You, Me, We Are All Mistakes

11. A TECHNOLOGY MAFIA

CHAPTER 11
A TECHNOLOGY MAFIA

An eighteen-wheeler truck weighs over eighty thousand pounds. This one was now deep underground.

"Grow up and pull yourself together Nelson," offered Tina as she stood beside him at the giant trailer's edge. With one hand on its flat-bed side she bent her knees and nipped athletically down into the tunnel floor, landing neatly on the tips of her court shoes.

She stared back up at Nelson and felt the need to proffer him her hand in assistance.

"Allow me ma'am," said the Air Force man, reaching his own hand towards Nelson. "He'll be fine in a moment."

Nursing a tight Achilles heel, Nelson shrugged him away and made a difficult job of climbing awkwardly down from the trailer via scuffed knees, his belly resting on its metal surface, and hobbling onto stiff feet.

"I see they removed their own ties," voiced the air man gruffly to one of their dark clothed captors, who had needlessly stepped forward with a utility knife to slice through their restraining ropes. The air man flicked him away with a curt gesture.

"Let's just learn from this. Cable ties next time. Now, will you two follow me please."

Recomposing himself, Nelson picked his head up and took in the surroundings. The long white tunnel stretched behind, curving gently such that any entrance was obscured. The same gleaming tunnel continued in front and curved to a similar degree, meaning no exit was visible. The neon lights above buzzed perceptibly to provide a clinical and uncomfortable pallor to the setting. Highly precise wall tiling and grouting delivered the only detail within this pristine arc.

"What is this?" asked Nelson, "some kind of..."

"All will become clear," interrupted the American. "I am Chief Master Sergeant W. J. McGuigan of the Progressionary Unit, US Air Force. I'm seconded here from SETI as a Senior NCO to assist in The Quit."

"Thanks, that's much clearer now," sneered Nelson.

"But you can call me Whip."

"Must we?"

Nelson's disdain held firm. He looked across to Tina. She was quieter and calmer and avoided his eye contact, while assessing her surroundings. He sensed the tables had turned and she was now dealing with this situation far better than him. She also appeared to be just putting up with him, and it was a feeling he did not enjoy. He longed for the mutual understanding of his best friend Duke Kramer.

Duke was also an only child and it was their common bond. His mother had abandoned the family home on Duke's second birthday, leaving him to be raised by his father Ernest Kramer as a single parent. Nelson speculated this experience may have assigned Duke his short temper born from underlying anger. This was mixed with a very wry sense of humour. Nelson's similar lack of sibling challenges had made him unsure in new company and brought him a gullible tendency.

All this had led to Nelson's naïve hopes of NASA organising private jet extraction for him, guided tours of the new Space Shuttle, and quite possibly his hushed name on everyone's lips. Even a complimentary NASA T-shirt and baseball cap had not escaped his imaginings. In the last twenty-four hours Nelson realized he had allowed himself delusional flights of fancy in which he called all the shots. These were flights detached from the reality of any outward threat and had been steeped in the embracing warmth of NASA's safe hands.

He did not feel safe now.

"Where the hell are we?" he chided.

"Yorkshire," replied W.J. McGuigan.