The soft tapping of Ihlia's and Oswald's feet as they raced down the twisted halls of the Nanite Research Dome bounced unnoticed off the walls and ceiling. The shock of what transpired threatened to keep Ihlia in an inattentive stupor the entirety of their escape. At least it would have, if not for the soft thud of fists on the glass of a nearby door the two passed on their escape route. Ihlia's eyes drifted lazily toward the circular window at the top of the steel door and caught sight of her beloved's distraught face; he desperately slammed his closed fists repeatedly against the transparent material.
“Donovan!” Ihlia wriggled from Oswald's grip and lunged at the door. Relieved to see the object of her affection alive, Ihlia busily worked to press the button responsible for opening the door. A grinding hiss and fiery sparks ended in nothing and dashed Ihlia's relief across the jagged rocks of reality yet again. Oswald finally stepped forward to the door next to Ihlia and examined the panel. After pressing a few buttons and avoiding a few more dangerous sparks flying from the electronic keypad, Oswald shook his head.
“It's no good, Bradich must have destroyed the panel altogether. Donovan was working on his brother's recovery in that room after the accident, as I was working on you in the other room. After the alarm went off for the self-destruct I went to see if I could override it, but it was too late. Now this… blast it, Bradich. What are you thinking?” Oswald gripped the metallic plate covering the panel and forced it open. After a few wire crosses, a green indicator appeared above the electronic panel. “There, we should be able to manually push the door open now.” Oswald gripped the metal grooves on the inside of the door and pulled. It only took him a few tries to realize the door simply would not move. “Oh no, it's jammed.”
The robotic voice interrupted their contemplation. “Reactor self-destruct sequence initiated. Meltdown in… two minutes… all personnel please report to the evacuation site.” On the other side of the door, Donovan stared at the younger me longingly. His face, contorted with terror, anger, and sadness cried out to Ihlia from behind the glass. He narrowed his eyes in a dark rage at his colleague, Oswald. He gestured to the young Ihlia and nodded with resolve, shouting something that neither of them could hear.
“I see. Fine, then, Donovan. I'll take care of her. I promise.” Oswald softly placed a hand atop Ihlia's head. Donovan's face dropped, and he hopelessly beat his fists against the glass a few more times. Oswald tugged my younger version's arm, “Come on, Ihlia. We have to get out of here; the whole place is going to blow.”
“No!” My younger self screamed violently. “I'm not going to leave him! Move out of the way! Donovan!” Ihlia gripped the metal door in the grooves Oswald recently abandoned. With one foot propped against the lip of the wall, the young sniper heaved and tugged until the bones in her fingers cracked. Oswald wrapped his arms around her waist and pried her from her endeavor.
“Ihlia! What good is it to die as well?! This is the kind of irrational thought I cannot stand! If we die, no one can tell this story! No one can warn the populace, no one can exact revenge on Bradich!” Oswald forcefully dragged the young Ihlia away from the door. As he raced down the hall toward his apparent escape route, his ears filled with the name “Donovan,” as Ihlia screamed it relentlessly.
Within a moment, the doctor and his human cargo burst into the basement garage. Given the unreliability of the elevator, Oswald opted to rush down the winding stairs. He shoved Ihlia into the jeep's rear seat once they reached the basement and sprinted to the titanic electromagnetic door. After quickly working his magic on the nearby manual override terminal, the sealing mechanism unlocked with a loud click.
As the vibrating hiss of the gigantic door slid open from the center, Oswald leapt into the driver seat of his vehicle and brought it to life just as the slit in the door appeared and the robotic voice echoed overhead, “Reactor self-destruct sequence initiated. Meltdown in… one minute and counting… all personnel please report to the evacuation site.”
“Come on, come on baby, go!” Oswald whispered passionately and hammered the accelerator against the floor. The roar of the engine and squeal of the tires rocketed the vehicle through the first steel frame. The long tunnel, alight with the spinning red lights that signaled the impending doom of the Nanite Research Dome, seemed endless in the crucial moments that followed.
“Reactor self-destruct sequence initiated. Meltdown in… thirty seconds and counting.”
Ihlia remained detached and stoic sprawled across the back seats. In her mind, perhaps the young Ihlia felt a quick death in the heat of the vaporized research laboratory would be preferable to her continued existence. Oswald shifted gears, and the rainy night filled with a gentle breeze. Lightning streaked the distant sky that appeared through the tiny slit in the second electromagnetic door as it groaned open.
“Reactor self-destruct sequence initiated. Meltdown in… ten seconds and counting.” The robotic voice began the eminent countdown; as “nine” rang out overhead Oswald shifted the vehicle into its final gear.
By the time “eight” crooned from the computerized voice, the jeep sailed overhead through the desert sky. As soon as the gripping tires hit the moist dirt, they screeched, and the jeep bolted into the darkness. Another transition overtook my senses, but rather than the dark distortion of my perception, the blinding light of the exploding facility consumed everything.
When my blurred vision returned, Ihlia stood next to Oswald in the hammering rain atop a large dune a few miles from Cairo's newest crater. Oswald's hands remained in the pockets of his khaki slacks, and as he stared at the desolation of the former research laboratory, a deep sigh passed between his lips. He walked with a tired gait to the trunk of the jeep and lifted popped it open. Ihlia glanced over as he removed her belongings. In his hands rested her typical attire, her twin daggers, and her father's hunting rifle.
“I saved these, Ihlia. I know I'm a genius, but this is some impressive handiwork even for someone of my intellectual caliber. Why I…” His voice trailed off as he stared at my younger version's face. Sadness furrowed his brows, and he stepped forward. He wrapped his arms around the young Ihlia's shoulders, and as he squeezed her in a tight embrace, she tilted her face up toward the heavens.
The shock slowly dissipated from my former self; the capacity for happiness and sadness seemed to vaporize like the facility had only moments prior, and Ihlia's emerald eyes that seemed to glisten with the shock of the events slowly narrowed with hateful determination. Even as her face remained tucked away against Oswald's shoulder, the burning desire for vengeance distorted her beautiful features and hardened them with the callousness I recognized as my own.
As the rain fell in sheets on the pair atop the desert dunes, I stared up at the heavens along with the young Ihlia. I watched the dark clouds tumble overhead, and a single wet droplet rolled down my upturned cheek. I rapidly blinked, surprised; until that point, the sensation of touch eluded me. I continued staring, and a second moist drop splashed on the opposite side of my face. I noticed that the dark clouds of the night sky churned perpetually, but as their darkness consumed my vision, the shape of a face protruded from the cloud cover. It looked like the face of an angel.
“So, I died after all,” I thought to myself.
“You're not dead, silly,” a tender young voice spoke from the void that blanketed my world. My eyes snapped open for what felt like the first time in days. The inky black surroundings smelled of sulfur and stagnance, and the distant sound of water droplets falling against protruding stone tickled my ears. The angelic face from the clouds hovered above me; the face, however, was quite real and belonged to the small girl I rescued from the hyped. A steady stream of tears cascaded down the young girl's cheeks before splashing softly against my face.
I realized the droplets of rain I perceived hitting me in my dreams were actually the tears of the small girl. Slowly, I understood that I lay at the bottom of th
e long cylindrical drop into which I cast the child and myself. Slowly, I understood that the impact from the fall rendered me unconscious, and slowly, I understood that my head rested safely on the girl's tiny thighs. After we collided with the cavern floor, the girl must have placed my head in her lap as I slept.
“So it would seem. I guess I'll count myself lucky, then.” I lifted a hand and rubbed my forehead. Though the girl giggled, her stifled laugh occurred between the pitiful sound of her sniffling. I glanced up at her and offered the child a gentle smile. “I'm sorry, I must have worried you. But there's no need to cry anymore. I'm just fine.”
“Hm? Oh, it's not that.” The child rubbed the tears from her eyes and sniffled once again.
“Then what's the matter?” I asked, confused.
“It's your dream,” she responded sympathetically, “it was just so sad…”
File 28: Elsa Friis
“My dream? I don't understand…” Despite the numbing haze sweeping across my brain like a fog, I locked gaze with the small girl's. Her long locks of blonde cascaded over her shoulders like waves and framed her pretty white face as she stared down at me. Her small mouth maintained a gentle smile even while the sound of her sniffles betrayed that she still sat on the verge of tears. With moderate effort, I clenched my abdominal muscles and lifted my head from her lap; once I found myself in an upright position, I twisted until I settled next to her.
“Yeah, your dream. What happened to that man? The man named Bradich? And what happened to Donovan? Did he… die?” The small child shifted; as she drew her legs against her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, I noticed the heavy white mist of her breath pouring from her lips with each of her labored exhales.
The caverns in which we sat likely never saw the gray of day. As such, an icy cold gripped us tighter even than the frigid world above. With a heavy sigh, I removed my large leather trench coat and draped it over the girl's shoulders. Despite what many believed to be “too little clothing,” each of my garments possessed state-of-the-art insulation designed specifically by Oswald to trap and reflect body heat. Besides, in a world where ninety percent of whatever encountered you imagined you dead or wondered what they might gain from your corpse, the cold quickly descended the priority list of concerns. I doubted the child had learned that harsh lesson yet, though.
“There, that should warm you up. So was I talking in my sleep or something?” I arched a brow as she questioned the nature of my past. Though the question left my lips as a light-hearted retort, my suspicions mounted when she paused. Her questions seemed quite detailed, far more so than any troubled sleep mumbles justified.
“Thank you, it does feel very warm!” The child gripped the corner of the coat's collar and twisted the material between her left hand's tiny fingers. Her right arm perpetually clutched her semi-soft, semi-mechanical toy bear against her armpit. As she idly twisted the coat, I garnered that her long pause indicated her attempt to find a way to explain herself. After a few seconds of palpable quiet, she finally spoke, “You weren't exactly talking. Just thinking very loudly. And why does ninety percent of everything want you dead, Ms. Ihlia?”
She read my thoughts like an open book fanned out on a table before her. Stunned, I sat wondering how much of my dream she perceived in great detail and how much filtered through in a vague haze. I attempted my best poker face and glanced down at her. She lowered her sea blue-green eyes to the cold, dark, and stony ground. I doubted she actually made anything out in the pitch black of the frozen cavern, but the action elicited a small grin from one corner of my mouth all the same. Was she shy?
“I'm not shy, but people think I'm weird when they find out,” she protested as soon as the thought crossed my mind. Her fingers stopped twirling the material of my coat and she glanced directly up at me for the first time since my awakening.
“I don't like that look people give me, that's all.” She stated calmly.
Seconds later, her eyes lit up like the stars no longer strewn across the night sky, “Oh, wow! Your eyes are glowing a little! That's so cool, how did you do that?” She giggled fervently.
“Hm? Oh, you mean my night vision. You know, once upon a time animals called cats used to roam the earth. There were big ones and small ones, and most of them had glowing eyes at night too. It helped them see better. It's the same as that.” I sounded like a babbling idiot to myself, but as I locked my eyes with the small girl's, her excitement deepened into genuine interest. I laughed and shook my head, “So, what's your name little miss telepath?”
“I'm Elsa, Elsa Friis. And this!” She held up the cyborg-teddy-bear, “this is Magnolia! Richter made her for me! Isn't she so cute?” With a satisfied hum, Elsa coiled the small, apparently female, bear into a tight embrace against her tiny chest. After a few seconds, she lifted her small finger and pointed it directly between my glowing eyes, “Oh, and I'm not a telepath. Richter and the doctor talked about it once. They said telepaths can talk to people with their minds, but no matter how hard I try nobody hears what I think. I can only hear what they think and feel what they feel.”
“So, closer to an empath? But I didn't think an empath heard people's thoughts. That's very strange, and not a very useful nanite either.” I pressed a finger against the tip of my chin in thought. The applications for a thought transmission and reception nanite would have been impressive, but a one way radio that also received the dead weight of emotions and sensations? Why in the world would someone afflict the poor child with such torture?
“Yeah, that's what they said too. Empath; I dunno, whatever it is I hear things people think and feel what they feel.” Elsa held her toy bear by its arms and imitated the motion of it walking across the cavern floor.
“Well you shouldn't listen to people's thoughts and emotions without permission, you know. You should only use it when you absolutely need it.” I flattened my palms against the chilly stone ground behind me. As I glanced down toward the young Elsa, I watched her eyes widen to the size of electrocapacitor plates.
“You know how to turn it off?!” She exclaimed. “Tell me, please!” Elsa's small hands wrapped around the circumference of my forearm. The small child tugged as though she begged me to share some information that eluded her. I stared at her in amazement. Not only did an individual infect her with a situationally useful nanite but proceeded thereafter to neglect instructing her on its use? Or perhaps Elsa's medulla oblongata housed the implant? I did not wish to even frighten myself with the idea; surely, no one possessed that cruel a heart.
“So, you don't know?” Elsa perceived my pondering thoughts, and her giddy anticipation waned in the face of disappointing reality. “What's a medulla whatever and why would it be cruel if an implant is there? Is that bad?” Elsa slowly retracted her grip on my forearm and doodled random patterns across Magnolia's head with her fingertip. The frown on her face spoke volumes of her fear that she was somehow different in a terrible way.
“The medulla oblongata makes your heart beat and makes you breathe, it does the things you don't have to think about. It's hard to explain. If you have a nanite like yours there, it means only the part of your brain you can't control could turn it off. I doubt that's the case, though, it likely just has a special way to think about it to activate or deactivate it,” I pointed out.
“It's true I don't know how, though. Only the person that gave you the implant would know how to turn it on and off. Each one works a little differently, you see. But don't ever be afraid just because you're different. There's absolutely nothing wrong with you, Elsa. In fact, that uniqueness makes you special.” I inwardly groaned at the hackneyed warm and fuzzy nonsense I spouted. Surely, even a child of Elsa's age found the words to be empty and contrite despite the sincerity with which I spoke them. I stole a glance at her; the radiant gleam on her face, complimented by her wide vibrant smile, informed me of the mistake in my assumptions.
“You can read my thoughts?! You knew I was afraid!” She beamed.
“Well, no, not exactly. I'm good at analysis that's all. I take the evidence of my surroundings and piece together logical, reasonable answers that might fit a given circumstance. Your posture, the way you turned your eyes away, and the somber tone in your voice suggested apprehension. Since that apprehension followed one of my thoughts, I logically concluded your fear of being branded different or bad,” I explained.
When the last words escaped my lips and I stared down at the young Elsa, I watched her features contort into a bemuddled mess. After a few seconds, she erupted into a fit of giggles.
“Well thank you, Ms. Ihlia. You hear that, Magnolia? I'm special!” Elsa placed both hands beneath the arms of her cyborg teddy and tossed it gently into the air. As it descended into her waiting arms, she enveloped it in a tight hug. I grinned and stood, wiping the grime and muck that collected on my backside during my involuntary nap. The insufferable dampness of the cavern caused the bits of dirt to cling all the more stubbornly to my rear, and my endeavor to brush it off did little to stifle Elsa's amused giggling.
“So, you think this is funny, hm?” I placed my hands on my hips.
“Yep!” Elsa thrust Magnolia toward me and wiggled her about as though taunting me. I waited patiently for the girl's laughter to subside.
Elsa's cybernetic bear looked handcrafted. The majority of its body consisted of a synthetic black fuzzy material resembling old cotton. Its face housed a single beady obsidian eye on its left side; on its right, a metallic plate coated the entire half of its head, and a glassy red eye dotted the plate's center. I questioned the creator's knowledge of animal anatomy since the right half of Magnolia's face lacked an ear.
NANO Archive 01: The City of Fire Page 34