Spilling Guts

Part 98 - Cold Storage

Rachel swiped her keycard at the transparent door to cold storage. It opened with a beep and a hiss.

Louis, holding a folding step-ladder, followed Rachel into the first chamber of white and steel; row after row of shelves containing plastic bins and occasional cardboard box. He'd been in cold storage once for orientation and then a second time to see the Devil's Neckbrace interred onto its shelf. He'd had no reason to come back since then.

Rachel led him back towards the next chamber. The lights in cold storage had a green cast to them, a shade lighter than mint. Cameras gleamed from every corner. No blind spots. Items in cold storage were there for a reason. Projects put "on ice" due to budget cuts, or someone realizing halfway into building something that just because they had the ability to make the thing, didn't mean they should make the thing, and having a case of the "ethics".

Also it was handy to know if someone was stuck in cold storage so they could be let out, and then interrogated for their stupidity.

At one point someone had tried to call the cold storage chambers "The Freezer". It had never stuck. Gussie it up all you like, cold storage was just "cold storage" unless it was "room temperature" storage; only half of the containment chambers were set for a temperature below seventy degrees Fahrenheit. And only a third of them set below freezing.

Some inventions had an organic element that needed a controlled temperature for preservation's sake. Others simply were so unwieldy that the Watch would rather have it stored in pieces, out of sight, out of mind.

And the rare few, in the furthest reaches of storage that needed and extra key card, a retina scan, voice recognition, and thick gloves to protect from frost bite, were the ones deemed too dangerous to thaw, but too expensive to outright destroy. Also, because Nate and Franklin had dared to do it, a pint of flash-frozen butterscotch ice cream dots lay on a shelf in the very back of cold storage, behind two inches of bullet-proof glass and a lock.

If Watch Two had been able to keep it, Louis was sure that Retten's monstrous "shrink ray" device would have ended up in the same place.

"Doctor Hayman had a lot of questions about your report," said Rachel as she slowly walked back into the aisles of shelves. She treated the retrieval like a stroll.

Louis had wondered when she would break the ice. "Really?"

"Yeah. He wants to meet up with you and talk about possible treatments for other victims."

"Hm." He'd never get his inbox done at this rate.

"What's with that face?" Rachel turned a corner to a colder stretch of shelves. "You wrote a report for Watch Two for a reason. People are going to read it."

"So Will could get help and stop snapping at me. I didn't expect the whole of Watch Two to get in on it so fast." Louis huffed as the temperature dropped again. They had entered the "cold" part of cold storage, where one more degree would make breath visible. Every other shelf had a packet strapped to their sides containing metallic emergency blankets; the product of an over-paranoid Watch agent that hated the cold.

"We got motivated," said Rachel as she stopped in front of a shelving unit, mouthing a set of numbers, and then looked up. "It helps that we have a lot of the pieces in front of us to paint a picture."

Fans whirred, stripping moisture out of the air. The plastic container for the Devil's Neckbrace rested on the top shelf like an expired takeout dinner ready to spread salmonella. It's assigned case number was labeled on the shelf and the plastic container. The two spaces on either side were empty; hopeful anticipation that Watch Two would find the missing Devil's Neckbraces.

Louis would rather all three be destroyed. Grovic's idea of creating a device to cut off pain and the need for chemical anesthesia had failed. Throw it in the scrap pile. Megan and Teegan would agree with him. They'd had to interview victims too.

Louis set up the step ladder. "So, what did you need to talk to me about? I appreciate the break from desk work, but you're strong enough to haul this thing yourself."

Rachel wiggled the ladder for good measure, and then climbed it, rising with her fogged breath. "Watch One isn't interested in getting you back to normal."

"I kinda figured that." Watch One, and especially Harrison considered him a guinea pig. The attempted triggering of Louis in a BT chamber with his former partner Justin had made that clear. Bastards.

"Neither does Watch Mission Control." Rachel slid the plastic container off the shelf and into Louis' waiting arms.

Louis sighed, shifting the cold plastic into a sturdy grip. "Not surprising."

Rachel hopped off the ladder and folded it with a metallic clang. "They want to see you actively working in the field. Tiny."

Rachel had picked up the ladder and reached the pathway between the shelves by the time Louis fully registered what she had said.

"Wait... what?" Louis followed after her. The absurdity of doing a mission while the size of a stick of gun had yet to overcome the excitement of going back into the field. Freedom from patent paperwork. "Really?"

"So I've heard," said Rachel. "But I don't like the idea. And Cetz won't allow it until you get your inbox cleared out."

"Can you tell him to lay off the files until I catch up?"

"No. You're on your own."