Profusion

by Stan C. Smith

  He walked through the gap that now existed beside Addison’s chamber. The chamber’s door was there, just as Helmich had said it would be. The door looked like an airplane’s emergency hatch. Bobby stood before the hatch as he had been told to do until the lock clicked. He pushed down on the lever and pulled hard. This broke the airtight seal, and the hatch opened. He stepped in and closed it behind him.

  He stood over the ten portions of Addison’s body. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped. He had assumed that, if the Lamotelokhai actually did what he asked, it would transform itself into ten pieces of featureless clay. The pieces before him looked like the result of a chainsaw massacre, minus the blood. Each body part still had Addison’s clothes on it. Bobby could now see the thing’s face, and he was relieved that the eyes were not moving or staring at him.

  Following the instructions he’d been given, he picked up one of the pieces, an arm with the shoulder attached. It was heavy, maybe fifteen pounds, and he decided the best way to carry it was to grip two of the fingers and dangle the arm at his side.

  He carried it to the hatch, waited for the click, opened the door, stepped through, and went to the next chamber’s hatch. The lock clicked, and he took the arm inside. He moved toward the middle of the chamber to put the arm on the floor.

  “Hello, Bobby.”

  Bobby froze. The voice had not come from his earpiece or the speakers above. Instead, it had come from within him, sounding very much like his own voice.

  The voice spoke again. “Perhaps now you can explain.”

  Bobby glanced up at one of the cameras in the ceiling. If he did anything other than what he was supposed to, Helmich would press a button and knock him out. If he spoke, the implants behind his ears would knock him out. But he had to do something.

  He tried forming silent words. “Is that you?”

  Everything went black.

  He awoke to a voice in his earpiece. “Please get up, Bobby. You must finish your task. Your friend Ashley is not a happy camper at this moment. If she were capable of speaking coherently, I think she would ask you to avoid talking, even in a whisper.”

  Bobby was flat on his back. His head hurt, especially where the implant was attached behind his left ear. The helmet they’d given him hadn’t done much to protect that area. He sat up. Addison’s arm was on the floor beside him.

  “Leave it where it is and attend to the others,” Helmich said in his ear.

  Bobby got up, stepped out of the chamber, and closed the hatch. He returned to the first chamber while imagining several ways he’d like to kill Helmich. One of them involved a baseball bat. He re-entered the first chamber and picked up the other arm.

  “For me to speak this way, you must have your hand upon a portion of me.” The voice was in his head again. “Your thoughts are many, and they are without singular meaning. Perhaps if you speak aloud.”

  Again Bobby looked at the ceiling camera. He couldn’t just stand there. It would look suspicious. So he carried the arm to the hatch and left the chamber. He entered the center room, passed by the second chamber, and waited by the door of the third chamber. He clamped his lips shut, determined this time to form mental words without involuntarily mouthing them.

  “I can’t.”

  “I understand you now,” it said. “Perhaps now you can explain.”

  The door clicked. Bobby had no choice but to enter the chamber. He concentrated on forming silent words. “I’m sorry for what I asked you to do.”

  “You said that you would explain. I am curious.”

  Bobby was standing in the middle of the third chamber. “I will, but first I have to let go for a second.” He placed the portion on the floor and quickly returned to the first chamber. He picked up another portion, this time a lower leg, and carried it to the fourth chamber.

  “Are you going to be okay?” he said silently, still careful to keep his lips clamped shut.

  “My portions are in close proximity, and therefore they can work together to accomplish cognitive functions, such as speaking to you.”

  Bobby deposited the leg and returned for the other lower leg. When he picked it up, the voice continued where it had left off.

  “It is not possible, however, for me to perform mechanical functions.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ask you to do this.”

  Bobby left the piece in the fifth chamber and returned for one of the thighs.

  “I do not understand,” the voice said.

  “It’s hard to explain. If I didn’t do it, Ashley would get hurt.”

  “Why?”

  Bobby left the thigh in the sixth chamber and went back for the other thigh. He was starting to sweat from the work.

  “It’s because of something they attached to my head,” he said silently. “If I say something I’m not supposed to, it automatically hurts Ashley. I have to do what they tell me to. That’s why I had to tell you to split up into parts.”

  There was no voice for some seconds after that. Bobby paused before placing the piece on the floor of the seventh chamber. He scratched his neck with his free hand, trying to look like he had an itch.

  Finally it spoke. “You are faced with an interesting dilemma.”

  “It’s not interesting, it’s terrible. Just a second.” He put the piece down and returned to the first chamber. There were four more pieces, one of which had to be left where it was. He decided it would be the head, because he didn’t want to pick it up. He grabbed the piece that used to be the butt and groin.

  “I need your help,” Bobby thought. It was getting easier to make clear statements without using his mouth. “We need to get out of here. But these people have Ashley. And they have Peter and Robert. We all need to get out of here, including you. Can you help with that?” He entered the eighth chamber and walked to the center.

  “An interesting dilemma indeed,” the voice said. “In this disaggregated state I do not have the capability to help you in a physical way.”

  Bobby put the piece on the floor and returned to the first chamber. He picked up the piece that had been the belly and headed for the ninth chamber.

  “We have to do something,” Bobby said. “There’s only one more piece of you to move after this one, and then they probably won’t let me touch you again. So we won’t be able to talk.”

  “You would like to talk to me after that?”

  “Yes! Even if you can’t do your normal stuff, if I can talk to you maybe you can help me figure out what to do.” Bobby was now standing in the ninth chamber.

  “You will need to keep a portion of me with you,” the voice said.

  “I can’t! They won’t let me.” Bobby could almost feel Helmich resting his finger on the knockout button.

  “If you wish to talk with me, you must keep a portion of me with you.”

  “Bobby?” It was Helmich in his earpiece.

  Bobby dropped the body part on the floor and returned to the first chamber. He avoided looking at Addison’s head as he gathered up the chest portion. He moved as slowly as he could without causing suspicion, but his mind frantically struggled to form the right words.

  “I can’t keep this part! I have to put it in the last room!”

  “You do not need the entire part,” the voice said. “Perhaps you could take a portion of it.”

  Bobby stepped into the space between the chambers. As he waited for the hatch to the tenth chamber to click, he pulled off a chunk the size of his fist, hoping there were no cameras there.

  “I’ve got some. Is it enough?”

  “It is difficult for me to know now. We will know soon.”

  The door clicked, but Bobby didn’t move. Helmich would see the chunk of Lamotelokhai in his hand as soon as Bobby stepped into the room. His pants didn’t have pockets. Trying to be discreet, he squeezed the chunk against his leg to make it flatter. He then slowly raised the hand holding the chunk up under his shirt, used two fingers to lift the elastic band of his pants, and tucked
the flattened chunk under the band. He turned the lever, pulled the door open, and stepped through the hatch. He stopped. His movements had caused the flattened chunk to slide down and almost come loose from his waistband. He shifted the larger chest portion he was carrying so that his arm held the smaller chunk in place.

  “I don’t know if I can do this! It’s going to fall and then they’ll know.”

  “The portion will not fall.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It will not fall.”

  Bobby took a step. The chunk stayed in place, so he walked to the center of the last chamber. “I have to put this piece down now. If this doesn’t work, I may never get to talk to you again.”

  “I will attempt to make it work.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Bobby said silently. He waited, but the voice did not reply. He placed the piece on the floor. As he stepped back he casually rested his hand on his waist to prevent the hidden chunk from dropping.

  The chunk was gone.

  “Nicely done, Bobby.” It was Helmich. “Now please return to the center viewing room. Close the door as you leave the chamber.”

  Bobby looked at the floor. The chunk wasn’t there. He took another step back. He didn’t feel it inside his pant leg. He tried to gather his thoughts. “Lamotelokhai, are you there?”

  There was no answer.

  “Bobby, for Ashley’s sake, please go to the center viewing room,” Helmich said in his ear.

  Bobby stepped out, closed the hatch, and went to the center room. He turned and gazed through the glass at Addison’s head. “Are you there? Can you hear me?”

  “Bobby?”

  Bobby almost jumped with joy. “It’s working! I can hear you!”

  “I have successfully patterned my cognitive activity so that I may speak to you with the smaller portion of me you removed.”

  Bobby thought, “I can’t find the piece I took. Where is it?”

  “Its particles have moved into your body.”

  Suddenly the room shook as the machinery below the floor kicked on again. Almost immediately the ten chambers began pulling further away from the center room.

  The voice was in his head again. “The distance between my portions is becoming greater. If the distance continues to increase at this rate, my cognitive functions will stop in twelve seconds.”

  “No!” Bobby screamed within his mind. He turned to one of the cameras and waved his hands over his head, but he knew it would do no good. The chambers were now at least fifty yards out into a vast dark space, and they were still rolling away.

  “If you wish to have my help, you will need to decrease the distance between my portions. My cognitive functions will stop in three seconds.”

  Bobby could only stand and stare at the receding chambers. Finally, the machinery stopped churning and fell silent. The chambers were now small rectangles of white light in the distance, evenly spread in a wide circle around the center room.

  “Lamotelokhai? Addison?”

  There was no response.

  The elevator shaft in the center of the room opened. Men and women in green doctor clothes spilled out, each of them carrying a computer or some other device, and they quickly started setting them up in the room. Helmich came out of the elevator last. He grasped Bobby’s shoulders and smiled at him, as if he were a proud father.

  “What an invigorating and successful day!” he said. “You have been most helpful. Come, I will take you to see Ashley. You may want to apologize to her for what you have put her through.”

  Bobby followed him into the elevator, his thoughts silent as well as his mouth. The doors slid shut, and they were alone.

  “I believe we deserve a treat.” Helmich said. Suddenly he clapped his hands together. “Say, do you like ice cream?”

  Eight

  The first light of morning drove away the opaque blackness and then the murky shadows of the forest near the river the local humans called Méanmaél. This was Mbaiso’s favorite time for activities that served no purpose other than amusement—activities that distracted the tree kangaroo from the tasks that would fill the rest of his day.

  With no particular destination, Mbaiso made his way along the river, sniffing and pawing at anything interesting. Each time his path took him close to the water’s edge, he became acutely alert to the possible presence of crocodiles. Due to Mbaiso’s own actions many days ago, crocodiles were now more abundant in the area.

  A slight movement in the leaf litter caught his eye. Cautiously, he stepped closer. The moving object appeared to be a brown worm. Now this was an interesting distraction. Mbaiso had seen worms like this before. Many other creatures never had the opportunity to learn to avoid such a worm, as their first encounter was nearly always their last.

  The tree kangaroo circled to one side of the worm and then to the other, carefully investigating the arrangement of leaves and soil around it. The worm continued wriggling back and forth as Mbaiso looked for the most promising angle of approach. He did not intend to eat the worm or even to kill it. He desired only to touch it. Finally, based upon the area’s spatial parameters, Mbaiso selected a position, dug his hind claws in for leverage, and lunged forward. His intent was to jump past the worm with enough speed to avoid danger, touching the worm in the process.

  The leaf litter around the worm exploded. In a fraction of the blink of a tree kangaroo’s eye, a broad head shot out, jaws gaping, and two long fangs slammed into Mbaiso’s abdomen, injecting a lethal dose of venom. The head immediately pulled back, releasing him.

  Mbaiso tumbled on the ground and slid to a stop. He got up on his haunches and gazed at the creature, no longer hidden beneath the litter. The worm-like tail, which typically acted as a lure, was attached to a large snake, much larger than Mbaiso had predicted—and much faster. The villagers called the snake malan. Samuel called it a death adder.

  Mbaiso scurried up a tree to avoid a second dose of venom. A strange sensation began emanating from the bite, spreading to his legs. Soon his legs began shaking, and it became difficult to maintain his balance. This was followed by numbness. Gradually, the lack of feeling became so complete that Mbaiso had to use visual cues to be sure he was still grasping the tree’s bark. He remained in the same position until the numbness passed. By this time, low shafts of sunlight were beginning to cut through the forest canopy. Although unintentional, the encounter with the snake’s venom had been an interesting and unique experience. Mbaiso had existed for thousands of years, and unique experiences were not easy to come by. Mbaiso decided he would do it again when he had the opportunity.

  Finally, the tree kangaroo descended to the ground and returned to the bank of the river to quench his abnormally strong thirst. He scanned the water’s edge for evidence of waiting crocodiles. Satisfied that it was safe, he took a long drink.

  Suddenly a wave of agitation washed over him. He sat up on his haunches, ears cocked, listening. Nothing unusual. But the agitation persisted. He focused his attention inward, probing his mind for the source of the sensation. His consciousness extended fingers of thought, systematically peeling away layers of his processing centers, finally examining the subtle changes that had taken place during the first moment he had detected the uneasy feeling. Disaggregated pieces gradually came together, bringing the feeling’s component parts into focus.

  The uneasy feeling had nothing to do with the residual effects of the snake’s venom. Instead, it was linked to an abrupt cessation of an incoming signal. The signal had previously been so faint that Mbaiso hadn’t even been aware of it until it had stopped. Further probing revealed that the information processing centers that had detected the sudden absence of the incoming signal were those that had previously allowed Mbaiso to communicate with the Creator.

  He climbed to a comfortable spot in a tree so he could contemplate this in safety. He sprawled on his belly on a thick branch and closed his eyes. Apparently, without Mbaiso knowing it, a faint signal from the Creator had continued after the C
reator had departed. The signal had been too faint to contain information or instructions, but it did signify that the creator had existed somewhere beyond the forest that had always been Mbaiso’s home.

  But for some reason the signal had stopped. Perhaps the Creator had moved much farther away. Possibly it had even left the great forest of this world. Or perhaps the Creator had ceased to exist. Mbaiso rested upon the limb, considering the implications of each scenario, until the sun was at its highest position of the day. The abrupt end to the Creator’s signal would almost certainly impact the preparations he had supervised for many days. He did not know if the preparations were yet sufficient. But after analyzing possible consequences of waiting for further preparation, he decided it was time to move ahead with his plans.

  Driven by renewed purpose, Mbaiso left the Méanmaél and made his way up a gently sloping hill, sometimes leaping from tree to tree and sometimes hopping on the ground. Upon the hill’s broad plateau was a dense stand of uncommonly tall khaim trees. Although nearly invisible from the forest floor, an elaborate network of tunnels and chambers hung in the canopy of the trees, a small-scale version of the hanging village of the humans where Mbaiso had once lived.

  He stopped between the buttress roots of a tree just beyond the border of the hanging tunnels. He twitched his nostrils, sniffing the air, and detected the scent of a creature that was mostly human. In addition to the scent, he heard a faint sound, the creature’s voice. Mbaiso leapt onto the tree’s trunk and dug his claws into the bark to keep from sliding back down. He pumped his hind legs, thrusting himself a full body-length higher, and dug in again. He repeated this until he entered a hut far above the forest floor.

  In the center of the hut, a dark figure sat with his back vertical and his legs folded beneath him. He was human, but not quite like any human Mbaiso had encountered before. The other humans had called him Addison.

  Mbaiso cautiously padded closer but then sat back on his haunches to wait. The creature did not appear to be aware of his presence yet. His eyes were closed, and he was speaking, though in an unusual way, his voice rising and falling rhythmically. The almost-human creature held his arms in the air before him, bouncing his fingers up and down with the rising and falling of his voice.