Level Zero

"Ray of Military and Defense: For."

"Ray of Energy: For."

"Ray of Public Information: For."

"Ray of Agriculture: For."

"Ray of Industry, Manufacturing, and Sustainability." A pause. "For."

"Ray of Exotic Pursuits: For."

"Ray of Genetic, Reproductive, and Developmental Affairs: For."

"Ray of Home Security: For."

"Ray of Education and Past: For."

The second time that week, a vote came to a resolution with unanimity. And this one was far greater than the two; he stood, scanning the other headmen. Like a single organism, they began the descent, passing rows of representatives, aides, and lucky bystanders invited to the meet.

They continued when they reached the halfway point of the colosseum, for their destination was lower. They came to the resting floor in its center. He passed by the bench containing Re-5 and Pa-5. His hand stretched out and patted the latter upon her head. She jerked up, mustering something he'd almost call a smile.

The nine of them approached the center of the floor, well beyond the constructed dais there. There, each of them positioned themselves around one of the many aspects of symbolic art etched into the metal: a nonagon. With one headman per point, they ordered themselves according to the numerical precedent they followed up to then.

He found himself at the top of the shape, facing In-3, the Sixth Headman, and the doors to the inner chamber. The last of those three was least likely to do something he disliked if he looked at it the wrong way, so his eyes traveled there.

He kneeled, palming the shining surface until he found a groove, and submitted the tip of his finger within it. The others mirrored him, and they all withheld a collective wince as a needle jammed into them, breaking the skin and penetrating deeper, almost to the bone.

He had experienced many kinds of pain over fifty years of life: dull and throbbing, sharp and wretched, and sawing and persistent, to describe a few. But this was the first time in his life he had to bite back a scream from something so small.

The needle itself was normal, no different than the needles used in medical injectors. Perhaps it was the frenzied way the machines hidden beneath the floor sucked at his blood, funneling away as much as possible before they fulfilled their purpose and stopped.

And stop they did, to all nine's relief. He glanced with his peripheries, noting that Ch-4 looked particularly tense compared to the others; she completed a masterful task in ensuring her face remained void of signs of suffering, better than some of the older headmen. Then again, he was as eager as her for the pain to come to its cessation. Why the activation mechanism was so much of a hassle to endure, he hadn't a clue.

The needles retracted, leaving them to pull bloody fingers from the sockets with a new resentful light in their eyes as they stared at the floor. They waited while hearing heavy machinery turn and churn beneath their feet, surprising him. He wasn't the only one: In-3's eyebrows, as hard to catch a clear image of as they were, were notable for sticking together from the center of his brow.

The sounds reaching them reminded him of heavy, heavy machinery. Something less modern than what the majority of them expected for such a recent addition to the inner chamber.

They stepped away from the nonagon as twin metal sheets bisecting the shape stretched apart from one another, splitting the shape down the middle. They disappeared beneath, leaving a nonagon-shaped hole.

It remained void of anything of note for a short time; a console rose, and with the hole acting as an open pathway for the inner workings below, the noise of shifting gears and levers acting, autonomous, on their purpose found them with greater prominence than even that of their own breaths.

The console was conspicuous to their eyes since it molded to the shape of a similar nonagon. This time, they all found a side to stand on, where a multitude of biometric scanners awaited. Each person did their retinas, handprints, breath composition--that one left a particular, acrid taste in their mouths, and unique vocal signatures, speaking into mounted vocoders.

Upon the completion of every task, one of four small bulbs on every side of the console would flicker to life. Though there were no obvious signs of rust, there was a delay between inputting scans and the programming within registering and confirming.

Once from all thirty-six bulbs luminosity originated, the center of the console, before a simple dome, split into three parts that slid away into the mechanical depths. Out from the dome rose a lever, leaning over and orienting itself to face the position of the First Headman. Him.

On its tip was a small board with two switches. He glanced past it and over the console at every headman, checking their expressions. Ch-4 revealed nothing, but neither would she look at him. Fourth Headman wouldn't meet his eyes either, though small twitches around his jowls revealed smidgens of ineptitude for holding a handle over his feelings. In-3 resorted to the usual glare.

He sighed. Even now, when they had agreed, they still showed unwillingness. What was he going to do with the home interest? Then again, that wasn't the right question to ask himself as he reached up, ceremonious and reverent as he flicked the first switch. Above the two switches, a panel flickered to life. Words danced across it.

"Are you positive?" and "Once the action is resolved, there will be little chance of reigniting hope for the future."

Inflating his diaphragm, he chose to ignore the second, and the sting he felt in his heart. It hardly mattered, as In-3 said. Some things were dreams, and while he had no intention of allowing his to wither and die as he would, he was beginning to understand some dreams weren't achieved in a single lifetime. Not all wars resolved either. He smiled at the thought.

He flicked the second switch and watched as the arm retreated, bringing the switchboard back inside the dome. The dome closed, and the console descended back into the floor, the plates of the nonagon extending to cover its fade into the dark from prying eyes. The chamber listened to the sound of complex machinery growing weaker, clinks and churning becoming quiet and puttering out.

He summoned his HUD, finding a new notification: the black head of an Aud occupying the left corner. Prominent enough to not miss unless blindness could receive fault for it, it stared at him with empty sockets.