Dr Morgan

by Terry M. West

  "Do you know nothing of lifebrand?" Dr. Rausch said unbelievingly. "How can you know so little about your own men?"

  "Easy, Dr. Rausch," the Chancellor finally chimed in.

  "I cannot harm myself or any other," Dr. Morgan added, taking the heat from her. "It is how I was engineered, General Workman. If it were otherwise, I would have happily preferred to trigger my own ascension."

  "Maybe the engineering should be changed then. Allow these Band-Aids to do more than stand around and wait for wounds to lick," General Workman said.

  "Is something like that possible?" the Chancellor turned to Dr. Rausch.

  She shook her head. "It creates too many variables and conflicts in the lifebrand."

  "How dare you, General Workman." Dr. Morgan's eyes spat fire at the general. "Have your boots ever nicked a battlefield? You sit down here and stare at blips on a screen. And when they flicker out, you fill the screen again. You insult not only I but every medic that has served the 45th. And what you are too thick to understand is that killing is the easy part. Dying is the easy part. Do you want to know the hard part? Feeling a brother's life flee from between your bloodied fingers. A brother you have laughed with, in the quiet. A brother who pushed you from the line of sniper fire. If you think I find it easy, watching my brothers perish, knowing the care I tender will be undone sooner rather than later, then you have no business wearing that uniform."

  General Workman slammed his fists on the table and stood. "I want that man taken from here in irons!"

  "Enough! Both of you!" the Chancellor bellowed. "You have taken quite the piss and it ends now. You are lucky the mic wasn't hot. But you in particular, Dr. Morgan, have no business speaking like you did. You are not to address a superior in such a fashion."

  "If I may, Chancellor. Dr. Morgan's inhibitor is malfunctioning. He is down to ten percent capacity," Dr. Rausch said. "I have scheduled him for a new implant tomorrow. He can't be held responsible for his words and the General has put unnecessary stress on his mental facility."

  The Chancellor nodded as understanding lit his face. "That explains things. The outburst is forgiven."

  "Thank you, sir. And I do apologize to you, General Workman. The ordeal has been difficult. But it doesn't excuse my words," Dr. Morgan said, trying to pull back from his perilous proximity to the brig.

  The General wiped his face with a table napkin and ignored Dr. Morgan.

  The Chancellor looked to Phillip. "You, boy. Are you Dr. Morgan's handler?"

  "Yes, your grace," Phillip said, with a polite smile and horrified eyes.

  "Bring him to my chamber after this."

  The Chancellor turned to Dr. Morgan. "We need to have a private chat."

  ***

  Dr. Morgan was ushered by guards into the Chancellor's sitting room. When he entered, the Chancellor sat on a fine sofa among holy art as a soft hymn played from a music box.

  The Chancellor smiled, dismissed his men, and beckoned for Dr. Morgan to sit next to him.

  "I apologize for General Workman's behavior," he started. "General Workman comes from good stock. His line have always held the bullhorn and crop. He is a hard man. But he has to be. He signs the death warrant for hundreds a day. And I promise you it weighs on him."

  "I know it must, sir," Dr. Morgan replied. "I am ashamed for my part in that display. I can only blame the inhibitor."

  "Yes, it wasn't there to temper your response. The engineered take the implant to keep them on course. It's meant to always remind you of the lifebrand you serve and help you overcome quandaries that might interfere with your duty. But it isn't intended to take away an opinion. You were engineered, but you are still a man, son. The elite and naturally spawned can't carry the inhibitor, though I wish we could at times. It'd make things easier for us, I assure you. Clear cut. I'd certainly volunteer my wife for one. She is a pretty thing, but when that mouth of hers opens, it's all done in. That's Adam's curse for you."

  The Chancellor filled two glasses of wine from a carafe and handed one off to Dr. Morgan. "How long have you been out of the pod, son?"

  "Six years, sir," Dr. Morgan replied.

  The Chancellor nodded, impressed. "That is a ripe old age for an engineered."

  "Yes, I suppose it is."

  "You are the only to encounter the topsiders so intimately and survive it. I need you to tell me everything that occurred. You might have information that could be very useful."

  "I was with troop 468. There were five of us. We were sweeping the capitol for topsiders. The storms were bad, and we couldn't get readings. Carmichael, a private, triggered a landmine, putting us at four. We decided to find a hole and break out our sleep skins and wait for the grunt bus. What was left of Carmichael gave us the honor of his last supper."

  "All of the flesh serves," the Chancellor said.

  "We had Woodrow, another new private, on watch. He was a good soldier. Ridgway was cracking us around the fire. He was a bit of an oxygen thief, but he always had us laughing. It was me, him, and Lieutenant Timpone. We weren't expecting an ambush while the brown death chugged, but it came anyway."

  Dr. Morgan took a drink, and then got back to it. "They used silencers. Woodrow was the first hit. They stepped over his corpse and took Ridgway and Timpone before I knew what was happening. I was alone. Holding the soup sandwich and waiting for the bullet bearing my initials."

  "To see your brothers taken that way," the Chancellor said, with a sympathetic shudder of his head. "How long were you with your unit?"

  "Thirty days, sir. But that's a lifetime out there. The Red Guard lost some of its best that day."

  "Our loss, but God's gain."

  "Yes sir. They asked who I was, but they knew what the cross on the shoulder meant. They took me to the old library, deep down into its bowels, where they had set a camp. Their leader, Taima, told me to treat his daughter, who had a deadly infection. After I stabilized her, the rest were for killing me. But Taima decided that I would remain their hostage and I would serve their wounded as the need arose."

  "You spoke to Taima?" the Chancellor said, curiously.

  "Yes sir. We spoke at some length. While I treated the child, I noticed a woman praying over her. This struck me as curious, so I asked him if his people had a God."

  "What did he tell you?"

  "He told me his people worship the same God as I. Things grew a bit… heretical after that."

  "Speak candidly. You aren't in any trouble, son."

  Dr. Morgan took a breath for courage. "He said that the 45th has misrepresented our lord. That God doesn't favor one man over another. He said that we are losing the war. That they have infiltrated two of our auxiliary bunkers."

  "Lunacy! All of are fortresses still hold. And hold strongly."

  "I don't doubt you, sir," Dr. Morgan said. "Taima also suggested that many of the records at the great library were destroyed by us, so that the truth of our past would never be shared."

  "Did you believe any of this?" the Chancellor asked.

  "No sir. Not entirely," Dr. Morgan said quickly. "Even without a full charge on my inhibitor, I thought it an attempt to pollute my mind. But one thing did trouble me."

  "What was that?"

  "My lifebrand makes me compliant to what Taima wanted of me. He had no way of knowing that my inhibitor was compromised, and he understood the limits of his own influence over it. So why did he bother to say those things to me? He had nothing to gain. It was a bit like spitting at a brick wall and expecting it to collapse."

  "Why does this trouble you?" the Chancellor said, trying to ascertain the gist.

  Dr. Morgan took another drink and tried to find the best way to serve his meaning. "My faith can never be toppled. But the foundation of it shook for a second. I believed what Taima said, as far as the topsiders praying in the same direction as us. It changed my opinion of them. It made me wonder why we couldn't share our world with them."

  "Don't be fooled by Taima's words," the Chancellor cautione
d. "The Children of Cain are an evil race. The desecrate our holy city. They perform human sacrifices to Pagan Gods. Morgan, they bury their dead."

  "Yes sir. I've seen the graveyards."

  The Chancellor refilled both glasses, downed his, and sighed. "When the 45th realized his mission, the world was a much different place. There was great strife within our nation. Many had grown fat and complacent. There were heretics, outside our borders, who we were foolhardy enough to let in. Violent brutes, who wanted to destroy us to appease their false Gods. But worse than them were those who preached tolerance. You don't tolerate sinners, Dr. Morgan. You stone them. You have to feed God the blood of nonbelievers. It is the highest Christian rule.

  "The 45th and his apostles rose to power because they understood that religions cannot coexist. God has only one tongue, and if you will not hear his words, you are lost. Many protested the appointment of the 45th, sensing a cataclysm to come with his rise. And they were correct. The world was crying out to be cleansed, and the 45th had the courage to set loose the fire. The righteous had to be sorted from God's enemies. Some of the infidels survived, and resisted. So began the most vital war the world has seen. We battled them then. We battle them now. We shall always battle them. When we wipe the Children of Cain away, a new enemy will arise. A new enemy will always rise. The test will never end. Peace has no place here, on this world. The only peace, and it is an everlasting one, is to be found in God's kingdom. Serve our lord, as long as your heart beats with the blood of faith. You can rest when your duty ends and you ascend. That is the reward for all of this horror. And it is the greatest prize."

  "I understand, Chancellor," Dr. Morgan replied.

  "As far as the great library goes, Taima was correct. We did destroy many records. But it was all false history. Any record of the 45th that does not recognize him as a prophet is propaganda and a lie. The truth is with the 45th. His word is absolute for it is God's word," the Chancellor said.

  The Chancellor placed a hand on Dr. Morgan's shoulder. "Do not discuss Taima's deceit with anyone else. To spread false news is a great sin, and it goes against lifebrand and the inhibitor. Do you understand, Dr. Morgan?"

  "Yes sir," Dr. Morgan replied.

  The Chancellor nodded approvingly. "Good. You know, there aren't many engineered who are granted a breeding permit. But I think you should be allowed. You'd have quite the line at your quarters, I imagine."

  Dr. Morgan smiled. The thought of it heated and embarrassed him at the same time. "Thank you, sir."

  "When you have recovered from your surgery to replace the inhibitor, I want you to report for permanent duty to Dr. Rausch," the Chancellor said.

  "Thank you, your grace," Dr. Morgan said.

  ***

  Dr. Morgan left the Chancellor's chambers and stepped into the great expanse of the main terminal. He felt through the wringer. His wings had been clipped. He would die in this mammoth and cold place. A breeding permit was the only consolation in this cage. But any that came from him would be swept into the faith and issued marching boots. It was a sad future.

  He was pleasantly surprised to see Dr. Rausch near the Chancellor's quarters. She was still done up and waiting for him. She approached him slowly, heartbreak in her eyes.

  "I am sorry I pushed for bringing you below. I see now why that wasn't a favor," she said.

  "I'm not mad at you. It came from a kind place. Guess I'll have to accept I've seen the top for the last time. And I get to work with you. That'll be nice."

  Dr. Rausch drew close and whispered, "I have something to show you. A special place that will offer a tiny piece of comfort. It's a secret, though. Can you keep it?"

  "Secrets are sinful," Dr. Morgan said. "But my inhibitor is asleep. That puts me in a bit of a grey area. So why not?"

  She led him to the tram, and they rode it to its last stop. Maintenance. Where the machines and boilers kept things humming. She led him to a deserted, dimly lit corridor.

  "This isn't on the blueprints. It is where I go to think about things."

  She pressed upon a steel tile on the wall. She fiddled with something inside and closed it. "Push here." Dr. Rausch palmed a large portion of the wall.

  Dr. Morgan put his strength against it. A doorway, its miniscule frame invisible to the light of the hallway, opened.

  He drew back and looked at a flight of stairs. Dr. Rausch guided him in, closing the cold door behind them. She hit a light switch on the wall and Dr. Morgan stared upward at concrete steps. They led too high for him to see their destination.

  He followed her up. By the time they reached the top, which came out of nowhere, Dr. Morgan wished he had counted the steps. There must have been hundreds.

  The tiny ledge served as an exit hatch. It's keypad had gone black and the sensors on it had rotted away. Outside the small window, the night wind howled. Moonlight shimmied through the brown death.

  Three hazard suits and masks were on a wall hook next to the door.

  "What is this?" Dr. Morgan asked.

  "A secret escape. Whoever erected it didn't leave any breadcrumbs. My father was the head of maintenance. He found it by accident. He's dead now. So you and I are the only ones who know."

  "I am surprised this hasn't been spotted by scouts and cemented in. It wouldn't be hard to breach."

  "It is set in a mountain recess. It is hard to see from below and harder to reach."

  Dr. Rausch stared at the squall outside. "I doubt I'll be invited to the Chancellor's table again. Apparently, I forgot my place. The hierarchy here doesn't allow for a woman's assertion. Especially a woman of color. You don't see many higher ups in my shade, do you? I wouldn't be surprised if the Chancellor terminates my position and sends me to the kitchen," she confessed.

  "It does seem unfair," Dr. Morgan concurred. Would he have been sympathetic if the complaint had come from any other?

  "At least the topsider women have a closer footing to their men. But that's one of the things Workman rails on them for."

  Dr. Rausch looked to him and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be putting this on you."

  "It's okay," Dr. Morgan assured her. "Burden me, Dr. Rausch. I am your friend."

  "Vivian," she said. "Call me by my first given."

  "Okay, Vivian," Dr. Morgan said. "I haven't one to give you back."

  "We should make one," she said.

  "I'll leave that to you."

  "I'll need some time. A first name should be significant and fitting."

  They stared through the window together in silence.

  "We've fucked things up, Morgan," Vivian said, breaking the quiet. "We've poisoned ourselves into the ground. How will the world ever heal with this never ceasing hostility? It's only a matter of time before one of the sides finds an old bomb that still functions. We've worn out our welcome here."

  Dr. Morgan stared into the treacherous air, and he had to agree with her.

  "I killed someone."

  The confession had snuck out of him. His heart hammered, and he turned to her slowly to wait for her reaction.

  Her eyes moved from the small window to his face. "What happened?"

  "When Winters' men attacked Taima's people, I took a weapon from one of them. He charged me, and I stuck a knife in his heart. That's when I knew the inhibitor wasn't in control," Dr. Morgan said.

  Vivian stared at him thoughtfully. "How did it make you feel?"

  "Elated," Dr. Morgan confessed. "Too many times I've watched the killing like a useless pile of flesh. It felt good to avenge Woodrow, Ridgway, and Timpone. Things were so chaotic, I didn't realize what I had done until it was over. You are the only I have told. What do you think General Workman would have done with that?"

  "Honestly, he'd have given you a medal. To go against lifebrand can get you repurposed, but I think you are in a position to earn an exception."

  "I don't want the Chancellor or the General to know I stepped out of my lifebrand. Consequences or none. It'll give fuel to the Ge
neral's wanting medics to engage the enemy. It'll do more harm than good."

  "You have a point. Let me ask you, what were the topsiders like?"

  "Not much different than us. Much to the Chancellor's chagrin," he said. "Their leader told me that they pray to the same God as us. That the 45th were waging a holy war against them. That they were only trying to survive on lands we cannot occupy."

  "What do you think after spending time with them?"

  "That both sides embrace their own truths. Before I spoke with them, there were no doubts in me. The topsiders were savages who were intent to tear down everything we have and stand for. But now, I think they see us much in the same way. And I can't blame them."

  "Well, we must certainly trust each other," Vivian smiled.

  "It is good to have someone close to confide in."

  "It's late," Vivian said. "We should go. The maintenance crews will be popping in shortly."

  "Can I escort you back to your quarters?"

  "No you may not. But I'll happily see you to yours, Dr. Morgan."

  ***

  Dr. Morgan slept on his small bed after hours of tossing and turning. When he had undressed and climbed under his sheet, he thought slumber would come easily. But it took a bit before his plagued mind caught up with his exhausted body.

  He dreamt of an oasis. He trekked an endless desert before a small paradise appeared through the rolling waves of heat. He hurried through the hot sand, hoping it wasn't a mirage that would pop before he got to it.

  It was solid and had comfort to offer. There were coconut trees and a small clear waterhole. Dr. Morgan undressed and waded into the water. He swam and floated for hours. When he was done, he climbed a tree and picked fruit. Night fell, and he drank coconut milk near a fire.

  Dr. Morgan felt something behind him. He turned. A large black panther appeared between the trees and walked slowly toward him. Dr. Morgan retreated to the pond. He prepared to jump back in and hoped the beast wasn't hungry enough to brave the water.