1. CHAPTER ONE
“Your eyes are swallowing me. Mirrors start to whisper. Shadows start to see. My skin's smothering me.
Help me find a way to breathe.” - Bring Me the Horizon
~
“My teacher says that the Machine was once a planet, like that little one, in the
distance. The planet was blue and green, and it could support life without the re-breathers, or
the synthesizers.”
Malcolm turned his telescope to the small planet that was barely visible, a tiny dot in
the window looking out into space. He adjusted the telescope's settings, turning the dials to
hone in on the distant orb. He brushed his scraggly, brown bangs to the side of his face to get
a better look at the small planet. “This one's blue and green, too. Maybe it's one like the
Machine used to be. Do you want to see it, dad?”
Malcolm's father, a gruff-looking man in his older 30's, waved a hand at the young 13-
year-old, gripping the bottle-nose of a beer with the fingers of the other. “I don't know what
they're teaching you in school kiddo, but that's some bull. I ain't never heard that, and I been
working in the tech systems for years.”
He thought for a moment, then his mouth spread open into a broken-toothed grin. “But
I'll take a look.” He reached over and turned the telescope in his direction, facing the planet,
and put his eye up to the scope. “What am I lookin' at, here?”
“It's a little to the left, dad,” piped Malcolm, and he gently turned the telescope to face
the little blue, swirling planet outside the window of their apartment unit. “It's far away, but it
looks to be about the same size as the Machine.”
“Well, it ain't got no life on it, be sure of that. See that there? That's fire and smoke.” He
turned the telescope back in Malcolm's direction. Malcolm quickly adjusted the telescope to
take a better look at what his father was seeing. He zoomed in a little bit farther, and put his
eye back up to the telescope lens
“Dad, those are clouds. The planet might have oxygen, like the kind that the re-
breathers make. That green could be plants. Wait, hold on...” Then he saw the gray haze
coming out of a large continent of land in the middle of the planet, pluming out of a large, red

2. area. “It looks like something exploded or something. Maybe you're right, dad. Maybe it's
bull.”
“Kid, I been on this Machine since I was a babe out of my mamma's crotch. There ain't
nothin' outside this machine that's worth lookin'.” He stopped to take a slug of his beer. “They
been lookin' at those damn rocks since ever I known of. There ain't nothin' but methane and
sulfuric acid on those damn things.”
After some thought, he added, “But keep in school, son. You talk that smart stuff.
Someday you'll be a big wig. I pay a lot a' my credits just to keep you learnin' that bull, but
might one day pay off for the two of us.” He took his free hand and scruffed Malcolm's dirty,
brown hair.
“Mum'll roll over in her grave if I don' feed you two nights in a row, so I better scrape
together somethin',” he said, and spat his chew into a tin can that sat on the floor, next to the
window.
He headed over to the kitchen and from the cabinets pulled out a flour-like substance,
from the refrigerator pulled out synthetic milk and egg powder, and threw them together into a
small bowl. He cooked them right up on the stove. What was produced was a gruel-like
substance, not enough to feed the both of them. He handed it over to his son. Malcolm
frowned. “Ain't you gonna eat too, dad?”
His father smiled his big snaggle-toothed grin. “I get my credits tomorrow, and we'll a'
eat like kings. You eat up though, you got school in the morn'.” Malcolm grinned and slopped
down the gruel in a starved manner. “An' you get your ass ready for bed, kiddo.”
Malcolm ran down the hallway to put on his pajamas, and headed into the bathroom to
wash his face with water and brush his teeth with a synthetic, white paste. He ran down the
hallway to his room, and hopped onto the blue mat on the floor that served as his bed.
He heard the slow shuffle of feet down the hallway, and a head peering into his room.
“Ya in bed already? Sleep good son,” his dad called, pressing the button that controlled the
automatic door to his room, and he could hear his father shuffle over to the breakers to hit the
lights of the apartment. All went black.
Malcolm lay awake for what seemed like eternity, listening to the whir of the gears of
the Machine that kept the re-breathers going.
~

3. Malcolm was drifting off to sleep when he heard the loud buzzer of the doorbell go off,
and the slow shuffle of feet that was his father walking to get the door. The intercom buzzed,
“Hello, is this George Marshall? Serial code 09202117?'
“Yes'sir,” replied his father. Malcolm crept to the door of his room and pressed his head
against it to get a better ear on the visitor.
“This is Don Ulrich from the tech inspection systems.” Malcolm heard the automatic
door slide open. “There's been an error in the computer system on Sector 6, we're going to
need all hands on deck. You're going to have to come with me, I'm afraid.”
“Righty, then. Lemme tell ma son so he ain't up lookin' for me t'night,” Malcolm's father
sighed, and Malcolm could hear the feet shuffle slowly back toward his room. Malcolm quickly
scrambled into his bed, and was still pulling the covers back over himself when the door slid
open.
“Well, ah see you been up eavesdroppin',” George laughed. “Might not be back by the
morn', so you sleep tight kiddo, and get yerself somethin' ta eat, would ya? We still got some
egg-powder and flour, ya know how ta fix yerself up some breakfast?”
“Yeah, dad, I can manage. If you're not back by the morning I won't wait around for
you.” Malcolm got up and ran to his father, and gave him a big hug. “Be safe, dad.”
“Don't ya worry about me, kiddo, this cat's got sev'n more lives left on 'im,” George
huffed, and scruffed Malcolm's hair.
“It's time to go, Mr. Marshall, we don't have much time.” called the inspector. “We want
to get this thing straightened out by the morning.”
“Righty, I gotta go kiddo,” said George. He parted ways with his son and headed out
the door. Malcolm followed, and watched as it closed behind his father. The reactor was a
dangerous thing, he knew. But he knew his father would be back in the morning, he was often
called in at all sorts of odd hours. With that, he returned to his bed and stayed awake for a
while until he gently drifted off to sleep.
~
It was morning, and his father hadn't returned yet. So Malcolm got himself dressed in
his school clothes, splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth with paste, and headed

4. into the kitchen to cook himself up some gruel.