4522 {The Number Series}

50

Jericho was swift, leaving me behind with Archer attempting to watch over all three of us. After all of her training she consisted of nothing but muscle. Her strength and endurance was well surpassed mine and it was showing. Many of those behind the barrier covered us as they fired shots at the Officer's. Jericho made it first to the double glass doors to the Hall of Knowledge. Without a glance she went inside and turned to her right, disappearing behind a white wall. 

Archer and I were only a few seconds behind but she was long gone into the building. 

We ripped open the doors into temporary safety. Our boots clicked on the soothed concrete floor as we too the opposite turn from Jericho. Harsh lighting hung high above our heads, lighting our way as we rushed along. I had never worked in the Hall of Knowledge but I had robbed them previously of files that they had tried to hide and had thought Harold had died behind the building. I vaguely remembered the blueprints from previous studying. I knew where the Officer's were possibly guarding and where the staff could have been hiding out to avoid being injured; if any staff had actually come to work that morning. I had no way of knowing. 

There was no possible preparation to know what to expect when trying to take control of the building. 

The occasional door appeared along the sterile white walls. We stopped at the first one. Archer gripped his gun tightly in his hand before nodding in the direction of my knife. I gripped it and held it up, ready for anything. With the turn of the knob Archer flung open the door. I did not know who or what would be there. 

Rushing in, gun pointed high, Archer went into the room. 

While it did not contain nothing, it did contain file cabinets. In the center of the room a single table sat for sorting paperwork. A scan of the room revealed what the files held. It was medical records of Generation One. I guessed that the contents had not needed review in a long time; but, I did not just make this assumption based on the age of the papers but also by noticing the thick layer of dust covering the surfaces of the table and cabinets. 

"Look at all of this," Archer said as his hazel eyes darted across the labels of numbers.

"I know," I said. It was both wonder and horror we felt as we took in the scene. "At least when we destroy the computers the records will still be here."

He stood silently. His arms had gone slack, letting the gun rest against his thigh.

"What is it?" I asked. Archer's eyes almost appeared glazed. "Shouldn't we be securing the rest of the building?"

"Doesn't it seem strange, now that we have names instead of numbers, to look at the fact that our number had been recycled every one hundred years? We shared it with someone we were never able to meet or to learn about?" His arm continued to bleed as he spoke, though much less as he held his hand to the wound after holstering his gun. There was no present danger allowing him to try to help his self. 

I looked at the labels of Generation One. They had been the first of our society and the beginning of all that I knew. It was a strange thing to consider, now that I had no choice but to think about it. It seemed even more unnerving to know that the top ten had created the system willingly and those around them had followed. I wondered what life had been like to make them what to have such a strict way of living; I never wanted it to become like what we currently lived in or what the top ten had come from. 

"It is." I agreed with him. "But it won't be who we are anymore. Soon it will be behind us."

A high pitch noise  came over the intercom within  the building were being as if it were being interfered with. I covered my ears as it filled the room. The sound was as awful to hear as nails scrapping on a chalk board. A familiar voice came over the speaker in a panic, a voice I had never heard sound scared.