Ectopia (14 page)

- Does this slipcart move? Bender asked – Turn it around. Get me outta here.

 

The slipcart whirred out of the room, down the corridor, and turned left as doors slid open. They were in an elevator.

- I'll swallow something, Bender said, speaking a thought out loud, looking for the doc's opinion – Some acid should do it. Something strong enough to kill the baby without killing me. What acid would do that? What dosage?

- You've no womb, Bender. You can't miscarry. The only way this baby gets out of you is if it's cut out. Whoever does that will leave the placenta inside. The placenta will get absorbed. A fetus won't. A dead fetus will just hang around and rot. Your best bet for survival is to deliver a healthy baby. Healthy baby healthy parent. Remember that.

- I won't do it. You know that? I'll find a way. I'll cut it out myself if I have to.

- It's a baby. Just a baby. Not a demon. Your baby.

- You say women's bodies reject females. They refuse to bring daughters into the world. You think I want to do that? You think I want kids? I know Dads. I'll never do that. I'll never become a Dad. A Dad's the worst thing that can happen to a kid. Better to kill this kid than be its Dad.

The digits in the elevator touched zero then carried on down. Minus one. Minus five. The doors opened.

- You can move now, Doc Drake said – Just a little. Do it gently. The straps have loosened.

Bender eased himself forward. The corridor outside was light blue and brightly lit. Two young women dressed in white cotton gowns were sat on their slipcart. Their swelling hadn't set in so they were able to sit side by side. The elevator emptied and they rode in.

- Your Mom's lucky, the doc explained – She gets to look out on the natural world all day, every day. These women get just a half hour slot on the viewing platform. We point them at the sun. It's an attempt to tune their bodies to natural rhythms. You probably think you're locked in some artificial hellhole with crazed scientists and madwomen. The truth is we're all obsessed with the natural world. We're determined to restore it any way we can.

The slipcart built up speed as the doc worked the controls. The schedule had changed. Bender was no longer on a freeflowing tour of inspection. Glass cells lined the corridor, each with its bed and its young woman in white, but the speed blurred all the details.

- Where are you taking me?

- Outta here. Like you asked. What you want is what you get, Bender. You get to keep free will. The Council of Women decided it. A girl must be born of a man, and that man must be free. We need a girl born of a human who will then give birth to girls. It's the natural way for the species to survive. You're one unique chance of finding that natural way. We could keep you entertained in a fantasy cell. We could strap you to a table and bring you to term. We could set you free. Do you see what a choice we're giving you? Do you see just how free you are?

- Free this then, doc. Free this fucking embryo. Rip it out. Then ask me. Give me the free will then. See if I want another fucking implant.

Bender tried to stab his hand at his stomach. The constraints squeezed his arms back against his sides.

- I came in healthy. I'm going out sick. I've got a stomach parasite.

- It's a baby.

- It's a parasite. It's feeding off my guts. It's likely to kill me. You're a doctor. Cure me. Get rid of it.

- It's a life, Bender. An embryonic life. A baby girl. She exists. She's got a name in our files already, a code name. Her life is no less valuable than yours. No more, no less. I can't consent to killing either of you if both of you can live. You can both live, believe me.

- Take out my brain while you've got me. Stick it in an oxygen tent. Feed it and train it. That way you might get it to believe a word you say. Only then.

The slipcart reversed, leaving the boys behind in their cells. The corridor was like a chute of artificial light, shimmering blue with convex glass walls now opening on to workstations. The doc pressed a control as the cart
slowed. The constraints slipped from Bender's body and retracted into the seat.

- Are you ready to leave?

- Just go? You're going to let me go?

- It's your life, Bender. We've hijacked your body for a while, that's all.

The doc climbed down from the slipcart. The walls of this bit of corridor were made of steel. The doc set his sightwaves on the access panel and a partition slid back. Bender waited a while, then followed the doc through. The door slid closed behind him.

- Do you recognize it? the doc asked.

The floor was made of grey-blue cement. Flat panels of the same color formed the walls. Lights embedded in Perspex formed the ceiling.

- It's decontamination zone. Where I came in.

- You're almost right. Your entry level is one floor below. Most research at Cromozone is subterranean, in the stacks, for better climate control. That panel opposite opens onto the elevator shaft. It leads up to the front gate.

The doc handed Bender a backpack, made of the same material as the slinksuit.

- Its padding molds itself to your back. The straps expand and contract with the muscles in your shoulders and chest. It should free you to run with almost no constriction. The clothes you wore to get here are inside, washed and pressed. Your old shoes. And a chicken. A roast chicken. Fresh. Cloned and enhanced with natural grain. We had it slaughtered this morning. It's not roasted of course. You moved too fast, we didn't have time. But it's particled to recreate a four hour slow roast of a six-month old free range organic bird. Sealed in uniplastic so as not to leak. You feel bitter, Bender. You feel degraded. Sit down when you get out and taste that chicken under an open sky. You'll be the first person in more than a decade to eat chicken in the outside world. You'll trust us then. You'll know we're on your side. You'll know life's only getting better from now on. And here's something else I've brought to show you.

Doc Drake reached into a pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a creature. It was white with pink ears, a pointed snout, and a long tail. It ran up the doc's arm and perched on his shoulder. He reached up to take hold of it then pinned the creature on its back, its spine curved along the palm of his hand.

- Do you see that? Do you see its little dick here? Do you see its balls?

The doc's fingernail pressed against the creature's skin.

- It's a rat. Male. Cloned. It's got a name. E513. You see this?

The fingernail moved up over the round of the creature's belly.

- This male rat, Bender, is pregnant. A fetus is attached to its abdomen. The fetus is a baby female rat. Do you want to take it home with you, so Karen can practice her delivery techniques? The pregnancy has almost run its course. Birth is due whenever we decide. A little slice, a little leverage, a little snip, a little sewing, and E513 and daughter should both be doing fine.

Doc Drake lowered the rat to the floor and let it go. The creature found good grip on the cement. It scurried round the edges of the room.

- Do you see how healthy he is, Bender? This creature is male, heavily pregnant, and running as well as you're ever likely to do. You really have nothing to fear. Take time, think things through, talk to Karen. Everything will be fine. Believe me. Have you anything you'd like to ask before you go?

Ask a question, get told a lie. Bender had nothing to ask. He just folded his fingers into a fist as his hand shot forward, and thumped it into the doc's stomach. Air gusted from the doc's mouth as he slumped to the floor.

- You like that, doc? You like that sort of doctoring? You like having stuff stuck in your stomach? Make you feel good about life, does it? There's more like that, doc. We don't have to stop there. Believe me.

Bender kept back till the doc showed sign of recovery, till the man had drawn in fresh breath and risen to his feet. Then he skipped to within the doc's range, his fists raised, his belly exposed.

- Do you want me to hit you, kid? the doc asked – Thump you in the guts? Is that what you want?

The doc clenched his right hand and thrust a jab at Bender's stomach. Bender didn't flinch. The jab stopped just short. The doc opened his hand and reached up to squeeze hold of Bender's throat.

- Nice try, kid. You reckon a smart blow or two to your guts might end this pregnancy, break a rib or two but leave you breathing. You're lucky I'm a doctor. I'm trained not to kill, not to go for the killer blow. I wouldn't try the same trick on the streets though, Bender. Not if you want to walk away.

He pulled his grip away from Bender's throat. Scooping the rat from its circuit of the walls he slotted it back in his pocket.

- Run your hand along the far panel if you ever want to leave, Bender. The elevator will come and collect you. You'll find your imprint only works on exit. This door back into Cromozone is now blocked to you. I'll leave you now. There's no need to hurry. This room is yours for as long as you need it.

The doc swiped his hand across the wall. The door slid back to let him through then closed itself again. Bender was sealed in. The ceiling lights dimmed, a slow fade to black. A voice, deep enough to be male, soft enough to be female, sounded in the darkness.

- Air remaining in this chamber for single adult human consumption, two hours, seventeen minutes, ten seconds.

The voice was company of sorts.

- Air remaining in this chamber for single adult human consumption, two hours, sixteen minutes and fifty seconds.

Bender slid his feet across the floor. He felt his way around the walls with the flats of both hands.

- Air remaining in this chamber for single adult human consumption, two hours, sixteen minutes and ten seconds.

It seemed he wanted to live. Bender pattered the wall with his hands. A motor hummed. Light sliced in and beamed wide as a panel opened. Bender jumped inside.

Doors closed off the darkness and the elevator carried him back to earth.

1.02

I'm Bender. I've outgrown Steven's feet. His whiteflashes are tight on the instep. They weigh heavy like they're rooted. My eyes smart with tears for the kid. He loved these shoes. They made running like flying he thought.

He knew little. He was so young.

The black shoes are in my bag. They've got a name. I call em skypumps. The slinksuit's in the bag too. It folded up so small it slotted inside a shoe. I've put on Steven's old kit. The shorts cling tight and the shirt sags. If his old life fits as bad as his clothes I'll run straight out of it.

I've got a mantra going. It's a running mantra. One syllable for take-off, one for landing.

Ben-der, Ben-der.

Drumming the new name home.

Ben-der, Ben-der.

Teensquad named me. Now I've grown into the name.

Ben-der, Ben-der.

I'll laugh when I see teensquad. Laugh inside. They'll shout hi and think they know me. They'll think I'm the Steven they call Bender. They're wrong. I'm not. I'm just Bender. Something new.

Ben-der, Ben-der.

Malik'll get it first. I won't explain. I'll just be my new self and wait. He'll cock his head to the side and stare at me. I'll stare back and watch for that click in his eyes as it registers. Bender's shifted, he'll see. Then he'll smile. He'll grin. Game on. He'll start adjusting till he's got where I'm at, till we're back in step. That's how we stay ahead. We keep pace with each other.

Maybe we'll swap kits. I'll wear his. He can try out the slinksuit. And the skypumps. It'll be fun to see him moving in those. Fun to keep up.

Dirt's drifted across the road but the wind's dead. I turn my head and there's a dustflurry where I've been. My footprints smudge the ground. I look ahead and town's hidden inside a brown cloud, like a bomb's just taken it out.

If only.

 

I stop. Kick off my shoes, put aside my bag, lay on the earth on the side of the road and face the sky.

Look into the sun and you burn out your eyes. That's what they say. It's a story. A lie. No-one's done it coz everyone believes it. Who'd be so stupid as to stare at the sun and find out? They tell us that crap so we'll look at the ground. They don't want us to look at the sun too long.

You don't go blind if you stare at the sun. You see what they don't want you to find.

That's my theory. I'm going to try it out.

What's to lose?

 

- Hey, it's Bender.

I recognize the voice. It's Soo. He's multi-colored and round, like a sunspot.

- That you, Soo?

- You OK Bender? What you doing on the ground?

The world's gone dark grey.

- Get out the way, Soo. I'm nearly there. I've been working in from the edge. I'm about to see through the sun.

Soo laughs. He thinks I've cracked a joke.

- You been forcefeeding, Soo? You got so fat you block out the sun now?

Others laugh. About four of em. Nervous laughs. They're glad to find me well. They think they've found me. They think they've found me well. They're not sure.

- I've lost it, Soo says - My Mom tells me I've lost weight.

- Your Mom's a liar, I tell him. Teensquad's got a lot to learn. Everybody lies. That's a lot to learn – Don't go trusting your Mom, Soo. You even sure she is your Mom? Were you conscious when you were born or were you like the rest of us, zapped out of it?

- Where have you been, Bender? a new voice asks. It sounds like Runt. I stand up and stare. He's another sunspot but shorter than Soo. Not so round as Soo. As I stare at him his violet edges bleach away and he turns grey. My sight's coming back. It's Runt.

- In the woods. Working out. I've learned a lot. We've got a lot to do. We've got to be fit. See that?

I pull up my shirt to show my stomach.

- Hard as rock. You've not lost weight, Soo. You're the same fat fuck as ever. Three weeks starving in the woods, running assault courses till you drop, you'll never get near a stomach like this. You know why? You see that?

I point out the pinprick white scar. Soo bends to take a closer look. It takes a while. One bend is a whole excursion when you're as fat as Soo.

- I got it in Cromozone. It's a silicone implant. A new formulation. It spreads evenly around the stomach lining and hardens. Cromozone's designing a new breed of warrior male. This silicone's as tough as armor plating. It blunts knives. It reflects lasers. I've got the hardest, toughest stomach in the known world.

- It doesn't show, Soo says – You're the same skinny freak as ran away.

Good. I'm getting to him.

- Try me. Throw one punch. Right on the scar. See for yourself.

- We've come to find you, Runt explains – Not punch you. We got worried. Your brother Paul hacked into Cromozone for us. He found you'd been released. We split up to come and find you.

- You're just in time. This silicone strengthens on impact. It needs a good blow to ensure an even spread across the tissues. Otherwise it settles into pockets. Pockets aren't dangerous, they just look odd. I don't want to look odd. Do us a favor would you Runt? Thump me in the guts. It's better you do it than Soo. You're wiry. You've got muscle. Fat fuck Soo here's turned to flab. That right, Soo? Your muscles turned to sponge?

Soo's the strongest of all but placid. It takes a lot to stir him. I'm almost there. He lifts his right fist to his mouth, spits on his knuckles, then rubs the spit in with his left hand.

- Where you want it? he asks.

- You sure you're up to it? You've come a long way from town. Not fast I know, you never run fast, well fast for a fat fuck but not real fast and it's a long way for you. This stomach needs one real blow, as powerful as a man can make it, not a fat fuck's soft dab.

- Where you want it?

I strip off my shirt and fling it to the side.

- Right on the scar. That's best. It's a tiny scar though. Are your eyes good enough to see it, fat fuck? Do you want me to mark it for you with a pen?

- You ready?

- So ready I'm bored.

I open my arms wide, slouch a little, and look down. My belly's small and soft. I'm fond of it. It doesn't deserve any of this. I watch Soo's fist drive into its flesh. He uses a twist punch he learned from karate. He's good. A fist driven like that can push right through a man. It can go in through the front and out through the back, shards of spine caught between its fingers.

That's what they say. I never believed em. Now I wonder if they're right.

I can't turn to see. The world's gone white but flashed with red. I've stopped breathing.

 

Their silicone's crap, Soo's saying – His stomach's as soft as, as soft as …

Soo's not at his best with words.

- As soft as Mom's bum.

- You've near killed him, Runt says.

Maybe he has. My stomach's done for sure. Parasites get no choice, they suck up life wherever they land, but if I was a parasite with choice I wouldn't leech on to this stomach. This stomach doesn't want it. Any parasite in there's just been thumped to death.

- You heard him, Soo says. He's upset – He said to hit him as hard as I could.

They all talk, like they're arguing, then they all go quiet at once.

- What's that? Runt asks.

It seems I've been speaking. I'm trying for words but I don't know what's coming out my mouth. Maybe just blood and saliva.

- Don't believe a word, is what I'm telling em – All words are lies.

If those are my dying words then that's OK. I'll never think of better ones.

 

You learn things from living longer. Here's something new I've learned. When you deliver a death-defying blow to someone's guts, you don't make em better by draping em over your shoulder and trying to jog along an asphalt road.

I'm a runner who can't even walk. Can't even stand. Can't even sit up. Soo kneels down and the others lift me into place. My head's cushioned against Soo's chest and my feet bounce against his back. Fat and muscle pad his shoulders but it makes no difference. Soo takes five steps, the movement jars up from the road and through his shoulder, thumps into my stomach, and I pass out.

 

I don't get heaven. Life ends, that's heaven enough. Another acceptable version of heaven is this. It's not a spectacular version, but it's an improvement on how life is. You wake up, day's come, and a nightmare's over. Heaven is waking up and leaving a nightmare behind. You look around and things are restored to how they used to be.

I wake up and think that I'm Steven. That's not the heaven part, that's just a mistake. Before I get it right though I look around and think I recognize Steven's garden. Years ago you could walk in that garden without treading grass to dust. Even as baked dirt it wasn't so bad. No weeds came up. You could rake the ground and have it all look neat and hopeful, as though seeds could spring life any moment.

This garden's got that baked earth look. It's the way Steven's garden looked before his Dad tore it apart. It's how a garden of just the same size and shape would look without trenches and traps and pits and platforms and barbed wire. This garden's not a crazed assault course. It's dead and quiet, the way nature means it to be. It's a peaceful place to lie.

I let my vision blur then close my eyes.

- You OK Bender?

It's Malik. I open my eyes to match the face to his voice. His head's close. His brown eyes stare into mine.

- What you do that for, Bender? Why did you make Soo hit you?

I work to bring Malik into focus. The results are mixed. I get to see him more clearly and maybe smile a moment. Pain then shoots up along that extra spurt of consciousness and smashes the smile from my face. It's like a fire that starts in some black cauldron around my balls then flames up through my guts and my chest and my throat. I guess I howled.

- What's that? What have you got down there? What are you doing to him?

For a moment I think it's Dad. I'm still thinking like Steven, like I had a Dad. I don't believe in hell. Who needs hell when you've already got life? Invent hell though and this makes a neat package, fire on the inside and the voice of Steven's Dad burning its way in from the outside world.

- Is that Steven? When did he get back? He's been in that house all along, is that it? Now you've brought him outdoors to bugger him in the open air. Have your way with him in front of his own Dad's eyes. It's sick. You make me sick.

I turn my head toward the sound of Steven's Dad's throat as it vomits words from his system. My head is angled toward the sky. Steven's Dad appears in view, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks down from his platform. Looks down across the wall between his own garden and where I lie. I'm next door, not in Steven's garden. The madhouse of his Dad's traps and trenches still exists.

- You disgust me, Steven, he says.

Sunlight catches spittle from his mouth and makes it sparkle in the air as it rains down.

– Get up. Get some clothes on. Get back inside the house. I'll have to lock you up with Karen. Keep armed guard over the pair of you.

Here's another thing I've learned from living longer. Parents force kids into total shutdown. I feel it coming on. It's like a whistle that gets so high it's ultrasonic, the pressure builds up and gets tighter and tighter then in a flash it's gone. Your body's left for your parents to scream at but you're not there, you're long gone. I've been in and out of consciousness so much it's getting easy. Here I go. Pain easing, dream of whiteness spreading wide.

Then Bender kicks in - That fuckhead's no Dad of yours, he reminds me - You're me now. You're Bender.

Ex-Dad's talking again. His voice comes down from the platform. Now I get the difference. In Steven that voice triggered a slug of resignation. It jolts Bender with anger. My eyes open. I'm alert. The fire's in my body and my throat's burned out. The pain's reduced to a slab that thumps around my heart. Life's come back as a heartache. I guess I'm not due to die after all.

- V78we9t7, I say.

- Shhh, Malik says – You're not making sense. Cool down. Stay easy.

Seems I must regroup my senses if I'm going to get to tell more lies.

- This is how we found him, Malik says. He's talking louder, speaking to the man above the fence.

- Naked?

- With his shorts on. Like he is now. The rest of his things were in this funny black sack. We split up and took separate roads north, looking for him. Soo's group found him, by the side of the road. He's been attacked.

- He's sick?

- He took a blow to the stomach, we think.

- That what he says? Get up, Steven. Get up at once. Don't be such a wuzz. A punch in the stomach never killed anyone.

- Houdini, Furbo says – Harry Houdini, the escapologist. He died of a punch to the stomach. I read about it. He was showing off. Asked his assistant to punch him but the blow came before he was ready, before he had tensed his muscles. It ruptured his insides. He died soon after.

- I'll give him something to die for if he doesn't get up this minute. Come on Steven. On your feet.

- He needs medical attention, Malik says.

- Then we'll call Statesquad. They can take him in and examine in. Find out just what you've done.

- He's just been released from Cromozone, Malik reminds him – You know that. Paul found that out. Whatever's happened to him happened there. They dumped him on the side of the road. We can't send him back into that.