Back into the first hallway and nothing; past the silver doors leading to the cryo units, the inhabitants of the cylinder-like tombs within sealed away never to awaken again, their pods having failed at one time or another during then- long sleep, causing irreparable brain damage to some, death to others.
From the trip taken mere moments before, J.B. knew that the seemingly daunting maze of rooms and hallways was actually laid out in a simple rectangle shape, and after passing the cryo lab a suite of empty hospital beds would be next on the agenda.
“Sure would be nice to grab some sleep in there, lover,” Krysty remarked to Ryan as she stifled a yawn and looked at him with her eyes at half-mast while passing the beds. “Can’t remember the last time I had a good night’s sleep. There’s a bed in there for each of us, and curtains for privacy. And they’re large enough to share.”
“I know. Too bad we can’t risk it,” Ryan replied. “I’m about to drop on my feet myself, but it’s only a matter of time before another pack of stickies comes across this place. Like I said back on the stairs, I’d just as soon get the hell out of this pesthole and be on my way before that happens.”
“Sometimes I wonder about the paths we’ve chosen,” she said tiredly. “But I guess it beats the alternative.”
“Anything beats the alternative.”
“Want me to reopen it, Dad?” Dean asked as the group converged on their final destination back at the mat-trans control room.
“Go ahead, Dean.”
The boy keyed in the universal code of three-five-two and the vanadium-steel door obediently slid upward, allowing them entry into the low-ceilinged room. Wider than tall, the control center for the mat-trans chamber remained as white as a Colorado snowfall. A crisscrossing of bold black lines gave the floor a neutral checkerboard pattern. A single desk also painted white held a comp unit, keyboard, mouse and wide-screen monitor station. It was the only furnishing in the room. A star-burst pattern ran across the nearly black screen.
The door, off to the far left, was made of painted wood with a simple bronze doorknob. They stepped through, feeling more secure now with the first vanadium steel door locked, and walked back into the hexagonal chamber.
This mat-trans chamber located beneath the hospital was the traditional shape, but a low ceiling tapered to a central point, and the taller members of the group had to duck crossing the center of the room. Groupings of mat-trans disks hung overhead, open to the world and close enough to reach up and touch. A smooth floor made of a clear substance held the series of lower mat-trans disks suspended and waiting, as if sealed in Lucite blocks.
Waiting until all were seated, Ryan closed the chamber door and quickly stepped across to take his place between Krysty and Dean. The gray gloominess of the walls increased as the mists from the top of the chamber began their descent, swirling in a mass of growing opaqueness that would soon obscure the room mere instants before unconsciousness would claim them all.
Once the mat-trans chamber was in full vibrant bloom, Ryan had to close his eye against the blinding light. For some unknown reason, this chamber was much brighter than the norm, with a piercing bank of white that slid past his eyelid and into the very core of his being. He ducked his head between his knees in an effort to shield his face from the brilliance of the white. The warmth of the light came from all sides, washing down from the ceiling and splashing up from the floor, caressing him in shimmering tones that seemed to be coming from inside, instead of outside his body.
The thickness of the fog increased and, when combined with the luminance of the chamber, made the haze much more apparent than usual.
Mildred snuck a peek before slamming her eyelids shut.
” ‘Purple haze, within my brain…acting funny, but I don’t know why,'” Mildred sang softly while strumming an air guitar.
“What’s with the movements?” J.B. whispered, his eyes squeezed tight to keep out the white light. His spectacles were tucked safely away inside one of the pockets of his leather jacket. “You keep poking me in the ribs with your elbow.”