by Claudia Rose
His voice was so thoroughly laced with pain it made Helena shiver, as if an arctic chill had swept through the room.
“The irony was the entire gassing had one purpose, which was to get me. But I wasn’t there. I’d left the precinct and the protesters to make one last, private attempt to negotiate with Schtum directly.”
Helena wished he’d stop speaking. She didn’t think she could bear to hear any more.
“I was only a hundred yards past the precinct bulkheads when the lock-down alarm sounded and the auto-doors began to seal. Don’t ask me how, but I knew something terrible was going to happen. I ran back as fast as I could but I was too late.”
Brandt was entirely oblivious to where he was and whom he was talking to. His mind seemed to be living a waking nightmare. His glazed eyes saw a different time and a different place. His face was a gaunt mask. His voice barely audible.
“The doors sealed as I arrived. My family…my family…three generations of my family, they’d come to see me off. I could see them through the view-panels. My wife…Laura, oh Laura…and our sweet baby daughter…and my parents. They looked at me hammering on the door…and they saw the fear in my eyes…and they knew. They smiled at me…and mouthed their love for me…and then the clouds of gas enveloped them.”
His voice remained even, but large tears welled slowly from his eyes and traced a path down his face. He made no move to conceal them, or wipe them away.
“Schtum missed me. But he succeeded in destroying my entire precinct. Then I succeeded in destroying him. I made sure it wasn’t a clean or easy death,” he concluded without satisfaction.
He gave a skull-like grin and looked into Helena’s eyes.
“Certainly not as clean or easy as my death will be.”
For a second he was silent, and then he shook his head, as if recalling where he was and whom he was speaking to.
“Now why the hell did I tell you that?” he said flatly. Abruptly he rose to his feet and, without another word, stalked out of the room. She heard the door to his bedroom close.
Helena was stunned. This couldn’t be true. Such things just didn’t happen in the 23rd century. City employees were sworn to work for the good of the citizens. Surely he was mistaken.
She shook her head to clear it. Their wonderful Saturday evening together had ended badly. Suddenly she felt very tired, and very sad. Quietly she took herself off to bed.
Chapter Fourteen
This nightmare was new.
Helena was lying in the bed in her palatial suite at Figure Shape Inc.’s hospital. It was the day after the first major procedure. They had taken the first step to replacing every inch of mutated flesh on her limbs and torso. The amputations had been successful. She now had no arms and no legs.
Heavy sedation was keeping the pain and panic at bay. But Helena was still conscious in her innermost self something profoundly wrong had been done to her body. Her psyche was rasped raw by the horror of what was happening. She closed her eyes and tried to drift into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness. A voice wouldn’t let her. It called to her, and kept calling. Intrusive. Insistent.
“Ms. Jewel…Ms. Jewel…wake up Ms. Jewel.”
She moaned complainingly, but the voice didn’t stop.
“Ms. Jewel, I need to talk to you.”
She struggled to the surface of consciousness and forced her eyes open.
It was her doctor, her savior, the man who was going to make her beautiful.
“Wha…?”
“Ms. Jewel, there’s been a terrible error. Your parents’ lawyers have called to say a clause in their will prevents you from claiming your inheritance unless you invest it for at least five years. You have no credit with us Ms. Jewel. We have to stop the procedure immediately.”
“What? Stop? What do you mean? You can’t stop. You’ve only just started. You can’t leave me like this. I’ve got no arms and no legs. You’ll have to put them back on.”
“I’m sorry Ms. Jewel, our contract stipulates all procedures require cash up front. Your deposit only takes you this far. The best we can do is store your limbs cryogenically and, at a time in the future when you have the necessary funds, either re-attach them or continue with your full-body enhancement. For now, however, our obligation to you has ended. We’ll give you one last injection of painkillers, and then our shuttle will return you to your apartment, or to a medical facility of your choice. Goodbye, Ms. Jewel.”
Two large men in white walked in, picked up what remained of her and, despite her cries and protests, placed her on a trolley.
As they wheeled her out she began screaming…and screaming…and screaming…
* * * * *
“Helena. Helena. Hush. Hush. You’re all right. It’s only a dream.”
Strong arms were holding her tightly. It must be the men from Figure Shape Inc! They were carrying her away! She fought the arms, screaming in terror, scratching, kicking, biting.
The arms didn’t let go. Nor did the voice cease its comforting murmur.
“Shhh Helena. You’re all right. It’s only a dream.”
It must be all right, she realized. She still had her arms and legs, how else would she be able to kick and scratch?
She stopped screaming and opened her eyes.
Brandt was cradling her firmly in his huge arms, gathering her to his bare chest. His concerned face was only inches from hers, and he was speaking words of reassurance in that gentle murmur. His embrace was a revelation. Helena could never recall having felt so protected.
“Brandt, I…” she started to say.
He silenced her with a gentle finger to her lips.
“You don’t need to talk. I understand. I know all about nightmares.”
“Do you have them too?”
“Sometimes. Although to be honest, they’re not much different to waking reality, except in the dream the pain is fresher and more immediate.”
“I haven’t suffered like you have.”
“There are many different sorts of suffering. It’s the effect that matters more, how deeply suffering has scarred your soul. I lost my family, but they died with my name and their love for me on their lips. Soon I’ll join them in peaceful oblivion. I’m not sure my suffering is as deep as yours, whatever caused it.”
“You’d scorn me if I told you.”
“I doubt that. I’ve learned a lot about not judging others in these last few months. When you’re facing death every other day in the cage-fighting ring, motives and motivations are less important than immediate action.”
“Why did you take up cage-fighting?”
“At first for revenge. I wanted to stay alive in the hope of getting further opportunities to kill some of Schtum’s accomplices. I’ve always believed he didn’t make the decision to gas the J precinct alone. Then I stopped caring about them when I realized they were just manifestations of an inherently corrupt system. Even if I cut off its head it would grow a new one. So I decided to stop after I’d met and defeated Robson Greer.”
“Why Greer.”
“Because Greer was filth—a foul, violent criminal who’d rape and kill without compunction; but a criminal who was being turned by the media into some sort of anti-hero. I decided it was one small social service I could perform before cashing in my chips.”
His smile made his eyes sparkle, and small lines of good humor crinkled at their corners. Helena’s chest tightened pleasurably. She didn’t want this to end. His embrace was so secure. The warm musk of his skin re-awakened in her a deep desire for him. She wanted to keep him talking.
“So what brought you to my room?”
“Your screams were hard to ignore. I know you told me to keep out, but I thought the neighbors might complain.” He gave a boyish grin. “You must have forgotten to turn your proximity alarm on.”
“Okay, okay, don’t rub it in. You can’t blame me for saying that. I’ve never housed a murderer before.”
De Vos just smiled.
“Br
andt?”
“Yes, Helena?”
She took a breath, and committed herself to a declaration of sorts of her feelings for him. After all, he’d held her and made her feel safer than anyone had in years.
“I don’t want you to die.”
“Hush. We don’t need to talk about that right now. I’m very much alive. Let yourself rest.”
Satisfied she’d communicated at least a little of how she felt, Helena snuggled obediently against the warm skin of his chest. The adrenaline from the nightmare had worn off, to be replaced by a delicious lethargy. Brandt holding her in this non-sexual way was extraordinarily comforting. The security she felt made her think of what it had been like when she was a little girl and her parents had held her.
He was so big, and so strong, and he smelled so clean and felt so warm. It was wonderful to be around a real man, not some emotional cripple like Nigel. If only Brandt wasn’t a criminal. If only they could have longer together. If only…
Brandt smiled down at the woman who had fallen asleep in his arms. It felt good to have this sort of intimacy again. Sex was great, but true intimacy meant more than just physical pleasure. He’d go to his death with some good last memories, rather than just the procession of cruel faces of the violent men he’d killed in the cage-fight arena.
Helena gave a little sigh and snuggled more closely to him.
Brandt had to admit she was way better looking than Schtum, and certainly much more human. His eyes wandered over her body, as it lay turned towards him. In the throes of her fearsome dream she had kicked the covers off and her short black negligee had risen up. Her long, shapely legs stretched down the bed. He could see the smooth planes of her thigh as they climbed towards her hips and buttocks. God, he loved a woman’s legs. Perhaps they should make love properly at least one time before he was put to death. Did he want to? No, at least not now, not like this.
He looked again at Helena’s exposed thighs, but this time he noticed something he’d never seen before during any of the times they’d been naked together. His eyes narrowed. What was that? A tiny line, only visible when the light hit her skin at a particular angle. It was really nothing, not a scar even, just the smallest irregularity in the pattern of pores. The irregularity was so straight and so exact it aroused his curiosity.
Very gently he laid her back on the bed. She murmured, but didn’t wake. Adjusting a standard lamp so it illuminated her from that particular angle, he slowly hitched her negligee up until she was naked from the breasts down. Her body was as stunning as ever, but that wasn’t his concern. Sure enough, by looking closely he could make out another microscopically fine line encircling her other thigh. There were similar lines around her breasts, and below her neck, and around her upper arms.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
He jumped.
“Ah, sorry, I was just putting you to bed.”
“Bullshit. You were spying on me, weren’t you?”
Brandt was stung, and defensive. “No, I wasn’t spying, I simply saw something that piqued my curiosity. I didn’t mean you any harm.”
In a moment of painful clarity, Helena realized he had discovered her secret.
“Don’t lie to me De Vos. You think you’re pretty clever now don’t you? You can tell the whole world the Chief Sociologist is a mutant who has been cosmetically enhanced. Well don’t think you’re going to blackmail me. You may only have a few days left but by God I can make sure you suffer.”
“Threats don’t work on me Helena. As for your cosmetic surgery—I couldn’t give a shit! I was just seeking insight into what was making you suffer so much, and I’ve heard about full-body enhancements. In fact I know the Surgeon General has been thinking of making them illegal because of the damage they do to a patient’s psyche. You’re a case in point, I’d say.”
“You sanctimonious bastard. How dare you come in here and judge me, you who was born beautiful. Get out of my room and take your amateur psychoanalysis with you.
Tears of rage ran down Helena’s face. Without a word, Brandt turned on his heel and left. Racing after him, she slammed her door at his departing back.
Than she returned to her bed, where she wept for a very long time.
* * * * *
Brandt grimaced as the door slammed behind him.
“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
He was so angry, it was all he could do not to put his fist through the wall. He’d feared this would happen. Lowering his carefully prepared defenses was a fatal error. She’d got under his skin, and now he was paying for it.
“God dammit to hell!”
He slumped into a lounge chair. His anger dissolved as quickly as it had flared.
“I wish I were dead already. I can’t take any more pain,” he whispered to himself. He could hear Helena weeping. What a relief it would be to be able to let go all of his grief like that. But that couldn’t be. Not yet. Instead he tried to resurrect the mantra that had kept him alive. “I’m a dead man walking. I have no pain, fear, desire, or love—only hate.”
The words were bitter on his tongue. They represented the waking nightmare he’d lived since Schtum gassed the J7 precinct.
He regretted killing Schtum. That was when he’d died too. He’d been a man of peace. His training in the oriental arts had been to achieve harmony, not to become a killing machine. In a society where it was almost impossible to escape one’s birthplace, he’d been a beacon of hope to hundreds of thousands. He was the J7 boy who’d made good and hadn’t deserted his roots. The hero who’d come back as a fully fledged Hydro, just so he could help the people from his precinct.
“Some hero. I killed them. My arrogance and ambition drove Schtum to do what he did.” He pounded his fist once, hard, on his knee.
He deserved to die. He was ready to die. Living was the problem. It was life he wasn’t ready for. Living meant caring for another person. Living meant physical desire. Living meant vulnerability and grief. Living meant falling in love.
“I’m a dead man walking. I can’t afford such things.”
Brandt put his head in his hands. A tear splashed on the floor.
In the other room, Helena still wept.
Chapter Fifteen
Sunday passed in oppressive silence.
Helena elected to spend the day in her virtual office catching up on a backlog of work. Brandt did much the same as he had on Friday while she was working—prepared meals, read, and listened to music.
Alone in her office, Helena tried to concentrate, but her mind whirled with confusion. Brandt knew her secret. So what? Did it matter? Would he use it against her? He didn’t have much time left and why would he want to?
When things seemed like they couldn’t get any worse, the holophone rang. The caller ID indicated it was Nigel trying to communicate. Damn! He probably wanted to tell her where to send his things. She hit the receive button and Nigel’s three-dimensional image appeared in front of her.
“Hello, Nigel.”
He was a mess. He hadn’t shaved or changed his clothes since she’d evicted him and his eyes stared wildly. He was calling from his office at the university. He must be sleeping there.
“Hello Helena my dear,” he replied with oily politeness. “I thought it might be time for us to sort out our little misunderstanding. I realize now you were under a lot of stress on Thursday night, and I’m afraid I may have over-reacted.”
“Trying to kill me counts as more than an over-reaction, Nigel. There’s nothing to sort out. I don’t want to be with you anymore. Let me know when you have a new apartment and I’ll forward your things.” She reached to terminate the transmission.
“Wait, Helena! Don’t you dare cut me off. I deserve more respect than this.”
“You’ve already had more respect from me than you deserve Nigel, and you repaid it with contempt. I want nothing more to do with you.”
“Oh I see. Too busy fucking around with that murderer, are you? You show a distinct lack of judgment i
n my opinion.”
“Your opinion means nothing to me Nigel. Goodbye.” Her finger hovered over the ‘End’ button.
“Fine. Cut me off. I’ll make you sorry you were ever born.”
“The only thing I’m sorry about is that I ever met you. Don’t try threatening me, or harming me, because I’ll take you down too. You’ll be ruined and publicly humiliated.”
“You fucking mutant slut! I’ll fucking kill you and your male whore! I’ll get a knife and shove it so far up your…”
Click.
Helena put her head in her hands. Men! Were they genetically programmed to give a woman grief? Nigel looked set to be the bane of her life for years to come, while Brandt’s immediate presence meant the next four days would be one long trial. Well she couldn’t stay in her office anymore. It was too late, and she was too tired. Even worse, the day wasn’t over. She had an uncomfortable evening with Brandt to get through.
She walked through to the kitchen where another exquisitely prepared meal was waiting for her. Brandt wasn’t there; he was eating alone in the lounge.
Oh this is stupid! Helena thought to herself. She picked up her meal and walked through to the lounge also, taking a couch across from him.
“Thank you for preparing a meal for me, Brandt.”
“You’re welcome, Helena.”
“Have you had a good day?”
“Yes, I have. The chance to sit and read in peace has been an opportunity to treasure. How was your day?”
“Oh, quite busy, I feel rather weary.”
“Yes, so do I, even though I’ve done very little. I think I might go and have a shower and make an early night of it.”
He rose to his feet, smiled down at her politely, bade her a formal goodnight, and left the room.
Helena was stunned at his abrupt departure, and then thoroughly pissed off. Who the hell did he think he was, acting like they were nothing more than distant acquaintances and then walking out on her? For one thing, she’d won him in a cage-fight, and for another, she’d given him his first orgasm in a year. The least he could do was show her a little respect.