Russell Taylor, age eighteen, held his spark-blade professionally low. His deep brown eyes were fixed on the grizzled old man before him. He subtly adjusted his footing, leveraging his weight for a strike. The old man struck first. With a flash of his grey eyes, Michael Andrews Lehrmann surged forward, swinging high and wide. Russell met his opponent’s swing with one of his own, and as the high-energy weapons collided his ears were assaulted by a cacophony of angry crackling hisses. With practiced fluidity, the old man swung his spark-blade up and away, before bringing it to bear on Russell’s chest with a coordinated twist of his body. Simultaneously admiring his opponent’s grace and exulting in the obvious mistake, Russell switched his spark-blade from his right hand to his left while making the half-turn that would send the old man stumbling forward. The rest would be easy, even with his left hand. He raised the spark-blade.
His opponent vanished.
“Thought I taught you to use your blinker, boy,” said the old, dry voice. Russell bit back a curse as he felt the heat of his opponent’s spark-blade against his neck. “What good’s your sparker if you don’t know how to dodge?” The heat was retracted. “Nice footwork, though,” the voice continued in a milder tone. “You’re almost ready. Now let’s get you home. You’ve had enough for one day.”
Russell deactivated his own spark-blade and clipped the rapidly cooling projector to his belt. He wiped the sweat from his brow, pushing his thick brown hair up and out of his eyes as he did so. He’d indeed had enough for one day.
As they walked down the cold concrete corridor, Russell’s mind bubbled over with curiosity. “Doctor,” he asked politely, “is the surface really as dangerous as my father says it is?”
The old man chuckled. “Boy,” he replied, “if your good old dad knew half o’ what I know, he’d sooner cut his own heart out than let you go up there – ‘special training’ or not.”
Russell’s stomach tightened. “It can’t be that bad,” he said, more to himself than to his teacher. “I mean-”“Don’t you be makin’ judgments on things you’ve never seen,” the old man warned. “Now, here you are. Go on home, boy.” They had arrived at the city, the only inhabited segment of the Vault.
Russell stood still for a moment, admiring the sight as he’d done many times before. The tallest buildings of the city were dwarfed by the height of the ceiling – fifty meters, he’d been told – and the blinding brightness of the artificial sun bathed the silver-grey constructs in radiant light. He would regret leaving this behind. He shook his head to dispel the gloom, and looked back at his old mentor. “Are you coming, Doctor?” he asked hopefully.
The old man shook his head. “I got my own home to get back to, boy. See you tomorrow.” And before Russell could say anything, Dr. Lehrmann activated his ‘blinker’ and disappeared.
His father was quiet at dinner, not that this was something unusual. Jefferson Taylor had never been an outspoken man, and the death of his wife, Anna, had not improved matters. This day, though, there was a palpable air of disquiet about him. “I spoke with the Doctor today,” he revealed as the meal was drawing to a close. “He says you’ll go out tomorrow.”
Russell tried without much success to conceal his excitement at this revelation. “I’ll be fine, dad,” he said quickly. “It’s not-“
His father raised a hand for silence. “Son,” he said slowly, “you’re old enough to make your own decisions. If you want to go out there, that none of my business. But before you go, promise me something.” Jefferson Taylor drew himself up to his full height – seventy-nine millimeters, four millimeters more than his only son. “Promise me that when you’ve seen what you’ll see, you’ll come back to old fifty-two.
“Of course I’ll come back, dad,” Russell replied, a little confused by his father’s sudden melancholy. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Jefferson Taylor smiled. “Get some rest, Russ,” he said. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
As Russell Taylor ascended the spiraling staircase to his bedroom under the fading light of the artificial sun, he had no way of knowing how true those words would be.