by Sean Cullen
“What a magnificent spectacle, eh Mahkmed?” Hamish X sighed. “I’ve never seen this place look better.”
Mahkmed’s only answer was a miserable whimper. Certainly, the sight of his life’s work going up in flames was enough of a blow, but the added humiliation of Hamish X standing on his chest made everything slightly more depressing. The soles of the fabled boots dug into Mahkmed’s puffy flesh, causing him a great deal of discomfort. His hands and feet were bound tightly together behind his back.
“Well you should whimper, Mahkmed. Does it hurt to be trampled on? Imagine how the children ground under your boot heels these twenty years might feel.”
Hamish X hopped down onto the ground. He picked up his backpack and took one last look at the burning factory. Turning to walk up the street, he was surprised to see a boy his own age standing in his path. The boy was dressed in rags, but Hamish X didn’t recognize him from Happy Smiles. Perhaps he was one of the many children who lived rough on the streets of Cairo? He didn’t look malnourished. In fact, he looked healthy and fit.
“Hamish X,” the boy said. His teeth flashed white in contrast to the dark skin of his face. “I come from the King of Switzerland.”
“Who?” Hamish X was confused. “There is no King in Switzerland.”
The sound of a distant helicopter made the boy jump. His voice became urgent. “I haven’t time. They’ll be here soon. The King wants you to have this.” The boy thrust out his hand. In his palm was a pocketknife, shiny and new. A silver cross was inlaid on the side. “Keep it secret. Don’t show it to them.” He pointed at the approaching black helicopter. Quickly, he slapped the knife into Hamish X’s hand, and with a small wave he darted between two buildings and disappeared.
Puzzled, Hamish X looked at the knife. He hefted it. It felt impossibly light in his palm. The helicopter was coming closer. He looked up into the sky, shielding his eyes against the midday sun. Dust rose as the helicopter descended. Hamish X felt a growing dread as it approached. Looking down at the knife in his palm, he felt a sudden urge to hide it from view. Some instinct told him he should keep the strange object a secret from whoever was in the helicopter. He slid the knife into his left boot.
“Hamish X …” A beautiful female voice emanated from a speaker on the belly of the helicopter. “Stay where you are. Mother’s here.”
“Mother?” The helicopter bore the logo of the ODA, sickly and yellow. Hamish X knew he should run but somehow the Voice compelled him to stand still.
When the craft was on the ground, a side door opened and Mr. Sweet stepped out into the dusty street. “Hamish X. It’s time to come back with us …” Hamish X climbed into the hatchway, the knife in his boot forgotten.
THE KING COUGHED as he finished his story. A raccoon offered him a glass of water which he accepted gratefully. “Thank you, George.” Liam took a sip, his hands shaking so badly that he almost spilled his drink. Refreshed, he went on speaking. “The knife is made of an alloy that is undetectable to X-ray and deep radar. It’s a tracking device that has helped me keep tabs on Hamish X and his movements. We found a very interesting pattern.”
The King indicated the screen. A map showed a series of red lines criss-crossing the face of the earth. Hamish X had travelled back and forth in the last four years and there was a definite pattern. All the lines radiated out from a central location on the eastern seaboard of the United States.
“They all lead back to Providence, Rhode Island.”
“The HQ of them Grey Creeps.”
“Every three or four months, Hamish X is released into the world. He has an adventure. The ODA then retrieve him.”
“So he’s workin’ for the ODA?” Mimi shook her head in disbelief.
“No, dear Mimi. I don’t think Hamish X has any idea that they’re using him.”
“Why doesn’t he remember anything of this?” Parveen asked. “His recollections of his past life and adventures are vague at best. He seems to retain skills and abilities but no long-term memories.”
The King nodded. “Here’s where a strange story becomes even stranger. You’re right. His lack of memories is very weird. What if I told you that Hamish X, the boy who is your friend, might not really be a boy at all?”
“Wuh?” Mimi crossed her arms. “Whaddya talkin’ about? He’s a boy all right.”
“A boy in appearance and function, but he is also something more …”
“A computer!” Parveen breathed.
“Got it in one!” Liam smiled.
“A computer?” Mimi scoffed. “That’s just stupid. Anyone can see he’s a kid just like you and me.”
“I don’t know, Mimi …” Parveen said. “A boy who never ages? A boy with superhuman abilities? He’s like no other boy on earth.”
“He’s our friend,” Mimi said flatly. “Shore he’s weird and jest now he’s more than a little wacko but … he ain’t just some … machine.” Mimi’s voice cracked as she tried to hold back tears.
The King’s voice was calm. “Mimi, I know you care for Hamish X. You’re a good friend and that’s just what he needs right now. He can’t make this decision for himself.” Liam squeezed her shoulder and smiled. “This may be the greatest gift you could give him. Maybe we can find some way to set him free.”
Mimi looked into the King’s eyes. She saw nothing but concern. “Will it hurt ’im?”
Liam frowned. “Perhaps.”
Mimi sat back, a fierce scowl on her face. The thought of people hurting Hamish X made her angry, but she could see no other way.
“Mimi,” Parveen said softly. She turned and looked into his eyes, large and brown behind his thick glasses. “Hamish X is not happy as he is. You can see that. The only hope we have is to trust these people. I suggest we do so.”
Mimi looked at the King. His blue eyes were filled with sympathy. “I promise, we will do everything we can to make sure he isn’t harmed.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. She roughly knuckled them away. “Okay. Let’s do it. But if anybody hurts him, they answer to me. Understood?”
“Understood.” The King pushed himself to his feet. Reaching for his crutches, he called, “George! Prepare the computer lab!”
Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet
The rain soaked the agents to the skin as they all lined up in front of Mr. Candy and Mr. Sweet. They were spattered in mud up to their knees. The green meadow was green no more. The search had churned up the once lovely turf into a morass of black mud.
“Report,” Mr. Sweet demanded.
“No sign of the fugitives, Mr. Sweet. We have searched everywhere in a two-kilometre radius and there is no clue as to their whereabouts.”
Mr. Sweet stood silently for a full minute in the drizzle. The searchers waited patiently in their drenched ranks for his pronouncement. “Pack up,” he said finally. “We can’t stay here. We will attempt to track him by other means.”
The agents broke ranks and trotted for their vehicles. Mr. Sweet and Mr. Candy walked towards a waiting helicopter.
“This is most annoying, Mr. Sweet. Most annoying.”
“Patience, Mr. Candy. We have a little time yet. We will find them.”
They reached the helicopter. Mr. Sweet opened the door and said, “Mother?”
“Yes?” The feminine voice filled the cockpit.
“Run another scan of all the satellite data. Concentrate on the moment the tracking device went down.”
“Running.”
Chapter 11
Less than an hour later, after a swift journey down the elevator to the Technical Department on the third level, they found themselves looking down through a window into a darkened operating theatre.42 Hamish X lay on a shiny metal table. He remained in his sleeping state, oblivious to the activity around him. A team composed of children and raccoons in white surgical scrubs ranged around the sleeping boy. The team was busy attaching a bewildering array of cables to Hamish X’s hands, forehead and most of all to his big shiny boots. The cables were fi
xed in place with a clear glue applied to round pads that were then stuck to his skin.
Hamish X’s clothes were gone, replaced with a thin paper surgical gown. The boots seemed even stranger than they usually did, stuck as they were on the ends of his bare legs. Mimi’s heart went out to her friend. He looked so vulnerable in the midst of all the machines, in an island of light surrounded by darkness.
“Poor boy …” Mrs. Francis said. She and Mr. Kipling had accompanied Hamish X from the airship and they stood in the little group clustered at the window.
“I assure you he’s in good hands,” King Liam said.
“Not him,” Mrs. Francis said, clucking softly. “It’s you I’m worried about. Don’t you ever brush that hair?” She licked her palm and tried to flatten a stray lock of red hair that stood straight up from the King’s scalp. He squirmed under her attentions. “And those clothes. Have they never seen an iron? Did you dress in the dark? Honestly!” She tugged at the King’s tunic, trying to straighten out some wrinkles. Aidan and Cara strained to stifle their giggles at the King’s discomfort. “No adults indeed. It shows. Believe me, it shows!”
“Please, Mrs. Francis!” the King begged. “I am trying to concentrate.”
Mimi laughed. “Give it up, yer Majesty. You lost that battle when ya let ’er in the front door.”
The King groaned and submitted to Mrs. Francis’s ministrations with as much grace as he could muster. Parveen tried to distract him from his discomfort. “Tell me, what are all the machines and cables for?”
“The machines are monitoring and imaging devices. They are attached to important nerve centres in Hamish X’s body, and using the data they generate … Ow! Mrs. Francis, please … we can build an internal picture of his body. We want to take a close look at him before we attempt anything drastic.”
“Majesty,” a raccoon voice came from behind the group. They turned to see one of the little creatures standing at the door of the little observation room. It held a small black remote control in its paw. “The imager is prepared.”
Grateful for the opportunity, King Liam pulled gently but firmly away from Mrs. Francis’s attentions. He went to the raccoon and took the remote. Pointing the small device at the empty space in front of him, he thumbed a button.
Everyone gasped as an image appeared, hovering in space in the centre of the room. It was Hamish X, about three times his natural size, floating a metre above the ground. Every feature was picked out in minute detail, from the dishevelled hairs on his head to the individual pores in his skin.
“Amazing,” Mr. Kipling breathed.
“Truly.” Liam moved forward until he was standing right beside the projection. “George and I have been working on image projection together for a long time. George really is very clever.”
The George raccoon bowed. “You are too kind, Majesty.”
The King beckoned to the others, who began to gather around the giant Hamish X.
“Come closer. The detail is marvellous. My technical staff is amazing. These images are miles ahead of anything you can find in the commercial holographic projection field.” The King punched another button. The image spun slowly to show the sleeping boy from all angles.
“The MRI, or Magnetic Resonance Imaging, machine will allow us to look inside Hamish X and see what there is to be seen.43 Our machine is somewhat more advanced than what the average hospital provides. Using our technology, we can peel away the layers without harming the patient.”
The image changed and now they looked at a Hamish X without his skin. All his muscles were exposed to view. Mimi felt slightly sick but fascinated at the same time. Ropy cables of red and purple stretched along the bones of Hamish X’s skeleton. His face was a grinning, skinless skull.
“Goodness,” Mrs. Francis gasped, burying her face in Mr. Kipling’s chest.
“Gross,” Mimi said.
“Neat,” Parveen pronounced.
“Believe me, Mrs. Francis, Hamish X doesn’t feel a thing.”
Mrs. Francis reluctantly turned her face to look at the image.
Mimi forced herself to examine the disgusting sight. Something was strange about the picture. She thought for a moment and then realized what it was.
“The boots!”
“Yes, Mimi, the boots. They don’t register at all on our scans. They are made of some material that we have never seen before.”
“Weird,” was all Mimi could say. Hamish X stripped of his skin looked bizarre enough, but without the boots and his skin he looked positively naked.
“It gets weirder,” the King said. He reached out with one finger to touch the image. The tip of his finger passed through the muscle covering Hamish X’s bicep. “The muscles are all in the right place but they are much denser than they should be in a child of Hamish X’s apparent age. In fact, they are denser than the muscles of even a professional body builder.”
“How is that possible?” Parveen peered closely at the projection.
“On its own, we could dismiss his strange strength as a freak of nature, a fluke that allows Hamish X to perform amazing feats of strength. But it isn’t the only thing that’s odd. Let’s look deeper.” The King toggled another button. “It gets even more interesting.” The image jumped again and the muscles disappeared. A network of thin lines outlined the shape of a human body. “The nervous system. Each one of these little filaments is a nerve.” The nerves looked almost like the roots of a plant. There was a thick central root that ran down the centre like a tree trunk. Branching off into finer and finer filaments was a network that formed the shape of Hamish X’s skull, arms, hands, legs, and feet. The farther away from the spine, the thinner the filaments became.
Liam broke the silence. “Notice anything strange?”
Mimi shrugged. “It’s all pretty screwy.”
Parveen whistled. “There are too many nerves. Especially around his feet.”
“What do you mean?” the King’s eyes sparkled.
Parveen peered at the image for a moment longer and said, “There are roughly three times the number of nerves running through his body than are found in a normal human being. That’s just a guess.”
“A good guess, Parveen. Yes. His nerve structure, like his muscle system, is much denser. That gives him faster reflexes. The other advantage for him is that he can carry more information to his brain.”
Mimi pointed. “That’s where the boots are, ain’t it.”
“Yes. They are integrated into his nervous system. That’s why he can’t remove them. They have become part of his flesh. Someone has altered Hamish X’s nervous system to accommodate huge volumes of energy, sensation, and information and grafted the boots onto his body.”
“The ODA?” Mr. Kipling asked.
“Of course. They have modified Hamish X for some purpose. We need to know what that purpose is.” The remote slipped from the King’s fingers. Mimi reached out, quick as a cat, and caught the little device just inches from the tile floor. She handed it back to the King. “Thank you, Mimi. I’m a little overexcited.” He pressed another button. “Let’s look at the brain scan.”
The image jumped, and there, turning slowly, was a colourful, pulsing mass of wrinkled tissue. Split down the middle, it was like two beans pressed together. The ghostly outline of Hamish X’s skull was barely visible.
“Incredible,” breathed the King.
“That’s his brain?” Mimi gasped.
“Yes,” Liam whispered. “But … it’s impossible.”
“What’s impossible?” Mrs. Francis was finally able to speak.
“It’s so … hot!” Parveen said softly. The image looked like a throbbing ball of fire, flaring in space. Its entire surface rippled with colours ranging from deep orange to bright yellow.
“A good choice of words, Parveen. Yes. Hot indeed.” The King punched a button. A second blob appeared beside the first. The second blob had some orange, but most of its surface was a cool blue with some orange flashes. “Here … This is a n
ormal human brain. We use only about ten percent of brain capacity. Hamish X’s brain looks closer to eighty percent. It’s amazing. The ODA have made him into a walking computer processor. His whole body is like a conduit for energy.”
“Why would they do that?” Parveen rubbed his glasses with his shirttail, drawing a disapproving glare from Mrs. Francis. He dropped the shirttail and switched to a handkerchief dredged from his pants pocket.
“We can only guess. That is why I coaxed Hamish X back here.”
The King turned to them and addressed them earnestly. “I believe that only Hamish X can tell us what has been done to him. First, however, we must break down some of his system software.”
“You can’t talk about him that way,” Mrs. Francis cried, close to tears. “He’s a little boy, not a machine.”
King Liam took Mrs. Francis’s hand. “No. He is both a little boy and a machine. What I hope to do, I do for the little boy, Mrs. Francis. He will be whole only when he is free of the Grey Agents’ influence. Please, you must understand that what I must do, I do for all the children in the Hollow Mountain, all the children around the world who fall under the ODA’s sway, but most of all … for him.”
He pointed through the window where Hamish X lay on the silver table. The medical team was finished with their preparations. They stood waiting, looking up to the window for some signal from their King.
“It may be dangerous. Together with my technical team, I’ve created a program that will be uploaded into Hamish X’s consciousness. Then I will attempt to enter his sleeping mind through a new experimental procedure. I won’t lie to you: the procedure will be dangerous for us both. I am going to try to restore his memories and revive him. I know that you are all his friends and I won’t do anything without your permission.”
Mimi, Parveen, Mrs. Francis, and Mr. Kipling pressed forward, huddling together to look down at the sleeping boy. Mr. Kipling put an arm around Mrs. Francis and held her close. Mrs. Francis draped her warm bulk over the two children. For a long time, they just looked down at their friend, imagining a world where he didn’t come back to them. At last, Mimi stepped forward and stood nose to nose with the King. Her green eyes stared hard into his blue ones.