The Killing Jar

by RS McCoy

  “Oh man, that’s fantastic.” Osip was the first to gush.

  “Totally blows your mind grapes,” Knox said as he clapped Theo hard on the back, too hard.

  The three fell into chairs and proceeded to clean the platters bit by bit. “Theo here’s a Scholar from Lancaster,” Osip told Knox, never managing a word without food in his cheek.

  As if the indigo body suit didn’t give it away.

  Light gleamed off Knox’s bald head. “Scholar? Nick sure crapped his slacks.”

  Osip laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth with a fist to avoid spewing food across the table. Theo, too, cracked a smile, though it felt wrong. It felt like a betrayal to the life he took.

  “How long have you been here?” Theo asked, eager to shift the conversation to someone else.

  Knox was a beast, at least eight or ten inches taller than him and built like a snowman. His skin was a mocha color from the Pacific. His eyes were dark, yet bright, smiling. He was a good ten years older than Theo or Osip.

  “Too old to start counting the milk.”

  Theo had no idea what Knox was saying. He turned to Osip. “How many of us are there?”

  Osip squinted with thought before he said, “You make six. Three girls and three guys. Mable’s the newest one, before you of course.”

  “Four makes the cake.” Knox added.

  “What is this place?” A sanctuary for murderers, obviously.

  “Silas runs the new nuts.” Knox smiled.

  “Silas?” Osip stared. “You mean Dr. Arrenstein? The director of the facility? You call him Silas? And you’re still alive?”

  Knox laughed. His full cheeks jiggled and his belly shook. “New nuts hit the grill tomorrow?”

  “Hell yeah. We’ve been sitting around here for weeks. I need something to do or I’m gonna lose it!” Osip pounded his fist on the table to prove his point.

  Knox smiled a knowing smile and nodded, his eyes flashing with something Theo didn’t quite recognize. Maybe sadness, maybe something else. At last he said, “Nut grill likes to burn ya.”

  SILAS

  CPI-AO-301, NEW YORK

  AUGUST 9, 2232

  Silas heard the screams echoing down the hall. For nearly two hours, her agonizing cries permeated his office door. Not even the scotch could drown them out.

  Each wail was a slice in his marrow.

  He should have let her keep them. God, he should have made her remove them all. What had he done? She was enduring all the pain of tattoo removal without the security anonymity could provide her.

  If she was identified, he couldn’t claim her. She would be on her own. She would go to prison. She would suffocate to death on one of the island nations so overrun with haze and disease they had become unlivable for all but the worst.

  That’s where she would end up, because he was soft. Because he let her keep one tattoo.

  He stared out the single window of his office and clutched his glass of melting ice laced with the remnants of scotch.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  It had to be Nick. “Come in.”

  Nick pushed into his office, the open door letting in more of the screams for a few seconds before he closed it again. “The last one just arrived. Osip is showing him around. We actually did it. Six new recruits, just like you wanted.”

  “Tell me about the last one.” Silas hadn’t had a chance to look over the file yet.

  “He’s great, the best we’ve had in a long time. Theodore, goes by Theo. Scholar, one of the Lancaster Kaufmans actually.”

  “As in Howard Kaufman?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Silas positioned a piece of ice between his teeth and bit it through. “What’s his backstory?” No one got into CPI without some catastrophe.

  “We got incredibly lucky.” Nick flopped onto the couch and spread his arms across the back, basking in his victory. “I guess he had some sort of episode after Selection, stole a car and ran over a kid. Killed him actually.”

  Silas stared for several moments as he collected his anger. “We don’t take child killers. I know we accept young people with a certain degree of tarnish in their pasts, but not like that. We don’t take murderers. Send him back.”

  “He can’t just go back. I pulled a lot of strings to get him here.” Nick’s tone grew defensive. He leaned forward and intertwined his fingers, his head bowed low, thinking of what to say. “From what the Collectors said, it was an accident. The haze was too thick for him to see the kid. He’s pretty messed up about it actually.”

  “I don’t care if he hates himself for the rest of his life. Good. He should. He doesn’t belong here. Get rid of him.” Silas turned back to the window. He was done with this conversation.

  “Look, you got to bring in Wilkinson without my support. I understand you think she can be groomed to be an agent, but I disagree. In this case, I think Theo will be a great asset.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Either we keep Kaufman or I make a report to Masry about Wilkinson. She needs to know the girl’s unstable. It’s my job to report it.”

  Silas fumed. His chest rose and fell with each heated, hate-filled breath. “Are you blackmailing me?”

  Nick stood with all the grace and calmness of a nun in a monastery. “Not at all. I would never. But I hope we have an understanding. You can pull in recruits on a hunch, and so can I.”

  He had to give to the guy. At least he finally grew a backbone, although the timing couldn’t be worse. Silas sipped his scotch-flavored ice water before answering, “Fine, he can stay. But if there’s any evidence of violent behaviors, he goes. I won’t allow the others to be put at risk.”

  Nick smiled. “It’s settled then. I’ll put together the files for indoc tomorrow. Oh and Masry is coming. In about a month. One of her usual visits, I guess.” He shrugged and left.

  Alone in his office, Silas poured another scotch and opened up the file on Kaufman. The guy did look promising. He could see why Nick was so quick to pick him up.

  But still, he couldn’t shake the lingering feeling that he didn’t belong at CPI. It clung to him like a constricting snake. Silas knew Theo would be trouble.

  AIDA

  LRF-CORRIDOR

  AUGUST 9, 2232

  Aida’s kitten heels clacked along the floor of the corridor, barely discernable above the shuffling and conversing of the Scholars around her.

  Why had she volunteered for this?

  Her fingers pulled at the lapels of her crisp work shirt, the one she favored over the indigo jumpsuit they all wore. It gave her a little something, helped her stand out in the droves.

  Today she wanted to be invisible. She should have left it in her office.

  It’s for Dr. Parr, she reminded herself. Aida wouldn’t let his memory be tainted with an oversight. She needed to handle it personally.

  The Robotics wing was on the far end from Planetary Systems despite how the two usually worked together often. Everything was virtual these days. There was no need for physical proximity.

  She felt like a criminal, skulking down the hallway while trying to appear normal, as if nothing were wrong.

  But she knew. Deep in her bones, she knew something had been very wrong.

  She held her hand to the scanner and hoped someone gave her access to Robotics. A minute later, a square-jawed man stood before the open doors. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Dr. Fobbs, please.”

  “Over there.” The man pointed to the left and disappeared into his own office. When she saw the placard that read ‘Fobbs RB101’ she rapped her knuckles on the door.

  Fobbs’s lab was a heaping pile of garbage. Pieces and parts littered every surface. Only the area in front of the chair was clean, some sort of prototype spinning above his tablet projector.

  “Dr. Fobbs?”

  The man turned and stared as if he’d never seen another person in his lab. His pleasant mouth fell open and his light blue eyes
looked her up and down as if deciding she was real. “Can I help you?”

  “You sent the probe to Perkins-196?”

  “Yes, we sent Starla 5. She was launched two days ago and should start to relay data tomorrow afternoon. I sent the specs to Planetary as usual.” Fobbs fully rotated his chair and wrinkled his brow as he waited for an explanation.

  “Right, of course. It was received, but there was some sort of error. The coordinates were compromised. I sent you the correct coordinates a few minutes ago.”

  Fobbs spun back to his tablet and swiped his holographic prototype away to pull up her ecomm. “That’s in a completely different region,” he said as he read the file.

  “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to make sure you received the coordinates and sent the probe to the appropriate exoplanet.” Aida pushed her shoulders back and did her best to act as if this was all so routine.

  “Uh, yes, we can send a probe but Starla 5 is so far now, we’ll have to send another. Let’s see, we have Astra 3. She can get there in two days if you can wait.”

  “Two days will be fine. Thank you.” Aida bolted from the room before he could ask her anything else.

  She made her way back to her office and sank into her chair, safe at last.

  “How’d it go?” Calvin asked with a quiet knock.

  “Fine. They’re sending a new probe.”

  “Good. Niemeyer wants to meet even though Filmore isn’t coming. He’s in the conference room waiting.”

  Aida cursed silently. “Don’t tell him about—”

  “Agreed.” Calvin smiled and held out his hand.

  She’d never met anyone who liked to touch another person as much as Calvin. His hand was always there to help her from her chair or squeeze her shoulder in support of an idea. Aida couldn’t decide if it was nice or odd, or both.

  As Calvin had said, Dr. Ethan Niemeyer waited for them in his usual seat at the large table in the conference room. He wore the same indigo suit as every Scholar in LRF and displayed the attractive, balanced features that were selected for him.

  He looked like every other person in the LRF.

  Calvin sat in his chair and Aida in hers. No one would sit at the head. No one wanted to take Dr. Parr’s position.

  “Thank you for coming. I realize the meeting with the director was cancelled but I think it’s important to maintain our routines.” Niemeyer pulled out his tablet and set it to project an apricot-orange planet with a bright blue spot. “Dr. Parr offered no official evaluation for the planets for this quarter, so it falls to us make the decision.”

  Aida stared at him. How could they go on with this? It was Dr. Parr’s decision. They couldn’t simply do it in his stead.

  “Niemeyer-99 is located in the Carina Dwarf group, approximately 1.4 times the size of Earth with comparable gravity and internal structure—”

  “It’s too close to the red dwarf.” Calvin stated it plainly.

  Niemeyer came to the defense of his planet, his research, his hard work. “The star has at least 40,000 years left. That’s more than enough time to restart and find a more appropriate world.”

  “Dr. Parr was very clear on this point. A permanent residence.” Calvin maneuvered the controls of his tablet to pull up a stunning magenta planet with wisps of milky white across the surface.

  Niemeyer spat the name back at Calvin. “Dr. Parr isn’t here to put his restrictions on our research. Nine-nine is a perfectly adequate home for the interim.”

  Calvin slid his tablet to the center of the table where the three could all see it. “This is Perkins-196, the planet Dr. Parr sent to Robotics for evaluation.”

  “I wasn’t notified,” Niemeyer said as explanation, a bow of defeat.

  “They’ve sent a probe to collect the prelims. This planet is our focus until such a time as we determine the need to move on.”

  “I don’t remember your bid to lead this department,” Niemeyer huffed as he collected his tablet and turned off the display.

  Calvin looked at Aida, looked at her so long and so hard she knew she must have something on her face. He turned back to Niemeyer and said, “I’m not qualified to lead the department, but Dr. Perkins is. I nominate her as Lead.”

  Aida swallowed hard.

  “I think that’s a decision for the director.”

  “Yes, it is. But until such a time as he makes that decision, Dr. Perkins should make the final decisions. She found the planet. And she worked with Dr. Parr for five years. She’s the best suited.”

  Niemeyer couldn’t argue. He had no standing. He was second in line and he knew it. “Only until the director makes a final decision.” He collected his tablet and returned to his office.

  “Congratulations,” Calvin said with a smile.

  She knew he meant it as a favor to her, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. “I don’t want to be Lead. I’m not qualified.”

  “The fact that you think that is precisely why you are.” He leaned closer to her, his elbow resting on his knee. “You’ve earned this. Go home and celebrate. Tell your husband. Take the night to think about it.”

  When he walked around the table to leave the room, a strong hand offered a supportive squeeze to her shoulder. Then he was gone.

  And, at least for now, Aida was the Lead Planetary Systems Researcher.

  DASIA

  CPI-RQ2-04, NEW YORK

  AUGUST 10, 2232

  A knock sounded at the door, right on time. She pulled it open to see Jane with a smile on her face. While Dasia wore the plain white cotton pants and tank top provided by the facility after cleaning, Jane looked ravishing, a vid star in a fitted blue sundress.

  “Ready?”

  Dasia gulped. “I guess.” She didn’t really know what she was supposed to be ready for. A meeting, but she didn’t know anything else.

  “Come on! It’s finally starting,” Jane said as she grabbed Dasia’s wrist and pulled her into the hall. She barely had time to close the door before they were off.

  Osip was ahead of them a ways down the hall and turned into a wing she hadn’t seen yet. Jane fussed happily as they followed him. “You have no idea what it was like before. So boring. You don’t even know. It was just me and Osip for weeks. Ugh. It’s so much better now. Did you see that new guy? He has to be a Scholar. May the best girl win him,” she said with a laugh.

  Dasia smiled in return. She felt better than she had in weeks. Completely sober for the first time in years. The cleaning had helped eliminate her exhaustion. Aside from the persistent ache in her chest, she was in great shape.

  And she had a friend. Jane talked too fast about things Dasia mostly didn’t understand, but at least she was there.

  “What’s in that room?” Dasia asked as they passed an old wooden door that looked like something out of her farmhouse. It had no place in the sterile white hallway of CPI.

  “I don’t know. We weren’t allowed in this section until this morning. I’ve never seen it before. Looks weird.”

  The two walked until they reached the wide room with high vaulted ceilings and two rows of stadium-style seating, each with only four seats. Jane pulled her into the two in the middle of the front row, eager for whatever this meeting was about.

  Dasia had never been to a meeting of any kind. She had no idea what could be so great.

  Osip sat in the far seat on the back row next to the new guy, the only other person present with the same white garments. The two boys sat quietly, waiting, their eyes on the others that streamed in one by one.

  The next was super tall, at least six feet. He had long, shoulder-length brown hair and sallow cheeks. It was a look she knew well. Many in Monarch had struggled to find enough to eat.

  “Who is that?” Dasia whispered.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Jane mouthed back, sensing he was already too close as he took his seat. The skinny one sat beside Dasia and offered her a perfunctory smile.

  Jane didn’t say a word to him.

  Dr. Past
romas walked in with a plastic crate of tablets, wearing one of his usual pressed suits. He heaved the box onto the table and looked about the room.

  “Hey guys. Missing one?” he said when he saw the empty seat next to Jane.

  “Any guesses?” Osip said with a laugh.

  “All right, just give us a few minutes. There’s a lot of important information to go over this morning.” Dr. Pastromas pulled his personal tablet from the crate and made several rapid finger motions. Probably writing an ecomm, Dasia decided.

  Moments later, a middle-age man appeared with a good grip the last one, the girl with black hair. The piercings from her face were gone and her neck was free of tattoos, though the sour expression was still there.

  “Let go of me.” She twisted her arm out of his grip.

  “Get your seat,” was all the man said.

  The girl hurried away from him and sank into the seat with a thud.

  “Thank you, Dr. Arrenstein,” Dr. Pastromas muttered as he pulled up the presentation from his tablet.

  Ah, now she knew who he was. Jane had mentioned the name before.

  Rather than leave, Dr. Arrenstein found a spot to lean against the wall. Based on Dr. Pastromas’s annoyed glare, that wasn’t the norm.

  “Now that we’re all here, we can go ahead and get started. Most of you know me already. I’m Dr. Nick Pastromas, Assistant Director of CPI.”

  A few exuberant cheers sounded until he put up a hand to quiet them.

  “This program is pretty intense and we’ll be spending a lot of time together. I prefer that you call me Nick. Dr. Arrenstein on the other hand prefers his official title.” Dr. Pastromas—Nick—motioned to his boss leaning against the wall.

  “Let’s go ahead and do intros. Some of you have been here several weeks, some of you are relatively new. You’ll all be working together for the next months or even years, so you might as well get to know each other. Georgie, will you get us started?” He motioned to the boy with long brown hair that sat beside her.

  The boy, maybe seventeen, stood up, his shirt and pants loose on his wiry frame. His nose was sharp and his chin jutted out from sunken cheeks. “Sure, Nick. I’m Georgie Blackwell. I’m from San Diego, Southwest Sector. I, uh—” He seemed to choke on the words.