Perfection

by J. L. Spelbring

  “Two are still alive,” said George. “One in each cubicle. Excellent.”

  Grinning like the Cheshire Cat, he looked at Leland, who stared at him as though he were an abomination. Leland’s horrified face was drained of all color and on the verge of turning green. His dilated pupils swallowed the blue of his eyes.

  Apparently, his assistant didn’t have the insight George’s genius held. Of course, George was a successful Center Child, unlike the failed Leland, so his intelligence and perceptiveness exceeded, by far, his assistant’s scope.

  George didn’t like the way the inferior man looked at him. His triumphant smile faltered. “Clean up the mess.”

  Stunned, the younger man’s eyes didn’t leave the doctor.

  “Leland, come to your senses.”

  Leland blinked at the sound of George’s voice. “What?”

  “Take care of the survivors, too.”

  “Wh-what am I supposed to do with them?”

  “Exterminate them.”

  Red flooded Leland’s face as he flew to his feet. His hair flipped over his forehead and dangled in his eyes. He pushed it back.

  “Kill them? Are you mad?”

  Anger swirled inside George, threatening to dissolve his calm demeanor. His lids narrowing, he advanced on his assistant. “I am seriously starting to doubt your ability to stay on as my assistant.”

  Leland averted his gaze. “It’s just—they’re human beings.”

  “They are experimental subjects. Did you honestly think I would release them back into the population afterward? Even you are not that ignorant.”

  “I-I don’t know if I can.”

  Dr. Hirch pointed a finger at his assistant. “You can and you will, or I will find your replacement,” he said, the hidden meaning apparent in his tone.

  Leland jerked his gaze from the floor and faced the doctor. The younger man’s face paled, white as a sheet of clean paper. Without acknowledging the doctor’s threat, he turned toward the monitors. His hands shook as he typed in new commands.

  The doctor inhaled and composed himself. “When you are done, bring the videos to my office.”

  “Yes, Dr. Hirch,” he said, his voice unsteady.

  George opened the door and walked down the steps into the hall between the rooms.

  “Open.”

  A click sounded, and the doors swung outward.

  He surveyed the rooms. Bullets littered the floor around Xaver’s feet where his shield had stopped them from penetrating. Behind Ahron, fragments of the wall had been blown away. Chunks of wood and plaster lay splintered on the ground. He motioned for the boys to join him. Obediently, they strolled into the hallway.

  George glanced at the surviving subjects. Their eyes pleaded for mercy. George’s face took on the expression of a compassionate father. “You will be fine. The Center is grateful for your cooperation.” He stepped away from the door. “Close,” he said, as he moved down the hall.

  The doors swung shut, clicking as the bolts slid back into place. More muffled screams followed.

  Ignoring the sounds of lost hope, George strolled down the hall toward the elevator. Xaver and Ahron followed.

  Although he knew his children didn’t care about approval, as their father, he felt praise was warranted. “I am proud of your work today.”

  He pushed a red button and stood back when the doors slid open. Ahron and Xaver stepped inside.

  “Your progress is astounding.”

  “Thank you, der Vater,” they said, in robotic monotones.

  He followed and hit the ground floor button. As the elevator doors shut, more shots echoed down the corridor.

  19

  Rein sat next to Jordan in the elder’s holey—so nicknamed by the original settlers. Resembling a long honeycomb, the name suited the line of holes on the west side of the cavern. Some were bigger, some smaller. Some had been naturally formed; most had been dug out over the years as more living quarters were needed. All of the holes were considered home by their occupants.

  Although considered the leader, and the oldest descendant remaining from the original survivors, Jordan didn’t have anything special. A sleeping bag, a few blankets, a pillow that had seen much better days twenty years ago, and a beautiful music box that had belonged to Jordan’s mother. The box had a couple dressed in 1800’s garb dancing to music composed by someone named Mozart. Jordan couldn’t remember the name of the piece.

  Rein carefully fingered the delicate box while the haunting music played. Ever since he was a little boy, Rein had loved watching the figurines. He still did, although now, he grieved over the loss of knowledge of classical music along with all the other knowledge lost due to their circumstances.

  Rein looked up from the twirling couple to Jordan, his dark skin even more pronounced under the low light, and shadowed by his dreadlocks. His black eyes, which usually held humor and hope, seemed gaunt and tired. Jordan hadn’t been his regular self for days.

  “I want to trust her. But, considering where she is from and what she is, it is hard.”

  The older man smiled, emphasizing his many wrinkles. “And why are we any more trustworthy?”

  Shocked, Rein arched his brow. “What? We’re the good guys.”

  “Good guys.” Jordan chuckled. “From your point of view. But we must remember, hers is different. She was raised in a society where perfection is important, where the thought of individuality is considered—well, evil. They consider themselves working toward a common good. At least, that’s what I think she was taught.” He thrummed his fingers against the ragged pillow lying in his lap. “She was taught we’re the enemy and must be stopped. But her being here, her hearing Jeremy…”

  Rein twinged at the sound of Jeremy’s name. He couldn’t help it. Jeremy had been like a brother to him. After all, Jordan had raised Woody, Jeremy, and him.

  When he and Doc had returned, they had gone straight to Jordan with the news. A small ceremony was held in his honor and for his bravery, but it was hard to accept he wouldn’t be returning.

  Jordan reached out and laid his hand on his wrist. “Her listening to Jeremy,” he continued, “and seeking us out, tells us she’s found a flaw within her society. Within her belief system.”

  “What if it’s a trick?”

  “A lot of wasted energy on their part. They can’t learn any secrets from us. We are a small community with few people, a few weapons. If they knew about us, they would’ve just come and wiped us out.”

  Rein nodded. Their community had nothing to offer, nothing of any importance. All they did was survive.

  “Now, take me to go meet our visitor.”

  Rein wanted to protest further. He still wasn’t sure if Jordan meeting Ellyssa was such a great idea. His objections had landed on a deaf ear, though.

  Resigned, Rein crawled from the holey into the passageway. His knee popped when he stood. He offered his hand to the older man and helped him to his feet. Jordan’s bones, however, did more than pop; they creaked like rusty hinges.

  “I still want her guarded.”

  Jordan patted him on the shoulder. “I trust your judgment. But, she ain’t the first one from the outside world who has come to live here.”

  “I know, but she is different.” Grabbing the elder under his elbow, Rein asked, “Are you ready?”

  “Lead me to her.”

  Ellyssa had just finished the very last sentence of the novel, Of Mice and Men, when Mathew stopped outside of the room and spoke to her latest babysitter. She had no plans of doing anything, although an armed guard wouldn’t be able to stop her if she did.

  As the guard’s footsteps faded down the corridor, the doctor strolled in, his expression lit in excitement. He eyed the book as she placed it on the table. “So, what did you think?”

  “I have never read anything like it. I cannot thank you enough for sharing this with me.” She fingered the leather binding.

  “And?”

  “And.” Ellyssa thought for
a moment.

  Someone like the characters in the book could never have existed in her society, where the lack of understanding and compassion thrived. It made her ponder the realities of the world she’d lived in. Mentally incapacitated, undeniably flawed, yet Lennie still brought companionship to George. He served a purpose. The dreams and hopes the two shared… no wonder fiction wasn’t allowed in The Center’s sterile environment.

  The characters had made her examine empathy and relationships, expanding her ability to feel. She let the emotions simmer within her, tasting each as it affected her.

  “The loneliness, the foreshadowing of killing things one loves. The hopes and dreams living inside men, although it perishes at the end.” Pausing, Ellyssa tried to place a name to the intense emotion. The very thing she lacked knowledge in. Finally, she settled for the simplest of words. “It was sad.”

  Mathew nodded. “Yes. It’s part of being human. Of becoming complete. Of learning compassion and sympathy for others beyond yourself. Mostly, to never give up.”

  To never give up. The words repeated in Ellyssa’s mind. She wondered if that was what kept the Renegades going and living in the dank, dirty tunnels. Hope of living freely.

  “You’ll love Mary Shelley. It’s a classic.”

  “I am looking forward to reading it. Fiction engages.”

  Mathew’s eyebrows bunched together. “Say, I’m.”

  The corner of Ellyssa’s mouth pulled back. “Why?”

  “Seems, if you are going to be staying for awhile, you need to stop talking like a robot. Relax a little.”

  “I do not think…”

  “Humor me.”

  She grinned. “All right. If it will make you happy.” She thought about the word, how it would roll off her tongue. “I’m.”

  A hint of a smile shadowed his face as steps echoed into the makeshift hospital before the owners appeared. One set was stealthy and sure, the other shuffled.

  “Keep practicing. It’ll become second nature,” Mathew said, patting her hand. “You up for some company?”

  Ellyssa put the book down and rose from the bed, as Rein and a black man entered. Stopping short, she stared in disbelief. Besides history books, never in her life had she seen a black person. His skin was dark and wrinkled, his eyes black as night. His wiry grey hair bounced freely in tangled clumps. He wore the same dress as everyone else, only his clothes hung off his thin, frail body.

  Everything she’d been taught about people of other races surged forward. They were untrustworthy, imperfect. Emotions swirled inside her, confusing her. Unsure what to think, what to do, Ellyssa slipped into her old skin, expressionless, her body poised to defend herself.

  Responding to her defensive posture, the smile gracing the doctor’s face fell, replaced by a curious scowl. Rein’s eyes narrowed and his body visibly coiled. The black man stood there, just as relaxed as when he had first entered. He placed a wrinkled hand on Rein’s forearm.

  Ellyssa quickly sized up the competition, preparing for their first move. The black man and the doctor would be easily disposed of. Rein would prove a bit harder, but not beyond her capabilities.

  Brushing off the old man’s hand, Rein stepped forward, but Mathew popped in front of him with his hands held up, warding off expected hostility.

  “Ellyssa, what’s wrong?” Mathew said.

  She tore her eyes from the black man and focused on the doctor. “I trusted you.”

  Unprepared for her response, Mathew blinked. “Yes. I promised no one was going to hurt you. And no one is.” He turned his body halfway toward the black man. “This is Jordan,” he said, sweeping his arm in introduction.

  Still wary, Ellyssa stepped back, but her body remained tense. “Jordan? Your leader?”

  Mathew looked from her to Jordan, then back to her. He raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I see,” he said with a nod. “There are people of many heritages who live among us, Ellyssa. Quite different than what you are accustomed to, I’m sure.”

  With a quick step forward, Jordan brushed by Rein, who tried to hold him back, but the old man knocked his hand away. Although feeble-looking, the leader moved with vigor. He extended his hand to Ellyssa. “Pleased to meet you, Ellyssa. I’ve heard much about you.”

  The drawl of Jordan’s dialect was even more pronounced and slower than Rein’s or Mathew’s. ‘Pleased to meet you’ sounded more like ‘Pleaz ta mitcha.’

  Ellyssa stared at his proffered hand for a moment, noting the tan skin of his palm. Her gaze floated to his face. Amusement glimmered in his eyes, but so did tiredness. His full lips twitched, as if on the verge of breaking into laughter.

  With his hand still extended in the air, she jumped into his head. An onslaught of goodness thrummed inside the old man. He was very sick. He held absolutely no ill will toward her, only inquisitiveness about who she was and why she was here.

  Against everything drilled into her from a very young age, Ellyssa took an instant liking to the older man, which surprised her.

  Hesitant, like a wild animal taking food from a child, she stepped forward and placed her hand in Jordan’s. His grip was surprisingly strong, considering his health, and…leathery.

  “It is-” Ellyssa paused. “I mean, it’s nice to meet you, too,” she replied. She glanced at Mathew, who nodded encouragingly, a smile of triumph gracing his face. She grinned back at him.

  “Do you mind if I stay and speak with you?”

  Ellyssa’s smile faltered. She didn’t want to answer the questions she’d seen floating in the old man’s head. She was still unsure what to reveal. Maybe everything. Maybe nothing. She chewed on her bottom lip as she debated, then stopped as soon as she noticed the common display of indecision. She erased all expression from her appearance. “Of course.”

  Ellyssa returned to her bed while Mathew rolled the chair over next to her cot. With an audible grunt, Jordan took the offered seat. Mathew settled on the empty cot next to hers, while Rein leaned against the edge of the doorway. Rein ran his fingers through his chestnut hair, rearranging the spikes into a new pattern, before he folded his arms. Unease etched his face as his eyes moved from her, to Jordan, to Mathew.

  She didn’t understand him at all.

  “From what I was told, you were called here?”

  Ellyssa tore her attention away from Rein and nodded.

  “And, as I’m sure Rein or Doc told you, we have reason to believe Jeremy was the one who was captured and taken to The Center.”

  “Yes.”

  “He was special. Extraordinary, actually.”

  “That is my understanding.”

  “Do you know how he came to be here?”

  “No. I was not informed.”

  Jordan looked at the doctor.

  Mathew shrugged.

  “About thirty years ago, when he was still a newborn, not more than a couple of months old, I took him in, like I did Rein and Woody, and raised him.”

  Ellyssa’s gaze shot to Rein. She had no idea what he must be feeling losing someone he loved. No idea at all.

  The brightness in Jordan’s eyes faded a little and a slow tick worked in his jawline as he continue, “I loved him like he was my very own.

  “We don’t know much about his mother, only that she was unmarried. She had him secretly. I guess her original plan had been to raise him and slowly integrate him into society.” He pulled his frail shoulders into a shrug.

  “When he was born with the dark hair, she knew he would never be accepted. Somehow, she learned about one of our people. She left the baby with them, and they brought him to me.

  “For years, he grew, he played, and he was intelligent, but he never spoke. No babbling or cooing, like other babies. Not until he was three, but even then, his words did not come the conventional way.” Jordan leaned forward. “He spoke in my head.”

  Forgetting to maintain unresponsiveness, Ellyssa’s eyes widened. Although she knew of Jeremy’s gift, had experienced it herself, the possibility of such a
n occurrence outside of The Center still seemed unfeasible.

  “His words were as clear as those I am speaking to you now. But there was more to it. He could make you know things, understand things.”

  “That is what happened to me,” she uttered in disbelief.

  “I thought I was going insane, when he first did it to me.” Chuckling, Jordan eased back.

  The old man’s laughter was deep and throaty, and fell from him easily. She liked it.

  As the chuckle died, Jordan’s dark eyes fixed on her, his expression turned serious. “Do you know why he could do that? Did it have anything to do with The Center?”

  Ellyssa considered the chances of Jeremy’s condition being a byproduct of The Center. It would definitely explain Jeremy’s unique ability. And it wasn’t like her father would ever admit such a weakness on his behalf or The Center’s. After all, the only reason Ellyssa had found out about Subject 20, Ida, was because… She paused at the thought.

  It was because of Jeremy.

  Did the strange dark-haired male somehow know he’d come from The Center?

  Ellyssa dismissed the idea. If he’d known, then Jordan would’ve known. But maybe, somehow, he had felt a connection. One strong enough that he’d reached out to her.

  As their expectant stares stayed locked on her, Ellyssa wondered how they would react to her own unique ability. Would they accept her as easily as they had Jeremy?

  She was torn.

  Her complete treachery toward her father, her brothers and sister, of everyone in society. But wasn’t what her father planned a betrayal, too? Genocide of all society, to be replaced by new and improved models.

  Ellyssa’s gaze flicked to Rein; his eyes scrutinized her, waiting for an answer.

  Now was not the time to share. But, eventually, she had to tell them.

  Ellyssa wet her lips. “I am not sure. He could have been born at The Center. If he was, though, I would not have been informed of such matters.”

  Jordan nodded, as if he’d expected as much.

  “Why was he so far from home?” she asked.

  The older man glanced at the doctor, who flipped his head in approval. “We have members in Chicago. They help us with supplies—food, medicine, other things. There are others in Kansas City, to help with delivery.”