Sky City (The Rise of an Orphan)

by RD Hale

  Braced for further torture I feel a soothing coolness nullify residual burning in nerve endings. When the agony is completely gone a sleepy warmth takes its place with the ends of lips curling upwards. This is called a smile. I remember now. A smile. It feels nice to be happy and my negativity was so irrational. I admire the dark lady dressed in her regalia and smile because she kindly taught me that gratitude comes with reward. A lack of this quality is sinf... I... feel fuzzy... cosy... dreamy...

  'Th-thank you.'

  'You're welcome, Mr Basilides. Or would you like me to call you Arturo?'

  'Ar-tu-rooo?'

  'So we're on first name terms now. Does this mean we're friends?'

  'Fr-friends?'

  'Wonderful. Friends. Okay, I need you to think really hard. I need you to tell me one or two things. Can you tell me who you work for? I need names.'

  'Work for? Erm.'

  'The rebellion, Arturo. Who is the person you report to?'

  'Oh the rebellion? I remember. He was...Erm... Ja... Jar...'

  'Yes?'

  'Jardine. He was called Jardine. He's a bad man. He tricked me.'

  'Jardine eh? Do you have a first name for this Jardine.'

  'I don't know.'

  'You would not be lying to me, would you Arturo?'

  'No we're friends.'

  'Maybe it's just your memory. Maybe I should try and jog it for you. Remind you who you are. Don't worry. This won't hurt... much.'

  My friend pulls out a shiny, sharp thing and I feel a warm trickle as she places it on my belly. I watch as she drags the instrument towards my groin where skin opens like a book but this time it is really happening. My head jerks backwards, slamming against the bed and I lie motionless as cold air rushes in and burns raw flesh like acid. 'Earrrghhhh!' She cuts the other way and I try to scream again but cannot. Every muscle inflates and individual fibres rupture in desperation. I just want to move, just want to fight. What is this feeling? Afraid. So afraid.

  'That wasn't nice, was it Arturo? Shall we be friends again?' She turns to tamper with the device and I am caressed by a softness like fluffy pillows, no... clouds. I feel such pleasurable comfort floating amongst rainbows with an indulgent smile, daring to giggle in a moment of giddiness.

  'Argh!' Laughter - not a good idea. Insides are still sore but eyes smile at a merciful friend. My saviour who alleviated the default state of pain with a loving revelation of divinity.

  'Now Arturo, it seems I need to jog your memory. Why don't you look down again?'

  Chin meets clavicle as my gaping mouth expels air from my chest. 'Urgh! Urgh!' Open skin flaps on my belly reveal wires, plastic tubes and metal parts in place of internal organs. I am no longer a person, just a thing. And I was never told the price of survival but it is too much. I just want this hideous monstrosity to be buried in the dirt. Buried dead or alive.

  'What? What?'

  'Don't you remember? You were their little experiment. Half boy, half monster. Horrific, isn't it? They did this to you. Now can you see why we're so interested? If you want me to help you further I need you to think hard. Tell me everything you know. Where this all started. What you've done. What you plan to do.'

  'He paid us. Thousands of credits. We stole guns for him, then he asked us to install a virus in the college. He needed us to pretend to be college kids. He said we weren't going to hurt anyone.'

  'He asked you to steal guns and you believed he didn't intend to hurt anyone? Do you know how many people died in that rocket attack? Four hundred and sixteen innocent people. Ninety one children. Now do you understand why you're a wanted terrorist? Here's the situation, Arturo. One way or another you are going to be executed for your crimes, but you have a choice. If you co-operate and tell me everything I need to know I will make sure it is pain free. If you do not then what you've experienced so far will be nothing... But at least you won't be alone.'

  'Wh-wha-what do you mean?'

  'Your friend. Mila, I believe. We're already acquainted. Maybe I'll let her go first. You can have a front row seat.'

  'No. No. No. Please. No...'

  Extreme agony commences as flames flicker in my abdomen, before swelling to scorch every remaining cell and artificial part in my botched framework and this scream proof cell fills with fire, the raging inferno which I have been condemned to for my blasphemy. I was tricked into believing forgiveness was a possibility but there can be no escape from now until forever. A flaming skull unleashes a demonic roar of laughter into my tormented face but I continue to splutter my words:

  'No, please no! Don't hurt her. She's done nothing wrong, please. Do whatever you want to me. Let her go. Torture me again. Please torture me again. I'll tell you everything. Torture me for her. EARGH-ARGH-ARGHHH!'

  Pain violates body parts which should now be ash as they are twisted by invisible machinery. Muscles, skin, twisted, twisted and twisted again. Every bone crunches, crumbling into rubble. This body is both a wreck and somehow intact so I can relive this torment in a never-ending cycle.

  But then... coolness leads to pleasurable smiling, such a wonderful relief... This extraordinary person is sparing a wretched being from torment and is worthy of inexpressible gratitude. I am gifted peacefulness and lucidity, accompanied by sunshine and palm trees as I float on a beautiful lagoon. An undeserved taste of paradise, erasing the misery of my previous existence. A lovely gift from my dear friend. And if I remain obedient, maybe I can stay forever.

  It all makes sense now. All I had to do was surrender to their will, to be the person they wanted me to become in spite of this challenging design. I just had to resist the evilness prevalent in the mind of a sinner. This was an essential demonstration to commence the dissolution of my ego.

  'Thank you.'

  'Arturo, are you ready to tell me everything?'

  'Yes. I work for a man called Jardine. I met him through another man called Turbo. He took us to meet Jardine at Underworld, he's also got a hideout in the mountains - I've been there. He told me he's got hideouts in many places. Many identities. Friends all over the world. Allies amongst fragmented enemy forces. He told me about the purge. The disease. About mind-control. He said we're fighting for our future.'

  'Purge? Mind-control? The rebellion do have effective mind-control techniques, but what surprises me is how they persuaded you to participate in the purge. Why would you kill your own people?'

  'Participate in the purge? What are you talking about? I would never participate in your purge. We were trying to stop it.'

  'This Jardine is more manipulative than you realise. Arturo, the purge was nothing to do with us. It was the work of the rebellion. They need to weaken our main source of recruitment.'

  'That can't be true, I saw the droids. Droids were everywhere in the slums. I've never seen so many. Then everybody became sick.'

  'You think the rebellion don't have droids? They've been working on bio-terrorism for years, but they haven't quite mastered it. The reason the plague didn't kill more is because we managed to stop it. If you want us to save more lives, you have to tell me what they're planning.'

  'If that's really the case then why say it was a punishment from the goddess?'

  'Because we believe it was a punishment. They only have this technology because the goddess allowed them to obtain it, but she also provided us with a cure. We will win this battle so long as we are worthy. We will right our wrongs and defeat those who fight against the forces of truth, honour and justice. If you acknowledge a terrorist you play into their hands. A terrorist's most effective weapon is not death, it is fear.'

  'They say they can bring your missile defences down at will. I think they're planning further rocket attacks. They're also planning a propaganda campaign by flooding the web with the info they've obtained. All the dirt, the scandal, your secrets. They're planning on bringing your droids down with EMPs. Then the troops are gonna move into every city. They're heavily armed now. Their first step is this station.'

  'W
hat do you mean this station?'

  'It's their main target, your control centre. As far as I know they're going to blow it. Could be any minute now.'

  'This is not a deception, is it Arturo? A futile attempt at distraction.'

  'No, I had to come to rescue Mila before they blew the place. I did not know they were planning this until recently. I did not want this. I did not want to kill.'

  'We need to stop this. Do you know how many people could-'

  The lights of the torture cell go out and in pitch blackness X-ray sight is re-activated as I feel a sudden release. The forcefield is gone and these powerful arms can flex once again. Transparent abdomen skin flaps as I touch mechanical viscera with a sense of disbelief. Every human part has been replaced and if I am no longer the person I was born as, I am not sure what the implications will be, or whether I want to live. Nevertheless I have a mission to fulfil.

  Brink of Disaster

  The cell door is wide open and I revert to optical vision as red light flickers in the darkened corridor. Delirium settles as I plant both feet and strands of rationality are slowly regathered... My frie... My tormentor steps back, suddenly fearful now the tables have turned. A degree of admiration lingers despite the lack of survival benefit and although distressed by what she has allowed me to endure I cannot harm a hair under her hood.

  'Self-destruct in twenty minutes. Abandon station. Self-destruct in t...'

  'Are you going to hurt me?' the elite asks.

  'It's starting. Can you over-ride it?'

  'I know the over-ride codes, I should be able to.'

  'I'm coming with you. We have to stop it, I'll help in any way I can.'

  The elite leads through the corridor to a room with spinning red lights which provide unwanted glimpses, hideous sights of tubes filled with people cut open, creatures dissected and body parts suspended in fluid. A fist hammers on glass and I peer in horror as a skinless human stares pleadingly but there can be no helping this unfortunate soul. I am led through these disturbing chambers of experimentation into the station proper where families flee, screaming.

  'Lead us to the control room,' the elite says.

  A sign appears: Elevators deactivated. This way to emergency walkway.

  Before this uncomfortable alliance can take another stride, our feet lift off the cobblestones of an unbefitting residential area. Pond water rises into the air, taking fish out of their element as we hover alongside homes of medieval design. The holographic sky flickers, revealing pipework and all around us humans and droids flounder in zero gravitational chaos. Flapping arms are rendered useless but still attempt to steer until artificial gravity reasserts its force and together we crash down.

  'The grav control is malfunctioning, we have to be quick.'

  The elite rises, unfazed and we weave through stragglers, many still climbing to their feet, hurt and disorientated. Exposed insides attract looks of terror, adding to the frenzy as Citizens are led into bottle necks by evacuation signs. We rush through an archway where the floor curves into a metal wall which we run up and the wall becomes the floor of an emergency tunnel connecting various sections.

  Reaching the far end of the tunnel our perspective shifts from down to forward as a sloping hole at our feet becomes an entrance indicated by a red arrow on the floor/ wall. The elite and I cross a floor of black and red tiles, reaching a security door with a half-hexagon frame of thick steel. It is wide open to aid evacuation and my visual cortex flick to X-ray mode as we enter, navigating partitioned desks.

  Another corridor leads to the open blast doors of a control room and the interior contains two sets of stairs which reach a raised platform with a wall-sized monitor. The elite hits illuminated keys on a large console which still has power, bringing up reams of text on screen. Semi-recognisable symbols are written in the archaic language of Armadien which every school student is supposed to learn at an early age.

  'This should take about thi-'

  As the elite inputs the deactivation code we become weightless. Long, slender fingers reach for the console to stop her feet lifting from the floor, but there is nothing grabbable and she drifts like a balloon.

  'If I reach a wall I can push myself back towards the console.'

  Bending legs, I adjust to propel from the nearby surface and moments from contact I plunge onto the steel floor, but these new knees are robust enough to absorb the impact. The elite is sprawled jaggedly on the stairs and she could tumble head first at any attempted movement. X-ray sight confirms her spine is broken, but I grab her dress to stir her into consciousness and utilise what are potentially her final minutes to save lives.

  'What is the code? I need to stop it. What's the rest of the code?'

  'Kappa two one. Eta three five. Epsilon four seven. Delta nine one. Phi four four,' she gasps and I approach the console with the burden of several million innocent lives resting on my shoulders As I scan for recognisable keys my forearm is gripped by a small but powerful hand. The owner of this hand is identified by intuition before I have even turned around. As dreamt another family member is back from the dead, but this reprieve could equal further complication.

  'It seems we are psychically connected, thanks to your nanite contamination.'

  'Killow!'

  'Hello, Arturo. Do you mind telling me what you are doing here?'

  'Trying to prevent a catastrophe. Help me type this, we need to stop the self-destruct sequence. Kappa two one - do you know which symbols to press?'

  'Yes, Kappa two one. Next.' Killow taps keys on the console.

  'Eta. It may be E or H, I get mixed up,' I mutter.

  'Hhhhh,' the elite gasps.

  'Epsilon must be E. I know Delta is that one and I think Phi is that one,' I say.

  'It is.' Killow presses the key.

  As I press four four and turn to the crippled elite for further guidance she grimaces and her energy seems to be fading, but if she cannot finish her sentence the vacuum of outer space will be our final resting place.

  'Sigma three four. Omicron one seven,' the elite whispers.

  'Wait! Don't press,' I instruct.

  'What do you mean - don't press?' Killow glares as though ready for transhuman confrontation.

  'The dreams, the visions I've had - they've all come true. They warned me, they said the signs would be there. I saw the number seventeen and it all ended in a big explosion.'

  'Arturo, this is the code to stop the sequence. I'm pressing it,' Killow insists.

  'No wait. What if they've programmed it to bring forward the detonation? The rebellion wouldn't make it that easy. They've already messed with the grav control, they want casualties. I can't explain but the number seventeen is tied to my fate - it cannot be ignored. Omicron Seventeen was Dynah's designation but I almost ignored her. I must be right. We need to find Mila now!'

  'You're on your own, Arturo. Get out while you can.'

  Killow carries the elite over his shoulder and they disappear in a blur. Without wasting another second I rush off to search for the laboratory cells, despite the likelihood of rescuing Mila being close to zero. These new legs are put to the test, reaching one hundred and twenty one point six miles per hour, but I stop in my tracks to double-take four miraculously familiar faces heading in my direction as though guided by a sixth sense.

  'Arturo!' they yell.

  'Dynah! Mila!' I gasp.

  The irrepressible Anguson and steadfast Turbo are escorting two equally courageous girls, clutching laser rifles. Mila seems expectedly weary as she uses the cage fighter's arm as a crutch, but her distressed condition at the brink of disaster could not be a more welcome sight.

  I have no idea how they found m... actually there is a tracking chip, I can feel it in my brain. Jardine injected my neck but clearly did not consider the enhancement of my senses when he upgraded this body. His deception may have saved Mila's life so I postpone the demand for answers to complete the task of returning her to terra firma.

  'Arturo
, we have no time. We need to get to an escape pod,' Turbo urges.

  'My Goddess.' Mila stares at my abdomen to see alterations which mean she can never perceive me in the same way again, but the synthetic zombie posing as her former best friend represents her best chance of survival.

  As we follow emergency arrows through a tunnel I could get Mila to safety in a fifth of the time by abandoning these sluggish humans, but we are only in this position because of their loyalty so we are honour-bound to live and die together - no matter how irrational that may sound.

  'TERRORISTS! Die you bastards,' a voice booms as apemen emerge through one of the tunnel's access points.

  Dynah's eyes glow red and an ever-reliable fireball swirls above her head, engulfing the apemen who howl in agony as they roll to extinguish burning uniforms. A whiff of smouldering flesh invades nostrils as we pass them, turning a corner to be greeted by an inaccurate burst of phaser fire. We backpedal as Turbo returns fire from cover and X-ray eyes see a pair of apemen flop to the floor.

  'Why aren't they evacuating with everyone else?' Anguson asks.

  'They're brainwashed puppets,' Turbo replies.

  We continue into a network of conventional corridors and I scan for movement, fixating on apemen prowling beyond the wall. Hearing an almighty whack I turn back to see Anguson hurtling through the air, ambushed by the strongest blow which has likely ever struck him.

  A towering apeman stands chest to face with Mila and I respond too slowly as the back of his fist clubs her delicate face, causing her legs to crumple. Enraged, I smash the brute against the wall and blurring fists sink into fragmenting ribs until he slumps to the floor; his mouth leaking blood.

  A quick X-ray scan reveals a fractured jaw and swelling on Mila's brain so I haul her over my shoulder as Anguson gets back to feet. Discounting his weapon he drops the last apeman with an uppercut as a matter of pride and wobbles his battered head.