Later.

“Please!” he shouted. “Please!”

Static hissed through the speaker above him.

“I can fix this,” he begged. “I just need more time. I can fix this!”

A familiar voice crackled over the intercom. “You’re out of time.”

​

Nathan rubbed at his eyes, yawning as he skimmed the clipboard: pump vibration, corrosion, humidity, another pressure warning. In other words, the exact same results he sees every morning. He knew he should care, but the monotony of endless, identical days had worn him down. Rising from the break room chair, he scrawled his signature on the report before chucking the clipboard to the side as he went to pour another coffee. He filled up his mug, adding far too much sugar to be healthy.

“Did you actually read the overnight report?” Claire snuck up behind him, causing his hand to jolt, spilling some coffee onto his shirt.

“Jesus, Claire, a warning would you?” he hissed, grabbing some tissues to dab at the stain. “Course I did.”

“Are you sure? Because you looked at it for less than five minutes.” She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head.

“What can I say?” He gave a flat, tight-lipped smile. “I’m a quick reader.”

“Or,” she argued. “You’re a liar who’s not doing his job.”

He gave up on saving his shirt; he’d sort it later, and walked back to the table, slumping back into the seat. “Look, Claire.” He rubbed his temples. “Why do you have to be on my case all the time? Seriously, just chill.”

“Just chill?” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “Maybe I would ‘just chill’ if you could do your job properly.” While Nathan sipped his coffee, Claire grabbed a stack of papers, slamming them down in front of him. “The cooling system flow rate is down two per cent, there's elevated humidity in reactor level two, pump three is seeing vibration during startup, and pre—”

“Oh my God,” he cut her off. “I was joking earlier, but you need to calm down.” He placed down his coffee, spinning to face her. “This is all run of the mill. It's the same every day. Stop sweating the small stuff, it’ll be fine.”

“Boss!” Behind them, someone called for him.

Nathan stood up, patting her on the shoulder. “If it’s that big a deal, I’ll have maintenance run another check later, okay?”

Claire watched as he walked away, laughing at something one of the technicians said. She glanced down at the table, to the signed report, and couldn’t help the sinking feeling that overcame her.

​

Nathan arrived at the reactor level, humming a light tune. He looked down at his stained shirt, letting out a small huff as the elevator dinged. Stepping out brought him into a long hall with steel floors that led to grated walkways. Condensation dripped from overhead pipes, accompanied by the low hum of pumps and generators.

The hall opened onto the maintenance deck, a large room overlooking the reactor and coolant pumps below. Walkways crisscrossed the chamber, connecting control rooms and observation platforms suspended above the machinery.

He scanned his ID card and stepped into a small office furnished with a few desks, some terminals, a large lever, and a pair of battered filing cabinets. Dropping into his chair, he took a long sip of coffee before pulling up the morning diagnostics. Everything was green. Exactly as expected. Claire really did need to relax.

Knock. Knock.

“Morning, boss.”

“Nathan looked up to see Liam, a young technician, standing there with a tablet tucked under one arm.

“Please don’t tell me something's up already. I just got here.” Nathan groaned.

“Nothing major.” Liam handed him the tablet. “Loop B pressure's creeping up again.”

Nathan glanced at the screen. 2.3%. Barely worth mentioning. “Same as last week?” he questioned, handing the tablet back.

“Pretty much.” Liam shrugged.

“Then it’s fine.” Nathan looked back at his computer, updating the logs.

Liam lingered for a little longer before speaking up. “There is one more thing.”

Nathan sighed, looking back. “What?”

“The increase is a little faster than normal.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. “So, keep an eye on it.”

“That’s it?” Liam fiddled with the tablet, rocking slightly on his feet.

“That's it.”

Once Liam left, Nathan returned to his computer, continuing to note logs and respond to his backlog of emails. He had barely responded to three when a soft chime echoed through the maintenance deck.

Warning: Cooling Pressure Advisory. Loop B.

Yellow text appeared briefly across several monitors. Around the room, nobody reacted. Nathan acknowledged the alert before the warning vanished, leaving the hum of machinery to continue uninterrupted.

But ten seconds later, the warning returned. A few heads tilted this time, looking around the room.

Nathan frowned, minimising his emails to pull up the pressure readings. The graph crept steadily upwards across the screen.

2.4%.

Then 2.5%.

Still within the operational limits, nothing to create a fuss. He leaned back in his chair, calling out. “Liam.”

The young technician appeared almost immediately. “Yeah?”

“Pull up Loop B’s sensor data. I want to make sure we’re not dealing with another faulty reading.”

Liam nodded and quickly hurried away.

A third chime sounded through the maintenance deck.

Warning: Cooling Pressure Advisory. Loop B.

Nathan stared at the screen, eyebrows drawn together. “That’s getting annoying,” he muttered. He reached down to a lower drawer, pulling out a thick manual that he dropped onto the desk. He opened it to the contents, tracing his finger down the list till he found what he was looking for. Around him, the hum changed. It was subtle, so subtle that he almost missed it. The deep, familiar drone of the coolant pumps had shifted pitch.

As he flipped through the book, Liam returned at a jog.

“Uh, Boss?” He bit his lip, hovering in the doorway.

“What?” Nathan snapped. This really wasn’t his day.

“The sensors are fine.”

Nathan looked up from the book, spinning to face him. “What do you mean they’re fine?”

Liam swallowed. “They’re fine? I mean, they’re accurate.”

The pressure graph jumped again.

2.7%.

2.9%.

3.1%.

The room suddenly felt very quiet.

“Okay,” Nathan said, standing with a clap. “Let’s isolate Loop B and run a diagnostic.”

Before anyone could move, another alarm sounded.

Then another.

And another.

Yellow warnings flashed across every monitor in the room.

Nathan's stomach dropped. In front of him, red text appeared.

CRITICAL PRESSURE BUILD UP. LOOP B.

The hum of the pumps became a violent shudder. Somewhere beneath the maintenance deck, metal groaned. Steam hissed from rattling points, and everybody seemed to be frozen. Then, every face turned towards the reactor chamber.

“Hey, are you seeing this?” Someone questioned.

Crack.

The sound echoed through the deck. For a split second, nobody moved. Then, a pipe the width of a car burst open.

“MOVE!” Nathan shouted, standing to grab Liam.

A jet of water tore across the chamber. Nathan was thrown from his feet, his helmet cracking against the wall.

REACTOR LEVEL BREACH DETECTED.

AUTOMATIC CONTAINMENT INITIATED.

EVACUATE IMMEDIATELY.

All Nathan could hear was ringing; his head ached, and he thought he might be sick. He felt someone grab his arm, pulling him to his feet.

“Bos—com—on!” He could see Liam's mouth moving, but the words were in jumbled pieces. He squinted, trying to make out what the man was saying, before looking at the terminals. Through the panic, he caught sight of the monitor.

The pressure wasn't stabilising. In fact, it was climbing. Fast.

If Loop B wasn’t manually isolated, the entire cooling system would fail.

“Nathan!” Liam shouted, pulling his arm. “We need to go!”

Nathan looked at the exit, then to the reactor.

Shit.

“Go!” he yelled. “I’ll be right behind you!”

He sprinted across the maintenance deck. Behind him, the evacuation alarm continued to howl. Water surged through the ruptured pipe, slowly flooding the room. He reached the manual isolation controls just as the containment system activated.

A deafening klaxon sounded. Emergency lights flooded the room.

Massive steel blast doors began sliding from the walls. Nathan turned to face the exit, but it was too late. The final door slammed shut with a force that shook the chamber.

“No.”

Nathan lunged forward, slamming both hands against the cold steel.

“No, no, no!”

He hammered his fists against the door. Nothing. The locking mechanisms engaged with a heavy metallic clunk. Behind him, water continued to pour.

“Containment override,” Nathan barked at the nearest terminal.

The screen flashed.

OVERRIDE DENIED.

“Come on…” he begged.

OVERRIDE DENIED.

A burst of static crackled overhead. Nathan froze. Then a woman's voice filled the chamber.

“Nathan?”

He looked up to the speaker. Relief washed over him. “Claire, thank God. Please, open the door.”

His request was met with silence.

“Claire?”

Another beat lasted before she replied. “I can’t.”

Nathan laughed. “Very funny.”

“Nathan.” Her voice cracked. “I can’t.”

He stared upwards, towards the speaker. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“The containment system has sealed the reactor level.” She sounded solemn, as though marching a man to his death.

“Override it.” He bit.

“There isn’t an override.”

Nathan's eyes widened as the situation truly dawned on him. He turned back to the monitors, where the pressure graph was still climbing. His stomach tightened as he inhaled. “Okay.” He breathed out. “Then I’ll isolate the loop manually.”

Claire hesitated before her voice filled the room again. “Nathan… the rupture damaged more than Loop B.”

“What?” Nathan questioned, pulling up the systems on his monitor. Before he could finish reading, a new display appeared.

ESTIMATED CORE FAILURE: 09:47.

Nathan stared at the numbers. Nine minutes. Forty-seven seconds.

“Tell me there’s another estimate.” Claire didn't answer. He nervously laughed. “Claire.”

“There isn’t.”

Water swirled around the reactor. “Then let’s get to work.”

“I’ll guide you, just follow my lead.” The sound of paper came through the speaker; Claire must be reading the manual. “You need to close the manual isolation valve across the chamber.”

He looked out, seeing the large valve across the room. The water was only a few inches high, below the catwalk, but at the rate it was rising, he didn’t have time to dawdle. He crossed the room, gripping the valve with both hands. It squeaked as he slowly turned it, his muscles tensing against the force.

“I told you there was a problem,” Claire began. “If you had just liste—”

“This really isn't the time.” He grit his teeth. “Kinda busy.”

Once the valve had closed, he returned to the monitor.

ESTIMATED CORE FAILURE: 07:32.

“You have to restart the emergency coolant pumps,” Claire announced. “The controls are on the lower level.”

Nathan looked over the walkway to the floor below. Across the room, he could see the controls. He hurried down a grated staircase, entering the slowly rising flood. The water was up to his knees and showed no sign of stopping. Above him, the emergency lights painted everything red. Pipes cast long shadows across the walls, and around him, metal creaked as the room seemed to close in.

He waded through the water, dragging his legs against it, and reached the controls. He leaned against the terminal, trying to restart the system.

“How does it look?” Claire's voice echoed overhead.

“Not good, it’s not restarting.” He hit the console. “I think it's jammed, the fuse is blown.”

“When was it last serviced?” Claire questioned.

Nathan sighed. “Claire—”

“Nathan, this is your job!” she yelled overhead. “How have you let this happen?!”

“I was going to!” he shouted back. “You think I wanted this to happen?!”

“I told you, time and time again! Why wouldn’t you just listen?!” If only he had listened.

“I know!” He was defeated. “I know. I thought I had more time.” The water had reached his thighs. “I’ve worked here so long, my whole life has been sixty-hour weeks slaving away here. I was tired, I got lazy, I know.”

Claire didn’t answer; she didn’t have to.

Nathan moved through the flood, unlocking an ‘in case of emergency’ box on the wall. Inside were various objects, including some fuses and a screwdriver. He grabbed both before heading back to the console. He kneeled down, the water pooling at his chest, and unscrewed a small hatch, revealing the fuses. With haste, he removed the outlier, replacing it, before slamming the hatch closed.

He moved round to the front of the terminal, water now at his hips, as he tried once again to restart the pumps. A low rumble spread through the floor. Then another. Water churned beneath the floor.

Bingo.

Nathan smiled, turning to head back upstairs. Just past him drifted a clipboard. He picked it up, skimming the contents. It was the overnight report. The paper was damp, but part of it was still legible.

Recommendation: Immediate shutdown of Loop B.

Maybe this could have been prevented.

“Nathan?” Claire’s voice crackled overhead. “The pumps are online.”

He slowly lowered the clipboard into the water, letting out a sigh of relief.

“The reactor’s stabilising." She hesitated. “But it’s not fast enough.”

“Come on!” Nathan groaned. “What now?”

He heard Claire above, flipping through the pages. “You need to override it manually. It will force the coolant through the system and shut down the reactor manually.”

“Amazing!” Nathan yelled, running up the stairs as the water consumed the lower level. “Let's go!”

“Wait,” Claire sighed. “There’s a catch.”

Nathan dropped his head back. “Of course there is.”

“The lever has to be physically held in place while the shutdown sequence completes.” She didn’t have to say why that was a problem; Nathan had been in the business long enough to know what was implied.

“How long?” he questioned.

“Forty-five seconds.”

He glanced at the monitor.

ESTIMATED CORE FAILURE: 02:14.

He looked at the rising water. Having reached the second floor, it was now around his calves. He might not have forty-five seconds.

At the back of the room, surrounded by black-and-yellow caution tape, was the large lever. It had never been used before, never been needed. Until now.

“I wasn’t trying to make your life difficult,” Claire added.

Nathan weakly laughed. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The room was flooding at an alarming rate, and he didn’t have the luxury to reminisce on old behaviours.

He wrapped both hands around the lever. Warning lights flashed across the chamber. The water continued to rise.

WARNING.

An overhead speaker announced.

ONE MINUTE TILL CORE FAILURE.

Nathan closed his eyes in a single prayer. “Please.”

He pulled the lever, working against the water that had now reached his chest. It was tough, slightly rusted at the edges, and took his whole body to move.

FIFTY SECONDS TILL CORE FAILURE.

“Please!” he shouted. “Please!”

Static hissed through the speaker above him.

“I can fix this,” he begged. “I just need more time. I can fix this!”

A familiar voice crackled over the intercom. “You’re out of time.”

THIRTY SECONDS TILL CORE FAILURE.

The water had reached his chin. But he would not let go.

“Fuck! Come on!”

Holding the lever down took everything he had. It was meant to be a last resort, held by at least two people to avoid an accidental shutdown.

TEN SECONDS TILL CORE FAILURE.

His head was now submerged. But he would not let go.

​

WARNING.

​

WARNING.

​

WARNING.

​

MANUAL OVERRIDE ENGAGED.

​

One by one, the alarms stopped. The screaming sirens fell silent and were replaced by the steady hum of machinery returning to life. Across the chamber, warning lights flickered from red to amber. Then amber to green.

Nathan felt the lever go slack beneath his hands.

It was done.

The last thing he heard was Claire’s voice.

“Nathan?”

Water rushed into his lungs. Darkness swallowed him whole.

​

In the control room, floors above, nobody spoke.

Liam sat frozen in front of a monitor, water still dripping from his clothes.

“Core secure,” Claire announced, but nobody could find it in them to celebrate.

She reached ahead to the intercom. Her hand hesitated before she pressed the button. “Nathan?” There was no answer.

She closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair.

“You fixed it.”