by Den Warren
"We do what we have to."
They were getting close to their destination. Mark's heart started pounding.
They made it to the front gate of the UCA campus without getting picked up for the mega- littering incident along the highway. "Oh n0! Edgar! That guy looks just like you! Cover your face!"
Edgar sat back in his seat so Mark’s head blocked the guard's line of sight to him. Mark rolled down the window.
"Where you headed?" The guard said.
"Ummm. . ." Mark whacked Edgar on the leg with his leg, relying upon Edgar’s memory of their final destination.
"F34C," Edgar said under his breath.
Mark said, "I need to get to F34C right away."
"Oh, part of the cleanup, huh?" The guard circled the building on a paper map. Then he handed it to Mark. "Okay. You can see where we are now, and your building is over there."
"Got it. Thanks."
"Ah. . .One more thing, sir," the guard said.
"Yes?" Mark thought, this can't be good.
"I need you to sign in."
"Sure, no problem." Mark signed the device and drove in. He handed the map to Edgar to navigate around the enormous complex.
As they travelled inside the compound, Edgar said, “That guy looked nothing like me.”
"I can’t believe it," Mark said, "It must be two miles back to this building. That was smooth, the way you backed up in your seat so the guard couldn't see you, I mean. Aw! Again?!" Mark saw another checkpoint up ahead.
"I told you," Edgar said.
"Shut up. We'll be okay."
There was another fence within the compound. There was a female guard at the gate. There was a sign that read, "All unauthorized males going past this point will be auto-convicted of sexual crimes." Another sign said, "All Vehicles Photographed."
"It's the female section," Edgar said.
"I get that." Mark stopped and rolled down the window again. He told the guard, "We're here for the cleanup."
The guard sneered at them. She was rudely silent, but waved them on.
They passed row upon row of boring, plain looking, identical 3-D print constructed buildings. Mark thought it was a little weird that they saw no one outside of any of them.
"Turn right," Edgar said. "Right here."
"Here?" Mark said, slamming on the brakes.
"Recalculating," Edgar said, trying to sound like an ancient synthetic voice.
"You're a riot," Mark said. He backed up and turned right. They passed by more four-story buildings and counted down the numbers on the front.
"F34D, C, B, A, here we are," Edgar said.
Mark couldn't believe he was actually there. "So what do we do next?"
"Go in and talk to them," Edgar said.
"What do you mean talk to them? They'll all want to flee for their lives, right?"
"I doubt it, but you could give that a try."
"Huh?"
Edgar motioned for Mark to go into the building.
"Oh no, Eddie boy, you're going too."
"Fine. I'll go too."
Chapter 27
Mark and Edgar walked into the front door of F34C. The entrance was a large room with tables and chairs that could seat hundreds of girls at a time. In the main room at the time, there were about a hundred identical ten year-old girls, identically dressed except for their name labels. The girls were chatting and studying and walking around. Many of them turned to stare at the two uninvited men.
There was a woman attendant sitting at a desk behind a counter. She looked identical to the woman guarding the entrance gate to the female side of the residences. She made a face when she obviously caught a whiff of their ever present garbage smell. "May I help you?"
"Yes you may," Mark said. "We're here to pick up as many girls as possible, and take them away from here."
She became quite concerned and serious. "Excuse me, sir, but I wasn't informed of this."
"Well, here's the thing; I'm informing you right now."
She stood motionless for a couple of seconds. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"What? You don't understand that there are some people who object to you killing off hundreds of innocent children? Just sayin'."
"I'm afraid I'll have to report you. . ." She pulled out a com device.
Mark casually grabbed the com out of her hand and dropped it on the floor and stomped it with his foot. "No you're not."
The attendant said, "You'll never get away with this. There are cameras everywhere."
"Don't care. Eddy, is there an intercom here? I want to talk to all the girls in the building."
Edgar said, "Try over by the counter."
The attendant tried to block Mark from using the microphone. Mark shoved her out of the way. The woman shrieked and ran out the front door. Many of the children gave a collective gasp at the aggressive scene.
"Man, I wish I had a gun right now." Mark walked behind the desk. He saw the microphone that was at the side of the chair. There was a "speak" button on it. "ATTENTION. . .GIRLS. . .MY NAME IS MARK. I AM HERE TO RESCUE YOU. PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT DOOR."
No one moved. Some of them slowly moved toward Mark.
Mark said, "Are you ready to go?"
"What happened to your face?" one of the girls asked Edgar.
"It's multiple abrasions, and ecchymosis." Edgar said.
The girls backed up a step. “Eew.”
"Never mind him. He got a boo boo. What's wrong with you girls? You want to get made into sausage? C'mon! I'm here to take you away!"
"How do we know you're telling the truth?" one of the girls asked.
"Huh?"
"We don't trust anyone like you," another girl said. “You look weird. And stink.”
Mark said, "If we didn't care about you, we wouldn't be here. Don't you girls know that they are going to put you into a grinder? Then you really won’t care what we smell like."
"That's a lie!" a girl said.
They looked increasingly scared.
Another said, "No, the grinder is just made up! It’s not real!"
Yet another girl said, "You're just a clone hater trying to control us!"
Many more girls who had heard Mark's announcement were looking to see what was going on.
Mark started to wonder why he was risking his life for the uncooperative clonettes. Why did he have to plead with them to accept his invitation of salvation via the garbage truck? He got back on the paging system. "LOOK, GIRLS, IT SAYS RIGHT ON MY DEVICE THAT EVERYONE IN THIS ENTIRE BUILDING IS GOING TO BE CULLED. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? THEY ARE GOING TO THROW YOU ALL IN THE GRINDER LIKE A PIECE OF GARBAGE! NOW IF YOU WANT TO AVOID THAT, WHICH I HIGHLY RECOMMEND, THEN COME DOWN TO THE FRONT DOOR AND MY FRIEND AND I WILL TAKE YOU OUT OF HERE! FOLLOW ME AND LIVE!"
"Anyone can write on a device!" a girl said. Others were saying; "It's a lie!" "You're scaring us. You're mean," Many started crying. "There's no such grinder." Some of the girls were running back to their capsule dormitories. "The UCA will protect us!" "There's nothing wrong with us! The UCA would never do that to us!" "You don't belong here!" "Get out!" "EEEEEEEE!"
Mark put his hands over his ears because of all of the shrill complaints.
One teary eyed girl came forward. "I want to go."
The other girls tried to pull her back. "Don't be stupid!" one said. "We're not going with them!"
"What if he is right?!" the daring girl said to the other girls while she stared at Mark. She had a “Julia 119” patch on her jumpsuit.
"If you go, you deserve to die!" one of the other Julias objected.
"119! I'll go with you!"
Julia 119 and Julia 38 hugged each other.
Then several more Julias came forward.
"We gotta get going!" Edgar said. "We're running out of time, otherwise no one will make it!"
"THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE. WE ARE LEAVING NOW. I KNOW YOU WILL REMEMBER THIS MOMENT AND WISH YOU WOULD HAVE CHOSEN TO COME WITH US. PLEASE. WE ARE LEAV
ING NOW."
A few more of the terrified girls moved next to Mark, who turned and went out the front door. Only the girls who wanted to escape followed him. Once they got outside, a couple of the girls took a look at the garbage truck and changed their minds, then went back into the building.
"Girls!" Mark shouted at those who changed their minds. Mark wished at that moment that the truck was more pretty, but the girl-unfriendly truck was the only way out for them.
"I know, I know," Mark said. “Maybe we should just grab some of them.”
“No,” Edgar said. “If we do that, the volunteers will run away.”
"We gotta go! Right now!" Edgar pleaded one last time.
Mark raised the hydraulic compactor to reveal an almost completely empty, but still dark, wet, and stinky, all steel box. The girls cowered at the sound.
"Get in, girls, it won't hurt you. Come on! We'll help you! Hurry!"
Two by two the sobbing, trembling girls were loaded into the truck with the aid of Mark and Edgar. Mark lowered the compactor gate and the scared girls shuddered.
The last girl just stood there, refusing to get into the back.
"Get in the front!" Edgar told the girl. "Now!"
Mark and Edgar got into the cab of the truck with the girl in the middle and pulled away. Mark floored the pedal and the gas combustion engine truck roared, struggling to get up to full speed.
"Why?!" Mark said. "Why didn't more of them come with us?!"
Edgar said, "I'll be surprised if this place is not locked down already."
"Maybe that attendant really wanted us to escape and she took her time reporting us."
"Yes, that is very possible," Edgar said. “I’m sure not everyone on the staff is fully indoctrinated with the UCA ways.”
The truck passed the Female section checkpoint on its way out without incident, although the guard's face was frozen with confusion when she saw Edgar's familiar looking face passing by. Edgar waved at her.
The guard at the main gate was shutting the motor-driven sturdy industrial strength fence. Mark laid on the horn as the truck approached. The truck crashed into the gate. Upon impact, the gate buckled and the truck jolted from the impact. Mark almost lost control of the truck. But the smashed-in truck kept going through the destroyed gate. The girls in the back could be heard sliding and thumping around and screaming.
After they pulled away, and they took a deep breath, Mark said, "I don't know how far we can get with everyone and their cousin looking for a dinged up garbage truck."
Edgar said, "I forget; what's a cousin?"
"For you clones, it’s probably the same thing as one of your brothers.”
“What?”
“It’s kind of like how you are your own uncle.”
Chapter 28
Hartford, Homeland
In her cramped quarters within the secret Lucid lair, Beth pulled out a small toy mouse out of her bag of items that she hastily grabbed from their house when they evacuated.
The toy mouse said, “Hi Beth.”
Beth said, “Shut up, mouse. I don’t feel like talking.”
Beth sat on her bed and fidgeted with the toy. A tear ran down her cheek. Her mother came into the room and she quickly put the mouse back into the bag and looked away.
Sharon Thomas said, “I know, Baby. It’s tough that we are stuck here, and I know that Milton caused all of this.”
“When can we leave?” Beth said, whimpering.
“I don’t know yet. It’s not safe out there right now for us.”
“Can we . . . ever?”
Sharon hugged her and said, “I promise we will get ourselves out of here and we will run away to someplace safe. But not until the time is right, okay?”
Beth nodded.
*******
Meanwhile, in the control room a televised report came on one of the screens.
Milton verbally commanded to the monitors, “Sound off. Sound on three,” which gave them sound to only one of the screens.
“. . . Economists say that Lucid terrorists are to blame for disruption in the centralized distribution system because of tampering with schedules and hacking into sensitive files. Consumers are apprehensive because they suspect sabotage by Lucid terrorists at every turn.”
Milton woke Sleepy and said, “What did you bots do? There is like a total meltdown going on out there!”
Sleepy said, “We are not doing 78 percent of what they are saying that we did. However, those other actions still benefit our cause if they believe we are responsible.”
“Yeah,” Milton said, “and gets me into more and more trouble! Most people hate what you are doing and they hate me.”
Sleepy said, “You are only getting 8 percent of the blame for the mayhem.”
The news report continued; “So who is this boy behind all of this trouble?” A gallery of pictures of Milton came onto the screen.
Milton said, “Yeah, right! Eight percent! I don’t want to hear any more of your statistics!”
“His name is Milton Thomas, from Hartford. Milton was born with random genetics into a retro-fashioned limited family model.” This was a marginalizing description used for a traditional family that was structured around a marriage of one man and one woman.
“Milton was once a regular child and lived a normal life. He had friends like any other young boy before he became involved in android agitation.”
Milton said, “Android agitation?!”
“Milton somehow discovered that an old Tekujin series of androids known as the Lucid Series was corruptible and that they were networked together. Now the whole Lucid Series of androids has brought android anarchy to peaceful Homeland society. Was this all caused by the divisive actions of a mere child?”
“Android anarchy?!” Milton exclaimed.
“Everyone is asking ‘why?’ Why would a boy create so much trouble for so many? I sat down with Dr. Lorenzo, child psychologist who worked with Milton. Let’s listen . . .”
Dr. Lorenzo was shown wearing her best dress and makeup, clearly wanting to make the most of her appearance before a large television audience. She said, “Milton has mystical delusions. He has become full of hostility and is acting it out on society. At the time we thought it best that he should be heavily dosed with the commonly prescribed drug, Notuda. Unfortunately, he is probably not taking his prescribed medicine, and you can see the results. Quite predictable.”
The interviewer said in a serious tone of concern, “So, Dr. Lorenzo, how does this all end for this misguided young boy?”
Dr. Lorenzo said, “Not very well, I’m afraid. We see this every time among those who dabble in mysticism. I urge everyone to use caution and not to overreact if they come into contact with this potentially dangerous child. Remember, even though he has caused so much pain for so many, he is still just a very confused young boy.”
“We also spoke to Milton’s Principal at his school. . . “Mr. Stafford, did you notice anything unusual about Milton’s behavior while he was at school?”
“Yes. Milton did not get along with the other children and often caused fights. He agitated the other children as much as he did the androids, like the android we were using as a janitor which has to be scrapped as soon as we can locate it.”
“Come on!” Milton screamed.
Sleepy said, “Humans place an inordinately high priority on how they are perceived by other humans.”
Milton said, “Well there are a lot of really good reasons for that!”
Chapter 29
Outside Montpelier, Homeland
Where are we going, by the way?" Mark asked Edgar, hoping for some kind of a plan after they brazenly rescued clone girls.
"I’ll have to take these girls with me to the farm in the Green Mountains," Edgar said.
"Okay. We'll give it our best shot. Take us only down the back country roads, Edgar. I know it will take longer, but maybe we can sneak in there before the Homeland Police sees us.” He looked at the gas gage an
d said, “Or before we run out of gas.”
Edgar gave Mark the directions to the farm as they travelled. There were a lot of turns and stops.
“It seems that we have evaded the police,” Edgar said.
They took their time going down less travelled back roads. As usual, they saw very few cars on the way. But the winding route was slow going.
“We are doing great,” Mark said. “But we are still a smashed in garbage truck. Not something that someone can miss if they are looking for one.”
Edgar said, “Maybe people want us to get away.”
“Yeah, don’t count too much on that.”
Julia 47, who was sitting between Edgar and Mark, pointed out the windshield and asked, “What’s that?’
Edgar said, “That’s a guy riding a bicycle.”
She sat there awhile, then she asked, “How does it keep from falling down?”
“I have no idea,” Edgar said.
A couple of minutes later, Julia 47 asked, “What’s that?”
Edgar said, “A dead animal of some sort. A vehicle hit it.”
Then Julia 47 asked Mark, “Are you really going to save us?”
“I’m going to try.”
She sat silently for a few moments, then said, “Thank you.”
That was the first time that Mark got any indication that his self-sacrificial actions were being appreciated by anyone. No matter, he thought, it had to be done regardless of the consequences.
Mark put on the radio in the truck to see if they made the news. Some of the channels had programming that was directed toward the clone listening audience, which he skipped over. Then an amber alert came over the station. “Two pedophiles; an FCI named Mark, and a clone, had kidnapped 12 girls from the UCA. The dangerous autoconvicted sexual offenders also killed a sanitation worker and stole a truck, and dumped tons of raw trash in the open countryside. The two outlaws are believed to be dangerous and a reward is offered for the capture of the men and the girls’ safe return.”
Julia 47 asked, “Who are they talking about?”
Mark shut off the radio. “That’s too much racket.”
