by Alec Birri
James was wondering if a sharp pain in the stomach would be worth the effort of trying to enter Savage’s mind, when their eyes met.
‘Ah, James. It’s good to see a friendly face. Do come in.’ The professor nodded to the Astaff.
Tim was about to head back to their cell when James grabbed his arm. ‘He’s with me.’
Savage seemed puzzled by that, but gave the robot another nod anyway, and both men entered the cell.
‘I must apologise, gentlemen. I would offer you both a drink, but I understand alcoholic refreshments aren’t allowed.’
James let go of his cellmate. ‘Is it true?’
‘Is what true?’ said Savage.
‘That somewhere in that fucked-up brain of yours lies the mind of a monster.’
Savage ignored his ex-colleague and offered Tim his hand. ‘James appears to have forgotten his manners, as well as good English – how do you do. John Savage.’
Tim was being shaken like a rag doll but managed to squeak his name in return.
James glared at Savage. ‘You should be honoured, Tim. You’re in the presence of the world’s most evil man.’
‘Why do I get the impression only one of you is taking his medication?’
‘Not me!’ Tim was keen to impress. ‘I’m going to take the full course!’ His face flushed with embarrassment when James switched to scowling at him instead.
Savage patted Tim on the shoulder. ‘Good for you, Tim!’
‘Good? You call the deliberate manipulation of someone’s sexuality good?’
‘You need to finish the course too, James,’ said Savage. ‘There may not be another person fighting you in there, but until it comes to reason, your conscience will do battle with itself just the same, and without the red pill that can only cause you misery in the meantime. Trust me – I know.’
Tim turned on James. ‘Of course it’s good! Who the hell wants to be gay?’
‘You’ve been brainwashed, you idiot! Why can’t you see what’s going on?’
Savage stood between them. ‘Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. We mustn’t get off on the wrong foot. Especially as there’s still so much to be done. Ah! Good – tea.’
All three men looked at the Astaff. It was holding a tray that contained a china teapot, a bowl of sugar, a jug of milk, cup, saucer, spoon and even a plate of biscuits.
‘What the fuck is this?’
‘I’ll be glad when you’ve won your appeal, James. Prison appears to be playing havoc with your understanding of what constitutes acceptable language.’ Savage asked the Astaff to fetch two more cups.
James was aghast as well as disgusted. ‘This is a prison, not a hotel. What’s with all the special treatment?’
‘Being a member of the same golf club as the Home Secretary does have its advantages. One lump or two?’
‘You’re no different to the rest of us – no. That’s wrong. You’re worse. Much worse.’
Savage sighed. ‘No, James. I’m afraid you’re wrong. You are a convicted criminal. I, on the other hand, am merely being detained while the Americans and Israelis fight over who has the legal right to bring me to a trial – however ridiculous that concept may sound.’
‘I wouldn’t call holding the Angel of Death to account “ridiculous”.’
‘Try not to fall for the propaganda, James. I’m no more Joseph Mengele than Brian Passen was a retired fighter pilot.’
‘Who’s Brian Passen?’ Both men looked at Tim.
The extra cups arrived – along with two chairs. Savage poured while James brought Tim up to date.
‘So, only part of you is a Nazi, then?’
James corrected Tim. ‘No, he’s one-hundred per cent Nazi, all right. Just part Joseph Mengele.’
‘Don’t confuse things, James,’ said Savage. ‘Custard cream?’
James soured his face before taking the biscuit. He dunked it into his tea. ‘No wonder there’s nothing online about you. Who’s protecting you, or should I say was?’
Savage took a sip. ‘Mmmm. They were right. Prison tea is indeed excellent.’ He ignored James’ question, addressing Tim instead. ‘We’re all mongrels if you think about it, Tim. Ten-thousand or so generations since the dawn of time have ensured there’s a little of someone else in each of us.’ The professor made the slaughtering of millions sound natural. ‘The purpose of Doctor Mengele’s and my work was to ensure we could have a say in the process – that’s all.’
‘That’s all? You make it sound like choosing a new carpet. You’re interfering with the course of human evolution!’
‘May I remind you, Mrs Adams has happily had a hand in that too, James? How is the little tyke, by the way?’
James munched on his biscuit in silence.
Savage looked at the Astaff stationed outside. ‘Anyway. Without wishing to change the subject or cause alarm, I’m afraid there are more pressing concerns that need addressing and as soon as possible.’
His fellow inmates said it together. ‘What concerns?’
‘Surely you’ve noticed there’s no longer a need to blank out the barrage of other people’s thoughts?’
James and Tim looked at each other before wincing and covering their ears. They dropped their hands again once the barriers were back up.
Savage tried. Silence. ‘Fascinating.’ He approached the Astaff. ‘I need to speak to er, someone.’
The Astaff’s plastic features forged themselves into what was supposed to be a smile. ‘If you would like to complete a request slip, Sir John, I’ll ensure it reaches the appropriate department.’
‘No, I need to speak with who or whatever is controlling you. It’s a matter of urgency.’
The robot regarded his charge with puzzlement. At least that was how it was meant to be interpreted. ‘I’m under the control of the prison authorities. If you wish…’ The Astaff’s expression changed. Just as perplexed but more natural this time, as if it now understood something or had been made more aware. More human, even. ‘That will…’ It had difficulty getting its words out. ‘Be possible… eventually.’ The face reverted to type. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with, Sir John?’
Savage re-entered his cell and closed the door behind him. ‘I’m going to need access to the prison’s mainframe.’
Chapter Two
‘I’ve had just about enough of this. You don’t know when to stop, do you?’ James got up and stood toe-to-toe with Savage. ‘Give it up, Mengele, and admit your past has finally caught up with you.’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible, James.’
‘Not possible? I don’t need to be a disgraced psychologist to recognise denial when I see it. Look at the evidence against you – forget about fraternisation with terrorists, you’ve openly admitted to carrying on the work of just about the most reviled man in history – second only to Hitler himself.’
‘You don’t understand. It’s more complicated than that.’
‘Then why don’t you educate me? I can’t believe I actually fell for all that crap about crime soon being a thing of the past.’ James shot an arm at Tim. ‘There is nothing criminal about a person’s sexuality!’
Savage looked at Tim. ‘A regrettable necessity, I’m afraid.’
James’ eyes widened, and he lunged at Savage, but the prison’s AI soon acted – abdominal agony caused James to grab his stomach and he fell to the floor. The pains eased and watering eyes squinted up at the professor. ‘You’re a monster, Savage, and you deserve everything that’s coming to you.’
‘Savage. Have I really sunk that low in your eyes?’ Tim helped James into a chair while the professor approached the cell’s window. The view couldn’t have been more opposite to the one he had enjoyed from his office – concrete in one form or another and as far as the eye could see. The only
greenery visible was a tuft of grass struggling to make itself known on the other side of the thick bars and glass that separated the men from their freedoms. Something was nestling within, and he stooped rather than zoomed in to see what it was – a small wild flower. A bumblebee settled on it.
Savage stood back up. ‘Compulsory euthanasia.’
Tim was none the wiser, but everything had now become clear to James. He managed to control his anger this time. ‘What’s the matter, Professor? The treatment’s side effect not doing the job fast enough for you?’
Tim was still in the dark. ‘Could someone please tell me what’s going on?’
James continued to nurse his stomach. ‘Eugenics, Tim. A horror we all thought had ended with the Nazis – the creation of a so-called super race of human beings at the expense of those deemed less worthy.’ He glared at Savage. ‘Now I know what you meant when you said you weren’t “interested in dementia”. The treatment is just a ruse to cover your real intent – the creation of a perfect society. I’m no fan of Alex Salib but thank God she saw through it all before it was too late.’
The professor was studying the bumblebee. ‘A predictable hypothesis, James. But tell me, why would someone with such disagreeable intent deliberately court the attention of a socialist firebrand like Ms Salib in the first place?’
‘To give the positive but no less uncomfortable side of your treatment legitimacy, of course. Even I can see the logic of voluntary euthanasia – providing it is truly a choice.’
The bumblebee flew away. ‘Hmmm. You don’t think Alex might have designs on her own super race?’
The noise of the cell door opening made all three men turn.
The Astaff smiled – sort of. ‘Your visitors have arrived, Sir John.’
‘Ah, gentlemen, I hate to be rude but I’m afraid this fascinating conversation will have to wait until another time.’ He went to follow the Astaff out but then stopped and turned round. ‘It’s going to be an education.’ He looked at the robot. ‘For all of us.’
The professor left his cell but only to face another barrage of insults. Attempts were made to turn the abuse physical, but they were soon ended – either by the interjection of the prison’s human staff or their artificial opposites. Savage stayed close to his escort, and the commotion faded behind.
‘You know, it is important we talk as soon as possible.’ The Astaff didn’t respond. ‘Particularly if a decision has or is about to be made.’
The rest of their journey was conducted without a word – until they reached the entrance to the visiting room. The Astaff held the door open, and broke its silence. ‘Your contribution to that is currently under consideration, Sir John.’ The robot had adopted another one of its almost genuine personas. ‘And the outcome will be made known to you in due course.’
Doctor and Mr Vasquez were alone in the room. Emil’s expression couldn’t be read, but Maria’s half-nervous smile was easy to perceive. Savage grinned in return, and she stood up. They then embraced physically for the first time in over sixty years.
Maria cried. ‘Oh, Juan. Can you ever forgive me?’
Savage took her hands. ‘Not only can but have. I never bear grudges and especially when it comes to family.’
Emil had never learned to speak English, but “family” was evident enough. ‘She’s not your sister. Never has been and never will be.’
Maria was about to admonish her husband, when Savage switched to speaking Spanish. ‘That’s quite all right. Not everyone can be persuaded by reasoned argument. It’s why the treatment became necessary in the first place.’
‘Persuaded. Reasoned. Necessary. My God. You even sound like him.’
Maria ignored Emil. ‘Anyway, how are they treating you in here? Is it as awful as they say it is? Are you getting enough to eat? You’re looking thinner already.’ She tugged at Savage’s sweatshirt and cringed. ‘Is this all there is to wear?’
The professor chuckled. ‘Still playing mother, I see, Maria.’
Emil mumbled under his breath. ‘Well, thanks to men like you that’s all she’s ever been able to do – play at it.’
Maria snapped. ‘We’ve already been through this, Emil. Juan is not Uncle Joe.’
‘What’s the difference? May as well be.’ Emil turned to Savage. ‘Got to hand it to both Mengele and you, though. The ultimate Final Solution. You were right, Maria. The shepherd may no longer be allowed to tend his flock, but they’re exactly where he wants them – lining themselves up at the abattoir.’
Maria was beginning to tire of her husband’s inability to see what was now clear to her. But only after she had forced Savage to admit there was more to him than met the eye. ‘I’ve already told you why it has to happen, Emil. Just accept it.’
Emil glared at his wife. ‘I might understand why, but I’ll never accept it.’ He pointed at Savage. ‘Being persuaded by this monster’s creator was bad enough so forget any ideas of me merging or having the treatment itself.’
‘The treatment would be preferable – especially for you two.’
Maria and Emil stared at Savage.
‘Real life has cruelly robbed you of the family you should have had. Biotechnology can correct that.’
It wasn’t news to the visitors. Maria took Emil’s hand while their decision was explained. ‘Despite my husband’s stubborn refusal to believe there’s nothing but good behind your work, Juan, it is tempting but, like life itself, modern technology is for the young, and we’re content with something much simpler – running an orphanage. We couldn’t let the children down.’
‘But you wouldn’t have to. AI will look after the orphans. It’s capable of not just occupying your bodies but mimicking you both in every way – the children would never know the difference.’ The Vasquez’ reaction told Savage their minds had been made up and couldn’t be changed. Not conventionally, anyway. He delivered a prognosis. ‘Nobody will be made to have the treatment, but if, through no fault of your own, you both end up being a burden to the state, then I’m afraid it’s likely to be inevitable. Either way, you’ll be able to relive your lives exactly how you would have wished – Ariloch will become the perfect village community it always should have been, and you can go back to the 1970s and have the children you always should have had.’ Savage broadened the scenario. ‘There’s no limit to an online existence. Not only will you be able to watch your children grow up but they’ll go on to have offspring of their own.’ Savage gestured towards the robot. ‘Is this reality really worth living in?’
Maria let go of her husband’s hand and took hold of Savage’s. ‘Whether the passage of time eventually changes our minds naturally or artificially, there are people in this world we care about, and that includes you. This is where we plan to stay and for as long as possible.’
Savage looked at the Astaff. If time is a luxury we still have.
The robot indicated the visit had to end. Maria and Savage stood up but not Emil.
‘I need a few moments alone with Juan, Maria. Do you mind waiting outside?’
Whatever it was, Maria didn’t appear to take offence at not being party to it. She hugged her pseudo-sibling one last time. ‘Will I ever see you again?’
The professor had no idea, but he beamed at her anyway. ‘Of course you will!’ Maria’s nervous smile returned, and she headed for the exit.
Emil waited for the door to close. ‘I’m hoping what Mengele put into your brain all those years ago includes the answer to a question that has bothered me for over fifty years. If so, you already know what I’m going to ask.’ Emil shifted in his seat. ‘Maria has never mentioned it, and for obvious reasons, I have never asked, but…’ He checked the door again. ‘What happened to her father? There’s no record of his death in the church’s archives and certainly no grave in Ariloch. It’s as if he became just another one of the disappeared
.’
The robot returned and stood by the professor.
‘Let’s just say he was made to see the error of his ways, and did the honourable thing.’ Savage went to rise, but Emil grabbed his arm. Emil’s whole body was shaking, and he swallowed hard.
‘Is that what this is about? We all must now do the honourable thing?’
Chapter Three
Savage stared at the television. The loss of his liberty was one thing but watching how others were taking advantage of it quite another.
‘Ms Salib, the BBC understands that despite your success in uncovering Professor Savage’s or, perhaps we should say, Doctor Mengele’s disturbing background, you’re siding with the government in challenging his extradition. Why is that?’
There was something new attached to Alex’s wheelchair, and she drew breath from the tube sticking out of it.
‘Can I start by expressing my heartfelt sympathies to those who have suffered directly because of his evil.’ She paused to draw a second breath. ‘And I’d like to reassure the Israeli people that their long-awaited day of justice will come just as soon as the Green Party has ensured the government investigates the extent of Savage’s atrocities.’
‘Atrocities? We’re talking about a man who single-handedly appears to have invented a panacea for just about every medical condition there is. Even if Mengele did manage to implant his own consciousness into the professor, it seems to have resulted in the exact opposite.’
Alex drew another breath. Savage wondered if she genuinely needed to or, with a general election just weeks away, the oxygen was merely a prop for garnering yet more public sympathy.
‘The operative words you used just now were “appears” and “seems”. The truth is, we don’t know, but what we do know is the Nazis were trying to create the horror of a master race and all of Savage’s so-called achievements fit in with that. The nightmare scenario is that there could be millions of Mengeles out there.’
