Fixed

by Beth Goobie

  “So police are pretty certain we’re looking at another attack by the Jinnet?” asked the woman.

  “Most likely,” said the man. “Here are photographs of some of the individuals suspected to be involved. Several of them have recently been spotted in the Marnan area.”

  Photographs of scowling men and blank-eyed women began flashing onto the screen as the male newscaster listed their names and gave several identifying features for each individual. Nellie grinned slightly as she watched the photographs come and go. This always happened. The police were afraid of looking as if they weren’t in control of the situation, so they immediately came up with a list of suspects, and the Jinnet was always the first one named. The Jinnet, Nellie figured, was probably nothing more than a group of Outback farmers who got together to play cards every other weekend. If they existed at all. The police came up with these suspect lists so quickly, it was almost as if they had them prepared in advance ...

  As this last thought hit her, Nellie’s entire body jerked. Ridiculous. How could the police be ready in advance? Detta didn’t notify the local authorities before launching an attack against the Dark. Angrily Nellie smashed at the thought in her head, crushing it to smithereens. Blasphemy, blasphemy. Her thoughts were starting to get out of hand. She was going to have to increase the frequency of her visits to the Mind Cleanser.

  At the front of the room, Col. Jolsen shut off the news broadcast. “Soldiers of light!” he roared.

  Snapping upright, the group roared back, “At attention!”

  “The Goddess is pleased,” the colonel said, smiling broadly at them. “You have carried the message of Her wrath into the midst of evil. And make no mistake — the places you destroyed today were havens of the Dark. Evil can manifest itself in many forms, a child can be its carrier as equally as a grown man. Do not mourn for those who died today. The four places you attacked and destroyed were known to us as meeting places commonly used by the Dark, especially the museum.” Here Col. Jolsen directed an approving glance at Nellie and she was rocked with a wave of exhilaration. “In fact,” he continued somberly, “they were planning to meet at the museum today before heading out to terrorize the community and defile the celebrations planned for the Goddess’s birthday.”

  An angry murmur ran through the cadets, and the colonel nodded gravely. “Yes,” he said. “Many of the people you saw today were in league with the Jinnet — children, women and men. Do not mourn for them. And as for the others who were there merely as sightseers, their deaths were a great honor given to them by the Goddess in service to the stars. The Great Mother will remember their souls.”

  Quickly Col. Jolsen drew a five-pointed star in the air, and the cadets respectfully followed suit. Then a sudden grin took over the colonel’s face and his tone changed to one of excitement. “And you!” he cried, pointing to the group. “Cadets of the Advanced Black Core Program, today you have destroyed many of the infidel and sent the rest to their basements where they cower in hiding. When the final day of judgement comes, you will be rewarded by being reborn into the brightest stars!”

  “The brightest stars!” cried the cadets, raising their right hands.

  “We are riding the light!” called Col. Jolsen.

  “Riding the light!” thundered the cadets.

  “Onto your feet,” ordered the colonel. “It is time for Group Closedown.” On the monitoring screen behind him appeared a wide vista of stars that shone brilliantly for several seconds, then began to retreat into the distance. “Code MK13,” said the colonel, tapping his forehead. “Locate filing cabinet number thirty-three, drawer two, the fourteenth folder.”

  Leaping to their feet, the cadets took up position facing each other in two large circles, one inside the other. As the circles began to move slowly in opposite directions, each cadet touched the forehead of those she passed and whispered, “File it deep, deep deep deep, and now we are free.” Between Lierin and Phillip, Nellie circled with the others, whispering the quiet phrase. Each time she touched a forehead, she felt something slip away from her, weightless and invisible. Like something dying, she thought unexpectedly and then the thought vanished, leaving her with the eerie whispering and circling. By the time the two circles had completed an entire rotation, the excitement buzzing the room had dissolved and the cadets were standing quietly, their faces calm. Turning with the others, Nellie faced the front of the room and saw Col. Jolsen, his face also quiet and relaxed. Behind him the wall screen was blank.

  “At ease,” said Col. Jolsen. “Your minds have been emptied, and you are now prepared for an evening of fun and relaxation. This afternoon is gone as if blown away in the wind. Blown away in the wind,” he repeated soothingly. “You will think no more of it. This has been commanded by the Goddess.”

  Commanded by the Goddess, thought Nellie. Blown away in the wind. Taking a deep breath, she looked about herself. She was standing in a large circle between Lierin and Phillip in the Common Room, and from the look of things, they’d just finished a lecture by Col. Jolsen. What time was it? She glanced at her watch. A half hour past suppertime, no wonder she was so hungry! It must have been an important lecture to have gone overtime like this. A frown creased her forehead as she tried to remember the contents of the lecture and drew a blank. Oh well, she’d probably been told to file it — some kind of top secret stuff that needed an access code for conscious recall. It was an excellent system that really simplified things for a cadet. This way she accessed necessary information only in appropriate situations when given the required code, and didn’t have top secret information floating around the front of her mind which could be mistakenly blurted out to strangers. Cadets didn’t always show the best judgement.

  At the front of the room, Col. Jolsen raised a hand and silence fell across the group. “After dinner,” he said, “wait an hour or so, then visit a Mind Cleanser before lights out.” His face split into a quick grin. “I hope you’re hungry. Rumor has it the cooks have prepared dengleberry pie for dessert. You’re dismissed.”

  With a roar, the cadets broke ranks and headed for the exit. Squeezing through the doorway, Nellie launched herself at Phillip and tackled him from behind. “Last one to the cafeteria is first course for the Goddess’s bloodsucking hounds!” she hollered and took off down the hall, a stampede of cadets behind her.

  FOCUSED ON her deep breathing exercises, Nellie stood quietly as Lt. Neem taped the last of several electrodes to the back of her left leg. Surrounded by life-sized mannequins and training equipment, they were in the gym, a vast drafty room that gleamed off-white in every direction and echoed with the grunts and thuds of a class practicing gymnastics at the far end. Nellie had spent fifteen minutes warming up with them, then trotted toward the lieutenant in response to his summoning whistle. Now she leaned her weight onto her right leg and tried not to tense the left as the lieutenant buckled it into a padded harness that belted at her waist.

  “Check,” said the lieutenant, pressing a handheld device, and a burst of electric shock ran from the electrodes into the back of Nellie’s leg. “Gotcha?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Got me.” Nellie flexed her leg against the harness, which was connected by several jointed metal rods to a rectangular five-foot-high machine beside her. As the lieutenant took his place behind the machine’s control panel, she listened to the low hum the device emitted — calm, even, almost like someone singing under her breath. However, once Lt. Neem flicked the switch that hum would change to a series of loud revs that had been timed to synchronize with the jolts of shock the electrodes would send into her leg. Nellie loved the gut groan of those revs. Combined with electric shock, the sound roared through her with such power that she could lose herself in it, forgetting the pain of the shock and the harness strapping her in.

  “Your Seeing Eyes,” said Lt. Neem, handing her a pair of virtual-reality glasses. Sliding them on, Nellie adjusted the strap until it fit snugly around the back of her head. Then she inserted two tiny speaker
s dangling from the earpieces into her ears. With the exception of the head strap and the speakers, the virtual-reality glasses resembled a pair of sunglasses, and recreational versions were commonly worn by children at play in Marnan’s back alleys and parks.

  “Seeing Eyes open,” said the lieutenant, and the lenses filled with images of outer space. Transparent stars, planets and spaceships now dominated Nellie’s vision. Through them she continued to see her surroundings, but the gym had taken on an unreal quality, as if it was the illusion and she was actually hovering somewhere in outer space. Through the speaker in her left ear, she heard a slow steady beeping.

  “Face the target.” Lt. Neem’s voice was now coming through the speaker in her right ear. Nellie turned to face the row of mannequins, moving in sync with the beeping in her left ear. “Third doll down,” said Lt. Neem. “We’re working on the chin kick first.”

  The mannequins had been positioned in a variety of poses, the third in a semi-crouch, its hands raised. “Sight on the chin,” said Lt. Neem, and an illuminated bull’s-eye appeared in the left lens of the virtual-reality glasses, fixed on the mannequin’s chin. “Begin,” said Lt. Neem. Beside Nellie, the machine let out a loud revving sound and a small burst of shock ran up the back of her leg. At the same time the metal rods connected to the harness lifted upward, bringing her foot in a slow even arc toward the mannequin’s face. Her heel connected with the chin, the mannequin rocked backward and the machine lowered the rods, returning her foot to the floor.

  “Again,” said Lt. Neem. This time the burst of shock was stronger and the harness carried Nellie’s foot more quickly toward the mannequin’s face. Simultaneously, the bull’s-eye shone more brightly in her left eye and the beeping grew louder in her ear. As her foot settled back onto the floor, Nellie grinned. When she really got going, these workouts gave her such a rush she flew higher than the stars in her virtual-reality glasses.

  “Again,” said Lt. Neem, and another, stronger burst of shock ran up the back of Nellie’s leg. Her foot was lifted more quickly from the floor, the beeping grew louder in her ear, her heel connected with a solid whack, and the mannequin rocked back onto its heels. “Ride the light,” said the voice in her ear and Nellie knew the kick rate had been established — the computer had assessed her heart rate and brainwave pattern and settled on the appropriate tempo.

  Again and again a burst of shock ran up her leg and her foot was yanked from the floor. Stars shot through her peripheral vision, she felt as if she was traveling at the speed of light as her foot smashed the mannequin’s face. Boom! She was really starting to feel it now — the white-hot burst of shock combined with the revving power of the kick, all of it tied to the high-pitched beeping in her left ear. Riding the light. Another wave of shock pierced her calf and her foot was carried upward, but now her leg was starting to feel less like flesh and bone and more like spasms of light rising through her body. Riding the light, riding the light. Back snapped the mannequin’s head, down went Nellie’s foot and for a second the beeping in her ear shut off. Then everything started again, but this time Lt. Neem’s voice merged with the entire process, coming through the speaker in her right ear.

  “Code 999: you hate,” it said, calm and neutral, as Nellie’s foot rose from the floor and smashed into the mannequin’s chin. “That’s right,” the voice continued as her foot was lowered. “You hate. It is good to hate. Hate makes you a functional cadet. A functional cadet hates anything that threatens the Empire. The Goddess commands you to hate Her enemies. If you love the Goddess, you hate Her enemies. Love is hate and hate is love. There is no difference,” said the voice placidly. “You are a hate machine, a love machine of metal and shock. Love the Goddess, hate Her enemies. Code 999: love, hate, love, hate.” Waves of shock tore through Nellie’s leg and her foot flew repeatedly upward, smashing the mannequin’s chin in starbursts of heat and light. “Hate is your greatest weapon,” the voice approved coolly. “It is your soul. You think, breathe, you are hate.”

  Another searing jolt of shock tore through Nellie’s leg and she gritted her teeth, remembering the lessons she’d learned in previous workouts: A functional cadet likes pain. She suffers with joy. Pain is joy, pain is light held inside the body. Pain is like a star. Grunting quietly, Nellie tried to imagine the pain in her leg as stars glowing in her muscles. Sometimes the agony grew so fierce, she could actually see the vibrations as flames roaring through her skin. “You hate,” said the voice in her ear, and her foot flew upward, punching the mannequin’s impervious face. “You hate,” said the voice, and a groan slipped from her lips as yet another jolt of shock ripped through her leg. “You hate,” said the voice, and Nellie screamed, stars ricocheting past her eyes as her foot rose and smashed the mannequin so hard, it broke free of its stand and went spinning across the floor.

  Immediately the virtual-reality glasses shut off. Stars stopped shooting past her eyes and the high-pitched beeping was silenced. By the time her foot was lowered to the floor, Lt. Neem was at her side, unstrapping the harness. “Walk,” he said, his voice still coming through the speaker in her right ear. “Walk it off, ride the light back to ground level.”

  Shakily Nellie began to walk around the mannequins, her left leg throbbing and wobbly. As she did, the virtual-reality glasses came back on, but faintly, the stars and planets fading and lifting upward, as if retreating into the distance. Still her breathing was a savage gulping force, squeezing her lungs. She paused, leaning against a wall, and watched the last of the stars fade from the lenses before her eyes.

  “Pushed it a little too far that time,” Lt. Neem called cheerfully, his voice now free of the speaker and back in his body. “We’ll have to adjust the pace — can’t have you tearing the dolls limb from limb.”

  Nellie grinned uncertainly and began to shake the throb out of her left leg. She didn’t usually erupt like that. Lt. Neem must have pitched the beeping too high or used too much shock. He was probably putting her through some kind of upgrading, maybe even toughening her for a special assignment. Either that or she was an absolute loser weakling. Fucking wimp, Nellie berated herself silently. You’re a suck, Kinnan, a suck. She took a long slow breath. It was always difficult when the voltage was increased. Until she adjusted, it was more like fighting the light than riding it.

  “Over here,” called Lt. Neem. “We’ll work your right arm for a while.”

  Giving her leg a last shake, Nellie headed toward the lieutenant. Things felt okay again, the burn in her calf muscle substantially decreased, and anyway, she would be working her right arm now. Arms were easier than legs — they moved quicker and took less effort. Less shock. Lt. Neem knew her limits, when to push and when to lay off. Coming up beside him, Nellie gave him a grin, surer now the pain had subsided.

  “Okay?” asked Lt. Neem, smiling back.

  “Okay,” said Nellie, and held out her right arm for the electrodes.

  “NOW, NELLIE,” said Westcott, his voice coming through the speaker in her right ear. “I want you to take all the thoughts and problems you brought with you from Advanced and put them into the sailboat and send it over the horizon.”

  “Okay,” said Nellie dreamily, pressing her finger against the loose screw in the Relaxer’s arm. Heaving a final rock at the brightly painted sailboat in her mind, she watched it keel onto its side. She was still trying to figure out how to handle this session. When she’d walked through the door, a filing cabinet had suddenly opened in her head and a memory of the previous session had popped out — Westcott’s gasp as she’d remembered the shorn-headed girl from her dreams. Funny how she’d forgotten about that until now. Why would she have filed it?

  Anyway, she hadn’t made up her mind whether Westcott could read her thoughts with the Relaxer helmet or not, but if he could, it would be best to continue her usual mental routine so he wouldn’t get suspicious.

  “Is the sailboat gone?” purred the amiable voice in her ear.

  “Gone,” Nellie affirmed sweetly. �
�Gone, gone, gone.”

  Westcott heaved a barely audible sigh. “I want you to relax, Nellie. Just let yourself slide deep underwater where you will float like a fish, quiet and dreamy. Remember you can breathe underwater, so you’re completely safe. Are you floating?”

  “Yes,” said Nellie, imagining herself as a silver-nosed shark, a breed so vicious it was known to have sunk its teeth into small boats. “Floating like a fish.”

  “Good,” said Westcott. “Wonderful. Splendid. Marvelous. Now let me ask you some silly questions just to keep my paycheck coming in. What’s the color of your bedspread?”

  “Blue,” murmured Nellie. She loved this kind of question. She really knew how to drive Westcott crazy with it. “It’s a middle-of-the-afternoon, three o’clock sky blue with yellow and purple wickawoo birds all over it. Well, maybe not exactly yellow. More like gold with a few bits of orange, and—”

  “Hmm,” said Westcott, cutting her off. “And your roommate’s bedspread?”

  “Vomit green,” said Nellie as dreamily as she could manage. “With bits of puke orange and lots of other gag colors.”

  “Ah ha,” commented the psychiatrist knowingly. “And what about the barrier curtain of the Mind Cleanser in your dorm?”

  “Burgundy,” said Nellie.

  “Just burgundy?” asked the psychiatrist after a pause.

  “Burgundy, all-the-time-burgundy,” said Nellie. “Burgundy when you go in and burgundy when you come out, and burgundy even when you just think about it sitting there in the dark, the color of dead blood waiting to get you.”

  “Mm-hmm,” said the psychiatrist, interest edging his voice. “Tell me, Nellie, what did you have for breakfast?”

  “Think Quick cereal,” said Nellie, keeping her voice neutral as she tried frantically to remember what she’d just said about the Mind Cleanser’s barrier curtain. Sometimes she lost track of Westcott’s game and really started to float, and then such weird things came out of her mouth. The Mind Cleanser’s curtain the color of dead blood? Focus, she scolded silently, pressing the tip of her finger hard against the loose screw.