Authors: Ryan Casey
Tags: #Mystery, #debut, #Contemporary, #nostalgic, #drama, #coming-of-age, #Suspense, #childhood, #Thriller, #General Fiction
TCorps used to be nothing more than another pharmaceutical company, struggling to break even. Unofficially, the biggest product was the flu tablet, but in reality, the brickdust and rat-shit filled penis enlargement supplements went down a treat. Sure, TCorps’ hands were dirty, but which leading pharmaceutical company’s hands weren’t?
That was until 2042, and the discovery of the medicinal benefits within micro particle accelerators. People were living longer. The discovery of the Adam particle and its undisputed potential brought in considerable profits. Flu tablets were replaced by particle exposure. Brian didn’t fully understand why it worked. Did anybody? It seemed to work, and that was all that mattered.
Brian pulled his keycard out of his lab coat pocket and took a deep breath, swiping into his private office area. The suitcase in his other hand was damp around the handle, as he tightened his fingers against it. He couldn’t let it go. Nobody else could see what he had seen; at least, not yet.
The office door opened, and he scurried in, checking one last time that no-one had been watching him. Just the janitor, and a tall man with ginger hair in the distance, looking similarly shifty as he smuggled something into his office under his jacket. Brian shut the door, flicking the extra lock across it, to be on the safe side. He dropped his case onto the table. It began to wobble at either side. He flung his arm to the other side of the case to support it.
How stupid!
He couldn’t let himself become complacent, not now. All that effort and all that work, wasted—no. He couldn’t bear to think about it. He bit hard against his lip.
Brian stared at the suitcase as it sat on the table. It felt as if it were staring back at him, its greying leather and dulling gold clips so… constant. He’d had that case for years, stuffed away under his wife’s many shoes and handbags. Now, though, it had meaning. It looked relevant. Brian took a peek outside the metallic blinds once more to check the area was clear, then paced over to the suitcase and began to open it. His fingers shook, and he felt giddiness in his stomach again. If this worked, which it should, then it was huge. He would tell someone about it, probably sometime soon, but he needed to see it for himself first. There was nothing wrong with that.
Was there?
The case rattled open, as Brian applied gentle force to each side. His stomach steadied as he saw the capsule inside. It was only small, perhaps as small as a child’s little finger, but it was enough. His heart began to pick up in pace as he reached into the suitcase and pulled the capsule from its position, being careful not to rattle it or shake it too hard.
He stared at it for a moment. Everything had led to this. He licked his lips in anticipation.
Brian walked over to his particle machine. Rubbing his hands down the interior, he thought about all the things he had put in there over the years. Mice, rabbits—even a monkey. Never himself. He couldn’t ever know what was going to happen, or whether he’d make it back, but he had to try.
He clicked the power button at the side of the machine and wandered back and forth around the room as it warmed up. The familiar whirring would not turn any heads, especially with the soundtrack of the generator in the main corridor. But it’d be typical for someone to walk in, the one time he was actually doing something of value. Karma, or whatever they used to call it.
Brian began to put his clunky grey protection gear on, complete with gloves. He looked like an idiot, but nobody would notice him anyway, if he’d programmed the solution correctly. Pulling the St. Christopher medallion from around his neck and emptying his pockets, he spotted the hologram of Cindy, and his kid, Roger, on the screen of his phone. Staring at them, he thought back to that day in the park, with the sunshine. Those were nice days.
He stroked their faces and put his phone to one side. They’d be so proud of him.
When the machine whirred at full pace and a blue light beamed vertically through the centre, he lifted the lid of the little metal capsule and sprinkled a bit of the dust onto his thick glove. Then, he reached towards the machine, being cautious not to make contact with the light, and let the substance drop from his hand. It began to fall to the bottom of the machine, before taking flight like a team of helium balloons towards the sky. Seconds later, the dust was barely visible. Brian took another deep breath, and readied himself.
*
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Silhouette is available to purchase via the links below:
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