2. Darkness
Sarah Maxwell wanted to do impossible things. She wanted to see things that few had seen. That was the plan. But then the sun went dark and now there was nothing to see.
She stared at the room’s inky void. It was a year ago today that the sun stopped shining. She unplugged the clock on her night stand and threw it into the closet. It was a useless piece of junk, now that there was no more day and night to mark the passing of time. There was only the now of darkness. Memories of brushing her long blond hair, her pale blue eyes looking back at her from the mirror—images she once took for granted were starting to fade like old photographs in a museum. Gone were the small joys, like choosing how to arrange her hair or which color of eye shadow she wanted that day. She missed reading books and daydreaming she was an adventurer, traveling the world and discovering things no one else had ever seen.
Those daydreams were now crushed, ground into chalky black dust that stung her eyes.
The memory was still fresh in her mind, the day everything went dark. She was lying on a cold examination table, the stiff paper crackling beneath her as she shifted uncomfortably. It was for the stupid wellness exam required by the government for entrance into college. She closed her eyes to shut out the clutter of noise from beeping machines and chattering nurses bustling about the room.
Her thoughts drifted to Tyler, who was also going to UT Austin. Was he the one? She liked him. A lot. They met on the tennis courts during their Junior year, and he asked her for a date on the spot. She turned him down and smiled at the memory of his surprised look. He pursued her the whole semester, and she finally agreed to a date after the week of final exams. That first date launched the most memorable summer of her life, filled with friends and trips and Tyler. They continued dating during their senior year and were both going to UT Austin. He was the one.
Today was her birthday, and everyone was going to the coast. Tyler would be there. He’d love the new swimsuit and coverup she bought just for this weekend. He’d make a fuss over how pretty she was, and she would run her fingers through his tousled brown hair, and they would talk of their future at UT and walk together, leaving footprints in the warm sand.
The stick of a needle in her arm jerked her back to the cold examination table. “Ouch!” Her eyes squinted under the bright lights.
“Hold still.” A nurse secured a device around her forearm with velcro. A tube extended from her arm and connected to a machine on the wall with a panel of graphs and lights.
“You’re connected to the Medibot monitor. You’ll need to lie here while the nanobots report on your health. I’ll check on you in about 20 minutes.” The nurse left without waiting for a reply.
Really? She was a tennis player in the best shape of her life. What if one of these things got stuck in her? Would it stay there forever? Sarah looked at her arm. It was just creepy—little invasive robot things swimming around in her bloodstream, checking for whatever they were programmed to look for.
Sarah plopped her head back and sighed at her plight. She closed her eyes and willed herself into a daydream, walking along the beach with Tyler, holding hands and watching tiny waves chase sandpipers across the sand.
What if he asked her this weekend at the beach? It would be a perfect place. And as if in response, he turned to face her and dropped to one knee. This was it. He looked nervous, and she smiled at him. A gust of wind whipped up, blowing a salty spray into her face and stinging her eyes. She let go of Tyler’s hand to rub away the spray, but another gust blew spray into her face. And then the sandpipers flew around her head, scratching and pecking at her eyes. She swatted at them wildly, screaming at them to stop.
The pain jolted her back into the clinic, screaming and grabbing at the hot needles jabbing her eyes. She screamed louder and writhed on the table uncontrollably. Hands held her down, and a chaos of voices shouted commands. A sharp pain in her arm. Someone cursed and shouted.
“The needle broke! Hold her still!”
More cursing, more hands pinned her to the table, and then something covered her mouth and nose, muffling her screams. She reached to pull the needles from her eyes, screaming at the hands pinning her arms to the table. Her legs were pressed to the table by heavy weights. Her arms felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. And then the yelling faded, leaving a still silence.
She was back on the beach, watching the sandpipers scurry away from the line of water that pursued them, then retreated. A little blond-haired girl was playing in the sand not far from her. She looked so familiar. Sarah walked toward the girl, and as she did, a swarm of crabs came up from the sand and began dragging the little girl into the water. She fought them, clawing at the sand as they pulled her toward the water. They were going to drown her.
Sarah broke into a run to rescue the girl, but her feet sank into the sand, causing her to fall forward on hands and knees. The sand eagerly swallowed her hands, pulling her face toward the sand. The surf swirled around her, catching her hair. Salty spray stung her eyes. She glanced toward the little girl and watched helplessly as the crabs dragged the little girl into the water. She was going to die. Her mouth opened to call the girl, but a wave hit her in the face, gagging her with salty brine. The ocean covered her in a great rush, rising above her head until there was no more light, and she was alone in the darkness.
They said it took five people to hold her down and sedate her. By the time she woke, the nanobots had done their work, attacking her optic nerves as if they were tumors, picking them apart one tiny piece at a time.
The sun died that day, and all the world with it. It was her birthday.
The hospital claimed it was an accident, then blamed a terrorist group. But they had not installed mandated safety protocols, so a coverup ensued. They ended up settling out of court, giving her a full-ride scholarship to the university of her choice and ten million dollars for pain and suffering. Ten million didn’t go very far these days. But the lawyer said to take it. It might be ten years before she got anything if it went to court. So they signed some papers binding them to silence and took the settlement.
Now, her world was devoid of light. No more color, movement, or shape. No sunshine or shadow. There was only darkness. She didn’t go to college that year. Would she ever go? Would she live with her parents forever?
Probably. At least, her body would. But her mind? It lived in a cell with one metal door and no windows. A tiny box with no light and no escape. On the other side of the door lived a beast. It waited just outside and often snorted and scratched at the crack near the floor with one of its sharp talons. It was an ugly beast with a cruel temper. She fought to keep the monster outside, to leave the door closed. Once inside, its talons were sharp and merciless, filling her with a consuming red rage. Left outside, she only had to endure its foul breath and a suffocating, dark depression.
She chose depression. It was easier to live with.