Paradeisia: The Complete Trilogy: Origin of Paradise, Violation of Paradise, Fall of Paradise

by B. C. CHASE

  Wesley felt a needle puncture his arm.

  “I am inoculating you with an antidote. You have nothing to fear.”

  Wesley was deeply disturbed. His mother had died of something that looked like rapid aging. And the guy on the street. So it was all orchestrated by the Centers for Disease Control? Stopping a virus with another virus that killed people? That didn’t seem right.

  “Now, Wesley, how do you feel? Any discomfort?”

  “I want my clothes.”

  “Sorry, that’s not possible. You are implanted with over one hundred sensors.”

  “Why?”

  “No questions, please. Now, we may begin. Please start the recorder. Thank you. This is Doctor Phillip Compton, Director of the CDC. Abael Fiedler has authorized this study as part of the IPP, as specified in H.R. 3162 passed on March 23rd, 2033. Today we continue our experimentation in order to localize the biological receptors of metaphysical stimuli.

  “This is trial number NSDAP 5.574.974. I will now read the abstract.

  “Science now understands that Homo sapiens, other mammals, and perhaps even additional classes of animals, exist in two plains: the physical and the metaphysical. Observations have been made that prove the existence of metaphysical connections between individual humans as well as humans and other species. For example, a man dies in an accident and his canine companion miles away becomes disturbed the instant the man dies, and won’t eat for days. Until recently, no experiments had been performed which could provide a more concrete and scientific comprehension of this metaphysical connection between individuals, yet it is suspected that with the knowledge that experimentation will provide, the human race will be empowered beyond the merely physical or biological. We will be able to control metaphysical properties that could potentially unleash a windfall of new advancements in science and human achievement. It is believed that these advancements are required in order to counteract the threat that, as we currently understand it, is certain to totally decimate our species. Thus this research is necessary not merely for the sake of science, but for our survival.

  “For experiments which should provide this understanding and control, we are continually seeking individuals who have clearly displayed that unique metaphysical connection with another being. Such individuals prove invaluable for trails such as these. For today’s trial, we have two subjects, a male and a female. We clearly observed a distinct and inordinately strong emotional connection between these two subjects. Each was dramatically affected by the expressed suffering of the other. This makes them ideal. The female subject, Kelle Kessler, to be known as Subject One, is an African American approximately thirty years of age. She is lying ten feet away from the male subject, Wesley Peterson, to be referred to as Subject Two, a Caucasian male approximately thirty years of age. Their heights, weights, and other statistics have been logged in their files. They are both restrained on examination tables which are bolted to the floor. Approximately one hundred nano sensors have been implanted in each of the subjects.

  “These sensors measure macrobiological activity, such as temperature and heart rate, and also microbiological activity from a cellular level, such as rates of ATP synthesis and hormonal release. The sensors’ main purpose, however, is to localize the sites at which the greatest concentration of emotive response occurs.

  “The metaphysical being is acting on the physical body; that much is clear. We intend to find out where that interaction takes place and, if possible, how the connection is made between the metaphysical being and the physical body’

  “Ah,” Doctor Compton’s voice moved away, “Subject One is regaining consciousness.”

  There was silence, then Wesley heard a terrified pant and a bang on metal. If Kelle was there, he wanted to reassure her, so he shouted, “Kelle!”

  “Wesley?” she shrieked.

  “Quiet, please!” Doctor Compton yelled. Then he proceeded with an even tone, “Our immediate, tangible goal is to measure the effect that the suffering of one subject has on the other. We also intend to determine if a direct metaphysical link between any of the internal organs of the subjects may be detected.

  “To begin, we will incise the abdomen of the female, clamp and excise tissue, harvest the ova, and suture the lesion. We will then proceed with simulations of psychological abuse and sexual stimuli upon the female. All the data provided by the sensors in both subjects will be recorded. Depending upon the immediately extrapolated results of these exercises, we will proceed with additional stimuli. Because we do not wish to trigger the fatality of the female until the conclusion of the experiment, we will endeavor to inflict pain via minimally damaging means, such as burning and laceration. To conclude the experiment, we will artificially stop and quickly resuscitate the heart of the female through multiple iterations. Ultimately, we will starve the brain of oxygen until the female has lost cognitive function but is still living. We will determine if the metaphysical connection between both subjects exists at this stage by exploitation of the male to determine if the female expresses any reaction. Finally, we will allow the total loss of life in the female and make observations. The male will then be a likely candidate for incorporation into the IP through programming.

  “We will now begin. On Subject One, the female, please use the scalpel to make the abdominal incision below the navel.”

  Wesley heard the blade being lifted from a tray about ten feet away. He heard Kelle starting to whimper and struggle against her bonds.

  Wesley bellowed at the top of his lungs, “YOU CAN’T DO THIS! DON’T DO THIS!”

  Kelle was thrashing against the metal table. Wesley roared “NOOO!” as he used all his strength to try to raise his arms, tortured by a long, gut-wrenching scream from Kelle. But he could not free himself.

  Kelle’s desperate thrashing suddenly ceased and she sharply inhaled, whimpered, inhaled.

  Doctor Compton said matter-of-factually, “Use the pad, please, for the blood. Now, wait.” Suddenly he said, “Stop. Stop.” Something slammed down on a hard surface.

  “This is wrong. Do you hear that?”

  Another voice said, “I think something’s in the building.”

  Indeed, Wesley heard distant noises reverberating from the walls.

  Doctor Compton groaned, “Let’s go see what is going on. This place is such a Zoo.”

  A door was opened, allowing light into the room which Wesley saw had a very high, black-painted ceiling consisting of I-beams and lined with pipes and ducts. Shadows passed over the ceiling as people left the room. The door slammed shut. Kelle was still whimpering.

  “Kelle?” Wesley called. “Did they hurt you?”

  Her whimper turned into a cry and then she took a calming breath, “No. I think I’m okay.”

  Wesley breathed a deep sigh of relief.

  “They’ll come back,” Kelle whined, terror strangling her voice. “They’ll come back!”

  Wesley knew it was true. He again struggled to free his arms, but to no avail. Twisting his hands so his palms faced up, he touched the metal braces that encircled his wrists. Tracing them with his fingers to the spots where they entered the metal table, he realized that the braces were likely bolted from underneath. It would be impossible to reach the bolts, or whatever was securing them.

  “Wesley.”

  “What?”

  “They left the scalpel on my table. I have it in my hand.”

  Silence.

  “Wesley … we’re going to die here.”

  “No. No, we’re not.”

  “I think …. I don’t want to suffer. I don’t want them to do anything to me.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “I’m going to use this. To bleed out. Hopefully I’ll die before they come back.”

  Wesley felt terrible despair. There was no way of escape. This was certainly Kelle’s only chance of escaping the horrors that were to come. While awful to think of, the scalpel did present a gruesome opportunity. He instinctively wanted to plead with her
not to do it. Somehow, he still felt some hope. Maybe it was denial. Truly, the stoically logical thing to do was for her to use the scalpel and take her life into her own hands. But there was in this, as in everything, the great, “What If.”

  “Wait, Kelle. Wait until we hear them coming back,” he said.

  She moaned, “I’m afraid.”

  “Let’s think about how we can get out of here.”

  “I won’t have time to do it if I hear them coming.”

  “Kelle, you didn’t let me do it. You didn’t let me take the easy way out.”

  “They’re coming back, I hear them!”

  There were noises coming from the hallway. But it didn’t sound like footsteps. “Stop! That isn’t them! Just wait!”

  “We made a great team, Wesley.”

  “KELLE, NO!”

  The door handle twisted briefly, then there was silence. It twisted again and light poured onto the ceiling as the door swung open and banged into the wall. The shadow of the figure on the ceiling was short. There were clomping footfalls as it entered the room. Wesley could hear it approach his table. He could sense something touch the edge of the table, and in an instant a flash of red fur was flying up in the air and landing on his chest.

  It was an orangutan, and after it landed it turned around to look down at Wesley’s face. “Reebok!” Wesley cried, surprised by how happy he was to see her. “Hey,” Wesley said, “Can you get me free?”

  Reebok cocked her head at Wesley, scratched her crown in boredom, and seated herself comfortably. Looking idly around, she seemed in no hurry to do anything whatsoever.

  “Hey!” Wesley cried, pulling on his bonds.

  The ape eyed him in annoyance. Then, yawning, she raised an arm to point at something above Wesley’s head which he couldn’t see. Slowly, lazily, she moved her hand farther out of Wesley’s view until it sounded like a button had been pushed. Immediately the metal shackles raised and the head-brace opened. The ape shrieked as if surprised and hopped off to the floor. Wesley sat up and saw her amble over to a bench to the left where his and Kelle’s clothes were neatly folded. Reebok picked up one of Kelle’s boots and started to remove her own sneakers.

  Quickly taking in his surroundings, Wesley saw a raised tray with an array of surgical instruments to his right. Beyond that, across the room was a metal table where Kelle was restrained. The door was at the end of the room in front of them. He looked down at his own body and saw a myriad of tiny wires protruding from his skin. They all coiled into one bundle and wound their way up to the control panel at the top of the table above where his head had been. Hesitantly, he tugged at one of the wires protruding from his chest. He felt slight pain from his skin. He gave the wire a sharp tug and it came all the way out. He grabbed the bundle and pulled. He felt dozens of points of pain all over where the wires were implanted. He pulled hard, but it took three jerks before the wires were all out of his body. Tiny spots of blood appeared everywhere there had been a wire.

  He jumped off his table and rushed over to Kelle. “Please hurry!” she pleaded, eyeing the doorway anxiously, her face bathed in tears, “Please.” On the control panel above her head he saw a button that read “Release.” He pushed it and her bonds unlocked. She immediately raised her torso and tackled his neck, sobbing with relief. Then she leaned back and touched the bundle of wires that connected to the control panel.

  Grasping the wires, he said, “This is going to hurt a bit.”

  She squinted, “Okay. Do it.”

  She squeezed his arm with white knuckles and clenched her teeth as he pulled. Then she stared at him angrily, “You said it would hurt ‘a bit!’”

  He grinned, “Sorry. I lied.”

  Once the wires were all out, he helped her off the table and they ran over to put on their clothes. Reebok had abandoned Kelle’s boots and was now trying Wesley’s sneakers. Wesley had to grapple with her a bit before she released his shoe. While Wesley and Kelle were dressing, Reebok donned her original pair of shoes with discontented grunts.

  Wesley cautiously peered out the doorway. He and Kelle were armed with a number of syringes labeled “Vecuronium Bromide” (they didn’t know what that was) and a knife he had found in cabinets lining the walls. The hoots and screams of apes echoed down a wide hall. Reebok pushed past them to walk down the hall and sit on her haunches.

  A voice from beyond the hall shouted, “The toxin won’t work on them! They’ve been immunized like everything else in this wretched place!”

  Another voice: “The tranquilizers! Quick!” Sounds of a fierce brawl gave way to a gut-wrenching human scream followed by a cracking sound and fierce chimp shrieking. Then, running footsteps, clattering sounds, and the shrieks of the apes becoming increasingly distant.

  Appearing absent-minded, Reebok started to lope down the hall. She paused and looked back at Wesley, as if waiting for him to follow. Wesley looked questioningly at Kelle, who shrugged her shoulders. There was a T-junction at the end of the hall, and Reebok disappeared behind the edge of the wall. Wesley cautiously peered around and saw a man in a lab coat lying on the floor, his head angled over awkwardly. It looked like his neck was broken and his eyes stared blankly. Reebok was struggling to pull the Nike sneakers off his feet. After she had done so, she beckoned Wesley to follow and made her way to a door off the hallway. She pulled the handle and pushed it open.

  Wesley followed with Kelle close behind. A foul odor immediately greeted him. It was a filthy lab room with broken cabinets, pornographic posters peeling off the walls, and bottles of empty personal lubricant strewn all over. The only light in the room came from the doorway. Chained to a post in the center was a female orangutan, totally shaven. She cowered in Wesley’s shadow.

  Reebok moved in and pulled on the chains, looking at Wesley with a distressed expression.

  Wesley lowered to his knee beside the cowering ape and examined the chains. Handcuffs were securing her wrists and feet. Her head hung low, but she cautiously eyed him before involuntarily shuddering.

  “Wes,” Kelle said, pointing to keys that hung on the wall by the door.

  Moments later, as they reentered the hall, Wesley spotted a red EXIT sign over a door at the end before a turn. He was carrying the shaved orangutan because it wouldn’t follow them willingly. It was alive by virtue of the breaths it took in, but even that seemed laborious to it.

  As they made their way toward the exit sign, an electric whirring sound came from around the corner. They all froze.

  Making its way around the corner was a small, box-shaped robot. As it slowly wheeled past them, not seeming to notice nor care that they were there, Reebok dropped the shoe he was holding and lowered his head to the ground to inspect the robot’s wheels. It turned and disappeared around the T-junction.

  Wesley said, “C’mon” and shoved open the exit door.

  It was a stairwell.

  Reebok pressed past them and used the railings and pipes to effortlessly swing down the first two flights of stairs. They quickly followed, making their way down two more flights. The stairs ended at a wall with no door.

  “We’ll have to go back,” Wesley said.

  Kelle shivered, “No, I won’t.”

  Reebok stared at them impatiently, then ran her hand along the diamond steel floor. She paused, tapped a little, and then pushed her finger directly into the floor. This action forced a ring to raise up, which she grabbed with both hands and pulled on. A square section of the floor raised on hidden hinges, revealing a pitch black opening big enough for a man to pass through. Without looking back, Reebok lowered herself down the hole.

  Wesley peered down after her and couldn’t make her out in the blackness, but he did see a round-rung ladder with a half-circle cage that extended straight down from the opening, clinging to a concrete wall like a vine. “What do you think?” he asked.

  “Let’s go,” Kelle said.

  Before he could make another move, the shaved orangutan slipped from his arms and dashed dow
n the hole after Reebok.

  Wesley shrug his shoulders at Kelle. Then he slipped his knife into his pocket and placed his foot on the first wrung.

  It slipped.

  “It’s wet,” he warned. He tried again, but because the rungs had barely an inch of clearance from the wall, there wasn’t much for his shoes to grip. Clinging carefully with his hands, he made his way down the first few steps. Kelle gingerly followed, dropping the cover shut above her. The metallic slam disappeared into the now-total blackness without an echo.

  The sounds of Reebok and the other ape swinging their way down quickly diminished, giving Wesley the impression that the ladder was very long. Judging by the sound of it, the orangs were making their way down with effortless speed, even in the darkness.

  Wesley and Kelle, on the other hand, made very slow progress in their descent, and his calves were already beginning to burn. His fingers were frozen stiff. He was beginning to wonder if the ladder had any end at all when the clearance between it and the wall diminished to nothing so that the rungs were pressed right against the concrete. He was able to make it down the first couple steps okay, but when his hands reached the first flush rung he realized there was no way he could grip it. “I think we have to go back.”

  “Why?” Kelle anxiously asked.

  “Because the ladder is flush with the wall. You can’t hold onto it.”

  “I’m not going back up there.”

  Wesley sighed.

  “I can’t go back up there.”

  “Okay, then. I think if I take off my shoes, maybe I can grip with my toes and push against the cage with my back. And I’ll drop my shoes down to see if we can find out how far we have to go.”

  “What if you can’t find them?”

  “I guess that’s a risk I’ll have to take.”

  “Where is Reebok?”

  “Oh, she ditched us a long time ago. Survival of the fittest, I guess.” He chuckled. Wesley climbed back up a few steps and removed his right shoe. “Okay, here it goes.” He let it drop into the abyss.

  One… two… three… he counted in his mind. He didn’t know why he was counting. He had no idea what the velocity of a falling shoe was. Four… five… six… seven… eight… nine… ten… eleven… twelve… thirteen… fourteen… fifteen… sixteen… seventeen… eighteen… nineteen… twenty… “Huh,” he said. There was nothing. No sound at all…as if the shoe had turned into a puff of smoke.