The Disparate One

Ray was behind Oxford when they traveled back to the elevator, leaving Ony still astonished in his cubicle. Ray and Oxford didn’t exchange any words for their entire trip. The silence between them bothered Ray to the point he wanted to ask if he broke any rules regarding tampering those documents. He pressed himself deeper into the corner, not making a single sound. Oxford had his tablet in his other hand while he stared at his phone, he was typing something.

Requesting.

The chime of the elevator barely changed the atmosphere between the two bodies. Oxford led the way through the halls which looked identical to the first one, where he picked up Ray. However, the only difference was the rooms. Upon entering first, Ray was instructed to sit down in the middle of the concrete room. One side of which had a wide, one-way window. In the four corners of the ceiling were CCTVs, directly aimed at the table set where Ray was. On his right, was another recording camera, slightly larger than any typical video camera. Its red light was blinking.

Oxford left him alone in this room, he explained he had to get something nearby. He assured he would return shorter than he expected.

Ray sat straight, arms resting on the cold table. His fingers interlocked with one another as he waited in silence.

He tried not to look at any of the cameras, it made him uneasy.

Raising his eyes towards the door, he saw the scanner next to it, displaying the word “lock’’ with a red background. Did Oxford leave him? Why would he? What would happen to him if he did? Could this be the place where the guards brought the girl earlier?

His lips quivered and his fingers began tap dancing on the shiny surface.

Seconds later, the scanner beeped, replacing the word ‘‘lock’’ with ‘‘unlocked’’ with a green background. The door slid open with a hum, revealing Oxford who smoothly pushed a stainless steel trolley into Ray’s sight. It had cabinets with locks on either side. He set it on the opposite side of the table for the recording camera to have a clear view.

The door closed behind Oxford before taking a seat on the other side of the table.

“This will be your last task for the day,” stated Oxford after clearing his throat. He straightened his suit before pulling out a strange-looking key which he used to open the first cabinet.

Ray’s eyes followed Oxford’s hands which pulled out a wooden case from the cabinet and rested it in the middle of the table. The simple craftsmanship of this case was as perfect as it could get. The dark wood reflected Ray’s face. He then looked at Oxford’s eyes which were coincidentally staring back at him. Without saying a word, Oxford magically put on a pair of white gloves.

Where did he get that? Ray thought.

Oxford lifted the top half of the wooden case, presenting an odd device that was, by the looks of it, absolutely well kept. Some parts of it were still shiny as if they were made just now. Ray wanted to examine it further, but he feared that his bare hands would cover it with his fingerprints, which could be the last trace of his existence.

“I’m just going to ask the same simple question for this entire session,” Oxford paused, waiting for Ray’s response which happened to be a gentle nod, “Do you know what this is called?”

Ray gulped, leaning towards the case, his head slightly at the top of the opening. He seated himself back before stating his answer, “A telegram?”

Oxford remained calm when he huffed seconds after his answer. He didn’t say anything afterward when he closed the case and placed it back in its cabinet. He opened the one next to it and brought it to the table. It was drastically smaller. It had a tiny screen fixed on it, below it were buttons. From Ray’s first glance, he could tell this was still a device. Oxford kept his mouth shut apparently, but his stares did question Ray.

“A p-phone?” Ray slid his hands off the table and under it, where he kept them holding each other.

Oxford showed no emotions, instead, he replaced the device with something different this time. It was at least eight times larger than the telegram and looked more fragile. It was a glass pentagon-shaped case with a metal tiny cylinder on each side. The case didn’t catch Ray’s attention, what was within did.

Ray inched himself closer to the object, hoping he could see something through the pure blackness. At first, he figured it was just tinted glass. However, the way it absorbed light made him think otherwise. It was as if Oxford was holding a tiny black hole.

“I don’t…” Ray stopped himself to guess rather than saying ‘‘I don’t know’’ which could disappoint Oxford.

“It… looks like a black hole, but…” Ray began to inch back to his seat, gradually looking back at Oxford, “... dark... matter?” he grinned.

Oxford raised his brow just a little for a few seconds while he held the object between them. He was right. Somehow he knew all these things and yet he couldn’t remember a single thing about himself. Oxford cleared his throat once more while he returned the object into its cabinet, locking it. He placed the key at the top of the trolley when he stood up and spoke.

“This ends our session,” he nodded at Ray before walking out.

Ray remained in his seat, gently glancing around, eyeing the trolley. He was wondering what was inside of the rest of the untouched cabinets. Repositioning his general hat, he noticed the scanner emitting a green light that bounced off the concrete wall. It was unlocked.

Ray’s eyes narrowed, debating whether he should leave his seat, to either go search for Oxford or return to his cell. It was odd for him to leave without any further instructions. His eyes slowly widened and he held his hands tighter.

Did I do something wrong? he thought, taking a deep breath.

The door suddenly swooped open, revealing Oxford who was awaiting him outside. The look on his face was something new. He was glaring at Ray who quickly stood up and left the room. Once the door closed and they were back in the hall, Ray was instantly shoved and pressed against the wall by Oxford whose arm flattened his neck.

Through the empty halls were echoes of Ray coughing and gasping.

“What the fuck you want?!” shouted Oxford, glaring at Ray’s reddening face.

Oxford gritted his teeth, keeping his right arm pressing on the other despite being pushed away. He wanted to know if this test subject was one of those robots who were just playing with him like the management always did. He wanted to see if Ray was mortal or immortal. Why did the management always do something like this to him? They only started acting like it ever since he was proven innocent.

Ray’s feet dangled inches above the floor as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Was this it? Was this the result of breaking something which he didn’t know to be a rule? But Oxford’s question said otherwise. He desired to speak, to defend himself, to prove that he needed to see another day, though he could only gargle on his spit clogging up.

Just as his eyes were about to close, he was released and dropped to the floor wheezing and coughing like someone had an asthma attack. His body was numb for a second until he slammed the floor. On his hands and knees, he breathed heavily while letting the moment sink in. He now wanted to go back to his quarters where he felt much safer behind that metal door.

Oxford gazed down at his test subject. He regretted what he did. He should’ve done something less brutal and terrifying. Great, he wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly ended up in Ray’s dreams. Though, one thing he was now sure of, Ray was mortal.

Oxford put his hand out to help Ray back to his feet, he could feel his hands shaking from the occurrence. Once Ray upright, he patted his shoulder and said:

“Sorry. I had to make sure you aren’t one of them.”

’One of ‘them’’? Ray thought while clinging on to Oxford’s hand.

Oxford further explained why he did such a thing all of the sudden. The recent one he had was someone from the management who acted like a test subject, not knowing a single thing about the past nor themself. He knew they were doing to prove he was indeed guilty of stealing the facility’s property. He knew that the test subject was bait. It was all thanks to Chap, who managed to look it up at the database, finding an official existing one.

Ray slowly regained his composure when he followed Oxford back to the elevator. He was glad he was still breathing. Though, his neck still hurts. He might ask Oxford to bring him to the infirmary, but after what had happened, despite clearing things, he was still frightened. He instead kept his left hand around his throbbing neck. He swallowed with difficulty when they arrived at a different place.

Stepping out into the single hall, Ray gazed around, admiring the set of marble statues that were feet taller than Oxford greeting them on the elevator. Passing the statues were a set of paintings all of which appeared to take place in the renaissance era. He couldn’t tell if they were authentic. These things, including the statues, didn’t catch his interest. His mind struggled to depict their meaning, or maybe because his mind was still focusing on what happened earlier.

Arriving at the end of the hall was a large front desk, no one was apparently on sight. The lamps were like the ones from any typical public library. The material used for the walls and the ceiling were made out of wood, the floor was white marble. It must’ve been freshly waxed due to how clear Ray could see himself.

Behind the empty front desk were three large letters made out of pure gold.

P.G.P. Ray read.

Oxford reached out for the bell placed in the middle of the desk, it was also made out of gold, its clapper was made out of diamond. The high-pitched ringing noise pierced Ray’s ears. All of the sudden, two heavy thuds boomed through the air. Something began to creak open as the gears behind the walls turned, clicking on every tooth.

Ray was searching around the hall but found nothing, he turned back around and saw the P.G.P. getting sliced in the middle of G with a thickening space. It took him a while to realize it was a concealed large double-door.

Eventually, the door opened fully, introducing Ray to a new section of the facility, the P.G.P Section. It was where they all store priceless documents and objects from the past, as far as mankind and the facility could remember. A person walked into their view from the left, he had his hands on his sides with a serious look.

“How many times do I have to tell you to not touch the bell?” said the man.

Oxford started walking towards the door with Ray behind. He introduced him to his test subject as Sion.

Sion had the same height as Oxford, slim, and noticeably two shades whiter. His perfectly combed hair was as red as his lips and as prominent as his cheekbone. He looked younger, probably around his 30s. He was wearing a green suit jacket with a shiny pin on his right, it wrote P.G.P.

“You know I have to even though it bothers you,” said Oxford, patting Sion’s back before proceeding into the vast space of shelves and cabinets scattered throughout, forming a maze. A maze of knowledge.

Walking down the long marble staircase, Oxford asked in a whisper to Sion about microbots. Even though Sion handled the section where they store relics, he was the smartest in the team, Chap came second. The rest was still in debate.

“They’re not playing you around this time, right?” murmured Sion after he glanced over his shoulder to Ray, admiring the scenery.

Oxford recalled what he did earlier, almost committing homicide.

“I’m sure they’re not.”

Reaching the bottom of the stairs was Sion’s desk, surrounded by towering stacks of books and scrolls and other historic pieces. Next to it was a parked four-seater buggy with an empty trailer hooked up to it.

“I’ll see what I can find, hang on for a second,” said Sion when he glided behind his desk to his computer to search for anything related to his colleague’s question.

At the same time, Ray was wandering around the space, eyeing each book under dust, some of which were stacked alongside the ends of the shelves while the others were wedged like Oxford’s folders. Ray kept his hands away from them, scared that only touching one could pop everything out or fall like dominoes.

Oxford tried his best not to look around when he leaned on his friend’s desk, watching Sion typing on the keyboard and Ray walking alongside the nearby shelves, some were sagging and leaning from the weight.

Ray’s footsteps were somehow silent despite the floor made out of concrete. It was more silent than that concrete room earlier. It was probably due to the layers of books and papers absorbing sounds. He returned to the group after his stroll before he could get lost and end up like that girl.

“I found nothing exactly as you said, but… I have found a similar blueprint from eighty years ago apparently, it says the project was ‘decommissioned’,” said Sion, turning the monitor to Oxford.

Oxford examined the document further, swiping his hand from left to right, zooming in and out. It wasn’t exactly what he was looking for, but this was as close as he could get for now.

“Alright… lead the way,” said Oxford.

Ray didn’t say a word when he watched the two board the buggy, Sion was the driver. They both looked at Ray who stood nearby, taking seconds to realize. He sat behind them.

The four motors began to whir when they smoothly took off. The suspension was soft, dampening the little crevices formed on the floor. The vehicle, along with the trailer, only whispered as they drove through the maze. Ray took his hat off even though it was just a breeze.

Sion navigated through the section like the back of his mind, whistling as he turned to a tight path, squeezing the buggy like a glove with only inches of space to spare. The light above wasn’t penetrating well due to some objects hanging above and protruding from towering shelves, hence he turned the buggy’s, flooding the front with bright lights. The coil whine was more audible now.

The peaceful joyride ended when they got out of the other side of the gloomy path.

Sion slowed to a halt and jumped off together with the three, they left the buggy humming. He pulled out a penlight from his pocket and beamed it in front of another gloomy, straight path where the vehicle couldn’t fit through. They walked under an arc-shaped out of books and other old stuff before arriving at a dead-end where rusty, grey filing cabinets sit under the darkness. Sion aimed the spotlight to the cabinet third to the left when Oxford stood next to him in utter curiosity. He handed him the light.

“The one at the top, beige-colored folder with bloodstains on it,” stated Sion nonchalantly to his friend now walking towards it.

Sion turned around to Ray who was standing against the light, barely seeing through the gloom. He found him pulling one of the old books from the nearest stack, opening it very gently as if the entire thing would disintegrate in his grasp. He silently walked up behind him.

Ray was running his fingers on the edges of the papers when he heard Sion’s Californian accent.

“Are you interested in history, or books in general?”

Ray slammed the book shut and quickly placed it back, he turned to Sion who had no trace of being disrespected.

“B-books in general I guess…” said Ray, standing still.

“’I guess’? Tell me, what interests you?” Sion blinked with curiosity, “Perhaps you have some questions regarding the facility? Surely everyone has a question.”

Ray looked at Oxford who was reading the blood-covered folder with the penlight, then he looked down to his feet, eventually meeting Sion’s brown eyes.

“Well… I suppose… Can you tell me more about how this place functions?” Ray squinted with a grin.

“Well, you have to be specific about ‘this place’, which ‘this place’ are you talking about? The entire facility perhaps?”

Ray nodded.

Specks of dust danced around when Sion huffed and left the darkness while saying, “alright”. Sion stood on the other side of the arc, the bright side one, he looked back at Ray who remained glued in his spot.

“Are you coming?”

Ray glanced at Oxford who wasn’t bothered by what was happening right now. Sion sighed and rolled his eyes before calling his colleague’s attention.

“Oxford, kindly tell your test subject that you’ll still be breathing when we get back,” said Sion with a straight face.

Oxford only replied with a stare at the two.

“See?” Sion looked at Ray, “Come on. It’s not him we should be worried about,” he added, waving his hand at him to the buggy.

Once Ray planted himself on the seat next to Sion, they left Oxford alone and drove through a series of tight corners and spaces. Ray admired the passing objects, first, they passed a group of marbled animals, then they passed numerous shipping containers before stopping near a bundle of yellowing computers.