The Next Chronicle (Book 1): Next (8 page)

Nunez chuckled. “Yes, well. That's a lifetime of comic books and science-fiction for you. The real work here is the same as anywhere else. We just do it better and faster.”

“Why is that, exactly?” Kit asked as they moved into the next hallway.

“
Simple, really,” Nunez replied. “The Surge changed a lot of people, and for every Next out there capable of flying or blasting holes in concrete, there are others with more subtle abilities.”

“
I'm sorry, what is the Surge?” Kit said.

The pleasant expression on Nunez's face faltered. “Ah. Yes. I'm referring to the destruction of Fairmont. The burst of energy that day spread all around the world, causing many Next to become much more powerful. That is why most of us didn't even realize we were different before then.”

Kit opened her mouth to ask another question, but Nunez quickly put a finger to her lips. The older man couldn't know how close he came to having a fistful of broken fingers, but the nervous way he looked around cautioned her against a hasty reaction.

“
I can answer anything you want to ask, but not here. Save it for the end of the tour, please.”

Kit frowned at him, but nodded. Weeks of unwrapping the small mysteries of the facility gave her enough patience to deal with things like this.

Through door after door, the tour continued.

“
This is another robotics lab, where a team is developing nanotechnology ten years ahead of anything else in the world at present...here we have experimental energy systems, where new forms of power are being researched, as well as large-scale storage technologies...this is Sven, he works alone. Yes, the hydroponic garden is large, but Sven enjoys toying with plant genetics in peace.”

There weren't many areas of science and technology left out of the massive research area of the facility, and while most of the space was dedicated to workstations interspersed with lounges and living quarters—nearly all of the lab employees lived on site—there were enough examples of ongoing projects and experiments to leave Kit in a state of awe. She thought the weapons development center, where things like pulse grenades and advanced armor were in a constant state of creation and improvement, was the last wonder for her to see.

She was wrong. The final section of the lab was situated between a supply closet and a bathroom. The scuffed door held a placard etched with the words “White Room”.

Nunez, like a gentleman, held the door for Kit as they entered.

“Huh,” she said. “That's truth in advertising.”

The room was, in fact, white. Floor to ceiling, pure and pristine. There was no furniture, and though the outside of the door appeared old and worn, the inner portion matched the room. Nunez let it shut behind him, and a gentle hiss followed as unseen machinery sealed the room tight.

“Now,” Nunez said as he turned to face Kit. “We can speak openly.”

“
I'm getting tired of cloak-and-dagger, Doctor,” Kit replied.

“
I quite understand, Director Singh. You must remember that we now live in a world, and work in a facility, where people can project their minds over space and time, even into technology to use and control it. There are few places that are truly safe to speak. This room is one of them.” He gestured around. “This is a kind of Faraday cage, except it stops all radiation and energy of all kinds. Even superhuman powers. Here, no one on earth can spy on us.”

Kit took that in. “Is there reason to think someone
is
spying on us?”

Nunez grimaced. “You are co-director of one of the three most important facilities in the world, Ms. Singh, in charge of prisoners capable of leveling a small city if they escaped as a group, and a research wing that has to hold back much of its work because it would radically disrupt the world economy in a heartbeat. I think your superiors would be idiots
not
to spy on you, yes?”

“
When you put it like that...”

“
There's really no other way to phrase it, is there? Now, you were curious about the Surge.”

“
Very much so, Doctor.”

Nunez took a deep breath. “I'll be quick, as it's a bad idea for you to be off the grid for too long. We've lost a director for that very reason before. So, the
Surge. In simple terms, the wave of energy released by Ray Elliot was comprised of two kinds of power. The first was from his own ability to steal energy from solid matter, breaking molecular bonds and absorbing their energy. The second form of power is harder to explain.”

“
Give it a shot,” Kit said.

Nunez suddenly looked haunted. It was a subtle change, but his features tightened slightly, his eyes narrow, fine lines appearing in his forehead. It was the look of a man who knew too much and had to keep that knowledge to himself.

“We refer to the event at Fairmont as the Surge, but also to the energy the event sent out into the world. The event itself was singular, but the tide of power that washed over humanity shows no signs of receding. Did you know that before that day, I was a mechanic? I worked on cars for a living, Director. Oh, I was smart then. I have always enjoyed learning. But when Ray Elliot happened to the world, I was changed. It wasn't that I suddenly knew more than I had before, but rather that every piece of knowledge in my brain became accessible at once. I saw connections between things I never would have imagined before. I drank in new facts with no effort, remembering them instantly and every new piece of data becoming another part of the huge tapestry of understanding in my brain. My capacity to learn, to theorize, to make intuitive leaps, grew geometrically in a single day.”

Kit tried to imagine what it must have been like. Her own powers developed slowly, but eventually had their own eruption, though she had the luck to be prepared. She tried not to think about that day, but couldn't help wondering how much worse it would have been had her mind suddenly grown too big for her head.

“I see from your expression that you grasp how disconcerting the change was for me, Director. Remember that every single person under me, to the most junior member of my lab, could tell you the same story. We're all Next. All of us made more intelligent by the Surge.

“
And what I'm about to tell you, even Archer doesn't know. It's something I'm fairly sure only a handful of people in the world are aware of, every one of them former directors here. Do you want to know?”

Kit smiled grimly. “Actually, I think I know. You're about to tell me that this energy, this
Surge that all Next have access to...it's getting stronger, isn't it?”

Nunez's mouth dropped open. “How in the world...”

“I imagine for you, Doctor, it became obvious because you realized you were getting smarter, right? Tough thing about being so brainy is that any realization seems like one only
you
could have come up with because you've got so much more going on between your ears than the rest of us. No, relax, I don't mean that as an insult. I didn't understand why before today, not knowing about the Surge, but now it makes sense. I imagine it would to a lot of other people.”

Nunez interrupted. “What makes sense?”

“I'm getting stronger,” Kit replied. “And faster. My senses sharper, all the things that set me apart are improving. I'm sure a lot of other Next have noticed it, too. And not one of them is telling. The world is tense enough as it is. Imagine how much worse it would be if people knew we were getting even more powerful?”

Looking relieved, Nunez nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, exactly. God, when you say it like that, it makes me feel so stupid for not seeing it. Of course people would know. You'll need to go soon, I'm sure, but think about this: what happens when the prisoners here grow too strong for their cells to hold them?”

The cool wind whipped Kit's hair as she coasted down the back roads, taking her away from the facility and toward the city. As director, she could requisition any car she liked, and there was, for whatever reason, a sporty convertible in the garage that seemed like just the thing.

Archer, who had been trying to convince her since arriving to go out and enjoy herself, was happy to keep an eye on things for the rest of the day. He suggested a small cafe on Baker Street, and the GPS pinged away as the car sped toward it.

The landscape moved by as Kit let herself momentarily forget the things she had learned. Not just today, but the plethora of secrets she had to keep. It wasn't too much to handle. Just too much to process at once. Years in Helix taught the value of decompressing.

Moving into the city during lunch was an effort, which helped her to forget her troubles. Louisville had grown immensely since Fairmont, much faster than trends beforehand indicated. Kit spent a lot of time reading in an effort to catch up on the world since she had hidden herself away in Helix.

As she took in the metropolitan sprawl, expanded roadways dotted with huge apartment complexes, factories, university annexes, and all the other structures that came with civilization, she remembered a news story from years before.

The report was about the population boom. Tens of thousands from around the country began to migrate to Kentucky's largest city in the years after Fairmont. Many were workers cleaning up the destruction, though she knew now that the construction of the facility afterward was a major reason for the influx. It had to have taken unbelievable resources to create, above and beyond the hundreds of Next who took part in creating the facility. The question struck her: did those Next know then that they were building a prison for their own kind?

Also in the report was the curious fact that Louisville had a Next population much higher than the national average, also likely due to the facility's construction.

Much like Austin, Texas and its 'Keep Austin Weird' campaign, Louisville became known as a Mecca for Next. A place, despite its proximity to Fairmont and the deaths of thousands, friendlier to superhumans than most others. Kit wondered if that peculiar reputation grew from some kind of overcompensation, the locals taking the attitude that “someone like you killed our friends, our family, but we will show you that we are not afraid by welcoming you. We will conquer our fear by confronting you and
choosing
to see you as human beings.”

Whatever the original reason, over the following decade the city had embraced its reputation. That much was obvious as she reached the city proper. The skyline looked like a precursor to
Blade Runner.
Buildings rising high and taking shapes that conventional construction simply couldn't account for. Rapid population growth, teams of builders who could fly and carry materials to the top floor at just below the speed of sound, and rapid advances in materials science from Dr. Nunez's teams all added up to a fantastic cityscape that changed almost daily.

Kit parked a fair distance away from the cafe, content to walk the rest of the way.

Baker Street looked like any other niche part of town. You might run across it in New York or Boston except for the abundance of green. Trees grew at regular intervals along squares of grass in every available free area. Even a few pieces of old growth still hung over the road itself, preserved by the locals in an effort to keep a fragment of the wild land alive and visible.

On closer inspection, it was clear that this place was different than most stretches of road in the country. The asphalt had a slightly reflective quality, like it was coated in an almost-invisible sheet of glass. Kit noted no oil stains or cracks, no debris. The sidewalks glimmered in a similar fashion, but weren't at all slippery.

Then there were the murals.

The shops and bars and grand old farm houses lining
Baker Street were painted. The front of every building was a part of a sweeping riot of color, a continuous story writ large across the neighborhood. In them many scenes were depicted, some simple while others were cleverly executed. A burning building, two crashing cars, a man holding a woman hostage, dozens of others. Kit was struck with a sense of iconography, similar to ancient Egyptians trying to tell the story of their world for future generations. Every image was different, but a unifying symbol was shared among each one.

A man in blue with dark brown skin.

“Careful there, or you're going to trip,” a voice said.

Caught up in staring at the murals, Kit nearly walked into a table in front of the coffee shop. The voice belonged to a petite blonde woman wearing black glasses with thick lenses. One of her arms was outstretched as if to steady Kit, and the young woman's short sleeves revealed tattoos that started at the wrist and continued until they vanished under her shirt.

“Uh, thanks,” Kit mumbled.

“
No problem,” the woman said. Kit gave her a more appraising look and noted a name tag.
The Bean
, it said, and below that a name: Paulette.

“
Are you lost?” Paulette asked.

“
No,” Kit replied. “Actually, I was looking for this place. I just got distracted by all this.” She gestured toward the painted buildings. “I've never seen anything like it.”

“
Pull up a chair and I'll get you a drink, tell you all about it if you wanna hear. What's your poison?”

“
Do you have mocha cappuccino?”

“
Sure.”

“
I'll take that, then. And the company if it won't get you in trouble.”

The slim blonde smiled. “It won't,” she said. “I own the place.”

A few minutes later Paulette returned with a giant steaming mug of distilled heaven. The smell was intoxicating, and Kit took her first sip without even blowing on it.

“
Paulette, this is amazing. Marry me,” Kit said.

The other woman made a face. “Ugh, don't call me that. It's just for the name tag. Everyone calls me Peep.”

Kit raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“
Paulette Perkins, if you believe any parents are that cruel. P.P. naturally became Peep.”

“
Okay. Peep it is.” Kit held out a hand. “I'm Kit. Kitra Singh.”

They shook. It was a strange sensation for Kit, as she rarely touched people. Usually only to kill or capture them.

Peep untied her apron and sat down. “Curious about the pictures, yeah?”

“
Yes. It's a little strange. Don't people get angry about the graffiti?”

“
It isn't graffiti. Every one of those pictures is a true story,” Peep said. She pointed to the brick over The Bean's awning, where the man in blue was depicted stopping a robbery. “Those are our way of saying thanks to Phillip Darby. He's a cop who lives around here. Our own personal hero.”

Kit straightened in her chair. “He's a Next?”

Peep's gaze chilled. “Yes, he is. Is that a problem?”

For a moment Kit didn't understand, then burst out laughing. “Oh,
god
no. I was just surprised. All the vigilantism laws, you know.”

Peep warmed slightly. “Right. Phil doesn't do anything illegal. He's a cop, and anyway Good Samaritan laws have his back in a pinch. He just helps people. A lot. This used to be a rough area several years ago, but he keeps us safe now.

“It started about five years ago. Most of the buildings here, the ones that have businesses in them, have apartments on the upper floors. There was a fire. No one really knew Phil, then. He was just a cop who lived down the road, kept to himself. But he flew up to the window of the building, scared the poor guy inside nearly to death. Phil saved everyone in the place, even ran through the worst of the fire to make sure no one was left behind. The top floor collapsed on him and everything, but he came out of it without a scratch.”

“
Wow,” Kit said. “Sounds like a tough guy.”

“
He's a Black Band,” Peep said casually.

Kit choked on her coffee. “Really? You're serious?”

There were several kinds of ID rings worn by the Next. Kit's own was gold—Helix's color—while the majority were color coded for the particular Next they belonged to. Black bands signified someone with two major sets of abilities, and they were pretty rare. It sounded like Phillip Darby was a strong physical Next, but what was the other, mental or energy? Whatever it was, a black rating meant serious business. A telekinetic at that rating could pick up a house with the power of his brain, an idea that Kit still had a hard time grasping.

“
Oh, yeah,” Peep said. “Louisville has a higher percentage of black bands than any other city in the world. I think the last I heard, there were more than a hundred here. Everyone knows that.”

Kit shrugged. “I didn't.”

Peep gaped. “What, have you been living in a cave? Louisville is famous for it. A few of them are cops, a couple firefighters. Lot of them in construction, healthcare. One guy runs a delivery service all over the county. He can run faster than the speed of sound, I hear, but they make him keep it below Mach so he doesn't blow out windows.”

“
Not to mention eardrums,” Kit added. “I had no idea. Is it like this all over the city? People being so comfortable around us?”

“
If you're asking about universal acceptance, then no. But I don't know of any place that doesn't have its share of assholes and frightened people. Louisville is generally pretty tolerant.”

Kit smiled. “That's surprising”

Peep returned the smile. “At least it's a good kind of surprise. By the way, you really should put your ring on. Even around here they frown on breaking that law.”

It was Kit's turn to gape. “How'd you know?”

Peep stood, retying her apron. “You said 'us' when you asked about people 'round here accepting the Next. Not rocket science, lady.”

A flush crept up Kit's face. Rookie mistake. “I'll remember that, thank you. And thanks for sitting with me. I think I might actually take the plunge and move into the city. It's so different from what I expected.”

Peep laughed. “That's so weird. Here,” she said, handing Kit a card. “I live in the apartment over The Bean. And as it happens, I'm looking for a roommate. Have been for a while now. Strange that you should show up.”

Kit began to laugh as well, but a sudden certainty cut her off.

“Peep, do you happen to know a man named Rowan Archer?”

The other woman's eyes widened in delighted surprise. “All my life. He's my uncle. Comes by here three or four times a week.”

Kit tried to feel angry, but didn't have it in her. “I'll give you a call about the apartment. Tomorrow okay with you?”

“
Sure,” Peep said. “If you see Uncle Rowdy, give him a hug for me.”

“
No worries about that,” Kit replied. “I'll squeeze him until he can't breathe.”

Kit didn't knock before entering Archer's office. Not that he noticed. He was on the phone, listening intently with his back to the door.

He snapped the phone closed and leaned his head against the window frame, arms braced above.

“
That wasn't very subtle of you, Uncle Rowdy,” Kit said in a loud, clear voice.

Archer started, spinning around. “Jesus!” he shouted. “You scared the crap out of me!”

Kit stood with her arms crossed. “I met your niece, Archer. She seems nice.”

“
She's a good kid,” Archer said. “Sorry. I thought seeing a little bit of the real world might help you deal with it a little better.”

Kit scowled. “Hate to admit it, but you weren't wrong. It was nice to get out for a while.  And before you ask, yes, I am thinking about getting a place in town. Whether it's with Peep or not, I don't know.”

Archer nodded impatiently. “Good. Keep thinking about it. But for right now, read this fax I got about twenty minutes ago.”

“
A fax? I thought we avoided using electronic communication here?”

Archer handed the thin stack of paper to her. “We do. This was too important to wait, though.”

Kit scanned the documents. They were local, and the even the grainy quality of the pictures told more of the story than she wanted to know.

“
Good god,” Kit said. “What is this?”

Archer threw his phone into his chair in frustration. “It's a crime scene. Best estimates put the time of death at about seven this morning.”

Kit looked at the grisly photos. “For which one?”

“
All five of them. All killed at once,” Archer growled.

“
There are six chairs,” Kit said. “Six place settings at the table.”

Archer stared at her. “Good. Very good. Yes, you're right. The other five members of the family were killed. The youngest child, Thomas, who is eight, was taken.”

“Fuck,” Kit spat. “One of us did this.”