her voice seemed to come to them from a great distance. It was almost impossible to comprehend what she was saying. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. They stood helpless and stricken.
     “Come,” she said at last.  “We have a lot of work to do.”
     As one, they turned and followed Mrs. Kobayashi back into the sterile perfection of the bunker.