*This is actually one of my first attempts at writing a sci-fi novel, but I thought it would be interesting to throw in raunchy vampires, smelly werewolves, and terrifying monsters in a post-apocalyptic, corporate-controlled backdrop...not quite unicorns with laser beams, but technically it's classified as fantasy right? Anyway, I'm a little nervous about this because there's foul language and very unlikable characters, so please don't take anything negative said here as a reflection of my personal opinions. They have a life of their own @.@*
*I will also post the second part of this chapter, the whole thing is actually 17 pgs. (I don't know if it's good, but that's the average length of my chapters. 15-20 pgs)
There was no point getting up, the officer was an insignificant black speck in the distance, hastily making his way across the vast room of white walls and floors. It seemed to stretch forever, but at the very opposite end of the enormous chamber of an office was a rather large desk, the surface of which a major computer screen devoid of a keyboard. Sitting at that desk was a very important lady. She was not to be disturbed; unless, of course, it involved a matter of great importance.
“This better be worth my time, Mitchell.” She said scathingly, the richness of her British accent adding a rather nastiness to it. There was too much to do, and her duties left little time for her famous pastime….researching ancient family bloodlines. By ancient, that meant back to the very origins of mankind. It was a hobby really, the secrets of blood had long ago been unraveled, but that didn’t mean everything had been discovered. Dr. Shanti Ramada was determined to leave her mark… in the name of ARGOS, of course. Mustn’t forget her employer.
Mitchell was a rather befuddled fellow, completely useless, but everyone had their place. Unfortunately, he was made an ARGOS Protective Service Officer, and her assistant no less. Blood wasn’t everything.
“Sorry to disturb you, Madam, but the undesirables are awaiting your presence. They should be good stock, I think. None of them seem off.” Mitchell was an insufferable wart, and the complexities of the truth were beyond him. Blood was the great identifier. If not for ARGOS the city would be crawling with disease-carrying, loathsomely burdensome, ultimately unworthy specimens. That was what contributed to the downfall of humanity, after all. Bad blood…or rather, bad genes. Thank the gods for ARGOS.
The doctor frowned at the prospect of leaving her research, but this was just one of her many duties.
“Don’t be so sure. I believe last time half were rejected for even fifth class status…damned radiation. Where did you find this batch?” Mitchell, dressed in a full PSO battle suit including the ridiculous helmet, aggrandized his stature at the very opportunity of describing his efforts.
“We located them in a hidden enclave, madam. It wasn’t hard tracking them down once we knew where to start. They were holed up in what appeared to be an old wreck of a stadium…”
“How many?” Dr. Ramada interrupted, uninterested and quite unimpressed no matter what he said, as she glared at the PSO with an obvious hatred. Why bother hiding such strong feelings of repulsion? Mitchell was nothing but a flea compared to her own grandeur.
“Twenty three.”
“Twenty three? Honestly, what am I paying you for?” Ramada snapped, trying to contain the river of boiling anger. How could anyone be proud of that number? “That’s even fewer than the last shipment!”
“Doctor, I understand your disappointment, but it’s harder than you think. Some escaped while others were casualties…I don’t have enough man power!” Ramada could feel her own, genetically superior, blood pump furiously in frustration.
“Absolutely ridiculous!” She barked, “I shall NOT disturb the glorious counsel because you are unable to catch enough riffraff to meet the quota for this month! Those filthy undesirables breed like rabbits, so it shouldn’t be hard for you to snatch the little buggers! ERRH!” The pencil in her hand snapped in half and plummeted onto the desk…This was a waste of time, and she didn’t appreciate being disturbed for this. However, ARGOS has the final word. Their wish is her command.
Dr. Ramada left her chair, recovering from her brisk moment of uncontrollable rage, and headed for the assimilation chamber. Mitchell, the never-ending oaf, followed like a loyal but annoying little pup. This was the most horrible part, overseeing the initial assimilation process...it was truly disgusting, having to be near all that dirt…yet, it was her duty alone to enter every single specimen into the database and weed out the unworthy among them for disposal. Very intimate, very emotional…very boring.
“Dr. Ramada, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to anger you, please forgive my impudence.” A slick smile fell on the scientist’s face whilst she walked, engulfed by the echo of her black high-heels clicking on the spotless floors of the facility, quickly skimming the notes on her portable computer slide-screen. Having access to the database, known as the Virtually-enhanced Artificial Intelligence Network…In other words, VAIN, at all times was essential no matter the situation. VAIN had replaced the internet several years before, and safeguarded all the knowledge of the world with little trouble, but only those with high-level clearance could access the mainframe. No riffraff allowed.
“No worries, Mitchell.” She mused, entering a long and narrow hallway…blindingly bright, clean, and white. “How could I stay angry at a complete nincompoop, especially one with such a goofy face?” Mitchell was smart enough at least not to take offence, knowing at any time it was well within her power to rip his oversized head off.
“Very good observation, doctor...” He mumbled, scurrying officiously behind the tawny woman, as they approached the assimilation chamber. At the end of a seemingly never-ending hallway was the preparation station, which aided the program considerable.
The undesirables brought to the facility would first be thoroughly scrubbed down and screened for radiation poisoning. Only a pitiful few were ever in the red, and at which point are properly disposed off. After a good and healthy scrubbing, usually involving a nice hosing, the undesirables are then given a hygienic haircut. Well, not that it was for fashionable purposes. Like sheering a wooly little lamb, the undesirables were shaved bare. The filth of the outlands must not touch the very earth beyond this facility. The city cannot be overrun with savage barbarians, after all. Yes, preparation was indeed a necessary part of the assimilation process.
Dr. Ramada heard a great commotion from beyond the metal doors of the preparation station. Both of them were caught off guard when all of a sudden the metal doors slid open. Steam from the hot showers billowed out into the hallway, from which a raging boy emerged. Half his head shaved, one side long and captivatingly black, the boy ran for his life toward them as three men in rubber yellow radiation suits chased behind. It would have seemed comical if Ramada wasn’t such a germiphobe.
“The child is contaminating this facility!” She roared, hot with mind-numbing rage. Before she knew it the half naked brat bolted right passed them, and Mitchell just stood there like a miserable lump of a man. Not one courageous bone in him. Yet, the child was strange, even for an undesirable. It was his eyes, wild and fierce, that really astonished the scientist. Those pale blue spheres seemed old…even wise, though his body was young and frail. “Catch him!” Her hiss echoed down the hall, nipping the heels of the boy’s feet. He was very fast.
Guards at the other end of the hall heard the raucous and came running, guns out and ready, but were caught by surprise at the sight of the miscreant. However, they weren’t completely useless, unlike Mitchell, and seized the child by the arms just as he tried to dive passed them. Ramada could only shake her head at the disorganization and incompetence that caused this mess. The entire hallway will have to be sterilized now!
“Let go!” The boy growled, deep and vicious, as he pulled and writhed around in the guard’s grip. The creature was utterly savage, as if he grew up in the wilderness…which couldn’t be put passed an undesirable. They were rather uncivilized beings, completely inferior in every respect.
The three rubber idiots stood around, shifting uncomfortably, as the Doctor glared menacingly at them. Fire could have leapt from those eyes! Mitchell decided it was time to assert himself into the situation, after the fact.
“Don’t just stand there counting the tiles, you reckless fools! Clean up this mess!” He ordered, considering the boy for a moment. “Finish preparing the miserable brat, and this time there better not be any mistakes!” Shanti studied the creature and his futile efforts to escape. Damned undesirables were a nasty part of the job, their filth an obscenity against the city! There was no other choice but to deal with them, having been ordered by ARGOS to oversee this program. My skills could be put to better use!
“As soon as you’re finished, ready the children for assimilation.” Ramada ordered, deadly serious. Her eyes were fixed on the boy, who would have clawed everyone if given the chance. His eyes were like paled sapphires, cold yet beautiful in the light. This child would make for an interesting subject. “Starting with that one.”
Disgruntled about looking bad in front of their superiors, the men in the radiation-proof suits dragged the rebellious child back through the metallic doors for further preparation. Ramada and Mitchell both watched until the heavy doors slid shut once more.
“Children…” Ramada said quietly, reflecting upon her own past. “I despise them more than staphylococcus, little monsters that they are. In my opinion, the world would be better off without them.” The Doctor took out a face mask from her white jacket, and put it on for protective measures. Who knew what kind of infectious viruses lay dormant within those filthy outlanders?
“I agree, Madame.” Replied the PSO, obviously nervous beneath her cutting glare. What a festering puss ball. Ramada paid no heed to the lame assistant, and went straight into the assimilation chamber. As in all chambers involved with the Celestia Integration Organization, the facility was built to make one feel small and meaningless. The Assimilation Chamber mostly comprised of vast space, with one wall built completely into the VAIN database, full of blaring blue screens that reached high up to the ceiling. It was here the true intellectual magnificence of VAIN resided. VAIN was alive despite popular belief, an artificial being that watched the city twenty-four-seven, and contained the world’s accumulated knowledge; the last great masterpiece of mankind before civilization as they knew it crumbled into history. VAIN belonged to ARGOS now, and without him the city would be in utter chaos.
At the center of the chamber was a sleek machine, where one could interact with VAIN, which could analyze data among other things. Shanti comfortably sat down at this machine and accessed VAIN’s mainframe. The moment her fingers touched the screen he verified her fingerprints…not that he couldn’t see her anyway.
“Hello Dr. Ramada,” said VAIN in a placid and relaxed voice. “Good morning to you. I detect that recently your body experienced a period of high blood pressure...which for you is not abnormal. Still, is everything to your satisfaction?”
“Oh, VAIN…if you were a man there wouldn’t be a woman alive that could resist your charm!” Dr. Ramada laughed, starting up the assimilator. Lights flickered and switched up ahead, cascading over an intimidating chair with huge flashing panels. Technology had saved the human race… it was science, not silly notions like God, that protected mankind as the world changed and darkened. At this point, there was nothing they couldn’t do. They were the gods now, and could wield unimaginable power with the stroke of their fingertips. VAIN was just one of many extravagant achievements responsible for that.
Mitchell was off to the side talking on his radio, notifying the preparation station that they were ready to receive subjects for analyzation. His black suit shined under the blinding light that filled the chamber, though he still persisted in shielding his face with that ridiculous helmet! Ramada nodded toward him. The assimilator was ready, the database prepped for new entries.
“Bring in the crazy one first…I don’t care if he’s a handful! The sooner he’s dealt with, the better!...Do as you’re told, damn it!” The other voice on the radio was yelling and quite exasperated, the sound of screaming and flying metal objects in the background. My goodness, we haven’t had one this feisty since the very beginning of the program, when things were even less organized than it is now!
Waiting was never something she could stand, especially when there was so much to do in the space of a day! A few minutes went by, and despite being down the hall from them, the dumb preparation staff were still struggling to deliver the boy!
“Unbelievable.” She mumbled under her breath, growing angrier by the minute. VAIN was kind enough to point that out.
“Doctor your blood pressure is rising again…”
“I know!” She snapped, rolling her eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my bodily functions alone for once, thank you!”
“But doctor, high blood pressure is a leading contributor of heart disease…” She could feel the blood flushing to her face all at once.
“VAIN! You know that doesn’t concern me!” After all these years VAIN was just beginning to grasp humor, and nowadays he applied it more often than people liked. At least he wasn’t telling knock-knock jokes.
“Sorry, doctor…If it’s any consolation, I have received news from the Para-Sciences Department that their most recent project has been a success.” Ramada gasped in shock, the fierce bite of envy stinging her thoughts. It just wasn’t fair…discoveries were rolling one after another, at breathtaking speed, but her own research had barely progressed in the course of five years.
“How? They only started a few months ago…don’t tell me it was Project TriFates!” VAIN didn’t realize that she really didn’t mean that, about not wanting to know, so he stayed silent. Seconds went by without an answer.
“Well?” Ramada finally inquired, tapping her long and elegant fingers against the touch-screen. “Was it TriFates or not?” The virtual and man-made being was quick to answer, now that he knew what she wanted. Ugh. Emotions were strange to him after all.
“Yes, Dr. Ramada, it was.”
“How much progress did they make…have they isolated the gene for precog?”
“That, and based on their findings, they estimate that within the year they will be able to manipulate it for more enhanced results. Would you like a copy of their report for further edification, doctor?” She was frozen in amazement. The rebels stood little chance against ARGOS now. Within a couple of years, thanks to Project TriFates, their whereabouts will easily be pinpointed on so much as a well aimed question. Very good. Things were looking better all the time.
“As a matter of fact, I do! Have it sent to my desk, please.” A broad smile crept on her lovely face, which very rarely happened. Ramada was more of a pessimist, one who expected things to go wrong no matter what, and so she did more scowling than anything else…especially when Mitchell had the opportunity to **** things up. Yes, everything really was his fault.
A loud banging noise echoed from the hall, and then a rather powerful scream that could have ruptured someone’s eardrum. Knowing what came next, the good doctor entered the assimilation program from a long list of icons, and drew out the option NEW PROFILE. A hidden compartment unlocked beside her, a shelf that pushed out of the desk, revealing a pair of gloves. Any moron in this day and age could see that these gloves were different than the soft and wooly kind. For instance, these were made of metal and holo-fibers, a new material synthesized for dealing with holograms.
Dr. Ramada was very quick as the shouting became louder and more distinct. The sounds were muffled by the thick walls, but her hearing was impeccably good.
“They will find me, just you wait! You’ll be sorry!” The boy’s idle threats continued…and it sounded like he was kicking against the walls in an attempt to get free.“ There will be no mercy for any of you! Not if you don’t let me go!” Ramada shook her head with a pitiless expression. Not another howler, a child that clearly hasn’t assessed the situation. No one would be coming; there would be no daring rescue. ARGOS was a force that could not be stopped, and these wretched outlanders were in a place of no return. After thinking this to herself cheerfully, Ramada fit the skin-tight gloves over her hands.
The metal facets in the gloves were for trapping and manipulating holograms, the holo-fibers for projecting those images in 3-D. The Doctor’s fingers trapped and consequently activated the assimilator…the enormous chair before her sprang to life, unfolding itself into a comfy looking recliner. Actually, the chair didn’t look that appealing, but the child wouldn’t know any better. He didn’t know what it was used for, and would subsequently forget the whole experience.
Mitchell fidgeted as the chair moved, the flashing panels of light about it creating perceptual chaos. He was a groveling worm, but his presence was necessary, unfortunately. Ramada could feel her blood boil just thinking about his incompetence. Stupid creature.
The thick titanium doors slid back, followed by a stream of people centered around one. Guards, yellow and red-clad prep staff, and even a receptionist entered the chamber, their hands clenching hold of the viciously writhing boy. It was an unforgivable commotion, and it had to stop. Mitchell glanced from her to the snarling child, back to her again. Ramada stood up and pointed at the assimilator with one, long, accusingly sharp finger. Her eyes were cold as steel and as serrated as a blade. Mitchell knew those eyes, and quickly took hold of the situation before things got out of hand.
He grabbed the receptionist by the arm and pushed her out, since this was far from where she should have been, and herded the struggling mass of arms to the assimilator. The noise was like a siren in her ears, forcing her to clench down into a stiff figurine. Ramada was so close to losing control that another few minutes of this would surely spell disaster.
“Get the screwball on the chair, I say!” Mitchell yelled, though his voice barely broke higher than the child’s irate screams. So, he freed the glow-rod from its place at his hip, and shocked the boy on the stomach…the electrical energy in the weapon was enough to kill an adult, let alone a child, but he had it on stun. It worked, and not a moment too soon.
Ramada unclenched her teeth as the child fell limp in the guard’s arms, temporarily paralyzed as two PSO guards put him in the chair. Of course, they nearly knocked into the surgical table beside the assimilator, which held very delicate technical instruments for later use, but at least the noise had lowered somewhat. The prep men were swearing under their breath, completely taken aback by how difficult this one child had been. Mitchell put away the glow-rod once more, satisfied at how the situation turned out. Ramada buried her head into her arms, once seated, feeling almost helpless at what had almost occurred.
The child was never a problem…it was her anger, the seething rage that wanted to be unleashed, and it was something she fought against relentlessly. This facility was far from the place where she belonged. It was so sterile, so emotionless and empty…far from the jungle and the roar of the creatures lurking within it…this memory, a faint image here and a lingering sensation there, was all that remained. Jungles no longer existed, animals were a thing of the past, but one thing that would always exist would be the unquenchable thirst. The lust for the hunt. That, however, was impossible now in this setting. Could you imagine a thing like that? A civilized woman like herself going on the rampage? What bad etiquette.
“VAIN.” She groaned, feeling weak and lightheaded. “Give me the concoction, it's happening again.” Blasted children and their smelliness. Mitchell glanced at her from beneath the black tint of his visor, clearly concerned. Not for her, of course. For them.
“Right away, doctor.” said the utterly pleasant and relaxed voice. The guards knew what that meant, shifting nervously under their weight, as Ramada continued to cover her face. How embarrassing. Losing control like this was starting to become a habit, and an easy one at that. It couldn’t be helped. With one good dose of adrenaline the order of this facility could be turned on its head, and that was a scary thought…especially knowing that the counsel would disapprove, and reprimand her for a simple slip up, even though she worked hard everyday to make them proud. ARGOS was more than a company for Dr. Ramada, they were a sanctuary and a family all rolled in one. Yet, there were rules, responsibilities that she had to assume. Sometimes these rules were burdensome to uphold, increasingly so considering the situation.
VAIN acted quickly as always, another compartment opened…this time beside the surface-screen of the desk. An octagon of needlepoints shot up from the compartment, hidden beneath the shadows of which was a medium vial of plasma. The concoction…life in a bottle…or in this case a shot. Ramada took one look at the glistening needles and without hesitation slammed her wrist down atop it with surprising force. The thump she made caused the men looking on to flinch, cringing at the thought of those long and scary needles.
The doctor gasped as the mixture flew into her veins in an instant, nourishment and satisfaction all in one. She could have orgasmed, it felt so good, but that would have blemished her upstanding reputation. Ramada let out a long sigh, unaware of the trembling meatbags in her presence, as the needles ripped away from her flesh and disappeared once more in the desk. This was convenient compared to how things used to be. However, time changes all things…time refines and transforms aspects of life that one would never have suspected. Still, this did take the fun out of it.
All that was left now was an octagon of bloody pinpricks…she had to look away or oblige in her old savage nature. This was a society of order, after all. Clean and simplistic order. The prep men, wearing their tacky yellow and red protective suites, adorned in plastic mouth guards and clear visors that shielded their entire face, backed away. They didn’t dare stay, same for the PSO guards, but intended to leave as quickly as their feet would let them. The doors snapped shut behind them, leaving only the doctor, the moron, and the incapacitated child. Pathetic, how irritating. Of course, if they had decent reasoning skills, they’d know that she was no longer dangerous. At least, not the sort of danger they were thinking of. The shot nourished the beastly thirst, but sometimes she fantasized about rampaging anyway. The human race had gotten dumber over the years, not that they weren’t dumb to begin with.
*I will also post the second part of this chapter, the whole thing is actually 17 pgs. (I don't know if it's good, but that's the average length of my chapters. 15-20 pgs)
Chapter One
Assimilation
Assimilation
There was no point getting up, the officer was an insignificant black speck in the distance, hastily making his way across the vast room of white walls and floors. It seemed to stretch forever, but at the very opposite end of the enormous chamber of an office was a rather large desk, the surface of which a major computer screen devoid of a keyboard. Sitting at that desk was a very important lady. She was not to be disturbed; unless, of course, it involved a matter of great importance.
“This better be worth my time, Mitchell.” She said scathingly, the richness of her British accent adding a rather nastiness to it. There was too much to do, and her duties left little time for her famous pastime….researching ancient family bloodlines. By ancient, that meant back to the very origins of mankind. It was a hobby really, the secrets of blood had long ago been unraveled, but that didn’t mean everything had been discovered. Dr. Shanti Ramada was determined to leave her mark… in the name of ARGOS, of course. Mustn’t forget her employer.
Mitchell was a rather befuddled fellow, completely useless, but everyone had their place. Unfortunately, he was made an ARGOS Protective Service Officer, and her assistant no less. Blood wasn’t everything.
“Sorry to disturb you, Madam, but the undesirables are awaiting your presence. They should be good stock, I think. None of them seem off.” Mitchell was an insufferable wart, and the complexities of the truth were beyond him. Blood was the great identifier. If not for ARGOS the city would be crawling with disease-carrying, loathsomely burdensome, ultimately unworthy specimens. That was what contributed to the downfall of humanity, after all. Bad blood…or rather, bad genes. Thank the gods for ARGOS.
The doctor frowned at the prospect of leaving her research, but this was just one of her many duties.
“Don’t be so sure. I believe last time half were rejected for even fifth class status…damned radiation. Where did you find this batch?” Mitchell, dressed in a full PSO battle suit including the ridiculous helmet, aggrandized his stature at the very opportunity of describing his efforts.
“We located them in a hidden enclave, madam. It wasn’t hard tracking them down once we knew where to start. They were holed up in what appeared to be an old wreck of a stadium…”
“How many?” Dr. Ramada interrupted, uninterested and quite unimpressed no matter what he said, as she glared at the PSO with an obvious hatred. Why bother hiding such strong feelings of repulsion? Mitchell was nothing but a flea compared to her own grandeur.
“Twenty three.”
“Twenty three? Honestly, what am I paying you for?” Ramada snapped, trying to contain the river of boiling anger. How could anyone be proud of that number? “That’s even fewer than the last shipment!”
“Doctor, I understand your disappointment, but it’s harder than you think. Some escaped while others were casualties…I don’t have enough man power!” Ramada could feel her own, genetically superior, blood pump furiously in frustration.
“Absolutely ridiculous!” She barked, “I shall NOT disturb the glorious counsel because you are unable to catch enough riffraff to meet the quota for this month! Those filthy undesirables breed like rabbits, so it shouldn’t be hard for you to snatch the little buggers! ERRH!” The pencil in her hand snapped in half and plummeted onto the desk…This was a waste of time, and she didn’t appreciate being disturbed for this. However, ARGOS has the final word. Their wish is her command.
Dr. Ramada left her chair, recovering from her brisk moment of uncontrollable rage, and headed for the assimilation chamber. Mitchell, the never-ending oaf, followed like a loyal but annoying little pup. This was the most horrible part, overseeing the initial assimilation process...it was truly disgusting, having to be near all that dirt…yet, it was her duty alone to enter every single specimen into the database and weed out the unworthy among them for disposal. Very intimate, very emotional…very boring.
“Dr. Ramada, I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to anger you, please forgive my impudence.” A slick smile fell on the scientist’s face whilst she walked, engulfed by the echo of her black high-heels clicking on the spotless floors of the facility, quickly skimming the notes on her portable computer slide-screen. Having access to the database, known as the Virtually-enhanced Artificial Intelligence Network…In other words, VAIN, at all times was essential no matter the situation. VAIN had replaced the internet several years before, and safeguarded all the knowledge of the world with little trouble, but only those with high-level clearance could access the mainframe. No riffraff allowed.
“No worries, Mitchell.” She mused, entering a long and narrow hallway…blindingly bright, clean, and white. “How could I stay angry at a complete nincompoop, especially one with such a goofy face?” Mitchell was smart enough at least not to take offence, knowing at any time it was well within her power to rip his oversized head off.
“Very good observation, doctor...” He mumbled, scurrying officiously behind the tawny woman, as they approached the assimilation chamber. At the end of a seemingly never-ending hallway was the preparation station, which aided the program considerable.
The undesirables brought to the facility would first be thoroughly scrubbed down and screened for radiation poisoning. Only a pitiful few were ever in the red, and at which point are properly disposed off. After a good and healthy scrubbing, usually involving a nice hosing, the undesirables are then given a hygienic haircut. Well, not that it was for fashionable purposes. Like sheering a wooly little lamb, the undesirables were shaved bare. The filth of the outlands must not touch the very earth beyond this facility. The city cannot be overrun with savage barbarians, after all. Yes, preparation was indeed a necessary part of the assimilation process.
Dr. Ramada heard a great commotion from beyond the metal doors of the preparation station. Both of them were caught off guard when all of a sudden the metal doors slid open. Steam from the hot showers billowed out into the hallway, from which a raging boy emerged. Half his head shaved, one side long and captivatingly black, the boy ran for his life toward them as three men in rubber yellow radiation suits chased behind. It would have seemed comical if Ramada wasn’t such a germiphobe.
“The child is contaminating this facility!” She roared, hot with mind-numbing rage. Before she knew it the half naked brat bolted right passed them, and Mitchell just stood there like a miserable lump of a man. Not one courageous bone in him. Yet, the child was strange, even for an undesirable. It was his eyes, wild and fierce, that really astonished the scientist. Those pale blue spheres seemed old…even wise, though his body was young and frail. “Catch him!” Her hiss echoed down the hall, nipping the heels of the boy’s feet. He was very fast.
Guards at the other end of the hall heard the raucous and came running, guns out and ready, but were caught by surprise at the sight of the miscreant. However, they weren’t completely useless, unlike Mitchell, and seized the child by the arms just as he tried to dive passed them. Ramada could only shake her head at the disorganization and incompetence that caused this mess. The entire hallway will have to be sterilized now!
“Let go!” The boy growled, deep and vicious, as he pulled and writhed around in the guard’s grip. The creature was utterly savage, as if he grew up in the wilderness…which couldn’t be put passed an undesirable. They were rather uncivilized beings, completely inferior in every respect.
The three rubber idiots stood around, shifting uncomfortably, as the Doctor glared menacingly at them. Fire could have leapt from those eyes! Mitchell decided it was time to assert himself into the situation, after the fact.
“Don’t just stand there counting the tiles, you reckless fools! Clean up this mess!” He ordered, considering the boy for a moment. “Finish preparing the miserable brat, and this time there better not be any mistakes!” Shanti studied the creature and his futile efforts to escape. Damned undesirables were a nasty part of the job, their filth an obscenity against the city! There was no other choice but to deal with them, having been ordered by ARGOS to oversee this program. My skills could be put to better use!
“As soon as you’re finished, ready the children for assimilation.” Ramada ordered, deadly serious. Her eyes were fixed on the boy, who would have clawed everyone if given the chance. His eyes were like paled sapphires, cold yet beautiful in the light. This child would make for an interesting subject. “Starting with that one.”
Disgruntled about looking bad in front of their superiors, the men in the radiation-proof suits dragged the rebellious child back through the metallic doors for further preparation. Ramada and Mitchell both watched until the heavy doors slid shut once more.
“Children…” Ramada said quietly, reflecting upon her own past. “I despise them more than staphylococcus, little monsters that they are. In my opinion, the world would be better off without them.” The Doctor took out a face mask from her white jacket, and put it on for protective measures. Who knew what kind of infectious viruses lay dormant within those filthy outlanders?
“I agree, Madame.” Replied the PSO, obviously nervous beneath her cutting glare. What a festering puss ball. Ramada paid no heed to the lame assistant, and went straight into the assimilation chamber. As in all chambers involved with the Celestia Integration Organization, the facility was built to make one feel small and meaningless. The Assimilation Chamber mostly comprised of vast space, with one wall built completely into the VAIN database, full of blaring blue screens that reached high up to the ceiling. It was here the true intellectual magnificence of VAIN resided. VAIN was alive despite popular belief, an artificial being that watched the city twenty-four-seven, and contained the world’s accumulated knowledge; the last great masterpiece of mankind before civilization as they knew it crumbled into history. VAIN belonged to ARGOS now, and without him the city would be in utter chaos.
At the center of the chamber was a sleek machine, where one could interact with VAIN, which could analyze data among other things. Shanti comfortably sat down at this machine and accessed VAIN’s mainframe. The moment her fingers touched the screen he verified her fingerprints…not that he couldn’t see her anyway.
“Hello Dr. Ramada,” said VAIN in a placid and relaxed voice. “Good morning to you. I detect that recently your body experienced a period of high blood pressure...which for you is not abnormal. Still, is everything to your satisfaction?”
“Oh, VAIN…if you were a man there wouldn’t be a woman alive that could resist your charm!” Dr. Ramada laughed, starting up the assimilator. Lights flickered and switched up ahead, cascading over an intimidating chair with huge flashing panels. Technology had saved the human race… it was science, not silly notions like God, that protected mankind as the world changed and darkened. At this point, there was nothing they couldn’t do. They were the gods now, and could wield unimaginable power with the stroke of their fingertips. VAIN was just one of many extravagant achievements responsible for that.
Mitchell was off to the side talking on his radio, notifying the preparation station that they were ready to receive subjects for analyzation. His black suit shined under the blinding light that filled the chamber, though he still persisted in shielding his face with that ridiculous helmet! Ramada nodded toward him. The assimilator was ready, the database prepped for new entries.
“Bring in the crazy one first…I don’t care if he’s a handful! The sooner he’s dealt with, the better!...Do as you’re told, damn it!” The other voice on the radio was yelling and quite exasperated, the sound of screaming and flying metal objects in the background. My goodness, we haven’t had one this feisty since the very beginning of the program, when things were even less organized than it is now!
Waiting was never something she could stand, especially when there was so much to do in the space of a day! A few minutes went by, and despite being down the hall from them, the dumb preparation staff were still struggling to deliver the boy!
“Unbelievable.” She mumbled under her breath, growing angrier by the minute. VAIN was kind enough to point that out.
“Doctor your blood pressure is rising again…”
“I know!” She snapped, rolling her eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my bodily functions alone for once, thank you!”
“But doctor, high blood pressure is a leading contributor of heart disease…” She could feel the blood flushing to her face all at once.
“VAIN! You know that doesn’t concern me!” After all these years VAIN was just beginning to grasp humor, and nowadays he applied it more often than people liked. At least he wasn’t telling knock-knock jokes.
“Sorry, doctor…If it’s any consolation, I have received news from the Para-Sciences Department that their most recent project has been a success.” Ramada gasped in shock, the fierce bite of envy stinging her thoughts. It just wasn’t fair…discoveries were rolling one after another, at breathtaking speed, but her own research had barely progressed in the course of five years.
“How? They only started a few months ago…don’t tell me it was Project TriFates!” VAIN didn’t realize that she really didn’t mean that, about not wanting to know, so he stayed silent. Seconds went by without an answer.
“Well?” Ramada finally inquired, tapping her long and elegant fingers against the touch-screen. “Was it TriFates or not?” The virtual and man-made being was quick to answer, now that he knew what she wanted. Ugh. Emotions were strange to him after all.
“Yes, Dr. Ramada, it was.”
“How much progress did they make…have they isolated the gene for precog?”
“That, and based on their findings, they estimate that within the year they will be able to manipulate it for more enhanced results. Would you like a copy of their report for further edification, doctor?” She was frozen in amazement. The rebels stood little chance against ARGOS now. Within a couple of years, thanks to Project TriFates, their whereabouts will easily be pinpointed on so much as a well aimed question. Very good. Things were looking better all the time.
“As a matter of fact, I do! Have it sent to my desk, please.” A broad smile crept on her lovely face, which very rarely happened. Ramada was more of a pessimist, one who expected things to go wrong no matter what, and so she did more scowling than anything else…especially when Mitchell had the opportunity to **** things up. Yes, everything really was his fault.
A loud banging noise echoed from the hall, and then a rather powerful scream that could have ruptured someone’s eardrum. Knowing what came next, the good doctor entered the assimilation program from a long list of icons, and drew out the option NEW PROFILE. A hidden compartment unlocked beside her, a shelf that pushed out of the desk, revealing a pair of gloves. Any moron in this day and age could see that these gloves were different than the soft and wooly kind. For instance, these were made of metal and holo-fibers, a new material synthesized for dealing with holograms.
Dr. Ramada was very quick as the shouting became louder and more distinct. The sounds were muffled by the thick walls, but her hearing was impeccably good.
“They will find me, just you wait! You’ll be sorry!” The boy’s idle threats continued…and it sounded like he was kicking against the walls in an attempt to get free.“ There will be no mercy for any of you! Not if you don’t let me go!” Ramada shook her head with a pitiless expression. Not another howler, a child that clearly hasn’t assessed the situation. No one would be coming; there would be no daring rescue. ARGOS was a force that could not be stopped, and these wretched outlanders were in a place of no return. After thinking this to herself cheerfully, Ramada fit the skin-tight gloves over her hands.
The metal facets in the gloves were for trapping and manipulating holograms, the holo-fibers for projecting those images in 3-D. The Doctor’s fingers trapped and consequently activated the assimilator…the enormous chair before her sprang to life, unfolding itself into a comfy looking recliner. Actually, the chair didn’t look that appealing, but the child wouldn’t know any better. He didn’t know what it was used for, and would subsequently forget the whole experience.
Mitchell fidgeted as the chair moved, the flashing panels of light about it creating perceptual chaos. He was a groveling worm, but his presence was necessary, unfortunately. Ramada could feel her blood boil just thinking about his incompetence. Stupid creature.
The thick titanium doors slid back, followed by a stream of people centered around one. Guards, yellow and red-clad prep staff, and even a receptionist entered the chamber, their hands clenching hold of the viciously writhing boy. It was an unforgivable commotion, and it had to stop. Mitchell glanced from her to the snarling child, back to her again. Ramada stood up and pointed at the assimilator with one, long, accusingly sharp finger. Her eyes were cold as steel and as serrated as a blade. Mitchell knew those eyes, and quickly took hold of the situation before things got out of hand.
He grabbed the receptionist by the arm and pushed her out, since this was far from where she should have been, and herded the struggling mass of arms to the assimilator. The noise was like a siren in her ears, forcing her to clench down into a stiff figurine. Ramada was so close to losing control that another few minutes of this would surely spell disaster.
“Get the screwball on the chair, I say!” Mitchell yelled, though his voice barely broke higher than the child’s irate screams. So, he freed the glow-rod from its place at his hip, and shocked the boy on the stomach…the electrical energy in the weapon was enough to kill an adult, let alone a child, but he had it on stun. It worked, and not a moment too soon.
Ramada unclenched her teeth as the child fell limp in the guard’s arms, temporarily paralyzed as two PSO guards put him in the chair. Of course, they nearly knocked into the surgical table beside the assimilator, which held very delicate technical instruments for later use, but at least the noise had lowered somewhat. The prep men were swearing under their breath, completely taken aback by how difficult this one child had been. Mitchell put away the glow-rod once more, satisfied at how the situation turned out. Ramada buried her head into her arms, once seated, feeling almost helpless at what had almost occurred.
The child was never a problem…it was her anger, the seething rage that wanted to be unleashed, and it was something she fought against relentlessly. This facility was far from the place where she belonged. It was so sterile, so emotionless and empty…far from the jungle and the roar of the creatures lurking within it…this memory, a faint image here and a lingering sensation there, was all that remained. Jungles no longer existed, animals were a thing of the past, but one thing that would always exist would be the unquenchable thirst. The lust for the hunt. That, however, was impossible now in this setting. Could you imagine a thing like that? A civilized woman like herself going on the rampage? What bad etiquette.
“VAIN.” She groaned, feeling weak and lightheaded. “Give me the concoction, it's happening again.” Blasted children and their smelliness. Mitchell glanced at her from beneath the black tint of his visor, clearly concerned. Not for her, of course. For them.
“Right away, doctor.” said the utterly pleasant and relaxed voice. The guards knew what that meant, shifting nervously under their weight, as Ramada continued to cover her face. How embarrassing. Losing control like this was starting to become a habit, and an easy one at that. It couldn’t be helped. With one good dose of adrenaline the order of this facility could be turned on its head, and that was a scary thought…especially knowing that the counsel would disapprove, and reprimand her for a simple slip up, even though she worked hard everyday to make them proud. ARGOS was more than a company for Dr. Ramada, they were a sanctuary and a family all rolled in one. Yet, there were rules, responsibilities that she had to assume. Sometimes these rules were burdensome to uphold, increasingly so considering the situation.
VAIN acted quickly as always, another compartment opened…this time beside the surface-screen of the desk. An octagon of needlepoints shot up from the compartment, hidden beneath the shadows of which was a medium vial of plasma. The concoction…life in a bottle…or in this case a shot. Ramada took one look at the glistening needles and without hesitation slammed her wrist down atop it with surprising force. The thump she made caused the men looking on to flinch, cringing at the thought of those long and scary needles.
The doctor gasped as the mixture flew into her veins in an instant, nourishment and satisfaction all in one. She could have orgasmed, it felt so good, but that would have blemished her upstanding reputation. Ramada let out a long sigh, unaware of the trembling meatbags in her presence, as the needles ripped away from her flesh and disappeared once more in the desk. This was convenient compared to how things used to be. However, time changes all things…time refines and transforms aspects of life that one would never have suspected. Still, this did take the fun out of it.
All that was left now was an octagon of bloody pinpricks…she had to look away or oblige in her old savage nature. This was a society of order, after all. Clean and simplistic order. The prep men, wearing their tacky yellow and red protective suites, adorned in plastic mouth guards and clear visors that shielded their entire face, backed away. They didn’t dare stay, same for the PSO guards, but intended to leave as quickly as their feet would let them. The doors snapped shut behind them, leaving only the doctor, the moron, and the incapacitated child. Pathetic, how irritating. Of course, if they had decent reasoning skills, they’d know that she was no longer dangerous. At least, not the sort of danger they were thinking of. The shot nourished the beastly thirst, but sometimes she fantasized about rampaging anyway. The human race had gotten dumber over the years, not that they weren’t dumb to begin with.
