by Stone, J.
Alice looked up at them and simply responded, "Take your seats. We'll begin soon.”
The two complied, still looking confused; they all continued to wait for others to enter the classroom. Soon more began to join them and Alice asked them to do the same. When roughly twenty students had come in, the operative stood and began to speak to them.
"My name is Operative Page," she began. "As I’m sure you can guess I work directly for the Reclamation Bureau."
At this, many of the students began to quietly whisper to one another looking very surprised indeed. She gave them a moment before continuing, "Since you all showed up today, I'd expect you haven’t heard the news about what happened to your dear professor, though I expect most of you have heard that the C.E.R. was attacked last night.
“The two events are not unrelated. Yesterday the professor's ward, Erynn Clover, was selected as a lottery winner, and she was taken into the center’s custody. For reasons we have yet to fully ascertain, Professor Rowland decided to break into the center, leaving a path of destruction in his wake and freeing the young woman. They haven’t been seen since.
“The Cultwick authorities are now offering a considerable bounty for their capture. In addition, any information that can be used to hunt down these individuals will be rewarded.
"I, meanwhile, have been selected to investigate the professor's actions, find him, and bring them all to justice.” After a brief pause, she continued, “That brings us to you, his dear students. I humbly ask you for any and all information about what the professor would do, why he would choose to dishonor himself in such a way, or even any details about the professor's moral and social character."
Alice waited for anyone to speak up and after a moment added, "Please. Don't be shy, now. Cultwick greatly appreciates any information you can provide and of course advancement in the church could certainly be a perk to anyone with usable data."
There was another brief pause before a young woman spoke out, "He was opposed to the church teachings."
"Is that correct? In what way?" Alice asked.
Another student answered, "He didn't believe in using unwilling subjects."
"Really?" she pondered. "Why is that?"
"Who knows," he continued. "Though he did say that if you weren't willing to test something on yourself you shouldn’t give it to anyone else. But the church teaches us that the inferior members of our society are doing their part by giving themselves for experimentation."
"Quite right,” she noted. “So he was opposed to our fair lottery system, then?"
The crowd of students all agreed easily, nodding their heads.
"Did he ever speak on what he would do if he didn't work here?" she continued.
There was a longer pause this time and one student made the comment, "I heard he was offered a job at the center once."
"Yes," Alice began, "but that's not exactly useful information. That was some time ago and that's obviously not an option for him at this point, now is it?"
The student, admonished, looked down and spoke no further on the subject.
"Well," a quiet student upfront started.
"What's that, my dear? Speak up," Alice encouraged gently.
"Well, it's just,” she spoke a bit louder, "it's just that whenever he was upset with us... he'd make vague statements about finding a group of students who hadn't... his words... been 'brainwashed' by the church.”
Alice looked taken aback by such hostile words. "Brainwashed? Whatever did he mean?" she asked stepping toward the young girl.
"Well," she continued. "I guess he thought we had all already made up our minds on what we thought was right and wrong. That we had taken our sense of moral guidance from the church's teachings... so... maybe he would want to go somewhere the church didn't have as much of an influence on things."
Alice stopped to think for a moment. "I see," she eventually said. "What was your name, my dear?"
"Uh, Emily Waller, miss," she answered.
"Thank you, Ms. Waller. You've been a substantial help. I'll be sure to pass that along. And thank you all for your cooperation." Alice turned and quickly took her leave of the students and the lecture hall. She had one more stop to make - the center itself.
The operative arrived at the Center for Empirical Research to find the facility being cleaned up - bodies of guards and the lottery winners both were spread about the whole area. The guard detail looked to have increased dramatically since her last visit here - no doubt to stop any further breakouts from occurring in the wake of the previous evening's troubling events. She approached the set of guards at the entrance.
"Operative Page. I’m here to investigate last night's incident, gentlemen," she told them formally.
"We'll need to see some identification, ma'am," one of them said. "I'm sure you can understand our concern after last night.”
"Of course," Alice said and then lifted her left arm showing them the back of her hand. An intricate tattoo of church symbols that indicated her rank in the religion's hierarchy was etched into her skin.
"Apologies for the delay, ma'am," the guard said. "Go right ahead. Do you need directions?"
"No," she replied, moving forward. "I know where I'm going."
Alice continued through the building, following the hallway leading to the containment area for lottery winners. She was soon met with another guard, stationed at the entrance to the room with the black, riveted door. She was again asked to identify herself before proceeding inside.
In the center of the room was a guard station with no less than six guards watching over the remaining subjects. She entered the room and held up her hand declaring, "Operative Page. Show me her cell."
One of the guards grabbed a ring of keys and guided her down the hallway eventually stopping and unlocking the door to an empty unit. "This is it, ma'am," he said.
"Thank you," she replied, stepping into the cell and looking around briefly. "Can you get me the scientist in charge here, corpsman?"
"Of course, ma'am,” he answered. “I'll be back in a minute."
Alice nodded and continued to look at the empty cell, trying to piece together what was going on in the mind of the young apostate. She stood there for some time pondering on what she had learned thus far. It wasn’t long before the guard came back with a befuddled looking man in a white lab coat. Alice suspected that he had been woken in the middle of the night and had been questioned many times since then.
"Good afternoon, Dr...?" she began.
"Dr. Norton, miss," he said. "I was in charge of this subject.
"I see,” she replied flatly. “What did you inject her with before her escape, doctor?"
"Uh... well,” he began. “We called it Primer. It was a test on whether we could link two subjects on a mental level."
"Very interesting, doctor,” she said. “Am I right to guess there was another patient whom you attempted to link to Ms. Clover?”
“That’s correct,” he answered.
“Are we lucky enough to still have this other patient, doctor?” she asked.
"Over here," he pointed across the aisle of cells to the one directly opposite of the one she occupied.
"So..." she went on, approaching the other subject "did it work?"
"Hard to say. She escaped before we could capture any data. And this one," he said, pointing to the woman in the cage, "she's too far gone to really discern anything at this point. We've done so many tests to her over the years; I doubt she's of much use to anyone anymore. There was an electrical problem with her door last night. That's the only reason she's still here. The only one in the whole place."
"Thank you, doctor,” she said. “That will be all for now. I'm sure someone will be in touch with you very soon."
The doctor looked a bit baffled, and he and the guard both left her alone, staring into the cage. The woman was huddled in the corner, facing away from her and rocking back and forth. Alice watched her for a few minutes before asking, "What did you see la
st night, miss?"
The woman continued to rock back and forth, not appearing to have heard the question.
Alice, unwilling to give up just yet, glanced at a paper stuck to the side of the cage with a magnet. She pulled the paper out, to see that patient's name was Fiona Newton. Her chart’s history indicated she had been taken from a mental facility that she had been in since she was a young woman. Also detailed in her file were all the experiments that she had been subjected to over the years.
Cellular Regeneration, Hive Mind Research, Augmented Vigor Injections, Dexterous Muscle Fiber Replacement, Nerve Tissue Death Therapy, SC-Foresight Trials, and finally the Shared Mental Storage the doctor had mentioned. It was a shame none of the tests had yielded many results. This work could have been quite useful for the empire, she thought.
"So you were to share a consciousness with the heretic, Erynn Clover--" Alice paused when she saw the woman stop rocking and her ears perk up at the mention of the name. "Does that name mean something to you - Erynn Clover?"
The woman turned and stood up looking to be in quite a bit of pain. She walked over to Alice and asked, "Ryn?"
"Ryn? Is that what you call her?" Alice inquired.
"It hurts so much! The door will open. Metal will shine. Blood will spurt and flow. She’ll thank the good doctor for his good work. The western sun will burn so bright. She’ll find the jewel in the desert! And you. You...” The woman in the cage looked up at Alice with a pair of eerily bright, blue eyes.
“You...” she continued. “Page... You will make this happen. You will be responsible for the pain brought to Ryn."
“Who are you talking about?” Alice asked.
The patient paused, looking around for anyone listening. “Fiona,” she whispered.
Confused, Alice began “But I thought you were--”
“No!” the woman shouted. “I’m not her! She’s the one who will escape… the one with Ryn’s mind in her head! She’ll find her! She’ll do such horrible things to be with her again.”
A faint smile crept across Alice's face as she turned to walk away from the cell. She walked past the guards stationed at the command post, and one asked her, "Do you need anything else, ma'am?"
"No," she said. "I've got everything I need now."
Chapter 5. Rowland the Tonic Salesman
"Step right up!" Rowland shouted to the scarce few individuals walking through the nearly deserted town of Stonebrook. "Step right up! Get your miracle cures here! Tell me what itches, burns, bleeds, or otherwise hurts and I will cook up, on the spot, a miracle cure for whatever ails you! No malady or affliction is too severe or too dangerous for the mind of Professor Maxwell Rowland! I am at your service."
He had been attempting to sell his miracle tonics for some time, and he had received very little interest despite his many claims of brilliance. He had managed to sell one plague treatment to an older gentleman, but that wouldn’t be nearly enough to secure transport to the next town, Dust Grove.
Stonebrook was a small, mostly deserted town just to the west of Cultwick City. The streets were mostly empty and many of the buildings were dilapidated and abandoned.
Rowland’s hope was that Dust Grove would have a higher yield of job opportunities than Stonebrook. If they didn’t find anything there, then they would try their luck in the other towns in the west.
Ash Cloud was one of the bigger cities in the region, but his preference wasn’t to go there unless absolutely necessary. It was supposed to have a higher degree of empire control than he would like.
Then there was Chrome City and Red River, but unless they were interested in working the chromite mines or slaughtering cattle, those towns would probably have less to offer them. They might be able to find something in Willow Switch that would be more suitable to their talents though. It was the primary stop of the railway between Cultwick City and the western towns, but if they kept a low profile Erynn might be able to get a job as a chromesmith for the train engineers.
Probably their best hope, he thought, was Pendulum Falls. It was one of the more mechanically advanced cities in the region. It even rivaled that of the empire city in terms of raw machinery, but without the disdain for its creators.
Of the western towns, Pendulum Falls had also managed to keep the most independence of both the government and the Church of Biosynthesis. The town’s chief point of notoriety was their invention and manufacturing of the skyships. He had always wanted to ride in one of the creations, and he suspected that Erynn would love to as well, despite her fear of heights.
Germ, Erynn and even Tern had all gone off on their own in the small town - each attempting to find their own means of securing a little money. He hoped they were faring better than he was. It was then that Rowland spotted a young attractive woman with a bruise under her eye, and the fairly unsuccessful attempt to conceal it with a touch of makeup.
The professor approached her and said, "Greetings, madam. Perhaps I can offer you a medical salve to hurry the treatment of that injury?"
“No, thank you, mister,” she responded.
“Well then, perhaps, you would like a painkiller to numb the pain?” he asked.
“It doesn’t hurt too much anymore, mister.”
“Surely there is some way in which I can help you, madam. I would hate to think I couldn’t help a young woman in trouble when she needed it most.”
Stopping, the woman replied, “What I really need is a way to defend myself from that drunk of a husband I made the mistake of marrying, so unless you can bottle that, I’m not sure how much help you can really be.”
At this, the professor’s face lit up. “I believe I can do exactly that, madam.” The professor pulled out of his bag a small selection of vials filled with various liquids as well as one empty one.
He began carefully measuring out certain levels of the fluids and pouring them into the empty tube. He clumsily placed his thumb on the end of the tube and shook the vial, allowing some to spill out onto the sandy ground beneath their feet. Once the color had changed from a yellowish brown to a bright green, he pronounced the creation ready. The liquid smelled like rotten fish, and Rowland could only imagine the flavor that went along with it.
Rowland placed back the unused liquids into his bag and pulled out a syringe. He stuck the needle down into his concoction and pulled back the plunger, sucking the liquid into the glass tube of the syringe.
“Here you are, madam,” he announced. “This should rectify all your problems with your husband.” He held the syringe out for her to take.
“You say this will help me defend myself?” she asked warily.
“Indeed it will. Just one injection into your thigh will give you the strength to defend yourself from whatever threat you might face.”
“Well, I suppose it’s worth a try,” she said. “What do I owe you?”
“Whatever you can spare, dear,” he responded. “We are trying to get to Dust Grove and need to pay for transport.”
“Here’s all I have on my person, mister,” the woman said holding out a few coins. “There is a mechanical buggy that goes between here and Dust Grove every other day. It should probably be here a bit later on. This should pay for at least one person.”
“You have my thanks,” said the professor. “And good luck to you. I am sure your problems are at an end.”
The woman walked away, and Rowland found himself confident in his success. He suspected, however, that he had come to the end of his customers in this town, and decided to return to the location their group had determined to meet up after they had searched the town for financial opportunities - the First Chance Saloon.
Rowland pushed his way through the swinging double-doors of the dimly lit saloon and allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the bar’s interior. Inside were a series of circular tables, some of which were occupied by small groups of men with dice. The saloon had a musty, stale smell in the air as if some of the beverages had leaked and never been properly cleaned.
Behind the bar, a barkeep cleaned shot glasses with a tattered, off-white rag. He looked over his small, circular spectacles at him, as the professor walked toward the bar and took a seat on a stool.
“What can I getcha?” the man asked familiarly.
“Do you happen to have Red Eye Whiskey?” Rowland asked the barkeep.
“That stuff’s a little pricey for this place, mister,” he replied. “You’ll have to aim a bit lower.”
“Well, I suppose you can just bring me something on tap then,” he said.
The bartender grabbed a mug from below the counter and pulled a black lever with white lettering, labeled simply, ‘Beer.’ “Here you go,” said the man.
Rowland shuffled through his pocket and eventually pulled out a small coin, sliding it across the counter to the bartender. The man took the coin, placing it in his pocket and went about his business behind the bar.
In the corner of the saloon, the professor spotted a man sleeping. He had a Stetson slung down over his eyes and his feet were propped up in a nearby chair. The man looked like the pure embodiment of what the professor had always imagined the west to be like.
Rowland turned, putting his back to the bar and sipped on his beverage. He watched one of the groups of men playing their dice game and began to notice patterns in their behavior.
He sat there for some time, and despite having never played the game before or knowing anything about the rules came to several conclusions. The men, he thought, were being painfully obvious with their actions. If this was a game of bluffing, they were all doing a terrible job.
A fat balding man scratched the underside of his chin and raised the stakes. The man beside him, a tall gentleman with quite a tall top hat, blinked his eyes several times and raised as well. A dirty looking man with a pair of revolver pistols at his belt licked his lips and raised them still further. Finally, the last man in the circle, a clean, well-mannered gentleman looked under a cup concealing his dice, back up at his opponents and then finally gave in, revealing his rolls.
