Published: 2025-10-20

Marie entered the warehouse as she did every morning. She wore denim overalls, gloves, and a weightlifting belt. Men moved to and fro carrying heavy sacks of flour, rice, and other grains. It was the summer and the heat in old building was suffocating, plus humidity made the room feel sticky.

Marie was well-known by most, they greeted her with a warm smile and waved at her as she walked through the warehouse. She smiled and waved back with characteristic politeness.

“Hey, Marie.” Someone called to her, it was her supervisor.
“Sir, how can I be of assistance?”
“We are several men short today, so everybody’s quota has just gone up. Just so you know.”
“Understood.”
“You’re a class act.” Said the supervisor while patting her in the shoulder.

In the back of the warehouse there was a small room, which door was adorned with an “authorized personnel only” sign. Only those owning a key could enter it. Marie was one of those people. After meeting her daily quota she would head there, after all, those sacks weren’t going to move themselves.

She wasn’t a muscular woman, but her 170lbs body could easily carry a 120lbs sack of flour. It was all in the technique, and she had put all her might into mastering it.

Since working during the afternoon was hard in the summer, Marie took less breaks than most other employees and got her job done in the morning. She knew the faster she could meet her quota the better, that way she could spend the rest of the day in the back room.

At first glance, there was nothing special about the back room. It barely had space for a single person, and aside from a few shelves, a small desk, and a computer, there was nothing in there.

The computer was used to keep inventory and digitally record each employee daily numbers, after all, their pay depended on the number of sacks they were able to move at the end of the week. But Marie’s eagerness to get to the back room has little to do with her personal numbers. You see, behind the desk, there was a tunnel that lead to an underground facility, which had nothing to do with any type of cereal.

Exhausted after condensing eight hours of work into a morning, Marie followed the tunnel and descended the stairs. At the bottom of them there was a small room with with white ceramic floor and a single, locked door. Marie searched her pockets for the key and opened it. It was a decontamination room.

She removed her clothes put them in a plastic bag and sealed it, then the decontamination began.

Beyond the decontamination room laid an enormous facility. There too people walked to and fro and greeted Marie, although they couldn’t afford the energy that being amicable demanded.

“You’re late once again Marie. We cannot allow you to continue like that.” Said a deep voice behind her.

She turned around. It was Manuel Collado, the man in charge of running the facility.

“What we cannot allow is for our cover to be blown. You all refuse to sacrifice, somebody had to do it.”
“Somebody of lesser intellect perhaps. We need you here full-time.”
“Well, it ain’t happening. Now, get out of my way so I can do some work. I’m tired.”

Before Manuel could say anything else, Marie was on her way. He gritted her teeth and tightened her fist, but whatever he thought, he uttered no word.

A new pile of documents with the seal “classified” plastered on the front waited for Marie at her desk. Reading them was barely preliminary work. Keeping the façade of warehouse worker was eating away precious time from her research work, but she knew hurting the team in the short-term was the only thing guarantying their security in the long run.

Grabbing the folder at the top of the pile she let a sigh out, sat down, and started reading.

“Preliminary results of induced radiation poisoning on rats.” Read the document.

Marie skimmed through the document, trying to digest as much as she could. “Radiation levels are still detectable… Effects negligible… Tests results negative…”

She slammed the desk and put both her index and middle fingers on her temples, as if suffering from a sudden migraine. “The clock is ticking down.” She said.

She stood up and ran to the west wing of the facility.

A group of scientists experimented with rats when Marie barged into the room. The white rodents gobbled on different types of grain and instruments monitored their vital signs constantly.

“Do we have any progress at all?” She asked.
“We have documented out latest findings. You can find the report in—”
“Progress. Is there any?”

A loud noise was heard in the distance, then shots.

“Damn it, they’re here.” Marie said.

The young researchers started shaking.

“Use the emergency exit, I’ll stay here and buy time.”
“But you—”
“Now!”

The young researchers didn’t have to be told twice. They left in a hurry.

Marie know the protocol in case of breach: destroy the research.

The trample of boots became louder and louder with each passing second until the it stopped. With a kick on the door a group of armed men barged into the room.

“Drop whatever it is your holding and turn around. Now!”

Even though her back was turned to the door, she knew she was being pointed with rifles. She threw what she was holding across the room. It happened to be lighter. The room caught fire.

“You little piece of—”

The soldier was cut short by the sight of his men standing straight and doing a salute. Their superior had entered the room.

“Gentlemen. Let’s not use crass language, please.” He said.

He looked at Marie and smiled, then he held a piece of paper, which he held in his right hand, and started reading .

“For the crime of practicing science in detriment of the United Nations and with terrorist intent, I put you under arrest.”

He put the piece of paper down and motioned to his men, who despite the flames, started moving towards her.

She looked at the men and something clicked in her brain. Among them, there was one of those who didn’t show for work in the warehouse. She had led them there.

She looked at the man in charge and smiled. “I would rather die than fall to a bunch of fascists like y’all.” She said before diving into the flames.

THE END.