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That time of course came when Nigel Hightower peered into those dark spectacles to see if the machine would, truly, again offer him pleasant dreams.
The spectacles hummed as they hugged his head. Lights pulsed and swirled. Nigel held his breath as he waited to discover if the machine offered him nightmare or dream.
Once more, Nigel found himself beneath a jungle's thick, green canopy. He did not call out for Clementine. He tried not to think of her, for he wanted pleasure, not heart-ache, from the machine. He wished for comfort rather than hurt. He did not wish to flee from that new world. He did not know where else he might turn.
The machine presented only jungle no matter in what direction Nigel looked. He pushed through the fauna. No temples emerged in his sight. His feet felt no ruins of stone paths. There was only the jungle, filled with heat and humidity, filled with the sounds of a thousand creatures even the replicant maker could not name. Nigel wondered from what corner of his mind did the machine pull from to paint the environment surrounding him. Nigel pushed through the jungle's shadows, pleading with himself to keep a little faith that the machine possessed something even for him.
Shadows thickened. The hairs of his forearms and neck stood upright. Leaves rustled. Nigel smelled an unfamiliar scent filling the thick air. The back of his head sensed eyes upon him. He turned and twisted, but only jungle filled his sight.
Anyone other than Nigel Hightower would have woken from their sleep screaming if the machine had painted their dream with an environment filled with such trepidation. But Nigel Hightower would not give up as easily. He did not want to be left alone, to suffer the loss of the children, to live in a world of dull, plastic and white halls, where no one would care to watch his creature creations play. So Nigel pushed harder through the jungle.
The jungle revealed what the machine pulled from the furthest reaches of Nigel's mind in a pair of glaring, red eyes. Nigel trembled as he caught his first glimpse of the creature. The animal disappeared in a wink, shrouded by jungle and shadow. Growls fell upon Nigel, who shook as he turned frantically trying to see the creature who so menacingly greeted the replicant maker upon his return to the machine.
The creature sprang upon Nigel with raking claws and penetrating teeth. Nigel screamed as the creature tore at him. In the machine, the pain felt real. The attack was no less furious in a dream. The creature roared, and Nigel heard his feelings towards the new world in the noise. In the animal's growl, he heard his envy, his fear and his hatred.
Nigel gasped and ripped the dark spectacles from his head, hurling them against his apartment's wall where they shattered onto the floor. Perspiration drenched him. His hands trembled. His heart raced. His eyes darted about the apartment, but he found no red eyes glaring at him from the shadows. No long teeth and curved claws fell upon him.
Nigel returned to his workbench as the pace of his heart slowed. He gathered all of his circuits and gears. He tested his scavenged metals and alloys. The machine gave him inspiration for another creature, for a project so incredible that not even the new world's dreamers could ignore his effort. It would be a creature the likes of which Nigel had never before resurrected from the old world, a wild beast of tooth and claw, with eyes so bright to illuminate fear in whatever direction they searched. Nigel's craft would assemble a lurking beast with silent footfalls and a bellowing roar.
The replicant maker worked in a frenzy. His focused sharpened on his tools. His fingers blurred as they riveted seams. They slowed to steadily install circuits.
The machine had brought hurt to the replicant maker when it brought everyone else pleasure.
The machine stole the children who had saved the replicant maker from his isolation.
So Nigel Hightower toiled through the hours. He worked to build his greatest creature yet. With one animal more, the replicant maker would paint the new world's dull, clean and white plastic walls with his revenge.
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Butcher, Baker and Replicant Maker Page 9