The Underground Part 7

"Good luck, son. You'll need it," Simon said before heading down a corridor.

"Thank you," Nathaniel managed, but Simon didn't turn back. Nathaniel hoped that appearing polite and appreciative might help him get off on the right foot as the next set of chaperones watched closely. While his expectations were low, he hoped they were friendlier than Simon. They simply had to be.

He was led down a long corridor lined with metal doors, each having a keypad on the wall to the left. His escort stopped in front of one, punched in a code and the door unlocked.

"Wait here," he was told, and knew better than to question authority.

As the door locked behind him, Nathaniel was relieved to be alone, but his nerves were frazzled. There were two chairs around a small table. A single bulb dangled from above. The light rattled on and off, threatening complete darkness at any moment. There was a stainless steel prison-issue toilet in the corner, and nothing else inside the grey cinder-block room. Not a picture on the wall to focus his thoughts or a pad of paper, pencil, book, pamphlet or magazine. He sat on one of the two folding chairs and put his head down on the small cold metal table for what seemed like forever.

When the door finally opened, Nathaniel sat up quickly and a small man with closely cropped black hair and a well-sculpted goatee walked in. A black uniform, that everyone seemed to wear, covered his pet.i.te 5-foot frame. A tiny pink triangle dangled from his left ear lobe, a distinctive decoration compared to the others.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm Crosby. Welcome to the Underground," he said followed by a sparkly smile as he held his hand out. Crosby's gesture was one of a friendly salesman, greatly contrasting Simon's curtness.

Crosby spoke quickly, not allowing Nathaniel a word. "Now, I know you probably have a lot of questions, and I'll try to answer as many of them as I can. First things first. Look over this family history to make sure it's one hundred percent accurate. Then, we'll move on," he said smiling as he handed Nathaniel a thick printout, clipped to a board with a dangling pen attached. "Oh, and I'm guessing you're a little hungry, so here's something to tide you over," Crosby said. He put a tightly saran wrapped submarine sandwich and a big bottle of water on the table.

Nathaniel warily took the sandwich, ripping it open and greedily took a bite. Would they poison him if they didn't like how he'd behaved so far? He hoped not, but was too hungry to let that stop him.

"I'll be back soon," Crosby said as he closed the door behind him.

"Thanks!" Nathaniel said, before devouring the large sandwich. He had hoped for meat, but there was only tofu and vegetables inside. Still, food was food and he was starving and thirsty.

He picked up the booklet Crosby left. It was filled with such precise information about Nathaniel's life that it was downright creepy. Not only did it list his birthplace and family tree, but there were also details about his childhood that weren't so easy to dig up. They mentioned that he had a scar on his left ankle and noted it happened after he fell off his bike at age ten. How did they know? They had a copy of his first place certificate for an engineering contest, from high school, where he had to fix a broken engine in a fixed time period. Winning that opened the door to his job at the Cambridge Public Works.

There were addresses, health records, and work records. It also had a chronology of the few women he dated, including an in-depth description of his unpleasant relationship with Janice. It was as though someone had gathered Nathaniel up and summarized him in 40 sterile pages. Now he was supposed to sign off on the accuracy. It felt strange to read. Someone had done his homework, presumably with a lot of help from Brigg. Not a word about Shayla was mentioned, and he felt keenly satisfied keeping this secret. He feared for her safety. While she was the Queen's daughter, she had taken pride doing without a full-time security detail, and these guys didn't appear to be the law-abiding types. If they knew about the two of them... he didn't want to think about what could happen.

He read the full summary a second time, since there was nothing else to do. Occasionally, he heard steps echo quietly on the concrete corridor outside his door. He hoped to hear them halt and enter, but it was quite sometime before that happened.

"Was all the info okay?" Crosby asked as soon as he walked in, flashing a quick smile.

Nathaniel nodded.

"Can I ask some questions?" Nathaniel asked, hopefully.

"Not yet, but soon. I promise. I'll be back. Sit tight," he said with a sing song excitement before disappearing as quickly as he had entered.

Nathaniel's patience waned, but he knew that lashing out was useless. He was far outside his own territory, and alienating anyone was unwise. Besides, Crosby seemed nice.

True to his promise, Crosby reappeared a few minutes later. After locking the door, he sat down, crossing his legs in an exaggerated effeminate way.

"I'm here to orient you to the Underground. After I'm done, I'll do my best to answer any questions you have," he said in a friendly tone. "The Underground was started 25 years ago by a great man who decided it was time for men to regain equality. He believed mandatory castration must stop and he provided the seed money for The Underground. If you are wondering how this all works, we induct men into our system and retrain them to be very attractive to women in all ways. We then strategically place men, called Grounders, around the country. As the powerful women in our nation select Grounders for marriage, we infiltrate the country's power-system to meet our goal. We are already making headway with our network of Grounders married to high-powered women."

"So how do you know I'll be snapped up so quickly?" Nathaniel asked, his mind flooded with questions. From where he sat, no man had gained anything. Castration was as rampant as ever.

"As I said, you will be trained. You will, in fact, remain here until you have all the qualities that our Master Instructors believe are necessary. Believe me, they know what they're doing. There is a lot of market research behind what we do. Lucky for you, your sole purpose during your stay is to improve yourself, and to learn about women. It's a marvelous, educational experience," Crosby said enthusiastically, as though Nathaniel was going on an all expense paid trip to Paris.

"How long will this take?" Nathaniel asked, already dying to get out of there.

"It may not take that long for you because most likely you won't need plastic surgery, since you're so good looking," he casually said, squinting his eyes as though sizing him up.

"Plastic surgery? I should hope not!" Nathaniel balked, feeling sick at the way Crosby glibly spoke about this. Heck, he didn't even like the idea of the stupid Botox that Janice was going to make him get before they got married.

"It's not a huge deal. It's done all the time," Crosby said, gesturing as though it was nothing.

"It would be a big deal to me."

"It's not for you to decide, or me for that matter. All I can do is tell you I wouldn't worry. If the powers that be think you can look better at the hands of our surgeons, then you shall have surgery. That's just the way it is, but think about it. It's certainly better than the other kind of surgery, don't you think?" Crosby said.

"Well..."

"Well, what?" Crosby asked, with an innocence that seemed genuine. "Look on the bright side. You have a lot going for you. Your history says you're a quick study. Your records are impeccable and after dealing so well with that Janice woman, I think you'll take very well to what we have to offer. It's a spectacular opportunity!" Crosby said with an excitement that Nathaniel thought quite odd, considering he felt imprisoned.

Crosby quickly flipped through some pages of a doc.u.ment that he held close, as he put on a pair of wire-framed reading gla.s.ses. "Ah yes. You are in here, essentially, for some advanced training and a roll-back," he said turning his attention back to Nathaniel. Nathaniel wondered what else was in Crosby's private notepad.

"What the h.e.l.l's a 'roll-back' and what kind of training?"

"A roll-back is when we transplant someone back into society with a new birth date that makes him younger to allow a little bit more time to find a woman after the training. We also, of course, give him a new ident.i.ty and release him into a different part of the country. It's actually quite exciting," Crosby said, his grey eyes growing bright. "We've seen great success. You're 25, so we'll probably release you as 21. You won't have a problem drawing in the women. No siree," he said raising his eyebrows to show Nathaniel what he thought. "You'll be a fine catch for some lucky lady. I'd like to catch you myself, but I'm not your cup of tea, am I?" he said with a laugh, not waiting for an answer.

"For now, you are in training. Our day begins at 6 a.m. with group lectures and group cla.s.ses. There is also one-on-one instruction. Afternoons are for physical exercises, which most people find refreshing after being sedentary so much of the day. Although," he said pausing for a moment, "come to think about it, not all our cla.s.ses are sedentary," he said laughing to himself.

"Also, quite obviously, we don't get government subsidies, so everyone needs to help maintain our facility. Evenings are reserved for homework. After that, you'll be tuckered out. Mark my words."

"What kind of cla.s.ses?"

"From our profile, you need help in Social Confidence and Manners, Basic Romance, Work Enhancement, and s.e.x-Skills. Okey dokey? All set then," Crosby said, standing up to leave.

"Are you kidding me? I have a thousand questions! First of all, what the h.e.l.l am I doing here?"

"You have a friend or two who thought this was better for you, as far as where your life was headed," Crosby said. Nathaniel knew that Brigg was part of this, but who else could there be?

"How long will I be here, and for G.o.d's sake who decided I need to take s.e.x cla.s.ses? And where the h.e.l.l are we? I mean, am I in Nevada? It just all feels so weird," Nathaniel said before Crosby waved his hands in an attempt to silence him.

"Nathaniel, my good man! Don't worry so much. I can't tell you, technically, our location, but you are Underground. You seem like a bright, energetic young man. If I had to guess, you will be here six months or so. But don't hold me to that. You won't leave until you are ready and I don't know where you'll go, but it won't be back to Cambridge, Ma.s.sachusetts. That's for sure, but you'll be happier elsewhere. Take advantage of our cla.s.ses. We teach you to think like a woman. It's a truly enlightening program! And, the s.e.x cla.s.ses?" he said with a laugh. "Don't worry. Everyone takes at least one s.e.x cla.s.s. That won't start tomorrow, so don't be nervous. It's extremely educational and the lab for that cla.s.s is a one-on-one with one of our beautiful s.e.xperts. I'm sure you'll love it. Anything else?"

Nathaniel sat in silence, not knowing what to say. Crosby seemed so happy and worry-free, quite the opposite of how Nathaniel felt. Thoughts of Shayla bled into every moment and he wondered if she would look for him.

"Come, I'll show you around," Crosby said, leading Nathaniel. "This used to be an old military facility a long time ago. We purchased it through one of our dummy corporations. It's not fancy, but it fulfills our needs.

Crosby whisked him into the locked room that would be Nathaniel's private home during his stay. It was tiny, with a single bed. A freestanding chrome sink stood behind a curtain, next to a puny toilet. "Showers are near the Gym, so you can shower after your workouts."

"Can I ask why the doors are locked all the time?" Nathaniel asked with as much care as possible. He certainly felt safer questioning Crosby, compared with Simon.

"We keep things locked for everyone's safety. If you need something, press the little red b.u.t.ton here and someone will come to you in a jiffy. So, it's really not that bad," Crosby said, like a real estate agent showing the finer points of a property.

"Now, let's move along," he said. Nathaniel's cell was located near a small library. Books to read! Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here after all. It was like a dream to Nathaniel to have the time and peace to browse through stacks of books and read. He hoped to capitalize on it as long as he would be here. This was the first place where Nathaniel saw people other than the black-clad Underground staff. A handful of men sat at long tables, studying intently. He longed to ask them about their journeys, see how they liked it in here. While people looked up to see him, n.o.body made eye contact, and that made Nathaniel apprehensive. There was a seriousness in the air. Nathaniel felt the burning eyes of the silent guard who stood at the library's entrance.

"May I take a look around?" Nathaniel cautiously whispered to Crosby.

"Sure, for a moment or two. We've got to get on soon. A splendid lunch awaits us, and I'm famished."

Nathaniel walked through the aisles checking t.i.tles waiting for one to grab him. There were books on romance, women's s.e.xuality, women's psychology, women's anatomy, and it seemed to go on in that vein.

"Any good novels in this place?" Nathaniel asked hopefully.

"Well, there is a small section of novels, in line with our purpose, but I'm afraid there aren't too many. You see, this library isn't to entertain. The books in this library focus on helping you understand women. "It's also a lovely place to study, as you can see," he whispered. "Come on, let's go eat!" he said, flashing his quick smile.

As they approached the dining line, it made Nathaniel think of his junior high school cafeteria. They each picked up a tray. Nathaniel followed Crosby. As Crosby went through the line, everyone gave him a big h.e.l.lo. They asked how much he wanted. When Nathaniel walked through, he just got the stock amount of whatever they served. A plop of the glop, like an a.s.sembly line plant.

"What are we eating?" Nathaniel asked when they sat down. Some of the foods were unfamiliar. He was still gobbling everything with hungry abandon.

"We have a vegetarian, low-fat, low-sodium diet. All the meals are balanced. Desserts are a no-no. Well, that's not entirely true. Sometimes there is a fruit sorbet. Let's see, today we have a miso soup, which is an option almost every meal. Very healthy. Then, there's a low-fat tofu stir-fry, with veggies. We usually have spelt rolls with soy b.u.t.ter," he said pointing to a whitish watery looking spread that somewhat resembled mayonnaise. "The cooks here are really quite talented, indeed!" Crosby said taking a bite of tofu. "Mmm, mmm good!"

Nathaniel laughed. It was the first smile he felt since he arrived. He couldn't help but like Crosby who seemed to appreciate the bright side of every cranny in this dark hole.

"May I ask who is in charge of the Underground?"

"A very wise man," he said not missing a beat as he chomped on some ground tofu and vegetables. "This is really delicious," Crosby said, pointing to a beige mountain of food that Nathaniel couldn't identify. He had the pa.s.sion of a restaurant critic eating at a five-star Michelin restaurant.

Nathaniel knew that the explanations were over. He finished his meal and followed Crosby back to his quarters. He was too tired to ask anything else.

"Home sweet home!" Crosby said when he got into Nathaniel's room. Some night-time reading and a good night's sleep await you," he said, motioning to the bed that had a neat stack of linens, sitting alongside an electronic tablet.

"Turn on the electronic tablet and read the doc.u.ment that comes up. After that, get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day for you! Now I've got to go and tend to some other things."

"What am I doing tomorrow?"

"It's your first day of school. You'll need all your energy. Our cla.s.ses are fast-paced," Crosby said, snapping his fingers like firecrackers.

"What am I studying first?"

"All good stuff. In the meantime, if you need something, just click the red b.u.t.ton. Ta ta!" The cheeriness left the room with Crosby, and Nathaniel was uncomfortably lonely. He glanced at the single clock that hung high on the wall. It was 5:30 in the afternoon, just about the time Shayla was beginning to wind down her day.

Chapter 13.

"Ready to reconvene the meeting?" Gerald asked the Queen as soon as she got off the phone.

"Give me five minutes," the Queen answered.

"Is something the matter, your majesty?" Gerald asked, and the Queen knew her voice gave her away, at least to Gerald. After a quarter century of service, he knew her better than anyone else.

"Anything I can do?" Gerald asked, raising his eyebrows in concern.

"Actually, there is," she said.

He walked inside her office and closed the door.

"It's Shayla. It seems she is a bit down about a man who she says is a friend. He is missing. I told her I'd try to find him. Would you make sure that the head of security gets right on this? No one is to know of this, understood?"

"Perfectly."

"I want her to work on it directly, the Queen said as she copied the name Nathaniel DeLuca and handed it to Gerald. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the name, and the Queen figured Gerald had some thought, but was glad he kept it to himself. The Queen had bit her own tongue when wanting to lecture Shayla about how it was utterly impossible to truly be "friends" with a man a unless the man was a Spot. Otherwise, they really couldn't be trusted, but the Queen knew that saying this, or anything close to it, would earn a tongue lashing from Shayla.

"Do you think he was picked up by the Tasers for some reason and sent to the C Center...?" Gerald started to ask.

"I'm not sure..." she said, glancing away from Gerald's warm hazel eyes down to a piece of paper. She found it hard to look Gerald in the eye when talking about castration. She knew the castration system was important for the country's well-being, but wondered why he, in particular, never drew in a mate. It was something they never discussed. She reminded herself that he had a wonderful job, career and life since coming out of the C Center, straight into the Palace where he worked his way up and now lived a rather privileged life in the grandeur that most people only dreamed about.

"Well, I'll get right on it and get back to you just the moment that I hear anything," he said matter-of-factly. A trademark nod of his head and he left her office, quietly closing the door behind him.

The Queen looked out the window into the Square. The Tasers were beating a man. She sighed, feeling sorry for the man, but it was proven that this was the only way they learned. He had certainly, unfortunately, done something to deserve it. Still, it was a shame. She turned away and returned to reading her briefing since the meeting would resume shortly. The man's faint cries seeped up the twenty stories and through the screened window, accompanied by a light breeze that felt refreshing. She turned on her favorite Vivaldi concerto, The Four Seasons, loud enough to drown out that distracting annoyance.

Even so, she couldn't focus on the briefing. There was something about her conversation with Shayla that disturbed her.

"He's very dear to me. Please, can you help?"

Those words echoed in her head, and she vowed to find out about this man who had softened her daughter's heart.

As Shayla hung up the phone, she cried harder, knowing that Nathaniel really was missing.

She looked at her heart-broken eyes in the mirror. Her mother considered crying weak. "Big girls do not cry." That's what her mother said when Shayla was little, no matter the reason.

Her father would hug Shayla. "It's okay, let it all out," he would whisper, as long as the Queen wasn't around.

Shayla regained her composure and called the office.

"I'm going to Washington for business," she said to the Cambridge Public Works facilities coordinator, with the authoritative voice she inherited from her mother. As much as Shayla hated being on the receiving end of this tone, she was grateful to have that voice in her toolkit to mask any lack of confidence.

"Did I miss a meeting on the schedule?" the office manager nervously asked.

"It just came up. I'll let you know as soon as I have my return date. d.a.m.n, just a second, somebody is calling in. Actually, I'm going to take it," she said, grateful for the interrupting call so she could avoid further questions. Maybe it was Nathaniel. She hoped for this with each phone call.

She clicked the phone and looked at the number. A rumble of anger and nervousness went through her body. Janice sure was a piece of work. The first drunken rambling phone call had been pretty nervy. "I know you have him. Where is he?" she had slurred.

That's what I'd like to know myself, Shayla thought, as she hurriedly got off the phone last time.

Shayla pressed the Ignore b.u.t.ton on her phone, knowing that she needed to take care of that. It might be time to enlist the help of her mother's head of security since Janice was becoming a nuisance. But the thought of bringing her mother into this would open up a rat's nest. Shayla didn't feel like explaining her circ.u.mstances to her mother, not yet anyway.

"I have strict orders to bring you to your mother as soon as you arrive," Gerald said as he greeted Shayla, giving her a fatherly hug, just as his cell phone rang.