Also, a tidbit: Sonya is the Russian-derived nickname for the feminine name "Sophia", which comes from Greek and means "wisdom". I'll let you draw your own conclusions . . .
Here is the new Chapter 15 of The SubVersion Complex. This book is intended for a more mature audience, so be advised.
╗ FIFTEEN ╚
SONYA
At
four fifty-five the doctor yawned one last time and grabbed his coat
from a nearby workbench. “I have officially had enough for one day.
That's what I get for going sleepless last night.” He chuckled and
patted Anna's arm. “You're younger and hardier than I, Anna. Would
you be able to stay and make sure that the brain wave sequencer
finishes correctly, if indeed it finishes tonight at all? It looks
like it shouldn't take more than hour, I hope.”
Anna
nodded as casually as she could and Dr. Jarrod thanked her and turned
on his heel towards the door. At the door he gave Anna a little wave
and disappeared, leaving her all alone in the room.
She
glanced up at the ceiling and frowned. Not quite all alone, she
thought as she stared into the electronic eyeball of a security
camera. After double-checking to make sure her hands could not be
seen by the camera, she turned slowly to the other workbench where
her tablet sat and peeked into the bag to see the status of her
files. With a flop of her stomach she saw that both files were done.
She unplugged the slicer, pulled the tablet out of its case and spun
back around in her chair, attempting to maintain a sense of
nonchalance despite the thumping vein in her temple. She crossed her
legs and set the tablet on her knee with the screen away from the
cameras and began to peruse the files.
The
first one she opened was a collection of vital statistics running for
many, many long pages, but a picture at the top of the data readout
caught her attention. The image was of a woman, a very young
beautiful woman with pale skin, long brown hair, and piercing brown
eyes. The eyes were the picture of sadness and resignation, and the
mouth was drawn in a taut unhappy line.
Anna
gazed for a long time at the picture. What was this? A personnel
profile? She couldn't be sure what she felt, but a hunch began to
form in her mind. She stared at the picture for a long pregnant
moment, then began skimming again. The middle section of the data ran
in a monotonous string for pages and pages but Anna was not
interested in that part. She skimmed towards the end and was
eventually rewarded with something intriguing.
The
“Notes” sections on all the other pages had remained blank for
the most part, besides the occasional stray comment or odd
observation. Near the end of the file, however, the notes sections
transformed into a veritable diary of eventful happenings, and Anna
examined them with growing interest and alarm. One note in particular
caught her eye; it read, “Estimated date of unauthorized sexual
activity between subject and D.M., will use to backdate pregnancy.
Monitor for any continued contact.”
D.M.?
Daniel Marcus, no doubt. This must have been the woman he had been
involved with, and if the data was to be believed they had been
lovers. No wonder he wanted to know where she was so badly. Anna's
heart melted unexpectedly for him and for his pain; she could forgive
some of his cruel behavior to her for that. But a question persisted
in her mind that she could not shake, something she needed an
understandable answer to before she would be willing to absolve
Daniel of all blame. What was the Subversion Complex for, and why was
this woman there at all? If it was indeed a prison, then there had to
be a reason she had been locked up.
She
scrolled to the end of the file and saw a final grouping of data
points, followed by a note that read, “Subject put back into cold
storage until further notice.” Above that was a box labeled
“Subject Location,” and it read “SubVersion Complex, Cold
Storage Room 3, Drawer 1049.”
Cold
storage? Drawer? Anna's skin crawled and she sat back in her chair,
as if physical space between her and the eerie file on her tablet
could save her from its disturbing power. And she cocked her head at
the spelling: SubVersion. She had
assumed it was the word “subversion,” a surefire conspiracy
theorist term used by crackpots who railed against the government.
But looking at it now it seemed awfully similar to HomoGen's
“Versions.” The only problem was she had never heard of a
“SubVersion” before. Her puzzlement increased, and soon she was
doubting whether they had any connection at all. She quickly
closed out the file and opened the other, but it proved to be little
better.
Grimacing
at her from the top of the new file was the image of a child,
probably six or seven years old, with a shaven head and prominent
facial features. Although Anna knew it was a female from what Daniel
had told her, it would have been difficult to tell just by looking at
the picture whether it was a boy or a girl. The girl's sunken eyes
exuded sadness and the tight line of her mouth only added to the
disturbing effect. Anna stared for several seconds in a sort of
fascinated unease at the face, then slowly began to comb through the
text of the data. It gave things similar to the first file like
running stats of height, weight, body temperature, and hundreds of
other data points that stretched for pages and pages.
But
that picture haunted her imagination. She realized that the woman and
this girl bore a striking resemblance to each other, so striking that
they could be mother and daughter. No, they have to be mother and
daughter, it's the only way that this all makes sense, Anna mused
uncomfortably. It all jived perfectly with what Daniel had told her
and the notes section in the other file.
Finally,
near the end, Anna found something interesting. The section featured
the title “Subject Transfer History” and gave a short list of
what looked like differing locations. At the end sat a small note,
which simply read “Specimen signed out indefinitely to Dr. Konrath
Jarrod. Final subject location: Laboratory A1A, Central
Administration Complex.”
Below
that, very clearly signed with a flourish, was Dr. Jarrod's
signature.
A
cold sweat broke out over Anna's entire body as she slowly put the
tablet back into its case. So the transfer order ended up
here, in this very room, she
thought. The eerie conclusion clicked in her mind. That
means that the little girl in the picture is somewhere in this room
right now. She glanced around
the lab in a futile attempt to divine where the girl might be, but
nothing immediately presented itself. It was only when her eye fell
on the main display of the reactive computer that a horrible thought
came into her mind.
Behind
the display, buried in its network of cables and paraphernalia was
the heart of the reactive computer, the coffin-like black box that
Anna had fleetingly thought earlier could comfortably house a small
child.
No,
it couldn't be . . .
The
notion disturbed her so badly that it was an effort to remain
outwardly calm. She walked over to the reactive computer and stood
standing there for several seconds, running her fingers over the
edges of the displays. Only two things surfaced in her mind: that
there was someone
inside the box, and that Dr. Jarrod knew about it. Not only did he
know, but it seemed he had signed off on the little girl's transfer.
And he had left Anna all alone in the room with it.
₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪
For
the next hour Anna's spirit raged inside her as she waited in agony
for the reactive computer to finish the scan. She could not shake the
horrid feeling of being not alone.
Left
alone with that . . . thing.
Thing,
girl, monstrous creature, whatever it was. If indeed that was what
was in the box, but Anna somehow had no doubt in her mind that the
box did contain what she feared it did. There was no other place for
the girl to hide in the lab, unless . . . she was in more than one
piece. Anna shuddered at the thought and desperately thrust that
possibility out of her mind. She would go with her first assumption
for now.
There
was nothing to do but wait for the scan to complete. Anna found she
couldn't get comfortable in any position, whether sitting or standing
or pacing around. The whole awful concept burned in her mind like
nothing ever had before. At one point she turned toward the computer
and the desperate thought occurred to her that she could pop the box
open and confirm her suspicions once and for all, but she recoiled
just as quickly and decided against it.
Her
mind churned for answers but none came. Only questions bubbled to the
surface. She knew Dr. Jarrod was more than aware what he was doing,
but how the thought of using a little girl for an experiment ever
entered his head she could not fathom. How many other people knew
what was actually going on here? Did Adam know?
She
felt her stomach growing sick again at the thought of the girl. What
had they done to her? Why had they done it? And worst of all, why had
she been trapped inside the SubVersion Complex for what looked like
years before being shipped here to be used as part of an experiment?
Which led back to her original question . . .
What
was the SubVersion Complex?
She
shuddered again and put it out of her head for the moment. There were
bigger and more immediate problems at hand. She turned to the main
display on the computer and with a shock realized that the scan had
completed. The scan is complete. Theoretically that means that I
can talk to the brain inside. The brain inside . . .
She
stared at the display for a long time without moving. The brain wave
pattern readout undulated in regular patterns like it always had, but
now next to it there blinked an input window. Anna realized that the
algorithm was working and that the computer sat ready to finally do
what it had been designed to do. She fell into the chair in front of
the keyboard but still hesitated. Equal parts morbid curiosity and
revulsion mixed inside her as she considered trying it out.
With
a sudden burst of either desperation or confidence she typed the
opening command. The electronic side of the computer would be running
standard QX code, but if the algorithm was indeed working it would
translate whatever code she typed into the appropriate brain wave
impulses on the other side. Once the opening command was typed in she
struck Enter.
The
brain wave pattern immediately contorted and stuttered, and Anna
recoiled as she began to see the patterns speed up and pulsate. She
looked back to her input display and her heart raced. Underneath it
was a window labeled “Output” and text began to fill it in. It
was one sentence long.
'Please
stop you're hurting me.'
Anna
froze. Could it even be possible? Or was it a trick of the code? She
went back to her input window and typed 'I don't want to
hurt you.' Perhaps it was not
real.
A
pause, then more text appeared. 'It makes my head hurt make
it stop.'
Anna's
heart pounded. She was talking to the girl in the box. In a fevered
daze she typed 'Who are you?'
She waited for a moment, and sure enough more text appeared.
'I'm
Sonya and I'm trapped get me out I want to get out where's my mommy I
want my mommy.'
The
girl had a mother. The girl's name was Sonya. And she was in pain.
Suddenly the humanity of the creature inside the computer struck Anna
in a wave and she sat back in her chair, stunned. Her eyes filled
with tears; she almost didn't know why. She reached for the keyboard
again. 'I don't know where your mother is, I'm so sorry.'
A
long silent moment passed before anything appeared again on the
screen. Then a short burst of text: 'Please get me out it's
so dark I'm scared.'
A
tear ran down Anna's check and fell onto the keyboard. She sat
motionless, unsure of what to tell this poor girl. Her hands trembled
with an emotion she could barely understand, a surge of
protectiveness and a feeling bordering on attachment. She was about
to type again when the output window filled with more text.
'What's
your name?'
For
some reason the question caught her completely off-guard. She bit her
lip, then typed 'My name is Anna.' Then she added, 'I wish
I could get you out of there, I wish I could find your mommy for
you.' She had never really spoken to or interacted with many
children before so she felt suddenly awkward speaking to one even
through the stilted interface of the computer.
No
response appeared on the screen. Anna waited for what seemed an age
but still no answer. Fearful that somehow she was losing her
subject's attention, she wracked her brain for something to say. Then
something occurred to her, but she found herself wincing as she typed
it: 'I lost my mommy too.'
Sure
enough a reply was not long in coming. 'Oh do you have the same
mommy as me? We should find her.'
Anna
found herself smiling grimly at the suggestion, and another tear
trickled to the end of her nose. She realized that she liked this
girl. She began to type again when another message from Sonya
appeared. 'I like your name Anna it's pretty.'
Anna
stopped typing her own message and sat still, listening to herself
breathe and the computer hum. The situation was surreal. The biggest
dream of her life, the reactive computer, sat in front of her and all
she could do was have a basic conversation with the brain inside. The
mind inside. The entire experience was completely unlike what
she had ever fantasized about it.
She
typed 'I've always liked my name. I like yours too.'
An
idea occurred to her, and she leaned to one side so she could see the
black box a little better. The lid was secured to the rest of the box
with hinges on the long side and a trio of latches on the other.
However, there were also screws pinning the lid closed all around its
perimeter, securing it shut.
What
would happen if I opened the box?
She
knew she had roundly rejected doing so earlier, but now that she was
certain of what was inside, somehow it didn't seem half as crazy.
Except she had no idea of Sonya's condition, how she was hooked up to
the computer, what sort of physical state she was in. Anna sat
undecided for what felt like an eternity, her fear and her curiosity
battling for dominance. On top of everything else, whoever was
watching her via the security cameras would certainly see her open
the box. Who knew if she would be stopped for doing it?
She
glanced at the monitor and saw another message from Sonya. 'My
head hurts Anna make it stop.'
That
settled things in Anna's mind. Without another contrary thought she
hopped off the chair and pulled the rolling toolbox over to the
computer. Selecting the appropriate torque driver, she gingerly
pushed aside the masses of cabling and tubing that snaked to and from
the black box and began working on the first screw. They were tightly
secured and Anna had some trouble, but ten minutes and two sore hands
later she had removed every last one. She snapped the wing latches
open first, then reached for the main one, but again stopped in fear.
Why
was she doing this? Suddenly every instinct in her body insisted that
she stop, that she walk away. That she tell Adam what was going on,
perhaps, so he could fix it all. Or perhaps that she should just
finish the transfer protocol project and forget that this entire
thing happened. Forget that she knew about Sonya, let the whole thing
drop from her mind.
And
it was then, while she crouched next to the black box absorbed in
these thoughts, that she heard a sound that she would never forget.
It was a sound that completely banished all thoughts of abandonment
and betrayal from her head, quelling any desire in her to run from
something that she knew she could never un-know.
From
deep inside the box's dim interior came a sigh; the sorrowful, fitful
sigh of a child who has cried for hours and hours and has no tears
left to cry.
Steeling
herself for the worst, Anna flipped the final latch and let it fall
open, then took the lid in both hands and slowly lifted it up. It
creaked a loud creak, the noise of rarely used and never oiled
hinges. Anna's spirit sank as it occurred to her that this box
probably was not meant to be opened for a long, long time. She pushed
the top all the way open and looked inside. Initially she saw nothing
but a strange paper-like substance, very much like opening a gift
wrapped in tissue paper. She guessed it was some sort of insulating
substance meant to protect the subject inside and she reached in and
spread the paper apart. Even with all of the time her mind had had to
accommodate itself to such a disturbing idea, Anna found herself
unprepared for what she saw next.
Lying
on her back in the bed of insulating paper was the limp body of a
little girl, her pale slender arms straight against her sides and her
spindly legs lying straight with ankles together. She was dressed in
a flimsy piece of clothing that resembled a hospital gown in that it
only covered the front, and it was shifted around almost as if the
girl had moved quite a bit since being put into the box. But it was
her face and head that caused Anna to feel horribly queasy yet again.
The girl had no hair to speak of on the top of her head; rather, in
an obscene parody of long hair, from her scalp there sprouted
innumerable slender probes that connected to wiring which flowed out
of one end of the box and into the computer. The skin of her scalp
had actually been peeled away in some spots where larger probes had
been inserted.
The
girl's face looked similar to her picture in her file, except this
face was even more sunken and tortured. She wore a sort of blindfold
or eye protection of some sort, and thrust into her nose was a long
thin oxygen tube. Embedded into her abdomen were two other tubes, one
for food and one for waste presumably, and in her arm was stuck an
IV. All of the girl's skin shone a pasty white, and tattooed into her
upper arm was the number SVC1001-1FX.
Anna
gaped at the miserable form in the box for several long minutes, her
soul devoid of any feeling other than absolute revulsion and fierce
sadness. However, instead of willing herself to go numb, to feel
nothing this time, she dared to fully savor the depth of her grief as
she looked at Sonya. There was a grave injustice at work here and
Anna could not help but feel herself moved to sorrow.
Then
she heard the sound again, and clearly saw Sonya's chest rise briefly
and fall in a long unconscious and broken sigh. A single tear
trickled out from underneath the blindfold and disappeared into the
paper below the little girl as she grimaced faintly. Anna saw the
tear, the sigh, the pitiful condition of the helpless subject in
front of her and in that moment something snapped. Whether it was the
repellant combination of human and machine or the sudden thought that
the girl had a strange terrible beauty about her, she was never sure.
Whatever it was, tears surged into Anna's eyes; she leaned on the
side of the box and wept, and as she did so she put out a hand and
touched the girl's face softly, feeling the surprising cold of
Sonya's skin. The unconscious form of the little girl did not
noticeably respond to her touch though, and Anna wept more.
As
she sobbed a notion crossed her mind and grew stronger the longer she
looked at the black box and its occupant. A crazy notion to be sure,
but a strange and powerful urge that would not subside. Without
knowing how it might be accomplished or what her life would hold in
the future if she tried, she suddenly felt that she absolutely must
get this girl out. Out of this laboratory, out of Central Admin, out
of D.C.
But
where to start? Perhaps with Adam? But her face darkened as she
realized that the Secretary might be as deep in this as Dr. Jarrod,
in which case he would be absolutely no help. Maybe Daniel would
know how to break her out, Anna thought, then cursed herself for
even considering wanting to work with him. But the curse felt
halfhearted in the face of what she had seen already today. Besides,
the realization struck her that she was Daniel's break-out
plan, or very probably, and it would make perfect sense if this was
his daughter. Anna found herself staring into the child's face and
tried to recall Daniel's face for comparison, but the trauma of the
girl's ordeal made it difficult to tell if there was a resemblance.
The
question still remained as to what both mother and daughter were
doing in the SubVersion Complex in the first place, but that was for
a later time. She turned to take one last look at the computer
monitor and her pulse quickened at what she saw.
In
the Output window new words had appeared: 'I heard you crying did
you touch my face please make it stop hurting Anna please don't
leave.'
The
words ripped Anna's heart out. There was no way to just take the girl
out; it was not something Anna could do on her own anyways. Any
attempt to move Sonya in the condition she was in would probably kill
her. Neither was there an easy way to convince Dr. Jarrod to stop his
experiment. He would never stop, she was convinced. Nor could she
simply let the whole matter drop, she just couldn't. For lack of
anything better to do she closed the box again and screwed it shut.
A
knock on the door nearly sent Anna's pulse through the roof. She
turned away from the black box and answered, “Yes?”
The
door clicked open and an aide stepped in. “Miss McLean?”
“That's
me.” Anna felt one hundred percent sure someone had been watching
her over the cameras, had seen her open the box. Why else would they
be here?
“The
Party Secretary would like to see you in his office. Now.”
Anna
stood resolutely and took one last look around. I'm sure he does.
I'd like to speak with him too. She glanced over at her tablet
case and hesitated, remembering that the code slicer sat nestled
inside. She wondered if it would be safer to leave the case behind or
to bring it with her. She decided with trepidation that it would be
better if the tablet and slicer stayed in the lab for now, since the
security was tighter in front of the Secretary's office and she had
no idea what they might want to confiscate besides her gun before she
walked in. She leaned over to turn the workbench light off and in the
same motion, out of sight of the aide and the cameras, she pulled the
tablet case off the table and slid it onto a cabinet sitting
underneath the workbench. That would have to do for now. Her purse
would have to come with her, however, since it held her ID badge.
She
straightened her dress and headed towards the door. “Lead the way,”
she said to the aide with more confidence than she really felt.
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