Paragenesis: Stories of the Dawn of Wraeththu

by Constantine, Storm

  I nodded and patted Thorn on the shoulder. “Thanks.” Being the sort of har that people felt comfortable confiding in was definitely proving to be helpful.

  Inside the suite, I found Luster at his desk pushing about papers, as usual. “He’s been waiting,” he announced, his tone rather patronizing. If Manifest was disarming in his unpredictability, Luster was annoying in his predictability. As far as I was concerned, he was nothing more than an elevated pencil pusher with a lot of authority. I’d seen him kill out in the field, but more often his weapon was a searingly arrogant, cruel attitude. Although he had his uses, most hara in the tribe despised him.

  I strode past Luster and knocked on the principal’s door, using my own unique knock pattern, although with Manifest, you could be sure he always knew who was on the other side of the door, whether you knocked or not. “I’m waiting,” I heard him call, and in the same moment, my hands were on the doorknob letting myself in. Thorn was right; he certainly was impatient about something.

  Manifest was standing in the corner, hands clasped behind his back, looking like he’d just that moment stopped himself from pacing. Around him the room held its usual look – half war-room, with maps and notes strewn on every surface, half private study, with bookcases holding Manifest’s personal library and choice artwork, all seized, mounted on the walls.

  I greeted him and was waved into a chair. He gave me a summary of that day’s progress in the town and what they expected for the next day. Within the week, the town would be completely under our control. That afternoon they had secured the last of the gas stations. Meanwhile tribal business was going smoothly as well. In the locker room I hadn’t visited, fifteen inceptions were in progress. So far only two of the boys had died.

  Considering Manifest was our phylarch and I at that point only a minion, even if a rising one, it was a lot of information I was being given, almost as if I were his equal, maybe even his superior. “So what else is up, that you called me here?” I asked, wanting to bring the dynamic back to what seemed more usual while also displaying the directness I knew Manifest valued in me.

  “Well, to be honest, I wanted to hear about your day,” he said. “I hear you’ve done very well today in your recruiting.”

  I smiled at the compliment. “Yeah, pretty well. Do you want a report?”

  Manifest thought for a moment, then shook his head slightly. “No, not detailed, just how many?”

  “Twenty-one,” I replied. “All strong and healthy.”

  Manifest, who hadn’t taken a seat even during his lengthy report to me, now drifted towards the padded leather chair and sat down facing me, lacing his hands together on the desk. “Twenty-one? Well done.” He stared down at his hands, then looked up. “Anything special about any of them?”

  This was a usual question of his, any time we’d go over recruitment numbers. Often I would pick up on interesting character traits that other hara would miss in our new recruits, simply because I’d either observe them or get to know them before they were brought in to headquarters. Once they were brought into the waiting room and realized where they were and what was going on, their fear often warped any true reading of their character.

  An answer popped into my head almost before I could think. “Yes, the last one,” I said. “Found him last thing before I was coming back.”

  “Where was he?” Manifest asked.

  “He was staring at a fire actually, this row of houses burning down” I said. “It was the weirdest thing… He was just staring at it, not angry, not scared, not anything.”

  Manifest pushed back from the desk suddenly. “Staring at a fire?” When I nodded, he gazed at the floor, considering. “This is most… remarkable. Please go on. You say this boy is unusual?”

  I was starting to get nervous. It seemed like there was some relationship between Manifest’s agitation and my recruitment work. I hoped I’d be able to soothe him rather than piss him off. As I mentioned early, not pissing him off was a specialty of mine.

  So I told him about Sphinx. He didn’t have a name then, of course, but I described in some more detail him watching the fire and then about the tingling up my arm. Manifest leaned forward during this part of the story and asked me some questions about what kind of power I’d felt. “Just something really strong,” I said. He nodded and had me go on. I told him about the running, although left out the part about me thinking Sphinx was perhaps either crazy or an imbecile.

  Manifest figured out my game before I had even got to the part in the locker room, however. “He doesn’t speak, does he?”

  I did a double-take. “Um, no, he doesn’t, or at least, he hasn’t yet. How did you know?”

  Manifest looked up at the ceiling, then back to me, smiling. “Well, among other things, you haven’t said this boy’s name once and I know you usually get at least that information. Plus it would further account for why you mentioned this boy in the first place. Is there anything else?”

  A wave of relief washed over me. For some reason, I now felt I was on Manifest’s good side. “Yes, actually. When I left him in the waiting room, he grabbed my hand and I swear, I could feel his thoughts go right into me. I’m not really trained for that yet, but I swear, it happened.”

  “Fascinating,” Manifest said, rising from the desk. “This is a valuable find. I’d like you to bring him to dinner tonight.”

  For the second time that meeting, I did a double-take. “Excuse me?”

  The unpredictable feistiness that was Manifest’s trademark suddenly came to the fore. “You heard me – that’s an order. Believe me, I know when I’ve got a good thing, unlike some hara. Off with you until eight o’clock, officers’ dining room. Bring this boy with you. Luster will be there, but nobody else except a servant or guard. Got that?”

  “Got it, tiahaar.” Not that I had a clue what was going on, but I wasn’t going to piss him off by asking. “Am I dismissed?”

  Manifest was back in the corner, glancing at some notes. “Yes, yes, get out of here.”

  I had a feeling that in a sense, I had long since disappeared from the room. The only one Manifest cared about was Sphinx.

  Screams Are a Sound

  Sphinx

  Screams echoing, all around a shiver, but nobody talking. Pressed in the corner, cold cement against my back, I heard. Scream again. Scream. Nobody talking.

  Next to me, a fist so tight the knuckles are white. I stared at the hand, dirty, clenched. Clenched again with another scream. Then suddenly, the hand was gone, over a face. The boy’s face I saw, red, crying.

  The screams were far away, not there. Somewhere. Strange echoes of home. Screams are a sound. Something people do, but I don’t understand why.

  The boy saw me looking. Something, something, something, he said. Said it again. I listened, message flew into my head. His knuckles weren’t white anymore, they were red. The boy turned away from me.

  I don’t remember what I did, but the screams didn’t scare me.

  A Human Body

  Heart

  I headed down to the waiting room just before seven o’clock. I wanted to get Sphinx ready for dinner and I thought some preparation time was advisable. Not that I’d ever prepared any unhar for dinner with my phylarch. Hell no! Sure, I’d scrubbed some up in order to present them for inspection – Manifest or Luster normally showed up personally to inspect the recruits – but I’d never had to make them presentable for a formal occasion, just make them something more than loathsome humans.

  Coming across the connector hall to the gymnasium wing, I could already hear the screams. Fifteen boys undergoing althaia, Manifest had said, and they all, (all thirteen remaining), seemed to be screaming at once. Despite the number of times I’d heard it, I shuddered and felt myself squirming uncomfortably. Heading down the stairs to the waiting room, I reminded myself forcefully that not only was the pain they were going through a necessity, but it was a lot less than what I’d gone through. These boys had it good – unlike me. I’d been t
hrown in a kind of closet, in the dark, for several days. At one point that was our tribe’s usual method. Now we were more civilized; boys were locked in the changing room.

  Coming to the entrance of the waiting room, I was met by the guard, Rock. “Everything OK?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Well, so so. They hate the…” He cocked his head in the direction of the changing room. “Some of them were freaking.”

  “That’s normal,” I said, suppressing a shudder as another set of screams permeated the air. I pushed it out of my mind and said, “I’m here pick up the last recruit I brought in. Need to get him ready for dinner with Manifest.”

  Rock was incredulous. “Dinner? With Manifest? Sure you don’t mean dinner for Manifest?” he asked, chuckling.

  “No,” I replied, not joining in his apparent amusement. “He’s invited me and this unhar upstairs.” I stepped through the door and Rock followed me. “So do you still have all his clothes?”

  “His clothes?” Rock furrowed his brow. “Um… what was he wearing again?”

  I describe the outfit: thin gray pants and vee-necked short sleeve shirt, also in gray – some kind of hospital garb. As Rock walked off to retrieve the clothing from a storage locker, I gave the matter of clothing some thought. Why had this apparently healthy teenage boy been dressed in hospital garb?

  Anyway, a half a minute later, Rock returned with a metal basket of Sphinx’s clothes. I set it down on the desk near the entrance and pulled out the shirt. I was only seeing if it was clean, but then something caught my eye, a permanent ink stamp inside the collar:

  PROPERTY WELLS PSYCHIATRIC INSTITUTION

  “Oh shit,” I said, dropping the shirt and grabbing the pants – marked with the same stamp.

  How could I have been so stupid? I’d offered Manifest a mental patient as my most promising find of the day! Something told me Manifest wasn’t going to be pleased, but dinner was still on, that was orders, and so I had to go through with it. Clutching the basket, I headed into the main room to fetch the ex-patient.

  “Over there,” Rock pointed, once I was inside.

  Sphinx had found a dark corner to hide in. His face was in shadow, only his bare knees and lower legs catching the light. So pale, his skin. No wonder, if he’s been living in a mental ward, I thought.

  That whole fact explained a lot about him. Like the fact there most likely was something different going on in his head than in the other boys’. This probably wasn’t a good thing, however. Suddenly I felt a stab of panic: What would we do with him if he couldn’t be incepted? Would I have to take him back to town? Or would we just execute him?

  Approaching him through the mess of bodies – Rock at my side, in case any of them stirred – I almost felt pity for him.

  His eyes were closed when we reached him. “Wake up,” I said. After waiting a moment, I grabbed his knee and shook it. “You, wake up!”

  Rock shouldered me aside. “He’s a stubborn one. See that cut on his forehead? Wouldn’t let us move him when he came in, managed to smash it on a bench corner.” He went behind around Sphinx and pulled him up by the armpits. “What surprised me was, he didn’t cry at all. Didn’t react almost. Just found a spot for himself and closed his eyes.”

  Rock took my hand, then the boy’s, then joined them together. Sphinx’s palm was hot and dry, and through it I got another message: Away, away, away.

  “Thanks,” I said. Gently I pulled on Sphinx’s hand. Haltingly, but obviously willingly, he followed me towards the showers.

  I had no experience as a nursemaid. I picked the stall furthest down the aisle. “This one,” I said, coming to a halt and squeezing his hand. Glancing at the boy, I had no idea if he understood me or not. He might have, but the point was, he didn’t look at me when I spoke.

  I set the bundle of clothes on the bench in the dressing chamber. I parted the curtain for the shower, peered in, then looked back to Sphinx. Could he even wash himself? I turned on the water and adjusted it to something comfortable.

  The procedure turned out to be easier than I’d expected. All I had to do was lead him to the entrance and Sphinx stepped right in. Maybe this was how they’d done it at the institution, one of their routines. Relieved, I headed back down the hall to grab some soap and a towel.

  Rock noticed me rummaging in the supply box and came over. “Going to soap him up yourself?” he kidded.

  I straightened up. “No, actually I think he can do it himself.”

  “Too bad, he’s got a fine body.”

  Soap in one hand, a towel the other, I turned back down the aisle. “A human body, Rock. Lay off a bit.”

  I rushed up to the stall, intending to simply thrust the soap in Sphinx’s direction. What I saw when I rounded the corner stopped me in my tracks.

  The boy had sunk to the floor and was sitting cross-legged. Head bent forward, his hands were pressed together, fingertips to his forehead.

  “Are you praying?” I asked, forgetting myself.

  He didn’t answer me. The hot water poured down over him, tangling his dark curls into his face. He looked like something I’d seen in church, some kind of holy statue.

  I looked at the soap. Ironic, it seemed, to clean up someone who at that moment looked the epitome of purity, but I suspected the cleaning was necessary, so I pressed on with it. Stepping in, I took hold of those praying hands and slipped the soap between them.

  The response was automatic; he gracefully rose to his feet and began to scrub himself.

  I stepped back to observe. There was nothing unusual about his method. Then again, I thought to myself, probably monkeys could learn to wash themselves. It wasn’t a difficult thing. Call me cold, but finding out where Sphinx had come from had drastically reduced my estimate of him. I hadn’t brought back a choice inceptee – I’d brought back a sick lab animal.

  All the same, even through that fog of misgivings, I couldn’t help developing some positive impressions. As Rock had said, the boy had a fine body, with narrow hips and a broad, yet slender, chest, and a lovely neck dripping with his curls. His humanity kept me from wanting him in the true sense, but my systems were charged nonetheless. But would he ever be har?

  Sphinx finished washing. He didn’t look at me or say anything, but stood waiting. I took up the towel and leaned into the shower past him to turn off the water.

  When I said “Here, let me,” I wasn’t even thinking. He didn’t resist, but let me dry him off like a child. The feel of his shoulder muscles beneath my hands was enough to bring me fully ouana.

  I stepped away and slowly exhaled. “You must stop this,” I said to myself, out loud but quietly. Stretching my arm as far as it would go, I offered the towel to Sphinx, hoping he could finish off himself. Luckily for me, he did, and by the time he was through I’d managed to get myself in order.

  By then the dinner hour was fast approaching. I held out the shirt and Sphinx came right up and put it on. It was the same for the rest of the clothes and in a couple of minutes we were through. At least the boy isn’t a complete imbecile, I thought, a tiny bit relieved.

  But time for dinner. I took his hand. “We’re going to eat now,” I announced. “Just follow along and soon we’ll be having the grandest meal in town.” I didn’t know if he understood a word, but when I began to walk down the aisle, he followed right along.

  Food on the Table

  Sphinx

  Growling stomach as the doors went by. So many doors. The doorknobs round and golden, like golden apples. I passed so many of them, quickly, as I went... went somewhere. It was upstairs, up several stairs, down halls, and then a big door, with another shiny golden apple doorknob.

  The one with me knocked and the door opened. Some slim shadow person moved out of the way. Besides the shadow, only two people were at the table. It was a big table – with food on it. Dinner. My eyes understood what my ears had not. I followed along and sat down quickly, willingly.

  It was the first food I’d seen all day. I tried to rea
ch for some of the bread in the basket next to me but somebody grabbed my arm. No bread, had to wait. Waiting I knew – knew if I didn’t, something would happen – something bad. So instead of taking the food, I saw the people.

  A golden man looked at me, from across the table. He had golden eyes, hair, shirt, everything gold. In the sun he would have made shining warm light. In the light inside, his eyes were cold.

  Next to him was the one who’d brought me. I had not looked at him much before. Golden hair, too, like the other one, but dark clothes. He was smiling as he said something to the last man.

  The last man was right next to me. He wasn’t so much a man as something else, like some kind of machine. People give off energy and he gave off a lot of it. And the way he was looking at me, I felt the energy come in my direction.

  Something, something, something, he said, and took up a fork to eat. Waiting was over and for me, he was gone, or might as well have been. I grabbed a piece of bread. Meat. Something green. No more looking at people, just eating.

  Then, just as I took my first bite of bread: It’s you.

  The Turning Point

  Heart

  That dinner had turned into a disaster. Or so it seemed at first, as the four of us sat at the table, three of us talking, Thorn to the side, serving, and Sphinx attacking his food like a hungry wolf.

  I had half-expected Manifest to either shout or laugh me into the hallway as soon as he saw what Sphinx was like. But even though he hadn’t done that, I was still tense, waiting for the inevitable attack on my judgment. I had made a poor decision and I was waiting to be called on it. There was no way Sphinx was any kind of choice recruit.

  Manifest didn’t seem ready to make any snap decisions, however – despite the fact Sphinx hadn’t spoken a word, didn’t appear to be listening to anything (said or said to him), and had absolutely horrendous table manners. Instead, Manifest calmly ate his dinner, passing idle conversation while staring at Sphinx intently.