Once the platform left the crowd of Dwellers behind and ascended into a dark shaft, the Councilman turned to Ilyas and Benjamin with a look full of questions.
A Guardian already powered the lighting system for the ascending platform, so Ilyas didn't have to be concerned about the dark in his 'final moments'.
"I don't mean to be insolent in these uncertain moments, but... but may I..." The Councilman's voice trailed off as he probed for their reactions.
Ilyas nodded and said, "Go ahead."
Benjamin nodded too, although...
'Of course. He's still staring at me, isn't he?'
The Councilman cleared his throat and said, "Are you two sure your decisions were wise? You do know what the surface will do to you, right? I'd feel horrible if you were condemned to such agony because you weren't thoroughly informed."
Ilyas shrugged. "Oh, I am aware. But I also hear that you guys provide us with masks and rations of our choice. Is that true?"
The Councilman shook his head. "You'll get a feast and a day to yourself for peaceful meditation and luxury if you choose the Garden. It's a heavenly place, I assure you. For the masks you mentioned, I'm not sure I'm allowed to say this, but they're barely adequate for the surface. They would work for viruses or contaminated spaces, but up there, it would only buy you an extra few hours. And those few hours will only prolong the unpleasant feeling of your innards being devastated."
Benjamin finally spoke, which startled both Ilyas and the Councilman. "This young man is strangely confident in his decision, Mr. Councilman. He is plotting something, I am sure. Though I do not know what it is, I want to be there... I am a dead man anyway, so why not quench my curiosity..." He lost his voice mid-sentence and continued mumbling some nonsense.
'Oh no. What did he say? No, man, I am not! Oh dear... I can't tell him that now. That'd be awkward! But I have to'
Ilyas sighed and then opened his mouth to say something, but decided otherwise. Instead, he said, "Hm. Well, that is unfortunate." He kept quiet for a few seconds, then turned to the Councilman and asked, "Say? You're in the council, right? So you know I would've been sitting in an interview at the moment instead of... Anyway, would I have attained a chamber in Level Four?"
The Councilman was taken aback by the question, then he smiled a little and said, "Young man, are you sure that is a question you want to ask in your current situation?"
Ilyas would've agreed, but he was too terrified to think of anything else. He was too cold and too alone. The question he asked was to at least create a buffer in his mind from all his other thoughts. A question that would allow him to create a comforting branching timeline that he could focus on, lest he pass out, acknowledging reality.
So he simply stared at the Councilman and nodded very subtly. But his eyes were a bit glassy now, desperate for an answer. Desperate and pleading.
The Councilman might have noticed them since his expression softened, and he pursed his lips to contain himself. His voice took a more gentle tone when he said, "Ilyas, if you couldn't get a chamber in Level Four, then I doubt anyone else could."
Ilyas looked down at his feet, made an effort to compose himself, and took a deep, shuddering breath.
"I see. That's nice."
***
A few minutes passed in silence before they finally reached Level One. Ilyas was making an effort to keep his thoughts in order and suppress his emotions. The Councilman seemed to be a bit disturbed, perhaps because no one as young and accomplished as Ilyas had ever been condemned before.
'I'm not a fan of his theatrics and cultish behaviour, but it'd be nice of him to feel that way.'
Benjamin finally unhooked his eyes from Ilyas, maybe second-guessing his decision. Meanwhile, the old man was... sleeping?
'Huh? How is that possible? Can someone sleep standing up?'
Ilyas belatedly realised that if the old man didn't make an effort to keep his eyes wide open, then his saggy upper eyelid would cover his eyes, creating the illusion that he was asleep.
They left the platform and entered a cavernous chamber. In fact, it was so vast that Ilyas, craning his head up, couldn't see the ceiling. A catwalk extended from the platform above a dark abyss, all the way to a much more reinforced hatch from the ones below.
'Oh no. '
Ilyas, nauseated, forced himself to swallow back bile. He never knew to fear heights, because this was the first time he had the privilege of being in a situation where he had to confront them.
They marched on the catwalk and reached the hatch. Two Guardians tended to it and unlocked it. Beyond it was something Ilyas never thought he'd see in his life.
'What is that?'
No Aluminium?
Actually, there was, but not as absolute as it was below. Here, the floors were beige marble. There were wooden railings adorned with intricate designs, and the ceiling was a dark, indiscernible stretch. Instead of blue or white light drowning the place in boring brightness, lanterns were slung on the walls, making yellow light scarce and enchanting. A strange, comforting aesthetic was created.
They marched down the alien yet captivating hallway, with Ilyas looking around in astonishment, Benjamin barely sparing it any interest, still finding Ilyas the most captivating thing in the room, and the old man being guided by one of the guards.
They eventually reached the end of the hallway, where two doors-
'Doors?! There are doors?!'
Ilyas had only ever seen doors in The Wasteland Crusader and assumed they were obsolete. Impractical creations of a bygone era. How would two large, beautiful, solemn mahogany doors protect someone from a toxic leak? Or that vile atmosphere?!
'Tsk tsk tsk. These people are careless! They have no regard for their lives. I knew never to want to ascend here! Pity they're losing such a shrewd mind.'
Without the Councilman having to knock, the doors opened. Inside, a sight made Ilyas gasp and stare with wide, gaping eyes.
'What the hell?'
There was an oak-floored ambient lounge with dark leather couches, enclosing a seating area marked by an intricate Persian rug. Two chandeliers shared the space, illuminating it with a soft, mellow, yellow light that knew not to disturb the soothing spirit of the lounge. Oil paintings hung on every dark-brown wall displayed expressive interpretations of natural wonders before the war on the surface. And beyond it all, at the very end of the room, the subject of the lounging room, a glass bank wall partitioning the place from a green vista with a turquoise lake, golden fields, and a distant, realistic holographic projection of a mountain range. A seamless, glass door was fitted to allow residents, or condemned, to venture out.
'It's like a double-page spread showcasing a new realm that the Wasteland Crusader visits.'
The place trampled his expectations, almost giving him sensory overload. For a moment, he wasn't a dead man walking.
'What is this place?'
Benjamin also seemed, for the first time, a bit astonished by its opulence.
"Gentleman," the Councilman said, "This is the Garden. But I am afraid we won't terminate here. Except for our friend Mr Karmin."
A heavy look of disappointment washed over Benjamin's face, while Ilyas, having expected this, remained drowning in the beauty of the enchanting place for as long as he could.
Suddenly, two servants appeared beside them. One was a remarkably handsome young man, while the other was a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. Both seemed to be in their early twenties. They bowed slightly at the condemned and the Councilman with delighted and gentle smiles.
The young man spoke, "It is a pleasure to meet you all and an honour for us to accompany your noble selves."
The young woman stepped forward. "Nothing makes us happier than to serve those who will sacrifice themselves..."
The young woman trailed off as she stared at the Councilman, who was shaking his head discreetly. Or at least he tried to be discreet. She squinted at him, confused, until the Councilman said, "Well, actually, only this man right here-" he gestured to old Karmin, who was still lost in his own world, "...will be spending his final moments in the Garden."
The two servants frowned in confusion, briefly glanced at Ilyas and Benjamin, then stared at each other, then back at the two Dwellers again. They stared intently, squinted, then stared some more. The young man cleared his throat and said, "Mr. Claude, they do know-"
The Councilman interrupted him with a blunt, "Yes."
An awkward silence settled amongst them for a few moments while Ilyas was pondering something else.
'How did they get such divine level Personal Tasks?! How?! They spend time in this heaven as a service?! What kind of merits did they...'
Ilyas squinted at the two servants, gauged their looks, then sighed in understanding.
'Ah, I see. So not everything is about merits.'
The young woman finally broke the silence with a hesitant chuckle and said, "Well... if that's what they wish, then who are we-"
"Yes, yes, that's already been heard," the Councilman said impatiently. "Anyhow, please take care of our fellow Dweller, Mr. Karmin here." The Councilman ushered the old man forward to the two servants, bid him farewell, and the Guardians proceeded to lock the doors.
Ilyas sighed as he contemplated the fate of his fellow condemned. Even though he was too, in a bleak position, knowing that he was associating with someone who was guaranteed, no room for doubt, to be neutralised that night was a bit unsettling.
'We all die someday, anyway.'
He was about to face his fate, too, but strangely, that tiny string of hope given to him by his father was brighter than his despair. His fear was so vast that he felt somewhat numb to the prospect of his death; however, with that tinge of hope, it somewhat shrunk and slowly receded. Why? His chances were very low, so why did he feel...
'What is it the Councilman said? 'When I am, death is not', huh?'
It somewhat made sense from that perspective. If he were to die, then nothing would exist after. But if he were to live, then that string of hope was the only outcome that would exist. And therefore, for Ilyas the Dweller of Vault KL507, the only future was the future outside.
His fear was a hormone that could run dry.
Still, it's not as if he was no longer afraid; he was just hopeful. And compared to the horrid and dark feeling of confusion followed by utter anguish and despair he felt in the Registry room and the lounge, the glimmer of light was so bright that it the unfathomable darkness less damning and final. Hope for him meant everything.
'It is the only thing that exists.' That was what he told himself.
They made their way through a series of doors and hatches until they reached a foyer-like chamber. No. This was the last chamber. Ilyas could tell from the ginormous metallic hatch that was the size of a whole refectory. He felt dizzy just trying to fit the whole thing in his field of vision. The foyer itself wasn't anything special. It was quite bland; constructed for practicality rather than looks. The place wasn't in use much, so it remained relatively abandoned. There was a bench in the middle of the empty space, which Ilyas thought to be quite out of place.
'They must've brought it here in haste then.'
The Councilman turned to them and said, "Well, gentlemen, I'm afraid this is as far as I go. I have been instructed to leave you two here, so I'm assuming someone else will handle your departure."
He paused, took a deep breath, looked at Ilyas with sad, compassionate eyes, and said quite honestly this time, "I'm really sorry for what happened to you, Mr. Ilyas. I am not at liberty to speak about that incident, but I know what happened. I know your reasons, and I've come to know the depth of this conspiracy against you. You risked everything for something you thought was pure, only to be met with... Oh, I do apologise for rubbing salt in your wounds; it's just that I am deeply appalled by how you've been treated. I really do hope that your decision to leave is at least propped up by some kind of insurance."
'Oh. I guess I judged this man too soon. Well, who can blame me?'
Ilyas smiled ever so slightly and said, "That means a lot Mr. Councilman. I thank you."
Ilyas did in fact feel deeply touched by the Councilman's words but he wouldn't like to admit that fact to himself.
The Councilman turned to Benjamin, nodded at him and said, "And good luck to you too, Mr. Benjamin. I hope your future is filled with happiness and content."
With that, the Councilman bowed for the last time and walked away.
In the silence that followed, a light chuckle echoed in the cavernous expanse of the foyer chamber. It was Ilyas. The dooming, dreadful silence, the surrealness, and the loitering that followed were nothing if not quite comical. He was standing there alone with a stranger he barely knew, awaiting his voluntary march to a toxic wasteland.
It had to be grander than that. Something ceremonious and loud. Or for the universe to react for such a damning event for him... but no.
Nothing.
It was just that. The end. He amounted to nothing in it all. The world would live on, indifferent to his end. Those he knew were probably already tending to their evening plans. Their dinners. Their conversations were put on pause. Some would be laughing with each other, discussing mundane incidents that were unusual.
He would pass as if he never existed.
And next year, another selection would be celebrated as it marched to its end. And the year after that, and so on. Slowly, the idea of him would drown in that accumulating Condemned, and he'll be... nothing.
'Ahhhh. So that was all I am.'
Benjamin turned to him, befuddled by his sudden laughter, but he didn't say anything. He just patiently remained silent.
A minute later, a Guardian... no, not quite, this one was clad in heavy, assertive and intimidating tungsten armour. It covered every inch of his body, making him seem like a metal beast. He was hefting an alloy box the size of a food crate. Behind him, a tall man in a dark mantle followed-
'Huh? What the hell? What's he doing here now?'
His father's lips curled in a triumphant, mocking grin. The same one he had at the ceremony, but less contained.
"Dad? What the hell-"
"Ha! Didn't I tell you, you silly child! I guessed it! Believe it or not, I was never certain, so it was all uh... a bet against my pride, I guess. Although I do gotta say, I didn't see it unfolding like that. Your closest 'friends'? Ouch."
The metal beast of a Guardian moved aside, allowing Ilyas's father to approach his son. The Guardian dropped the box on the floor with a loud Clang! echoing across the chamber, and stood there silently like an elaborate statue.
Ilyas's father, still chuckling and mumbling something under his breath, stood before his son with that smile never faltering. Ilyas stared back at him with a forlorn smile. Benjamin, meanwhile, was utterly confused.
"Dad, what are you doing here? How'd they let you up?"
His father shrugged and said, "Well, I'm your father, of course they'd let me. Close family can accompany the condemned until the very last second, but of course, with the risk at hand, they rarely do. Or, the condemned family member begs them not to. Anyway I thought you'd be glad to see me, no?"
Ilyas blinked, stuttered, then said, "I mean I am. But... wait! Are you coming with me?"
His father burst out in laughter, then said through his hysteria, "Oh god no!"
'Ah figured.'
Eventually, when his father stopped laughing, he added, "I can't really. I'm gonna die soon, so there is no point. A few days and I'm out." His father sighed and chuckled reminiscently, "Finally."
He took a deep breath and continued, "Well, you should know that by now. But I am here to leave you with a gift of some sort. I'm glad you trusted me with your decision, by the way. Good going."
Ilyas smirked and shrugged, "Ah, what can I say, I've always been an ideal son."
'Ah! So he did have something up his sleeve.'
Ilyas suddenly grew wary. "You're not gonna attack me with another needle, are you?"
His father shook his head, "No. No. One is all you need."
"I'm assuming you still won't tell me anything."
His father nodded. "Apologies, boyo, nothing much I can do there. The best I could do was that name. You remember right? Also, be careful never to say where you're from. Oh, and try to find the big places, you won't need my gift there."
'Huh? What does he mean by that?'
Ilyas nodded impatiently.
"Well then, your old man got you a toy." His father gestured for the Guardian, who then lifted the box and brought it between them. Ilyas kneeled, opened the box and frowned.
"Tomatoes? You brought me food? Dad, I love tomatoes and all, but how is this-"
His father interrupted him by smacking the back of his head. "Look under them, you blockhead. Gosh! How are you my son?"
Ilyas gave his father an indignant look, then shook his head and continued to rummage through stacks of tomatoes. Eventually, his fingers touched something cold and hard. He grabbed it and pulled it out with some effort.
'A mask?'
He pulled the mask out and was momentarily startled by it. Actually, he was entirely unsettled by the sight of it.
"Relax," his father said. "It's a gas mask. A good one. They all look like that. Well sort of. Okay not really, but it's a gas mask."
The mask was made entirely of brass. Rivets connected many small, moulded plates together into an unsettling human face. The face bore no mouth, but for a crude imitation of an upper lip. A small triangular protrusion formed a sorry excuse for a nose. And the eyes... the eyes were the most unsettling of all. They were like two ocular ports with hollow, dark insides, rimmed with perfect cogwheels for the lashes and brows. But what really made his skin shiver was that they looked... remorseful? Like a face mourning a life it took, but was also accepting of it.
The mask stared at him with some indifferent, regretful malice.
It was deadpan yet threatening. Which was a strange thing considering that it hardly looked like the face of a human, perhaps only conceptually.
From a small protrusion at the side of the mask, thin, flaccid pipes sprawled everywhere. Some rounded the head, some crawled along the cheekbones, and some would even dip to the wearer's neck like a coiling snake. They were all connected to the mask at random points on the face.
The more Ilyas stared at the mask, the more it stared back.
He looked up at his father and asked, "Did they really not configure any other design? This seems so... uncreative. I mean, why did they try to imitate a lip if they were gonna butcher it so badly?"
His father's face turned serious for a moment as he said, "Listen, son, if you're trying to find roundabout ways to say that it makes you feel uncomfortable, then let me assure you that I think so too. But-" His father raised his index finger to assert his point. "I'd like to believe that's a perk you'd need. At least try to think of it that way. The creator of the mask is an... eccentric person to say the least." His father chuckled softly to himself as if reminiscing about something distant.
"I guess that makes sense." Ilyas pondered the mask for a little longer.
'It's not like I'm gonna be seeing much of it anyway.'
Benjamin, who was standing silently aside spectating, cleared his throat and said hoarsely, "Is this your ace, Mr. Ilyas?"
The Father and the Son turned to him simultaneously. Ilyas shrugged and said despondently, "I guess so. Beats the Vaults', I guess."
His father added, "Listen, sir, I haven't a clue why you decided to accompany my son here, but I assure you... you're screwed. I mean you can still turn back with our..." His father turned to the large Guardian, shivered, then continued, "...jolly friend over here. I'm sure they'll be happy to let you spend a few hours having fun in their questionable dungeon. But outside, the mask you'll get isn't gonna stop you from convulsing like an electrocuted bird."
Benjamin remained silent as if rethinking his decision, then he suddenly smirked and shrugged with indifference. "I am... certain of my choice."
The metal Guardian assumed the silence that followed to be a signal and began unloading the tomato packages from the box. They were encased in red, netted bags with a ribbon attached to each for handling. He split them into two equal parts. He then handed Benjamin a white gas mask with a long, cylindrical protrusion from the mouth and glass eye sockets. Benjamin inspected the mask with disinterest, then reached for his two tomato bags.
Ilyas stared at his father silently for a few seconds, unable to find the right words.
This man was his only faithful companion from start to finish. It was true that he never participated much in his life, but he was still there when it mattered. Perhaps that was a good thing, since, as his father said, affection wouldn't help him.
But it still left a sour feeling in his chest.
That feeling, however, was bashed away, because now, all he could think about was how much he bloodydamn loved his father. How much he's gonna miss him. How much it will hurt to never see him again. How much it hurt to have thought he never cared, but he did all the way to the end.
'He never did any of those fatherly things, but he always told me he couldn't, not that he didn't want to.'
Perhaps his father was hurt too?
No. He most certainly was.
He saw it now, a slight shiver suppressed by a clenched jaw. Glassy eyes blinked to make them dry again.
Ilyas dropped his mask, determined to be a bit reckless with his emotions and hold his father in one last embrace. But before he could do so, his father strode forward and tightly hugged him, engulfing him with warmth and love he had never felt from him before.
'Wha..'
His father remained silent in that embrace, tucking his chin in and hiding his face under the hood of his mantle. He didn't say a word, nor did he need to. Just as Ilyas felt the guilt in Ray's hug, he felt the boundless love, worry, pride, and sadness in his father's. Ilyas felt something powerful and blue rising in his chest, and this time, he let it rise undisturbed. He hugged his father back tightly, letting the tears flow.
They remained so for a few seconds too long before his father whispered with a shuddering voice that was unlike him in every way, "Stay safe, son. Seize it all. Don't let them cheat you again. Don't let anyone hurt you like that again, ya hear?"
"Yes, Dad," Ilyas barely managed to say without whimpering.
And just like that, his father pulled away, making sure to hide his face in his mantle, gestured to the Guardian, and walked away to the far end of the chamber - a relatively safe distance from the gateway.
Ilyas, too, made sure his face wasn't exposed for a few seconds before he got himself in order.
The Guardian marched to the Gateway with thundering footsteps.
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
He eventually reached a panel with a lever at its side. His gigantic gauntlet receded, allowing for a tiny, normal-sized human hand to enter a few digits.
A few seconds later, a deafening sound filled the chamber.
BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!
An irritating, grating alarm disturbed the placidity of the moment. But Ilyas paid it no mind. He remained standing still with a brass mask in one hand and two tomato bags in the other. His eyes were fixed on his father with a determined gaze, still bleary, devastated, and afraid, but mostly resolute.
They wanted him dead today.
They cheated his goodwill.
They crushed his heart and tossed it aside, and to quench their guilt, they spared him remorseful eyes and a few pats on the back.
'That's how it is, Ilyas.'
He exhaled his self-pity away, nodded at his father's silhouette one last time, and turned to the Gateway with determined, firm steps. His brass mask was calling to him, so he pressed it to his face and felt its cold, comfortable embrace as if it were tailor-made for him. Its edges mystically extended to envelope his whole under-chin, his ears, and certain parts of his neck, like tree roots spreading their territory.
He looked eerie and unsettling. His cogwheel eyes flared a dreadful, sorrowful green.
The gateway began receding into the alloy walls, and something imperiously bright flushed the place.
The sun greeted Vault KL507 for the first time in God knows how long.
The world beyond was laid bare to him.
Ilyas smirked behind the mask.
'Well I'll be damned. That's... unexpected.'