The Hallucigenia Project

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The Hallucigenia Project Page 7

by Darren Kasenkow


  “And that’s why things have to move a bit quicker. Say yes, and I’ll arrange for your visa clearance and will set up an account in your name to hold a few million. That way, I assume, you’ll become a little more interesting to them. As far as I can tell, you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

  Sitting there in a car with a busted window, an engine that was refusing to start and fresh divorce papers waiting to tear his life apart, John wondered if Sebastian wasn’t right. Technically speaking there really was little to lose, considering he was suddenly faced with the option of finishing the day with fifty thousand dollars making its way to his bank or head out into the rain with empty pockets. And empty pockets, he knew from experience, didn’t buy good quality cat food.

  The cold was beginning to creep into his bones. His heart ached for the marriage that had been shattered, and his mind whirled with the thought of jumping blindly into a job that was as crazy as it was guaranteed to fail.

  “I told you I can’t go anywhere without my cat.”

  “I’ve already got the arrangements in place. All I need is from you is the word, and this happens.”

  “A job like this doesn’t come with any concrete promises.”

  “I don’t want promises. I just want answers, whatever they might be.”

  “Do what you got to do and be at my house first thing in the morning.” As the words left his mouth they seemed to echo against the sound of the storm. “I’ll do the job.”

  He stuffed the phone back into his pocket, silencing any chance for Sebastian to reply. With the decision made he had little doubt he’d probably regret it in the long run, but the short run was the game he had to play. He stepped out into the cold and indulged in a solid kick against the tire, then with head down made his way to the corner supermarket several blocks down.

  A quick search and he found the aisle he was looking for. A distant sense of calm that seemed absurd considering the circumstances flickered to life as he grabbed at the expensive cans of tuna and cheese in white sauce. Next he located a small selection of pet blankets and quietly ran his fingers along the different textures until he found one he thought was good enough. With the reality of the trip growing stronger, he hunted down a fake diamond collar and matching lead. The next twenty four hours, he was sure, were going to be interesting.

  With his newly acquired goods wrapped tightly in a plastic bag he stepped out onto the street and waited several minutes until a cab crawled past and somehow spotted his arm waving in the rear view mirror. Out of spite he didn’t even offer a glance at his car from the back seat, mumbling his address before swallowing two of the blue pills and closing his eyes. By the time the gravel of his driveway crunched beneath the tires he could feel the anxiety beginning to retreat to a place of forced quiet and sinister planning for the eventual return.

  No words were spoken as he paid the fare and carried his treasure to the back entrance. Once inside he stripped out of the damp clothes and proceeded to spoon the tuna and cheese into Bobbie’s chrome bowl, the sound of his entrance having already awoken him from the slumber he’d enjoyed in the front room. John dropped to his knees and began to stroke Bobbie’s back as he gently attacked the sudden feast. When he had his fill they walked together into the lounge where John grabbed the blanket from the corner. With the warmth of the valium starting to hum its alluring tune he fell into the sofa and had just enough time to bring the blanket against his chest before his friend crawled up and rested his paws against his neck.

  “I don’t know if you’re going to be very happy with me mate,” John whispered while stroking the back of his ears, “but it looks like we’re taking a bit of a trip together. You don’t have to worry though, I’ll make sure you have everything you need.” Bobbie looked at him through tired, smoky blue eyes. From somewhere deep within his chest a gentle purr punctured the air. John savoured the vibration and the strange way it dulled the sharp edges of the thoughts that strived for anguish. “You know Bobbie,” he murmured through a dry mouth, “I can see the universe in those eyes.”

  Chapter 6

  Looking through the one way mirror that stretched floor to ceiling the blood seemed to sparkle beneath the low hanging lights. It was awash across the white tiled floor and was still fresh enough against the stainless steel walls that droplets slid and slithered as though searching for an escape.

  The old man lay lifeless upon his back. His eyes were open and bloodshot, his mouth slightly agape. Lines that only difficult years could bring were drawn tight across his cheeks and forehead, and his throat was torn open in a downward gash that exposed the organic network that had just minutes earlier pulsed with life. What was once a white gown now clung to his form wet and crimson red, a red that struggled to mix with the yellow urine that was pooling by his bare feet. A shimmering silver device clung to the top of his head.

  Candice Garland took a step closer towards the glass and narrowed her eyes with a twinge of disgust, but the revulsion was quickly overshadowed with curiosity as she struggled to make out the message that had been chaotically finger painted across the tiled floor. First the letters became legible and then so too did the words, all four of them.

  God knows your desire.

  Unlike the clinical yet blood soaked room, the area that Candice occupied was bathed in soft shadows that stretched along thick grey carpet and was a stark contrast to the scene on the other side of the mirror. Her viewing room held three leather chairs and a long desk that supported several monitors, behind which a thick steel door glowed beneath a pulsing red light. She was alone for the moment, but that wouldn’t last long. Something had gone wrong, and soon everyone would be looking for answers.

  Her eyes read the words over and over again as she retrieved a small band from her pocket and quietly pulled back her deep red hair, and with slender fingers she formed a small pony tail before crossing her arms against her chest. Her thin frame began to shiver against the cool of the air conditioning, causing the small scars on her left cheek and chin to dance in the shadows ever so slightly. She’d observed many strange events in her adult years, but never a man ripping open his own throat and using the blood for paint before expiring in a burst of gargles and red hued bubbles.

  The gruesome sight of the lifeless body left her unsettled, that much was certain, but clawing away at her insides was also the weight of the smeared words. Most likely of course was that the man they’d paid to take part in their research had been malfunctioning in the upstairs compartment, and yet the screening process was thorough and should have flagged him as unstable. Either way he was dead now, leaving her with no opportunity to find out why he’d chosen to bring God into the room.

  She released her arms so they fell to her sides and quietly hoped that the death wasn’t going to be wasted. It would be at least an hour, maybe even longer, before neural feedback signalling was translated and cross referenced against the data base that had been building for almost two years now. Sympathy on even the smallest of scales for the violence that had just taken place was probably warranted, but sympathy wasn’t a luxury that could be afforded when it came to the bigger picture.

  God knows your desire.

  Finger painted message from a madman or an attempt to communicate something important? Candice imagined the answer couldn’t really sit anywhere between, so with a slight shrug of her shoulders she let out a deep sigh and stepped away from the glass.

  Behind her the solid steel door slid open with a mechanical din. Rodney Melcovic appeared and moved slowly into the viewing room. In stark contrast to just about everyone else in the building he wore a faded Hawaiian shirt and deep blue jeans. Although he was three years younger than Candice he’d been working on projects since he’d turned fifteen, having been snapped up for his fiercely driven intellect by those who had spotted his potential. His heritage was both Eastern European and Chinese, with flawless skin across his face and brown eyes that seemed fascinated at all times making it an easy mistake to a
ssume he was a lot younger than he was. Now though, as he peered through the glass with hands on hips, his expression was nothing but serious.

  “How long after integration did it happen?” he asked without taking his gaze from the dead man.

  “About the seven minute mark,” Candice replied.

  “Then he was in deep enough.”

  “The data is already being translated so we’ll know for sure pretty soon, but yes, he was in deep enough.”

  “I wonder what it is you witnessed,” Rodney whispered against the glass.

  Candice stepped softly across the carpet and stood beside him. “We’ve still got another five scheduled sessions assuming they’ll go ahead. I have to be honest though, I’m not exactly holding my breath.”

  “If you’re worried about another death, don’t. Bodies on the floor might leave a bit of a mess but it’s a mess we might have to get used to. You and I both know what’s at stake.”

  “It’s not the blood on the floor that concerns me,” Candice said with a raised, clinical voice, “it’s the people making the decisions thinking we’re fucking things up and bringing in another team to take over.”

  Rodney turned and narrowed his eyes. “A valid train of thought, if there was another team. Truth is you’re stuck with me and the other technicians.”

  “I thought…”

  “What, that a project like this is up for the taking?” The smallest of laughs fell from his lips. “We both know what’s at stake. Hell, there’s no walking away from it now even if we wanted to. It’d just mean more bodies on the floor. Now,” he turned and pointed through the glass, “what do we make of this little message?”

  “You’re guess is as good as mine. First thing we need to do is cut him open and run a deep screen, eliminate any markers for neural compromises that could’ve been triggered and slice up his memory centre. That’s the problem with us humans, we’re good at hiding the dark that bubbles away in the deep.”

  “I checked the blood work,” Rodney declared. “It looked clean.”

  “It was clean,” Candice confirmed, “but biomarkers aren’t going to reveal synaptic damage that may have been lying dormant. For all we know he bumped his head when he was a kid and we’ve just fired up some broken connections. At least, that’s the doctor in me talking. Thing is, I’ve spent the last two days prepping him with questions and digging into his past. I learned about as much as you could about a person in that sort of time frame, and he made it pretty damn clear he didn’t have much care for any sort of religious belief. Reckons he’s only stepped inside a church two times in his life, the first time to get married to a woman that left him a year later, the second time to drop a rose into his mother’s coffin. The last guy was a massive heart attack, and judging by his brain activity before it blew he was pretty much a victim of overload.” She tapped at the glass. “But not this guy. This guy rips his damn throat apart and scrawls a message about God, even though God had nothing to do with him the whole time he was alive.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Rodney accepted, “maybe we are good at hiding things.”

  Candice took one last look at the old man before sinking back into one of the leather chairs. The tips of her fingers quietly drummed against the arm rests.

  “If it turns out there’s nothing to find in the wetware we’re going to have to dig deeper into the edge of zero,” she sighed.

  Rodney nodded in agreement. “You think God knowing our desires might be some sort of near death effect?”

  “It’s not a near death experience if you actually die.”

  “Maybe,” Rodney nodded, “but the experience we’re talking about is triggered at the very moment before death due to the brain assuming death, regardless of whether death actually follows or not. The edge of zero chemical dump would need to be triggered by a physical threat strong enough to convince the body it’s game over.” He offered a neutral, professional smile. “By the sounds of it you’re thinking something similar might’ve happened here.”

  “Well ripping out your own throat would qualify as a trigger.” Candice paused her finger drumming and began to smooth out the crinkles in her pants. “It’s an option on the table for now at least. But if his brain did let out one last display of fireworks, what is it that he saw? And if he did see something, was it before or after he grabbed at his windpipe?”

  “There’s a world of difference between the two options.”

  “Rodney, that’s an understatement wrapped up in an understatement. If it has something to do with feedback we’ll have tangible bread crumbs, maybe. If it has something to do with a shut down flood, those four words may lead us down a path that we may not be ready for. It’s not that it’s some sort of sign that there is a god, it’s that this god might know what we’re doing.”

  “Lucky then that we’re scientists and not preachers,” Rodney huffed, “and we only believe in those things bound in reality.”

  “Careful,” Candice said with a raised eyebrow, “reality may present a few surprises that force you to change your belief.”

  “I’m still a long way from crossing any bridges like that,” Rodney admitted.

  “Thing is, when you’re climbing a hill it’s hard to see what’s on the other side.” Her fingers once again drummed against the leather. “Let’s get the team in to clean up and get our friend in there on the table for an autopsy. I want to sit in on this one. In the meantime I’ll run the data and see what we have.”

  “And I’ll do some cross checking to see if anyone’s ever reported similar words from the edge of zero.” Rodney tilted his head and scratched at his chin. “Have you heard from him at all?”

  “Chris?”

  “Has anybody else gone and vanished with schematics that could change the world?”

  “No, I haven’t heard from him.” Candice narrowed her eyes in frustration. “You think I’d forget to tell you if I actually spoke with him?”

  “Just thought I’d ask.”

  “Yeah I know,” she said apologetically. “With a little luck maybe this will be the week he comes to his senses.”

  “Or sets the world on fire.” Rodney headed for the door only to pause at the last second. “Oh, I wanted to let you know the clearance for your parents is done. Of course they can’t know anything yet, but if and when the time comes they’ve got a place amongst the allocations.”

  “That’s great,” Candice replied, “really it is, but if the time does come I think I’m going to have one hell of a challenge convincing them to move three hundred floors beneath the ground.”

  “Considering the alternative it shouldn’t be too hard a choice to make.”

  His last word was muffled by the sound of the metal door sliding open. Candice caught a glimpse of the brightly lit corridor before it closed again and she was alone once more. Turning to her left the old man’s body was still glistened red. An entire life filled with experience and memories, hopes and fears, culminating in a violent exit on cold laboratory tiles that was triggered just days ago by the enticement of a cash payment. Thanks to the paperwork he’d signed, not even family or friends would know he’d taken his last breath, or where. Judging by the conversations they’d shared though, it probably wasn’t going to be a problem anyway.

  Corpse or no corpse, she needed a coffee. It was now closing in on thirty two hours since she’d last laid her head on a pillow and the real work had only just begun. The cleaning crew would be here any moment, so she guessed she had maybe ten or so minutes to hunt down the biggest cup she could find and get ready to cut him open. As for the jaggedly scrawled last will and testament that lay drying beneath the lights, it wasn’t something she wanted to think about just yet.

  Chapter 7

  Sitting on a busted old chair that had been on the porch when he’d moved in, John savoured the bitter promise of the coffee in his hand and watched as morning offshore winds caressed the approaching waves. For the first time in what seemed like forever the sky was blue, and
as the caffeine tickled his nerves he quietly came to the conclusion that whatever the day would bring, it would bring. There was no point thinking he had control of anything anymore.

  Just under an hour later, sipping on his second coffee and trying to silence his mind by staring at the swaying horizon, the day reached out for him. Flanked either side by middle aged men in silver coloured suits, Sebastian appeared at the gate and waved as though they were old friends. Jolted from his unplanned meditation, all John could do was grimace and raise his coffee cup as a form of acknowledgement.

  “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long,” Sebastian offered as he stepped up the house. Unlike his companions he was dressed as though he were about to play golf, except for the serious expression that gave his face a stone like sheen against the shifting morning sun. “To be honest I was worried you might have changed your mind, leave me knocking on your door like a fool.”

  “Who are your friends?” John asked, squinting for the sudden shift in focus.

  “Two of the best lawyers money can buy. They come with special skills you see, skills I thought appropriate for the matter at hand. There’s nothing to be worried about dear boy, they’re tasked with ensuring you’ll have everything you need. Best though we talk inside, don’t you think?”

  John peered up at the legal help. Both wore understated but obviously expensive sunglasses, but besides this and the suits they couldn’t have been more different. One had a buzz cut to reduce the pronounced balding and seemed to carry an extra chin like a well fed puppy, the other with sported chiselled features and a network of veins running up the side of his neck that indicated he still took pride in his biology.

  “Let’s go inside then,” John finally agreed, showing them into the living room.

  While they all took a seat he wondered if he should offer coffee but quickly determined he couldn’t be bothered. Besides, there was nothing social about this visit. Bobbie quietly sniffed the air and studied the visitors through smoky eyes before getting comfortable on his blanket. With soft chubby fingers the lawyer with the double chin clicked open a leather briefcase and proceeded to place a number of documents on the coffee table. Neither of them had yet to offer a word.

 

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