Z2012SITEGBURIEDBENEATH

//Clink. Clank.// The pounding of the machines was the only thing that filled Frederick’s ears. He screwed in a few nuts and bolts into the partially built robot as it worked its way down the assembly line. Soon it would be a full ledged robot, complete with a head, arms, torso, and legs. It was almost identical to a human being, except for one small detail. It had no eyelashes. Robots didn’t need to close their eyes in despair, or even sleep. Robots were unstoppable creatures, fit for anything.
 * Site G: The Markers- Buried Beneath**

So, Frederick continued to lazily screw in some nuts and bolts into each robot that went past him. The hours crept slowly by, and he lost track of how many robots he had built. Finally, the clock struck six, and Frederick and his coworkers checked out of the factory. They headed home, which was just a few roads over. They were all confined to the Navy Base. No one could leave, and no one ever tried. Everyone was perfectly content with his or her small, but rewarding lives on the Navy Base.

But Frederick wanted something more. He didn’t want to spend his days as a lowly bolt screwer. He wanted to lord above the lowly bolt screwers as their leader. Their mentor. He wanted to be the Creator. The Creator was responsible for designing the robots. Frederick would be able to have control over //everything//. He could design a whole new race of robots exactly as he pleased. So, Frederick tried to be the world’s greatest bolt screwer in hope of a promotion or recognition. He labored endlessly, day after day. His calloused fingers and complete lack of loose bolts were proof of his hours of labor.

Finally, after over six grueling months of bolts and such, Frederick’s boss, Felicia Scruggs, approached him with the best news of his young life. “Frederick, my hardworking man, Freddy, Fredmeister,” she babbled. “How would you like to be promoted to Senior Assistant Director the Creator’s Entourage? I know it sounds like a lot of work, and it is, but trust me it’s worth it. You really have shown off your amazing potential down here in the Screw Factory, and I think it’s high time you showed us that up in the offices.” Frederick was stunned. Could it really be? Was he finally on his way to becoming the Creator? This was his chance, his in. “Why, of course I’ll take it! I’d be more than delighted!” he exclaimed. “Great,” Felicia said. “Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off and come back in tomorrow with a pen, a helluva a lot of patience, and the biggest damn cup of coffee you can make.”

Frederick arrived the next morning, bleary eyed, but jittery, and buzzing all over the place. He raced around the office building, following the Creator’s main assistants, scribbling down everything his sharp ears could pick up. All he wanted to do was see the Creator. That’s it. Maybe even breathe some of the same air. God, the Creator was his idol. He focused his efforts on his work, in hopes in would promote him even higher up the hierarchy. He freshened countless coffee mugs, took notes on incessant details, and sat in endless numbers of conference rooms.

After a few weeks, the Creator’s Entourage started to realize just how valuable Frederick was. He was willing to bend his own schedule in order to fit others. He was obviously in this

He was easily manipulated. Frederick was, in fact, //exactly// what the Creator was looking for. for the promotion, but showed truly deep pride in his work.

The moment that the Creator’s right hand man, ClarenceBancroft, walked up to Frederick with a glimmer in his eyes, Frederick knew. He was going to be fired. He knew someone would find out about that scone he stole from that catering tray, even though it was only for the Design Board. Oh, this was the end. He could kiss his dreams of becoming the next Creator goodbye. Clarence, however, had other ideas. “Frederick, it’s time. The Creator wants to see you.” Frederick was shocked. The Creator wanted to see him? In person? He guessed he wasn’t getting fired, but maybe he was being demoted for being the worst assistant ever. That would be worse than getting fired.

Frederick glumly stepped onto the immaculate metal elevator and rode it all the way to the top floor. His hands were shaking and coated in a clammy sweat. What on earth could the Creator possibly want with //him//? Frederick knocked wanly on the heavy oak doors of the Creator’s office, for fear of causing a disturbance. It creaked open, revealing no one inside. Frederick cautiously stepped in. He called out, waiting for a response, maybe from someone hidden in the shadows. He walked towards the massive desk in the center of the room. He decided he would just sit in a chair in front of the desk until the Creator arrived.

Frederick couldn’t help his wandering eyes. He could only stare at a small bamboo plant for so long. As his eyes strayed, that’s when Frederick spotted it. On an impressively ordered desk, everything stacked neatly and uniformly, not a stray paper in sight, one folder sat open. It was menacing looking, just by the sheer thickness. He could read only snippets of it without shifting everything. //Experiments. Fatal. Thousands. Dead. Markers. Outbreak. Wipe out. Happening soon. Warfare. TOP SECRET.// That was all Frederick needed to see before he ran.

Frederick sprinted at top speed down the cold, metallic hallway. He had to get out of this place and //fast//. What exactly was the Creator planning? Who exactly was Frederick aspiring to be? He couldn't carry on working in this horrible place. But where exactly could he go? He couldn't just leave. He had his home, his friends, and his pet ferret named Julian. He couldn't just leave all that behind. No, no, he had to stay. Pretend like nothing was wrong. Frederick slowed his run down to a speedy walk, when suddenly he was slammed against the wall and pinned by his neck.

"What were you doing in the Creator's office?" a cold, harsh, voice whispered menacingly in his ear. "What did you see?" "Why were you running?" Frederick looked at his jailor. It appeared to be a woman, but the toughest most intimidating woman he had ever had the misfortune to run into. He quivered in fear, and said, with tears in his eyes, "I'm sorry,ma'am. I was sent in there! I was waiting for the Creator, but he never showed up! Nothing happened in there! I didn't see anything."

"Well, from now on, stay outta there. The Creator doesn't need riffraff like you running around, screwing up his office." the buff, sunglassed woman growled. Frederick continued his harried sprint down the hall as the woman let him slide loose out of her grip. He turned sharply around a corner and decided to head back to his miniscule cubicle in the far corner of the building. He'd hunker down there with a nice, warm mug of coffee. Return to his diligent work schedule. Forget what he saw.

Just before he turned into the door of his cubicle, Frederick heard whispers. They were angry sounding, intent, and malicious. //They're done for. We gotta get 'em buried quick underneath the markers. Before anyone sees them.// Frederick's head swam with thoughts of what sort of horrible things the whisperers could be speaking of. That's it. He had to tell someone. But who could he tell?

"Felicia... please. Listen to me. I was in the Creator's office, waiting for him. I saw things on his desk. They were no good, no good at all. It said thousands of people died. //Thousands.// Something is going on on this base, and it needs to be stopped. Whatever died, however it died, is getting buried. Under those markers. Just outside that window. Who knows what it is? Who knows what will be next? It will probably be us! Felicia! You have got to help me stop this! We have to tell the people! Get them prepared, aware, and on the lookout. Better yet, to take down the Creator! Yes! Yes! That's perfect! That's what we'll do! I think I can do it! Will you help me? We can save this entire base all by ourselves!"

Frederick leapt towards Felicia grabbing for her collar, ready to shake her in enthusiasm. She held him back before he got too close.

"Ok Freddy boy, calm down now! I think this Senior Undersecretary Entourage whatever job has really screwed you up. I'm just gonna call the base psychologist... She's a real nice lady... She'll help you get through this. It's probably just stress...."

Felicia slowly backed away from the wild eyed Frederick and calmly dialed the psychologist through Frederick's desperate pleas to believe him. In a matter of moments, a svelte, dark skinned woman in a white lab coat, accompanied by two large security guards came to escort Frederick out of the the building. Throughout his entire exit of the buildingyou could hear his screams echoing down the cold, austere hallways. "The markers! The markers! Look underneath the markers!"