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Posts: 703
Join Date: Oct 2008
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BIG BLUE awakenings Part 12 by Wayne Clayton.
Sam paced the room and looked at his watch. Since been down here he had begun to loose all track of time, day and night merged into one long sodium glow. But now as Sam worked on installing the apparatus time was beginning fly by. He hooked up the external monitors to the outside of the bomb housing. And for the first time the screen showed the distance slow heartbeat of Big Blue. In fact it showed more than just one heartbeat. The screen was full of mirror like traces, all keeping perfect time. Like a thousand atomic clocks ticking away.
But to Sam it was final proof that Big Blue was still alive in there.
He wheeled in the extraction pump he had requested and began to set the controls. There was no rushing the transfer of chemicals. The ratio of extraction must match that of the stabilising compounds. His laptop now sat on the monitor and connected both pumps into his pre-programmed timers. The stabilising gases themselves were in the process of been mixed. If they had been pumped into his system direct Sam was sure any normal human being would have been dissolved on the spot. But it was clear from the chemicals already at play they would have no adverse effects on Big Blue’s biology.
Finally he uncoupled the hoses which had once poured in the toxic soup which had enveloped Big Blue all those years ago. Carefully Sam arranged the clear plastic tubing which sprang from the machines either side of the bomb. The moment was nearly here. All that was left to do was to turn the release value and connect Big Blue once more to the world.
With a satisfying click the seal was broken and Sam heard the pressure hiss as the pumps began to draw out the poison. Now it was only a matter of time. In theory Sam knew the process should take weeks, In the case of the Mary Rose, her timbers had taken eight years to make safe against the elements in the air that would have caused her destruction. But due to the unearthly human nature of his patient Sam could only guess the duration of time that would have to pass.
Sam was left now only with the task of monitoring the process. And so drawing up a chair he began to read his new found library of golden age Johnny Reb.
Those were the days thought Sam, as he flicked though the pages. All that was needed in fiction to create a superman was some freak accident in the lab or a stray curse from beyond the realms of science. And what doctor or scientist would be foolish enough or mad enough to put them selves at risk for the sake of an impossible dream of super human powers, or clumsy enough to spill toxic chemicals all over themselves. And he doubted anyone would be stupid enough to volunteer to some military fly by night super soldier programme, like the internet conspiracy theorist were always ranting and raving about. No, those things only happened in the funny papers. This was the real world.
Maybe seeing a woman turn to water before his eyes should have started the alarm bells ringing for Sam but even now he failed to see any connection with what he was doing and the fantastic events contained within those yellowing pages he held in his hands. He was a great believer in logical explanations and witnessing the water droplets transformation under the microscope gave him a thread of possibility of scientific explanation, even if the process was beyond his current understanding.
But that was a million miles away from the existence of superheroes running around the city streets. Not even the shaky hand held footage of two guys in fancy dress slugging it out in Sun City’s worse ever thunderstorm on Channel 13 would have ever convince Sam of that, nor rumours of the shadowy figures seen on the roof tops of St. Katherine’s Bay.
Perhaps the hours he had spent working on the instruments were finally taking their toll on Sam, or maybe the sound of the echoing heartbeats were slowly lulling him into a twilight slumber. But soon he was dead to the world and dreaming of heroes and villains and impossible things.
Two hours and thirty seconds later Sam was wide awake, the monitor was going wild. The once steady notes of the machine were now a riot of white noise. The screen was flashing up thousands of traces each one racing together in one giant wave across its face.
The lights in the room began to strobe in unison as Sam sort to grasp hold of the situation.
Sam leaped from his chair to check the instruments. Just as he reached them the blaring static was joined by the sound of someone crying out in terror. Sam turned towards the direction of the screams, his own heart racing in blind panic.
Through the glass panel he saw a distorted face yelling wildly, then all Sam Orton’s world when black as the riveted cover plate exploded towards him in slow motion under the dizzying flashing lights, catching him full in the face, sending him flying back against the wall.
Sam coughed and spluttered as he lay against the cold concrete. He tried to reach up towards the glass covered button which would end all his suffering but it was no use. Sam felt himself drift off into oblivion, helpless against the on coming cloud of darkness. Only the flashes of lightening lit up the blackness and with it the shadow of a man stood before Sam before even that faded into the inky abyss.
The End for now at least.
COMING SOON ….
.JOHNNY REB and the Maverick Men in ‘THE CLOCKWORK ATOLL’
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