by Alex Scarrow
The metal lip of the entrance led onto a small platform of dark basaltic rock ribbed with razor edges and spine-like protrusions. They stepped cautiously forward onto it and found themselves staring down over the edge of the rocky platform onto what looked to Ellie to be a lake of pale pinky grey sludge that seemed to be bubbling like a vast cauldron of porridge. A narrow iron walkway extended from the rocky platform across the lake to an island in the middle; a gothic monstrosity of dark spires and battlements with what looked like the hunched forms of gargoyles perched on the top of bell-towers and minarets. It was hard to tell at this distance whether the island was the deliberate architecture of some twisted medieval mind, or the natural spikes, arches and other suggestive and accidental formations caused by the erosion of wind and rain.
Ellie checked herself with a thought. Nothing in here is accidental. It's all by design.
'OhMyGod!' Jez shrieked above the moaning wind and the deep booming thunder from above. 'This is soooo fregging drool!!!' She stepped forward onto the raised iron walkway, beckoning at Ellie to follow her. 'Come on!'
Their boots clanked noisily as they made their way along the iron walkway. Ellie grasped the handrails on either side of her as it seemed to rock and sway slightly under their weight. She looked down at the mottled pinkish grey lake of churning slurry below them, hoping that this less than stable bridge was designed to take the weight of more than one person at a time and wasn't about to give way and dump them into that slurry below.
Gray actually made this world? This is what he chooses to live in?
'This is like some sort of psycho's theme park!' Jez shouted excitedly over her shoulder.
Ellie nodded. That was exactly what it looked like. The lake bubbled and fidgeted beneath them and she looked down through the gaps between the iron slats at the churning grey sea below. She narrowed her eyes and looked more closely. It wasn't porridge, or slurry. It was…
'Jez!'
She turned round. 'What?'
'Look!' Ellie leaned carefully to one side, down over the railing at the lake. 'Look…it's full of worms…or maggots or something!'
Jez followed her gaze and curled her lips in response. 'That's pretty grossio!'
Ellie watched the churning movement more closely and realised it was more disturbing than that; not worms, but a melting pot of human body parts. Torsos, pelvises, arms and legs, faces and whole heads joined together in a pallid soup of welded together flesh, gristle and bone. The movement wasn't a liquid bubbling away, but an incessant writhing. Moreover, the moaning wasn't the sound of wind racing through cracks, rock spires and caverns, producing some unintended haunting noise; it wasn't even some spooky environmental ambient soundtrack being played through hidden speakers somewhere, it was coming from below, from the lake, from thousands of malformed and twisted mouths; wide toothless, gummy orifices crying together in an endless pitiful chorus of torment.
'Okay,' Jez nodded slowly. 'I guess that is pretty creepy.'
Ellie looked at her. 'You really want to go and see more of this?'
For a moment Jez didn't look entirely certain that she did. But then she, shrugged her second thoughts away. 'C'mon, it's no worse than a scary holo flicker. I mean…it's all fake stuff.' She grabbed her hand. 'I guess it's probably just a guy thing. Guys like gross stuff. Right?'
A guy thing? Ellie looked down at the seething mass of tortured faces. Dark sockets where eyes should be, mouths opening and snapping shut; here and there arms and hands stretched upwards, seemingly imploring her to come down and rescue them. Or perhaps join them.
Seriously. A guy thing?
Jez laughed nervously. 'C'mon its no worse than some of them shooty-killy hologames the boys play in the arcades. It's all just special effex, Ellie. Just like back in Dantes.'
'It's a nightmare.'
Jez laughed again. 'Don't be such a wussy-pussy.'
'No.' Ellie shook her head. 'He's not right in the head. Not if….if he's coming up with this kind of-'
'You really have no idea about men, do you? Jez turned to her. 'Look, if they're not figuring out how to get inside your spandux smallies, or how to over-clock some tech toy, they're dreaming up gross crud like this.'
Ellie saw movement down at the far end of the walk way. It was Gray. He had emerged from the darkness of the forbidding archway leading up into his gothic castle. He stood at the far end wearing shorts and a bright flowery shirt looking like some tourist on Pacifica. He was beckoning them to hurry on over.
'He's over there,' said Ellie. Jez turned and spotted him. She waved and smiled then turned back to her. 'C'mon, El', don't be such a gloomy grump. You really going to let me walk into some weird hunk's psycho palace all on my own?'
'I don't like it.' For a fleeting moment she was reminded of those awful photographs she'd discovered in the inter-system mail crate. 'Jez…I've got a bad feeling about him.'
Jez rolled her eyes. 'You go back, then.'
'Just be careful, okay?'
'Okay…mom.' Jez squeezed her hand. 'I'll be back in time for dinner.' She winked. 'Unless he gets lucky.'
CHAPTER 15
'And this is where we develop the products in their fabrication pods,' said Shelby.
He led Ellie into an enormous hangar-like space. Rows of what appeared to her to be giant goldfish bowls, seven feet in diameter and softly glowing in a foggy pond-water green. Row after row of them. Hundreds in all. At the top of each was a large 'cap' with a nest of tubes and cables emerging from it. The tubes and cables snaked up towards the vast chamber's low ceiling and joined others emerging from the other bowls. So many, crisscrossing each other in thick braids that the ceiling appeared to be nothing more than an inverted bowl of dark grey and dust-covered spaghetti.
Ellie knew a little about the genetic process. Her mother had explained to her that babies came from a giant lab somewhere. 'So how long do your creatures grow in those bowls?'
'Grow? A commonly made mistake, right there,' interrupted Shelby. He sighed with the testy impatience of a fool's tutor. 'But don't berate yourself too much over it. Most people unfamiliar with the science make the same mistake. You see, we don't grow products from stem cells or foetuses. Not here. Our products are fabricated. Our products are far more, hmmm,' he was looking for a word, '…adventurous…than any natural growth cycle would be able to facilitate.'
He led the way further into the large chamber. They wandered down between two rows of the large glowing green bowls. She could see they were all full of the foggy liquid with flotsam of gross-looking organic debris floating around inside like shreds of tissue paper.
'These are organic fabricators. The required raw material to fabricate a product is supplied via those tubes above. If you look closely you'll see deployment nozzles inside the bowl that - to use a layman's term - squirt out and manipulate the biomass solution.' He looked at her. 'I don't suppose you're a student of twenty-first century industrial history?'
'Uh, not really.'
'Pity. I was going to explain how these machines are a teeny tiny bit like archaic old devices back then that were called 3D printers, devices they experimented with for a while.' He stepped up close to one of the bowls and pointed at a number of finely articulated mechanical arms with pincer-like tips almost as fine and delicate as threads of hair, which descended from the cap at the top. 'The designs that we can produce in these fabrication pods are simply too unnatural for a normal clone growth process to develop. So, they're built from scratch.'
'You can make…anything in these?'
'Indeed. Anything organic.'
'Frasier was grown…' she corrected herself, '…fabricated in one of these?'
'Yes, of course. He's one of my more ambitious products, though. I designed him to have longterm functionality. Not just to live for a few hours or a couple of days. He has a fully functional digestive system, a fairly robust artificial intelligence, a self sustaining immune and self-repair system. Proper blood chemistry right the way through.
On the other hand basic products can be designed with just a muscular motor system and an internal store of nutrition to power that. Enough to keep them going for several hours or days without the need for a digestive process or some defecation orifice-'
'Oh! I know! Just like a podkin!'
'Podkin?' Shelby's brow knitted for a brief moment. 'Oh, you mean one of those children's toys? The seed creatures?'
'Yeah.'
'Hmm…yes, a bit like one of those, I suppose. Very elementary design work.'
Ellie really didn't know much at all about genetic engineering, so she expected another long-suffering sigh and a roll of the eyes from Shelby with her next question. 'So…how do you know that some creature you're fabricating in there is going to, you know, like…live when he comes out?'
He surprised her with a smile. 'Very good question. The answer to that is that we test each design in a virtual environment, a simulator, before we proceed to the fabrication stage. The software checks that basic functional parameters are being met.
'Those ridiculous Sugar Beany soldiers…' and now he did sigh, 'the ones that Graham designed? For example, the simulation software would have checked first whether the limbs were thick enough and strong enough to support the weight of the design's round, bean shaped body. Whether the limbs were broad enough to fit within them a sufficiently firm enough skeletal chassis, muscular tissue, an arterial system and tendons and so on. The software examines the user's design and queries potential problems. It runs the design in a virtual environment to see whether it can stand, walk and how long it would survive for.'
He pursed his lips disdainfully. 'In actual fact it really makes it far, far too easy for any old moron to produce something that will live. For a short while, at least. Even your friend Jez would probably be able to come up with something that was viable for a few hours.'
Ellie wondered how she was getting on in Gray's world. Apart from sending a quick viddee over the system - blowing Ellie a kiss and winking at her - there'd been nothing more from her.
Shelby had just asked her something. 'Sorry?'
'I said…would you like to have a go at designing some creature?
Ellie nodded. It would be good to have something to take her mind off worrying about Jez. 'I'd love to see what I could come up with. Yes please.'
'Hmmm.' He tugged his bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. 'I'll give you a basic tutorial, then. I'm not sure I want to try and explain it to your friend. I find her very irritating.'
'Shelby?'
'Hmmm?'
'Do you think she's going to be…you know…okay with Gray?'
'Okay?' He shrugged. 'Sure. He may be extremely irritating, but he's quite harmless.'
She stifled a relieved laugh. There was that about Shelby; he seemed to be pathologically honest. 'Good.'
'So, you'd like to try your hand at genetic modelling?'
'I'd really like that.'
'Fine. Then I'll schedule some time into my routine for you.'
He led her down the rows of glowing green bowls, all of them now empty except for the foggy green liquid. 'These fabrication pods need to be cleaned out and the grow solution properly filtered. They're looking decidedly murky.' He shook his head and tutted. 'It's Graham's turn to do that as well. He's so annoyingly messy and unprofessional. I really don't know how he got a job here.'
He turned to look at her. 'I'm actually rather pleased he lives over in his world. I think he'd drive me quite insane if I had to share a living space with him all the time.' He pointed to a power cable running across the floor. 'Caution. Trip hazard.'
They stepped over it and carried on down the row.
'Shelby?'
'Yes?'
'The other day, when we first arrived, you mentioned something. And you haven't mentioned it since.'
'What was that?'
'You said when WonderLand was closed down this place was left with a team of twelve caretaker technicians. And then you said it was just you and Graham here.'
Shelby paused. 'Did I?'
'Yes, you did.'
'So?
'So…what?'
'So, you know?…where are they? Did they resign their jobs? Were they made redundant? Or-'
'Oh, no,' he replied matter-of-factly. 'They all died.'
'Died!? How?'
'It was a structural malfunction. I told you this facility wasn't fully completed when it was closed down?'
'Yes.'
'So, a few years back the rest of the technicians were in World Four. Personally, I refused to set foot in there. Ever. That biome was not properly signed off as a hundred percent user-safe. But they were in there, celebrating someone's birthday if I recall correctly. I think they must have programmed a stormy day or something. A sky panel wasn't properly pressure-tested and came loose. The biome completely depressurised and everything loose was sucked out into space.'
Shelby pressed his lips together. 'A very sad day.'
Ellie looked at him closely. There didn't seem to be a shred of genuine emotion on his face. He tried a frown, then a scowl. Then an aw-shucks tut.
'I did try and tell those fools it wasn't safe. I did try and tell them many times. But would they listen? No. They completely ignored me. In fact Amanda told me I was being completely boring on the subject. She told me that I was a 'health and safety drone'.' His eyes were off somewhere for a moment. Distracted. 'I do sometimes wonder if the very last thing that went through her mind as she flew out into deep space was; Oh dear, Maybe Shelby isn't such a health and safety bore after all.'
Ellie cocked a brow.
He shook his head suddenly. As if coming back into himself. 'Anyway…that's what happened to the others. Very very unfortunate. Although I can't say I miss Amanda. I didn't like her very much. She was a bit like your friend, Jez. A very rude busybody.'
CHAPTER 16
Karl had an address, not written down, not typed into a mem-pad or a cheap WristBuddy, but firmly scored in his mind. The safest place for it now that The Administration's marines had established checkpoints all over the city and were doing random stop-n-stripdowns. The address was for a flesh bar in the industrial sector. A place called Strangerz. He pushed his way along a crowded rat run between a chem-recyc dealer and an O2 filtration sub-station.
The fizzing neon red sign for Strangerz was just up ahead. He stepped out of the hasty push of people; a tide with an increasing sense of urgency to it. Many of the stalls and marketplaces around the city had already begun to lock up their premises. Hastily scribbled signs ('We ARE EMPTY!') seemed to have quickly become a common sight. Even though The Administration's marines had already established a number of emergency ration distribution points, citizens were still scouring the streets for shops still open for business.
He pushed his way through a heavy plated door and stepped into the dark interior of the bar. Dimmed purple spotlights shone down as they floated slowly around the ceiling, illuminating a scuffed and stained plastic dance floor. In the middle of the floor was a dance frame of aluminium tubing. Leather swing seats and harnesses and shackles dangled from its crossbars on lengths of chain.
That was the floor show; where the exotic dancers, dangled, swung, preened and pouted. Around the floor were several seat booths and a number of private curtained cubicles, where some of the girls' on-the-premises business was conducted.
Karl spotted the man he was supposed to meet. He'd been told the man was young, would be alone and holding a solitary yellow Yo-Stick. A plausible enough thing for the man to be holding in a flesh bar; it was how clients signalled their interest in a particular girl on the dance floor. The girls were colour coded and the clients set the colour they wanted to make their stick light up.
No girls right now. And no other clients. The place was deserted.
Karl sat down opposite the man. 'You're the one, I presume.'
The young man stared at him. 'Don't be so quick to presume. I could be an Administration agent.'
Karl l
ooked at him. He seemed so young, earnest and very intense. If it wasn't for the scruffy tufts of a not-quite-ready beard along his jaw line, he might even have been boyishly handsome. 'I've handled enough of The Administration's dirty work to know one of their operatives when I see one.'
'We have to be extra cautious, extra vigilant now the marines are here.'
So young. Karl wondered how old he was. Twenty? Younger?
'Relax. I'm a pro. I've been in this business long enough. You got my money?'
The young man nodded. 'I've been told to tell you, they are very pleased with you.'
Karl shrugged. 'The girl escaped. That's what you people paid me to ensure happened.'
The young man held out a credit data-card. 'Thirty thousand as agreed.'
Karl took it from him, pulled out his wallet and produced his own card. He tapped the credit data-card against his own. It came to life, softly glowing. A small digital display on his card flickered and spun-up as the amount transferred across.
Karl nodded. Satisfied. 'It all seems to be there.' He smiled and handed the data-card back to the young man. 'Now she's offworld I presume our business is done.'
'My teacher is very happy with your work. However, we may need your services again.'
Teacher?
Karl sat back in his seat. 'Teacher? Hold on….'
'Yes,' said the young man. 'If that's what you're going to ask. I am a Rebornist.'
'You're not just Rebornist….are you? You're Awoken?'
Teacher/student; that's how those fanatics referred to each other. There was also the yellow Yo-Stick. Yellow was the colour of their faith. Yellow, traditional colour of the sun, a symbol of regeneration, rebirth. He sat back further, distancing himself a little from the intense gaze of the young man opposite him.
Karl was done doing business. The sooner he left the better. 'Look, I don't normally deal with-'
'Fanatics? Terrorists?' The young man narrowed his eyes. 'Child killers?'
Karl took a deep breath. 'I didn't know who I was dealing with. Until now. That wasn't made clear to me.'
