Part 1

Thomas stared blankly at his reflection in the murky pool of rainwater at his feet. His pale, angular face stared up at him, distorted slightly by the raindrops that were still coming down in a steady torrent. “A damned shame…” he muttered, though no-one could hear him. The sound of a wailing car horn in the distance pulled him from his narcissistic trance. He started walking again, heading towards the nightclub at the end of the street. The sickly blue glare of the neon sign had an alienating effect on the front of the ancient-looking building. W nd rla d. The double doors that served as the main entrance were surrounded by a mural representing the frame of a large nineteenth-century mirror. The insides of the club were blocked from view by filthy, metallic-looking curtains. “Step through the looking glass” – even the dark-red graffiti someone had added beside the doors was a bad joke, like everything else that made up the outside of the club.

Finally Thomas had made it inside. As he expected, the place was infested with the strange type of twisted goth/mosher hybrid that filled the streets and crack dens around it. As he passed a grimy mirror on his way to the booth where his would-be employer would meet him, he realized in horror that the hardships of the past few months had twisted his once healthy body and handsome face into something that would have very little trouble to fit in here. They were right. The Dreamweb consumes you. Psychosomatic heroin they called it. For the first time since he plugged in, Thomas realized that they were right.

As Thomas trudged along the booths to find the one he was looking for, the music blaring from the speakers lining the walls seemed to grind into the base of his skull. “You and me… we will be… part of the autumn harmony…”. Finally he reached the second booth from the end of the row. A smell of freshly mown grass, something he hadn’t smelt in years, caught his attention. Then he noticed someone else was sitting across of him. He guessed it was his would-be employer. He let his weary eyes pass over her several times, realizing just how completely out of place she looked. Although by looks he wouldn’t put her a day past fifteen, she seemed to exude a confidence that only the strongest of minds can produce. Her face was vaguely oriental, although the makeup she was wearing made it seem like it was carved out of the purest of ivory. Scarlet lips, dreamy eyes staring into a nonexistent distance, dark hair tied together at the back of her head, clothes that seemed to be made out of a delicate mix of silks… one thing was very clear, she didn’t belong here. Then, she finally began to speak to him. Thomas realized that he had been staring at her for at least two minutes, and he quickly tore his eyes away from her.

“Good evening mister Gaelen, I see you have found my message…”

“Obviously… is there any reason you wanted to meet me here? I’ve got an office, and I don’t usually respond to notes left in my pocket…”

“I am aware of that. However, current circumstances prevent me from contacting you directly.”

Thomas wanted to ask what those “current circumstances” involved, but he knew his employers preferred it if he saved his curiosity for whatever they would pay him to investigate. He leaned back against the worn plush pillows that lined the bench and waited for the woman to continue.

“I have been told that you are a familiar face in the Dreamweb of this city.”

There was little surprise in that. While his work still involved the outside world, he spent every moment he wasn’t making money suspended in a comatose state, his mind tangled up inside the Web. To say he was a regular there was an understatement.

“You’ve been told correctly then, but I don’t see how that would involve the employment you mentioned in your message…”

“That is of little importance. What matters is that you are familiar with both the system and simple investigation. This makes you suited for our… my purposes.”

Our purposes? Thomas pondered the woman’s lapsus linguae briefly but decided not to pursue it. What made him more curious was how his occupation of private eye and his life on the Web would be of use. Still, a job was a job so he decided to hear her out.

“If you choose to accept my assignment, you will receive, besides the usual financial compensation, this…”

The woman slid a slim hand into the purse she was carrying, and for half a second Thomas expected it to come out holding some sort of weapon. However, when it emerged again the slender fingers were holding a vial of a clear, crimson liquid. Thomas couldn’t help but gape.

“Ichor…”

“Correct. If you accept our assignment, it will be yours to use. It is not, however, intended to be used for your pleasure. It is to aid your work. You will need it.”

Thomas finally shut his mouth again, his mind reeling at the value of the contents of the vial. Ichor was what turned the crude sensations of Dreaming into a truly blissful state of suspense, and therefore invaluable to any Dreamer. At this purity, it was worth thousands of dollars, and he wondered why the woman would trust him with it. He could just sell it to the first dealer, it would easily buy him an extended vacation on some tropical island… Still, his work ethic dictated that he’d hear her out. Luckily she was smart enough to remove the vial from the table before continuing.

“I am glad I have your full attention. Please listen carefully.” The woman’s voice suddenly dropped considerably in volume, and Thomas had to lean forward to hear her over the music. “It has come to my attention that as of late, there have been a series of mysterious murderers. Dreamers plucked from the Web, their bodies left brain-dead.”

Thomas had heard the rumours, but he had discarded them as blind panic spread by the whiney cyberpunks that roamed the lower tiers of the Web. Some claimed they saw men in white jumpsuits clearing away the bodies. Thomas had always blamed it on the impact the Dreamweb had on one’s imagination. The lower tiers were a playground for conspiracy nuts of all shapes and sizes anyway. However, the vial of ichor in the woman’s purse meant it would definitely pay to hear her out.

“Two Dreamers I have an interest in recently suffered this fate, which is the reason I have come to you. I am paying you money and ichor to track down their minds. Others in my employment are already working on reclaiming their bodies. We expect them ready to be reunited in a week. If you choose to work for me, you have until then to locate your target.”

Thomas couldn’t believe what she told him. Roaming the Dreamweb for money and free, high-quality ichor to boot? There had to be more to this assignment than this strange woman was letting on. Besides, who ever heard of a private eye working on the Dreamweb? Still…

“Suppose I would take the assignment, what sort of payment could I expect? What you’re asking of me is highly unconventional, and frankly, I can make absolutely no promises as to whether I’ll succeed or not.”

“I am aware of both your points. However, research has shown the chance that you will succeed is sixty-three percent. It is far below the desired level, but it will have to suffice. Please decide now, I have other business to attend tonight. The payment will be three hundred dollars, half now, half when the lost minds have been delivered to me.”

Decide now… Thomas’ mind chewed on the possibilities. He could either politely decline, return to his apartment, plug in, and use up the last of the ichor he had left. The other option was to take the woman’s offer, and then either run off with the money he’d fetch for the ichor she was offering or actually attempt to fulfil the given assignment. The second option seemed best at first, but he realised that if the woman could afford to casually throw around vials of such high quality, she could also afford to have every bone in his body broken if he tried to double-cross her. It wasn’t worth the risk. He thought about it for a few more minutes, but in the end he managed to make up his mind faster than he had expected.

“I will do it, but once again, I’m not making any promises.”

“That will not be necessary. This data disc contains all the information you will need, including how to contact me once your assignment has been fulfilled. And your payment, of course…”

The woman reached into her purse again. She handed Thomas the vial and the disc, both of which he quickly slipped into one of the deeper pockets of his long, woollen coat. Then she reached for the money, pulling out three notes that, to Thomas’ surprise, appeared to be completely new. This raised even more suspicion. New notes were for rich types, the kind of people that wouldn’t be caught dead in this part of town. Still, there was no going back now, so he quickly pocketed the money and got up to leave, telling the woman that he’d contact her once the assignment had been completed. As he stepped out of the booth, he realized that he didn’t even know the woman’s name yet, so he stepped back to ask her.

“I do not see how this is relevant, but if you must address me, Tetra will do.”

Tetra… four? Thomas shrugged and left the booth. Once he stepped outside the spell of Tetra’s presence had been broken, and he was slammed face-first into the cesspool that club Wonderland was. “Daddy where are you now? Forgot about your vow?” The music blared on, and a sudden wave of nausea struck him. He hurried to get outside, and once he had made his way into the first alley in sight, he fell to his hands and knees. With a sickly splattering sound, the remains of his meagre meal forcefully exited his body. Still trembling slightly he got up again, steadying himself against the greasy wall as he shakily wiped off his mouth. The feeling of the vial of pure ichor pressed against his ribs made it all seem unimportant though, as it would ease the pain once he made it back to his apartment, where he could send his mind into the Web, cut off from the rest of the world by the comforting walls and boarded-up of his home. Once his body stopped shaking he started walking, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the sudden nausea he had experienced somehow had more to do with being in contact with Tetra and less with the fact that for the past few weeks he had been jacked in far too often and far too long.

Back to top

For some time, Tetra stared blankly at the inhabitants of club Wonderland. Nobody paid her any attention in return, but this suited her just fine. The music was an odd sensation, there was something about it that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Still, it made her decide to wait for the signal to return inside the club in stead of out on the streets as was expected of her. When asked, she told herself, she would just tell her superiors that she couldn’t leave the club without drawing unneeded attention to herself, something they had been very specific about during her briefing.

Finally Tetra heard a series of soft beeps, barely audible over the sounds of her surroundings. She pulled the phone out of her purse and read the message that consisted of only one word. “Return.” She got up and made her way to the exit, casting one last glance at the strange kind of people around her. She’d never understand how they could neglect their bodies and minds like that, and she realized Thomas Gaelen, the man she had met here two hours ago, was just like them, although he’d never openly admit it. Part of her wondered why he was chosen, but she new better than to question her superiors. When she stepped into the cold night air, she saw that the car that would take her back was already waiting for her. Without saying so much as a word to the driver she sat down on the backseat. As she closed the door the last distant echoes of the music playing inside the club faded out, and for some reason completely unknown to her she couldn’t help but shiver a little. Silently the car glided through the streets, going completely unnoticed by the lost souls wandering the sidewalks. She closed her eyes and shut down the higher functions of her mind, reducing her to a sleep-like state.

Two hours later a chiming note coming from the car’s speakers woke Tetra up again, and she quickly left the vehicle, ignoring the stiffness in her limbs. As she opened the door, she was briefly blinded by the bright glare of the white, sterile surroundings of the building, but her eyes only needed half a second to compensate. She left the garage and walked down the hall until she reached a door, made of the same blindingly white, ceramic panels that made up the wall. Only the thin seams on all four sides and the glass panel besides it gave away it’s presence. She pressed her hand against it’s cool surface, and for some reason her body shivered again. She made a mental note to report this malfunction after her debriefing. To her knowledge, her body was not supposed to shiver. A thin beam of red light traced the palm of her hand, and the door besides it swung silently inward. She stepped through and sat down on the chair inside, waiting for what was to come.

“You have returned.”

The voice Tetra heard echoed through the room, although there was no visible source. This didn’t unsettle her at all. Her superiors had been speaking to her like this since she first woke up.

“I have. I have contacted Thomas Gaelen, and he has agreed to the parameters you have set for him. He has taken the money, the vial and the disc, as you told he would.”

“Very well. If there is nothing else, you will return to your room until further notice.”

Tetra hesitated for a second. Should she tell? Yes, she should. Her masters would find out about the malfunction sooner or later anyway.

“There is one more thing. Twice during my mission I experienced a… malfunction. The first time was when I closed the door of the car that was to take me back. The second time was when I pressed my hand against the scanner to enter. During both occasions, I experienced a physical discomfort.”

“That was to be expected. Remember, tonight was the first time you spent more than a few minutes outside the Facility. If you are to continue in our employment, you will experience both comforts and discomforts far stronger than what you felt tonight. Now you shall retire, we will call on you when we need your services again.”

Tetra was slightly confused by this, but she didn’t reply. Why didn’t her superiors inform her of this? She guessed it was probably of too little importance to matter to them. Still, she had expected some warning… Realising that she was still seated she quickly got up and left the room walking faster than she usually did. She hurried down the corridors, paying no attention to the people she passed. Finally she reached her room. She placed her hand on the glass panel of the scanner and was allowed access.

Once inside, Tetra quickly slipped out of her clothes. She always felt oddly restrained when she wore them, but her superiors were quite insistent on it. She deposited the garments in the laundry chute before crossing the room to the capsule she would rest in. The capsule, like the room itself and all the other pieces of furniture in it, was made of the same material the Facility was made off, and for the first time since she woke up three weeks ago, Tetra realized it was, for lack of a better word, cold.

The lid of the capsule slid away at the lightest touch of the finger, revealing a simple mattress made out of a stiff synthetic foam. It fit her contours perfectly. Once she lay down, the lid slid back in place, blocking out the harsh glare of the white neon light coming from the ceiling. She closed her eyes and shut down, waiting for the time when her superiors would need her again.

Smiling softly to himself, the Doctor got up from behind the microphone and headed for the Supervisor’s office. As the frail old man ambled down the hall, the people he passed couldn’t help but notice that from the impeccably clean lab coat he wore to the halo of snow-white hair that surrounded his head, everything about him made it seem as if he had been pulled directly from the Facility’s walls. Completely lost in thought over the success of his creation, his mind already began to spin fantasies over the rewards the Supervisor would undoubtedly bestow upon him. Finally he reached the office, and after his identity had been confirmed by the palm scanner besides the door he was allowed access.

The office behind the ceramic doors was nothing unlike the rest of the Facility. Where the endless corridors and rooms seemed to resemble efficiency in its purest form, there was an air of luxury to this room that seemed to be completely out of place in this building, and, in a sense, even out of place in this era. The room was easily eighteen feet wide and thirty feet long. The Doctor could feel the hard tiles under his feet make place for the soft, navy-blue carpet that covered its floor. The walls of the room were covered by hardwood panels that had undoubtedly cost a fortune. One wall was completely dominated by bookcases, filled with works covering every subject from pre-war architecture to sub-molecular physics. Unlike the rest of the building, the room was lit with old light bulbs in stead of white neon. The soft yellow glow made the room seem infinitely warmer. Sitting at his desk, was the young Supervisor, who impatiently beckoned for the Doctor to sit down.

“Greetings Doctor, I heard your experiment has returned. How did she do?”

“Most excellent. She performed her assignment exactly like she was told to, as I told you she would.”

“There were no problems?”

“None that weren’t expected. If tonight was any indication, it seems that the damage her mind suffered because of the mishap during the disassembling process proved to be insignificant.”

“Insignificant? You’ve wiped her mind completely clean Doctor. She didn’t even know how to breathe when you woke her up again.”

“In all fairness… she recovered quite well…”

“She did, but it cost us two weeks. Valuable time wasted. You’re aware that such inefficiency is frowned upon, aren’t you?”

The Doctor bit his lip, and he could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. This wasn’t what he had hoped for when he stepped inside. When he spoke again, he sounded a lot less confident.

“But… in the end, we found that she performed all the better for it, that has to count for something, doesn’t it? A level of obedience that had been thought impossible to attain…”

“In that, you’re correct, which is the only reason your position hasn’t been terminated yet. However, your next assignment will have no room for failure.”

“Failure is never an option…” muttered the Doctor silently, repeating the Facility’s motto.

“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten. In seven days’ time, two very valuable minds will be delivered to you. You have until then to prepare for what I’m about to ask you.

“After reviewing the data from tonight’s mission, it has been decided that the product of your failure is more efficient than it would have been if you had succeeded. That is why it has been decided to grant you the resources to refine this process. However, where the mind of the prototype was expandable, the subjects that will be delivered to you are not. They contain valuable information that will have to be preserved when you wipe the rest clean.”

“What… what you are asking of me is quite difficult… I don’t know if I’ll-“

“Failure is never an option Doctor, and in this case, neither is refusal. Seven days to prepare, it will have to do.”

“Very well… sir…”

“You are dismissed.”

The Doctor nodded and got up, glad to leave. Feeling very nervous, he left the foreboding luxury of the Supervisor’s office behind to step back into the cold, comforting embrace of the Facility’s architecture. Once he had reached his quarters he sat down at his computer, hoping to find something that would aid this seemingly impossible assignment. Seven days… The Doctor sighed, reaching for the pot of coffee that was ever present on his desk. It would be a long week.

Back to top

By the time Thomas reached his apartment, he had already made up his mind about he’d spend his new wealth. He had spent three blocks walking with his hands jammed firmly in his pockets, continuously folding and creasing the notes so that they wouldn’t raise suspicion. He didn’t walk directly to his apartment however, he had some shopping to do first.

The 24-hour convenience store was only slightly less of a shamble than the rest of the district. Inside, the shelves were packed with the kind of food that people outside the poor districts wouldn’t even feed to their dogs. The black and white tiles of the floor were sticky with filth, and the glaring lights filled the room with a constant, irritating buzzing that would drive lesser men insane. Without looking at the labels, Thomas grabbed three soup cans and headed over to the cashier.

“Will that be all?”

“Cigarettes. Skye, large pack.”

The clerk nodded and reached for the cigarettes, putting them in the bag with the cans.

“That will be seven-thirty sir.”

Thomas nodded and handed over the money. When he got his change he grabbed the bag and left, ignoring the clerk who mechanically wished him a good night. He stepped back out into the drizzle that had begun somewhere between the club and the store. Pulling up the collar of his coat, he resumed the walk back to his apartment.

Ignoring the junkies clamouring for money and ichor, Thomas stepped inside. He couldn’t help but smile inwardly. If they knew the contents of his pockets, they’d rip him and each other to pieces over it. The elevator was out again, so he had to climb the rickety stairs to reach the third floor. He pulled out his keys and opened the gates to his palace.

As always, Thomas was surprised that the door didn’t just fall off its hinges when he opened it. The pungent stench that greeted him told him he was home again. As he kicked a dirty shirt out of the way, he made a mental note to have a second laundry day this month. He crashed down on the couch that also served as his bed and reached for his laptop. With a freshly lit cigarette between his lips Thomas opened the document on the disc Tetra had given him.

To his surprise, the documentation on his targets was more than extensive. Everything from the hospital they were born in to the names of the people they last talked to before their sudden disappearance on the Web. Luckily, it also listed all the areas his targets frequented while Dreaming. Then, when he looked up their education, something else caught his eye. West Point. Third and fifth of their year, both kicked out of service two months after graduation. For Dreaming. He could see why Tetra was interested in them. He closed the documents and reached for his cell phone.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. I need some parts.”

“Thomas? Damn, I’d have thought I’d at least get a “how are you,” considering how long it’s been…”

“I don’t have time for pleasantries. I have a job and I need your help.”

“My help? Look, you know I don’t do that-“

“No, no guns, just parts.”

“Parts? Just what kind of job is it that you need Dream parts for?”

“None of your business. I need two of your new trappers, and don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m talking about, I don’t have time for that.”

The voice on the other side of the line was quiet for a few seconds, and Thomas could practically hear the gears of thought grind. Finally a reply came. “Can you pay?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got cash this time.”

“Good. Tomorrow morning, leave the money in the coin slot of the second payphone you see when you enter Celesta park from the south side. I’ll have the package delivered to your home by the time you get back.”

“Tha-“

The person on the other side of the line had already hung up. Thomas pocketed the phone again and got up to feed himself. He quickly wiped off one of the grimy pans with an old rag hanging from a peg in the wall and heated the contents of one of the cans in it. When the soup started bubbling he took the pan off the stove and deposited it in a cracked bowl. Once it had cooled down a bit he quickly gulped it down, not bothering with a spoon. Once the bowl was empty he rinsed it with the brown water that flowed from the kitchen’s tap. Once he was sure his meal wouldn’t come back to haunt him right away, he let his body fall down back on the couch. As soon as he closed his eyes, his weary mind shut down. It had been a long day, but tomorrow would be longer.

About five hours later, Thomas was woken up by the burning sensation of itching needle marks. Groaning slightly he ran his fingernails up and down the red marks on his lower left arm until the feeling became somewhat bearable. Finally he managed to pull himself off the couch and into the bathroom. He washed his hands and face in the sink, and then he looked up at the cracked mirror, staring deeply into his own bloodshot eyes. He ran a comb to the greasy strands of long hair, but he knew it was a wasted effort. Finally he grabbed his coat and headed outside.

Thomas dreaded the moment the sunlight would hit his eyes, but luckily the combination of smog and an overcast sky reduced the discomfort to a minimum. Celesta park. He sighed and started walking, deciding that a cab would be a waste of money. Thirty minutes later, he entered the park through the south gate, but he didn’t head for the payphones. Instead he sat down on the first bench in sight. He let his eyes pass over the surroundings, but if the courier was there to pick up the money he didn’t show himself. After a few minutes Thomas got up from the bench and jammed the bills in the right phone as he passed by it. Hoping he didn’t just get screwed over, he headed back to his own apartment. When Thomas got back, there was a plastic bag on the doormat. He picked it up and went inside. The bag held two matte-black boxes wrapped in brown paper, with grooves along one edge to insert them into the machine. He decided that it was time to get to work.

The Dream machine was the only thing in his apartment worth more than ten dollars. It was hidden behind a panel in the wall that used to hold an ironing board. Carefully he lifted the entire mechanism off the hooks and put it on the floor besides the couch. He unscrewed a cap on the side and carefully poured about a quarter of the vial of ichor into the reservoir. Then he connected the machine to his laptop and the device came to life. A somewhat mechanical voice greeted him. “Hello Thomas.”

Thomas ignored the voice, his fingers dancing over the keyboard as he typed in the commands. Finally a compartment on the side of the Dream machine slid open. With slightly trembling fingers, Thomas reached into it and pulled out a thick hollow needle linked to a distribution pump inside the machine through a length of plastic hose. He let the pump expel the air in the hose and the needle before carefully letting the tip the tip glide over the skin of his lower left arm. Finally he found a spot that was unmarked. Biting his lip, he slowly slid the needle into his vein. Immediately the pump spun into action again, letting a steady flow of ichor into his bloodstream. He was trembling all over now, but he momentarily ignored it as he put on the mask that was resting on the table, which completely covered his ears, nose, eyes and mouth. With all his senses blocked, all he heard was the female voice counting down. “Three… two… one… Enter…”

Although Thomas knew his eyes were rolled back in his head, he could see a swirling mass of colour. He stretched out his hand and brushed his finger against a thick blue swirl that passed by. In response all other colours faded, leaving the blue to expand, filling his entire field of view. Soon, he was standing in a rocky valley, covered by an impossibly blue sky. In the distance he could see the red and green flickers of other Dreamers, but he decided not to interact with them. As his mind moved forward, deeper into the Web, amazed at how the pure ichor refined the sensations he experienced. It was better than ever before.

Back to top

“I am sorry, but I believe that this simulation is impossible-“

“That’s not important. What is important is your ability to improvise. Improvising is the first step on the road to improvement. Your missions will get more complicated. Improving your abilities will not be about success. It will be about survival.”

Tetra nodded in frustration, knowing that the Doctor was right. She observed the course again, looking for a way out. She knew she could outrun the automatic machineguns on a straight stretch, but this was anything but straight. Her body was strong enough to disable one of the guns with a well placed kick, but then the other would… Of course, it was so simple once she saw it.

“I am ready Doctor.”

“Very well, starting the timer in three… two… one…”

As soon as the buzzer sounded, Tetra kicked off and started running. She could hear the whirr of the machineguns spinning into action. Half a second later, all she could hear was the echoing sound of hundreds of bullets being spat at her. Still, she was one step ahead of them as she dived between two walls, the only safe spot in the entire course. She could hear the clatter of the last shells falling to the ground, then nothing more, the guns momentarily without a target. As she squatted down for the jump, artificial glands released a fresh dose of adrenaline into her bloodstream. She felt like a spring wound up too tight, and an odd, prickling sensation passed through the muscles of her calves and thighs. Then, in one blinding moment of impossible speed, she kicked off, launching twelve feet into the air before twisting her body into a graceful summersault. The machineguns’ motion detectors immediately caught her, and another stream of bullets was released. As soon as she landed she heard two small explosions, and then silence. Reacting a fraction of a second too late, the streams of bullets had missed Tetra, but because she was positioned directly between them the guns had disabled themselves with their rapid-fire rounds. Immediately Tetra started moving again, reaching the red button with her usual combination of speed and grace. She’d smile inwardly if she knew how to.

“Just under even seconds. Not bad. I had expected you to take longer to find the solution. I guess it’s time to step up your training. Return to your room, you are done for today.”

“But Doctor… you promised…”

“Ah yes, of course, forgive me…”

The Doctor reached into one of the many pockets of his lab coat and pulled out a small music box. His frail fingers coiled up the spring, then set the box down besides the microphone. A series of tinkling notes echoed through the training room. Although she didn’t order her body to do so, Tetra sank to her knees. This worried the Doctor, but he didn’t voice his concern. Ever since her first mission outside the Facility, Tetra had shown a disturbing interest in music. Considering how damaged her mind was, he wondered if it was just a residue the scanners had missed, or something that was triggered by the music she had undoubtedly heard in the club. As the tinkling went on, The Doctor turned his back on the view screen and headed back to his own quarters to type out an evaluation report. Even though he was now under the added burden of the Supervisor’s new project, he was also expected to work on Tetra’s training. In the past two days, he had had two hours of sleep, and he was beginning to feel the consequences. Still, the pot of coffee that was waiting for him at his desk would make it all bearable for a few more hours.

After a few minutes the tinkling sound of the lullaby died out, leaving Tetra alone with her thoughts. She had no idea why, but ever since she first heard it she had come to think of the music box as a friend. The Doctor seemed surprised when she asked him about music, but after a while he had decided to indulge in her curiosity. Now, whenever she had completed a training session, her mind would be calmed by the box’s lullaby. At night, when she was supposed to be sleeping, she would hum it to herself, over and over again. She had no way of knowing her superiors weren’t listening and watching even then, but somehow she didn’t care. As the song headed into its final notes, the glands at the corners of her eyes suddenly released a few drops of the saline solution that was meant to clean her eyes. She was surprised to feel the heavy drops roll down her face. She quickly wiped them away, wondering why she was malfunctioning so much since she had gone outside. Would this mean… would this mean they would dismantle her? She knew she was just a machine… why did this make her so afraid?

Finally Tetra got up again, afraid that she’d be reprimanded if she stayed for too long. As she walked down the pristine corridors, the glands in the corners of her eyes released more fluids, even though she had ordered them to stop. The fact that she couldn’t control this bodily function frustrated her even more than the fact that she had no idea what had caused her to malfunction like this. Finally she reached the sanctuary of her room. Waiting for her on the desk was a thin book, simply titled “The Dreamweb.” Normally she held little interest for the ‘homework’ that she was expected to fill the hours she wasn’t training with, but this was different. Inside this book, there might be an explanation as to how Thomas Gaelen, the man she had met that night in the club, could bring himself to neglect his body like he did. It was one of the questions that had haunted her since her first mission outside. Immediately she sat down at her desk and opened the book.

“The details to the origins of the Dreamweb are vague at best. What can be said for certain is that it spawned from a series of experiments in neural stimuli that started during the first decade of the twenty-first century. It is believed that all companies that produced some form of electronics and several governments each invested millions of dollars into their own projects, all hoping to be the first to unlock the secrets of virtual reality. However, when the expected breakthrough still hadn’t come after fifteen years of hard work, the projects were abandoned one by one. In the end, it was one small Silicon Valley company by the name of Oneiros that continued their work in secret.

“In the year 2023, the first virtual reality machine was put on the market. Since the concept had lost the attention of the public a few years earlier, it was only a mild success, and didn’t make nearly enough money to cover the debts Oneiros had made during the research process. The company was declared bankrupt five months after the release of their machine. The plans and patents were sold off to the highest bidder, an overseas investment company whose name has unfortunately been lost.

“Then, about a year later, a new series of virtual reality machines hit the market. However, this time all the major companies were involved. Nobody knows for sure whether they bought the plans from the investment company or if they had simply developed the machines on their own by analysing the Oneiros model. Since they had the budget to back their product with extensive advertising campaigns, the second wave was an unprecedented success. Within two years’ time, one in three households in the Western world held a machine.

“The third breakthrough came about nine months later, when two companies released models that could be linked directly to the internet. So far, all content for the machines had been programmed and sold by the companies that made the machines. Now, for the first time, users of the machine could program and send out their own content. This content rarely matched up to the quality of the programs released by the companies, but since it allowed the users to tap into a whole range of subjects deemed ‘inappropriate’ by the companies the feature was still used widely. Violence, pornography and violent pornography were among the most popular of subjects. It was this material that led to the eventual downfall of virtual reality as it was known at the time.

“It was because virtual reality enabled its users to ‘live’ the scenes they viewed that these scenes directly affected the watcher’s mental stability. In the past, comics, rock music, television, videogames and many other media were blamed for causing violent behaviour. While it was mostly hysteria inspired by scaremongers, no-one could deny that virtual reality had an influence on the behaviour of its users. Violent crime went through the roof, and within a year after the virtual reality system was opened to content from the public domain, a global ban was decreed. A special taskforce was created to oversee the destruction of all forms of virtual technology and the research related to it.

“Although it took nearly a decade, in the end all virtual reality technology was thought to be destroyed, and a long list of components used in the construction of these machines was banned from all trade. Life went back to normal, crime rates dropped, and treatments were devised for those whose minds were damaged by virtual reality.

“Virtual reality was all but destroyed. However, a handful of machines survived in the larger cities of the west coast. They fell victim to the underground world of experimental hallucinogenic drugs. People began to experiment in combining the stimuli of virtual reality machines with drugs like acid and LSD. This eventually led to the emergence of the compound known as ichor. Its name is derived from the mythological name the Greeks gave to the blood of the gods.

“Ichor was the key in the resurgence of virtual reality. Since the ban on trade in many vital components, the original machines were nearly impossible to reproduce. The crude copies that were produced could in no way approach the quality of the originals. However, a dose of ichor released into the user’s bloodstream triggered the release of several hormones in the user’s brain, which actually made the machine’s crude stimuli more enjoyable than those of the original models. However, since the combination of ichor and the hormones a brain influenced by it releases when exposed to virtual reality is easily as addictive as heroine, and in the long term, just as harmful, as the human body and mind are greatly unfit to cope with the enhanced stimuli. Although it was a relatively new drug, ichor and replicas of virtual reality machines quickly found their place in the world of drug trade. Within a year, it had spread through most of the western hemisphere.

“The actual birth of the Dreamweb as we know it came two years ago, when a protocol was written that allowed users to interact. This new concept led to an entire community known simply as ‘The Dreamers’. They are social outcasts who, alone or linked through the web, live out their deepest, darkest fantasies, fuelling their addiction as they do so. Living in the poorest areas of large cities, they carve out a live for themselves, their minds fixed on when they will get their next dose of ichor.”

Tetra was just about to turn the page to start on the second chapter when she heard the buzzer that indicated it was time for her to sleep. She put down the book and slipped out of her clothes. As she walked to her capsule, she unconsciously started humming the music box’s lullaby again.

Back to top

Thomas clambered over the windswept hill, keeping his eyes on the scanning device. According to this, his first target should be somewhere in this hub. Finally the valley came into sight. He could see a few green tents, but they seemed to be deserted. His device showed that there was nobody in the area, except for one very faint signal. He smiled, guessing that this might just be easier than he had expected. He pocketed his device and headed down towards the tents.

The first two tents were empty, except for a few discarded weapons. Typical, Thomas thought, they run around in a world of nearly infinite possibility and they just use it as another way of shooting each other. Still, he could see why a West Point graduate would hang around here. All the weapons seemed to be types that were once used by the army. However, they were crude replicas, indicating that whoever had set up this hub was obviously an amateur. Still, he picked one up just in case, not wanting to be caught off guard.

The third tent he inspected was the largest of the camp, and it had a large red cross painted on one of the flaps. Cautiously Thomas stepped inside. His scanner bleeped twice, indicating that he had probably found his target. Surely enough, on one of the beds at the far end of the tent he saw something flicker. When he went over to it, he realized that it was a Dreamer with a very bad connection, probably due to a damaged device. Still, according to his scanner, it was one of the two targets Tetra had paid him to retrieve.

The man’s body reminded Thomas of the twentieth century action movies he occasionally watched at the old cinema. The parts of the body that were still occasionally visible were all too overly muscled, and a tattoo of a skull with a snake crawling out of one of it’s eye sockets decorated his right shoulder. The lettering underneath it read “TORTURE IS ECSTACY”. Idiot. Thomas punched in a few commands on the keypad of his scanner to trace the signal. The connection was very weak, so it would take a few minutes. With a heavy sigh he sat down on the bunk besides his target, deciding that he might as well make himself comfortable. Finally a series of long beeps indicated that he had the coordinates he needed. He turned around to head for the logout point.

As Thomas pushed aside the tent flap, he felt something heavy connect with the back of his neck, and he went sprawling into the sand. When he turned around he saw the butt of the rifle he had brought into the tent coming towards him, and he raised his arms in front of his face in reflex. It passed through him without harming up. Confused, Thomas opened his eyes again. His target was standing over him, looking as confused as he was. Obviously the man’s bad connection had saved Thomas. Slowly he got up again, careful not to seem hostile. He was about to talk when the man opened his mouth.

“Identify … prisoner … I …”

Thomas cursed, realizing that the bad connection would make it very hard to reason.

“Just calm down, your machine has been damaged. I’ve been sent by a friend to retrieve you.” Conveniently, Thomas didn’t mention that the man’s body had been stolen. It would probably just make him more angry.

“Prisoner … you … assist … die …”

“Look, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, but if you want assistance I’ve got good news, because that’s what I-“

The man didn’t wait any longer but let out a garbled howl of rage, squeezing the trigger of the rifle. A spray of bullets just barely missed Thomas, although he wasn’t sure if they were merely lagging. He decided not to take any chances and ran for his life. In the Dreamweb, bullets could tickle a man or kill him, depending on their configuration. Considering the military theme of this particular hub, the second kind of bullets seemed far more likely. He heard more shots being fired, and when he looked over his shoulder he could see the man chasing him. However, his unstable connection meant that he was unable to really keep up with Thomas. Finally a blue glare washed over him, meaning that he had reached the logout point.

Thomas’ eyes flew open. He was drenched in sweat and he had fallen off the couch. Groaning, he pulled away the mask. Luckily most of the lights in the apartment had been dimmed, so his eyes easily adjusted. Then he reached for the needle stuck in his arm. It came out painfully slow, but in the end its entire length left his arm, leaving a few drops of red fluid seeping out of the wound. Whether it was blood or ichor Thomas did not know, but he wiped them away anyway. As his body adjusted to the sudden exit from the Web, he felt a sudden wave of nausea. Three seconds later he was kneeling in front of the cracked toilet, emptying his stomach into it.

After a few minutes of refinding his balance and trying to flush the toilet, Thomas headed back to his laptop. He opened the tracking program he had used, extracting the coordinates he had retrieved on the Web and running them through a map on the city. To his surprise, the target appeared to be logged in from one of the rich districts. Retrieving the mind would be harder than he thought. In the kitchen Thomas found a bottle of some unidentifiable alcoholic substance, and after a few swigs of it he felt stable enough to head outside.

A storm had broken out overnight, pounding the streets with heavy torrents of rain and the occasional echoing thunderclap. The wind tugged at Thomas’ long coat, but soon enough it was so heavy with rainwater that it just hung limply from his body. By the time he arrived at the subway station he was leaving a trail of dirty rainwater behind him, which mingled with the trails of other passengers, hiding the dirty grey tiles under a coating of mud.

As Thomas sat down on one of the plastic chairs that jutted from the wall the speaker over his head crackled to life, causing him to flinch. It blared out the usual warning about muggers, pickpockets, terrorists, street artists and other dangerous criminals that the general public needed to be aware of. The heavy black box in his pocket was pressed painfully against his ribs, but he ignored it, glad that he was happy that at least the security gates hadn’t picked up on it. Finally the train slid into the station, and Thomas joined the people crowding it’s entrances, forcing his way inside.
As the train rumbled silently onward, Thomas tried to remain standing, clutching one of the handles that were attached to the ceiling. Station after station the train halted, and the people that got in and out slowly seemed to change into a cleaner, better-dressed and healthier kind of people than Thomas was used to. When he finally arrived at his destination, he was easily the most shabby person in the station.

The station itself, and the streets around it, was situated in one of the few areas of the city that was still occasionally cleaned. At this time of night the flow of pedestrians was reduced to a minimum, but his filthy appearance still made him stand out very much, and he was eyed very suspiciously by several people passing him, as well as the security patrols. If they knew what he was about to do, he’d probably be shot down without any questions asked.

Finally he reached the apartment building he was looking for. According to the sign bolted over the main entrance it was named “Skyline”. He passed the revolving glass doors, deciding not to confront the doorman. In stead he headed into the alleyway behind the building. When he was sure nobody watched him he reached down and pulled away the sewage grate. Ignoring the smell, he lowered himself into the murky darkness below.

After a few minutes of crawling through the filthy pipe Thomas arrived in the boiler room of the apartment building. Amidst the humming machinery he found the door to the ventilation system. The ducts were covered by a steel grate, but they came off easily. With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself into the narrow opening and began climbing the ladder, counting the floors as he went.

Reaching the twenty-seventh floor was harder than Thomas had expected. Twice he was almost caught by the security devices patrolling the vents, and he had to turn around and look for a different route. Finally he had reached his target’s apartment. From his viewpoint just inside the ventilation shaft, he could see the smashed panel of the security system. Someone had obviously visited this place before, probably the people that Tetra had mentioned. When he was sure security was no longer active, he let himself drop to the ground.

From what he could see, Thomas was standing in a luxurious living room that could easily hold his entire apartment. Besides the smashed security panel, he couldn’t see any signs of forced entry. When he flicked a switch on the wall, the lights on the ceiling flickered on, casting the entire room in a soft yellow light. A long row of military-themed photos and paintings circled the room, interrupted occasionally by a display case of medals or some antique weapon. It was clear that he had reached the apartment of his target.

In the bedroom Thomas finally found what he was looking for. A Dream machine, simply hidden under the bed. He could see that the quality was a lot better than the one he was using, but he suppressed the urge to take it home with him, since he’d probably stand out too much and get in trouble on the subway. In stead he pulled the box he had brought from his jacket and inserted it into the machine. A single light on it came to live, then two, then three, and then the device let out a long beep to indicate that the download was complete. Thomas pocketed the device and was just about to leave when he heard someone talk on the other side of the door, a feeling of cold dread washing over him.

“You just go on ahead, I think I heard something in the bedroom…”

Back to top

Silently, the lid slid from Tetra’s sleeping capsule, indicating that it was time for her to get up. As always clean clothes were waiting for her on the desk, but whoever had put them there had also taken away the book on the Dreamweb. It didn’t matter. Now that she had read it, she would never forget a single word of it. Once she had put on the clothes, she left her room and headed towards the training area. To her surprise, the Doctor was waiting for her by the large double doors that served as the entrance to the training area. Usually, he would wait for her in the control room.

“Good morning Tetra, I’m afraid that you won’t be training today. I’ve been asked by the Supervisor to show you another project we’ve been working on for a few days now. He thought it might interest you. Follow me please…”

Without a word, the Doctor turned around and headed down the corridor. Tetra followed, also silent. At the end of a corridor was a small elevator, which took them twelve floors down. Tetra had never been down this far before, and the shift in air pressure told her that they had to be underground by now. The hallways beyond the elevator door at this floor didn’t betray this however, looking exactly the same like they did in the rest of the Facility.

“My colleague will be eager to see you again, she hasn’t seen you since I woke you up, now nearly four weeks ago…”

His colleague? Tetra knew who the Doctor was talking about, but why would the Chirurgeon be so eager? Tetra couldn’t see why the odd woman was still interested in her. After all, her work on her was done now. Still, she would get her answer soon. The door in front of them read ‘Biotechnological Engineering.’ After the scanner besides it had recognized the Doctor’s palm print, it swung silently inward.

Most of the Facility’s employees who were aware of it’s existence simply called the department of biotechnological engineering ‘the menagerie’. The department was ruled by a woman simply known as ‘the Chirurgeon’, a cruelly beautiful and undeniably brilliant scientist of unknown age. She didn’t look a day older than twenty-five, but according to some of the older employees she had been working in the Facility for at least twice as long.

The Doctor hurried on, leaving Tetra no time to examine the many strange displays and experiments around her. She only caught brief glances. A mouse walking around its cage on metallic legs that had been directly grafted directly onto its body, replacing its normal leg. A scientist injecting a strange, bluish liquid into the water of a small tank containing a strange, tentacled fish. A perfect mechanic replica of a human arm wired into a computer, sketching what appeared to be a small beetle in a glass jar in front of it. A plastic mask with glass eyes that seemed to follow her as she walked past it. Somehow, it all made her feel slightly uncomfortable. Finally they passed through a set of double doors, leaving the main laboratory behind. They were now standing in the Chirurgeon’s private labs, one of the most secret places in the Facility. As soon as the doors closed behind them, the overseer of the menagerie arrived to greet them. Staring at the Chirurgeon’s cold, emotionless face, Tetra couldn’t help but shiver, but she managed to hide it from sight.

“Greetings Doctor, Tetra, how pleasant to see you again.” Her voice was almost mechanical, as if she didn’t want to waste more energy than absolutely necessary on talking to them.

“Greetings Chirurgeon, I’ve brought Tetra, as the Supervisor requested.”

“Very well, although I don’t see what purpose showing her Pentos would serve.”

“I’m sure the Supervisor has his reasons.”

“I suppose you’re right… well, let’s not waste anyone’s time…”

The Chirurgeon led them down the hall to a room at the far end of it. Like every other door in the Facility, it opened at a command from the palm scanner besides it. However, this one responded only to the touch of the Supervisor or the Chirurgeon. Beyond waited a brightly-lit room.

“Welcome to the future of the human race, as designed and constructed by the finest minds in the Facility’s service.”

The Doctor let out a polite gasp of surprise, but Tetra remained silent. In the middle of the room, which seemed to be an overgrown surgical theatre, a vaguely humanoid body rested on an extra large operating table. Surrounding it were several tables with instruments, as well as all sorts of machinery. Despite the fact that the body was cut open at several places, there was no trace of blood. Both legs were gone from the knee down, and one of them had already been replaced by a metallic graft, which was shaped like the lower leg of a kangaroo. The entire torso was carved out, leaving not a trace of the ribs or organs inside. They’d all be replaced by more efficient mechanic replicas later. Both hands had been cut off, and the wrists had been replaced by metal mounts that could be used to wield just about any kind of tool. Several of such tools hung from the wall to the right of the table. A mechanic replica of a human hand identical to the one Tetra had seen in the main laboratory, a small welding device, a double-edged, razor sharp blade that vaguely resembled a katana but was sharp on both edges, a simple searchlight with a built-in scanning device and a smaller version of the machineguns Tetra had to face during her training.

The most disconcerting feature of all was the man’s face. The skin had been pealed back and tacked to the surface of the table with metallic pins. All tissue underneath had been replaced by machinery, except for the brain. Between artificial muscles woven from carbon fibres, the occasional metallic glint was all that showed of the creature’s metallic skull. It’s eye sockets were filled with two inhuman metallic orbs, interrupted only by a perfectly centred black pupil.

“Beautiful, isn’t he? If young Tetra here is the evolution of the human body, Pentos is the perfection of it. In fact, augmenting the human form with such advanced mechanical components puts him beyond perfection. He won’t need to rest, to eat, or even to breathe. His eyes can see more and further than any human or animal. His legs allow him to outrun trains and leap over four-story buildings. He can carry any kind of weapon you can think of. His blood will be replaced by a synthetic compound that’s even more efficient than the one that’s running through Tetra’s veins. Of course, the most crucial part of the construct will be supplied by you, Doctor.”

“Indeed. Tetra here has successfully contacted a man to retrieve the minds for me.”

“Has she now? Oh well, I suppose she had to get out once… a shame there won’t be any need for her once Pentos has been completed.”

No need for her? Tetra struggled to comprehend what it meant, but her fractured mind couldn’t grasp it. The Doctor and the Chirurgeon had begun to discuss the details of Pentos’ construct, but she wasn’t paying attention. The muscles in her legs seemed to have trouble keeping her upright. More fluids leaked from the glands in her eyes, but she brushed it away. When she had finally composed herself, the Doctor was just about to turn around and leave. Obediently she followed him, ignoring the Chirurgeon as she bade them goodbye. When they were both inside the elevator, the Doctor finally spoke.

“Quite amazing, isn’t it? Pentos truly is the pinnacle of the Facility’s achievements over the years. I wouldn’t use the word ‘beautiful’ like the Chirurgeon did, but he certainly was amazing, wasn’t he?”

Pinnacle of achievements? Tetra’s memory reminded her that the Doctor had used the exact same words to describe her to the Supervisor, just minutes after she had woken up. “He seemed… efficient.” The Doctor couldn’t help but chuckle at Tetra’s choice of words, but he didn’t say anything. Finally the door to the elevator opened.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you to return to your room on your own, I have a report to finish.”

Tetra didn’t say anything but stepped through the doors. The second they closed behind her, she fell to her hands and knees, her breathing reduced to convulsing gasps. Her heart was racing, and she seemed to be unable to control it. Clear droplets splattered on the floor. It took her a full fifteen minutes to compose herself, and it was a miracle that she hadn’t been seen. Finally she got up and dashed to her room in a straight run, blurring past unsuspecting Facility employees. Once the door to her room was closed, she wildly tore off her clothes and fell to her knees, pounding her fists on the ceramic walls. She started to cry again. Her sobs echoed in the cramped quarters, interrupted randomly by chaotic bits of the music box’s melody, hummed softly.

Finally, she did not know how, Tetra managed to pull herself up and climb into the sleeping capsule. She had stopped crying but continued to hum, improvising on the melody she had learned. When the signal to sleep sounded, she tried to ignore it, but her mind tried to shut her body down anyway. Finally she lay still, but her mind continued to brood on what she had heard, repeating the words over and over again. Perfection… beautiful… amazing… pinnacle of achievement… no need for her… Slowly the words chiselled away at her obedience, unlocking something very deep inside of her. She never knew she had had it and the Doctor and Supervisor thought it had been erased, but it was definitely there, and for the first time since her death it awoke.

Back to top

Thomas felt a cold fear grip at his heart. Heavy footsteps pounded across the floorboards, approaching the bedroom door. Not sure what else he could do, he threw himself into the large closet. He managed to shut the door just in time, his impact softened by various items of clothing.

Thomas wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but a pungent smell of sweat penetrated his nostrils the moment the door swung open. The person outside the closet was obviously quite fat, which was a rarity in these days of what people called ‘the hidden famine’. It wasn’t the quantity of food that was a problem, it was the quality. Even though the government fervently denied it, more and more people simply dropped dead in the streets, their bodies wracked by a constant lack of vitamins. There was food aplenty, yet the entire world was hungry.

“Will you hurry up? He’s obviously not here either, and it looks like he hasn’t been for days.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right… just another Dreamer vanished into the night I guess… might as well ring his folks and get this place cleaned out. I’ve already got people jumping for a chance to move in…”

The fat man let out a dry, unconvinced chuckle and turned around, slamming the door shut behind him. Thomas let out a sigh of relief, but waited for another fifteen minutes before getting up and out again, leaving the apartment building the same way he had come in.

The train ride home was uneventful. Although he managed to avoid drawing the attention of the security patrols, he did have to leave the train two stations earlier due to a bomb threat. Luckily the rain had stopped for the moment, so the walk home wasn’t too uncomfortable. Still, the earlier rain had left his matches wet, so the relief of a cigarette would have to wait until he got home.

Once he stumbled into the kitchen he realized that he had forgotten to buy a refill for the empty bottle standing on the sink. He managed to shake out a few drops, but it wasn’t enough by far to dull the aching pain in his joints. He slumped on the couch, his body craving alcohol but lacking the strength to get up and out to buy it. Finally he managed to force his body into a light, restless sleep.

A few hours later the glaring sunlight that streamed into his apartment through seems in the boarded up windows provided a rude awakening for Thomas. For the first time in months, the thick cover of clouds and smog seemed to have been lifted. Groaning slightly, he pulled himself up from the couch. Ignoring the burning itching of the needle marked skin of his lower left arm, he forced himself into the bathroom. The water that came out of the sink was fairly clean, which meant that he had no excuse not to wash up. After quickly going over his hair and face, he reached for the dull razor lying on the shelf under the cracked mirror. As he worked on the rough stubble, his mind searched for reasons not to use the blade on his wrists in stead. Although he couldn’t think of any, he managed to put the blade down without giving in to the sudden suicidal whim. When he felt like he had done all he could about his shabby appearance, he grabbed his coat and headed outside.

A bird. Thomas didn’t know if it had been months or years, but for the first time in a long time he heard a bird. It was as if the city had fallen back into time. Happier, brighter times. Luckily, there was still plenty of filth out on the sidewalk to remind him that this was just a temporary illusion. Still trying very hard to ignore the urge to scratch his burning left arm, he made his way down to the bar.

The Bloodline was the kind of bar that made the rest of the city seem just a little more enjoyable. It was a cesspool, but it was a cesspool that served alcohol and that was avoided by the security patrols, which was all Thomas really needed right now.

The bar was one of the few buildings that didn’t have boarded up windows, but heavy cast-iron grilles and a thick layer of filth functioned just the same. The air inside seemed slightly acidic. The menu carried only two items. A small glass of a clear liquid that left permanent marks on the wooden furniture if it was spilled, and an unidentified piece of meat served roasted on a stick. The meat was rarely ordered, and in all his years Thomas had never seen anyone with a stomach strong enough to eat it completely. The alcohol was ordered all the more, which was little surprise considering that the entire world seemed to be bent on drowning its troubles these days.

Without saying a word, money was exchanged for a bottle and a glass, and Thomas slouched over to a rickety table in the corner of the bar. After lighting a cigarette he filled the glass. As he brought it up to his lips the fumes made his eyes water, but he managed to swallow it in one go without wincing too much. As the burning sensation passed through his throat and down his body the room spun a little, a brief glimpse of the enjoyable numbness that was about to come.

Three hours and two bottles later, Thomas stumbled back out into the twilight. The clouds had returned, bringing with them a comforting darkness. He half-stumbled, half walked out of the alley, the comforting weight of a spare bottle pressed against his ribs. He was completely and utterly drunk, but he welcomed the sensation. For the moment, the pain of his more demanding addiction would be forgotten, giving him the will to live on another day or so.

As Thomas navigated the streets and alleyways, something in the atmosphere around him seemed to shift. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it filled him with an uncomfortable sense of dread. Then, a graffiti-filled section of wall caught his eye. Depicted on the wall was a vertical wooden beam, with a transverse beam attached to it about two thirds of the way up. Nailed to the ends of the transverse beam were a pair of bloody hands, with a pair of bloody feet nailed to the bottom of the vertical beam to match. The rest of the beam was blood splattered but empty. Written over it in bright letters arching across heavily clouded sky were four words which Thomas repeated with trembling voice…

“Eli… Eli… Lama sabachtani?”

Thomas didn’t understand the words, but the feeling of dread doubled in strength, and although he didn’t know whether it was because of the alcohol or because of something much more dangerous, for the moment he thought he saw the cross rushing towards him. Without second thought he dashed for the other end of the alley, ignoring the sleeping bum he trampled. He didn’t know where the hallucination came from, but he feared it was more than the alcohol.

Thirty minutes later Thomas was back in his apartment. He had run most of the way, and his heart was still hammering wildly. More alcohol had done very little to calm his nerves, and more than anything he wanted to connect to the Dreamweb. Still, he knew that jacking back in so shortly after his previous trip would probably seriously injure him. Finally he settled on an attempt at sleep, throwing his body down on the couch.

Thomas drifted off as soon as he closed his bloodshot eyes. However, sleep was not restful. Almost immediately he was assaulted by the image of the cross with the severed hands and feet. No matter how fast he ran, the alley never ended. He woke up five hours later, after his tossing and turning threw his body off the couch. The skin on his temple had cracked, causing the blood to seep out onto the filthy carpet. The residue of the alcohol he had consumed earlier numbed the pain, so he just let himself lie there.

Thirty minutes later, Thomas was pulled from his semi-coma by a ringing sound coming from his laptop, indicating that he had received a new message. With a considerable amount of effort he pulled himself from the floor, wincing at the tearing sensation left by the dried-up blood pulling loose from the carpet. With trembling hands he typed in the commands to open the message, but to his frustration the letters seemed to be scrambled, illegible.

“Eli… Eli… Lama sabachtani?”

Thomas slumped to the floor again. He was losing his mind. He knew it would eventually happen, and that there was very little he could do about it. The Web was stronger than he was, and now it had begun consuming his sanity. The nails of his right hand dug into the skin of his left arm, but he didn’t feel it. For hours on end he just sat there, scratching his arm until the skin was raw and bloody. Finally the buzzing sensation in his head subsided and he closed his eyes again. He slowly fell asleep again, but no more nightmares haunted him.

When Thomas woke up again, some of his sanity had returned, and with it the realization that he only had two more days before Tetra would contact him again to collect the minds he was supposed to find. After a meal of cold soup he threw himself at his laptop, starting a feverish search for clues about the location of his final target. A cigarette was clenched tightly between his lips, but he ignored the temptation of the bottle in the pocket of his coat. He had work to do.

Back to top

When the lid slid off Tetra’s sleeping capsule, she somehow couldn’t find the strength to get out immediately. It took her a few minutes, but when she pulled herself out a blind panic suddenly gripped at her. Was she malfunctioning, would they dismantle her? Trying to shake the confusion, she quickly put on the clothes that were waiting for her on the table. To her surprise, they were identical to what she wore the night she headed outside, the night she heard the music… would this mean they would let her go out again? Or would they… she could not bring herself to think it. The note that came with the clothes told her to go to the briefing room.

As she walked down the endlessly white hallways, the facility’s employees ignored her as always. Still, she couldn’t help but shake the idea that something about them was… different somehow. If she had been more human she probably would have blamed it on her imagination, but as it was she wasn’t even aware of the fact that she had an imagination. She walked a little faster, still feeling slightly nervous.

As always, the door swung open as soon as she placed her hand on the glass plate of the scanner. She stepped into the empty chamber beyond and sat on the chair, waiting for what was to come. For some reason, a small glass vial containing a clear blue liquid was lying on the table, along with a neat wad of bills, but she ignored them. If it was of any importance to her, her superiors would let her know in the briefing. She sat perfectly still, staring at the wall, waiting for the voice of the Doctor.

“Good morning Tetra, I hope you slept well?”

“I did, but-“

“Good, good, very well then… I suppose by your clothes you can already tell you’re going out tonight? Don’t worry, your mission will be quite simple. You will meet up with Thomas Gaelen, the man you had contact with earlier, at club Wonderland. We have had contact with him, and he has succeeded in retrieving the minds we had requested from him. You will give mister Gaelen his payment and retrieve those minds for us. You will then hand them over to a courier. Then you will follow mister Gaelen to his home and kill him, using the poison you see before you. It’s quite potent, so a single drop on his lips should be enough. When the deed is done, one of our cars will come to pick you up.”

Kill? Why? Tetra opened and closed her mouth several times, but she couldn’t find the courage to vocalize her doubts. No. She would do as was asked of her, as she would always do. She knew she would eventually be dismantled, probably the moment Pentos started functioning, but maybe she could convince her superiors that she could be useful to them, that there was no need to remove her.

“I will do as you have asked.”

“I expected nothing less. Now go, your transport is waiting for you in the garage. And… good luck.”

Luck? Tetra wondered why the Doctor mentioned it. Luck was a flawed concept, used by humans to shift blame from themselves when they failed. She would not fail. If her superiors wanted Thomas dead, she would make it happen. He probably knew too much about the Facility anyway, and they couldn’t afford to take any risks. The Doctor had told her that the Facility as a whole was destined for greatness, but they had to pay attention to detail if that destiny was to be reached. By the time Tetra reached the elevator that would take her down to the garage, she felt a lot more determined.

“Was that doubt I saw?”

The Doctor felt a cold lump form around his stomach. Trembling slightly he turned around, seeing the Supervisor standing directly behind him. He had to swallow several times before he found his tongue again.

“I-I’m sure it was nothing… just… just a minor malfunction, she is just a prototype, after all…”

“It seems she has been displaying quite a few malfunctions the past few days… what kind of assurance can you give me that these minor malfunctions won’t become major?”

“We tested her thoroughly, you were there. Besides, once she has retrieved the minds…”

“We will dismantle her, of course, but you’ll be held responsible for everything that happens between now and that moment, so I hope you’re as sure as you say you are that Tetra will function normally. Failure is never an option.”

“Failure is never an option… not even for Tetra. Her programming is as perfect as it could be, considering the circumstances. And I promise you, Pentos will be even better.”

“See that he is. The Chirurgeon would be quite disappointed if you ruined all her work by installing a faulty mind.”

“Don’t worry Supervisor, I’ve already finished my report and I’ll have it delivered to your office as soon as possible. The procedure has been perfected.”

“Very well Doctor, you have the benefit of the doubt for the moment.”

“Tha-“

Without paying any further attention to the Doctor, the Supervisor turned on his heels and left. As he stepped into a private elevator that would take him directly to his office, he ran his fingers along the syringe he carried with him. Maybe the Doctor did deserve another chance, but like Tetra he was about to become unneeded. No, the Doctor’s time at the Facility was over, even if he himself didn’t realize it. Once back in his opulent office he let himself sink into the comfortable leather chair, feeling completely at rest. Things were working out perfectly.

Back in his own quarters, the Doctor clutched faintly at a large cup of coffee, trying to get his thoughts back under control. The Supervisor’s unexpected visit had shaken him to the core. The Supervisor normally stayed up in the ivory tower of his office, taking in the information he demanded from his underlings and using it to further shape the future of the Facility. Nobody could see the full scope of the Facility’s plans but him. If he felt that he needed to leave his office to speak to the Doctor personally, it could only mean one thing. His time in the Facility was through. He had no idea what would happen after his employment had been terminated. He’d like to hope that he would simply be asked to leave, but he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Colleagues came and went, but he never felt the need to fraternize enough with them to worry about what happened after they left. He tried to calm his nerves with the thought that his expertise was still needed, but he knew that wasn’t true either. The Supervisor was a genius, an expert in every field studied in the Facility. Researches were hired simply because he didn’t have enough time to do all the work himself, and since the Doctor couldn’t think of a use for his expertise in mind manipulation after Pentos’ completion, he couldn’t help but fear the worst.

Then, without a warning, a knock on the door came. The Doctor looked up. Were they coming for him already? It didn’t matter really, he knew that there was no escape. If they wanted, his superiors could simply pump a poisonous gas into the ventilation system. He might as well face his fate standing. He went over to the door to see whoever was standing behind it.

The door swung open the moment he brought his trembling hand down on the switch, but to his surprise the person standing beyond wasn’t the Supervisor, or even a team of armed assassins. It was the Chirurgeon. She looked somewhat uncertain of herself, which was even more disturbing than the fact that she had looked him up in his private quarters without so much as a note ahead.

“Doctor, can I come in? We need to talk.”

The Chirurgeon might have looked nervous, but her voice still carried the same icy strength it always carried. The Doctor nodded faintly, and he was almost bowled over as his colleague swept past him, claiming the seat behind the Doctor’s desk. Feeling somewhat overwhelmed, he pulled up an extra seat and sat down across of her. He wasn’t sure what to expect so he waited for the Chirurgeon to speak, still feeling very uneasy.

“I’m sorry for the unexpected visit Doctor, but we have to speak. Is this room safe?”

“I would hope that my work over the years has earned enough of the Supervisor’s trust to warrant a room without bugs…”

“Probably. Doesn’t matter really though… here, read this…”

The Chirurgeon shoved a note across the desk, which the Doctor picked up and read. Almost immediately, his eyes went wide with fear.

“This… this can’t be… are you sure?”

The Chirurgeon nodded, her face a cold, dispassionate mask.

Back to top

Thomas sighed as he walked down the street. Club Wonderland still looked the same, a grimy, filthy mess. The sign still hadn’t been fixed. The music was still bad. It’s clientele still existed of misfits and losers. He trudged through a pool of rainwater, the cold liquid immediately seeping through the cracked leather of his boots. He ignored the numbing pain, walking ever onwards towards the club. He would get new ones once he got his payment.

The second mind had been almost as hard to retrieve as the first. The information Tetra had provided him with conveniently omitted that the target was a member of a violent street gang – a violent street gang that was waiting for him. Still, he had managed to get in and retrieve the mind from the Dream machine without being noticed. As he put his right foot down he winced at the painful twinge that shot up his right thigh. Getting out without being noticed had proven harder, and he had to run for his life. He had managed to avoid most of the gunfire, but one bullet had grazed his leg. With no money for medical treatment, his only option had been to patch the wound up himself. Now, every step was a wince. Still, he was used to physical discomfort so he managed to ignore it.

Now, with the two trappers nested inside his coat pocket, Thomas stepped into the crowded main area of the club. He cringed as the flashing coloured lights hit his eyes, pulsating in sync with the music. He had worked his body and mind too hard for the past few days, and he was beginning to feel it. More than ever, his body felt weak, useless. When this was all over, he would look into taking a vacation.

Finally he arrived at the booth Tetra’s email had directed him to, the same booth they had sat in a week ago, when he had been given his arduous task. She still looked young but confident, small yet strong. She was dressed in exactly the same clothes, wore her hair in exactly the same style. It was as if Thomas had simply walked out and back in immediately, even the unnerving scent of freshly mown hay still clung to her. It took him a few seconds to realize that he was staring.

“Good evening mister Gaelen, I see you’ve found my message…”

“Obviously I have…”

“Did you bring the items?”

“Did you bring the cash?”

Tetra nodded, sliding her slender hand into her purse and extracting a large wad of bills. Thomas looked around alarmed, cursing the girl for foolishly drawing attention to them. Quickly he pulled a crumpled paper bag with the two trappers out of his coat pocket, setting them in front of the money to block it from view. He looked around again, but he could see no sign that anyone had seen the money. Leaning forward a little, Tetra opened the paper bag, staring inside. She then extracted a small device from her purse and ran them over the two trappers. The device let out two soft bleeps, and she put it away again.

“Everything is in order, you have earned your money.”

Thomas nodded and quickly took and pocketed the money. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll be going now…”

“Our business here is concluded.”

“Ehrm… right… bye then…”

Thomas was glad to be away from Tetra’s unnerving presence, and as he hurried across the dance floor he had to jump aside several times to avoid bumping into dancers and drawing attention to himself. Once outside he reached into his pocket, giving the bills there the same treatment he had given the other half of his payment. He rushed out across the rainstorm, hoping he could get home before he was too soaked. Once he had reached his apartment, he headed straight for the bottle of alcohol waiting for him by the kitchen sink. He brought it up to his lips, drinking hungrily, determined to get Tetra out of his system. Half an hour he was slumped down on the couch, reduced to a blissful drunken stupor.

Back in the club, Tetra was left alone, her mind lost in concentration at the music that was playing. Then, suddenly she heard an angry bleeping noise. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and opened the text message. “Deliver the minds, and proceed.” With a sigh of frustration she stuffed the phone back in her purse, reluctant to leave the music behind her. Still, she had no choice to obey. She picked up the paper bag and left the club, somehow walking more slowly than she should have. Outside, a car was waiting for her. It looked a lot like the one that had picked her up last week, but this time it had only come on a delivery run. The darkened window on the passenger side of the vehicle came down, but the interior was dark. Nothing was said, but Tetra simply placed the bag with the trappers inside and walked away. It was time for the second part of her mission.

Tetra walked down the street, she had studied the route to Thomas’ apartment all day and she knew it by heart. As the rain streamed down on her, the music from the club returned to her, invading her senses. It mingled with the soft tinkling of the Doctor’s music box, creating a cacophonic symphony that rang in her head. She stumbled onwards. Thomas Gaelen had to die. Her masters wanted him dead, so Thomas Gaelen had to die. The glass vial she carried in her pocket suddenly seemed searing hot, and Tetra stumbled and missed a step. Still she continued walking, determined to complete her task. She would do as she was asked. She would end a human life… end a human life…

But did she have the right? What gave her the right to end a life? Why should it matter? She only ever did what she was told, and to silence a single junk wouldn’t make the slightest difference in the greater scheme of things… Even as her mind tried to justify murder, her instinct took over. Every time she tried to form a coherent reason to kill Thomas, the chaotic music pushed in, cutting off all her thoughts. Finally she let out an angry sob, storming into a dark alley. Suddenly she pulled the vial with the deadly poison from her pocket and flung it against the wall. The strong crystalline material endured the impact, and it rolled back towards her. With a frustrated cry she brought her heel down hard on the bottle. It shattered under the impact, driving the shards dripping with poison through the thin sole of her shoe. Immediately she stumbled and fell, a searing pain shooting up her leg. The poison should have killed her, but the Chirurgeon had given her body the power to fight it. Still, the fight was very painful, and it took her well over an hour to find the strength to stand up. Shakily she pulled the glassy splinters from her foot, still dripping with the poison. She stumbled back out into the night. She had gone too far. She couldn’t hope to complete her mission now. She had failed. She would be dismantled.

Tetra panicked, but outwardly she remained calm as she walked down the street, looking for some way to save herself. Suddenly, every person she passed was an undercover Facility agent. She had to save herself, she didn’t want to be dismantled. For the first time since her awakening she felt alive, and she was determined to cling to that feeling.

Then she saw the building, a simple white sign perching over a large double door: “Salvation church. Confessions while you wait. Guaranteed clearance of all sins, mortal or venial.” Tetra crossed the street, ignoring the taxi that had to swerve out of the way to avoid running her over. Once inside she noticed a large row of wooden benches, but they were empty, as was the stage at the end. She had to hide. A small booth to the right caught her eye. A curtain was draped across the two small doors. After hesitating shortly, she stepped into the left entrance, sitting down on the wooden bench and drawing the curtains shut. She rested her head against the cool wooden panel, glad to finally be safe. She would hide here forever, listening to the music in her mind. Then, suddenly, a wooden panel to her left slid open, nearly causing her to jump.

“Good evening child…”

Tetra’s mind regained a modicum of clarity. A confessional. She had read about these, she knew what to do. Shaking slightly, she made the sign of the cross as it had been described in the book. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was… long ago…”

“Tell me your sins, child…”

Tetra swallowed hard, but before she realised it her mouth was moving. Forming words. Sentences. In one long cascade of words, she told the priest everything. How she had awoken weeks ago in a cold and sterile room. How they had taken her body and rebuilt her stronger, faster, more deadly. How they had given her a mind, but not a mind of her own. How she had been instructed, trained to do her creator’s bidding. How she had been sent out to kill, but had defied her masters in a brief lapse of insanity.

The priest listened, his mouth agape in disbelief. He had to listen to pranksters and jokers all the time, but there was something about the desperation in this girl’s voice… Finally he found his tongue again. He wasn’t sure what else he could do, but he knew she had to leave his church. He opened his mouth, mechanically repeating the words of absolution and giving Tetra a penance of five Hail Mary’s. “Give thanks to the Lord for He is good…”

Tetra answered automatically. “For His mercy endures, forever.”

“Go with God, child…”

Tetra nodded numbly. There would be no salvation here. She had gotten her hopes up over a two thousand year old puppet show. Still, she muttered the Hail Mary’s as she stumbled back into the rain, simply because it felt right to do so. Still, her salvation would lie elsewhere.

Meanwhile, back in the church, three shadows fell from the rafters. Padded soles landed silently on the tiled floor. The dark figures darted among the pews, circling in on the confessionary. Rounds were fired from silenced barrels, piercing the wood and the curtain of the confessionary and burying themselves in the body of the priest. The old man never knew what hit him. Silently, the Facility’s cleaners darted into the night.

Back to top

With hands that were trembling with panic, the Doctor stuffed books, data discs and research reports in the old duffel bag. His mind still tried to comprehend the data the Chirurgeon had showed him. He couldn’t believe he had been set up for failure. His mind drifted back to Tetra, all alone in the rainy night. He forced himself to ignore the involuntary twinge of sympathy that surged up inside him. There was still a 0,83% chance that she would complete her mission exactly as instructed, but the Doctor never did allow himself to be blinded by hope. If he didn’t get out now, he’d be dead. No, he had to try to leave the Facility. His brilliance was too great to be wasted on a meaningless death.

As the Doctor rushed down the pristine white hallways, all Facility employees seemed to ignore him. Of course, a man with his security clearance was rarely bothered with. As he turned the corner to head for the lift, he wondered if he should go for the Chirurgeon first. After only half a second of thought he decided against it. Her report mentioned nothing that could possibly shift blame on her, and the delay would probably cost him the only chance he had to make good his escape. At the end of the hall, the lift waited for him. He walked as fast as he could, encumbered by arthritis and the bulky duffel bag.

Finally the Doctor felt the cool glass of the elevator’s control panel pressed against the palm of his trembling hand. The cabin quickly zoomed down the shaft until it came to rest at the floor it had been summoned to, doors sliding silently inward to let the frightened old man in. He struggled to regain his composure, knowing that all elevators were monitored by security cameras. The journey down to the garage level seemed agonizingly slow, although it didn’t take any longer than usual. Finally the doors opened, and the Doctor let out a sigh of relief. A sigh that was quickly stifled.

“Going somewhere?”

“Supervisor… I… I…” The Doctor knew he had no choice. The Supervisor’s face was always hard to read, but the very fact that he had bothered to leave his office told him enough. With a trembling hand, the Doctor reached inside his lab coat. He pulled out a small revolver, aiming it somewhere at the Supervisor’s midsection. “I’m afraid I’m quitting, sir…”

The Supervisor smiled. It was a smug grin, one that sent chills down the Doctor’s spine. “Come now Doctor, you haven’t even taken the safety off. I’m afraid we’ll have to discuss this. If you would be so kind to tuck away that peashooter and let me in the elevator…”

The Doctor shook his head, shaking with fear. The Supervisor would never let him live. He tried to get his hand to stop shaking, but managed just barely. Ignoring the Supervisor’s comment about the safety, he squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened. Again he squeezed, but nothing. The Supervisor regarded the Doctor sternly. The old fool hadn’t gave him no choice. He took a step forward, grabbing the hand that was holding the gun. Muscled fingers tightened around the weak hand. A sickening crunching sound echoed in the cavernous garage mingled with a pained whimper. The revolver clattered uselessly to the floor. The Supervisor released the hand, which the Doctor immediately retracted. The young Supervisor took another step forward and took a swing, connecting solidly with the Doctor’s jaw. The old man collided limply against the side of the elevator, sagging to the floor like a rag doll. A trickle of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth. He was barely conscious, but his eyes still went wide with fear when the Supervisor produced a syringe. The young man lightly tapped the needle, as if he was merely administering a flu shot.

“I’m sorry Doctor, but I can’t overlook this treason. However, by the processes you’ve created, you might yet serve us…”

The Doctor desperately tried to move away, but his body just barely responded. He felt the sharp sting of the needle digging into his arm, and something hot seeped into his bloodstream. The last thing he saw was the blurred face of the Supervisor, once again smiling. Then his mind slipped into oblivion, its last thoughts devoted to the horrible fate that would await him.

When the Doctor finally returned to consciousness, he realized to his horror that he couldn’t move. He struggled to open his eyes, but he was blinded by a glaring light that shone directly in his eyes, so he shut them again with a groan. There was a dim throbbing pain in his right hand, the hand that had held the gun. There were straps around his wrists, ankles and waist, but he knew they were a mere formality. His frail, weak and battered body wasn’t going anywhere. Then, suddenly, he could feel a shadow pass over his face, and he forced his eyes open.

The Chirurgeon was staring down on him. There were traces of pity on her face, but the bright glare of the lights behind her hid them from view. Sighing softly she reached up for the wires lying ready on a trolley by her side, attaching them one by one to the electrodes placed across the Doctor’s head. He could just barely feel the pressure, but he knew what was going to happen.

“Please…”

“I’m sorry, old fool, but you and I both know we have very little choice in this…”

“But… you do… you know you do… we can just walk away… please… we worked on Tetra together… you know I deserve better than this…”

“Hush man, you’ve brought this onto yourself.”

“But… how was I supposed to know?”

“You created the process, you forged Tetra’s mind. Her actions and behaviour were your responsibility. The Supervisor already cleared me of all blame. When he had completed his research, I was the first person he ran to. And of course I had no choice but to confirm his findings, about how sloppy your work on Tetra had really been.”

“What? You backstabbing-“

“Sweet dreams, Doctor…”

A jolt of electricity surged through the wires, and immediately the Doctor passed out again, a white haze passing over his vision. The Chirurgeon regarded the old man stoically. She rolled over to a computer console, the wheels of her desk chair squeaking with each revolution. She glanced at the instructions, instructions the Doctor himself had written. A series of commands brought the information she requested up on her screen, a long list of nearly incomprehensible patterns. She could hardly comprehend that out there on the computer screen the entire life of the Doctor was mapped out. Personality, memories, knowledge, all was there. Sighing softly, she set out to work. She would dissect the mind like she had dissected so many bodies, a fine scalpel passing through the tissue, cutting away what wasn’t needed and leaving behind something more functional and efficient. With the final stroke of a key the process started. Electrical impulses were sent through the wires and electrodes into the Doctor’s brain. In a few hours time, he would be little more than a human computer, doing exactly what was asked of him, nothing more, nothing less.

With her first task for the day completed, she set about to do her second. She left the secluded lab and sealed the door behind her. Only she or the Supervisor could open this door. If anyone saw what was going on inside, they would most likely panic, and panic was something that was frowned upon inside the walls of the Facility. She crossed the menagerie to an almost identical room on the other side. It too opened only to her and the Chirurgeon.

Once inside the Chirurgeon quickly headed over to her desk, where two matte-black boxes. Their contents had already been confirmed by one of her assistants. She quickly plugged them in to her terminal, uploading their contents. She ran the program the Doctor had created for her. Manipulating minds wasn’t her strong point, but the Supervisor had insisted that his failure had been irredeemable, and that she would have to continue his tasks. She was determined to show the Supervisor that she could be trusted with such responsibility. She glanced over the long list of requirements that had been written down for her. Preparing a mind for Pentos would require a long and tedious procedure of modifications, until the two minds were forged into one solid whole, perfect in both planning and execution of tactical manoeuvres. Pentos would be the ultimate soldier, the weapon that would assure the Facility’s glorious future. As she worked, she occasionally glanced over to the naked figure lying on the operating table. Pentos looked less and less human, more and more perfect with each day. His metallic eyes stared silently at the ceiling, glinting in the glaring lights of the office, awaiting a spark of life.

“Soon, my child… You will serve the Facility, and you will be glorious…”

Back to top

Thomas smiled as he walked down the street. New boots, a cleaned and stitched up wound, and still a few dollars to spare. For the first time in weeks, Thomas smiled, even though the boots were second hand and the wound was stitched with simple thread in stead of silk. It was still far more luxury than he was used to. Even the weather was dry enough to permit him a cigarette on his walk home.

When Thomas reached the front door he threw away the cigarette bud, rubbing out with the sole of his boot. The inside still smelt faintly of cabbage and urine, but the cigarette smoke numbed his nasal passages enough to block it out. Even the fact that the elevators were out of order didn’t put a dent in his good mood. Compared to what he was used to, his new boots made it feel like he was walking on air.

When Thomas finally reached his floor, something raised his suspicion. The door to his apartment was slightly ajar, even though he was sure he had locked it when he left. If he hadn’t been smoking, he would have smelled the scent of freshly mown hay that hung about the hallway. Now he simply stepped inside, a surge of adrenalin preparing his body for a confrontation with whoever might await him inside.

Kneeling inside the mouldy closet, Tetra peered through a crack in the wood. She could see Thomas stepping into the apartment, glancing around. Earlier that day she had snuck inside, but she had been too panicked and confused to remember to cover her tracks. Still, all was not lost. She held her breath as Thomas crept closer. She would strike him down. She would kill him. She would complete her mission, and then she would beg her superiors for forgiveness. Closer. Closer. Three steps. Two steps. One step. Now. The muscles in her legs uncoiled, and she launched herself forward.

His clothes on the floor, the bottle in the kitchen and his battered and broken furniture, everything seemed to be in place. However, this was not what he was concerned about. The only thing that mattered to him was his Dream machine, which should be tucked away safely in its hidden compartment in the wall. He hurried towards it, cursing himself for wasting his money on trivial things like new clothes and medical care when he might have to replace his machine now. He was so caught up in his panic that he never heard the cracking of the planks in his wardrobe until it was too late.

Clutching to the section of wood that just a moment ago been a wardrobe door Tetra launched herself forward, battering Thomas to the floor. The wood broke on impact and Tetra rode the two pieces to the floor with Thomas trapped underneath. She heard him let out a muffled scream and curse, but she forced herself to ignore it. Die, Thomas Gaelen. Die. You have to die. I will kill you now, and then they will take me back. They will not dismantle me if I kill you, so you will have to die for me.

For his part, Thomas refused to go quietly into the void. Tetra was stronger than he was, but he was heavier and had the advantage of momentum. The moment his shoulders connected with the floor he shifted his weight backwards, throwing his legs up in the air and causing Tetra to loose control of her forward motion. She connected head first with the floor, and she felt something pop in her neck. Immediately her artificial glands responded, releasing endorphins into her bloodstream. However, the process distracted her too long to allow her to prevent Thomas from striking back. He pulled her up roughly by her right arm, using it as a lever to fling her towards the couch. Had she been human, Tetra would have collided with it and probably be knocked out or at least winded by the impact. However, her superior reflexes allowed her to regain control of her forward motion. In stead of stumbling she was now running, and in stead of colliding with the couch she put her foot on it and kicked off, sending her fist first in Thomas’s direction. Her aim was perfect, and the impact landed squarely on his face, cracking his nose and sending him to the floor.

Tetra didn’t relent, landing on top of Thomas and pinning him between her legs. She forced one hand under the back of his head and placed the other on his jaw. One motion. One quick pull would shatter the man’s spine, He would die instantly , and she would be back in good graces with her superiors.

As she tried to command her arms to move, to complete the action, she couldn’t help but stare in her victim’s eyes. She could see fear, and as she struggled to remain in control she felt his warm blood trickle from his nose onto the hand on his jaw. A jaw that was moving, producing a weak, gargling sound.

“Please…”

That single helpless word shattered Tetra’s misguided resolve, and the truth of her situation broke through relentlessly,. The music returned in a chaotic wave of cacophony that washed away the hope that she would ever return to the safety of the Facility’s endless white hallways, leaving behind only the notion that for some reason it would be wrong to take this man’s life. She sobbed hysterically, letting go of Thomas’s head and running back to her hiding place, hoping she would be safe there.

Still groggy from the unexpected blow, Thomas pulled himself back onto his feet. His right leg screamed in protest, the sutures ripped loose from his skin in the struggle. He glanced around wearily, and then he could see Tetra’s feet sticking out from the wardrobe, no longer blocked from view by the door she had used as a battering ram. When he had shaken his head enough to stop the room from spinning he reached down, taking a piece of wood from the floor and clutching it in his right hand as an improvised bat. Quietly he stalked forward, eyeing Tetra’s feet wearily.

For her part, Tetra was completely lost in her mental breakdown. She was huddled up in the foetal position, her hands clamped firmly over her ears as she tried to fight the chaos in her head. Two personalities were waging war upon each other; the cold, merciless killer that had been created by the Doctor and trained inside the Facility and the traces of her old personality, all but erased by the old man’s experiments. She unconsciously tried to hum the lullaby from the music box. The sound of her sobbing hums confused Thomas, and he paused briefly as he walked towards the wardrobe, ready to strike. No. She had tried to kill him, he couldn’t hesitate. In one swift motion he pulled the remaining door open, nearly pulling it from its hinges. In the same breath he brought the piece of wood down on the back of Tetra’s head. She let out a pained cry and fell forward. Immediately Thomas struck again, and this time she fell silent. As he pulled her limp body from the closet, he noticed the strange blue-black fluid trickling out from between her hair. Not human.

Hours later, Tetra awoke. Immediately she felt a throbbing headache, and a pungent stench overwhelmed her senses. Her mouth felt scratchy and dry. She tried to move, but something was holding her back. When she opened her eyes, she could see the blurred outline of a pair of boots. She heard someone say something, but she couldn’t make out the words. She struggled to get up, but the effort almost immediately caused her to slip back into unconsciousness.

She was standing in front of a large wooden door, trembling of fear, a fear that was caused by the paper she held in her hands. Two red numbers chalked down at the top spelled out her doom. 98. To her teacher they had been a simple matter of giving a grade, but to Claudia the two red smears meant imperfection. Still she stood patiently, knowing that she couldn’t hide from her mentor. She would have to be honest with him, as she always was. Finally the buzzer sounded, and the door swung inward. She stepped inside, her feet immediately sinking into the navy-blue carpet. Normally she enjoyed its warmth, but right now she was too nervous for pleasant thoughts. She walked forward slowly, staring at the floor while the figure sitting behind the desk regarded her sternly.

“You’re late, and you seem… afraid. Does this mean what I think it means?”

Claudia nodded quietly, completing the walk up to the desk that seemed like it had lasted for hours. She felt an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, and all she really wanted to do now was run to the nearest bathroom. As she stood there, the figure regarded the paper stoically.

“98? That’s the second time this month. I had hoped you would adjust to your workload better. I’m afraid there will be… consequences…”

Immediately, Claudia let out a fearful sob. Her mentor got up, placing his hand on her shoulder and staring at her with those unreadable eyes. “We’ve been working so hard for you Claudia, why do you keep disappointing us?”

Claudia answered timidly. “I… I don’t know…” She didn’t know. She didn’t know… she didn’t…

Tied up on the floor of Thomas Gaelen’s apartment, Tetra dreamed the nightmares of her lost personality all over again.

Back to top

Behind the safety of three inches of bullet-proof glass, the Supervisor and the Chirurgeon observed Pentos as he danced through the training room, dodging the endless streams of bullets that were flung at him by the machineguns mounted on the wall. He moved about effortlessly, proving that the Chirurgeon had done a perfect job in building him. Even now his creator watched, a strange glint of affection in her eyes.

Meanwhile, the Supervisor was more interested in the report in his hands. It held a series of tactical dilemmas inspired by some of the great battles of human history. Pentos had solved them all within an hour after waking up. Had the construct been in command then, human history would have progressed quite differently indeed. Despite the Doctor’s treason, the reconstruction of Pentos’ mind had been as perfect as the construction of his body. Still, the Supervisor was not a happy man.

The phone call had come in the middle of the night. This irked the Supervisor, who wasn’t used to having his daily routine disturbed, especially if the disturbance meant bad news. The team that had been following Tetra reported that she had had contact with a priest. Furious at their failure to stop Tetra from contacting the outside world he ordered the team to eliminate the priest and intercept the rogue agent. Half an hour later came the second phone call, again with bad news. The team had found Tetra’s tracking device, still covered in the dark fluids that replaced her blood. The serrated lid of a tin can, glinting with the same substance, indicated that she had cut the device out of her arm. The team followed the trail of spatters for about twenty yards, but by that time the wound had been knitted shut and they lost their track. With no idea where she could have gone, the Supervisor had no choice but to dispatch more teams and hope for the best. This was bad. This was very bad. The Facility’s cloak of a medical research institute was flawless, but there were always conspiracy nuts out there just looking for a good story to hunt, and a bio engineered humanoid walking the streets was just such a story. Still, his team was good at what it did, and he doubted Tetra would remain out there for more than a few days.

The Supervisor was pulled from his musings by the sound of a dozen bullets connecting with the glass. He looked up and saw that Pentos was already on the other side of the room, still moving. The glass had barely been dented. As he turned his eyes to the report again, the Chirurgeon spoke up.

“Have the cleaners returned Tetra yet?”

“No, not yet. There appears to be a… slight delay.”

The Chirurgeon nodded, hesitating for a second before asking another question. “Do you think it was a mistake to send her out?”

The Supervisor’s eyes shot daggers at the Chirurgeon. “Are you questioning me?”

Instinctively, the Chirurgeon regressed to the role of sycophant. “Of course not sir, I was merely wondering why-“

The Supervisor bit back angrily, showing far more emotion than the Chirurgeon was used to from him. “Why? You’re not hired to bother with the whys of how this place is run!” The Supervisor found some relief in the fact that raising his voice still had the effect it always had. The Chirurgeon had almost visibly shrunk, her eyes fixed on Pentos again.

Why? Because he needed more research data. Because he trusted the cleaners that followed Tetra to follow the mission parameters he had set out for them. Because he hadn’t expected the girl to be smart enough to cut into her own arm to dig out the tracking device. Because he had thought the Doctor’s work had been more professional than this. The Supervisor knew that parts of Tetra’s old personality still remained, but the Doctor had assured him those parts had been buried.

With an angry sigh, the Supervisor shoved the reports back in the Chirurgeon’s arms before turning on his heels and leaving the observatory. He walked through the halls to his private elevator, which took him directly to his office. The doors slid away, revealing the luxurious room beyond. The room felt warmer, more alive than any other space in the Facility. More organic. Still, the room was just as sterile, and the Supervisor only allowed himself the luxury because it made him feel more comfortable, allowing him to work and think faster.

As soon as the Supervisor let himself sink into the large leather chair, the terminal came to life. Each of the teams had sent in a report each fifteen minutes just as they had been ordered, but a quick glance at their subject lines told him that Tetra hadn’t been located yet. He shut down the program and accessed the Facility’s security cameras. He opened camera #392, a room deep inside the menagerie. The Doctor still lay strapped to the table. If it wasn’t for the occasional twitch of an eye and the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest, the old man might as well have been dead. In a few hours the process would be completed, and the Doctor would be little more than a computer. All useful knowledge would have been preserved, along with a basic comprehension of the English language. A feeding tube would be installed, and a machine would take over the functions of the heart and the lungs. To all intents and purposes, the Doctor would simply be a living computer.

The Supervisor watched the screen for a few more minutes before shutting it off. The only matter that required his direct attention was Tetra, but there was very little he could do about the situation from his office. The full cleaning staff of the Facility was out there, and with the government’s new anti-terrorism laws there would be no way she could leave the city. If she hadn’t been found in three days, he would start calling in favours. In four days she would be dead, nothing but an unpleasant memory. The Supervisor pulled up a notepad and a pen, and started scribbling. However, halfway down the page the pen left nothing more than dry grooves. Close inspection revealed that it was empty. Sighing softly, the Supervisor discarded the empty pen in the waste bin and reached inside the top drawer of his desk for a new one.

A brief flash, just a glance, caused the Supervisor to throw the drawer shut in horror. He was sure he had gotten rid of it… Slowly, almost fearfully, he pulled the drawer open again. It had just been his imagination. Still, now that he had seen it the image wouldn’t go away. The picture of the young girl, not a day over fifteen, smiling softly, a thin, angular face framed by long strands of black hair, wire frame glasses lining her eyes. No. Just his imagination. She was a memory. She would be a memory. It was just a matter of time. For all his investments in her, she was still a failure. Always one step behind. The Supervisor sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned back into his luxurious chair. All too often these days he was hindered by incompetence, and it was beginning to wear on his nerves.

“Are you sure she is what you make her out to be?”

“How many girls do you know that could name every single bone in the human skeleton at the age of four?”

“Again I’m trusting your word, but I’ll need more evidence before taking her in…”

“Her grades-“

“Her grades prove nothing. No… I’ve set up a test of my own.”

A button was pushed, and a wall in the back of the room slid away quietly. Behind it was what appeared to be a small laboratory, with all the basic instruments that could be expected and a large collection of reagents. The Supervisor smiled as the girl behind the glass read the note.

“What are you doing?”

“Quite simple. During our breakfast I’ve had your tea spiked with a mild neurotoxin. Your little prodigy has exactly two hours to work out an antidote. If she succeeds, she stays. If she fails, we’ll send her back, and you’ll be… fired, I suppose…”

The man sputtered a request, but the Supervisor ignored it. His associate knew the price of failure, and he also knew that the Supervisor always had ways to investigate opportunities for investment. Finally he settled to watch Claudia’s progress through the one way mirror. She had read the note, and without showing any outside signs of distress she had begun to work.

“Does she… did the note say why she’s making the antidote?”

The Supervisor gave a light chuckle. “Of course it did. A little pressure never hurt anybody… Besides, compared to what we’re expecting of her, this is child’s play…”

“Well she is just a child…”

“You didn’t seem to care about that when you brought her to me…”

“Of course sir, but you have to understand-“

The Supervisor gave an angry wave with his hand, and his associate shut his mouth immediately, slumping down on one of the metal chairs that was standing besides the mirror. As he sat down, he noticed that his hands were trembling slightly. Whether it was from the tension of the moment or from the supposed neurotoxin he had been poisoned with he did not know, but both possibilities greatly worried him. Behind the mirror, Claudia worked as quickly as she could. She had been told that she would have to complete a test, that she had to prove that she was worthy of the education that would be offered to her here. She was a bit annoyed at the little story of someone actually being poisoned. She thought that by now the grown-ups would have realized that she didn’t care for stories, only the simple facts. Still, they had told her that this institution was leading the field of medical research, and the tour they had given her had impressed her very much. If she could follow her education here, it would be her way out. All she had to do was complete this relatively simple test…

The Supervisor grimaced at the memory. It left a sour taste in the back of his mouth. Such waste… Maybe one of these days, when Tetra had been collected, Thomas Gaelen had been killed and Pentos had been put to work in the field, he would ask the Chirurgeon to cut it from his mind.

Back to top

In a cold, wet scream, Tetra awoke. Her eyes snapped open as she inhaled deeply, but something was blocking her mouth and she nearly blacked out. In a blind panic she thrashed around on the floor, until the pain in her joints and the throbbing in her head almost overwhelmed her. Finally she forced herself to calm down, breathing deeply through her nose. She nearly gagged from the smell, but it was the only way she could breathe.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed your beauty sleep, but you’ve been napping for two days now and I’ve been dieing to get some answers out of you.”

Two days? Tetra struggled to remember, to understand, but everything had fallen to pieces. Loud, angry pieces that snapped at her when she tried to put them together. The club, the music… pain… the church… cutting into her arm… more pain… Claudia? She didn’t understand. She noticed a pair of feet pacing around, periodically entering and leaving her field of vision. Slowly something trickled back. She was… she was in Thomas Gaelen’s apartment. Thomas was the one talking to her, walking around. He was the one that had tied her down, because he was the one she had tried to kill. Finally an answer formed in her mind, but as she tried to speak it something forced the words back. Then, a hand came down on her, and something was pulled roughly from her mouth. Cold air rushed in, causing a stinging sensation to pass along her throat. She lapsed into a coughing fit that lasted for several seconds. It took her a few more seconds to refind her train of thought, but finally she managed an answer.

“I… I was sent… I came…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it.

“To kill me? To strike me down when I wasn’t looking? To snap my neck?”

“They sent me to-“

“They? Who is this ‘they’? Is it the same ‘they’ whose purposes it served to drag me to Wonderland? For that matter, who are you? What are you? What kind of inhuman freak are you!?”

As Thomas yelled at her, Tetra felt like she was shrinking. A cold fear overwhelmed her, the same fear she experienced back in the Facility, when she first thought she was malfunctioning. It was the fear of being dismantled. The fear of being killed. She couldn’t see Thomas fully, but she instinctively knew that he was holding something that would allow him to kill her without second thought.

“Please… don’t-“

“Kill you? You certainly tried to kill me, why shouldn’t I kill you? It wouldn’t really be murder would it? You’re not human, you’re a monster!”

“I am… I was… human…”

“Really? Tell me then, what are you now?”

A… a… the Doctor and the Chirurgeon had called her a construct enhanced by bio-engineering technologies. A sterile, cold, effective name for a sterile, cold, effective being. Now she was none of the three. The wounds on her arm and head were dry and covered in filth. Erratic emotions invaded her thoughts at every step and turn. She couldn’t move any more than she could think straight.

“I… I’m… malfunctioning…”

Thomas was puzzled by Tetra’s choice of words. Malfunctioning? She made it sound as if she was some sort of robot, a machine. Still, she bled, she breathed, she had a pulse. Yet her behaviour during their meetings in the club had seemed… mechanical. A living machine? An android? He had never heard of this kind of technology, yet she seemed to be living proof of its existence. With no idea what else he could do, he decided to call her on it.

“Well then, I suppose I should get you repaired, shouldn’t I? I’ll call-“

“No!”

From the moment the possibility that Tetra might work outside the Facility was considered? One thing had been made very clear: secrecy above all. If people on the outside became aware of her existence or the existence of the Facility, there would be severe consequences. No. She had already been compromised. First by the foolish confession she had made in her blind panic, and then by entering the apartment. She had to get away, she had to hide. They would come looking for her. They knew the address to the apartment, and she knew the Facility would send others to finish her mission. If they found her here, tied down on the floor…

“No… please… they’ll come… they’ll kill us both…”

“Again with the ‘they’? I still don’t know who or what you’re talking about.”

“They… they who built me… who trained me… who made me work for them. They sent me to kill you, and now that I’ve failed, they’ll send others…”

“Other… things like you?”

Tetra thought for a moment, but decided not to tell Thomas about Pentos. She knew her big brother would never be sent out. “Soldiers… I was an experiment… I’m unique…”

Tetra was unique. Unique. Like no other. The thought struck her suddenly. She was alone, astray. She had nowhere to go, she didn’t belong. The Facility wouldn’t take her back, but she couldn’t stay outside either. The glands in the corners of her eyes released more fluids. Glistening droplets ran down delicate cheeks. Thomas watched her, and as he did he noticed that the makeup he thought se was wearing wasn’t running. Could it be? Quietly he kneeled down in front of her, pressing a calloused thumb against her face and rubbing it roughly against her. She winced, but didn’t stop crying. Thomas inspected his thumb, and to his horror he saw that it came away clear. She wasn’t wearing makeup. Whoever had made her had made her as pale as a corpse. He brought his hand down again, pressing the palm against her forehead. She was as cold as a corpse too. As he watched her she suddenly opened her mouth, stammering between sobs.

“P-please… Claudia… Claudia is… thirsty?

Thomas her in the eyes, confused. “Claudia? Who is Claudia?”

“Claudia… I am… I was Claudia… Tetra now… but… Claudia wants to… wants to come back… she is… I am… thirsty…”

Thomas nodded and got up, leaving Tetra’s field of view to head into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, trying to straighten his thoughts, trying to figure out what the hell it was that he had tied down on his floor. She had told him that she was an artificial life form, that she had been made by someone he still only knew as ‘they’. They, who supposedly were going to kill her, to kill them both. Could he trust her? Believe her? No, of course not. She was a freak, a monster, an artificial schizophrenic android-zombie. The thought of someone creating a humanoid stirred something deeply disturbing in the back of his mind, a childhood memory he had tried to tuck away safely, away from view. He saw himself, just nine years old, crawling through the hole in the fence and into the bushes. They were still glistening with spring rain and he soon was cold and wet, but it would be worth it. The view was supposed to be perfect. Quietly he crawled along, bathed in the bright red glare of row upon row of taillights.

Then, the large screen came into view. He could see the movie perfectly, a tall, dark-haired man in a lab coat locked in fervent discussion with a short, balding hunchback. Young Thomas had no idea what the movie was about but he just sat there and smiled, letting his imagination fill in the gaps. Then, a strange sort of table came into view. A burly, muscled man was tied down on it, long lines of stitches running seemingly randomly all over his exposed skin. More discussion, a thunderstorm, a thrown switch. Suddenly the music shifted, louder, heavier, as if to warn the audience of their impending doom. A bright light surged through the wiring that ran along the room, into the device with the thrown switch, and then further along until it impacted with the man tied down at the end of the contraption. The figure remained twitching for several seconds before a low growl escaped his throat. The camera shifted to his face as his eyes opened. Eyes that gleamed with a vicious malice, staring straight at Thomas. Then, he began to rise. At that point Thomas had already stopped looking. He was on the verge of tears, his breathing fast and laboured as he crawled back out through the hole, to safety.

With a jolt, Thomas was pulled out of his reverie, and he quickly filled a cracked cup with water from the tap, adding a healthy drop of the alcoholic substance in the bottle besides the sink to disinfect it, something that had become more and more necessary over the past few years. When he carried it back to Tetra, she seemed to have fallen asleep again, and he didn’t dare wake her up out of fear that she would somehow rip through the ropes that bound her and bite his throat out just as he let his guard down. In stead he set the glass down besides her for her to find when she would wake up again. After he had checked to see that the ropes were still secure around her ankles and wrists, he left the apartment. The scent that still hung around Tetra had nauseated him, and he needed a breath of fresh smog to clear his mind. When he got back, he’d decide what to do about the… thing in his apartment. As he limped down the street, reaching into his coat for a cigarette, he didn’t notice the van when he walked past it. However, the van’s driver, hidden behind tinted glass, certainly noticed him, and when Thomas disappeared around the corner he grabbed his phone, leaving a quick message on an anonymous voicemail box. Then he leaned back in his chair, waiting for the reply to come, for the order to move in.

Back to top

Everything was going so well, yet so wrong at the same time. Pentos was still performing up to expectations, and it seemed that the plans he had for the Doctor would work out. Still, the Supervisor was not a happy man. There was a thorn in his side, a thorn that proved to be too smart to simply be picked up and pulled out. The cleaners had found no trace of Tetra, even though they had checked all places she could logically have gone. The Supervisor grimaced. The simplest solution would be to send Pentos in to sweep the city district by district, but the grafts he needed to leave the Facility without causing a panicked riot were still under construction. All the money in the world couldn’t cure the incompetence he had to endure. He simply couldn’t move forward until he was sure Tetra was removed.

And then there was the matter of Thomas Gaelen, the man who simply knew too much. Luckily that matter would be resolved soon enough. Although he didn’t want to draw manpower away from the hunt for Tetra, the Supervisor had given one team of cleaners instructions to visit the man’s apartment and get rid of him. Conveniently enough, the building stood in one of the poorest districts of the city, which meant that it would be easy enough to eliminate any unforeseen witnesses without too many awkward questions being raised. A message popped up on his screen, a new voicemail message. With a short vocal command the computer was instructed to play it.

“We’re in position. The target left his apartment.”

The Supervisor recognized the voice. It was one of the field commanders. The Supervisor smiled. They would be back on their mission soon enough. He picked up a receiver, and without dialling a number it made contact. The phone on the other side rung once before it was picked up. The voice on the other end of the line was the same voice that had left the message.

“Move in, surprise him in his apartment. It should be empty. Eliminate any witnesses, I’ll handle the fallout.”

The voice didn’t answer but simply broke the connection. The Supervisor knew that soon enough Thomas Gaelen’s existence would be ended. It was a trivial matter, but at least he could take comfort in the fact that some things still worked as they should.

Inside the black van, the commander surveyed the streets, and then the windows. Nobody was watching them. Go. Four men left the van through various exits, quickly darting across the streets and into the building. They were dressed as civilians, although they all had rifles hidden under their coats. They quickly made their way up the stairs, counting the floors as they went. Three… four… five… They darted out into the hallway, taking position by one of the doors. A series of quick hand signals and nods. One of the men reached over, carefully pushing the door inward. It wasn’t locked. He signalled to his colleagues and stepped inside. None of the men were prepared for what would happen next.

Tetra lay on the filthy floor, struggling not to panic. She had slipped in and out of consciousness several times over the past two hours, but now she had heard something in the vibrations of the floor that left her wide awake. Four men coming up the stairs, men trained in killing judging from the even rhythm of their footsteps. Men trained by the Facility. They had come for her. Instinctively, the artificial glands that were grafted into her heart released large amounts of adrenaline into her bloodstream. A red haze seemed to pass over her vision. Even though she was slowly reverting back to Claudia, Tetra was still very much alive within her and now that would save both their lives. Even though she was bound at hands and feet she would fight. Silently she slithered over to the door and carefully pushed herself upright. She held her breath, waiting patiently, the approaching footsteps just barely audible over the throbbing of her heart.

None of the men were prepared for what would happen next. Something swung up from the murky shadows, catching the first cleaner directly in the throat. He let out a gargling wail and slumped to the floor. Immediately the other men pulled out their rifles. As soon as the second cleaner had brought his weapon out, it was yanked roughly from his hands, clattering to the floor. Before he could react he was twisted around roughly, and something caught around his throat. He struggled for a moment, but a steely knee was driven into his spine and he fell limp. His body didn’t stop moving however. In stead, he was shoved forward roughly, barrelling into his colleagues. Momentarily hindered by the limp body pushed against him, the other two cleaners were forced to retreat.

They never made it to the door. The arms turned over, launching the lithe figure over the body she was driving forward. She kicked off against the ceiling, forcing her hands hard into the face of the third cleaner. She snatched his weapon clumsily with one hand and rolled off him. The rifle’s silencer whispered. The fourth cleaner crumpled to the floor. His kevlar vest had stopped the bullets aimed at his chest, but his civilian outfit didn’t come with a helmet so his throat and face were riddled with bullets. Tetra had taken out all four cleaners but there was still fire in her veins. Two of them were actually dead, one of a broken spine and the other of a bullet to the skull. The other two were still breathing although one was slowly suffocating, unable to breathe through the crushed cartilage of his throat.

There was still fire in Tetra’s veins, and she was breathing hard. Claudia was completely repressed for the moment, and it wasn’t until almost an hour later that she regained some control of herself. At that point she was sitting on the top of the only cleaner she had left more or less alive. Somewhere in the struggle her adrenaline-boosted muscles had pulled the ropes around her wrists to tatters and now she was pounding away her frustration at the cleaner’s face. When the man finally expired her arms and face were covered in blood, and she was breathing like she had just sprinted a mile. In the end the adrenaline wore off, and she slumped to the floor. The moment she had nothing more to fight, nothing more to kill, Claudia came back and overwhelmed her. A single tear rolled down her face.

Back in the Facility, the Supervisor growled in rage, staring at the four transmitters of the cleaning team he had sent out to kill Thomas Gaelen. An alarm had sounded thirty minutes ago, but he had ignored it as he was busy discussing the specifications of an arm graft for Pentos with the Chirurgeon. Now he was back in his office, just in time to see the last signal blink out. All four were dead. Had Gaelen killed them? Of course not, the man was a junk, he wouldn’t have a chance even if he was the one with a rifle trying to ambush the cleaners. Some gang or another? No, they were barely active in this part of town and even they didn’t have the firepower to take his cleaners down, they were too well trained.

One painful possibility remained. Tetra. Of course. He had crossed out the possibility that she would seek shelter with Gaelen pretty early, but now it seemed that he had been wrong. He had been wrong. The very thought left a bad taste in his mouth, which he had to ignore for the moment. He slumped back in his enormous desk chair, struggling to gather his thoughts. Finally he reached over to the keyboard, typing in a few short lines of text and hitting the enter key. The location of Tetra was sent out to all other cleaning teams, but judging from their location in the city it would take at least an hour for the closest team to get to her. No, he needed something else as well. Still struggling to keep his temper he stepped into his private elevator, riding it down to the menagerie. As soon as the doors slid open he marched straight to the Chirurgeon’s office.

The Chirurgeon was just tinkering with some experimental body part for Pentos when the Supervisor pulled her away from her work. “Give Pentos the human leg grafts and get him into his suit, he’s going outside.

“But-“

“No buts! Tetra is out there, and she’s killing our men! Get Pentos moving!”

“But… we haven’t tested the legs and I think-“

The sentence was cut in half by a sharp backhand, sending the Chirurgeon staggering backwards, almost knocking over the chair she had been sitting on. When she spoke again, she sounded a lot more humble. “Of course… I’ll get working on it right away… He’ll be ready to go out within the hour…”

The Supervisor turned his back on the Chirurgeon and left, marching back to his elevator that would take him back to his office, his sanctuary. She quickly wiped away the trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth and walked out into the menagerie. By the time the other employees could see her, she had already regained her composure, looking as cold and powerful as ever. She retrieved a metallic case from one of the vaults and headed to her private lab where Pentos lay dormant. With expert precision she quickly detached his kangaroo-like legs and attached the ones that allowed him to walk like a human. They were weak, inefficient things that severely limited his speed and dexterity, but they allowed him to operate under the guise of being human.

When the legs were attached properly the Chirurgeon pulled out a clothes rack. The garments were tailored to fit Pentos to the millimetre. At that point he had already woken up, and after he had gone through the usual start-up diagnostics the Chirurgeon gave him his mission. Pentos simply nodded with every point she made, he already knew what to do and what was waiting for him. When he left the Menagerie he was donned in a large leather trench coat that covered all his metallic body parts. His face was concealed behind a simple latex mask. The Chirurgeon shook her head as she watched him go. For the first time in well over a decade of faithful service, she questioned the Supervisor’s judgement.

Back to top

Part 15

Thomas sighed as he made his way up the stairs. The wound in his leg still ached, but alcohol numbed it for the moment. His hands were trembling slightly, an indication of the fact that his body needed something stronger than alcohol. With Tetra tied up in his apartment for the past few days, he hadn’t had much time for Dreaming and it was beginning to affect his body and his mind, warping his perception in very inconvenient ways and causing random lapses in his concentration.

Finally Thomas reached his floor. He couldn’t help but let out a groan when he saw that the door to his apartment was open again. Had Tetra somehow managed to break free and get out? He wouldn’t really mind, considering all the trouble she had caused him over the past few days. Still, if the security patrols somehow traced her back to him… With a weary sigh Thomas stepped inside, only to trip and stumble over a corpse. He went down with a scream. When he looked up he was stunned to find three more corpses littering his living room, along with several expensive automatic weapons. Pale as a ghost he crept further into his apartment, his mind trying to comprehend the situation. Then he heard the sobbing. The sobbing he would recognize anywhere by now.

Tetra was huddled up in the closet again, sobbing quietly. Her arms, face and clothes were covered in a mix of blood and tears. The ropes around her wrists were torn to shreds, although the ones binding her ankles together were still intact. The skin around them was red with friction. It didn’t take Thomas too much effort to put two and two together. It looked like Tetra was right, someone had come for them. Someone with enough firepower to wipe out the entire building it seemed. Finally he knelt down besides Tetra, carefully tapping her on the shoulder, ready to defend himself should she choose to attack. She didn’t. She just remained there, sobbing, completely oblivious to Thomas’s attempts to communicate with her. He shrugged. She could sit there if she wanted, he was getting out of here before anyone else came looking for them.

First he headed over to the secret compartment in the wall, pulling out his Dream machine. He couldn’t tow the entire contraption along, but he detached the ichor tank and stuffed it into a worn courier bag along with his laptop. He thought for a moment before picking up one of the weapons as well. He couldn’t carry it past the security stations at the edges of the district but while there was still the possibility that he was chased by anonymous bad guys wielding the same rifles he didn’t want to be caught off guard. He pulled a fresh clip from one of the men’s belts and replaced the spent one with a dry click. At the sound of the click Tetra snapped from her trance, trembling as she looked at Thomas.

“You… you’re leaving Claudia…”

“Yup, can’t live in an apartment littered with corpses… you’re on your own kid.”

“But… Claudia doesn’t want to be alone… she’s afraid… please take me along, you have to! Please!”

Thomas looked at Tetra and saw she was bordering on hysteria. He bit his lip, considering his options. She was an unstable inhuman monster, but she had also been able to kill four men with her hands and feet tied together. If the people that were after them really were as dangerous as she said they were, Thomas needed all the help he could get, and at the very least she could catch some bullets for him.

“Alright, but you’ll have to clean yourself up first. If those crazy clothes won’t get us arrested, the blood on you will.”

“Will you take me along? Really?”

“I will, now get yourself in the shower and get yourself clean. Afterwards you can get into some clothes from these guys. They’ll be a poor fit but at least you’ll stand out less.”

Tetra nodded, crawling out of her hiding place in the closet. Without warning or shame she ripped her clothes off as she went, catching Thomas completely off guard as she disappeared into the bathroom. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it before pulling together a set of clothes from the corpses, leaving them on the threshold of the bathroom door for Tetra. A few minutes later she emerged, clean and wearing the ill-fitting civilian clothes of the cleaners. She walked over to one of the bodies and stooped down to pick up one of the rifles, only to be stopped by Thomas.

“You already tried to kill me once, I’m not taking any chances. You’re coming unarmed.”

Tetra looked confused. “But… I… I need to defend myself… us…”

“You can defend us with your bare hands, you seem to be good enough at it. If you reach for that gun again I’ll shoot you myself.”

Tetra sighed and hung her head in defeat. “I… I will come unarmed then.”

Thomas nodded, indicating that Tetra should follow him and heading down the stairs. Once they were outside he grabbed her rather roughly by her arm, keeping her pinned besides him as they walked down the street at an even pace. “I’m taking us to a friend’s place, we can hide there. I’ll make up my mind on what to do with you later, right now we just need to get there alive.

Tetra nodded, indicating that she understood. She clamped onto Thomas, partly because she didn’t want them to seem suspicious as they walked down the street, partly because something deep down inside her was desperate for anything that felt even remotely safe. The wind howled through the street as they walked. The feeling of a gun pressing into one side and Tetra pressing into the other made Thomas feel uneasy, and he couldn’t help but occasionally glancing over his shoulder nervously. The streets were mostly quiet, but he doubted it would stay that way for long.

Near the end of the street they turned into a small alley. Apartment buildings towered up on either side, blocking almost all sunlight. As they made their way past heaps of garbage and sleeping homeless persons, the squealing of tires could be heard in the distance. In a quick reflex Thomas reached for his weapon, but Tetra reassured him that it wasn’t a Facility vehicle. Although he wasn’t entirely sure if she was right, Thomas decided to trust her for the moment, realizing that he was probably better off with Tetra on his side than without her for the moment. The smell of garbage smouldering in the afternoon heat made him want to vomit, but his stomach was empty so he didn’t manage more than a few half-hearted retches.

“If you are ill, you should seek shelter soon…”

Thomas looked up at the sound of Tetra’s voice and shook his head. “I’ll be… I’ll be alright. My friend will help me cure myself, and maybe he’ll let you have a turn too…”

“What… what do you mean? I am functioning normally at the moment…”

“You’ll see… you’ll see…”

Tetra sighed and decided not to ask again. She just wanted to be off the streets. There appeared to be plenty of holes they could crawl into, but she had received plenty of instruction on how dangerous the impoverished parts of the city were. Indeed, this very part of the city was rumoured to be so dangerous that suicidal security officials would walk in to get killed so that their families wouldn’t lose the compensation for losing a relative in the line of duty. She couldn’t see anyone, but she could feel that they were being watched by hungry eyes. Goosebumps crawled up her skin and she let out an involuntary shiver. She tried to comfort herself with the thought that she could easily fight off petty criminals and robbers, but she knew that wasn’t their only problem.

Again they turned into an alleyway, this one darker than the one before. Still, Thomas seemed confident enough and she doubted if she had any choice but to stay close to him. At the end of the alley was a door, a large, metallic thing. The green paint was faded and worn, and it looked like it hadn’t been opened in quite a while. Still, when Thomas placed his hand against it and pushed against it it swung inwards with the painful groan of rusty hinges. They were in some sort of stairwell. Tetra could swear she heard echoing footsteps but they were small, scurrying. Thomas made no indication of having heard them but started climbing the stairs.

The stairway to the third floor appeared to be missing entirely, but before Tetra could say anything about it Thomas steered her roughly into a hallway. The scurrying sound got stronger, and by now Tetra was sure Thomas had to hear it too. It seemed to be confirmed in the fact that he was beginning to show small physical signs of discomfort.

“Are you sure this is safe? I can hear-”

“The children, yes, I can hear them too. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, they’ll be docile enough… and if they do start to cause trouble we’ll always have the cannon…”

“Cannon? What are you talking about?”

“What? Oh, of course, the gun under my coat… it’s just a metaphor…”

Tetra nodded a little. She wasn’t sure if Thomas was right about the children being docile, but she was fairly sure that she could handle them if they were just children. Besides, delaying Thomas probably was a bad idea. It had been two hours since she killed the first cleaner and she was sure the Supervisor had taken action by now. She glanced out at the street through a hole in the wall but saw no sign of their typical black vans, or any other kind of vehicle the Facility might use to transport them. It eased her mind just a little. The room beyond the door at the end was cavernous, and much brighter than the hallway beyond it, stretching down to ground level. They had emerged onto a rusty metal walkway that stretched along the wall with no visible means of getting down.

The floor beyond was a chaotic mass of small huts and shacks, composed of all sorts of materials ranging from scraps of wood and cloth to metal plates and even windows with cracked and dirty glass in them. Small shadowy figures darted among them. The centre of the floor was taken up with a building that seemed a bit larger than the rest, and was made entirely of mismatched brickwork. Tetra gazed out, quite amazed by the city within the building. Thomas grinned at her amazement.

“Like it? Welcome to Muripolis, City of Rats.”

As if on cue two dozen children crawled out from their hovels, climbing onto the walls and pillars with no visible effort. Within half a minute they were on the walkway, surrounding Thomas and Tetra. They were dressed in rags, and they all wore some kind of face paint or jewellery that seemed to symbolize the rodents they had named themselves after. Some of the older kids had even made crude attempts at scarring and other permanent forms of modifying their body. They all squatted or crouched, moving as if they hadn’t walked upright in years. Most of them were armed with wicked looking clubs and knives made from chunks of wood, rock or shards of glass. They eyed Thomas and Tetra suspiciously for a few moments before a burly, buck-toothed girl emerged from the throng, idly brandishing what appeared to be a broken baseball bat with several rusty nails driven through it. Thomas did his best attempt at a friendly smile as he sunk to his knees in front of the girl, trying his best to seem harmless as he tried to make eye contact.

“Hello Scipula… think you can offer me and my friend a room for a night or two?”

The girl shook her head. “That’s not for me to decide, you’ll have to ask for the leader. You know the way down…”

Then the girl snapped her fingers, and the children on one side of the walkway parted to let Thomas and Tetra through. As if by magic someone had brought up a worn and frayed rope and tied it to the safety rail that ran along the latticework. Muttering a quick prayer to no god in particular, Thomas grabbed the rope and carefully lowered himself. Once both feet were safely on the floor, he called out for Tetra to do the same.

For her part, the construct simply leapt over the railing. Her enhanced physical structure easily absorbed the impact from the fifteen feet drop, and she dusted herself off lightly. Thomas let out a loud groan. Tetra’s little acrobatic feat hadn’t gone unnoticed, and it would make things a lot more complicated for them. Still, for the moment he had no choice but to make his way to the brick house in the middle of Muripolis and hope for the best.

Back to top

Part 16

The Supervisor regarded the sterile thing in the middle of the room quietly. He couldn’t help but feel proud of his new creation, the first computer built from a human body, powered by a human mind. The possibilities seemed nearly limitless. In a sense he had invented artificial intelligence, although the word ‘artificial’ didn’t seem entirely appropriate in this case.

Sitting in the centre of the room was a metal cocoon. A glass panel in the door revealed that it was filled with an opaque crimson fluid. Suspended in the middle of it, just barely visible, was what was left of the Doctor, now striped of every inch of tissue not needed to breathe or think. If someone would drain the fluid, all that would be visible was a human torso and head, stripped of all skin and muscle. Simple machines kept the organs stable and active, pumping oxygen and nutrients into the body as needed. The head was relatively untouched, although the nerves leading to the eyes, ears and nose had been severed and a series of sockets had been placed in the back of the head. The surgery needed to put them in place had been so delicate that the Supervisor had decided to place them himself. The Chirurgeon could probably have done it as well, but her attitude towards her work had been less than perfect for the past few days, and denying her this assignment had sent a clear message.

In his mind the Supervisor had playfully codenamed Project #A4120 the Sarcophagus, although he was quite aware of the fact that that name was inaccurate. It was time to see if the thoroughly stripped body and mind of the Doctor would function as they were expected to. If they did, the Supervisor had managed to preserve one of the most brilliant minds in the history of the Facility without having to worry about thoughts of treachery. If they didn’t, he would have wasted a marginal amount of time and resources on an educative experiment.

At the point where the Doctor’s spine joined his skull several cables exited the body in a bundle as thick as a human wrist. The cables ran directly into the wall of the Sarcophagus, connecting the Doctor’s brain to a more mundane piece of equipment. Two cables emerged from the back end of the Sarcophagus, snaking across the ceramic tiles and up to a small metallic desk where one disappeared into a monitor and another into a keyboard, both made of the same matte black metal as the sarcophagus.

The Supervisor slowly let his body sink into the chair behind the desk, relishing the moment. He was an inventor at heart, and the feeling of standing on the threshold of a new breakthrough always thrilled him. Slowly, he brought his fingers up to the keyboard. “Initialise Doctor_01”. The green letters shone brightly against the black background. Enter. A small bleep of recognition sounded from a hidden speaker in the back of the monitor. The command send a maelstrom of data back and forth between the monitor and the Sarcophagus.

Doctor_01 initialised.
Vital signs stable.
Neural patterns stable.
Loading command protocols ………… Command protocols loaded.

One by one the lines appeared. Everything seemed to be functioning normally. When the cursor finally appeared, the Supervisor resisted the urge to immediately push his new toy to the limits. In stead he ran the first in a long line of analysis programs. As the hours ticked away line after line, page after page of sensor readings and data analysis rolled past the screen so fast that even the Supervisor had trouble keeping up with it. After about thirty minutes he was convinced that everything seemed to be in order. He shut the Sarcophagus down, deciding that it was time to put work before pleasure. Pentos would have reached Thomas Gaelen’s apartment by now, and he wanted to be there when the first transmissions came in. He needed to know what had happened to his cleaners.

The private elevator whizzed up quietly, taking the Supervisor from his private workspace to his office. He swept in quickly, ignoring a fresh stack of weekly reports that had just been delivered. In stead he turned his attention to his computer terminal, initiating the direct link to Pentos. At once the world opened up to him as viewed through Pentos’ bionic eyes.
He could see the construct as he made his way up the stairs of the apartment building. The wood groaned under his weight. He reached the third floor in a matter of seconds. The door to Thomas Gaelen’s apartment was just slightly ajar. Pentos switched to his infrared vision. There were four bodies inside, glowing a dim blue, indicating that the bodies were slowly cooling down. Thomas and Tetra obviously weren’t there. Still Pentos stepped inside, directed to collect clues that would lead the Facility to their whereabouts.

As he stepped over the bodies Pentos analysed their injuries and damage to the surrounding, quickly reconstructing the brief struggle that had left the four men dead. He came to the conclusion that Tetra had indeed been responsible for the attack. When he had completed his scan of the room he picked up the bodies, carrying them off into the bedroom so that they wouldn’t be found by curious neighbours.

After a quick scan of the room that yielded nothing useful, Pentos went back to search the rest of the apartment. In the bathroom he found what he was looking for, a pile of synthetic silk clothes, the garments that Tetra had been wearing. He tore off a strip and brought it up through his nose, drawing air through a series of artificial membranes that gave his nose the sensitivity of a bloodhound.

With his first objective completed, Pentos waited patiently for his next command from the Facility. The Supervisor wasted no time, immediately ordering Pentos to follow the trail. Pentos replied with perfect obedience, leaving the apartment. As he stood in the hallway he drew in the air, trying to draw out the scent he was looking for. After a few minutes he found it, but it was very faint. Still, it was enough to follow, so Pentos did just that.

Meanwhile, in another room in the Facility, the Chirurgeon let out a long and weary sigh as she tried to force her eyes to focus on the long lines of equations. They disobeyed her. She tried to blame her lack of concentration on the soft piping music playing in the background, but she knew that wasn’t it. Music was the only indulgence she allowed herself, one she kept carefully hidden from the outside world. No. It was the nature of the equations that caused her focus to slip, no matter how hard she tried. Finally she gave up, leaning back and staring at the ceiling, watching the steam as it curled up from the cup of coffee besides her computer monitor. It reminded her of a time long ago, of how she would spend hours staring at the clouds, trying to make out shapes. She was young then, innocent.

The Chirurgeon had lost her innocence long ago. She had done some terrible things in her life. In the name of science… out of loyalty to the Facility… they were still terrible things. Still, until now she managed to rationalize them to the point where she could easily live with them. However, for the past few days she had found herself haunted by guilt. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the Doctor’s face as electricity surged through him, erasing him. He had been a colleague and probably the closest thing to a friend and equal she had ever had, and she had killed him… because he had been foolish and disloyal and because he had done sloppy work. He had been fully aware of the consequences of failure. However, the Chirurgeon had never expected herself to be pushed into the role of executioner. It wasn’t the first time a life had ended under her hands, but this time it left a bad taste in her mouth, a nagging feeling that haunted her even as she closed her eyes and sank into a light and restless sleep. More than ever she felt old, weary, as if time was catching up with her. Time had been catching up with her for quite some time, but for some reason she felt too tired to keep running.

Back to top

Thomas and Tetra walked quickly, trying to ignore the beady eyes that stared at them from all directions. The rats were a curious lot, but also fiercely protective of their territory. It had taken them years to accept Thomas, and now he was bringing in a stranger. Nearly everyone in the city had witnessed Tetra jumping down the fifteen foot drop with seemingly no trouble at all.

The tension Tetra had caused was palpable, but Thomas tried to look as calm as possible. He knew full well that if they chose to, the children could rip them to shreds. Between Tetra and the machine gun they could probably put up quite a fight, but the rats were fully aware of the fact that they had the advantage of sheer numbers. Thomas could only hope that their respect for him and uncertainty about Tetra’s power would keep them at bay, at least until he had spoken to their leader.

Finally they reached their destination, the only building in Muripolis made entirely of bricks. It was larger than the other hovels, although any attempt not to make it look like it was constructed of garbage and rubble like the rest of the buildings had failed miserably. Thomas and Tetra had to stoop low as they entered the child-sized palace, closely followed by the ever vigilant Scipula.

The inside of the building consisted of a single room, about nine feet wide and ten feet across. The room was lit by a few oil lamps and candles that cast flickering shadows on the irregular walls. Mismatched wooden planks were laid out across the floor. One side of the room was covered with a pile of blankets that seemed to be arranged in a crude nest. A low table standing near the far wall was arranged as a desk, complete with several pencil stubs and a stack of papers that contained the rudimentary administration system the rats used to keep track of resources.

Sitting behind the desk was the leader of the rats, a boy only a few years older than most of the children that called him their leader. Still, by their standards he was ancient, as the dangerous and violent lives the children led rarely lasted past the first few years of puberty. A long puckered scar run across the side of his face and all the way down his neck, just one of the many signs that his life hadn’t been every bit as violent as that of the other children.

Nobody knew the name his parents gave him. He had been called Reston by the other rats for as long as he could remember. More than anyone else in the gang he was a survivor, and it was only natural that he succeeded the previous leader when she mysteriously disappeared two years ago. Under his reign Muripolis had thrived. Outside of their territory, the gang had become less violent and more reliant on scavenging for their survival. Their territory itself was fiercely defended however, and any trespassers were usually attacked without warning. By choosing to be aggressive only when their territory was invaded, Reston had ensured that the rats were left mostly alone by the other inhabitants of the poverty-stricken city districts where they made their home.

Thomas had been one of the few strangers he had grudgingly allowed to travel through the rats’ territory. Tetra however was new, and newcomers were usually ‘encouraged’ to leave at their earliest convenience. It was only because of Thomas’ company that she hadn’t already been attacked. Still, unless something was negotiated now the peace wouldn’t last long.

Thomas stepped forward, signalling for Tetra to remain quiet. Just as he was about to speak Reston stood up, his beady eyes regarding him sharply. “She’s an outsider, and you’ve brought her into our city. Give me a good reason not to kill her now, or you for that matter.”

Thomas shrugged sheepishly, realizing that it would require more than just diplomacy to get what he wanted from Reston this time. He shrugged sheepishly as his left hand pulled his coat aside to reveal the weapon he was carrying under it for Reston to see. The boy shifted nervously. “Are you threatening me?”

“Maybe… or maybe I’m offering you payment…”

“Payment for what?”

“Payment for letting us stay inside the city for the next two or three days, for food and water, and for using two Dream machines.”

“You’ll have to come up with something better than that. I suppose the gun will be payment enough for allowing you two to live, but we’ll need more if you’re looking for shelter.”

Thomas nodded as he reached inside his coat. He pulled out a wad of bills, the remainder of the money Tetra had paid him for his work for the Facility. He put it on the table for Renton to count. When he was done he looked up at Thomas, nodding slowly. “Very well, Scipula will take you, but you’ll have to use your own ichor.”

Thomas nodded slowly. “Then it’s settled. You can keep the money, you’ll get the weapon when we leave.”

“I’m warning you Gaelen, you’re threading on thin ice and Scipula has been aching to flex her muscles a bit. Try anything funny, anything at all and I can promise you neither of you will leave our city alive.”

Thomas shrugged inwardly as he left Renton’s lair. Tetra seemed less at ease, and as they followed Scipula she leaned close to Thomas, whispering softly. “How can you trust these… children? They seem violent.”

Thomas nodded slowly, keeping his voice hushed. “They are, but they also have a strong sense of honour. A few years back I saved one of their leaders from a somewhat dangerous situation. Since then they’ve tolerated me in their territory, and occasionally even provided me with tips on cases I’ve been working on in return for food or money. I trust them not to touch us as long as we remain civil…”

Tetra nodded but didn’t seem convinced, even though Thomas seemed to be the only thing she had left to trust. She remained quiet as they followed Scipula, although she couldn’t help but notice that Thomas seemed to be trembling for some reason. Finally they arrived at their dwelling. It was a small tent at the edge of the city, isolated from the other hovels. Tetra and Thomas just barely fitted inside. Scipula told them that food, water and the requested machines would be delivered shortly, and that they were to stay put until then. After she left, Thomas could see the shadow of her broad shoulders cast on the canvas flap that acted as the door.

With a weary sigh Thomas sat down on the floor, which was covered with rough, uneven wooden planks. He closed his eyes and tried to gather his thoughts, but negotiating with Renton had sapped him of what was left of his mental reserves, and more than anything he wanted to Dream, just for a while, if only to forget his troubles. His muscles were aching, and the cold metal of the weapon he was carrying was pushing uncomfortably into his ribs. He folded his hands tightly together to stop them from trembling. Both his body and his mind ached to be connected to the Dreamweb again, although the desire had never been this painful before. Deep inside he knew that he was standing at the edge of the cliff, one step away from losing himself completely. He knew that he was supposed to care about this somehow, but at the moment he felt incredibly blank about it. He wondered if he should just shoot himself in the face right now, although he doubted if his hands could hold his weapon steady enough.

Then, out of nowhere, he felt something soft brush against his face. It didn’t feel too warm, yet at the same time it was still comforting. Thomas opened his eyes, staring at the slender hand pressed against his cheek. He followed it upwards, along the arm wrapped in the ill-fitting shirt he had stolen from one of the cleaners, until his eyes met Tetra’s. He tried to define the emotion that was showing on her face, but he couldn’t decide whether it was curiosity or concern. He wrapped the fingers of his right hand around her pale wrist and slowly pulled the hand away.

“You are ill… this is not a good place to be ill.”

“I… I’ll be fine… they’ll bring something that’ll fix me…”

“The Dream machine?”

“Dream machines, plural. They’re bringing one for you too…”

“But I am no Dreamer, and I have no desire to become one…”

Thomas laughed hoarsely, a laugh that ended in a wheezing coughing fit. Finally he managed to recover his breath. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on kid… Besides, you said it yourself, you’re malfunctioning. There’s something wrong in that head of yours. The Dreamweb can help you with that… or at least help you forget about it for a while…”

Tetra shook her head slowly. “I was forbidden from using the Dreamweb. It is dangerous and addictive.”

Thomas laughed harshly. “Forbidden? By whom? The same people who are now out there trying to kill you? Kill me? I’d say they wouldn’t really care about whether you still followed their orders or not…”

Tetra opened and closed her mouth several times. She tried to respond, but there was something in Thomas’ voice that struck her deeply. Suddenly she felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, and before she realized what was happening she sunk away, sobbing quietly. Thomas let out an annoyed sigh. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you, or Claudia, or whoever it is in there crying. Do you think it’s at all possible for you to keep quiet for just a few more minutes? I’ll make you feel better, I promise…”

Tetra nodded slowly, still sobbing. She wasn’t sure if she was actually going to take Thomas up on his offer, but she didn’t feel like arguing any further. She tried to control herself, not wanting to upset Thomas further. She could only hope that when Thomas had had his chance to use the Dreamweb again, he’d feel better. She had no idea how she was going to survive the city without him.

Back to top