Höllenbadt: Book two of the Torus Saga

by Berg, Michael

  Many of them dreamed of making it to the other cities, the other towns, where the authorities still had precedence and where people lived as they had mostly done for decades previous. It was just that the Agent did not allow those under his control to travel, and so many were forced back two centuries and lived like their very distant descendents, gathering, scrounging, and fighting over what was left. The Agent’s world was a world of vivid contrasts, where so many were implanted with technology on the inside which the Agent would service, but their life on the outside, was reminiscent of times of the steam age from the late nineteenth century. He held this over them, depriving them of what they had become accustomed to and he taunted them with snippets to remind them how much they missed it and how much they needed him, holding them in place almost entirely lacking in any sense of initiative, with viruses from the vortex amplifier.

  Yet unknowing to the Agent, his control had begun to rekindle the fire in some, the memories, and the strengths of what it took to survive in a world mostly deprived of comfort, of entertainment, and of convenience. Carmel was one such person, and more. She was unhindered by his rules, by his restrictions and so she lived in her house in the small town, without nearly the feelings of hopelessness so many others held.

  She had found at the derelict museum, an old engine. It was small and ran on steam, and she had repaired it to a state of operation it had probably not seen for nearly two centuries. Now, whenever she felt like it, she would start it up and it would chug along merrily, billowing little puffs of steam so she could watch it and immerse herself in its vapours. There was no real use, no real need, aside from her fascination.

  In contrast across the continent and over the seas, there were those still with the technology of the late twenty-first century. They played and worked with devices, electronic and holographic, but they had nothing new for over seven years and they were getting bored. Most of their lives were catered to with what the authorities could provide, but like the Agent they restricted access to most – for their sake of efficiency, so much more now than they had anticipated since their crackdown years before. For if they were to exhaust themselves then the Agent would win. The Agent would rule them all, and the Agent would take their lives and take their machines and he would ruin them.

  Their technology served them, but only just. It was bound to incursion from the Agent. Their jets, their robots, their networks, were mostly stood down, and those still in operation, ran on minimal capacity. They still had spacecraft which were more vital than ever – the mining operations beyond the Earth, their means to energy, and their means to survive. Gone were the regular updates to nano technology. Gone were the offerings of the latest in entertainment and thrilling new devices and gone was their drive, their motivation – they too were in survival mode.

  Today was a day to start her little engine and so she prepared the fuel, she checked its mechanical cogs and piston, and she struck up a fire. It gave to her something aside from the life subdued all around. She studied how it worked – so simple it seemed. She watched as it ran, all the parts working so well together and in sequence, and she learned. She learned how to repair it, she learned how to maintain it, and she learned much more that she unknowingly at this time would come to rely upon in the days ahead.

  As it chugged, its’ sound the only one about the house, it sent the puffs of steam to be cast upon the breeze and so it gave an effect of mist here and there and she loved this. It was the main reason why she ever ran the little steam engine – to create mist and in her mind, mist lead to mystery. Carmel loved a sense of mystery as her way of living and she clung to it as her way and as her defence, and she showed it with the little steam engine. For the faces of the many around her lacked a sense of mystery and looked for all the world, as downtrodden, sullen, and in surrender of themselves. And then, when she sounded the whistle attached to the steam outlet, it gave a cheery sound in reflection of her inner self as if she wanted to tell the world how she felt. It was a small voice, a small little voice, in a world embroiled in fear and sorrow.

  Chapter 4

  The Agent was beside himself with his own sense of achievement. He was about to bring on a new age, his age of further deprivation where the people would soon come to realise that his way was the only way ahead for them all. He powered up the vortex amplifier and the three Torus came to life with sporadic static charge flowing over them and between them. Two horns and a ring in the centre – it was his centre stage from which he cast the play for every scene. Such was its power and such was his malice that his latest invention would soon come to pass as being the main act, in a tragedy of tragedies. He did not care of the instability of the amplifier. He did not care of the uncontrolled vortexes he had cast upon the world. And he did not care of any of the consequences, so long as he had power and he had dominance.

  As he entered the sequence that would render so many lives unliveable, his macabre art forms began to take shape. The holographic bank showed them, it grew them and the amplifier was about to send them. When the last few motions left his fingers and he stood back to watch it happen, lives everywhere started to dissolve – slowly and surely dissolve. The Agent sent a virus to bring the void unto them in a slow and painful way as people began to lose cell integrity and their life force was extracted. He didn’t want their life force, it was not extracted for his use, it was simply extracted and they began to feel it.

  Such was their despair that the virus fed on this and so with each moment as despair grew, so too did the virus, feeding on the sorrow in their souls and in-turn, removing their souls. Soon they would become mere shells of humans and soon he would have killed so many there would not be enough numbers left for anyone to resist him. Within their bones, within their hearts, within their blood, they began to pass into non-existence as if they had never existed, as if their souls had never existed. And to these people, so many as there were, the loss of relevance through the loss of soul was the most horrifying thing they were to ever encounter. The pains of torture, and the pains of deprivation were nothing compared to the loss of relevance and the sense they felt that they did not exist – had never existed.

  Their screams went unheard and unattended for those to whom people were calling out for salvation, were in fact stricken with the same screams and the same eradication of humanity on a mass scale. They twisted and heaved. They spoke yet no words could be heard – nothing aside from the screams, silent screams, taking their breath away. Some would fight, tearing at themselves in a hopeless attempt to remove their nano technology implants, others would cut ever so deeply inside similarly to remove the technology, but it was all in vain – futile and pointless. On this day, the Agent unleashed his worst and with his worst came the deaths of millions, and so a great hush then spread across the Earth as he turned out the lights on so many lives.

  In defence, the authorities scrambled to build anti-viral software and they had some success, but this was reserved for those of priority and so by the time they distributed it the public at large, many had passed on. The towers became mausoleums of people stacked half a mile into the sky, the streets became the death beds of the poor, and there was now only those left who were at his mercy, through virus and through hate, he began to rule them all. On this day, the Earth lost many of its people and the rest were mostly his. There were those able to survive the virus despite their implants, and the rest would beckon unto him for survival, for food, for fuel.

  In nations across the globe, there was now only the authorities left in opposition, and people like Carmel. People who had neither technology or suffering in their hearts. People whom always resisted and people who sought to make it right again for it was their way, their elemental intention.

  She saw them in the town, suddenly stricken with a new type of fear, and she saw them in the town lying dead as the virus took hold. There were very few left by nightfall on that day, and so as beautiful as she was, as vibrant with life, then for five days she was stricken herself
– to gathering them and burying them. There were only a few others to help her and they worked hard to show the respect the many others deserved. By the end of it all, the small town north of San Francisco now had only twelve inhabitants and over three thousand now lay in graves.

  They were the fortunate ones, for many others massive in numbers, just lay dead in their apartments, lay dead in the streets, and lay dead not tendered with respect. The Agent was having his way, was having his power of repression, and above them all he flew in his spaceship. It could fly over the Earth and into space – it was designed to reflect space, and so it reflected dead space on the Earth.

  Without remorse, he flew over them and smiled his distorted smile seeing the suffering and pain below. He flew in low and engaged the ionic engines and those left whimpering, were suddenly sent to oblivion in its wake.

  Carmel finally had a chance to rest – it had been weeks now since the devastation of such finality had been wrought upon the people. She sat in her lounge, the little engine silent. It could not give her what it did on so many other days – it was silent like the cities, like the towns, and silent like the hearts. All except hers. Despite her weariness, she held true to her intentions, to the elements, and to progression. She could never fail these irresistible ways and she was about to be called upon by the many, to not fail them.

  She rose up from the lounge chair and looked around for solace. It was not something she regularly did for solace was always present in her elements, in her heart. But on this day, she needed solace, for the emptiness around her was heavy and pushing so hard against her that it took all her intentions to overcome. When at last her eyes rested on the garden outside, as she looked at the few flowers, their small aspect of colour gave her an idea. She went outside and tended them, clearing away weeds and turning the soil. As she turned the clods of damp earth, she saw in herself, a turning and refreshment so she decided then she would seek others, for in her heart she knew they were there, somewhere. At the last she noticed some new growth that in turn would become flowers, and she filled with anticipation, for to her the new growth was the impetus of her ideals, the impetus of progression and it must be made to maintain its activation.

  She paused at the arch laden with grape vines along the pathway leading back to the house. Underneath she stood as if it was a world separate to its own for and she felt more herself. Some grapes upon the vine were ripe and ready to eat, so she picked a few and let their juice slip down inside her. She toiled with their skins in her mouth and she tasted their sharpness in contrast to the juice. This was the world, as the depths of sweetness could never die despite the skin of the outside – dry and sharp. She would rid the evil wherever she encountered it. She would let the juice flow down the throat of the vortex and the vortex would balance, losing instability to return to its elemental manifest – a fait accompli.

  Chapter 5

  It was working hard and fast. It was lubricated by her love, lubricated by intention, and lubricated to progress. The little steam engine was at full power – the puffs of steam coming so regularly it looked now as if a fog had made its way indoors. She spun and danced about, sending the steam into eddies and currents. It would caress her and she would breathe it, loving the gentleness of its touch on her skin, and the warm moist feeling inside. And then it would return to gently float onto its next progression.

  A knock on the door. A knock! Nobody had knocked on her door for years – perhaps it was three years by her reckoning, but it was so seldom, it surprised her much more than any rudimentary casual passer by. She felt anticipation as she walked the few yards to the front door. She felt anticipation – it had not been so strong in her for a long time and now she remembered how she really was. All else drained away. Nobody knocked on doors – the minions of the Agent would simply burst in, and the authorities were long gone from these parts.

  It was John. John Matheson. He looked at her as she opened the door. He was not suspicious – he was smiling and so was she the split second she recognised him. Despite the hardship of the past eight years, he looked well and he seemed strong to her as ever. She could sense this – it was not a physical thing, but an internal knowing of his intentions she immediately recognised as feeling. As she ushered him inside, he noticed the small steam engine still puffing away at full power, and was intrigued. “Did you restore that?”

  “Yes John. I love it. Do you?”

  “It’s great. May I look?”

  “Of course, I would love you to look.”

  He watched it go through its motions again and again, and he admired the restoration job she had done – it was flawless. He noticed how the brass pipes and iron cogs shone with lustre as if they had just been polished, and he noticed the way it seemed to effortlessly push the piston back and forth, back and forth.

  “You know I have seen a lot of steam engines and other relics of the past in recent years with people turning back the pages in history as a means to manufacture and build these days, but I have never noticed one that works so well and looks so good. Mostly they are of barely operational condition.”

  “It is I John. It is how I am and so it shows me.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful John because you are like me and not lost like so many.”

  “Oh I have been lost. It has taken me a lot to get here. I could do with a drink.”

  “Of course. I can offer you pure juice from grapes I have made…”

  “That would be great. Thanks.” Carmel left him to watch the engine whilst she went to fetch the juice.

  “Here.” She held a glass out to him, which he accepted and then drank most of the contents.

  “You haven’t finished John,” Carmel said seeing him hold the glass as he stood there looking as though he was thinking about something.

  She had brought him back around, “I am never finished Carmel.”

  “Neither am I John.”

  He finished the juice and asked for another, which she promptly fetched from the kitchen. As she held it out to him, he appeared to again be lost in thought, “I think I know what you are thinking about John.”

  ‘Oh…”

  “Yes. You are thinking about what it took to get you here – to my house. And also, you are thinking about the time since we last saw each other.”

  “Hmm, you do have that knack Carmel. It was precisely what I was thinking about.”

  “I know.”

  “It was a long journey, and a hazardous journey.”

  “There are many hazards out there now John. Much more than those days eight years ago when we met. Do you remember?”

  “Of course. In the warehouse under the Bay Bridge.”

  “It was a wonderful night.”

  “Yes.”

  “So here we are now. What are we meeting for John aside from being the dearest of friends? I think I know that too, but I need to hear your words.”

  “Um, we need to talk Carmel…and act.”

  “I know John. Too much suffering is taking place.”

  “The Agent.”

  “Yes. I am moved in such bad ways by that man John.”

  “Why Carmel?”

  “He is the nemesis of so many and if he ever finds me, not that I think he is looking, he will be my nemesis too.”

  “Why Carmel?”

  “I was his superior once, back in times I have not entirely forgotten but I would rather forget. He is Agent Eight.”

  “Agent Eight!”

  “He is so full of hate and now he is dispensing it all over the world. I feel it is partly my fault. He escaped his punishment and I think it is because I was not hard enough on him.”

  “How could you be ‘hard’?”

  “I know it seems remote, but there was a time when I did not know myself and so I was acting a role…as part of the system.”

  “I guess we have all been to places like that. I too was once in the services.”

  “Do you know of Tobias?” Carmel as
ked him wondering if he had seen Tobias in recent times.

  “Um…yes. I think he is in the east.”

  “Can we help him?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. It has been six years since I saw him. I only know he was in the east…he could be anywhere now.”

  The steam engine let out a hiss, distracting them. “I think it is building up quite a head of steam,” John said.

  “It does that at times. I love the way it hisses, like it is talking to me.”

  “Internal pressure. It has to release.”

  “Sounds like a metaphor John, for the world as it is.”

  “So much pressure?”

  “Yes. People are the steam and the hiss is their calling John.” They both fell silent for a few moments, thinking how exactly this was the way.

  “And the others? Lorrain, Asper…?” Carmel asked, her mind turning back to their conversation.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen Lorraine for a couple of years. And the rest…for even longer. As for Raynie and Jake, I have not seen them since before we met. They were in Australia last I knew.”

  “That is where the Agent lives.”

  “Hmm, unlikely place for someone with such power, but yes.”

  “He likes it there. He is free to do what he likes. He owns the entire country now. All who live there are under his influence.”

  “Surely there are some…like us there?”

  “There must be. Not all people give in to him as easily or were forced to like so many were.”

  “Have you seen much of the world in recent years John? I have been here at my house for so long.”

  “There is not much to see Carmel. Many places I have been have thrown back like this town, to times past. It is as if the past two hundred years disappeared...except for their implants.”