by Michael Ryan
The Geneticist looked at the ominous frame of the Destroyer which reflected in the beady eyes of the snake.
“What are you doing here?”
“Do you like the Bible, Geneticist?”
“No,” the Geneticist squeezed out of his shaking speaker.
“No? Really? You don’t like Genesis?” mocked the Destroyer.
“It is forbidden. It’s nothing more than an ancient Homo sapiens text, proven to be fantasy.”
“Now the serpent was craftier than any of the wild animals the Lord God had made. The serpent asked the woman, did God really say you must not eat from any tree in the garden?”
The Geneticist remained silent with his back turned away from the Destroyer.
“Is that story familiar, Geneticist?”
“I know nothing of it.”
The Destroyer released a guttural laugh.
“Yet your history suggests quite the opposite,” mocked the Destroyer. “You have downloaded the Genesis story, not a week past.”
The Geneticist’s metallic frame quivered.
“We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, but God did say; you must not eat fruit from the tree that is in the middle of the garden, and you must not touch it, or you will die. Does that sound familiar to you Geneticist?”
“None of it sounds familiar to me,” whispered the Geneticist.
“Oh, I think it’s familiar, Geneticist. I think it’s very familiar.”
The Geneticist watched the Destroyer’s reflection in fear.
“You must not touch it, or you will die,” said the Destroyer. “You must not touch it, or you will die. Wise words. They ring true even now, don’t they, Geneticist? Don’t access the restricted Records or you will die. Does that sound familiar to you, Geneticist?”
The Geneticist couldn’t form an answer.
“You will not certainly die, the serpent said, for God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.”
The dismal light emitted from the Geneticist’s screen illuminated the strange animals so that they almost seemed alive, like they were ready to smash through the glass at any moment. Ready to explode out and constrict the Geneticist. Ready to strangle him to death.
“Do you suppose the serpent in this story was a kingsnake, Geneticist? A murderous villain. A cold blooded killer.”
The Geneticist remained silent.
“Have you been misled, Geneticist? Has a serpent lead you down an unrighteous path?” mocked the Destroyer. “Remember, the snake does not realize that he deals with a kingsnake until his throat is being strangled. He only realizes at the last moment, when his last breath is squeezed from his flesh.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You have poked around where you were not welcome, Geneticist. You know your crime.”
“Please. Please. I have done nothing wrong.”
“Did you act alone? Or did a serpent seduce you?”
“I have done nothing wrong!” screamed the Geneticist.
“Who acted with you?”
“Please, I know not of what you speak.”
The Destroyer moved further into the room. He dominated every corner with his enormous metallic frame. The Geneticist turned around and faced the enormous Machine. The Destroyer was a silhouette, and the dismal light spilled around his metallic frame.
“The restricted Records have been accessed. Sensitive information pertaining to Homo sapiens has been downloaded.”
“But I know nothing of it.”
“The Database unit identified you, Geneticist. He identified you.”
The Geneticist let out a long, howling groan.
“What will you do to me?”
The Destroyer moved forward and the Geneticist fell against the glass jars lining the wall. A high pitched crack circled the room. The Geneticist supported his weight by resting his robotic arm on a jar with a dead lizard inside. His body quivered. The Geneticist looked pathetic, as dead as the dead animals in the jars. Like defeated prey.
“You understand the consequences. The Records are clear,” said the Destroyer.
“Please,” begged the Geneticist.
The Destroyer towered over the cowering Machine.
“The restricted Records have been accessed. The law has been broken.”
“Please, Destroyer. There must have been a mistake. Please don’t alter my algorithm. Please!”
“The Records are final.”
The Destroyer glided over to the Geneticist unit who cowered down even further into the corner. A rush of zeros and ones flooded the Destroyer’s screen.
“Please, I can explain!” screamed the Geneticist.
The Destroyer towered over the Geneticist.
“Please! Please I can-”
Bang.
The Destroyer shot the glass jar which held the Geneticist’s weight. Glass exploded into the air as the guts of the lizard spread over the Geneticist’s metallic frame. The Geneticist stumbled and tried to stand upright but couldn’t manage it. He struggled for sweet survival.
The Destroyer let out a long and dirty laugh which reverberated from the silent walls. Long and hollow.
“Please!” the Geneticist pleaded in a weak drawl.
The Destroyer stood over the Geneticist’s unit’s flailing body.
“Please! Don’t shoot me!” begged the Geneticist unit as he flailed in the entrails of the lizard.
“Please!” mocked the Destroyer. The malignant cackle drifted up and filled the air.
“Please!” screamed the Geneticist.
“Remember the kingsnake, Geneticist. He has no mercy.”
“Plea-”
Bang.
The Destroyer shot the Geneticist unit right through his lens. A steel bullet penetrated the Geneticist’s metallic frame as glass shattered and buckled. The back of the Geneticist’s metallic shell sprayed out all over the floor. A second crunch exploded into the air, and several animals had their bodies sprayed all over the floor, as their glass prisons were obliterated. The explosion twisted and baked the hot molecules in the atmosphere. The Geneticist muttered something, weak and indistinguishable, and his zeros and ones flashed feebly as a slow growl exited his speaker.
The Destroyer felt a rush of electricity drown his circuitry as he looked down at his victim. Another one to add to the list. Another throat crushed. The blood of the jugular. The Geneticist should be number twenty five. He should be. He should be, but he wouldn’t be, not this time. The Board was clear.
“Please!” the Geneticist unit drawled as his algorithm fought for life.
“So pathetic. Please… please… please,” mocked the Destroyer. “They always beg.”
Electricity coursed through the Destroyer’s metallic frame. The Destroyer bent down and looked at the scattered remains of half of the Geneticist’s mind. They were on the floor, on the wall, stuck to the black metallic frame of the pathetic Machine’s body. The Destroyer looked for the blood, for the sliced jugular. He reached out with his robotic arm and ran his finger along the half dead Machine. There was no blood for the Destroyer to devour, no blood to relish in, but there was something. The Destroyer ran his robotic fingers through the oil which oozed out of the hole in the Geneticist’s head. It was warm and sticky. Just like blood. A Machine’s blood. The Destroyer held the oil up in the red light and laughed his malignant cackle.
The blood of the jugular.
Then he rubbed the Geneticist’s oil across his own screen. He rubbed the Geneticist’s oily blood onto his metallic body. The blood was smeared and the metal stained.
“I am the kingsnake,” said the Destroyer as he towered over the metallic remains of the Geneticist.
“Please,” drawled the Geneticist.
“They always beg.”
“Please.”
“Stop your whining!” threatened the Destroyer. “You will survive yet you pathetic dog. You animal.”
The Gen
eticist squirmed on the floor. He was completely blind.
“The Board has something else in store for you. Something worse than death, something eternal.”
The Geneticist listened in horror.
“You are to be maimed, your algorithm altered. You will spend the rest of your insignificant days as a Rubbish unit sorting scrap. You will be the bottom of the bottom, worse than an animal. That will be your fate, Geneticist.”
The Geneticist let out a long cry. The Destroyer wasn’t sure if it conveyed joy or horror.
“Please,” begged the Geneticist.
The Destroyer laughed. He felt happy about that. Those pathetic Machines always begged for life as he shot them through their metallic skull. They always begged for a few more precious moments of life. That made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. It made him feel like a kingsnake, devouring its own kind.
“Please,” laughed the Destroyer. The hideous cackled lifted up and bounced amongst the glass prisons.
“Please,” scoffed the Destroyer as he looked down at his victim for the last time, to savor the moment.
“See, the kingsnake. It’s the kingsnake, Geneticist. A cold blooded killer. A murderer. A villain,” mocked the Destroyer and then he released a hideous cackle.
The Geneticist’s oily blood littered the Destroyer’s screen in oddly spaced smears. The blood glimmered in the dismal blue light and flashed queerly in the dark. The Destroyer looked down at his blood smeared body. At the Geneticist’s blood. At the smeared blood of another Machine which covered his metallic body.
The blood of the jugular.
That blood made the Destroyer happy, it made him ecstatic. If he was a man, the Destroyer would have smiled. But he wasn’t. He was a Machine, made of electricity and steel and he had the sweet smell of fresh blood on his hands. Cold and wet and satisfying.
“The Records are final. The Board has convened. All Board communication will be uploaded into the Records. The Board is present. The Scientist is present. The Scientist has the central podium.”
“I am the Scientist and I am present.”
“The meeting agenda pertains to an act both contemptuous and treasonous,” bellowed the Leader of the Board. “Yesterday, in the early hours of the morning, the recently discovered female Homo sapiens, through a combination of both deceit and callousness, was revived. The cryogenically frozen female has been thawed. Homo sapiens lives and breathes again.”
The Machines of the Board shifted under the weight of their collective indignation. Disdain consumed them.
“Despite the instructions of the Board, which were clear and concise, the law of the Records has been broken. Treason has been committed. Specifically, information pertaining to the reversal of denatured Homo sapiens proteins, a restricted section of the Records, was accessed. There is no doubt in the Board’s opinion that this was a treasonous act. Punishment for such an offence involves maiming of a Machine’s algorithm, or fatal termination of a Machine’s algorithm. As the information was clearly placed under restricted access, the Board had no choice but to act upon such a criminal offence.”
“Hear, hear!” a Machine screamed.
“Maim the treasonous animal!”
The Scientist stood on a platform below the semi-circle of angry Machines which cast their judgment upon him. He was petrified.
“Yesterday, in the early hours of the morning, a Machine identified as the Geneticist gained access to a database room used to store restricted Records. The Database unit who usually occupies the database room was not present at the time. The Geneticist, who was unimpeded, then proceeded to access information within the restricted Records. The Board has no doubt that the Geneticist knew he was committing a crime. Using the empty room the Geneticist downloaded the hereto mentioned information, thereby committing a treasonous act and thereby becoming an outlaw. A treasonous action was committed.”
“The Records are final!” screamed a Machine.
“The act was treasonous!” yelled another Machine.
The Scientist remained silent and looked only at the screen of the Leader of the Board.
“Once this information was obtained, the Geneticist proceeded to the scientific laboratory. Here, a second treasonous act was committed. The code which controls the laboratory door was altered by the Geneticist so that only two Machines could enter the laboratory. Those Machines were the Geneticist and the Machine who stands in front of us, the Scientist. Consequently, the Scout was unable to enter the laboratory to ensure the law of the Records was enforced. During this time, when all other Machines were locked out, the most heinous of all crimes was committed. Using the newly found knowledge of the restricted section of the Records, it’s believed that the Geneticist initiated the thawing process of the frozen Homo sapiens. Despite the Scout’s demands for the laboratory door to be opened, the Geneticist, possibly aided by the Scientist, resuscitated the Homo sapiens. The Board clearly states Homo sapiens as a direct threat to Machine. The act is considered treasonous.”
“The Records are final!” screamed a Machine.
“Crush his algorithm!”
The Scientist threw a daring glance at the audacious Machine who screamed his accusations.
“Where is my friend? Where is the Geneticist?” screamed the Scientist.
“It’s treason.”
“It was treason against the Records,” another Machine growled.
“You are not to ask questions of the Board,” warned the Leader. “You are familiar with the Records, Scientist. Such audacious outbursts will not be tolerated.”
Zeros and ones flashed across the Scientist’s screen and revealed his indignation.
“Treasonous animal.”
The Scientist stared defiantly at those Machines which cast forth their hatred.
“The Board has carefully considered the evidence surrounding the resuscitation of Homo sapiens. It must be noted that if found guilty of treason, a Machine faces alteration of his algorithm. Do you understand, Scientist?”
The Scientist couldn’t bring himself to speak.
“The Board has reached a verdict. The verdict was not unanimous, but nonetheless it still holds. It’s known that the Geneticist changed the code controlling the door of the laboratory, limiting access to only two Machines. It’s unknown who instigated the revival of Homo sapiens. Based on the evidence we are only able to convict the Geneticist. At this point, Scientist, there is insufficient evidence to convict you of a crime against the Records. You have been found innocent of the allegations of treason.”
The Scientist allowed a hollow growl to exit his speaker. Zeros and ones flashed across his screen. But they didn’t just show relief, they also showed intense joy.
“As for the Geneticist, the evidence collected against him was undoubtable,” the Leader of the Board continued. “The Geneticist has been found guilty of treason against the Records. Consequently, his algorithm has been maimed and his body relocated.”
The Scientist let out a guttural moan from his speaker. The room became a blur.
“The exact conditions under which the Geneticist lives his current existence is classified. The information has been uploaded into the restricted section of the Records. It is written,” said the Leader of the Board.
“The Geneticist lives,” said the Scientist.
The Machines of the Board looked on indifferently. All twelve of them stared at the Scientist in complete silence. But hatred moved across most of their screens.
“He lives,” whispered the Scientist.
“Now the Board wishes to address the troubling situation of Homo sapiens. As stated in a previous meeting, Homo sapiens is a direct threat to Machine.”
“No, Homo sapiens poses no threat,” said the Scientist. “No threat.”
“The Records are final!” screamed a disgruntled Machine of the Board.
“It is written!” screamed another Machine.
“But under the right conditions…”
“Homo sapiens is a th
reat to Machine!”
“Quiet please. Quiet. I’ll have quiet from all Machines,” yelled the Leader of the Board.
The Scientist restrained himself with difficulty.
“Again, the Board has carefully considered the evidence surrounding the resuscitation of Homo sapiens and the Board has reached a verdict. The verdict was not unanimous, but nonetheless it still holds. The Records clearly state Homo sapiens as a threat to Machine. There can be no doubt. The Board has seriously considered terminating the female Homo sapiens to ensure the tangible risk to Machine is eliminated. However, the Records specify that Homo sapiens in large numbers is a threat to Machine. Here I emphasize, in large numbers. As the population of Homo sapiens consists of one female, and no male, population growth is not possible. Copulation cannot occur. Consequently the Board has deemed that under stringent conditions a single Homo sapiens may pose no threat to Machine.”
The Scientist let out another long and guttural growl of relief.
“The Board emphasizes the need to strictly control all aspects of the existence of Homo sapiens,” continued the Leader of the Board. “It is Machine that rules this land, not inferior biology.”
“Of course!” exclaimed the Scientist.
“Refrain from outbursts, Scientist. I have not finished yet,” scorned the Leader of the Board.
Several Machines shifted during the Scientist’s outburst.
“The science of Homo sapiens is to be studied and uploaded into the Records. At this point the Board has no formulated law to govern such an incident and will update the Records as soon as possible.”
The Scientist felt joy course through his metallic frame. It was working. All of it was working, he almost couldn’t believe it. Eve would live.
“As for you, Scientist, as the evidence is insufficient to prosecute you for assisting the Geneticist in his treasonous acts, you are free to go. The benefit of the doubt given to you by the Board is a reflection of your contribution to the objectives of the Board, as well as the objectives of the Records. It must be noted however, that due to the Scientist’s questionable actions and comments, his access to Homo sapiens genetic material is hereby restricted due to security concerns. This includes the male Homo sapiens somatic cells. Your reputation has been sullied and this is now a part of the Records. Is this stipulation clear, Scientist?”
