The Melancholy within the Mountain
The "Green Room" no longer felt like a sanctuary to Amber; it felt like a high-tech cage. Only a few days had passed and she stood by the hydroponic orchids, her hand resting instinctively on her stomach, a nervous twitch finding its way into her finger as it rested atop her unborn son. The baby was still just a quiet promise, but in the silence of the bunker, that promise felt like a ticking clock.
Am I going to bring a child into a world of lead-lined steel? she wondered. Will his first steps be on brushed titanium instead of grass? Am I protecting him or stunting his growth? What type of mother am I?
Her hormones, already a swirling storm, latched onto the claustrophobia. The air was too perfect. The light was too simulated. She felt a sudden, sharp spike of anxiety—a physical weight in her chest that made the vast living space feel like a coffin.
Dan found her there, her breathing shallow. He didn't need his sensors to tell him she was spiraling; he could feel the shift in the room's energy. He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her.
"Amber? Talk to me," he said softly, reaching for her hand.
"I know that I am overreacting, Dan," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Intellectually I completely get it, but you said it yourself. We're ghosts in the machine. But I don't want to raise a ghost. What kind of life is this for a baby? To be hidden away because of a monster who torments and finds people in broad daylight, when they are feeling safe and secure." She let out a jagged laugh that bordered on a sob. "I don't want a shield. I want a playground."
She took a deep shuddering breath, tears spilling from her eyes. "But it's all my fault. This is all because of me. I am complaining about you protecting us and I am the one that caused the need for protection in the first place. I am a horrible mother." She dissolved in body shuddering sobs as she leaned into him.
Dan felt a pang of genuine helplessness. He was a man who could fix a satellite network with a few keystrokes, but he couldn't "fix" the reality of their exile. He held her until her breathing leveled out, but he knew he was out of his depth.
He needed a perspective that didn't involve logic or engineering. He needed family.
Later – after Amber had fully calmed and gone to sleep - in the secure comms room, Dan stared at the encrypted terminal. He thought about calling Rebecca, but his sister would just give him the probability of a successful underground birth. He thought about Virginia, but she was already under enough pressure – and frankly she scared him. He felt she would say something like – Grow up Dan! Go take care of your wife.
He dialed Jessica.
The connection took a moment to bounce through the Kinetic Shield. When Jessica's face appeared, she looked tired, her eyes sharp and guarded.
"Dan," she said, her voice a low rasp. "Is she okay? Do I need to get Albert?"
Dan released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He wasn't sure what he thought would happen – maybe some coy laugh, some quid pro quo, or even a bit of I told you so. He never thought he would hear concern and thoughts of people other than herself.
"No, she's not okay Jessica." Dan leaned back, rubbing his temples. "She's starting to realize that 'forever' is a long time to spend six hundred feet down. The pregnancy is making it real. She's terrified of what this life will do to the baby. I don't know how to tell her it's going to be okay when I'm the one who locked the door."
Jessica was silent for a long beat. She didn't offer him platitudes.
"You didn't lock the door to keep her in, Dan. You locked it to keep the world out. There's a difference," Jessica said firmly. "Listen to me. She doesn't need you to promise her a playground right now. She needs to know that you see the mother she's becoming, not just the victim this person is trying to make her."
"How do I do that?"
"Stop talking about the tech," Jessica advised. "Stop showing her how you made it perfect. Give her something tactile. Something real. She's a woman who works with her hands, Dan. She's a baker. A gardener. A scientist. Find a way to let her build something down there that isn't for security. Let her start the nursery. Even if it's in a mountain, let her make it a home. If she feels like she's nesting, she'll stop feeling like she's hiding."
Dan looked at the sterile, brushed-metal walls around him. Jessica was right. He had built a fortress for a soldier, but he needed to furnish a home for a family.
"Thanks, Jess," Dan said quietly.
"Don't thank me yet," Jessica replied, her expression darkening. "Just keep her safe. Miller found something in Europe, Dan. It's bad. She doesn't need to know about that right now. Just focus on the room and don't make it about the tech Dan – make it a forest mural, a hidden library with a comfy rocker, or even a cosmos full of stars and adventure." She smiled. "Amber is strong, resilient. Just remind her. Take care of my sister Dan."
The call disconnected and Dan found himself gobsmacked. Jessica had truly changed. She was not thinking of herself at all and she was not trying to figure out how to gain, she was just genuinely concerned and wanted to help. He stood with a smile on his face. He was about to give Amber the next big project of her life.