Serial Escalation

by Sean E. Britten

  “I know this-, I know what this is, it’s called a kill switch, isn’t it?” Thao said, “This is-, it’s part of a game-, Slayerz.”

  “That’s right.” The doctor said, “As they explained to you back at the prison, you’ve been chosen to play it this year.”

  “What prison? What are you talking about?” Thao said, “Get that thing the hell away from me!”

  “Calm down, I’m sure it will all come back to you soon.” The doctor said.

  The two guards rushed forward and easily overwhelmed Thao. Rolling up the sleeve of his orange jumpsuit, one of them held Thao’s right arm out straight for the doctor. The doctor fixed the sleeve around Thao’s forearm as he continued to struggle. The metal moulded itself to his arm, pulsing and breathing with him like a second skin so that after a few moments he could barely feel its presence.

  “No! No, that show is for criminals!” Thao said.

  “That’s right, the worst of the worst, just like you.” The doctor said, “Tomorrow, the guards will be back to take you to the start of the game where you’ll meet your partner. You should take the time to familiarise yourself with the game in case your memory fails to come back.”

  The guards shoved Thao back onto the bed. He immediately tried to pry the sleeve they’d just fitted him with off his arm but the seam where the sleeve came together had completely disappeared and the metal wouldn’t budge. Before they left, one of the guards activated the vidscreen on the wall. They disappeared back into the featureless hallway and the door sealed shut behind them. A blare of noise from the screen drew Thao’s attention.

  “This season on Slayerz! America’s favourite bloodsport!”

  “More contestants! More challenges! New weapons! New traps! The return of an earlier season’s champion? And, an Abomination round?”

  “Don’t be the only one to miss the action as it happens! Remember, the team that slays together stays together!”

  xXx

  There was nothing in the room to indicate the time, Thao had no idea how long it would be before the guards came back to take him. After the advert had played Thao flicked through the programming on his vidscreen. There were other ads, and old highlight reels of earlier seasons of Slayerz, as well as a selection of violent and action-packed movies. There was no useful info about the other competitors or anything that would give him a clue about his own identity.

  Thao also found a menu for food on the vidscreen. Ordering a hamburger, Thao waited for the guards to bring it to him and then tried to ask them questions but they refused to speak to him except to tell him to back up. He was genuinely hungry though so after they left he ate the burger and salad in spite of his confusion and anger.

  “The worst of the worst.” Thao said.

  On the screen across from Thao, a highlight episode of deaths from the last season of Slayerz was playing. On the tail end of a long and brutal fight one of last season’s contestants, a huge and heavily muscled man with a swastika tattooed on his chest, had gotten his knee stuck in a bear trap that had been hidden in some rubble. A howling dust storm was swirling around him and a man moving up behind him. The teeth of the trap had dug deep into flesh and bone, blood pouring out of the injury, but the Nazi was still trying to fight his way free. The second man in the fight was holding a Ripper, a kind of miniature chainsaw. He cut the big man’s throat down to the bone. Bleeding out, the Nazi toppled forward. His head hit a patch marking another camouflaged bear trap and its jaws tore through the ground, crushing the Nazi’s head like a grape and sending a spray of brains into the air.

  Thao looked away as the screen cut to the Nazi’s partner, trapped in a dark and dusty corridor with a shadowy figure looming over her. Thao tried to remember if he had actually watched the show. He could remember the rules, the setting of the game, but nothing specific. The faces of the fighters on the screen meant nothing to him.

  Thao didn’t feel like a criminal, for what it was worth. Looking at the note which had been pinned to his jumpsuit he didn’t feel like he deserved to be there. He wondered if the doctor had been right and if the amnesia was just a reaction to some drug he’d been given, meaning his memory would return in time. Something didn’t add up though. Thao didn’t know his own background but amnesia as a mere side effect sounded like bullshit. But who would want to make him forget who he was, and why? If he was a criminal, on death row or facing life in prison according to the rules of the game, then what was his crime? Something about that caused a twinge of familiarity and doubt at the back of his mind. He tried to chase the thought but it retreated without illumination.

  Not feeling tired after his drugged sleep, Thao cycled through some of the repeats of other games from previous seasons and a couple of movies on the vidscreen. A few times he felt recognition for something, or intuitively knew when something that should’ve been unexpected was going to happen on a Slayerz highlight or in a film, but he couldn’t link it to any specific memory. If he had been in prison there were a lot of things he wouldn’t have been allowed to watch. But then, he didn’t know anything about how long he’d been in prison any more than he knew what he was supposed to be guilty of.

  The violence on the screen both repulsed and hooked him. He felt some connection with it that he couldn’t quite explain. Was he a fan? Did he want to be on the show? Thao wondered if it would all make sense when his memory came back or if he would be left feeling just as confused and frightened.

  A headache started behind Thao’s eyes and wouldn’t go away. Eventually, he decided to turn the vidscreen off and lie down. Staring at the ceiling, Thao turned things over and over in his mind but big sections of his brain felt like empty rooms. The headache didn’t go away but he faded off to sleep. His last thought before he dropped off as what he would be waking up to, and who he would be if his memory came back.

  xXx

  After leaving Thao’s room, the doctor and his guards went through the rest of his rounds. The corridors between rooms were mostly featureless and stretched away, windowless, around the building. Even many of the workers and guards inside the hub didn’t know what was outside the walls, where the arena was located. Vents for gas disposal and small sentry guns dotted the ceiling outside the rooms in case any of the contestants actually tried to escape. The guards in their black armour shuttled the doctor around and then back to the bank of elevators on that floor.

  “Thank you, gentlemen.” The doctor said, “I’m going to the control room, so I’ll take it from here.”

  The elevator moved swiftly upwards, so smooth the little, bald man in the white lab coat could hardly feel it. It opened on a white hallway with more guards posted to either side. The doctor followed it down to an enormous bank vault door which opened into the central control room. The control room was much the same as the one Slayerz had used last season. It was a large and circular room surrounded by screens and small workstations. In the middle of the room was the holographic display, a huge, white table covered in a grid of grey lines. For the moment, the display was switched off but it would hold a real-time projection of the Slayerz arena along with the positions of all the contestants once the game began.

  Although the game was still a day away from starting the control room was a hive of activity as technicians hurried through their final checks and tests. Watching over the men and women was the head producer, Roland Smith. He was a tall man, lean and pale with his dark hair slicked back across his head. His expensive suit hung perfectly tailored off his narrow frame. Roland had been head producer on Slayerz for the last several seasons, a year-long role of running down contestants, overseeing the assembling of new arenas and coming up with new traps and games.

  Last season, it had almost gone all wrong for Roland. Thanks to the interference of an activist group called PETP, People for the Ethical Treatment of People, the final two Slayerz contestants had gotten inside the control room, still armed, and one of them had killed one of the technicians as well as a couple of activists. The rogue cont
estant’s partner had cut off his own arm to sever the kill switch connection between the two of them and stop him. The doctor hadn’t been present for it, and he knew the official version, but he had also heard rumours about the ruthless way Roland had tried to bribe the killer. Still, Roland wore an easy grin as he watched everything come together. All the control room technicians that year were new to the job and eager to please.

  “Doc, how are our stone cold killers looking?” Roland said.

  “The three of them are awake but don’t have any memories of who they are, what they’re doing here.” The doctor said, “We’re ready to go.”

  “They’re not coming back?” Roland said.

  “Those-, side effects, can be a little unpredictable, sir.” The doctor said, “They might get flashes of memory, ideas of who they were, but I doubt their whole memory will return before the game is finished.”

  Roland grinned broadly, looking around the room to make sure no one else was listening in on their conversation. All the techs were too engrossed in their own work.

  “Tell me again why we couldn’t just load them up with new memories?” Roland said.

  “Those things never take, they would probably shut down and be totally useless before the game even got started.” The doctor said, “Sir, don’t you think we’re playing with fire as it is?”

  “Playing with fire, that’s what we do here, isn’t it?” Roland pat the doctor on the shoulder, “Come on now, not like we had much of a choice. Consider it a test run.”

  Chapter Two.

  “On your feet, contestant!” A voice said, “Put these on.”

  Thao woke as the door to his room slid open. Two guards moved inside, wearing faceless helmets and black armour. They tossed a stack of clothing to the foot of the bed as Thao shot upright. He felt refreshed but his memory still hadn’t returned. Thao remembered the apartment, Slayerz, his conversation with the doctor, and what he’d watched on the vidscreen last night, but nothing before he’d woken up with the note pinned to his chest.

  “Is it time? Is the game starting?” Thao said.

  “Put the clothes on.” One of the guards said.

  Thao’s heart was thundering. He couldn’t tell if it was the same guards from yesterday or another couple, given their opaque masks.

  The clothing was all black, pants, undershirt, dress shirt. They came with a pair of black tactical boots like a cop might wear and a lightweight armoured vest. On top of it all was a long black trench coat that seemed perfectly tailored to Thao’s size. The guards backed off but didn’t turn away, watching Thao as he stripped off and then dressed in the new clothes. He was glad to be out of the prison coveralls even though he was more worried about the game starting. Thao didn’t know how to strap on the vest and neither of the guards helped but eventually he secured it and buttoned the shirt on over it. When he was finished he rolled back the sleeve of his coat so he could see his bracelet vidscreen clearly.

  “Come on, hurry up, contestant.” The second guard said.

  “I still don’t remember anything.” Thao said, “I can’t-, I don’t know why I’m here, it’s not fair!”

  “Life isn’t fair, the game is the fairest thing you’ll ever see. Fifteen teams enter and one leaves, simple.” The guard said, “Get going, you either walk there or we’ll drag you.”

  Thao’s heart was thundering so hard in his chest it hurt, and made his breathing short. The guard’s fist bunched and loosened over a stun baton that was clipped to his belt.

  “No, no, it’s not right.” Thao said.

  The second guard moved in, whipping out his stun baton. He plunged it into the underside of Thao’s ribs. The armour under Thao’s clothing dampened the shock but not by much, spreading it out across his chest instead. His body went rigid and he spilled to the floor, losing control of his legs. Even after the baton was removed Thao was left shaking for several seconds.

  “That was the setting two, contestant, you want to try for setting five?” The guard said, “On your feet! Move it!”

  Thao was pushed out of the room and down the corridor. It was featureless except for the occasional grey doorway like the one Thao’s room had been sealed behind. They marched Thao into a waiting elevator and Thao could feel them moving down smoothly and rapidly. There was a small scorch mark on his black shirt, under the coat, where the stun baton had hit him. The guards bristled as if ready for more trouble but Thao felt too helpless to fight back. The kill switch on his right arm, which he couldn’t remove, would ensure even if he somehow overpowered the two larger, armed and armoured men, and made a run for it, he wouldn’t get far.

  When the elevator opened they stepped into a small alcove and waited. Another door opened and Thao moved back, trying to stay in control even as his hands started shaking. From what he remembered and what he’d been watching of Slayerz he knew there was usually some clash or irony in the way the producers paired up different partners. Thao didn’t even know who he was though or what he’d done, so he had no idea who or what was about to step through the doors.

  Two guards exited the elevator flanking a woman who stood head and shoulders over Thao. He didn’t recognise her and there didn’t seem to be any flicker of recognition on her face either. A rough ponytail was pulled back behind the younger woman’s head. Her mouth was set in a thin line, eyes dark and hard. Thao could see some scar tissue on the left side of her neck, peeking out from under her collar. Her most obvious feature, however, was her left arm which hung heavy and for the moment lifeless down her left side.

  The woman was dressed in what looked like a military outfit with no insignia, a combat vest covered in pockets and webbing and dark, baggy pants. There were no sleeves on the outfit, showing off her heavily muscled right arm, broad shoulders, and a solid neck and torso, a weightlifter’s build. Her left arm was all mechanical from the shoulder down. Thick, black cables like muscle tissue peeked between gaps of smooth and light grey plates of armour that looked like super-hardened porcelain. A bracelet was fitted around the women’s right forearm, matching Thao. Another, much larger shackle was locked around her left wrist like an anchor. The guards ran a device over both Thao and the woman’s sleeves.

  “They’re linked.” One of the guards said.

  “I’m-, I’m Thao.” Thao said.

  “Jackson, Layla Jackson.” The woman said.

  The woman eyed Thao suspiciously. A guard waved a key card across the massive cuff on Layla’s left wrist. The shackle unlocked and fell to the ground between them with a loud clunk. Immediately, the younger woman’s cyborg arm came to life with a soft hum. Layla moved it, studying the range of motion in her hand as if checking to see nothing had been damaged by the cuff. Servos whined softly but perceptibly and Thao could see the array of interlocking plates of armour working in concert to allow the arm to shift and move. The mechanical hand and each finger was thick and powerful-looking but seemed just as flexible as a living hand.

  “Don’t try anything, contestant, that kill switch is live.” A guard nodded toward the end of the hallway, “Get moving, that way, keep walking until you reach the crates.”

  Side by side, Thao and the heavily muscled cyborg started to head down the hallway and into the huge space it opened into. Thao glanced back at the guards who remained in the alcove behind them. His hands were still shaking. They found themselves in an enormous and windowless dome ringed with doorways. Metal walkways crisscrossed overhead. Fifteen pathways spread out in a semicircle toward a series of fifteen crates. A few teams were already waiting and angry, paranoid faces watched them, while others walked out alongside Thao and Layla. An enormous stage and screen sat in the middle of the dome beyond the crates.

  “So, what are you in for?” Layla said, “You might as well come clean before we get started, going to be up on the screen anyway.”

  “I don’t know.” Thao said.

  “Usually the court provides a pretty clear reason, judge, lawyers, bunch of people in a box off to one
side?” The towering soldier said, “Pretty sure only death row or life imprisonment inmates wind up here where you’re standing.”

  “No, I really don’t know, I woke up here-, they said I had a bad reaction to the drugs they used to-, subdue me or something. I couldn’t remember anything, not even my own name.” Thao said, “It was literally pinned to my shirt and I-, I don’t feel like I should be here.”

  “Okay, I guess we’ll find out together.” Layla said, “Wouldn’t surprise me if they were trying to pull some shit though.”

  “No, no, no!” Someone screamed.

  A pair of guards appeared from one of the doorways dragging a man in a suit and tie. He struggled and fought against them pathetically, unable to do any real harm. There was a sleeve with a screen and kill switch around his right arm and another man, his partner, followed the guards of his own volition. The guards shoved the man down in front of his crate.

  “I’m not meant to be here! This isn’t right!” The man yelled.

  “Stay there, don’t move, or them up there are going to fucking fry you!” One of the guards said.

  Other guards, armoured in black, were pacing the walkways that crisscrossed the roof of the dome. The suited man was crying but stayed where he was as the guards left.

  “I think that’s-, Baxter Webley, the big Wall Street guy who got caught hunting homeless people for sport.” Layla said.

  The man was short and stocky, with a thick waist although he would have only been in his mid-thirties. His blonde hair was thin and tousled across his head in a way that made it look artificial. His partner was taller and lankier, wearing a combat vest like Layla and with golden hoops through his ears and nose.

  “Do you recognise anyone else?” Thao said.

  Across the room were a man and a woman, linked together, who were already arguing. Tears were streaming down the woman’s face as she stabbed his hands at her partner, clearly aware of who he was. Several others were talking in more subdued voices or checking out the competition as well. No one seemed to be paying Thao any particular kind of attention so it didn’t seem like he had a personal relationship to any of them.