Amir began to shake. His muscles bulged. The robots restrained him again.
“Believe me,” Elizabeth continued, “I intend to make sure the world knows what kind of egomaniacal asshole you truly are. See if you like how much I gossip now, you jerk.”
Faust delighted in her loss of temper and watched her jaw clench in frustration.
Elizabeth finally got control of her anger. “Gah! I knew this project with you was a mistake, but Claire insisted. Keeping this experiment secret is proving to be another mistake. We should have broadcast this from the start. You may have accomplished something incredible, but nothing gives you the right to downplay our discoveries. You know full well they were equally challenging.” She jabbed a finger toward him. “Oh, and in case you’ve somehow forgotten in that smug head of yours, you still need us to perfect the research. There’s a long way to go. Since your egomaniacal and infantile delusions appear to have led you to believe the information can be hidden, I’ll get the Sector Tech involved. Try maneuvering around him, you egomaniacal ass. He’ll grind you into powder the second he deems you a threat.”
Amir shuddered and shook his head. Elizabeth backed up in alarm. Her look became one of concern. “Look, something is really wrong with him. We need to sedate him or at least get him strapped back on the table.”
Amir thrashed against the robots. He lifted his head and his eyes appeared devoid of thought. An animalistic growl escaped from his throat. The doctors stepped back en masse.
Faust snarled. “Oh? You intend to tattle on me, do you? You think I haven’t prepared to deal with you appropriately?” He laughed. “And yes, I quite agree, something is wrong with him. Why, he seems to be in a murderous rage!” He laughed again. He waved his hand in a quick motion to the robots. In response to his signal, the robots let Amir go. For a moment the muscled giant just shook. Then, with a rumbling shout, he leapt at the stunned doctors.
For a fraction of a second, they froze, then they all reacted by turning to run for the exit. Amir quickly broke Reprate’s neck and flew at Elizabeth. In seconds, he smashed her head onto the floor, killing her. He roared with rage and tore the metal top off one of the lab equipment tables, overturning the attached devices.
Claire screamed and tried to open the door. Faust had planned for this and had encoded the door to remain locked unless he opened it himself. With the door locked and no escape from her assailant, she whirled desperately to the robots. “Protect me! What are you doing, Carlisle? My god! Robots! I command you to protect me!” Claire raised her arms in a futile effort to protect herself and released a terrified scream as Amir began to beat her with the metal table top, smashing her arms and head violently. The robots never moved. She, like the others, died in moments.
Amir whirled to attack Faust. Before Amir had moved more than a step, two of the robots had both of his arms and tried to wrestle him back to the table. He threw his head back and yelled in rage, dropping the table and dragging both robots with him toward Faust for a moment. Amir’s strength had grown to stunning proportions, and Faust took several steps back. The third robot moved to engage Amir, but Faust motioned for the robot to remain at the medical station.
“That’s . . . impressive. My, my, you do have a temper, though, and it looks like I don’t have a lot of time to deal with you. I hadn’t anticipated quite this much raw power.”
Amir gave another unintelligible shout, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Faust. He continuing to fight against his captors, who were barely managing to hold him. His strength continued to grow.
Faust had little concern about the danger Amir presented, now that his plans were finally coming to fruition. “All three in less than a minute. Just amazing. I’ll note your rapid strength changes in my research.” He looked at Claire’s corpse. “It had to be done.” He breathed deeply. “It had to.” He thought, I need to calm down. Remember—this would have ruined me. Exposure would have ruined the research. We are so close. I am so close! If only I could have trusted you. “It had to be done,” he repeated.
He took several more calming breaths, then moved into action. Okay. The story. Just remember to follow the plan. Let’s see. He touched his face in agitation. “It’s a shame the robots weren’t fast enough to stop Amir. Three doctors experimenting on a patient in secret. Shocking, really.”
Dry-washing his hands, he continued to talk to himself as he read data from the computer. “This entire secret operation is something I’ve condemned from the beginning. What were they thinking? They should never have been experimenting with powerful mind-altering drugs and illegal genetic research. I refused to take part and look what’s happened.”
Amir clearly didn’t understand him or care. Faust thought Amir had probably lost language skills, considering his degradation. He continued to fight to free himself.
“Now then, we still have a problem. You are a disaster. I believe it is time for your malfunction, Mr. Amir.”
He turned to the nanotechnology transmitter. “This is Director Carlisle Faust.”
“Voice recognition verified. Welcome, Dr. Faust,” said a pleasant woman’s voice.
“Stand by to transmit instruction set.”
“Standing by, doctor.”
“Record subject. Previously defined as Hans Amir.”
“Subject recorded. Record updated. Standing by.”
“Initiate partial decay training simulation. Subject: Corpse of Hans Amir.”
“Warning. Unable to comply. Safety protocols detect subject is not deceased. Logging violation with Central.” Then, after a brief pause, “Unable to log violation. External communication state offline. Logging violation to local memory.”
“Override. Subject to be recorded as deceased.”
“Independent verification required. Querying Central Operations.” Another pause. “Unable to process query. Independent verification not possible. External communication state offline. Manual verification required.”
Dr. Faust swore. Of course the systems were offline, or he’d have a drove of officers in here. Faust gritted his teeth, momentarily stuck. He couldn’t have the robots kill the man, or the physical struggle would be obvious. Then, too, he wasn’t sure Amir wouldn’t simply heal from a broken neck and spine. He had become just shy of invulnerable and grew stronger by the minute.
His mind raced. “Independent verification standby.”
“Standing by.”
He gave quick instructions and the third robot moved and drug Reprate’s small corpse to the monitor, pressing his thumb on the transmitter. Blood smeared the print identification and had to be wiped off. A second thumbprint attempt succeeded.
“Verification complete. Thank you, Doctor Earl Reprate. Manual override engaged.”
“Record subject as deceased.”
“Recorded. Subject is now logged as deceased. Warning. Subject transmits biological activity.”
“Acknowledged. Override warning. Override safety. Initiate partial decay training simulation.”
“Overrides acknowledged. Logging to local memory. Initiating decay simulation instructions to subject’s nanotechnology units.”
A moment later, Amir’s shouts turned to screams, then the screams became those of mewling terror. His struggling grew weak and he began to seize violently, then he stopped and fell forward onto both knees, barely moving. His powerful voice became a whimper. He clawed at his skin.
After a moment, his skin abscessed, his eyes boiled, and he slumped over, dead. Within minutes, his tissue showed signs he’d been dead for several days. This would further confuse the timeline of death and the investigation. The absence of rancidness, due to bacterial breakdown of tissue, could pose an issue if investigated, but Faust had prepared to offer an extensive explanation based on the medical tampering with the man’s genetics and some made-up comments about how the bacteria could not consume the modified tissues with nannies protecting the host. His assertions would be factually inaccurate, but they would suffice unless someone pushed
hard for more answers.
“Destroy the recorder. Make sure it is impossible to read but take care to leave the rest of the machine intact,” he said to the robots. In response to his commands, they quickly dismantled the local recording cube from the transmitter and smashed it with enough force to completely pulverize the recording cube. At his direction, the robots replaced the unit with another, which stopped the repeated error messages. Faust verified the fabricated data of the new recorder, which painted a different picture of the experiments.
The new information, which contained a month’s worth of data he’d meticulously created, indicated this experiment had been conducted solely by the three dead physicians. They’d accepted a government contract, and Faust used this to tie them to the research.
According to the falsified records, they’d met in secret many times and the experiments to create a biologically and technologically superior soldier had been unsuccessful. They’d only succeeded in creating a violent and uncontrolled monster . . . not far from the truth. The records further implicated them in the disappearance of several other volunteers.
This data would also show that their disregard for safety and proper science had resulted in Amir killing them all. His enhancements had been recorded as having malfunctioned. This aggression toward the physicians, it would bear to reason, had triggered a pre-programmed suicide sequence after he’d murdered the physicians. The programming hadn’t been fast enough to stop him—a mistake which had cost them their lives.
Reviewing all of this, Faust nodded to himself, satisfied. He motioned for the attending robots to clean themselves. From inside a compartment on one of the robots, he removed a pair of shoes and changed them, nestling his old shoes inside them. He could not be found to have ever entered or left the room. An analysis of shoe patterns might lead to him being questioned. Knowing he’d most likely step in blood, he’d planned ahead, providing himself with a second, clean pair of shoes. Faust almost laughed at the idiocy of tracking blood out of the room when everyone was supposedly dead. Unfortunately, both pairs had been decidedly uncomfortable as they were a size too small, but he’d had to wear them to carefully match the prints of Doctor Reprate. During any investigation his shoeprints in the room would appear as if they belonged to the other doctor. Reprate would have entered and left the room many times over the course of the experiments, but Faust needed to ensure nobody suspected he’d done the same.
For this same reason, Faust had worn a second skin, typically used for burn victims but with the purpose of avoiding shedding DNA evidence. He’d also worn a wig designed to look like his own hair and tried to keep himself as covered as possible, a peculiarity that his colleagues would have chalked up to the other oddities of his personality. Faust had acclimated those around him to oddities in his personality over of the past couple of years, allowing these strange affectations to go mostly unnoticed by his peers.
Yet another of their mistakes.
Faust beckoned for the robots to follow him out of the room. Moving quickly, he descended to the lowest level of the facility, where the recycling and reclaiming systems were housed.
Avoiding people proved easy, as this part of the facility had been kept mostly secret. He pulled out a hidden bundle from under the machinery and set it aside. He removed all his clothing and his shoes, throwing them into the reclaiming furnace to destroy DNA evidence that might have contaminated them. Next, he wiggled out of the second skin and pulled off his wig.
After he’d put on his replacement clothing, careful to throw the plastic wrapper in with the rest, he motioned for the robots to enter the chamber. They had to be destroyed, along with everything he’d worn. Analysis of their systems would have shown tampering and drawn questions down on him. The robots, which had been stripped of their safety protocols, would be melted down and added to the other scrap metals and materials which were routinely recycled.
Satisfied, he started the mechanical reclaiming process, which would incinerate anything incriminating.
With meticulous care, he’d previously modified the security system to remove the lock on the lab, as well as any evidence that he’d moved through secure doors in other parts of the facility. He then modified his schedule to show he’d been at a social event all evening, thereby giving him an ironclad alibi if questions arose. Nobody would distinctly remember his arrival, but the doctored security system would be evidence enough. Faust took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and headed to the party.
Two
“WE’VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING, JASON.”
At the sound of Monica’s commanding voice, Jason glanced up from his chair. A lock of raven-black hair hid one of her crystal blue eyes but didn’t hide the intensity of her gaze.
He regarded her carefully. He looked down at the printout she waved in her hand. “Do something?”
She slammed the paper down on the desk, slapping her hand on top of it for emphasis. Jason moved his chair from behind his screens to get a better look.
His calm voice seemed to inflame Monica’s temper. He repressed a smile, resisting an impulse to goad her into the amusing display of an adult tantrum. His mischievous side had to be ignored sometimes, but the thought of riling Monica almost made him laugh.
Jason saw a printed broadcast to all citizens. He read the title: “Department of Defense: Citizen Registration.” He didn’t bother reading further. “I’ve seen this already. Just like everyone, I’m sure.” He picked it up and arched a confused eyebrow at her. “Why on earth did you bother printing this off? Why so upset?”
She stood up, a little too straight, her athletic arms folded tightly across her chest. Ah, he thought, all the signals of her anger. If she only knew how easy she is to read.
For a moment she just let her ice-cold stare bore into him, disregarding his objections as she so often did. Jason patiently waited for her to answer. Finally, in a voice that typically got what she wanted, she said, “Jason, you’re supposed to be a genius. What kind of idiot doesn’t see this exactly for what it is?”
He arched an eyebrow, knowing how it would affect her. “Exactly? It’s literally what it says. Registration for all citizens. We do this all the time for licensing purposes and our ID’s. It’s not a big deal. Presumably, you see something else, which is not explicitly stated in the requirement. Let’s see . . . assuming your usual distaste for governmental, uh, shall we say ‘interference’ in your daily life, I’m guessing you view this as a personal attack on your freedom.”
“Listen, you idiot savant, the ‘requirement,’” she said, making quotations in the air with her fingers, “which I did not and do not agree with by the way, passed without a vote or without citizen input. The government isn’t asking us to renew our work licenses or input our travel permits, they’re saying we’ll be tracked everywhere. ALL the time,” she said, nearly shouting. “They want our uplinks to be monitored constantly. If you read this, then you’ll know they also expect visual augmentation, so whatever we’re looking at can be recorded.” She picked up the paper and crumpled it, throwing it on the floor. “This is crazy!”
Jason frowned. “Some citizens have already had voluntarily visual augmentation, Monica. It’s no big deal. I can perform the operation on the fly and in under an hour. It provides quite a few benefits.”
She stepped closer, leaning forward confrontationally. “I’m not talking about using technology to help diagnose and record symptoms of a patient, Jason. Who the hell needs to see me staring at the door of a bathroom stall? Why does the government need to watch the holograms while I’m watching them? Voluntary is one thing, and those people who volunteered can turn the stupid thing off and on at will. Why does the Council or any authority need to know what I’m doing all the goddamn time? It’s already bad enough that almost everything we talk about is recorded if we aren’t in our private quarters or some other secure location.”
She stood up and turned away, running her fingers through her unruly bangs. Her tone changed. “Jason,
this is really bad. We have so little privacy as it is. Now they want it all. Our privacy is valuable. It’s our freedom. This tyranny is getting out of control. Most of our freedoms are gone already, given up in little bits for the ‘betterment of society.’” She ran a hand down her form-fitting outfit, which covered her from shoulder to toe. “We agreed to wear these biosuits so we could be monitored for health. I understand your job is much easier when you have a constant flow of data from a patient. I’m less than thrilled about the fact my entire bodily processes are an open book to a Medic, or you can, at your leisure, anesthetize or otherwise drug me out of my mind by simply ordering my suit to obey your whim.”
Jason opened his mouth to object, but she cut him off.
“Yeah, I know there are rules against abuse and a committee you have to report to, but it doesn’t diminish the fact we have so little power.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay, so yeah, public places are watched and listened to constantly right now, and the result is almost no crime. I love the automation of our vehicles and our robots, which makes traveling and working so much easier, never mind the fact they are all controlled by the Techs. But Jason, I can’t ignore this new mandate. We’re talking about my body, for Christ’s sake.”
She walked across the room, keeping her back to him. Jason could see she was trying to take a moment to calm herself.
She turned back towards him. “I can’t allow myself to be branded and used as a living robot to spy on everything and everyone around me. At least you Medics have to answer to each other and your superiors for every action you take. Having to answer to someone makes your ability to harm seem less likely, even though you control the life and death of everyone around you. If you abused your power, you’d be punished.”
“Where are you going with that?” he asked.
“Just hear me out.” She dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged to look up at him. “The Techs are so divorced from the world, they seem to no longer know what’s real. They are genetically engineered into their technology—even the government doesn’t understand or control them. They might as well be super androids. But this power, this is in the hands of people who have clawed their way to the top and have zero qualms about abuse. I’m afraid that for many of them taking advantage of others is in their nature.”
Sector Seven Page 3
