Whimper

I stared at the crowd and told the biggest lie of my life.

“Quiet down, folks, everything is going to be just fine,” I assured the gathered mass in front of me. People of all ages, dressed from whatever days they were having before the alarms went off. Most were quiet already, staring right back up at me, and those that weren’t soon quieted down. The microphone felt wrong, like I was back at a rally seeking election, when those sorts of things mattered.

“I’m sure you all heard it, and I’m not going to patronise all you intelligent people by pretending this is news, but we’ve had final word that there was impact,” I hoped I looked appropriately solemn, that my shiny red tie and crisp suit conveyed the appropriate level of dignity for the moment, something of a funeral for the town once above us. There was a wave of noise, none in protest nor aimed at me, but much loud and distressing nonetheless. A few cries, wails, and a murmur of chatter, but then sudden silence- a collective drawing of breath as I held my microphone a little too close, sending a wave of feedback, “Ope, sorry about that, I never use these things.”

“As I said, you’re all going to be just fine, but I’m sure you want to know what that means in practice,” I cleared my throat, looking down to the hasty note cards in front of me, “We’re under a few hundred tons of concrete here, and that’s keeping us safe. Anyone unlucky enough to work in a government building will know just what concrete does to your cell signal- radiation’s just like that, it’s not getting to us down here.” Relatable humour, it even got a few laughs, remarkable to think we were still happy to commiserate about broken up phone calls after the bomb.

“But it’s everywhere up there, so we can’t all go right back out. After fourteen days, it’ll be safe enough for humans, and that’s when the cleanup crew will come in. They’ll clear any remaining physical hazards, and make sure the roads and railways are all ready to evacuate us. Then, the bunkers- yes, folks, there are other bunkers, so don’t worry if you can’t see your friends- then the bunkers will be opened up in a further fourteen days. So that’s twenty eight days altogether. We’ll be out for the fourth of July, folks, you won’t even miss summer.” I promised them, with my practiced grin, but I couldn’t stop talking, silence invites dialogue.

“We’re fully stocked with everything we need to survive the twenty eight days, and a whole lot longer if necessary. We have food, water, fuel, spare clothes and enough space for everyone to sleep, but boredom and social cohesion will be a challenge. I need all you folks to work with me so we can have a good time here, that means no fighting, no thieving, no going wild, you understand?” I cast my eyes over the crowd, a few were nodding, some rolling their eyes, still silent, “thank you, I’ll take that as a yes. But in case that isn’t enough, you should know these boys in blue are armed and trained, and we’re in extraordinary circumstances on use of force.”

I let the threat hang with just a second of a pause, “When we’re done here, you’ll be shown to your bunks. We’ll do our best to keep families together, but if we can’t, we can’t, no swapping and switching. Meals will be in here, three times a day, and will be announced manually to preserve power supplies. You’ll be provided a pill with each meal, it’s imperative you take it. It’ll prepare your body to resist the radiation when we go back outside, and you need to let it build up in your body. Now, I’m no scientist- do we have any in?” I paused, looking around the crowd, “no? Well, I’ll do my best then. It’s something a little bit like chalk, calcium something or other, and it absorbs radiation so you can excrete it right out without getting infected. Excrete means defecate, use the toilet, pass waste, if you all understand me.”

“There will be some slight side effects, that’s normal. They’ll start around the third dose, earlier for the little ones, and last the duration of treatment. You may feel tired, you may lose some hair, you may feel an itching or burning sensation, and you may lose your appetite- but it’s important you still eat.” My heart pounded as I repeated my notes, praying it was true what I’d been told - nobody with more than secondary education in the bunker, nobody to see through this mercy.

“Thank you all for your attention, folks. We’ll talk to you again at breakfast about jobs and activities, but now I think everyone needs a rest and some dinner. Listen to the fellas in the blue and form orderly lines, we’ll get this done in no time.”

I gestured towards the soldiers corralling people into groups, ending my speech, and a few in the crowd clapped. Old habits, I guess, if someone with a microphone speaks on a stage you clap.

As the cavernous main hall clears, I depart, walking back into the control room and removing my tie as I go, microphone left in its stand. The screens are still black, the geiger readers quietly screaming, and the bunker’s sole assigned engineer dangles from a hot pipe by his belt. Everything is just as I left it.

Seven days, that’s what his note says. That’s how long the healthiest will last, the rest will go sooner. Between the hope and the pills it should be painless, consciousness floating up and away to the creator.

The lie is what I owe them. Nobody really wants honesty from their leaders. They don’t want to know that they’re doomed; that their time and manner of death has been fixed since the bomb was dropped; that their insides are rotting as they claim their bunks; that the sense of calm is brain cells dying and heroin. Those that went with the bang were lucky, they don’t have to hear the whimper.