Chapter 4, Part II

"I have finished my shift, officer."

The officer looked up from the computer screen to see two rather unique figures waiting before him. Both wore costume entirely different from the other guards; in addition, they were somewhat dirtied with rooftop tar. He stood for a moment, staring.

The taller newcomer impatiently shifted, pulling out a swipe card. "My name is Chader, officer; I have finished my shift with my comrade here." Somewhat suspicious, the officer scanned the card for signs of fraud. "No picture?"

"No officer, the card was replaced a week ago; I have not had the time to get a new picture taken. My friend here" – nudging Inusha – "still has not received his replacement, but I can vouch for him."

"Interesting, quite interesting – two good friends both lose their cards at the same time. Tell me, Chader, how tall would you describe yourself to be? Six feet?"

Ehoti gulped. He had not thought of that. "Possibly, officer; I have grown quite a bit since I received the card."

"Indeed; the card describes one with a stature of less than five and a half. Quite odd that you should gain six inches in less than a week." The officer looked up with a small smile. "Your eyes are brown, not blue."

Inusha glanced anxiously around the room, wondering how much attention they were gathering – already several guards were whispering together near the beverages. "Colored lenses, sir; he likes the change." A ridiculous proposition – he knew no one in their right mind would believe such a statement.

The officer sighed. "And your hair is brown, not black. Dye, I suppose?"

"Exactly officer, I dye it quite often." Ehoti looked fearlessly into the officer's eyes. "I have a hair appointment in about an hour, so if you could hurry us by, I would be very thankful."

The officer looked the stranger straight in the eye, a faint smile the only emotion displayed on his face. No disbelief, yet no belief either – only the expression one used to feign interest in a child's game. Slowly, he reached under his desk, searching for something. Already several guards were gathering around the strangers, wondering what was taking so long.

Things were not going as planned.

*****

Cautiously, the doctor opened the door and entered the room, gazing with sadness at the area of beds. There lay ten picked men – men he had once known as comrades. And comrades they still were, though the resemblance had blurred almost to the point of invisibility.

It was somewhat relieving that even though the insanity continued its course, the screaming had stopped. Now each lay quietly, their faces blank with no signs of knowing anyone. They did not speak, they did not eat, and they did not drink. Almost as if they were dead.

What was this disease, that none of the medical arts could cure or even treat? Why did it continue to defy him, regardless of his best efforts to discover a treatment? Where did it come from? Why was it here? And most importantly, what was the range of its contagion?

Sighing, he leaned against the wall. He was exhausted, worn to the point of collapse. Dragging screaming men to bondage, constantly checking the straps for strength, and always arriving just in time to force a crazed guard to take a breath.

He knew each one well, warriors that wanted to live life to the fullest, chasing after their dreams and ambitions with passion. Out of all guards the doctor had known, these seemed to be most alive of all – until now.  Why suicide? Why this new desire to prematurely shorten one's life?

Slowly he walked back to the door, fighting the overwhelming desire to drop to the floor in fatigue. Even this fatigue seemed unnatural, this sleep pulling at his eyelids like hundred pound weights. Life seemed unnatural to him; unreal, unfit to live in. Everything was happening so fast and blurry, too fast to keep track of or even care about. With a yawn, the doctor fainted on the floor.

 *****

If Wenla had loosed himself at any other time but then, Areola and the doctor would have captured him and retied his bonds. But the doctor was unprepared, lying on the ground in a dead faint. Areola was unprepared, assuming that the doctor had his eye on the patients. And Wenla was unprepared, lacking the only means to rid himself of the disease. It was, to be sure, a fateful combination of events and circumstances.

He stooped, looking at the doctor's prostrate figure stretched out on the floor in mild curiosity. But he lost interest quickly; he wanted to leave this place. Quietly, he opened the door and stepped into the hallway, anxiously looking for signs of Areola. But Areola was in bed, taking a much-needed rest from the worries of outpost life.

Wenla ran to the emergency stairway and softly closed the door behind him, noting with glee the click of the one-way lock as he descended the steps. Even if he wanted to return to the outpost, he would need for one of his comrades to admit him in. But he didn't want to return.

Running into the field, Wenla laughed aloud. He was free from bondage! No longer would his hateful comrades constrain him in a bed and strap him down in safety – they no longer had any control. He was free to roam the entire planet if he wanted, and no one could tell him what to do.

Would you not agree to the irony of Wenla's definition of freedom? As he ran joyfully across the field to the forest, he was subjected to the bondage and will of It. He had given up all resistance, content to let it control him. Wenla was free; in captivity to the deadly horrors of an invincible foe. It was happy enough to allow the prisoner to play with his chains as long as the chain formed into a noose. Still more, if the noose ensnared others in the strangulation.

Yes, Wenla had his liberty; the day he unleashed the full destructive powers of It upon the whole of Netopia. His freedom brought the world's doom.

*****

"Doctor, such an experiment would never be a success!" The nurse glared at the doctor, her lab coat stained red from the previous operation. She and five other nurses were sitting with the doctor in a conference room at Querilon.

The doctor adjusted his glasses and smiled. "My dear Vandigera, you have no idea what you talk of. What do you know of tele-techno cyprocess?"

"Enough to know that such an experiment is foolishness at best. You cannot reduce the body to such a state of animal-like characteristics-"

"Of course, Vandigera, of course. Your moral qualms will most definitely stand in the way of science, as do all of the other weak-minded nurses."

Vandigera flushed red at the mention of morality. "I am not weak-minded, doctor, nor do I bring my morals to Querilon each morning. But we all know that the body is constructed a certain way, an intelligent design. You cannot do this, both in the name of science and the name of humanity!"

"Of course not; it would be daft to suppose so." The doctor leaned forward, smiling widely at the agitated nurse. "But oh, would it not be so much fun to try?"

He turned to the other nurses, smile broadening as he spoke. "We are not limited by humanity, morality, or decency here in Querilon, as you all know so very well. This experiment, you might say, is enchanting in nature." The doctor removed several documents from his desk and distributed them, continuing to explain the experiment.

"Thirty minutes in the geriofactor cyclonizer will bring the body to the right temperature and chemical make-up, allowing us to do the delicate work ourselves without the complex machinery. We will have plenty of time, plenty of fresh air, and oh, so much fun!"

"And what will this create, doctor? Bio-killing waste to be disposed of, as is in countless other experiments you perform? A clone that lives five minutes at most, fouling our equipment and killing our patients? What will your experiment accomplish that has not yet come to existence?"

"My dear Vandigera, sweet poppet, you have yet to be revealed the depths of medical experimentation at Querilon. You have seen the dredges, the failures; for you are a nurse, and naturally the nurses are assigned the mundane drudgery surrounding the failures of such experiments. But for the first time in your life will you see brilliance.

We will create the first-ever human animal – a combination of a creature and a man. No one has ever attempted such a task, none have thought of such an idea; until now. You should be on your knees weeping at the chance to contribute so greatly to the realm of medicine-"

"Of death, doctor! You care naught of medicine or healing, only destruction and inhumane curiosity! Too many times have I held the hand of a dying man, leaving his life because you were interested in what might happen if you removed a vital organ. Too many times-"

"Silence!" The doctor rose from his seat, motioning to the other nurses. "I did not ask you here because I wanted to argue the morality of an experiment. I asked you here because I am commanding you, as your employer, to help your coworkers with the equipment during the operation!

We will begin in less than an hour, at the critical operations center. I would advise you not to be late…"