Transmatic

by Chris Kelso

  - Do you want some of this? – He asked while fixing up a Jam Cap. She didn’t look at all sure.

  - If you fill the syringe up with it and stick it in my arm, I’ll take it.

  - Well, I…

  The girl lifted up her dress.

  - Jab me with it if you like.

  Ellis really wanted to be able to connect with La, but contemporary drugs could have an irreversible effect on a person’s psyche. Everyone wanted to fuck and fight before the lights went out, this was never Ellis’s style, despite what people thought. La left and went across the hall to a guy called Brady.

  She’d get what she was after from him.

  THREE

  THE PHONE RANG.

  - We got another job for you – emerged a voice distorted by a fazer-effect.

  - Ok, great.

  - You did good with the last hit, Sur says he’d work with you again, says you’re spunky.

  - Awe, that ol’ softy…

  - This Tuesday, free your schedule.

  - Ah…

  - What?

  - That might be tough to swing.

  - Excuse me?

  - It’s just, I have this job up at Arleta station, and it’s kind of a contract I can’t afford to break. If I do break it they’ll blacklist me and I won’t work in the exterminator business again.

  - You entered into a contract with us too.

  - On the understanding you’d give me at least a week’s notice.

  - Bullshit!

  - You people don’t pay me enough to jack in my other job, if you did I’d be more focused and enthusiastic.

  - We can find another contract.

  - Sur told me that’s not the case.

  - Excuse me?

  - He said temp contracts are hard to sell. Killing people comes at a great cost to the hit and the hitman.

  - EXCUSE ME??

  - I need the money and you need a nutter who’ll work part-time. You can change the day from Tuesday to Thursday can’t you?

  - Thursday, clear your schedule.

  - You got it.

  There was a knock on the door. Ellis answered and was met with a middle-aged man with well quaffed hair and a zig-zag sweater.

  - Are you the exterminator?

  - Yes…

  - My name is Brian Sector. I was wondering if you could help me kill a dirty rat in my bathroom.

  - I’m not really on duty Brian.

  - I’ll pay you for it.

  Ellis followed Sector across the hall to his apartment. He could hear La getting violently fucked through the spackle. Inside, Sector’s place was a chaotic mess, like he’d been looted by a cack-handed burglar. Ellis picked up a large A2 sheet of paper with complex diagrams scrawled all over it.

  - What’s this?

  - It’s my plan for a Dyson Sphere…

  - A what?

  - An artificial megastructure encompassing a star that can extrapolate energy.

  - I see…

  - Sorry about the mess – he said moving a mass of books from the couch to create a place for Ellis to sit. He opted to stand instead.

  - It’s a palace compared to my flat. Bet old Layman loves coming to collect his rent from you, nah I’m kidding of course. A palace this is, an absolute palace. So what do you do Mr Sector?

  - I’m a physician actually – he revealed after a moment’s hesitation.

  - Ah right, did you treat young La?

  - I tried, for a while…

  - She’s pretty banged up, eh?

  - I thought for a while that I could help her. I don’t at all approve of the Fascist therapy she’s being subjected to.

  - You thought you could help La? You must be a pretty confident shrink?

  - Only the wounded physician can hope to heal.

  Ellis smiled and decided he quite liked Brian Sector.

  - So shall I take a look at this filthy rat of yours?

  - I’ve changed my mind about that. Let it be.

  - Ok, fair enough. That’s one lucky rat!

  - Tell me, do you know about the Eye?

  - Emm…no I can’t say that I do – Ellis perched on the armrest of a couch. The fabric had been blanched by spilt liquid but it was surely cleaner than anywhere else in the apartment.

  - The Eye is what helps you see.

  - Self-explanatory I suppose.

  - There is a state of being that you have to go through. You have to be willing to undergo a painful transformation. A state called Transmatica.

  - Sounds easy.

  - Nothing could be harder. You have to be one of the select few who are transmatic. If you’re not, well…the less said about it the better.

  - No tell me!

  Ellis wriggled his buttocks on the arm-rest getting comfy, his intrigue piqued. Sector leaned forward as if worried that the wrong person might overhear.

  - Well, there was a fellow who lived in this building, not far from your own apartment actually, who wanted to experience The Eye. He was so sure he was transmatic.

  - What happened?

  - His head exploded.

  - Oh…

  - And then his arms fell off…

  - Oh…

  - And then his legs fell apart at the knees.

  - Oh?

  - And then his genitals ruptured and his anus prolapsed.

  - Ok, I think I’m about sold on this product. Thanks anyway Mr Sector.

  Ellis stood up and made towards the door, ready to say his farewells, when Sector stood up and gave an apologetic expression with his mouth and eyes.

  - Please it is a little shocking…

  Ellis found it curious why Mike Ryko hadn’t mentioned Sector in the hallway before.

  - You have to be absolutely willing to give up the Solipsis, that’s why it didn’t work for him….

  - And what’s Solipsis?

  - The internal mind and its relationship with the external body. It’s an attachment that only leads to agony. I can tell you are in a state of all-engulfing Solipsis…

  - I don’t have enough time for all this Mr Sector, but listen, thanks all the same…

  - You don’t have time? We all have time; it’s a luxury of being alive.

  - It’s just I have more than one job ye see…

  - And is one job not sufficient?

  Ellis didn’t like Sector’s tone one bit.

  - I’m saving up for enough money to buy a car if you must know.

  - You can’t afford a car on an exterminator’s wage?

  - It’s a certain type of car, a candy apple red Nova Supreme.

  - Sounds ostentatious.

  - Well, I have other luxuries I like to indulge in too Mr Sector.

  - Ah, drugs, material things, the trappings of a small mind…

  Ellis had reached the apogee of his patience. Now Sector had taken to cheap digs, Ellis decided it was time to bring out the nasty just to show him who was really in charge here.

  - I’m a hitman too actually doctor – he said as off-handedly as he could muster - It brings in the extra cash I need and satisfies my, er… darker urges, know what I mean?

  Sector looked unfazed.

  - Please leave…

  Ellis obliged and left the door half open.

  - Good luck with that rat – he hollered from the hall.

  FOUR

  Thursday

  SOMEHOW THERE WAS ALWAYS the fresh fragrance of pruned wisteria in the air outside Mrs Kowalski’s hut. The place was always flooding because it ran flush with the surface of the roof and rainwater from the gutter often seeped under the rot-wood porch. It had no indoor plumbing and the damp air of the place bred fatal coughs.

  She never left the shack. Nothing went in and nothing ever went out – except maybe the dry breath of smoke puking out of a cast iron vent above the overhang bracket.

  Ignius Ellis and Mike Ryko were standing about 100 meters from Mrs Kowalski’s shack.

  - We should see what really goes on in there man – Ryko said while jammin
g a twisted nail into the sole of his boots.

  - What’re you doing?

  - There’s a riot before sun-down, can’t hurt to be prepared man. So do you want to?

  - Do I want to what?

  - Check out Kowalski’s hut?

  - No.

  - Well, why not?

  - I don’t want to mate, that’s all.

  - Why not?

  - Dunno, just doesn’t seem…right.

  - As if that stuff matters now!

  - It matters to me. I’m old fashioned mate. Leave the old bird be.

  - Well I’m going to see what’s going on.

  - Well I better get ready for work.

  - Oh yeah, the extermination industry waits for no man!

  - You got it mate!

  Ellis descended the roof staircase. He thought about Ryko for a moment. Ellis didn’t like the thought of him snooping about some poor old biddy’s house.

  Sur was waiting in the lead-sled out front. He seemed happy to see Ellis, the sight of Sur’s big jolly face warmed Ellis too - reminded him of a Venus in a conch. His hair was long and scraped back into a tight shank, his forearms and neck were set in ropes of thick blue veins beneath the bunched up sleeves of a stained peasant blouse. Sur always wore dingy vagrant hand-me-downs; on this occasion he was wearing cotton corduroy trousers with sandals.

  - Hey Grand Theft Auto, what’s happnin’ hepcat?

  - Plodding along mate. You keeping well aye?

  - Jesus man, you are nonstop! Ha-ha! Hey I respect your upbeat attitude. I’m well, and you’re well too, huh?

  - Aye, working hard. The folk in my building are a bit nutty mind you.

  - If you think someone is nutty they must be a downright boneafide screwball!

  - So where we goin? Who we wasting?

  - We’re goin to 45 Leland Avenue at Desmond Street. The sick creep we’re gonna put to rest is a rotten little Jew, goes by the name Kowalski, that’s all I know.

  - Hey, hey, careful now.

  - What?

  - We’re hitmen not anti-Semites!

  Sur gave a big smile.

  - California was made for cats like you Ignius.

  He powered up the lead-sled and made off down McLaren Park. Ellis was watching the beautiful women glide by when some stark realisation hit him hard in the gut.

  - Hey, what did you say his name was again?

  - What, the hit? Kowalski?

  - Shit…

  - What is it?

  - I have a neighbour in my building called Kowalski, some senile old coot.

  - This dude is in his 30’s man, he’s just struck it big in the jewellery market.

  - Ok…

  - You gonna be ok to do the hit?

  - Sure.

  In truth, Ellis didn’t know how he felt about all this. Back in Scotland he was considered something of a thug to some people - he never shied away from anything in his life. But there was something about Mrs Kowalski’s situation that unsettled him, all alone up there in that shack. Most old people reminded Ellis of his own sweet grandma. If something ever happened to make her unhappy Ellis would kick up shit like you’ve never seen. It sickened him to think about his grandma in pain. He thought about the pain Mrs Kowalski would feel…

  They arrived at Desmond Street and Sur parked outside a fenced off toxic clean-up site. Night fell quickly and they saw the hit pull up before getting out of his car – a candy-apple red Nova.

  - I’m saving up for that car you know?

  - You are? That’s swell. I bet Ray Romano over there bought that baby with his extra pennies he had just lying around.

  Ellis appreciated what Sur was trying to do. He was trying to make him feel better about killing Mrs Kowalski’s kid. The hit had hair growing from below his chin the way pine might grow tenaciously off of a cliff edge.

  - You want to pop him the old fashioned way, or plough him down with my lead-sled again in front of a dozen witnesses?

  Ellis sniggered and took the gat.

  - What’s he doin anyway?

  - I have no idea…

  Kowalski was trying to unload a bundle of something wrapped in bloody linen from the boot of his Nova.

  - What the…?

  The draped bundle thumped onto the sidewalk.

  - Is that..a body? – Ellis couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  - Sure looks like it hepcat.

  Kowalski dragged the stiff into the side entrance of a Launder-O-Mat called CLEAN&SWIRL.

  - Let’s go.

  Sur and Ellis got out of the car and moved towards the hit. Ellis felt something serious afoot, it made his stomach do flip-flops and he didn’t like it. Sur inched his massive back across the brick wall of the CLEAN&SWIRL, gun poised, ready and raised at his chin. Ellis, crouching, followed behind. The sound of churning washing machines meant they could sneak in unheard, even a man of Sur’s considerable size was able to walk around undetected. Ellis cocked his own weapon, he felt comfortable with hand-guns. He used to own one back when he was a football hooligan, it was his way of putting the fear of god into sheep-shagging away supporters - a .44. Sur made a gesture with his mouth to indicate that the hit was in the next room and he wasn’t alone. They both crouched and peeked into the store-room.

  Ellis had forgotten the specific event that had started his decline into entropy.

  - I thought the hit was supposed to be alone?? – Ellis whispered.

  Kowalski and a small Asian man were cutting the bloody rags apart from the corpse.

  Ellis recognised the body straight away.

  It was Mike Ryko.

  ****

  The Asian man obviously owned the Launder-O-Mat. He had a uniform on with the CLEAN&SWIRL insignia on it, his name-badge read MANAGER.

  - This is the sonofabitch who tried to rape my dear old momma.

  The Asian man observed the corpse and looked forlorn.

  - Poor Negro.

  - Yeah, yeah, poor Negro. Help me get rid of this fuckin body.

  - Ok, wait a moment.

  Ellis couldn’t believe what he was hearing – would Ryko really try to rape Mrs Kowalski? If he did, then Ellis couldn’t honestly blame her son for killing him. He knew about the rape gangs that trolled the streets of Visitacion Valley. Often they’d been groomed since sixth grade by vicious criminals, but Ryko seemed so well-intentioned. The Asian man returned with a carton of something.

  - This is a very special mix.

  - What is it?

  - Acid mainly.

  - Why do you need acid in here?

  - In case any important investors need little problems taken care of…

  Kowalski and the Asian proprietor grabbed either end of Ryko’s limp cadaver and carried him back out into the alley. Sur and Ellis tip-toed not far behind. They watched as Kowalski flipped the lid of a dumpster and helped squeeze Ryko into it, covering over his body over with heavy handfuls of trash. The Asian man tipped the canister of acid in after. A thick column of steam swelled out from beneath the lid and high into the night sky. The sounds of metal rusting and crunching as the acid tore its way through the dumpster’s bowels went on for a good few minutes. When the acid trail stopped and silence returned Kowalski began addressing his partner in crime. In hushed tones.

  - You know my mother told me to be careful of this guy.

  - Mrs Kowalski told you that?

  - Yes, she says Mr Ryko here had a gift.

  - What kind of gift?

  - Transmatica…

  - You mean…the Negro was transmatic?

  - Apparently. He seems like a self-absorbed sonofabitch too, I don’t know how someone like that could silence the Solipsis?

  - Typical, that a man who tries to rape an elderly woman is in possession of such a rare gift, typical…

  Sur stood up and walked towards them casually, his gun stretched out in front of him.

  - Ok scum-fucks…

  Kowalski and the Asian didn’t seem totally caught off guard. Sur popped
a slug into the tiny Asian’s forehead and he went down like a child who’d just been struck with a cement dodge-ball. Sur was about to ice the hit and complete the job when Ellis appeared from over his shoulder and took aim.

  - He’s mine…

  Kowalski put two hands in the air and grinned.

  - What ye grinning at mate? I’m about to fucking kill you!

  - You really have no idea who you’re dealing with do you?

  - I know who you are.

  - You’ll see the Cycle coming if you look hard enough. The clouds will amass and the lights in the distance shut off in a domino effect before the streets lamps in your area go the same way. An awful growling wind arcs and pulls the peripheral environment apart until your left in dismantled chaos. Then the death-comas will start spreading and you’ll all go under.

  - Eh…?

  - SHOOT HIM HEPCAT! – Sur screamed before raising his own gun and firing a round straight into Kowalski’s throat. He fell, legs buckled, making a hideous choking sound.

  - Do you think anyone would notice if I took his car?

  PART TWO

  FIVE

  - I’VE MADE A CONSCIOUS EFFORT to enjoy each day before restoration – 15 minutes of calisthenics every day.

  Dr Sector spoke away inattentively while setting up complex apparatus. A young student sat in a chair with a metal helmet lodged onto his skull that had various wires leading into a portable machine. The student appeared malnourished, as if a lack of oxygen had left him in a state of perpetual biodegradation. He wore grey drainpipes and had dull features – the features of an imbecile, small slow moving eyes and poor reactions. His mind seemed a dustbin of battling thoughts, all bad ones.

  Ellis sat on the crap-cluttered couch and watched.

  - The subliminal messages coming from this realm stimulate the Amygdala, tricking the brain into believing that the artificial world around them is real.