*Continuing from Part 1...*
“It seems your inferiors have forgotten their manners, Mitchell.” Ramada said innocently, her lips curled into a tempting smile. “I want them replaced.” Mitchell folded his arms, determined to stand his ground.
“You know that isn’t possible…we’re stretched too thin as it is.”
“Ah yes,” The beautiful creature breathed, her very appearance a lure for the unsuspecting victim. “the rebels have waned our forces somewhat. I never noticed, but I suppose you would know all about that.”
“Waned? I know you’re busy with your research, Madam, but last week alone our forces lost about a hundred and fifty men…give or take a half.”
“Still cutting people to ribbons, are they?” Ramada mused, on the verge of giggling with intoxication. The concoction always left her somewhat out of character. She smiled more, and that alone was damaging. “How dreadfully barbaric.”
“I’d take that over last month, when that ****ing red-haired bitch blew a hole through the records compound…”
“Ah!” The doctor warned, stopping him cold mid-sentence. “Mind your place, Mitchell. I do not wish to hear your pitiful sniveling…they shall be taken care of soon! The Brotherhood is dead…they just don’t know it yet.” The PSO commander remained silent, fuming beneath his visor, but he stopped complaining nonetheless.
Her attention shifted back to the tiny creature they had acquired. The boy was so small in the chair, his pale eyes glaring at her with a strange light. He witnessed everything, saw how the guards ran for their lives, and yet his face wasn’t shriveled into a petrified grimace. The child, stripped from his family and brought to this terrifying place by force…he was completely serene.
“Let’s get back to business.” She muttered, eyeing the boy with a strange sort of fascination. He’s not afraid, that in itself is alarming…or maybe he’s stupid. Either way, there wasn’t time to observe him as long as she would have liked. Being thorough was not a convenience she could partake of. No, despite her scientifically inclined nature to observe and hypothesize, there were still twenty two other little ingrates to assimilate by the end of the day…which would likely proceed well into the night. Still, if she had her way, tomorrow she could start integration with them all. She was more effective with a larger audience, after all. “Strap him in.”
Mitchell approached the assimilator as instructed. There were grooves in the chair that electronically fit the shape of the subject, and slits for the straps to shoot out…a very high-tech piece of equipment. The boy winced as Mitchell dragged his limp body a little to the right, for a better fit, and shifted his arms and legs so that no accidental injuries would occur…that sometimes happened. Very messy. After he was done moving the child, the PSO commander glanced at Ramada and made a slight nod.
The doctor initiated the restraints of the assimilator, which can only be accessed through VAIN…the straps were just as much apart of the database as the whole procedure was. The virtual chair on the screen before her flashed red a few times, alerting everyone that the restraints were coming out. The metallic straps, flat and amazingly flexible, immediately shot out of their appropriate openings. The boy’s penetrating eyes widened in shock as the metal ribbons made a semi circle around his legs, upper body, and his wrists. Meanwhile, Ramada leaned back in her chair, beginning to relax after the morning’s shenanigans. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. If all went well, she could get back to researching in about five hours or so.
The restraints snapped into place opposite of where they emerged from, parallel and perfectly symmetrical, the only thing left was to give her consent to continue.
“Fit shape,” She half yawned, absolutely bored to tears. Her voice-activated command took little over a second to complete. The boy jumped, having regained some movement since being nullified, as the metal straps flattened against his body and tightened considerably. Usually children screamed in fear at this point, though it wasn’t from any discomfort. The point of assimilation wasn’t to damage the subjects, merely to see if they were fit to integrate into society. Ultimately, these mongrels should be thanking them; the city was a million times better than where they came from. Of course, how could these mindless children understand the vast opportunities that awaited them? The little ungrateful monsters.
The lights dimmed so far that shadows crawled up the walls; a spotlight over the assimilator was the only break in the darkness. Now Ramada was in her element and the dark was ideal for viewing the holo-screen. VAIN projected data in front of her eyes, splashing bright colors out of thin air for all to see, so that the analyzation process could begin. This was the first stage of assimilation, and dealt with screening for radiation poisoning and looking for any damning signs of inferiority. Anything in the red would jump out immediately, in which case the subject would be escorted away for neutralization…this sort of weeding out continued throughout the integration process. Many subjects usually failed out of the original batch. Once, only two of about thirty or so actually made it through integration…things weren’t usually that bad, but you never know.
“Screen subject.” The doctor mildly commanded, careful not to sound authoritative or cruel, this was no time for appearing ruthless. Feigning compassion and gentleness was the best method for talking to these filthy things. Ramada had such a soft and pleasant voice that few children had trouble trusting her from the start. That was probably the reason why ARGOS thought it prudent to stick her with this position, it suited her so well.
Dr. Ramada fixed her eyes on the young boy, forcibly curling her lips into a friendly smile. He stared at her blankly, no emotion to speak of…he merely glared into her with a face of impenetrable stone. Very strange, indeed. Most would already be drenched in tears, sobbing like little lambs at the slaughter. The boy must have realized that there was no hope of escape, and had accepted his fate…yet that couldn’t be it. No…he was expecting to be saved. He was waiting for someone to arrive, a white knight so to speak, that would exact justice on everyone. Ramada was certain the child felt this way; she had a knack for reading people. Their eyes told all.
“Hello, there…” She said sweetly, warmly leaning forward with clasped hands. This was her specialty, giving convincing performances. Despite what the boy had seen or heard earlier, all would be forgotten once her thick and fluid voice sunk into his brain. “My name is Dr. Ramada, you have been brought here today for a very special reason…all we want is to ask you a few questions, that’s all.”
The boy said nothing…but his blank stare turned into a furrowed scowl. Yes, that was normal. She didn’t expect him to adore her just yet; memories of his retrieval were still fresh and likely painful. Like it mattered. Ramada continued to smile, cocking her head slightly as if she were genuinely interested.
“I understand. You must be angry, having been taken from your family and friends after seeing your home destroyed…I assure you, the same happened to me a long time ago.” The boy lifted an eyebrow, obviously not convinced. The doctor nodded, saddening her expression. “It’s true, a long, long, time ago I came here just like you, but once I cooperated my family was allowed to come and live here too…so you see, if you’re a good boy, your loved ones will soon follow…and all of you can live happily ever after, in the city of diamonds, and no one will ever feel hunger or pain ever again…”
“And all the people they killed? Will they live happily ever after too?” It was something so unexpected, especially coming from someone so young…still, Ramada was a master at this. The boy smiled back at her, his eyes mocking and cold. She had to clench her jaw, her mind perplexed and unable to concentrate.
“Yes…it is unfortunate that some died, were any of them friends or relatives of yours?” The boy hesitated, breaking his pale eyes away from her mesmerizing stare. She would corner him now; change the subject on something less damning. “No? Well, please don’t concern yourself then. I ask that you wait patiently as I take a look at your…health. It won’t take long.” Ramada opened a new profile and threw it on the holo-screen. VAIN snatched the boys image from video on the encounter and froze his countenance onto the profile after zooming in on his face. The first of many photos, hopefully.
“Can I ask your name, please?” Ramada inquired, filling out personal information was the first step in the analyzation process, even those neutralized need names and some other things before they faded from existence, everything had to be on record.
“No.” He said, glowering at the strap that secured his right hand. He pulled against it, now that the nullifying power of Mitchell’s glow-rod had completely worn off. Ramada looked passed the holo-screen, since holograms weren’t solid anyway, and pursed her full lips into a flat line. Her eyes flashed viciously at him, on the verge of losing control. There went her friendly image…but it was clear this child would be a hard one to crack. No matter, all things can be broken with a little persuasion.
Turning her frown into wide grin, Ramada let go of her mask and flaunted her true colors, despite policy and all that. The sniveling brat needed firm guidance, and being cheeky just wasn’t going to do it for him.
“Fine, but you aren’t leaving that chair until you do.” She sneered, revealing a perfect set of white teeth beneath her luscious lips. “It really doesn’t matter to me, you know.” She turned to Mitchell, who was silently standing by the huge metal doors of the chamber, awaiting orders like a good little monkey.
“Mitchell! Tell the preppies that they did a poor job the first time…I can smell the boy from here and I thought I was very specific about that! Unless they want a pay cut, have them shower and scrub all the children once more! That should take care of that god awful stench!” The boy’s eyes were like fish bowls, large and glassy. He must have suffered agonizing pain at the prep station to begin with…those showers were hot to the point of scalding, so the thought of condemning all those poor innocents to another round must be burdensome indeed. He looked from Ramada to Mitchell and back, mouth open in horror. Yes, she was definitely the master of manipulation.
Mitchell reached for his radio, about to yell into it, when the boy couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Wait!” He cried, struggling in his bonds. “Don’t!” Good thing this kid had a conscience. She was betting on it, and was right, as usual.
“Well?” The doctor pressed, smiling triumphantly. “I don’t have all day.” The child gave her an indignant glare, a icy river of cold hatred, churning with a silent rage that made her a bit uncomfortable. As brief as that moment of intensity was, he quickly masked it with complete nothingness. No emotion whatsoever.
“Dante.” He said quietly, as if it was nothing. Ramada waited for a last name, but it never came.
“Ok…Mr. Dante, do you know what year it is?” She asked, typing in his name while awaiting an answer. Most undesirables couldn’t think clearly enough to string together two sentences, like mindless barbarians they existence mainly revolved around finding food and frequent mating. However, those sort were usually heavily radioactive and consequently affected by mutation. This boy, Dante, appeared to be one of the lucky ones…but only analyzing his tissue and blood would make that official. He answered her question without hesitation, which made him above the grade after all.
“2610 AD,” He replied flatly, staring wearily at the new pair of rubber Slipums on his feet…all their old clothes had been burned, and each were given a thin white shirt, matching pants, and a sterile pair of rubber shoes that were popular among children in Celestia. Right now orange slipums were the highest in demand, advertised as acid orange, but there was also radioactive yellow, rancid green, splatter red, poisonous pink, perforating purple and bruised blue…slipums for a slippery world…Ramada was an advertising sponge. Don’t let her get started on Kerplunk! Celestia had a fascinating culture to say the least, less prone to inhibition, and happier too in their ignorant bliss.
“Very good. How old do you suppose you are…I doubt you know the exact day.” Ramada studied the boy, wondering if he was truly that smart…that or his parents were exceptionally gifted.
He struggled with the answer to that one, looking utterly helpless as he mulled it over, but he didn’t take long.
“I…I should be eight.” He said, voice wavering.
“Well, today, thanks to the wonders of technology, you will know your birthday for the first time in your short and miserable life.” Ramada ignored the growl that emitted from the tiny boy…he wasn’t that intimidating. “Alright, one more question…and this one is quite important…You hailed from that enclave in the stadium, right? Do you know of any other enclaves? It doesn’t matter if they're near or far. Answer this and maybe…”
“No.” He interrupted, matter-of-factly, baring a wintry glare.
“Very well, no more talking.” Ramada said curtly, relieved at least that the interrogating process was over. It was her least favorite part of this whole thing, and the rest was just playing with the assimilator. “Begin screening.”
From that command VAIN opened a plethora of options, sending waves upon waves of data flying at her, all of which she had to catch and throw up onto the holo-screen. Meanwhile, little robotic arms delved out of the assimilator and applied little suction cups to Dante’s head, meant for virtually mapping his brain as well as recording his brainwaves. He shivered as the arms painted a cold jelly on his bare head, for lubricating purposes, before sticking the little devices on. They suctioned on tight enough, not that he could do anything to knock them off. As the brain scanners uploaded a digital 3D image of his noggin, Dante suddenly jerked with a sharp cry…yes, there went the tissue sample, like clockwork as usual.
“Well, what about the radiation screening and the full body mapping?” She just liked bossing VAIN around; who was, by the way, the only subordinate that clung to her every word as if it were divine law.
“Commencing now, doctor.” he said cheerfully.
“Oh, and don’t forget racial tracking either, you know that’s something I look forward to.”
“As I said, commencing.” VAIN repeated, his mood slightly darker. Technology truly was glorious, where would the world be without moody machines of intellectually independent thought? Dante looked slightly noxious, as if he wanted to hurl, but there was nothing in his body to hurl to begin with. It was the sight of his own blood, the dark crimson substance leaking from the wound on his wrist. The smell of it sent Ramada’s head spinning…her sense of smell was rather elevated higher than the norm. As if the smell of him weren’t bad enough! She could feel pure instinct starting to take hold, that beastly creature that was never satisfied.
“VAIN!” She yelled, pinching her nose.
“Right away, doctor.” he happily replied, nothing could ever faze that hunk of junk. Dante could have leapt to the ceiling, his face wrinkled in torment, as a sweetly pungent odor masked the horrible stench of his blood. Burning flesh. His wound was being cauterized by a surgical laser, and after about five seconds of red-faced silence the child let out an agonizing scream that rocketed through the chamber.
“Doctor…” Was all VAIN could say before his voice distorted and flickered in and out. The holo-screen displaying Dante’s status totally malfunctioned, temporally blinding her with a bright flash and the white nothingness of a crash.
“NOOO!” She yelled, knowing she’d get blamed for this…unless the rebels were behind it. They’re hatred for VAIN was no secret, but were they in the midst of an attack? Dante continued to moan, unconscious by the shear pain of what he suffered, head lulling side to side. Lasers aren’t that bad compared to some other experiments…but that's totally off subject.
“VAIN?” Ramada called, half expecting those sword-wielding, grenade-throwing savages to burst through into the chamber at any second. If so, she’d be ready for them! Dr. Shanti Ramada did not ascend through the ranks of ARGOS by intellect alone. No, there were corporate standards for that sort of progress, and it wasn’t based on communication.
“What the hell is going on?” Mitchell shouted into his radio, blindly wandering around in the dark. “What? What do you mean there was a short. This is ****ing VAIN we’re talking about!”
“A short?” Ramada repeated to herself. “Hmm. That’s never happened before.” VAIN was approaching his four hundredth and twentieth year in existence. Considering the life of most computers of yore, that was damned good. ARGOS made the habit of constantly uploading updates and virus protection for their tool of mass manipulation and control. VAIN is their baby in a sense, and any damage to their pride and joy was viewed as unforgivable. Ramada felt nervous for once, and that emotion hadn’t occurred to her for a very, VERY, long time.
“Wait…are you sure? Self reparable? Back up generators?…well you better hope your ass it does! Damn!” Mitchell swore, stomping his foot like an angry bull.
“What is it?” She asked stiffly.
“It’s nothing to worry about, Madame. Maintenance says the problem should fix itself in…” Everything came back to life, surprising them both at once. Ramada gasped as the holo-screen burst back into existence, blinding her temporarily as bright colors flooded her vision. The spotlight over the assimilator returned, lighting up a pair of pale blue eyes…piercingly sharp.
Dante was conscious again, calm, but clearly beside himself with anger. It wasn’t enough that he had to be poked and prodded, but obviously the laser had been the last straw. VAIN returned, though not quite the same jovial entity. He was rattled like everyone else.
“VAIN, show yourself please.” Ramada ordered. Seeing and hearing VAIN are two different things. His image would reflect his state of mind. Immediately a hologram shot into existence, flickering and distorted at first, but eventually took the form of a man. He looked young, in his late twenties, with messy brown hair and a pair of nerdy glasses. VAIN’s smile was just as goofy, lopsided but sincere, as he waved at Ramada in greeting. His image was definitely that of his creator…a Mr. Algernon Avery Barker…that nerdy exterior forever eternalized in his master creation. However, Mr. Barker probably didn’t make a habit of wearing his underwear on his head…which VAIN simulated as being disorganized.
“VAIN…you look…atrocious.” She breathed, unable to catch her voice. Where was the snappy suit? The finely cropped haircut? And VAIN had stopped simulating glasses years ago…he was utterly messed up.
“Oh, thank you.” He replied, completely unaware that of how unprofessional he looked, more akin to an uncivilized psychopath fit for an institute. Instead he was wearing a clutter of simulations, ragged, disorderly, unkept…she had never seen anything like it. However, the absolute worst was the pair of briefs on his head, not to mention the glasses…it appeared as if he was confused, and couldn’t decide on anything.
“Tell me, have you been hacked?!” Ramada demanded, gushing with anger. There's one specific person that could manage this without warning, and she was a wanted criminal, preferably brought in dead. Yet, to tamper with VAIN was an instant death warrant, hackers knew better after that demonstration with the firing squad years ago. Shot to a pulp, and that was the end of the hacking epidemic. Everything certainly can be fixed with violence, anyone who says different is surely a duffer!
VAIN looked at her strangely, swaying back and forth as if he was hallucinating or suffering from delusions.
“Oh…I don’t think so…”
“What happened then?”
“I don’t know…my brain hurts.” Dante looked at them smugly, just watching them intently. He was starting to aggravate Ramada for some reason she couldn’t ascertain. Everything worked out so conveniently for the little brat, but not for long.
“Whatever, just focus whatever excess power you have into finishing up here, and then we’ll take the day off to see what’s wrong with you. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I think so.” VAIN replied, his voice changing pitch until he ended like a soprano. This is bad. His image vanished, but their troubles didn’t end there. The once fluid river of data on the holo-screen now inched by at a snail’s pace. Finishing up would most likely cause VAIN to crash, and this time with more devastating effects.
“Listen to me carefully, I want you to screen for radiation, and that alone. Terminate all other simultaneous procedures besides that, discard the tissue sample…we can always get a fresh one later.” Dante winced as she said that, much to her satisfaction.
“It seems your inferiors have forgotten their manners, Mitchell.” Ramada said innocently, her lips curled into a tempting smile. “I want them replaced.” Mitchell folded his arms, determined to stand his ground.
“You know that isn’t possible…we’re stretched too thin as it is.”
“Ah yes,” The beautiful creature breathed, her very appearance a lure for the unsuspecting victim. “the rebels have waned our forces somewhat. I never noticed, but I suppose you would know all about that.”
“Waned? I know you’re busy with your research, Madam, but last week alone our forces lost about a hundred and fifty men…give or take a half.”
“Still cutting people to ribbons, are they?” Ramada mused, on the verge of giggling with intoxication. The concoction always left her somewhat out of character. She smiled more, and that alone was damaging. “How dreadfully barbaric.”
“I’d take that over last month, when that ****ing red-haired bitch blew a hole through the records compound…”
“Ah!” The doctor warned, stopping him cold mid-sentence. “Mind your place, Mitchell. I do not wish to hear your pitiful sniveling…they shall be taken care of soon! The Brotherhood is dead…they just don’t know it yet.” The PSO commander remained silent, fuming beneath his visor, but he stopped complaining nonetheless.
Her attention shifted back to the tiny creature they had acquired. The boy was so small in the chair, his pale eyes glaring at her with a strange light. He witnessed everything, saw how the guards ran for their lives, and yet his face wasn’t shriveled into a petrified grimace. The child, stripped from his family and brought to this terrifying place by force…he was completely serene.
“Let’s get back to business.” She muttered, eyeing the boy with a strange sort of fascination. He’s not afraid, that in itself is alarming…or maybe he’s stupid. Either way, there wasn’t time to observe him as long as she would have liked. Being thorough was not a convenience she could partake of. No, despite her scientifically inclined nature to observe and hypothesize, there were still twenty two other little ingrates to assimilate by the end of the day…which would likely proceed well into the night. Still, if she had her way, tomorrow she could start integration with them all. She was more effective with a larger audience, after all. “Strap him in.”
Mitchell approached the assimilator as instructed. There were grooves in the chair that electronically fit the shape of the subject, and slits for the straps to shoot out…a very high-tech piece of equipment. The boy winced as Mitchell dragged his limp body a little to the right, for a better fit, and shifted his arms and legs so that no accidental injuries would occur…that sometimes happened. Very messy. After he was done moving the child, the PSO commander glanced at Ramada and made a slight nod.
The doctor initiated the restraints of the assimilator, which can only be accessed through VAIN…the straps were just as much apart of the database as the whole procedure was. The virtual chair on the screen before her flashed red a few times, alerting everyone that the restraints were coming out. The metallic straps, flat and amazingly flexible, immediately shot out of their appropriate openings. The boy’s penetrating eyes widened in shock as the metal ribbons made a semi circle around his legs, upper body, and his wrists. Meanwhile, Ramada leaned back in her chair, beginning to relax after the morning’s shenanigans. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. If all went well, she could get back to researching in about five hours or so.
The restraints snapped into place opposite of where they emerged from, parallel and perfectly symmetrical, the only thing left was to give her consent to continue.
“Fit shape,” She half yawned, absolutely bored to tears. Her voice-activated command took little over a second to complete. The boy jumped, having regained some movement since being nullified, as the metal straps flattened against his body and tightened considerably. Usually children screamed in fear at this point, though it wasn’t from any discomfort. The point of assimilation wasn’t to damage the subjects, merely to see if they were fit to integrate into society. Ultimately, these mongrels should be thanking them; the city was a million times better than where they came from. Of course, how could these mindless children understand the vast opportunities that awaited them? The little ungrateful monsters.
The lights dimmed so far that shadows crawled up the walls; a spotlight over the assimilator was the only break in the darkness. Now Ramada was in her element and the dark was ideal for viewing the holo-screen. VAIN projected data in front of her eyes, splashing bright colors out of thin air for all to see, so that the analyzation process could begin. This was the first stage of assimilation, and dealt with screening for radiation poisoning and looking for any damning signs of inferiority. Anything in the red would jump out immediately, in which case the subject would be escorted away for neutralization…this sort of weeding out continued throughout the integration process. Many subjects usually failed out of the original batch. Once, only two of about thirty or so actually made it through integration…things weren’t usually that bad, but you never know.
“Screen subject.” The doctor mildly commanded, careful not to sound authoritative or cruel, this was no time for appearing ruthless. Feigning compassion and gentleness was the best method for talking to these filthy things. Ramada had such a soft and pleasant voice that few children had trouble trusting her from the start. That was probably the reason why ARGOS thought it prudent to stick her with this position, it suited her so well.
Dr. Ramada fixed her eyes on the young boy, forcibly curling her lips into a friendly smile. He stared at her blankly, no emotion to speak of…he merely glared into her with a face of impenetrable stone. Very strange, indeed. Most would already be drenched in tears, sobbing like little lambs at the slaughter. The boy must have realized that there was no hope of escape, and had accepted his fate…yet that couldn’t be it. No…he was expecting to be saved. He was waiting for someone to arrive, a white knight so to speak, that would exact justice on everyone. Ramada was certain the child felt this way; she had a knack for reading people. Their eyes told all.
“Hello, there…” She said sweetly, warmly leaning forward with clasped hands. This was her specialty, giving convincing performances. Despite what the boy had seen or heard earlier, all would be forgotten once her thick and fluid voice sunk into his brain. “My name is Dr. Ramada, you have been brought here today for a very special reason…all we want is to ask you a few questions, that’s all.”
The boy said nothing…but his blank stare turned into a furrowed scowl. Yes, that was normal. She didn’t expect him to adore her just yet; memories of his retrieval were still fresh and likely painful. Like it mattered. Ramada continued to smile, cocking her head slightly as if she were genuinely interested.
“I understand. You must be angry, having been taken from your family and friends after seeing your home destroyed…I assure you, the same happened to me a long time ago.” The boy lifted an eyebrow, obviously not convinced. The doctor nodded, saddening her expression. “It’s true, a long, long, time ago I came here just like you, but once I cooperated my family was allowed to come and live here too…so you see, if you’re a good boy, your loved ones will soon follow…and all of you can live happily ever after, in the city of diamonds, and no one will ever feel hunger or pain ever again…”
“And all the people they killed? Will they live happily ever after too?” It was something so unexpected, especially coming from someone so young…still, Ramada was a master at this. The boy smiled back at her, his eyes mocking and cold. She had to clench her jaw, her mind perplexed and unable to concentrate.
“Yes…it is unfortunate that some died, were any of them friends or relatives of yours?” The boy hesitated, breaking his pale eyes away from her mesmerizing stare. She would corner him now; change the subject on something less damning. “No? Well, please don’t concern yourself then. I ask that you wait patiently as I take a look at your…health. It won’t take long.” Ramada opened a new profile and threw it on the holo-screen. VAIN snatched the boys image from video on the encounter and froze his countenance onto the profile after zooming in on his face. The first of many photos, hopefully.
“Can I ask your name, please?” Ramada inquired, filling out personal information was the first step in the analyzation process, even those neutralized need names and some other things before they faded from existence, everything had to be on record.
“No.” He said, glowering at the strap that secured his right hand. He pulled against it, now that the nullifying power of Mitchell’s glow-rod had completely worn off. Ramada looked passed the holo-screen, since holograms weren’t solid anyway, and pursed her full lips into a flat line. Her eyes flashed viciously at him, on the verge of losing control. There went her friendly image…but it was clear this child would be a hard one to crack. No matter, all things can be broken with a little persuasion.
Turning her frown into wide grin, Ramada let go of her mask and flaunted her true colors, despite policy and all that. The sniveling brat needed firm guidance, and being cheeky just wasn’t going to do it for him.
“Fine, but you aren’t leaving that chair until you do.” She sneered, revealing a perfect set of white teeth beneath her luscious lips. “It really doesn’t matter to me, you know.” She turned to Mitchell, who was silently standing by the huge metal doors of the chamber, awaiting orders like a good little monkey.
“Mitchell! Tell the preppies that they did a poor job the first time…I can smell the boy from here and I thought I was very specific about that! Unless they want a pay cut, have them shower and scrub all the children once more! That should take care of that god awful stench!” The boy’s eyes were like fish bowls, large and glassy. He must have suffered agonizing pain at the prep station to begin with…those showers were hot to the point of scalding, so the thought of condemning all those poor innocents to another round must be burdensome indeed. He looked from Ramada to Mitchell and back, mouth open in horror. Yes, she was definitely the master of manipulation.
Mitchell reached for his radio, about to yell into it, when the boy couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Wait!” He cried, struggling in his bonds. “Don’t!” Good thing this kid had a conscience. She was betting on it, and was right, as usual.
“Well?” The doctor pressed, smiling triumphantly. “I don’t have all day.” The child gave her an indignant glare, a icy river of cold hatred, churning with a silent rage that made her a bit uncomfortable. As brief as that moment of intensity was, he quickly masked it with complete nothingness. No emotion whatsoever.
“Dante.” He said quietly, as if it was nothing. Ramada waited for a last name, but it never came.
“Ok…Mr. Dante, do you know what year it is?” She asked, typing in his name while awaiting an answer. Most undesirables couldn’t think clearly enough to string together two sentences, like mindless barbarians they existence mainly revolved around finding food and frequent mating. However, those sort were usually heavily radioactive and consequently affected by mutation. This boy, Dante, appeared to be one of the lucky ones…but only analyzing his tissue and blood would make that official. He answered her question without hesitation, which made him above the grade after all.
“2610 AD,” He replied flatly, staring wearily at the new pair of rubber Slipums on his feet…all their old clothes had been burned, and each were given a thin white shirt, matching pants, and a sterile pair of rubber shoes that were popular among children in Celestia. Right now orange slipums were the highest in demand, advertised as acid orange, but there was also radioactive yellow, rancid green, splatter red, poisonous pink, perforating purple and bruised blue…slipums for a slippery world…Ramada was an advertising sponge. Don’t let her get started on Kerplunk! Celestia had a fascinating culture to say the least, less prone to inhibition, and happier too in their ignorant bliss.
“Very good. How old do you suppose you are…I doubt you know the exact day.” Ramada studied the boy, wondering if he was truly that smart…that or his parents were exceptionally gifted.
He struggled with the answer to that one, looking utterly helpless as he mulled it over, but he didn’t take long.
“I…I should be eight.” He said, voice wavering.
“Well, today, thanks to the wonders of technology, you will know your birthday for the first time in your short and miserable life.” Ramada ignored the growl that emitted from the tiny boy…he wasn’t that intimidating. “Alright, one more question…and this one is quite important…You hailed from that enclave in the stadium, right? Do you know of any other enclaves? It doesn’t matter if they're near or far. Answer this and maybe…”
“No.” He interrupted, matter-of-factly, baring a wintry glare.
“Very well, no more talking.” Ramada said curtly, relieved at least that the interrogating process was over. It was her least favorite part of this whole thing, and the rest was just playing with the assimilator. “Begin screening.”
From that command VAIN opened a plethora of options, sending waves upon waves of data flying at her, all of which she had to catch and throw up onto the holo-screen. Meanwhile, little robotic arms delved out of the assimilator and applied little suction cups to Dante’s head, meant for virtually mapping his brain as well as recording his brainwaves. He shivered as the arms painted a cold jelly on his bare head, for lubricating purposes, before sticking the little devices on. They suctioned on tight enough, not that he could do anything to knock them off. As the brain scanners uploaded a digital 3D image of his noggin, Dante suddenly jerked with a sharp cry…yes, there went the tissue sample, like clockwork as usual.
“Well, what about the radiation screening and the full body mapping?” She just liked bossing VAIN around; who was, by the way, the only subordinate that clung to her every word as if it were divine law.
“Commencing now, doctor.” he said cheerfully.
“Oh, and don’t forget racial tracking either, you know that’s something I look forward to.”
“As I said, commencing.” VAIN repeated, his mood slightly darker. Technology truly was glorious, where would the world be without moody machines of intellectually independent thought? Dante looked slightly noxious, as if he wanted to hurl, but there was nothing in his body to hurl to begin with. It was the sight of his own blood, the dark crimson substance leaking from the wound on his wrist. The smell of it sent Ramada’s head spinning…her sense of smell was rather elevated higher than the norm. As if the smell of him weren’t bad enough! She could feel pure instinct starting to take hold, that beastly creature that was never satisfied.
“VAIN!” She yelled, pinching her nose.
“Right away, doctor.” he happily replied, nothing could ever faze that hunk of junk. Dante could have leapt to the ceiling, his face wrinkled in torment, as a sweetly pungent odor masked the horrible stench of his blood. Burning flesh. His wound was being cauterized by a surgical laser, and after about five seconds of red-faced silence the child let out an agonizing scream that rocketed through the chamber.
“Doctor…” Was all VAIN could say before his voice distorted and flickered in and out. The holo-screen displaying Dante’s status totally malfunctioned, temporally blinding her with a bright flash and the white nothingness of a crash.
“NOOO!” She yelled, knowing she’d get blamed for this…unless the rebels were behind it. They’re hatred for VAIN was no secret, but were they in the midst of an attack? Dante continued to moan, unconscious by the shear pain of what he suffered, head lulling side to side. Lasers aren’t that bad compared to some other experiments…but that's totally off subject.
“VAIN?” Ramada called, half expecting those sword-wielding, grenade-throwing savages to burst through into the chamber at any second. If so, she’d be ready for them! Dr. Shanti Ramada did not ascend through the ranks of ARGOS by intellect alone. No, there were corporate standards for that sort of progress, and it wasn’t based on communication.
“What the hell is going on?” Mitchell shouted into his radio, blindly wandering around in the dark. “What? What do you mean there was a short. This is ****ing VAIN we’re talking about!”
“A short?” Ramada repeated to herself. “Hmm. That’s never happened before.” VAIN was approaching his four hundredth and twentieth year in existence. Considering the life of most computers of yore, that was damned good. ARGOS made the habit of constantly uploading updates and virus protection for their tool of mass manipulation and control. VAIN is their baby in a sense, and any damage to their pride and joy was viewed as unforgivable. Ramada felt nervous for once, and that emotion hadn’t occurred to her for a very, VERY, long time.
“Wait…are you sure? Self reparable? Back up generators?…well you better hope your ass it does! Damn!” Mitchell swore, stomping his foot like an angry bull.
“What is it?” She asked stiffly.
“It’s nothing to worry about, Madame. Maintenance says the problem should fix itself in…” Everything came back to life, surprising them both at once. Ramada gasped as the holo-screen burst back into existence, blinding her temporarily as bright colors flooded her vision. The spotlight over the assimilator returned, lighting up a pair of pale blue eyes…piercingly sharp.
Dante was conscious again, calm, but clearly beside himself with anger. It wasn’t enough that he had to be poked and prodded, but obviously the laser had been the last straw. VAIN returned, though not quite the same jovial entity. He was rattled like everyone else.
“VAIN, show yourself please.” Ramada ordered. Seeing and hearing VAIN are two different things. His image would reflect his state of mind. Immediately a hologram shot into existence, flickering and distorted at first, but eventually took the form of a man. He looked young, in his late twenties, with messy brown hair and a pair of nerdy glasses. VAIN’s smile was just as goofy, lopsided but sincere, as he waved at Ramada in greeting. His image was definitely that of his creator…a Mr. Algernon Avery Barker…that nerdy exterior forever eternalized in his master creation. However, Mr. Barker probably didn’t make a habit of wearing his underwear on his head…which VAIN simulated as being disorganized.
“VAIN…you look…atrocious.” She breathed, unable to catch her voice. Where was the snappy suit? The finely cropped haircut? And VAIN had stopped simulating glasses years ago…he was utterly messed up.
“Oh, thank you.” He replied, completely unaware that of how unprofessional he looked, more akin to an uncivilized psychopath fit for an institute. Instead he was wearing a clutter of simulations, ragged, disorderly, unkept…she had never seen anything like it. However, the absolute worst was the pair of briefs on his head, not to mention the glasses…it appeared as if he was confused, and couldn’t decide on anything.
“Tell me, have you been hacked?!” Ramada demanded, gushing with anger. There's one specific person that could manage this without warning, and she was a wanted criminal, preferably brought in dead. Yet, to tamper with VAIN was an instant death warrant, hackers knew better after that demonstration with the firing squad years ago. Shot to a pulp, and that was the end of the hacking epidemic. Everything certainly can be fixed with violence, anyone who says different is surely a duffer!
VAIN looked at her strangely, swaying back and forth as if he was hallucinating or suffering from delusions.
“Oh…I don’t think so…”
“What happened then?”
“I don’t know…my brain hurts.” Dante looked at them smugly, just watching them intently. He was starting to aggravate Ramada for some reason she couldn’t ascertain. Everything worked out so conveniently for the little brat, but not for long.
“Whatever, just focus whatever excess power you have into finishing up here, and then we’ll take the day off to see what’s wrong with you. Can you do that?”
“Yes, I think so.” VAIN replied, his voice changing pitch until he ended like a soprano. This is bad. His image vanished, but their troubles didn’t end there. The once fluid river of data on the holo-screen now inched by at a snail’s pace. Finishing up would most likely cause VAIN to crash, and this time with more devastating effects.
“Listen to me carefully, I want you to screen for radiation, and that alone. Terminate all other simultaneous procedures besides that, discard the tissue sample…we can always get a fresh one later.” Dante winced as she said that, much to her satisfaction.
