“Emily. For the last time, none of that means anything.”

“But—Teacher, I have proof that—“

“You know, you don’t have to be here. Do you think the Council would like to hear that you’re researching some fringe conspiracy? I could go tell them. I’d have you arrested. Do you have anything else to prove to me, Emily?”

“No, Teacher.”

I sighed as I turned from Mr. Mason and walked out of the classroom. He had been my last hope—the one person who I thought might listen to my theories. Well, there was the Council, but without the backing of a big name behind me, there was no way I’d get close enough to say a word to them. I hadn’t expected him to threaten me. I’d known Mr. Mason since I was a child. I remembered the first time that I met him, after my father and I attended an address. My father, himself a historian, apparently had connections with him from another city. After the city fell into unrest, my father and mother had managed to escape. Once the city fell entirely, he followed them. I never did know much about their past together. As I got older, I realized how unusual their friendship was. The Higher Ones usually didn’t associate with us.

My father, with the help of Mr. Mason, fostered my love of science and history. I had learned how to read by the age of five, and by six, I was begging my mother to let me join her in the Hydroponics Region where she worked. At the age of twelve, after my parents died, Mr. Mason took me in as a private student to study the early Third Millennia. By 24, I was well known among my peers for my research on the post-radiation decline. I was happy with my accomplishments.

Of course, two weeks before I walked into Mr. Mason’s classroom and presented my odd findings, I began to realize that it didn’t add up.

It started when I was doing research on the effects of radiation on the aboveground life in the 21st century. Of course, that’s when Earth’s magnetic field started vanishing, which ultimately led us to build the cities. Everything aboveground died around when the water evaporated. I was studying the effects of the increased radiation on the life that remained on the surface in the interim. I wanted to determine what effect the radiation had on humans’ DNA. At that point, my propositions were supported by Mr. Mason and the Research Council. They thought that it would help the Higher Ones—the future colonists—on their trip to the nearest promising planet.

I couldn’t go above the surface, obviously. Believe me, I tried to get permission from the Council. I was, however, given permission to test the bone samples from the first inhabitants of my city. I took a collection of them to my Section and got to work.

For the most part, they were about what I was expecting. Birth defects, cancers, and other genetic problems were fairly common. There were men, women, and children, of various ages and races.

A month into my research, though, I discovered something bizarre.

It looked like a normal human femur upon first inspection. I assumed that its bent shape was the result of some injury. However, once I examined it, I discovered that it was an entirely different species. I thought it might be one of the extinct primates, but my simulations showed otherwise. It was distinctly inhuman—with large eyes, blue skin, and multiple extra limbs. There was no record of any similar species existing in the 21st century—or ever, for that matter.

Needless to say, this was groundbreaking! At least, it would have been, if my lab hadn’t been seized the next day. There was some nonsense reason that they gave me. Something about a fuel leak in my Section. I had a terrible feeling that there was something bigger—that I stumbled across something too big. The way the officers stared at me certainly didn’t help.

I had to dig deeper. I didn’t have any access to my own lab, but I did still have some of my father’s writings. He had written thousands of diary entries before his death. I knew that, before his death, he had spoken of unusual artifacts from the 21st century.

I searched through his entries for hours. Besides a few sentimental photos of us, I found next to nothing of interest. I was close to giving up when I found the last set of files. They were from the two months before his death.

My father had found a newspaper. Just one newspaper. It was dated 2038—impossible, since the last humans went underground over a decade before. Apparently, it was enough for him to doubt everything he knew.

I'll post the second part tomorrow. :)