FERTS

by Grace Hudson

  That night, Pinnacle Officer Wilcox lay awake, the theta sounds reverberating in his mind, flipping his thoughts this way and that.

  Blue eyes stared at him from behind his eyelids, blinking intermittently.

  Get out of my head, bitch.

  The eyes blinked back knowingly.

  She had been a scientist at his old facility, he remembered her large, kind blue eyes, still vivid after all these years. She had been his protégée, a brilliant mind to match her beautiful face. Her hair was dark, he used to marvel at the way it fell around her shoulders. Her body was slender, delicate, almost fragile to the touch. And how he ached to touch.

  Beth.

  Her name was Elizabeth, Beth for short. He loved the way her name sounded on his lips, it seemed to him to simulate the sound of breath, the sound of life.

  She had been the one that he would choose to share his dream, the only one who would understand his plan, his methods, his vision of order. For much of their time as colleagues, she had not been receptive to his advances. Over time, he had believed he was winning her over, they had spent time together outside of work, discussing theories and research papers of note. The time had come, Wilcox had decided. He would ask her to be his, she would be the one for him, and they would embark on their life together, united by science, linked by a common goal.

  Two nights before he had planned to declare his intentions, he had been deeply absorbed in his work, a basic anatomy study. He had made several incisions, removing the left kidney for observation and laying it on the metal table for further study. He was in the process of removing the pancreas when he heard a gasp in the doorway.

  Beth stood rigid, face blanched in the cold, blue lights of the laboratory.

  “Wilcox. What are you doing?”

  Wilcox turned to face her, hands bloodied black in the cold light.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This.” She gestured, slender arm outstretched, nails glinting. A wheezing breath came from the table, the pallid arm raising up in protest. Beth’s eyes widened, mouth hanging open in shock.

  “What? She is alive? I suspected… I thought what you were doing was unscheduled, against regulation. But she is alive?” Beth took a small step backwards towards the door.

  “But Beth. I thought you understood. I thought I explained all of this to you. This is my work, this is what must be done to find new ways, ways to better our society, ways to improve on what nature has provided. This is the way forward! Don’t you understand? Darling, don’t you understand what a gift this is?”

  Beth took another step backwards, eyes darting to the exit. Her voice was low, uninflected.

  “Why did you call me darling?”

  Wilcox smiled broadly, waving his scalpel in his bloodied hand.

  “Because that is what you are to me, Beth! I was going to wait until Saturday to declare my intentions but the time is upon us, it seems! How random yet how naturally ordered these things are! So I shall wait no longer, my darling Beth. Will you be the one for me? Will you join with me to share our work together, share our lives together?”

  Beth stared at him, outrage and uneasiness crossing her features.

  “No.”

  “No?” Wilcox laughed, uneasiness creeping into his tone. “How can you say such things? What do you mean? I will give you everything, what more can you ask for? I have left myself open to you! You must not refuse me!”

  “No, I will not join with you. No, I will not share your life. And no, I will most definitely not share your work.”

  “Beth, darling, once you see, you will understand.” He grasped her lab coat, blood smearing outwards from the edges of his tightening grip. He dragged her to the body, still twitching, fingers clasping at nothing.

  “See the way the blood moves, the way the heart expands and contracts. This cannot be studied in those who are simply expired. The subject must be functional, to display the full workings of this complex machine.”

  Beth pulled her hand away, shaking with fury.

  “She is not a machine, Wilcox! She is a woman! A human! How can you do this? How can you talk as if she is nothing?” She turned to face him, eyes laced with ferocity.

  “You will leave this room now, before I call the faculties to have you removed. I will now attempt to save this woman’s life, if there is still time enough. You will not harm another, not while I am here to stop you.”

  Wilcox pressed the button to lock the door, enjoying the rush of air as it sucked shut. His eyes glinted brightly, a cheerless smile crossing his features.

  “My dear Beth, the faculties were abandoned at the beginning of this month. There is no faculty, no authority from which to stop me, so you see, it is pointless. Perhaps you did not know, tucked away, living in your laboratory all this time, the councils, all systems of government have been dismantled. Most of the army has defected, there is chaos in the towns, mercenaries have raided most of the supplies and there are few left, save for our facility. And perhaps, we too have little time left. So I offer again, this union will protect you from the mercenaries. I will protect you. Think, Beth. We will have such a life together, you and I.”

  Beth stood tall, looking directly into Wilcox’s eyes. She smiled, hair falling gracefully over her shoulder.

  “Wilcox. I would rather be torn apart by mercenaries than spend one moment more with you. I do not care for you, I do not want you, but most importantly, I do not admire you. I despise your ‘work’, I despise your methods and I think you are sick. Disgusting, in fact. I can not stand the sight of you!”

  Wilcox’s smile withered piece by piece, his teeth frozen in place in a snarl, his eyes narrowing, snake-like, as he gripped his scalpel tighter.

  “That is unfortunate. Yes, very unfortunate,” he muttered to himself, edging forward. Before she could anticipate his next move, he drove the scalpel deep into Beth’s heart, hacking downwards until he reached the waistband of her trousers. She stumbled, hitting her back on the cold metal table, clutching her chest to stop the flow of blood.

  He caught her in his arms, tilting her face towards him. Her eyes widened in panic, a question buried in their depths.

  “Shh. Do not speak.” He brought his lips down against hers and gently pulled away.

  She stared up at him, shaking, the blood draining from her already pale skin. A smile began at the corners of her mouth as she took a deep, rasping breath and spat into his face.

  Wilcox swiped at his cheek, outraged at the insult. When he looked back at her, he was faced with hollow eyes staring through him.

  “Beth…” He leaned down to kiss her again but she was already gone.

  Wilcox carried her body to the metal table, shoving the previous occupant to the floor. The body protested weakly, hand clutching to his trousers as he delivered a swift kick to her head.

  He spread Beth out on the table, carefully removing her lab coat, trousers and undergarments.

  She lay naked before him for the first time, pale skin unblemished save for the jagged gash snaking from her heart to her hipbone. If only he had not been so careless. If he had only cut her somewhere unobtrusive, less glaring. But it was of no consequence now.

  He leaned down, kissing the gentle swell of her breasts, caressing her stomach, her thighs, everywhere he had planned to touch, to explore. He lay his head on her chest, breathing in the scent of her, cataloging, memorizing.

  “My Beth. Why did you not accept my offer? We could have achieved so much, you and I.”

  He traced her jawline, finger closing over her mouth as if to subdue any response that may have come from her lips. He rearranged her hair around her face, making it just so. He rummaged through her bag, finding a compact with a mirror and her lipstick. He applied the lipstick, meticulously dabbing it over her lips, careful not to smear or mar his achievement with any bloody drips from his coat.

  He rinsed a cloth, listening to the water pattering in the metal sink, smattering his coat and face with backsplashes. He tu
rned to Beth, damp cheeks cooling in the sterile air. He turned to Beth, his Beth, scowling at the offensive streaks crossing her pale flesh. He took the cloth, reverently, and dabbed, soaked and wiped until she was clean once more.

  He stood back to admire her form, her grace, the delicate features. All should aspire to be like this. She would be the template, the touchstone. He had so much to do, his fingers ached with the excitement of it, the anticipation of greatness to come. He took one last look at her form, perfect, whole, complete. It was time.

  “You must not worry, my darling.” He stroked her hair, caressing her neck. “My work will live on. You will become part of my work, my greatest work, perhaps. My darling Beth, I will make you live again.”

  He straightened, touching her lips and trailing a hand down her chin. He readjusted his scalpel in his grip and began to cut.

  – 48 –

  The next morning, after rations, 201 entered the Vassal evaluation chamber, filled with various Evaluation Officers holding identical clipboards.

  “Present, 201.”

  201 walked in what she hoped was a graceful manner, careful not to slouch, to stand before the Evaluation Rating Panel.

  The first Officer gestured to the scanning booth, a large rounded structure with an arched opening, surrounded in the blue lights of Omega. 201 hesitated briefly, then stepped inside, the suction doors closing behind her. She remained motionless, just as Harold had coached her to do during her time in Epsilon. The scanner’s blue lights passed over her body, crossing and distorting at every line, every curve.

  “201. Remain still for the facial analysis.”

  The disembodied Officer’s voice crackled from outside the chamber. She kept her head steady as the white lights danced over her face, scanning and mapping, calculating angles and configurations. The lights in the evaluation chamber flickered through the resource drain, humming as power restored throughout the complex.

  The doors sucked open, allowing 201 to step outside into the cool air. She contained a shiver and stood, facing the panel. The Officers surrounded her, prodding and poking, lifting her arms, turning her to the right and left. They tugged at her hair, checked her teeth, shone lights in her eyes and even checked her fingernails and toenails, flicking and bending each one. Satisfied, the group of Officers stepped back as the first Officer spoke again.

  “You will now be assessed on seduction techniques for the final part of the testing procedure.” 201 stiffened, attempting to hide her discomfort. He gestured to a small room at the rear of the evaluation chamber.

  She knocked tentatively, hoping to hear no response, perhaps a last minute rescheduling, anything but the answer that reverberated from within.

  “Come.”

  201 edged inside, body rigid, forgetting her seduction technique training for the briefest of moments.

  The Officer sat at a desk, clipboard in hand. His insignia read Officer Piet, 27Y. His face was surprisingly agreeable for an Officer, clean shaven, a shock of brown hair, pleasing brown eyes and a generous mouth. Nonetheless, his demeanour was slightly arrogant, a flinty edge to his smile despite his relatively young age. He looked at her appraisingly, clearly pleased with her appearance.

  It’s okay. You can do this. Just get it over with. It’s either this or the Epsilon Games Ring.

  “Um… hi.”

  “Yes, 201, right? Come over here please.”

  201 scrolled through her training, desperately searching for the right technique. She settled on smiling and striding forward to sit on the edge of the desk next to Officer Piet’s arm. Officer Piet looked up, amused. He reached a hand out to stroke her arm, tugging at her sleeve impatiently.

  201 contained her eye roll and decided immediately that she would not pass the evaluation by putting on a show. She was far too uncoordinated and could not bring herself to project the necessary bravado to engage in such a maneuver. She needed something to cling to, an image, something to make this less unpleasant, less strikingly awkward.

  As she looked at her outstretched arm, Officer Piet continuously rubbing his finger along her sleeve, it came to her. The familiar sight of Titan’s face appeared in her mind, his kind eyes squinting at her the way they always did when he smiled.

  Before she could think of much else, she launched herself at Officer Piet, straddling his lap, running her fingers through his hair, imagining blonde, not brown strands sifting through her hands. Officer Piet made a pleased noise as she kissed him, removing his buttons one by one, dragging her lips over his ear and licking along the rim. Officer Piet sucked in a breath, lifting her to the edge of the desk and tangling himself while removing her jumpsuit and trying to undo his shirt at the same time. The image was amusing to 201 and she kept that thought, the thought that Piet, though not of her choosing, was at least as inexperienced and clumsy as herself. This thought, and the image of Titan’s face sustained her through the evaluation as she moaned and gasped in what she hoped was an appropriate manner.

  Afterwards, Officer Piet seemed satisfied, grinning at her as he attempted to put his uniform back in the correct order.

  “That will be all, 201. Well done.”

  201 left the room, striding confidently past the row of Evaluation Officers, nodding slightly.

  She did not let herself cry until she was safely ensconced in her shower, bathing thoroughly, in regulation order.

  – 49 –

  Pinnacle Officer Wilcox awoke to find a hand clasped around his shoulder. The figure beside him was sleeping, her dark hair obscuring most of her face, her eyes closed, though he knew they would be blue, just like all the others he had chosen. He started, shaking off the hand and pushing the figure to the edge of the bed.

  “What are you doing in here?” he demanded.

  She awoke, pulling the coverings up to conceal her nakedness.

  “You asked me to stay. Said I reminded you of someone. You called me Beth. No one ever calls me that, they only call me 267.” She scratched behind her ear, sitting up straighter.

  “I never…” Pinnacle Officer Wilcox composed himself. “I always sleep alone. Everyone is well aware of this. You should not be here.”

  “You begged me to stay. Said I reminded you of ‘her’. Who was she? Why was she so important to you?”

  “There is no ‘her’. I do not deem any one of you ‘important’, you are all the same to me.”

  “Oh.” 267 looked at him sympathetically. The kindness in her eyes was so intense he could not bear it.

  “Officer!” He shouted.

  “Yes, Pinnacle Officer Wilcox.” An Officer appeared at the door, pose rigid.

  “Get out,” he said, refusing to look at 267.

  “What?”

  “I said, get out! I do not wish to see you again.”

  “But…”

  “Out!” he screamed, startling the Officer and 267 alike. 267 ran from the bed, grabbing her clothes as she went.

  “Officer, a word.”

  “Yes, Pinnacle Officer Wilcox.”

  “267 is now demoted to Zeta Circuit. Effective immediately. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Pinnacle Officer Wilcox.”

  “Go.”

  – 50 –

  201 ran her nightly drills, gripping the door frame between her bedchamber and the bathroom, hoisting herself into the air and back down again, repeating the motion until her mind was clear and still. She ran, crouching to begin, circling the perimeter of her bedchamber until she dropped with exhaustion. She stretched, making sure to include every muscle group, finishing with sit-ups, dropping back to the floor when her body began to fatigue. She shuffled to the bathroom, bathing in regulation order, throwing on a robe and laying flat atop the bedcovers.

  201 pinpointed her mind to the hallway surrounding the elevator to Wilcox’s quarters. She had taken to practising this exercise before falling asleep as a way to strengthen her mind’s abilities, much like her nightly drills and agility training. She couldn’t always successfully accomp
lish the task at will, but some nights were more fruitful, such as tonight. She found that she could track the hallways by projecting her thoughts, mapping out each corner, each turn, each feature. Some nights she could almost imagine she was physically present, seeing, absorbing, experiencing. She pinpointed the guards, two at the entrance to the elevator, two at the exit. She could feel Wilcox now, his form glowing green in her consciousness. The awareness of his vibration made her uncomfortable, his presence growing stronger, smothering her thoughts and scattering her energies. She pulled away from his form, scanning the halls, once again surprised by the small number of Officers surrounding Wilcox, much as she was astonished at the bare minimum of Officers throughout the complex at FERTS. At line check, in the ration room, the games, the Officers appeared far greater in number, simply by placement and proximity. It made 201 wonder how few or how many were out there, outside FERTS. She scanned the halls once more, carefully noting the routine of the Officers, of Wilcox. She catalogued the now familiar features, the distances and the time between doorways, between stairwells, between floors. Something was coming, she felt it approaching on the horizon. And she felt the urgency, the need to be ready for it, in whatever form it might appear.

  – 51 –

  The days began to blur, beginning with line check, rations, and dreary presentations about the prestige afforded to all those chosen to become a Vassal. She dutifully absorbed the information, conceding to her fellow Omega Internees that the height of accomplishment was indeed achieved by becoming a birther. During the nights, yet more hours were spent studying the seduction manual and the myriad of Vassal grooming regulations.

  That night, her studying completed, bathing routine dutifully observed, 201 sat on the cold floor in her chamber, regulation nail file in hand. She dragged the tip along the stone, skin breaking into gooseflesh at the sound. She did not know how long she had persevered, methodically dragging the file along one edge, then the other to sharpen each side evenly.

  Exhausted, she slumped back against the wall, pushing the hair out of her eyes. She studied the tip, filed to a deadly point. She grabbed her latest assessment report and dragged the edge of the file along the page, spearing and tearing. It would have to do. She looked at the makeshift weapon in her hands, thought about how easy it would be to just cut along her wrist, let the blood drain out all over the floor. The Officers couldn’t touch her then. She would never have to please a Vendee or an Officer ever again. However something had stilled her hand, poised over her wrist. Her mind clouded, visions swimming to the surface. Feet running, the rhythmic thud of boots on ground. The faces of Rafaella, of Caltha and little Adira, living far from FERTS, free from Officers and Vendees. Titan’s face surfaced in her mind once more, his familiar eyes fixed on hers.