The Human Engineer
Page 3
“Deactivate!” the engineer’s weak voice shouted at the screen. The Feed flickered off, returning the wall to simply a wall. But he swore he could still see the outline of the woman’s face. The bloodshot rims of her swollen, puffy eyes. The accusation in her stare.
He went back to work, trying to funnel his thoughts into his research. He was so close to finishing this product. So close to having something new to show Dr. Alixter. To proving he was more than a one-trick pony. All he had to do was focus.
But as the afternoon wore on and the night crept in, the engineer found it harder and harder to silence his mind. To silence the sound of that woman’s sobs.
Finally, he gave up and collapsed onto his cot.
The pain. It was too much to handle. He felt a desperate, yet unfamiliar craving for something strong to numb it. Something liquid to wash it away. But he never kept alcohol in the lab. It would be dangerous and unprofessional.
As he lay on his makeshift bed and stared at the ceiling, the engineer noticed that the shadows on the wall appeared to be moving. He sat up with a start.
What was that?
Is there someone here?
He activated the overhead lamp and glanced around the room.
He was alone.
And yet, when he lay back down and extinguished the lights once more, the darkness seemed to dance. An eerily familiar routine that he swore he’d never experienced before.
He shut his eyes tight, jamming his fists into the sockets.
Go away, he pleaded desperately.
But the shadows did not listen. They crept dangerously closer. Never ceasing and yet somehow never reaching him. All the while, the mother’s grief-stricken moans echoed in his reckless thoughts.
I will find out who killed my son.
He could still see her face so clearly in his mind. Except now, she was here with him. She was standing beside his cot. She was looking down on him.
I will find you.
He jumped up and scrambled across the lab, invisible hands wielding invisible swords stabbing him with every movement. The moment he arrived at his desk, he crumpled like an empty sack. He reached for the center drawer, whimpering, tears streaming down his face. He wrenched it open and searched blindly until his fingertips brushed against the smooth surface of the capsule.
He scooped the tiny pill into his hands and stared at it.
“Give me one reason!” He shouted. “One reason I shouldn’t end it all now!” He didn’t know who he was talking to—the deactivated wall, the mother in mourning, some higher power?—but he felt the need to say it.
Something compelled him to ask.
Minutes passed but there was no reply. He wasn’t sure why he’d even expected one.
In a way, he was relieved by the silence. It was easier this way. Easier not to have to argue. Not to have to fight for what he knew was the only answer.
He slipped the capsule into his mouth.
“Please,” he begged. “Give me a reason.”
Once again, there was only empty silence in his head. A void where he swore a voice once lived.
He tossed his head back, letting the small messenger of death slide into his throat. He felt it scratch and claw and squeeze its way down. He felt it settle in his stomach cavity, releasing its poison.
He prayed it would be fast.
It was the first prayer he ever remembered being answered.
“The Human Engineer” copyright © 2014 by Jessica Brody
Art copyright © 2014 by Goñi Montes
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The Human Engineer
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