Frivlok (Appointments on Plum Street Book 2)

by Eli Ingle

  He hopped through giant tyres and climbed through a cement pipe set into a small hill. He was nearly there.

  He arrived at a river with a raised plank to allow the students to cross. However, Gironda had built an automated device that swung a horizontal pole around in a circle. The pole swept over the plank and forced anyone crossing the river to make carefully timed jumps to avoid being knocked off. He stepped up onto the plank and moved forwards, pausing as the pole came into range. He jumped, the pole passing underneath him, and landed again. Hurrying forwards to avoid having to jump again, Rigel landed on the other side of the river bank, completely out of breath.

  “Nearly there. Ow. Nearly there,” he wheezed to himself.

  After a short run, he arrived at an imposing wooden wall. Suspended from a beam above his head, a thick rope hung down. Rigel grabbed it and pulled himself to the top, knowing that if he stopped, he would slide back down again and be unable to finish the course. At the top, he swung his legs on top of the wall and was greeted by Gironda.

  “Well done, Rigel,” the master said. “Nearly there now.”

  The final part of the course was a zip wire that crossed over a small lake and ended with a huge padded mattress nailed to a wall. The muddy silhouettes on the material let him know that his classmates had made it across. A small figure with green hair waited by the end and Rigel smiled, glad Rona had waited. A splashing made him look down and he frowned to see Wembly in the lake, trying to swim to the opposite side. Gironda followed his gaze and tutted.

  “Sometimes I wonder about that boy,” he sighed. “Here you go.” He handed Rigel a V-shaped piece of metal rope with material wrapped around each end for a handhold. Rigel lifted the rope over the wire and rested the crook in place, holding onto the material at either side. “Don’t let go,” advised Gironda, his glance flickering to Wembly again.

  “Not planning on it.” Rigel grinned and lifted his feet up.

  He picked up speed almost immediately and laughed as the wind howled across him. He swung from side to side and looked down at the lake below, passing in a blue-grey blur.

  All too soon he hit the mattress and let go of the rope, tossing it into the box beside the landing mat.

  “Well done,” smiled Rona, holding her arms outstretched. Mud dripped down her. “Hug it out?”

  “Come near me like that and you won’t be able to walk back to the dormitories.”

  She laughed and charged at him. At the last moment, he stepped to the side. Rona’s momentum carried her forwards. She yelped as she realised her mistake but it was too late. Rigel spun around as he heard the splash and roared with laughter as he saw her spluttering in the lake. She spat out a mouth full of water.

  “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Rona glared at him and a moment later it felt as though an invisible rope had tightened around his stomach and he grunted as it yanked him forwards towards the lake. Before he hit the water he was able to stretch out his arms and turn it into a kind of dive that saved him hitting the water with his face.

  The icy water hit him. Breathing out, Rigel released a stream of bubbles before breaking the surface and flicking his hair out of his eyes. Rona was laughing. He splashed her.

  “Oh well, I can get the thick of the mud off,” he commented, shaking his clothes under the water.

  Diving down, he twisted under the water and opened his eyes but the water was churned up by their diving and he could not see very far. Breaking the surface, he lay on his back and paddled lazily over to Rona, who was shivering.

  “I’m getting out,” she said.

  “Alright,” Rigel said, following her.

  The mild wind now felt bitingly cold after the water and made them shiver harder. Following the edge of the lake, they made their way to the changing rooms.

  After showering and getting dressed in their normal clothes, they stood outside, looking up at the rapidly darkening sky. The stars twinkled and the wind remained mild. Rigel smiled.

  Ten minutes passed in comfortable silence before the door banged behind them, making Rigel jump. He turned around and suppressed a grimace as a cybernetic man walked towards them.

  “Rigel, Rona,” said the cyborg, inclining his head at each of them. His voice sounded like a man’s, but the end of each syllable it buzzed as though he was speaking through a tinny loudspeaker. “You were not in the dining hall so I brought you your protein drinks, with my compliments.”

  “Thank you, Fats,” said Rona, stepping forwards and taking her glass off the silver tray the man was holding.

  “Thank you,” said Rigel, taking his own. He avoided looking at the man’s face and instead focused on his glass. Inside, the blue drink frothed to the rim, deflated and then frothed up again, repeating over and over.

  There was a rhythmic clicking as the man tilted his head, studying Rigel.

  “Is there a problem, Master Rigel?” he inquired.

  Forcing himself to look at the man, Rigel attempted to smile. “There is no problem. Thank you, Fats.”

  The man returned the smile, his face clicking as the motion was pulled and held into place.

  Fats stood for Fully Automated Thinking System. He was the result of one of the Institute’s more questionable lines of study. Students who had signed up for the programme forfeited themselves to the science division should they die or be injured close enough that death was inevitable.

  The specific procedure was classified, but the general idea that the scientists had devised some kind of mechanical-biological reconstruction serum (called MBR) was known. This was injected into the patients, who were then left for several days. Over this period, the serum duplicated itself as closely as possible to the biological areas that were damaged, thus forming artificial elements that would allow the patient to live.

  Early on, either the patients were too badly injured or the MBR was too slow-acting, so death occurred before the effects took hold. After that, there were early developmental problems as the patients died of the shock of the MBR as their bodies attacked the serum as an enemy body.

  Then, when these problems were overcome, the MBR was accepted by the body, held and repaired it, but the living tissues began growing around the mechanisms, forming grotesque organs and features that were then torn apart by the moving metal parts.

  Eventually, as the death toll rose even higher and students stopped volunteering, the programme was shut down and the scientists involved were quietly redistributed to other areas of study with little or no mention of the MBR on their records.

  That was until one of the students attempted to kill himself after relentless bullying. The student went to the shooting range after hours, broke into the arms locker and tried to shoot himself with a shotgun. It misfired and tore away the left side of his body and face. His screams had been heard half-way around the campus and the first to find him was his boyfriend, Sven.

  Sven had been one of the scientists on the MBR project. Almost insane with grief, he had dragged his boyfriend’s body to the disused lab and injected him with the MBR, knowing that when he was discovered he would be fired and arrested and would probably never work again. He worked for four days straight, minutely altering the MBR process so it correctly reconfigured Fats’ (then known as George) organs.

  Finally, it was done. And somehow the man had lived. He could not remember his own name and despite being repeatedly told it, renamed himself Fats The Institute had allowed him to live and kept all knowledge of the incident under wraps outside of the Institute. Rigel suspected that the fact Fats had lived was enough to let him remain, as they could use him to restart the project in the future – not that they admitted that in public, of course.

  Rigel wished he did not feel revulsion when he looked at Fats but there seemed to be something inherently wrong about him. It was not natural to be part human, part machine. It was not like having a pacemaker or some other kind of medical implant. It was t
he concept of having whole mechanical organs that did not seem natural. How could anyone know where one ended and the other began? It was not even as though the results were invisible – all over the left side of his body were clear traces of the MBR: his rib cage showed through, glistening with a coppery sheen; cogs and valves replaced parts of organs. The muscles in the left side of his neck had been replaced with cogs and gears. Never mind the millions of additional structures grown by the MBR under his skin that were not visible.

  Rigel turned away and leant against the railing, looking back over the landscape. He took a swig of his protein drink and grimaced.

  “It tastes like sadness and broken promises,” said Rona, wincing as she finished her own drink.

  “The formula is excellent for you,” said Fats, his eyelids clicking as he blinked. “Each drink is specifically manufactured to your body’s personal requirements—”

  “—and that way we can ensure you have the most strength for your training,” finished Rona. “I know that, but it still tastes disgusting.”

  Rigel agreed but could not be bothered to say anything. He had to drink it whether he enjoyed it or not.

  Fats walked forwards and rested on the bannister beside them.

  “It’s a lovely evening,” he commented. “Look, there’s Sirius, the dog star.” His arm clicked as it stretched into a pointing motion.

  “Oh yes,” said Rigel, gazing at the dot of light. “I used to be able to see that back on Earth.”

  “Indeed?”

  They stood in silence for a few minutes until the man stood up and looked around, the mechanisms constantly clicking as he did so.

  “I find I must retire to my quarters,” Fats said. “The hour grows late and my joints begin to ache. Do not forget you have your meditation class in seven minutes, twenty-one seconds … twenty seconds … nineteen seconds … eightee—”

  “Okay, thank you, Fats,” said Rigel. “We’ll be there.”

  “Good evening,” he said, taking their empty glasses and walking off.

  “Bye,” said Rona.

  Rigel sighed.

  “Come on, we better get going or we’ll be late.”

  Rona nodded. They linked arms and walked down the wooden steps and onto the field. The dew-damp grass swished under their feet, beading their shoes and legs with moisture. In the distance, they could see the treeline where two paper lanterns marked the beginning of the path.

  A minute later they arrived and passed between the trees, following the sets of lanterns that were pinned up every ten feet. Ahead of them, they could make out the shadowy outline of another student making their own way to class.

  At the end of the path, they arrived in a clearing where the lanterns were hung around the perimeter, filling woods with a pale orange glow. At the head of the class, facing the students, was Professor Erdiz, sitting on a slightly raised cushion, her legs folded and her arms resting comfortably on her lap. Her eyes were closed, but pale golden ones were painted on her eyelids. Rigel was not fooled.

  “Welcome, Rona, Rigel,” the professor said. Rigel grinned.

  “Hello.”

  Several students were there already, either sitting on their own cushions, facing Erdiz or standing around the edge holding whispered conversations.

  Rigel and Rona took places in the third row and made themselves comfortable.

  Erdiz was an interesting woman. She wore a white three-piece suit with a royal blue cape over her shoulders. Her fingernails were painted a pearly white. Her face was finely lined, giving the impression of being in her fifties or sixties, but her energy and grace gave the impression of being much younger. Her long hair was a patchy grey-gold and had been hurriedly tied into a bun, giving her a forgetful demeanour very much at odds with the rest of her character. A small pair of wire-rimmed glasses rested on her nose and a circlet of silver wrapped around her brow. Fixed to the front of this headband was a prism of crystal, taking up most of the space of her forehead. The Light Ones had not yet had a chance to ask her what this was for.

  Three more students arrived before Erdiz decided to start the class. She opened her eyes and examined the group, smiling slightly.

  “Today we will continue with our study of meditation. It is a practice ignored by many who do not truly grasp the significance of its contribution to our wellbeing. Why do we not train our minds? Why indeed? Our society is too fixated on what was and what is to be, so it neglects the now and realise one day that life was not lived. Meditation does not only strengthen the mind; it also prevents illness, improves general wellbeing and creates a mindfulness of the present so we may experience life as it happens around us, rather than through the veil of the past or expectations about the future.

  “The mind is everything. What you think, you become. You may not genuinely believe something about yourself, but if you spend long enough convincing your mind that you are what you want to be, it will have no other choice than to become what you tell it.

  “Now, let us close our eyes and cast aside the thoughts of the day. Concentrate only on your breathing. In … out … in … out. With each breath, imagine a great light filling your brain, and as you exhale, let the light fade. On the next breath, imagine the light filling your heart, and as you exhale, let the light fade. Repeat this until you think of nothing but the light. In … out … in … out.”

  Her voice faded and Rigel remained in the darkness, his mind and heart filling with imaginary light with each alternate breath. He noticed after a minute that he had been thinking over the events of the day and what had happened to the twins. He shook himself and brought his thoughts back to his breathing.

  Time passed and towards the end, Rigel managed to clear his thoughts and felt peace seep over him, until an image of a dark room filtered into Rigel’s mind. He was not sure if it his imagination or something more lucid. A man, dressed like a vicar sitting at a scrubbed table. As Rigel watched, the vicar reached up and tugged at his face. With revulsion and horror, Rigel saw that underneath the face was a grey, chiselled face of a-

  Erdiz rang a bell once, its chime resonating over them, the note holding in the hair before fading away. As if interrupted by the noise, the vision faded away.

  “Now slowly open your eyes with your thoughts remaining clear,” she instructed.

  Rigel opened his eyes and felt a smile creep across his face. The clearing looked brighter somehow, more vivid and the vision (if it was such) seemed irrelevant. Rona sighed, sounding content.

  “That will be all for this evening,” said the Professor, “although I invite you to stay longer if you wish.”

  The Light Ones stood up and, after saying goodbye, followed the path through the woods, across the field and back up to the main building of the Institute. Rona looked up at the clock on one of the towers.

  “I didn’t realise it was that late,” she said.

  “Neither did I,” said Rigel, following her gaze.

  They visited the dining hall and drank hot chocolate before retiring. Rigel said goodnight and made his way to his room.

  It was on the seventh floor, and although it was very small, it was large enough to house a bed and a little desk and chair. Rigel was rather fond of it. Pulling out his key, he unlocked the door and went inside, slipping off his shoes and appreciating the soft carpet. A wry smile came forth as he thought about his horrible home in England. How different life was now .... No need for the ritualistic listening to cassette tapes and filling his bedroom with light for fear of what was lurking in the dark.

  Rigel undressed, climbed into bed and fell asleep almost immediately. The meditation had relaxed his mind enough for that.

  The next morning he awoke to the sound of Rona knocking on his door.

  “Wake up, lazy.”

  He dressed and met her in the corridor before going down to breakfast.

  The dining hall was fullest at this time as all the students and masters got up at similar times to star
t the day. Afterwards, differing schedules (or no schedules at all) meant the students tended to eat their other meals and snacks at random times. For this, the kitchen was open all hours.

  Passing a large group of young people, Rigel spotted the twins sat amongst them and tried to ignore the venomous stares he got. They were covered in cuts and bruises.

  The Light Ones joined the queue and picked out toast, juice and, after a little hesitation, a Kozenian bubble. These strange foods were apparently a speciality, although Rigel had never heard of them before. A soft rubbery skin of varying colour was filled with thick syrup until it was the size of a tennis ball. The skin was punctured and the syrup sucked out. The skin could also be eaten as, despite having the texture of tough jelly, it was actually full of fibre. According to Jhoan – whom they had asked once after a lesson – the contents varied from pure sugar to a healthy sap so nutritious that it could sustain a person for a whole day. The Institute offered a range that tended towards the healthier side. The rows of glistening orbs were labelled with a tented card at the front of each row. The first read “Caffeine” and was a dark purple, while the last was labelled “Guts” and was a pure white. The colours in between lightened through the spectrum, each with its own properties such as caffeine and vitamins, vitamins only, protein and all other combinations. Rigel and Rona had chosen the second to the end, labelled “The Brick”, which was stony grey in colour. They had been advised by Captain Arentec to eat this one as it would build muscle and improve their overall health … like everything else, apparently. Rigel was starting to feel as though he were on a health farm.

  The rubbery orb slid across his tray and smacked into the edge as they arrived at the end of the counter at a copper-coloured machine. This was constructed to formulate a drink based on each student’s current diet, as programmed by the dieticians in the Institute. The recipes could be altered depending on whether a student needed to lose weight, build muscle, detox or various other options. As per usual, Rigel’s and Rona’s drinks were strength building. Rigel punched his student ID into the heavy keys on the front of the machine. A chilled glass appeared from a revolving door and a brass nozzle lowered itself into the glass. After a few seconds of grinding and churning, thick green goo filled the glass, the nozzle pulling upwards as it filled. A bell dinged inside and the glass was pushed forwards. Rigel took it, put it on his tray and waited for Rona. After hers was filled, they found an empty table and sat down.