Legacy of a Mad Scientist

by John Carrick

  Letting the weapon take the boy's weight, the agent leaned into the sling, sighted in and charged the dish. To scrub a person of the Micronix infection, a blast of electricity had to be delivered to the entire organ at once, rebooting the system.

  As the charge built and the audible hum rose in pitch, the agent held the young man’s skull in his sights. When the rifle chirped, he fired.

  Doug was awake, screaming. The initial blast was loud, as a mini-bolt of lightning scoured the child's head. An excruciating experience, but after a few seconds, it was over. Doug's body emptied its bowels and projectile vomited across the canyon floor. The agent unhooked the collar and let him slide to the ground.

  "The Meyer coefficient is so much less invasive.”

  "What are you going to do?" the third agent shrugged and blasted Evan.

  "You have to admit, three seconds of Morelet, beats getting screwed with a sombrero. A whole ten seconds? That has to hurt.”

  The female agent blasted Jamie. Soon all the kids in the canyon had been scrubbed. They bagged up Alexander's shattered body and secured it to the lead agent’s kite.

  The agents hopped onto their kite boards and left the canyon for higher elevation.

  Another two-man recovery team picked up Bobby's trail. He still carried the revolver in his hand and hadn't gone too far. They came down on him from behind, firing the sinusoids while airborne, flooding his path.

  The gas enveloped him, and Bobby hit the ground with a thud. He hadn't seen them coming and couldn't have fired the gun anyhow. In a fit of curiosity, he'd removed the shells from the revolver and pocketed them.

  Later that evening, Doug, Jamie, Evan and the rest of the children woke, groggy and confused. They made their soiled way home, unable to remember much of what happened over the past few days, let alone that afternoon.

  Chapter 22 – Jack and Bobby

  After spending the remainder of the day looking for Jack, Ashley and Geoff found themselves at the far edge of the forested canyon. They had reached the northern tip of Beverly Hills, the flat expanse of the Los Angeles basin stretching away from them.

  Ashley and Geoff stared out at the city, shocked by the lights, traffic and swell of pedestrians. They were allowed to play close to home, and while they pushed the envelope in the forest, the children had never dared to hop the gate and cross into the forbidden-city.

  Some pedestrians noticed their abrupt appearance, looking at them as if they were some wild forest creatures. Streaked with dirt and sweat, with bits of leaf in their hair, Ash pulled Geoff back into the forest.

  "But Ash, what if Jack's out there?" Geoff said.

  Ash thought of how she'd last seen the dog, he'd been rabid. She was afraid he'd gotten his leash caught in a thicket and strangled. Ashley thought she'd been listening, but the noise of the encroaching city had long since drowned out any sounds made by a panicked dog.

  Ash began to despair they wouldn't find him.

  Geoff tugged at her arm, looking back at the city. He seemed determined that Jack had gone that way. Ashley refused to entertain him. She'd been overwhelmed by the people and the traffic. She always wondered why people stayed out of the forest. She was glad they did.

  Ashley looked down the trail. The tall trees formed natural arches overhead, light spilled down, shadows waving, the breeze rustling the limbs. Birds chirped and fluttered about with butterflies.

  That was when she saw it. Jack's leash, tangled in a thicket, but there was no Jack.

  "Geoff," Ashley said, pointing to the leash.

  "Oh, that's his... JACK! JACK!" he yelled into the darkening forest.

  It was getting late, closer to rush hour, and the sounds of the city traffic intruded, drowning out his call.

  "Ash, we have to find him! He could be lost or scared!”

  Geoff was beginning to melt down. Ashley could see it coming. "Come on," she said. Together they picked the cord out of the brush.

  "He's out there, Ash." Geoff stared out into the city.

  "No, Geoff. He's a smart dog. He'll go home. I bet he'll be waiting for us. Come on, we have to go.”

  "Ashley, please," he cried.

  Unable to argue or insist he come with her, Ashley put her arms around him. She led him away from the city, back uphill. Ashley walked at his pace, and Geoff stayed with her. Going up was so much harder than going down. To his credit, Geoffrey didn't complain.

  Now Ashley understood why people didn't come into their part of the forest. The steep climb was a natural barrier. They watched their shadows grow long under the afternoon sun.

  At the top of the slope, back on familiar ground, Geoffrey got a second wind.

  "I miss him already," he said.

  "I know. Me too," Ashley said.

  The pair got home just before dark. They'd wandered far across the canyon and came up the shallow side of the neighborhood, surprising their parents when they entered through the front door.

  The faintest light hung in the air, thirty seconds later it was gone. Dinner was already on the table.

  Ashley's mom took the leash without question as to Jack's whereabouts. Ash and Geoff were told they were filthy and chased upstairs to wash. No one made any jokes.

  Pierce's blood, which had splattered all over Ashley, had either crusted off or faded in the failing light. It wasn't noticed until Ashley saw it in the sink; the first handful of water came back pink against the porcelain.

  The second rinse turned red, but the third was almost clear.

  Geoff turned to look outside and saw Jack, scratching his ear in the back yard. He screamed the dog's name and sprinted from the bathroom. He bounded down the stairs, yelling the dog's name all the way.

  Jack seemed normal, barked normal and wrestled with Geoffrey. All normal. Ashley was glad the beagle was back. Once she got over Geoff's scream, she also realized, smiling, that she had the bathroom to herself.

  Bobby Dunkirk woke near a puddle of vomit he instinctively recognized to be his own. He sat up, coughed and shook his head. The revolver was gone. He stumbled to his feet and reached into his pocket. Bobby pulled out his fist and opened it to reveal six shiny brass shells. Three were hollow and empty, spent. The other three were filled with the heavy copper-coated rounds, artifacts of an ancient time. Only the richest citizens carried revolvers and old-school bullets.

  The bullets held Bobby's gaze, speaking in a wordless language, alien concepts filling his mind. After several minutes of silent communication, he pocketed the heavy chunks of metal and made his way home.

  During dinner, Ashley was transfixed by the black rectangle lying next to her father's plate. She looked at him. He was eating, happy and calm.

  Ash was tempted to pull out the uncomfortable hunk of black metal in her own pocket, but didn't. She remembered his order, never to touch it, under any circumstances. Ash looked at his rectangle, it was different from the one she'd found.

  After dinner, alone in her room with the door closed, Ashley sat at her desk. Staring at the overhead clock, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the prototype. The clock didn't stop. She stared at it for a long time, almost a minute. The second hand never even ticked slowly; it just kept cruising, perfectly.

  Ash looked at the device. It was almost identical to her father's. Ash noticed that the button placement was just a little different. This rectangle had some curving to it and beveled edges. When she looked at it closely, she saw it also had dozens of seams.

  The button was hard; it took some effort to press it down into the device. She wrapped both hands around it and used one thumb atop the other to force the button down. She was met with a loud crack of metal, as a wicked-sharp blade snapped out through the end.

  Ashley looked at the clock. It kept ticking.

  She looked up to see her father enter the room. "So, it found you."

  "What?" Ashley asked, rattled.

  "I knew sooner or later it would, ” Dr. Fox said. “ I tried to stop it, but I guess there was nothing I
could do. I thought it would choose Geoff.”

  "What are you taking about?" Ashley asked.

  Her father blinked.

  Ashley held up the knife. "What is this?" she asked.

  "That's a knife," he replied.

  "Is it yours?" she asked, holding it flat in her hand.

  "No, this is mine," he said, producing the item she'd seen him with at dinner. "Where did you get that?" he asked.

  "What?”

  "Where did you get that?”

  "It fell out of the sky,” she said, with open sarcasm.

  "Really?”

  "There was a man attached to it,” she added.

  Fox laughed and brushed the blue stained scar over his eye.

  Ashley took a deep breath.

  "It's a tool, a weapon, an eating utensil. It's up to you, really," he said.

  Ashley looked down at it.

  Ash sat up in bed, in her pajamas, the lights off. She'd had a nightmare. It was after midnight. She stood up beside her bed. The moonlight spilling through the windows lit the room well enough for her to see. She listened to the house. She didn't hear anything.

  She thought about earlier that night, trying to remember what had happened. Her eyes were drawn to the first drawer of her desk. She remembered getting ready for bed and looking at the object. The button hadn't done anything at all. It wasn't a knife, and her father had never entered the room.

  Ashley had taken it into his study and asked him what it was. He said it was a data drive. He hadn’t shown the slightest interest in it.

  Ashley stared at the desk. She crossed the room and opened the center drawer. The object was lying right where she'd left it.

  She picked it up. It was heavy and serious.

  The clock didn't stop.

  She pressed the button. She pressed it hard. It did nothing.

  She pulled a pencil out from her desk, discarded it for a tougher metal pen and jammed down on the button. A port at the front end of the device opened up. She jammed the button with the pen a second time and with a loud rusty thwack, the blade popped out.

  It was shiny black, serrated near the hilt, grooved with a polished silver blood gutter. Ashley stared at it. She knew, without a doubt, she had never seen it before, not in her waking life, anyhow.

  The button had risen up, even with the smooth surface of the case again. Ashley pressed it a second time. It went down easily, and the blade retracted with another crack.

  Ashley put the knife back in the drawer. It looked out of place, surrounded by her pens, pencils, erasers and more-feminine possessions. She stared at it for a long moment before sliding the drawer closed.

  An hour or so earlier, Bobby arrived home, entering the vast white structure through the kitchen. He went up the back stairs and into his private bathroom, decorated with shades and hints of blue.

  He stood the six bullets in a single, horizontal line, the copper coated loads on the left, the three, empty, fired shells, on the right. He spent a few minutes just watching them, first focusing on them and then on their reflection in the mirror.

  Bobby stripped out of his clothes and took a shower. When he got out, the steam had obscured the mirror, but the bullets stood gleaming. They seemed to be in tune with his soul. They calmed him and yet excited him at the same time. He felt empowered and captivated by their presence.

  The boy dried himself and combed his hair, flat, back and to the side. It was how his mother did it. He didn't like it, but it was out of his eyes. Bobby flossed and brushed his teeth. Usually he avoided these chores. Tonight he did them thoroughly, exactly as they should be done.

  Bobby pulled on his pajamas and a massive white terrycloth robe. He scooped up his bullets and carried them, his hands in his pockets, over to his bed. He climbed across it to the window. He stood the shells on the wooden sill. Carefully, he opened the window behind them.

  Ill at ease, he moved the shells. Seeing them sitting there like that, something about it bothered him. He found the latches securing the window screen and pushed it out, into the canyon below.

  Now the bullets were arranged before the open sky. He watched the moonlight reflecting off their surface. He fell asleep watching them.

  Chapter 23 – Like a Thief

  Ashley’s Journal, Friday Morning, June 25, 2308

  I don’t know why my father carries around a knife, or why I’m having nightmares about it.

  Or even better, how does a knife make you hallucinate?

  There is something about it. Time slows down, or seems to. And my dad, he’s acting weird all of a sudden.

  What the hell is happening?

  Geoff woke later than usual. He'd slept in until almost seven-thirty. Ashley and her parents were sitting quietly in the kitchen. Geoff came downstairs, still in his pajamas.

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  His mother took his hand. "Honey, Jack died in his sleep last night.”

  A couple of hours later, Dr. Fox had finished digging a nice-sized hole at the edge of the property. The new scar across his forehead had turned red and swollen while he dug.

  Ashley didn’t ask about it, but Geoff did, after an hour or so.

  Andrew said he’d gotten it after a nasty spill on a wet bathroom floor, which was the truth, if only part of it.

  They put Jack in a towel-lined wooden box, and Dr. Fox set him into the deep hole. Several feet of dirt would cover the beagle's casket.

  The children looked on as Dr. Fox solemnly bowed his head. "Today we bury our dear friend, Jack. He was a good dog, a puppy still, but he was a good soul. We are thankful for the time he shared with us and will remember him fondly, until the end of our days.”

  Geoffrey leaned against his mother. Dr. Fox picked up the shovel, and with blistered hands, he began filling the hole.

  Ana led Geoff away from the grave, over to the canopied swing. They sat in the shade as Dr. Fox shoveled in the dirt.

  Ashley stood beside her father. She held a small bouquet of wild flowers and watched the dirt rise.

  Once he was finished turning the hole into a small hill, she set the flowers at the head of the grave.

  Dr. Fox said nothing further and carried the shovel back to the shed.

  Ashley’s Journal, June 26, 2308

  I know, somehow, that it was my father's fault Jack died. Just like I know that he lied about the knife. Somehow, I know he is responsible.

  Geoff will be okay, eventually. I hope. But I don’t think we’ll be hanging out in the canyon much this summer.

  Ashley’s Journal, Sunday, June 28, 2308

  It’s been three days since Jack died.

  Four, since the man fell out of the sky.

  Geoff stayed in back yard most of that first day, but he hasn't been outside much since. He’s been glued to the vid streams and net games. Otherwise, he seems fine.

  I bet once school starts he'll be back to his old self.

  I haven’t seen Doug, or Jamie, or any of the other kids who were in the canyon that day. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone out since then.

  The neighborhood has been dead quiet.

  You can feel it in the air. It’s gotten hot. Doors stay closed, and blinds are pulled tight. Everyone is inside blasting the AC.

  Geoff says their gamer ids are online.

  Only tourists and strangers are down in the park now.

  Ashley’s Journal, Monday, July 6, 2308

  My dad has been home a lot more lately. In fact, it seems as if he’s here all the time now. He even took us to see fireworks.

  He seems a little different, but I like it.

  I’ve still got that thing in my desk. I didn’t see any blood on it. I know it’s his. It looked just like the one he had at dinner.

  He’s got another one, but why would he have two?

  I haven’t touched it.

  Camp.

  Today we leave for camp.

  I don’t know why I complained so much about this.

  It all feels anticlima
ctic now. I’m kind of interested. I wonder what they’re going to teach us.

  Last summer was boring. I hope this is better.

  Monday, July 6, 2308

  With brief goodbyes to their mother, Ash and Geoff boarded the shuttle. Dr. Fox had been summoned to Washington and left the day before. Ash and Geoff waved to their mom from the shuttle window and watched their home fade into the distance. The transport was half-full, all children, all bound for the same destination.

  Every summer hundreds of kids attended the camp programs at the Heart O' The City Summer Camp Facility. Geoff would be on one of the three-dozen terra-formed levels, while Ashley would be on another. New programs began each Monday and the courses rotated regularly, 'graduating' students all summer.

  Ash and Geoff stayed together until protocol separated them.

  They didn't make a big thing of it. The time came and they waved each other goodbye.

  As she watched Geoff go, Ash was overcome with a feeling of loss. She didn't know what to do with it, so she swallowed the emotion and went to look for her quarters.

  Chapter 24 – Dirty Bullets

  On the first day after his exposure to the corrupted handgun, Bobby found himself compelled to return to the forest.

  He walked all day, exploring in an ever-widening corkscrew fashion. He kept moving but never got far from home.

  He saw none of the other kids.

  He didn’t get hungry, or lonely or scared. Instead, he studied the forest, as if he were mapping it with his mind. He noticed every patch of brush, every rise and fall of the mountainous terrain. He watched the birds and the squirrels, and listened to their chattering, but didn’t attempt to translate it.