The Xactilias Project

by RJ Lawrence

  "Impressive," said Demetri.

  He stood alone in the giant room, save for a single man sitting beside him in a small metal chair. She approached them slowly, crossing between a glittering collection of computer panels and video screens. The man wriggled against constraints, his hands strapped behind him, mouth stretched open by a tightly wound gag.

  "Please," Demetri said. "Join us."

  Claire rushed forward.

  "Let him go."

  Demetri jabbed the barrel of his pistol into the back of Nathan's ear.

  "Not just yet."

  Claire's fists hung at her sides like tiny mallets. Demetri watched her, his face calm and still.

  "Sit."

  Another steel chair sat in the center of the big round room. Claire acknowledged it with a glance and made another movement toward Demetri.

  "Now, now," Demetri said. He collected a handful of Nathan's hair and dug the gun deeper into his skull. Nathan winced, and a soft whine leaked through the red cloth gag in his mouth.

  "Sit," said Demetri.

  Her eyes flashed seven kinds of hell.

  "If you hurt him, I'll kill you."

  Demetri nodded.

  "I have no doubt. Now please sit."

  She approached the chair and gave it a thorough look. She took it up in her hands and spun it around. Then she placed it on the floor and sat.

  "Very good," said Demetri. He withdrew the pistol from behind Nathan's head and lowered it to his side. "Let's discuss our options."

  Six soldiers entered the room, their weapons spraying red laser targets at the back of Claire's head. Demetri raised his hand to ward them away and the men receded back through the entryway.

  "Now," he continued. "Before we settle on a common solution to our impasse, I'm obliged to ask that you reconsider your position."

  She squinted, as if he'd spoken mumbled nonsense.

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  He put his hand up.

  "Please," he said. "Just listen. I want you to reconsider cooperating with our project. I know that may sound repugnant to you, but there are sound reasons why this makes sense from your point of view."

  Her hands gathered into fists.

  "You're crazy."

  "Please," he said. "Hear me out. First, I want you to think about all the lives you can save. Not just the people living in the world today, but generations of people. Millions of people. Hundreds of millions. Countless generations of lives for countless hundreds of years."

  He raised his hand and turned his palm upward, as if to take the weight of some invisible object.

  "On the other hand, by choosing not to work with us, you condemn these people to death. You, in effect, become their assassin. Millions of lives, endless suffering, all because of one singular decision you made from a selfish desire. A vendetta."

  She watched him, her eyes hot.

  "For tens of thousands of years, humans have toiled and suffered against disease and death. You can modify the course of all humanity and put an end to this. All with a simple choice. You can change the course of history. Of our planet. Think of all the things we can accomplish. Imagine what can happen when all the world's brightest minds vacate their studies of human health in favor of other more progressive interests. Think of how technologies and human understanding would leap. You can fast forward history a hundred years at least, and save countless lives all at the same time."

  He stopped his talking and gave a little smirk.

  "Whose words are you speaking, Demetri? Because I think you'd have me dead if given the chance."

  He shrugged.

  "As I said, I'm obliged to ask that you reconsider your position. My feelings on the matter are of no consequence."

  She looked straight into the depths of his black eyes without blinking. She stood.

  "Even if every word you've said is true, why would I need anything from you? I can do all this myself."

  His face hardened and he shook his head.

  "No one can do anything substantial without this organization's consent. For two hundred years, this has been so, and it shall continue for two hundred more. The world as you know it exists at our pleasure. It is allowed to exist because of its obedience. When it becomes fractious, corrections can be made quite easily. Disease, catastrophic events, war, all these are quite useful at shaping the collective minds of the public. This is the way it has always been. We are not new. The world's most influential leaders work for us, as does your neighborhood garbage man."

  He jabbed his pistol into Nathan's ear.

  "As does he."

  He raised the pistol and fired into her belly, the bullet tearing a hole in her clothing and deflecting away and into the ceiling.

  "As do you," he said with a smile.

  She looked down and explored the hole with her finger. The soldiers had gathered on the other side of the entryway, and now they watched with wet, narrow eyes.

  "I decline your offer," she said. She held her open hands to her side. "Now what?"

  Demetri put the gun to the side of Nathan's head.

  "Now, you step over there." He gestured with a nod to a very large red circle painted on the floor.

  "What is it?" She asked.

  "Evacuated tube transport," he said. "A high-velocity, airless, frictionless transportation system that uses vacuum to move people and items. This particular one is used to remove unwanted materials. Mostly waste. In this case, you."

  She looked at Nathan, his face leaking sweat, the gag cutting deep between his lips, his eyes advertising sadness and fear."

  "And you'll release him."

  Demetri frowned.

  "Of course," he said. "Why would I want to be on your bad side?"

  She looked back at the soldiers

  She and Nathan locked eyes for a brief moment, and somewhere within that brief moment, they seemed to say goodbye.

  "Alright, Demetri."

  She crossed the room and stood within the red circle. Demetri looked toward the soldiers and summoned one forward with a nod. This man lowered his weapon and approached.

  "Kill this man if she moves."

  The soldier agreed to his instructions and centered his weapon at Nathan's forehead. Demetri lowered his gun and turned. On the far side of the room, a curved computer panel sat before an expansive video screen. Demetri approached it and twisted whatever levers and buttons controlled the device.

  Claire looked up as a transparent glass tube descended from the ceiling and enclosed her. She pressed her palms against the circular prison and looked out at all the watchers.

  “Look at him, Demetri," she pointed at Nathan through the glass. "You will not live through this if he doesn't."

  Demetri smiled.

  "Then I have nothing to fear."

  He tapped his finger against one last button and the floor opened beneath her. She heard a piercing squeal and felt the flesh pull away from her bones, her eyes bulging out from her skull and straining against the fleshy tethers within her head. Then she was gone, sucked down and away beneath the floor.

  The floor closed and the red circle reformed. The soldiers crept forward and scattered around it. They aimed their weapons downward and waited until the evacuation light turned from red to green. A soldier gave an all-clear signal and Demetri nodded. He eyed Nathan, as he withdrew a knife from his pocket.

  "And now she's gone." Demetri said.

  Nathan mumbled something though his gag, as Demetri approached.

  "But for how long?" He said. "That is the question."

  He slipped behind Nathan and flipped open the blade.

  Nathan's mumbling grew louder, the gag growing dark with slobber.

  "Just another moment," Demetri said, while he positioned the blade between Nathan's wrists and sliced upward. The zip tie fell apart and he brought his hands around to remove the gag.

  "Yes, indeed," Nathan said as he rubbed his wrists. "Not very long, I would guess."

  He
stood and stretched his back.

  "Very well done, Demetri."

  He held out his hand and Demetri passed over the pistol.

  "What next?" Demetri asked.

  "Well, let's see," Nathan said, as he approached the computer panel. He looked around the room and pursed his lips. "Disruption Protocol, I suppose."

  Demetri frowned.

  "They won't like it."

  Nathan shrugged.

  "They'll like the alternative a lot less."

  Demetri nodded.

  "I'll initiate the process."

  He summoned three of the soldiers and they left the room, while Nathan eyed the green evacuation light with a lazy, apathetic gaze.

  Chapter 22

  For what seemed like a long while, Claire tumbled about inside the tube, her knees and elbows thwacking against its walls, ears crackling within her throbbing head. She felt herself sucked forward through at least a dozen curvatures and elbows, though even her eyes could not make sense from all the tumble and darkness. At last, she transcended the blackness, as the tube brought her away from the facility and into the blinding sunlight.

  Now, she traveled far and out from the compound, away and away through the transparent tube, her body holding together in places that would have surely broken otherwise her miracle state. And finally and abruptly, the motion stilled, and the tube opened up and evacuated its contents into a great muddy bog.

  She splashed down in a flailing fit of motion, the sucking mud sticky to her flesh and reeking of spoilage. She struggled to the surface and reclaimed her breath, her eyes consuming the surroundings in search of threat.

  On the banks, she saw nothing but rows of bristly trees and sparse vegetation. Within the bog, however, she swam amongst butchery and carnage in the form of shattered bone, which permeated every inch of the mud like small bits of white, crumbly rock. She receded from this vision in a panic, her legs kicking skull fragments away as she stumbled up and onto the hard shore.

  Shrieks of horror escaped her mouth, as she climbed the high banks and rolled herself over the top. She stood up and looked down upon the all human remains, while big bubbles of mud boiled up and exploded gritty wet splatters outward into the air.

  With a very real weakness, she collapsed onto the ground, where she lay on her back weeping at the happy blue sky. This went on for a good while and then something stronger took place of the grief. This something was not like the other, but instead a white hot burn that felt good and powerful and right.

  She stood up and found the facility, small and concrete and far away in the distance. Her fists balled up against her hips and her mouth roared, until the trees bent forward and surrendered the bulk of their leaves. Birds cried and fled up into the heavens, soaring high in their panic above the ridiculous, chaotic world.

  She ran. The dry earth shattering beneath her feet and turning the air orange and brown in her wake. Tears streamed from her face, as she devoured the land, teeth gritted white and bright against her dirt stained face.

  As she gobbled up the miles, big ravines appeared before her, their starving mouths open for the swallow. These she cleared without much effort, the compound growing ever larger in the nearing distance. Soon, she was within a mile, her eyes able to make out the smallest details of the compound's architecture. And something else.

  She stopped and watched, as a swarm of black helicopters erupted into the air, like great prehistoric insects over a monolithic, concrete hive. She cupped a hand over her eyes to block away the sunlight, while the helicopters took altitude and moved off into the horizon.

  She took a step forward and stopped again, as something erupted deep within the facility. The structure buckled for a moment and then split around the center, brilliant white light spraying out all the little cracks. Then everything went quiet, as the facility disintegrated beneath a great pillar of fire that soared upward into the heavens and flowered into astonishing plumes of orange and yellow and red.

  She stood small upon the earth before the monstrous flower, all the colorful happenings reflected in her big, wet eyes. Then a sudden concussive blast traveled through and past her, disintegrating the trees and the land and even the birds in their places high away.

  Chapter 23

  One year later.

  Alfred Fernsby sat at his desk doodling complex patterns on a white sheet of paper, his mind off and ambling, despite the accuracy of his hand. The wall clock offered promises of lunch, but he'd lost track of the hour, along with an amounting number of other things. Someone knocked the door and opened it without asking.

  "Alfred," a young woman said.

  The old man looked up, his eyes looking as lost as his mind.

  "Yes?"

  The slight looking woman entered. She wore sophisticated business clothing that did little to offset her young age.

  "Will you not come to lunch with the rest of us?"

  Alfred frowned.

  "No, thank you. I have so much work to do." He opened a drawer and withdrew a bulging paper sack. "Besides, I spent a good ten minutes creating the perfect sandwich and I wouldn't want to leave it for waste."

  The young woman smiled.

  "Alright."

  She turned and opened the door.

  "But, I'm going to keep asking."

  She gave an even brighter smile that brought her innocence seeping past her beauty. Then she was gone.

  Alfred stood and crossed the room. He approached the door and stuck his head out to look around. No one at their desks. He shut the door and returned to his seat. He opened the paper sack and withdrew a sad little peanut butter sandwich that looked as if it had been sat on. He opened the plastic bag and took a small bite. He chewed the tastelessness without thought, his eyes transfixed on a speck of dust at the corner of his desk.

  Time passed gently without his awareness, and soon the workday came to an end. He checked his watch and sighed. He collected a few papers and shoved them into a briefcase. He stood and rubbed the pain in his lower back, before crossing the room and opening the door. He paused to look back at his office and all its spacious audacity. Then he shut off the light and closed the door.

  Outside, the city boiled with furious movement. Young business men and women walked the sidewalks without regard for one another, each one feigning aloneness despite the obvious otherwise. Each one safe within his or her isolation. No one talking much.

  Alfred watched them from the steps of the building, his face lacking expression. The building's security guard noticed him with some concern.

  "Are you alright, sir?"

  Alfred looked up at the man.

  "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you."

  He stepped out and let the crowd take him in its current, his eyes studying the ground as he went. He walked two blocks and stopped before a small pub. He went inside and took a seat at the bar next to a young man and girl, who barely seemed to notice him over their groping. The bartender approached.

  "What can I get you?"

  Alfred ordered a scotch and the bartender brought it. He lifted it to his lips and tilted the glass, but before he could draw a single sip, the young girl bumped his elbow hard with her purse.

  "I'm sorry," the girl said unconvincingly.

  "Oh, it's alright," Alfred said, as he dabbed the liquor splatters from his jacket.

  The two returned to mauling each other, while the bartender slid another drink beneath Alfred's nose.

  "Take that shit outside," he told the young couple.

  The two flashed a look and fled out into the world.

  "Sorry about that," said the bartender. "These fuckin kids nowadays, am I right?"

  Alfred started to respond, but something on the television caught his eye.

  "Can you please step aside some?

  The bartender looked over his shoulder.

  "What, the news?"

  "Please," Alfred said. "Just for a moment."

  The bartender shrugged and walked away.

  Alfred loo
ked at the television, where a young female news anchor spoke mutely, while captioned subtitles interpreted the silence. He leaned closer and adjusted his glasses to clarify the words.

  "The worldwide hunt continues for the suspected terrorist responsible for last year's catastrophic explosion in southeast Asia."

  Alfred's mind went numb as Claire's face appeared on the screen.

  "Claire Foley is wanted for playing a major role in the destruction of a multimillion dollar research facility last October. According to authorities, the facility was dedicated to disease research and had made considerable progress toward potential cures for a variety of afflictions including cancer. A former researcher at the facility, Foley is suspected of having ties to a bioterrorist network known as BLOC Nine. Authorities say the group has been responsible for a number of attacks targeting everything from military facilities to hospitals. At the urging of the President, Congress recently passed a funding measure allocating billions of dollars to support efforts to identify and eliminate BLOC Nine agents. According to military experts, Foley currently stands as one of three primary targets, although the total number of suspects could exceed thousands in varying locations throughout the world."

  Alfred looked around the room. Others had also been reading and their faces showed fear and rage.

  "It's only a matter of time before they target something over here," one man said.

  Others agreed.

  "A cancer research facility," a woman said. "These people are evil."

  Everyone nodded.

  "This is the President's fault," another man said.

  "That's ridiculous," said another man. "He just put billions of dollars toward stopping them."

  "He had no choice," the first man said. "He should have done something sooner."

  Alfred downed his drink with a single swallow and placed his money beneath the glass. Then he stood and left, while the argument swelled behind him.

  Outside, the crowd has thinned substantially, leaving him to walk quietly and alone the rest of the way home. It was only a short walk to his apartment, but that didn't seem to matter to his tired legs, which ached and throbbed beneath the knees. He climbed the steps and opened the door. A young couple stood at the elevator, their infant daughter clutching her father's great voluminous hand.