Alien Bride (Love, Drugs, and Biopunk)

by McGill, Brie

  With a metal groan, the doors rolled open before he inputted anything.

  Ninkasi shivered, peering inside: against the far wall sat an empty hospital bed with rumpled, contusion-purple sheets, connected to a complex bank of computer screens. Swabs, syringes, and glass jars packed with gauze cluttered a grey marbled sink. Scab-purple curtains dangled from the ceiling and fluttered in the cold draft slicing through the room.

  A young woman appeared in the corner of the room, clutching Orion’s scarlet patchwork knapsack. Flowing robes of black silk dangled around her wraithlike frame, rippling with her contained, premeditated movements. Her stomach stretched with a pregnancy in the third trimester.

  Ninkasi opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

  Aleister and Nero were equally dumbfounded.

  The door slammed shut behind them.

  The girl approached slowly, taking one tiny, purposeful, powerful step at a time. “You’ve come to help.” She stared at them with green eyes flickering with the light of St. Elmo’s fire.

  Ninkasi felt a twisting, foreboding knot in her stomach, something about the girl that told her to run, run far away, as fast as she could.

  The girl lifted the bag, her dainty fingers, white like bone, digging into the fabric. “You’ve come to help. . . haven’t you?”

  “Come to help with what?” Aleister stepped in front of Ninkasi. “What are you, child?”

  Ninkasi shot a glance at Aleister. Could he feel it, too, the enormous stormy gravity of her fragile presence?

  The girl approached him languidly, each step a thunderous black demand and a desperate plea. “They’ve taken him to the basement.”

  “The basement?” Aleister raised a bushy eyebrow. “Who?”

  She presented him the bag. “We must hurry.” Her voice was mousy, vacant, each word ringing as if her statements were incomplete.

  Aleister tentatively accepted the sack, glancing from the bag to the girl. “This is. . . my bag. . .”

  Ninkasi noticed skin discolorations on the girl’s neck, her arms, bruises as if someone had struck her. “You mean, you know where Orion is?”

  “They took him to the basement.” The girl approached the door, moving with a ghoulish air. “Come.”

  “You can take us to Orion?” Ninkasi scrambled after her.

  The girl placed her hand inside the black biometrics box, opening the doors. “I cannot free him myself.” She exited.

  “Where is he? What’s happening?” Ninkasi shadowed her, despite the repelling aura, despite the ominous twitch in her gut that told her NO. “What are we doing?”

  The girl placed a frigid hand on her shoulder. “Come.”

  “We must prepare.” The girl inserted her hand into another black box, unlocking a storage room in the back of the building.

  Aleister slammed one hand against the wall beside her. “Buttercup, do you have a name?”

  She turned and cast him a fiery stare. “I am called Lilith.”

  “Well, Lilith, why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Aleister stalked her into the supply closet.

  “We must prepare.” Approaching a closet in the rear of the room, she slid open the creaky door.

  Grey walls, carpets the color of crusted scabs, every room in this facility looked the same.

  “For the basement?” Aleister loomed behind her.

  The girl leafed through hanging black garments with an emotionless expression.

  Aleister turned around, and whirled a finger in the air. “Nero, listen up.”

  He turned attentively.

  “Ninkasi and I are going to explore. . . the basement.” He eyed the girl with distrust, and cleared his throat. “The three of us still have considerable ground to cover with our current mission. Pull someone from another team and see that the job gets done. Blow it if I’m not out of here in eight hours.”

  Nero bowed his head. “Yes, Aleister.”

  He dismissed him with a wave of the hand. “This could take a while.”

  Nero scurried to the threshold of the room, and paused in the doorway. “Good luck. . . both of you.”

  Ninkasi smiled nervously.

  Lilith selected two garments from the closest, passing one to Ninkasi, one to Aleister. “It will serve you best to remain indistinguishable from the others.”

  Ninkasi lifted an eyebrow. “The others?”

  “Conceal yourselves. Travel close to me at all times.” Lilith closed the closet, and collapsed against the wall, sinking into a seated position. She wiped her forehead.

  Aleister extended a hand to help her to her feet. “Are you sure you should be doing this?”

  Closing her bony hand over his hand, her fingers pressed into his gilded emerald ring. “This is more than thirty centuries old. It belonged to the great kings of Sheol.”

  “Yes. . .” Aleister studied her little hand clasping his. “It belonged to my Uncle Eldon.”

  Lilith shook her head. “You must hide all identifying elements.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You mean my ring?”

  “They will recognize it.” She nodded. “They will know you.”

  “Cupcake, do you know who I am?” Aleister tugged his hand away, grasping the ring on his finger, vexed with internal debate.

  “I know everything there is to know of your bloodline.” She planted her hands against the wall, and teetered in a climb to her feet. “It is all they want to know, all that matters.” She cast him a fierce stare. “Hide yourself.”

  Scrunching his face into a bitter scowl, Aleister yanked the ring from his hand, eyes wide. Reaching to his neck, he unclasped a chain, securing the ring on his necklace.

  “Dress.” Lilith pointed to Ninkasi.

  Ninkasi opened her mouth to speak, but again, no words came out; she inched toward the closet and rolled open the door. “No peeking!” She climbed inside and shut the door, unhooking her suspenders. The closet reeked of stale incense.

  She heard Lilith’s eerie voice. “The longer we make Brother wait, the more dire his situation becomes.”

  Ninkasi climbed out of the baggy pants and shimmied the work shirt over her head.

  “You’re Orion’s sister?” The sound of Aleister’s feet clomping around the room.

  Ninkasi fought with the long black garment, trying to find the hole for her head, trying to determine which way was up, impossible in the blackness of the closet.

  Timorous little girl voice. “I was.”

  Throwing the robe over her head, Ninkasi wiggled into the garment, ripped open the door and took a deep breath.

  Donning a robe identical to her own, Aleister bowed.

  Lilith passed them each a pair of wide, lemon-framed sunglasses and black hats with wide brims. “We go unnoticed.”

  Ninkasi frowned. “I feel like I’m going to a funeral.”

  The girl’s lips curled with a twisted smile. “You are.”

  Slipping her hand into the biometric identification box, Lilith opened the elevator doors and disappeared into the glistening cage.

  Metallic doors slammed shut; an insect hummed.

  Plodding toward Lilith, Aleister hovered over her shoulder. “Tell me this elevator goes straight to the basement.”

  Lilith stared with wide eyes, burning eyes. “This elevator goes straight to hell.”

  Ninkasi grabbed the railing inside the elevator, hurtled into motion with a jolt.

  Aleister slapped an insect against his face. “Shit!” Glancing at his palm, he curled his lip with disgust. “A hornet?!” His voice cracked.

  Lilith shook her head. “There is no direct route of passage to the basement. One must pass every floor, every security checkpoint. The architecture makes infiltration extremely complicated.”

  Groaning, he smashed his forehead into the wall.

  “It is ironic.” She tilted her head.

  “What?” Wrinkling his nose, Aleister wiped the hornet goo from his cheek.

  The elevator came to a halt, din
ging, doors rolling open.

  Lilith glanced at the floor. “The facility was designed to keep subjects from escaping. Infiltration was not considered.”

  Ninkasi craned her neck forward. “Subjects?”

  “We go.” Lilith flagged them ahead, exiting the elevator.

  “Fucking hornets.” Aleister spat. “How the hell do you get hornets in an office building?”

  Ninkasi stepped out of the elevator, tilting her head back and blinking in awe. “What is this place. . .?”

  Aleister clutched his RCU, and frowned. "Whatever it is, it's far enough below ground to kill my reception. We can't dial out." Shaking his head, he stuffed it back into his robes.

  The glass floor glowed in the dark, coruscating with neon cords and winking circuitry, spanning outward into a vast, multi-tiered gallery, a shimmering labyrinth of technology. Staircases guarded with luminous blue panels of glass connected different floors, each floor boasting endless halls of neon offices, storefronts, and blinking lights. Blinding holograms leapt from the floor, women dancing with iridescent cans of beverages, vahans zooming from the floor into the ceiling, glittering tubs of food floating in the air.

  The ceiling was black; they had only the glare of high-tech commercialism to guide them.

  “This is the first level of the underground facility.” Lilith advanced with a tiny step. “This Garden of Earthly Delights.” She lifted her hands in a presenting gesture. “It’s where those of your kind that are kept may go to be entertained.”

  “My kind?” Ninkasi crossed her arms. “Entertained?”

  “They are forced to live with limited resources. Access to this level is considered a reward.” Lilith glanced to the side. “They are easily motivated by earthly delights.”

  “Hah!” Lunging forward, Aleister clapped his hands. “Stupid hornets!” Brushing his hands together, he swept an insect to the floor. Stomping the ground, he crushed the hornet’s body, and pirouetted on his toe, smearing the hornet’s guts against the glass. “That will teach you!”

  Hearing a buzz near her ear, she ducked.

  Lilith lowered her voice, leaning toward them. “You must keep your hoods over your faces, travel close to me. Let nothing distract you, and whatever happens, speak nothing to the Tall Ones.”

  “Ooh! Burritos!” Aleister stomped to a halt beside a kiosk in the center of the entertainment hall.

  Glancing at the robed figures passing by her, some slightly taller and some twice her size, Ninkasi swallowed, pulling the veil further over her face.

  Lilith locked one hand over her stomach. “Do you hunger?”

  “Yes.” Lifting one hand to rub his belly, he raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I hunger.”

  Ninkasi rubbed her elbows. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “You wish to eat” —Lilith pointed at the stand— “this food?”

  Scratching her head, Ninkasi turned to Lilith. “Is it wise to stop and eat right now? Shouldn’t we keep moving. . .?”

  “It may be wise.” She shrugged. “It is unknown when we may eat again.”

  Aleister pushed his thumb into his nose and wiggled his fingers, sticking his tongue out at Ninkasi. “See?”

  “It is unknown if we will live to eat again.” Lilith turned and tiptoed toward the stand. “I will purchase it for you.”

  Aleister crossed his arms. “I’d offer to pay, but I have a rotten feeling they don’t accept the standard currency here.”

  She dismissed him with the wave of a hand. “I must ensure they serve you something safe.”

  “Safe. . .” Ninkasi raised an eyebrow, and turned her back to the stand, taking in the milieu.

  A massive projector screen, spanning the length of an entire wall, flickered with the image of everyone in entertainment hall. When uncloaked surface dwellers stopped to make a purchase at a stand, for food, for merchandise, for entertainment, the screen zoomed in on their faces, displaying their names on the screen, along with details of the purchase and the person’s rating of his experience.

  The majority of surface dwellers appeared thrilled with their shopping experiences, thumbs-upping the screen.

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Ninkasi returned to the kiosk, wondering what on earth Lilith was ordering for them at—she glanced at the sign—Techthonic Burrito.

  She had a bad feeling about this. . .

  “No!” Lilith smacked the attendant’s hand from across the counter. “I said nothing made with the experimental test grains! That means no grains, nothing that was fed with grains, and nothing from a bottle preserved with hydrolyzed grains! Did you read the ingredients on the side of the squeeze bottle?!”

  The attendant’s lips quivered. "But there's no indication on the label that the grains in question are the experimental test grains—"

  "Of course there isn't!" Lilith grabbed the attendant by the shirt. "If the food was labeled 'experimental test crop,' what idiot do you think would buy it?" She shoved him backward. "No one! Not a soul!"

  The attendant's eyes welled with tears; he dropped the burrito on the floor with a nauseating splat.

  “Start again!” She wagged a bony finger in his face. "This time, use your brain!"

  Ninkasi inched beside her and whispered in her ear. “Lilith, can I ask. . . what. . . makes the food unsafe?”

  “Most of what is served in the entertainment hall has been patented by Techthonic Innovations, and was therefore subsequently designed to induce genetic aberrations in the subject.” She clicked her nails together. “Have you noticed a mysterious absence of elderly persons on this floor?”

  Ninkasi's eyes flitted around the room, and she nervously bunched the robes near her hips in a fist. "I thought the company offered. . . a generous retirement package?" She tilted her head.

  "What a clever euphemism" —she contemplatively clutched her chin— "for a grotesque, untimely death."

  The attendant passed a napkin packed with raw peppers and lettuce to Lilith. Spinning around, he burst into tears.

  Lilith nonchalantly passed the napkin to Aleister.

  He wrinkled his nose. “I ordered a burrito. Not lettuce.”

  “I purchased you a burrito.” She pointed at the napkin. “Every other ingredient used here is unsafe.”

  “Somehow” —Aleister chomped into a roll of pepper, lettuce, and napkin— “I don’t see the point.”

  Ninkasi poked him in the shoulder. “I doubt the napkins are safe.”

  He stuck out his tongue, defiantly displaying a wad of half-chewed food.

  Time was precious: Orion knew that at any moment, Aleister could press the button and eternally entomb him in this hellhole.

  Lifting his fingers to the edge of the ID box, he faltered, jerking his hand away.

  He didn’t know what to expect: his motivations were purely irrational. It was likely the room had been cleaned out, converted for another purpose long ago.

  Long after. . . her death.

  Orion hung his head, and shoved his hand into the box.

  Stepping into the room, he froze, gawking in disbelief: it was as if the stream of time had frozen, and a day had never passed.

  His mouth hung open. The bed was made with a lily-stitched duvet, snow-white like her innocence. He smelled the fresh-cut roses sitting in a crystal vase on her vanity. A black taffeta dress shimmered, slung over the back of the vanity chair in a lacy heap.

  His eyes zeroed on the dress: yes, he comforted himself, this was indeed a lie, a cruel illusion to break his heart.

  She never wore black, only the most vibrant colors.

  He had seen her in black only once. Orion covered his face with his hand.

  She wore black the day she sent him away, black the day the experiment was too much for her delicate body to bear, black the day she died.

  Feeling a chill, the hair on his arms prickled, and he tiptoed toward the vanity.

  Resting his hands against the smooth, polished wood, he hung his head, catching his breath—
he wondered how much longer the drugs would last.

  Leaning forward, he smelled the roses. He loved the roses.

  He loved her, and he loved to surround himself with roses because they smelled like her.

  He loved that if he shut his eyes and smelled the roses, he forgot the world and could, for a moment, imagine she was still here, still with him. He imagined they shared a life that ended differently, a life devoid of suffering.

  Orion steadied himself and collected the dress from the back of the chair. Finding the shoulders of the dress, he stretched it out in front of him, fingers kneading the sleek fabric. He marveled at the dress, at how tiny she was.

  He would tower over her now, finally a man.

  He bunched the fabric in a fist. It broke his heart, thinking about how petite she was, how gentle, how good-natured, and how utterly impossible it must have been to defend herself against someone like Andrealphus.

  Orion clenched the dress in a fist, biting his lip. Staring into the ceiling, he drowned in flashbacks and emotion.

  Shaking his head, he returned the dress, and sat in the velvet upholstered chair. Too tall for the chair, he hunched forward to see himself in the mirror.

  She kept her vanity clean. She was always tidy, always harping on him to clean up after himself—he felt a wave of shame, often letting his belfry fall into disaster.

  He never consented to this, this fucked up life. His heart bled for her.

  Opening the drawer to the vanity, Orion grabbed the first item that caught his eye: a small cylinder of lipstick. He removed the lid and twisted up the stick, nostalgically appraising the vibrant coral color. He rubbed the stick against his fingertip, and smeared the creamy makeup between his fingers.

  Taking a deep breath, Orion leaned forward in the chair, appraising himself in the mirror. Lifting a trembling hand to his face, he squinted, jaggedly applying the lipstick to his own lips.

  He had never worn lipstick before; he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. But, he ignored the drugs, and concentrated with his full attention, trying to imagine what it must have been like for her, to sit in this chair, to dress herself up every day. She was already beautiful; why she felt the need to wear any of these paints to make herself feel more beautiful, he understood less than the process of applying lipstick.