The elevator pulled into the last stop, clicking into place with huge metallic claws that magnetised to the platform with a heavy, chunky crunch. As soon as this happened the room dimmed a deep red and a loud, blaring single tone sounded. In an instant water jets spat out from holes in the corners and walls, attempting to scrub every surface of stray carbon.

  A curled-up Flick shuffled in his sleep before a beam of water brushed over his body. He shot up with a gasp just as another beam passed by, wringing the dry spots of clothing until only sopping fabric remained.

  Luckily no one was around to witness his embarrassing attempt at regaining a professional exterior, fully aware of the giant gates imminent opening. However it was clear to the factory workers once the doors reopened, revealing the late delivery boy and the small pond collecting at his feet. The now calm and collected Flick was practically drenched in water, with the sterilising fluid even flooding out of his helmet in buckets.

  As the workers began to pile into the truck to collect the much-needed carbon, a slightly embarrassed Flick stepped out of a nearby locker-room with fresh clothes warming up his body. The towel in his hand was still periodically drying out the remaining water still in his hair, when a clipboard wielding man presented himself to Flick.

  “Um, you know you’re supposed to take your gear off before the cleaning process right? That room’s just for the cars.” The man curiously asked Flick, who was hitting the side of his head in vain attempts to get the liquid out of his ears.

  “Yeah I noticed, just thought I could… Y’know, speed up the process, now I only have to do the drying!” he said innocently, faking a smile.

  Before Flick could embarrass himself any further the man quickly handed him the clipboard.

  “Just sign here please, oh and when you’re done the Boss wants to see you”

  “Oh?” Flick retorted, genuinely intrigued

  “Yeah, dunno what it’s about but I don’t think he’s happy”

  “He never is-”

  The man suddenly waved his hands in front of Flick, goading him to stop talking before he said anything more “Dude! There’s ears everywhere! You can’t just say that out here-”

  Flick brushed the man off and began making his way to the Boss’s main office, at the dead centre of the factory district. The factory district was just one of the names used for convenience amongst the people, the reality of what the place did was far too diverse and numbered to define accurately. The entire bubble was filled, wall to wall, with different industrial devices intended for different purposes, some made for construction, others made for energy production like the furnace Flick had just delivered for.

  Some people named this district after all the factories, but just as many had ulterior names they each preferred. Each and every building was dedicated to a different aspect of material life. Whilst the entire circle had the wiry large pipes and steam vents of an industrial play place, many corners were occupied by things completely foreign.

  Cloth stations, sawmills, distilleries and a few others too niche for Flick to remember. All of which surrounded the impossibly large glass structure in its centre, flooded with molten metals that gave the place light it wouldn’t otherwise have. Not only this, but a vast majority of the space used here was for research and development. In fact it would be more accurate to name it the ‘science district’ with how many of the shacked buildings were dedicated to the speciality. That was the name Flick was partial to, with the amount of white coats dusting around the place he found it hard not to draw association.

  Below the gridded floor that Flick stood on were thousands of pipes that stretched downwards for miles and miles, almost into the very base of the bubble. Instead of pipes at the bottom however, there was a series of giant engines and reactors, coupled with large cups filled to the brim with molten metals that cast a menacing deep red glow on the walls where shadows tended to linger. The whole place was caked in the metallic brown decay of production. So much so, in fact, that Flick almost cut himself on several occasions, whether it be from the various different railings littered about the place, or the walls that were practically sharpened by the metallic rust.

  Flick found himself quickly adapting to this place after a while and now made absolutely sure to walk around with his hands pocketed for safety. Today wasn’t any different, especially on his journey to the main, scientific, office. Which he often did after shifts as a result of the boss.

  Finally reaching a giant spire of steps and rooms, he began his ascension to the very top, passing by an uncountable number of smaller offices and storage rooms on his way there. Each one had a small check in gate like the ones detailed in old train stations, with little slots to insert dog tags for verification. Every time Flick encountered one he vaulted over and continued the climb, which almost always added to his exhaust at the end.

  By time he made it to the top he could barely catch his breath, so high up in the air that one could even see the horizon of the planet just outside of the pillar. Despite how many times he made this climb, his thin frame and poor, fast-food based, diet just couldn’t keep up with the infamously steep steps. The boss of the science department, and by extension the whole district, lied just behind the door at the top.

  Many called him a cold and unfeeling shell of a human being, and his office position seemed to reflect it. His body was said to be like that of a malnourished demon that moved in rigid motions, matching his brutal personality that whipped his lesser workers to the bone. Some have even witnessed others having breakdowns after just one stern conversation with him. his reputation was definitively infamous, and just as sharp as the walls that encased him.

  Taking one last deep breath, Flick stepped towards the door and entered through it, bracing for the stern telling off he was about to receive.

  An empty glass bottle flew towards Flick the moment he stepped into the office, bouncing off of his head and miraculously not shattering from the impact.

  “It’s about time, dummy” The boss of the science department, and by extension the whole district, barely looked in Flicks direction as he spoke, “could you hurry up next time! I’m already bored enough as it is!”

  “Ah- jeez Simon, could you at lea- ow-“Flick rubbed his head tenderly, “could you at least try throwing lighter?”

  “No can-do bud,” Simon continued, “Imma keep throwing ‘em until you get the message, now get over here I’ve gotta have ‘a word’ with you”

  Flick was still touching his forehead, flinching each time he did as he made his way over to a nearby table, propping himself up on it and folding his arms awaiting patiently for Simons scolding.

  The room itself was ridiculously modern and sterile, a harsh contrast to the surrounding industrialised environment. Surprisingly however, instead of the pearl white walls someone might expect each surface was dark, moody even. The overhead lights were switched off permanently (with the wires promptly snipped by Simon himself,) shielding the entire space from the glaring white light it should’ve had. Instead, the dozens of monitors that lined the windows of the office casted electric hues of blue and white that burned themselves into the walls. A result of Simon’s nasty habit of overexerting himself at work.

  In all the years that Flick knew him, he rarely remembered him venturing outside much. The dark depths of a cave were more suited to him than the outstretches of streets beyond, and the head science room fit the bill perfectly. Most of his fondest memories with Simon lied here, in the depressing office surrounded by the hum of machines.

  In all honesty, the chaotic space that enclosed him matched his stature to the T. His almost luminescent pearl white hair frayed in every which direction, other than down. It was as though a gust of wind had pulled it into a sort-of jumbled spool of wire, made entirely of loose soft string. His ghostly coat paired well with his mad hair, littered with creases and folds but still shone a pristine glow of cleanliness somehow. He was rarely seen without it, even walking about the pillars alleys and marketplaces he would still cover it with a gilet or similar jacket. Even still it always remained spotless save for the crumpled edges.

  There was a blue cloak he was supposed to wear, but Flick never saw it on his shoulders, only crumpled in a corner underneath wires and dust.

  From a glance it was almost as if he was calculating, constantly, predicting every move of every variable. However Flick knew more than anyone else that Simon wasn’t what he seemed. Instead, just a tired man who does far too much for his work, like everyone else he knew.

  Eventually, Simon began to talk with a strong and stern attitude, formal and robotic with its discipline. He tried to start with a speech about formality, but once Simons eyes met Flicks they both burst into laughter, unable to take one another seriously. This went on, back and forth, for several minutes, maybe even hours. And with each attempt at seriousness taking less and less time to devolve into hilarity and idle chit-chat. After a while, Flick kicked his leg into a box that sat below the table he was on top of by accident, creating a disturbingly loud metallic thunk, followed by the whirring of technology.

  Simon perked up, “Hey! Whoa there dingus, don’t kick the box!” he leapt to his feet, rushing under the table to check on the mysterious device

  “Oh, my bad” Flick cautiously retorted, making sure to quietly withdraw himself from the desk. “What is that thing anyway? its always here collecting dust,”

  “Classified”

  “Not even a name?”

  Simon breathed a heavy sigh of frustration and acceptance, knowing full well that Flick wouldn’t just simply leave something alone.

  “Okay fine, it’s a pet project of mine called ‘Wayback’”

  Flicks eyes widened with interest on what this could mean, but before he got the chance to ask Simon quickly cut him off with an immediate hush.

  “Not saying anything else Flick, seriously.”

  Simon rarely said Flick’s actual name, not unless he was dead serious about something. It was perhaps the only thing in the world that would immediately get Flick to hesitate in pursuing a subject. Flick averted his mind’s fascination, and instead focused on the more pressing matter going on inside of his body. Stretching his arms wide and far, he began to ask an ancient and historical question. One echoed through thousands of generations before his.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Have we got any more beers man, I’m bone dry right now,”

  Simon shot a menacing glare at Flick before suddenly realising that he too was feeling the effects of sobriety. It took him a good few minutes of deep recollection before he turned back to Flick, “There might be some in the back of the freezer room but…”

  “But what?” Flick’s eyes were already locked on the freezer door,

  “Buuut we one-hundred percent need permission to open that door-” sensing Flicks confusion already, he continued, “the freezer is literally made to store our history dude, one fuck up and BOOM,” he threw his arms back dramatically, “Hundreds of years of knowledge dies-”

  Before Simon could even finish Flick was already on his way to the door.

  Simon interrupted him immediately, “NO! seriously man, we can’t”

  The distressed scientist turned away from his childhood friend out of frustration, furrowing his brow and tutting nonsense to himself. The moment he saw his opportunity Flick began rummaging through a nearby box, in an attempt to find a tool useful enough to get into the freezer. It was locked securely with both a keypad and a card scanner, which was more than enough proof that it was important without Simons deliberate explanations. Nevertheless he finished his scavenge just as Simon turned back around from his brief migraine. He locked eyes with Flick in a dubious way that doubted his ability to keep still.

  Flick smiled innocently and bemoaned, “Damn, it’s a shame we couldn’t get a drink huh? Would’ve been nice…”

  Luckily within the box that Flick was searching through a spare fusion cutter, or perhaps a faulty one, was clumsily stuffed below the various spare parts and wires. Whilst Flick wasn’t exactly academically smart like his dear friend, he was at least knowledgeable enough to know that the cutters created some form of plasma. Or at least that’s what he thought, something that wasn’t too far off of electricity. If his assumption was correct then at the right setting it could potentially disrupt the electricity passing through the lock on the freezer. Like a magnet disturbing electromagnetic waves or whatever… or a normal magnet disturbing electricity?

  He wasn’t quite sure which was which, but he was at least confident it might work at opening the door. In any other circumstance this small electrical disturbance would be negligible, only enough to make a lightbulb flash, at most. However that was exactly what Flick needed at this point in time, just a brief flicker of the electricity would surely disable the lock, or at least bug-out the program keeping the door shut.

  And so, once Simon turned his back once again, this time to retrieve what little he had left of an energy drink, Flick huddled over the cutter in his hand and gently turned the dial down. Fraction by fraction, it lowered until he was certain it was enough to barely create heat. He pointed the device, now primed with the temperature he needed, at the locking mechanism on the wall. Gently manoeuvring the fleshy pulleys inside of his hand, he made sure to clamp the ignition handlebar as gently as he could see possible.

  It was at this point where Flick suddenly realised, or perhaps even remembered, that it was probably broken, and it was already apparent what was faulty with it. The handlebar screeched an awful noise as he pulled, that of steel grinding against more steel, evidently alerting Simon almost immediately. Unfortunately for him, in the brief moment the cutter was turned on its effects had already taken course and the freezer door now swung wide open.

  The two simply looked at each other in disbelief. Simon, because he couldn’t possibly comprehend that Flick would go to this length for drinks, and Flick because he couldn’t believe his stupid theory actually worked.

  “O-oh! Would you look at that, it’s open!”

  Simon sighed, “Just be quick about it idiot, I don’t want to be fired for this”

  Flick quickly shuffled into the freezer, scanning around the incredibly spacious room for any sign of alcohol. However, as he gazed through the room he began to slow down and breathe heavier. There was something incredibly eery about this room, something he couldn’t comprehend that Flick simply hated. It all became clear when he suddenly realised what his eyes were passing by so casually.

  A line, nay, a collection of pods containing frozen human beings, each one with their eyes wide open, staring outside of the small windows that lined their temporal coffins. Flick had never seen a human being in this state before, their once glassy eyes now sharp with fractals of ice. Something about it disturbed him to his core, and yet he found himself unable to look away from them. Simon soon followed into the freezer after Flick, clearly showing and apathetic attitude that could of only been earned from prior knowledge.

  “To be fair I haven’t been in the freezer myself either, Flick” Simon comforted “I’ve only ever heard of it from management”

  “How are you so calm about this, man!?” Flick asked angrily, still unable to tear himself away from their image,

  Simons eyes were cold, almost lifeless, as he responded “Experience, Flick… Experience,”

  Flick frowned “You could have at least told me that this was a graveyard, dick!”

  Trying desperately to avert his attention away from the bodies, Flick quickly paced deeper into the freezer leaving Simon behind without words, completely inconsolable.

  The lights in the freezer began to dim the further back Flick went, walking past relics of human history that were entirely alien to him. But none of them could get his mind off of the eyes of deceased, following him as he walked faster and faster. It was only the biting cold that eventually snapped him out of his delusion, conveniently placing him at the very back of the freezer in front of a myriad of cardboard boxes. In his hysterics he hadn’t realised how deep into the freezer he went, and had no clear way of telling how to return. With no other choice, he conceded to rummaging through the boxes, assuming Simon would eventually catch up to him anyway.

  They were stacked nearly as tall as he was and showed no signs of being catalogued in any way whatsoever, with various different sizes plopped right on top of each other. Right beside the tower of boxes however, lied a small desk with significantly less clutter. In fact, from what Flick could see, there was the small blue, plastic crate that could only belong to a cheap beer case. Once he hobbled over to the box and lifted it, making sure to cover his hands from its freezing touch as he did so, the simple sound of clinking glass made it obvious that his intuition was correct.

  He grinned from ear to ear, glad that he had at least gotten something out of the weird experience moments prior. What he didn’t anticipate however, was the folder of paper stuck to the bottom of the crate that sagged gently under its own weight. Peeling it off, Flick narrowed his eyes to read the words that were barely lit by the flickering lightbulb above. Slowly spelling the huge penmanship aloud he read,

  “W.A.Y.B.A.C.K”

  Just below these letters lied the date of the file, reading ‘2022’. Flick’s brain began to pound against his skull, if this date was correct then that meant this file was made almost two thousand years ago. And if that was true, then why would Simon lie about it being his ‘pet project’? Just how significant was the weird, noisy box to Simon, if he was willing to casually lie to him just to keep it secret?

  Before he had the chance to read the contents of the file, Simon managed to find his way to the back and promptly interrupted Flick’s train of thought.

  “Oh, good you found the beer!” Simon rubbed his hands together, “Alright let’s get back to the room that isn’t poisoning us and chill-“

  “Wait what?” Flick asked genuinely,

  The concern on Flicks face was evident but all Simon could do was look back with a confused glance

  “Um, yeah man obviously. Did you actually think the air in here was safe to breathe?”

  Flick fervently waddled himself and the crate of beer back to the entrance, not wanting to idly stay around to test Simon’s claims. All the while, the very same Simon calmly walked back as if nothing was inherently wrong.

  “WHY WOULD YOU SEND US IN THERE IF IT WAS POISONOUS!?” Flick yelled,

  Simon covered an ear and flinched, responding plainly, “I didn’t even send you in there dummy, you were the one who forced open the door!”

  Flick huffed, “WHATEVER- at least now we have drinks”

  Flick calmed himself, unloading the crate as he did so. However it was an almost immediate realisation once the feeble crate hit the table, that Simon and Flick clearly did not think about the logistics of drinking frozen beer.

  “Okay, this is actually gonna take, like, three hours to defrost Flick.” Gesturing towards the door he continued, “Wanna just grab a bite and come back later?”

  “Why didn’t we do that to begin with?” he quickly cut himself off before Simon could get the chance, “Oh yeah, money,”

  “If we pool together what we got we can probably get something half decent to eat?”

  With both of them agreeing on the new plan, they scraped together the spare change they collectively had and just barely crossed the threshold for some cheap fast food. Swinging out the door from the office with a clear plan for the rest of their night, they left the beers to warm up as they made their way to the place they always seemed to end up.

  Despite having to unfortunately wait for their drinks, they were both eager to eat something hot once again. Good food was a rare commodity in any pillar, but west siders like Flick and Simon were already quite used to the sharp, mystery flavours that permeated most of the common meals. The only solace within the food were the drinks usually sold alongside them, only good enough to wash out any lingering aftertastes. But even then, they were usually overpriced to hell and back because of the quickly diminishing resources within the pillar.

  Once the two reached the bottom of the spire of which Simons office laboratory sat precariously on top of, they briskly made their way back to their ever-familiar homestead. Just like in his dreams, the streets at this time were baked in an orange-yellow glow that was quickly diminished by stalls screaming to life with brilliant, coloured lightbulbs. Before long the lights in the sky shut off, revealing a cascade of uncountable moving stars that shimmered just as brightly. Neither of them had realised that the night had loomed over them so quickly, but welcomed the dark ambience it brought. Simon revelled in the slow feel on the night air. The tangible sensation that people around were on their afterburners, clinging to the last of their energy. preserving themselves for the exclusive entertainment of the dark. As usual, Flick couldn’t tear his eyes away from the stars above and hardly noticed the steady vibration his friend loved so much. It was a good thing, Simon preferred to keep his little enchantment to himself, and enjoy it as it came.

  Before long the two of them had already arrived at a run-down fast-food place, ready to eat a tried-and-true staple food of both their diets. A simple dish made with day old fried rice and chunks of meat. An assortment of spices and sauces were added too, of which Flick could only hope were at least somewhat natural, all topped with a single fried egg.

  Neither of them knew how or who originally came up with the idea, but both would gladly give their lives to them any day of the week. It was a no no-brainer for them. It’s only fair that they give their lives as this was probably one of the few things that they looked forward to when living anyway.

  The restaurant was nothing short of shabby. Only big enough to fit around three customers max, with the only possible seats available being made of a flimsy synthetic vinyl.

  The lights didn’t help much either. From the streets perspective, the garish blue and pink lights blended in with the other litany of neon from the other stalls. Within its own contained space however, the bulbs seared their obnoxious glow into the eyes of anyone who dare behold them.

  Flick and Simon couldn’t care less about any of the blatant and long-lasting issues present with the restaurant. All they cared about was whether or not the food was edible, and even then their definition of edible was somewhat skewed by their consistent financial ruin. Nevertheless, this was their frequent spot. And neither could see themselves going anywhere else.

  The seats bent under the weight of their bodies as they sat down and they slammed their collections of loose change on the sticky counter-top. The chef took one look and knew exactly what the two men wanted, and in blistering speed whipped it up in front of them, piping hot and ready to fill the stomachs of two dead-end adults.

  Before long the bowls between Flick and Simon had all but been demolished, and were soon to be replaced by more, that was until the sky shifted its hue. From a clear sky, it shifted into a glaring blood red that was segmented into squares that blanketed everything in patchwork. A warning text flew along its axis. Once the two arose, they quickly saw the cause the alarm.

  Off in the distance were plumes of black smoke, shrouding a raging fire.