by K. M. Malloy
Major Jenkins raised one hand and used the other to cover his mouth to hide the stench of liquer. “Why do we have to terminate the Wild Card? She’s not a violent person, sorry, unit, and she’s got the problem solving skills needed to acquire the medical practice once we put the medical unit down. Why not try NVN stage three on her as well? Wouldn’t her intelligence and tenacious nature be the perfect conditions for the stage three experiment?”
“Good question,” Manning nodded. “The Blue Lion Group feels the Wild Card is too far advanced for the stage three experiment as we’ve had little success with memory suppression and implementation in older individuals. And it’s cheaper to buy half a dozen orphans for experimental purposes rather than go through the trouble of memory sweeps with old versions. Besides, we have some kinks we need to work out before introducing more than one chip free unit into the population. Let’s not forget the history book fuck up.”
Several laughs erupted from the audience in remembrance of the incident. Major Jenkins turned to scowl at those partaking in the laughter. “You think that’s funny?”
“Well,” said Lieutenant Daily, “it kind of was. I mean, we’re teaching them us black folk are extinct and we put a damn photograph of a brother in their books.”
Manning held up his hand to silence Jenkins. “All of you had better wipe those shit eating grins off your faces. Mistakes like that could blow this whole operation.”
“Sir?” Sergeant Rogers asked, looking to Manning. “When are we going to begin implementing other ethnicities into the project? Considering the girl’s nonviolent nature, shouldn’t we at least begin implementing the Asian population?”
“Yeah,” Rodriguez agreed. “If we’re supposed to be rolling this out on a national scale by 2035 then shouldn’t we start mixing ethnicities into the population rather than having all units be Caucasian?”
“Yes, we will be introducing multiple ethnicities based on our efforts in other testing facilities,” Manning said. “When the Johnson Project first began, we found that the crude technology of the late sixties worked best on the Caucasian volunteers. However, we have been testing other ethnicities as well, and have been successful at integrating the chip to all races except African Americans. As the naturally most aggressive race, African Americans have shown no response to the chip. We are testing it on the black inmate population at the Winslow prison, but have had little success. Stage three of the Nature Versus Nurture Project will begin when the virus is resolved. We’ll be introducing Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Hispanics into the general population. If successful, we’ll move to stage four of interracial offspring, and finally rollout to the general population.”
“Back to the mission tomorrow,” Jackson said. “Who will be on the Wild Card extermination team?”
“Just Jenkins,” Manning said.
“Sir,” Jenkins said, “can I request to add two comrades to my mission?”
“Why?” Manning said, stepping closer to Jenkins. “Are you unable to complete this mission?”
Jenkins hesitated, and leaned back in his chair. “No, sir.”
“Are you sure,” Manning pressed. “Because I would really hate to learn that the man who was once my top assassin has grown soft over a fifteen year old girl who is nothing more than a research specimen.”
“No, sir. I can do it.”
“Good. We’re done here then. Everyone go get some rest. We’ll give you team assignments on the way to the site. Until then the normal cleanup crew will still be in operation to assist in termination. Dismissed,” Manning said, and saluted his troops.
Jackson sat silent among the grumbling marines. Soon the sound of their boots and the swishing of their camouflage pants could no longer be heard. Jackson kneeled down onto the floor and clasped his hands together. “Please,” he whispered, “please, help me.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Thursday May 6, 2010
2:16 a.m.
Population: 198
The night wasn’t quiet anymore. In the last three weeks the sounds of nature had been drown out by the agony of men. Screams of anger, wails of tearful sorrow, and the laughter of madness scraped away at her soul as she lay in bed, thinking of her upcoming encounter with Gary and what she was going to do.
A piercing screech made her jump. Her heart pounded as she held her breath and waited to see if it sounded again. Several moments went by in silence. Aire exhaled and rubbed her eyes, glancing at the clock on her night stand. It was go time.
Her shoes laced and jacket in tow, Aire adjusted the pillows under her blanket one more time. With just a few smacks she was able to arrange the set up to look just like a girl sleeping under the covers. She pulled her hair into a pony tail, opened the window, and slipped down the tree to roam the night.
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
2:16 a.m.
Population: 198
The cool night air made him shiver, and his knees were stiff from crouching in the tree for so long. Once or twice he jerked himself upright in a panic, fearful that he’d dozed off and missed her. He peeked his head out from behind the lush limb to see her still laying awake staring out the window from under a sea of blanket.
Troy settled back into the Mackenzie’s tree across the street from Aire’s house, and tried to rub the soreness from his knees. The waiting was starting to get to him now. He wanted to confront them now, wanted to show them exactly what he thought of their gallivanting. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he caught them, but whatever it was, he knew it was going to feel good.
Stirring in the branches of a nearby tree captured his attention. He peeked out to see Aire hanging from a gnarled branch of the oak outside her window for a few moments before dropping to the ground. She froze in the crouched position like a panicked mouse on the lookout before standing up. Feeling at ease, she put her hands in her jacket pockets before walking down the street towards the woods.
Troy waited until she was at the end of the block before climbing out of the Mackenzie’s tree. He threw on his black hood, zipped his jacket, and blended into the shadows as he followed Aire into the night.
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
2:33 a.m.
Population: 198
She didn’t have a set pattern in this night’s voyage. Her feet seemed to carry her anywhere they wanted to go; down the dirt road of Row’s Way to the paved street of Commerce, and finally across Bourbon. Usually she stared at the ground as she walked, her mind elsewhere, but tonight she took in her surroundings in full attention.
It was the first time she’d been bold enough to travel into the heart of town, but in light of the insanity going on around her, sneaking out would be of little concern to whoever caught her. Her fear of going out after curfew was banished, the chaos of the last month making her callous to the silly rules of the past.
The silly past. The silly past when children behaved, when parents invited each other over for barbeques and everyone smiled. They had been silly, the rules of the past; no walking on the City Hall lawn unless there was a holiday celebration, no running or riding bikes around the elderly, no yelling indoors. It had been peaceful though. It had been safe. If they’d been truly happy though, she didn’t know. For a brief time she had been truly happy even though she felt different from the smiling faces around her. Sneaking out with Troy, feeling his naked skin against hers, connecting with him in a way she’d never known before, that’s when she’d felt true happiness, like she really had been alive. But even that had faded into darkness.
Aire stopped in front of Maggie’s, staring at the high tables and vine covered railing. She’d had so many fun times here throughout her life. There were moments of anger and frustration, but mostly there were moments of joy. The tables once teeming with the carefree people of John’s Town now only catered to her and Troy most of the time. Those times weren’t so much fun anymore. Troy was usually irritable, a scowl on his face as he interrogated her abo
ut her day. His aggression was different than the hostility of the others. It was more intense, more intelligent, and it frightened her.
She let out a sigh as she tilted her head back and leaned against the rail. She stared at the stars, her head spinning. What was happening, and why? Was life better before when the town had been devoid of emotion? She didn’t know.
Aire dropped her head down so her chin was level with the ground. She frowned and peered closer at the patio. That was the first time she’d ever noticed it.
The vines of the railing of Maggie’s came from two potted plants that hung on either side of the patio. The pots were black with comical red polka dots. In the darkness she saw that one of the dots was glowing.
She leaned gingerly over the railing, concentrating on the glowing dot. Her fingers brushed over the light, then around the rest of the pot. Frowning, she felt a square indent within the clay material that harbored the strange light. The square was smooth and warm whereas the rest of the pot was cool, rough clay. She reached out her other hand to pry at the square. Her fingertips turned white with effort, but still it would not budge.
The glowing light bothered her. Why would a strange light be coming from a flower pot?
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
2:16 a.m.
Central Control, Security Wing
The control room was empty save for Jackson slouched low in front of a monitor in the front row. He sat still and silent, his eyes bloodshot and baggy as he watched the Wild Card. The Johnson Project had been a glorious idea, a social experiment designed to keep the peace in the world. He’d signed up for it after he’d lost Pamela to those godless bastards in the grocery store parking lot. Oh God what they’d done to her! His mind had broken for a time. Sandra was still in diapers then. He’d shipped her off to his mother while he dealt with his grief. His dream had been to rid the world of the evil that had taken his wife away from him and their daughter. But it was over now.
He had failed her. He had failed them all. He had no answer, no magic cure for the virus. He couldn’t save them, but he could save her. What did it matter that his life would be over if he did? Pam and Sandra were gone. What was there to live for?
He saw her bolt up in her bed in one of the tiny monitors. The audio of the surveillance system was turned off, but he could imagine the noise she’d heard in the night. Cleanup crew was still on duty to cut down the worst of the infected units. From camera three he saw the team of three flag down a screeching woman with curlers in her hair. Jackson shook his head. So many dead because of him.
A movement from her room snapped his eyes back to camera forty-seven. He leaned in closer, his jaw dropping as he watched her open her window and climb down the tree.
“Figures.” He shook his head. Failure 697, he thought to himself as she broke yet another rule. Yes, Wild Card had certainly been a failure to the project when it came to rules, but to him she’d been a great success. She reminded him so much of Sandra with her gentle nature and her tendency to break “silly rules,” as Sandra had called them.
So much like Sandra.
Jackson wiped a tear from behind his glasses. He turned his attention to the giant wall of mini screens that monitored every inch of John’s town. His pride surged as he watched her walk boldly down the street into town, daring someone to catch her. It broke his heart to see her so melancholy as she leaned over the railing and stared at the terrace of Maggie’s. He could almost hear her thoughts, could see her memories of long ago happiness spent laughing in the place at which she now wept.
It was too much for him. Too many memories of her and Sandra and Pam came flooding back to him. Jackson choked back his own sobs and stood up to leave when he saw her look directly at him from the monitor. He froze in his chair, unable to move under the intense gaze of her eyes. He watched intently as she raised her tiny fingers towards him, then back away and stare. His heart skipped a beat and he almost laughed when he saw her come forward again, saw the miniature world in the screen see saw across John’s Town and snap into a fuzzy grey snow.
His pride swelled even more for the girl. She’d been raised in a world with limited technology, no phone of any kind, no movies, no TV, no radio, no computer, no internet. Yet even in her world of mail order catalogues and paperback books she was still clever enough to know that the tiny light staring back at her was not to be trusted.
Sector two, camera thirty three was out for the night. He continued to watch her as she roamed further into the darkness. From her direction it looked like she was heading towards the woods. Past the lake there were no cameras for nearly three miles. There was no need for them. No one was allowed to leave John’s Town. They’d been conditioned from day one that there was no need to leave, that they had everything they could ever want in their little town, and that the world outside was a dark and terrible place of pain and sadness.
Contentment, however, was not the only reason no one ever left. Technology controlled them, imprisoned them to stay. The chip implanted in the base of their skulls had made sure of that. The lights of the billboards surrounding the city pulsated a high frequency transmission that activated the chip to inhibit the secretion and absorption of serotonin and dopamine, the feel good neurotransmitters, into a depression so great the wayward traveler had no motivation to move on. Should a determined one get past the first round, a second set was set up that acted on a more intense level than the first. Cameras appeared again at the third set. These billboards caused an astronomical spike in the production of norepinepherine that would put the body in a state of hyperactivity and could lead to heart attack or seizure. If someone made it that far, the security team would be alerted of a malfunctioning chip, and the roamer would be tranquilized and taken back into the population.
She would never have to worry about the debilitating effects of the boards though. She was the first of her kind, lonely in her existence of being the only unaltered mind in the population. He watched her shamble down the streets, deep in thoughts that were uncontaminated by the chip. She went further towards the outskirts of the city, her face long as she passed camera thirty-five hidden in a brick of the bookstore.
Camera thirty-five.
Jackson frowned and leaned in closer to the screen. He could have sworn she had only passed camera seventeen. There was no way she could have gone half a mile in less than a minute. He stared into the sector two quadrant, letting his eyes go blank, not focusing on anything.
Cameras thirty-six and eighteen flashed at the same time.
He circled the figure in camera eighteen with his mouse on the smaller screen in front of him and clicked the keyboard to get a freeze frame on the face. Two figures were roaming the streets at night. Very peculiar.
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
2:41 a.m.
Population: 197
She stopped at the park and sat upon the basketball bleachers, the place where Gary had first gone mad. The concrete courts seemed a smoky haze under the dim light of the waning crescent moon. She craned her neck to see the stars surrounding the disappearing moon; Ursa Minor, canis major, Draco, all sparkled in brilliance from above. Orion stood proudly to the southeast, his bow aimed and ready for any who dared to challenge him. She smiled a little at the sight of him, always there, always watching.
Aire’s smile faded.
Orion’s belt was broken. The gaping hole of blackness peered back at her from where the center star of his belt had been.
“How could you burn out in one night?” For a moment she stared, knowing she was looking at the impossible. Even her steady Orion was fading away from her, the one constant that would never vanish had been taken away in the darkness. The tears poured from her eyes and before she knew what was happening her body shook with great racking sobs. She buried her face into her knees.
***
Thursday May 6, 2010
2:45 a.m.
Central Control, Security Wing
The co
mputers were running slow. Jackson tapped the eraser of his pencil against his desk as he waited for the surveillance system to come up on one screen and the ID match on the other.
“Come on, damn it,” he whispered, his leg bouncing furiously up and down under the table.
A few seconds later the ID match was up and running. It would take at least five minutes to get the surveillance system fully online.
Jackson typed into the ID system, pulling the snap shot he’d sent himself from the control room of the figure he saw in camera eighteen. Lightening fast fingers moved along the keyboard, pumping in commands for digital face search since the picture was too dark for him to make out. An array of colors lit up his dark face as the computer matched up all members of the population within 20 seconds. It froze. Only one match appeared on the screen.
