trismugistus's profile

A man - an office drone, a nobody, just another bum-on-a-seat in the corporate world - finished work. He shut down his computer, locked the cupboard in his cubicle, put on his jacket. There was no-one but him left in the office... another day worked late with no over-time to show for it. On the way out, the man exchanged a nod with the security guard, Eric, who, despite having seen him every weekday for the last 10 years, still didn't know his name. His name is John, by the way, although we a...

The muffled thump of metal on metal. Again. A third time and the door buckles. A final blow and the thick metal door breaks from its hinges, falling into the room with a crash. Hard white light streams in through the doorway, silhouetting an enormous figure holding a heavy, steel battering ram. He steps back, disappearing into the spotlight glare. A second man steps into the light. He holds a terminal out in front of him and scans the room, its bright-green light blinking off-and-on, reflecti...

The muffled thump of metal on metal. Again. A third time and the door buckles, a piece of the lock flying off and hitting an overturned chair. A final blow and the thick metal door breaks from its hinges, falling into the room with a crash. Hard white light streams in through the doorway, silhouetting an enormous figure in a radiation suit carrying a heavy steel battering ram. The figure steps back, disappearing into the glare of the spotlights. A second figure, also wearing one of the bulky ...

He climbs, struggling not to lose his footing. The man stretches out a gloved hand and grabs a steel reinforcement-bar. It is one of many. They used to be buried deep inside concrete walls, now they are just another part of the devastation--convenient handholds in his search. The man hauls himself up onto the mountain of concrete. "Are you okay, Professor Steadman?" a voice crackles over the intercom. Professor Steadman stands and looks out across the ruined USAF base. He is breathing heavily...

He struggles not to lose his footing. The man stretches out a hand, grabs hold of a long steel bar sticking out of the wreckage and hauls himself up onto steadier ground. The bar was once buried deep within thick concrete walls, reinforcing them, holding them up. Now it is just a convenient handhold for a stubborn old man. He should have let someone else do this. Someone younger. Someone fitter. He should be sat in the back of one of their air-conditioned trailers, watching via the suit's hea...