╗
SIXTEEN ╚
THE
SUBVERSION COMPLEX
Late
afternoon thunder rattled the tall window and the restless wind cast
stray raindrops against the glass. Caught in sharp relief in the
waning light that shafted through the window, the Party Secretary's
face betrayed that his mood boded little better than the weather. As
Anna entered his office she felt like she was once again in boarding
school, being sent to the headmaster's office for a well-deserved
chiding. Except that this was much, much worse.
She
crossed the seemingly insurmountable space between the door and his
desk, stopping awkwardly only a foot or two from the chair she had
spent so many hours in just yesterday. She could feel him breathing
from behind the desk, could watch his nostrils flaring and his
eyebrows kneading. He seemed to take forever to speak. Finally he
pushed himself backwards in his chair and regarded her over touching
fingertips. A strange anger smoldered in his eyes.
“What
are you doing, Miss McLean?”
Anna
felt her own anger and fear rising but she managed to hold his gaze
without looking away. “It may be cliché to say so, but I could ask
you the same question. Assuming of course that we are talking about
the same thing.”
The
Secretary appeared taken aback at her boldness. “Careful, Anna . .
. you do not have a default pass to my approval and affection. Just
why did you think it would be a good idea to threaten the integrity
of Dr. Jarrod's experiment?”
Anna's
anger mounted a little higher but she struggled to control it. “Were
you aware that there is a little girl inside the reactive computer?
And could you tell me why, exactly?”
Adam
didn't even blink. “That wasn't the question I asked. I asked you
why you thought it might be a good idea to open the box in the first
place?”
He
already knew, Anna concluded. “I
am a computer scientist, and I am working on a computer that
supposedly mimics the human brain. I was curious as to what exactly
was inside the box that made it run, after the computer talked
to me. And I find a little girl
inside. Now I've answered your question, so please would you answer
mine as to why and how she got there?”
The
Secretary cocked his head at her. “Are you objecting
to this state of affairs, Miss McLean?”
Anna's
face burned but she choked down her growing rage. Of course she
objected, but she wasn't about to reveal her whole hand to him at
this point. She tried for the least outraged tone she could muster.
“I find it irregular at best. Where did this girl come from, and
what right do we have to lock her inside a box and plug her into a
computer?”
“What
right do we have?” Adam asked, slowly rising to his feet.
His height made her wilt. “You speak as if the creature in that
machine was a real person, with rights. I can assure you,
Anna, that she is not. That 'girl' is so far below what is real as to
make it ridiculous.”
Anna's
conversation with the little girl surged back into her memory and it
was all she could do to keep from losing her temper. “She looked
pretty damn real to me,” she said quietly.
“They
all do, but they're not. You have just seen your first SubVersion.”
Despite
her anger Anna stopped short. “What is a SubVersion?”
“The
inevitable next question,” the Secretary said testily, tapping his
cane on the floor. “I had not planned on doing this so soon, but it
would seem that you stumbled into this on your own and so I have very
little choice. You may or may not like what you see but you do seem
determined to charge headlong into the thick of things.”
“Very
little choice in what?” Anna asked, her anger rapidly changing into
dread.
“You
are going on a little tour.”
Anna
blinked. She knew well enough now to fear Adam's little tours.
“Where?”
“Downstairs.
All the way downstairs.” He tapped a button on his desk.
“Get me Captain Ander James in Level Three.”
A
man's voice crackled back from the speaker in the desk. “This is
Captain James. “
“Captain,”
Adam said, “I have a woman here that needs an escort down to Level
3.”
There
was a long pause and Anna heard only breathing on the other end. Then
the voice returned. “Are you sure, sir?”
“Yes,
I am sure.”
“And
who is this that I am taking down?” the voice continued
reluctantly.
“Miss
Annalise McLean, our newest member.”
“Ah,”
Captain James replied noncommittally. “Will she be visiting my side
or Neville's?”
“She
will be on Neville's side of things.”
“I'll
be up in five minutes. Have her meet me at Elevator 2. Captain James
out.”
The
Secretary tapped the button harder than necessary, cutting off the
call. “Satisfied?” he inquired darkly.
Anna's
jaw worked back and forth uncertainly. “Should I be?”
“You're
the one who can't leave well enough alone.” The Secretary sat back
down but still managed to feel imposing. “You tell me.”
Fear
began to lick at the edges of Anna's consciousness. “What exactly
is down there? What am I supposed to see? And what's a SubVersion?”
“Neville
will explain all of that to you when you get down there. I try to
avoid the man if at all possible, as does just about everyone else,
but you should find out what you want to know.” Adam waved her to
the door. “And once you are done seeing all that there is to see
down there, then you can rethink bringing all this huff and
indignation into my office like you actually know what is going on.
You don't know shit. Go learn something. And be aware that you are
being read into the topmost of our top-secret projects. Everything
that you see will be classified.”
With
growing dread Anna turned and left the office and walked the long
walk to Elevator 2. Her head spun and her insides had tightened into
a hard ball. She suddenly had no stomach for this task.
Right
on cue, the doors of Elevator 2 hushed open and a man stepped out. He
stood only an inch or two taller than Anna, with hair cropped short
and a brawny frame clad not in the uniform of the security personnel
upstairs but in regular military fatigues. He attempted a smile and
held out his hand. “Captain Ander James, at your service. And you
are Miss McLean?”
Anna
shook his hand. “Yes, I am. You can just call me Anna. You are my
escort?”
“Indeed,
at least for a very short while,” the man replied. “I will have
to hand you off to someone else once we are downstairs.” His manner
was one of restraint, of cordial charm that hid below a veneer of
military professionalism. “And please just call me James. My
friends all do. Or at least, most of my friends. We can leave the
'Captain' off for now.” He motioned to the elevator with his hand.
“After you.” They both stepped into the elevator and the doors
slid shut. James pulled a key out of his pocket, inserted it into a
special lock on the elevator wall, then pressed buttons “Basement
1” and “Basement 2” simultaneously. With a jolt the elevator
began to move.
James
turned back to Anna. “So . . . what sort of errand would take you
down to Level 3 for the first time? I can't imagine what sort of
business anyone from your department would have down here.”
Anna
swallowed hard. “It has something to do with a project I am working
on,” she said cryptically.
James
stared straight ahead with a grim face. “And have you ever met this
Neville Sanders?”
“No,
why?”
“You
may want to be careful, is all.”
Anna
felt her skin prickle. “What's wrong with him? Anything?”
James
scratched the back of his head with one hand; his fingernails made
raspy scraping sounds against his stubble. He licked his lips and
tried to smile again, but failed. “It may not be my place to say
so, but Neville is . . . “ he trailed off as he thought. Anna
waited anxiously for the answer, but it was not to be. The elevator
doors opened again and James shook himself. “Here we are.”
The
doors opened and they emerged into a long hallway, narrow and
gloomily lit by caged blue lamps at infrequent intervals. The stale
air bit with a strange subterranean chill. Captain James went first,
followed by an apprehensive Anna. The stifled quiet and dim light
unnerved her, and despite being able to see at least well enough to
walk she still found herself feeling her way along.
They
came to a door at the other end of the hall, which Captain James
unlocked with a swipe of his badge and again he proffered a hand to
Anna. She stepped through without enthusiasm and he followed. The new
chamber proved to be a bit more welcome. The walls and ceiling merged
together overhead into one big barrel-like shape, and Anna realized
that they were standing in what looked to be a section of old subway
tunnel. When she asked James about it he confirmed her suspicions.
“Yes,
these were subway tunnels, built before they dug some of the newer
ones under the Potomac River. I believe this used to be an
underground power substation for the trains.” He beckoned her down
another hall leading to a smaller room with two doors facing each
other from opposite sides. Anna squinted through the vague lighting
and saw that the door on the left read “Subterranean Prison Command
Central,” and the one on the right read “SubVersion Complex.”
Captain
James motioned to both doors. “Prison Command Central is my side of
things, and I also handle general security matters down here. But you
claim that you came down to see Neville.”
Anna
nodded with more confidence than she felt. “As long as he is the
administrator of the SubVersion Complex, then yes.”
Captain
James stood and regarded her for a long moment before speaking again.
Anna saw a strange look in his eyes and it filled her with an
inexplicable fear. He touched her arm. “Perhaps you would like to
rethink your choice?”
The
touch was meant as a gesture of concern but Anna reflexively jumped
away from it. “Of course not,” she replied bluntly. “I am not
simply going to walk away.” She frowned at him. “Why?”
Captain
James dropped his hand. “I don't doubt that whatever business you
have down here is important, Miss McLean, seeing as not many people
even know we exist. How you know is beyond me. However, I have
to warn you about Neville. He is . . . ah . . . “
Anna
stared at him, afraid of what the answer might be and irritated at
all the half-answers. “He is . . . what?”
“Unstable,”
James replied at length, “to put it politely. I don't trust him.
Neither should you.”
Anna
cocked her head at him with an attempt at a smile. “I work with a
slightly unstable scientist upstairs, that shouldn't be a problem. Is
Neville dangerous? Are you suggesting I need an armed escort?”
James
shook his head. “It's not what I'm afraid he'd do to you, Miss
McLean. It's what I'm afraid he'll show you. He has a certain
. . . relish for his work.
“Ah,”
Anna said in an attempt to sound positive, but her soul had begun to
shrink inside her with apprehension. She almost considered turning
around and heading back upstairs but the thought of never finding out
what she wanted to know killed that impulse. Plus, the Secretary
would find out if she never made the tour. She motioned to the
SubVersion Complex door. “I understand if you might be concerned,
but this is something that I must do. So, if you please.”
James
gave her a resigned shrug and she could feel the worry in his
expression. “As you wish.” He stepped closer to the door and
tapped the intercom button next to it. “Margaret? Tell Neville that
he has a visitor, a Miss Annalise McLean.” Anna heard the buzz and
click of an electronic lock opening. Captain James leaned over and
pushed the door open for her.
Anna
stepped through into a lobby area, a room that could have been more
hospitable had it been painted in a more cheerful color. However,
industrial taupe was the decorative choice and it lent an oppressive
air to an already oppressive place. Captain James remained outside;
he looked her long and hard in the eye before wordlessly shutting the
door.
It
took five long minutes for Neville to appear. Margaret, the
middle-aged receptionist at the desk across the room proved to be no
decent company in the meantime, preferring to ignore Anna and sulk
behind her omni-monitor viewing some unknown content. All Anna could
see of her over the screen was her graying hair and a pair of
suspicious beady eyes that glanced over every so often.
Finally
the far door swung open and a tall man entered, sweeping in with an
uneven gait and white coat flowing behind him. He had a surprisingly
youthful, handsome face, a shock of blonde hair that floated around
his head in a golden cloud, and piercing blue eyes that immediately
engaged her from across the room.
He
wore a wide easy smile and he approached her with a hand outstretched
in greeting. “Good to meet you at last, Miss McLean! I've heard so
much about you from our colleagues at HomoGen but it is a pleasure to
see you in the flesh.” The voice that emerged surprised Anna with
its strong British accent, but she realized that with a name like
Neville Sanders she should have known better. She shook his clammy
hand in a bit of a daze.
“It's
good to meet you too, Mr. Sanders, but I have to be honest and say
that I have no recollection of you from HomoGen. No one there ever
spoke of you.”
Neville
released her hand. “Ah, well, they wouldn't have spoken about me to
you. Proper policy and whatnot, they are sticklers about that
sort of thing.” He played with his lab coat with an odd
nervousness. “But of course your business at HomoGen has always
been intimately connected with my work. Shall we proceed?”
Anna
was taken aback. “My business connected with you?”
“Of
course!” he replied cheerfully. “Why else would HomoGen send me
the cream of their crop?”
Thoroughly
confused, Anna shook her head. “What cream of who's crop?”
Neville
looked at her. “Did HomoGen not send you?”
“No,
I don't even work with HomoGen anymore, I am with Central Admin now.”
“Ah.”
Neville shrugged. “Well . . . I had felt for sure that they
had sent you for some purpose or another, considering our especial
relationship. Why HomoGen would send a computer programmer to us
instead of a biotech scientist was beyond me, but I have to say they
didn't tell me programmers came with such fantastic bodies.” He
eyed her up and down. “But no matter! What was your purpose here
then, if not for a tour or other such thing?”
Anna
was too perturbed to register offense at his leering. “You keep
saying HomoGen has a special relationship with this place and with
you, but I must insist that I had never heard of you or this
place until very recently. How are you connected?”
A
look of genuine shock crossed Neville's face. “How are we
connected?” he repeated incredulously. “Why, this is where your
SubVersions are housed!”
“What
do you mean?” Anna asked, her confusion giving way to alarm.
“Your
SubVersions . . . “ He frowned at her. “Surely you know what a
SubVersion is?”
Anna
shook her head. “I'd never heard of a SubVersion before today.”
“There
are Versions, and then there are SubVersions,” he explained. “The
Versions go out into the world, into families and homes and training
centers and such. The SubVersions come here.”
“But
HomoGen doesn't make anything called a SubVersion,” Anna insisted
in a frantic tone.
“Are
you so sure?” Neville asked ominously. “You say that with such
assurance, and yet you had never heard of me or this place until
recently. What else mightn't you know?”
“But
I don't understand, what is a SubVersion?”
Neville
locked his fingers behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “As
I said, there are Versions and then there are SubVersions. Women come
in, they donate their eggs and the men come in and donate the sperm.
HomoGen does the matching and processing and fertilizing and
incubating and voila! You have a perfect little Version, ready
to go to a new home just like a regular child. But for every one
Version HomoGen makes, they get between two and eight other
fertilized eggs that grow as well. Just part of the process. We call
them SubVersions. Those never go to any customer anywhere, instead
they come here.” He gestured around him. “A SubVersion is not
part of a regular HomoGen order, it's merely a by-product of sorts.
HomoGen figured 'Why waste it when we can use it?' So they all get
shipped here.”
Anna
felt sick to her stomach. “And . . what do you do with them here?”
she croaked.
Neville
suddenly chuckled. “You act shocked!” he said mirthfully. “No,
Miss McLean, let me assure you that the SubVersions are a product,
pure and simple. A product we have been able to do fantastic things
with, but a product all the same.”
“If
they are merely a product, then why hide them down here?” Anna
whispered fearfully. “What do you have to hide?”
Neville
turned on his heel and swung open the door he had entered from.
“Because most people are less understanding than us few. We simply
have the stomach to do what must be done.” He gestured with his
head. “In you go?”
Anna
automatically complied and Neville followed. Anna's insides
immediately convulsed as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light and
her nose acclimated to a strange mix of clinical antiseptic and
filth. They were walking down a long hallway with thick glass doors
down each side. As she looked into the blandly lit cells behind the
glass doors Anna realized that there was a person inside each one.
Some wandered about inside their cells, others lay curled up in the
corners; almost all of them exuded a resigned and lifeless air. Most
of the subjects were men but Anna saw a fair number of women as well,
and in one of the cells she was shocked to see several children all
sitting in a group.
But
the last cage on the left brought her up completely short. Inside
crouched a man, or at least what was once a man. Something looked
wrong with his face but Anna could not tell quite what it was. He
crouched next to the side wall, bent over the prone form of what
appeared to be a small boy. As Anna pressed up against the glass to
see him better, the man perked up and turned his head quickly in her
direction. She gasped when she saw blood draining from the man's
teeth and down his jaw and neck. The man visibly panted with an
opened mouth and extended tongue, and when he had stared at Anna with
wide soulless eyes for a long minute he suddenly lunged for her.
Anna
screamed and backed away, just as the man crashed headlong into the
other side of the glass and fell away bruised and whimpering. She
cowered against the opposite side of the hallway for a full minute,
the blood pounding in her temples hard. Neville stood chuckling,
however. “He really frightened you, didn't he?” he remarked,
grimly pleasant. In response to a terrified look from Anna, though,
he decided to explain. “He could smell you, even through the
glass.”
“Smell
me?” Anna asked blankly.
“This
particular SubVersion was checked out to a biotech firm on the other
side of D.C. They specialized in DNA sequence splicing and they
needed a subject for an experiment they were conducting on combining
the DNA of bloodhounds with that of humans. Well, this fellow was the
subject of that experiment.” Neville sighed wistfully. “But it
would seem the project was only partially successful. The subject's
sense of smell and hearing increased a thousand-fold but he began
developing rabies-like symptoms for no apparent reason, so they sent
him back here for observation. He's been an interesting one so far.
Likes to kill for the sake of killing.”
Anna
nodded incredulously at the explanation. Her mind roiled in an agony
of guilty repugnance as she watched the feral dog-man slink back to
his previous position. Versions are people, Anna. Real people.
Mr. Vicker's words echoed in her mind like a faraway bell, plaintive
but insistent. She wanted to shut them out, wanted to squash away the
raw emotion of seeing her life's work slobbering and growling in
front of her in that cage. But it was impossible. Maybe they are
truly human, and then again, maybe they're not. That had been her
response, and it now sounded weak and stupid.
Neville
turned to her with a quizzical look on his face. “To be honest, I
don't remember you ever telling me why you were actually here. I
assumed you merely wanted to tour the proverbial pet shop, but you
never answered that question. Was there something specific you needed
to know?”
It
took several seconds for Anna to remember after her shock that he was
still standing there. She was of course only down there for a tour
mandated by the Secretary, but she suddenly remembered that she still
had the paper with Daniel's numbers on it in her shirt. The only
problem was that she was not supposed to know either number.
Although, Sonya's number was tattooed into her upper arm. And Adam
knew already that she had seen Sonya. Perhaps if she mentioned Sonya
she could get word of the woman.
“I
. . . I was only supposed to be touring the facility and asking you
for explanations of anything I didn't understand, but I did have a
question,” Anna said with the little nonchalance she could scrape
together. “I am currently working with a SubVersion from down here,
a little girl named Sonya. Do you happen to remember her?”
Neville
laughed strangely. “Remember her?! Of course I do! How could I
forget? Most of our SubVersions only have numbers, no names. Makes
things easier that way, and less attachment to the subjects. But her
mother insisted that she have a name.”
“Her
mother?” Anna asked in excitement. Her idea was working.
“I
am intimately familiar with both the daughter and the mother. The
daughter obviously is with you, but the mother is still here. She's
packed away in cold storage, but we can take a little stroll in that
direction if that suits your fancy.”
Anna
nodded without a sound and followed Neville through the next two sets
of doors into a huge high ceilinged rectangular room lit entirely
with the blue caged lamps. The temperature dropped precipitously as
they entered and with a start Anna realized she could see her breath
smoking in front of her. She gazed around and then upward in combined
awe and trepidation. All four walls were intersected with grid lines
and, after a moment's observation, she saw that it resembled a giant
morgue, and each grid square was the front panel of a closed
human-sized drawer. Another man in a lab coat and overcoat worked
nearby and nodded to them as they entered.
Neville
didn't need to look up the number or anything, but made a beeline
across the room to a drawer at waist-height marked SVC5403-1F, and
pressed his thumb to the scanner next to the number. Anna saw with
satisfaction that it was the correct number. The drawer emitted a
faint clunk and Neville grabbed the handle and pulled hard.
The drawer appeared heavy but it slid out of the wall smoothly
enough. Inside was a closed coffin-shaped black container, similar to
Sonya's box in all respects except for its larger size.
“Here
you are,” Neville remarked, unlatching the box and shoving the lid
open. Anna peered over the edge and felt the familiar pang of
horrified sadness as she saw the prostrate body of the young woman
inside. The woman was even more beautiful in the flesh than in her
picture; the resemblance between mother and daughter also resonated
much more strongly now that Anna had observed both.
She
turned to Neville but barely knew what to ask. He needed no
prompting, however, and immediately began talking.
“Now
this one has always been a special specimen to me,” he noted with a
weird fondness in his tone. “She's one of our oldest SubVersions,
and has definitely been here just about the longest. A long-term
companion of mine, of a sort. She's been checked out more often for
experimentation than any other SubVersion we have.” He reached out
and caressed one of the woman's cheeks and sighed. “My little
angel. Never raised a fuss about her time here until that man
showed up.”
“What
man?” Anna asked, already knowing the answer.
“Daniel
Marcus, that bloody fool. He fancied himself in love with the poor
creature and got her pregnant. Normally we would have terminated such
an unauthorized pregnancy but the decision came down from the top to
keep it for observation. Then as luck would have it, Dr. Konrath
Jarrod needed a child for a project of his so we permanently moved
the child out of here. Mama stayed put though.” He gently touched
the woman's face again. “It's amazing how human she looks, is it
not? Beautiful, just beautiful . . . Anyways, after all that the
order came to freeze her like the others. She had been relatively
free to move around before that. Too bad she's been through so many
freeze and thaw cycles.”
“Why?”
Anna's questions were automatic, unthinking, as she stared in
gathering horror at the frozen woman in the box. Neville sighed
again.
“Just
like a piece of beef in your freezer at home,” he explained.
“Freeze and thaw it too many times and eventually it's worthless.”
Shocked,
Anna turned to face him. “You mean she's dead?”
“Oh,
no, not dead. Not yet, anyways. But at this point it would take quite
a bit of work to bring her back from her most current freeze. She'd
probably still be comatose for weeks before the revival procedure was
complete.” He shook his head. “Too bad. She's been here for more
than twenty years and I still haven't gotten my fill of her. I
normally don't take liberties with my SubVersions but she was simply
too special for me not to take a shag.”
In
that moment Anna felt the urge to strike him but all she could do was
gape open-mouthed at his flippancy. Neville didn't even seem to
notice her anger but instead gestured to the other man standing
nearby. “Jeremiah, it's time to say goodbye to my little angel.”
The
other man approached. “Really? How many freeze/thaw cycles has it
been for this one?”
“Twenty-two.
And you know what that means.”
The
man shook his head. “I'll be back.” He exited the cold storage
room for a few moments, then returned with a gurney-like trolley
which he wheeled up to the open drawer. Neville clicked a latch on
the front of the drawer and it dropped down, allowing the black box
to slide forward out of the drawer onto the gurney. After detaching a
mass of cables and piping from the box the man closed it and wheeled
the woman away.
“Wait,
where are they going?” Anna asked, her anxiety growing.
“You
needn't bother to watch this part, really, Miss McLean,” Neville
dissembled quickly.
Anna
watched as Jeremiah and the black box headed for a wide set of double
doors to their left, then turned an incredulous eye on Neville. “I'm
not letting that box out of my sight. Where are they going?”
For
the first time Neville appeared genuinely uneasy. “Miss McLean, out
of all the things I could show you down here, I'm sure you don't want
to see this. Let's go back, I have some other fantastic projects to
demonstrate-”
Anna
grabbed him by the arm and wrenched him towards her. She was rapidly
beginning to panic as she watched the woman in the box disappear
through the double doors. “I don't give a shit about what you want
to demonstrate to me, I want to know where he's taking her and what
you are planning on doing with her. So show me now!”
“Miss
McLean, really, there's no reason for violence-”
“Damn
you, show me! I want to see it, I want to see everything!” Anna
immediately regretted the request but she was not about to take it
back.
Neville
threw up his hands. “Fine! If you insist. If you must, you must.”
They traversed the space to the double doors but Neville hesitated
until Anna threw him a furious glance. He sighed. “But
don't tell me I didn't give you a word of warning.”
He
pushed open the doors and let them swing wide.
The
blast of noise and heat caught Anna completely by surprise and she
stood blinking in the scorching breeze, her hair thrashing her face
and her eyes tearing up. She put up a hand to shield herself and
glanced over at Neville with fear and uncertainty. He gave her a look
that Anna could not fathom; madness, maybe? Or was it terror?
“You
said you wanted to see everything,”
he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear over the din. “Your
words, not mine.” His unnerving smile reappeared, albeit not as
broad as before, and he waved her in. Anna reluctantly complied and
they stepped through the doors together.
The
new chamber arched up and over them in a tremendous half-barrel,
dimly lit by widely-spaced rows of yellow lights affixed to each
curved roof support. To the left, emerging at an angle from a
rectangular hole in the floor rose an enclosed conveyor reminiscent
of a strip mining machine. Its long frame carved a stark black shadow
into the air and terminated near the ceiling high above. The whole
assembly angled over an enormous hopper that began at the floor and
spread its gradually widening neck towards the conveyor's terminus.
Because
of their low angle Anna could not see into the hopper, but she
realized that it was creating both the noise and the heat. The
ceiling above flickered with a reddish-orange glow and the tremendous
machine ground out its cacophony as if in some dreadful agony.
“Follow
me,” Neville shouted over the noise, pointing towards a metal
stairway that led to the top of a maintenance gantry to their right.
They began to climb the steps, and the entire time they did so Anna's
eyes were glued to the hopper. She began to feel more sick with every
step she took, and when they had surmounted the last stair and
reached the top of the gantry her stomach had turned to mush. From
the top of the platform she could finally see down into the mouth of
the machine.
It
stretched at least twenty feet wide at the top, a gaping metal maw
with a flaming interior. The bottom of the machine glowed brightly
but the fire seemed to breathe from deep within, and more than that
she could not see at the moment. She had never believed in hell
before, but feeling the heated wind rise up from the mechanical beast
and seeing the glow of fierce flames inside reminded her of nothing
so awful as hell. The picture that had terrified her so badly in her
childhood came vividly to mind again, the two men walking through the
flaming underworld as the bodies of the damned burned all around
them.
She
looked back down from her high perch and saw Jeremiah and another
worker standing down near the base of the conveyor structure. They
had the lid of the black box open, and after several seconds of
squinting Anna realized with a fright that they were struggling to
remove the limp body of the woman inside.
“What
are they doing?” she exclaimed. Neville glanced over, then smiled
his grim, insane smile.
“Doing
their job.” He folded his arms and his tone took on a fatalistic
air. “Since you really wanted to see it all, then you're in luck.
This happens to be disposal day and that means you get to watch.”
Without
ceremony Jeremiah and his helper inserted the woman into an opening
in the side of the conveyor. Anna would have shouted to them to stop
but the words died in her throat in a dry squawk. With a sickening
flop the petite form of the woman fell into the dark and disappeared.
Neville shook his head.
“Such
a beautiful specimen,” he remarked pleasantly. “Ah, well, all
good things . . . “ He put two fingers in the air and signaled to
the men down below. Jeremiah nodded back, shut the door in the
conveyor, and tapped in a command on a control panel. Motors
sputtered, wheels ground, and the conveyor assembly roared to life.
Anna,
violently agitated, turned to Neville and tried to form a question
but her powers of speech had failed her. He leaned closer to her,
trying to hear. She tried again. “What are they doing? What is that
machine?” she rasped, her mind closing to the truth that was
dawning on her with horrible clarity. He turned away from her and
fixed his eyes on the conveyor's peak, face expectant and hands
clutching the handrail.
“That
machine is where we will all go,” he intoned. “It is where
everyone in this city goes who is not wanted.” He raised his face
up. “Where the SubVersions go when they are finished with their
usefulness, where the elderly from the geriatric homes go. An author
of old once wrote that if you have a problem without a solution, the
solution is to burn the problem.” He turned to Anna, and when he
smiled his teeth gleamed orange in the wretched light. “Watch the
problem burn, Miss McLean. Watch them burn.”
Something
emerged from the top of the conveyor. Long hair at first, then the
inert body of the woman Daniel loved appeared. The machine
dispassionately ejected the body headfirst into the air, and Anna
could not tear her eyes away as the woman plunged through the void
towards the fire below. She saw Neville out of the corner of her eye
blow a kiss to the victim as she fell; then with an awful suddenness
the woman struck the side of hopper and Anna heard the dull crack of
smashing skull. The body slid down the inside of the hopper, trailing
blood behind it as it vanished into the fire. A roar erupted from the
machine and flames swirled up to meet their prey, engulfing the
hopper in yellow fire. Then when Anna's unbelieving eyes were drawn
upwards again she realized it was only the beginning.
From
the mouth of the conveyor a stream of something began to pour out, a
lumpy brownish choked flow that at first Anna could not discern. She
blinked in the heat and looked again, and the individual forms of
human bodies became visible in the stream. Aged, broken bodies, men
and women, gaping dead eyes and slender naked limbs. In a massive
tangle the stream of corpses poured out, crashing unceremoniously
into the hopper below. Bones smashed, congealed blood dribbled down
the stained metal, and the fire thundered its enormous all-consuming
din.
A
powerful nausea rolled over Anna in a wave that she could not hope to
control. She could look no longer. She wrenched her way past Neville
and ran for a door at the end of the scaffold. Opening it and
stumbling into a hallway on the other side, she collapsed onto the
floor and vomited hard.
