Between Two Worlds

A little over two centuries prior, our world was engulfed in a global conflict, teetering on the brink of nuclear obliteration. Nations' citizens, in a desperate bid for survival, abandoned Earth to evade the escalating casualties. Their foresight proved prescient; eight years into the conflict, nuclear devastation rained upon nearly every nation. The aftermath was total annihilation - flora, fauna, humanity - all extinguished.

A century elapsed, and the progeny of those refugees resolved to reclaim Earth. However, they were met with an unrecognizable hellscape. Mutant creatures prowled the wastelands, ravenous for flesh. Even the vegetation wasn't spared from mutation and developed a taste for blood. Over half of Earth's waters turned a lifeless brown, unfit for consumption. A perpetual haze shrouded the sky, dimming the once-vibrant sun.

It was only upon dismantling their ships for resources that the settlers uncovered Earth's new denizens - the enigmatic Ghemin. Initially indifferent to human presence, the Ghemin eventually imposed their dominion over humanity, instituting the perplexing lotto. Its purpose remains a mystery - if annihilation was their goal, why not execute us in our slumber? Why not exterminate us en masse? We stand defenseless.

Some speculate it's a means of population control - a theory many elders subscribe to. The Ghemin have shown odd bouts of benevolence, quelling the wild beasts that terrorize our settlements. As my end approaches at their hands, I am determined to confront them with a final inquiry: Why spare us intermittently? I harbor no illusions of their compliance, yet I cling to the hope for that final act of mercy - an answer.

Once everyone is inside, they spread us all out, just inside the door. On our way inside, I noticed that you couldn’t see anything happening in here. Something is on the windows. Some sort of tint? But a quick look behind me shows that we can easily see out. The last few stragglers are quickly emptying the town square. If only I could leave as well. I turn back around and take in the scene around me. The inside of the Genetix Lab is a lot brighter than I imagined. At home, we have a few dim light bulbs; and outside, the sun barely shines through the hazy mist. In here, my eyes hurt from the bright fluorescent lights. As my eyes adjust, I see that we are in what appears to be some kind of waiting room.

There is a strong sharp smell in here, which makes the whole place smell “clean”. The lights seem to glint off every available surface, from the glass behind us, to the extra shiny floors. My mouth drops open slightly in awe. There doesn’t seem to be a speck of dust anywhere. At home, we can’t seem to keep the dirt out, there’s so much dirt, it seems to just float on the air. We are always cleaning and then we still have dirt lying in the corners of the room. It gets frustrating, but here, that doesn’t seem to be an issue. It’s almost as if the air itself is being cleansed, preventing dirt and dust from floating around.

Hanging on the wall, in front of me, is some sort of large window. Wait, not a window. Screen? I think the word is screen. I’ve never seen one before, but I have heard of them. Ancient humans used to watch stuff on them. I think they are called JP screens. LQ screens? No, TV screens. It’s fascinating to see a Ghemin soldier on that screen, but I can’t make out what it’s saying. It’s speaking in some language I don’t recognize and making wild gestures.

As I step behind the counter, the Ghemin soldier's presence looms before us. "Now that you've entered," he commands, his voice slicing through the tense air, "divide yourselves. Men, to my right," he instructs, gesturing firmly. "Women, to my left," he directs with a pointed finger. A hesitant shuffle fills the room as we comply.

My heart races with dread. They're splitting us up - is this the prelude to our end? In a desperate grasp for comfort, I latch onto Wolfe's arm. Childish it may be, but the thought of facing death alone terrifies me. "Wolfe!" I plead, my voice tinged with fear.

"Quiet now, Rain. It's going to be alright," Wolfe reassures me, his hand gently patting my head in a soothing rhythm.

But before I can find solace in his words, another soldier wrenches me from Wolfe's grasp. He drags me down the corridor by my shirt collar, his grip unyielding. "Ladies, this way," he orders sternly, signaling for the others to follow.

Amidst the chaos of orders being barked and soldiers scrambling, my gaze is abruptly pulled towards a tumultuous scene. Wolfe, with a fierce determination etched across his face, is sprinting in my direction. In a swift motion, he collides with the soldier who has been dragging me away, forcing the grip on me to loosen as the soldier turns to defend himself.

Another figure, clad in the uniform of authority, strides towards Wolfe with deliberate steps. A sharp crack resonates as he strikes Wolfe across the head, then presses the cold barrel of his gun against Wolfe's side, bellowing commands that slice through the air. With his hands raised high in a gesture of surrender, Wolfe complies, retreating in the direction dictated by his captor. Yet even as he moves away, his voice carries back to me—laced with threats and a fierce promise to annihilate every last Ghemin should the chance arise. His words are a blend of rage and resolve, vowing not to let them lay a finger on the sister he has fought so vehemently to protect.

Wolfe's curses fade into the distance as we are pulled further apart, but his defiant proclamation lingers in my mind. I can't fathom what drives him to voice such bold threats when no opportunity for retribution seems forthcoming. Perhaps it's simply his way of facing the grim shadow of death that looms over us all. Yet there's a bitter comfort in knowing that Wolfe would hazard everything for my safety—even if it seems an exercise in futility.

Springing to my feet, I attempt to dash towards Wolfe, but a soldier's firm grip on my arm halts me. "Ow!" escapes my lips as a jolt of sharp pain emanates from my shoulder, likely dislocated by the soldier's rough handling. Dragged through endless corridors, each turn a blur, I'm eventually cast into a cramped chamber. My arm throbs incessantly with pain as I struggle to stand upright. The Ghemin soldier exits with haste, the door slamming shut and the ominous click of a lock echoing in the confined space.

Surveying my surroundings, I note the monotony of color; floor, ceiling, and three walls cloaked in an unvarying hue. The fourth wall, however, presents a peculiar sight—a transparent barrier made of a glass-plastic composite. A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I'm compelled to take deep, steadying breaths. Despite knowing better, claustrophobia grips me—the walls seem to inch closer, the room's dimensions more oppressive than my own back home.

The drab brown that dominates the room only heightens my unease, conjuring memories of a river's embrace and a near-fatal encounter with its depths.

I sit down on the bed a moment. You are not in the river; you are safe on dry land. Maybe not safe, but defiantly on dry land. I notice the bed is up against one wall, and there is just enough space to stand up next to it. I stand up and find that two steps get me to a toilet, and another two get me to the clear wall. At the clear wall I find what appears to be the outline of a door. With my good hand, I touch it, feel a warm but painful sensation, and jerk it back. The word electricity comes to mind, another ancient human technology. We have electricity at home, but it only lights our rooms and helps us to cook food. I’ve never seen it used as a way to keep people in. And our electricity back home is very dim, unlike here.

I move away from the door and place my good hand on the clear wall, it’s safe, no painful buzz. I press my face to the wall trying to see what’s out there, I’m surprised by what I see.