Beast Machine

by Brad McKinniss

  Silva was sitting in a short white leather chair that accommodated his portly stature and teeny-weeny fat legs. The chair felt like heaven to the fat man, who was now in one of the most powerful positions in human history, though very few knew his name and the power he held. His legacy, if ever revealed, would be one of great magnificence. Or he could go down in infamy as a mad scientist. “Either way, I’d be remembered,” thought Silva.

  “Thane,” called Silva softly. “Are you ready to meet our first local Arkansan practitioner?” Silva turned his head slightly, awaiting a response from Chairman Obelis’ one-man, brute-force security team.

  “Of course,” replied Thane plainly. His skin hadn’t shone for several days now and it began to worry the pure white fleshed giant. He had tremendous enthusiasm for his shining skin; he took pride in it when he was able to shine. Thane rarely expressed his internal emotions out loud, frankly, because he rarely had them, so he decided to keep this worry about his skin to himself as well. “No reason to express myself now to this fat doctor,” he thought.

  “Good,” said Silva. He gripped the handles of the white leather chair and rubbed his fingers over the leather. His eyes closed and he breathed in deeply. The leather was just so wonderful.

  The odd couple of Doctor Silva and Thane were at one of Chairman Obelis’ many houses in Arkansas. “The amount of homes Obelis has in the state of Arkansas is absurd – hell, the total amount of homes he possesses has to be unreal,” thought Silva. The house Silva and Thane were currently at was tucked into a dense forest off of a seldom used country road near a rural village of 200 people, give or take a few people. A person would have to know exactly where the home was to even come close to finding it.

  “You have the necessary tools to incapacitate the first individual? This will be our first test of implanting the Carda Implant on a doctor, and we’ll have to use force or other methods to incapacitate him.” Silva held a voice of confidence and strength, the near opposite of his pathetic voice just a few short months ago when he defecated himself.

  “Yes. I am no fool.” Thane severely disliked being associated with stupidity or idiocy. He would often be called a ‘dumbass’ or ‘fuck head’ or ‘mongoloid’ by foster parents because he often would not understand their orders or he just wouldn’t talk. He never settled in a permanent family so Thane often returned to orphanages where he would face the same verbal torment he faced in foster homes.

  Thane rarely acted violently, only in self-defense or if ordered to do so, as he had become fond of the works and methods of Martin Luther King, Jr., Mahatma Gandhi and Aldous Huxley at a young age. His acts of pacifism drew the ire of his peers too as they kept trying to goad him into fighting, but the taunts faded once Thane grew into his adult body quicker than the other children.

  “Violence is only to be used in emergencies and when I tell you to use it,” Chairman Obelis would tell Thane time and time again. Thane held true to these words, but would often use the idea of his strength to intimidate individuals.

  “I’m just making sure we are prepared,” reassured Silva to the giant man. “We are now associates, my friend, and I wouldn’t dare disrespect you, Chairman Obelis or this grand plan of his!” Silva still held quite the disdain for Thane. Silva had been planning revenge on Thane since that night they met, but those plans had to be shelved for the time being.

  Silva would sort out his revenge once he had enough power in his hands. He had held no more animosity toward Chairman Obelis, or his little worm Jeffrey, because of the opportunity he gave Silva.

  “I am sure,” said Thane. “Let us get this over with. I do not want to keep Chairman Obelis waiting any longer than he has to be waiting.”

  “Yes. Let’s get this over with, my friend.” Silva arose from his luxuriously comfortable leather chair. He walked toward the nearby door, the exit. “Are you coming, Thane?” Silva tilted his head slightly to look behind himself.

  “Do not screw this up, Silva,” said Thane, staring down through Silva’s soul. “I will do more than just cause you to shit yourself if this fails. Trust me.”

  Petrified but holding it together, Silva replied, “I would never think of ruining this for the world. Heh.” Silva laughed nervously. He pushed the door open and smiled widely at Thane.

  -----

  Thane drove a black SUV to the home of the first doctor on their list, while Silva inspected the file of the doctor. A “Bertrand Bertram” was the first medical doctor they would be visiting. Bertrand Bertram was a single man in his late 40s and enjoyed himself several beers a night. His file was pretty short on details but was enough to give Silva an idea of how the man lived.

  “Hm, maybe the Carda Implant will actually help this man out, huh Thane?” asked Silva. Silva was trying to be as genial as possible, albeit plastic sounding, to his giant companion.

  Thane looked over stiffly at Silva and then returned to looking forward at the vacant county road.

  “Guess not,” whispered Silva. He kept looking through the small file on Doctor Bertrand Bertram. Doctor Bertrand Bertram not only liked to drink several beers a night, he also liked to frequent local establishments that offered all-you-can-eat buffet dinners. Part of Doctor Bertrand Bertram’s file read:

  “Doctor Bertrand Bertram has been forcibly removed from eleven separate dining establishments after he had eaten the establishment’s entire stock of food. He was given disorderly conduct fines for each of the eleven removals, but was legally allowed back into the establishments as he had not broken any laws. The establishments, however, refused the doctor service after he kept eating their entire stock of food. Eventually, the doctor and the local eateries agreed to a max of three entrees per visit and no more than four visits per day. A contract was drawn up by a local lawyer in the town and was notarized by a Margaret Hill.

  This doctor was likely just as portly as Silva, possibly even fatter, and definitely uglier.

  “When does he find time to see his patients?” said Silva. “Even I don’t gorge myself this often!” Silva shook his gut with his right hand. “Need to lose this somehow. Haha, Thane, maybe I should put the Carda Implant in myself as motivation so I lose weight, huh?”

  Thane kept his eyes on the road and his hands firmly on the wheel.

  “Prick,” whispered Silva.

  -----

  “We are here,” said Thane as he pulled into a driveway. There was a maroon pickup truck with one door opened parked in the driveway close to the house. No lights were on in the house and there weren’t any street lights on the road.

  “Is that him right there?” asked Silva. Thane stopped the vehicle at the end of the driveway and turned the engine off. There was a slumbering man in the front yard with beer bottles and food wrappers spread all around him. “That can’t be him. What a mess!”

  Thane and Silva exited the vehicle. Thane walked toward the slumbering man, Silva gawked around to see if any of Doctor Bertrand Bertram’s neighbors were awake or watching. Silva did his best to move cautiously and prowl about the yard whilst looking about, but looked ridiculous. He walked like if a large man tried to walk a tightrope with a pineapple up his ass.

  “Must be a constant occurrence,” said Silva, still looking around, “because there isn’t a light on or a pair of eyes glaring. I’m not sure if anyone is home in those other houses, though.” He stopped prowling and stood up straight. “This guy is a train wreck. We’re effectively saving his life, Thane! Thane…?”

  While Silva had been gawking around, Thane had loaded up the fat Doctor Bertrand Bertram into the SUV. A loud THUD was heard when Thane tossed the man in the backend of the SUV, and another loud THUD was heard when he shut the trunk.

  “Be quiet!” whispered Silva loudly. He looked around cautiously.

  “Get back in the vehicle, Doctor Silva,” commanded Thane. Thane walked to the driver’s side door and entered the vehicle.

  “But… that’s it?” asked Silva as he rushed back to the SUV, causing his portl
y stature to shake and bounce and shake some more. His breaths were slow and gasp-filled as he approached the SUV. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened and why it was so damn easy.

  Silva entered the passenger side door and immediately turned his attention to the passed out Doctor Bertrand Bertram in the backend of the SUV. This other fat doctor was much fatter than Silva, so fat that it seemed impossible that even Thane could lift him into the SUV. There was an impressive tilt to the car too, despite Silva and Thane sitting in the frontend of the SUV.

  “If he vomits,” said Thane as he backed out of the driveway, “you are the one that has to clean it up.”

  “That’s absurd!” replied Silva to the giant man. “I’m a doctor for God’s sake, man! We do not do the work of custodians or peasants!”

  “That obese human in the backend of this SUV is a doctor as well. What is your point?” said Thane flatly.

  Silva, confounded by that statement, crossed his arms like an angsty teenager and pouted the rest of the drive back to the densely forested home of Chairman Obelis. Thane was pleased by the silence.

  -----

  A rudimentary, but sufficient, operating room had been prepped in the house, ready to be used to perform the necessary surgery for the Carda Implant. No one was really concerned if Doctor Bertrand Bertram got an infection during the procedure as the only sterile items were the surgical tools. Chairman Obelis just wanted the Carda implants in the doctors as soon as possible. He decided to forego his ‘hurt no innocent humans’ mantra for this part of his grand plan.

  Thane carried the disgustingly obese doctor into the house with relative ease. Silva was amazed by the amount of strength Thane possessed. Not to mention the finesse demonstrated whilst carrying the hefty Bertrand Bertram.

  “Surely, even carrying a man of this size has to put some strain on your body?” asked Silva. He walked beside Thane and then behind him into the house, watching every move Thane took.

  Thane ignored Silva’s question and plopped Doctor Bertrand Bertram onto the operating table causing the table to fall to the lowest possible setting: the floor. CRRIIINKKK! BOOM! went the operating table. Screws, bolts and other small parts of the table scrambled across the room.

  “What the fuck, Thane?” Silva said rushing in and checking the doctor’s pulse. A few fast food wrappers had stuck to Doctor Bertrand Bertram’s stomach. “He’s still alive but luckily still incapacitated, no thanks to you.” Silva glared at Thane and was returned with a look of apathy.

  “Do you need help with this man or should I go fetch the next doctor?” said Thane flatly. Silva pondered for a moment. “Please answer quickly.”

  “Well, I,” said Silva as he scratched his head. “Go on, get the next one. I’ll make do with this set up. Go, shoo, go!” He motioned Thane to leave. “Don’t get caught!”

  “Okay.” Thane left the house and reentered the SUV. He drove off into the night to fetch the next doctor, one that wouldn’t be passed out in front of a house.

  “This is going to be a long fucking night,” sighed Silva loudly. He pulled out another device – a circular tablet – and pressed his forefinger on the screen. He swiped his finger several directions and then stated, “I’m home!” loudly at the tablet.

  A woman’s voice came through the speakers, “Hello, my dear! It’s been a while, I’ve missed you. It’s lonely in the facility.”

  “As I have missed you,” he said to the tablet. “Will you keep me company while I operate on this piece of human trash?” He placed the tablet on the floor next to Doctor Bertrand Bertram’s body.

  “Of course, my dear, of course,” said the woman, Silva’s former lover Chelsey.

  Strange blue lights shot up from the tablet and the body of a tall, slender woman appeared. She bent down next to Silva, inspecting Doctor Bertrand Bertram’s body too.

  Silva turned toward the blue-ethereal woman and smiled, “I love you so much.”

  “And I love you, my dear. Will you be gutting this man like the others?”

  “Oh no, sweetheart, this man is a doctor and I need to put the Carda implant in him!”

  Though Chelsey was merely blue light and artificial intelligence, her facial features and reactions were absolutely real. Her features and reactions were all her own too, as Doctor Silva had made sure of that when Jeffrey helped create the hologram of Chelsey. “Doctor? This pig of pigs is a doctor?” Her face winced at the thought of this fat doctor giving instructions on trying to become healthy. Her body was humanlike, expectedly, but she lacked clothes, hair, nails, beauty marks and physical sexual organs, such as labia, clitoris and vagina. Aside from her head, she was basically see-through and had the body of a nippleless mannequin.

  “Yes, I know, I know. He doesn’t appear to be much more than the town drunk, but he is one of only two medical doctors that tend to the citizens of a small area. Plus, the ones I gutted were orphans and I used them to make the Carda Implants! No one will care about those orphans, but people will wonder where the town drunk is, despite him being a waste of life.”

  “Ah, yes, my love, you are correct. That memory had momentarily slipped my mind.”

  “Don’t fret, Chelsey, my love. Just sit back and watch me work.”

  Chelsey smiled and backed away from Silva as he adjusted Doctor Bertrand Bertram’s body to better suit the operation. She found a nearby chair and sat in the chair, though she more or less was projected on the chair.

  She began to hum a calming tune as Silva made the first incision in Doctor Bertrand Bertram’s neck. Glurk went Doctor Bertrand Bertram’s stomach; he was possibly still hungry, had irritable bowel syndrome or had bad acid reflux, among several other things wrong with his body.

  Silva would spare the fat doctor the pain he inflicted on unruly patients, like Charles Mandrake, so the operation could be completed quickly as he needed to operate on as many doctors as possible in the next few weeks.

  “One of these days, my love,” said Silva as he quickly operated on Doctor Bertrand Bertram, “I will upload you into a body of your very own.”

  Chapter 29

  Don’t Rant and Drive

  Gora was driving north toward the location she and her beasts had decided upon days before. Her three beasts should be completed with their task and should have hidden the cement truck appropriately in the nearby brush. Gora took in a deep breath and adjusted the radio dial of her rental car. Nothing but annoying static buzzing fell from the rental’s speakers. Bzzt.

  “We could have taken my Mercedes, you know,” said a deep, raspy voice. “It would have been the least I could do for what you’re doing for me. You may be saving my career if what you say about this carbon-dioxide vent is true.”

  Doctor Bridget Borehole was riding shotgun in Gora’s beat-up rental car. Gora held gigantic restraint by not just killing Doctor Borehole right then and there.

  “I could slam the car right into this wall divider and kill her,” thought Gora.

  Gora peered to her left. Then she peered to her right.

  “I could drive off one of these upcoming cliffs and jump out before she had a chance to do the same,” thought Gora. “It surely would work! It has to!”

  Gora placed her left hand on her left front pocket. She could feel her knife.

  “Fuck it,” thought Gora, “I’ll just pull over and stab this bitch to death.”

  Her thoughts were excessively violent and highly irrational, but the thoughts left when her rental car’s busted radio interrupted her thought process.

  Bzzt, bzzt, bzzzzzzzzzzt.

  Gora shook her head as if she had just woken up from a stupor. She refocused on the mission and looked ahead on the road. Doctor Borehole sat quietly and breathed slowly; her chest rising and falling dramatically with each breath.

  A billboard to Gora’s left read, “Abortion is terrorism! Life begins at conception!” The billboard had a picture of a young crying child in the foreground of a smoldering building. Gora cringed. The following billboard
advocated for the building of a new sports stadium in the nearby city at the expense of the local taxpayers. “Pass Levy SB-23! Don’t let our Fireballs leave town!” read the billboard. It was adorned with a picture of the team’s mascot, Petey the Fireball, giving thumbs up to the passing cars.

  “Those are terrible ideas,” thought Gora. “Killing Doctor Borehole that way would definitely lead right back to me and my beasts.” So her restraint held for the next few hours as she drove north and held idle conversation with the doctor.

  “Thank you,” replied Gora several minutes after Doctor Borehole had spoke, “but I have this rental and better get my money’s worth!” Gora tried to giggle but coughed instead, resulting in a hyena-like call. It wasn’t pretty.

  “Charming like usual,” Doctor Borehole replied. Doctor Borehole kept her eyes straight and her breathing consistently deep and slow. Bzzt.

  Maybe Doctor Borehole knew Gora was here to kill her, or she had been hit by a wall of relief that Gora really did discover a colossal carbon-dioxide vent disproving manmade pollution caused climate change. She seemed as if she were relieved to get out of the office and not have to deal with the politics of her controversial stance for a day.

  “I try,” stuttered Gora. She messed with the radio dials some more but the static merely got worse. BZZT. “You mentioned I’d be saving your career? How bad are things?” Gora looked over at Doctor Borehole, but Doctor Borehole kept her eyes straight ahead.

  “To be honest with you,” sighed Doctor Borehole, “it’s been a miserable fourteen months.” She rubbed her eyes with both hands then returned to her straightforward gaze. “A lot of donors and fellow doctors have dropped out from supporting my facility as more and more Americans – humans, really – agree that it is scientific fact that climate change is happening and humans are causing it.”