Vessel by Matthew Bryant

Author:Matthew Bryant [Bryant, Matthew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781703703665
Published: 2019-11-19T22:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

Scott leads me across the main area, beyond a large partition that seems set aside as a mechanic’s shop. A brief glimpse shows a drill press, rigged gantry, hydraulic jacks, and a ton of things my mind can’t register as I keep quick pace behind the man. Another section, set behind stone, has the familiar hum of multiple generators. Probably large ones if they’re the sole source of power here.

Paige’s office is at the far end of the main room, much like the operating room I was in earlier, except this one is equipped with a proper door.

Inside is a wall of security monitors, most of which are dark, but a few in working order. I recognize two in particular directed towards the community service station. The room stinks of stale cigar, but there’s no smoke cloud awaiting me when I walk in. Still, Paige is chewing on the tail end of an unlit bit of brown wrappings, burned down to little more than a nub. His attention is focused on a tablet rigged up like a computer monitor displaying half a dozen scrolling line graphs that I have no hope of identifying without any sort of labeling.

“Find the place alright?” he asks without turning to look at me.

“Yeah, hitched a ride with Scott,” I thumb in the direction behind me, then turn to find the place empty and Scott nowhere in sight. It doesn’t take long to find him passing from screen to screen from the cameras set throughout the facility. From here I get a good view of the other areas, hidden behind partitions. All things save personal living spaces, though the shadows on the canvas left little to imagination.

“I see you had a little tour of the facility. Tell me, Mr. Fallows, what do you think of our little community?”

Given the hospitality, I figure it wouldn’t be in my best interest to avoid insulting the man. “Can’t say I saw too much, but your short game is depressing and any end-game seems nonexistent.” My mouth never really had my best interests in mind anyway.

Rage boils across the man’s face in terms of darkened features and twitching jowls. “What the fuck do you know about running a community, huh? Think you could do better?”

“Never said anything like that,” I respond, keeping my voice temperate. “I’ve learned my lesson and do my damnedest to make sure the only life I screw over on a regular basis is my own.” I attempt to hold my tongue, but it listens as well as it usually does. “That doesn’t mean others don’t get rolled into collateral damage from time to time. Probably more frequently than I’d like to admit. And I admit that the place has an almost nostalgic feeling of home for me. Though I’m gonna chalk that one up to a brief stint I spent living under a bridge with a bunch of other homeless kids struggling to get by. It’s surviving for sure, but so far from living that I can’t imagine anybody settling like this.

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