All Worlds: Fantasy And Science Fiction Series Starters

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All Worlds: Fantasy And Science Fiction Series Starters Page 18

by Vangjel Canga


  Katharine's view...

  I move back to the overturned table, wondering if the one man's wearing a bulletproof vest. I take a deep breath, rise, return fire, and the bullet hits the second man in the head, and he also falls to the floor. Silence follows, and it's a maddening silence that clears my head, lets me think, and lets me realize. My fear turns to uncertainty and uncertainty to self loathing. I slump to the floor, lean against the table, and bow my head. Disbelieving I'm the one who committed the violent actions against those men, I stare at the gun on my lap, trying to distance myself from the incident and fail. Why am I good at killing? Why did I feel nothing for the men I murdered? I put a hand to my mouth as a little bile comes up. I swallow, forcing the bile back down my throat, and it burns all the way, searing my guilt into my soul. Is this the kind of person I am? Am I an emotionless killer?

  End Katharine's view...

  Within the Chamber...

  Mr. Morta cheered, "There!"

  Analysts and supervisors high-fived each other.

  Mr. Morta looked to the center screen as Second Evolvement Achieved brightly flashed from it, and then he said, "The Beta Phase of Pandora's metamorphosis has successfully been reached." He reviewed a report from Argus. "Our operative has seen Pandora's extraordinary shooting ability, and he believes Pandora, when it is in the Beta Phase, cannot miss. It has far exceeded our expectations for the Beta Phase. We believed Pandora would have an aptness for terminating bio-mechas, but this..."

  "Yes," Ms. Nona agreed. "It will be a useful skill."

  Mr. Decuma interjected, "If it is true."

  "The data supports it, and Argus witnessed it," Mr. Morta stated and then inquired, "What more do you need to believe?"

  Mr. Decuma replied, "More data perhaps or..."

  "I want to know," Ms. Nona interrupted, excited about the outcome, and then she questioned, "Do you think Pandora can reach the Gamma Phase today?"

  "I believe we are jumping ahead," Mr. Morta replied. "There are still three Un-Men remaining."

  "Yes, and does Pandora have skill or is it merely luck?" Mr. Decuma asked. "More than half of the Un-Men remain. Can it defeat them as easily as the first two?"

  At Etna Toys...

  Katharine's view...

  Leaves and other debris blow in through the open front door as I stand and make my way on shaky legs to the men I've gunned down. I still feel queasy as if at any moment I'll spill my guts all over the floor as guilt continues to shame me to pain, and when I reach the men's side, I find a black oil like liquid oozing from the hole in their heads. They aren't human, they're... I remove the polarized spectacles of one, revealing not fleshy eyes but glassy robotic ones. The colored orbs shudder as power surges through its body, the spheres bug out, and its hands gnarl with the mechanical pangs of death. I stare at its eyes. The red rings with black centers show no spark of life; they're merely windows to the soulless.

  Relief pours over me as I realize they're not human. I didn't kill anyone, and I'm not a murderer, but... Did I know it before I shot them or am I still a cold-blooded killer? My queasiness eases up a little, but my confusion remains as I realize they're bio-mechas, model Un-Men. Why do I know this fact when I can't remember the simplest thing like my name? I search them, find a spare magazine on each of them, and place the ammo in my right thigh pocket.

  lub-DUB... lub-DUB...

  I sense more bio-mechas, and this time, I know their location. Three of them walk the grounds outside less than fifteen feet away from me. I franticly search the plant for an escape as the Un-Men split up, and one of them walks through a side entrance. The Un-Man fires at me as I run and take cover behind a row of machinery. Sparks fly as bullets ricochet off of metal, and I cover my head. During the attack, I lose my concentration and the position of the other two, so I blindly dash for the front door as more bullets whizz by. I return fire and hit my mark then continue for the door. I glance back at the third Un-Man as it lies face down. The last two Un-Men suddenly appear in the doorway in front of me, and I run into one and fall backwards, and then with speed that can't be normal, I fire twice before landing on my side. I strike the floor hard and knock the wind out of me. The first shot disables the Un-Man with the gun, but the one with the Bowie side steps my second shot with electrical speed as if the Un-Man anticipated my actions before I took them. I inhale, sucking in needed air as I hold my hurting ribs. The Un-Man draws its large knife and stares at me curiously. None of the others had done that, and it creeps me out to the point that I'm more afraid of it than any of the others. The dot of light I see in its glasses, no in its sunglasses glows brighter and brighter until it appears as if half the Un-Man's face is burning. Am I looking at some sort of demon?

  "The Pandora Project..." the Un-Man sings out, not in the usual monotone of its brethren. The orange colored dot-light changes to a deep red, a blood-red, and the Un-Man gazes at me as if probing my soul. "Pandora..." Its voice is sadistically mellow and toys with me, making me feel violated. "Pandora, I have found you." The Un-Man smiles as if it takes pleasure in the hunt, and it states, "Target acquired." It takes a step towards me, and I scurry backwards on my hands and feet as the Un-Man says, "Moving forward with termination."

  It lunges for me with the blade, I roll out of the way, and the Un-Man misses, striking its blade on the concrete. I rise to one knee, aim, and pull the trigger.

  Click.

  The gun's empty.

  Click... Click...

  I pull the trigger again and again, hoping a bullet will magically materialize and fire. The Un-Man slowly stands from its kneeling position, takes two quick steps towards me, and kicks me in the ribs. I grab my side and hurry to my feet, pushing through the pain as the Un-Man slashes towards me. I leap back and defensively lift my hands, and the blade cuts across my left forearm. I cry out in pain as blood spills to the gray floor.

  The Un-Man wipes the red plasma from the blade with its fingers, and its face beams as if relishing in the combat.

  "The Pandora Project," it whispers, fooling with me. "Pan... dora..."

  The Un-Man attacks again with the blade, and the air screams with each slash as if the knife cuts open its airy belly and spills out its gaseous guts.

  The Un-Man coos, "Pandora, I have found you."

  I barely evade the attacks and then run, rushing deeper into the dark building. I'm so afraid... I want someone to save me. Why is this happening to me? I don't want to be here. Someone help me... I continue running as dread lingers within my heart. I have to escape this nightmare, so I keep looking around, and I tell myself it's because I'm searching for a way out, but I can't fool myself. I'm hoping someone will appear. I'm hoping someone will be my Superman or Lassie, but no one comes to my rescue. I'm on my own, and as much as I don't want to be on my own, the fact still chases after me, intent to destroy me as much as the Un-Man wishes me harm. I keep fleeing as hundreds of questions bombard my mind, and a few of them dominate my thoughts. Why did it call me the Pandora Project, and why can't I hit it? I eject the empty magazine from the Beretta, drop it to the floor, and pull one from my pocket. I insert the new one in the magazine well, chamber a round, and fire twice behind me, and the Un-Man continues after me, ducking the shots. Is this what I was dreaming about? I'm not the predator but the prey?

  End Katharine's view...

  Within the Chamber...

  Mr. Morta said, "Not bad for the opening test. Pandora achieved the first two phases. It delivered uncanny accuracy with the weapon we provided and successfully sensed the bio-mechas, and once it has achieved all the phases, Pandora will be the perfect weapon." He drummed his fingers together as he ordered, "Set up another test, so we may analyze the range of its gifts and set Pandora down the path to perfection."

  Mr. Decuma nodded and typed up the documentation for the next test, and then he asked the male supervisor standing next to him, "Are the new reports on the project ready?"<
br />
  "They'll be right over," he answered and then went back over to the analysts, and within a minute, the supervisor approached, stating, "Here are the reports you requested on her, Mr. Decuma."

  "Her?" the Council said in unison.

  "Yes, her," the supervisor answered. He was taken aback by their reaction and asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

  "We do not refer to Pandora as she or her," Mr. Decuma reprimanded. "It is an experiment and is to be referred to as such." In disdain, he added, "To say she or her in reference implies Pandora has rights." Mr. Decuma made it quite clear as he stated, "It has none."

  "Of course, Mr. Decuma," the supervisor apologized as he handed him the H.H.C. "My error. It won't happen again."

  He returned to monitoring the analysts.

  Ms. Nona scanned the bio-data on the large center screen and then said, "There seems to be no adverse reaction to the Ultra-Epi, though, complications could arise in the future. Also Pandora's body is not rejecting the adrenal gland we genetically altered to create the supercharged epinephrine." She made a few notes. "We will have to monitor Pandora for any palpitations, tachycardia, anxiety, headaches, tremors, acute pulmonary edema, and hypertension."

  Mr. Morta stated, "We will see if it was wise to alter the gland instead of administering injections."

  Mr. Decuma finished setting up the test, and then he said, "The Factory will be more than happy to assist us in the next field trial as one of our sister departments in the Sphinx Corporation."

  "The fact that they are developing the Un-Men as their new line of bio-mecha assassins does not hurt us either," Ms. Nona added.

  "Yes," Mr. Morta agreed. "The Factory's earlier line of bodyguards was very profitable for the Sphinx Corporation, and now the Factory hopes to improve their power and standing by releasing an unmatched line of bio-mecha assassins. Pandora is an ideal forum to refine the Un-Men's programming." He smiled, pleased with the project, and then he added, "With Pandora's help, the Factory will be able to create the perfect killing machines, and in turn, the Factory will help us test Pandora and help Pandora achieve its purpose. The one seen by Ginn that will..."

  "Or Arcamedes," Mr. Decuma interrupted. "We still do not know the path it will take."

  Ms. Nona stated, "You are correct. Only time will reveal its path."

  The female supervisor handed the councilwoman a report, and Ms. Nona said, "There seems to be a problem. Pandora has been unable to disable one of the Un-Men." Ms. Nona rechecked the report, and then she stated, "It is a Type Four model."

  "Terminate the test," Mr. Morta ordered, sitting upright. "Request that the Factory recall its bio-mecha. For Pandora to have destroyed four of the five Un-Men is not a failure on its first outing."

  "The Factory reports a problem. The Un-Man has ignored its recall," Mr. Decuma relayed. "It seems they have a rogue on their hands."

  "A rogue, you say?" Mr. Morta questioned. "The Un-Man must be exceptional to survive this long against Pandora. This very fact is most interesting."

  "Yes, like I said a rogue," Mr. Decuma answered and then asked, "Shall I have Argus assist the project?"

  "No, not at this time," Mr. Morta replied, then he calmly folded his hands, leaned back in the chair, and spoke, "Pandora must learn to survive on its own. We not only need to develop Pandora's untested body, but its young undeveloped mind and character. What better way to develop character than to face adversity? In the past, great warriors went up against other great warriors to test their mettle. Strength and endurance grows through conflict as steel sharpens steel, so the Rogue will be Pandora's adversary."

  Chapter Three

  Kimberly Griffin

  About one year later...

  32 A.D.C...

  October 12...

  Tuesday...

  7:59 P.M...

  The Sphinx Corporation Third Branch Office towered over the streets of the Hellenistic Sector, Business Vicinage. When the city was created, the Corporate Senate which was made up of corporations from all over the world, divided Noir into hundreds of sectors, and each sector was owned and governed by one of the corporations. The sectors were then divided by each corporation into smaller areas called vicinages. Sphinx owned and ruled the Hellenistic Sector. Each corporation policed its sector with its own corporate military. The world had its own civil police force which dealt in non-corporate issues like assaults, murders by non-Closers, and anything else the corporate military kicked to them. Authority always belonged to the corporations.

  The Sphinx Corporation Third Branch Office was one of many massive buildings in Noir; it was a mile high and half mile across and back, and it stood as a giant in the city and dominated as a Titan before the age of Zeus. A woman in her late thirties sat alone within a waiting room on Level 150, and in her left hand, she held a key chain of a pink bunny rabbit. She rubbed her thumb over a worn spot on the rabbit's cheery face. Kimberly Griffin raked her long blonde hair behind her ear and rubbed her eye. She looked at a man's picture on the cover of the Conglomerate World magazine lying on a coffee table, and the headline read, Topa, Climbing the Ladder of Success?

  She shifted position on the light brown couch and glanced at the secretary. The older woman typed on a keyboard. Kim sighed, impatient, and turned her gaze to a few landscape paintings decorating the open room's white walls. Their purpose was to soothe those who waited, and they were supposed to take one's mind away from the stresses of the day. The paintings incited no such solace in her, and she sighed again and turned to the secretary as the woman answered the phone on her desk.

  The secretary hung up, cleared her throat, and said, "Ms. Griffin, your father..." The secretary caught her own slip and then corrected herself by saying, "I'm sorry, I mean the Chairman will see you now."

  Kim nodded, too tired to be irritated, straightened her aqua pant suit, and headed for the huge corner office. The Chairman's position ranked third under the President and Vice President, and since Sphinx was one of the more powerful corporations in the world, that made her father a very influential man with vast resources and global connections. Kim paused outside his office, vexed to have been called in. She had just returned from the Light Side of the planet and wanted to go home and sleep. She took a deep breath, silencing her anger, then opened the door, and walked in.

  Two of the walls within the office consisted of ten-foot-high windows, and the office's bright lights reflected off the windows like mirrors. The Chairman's desk sat off from the corner, giving him even more presence of authority like a king on a throne. Kim closed the door. He glanced up from a computer and stared at her with his light blue eyes as she entered. He was in his late sixties but looked much younger around fifty, and he wore a dark gray suit.

  "Kimberly, good to see you," Mr. Griffin said, stood, walked to her, and kissed her on the cheek. She didn't return his affection and almost turned from him like she was repulsed. Mr. Griffin tried not to show his disappointment as he motioned to one of the chairs in front of his desk, and she sat as he returned to his seat and then he questioned, "Are you still living in the apartment off of West 1000 Avenue?"

  Kim felt uneasy being in his office, but bore the discomfort as she noticed his graying black hair. "Yes."

  He waited a moment before continuing, hoping she would say something more, and when she only stared at him, Mr. Griffin asked, "Are you seeing anyone?"

  She didn't answer him and muttered to herself, "As if I have time for a boyfriend, but that's none of his business."

  He quickly moved to the next question, feeling awkward in front of his daughter. "How's work?"

  Still showing a bit of fatigue, she answered, "Fine. I finished a Closing in Moscow three days ago."

  Her face softened as she glanced at the bunny rabbit keychain.

  Mr. Griffin thought he saw a glimmer of sadness. "Are you all..?"

  Kim glared at him, stifling his question as her vexation returned. She knew she w
as getting too upset and let her training take over. Kim calmed herself and tried to treat him as if he was her employer, and it worked for a few seconds. She glanced at the back of a picture frame sitting on his desk, and her anger returned.

  "You didn't call me in here because you suddenly have an interest in my life."

  He said, "Right, to business then."

  Mr. Griffin handed her an envelope, and Kim opened it and saw a brass key inside.

  "It's to your mother's hope chest." He picked up the picture frame and spoke, "How you look like her?" Mr. Griffin set it back down as happy memories flooded his mind. "I know she would have wanted you to have the chest. I've set up delivery."

  "Why are you giving me the hope chest? Is it because it's close to the anniversary of when mom left?"

  "No."

  "So why now?"

  He didn't understand her meaning and questioned, "Why now?"

  "All these years since mom..." She paused, trying not to cry. "Since mom abandoned us, you've never wanted to talk about her, and her name became taboo around you, so why now after two decades? Why give me her hope chest? What has changed?" She narrowed her eyes as she grew suspicious of his actions. "I know it isn't our relationship, so what is it? Are you going to talk about why she left us?"

  He replied, "I know I was wrong. When she left me... When she left us I was devastated. It hurt me so much I wanted to forget her. I never thought how it might affect you or that you needed me, and for that, I'm sorry."

  "Sorry," she repeated and then laughed. "Perfect, now everything's fine." Kim stood and started for the door as she added sarcastically, "I'm glad I came."

  "Do you have to leave? I thought we might have a late dinner and talk."

 

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