Agents of the Demiurge (10 page)

None of the Observers had the guts, the
talent, and the motive to do it. Which left one other possibility.
“Actually, Simone, forget that last message. Instead, I want you to
tell Ingrid 'there is a twelfth'.”

“A twelfth Observer?”

“That's right, sister. We got ourselves a
sleeper agent. Guy aligned himself with the wrong side, cause I'm
going to find him.”

Simone nodded. “And what do I get in exchange
for passing this message?”

“There's a postage stamp up my ass.”

“Erik . . . .”

“Same deal as last time. Ask a question and
I'll give you an answer.”

“Then I want to know what Hess did that was
so wrong.”

“I told you before. He tried to change the
world.”

“I want specifics, Erik, or your message
doesn't go.”

He took a deep breath. “Dear old Hess has
always had a bit of a soft heart, you see. Took in orphans and shit
like that. Tracked down serial killers from time to time . . . .
Anyway, I never cared about any of that. I do a fair amount of what
the others deem
participation
.

“But then, in Iteration one four three, Hess
makes himself king. He takes some tiny nation and conquers most of
the known world. Sets up national academies and a welfare system.
Gets his woman to do fancy accounting that bankrupts everyone
except them. Turns the entire world upside down.

“He touched the entire world. Everyone was
either under his rule, under the rule of someone allied with him,
or under the rule of one of his enemies. I never had a problem with
the orphans, but this was too far. He stopped observing. The
Creator gave him a holy mission and he went rogue so pathetic
creatures like you would have happier lives.”

“Is that really so terrible?”

Erik laughed. “Hell yeah, it is. I don't
expect you to ever understand the big picture, but the lot of you
are ants living in the dirt. What would you think of a man who
bulldozed your house for the benefit of an ant colony?”

“We are not ants.”

“Oh, I know. Ants have better character.”

Simone rolled her eyes. “Why did you take
that man's eye? Did you do it in revenge for the pain he caused
you? Or were you motivated by hatred?”

“There were a lot of reasons to get pokey
with my thumb. I don't like you creatures to begin with, and your
whole Church opposes existence.”

“Not existence,” Simone said. “The
Creator.”

“I thought we were done arguing about what
you people want.”

“So you put your thumb in a man's eye because
you hate us?”

“And I like to see fear when my
punishers
look at me. Plus I'm stuck here. You know, the
whole prison aspect. I managed to get a hand free, so I had to take
advantage of it. Hess might have figured out a way to escape, but
the only option I could see was doing some damage.”

She leaned closer. “Whatever you feel for
Hess borders on obsession. I can't figure out if it is hate or love
or some combination of the two.”

“Don't go analyzing me like a person again. I
don't get into love or sex or even companionship. I'm not built
that way. I don't need another person to
get me
. The Creator
does that.”

There was a knock on the door. Simone checked
her watch. “Our session is up. I will talk to you again tomorrow.”
Before she put a hand on the door, she turned back. “I finally
watched a sunset.”

“Beautiful, right?”

Simone nodded. “Will this world really cease
to exist?”

“Just like all the others. Some day
everything you know will be just a memory in the head of some
eye-poking asshole.”

Elza took the
lead in their planning the moment she mentioned building a nuclear
weapon. She turned off the television, herded them into the dining
room, and began to outline their course of action.

“Our most immediate concern is hiding from
the Church authorities. We will assume a nation-wide hunt is under
way. Given that our obvious tell has been revealed to the world, we
can expect at a minimum for every citizen to be tested once. Anyone
who managed to avoid the mandatory testing would be identified as a
suspicious person.”

She fixed her eyes on Hess. “The most obvious
way to avoid capture is to disappear, but if you intend to launch a
rescue operation, we can't go into hiding. We will need the
advantages provided by my wealth and your position if we intend to
succeed.”

Hess nodded.

“Then we need to pass their test. That means
two things. First, we must appear to retain an injury inflicted on
us. This shouldn't be too difficult if we can get reliable
intelligence on which area of the body is most likely to be
targeted. A shallow layer of latex will suffice to replicate a
laceration or shallow puncture wound.

“The second thing we need to worry about is
blood. Both the blood that remains on the wound and the blood that
stains the testing implement. While our blood flows quite
believably outside our bodies, its tendency to vanish within
minutes of its exit will be their primary means of identifying
us.

“Which is why we will require frequent, large
blood transfusions.” Elza pointed to her wrist. “I know from
experience that our bodies will not only retain foreign blood, but
subsequently shed it in a mundane manner.”

In response to Jerome's expression, Hess
whispered, “She likes to conduct experiments.”

“I didn't realize her hobby extended to
studying our nature.”

“Why not?”

“Because our purpose is to study the people,”
Jerome said.

“No, I mean why didn't you know about her
experiments? I thought you had the summary of our entire lives in
your head.”

Jerome rolled her eyes. “It's an executive
summary. It's more of a highlight reel than a comprehensive
history.”

“We don't have time for these tangents,” Elza
said. “If you want to get Ingrid out of prison, then we need to
begin our preparations.” She pointed at Hess. “Get liquid latex and
acrylic paints from a craft store. Black, red, blue, and yellow at
a minimum. Pay with cash and get home quickly.”

She pointed at Jerome next. “You're coming
with me to the hospital to help pick up some type O. I can bankroll
the purchase, but someone with pale skin needs to perform the
transaction.”

“You want me to buy blood on the black
market?”

“They call it an underground market this
Iteration, due to obvious reasons, but yes, I want you to buy
something that the seller doesn't have the legal right to sell.
They should agree to the transaction if you offer them a generous
sum. Then they play around with their records to make the blood
disappear from the system.”

Jerome hesitated. “And if they refuse?”

“Then we visit another hospital. There are
five within driving distance.”

“And if they report me to the police?”

Hess slapped Jerome on her bony back. “Save
some of your panic for when we're charging into a Church torture
compound with a nuke.”

With a sigh much too large for Jerome's
slight frame, she stood. “Let's get this over with.”

Hess made it back home hours before the
others. To productively pass the time, he began mixing paint with
latex in small batches, then comparing the dried product to his
flesh. After some experimentation, he managed to achieve a
reasonable match and moved on to the creation of false skin.

The task proved less difficult than he had
expected, requiring little more than a steady hand and an eye for
detail. Hess painted a layer onto his forearm, then cut himself
with a knife. Blood welled upward through wound and artifice to
pool, run, and drip onto the table surface.

When his injury erased itself from existence
and his blood reverted to its proper location, Hess scrutinized the
gash held in place by latex. Discounting the lack of blood, it
appeared realistic enough.

Lights from outside caught his attention.
Hess moved to the window, where he saw one of the Church SUV's
opening its doors to release a swarm of Deputy Investigators. Hess
ran back into the living room, plastered a small amount of premixed
skin onto his index finger, hastily molded it while he moved to the
fridge and retrieved a tray of thawing ground beef.

Hess sliced his finger, then dipped a kitchen
towel in the puddle beneath the ground beef and wrapped that around
the wounded appendage. Pounding at the door announced the arrival
of the Investigators. Hess tossed the meat into the trash, threw a
jacket over the evidence of his experimentation with latex,
squeezed some beef juice from his makeshift bandage onto the knife
blade, and walked to the door.

A second round of pounding began just as he
yanked the door open. Before they could say a word, Hess waved his
wrapped hand in front of them. “Whatever you want, it has to wait
five damn minutes!”

He didn't give them time to process his
words, but went about the business of locating his first aid kit
and then cleaning and bandaging his fake injury while the Church
Investigators watched. “Damn the Demiurge,” he muttered loud enough
for all to hear. “This is that woman's fault for not taking care of
the leftovers.”

Hess made eye contact with the dominant one
of the group. “Honestly, I wish I could afford trained help. Do you
know how hard it is to live on the bluff when you have to hire
incompetent pales from the Boyce neighborhood? Theora's father
certainly took notice of her inadequacies. And he very bluntly
called me on them in front of everyone.”

The Deputy opened his mouth and Hess resumed
his rant, seizing the knife and tossing it into the sink. “Cutting
my own leftovers. I'll bet Mr. Winfield would find it hilarious
that I cut myself. Damn the Demiurge!”

All three of the Deputies exchanged awkward
glances.

“I'm sorry for my outburst, gentlemen. I
hired that woman to impress Mr. Winfield, but it backfired
spectacularly. The plan was to request his permission to ask for
Theora's hand.” Hess sighed. “But instead of asking for
her
hand, I made a fool of myself and now I have cut
my own
hand. Or at least a finger.”

“Mr. Orlin,” the leader of the deputies said,
“We need to test you.”

“I've been drinking, but I never went
anywhere near my car.”

“Right, Mr. Orlin. We need to test that you
aren't an Agent.”

Hess snorted. “What do you want me to do?
Curse the Demiurge? I've been doing that all night, buddies.”

“We need to see your blood,” the man
said.

“Seriously? It's on the table, it's on the
rag, it's all over the place.”

“We're supposed to draw it ourselves.”

Hess picked up the kitchen towel streaked
with red. “Here is my blood. Honestly, why are you coming here in
the middle of the night trying to draw my blood? Haven't I had a
bad enough day as it is?”

Awkward silence. Then one of the other men,
silent up until this point, spoke. “He did bleed all over the place
while we watched. More blood than we saw from any of the people we
did ourselves.”

“Yeah.” The leader nodded. “Yeah, you're
right. Take it easy, Mr. Orlin. We'll get out of your way.” He
paused at the door. “Oh, there's something that might make you feel
a bit better on the news.”

“What's that?” Hess asked.

“They found an Agent of the Demiurge.”

Hours later, Elza returned with Jerome and a
duffel bag. She wasted no time hanging bags of blood from wire coat
hangers suspended off of ceiling fans and jabbing needles into
veins for all three of them.

Hess snapped his fingers at Jerome. “You have
to keep moving the needle. Let it sit still for too long and your
body will disintegrate the metal. An Observer taking a transfusion
is pretty much constant poking.”

Jerome clenched her jaw. “How much blood do
we need?”

“Three units a day,” Elza said, then, when
Jerome made a face, continued, “Or you could risk a visit to the
Church headquarters under less pleasant circumstances. Honestly,
Jerome, this may be inconvenient, but it beats the
alternative.”

“Assuming latex and packed red blood cells
fool anyone.”

“It will,” Hess said, nodding towards the
band-aid on his finger. In response to their startled expressions,
he detailed the events of that evening, causing Jerome to mutter
imprecations.

Halfway through his first unit of blood, Hess
let the needle linger in place for too long and its tip vanished,
eliminated from existence where it intersected his body. He swapped
in a fresh needle and went back to work. Their nature conspired to
make receiving blood difficult, but fortunately their immunity to
disease allowed them to reuse and swap needles with impunity.

As they finished their transfusions, Elza
doled out further assignments. The duty of discovering the details
of the Investigator's test fell to Hess. It would be his
responsibility to learn where they needed to apply a layer of latex
pseudo-skin. He also needed to pre-mix dye and latex to match their
flesh tones.

To Jerome, Elza gave the job of computer
research, the purpose of which was to create a report of the Church
headquarters' facilities, personnel, traditions, and standard
operating procedures. Elza informed them that she would begin
sourcing the materials and components necessary for the
construction of their nuclear weapon.

They managed a few hours of sleep before the
light of dawn brought them awake to tackle their tasks. That first
day, Hess colored latex before visiting his neighbors on various
errands. He returned a borrowed garden hose, gifted a fifth of
premium gin, asked for suggestions on planning the upcoming Church
picnic, and complained about his disastrous dinner party the
previous night.