Stasis: A Will Vullerman Anthology Read Online Free Page A

it forward, resting it against his thigh.
    The glowing figure's features became clear. A girl. A little girl, not more than eight, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a mid twenty-first century dress.
    And holding a gun, loosely in one hand.
    The girl's eyes were blank. Like she didn't know what she was doing. It chilled Will's heart. What in the blazes was going on here?
    She raised the gun. A shot rang out, and the bullet sparked on the steel flooring, not three meters away.
    Will's hands trembled. He tried to raise the gun. Couldn't he defend himself? Wasn't it okay, in self-defense? His finger tightened around the trigger. His breathing spun out of control.
    No. He couldn't. He couldn't—he wouldn't —defend himself against a little girl. He couldn't shoot.
    He threw his gun down and stood up.
    And then the little girl disappeared. Bright lights powered on along the ceiling, revealing a long hallway. Dust dimmed the shine of the steel where it hadn't before. Strange. Perhaps the radiation had something to do with the lack of dust in the previous rooms.
    Will examined the area. Five meter ceiling, sleek walls and floors. And mounted on the wall to Will's left was some sort of automated artillery.
    He let out a breath. So the little girl was an illusion. Will shivered. No wonder America had been attacked. They had technology that was far more advanced than anything Will had ever seen. All he could think was that, somehow, he had passed a test, and that the image of the little girl was created by a computer and projected. Perhaps it was a way of making sure that the intruders didn't have hostile intent.
    But it had looked real.
    Will picked up his handgun and shoved it in the pocket on the back of his suit. His helmet lay nearby. He grabbed it and put it under his arm, starting down the hallway.
    So what was so valuable that so much money had been invested in this place? Why was it so hidden and protected?
    He hoped to find out.

    ************

    He rounded a bend and found yet another door waiting for him. Will glanced around. The passage led nowhere else, so perhaps this was his destination.
    This door, however, had handles. Good, old-fashioned handles. Will switched his helmet to his left hand and grabbed the handle, yanking the door open.
    A solitary light glowed above the door, with darkness beyond. The light revealed metal caskets in rows, as far as he could see, receding into the darkness. Each casket was roughly three to four meters long and half as tall as Will was. A green light glowed beneath each casket. Even beyond the reach of the light, he could see the soft green glow of other caskets, like some subterranean field from a penny-dreadful steampunk novel.
    The sight instantly made him think of coffins. Will shuddered, but forced his mind to something else. It would do no good to be morbid.
    To his left, there was some sort of a booth: two "walls" about a meter and a half high, a chair, and what looked like a large, boxy touchpad on a center wall, which was a few centimeters higher than the other panels.
    Will knew he should probably examine the touchpad first, but his curiosity got the better of him. He moved to the nearest casket and examined it. Steel, as far as he could tell. At the end closest to Will, there was a label on top. Words glowed on the label. He leaned down and read, "Lana Shepherd—Wichita, Kansas".
    Will backed away. Was it really a coffin? What kind of a graveyard was this?
    Swallowing hard, he leaned over the 'coffin' again. On the side of the coffin, there appeared to be a panel. He pushed gently with his fingertips, and it slid smoothly back. There was a touchpad beneath, and words glowed on the screen. It read, "Stasis level: full stasis. Stasis status: functional and livable for stasis patient. Stasis patient status: alive and in suspension. Aging disabled."
    Will's breath caught. In stasis? So the person was alive ?
    "God almighty," he breathed. It wasn't a curse, or an