Page 5 - Eighth Grade vs. the Machines

“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” she calls.
I tilt my body farther back into the corner, trying
to minimize my shadow. Hiding is harder than you’d
think, given the bulky contraption on my back. It grazes
the column with an unfortunate clank.

“You know you can’t escape.”
She’s right. I’ll never make it past her to the exit.
Every approach to the doors puts me in her line of fire.
But there has to be a way out. There’s always a way out.
I peek around the column to survey my options:
A gift shop, maybe twenty feet away. Public restrooms
on either end of the main atrium. A set of escalators,
still running smoothly even after the world has ended.
And a bank of five elevators on the opposite wall, each

with a different destination carved into an adjacent
silver plate:
FLOORS 4 THROUGH 49.
FLOORS 50 THROUGH 99.
FLOORS 100 THROUGH 149.
FLOORS 150 THROUGH 199.
OUTDOOR OBSERVATION DECK: 175th FLOOR.

There’s also a space elevator that leaves from the
mezzanine, just behind the escalators: “With stops at
100,000km, 200,000km, and the Lagrange Point 1
Resort and Spa.” But that’s probably overkill. All I
need is to get to that observation deck. Then I’ll be
able to—
Zwamb. The sound of her laser rifle powering up.

3