Fiction, The Tube 
No Comments The Tube – Part Fifteen
This instalment of The Tube brings to a close Volume One of the serial with a resolution. Tomorrow, Shane begins his new life in the strange city they call The Tube.
THE TUBE
Concept by Michael Winters and Shane W Smith
Written by Shane W Smith
Shane had no idea how long he stood there after the large man left; it almost seemed as if he blinked, and the sun outside – insofar as he could make it out through the perpetual grey pall of cloud that hung low over this city – had moved twenty degrees across the sky. It would be dark soon, and he would have to make a decision.
It seemed absurd that given his situation, he would be hungry. Nonetheless, he found himself unable to concentrate until he had scrambled a couple of eggs and consumed them. He ate very deliberately, trying to will himself out of his insane situation by virtue of simply not thinking about it.
The truth, more horrible than he could have imagined, had bereft him of energy; he felt drained and shriveled, a shell of the man he remembered once being. Plagued by uncertainty, he replayed the revelations again and again, trying to make sense of them.
He couldn’t recall signing any contract. He didn’t even remember entering into any kind of arrangement with OmniTech beyond the blood sample. But it was his signature, no question about that. He couldn’t imagine a circumstance in which he would volunteer to live without even a memory of his family, knowing full well at the time of volunteering that they were still alive and hoping for him to return home… but he had apparently made this arrangement, so such a circumstance must have arisen.
Even if he couldn’t remember it.
If you resist, you will lose subjects from outside the target zone…
When thinking about it, he became aware that there were gaps in his memory: he could recall only brief vignettes of the last few months, ever since the GenTech liquidation; he could no longer recall his fifth birthday party; nor the second half of his final year in high school; nor what his first car had looked like. Who knew what he might lose next?
His visitor had been right: the Motivator was going to destroy his mind if he resisted.
He considered resting on the sofa again, but dismissed the idea. He was reasonably confident that the Motivator’s influence extended throughout the apartment, and that they had just given him a night off last night to consider their options. He held down his fear when he regarded the bed, but he knew it was no better or worse than any other locale he had access to, and it was probably the most physically comfortable.
He looked around the apartment. Of Katherine, there was no trace beyond what resided in his mind. He had no possessions that reminded him of her. The clothes he was wearing, he had never seen before; no chance of even the slightest scent of her being hidden in the material. She was certainly nowhere nearby, so the odds of a chance encounter were nil.
If he submitted to the machine, she would be gone from his life.
He took her in his arms, and stroked her hair. Breathing in the scent of her, feeling her heart beating against his…
“I can’t give this up,” he said. “Without you and Anne, I couldn’t live.”
He couldn’t lose them. No pain, no other loss, could approach such a tragedy in terms of magnitude. Resolute and firm in his choice, he knew that he had to protect them, protect their memories, no matter what the cost. Even if he lost his mind entirely, he would pay the price without a qualm.
A life without them would be no life at all.
He leaned his forehead against the cold, thick glass and stared out across the strange cityscape they called The Tube, wondering if she held him in her heart the same way he held her.
Wondering how long he would have to hold out until his opportunity came, and what would be left of him then.
Wondering when he would see his sun again.
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