Another Day At The Office

A man and a woman walked together through a cold room, unaware of Miles watching. There were some blue light panels across the walls but other than that the room was completely white, giving it a hospital-type look. The walls and the ceiling down to the beds and equipment. The beds completely lined the whole wall, leaving room for only a small white table with equipment and a wooden chair that was, yes, also white. In the chairs sat middle-aged adults of various genders and many races. No emotion was shown on their faces, and no one was talking besides the man and woman walking through the room. It seemed as though they were overseeing whatever process was happening there. Miles didn't know why he was there or whose bed he was sitting up in. Simultaneously, the men and women sitting in the chairs by the beds picked up a syringe from the table of equipment. They continued to stare solemnly down at the bed assigned to them. In the bed were children. Small children. They all looked to be about the same age. Multiple wires were connected to them, as if they were being tested for something. Or something was being tested on them. The adults in the chair all raised the syringe and, at the same time, plunged it into the arm of the child.

Miles woke with a start. He was sweating. A lot. And his arm hurt. Why did his arm hurt?

"...about time!" someone was saying.

Miles shook his head and sat up. His father stood as the side of his bed, gripping his arm tightly and shaking it, trying to get Miles to wake.

"Chill out, Dad," Miles groaned, rolling over to look at his alarm clock. 5:30 a.m. "What are you doing this early in the morning?"

"Just get up already, we're going to see someone."

Miles got out of bed as his father left the room. His head was spinning. Where was his dad going to take him this time? Miles put on his clothes and combed his short, brown hair. He looked at himself in the mirror and frowned. He'd always been way too lean and, despite his newfound strength, there still weren't any muscles to be found on his body. He was average height or a little below, which meant he was shorter than most of his classmates, and he had brown eyes. He didn't know exactly what it was, but he also had something about him that made him an instant target for bullies. Something about him just screamed vulnerability and always managed to set off the radar of every mean kid in school. He hoped that one day he'd figure out what it was.

Miles decided to stop staring at himself in the mirror before he became even more self-conscious. So he decided to go ahead and brush his teeth so he could get downstairs before his dad got angry. He'd never had the best relationship with his dad. When Miles was young, his father was never around. For anything. Yesterday was the first time in a long time that Miles had seen his father for more than twenty minutes at a time. He took Miles to the gym, which was surprising, considering he had never taken Miles or his brother Mark. But that wasn't the only strange thing that had happened recently. Then there was the deal of Miles' newfound strength. Miles had never before been able to dent a punching bag. That was unheard of, even for the strongest of people, which Miles wasn't. He was the weakest of people, if anything. He always had been. His parents had strictly prohibited him from trying out for any sports.

Miles finished up and quietly made his way down the stairs. He knew that his mom would still be asleep and he didn't want to wake her. Neither did Martin, apparently, because he simply waved for Miles to follow him out the door, not saying a word. Miles obliged, following him out and hopping into the truck.

"So," Miles said once they were on the road, "where are we going this time?"

Martin looked over at Miles, probably debating whether or not he should tell him.

"Work. In Richmond," he said and continued to drive silently.

This shocked Miles. He had never been to his father's work before, or even knew where his father worked. Richmond was a long drive from Hampton, where Miles lived. He didn't even know what his father did for a living. So after all this time, why now? Why take Miles now? Miles hadn't even been outside of the city except for Newport News, where he went to school. He figured it had something to do with his strength. It had to be. When two strange things happen at once, they have to be connected. Right?

They arrived an hour or so later at a giant unmarked building. They walked up to a steel door and stood there as a blinking red dot scanned his father's eye.

"It's a retinal scan," Martin explained, probably seeing the confused look on Miles' face. "For security purposes."

Satisfied, the dot vanished and the door opened. Martin and Miles walked in. The building seemed even bigger on the inside. There were massive hallways and doors leading off them into dozens of rooms. The interior of the building was white, with red lights. There were curved patterns on the walls that Miles thought he'd seen before. He barely had the chance to look around though, because barely five seconds after he was in the building, an alarm started blaring.

"What is this, Martyson?" a man in a strange red uniform ran into the room. He looked at Miles for a second then spoke into his walkie talkie thing. "It's just a kid. No, not one of them. One of our mens'. Yes. I'm doing that right now. Just turn the alarm off, already."

The man hooked his walkie talkie back on his belt and looked back at Miles.

"Okay, come with me," he decided. "Both of you."

Martin and Miles followed the man down a hall and into one of the rooms. It was an office. There was a desk with a computer on it. One chair was behind the desk and two were in front of it. The man sat down behind the desk and Miles joined his father in front. It felt like getting suspended all over again.

"What were you thinking?" the man yelled. "You just broke one of our top rules, this is no take-your-kid-to-work day! Especially with what we're going through now. Everyone is nervous. They do not need an alarm going off because some stupid kid is here."

Miles considered himself to be of mediocre intelligence, but he didn't think it was the right time to contribute that to the conversation.

"Don't you get it? He's one of them! I don't know why I didn't know it or ever see it before, but he's one of them!"

Miles looked over at his father. Was he talking about Miles?

"What are you talking about?" the man asked, squinting at Miles.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Martin replied. "Show him, Miles."

"What?" Miles blurted. He'd completely lost the conversation, and didn't know what he was expected to do.

"Your strength. Now," his father hissed.

Miles focused on the desk in front of him. Then, thinking about the anger from yesterday, he slammed his fist down. It went completely through the desk, creating a hole the shape of a fist. To his surprise, the man behind the desk smiled.

"Now this..." the man said. "This is interesting. The boss will want to hear about this immediately."

"Hear about what?" a familiar voice asked.

Miles spun around to see his mom standing in the doorway. How was she there? A man walked in behind her, his eyes narrowed. He was middle aged with black, unruly hair, and he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Then the alarm went off, and the blaring sound from before was resumed. Men with the same strange uniforms rushed in with guns and started firing. Miles dove under the desk instinctually. Someone grabbed him from behind and he elbowed them, not able to turn fully around in the position he was in.

"Ow!" he heard. "Hey, Dawn? A little help over here?"

Then his vision started to blacken. He saw the face of a boy that looked to be his same age leaning over him. The sounds of gunfire continued, but it was dying out. And then everything went black.