by Vincent Vale
Sensimion approached. “Have you had more memories materialize?”
“No,” I said.
“Well then, what has your attention so focused?” Sensimion poked his head in front of the view-panel. “Human anatomy? Why do you wish to learn such boring things?”
“Leave me alone.”
“What’s wrong with you, Theron? You’ve learned something, haven’t you? Did you finish drilling the peephole? What did you see?”
I’ve seen the work of pure evil, I thought.
“Well?” said Sensimion.
“I haven’t broken through,” I lied. “You’ll know when I do.”
At that moment, the doctor entered the congregation room, wearing a white suit with a decorative stitching of interlaced circles and helixes.
“What’s going on?” whispered Sensimion. “The doctor rarely gives us the privilege to look at his hideous bulk, unless we’re being treated.”
“I bring words of encouragement to all,” said the doctor with a disturbing satisfaction.
I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you, echoed my thoughts.
The doctor continued, “After many invigorating treatments in the rehabilitation vesicle, our friend Mage has at last achieved a new and healthy mental stasis. Last night, I released her to the world. She now flies free like a regal bird toward a promising future.”
Sensimion scowled. “You’ve sent her away without letting us say goodbye?”
“The mental strain of sad goodbyes wouldn’t have been good for her. Once one is cured, they must be completely separated from this place so a sense of rebirth can be attained. Remember, Sensimion, if you’re confident of yourself and of your treatment, you too shall reach this final goal.”
My insides boiled. Liar! Murderer! Monster!
The doctor glanced at me for an instant, and I thought to see the corners of his mouth turn up, ever so slightly.
Before I exploded, the doctor briskly left the congregation room. Many of the patients showed signs of enthusiasm for the doctor’s brief dialogue.
“Are our suspicions wrong?” asked Sensimion. “Are we paranoid? Your mysterious memories are proof. Aren’t they?”
I chewed my lower lip, restraining my anger for Mage’s murder. “Don’t let the color of the doctor’s words paint over the truth.”
“Aha!” said Sensimion. “I knew you were acting strange. What aren’t you telling me, Theron?”
“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow morning.” I looked at the force field of the sanitarium’s main portal. “Listen carefully, Sensimion. In the morning, make sure you’re awake and dressed an hour before your sleeping quarters are usually unlocked. Don’t sleep late. Time is of the essence.”
“Why?”
“Please, just do it.”
“Your mood is troubling, Theron. Why won’t you tell me? What do you know? What are you planning?”
“You’ll understand in the morning. Right now, I have something important to do.”
I left the congregation room and returned to my sleeping quarters. I began my modifications to the pulse drill. I no longer needed it to pulse. I needed a steady, concentrated beam that would kill and cut. After a few modifications, I returned the micro scalpel back to its original function. I tested it on a piece of synthetic meat I had brought back from dinner. It sliced it in half with ease.
“They’ve driven me to this course of action. They’re liars and murderers. My actions will be justified. Afterwards, I’ll carry on without remorse.” I held my breath for a moment, and then spoke with ultimate conviction: “I’m not insane.”
I silently waited in my quarters until I heard the computer tone indicating bedtime. I listened carefully as all the patients were escorted to their sleeping quarters by a single orderly, who then locked the doors, one by one.
I heard the heavy steps of the orderly approaching my door—the last door to be locked—and pushed the door outward with all the weight of my body behind it. The door smashed into the orderly, knocking him out.
I nervously peered down the length of the hallway—no one saw. I took hold of the orderly by the armpits and dragged him into my quarters.
With the micro scalpel in hand, I stood over the orderly.
Am I really going to do this? I thought. Will I be as bad as them?
Despite my hate for the doctor and the orderlies, I still dreaded the hideous act I was about to commit. I examined the orderly’s face and felt a disturbing comfort.
“It was you... your hands... your action.” I smiled. “I do this for Mage.”
I tucked my blanket in the crack at the base of the door.
Hopefully, this’ll be sufficient. Soon there’ll be much blood.
I couldn’t believe what I’d done. Despite guilt and disgust, I wore it. Humid and hot, it stuck to my skin. It was heavier than I’d thought it would be and confined me terribly. I could barely breathe within it. I walked down the hall with a labored gait and finally came to Sensimion’s quarters. I released the magnetic lock and swung the door open. Sensimion sat up in his bed, his expression that of absolute terror.
I stepped within.
Sensimion drew back. “Who are you? Is this a dream?”
I pulled it away from my face, revealing myself.
“What have you done, Theron?”
“I’ve flayed, and now wear, the skin of an orderly.”
“You’ve gone crazy.”
“No, I haven’t,” I said defensively. “They didn’t let Mage go free. She didn’t get well like the doctor said. They broke her neck and threw her into the incinerator like garbage.”
“And wearing their skin like a wild-eyed lunatic is your revenge?”
“No. I wear the skin of an orderly so I can pass through the main portal of the sanitarium. It was you who told me that the force field of the portal can discriminate the DNA of anyone trying to pass through.” I peeked into the hallway. “We must escape now, unless you want to join Mage in the incinerator.”
Sensimion agreed, and we snuck to the main portal. The doctor and orderlies were nowhere in sight.
I whispered, “I’ll pass through first, remove the skin-suit, and throw it back through the portal. When you put it on, be sure to secure these straps to close the openings at the arms, legs, and back. This will ensure your own skin won’t be detected by the portal.”
Sensimion shuddered.
“Do you understand?” I said.
“Yes.”
I tested the orderly’s flesh, moving my hand toward the portal’s barrier. It passed through freely. Without further delay, I stepped to the other side. I quickly removed the skin-suit and threw it back through the portal to Sensimion.
I stood nervously. What’s taking him so long?
Finally, Sensimion appeared. He pulled off the skin-suit with panic and revolt. “What now?”
“Let’s first get clear of this place,” I said, looking down the dim corridor in which we now stood.
We ran for hours through a maze of empty corridors, until at last we arrived at the MegaCity’s breathtaking under-workings. I tried to gain my bearings. In preparation for the escape, I had accessed the library view-panel and found pictures and schematics of the MegaCity’s structure. In front of us towered monolithic pillars that served to uplift the city’s diamond-fiber superstructure to its fantastic height. Between the pillars sat great machines, whirring enthusiastically, keeping the city alive.
I turned to Sensimion. “We should part paths here, and find separate ways to the surface.”
“I’d rather not be left alone,” said Sensimion. “Why can’t we go together?”
“They’ll be looking for two of us. Also, we should never speak of these events again.” I frowned. “I’ve done terrible things. I’ve killed and mutilated a man. You’re no less guilty, as you’ve benefited from this sick deed.” My lips curled in revolt. “I’ll never forget the disgusting confinement of wearing another man’s skin. It’ll haunt me forever.
”
Sensimion cocked his head, as if to listen to the MegaCity above. “What do you think’s out there?”
“Something better than the sanitarium.” I hugged Sensimion. “I’ll miss you, brother.”
“I’m sorry about Mage, Theron.”
“So am I. Goodbye, Sensimion.”
DIMENSIONAL
CHAOS
I looked out the window of my apartment on the Brahman Station and admired the magnificence of Jupiter, around which the space station orbited. I looked back to the old framed picture of my wife, Cassandra. It was her birthday today. “I’ll see you soon, my love.”
I returned the framed picture to the dining table. I touched the window and a control screen popped up.
“How may I help you Mr. Mobius?” came the computer’s female voice.
“Upload the program ‘Mobius One’ to my neural interface.”
“I cannot, Mr. Mobius. That program contains illegal SLIP coding that can be both addictive and degenerative to your neural pathways.”
I held my hand to the window. “Override safety protocols.”
“Verifying credentials…” The computer scanned my identity chip and biometrics. “Level ten authorization accepted. Uploading program now.”
I could feel the program stimulating the desired neural clusters. Bright flashes blinded me as the neural activity traveled to my visual cortex. I fell back into my anti-gravity chair and blacked out.
When I came to, Cassandra was standing above me. Her caring blue eyes connected with mine. I felt whole again.
She smiled. “What are you doing my silly, wonderful man?”
“I’ve been waiting for you, my love. Happy Birthday. Where have you been?”
“You know my birthday falls on the annual genetic medicine conference.”
“Of course I know. I’m glad you’re back.”
She fell into the anti-gravity chair with me, and we comforted each other in a weightless embrace. I sighed in relief as I held her tight. I never wanted to let go. I wanted to feel her heart, her breath, and her warmth forever.
“You smell like honeysuckle.”
“Do you like it? It’s new.”
“It’s perfect.”
She whispered, “We’re perfect.”
“I caressed her face with a gentle hand. “I love you so much.”
“I know you do.”
She pushed me out of the anti-gravity chair and her face turned serious. “That’s why you have to let me go. You have to move on.”
“Why are you saying this?”
“You have to let me go. You have to move on.”
“Stop it. You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
“Someone murdered me. That’s what’s going on.”
“What do you mean, Cassandra? You’re taking this joke too far.”
“Don’t you remember, Theron? I’m dead.” She repeated those words, louder and louder, until she was yelling. “Don’t you remember, Theron! I’m dead! I’m dead! I’m dead!”
The window suddenly cracked, Jupiter’s image became distorted. I looked back and Cassandra was gone. Fear and emptiness filled me. I cried out for her. Sadness quickly became anger, and I screamed. The window shattered outward and I was sucked into space. I fell into Jupiter, its gravity pulling me faster and faster. At last, I realized the truth. I was in SLIP mode. I was hallucinating.
I bounded out of the anti-gravity chair. “Who the fuck!”
I went to the control screen at the window and accessed the SLIP program. I looked over the coding and realized it had been altered. “Computer, who modified this program last?”
“You did, Mr. Mobius.”
I grit my teeth. “What terminal was it accessed from?”
“Terminal 32 in the upper control room.”
“Bring up the nearest surveillance recording for that terminal at the time the program was modified.”
Another screen popped up on the window and I saw the back of someone’s head. Someone’s head I knew well. Atticus turned around and waved to the camera, knowing I’d be looking at the recording.
I closed the control screen. “That old bird’s going to drive me crazy.”
I didn’t hold it against him. He just wanted me to move on—to find happiness again. The truth was, it would’ve been Cassandra’s birthday today. She died a long time ago. I missed her so much. She was the second woman I’d loved in my life. Mage being the first. Then again, Mage may have never been real. The events in the sanitarium ninety years ago may have only been a dream, or at least I wished they were.
“Computer, display all pictures from album four.”
Every smart surface in the apartment displayed Cassandra’s image. I picked up the old picture frame from the dining table. It was the best picture I had of her. We just finished rehabbing an old house. She loved getting her hands dirty and didn’t think the AI-droids should have all the fun. Our life was just beginning. We were truly happy at that moment, and would be for another ten years, until her murder.
I placed an adoring finger on the picture, touching her blonde hair. I remembered how soft it was and how good it smelled. Oh, to smell that sweet, honeysuckle scent again.
“Happy Birthday, darling. They say eighty’s the new forty.” I laughed. “As long as you can afford the genetic rejuvenation treatments you helped develop.”
She was a beautiful genius—her work still renowned. I wondered what she’d look like now, middle-aged like myself.
“You’ve missed so much in the last thirty-five years. I finished the dimensional gateway. I wish you were here. I wish you could be proud of me.”
A computer tone indicated someone was at the door. I returned the picture to its usual spot at the center of the dining table.
“Come in,” I called.
Atticus shuffled into the apartment. He was an older man, with silky white hair and a wrinkled complexion untouched by rejuvenation treatments.
I gave him a stern look. “You could’ve given me a cerebral aneurysm.”
“My code was flawless.” He looked at my pants. “Hmm… maybe not flawless.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were supposed to piss yourself.”
“You sick bastard.”
I started laughing and he joined me.
“Let me make it up to you, Theron.” He held up a small glass vial filled with an amber liquid. “I finished synthesizing your medicine.”
I took hold of it eagerly. I needed it bad. “Did you increase the concentration, my friend?”
“I did, and it concerns me, since a tenth of this concentration would be lethal to a normal man. This is the second time in the last month you’ve asked me to increase the concentration. What’s going on?”
I felt embarrassed. “The memories are returning. The insanity, after so many years in remission, is again clouding my mind.” I uncapped the vial and let a drop fall into my eye. “For some reason those memories... those non-realities... have been resurfacing over the last month, unhindered by the medicine. A few days ago, I found myself in the bathroom on my knees, reciting some ancient German speech. Unfortunately, I thought the toilet was my microphone. I’m afraid I may again lose myself to the madness.”
Atticus showed caring eyes. “For whatever reason these memories have returned, we’ll suppress them just as we did so long ago.”
“I hope you’re right, Atticus. I still have many things to do in this life. I don’t want to be wandering the streets again, ranting the rant of a madman.”
“That was a long time ago.” Atticus put a reassuring arm around me. “And even if you do go crazy, I’ll still be here for you.”
I smiled. He truly was the best of friends. Ever since Cassandra died, Atticus had been the glue that kept me together. Without him, I would’ve fallen to pieces long ago.
“Don’t get emotional on me now, kid. Will you be ready for the maiden voyage through the dimensional gateway? It’s only three days away.”
“I’ve sacrificed too many decades of my life for the Brahman Station. I won’t let a few bouts of madness interfere with the final realization of our work.” I rolled the vial between my fingers. “Hopefully, this new concentration will maintain my sanity.”
“Remember that the inauguration party will be held the day before. You’ll be expected to say a few inspiring words, as there will be diplomats from Earth, Mars, and Mercury, representing their generous contributions to the dimensional gateway program.”
“Don’t worry, Atticus.” I took a deep breath. “The new concentration’s working. Even now, I feel like a new man. I must get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Atticus departed and I went straight to bed. Before I could fall asleep, my communication node chimed, signaling an incoming call. I pulled myself out of bed and trudged across the room. The display screen identified the caller as “Simon Mobius, brother of Theron Mobius.”
A prank?
I didn’t have any relatives, except for Atticus, who I considered my surrogate family.
Curious, I decided to open communication. I walked to a round cistern recessed in the floor and filled with a liquid matter. I picked up a control sphere and dropped it in. The nano-intelligent matter, by guidance of the control sphere, rose up and took the shape of a human figure. Its form became defined and colors bled through the substance until the figure resembled an almost perfect simulacrum of a man. It had gray eyes, blond hair, and wore a long blue coat.
“Who are you?” I asked. “I have no brothers.”
The simulacrum stepped out of the cistern and, moving with all the independence of a real person, shrugged its shoulders. “I had to speak with you, Theron, and I knew such a mysterious communication couldn’t go unanswered. Also, I wish to gain your permission to board the Brahman Station using this alias.”
“Absurd! Who are you, and what do you want from me?”
“Both these questions must remain unanswered until we can meet in person. This mode of communication can’t be trusted. The hyper-signal is poorly encrypted. All I can say is that it’s very important.”