“That must’ve been horrible…”
“Horrible? It was days before I could be sure I wasn’t caught in some endless nightmare. Then, when I had no choice but to face up to the fact he was gone, I kept going to the park every morning and snapping off branches and all I could think about was where do the memories go? What happens to the record of our morning walks and youth inspired adventures?”
Candice could see still fresh pain simmering in his eyes. “For better or for worse, pets tend to be the first ones that teach us about life and death,” she offered quietly.
“The thing is though,” Rodney continued, “the weight of him on my chest never eased up. As I got older I became determined to find out what happens to the memories because without memories there’s no connection with existence. If Max no longer had memories and so no longer knew who I was, what’s the point in creating them in the first place? As far as a connection with existence goes, if he doesn’t know me now then technically he never did.”
“I hate to be the one to tell you,” Candice said, “but that’s less a scientific question than a nihilistic one. Good things come to an end, because you can sure as shit bet that a stint in eternity will dampen all that is unique and wonderful.”
“Eternity waits for us every night we fall asleep and yet the desire to jump into the abyss never waivers.”
“Then maybe death is nothing more than a dream to end all dreams.”
“I’ve often wondered the same thing,” Rodney replied. “Remember the experiments that were done back in the sixties? They’d take a patient and remove the top of the skull while they’re still awake, then gently insert an electrified wire thinner than a strand of air into a particular area of the brain. After a few seconds they would take it out, make sure the patient was still coherent, and do it again.”
“Of course I remember,” Candice assured him. “Even though the needle was inserted at the same site each time the patient would report a range of different memories, all vivid enough to take over their sight, sound and smell.”
“Exactly! If the experiments proved anything it’s that there’s no one local section in the brain that stores memories. They’re everywhere but nowhere unless you access them. I like to imagine it’s like an electron field racing around a neutron, never actually in a location until the field is interrupted. Lying on my chest that morning there was no more brain activity happening, so were the memories Max collected in life gone forever or was it simply as case of interruption? I became a scientist because I wanted to find out what happens to the memory field once the neural hardware no longer works.”
Silence crept in as the lights continued to flicker on the other side of the glass. Candice was both saddened by the story and surprised that he had chosen to reveal something so intimate. There was also a little suspicion too, because it was as if he were avoiding the original question. She figured the only real option she had was to maintain her desire for the truth.
“If you’re trying to cheer me up I should probably let you know it’s not working,” she said honestly. “I have to ask though Rodney, what made you want to tell me about Max?”
For the first time since stepping up to the window he turned to face Candice.
“Everyone has reasons for doing what they do, and everyone pays for their choice one way or the other. We like to think the world is black and white but that’s just two colours out of many. I’m here because I was given the chance to delve deeper into the workings of the mind than ever before, to try to understand where the memories lie. The opportunity though comes at a price.”
“Death has become the currency of the desire to know,” Candice declared.
“Death delivers the drive to discover where God went wrong,” Rodney answered. “You asked about bad blood and although I can’t give you the answer you’re looking for I can tell you there’s another code that’s been found, and this one isn’t in just any blood. Right now the vials are already being transported to a safe location. From what I can tell it’s a hidden sequence that seems to select people like serial killers and psychopaths as hosts, but don’t ask me what the sequence does because I don’t know.”
Candice shook her head with growing realization. “So that’s why I got sent criminals and damaged goods for the research, to see if the device revealed if they were a carrier somehow.”
Rodney slowly nodded with guilt flushed cheeks. “A few days ago I would have said you were wrong, but now the reality has shifted. The truth is Candice, I convinced myself that signing my life over to the government was a strategic move to do what I can’t do in the private sector, but knowing what I know now I wish I never walked into that interview room. There’s nothing I can do to change anything anymore, but what I can do is tell you to walk away from this whole thing and find somewhere safe where the ones pulling the strings can’t find you. Walk away now before it’s too late.”
The warning fell heavy in the air. That it was a dark and strange declaration was an understatement, especially considering Candice was sure that now she’d told him of her journey in the device he should have wanted a detailed debriefing of what had happened. And what about the bad blood? If Rodney was telling the truth then it had already been removed from the facility, but that would also mean its existence was confirmed which meant her telepathic meeting with Talitha wasn’t just some bizarre dream like trip with no grounding in reality.
Her thoughts began to accelerate. He had said that the vials were already in transit but as far as she knew the standard protocol was to store pouches of blood taken from the fresh corpses prior to locking the fluid stripped bodies into the chrome refrigerators. Maybe, just maybe, the morgue hadn’t been cleaned out yet.
“If I didn’t know better,” she said, “I’d think you’re telling me the people in charge aren’t too nice and that there’s a lot more going on than cracking the meaning of the device and the small matter of the end of the world.”
“I’m a scientist Candice, not a chess player, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know when I’m being played. Hell, when we’re being played. Destruction is on the way no doubt about it, and I’m not so sure that’s the worst of it.” He seemed to snap out of the self contemplation with a jerk of his shoulders and a sudden, stern expression. “It’s my job to ensure you remain with the team from here on in, to make sure you’re part of the transport to the second stage facility. The truth, as uncomfortable as it sits, is that what happens from here has less to do with science and more to do with strange, horrible politics. You could say my soul has already been traded to the devil, but I don’t want to be responsible for the corruption of yours. They may try to find you, and they may threaten you with harm to ensure the knowledge you’re holding is locked down and those threats won’t be without substance, so until the city comes tumbling down I’d suggest keeping your head way down.”
“Why Rodney,” Candice whispered, “why are you doing this?”
“Because my mistake and mistrust doesn’t belong to you. You became a scientist for the same reason I did, to search for some kind of meaning. There’s nothing to be found on the path I’m taking but regret and horror, so this is where our paths break away.”
“So what the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“Get out while you still can. The buses start arriving in just under two hours which means this whole place will be locked down within the hour. As far as I’m concerned we never had this conversation and I never saw you, so get out of here.” He stepped back to the computer and then turned to look at her one last time. “It’s funny isn’t it? We’re on the cusp of the greatest discovery our species has ever known and the price we pay is devastation. No matter what happens, please know I came into this with good intentions.”
The conversation was clearly over. Candice felt as though there was something more she should say but her lips held only silence, and as she looked through to the lab knowing it was for the last time the message was loud and clear. Stay much longer and
she’d be shipped to another underground facility with little to no chance of leaving, perhaps even of living. Head back to the surface and it would become a game of survival. More than anything she wanted to feel John’s touch, to allow the illusion that there was some kind of safety in his arms, but first there was something she needed to do.
The morgue was two floors down. There was a nervous moment when she scanned her hand on the elevator panel but her access seemed to still be effective, and there was a distinctive accelerating of her heart as the steel box made the descent. She hated the morgue. There was a constant stink of disinfectant mixed with the scent of meat and the feeling that bitter energy was trapped within the walls. It was a sterile temple of death to be sure, a temple that housed no trace of dignity.
Unlike the other floors the elevator doors opened straight into the room, with a dissection table resting in the centre and a second elevator on the far side used for transporting the bodies. The walls to the left and right held the refrigerated capsules filled with the corpses of the expendables, the polished metal handles reflecting the blue lights that lit up the room. A woman in a blood splattered white coat in the process of pulling down charts from the wall turned to face the sudden guest with a whip of her head, obviously startled by the sudden intrusion. Candice had seen her before but couldn’t put a name to the face.
“I thought you might be security,” the woman said. “I’ve been here all morning waiting for the bodies to be removed but now they’re being left where they are so I was just locking things down. Is there something I can do for you doctor?”
“There’s been an incident in one of the computer labs,” Candice lied. “Security sent me here to let you know we’re all meeting in the comms room on level Bravo. We need to go now.”
“But I haven’t heard anything,” the woman exclaimed with a puzzled look.
“That’s why they sent me. I’ll explain more when we head on up.”
“I still haven’t finished…”
“No time I’m afraid. Things are moving quickly.” Candice was surprised at how convincing she sounded. “Come on, they’ll be waiting for us.”
She could see the woman trying to make sense of what was happening and gritted her teeth in the hope she didn’t let suspicion drive a call to someone on the upper floors. If that happened then her chances of making it back up to the surface would become a whole lot slimmer. The idea may have crossed her mind, but an exhausted resignation creased the edges of her eyes and confirmed a decision had been made.
“Fine,” she sighed, “but they can send someone else back down if they need anything because things are quickly becoming very unprofessional and I don’t like it one bit.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Candice said with relief as she watched the woman grab a small pile of folders and march towards the elevator with the sound of her high heeled shoes clicking against the tiles like cracking ice.
Together they stepped into the elevator, with an air of discomfort forming as the woman in the blood splattered coat continued to stare at Candice with uncertainty. It looked as though there were something on the tip of her tongue, but just as the doors began to close Candice hopped back into the morgue.
“I just remembered something they wanted me to do,” she stammered. “You go on up. I’ll be just a few minutes.”
“But I’m not supposed to…”
The doors sealed closed and the silence of the cold and dead rushed her senses. Time was suddenly compressed and precious, and considering she had no plan or well thought out strategy it was a case of simply moving from one dangerous minute to the next. So with chaos simmering along the edges of the unknown she ran to the wall and began to slide out the naked, blue tinged corpses to study their expressionless faces that revealed nothing in the way of having succumbed to death, life’s most mysterious feature.
What was she looking for? She had no idea but clung to the hope that an answer would reveal itself before the silence was broken by the sound of boots cracking down on the tiles. The muscles in her arms grew tighter as she continued to pull out the ice cold coffins, some of the faces bringing instant recognition but the majority being subjects from other labs that had hosted their passing. With the last of the moisture leaving her mouth she ran to the opposite wall and continued the ceremonial unveiling.
Her arms were beginning to struggle now and she wondered if she shouldn’t just get the hell out of there while there was still a chance, but upon opening the third drawer her mouth fell open and body froze. The man staring up at her through lifeless eyes was both repulsive and threatening, regardless of the fact his heart had long stopped beating. It wasn’t so much the freshly shaved head or scowl that seemed carved in stone but the jagged ink that decorated his flesh.
A black and red demon mid scream covered his scalp and announced to the world that he hadn’t concerned himself with first impressions, and as far as artistic merit was concerned it was about the only thing on his body that came close. Nazi inspired lightning bolts had been carved beneath each eye, and across his forehead was the almost unreadable phrase Death Is My Middle Name. The irony wasn’t lost, but then considering the circumstances there was also something a little poetic in the bad lettering.
The intentional scarring was already enough to wonder what would drive someone to do that to themselves, but it was hardly all there was. On his cheeks were crude tear drops and barely legible daggers, and his entire chest was covered in what could only be described as random geometric shapes, flame drenched skulls and the faded outlines of naked women in various torturous poses, including one particularly nasty image of a victim having her vagina split open with a jagged sword.
Candice took a step back and realized she’d been holding her breath. The markings on the face, the declaration on the forehead, they belonged only to one man and though she had never met him, she sure as hell knew who he was. It was pretty hard not to considering his face had dominated the news the previous summer and had left gun store shelves empty all across the city.
George Dragonovich, otherwise known as the Miami Monster. By the time he was captured after a routine traffic stop had turned into a shootout when the cop noticed a blood soaked scalp resting on the passenger seat leather, he’d raped, murdered and dismembered twenty three women, with the strong belief there was probably more. His execution was never in doubt so how, Candice wondered, did he wind up here? Who the hell would risk bringing an animal like him into the facility, and what was so fucking important that the risk was worth it?
Against every fibre of her being she stepped back up to the corpse. If ever there was a case for bad blood, this was it. With a yank of the handle she dragged the steel coffin out further to read the number on the toe tag, and that’s when she saw it. In thick black cursive across the base of his abdomen with ink fresher than anywhere else on his body was another set of words.
God knows your desires.
Candice studied the declaration to be sure her mind wasn’t playing tricks as the blue light of the morgue seemed to squeeze down around her. Okay, she thought, now I’m getting the fuck outta here.
She ran to a glass faced fridge back on the other wall, running her fingers along a multitude of slots until she found the number corresponding to the Monster’s toe tag. With a grip of a steel clip she slid out a small tray that held several vials of blood, stuffed two into her pockets and was suddenly aware of the elevator doors beginning to open. Adrenaline rushed through her veins as she jumped into the service elevator and slammed her palm against the panel, sweat pooling at the back of her neck. On the other side of the room the woman with the blood splattered coat appeared with a bulky security officer by her side, confusion on their faces obvious as they observed all the bodies that were now exposed.
“I’m gonna need you to step back out,” the officer yelled with a professional tone that none the less left no room for discussion.
“I’m sorry but I can’t do that,” Candice replied, watch
ing the officer begin to sprint towards her as the doors closed and the journey up began.
She could feel the beating of her heart on the inside of her skull. There was no way she was just going to walk back out onto the streets now, that was for sure, and there wasn’t a chance in fucking hell that she could explain why she’d raided the morgue for a couple of vials of blood. No doubt about it, she was in a real bad situation.
Desperate thoughts were struggling to come up with desperate options as the slow ascent continued. No doubt they’d be waiting on the ground floor for her but there was no point going anywhere beyond street level. What was she going to do, whip together a rope and rappel her way down? Claustrophobia was starting to kick in and she could feel her hands beginning to shake, but somehow a thought began to take shape.
Her hand shot out and slammed the button just in time, and seconds later when the ascent came to a halt the doors slid open to reveal a medical library that she’d spent many an hour drowning in neuroscience findings and hypothesises. Just as she had hoped the room was empty and silent, and with a little luck she had a few moments before someone bothered to check the camera feed.
There was no time for hesitation. She ran to the shelving and began grabbing book after book, frantically tearing pages and throwing the painstakingly researched volumes into a heap on the floor. The sweat was soaking into her shirt now and once the book pile was impressive and chunks of the shelves empty she ran to one of the expensive lamps that brought a soft atmosphere to an otherwise sterile room.
With slippery fingers she ripped the power chord from the brass base and dropped to her knees where some of the torn pages had settled. Scrunching the paper into balls she then wiggled the exposed wiring until sparks crackled at the touching tips. It took a few attempts but finally the paper began to smoulder then flame. Nervously, she cradled the growing ball of fire to the sad pile of once great books and coaxed it as close to the centre as she could before the heat drove her hand back with a snap.
The Hallucigenia Project Page 53