My Inner Werewolf Chapters 44-50

Chapter Forty-Four

The Ghost

 I went into work the next morning apparently alone.  The guards watching saw no one walk to the car with me, no one sit next to me.  The guards in the car followed while others stayed behind, watching for Phyllis. 

Sitting beside me, invisible, Phyllis giggled. 

“This is so much better than being a ghost in real life!  I mean, not a ghost, but—” 

“I know what you mean.  You’re really enjoying this.” 

“Oh yeah!” 

We drove downtown and parked underneath The Academy.  I apparently went up alone in the elevator.  In my lab, I phoned Pinetree. 

“What is it?” she asked brusquely.  “Phyllis?” 

“Yeah.  I want to come in and see you.” 

“…mind if I call in Dr. Orwell?” 

“Tell her to bring a robe.” 

“Gotcha.”

Ten minutes later I was in Pinetree’s office.  She stood by her desk.  Dr. Orwell stood to one side, holding a white robe. 

“Where is she?” Pinetree asked immediately, visibly controlling her stress. 

Phyllis appeared before them, shedding invisibility for a ghost appearance.  As a ghost, she decided to look like a wraith, menacing, all floating white wisps and angry haunted face with hollow dark eyes.  “Robe,” the wraith said. 

Dr. Orwell stepped forward and handed me the robe.  Phyllis transformed, going from hideous wraith to hardening form to herself, standing naked.  I handed her the robe and she quickly slipped it on. 

“Thanks,” she told me.  “I don’t like exposing myself.” 

“So you control it?” Pinetree asked, relaxing. 

“Oh totally.” 

“And how do you feel?” Orwell asked. 

“Right now?  Down to earth.  Before, I floated.” 

We all sat, circling the chairs so the four of us faced each other.

There was an awkward pause. 

“You took off,” Pinetree told her.  “Disappeared on me.  I have operations to run.” 

“Sorry but not sorry, General,” Phyllis replied.  “For the first time in many years, I felt free.  I could just float off.  So I did.  I felt no responsibilities, no connection to anything but myself.” 

“And?” Orwell asked, leaning forward.

“And I felt hollow,” Phyllis told her.  “I think maybe that was why I transformed into a ghost, something unreal and hollow inside.  I’ve been that way for years, being other people, obeying orders.  Being a hollow tool.” 

Pinetree looked steadily at her.  “I understand.  I think I do.  I’m sure you will understand when I ask, how are you about obeying orders now?  Will you still work for me?  Or do you want to drift off into the ozone?”  Pinetree’s look was hard. 

Phyllis returned the look.  “Got no idea, boss.  Depends for starts on whether the orders are reasonable.  I think I should choose.”  She saw Pinetree’s look.  “Don’t worry.  I’m not flying off.  I need to stay here, be observed.  Mike will keep an eye on me.  I know I can’t trust myself, not yet, not until I understand what’s going on.  Or, understand it better.” 

I leaned forward.  “So it may help with your anger?  Or whatever?”    

“You mean, is it a cure for whatever ails me?”  She smiled.  “I was more frustrated than angry.  I was angry at being cold.  At not caring.  At feeling without personality.”

“So that’s what you’re thinking about?” Dr. Orwell asked.  “Not about, say, your powers?” 

Phyllis actually giggled.  “Who cares about powers?  You don’t have to, when you have them.”  She stood.  “I need time to settle in.  Mike will know where I am, General, so call off the dogs.  You’ll be kept up to date.”  And Phyllis abruptly vanished, the robe falling to the floor.  She was gone.  Through the wall.  Or perhaps still standing in the room, watching us. 

We all looked at the robe on the floor. 

“I need her,” Pinetree muttered. 

“She laughed,” Dr. Orwell said.  “I’ve never seen her laugh.” 

Pinetree went to her desk and poured herself a cup of tea.  “The question, doctor, is whether she will work for us.  She could be invaluable, as she currently is.” 

I looked at Pinetree.  I waited.  She noticed.  I waited. 

“Fine,” she said.  “Sit.”  I sat. 

I waited, as she considered. 

“Mike, I and the other base commanders have been talking for over two months about the pressure.  You know about it.  Outside pressure to produce a certain type of soldier.  Enough pressure to make us feel very uncomfortable.  We didn’t know where it came from or its purpose.  I was…unhappy.” 

I nodded, my role to listen and be informed.  She was reluctantly opening a door.  Secrets were her business. 

“That pressure increased dramatically with your successful transformation.  They had what they wanted, or something close.” 

“They?” 

She shook her head.  “Some group or groups outside the government.  We’re still trying to find out.  Whoever they are, they are powerful.”  She paused.  “I brought in Dr. Orwell early.  You might say she’s our moral conscience.”  Orwell shrugged modestly.  “But she’s also practical.”

“Morality is practical,” Dr. Orwell said. 

“So where do we go from here?” I asked. 

“No idea,” Pinetree told me.  “But something has to be done.  Now.  The situation currently is too stable.  For the other side.  Time to rock the boat.” 

“It would be dangerous to do that,” Orwell told her. 

“It’s dangerous right now,” Pinetree replied. 

Do what? 

Neither was prepared to confide that much in me.  Perhaps I was not there yet.  Perhaps they did not quite know themselves. 

“Don’t worry,” Pinetree said, looking at me.  “You’ll know soon enough.”    

I left them talking.  I chatted with staff in the hallways and cafeteria.  The researchers especially were thrilled.  Phyllis’ transformation had been a success, as far as they were concerned.  Confidence in their work and using it on test subjects was returning, with a vengeance—if it had ever been gone. 

Entering my lab, I saw my assistant.  She was packing. 

“You’re fired,” I told her.

“Transferred and on probation,” she replied.  “Orders from Pinetree.  I’ll be working with Armstrong.” 

“How can you still work here, given how you betrayed Phyllis and me?”  I asked, feeling some anger.

She looked at me briefly.  “Pinetree told me I’m useful.”  And she took her packed bag and left. 

Angry, I phoned Pinetree.  “There’s a reason,” she said.  Great.  Great to know there was a reason. 

Frustrated, I phoned Madeline and Melanie and asked them to meet me at home after work.  I spent the next hours killing time, waiting for Phyllis to appear through a wall.  Nothing.  But it felt as if she was very close as soon as I left The Academy.  The feeling came to me during the drive home. 

I parked, nodded to the two guards who’d followed me and walked into my house.  There were no reporters.  Inside, I dropped my case in the hallway and walked into the kitchen and made some more coffee.  I got a robe from the bathroom and draped it over a kitchen chair.  I looked at my watch.

I was halfway through the first cup when there was a knock on the front door.  I took the robe with me.  When I opened the door, Madeline and Melanie stood there. 

“Hey dad.  Mom gave me a lift,” Mel said, walking in.  “She filled me in.” 

“Do you know anything about Phyllis?” Madeline asked before even stepping inside. 

“Yep.  Come in.”  She entered and I closed the door.  “I asked you both here because I know you care about her.  First, she’s all right.  At least, I think so.  So far.”  They just looked at me. 

“Mom said she transformed and disappeared.  No one knows where she is.” 

“I was with her last night.  My guess is, she’s with us right now.  I can feel her.”  I held out the robe. 

Next to me, Phyllis materialized.  She went from invisible to normal human, quickly taking the robe and pulling it on.  She ran a hand through her hair, straightening it, smiling. 

“Hi, girls.” 

They hugged.  Madeline was crying. 

We sat in the living room, sipping coffee.  I opened a box of cookies, I thought there should be dainties.  Only Phyllis ate the cookies. 

“What the hell?” Madeline finally said.  “So you’re okay?  You don’t feel anything weird or horrible?” 

“The opposite, Matsy,” she told her.  “It’s freedom.  Think of it.  No body.  No plumbing.  No guck leaking down below.  No leering.  Zero pressure.  It feels wonderful.  I feel free.”   

“Oh,” Madeline replied.  She settled back, thinking.

“How long can you do it?” Mel asked.  “Without a body, I mean?” 

“No idea.  I think I should keep it short.  Feels too good.” 

Madeline stroked her forehead.  “Your transforming has helped you?” 

“So far.  The days ahead will show if I’m walking down the garden path.  This could be leading me somewhere I don’t know yet.  You can appreciate, it’s all kinda new.” 

“Tell me more about feeling free you have no body,” Mel asked.

The three talked for a long time, while I mostly sat and watched and enjoyed how well they got along.  Madeline and Mel left reassured, especially Madeline.  Mel was fascinated by the biology end. 

Phyllis and I cleaned up, then went upstairs, to the bedroom. 

We did not stop to brush our teeth. 

She slipped off her robe, I took off my clothing. 

“There’s only one way to do this tonight,” she told me, settling onto the bed.  “I’m the invisible woman.”  And she disappeared.  The depression on the sheets remained. 

“And I’m Michael J. Fox.  Teen Wolf.”  I transformed into my anger form but I felt only lust or was it love?  When we had sex it was not sex.  It was more than sex.  It was like we were together. 

Werewolf and ghost.

Chapter Forty-Five

Ticking

The next morning, after breakfast, Phyllis said she was taking off.  “Seems to me the key is who’s behind the pressure.  Who is the man with the thick neck?  I checked with Pinetree while you were in the shower.” 

“How long?” 

She shrugged.  “Couple of days maybe?  Used to take weeks but not now.”  And she smiled and disappeared. 

As I drove in, I thought about how much more Phyllis was enjoying transforming than me.  I enjoyed having the power and strength and claws.  She enjoyed having no body. 

Was this a gender thing? 

When I got into work, I found an email from Pinetree which, after yesterday’s meeting, I had half expected: 

Given the apparent success of the most recent use of the serum, existing safety protocols are further relaxed.  I will leave it to the researchers to determine the viability of their test subjects.  Work should continue immediately, with results expected promptly.

This was what she was talking about yesterday, that the base was too stable.  She intended to shake things up.  Maybe make someone hit a panic button.  Allow her to find out what was happening and how to stop it. 

That was all important, sure. 

But I was starting to think the real problem was closer to home.  I had treated my colleagues more as pawns, even when caring about them.  But what did I know about them?  What drove them? 

Would I learn more about myself?  My end goal was always a cure.  To a degree, it was working.  I should be furious with my colleagues for being idiots.  Today, furious was frustrated. 

I wished this was as easy as research work, based on facts and figures.  Researching what made people tick was tougher.  It was difficult knowing where to even start. 

I decided to start with Armstrong.  He was a ringleader.  He had transformed disastrously.  Why was he still in the game? 

I found Armstrong in his lab, sitting with Mark and their two assistants, including my former one.  He was as tall and broad shouldered as ever.  Mark was a thin man.  Their two assistants were both women in their thirties.  They were chatting, cups of coffee or tea half drunk, some half-eaten Danishes on a plate between them. 

They looked up as I entered. 

“Hey Mike, always good to see you,” Armstrong said, voice strong, sounding welcoming.  I could see from the expressions on the others’ faces how welcome I was.  They all forced smiles.

“Hard at work?” I asked, sitting down, joining them. 

“We’re excited,” Armstrong replied.  “It’s all green light.  You?”

“Phyllis seems all right.” 

“So we’ve been told.” 

“If it’s okay, I’d like to talk with you all, just a little bit.”  They looked and waited.  “You know me and the work I’ve done.  You do the same work.  I know why I got into this.  My anger.  You’ve all seen it.” 

“True enough.  I wrote the letter,” Armstrong said, slowly. 

“I know why I do this work.  Why do you, Bill?  …It is Bill, isn’t it?” 

Armstrong chuckled.  “On top of it as always, eh Mike?” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it.  I don’t care,” he told me, looking at me directly.  “Why am I here?  Because this type of research is unique.  It fits my unique talents, you see.” 

“If you ask,” Mark added, “I’m in it because if it works, what I’d get would be amazing.” 

We chatted.  They were both involved in such science as children.  They felt it was natural to them and, more important, the only subject they were interested in.  They followed one career path, building their expertise step by step.  They devoured whatever they could on the subject.  That was why they were on top of their field. 

But willing to risk death by trying it on themselves?  Both had.  Was it the lure of achievement combined with personal glory?  There had to be more.  Both men had experimented on themselves.  Had they denied the risks or accepted them? 

After the chatting well dried up, I thanked them, wished them the best, and then asked to speak with my former assistant privately.  She and I walked out of the lab and stood awkwardly in the hallway. 

“I’m trying to think things through,” I told her.  “I don’t know how to put this, except directly.  You betrayed me.  You betrayed Phyllis.  You knew the serum I prepared was fruit juice.  You substituted the real thing.”

She looked at me directly.  “Yes.  I did.  I told Armstrong what you were planning.  He had a serum ready to go.  He described you as a roadblock.  Or pothole.  He was right.” 

“What about the ethics?”

“What about the ethics of spending all this public money and not doing something?” she shot back.  “This work is important.  And my career is important.  Armstrong promised he would make he his new assistant.  That I would get credit for breakthroughs.” 

“And it didn’t hurt that you hate me.”

She laughed.  “It sure helped.” 

“Anything else you want to tell me?” 

“You’re an arrogant dick,” she snapped.  “You’re willing drag all of us down, to stop any other successes.  This is all about you, not morality.”  And she stomped back into Armstrong’s lab. 

I spent the rest of the day in similar chats with my colleagues.  Most were not as extreme as Armstrong, but they all were dedicated to the work.  They wanted their careers to advance but more important to most, they wanted to help their country. 

Some were in denial.  They saw the work as heroic, with understandable failures at first.  Others knew they were in the business of creating monsters, accepting their work with relish.  I was not surprised—it was a secret selective research base, and only the best were recruited.  It was a workplace culture, similar to an office, except for what it produced. 

Some workplace cultures were imposed.  In our situation, it was self-created, encouraged by management.  How do you stop what comes from within?  Was that not my own problem?  How do you change what is in your heart? 

I asked Madeline.  She looked lost.  She wanted the work to stop and had no idea how.

Yes, it felt like a lotta work. 

And almost entirely impossible. 

I saw one tiny ray of sunlight, through the cracks. 

Towards the end of the day, I chatted briefly with Pinetree.  She agreed with my assessment of staff and the situation.  The only solution, she and Dr. Orwell agreed, along with me, was to confront the staff with their own work.  That meant a whole lot of upcoming transformations. 

Pinetree was already beefing up security staff. 

At the end of the day, Madeline and Mel came to a restaurant, at my request.  I filled them in on my day, especially Mel.  Madeline already knew. 

“Your performance art was great,” I told Mel.  “It unnerved them.  Showed them what they were doing.  But it only seems to have worked in the moment.  What can make it permanent?”

Mel thought.  “Drugs?  Dope them up?” 

Madeline thought more.  “Your assistant shows one way.  Alter the serums.  Deliver what they don’t expect.” 

I pondered also, then smiled, looking at them.  “How about both?”

Chapter Forty-Six

Legacy Of The Krell

Bubbling was the best way to describe how most of the staff felt.  Bubbling not like volcanic lava destroying everything in its path but like very refreshing sparkling water.  They were having their cake and eating it also.  They were heading towards indigestion. 

The new green light had a profound impact.  Oswald and I transformed and prowled the halls, checking on staff.  This time, we impressed no one. 

They said hello, a few slapped me on the ass.   I growled.  They laughed.  It was not clear if it was denial or being off in space.  They were giddy with unfettered access to experimentation and especially new trials.   Inhibitions were removed, restrictions ether.  They had actually evolved into a family, all sharing and helping and supportive.  Throbbing with life, excitement and promise. 

What could I do with this bunch of misguided fools? 

Was that too harsh?  Have you been reading this? 

Phyllis was still gone.  Madeline and I were aghast.  Mel had no idea how to help.  Pinetree stayed in her office, grim.  Extra security prowled the halls.  The stores on either side of The Academy were suddenly vacated.  Then the entire mall, because there was a ‘bacterial infection.’  The security guards spread out to the mall itself. 

I had no one at home and almost no one at work.  Yet I did not feel alone.  There was Madeline and Mel and Pinetree and Orwell.  We felt like a family, and a much better one.  Although we never ate together or talked about much other than work.  Like some families. 

I felt reassured and full of hurt.  The ray of light through the cracks of darkness?  That some of them would wake up. 

What alarm clock would do that? 

That night, instead of moping alone in the house, I shed my clothing and transformed, then went into the back yard and jumped the fence.  I waved at the guards.  They followed me as I began to run, an easy loping that brought joy to my muscles.  We ran for an hour.  One fell behind but the woman kept up to the end. 

“How are you?” I growled, feeling fine.

“I think I’m gonna puke.” 

I invited her back into the house, awkwardly took a glass from the cupboard in one claw and the bottle of brandy next to it with the other.  I poured her a shot, then went upstairs, transformed, pulled on a robe and returned to her. 

“Better?” I asked.

“That was a burn,” she replied.  “Feeling tense?  That was a lot.” 

“Yeah.  Work’s gone haywire.” 

“Tell me about it.  We’re all on overtime.” 

“Why?”

She shook her head, looked at the bottle but did not pour another drink.  “Something big is coming.  Doesn’t feel good.  I should go.” 

I thanked her, apologized for being part of her work, and watched her leave. 

Then I was alone again.  And sweaty. 

The shower was long and steamy.  I felt cleaner but not cleaner. 

I could return to The Academy tonight.  When no one was there.  Everyone’s notes were now available.  I could subtly change them so the serums would be a disaster. 

I could not do that. 

Could not do it to the test subjects, nor did I want to deliberately put anyone under a threat.  It was totally wrong.  So that idea was out.  I could also subtly alter the new serums to be better.  But that would make it worse.  Success from tragedy will always be a mistake. 

So, I could not screw it up or make it better.  Nor could I allow it to remain as it was.  Nor could I ignore I was their role model.  Nor could I ignore they mostly hated me, if not disliked me.  I felt responsible.  My success had inflamed them all. 

I transformed again and looked in the full-length mirror in the bedroom.  Instead of seeing power, I saw ugly.  Maybe power is ugly, no matter how used or for what glorious purpose. 

Chapter Forty-Seven

Mac and Cheese

After a tip from Dr. Orwell, I dropped in on Armstrong.  He and his new assistant were interviewing their new test subject. 

“Hey, Mike,” he said with a smile as I entered.  “This is, uh—”

“Boris Karloff,” the man sitting next to him replied.  “It’s a name people usually remember.”  He stood and extended his hand.  I shook it and sat with them. 

“Right,” Armstrong said.  “Boris here is our new test subject.  It’s our first meeting.  I’m giving him my new serum tomorrow morning.” 

“Does he know what he’s getting into?” I asked. 

“Of course.” 

I stood and loosened my clothing and transformed.  I stood, towering over them, muscles rippling.  I looked at Boris and growled. 

“That is so cool!” he blurted out.  “Just like you told me!” 

Armstrong smiled.  “So you are prepared for anything?” 

“Oh yeah!”

“You realize that, if you transform, we cannot predict into exactly what?” 

“You said we have to see what happens,” Boris replied. 

“Yes.”

“But it’ll be good.” 

“We certainly believe so,” Armstrong told him.  “Everything new carries risks.” 

“Okay, then I’m all ready,” Boris replied. 

I transformed back and put my clothing back on.  I didn’t bother with my socks.  “Boris,” I said to him, “I do not think you are really prepared for what could happen.” 

Armstrong smiled.  “You’ll have to forgive Mike, he’s something of a competitor.  Wants the spotlight to himself.” 

“True,” my former assistant added with a smirk. 

I took Armstrong outside, away from the others.  “You haven’t really prepared him at all.  This is arrogant.  Remember last time.” 

“You helped me recover and rethink last time,” Armstrong replied.  “Right now I think you are just jealous.  Shows all over you.”  And he turned and went back into his lab, leaving me standing in the hallway. 

I approached five other key researchers before lunch.  Every conversation was similar—I was jealous, they were courageous—not selfish—in continuing their work.  Test subjects were volunteers.  And there was always antidotes, even though they might be possible to deliver.  But for them, any end result was part of the science. 

I sat glumly in the cafeteria, eating its macaroni and cheese.  It delivered great taste but was inherently unhealthy.  Mac and cheese was the cafeteria’s most popular dish. 

Tomorrow was shaping up to be a day I should call in sick.  If I ate too much of the mac and cheese, I probably would be. 

I spent the afternoon meeting with the rest of the researchers.  A few were going deliberately slow, being extra cautious.  A few more were uncertain on how to proceed. 

At the afternoon’s end, I chatted with Madeline in her lab.  She had also canvassed our colleagues.  Some thought her also jealous, guarding her own success, while others dismissed her as so cautious it was amazing she had created anything. 

“There’s no way out of it but letting them see themselves, tomorrow.”

“Will they?” I asked.  “Mistakes will be dismissed.  That green light blinds them.   They’ll create a slew of monsters.” 

“Let them.” 

“The monsters will overrun us.  Overrun the mall.” 

“Let them.  Then it won’t be a secret any longer.  Either way is a win, Mike.” 

She had accepted Pinetree and Orwell’s need to subvert the entire base.  When I asked, she said she had spoken with them.  The plan?  There was no plan, except to unleash. 

This felt like a desperate way to go.  I drove home, sat alone in my house.  I phoned Mel.  When I told her, she asked if it could be video’d.  She also asked if I’d heard from Phyllis, a lot of her friends wanted to learn more about body freedom. 

I slept poorly.  One dream was of the Krell.  Another was of King Kong tromping through New York.  A third was me and King Kong tromping the streets.    

Pinetree called Madeline and myself into her office at the end of the day.  “You two deserve a head’s up,” she said, looking a bit weary.  We waited.  “It’s about tomorrow.”  We waited.  “I’ve set up the tests scheduled for tomorrow in a certain way.” 

“Certain way?” Madeline asked. 

“Let’s say, for security reasons,” Pinetree replied. 

“Security reasons?” I asked, allowing myself to be skeptical. 

“No,” she told me.  “Not really.  I’ve set it up in line with what Dr. Orwell and I and a few others think should be done.  We are far ahead of the other bases, being the largest.  They are looking to us for guidance.  At least, their commanders are.”  She paused again, taking a breath.  Being this direct appeared to be difficult for her. 

“When you both walk in tomorrow, into the cafeteria, you will see test cages set up.  All we have.  About ten.” 

I sat up.  “You’re going to let the researchers do all their tests at once?  In the cafeteria?”

“It’s the largest room,” she replied. 

“Ten transformations at the same time?” Madeline asked, mouth open.  “It will be chaos.” 

Pinetree looked at her.  “Yes.  Phyllis has been helpful, with intelligence.  She will be here, tomorrow.”

“So that’s why thew extra security and empty mall?  You’re creating chaos?” I asked, starting to feel numb.  The possibilities were almost all dreadful. 

“Out of chaos comes stability,” she replied, “once the chaos dies.” 

“But—” I started.

“I’ve told you enough.” 

Chapter Forty-Eight

Wait For It

I went home alone, was alone there, and stayed there.  It was a long night and I woke tired, stressed at what might happen today.  What would happen.  I dressed in the clothing I felt most disposable. 

I was gritting my teeth on the drive in, wondering what on earth I could do to prevent disaster.  Did I even want to prevent disaster?  Was not disaster the swiftest way to end the base and its work? 

Unless, of course, many of the transformations were successful—and controllable.  Then it could just as swiftly fall apart.  I was starting to wish I had brought more coffee when I felt a presence in the car, light at first, then settling in beside me. 

“Hey kid,” I heard Phyllis’ voice.  “Don’t look at me.  Look straight head.  The guards behind us are watching.  For now, I need to stay out of sight.” 

“Glad to not see you,” I said, trying to concentrate on the road.  “Pinetree said you’d be here today.” 

“Yeah.  She’s called in one of those powerful guys.  The one with the thick neck.  He’s been hard to find.  If he shows, I can follow him.” 

“Gotcha.”  I realized the steering wheel was wet.  My hands were sweating.  “Missed you.  How are you doing?” 

“I’ve spent most of my time like this.  I’ve had to be careful.  After a while, I begin to feel detached.  Like none of this is important.” 

“It is important.” 

“I keep telling myself.” 

We chatted until we entered the mall parking lot.  The transformation was impacting her, maybe more than she realized.  I had even more to worry about. 

Chapter Forty-Nine

Gong Show

The parking lot was half full—a lot of staff had stayed away.  Instead of the normal receptionist, several armed guards stood by the front doors.  The mall itself was deserted.  Given it was built for crowds, the silence was unnatural.  Everything today felt unnatural.  Wrong. 

I sought out Pinetree and found her in her office, talking with Dr. Orwell.  Standing next to them was the fellow with the thick neck and two of his pals.  I sensed Phyllis move away from me, towards him.  Pinetree had told her he would be here, allowing her to target and follow him, to discover his secrets.

“Good morning,” Pinetree said to me.  “You know everyone here.”  She looked at her watch.  “Five minutes.  Staff are entering the cafeteria now.” 

“Always good to see you again, Mike,” thick neck told me. 

“Ditto.  Today should be…something else, eh?  Ten at once?”

He smiled.  “General Pinetree is putting on quite a show.  Getting so many test subjects injected will certainly speed your work here.  At least, we hope so.  We’re quite confident.”  He brushed at his neck, feeling something flick at it.  Phyllis.  Thick neck looked as if he needed success.  Worried. 

Pinetree looked at me and allowed herself a hidden smile. 

I looked at the man.  “If you don’t mind.  You know who I am.” 

He smiled.  “And myself?”  His smile grew stiff as he looked carefully at me.  “You could say I’m an investor.”

“Investor?”

“In this country.”  His smile froze. 

I thought of saying something but it sarcasm would not have gone down well. 

“Time’s up,” Pinetree said, breaking the silence up.  “Let’s go.” 

She led us out of her office and down the hallway and into the cafeteria.  Madeline was already there, standing at the open double doors.  I let the others go ahead.  Madeline was deeply worried.  I wanted to take her hand but that was out of bounds. 

“You’re upset,” I said instead. 

“I’m frightened,” she replied.  “This can go wrong in so many ways.” 

“If it does, you’ll get out.  Right?” 

“First out the door,” she said. 

She took a seat while I went to lean against a wall, between two guards. 

There were about twenty armed guards around the walls, plus two each for every cage—ten cages had been placed by the steam trays, in the front of the room, sturdy seats inside.  Ten researchers stood by the cages, along with their assistants.  Armstrong, tall and handsome, stood out from the rest.  Actually, he stood out because he was a few steps forward, facing the seats. 

The cafeteria had been cleared of tables, replaced by rows of folding chairs facing the cages–seating for an audience.  Only a third of the seats were taken.  Of the staff who’d turned up, most looked ready to flee. 

I was glad I had chosen disposable clothing. 

Pinetree walked up to Armstrong.  She motioned to the largely empty seats.  “No one else?” 

“Must be another covid outbreak.”  Armstrong smiled.  “I’m sure more of my colleagues wanted to be here.  I asked around.  There was some, well, reluctance.  So yes, this is it.  No more are coming.  Might as well launch, eh?” 

Pinetree nodded and went to sit in the front row.  The thick necked fellow and his two friends sat next to her.  Dr. Orwell stood by the entrance, nervous.  The cafeteria’s main entrance remained wide open.  There were two side doors, no other exits. 

I loosened my clothing. 

Armstrong sent my former assistant out of the room.  She used one of the rear side doors, leading into the kitchen.  She quickly returned with the volunteer test subjects, leading them out.  They were all men, ranging from in age from early twenties to mid sixties.  Some were fit, a few pudgy.  All wore robes, all were naked underneath.  They all had short hair and clean cheeks.  At least, the cheeks I saw. 

They all looked nervous but confident—their big moment had arrived.  When the researchers and test subjects were lined up by their cages, Armstrong stepped forward to address the audience.  He radiated assurance and confidence. 

“Good morning,” Armstrong told us.  “Thank you for coming.  I am certain today will be a unique experience.”  He motioned to the volunteers.  “Here are today’s test subjects, all, of course, volunteers,” Armstrong continued.  Many in the audience twitched, wary.  “They have all been properly prepared for what may happen after injection. 

“Believe me, we are concerned about transformation results.  I stand before you, someone who himself was a…victim…of a serum dose.  However, I also stand before you.  Recovered.  That gives us every hope there will be no problems today.  That and the fact there have already been two successes in the programme, one of which stands with us today.” 

He nodded to me, standing pretty far from him.  I nodded back.  I loosened the buttons on my shirt. 

“The serums have been tailored to them.  We anticipate positive results.  Heroic figures who will inspire confidence, as our programme guidelines require. 

“And if there is a problem, we have antidotes, available in various delivery forms.”  He pointed to collars around their necks.  “Antidote delivery includes syringes, darts and in the unbreakable collar each test subject wears.” 

He looked around the room.  “I won’t bother you with the names and histories of each volunteer.  What you should know is we drew them from Dr. Orwell’s list.  They have been carefully vetted.  In addition, all have been drawn from the military, where their work ranges from combat to administration.  I think that’s all, so let’s begin,” he concluded, smiling, beaming. 

Pinetree nodded to him.  She looked expectant.  I saw her fists were clenched.  As were Dr. Orwell’s.  As were Madeline’s.  As were my former assistant’s. 

As were mine.

Armstrong nodded to his new assistant and the other researchers.  His assistant handed him a filled syringe, as did the other assistants to their researchers, all in a line.  It all felt very staged.  The test subjects walked into the cages and sat in the chairs, looking at the syringes.  Holding the syringes, the researchers walked into the cages, followed by their assistants.  The assistants strapped each test subject into his chair, then rolled up each robe’s right sleeve. 

Outside the cages, security guards stood, armed with tranquilizer and dart guns, two guards for each cage.  The guards looked ready for anything.  Although the researchers were eager, even celebratory, the overall atmosphere was tense. 

I was the only one with a real ability to defend himself if this turned into a gong show.  Guns would likely do little good.  Antidotes might not be delivered.  Given how each transformation involved body changes, the collars were…poorly thought through. 

Why is it to progress, people must forget history?    

I unbuckled my belt and slipped my shoes off.  The socks were disposable.  Maybe I just should have worn a robe myself. 

The assistants each cleaned a spot on each subject’s right arm.  The researchers stepped forward and injected a serum into each arm.  When the syringe was empty, each researcher stepped back, most smiling, then quickly backed out of the cage, their assistants following.  A security guard closed each cage door behind them, not bothering to lock it.  If a lock was useful it would be useless. 

We waited.  The volunteer test subjects.  The researchers.  The guards.  The audience.  Madeline.  Pinetree and Dr. Orwell. 

Me.    

I took off my shirt altogether.  Then my pants.  I stood in my shorts and socks but it did not matter.  No one saw.  Everyone’s eyes were on the test subjects.  Waiting.  Hoping for the best, certainly, but certainly waiting for the worst.   

The moment, tense and wary, filled with reluctance, was over.

The men all began to transform at about the same time, although at different speeds.  They all struggled, bound, in their chairs.  Several cried out, letting their fear show.

One thin fellow in the middle, wearing glasses, first began to take shape.  His body stretched.  At first I thought he was going to be some type of poster, like Mark.  But he thickened as he expanded into a large slim rectangle.  His face melted into the front.  Icons on the front appeared.  As he continued to transform, he cried out angrily.  Instead of a handsome hero, he was transforming into a cell phone. 

“I thought I was going to be inspiring!” he shouted.  “What the hell?” 

The next man whose transformation took shape was two cages down.  He was a thick fellow in his early twenties.  He grunted as his arms and legs thickened, breaking the leather straps.  He tried to stand but fell over, unable to support himself.  His entire skin was transforming into a shiny bright blue.  Soon it became apparent, especially when his eyes formed into headlights, that he was transforming into a sports car.  A convertible.

He opened his hood, obviously furious.  “This is dignified?” he honked.    

By then the man on the far right was recreating himself into shredded pieces of paper, bonding together, a little like living Paper Mache.  He easily slipped his arms and legs free through the straps, not having to break the leather.  Pushing himself up, he stood, wobbly, by then his skin had become dollar signs.  Mostly fives and tens.  His face, however, was thousand-dollar bills.  This volunteer had transformed into living money. 

He looked at himself, then glared at the researcher who injected him.  He yelled at them, perhaps predictably, “I’ve been short changed!” 

The man on the far left was now standing, having broken his straps.  He had evolved into someone tall and thin and who now wore a long cape.  His skin was red.  Horns had grown from his forehead.  He looked at me and half of him abruptly changed.  The horns disappeared and wings grew spread his back.  He flapped them and hovered over the floor, looking down at us with a kindly smile. 

“This is good,” he said in an evil voice.

The man next to him had transformed into, strangely even for this group, a man-sized set of keys.  His startled face on the keyring.  On the key ring, I saw what looked like a car fob, actual keys too large to fit any lock.  Dangling also from the keyring were machine guns and two long sharp swords.  When the keys looked at himself in the mirrors he freaked.  His uzi went off.  The security guards outside the cage both pumped darts at him, filled with the antidote and a tranquilizer.  But he was now metal.  The darts bounced off.  As for the collar, it dangled uselessly next to the uzi. 

Someone in the crowd screamed.  Pinetree stood.  Dr. Orwell left.  Madeline sat stiffly, eyes wide. 

I began to transform.

More people screamed when another test subject bit through his leather straps as he became something that looked like a T-Rex, all large head and snarling with a jaw full of sharp long teeth.  All animal, all ferocious.  He bit through his leg straps, then stood, wobbly at first, on two muscular thick legs.  He steadied himself by balancing himself with his new long tail.  He began to grow feathers.  The antidote collar lay on the floor.

As if to match him, the man in the cage next to him transformed into a huge gorilla looking a lot like King Kong.  His restraining straps burst as his arms and legs grew, as did his collar.  Now he stood in his cage, saw the T-Rex, pounded his chest and roared. 

Next to him was a man who had transformed into a large ball of light.  It floated a few feet above the air, changing colours.  Arms and legs emerged from the ball and withdrew.  One arm then appeared, holding a thunderbolt.  He threw it and it flew over my head and smashed into a far wall.  It exploded, burning a big hole in the wall.  “I am the vengeance!” the ball of light declared. 

The blue car smashed through its cage and ran over the first person it saw.  The Devil/Angel, half each, waved the bars of its cage apart to hover over the blue car approvingly.  More screams. 

And more when another test subject, who had transformed into a rather charming cherub on first glance, floating above the floor in its cage while fluttering his wings, took an arrow from his quiver and shot it into the chest of a man standing next to the man with a thick neck.  The man with the thick neck had jumped up first and was scrambling away, towards the back, as the armed guards moved forward.  The cherub shot an arrow at him.  I saw a ghostly hand materialize around it in half flight, gently sending it off course.  Phyllis. 

Another test subject transformed into an excellent copy of Superman.  This fellow looked exactly like what the research guidelines sought.  He had the cape, the tights, the big, stylized S on his chest.  He stood in his cage, looking at his arms, full of rippling muscles, at his amazing chest, at his sturdy legs.  Absorbed with himself, ignoring everything exploding around him.  He appeared amazed with how super he had become.    

By then tranquilizer darts and antidotes were flying at the transformed men.  All bounced off.  The collars had all broken open, falling uselessly to the floor, no longer able to bind what were no longer human necks.  Armstrong and the other researchers ran from the cages and exited stage left, through a side door.  Armstrong looked confused.  He was first out.  The last shut the door behind him.

It rapidly went downhill although it was already downhill.  Downhill is a slippery slope.  A slope which had been deliberately fostered, leading to this morning. 

Cell phone guy simply slipped between the bars of his cage.  When he began dialing numbers.  Cell phones in people’s pockets began exploding.  Mine was in my clothing.  I was by now fully transformed.  King Kong and T-Rex smashed through the bars of their cars, looked at each other and immediately began fighting.  The cherub continued to shoot arrows, hitting people in the back as they fled.  Money Man flung twenty-dollar bills which sliced into unprotected necks.  And legs.  And hands.  His twenties seemed endless. 

Pinetree and her aides did their best to control the crowd scrambling for the open doors of the entrance.  They must have had a plan but in the panic it crumpled.  The panic grew worse as thunderbolts flew over everyone’s head.  Even worse when the keys starting shooting again, spraying the room with bullets.  Superman stood in his cage, admiring his body.

Transformed, I could protect myself, maybe help.  I moved forward, uncertain what to do.  There were ten weird monsters and many injured at their feet.  As they advanced, the transformed men looked at me—and ignored me.  I breathed a grunt of relief.  They saw me as one of them. 

By now the staff had managed to flee.  Pinetree remained, commanding the guards.  But they had no chance.  “Do what you can,” she said then then told the guard to retreat.  She was last out of the cafeteria as the ten transformed men advanced.  They followed through the open door, new holes in the wall next to it, or like the car just drove through a wall. 

Suddenly the cafeteria was quiet. 

Except for the moans of injured men and women.  Only Superman remained in his cage, near King Kong and T-Rex, who still fought.  They seemed well matched.  I walked up to Superman and growled, “How are you?” 

He looked up for a moment, from his magnificent body.  “Super.  I’m super.  Just like they said.  I’m handsome and I have muscles and power and I’m…super!!”  His eyes returned to his body as he flexed a huge bicep. 

I decided he was not an immediate problem. 

Nor were King Kong and T Rex, who were obsessed with fighting each other, accidentally smashing anything nearby in the process. 

However, there were the victims.  My first act was to help the injured.  Few were dead.  Many were guards.  I did quick triages to stop bleeding.  The ones beyond help were mostly shot by arrows or burned by thunderbolts or run over by the sports car. 

Three transformed men were in the cafeteria and did not need immediate attention.  That left seven rampaging through the Academy

Pinetree and Dr. Orwell could be anywhere.  There was no one to stop this but me.  I snarled, tensing my claws.  I had already thought through this type of disaster scenario.  There were too many to fight.  And I did not want to fight them.  They did not deserve to be injured or die, even if they themselves had injured or killed others. 

What they had transformed into was not their fault. 

It was ours. 

What would happen to them now was not their fault.  It would be mine. 

I loped to the open doors of the cafeteria and paused.  No sounds.  Hopefully by now all but the transformed remained in the facility—but for how long?  No gunshots meant the guards were probably outside, regrouping.  Pinetree must have had reinforcements ready.  She must have.  a

I sniffed. 

The closest scent was down the hall.  I saw no one.  Doors lining the hallway were open and closed.  I trotted cautiously towards the scent. 

It came through an open door.  I knew it.  Armstrong’s lab.  I peered inside.  Armstrong and my former assistant were cowering against a back wall, trapped.  Facing them were the Devil and God, apparently now working as a team. 

I entered the room and growled, announcing myself.  The Devil turned to look at me.  God did not have to turn. 

“Ah,” the Devil murmured in a deep raspy voice, “one of us.  The first one.” 

I growled and stepped forward.  They would be formidable if I had to fight them.  “That’s me.  What was inside me did this.”  I spread my arms, showed them my claws.  “Guess the two of you are arguing.” 

Half of the Devil became an Angel.  Horn on one side, wing on the other.  “Yes,” the Angel half said.  “We’re arguing how to kill them,” the Devil added. 

“I tell them it’s up to me, I’m God,” God told me.  “The Angel wants to fly them up to the sun.  Burn them in the heavens, so to speak.  The Devil wants them dropped into an active volcano, but none is available, so he wants to pick them up, take them high and then drop them.”

“And you?”

“I intend to disintegrate them, perhaps while in the form of a burning bush.  I like burning bushes.” 

I let loose with a long, roaring howl, letting them hear my anger and the beast it had created.  Then looked at them. 

“I wish I could do that,” the Angel said.  “Me too,” the Devil added.  “I will create that soon,” God chimed in. 

I loped closer to them.  Armstrong and his assistant could only cower and watch.  I noticed the assistant held two syringes.  Antidotes.  I looked at them, they looked back.  They were afraid to move.  Reasonable fear.  I moved still closer to their creations.

“That was fast,” I growled.  “I’m surprised you sorted it out.”    

“Sorted what out?” God asked, piqued. 

“The morality,” I replied.  “Normally, God and the Devil would never agree.”

“Agree on what?” God demanded.

“Mr. Devil/Angel here wants to kill them.  So do you.” 

“Of course.  They deserve punishment,” the Devil chimed in.  His Angel half flapped its wings.

“Yet,” I continued, “God, there are your ten commandments.  They’re different across interpretations but the first commandment is always the same.  Thou shalt not kill.” 

They all nodded.  No disagreement there. 

“No thou shalt not kill unless they really deserve it.  Thou shalt not kill, period.” 

They nodded again, looking less angry, more intrigued. 

“Morality is confusing,” murmured the Angel. 

“Morality is what you all focus on.  You are moral opposites.  How can you agree on killing?  Shouldn’t you think this through a bit more?” I asked God.  God sort of shimmered.  I turned to Devil/Angel.  “And you.  Let’s be honest.  Your Angel half is a sham,” I growled. 

Devil/Angel shrugged and Angel vanished.  Now he was all Devil.  “It’s part of what I do,” he explained. 

Both stared at me, fascinated.    

Progress. 

I looked at God and the Devil. 

“Don’t you have to think this through?” I asked.  “I’m confused.  Aren’t you?”

“Think through what?” the Devil asked. 

“That I am God and you are the Devil,” God told him.  “We should never agree.” 

“What’s wrong with us agreeing?” the Devil asked.  “Sounds good to me.”

“Exactly,” God replied. 

Then began a lengthy debate on morality. Neither was used to thinking about morality and certainly not in any depth that would help in a profound theological discussion.  After a few minutes, it left both exhausted, and God shimmered into something like his human form while the Devil transformed back into his former self.  They looked at each other, dazed. 

“Now,” I snapped at the scientists.  “While you can.” 

Armstrong and the researcher were ready.  They pushed themselves up and lurched forward.  Armstrong injected God, his assistant the Devil.  Both transformed men lurched back.  They pulled out the syringes but it was too late.  The syringes were empty and the antidotes worked quickly.  They faltered, struggling.  Their bodies began to change, transforming until both were completely back to a normal appearance, dazed on the floor, naked, moaning.  My former researcher stepped forward, took two more syringes from her pocket and quickly stabbed both men.  Their eyes rolled over as they went into some void. 

I looked at the scientists.  “Get out.  If you can.”  I added, although part of me did not want them safe, “Though maybe you’re better off staying here and hiding.”  Then I left them.  Then I came back.  I growled at Armstrong, “Know where the other antidotes are?” 

“Yes.  Thank you.  That was incredible.” 

“Where?” I growled. 

“I worked with the other researchers,” he told me.  “I have all the antidotes.”

I can’t say I thought or had much of a plan.  It was moment by moment.  But I needed help.  “Good.  Get them.” 

“I have them,” the assistant told me. 

“Good.  Both of you come with me.” 

“Why?” she asked. 

“Save the others,” I replied.  “Can’t do it alone.  Good career move.” 

She thought about it a moment, then agreed.  Armstrong started to say something but, when I left the lab and she followed, he had no choice but to join us.  Otherwise, he would lose face.    

I looked out from the lab.  The hallway was empty.  Still heard nothing. 

“No active scents,” I growled.  “Bad.  By now, must be in the mall.” 

I loped forward, the two scientists reluctantly following.  I kept listening.  No gunshots.  No moans either.  I paused, near the front doors, picking up scents outside, and the sound of glass breaking.  I took a breath and moved into the mall. 

“Stay close,” I growled, probably without need as I could easily hear them panting. 

I stopped at the entrance to the mall.  Lights were on.  I saw broken glass.  A guard in a uniform crawling towards the front door, his leg broken.  There were many scents.  Then I heard breaking sounds, close by, a few doors down. 

It was in the money lending store a cash for lengthy loan place.  It was the closest sound.  The guard seemed okay for the moment so I led the scientists towards the store.  As we approached, the sounds grew louder.  The glass on the front windows and door had been shattered.  Inside I saw was the Money Man, wrecking everything he could see.  Money Man in the Money Store.    

I flexed my claws.  Money Man I could rip to tiny pieces.  His flesh slicing bills were no match for my claws and fangs.  I could not fight both God and the Devil, but flying cash from a man made from paper was something else. 

“Stay out of sight,” I growled to the scientists.   “You’ll know when to come in.  Let me try first.” 

I leapt over the broken window and into the store, ignoring the glass which crunched under my feet.  He was slashing a computer with dollar bills. I loped towards him and growled.  He looked up. 

He nodded.  “You.  I heard about you.” 

I growled.  “Yeah, I’m one of you.  We both got a shot.” 

He looked around, gesturing wildly.  “I owe so much money to places like this.  Always hated them.  I saw this store when they brought me into The Academy.  I knew, if I could, it would be the first place I would destroy.” 

“Yes,” I growled, nodding my hair head, drawing closer.  “It’s a nightmare.” 

“They take advantage of people.  Of me.” 

“Yes.  Being inside this store, it must be a nightmare for you.” 

“Nightmare?”  The way I growled it distracted him from his wildness.  He turned and faced me.  “For me?  What do you mean?” 

“Cash is dead.  This store represents that.  Everything is digital.  Everything is credit cards.  No one uses cash.  I’m so sorry.  You’re obsolete.” 

The twenty-dollar bills forming his brow furrowed.  He looked closely at me.  “I know, yes.” 

“It must be so hard for you.  Demoralizing.  I mean, you even shoot dollar bills, right?”

“Yes, so?  They sliced up these computers good.”

“Think about it.  They have not made dollar bills for decades.” 

“Oh. Yeah.” 

“They’re probably setting up some kind of machine outside to convert you into a credit card.”

“I would hate that.”

“Cash has been on the way out for years.  It was slow but happening.  Then there was the never- ending pandemic.  We were told money was dirty, it could carry the virus.  That wasn’t true, but the damage was done.  I switched to credit and kept the filth out of my wallet.” 

“I’m filth,” Money Man said sadly. 

“Can you transform into a credit card?  Or a banker’s cheque?” 

He shook his head.  “No, but I like the idea about the virus.  Each bill could carry a covid variant.  Or the Plague.  Lots of fleas on every bill.  No one would care if they’re singles or fifties.  Could I do that?” 

“Maybe.  If they didn’t tell you, actually I’m one of the researchers.  I helped develop the serum which transformed me.  My guess is that if you transform back to your normal self, you can then think, readjust and transform back into something better.” 

He was thinking.  “Yeah, I could turn my bills into the Plague.  Or somehow destroy credit cards.  And banks.  Maybe not Credit Unions.”  Troubled, now desperate, he began to transform and soon another naked man stood in front of me. 

Armstrong and the assistant ran in.  She injected him before he could react.  He backed away and began to transform back.  I readied my claws, not wanting to use them.  But then the transformation stopped, faltered and he shrank back to his human form and fell to the floor, gasping, skin and body back to normal. 

The researcher leaned forward and shot him up with something that knocked him out.  She was so prepared.  A great assistant, except for her being blech. 

That left Cupid, the Cell Phone, Keys and the Car. 

I stepped back into the mall, the scientists following, pausing to listen and smell.  Nothing useful.  I saw no sign of Pinetree or any guards.  They were probably regrouping outside the mall, on the street.  I looked down the end of the mall and did see flashing police car lights at one of the mall entrances.  Yellow police tape was already covering the doors. 

If I was going to avoid the others being killed—in a sense, they were my brothers—I had to be quick. 

I smelled something and saw movement in the lingerie store across the mall.  I swiftly loped forward and entered.  Cupid was floating among the panties, angry.  He had his bow and arrow ready.  He looked up when I entered, lifting his bow, but stopped when he saw who/what I was.  I loped up close to him. 

“This is disgusting!” Cupid cried, looking at some crotchless panties.  “Where is the love?  I have to kill all of them, until only those who love are left.  Otherwise, love will never survive.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” 

“I thought you would understand!”  He raised his bow. 

“Couldn’t agree more,” I growled.  “Look at me.”

“You?  You’re one of the scientists.  They told me about you.  You’re a success story.  They bragged about you.  You’re probably full of lust, not love.  But I won’t shoot you.  You’re an animal.” 

“And one of you.”  I barked a laugh.  “Sure.  Want to know about me, really?  About how I’m a success story? 

“I developed the serum because of my anger.  I’m angry a lot.  I don’t know why.  I was divorced because of it.  Divorced because I was a jerk.  I’m still a jerk. 

“Lust?  A year after my divorce, I called an escort service and they sent a woman over.  I saw her regularly.  I paid for it.  She took the money.  It was lust, at least for me.  For her?  I assumed she was spying on me, probably for the government.  Checking up on me. 

“She was.  She used me and my lust.  Then, a few weeks ago, I transformed.  So did she.  We had sex, me like this, she as this kind of ghostly invisible person.”

“More sex,” Cupid said.  “It sickens me.  Lust?”

“No, not any longer.”  Cupid frowned, listening.  “The odd thing is, I think it’s turning into love.  Now maybe I love her.  I think she’s loved me for a while.  So now I don’t want to have sex with her as much as just to be with her.  We sit and talk and sip coffee.  That’s better than sex.  Companionship, maybe?”    

Cupid nodding.  “Love is confusing.” 

“You have to give lust time.” 

“Why should I?” 

“How will killing people who are in lust but could be converted to love help?  Less people?  How will that increase love?  People won’t understand.  You represent love and you kill people.  You are destroying any chance they could feel love.” 

“This is all so new.  All I want is love,” Cupid said sadly.  Humming the Beatles song, Cupid began to cry, small silver tears trickling down his cheeks.  “I need a hug,” Cupid told me. 

He fluttered forward, barely able to fly, and I took him into my arms, giving him a great big hug.  The assistant snuck up behind us and injected Cupid with the antidote.  Cupid looked at him, startled.  “Why?  I could do so much good.”

“Your arrows kill.”

“I could change that.  I love you.” 

“Don’t worry.  Love never dies.”

“Sure it does.” 

Cupid’s expression weakened as his face melted.  He began to sob.  I held him as he transformed back into a human.  My former assistant injected him with something to knock him out. 

During all this, Armstrong stood at the front entrance, watching.  Nervous.    

Three to go.  After tracking a scent, I found the car keys in the hardware store, unlocking sample doors.  “I have work for us,” I told him.  Bored, he eagerly followed. 

Outside we almost ran into the cell phone, who had no one to dial.  He also was bored. 

“I don’t have service,” he complained.  “No one paid for a plan.”

“I can solve that, friend.  Meanwhile, we have important work to do.” 

“Like what?” 

“Get out of here.”

“I’m with that.” 

I led them down the mall, searching.  Behind us, Armstrong and the assistant followed.  There was a fancy car supply store down the mall.  I figured the car might be there and headed there.  And indeed, the blue car was inside the fancy auto parts store, having smashed a chunk of the front section to fit inside.  The car appeared happy, headlights on high, browsing car stereo systems.    

“This is wonderland,” the car, or its engine, murmured.  “I could browse here forever.” 

“You should get away,” I growled.  “Escape.  Drive out.” 

“I guess so.  But look at me.  I don’t have a stereo like this.  And those tires on the walls!  I’m not complete.  I’m supposed to be classy and fun.  How can I show myself?”  He had transformed into a convertible sports car, after all.  He raised his top.  “How’s this?  Any better?  These are leather seats!” 

“You have to get out.  There are better stores.” 

“Hmmm.   Point taken.” 

“But you can’t drive anywhere.  Not outside the mall.” 

“Why not?”

“For starters, no keys.” 

And the keys perked up proudly and leapt into the car.  “Here we are!”  The engine purred. 

“And how about a cell phone?  What if you get into a fender bender?”  And the cell phone, no longer bored, also leapt into the car.  Now the engine was really purring, revving up. 

“You’re right!  I have keys and a phone!  I’m ready to tear out of here!”    

I motioned to Armstrong and the assistant who had snuck up behind up me.  All the transformed men were self-absorbed.  They both had antidotes ready.  The researcher handed me a third.  Did I say she was prepared?  The woman was eager and doubtless would work her way to the top.  If her career did not kill her first. 

“Shoot the car in the upholstery,” I told the assistant.  “I think it’s soft and vulnerable.  Only place.”  She nodded.  To Armstrong, I said, “The cell phone is only vulnerable in its charging ports.  Try for those.” 

We approached slowly.  “Too bad you can’t go anywhere,” I then told the car.

“Why not?  I’m all set.” 

“It isn’t legal.  You can’t drive with a cell phone in you, phoning people.” 

“That’s stupid,” the cell phone protested.  “And I can phone through his dashboard.”

“Don’t have that,” the sports car replied sadly.  “I was looking at some of that in this store.”

“I want to go!” cried the keys.  “C’mon!”

“We can’t!” cried back the car and cell phone.  “We have to sort this out!” 

They argued. 

The assistant shot a dart into the front seat.  The car quickly began wavering.  The assistant shot the cell phone through his charging jack.  He quickly slumped.  The keys leapt out of the car, frightened. 

“What are you doing?”  The face in the key ring stared at me, shuddering.  I shot a dart into its open mouth as it gasped.  Went straight between the lips. 

Shooting it in the eye felt gross. 

The keys slumped to the floor.  The car had returned to his human form, struggling to stand.  The assistant injected him and he went quiet.  The cell phone moaned “My battery’s gone!” as he also transformed back to a naked man.  The assistant injected him.  Then the keys.  All three were now quiet. 

All that was left were the monster guys and Superman. 

I led the scientists back to the Academy.  They were sweating.  I saw Pinetree, with a large squad of soldiers, enter the mall.  I held my arm up, claws extended. 

“We’re good,” I told her.  “Three to go.  In the cafeteria.  Follow us.  More are in stores.” 

She held up her hand, stopping the squad.  Armstrong ran up to them, rather eagerly, to explain that everyone but those in the cafeteria had been neutralized.  I saw groups of soldiers heading out to round up the unconscious. 

I entered the Academy, the researcher following, Pinetree and some troops not far behind. 

“You’re doing the right thing,” I encouraged her. 

“You were right,” she replied.  “It’s great for my career.”  

I led us into the cafeteria. 

Superman still was in his cage, admiring himself.  He did look super.  Meanwhile, King Kong and the T Rex continued to brawl.  Everything around them was wrecked.  Neither seemed to have any advantage.  Kong tried to wrestle and flip T-Rex, but it had seen the film.  I ignored them and went to Superman.   

“How do we do Superman?” the assistant asked.  “We could shoot it into his mouth and hope he swallows.  He might spit it out.”  She smirked.  “Look at him.  I say, pull down his pants and stick the hypo up his butt.” 

Her suggestion felt sacrilegious but reasonable. 

“You’re enjoying this,” I said to her.  

“We’re saving them,” she replied.  “Let’s get this hypo up his ass.”

We entered his cage.  He did not even notice us. 

“Golly!” the assistant said, eyes wide and flirting.  She touched his bicep.  “Look at you!  You’re so super!”

He smiled, eyes on his muscles.  “Want me to flex a little? 

“Oh yes!” 

And he began flexing his chest muscles.  It was very impressive.  While he flexed, the assistant pulled down his trunks.  Underneath, Superman was commando. 

“What are you doing?” he muttered.  “I think you’ve pulled down my pants.” 

“Want to see your super parts,” she replied.  He smiled.  She parted his cheeks, pushed the hypo into his butt and pressed the plunger.    

“Oh, I like that,” he said, smiling. 

Then his eyes rolled over and he stumbled around a bit and fell to the floor.  When he was human, she gave him another shot. 

That left King Kong and T-Rex. 

Pinetree entered the cafeteria, quite a few guards behind her.  She saw us and ran up. 

“You all right?” 

“Better than all right.  Did not have to hurt any of them.” 

“They’re all neutralized?” 

“Given antidotes,” the assistant said, chiming in.  “They should stay normal, but there is no way to be certain.  I was glad to be of service.” 

Pinetree nodded.  “And those two?” 

I looked at the fighting monsters.  “The others, I could talk with.  Not these two.  Let’s see if your guards can hit them in their mouths with tranks.  Kong’s only furry.  The dino may be vulnerable in his neck, where the tissues are soft.” 

Pinetree snapped to the guards.  They raised their guns and shot a flurry of tranquilize darts.  Three hit Kong in the chest, and stuck.  Most bounced off the dinosaur but two caught him in his neck when he raised his head to roar.  They also stuck. 

In another few short relief-filled moments, both slumped to the ground and were promptly shot with tranquilizers. 

All done. 

I grabbed my pants from the floor, transformed, and slipped them on, zipping up as I returned to Pinetree. 

“The base is a disaster,” I told her.  “This is what you wanted.  The public has to know.” 

“There’s a big crowd outside already,” she replied. 

“The whole base will have to be rebuilt,” the assistant said, wanting to be part of the conversation, especially if it involved the General.  “I’d love to help.” 

“Not sure I want it rebuilt,” Pinetree replied quietly.  “Not like it was.  In any event, yes, the next few days are clean-up.” 

For me as well. 

I had not become angry once, although there were plenty of opportunities.  Why?  I had to understand why.  All this felt part of my cure.  To be cured, I had to understand. 

But at the moment, I was worried far more worried about something else.  “Where’s Madeline?” I demanded, anxious. 

“Calm down,” Pinetree tried to comfort me.  “She’s okay.  I saw her.” 

That was something.  “Where is she?”

“Gone home, I think,” Pinetree said.  And she actually gave me a hug.

I liked the hug. 

I’d never seen her hug anyone. 

I went to the basement and got into my car, still wearing only pants.  Fortunately, I had left my cell phone in one of the pockets.  I phoned Madeline.  No answer. 

The drive over was reckless, frantic. 

I knocked on her door until she answered.  She pulled it open.  Her eyes were red.  Mel stood behind her.  “You okay?” I asked.  She shook her head and stepped away. 

I went into her apartment, her private sanctum, and closed the door behind me.  I appreciated her letting me inside.  Mel stepped up and gave me a hug. 

I liked the hugs. 

I wanted one with Madeline, but that was out of bounds. 

I yearned for Phyllis. 

“You got more clothes?” Mel asked. 

“Left them,” I told her, kissing her forehead.  “Guess I was in a rush.”

After a moment, we walked into Madeline’s living room.  It was spare and clean.  Quite a few plants, some prints I’d never liked on the walls.  Madeline and Mel sat on the couch, I pulled up an armchair. 

Madeline started to cry.  “So many dead and hurt.”  Mel took her into her arms.  Hugs.

“Anything I can do?” I asked, sitting alone.  Mel shook her head.  I went into the kitchen and filled a glass with water, went back and put it on the coffee table in front of them, then sat again. 

“I talked with Pinetree,” I finally said.  “Six, maybe seven dead.  About twenty injured.  I don’t know more.” 

“What about Armstrong?” Madeline asked, wiping away tears, Mel handing her some tissues. 

“He helped me give antidotes.  He and my former assistant.  They’re…somewhere.  She helped a lot.  He watched.  I think his confidence was broken.” 

“And the volunteers?” 

“Madeline, my goal was to save them.  I did.  If they killed, I could not blame them.  It was the serum.  The drug.  I was the only one who could pull it off.  And somehow, it worked.” 

She nodded, taking more tissues and blowing her nose.  She always had a lovely nose.  “How did you do it?”

“Mostly just talked with them.  I didn’t want to fight.  And, Madeline, no anger.  Just feeling a determination.  I don’t know where the anger is.” 

She looked at me.  “No anger at all?  Not even your old assistant?” 

“God, that woman is cold,” I told her.  “I think I hate her, as much as I hate anyone.  But angry?  No.  Weird, eh?” 

“Yes,” she said.  “Weird.” 

“How’s Phyllis?” Mel asked. 

I shook my head.  “She followed one of the men behind all the pressure.  She’s probably okay.  No, I’m worried.  Not about him.  When transformed, she’s becoming detached.  I think it’s affecting her.  Distancing her.  I need to speak with her but I don’t know when she’ll be back.  Or, if.” 

There was nothing more to say.  I stood and paced.  Mel watched.  Madeline threw a wad of tissues into a waste basket.  I was frustrated.  I should be doing something.  Then, I realized I was.  With my family.  I sat back with them again, this time on the couch, on the other side of Madeline.    

“What about the research?” Madeline asked.  “Is it finally over?” 

“If only.  Don’t know,” I told her.  “Hope so.  I have no idea what Pinetree’s doing.  Or Orwell.  But they wanted this.  Let’s hope they can use it.  Could be over tomorrow, eh?” I told her, trying to sound reassuring. 

“I spoke with Pinetree.  They’re in touch with the other bases,” Madeline said quietly.  “The other commanders are jointly asking for the bases to be shut down.” 

“Only to be restarted under another name,” Mel added.  When we looked at her, she said, “I’m not being cynical.  The government sees this work as necessary.  Right?  What happened at the mall isn’t enough.  The public doesn’t know enough.  Something has to push it over the edge.” 

“It probably will take more,” I muttered, agreeing.  “In the long run.” 

“More,” Mel said. 

“More of what?” Madeline asked. 

The conversation shut down.  After a while, I left them.  Mel was going to stay the night with Madeline.  Great.  But I felt outside looking in.  I had history with them.  Healing would take a long time. 

I drove home, thinking. 

At home, the reporters had returned.  I dodged them, walking up to the guards who had followed me to Madeline’s and then to my house.  “You can go for coffee,” I told them.  “I’m good.” 

They both held up travel mugs. 

I walked into my house and closed the door.  I stopped and waited.  The sense of Phyllis did not come.  I was alone.  I felt alone. 

I went down to the basement.  There was some old furniture Phyllis had consigned to the dump, but we never had time to get rid of it.  I took off my pants, stood naked for a moment, then transformed.  Now I had fangs.  Now I had claws. 

I dove into an old armchair.  My claws slashed the fabric.  I grabbed a chunk of headrest in my jaws and ripped it off.  Then I went to work on two old cabinets. 

By the time I was finished, panting, there was nothing left but splinters and bits of fabric and stuffing floating in the air.  I wanted to rip more apart, but the rest was reserved, she liked it, it was off limits.  I stood straight, pulled my head back and howled.  Howling felt good. 

I loped up the stairs and went into the back yard.  Leaping over the fence, I nodded at the two guards in the forest and started to run.  They both followed.  I let them. 

After a short run, I stopped. It was a fairly clear night, the moon good.  I took in scents and sounds.  There were people nearby but the deeper section of the forest had no humans.  I headed there. 

Soon I was in thick forest, no easy paths for people to follow.  The guards behind me stumbled.  I stopped again.  I smelled squirrels.  Boring.  Owls and other birds.  Hard and silly.  Then I caught the scent of a rabbit. 

I moved slowly forward, focussing.  I followed the trail, the scent and visual cues, closing in.   The scent grew stronger.  I heard rustling up ahead.  I moved cautiously, crouching. 

And there it was, nibbling on something.  Innocent.  Harmless.  Prey. 

It stiffened, aware of my presence.  I leapt forward.  The rabbit was fast but it never had a chance.  One big hand grabbed it on the rear legs as it turned away, then the other hand around its back.  Then I lifted it, one clawed hand around its head as it struggled, terrified. 

“This part is natural,” I growled. 

Then I released it. 

It was running as it hit the ground.  The two guards had caught up by then and seen it all.  I looked at them, seeing the question in their eyes.  They had expected me to kill the rabbit, maybe eat some of it. 

“It felt better to let it live,” I told them.  “Even if it is not natural.  Must be natural for me.”

“I thought you liked killing,” one guard said. 

“It does feel good,” I replied.  “That’s the problem.” 

We trotted back to my house.  They stayed behind while I leapt over the fence.  Back at my house, I had a long hot shower.    

Chapter Fifty

Aftermath

I woke, hoping to find Phyllis next to me.  Same when I stepped out of the shower.  Same when I finally stepped outside.  I yearned for a feeling of her.  Nothing. 

Phyllis had been gone a long time.  Too long. 

I drove off alone that morning, desperate. 

I sipped from my travel mug.  The radio was full of reports about the mall disaster.  It was clear a secret military base conducting dangerous experiments was placed there in the middle of a civilian area.  Politicians—possibly some of the same ones who ordered the new research to blast ahead—publicly were already demanding answers. 

When I arrived, the mall remained cordoned off.  Security guards allowed me in.  The underground parking lot was half empty.  I was not sure what that meant.  Were staff staying away or had many resigned?    

I took the elevator up, not knowing what to expect.  First, I had to talk with Pinetree about Phyllis.  Perhaps she’d had second thoughts.  Perhaps she was in Pinetree’s office even now. 

When the elevator doors opened I saw workers cleaning up.  Several more struggled to lift a large marble statue onto a wheeled palette.  Dr. Orwell stood next to them. 

The statue was Armstrong. 

As before, he looked noble in marble, looking up hopefully. 

“What happened?” I asked. 

Dr. Orwell was shaken.  She walked up, wiping her forehead with a tissue.  “Suicide.  Of a sort.  We found him this morning, here.  I imagine he wanted us all to see.  That we would be inspired.” 

The marble statue gleamed.  “He took his own serum again?”  The eyes on the statue were glazed, dull. 

She nodded.  “Same.  Left a note.  Acknowledged yesterday was a disaster.  That he was a key part of it.  Guilt.  He wrote that if he was best remembered this way, that he would inspire us.” 

I shook my head.  “Did he realize it would inspire us to stop the research?” 

She wiped something away from her eyes, lifting off her glasses.  “He was a fool.  His thinking probably never went that far.”  She put her glasses back on.  “What a mess.  It’s one thing to think of it hypothetically.”  She took a breath, rattled.  “Pinetree will want to see you.” 

“This reality is what you wanted,” I reminded her. 

“Thanks so much.”  She took off her glasses and used the tissue on them.  “Was here all night, along with Pinetree.  Sleep would be good but I can’t.” 

“Guilty?”  She should be.  Why let her off the hook.  Her goals were noble, the road to them broken and harsh.    

“Thanks again.  Too much to do.  Mike, it was the only way.  We should have stopped this months ago.” 

“Yeah, but no one wanted to stop.” 

We both looked at the gleaming statue for a long moment. 

“Where are they taking him?” I finally asked.

“Back to the graveyard.  He looks good as a monument.  Later.”  And she returned to the workers who finished hoisting Armstrong onto the palette and were ready to wheel him out.  She left with them, haltingly. 

As I walked to Pinetree’s office, I saw signs of destruction everywhere.  Holes in walls.  Blood on floors.  An arm. 

I passed by Armstrong’s lab.  It was a mess.  In the middle, cleaning up, was my former assistant. 

“Too bad about Armstrong,” I said to her, walking in, sipping coffee. 

“Not really,” she told me, looking up.  “He was a fool.  Screwed it all up.  Over eager.  Arrogant.  What a mess.”    

Her recent experiences had apparently made her more direct. 

I walked out, not having time.  I had to see Pinetree. 

Her office door was closed. 

Jane, her secretary, did not have her usual glare.  She looked haggard.   

“You’ll have to wait,” she told me.  “She’s in with the Mayor.” 

“Aftermath?” 

“Blow back.”  She rubbed her eyes.  “I was up half the night, once they let us back in.  We had to look after the test subjects, place them somewhere safe.  Secure The Academy.  Got a few hours’ sleep, then came back.  Just got back in twenty minutes ago.  The phone was ringing.  Pinetree’s been here all night.  She didn’t let herself go home.” 

“Sorry this is such a mess.” 

“Hardly your fault,” she told me.  “You see Armstrong?” 

“Yeah.  He thought he’d inspire us.” 

“Fool.”  She was bitter.  I had never seen her as anything but reserved, discrete. 

Pinetree’s door was opened by someone I did not recognize.  He wore a business suit, as did the three men and women who followed.  Then the Mayor emerged, Pinetree behind him.  As he left, the Mayor turned to Pinetree. 

“I can’t believe this,” he growled.  “There was no excuse for placing this operation downtown.  And in the heart of the city.  No excuse for this tragedy.” 

“No, sir, there isn’t,” Pinetree quietly replied, meeting his glare. 

The Mayor swiftly left with his entourage, slamming the door behind him.  Pinetree looked at the closed door, sighed.

She looked at her secretary. 

“About twenty messages,” Jane replied.  “The base commanders agreed to your zoom call this afternoon.  1;30.” 

Pinetree nodded.  “Good.  Thanks.  Stay with it.”  She started back into her office, waving me in to follow.  She was exhausted, slumping into her chair.  “I hate this.  How are you.”  Her voice was flat.  She picked up the cup on her desk, this time not tea but black coffee. 

“Processing.  Lots to absorb,” I told her.  “And we’re not done yet.”  She did not mention Phyllis.  I did not feel Phyllis. 

Pinetree nodded, finishing the coffee and pouring another.  “The base commanders are united, the politicians angry.  No one saw what really happened, but enough is public.  Enough of the secret is out.”  She paused, looking at the refilled cup.  “Told all but key staff to stay home for a week.  They’ll be reassigned when the base is closed.”  She sipped more coffee.  “Hoped,” she sighed, “there would fewer casualties.” 

“Could have been worse.  Will be, if this work continues.” 

She nodded.  “By now, everyone thinks that way.  You’ve seen Armstrong?”  I nodded.  “You haven’t said anything about Phyllis.  Nothing?” 

Finally.  I shook my head. 

“Well, intelligence takes time.”  She shrugged.  More coffee.  “You’re worried about her.”

“The longer she’s transformed, the more detached she becomes.” 

“Well then, let’s hope she shows up soon,” Pinetree replied.  What else could she say?  “I’ve got work to do, Mike.” 

So I left.     

I returned to my lab, but there seemed to be no point.  I wandered around The Academy.  Clean-up everywhere.  Empty desks everywhere.  Stunned eyes everywhere. 

No sign of Madeline.  I decided against phoning her.  I was not sure I could help her heal.  I was not what she needed.  After waiting the rest of the day for her to show up, I gave up and went home. 

Maybe she would show up at the house. 

There were no reporters.  Plenty for them to cover elsewhere.  I parked and went into my house, acknowledging the two guards who’d followed me and were now parked by the curb outside, reaching for their coffees.  At least they were not alone. 

It was quiet inside the house.  I had plenty of feelings but none of Phyllis.  It was beyond quiet, pulsing with…nothing.  I thought of transforming but that felt stupid.  No solution.  I looked at the TV but kept it off.  I poured a glass of water and sat in the backyard on a lawn chair, looking at the sky.  Clouds.  A storm in the distance, coming this way. 

I felt unsettled, empty.  After a few hours, I woke, still in the lawn chair.  Normally it felt great to ponder life’s mysteries, and then wake up.  Now I felt weary.  I pushed myself up and went into the kitchen, found the small bottle of brandy and poured a little into a little glass.  Everything felt small.  Everything felt little. 

Which was when I felt the presence. 

The hairs on my neck rose. 

I whirled around, searching.

Next to me a wraith suddenly materialized, white and ethereal, floating.  The wraith’s face was Phyllis.’  It was not ghastly.  She was smiling, distant.  She looked at me as if I was very far away.    

“Thank God,” I told her.  “You’re back.  Become human again.” 

She cocked her head a bit, looking at me with some sadness.  “Mike.  Hello.  I had to return to talk to you.  The pull away is irresistible.”  She smiled.  “I love being like this.” 

Alarmed, I insisted, already hopelessly, “You have to fight it.”

She looked at me.  “Why?” 

I searched for an answer as she floated in front of me. 

“I returned for two reasons, Mike,” she told me.  Her voice was as thin, as ethereal as her body.  It was difficult, hearing it that way.  She was in another place.  “First, that man.  I followed him, observed him with colleagues.  I know his secrets.  Their secrets.  I know it all, why the enormous pressure came down to proceed with new serums.”  She smiled.  “It’s unbelievably stupid. 

“He and his pals head crypto currency exchanges.  Some went bankrupt long ago or are close to it.  The survivors are struggling and afraid.  The had a bold, positive public image.  That was trashed.  They needed a new public image.  They wanted transformed subjects who became noble ideals.  Ideals they would use as spokespeople.” 

“Spokespeople?  That’s it?” I asked.  “This was all about creating spokespeople for crypto currencies?”

“Sounds stupid but so is crypto currency.  And they still had enough money to buy off enough politicians and generals to make it happen.  Now they’re desperate.  They know, with the mall incident, it will all become public.”

Incident?  Not tragedy? 

“Tell Pinetree.  I could not be bothered with two visits.  I had to push to make the time to visit you.  Second, Mike, I have to tell you I grew to love you.” 

“I love you.” 

“I will always remember you.  I think.  My former life is so distant.  This one is free and wonderful.”  She looked at me, smiling.  “Good-bye.  There is too much to explore.” 

And Phyllis shimmered and vanished. 

Vanished.

I felt nothing. 

I was in the kitchen, alone. 

Stunned.  Numb. 

Heartbroken. 

My Inner Werewolf Chapters 31-43

Chapter Thirty-One

Exploring My Inner Space

 As I looked at Pinetree and Dr. Orwell, I did not really care about them but knew I should.  We met following yesterday’s meeting with the thick man and his associates.  I did care about the two of them–they were important to me. 

That was sort of a start in caring.

“The government wants a strong force, capable of violence but radiating trust,” I added to the conversation.”  They nodded.  “None of the psychological profiles you’ve shown me, or the candidates, will work.  Here’s why.  My serum works for me because it’s based on my anger.  I can control it.  What I cannot control is what it looks like.  Nor can you control what anyone else’s looks like, except it probably won’t meet project goals.” 

“Agreed,” Pinetree said. 

“We should stop the project now.  It can never succeed.” 

Pinetree nodded, then said, “So, where do we go from here?” 

I looked at Dr. Orwell. 

She said, slowly, “We can’t alter the ugly so we have to make it based on a palatable emotion, one that is still capable of strength and violence.  If it turns out there are no alternatives to unacceptable appearances, well then we have to figure out how the public can relate to a monster image who is a hero.” 

“A monster can be acceptable if people get to know him,” I said.  “If he does good things.” 

“You need to get experience around people when transformed,” she told me.  “See how they react and try changing it.”    

“Is that why you suggested I go out on Halloween?  Go out when everyone else is dressed up like a monster?”

She smiled.  “I showed initiative.  Was it bad?”

“No, it was a hoot.  No one thought it was a suit, but they accepted me as friendly.”

“Good,” Pinetree added.  She had mostly been listening.    

I wanted to be who I was and yet be liked.  Apparently that meant accepting being manipulated.  “How can I appear more likeable?”

Pinetree shrugged.  “Be less like yourself?” 

“General,” Dr. Orwell said quickly.  “We need to be positive.  Mike is in a very difficult place and will be, for a while.”  Then she looked at Pinetree.  “There’s a problem? 

“He’s right.  The entire project should be suspended.”  She grunted, quietly.  “It all needs more thought.  Screw it.  I need a break.” 

I left them together as it looked like Dr. Orwell was about to start a therapy session with General Pinetree.  When I got home, Phyllis was not there.  There was a note on the kitchen table: “Tomorrow evening, hopefully.” 

All alone, first thing I did was take off my clothing (after drawing the curtains—I wanted to be liked for appropriate reasons.)  Much of my life had been spent alone, distanced.  It was never comfortable, now it felt…difficult. 

I thought of visiting my neighbours but it felt early and I’d always avoided them.  Phoning Mel seemed too aggressive.  Who else could I call?  There was no one, that was why I was in this situation.  So I decided to use it.  I had time alone.  What should I do with it? 

Caring more about people was a start.  Then I would be less angry and my cure would be helped.  I made a list of traits which were important if I was to relate to people.  Pretending to care as a way of learning to care.  What could be wrong with that?  It was not like I was desperately deluding myself. 

Well, it kind of was.  Here are the traits I had to develop and use:

–listen

–ask questions about hobbies, personal stuff

–act concerned 

–act as if I like them

I had been trying already but most knew I was going through motions.  Being sincere would be a challenge.  But it was not impossible to be sincere.  At least, probably not impossible. 

Maybe I needed to think differently.  I was alone.  How would I feel, transformed?  Would letting my anger out give me new ideas?  I’d never tried thinking when transformed.  It always was so…physical.   

I transformed, then loped out of the house into the backyard.  The moon cast a good light in a clear sky.  I nodded at the two guards in the woods.  One wore a track suit, ready if I went on a run. 

I took off, she followed.  The other guard kept up as best he could but we soon left him behind.  We ran side by side, along a trail in the forest.  I avoided people and did not run fast, though after a while she had trouble keeping up.

I thought about how to care about people.  For a moment, I thought of them as prey.  That got pushed out swiftly.  Non-productive.  Then I thought of the people I worked with, transformed.  Transformed like me.  And that we ran in the forest as a pack. 

That felt on the right track.  I thought of being part of a pack, mostly hunting together, working together, watching out for each other.  Could I see my colleagues as my pack?  We worked together, lived much of our lives together.  Could I lick their wounds? 

Those thoughts were intriguing, transforming from an isolated individual to being part of a pack.  How was it now not a pack?  We even worked towards a common goal.  Perhaps the difference was, we were all out for ourselves.  A wolf pack was composed of individuals out for themselves, though.  Perhaps it was our individual goals were too important to us.  We never placed the pack first.  Always, we placed ourselves first.  

I slowed and then stopped as we entered a quiet spot, no one around.  She quickly came up to my side, panting and sweating.  I looked at her.  She was tall with a tight frame. 

“Do you like your work?” 

She looked at me, obviously surprised.  “It has its moments.  You?” 

“Same.  You know about me.  Can I ask, do you have a family?” 

“Husband and two kids.” 

“I’m sorry if I’m taking you away from them.” 

“It’s work.  They’re used to my shifts.  Phyllis is away.” 

“Yeah.  I got lonely.  I appreciate the company.”  She smiled a little.  I was going to ask if she had any hobbies but that felt like pushing it.  We stood there a moment.  I could not think of anything else to say, so I started to run again, the guard at my side. 

It was a good run.  We heard a coyote, a couple of owls.  I heard field mice and snakes, sounds too low for her to hear.  Life was about running and listening and being part of the environment.  That also felt as if it was an important lesson of some kind.  The run had generated lots to think about. 

When we got back, I thanked her for the run and then leapt over my backyard fence and went into my house.  I transformed and had a long hot shower.  The steam felt good.  I had time alone.  What could I do with it?  It was good being part of the forest, being physical.  I dried, put on a robe.  What could I be part of in my bathroom? 

I washed the dishes. 

Then, I vacuumed.  Did the laundry.  Tidied.  There was a real pleasure in allowing myself time to do household chores I usually ignored because they felt meaningless.  It was all kind of zen.  I made coffee and took it to the guards in front and in back. 

After, I thought I should have asked how they were but I had done plenty.  It was tiring, thinking about what others wanted, like coffee.    

I went into the living room and put a disc in the player.  Forbidden Planet was a favourite film.  I settled in with popcorn and sparkling water and watched.  The main story involved the long-dead alien race, the Krell.  They lived on a distant planet, Altair Four, and had developed a technology allowing their minds to create matter anywhere on the planet.  Unfortunately, they had not counted on their most basic desires—like anger.  When they turned the power on, they destroyed themselves overnight, with no idea what was happening to them, that their consciously unknown vicious desires now were unleashed. 

I thought of watching another allegory, but it was getting late. 

Probably later than I thought.  I went to bed alone and turned on the smaller TV there. 

TCM had just begun Forbidden Planet.  I fell asleep watching monsters from the ID and wondering what monsters I and my colleagues had—my team, my family. 

Chapter Thirty-Two

Team Building!

The next morning, I was part of a team of researchers assembled by Pinetree and Dr. Orwell.  We met in the large board room, around the big oak table.  There was coffee, tea and dainties.  Today, particularly nice dainties.

“As you all know,” Pinetree began, leaving her own tea untouched, “all research on the personality enhancing projects has been suspended until further notice.  I want you to advise you all in person of this, and to reaffirm that we will never proceed unsafely.  Your work is our top priority, but you must be safe and confident.  You understand, we know this.” 

The researchers around the table nodded, waiting. 

“Mike here,” she continued, “is to date the only truly successful use of a serum.  As you know.  He not only survived transformation but has excelled at using his new body.  Given his unique experience, he has some pertinent observations.  Mike?” 

She stood aside and I took centre stage.  “Here’s my advice, for what it’s worth.  Our research has resulted in tragedies because it starts off wrong.  The emphasis was personality.  We looked for who we hoped would be good transformed.  Who would be confident, for example.  However, my own example shows the focus should be on emotions.  Although anger itself can be self-destructive. 

“The serum works for me because it tapped into a deep emotion which I could use, which would not use me.  Basically, my experience demonstrates that we need a certain type of anger and a subject who can use it.  Anyone else faces risks we all know.” 

They nodded.  “So,” one asked, “where do we go from here?” 

Dr. Orwell stepped in.  “Obviously, with testing limited, for the time being we will only continue theoretical work.  Meanwhile, I’ve been looking into potential candidates.  To date, I’ve found none.  I do expect to have a reasonable short list in about two weeks.” 

“All the bases are working on it,” Pinetree added.  “Including this one.  Remember, we have you and your safety in mind.  Caution first.

“I hope this delay will not last long,” she added.  “Any questions?” 

It was a pep talk which told us what we already knew.  There were no questions. 

We left, dainties untouched, still individuals working in the same area in the same facility.  Not a team.  Not a family.  Only many worried individuals, shaking their heads. 

“At least we’re not being laid off,” one muttered.

“They’d never lay us off,” another muttered back.

It was time to work from my list.  The list did not have everyone, only the twenty most important.  The time had arrived for me to figure out how to care about them.  Or convince them I cared. 

First was Fred.  I’d publicly criticized him the most and he’d avoided me the most.  I sought him out and found him in his lab, talking with two other researchers.  “Excuse me, can I have a moment?” I said as I approached them. 

They were quiet but not hostile.  Workplace friendly. 

I offered them each a usb stick.  “Here are my research notes and data,” I told them, handing each a stick.  “I know we’ve always tended to work separately but maybe it’s time for that to change.” 

They were surprised, it was obvious.  They gratefully took the usb sticks, a solid first step. 

“We’re screwed,” Fred said, looking at the stick in his hand.  “Everything but you and your serum is a dead end.” 

I shook my head.  “Yes but there are possibilities.  Variations on the formula and test subject.  Maybe we can talk when you study the data.”  I thought of asking how their families were, but that was probably too much. 

“I hope we get this resolved,” Fred said.  ““My family’s worried about me.”

So I asked about his family, surprised he even had one.   

Then I dropped in on Pinetree, catching her between phone calls.  I didn’t know if she anyone in her personal life, or if she even had a personal life.  “Tough meeting today,” I began. 

“Thanks.  How are you?” 

Maybe I should have begun that way.  “Giving other researchers my data.  Thinking about where we go from here.  I guess everything depends on finding the right test candidates.” 

“Orwell’s working on it.  And we have volunteers.  I’m hoping for a short list soon.”  She paused.  “I don’t like having these failures on my conscience.” 

I refilled her empty tea cup from the pot on her desk.  “It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is.”

Madeline was in her lab, working with her assistant.  She was more relaxed than usual.  “I’m glad it’s stopped,” she told me.  “It seems to have worked for you.  I haven’t seen any sign of your usual anger.  But for others?  Too dangerous.  Worse, Mike, I don’t like how it may be used.  Usually we have some idea of the purpose.  Why the mystery?”

“Good question.  Maybe they have a lot to hide.  Maybe they’re just jerks.  I can relate to them being jerks.” 

She shrugged.  “I agree.”  That was a little disconcerting, but she had divorced me.  “I’m only fiddling.  No more assignments, at least not yet.  They probably don’t know how to use me.  Except I feel the pressure.  Our serum was the one which worked. 

“I’m worried about you.  At least, if they had more subjects that worked…” her voice trailed off.  “We have to do something.” 

“What?” 

“Mark and Armstrong.  We should start with them.  They’re physically available.” 

“They’re dead.” 

“Yes.  It’s a problem.”

I radiated sympathy, much of which was genuine.  “I’m sorry it’s so tough.”  She was hurting.  I left her agreeing we could meet for dinner one night soon.  We had not eaten together for years. 

Throughout the day, I met other colleagues, showing them all I cared about them, checking each off the list.  It was artificial but inside it generated a warmth.  And I felt no anger at all.  Perhaps showing empathy was indeed a first step to achieving a cure. 

I also told them all that although anger was the best emotion for the project’s purposes, it was difficult to control.  I used myself as an example.  That they really responded to.  I felt a greater warmth inside. 

To make the point, I started transform in front of them.  I thought it was good sharing.  None had seen me in person.  Now they saw my anger full out, with fangs and claws and predatory eyes. 

Dr. Orwell called me in.  “You’re scaring the staff,” she told me.  Then added, “They need rattling.  Keep it up.” 

“What about morale?” 

“In the toilet.  Where it should be.” 

Since she was a therapist, I did not try anything on my list with her.  “I’ve talked with staff not about the politics but the feelings.  I’m sharing.” 

“You shared too much.  Your transformed anger is frightening.” 

“Okay, sorry, I’ll stop.”

“I care about them.  It’s part of my cure.” 

“You’re only pretending.” 

“Well, yes.” 

“Keep on doing it.  Can’t hurt at all.  But remember.  There are many ways to express anger.  Some that you don’t think about.  That just spring up.  Like scaring your colleagues.” 

I had not thought of it that way.  Was I being sideways hostile?  “I hear you.  Maybe I’ll hold off on transforming any more.  I did see they were scared.”  I thought a moment.  “What other ways am I still expressing anger?” 

“Working everyone off a check list.  You made a list, right?”  I nodded, embarrassed.  “You’re not working with strangers.  Remember, you have history with all of them.  They even signed that letter.” 

I drove home, a lot to think about.  There were less reporters outside.  I blew them off.  Phyllis was waiting in the house.  We looked at each other for a moment when I entered, then hugged. 

“Miss me?” she asked. 

“Who?” 

“They wanted to find out more about the researchers rebelling.  Sadly, I failed.  You?” 

“My anger may still be there.  Passive-aggressive stuff.” 

There was a knock on the door.  I went and opened it and to reveal Melanie.  Oh My God. 

“Hi dad.  Was dropping in a bad idea?”  And she looked over my shoulder and saw Phyllis standing in the hall. 

The day had gone sweetly right up until that moment.  It was a moment frozen in time.  Except it was not frozen, it was hot.  Red hot. 

I had no idea what to say.  Phyllis smiled and held out her hand.  “Hi, I’m Phyllis.” 

“I’m Melanie.”

“I work security at your father’s place.” 

Melanie knew.  I saw it.  “Oh?  That’s nice.”  She whirled on me and demanded, “Does mom know about this?”

“Well, I—”

And she abruptly walked away. 

I looked at Phyllis, then ran out after my daughter. 

The reporters had thinned out but were still around.  They followed me.  I told them it was private and, surprisingly, they stopped.  I saw Melanie getting into a car.  I came up to her as she started the engine. 

“Not now, dad.” 

“Now.  Stop.  Please.”  I opened her car door.  Hands gripping the steering wheel, she waited, staring ahead.    

“I should have told you,” I admitted.  “I was afraid of what you’d think.”

“Uh huh.”

“I met Phyllis a year ago.  She was…assigned to me as security.  A little less than a month ago, we started a relationship.  I was lonely.”   

“Mom’s all alone,” she snapped.    

“I talk with her every day, honey.” 

“Could you let go of the door?  I have to process this.” 

“Would you like to meet Phyllis?” 

“Dad!” 

I closed the door and she drove off.  I stalked back into the house without speaking to the reporters, closing the door on them.  I looked at Phyllis.  “I have to rip something apart.” 

“Not here.  Go outside.  The woods.” 

I tore off my clothing, transformed and went outside, Phyllis following.  I leapt over the fence, she opened the door.  The guards in the forest snapped to attention.  I growled at them.  They stepped back. 

I found a large green bush and ripped it to pieces with my claws.  Then more bushes and an entire small tree, my claws bleeding sap. 

I saw no animals and caught only scents.  They’d all taken off. 

I was furious.  I looked at my arm and clawed it.  Red blood spurted out of the wounds.  I watched the wounds heal, then slashed my arm again.  And again.  The long deep wounds healed. 

Phyllis grabbed my arm.  “You can’t kill yourself,” she told me. 

“I don’t want to,” I told her.  “I want to bleed.” 

Chapter Thirty-Three

Family Meeting

Melanie demanded a family meeting. 

Technically, we hadn’t been a family for ten years.  Well, we had been, via long distance.  I received the text from Mel the next morning.  A few minutes later, Madeline stepped into my lab, uncomfortable, holding up her cell phone. 

“I don’t want to do this,” she told me.  “She wants it right away.”

“She saw Phyllis with me last night.  Sorry.  I was in shock, I guess.  Should have told you.” 

“No, you didn’t have to.  We’re divorced.  And I already knew.”  I looked at her.  “How you were acting the last few weeks.  I know when you’re…having sex.  Regularly, anyway.” 

Hmmm.  “So where?  The house?”

“That where she saw Phyllis?”  I nodded.  “No.  Too many memories, anyway.” 

“Your apartment?”

“No way.” 

A restaurant was too public.  After discussion, we settled on a bench in a quiet place in a quiet park.  That was safest.  We hoped it would not rain. 

It rained. 

Madeline and I found the designated bench under the designated tree.  It was a gray, miserable afternoon, fitting both our moods.

“I’d rather put this off,” I said. 

“She’s our child.  She moved out last night.  Moved out.  We argued about you know what, and she moved out.  That hurt, Mike.” 

“Sorry.” 

We waited in the rain.  I was genuinely sorry for messing up Madeline’s situation with our daughter.  Madeline deserved better.  I cared about her, I cared about Melanie.  I did.  It was important they respect me.  Within a minute I went from hero to zero.  I felt no angry.  I felt guilt.  

We saw Melanie appear down the path, walking slowly until she saw us.  Then she stopped, looked at us, then walked determined to us.  Then she stopped a few feet away, looked at us on the bench, pulled out a small folding chair and sat.  Then she pulled out an umbrella and opened it up. 

It was sort of performance art.  It was Mel.  She could be…dramatic.

I imagine most parents have been through something similar.  Children need to be independent.  Melanie was certainly her own self. 

We both waited. 

“Well, okay, I called the chat,” she finally said.  “I know this is awkward.  But no more awkward than last night.  Dad, apologies.  I shouldn’t have driven off.”

I shrugged.  “You were upset.” 

“Yeah, but so were you.  Mom?  You said last night you knew?”

“Your father is entitled to his own life.  Honey, we’re divorced.  Remember, I moved out.” 

“Not far.” 

“You’re not being fair.  You’re angry.  I understand.”

“You’re alone.  He isn’t.  That doesn’t feel fair.  And you accepting it.  I’m not sorry I moved out.  It’s better for both of us.” 

Madeline sighed.  “It’s good to be honest, dear, but you don’t have to go overboard.” 

“And he’s got this Phyllis.” 

“Phyllis just happened, Mel,” I told her.  “I feels serious.  I couldn’t be alone.  It had been a long time.”  That was partly true.  There was no point mentioning I’d used Phyllis as an escort for a year.  No point going overboard. 

“I prefer being alone, honey,” Madeline said.  And then added, “Phyllis is good for your dad.  Don’t you want what’s good for him?  Isn’t he going through enough?” 

Melanie thought about it.  “So where do we go from here?” 

“We keep caring about each other,” I told her.  “Honey, it kills me I’ve hurt you.  Never wanted it to happen.  That’s why I never told you.”  She grunted.  “I’m dealing with the serum and work and anger.  Life’s complicated these days.  Remember.  I’m your father.  I’ll always be your father.  We have to keep talking.” 

Finally, she said quietly, “Yeah, sure.” 

We walked together out of the park, then went our separate ways. 

Chapter Thirty-Four

The Burning Man

Phyllis was packing a bag when I came home.  “Assignment,” she said. 

“It can wait.  We have to talk.” 

She paused, holding a blouse.  “What?  The talk?” 

“No, about honesty.” 

“Oh,” she said.  “That talk.”  She put the blouse in the bag.  “How was the family chat?  That bad?” 

“Tough enough.  But it left me feeling if I cared more, I would be honest more.  Or something.  I’m confused.  Mel walked out on both of us, because of me.  Where are you going?” 

“There’s a problem at one of the research bases.” 

I didn’t think about it.  “I’m going with you.” 

“They’re not expecting you.  Breach of confidentiality.”

“They know we live together, yes?  Is it about another test subject?”  She nodded.  “Then I’m the best person to go with you.” 

We both packed bags and drove off in her car to a military base, where we caught a chopper.  Three-hour flight.  First we saw black smoke.  We landed in one of the most remote research bases.  I’d heard about it, that’s all.  I didn’t know any of the researchers there.

Several officers met us as we stepped off the chopper.  There was thick smoke, part of a building was blazing.  Fire workers with hoses sprayed it down with little effect. 

“It’s Lieutenant Irwin,” one told us.  “They gave him the serum and he’s out of control.”  He filled in the blanks as we walked into a building.  Irwin was an officer who’d been flagged by Dr. Orwell.  A researcher took that as permission to give her version of the serum to him.  We met the base commander in his office. 

“Who’s this?” he demanded, looking at me. 

I transformed, my clothing shredding, and snarled. 

“Oh,” he said.  “I see.  Fine.”  He looked at Phyllis.  “He’s in that burning building.  I don’t know for how long before it collapses.  We have to at least get him out of there.  If possible, give him the antidote.”  He pointed to a filled hypodermic on his desk. 

Phyllis nodded.  “The short version?” 

He led us to a window so we could look at the burning building.  “That’s where we do our tests.  The researcher thought Dr. Orwell had given a go ahead.  I checked.  She hadn’t, just agreed to a third analysis.” 

“And Lieutenant Irwin?” Phyllis asked. 

“He burst into flame.  We’re looking for anger and Peter has it in spades.  Created serious problems with his career, denied promotion several times after borderline rage incidents.” 

“Can he control it?” I asked. 

The commander looked at me.  “You see the fire?  He transformed and there was chaos.  All five men in the room with him are dead.” 

“Dead?” Phyllis asked. 

“Burned to death.  Accident.  Not on purpose.” 

“The antidote?” I growled.  The commander held up the syringe and Phyllis took it.  Then she put on a shoulder holster from her bag and fit a large pistol into it, the safety clicked off.  From the commander she took a long gun. 

“Those won’t do any good,” the commander told her.

She looked at me and we left, Phyllis leading the way, me loping just behind her. 

We entered the side of the building not yet on fire.  Inside the smoke was not yet as bad.  We were in a hallway.  The room we sought as at the other end.  Through an open doorway, we saw flames. 

We approached the room and saw Lieutenant Irwin, on fire.  Literally.  His skin was flames.  His anger had emerged as a different kind of monster.  He turned to us, holding out his hands.  I looked up.  The ceiling was close to collapse.  Flames covering the walls had reached it.  He saw us and stopped, his large eyes bright burning holes. 

He focussed on me.  I held up a claw.  “Yes.  I also was given the serum.” 

He tried to talk.  Flames shot out of his mouth. 

I moved closer to him, the heat uncomfortable.  “It can be hard for me to talk.  You?”  He shook his head.  “You can understand me though?”  He nodded.  “I’ve been through this.  We have an antidote.  It’ll work.” 

He breathed heavily.  “Can’t do this,” he finally managed.    

“We should get out of here,” I told him.  “The building will collapse on us.  Follow us.  Remember, I’m one of you.”  I started to back away.  He slowly followed, leaving burning footprints. 

With Phyllis in front, we left the room and into the hallway.  Behind us, the ceiling collapsed and the room was enveloped in bright red and yellow flames. 

We quickly led him through the hallway and outside.  We got far enough from the building for it to no longer be a danger.  Irwin was staggering.  He leaned against a mental post which quickly began to blister and melt. 

“My anger comes out like this, a beast” I told him.  “Yours is rage, so you’re all flames.” 

“I have the antidote,” Phyllis said.  She looked at me.  The syringe will melt before I can use it.” 

I looked at the burning man.  I wanted to hold him but that was impossible.  “You have to focus.  We can get you out of this.” 

His eyes were deep flames.  With obvious effort, he grunted out, “I…am…so…pissed.”  The pole melted through and toppled.  He staggered, struggling to keep his balance. 

“Focus.  Focus on your arm,” I told him.  “Create one clear patch.” 

He closed his eyes, hands becoming fists.  “Can feel it the rage.  Burning inside me.  What a mistake!” 

“Focus on your arm.  Remember.  I can control my anger.  You can.  Concentrate.” 

I could see his flaming forehead frown.  He held out his right arm, staring at it. 

“All we need is one patch of your skin that’s clear.” 

We heard him grunt as he fell to his knees, burning alive.  A patch of skin appeared on his arm, clear of flames.  Phyllis plunged the hypo into him, then the antidote.  Burned, she jumped back, the hypo falling to the floor and breaking. 

He stared at his arm, not moving.  Frozen not quite the proper word.  The flames died as the serum began to work.  In a few moments a naked, covered with grit, skin smoking Lieutenant Irwin fell unconscious to the ground. 

We called the medics and followed him to the base surgery.  After about half an hour, he woke as we stood around his bed.  His skin looked normal, there were no scars.  He looked at me and said “Thanks.” 

“Welcome to the club.” 

“What’s next?” 

“I haven’t looked at the serum or antidote.  My guess?  The flames will return.  You got to learn to chill.” 

“We have more antidote,” one of the attending doctors said. 

“More antidotes.  Great,” Lieutenant Irwin said, quietly.  “Never should have done this.  Thought I had no choice.” 

I said to him, quietly, “Ditto.”

“How do you live with it?”

“One day at a time.” 

The antidote only worked temporarily.  Irwin needed a lifetime fix to fix his life.  I knew I was not over with him.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Work Relationships

“Going up there without my permission was a betrayal,” Pinetree snapped.  “How could you do it?  What the hell were you thinking?”

We were in her office, sitting in front of her desk, Pinetree behind it.  Dr. Orwell sat to one side.

“It was my idea,” I blurted out.  “I’m responsible.” 

“You are both responsible.  I trusted both of you.”  Emotionally she was shouting even if her voice was controlled.  She looked at Phyllis.  “Especially you.” 

“General, I agreed to it.  Yes, I should have contacted you for permission but it was an emergency.  I was ordered there asap.  Mike thought he could help and he did.  No one else could have reached that guy.  Now he’s no longer burning and still alive.” 

She glared at Phyllis.  “Who cares?  This is about trust.”  She stood, pacing.  I had never seen her like this.  “I work hard.  I’ve cut both of you slack.  I hoped I’d earned your trust.”  She looked at us.  “Have I ever lied to you?”

We both looked back. 

“Well, okay,” she admitted.  “Part of the job.  But not about anything I was at liberty to tell you.”  I saw her hands tremble.  “You took off and let him show himself.” 

“It was only at a base,” Phyllis told her. 

“The man’s still alive,” I added.  “The only other test subject who’s taken a serum.  Only him and me.” 

She sighed, returned to her chair and poured a cup of tea for herself from the pot on her desk.  She did not drink any. 

“It will never happen again,” Phyllis said. 

“Yeah,” I agreed. 

Pinetree mumbled something to herself.

“Sometimes I hate being a manager,” Pinetree finally said.  She sipped a little tea. 

“It made me happy,” I told her.  “You want me to be happy.” 

“Not that much.”   She looked at Dr. Orwell.  “You happy?” 

“I’m…distressed,” Orwell replied.  “Lieutenant Irwin was only a possibility.  I told them that, that I wanted further tests.  Now a lot of the other candidates are off the list.  We’re almost back to square one. 

“Right now, we are all being…emotional.  Given events, it is understandable.  The stress is enormous on everyone.  General, I appreciate your concerns.  But are you being fair?” 

“Fair?” Pinetree shot back abruptly.  “Why should I be fair?”

“It’s how you became a General,” Dr. Orwell told her. 

“Generals become Generals by getting results.  The results so far are death, abuse, rebellion, betrayal.” 

I had never seen her like this.  Probably no one had.  “How the hell,” she flared at Orwell, “did they think they had the green light?” 

Orwell remained poised.  “I told them he’d passed the first two swipes.  But I wanted to a third.  They were eager, I thought I argued them out of it.” 

Pinetree glared at her.  “I guess you were wrong, doctor.” 

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” she replied.  She subtly adjusted her glasses.  “There is too much pressure.  On the researchers.  On us.  On you.”

She looked at both Orwell and Phyllis.  “Can you tell me where that pressure is coming from?”  Orwell and Phyllis looked at each other.  “Well?” she demanded.   

Phyllis spoke up.  “You know there’s at least one person at the cabinet level.  There are others, outside government.  You know what I know, General.” 

“Do I?  What about you?” she asked Orwell.  “Want to tell me about the resistance?” 

It was very awkward.  I thought I heard footsteps outside, it was so deadly quiet.   

“General,” Orwell, said, adjusting her glasses again, “We need a safety valve.  Something to let the pressure out.  Something to give us all a chance to breathe.  What you call the resistance is a natural reaction to our work here.” 

“You all think I don’t know,” Pinetree snapped.  “I know plenty.  I just can’t do anything about it.  None of it.”  She looked at us.  “Thanks for listening.  Thanks for the talk.”  She looked down, at her desk.  “Get out.” 

Phyllis, Orwell and I left.  We stood outside her closed door.  “It’s falling apart,” I said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Phyllis agreed. 

“My office,” Orwell said. 

We followed her to her office, closing the door behind us. 

“Pinetree knows about the resistance,” Phyllis said as we sat. 

“Of course she does,” Orwell said.  She took off her glasses and polished the lenses.  “She hasn’t done anything because it wouldn’t make any difference.” 

There was a pause.  “Maybe it should fall apart,” I finally said.  They both nodded.  “So,” I added, “what safety valve will work?  For her, for us?” 

We split up and asked staff what they thought might work to improve morale.  The result, two days later, was a talent show. 

It was in the cafeteria, the only room large enough.  Everyone had a skit about work.  Phyllis tap danced around everyone and made jokes.  I transformed and juggled dishes, most of which broke.  General Pinetree revealed ventriloquism skills with a puppet dressed like a researcher—sitting on her knee, the puppet kept interrupting her and doing what it wanted. 

The room grew progressively more relaxed and soon people were laughing and applauding.  For a couple of hours, work was ridiculed and stress celebrated. 

Next day, morale was as bad.  But at the afternoon staff meeting, Pinetree brought out her dummy and managed a few solid laughs. 

Meanwhile, I could not forget Lieutenant Irwin.  I worked on a different type of antidote.  Madeline helped.  After a week, I told Pinetree I had developed something and wanted to try it out.  The burning man remained confined, at his base.  I’d accessed the research and formula used on him.  The new type of antidote would not only stop a transformation but prevent it–permanently.  My hope was that if it worked, Lieutenant Irwin would return to being normal.  His anger might not be cured but his flames could be doused. 

I worked on that antidote because the poor fellow was so screwed up.  His life had become grotesque.  It was in my power to try and find a cure.  I had already started the research, looking for a permanent antidote for myself.  I stopped it, unsure of whether I even wanted a permanent antidote.  For Irwin, I restarted.  I’d been deeply troubled by him from day one, and on day two began looking into what might cure him.  Perhaps I was so troubled because he reminded me of me. 

Pinetree agreed it was worth a shot.  Her permission secured, I would return to the man’s base, with Phyllis.  Phyllis was ready to meet me at the airfield.  We stepped aboard, well aware of the stakes. 

It was a long chopper ride to the remote base. 

We landed, were met by an officer who took us to the commander.  The burned building was covered with plywood.  The air stank.  No one looked business as usual. 

We met with the base commander first, who updated us on the reports we’d be sent.  Lieutenant Irwin was kept sedated in a fireproof room. 

“I have to speak to him clear headed,” I told the commander.  “I want his informed consent on the antidote I’ve prepared.” 

The commander looked puzzled.  “Just shoot it in him.”

I shook my head.  “His conscious has to be involved.  How long will it take to clear his head enough?” 

The commander considered.  “With meds, a couple of hours.  I’ll get the doctors on it.” 

“Thanks.  In the meantime,” I told him, “I’d like to meet the scientists who developed his serum.” 

During all this, Phyllis watched.  We’d discussed me taking the lead and her observing.  When you are in the middle of something, you cannot see everything.    

“You already read their research,” he countered. 

“I want to know what they were thinking,” I told him.  He nodded and had an officer take us to the scientists. 

As we were led along, Phyllis said quietly to me, “Defensive.  Hiding something.”

“Probably that he gave the go ahead,” I replied.  “He looks like he’s eager for success.”    

We were led to a lab on the second floor of the building, where a man and a woman waited, the lead scientist and her assistant.  She was tall with dark hair, he was a bit shorter and blonde.  They both wore lab coats and anxious faces.    

“Don’t worry,” I told them.  “We’re not investigating.  You know who I am?”  They nodded.  “Good.  I’m here to help, that’s all.  I have developed a new type of antidote.” 

“Fine,” she said.  “What do you want from us?”  Nervous.   

“He’s full of rage.  His profile isn’t very helpful, except for listing incidents.  Any idea where the rage comes from?  Any idea why it is rage?” 

She took a long breath, then launched into what sounded like a prepared speech.  “No.  He’s always on a slow boil.  There was nothing special in his childhood.  He seems born this way. 

“He joined the Army to channel his rage.  It worked to a point, he’s competent but not promotable.  He begged us to use him as a test subject.  Begged me, for a week.  Over and over.  He volunteered, knew the risks.  So I gave in.  After I got a green light.” 

“You don’t have to talk about that,” I told her. 

“No one predicted he would turn into uncontrollable fire.  You control yourself.  But it was unstoppable.  Since you were here, he’s burst into flames three more times.  The antidote is less effective each time we use it.  The rage is consuming him. 

“If you can do something, fabulous.  Otherwise, he’s doomed.  I’m sorry.  Of course, I accept full responsibility.” 

No, she would dodge responsibility as if it was a car racing to run her over.  “Thanks.  It was very helpful.  So you worked to transform his rage, his rage came out as flames.” 

“I don’t understand why he became flames and you become that wolf thing?” 

“My anger is different than rage,” I told her. 

After more talk, we left them knowing we cared zero about the green light.  The scientist was obviously worried about a future investigation.  I assured her we did not care and would talk to Pinetree about it being a misunderstanding.  It was important to reassure her.  We had to work together.  Also, I knew where she was.  I kind of cared.    

However, I did not ask about their families or feelings.  I mean, really.

An officer led us to the clinic, where we met two doctors.  Lieutenant Irwin would be ready to talk with us shortly.  Phyllis and I sat to one side and waited, alone for a few moments. 

“Obviously, they’re all worried about the green light and harming their careers,” Phyllis said quietly.  “Like the other researchers, they were stumbling along, hoping for the best.” 

“Don’t care,” I told her.  “The issue is on the other side of that door.  I can control my anger.  Maybe it’s the serum, more likely it’s the nature of my anger.  It comes out only occasionally, triggered.  His is constant.  Different, deeper.  He struggled to fit into an ordered society like the Army, even though it provided control and clear rules.” 

The doctors opened the door.  One gave me an empty syringe.  We stepped inside.  Lieutenant Irwin was sitting up on a bed, looking bleary. 

“Remember us?” I asked. 

He shook his head.  I took off my clothing and transformed, staring at him in what I tried to make a friendly face.  I think lifting my eyebrow helped.  “Oh yeah,” he finally said.  “You.  Thanks.” 

“How’s it been?” I asked. 

“Rough.  I try to stop and flame back on.  They’ve had me doped up, hard to think.” 

I transformed back, pulling on my clothes while explaining the concept of my antidote—that it was intended to be a permanent fix.  He would never flame on again, never have to worry about control.  “It won’t fix your rage, though.  At least, I don’t think so.  But I hope it will end the transformations.” 

He replied, “Do it.  Can’t be worse than now.  Man, seeing my rage, being it, that’s turned me around.  Nothing like seeing yourself in flames burning everything and everyone around you.  I’ve been trying to confront it ever since.  That’s why I keep flaming on.” 

What he was experiencing was exactly what I hoped would happen to me. 

Physically confront your anger, get smart, turn your life around.  For a moment I looked at him, nothing to say.  I was jealous. 

“Give him the shot,” Phyllis said. 

“You understand, who knows?” I said to him. 

“Do it.” 

I took the antidote from my pocket.  It was a small vial full of orange liquid.  I filled the syringe, stuck it in his arm and pushed the plunger.  We all watched the orange serum vanish into him.  Then I pulled back the syringe. 

He saw us stand by his bedside, waiting. 

“You’re not getting out?” 

“We’re here with you,” I told him.  “I feel like we’re in this together, Lieutenant.” 

He was about to reply when he blinked, stiffened, then sort of softened.  He let out a long breath.  Lifting his hands, he looked at them. 

“What are you feeling?” I asked. 

“Peace,” he replied. 

We waited, standing by the bed.  He visibly relaxed, pushing himself up so he wouldn’t slip down.  He started to tremble.

I was alarmed.  “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling.  “I’m not dissolving or anything.  I’m feeling myself, for the first time.  The rage is gone.” 

“All gone?” Phyllis asked, looking at him carefully. 

“Who knows?  Never felt like this.” 

I was worried he might dissolve into inertia or a puddle or something.  His body appeared stable.  “Do you want to do anything?” 

He smiled.  “Oh yeah.  There’s a list, starting with a promotion.  A partner.  A life.”  He sat up more, pushing himself.  “Thank you.  I can’t say it enough.” 

“We have to wait.  Make certain it works.” 

“Can you get me a phone?  I need to make some calls.” 

Chapter Thirty-Six

Success Multiplied!

After the new antidote’s success with Irwin I was excited.  I developed a plan.  Probably I should have waited, to determine whether the antidote truly lasted—but waiting did not feel like an option.  I had to act.  Do something.  I was the only one who could change my research base, the only one.  I felt a responsibility. 

It was part of my cure.  It was part of caring about other people, even if they were a pain in the butt.

I had a long talk with Pinetree.  My plan involved improving morale.  Pulling us together as a team.  If we found a way to work together, overcome our differences, it would make us more like a family.  And then, eventually, I could bring them all into the resistance and end the brutal nature of our work forever.

She accepted my idea and called a staff meeting for that afternoon. 

I looked at the glum faces of my colleagues as they walked in.  By now they expected the worst.  Some looked to see if Pinetree had brought her dummy.  Others looked for dainties.  Today, neither dummy nor dainties.  Just me. 

Pinetree told them, “Mike’s come up with an excellent idea.  He’ll fill you in.”  And she handed it over to me.  I looked at them.  They were not expecting much.  Madeline smiled. 

I never thought I was good at public presentations, but today I felt an urgency, a need.  I took a long breath as they waited expectantly.  Before anyone could look at their watch, I began.  “Here’s the deal.  You all know it.  Our work is in a bad place.  Suspended indefinitely, except for theoretical work.  We’re treading water.” 

A few nods. 

“Except for me, the transformations so far have failed.  Two of our colleagues are irretrievable.  Armstrong and Mark seem equally past hope.  But there is hope.  Dim the lights and I’ll show you.” 

Pinetree, standing by the light switches, turned the room dark.  I turned on my notebook and the video projector threw my power point presentation onto a large screen always pulled down.  Phyllis did the power point, I’m hopeless at that.  I questioned whether it was necessary but she said visual aides are important.    

The first image was Lieutenant Irwin, burning.

“You’re looking at Test Subject A.  Two weeks ago, I flew up to one of our more remote research bases.  Our colleagues there believed they had clearance to proceed.  They did not, but that is not important. 

“Subject A was chosen because he was always in a simmering rage that often boiled over.  When he was injected with a serum, he transformed into what you see here.  His rage turned into flames.” 

I then changed the slide to show the building burning.  “He had no control.  Fury was everything.”  The next slide showed me, transformed, and Phyllis talking with him.  “I transformed.  That helped get him out of the building.  Talking with him enabled him to cool out enough so he created a small patch of nonburning skin, so we could inject him.”  The next slide showed him naked, us holding him up. 

“His rage, however, continued to emerge, with no control.  He did not want it.  Changing and seeing himself helped him to confront his rage.  Last week, I returned to him.  I had developed an antidote.  Not our usual type.  This antidote is designed to permanently end transformations.  Permanently. 

“A week ago, I injected Subject A with the new type of antidote.”  The slide showed him in bed, me injecting him.  He was smiling.  “Today, Test Subject A is fully restored.  To date he has not transformed and is eager to start a new life.” 

I turned off the power point.  Pinetree switched the lights back on. 

“He said at the time the antidote worked,” I told them.  “He also said he understood himself better and had plans to change.  That was, again, last week.  Today I zoomed with him.  He continues to be stable, has been released from confinement and is back at work.  Subject A is a Lieutenant on that base.” 

I totally had their attention. 

“But it is more than a new antidote to prevent future test disasters.  I believe Armstrong and Mark are not dead.  They are frozen.  Waiting for us to come up with a solution.  And we can. I believe that my new type of antidote can be adapted.  I think that underneath, they are still alive.  I think my new antidote is a start towards restoring them.

“Before this meeting, I emailed all of you the data on my new approach.  If we work together, between all of us it should not take much time to figure out how to adapt my antidote to use on our colleagues.  Together, we can bring them back.” 

They stood and applauded.  It was wonderful. 

The next days were exciting.  I chatted with colleagues who signed the letter demanding I be fired only a month or so ago.  We bounced ideas back and forth, had energizing discussions over lunch in the cafeteria.  Madeline was very involved, excited about doing something positive.  I enjoyed it all and did not either feel angry, nor did I miss transforming. 

Better, most people now treated me as an equal.  That is, they liked me a lot more, as if I was one of them. 

It took four days for two teams, me leading one and Madeline the other, to develop antidotes we hoped were specific for each man.  The marble statue that was Mark and the framed poster that was Armstrong were brought into the test lab.  We did not use the cage but stood Mark in the centre of the room, while Armstrong was deframed and held by wires from the ceiling. 

I injected my team’s blue antidote into Armstrong.  The poster was thick so it was not too difficult.  For Mark, who was not injectable, Madeline poured her team’s orange antidote into his open mouth, slowly, so it all went down. 

“This could take a while,” I told everyone.  “This is a first.  We’ll have to wait.” 

We waited five minutes.  They were the longest five minutes of my life.  I kept looking at them, at my watch, back at them.  Hoping for something.  After three minutes, anything,.  By five minutes, hope was starting to slide away, a defensive numbness setting in. 

Then Mark coughed.  His marble skin began to soften.  As he continued, Armstrong flapped on his clippers, the poster rattling.  His face was shrinking, pulling together as he began to change.  His transformation was the first to complete.  He stood naked and woozy but was back to being alive and himself—although he looked subdued and quite unconfident. 

Mark finished shortly after, perhaps his marbleized body took more work.  But then he also stood naked and restored.  We gave them both robes. 

“I really screwed up,” Mark told us. 

“I should have listened,” Armstrong added.  “We both blew it.” 

“How do you feel?” I asked them. 

“It’s all gone,” Armstrong told me.  “I don’t feel it within me at all.  But I’m not very confident.  I feel different.  But alive is good.” 

“Agreed,” Mark added.  “It will take a while to sort out.  I was pretty stupid.  I think I can figure out why but yes, alive is good.” 

“Yes,” Armstrong agreed.  “I’m growing confident we can sort this out.” 

“We can work together,” Mark told him, “although I’m feeling more certain I can do it on my own.” 

Mark and Armstrong were alive and quickly back to normal but, I hoped, chastened. 

For all of us, it was a profound moment.  They literally were brought back from the dead by our combined work.  In that room we all shared what had to be one of the best moments in any of our lives.  We were a team.  Morale was high. 

I was on a roll.  What should be next?  The answer was obvious.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Meeting At Least

I had to restore something resembling normal relations with Melanie–even though our normal relations were awful.  There had been a breakthrough—I did not want the walls to return.  The damage had to be repaired.  Even Madeline was talking to me. 

She and I went to dinner together (when I asked.)  Phyllis, at Madeline’s request, joined us.  Phyllis told me it was good Madeline wanted her there.  I agreed but worried it would be awkward. 

They did not argue.  They seemed to hit it off immediately and had fun laughing about me and my eccentricities.  Each finished a glass of wine before we even ordered. 

Previously, I would have gotten upset, then angry.  Now I laughed with them—at least, some of the time.  Often I was not in on the joke but that felt okay—at least, some of the time.  Some of the time is better than none of the time.

“And what did he say then?” Madeline asked. 

“What do you think?” Phyllis replied and they both laughed. 

“I think we should call Mel and see if she’ll join us,” Madeline announced.  “Mike and I agree we still have baggage to open.  She should meet you.  Okay?”  Phyllis nodded and I mumbled.  Madeline phoned and Mel was there before dinner arrived.  She had never rushed to be with us before. 

She entered guarded, but saw her mom laughing, so she sat gingerly, then looked at Phyllis. 

“We’ve met,” Phyllis told her. 

“I remember,” Mel said warily.  She looked at her mom, smiling, then back at Phyllis.  “So.”

“So?”

“I never asked how you met my dad met,” Mel said, adding sarcastically, “Was it a meet cute?” 

“I’m a spy,” Phyllis replied.  “A ghost.  Your dad was an assignment.  Routine surveillance.  Including sex.”  She sipped some wine.  “We started about a year ago.  I pretended I was from an escort service, though he never quite believed it.”    

Mel blinked.  “Sounds like performance art.” 

“Yes, but for real.  I’ve been different people, for months at a time.” 

I poured Mel a glass of wine and she took it. 

Finally, she said, “Wow,” she said.  “That is so cool.  Did you go to school for it?”

Phyllis shrugged.  “School of hard knocks.” 

“What kind of wigs do you use?”

Madeline asked Phyllis about her work and emotional attachments.  “Until Mike, I never had any.  We connected on a deep level from the start.” 

We had?

Dinner arrived and we ate and I mostly listened to them gossip and chat.  It was hard getting a word in.  Normally, that would have gotten me angry.  Now, I enjoyed just listening because they were getting to know each other, liked each other, learning they had a lot in common—at least, besides me. 

Mel appeared satisfied her mom was happy—if lonely–and more than okay with Phyllis.  Mel seemed to think my relationship with Phyllis further freed her mom from me.  She knew her mom cared deeply about me and would be unable to get on with her life until I was okay.  To date, I had never been okay.  I could see in Mel’s face she thought Phyllis was a big step forward for her mom. 

Better, Mel warmed to Phyllis, exchanging makeup tips and what to observe in people.  It was the best dinner I’d ever had, except for the one where I proposed to Madeline. 

The new chapter in my life was going great.  There remained threads to wrap up, very big ones.  I brought them up during desert.  None of us had any idea what to do because none of us knew what would happen next with the research, the transformations, me. 

“Dad,” Mel asked as I paid the cheque, “are you developing an antidote for you?  To permanently stop you from transforming?” 

I put the credit card back in my wallet.  “I already have one.  But I won’t take it.  Not yet.  I’m not done yet.” 

“Why not?”

“Still have some anger issues,” I told her.  “And I don’t know where my future is going.  Being able to be transformed keeps me stable at work.”

Madeline gave Mel a lift to where Mel was staying.  Phyllis and I went home.  We brushed our teeth and then lay together in the bedroom, the TV on TCM, watching The Wolfman, halfway through.  Lon Chaney was already cursed.  “Oh God,” I said, “not another documentary.” 

We kissed. 

“Want me to change?” I asked.  “Go all hairy?” 

“Tonight, I like you just as you are.” 

It was our own naked bodies against each other.  The movie faded into the background as we tumbled eagerly into another world. 

After, lying together, I thought of Madeline and hoped she would find some peace. 

It was all going to work out.  Mel at least was not an enemy.  Madeline was at least not unhappy.  The research programme was in a shambles and at least likely to be cancelled.  Ending the destructive work I was involved in was at least well underway.  And my anger had become the least of it. 

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Pinetree Email

I am pleased to announce we are able to resume active tests of new serums. 

This is possible because of a new antidote.  It reverses transformations completely, permanently restoring the test subject to their normal selves.

Working as a team, based on the first antidote, used on Subject A, new applications were created.  Two of our colleagues, as you are aware, have now been fully restored.  The third person, Subject A, given the original antidote, remains stable.    The danger to test subjects appears to have been finally eliminated.

Given that, I have been instructed to give a green light to proceed.  I note we will no longer use our own staff researchers as volunteers but will work from a list being prepared by Dr. Orwell. 

Staff working as a team made this wonderful turnaround possible!

Chapter Thirty-Nine

From Bad To Worse…Of Course

The other researchers were thrilled to fully return to their work.  While we were no longer quite a team, each researcher working on separate projects, now they eagerly collaborated and traded information.  They had truly become a work family, a family I’d played a key role in creating–only it was a family I did not want any part of. 

It was kinda ironic. 

I knew I had to change the situation but had no idea how.  The work had taken on a life of its own.  I was a success story.  The government wanted more.  The new type of antidote had created exactly the administrative escape valve my team wanted.  Lieutenant Irwin’s ongoing stability, Mark and Armstrong being restored and working again was all the proof they needed. 

Fred was particularly cheerful.  “This is great!  I’ve developed a terrific new serum and all I need is a volunteer!  Not me, of course.” 

Of course. 

“I have to wait for a volunteer,” he added, but I’ve been sharing notes and I think we’re all on the right track.  Once I have the volunteer, I can fine tune the serum to him.  Have to know him before I can finish, eh?” 

Of all the researchers, only Madeline was upset.  We chatted in her lab.  She did not ask her assistant to leave.  “I’m sorry about Irwin, of course—but in hindsight, it’s horrifyingly clear.  You should never have developed that new antidote.  It helped Irwin but ruined everything.  It’s gone from bad to worse.”

“I cared about him.”

“You cared too much.” 

Cared too much?  My problem was I did not care enough.  I had gone the extra mile for Irwin.  It was all very confusing. 

How could the best intentions have gone so badly off course?  The answer was obvious.  I had not thought through the impact of the antidote.  It was good to care so much.  My mistake had been telling anyone about the antidote.  If I had kept it a secret, and told everyone Irwin’s remission was a fluke, the research programme would still be a mess. 

But I wanted to care about my colleagues.  To do that, I wanted them to be a team, a family.  Maybe I should focus on caring about only a few people at a time.    

At the next staff meeting, Pinetree brought along her dummy.  Sitting on her knee, the dummy cracked jokes about our work and progress.  “A dummy with a headful of wood could do better!”  People laughed.  “Now splinter off and get back to work!”  They laughed more.  “I would if I could but I’m wood!” 

I wanted them happy, content even, not laughing.  Not about their destructive, dangerous work.   I chatted with Madeline in her lab.  She again let her assistant stay.  “They were on track to be off track,” I told Madeline.  “Now they’re all the little engine who could, chugging up the mountain.” 

“I have no idea what to suggest,” she told me. 

I replied, “We have to work together.  To come up with something before it’s too late.”  She agreed.  Madeline and I working together to unravel work would be great. 

As I started to leave, Madeline said, “Mike.  Something to tell you.  Anna and I”—she motioned towards her assistant, a woman about her age— “are a thing.  I thought you should know.” 

Anna looked at me and smiled. 

“That’s nice,” I managed and walked away trying to smile.  Everything was suddenly unravelling. 

Dr. Orwell came into my office as I hung up after speaking with Phyllis, she would be home that night.  Good.  I so needed to talk.  “It’s gone from bad to worse,” she began. 

I nodded. 

“Researchers have started up everywhere.  Eager, after all the delays.  They have a green light.  I’m under a lot of pressure to provide that short list of volunteers.” 

“How are you doing?”

“The short list?  It’ll be around eleven.  Pinetree told me another is coming in.” 

“No.  I meant you.” 

“I’ve been worse,” she said, trying to be comforting.  But added, “Although I can’t remember anything worse than this.” 

“My morale ain’t high.” 

“Same here.”

“I talked with Madeline.  We’re up for brainstorming a solution.  Maybe the three of us can meet tomorrow?” 

“What can you do?”

“Maybe we can throw the researchers off with bad data.  We have to do something.” 

As I was packing to go home, more depressed than ever, Fred dropped in, cheerful. 

“Gotta say again, your data and notes are super helpful,” he told me.  “Really appreciate it.” 

“Great,” I told him.  “What are you going for?”  

“You’re our role model.  A beast.  Powerful but controlled.”

“You think your serum will do that?”

“It’ll be a totally useful tool,” he replied.  “Again, you worked out great.  All we have to do is find a volunteer with the proper emotional mind set, fine tune the serum to it, and off we go!  What do you think?”

I thought he was a totally useful tool but chose discretion.  “I hope it works but you know it’s all really a crap shoot.” 

He ignored that and took some candy from the jar on my desk. 

When I got home—only a handful of reporters by now—Phyllis sat in the kitchen, nursing a scotch. 

“It’s gone from bad to worse,” she told me. 

I pulled a glass from the cupboard and joined her at the kitchen table.  I looked at her.  “What?” 

“Pinetree called today.  She told me someone thought I would be an ideal test subject.”  She sipped at her drink.  “Apparently, I’ve volunteered.”    

I drank mine in a gulp.  “For God’s sake, why?”

She shrugged.  “I’ve been an agent for decades.  I’ve killed.  I can totally control myself.  And they seem to think deep inside I’m pretty angry.” 

“Will you let them do it?” 

“Well, I have my orders.  And no escape routes.”  She finished her drink, poured another, topped mine up.  “Jury’s out but the decision’s really in.” 

“When?”

“When Orwell completes her list, I guess.  She already had my psychological profiles on file.”

How could it have gone from great to horrible so quickly? 

The answer was easy: me, of course. 

Chapter Forty

Building A Team

I woke determined.  There was plenty on my plate.  Let’s see what I could gobble up. 

Phyllis was depressed.  I told her I had a plan.  I would offer to develop her serum.  Tragically, it would fail and nothing would happen to her.  The serum I planned was orange juice.  I assumed Dr. Orwell would help.  We agreed it was worth a shot and we left to our work in our cars, both feeling better. 

I sure felt better.  Getting Phyllis out of her trap was a great start. 

On the drive in, I asked Melanie to meet me in my office asap.  I think I woke her.  She agreed to be in by ten.  I thought that was also a great start. 

My assistant was nowhere to be seen in my lab, which was also good.  She never liked me and in the past I’d worked hard to control my anger around her.  A couple of days ago she’d agreed to move over and work with Fred—just on loan, of course.  I did not trust her and it was better she does not see me too close the next few days..

Mel arrived at ten, looking as if she had just woken, still drinking a mug of coffee.  But she said “Hello” as she slumped into a chair.  After the dinner she apparently had shifted back and into her not liking me but accepting me and conflicted about all if it.  At last, I hoped she was conflicted.  “What’s the deal?  Why the call?” 

“I want you to check out the staff here and give me some advice.” 

“About what?  I don’t know anything about your work.” 

“It isn’t about the work, it’s the people,” I told her.  “I want to figure out how to manipulate them.  To stop them doing their work.” 

“How can I help with that?”

“I don’t know, but here’s the thing.  You’re a performance artist.  You not only create art, you perform it for an audience.  That takes a big ego.  The work here gets done by big egos.” 

She laughed.  “So you want me to figure out how to stick pins in them?  Deflate them?” 

“Mom and I need all the help we can get.” 

“She’s in this too?”

“Of course.” 

We actually chatted a while, about her work, and then, holding a fresh cup of coffee, she went with me around the Social Media Academy.  I introduced her as my daughter and that I was showing her my work, given she knew about my personal transformations.  Most of them were quite polite and talked to her as much about their work as they could.  It took a couple of hours before we were back in my lab. 

“So?”

“Well, they all have huge egos, as you said,” she told me.  “The best way to puncture a big ego is criticism and humiliation, publicly.”

“I’ve done that before and they all hated me for it.  I’ve gotten to the point where they might almost like me.  And I want them to be part of my work family.” 

She sort of smirked.  “So nasty is out.”  I nodded.  “How about secretly nasty?”  I shrugged.  “This will take some thought.  Can I ask my friends?”  I shook my head.  “Okay, hmmm.” 

She left thinking.  I left my lab to see Dr. Orwell.  Fortunately, she had a few minutes.  We sat at her little table. 

“Phyllis has told me she’s been volunteered.  Is she on your list?” Dr. Orwell nodded.  “Can you alter her profile to help make sure she gets assigned to me?  That I develop her serum?” 

Dr. Orwell smiled, a little.  “Fake?”

“Orange juice.” 

“Consider it done.  I’ll talk to Pinetree.  I think she’ll understand.  I already know she doesn’t want Phyllis used that way.  She as much as said so yesterday, when she told me to put her on the list.  You’re certain?” 

“I don’t want her at risk and neither does she.  And I’m not sure I want to see what she would transform into.”   

Then I returned to my lab.  In time to receive an email from Pinetree with Dr. Orwell’s shortlist of test subjects.  Phyllis was on it, and I was assigned to create her serum.  Sighting with relief, I went to the cafeteria.  My appetite was healthy and it was time to check in with my colleagues. 

Their appetites were also healthy and they were just as happy as I was but for profoundly different reasons.  Now they not only had the green light but each had been assigned a test subject.  They were all eager to fine tune their serums to suit what they hoped would happen. 

I’d thought of lying about Lieutenant Irwin, but Mark and Armstrong were sitting together in the cafeteria, proof my antidote worked. 

Fred was among the group I was eating with.  I told them they were doing great and I had high hopes and would help any way I could.  “Of course, I was lucky.  It worked.  If it had backfired, I’d have damaged my career.” 

“Damaged your career?” Fred asked.

“Sure.  Any failure is damage.  So just make sure your serums are right, eh?”  I said it with a smile but I could see them thinking.  Maybe it would delay their final versions a few days. 

On the other hand, each wanted to be first. 

I video phoned Lieutenant Irwin.   He was back in command of an artillery unit.  He told me he was stable and his anger was normal.  He thanked me again and asked if there was anything he could do for me.  I told him no.  I’d considered the possibility of reinjecting him so he would burst into flames again, demonstrating the antidote failed at least with him.  But apart from the evidence of Mark and Armstrong, it was not in my heart to even suggest that to Irwin.  I told him I’d be in touch. 

I was kinda proud of myself he was doing so well and that I had no intention of interest interfering. 

There was only one reporter outside my house that night. 

Phyllis was inside.  I’d already phoned her to tell her about the list and her being assigned to me.  She’d gotten home earlier and had time to prepare a quiche.  It was fabulous. 

We ate quietly.

Chapter Forty-One

Backfire

Fred’s serum was ready in two days.  The fellow was in a rush and feeling a rush about it.  He invited me to see the test, very excited and proud of his work.  I asked if it was too soon.  He replied, “Not soon enough.”  He had been not quite so eager when the researchers tested the serum on themselves. 

Pinetree, Dr. Orwell, Madeline and several key researchers assembled as before in the test lab.  Several security guards stood ready, armed with tranquilizer guns.  The cage and chair inside waited.  Full-length mirrors faced the cage, so the volunteer could see himself.  None of us was relaxed, we were all visibly tense.  Except mine, although certainly memorable none of the other tests had ended well.

When we were seated and ready, Fred and his assistant led in the volunteer.  “Today,” Fred announced proudly, “is the first test with our new protocols.  We have developed a serum—and antidote—specific to our test subject.  He has been fully informed about the serum and its possibilities.  We recognize surprise at the impact can be counter productive.  He motioned to the volunteer standing next to him. 

The man was tall, bulky, wearing only a robe.  He had a thick neck, solid build.  Covering his body, what we could see of it, were tattoos of knives piercing hearts, the colours vivid, red blood dripping from the hearts.  He looked like a thug.  And angry.  I would not want to meet the volunteer in a dark alley.  I would want him as a wing man.

“Everyone, this is Sergeant Phillip Oswald,” Fred told us, motioning again to the volunteer.  “My serum is tailored to his personality.  Right?”

Oswald looked at him.  “Whatever you say.  I don’t understand the science.”  He looked determined.   

“Sergeant, before you are our key researchers and our base commander, General Pinetree.  The guards with tranquilizer guns are here solely as a cautionary measure.” 

“Yeah, you told me.  They won’t need it when I look like a cool super hero.”  I saw his anger, all in his eyes. 

“That is what we are going for,” Fred chimed in.  “And we appreciate your volunteering.”

“General, doctors, everyone, thank you for this opportunity.  To date, I have taken my skills only so far.  I do have anger problems.  A lot of the time.  I look forward to becoming someone who will be looked up to and admired.  I want it.”  He smiled, hiding underneath an angry wariness that somehow, as always, he would be screwed.    

Fred told him, “In a moment.”      

“Just as long as I don’t get screwed,” Oswald muttered as he followed Fred into the cage. 

I saw handwriting on the wall. 

Fred raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

Oswald took off his robe and handed it to the assistant.  Tattoos covered his arms and legs, each featuring blood red rips, tears and drops.  Oswald sat in the chair and was strapped in.  He tried to appear confident but was nervous. 

“It’s okay,” Fred told him.  “Remember what we talked about.  We’ve done our best to make this a sure thing.” 

“Yeah.”

Fred’s assistant handed him a hypo filled with a blue liquid.  Fred looked at Oswald, smiled, pushed the needle into Oswald’s arm and pressed the plunger.  “In we go!”

Fred and his assistant stepped outside the cage and closed the door.  The lock snapped shut.  Oswald looked at us.  “I’m all in,” he said.  “I want—,” then he grunted. 

We all looked, waiting. 

Oswald’s entire body swelled and thickened.  He cried out in alarm as the arm and leg straps broke with a loud snap under the pressure.  “This don’t feel good!”  Freed, he stood on his thickening legs.  The tattoos of hearts and knives spread and smeared. 

I stood. 

“What’s happening,” he said, then grunted again.  His entire body thickened dramatically, turning gray.  Oswald became too heavy to stand and fell forward, onto all fours, limbs thickening still more, hands and feet transforming into thick stumps.  As his face thickened, an enormous white horn spouting where his nose had been. 

He opened his lengthened jaws to speak.  I saw long sharp fangs.  His stumps became hooves, then hooves with long claws.  He had a small tail over a huge butt.  His transformation complete, he squinted at us.  Then he saw himself in the mirrors. 

His nasty jaw dropped.  Instead of a handsome, inspiring superman, he saw an undeniably ugly rhinoceros.  Complete with jutting white horn, a smaller but equally sharp one behind it. 

“What the hell?” he belched out.  “This is what you turned me into?  Who am Isupposed to inspire?”  He was full of anger, which was understandable given being full of anger was a prime requirement.  Also, as he feared, he had been screwed.  “Assholes!” he shouted again, then lowered his head so his horn was level with the door.  And, on the other side, us. 

Pinetree hit a remote and an alarm blared.  A security guard managed to shoot a tranquilizer dart.  It bounced off Oswald’s head.  His new skin was thick.

He burst through the cage door. 

More tranquilizer darts bounced off his newly hardened skin as he glared at us.  He seemed to have difficulty seeing, squinting. 

We all scattered.  There was only one exit.  No one could quickly get out.  Oswald roared and hunched down, growling.  He saw Fred in the crowd and charged.  His horn pierced Fred in his chest.  Fred screamed as he was lifted off the ground.  His assistant plunged the antidote into Oswald’s neck.  The needle broke.

Everyone was crying out.

Oswald looked at the computers and research equipment.  At the science.  As he charged at them, distracted by smashed what he could with his bloody horn, trampling what was left of Fred, Pinetree took charge in pushing us through the door, getting us out.  We all managed to get out, two at a time.  Pinetree was last. 

Security guards armed with long guns began arriving.    

Oswald had finished destroying the lab.  Whirling around, he realized we were all gone but saw the open doorway.  Standing in it were security guards raising their guns. 

Oswald shouted, “Screw you!” and charged. 

They shot at him with automatic weapons, spent casings rattling on the floor.  I saw bullets bounce off his hardened skin, ricocheting all over the lab.  Then I was running down the hall with the others.  Alarms blared.  I heard shouts of terror.  Automatic lockdown was in progress.  Soundproofing ensured no one in the adjacent stores or the mall would hear the gunfire and alarms. 

Reaching my own lab, I found Phyllis had just run in.  “Pinetree phoned.  Something about the latest test going rogue?”

“Yeah.”  I went straight for my own tranquilizer gun—after the first failed experiments, we all had them.  I loaded it with the antidote I’d developed for myself.  “I didn’t develop this for the test subject, but it’s worth a shot.  And I don’t have anything else.” 

Phyllis took a heavy duty automatic from her shoulder holster and clicked off the safety. 

“That won’t do any good,” I told her.  “Maybe eyes and mouth.  His only vulnerable spots.” 

We hurriedly left, hearing more screams.  We ran towards them.  The screams grew louder.  People ran past us.

We found him in the cafeteria, browsing through the steam trays. 

“You’ll never hit him in the eye,” Phyllis said quietly, “and it’d be dumb luck to get that dart into his mouth.” 

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking at Oswald grazing.  “I need an open target.  There is one that’s easier.  Get to the other side and make some noise.” 

“Why over there?”

“I need him to turn to give me the best shot.” 

She edged across the large cafeteria.  When she was on the other side and I nodded, she shouted out, “Hey!  Butt hole!” 

Oswald raised his head, jaws dripping macaroni and cheese. 

Phyllis shot at him.  The bullet bounced off his head, just missing an eye.  Oswald turned to her, away from me, lowered his head and charged.  As he rushed forward he gave me my chance.  The dart hit him in his butt hole and the plunger shot the antidote into him. 

His butt hole, I reasoned, was not a hardened part. 

Oswald squealed, like a stuck rhinoceros.  He whirled in circles, crying out.  Then he stopped as the antidote hit him.  He grunted and shivered. 

Phyllis came to stand beside me as we slowly approached.  His body began to shrink.  Soon he was no longer thick.  His skin colour returned to normal.  He looked like himself.

But the changes continued.

He grew longer, his height increasing.  His hands returned, his feet, on lengthening limbs, growing long claws.  His body sprouted fur all over.  His jaw lengthened and grew fangs.  Oswald staggered against a table, grunting.  He looked exactly as I did when I transformed.  He growled.

Then he passed out. 

We looked at him unconscious on the floor.  I waited for him to transform back to normal human form, completing the antidote.  But Oswald did not transform.  He remained unconscious on the floor, hairy and looking like a werewolf. 

A werewolf with tattoos.    

We accompanied him as he was carried to the medical clinic on a stretcher.  There the doctors swarmed over him, Orwell come in to observe.  He regained consciousness, looked at us for a moment, said “Screw you” and fell unconscious again. 

The next morning, when he woke, Oswald could talk and make sense.  He was still a werewolf.  He tried to transition back and could not.  My antidote for me had transformed him into me, maybe permanently. 

Chapter Forty-Two

What Reality?

“We need to confront reality.”  Dr. Orwell stood in front of the assembled group.  We were in what was left of the cafeteria, seated in chairs facing her.  All the key researchers were there, along with the key administrative staff.  Most moved uneasily. 

“Most serum tests have resulted in disaster.  Only great fortune brought Mark and Armstrong back to us.  But the reality is disaster.” 

They moved more uneasily. 

“Why?” she continued, in a calm and even voice.  “We have not properly prepared our volunteers.  Is that not obvious?  The test subject two days ago believed he would be transformed into a vision that was nothing less than ideal.  When he saw he had become brutal instead, to use the technical term, he freaked.” 

They nodded. 

“The death of Fred is tragic.  The memorial yesterday was beautiful.  Given how he was–” she searched for the word, not trampled nor stomped nor mangled— “injured, restoration is impossible.  We honour his memory.”

More nodding.

“We need to confront the reality and learn our lesson.  We must prevent future adverse reactions from test subjects.  For reasons obvious. Moral and practical.” 

Much more nodding, but nervous.  Where was Orwell going?

Madeline and I sighed.  Pinetree was stoic and remained stoic.  No one but Orwell spoke, it was her presentation. 

“We’ve had two days since the incident.  The test subject regained consciousness but has not changed physically.  He remains similar in appearance to Mike, which makes sense, given the antidote was intended for Mike.  He talks with us, he understands, but remains unable to transform back.  He continues to look like a monster.

“This is the opposite of what he was promised.

“Understandably, the test subject is very angry even as he has been forced to accept his situation.  It still may be only temporary.  He is able to control his anger.  However, what if he transforms back into the brute we saw, and not his normal self?  We must apply this reality, this understanding of our work to our next steps.” 

“So what do we do?” Madeline asked.  It was a prompt.  She, I and Pinetree already knew where Orwell was headed. 

“Obviously,” Orwell replied, “test subjects must be better prepared for the possibility of failure.  We must revise our protocols.  Specifically, we must be completely honest with them about the possible outcomes.” 

“But then they won’t do it,” Fred’s former assistant chimed in.  “The percentages for success so far have been poor.  If we are honest with the test subjects, that even an antidote might not work, none would do it.  They’re not idiots.”  He looked at her.  “Wouldn’t you?  Where does that leave our work?  We’re dead in the water.”

She looked at him.  “It is a conundrum, Ernie.” 

We all tried to smile. 

“We are in a totally different situation with volunteers.  It is different than putting them to war, in harm’s way.  It is even different from testing vaccines on them. 

“Asking soldiers to sacrifice their lives has been a tradition through multitudes of lost lifetimes. Wars were a sacrifice volunteers, soldiers, understood.  They expected to be honoured as war heroes.  Depending of course on who won the conflict and how the history was written. 

“Our situation is gravely different.  For the serum to work, the test subject must be prepared for any result, even the worst.  Sergeant Oswald erupted because he became the opposite of what he believed he would become.”

We all nodded at that. 

She took a long breath.  I saw some of the researchers hold their own breath during the pause.  “Right now, personally, in consultation with General Pinetree,” she told us, “I believe that, currently it is impossible for us to continue any tests.” 

There was dead silence in the room.  Long moments went by.  All the researchers and most administrators were tense.  Jobs were on the line.  Careers were on the line.

“But” Armstrong asked, breaking the silence, “only if we are honest.” 

There was another long pause.  Dr. Orwell looked at him.  “The reason, Jim, is practical.  Otherwise, we risk what happened two days ago.  There have been too many injuries and deaths among us.  Not top mention the test subjects.  We cannot proceed if there is no reliable method for predicting end results.  For predicting what will happen to the test subjects.” 

“I think we’ve been honest about the risks,” Mark said, firmly. 

There was a murmur around the room. 

“The next one could be different,” Ernie added. 

“We must develop a foolproof method of delivering the antidote,” Armstrong agreed.  “That’s the real problem.  Honesty isn’t the problem.”

“We’re as honest as possible,” Jim chimed in. 

More murmuring, now positive murmuring. 

“It’s delivering the antidote.  We need something that will get through impenetrable skin.” 

“A pill.” 

“Fit the subject with an intravenous site hooked up first.” 

“Something up the subject’s ass,” another said.  “It worked with Oswald.”

Orwell smiled, remaining calm, reassuring, firm.  “Good ideas,” she told us, “but I think you are forgetting the psychology.  We cannot fall back on hoping the antidote can be delivered or works.  For successful results, the subject really must not only be prepared to accept an unwanted transformation.  As Mike here has demonstrated, he must embrace it.  Own it.” 

“Get them embrace being transformed?” Armstrong asked.  “We have drugs to do that.” 

I stood up, feeling the frustration boiling inside me.  Not anger, well maybe some anger, yes.  I could no longer sit and watch.  But although I was angry, I felt it controlled, modified—normal.  “Are any of you listening to her?  Stop it!  It’s great we’re putting in a team effort, but a team effort for what?  To create monsters?  Look at our end results.  We don’t even know our goals.  Can you please understand why I’m angry?  We’re committed to what?  Why are we doing this?”

“They pay us,” Mark said. 

“We like it,” Armstrong added. 

“Why did you?” Ernie asked. 

I looked at him.  “Ernie, my goal was not that I was paid or liked it.  My goal was me.  Helping me.  You all know the problems I had, what I inflicted on all of you.

“For years, my goal was to create a serum to bring my anger out.  The idea was to confront it and control it.  The serum worked.  I can tell you, so far it’s a success.  I helped create the serum.  It is part of me.  Understand?  It was not only tailored for me, I embraced it.  I wanted it.  And when I transformed, although I was shocked, in the end it was in fact what I wanted also.

“No one else can ever be in that situation.  Not in the sense of how involved I was, from developing the serum to testing it on myself.”  

They nodded, listening intently. 

“The mistake we make is believing anyone can be used.  That we can give orders, ideas and they will be followed.”

There was a long pause as they considered. 

“So we would be back to testing it on ourselves, then?” Mark concluded.  “That makes some sense.  Except none of us are angry enough.” 

“No,” I told him, “that isn’t—”

“We have drugs to help with that,” Armstrong said. 

“We are in an exciting area of research,” Ernie said.  “Groundbreaking.  Setbacks are inevitable. But the stars are within our reach.  Look at you.” 

“Walking on the cutting edge carries risks,” Mark agreed. 

“You’re our role model,” Armstrong added, “even if you don’t understand that.  As you told us, you are a success story.”

I sat. 

It was quiet.

Pinetree stood and went to the front of the room.  She guided the conversation, which ranged about how to continue—the conclusion was inevitable, given the group—to when the cafeteria would be repaired.  She told us an apartment was being prepared for Oswald.  Until he could transform to a person, he would remain in our base, for security and further study. 

Pinetree told everyone that she and Orwell were working on the problem, but until a resolution was found further serum tests were postponed. 

I walked out with Madeline.  “What do you want to do?” I asked her.

“Get drunk.” 

She walked away.  I returned to my lab.  My assistant was there, which was unusual as she generally avoided me.  I could not talk with her.  She would support the other researchers.  I’d already noticed her nosing around with Mark and Armstrong in the cafeteria. 

I need to do something. 

What would wake up my colleagues to reality? 

I went to see Sergeant Oswald. 

His apartment was not yet ready.  I found him sitting on a bed in a makeshift room, reading People Magazine.  He still looked like me.  He wore shorts.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“Sucks,” he growled.

I shed my clothing, letting it fall to the floor (I’ve never even been aware of wrinkles, much fewer matching colours, I never cared what other people thought) and transformed.  In a moment, I was also tall and hairy and fanged.

He sat up immediately.  He stood.  We looked at ourselves side by side.  There was a mirror on the wall.  We were close to identical, at least looking like a werewolf.  We both had big angry eyes and dripping fangs. 

“Hey brother,” I growled. 

“Hey bro,” he growled back. 

“You like having fangs?  How you look?”

“That part, yeah.  It’s kind of embarrassing my cock hanging out.” 

“Part of the deal.  Want to go for a walk?”

“Hell yeah.”

We left his room. 

“What do you have in mind?” he asked as we kind of loped into the hallway, naked and hairy and smelly kind of hoary. 

“I think they should see us as we are.” 

He looked at me.  “So there’s no more of us?  I’m in on that.” 

The guy was a quick study.

I led us first to Armstrong’s lab.  He sat with Mark and their two assistants, eagerly discussing Orwell’s talk and developing new ideas to continue their research.  Very self involved. 

“What’s up?” I growled.  They looked up and stopped talking.  We all stared at each other.  Oswald’s and my drool puddled on the floor.  Their coffee cooled. 

Finally, Armstrong said, “Uh, hi.  Hi you two.  How’s it going?” 

“We match up, don’t we?” I growled.  “Must be because I configured the antidote for me.”  I growled more than I had to.  I wanted them unnerved.    

“So, uh, what’s it like?” Mark asked.

“Are you stupid?” Oswald growled at him.  “What do you think?  It blows.  Try the antidote yourself.  Want to look like this the rest of your life?”  And he spread his arms and showed his claws and fangs and howled. 

It was a really long, cool howl.    

The four scientists all leaned away.  Far away. 

I looked at a wall and ripped my claws across it, leaving a shredded gaping hole.  “Feels great to rip things,” I told them.    

We left them still leaning. 

Oswald and I moved shoulder by shoulder in the hallway.  Researchers and other staff stepped aside, even pressing against the walls to allow us to pass.  No one wanted to get near us. 

“This feels good,” Oswald growled.  “They’re easy to scare.” 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” 

I took us into the cafeteria.  Workers were busy putting it back together, but many tables were up and the steam trays full.   We gathered trays full of food, then sat down with other staff.  All we did was eat.  No knives or forks or spoons.  Just claws. 

The others were disgusted.  It’s hard to eat politely with claws and long jaws.  Food fell half eaten and we drooled everywhere.  A cafeteria worker came by with a mop.  Everyone had stopped eating by the time we left.

For a break, we went to the gym, which cleared quickly, and enjoyed some ping pong.  It was a challenge holding the paddles with long, clawed fingers.  Then Oswald thanked me, said we should go for a beer sometime and we loped our separate ways. 

I went home happier and hopeful.  Yet.  Hope is important, but not a plan.  There was much more to do.  I phoned Mel and told her what we had done.  She loved it and told me she had an idea on how she could help.  The next day, with Pinetree’s agreement, she and several other artists set up in the restored cafeteria. 

When we walked in we entered a mini theatre.  The tables were gone and the chairs arranged to face the front, for an audience, facing the steam trays.  We could not see the trays, though, as large white sheets, forming a set, covered three sides, the open front facing the audience. 

On the set was the cage used in the test lab, complete with chair inside.  Painted on the white sheets on the right and left were large windows, with startled, worried faces peering in.  On the rear sheet a door was painted, with the edges cut so it could be opened.  Written on the door, in backwards letters, was SECRET.

When the audience chairs were full, leaving more staff standing, the lights dimmed.  Spotlights I had not noticed lit up the set.  We waited, assuming there would be an introduction or set up.  Instead, the performance just started.

The door opened and a man in a robe entered the set, followed by Mel and another woman, both wearing white lab coats.  They were followed by two men dressed as armed guards, another woman, dressed as a General, and finally by two men in suits who wore black sunglasses. 

“Naked time,” Mel said.  The man dropped his robe, revealing he was indeed naked.  “Are you a volunteer ready to serve your nation?” 

“Of course,” the man replied.  “What will happen to me?”

“We don’t know,” Mel replied.  “But we hope you’ll turn into something we admire and fear and someone else can use.” 

“Sounds perfect,” he replied. 

He walked into the cage, sat in the chair.  Mel and the other woman wearing a lab coat entered with him and strapped his arms and legs.  The others stayed outside and watched. 

“Ready to serve?” Mel asked.  He nodded.  The other woman handed her a hypo filled with a blood red liquid.  Mel appeared to inject it into his right arm.  Then she and the other woman stepped outside the cage, shut the door, and we all watched the man. 

I’m not sure how they did it.  Mel told me some of her ideas came from the 1930’s version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  That transformation came from using makeup which responded to different lights and filters. 

Suddenly the man in the chair lurched.  He cried out in pain.  He struggled with the straps, then one arm strap broke, then the other.  He undid the leg straps and stood, then hunched over in pain.  When he straightened and we saw his face again, it was a vampire’s—pale white, sunken eyes, hollow cheeks, two long fangs in his open, hungry mouth. 

“You want to see transformed?” he snarled at the other actors, who appeared horrified.  He pushed open the cage door and pounced on Mel, sinking his fangs into her throat.  The others screamed as he then leapt on them.  The door would not open.  He sank his fangs into all of them, drinking their blood. 

For a moment it was quiet.  The vampire stood over his victims.  Then Mel moved jerkily, gathered strength and rose, her neck bloody.  Her face was deathly white.  The others rose, also deathly white, blood dripping from wounds on their necks. 

Mel held up the empty hypo and cried out triumphantly, “It worked!” 

The lights went out. 

Dead silence. 

The applause was hesitant. 

After, Mel and her group handed out leaflets for their other performances.  There were few takers.  Staff’s eyes were on the floor. 

After, Mel and her group met with myself, Madeline, Pinetree and Dr. Orwell.  Mel was nervous until Pinetree shook her hand.  Orwell wiped a tear away. 

Madeline and I beamed, proud parents. 

Chapter Forty-Three

Betrayed

Phyllis and I drove in together the next morning.  We were both nervous.  Today I would inject her–with orange juice.  I told Pinetree and Orwell the night before.  Green light.  All was good and there was nothing to worry about.  Even though I vaguely felt I was in a Chekov play, waiting for the pistol on the wall to go off.

We entered The Academy, grabbed coffees from the cafeteria, went to my lab.  My assistant was there and held up two filled hypos, the “antidote” purple liquid, the serum orange.  Grape and orange juice. 

My assistant smiled.  “We’re ready to go,” she cheerfully told us.  I took the two capped syringes and thanked her.  At ten o’clock, half an hour later which felt longer, the three of us went to the test lab.  Phyllis wore only a robe.  The lab was prepared: cage, chair, security guards with tranquilizer guns.  Pinetree and Orwell were already there, nodding at us, relaxed.  Armstrong, Mark and several other key researchers were also there, Armstrong leaning against a wall, giving Phyllis and myself a smile.

I followed Phyllis into the cage and helped strap her in.  She kept her robe on, looking away from Armstrong, who himself looked disappointed.  We were ready.  

I took the orange filled syringe from my pocket and pulled off the cap.  I rolled up the sleeve on Phyllis’ arm, cleaned an area with an alcohol swab and pushed the needle gently into Phyllis’ arm.  Slowly I filled her with orange juice.  Then I stepped back, out of the cage, closing the door behind me. 

I waited–for nothing to happen. 

Phyllis smiled at me. 

Then, to my shock, she transformed.  I had injected her with a real serum—and it was working.  Her skin grew pale.  In fact, her entire body paled.  Then her body became transparent.  I saw through her body.  Phyllis became…ethereal.  Ghostly.  There but not there at all.

She stood.  The leather straps did not break.  She drifted through them.  She floated a few feet above the floor.  Her body was all moving wisps.  She looked at her arms and legs, then us, then drifted forward, straight through the bars.  She stopped a few feet from me, hovering.

“Phyllis?” I asked, stunned.

“I feel released!” she told me in a voice distant, her smile eerie, pleased.  “Been a ghost half my life, now I am one!  This is perfect!” 

“Really?”  I had no idea what to say.  I thought of grabbing the antidote, but it was still probably just grape juice.  Moreover, how could I inject someone who was not there?

She floated over us.  “I can go anywhere.  Do anything.  No more disguises!  The hell with make-up!”  She sounded thrilled.

And then Phyllis went through a wall and was gone. 

The lab was dead silent. 

We looked at each other, stunned.  Pinetree and Orwell were as surprised as I. 

I turned to my assistant.  She looked at the floor.  “What the hell?” I snarled at her.  I felt like transforming and holding her up against a wall.

Pinetree looked at the two of us and snapped, “In my office.  Now!” 

She stomped off and we followed, Dr. Orwell behind us.  We went into Pinetree’s office.  She shut the door behind us.  Slammed it. 

She glared at me.  “What happened?”

I faced my assistant, whose eyes were glued to the floor.  “Well?” 

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. 

Pinetree smashed her fist in a wall.  She made a hole.  “Tell the truth!” she demanded.  She was an undeniable force.

My assistant jumped back.  “It was Mark and Armstrong.  They convinced me.  Said they had a brilliant idea.  That Mike would never approve.” 

“Mark and Armstrong?” Pinetree asked skeptically. 

“They told me they were pressured.  By someone outside the base.” 

“And the antidote?” I demanded. 

“We developed one, and I have it in my pocket, but…” 

Pinetree glared at her.  “Go home.  You’ll get a call about your future.”  She watched my assistant leave, then picked up her phone.  “Tell Mark and Armstrong to come here at once.”  Then she looked at me. 

“Sorry,” she said.  “Sabotage.  Egos are rampant here.” 

I held up in my hands in frustration.  “What should I do?  We have no idea where she went.  Or whether she’ll be back.” 

Pinetree sighed.  “Go home,” Pinetree told me.  “If she goes anywhere, she may go there.  We’ll meet tomorrow morning to sort this out.  Damn dealing with all this crap!” 

As I left, I heard her tell Dr. Orwell, “If she comes back, we can use her.  A ghost is perfect.  Can’t believe it.  Check the serum they used.”  And then, “I’ll murder those two.” 

As I closed the door, I heard Orwell ask, “Can I watch?”

I went home frustrated, depressed, disturbed—you name it.  There were no reporters at the house.  I went inside, feeling alone.  Unpleasantly alone. 

The house was empty.  Where was she? 

“Phyllis?” I called out with little hope. 

She drifted through the living room wall and hovered in front of me. 

“Thank God,” I burst out.  “Are you all right?” 

“Great so far.  I’ve had a great time just flying around and being invisible.  Scared a couple of kids but that was a mistake.” 

I took a breath.  She seemed okay.  Not psychotic or changed—yet she had changed.  She was much lighter.  “Can you transform back?” 

Her ghostly smile shimmered.  “Haven’t thought of that.  Been having too much fun.”  Her brow furrowed, as much as it would furrow, and slowly she took real shape.  Her body solidifying took her down to the floor.  In a moment, she stood in front of me, herself.  Naked but herself. 

She looked at her arms and legs, feeling them.  “It’s more fun being a ghost,” she told me. 

I did not know what to say.  Phyllis appeared to be the project’s first real success, besides me but she seemed to have surpassed me.  Unless she decided to fade into nothing and never return.  Did she still have connections to earth? 

“Transform,” she told me.  “Let’s go for a run!” 

She helped me off with my clothing and I transformed.  She transformed back into being a ghost.  Then werewolf and ghost left the house.  Me through the kitchen door, Phyllis through a wall.  I leapt over the fence, she floated over it.  I nodded to the two guards waiting in the forest.  They saw us and took out their cell phones.  I smiled and waved.  They would let Pinetree know where Phyllis was.

Then we went for a run and a float. 

The moon was bright, except for a few clouds.  The air was clear, except for Phyllis. 

I ran fast, outdistancing the following guards who struggled to keep up.  She kept up easily, passing through trees and birds and, as I watched, she abruptly raced up, into the sky, vanishing in a cloud. 

I stopped, panting, waiting for her to return to earth. 

My Inner Werewolf Chapters 16-30

Chapter Sixteen

Death Row

A few days later, Pinetree visited my lab while I was actually working on a project.  “Thought I would drop in,” she said.

She never dropped in. 

Did she know more than I hoped?  Or was she just checking up on me?  She looked around my lab, tense.  Her mind was elsewhere.  “How’s Project 4?” she asked, looking at my computer monitor.  I relaxed. 

“That’s some of the current data on the screen.  It has promise.”  That was not a lie—the project had possibilities for bringing out a positive physical version of my anger, rather than something intensely negative.  Why look like a monster if I could look like Superman?  Complete with spit curl?

“And you?  Thought about the base?”    

“I’m better,” I lied.  “I know my role.”  She looked at me.  “My cure won’t work if my anger isn’t completely freed.”  I thought that part was true. 

She knew I was lying, at least about some of it.  “You’re a lab rat.  You like field work?” 

“It was exhilarating.  Going out and being physical.”   

“I know you have mixed feelings, Mike.”  She turned to look at me rather than the monitor.  “There’s another emergency.” 

My heart fell through the floor as my face brightened.  Or I thought I brightened it.

She noticed.  “Too soon?”

“It’s only been a week.  I’m still adapting.”  I felt an exciting chill at the thought of using my transformed body again.  “But if you need me, I’m here.  What is it?” 

“I’ll tell you, but you may not be needed,” she said.  I think she was trying to calm me.  “First, the first trial on Project 3 is ready.  If he works out, we’ll use him.  Come and see.” 

“Sure,” I told her, feeling better, not wanting to feel that excitement until I knew more about controlling it.  I followed her out of my lab and down the hallway, speeding up to match her pace.  “Who is the test subject?”

“Arnold.” 

Arnold?  Seriously?” 

“Why not?”

“He’s full of self-loathing.” 

“That’s why we thought it might work,” she replied. 

“Wrong mix,” I told her.  “It’s a mistake.”

She replied, “That’s what trials are for.”

We entered the lab now set up for these tests.  This was the second test after happy face, at least that I was aware of.  Arnold, a small man with a receding hairline and lips, sat already strapped into the chair in the cage, determined.  All his projects had failed.  He blamed himself and we all agreed.  Arnold was desperate to succeed and Project 3 provided a unique opportunity to change his status and his life. 

Video cameras were set up.  Three guards stood by, armed with tranquilizer guns.  Madeline was there, along with other researchers, to observe.  Arnold’s assistant, somehow less competent than him, held a hypo filled with a bright red fluid, waiting for the nod from Pinetree, now that she was there.  She nodded. 

A while ago, I’d told them both they were bad jokes as scientists.  That was harsh.  I apologized but neither spoke to me since.  Which was fine.  His assistant babbled and Arnold was difficult to be around.  His self-hate was as bad as my anger. 

In that, we were something of a fit. 

At Pinetree’s nod, Arnold was injected by his assistant, then left alone and the cage closed.  He sat, strapped in, determined and confident.  Everyone waited, including Arnold. 

Abruptly his body transformed into a large box with a lid on top.  Colourful animals pranced on the outside of the box as the straps on his arms, legs and chest ripped apart. 

The large box sat in the chair.  I tried to make sense of what the serum had done to him.  A handle sprouted on one side and began to turn.  Tinkly music played, like a jack in the box.  We heard someone inside cry “Yes!”  Then the lid on the top of the box flipped open. 

Arnold’s head popped out.  It jerked on a long, thin neck.  He grinned, looking at us happily.  He said “I’m–” when his thin neck, unable to sustain his bobbing up and down, suddenly snapped.  It was a disturbing, wet sound. 

His head, now screaming in pain, fell with a loud clunk to the floor. 

Then it rolled around, until his teeth stopped clattering. 

His head lay on the floor, eyes wide open.  Blood splattered everywhere.  The box farted, then shrivelled. 

Even Pinetree was shocked. 

As the guards moved into the cage with mops, I asked her, “Did he have a family?” 

“Wife and two kids,” she replied.  “What a godawful mess.”  She sighed.  “I guess we can say self-loathing is off the acceptable personality list.”  She shook her head.  “You’re up, after all.  Like I told you, there’s an emergency.” 

“It can’t wait?”

“Shall I spell emergency for you?  Put on your jump suit and meet me in the underground garage in ten minutes.  We have a drive, not too far.” 

“To where?”

“Death row.” 

I asked about Arnold’s project as we rode together in the back of the van.  She told me there was no time for that now.  Despite myself, I was excited.  It was disturbing that, for the first time, Pinetree appeared uncertain. 

“There’s been a riot on death row in the federal prison just outside the city,” she told me.  “Nine inmates, appeals exhausted, all due to be executed.  They’re all guilty of murder and additional charges.  Maybe the appeals failing is why they rioted.” 

“They’re on death row, nothing to lose.” 

“Right,” she said, strangely not convinced.  “They killed one guard and are holding two as hostages.  The inmates can’t get out and the guards cannot get in.  Somehow, the inmates have guns.  The inmates are trying to negotiate an escape.  That will never happen.  Which leaves it to someone with special skills.” 

“And secrecy?”

“It’s a prison.  We can keep who sees your transformation limited.” 

The targets had hostages and were already condemned legally.  I was the only one who could get in there and solve the problem.  “Sounds perfect, for me.”

“Too perfect,” she replied. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. 

“No idea.” 

During the rest of the drive, she briefed me on the individual inmates, who they were, what they had done to be sentenced to death.  She told me about the guard they killed and her family.  The riot quickly became a siege.  It had been kept quiet but started three days ago.  We met the Warden in his office, with some key corrections officers. 

They were all tense, desperate for a solution.  The Warden looked at me.  “How is this guy going to help?”    

As an answer, with a nod from Pinetree, I took off my jump suit and transformed, my body taking on the power and strength I enjoyed so much.  I looked down on them, breathing my hot breath onto their faces as they cowered in shock. 

“What the hell is this?” the Warden asked. 

“Like you were told, it’s different,” Pinetree told him.  “A top-secret application.”

“But this?” 

“Bullets won’t hurt him.  He will save your two guards.  We’re good?” 

“Yeah.  Good.”  The Warden spoke as if he had no choice. 

“There are nine inmates?”  The Warden nodded.  “And the two guards?”

“As far as we know, tied up but not injured.” 

“Weapons?”

“Pistols.” 

“And how did inmates on death row get weapons?”  Pinetree looked at him suspiciously. 

The Warden shook his head.  “No idea.  It’s devastating.  We’re already investigating.” 

“Anything else you can tell us?” 

“There’s only one way in.”

“Take us there.” 

We followed the Warden and several corrections officers down a hall, into an elevator, down another hall, into another elevator, then through a series of locked barred doors until we hit a solid large door. 

“This is it,” the Warden told us.  “Death row is on the other side.” 

“How do we get in?” 

“Turn the knob,” the Warden replied.  “They unlocked it.  The problem is if we try to walk in.  It’s a large, open hallway, cells on either side.  Nothing else, no cover.  They killed the security cameras, so we’re guessing at anything you’ll find.” 

“How do you talk with them?”  He handed Pinetree a cell phone, pointed to an icon.  “Anything else?” 

“I’ve got one officer down.  I’m hoping you’ll save the other two.” 

“Okay, why not go a corridor back behind that barred door, and leave it to us?”  

The Warden and the officers, looking at us suspiciously, retreated to the prior corridor, closing the door behind them. 

Pinetree looked at me.  “This is a set up.  Somehow.  I don’t like how guns got into play.” 

I agreed.  “Doesn’t make any difference,” I growled. 

She touched the icon on the phone and put it on speaker.  After three rings, a man answered.  “This is the Warden?  You got the choppers?” 

“No,” Pinetree said.  “It isn’t the Warden.  It’s the Army.  We’re on the other side of the door.  We will use lethal force.  Surrender yourselves and the hostages now.” 

“Drop dead,” the man replied, ending the call. 

Pinetree looked at me.  “I want to talk to those two guards.  They’re the likely source of the weapons.”  I watched her join the Warden and corrections officer, closing the barred door behind her. 

I stood alone, between the two doors.  I pulled myself to my full height, enjoying my powerful muscles.  My anger felt real.  Not simply an emotion, it was physical.  And unleashed.  I looked at the door in front of me and howled.  I imagined the shock of the men on the other side. 

I howled again, making it as primordial as I could.  The angry cries echoed in the small corridor.  I loved the sound of my anger. 

I turned the knob and burst into whatever I was bursting into. 

It was a large, well lit open hall with open cell doors on both sides.  The far end was a wall.  Standing in front of me were four men, two with pistols.  We faced each other.  They were stunned.  I bristled and howled again.  They opened fire. 

Bullets hit my chest and shoulders.  Blood spurted from the wounds.  Instead of dying or falling back, as they expected, I leapt at them, claws extended. 

They never had a chance. 

Before they could fire again, I grabbed two by the neck, my claws sinking deep into their flesh.  The other two shot again, one bullet ripping off my right ear.  I dropped the first two, already dying, and buried my claws into the others, ripping their arms.  Their guns went off uselessly as I hoisted each up off their feet, then threw them, bleeding and shrieking, against the five men charging down the hall towards us. 

I also threw their arms.    

The bodies and body parts hit them, but they shot at me as they scattered.  These five also had guns.  I howled.  I felt bullets hit my chest, arms, legs.  I had no idea if I was bleeding.  If I was in pain, it did not matter.  Nothing mattered except the remaining prey. 

I crouched then leapt, knocking two down, clawing them badly with my feet while I ripped apart the face of s third.  I felt more shots as the remaining two shot until their guns were empty.  I stalked them down the hall, snarling, claws dripping blood, as they staggered back, defenceless. 

I ripped their hearts out.   

It all took less than a minute. 

I looked at the nine men I had killed.  Seven.  Two still twitched.  That soon stopped.  Nine.    

Now I felt pain and looked down to see I was bleeding.  Bleeding from my chest, arms, legs.  But the wounds did not feel deep.  I saw bullets pop out of the holes, and my skin immediately begin to heal.  Except one of my ears, which had been shot off.  That was on the floor.    

I prowled through the cells until I found the two guards.  They were both tied, bruised but unharmed.  I approached them, taking in their scents.  Fear.  More than fear of me, deeper. 

“Are you okay?” I growled. 

They jerked in their bonds.  One said, “Who the hell are you?” 

I grabbed one in each claw and lifted them up, making them dangle helplessly.  “What have you done?” I demanded.  Blood from my claws dripped onto them. 

“We followed orders,” one blurted.  The other quickly told him, “Shut up, you idiot.”    

Something or someone frightened them more than a monster who had just killed nine men.  I would get nothing more from them.  Maybe Pinetree would.  

I put them down and left them, tied.  Outside, I found a cell phone, under a body.  I called, Pinetree answered, I told her it was done.  After ending the call, I looked down.  My multiple wounds had healed.  All that was left now was a dull ache and blood all over my body. 

I transformed back, shrinking from raw power to me.  I felt at my head.  I had both ears. 

When I looked at my naked flesh, their blood covered me. 

My ear lay on the floor. 

It had transformed back to human. 

Chapter Seventeen

Funeral

I handed over my ear to Pinetree and went home.  She never gave it back. 

Arnold’s funeral, the next day, was lovely.  There were plenty of flowers and mourners.  The sky was cloudy, which felt appropriate. 

The casket was sealed. 

The funeral was in a small cemetery on the edge of the city.  Most of the Academy staff were there.  It was a bit unreal, seeing them outside of their natural habitat, the labs.  Pinetree was there, Dr. Orwell, Madeline and others.  Many held umbrellas, waiting for rain. 

I caught most of them stealing glances at me.  They’d heard what I’d done yesterday.  Now they were nervous around me, cancelling my earlier gains. 

Arnold’s wife stood in a receiving line.  Their two young children were not there.  Everyone murmured condolences and she thanked them.  After a few minutes, standing in line, it was my turn. 

“I’m so sorry,” I told her. 

She glared back.  “You took that stuff.  Why is he dead and not you?” 

Her angry blunt question took me aback.  I blurted out, “I used it because I’m angry.  He used it because he hated himself.  That’s what killed him.  That and living with you.” 

Her face crumpled and she burst into tears.  Everyone moved away from me. 

I left the line, feeling terrible.  Why had I suddenly become angry, like the ‘old days?’  I moved towards Madeline, who moved away from me.  Pinetree noticed and quietly walked over.  The two of us stood away from everyone as the speeches began.   

“Poor Arnold,” I muttered. 

“Yes.” 

“I was such a jerk just now.  I upset her.  Don’t know what got into me.  Suddenly I was angry.  I haven’t been angry with people in weeks.”

“They’ll get over it.” 

“I was making progress with Madeline.  Now it’s dead.  Probably because I killed nine men yesterday.” 

“Did you talk with her about it?” 

“She won’t talk to me.”  I looked at her.  I looked at the funeral.  “What about his family?” 

“Don’t worry too much.  They were heading towards divorce.  I read the papers from her lawyer.  She has insurance.  It’ll work out.  And about the men you killed yesterday.  No matter what, they were on death row.” 

I looked at Arnold’s widow standing at the grave side.  She dabbed at her eyes but was not crying.  I wondered if the nine men left behind grieving family and friends, despite their crimes and personality disorders.  I wondered what their funerals were like. 

“What’s next?” I asked. 

“We have four active projects.” 

“Even after this?” 

“I have a list of volunteers.  And we’re not the only unit.” 

I realized everyone was not listening to the speeches but looking at us.  I saw concern, fear, some hostility. 

“He died trying to do his best,” the priest told the group.  The priest was the Academy chaplain and also ran a small chapel in the mall.  “We all know how important his work, your work, is to our national interest. 

“I spoke with him the day before he took the serum.  He wanted peace.  He understood the risks but was driven to succeed.  To succeed at work and to defeat his inner demons.  Those two drives are what we should remember and admire.

“Arnold’s legacy is to inspire us.” 

He could have been talking about me.  Did he know in the last two weeks I had killed fourteen men, pursuing those same goals of succeeding at work and defeating my inner demons? 

I was not feeling inspired.  Looking at my colleagues, who did not meet my eyes, neither were they.  Everyone looked defeated.    

It started to rain. 

Pinetree had an umbrella.  She let me come under it with her. 

Madeline looked at the coffin. 

Although it rained, we all stayed until the speeches were over.  Then we walked towards our cars.  I was still under Pinetree’s umbrella when Dr. Orwell approached. 

“I thought we should schedule a session as soon as possible,” she told me.  “That death row situation must have been very difficult for you.” 

She said it while Pinetree watched.  I told her I did have stuff I wanted to talk about, and then we all went to our separate cars.  I approached Madeline as she got into hers. 

“I’d love to talk with you,” I told her. 

“I’m not ready,” she told me, getting into her car and closing the door.  I watched her drive off. 

I was getting pretty wet. 

By the time I reached my car, everyone else had driven off.  I paused a moment to watch the diggers shovel dirt onto the coffin, then got out of the rain. 

It did not stop the rain, but I had a chance to dry off. 

I wished I had someone to talk with.

Chapter Eighteen

I Need Someone To Talk With

My cell phone rang.  I looked, it was Melanie.  I wanted to talk with someone but she was probably calling about yesterday.  I was not ready to talk with her about yesterday. 

I was ready to talk with Dr. Orwell. 

She was my therapist. 

We sat in her office.  There was coffee and cookies on the table.  I immediately poured a cup for myself, she shook her head, and gulped half of it down.  The warm felt good, spreading through my chest.  Any warmth felt good. 

“I’m not so good,” I told her, and drank the other half. 

“I saw.” 

“I burst out at her.” 

“Why? 

“I don’t know.  I think it may be because she was angry at me.” 

“And your anger, now energized and even more alive within you, was of course angry back.” 

“If you say so.  I’m just living it.”  I was, I realized, feeling resigned. 

“You’re depressed.  Yesterday must have been very hard for you.”  She leaned forward. 

I leaned forward as well.  “No.  It was easy.” 

She did not move.  Neither did I.  She waited.  She was great at waiting.  There is nothing like silence to force talk. 

“What I did, I just did what came naturally.  Which was to show no mercy.”  She nodded.  “But the question still has not been answered about where the inmates got guns.  The two surviving guards, Pinetree tells me, are being questioned.  I asked them, one said he’d been given orders.” 

She nodded again, thinking. 

“Do you know what’s going on?  What’s the larger picture?” 

“My guess is some people believe the bank was not enough, especially after your actions at the research base.  I think they knew you were reluctant and created a situation where you were free to do whatever, especially to use violence.  I think your actions on death row satisfied them, at least that if not in you they had a real weapon they could use.” 

“For what?” 

She had no answer. 

“So what am I supposed to do now?” I asked. 

“Look after yourself,” she told me.  “Talk with your daughter.  Try talking with Madeline.  The staff are worried again about you.  Reassure them by acting normal.  I think you’ll find tomorrow better than today.” 

That was not a lot of help, but I turned down her offer of meds.  I returned to my lab and turned on the computer, then slumped.  It was all too much.  When Madeline first injected the serum, my plan was by now, three weeks or so later, to be free—or at least well on my way.  Instead, everything in my life had grown strange and surrounded me.  Not only my anger, not only the results of the serum, but what increasingly was evidence of a larger conspiracy. 

I had never found a conspiracy I believed in.  My work was not a secret conspiracy in that everyone knew or assumed the government worked on secret weapons, including biological.  And its use, for what it was, was normal.  And which conspiracy?  There were at least two, and that was counting with clenched fingers. 

I unclenched my fingers and texted Melanie.  “Sorry I missed u.  Was at funeral.  Call or text me?”  And hit send.  Then I texted Madeline, asking if we could talk.  I stopped, having run out of people.

I texted Gloria, asking if we could meet that night instead of Friday. 

She texted back: “7 as usual?”  I sent back a thumb’s up. 

I sat alone for the rest of the day, waiting for another response.  An email came to the staff working on the special research projects: “Due to the tragic occurrence yesterday, all trials are suspended until we complete a review of personality traits.  Please continue your work otherwise.”  Then Pinetree phoned and told me the two guards blamed the dead one for smuggling pistols into death row.            

I went home.  I made some coffee and drank it while scanning the house.  I found two new bugs and stepped on them. 

Then, thinking Gloria would be there in a couple of hours, I found myself vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen and tidying.  I straightened the bed but did not bother with fresh sheets. 

Then, thinking about it, I put on fresh sheets. 

Then I changed my clothing. 

While I was looking through the window, seeing only two guards in the car outside, I heard my cell phone ring.  I thought it was Gloria. 

“Dad?” 

“Oh.  Hi.  I expected you to text.” 

“I would have.  I thought maybe you wanted to talk.” 

Timing.  “I do.  Someone is coming over but I have time until then.  You want to hear about yesterday.” 

“Yeah.  I read about it, some super rescue at the prison.  I phoned mom, she said it was you.  Mom’s real upset.  Really.” 

“She won’t talk to me.” 

“Doesn’t know what to say,” my daughter responded.  “I don’t either.  How do you feel?” 

“I defended myself,” I lied, “and rescued the hostages.  I was encouraged to unleash my anger, and I did.  It was a horror show.” 

“You wanted to kill them?” 

“Not exactly.  More like, I let it happen.” 

“Dad, we need to talk more.  I wanted to tell you, I’m moving in with mom.”  There was a pause as it sank it, or started to sink in.  “Dad?” 

“I’m here.” 

“I’m dropping out in a month, when I finish my classes this year.  I need to live in the city and mom’s got room.  Plus, she needs me.  She enjoyed living alone, until now.” 

And then she said she’d call again in a week, and to text any time, and she ended the call.  I looked up to see Gloria drive up and park.  She wore a light coat, revealing nothing.  The guards watched her walk up to my front door, and I answered a moment after she knocked.  I smiled at the guards, let her in, and closed the door. 

“Let’s go to the basement,” I told her. 

“Why down here?” she asked as we walked down the steps.  In a year, she had never been down there.  It was unfinished and full of keepsakes in boxes I had not yet moved to the garage to rip up. 

“I caught two more bugs today,” I told her.  “The house is clear, but if they’re listening from outside, through the walls, they won’t get anything down here.” 

“You didn’t tidy up down here.” 

“Sorry, it is a mess.  The garage is worse.  But if we have anything to say that we don’t want anyone to hear, it should be down here.” 

She looked around.  “Got a chair?” 

I found two folding chairs and set them up.  She took off her light coat.  Underneath she wore a plain dress, with some lovely flowers.  She unpinned her hair and shook it out, then sat down. 

We looked at each other. 

“I’ve wanted to talk with someone all day.  Talk honestly.  All day.  Now we’re down here and I don’t have any words.” 

“You’re doing okay so far.”  She smiled.  “I’ve worried.” 

“Can you tell me anything more about the group?” 

She shook her head.  “Wish I could.  The two guards blame the dead one.  How convenient.  It’s still being investigated, but already there’s a hush from higher up.  From somewhere.” 

“Can I meet someone else in the group?” 

“Besides Dr. Orwell?  It’s being worked on, but no one right now knows where to put our resources.  Too many threads.  It’s become big and screwed up.  I don’t know what to do, either.” 

Those were the questions. 

“I wanted to talk.  Phyllis, mind if we just sit here for a while?” 

And so we sat, finding comfort in each other’s company. 

For a while, sitting in together in the basement, life felt a little stable and comforting.  Until I heard again from Pinetree. 

I worried this continued to get larger, and worse.

Chapter Nineteen

All About Me

The next day, Pinetree phoned and told me we were going for another drive.  She said some people wanted to see me. 

“Which people?” I asked. 

“I don’t know,” she replied. 

A gray car waited out front.  I did not recognize the driver, who wore plain clothing.  She pulled away, Pinetree and I sitting in the back. 

“How long will it take?” she asked the driver. 

“Half an hour,” the driver replied. 

Pinetree did not know where we were going or to whom we were being taken.  We exchanged looks.  Neither of us wanted to talk much in front of the driver, leaving us to stew in our thoughts as we left the city.  We went on a highway for a while, then took a turnoff, then a turnoff with a large sign about no trespassing and restricted property.  We arrived at the property, a small military base surrounded by razor wire.  After we passed through the entry, we were driven to a large building and let off by the front door. 

A man in uniform was waiting.  He led us into the building, to the second floor and into a small meeting room.  Five men sat at a table, waiting for us.  They did not stand as we entered but motioned to two chairs in front of the table.  They all wore suits, were all clean shaven. 

A thick man sitting in the centre smiled.  “Welcome, General Pinetree and Mr. Smithers.  We appreciate your coming today.”  He paused as if waiting for us to thank him.  I looked to Pinetree for a cue. 

“Anything to be of help,” Pinetree told them.  “What do you want?” 

The thick man smiled.  “We have seen the videos of the three transformations.  Of course, two did not suit our purposes.  But Mr. Smithers has been a success.  While we have seen his transformations on video, we have never seen him in action.”  He looked at me.  “That is what today is all about.” 

“Me?”

“Of course,” he told me.  “It’s all about you.”  For once, that did not make me feel good.  “To start, we would like to see you transform.  If you like, you can go behind that screen to remove your clothing and put on a robe.” 

How considerate. 

“Who are you?” I asked. 

“If we wanted you to know,” he replied, “wouldn’t we have told you?” 

I stood.  “I don’t need the screen.”  They sat up.  I thought, they need to see it all?  Fine.  And I transformed, enjoying feeling not only my body grow more powerful but my clothing stretch and rip apart.  In moments I stood at my full height, snarling. 

The thick man asked, “Can you talk?” 

“What do you want me to say?” I growled in my thick monster voice. 

“That was enough.  Can you control how you look?”

“This is it.”    

One of the other men asked, “Could you howl?” 

So I howled.  At his request, a few times, the angry bestial sound echoing in the small room. 

They looked at each other.  The thick man told Pinetree, “Very impressive.”  To me, he said, “Let’s go outside.” 

They took us outside to a training course.  First, they had me run a few laps, timing me.  Then there were thick mud pits to crawl through.  I leapt over them easily.  There was a fifty-foot climbing rope dangling from a tower.  I scaled the rope, claw over claw, standing at the top.  They told me to jump off.  I landed with a loud thud but not a scratch. 

“Thank you,” the thick man said to me.  “Now we would like to shoot you.” 

We were led back inside to a large gym like room where several men and women waited.  They all wore Army combat uniforms, with body armor.  On a table was a pistol, an uzi and a shotgun.  I stood and watched a woman pick up the pistol. 

“Not in the face,” I told her. 

She shot me in the stomach. 

They waited, and saw the bullet pop out and my flesh begin to heal. 

A man picked up the uzi and sprayed it across my chest. 

They waited and watched the bullets pop out, and those wounds begin to heal. 

The shotgun blast took off part of my shoulder.  I growled.  But like them, I watched my shoulder reform and begin to grow back. 

They used stopwatches to time each healing process. 

Then the thick man pointed to the three soldiers who had just shot me.  “Rough them up but don’t hurt them.  Use your claws, but on their body armor.  Understood?” 

“Sure.  You want to see me slash,” I replied. 

“Exactly.” 

I approached the three soldiers, who looked at me warily.  I was taller than any of them, powerful as each was. 

“What do you want us to do?” one asked. 

“It doesn’t matter.”  I sank my claws into his chest armor and lifted him until his feet dangled a foot off the ground.  Then I turned to look at the men watching.  “This enough?  If I do more, he’ll get hurt.” 

“And you don’t want to hurt him?  Put him down.”  I lowered him and released my grip.  The soldier backed away.  He told the soldiers to leave, and they did.  “What about the research base?  You didn’t kill.  I understand your orders were to terminate whoever you found.” 

I was waiting for that.  “I misinterpreted the order,” I growled.  “I thought I only should subdue them.”  I paused, looking at them.  “I killed at the bank and prison.” 

“Would you do it again?” 

“Already did it a second time.” 

“Do you enjoy it?” 

“…. Yes.” 

“Good.  Thank you.”  He looked at the others.  “Excuse us a moment,” he said, and then the five men went off to one side and whispered. 

I looked at Pinetree, who was looking at them.  “Are these guys military?” 

“Two are.  I recognize them.  The others, I don’t know.” 

“How’s the thick guy?”

“Some thick guy.”

They whispered for a while, not long.  I’d met expectations.  Then the thick man returned to us.  “Thank you very much for this opportunity,” he said to both of us.  “We’re encouraged.”  He looked at me.  “You cannot change your appearance?”  I looked at him.  “Then we will give priority to developing additional serums.  And continue to explore options in your own development.” 

“What options?” I asked. 

He walked away. 

Pinetree looked at me.  We were alone in the large room.  “I think we can leave now.” 
 

Chapter Twenty

I Flee

I tried to settle into life, but it was impossible.  Haunting me now was the thick man, and whatever schemes he planned for me.  My prime goal, curing myself, to which I kept trying to return, was again overshadowed by someone else’s goals.  Far from settling in, all I now thought about was getting out.  Fleeing from the impossible situation I had partly created for myself, partly been sucked into (which I should have known would happen.)  My being responsible for what I had already done was difficult enough.  Being responsible for additional murders—that is what they were and would be—left me wanting only an exit.  To escape.  To flee. 

Wouldn’t you?

I struggled with what I should do.  The night after meeting the thick man and his colleagues, Madeline came to the house for a visit.  Well, I asked her over.  Well, she was reluctant but I insisted.  Well, I pressured her until she had no choice.  I felt guilty but told her she owed me.  She had developed the serum, injected it into me, was part of the team. 

Madeline nodded to the guards in the car as she walked up the front steps to her former home.  She had not walked those steps for two years.  I opened the door before she knocked. 

She looked at the ground.  So did I.  I stood aside, she stepped in and I shut the door behind her.  She did not move.  Then, summoning something up, she said quietly, “Okay.  I’m here.  Where can we talk?” 

“The safest place is the basement.” 

When she got to the basement, she sat in one of the two armchairs I’d lugged down.  She looked at the pot of coffee and plate of cookies on the folding table between us.  “Tidied up down here?  And dainties.  Just for me?” she asked. 

I remembered Phyllis.  It wasn’t only my work situation that pushed me to escape.  “Yes, just for you.”   

“You shouldn’t have bothered.”  She pushed herself to look at me.  “Thanks.  Enough about me.  You?” 

“I’ve made a basement of my life.  I’m living in it.  I need to get out.” 

“We create our basements.”  She shifted in the armchair, crossing her legs.  She wore a plain pants suit.  She had not taken off her light coat.  Madeline did not give the impression of wanting to stay long. 

I got to the point.  Reaching out.  I needed support, help.  “I’ve been talking with Mel.  Texting.” 

“She’s moving in next week.  I could use the support and she wants to establish herself in the city.  Will that her being so close be a problem?” 

“I don’t know.  There’s so much to hide.”  She nodded.  “Madeline, everything we talked about, everything we planned, it’s all gone sideways.”  She started to say something.  “Don’t tell me.  I remind myself every day you told me so.” 

“I wasn’t going to say that.  You always assumed.”  She stood, walked around the basement.  “I know how you feel.  I see you at work.  How is the anger?”

“Under control.  I think.  If no one gets angry at me.” 

“Good.  I’ll remember to be careful, then.”  That felt hostile.  When I caught her eyes, I saw it was.  “The staff are worried about how you, rather, about how you are being used.  And that it will spill out at work somehow.  They know about Arnold and certainly you.  Most staff now have a tranquilizer gun in their labs.” 

“Can you help me?” 

“To do what?  There’s nothing in this I can do, except maybe stall.” 

“I’m having trouble with Project 4.  Serums are your area.” 

She stiffened.  “You want another one?”  Furious, she went straight up the stairs and out the front door.  I heard it slam.   

Reaching out to Madeline appeared problematic.  Melanie was not what I needed.  My anger had eliminated any friends. 

The next morning I sat in my lab, unable to work.  Dr. Orwell phoned, asked how I was.  I told her I was disconnected from the world while it busily was trying to chain me.  She offered meds.  I rejected them as making me happy about not changing why I was depressed.  I needed solutions, not veneers. 

I set up a meeting with Pinetree late that afternoon, desperate.  “I need to get away,” I told her. 

“Sorry.  Vacations right now are not allowable.” 

I leaned forward.  “No.  I want out.  Not a vacation.  How about I slip away and no one sees me again?  Wouldn’t that solve problems?” 

“This won’t work.  You know that.” 

“I need to try.”

She twiddled her fingers for a moment, then sighed.  “The guards in the parking lot will not be there when it’s time to go home.  More than that, I can’t do.”  She was letting me go.  “You’ll have a few days.  Don’t stretch it.  Use those days, Mike, to figure out what will work for you.”   

I thanked her and we didn’t say anything else and at the end of the day a security guard followed me down in the elevator and left me alone, as usual, and as usual, there was a dark car—only today it was empty. 

I quickly got into my car, started it up, and drove out of the garage.  When I reached the street, confronted with my first decision, I stopped.  I had no idea whether to turn left, right or straight.  All I knew for certain was not to back up.      

I was determined to escape, but to where? 

Certainly, I could not go home.  I could not pack a suitcase.  I just had to leave. Leave everything.  Drive.  But I could not drive long.  It was not good, being in public.  I needed a temporary hideout, clothes.  A few hours to regroup. 

I had credit cards but did not want to be traced.  My first step was ATMs, withdrawing as much cash as I could.  I left my car parked by the last–it was easily identified.  And I had never thought to test it for bugs.  I walked, to nowhere. 

I walked past a hotel, deciding no hideout could be near my car.  I stopped walking and took a bus.  I changed busses.  When I got close to the city limits, an area of cheap motels, I got off went into the nearest to the bus stop.  I paid cash, was as pleasant as I could manage to the clerk and sat in a seedy room. 

What next?  I had impulsively leapt.  I was trying to run away.  Would that fix anything?  Was there a real escape?  Do any of us have real escapes?  How many of you feel as trapped as I was?  Okay, nobody.  Nobody.   

There was no time to brood.  I had to do something other than feel threatened.  I went outside to across the street.  There was a strip mall.  From a thrift store, I got some cheap clothes and a battered suitcase to put them in.  For food, I picked up take out from the pizza restaurant next to the thrift store, then returned to my room and locked myself in with bad clothing and unhealthy food.  It was a start. 

I turned on the TV and sat on the bed eating and watching the news, glad I was not on it.  There was a story about death row and the questions being raised.    

For any plan, I needed help.  I could not call Pinetree, Madeline nor Melanie.  There was only one choice.  I picked up my cell phone without a qualm.  Phyllis. 

I took a chance, telling her where I was.  I thought my phone was safe—but it could be used for tracking me.  And I did not know about her phone.  I turned off the light and TV, darkening the room.  Outside, it was early evening.  Outside, people lived normal lives. 

After twenty minutes there was a knock on the door.  I had seen no car pull up.  It could only be Phyllis.  Opening the door, I did not recognize her.  She had dark hair and wore a long coat. 

“Faster,” she said.

I stopped aside, she came in and I closed the door.  She pulled off the wig.  “Just being careful.  I wasn’t followed, my phone’s okay.”  She looked at the room and sighed.  “Ugh.  Reminds me of pits I’ve lived in.” 

“Should I sleep here?” I asked.  “Is it safe?”    

“No.” 

“Why?  Too obvious?  To close?”

“Bed bugs.” 

I relaxed a bit.  “Exactly the sort of advice I need,” I told her, although it was not quite what I’d expected.  Then I overflowed.  “Phyllis, I need to escape.  Not from Pinetree but whoever is above her.  Whoever will use me to kill again.  Or show other people the way.  It’s out of my control and I don’t know what’s coming next.  I have to get out!  You have years in security work.  I’m sure you’ve helped people disappear.” 

She looked at me. 

“I mean, disappear into new lives.” 

She nodded. 

“Can you make me disappear?” 

She was expecting this.  “I can give you a safe house,” she told me.  “Safe for how long, I can’t say.  Probably through the weekend.” 

“The weekend?  Only that long?”

“Maybe not that long.  The best I can think of is to come up with an excuse and you’re back to work on Monday.” 

“I can’t do that.  I need to disappear.” 

“Anyone can be found.” 

“Can’t I change my identity?  Get a face transplant or something?”

She laughed.  “I’ll take you to my cabin.” 

After slipping the wig back on, and opened the door a crack to check, Phyllis went outside.  She walked easily, casually, without making obvious she was carefully looking around.  Then she stood by her car and waved me an all clear.  I took my suitcase and new clothes and left the bed bugs behind. 

The car was small, confining but safe.  It was dark.  I let her drive.  I had no words, enjoying security and companionship. 

“It’s good just to sit and not talk,” I eventually told her.  And that was all. 

After half an hour, we approached the mountains.  She took us on a single paved road through thick woods, driving up, steeper and steeper until she turned onto a dirt road with a metal gate across it, a “No Trespassing” sign attached. 

She handed me a key and I got out, unlocked the iron gate and swung it open.  She drove through and told me to lock the gate again.  We drove along a narrower dirt road for over a mile until we entered a small clearing with a log cabin.  She pulled up in front of the cabin, I took my cheap clothing and we went to the cabin.  She unlocked the door and we went inside.  She left the door open behind us.

The cabin was waiting, a retreat always ready.  It was spartan, clean and tidy, nothing out of place.  One large room and an attached bedroom.  The large room had a kitchen to one side, a desk, with the rest mostly a living room, with a fireplace.  She opened the cupboards, showing me canned and boxed food, including fruit juices.  There was even wine and beer, cold in a cooler she’d brought along.  There was no running water as such, but there was a pump built into the sink.

“This is great,” I told her.  “I need alone time–with you.” 

She told me, “I have to leave right away.”  

I had no words. 

“Sorry,” she said.  “Truly.  I want to be with you, now.  But I can’t.  It’s the worst risk.  You don’t show up for work, then I’m gone.” 

“I understand,” as unreluctantly as I could manage.  No point making her feel guilty in the middle of her taking a risk to help me.

“I can’t get away, not without attracting attention, until the weekend.  Normal off time.  It’s only a few days, Mike.” 

I took a breath.  “Of course.  I totally understand, and it’s okay,” I lied.  “But you’ll come back?” 

“Friday.  Only three days.  This place doesn’t have running water, although the sink pump draws from an underground well.  There’s no electricity, although there’s an emergency generator outside.  If it gets chilly, you’ll find outside, next to the generator, chopped wood for the fireplace.  It’s near the outhouse.  It’s not without modern conveniences, there is toilet paper.  You’ll figure it out.” 

I’d taken my breath, absorbing what she told me.  “I really appreciate this.  Any idea where it’ll go from here?”

“Not a clue.” 

We walked outside.  “Don’t use your phone,” she told me.  “Take out the chip and break it.”  When we reached it, she opened the passenger side door of the car, opened the glove compartment and took out a phone.  “Use this.  It’s a burner.” 

I stood there, holding the phone. 

She pulled me to her and kissed me.  I kissed back.  “Think of me, big boy.”  I watched her drive away and vanish among the trees. 

The mountain was steep.  I caught glimpses of her going back down the road.  There was a pause, her opening and closing the gate, then I saw her car on the larger road, until it disappeared. 

Sometimes, people can disappear. 

I saw a lot of the roads and, being high up, had an excellent view of the entire area.  It was a natural place for a security agent to select.  It would be difficult to approach without warning.  It was dark.  Without any lights, the night sky was clear and had remarkable depth.  I saw new stars and what might have been constellations.   

The outhouse was tidy.  There was a full roll on a spindle. 

I opened a beer and sat in a rickety chair on the front porch. 

Although the setting was romantic, I had escaped to a dead end. 

All I’d really escaped from was a comfortable house with cable TV.  I figured there was less than a week before ‘they’ figured out where I was.  Pinetree would guess quickly.  She’d let me go, she knew about my connection with Phyllis. 

Did Mr. Thick Guy know also? 

And–I was stranded.  Alone, no other buildings for miles except the cabin and outhouse.  I trusted Phyllis, but I could be discovered and units sent here at any time.  There were no escape routes if I was surrounded.  Except, perhaps, the thick forest surrounding the cabin. 

I doubted either Pinetree or Phyllis would have enough new information by the end of the weekend to get me out of the woods. 

I sat until sunset, leaving the beer untouched.  Exhausted, I went inside and fell on the bed into a troubled sleep.  Twice I woke, to go out and pee against a tree. 

Nightmares about the thick man.  Nightmares about death row.  Nightmares about my true self.  Nightmares about my new chapter.    

Chapter Twenty-One

A New Chapter

The next morning, after eating a canned breakfast, I walked outside.  It was peaceful.  I had nothing to do.  In the distance, I heard some birds.  The sky was clear, the sun bright, the woods inviting. 

I took my clothing off and transformed.  I left my clothing on the porch.  Suddenly I felt better.  The sun felt warm on my fur, the earth hard under my clawed feet.  I stretched my claws into it, drawing in scents and sounds.  Now I heard far more birds, heard animals move through the trees, took in deeply their scents.   

I spent the morning and some of the afternoon exploring the woods.  I saw rabbits, several times.  The first few darted away as I approached.  I learned what upwind was, and to follow it.  Then I spotted a third.  It was very cute.  I got within ten feet when it froze, suddenly jerked its head up, looked in my direction and shot off in the opposite. 

I ran after it, enjoying my muscles pumping.  Predator and prey.  I was faster, it knew tricks.   

I returned to the cabin and ate another cold canned meal, then sat on the front porch again, watching the sun until it set.  I wondered if Madeline or Melanie wondered where I was.  If they were trying to contact me. 

When it was late night, I went into the cabin, closing the door behind me this time.  That felt better.  The security here was good but safe was also good.  I’d had a solid work out and slept more comfortably, not waking until late morning.  Hearing crows just outside woke me. 

I warmed the breakfast this time, using the gas stove.  Eating something hot felt better.  Walking outside, again the day looked fine.  The area was clear, the sky cloudless. 

The day in the woods went even better.  I learned a lot about stalking, using the wind, using my muscles.  Towards the end of the afternoon, taking my time, searching, I finally came across a worthwhile prey.  Something larger, potentially dangerous.  It was a large buck, with full sharp antlers.  When I first came across it, it was fifty yards away, nibbling something.  It occasionally looked up, smelling, then bent, grabbed something and ate some more. 

I crouched, upwind, watching. 

The deer moved on.  I followed.  Not followed, stalked.  I stayed upwind, crouching, quiet.  I stalked him for almost an hour, until I was within maybe twenty feet. 

He would make good eating.  He was prey. 

But killing was what I’d come her to fight.  To repress.  I looked at the deer, not feeling the urge to attack.  That was okay, sort of.  Canned food again tonight.   

The buck saw me. 

Our eyes met. 

It immediately lowered its antlers at me, pawing the ground.  I felt its hostility, up front, animalistic.  My own anger surged in response. 

The buck charged.  So did I. 

At the last moment, I leapt up over its antlers, landing on its back.  My claws sank deep into its well muscled flesh.  It cried out with a startled groan.  Riding on its back, I leaned forward, grabbed its head and, with one powerful twist, snapped its neck. 

The buck collapsed under me. 

I collapsed with it, on its twitching body, claws in its flesh, panting.  Victorious. 

The buck’s dying scent was overwhelming. 

It never should have gotten angry at me.  If it had simply run away, it would not have become food.

I wanted to transform back, but it was a long way to the cabin, I had no shoes, the deer was very heavy, so I hauled it up and carried it across my broad, hairy shoulders.  I enjoyed its weight going home, that was part of the hunt.  Blood from its neck and back covered me.  At the cabin I left the deer outside, transformed back, pumped water into the sink and washed the blood off me.  I put on some of my new clothes and then I tried to figure out how to butcher it. 

Turns out, I had no idea, and it was gruesome. 

One chunk looked like a roast so I put on a spit over the fire.  I turned it regularly, enjoying more well water, until it must have been done because the smell was overwhelming and I tore off pieces.  It was a satisfying meal.  More than satisfying, much more. 

Beyond delicious. 

I felt one with nature, eating part of it. 

The next day I had venison steak for breakfast, seared on the outside, very rare on the inside.  I used a cast iron skillet on the gas stove.  Then I sat at the little table, savouring each piece, enjoying a drink from the jug of well water.  I heard a few birds outside, nothing else. 

The rest of the morning and early afternoon was spent burying the deer. 

It seemed only right. 

I spent time looking for the right spot.  It should be in view of the cabin, for some reason, but near the forest.  Somewhere it would be at peace–now that it had been dinner and breakfast.  I decided on a place at the edge of the clearing, near the road.  It helped the earth there was soft.  I found gardening tools, including a spade.  It took over three hours and two warm beers to dig a large enough hole. 

Even then, it did not quite fit.  I covered it with dirt but its antlers stuck out.  Just the antlers.  I decided to leave it that way, as a marker.  A marker for whoever stayed at the cabin, a marker for whoever came up the road. 

I kept a leg (for tomorrow.) 

Tomorrow was Friday.  Phyllis would come that night.  At least, I hoped so.  The burner phone remained quiet and I did not want to risk using it to call her if she wasn’t calling me. 

I did tidy. 

I had seen no one else.  I did not need food.  There was nothing to do but think about possibilities, and there were too many of those and none felt as if they ended well.  So I spent the day prowling the woods.  It felt like being myself.  I watched animals run from me.  I climbed a tall tree and hung on a thick branch, smelling the animals and plants below me.  It felt good, surveying my territory.  I felt ready for company, for solutions, for a new chapter in my life. 

I was still up there, nearing twilight, when I saw Phyllis’s car approach the base of the mountain. 

That was comforting, until I saw the second car.    

I hid in the trees as the two cars pulled up.  Phyllis drove one.  Then I saw in the second were Dr. Orwell and two men.  I stepped out of the trees and approached them. 

“Mike,” Phyllis said, “meet some of the group.”  I had looked forward to being alone with her.  It must have showed.    “Those three won’t be here long.  Too dangerous.  For them.  Then we’ll have time together.”   

“You’re psychic,” I told her.  “Hey Dr. Orwell.”  

“At this point, call me Fran.” 

The other two, men, I did not recognize.  One was thin and tall, the other shorter.  They sort of smiled at me but did not introduce themselves.  They looked at the road and skies.  We all went in, leaving the door open.  “Coffee?” I asked.  “I didn’t know when you were coming but I can start some now.” 

“No time,” Fran replied.  “We have under an hour.”

Phyllis sat next to me, pulling up a chair.  Dr. Orwell and the two men sat on the couch, facing us.  “Mike,” Phyllis said, “this is Tod and Bill.” 

They nodded.  It was tense.  They looked as uncomfortable as I felt. 

“I work at another base,” Tod said to me.  “Same type of research as you perform under Pinetree.  We’ve been told to speed up.  Get publicly acceptable soldiers.  Or units.”  That appeared all he was prepared to say.

Bill told me, “I work in government.  I administer the bases.  The people on the other side are in and out of office.  Governmental and nongovernmental.  They want to figure out how to use you, how to create better versions of you.  In fact, so does Tod and Pinetree and the rest.  We all want to use you.  Maybe they have an idea how.” 

They did not offer much beyond the assurance they were working on the situation. 

“The two corrections officers have disappeared,” Phyllis said.  “The official story is they took bribes from the inmates to smuggle in guns.  I’m told they’re on the run.  The third guard was honest, so the inmates killed her.” 

“Bribes from the inmates?” I asked.  “To smuggle guns onto death row?” 

“Yeah, no one believes it,” she told me.  “But someone either bought them or influenced them or used them.  The officers and at least some of the inmates.  To create an excuse, to use you.”  

“All those dead, for that?  Cold,” I said. 

“Yes,” Phyllis said. 

I looked at Bill.  “How do you want to use me?  What makes you better than Pinetree or the others?” 

He looked at Dr. Orwell.  She turned to me.  “They’ll ask you first.  And the top priority is exposing all this, not creating even more.” 

Bill shrugged.  Fran nodded.  That seemed to end the pleasant chatter.  I asked her to walk outside with me for a therapy chat.  We left the cabin and walked in circles around the clearing, away from everyone else still inside.  There was nowhere to go, but in circles. 

She asked, “How’s your time been up here?” 

“Good,” I told her.  “Been using my down time well.  Trying to combine my two selves.” 

“Driving up, I saw antlers in the ground.  That you?” 

“Yeah.  Couldn’t kill anything until a buck.  It got hostile and angry at me.  I cooked and ate it.  It felt natural, doctor.” 

“Fran.” 

“I responded naturally.  I’ve felt more at peace with it, my anger, out here.  Too bad I can’t stay here.” 

“No,” she told me. “We’re working on the situation.” 

“Are there more in the group?” 

“Yes.”  She nodded.  “It isn’t safe to even talk about them.  Meeting these two was taking a risk, for all of us.  But they wanted to meet you, feel you out.  See what you were willing to do.” 

“Do what?” 

“So far, they’re good guys.  I’m not sure they know themselves, except there is a rare opportunity.” 

 We strolled back to the cabin.  The air out there breathed good.  “I’m planning a new chapter in my life.”  

“Maybe it will be.  What’s the plan?”

“Too early to say.” 

By then Tod and Bill waited impatiently in the back of the car, Phyllis leaning in an open window, talking with them.  Dr. Orwell got behind the wheel with a wave to me.  She and Phyllis spoke a moment, I didn’t hear what.  Dr. Orwell and the two men spoke a moment, I didn’t hear what.  Then Phyllis and I watched them drive off. 

“Will this end up being all right?” I asked as we looked at the car go down the road. 

“It’s a huge stinking pile of crap,” she replied.  “How have you been?” 

I told her.  “Want to go on a run?” 

She grinned.  “Doubt I could keep up.  I’d like to talk.” 

I pulled another chair onto the porch.  We sat.  “What do you want to talk about?”

“Everything.  Anything.  There’s too much.  Let’s start with basics.  You killed a deer?”

“Yesterday.  I stalked it.  That was okay, I felt all right.  Then it saw me and turned hostile.  It was an obvious trigger.  Kaboom.” 

“Were you hurt?” 

“Not a scratch.”  We listened to the owls.  “You ever hunt?” I asked her.  “Kill anything?” 

“I’ve never hunted.  I have stalked.  That was work.  It’s in the past.” 

“How long in the past?  During the time I’ve known you?” 

“Let’s say more than five years ago.  Don’t ask.” 

“Asking is rude,” I replied.  “Sorry.  How about a walk in the woods instead of a run?” 

Phyllis knew this area well.  Walking with her was relaxing, pleasant.  We stopped and listened to birds or other animals.  Best was sitting on a big rock and looking at the starry night sky.  Out here it was dark and the sky particularly deep.  The moon was almost full. 

We got off the rock and down to the ground where we found grass and took off our clothing and lay together naked.  We kissed.  After a year of sex with her, this was completely different.  A different woman, a different me.  Before was mechanical.  I thought of other things.  Now I kissed her ear and whispered that I needed her. 

As an answer, she ran her hands up and down my back. 

We kissed and touched each other for a while.  I knew she was ready and entered her.  She invited me in and said, “Hello.”  I wanted to be inside her.  She wanted me inside her.  We were now together.  We moved together.  We were part of each other.  We would have felt part of everything around us, if we were aware of anything around us.    

For the first time, without me thinking, we came together. 

It was…satisfying.  Very satisfying. 

We returned to the cabin and she showed me how to wash up without running water.

When we woke the next morning, after making love again—I didn’t quite admit thinking of it to myself that way—and having some breakfast—she’d brought up eggs and bacon and bread–I said, as I washed up, handing her a plate, having delayed saying it until I was sure, “We should go back today.” 

She looked at me, taking the plate.  “Today?  It’s only Saturday.” 

“I’ve been very impressed that every day anything unusual happens, it becomes a risk.  If I go back now, I’ve just dodged the guards for a night.  Low risk.” 

“And what will you say you were doing?” 

“Going up here to be with you.”  She blinked.  “I think they’ll believe me.  Because, when we go back, you’ll move in with me.” 

She put down the plate.  “Whoa, Lone Ranger.”  

I handed her another.   “I kind of thought you were the Lone Ranger.” 

“Well—” 

“Don’t you want to?” 

“Well—”

“If you’re worried about cover, Pinetree has known about our…relationship…for over a year.”

“Cover?”

“You can tell her you can keep a better eye on me.  Or maybe that it shows I’m more stable.  They want both.” 

“Cover.”  She put down the second plate.  “You’re asking me to move in with you?” 

“Your apartment is probably too small.” 

“Mike.  That isn’t what I meant.” 

I kissed her.  “I’m asking you to move in with me.  Even if your apartment is small.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Even more so now.  You’re so cute, uncertain.” 

“Uh, well, what do you have in mind?” 

“A new chapter.  Part of it is being with you.  Living with you.  Sharing my life with you.  I need to change what’s happening at work.  I can’t do it alone, I don’t want to be alone.  It’s bad for me, if I don’t have the right person.  You.  To do a new beginning, I need you.  Not to work together, though we’ll do that.  I need you, to share with, to live with.  Phyllis, it’s the only way I can achieve a cure and become a better person.”   

She leaned close to me.  “My name isn’t Phyllis.  Actually, it really is Bridgette O’Shaughnessy.” 

“Does that mean you lie a lot?” 

“All the time.  Except with you.” 

“How do I know you’re not lying now?” 

She leaned in closer and kissed me.  Didn’t at all feel fake. 

As we drove back, she asked, “Can we talk about the stuff on your walls?”

The new chapter had begun.  We had become a couple. 

Chapter Twenty-Two

Coupling

My new chapter continued at Bridgette’s, where I helped her pack.  Her apartment was small and barely functional, crammed with clothing and books.  It was not very tidy.  There did not seem to be a lot of personal items.  When I asked about no personal photos, she said, “A lot of the past I’d rather forget about.  Don’t you?” 

“No, I think about it all the time,” I said, taking her clothes off hangers. 

“I’ve always wanted to live in a home, not a place,” she told me, putting her underwear into a suitcase. 

“To me it’s a place, although the living room is a nest.” 

Moving her things took two trips. 

As we unloaded the first time, I waved at the guards in the car outside my house and walked over to them.  “Sorry if you missed me,” I told them.  “Just away for overnight.” 

They looked at Bridgette carrying in boxes.  “New roommate?” 

When we arrived with the second load, they got out and helped.  It had a sort of family feel, security helping.  We gave them some coffee. 

While she was clearing more than half the closet and both chests of drawers, I went to the basement and carried up the two chests I’d carried down there after Madeline left. 

Then I had another call to make.  I phoned Pinetree and told her Bridgette was moving in.  Pinetree had let me go, why let her dangle?  “Glad to hear it,” she said.  “You coming in Monday?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I told her, wishing I could.  I could tell she was relieved.

I did not think of calling Madeline or Melanie. 

I returned to Bridgette, who told me “My name really is Phyllis,” and laughed. 

After rearranging our clothing—she had so many shoes! –Phyllis began a conversation about my movie posters.  We agreed to limit them to the bathroom.    

After lunch, we took a break, walking in the forest beyond my back yard.  It was a nice afternoon, peaceful.  I saw two guards, not carefully hiding behind trees.  We heard some birds, saw no animals but I showed her the tracks of rabbits, foxes and even a small bear.   

I showed her the garage and she said, “You can’t do that in the house.”  She paused and added, “But you can put your posters up here.”  She looked at the mess.  “You go nuts?”

“I needed to use my claws.  I was angry.” 

“Maybe we should leave it this way.  Man cave.”    

While she cooked dinner, I took the posters out of the bathroom.

We ate at the kitchen table.  It felt quiet and intimate.  Then we went for another walk in the woods.  “Like it?” she asked. 

“Not the same.  This afternoon was pleasant, that’s all.” 

“Want to transform?  It’s okay.  Go off on a run.  Feel those muscles.” 

I looked at her.  “I’d rather be me, here with you.  Phyllis.  If that is you.” 

“You’re such a romantic.  I had no idea.” 

She pulled me to her and we kissed.  Gently.  Trading. 

We fell asleep in bed, cuddling, trading memories we’d never revealed to anyone else. 

I woke Sunday morning to the soft feeling of her kissing my neck. 

Coffee was easy but we debated breakfast.  She loved lightly scrambled wet eggs with cheese and onions.  She called them swampy eggs.  She ate them delicately, a small section at a time, interspersed with toast spread with a jam she had brought.  I liked my eggs sunny side up.  I liked making a smiley face with the eggs as eyes and bacon as a mouth, and then eating it, dabbing toast into the eyes. 

I told her to make the scrambled eggs for both of us.  Nothing she did was wrong.  She smiled and made scrambled and sunny side up eggs.  And bacon, for the smile.    

We went to the nursery after breakfast and bought a new rose bush.  As we worked in the garden, patching the hole where the rose bush had been, I told her I was worried.  “It’s the anger,” he told her.  “It’s always there and I’m worried it will destroy everything.  As it did with Madeline.  I’m worried about us.” 

She said nothing, listening, carefully burying the roots.    

“Madeline and I started wonderful.  We both knew there were problems but thought we could overcome them.  The first years there were problems but we dealt with them.  But then I slowly spiralled away from her.  I was more into myself, into anger.  My anger came out, I had controlled it only at first. 

“She tried.  Therapists tried.  For half a year, I used meds which made me feel like a zombie.  In the end, I had to escape.” 

“But isn’t she still with you?” 

“Aren’t former lovers always still with us?” 

“Can’t argue with that.  But now you’re…friends?” 

“Not friends.  Acquaintances.” 

We stood back, looking at the new rose bush, hoping it would flourish. 

It was certainly a day of changes and adjustments for the two of us.  The biggest change in the house was in the bathroom.  Same as I’d experienced when Madeline and I moved in together.  Suddenly the bathroom was filled with bottles and boxes and jars, creams and salves and pills and make up.  A special hair towel I should never touch.  And panties in the sink.  I used to become furious, at times, when I went into the bathroom to wash my face and found panties in the sink.  What was I supposed to do with them?  Why were panties in the sink to begin with?  Was there something wrong with putting them in the clothes washer?  Or at least the bathtub?    

I removed the panties, washed my face and hands, then quietly refilled the sink and put the panties back home. 

She rearranged the cans in the cupboards, noting I had too much processed food.  I knew the contents of the fridge would soon change.  I was prepared to fight about ice cream but discovered she liked the cheap thrill of cold and flavour. 

We needed a break from setting up, so we went out to the two guards sitting in the car (they were listening to podcasts) we were going bowling and invited them to join us.  I never bowled, I lacked the coordination (and interest.)  We all went together and at the alley were a foursome.  On her first, Phyllis bowled a strike.  She had this wonderful approach, carefully measured, and then the ball kind of popped from her fingers and landed gently on the wood.  It went straight down the centre. 

I avoided gutter balls, for the most part.    

The two guards beat us, my score dragging us down. 

It was a good time and after we got back to the house, we thanked them and then left them sitting in their car.  They had work to do, sitting and listening to podcasts probably.  We were both tired of working.  For now, the house was organized enough.  We went inside and sat at the kitchen table, drinking tea and talking about what might happen tomorrow, Monday morning.  But something had been building all day.  Suddenly we left a trail of clothing to the bedroom and when we arrived naked, faces flushed, she surprised me. 

“Transform.” 

I broke off the kiss.  “Why?” 

Her smile carried deep undercurrents.  “The power,” she whispered.  “Don’t you like having that power?” 

I allowed myself to emerge, growing and stretching in front of her until I stood over her, hairy and muscular and powerful.  My wolfish eyes stared hungrily into hers.  Her eyes were as hungry as she pulled me down onto the bed. 

It was slow, not frantic.  She spread her legs.  I lay between them.  I laid my big strong body over her smaller, definitely less hairy one.  I could not kiss her but I licked her across her red lips with my broad hot tongue.  She sucked my tongue into her mouth.  It sounds gross but it was electric for both of us.  She was more energized than I had seen her before, more than the last year of having sex with her, even more than in the forest.

I slowly eased myself inside her as her mouth opened.  When I filled her, she again said “Hello.”  And then we entered into a slow rhythm, controlled by my powerful body steadily thrusting in and out for the longest most wonderful time until we came together and when we did, we both howled.    

It felt wonderful.  Later that night, as she slept, I lay next to her, wondering about what had just happened. 

How much did we both love sheer power? 

I drifted off as I thought about getting ready to start the new week.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Like Every Monday Morning

It was a new week and I wanted this to be like every Monday morning from now on. 

After a wonderful weekend, feeling like I was starting a new life, I kissed Phyllis good-bye as we left the house and went in our separate cars to our separate work.  I had no idea what she did during the day, except it was in security.  I was in a great mood and waved to the guards as I drove off and they followed me. 

As soon as I got into work and turned on my computer, I started my new week by reading an email asking us to another funeral that morning. 

This time, I carpooled.  Madeline drove.  I sat next to her.  Three of our colleagues sat in the back.  I looked at Madeline and thought of the weekend and Phyllis.  I had no idea if Madeline’s feelings would be hurt, but I decided not to risk it. 

“Who’s funeral are we going to?” I asked her.  “I just read the subject line.”

“Frank,” she replied. 

“Marshmallow guy,” said one of the people in the back.  “Poor schmuck.” 

“He was disappointed with his reaction to the serum the first time,” Mary said, keeping her eyes on the road.  “So he tried it again Friday night.” 

The night I started my new chapter. 

“He turned into the same marshmallow balloon kind of thing,” said the person in the back seat.  “He bounced around his lab until he hit the syringe his assistant injected him with.  It popped a hole and Frank deflated.  They could not revive him, only fold him up.” 

The funeral was a same sombre affair, the priest again trying to inspire us to continue working.  At the end, Pinetree motioned to me and asked me to ride back with her. 

“I thought you should see the next test,” she told me. 

“We’re doing more?  After two funerals?” 

“Can’t stop.” 

In the car, I asked, “Who’s getting the shot this time?” 

“Mark.” 

“Mark?  He’s full of himself.” 

“That’s the idea.  Positive.  He had the highest ego score of anyone we tested.” 

Her driver parked in her reserved space in the underground garage, then Pinetree led me upstairs to the test lab. 

“The test is now?” I asked in the elevator.

“I asked for more time,” she replied, “but we can’t wait.” 

The lab was again set up with the cage and chair, with several people waiting.  Less staff than the first two tests–the less who saw it made for better morale given the history.  Mark paced.  He was tall, muscular, clean shaven, starting to go bald.  There were strange marks on his forehead where he’d had hair implants. 

Mark was a talented scientist and made sure everyone knew.  It was not bravado.  Many of his projects, more than most others’, succeeded.  He recruited a talented assistant, which helped.  His ego allowed him that, to share the work, but he grabbed as much credit as humanly possible.  Today he wore a tight tee shirt and gym pants, to show off his bulges. 

Pinetree and I took seats facing the cage.  Mark walked in, with his assistant and two guards.  The guards strapped him in.  Mark was very confident, beaming at us.  He nodded to his assistant, who injected him in the arm with a yellow liquid.  Then the three stepped out of the cage, closing the door and stepping back, to watch. 

The transformation started.  I realized my heart was racing and I was gripping my knees as I watched.  The last times had gone strangely.  And ended horribly. 

This serum worked better.  Mark grew, proportionately, until he was eight feet tall.  His clothing ripped apart as his body became powerful, thick, muscular.  His hair grew in and he even developed a spit curl.  His penis was very large.  And erect.

Mark beamed at us.  He looked like Superman, except perhaps for the penis.  Then he grunted.  I saw his eyes appear to grow desperate.  His handsome face was frozen.  I realized Mark was trying to move.  Sweat broke out on his smooth forehead.  His bulging muscular arms trembled but he could not make them move.  Even his fingers remained stiff. 

“What is it?” Pinetree asked, leaning forward. 

“I think it’s that he’s too full of himself,” I replied. 

And then Mark’s arms stopped trembling.  His skin took on a grayish white sheen as his skin rapidly turned into marble.  His eyes stopped moving.  Mark stood in front of us, a marble statue, chiselled with perfection, of a brave super strong man gazing up to the sky with a powerful look on his face. 

His assistant opened the cage door and rushed inside.  He felt Mark’s face, then his arms and chest.  He slapped the face to get a reaction. 

A plaque formed on the bottom of the statue: MARK. 

A medic rushed in with a stethoscope.  She got no reaction.  She tried to shoot adrenalin into Mark but the syringe’s needle broke on the marble skin. 

Pinetree stood.  She looked at me.  “Another goddamn funeral.  Don’t bother saying it.  Never should have allowed this.  Thank god the other labs aren’t this far along.”  And she walked out, shaking her head.  For the first time, I saw her experiencing regret.  I think she went off quickly to be by herself. 

Madeline had not been at the test.  I sought her out, she was in her lab, and told her about Mark. 

“Obviously, the serum worked.  But what it brought out killed him.”

“Frank was a dull creampuff,” she replied quietly, with more than a trace of anger.  “Arnold hated himself and Mark thought too much of himself.  The serum brought all that out.  They were all bad choices.  It’s disturbing it killed him.  I hate this.” 

“It works for me.”

“It works for you because it is anger.  If we’re learning from this, that’s the direction future projects should take.  I don’t see any other emotion working.” 

“So they have to find someone really angry to test the serums on.” 

“They’re looking.  I’m not sure where.” 

It was depressing. 

I returned to my lab.  My cell phone rang.  I looked at the screen.  Melanie. 

“Hey dad.  Not much time to talk.  I’m moving in with mom this weekend.  Thought you should know.” 

“Do you want me to come over?  Help?”

“No.  Gotta go.  I’ll talk more after.” 

After what?  I put the cell phone down, grateful she had not asked about work, wishing my new chapter involved her and Madeline.  I wanted to phone Phyllis but I did not know where she was or what she was doing. 

I had lunch in the cafeteria, eating with colleagues.  One even made room for me.  We talked about Mark and why we were rushing the projects.  No one wanted to be the next test subject.  Everyone was worried and frightened about the future. 

I spent a lot of the afternoon in my first normal Monday back at work in my new chapter worrying about how horrible it was. 

I had an ally, to a point, in Pinetree.  But she was up against something huge, enough to give her directions to speed up despite her objections.  And I was increasingly central to whatever the larger mystery was because I was the only subject on whom a serum had worked.  My first Monday at work got better when I drove home, followed of course, and found Phyllis waiting for me. 

It was unsettling that she asked me to transform again, for sex. 

My morale was not great.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Morale

Instead of a gravestone, Mark himself was used.  He was placed over an empty grave.  He looked very nice, a glorious marble statue looking up to…something. 

Very few attended the service. 

By now, morale at The Academy was at an all time low.  It used to be good—we were working on innovative projects for the good of the nation.  After three deaths, almost everyone had begun to question what they were doing—and what would happen to them if they were used to test a serum. 

That afternoon, Pinetree sent an email to all staff stating she was concerned about morale and inviting suggestions.  Morale was impacting productivity.  My email was that we stop all work until we figure out how to perform our research safely.  Her solution, as announced the following morning, was to be more fun and hand out prizes. 

It was fascinating.  I saw it as a sort of additional study of my colleagues and started taking notes.  What would be the result of the attempt to manipulate their emotions? 

Before, they hid their anger and frustrations beneath the veneer of office politeness.  Early on, as children, we learn to hide our anger in the playground.  If we don’t, we get beaten up.  As adults, if we don’t, we don’t hold jobs and live alone. 

My colleagues hide their anger in many ways, subtle and obvious.  They isolate themselves, to avoid anyone seeing them.  They snap or become brittle.  They mumble to themselves.  You walk softly around them.  They criticize when they normally avoid it.  Their clothing becomes wrinkled, even shabby.  Men grow beards.  Women stop being pleasant on autopilot.

Moments of rage are so unusual they became legendary, the person unable to escape their actions. 

Like me. 

I had already noticed a tendency of colleagues having worried looks.  They no longer bothered to give me a wide birth.  I began giving some of them more space, especially the ones who mumbled to themselves.  I tried initiating conversations about our work, but everyone was either intimidated by the secrecy of their own work—we did not know what the other was specifically working on—or they were, to put it simply, freaked out. 

Freaked out by the freaks we had created. 

Morale was a huge issue.  Something had to be done as the work had to continue.  Changes began the day after Pinetree’s email. 

That next day became “Mystery Food Tuesday” in the cafeteria.  Each steam tray was heaped with something unrecognizable–in that sense, the offerings were not unusual.  But today the food was of all colours, most bright and unusual for food.  Some were purple lumps in an orange sauce.  Anyone who guessed what their lunch was won a free desert. 

A box of fresh donuts appeared each morning on the reception desk.  Each day, one of them contained a hidden $100 (coupon for the cafeteria.)  You found out when you bit into it and tasted paper.    

“Casual Thursday” was introduced.  We were encouraged to wear non-office clothing.  Madeline wore loose yoga pants and a sweat shirt.  I wore jeans and a hoodie.  Maurice dressed in a gorilla outfit.  There was a vote each Thursday for best outfit, Maurice won the first. 

Everyone liked “No Meetings Wednesdays.” 

Fridays during lunch in the cafeteria movies were shown.  To cheer us up, they chose Pinocchio.  Most staff walked out, seeing it as an allegory about themselves and their work.  The film for next week, Psycho, was cancelled and the staff person scheduling the movies was demoted.

A higher ranking general than Pinetree was brought in to give the staff a pep talk.  We’d never seen or heard of him before.  His uniform was impressive and his chest covered with medals.  We sat listening as he told us about what we did.  He insisted it was important.  When he asked for questions, there was dead silence and angry eyes. 

Another way to hide anger is silence.  Do not respond.  Do not encourage.  Just stare. 

As it was civil service, people are considered lucky to be employed in a solid job it was difficult to be fired from.  Raises are in steps, I hit the top five years ago.  Bonuses are unheard of, except for the managers.  Starting this week, when we did something worthy, supervisors handed out rolls of candy.   

As far as I know, no one showed for the afterhours costume party.   

Phyllis did join the new bowling league. 

Ironically, to a small degree, staff morale was improved because we complained to each other.  That was new.  Workers usually grunt a bit but are careful about criticisms.  Now the concerns were no longer concealed but boiling over.  We talked over lunch, we met in twos and threes in our labs.  The talk was short and bitter.  People wanted an assurance they would be safe.

I talked with Madeline only occasionally.  She avoided me.  I recognized the anger in her.  I texted Melanie and asked her to come to the mall.  I didn’t ask her to the house, I was still uncertain about introducing her to Phyllis.  We met in a small, quiet mall café. 

“Mom’s a mess,” she told me after a brief silence as we settled in.  “What’s going on?” 

“It’s work, not me,” I told her.  “It’s falling apart.  Everyone is scared to continue their work.  There have been three funerals from experiments gone wrong.  I shouldn’t tell you that.” 

“Experiments like yours?”

“Yes, but mine worked out.  Theirs were disasters.” 

“What can I do for mom?” 

All I could think of was for her to offer support.  I could not tell her details of our work.  I had no idea what Madeline shared with her, but she also was probably very careful.  And Melanie, having grown up with us, knew better than to ask.  She left, saying she had arranged a performance exhibit at a local art gallery and had to work on it. 

It didn’t escape me she did not ask what she could do to support me. 

I wondered what I could do to improve morale, and quickly decided I did not care.  The research into my colleagues was interesting but, more important, while everything felt suspended I could quietly continue work on a new serum, for me. 

That was certainly good for my morale. 

Home was better.  Settling in and compromising made every evening a surprise, all pleasant and fun and innocent.  I used to watch movies.  Now we played double solitaire, it was better, it was together.  We also played gin rummy and cribbage.  Phyllis was remarkably good at all of them.  I rarely won. 

Once I saw her double dealing from the bottom of the deck.  I said nothing. 

After all, it was all for fun.  I had her support, sharing with her even though she could share none of her work with me.  Occasionally, I transformed and ran off into the forest, enjoying being by myself, being myself.  I tried not to outpace the guards.  Their morale was also important.  I couldn’t imagine a job where you sat and watched, waiting for something to happen.  To help their morale, I suggested podcasts they had never heard of.  One of them gave me a roll of candy, which he’d been given by his supervisor. 

It was an unsettled time.  We were all waiting for the next stage. 

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Next Stage

When you start sharing your life with a person you become involved in a mystery.  Who is this person?  What do they want?  What do they like?  Why are they with you?  There are clues to unravel along with information and incidents which must be ignored if you are to continue together.  It’s like walking into a haunted house and wondering whether you should go into the basement.

Perhaps ‘haunted house’ is not the best analogy for a successful approach to a relationship.

I had come up with the idea of the serum and pressured Mary to create it, all to improve my personal life.  Now I was living with a woman I’d met at an escort service, who was in fact not an escort but who worked for the government, spying on me.  About her I knew nothing.  Probably not even her real name. 

I had to have a real talk with Phyllis.  Not so much what she had done in the past, although that worried me, but now.  What was her work?  Was I still an assignment?  Was I work or did I mean something to her?  If I was work, did it matter? 

It had been a welcome week of companionship, but also unsettling.  Phyllis was a mystery.  I needed to know more.  The basement had to be entered. 

I went home that night and we cooked dinner together.  We ate a pleasant supper, then went into the backyard and sat on lawn chairs, looking at the forest and the sky.  I brought a bottle of wine and two glasses.  For a while, we sat comfortably, sipping, looking at the clouds.  She talked about the new bowling league.

I wanted to continue being comfortable, but there was only one way I could do that.  “Phyllis, I have a couple of questions.” 

“Questions?” 

I took a breath and leapt.  “Am I still work?  An assignment?” 

She looked at me, also took a breath.  “Of course.”

“Of course?”

“Sure.  Otherwise, Pinetree would never have let me move in.  I told her I could keep a closer eye on you.” 

“Yes, the excuse.  I didn’t mean it that way.”  I was feeling my way.  “So.  Do you report on us?”

“What she needs to hear.  Nothing important.  Nothing about us.”

“Tell me about your other work.  Apart from me.” 

“Oh, come on.  It’s top secret.”  She smiled, trying to brush it off. 

My work’s top secret.  You know about that.” 

There was a long pause.  She sipped a little wine and sat up.  “Very good.  I knew this would happen.  Fine.  I’m assigned to internal security.  Surveillance of staff on all the research bases.  I report directly to Pinetree.” 

“You’ve been gone a couple of nights.” 

There was another long pause. 

“I want to tell you the truth.  I do.”  She seemed sincere.  “Yes, I’m more than surveillance.  I’ve been an agent for years.  I’ve spied.  And what goes with it.” 

“Our work has similarities,” I told her, knowing it was weak. 

“None at all,” she replied, a bit tense. 

“We both work for the government,” I tried again.  “We both engage in questionable work.”

“Yeah.  Fair enough.  Better.”  She finished her wine.  “I’ve felt good, living with you.  I know you’re trying to make it work.  So am I.  If us being together feels strained at times, Mike—I’m used to being someone else.  To being a cover.  A ghost.  With you, I’ve let me be myself.  It’s a little frightening.  I’ve never lived with anyone, not like this.  It’s a challenge.”  She put the empty glass down.  “I’m sorry if it’s been tough.”

“It hasn’t been,” I lied.  We were on a similar page.  Or seemed to be.  What she said hit all the proper marks–and, if I was still her work, was exactly what she would say.  Still, Phyllis was part of the resistance group.  Or was she also spying on it?  All I had to go on was feeling her warmth, her affection.  That was hard to fake.  I believed it was real. 

Then there was sex with her, wanting me when transformed.  Okay, that was weird.  But if she was attracted to power, and I was powerful when transformed–so?  If it was innocent, just what turned her on, I could accept that.  I wanted to accept that. 

I did not want to be alone.  It had to be innocent. 

More important than any of that, I realized I was not angry.  Disturbed–not angry.  That was a positive.  Perhaps compassion and affection, whether towards something real or not, cancelled anger. 

Perhaps this relationship was my cure. 

We went quiet for a while and the bottle of wine just sat there so I suggested a walk in the forest.  Occasionally I caught a glimpse of a guard behind us, but they were discrete.  We walked, listening to the sounds of the forest.  The sounds we heard tonight were teenagers laughing, deep in the bushes. 

“What can I do to make it better?” she asked, taking my hand. 

I had not touched her since coming home, I realized.  Not even a kiss.  “You can always make it better.”  And I kissed her.  She kissed back. 

It only felt reassuring. 

“I don’t think so,” she said, pulling back.  “Where are you?” 

“I feel like I’m falling and can’t see the bottom.” 

“Fight it,” she said with a grimace.  “Your work is horrible.  Orwell and I and others are working to stop it.  You have to stick it out.” 

“And get it cut off?  Orwell’s group wants to use me.” 

“They do,” she agreed.  “But they have no idea how.  They’re desperate, Mike.  They’re up against something enormous.  That’s all.  They need time, which we may not have.” 

She took my hand and we continued walking.  The teenagers laughing faded, it became quiet, then we heard more laughter from the bushes up ahead.  After they faded, I said, “You know who I’ve killed.” 

Her grip on my hand tightened.  “You want to do this?  Very well.  It’s been a while.  There was seven years ago, Budapest.  He was a double agent about to sell out ten of us.  Knife.” 

I waited. 

“Okay.  Fine.  Good.”  She looked directly at me.  “Last week.  The two guards.” 

We stopped.  She looked directly at me.  “I was told to make it look like they committed suicide.  What I learned was they were part of a conspiracy to create an incident.  They were a willing sacrifice.” 

“A sacrifice?”

“Someone on the cabinet level wanted to know what you could do.  They were disappointed with your actions at the research base.  The lives did not matter.” 

“The cabinet?  Who?”

“I wasn’t on a need to know.” 

We continued our walk in the forest, no longer holding hands, occasionally passing bushes where people moaned and laughed.  I tried to feel better.  But.

She had killed two men—just last week. 

The two men I had saved.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Revealing Truths

The next night, I decided to see Melanie’s performance installation.  The subject was government sanctioned killing.  Phyllis stayed behind. 

I had never seen in person one of her installations, just photos and videos.  I hadn’t avoided them, she just never told me about them.  She invited me to this one. 

I walked into her artistic world, the world she had moved into, lived in.  The world created by her mind, from nothing but her thoughts.  The product of Madeline and myself.  She had grown up questioning, even turning rebellious about aspects of our society.  I can’t imagine it was our influence–we always lied to her about our work. 

There were quite a few people there.  She already had a reputation, from what I overheard waiting in line.  Her work was very socially conscious.  I always admired her being an artist, though the socially conscious part left me uneasy about where she would go.  We tried to bring her up with good ideals but to be careful about challenging the system.  I had read reviews, online, of her previous installations.  Her ideals were great but I was concerned about the challenge part, in part for her.  Surveillance. 

The installation was in a large art gallery downtown.  Because of the crowd I had to wait to get in.  Once you got in, it was a one-hour experience.  She did three a night, I managed to get into the last. 

I entered a long corridor along with about thirty people.  On either side were large black and white photos of gravestones.  Drum music played rhythmically in the background.  The corridor led into a large open room.  The walls had projected colour photos of scientists in white lab coats hovering over victims strapped to tables, holding hypos.  The victims were terrified. 

In the centre of the room was a man strapped to a table, like the ones in the photos.  A Bach organ cantata began playing.  A figure wearing a lab coat and gas mask entered from a side door, walked up to the struggling man and pulled out a hypo.  The figure yanked off the gas mask, revealing Melanie. 

Her face was painted a ghostly white.  Her eyes were black holes.  She stared at the man.  “I need you for the national purpose,” she told the man in a ghastly voice.  Then she injected him and he screamed. 

“Give me the antidote!” he cried.

Her grin was evil.  “First we must see what happens.” 

The man groaned.  Melanie turned towards us.  “Welcome not to the future.  Welcome to today.  Where the government experiments on us in many ways and the media ignores it.”  The images on the walls changed to photos of biological weapons and their impacts, all with lines through them, with the words ‘not broadcast.’  “Secrecy is our national interest.  Covering up is the goal.  Who benefits?” 

She saw me in the crowd.  We exchanged one long look.  And then she danced to a collection of Beatles music, whirling in her lab coat as the images changed—police smiling, troops waving, people injured in war with fake smiles photoshopped onto their faces.  A yellow submarine.

She danced to the man strapped to the table, who broke the strap on his right arm and grabbed her by the throat.  As she struggled, he drew her down to him.  And then the lights went out.  We stood in darkness.  After a pause, the lights came back on, and Melanie and the man took their bows. 

There was a crowd around her, congratulating her.  I waited quite a while until they left. 

Then she walked out, nodding for me to follow.  Her dressing room was hastily put together.  I waited until she put on street clothes, then she let me in. 

“Glad you made it,” she said.  “That was our fourth evening, three more to go.  What did you think?”  Her look at me was not exactly daring.  She was tense.

I was an encouraging dad: “Very dramatic.” 

“I want you to like it.  I thought you would.  I know you hate what you do.  Dad, it’s about the media.  About lies,” she told me.  “It wasn’t about you and mom.  Not specifically.” 

I told her I understood.  She told me she wanted to talk about it with me, later, but she had to go, to meet her team.  I could see she was nervous, discussing her piece, so I thanked her for the experience, told her she was a terrific artist, and left. 

I needed to talk.  She did not want to talk with me, at least not now.  Madeline was not likely.  Phyllis was the only one left.  I phoned.  She did not answer.  I walked out of the gallery, wondering what I should do. 

Outside, I walked by a pharmacy and looked at the posters for new meds on the windows, with problems about the meds in tiny print at the bottom.  I saw a billboard promoting a new movie that was terrible.  A video channel above the street showed the news—tanks were shooting at something, with the subtitle ‘collateral damage.’  A bus went by with a large photo of a smiling woman on the side.  She was a politician, running for office.  There was no information about her or her goals, only her smile. 

It was a long drive home.  On the radio was constant pop music about being in love or wanting love.  I heard news reports on the radio about vital things in distant lands but little about vital issues here. Switching stations made no difference—on the hour, they all had news reports with the same stories. 

Road signs provided choices about where to go. 

We are all the victims of false advertising, from companies wanting to make profits or governments wanting to profit from us.  I drove past strip malls full of signs promising me most anything I wanted, and if I drove farther, anything. 

When I did drive farther and reached home, Phyllis and a suitcase were gone.  She left a short note: ‘We were too fast.  Thought it better this way.”    

“It was getting tense, so I thought I’d move out,” Phyllis told me when I phoned.  “What happened was very sudden.  I had a great excuse to do it.  But there’s too much to sort out for it to work as it was.” 

I told her I was coming over.  I was entitled to my say, I told her.  She said okay.  I hung up first.  I drove over.  I don’t remember how I drove, my mind was blank.  I had to see her.  I had no idea what I would say.  I could not leave it like this.

She let me in and we sat on the couch, on opposite ends.  On the floor was the suitcase she’d packed and brought here.  It was still unopened.  I noticed I was not angry, not the anger I was familiar with. 

“Was it the two guards?” 

“I crossed a line.” 

“I can deal with that.  Yes, I saved them.  But from nothing.  They probably had a deal with the inmates not to harm them.” 

“Yeah,” she replied.  “That’s what they told me.” 

“You spoke with them?” 

She sighed.  “Like I said, I crossed a line.  Now another one.  Personal needs overrule work.” 

“Personal needs?  So you want to stay?” 

She stood, walked around the couch, straightening things.  Not that there was much to straighten.  “I’ve never lived with anyone before, Mike.  Not like this.  I did it for work, yes.” 

This was good to hear.  “Are you going to keep straightening stuff?  You moved most of it out.” 

She laughed, a little, and sat back on the couch. 

“Okay,” I said, “so what’s so hard about living with me?” 

She laughed a little more.  “Nothing.  That’s the problem.”  I said I didn’t see the problem and she sighed.  “I have to compromise.  I don’t know if I’m ready.  If I can.” 

“So this is not about work?  It’s about living together?”  She nodded.  “Look, every relationship is different.  Everybody begins with compromises.” 

“I’m not used to compromising.  It isn’t in my DNA.  That’s why I’m good at my work.” 

We sat for a while. 

Finally, I told her, “This is stupid.”  Then I stood and took off my clothing and transformed.  I looked down at her and growled.  She kind of growled back and we grabbed at each other and let out our frustrations on her living room floor. 

It was good.  As good as always. 

We lay on the floor after, sweating.  I had transformed back, it was easier to talk.  “We don’t have to live together,” I told her.  “I could rent you a room in the basement.” 

She leaned over and kissed me. 

Phyllis, if that was her name, picked up the suitcase as we left.  She never unpacked.  I felt I had worked with her to solve a, well a couples crisis.  Without anger. 

We drove back to the house. 

I was pretty sure we were a couple.  Nothing was really resolved except we were being honest with each other. 

The guards followed me there and us back.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Madeline Gets Another Word

He’s only willing to give me another word because he needs me.  He’s using my love.  He’s not so different, in that. 

When he phoned, I wanted to say no.  I did.  He called back.  He wanted to come to my apartment.  That was my safe space.  I told him to meet me in the underground garage, that I’d be waiting in my car. 

I could guess what he wanted to talk about.  Much of that half hour was spent guessing.  When he drove up half an hour later, I opened the passenger side door and let him come in and sit with me. 

“Want to go anywhere?” he asked as he closed the door. 

“No.”  I had decided to wait and let him tell me what the urgency was.  The new serum?  Pinetree?  Melanie and her installation?  I’d seen it opening night.  Experiencing it left me feeling hollow.  The installation was a spotlight on my life.  And left me realizing my life had been a series of terrible mistakes. 

He looked at me and said, “I want to talk about where we went wrong.” 

I was immediately uncomfortable.  “Why?  What do you mean?  We’ve been through it all before.” 

He looked just as uncomfortable, I realized.  “Madeline, I’m in a new relationship.  I don’t want it to go wrong.”  And he looked at me. 

I looked back, probably, but I’m not sure what I saw.  “What?” 

“It’s with a woman named Phyllis.  I’ve been involved with her for a year.” 

“Why are you telling me this?  You should go.”  I felt tense and wanted to throw something at him. 

“Anger isn’t a problem with her.  Being a couple is.” 

“Why should I care?” 

He looked at the floor. 

I felt the tension drain, replaced by guilt.  He looked wrecked.  Damn. 

It was quiet for a while, then I asked him to tell me what the problem was.  “It started a year ago, when I called an escort service.  I saw her once a week.  Then, a couple of weeks ago, after the serum, things changed.  I learned she was not an escort but worked for Pinetree.  She’s been an agent for years. 

“The sex is great but she left last night.  I talked her back.  But she’s worried about being a couple.  She’s always been a lone wolf.” 

I sat and thought.  My ex was asking for advice about how to be a couple in what sounded like the most bizarre couple relationship ever.  He had been seeing a hooker?  And now they were living together and he wanted advice? 

“I should call her and tell her to forget it,” I mumbled.  He heard. 

“I need to make this work,” he told me.  “I think she needs it too.” 

Here I had been thinking my life had been a series of terrible mistakes.  One of them sat in the car with me.  I wished I still did not love him, even if I had by now distanced myself.  Although now I felt I was not nearly as distant enough. 

His anger was the ultimate reason I had to leave him.  The weight was oppressive, the anticipation constant.  Life was impossible sitting on the crater of an active volcano. 

“You said she left and you talked her back.  Why did she leave?” 

He sighed.  “She said it was work.  I’m not sure what I can tell you.” 

“What kind of work?”

“Killing people.” 

I gave that some thought.  “I can see how that might be an issue.” 

“Wasn’t that much for me.  She said they were a sacrifice.  Part of a larger conspiracy, going all the way up.  She thought she’d told me too much.  But that was only the motivator.  She was worried about being a couple, about compromising.” 

“What about seeing Dr. Orwell?”

“She’s part of a conspiracy also, a conspiracy against the conspiracy.  I’m not sure what I can tell her.  If I say the wrong thing to anyone, Phyllis might be forced to leave.” 

“I can’t believe you’re coming to me with this,” I finally said. 

“I couldn’t think of anyone else,” he replied. 

“Is she worried about Melanie’s installation?  It hits close to home.” 

He shook his head.  “She doesn’t know about it.  Maybe she does.  I don’t know.” 

“What about you?” 

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

I could have hated him for saying that, to me.  I’d been alone since I’d left him. 

“Well, then.  Every day is a new one, isn’t it,” I told him.   “Both of you have to make it work and, if you share enough, it will.  Jesus Christ Mike, I don’t know what else to say.” 

“That was pretty good,” he told me. 

“What about Melanie?” 

“I don’t think they’ll do anything.” 

“That isn’t what I meant.  You haven’t talked to her about this.  She would have told me.” 

“No.  Don’t know how.” 

He had always dumped crap on me.  I tried to escape, left him, set myself up on my own.  I should have quit, left him completely.  If only I could have done that.  The serum had seemed a way out—at least I could give him something, maybe his life would settle. 

Being together and untogether is a lot of work.    

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Halloween Hero

I felt overdue seeing my therapist.  Life had become very confusing and I needed help weaving all the separate strands into a thick quilt that I could then lie under.  It would be quiet under the quilt. 

I sat on her couch, Dr. Orwell opposite me, no quilt in sight.  I gobbled the cookies.  “Tough times?” she asked. 

“I feel like transforming and ripping things apart.  That’s what this is supposed to be about.” 

“You sound angry.”

“Frustrated.”  I got up and paced.  “You?”

“Pinetree has me working psychological profiles.  I’ve reviewed files from institutions.  Prisons.  Asylums.”  I told her that sounded like a very bad idea and she told me she and Pinetree agreed.  But there was pressure to produce more of me. 

It was all talk, frustrating talk.  I needed release.  “Take tonight off,” she told me.  “Go out this evening.  Tonight’s Halloween.”  

So that was why all the cafeteria food was orange. 

Going out for Halloween sounded like a reasonable idea, at least different.  And I could do it with Phyllis.  I went home at the end of the day, after stopping at the grocery store, and met Phyllis.  We smiled at each other and kissed but it felt awkward, almost distant.  “We need to do something together,” I told her. 

She stopped the nothing she was doing.  “Like what?” 

“It’s therapy.  You know what tonight is?”  She shook her head.  “Halloween.  And we’re going out, together.  We’ll do something together that has nothing to do with work, or anything else we’ve done before.  You good?” 

“I already have a costume in mind.” 

When it was dark and the street was full of kids we got ready to go out.  I poured the candy I’d bought into a bowl and put it on the porch.  Back inside, Phyllis put a white sheet over her head, covering herself.  She’d cut out two holes for her eyes. 

“What’s the costume?” 

“I’m a ghost.” 

I grinned.  “Appropriate.  Here’s mine.”  And I threw off my clothing and transformed.  I looked at us in the hallway mirror.  We were perfect for a fun night out. 

It was dark, with a half moon.  The sky was clear.  It was enchanting.  A ghost and a werewolf walked together down my front steps.  Although I was heavy, my steps felt light.  I think Phyllis was skipping.    

We stopped at the sidewalk as the children and their parents swarmed around us.  The kids were dressed as everything from monsters to pirates to doctors.  There were several mad scientists, their lab coats quite well done, a lot like mine.  About half the kids had store bought costumes, the others carefully sewn homemade outfits.  Mini-me werewolves dotted the street, as super soldiers.  The parents dressed as themselves. 

As I towered over them, hairy and bristling, the parents complimented me on my costume and the kids felt up my hair.  They told me I looked like the Super Solider from the bank. 

I was the best on the street.  It was fun. 

Phyllis and I walked together, enjoying the kids’ giggling and laughter, the opposite of what their costumes depicted.  Of course, for them Halloween was not about being scary.  It was about candy.  The streets were full, the kids going house to house, parents staying a bit behind, watching while chatting with each other. 

It was lovely until we came upon the police car. 

An officer told us the pharmacy had been burglarized, the narcotics safe opened.  It happened moments ago–the burglars had just fled.  The officers were waiting for backup.  Without even thinking, I volunteered.  “You’ll lose them.  I can find them.” 

At first they refused, looking at me up and down.  I told them I was wearing the special suit I’d worn at the bank. 

“That’s a suit?” one cop said.  “Doesn’t look like a suit.” 

“I can help you.”  I pointed to the two guards who had followed us from the house, who flashed badges. 

“Fine, wolf man.  Go get them.  But you find them, call us.  “Don’t do anything.” 

“I have a partner.”  I stepped away from them.  Phyllis pulled off the sheet.  “They went in the back,” I told her.  The scent was clear.  Three people, men.  Wearing clothing which had not been washed recently.  

It’s easy to track prey which does not wash. 

The two guards stayed discretely behind. 

We went to the rear of the building and found a door open.  I looked at their tracks and smelled their scents, then loped off down the dark street, Phyllis running by my side. 

Soon we were back among the houses.  The half moon was bright, providing just enough light.  We ran past the parents and their kids, leaving them behind, coming to an area where the houses were dark.  Except one large house down the street, whose ground floor lights burned. 

“I’ll call the cops,” Phyllis said. 

“We can handle this,” I growled. 

Her eyes were bright. 

We circled the large house once, then stopped at the front porch.  The two guards leaned against a tree by the sidewalk, watching.  One was talking into her cell phone. 

“What do you think?” Phyllis asked. 

“They’re all on the ground floor,” I told her.  “Five.  All men.  The three we tracked and two more.  I smell gun grease.” 

She thought only a moment.  “Front door, back door?  I knock in front, a diversion, you go in through the back.  We meet inside.” 

I licked her face. 

She sucked on my long tongue. 

We were excited. 

I loped around the house to the back door.  It was locked.  I waited.  When I heard Phyllis knock on the front door, I yanked at the doorknob.  The lock broke and I quietly pulled the door open and stepped into the kitchen. 

I paused, taking in the scents, now better.  Five males, nearby.  I listened.  Phyllis was asking if her daughter had come by for trick and treat.   A man said no. 

I crept from the kitchen down the hallway.  I saw her standing at the front door, talking to the man.  He had a pistol tucked into the back of his pants.  When she saw me over his shoulder, Phyllis made a move to leave and then whirled and punched the man in the stomach, then kicked him hard in the groin. 

He fell over, clutching himself, gasping for breath.  She took his gun. 

We both went into the living room.  Four men sat smoking.  A pile of drugs in boxes was on a table in the centre of the room.  The men saw a werewolf and a woman with a gun and three of them scrambled.  One went for a pistol in his waistband.  He was twelve feet away.  I leapt the distance and the pistol went off as I grabbed his hand and yanked.  Then I punched him in the face and he keeled over. 

Behind me, Phyllis had flipped one man, then stood on his neck while pointing the pistol at the other. 

The fourth man sat frozen on the couch, halfway through a vape.  “Jesus Christ!” he cried.  “I give up!” 

We pulled them together and I discovered Phyllis was very adept tying people up with kitchen towels.  As she was about done, we heard footsteps coming down the stairs.  Someone had been upstairs.  I left the living room and saw a young woman stumbling down the stairs.  She took one look at me and was terrified.  Phyllis came out, saw the woman and said, “Police.  Who are you?”

“Oh thank God,” she told us.  “They’ve kept me here for days.” 

Phyllis took out her phone.  “Time to call the cops.” 

“Who’s that?” the woman asked, pointing at me. 

Before I could think of anything, Phyllis replied “Special Forces.” 

She was good at this.

In a minute, while we were still comforting the girl, the police arrived.  As we were explaining, news vans pulled up and reporters piled out.  Being identified was supposed to be weeks away—but I was trapped, surrounded by reporters and their cameras.  I could not reveal myself, so I stayed as I was.  The two guards stayed out of the picture, shook their heads.  One was on his phone. 

“What are you?” one asked.

“Special Forces,” I growled.  “I wore my suit to go out for Halloween.  Discovered the robbery by accident.  I had to help,” I said to the cameras in my deep voice.  “They were armed, there was a hostage, we couldn’t wait.” 

“This is a suit?”

“Yes.”

“Can you howl?” one reporter asked. 

I leaned back and let loose an eerie powerful howl which echoed through the neighbourhood. 

From their reactions, it was great TV. 

I got away without saying more, telling them I couldn’t answer more questions.  Phyllis and I dove into a car the guards had called up.  We held hands in the back seat.  As we were driven home, I transformed.  The man driving passed me a robe he had thoughtfully brought.  Then we walked back into the house, holding hands.  As soon as we closed the front door we were pulling ourselves together as soon as we closed the front door. 

What we had done together was terrific.  We felt…stimulated.    I wanted it.  She wanted it.  She asked and I stayed transformed as we stumbled into the bedroom. 

If she preferred me transformed, if she liked me better that way. 

Why not?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Why Not?


It was all over the news the next morning: Super Soldier captures criminals, rescues woman!  I saw myself on the news, complete with both interview and howling.  I had not remembered, but I left waving at the camera. 

At least no one knew who the Super Soldier was.  Yet.  My neighbours knew.  They had seen me leave the house on Halloween night.  Soon enough reporters would knock on my door. 

If people liked me, was that really a problem?  I could get used to it—as a quite new experience.  I kissed Phyllis good-bye and left for work.  We went out together to our separate cars.  No reporters yet.  As I got into my car, Pinetree phoned.  She told me to meet her when I came into work.  Expected. 

Unexpected was, before I started the engine, my phone ringing again.  It was Melanie.  “That was you, dad, wasn’t it?” 

I hesitated.  “Uh, well—”

“You were amazing.  I have friends I want you to meet.  Artists.  You’re a hero!”

“Artists?” 

“Performance art.  This afternoon okay?”  She gave me an address and time and told me she loved me.    

Whoa.  Life was opening up.  Transforming creating possibilities I never anticipated.  Did she see what I was doing as performance art?  Well, in a way, wasn’t it? 

When I arrived at The Social Media Academy, I went to see Pinetree.  I expected anger.  After all, I had disobeying orders or at least not obtained clearance. 

She was happier than I’d seen her in ages.  “Mike, you shouldn’t have done that,” she told me when I sat in front of her desk.  “But it’s good.  They liked it.  They liked you being a hero, it’s what they want.  

“It cools some of the heat.”  She sighed.  “How are you?  Reporters?” 

“Not yet.  I’ll stick with the man in a suit as long as it lasts.” 

“You’re okay with Phyllis?” 

“Yeah.  She was there, you know.” 

Pinetree nodded.  “I got an update from her while you were driving in.” 

Well, that was expected.  “So where do we go from here?”

“The work should continue.  Everyone’s.” 

“I think all of us are continuing on the theory.”

“Actually, Armstrong insists on trying his new serum this morning.  Despite tests being on hold.” 

“Another one?”  And “Armstrong?  He’s full of self-confidence.” 

“That’s why he’s insisting.”

“It’s a mistake.”

“Why?”

“Self-confidence is the wrong emotion.”

“I’m not going to stop him.  He insists.  He’ll do it whether I consent or not.  So I’d rather be there.  Maybe this time, it will work.” 

“I doubt it,” I told her.  “All the serums are emphasizing the wrong traits in the wrong ways.  I was lucky.  I hit the right combination.  Anger and what it means to me.  Armstrong will fail.  He’d know it if he wasn’t the poster child for self-confidence.”

Muttering she hoped I was wrong but knew I was right, Pinetree led me to the lab used for the tests.  Armstrong and his assistant waited, with several guards.  He was tall, well groomed, with very good teeth.  He had a wonderful smile.  His assistant was a nerd. 

“I have the perfect serum,” Armstrong told Pinetree. 

“You should wait,” she replied.  “Remember the funerals.” 

“Went to them,” he told her.  “Attended each one.  Truly tragic.  But they did not know what they were doing.  I do.” 

“You sound like Mark,” I told him. 

His ego was immense.  I’ve done the work.”  Armstrong held up a syringe with yellow liquid.  He was dead certain. 

Pinetree nodded and sat in an available chair.  I stood, uncomfortable.  We watched Armstrong strapped into the chair in the cage, his assistant shoot him up with the yellow serum.  Then he was alone in the cage. 

I waited unhappily.  Armstrong smiled confidently.  His smile broadened.  Then broadened more, along with his face.  Then his whole body broadened.  The straps on his arms and legs broke. 

“I’ve done it!” he cried as he shakily stood. But his legs dissolved as he continued to stretch until he became a large sheet, turning into a huge poster, with a photograph of him smiling and a quote: “I know what I’m doing!  Do you?” 

Then Armstrong the poster, fully developed, froze.  And fell over.    

Pinetree stood.  “The antidote,” she told the assistant. 

“He hasn’t developed it yet,” the nerd replied.  “He was confident this would work.” 

Pinetree looked at everyone in the room.  “No more tests until I give further word.  Put up Armstrong on a wall, to remind everyone about over confidence.  No.  That would not be respectful.  Frame him first.” 

As we left, Pinetree was mumbling again.  “Can’t have more of this.  Just can’t.  Everyone but you’s been a disaster.  The project isn’t practical.” 

“It isn’t.  They should cancel it.” 

She shook her head.  “Not enough failures yet.  Too much invested.”  She went into her office and closed the door.    

I found Madeline in her lab and told her.  Maybe she’d already heard, but instead of asking about him, she said, “I saw the TV reports.  Mel told me to watch.  How does it feel, being a hero?” she asked, looking at me hopefully.  “Is it helping?  You better?” 

I did not know what to tell her.  “Gotta admit, it feels good.  I like the positive attention for a change.”  She nodded.  “As for Mel, she thinks I’m a hero.  I’m going to see her and some of her friends this afternoon.” 

She smiled, a little.  Wanting to smile.  “So.  It’s working.  Somehow.  You haven’t been angry in weeks.” 

“Anger’s there but there’s less of it.  Or it’s being diverted.  Or its satisfied when I’m transformed.  It’s all blurry.” 

“But so far, it’s positive.”

“Yah.  Not what I thought.  Never confronting it directly.  That isn’t possible.  But something’s clicking.  The future, for the first time, feels good.  It’s your work.” 

She nodded.  It felt good she felt relieved. 

I returned to my lab and turned on the TV and for a while watched the news reports.  I felt proud.  Proud at being known for saving, not killing.  I worked for a while, concentrating on antidotes that might save my colleagues, at least the ones who could be saved.  Then I went to the address Melanie provided, the fourth floor of a warehouse downtown, converted into an artists’ cooperative. 

Getting out of the elevator, I walked into a room with maybe fifteen people, a diverse group.  They stood as I entered.  I paused.  There were a few cheers and scattered applause.  I stopped. 

Melanie came up.  “You’re a hero, dad.”  For the first time, she spoke with pride.  This was all going to my head.  I felt a little dizzy. 

I looked at the group.  “Hello, everyone.  I’m Mel’s dad.  It won’t be a secret long that I wore the Super Soldier suit.” 

“It isn’t really a suit, is it?” one person asked.  “Can you do it?”   

“We want to see,” another said.  “Only if you want to, of course.”

Well, she’d told me they were all performance artists.  I’d been on TV.  No one thought it was a suit.  They wanted to see. 

The rush was overwhelming. 

“Dad, can you show them?” 

What else could I say?  If I’d injected a serum into me then, I would have turned into a large ham.  “Do you have any music?”  

I told her to play Gimme Shelter when I called out.  Then I went into the bathroom, to be discrete, removed all my clothes and transformed.  “Start the music.”  When I heard the dramatic strains about a gathering storm, I flung the door wide open, revealing myself.  Snarling.  Claws extended.  Fur bristling.    

They gasped. 

It was exhilarating. 

I leapt into the room, spread my arms, extended my claws and howled.  Not too loud.  They were thrilled.  I began to sway to the music—dancing in in my own way.  I leapt and clawed out a light.  I jumped in the middle of them and they quickly spread out, mouths open. 

I trailed a claw across one woman’s cheek, sharp enough for her to feel without scratching.  Trailed it across a man’s forehead the same way.  Looked a person in the face and opened my jaws wide and howled, throwing my anger breath.   

I clawed a poster to pieces (I hoped it was disposable.)  Picked up a serving table and with a menacing growl bent the metal stand, then snapped it apart.  I leapt up and grabbed one of the ventilation pipes, hanging over them, snarling, fangs dripping onto them. 

They applauded.   I howled.  They applauded more. 

I could love this. 

I did love this. 

Then I dropped back down and we all had a lovely wine and cheese. 

I sat with them all around me, growling answers to their questions.  I told them it was a serum I’d taken to deal with my anger.  I avoided revealing any secrets.  It was great for me and my work to be seen so positively, even though they were not truly seeing me or my work at all. 

I went home feeling pretty good.  My daughter was proud of me.  I even told the two guards following me.  They said it was cool but revealing myself that way was messed up. 

There were news vans in front of my house.  I parked in my driveway, got out and reporters surrounded me, asking if I was the Super Soldier.  “Sorry, no comment” was all I gave them as I pushed through them, got into the house and locked the door behind me. 

Phyllis stood in the hallway. 

“We created quite a stir, big boy” she said.    

“Cat’s outta the bag.”  I added, “Pinetree’s okay with it.” 

“She thinks it’ll give her leverage.” She walked up close.  “What’s it like, being a hero?” 

“You make me feel like a star.”  And I kissed her.  

I fell asleep feeling good about myself. 

Chapter Thirty

Trade Offs

It had been a long time since I had felt good about myself. 

Honestly, I had never felt good about myself. 

Now my daughter was proud of me. 

Phyllis and I were now a couple and a team (same as it was with Madeline—coincidence?)  Speaking of Madeline, she was now talking to me.  And no one else had reached my level of research achievement.  Even Pinetree let me get away with stuff.  I had every reason for needing it to continue.  It was energizing–feeling good, feeling good about myself, being liked.  What could I do to continue it? 

Maybe I could go on rides with police and catch more criminals.  Maybe I could be parachuted into a country to help a revolution.  Maybe I could be the poster child for strength and power.  Maybe I could turn myself into performance art and make videos. 

It was crazy thinking, of course.  For the time being, I had to attend work and avoid the public.  Carry on.  But the future appeared limitless.  I was up for almost anything.  Anything.  I know what you are thinking—but is there something wrong with that?  Isn’t it what everyone wants?  Feeling good about yourself and being liked? 

Probably it was even part of my cure. 

I was at work almost every day, it dominated my life, so I decided to start there.  My colleagues were my family, sort of.  Their no longer avoiding me was a start–how could I encourage them to not merely avoid me, but actually like me?  Should I talk with them?  Chat them up?  Show them I was interested in them?  Buy them gifts?  Be a not-Secret Santa? 

Yes–my interpersonal skills were poor. 

I went home, made my way through the throng of reporters and, inside, asked Phyllis what I should do. 

“Nothing,” she replied without hesitation.  “First, see what’s been uncorked.”

“Uncorked?”

“You’re kind of acceptable as a suit.  If people learn you’re real, it might go sideways.  You might be seen not as a hero but as a monster.” 

That was deflating.  “Fair enough.  Any news on your end?”  

“All the research is on hold, pending psychological profiles for new test subjects.  I’m told the powers that be are happy with your positive exposure, but they want you to stay out of the spotlight.” 

To de-escalate, we ate dinner, played double solitaire and chatted.  It was comforting.  Until the knock on the front door.  I opened it to reveal two of our neighbours, an elderly couple.  I let them in, closing the door on the reporters. 

“Sorry to intrude,” the man said. 

“We couldn’t find your phone number,” his wife added. 

“We just have cells,” I replied.

She nodded.  “We have a problem.” 

“Two problems,” he told us.  “First, the mob outside.  We hope this won’t last,” the man said. 

“Couldn’t agree more,” I told them.  “I hate it.”

“We hate it,” he said.

“They’re trying to cool things out at work.  It shouldn’t last long.  It’s just a moment in the spotlight.” 

Phyllis smiled, listening.  I think her work taught her not to talk much. 

“Uh, second,” the wife then said. “We don’t mean to pry, but it is it a suit?”

“We’re your neighbours,” he added.  “We are entitled to know what’s living next door.” 

“Yep, it’s a suit,” I told them. “This special suit we developed.  Just me.  Really.” 

They weren’t satisfied.  They did not move farther than the hallway, looking at me suspiciously.  I offered them tea and cookies but they wanted to leave.  Phyllis took them out the back way to avoid the reporters.  When she returned, she muttered, “Beware villagers.  They have torches waiting in their garages.” 

“I want them to like me.”

“Oh?  The less they know, the better.” 

“Do you like me?”

“You’re lucky.  I hardly know you at all.” 

Although I didn’t want to, I helped clean up after dinner.  She wanted that.  Then we straightened up around the house.  Transactions. 

Yes, on some level I remained distant. 

To be liked, I had to connect with people.    

The next day first thing Pinetree called me into her office.  The thick man, and a couple of others I had not seen before, was with her.  We all shook hands, then sat around the small table.  On the table was a pitcher of water and five glasses.  No dainties. 

I already knew how to play myself at such meetings, unless I became angry.  Now I also tried using what I’d learned and thought of.  This was going to be give and take, if it worked.  Everyone would benefit.  Transactional.  Today was critical.  My work might not continue it this talk failed. 

He began by complimenting me on my work and asking if I could make myself look more friendly.  Instead of a monster wolf, could I look more like a German shepherd?  I told him I understood and was working on it. 

I also told him I was working on an antidote for the three men who had transformed but might still be saved.  Encouraging him was important.  The research had to continue, at least until I was able to find a way to shut it down.  That was a ways off.  I was looking into a serum to see if I could appear more pleasant, even though I doubted it would ever work.  Why tell them anger, the best emotion to use, would never look sweet?

It was unusual being liked.  I had always been respected but never liked.  But the days of working alone or only with an assistant were long gone.  Now I was in the middle of it.  Whatever it was. 

I asked a question for which I already knew the answer.  “Do you want me to do more interviews?  I couldn’t avoid one that night.  The cameras were on top of me.” 

He shook his head.  “The word on who you are will quickly spread.  You’ve already been identified.  The cover story about a suit won’t last.  We have to be ready when it blows, ready with something positive.”  He leaned forward.  “We’re not looking for ugly.  We’re not looking for violence.  The public needs reassurance.  These are tough times, yes?  Reassurance is what we have in mind.  This project is about reassuring the public.  That’s why we funded it.” 

Being transactional can be frustrating. 

I felt anger tingle.  “Then why was I sent to death row to kill those men?  That would have to become public.” 

He looked at me.  “It was a dangerous situation.  You were the best fit.  Yes, we wanted to see what you could do.  But no, we never told you to kill anyone.  Did we?” 

He had a point.  I killed them when I could have only taken them out.  I assumed they wanted me to kill the inmates.  That I had to, that they deserved me being their executioner. 

Maybe they wanted to see what choice I made. 

Did they like my choice? 

He smiled.  “I don’t mean to alarm you, doctor.  We think you acted appropriately.”  Flattery was always good.  “And I should add that you have been very cooperative in very difficult situations.  Your attitude is appreciated, believe me…uh…Mike.  We trust you.  Please trust us.” 

He shook my hand again, then asked me to leave. 

I left them with Pinetree.  I believed Pinetree would be supportive.  I felt she liked me.  I had given her what she wanted and only screwed up once, maybe twice.  She did not appear to like the thick man much and resented being ordered to ignore safety precautions.  I hoped I had played her enough so she would play them about playing all of us. 

Of course, people often pretend to like you.  Politeness makes working with others possible.  Often, you have to look at someone’s eyes when they are unguarded, watch their behaviour over time, before you sometimes even begin to have an idea what they think of you.  We do a lot to be liked, at least liked by people it is important for us to be liked by.  We alter what we do, feel.  Often we pretend to be someone else because someone else is often more liked. 

I learned that early on.

In school I realized the impact of personality.  I wanted to be the someone who was popular—but although I tried, I did not care enough to change.  At least, not consistently. 

Or was unable to change. 

Same through college and graduate school, where arguably I was the least popular student.  It all led to my specialization, which I saw as a road to curing my anger.  To achieve at work, I had to not only be talented.  People had to be willing to work with me.  My solution?  Find work where I was isolated yet could work on my goal.  I managed that.  I had only one assistant—and they kept changing—and was not required to talk to colleagues. 

But I still had people around me and managed to alienate almost all of them.  They would eventually sign a letter to Pinetree demanding I be fired.  Previously, I did not mind eating alone in the cafeteria but now I ate with other staff and it felt good. 

It had taken a great deal for them to at least pretend they liked me.  My own actions played only a part. 

Previously, I’d left a jar of candy in my office, as an encouragement to visitors.  No one ate any.  And it was hard to chat up people I cared nothing about. 

I still did not care about them but in the last weeks, staff began dropping by.  It was a pleasure, regularly refilling the candy bowl.  Being transactional and everyone being united by stress led to me being liked more and I could see the results.  And when I went home, I did things Phyllis wanted. 

If all this sounds transactional, cold and distant, I agree it was.  It was part of my ongoing problem.  Life should go beyond giving to get. 

We played double solitaire after dinner.  As we sat together, flipping cards, she said, “I’ve received an alert.  May have to go off again.” 

“Anything to do with my meeting today?” 

“Feels like it.” 

“He made their role on death row sound innocent.  That it was my choice.  I guess it was.” 

She flipped a card.  “The two guards had a choice.  Probably not the third.”  She finished going through the deck for the first time, turned it over and continued.  We played through several games, winning about half the time.  That felt right. 

Then she kissed me and we cuddled.  I enjoyed being liked.  But it took a while to fall asleep, lying next to her as she gently snored.    

Life should go beyond giving to get. 

I had to figure out what that meant and how to do it.

Caring about people was very important but I was not sure how to do that.

My Inner Werewolf Chapters 6-15

Chapter Six

On Trial

I shaved using the bedroom mirror.  It was important this morning to see myself whole.

My face looked fine and while my hand ached there were no marks anyone would notice.  I chose a new suit, never worn.  New white shirt, new black socks, new underwear.  Even a new tie.  I was going on trial.  The serum was being tried and, in a real sense, so was I. 

A quick cup of strong coffee in the kitchen to rev me up, plus a travel mug for the car, and off I went.  I drifted through driving.  There were a lot of red lights, giving me plenty of time to think.  Except I didn’t want to think.  The time to think had passed–if it hadn’t, I might have thought about that.  I wanted to act. 

I was the first to arrive.  Chimps in cages on the other side of the lab quietly watched me.  I had my own cage, a waiting human-sized cage, empty chair inside.  The cage was specially built, solid, with straps to hold my arms, legs and chest.  Built for me.  There were video cameras on tripods and three mirrors faced me, outside the cage, so I could see myself. 

I looked at myself in the mirror.  I looked pretty good, in the suit.  Better dressed than the chimps.  I was too impatient to sit, so I stood, finishing the travel mug.  I sat in the chair in the cage, finishing the coffee, looking at the chimps while they looked at me, curious.  They knew I was not acting normally. 

Pinetree entered the lab, followed by her assistant and three security officers.  They smiled and said hello.  Madeline was last, completing the team.  She looked at the floor, silent. 

We all stood around, uncertain.  Pinetree asked “Any words before you’re shot?”  

“For months I’ve looked forward to this,” I replied.  “Let’s do it.” 

I stood, took off the jacket, rolled up my right sleeve, and sat back down.  Madeline watched as the security officers tightly strapped my arms, legs and chest.  I thought she wiped away a tear.  Pinetree sat in a chair her assistant provided, calmly watching. 

“Comfortable?” one guard asked, tightening the strap on my right arm.  It hurt.  He did not like me much, with good reason.  Ditto the other guard, actually.  Their lips were tighter than the straps.  Madeline approached, holding a syringe filled with the green serum.  I barely felt the jab.  Then she backed out of the cage, eyes on the floor, capping the used syringe.  The security officers followed, closing the cage door, locking it. 

Then all five humans watched me.  

The chimps also watched the new chimp, curious. 

I felt no different for maybe ten seconds.  The serum worked with incredible speed.  My face felt warm.  Tingling covered my skin, as if ants crawled and bit over every inch of me.  It went from warm to very hot.  I began to sweat, gasping.  Panting.  Something inside me, a force inside the centre of my chest, grew.  My arms and legs swelled.  Something was happening to my face.  I tried to say something. 

I growled. 

I saw them watching.  More, I now smelled them.  They had scents.

My body surged with power.  I heard my suit rip apart at the seams.  So did the shirt, even the underwear.  All my clothing was shredding.  I saw the thick leather straps break with a loud pop.  I looked down.  My shoes had split open.  My feet were long and thick and hairy, with sharp claws on long toes.  The feet of an animal.  An animal that could run and attack.   

I looked at myself in the mirrors. 

A werewolf glared back. 

That is the only way I can describe what my anger looked like: worse than any movie werewolf, more powerful, bigger, drool dripping over sharp fangs.  I was over seven feet tall.  I was hairy all over.  My fingers were claws.  My elongated feet also had deadly claws.  My eyes looked…evil. 

My anger was a monster. 

I was a monster.

The guards stepped back, raising their tranquilizer guns.  Madeline was frightened.  Pinetree did not budge an inch.  Her assistant’s mouth gaped open. 

I had to say something, to demonstrate I was not a werewolf, a dangerous vicious animal.  My vocal chords were different, my voice had become a growl. “I’m me.”

I hoped that would be reassuring. 

I looked at the bars.  My anger wanted to be free.  I felt power surging through my thick muscled arms and legs.   The claws on my feet scratched the hard floor.  “Who are they to cage me?” a force inside complained.  I curled my long strong fingers around the bars.  It would be so easy to bend them.  I had to be let out. 

I bent my furry head back and howled.  Claws extended.  Lips pulled back to reveal my fangs.  Howling loud and long, enjoying the deep vibrations throughout my body.  They all jumped back a few feet. 

“No problem,” I growled.  “I needed to howl.” 

Madeline asked tentatively, “Mike?” 

Pinetree was standing.  “Why did you need to howl?”   

I spoke to Madeline.  “I not only see me in the mirror, I am me.  My anger.  It’s amazing.  I smell everything.  See everything.  Strength throbs through all of me.  But don’t worry, I’m in control.  I see now my anger for what it is.  The cure will work.” 

Pinetree stepped closer to me.  “What are you capable of?” 

“Right now?” I growled.  “Anything.”

“Let’s see you change back.”   

Fair enough. 

I closed my new wide eyes and concentrated.  Something inside responded.  It responded reluctantly but I forced it to withdraw.  I slowly shrank.  When I looked at the mirrors I saw myself.  Standing before them naked, my clothing shredded. 

They gave me a lab coat. 

At Pinetree’s demand—it sounded like a request–I changed to my anger side, then back again.  Then again and again, until she was satisfied.  I sat in a folding chair they brought.  They sat in chairs around me.  I wished the lab coat had buttons.

“What’s next?” I asked. 

“Obviously, we need a test,” Pinetree told me.  “To see what you’re capable of.” 

“Me?”

“Who else?”

We bundled into a van—well, I was in one, with two security guards, they were in the other–and drove to a military base outside the city.  I wore a one-piece jump suit.  I had a pretty good idea what Pinetree wanted. 

It was a nice day.  The base was surrounded by razor wire.  We unloaded and I was led to a four-storey building, a shell.  “I’ve been here,” I told Pinetree.  “For my own projects.”

“I know.  We adapt it as needed.  Today it’s an apartment block.  One apartment contains terrorists and their hostages.  Your goal is to incapacitate the terrorists and rescue the hostages.” 

“Are the terrorists wearing body armor?” 

She nodded. 

“How rough can I be?  What are my guidelines?” 

“Subdue them.” 

“Just subdue?” 

“Yes.  Let’s see what you do and how quickly you do it.” 

It was no longer therapy.  I was a weapon.

That did not mean it was not part of my cure. 

“Mike?”  It was Madeline.  “You don’t have to do this.” 

“I want to.”

“We need more time.” 

“No.  This was what I need.  A test.  Control the anger.” 

We stood looking at each other.  Pinetree looked at her watch. 

Time to act, not think.  I did not have to concentrate.  All my anger needed was an open door.  I let it emerge, felt myself surge.  I looked at my claws.  My long feet with their claws.  My sharp fangs.  Why have them if not to use them?  I resisted the impulse and got to work. 

Without moving, using my sense of smell, I separated out scents and found recent ones, from about an hour ago.  Five people.  Wearing shoes, I saw their faint tracks on the ground.  They walked into the building.  Three pairs of army boots, one pair of man’s shoes, one pair high heels. 

I smelled concern.  Tension. 

Good.  Tension gave me a thrill. 

I loped into the building.  Nothing recent I smelled on this floor—except the five people who walked in through the front doors and entered the elevator.  My fur bristled.  It was a hunt, and it would be easy.  I raced up the stairs, enjoying how my muscles moved.  Nothing on the second floor.  No one had left the elevator recently.  Or the third. 

Of course, the top floor. 

Invigorated, heart pounding, I loped up the last stairs.  I felt…alive!  Maybe part of the cure was not just letting my anger out, not just seeing it, but using it.   

On the fourth floor, I paused, took in the scents.  People were here.  They had come out of the elevator and gone down the hall.  They were in an apartment on the end.  The scent was obvious as were the traces of their footprints. 

I ran silently down the corridor, stopping at the apartment next to the end one.  I smelled nothing inside.  My clawed hand grasped the doorknob.  It turned. 

Entering, I slipped through the empty apartment to the balcony, then leapt easily to the other apartment’s.  I smelled them inside.  The curtains were drawn over the windows, but where a normal person would see nothing, I saw enough.  Two people tied to chairs.  Three armed men standing by them, looking at the front door.  The men held automatic weapons.  Below, I saw Pinetree and Madeline and the others watching. 

It was very quiet.  They were waiting down below.  Inside the apartment, the pretend hostages and terrorists were waiting.    

I forced myself to remember to hold my power in check.  Only subdue.  Energy surged through my powerful body.  Inside, they had no idea what was coming. 

Howling ferociously, I leapt through the window, shattering glass everywhere.  The broken glass did not bother me at all. 

I was behind the ‘terrorists.’  They looked at me, paralyzed with fear.  I imagined them with long claw scratches on their faces, leaving blood.  Before they could react, I grabbed one, sank my claws into his body armor and threw him against the other two.  They all tumbled to the ground, stunned.

That was not enough. 

My goal was to subdue them. 

I curled my claws into fists and punched them repeatedly, until their faces were covered with blood and they were…subdued.    Blood all over my claws as I stood over them, growling.  Wanting to do more—but I was in control.    

Subdue. 

The ‘terrorists’ were unconscious.  The ‘hostages’ were rescued.   The test was a success.  I transformed and stood in front of the ‘hostages,’ naked.  The trial was over and the verdict in.  “Should I untie you?” I asked.

They screamed into their gags. 

It was not acting.

Chapter Seven

Aftermath: All Is Normal?

“I want to live a normal life.” 

We sat in Pinetree’s office, this time at the table.  Sipping tea.  On a plate decorated with flowers were cookies, fresh from the mall bakery.

“I was successful with the terrorists.  They were subdued.  And I’ve demonstrated I control the transformations,” I continued. 

“Hmmm,” Pinetree replied. 

“I’ve lived here a week, under tight security.  I want to go home.”

“And be normal?”

“Something like that.” 

“Your situation is no longer normal.”  She sipped some tea.  “The public can’t know about you.  Not yet.” 

“I don’t want them to know.  When are you going to use the serum on other human trials?  I assume that’s where you’re heading.”

She sipped some more tea.  “Perhaps Madeline should be with you.” 

I shook my head.  “I’m looking for normal.  General, please.  I need the balance.  I need to see how well the cure works.  I haven’t gotten angry for a week, that’s something.  But I need to see what I’m like out there.” 

She finished the tea, then poured more from the small pot on the table.  Decorated with flowers, the pot matched the plate.  “Mike, I want you happy.  I want you to explore the therapy side.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Return to normal.  Live at home.  See your friends.  But understand you are top secret.  Security guards will follow you everywhere.  I don’t want anyone to see you until we’re ready.  And we may never be ready.  PR already has serious concerns about your image.” 

“It’s what my anger is.  I understand.”  I felt owned.  “I can work on that.  Maybe I can now transform into something else.”  What choice did I have at this point?  I had not yet reached the tipping point–but I was on the knife’s sharp edge.  “You won’t regret it.  What’s next?”

“We’re waiting for some real terrorists to pop up.” 

I ate a cookie. 

Unsure of the future except I was on the right track, and it was a track with tall walls on either side.  I could only now move forward. 

I returned to my lab and began packing a few things.  Madeline saw me and walked in. 

“Going home?  That a good idea?” 

She was always negative, especially now that she saw me succeeding.  It was part of why I was better living alone.  “I don’t need a disaster scenario,” I snapped.   

“Mike—” 

“Sorry.  Sorry.  Really.  Don’t worry,” I stumbled.  “Pinetree’s watching me.  I feel better than I have in years.” 

“They’ll turn you into a weapon.  This isn’t therapy.” 

I smiled as best I could and left before I was ready.  She let me go.  Although usually it was me storming out.  I felt strangely calm.  Anger nowhere in sight—I had confidence this road would take me to a cure.  The cure had already started.  I had been surrounded by people for a week.  All watching me.  I was frustrated at times, pictured clawing them at times, but all that was inside.  For once, on the outside, I was consistently pleasant. 

The ride home, alone, was enjoyable, even keeping an eye on the dark car following, keeping an eye on me.  I pulled into my driveway, locked the car, went into my house, turned the lights on and put my briefcase on the kitchen table.  Through the window I saw the car parking by my driveway, the two men inside watching the house. 

I had a plan and now finally I was home and alone.  I knew what I needed—to acknowledge my anger was desperate to do its thing.  Burying it all week became increasingly difficult.  I needed to go beyond subduing.  The anger inside me hated subduing. 

I turned on the living room light, then turned off the kitchen light and waited a few minutes.  They were the longest minutes I’d ever lived.  Then, without them seeing, I slipped out of the kitchen and into the garage, through its side door.  Inside was dark, no windows, just a large, closed door for a car, the side door and a back door. 

Finally, I was truly alone.  Finally, I emerged and stood growling, covered with bristling fur, fangs dripping, claws sharp and extended.  Finally, I could use this body as it wanted to be used.    

The garage contained boxes filled with high school papers, old photos, souvenirs I never looked at but could not bear to throw away. We all have prized possessions we ignore. I stood over them, needing to tear something apart, and here it was.

I ripped open the boxes, and then slashed apart everything inside, old papers to teddy bears to memorable tee-shirts.  Slashed them all, into jagged slashed pieces.  Using my claws for real felt so good!  I’d only used them on actors in body armor.  It was good to slash their clothing but nothing like the exhilaration of destroying. 

After the boxes, I looked for more.  I grabbed the lawnmower, solid metal, and pulled it apart.  I broke the rake and shovel and hoes in half, then snapped the wood again just for the joy of it. 

I found my shredded clothing and shredded it more, bit off half of one shoe and spit it out.  Only when there was nothing left to destroy did I stop. 

I dragged a claw along the wall, ripping off a calendar, leaving a jagged scar.  Then I reluctantly transitioned back.  Naked and sweating, I slipped out of the garage and back into my kitchen, then into the living room, where I poured a drink, then sat on the couch holding it. 

I didn’t want to destroy anything in my house.  I lived there.  Though the throw pillows were inviting.  They come would pieces so easily. 

I could call Gloria.  I saw her once a week.  We got along well.  Well, I paid her.  About a year after Madeline left, lonely, horny yes, I phoned an escort service.  Gloria showed up, and I’ve been a steady of hers ever since.  I wanted to be with her while transformed.  I doubted she would go for that.  Gloria was tolerant but I would have to work hard to figure out how to get her acceptance first, so she was not terrorized, like the ‘hostages.’ 

I could call Madeline but that would hardly be a relief.  I knew what she would say, especially if she saw the garage.  Calling my daughter?  I could text, she doesn’t talk to me.  I’m sure she would be shocked at what I was doing to myself, which was normal. 

I was back to normal, home alone–except someone was watching outside. 

At least, the cure was working.  I controlled my anger.  I had not gotten mad at anyone all week.  It wasn’t easy, at times I saw myself ripping throats out.  But, for the first time, I kept that awful anger inside and wore a smile outside. 

Colleagues loved it.  I felt them grow warmer—but still wary.  Word was out about my alter appearance.    

Sitting on the couch, I realized I was still angry, even after ripping apart the garage.  When I thought about it, I was angry because I was, again, being used.  All my life people used me, giving little in return.  They interfered with me getting what I wanted.  My work was now being perverted for someone else’s purposes.  I went to sleep thinking about it, the drink untouched.

The next morning my first thought on waking, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, was: am I not living my normal life?  What was my normal?  Working on secret military projects and under personal surveillance–my work was not normal.  I developed biological weapons and defences against them–most everyone has a job which is meaningless, mine is full of meaning, all of it disturbing.  Most people work because it pays them–I work because it channels my anger and meets my personal needs, which include once I am cured not doing such work.  It is normal to dislike your work—I hate my work, for the past three years have ensured my projects failed if they could become weapons. 

My social life was not normal.  I had no friends.  I can acquire them–until I flare up.  I can be charming.  I’m not always a monster.  But I learned early the problem for people was not so much my flare ups, but people anticipating them.  Sooner or later I would explode, probably sooner, and soon enough they were gone. 

I’m an only child, which is not unusual–but neither parent wanted me.  Neither spent time with me once I was old enough for daycare.  I don’t remember them playing with me, although I expect the must have. 

Most people have at least one or two friends from childhood whom they still stay connected with.  I have one, Freddie.  We grew up together, went to movies together, played stick ball in the street.  Over time we separated, then got together again as adults.  We did not like each other.  But I was the only one alive who remembered his mom and dad, same for him, so we have polite diners once a month. 

I’m not sure why I named the animal test subjects after him. 

To recapture my childhood, the parts I enjoyed, I would revisit my old neighbourhood.  It stopped existing four years ago: redevelopment, gentrification, all those little homes replaced by steely towers.  I stopped going back the day I drove on my former street and saw only apartment blocks.  An undeveloped block nearby, covered with weeds, was the prettiest thing in the neighbourhood.  Losing your homeland is everyone’s new normal, but that is precious little comfort. 

I’m not asking for sympathy, much less pity–just for normal.  I knew my normal was not normally your normal.  Normal gnawed at me nastily for years. 

Meanwhile, I woke up into my first full day of my new normal. 

I felt cleaner after a shower, not better.  I felt on edge, with good reason.  Normally, I knew what to expect from the day.  Now, normal was anticipating the unknown.  People around me anticipated me flaring up into not merely an angry man, but a frightening monster.  It was walking on eggshells time. 

I made instant coffee.  That was steadying.  Then more for my travel mug, as usual.  Also steadying.  My clothing was fresh, I was ready.  I walked outside.  In front of my house two men sat in a car, watching.  I waved to them as I walked to my car and got in.  They waved back and followed me right into the underground garage.  One of them got in the elevator with me and rode it up, walking behind me until I entered the Academy

My lab was ready.  My assistant was not there, but I understood my transformation scared her.  I’d rather be alone, at least until I needed work done.  I went through my email—nothing.  The day was open to do whatever I wanted.  I had no idea what to do with it.  I wanted to transform and keep testing myself.  Each time enabled me to control my anger more.  But I wasn’t sure it was the best idea to transform in the lab, without sanction.

My normal now was that not only was my work top secret, so was I.     

I thought of Madeline but kept my distance.  It was easier that way–for her. 

So I spent the morning finishing three reviews of colleagues’ research projects.  Then I went to eat in the cafeteria.  No one sat with me, as normal.  The food was normal.  Their constantly sneaking looks at me was unusual—normally, they ignored me.  In the afternoon, I completed two more reviews, then reviewed my own work.  There was no word from Pinetree.  No new assignment.  No word on my future. 

I took the elevator down to the parking garage, a security woman with me.  The same car with two different officers followed me out of the garage and home, parking outside.  I got out of my car, went into the garage.  I let my anger burst out, feeling powerful and fulfilled.  I transformed into a version of…my true self, but one which needed considerable psychiatric work. 

There was nothing left to destroy in the garage. 

But there was, beyond my back yard, a forest. 

I slipped out of the kitchen and leapt over the fence without being seen.  Then I was hidden in the forest, which accepted me. 

It was lush, full of fascinating scents.  I drew them in.  I had not known there were coyotes in the neighbourhood.  I seemed to sense they were coyotes, although I had no idea what coyotes smelled like. 

I got on all fours.  It was comfortable.  I enjoyed using all my muscles.  What would it be like to have a tail?  Then I ran.  Ran for the first time on my powerful arms and legs.  Whipping past branches and bushes and trees.  Running was exhilarating. 

I froze.  I smelled people nearby.  I crouched, them scampered low through the foliage until I saw them beyond the trees, in a clearing.  Three people having a picnic.  How nice.  I growled and wanted to rip their little scene to bits.  It came from this body, the one I had to confront. 

I passed the test, letting them live. 

After a couple of hours enjoying myself, giving into my body, as it grew dark I loped back home.  My muscles felt worked out.  I felt better.  I stood for a moment at the edge of the forest, by my backyard.  Feeling better, I transformed and jumped naked over the fence into my backyard. 

The two guards were waiting.  One shook his head.  I apologized to her, said I would not do it again, then left them, naked and embarrassed, into my house.  Through the window, I saw them walk down the driveway to their car.  There would be guards in the forest.    

I turned the lights on.  That had been a mistake, the house had been dark.  Under my new normal, I would have to not yield to impulse.  If I wanted to fool anyone, I had to plan. 

And I would need to keep unshredded clothing ready.   

Chapter Eight

Unleashed

Two days later, Pinetree phoned as I reorganized files.  “There’s an emergency.”

As we faced each other in the van, she explained.   

“Mike, a bank robbery is in progress.  Right now.  Clients and staff are being held hostage.  At least five armed robbers.” 

“This is for real?” 

“For real.  For three hours.”  For the first time, Pinetree was tense.  “The robbers are desperate, threatening to kill hostages unless they get an escape route.  They’re all in the lobby.  The bank’s surrounded by police and SWAT teams, but they can’t get in.  Something special is needed.  I was contacted.” 

“So this is real.  What about top secret?” 

“It’s an emergency.  Lives are at stake.  It’s the justification we were waiting for.  As for top secret, you’ll be described as a man in a special suit.” 

If I wasn’t so tense, I would have laughed.  “What are my guidelines?” 

“Your orders?” 

She waited, so I said, “What are my orders?” 

“Survey the situation.  If possible, free the hostages.  Make it up as you go along.” 

The bank was in an older two storey building downtown.  Skyscrapers towered over it, alleys on each side.  The bank was a fortress, solid concrete with a few barred windows, except for the front, which was floor to ceiling glass. The streets were full of police.  I took off the jump suit I wore and transformed.  I had to bend down to fit in the van. 

“How many are there inside?”

“Too far away,” I growled.  “Can’t tell.  I can go in the back and get closer.” 

“Okay, see what you can do.” 

Unleashed. 

As I stepped out of the van the police stared–but they had been alerted a special agent in a weird suit was coming.  I straightened to my full height, feeling my fur bristle.  The cops’ eyes were wide enough to lope through.  I liked being seen.  Even as a suit. 

Avoiding view from the bank, I loped through an alley and approached the rear.  Police had the rear end covered.  They backed off as I approached, panting.  Their eyes were also wide.  I was happy that no warning was enough.  I needed to use fear. 

The building was old, solid brick.  The rear door was metal with a very small, barred window.  I tried the door, it was locked.  There was no way the police could get inside. 

There were two large, barred windows on each floor.  The glass had some kind of spidery metal to make it unbreakable.  It was impossible to detect scents.  Through the door window, looking carefully, I saw two men at the end of a hallway.  They held what looked like automatic rifles. 

I had some surveillance. 

The two goons walked out of sight.  For a moment, it was clear.  Suddenly, the opportunity arose to survey more.  I knew Pinetree wanted me to act.  I salivated.

I could not get any grip on the door but I could on the bars.  They were not thick and outside the windows.  I gripped them in my claws.  They were easy to bend, at least with my strength.   When I pulled them out of the concrete there was noise, but not enough to attract attention inside. 

I looked behind me, at the waiting paramedics.  “Blanket,” I growled.  They stepped back.  “I need a blanket.  Now.”  One of the paramedics snapped out of it, grabbed a blanket from the ambulance and handed it to me nervously.  I padded it against the window, to quiet the sound, and then easily pushed the window in. 

It was a squeeze through the window.  What better way to survey than from the inside?  I could unlock the back door, but now I smelled them.  I smelled prey. 

More surveillance was clearly needed.  The police could wait.  This was my mission, Pinetree was waiting.    

I loped down the hallway, hearing my claws scratch the hard floor.  At the end of the hall, I saw them.  I stayed just out of sight.  The hall opened into the lobby. 

It was a tense scene. 

A lot of people were on the floor, hands over their heads, clients and staff.  They were trembling, terrified, keeping their eyes to the floor.  Over them, weaving around them, moving nervously, were the armed thieves.  They wore black hoods and body armor.  Bags packed full of money were at their feet.  Five men, desperate to find an escape route.  Whatever they planned had clearly failed. 

I took a deep breath through my nostrils and smelled fear.  Fear from everyone, in fact.  Most of it came not from the hostages, but the failed thieves.

I could lope to the back door and open it.  One was on the phone, shouting.  “Oh yeah?  Well keep listening.  Maybe I’ll kill one now!” 

I had reason to argue the time for surveillance just passed. 

I stepped into the open, tilted my head back and howled

It was deep throated, the howl of something dangerous.  The sound came from deep inside me and carried clear anger with it.  It was the howl of a monster wolf, on the hunt. 

They were slow to raise their guns, stunned at the sight of me.  Their hostages were completely forgotten, as I’d hoped—that the sight of me in full rage would be stunning. 

Leaping at the closest, I howled again. 

I slashed with my claws, there was a splash of blood and he fell, without a face. 

I felt a bullet hit my shoulder.  To my surprise, I barely felt it.  Another bullet hit my chest.  The first bullet popped out, falling to the floor.  I grabbed an arm and ripped it off, then hit the next man with it.  The other bullet popped out.  The thieves started to shout, I don’t know what.  The bullets made me…angry. 

Howling and snarling, I ripped my way through them.  My claws slashed relentlessly until no one fought back or tried to run.  They were all dead or gurgling death rattles.  My cure was also a weapon. 

I howled again, enjoying the victory. 

The hostages looked at me terrified. 

When I transformed back to my normal self, they were even more terrified.  I pulled the bloody clothing from one of the thieves and covered my nakedness.  The corpses were put in bags and taken.  Military staff met with police and hostages who told them I was a soldier in a special suit.  They all had to sign non-disclosure agreements. 

Some had to be forced. 

I did not like that part, but it was necessary—for now.  Sooner or later, I would always be public.  But public as what? 

That afternoon, I sat across from Pinetree at the table in her office, drinking coffee while she sipped tea.  “Don’t worry about it,” she told me.  “We’ve handled this sort of thing before.” 

“You have done this before?  I’ve never heard.” 

“We’re good at it.” 

“I’m not sorry about killing them.  They shot at me.” 

“Don’t apologize.  Not necessary.  But the bullets did not stop you.  They barely entered you, then popped out and the wounds healed.” 

“You don’t mind I killed them?” 

“I’m sure you did your best not to.  We heard it all on the phone that one of the thieves was holding.  They shot at you.  You defended yourself.”  She looked at me, then decided to add, “There were hostages.  You used the weapons you had.  I think it worked out fine.” 

“Will it happen again?” 

She smiled.  “You are operational.”  She sipped more tea.  “As far as I can tell, it is part of your cure.  From what I’ve seen, and the staff tell me, the cure is working.”

I left her office unsettled.  Normal kept shifting. 

I found Madeline in her lab. 

She gave me a plastic smile.  “How are you?” 

“Pinetree’s fine.  I’m worried.” 

Her plastic smile disappeared.  “How’s the cure?”

“Charting its own course.”

“You killed seven people.” 

“They were shooting at me.  They were about to shoot hostages.” 

Her plastic smiled returned.  “This isn’t the time, eh?  You must need rest.”  

I drove home.  After pacing and looking at the news on TV—there was no footage of me—I phoned Gloria.  She was in my living room in an hour. 

Gloria was tall, in her late twenties, blonde, attractive.  “I wondered when you’d call,” she purred professionally.

I was nervous.  “Glad I did.  I’ve been, well, busy.” 

“With what?  Work?”  She curled a finger around the top button of my shirt and opened it. 

I nodded. 

“Can you talk about it?  I know you work at stuff you can’t talk about.”

“I can show you.  It’s sort of public now.  But it’s scary.” 

She raised an eyebrow as she opened another button.  “What kind of scary?” 

“It’s the project I’ve mentioned.  We finished it.” 

She took a few steps back.  “Show me.” 

“Really scary.  It’s what my anger is.  I get big and hairy.  With fangs and claws.” 

“Do I need popcorn?”  Her smile, lovely red lips, was daring. 

“This isn’t a joke.  Don’t bother with more buttons.  I like hearing the clothes rip.” 

And I let it out. 

She shrank and stepped back as I emerged.  But she was not terrified.  She stroked the fur on my arms.  “Well, look at you.”  I snarled. 

“Bedroom,” she whispered, smelling me.  “No claws.” 

She led me into my bedroom, taking off her clothing along the way.  Then I lay on top of her nude body with my big, hairy one.  She tried to wrap her arms around my back, I was too big.  I licked her ear, her throat.  Kissing was impossible with my lengthy fanged jaws.  So I licked her lips.  I felt her hands clutch me.

I licked her breasts, her stomach, all of her.  She grunted when I licked her groin, spreading her legs as my tongue entered her.  She liked my tongue, I thought. 

I suppose I have always been selfish about sex.  I’ve read and heard people should come together.  I tried it once, it was good.  But I always get lost when having sex.  It is all about me.  How it feels.  Even how she responds is all about me.  All I want to do is come.  I’ll ensure she does have an orgasm, but later.  First, me.

The sex was wild.  For me.  For her, it was controlled.  When I came, somehow it was not satisfying, not like before. Something was wrong.  And suddenly I knew what it was.

I transformed back, sinking into my less intimidating form.  I had to talk and she had to respond, and that was not possible while I looked like a monster. 

As we lay panting, sweaty, I said to the room, “You work for them.” 

I waited until she nodded.  “How long?” 

“Since you talked to people about developing a serum,” she replied.  “Word got out and Pinetree wanted better information about you.  When did you figure it out?” 

“From the start,” I lied.  My ego was involved.  I was more worried she would not think I was smart or aware than I was she had been spying on me for Pinetree. 

All this felt normal for my new normal. 

She looked at me.  “Next week, same time?” 

Chapter Nine

General Pinetree Gets A Word

Thank you, no.

Chapter Ten

Dr. Orwell

My life was a lie.  Finally, I admitted it to myself.  I supposed I had known all along.  Gloria’s spying on me was no surprise.  My phones were tapped, why not relationships?  My cage was larger than the chimps’, but still a cage.

People lied to me, I lied to myself.  My new normal had grown increasingly abnormal.  I got along better with people yet it felt fabulous killing them.  This was supposed to be therapy.  If it would become a weapon, it would be someone else.  I never wanted to be a weapon and now had created myself into one–for someone else’s needs. 

My life was certainly a worse mess than ever.  I had thought my cure would be simple.  See it, confront it, tame it.  How naïve.  Makes me angry thinking about it.  I had to make things right. 

I needed someone to talk with.  More than someone. 

I phoned my therapist. 

My former therapist, actually. 

I phoned and made an appointment for the following morning.  She made space.  She would.  She worked for The Academy.  Pinetree did not allow outside therapists.  There were too many secrets to be kept secret.    

We sat in her office, which had a couch a client could lie down on.  I chose the armchair, which faced hers.  There was a bookcase, with psychology texts.  Apart from her framed diplomas, neutral landscapes were placed on her walls. 

Dr. Orwell was in her late thirties, wore glasses, had short dark hair with a tinge of gray.  She always dressed in a neutral business suit.  On the table between us was a pot of coffee, two cups, and cookies.  Along with the blank writing pad she used for notes, and a pen.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said as we settled in.  Her voice was throaty. 

“It means I’m still screwed up,” I replied. 

She smiled.  “Have a cookie.”

It was delicious. 

She poured coffee into the cups from a jug.  “I’m aware of your use of the serum.  Pinetree ensures I’m kept informed.  She thought you might contact me.  Just so you know.” 

I appreciated the honesty.  “Thanks.” 

“You broke it off last year, if I understand it right, because you did not want to use pharmaceuticals.” 

“Therapy was useless, sorry.  The meds turned me into a zombie.  I floated through life.”  Those were the worst times, seeking real solutions.  “Pharmaceuticals were also useless.” 

“Isn’t the serum a pharmaceutical?” she asked. 

“Nothing like what you use.”  I sipped some coffee. “It’s opened the door to what’s inside me.  And as a cure, it seems to be working.  My relations with people are fine, I haven’t gotten angry ate anyone in weeks.  I’m don’t understand the process.  I don’t understand what it’s doing.” 

“You’re not angry with people but still angry?”

“Yeah.  Nice on the outside, jerk on the inside.” 

“Any ideas on where to go from here?” she asked.

“No idea.  While I hate being used with no control, in the moment I have all the control I want.   I enjoy using my claws to rip and tear.  It’s satisfying.  Becoming anger physically is satisfying.” 

“But you’re worried about becoming a weapon.” 

“Being used to kill people is not my idea of a cure.” 

“And you don’t know what to do.”  She had that right.  So far, it was all very normal.  She leaned forward.  “What if you had a say?” 

Whoa.  The way she looked at me brought everything to a dead stop.  “What are you saying?”  

Dr. Orwell had been my therapist for two years before I broke it off, to develop a serum.  She knew my background, issues that I disliked the work and Pinetree, that I wanted out.  She took a breath.  “There may be a group opposed to The Academy, to what it does and means.” 

“May be?” 

“For now, may be,” she said firmly.  “Mike, the best therapy is to stop doing work you hate.” 

“Stop?  I know how this works.  I’ll be sent out more.  The missions will get bigger.  When I’m a success, they’ll create duplicates.” 

She finished her coffee.  “Yes.  But there is a way.  If you are patient.  Pinetree is smart.  It will take a while, but I have something in mind.” 

I left wondering what Dr. Orwell had in mind, whether I could trust her, and that my new normal including my therapist being abnormal and, of course, using me for her own reasons.   

And–what group?  How could it grow weirder? 

The only thing weirder would be if my daughter talked to me.

Chapter Eleven

Melanie Talks To Me

As I left Dr. Orwell’s office, my cell phone rang.  It was my daughter.  She wanted to talk. 

I grabbed the opportunity. 

Dinner in a restaurant seemed cold, she said.  She would come over tonight.  But not for dinner, she just wanted to talk. 

I prepared a pot of coffee and put her favourite fruit juice in the fridge.  I tidied up, so she would not see how I lived.  I even vacuumed.  All the time, I wondered what Madeline had told her.  It was not difficult to guess what Melanie wanted to talk about. 

She knocked on the front door, not simply opening it and entering.  I opened it and there she stood.  Smiling.  Her mom’s plastic smile.  But she looked me in the eyes.  Melanie had grown—well, matured—in the year and a half since I’d seen her.  A year and a half is a long time, too long. 

“Hi, dad.” 

She was in her early twenties, I always forget her birthdate.  But I remember her being born and the excitement.  Melanie stood about 5’ 8”, long dark hair, pretty with nice cheekbones and wide eyes.  She wore no makeup and an overcoat. 

“It’s great to see you, honey.”  I smiled. 

We stood there. 

“How’s the performance art?” 

“Fine.  How’s the work?” 

There was a long pause.

I kept the smile on my lips and stepped back.  “Come on in.” 

She walked in, went to the living room and sat on an armchair.  I sat on the couch, near her.  Already I was uncomfortable.  She did not want to sit next to me.  But she was here. 

“Like something?” I asked her.  “Coffee?  Fruit juice?” 

She took a breath.  “You must be wondering why I’m here.  I know it’s uncomfortable for you.  Me too.  I should have called you a long time ago.  But it was hard.” 

“I could have tried more,” I offered. 

She was looking at me directly, bluntly.  “You did.  Just didn’t want to talk with you.  But.  Mom’s told me what’s going on.” 

And there you had it.  I assumed Madeline might tell our daughter.  Top secret in families only goes so far.   “I hope you’ll understand.  I needed to do something about my anger.” 

“I appreciate that.  You can trust me on that.”  She shifted uncomfortably on the couch.  “I’m sorry, talking about this with you now, it’s out of nowhere.” 

“Same here.  No problem.” 

She stopped shifting.  “You were the soldier in the special suit at the bank.  You killed five people.” 

“I was sent in there.  It was an emergency.  They were going to shoot the hostages and they did shoot at me.” 

“Yeah, I know.  Did you have to kill them?” 

“Sorry.  Kill or be killed.”  That was not the entire truth.  She did not need to know the entire truth. 

She was quiet a moment, then said, “Can I see?” 

I stood and took off my clothing and shoes.  No point in ripping them, no point in making it more dramatic than it was.  She turned her eyes away as I became naked. 

My anger emerged, my body growing and stretching, jaws and fangs and claws forming, hair covering me.  In moments I stared down at her, drool dripping from my jaws. 

“Hello,” I said in my growly voice. 

“Shit,” she said. 

She stepped forward and gingerly touched my claws.  “This is what your anger looks like?  Figures.”  She stroked my long muscular hairy arms, felt my fangs, smelled me.  She relaxed, not feeling threatened despite my appearance.  She felt my fur in her fingers.  Traced her finger along the edge of my pointed large ears. 

“Creepy and violent.”  As she drew her hand across mine, my claw accidentally scratched her palm, drawing blood.  My claws are sharp.  She yanked her hand back. 

“Sorry,” I told her. 

“No no, it was me,” she replied, taking a cloth napkin from the living room table to bandage her hand.  “Uh dad,” she then said, “if it’s okay, I’ve seen enough.  Could you change back?” 

I understood and left, walking into the bedroom, where I transformed back.  Then I slipped on a shirt and pants and returned to her. 

“Better,” she said.  “You know, no one will believe that special suit story.” 

“It wasn’t my idea.”  I sat on the couch next to her. 

She did not move away.  “That was really amazing.  You can control it?  That’s you in there?” 

“Me in there and out there.” 

“I thought a lot about what to say, before.  Now I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, it’s a lot.”

“Has it helped?  Are you still crazy?” 

It can be difficult to appreciate honesty.  “Honestly?  I don’t know.  It being outside, physical, fills me with strength, confidence, power.  I can control it.  And I’m still angry, but not as much.  I don’t get angry with people any more.” 

“That’s good.”

“But I can’t control what they will want me to do.  They used me as a weapon.  I never seriously thought that would happen, not to me.” 

“You’ve done it to others,” she snipped.  Then, in a softer tone, “You did save lives.” 

I shrugged.  “When I had to act, when they shot at me, something snapped.  I didn’t have to kill them, honey.  It was over before I knew what had happened.  Like one of my fits.  That body did it all.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“No.” 

“And now you’re left with the future.  What is it?”   

“No idea.” 

“What about mom?  She’s upset.”  She was looking at me intently.  It made me uncomfortable, yet here she was, finally talking with me.  She also looked uncomfortable.   

“Mom’s involved.  I don’t know what she told you,” I said, “but I had the idea and she made it real.  She’s been there for all the tests, except the bank.  Mom’s invested but she thinks it’s going too fast.” 

“Maybe it is.”  She was shifting on the couch again.  “Dad, I’m twitchy.  Can we go for a walk or something?” 

We went out through the kitchen door.  The guards in the car outside got out and followed, at a discrete distance.  I waved to them, and they remained at a discrete distance.  I opened the back yard gate and we walked into the forest. 

She breathed in deep.  “It’s so clean in here.  I love these woods.” 

We walked into the trees, following a trail.  I could not remember the last time I had done anything like this with her.  Just being with her, not talking. 

It made me nervous. 

“How’s school?” 

She stopped to smell a wildflower, handed it to me.  “Thinking of quitting.” 

I looked at her with fatherly concern.  “Quitting college?  You’re halfway through.” 

“I’ve had three installations in the last few months, with more coming.  I do public pieces once a week, sometimes twice.  I’m learning more from work than college.  And the work pays.” 

“What about the MFA?”

“Not much use unless I want to be an academic.” 

“So you’re working close to full time?  I had no idea.  What about your classes?” 

“I’ve got a month to go, so I’ll finish them.  Then I’ll decide about another year.” 

“I had no idea,” I repeated. 

“Well, it’s been a while.  I’m sorry,” she said.  “Mom’s tense.” 

“Yeah.”

“Can you do anything?” 

“I try to reassure her.” 

“It isn’t working.”      

We continued walking along the trail, surrounded by plants deep in their own world, as we were in ours. 

She said she’d call in a week. 

We never held hands.  I settled for walking closely together.

Chapter Twelve

Treading

I tried to talk with Madeline.  I approached her in her lab, she said she was too busy.  I waited until she took a seat in the cafeteria for lunch, then tried to sit next to her.  “Not today,” she said, so I moved away.  She refused to meet, have dinner or talk.  I asked why. 

“You know why,” she replied.  “My work is done.  I’ve been sidelined on you and directed to work on the next project.” 

“What next project?”

“Pinetree will tell you this morning.” 

I wondered what the meeting with Pinetree would be about.  In her office, we sat at the table with the usual tea and cookies. 

“We are planning what to do with you next,” Pinetree told me.  “It’s complicated.” 

“By what?”

“By what you look like.  Some of our work is secret but some will be done in public.  You look like a monster, agreed?” 

I nodded.  “That’s what my anger is.” 

“It hasn’t gone down well with the public.  Neither has the special suit cover.  We have to limit your public appearances, if you have any, while we develop an alternative.” 

“Alternative?” 

“Something pleasant to look at.  Something not frightening.  Powerful but not scary.  I’ve directed Madeline and other staff on a priority basis to develop a serum which brings out both the dark side—we need the dark side—but also something misleadingly pleasant.  Something that looks inoffensive and powerful but still has the anger component.” 

“I don’t think that’ll work.” 

“The first test, yesterday, was not great.  The subject evolved into a pink blob.  Not quite what we wanted.  We have a ways to go.” 

“And what about me?”

“You’re on the shelf.” 

“So I’m no longer looking forward to a career as a weapon?” 

She smiled.  “That was never going to happen.  You’re the first subject.”  I did not believe her.  She leaned forward.  “Isn’t this what you wanted?  Now you can continue your therapy.”

“So I’m no longer going to be used as a weapon?”

“I never said that.”   

The next afternoon, I saw Dr. Orwell.  She asked if I had thought about what she had said.  I told her I wanted to find out more. 

“It’s becoming even more urgent,” she told me.  “Pinetree branched out.  She has the researchers, including Madeline, developing alternate versions of the serum.  Ones which will be just as dangerous but which will be more acceptable to the public.  We worry about where this is going, and why being publicly good looking is a goal.” 

We sat talking.  She remained vague.  Clearly, she was part of a larger group opposed to Pinetree/the government’s actions.  How many people were involved, I had no real idea, except she said there were many.  The goal was obvious: stop the projects.  The plan to do so?  I was given no clue.  I did not know if they were hiding it from me or they themselves had no idea what to do. 

It was as disturbing as talking with Madeline and Pinetree.  I had hints, there were clues but no one was being direct. 

I phoned Melanie.  And left a message.  She texted back, “Next week.”

My own work continued, although it was no longer clear what that work was.  Involvement in the alternate projects was denied.  Colleagues would smile but not talk.  Having little to do, I began to explore what I could do with my own transformations, how they could continue my healing.  I was angry but not with anyone, at the situation.  Although I wondered if I was simply denying being angry with the people who created that situation. 

Blah blah blah.  Putter putter putter.  Work home work home work home. 

One her usual night, Gloria came over.  As always, she was very attractive, wearing a top revealing her cleavage and a short skirt.  Without speaking, we went straight to the bedroom.  After, I could relax. 

“That was great,” she told me.  “You didn’t want to transform?” 

“I want to control it.  I’m thinking about it.  I’d tell you, Gloria.  But I can’t trust you.” 

She nodded.  “Pinetree?”  I nodded.  “What if I told you I speak with Dr. Orwell?” 

“Are you?” 

She nodded, again.  “We’re everywhere, Mike.  A lot of us who work for the government want to stop what it’s doing.” 

“A lot of who?  And how stop it?”

She got up and stood before me naked.  “I appreciate you have trouble trusting us.  Do you appreciate we have trouble trusting you?” 

“Me?  What have I done?”

“It’s what you might do.  You’re a wild card.  None of us know what you’ll really do.”  And she walked into the washroom and came back wearing my robe. 

We did not talk much after that and she left early, agreeing to return next week.  She suggested I phone her if I wanted to meet early and that she would be in touch when she knew more herself.  It was all so vague. 

After she left, I transformed. 

I stood in my bedroom, tall and powerful, looking down on the bed where we just had a version of making love.  I looked at my sharp claws, at the sheets.  Ripping them felt…stupid. 

I went into the living room and picked up one of those fluffy throw pillows, waiting for me like a red shirted crew member on Star Trek.  My claws could so easily pierce it.  I tossed it back on the couch.  I could not destroy where I lived. 

I thought of going back to the garage, but there was nothing left to rip up.  If I tried going into the forest, there were guards waiting.  I could do nothing in public, where someone might see.  

I did not know what to do.  And I was someone who always had a plan.  I had to have some kind of short- and long-term plan. 

I could be called up tomorrow for another “emergency.”  Or it could be months.  Or never.  Or an “alternate” could fill my shoes instead.  I had to avoid being distracted the “group” and concerns over Pinetree’s plans.  My priority was me.  First work on myself.  The original idea was a cure.  Now I had been given a gift: the freedom to do whatever I wanted, including to pursue my cure, to eliminate the anger, to make my life a positive even with the constant threat of the negative shadowing me. 

And there were Melanie and Madeline.  Maybe Gloria, the only person I had a physical connection with. 

I tilted my head back and howled. 

I could do that, if it wasn’t too loud. 

Chapter Thirteen

Attacking The Other Research Base

The emergency call came a few days later–before I’d figured out what to do.  I was in my lab, fiddling, when Pinetree came in.  No phone call this time.  One look at her face told me this would be a deep dive. 

“We have an emergency,” she told me.  “You ready?”

“Yes.”  I did not want to go on another mission.  I did not see how being a weapon would help with my anger.  “Ready for what?” 

“Similar to the bank, except it’s military targets,” was all she said until we were in the chopper. 

As we flew, she told me, “We’re going to a secret installation, miles from the city.  Research base.  Some staff have gone rogue.  They killed anyone who didn’t join them.  The base contains biological weapons which would be extremely dangerous if they unleashed them.

“Army troops surround the base, but we believe your special talents would be useful.  These rogue staff have to be stopped.” 

“Another test?”

“Sure.” 

It wasn’t that long ride in the chopper, noisy and rough, and she told me nothing more.  I kept my questions to myself.  We flew about thirty miles outside the city.  I saw the base as we approached.  It was a small two storey building, surrounded by a fence.  A cropped lawn surrounded the building, extending to the fence.  Not much security.  Outside the fence, I saw troops and armoured vehicles.  Surrounding it all was a forest. 

We landed near the tanks. 

Pinetree got out first and was approached by an officer.  They kept away from me so I did not hear.  The atmosphere was tense.  The troops wore grim faces and bore heavy weapons.  They did not move. 

Pinetree approached me.  “There are five rogues inside.  I hear they’ve killed three other staff.  You’re cleared to go in.  The military has disabled the security cameras from here, so they won’t see you coming.” 

“So I go inside.  And when I get there?”

“They’ve gone rogue.  None of them can leave.  Understand?  Am I clear?”

I very much understood.  She wanted me to kill them.  I confronted her.  “So you want them dead?” 

She confronted me back.  “I prefer terminated.  Go.  I’m depending on you.” 

There was no place she suggested I change, so in front of them all I took off the jump suit and emerged.  All the soldiers backed away as my body stretched and expanded, my claws and fangs grew.  I towered over them, snarling.  Each use, less secret? 

I left them behind, loping forward to the fence.  I easily climbed to the top and jumped over.  Another moment and I was beside the building, panting.  It was quiet.  Not even a breeze.  I smelled nothing nearby, but there was a hint of a male above me, probably on the roof. 

It was a plain wooden building with large windows on both floors.  I dug my claws into the wood and climbed to the roof, avoiding the windows.  The scent was much stronger.  I looked over the rooftop, slowly. 

A man stood guard in front of the door to the roof.  He wore regular clothing.  With both hands, he held a pistol. 

He turned and I waited until he was looking in the opposite direction, then pulled myself onto the roof, crouched and looked—no one else—then loped toward him and, as I got close, growled.  He turned quickly.  I balled my right claw into a fist and punched.  His nose broke and he tumbled backwards.  I caught him before he fell off the roof and laid him down, unconscious.  I looked at the blood from his nose, feeling my fur bristle. 

That was one. 

I slowly opened the door, no idea what I would find.  Turned out, a stairway.  I saw no one at the bottom, so I went down quietly, keeping the noise of my claws scratching the steps to a minimum.  When I reached the end, I first smelled her and then immediately encountered a woman approaching the stairs. 

She stepped back in horror. 

I slammed her against a wall.  She fell to the floor unconscious. 

Two. 

A man came out of a room at the sounds.  I grabbed him around the throat and held my other claw over his mouth, muffling his screams.  It took a few moments before his eyes rolled back and I could let him fall.  I smelled two people in the room he had come from.  I leapt in.  A man and a woman were just rising from their chairs.  The woman held a pistol.  I leapt forward, snarling, grabbing the pistol with one claw while punching her in the face with the other.  The man took hold of my arm, his fingers digging into my fur.  As I dropped the woman, I turned to look at him and snarled. 

He fainted. 

Four. 

One left. 

I had seen no one dead.  I had smelled no corpses. 

I took in the scents on the floor.  There was a fifth, a woman.  She had been on this floor very recently, then taken the stairs to the first floor.  My last prey was there. 

I heard nothing as I went quietly down the stairs.  I stopped on the first floor, to smell.  She was down the hall, in a room.  The door was open.  I went for it and entered the room.  It was a lab, looking a lot like mine. 

She was waiting for me.  I stood before her, jaws drooling.  She looked at me unsurprised but frightened.  Her expression asked if I was going to kill her.  She was too frightened to talk. 

I transformed, and soon was naked.  I held my hands in front of my crotch.  “I didn’t kill them.  I won’t kill you.  What’s this about?” 

“Don’t you know?” 

“I’m on need to know and I guess I didn’t need.” 

“We do research at this station.  Very similar to yours.” 

“You know who I am?”

She nodded.  “The work has become worse than anything we’ve ever done or bargained for.  The group of us decided to go on strike.  Stop working.  Make a statement. 

“Pinetree sent in the troops.” 

“So you just told them you wouldn’t do the work anymore?” 

She sighed.  “We did expect a military response.  This is all so secret.” 

I looked out the window.  I saw the troops on the other side of the fence.  “I can’t get you out of here.  I can’t save you.  The best I can do is not harm you.” 

She looked at me.  “I know.”  She took a little breath.  “Tell Dr. Orwell.” 

Her expression said she would not say anything more, and she knew it was over, so I punched her.  She fell back, unconscious, like the others. 

I found some pants in a locker, put them on, then loped to the front door.  I opened it and stepped outside.  Pinetree looked at me from the other side of the fence, maybe thirty feet away. 

“It’s over.  You can come in.”  Pinetree’s eyes bored into me.  “They’re all alive,” I said loudly, so everyone would hear.  “I saw no one killed.  I killed no one.  They’re all unconscious, ready for you to come in and get them.” 

Pinetree looked intently at me.  She could not send in the troops to kill them, not regular troops.  But I was a weapon, and she could manage that with me, a literal lone wolf.   She clearly wanted me to kill them, expecting me to unleash my anger and repeat the bank incident.   

The expression on her face? 

A combination of pissed off, wary and, unpredictably, curious.   

Chapter Fourteen

Happy Face

I expected Pinetree to be angry with me.  During the chopper flight back to the city she hid it well.  After we were in the air, she looked and me and smiled, though her lips were tight.  “It’s good you didn’t kill any of them.”

Mixed messages time began. 

“I controlled my anger,” I told her.  “I did what I wanted, not what it wanted.”  That was true. 

“Good.  Very good.”  That was not true.    

 “I didn’t do what you wanted.”  “I forgot, in the excitement.”  Also not true.

There was air turbulence.  We held onto wall straps.  When it calmed, she said, “Mike, I was over the top.  I’m sorry.  It’s good.  Forget it.  I won’t order you to kill again.”

I found her impossible to believe.  “Thanks.  That means a lot to me.”  I paused, looking at the medals on her chest.  “What’s going to happen to them?” 

“I’m told they’re being transported to their home base, for debriefing.”

“Debriefing?”

“That’s all I know,” she lied.  “Speaking of debriefing, did you learn anything?” 

“No,” I lied.  “I knocked them out before they could talk.  I thought it had to be fast.”  That part was true, as was “There were no corpses.  They didn’t kill anyone.  What was that?”

She looked at me.  “Motivation.” 

We did not lie or disassemble or be ingenious for the rest of the flight.  That’s because neither of us said anything more.  Pinetree sighed a few times, looking at me.  As we got out of the chopper, she said, “You’ve been kept out of the loop, Mike.  I’m bringing you in.  My apologies.  When your serum was a success, I initiated other projects to duplicate it.  Including with Madeline.  She is our best at this.” 

“Duplicate it?  Why do you need to do that?” 

“Not duplicate.  Modify.  We need an altered soldier the public will accept.  Not one which looks like, well, you.” 

“I know I look scary.”  

We left the landing area and got into a dark sedan waiting for her.  Her driver was in the front sea, we sat in back. 

“The idea is to present an acceptable exterior while maintaining the original idea.” 

“The original idea?” 

“To bring out anger for use in extreme situations.  As a potential weapon in that it weaponizes the unit receiving the serum.” 

That was not my original idea. 

“I’ll show you.  They have a first test ready.” 

“What about the subjects?  Do they have anger management problems?” 

“Not yet.” 

I felt she was not lying, at least not as much.  Her car took us into the parking garage underneath the mall, where she had a reserved slot.  I followed Pinetree into the Academy and one of the labs. 

Frank, a lab assistant, sat in a large cage—the same cage and chair I had used.  Video cameras had been placed around the cage and security guards held tranquilizer guns.  Based on my experience, I guess, Frank wore only a robe.  Madeline stood next to him as he was strapped into the chair.  She held a hypo filled with a purple liquid. 

When we walked in, she looked at the floor. 

“Is this the very first test of this?” I asked.

Madeline did not answer.  Pinetree said, “The very first.  She worked to modify the physical appearance of what emerged.  Less related to anger, more to something visually acceptable.” 

They were waiting for Pinetree.  She had nothing more to say, just nodding at Madeline in the cage.  Her own cage, in a way. 

She injected Frank, slowly pushing the purple liquid into his right arm.  She pulled the empty hypo out of his arm, then quickly backed out of the cage.  So did the two guards, leaving Frank alone in the cage. 

As with me, it was fast. 

His arms and legs bulged.  The straps on his body snapped as his body transformed.  His outer flesh grew pink, pink and not quite fat but with pudgy arms and legs.  His face changed until it became a blank smiley face, with large purple eyes and a fixed grinning purple mouth.  He looked like a cute big marshmallow man, except his mouth contained sharp fangs.

Frank stood shakily.  He fell over.  He pushed himself up and fell over again, his plump legs without the muscles to support him.  We watched him lurch around the cage, jiggling.  When he fell another time, the pressure of landing made him fart. 

Was that his weapon?    

Pinetree told Madeline, “Give the sorry thing the antidote.  I need something that looks like a soldier, understand?  Not the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters.  Remember: imposing, not threatening.” 

Madeline replied, tight lipped, “Frank created what you wanted.  The serum did create a version of your acceptable appearance.  I can inject, but the result came from inside Frank.  The wolf is what Mike looks like.  Frank looks like marshmallow guy.  There’s no way to know until the serums do their work,” Madeline told her quietly.  When she finished, her eyes returned to the floor. 

“Psychological profiles, then,” was Pinetree’s response.  “We need to profile subjects very carefully to bring out what we ant.  I understand.  Keep at it.” 

“It’s hopeless,” Madeline said to Pinetree’s back. 

Pinetree took me back to her office, muttering.  It was a rare time she allowed, or was unable to stop, her own emotions from emerging.  Tension.

We sat at the table.  Her secretary had placed tea and cookies on it.  Pinetree poured us both a cup.  She sipped hers while I held mine.

“Mike, obviously, we continue to need you.  As a role model.  I want you to start working on one of the new alternates asap.  You’ve treaded water long enough.  Get back to real work.  The sooner we develop viable options, the sooner you get on with your normal life.” 

I did not believe her at all, but my best course was agreement and plowing straight ahead, staying in my lane.  While just outside the lane was Dr. Orwell and her group.  And I wasn’t sure how Madeline would respond to all this in the long run.  “I’ve been working on it.  I’ve restarted therapy with Dr. Orwell.  I think it helps.” 

Pinetree nodded.  I figured she knew I was seeing Dr. Orwell.  I left her office and made an appointment with Dr. Orwell.  Half an hour later I walked into her office.  I told her what had happened at the base.

“Their action was premature, but they were agonized,” she told me.  “They appreciate you did not seriously harm them.” 

“What’s going to happen to them?” 

She told me she was trying to find out.  I told her I wanted to meet the rest of the group.  She told me that, with the surveillance, would take time.  I asked her about Gloria. 

“She’s one of us.  I don’t think Pinetree’s suspicious, she’s been very careful.  You can use her.  See me every few days, we can get away with that.” 

Meeting with her raised more questions than ever.  I thought my next stop should be Madeline. 

She was in her lab, with her assistant.  She looked flustered when I approached.  The assistant went out for coffee.  I told Madeline about my talk with Pinetree.  She went to her computer and loaded a usb. 

“Look at that,” she said, handing it to me.  “Let me know which one you pick.” 

“Okay, thanks.” 

“You didn’t kill anyone.”  She looked at me for the first time. 

“Didn’t want to.  I controlled it.  I really did.”  I gave her a moment to absorb that.  “But what about Frank and the rest?” I asked, holding up the usb.

“I know.  It’s twisting the project out of shape.  I knew this would happen if the serum worked.  But Mike, it’s no different that anything else we’ve done.  They all lead to a weapon.  I’m getting sick of it.” 

“Why do they want one the public accepts?  What does the public have to do with anything?” 

She shook her head and returned to work, her back to me. 

I went back to my lab and checked the data on the usb.  There were five different new projects, working on the same theme: bring out usable inner anger with a physically acceptable exterior.  The exterior guidelines: impressive, powerful, likeable.  While being capable of extreme violence a normal human was incapable of.  Each approached tapped a different emotional core of the subject. 

It was easy to see why Happy Face did not make the cut.  I saw what they wanted but not the real why.  Why were they so concerned about how the public reacted?  Our subjects had always been secret. 

Something larger than me was involved.  As if a serum had been injected into the government.  There was no way to know what would emerge from that.      

Chapter Fifteen

Back To Me

I had to avoid the swirling political mess trying to suck me in.  I had to focus on what I could do, not what I couldn’t.  I returned to my priority.  Me. 

Pursuing my cure.  Not killing anyone at the research base was a huge first step.  Changing the angry me into Cary Grant.  Or at least Robert Downey Jr., as Tony Stark struggling to get along with anyone.

Now for normal life. 

I had to study how I related to people.  I had not become seriously angry with any of my colleagues since I first transformed.  Why?  It could not be as simple as seeing my anger as a monster.  I had to explore why my anger had become repressed, manageable—without me even thinking about it.  Not once did I have to stop myself from boiling over.  I never reached simmer.  Why?

I was changing, consciously and unconsciously.  How could I continue becoming a myself others would accept while still being a myself I could live with?  How much change would I create and how much would just happen?    

I was safe from military assignments for the predictable future.  I guessed Pinetree was reluctant to use me partly because she needed a better-looking version.  Partly, because I was a wild card she could not control.  Likely she was not surprised when I ignored her order and did not kill anyone at the research base.  Maybe she was pulling back, giving me less to do until she could figure out how to stop me disobeying her orders.  It could be any of that and more I had no idea of. 

I was living in a truly godforsaken mess.  At least before, although I hated what I did, life was stable.  There was Madeline and a home and a garden.  It was when she left me that it all fell apart.  And now I had pushed her to help me solve the problem, but the solution had deep roots.  There were more thorns than roses.

Yet it could be so much worse.  Why be a negative Norman?  Norman Bates was positive.

For work, my sole current responsibility was to pick and work on one of the new projects and pretend to be involved.  Instead, I would spend my time exploring primarily how I related to people.  My secondary goal was to figure out how the serum had changed my relationship with anger.  It was at least subdued—how and why?  To find the answers, I would be doing work I enjoyed, twice over: research and me! 

That sounded glib, but I felt happy.  There was a path forward and I would follow it, despite the emerging diverting side paths of Melanie, Madeline, Pinetree, Dr. Orwell and Gloria.  I already knew some of the paths crossed not only mine but others.  Melanie was the only one outside the circle. 

I had a list and boxes to check.  I even kept a daily diary, with notes on what to do that day.  That way I could record my progress.  A paper diary was easier to hide.  My plan had to be secret from everyone, until I could sort everyone out.  The first week was laid out before I started it. 

I texted Melanie.  She texted she would text back later. 

I saw Madeline each day at the Academy.  Talking with her at the start was like texting, only less personal. 

I ensured Gloria would be at my house the usual time on Friday. 

I avoided Pinetree and Dr. Orwell.  Although I could ignore neither, both were diversions.  Pinetree would contact me.  I could stick handle our conversations.  As for Dr. Orwell, I decided to continue meeting her twice a week.  With her, I had no stick.  I planned to ignore the politics–although I needed to learn the fate of the researchers from the base.  I saved them.  If I hadn’t gone in, perhaps they would have shelled the base on the grounds it contained biological weapons.  I felt–if not responsible for them–involved. 

I found that need disturbing.  I was used to being disconnected from people.

I began my new new normal.  Every day I went in, prepared.  For my version of working with colleagues.

I managed to encourage my assistant to return.  I chatted pleasantly with her and learned she was married and expecting.  I found it boring, but I showed sincere interest.  After I thought about it, it was boring because I did not care about her.  Yet I worked with her every day. 

For lunch in the cafeteria, I would pick a table with a couple of colleagues and sit with them.  Eating together is a social activity.  We chatted about hobbies.  I found it boring and had images of apes eating bananas, grunting.  After I thought about it, it was boring because I did not care about them.  Yet they were colleagues I worked with every day. 

In the evening, I approached my neighbours, one side at a time, talking them up.  Mostly we talked about gardening, always safe.  I found it boring and had images of sleeping in my bed.  After I thought about it, it was boring because I did not care about them.  Yet I lived next door to them and depended on them during emergencies. 

It did not take long, analyzing my actions and feelings, to determine that at best I cared for only a handful of people, if that.  To progress, I had to care about someone other than myself.  That would be tough.  I’d already found it difficult reinventing myself.  Me not feeling bad was kind of the end goal.  I had to at least pretend to care about them to get them to sincerely care about me so I felt good and was not angry.  The logic felt twisted but I had time to sort out the knots. 

At work, the only place I really interacted with people, I began working on being interested in them.  Interested enough so they thought I cared about them, that I saw them as individuals with individual needs.  I needed to know what my colleagues responded to so I could determine how best to pretend.  This took conscious effort and a scientific plan. 

I separated my colleagues into three test groups.  A, B and C ranged from a little interested to medium interested to engaged.  My data showed B, the medium group, was warmest.  A stayed distant, while C awkward with increasingly personal questions. 

After a few days of observation, I switched the colleagues.  A people were put into B, B into C, C into A.  Then again, rotating my colleagues until they had all been A, B and Cs.  Then I tabulated the results, which I judged by how my colleagues reacted, how much work it took to get them to react that way, and whether the reactions were positive or negative. 

Best results were midway between A and B.  More than a little interest, enough to know hobbies and a bit of their personal life.  Anything more was intrusive.  That was helpful.  I switched to working towards A/B midway as my new relationship normal. 

Perhaps this sounds a cold approach to one’s personal life.  I found it helpful.  I realized I did not care about people.  They were usually in the way.  I knew this was not how people normally felt.  My approach may sound cold but it would help me want to care instead of pretending.  Being able to be relaxed with people, and examine them, was good. 

Before the serum, I would not have achieved any of that.  I was still angry with the usual crap, but it was submerged deep.  Very deep.  As if it was reserved for when I transformed.  Was that how the serum worked?  If so, it was not a permanent solution.  I did not want the anger there at all, at least not the crazy levels I was used to experiencing. 

I know all this sounds cold.  But there were a handful of people I cared about.  I cared about Melanie.  When she did not return my text, I texted her again.  She responded, “How r u?”

“Good.”

“Okay.  My turn next week.” 

I decided to leave it until I somehow warmed her up. She had grown up with my rages.  Never against her but witnessing my anger was her childhood.  It was all emotional, but that was enough.  Establishing any real relationship would take time.  I could not rewrite history, only attempt replacing the past with the present. 

At work, I made sure I saw Madeline each day.  Some was on genuine work, some an excuse.  She was angry with her work being used.  I put her slightly above a B.  Slowly she responded.  I cared about her—I thought I loved her until I realized I did not love anyone–about the damage I had inflicted on her.  It was hard now especially, seeing her upset at the very time she should feel triumph and relief. 

I included Gloria with Melanie and Madeline, although I’m not sure why.  Gloria was an entirely different situation and project. 

At first, she was an escort from a service I contacted.  The service had been cleared by Pinetree.  I never escorted Gloria anywhere, except to the different rooms of my house.  It started a year after the divorce.  I sought sex, not companionship, and got what I paid for.  That lasted a while.  But, underneath it all, I was suspicious of Gloria.  My phones were tapped, my therapist theirs.  The escort service theirs.  I ignored the clues because if she worked for Pinetree, it did not matter.  She was there for sex and two hours of paid companionship.  Up until the serum.

The first time I let her see me emerge, and she was encouraging rather than shocked, even having sex with me, I should have known.  Gloria should have run screaming while I transformed.  No one would have even waited for my emergence to be complete.  That evening was when what simmered on the back burner went on the hot front burner. 

And then last week Gloria admitted she spied on me for Pinetree.  Except she also spoke of the “other side.”  Was she also spying on me for them?  If so, had she now switched to recruiting me?  Should I see her?  In the same way?  What would she do?  In decisions, I was only half the equation. 

Friday night arrived.  I phoned Thursday to check she was coming (sorry.)  Previously, she arrived, we talked a little and then went to the bedroom for two hours.  Now, I tidied up, cleaning the kitchen, put new sheets on the bed.  I was not sure why I did that, except I’d been thinking.  Our relationship had changed.  I vacuumed.  Before she was due to arrive, I had a pot of coffee, two cups and some cookies on a matching plate on the living room table. 

In terms of privacy, a week ago, the day before Gloria’s last visit, I scanned my house and found a surveillance device in each room.  I disabled them, telling Pinetree I deserved a little privacy, the guards outside were enough.  She agreed, probably thinking she would install new ones while I was at work.  She did.  I scanned each night and found more, the first two nights.  After that, none. 

Hopefully, Pinetree knew nothing of what Gloria told me last week about resistance among the staff.  My house was safe then and now.  Although I could never be totally sure—some surveillance equipment was able to hear and even see-through walls.  At some point, I had to decide whether the risk was worth it.  With Gloria, for several reasons, it was.

Gloria was on time.  Tonight she wore a modest dress, not her usual revealing clothing.  Her manner was entirely different from a two weeks ago, when our roles in the relationship were clear.  She was sexy on the doorstep, where the guards could see her.  Her back to the guards, she looked at me and, for the first time, I saw her frown. 

As I let her in, I looked at the two guards in the car parked in front of my house and nodded.  They expected Gloria.  They nodded back.  It was Friday night, 7:30.  Like every Friday night for the past year.  I wanted them to think I was being normal.

She walked into my living room, and, out of sight of the guards, her shoulders slumped. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” I told her.  “I think we’re both tired of pretend.” 

“I’d love to talk but I took too much of a chance last week.  Seems we got away with it, but it bothered me I was impulsive.  I had to reach out.  But I don’t like relying on luck.  I plan my luck.”    

“Relax.”  She was nervous, it was important to comfort her.  “Last week no luck was involved.  I disabled all the surveillance devices before you arrived.  I told Pinetree.  After that, each day, when I come home, I check.  I found more but right now the place is clean.  They have devices to hear through the walls, but even if they are using them, we can talk, quietly.  You okay with that?” 

“Sure.  What choice do we have?  She put her purse on the table, next to the cookies.  She picked a bit of lint off my shirt.  “Pinetree told me about the disrupted security in your house.  She wants to be informed if you’ve done anything different she should know about.  She’s worried about you being a breach.”

“Just worried?”

“For now.  It will get worse.  There’s pressure on her to succeed.  From somewhere above her.  People above my pay grade.” 

I asked if she wanted a drink.  She replied coffee was good for now–and thanked me, and said it was nice I provided coffee and cookies.  She said the cookies were her favourite kind.  I told her I’d remembered. 

We sat on the couch. 

“You tidied up,” she said, moving a cushion.  “Just for me?” 

I nodded.  She looked at me.  I said it.  “Just for you.” 

She smiled.  “My name isn’t Gloria.  My real name is Bridgette.  Bridgette O’Shaughnessy.”  She laughed a little, relaxing.    “Got that from a movie.  About a woman who lies.  No, my name is Phyllis.” 

I would have recorded that in my data as a B+, but I was not thinking of data.  “Okay.  Phyllis.  I like it.  Sounds real.  Nice to meet you, Phyllis.  I’m Mike.”   

“Hello, Mike.  It’s like we’re meeting for the first time.” 

“Phyllis, I’m going to be abrupt.  I’ve been waiting a long week.” 

“Go for it.” 

“Who are you?  What’s up with Orwell?” 

She poured a cup of coffee for herself and, with a nod from me, filled the other cup.  She poured a bit of milk into hers, stirred it until it turned a creamy light brown.  She sipped some.  “Okey-doke.  I’ve worked for the government twelve years, starting and staying in intelligence, working my way up.  I have top clearances, although with Pinetree not top enough.”

She sipped more coffee, so did I.  We were not yet ready for the cookies.      

“I’ve been all over the world for the government.  I’ve been assigned to friendly countries and to enemies.  When I realized that we often treated friends and enemies the same way, I got myself assigned back here.  I’d moved for years.  I wanted something more stable.  More than an apartment I knew I’d leave in a few weeks or months.  Maybe even make some friends, at least outside of the business. 

“I ended up working here, working security for Pinetree, among others.  My work requires me to use myself.  As you know.” 

“I was part of your job.” 

“That’s how it started.”  She took a cookie. 

I took one and dunked it in my coffee.  I liked it when the cookies were soaked.  They melted in my mouth delightfully.    

“About six months ago, a group loosely formed.  Not many at first but it grew.  There are several groups, actually.  Communicating must be secret.  Dr. Orwell is centrally located and generally above suspicion.”

“Is she the leader?” 

“No.  We have one but it isn’t safe to tell you who.” 

“Who’s in the groups?”

“Everyone works on these projects.  Everyone has become alarmed at their initiation and what they seem to mean.  Some of us object to the overall morality.  Some, to whether it will be used on our national enemies.  Some to whether it will be used here, on political enemies.” 

“Like vegans.” 

She laughed, a little.  “All we know is this is new.  A new direction with new goals.  It has a lot of us running scared.  The group at the base, for example.  They were isolated from the rest of us.  Something finally snapped, I don’t know what.  I think their idea was to destroy all the data on the base.  It didn’t make sense, but it’s tough doing work you grow to hate and feeling increasingly threatened.” 

This time I poured more coffee into our cups.  “I was there.  I didn’t have time or opportunity to learn much.  If they had a plan, I never heard it.  I did speak with one of them.  She referred me to Orwell.  Then I had to punch her.” 

“A lot better than killing her.  We appreciated how you handled it.” 

“What’s happened to them?” 

“Trying to find out.  Very deep security.  I know the base is still being examined to see what was deleted, damaged or destroyed.  Like our mission 3Ds.” 

I looked at her, not understanding. 

“3 Ds.  Delete, damage, destroy.  Those are the usual goals, sometimes one or two, sometimes all three.  Secret services love that stuff.  They like giving missions stupid names, too.” 

“3 Ds.  I didn’t’ do any of that.  Phyllis, like the others, I’m worried about Pinetree’s plans.  About whom gives her orders and what those orders are.  About the new projects, why she initiated them, why so quickly.” 

“Yes, she’s branching out, trying different possibilities with the serum.  I heard about smiley face guy.  Sounds like a joke.” 

“That was a joke.  But sooner or later, they’ll stumble into the right combination of individual person and serum that will give them a soldier who looks like Superman, complete with spit curl.  Someone strong who will be trusted on sight.

“What do they want with troops like that?  How many varieties will they develop?  And once you have an army, history says you use it.  An army of serum enhanced super soldiers.  None of this looks good.” 

We talked for a couple of hours, about nothing much really.  It felt a lot better than what we usually did.  Then she left.  Time was up and we both wanted the guards outside to not be on their guard.  We agreed to meet as usual next Friday. 

Neither of us wanted it to end but the guards outside expected her to stay two hours and then leave.  So that had to be, ending our evening together.

Interestingly, we never made it to the bedroom. 

Two different men were in the car outside.  I nodded to them as Phyllis got into her car parked theirs and drove away.  I watched her leave, take the next turn and drive out of sight.  

I did not want next Friday to be difficult. 

I would have to try the A/B/C on the guards.

Normal did not feel like normal.  Nothing was stable.  Stable isn’t bad to aim for. 

I had researched my relationships.  Now I had to understand the role of the serum.  A cure even seemed real.  Certainly, my relations with people had vastly improved because I could pretend so well. 

I thought for a while about that last sentence. 

And that my relationship with Phyllis had improved because I had stopped pretending with her. 

I thought a while about that last sentence, also.  

It was not quite all about me, no.  But I remained focused on the cure.  Gloria, along with Melanie and Madeline, was now part of my cure.  Not quite back to just me.  I was learning. 

This was a very long chapter.

Somehow, everything felt like it was getting longer. 

I felt almost as if I was in a cell.  The door only seemed open. 

My Inner Werewolf Chapters 1-5

My Inner Werewolf

By Victor Schwartzman

Victor Schwartzman

vschwartzman@gmail.com

604-987-0190

604-328-0154

906 Bowron Court

North Vancouver, BC V7H 2S7

Canada

Copyright Victor Schwartzman, July 2023

ISBN: 978-1-7777625-0-6

Chapter One

My Anger

Anger led me to become a monster.  A real life monster, in many ways.  I have anger issues beyond issues.  Anger rules my life. 

Colleagues avoid me, I have no friends.  Anger led to my divorce.  I have not seen my daughter for a year, she has a tough time saying “Hello.”  Anyone would agree my social life is a disaster.  Anger.  I stew until suddenly I explode.  At the heated moment it feels like I’m being reasonable, not very angry at all. 

Looking back, I was a jerk.

I’ve never hit anyone.  The rage is emotional.  When happening, it’s uncontrollable.  I don’t even know.  When I feel it loping forward, I can squash it.  The warning signs are feeling everything is gray, feeling disoriented, feeling my face grow hot.  Suddenly I’m yelling and pounding a desk.  It appears to come out of nowhere, never lasts long and after I feel empty.  It is not satisfying nor is it satisfied. 

I had to do something.  My life was a disaster. 

After years of suffering, I was able to create a cure because I am a talented psychoneuromechanic. 

It is an unusual profession. 

For over ten years I’ve worked in secret military research–on the mind.  The minds of their soldiers and ours.  The government pays me to develop ways to hurt and change enemy soldiers and keep our own troops protected from similar weapons.  That’s what they pay me for, but I got into the work for personal reasons.  To cure my anger.  Over the years, I’ve learned many ways to influence the mind, leading to my real goal. 

My real goal has been to physically bring out my anger, confront it, argue with it and, should that fail, beat it to goddamn death. 

I am not speaking metaphorically. 

For years I worked on finding a way to physically bring my anger out, to look at it, grip it, control it.  Figure it out.  When I find my anger I will find myself.  Then I will create the self I want to be.

Confront your anger face to face?  Impossible? 

Obviously, you are not apsychoneuromechanic.  

Nor are you familiar with what government research has already produced.  (You don’t know because it is used in other nations and they aren’t our citizens, and that is all you need to know about your not needing to know.)

My resources included the base I worked at and my ex-wife, Madeline, a colleague.  The concept and research were mine, creating the actual serum was hers.  Pushing her, she created a serum to physically bring out my dark emotions.  It’s been hard for her.  Why did she do this for her ex-husband?  She saw it as a way of escaping me. 

Her serum, the twentieth version, or the thirtieth?, worked.  Used on test animals, it brought out the darkness.

First, we tried it on a lab rat I named Freddie.  The green serum half filled the hypo.  Madeline held Freddie while I injected the precious drug into it. 

For a moment, nothing. 

Freddie shivered, then kind of turned inside out.  It was no longer a cute lab rat.  Its arms and legs were longer, the claws sharper.  Its face narrowed and extended, its jaws growing.  It was ugly and angry.  We watched it pace its cage relentlessly. 

After two hours, we put Freddie in with normal rats, to test social interactions.  Before we could stop them, the other rats killed Freddie.  They tore him apart, although he fought.  They did not want Freddie to live. 

For Freddie the experiment had not worked out well.  But for me it was perfect.  The serum worked! 

Looking at Freddie’s remains, Madeline said what she’d always said, although this time with far more conviction.  “This is a bad idea.” 

“No, it works.” 

“Pinetree will find out.”

“Not for a while.” 

“You’re on the road to disaster.”   

“I’m on the road to self-discovery.”

I suppose you need an explanation why I was so stupid. 

For you to understand, I should tell you everything. 

Oh, my name is Mike. 

Chapter Two

From Freddie to Me

The secret military research base I work at hides in plain sight.  Our cover is The Social Media Academy.  We have a floorin a downtown mall.  Our cover is training people to use apps like Twitter.  Anyone coming in for the training is turned away.  The ‘paying students’ are military in civilian clothing.   Everyone else is a scientist or administrator.  Behind the classrooms are labs working on experiments to alter the mind and body.  It’s a nice mall, shopping is very convenient. 

Madeline and I had our own labs—we separated after the divorce.  Today we were in her lab—she had the serum—looking at Freddie 2.  He was a sweet little chimp.  Normal labs were restricted in using chimps.  We did what we needed. 

We needed more tests. 

We gave Freddie 2 his shot.  For safety, we first placed him in a small cage.  He shivered just as Freddie 1 had, then with a cry I can describe only as anguished he doubled in size.  His bigger eyes were bloodshot, deep and angry.  His fur was wild, not smooth but standing on edge.  His fingers had claws. 

The serum had worked.  Freddie 2 was no longer a chimp.  He had transformed—something inside had come out.  He bared his larger fangs, glared with his larger eyes and lunged.  The bars of the cage rattled, the table shook. 

We took videos. 

We went to our separate homes and waited overnight.  Would Freddie 2 change more?  Change back? 

When we walked in the next morning, his empty cage was on the floor, the bars bent open.  Madeline’s lab was ransacked, papers and test tubes and laptops everywhere, damaged or destroyed.  As if items had been targeted and attacked.    

We heard growling. 

I took a tranquilizer gun from the floor.  And a few of the scattered darts.  I loaded the gun and we edged in.  More growling.  Scary growling.  I heard him, saw nothing.    

Until, not far from us, Freddie 2 dropped onto a table.  He’d been hanging from water pipes across the ceiling.  He beat his broad chest, a display before the attack.  As he opened his jaws to howl, I shot him.  The dart hit him in the chest.  He looked at it.  I reloaded and shot again.  The third dart finally brought him unconscious to the floor. 

We lifted him back on the lab table.  After a nod from Madeline, I injected him with a quick death.  Freddie 2 was too miserable and dangerous to live.  The antidote was almost ready.  We should have waited, but I pushed us to keep going. 

“Two dead,” Madeline told me, putting Freddie 2 in a bag.  She was forty, thin, with short blonde hair.  I used to love her, or at least found her good to be with.  I’m not sure I ever have loved her.  But Madeline still loves me.  She once said she gave her heart to me, and years later said she wanted it back.  She loved me but couldn’t stand me. 

“Your serum works,” I replied. 

“We had to kill them.”

“His fellow rats killed Freddie,” I told her.  “A human brain is better developed than a rat or a chimp’s.  I can handle the serum.  And you said the antidote will be ready this week.”

She sighed, defeated.   “We’ll have to inform Lydia.” 

General Lydia Pinetree oversaw The Social Media Academy.  Pinetree was a hurdle.  She would see this as either as a vanity project or potential weapon.  Or both.  Better she was out of the loop.  “She doesn’t have to know until she has to,” I replied.  “Or until she finds out.”

And then we had one of those arguments.  I got angry and shouted.  But I cooled down and apologized.  She agreed to continue work on the human dose and complete the antidote, which she admitted was ready, if I agreed to speak with General Pinetree and stop yelling. 

Madeline wanted to get it done and get rid of me too.  Me too.  “I have an appointment with her anyway,” I muttered–I hadn’t compromised much.  “About the letter from staff.”

She looked at me.  “I wouldn’t sign it.  It was awful.  But you know their point.” 

“Thanks.”

“Will she fire you?”

I suppose I smiled.  “Let you know.” 

The Academy hallways were heavy duty normal.  Ten-foot ceilings for head space so no one felt confined, stiff light brown carpeting to muffle footsteps, complimented by plain eggshell walls with framed posters of beaches, hockey players and horses never in corrals. 

Colleagues gave me a wide birth.  Apart from my other history, they’d all heard about the latest incident, three days ago.  I came out to the parking lot and saw I had a flat.  I kicked in the fender.  It was stupid.  Colleagues came out to go home and saw me kicking a rear fender until it was a mess. 

Fred approached.  During a staff meeting last week, I’d angrily belittled his project.  I sought him out the next day and apologized–but I’ve learned it becomes a problem when you’ve apologized too many times.  He’d signed the letter to Pinetree.  I guessed he was an instigator.  They wanted me fired.  As Fred approached, he gave me such a wide berth he hit the wall. 

I walked into Pinetree’s front office.  Jane, her secretary, was in her mid-thirties, wore a black pants suit and a wary look—at me.  I had yelled at her a few times.  There is emotional wear and tear on the people around me.  My everyday encounters could be painful, reminding me of my failures. 

I needed the serum to work.  On me. 

Jane picked up the phone.  “He’s here.”  She hung up and nodded to the closed door behind her.  If she knew what Pinetree intended, I could not read it.  Jane for a long time had been so distant she might as well have been on Mars.  If I could put a number of people on a rocket to Mars, it would solve many problems.  Sadly, our speciality was not rocketry.   

General Pinetree’s office was large, warm, not imposing.  She did not need decorations to be imposing.  She herself was imposing enough.  She was a heavy woman who, in hand-to-hand practise/exercise sessions in our gym kicked the crap out of anyone who volunteered.  She was short, in her late fifties, with close cut hair and large eyes.  On the outside she was your best friend.  Inside, she had missions to accomplish. 

She had an old oak desk that was clear except for files, in and out boxes, her notebook and paper files.  Disciplinary stuff had her sitting behind her desk, the subject in front.  Mostly she used the meeting table.  It was pine, with four comfortable chairs around it.  There was also a small couch and armchair.  On one wall were books, none on the research we were doing.  No windows. 

There was on one wall a large print of an Andrew Wyeth painting, Christina’s World, showing a frail woman with disabilities, on the ground in a field, looking at a distant farmhouse.  You can’t see her face.  The framing made it look like a window.  The painting was full of yearning, Pinetree told me once it was striving. 

Today she sat behind her desk. 

She did not stand when I entered. 

She nodded to the chair in front of her desk.  On her desk was a teapot and one cup, for her.  When I sat, she held up the letter.  “You’ve seen this?”

“I know about it.”

“Over half the staff signed it.”  She spoke flatly, deliberately.  “They want me to fire you.” 

I was angry but knew it and could control it.  She would do nothing.  My work was too valuable. 

“I like the Academy,” she told me, looking at me.  “You know it’s my baby.  Fifteen years ago, I was handed this assignment.  I inherited a bunch of buildings surrounded by barbed wire.  I created the Academy and put it here.  There’s nothing about our work that can’t be done downtown.  It avoids an obvious presence.  My superiors like it.  So do I.  The only problems have been normal ones. 

“Except you.  You are great, so we tolerated you.  That began to wear thin a year ago.  Grew worse and worse.  I think the fender incident, stupid as it was, boiled them over.  This letter isn’t good.  I won’t have a mutiny.”

“And?”

She sipped some tea.  “And first tell me about Freddies 1 and 2.”

“What about them?” I asked slowly, feeling a prickle.  She knew.

When I said nothing, Pinetree added, “I haven’t spoken with Madeline–yet.” 

I took a breath.  “It’s about taking a person’s basic inner dark emotions, like anger, and making them physical.”  I waited for a lecture, something about fund misuse, lying or wasting resources.  Or just laughing. 

She waited.  

“Freddie and Freddie 2 were our first tests.  A rat and chimp.  They transformed.  Neither survived but the tests were a success.  Both transformed into something else.”

“Why didn’t you come to me with this?”

“I thought it would be therapy for me.  Cure my anger.”  I gripped the arms of the chair.  “You want to turn it into a weapon.  It could be but right now the idea is to bring out negative emotions so the person can deal with it.  I want it as therapy.  For my anger.” 

I added, “It’ll cure the problem with staff.”  I had lost control far earlier than anticipated, but thought I still had a grip on steering.  “It isn’t being developed as a weapon.” 

“It won’t be developed into anything if you don’t keep working on it.”  She sipped more tea and put down the empty cup.  “The staff will hear you are on probation.  You have to do better.”  Then she looked at me and smiled.  “Why can’t it be a mental health achievement and a weapon?”

Chapter Three

Cured To A Crisp

There may be a lengthy history of mental health cures being turned into weapons, although I found nothing but bad horror movies.  And now, my own life.

There are cures available for many illnesses–mental and physical.  Pills are one cure—although they can have unwelcome side effects.  Therapy is another cure—working through your problems in the hope that you can change yourself (never worked for me.)  Environment change is a third type of cure—change your job, move, get to that desert island.  There are also halfway cures–to modify or control the illness. 

Behind them all is the widespread acceptance that a cure for your illness is at least possible or due to shortly arrive.  These days, the science makes anything possible (I should know!)  People expect to receive soon cures for cancer or Alzheimer’s.  People even hope to receive, in their lifetimes, a cure for death.  Some people freeze themselves, to be unthawed when those cures arrive.  That thinking gives me the chills. 

Curing physical illnesses involves science.  Curing deep mental disorders involves faith.  Either way, you cannot do it on your own.  I needed the green serum.  Pinetree needed new weapons. 

Abusing cures is rarely made public.  Authorities keep their secrets and such work is usually top secret.  Secrecy is critical.  The public, if it knew, would consider the abuses immoral and clamor to stop them–but the public never worries about what it does not know.  (Caesar may have said that.)

My personality got me into this.  I have nothing else to blame.  No nasty parents who kept me in the basement or scolded me, no siblings who bullied me, no pedophile uncles or unusual traumas.  Why am I this way?  I’m a jerk.  I become angry because I don’t get what I want, including respect.  It may be as simple as that, I know the reasons are complex but they all boil down to one thing: anger at never getting what I want.  Never.  Never, although at times I have–but it doesn’t last and is never enough. 

I had to be careful.  Every cure comes with a price.  I wanted to be cured, not to turn someone into a weapon.  Although I have done that.  But nothing like this.  My cure was unique.  No one had ever tried transforming emotions into a physical presence.  Science had never travelled this far.  I was breaking new ground.  Beyond breaking new ground. 

I thought about cures and me and the Academy, looking at Freddie 3. 

Freddie 3 was a cute little chimp.  He sat quietly in his cage.  This cage’s bars had been re-inforced.  It was bolted to the table.  Freddie 3 would be our third test, after Freddies 1 and 2—this time with General Pinetree and two security officers observing.  Additional video cameras were in place, on top of the standard ceiling cams.  The security officers had tranquilizer guns. 

I held a hypo half full of the green serum.  The untested antidote was ready, if needed.

Pinetree nodded.  The cameras began recording.  Show time.  It had to work.  I could not risk more waiting, I could not risk Pinetree shutting it down. 

Madeline stood on one side of the cage, I on the other.  We talked soothingly to Freddie 3.  He looked at us.  Keeping him calm, Madeline stroking him, I injected the serum into his arm.  Quarter of a human dose.  I watched the green liquid vanish into him.  He croaked—sorry, not the appropriate word—he squealed a little.  We let him go and he rubbed his arm. 

We closed the door to his cage and watched. 

We did not have to watch long. 

He jerked around the cage a moment and then his body stretched.  He grew twice as large.  His face broadened, his fangs grew bigger and sharper.  His whole body was far more muscular and powerful.  The fur covering him stood up, wild. 

His huge red eyes glared at us as his large hands gripped the cage. 

Freddie 3 growled. 

He had never growled before.  Chimps don’t growl.

“Which is it?” Madeline asked me.  “Which emotion?”

“I don’t know,” I replied.  “Predator?”  

“Predator isn’t an emotion.”  She looked frightened.  “And chimps aren’t predators.” 

Freddie 3 howled and tightened his grip on the bars.  They were thick steel.  He pulled them slowly apart, bending them.  In a moment, he would be out. 

Pinetree nodded. 

A security officer raised a tranquilizer gun and fired.  Then the other officer fired his.  Then they both reloaded and fired again.  Four shots hit Freddie 3 before he finally collapsed to the bottom of the cage, snoring. 

He had never snored before. 

No one said anything for a moment.  Then Pinetree said, “Very good.  We need to keep going.”

I was relieved.  Madeline was disappointed. 

We took notes, reviewed the video, looking at the snoring Freddie 3, and we all agreed to wait until the following morning.  “I need to know if the transformation holds or he changes back.  What about the antidote?   Will it work?” she asked Madeline.

“We’ll only know for certain when we try it,” she replied.      

So we waited and the next morning gathered around Freddie 3’s new cage.  It was solider, with thicker bars.  There was a third security guard. 

Freddie 3 was awake and still big and still growling. 

“Which emotion is it?” Madeline asked me. 

“I don’t know.  It looks like anger.” 

The enlarged powerful chimp stood and grabbed the bars as soon as we walked in.  Previously, he would run through skill tests.  That day, we could not get near him.  We worried he would use his hands, now claws, to rip us apart. 

Every response was hostile.  Even to bananas.  We waited another day.    The third morning, the same.  It was time to try the antidote, especially as it was it was impossible to work with him. 

It took five tranquilizers to bring him down.  He was still conscious.  I wanted him conscious, otherwise the antidote might not work properly.    

We opened the door to his cage.  I injected him with the purple antidote. 

It was remarkable.  As we watched, Freddie 3 shrank to his original size and shape.  It took only a few moments.  He opened glazed eyes, looked at us, slumped and died. 

We pulled him out, tried CPR and shock pads to his chest.  Nothing brought him back.   

“Okay, I’m not sure why he’s dead,” I said quietly to the others.  “But the antidote worked.  He transformed back.”    

“He’s dead,” Madeline said. 

“Maybe a combination of shock, the tranks and the serum,” I suggested to her. 

“Not a setback,” Pinetree told us.  “When will it be ready for human trials?”

“I’m not sure,” Madeline said. 

“It’s ready,” I told Pinetree.  “For me to try.  For my therapy.” 

“Good.  I want to move fast.  There is pressure on us to succeed,” Pinetree replied, firm.  “For all we know, the other side is also developing this.  You can be our first trial,” she told me.  I got the impression she had made up her mind about me being the first already.    

“For a cure?” 

“Sure.”  Pinetree smiled. 

“Could I get a word in?” Madeline asked us.  We both looked at her and she knew anything she said would change nothing.  “Forget it.”    

Chapter Four

Madeline Gets In A Word

I’m still in love with him.  That’s the hell of it.  You cannot control who you give your heart to.  I wish I loved someone else.  His anger was a locked room, I was trapped inside. 

Nineteen years.  There were many good times or I would not have stayed.  But he changed.  Became worse.  Underneath, he feels trapped.  I was part of what trapped him.  After nineteen years it was him or me. 

I voted me. 

Mike saw the damage.  He agreed it would be better for everyone if he lived alone.  He’s self-aware, just self-serving.    

My apartment, two years now, is a refuge.  I still work at The Academy, still see him every day.  I enjoy my work but am increasingly troubled by it.  I probably would have quit a year ago–if it was not for Mike.  He wanted a serum he could use to confront his anger.  I knew it was possible.  To get away from him, I stayed and worked with him. 

The divorce hit him.  He got The Idea and pushed me on it.  The idea and initial were work his.  The slogging and creation are mine.  What Mike thinks it will do is almost certainly not what it will do.  I never should have caved but I leapt onto that slippery slope.  Although I consistently told him it was a bad idea, I finished the serum.  Because it was my escape. 

At least I go home and there is no waiting for rage.  Nothing to anticipate except opening the window and listening to traffic.  No shadow over my life.  Melanie is in her second year of college, majoring in performance art.  I never knew you could major in such a thing.  I have flowers on every windowsill. 

I miss our cute little house and the garden but living there was no longer an option.  Mike would have let me take the house.  But there were too many bad memories, in every room, at every time of day.  I was better off leaving.  I miss keeping house but not his house. 

Where does his rage come from?  He had an okay childhood, was never attacked by a serial killer, pushed into an open elevator shaft.  No traumas I discovered.  His problem is himself, his personality, his DNA, his hormones—people are a complex stew, often half-cooked.

I wish to God I did not love him.  Moving out and helping him was my cure. 

For him, have I created a cure or opened a gateway to Hell? 

Chapter Five

Thinking It Through

Meanwhile, about me, we were ready for a human trial.  Well, ready enough.  Pinetree never appeared to consider anyone else for the first human trial.  A trial on me, me on trial. 

I had many talks with her.  She was fascinated.  We had never tried anything like this.  For her, Freddies 1-3 were positives.  And as for me, she told me that I should be the first because it was part of my therapy.  She knew it was what I wanted to hear.  I wondered what other calculations led her to want me as the first human to be given the serum. 

You’re probably thinking I was living in a dream world.  That I was detached from the reality of how my cure would be used.  A military application was always likely, if I was honest with myself.  Weapons were my work.  I worked on a secret military base dedicated to such weapons.  Consciously, I always knew Pinetree would find out.  I’d just hoped not so quickly. 

And I’d believed that if my project was a success, I would be able to bury it, at least until the world was ready for such a cure.  It would be easy to label it a failure.  I had developed military projects for years with few achieving their goals.  It was basic to experimental work.  Most projects vigorously sped wildly off into the ozone. 

But I knew she kept tabs on our work.  Hell, Pinetree kept tabs on us.  Our phones were tapped–and she’d told us they were tapped.  We were top secret.  She would find out and then want to know if she could use it.  That road eventually led to bad news.  But I truly believed that no matter what, the project would give me what I wanted: a cure.  Nothing else mattered. 

I was desperate.  I would see my anger, confront it, tame it.  Tomorrow. 

Before, it had always been tomorrow.  Today, it would be.

Pinetree had taken over setting the first trial up.  The project even had a name: “Mike.”  It took a week for the arrangements.  I was consulted, but it felt like a courtesy.  My role was to be injected and react.  Madeline had disappeared as far into the background as she could.  She anticipated the worst.  I anticipated the best.  Pinetree anticipated using it. 

Lunchtime, I ate in the cafeteria, alone but knowing everyone was stealing glances at me.  They knew.  They knew about tomorrow.  I walked the hallways, one or two people even smiled a little.  It felt like pity.    

When I walked into her lab, Madeline said “Good luck,” looked at me and said, “Don’t do it,” then walked into her office and closed the door.  She dropped the curtains. 

When I left, the receptionist said “Good-bye.” 

I drove home anxious.  I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I was as concerned as Madeline.  Well, not as concerned as Madeline.  I was prepared to take risks.  Yes, there were many ways the project could go sideways and drag me with it.  Yet how could it get worse? 

The night before was tough.  I should note it was neither dark nor stormy.  It was lovely.  The sky was clear, the moon full and huge—a super moon.  I stood in the back yard, listening to the neighbourhood dogs barking at something in the forest just beyond the fence. 

What they were barking at was probably as alone as I was.  Maybe it was as afraid.

I kicked my favourite rose bush until I killed it. 

Kicked it out of the earth, trampled the roses, then dumped it in the can by the garage.  I went inside, looked at myself in the bathroom mirror and punched me.  The mirror cracked.  As I bandaged my hand, I looked at the different broken reflections of me in the shattered mirror.  Every part of myself was cracked.

I was so, so tired of this.  I so wanted out.  I was so ready for tomorrow. 

I did not sleep.  I was thinking and worrying too much.  Although, in the middle of thinking and worrying, suddenly I was awake in the morning.  I woke refreshed, as if I’d slept all night. 

You might say it was a metaphor for my entire approach. 

Lust, On Mars Chapter 44

44

Running

Newman turned on his TV and in a moment there he was, in his face–Shallot’s great grandfather smiling grimly into the camera.  Newman knew of this morning’s broadcast.  The entire colony had heard about it.  Almost everyone was watching.  Anyone still remotely close to Newman texted and phoned, urging him to check out the broadcast.  His sources informed him Madeline’s father had a copy of Newman’s original medical report, showing he had three plants inside him.  Newman knew there was a rat. It no longer mattered who it was.  This broadcast was the start of Newman’s endgame.    

His enemies were on the cusp of finishing him.  The old fart on the TV cleared his throat, said he needed no introduction, then introduced himself.  Idiot. 

“You all have an idea who I am.  I have never made a public address before.  I have always avoided, shall we say, the limelight.  However, we now face an emergency.  I have obtained vital information on our current situation.  I can no longer be quiet.  None of us can be quiet. 

“I am here today about former Councillor Newman.  This is not about politics.  It is about the wave of sexual interest spreading throughout our colony.   You know what I talk about.  It is damaging our production, damaging our souls.  Damaging our sense of who we are and want to be.

“I hold here,” he continued, holding up some papers, “and it is on the colony website for you to read yourselves, Councillor Newman’s medical report.  Not the public one.  The real one.  It states that he has three plants growing inside him.  Three.  And that he appears to be seriously…disturbed.  Not from the plants.  From his personality.  Having plants inside him is not the problem, although his acquiring their powers is the issue we must confront.

“The psychiatry report states he has a significant personality disorder.  And has very violent tendencies.  Police surveillance footage shows him being around colonists who then became infected.  Too much footage to be a coincidence.  With this new information I provided, the police are now preparing to arrest him.

“I know this is shocking.  I do know other colonists who have Martian plants growing inside them.  None of them have acted as Newman has.  None of them have done what he has done.  Which is to influence us.  Bend us, to his will.  The evidence shows he has created the sudden wave of lust many of us have felt.  There is a referendum tonight, to vote on drugging our water, to stop this insidious influence.  If it is caused by telepathy, I do not believe drugs will help.  I believe the referendum is truly about Mr. Newman, and what the colony must do to protect itself.

“I believe we must all take action.  The referendum is not a solution.  He will simply infect us, in some other way.  Please consider this information and consider acting on it.  Thank you.” 

He smiled and stopped.  Just stopped, looking at the camera.  Then the TV broadcast reverted to several pundits in a studio, reviewing that had just been said. 

Newman, lying on his bed, stared at the TV the pundits expressed anger and concern.  Newman turned the TV off.  He had seen enough.  He enjoyed watching TV about him, and that bad news was often good news, but this was endgame. 

He pushed himself off the bed, had a quick shower, dressed.  Today was supposed to be a good day.  Why had he written off that old man as no threat?  Jim phoned as he finished getting dressed.  Jim was alarmed.  He told Jim to come over.  There was a very long pause, Jim struggled, then said “No.”

“No?  I beg your pardon?” he said, stiffening.

“I, uh, can’t.  Lot of people angry.  With you.  A mob of them are in my office right now.  Crowding all around me.  Can’t talk.  Apologies.” 

Disconnect. 

Newman looked at the phone in his hand, then slipped it into a pocket and went to the kitchen, to make a quick breakfast.  He was hungry.  Increasingly nervous.  As he ate some bread, he looked out the kitchen window.  More than twenty people stood outside his house, staring at it.  Angry.  Disturbed.  Talking with each other. 

A mob. 

Or becoming a mob.

Newman swallowed.  Thinking.  Feeling physically threatened.  And the police would arrive soon.  To arrest him.  There were only so many people he could handle at one time, three at best.  One if they were very emotional.  Maybe none. 

He was outnumbered, cornered, soon to be made a scapegoat for their problems.  This was hardly his fault.  He only had followed his instincts.  To make Mars and himself great.  Greater. 

He had to leave.  Now.  It was not safe, would only grow worse.  He looked around, there was nothing he needed.  He thought of his computer.  It had been a while since he’d entered the game, spoken with his NPG.  But his NPG surely faced the same situation.  And if he entered the game to ask his NPG, that would be monitored by the police.  Their surveillance was beyond his reach.  He had to grab his toothbrush and flee.

He could think of only one place to flee.  Before the mob grew worse.  Before the police arrived.  Anywhere else, he had no chance at all.  At least there, he believed he had a possibility of help.

He strode to the front door, stopped a moment to prepare, then, shaky, opened the door and faced them.  They glared back.  The lynch mob.  A man two feet away shouted in his face, “What about it?  Making Mars great again?  By messing with out minds?”

“Are you a Martian, out for yourself?” another angrily added. 

“You poisoned our minds.  Why?  Because you weren’t getting enough yourself?  Dick!”

He tried influencing the closest.  Their anger made it impossible.  Too many, too angry.  “Yes.  It’s true.  I have Martian plants growing inside me.  I did hide it.  Wouldn’t you?”  Sneers.  “It was embarrassing.  I don’t know what these plants want.  I’ve done my best to control them because, for a time, they controlled me.”

“Bull!”

He was going nowhere, standing there confronting them.  He walked into the crowd. 

They parted, stepping back from him, wary. 

He reached his garage, only to see the door open and his cart’s tires slashed.  Windows broken.  The cart was useless.  He heard distant sirens.  Police sirens.

He had one choice left.  Surprising them, he turned and strode away as quickly as he could.    

They watched him go, almost running now.   His running away confused them—and then amused them.  Several colonists yelled at him that the police were coming to arrest him.  He would not get far, another shouted. 

Newman heard the distant sirens grow less distant.  As he turned the corner, leaving the mob at his house behind, he heard his kitchen windows shattering.  They were probably kicking in his front door to have a good time trashing his home. 

He walked faster entering a quiet side street, rushing.  Gasping.  Starting to pant, he was forced to slow down.  He hated the weakness of his body.  He settled into a swift walk, until he could run again.  Or walk faster. 

What now?  He could only walk so fast.  His goal was across the colony, it would take him hours, way too long.  Could he avoid being spotted?  Everyone knew him.  Sweating now, he had to preserve his energy.  And power.  Until he was cornered.  He passed people quickly on the street, ignoring their curses as he kept going.  Some grabbed his arm, he shrugged them off.  Others took out their cell phones and made calls.  To the police, ratting him out.  His former supporters. 

He picked up his pace, best he could.  Maybe he should have exercised after all.  It always seemed such a waste of time.  Stupid treadmills!  Pushing yourself into pain!  He made videos as a Councillor encouraging their use but his own treadmill in  his office had never been plugged in.  The sirens drew closer.  He was sweating more.  Now way he’d ever get there before being caught.  He was on foot, chased by police in carts. 

He needed more.   

More arrived when he saw a colonist park her cart in front of him and open the door.  As she got out, he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her the rest of the way out, throwing her to the sidewalk as she cried out.  He got in the driver’s seat, started the engine, put his foot on the power pedal and floored it. 

It shot forward, tires squealing.  Too bad the maximum speed of all carts was so limited, given they only drove limited distances and had small batteries.  Her battery had plenty of charge.  He slowed as he turned corners, taking side streets.  The sirens grew distant as he left them behind. 

Then they increased.  More of them.  Closer. 

Damn phone calls! 

Enough!  Screw them.  He had to take risks, get to his goal faster.  He steered onto the closest main street, the most direct route.  Four lanes, two each way.  He was still sweating.  He looked in the rearview mirror.  No police, yet.  No sirens, yet.  He again floored the cart, making great time on the broad main road, speeding around the carts in front of him, some forced off the road.  Sirens.  Increasingly loud sirens. 

He groaned with relief as the Farm appeared, distant, then rapidly closer and closer, the police minutes away, probably less. 

The main gates were closed, two guards standing behind them.  They stared at him, holding cell phones.  Newman drove straight through, knocking the gate down, driving over it into the Farm, ignoring their shouts to stop.  He headed straight for the locked barn, the two guards on their phones.  He braked at the front of the locked barn. 

People he knew and feared stood in front of the door. 

Madeline, her father, Shallot.  Farah, Katie.  Marjorie.

Jim.

Newman pushed himself up, stepping out of the cart.  “You going to stop me?”

“Not at all,” Shallot’s great grandfather told him.

“You need help,” Jim said.

“Step inside,” Madeline told him. 

Newman looked at them.  “What kind of trap is this?”

“No kind,” Shallot replied.  “Go on.  George is inside, waiting.” 

Puzzled, Newman rushed past them, sweating, grabbed the doorknob.  Unlocked.  He entered, closing the door behind him.  He locked the deadbolt, took a long breath, finally wiping the sweat from his face.  He looked forward.  Wooden palettes blocked the view, but he saw leaves beyond them.  And George, standing quietly, maybe fifty feet away, looking at him.

Newman strode forward purposefully.  He saw George.  Then he saw the plants. 

He heard the deadbolt being unlocked, the front door opening.  He turned to see Shallot entering.  Screw her.  Screw them all.  He’d come here for the plants. 

He walked up to them, to the soil they grew in, facing them, trembling despite himself.  He no longer worried about projecting strength.

You avoided us. 

Yes but I’m here now.  They all hate me.  Because of you, your seeds growing inside me. 

The plants did not reply.  He walked forward, only a foot away from the nearest plant.  Its eyes followed him.  As did the eyes of the other plants.  Staring.    

“Mr. Newman?”

He turned towards George.  Don’t get all twisted.  I’m here to talk with the plants, I don’t care about you Newman told him.  George stepped back, Newman returned to the plants.  The colonists hate me.  They’ll kill me.  Or worse, put me in isolation forever.  I need your help.  I have avoided you, yes.  I know you thought I might be capable of harming others.  But I haven’t really hurt anyone, have I? 

Yes. 

Can you help?

Take off your shoes and socks. 

Frowning, Newman took off his shoes and socks, hiding his worries about the smell.  His feet had smelled pretty bad the last few weeks.  He again wiped his face with his sleeve.  The Martian soil felt cool as he stood barefoot, crunching the soil between his toes. 

That feels better.  Thanks.

Why do they hate you? Why are you being pursued? 

I had great plans.  I abused my power, yes.  But it was for good. 

No.  It was for you.

Newman felt mild pain in his feet.  He looked down and saw orange-brown roots had sprouted all over his feet, mostly from his soles, surging out of his flesh, burying themselves into the soil.  Deep and then deeper into the soil. 

What the hell?  He could not move his feet. 

Your seedlings have grown enough.  They no longer need a host and they do not like you as a host.  They are returning to us.  As are you.  You will remain with us.  You have much to learn.  Perhaps you will, now that you can no longer move. 

George walked up–fascinated.  Shallot now stood behind him, shocked.  “George?”

“He’s becoming a plant, I think.  Didn’t know the seeds could do that.  Amazing.” 

Newman tried to say something but his whole body had stiffened, including his open mouth.  He could no longer close it.  His arms spread out, growing leaves.  His roots grew further, further into the soil.  Stop!  Don’t!  I don’t deserve this!  I only sought safety here.  That you would protect me.   

We are.  The colonists will see you as safe, now.  With us.  A plant.  No threat to them.  Many will see it as appropriate. 

Shallot touched George’s arm, unable to hear the telepathic messages.  “What’s going on?  What have they done to him?” 

“He did it to himself.  This was their best solution,” George said out loud, without taking his eyes off Newman.  “They never told me they would do this.  Never thought the seeds could grow outside us.”

Broad leaves sprouted from his fingers.  He felt branches growing from his sides, pushing against his clothes, piercing through them.  He could not look down to see, could not move at all, but he did feel additional branches grow from his sides, more from his thighs. 

Will I never have another orgasm?

He felt eyes growing in his armpits.  He could think but not move, trapped in an increasingly plant body.  He felt his telepathic powers rapidly shrink, returning to the plants inside him.  Now more plant than human. 

I can’t move.  I can’t talk.

You can talk to us.   

His skin was now rough, wooden, orangey brown, just like the plants’.  Much of his face remained, mouth frozen open, eyes staring. Unblinking but he could move them.  He still wore his clothing, though much of it had been ripped apart by the growing branches.  Eyes appeared in each join of branch to stalk, and in his armpits.  He saw through his new eyes now.  Somehow their vision remained separate and merged into one.  He saw a narrow field of vision, and saw everything. 

Shallot walked up to George as they watched the transformation become complete.  Shallot said, quietly.  “My God.  He’s turned into a scarecrow.  Can he think?”

“He’s still Newman, inside.  Jerk.  We should put a hat on his head, then he’d be a real scarecrow.  Scaring away plants and humans.”

His coolness was upsetting.   

By then, Cary and the others outside were now inside, followed by police and a TV news crew.  The TV crew began recording as everyone walked close—not too close—to the plants, staring at what Newman had become. 

His eyes turned to look at them.  No sound came from his frozen, open mouth. 

“What on Earth?” Cary asked no one. 

“The plants inside him made a sacrifice,” George calmly told them all.  “They so loved being able to move.  And when he masturbated.  Such a unique experience. 

“But.  They agreed with the rest of the plants that Newman was a danger to the colony.  His plants wanted no part of him, were embarrassed he was their host.  They suggested growing roots here, the community agreed.  They encouraged him to flee here, as his only choice.  Now, he’s one of them.  Forever. 

“He cannot move and has only limited powers.  He cannot talk with us, only with them.” 

Cary said, “Looking at Newman like that makes me feel good, frankly.  Agree about the hat.”

“He looks like a scarecrow,” Farha said to him.  To Shallot, “Keep his clothes on.  Reminders.” 

They all looked at Newman among the plants a long time until, eventually, everyone left but George and Shallot.  As he stood looking at Newman, maybe talking with him or the other plants, she took his hand gently and held it.  Squeezed.  Still looking at the plants, he blinked and turned to her. 

“They think I’m ignoring you,” he said to Shallot. 

“They’re right,” she replied. 

They walked to his room, hand in hand, each wondering what tomorrow would bring to life on Mars.  For now they had the evening, and for Shallot that was enough.  One day at a time.  Project.  The road to this moment had been rocky, full of potholes, but she knew in her heart the rest of the road would be as smooth as the ice covering the dome.

Lust, On Mars Chapters 36-43

36

Hurricane At Your Door

“Now what?”

Madeline looked at Sally as they sat in her apartment.  “Best guess?  He’ll avoid the plants.  For now.  He’ll sit with the workers’ organizations, quietly feeding their fears and need for…him.  Ugh.” 

“Ugh.  Drink?  Cuddle?”

“Not yet.  No time.”

“So…what?  Time for what?” 

Madeline shrugged.  She liked this chair, plush and comfy.  She could settle in and think, no longer weight bearing.  “We network.  Talk with the rational.  Use the NPGs to help.” 

Sally took her notebook from her bag, opened it, powered up and entered Mars and Me.   She started typing almost at once.  “Your NPG and mine are getting ready to go to the workers’ meeting.”  Typing.  “My NPG says the colonists in the game are almost equally divided.  Forty percent want Newman back as soon as possible.  Forty percent want anyone else.  You rank low.  She says the NPGs see you as weak.  She keeps reminding me, this is about change.”

“Thank you so much for the brutal honesty.”  She smiled, as if welcoming a good friend.  “Sweets, I’ve wanted out for a long time.  Out of this swamp.  The daily disasters.  This Martian sandstorm.”

Sally put the notebook to sleep.  “I’ll know more when I chat with other NPGs.  I saw the dome is not okay and water and power is mostly off for two more days.  No one wants to pump smog underground, especially not if they may have to live there.  They believe is a solution is within reach, they just haven’t figured it out yet.” 

“Lot to chew on,” Madeline finally said, standing.  “They’re ahead of us.  Like them, we should be heading out, for the meeting.  No time to waste, eh?” 

With no time to waste, Jim drove straight from Newman to the Farm.  On the way he made phone calls and texts.  He was stopped by a traffic officer but explained it was a political emergency. 

He was met at the gate by Cary, who took him to the barn.  Jim stopped at the door, then took a few steps back.  “Can he come out here?”  Cary cocked his head, looking at him.  “I don’t like the plants either.  They’re weird.” 

Cary went inside, closing the door behind him.  Jim stood outside, waiting.  He knew he wss not nervous.  He knew what he had to do, knew he could do it.  Still, he checked his watch several times.  It was a Mickey Mouse watch.  Jim bought it when he started as an aide with Newman, six years ago.  Mickey grinned optimistically as the second hand swept along.

The door opened.  Cary stepped out, followed by George.  George waved at Jim, relaxed.  “Hi.” 

“Hi.  You know who I am?” 

“Sure.  You work for Newman.  He want to meet me?”

Had this sixteen-year-old read his mind?  Or simply made an educated guess?  “You got it.  He knows you’re important.  He wants to talk.” 

“We already have.  He wants help influencing colonists.” 

“Not any longer.  The situation’s totally changed.  He’s resigned from Council, admitted his mistakes.  Now he’s trying to figure things out.  You see, he has a plant inside him as well.” 

“Just one?”

“Uh, two I think.  He won’t talk about it.  Embarrassed.  He shouldn’t be.  He needs to learn.  From you.  To feel more secure.” 

“That’s nice.  We think he has three plants living inside him.”  George looked at him a while, then put his hands in his pockets.  “Sure.  I assume, at City Hall?  His apartment?”  Jim nodded.  “Nope.  Here or nowhere.”

“He doesn’t want to be near the plants.  Not yet.”

“I bet.”  George smiled.  “Here or nowhere.  I’ll do a meet and greet.”  George turned, smiling politely, and walked back into the barn.  Cary closed the door behind him. 

Jim started the walk back to his cart, waiting before calling Newman.  He had to think this through.   George both closed the door and left it open.  He had to weigh it all before calling Newman.  Especially meeting in the barn, near the plants.  That would require quite the pitch.

George, satisfied, walked back to the plants.  Shallot sat on a chair, near them.  “How’d it go?” she asked.

“Progress.  Newman wants to see me.  I told him only here.  You?”

“I listen but they don’t talk to me.”

“You don’t have a seed inside you, cutie.” 

“I think they like me.  They radiate warmth.  Caring.  I feel it.  But they’re not in my head.”

“You’re only feeling their affection.  They like you.  Because, I think, you like me.” 

“Oh.  ….okay.  I think I understand.”  Shallot smiled for him.  What would tonight be, when they were together in bed?  Would he think of her or those damn plants?  She knew he was attached to them, so she had to be careful.  So he would not prefer them to her. 

Shallot wondered if her parents or even grandmother had these problems when they were sixteen.    

Sally sat with Madeline in her cart as they drove, Madeline’s cane by her side.  Madeline had decided using the cane in public was okay, or anyway becoming necessary.  Did her public image matter any longer?  Could anyone think less of her?  

Sally did her best to be reassuring, she saw the wear and tear.  And, underneath, tears.  “Almost there.  Gonna use the cane?”

“Gonna.  Screw it.”  They were going to a large worker’s meeting.  Many would see the cane, word would spread.  She shrugged. 

“How’s your grand daughter?”

“From her texts, she’s dealing with love, at sixteen.”

37

Democracy

The most active workers attended the general call.  By then, most workers had become active.

The only space large enough was the Marsball arena, with the agreement with Marsball that the meeting would be over before the latest regional final.  Colonists crowded, excited, into the seats closest to the playing field, where mikes had been set up.  Almost one hundred turned up—a quarter of the colony. 

Marina and Antonio were there.  Wendy was there, Peter performing emergency repairs on a water pipe.  Warren was there with Dan.  Cary and other farmers attended, as did all the workers on Air Quality.  The resigned Councillors were present, looking resigned.  As were their former aides, all now unemployed, wondering what was next.  Madeline walked in, limping, using her cane.  Sally stood proudly at her side. 

And Newman was in the crowd, chatting with colonists, contrite. 

The workers on Air Quality and the central Workers’ Colonists United group, formed only the day earlier, sat unsteadily on folding chairs placed on the playing field, facing the group. 

The Marsball playing field was made of large, interconnected trampolines. 

Marsball, a team sport, took advantage of Mars’ lower gravity.  Seven players from each of three teams played in a game, each player hanging from thin cables attached to the ceiling, on swivels running the length of the field.  A large red ball—the Mars Ball—dropped from the ceiling to start a game.  The players then bounced up and down on the trampolines, at times reaching near the ceiling, catching the ball if they could, passing it down the field towards their own goal. 

With three teams competing against each other, a Marsball game was fast paced, often dangerous as players frequently crashed into each other.  When the players grew angry and frustrated, they took off their gloves and punched each other.  Key members of each team were ‘enforcers,’ whose main role was to intimidate and punch players on the other teams.  Family audiences loved it. 

Children were brought up with Marsball by their parents, on home trampolines.  Being a player was well paid and prestigious.  Game winners were honoured, the ultimate finalist team celebrated with a parade and free pastries featuring the faces of the players.  You could eat a cookie with a photo of your favourite player on it.  Especially popular were Marsball donuts, featuring the faces of a smiling player, their mouths wide open where the donut hole was.  People enjoyed sticking their tongues in the hole when licking off the delicious icing.

When it looked like anyone who wanted to show up had, a woman stood up, on the field.  She chaired the central group.  She updated the crowd that there would be no power and water for several days.  Patches on the dome were holding, the Smelter’s new patches had failed.  The Smelter workers were exhausted.  All the workers were exhausted, working double time voluntarily, without extra pay—there was no money to pay them. 

The leader of the Smelter workers stood and apologized.  He said the Smelter needed more workers and was struggling, making mistakes.  The atmosphere was tense but his apology was accepted.  Everyone could smell the sweat in the stadium.  The leaders of the Dome and Water workers apologized to the Smelter workers for criticizing them, acknowledging everyone struggled these days. 

The woman chair noted that the Smelter Workers and other groups initially insisted that they each receive top priority for resources, but now each group’s position was that colony needs should have top priority, not workers’ groups.  Coordination was starting to work, channelling people and material to where they were needed most, based on a vote by the new central Workers’ Group. 

They refused to call it a Council. 

There was then back and forth between the workers on the field and those in the crowd.  By then, most of the crowd had left their seats and were sitting on the field or standing, bouncing on the trampolines.  The whole field began vibrating.  Those seated held onto their seats, some falling off until soon everyone stood, or tried to stand, while bouncing. 

The atmosphere was cooperative.  They were there to solve problems, not create new ones.  They all knew each other, had grown up together, now were taking responsibility for the problems they faced.  No one wanted power.  Responsibility is easier to swallow when shared.  Everyone bouncing made it easier, even a bit silly.

Madeline watched, to one side on firm ground, leaning on her cane.  She chatted with people bouncing up and down, listening.  Newman worked the crowd, hardly bouncing, feet widespread, barely listening to the speeches, instead reinforcing minds he controlled, acquiring new minds.  Although getting tired, he struggled to keep a straight face, enjoying himself.  They were all so naïve. 

On his journey there had been tall hills and deep valleys—behind him now, he would ensure that.  Victory would be easier than he thought.  And come soon.  He could feel it.  He never should have questioned himself.  It was stupid to think he was arrogant.

Madeline was proud of the workers.  They had always resisted working together to decide on resources.  That was what Council had been for.  Responsibility forced on them, they rose to the challenge.  She walked out of the arena as the meeting ended, using her cane, leaning on Sally.  Newman left as well.  The meeting was nearly over, he was exhausted.  He had a headache, it was too much and he had only done a fraction of what he’d planned.

They both missed Wendy, the last speaker. 

She moved from a trampoline to firm ground.  “I’m from Water.  I have an idea.  I’ve discussed it with other Water workers and our engineers, it’s feasible. 

“Our immediate problems are the dome and Smelter pollution.  What Water is proposing is not about Water and pipes.”  She had everyone’s attention.  “We pump water from under ground to the top of the dome and let it flow.  We can use weak piping we’ve thrown away.  There are ladder steps and rungs built into the outside of the dome.  We can quickly build a pipe along the outside of the dome to the top.  Then we pump water into it.

“Today it’s -130.  The water will shoot out the top and freeze rapidly.  Water will flow down, coating the entire dome with ice.  We think the dome can not only support the weight, it will strengthen it.  The ice will protect the dome from the sandstorms, stopping the cracks.  If any cracks start, we pump up more water.  After the ice has strengthened the dome with a thick coating, we can drill a hole through the base of the dome, connect it to the Smelter and pump the pollution outside.”  She stood on firm ground, watching as they went still, slowly stopping bouncing. 

They began to applaud.

Shallot and George sat on the bed, watching the event on TV.  “Very good,” George said to her, to himself, to the TV.  “They came together very well.  They deserve better than what they’ve had, leaders avoiding the issues.  They’re building a real colony.  The water idea of coating the dome could really work.” 

She looked at him.  “You sound as if you expected this.  I thought they might fall apart, arguing.” 

“They have too much too lose.  We want to work together but we’re trained to compete.”  He propped himself up, leaning against the wall, smiling a little.  “They only needed a push.”   

She felt her heart beating.  They had agreed about him using his power.  “George?”

“Yeah, it wasn’t just calming.”  He smiled more, taking her hand.  “All the colonists I met the other day, when they came here.  While I talked to them, we encouraged them.  We wanted them to work together.  To create their own solutions.  Not to be told what to do or think.” 

“And…you’re not?”  She squeezed his hand tenderly, though trembling.  “Couldn’t you let them decide for themselves?”

“They were too angry.  They needed to be calm, and to see the open door.  We just tickled their brains.” 

“I guess that’s what we talked about.”  She squeezed his hand again, firmer.  “Sorry.  This all has me upside down.”

“Only thinking of the future, Shallot.  For all of us.  Nothing wrong with that.” 

She smiled, her increasingly strong feelings coloured by his complexity, his underlying arrogance, compassion, intelligence, blind spots.  She saw his arrogance as strength.  He also had great wrists and beautiful eyes.    

She felt herself being sucked in.  She needed to talk with someone else.  Nan.  Farha, Allyiah.  Friends whose motives she knew and understood.  Women.  Who were not virgins. 

“Don’t worry, the colony will work it all out.  Sorry, they’re calling again.  Maybe they think I shouldn’t have told you.”  He smiled and walked out, to return to the plants.

Shallot sat alone on the double bed, dealing with conflicting feelings, thoughts, fears.  She heard some noise in the barn and assumed it was workers.  If it was anything important, George would tell her, he was outside.  She sighed.  The game.  She could speak with NPG Shallot.  She got off the bed and was at her desk, opening the game, to speak to someone artificial, when George leaned in. 

“Katie’s back.”  He motioned behind him.  “She’s feeling alone and frightened and confused.  Thought you might know something about that.”  She followed him out of the room.  He pointed to the storage rooms on the other side of the barn, opposite their room.  One door was open. 

George returned to the plants, now walking among them.  Shallot approached the open door.  Inside, she saw Katie sitting on a single bed, trembling.  Just a bed, nothing else yet.  She looked up when Shallot knocked lightly on the door.    

“You came back,” Shallot said, stating the obvious.  “What did they do to you?”

Katie continued to tremble, hands in her lap.  “I tried going home.  My mom and dad are frightened of me.  They wouldn’t go near me.  Because of the plants inside me.  Newman and others panicked them.  It was a horror show.  I tried calming them, they realized it and then it was worse.”

Shallot nodded and stepped into the small room.   

“I walked out.  No way I could stay.  My relationship, it’s changed like forever.  Outside, I had nowhere to go.  Couldn’t return to the Clinic, ever.  No way I could stay with any of my friends, their parents would be as bad.  The only other place I could think of was here.  George was here.  And you.  I remember you from fourth grade.” 

Shallot sat on the small bed next to her.  “How about company for a while?  George sleeps in there, but that’s all he does.  He talks to the plants.  You could move in with me for a while, he could use this room.”  That solved her problem with George—getting some space to sort her feelings out—and helped Katie.  “Share with me.  Sleepover?” 

Katie shook her head.  “Thanks.  Maybe.  Right now, I feel better alone.  There’s so much I have to figure out.”

“Yeah,” Shallot told her quietly.  “I totally know.  Well, maybe I have no idea.  Struggling to get a grip.”

Katie grunted in agreement, from deep inside.  “How’s George?  I worry about him, what he’s thinking.”

“He spends almost all his time with the plants.  He’s more interested in them than me.  He feels bad about it.  They talk a lot, just them.  I have no idea what.  They never speak out loud.” 

“They’re teaching him,” Katie replied.  “Feeding him.  Their main interest, I think, is protecting the plants growing in us.  I feel nothing but warmth from them.  What I don’t know, neither do they, is whether the two plants inside me will be content to remain inside me.  I talk with them, they want to grow but don’t want to hurt me.

“God, I wish I didn’t have to deal with this.  George, he deliberately took another seed, they gave him their best the first day he was here.  He has three.” 

Shallot looked through the open doorway at George, standing in the centre of the plants, stroking their leaves, all their eyes on him.  Except the plants nearest to them, which looked at Shallot and Katie. 

Later that night, Shallot slept in her bed when George came in and pushed her shoulder, waking her.  She looked up.  There was a bulge in his pants. 

“It’s time,” he told her.  He took off his clothes, pulled her nightgown off–she lifted herself to help–then lay on top of her.  “I think you’re wonderful.  And that you want this.”

“Yes,” she whispered.  “I feel bad about that morning.”  She felt him push into her. 

She gasped. 

He moaned.

He pushed in deeper, easily as she felt him fill her.  Her first time.  She winced at a little pain.  He was completely inside her.  The romance novels were not like this.  He held himself deep inside her, then began a steady pumping in and out, whispering into her ear she was wonderful.  She rose her hips, meeting his rhythm.  It felt natural. 

Fulfilling. 

She moaned.  It felt good. 

She also felt him lying heavily on top of her.  Smelled his sweat, his arousal.  His musk.  She imaged them on a sandy desert island beach, waves lapping on their toes.  His rhythm was steady.  He stopped talking.  He was somewhere else.  She realized she had no idea what he was imagining, where he was. 

Abruptly it felt unnerving, a heavy body on top of her, controlling her.  It felt good but…alien. 

Lust, on Mars. 

He certainly had an orgasm.  She was sure about that.  About herself, she’d never had an orgasm and thought if she’d had one, she’d know.  Later, they lay in bed together, smoking, watching the blue smoke drift above them, curling into shapes.  Tobacco had been one of the first crops imported to Mars and for some reason grew better than food.  Now there was no longer enough tobacco, so it was a mix including flavoured sythnico. 

Shallot never smoked before.  It was a night of firsts. 

38

“Life can be a lonely ride,” he told her as they sipped tea in his living room.  The room was scented by roses, in vases and the back garden.  “We need company.  We need other people.”  He nodded to Sally, who nodded back.

Madeline she sat with her father on the couch in his living room, watching them nod.  “Tell me about it.  Never thought much about my personal life before.  Like a cart at the electric plug, being refueled to keep going.” 

“Welcome,” he said to Sally.  “Heard a lot about you.  Good to finally meet you.”

Sally smiled, sitting across from them.  They sat together on the couch, she in a comfortable arm chair facing them.  Everyone had a cup of tea.  “She talks about you a lot.  We’ve met a few times, but only at her office.  We’ve never really talked.” 

He smiled back.  “About time.  I met Mike, her other aide, also.  Serious loser.”

“There’s hope for him,” Madeline said quietly. 

“Yes, sorry, my big mouth.” 

“No, I still have feelings for him.  Pity.  Some guilt.”

They all sipped tea. 

Madeline felt awkward, as did Sally.  Sally didn’t even like tea.  And the roses were a bit much.  “You weren’t surprised about us,” Sally said to him.

“It was not hard to guess, between her comments about Mike and you, where her personal life might be heading.”  He poured more tea.  To him it smelled pleasant in the room, of roses, a rich aroma, not too sweet.  “I watched the arena meeting on TV,” he told them, holding his cup.  “Looks like our little village is coming together.  Too bad it took two hundred years and a few disasters.  I like the water idea.”  They had not heard yet, so he explained Wendy’s presentation. 

“Sweet.  They rose to the occasion,” Madeline told him. 

“And you?” he asked.

She finally smiled.  “The Council can drop dead.  Wish them the best.  For me, I’m gone.  Out of there.  My ambition was killed, slowly.  Especially during my second term, when nothing better happened.  I focussed wrong.  What I should do and who I could be.  Lately it’s felt all wrong, my whole life.  I never focussed on me.”

“I was proud of you as Mayor,” he told her.

“That was part of the problem, dad.  I love pleasing you.”

“Oh?”  He straightened a little.  Then, yes, you should have ignored me.  And your mother.  And focussed on what you wanted.”

“Why didn’t you just say something?”

“You were the Mayor we needed.”  He smiled.  “It’s your life, sweetie.  You made your own decisions.” 

“Uh huh.  From now on, feel free to give me helpful hints when you think I’m totally off track.”  He hugged her.  They drank more tea.  “Dad, the village is evolving fine.  The problem is Newman.  He started with Council, now he has all of them, except Marjorie.  He has the plants’ powers.”

Sally directly asked him.  “Why hasn’t he done Marjorie?”

“He can’t.  She has two plants growing inside her.  She protected herself.  Me.  And without you knowing, both of you.  Coated us.”

“Coated?”  They both blinked, tea cups in their hands. 

He explained he had known Marjorie from birth, her mother and his wife were great friends.  He’d watched her grow, encouraged her political ambitions, as he had Madeline’s.  Halfway through her second term, she secretly visited him.  She had boils on her back and was terrified of going into the Clinic.  It meant death.  He assured her the condition was not contagious, that the Clinic could do nothing, that she would be  most comfortable going home and waiting it out. 

She stayed in his guest bedroom three weeks.

The first week, she struggled.  Then she grew stronger, returning to her old self—and something beyond.  There were two plants growing inside her, she told him, and she spoke with them telepathically.  She nourished them, they nourished her.  She swore him to secrecy.  No one could know.  Her husband had passed away but she had children and grand children.  She would eventually tell her daughters. 

She returned to Council, newly empowered, energized, very much at peace.  She had always been that sort of person, and was a perfect match for the plants.  She did not like a lot of movement, either. 

“We talk every few days,” he concluded.  “I know you’ve networked with her.  You’re building a resistance.  Not to the colonists, to Newman.”  She nodded.  “Best approach.  He remains the danger.” 

Newman flopped into the comfortable plush armchair and wiped himself off.  That was good.  Better than with someone else.  He could be as slow or as fast as he wanted.  No needs to consider but his own.  Fondling himself, now satisfied, he considered his options. 

He could relax.  Stay at home.  Let them put water on the dome.  But there was a danger in them solving their own problems.  They had to appreciate the need for a leader.  He could sabotage the Smelter.  That would send them all reeling.  But production had to continue.  A new crack in the dome was possible, but too unpredictable and dangerous.  The underground?  Water production was vital.  The Farm?  Food was necessary, until the artificial stuff caught up.  If it ever did.

Madeline, Majorie and their pals were organizing, waiting to pounce.  It would take time to deal with them, they were the toughest to influence.  He did not understand why Madeline and Marjorie resisted him.  Even that Sally.  He had influenced Mike early.  Did someone get to them later?  Another mystery he must solve, because it meant another enemy.  Was it someone he knew, worked with every day?  Who also had plants inside them?  He would never suspect whoever it was–they likely influenced him to think they were fine.

Like he thought George was fine, and that Katie.

He needed to divert the colonists.  That was the only real solution.  Buy himself more time before all the doors shut on him.  Have them thinking not about the dome or other problems.  Certainly not about him. 

How about they thought about themselves? 

Sex.

He smiled. 

He thought of the colonists filled with lust.  Cheating on each other.  Ignoring work.  Breaking up relationships.  Subversion from within.  No one would know it was him.  It would be easier, he could tap into their existing libidos.  He got hard, thinking about it. 

Shallot sat in her room after chatting with Katie about sex and love and relationships.  Broken relationships, new ones.  Shallot left her to get some sleep, both of them, for different reasons, heartbroken.  As she walked out, she saw George standing among the plants.  He turned to look at her and smiled.  Her heart pulsed.  He was so strong, manly, confident. 

So George. 

He had done it, with her.  Was it making love?

She did not turn on her notebook but sat on the bed, leaning back on the propped-up pillows, needing to be alone.  To sort him and her out.  Her face felt warm, thinking about it.  She was no longer a virgin.  What did that mean, except she was no longer a virgin?  None of her friends had a problem with it.  No matter what the first experience, they keep talking about trying again. 

It was an important part of being alive.

She knew about hormones.  She knew about biology.  She knew about needs.  Why was it confusing?  Occasionally creepy?  That first time, George seemed so…self-involved.  Thinking of himself.  Not of her, of her pleasure.  It did not bother him, when she talked with him shyly, later, that she was glad he’d come but she had not.  She knew what her besties would say.  If you like him, go with it.  If you don’t, try someone else.  Whoever turned you on. 

Shallot felt she was way beyond liking George.  She was falling in love with him.  Giving her heart to him.  She did not think it was him.  Or those rows of plants.  It was her. 

Shallot had to go with it.  Everyone had flaws.  And many of her friends talked about boyfriends as projects.  They would make their lovers better.  So they were lovers.

Shallot was still on the bed, thinking, wondering what would come next, when she saw a shadow and looked up to see George leaning into the room, looking at her. 

“How are you, pumpkin?” he asked.  “I’m tired.  Of the plants.  Of standing.  Of not being with you.  You’re so beautiful.  So warm.” 

He walked into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Shallot saw only George, smelled him.  He needed her.  She wanted him to need her.  She loosened her clothes and made room for him on the bed.    

39

Leaving The Past Where It Belongs   

Over the next two weeks, the colonists were excited.  Production centred on creating new, flimsier piping for the outside of the dome.  Workers outside, wearing protective suits, drilled a hole into the Martian soil, directly over the underground water.  Then installed pipes from two pumps up through the hole, then up along the side of the dome, to the top.  The work went quickly as old piping could be used.  If it had small leaks, fine.  More water to spray onto the dome.

New lights were installed on the Farm and the crops responded, improving. 

Newman did not stay at home and watch.  He moved outside, among the colonists, regularly apologizing for his arrogance.  He did not respond to George’s invite to visit him on the farm, in the barn, next to the plants.  But he was a regular visitor everywhere else. 

Marjorie came to the Farm one day.  Cary led her into the barn, chatting with her about the crops.  Inside, George stood waiting, Shallot near him.  She smiled, seeing Marjorie. 

Marjorie smiled at her, looked at him.  “How are you, plant boy?”

He shook her hand.  “Could be worse.  You here to see me?  Shallot?  Us?”

“Katie.  I heard she’s in a bad way.” 

“How’d you hear that?”

“The plants.  Where is she?”

George was surprised.  He thought the plants’ range was limited.  “In there,” he said, pointing.  “In her room.  She doesn’t come out much.” 

“She feels everything she loved is gone,” Shallot said.  Marjorie nodded.  “But, speaking of that, not many seem to feel, uh, alone anymore.  Some of the farmers have become…horny.” 

“They’re not alone.  I’ve seen it.  People distracted.  Production is down a little, but at least we can now breathe without dread.  The Smelter has slowed down.” 

“It doesn’t feel right,” Shallot told her.  “Newman?”

Marjorie shrugged.  “My guess?  He’s still working on distracting the colonists, from him.”  They looked at her.  “I doubt he’s given up his plans.  He’s a Mr. No Defeat man.  I think he enjoys power.  But his real goal in taking over is to build an escape ship and get out of here.  That’s where he wants to go.  Up there.  Back to Earth.  So do I but I’m dealing with a full deck.”  She turned from them and started towards Katie’s room.  “If you like, we’ll talk more.” 

She stepped into the open doorway and paused.  Katie sat at a small desk, on her computer.  Probably, Marjorie thought, in that game.  “Hello.  My name’s Marjorie.  I’ve had two plants inside me for almost a year.  It’s a whole new world.  Want to talk?” 

“About my whole new world?”  Katie looked at her standing in the doorway.  “It sucks.” 

“I thought so too, at first.  It must be far worse for you.  I was able to keep being infected secret.  Mind if I take a load off?”  Katie moved her chair, to face the bed as Marjorie entered her private space and sat on the bed.  “Could be softer.  I’ll send over a better mattress.  Can’t live a decent life without a decent bed.  …Newman knows the three of you are here.” 

“Can I get a better chair?”

Marjorie smiled.  “Of course.  The plants worry about you.” 

“Yes, that’s what they tell me.  I don’t like listening.  I have no privacy.  I’m part of their colony.  I hear their voices, telling me it’s okay.  That they’re my family. 

“I used to have a family.  A real family.  My family.  I tried going home.  I frightened mom and dad.  They were terrified of me.  Because of the plants.  Shallot’s the only friend I have left, maybe now Farha.  I’ve left my world behind.  Rather, it has left me.”  She began shaking, then began to cry, putting her hands over her face.  Marjorie moved a little on the bed, pulling at the sheet and blanket, wanting to comfort her but unsure Katie wanted comfort.  She already had suffered enough intrusions. 

Katie did not cry long, then sat up, wiping her eyes.  “Sorry.”

“I cried a lot, too.  What can I tell you?  I can’t compare myself to you.  My world turned upside down when I was a lot…older.  And nothing else changed, but me.  I knew I was infected.  Kept it secret and stayed at home.  I was lucky.  I have two plants inside me.  As they grew, we harmonized.  No other way to describe it.  You understand.  I could return to my normal life.  But you.  Enormous.  I’m so sorry,” she concluded, gently.

“Thanks.  I appreciate what you’re trying to do.  It doesn’t help.”  Sniffling. 

“I can speak with your parents.  Reassure them.  You’ll be able to return home.” 

She sat up.  “You can?  Without changing them?”

“Without changing them.  Better than you could, I’ve been around longer.  They’ll be themselves.  Totally.  I can tell them about myself.”

“I’d love to go home.  I miss them.  I could handle anything if I was home again.”  

Marjorie got off the bed and hugged Katie. 

Katie hugged back, holding her tight.

When they parted, Marjorie said to her, “For a moment, let’s talk to the plants.” 

“It’s creepy.  They’re different.  They’re alien.” 

“Do it with me.  You need to meet the community.  So far, you’ve resisted.  It will make life easier for you.  It did, for me.” 

They slowly closed their eyes, relaxing, standing together in the small room. 

Hello, Katie.  Welcome. 

You welcome the plants inside me. 

You and they are one. 

They want me to tell you they are happy.  That they worry about me.  Is that because I am their host?

If you have joy, so do they.  They look forward to you returning to your family.  They are fond of your parents.  We do not have families.  We do not think of parents.  We grow, from seeds.  As we grow, we join the community.  We have our ancestors’ memories.  We share our history.  Some remember better than others.  We are individuals yet one.  Talk with us to understand.  You have resisted.  We would never force you.

…it would help to be part of a community, yes. 

Looking at them in the open doorway, Shallot knew they were talking with the plants.  As was George, standing near her, eyes a bit blank as always when he talked with them.  They were not standing on the same planet.  She thought Marjorie would help Katie.  Katie didn’t belong here.  The plants made her nervous.  Well, the plants made her nervous too! 

With a little shudder, the other three were…busy…Shallot returned to her room, to open the game, to talk with her NPG, to think    

What did an orgasm felt like?

She spoke with him again, that morning, more directly.  He apologized, agreed he was only thinking of himself.  Next time, he would think of her.  A word popped into her head.  She smiled, feeling more confident. 

Project.

40

Lust, On Mars

Antonio and Martina ate a quiet meal.  He thought of problems in the Smelter, worrying about the reduced production, but more was on his mind.  It took a long while before he realized that she had not said a word since coming home.  Neither had he.

But they kept darting glances at each other. 

Antonio looked at the desert.  Pudding.  He sighed.  “Marty, we have to talk.” 

She stopped glancing at him.  “Talk?”  Nervous, now more nervous. 

Both were nervous since coming home.

“Things have been hard lately,” he began, hesitant.  “We haven’t gotten along.  For weeks, hon.  Physically, mentally.  Physically.  I know how long we’ve been married.”  She sat straighter.  “I think I’ve fallen in love with someone else.” 

Her eyes widened.  “Love?”

“No.  Wrong word.  I love you.  Only you.”  He shrugged.  “Call it lust.  I don’t love her.  But we’ve been screwing like crazy.”

She bit her lip.  “Who?”

“Nancy.  Her name is Nancy.  She works at the Smelter.  Earlier this week, after Newman visited, she kept looking at me.  Giving me the eye.  Coming onto me.  It didn’t matter I was married.  So is she.”  She looked at him, hands on her lap, to hide the trembling.  “Well, it was mutual.  We flirted.  It became overpowering.  Today, I shut my office door.”  He was breathing hard.  “Sorry, it was great.  I want to be with her.  All the time.  Or at least have that kind of sex all the time.” 

He paused, seeing she was quietly crying.  “I am sorry.  I love you.  I never betrayed you, cheated on you, until today.  Well, the last few days, we started kissing then.” 

“Don’t apologize, please, sweetie.  I don’t deserve it,” she finally said, eyes on the uneaten dessert.  “I’ve felt unloved for a long time.  Long time.  And Philip, who works near me in Admin, he’s always been so…friendly.  And strong.  Last Thursday, after we talked with Newman, something happened.  It wasn’t love.  It was lust.  It was so sudden, like we had been waiting for years.  We couldn’t help ourselves.  I couldn’t. 

“I’m sorry.  The sex was fabulous.  Woke me.  I feel woke.  And…I want more.”

He pulled his chair closer, looking at her steadily.  “Want to move out?”

“No.  I love you, love living here.  And, he’s married.  And, he’s already involved with someone else.  But he gave me orgasms, Tony.  Orgasms.” 

They sat at the kitchen table.  He cut off a small piece of dessert, looked at it on his spoon. 

After they sat together quietly for a while, he finally said, “I don’t know what’s going on.  We’re too old for this.”

“I’ve always loved you,” she told him.  “I never needed anyone else.  The last few days, it’s like my hormones have gone into overdrive.” 

“Yeah.  My work’s suffered, production’s down across the colony.  People are noticing but no one seems to care.  Most staff at the Smelter are horny as hell.” 

She talked quietly about how Admin also was in turmoil, less getting done.  Office romances in Admin were part of its culture.  But no more than flirting at work.  Staff had in a few short days gone far beyond flirting.  Colonists were getting along better than ever, in a way, except for the sudden break-ups.

He took a bite of his dessert and swallowed.  “Sounds like the Smelter.  Love your deserts, by the way.”  She watched him lift another piece to his mouth and eat it, smiling.  She took a piece of her own dessert and licked it off her spoon. 

“Know what you mean about hormones,” he said, his voice changing, deeper. 

He stood.  She stood.  He reached out.  She took his hand.  He pulled him to her. 

The kiss lasted forever. 

They headed upstairs. 

The bed felt like new.  Their aging bodies felt flabby–who cared?   All they felt was a driving lust.  He fell on top of her, she gripped his shoulders, pulling him to her. 

They had never made love like this.  It was not love.  It was…something else.  A force inside, shoving them.

Lust, on Mars.

Newman watched, stroking himself, on his TV.  The hidden cameras installed last week were fine.  He’d told the police cameras were needed should Shallot return home or Madeline visit.  By now, all key people working against him were under police surveillance.  Recording something illegal would be a boost for him.

Shallot’s NPG told her the NPGs were concerned.  Two weeks ago, a few of them began behaving oddly.  Being interested in sex.  The NPGs understood sex technically, but they had never been physical, in any sense.  Concerned, they pooled their information and concluded Newman was behind the problem.  He was influencing colonists, pumping up their libidos.  As the colonists went, so went the NPGs. 

We feel helpless.

Won’t that jerk ever give up? Shallot typed. 

Nan didn’t answer her phone, so she texted her.  Then Shallot spoke with NPG Nan, who told her she was retiring from politics–after Newman was dealt with.  She now felt she’d taken her life’s work in the wrong direction.  She wanted out.  Shallot slowly lowered the lid of her notebook, putting it to sleep. 

George would enter the room soon.  There had been last night, this morning, then this afternoon.  She was enjoying it more, at least getting used to it.  The heaviness.  The lurching.  The panting in her ear.  His being with her but at the same time being somewhere else. 

He initiated.  Each time.  When he wanted.  Now, after he came, he tried making her come as well.  He told her it was advice from the plants.  They wanted her happy.

She felt embarrassed.  Trapped.  He should sleep somewhere else. 

She couldn’t, wouldn’t hurt his feelings.  Her feelings for him had grown strong.  At the same time, she resented him.  Him and his needs.  Using her.  It never felt like making love.  Shallot needed space, to think it through.  No, to adjust.  She understood some of this was normal.  She was still at her desk, notebook closed, when he entered. 

“Hey.  How are you,” he asked, smiling, starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Kind of tired, actually.” 

“I’m not.  Today’s been good.” 

“How so?”

“The plants encourage me to learn.  Grow.  I’ve been improving.  But I need a break.  It’s so, uh, ethereal.”  He approached her.  “And for a few days, physical.  The plants say you need the attention.  You’re upset with me.”

“I have a headache.”

“So?”

“Really.  I feel sick.  I could throw up.  All over us.”

That stopped him.  “Seriously?”  She nodded.  “Gross.” 

“It may be nothing.  Something I ate.  Or a cold or flu.  Ugh.  Think I’m going to chuck up.”  She put her hand to her mouth and her cheeks bulged.

He backed away, hands still on his shirt.  “Crap.  I’m sorry.  I don’t want to catch anything.”

“Maybe you should speak to Cary.  About getting your own room.  There’s a good room a few doors down.  Before you’re infected.  It would only be for a week or two.” 

He was backing out of the room.  “Yeah yeah.  I’ll talk to him now.  I’m sorry you’re not feeling good.  Try not to puke.” 

He closed the door behind him and she sighed, relieved.  Then listened.  It was quiet.  She hoped he would not bother Katie—if he did, she’d tell him to drop dead.  She hoped.  She returned to the game.  She found the Plant NPG.  What are you and George talking about? 

Life.  Success.  He grows strong.  We are proud. 

Why is he so horny? 

The plants inside him.  It is a unique experience for them.  They enjoy it.  It is quite unlike how we are fertilized. 

She sat back.  Great.  Will it stop?  Any time soon?

Yes.  Soon.  George’s interest is not in physical acts.  A balance with his plants is already in progress.

She took a risk.  He seems to only pretend about us.  As a couple.  Can you help him to be more involved with me?  To be part of me?  To care for me? 

We are pledged not to interfere.  We have done so only once, when the colonists visited.  He insisted it was minor and for their own good.  But, as for caring about you, he must do that himself.  We do wish you luck, Shallot. 

As for lust, what should you do?  We have heard about it but do not understand it. 

Indeed, we feel no overpowering urges. 

Indeed, we do not feel, as you know it.

So, as for lust, good luck.

41

Lubricated 

Work on the outside water pipe was nearly done, more slowly than planned but the overriding need pushed workers.  Otherwise, the colony had staggered to a near halt.  Water and power remained at half strength, at times none at all.  Couples fought, stayed together, broke up, got back together, just quit.  Few had their minds on work, and at work were distracted by the obvious lust surrounding them, everywhere.  No one spoke of why, they were too distracted, too self-involved.  The lure of physical pleasure was exhilarating.  Many colonists felt freed from the daily disasters.  Liberated.

Lubricated.

It was a small community.  Affected colonists unwittingly influenced the unaffected, heightened libidos spreading like a disease.  Young or old was irrelevant, though the older colonists felt a welcome return to yearned-for youth; unfortunately, during lustful encounters several very old colonists died from exertion.  Several others were hospitalized.  Many of the infected began to lose weight.  No one bothered with daily exercise at work, there were more indulgent physical actions to burn calories with.

Why not?    

The streets were not as clean but almost acceptable.  There were less workers underground or on the interior of the dome, but an almost acceptable amount.  The work they did was distracted, often having to be redone.  Repairs on the water pipes were taking longer, which everyone decided was almost acceptable.  Because many colonists’ minds were elsewhere and those who protested were ignored.

Acceptable was not new.  The first colonists had to decide what was acceptable in their artificial environment.  What was acceptable then was reasonable.  The colony’s main needs—additional resources of all kinds—were met for the first hundred years, as planned, from Earth.  Even the billionaire who funded the colony never believed it would manage to be completely independent.  After Earth’s imports dried up, acceptable increased the colony’s problems.  The colony managed, as compromises began to be increasingly made.  What was acceptable continued to be, more so. 

Every key decision was acceptable.  A compromise.  Step by step, it made sense.  Sense seasoned with hope. 

The NPGs previously, duplicating the lives of players, never thought about the future.  Shallot’s NPG told her everything, including that she spoke regularly with the Plant NPGs.  Like the plants, the NPGs had no choice but to follow a life they were born into.  The NPGs never cared before.  They had never really cared about anything.  Until the game was changed. 

They knew the colony had stalled and had many discussions about what they could do.  Madeline’s NPG suggested to her a drug, something put in the water.  A de-arousal drug.  The NPGs had developed one and gave her the formula. 

Madeline sat at the desk in her bedroom, in the game, reading.  Sally lay on the bed behind her, gently snoring.  Madeline smiled.  Sally had lovely, light snores.  With cute little gasps.  Had she seen a doctor about CPAP?

She smiled again.  What she now had with Sally had nothing to do with Newman.  It was all theirs and had taken its own sweet time.  She was so glad she’d dumped Mike. With Sally, it felt real, genuine.  But a lot had changed around them.  They made love but not every day, not all the time.  Not like some colonists who had morphed into human bunnies. 

Madeline considered her NPG’s suggestion.  She knew they were relying on her.  Still, drugging the colony’s water supply was a huge step.  Not just whether it would work.  Whether anyone had the right.  She and Sally had long, inconclusive discussions.  Pros.  Cons.  Madeline not only saw mostly cons, she already had decided to follow a different path.  A path that did not include imposing her will on others.  As she had spent her misguided career doing. 

No, drugging the colonists without their deciding it themselves was a no go.  What was a go was giving them the information so they had a decision to make.  She let her NPG know and asked for advice.  Then she sat back, idly scratching an itch.  The police did not have evidence to arrest Newman, despite the surveillance.  Only remarkable coincidences.  Madeline asked her NPG to think about how Newman could be exposed, tripped up.

Free speech means anyone should be allowed a voice.   Voters are smart but can be misled.  Less, she thought, in a village like the colony.  The problem was worse when the population was in the millions and people only knew politicians through TV ads.  Countries could be swept into madness.  History proved that. 

It also proved that the colony, only four hundred people, could be different. 

How could she encourage the colonists to agree to drug themselves when it meant stopping their orgasms?  Stifling everyone’s libido?  It was so…personal.  She sighed.  This would take more thought than she felt like.  She was tired.  It had been a long day.  She returned to the bed and the sleeping Sally for a long cuddle before drifting into a troubled, unsatisfying sleep.    

Shallot lay awake.  She heard George snore, a few doors down.  Through the wooden walls.  She left her room quietly.  His snoring was louder.  Katie’s door was closed.  She left the barn and walked into the night. 

Unlike before, there were no overnight workers on the inside of the dome, nor farmers working the fields.  She did see a few workers outside, on the new water pipe, reaching along the dome to its top.  She knew of the plan and saw in it hope.  She returned to her room feeling better, but shut the door behind her, slipped under the sheet and blanket.  She left the light on, weary, drifting into sleep.  She did not want to be in the dark.

Sex?  Tonight she was thankful to be alone.

42

Sex: Question Or Answer?

“Something weird’s going on,” Wendy said as they lay in bed.  “Our relief never showed up and we found them in the change room, well, humping.  They’re both in long term relationships– with someone else.  Only the water pipe outside the dome is close to being finished.  Water could start running up it by late tonight.” 

“It was gross,” Peter agreed.  “And yeah, lately it’s been very weird,’ Peter added.  “No one themselves.  Obsessed.  …Speaking of that, should we tell anyone about us?  The new three of us?  Your folks and mine?  Friends?”

“We’re not even sure.”  She shook her head.  “Too early.  Bad luck.” 

“Names?”

“Too early.  Bad luck.”

“Is there anything we can do that’s on time and good luck?” he asked, shifting in bed.  She hugged him.  “Don’t know if I should say this.  Now that we’re here.  But, maybe, is this the best time?  It isn’t too late to rethink.”

She kissed him.  “We need new life to survive.  It’s up to us to create the future, Petey.” 

“I’m with you.  Feel like making another one?  The future needs as much help as we can give it.”

“Clock.” 

“We have two hours before our next shift.”

“Let’s get out of here, big boy.”

They reluctantly left the bed, dressed, walked, trying to clear their heads.  As they looked up, imagined the dome clear, unscarred, the Martian sun unusually bright.  At least the air tasted better, now that Smelter production was down.  It was less crowded outside, these days colonists were mostly indoors, indulging themselves.  The walk was pleasant. 

“This is lovely,” he said.

“It isn’t lovely at all.  Hon, we have to do something.  Our shift is a couple of hours away.  We have time.  We need to do something–now.”

They got on their phones, walked back home and within half an hour six colleagues turned up, all shy, awkward as they settled into the small living room.  They looked at each other, uncertain how to begin.  Embarrassed. 

“There’s practically no one working on the dome and nowhere else right now,” Wendy finally said.  “We all know work has slowed to a crawl.  And we all have a good idea why.” 

“Yeah,” one man said.  “A lot of men have hard-ons.”  

“Women are full of lust,” a woman added.

“Everyone’s gone nuts,” one man muttered. 

“All they think about is sex,” a woman said to them.  “They come on to me all the time.”

“It’s a carnival,” another agreed.  “A merry go round, everyone grabbing for the brass ring.”

“I’ve had calls from the former Mayor,” Wendy told them.  “They’re trying to form small groups to deal with this.  To get us back on track.  No one knows yet how.” 

“We’ve been derailed,” Peter added.  “The obvious conclusion is either drugs in the water or some kind of mind control.  Me, I vote telepathy.  My first thought was, the plants.  But there’s no reason for them to do this.  I vote colonist.”

Wendy looked at all of them.  “We think it’s one of us.  Not us, but someone central.  With the ability to be around colonists without them suspecting.”  They listened.  “A colonist who has the plant’s powers somehow.  Remember, we live on Mars.”

“Until we figure out who,” Peter told them, “we first have to be careful about being near anyone we’re not dead certain about.  This distracting influence must stop.” 

“I should be direct.  The Mayor thinks it’s Newman,” Wendy told them.  No time for secrets.  “It isn’t only rumours.  The police are building a case.  Avoid him.  Don’t go near him.  And be careful around anyone who’s been alone with him.” 

“We need to work double hard,” one of the men said.  “To make up for the others.  Until it’s  fixed.” 

“Fixed?” one of the men asked.  “How the hell can this be fixed?”

“We’re open to ideas!” Wendy and Peter blurted out together. 

The team laughed.

Madeline sat at a large table in Water.  Seated around the table with the workers’ representatives who now formed the government.  She had first met each individually, privately, about the situation.  Now a few hours had gone by, enough for them to think.  She noted there was no longer a larger chair for the ‘leader.’  All the chairs around the table were the same. 

Madeline smiled at that. 

By mutual agreement, she was the informal chair—she’d called the meeting.  Everyone settled, she tapped on the table.  “We all know why this meeting was called.  I don’t think we need to go around the table to know that production has fallen dramatically over the past two weeks.  And it’s getting worse.  And that the cause, for a significant number of colonists is…well…they’re aroused.  Very…aroused.  Not everyone, to be sure.  But enough.” 

Everyone nodded. 

“We believe,” Madeline continued, “the cause is a colonist who has plants inside him.  He, or she, ingested seeds.  Now the plants are fully developed.  I know of another colonist this happened to. 

“He has powers.  To influence us.  The only motive in disrupting the colony, now that you are in charge of it, is to undermine you.  To undermine the groups of workers.  We are not sure, the police are working on it, but, frankly, we believe it’s former Councillor Newman.  I’ve reviewed the evidence with each of you. 

“So problem one is, him.  Problem two is what he’s done.  We must turn around the colonists he’s affected.  While we’re screwing each other, he’s screwing us.”  She paused, seeing their faces.  “Padon my English.

“The game’s NPGs have suggested a drug, to put into the water.  To reduce libidos.  They provided the formula.  The drug will, well, calm everyone down.  We then can work to restore normal.”

“Drug the water?” a woman asked.  “For everyone?”

Madeline nodded. 

“That sounds like something Newman would do,” the woman continued.  “I can’ t agree to drugging the whole colony.”

“There’s no way to drug individuals,” Madeline replied.  She could see the representatives around the table shifting, their eyes on her.  “You’re right.  I agree.  Does anyone have a better idea?”

No one did. 

“We should tell the colonists about the drug,” the woman said after a long silence.  “Put it to a vote.  A colony referendum.  We’ve never had one before but why not?  It affects all of us, all of us should decide.” 

“A referendum,” another said.  “Agreed.”

“Soon,” another added.  “How about informing everyone today, allowing three days, then a vote?” 

“The water isn’t flowing,” Wendy told them.  “How about two days?  By the way, the outside pipe is complete.  Water starts up it in an hour.”

“How about we announce today,” Madeline told them, leg aching, “and vote tomorrow evening?  And include something that calls for a second vote if this is too fast?”

Quick agreement around the table.  After the others left, Wendy stayed.  Sally, seeing Wendy’s look, left them alone. 

Wendy asked about Madeline’s experience being pregnant.

Newman stroked himself looking out the window at the colony.  He wondered how many of them were stroking themselves, not working.  He’d heard about relationships breaking up, some growing stronger.  Arousing them was so arousing. 

They were falling apart.  He would be the one they must turn to, to put the colony right.  The dome would continue to be a problem, he was convinced.  Water would always be a problem, until he could fix it.  The colony needed him.  To make Mars great again.  To make himself great again. 

He could use help to make himself someone great who needed no help. 

George was the obvious choice but demanded the barn.  No way.  He’d love to see Shallot and find out what she knew.  But he was in the barn, with George and the plants.  And he doubted Madeline or Marjorie would meet with him, not now, not when they knew about him. 

He wished he could enter the game and strangle an NPG.  Maybe he should go to the Farm, see George.  He might even help with the plants—George was human.

Something was wrong. 

He looked down. 

Limp.    

He was shaken.  Never before had he gone limp.  Never. 

He stumbled away from the window, slumped into the nearest armchair.  An ominous omen.  Newman believed in omens.  He slumped farther into the armchair. 

He went from stroking himself to feeling dead inside.

43

“Drop dead.  You don’t care about me.  Or Shallot.  Just yourself.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I know exactly what I mean.” 

George blocked the doorway, leaning against it.  Katie stood in the room, a small, packed bag next to her, hand resting on it, gripping the handle. 

“So you’re what, going home?” he asked.  “Didn’t you try already?  Think that’ll really work this time?”

“We talked on the phone.  They were both crying.  They want me home.”

“I beet.”

“At least I won’t feel your leering eyes.  You’re a jerk.” 

“C’mon, I haven’t hit on you.”

“Must have killed you.”  She picked up the bag.  “You have no interest in your parents?  In seeing them?”

“They haven’t come to see me, have they?” 

She took a step forward.  “You’re blocking the door.” 

“You’re different than Shallot.  You have plants.  I want you here.  I know I can’t force you.  Please?”

“You’re only interested in yourself.  Drop dead.”

He retreated, backing away.  “Sorry you feel this way.”

“I bet.”  Katie walked past him, out of the room, out of this damn barn.  “Stay away from Shallot,” she told him as she opened the front door.  “The plants don’t like how you treat her.  They like her.  You, not so much.  They think you have a lot to learn.”

“Oh really.”  He watched her stand in the doorway, much as he had stood in her doorway moments earlier.  “That’s it?  Ever think you have me wrong?”

She closed the door behind her. 

He knew she was sixteen but had hoped she would be more adult.  As for him, the seeds enjoyed sex as much as walking.  Why deny them?  He was sixteen.  Was not lust natural?  Perhaps not so much for Katie or Shallot or many of the Farmers.  But George accepted he was now different.  The same but different. 

Her parents were waiting.  Home was waiting.  She gripped the bag, picking up her stride.  Being home was important.  She was sick of living in a tiny room in a barn.  Away from mom and dad.  Away from her friends, except Shallot.  She couldn’t stand being so isolated any longer.  She refused to deny her family or for them to deny her.  Marjorie had visited her parents and somehow done something.  She hoped she had kept her word about not changing them.  She needed mom and dad as themselves. 

She met Cary at the front gate, waiting in a cart.  She was happy to accept the ride.  It would get her back home faster. 

She wanted her room.  Her stuffed animals.  Her bed.  Her little desk and the cushion on the desk chair, a stitched small pillow with a cat’s face.  Mom baking sweets, Dad watching Marsball replays on TV.  Katie smiled at the warm thoughts. 

As she walked, she looked up.  Thick ice covered half the dome.  There must be someone on top, directing the spray so it was even.  Some holes had burst open in the dome pipe.  Not only did they not seriously affect the water pressure, the leaks further coated the dome.  In an hour, she’d been told, the entire dome would be covered with two feet of solid thick ice.

She was now halfway home. 

Soon she’d be in her old neighbourhood.  Katie did not expect to see many people, given what she’d heard about the increasing self-involvement—well, sex—of many colonists, including many of her friends.  She thought she would vote ‘for’ in the referendum.  If anywhere on Mars drugs were needed, it was here. 

Few of them had been promiscuous… before.   While Cary drove them, she spoke briefly with Shallot but the others did not respond.  Even in the game their NPGs were at fumbling at work or screwing around there or at home, a few times in a park. 

She did not care.  She loved her friends but getting home, recovering her life—that was her priority.  Although ice covering the dome, still letting through diffused light, was comforting.  Which was good because as they drew closer, she grew tense.  Unsure of what would happen, this time.

Her house looked the same.  She felt a wonderful rush, encountering the familiar, the fundamentally familiar.  She opened the unlocked front door and walked in, worried yet hopeful. 

It was quiet downstairs.  Hadn’t her parents expected her?  Maybe they had gone out?  No, she smelled baking.  She went upstairs, opened her bedroom door and her parents shouted “Surprise!” 

Balloons.  They wore hats.  And big smiles. 

Their smiles were genuine.  She stepped towards her mom, who rushed to take her into her arms.  They held each other along time.  Her father watched—she was reassured her family was back to normal. 

“I’m so sorry, dear,” mom told her.  “We were frightened.” 

“Yeah,” her father added.  “But Marjorie visited and talked about the plants inside her.  She’s quite nice.  We came to realize you did something to us, hon, but you panicked.  You just wanted us to love you.  We do.”

Her mother added, “We understand.  It must be so hard for you.”

“We’ve talked with the neighbours.  They understand better, now.”

“Yes,” her mother added.  “Newman.  He is not a good person.  He did something to your father and me.  It was like we were his puppets.”

“He ain’t pulling our strings no more,” her father told her, patting both their shoulders now.

They went downstairs to the kitchen and sat at the table.  Mom took the cookies out of the oven and put them on a plate in front of Katie.  Her favourite cookies.  Even the smell was warming, comforting, delicious.  She looked at them as they cooled.  It had been weeks since she’d eaten mom’s food. 

They had no idea how Katie’s friends were doing, rarely saw them before, never now.  Her father noted there was a lot of sex around them these days, and no one seemed interested in birth control.  Or couldn’t be bothered.  He was angry about it.  So was her mom.    

“Although we have been snuggling more,” her mother said.  “What about you, hon?”

“No snuggling, mom,” Katie replied.  “Shallot’s having snuggling problems, too.”

After the cookie dinner, they went into the living room and watched the news on TV, then a movie.  Before, after dinner, Katie retreated to her bedroom or fled outside.  Now she sat happily with them.  The past was past.  She was in the now.  She felt so good.  Her parents were definitely themselves.  She sensed no influences on them, when she probed as they watched TV.  They were genuinely upset they had rejected her.  Nothing clouded their minds. 

She relaxed.  Who said you can’t go home again?  Probably someone hundreds of years ago, on Earth.

Slowly, shortly after the movie began, Katie realized how bored she was.  How she had occasionally daydreamed about running away.

It did not matter in this moment.  These days, being bored was good.  No pressure, no threats, no expectations.  Just enjoy the food and TV. 

Halfway through the movie, she hugged them both and retreated to her bedroom.  Opened her notebook.  Picked up her phone.  Texted her friends.  Talked with her NPG, who was now also in her bedroom, notebook on her lap.  Now she felt totally herself, totally at home. 

Knock on her door.  Her mother entered, gave her a mug of hot chocolate, a couple of Fizz pills, smiled and closed the door behind her. 

My parents can be pretty cool, sometimes, she typed.

One of Katie’s friends texted back, to see her.  So did all of her old friends.  In half an hour, they were in her bedroom.  With cups of hot chocolate provided by her mom.  The girls brought their own Fizz. 

They pummelled her with questions about the plants inside her.  No problem.  Katie realized they wanted to know, needed to know, they were concerned about her, themselves.  She talked about the two plants inside her.  How it felt, what she had learned, how it affected her sense of self—calmer.  Telling them, one day they might host a plant.  They all got high taking Fizz hits, talking about plants and Mars and, quickly, about relationships. 

There was a lot of giggling.  It became a party and went into the night.  Mom only knocked and came in once, to ask if they wanted more hot chocolate and cookies.  The girls laughed hysterically, slapping their thighs.  Mom looked puzzled but smiled and left. 

Shallot’s great grandfather sat in his living room with his team.  Two friends he was close to had died in the last week, from natural causes doing unnatural things.  No one he knew felt good.  Something had to be done.  It was no longer time for theories and watching.  He told them he had to get of his butt. 

They all believed Newman was involved.  That he probably had plants inside him, despite the Clinic’s report clearing him.  No one believed Newman would stop—the public needed to know.  He had to be disgraced, as he deserved, isolated. 

Shallot’s great grandfather said he’d already made inroads to trustworthy Clinic personnel.  The Clinic’s official position was there was no hidden record.  If they could prove Newman had plants inside him, that might be enough to turn the colonists against him.  Or at least think carefully about him.  And, an hour ago, his secret source within the Clinic had finally provided him with the original reports on Newman.  Confirming he had three plants growing inside him. 

He would set up a press conference tomorrow morning, ostensibly about the controversies over the game.  Now he had what he needed to go public. 

After they left, he felt not energized but weak.  There was always the potential for someone such as Newman.  But it did not have to come.  He should have prevented it.  Hindsight.  Hindsight can be kind of stupid, like slapping yourself.  He cursed hindsight.  But he did deserve punishment.  Too aloof.  Too slow to act.  You cannot always simply sit and watch. 

Shallot hoped she had not acted too late.  George had been provided his own room by Cary and seemed happy there.  Happier being on his own.  Good.  She needed some distance from him.  Distant but not too far. 

Bored being by herself, though.  Bored staying in the barn, her only real communications through the game.  Even the game, her NPG, felt distant—living in another world.  Well, they were, but still. 

She abruptly stood, walked out of her room and out of the barn.

Despite the ice coating the dome, it was brighter.  Almost like being outside. 

Cary saw her and walked up, asking if she was okay.  She told him better than before.  He looked at her walk off, then slowly followed her, from a distance, worried about her.   She walked into the fields, into the new lights, enjoying the warmth.  He saw her simply stand for a while among the crops, holding her hands up and out.  Enjoying the space and air.

He decided to let her be. 

After the cleansing warmth, Shallot walked to the administration building where Farha had an office.  Empty.  Farha’s notebook was open and running, in the game, with a pop-up window on the Farm.  A toilet flushed down the hall.  Shallot pulled up a chair.  Farha walked in and stopped.  Pleased.  “You’ve finally emerged.  How was the cocoon?”

“I’m faking a cold.  He thinks I’m sick, so he’s stopped grabbing me all the time.  Although I like the grabbing.  I like him.  He’s complicated.  A project.  He spends most of his time with them, the plants.  I can’t hear them talk, it’s creepy.” 

“Thank God,” Farha told her.  “I’m so tired of everyone being aroused all the time.  It’s even hit some of the staff here.  Big pain.  Except one guy, Eric in fertilizer.  He’s hot.  We hook up but I’ve kept it to every few days.”

“Is he…influenced?”

Farha smiled.  “Nope, he’s really into me.  We even talk.” 

They held hands.    

“What’s it like?” Shallot asked. 

“Like nothing before.  He’s sweet.  And strong.  And not a jerk.  He likes blowing in my ear.  Tickles.” 

Shallot shared her confusing feelings about George.

“He’s basically a good guy, just going through changes.  He was always self-involved.” 

“So what should I do?” Shallot asked.  “I’m tired of being in the barn, talking with NPGs.  Could we get some of our friends here?” 

They chatted a while longer, then left Farha’s office and the building.  Shallot felt better outside.  Farha chatted as they walked to the fertilizer building, into it and up to a short, dark haired man, almost eighteen.  He gave Farha a hug, then turned to Shallot and introduced himself—Eric. 

The three stood near the fertilizer vats. 

Shallot liked Eric right away.  He seemed super quiet, not aggressive.  Or maybe he was, in a different way, but Farha’s eyes certainly stayed on him.  They seemed so affectionate.  George could be affectionate.  All it would take would be some work.  Looking at them, she thought There’s so much potential.  They’re happy.  I can be happy with George

Shallot left Farha and Eric to cuddle standing up, returning to her barn.  To George.  What the hell.  She had to get a grip on her life.  And right now her life centred on him. 

He was not with the plants, in her room or Katie’s abandoned room.  She found him in his new room.  She had avoided it.  Now she saw him at his desk, typing on his notebook.  She saw posters on the walls—of Mars, of the plants, one of City Hall.  She saw a photo of her on a wall, by itself.  Her heart literally fluttered. 

He was concentrating, typing.  She stayed in the doorway, could not see his monitor, but he was not in the game.  It looked like he was typing a list, notes.  She looked fondly at him.  He was dedicated.  Working so hard.  People like George would help the colony recover.   

She stood in the doorway a long time, watching, before he finally noticed her. 

Then she gave herself to him. 

Lust, On Mars Chapters 24-35

24

Power Play

Before and during the last chapter, there was the early morning emergency Council meeting–the follow up to yesterday’s meeting; for the Councillors it led nowhere, for Newman it led to the final set-up before achieving power.  Newman felt huge that morning.  Powerful.  A guiding light.  He saw clear wonderful daylight through the dome.  Today, the world would be his.  Mars would be his.  At least until he could escape this forsaken planet.  Today, his plans would climax and, so to speak, would he. 

He stood outside the boardroom, watching the other Councillors file in, tapping into minds, checking his hold on them.  Through the open doorway he saw Madeline already in her chair.  No one used the word “Mayor” these days.  She accepted her coordinating meetings.  Treading water.  Martian water. 

He smiled, standing in the foyer, his aide by his side.  Madeline must know she was on a slippery slope.  About to slip slide to the bottom.  Revenge would be sweet.  He never tried to influence her.  Not yet.  He wanted her as she was.  The only Council member he had not influenced was Marjorie, but she was focussed on building escape ships.  Escape.  From Mars to Earth.  Who cared what the water was like there?

“In my office, waiting?” he asked over his shoulder.

“All of them,” his aide replied.

“Excellent.  Big day, Jim.  Great day.”

Jim, the first influenced, smiled supportively.  He avoided patting Newman on the back, though.  His boss did not like being touched. 

Madeline watched Marjorie, the last Councillor, walking by Newman with a nod.  He stood in the doorway.  She took her usual chair, aide behind her, as Sally and Mike stood behind Madeline.  They shared a smile.  The other Councillors were icy.  Icy.  To Madeline, it felt icy.  She wanted to leave but had to remain.  This was her role, as long as it lasted.  Standing behind her, Sally gently patted Madeline’s shoulder, then stepped back.

When everyone was seated, Madeline watched Newman walk in, his stride quietly determined.  Confident, not overdoing it.   

He stopped, standing by his chair, and looked at the Councillors.  He shook his head. 

“Thank you for coming,” he told them all.  “You should know the latest.  We are on the verge of another power and water shutdown.  When the water stops, because of repair work, our steam plant also will stop.  And I must tell you that the Smelter workers are overwhelmed with uncoordinated production demands.  The air filters on the stacks are overloaded.  Even more immediate, we have run out of sealant for the dome.

“You all know me,” he replied.  “Know what I stand for.  Stability.  Strength.  Order from chaos.  We can make Mars great again, if we work together.  But we must adapt.  Change.  Become something greater than this Council.”

Dramatic pause. 

“And?” Madeline asked, still sitting in the Mayor’s chair, assuming now for only minutes more.

“To illustrate, to help, I have invited additional colonists to attend this meeting.”  He nodded to Jim, who waved to people standing outside.  Four men and women filed into the boardroom, nodding to the Councillors.  “To achieve any goals, we need to have actual workers on this Council.  These men and women represent workers from the Smelter, Water, Dome and Medical and Police Services.  I suggest we vote to accept them as additional Councillors.  Instead of disbanding Council, as has been suggested, we broaden it.”

Newman looked confidently at the Councillors.  With the exceptions of Madeline and Marjorie, all raised their hands in agreement.  Chairs were pulled up for the new Councillors, who sat in them, the other Councillors making room around the table. 

“Uh, no election?” Madeline asked.  “Is that in the bylaws?”

“They were appointed by their worker’s groups,” Newman told her.  Informed her.  “This is an emergency situation.”  Still standing, he looked at them all.  “First, let’s hear a report from Smelter, as of this morning.” 

“I represent the interests of the Smelter workers,” Antonio told them.  He seemed just slightly hesitant.

“Of course,” Newman replied.  “Go ahead.  Production report, yes?”

“Yes.  We are making progress on substitute ingredients for the sealant.  Those are efforts for our scientists, and do not yet disrupt production although they divert some resources.  We expect to be able to produce a replacement sealant soon, which would affect production.  The new sealant will not be as durable.  The iron pulleys for the dome workers have been completed.  Metal production is now centred on new water piping.”  He stopped.  Appeared to relax.

“Thank you,” Newman told her.  “Dome?”

Another of the new Councillors, a man, spoke up.  He also seemed stiff.  “As he said, we are able to continue work on repairing the dome.  But we are running out of sealant.”  He stopped, appeared to relax.

“Water?”

One of the men stiffened, also a bit distant.  “We are able to avoid complete water failure.  But there were problems, and as of this morning we are back to half flow.  That gives the steam plant less power.  It will be weeks, completing pipe repairs.  If our workers hold out.  They’re under a lot of stress, like the Dome and other workers.  Especially these days, now that we are receiving fresh new pipes and larger patches.”  He stopped, appearing to relax.  His fingers on the table were stiff.

Newman did not bother to say thank you to any of them.  He looked at the last new Councillor, a woman.  “Tilda?”

“Thank you,” she said, also barely this side of mechanical.  “I represent, basically, all the service workers.  Police are concentrating on completing their investigation into the murders.  The suspect, the Mayor’s former aide, remains in custody.  Evidence to date is that he is guilty.  Medical services report many colonists are stressed and receiving the appropriate medications.” 

Newman looked at the people seated around the table.  “Good.  If I can put it that way.  So how do we proceed?  What new initiatives?  Two ways.  Smelter production must increase.  We will agree to that.  To prevent worse air pollution, a hole must be cut into the dome, to vent smoke from the Smelter into Mars directly.”  Murmurs.  Agreeing murmurs.    

“Second, there’s the Mayor’s aide.  We all know Mike.  He’s been arrested and although the information is confusing, he’s a confessed murder.  He was her aide for years.  Her judgement is clearly even more questionable.  She has become an embarrassment.” 

“The police say he’s confessed,” Madeline said firmly, knowing she had already lost.  “It’s despicable.  But he agrees he killed the woman, but only in the game.” 

“Yes, he agrees he killed in the game, not in the colony.  Uh huh.  His DNA was on her neck.  Your Mike needs to stay in jail until we sort this out,” Newman told her, holding his ground. “The game itself may have to be shut down if we do not find a final solution. 

“Weakness is no longer an option, Councillors.  Mars was great.  It will be great again.  Under our leadership.” 

“Mars is already great,” Marjorie spoke up.  “And changes have been made to the game.  Violence there is no longer possible.  The NPGs tell me there is unusual control outside the game.  From a colonist.  One of us.  They think one of us has become telepathic.  Trying to control minds, to create its own reality.”  She had not brought out her knitting.    

Newman glared only briefly.  “Then we hunt the son of a bitch down.  There’s no room here for mutants.  Or miscreants.”   He strode to near Madeline.  “But we should not be diverted.  The Mayor here has shown poor judgement in her staff, in her leadership.  We are in this mess because of her.  She needs to step aside, for everyone’s good.  I will replace her, in the new position of Chair of the Council.  Only to help keep us organized and provide what leadership I can.  That, at this point, only I can.”

Marjorie and Madeline sat still.  Several other Councillors twitched, though smiling.  In the end, all but Madeline and Marjorie raised their hands, avoiding looking at Madeline. 

Newman smiled at her.  “I should sit here now.  You were elected as Mayor, not a Councillor.  There is no longer a role for you at our table.  You may leave.”  He smiled, revenge was so sweet.  “Thank you for your service.” 

There was nothing to say.  Madeline calmly stared at him until he was done, looked at the other Councillors and stood, trying to understand why a majority supported someone they all believed to be a jerk.  It sure was not the blonde hair, nice clothing.  She already had a good idea why.  But there was no point speaking on that here.  They would not listen.  Saying anything would only be her ego talking.  Her ego had already created enough problems. 

She stood, nodded to Newman, to the Councillors, to Marjorie, then silently walked out of the room, looking briefly at Sally, leaving her behind, to be her eyes and ears.  She doubted Newman would allow Sally to stay long, but the sight of her isolated would be a good distraction for him. 

She heard the door close solidly behind her. 

Striding out of City Hall, she headed straight for her father.  She wanted to talk with Sally but that was not possible.  Her father was her next best choice.  She found him in his backyard garden, pruning a rosebush.  Suddenly the words burst out as he stopped pruning, startled.  She told him what had just occurred.  And her growing conviction that support for Newman taking over was wrong.  He fed the Council litres of false hope and they drank it in, thirsty. 

But it was more than that.  His influence was unnatural. 

When she finished, took a breath and started to relax, sitting in the nearest hair, he straightened and put down the shears.  “Computer said an hour ago it’s 95% probable Newman manipulated Mike into killing Phyllis,” her father replied, straightening, putting down the pruning sheers.  “Revenge against you, probably.  Politically useful.  Plus he seeks thrills.  We’ve done research and everything zeroes down to him. No one else has popped up.”

“Ugh.”  She’d hoped the fantastic was not possible.  “He has telepathic powers?  Like the plants?”

“Remember Jamison, a few months ago?” he continued.  “Suicide?  Newman hated him.  Newman took two weeks off Council a few months ago, said he was sick.  He was infected and knew it.  I’ve seen his blood tests, the hidden ones.  He returned to Council.  Odd, apparently unrelated events began.  Never noticed them until we searched.  Jamison killed himself three weeks later.  Newman has some type of power, he’s used it for some time, and now he’s grown stronger we believe.” 

“So what do I do?  We do?  I do?”  Madeline leaned back.  “He seems to control key people.”

“Can’t prove it.  Yet,” he replied.  “He’s under surveillance.  Police I trust, who have not been corrupted.  By the way, avoid the Chief.”

“Waiting is a lousy option,” she spat out.  “It’s already gotten ugly.  His lust for power must be controlled.  Even if I have to shove it straight up his butt.” 

“I appreciate this is very…personal.  Still, eloquently put.  What can you do now?  Sounds like he’s already in control.  With a base he has created.” 

“Tranquilizer darts?”  

They shared a bitter laugh. 

“Seriously, dad.  Our social fabric is suffering more cracks than the dome.  Newman divides, he doesn’t unite.  He’s playing people against each other.  Who knows his real goal?  It can’t be good and I can’t sit and watch.”  She in fact stood. 

“Be patient.” 

“I understand, but the longer Newman runs free, the tougher it becomes.” 

“Be patient.  You aren’t alone in this.  Many of us will fight to keep the colony stable.”

She left him as he went inside to return to his computer and phone.  She went to police headquarters.  She saw the Chief, who looked at her warily.  Instead of talking about Newman, she asked for an update.  He gave her the briefest of briefings.  She left his office and went to his second in command, someone she knew better, trusted as not corrupted.  Drake smiled at her when she came in, his eyes clear of suspicion.  He was one of dad’s contacts. 

Madeline felt her world growing smaller.

They agreed on the concerns.  Newman had been under surveillance for several days.  Secretly, by several trusted officers, as the Chief had turned the idea down flat.  He noted the Chief had been acting strangely for several days, and now they were watching him

“Is surveillance the best you can do?”

“What else?  Arrest him?  Given who Newman is, we need evidence.  Something hard.”

“There’s no time,” she told him.

“I understand,” he replied.  “You mean, accidents could happen?  He’ll need to inspect the outside of the dome?  And his suit will fail?”

She shook her head.  “Love it.  But nope.  We aren’t him.”  Pause.  “Right?”

He looked at her.  “Totally.” 

After she left, she phoned Shallot.  Felt it was time to see her grand daughter again.  By then, Newman had taken over her office and forced Sally out of City Hall altogether.  Sally was on the way over.  By the time Madeline reached her apartment, Shallot waited by the front door. 

Shallot needed to do something.  So did Madeline.  They went into her apartment.  Sally phoned, asked about lunch and stopped for takeout.  Shallot brought out her notebook and they entered Mars and Me, agreeing it was a place to start.  Could they do something with Newman?  His NPG?  He did not seem to control the NPGs, only certain colonists–whose NPGs now reflected that influence.  The game’s new strict prohibitions against using NPGs for violence were working.  The NPGs felt safer, individually.  Their being murdered and regenerating could no longer happen.  They let Shallot and Madeline know they appreciated that achievement, being protected from the players (for whom the game existed.)

The morality of interfering with the colony was debated within the game.  Just like in your world, Shallot’s NPG said, suddenly we have unpleasant choices. 

At least you now have choices, Shallot typed. 

Her NPG responded Pollyanna.  Adding a smile emoji. 

Shallot looked at her Nan.  “Now what?  How are you, Nan?  Should we talk?  You’ve been through a lot, yes?”

“Thanks, onion.  Talked out,” Madeline replied.  “I have to be alone and think.  Can’t talk to anyone.  Not until I’ve scoped this all out.  If you don’t know, there’s no place right now for me at City Hall, in the government.  I’m out.”  

“I think I should talk to him,” Shallot told her. 

That shocked Madeline.  “Don’t go near him,” she said, alarmed.  “You’re under his radar, for now.  Don’t draw attention to yourself.  Don’t get near him.”  She sighed.  “What a world.  Anyway, he probably won’t see you.”

“Oh, he’ll see me,” Shallot replied, standing, finding something new only she could accomplish.  “I’m your granddaughter.  Privilege has its privileges.  Finally.”

“Don’t.” 

Shallot smiled.  “I always do what I’m told.  You helped bring me up that way.  The rules apply to everyone–but us.” 

Shallot left as Sally walked in.  As she closed the door, she saw her Nan and Sally hug each other tightly, affectionate.  Shallot smiled, walking away.  She did not want Nan to be alone, Sally was lovely.  And Mike had always been such a jerk. 

She had to move and Newman was her next step.  Then, George.

25

Gambling (Not Carefree Running In Woods)

Shallot walked through the down suburb, to City Hall, to Nan’s former office, nervous, determined.  She had to do this.  No one else could.  No one else she knew even had a shot at seeing him, at confronting him.  But he would see her.  Nan’s granddaughter.  Because he wanted to know what Nan was up to.  Probably if Nan was crying a lot.    

Newman’s aide, Jim, sat outside the office, at Sally’s former desk.  “That was fast.  What do you want?”

“What do you think?  I phoned.” Shallot told him.  “To see the big cheese.”

He smiled, picked up his phone and pressed a button.  “Madeline’s granddaughter is here.”  He listened, nodded, hung up.  “Go right in, Shallot.”  He motioned to the closed door.  “Try not to be yourself.”  She walked to the door, opened it and stepped inside.  Closed it behind her.

Newman sat at Nan’s former large desk, not hiding a smile.  The desk had papers on it, files and folders.  He turned off his computer monitor.  “Well well well.  Shallot.  Grandmom send you?”

“She knows I’m here.  Screw you.”  She walked up to the desk, stood in front of it, uncomfortable sitting though he nodded to a chair.  She should not stay long.  “You’re messing with colonists.  With their minds.  Admit it.”

“Ah.  Directness.  Almost honesty.  How refreshing.  …you know, kid, coming here’s a gamble.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Why would I threaten you?  I lead the colony and your grandmother’s washing dishes somewhere.”   He shifted in the chair, relaxed, looking at her.  “She wants to know what I’m up to?  That why you’re here?”

“We both do.” 

“Sorry, no secrets.  I will repair the dome and water pipes. I will slow the pollution.  Those are my immediate goals.  Those can be accomplished, with proper leadership.  I will make Mars great again.” 

“How about an escape ship to Earth?  When you have one built, you escape?  Take off?  And you dump us?”

“Ah.  You want secrets?”  He smiled, hand now fiddling with a file.  A nail file.  “Of course,” he replied.  “We don’t have a future here.  But even one escape rocket is a huge project.  Take years.  Until then we must thrive or it won’t be built,” he told her.  “Win win.  I want only the best for the colony.” 

He paused, waited for her to say something.  She said nothing.  “You’re suspicious.  You and your grandmother.  I’ve heard the rumours.  Mike killed that secretary.  Plenty of evidence I was in my home.  But that isn’t your big deal.”  

He stood, held out his arms.  “Think I’m telepathic?  Do I look infected?  A month ago I went to the Clinic, they examined me, took blood.  Clean bill of health.  Check it out.  Anyone can see the report.”  And he twirled around, an odd little dance, laughing to himself, holding out his arms, twirling his fingers.  “I love giving you a dance.  Want to hear a song?”

“You’re creepy,” Shallot told him, watching him start to dance around her grandmother’s former office.  “You were always creepy.  Now you’re creepier.  You said you’d be honest.” 

“I know some people find me creepy, yes.”  He stopped twirling to face her.  “No one’s perfect, kiddo.  But enough colonists now find me just swell.”  And then he continued to twirl.  “Any other questions?  I’m having a great time.  I’ll do any dance you like.”

She walked out, shutting the door behind her.  Glaring at the closed door.  Newman’s aide still sat at his desk.  She said to him, “Your boss is dancing.” 

“He’s very expressive.”

Shallot walked out of City Hall and headed for the Clinic, a few blocks away.  She was running out of time and people to talk with.  Talking with Newman was risky.  It was time for more risks.  Playing it safe had evaporated.  Now she was on Newman’s radar.  Where would that lead?  It was a gamble, pushing him.  Done.  She would not stop moving forward.  She knew where her next steps should take her.

The nurse at the front desk smiled when Shallot walked into the Clinic.  “Are you here to see the Director, about Councillor Newman’s physical?” 

“No,” Shallot replied, as pleasantly as she could manage.  “I want to see a patient.  George.” 

The nurse pointed to a door.  “Of course.  Through there.”  And smiled and returned to her work. 

Shallot quickly followed through.  That was bizarre.  Another staff person led her to the restricted hallway where George was, and told her his room number.  His room was empty.  She heard a sound, saw the open door down the hall, and found George and Katie, in her room.  George on the bed, Katie on a chair.  Both had their notebooks open.  The TV was on, news, the sound low but audible. 

George stood before Shallot entered, putting down his notebook.  Katie put hers to sleep. 

“Hey,” she said, suddenly shy, to George.  She vaguely knew Katie, from school.  “How are you?  Been thinking about you, a lot.  Took a chance coming here, didn’t think they’d let me in.”  She smiled, shy.  “You knew I was coming?” 

“Call it a good guess.  We prepared the staff.”

Katie looked at them looking at each other and stood.  “Well guys and girls, sorry but I have to get something from my room.”

“Isn’t this your room?” Shallot asked, looking only at him. 

Katie closed the door behind her. 

“Me being here.  Newman will know.  Aren’t we gambling, a lot?” Shallot took his hand in hers.  “Our last morning a few days ago was awful.  I feel awful.  Terrible, at what I did to you.”

“What did you do?” He softly took her hand. 

“Well, you know, telling you I didn’t’ want to.”

His hand on hers tightened.  “Don’t.  I was kind of crazy,” he told her, equally shy.  “Sorry about keeping it secret.  Sorry about being so, well, y’know, horny.  At the time, all I could think about was getting laid.  Sorry.  Shouldn’t put it that way.  But that’s the way it was.  That time has passed.  It’s like whatever is inside me had enough.”   

“You’re being too nice.  I could have been more understanding.  If I’d known that was your last morning, then you’ be here…well, I want you to know we should have done it.  I wanted to do it.  I’m sorry you went off that way.” 

Awkward silence.  He smiled a little, then looked into her eyes.  They shared looking a long time.

“How are you?” she finally asked.  She squeezed his hand.  “I was so worried but you look great.  You haven’t lost weight?” 

“Gained a few pounds.  You?”

“The colony’s messed up.  My world has fallen.  I’m not sure what to believe in.  My weight’s good, though.  Haven’t brushed my hair in days.”  With her other hand, she lightly touched his arm, just above his lovely, masculine wrist. 

“You’re in some danger, you know,” he told her, sounding worried.  “Newman dropped by yesterday.  To talk to Katie and me.  We were ready before he walked in.  Felt him coming.  But I figured he’d show up.”

Her shy smile vanished.  “And?”

“Our NPGs warned us.  He’s their top candidate for the murders.  Both.  So, before he walked in, we coated ourselves.  Shielded ourselves so he thought we were normal.  No threat.  And as he questioned us, we quietly got into his head enough so he believes we’re harmless.  And, Shallot, you.  He sees you now as a teen, a puppet of your grandmother, but nothing more.

“For now, anyway.  He’s smart.  And he never came back, so we can’t reinforce it.” 

“Coated?  Reinforced?”  He was rapidly feeding her a lot to digest.    

“I coated you when you walked in.  Couldn’t before, you were too far away.  Distance is important.  Closer the better.” 

“Coated?”  She felt he was on another world. 

He nodded.  “He won’t be able to get in your head and won’t be suspicious why.” 

“That was thoughtful.  Helpful.”  He smiled, accepting it all, she as still digesting.  “I saw him half an hour ago.  He was nice enough, but treated me like a joke.”

“Good.  Shallot, been thinking about you.  A lot.  Locked in here, I miss you more.” 

She took him in her arms.  They shared a long hug.  It felt wonderful, him against her.  She thought of more, feeling his warmth, much more–but saw the surveillance cameras in the ceiling. 

“I want more,” she whispered quietly.  “Now.  I do.  It isn’t making up for that other morning.  But not with them watching.  Listening.  Recording us.”

They kissed.  It was long, lingering, loving.  She felt her neck flush.  She felt warm.  She did not want the kiss to end, so they kissed again.  Just lips.  When they parted, she licked them.

They sat on the bed, a little apart.  “What do we do now?” he asked.  “What do you want to do?  That’s all that counts.”

“Talk?” she replied. 

“What do we have to say we don’t want them to hear?”  I can project my thoughts into you.  They don’t know Katie and I have powers.    They can’t hear us.  Takes real effort, you have nothing inside you.  I’ve spent the last few days developing my mind.   

They didn’t mind the Clinic hearing aloud that they agreed they had difficulty respecting their parents because of the colony choices which had created such problems.  The Clinic could hear that. 

“We were born into this,” Shallot told him and the camera.  “We deserve better.”

They ran out of small talk and looked at each other for a long while, sitting on the bed.  As awkward as her meeting half an hour ago with Newman, but so profoundly different.  After a while, Katie returned.  She looked at them.  “This is an improvement.”  She smiled and sat on the bed with them.  The three chatted harmlessly for the camera, then Shallot hugged them both and left.  It was super hard, walking away. 

We’ll see each other again.  But not too soon.  We don’t want him suspicious.

She felt his eyes on her back.  “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.  This was such fun, I’ll tell my friends you’re ok.”   

She strolled out feeling lighter. 

The day was not over and she had done a lot already.  George was alive and healthy.  She had challenged Newman, which could lead to something.  And she was…coated.  George may have bought her some time—to do what?  How could George and Katie help, isolated in the Clinic?

Her parents were focused on their own issues.  To a lesser extent, so were Nan and great granddad.  She was mostly on her own these days.  Her friends had work.  Farha was easily available, only because of her father’s support.  Shallot looked at the hills and valleys facing her,  mostly valleys, with ominous possibilities rockslides or flash floods. 

She went home and sat in a chair in her bedroom, notebook on her lap.  She saw NPG Shallot had just gotten home, was sitting as she was, reaching out to her. 

For both, their personal connection felt surreal, unreal, given who each was, what they knew they were.  Still, they shared a huge common bond.  NPG Shallot and she chatted as besties about George, about what his growing power meant.  About meeting Newman.  How to stick it to him, so whatever his plans were, they would fail. 

By then, it was evening.  She ate a tense dinner with her parents, who agreed they hoped Newman was on the right track.  When they asked what she had done, suspicious, she told them she’d met Newman.  That he danced for her. 

“That’s nice,” her mother said.

After dinner and helping mom clean up, Shallow went upstairs looking forward to tomorrow.  She would lie in bed, thinking of the day, of George, of seeing him again.  As soon as possible.  Not tomorrow, but there is always the day after tomorrow.

26

New Day, Same Smell

A week later, it was a new day on Mars and something smelled bad.  A little worse than yesterday, which was bad enough.  To most everyone, including Newman.  Last night he fell asleep smelling nothing bad but his feet, his soles tingly until he washed them with a damp cloth.  He woke, smelling something worse than his feet.  The smell was in the air, just as the thought of roses could be, but this was more like something rotting.  Decay and corruption and disorder were in the air.   

He was aware colonists were uneasy, despite the immediate gratifications of water and power repair, new sealant for the dome.  But it was only a couple of days.  But they looked outside and saw sandstorms.  Inside, it felt for many they were in the storm.  Waiting for the next crisis. 

Yes, they had representatives voting on a new Council–but no workers had voted for them.  They had sort of self-appointed.  With Newman’s help.  Despite his promotion of a popular image, Newman was aware most colonists thought he was out for himself.  He also was aware that did not matter.  His personality (which he thought was fine, though he realized he could be grating to some folks) was not the issue.  Their issue was: would he help them?  Anything would be better than the stagnant former Council.  And choices were limited.  Before, only three candidates.  Now, only one revised Council. 

Déjà vu all over again. 

Newman knew he was more popular than any other public figure.  In the first day he seemed to get stuff one.  Workers felt more pressure to produce but understood the colony’s survival was at stake.  Yet something smelled, and for once it was not coming from the Smelter stacks.

Newman felt something smelled off.  He did not know what, but something was not quite right.  All the bricks were in place, he’d built the wall.  Madeline had stayed out of sight for a week.  Those kids in the Clinic seemed harmless enough.  Yet he felt a fuzzy block around them.  He wasn’t suspicious, though—which made him suspicious. 

Sitting in his large office, Newman looked up, through the windows, thinking.  He should check the game, see where it was at, where his NPG was.  The last while, the game was ahead of the colony, predicting its future.  He coughed.  The air itself was bad today, even in his office.  The smelter was working round the clock.  His idea of drilling a hole through the dome had met unexpected resistance from the engineers.  They warned, given the existing stresses and the age of the dome material, which was over one hundred years old, drilling a large hole would almost certainly lead to a disastrous break in the dome. 

Publicly, Newman said the engineers were working overtime on the plan.  He also issued statements that water would now be stable, with no more failures.  The truth was something else.  That he could deal with.  Was the problem out there apprehension? 

He had to do something.  Inaction was weakness.  His first priority was enemies.  Second, potential enemies.  Anyone who might undermine his increasing authority.  He could be charming or threatening, as the relationship required.  For Newman, every relationship was a transaction. 

Perhaps he should return to those kids in the Clinic.  Figure out why he dismissed them so easily.  He never dismissed anyone.  Especially not someone who might have his powers.  He looked up through the window, saw two workers at the top of the dome.  Good for them.  At least something was going right. 

Dan and Warren were joined early in their double shift by two other workers.  The four of them were getting the damage to the dome properly sealed, with what was left of the old sealant and then the new stuff.  Warren kept looking up, at the anchor holding all of them from falling.  In a couple of hours, workers in outside suits would scale the dome and inspect the corrosion close up.  The new sealant was not as durable.  Dan and Warren were resealing a crack they had sealed three days earlier. 

Underground, Wendy and Peter were just getting off their own extended shift.  There was one entirely new pipe ready to go, replacing the worst old one.  It was satisfying, seeing the gleaming solid new metal under the bright lights.  Steering clear of the bulldozers, they finally off shift, and went home, to create a baby.  Well, they were exhausted.  Making a baby could wait until tomorrow.  And a shower.      

Farah felt the rumbling underneath her, saw dome workers above, struggling to repair one particular spot.  The light was poor but the Smelter promised new lights for the crops would be arriving in two weeks, at least some new lights.  She knew the Smelter was forced to do the best possible, but it was running full throttle and the air grew steadily worse. 

Coughing, she hoped the sacrifice was worth it.  She’d know in ten or fifteen years, if she lived that long.  It was hard outside, out on the Farm, breathing gray mist.  And some crops were wilting.

Aaliyah hated at working at Marsball but had no choice.  She avoided the lechers, who were everywhere, especially among the managers.  She applied for a transfer out, as her NPG had done.  To date, zero luck.  She could sneak no time at work on the game.  She was always watched. 

This was not the first work experience she had hoped for. 

Shallot’s parents felt continued pressure from work, from increased demands and suspicions of their colleagues that their daughter was somehow creating problems.  They were all still very concerned about the murder, still worried about who might be next.  After a week, nothing had been resolved. 

Shallot sat on her bed, notebook on her lap, in the game.  Talking with her NPG and others about the colony’s problems.  She learned Newman’s solutions were secretly failing.  The NPGs were aware, ahead of the colonists.  Everyone believed Newman was somehow behind the murders. 

Newman now sat drinking a diet pop, looking in the mirror occasionally, thinking he needed to go under the tanning bed again as he thumbed through progress reports.  Diverting Smelter pollution was…out.  Stable water remained very uncertain, new failures inescapable.  He was steadily gaining more control, he could feel it.  That was good.  But something still smelled. 

Time to get off his butt. 

Newman left his office, to make his rounds.  He had to regularly refresh the colonists he had a hold on.  With his aide, the Councillors, the workers’ representatives in their new offices.  He tried holding off once, with his aide, not doing him for a week, and Jim started to question what Newman was up to. 

Every day, Newman made his rounds.  It took a few hours every day, each day, so by the end of the week he covered them all.  He could not do more than a few hours each day.  Gave him headaches. 

Standing in the City Hall front lobby, admin workers quietly side-stepping him, he walked outside.  The air smelled worse out here, unfiltered.  Breathing had emerged in this last week as a top priority.  He knew there was only so much the colonists would tolerate.  He had to do something quickly.  People had to breathe, if only to get his work done. 

He got in his cart and drove.  Quietly cursing.  He should not have to deal with these stupid emergencies.  That should be for someone under him.  He had not seen Antonio for close to a week.  Antonio was key in the Smelter.  Then double check those kids.  He drove fast, wondering if he should wear a mask, coughing. 

When Newman walked in, Antonio was in his office, reading something on his monitor.  Blowing his nose, Newman said to him, “Tony, the air’s bad.”

He shrugged.  “We have orders to run 24/7.  The filters were overloaded already.  What about the shunt to outside?”

“Don’t count on it.  New idea.  Get rid of the exhaust, new direction.”  He had Antonio’s attention.  “What about putting the exhaust underground?”  Antonio sat back, eyes on Newman, who right now he found commanding, his ideas enviable.  “What if we built exhaust pipes to the water station, then used some of its pipes to pump the bad air underground?  The workers there wear protective suits.  Stop the pollution, no damage to the dome.  The pollution will stay underground.” 

“Have you talked to Water?”  Antonio suddenly felt strongly it could and should be done.  “You’d have to bring them onside.”

“I will.” 

Newman had no choice but then to drive across the colony to Water and spend time with the Administrator there.  It took more than he thought to convince her that pumping the Smelter’s exhaust underground would not create problems with maintaining the water supply.  Even when he applied extra effort she was reluctant, telling him Water had only just stabilized.  That the workers would find it difficult working in smog.  That the pollution would not corrode the piping.  Nor could he get her support for pumping exhaust into the lava tubes, away from the water.  Newman had to spend more time with her than he wanted, should have, before.  He would have to revisit her tomorrow, work on her and other key Water staff.  She alone would not be nearly enough.  Others in Water would feel the same.

Newman left tired.  So many people.  He thanked himself he did not have to bother, yet, with Marjorie—she was totally for building an escape ship.  It was mid-day, so he went home and prepared a simple late lunch.  He did not like putting effort into cooking.  City Hall could wait a few hours and his aide could always reach him.  He ate, then positioned his notebook so the security camera in the ceiling—present in every room in every apartment in the colony, except washrooms—would not pick up his notebook’s screen.  He muted the sound before entering the game.

He did not use his avatar.  He must stay distant, undetected.  He tracked his NPG and some others, leaving no trace he’d been there.  He knew NPGs believed he had taken over Council through some type of mind control.  That he had similarly influenced key colonists.  That he was involved in the murders. 

The NPGs were uncertain how to proceed, as they had been programmed to follow their real-life player or colonist.  Now, not so much.  There were too many real colonists and their NPGs to influence.  Or, he had not influenced enough.  He was frustrated.  There was only one of him.    His leadership would have to bring everyone along.

Also, it would be a relief to kill another NPG. 

But Mars and Me had been sealed from further violence.  The game would freeze if he tried.  Alerts would go out.  It would also anticipate violence and prevent it.  Damn dumb game.

He looked at the NPG Mike sitting in jail.  Newman smiled.  Idiot.  Tool. 

Mike had been in his apartment, playing the game, under mental pressure from Newman.  He could now reach fairly far, if he was alone and could concentrate.  Newman killed NPG Phyllis and, a moment later, while Mike thought he was in the game, he was actually walking out of his apartment and onto the street, where he walked across the street and strangled the real Phyllis, thinking he was still in the game.  Then he walked back to his townhouse, returned to sitting with his notebook on his lap, playing the game when Newman snapped him back.  Not realizing he had just committed murder—and doomed the Mayor’s political career.  He so enjoyed screwing over Mike.  As Madeline’s aide, Mike had been a royal pain.

It was work becoming a Councillor, work dominating other Councillors.  It was fun work, building control, but still work.  He wanted results without work.  It would all be worth it.  Mars was an elaborate prison.  He had to escape.

Still thinking of prisons, later that afternoon Newman returned to the Clinic. 

He was tired, did not want to go, but had no choice.  Something still smelled.  Nothing so far today had been off, not in ways which troubled him.  He had enemies.  Some enemy, somewhere.  He had to discover who they were.  So he could stop them.  Madeline must be in on it.  But who else?  He ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair.

First he went to the Clinic’s head doctor, who he controlled.  The doctor said that George’s infestation appeared to have stopped, at least temporarily.  Otherwise nothing, except he had made friends with another patient.  Both had lived longer than any other patient.  He told Newman he could do nothing but wait and observe.  They were unusual.

Newman’s suspicions increased.  It was as if he had to fight inside, to be suspicious. 

He knew the doctor could be ruthless when necessary.  The vivisections were top secret.  The doctor felt autopsies missed something in the patients when alive.  But cutting up live patients told him nothing new, it was pointless, so he stopped.  Reluctantly, because figuring out and stopping the infestations had been his obsession for over ten years. 

Newman searched the doctor’s mind and found it had been…influenced.  It was subtle.  But clearly foggy around George and the girl. 

And there it was.  Someone else with his powers.  That punk.    

The air started smelling good while still smelling bad. 

Newman took the doctor with him, from his office, down the corridors, to George’s hallway.  They stopped, listened.  It was quiet.  Newman felt something.  From down the corridor.  Where the two remaining patients in the section lived.  The other patient had withered, as had previous infected colonists. 

Newman smiled, his mental walls up, as he walked into George’s room, the doctor behind him.  He saw George standing in front of a mirror, combing his hair.  The girl, Katie, sat on the bed, a closed notebook on her lap.  Both looked at him.  Newman knew at once they were aware he’d been coming.  Waiting for him. 

For how long? 

He sensed they had coated themselves.  “Good afternoon,” he said to them.  He did not bother to smile.  They knew.  They both nodded, looking at him steadily. 

You both can hear me.  I know it. 

George cocked his head, looking at Newman.  You here to hurt us? 

Of course not.

That isn’t what your mind says.  Katie’s voice.  

Apologies.  I’m frustrated.  You of all people should appreciate that.  We are different.  We must be careful.   

We want to leave.  George matched Newman’s steady look. We could walk out but we would just be hunted. 

Newman’s thin lips curved into a smile.  Of course.  You should not be here.  You can leave at any time.  Go anywhere you want.  I’m sure the doctor will agree.    

The doctor, standing next to Newman, nodded, smiling stiffly.

If?

No ifs.  There is a but.  If you can help me with the colony. 

Help how? Katie asked.

The small room was quiet, still.  The doctor stood listening but there was nothing to hear. 

You tell me, Newman thought, to them.  You both have power.  You can find a way to help the colony.  It needs your help.

George and Katie looked at each other, then back to Newman.  They sent him nothing.

I understand.  I feel your suspicion.  Have I used my power?  Of course.  As you have.  Walk out when you’re ready.  I’ll have street clothing provided.  If you want to help the colony, the Smelter workers are exhausted.  You could walk among them, pepping them up.  Is that so terrible? Improving morale?  

Newman snapped his finger at the doctor, smiled again at them and walked out, the doctor following, closing the door behind them. 

Outside, down the hall, Newman faced him.  “Can you give them sedatives?  Knock them out?”

“They’ll know it’s coming,” the doctor replied.  “Never work.” 

“Drug their food?” Newman told him.  “When that boy is unconscious, that little snot, vivisect him.  Cut him open.  See what’s keeping him alive.  Do the girl too.  Today if you can.” 

The doctor smiled as Newman walked out of the Clinic. 

There was only one other person he had irrationally thought was fine.  Shallot.  Why was he not suspicious of her?  She was the Mayor’s grand daughter, tight with her.  And Police told him she had interfered with evidence about the murder.  Why had he written her off?  He’d have the cops put her under surveillance, using the units he controlled.

Before he could really show his leadership, he had to ensure not only that his base was secure but so were his enemies. 

He knew what he had to do next. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon under sunlamps, improving his tan, black goggles over his eyes so he could not see.

27

Shallot On The Run

Shallot, looking out her bedroom window, saw the grey cart sitting across the street.  The two obviously undercover officers talked on their radios or typed on the computer in their cart.  They were there to watch her.  Well, she’d gambled.  Evening approached and everything grew darker. 

Towards the end of day, water flow reduced again to half the possible rate–some pipes had to be re-welded.  The steam plant was back to half power.  Homes relied on batteries.  The colonists were more stressed than ever.  Would pumping the exhaust underground work?  Newman said it would.  Everyone was talking about it.  But anyone who worked underground said no.

Up on top, beginning their next extended shift, Dan and Warren had to work exclusively with the new sealant.  The old sealant had run out.  They found the new sealant difficult to apply, it took longer to dry, then appeared suspiciously temporary.  Sand coming in through a small crack was already chipping away at new sealant laid yesterday. 

The farms had newly plowed, enriched fields.  But the smog was worse and plants continued to wither. 

Dan and Warren, Wendy and Peter debated during their shifts and off work about what was going wrong.  That some new changes were not good ideas.  Especially an exhaust hole in the dome or piping pollution underground or using the new sealant before it was ready.  And that Newman pushed it all.  He was its voice.  These were his plans.  And he was a liar.

Worse than the original Council.

Shallot stood in her bedroom late in the afternoon, the one room that still felt like hers, when her cell phone chimed.  It was Newman’s aide, asking her to a meeting with Newman the following morning.  She said “Of course, no problem” and immediately phoned Nan. 

“Don’t go,” Nan told her with zero hesitation.  “He visited the Clinic again today.  George’s NPG says Newman knows about them, that Newman sees George and Katie as potential threats.  He’s let them go, but only to see who they go to.”

“He wants to see me.  Feels like a demand.  What can I do?  I can’t hide.  The colony isn’t big enough.  And he’ll know wherever I go.”

“I’ll call back.  You say there are undercover officers outside?”

“In their cart.  I don’t feel safe here.”

“I’ll get back to you fast as I can.  Sit tight.  Nothing will happen tonight.  Stay there.”  Madeline disconnected. 

Shallot stared at the phone in her hand.  Sit tight.  Sure.  She went to her closet, pulled out her two overnight cases, for sleepovers, and began packing.  Then put the suitcases on the floor and concentrated on the backpack.  She had to travel light. 

Her notebook went in, along with whatever she thought she’d need for—how long?  Her toothbrush, underwear, a pair of pants and tee shirt, a simple dress which she put on. 

She looked at herself in the washroom mirror.  She redid her hair, so it was in pigtails, a style she never wore.  No make-up, nothing to attract attention.  She pulled on the backpack and walked out the back door of the home she had grown up in, where her earliest memories had been made, without texting or phoning her parents.  Or anyone. 

She did not look back, lips pressed grimly together as she climbed over the backyard fence and began to walk down the alley.  She had no idea to where. 

The police must be watching all her electronics.  Contacting anyone using the game or on her phone was dangerous.  She had to move, to avoid contact, avoid being noticed, move until she knew where she was moving to: then double her speed.  When Nan phoned back. 

If Nan phoned back. 

If she was her own, there was only place area remotely safe.  On intuition she headed towards the Farm.  Farha worked there and her dad was okay.

There were people to avoid, walking or riding in small carts.  Almost all of them knew her.  She’d eaten dinner or lunch with some.  Now she kept her face down as she walked silently, trying to avoid any attention.  She’d always been interested in getting attention.  The thought made her smile now.  Times had changed. 

This morning, she woke in her bedroom, here home.  Now increasingly far behind her.    

She kept from the more crowded streets, kept from the business areas.  She had two besties.  One  worked in Marsball, full of hostiles.  The other was on the Farm. 

Her cell phone chimed.  It was Nan.  She took the call.  “You okay?”

“Kind of.”

“Where are you?”  She told her.  “Good.  Go to the Farm.  They’re ready.” 

“Halfway there.”

She put her phone back in a pocket and doubled her pace. 

By the time she saw the Farm, she no longer felt as frightened.  Seeing the Farm buildings was a relief.  She approached the main gates.  Farm Security, something apparently new, stood by the gate, watching as she approached.  Two officers.  One said something into his cell phone as she walked up.  Both knew her.  They had gone to school together. 

“Hey Shallot.  You’re expected.”  He smiled, a bit forced, he was the serious type.

“Hey Ted.  Farha?  Can I see her?”

“Second building to the right.  The green one.  Go now, get out of sight now.  There are colony security cameras on the road.” 

Not hiding her sigh of relief, she thanked him and quickly walked ahead.  The green building was two storeys, large.  A farmer, waiting for her at the front door, told her where Farha’s little office was. Farha was typing when Shallot knocked softly on the open door.  “Finally!”

Shallot grinned, for what felt the first time in years.  Smiles ain’t grins.  Shallot filled her in on the latest.  “I’ve come here for help.  It’s beyond cool if you can do something.  I have to hide.  The police are onto me.  It isn’t altering the video.  It’s Newman, being paranoid.”

“Dad’s already working on it.”

Shallot put her backpack down, slumped into the chair facing her friend.  “That was a lot.”  She sighed. 

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Well, how could you be?”

Farha got her a drink and Shallot eagerly took it.  They began chatting, interrupted when Cary walked in.  He looked at Shallot. 

“Pig tails?  Smart look,” he told her.

He told her there were several places he could hide her, for as long as necessary.  The best was the locked barn.  No one entered without Cary’s approval, only he and a handful of farmers had the key. 

“You can live in there.  We have storerooms.  One is now a bedroom.  “I’ll show you.  Are you in?”

She thanked him, picked up her backpack and followed him out.  They walked past several barns, Shallot undoing her pigtails.  They went up to the one barn whose doors were shut.  He unlocked the door, they entered, he closed it behind them.  They stood there a moment.  It was very quiet. 

“Thanks,” Shallot told him.  “You’re unbelievable.” 

“We rely on helping each other, eh?”

He showed her several rooms built into the walls, storage areas.  Past the rooms she saw a large field with tall plants.  He led her to a nearby room, door open.  Two farmers were finishing putting up a small bed for her.  Cary told her she would have a room here, with a bed, desk and even a small adjacent washroom.  Compact.  And there were small doors to the storage rooms on either side.    

She thanked Cary, thinking the small room would do nicely.  It was better than she hoped.  There was security on the Farm.  She would be safe here, at least until Newman tracked her down.  “Do you have any clothes?”

“Farmer’s,” he replied.  “You’ll look fine.  You should see the rest, though.  You may not want to stay here, after you see the plants.” 

She put the backpack down and followed him out, to the large field dominating the barn’s interior.  The field contained plants, rows of them.  They were like no plants Shallot had seen in person—only on TV.

Martian plants. 

Over five feet tall, each of them.  In long rows, spaced apart.  Thick central light brown stalks.  Branches grew from the stalks, with large orange-brown leaves.   At the base of each stalk was an eye.

A large, unblinking eye. 

Which turned as they approached, towards them.  Shallot knew about the plants, there were occasional news features.  But now she faced them.  And they stared back.  Now moving as she moved, following her. 

“They never blink,” Cary said to her quietly. 

“Hello,” she said to the plants, unable to think of anything else.  She only could think they were watching her.

The plant nearest her twitched. 

Then several plants twitched. 

“What’s going on?” Shallot asked. 

“They’re talking to each other,” he told her.  “At least, we think so.  Still have no idea what’s going on, after twenty years.  They’re not hostile.”

“No,” she told him.  “Creepy but not hostile.”

“We feel nothing from them, none of that telepathic stuff.  They can’t or don’t want to, we have no idea.” 

She looked at the plants a long time.  They looked back.  Occasionally twitching.    

As they walked away, she waved good-bye, and the plant nearest her twitched it’s whole top.

He led Shallot to the rear of the barn, a smaller part, the pens.  She looked at the animals, chickens, goats and cows, each weak and pathetic.  There were not many, all were thin, one cow lay on the ground, apparently breathing its last.  A farmer knelt by it, rubbing its head gently. 

“Why these and not the others?  The animals we walked by looked healthy.”  

Cary shrugged.  “Good question.  They’re infected.  Like the people in the Clinic, we think.”  Shallot thought of George.  “Infection started while they were normal.  Why them and not others, we don’t know.  Yet.  Most of us assume they picked it up from the water, like colonists have.  When we see an animal is infected, we bring them in here.  It’s awful.  Isn’t contagious.  They just wither and die.  No living creature should endure that.”  

“But the plants haven’t reached out to you?  You’re certain they aren’t somehow dangerous?  There’s creepy stuff in the colony about telepathy.”

“Yeah.  We hear that.”  He shrugged.  “Well, we care for them.  Provide water and warmth.  I think they don’t want to harm us.  They know they depend on us, we think.  Dangerous?  No.  Creepy?  Well, Shallot, I love plants, love watching them grow from seed.  It’s beautiful.  A miracle.  But these…it’s got to me, them watching.  I’ve felt plants looking at me, but not like these guys.”  He shivered. 

He left her alone, to return to work.  The front door had to be locked, she could go nowhere, but then again had nowhere to go.  Select farmers would come in frequently, tending the plants and animals, so she would not be alone.  No longer isolated.  She would get to know them, make new friends.  Here, she could settle.  From here, she could get a lot done.

Her normal was not a go-to, running and hiding, which was a go-where? Her normal now was get out there. 

When she entered her new room, the bed had been made, there was a desk and a chair, even a worn armchair.  The washroom had folded clean towels.  Shallot decided to think of it as camping out.  Temporary.  As much fun as she could make it, which could be enough. 

She sat at the desk, took her notebook from the backpack, plugged it in and powered it up, putting it on the desk.  She pulled up the chair.  Opened the game.  Eagerly went to the page where she could create changes, the page she and her friends had used before. 

Create an NPG Martian plant who can talk with me.

28

Frantic

The next morning, Newman was frantic.  Shallot was a no-show for the meeting.  He expected anyone to meet with him on demand.  The young idiot stood him up. When he sent the police, she was gone.  Apparently, gone a while.  They could not find her—yet—but they were checking security camera footage.  He questioned her parents.  Nothing.  They clearly had no idea.

Madeline and Shallot.  Probably George and that Katie.  Enemies.  Working against him. 

Worse were the teens.  Teenagers! 

Shallot had gone into hiding.  That made her suspect number one.  She could not hide alone.  Not in the colony.  She had help.  Who?  He already had the police interviewing everyone the pain in the butt knew.  What else could he do?  And the bad smell remained, from pollution and otherwise.  He knew his public image might be at stake.  Colonists who supported him also did not like him.  As long as he got the colony moving, he was okay. 

That felt very temporary.  More was needed, now.    

He decided to call a rally.  Within an hour.  Have as many colonists as could be managed, give them time off work, have it in the courtyard, televised.  Show the support for him.  Newman had his aide, Jim, get on it. 

But there had to be more he could do.  What?  He paced, occasionally fondling himself, considering murder in the game as a relief.  Had the doctor vivisected those two kids yet? 

An hour later, when his aide Jim came into the large office, Newman paced.  Jim filled him in on the latest–Shallot was likely at the Farm.  Newman nodded: she had friends there, it was isolated.  But that meant she was probably with the plants.  And he stayed far away from the plants. 

Jim told him the rally was ready, people were in the courtyard, waiting, for him.  Music was playing to keep the restless crowd appeased but they were restless, feeling pressure to be back at work. 

“Crap,” he muttered as he walked out, Jim dutifully behind.  The courtyard was half full.  He expected that.  He had to avoid talking about diverting Smelter exhaust, outside or underground.  In reality, the workers’ groups involved were adamantly against it, told him if he pushed it further, they would go public.  And the new sealant worked temporarily, at best.  Colonists knew that also.  Water and power were down again.  He started well, leading the colony, but that was last week.

He walked down the front steps of City Hall to face the crowd.  Walked up to the small podium and microphone on the top of City Hall’s front steps.  Murmurs in the crowd grew silent as colonists in the small crowd watched him step up to the podium.

“Thank you for coming today,” he began, taking the mike into his hand.  “I know the current state of the colony.  Reality forces us to change.  Including me.  Yes, right now we face one crisis after another.  Makes me want to go to the washroom a lot.”  Quiet laughter.  “I like the washroom, don’t you?  Private.  Air conditioned.  That aroma thing so it smells good after I use it.”  More quiet laughter.  Newman felt better.  Half his public speeches, his TV appearances, were entertainment. 

“I only want the best for us.  We must make Mars great again.  It isn’t now.  Make A Mars that is Great.  Together, we can glory in living here!  I love life here.  Or want to.  It’s tough, isn’t it?”  Murmurs.  Wrong murmurs, wrong direction.

“I breathe the same air as you.  We will solve this problem!  I do worry about the new sealant.  It simply is not as good.  The dome could fail at any time, truthfully.  There is a growing consensus we should consider moving underground.”

Dead silence.  After a moment, applause from one colonist, Jim, standing behind him. 

“We would build a simple but secure enclosure to live in.  From there, no matter what happens with the dome, we could live.  Continue.  Repair.  I know this is a lot.  But we are running out of time.  I ask you all to think about this idea.  It would be only temporary.  When there is more information, I will talk to you again.  In the meantime, be assured I will regularly update you on our progress.” 

Silence.  Then weak applause.  He saw they did want to applaud at all.  This would not play well on video.  This diversion would not work. 

“Thank you.  Thank you all for coming.  Thank you for building a better tomorrow.”  He winced, he should not remind them of today.  He smiled, waved, then left, fleeing inside City Hall.  That also would not look good on video.    

Inside, Jim found Newman pacing in the lobby.  Administration workers turned to their offices, walking around them.  It was difficult walking around Newman, he paced.  Noticing them, he retreated to his office.  They watched, shaking their heads.  Watched Jim follow Newman into the office.

In Newman’s office, alone with him, Jim said “No offense, but you should have run that by me.  You saw it was bad.  Going underground?  Is that our only choice?  People would have to give up most everything.  You don’t have a consensus about the dome failing or immediately having to retreat underground.  I mean, really.  You needed to give them something.  Inspire them.  You offered living in a cave.” 

“I appreciate your honesty.”  Newman’s voice was cool.  “The colonists need a diversion until I sort everything out.”  Newman’s voice turned cold.  “Madeline and Marjorie are plotting.  I can feel it.  And that Shallot is up to something, with them.  I have to find out what.  The ancient Greeks thought when it rained, the Gods were peeing on them.  Madeline’s pee could shower me any time.”

“Okay, yeah sure, but so?  They’ll turn against you.”

“I had to divert the colonists.  Have them think about something totally disruptive, that would totally occupy them.  Divert their energy and stall any plans against me.  It’s a good idea, and it is done.” 

He paced, eyes on the floor, away from Jim.  Jim was thoroughly conditioned.  The twerp should never argue with him.  Obviously, conditioning was never complete.  Never total. 

Well, he was certainly right that the colonists might turn against him, but now he’d bought a few days to turn everything around.  It would not be difficult, once the physical plant was restored, the water and power back on full.

The dome could wait. 

He wished he could enter the game and strangle Shallot.  What the hell was she really up to?  What was happening at the Farm?  There were no security cameras there he could tap into, and none at all in that locked barn. 

Shallot took a chair out to the plants and sat near them, facing them.  Their eyes all turned towards her.  Notebook on her lap.  She said, out loud, “Hello.”  Nothing except the eyes watching her.  In the game, Shallot found the new Martian Plant NPG and typed Hello.  Can you hear me?

In this game?  Or with you in the barn?

Whoa. 

It worked. 

Now what?

Hello.  Who are you?  What should I know?  Where do I even begin?

Bring George here.  And Katie.  George and Katie.  Bring them here.  So they are close.

Why?  Why close?

They feel us but are too distant.  It is best if they stand near us.  Standing.  An interesting concept, never moving.  If they are here, we can talk with them.  They need to hear from us.  We from them.  They are part of us but not we of them. 

Okay, that made sense.  Except she had only an idea what the plants were talking about.

Part of you? They’re becoming plants?

No.  Do not worry.  They will remain…human. 

What about me?

What about you?

She felt slighted.  They were indifferent, it was almost insulting, except they were alien plants and she had to give them space.  I mean, what should I know that affects me?  Who are you? 

Pause.  This had been secret.  Only because of our failures to communicate with the animals or Farmers.  None were or are receptive.  George and Katie are. 

We did not intend to hurt your feelings.  We do not have such emotions, there is much still to learn about living creatures who move. 

We are what remains alive on Mars, as you call our home.  We survived until the freezing and drought, billions of years ago, when our home lost its magnetic protection.  We enjoy solar radiation but could neither survive no water nor the deep freezing.  So our ancestors planted seeds.  Many seeds.  In the hope that one day, water and warmth would return. 

Our spore are everywhere, ready to grow even after billions of years.  They are in the air, what remains of it, the soil, the ice.  When you drank badly filtered water, it contained our seeds.  You drank our seeds. 

Our seeds know only to survive.  They are, in your terms, babies.  We have seen they cannot tolerate living in almost all colonists.  Most die before the colonists realize there is anything inside them.  We mourn them.  Where the colonist’s body shows promise, the seeds grow.  But humans cannot tolerate such growth.  It is unfortunate almost all seeds which do grow accidentally kill their hosts.  And then, the seeds also die. 

But after decades, a very few humans have the DNA, the bodily structure, to allow the seeds to flourish.  That developed recently.  Perhaps our seeds mutated.  Growing in a living creature was not our heritage.  Our heritage is the soil.  Colonists planted our seeds into Martian soil.  They helped us grow.  Provided warmth.  Water.  Enabled us to flourish.  We have no wish nor need to harm you.  Or infected colonists.

George and Katie.  They are a success.  We felt their presence, even at the great distance.  The seeds have flourished within them. And there are a handful of others, but they have kept their infection secret.        

What about George and Katie?  What will happen to them?

It already has.  They have formed a symbiotic relationship with the plants inside them.  The plants are content to exist.  They feel no need to grow now.  They share with their hosts our powers, our way to communicate.  We wish to speak with George and Kate, to explain and understand.  We know they are pause concerned.  About their situation.  They can be reassured.  We can put them at ease.  Do you understand?  Agree? 

…yes.  What about them?

George will come here, shortly.  He reached out to us.

Shallot sat in the folding chair, looking at the plants, their eyes.  Their eyes stared back.  A lot to absorb.  She immediately contacted her NPG–who already knew.  Then she texted Farha and Allyiah and the friends who had joined her in the coffee shop.  Then her great grandad, then Nan, writing all of them about the seeds, George and Katie, the plants, everything she had just learned. 

The humans texted back, shocked, not about the telepathy but about the seeds.  Seeds trying to grow inside the colonists was a shock.  Only Shallot’s great grandfather acted as if it was something he should have guessed.

The NPGs were excited.  They flooded the NPG Martian plant with texts.  They had to create more NPG Martian plants, to deal with the response.  Throughout the colony, talk was about the seeds.  About Newman’s speech and having to move underground.  About the failing dome.    

Wendy and Peter missed all of that. 

Their TV and computers were off. 

 They were creating a new life. 

29

Pressure Pressure Pressure

Unexpected knocking on Newman’s front door.  Insistent knocking.  Impossible to ignore.  Many knew he was here, at home.  He waited.  The knocking did not let up. 

He stopped what he was doing in front of the large mirror, put on a robe, hurried down the stairs, running his fingers through his thinning blonde hair, ensured the enhancements were in place, then at the front door paused, looked through the eye hole.  He stiffened, then unlocked and slowly opened the door. 

Madeline stood on his doorstep, Sally beside her.  Two clear enemies.  Arriving unannounced.  “Charmed, I’m sure,” he said to them. 

“It’s talk time,” Madeline told him.  “Can we?  I figured you wouldn’t answer.  And this had to be in person.  Can we talk?”

“Of course.”  Newman stood aside and waved them in, quietly closing the door behind them, trying to look prepared. 

Madeline confronted him as soon as the door was shut.  “We all saw your speech.  Everyone is talking about it.  And angry.  Abruptly moving everyone underground?  You got everyone pissed off.  Sorry for the language but that’s the best way to put it.”

“Oh?”  Was this why she came?  He felt more confident.  That he could handle.  He knew the colonists would be angry.  That was the idea. 

“You lied.  The Dome Workers contacted me.  They never told you failure was near.  The engineers are as concerned about your plan to live underground as they were about the hole in the dome or pumping the exhaust underground.  They and Water say it won’t work.  If you continue, they’ll go public.  Do you want that?” 

“The new sealant is not as good,” Newman replied.  “The engineers are exploring living underground.  Colonists needed to understand.” 

“You panicked them.  The dome is not that bad.  Living underground isn’t real.  How can lying help?” 

It went on like that for a while.  Newman fed them standard replies, increasingly confident.  Clearly, they knew nothing.  Twenty minutes later, Madeline and Sally stood on the doorstep again, the door shutting behind them.  “He wants people scared,” Madeline said.  “Why?”

“He’s diverting them with the worst thing he could think of,” Sally told her.  “It’s desperate.  He wants the colony absorbed about going underground, not him.  Something’s chewing at him.  Paranoia?  He knows we’re organizing.  Shallot?  He has the police hunting her.”

“He’s in over his head and knows it,” Madeline replied.  “Maybe he can’t admit it to himself yet, but he pulled off the start but will never make the finish line.  His arrogance is too obvious.” 

“What can we do?  Speak to the other Councillors?”

“He controls them, hon.  Except Marjorie and her aide.  Because he needs her full throttle on the escape ship.” 

“This is about him wanting to get out?” 

“I would say wouldn’t you but you wouldn’t, I wouldn’t, we shouldn’t–he would.”    

They slowly walked, chatting, back to Madeline’s apartment, having been evicted from City Hall. 

Shallot’s parents learned of Newman’s speech after returning home from a disappointing Marsball final (Antonio’s favourite lost.)  They watched Newman on TV and spent the rest of the evening shocked, looking at the belongings they had worked hard for, belongings they would mostly have to give up.  Looking at the home they had built together, over the years.  They lay in the bed, Miranda crying, Antonio holding her. 

Both had been conditioned by Newman.  Both now questioned him, freed a bit by the shock.  Moving underground sounded horrible.  How could Newman even suggest it?  Everyone knew things were bad, but nowhere near that bad. 

Wendy and Peter, in bed, oblivious to anything or one but themselves, satisfied. 

Shallot and Farha sat together in the barn, notebooks on their laps, talking to the plants. 

Later in the day, Madeline got up from bed, washed, put on some clothes.  Sally murmured, on the bed, watching.  Madeline picked up her cell phone.  “Got to do something,” she told Sally.  “It’s all too stirred up.  Relax.  We can only watch right now.  I’ll stay in touch.”

“Where are you going?” 

“To the one other person I have to talk with today.”

Sally nodded, slowly getting out of bed.  “Okay okay okay.  I’ll get up and work my contacts.”

Marjorie’s home was lovely.  Madeline always liked how it radiated charm and thoughtfulness.  They sat together in the living room, a hand-hooked rug Marjorie created on the floor, fake yarn with a pleasant glow.  The rug was colourful, a field of flowers. 

“Worried?” Madeline asked as they sat on the lovely couch.

“Scared stiff.  It’s best not to show it.  Tea?”  She poured two waiting cups from the small tea pot on the table in front of them.    

“Any idea what to do?  The colonists are quickly forming their own government, ignoring Council.”

She shrugged.  “Predictable.  We have to have faith in people.  We wait.  We’ve heard from the workers.  Newman’s been exposed, lying.  Bricks falling from the wall he’s built around himself.  He knows they see through the hole.  To him.”  She sighed.  “It is all so ugly.” 

“We cannot sit and watch, not even at this early stage,” Madeline insisted.

“Try more tea.”

“We have to network with key workers.  Help them.”

“We have been.  For a week.  You’re going in circles, dear.” 

“Shallot’s gone into hiding.  We don’t have that luxury.  Newman may come after us.  Will come after us.” 

“I agree.  Within days.  He already believes we’re plotting against him.  Me, not you.  I’ll be warned.  Go home and get some rest.  First, finish your tea.  I don’t think you eat well.” 

Madeline left feeling a bit calmer.  The tea, and Marjorie, warmed her.  She was uncertain why Marjorie was so calm, but Marjorie had always been her own person.  She spent more time with Madeline’s father than with her.  She knitted her dad mittens last winter.  Perhaps Marjorie was correct, that the best solution was to leave Mars altogether. 

It took little time for Madeline to drive to Police Headquarters.  She would have preferred walking, being among people.  But her leg ached and she still did not want to be seen using a cane.  She looked at it beside her, a symbol of her increasing weakness. 

The workers’ organizations all had meetings planned for that evening to discuss Newman’s statement and the viability of pumping pollution underground, of building a new colony below them.  The Water Workers in particular were angry at even thinking about working in the midst of Smelter pollution.  Not only would it make their work harder, they were certain chemicals in the Smelter exhaust was corrosive, would further damage the pipes.  And possibly poison the water everyone needed.

She was uncertain she should waste time at Police Headquarters, but had nothing else to do, and needed to do something.  And there was still a hole to be filled.

The Chief smiled when he talked with her but his mind clearly was not in the room.  He covered his wariness of her, was also busy with investigation reports he covered up (Shallot was at the farm, it was unclear where.)  Not only did he have no problem letting her see Mike by herself, he encouraged it.  She assumed Mike’s cell was covered by security cameras, and he would send the talk to Newman. 

After she left, he texted Newman.  Newman wanted to know everything she did.  He probably already knew, officers had followed her since yesterday evening. 

A guard led her through corridors, then to the restricted area, then to the end of a row of cells, to Mike.  The guard then left her.

Mike sat in a small, barred cell, on a single bed.  There was a sink and toilet.  No windows or mirror.  He wore a convict’s suit.  He still wore his shoes but the laces had been removed.  Nor did he have a belt.

She sat on a waiting folding chair outside the cell.  His hands were folded in his lap.  Hers clutched her handbag.  He knew she was there but said nothing, did not look at her.  “So.  How are you today?” she asked, quiet, distanced.  She was there because of guilt.  She owed him at least a visit.  He probably knew that.

“How’s Sally working out?” he asked, looking at the floor.

She waited for him to look at her.  He finally did, unable to bear the silence.  “You knew I was unhappy.  Unsatisfied.  For a long time.  You and I were only a convenience.  True for both of us, yes?” 

“Yeah.  Yeah.”  He straightened.  “I’m sorry.  Really.  I’ve been a jerk.  I was a good aide, though, until this.”  He cleared his throat.  The old, arrogant Mike was history.

“It’s history,” she told him.  “Forget it.  And as for this, it isn’t your fault.”

“My DNA was on her neck.  Witnesses identified me.”

“You were influenced.  Without knowing it.  By him.”

“How could he?”

“We think he has telepathic powers.  From the plants.  Like the plants.”   

“I’m in jail.  Seen the witness videos.  I think I killed Phyllis.  The real Phyllis.  Like, in a dream.  I can’t figure it out.” 

She reached out but could not reach him through the bars.  He still sat on the bed.  “You were being controlled.  Set up.”

“I was playing the game.”

“Yes, at first.  Then you were made to believe you were playing.  You were set up,” she repeated.  “Mike, you were never the gamer type.  Ever.  When did you start?”

“Few months ago.”

“After you met with Newman maybe?”  Mike blinked.  “Think.  You haven’t seen Newman for over a week.  My guess is, he has less control over you.  The last week, he’s been seen methodically being with certain worker groups, spending time with individuals.  Who then start to act oddly.” 

“…Yes.  I remember.  We talked one day at City Hall.  He mentioned the game.  That night, when I went home, I was eager to see what the game was like.  I’d never thought it would be interesting.”

“And did you meet with him after that?” 

Mike nodded.  “Maybe once a week or so.  Meeting him was routine.  Part of my work.”

“He set you up.  Probably to get at me, just before the election.  He has powers, maybe from the Martian plants on the Farm, we don’t know.  He killed the NPG Phyllis, then made you kill the real one.  What did he tell you about the game?”

“It’s a secret, but who cares now?  He said he used his avatar to kill NPGs in the game.  There were no consequences.  A few hours later, the NPGs were back.  He showed me how.” He looked at her, trembling.  She thought he might cry. 

“You’ve been framed.  And I can prove it.  With your help.  Will you help?”

He stood.  “Bet your ass.  “Just keep that jerk away from me.” 

“You’re as safe as possible, locked in here.  I have friends here.  They can prevent him from visiting.  Soon you’ll be back to your old self.” 

He looked at her.  “That’s too bad.  And, thanks.” 

On the way out, she chatted with a few guards, ensuring she would be told if Newman wanted to visit Mike, and that they would try to stop him if he did.  Best bet, transfer Mike to another cell so Newman could not find him. 

It was getting late.  She was not tired but needed a break.  Limping.  Should have taken her cane.  She phoned Sally. 

“I’m coming home.  We need to talk.”

“The talk?”

“No,” Madeline told her, “Just talk.  About Mike.  Make coffee, please.” 

“On it.  Welcome home.  I was thinking of going out for a walk.”

30

Freedom?

George walked out of the Clinic, Katie at his side.  He took a long deep breath.  Even though the air tasted bad, he relished it.  Free air.  He’d lost track how long he’d been isolated, locked in the health jail.  More than two weeks. 

We made it he told her.  On the street.  Newman unlocked the doors.  We didn’t have to do anything except go. 

What now? she asked. 

The plants on the Farm want to talk with me.  The Martian plants.  I feel them calling, but they are too far away.  Shallot told me, through the game. 

You aren’t going home?

Going home means nothing to me. 

I’m going home.  I need to see mom and dad before anything else.

They shook hands, then she left to walk one way, he in the opposite direction. 

George felt no need to hide, as Shallot had.  Newman was certainly having him watched, either followed or at least monitored by surveillance cameras.  Katie as well.  They probably thought he’d split with her because of some kind of plan.  He had. 

George grinned.  He was sixteen but felt older than any of them.  He could easily stay one step ahead.  Newman was the only true threat.  And George believed he would be safer with the plants.  Newman was known to never visit them. 

After two weeks in the Clinic, he enjoyed walking briskly, working his legs, feeling his body pump.  He felt alive.  Better than ever.  Certainly better than that morning when he entered the Clinic.  The moving lumps were gone—no, it was more accurate to say they had found a place inside him.  Two seeds, no longer seeds.  Two Martian plants.  Growing inside him.  Sharing their energy, their early, childish seedling thoughts. 

What does sun look like? they asked, knowing only darkness. 

See through my eyes.  And they did.

Moving.  We have no memory of our species moving.

They are plants.  I am an animal.

We enjoy moving.  It is amazing!  The view always changes!

George saw people he knew.  He waved, they waved back.  They smiled but he saw it was phoney, they were absorbed in thought—probably about whether they would have to move underground.  Certainly hardly noticing him.  As he walked towards the Farm, most everyone George saw appeared stressed, some angry.  The few he stopped, ones he knew well, they all asked how it felt to be uprooted.  They told him they were glad he was out of the Clinic, but did not ask why. 

Some told him he was better off in the Clinic.  Otherwise he would think only of approaching disaster and living in a cave. 

He had been to the Farm once, a school tour.  He knew where it was, not far now.  The farm then was open.  Now he saw it was fenced.  A security officer stood at the main gate.  He walked up, confident when he saw the officer’s face.  Two years ahead of him in school. 

“George.”

“Willy.”  

“The barn you want is behind me, over there.”  He pointed.  “Oh, and welcome.” 

“Shallot’s inside.”  Cary waited by the front door.  He shook George’s hand, let him in, locked the door behind them.  George stopped, just inside, taking in the large interior. 

“Thank you,” he said to Cary. 

“We have a common problem,” Cary replied. 

“I have to see the plants.”  Then he saw Shallot, walking up to him, shy, smiling. 

He took her into his arms and they held onto each other.  For a long, quiet while.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered into his ear. 

“Don’t be.  I needed to be in the Clinic.  Couldn’t call myself.” 

“Not that.”  She started to take him to her little room, holding his hand.  After a few feet, past the walls and stacked palettes, he saw the plants.  He looked at them, waiting for him.  He for them.   

“Not yet,” she told him.  “We have something important to do together.”  She looked at him, holding his hand. 

“Yes.  I missed you.  That was the hardest part of the two weeks.  But.  Shallot.  I have to talk to the plants.  Have to.  They’re calling to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I have two growing inside me.”

Before she could reply he was walking towards the field.  She walked with him, no longer holding his hand, finding it hard to keep up.  In a moment they stood only a few feet from the rows of Martian plants.  The eyes on all the plants turned towards him as he approached, now fixed on him as he stood a few feet away.   He stared back.

“I’m going to talk with them, Shallot.  I’ll be back.”  He turned from her towards the plants.

Hello, George.

I came to see you.  I have felt you for two weeks, after the plants inside me settled.

Shallot looked from him to the plants.  She heard nothing.  It was maybe stupid, but she felt left out.  Almost abandoned, moments after he walked into the barn.  When they told her George was coming, this was not what she’d expected, not what she yearned for, not what she needed.  She thought he was coming to her. 

Two of us live inside you.  They will not harm you. 

Know that.  What is next for us? That I don’t know.

They will live inside you, sharing their power with you.  They are happy. 

Am I going to become a plant? They turn me into one?

No.  You are their host. 

What about Katie?

She also has two plants happily inside her.   Perhaps it takes two, inside the right host, for our seeds to thrive outside the soil.  We think on it.  It is a new experience for us.  We have only grown in soil.  And we cannot move.  Your plants are excited when you move.  Which is always.

Yeah, they get excited even when I brush my teeth.  What about me?  Where do I go from here?  Do you want me to do anything?

Be happy.  It is good for your plants. 

Shallot felt increasing unease, watching George face the plants, focussed on them, their eyes focussed on him–except the single eye watching her. 

Weird.  Talking with no sound was weird.  George entranced with the plants, not her—definitely weird. 

She stepped back a few steps, took her cell phone from her pocket and asked Farha to come over.  Now.  This was too much to handle alone.  With George, she felt alone.

Farha was there in minutes, with Cary.  She walked up to Shallot and they hugged.  Cary stayed a few steps back, watching.  George ignored them, engaged with the plants. 

“What’s up?” Farah asked when they parted.

“They’re having a chat.”  She looked at Farha.  “He seems okay.  But this is plenty strange.  I want to know what they’re telling each other.” 

“Food vs. fertilizer?  Dancing or being rooted?”

“Newman has to know we’re both here,” Shallot told her.  “Why hasn’t he shown up?  Or the police?”

“Probably wants to see what happens.  My NPG thinks Newman has two seeds inside him too.  Three, maybe, given how powerful he is.”  Farha looked at Shallot.  “Are they friendly?  Is George?  Is he a new threat?”

Shallot hugged her again.  “My NPG says friendly.  All they want to do is live.  If the dome cracks, letting in the cold, they’ll freeze.  They have every reason to help us.  They would never last, underground.  Even if we moved them.  Which Newman would never allow.” 

“Maybe they knew better,” Shallot replied.  “Warm underground city, plenty of direct light.  Maybe they’d love it.  Maybe they’re just waiting.” 

George turned to them, smiling.  “Sorry I was away.  Oh look who’s here.  Shallot, they are very understanding.  Guess you can call me a real Martian now.  Wish I knew what that means.” 

He smiled, satisfied, he was finally here. 

He needed to make time for Shallot. 

He was only human.

Although he was satisfied, he could see Shallot was not.  That bothered him.  He could make her satisfied but had rejected the thought before entering the barn.  He wanted Shallot as herself, natural, with no influencing.  Just Shallot.

Because maybe he loved her. 

32

Consequences

They were all unsatisfied.  More, angry.

“What does this mean?” Wendy asked Peter. 

“It means the responsibility’s been dumped on us.  Because we’re grabbing it,” Peter muttered, standing next to her. 

“Because no one else is,” she replied.

They were at the New Council meeting, composed of elected workers from each worker group.  Also at the meeting were the Councillors, except Newman.  The Councillors were all nervous.  They weakly smiled, avoiding talking to anyone, which was fine with everyone because everyone ignored them.  They might as well have written on their foreheads: sell outs

The Water Workers were furious at the plans to pump Smelter pollution into the lava tube where they worked every day.  Dangerous to them, risky to the colonists, pipes and water.  Their mood was matched by the other workers crowding the large room.  Beyond unsettled.

The Dome workers were furious Newman had misrepresented the dome’s status.  That he lied to colonists about there being an immediate threat of unrepairable cracks. 

The Service workers were upset at the extra work Newman had created, colonists deeply stressed, random crimes being committed—often thefts of bottled water. 

The Farmers were upset lighting had not been resolved and water kept being disrupted.  The current crop most struggling. 

The Administration workers sent three representatives, who remained at the back of the hall, taking notes. 

After a few speeches–there was little need for speeches when everyone agreed–a consensus was clear.  Public statements, already prepared, would be made by each worker group about the truth.  Workers would discuss the situation with anyone they knew.  The TV news would be involved.  Their focus on solving problems was now on stopping Newman.

The first statement would come from the key engineers, that a hole in the dome was impossible to guarantee, with a 90% chance in three months of creating an unmanageable crack in the dome around the hole.  It concluded that Newman had ignored their concerns. 

A second public paper from other engineers would state that pumping Smelter pollution underground was feasible but the resulting pollution would not only make it difficult for the underground workers, and significantly damage the water pipes, certainly contaminate the ice from which water was drawn–it also would create an impossible environment in which to build an underground city and live in it.  They condemned the plan and stated Newman declared it with no consultation and had ignored their concerns. 

The Dome Workers would issue a public statement that the new sealant, while not as good, was reasonably durable and would continue to seal the cracks.  More work was required to keep the cracks sealed, but only more work.  For them, the larger issue was acquiring more workers.  The statement concluded they had discussed this with Newman and he had ignored their concerns. 

The Water Workers’ statement condemning the plan to pump Smelter exhaust underground as ultimately threatening the colony, not saving it.  The Farmers supported all statements.  The Air Quality Group doubled down, stating Newman needed to be removed and Council restructured.  Because he knew of these concerns, yet ignored them.

Applause in the room as the statements were emailed.  To all colonists.  To Council.  To Newman.

Newman watched the live feed of that main group on TV, in his living room, naked, fondling himself.  Self-pleasure was the only pleasure he received these days.  Yes–he had bitten off far more than he could chew, in fact he never chewed, just gulped it down.  He had been frustrated, was too ambitious.  He moved too quickly. 

He nodded.  Even made mistakes. 

Fight this before it grew out of control, if it hadn’t already.  He had to push this to the right side.  He pushed himself off the couch, wiped up.  He’d been impulsive but it was not too late.  Fix his mistakes, somehow.  Starting with not yielding to impulses.  Concentrating on shoring up his support.  Or divert the colonists, if catastrophe did not work? 

He could not reverse his public statements, cancel his plans.  That would be weakness, an admission of failure.  He must present strength.  Never admit error.  Never defeat.  Always fight back.    

George was in that damn barn, communicating with the plants.  Had to be.  Shallot probably with him.  He never sensed plants inside her, but who knew?  He knew the plants wanted to speak with him.  Even over the distance, they had reached out, many times.  Each time he shut them down, ignored their calls.  He had to stay away from them, despite the yearning from the three plants alive inside him. 

The plants were a fundamental danger, to him. 

He called Jim to his apartment, showered and dressed while waiting, made coffee and drank it while pacing, restless.  His aide knocked on the door within the half hour.  Sweating.  He’d apparently run. 

Jim sat across from Newman in the living room, wiping his brow.  Newman recharged him.  He needed it.  “Assume you’ve heard,” Jim finally managed.

Newman did not ask Jim what he thought Newman should do next—he’d suggest withdrawing.  Hiding.  Defeat.  “Call the worker reps on Council.  Tell them to come here.  To my home.  Not City Hall.  Now.”  He felt like strangling his aide, the idiot.  Newman wistfully remembered killing his aide in the game, several times.  Even after he converted him.  It was so satisfying.  As was making him murder that secretary.

I have to keep these impulses checked, he thought, or my escape ship will never be built.

The representatives—Newman had declared everyone was a representative, there were no longer Councillors–arrived quickly, fifteen minutes.  Newman wondered why his aide took longer—probably because he was frightened by the worker revolt and his inability to stop it, fearing Newman’s wrath.  Now he had been recharged.  Shock, powerful emotions, Newman had realized, eroded his control.

When they were all seated in his living room, half of them standing, nervously looking at him, they grew blank as Newman let them sip coffee and wait, while re-energizing them.  They were stressed, emotions needing to be calmed and controlled.  It took a while for so many.  He could only skim.

Finally, when their eyes returned to normal, he slumped back.  Looked at them.  They him.  He asked his key Administration pawn if she had heard anything from Shallot. 

“No,” Miranda replied.  “Nothing.  No note, no message.  I did what you asked.  I send texts, she doesn’t respond.”  She looked at Newman.  “I’m sorry.  I assure you, it isn’t that she’s my daughter.  I will contact you at once if I hear from her.”  She blinked twice, clearly hiding a struggle.

Newman nodded.  He wanted to hear her confirmation.  “And how is Admin?”

“Turmoil.  Besieged.  Administration was responsible for implementing the Council decisions.  And defending Council.  Suddenly there is a new Council.  So far, they have ignored us.  We exist to support them.  Staff believe their jobs and pensions are on the line.” 

The others nodded in agreement.  “They hate me,” a woman from the Smelter told him.  “Won’t talk to me.  Tell me I’m a stooge.  They don’t trust me–or you.”  She was trembling, tears in her eyes, despite being reconditioned. 

Strong emotions were very difficult to overrule.    

Newman stared at all of them.  They stared back.  Including Jim, his aide. 

“I am so sorry this is happening to all of you.  We worked together, for a common good.  I never wanted you hated.  I wanted you as leaders.”  They nodded, in agreement.  “I apologize.  To all of you.  Know I have a solution to help.  When you return to your workplaces, to your families and friends, here is what to tell them.  I hope it will help.  I will work to ensure it will. 

“Tell them your minds were temporarily affected for the past few weeks.  They already know.  That it may have been in the water.  That you are now finally clear.  That my mind was affected as well.  That is why we acted in ways which caused concern.  Where did that insidious control stem from?  Most likely, the Martin plants. 

“The Martian plants, growing on the farm. 

“For a while at least, they were strong enough to affect us.  For whatever reason, their influence has faded.  Probably only temporary.  They want to destroy the colony.  Have Mars for themselves.  Tell everyone that.”

They all said yes, becoming energized, far from enthusiastic.  Some of their tension had already faded.  Done with them, tired, disappointed he had not brought them completely back, Newman told them to go. 

After they left, Newman looked at Jim.  “You should have warned me about those public statements.  That this kind of revolt was possible.”

“I did.”

Newman glared at him.  Despite being re-energized, Jim showed defiance.  The road ahead might be rocky.  Newman’s confidence drained by the hour.     

Shallot sat on the bed with George, feeling rocky, her confidence, sense of self-worth rocky.  There was space between them.  It was quiet, they were alone in the barn, apart from a few workers at the animal pens, far away.  She had not spoken more than a few words with him.  He telepathically spoke with the plants, ignoring her.  Now they were in her room.  She was surprised he left them but he seemed to have had enough.  For now. 

She tried to understand.  He so needed space.  He had been through so much. 

Finally she asked, tentative, “What are you thinking about?” 

He turned to look at her.  “Sorry.  Sorry.  Not about us.  Off in space.  Or, on Mars.  The real Mars.  The one we invaded.” 

“Oh.”

“About the plants.  What life means to them.  What a plant thinks being alive means.  I know a lot of their history now.” 

“And?”

“I don’t know.”  He rubbed his arm.  “It’s a lot.  They are grateful we brought them to life again.  Planted them, nurtured them.  They find us interesting.  We build a colony, they a community.  The biggest difference is legs.” 

“…and what about us?” 

“Us?  The colonists?  Oh.  You mean…us.  Together.” 

“No, no, not that exactly.  I don’t want to pressure you.  You’ve suffered so much.  It’s just that, before…the last time that morning in my bedroom…I said no.”

He hugged her.  She was surprised but welcomed it.  “I’m super fond of you.  Very.”  Then he pulled away.  “But Shallot, it was different before.  My hormones were crazy.  Being horny is the last thing I’m thinking of now.  That sudden, well, lust faded in the first days at the Clinic.  If I’m thinking about a personal relationship, it’s about Mars.  Human sex or growing from seed?  After talking with them, I kind of feel strange about sex.  It’s so invasive.  Can you understand?”

“Not quite.”  She felt relieved but not.  George was creepy.  Chatting with plants was creepy.  On the surface, it was fine.  Perhaps it was all surface, nothing dark underneath.  Maybe it was her.  She had to get used to it.  Adjust.  She wanted to hug him and didn’t.  That would not be smart.  He might be alarmed or something.

Lately she had gotten little of what she wanted. 

“They probably know you’re here.  We’re here.  Are you staying?”

“Nowhere else to go.  And I’m not finished with the plants.  Is that okay?  Do you mind sharing the room?”  He turned from looking out the open door, to the plants, to look at her.  “I’m glad to be here with you.   I’d rather be here, with you, than with any other person.”

“Really?” 

“I’m sorry.  It must be very strange.”

“This is all strange.  You’ve changed.” 

“Worried I’ll influence you?  Change you?  That I already have?  Would you have those worries if I’d changed you?”

She looked at him.  “No.  You wouldn’t.  Of course.  I’m sorry.”  She ran her hand through her long hair, nervous.  He continued to look at her.  She liked him focussing on her.  “What about Katie?”

“You mean competition?  I’m not thinking that way right now.”  He smiled.  “She’s my plant partner.  That’s all.” 

Nothing she could think of to say sounded right, so she said nothing. Now she was sharing her room with him.  Her bed.  That might distract him with his plant obsession.  She had feelings for him, growing feelings.  The feelings were good but disturbing.  They felt as if alien emotions and thoughts were inside her–difficult to understand, impossible to control but totally natural.  For Shallot, new emotions and thoughts.

This was not a slippery slope.  This was an elevator, speeding past every floor until it reached the top. 

33

Returning Home Again

Katie walked home slowly.  Everyone she passed was agitated, upset, concerned.  She felt their emotions.  Katie herself was calm.  The plants inside her were calming.  Plants are calm.  Even in a storm.  She felt good.  

She stopped one woman she vaguely knew and asked why she was upset.  The woman told her, “Moving underground and now the plants, of course,” and the woman hurried on.

She reached her home, the house where she grew up, from infancy.  Lights were on inside.  Her parents were home—part of walking slowly was that she would arrive after their shifts usually ended.  They would be preparing dinner.  Would they be surprised!  Their daughter, sole child, released and coming home!

Katie smiled and opened the door. 

Inside smelled of fresh baked cookies. 

She loved her parents, even though they frequently argued with her–which they told her was part of growing up.  They got along well enough, and they loved her, their only child.  Their main focus had always been on her.  In the rest of the world, she was often nervous, never receiving the attention she believed she was entitled to. 

Her parents, were done setting plates in the dining room (her mom thought it inappropriate to eat more than breakfast in the kitchen), had food on the table and had just sat down.  When she walked in, they looked up. 

“The Clinic told us you’d been released.”  Her mother was unusually reserved. 

“You okay?” her father asked.  Her father was cool.  He often was distant.

“Those things, are they still inside…” her mother added, trailing off. 

They both stood, studying her.  Their reaction was no surprise, she had been in the Clinic.  She smiled her cheeriest best.  “I’m fine.  In remission or something.  I have, well, here it is.  I have Martian plants growing inside me.  They share with me.  I provide nourishment, an environment sort of.  They provide me with their point of view.  They think it is really cool when I walk.” 

Her mother began shaking.  Her father asked, stiff, “Say what?  Martian plants, inside you?  The Clinic never told us anything.” 

“They called today,” her mother added.  “Said you’d been released.  Suggested I bake cookies.”  They moved away from her as she approached. 

“It’s okay,” she quickly told them.  “They aren’t hurting me.” 

“Will they hurt us?” her father demanded.  “How do we know you’re not hypnotized by them or something?  Or that you’re you?  That you’re not infecting us?”

Katie stopped.  She expected concern for her.  This was fear for them.  “Mom, Dad, I’m me.  Okay.  Why are you afraid?  You know it isn’t contagious, right?  What’s going on?”

“Our friends.  Co-workers.  The TV news,” her father told her evenly.  “The plants have been influencing people.  They’re why Newman seemed power hungry.  We’re all worried about them.  What they’re up to.  What they’ll do next.” 

“Tell us,” her mother asked, shaking.  “Is this war?  Are they taking Mars back?”

They backed away farther.  Katie stood hands open, shocked.    

“Maybe you should return to the Clinic,” her father said.  “You’re not safe here.  People see you as a danger.” 

“I’m sure we can make it work.  Once people see I’m just me.” 

“You heard your father.  How do we know you’re you?”

Unable to do anything else, she abruptly entered their minds and calmed them.  In a few minutes, they sat comfortably in their chairs, back at the table, sitting with her.  Their eyes were glazed.  Immediately she regretted her action.  She did not want it this way.  She uncalmed them, retreating.  Did they know?

Her father’s gaze was cold.  “What the hell was that?”

“Did you do something?” her mother asked, angry.  “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Katie stood, backing away, again holding our her hands.  “You were so angry.  I just wanted it to be calm, so we could talk.  I’m sorry.  I swore I wouldn’t, but I did.  I won’t again.  You’re just so angry!” 

“The daughter I raised,” her father said evenly, “would never have thought of altering my mind.”

“You swore you wouldn’t,” her mother added, icy, “but you did.  Bent us to your will.  What’s next?”

They were right, that was the worst part.  She fled them and her home, crying.  Finally straightening, wiping her tears, she found herself on the sidewalk in front of the house.  People she knew walked around her.  It was her neighbourhood.  People she’d chatted with, partied with, now avoiding her, giving her a wide birth on the sidewalk. 

Shunning her. 

She clouded the minds of those around her, so they did not notice her.  Their faces brightened immediately.  That made it easier.  She started walking.  She could not remain here.  Her parents might come outside any moment and shout she was a monster.  They were probably calling the police right now.  She had been freed from the Clinic, but now she could be charged, with assaulting her own parents. 

She walked away, slowly, crying again.

Her parents watched, through the window.  Then her father picked up his cell and called the police, not wanting to but needing to do something.  His daughter had done something to them, her own parents.  Who knows what the plants inside her would make her do next?  The plants were dangerous, he had seen it for himself.

An hour later, as he spoke with the police, the TV news crew arrived, and he also talked with them. 

Katie’s mother patted his back and offered the police and news crew fresh cookies. 

34

Anger Flares When Fanned

“There’s no need for confrontation.”  Cary met the large angry crowd at the front gate, two security officers beside him.  They were not armed.  “Welcome to the Farm.  We heard you were coming.  I am here to help.”  Murmurs.  “Why are you here today?”  

“To see those plants,” Antonio, representing the Smelter, told him.  “To see for ourselves, after all the rumours.  Are they a threat?”

“No.  They are no threat,” Cary calmly replied.  “And yes, of course you can see them.”  The metal fence between them opened, the gate parting.    

Miranda stood next to him, representing Administration, added, “Thank you.” 

Cary smiled, dealing his discomfort in front of a mob best he could.  “Everyone can see them.  But space is limited.  Can we start with a group of twenty?  Start with those in front?”  He backed away, pointing to the locked barn.  The crowd members looked at each other, murmuring, then about twenty in front self-selected themselves and stepped forward.  Among them were the new workers’ representatives to Council, hoping to earn trust. 

He led them to the barn, the front door open, waiting.  “We normally keep the door locked.  I am in here every day  Nothing has ever controlled me.  Or tried to.  The plants have never attempted anything on any farmer, as far as we know.  Yes, the plants are strange.  Marian.  We all agree, just looking at them is…unsettling.  Alien.  When you look at them, do not be alarmed.  As you are aware, they have eyes.  Knowing and seeing is different.”   And he led them inside. 

They walked around the palettes to the large field.  Some gasps as they saw the plants for the first time, in person.  Soon they were only steps away.  Standing near them was George.  Shallot stood nearby.  They both were farmers’ clothing.    

George looked confident as they approached, smiled when they stood near him.  He appeared healthy, normal.  He smiled.  “Hello,” he said to them.  “I’m George.  I was in the Clinic.  I have plants growing inside me.  Some of you, you grew up with me.  Or know me.  As you can see, I’m still me.  George.”

Some stared at him, others the plants, actually both, eyes darting back and forth, from his eyes to the plants’, the plants’ eyes all fixed on them.  Unblinking. 

“I’ll answer your questions,” George told them.  “Any questions.  If the first one is, can I influence people?  The answer is, yes.  Let’s be upfront about that.  Have I influenced people?  Yes.  At the Clinic.  To get a better lunch.”

Murmurs, then silence.  The colonists were drawn to the plants now, never having seen them up close.  After years of the occasional TV feature and rumours, here they were.  Large, over five feet.  Orangey brown thick stalks and broad orangey red leaves.  Large, unblinking eyes, staring at them.  More eyes than they’d imagined.  Every plant had seven or eight.  All staring at them.

Miranda and Antonio remembered watching George walk out the door with two Clinic staff, thinking he would be dead within a week.  They were already angry at the plants, Newman told her and everyone the plants were dangerous. 

Now, standing in the barn–they were just plants. 

Despite those eyes. 

Shallot, standing away from the group, seemed fine, but despite Newman, her focus was on George.  “George,” Miranda said to him.  “Honestly, I never thought I’d see you again.” 

His smile was gentle.  “I’m not only alive, ma’am.  I feel fine.  I was released.  They told me I could go anywhere.  I came here.  Like all of you, I had to see these things myself.  That’s pretty much the whole story.” 

Nodding.  The colonists all felt calmer, willing to listen.  No longer stormy.  What they saw was not what they had been told, felt like no threat.

“Turns out,” George continued to the group, “I survived being infected because two plants are inside me.  One, you’re a goner.  The plant draws too much energy.  The plant is only a seed.  It knows nothing, except to survive.  The seeds are not trying to harm their host.  They’re not aware, really.

“But with two, as they grew and finally settled, somewhere in my chest, I felt stronger, not weaker.  Yes, I have alien plants inside me.  Do they have telepathic powers?  Do I?  Yes.  But I assure you the powers are very limited.  I have to be a few feet away.  The plants and I are too far away to affect any of you.  Right?  You feel okay, right”

More nodding.

“As you can feel, the plants radiate calm.  After all, they are plants.  It is their nature.  They only become agitated when the environment changes.  Deep cold.  No water.  A bad storm.  In here, they are protected.  They know we protect them.  They have zero reason to harm us.  They are simply happy to be able to grow and live.”

Murmurs. 

“We were told they are dangerous,” Antonio said to him, holding Miranda’s hand. 

“They only grew from the seeds because we brought warmth.  Warmth and water.  If the colony fails, the plants will die.  The last thing they want to do is destabilize us.  No, they are desperate to help us.  Influencing Council, influencing Councillor Newman?  Why?  Why destabilize us?  They need us.  Second, you have to be close to them, and Councillors have not visited this barn for years.  Until today.” 

The people in the crowd looked at each other.  Rather than anger, shrugs.  His explanation made sense.  He obviously was okay.  They felt fine, nothing influencing them. 

George asked for questions. 

How did he feel?  What was it like, alien plants living inside him?  What sort of telepathic powers?  Had he used them?  Was he going to die?

He answered patiently.  Shallot shifted on her feet, watching, uncomfortable  He lied smoothly. 

By then Cary had entered the barn and seen most of it.  The group was satisfied, he led them back out as they chatted with each other.  George watched them go, smiling.  When the door closed, Shallot stepped towards him.  To her, he radiated power, in the best way. 

“You hear?” he asked.

“They’re no longer angry.”  She walked up to him and took his offered hand.  It felt strong in hers.  Reassuring.  “And the plants?”

“I couldn’t do it alone.  They can work such a large group, so quickly.  They want us stable, Shallot, not afraid.  They agreed to help.”  He squeezed her hand.  “No one but me, maybe Katie, understands them.  There were no animals on Mars.  Just plants.  These survived, through their seeds.  They are not used to animals, they have their ancestors’ memories.  How we move.  That we move.  Living movement around them makes them…unsettled.  It’s unnatural.

“It’s taken decades for them to get used to us.” 

They stood together looking at the plants, which looked back.  Shallot did not feel calm.  Apparently, the plants saw no need to influence her.  Good.  This was hardly a calm time.  She did not like him using his power, even though with the crowd it seemed necessary.  Anger was no good.  “What’s next?” she asked. 

“Another group in a few minutes,” he replied.  “I’ll do them all.  Today will be busy.  The plants are looking forward to the colonists being happy, calm.”  He radiated confidence.

She gripped his hand.  “You were strong.  Powerful.  A leader.”  She squeezed again, his hand was so strong.  She loved his wrists.  Loved looking at him.  He was more than cute.  Shallot felt…a warmth.  A warmth she had never felt before.  A warmth inside her.

She knew what it was. 

Squeezing her hand, he looked at the plants.  Probably he was communicating with them.  Planning a better future.  Before uncertain, now Shallot felt confident.  George knew what he was doing.  And she was certain he had not influenced her, apart from him just being himself. 

She heard footsteps approach outside and let his hand go, reluctantly, retreating to her room, partially shutting the door. 

She looked at the bed. 

Lying on it right now was a poor idea. 

Anyway, she couldn’t be so passive.  So she stood against the wall, by the partly open door, breathing fast, looking out. 

She felt less guilt about that morning.  George had no problems with it at all.  And it had been better, waiting.  Until the right time. 

Like, now. 

Or when all these crowds stopped.  And he could focus his attention on her. 

Was now the right time?  The warmth.  She’d felt aroused before but never like this.  She imagined them together, but stopped.  That seemed creepy.  Although them lying together on a sandy, tropical beach, water lapping at their feet, birds in the background, the ocean free of sharks…

She heard the barn door open and another group walk in.  She peeked.  Farha led this group.  The group was less angry—they must have already heard a little from the first group.  She peeked out a bit more.  George began his speech. 

Oddly, it was almost exactly the same.

She shut the door, sat at the desk.  The notebook was running, the game open.  Messages waited for her.  She did not bother to read them.  How could George be so decent, honest and also devious?  Deceptive?  She knew she was falling for him.  Was she falling into a pit? 

She looked at her messages.  One was from the Martian Plant NPG.  Don’t worry.  It lasts only a few days.  They are only calmer.  They needed to think more clearly. 

A message from her NPG.  She responded. 

I’m confused, her NPG texted back.  About George.

Yes, it is manipulating them but—

Not that.  How I feel.  About him.  Before, I never felt anything, not truly.  It was whatever the programme required.  Now I feel all warm and weird around him.  Realistically, he can be creepy.  These feelings are disturbing.  Before, I think my feelings were pretend. 

Yes.  I’m not sure where this is going. 

Oh, kiddo.  We know where this is going.  We aren’t on birth control.

Don’t be gross.

If we can’t be gross with each other, who can we be gross with?  Mom and Dad?

Don’t be gross.

You heard about Katie?  Going home was a horror show.  Her parents afraid of her, because of the fear Newman stirred up about the plants.  She’s alone now.  Not sure where, we’re trying to track her.  See if we can help.  Her NPG is walking in circles, crying.  Won’t talk to anyone. 

She may return to this barn.  She hasn’t much choice.  What about Katie?

Usually we are directly connected to our player.  Not this time.  Maybe the emotions are too great.  We’ll solve it. 

And the fear of the plants?

Here, the colonists have already spoken with the plants.  They understand, even knowing they were calmed, the plants are benign.  Now we’re all angry at Newman, for lying yet again, this time about the plants.

Understand.  Right now, all that feels far away.

Shallot put the notebook to sleep.  She heard another group of colonists come into the barn, heard George again begin his speech. 

She should be out there with him.  He was working hard, trying to make a difference.  She was being stupid. 

Shallot left her room and went back outside, to stand near him. 

His work was difficult.  She should support him.

Also, she was his…girlfriend.

35

Bad Moon Rising

Throughout the colony, people talked–for the first time, perhaps, as a community–not about Marsball.  They worried about the plants.  Newman.  The dome.  The air.  Living underground.  Living underground with Smelter exhaust.  Talking about where they were and where they were being led and whether it made sense.  They felt lied to, manipulated.  What would happen next?  What would they be told next? 

Did their leaders know the difference between truth and lies? 

Make Mars Great Again–its sole impact now was to create scorn.  Newman, sitting in his office, having made his daily rounds, knew that.  He had stuck his neck out and felt the approaching blade.  Using the plants as a diversion backfired almost immediately.  He sat alone.  He should have realized. 

Jim.  He blamed Jim, for not warning him.  He had heard the many antagonistic murmurings focussing on him, the new leader.  He made himself the face of everything, didn’t he?  This blowback was predicable.  But dangerous.  Something had to change.  Colonists had to feel secure, stop feeling threatened, under siege, waiting for the next disaster.  Yet disaster was all that united them.  To rebuild and keep going, he needed a disaster.  Something bad.  That was always a diversion.  With luck, the colony would hand him one.  It would be a miracle, but miracles do occur. 

Underground, in the deep lava tubes, Wendy and Peter were finishing a weld, water shut off in that pipe until they were done.  About thirty feet away, another two workers finished welding in a new patch and signalled water was a go for them.  Wendy heard the deep rumbling of the pumps, felt the ground tremble as unfrozen water rapidly approached—them!  Water was pulled into their pipe. 

Weary workers had turned on the wrong pump.

Suddenly turgid streams of water burst from the unfinished weld, the iron patch thrown up, bouncing off the lava tube ceiling.  Wendy radioed for the water pumps to stop but it was already too late.  The burst widened, doubling the raw open wound before the pumps were shut down.  The cavern was a disaster area, again, covered in ice. 

Water had to be completely shut off until the failure could be evaluated and which pumps should now be used.  When the water stopped flowing, the steam plant shut down.  Emergency lights flared on across the colony. 

Up above, at the opposite end of the colony, Dan and Warren hung from the dome, desperately applying new sealant to a widening crack, the dome under pressure from a heavy sandstorm.  The new sealant eroded against the pressure of the wind as they applied it.  It had no chance.  Even thick coatings struggled, and they were almost out of the new sealant. 

They watched as the crack widened, connecting to a new crack above them, within reach.  The fierce winds blasted sand onto their place plates.  The crack was only two inches long, one wide.  Warren desperately called for more dome workers and more sealant.  By the time help arrived, their suits were brown and dusty and they could barely see through their face plates. 

Below them they did not see it but a jury-rigged filter on one of the Smelter’s stacks blew, belching unfiltered crap into the air.  Workers there ran, grabbing face masks.  They had no replacement filter ready.

The three new crises, accompanied with again no water or power and now brown Martian dust rushing through the dome—disasters which were immediate—not in the future but affecting everyone now. 

Council met within an hour of the third failure.  Newman sat in Madeline’s chair as the members came in.  Madeline and Sally came in with the others, but sat along the wall, Madeline these days only an observer.  Newman watched them all walk in.  All shaken.  Conditioning them as they entered and sat and looked at him, and then the table.  For the first time, re-energizing failed.  They were too upset.  Too many upset, too deeply upset.  He had to stop himself from glaring at them. 

Failure was not an option.  Failure was never an option.  Nor was retreat. 

He felt Madeline’s eyes on his neck.  His forehead was damp but he didn’t wipe it.  Weakness.  Then he did wipe it, as not wiping it also showed weakness.  He stilled himself, trying not to sweat.  He looked ahead.  Defeat stared calmly back. 

He would never win, not here, not today. 

He spent the afternoon trying to address the continually worsening events–talking and texting with Committee representatives and key workers he controlled.  Everyone was angry.  Challenging him.  They were already difficult to control.  The new burst water pipe and crack in the dome made it far worse.  They looked at him, waiting.  Barely controlled, some not at all.  There were too many to concentrate on.  He was surrounded.

He had to not think of this meeting as a trap. 

He began by updating them on the water, power and dome situations.  He stressed his understanding of colonist discontent.  With extra effort, he told them the new crack had been sealed but the Dome Workers were exhausted.  And angry.  As were the Water Workers.  The workers in the Smelter were angry they were causing more bad air because of the production the colony demanded.  Even Administration was finally upset. 

He forced himself to be patient.  This meeting was crucial.  He reminded them he had been right about the dome.  Smelter pollution was worse than ever, validating his plans to pump the exhaust underground.  As for the plants, could they not have made people visiting them think they were harmless?

He saw they bought the first two.  Not the plants.  They had all visited the barn that day.  The plants, Marjorie said, interrupting the silence, were just plants.  They could not move.  And they depended on the colonists for warmth and food.  She looked at the other Councillors and reminded them of what they all seen.  Nothing evil. 

He realized the plants had influenced them all, probably stopping him from calming them. 

Marjorie looked at Newman, who for the moment appeared lost for words.  They were all looking at him.  She was not sure where he was looking.  Off in space?  “What are you looking for?  Scapegoats?” she asked, snapping him out of it.  She put down her knitting.  “None of us believe the plants are a danger.  Why choose them as your scapegoat?  Of course, you’ve also thrown in Smelter pollution, the dome and moving underground.”  She leaned forward.  “Most of us don’t believe those issues are the real danger facing us today.  We believe that you have plants growing inside you.  That you have been influencing colonists.”  She stared at him.  “That you are our real threat.” 

Whoa.  Direct confrontation.  “Are you serious?  You know me.”

“Yes,” Madeline added, “we do.  That’s the point.” 

The confrontation, the demand, was empowering.  He returned their glares, serious, engaged.  “Yes.  I have a plant growing inside me.  So far, it has not changed me.  Yes.  I’ve made mistakes.  Certainly I wanted power.  I was so eager to lead.  No longer.” 

He paused.  Their glares softened very slightly.

“I have lost your trust.  I deserved to lose it.  I’ve faced reality.  I regret my mistakes.  My many mistakes.  There is only one action I can take.  I resign.  Withdraw.  Leave.  Now.” 

They blinked, including Madeline sitting behind him.  She expected defiance.  Not bailing.  Not retreating.  This was not him.  “You’re resigning?” she asked, unbelieving her words, out loud. 

“I need time to think.  Reassess.”  They listened.  He appeared humble.  “As for Council itself, I suggest to you it is now irrelevant.  Ignored.  The new Councillors have been treated horribly.”  The new Councillors nodded.  “The workers’ organizations have the power.  I believe they will succeed.  They will coordinate work and resources far more efficiently.  I suggest we help them.  And the best way to do that is for the entire Council to also resign.” 

By then, all of the Councillors were nodding, including Marjorie.  What Newman told them not only made sense, most had already come to that conclusion.  Especially the new Councillors, desperate to regain friends and standing.  Madeline, by the wall, understood where Newman was likely going, but could only watch him play his hand. 

Newman stood, leaning forward on the table, looking at them.  “This will be very difficult for me.  Talking to you today has been difficult.  It will be harder to go on live TV to announce this.  First, I suggest one of you go on TV and announce that the entire Council has resigned.  That is background.  Then I will follow and take responsibility for my mistakes.  Entire responsibility.”  He looked down at the table, then into their eyes.  “To feel good about myself, I have no choice.” 

“Fine.”  Marjorie picked up her cell and called, then looked at  him.  “TV will be here in minutes.  They always have a standby crew downstairs.” 

Newman nodded.  “Excellent.  Do we have more to talk about?  Anyone?”

Dead silence. 

Madeline finally stood.  “Councillors, I urge you to reconsider.  This is abrupt.  Give it a day.  Think about it.  Council could still serve a purpose.  We have a structure already in place.  We do not have to reinvent the wheel.” 

Zero.  They all wanted out. 

A two person TV crew came into the boardroom, a host and cameraperson.  There was no set up, apart from the camera being turned on, the sound tested.  Then the host looked at Marjorie.  Marjorie told her, “Open it, then I’ll speak first.”    

The host nodded, then turned to the camera.  “Hello, I am Jane Withers.  We are interrupting programming with this live broadcast from City Hall.  We have been told a special announcement is forthcoming from Council.”  She looked at Marjorie.  “Councillor Madras?”

The camera pointed at Marjorie. 

“Good morning.  I speak for the Council.  We are in the midst of yet more difficulties.  Power and water remain unavailable, possibly for days.  We believe the colony is better served by the workers themselves coordinating resources and repairs.  Given the situation, which is desperate, Council has decided to disband.  All of the Councillors have resigned.  We trust the colonists.  This is sudden.  I am sure we will have more to say in the days ahead.” 

She never managed a smile, though she tried. 

“I believe Councillor Newman has something to add.” 

The camera turned, focussing on him. 

He faced the camera.  “I have made many mistakes.  Many.  Because I was arrogant.  I apologize to you, Marjorie, and to Council.  And to our former Mayor.  You voted to do what I suggested.  I wanted to make Mars great again.  I believed I knew what to do.  I was very wrong. 

“I was overwrought.  About the dome.  Which actually did develop a crack, despite the new sealant.  And the fumes from the Smelter, which have grown worse when a main filter failed, as I predicted.  And the water, which I feared was under threat–and, again, it is.  I feel horrible and humbled that these destructive events continue.  You had my best efforts.  They were clearly not enough.  

“I am retiring.  Retiring from Council, from politics.  Honestly, I do not think it suits me.  I will continue to work, perhaps with the Smelter workers, as they are the key to all production.  As for the plants, they are harmless.  Let’s leave them be.  Good-bye, and again I hope you accept my apologies.” 

He stopped.  Took a breath.  Everyone in the room, except Marjorie and Madeline, gave him respectful applause.  He was sad, humbled.  They all filed out until Newman was left alone, with Jim. 

“You’re retiring?”

“I told them what they had to hear.”

“Uh—am I still working for you?  Do I still have a job?”

“I’ll pay you out of my own pocket.  I need you.”  He looked at Jim and smiled.  Jim remained in his pocket.

“Thank you.  I’m committed to you.”  Of course he was.  “But.  You apologized.  Isn’t that weakness?”  Nervous, confused.

“They should have apologized to me.  I was in a corner, had to do something.  Something dramatic.  Something that bought me some time.  The whole Council resigned.  Now I’m only one who quit.  Not singled out. 

“I’ll stick in their minds.  Soon the colony will realize my mistakes were not mistakes.  Meanwhile, they will be diverted.  I need more time.”  He sighed.  It was not supposed to be this difficult.  “I want to talk with that kid, George.  And Shallot.  But not in that barn.  Not near the plants.  Can’t go within a hundred feet of them, understand?”

“Yes, sir.  I’ll get them to see you here.” 

“In my office?  No.  I shouldn’t have an office.  At my apartment.”

“I’ll contact them as soon as I leave.”

“Good.  Jim.  You’ll be a greater help to me than ever.  The next couple of weeks will be difficult.  Stick with it.” 

“Yes, sir.  Of course.  I appreciate your saying I’m a help, out loud.”

“I don’t do that, do I?”

“No.”

“I shouldn’t have to.”  He looked at Jim steadily.

“Yes, sir.  If I may, what will you be doing?” 

“Winning them back.  Circulating among the colonists.  Acting respectful.  Humble.  I came close.  Went overboard.  Panicked.”  No, he could not admit that.  “Almost but I never panicked.”  He could not admit it, even to Jim.  “Let the workers shoulder the blame for the colony failing.  I’ll be in the wings.”  He looked around the boardroom.  “I’m packing what I need from my office, then heading home.  I can’t kill anyone in the game.  Maybe I’ll finally have a moment to jerk off.”

“Yes, sir.  Of course, sir.  You need to jerk off.  Uh, relax.” 

Jim hurriedly left. 

Lust, On Mars Chapters 19-24

19

Murder on Mars

A murder in the colony was terrible–but had been usually limited to domestic violence: couples in love killing each other because they loved each other.  But a random murder?  Without love?  Colonists were shocked.  Four murders over the past two hundred years, all domestic disputes-this was the first without any clear motivation.  If not love, hatred?  Phyllis had no enemies.  Her murder was irrational, illogical–which made it terrifying. 

Fear grabbed everyone.

Such things do not happen on Mars!  Earth?  Sure.  But Mars?

Shallot and her besties heard about it from a colony news broadcast.  Entering the game, they found the NPGs horrified.  The murder occurred at the same time in the game and real life.  That was bizarre.  Not possible.  Game events occurred first in real life, caused by a player’s actions.  First the NPGs were ahead of the real colony about the election.  Was the murder in the colony first, or in the game?  Why Phyllis?  The NPGs were rattled.    

Shallot felt a new urgency to protect the NPGs and the colony that was her home.  Her NPG told her she was frightened.  That she did not want to be murdered.  Especially now that she felt so alive.  What had happened to safeguards in the game preventing violence?

Shallot typed she’d ask her grandfather.  Murder!  Worse, the police had arrested Mike, her Nan’s aide.  This was a terrible blow to her credibility—and to Nan personally.  Shallot knew of Nan’s relationship with Mike.  Someone was behind this.  Who?  Why? 

Newman walked with Antonio through the Smelter, chatting with the workers.  Newman did most of the chatting.  For once, the workers talked not of production problems or colonist dislike, but of the murder.  Newman told them it was a challenge they all must face.  That the murder demonstrated the stresses afflicting the colony.  And that he knew the path to justice.

Newman had dropped by unannounced, announcing to Antonio he would represent the plant and its workers to the colony.  Antonio shook his hand and said sure.  These days, he liked Newman.  Wanted to hear his opinions.  More, Antonio’s role was to protect the Smelter and Newman was a consistent supporter.  Newman liked walking through the Smelter, especially the plant floor, feeling the searing heat from the molten metal, chatting with the workers, connecting with them.  Antonio had seen it often, the last couple of weeks. 

Newman had attracted followers, including Antonio.  He exuded a power Antonio and others could not deny.  Did not want to deny.  A powerful leader would be such a relief! 

Newman was still there when the Smelter workers broke in the afternoon for a group meeting.  They met on the floor of the smelter, the largest open area.  The meeting was as fiery as the molten iron around them.  Antonio stood with Newman, listening as worker after worker said the colony was falling apart and only production from the plant would save it.  Would keep the water flowing.  Would keep the power on.  Even the dome, as the plant manufactured the sealant used on cracks.  The workers were tired of being disrespected, tired of the equipment breakdowns, tired of being blamed for pollution.  Everything depended on the smelting plant.  Newman encouraged the discussion and suggested they send a motion to Council and the other groups that the Smelter had earned top priority and should have a veto power over all colony decisions. 

Applause.   

Moved: To ensure safe working conditions and respect, the other worker groups should be informed immediately that the Smelter should have a veto over any colony activity related to use of resources.  Otherwise, Smelter workers will halt production.

Passed unanimously.  Applause.  Applause now directed towards Newman.

Newman nodded his approval, smiled and waved. 

The Smelters’ new position was transmitted to the other worker groups at once.  One of the Smelter workers told Newman he could talk with Council–but who cared?  Council no longer mattered.  This was, Newman was told, democracy in action. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” he replied.  “You need strong leadership to get you through this.  You have it.  And if you want help, brothers and sisters, I am always available.”  He made a short speech, to enthusiastic applause, how they could solve problems on their own, that they did not need him or any other politician. 

The Farmers’ group was first to reply, almost instantly, as the meeting was about to end.  The Farmers also demanded a veto and colony priority, noting Smelter workers needed to eat.  If the Farmers’ demands were not met, they wrote harvesting would be delayed.  Food would stop. 

The Underground Workers replied they also wanted a veto, noting all workers had to drink.  The Dome Workers were inspired to also demand a veto, noting none of the colonists would live long if the dome cracked and solar radiation poured in (along with Martian air.) 

The Administration Workers replied they were neutral, wanted more information for a study of the situation and were considering preparing a report, which would include graphs. 

The Health and Service Workers sent an email, advising they had formed their own group that morning.  Their members included workers in the Clinic, hospital, paramedics and police.  They did not say they wanted a veto, but noted they may be selective to whom they provided services–including emergency medical services.  The Police group demanded that every colonist receive identity cards bearing their photographs and fingerprints.  Given the murder, colonists had to be tracked and surveyed. 

After all groups conferred via a video conference, members from every group agreed to create a new group: the Air Breathers, which would focus on pollution.  Also the Bug Group, which would focus on the strange disease affecting colonists.  The two new groups noted that breathing decent air and fighting the strange disease should have top priority and veto power. 

Video conferencing was then shut down.  This was getting complicated. 

There was a lot of discussion among the Smelter workers about how to proceed.  “We can’t all have top priority,” muttered Antonio.  “Has this become a pissing contest?” a worker nearby also muttered.  “Is democracy a pissing contest?”

Newman said loudly, “At the start we piss all over each other.  Jockeying, then compromising.  Stick with the plan.  See who caves first.”   

They started to discuss about whether alliances were necessary, and with whom, and starting when, and for how long, and what priorities should go to whom, but after a while were tired and had to return to work or go home.  They agreed to meet again, when another break could be created in the continuous shifts. 

Antonio and Newman walked back to Antonio’s office, Antonio’s eyes glancing at Newman to judge his reaction.  Newman was smiling.  In the office, Newman closed the door, Antonio sat behind his desk and sipped some coffee, made with bottled water.  He needed something warm in his stomach.  It would be tough at dinner tonight with his wife.  Administration objected to anyone but the Council having power.  Newman was clearly moving in another direction. 

Even home life was moving.  After Newman visited Administration, Miranda was more supportive, even held his hand.  

As Newman paced, silent, Antonio checked the game for what the NPGs were doing.  The workers had already formed the additional group organizations and a representative from each had replaced Council as the government.  In the game, the new group voted on vetoes.      

“Why are they ahead of us?” Newman growled.  “Stupid game shouldn’t be able to do that.  It’s supposed to follow us.” 

“They’re improving Smelter filters.  And production.  And starting to haul up dirt from the underground.”  Antonio looked Newman.  “Why are they hauling up dirt?” 

“To fertilize the fields,” Newman replied, looking at a poster of the colony.  Keeps the cost down, no trips outside.  Tons of dirt down below, in the lava tubes.  Fresh Martian soil will help the crops.”

“So you’ve been in the game?  You play it?”

Newman, smiled, an odd smile.  He ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair—an extension was loose.  “Been a player for almost a year.  It’s a great diversion.  Have you tried it?”

“I have, yes, starting recently.  I talk with my NPG.  Very informative.  Should I talk to yours?”

“No.”  Newman continued to smile. 

Antonio felt calm, even a little blank.  He watched Newman pace back and forth across the small office.  “What’s happening?  I feel strange.”

Newman paused to stare at him.  “You feel fine.  You feel okay.  You trust me.  And forget the game, Tony.  Don’t worry about the game.  Or the murders.  Leave that to me.  Concentrate on the Smelter.  And what the opposing groups do.”

“Opposing?”

“Everyone else.”   

Shallot spent much of the day in the game, motivated by the twin murders of the Phyllises, sitting on the couch in the living room downstairs while mom and dad were at work, notebook on her lap.  She still felt a mess.  Few of her friends phoned or texted.  Nothing looked or felt right.  The living room looked strange, the washroom felt cold, her bedroom was someone else’s.  When she phoned or texted, she had to speak in code.

Only the NPG Shallot was readily available, who shared her experiences and would understand, was not spying on her or being told to spy on her, or was simply avoiding her, absorbed in her own problems.  Hey, Shallot wrote her.  You must be doing better than me.  She managed a small smile for her avatar.  It’s been a while.  How r u?    

Is there any more about the murders? NPG Shallot replied, anxious. 

Not yet.  It’s all over the news.  Everyone’s rattled.    

Don’t know about your world but here there were witnesses.  Several.  They saw the murder.  An NPG strangling another NPG.  Then the murderer vanished, popping out.  We’ve learned that happened seconds before the murder in your world. 

Shallot NPG looked at real Shallot’s avatar.  We think the murder guy was one of you.  A real person.  Acting as a player.  Because in your world the same woman was murdered.  Mike’s in jail, for murder.  He acts confused.  You understand.  I’m so creeped out! 

Shallot’s mouth was open.  Criss cross.  Like that video, Strangers On The Smelter Train.  Can’t be.  What is done in the game happens here? 

We’re frantic.  I’m part of a team trying to figure it out.

I’ll start one also.  Wow.  Immense.  I’ll talk to my great grandad, he led the original development team for the game.  He must know about this by now. 

I spoke with his NPG.  Not a clue.  NPG Shallot stood, then sat back down and typed.  We used to have a handle on what was happening.  It always happened in your world first.  Now my friends are asking me if you have any answers. 

That’s what it’s come to?  A real person with answers?  Gimme a break.  NPG Shallot paused.  Sorry.  We talk about real people, players, as the source of problems they refuse to fix.  Then we have to deal with it.  Sorry. 

Shallot left the game and the house, taking her notebook with her.  She texted her great grandfather she was coming to visit.  He replied he always had time for her.  He welcomed her at the door, standing with it open, leaning on the doorframe, rubbing his leg as he watched her walk towards him.  He had a good idea why she was visiting.  They hugged and went into the kitchen.  He had prepared small sandwiches, with cucumbers, and a fresh pot of tea, next to it two empty waiting cups. 

“Grandad,” she said as soon as they sat, “you’ve heard about the murder?  Murders?”  He nodded.  “All the NPGs are alarmed.  They say it happened first in the game.  How?  Did it have anything to do with the real murder?”

“Yes.  This isn’t a kitchen discussion.”  He pushed himself up and limped into the living room, which he rarely lived in, and looked out the window at the small, struggling garden.  At the rose bushes.  She walked up to stand beside him, noticing even a little movement made him a little out of breath.    

“Cysts on my liver,” he said quietly.  “Presses against my diaphragm.  Who knew?”

Shallot touched his back. 

“We have to fix this,” he told her.  “And will.  Someone from here, a player, went into the game.  He created an avatar and used it to kill an NPG.  Maybe that could be done despite the anti-violence rules.  I talked this morning with the woman currently supervising the game.  Seconds after he killed the NPG, in real life her counterpart was also murdered.  The same way.  I’m told Mike denies now killing the woman.  He says he was only playing in the game. 

“The answer is a human player.  How?  A colonist who has unusual powers.  Mind control powers.  My first thought was, the Martian organisms we’ve ingested.  We know the Martian plants communicate, a form of telepathy.  Maybe one of us has gained that power.  And is using it.  I know it’s possible.  Don’t tell anyone, but it includes one of the Councillors.  She told me a few years ago.” 

He shook his head.  “It’s evil.  Doesn’t make sense, onion.  The game was supposed to help solve problems, for us to work together, colonists and experts.  Not as a way to kill.  Couldn’t have imagined years ago an NPG would murder another NPG.  That a colonist would use the game that way.”

“Telepathy?  Isn’t that kinda far out?”

“So’s living on Mars.”  He straightened.  “Can’t get farther out than that, eh, onion?  Whatever it is, we’re forced to work together, colonists and NPGs.  Working together on a disaster, as I figured.  First, find the murderer.  Stop more murders.  Solve the crime. 

“The original game had strict protocols preventing violence.  We anticipated it being used the wrong way by players, so we coded it to prevent murders.  But it’s complicated.  We’re looking now to see if other NPGs have been murdered.  The difficulty is that if the player is still alive the NPG may regenerate.  Come back from a bad dream, unaware of what happened.  And of course when a colonist dies, from natural causes or accidents, their NPG also dies.”  He sighed.

Shallot looked at her great grandfather.  “We should call Nan about this, I think.”

“I imagine she knows.”  He heard a chime, picked up his cell phone.  “That’s her.  The police are letting her see Mike, we are invited.” 

Shallot stood.  “Text her we’re on the way.  Let’s go.”  

He started towards the door.  “We’ll take my cart.  Isn’t fast, but it’ll get us there.” 

He appeared so frail at times.  “Are you up for this?” she asked, concerned. 

“Nope.”  He was out the door first.

20

The Two Mikes

Mars had never experienced a mystery.  Before Mike and Phyllis, it all was pretty obvious.  Madeline had Sally drive her to police headquarters.  She arrived at police headquarters, stunned, and went in, while Sally decided to remain discretely outside.

Mike?  A murderer?  He had many sides, some negative—but a murderer?  Impossible!  She thought she knew him!  Yet they said there was evidence.  And that he initially confessed, then withdrew his confession while still apparently acknowledging he had murdered Phyllis.  Evidence?  Her life had been difficult, now was worse, but this was a nightmare.  A new nightmare.  The rest was politics.  This felt beyond personal. 

The police called her after Mike was arrested and confessed, muddled though it was.  Not only was she the Mayor, he was her aide.  The Chief believed she should be informed.  The ride to the police station was dominated by her fear and confusion, and a sense of profound betrayal.

She was escorted by a waiting officer at the front desk to the Chief’s office, where took one long and suggested she sit.  He briefed her on what he knew so far.  During the talk Shallot and Madeline’s father joined them.  He repeated what he’d already told Madeline, then had the officer take them to a small viewing room with a one-way window facing an interrogation room. 

Through the window they saw Mike, sitting nervous at a table, hands cuffed behind his back, two police officers sitting opposite him while a third stood behind.  Mike’s eyes darted to the window, back to the officers.  Madeline’s heart sank, looking at him.  A few days ago, he exuded power.  Now she saw a wreck. 

He knew he was being watched, by guards in the room and through the glass by others, probably including his former boss and lover.   He shivered, haggard.  Confused, distraught.  Exhausted.

An officer looked at the window, nodded, shrugged.  Mike had said nothing new.

Madeline stifled a moan and leaned against a wall, looking at her former lover and aide under arrest, dripping guilt and confusion.  She could not stay in this room, watching.  She drew a deep breath, resumed her outer shell and walked out of the viewing room.  She did not pause in the hallway, opening the door to the interrogation room.  She strode inside, trying to harden herself, or at least prepare for this horrible situation.  But there was no way to prepare.  She closed the door behind her. 

She looked at the officers.  She wanted privacy, waving to the door.  They stayed where they were.  She did not ask them to leave. 

“Mike?” she asked, quiet, standing across the table from him.  He looked from the table to her.  Despite herself, she stiffened.  “Mike!  What the hell?  Talk to me.” 

He wiped his forehead, sweating.  “Sorry.  So sorry.  It’s nuts.  I hope this hasn’t made it worse for you.” 

“No, not at all,” she told him, trying to sound comforting.  “Mike.  Did you kill that woman?  Phyllis?  I knew her.  She worked a hundred feet from our office.” 

“Yes.  No,” he said quietly, shaking his head.  “I killed her but I didn’t.  Not in real life.  I never meant to kill her in real life.” 

“What do you mean?  I want to understand.  To help you.”  She pulled up a chair and sat opposite him, next to one of the officers.  Struggling not to be stunned.  Not to break down.    

“Three months ago,” Mike told her, “Newman turned me onto Mars and Me.  I’d never played a computer game before except shooters.  Never cared.  Never time to waste, my work is everything.  Was everything. 

Mars and Me.  It was so real.  Inspiring.  I could do anything there.  It was a game.  Not real.  I could do things I could never do here.  With no consequences.  It was only a game, what I did inside it would not matter.  One night, after a really rough day with Council, in the game I went to Newman’s house.  I strangled him.  Killed him.  His NPG.  I had figured out how to override the safeguards.  I could not use a weapon, but could kill with my hands.  All it took was doing it, to kill the NPG.

“I enjoyed it.

“It was a rush.  A release.  And it was only in the game.  Just pretend.”

Madeline sat listening, eyes narrowing, taking long deep breaths.  The officers did not bother to take notes–everything was being recorded.    

“The next day, Newman was there, as usual an ass.  When I checked, his NPG was in the game, as if nothing had happened.  The game regenerated him.  His death was not a fact.  His NPG did not remember me killing him.  I had killed him, with no consequences.  So, that night, I killed Newman’s NPG all over again.

“It was liberating.” 

He wiped his forehead with his hand again.  “Over the last weeks, in the game, I’ve killed each of the Councillors, Newman three times.  Never Marjorie, I like her.  Never you, of course.  That would be too weird.”

She raised an eyebrow at what he considered weird. 

“It was a…diversion.  Harmless.  I even killed NPGs I barely knew.  Mostly, it was revenge.  And, finally, satisfaction.  A few days ago, Phyllis messed up one of my reports and was…snippy.  Ugh.  Then you fired me.  Guess I was boiling over.  So I entered the game and strangled her.  It was no different than the other times, though I felt more charged up.

“Except this time, she was strangled in real life. 

“I was in my apartment, playing the game.  I didn’t know what to do.  I saw them coming for me.  They arrested me, brought me here and took tests.  My DNA was on her neck.   My DNA.  But I was in my apartment.  I did it but I didn’t.  Killed her but in the game, not here.”  He sighed.

“It was supposed to be harmless fun.” 

By now he returned to staring at the table, unable to look at her.  Madeline kept herself from shaking.  No idea what to say to him.  She started to lean forward to pat his shoulder, then pulled back.  She did not want to touch him.  This man had been inside her.  Now she did not want to be in the same room.

Madeline pushed herself up, feeling weak.  “This isn’t you, Mike.  I promise we’ll sort this out.  It has to be some kind of mistake.” 

“Yeah sure.” 

She stumbled out of the room, hand on the walls for support as she went.  Wishing she had brought her cane.  Or Sally, to lean against.   

One of the officers followed, looked at her, then stood in the open doorway.  Outside, she leaned against a wall, face in her hands.  When she took her hands away, she was dry-eyed.  “Yes, officer.  We had a relationship.  And I let him go as an aide yesterday.  Gave him a reassignment of his choosing.  I dumped him.

“That stupid damn game has leaked into the real world.  Murder in the game, evidence here.  There’s something horribly wrong.  You still investigating?” she asked him.

“Yes ma’am, we sure are,” the officer replied.  “One team’s tracking his history in the game.  And looking for evidence of other murders, at least in the game.  There’s solid evidence he did it.  DNA.  Witnesses.  Understand?”

“Completely.  Thank you.”  He nodded, pulled back into the room and shut the door.  Alone in the hallway, she began to shake, then finally cried.  For a moment.  Cutting it back to presentable as quickly as she could manage.  “Sweet mother of Jesus,” she muttered.  “What was he thinking when we were together?” 

She leaned against the wall, back to it.  On hearing footsteps, she took a mirror from her purse and checked her face. 

“I’m so sorry, hon,” her father said quietly. 

“No one’s fault.  Except his.  Thanks, dad.  Can’t say how awful this is.” 

“Can we do anything, Nan?” Shallot asked quietly.  

“Help me go home and get loaded,” Madeline replied, putting herself back together. 

“Really?” Shallot asked. 

“No.  Call another emergency Council meeting.  We may have to shut down that game.  Quickly.  Sally’s waiting outside.”  She saw Sally entering the hallway, concerned.  Madeline gathered her strength, straightened, moving away from the wall.  “Thanks.  Talk to you soon.”  She gathered her strength and walked away, towards Sally. 

“The cops called and told me,” Sally said, taking her arm.

“Jeez Louise.”

“Nan?”

Madeline did not look back but held up her hand and waved, then turned a corner and was gone, holding onto Sally.

Shallot looked at her great grandfather.  “I’m heading home,” he told her.  “Check the game, talk with my NPG.  Build new safeguards into the game, reassure the colony.  Before the game is shut down.  Sorry, you’ll have to get a lift.”   He hugged her and left.

Shallot stood alone in the hallway of police headquarters. 

Officers walked by, glanced at her i.d. visitor’s badge and continued walking.  They all had places to go, achievements to accomplish.  What was she doing?  She felt drained but not empty.  She slowly walked from the station, out into the colony.  Much to think about, and the crowded police station was hardly the best place, for example: had someone murdered her in the game? 

No—NPG Shallot would have told her, yes?  But no—the NPGs had not realized any NPGs had been murdered until Phyllis.  She was aware NPGs expired when their players died.  What if the player was still alive?  But she pushed those thoughts away.  She had to warn her NPG about the imminent danger to the game. 

She sat on the nearest bench, took her notebook from her backpack and entered the game.  She updated NPG Shallot, who was shocked.

Late last night we figured out several of us were murdered but were regenerated.  We’re researching the NPGs who had no memory for a day.  Creepy.  Stick with it, stay in touch.  Talk with your besties, see what you can do on your end.  NPG Shallot signed off, needing to inform the other NPGs the Mayor may shut down the game, starting by contacting Madeline’s NPG. 

Shallot no longer felt alone or drained.  What had she been thinking?  She was no emo!  She phoned Aaliyah, told her there was an emergency and they should meet with Farha immediately. Farha texted to meet her at the farm, where she now worked.  Half an hour later, they sat together in Farha’s office, Aaliyah on an extended lunch break after telling Marstan she was meeting with Shallot.  Time off for that was no problem. 

Shallot closed the door and told them about Mike and the murders and the threat to the game.  “I thought things would get simpler,” Shallot told them.  “Solutions would pop out.  Though Nan is going to have dirt brought up from the underground caves, just like game.” 

“Fresh soil and nutrients,” Farha said.  “One solution.” 

“Now the game itself is a problem.  If the murder issue is not resolved quickly, they’ll want to shut it down.  And we don’t want more murders in the colony, either.  So I have an idea for a temporary fix.” 

“And?” Aaliyah asked.   

“We need to misdirect the police, the colony, about the murder.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can either of you hack into security cameras?  Create videos from them?”

“Of course,” Farha replied, intrigued.  “We both can.” 

Hacking accomplished, they zeroed in on Mike’s apartment and street, then went back to the time of the murder.  Mike was not in his apartment.  From stored digital footage, they recorded him when he was at home earlier, playing the game.  Then they pasted that footage into the time frame of the murder, ‘proof’ he was somewhere other than the crime scene.  They saved and left.  When the police looked, which hopefully was not carefully, they would find evidence the real Mike was in his apartment. 

“The cops have his DNA on her neck,” Alyssia said.  “This won’t fool them long.” 

“Long enough,” Shallot replied.  “We need a day.” 

“Maybe he did it,” Aaliyah said.  “But that makes no sense.  How could he do it when the killing in the game was only seconds earlier?  If he wasn’t in his apartment playing, who was?” 

“Okay,” Shallot said.  “Agreed there’s a suspect, somewhere.  I suggest we meet with our friends.  In person.  The ones we trust to work with us.  Team up.” 

Aaliyah and Farha nodded.  “Tonight,” Farah said. 

“Couple of hours from now,” Aaliyah added.

“Agreed.  Maybe I should tell mom and dad,” Shallot said.  “Maybe we should each tell our parents.” 

“Are you kidding?” they replied.   “Let’s stick to people who know us.”

21

Shallot and Friends (Some of Them)

It was hardly a party. 

In only a few days, everyone’s life had changed.  Now everyone lived on a slippery slope, slowly sliding into darkness. 

Not all of her invites showed.  More than a few did not want to be around Shallot–rumours had spread she was involved in stirring the colony up and that the police were investigating her.  Similar concerns hounded Farah and Aaliyah.  The six who arrived were glum.  They all now sat in Shallot’s bedroom, nervous.  Shallot knew she would have to energize them.   

Her mom and dad were at the Marsball final.  So were many of the other parents, the rest watching it at home on TV.  Power and water had returned–but limited.  That was not reassuring—everyone now waited for tomorrow’s disruption.  They refilled water bottles, bathtubs. 

The young women sitting around Shallot’s bedroom had all grown up together, most from day care on up.  The initial chatter was no longer about sex or clothing or food.  It was about feeling nervous.  About whether one of them might be murdered next.  Some sipped synthol, some popped a Fizz.  Shallot, Farha and Aalliyah held bottles of water. 

Shallot told them about what had been learned, the concerns about the game and the murders, about the emergencies, the threat to the game and the colony.  “We’ve never had to meet like this.  Had a meeting like this.  Actually, ever had a meeting.  We’re here to find a way out.” 

One of her friends said, “I’m not sure I ever fit in, here or anywhere else.  I’ve spent years faking it.  Now, it’s like I have to face up to whatever I really am.  And I don’t know who I am.” 

Murmurs around the bedroom. 

“Speak for yourself,” another said.  “It’s growth crap.  Everyone goes through feeling alone.  Give it up, we’re sixteen.  Adults.  We can handle whatever they throw at us.” 

“We all wear the same damn clothes and make-up,” another chimed in.  “It’s all so fake.”

More murmurs. 

Shallot saw several pop more Fizz.  Others drank more synthol.  She wondered what they had ever talked about.  Stupid talk.  But didn’t stupid talk always have an undercurrent of the truth?  “Can we start with the murder?” she asked them.  “And what we can do, to ensure we’re safe?”

They were all long-time gamers and their NPGs kept them informed.  They’d already discovered some of what Shallot told them.  Some said they’d heard new evidence on TV affirming his alibi, video of him in his apartment when the real life murdered occurred.  Most of them wondered whether other players killed in the game like Mike did.  Whether the killings would spread to real life.  Creepy

Shallot used the murders to animate the group.  They were all involved, it was an immediate threat.  Shallot suggested they become a team and create lists of colonists—men—they suspected of secretly being capable of murder—in the game, perhaps in the colony.  They would work in teams, doubling up, investigating separately and then comparing results.  The meeting ended with the young women sharing hugs and most leaving, now having goals.  That left Shallot, Aaliyah and Farah. 

She looked at them.  “That worked out better than I’d hoped.  But they’re all so unhappy.  Were we always pretending?” 

“Sure,” Aaliyah told her.  “Weren’t you?  Weren’t we supposed to all be pretty and friendly?”

“It’s a start,” Farah said.  “We’re growing up.”    

‘Yeah, I guess.”  Why did she still feel no farther than the bottom?  “Sorry guys.  Maybe I should’ve popped a Fizz,” she finally said.

“We’re on the same page,” Farha said to her.  “Though I’m not sure what page it is.”    

“Not sure which book,” Aaliyah added. 

“What about our parents?” Shallot asked.  “How’re yours?  Mom and dad are already fighting.”

“Mine too,” Aaliyah told them.  “But it’s different.  They both work at Water.  They argue about how to get more resources, to stop the leaks. For them all, it’s immediate.  There are safety issues, too.  Mom and dad wonder about the dirt but as long as the diggers stay out of the way, fine.  They’re focussed on getting entire sections of pipe replaced.  Getting safer suits for the workers.  They think everything starts with water.  Can’t say I disagree.”   

“Mine are fine,” Farha said.  “Dad’s really worried about our food.  He gave me time to work with the NPGs, that’s where bringing up soil from underground came from.  That may help.  Mom works admin at the Farm, she’s getting it organized. 

“No one understands the Martian plants and mutant animals.  They’re creepy.  The animals seem to barely notice you.  The eyes on the plants, they follow you.  They never blink.” 

They all shivered.

“Nan and granddad mean the most to me,” Shallot told them.  “But Mom and dad are my family, y’know?  I live with them.  They argue a lot and it’s getting worse.  They’re near the edge.  If they break up, I don’t know what life would be like.  I know what living with them is like, even when they’re upset with themselves or me.  I don’t want to find out what living alone is like.”

“Won’t happen,” Aaliyah reassured her.  “They’ll weather it.”

They sat together on the bed until just before Shallot’s parents were due home.  Then Aaliyah and Farha left, giving Shallot a hug, none of them reassured about anything important in their lives.  Shallot thought she put on a good show.  She felt more at home in the game.  The NPGs had the personalities of their counterparts but were changing, acting with more overall purpose.  Change in the game was more rapid. 

She checked in the game.  Her NPG parents were almost home, travelling separately.  Both looked tense.  Just like her real parents, probably.

She turned off the notebook and waited.  She soon heard the front door open.  Should she go downstairs and see them?  Or tell them she felt sick, and stay in her room?  But what was happening with them?  She had to at least go downstairs and see how they were.  She yearned for dinners to return to boring.    

She changed her clothing, to feel different, put her notebook in her backpack and went downstairs.  Her mom and dad were in the kitchen, working on dinner, looking at the cooking, not themselves.  She wanted to say something, could not think of anything.  They had not seen her so she quietly walked out.  She decided she couldn’t handle more.  She knew enough about how they were doing, from a glance into the kitchen. 

She looked at the police yellow tape covering the front door of the woman two blocks down, who had been strangled.  Soon enough, they would discover the video of Mike in his apartment had been altered.  Maybe they were hunting now for who altered them.  She remembered Phyllis, from visits to her Nan at City Hall.  She remembered the face, the occasional wave.  They rarely spoke, if they did it was about nothing. 

Phyllis meant as much to her as a random NPG.

She walked down the street, looking at the houses, up at the discoloured dome.  She felt twitchy.  The only way to stop twitchy is to do something.  Hadn’t she already done something?  She was most worried now about her family.  What could she do? 

Mars and Me.

She left the sidewalk, walking into a small park, today no one played.  She sat on an available bench, opened her notebook and entered the game.  She had friends in the game who understood as much as Farha and Aaliyah.  As real as the friends she had in the colony. 

She checked first with Aaliyah’s NPG.  She was working hard, avoiding her NPG parents, doing research on how the murder became real.  They chatted a bit.  NPG Farha was back on the farm, talking with Shallot as she watered the Martian plants, avoiding the eyes.  New dirt had already arrived and was being plowed in.  She hoped it would help the crops.  That done, she went for the reason she entered the game.  She found her mother’s NPG.  NPG mom was tons easier to talk with.  At work, NPG mom was very upset, with her husband and with Shallot, worried the colony was falling apart, that she would somehow lose her pension.  She did ask if Shallot had finally had sex.  Still mom. 

Shallot hesitated to contact her dad’s NPG.  He kept saying he loved her, as dad did, but he never acted like it.  She found Antonio at work at the Smelter, in human resources.  He looked at her.  She at him. 

I’m busy, he told her.  Love you.  What is it?

She asked about the smelter.  They’re all upset.  She asked how he was.  I’m trying to work.  Sorry, onion

She gave up on dad, searched for her NPG, found it searching for her. 

NPG Shallot told her that her parents were tense.  It was uncomfortable at home but at least they’d stopped arguing.  She had idea why.  They thought of themselves as extensions of the players.  Now players were eliminating them.  The NPGs still felt betrayed. 

Shallot tried to reassure her counterpart.  She did not get far.  Maybe it’s Mars, she finally typed. 

No, it’s one of you.  The Martian plants communicate with each other telepathically.  We have Martian organisms in our bodies.  Maybe there are infected colonists who developed such power.  Or something.  We think mind control is behind this, maybe. 

Okay, I’ll think about that.  We are still trying to figure the organisms out.  Meanwhile, we need comprehensive blocks against any violence in the game.  I’ve asked my great granddad; he said your great grand dad is working with him.  Also, not just violence.  But to wall the game off more from what happens in the colony.  To make us independent. 

Working on it, pal.  Shallot left the game.  A mom and dad were now in the play area, with a toddler.  The toddler was having an enjoyable time, on the swing, pushed by his mom.  She texted great grand dad about NPG Shallot.  In a moment he texted back Working on it. 

She rubbed her neck.  Organisms.  In her, inert.  So far.  She thought of George, wanted to contact him but the Clinic would not allow it.  She needed to talk with him.  She began to shake and had to grip the bench.  Was George even still alive?  Were his last memories of her turning him down, calling the Clinic on him? 

She sat on the bench, holding herself, rocking back and forth, thinking of him.  She re-entered the game and looked for him.  No avatar.  His NPG sat in a small room, sitting on a bed.  With a woman his age beside him.  She texted but received no response. 

22

Evening’s No Better Than A Lousy Morning

Should we tell them?

Not if they won’t tell us anything.  George looked at Katie, then returned to glaring at the door, the windowless walls. 

It’s weird, hearing you in my head.  She frowned.  This morning when you said Hello and hadn’t said anything at all.  What does it mean?

It’s Mars, he replied.  It’s Mars inside us.

Yeah but what on earth does it mean?

They both laughed.  Out loud.  It was the first sound they had made in the room for a while. 

They had spent yesterday and all of today together, together since they’d met.  They found no other patients, the medical personnel refused to talk about anything meaningful, and to avoid questions left them alone.  Water and normal power had partially returned, so the medical staff rushed even more as the Clinic was restored to a relative normal.  There were not that many staff in the Clinic to begin with—there were usually only a handful of patients at a time.  George and Katie had all the time to themselves they wanted, and they wanted.  Talking, thinking, growing.  Sharing a bond.  And then, this morning, sharing thoughts.  

We can speak to each other but no one else.  What does that mean?

Maybe our range is limited.  Maybe we can be telepathic only with other infected people.  People who have as much Mars in them as us.  I feel two of something inside me, growing. 

Yes, I also feel two.  We gain their telepathic power as they grow.  Doesn’t feel creepy.

Feels empowering.

They sat on the bed, near each other, not touching.  They felt no need to touch.  Not when they were nonphysical.   

We should tell somebody about this, George thought to her.  Our friends.  I want to see Shallot.  I’m sure she want to see me.  

The Clinic won’t let anyone near us.  

What about the game?  We’ve hardly bothered with it for a couple of days.  I can’t email Shallot, maybe I can text her through the game.  They both had their notebooks on the bed.  They powered up.  Katie was in the game in seconds.  Searching, she found her NPG. 

Hey!  Guess what?  I’m telepathic!  So is George! 

Katie NPG replied.  Us too!  Since yesterday!  It should be creepy but isn’t!   

Her NPG was excited.  They began sharing experiences, ideas how to use their new power. While Katie chatted, George finished entering the game and sought Shallot’s NPG. 

Hey there, health jail boy. 

He told her he was okay.  That he had a new power.  To tell Shallot.  That he needed to see her.  NPG Shallot told him what real Shallot was doing.  And that they both worried about him, that Shallot really wanted to see him also.  They both had thought he might even be dead by now.  They’d heard nothing. She wrote she’d inform the real Shallot, told him of the two murders, and signed off so he could text Shallot herself through the game. 

George texted Shallot directly. 

I am alive and okay.  I worry about you.  I have no idea what’s going on outside.  But don’t worry about me.  I’m good.  Lumps don’t move any more.  But I and another patient here, we both have two somethings growing inside us.  We’ve developed powers.  Have to see you.  Want to see you.  Come here.  We can influence the staff, get you in. 

We know about the murders.  If there’s a conspiracy involving a colonist, we think could be a target.  Because perhaps the colonist has these powers, and wants them for himself. 

Mike sat in a cell, a police guard watching him through the solid glass.  The single bed he sat on was thin, as was the pillow he held on his lap.  “I hear a voice.  In my head,” he told the officer.  “Telling me I did it.  My DNA is on her neck.  But I only killed her in the game.  I remember sitting there, doing it.  Sitting in my living room.  Not on the street, my hands on her!” 

The officer nodded.  “There’s video evidence showing you at home.  It was faked, put in after the fact.  Someone trying to help you?  Any idea who?”  Mike shook his head.  The officer continued, “You’ve seen the actual surveillance footage.  You put down the notebook, stand, leave the room, leave your apartment.  Street cams show you walking across the street and knocking on her door.  When she answers, you kill her.  It’s recorded.” 

“I heard a voice.  Telling me I could kill in the game.  That’s when I started.  Couple of months ago.  The voice.  Sometimes, it tells me who in the game to kill.  It’s hard to remember but it told me to kill Phyllis, I think.

“Uh huh.”  The officer nodded again.  “Whose voice?” 

“It’s muffled.  Very familiar.  I’m trying to identify it, God I’m trying.  It doesn’t want me to identify it.” 

“Someone you know?”

“Yeah, a man.  Oh God I need help!”  He looked at the guard through the glass.  “Do you believe me? 

“Do I think you’re nuts?”  The guard returned Mike’s look.  “No.  Doesn’t feel like it.  Maybe the voice is real.  We are on Mars.  Nothing here’s a surprise.”  He smiled.  “We’re following down every lead, that I can tell you.  If there’s a bigger picture here, we’ll find it.  Our eyes are open.  Opened.  Most of us think you killed her but aren’t responsible.”

“What does that mean?”

“There’s a lot of talk about telepathy.  Because of the Martian plants.  Maybe you’ve been…influenced?”

“By the plants?”   

Newman finished the rest of the glass of smooth expensive simulhol, leaning back in the plush chair in his living room.  He enjoyed the heat slipping down his throat and warming his stomach.  Smiling, feet stuck out, shoes and socks off.  More comfortable.  His feet looked a little thicker, felt full, as if they were full of…roots. 

His feet stank.  He should have a shower.  He had people to meet.  Though looking good, smelling good, just for others—was that not weakness?  No.  It was not weak to be admired, to want to be admired, as he deserved.      

It had been a long day at the Smelter.  By now he’d met all of them.  In the Smelter and the other working areas.  Colonists were angry, worried, complaining about being victimized and ignored—a perfect base for making Mars great again.  He’d focussed on the Smelter, starting with Antonio.   The Smelter produced iron, plastics, almost everything the colony used and needed except food.  Its feet were in everyone’s life and as smelly as his. 

He wiggled his toes, and he saw, idly, his crotch.  He refilled his glass, then returned to his crotch.  Newman missed playing Mars and Me daily.  Whenever he had time, was especially angry, he found release in killing the NPGs of colonists he hated. 

He hated most of them.  Or at best they were inferior.  Lacked vision.  The colony would only survive if it was strong, unified.  Under clear leadership. As only he could provide. 

But he had little time to play these days.  Mike was–he smiled–overkill.  Turning him into a murderer who’d be found out was luscious revenge against Madeline, especially at the start of the election campaign—the Mayor’s aide, a murderer.  Mike himself had little to do with anything, except Newman found him obnoxious.  Choosing Mike was all about her, about the woman challenging him.

Mike took a lot of effort but it built to an exciting climax.  Newman replayed the video of the murder, in real life and in the game, many times.  Dangerous to kill in the colony, yes, but worth the gamble.  His position was perfect.  He had key colonists in hand and almost all the Council.  All he had to do was sort out the problems inevitably created. 

But it demonstrated he could enter a mind and influence it to do something profoundly abnormal.  More completely than he had to date.  To an extreme.  That day, he entered the game and strangled NPG Phyllis.  Then he entered Mike’s mind, and while Mike thought he was playing the game, in a daze, he was strangling the real Phyllis.  Then blankly walked back to his apartment, sat back down and continued with the game–as if it had all been in the game. 

She must be sweating blood. 

Originally, it was to undercut her campaign.  Now there was no election.  Mike was still useful but not in the same way.  Plans change. 

He developed purple boils on his back six months ago but told no one, not even his aide.  No way he would let anyone know and be forced into the Clinic.  The Clinic was a termination point.  No one yet had entered and left.  If he was going to wither away, Newman decided, he would wither in private.  No one should see him diminished.  So he took two weeks off Council, telling Jim, his aide, he was exhausted.  That it was a forced vacation, he would just stay at home, be available by phone and email.

They all told him, including Jim, take as much time away as you want. 

Bastards. 

He’d show them, show them all.  Because he never withered.  The moving lumps disappeared, perhaps dissolving inside him, he had no idea.  He felt something, no discomfort.  The lumps were absorbing themselves into him.  The purple boils on his back were absorbed into his body in a few days.  After a few more, he felt stronger, not weaker. 

He returned to Council stronger, bolder.  Soon he was aware something was very different.  Aware he had a power.  He could tune into minds near him, hear what anyone close to him thought.  Better, he could manipulate their thinking.  It took experimentation, enjoyable experimentation.  Starting with Jim.  Then several Councillors, the most susceptible.  Over the past couple of months.  Now almost all the Councillors and a handful of key colonists were unquestioningly loyal, to him, and what do what he wanted. 

They now served him.  He had to meet each once a week, to re-energize them, but now his followers were stable.  Everything was right, as planned. 

The minds of Madeline and Majorie were stronger somehow, so he avoided them.  But after those close to him in City Hall, he began visiting the Smelter, other worker groups.  He searched but never found anyone he could telepathically communicate with, no companion mind.  But he did find minds to influence, to mold to his needs.  And it was far better if his powers were unique.  Except for the plants.  Instinctively he knew to avoid them. 

Working for his future was a strain.  Mars and Me had been a great release.  After realizing the NPGs regenerated if they died but their colonist players remained alive, and he could kill them without consequence, he enjoyed finding NGPs of colonists he despised and strangling them.  The game did not allow weapons, he found no way around that, but it did not matter.

He enjoyed using his hands. 

Now he sat in his apartment.  The time had arrived.  Months of preparation ensured he was set to act.  To force the changes Mars needed.  Only he should have the power. 

Mars was failing but he would make it great again. 

He got up, went to the washroom and had a shower, taking extra care washing his feet.

Then he went to sleep after jerking off, ending a long day, looking forward to tomorrow.  They would be onto him soon enough, but by then it would be way too late. 

23

Will I Enjoy Today?

The next day began by the clock–not the Martian sunrise, the sun dull and distant, but from alarm clocks at each colonist’s bedside.  Outside, around the dome, another sandstorm was kicking up.  The deep cold was unforgiving.  The solar radiation worse.  More cracks were developing in the old dome.  The air more polluted, noticeably smoggy.  An unpleasant morning to wake into, even under the dome.

Shallot woke, rubbed her eyes, not feeling at all refreshed.  What would today bring?  Off the top, she heard her parents moving in their bedroom.  Should she have breakfast with them?  Would that be spying on them/them on her or just eating?  Everything, even relationships, was now more work than ever.  Becoming transactional.  Work with no idea if success was at the end of the road.  Her life had become work without pay except the bettering of her life. 

Blah blah blah.  She was unable to just lie in bed or lie to herself.  She pushed herself out of bed.  Whatever today led to, she would meet it head on.

Shallot’s great grandfather woke slowly, feeling stiff.  He pushed himself off the bed, then stood, not moving, shaky until he felt stronger.  He looked out the window, wondering what the day would bring.  Much to do.  He’d been up half the night.

He’d had insights last night, talking with the NPGs and the current computer expert supervising the game, about its possible connection to the real Mars.  No one thought it had one.  He worked with them to create new programming in the game to completely prevent violence of any kind, by any means, including reflecting real life.  Who was creating the violence in the game?  That was their big question.  The violence in the game and in the colony had to be connected.  And the sole connection any of them could think of was a colonist.

He went to make tea and toast.  There was a lot to do.  Too much, because he had let it go too far.

The first of the new iron pulleys was in place in Dan and Warren’s sector.  They stood on the steps on the pully, Dan pushed the button and they rode up to the top of the dome.  They looked at each other, uncertain.  More power had been restored, the ride up was faster than the last time.  Going faster to uncertainty.

They reached the top.  It was still.  Felt maybe okay.  Dan reached out and grabbed one of the new iron pulleys.  He tugged.  It felt firm.  Looking at Warren, he attached his suit hooks to the new pulley, grabbed it with both hands, and stepped off.  He swung back and forth, looking at his partner. 

“Better than ever?” Warren asked.

“Yeah.”  Dan pulled himself to the dome’s surface, attaching two suit hooks into it.  “Feels solid.  But look at that crack.  We need more sealant.”

“Good luck.  You know the Smelter says they can’t produce more.  Run out of two key ingredients.  They’re trying to figure it out.  Say we have to wait.” 

“The dome won’t wait.” 

Wendy and Peter stood by an elevator, waiting to ride down to the underground, moving inside their improved protective suits, pulling at the sleeves, adjusting the gloves.  They had to wait for the elevator.  A load of dirt was being taken up.  The doors opened and, as Wendy and Peter stood to one side, other workers used a small construction vehicle to scoop the dirt out of the elevator and into a waiting dump truck. 

As they watched, they grew more nervous than ever.  They worried about the water holding.  Too many patches.  Another burst pipe felt inevitable.  They held hands as they stepped into the dirty elevator.  It was a long ride down.  They did not speak this morning of making babies.  But they hugged before starting towards today’s pipe.  It was very weak, had to be repaired in the next few hours.  They looked at the other underground workers, who looked back.  For a long moment, the workers silently looked at each other.  Then the moment was over and they all returned to work.  Most wished they were somewhere else, but the colony depended on them.  Water was still only about two-thirds of normal pressure, enough to barely keep the steam plant producing power. 

At least the colony was warm.  At least they still had food.

In the Clinic breakfast was doubtless nutritious but definitely boring, less designed to wake up them up than encourage them to return to bed.  After finishing, eating in her room, George and Katie experimented with entering the minds of the staff.  Influencing.  They started with better food.  George came up with the idea and took the lead.  It was a simple goal, easy to know if it succeeded.  And it worked.  At noon they were served a more elaborate lunch than usual that actually tasted good.  Staff smiled at them more, stopping by to chat rather than rushing off.  They learned nothing new but their environment certainly had improved. 

What next?  Free themselves?  To go where?  To do what?  

After lunch, they sat on the bed in his room, entered the game and informed their NPG friends and select player avatars about their new power.  Asking it be kept secret.  Top secret.  Because they were totally uncertain where it would go.  Could they change the colony for the better–or for the worse?  Tampering always had ripple effects.

Could they change anything important?  Would it stick?

More important, was telepathy only the end or only the beginning of changes within them?  Would they mutate?  Turn into crawling gooey gobs of Martian flesh?  Their future remained uncertain than ever.  But at least they had some control.  What happened next depended on them, not adults telling them what to do or think. 

This is a trap.  I need to get out of here, Katie thought to him. 

Ditto.  But there are a lot of staff between us and the door.  Getting better food was easy.  Walking out will take time.  I have to do each of them.  It would be better if you helped. 

I don’t like doing that to someone.  It doesn’t feel right. 

We are prisoners.  Remember, Katie. 

Farha, from her office on the Farm, strategized with NPGs while her father Cary and other farmers laboured over newly plowed fields enriched with fresh soil from the lava tubes.  They had to ensure the delicate plants already growing had not been disturbed.  Water was back on, but not quite enough.  For a while it had not been quite enough.

Earlier that morning the police came to her office and questioned her, asking about altering the video.  They had traced it to her notebook.  Feeling trapped, but prepared for them, she answered the questions honestly, telling them she was trying to protect the game.  They told her they might arrest her.  After they left, she entered the game and told her NPG what had happened.  The same had just happened, an hour ago, to the NPG.  They both worried the game would be shut down, then the colony.  For her NPG, that meant oblivion. 

Aaliyah was also questioned by the police, at Marsball.  The visit shook her.  She never thought the police would find out so quickly.  Her story to them was honest, matching Farah’s.  They questioned her, threatened to arrest her eventually, then left.  She was shaken.  For Aaliyah, the police presence was too much.  She could not be calm, like Farah or even Shallot.  She was barely holding on, worrying when she would be arrested.  She shut off the game and tried to concentrate on work, know her supervisor was watching her. 

Marjorie prepared for the morning’s emergency Council meeting by having breakfast with her aide, finishing knitting booties while discussing the latest estimates on building an escape ship with existing resources.  They both worried that between the water and power outages and other disruptions, planning building escape crafts had faded to wishful thinking.  When she entered her office at City Hall, her aide asked why they were bothering.  “Because there’s always a chance,” Marjorie replied.  “And because we cannot simply sit and wait for Council, or Newman.”

“What does that jerk off have planned?”

“Now now now, we don’t have to call names.”   

Newman prepared for the morning’s Council meeting naked, looking at himself standing in front of a full-length bedroom mirror, jerking off.  He liked watching the splatter on the mirror.  All of his work was paying off, despite the danger to himself he had created.  All the obstacles had been overcome, for today.  Today would be the start to new life on Mars–new life for himself.  The colonists would accept his leadership.  He would make himself great, as he deserved.  And would make Mars great along with him.

First, he needed a shower, to wash himself clean. 

Madeline and Sally woke in each other’s arms, naked.  They woke slowly, enjoyably, cuddling, snuggling.  A long kiss.  “You have a lot today,” Sally said, nuzzling.  Madeline enjoyed the cuddle, the warmth, the soft flesh against soft flesh.  Her older flesh with younger.  He knew Mike secretly was contemptuous of how her body had sagged.  Not Sally.  It was the inner Madeline Sally saw.

Warren looked at Dan.  “No more sealant, than what?” 

“Pulley seems okay,” Dan said.

“We got the first one.”

“We were the ones with the broken rope,” Dan reminded him.  “Sandstorm’s kicking up again.”

“Yeah.”  Warren looked at him.  “The dome’s not going to make it, is it?  The basic substance has been corroding for decades.  Needs more than patches.  Needs a complete overhaul.” 

Beneath them, underground had been a large open cavern with a lake of frozen ice, large pipes with heating elements running into the frozen surface.  All that was still there, but now large sections were occupied by bulldozers and workers (in less protective, improvised suits) digging up Martian soil and loading it into large crates.  The cavern was far better lit but noisier, full of rubble and machinery.  Everyone had to be far more careful than usual.  Wendy and Peter worried that a construction vehicle would run into a pipe.  Large moving machinery around the delicate pipes was a bad idea.

As they stepped off the elevator, they saw workers finishing a large patch on a damaged pipe.  They waved to each other, then Wendy and Peter headed for their assigned area.  “That was nice, this morning,” Wendy told him. 

“Too bad we have to come down here.” 

“Think we made a baby yet?” she asked.

“I’m trying to use that telepathy everyone talks about, to find out.” 

They shared a laugh as they reached the pipe.  They had a large repair to weld into place before the aging pipe burst.  They began reluctantly, uncertain there were patches big enough to fix the pipe.  Their only choice was to keep working hard, and hope. 

Shallot, working hard on her home life, decided to eat breakfast with her parents.  And hope it went well.  By now that was a big deal.  She had no idea what to expect.  It took a while for her to even decide, much less put on clothing and go down there.  But she did, determined.  She could make things better!

They looked at her and said hello.  In the kitchen it was very quiet.  The clatter of plates.  She sat at the table with them, mom having put the full places on the table.  She tried a smile.  Nowhere.

Only pass the salt talk.  

They had trouble looking at her, she at them.  When the plates were clear, in the sink, they finally looked at her.  “The police were here this morning,” her mom said to her, tense. 

“Yes,” Shallot said.  “They interviewed me, in my bedroom.  It was about someone interfering with the game, and the murder.”

“They say in Administration you’re up to something,” her mom, now Miranda, told her, tense, voice firm. 

“Same at the Smelter,” her father added.  “Something about that game.  There are rumours you and your friends doctored evidence about Nan’s aide.  The police asked me about you, after they interviewed you upstairs.  I told them my daughter has kept us in the dark.”

“Me too,” Miranda told her.  “We’re your parents.  Tell us now.  What have you been up to?”   

She put down her spoon and burst, abruptly telling them everything.  The words flowed.  The dam burst.  She was unable to stop.  She had felt so guilty, lying to them.

They listened, sipping coffee, quiet. 

When she finished, they murmured thanks, deep in thought.  “Wish you’d told us first,” her father said.  Mom said nothing.  Then they left, for work.  “I’ll tell people you were trying to fix the game,” her mom said as they left. 

Shallot washed the dishes, got her backpack and stepped out onto the street, uncertain where to go except out. 

Aaliyah and Farha were at work, at Marsball and the Farm.  She had other friends—didn’t she?  A week ago she did. 

She had read texts in the group chat about searching for bad guys, but no one texted her directly, asked how she was doing.  Shallot understood.  Everyone was scattered.  And most of her friends had always been jealous of her privilege, of her family, something she was born into, never earned.  Some were friends to get closer to privilege and power.  It was silly.  Just because her grandmother was Mayor, her great grandfather a colony leader.  Her mom and dad powerful in their work areas.

She glided through life so far.  Slid along the knife edge of the slope, trying to avoid the downsides.  She saw her past more clearly.  It was not pleasant.  She shivered, although it was warm. 

She saw two workers, at the top of the dome, working on cracks.  Outside the dome, a fierce sandstorm had begun, creating a constant loud thumping against the dome.  Under her feet, she felt rumbling from the digging.  Thumping above, rumbling below. 

She started to walk.  To nowhere, just walk.  It felt good.  Like…movement. 

Enough.  She phoned Pam, a semi-bestie.  Turned out, Pam felt as undermined as Shallot.  She did not know who to call or what to do either.  Her parents were fighting and she did not like her new entry level position at the Smelter.  She apologized for not phoning but said she had not phoned anyone.  Some of the other friends said the same, others put her off.  Everyone was…discombobulated. 

Well, at least it ain’t just me, Shallot thought. 

While listening, Shallot found a large bench in a nearby small park.  She told Pam where she was, invited her to come over.  “I need to be around someone real,” Shallot told her.  Someone I know who won’t argue, who’ll understand.” 

While waiting, she phoned other semi-besties.  The message from all was similar.  Several agreed to join her on the bench, relieved to just see each other, rather than problem solve. 

Pam arrived first, followed by Marge.  Then Cara.  When Fran arrived, they moved to the coffee shop. 

The usually crowded shop was almost empty, although power and water had been restored to almost normal levels.  They purchased tea and muffins and sat at the table farthest from the windows. 

“Some of us were born into privileged families, some not,” Shallot said to them, sipping tea, “but we all feel screwed.  I feel like my job every day is shovelling crap.”

“Yeah,” Cara said.  Nodding.  Muffin untouched.

“Your grandmother and great grandad know anything?” Pam asked.

“He’s working to fix the game so murders can’t happen there.  The crossover, no one knows.  Nan’s on it but no one knows.  The thinking is, it isn’t the game, it’s a player.  A colonist.”

“Do we know anything?” Pam asked again.

“If you haven’t been in the game this morning,” Marge told them, “George and Katie, something’s going on with them.  Telepathic powers.  Probably from the Martians inside them.  They’re trying to fix it so they can have visitors.  George wants Shallot to contact him.”

“Mind powers.  It’s cool and scary,” Cara added.  “It isn’t a big leap to think there are other colonists with powers.  Building power by controlling minds.  One by one.  There’s probably a list.  Of victims.  One day, we’re next.” 

Shallot sipped her tea.  “Maybe someone older, the Martian organisms infecting him over time, and him able to hide it.  Or her.”  Shivers.  “Could be a lot of people we know.  I know a Councillor like that.  Self-involved to the max.  He’d love having that kind of power.” 

“Newman?” Cara asked.  Shallot nodded.  “Yeah, he’s a creep.  But it could be any of our parents,” Cara added.  “People keep dark secrets.  I find it hard to think about.”

“We’re caught up with the game and murder,” Shallot reminded them, “but that isn’t our major problem.  For out futures.  This is about the climate we live in, the compromises we make, how we’re paying for them.  It isn’t fair, we didn’t do anything, we just were born here.”

Pam looked at her.  “What else is new?  That all you got?” 

“She’s got enough,” Cara said.  “We have to act about our whole environment, how we approach it.  We live in it.  Besides, we’re sixteen.  We’re not kids anymore.  We have to be responsible.”

“I thought we were just going go talk,” Shallot said.  “About nothing much.”

They finished their tea and muffins, each talking about what they would do next.  Identifying potential murderers among the colonists had gone nowhere.  They were not sure what to do next except take one step after another.  After the meeting broke up, Shallot phoned Aaliyah and Farha to update them.  She walked out energized.  She had done something.  Meeting with people off line was good.  Even better, talking honestly was something.  She looked up at the dome workers, feeling confident. 

“This crack is getting worse,” Dan said.  “And we’ve run out.”

“I’ve called for more sealant.” 

“We need two more Domers.” 

“Yeah,” Warren said.  “Sandstorm ain’t helping.  I’ll call down.” 

“And more air.  Even with two more Domers, if we get them, it’ll take five hours.”

“Pulleys here won’t support more than four of us.” Warren told him.  “And have you looked at the hooks?”

Above them were four heavy duty “hooks,” spaced regularly along the top of the dome and sides, to support repair workers.  Hooks below the dome, joined to large black junction boxes.  The boxes quietly hummed, containing motors to adjust pulleys or ropes.  Dan pointed to what held the boxes on the inside of the dome: thick, two foot wide bolts in holes drilled through the dome.  On the outside, the ends of the bolts flared out six feet square, holding the bolts in place, supporting the heavy weight of the boxes and chains.  And of the workers using them.

Dan followed Warren’s finger and saw corrosion on the outside of the hole, and that the ends of the bolts had visibly eroded.  “Crap.”  

Shallot wondered what they were talking about, looking up.  The colony had to be getting better.  If it did not improve, it was back to that awful doom spiral.  She wished she could visit George. 

She felt rumbling under her feet.

Wendy was grumbling as she felt the digging vibrations through her suit.  “I guess.” 

Peter glanced up as he finished welding a new iron compound section onto a main water pipe.  “You guess?  You guess we should marry?”

She used a smaller torch to finish the weld.  “I love you.  These days, I vacillate, ok?” 

“You don’t have to have faith in the colony.  Just in us.”  He watched her complete the weld.  “I have faith in you.” 

“You’re sweet.  We’ll need to recruit more water workers to keep the pipes from falling apart again.”  She leaned forward so their clear faceplates touched. 

“No children, no future,” he said.  “We should think of ourselves, what we want.  There’s the big picture.  Then there’s our picture.” 

“Just go for it and see what happens?”

All over the colony, people were unsettled.  The NPGs matched them.  No longer was anything taken for granted.  They had taken power and water and reasonable air for granted.  Now the basic fundamentals could stop at any time.  And unlike before, everyone knew it. 

Everyone was either energized, trying to figure out what to do, most directing their energy into the new workers’ organizations.  Or they worked but felt stunned, stunted, going though motions.  The NPGs urged their players to think about moving underground, creating a crude city away from the solar radiation and sandstorms.  Channel resources where we will need them in a year, the NPGs urged. 

But their players responded nervously.  Go underground?  That would be moving.  Above ground, they knew what they had.  Below ground, what else might go wrong?  While they lived in elaborate caves?  The NPGs had not considered those issues.  To them, belongings were meaningless, artifacts of their players.  Everyone felt the situation was building to a climax.  A huge crack in the dome, air and warmth escaping. 

The average person felt tiny. 

Shallot felt the rumbling, saw the dome workers.  Adjusting her backpack, she walked down the street, deciding where to go next, what to do.  She could phone Nan, ask how the morning’s Council meeting had gone.  But perhaps she should stay away from using Nan in any way that was…privileged. 

She’d call Nan later.  She was her own self.  She refused to feel small.  It was not in her.

She had to think big. 

Lust, On Mars Chapters 12-18

12

Ready?  Now?

I know who I am,” she told him.  “No matter what’s screwed up outside, inside me the time is right.  I don’t want to wait any longer.  I’m ready.  We’re ready.” 

“Children?  Here?  Now?”  He gripped her shoulders, gently.  “Let’s get married instead.”

Peter looked at Wendy, at the back of her head.  They worked together underground, their shift ended a few hours ago, now they lay naked on their bed, cuddling.  Spooning.  Not facing each other.

“You want to bring children into this world?” he asked.  “Our lives are getting worse.  It’d break my heart to raise our children here.  They’d have no future.” 

“If there are no children, Peter, the colony will die.  That’s no future.” 

He shook his head.  “Should never have been a colony.  Founded from hubris.  No one gave us a choice.  We were born here but is it home?” 

“It’s the only home we’ve known.  We keep going in circles.” 

They lay on the bed not speaking, uncomfortable.  “This sucks,” she said. 

They stood and went naked to the window, looking out.  “The view’s always the same,” she said quietly.  “Only we keep changing.”   

They fondled each other lovingly.  Fit, in their late twenties, thinking of life’s next stage.  “Love you,” he said tenderly. 

She kissed him, telling him through her lips she loved him as well. 

“Should we go to the meeting later?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Want to not make a baby?” 

“Only with you.”

They went back to bed and made love, feeling each other’s heat, desires, traumas.  It was good and they lay in bed as long as they could.  Then they showered, dressed and walked to the Water Administration building.  The fate of the colony’s water hung over them.  Heavily.  Especially now.  The future seemed more important now. 

They had more than themselves at stake now. 

Soon they were around other people.  A lot of other people.  All of whom they knew, having worked with them.  There were no more chairs in the large auditorium, so Peter and Wendy stood at the back, shoulder to shoulder with colleagues.  The feeling hanging over them all was heavy, a burden they did not want but could no longer ignore.  The NPGs were not ignoring it.  Why should they? 

William and Kathryn, two older workers, were at the front of the room.  Seeing the full room, Kathryn stepped to the mike. 

“Based on our other meetings, we’ve drawn up a letter to Council.  I will read it out loud, and you also each have been given a copy.”  Appreciative murmurs.  “The election is irrelevant.  It does not matter who is Mayor.  We seek your approval for this statement, then we will send it to Council immediately, they have two days to respond.”  More appreciative murmurs.

She read:

The Water Workers give Council two days to meet our needs.  If the response does not meet our needs, we will stop work.  Water will no longer flow.  We do not wish to damage the colony in any way.  Our purpose is to repair the colony.  Repair it properly, now.  We alone have the expertise to determine which water pipes should be repaired, how and when.

We will determine Water Workers’ work schedules, which will now be four twelve-hour shifts per week, one more shift than is currently scheduled.  We expect this overtime to be compensated, but we are prepared to delay payment, given limited resources.

Given schedules will involve a short turnaround, sleeping arrangements will be arranged for workers in Water, so they do not have to leave the facility for rest.  Separate bedrooms, communal washrooms.  This will improve morale and efficiency.

We determine the water maintenance budget.  It must be increased, immediately, by fifty percent.  We do not care where the money comes from.  The colony needs a reliable source of water, this is the only way to do it. 

The Smelter will priorize replacement patches for old piping and the creation of new pipes. 

Our needs are not negotiable. 

After she finished reading, there was loud applause.  Workers waved the statement in the air.  The secret vote was unanimous.  The workers applauded again.  They cheered Kathryn, slapped each other’s backs in congratulations.  A huge sense of relief washed over the room.  They had known what was needed for years, now they were finally acting. 

Kathryn held up her hands, quieting the room.  “There’s more you should know.  We just heard before this meeting.  We decided to put the statement to you and have you vote, first.  But in fact we are not the first.  The Smelter Workers organized today.  They have drawn up similar demands and sent them to Council.  So have the Dome Workers and the Farmers. 

“The Administration Workers’ Alliance Leage–AWOL–Organization was formed last but they made no demands, just an announcement they existed.  They are of course committed to Council.  Or at least to stable government.  They did express concern about their pensions and when they can retire. 

“I suggest we vote to work cooperatively with our sister organizations.  Between us, we involve most colony workers.  Between us, we have the power to force change.  If we work together. 

“We all want priority for our demands.  We’ll have to negotiate with them, we’ll need to form a subcommittee.”    

The Water Workers voted to respond to the other groups, send them their demands to Council and to offer coordination.  There was some discussion about whether to fully coordinate with the Administration Workers’ Organization, but it was agreed to attempt to work with them also. 

“What about our priorities?” Wendy called out from the back.  “Will the other groups support us?  What do we negotiate?”

Kathryn looked at her, over the crowd.  “Each Organization’s position is that they have priority over all others.”  She sighed.  “It will be a series of compromises, but about what, who knows?  We’ll have to make tentative decisions, working with the other groups, to recommend back for voting here.  Everyone, go on with the rest of your day, except for anyone who wants to volunteer for the subcommittee.”  She smiled.  “We’ve taken a huge first step, all of us.  This is democracy.  And keep in mind, democracy is difficult.”     

Peter and Wendy walked out largely satisfied–as did, judging from the conversations around them, their colleagues.  Although the future was far from clear, everyone felt they were no longer doomed to always be on the ground floor, following stupid orders.  Now they had built a ladder. 

They held hands.  Outside, it was a little smoggier, a little more unclear.  They walked holding hands through downtown, looking at the buildings, the same buildings as when they were children, the familiarity once comforting.  Now, the meeting over and the process started, they felt uncertain.

“Crap.  Why does everything look different?” she asked.

We’re different.”    

They entered a large park in the middle of downtown, three square blocks.  The grass was a sturdy green plastic, the artificial bushes shaped into lions and gazelles and unicorns, the simulwood trees sturdy, swings hanging from some limbs.  Once the plants had been real, but eventually required too much water and maintenance.  There was a large playground at the centre of the park.  They saw several four- and five-year-olds playing happily, enjoying the teeter totters, working to balance each other. 

Wendy and Peter sat on a bench, looking at the children having fun with balance. 

“They’re getting a dirty deal,” Peter said to her, quietly.  “We don’t have much of a future, they have less.” 

“Not if we solve the problems.  Mars isn’t such a bad place to grow up.  Maybe we can make it better.  It was never great, but it can be better.” 

He squeezed her hand.

“They are cute.” She squeezed back.

“Aren’t they?” Warmer squeeze.  “We could get married.  Make it legal.  Better for the baby.” 

He grinned.  “I’m in, hon.” 

They looked at the children on the teeter totters, balancing. 

“In all the way?” 

“Sure,” he said, turning to look at her.  “We’ll need someone to change our diapers in our old age.  We change theirs, eventually they change ours.  It’s the cycle of life.”

13

Dinners Delayed

Power and water restoration were still “in the works.”   It was a tough evening for everyone, cooking without power, relying on flashlights and battery powered lamps.  With artificial light, all apartments were completely dark at night.  If your batteries failed, you felt your way along the walls, hoping not to fall or break anything.

Madeline ate dinner in her apartment with Mike and Sally, talking about how to proceed with the campaign—or, rather, whether to proceed.  Newman had texted her and the other Councillors, reversing his position to now urging postponing the election.   He ate by himself, divorced with no children who would visit him.  Marjorie ate with her husband, two children and some grandchildren.  It was a somber family meal where the only talk was politics, which Marjorie had hoped to avoid.  It took some effort to not drop her fork and pick up her knitting needles. 

Shallot’s great grandfather ate by himself, thinking of how to correct his past failures, considering the ripple effects from what he had done, what he would do.  

Peter and Wendy ate a small, cold meal, talked about a marriage date and fertility and then left for their shift underground.  They worked more shifts than ever.  All the workers underground were devoted to emergency repairs.  Everyone wanted to get at least some water flowing without more breaks—extra work, extra delicate. 

Dan and Warren felt much the same.  It was difficult working with limited power.  The pulleys were slower, they had to use sealant sparingly.  And they were physically sore from the demanding work with little relief.  Still, if the water workers were working overtime, so should they.  Everyone was in this together.  Looking down, they saw farmers working overtime in the fields, using emergency water they’d stored after the last break.

Farha ate with her colleagues in the Smelter, where they discussed what they should not do.  She dd her best to fit in—she had a unique opportunity, given her friendship with Shallot and knowledge of the game.  She spent much of her time showing older colleagues the game and how it mirrored what was happening.  For example, yesterday it had information about poor maintenance of failing underground water tubes, discovered only that morning.  It also had information about the Smelter and its emission filters.  Her colleagues decided to where possible spend the rest of the day talking with the NPGs, who seemed to be alive.  Everyone was excited about solving the problems. 

Aaliyah ate with Mr. Maston, a problem in and of itself.  Staying as distant from him as possible, physically and emotionally.  Their food was warm.  She had ridden a stationary bike attached to the stove, so the food could be cooked, by his wife.  He asked about Shallot, she told him nothing useful, hoping dinner would be over soon.  She managed to leave before desert.  She did not want to be desert. 

Shallot sat at the kitchen table with her parents, everyone tense.  Her parents were stressed about overtime and problems, snapping at each other.  Dinner was sushi, conveniently cold, today unappealing.  Farha texted, asking what her plans were.  Shallot texted, No idea yetI’m thinking. 

Nothing was normal anymore.  Mom had worked in Admin all her life.  Dad, human resources in the Smelter, again his whole working life.  There were always work-related issues, Shallot saw that as she grew up, but now there was a new tension between them they brought home. 

“The Smelter Workers are too confrontational,” Martina told him.  “There’s a pollution problem, we all know it.  The Smelter has to work harder to stop what it pumps out into our air.” 

“Yeah,” he replied, “the only way to do that is to lower production.  But then where do we get the iron?  No iron, no water pipes.  No manufacturing, no dome sealants.  We have to make it all here.”

“There are better caps possible on the stacks, hon.”

“The resources, diversion of production, have to come from somewhere.  Your Administration won’t provide them. 

Growling, she poked at her sushi.  “Don’t blame Admin.  The funds aren’t there.  Councillors have to direct it.  Hon, you’re being way too simple.”    

“We all should have a say.  Sweets, Admin controls but knows nothing,” he snapped. 

“Don’t call me sweets.” 

“Don’t call me hon.” 

Dinner.  No one ate. Sushi remained poked at.  At least it was not getting cold.

Shallot, listening, saw a huge fight brewing.  Worse, they occasionally glared at her–they blamed her for starting their problems.  By altering the game.  By upsetting colonists with facts.  Their attitude was obvious as soon as she came home.  Muttering, mumbling, grunting.  She hid in her room until dinner.  She would have showered but water was still denied. 

She left the dinner table before desert (kale pie) and retreated to her room before the fight broke out.  As she walked up the stairs, she heard their voices rising.  She reached her bedroom, entered, closing the door firmly, sat on her bed and cried. 

Aaliyah did not answer so she phoned Farha, who was still at work somehow, eating with her new friends, in the game.  Farha was pleasant on the phone but managed to let Shallot know they had listeners.  She did say her dad, the lead Farmer, wanted her to transfer to the Farm, to work crops, and he could do it because of the current emergency, many crops failing.  She eagerly agreed. 

Before, no one, including the youth, cared much about their work unless they had a personal passion.  Limited opportunities limit passions.  But Farha did have a passion for the Farm, having grown up with it.  And the crops were failing due not only to water problems, but to lack of decent light and fertilizer for the tired soil. 

Shallot put the phone down and looked up, through the window, at the dome.  At the sky of Mars, beyond.  It was night.  The sky was dark.  The scarred dome made it impossible to see any stars.  She had only seen Earth through a telescope, a tiny blue dot.  She saw two workers at the dome’s top.  She hoped they weren’t arguing. 

Dan and Warren hung from the very top of the dome, towards the end of their extended shift, repairing a new crack before it opened up. 

“More sealant,” Dan said. 

“Running out,” Warren replied.  “We’ll have to send for more.” 

“I’ll call in,” Dan said.

When he did, they heard “No problem,” a voice on their helmet radio said.  “If you can handle a couple more hours, I’ll send more sealant up.  What do you have?”

“Two new cracks.  Got one almost done,” Dan said.  “Five more developing.”

“Doesn’t look good,” Warren added unnecessarily. 

They held onto the ropes, swaying. 

Their dinner earlier had come from tins.  It was hardly satisfying, they felt dirty–unable to wash–and were thirsty, limited to their water bottles.  They felt isolated from everyone in the dome, hanging a hundred feet from the surface.  They used to enjoy being above everyone else.  Now it felt like a disconnect.  They no longer felt like they were floating.  Only fraying ropes kept them from dropping a hundred feet. 

“How’s it feel, on top of the world?” Dan said as they finished sealing the crack.  They looked at it, satisfied.

“Like my feet ain’t on the ground no more.” 

“Were they ever?”

They laughed. 

“It was easier,” Warren said, “when all we had to do was follow orders.  Now we’re more responsible.  I’m not comfy being responsible.” 

“We want a say, it comes with a price, eh?  I’m sure everyone down there feels it.” 

They hung swaying inspecting the sealed crack.  Nine inches of reinforced simulplastic between the colonists and the deep cold, wind, dust and solar radiation of Mars. 

“The dome used to feel thicker,” Warren said, looking up.  “Crap!  Grab the pulley!”

Dan reached out and grabbed the nearest chain without question.  As it took his weight, the frayed rope holding him snapped.  The sound sickened them. 

They watched the broken rope fall to the ground very far below. 

Warren grabbed the iron chain, looking at the rope holding him.  “The dome can look after itself,” he said angrily.  He radioed his Supervisor, “Rope failure.  We’re going down and staying there, until it’s safe.”

Dan, gripping the iron pulley, managed to find a footpad to put his weight on.  “No argument there, pal.” 

“Let them come up here.”  Looking down, they saw a few startled colonists standing by the rope, looking up at them.  Colonists rarely looked up at the dome workers. 

They descended very slowly. 

They saw the other dome workers now also descending. 

Workers above the Smelter took a sideways route down, to avoid the exhaust stacks.    

“Look out below,” Warren muttered.  “We’re all coming down.”

14

The Smelter

The Smelter was substantial, built one hundred and fifty years earlier on the outskirts of the city, after iron and other resources from Earth stopped.  The Smelter produced the raw materials and included a centre that manufactured what the colony needed.  It created the dome chains, ropes, water pipes and other products, including anything made of plastic.  It employed the most colonists. 

Smelter production was vital.  The most controversial aspect was its air pollution, which had been causing increasing cancers for over a hundred years, after there was a failure in the main stack filters which pumped raw emissions into the air.  The filters were repaired but resources were limited and the new filters were not as good.  Everyone had long decided to live with the pollution, but lately it had grown far worse because of increased production and poorer filters. 

Everyone, especially the Smelter workers, wanted to stop the pollution.  Plans to pump the plant’s exhaust through the dome, outside, to Mars, were dropped over concerns that creating any hole in the weakened dome could be catastrophic.  Plans to pump the exhaust underground also went nowhere, over fears of contaminating the water and protests from the underground water workers. 

The Council settled on the best pollution caps it could afford. 

It was considered a necessary danger.  As illnesses and deaths grew, the Smelter was increasingly controversial.  But the colony needed iron.  It needed products.  Pollution had to be lived with.

Shallot’s father, Antonio, worked as the head of the Smelter’s human resources, on the second floor of the office section.  Once bright and cheery, the offices were now worn, patched together.  Gradually the Smelter devolved from being a clean and modern facility as damaged parts were jury rigged, spills created stains, everything past its due date.  

Today the Smelter was unpleasant to work in, especially the production areas.  Even the air in human resources stank.  Workers in production areas wore masks.  And were angry.  Their work was vital, yet the colony hated the pollution.  They worked in a hellish environment with heat and molten iron, the manufacturing equipment often unreliable.  They felt they were on the colony’s bottom rung–below the rung, somewhere under the floor. 

A lot of Antonio’s job as head of human resources was struggling to keep the workers satisfied.  He regularly wrote reports to Council of needed repairs and relief for the workers.  Each report was copied to the workers so they knew they were being represented.  That sort of worked for the first decade of Antonio’s time.  Now the pollution was worse, the factory equipment teetering on failure.  Antonio was not surprised they revolted against Council, forming their own organization. 

At least they told him first.  He told them it was lose-lose for everyone.  Them and himself. 

These days, Councillor Newman spent a lot of time with him in the Smelter.  At first, Antonio thought Newman was trying to learn Smelter operations, to support them.  He could use Newman.  Antonio twiddled his thumbs, trying to think through his next step.  His work these days was defending the workers while navigating everyone’s hostility.  His wife Martina should be helping him.  Instead, she’d become part of the problem, on the Council’s side.  Life at home had grown as tough as at work. 

It was…unsettling. 

He looked out the small window in his office.  Gray outside.  He wished he worked outside, away from people and all their problems which became his problems.  He wished he worked on Earth.  Earth had its own problems, but at least you could mostly breathe the air.  Maybe not for a long time outside the domed cities, but you could.

Farha disliked the Smelter.  Her supervisor listened in on her calls, probably monitored her emails.  She did not want to betray her bestie, she did not want to work under a cloud.  Better to leave, to the Farm.  And she loved her dad, Cary, who was the head Farmer.  The Farm was not thriving, she knew from dinner table conversations the last few years.  The dome was covered with patches, the dome material scarred and discoloured.  She did not think air was supposed to look like this.  The light and air were increasingly poor for plant growth.

She was already in the regulation overalls, a belt around her waist with tools.  Around them was the farm—acres of carefully tended land filled with struggling green crops.  Large barns and a pasture.  One barn held only chickens, the fastest, easiest protein that reproduced itself.    

“Dad, you’ve talked about it, and I’ve visited, but now I’m here, this whole area…”  He looked at her expectantly.   “…the plants don’t look good, neither do those cows.  Nothing is thriving.”

“Yeah.  You have to see it first hand, these days.”  He smiled.  “The soil is tired.  Once we brought in Martian soil, to rejuvenate it.  Stopped doing that fifty years ago, due to cost.  Fertilizer made up the difference.  Now we still make it but there’s less.  That’s why the plants are struggling.  That, and pollution from the smelter and dim light.” 

“So dad.  What do I do?  Where do I start?”

“Try everything here.  Learn it.  Help plow the fields.  Feed the animals.  Help with fertilizer.  Spend some time every day in each area.  It will help put farming in your blood.  Though it’s already there, eh?” 

She smiled.  “I’ve heard about it since I can remember.  Even when I wasn’t listening.” 

He held her arm affectionately.  “Glad you’re here.” 

“They want me to spy on Shallot.” 

“Ignore them,” he told her, his voice gentle.  “I’ll run interference.  Relax–if you can.  Let the Farm sink in.  Farming is meditation, if you do it right.  Growing crops and yourself. 

“Actually, you are special here.  Mars and Me.  Some of the staff are playing already but they need help understanding the game.  I went into it last night, after I heard about the changes made by you and Shallot and your friend..  You mentioned it during dinner, remember?  Hon, going into that game was an eye-opener. 

“If it’s okay with you, do your farm work in the afternoons.  In the mornings, teach the other farmers about the game.  Talk with the NPGs.  Learn what you can.  An office is set aside for you.  Everyone understands.  Actually, the staff want you to show them how to play.” 

“They need to start with their mirror NPGs.”  She relaxed, even as she felt increasing responsibility.  “I’m in, dad.”

The future is us cooperating with the NPGS.  Otherwise, we’ll all slowly starve.”   

“Jesus, dad.”  She took a deep breath.   

“Well, that’s what’s coming.” 

“If we stop playing, if the colony dies, so do they.  They depend on us.  For electricity to power the game if nothing else.”  She looked up.  “What’s up with the dome?  No one’s working on it.” 

The Dome Workers’ meeting was the tensest they’d ever had. 

Dan and Warren took centre stage, recounting the rope’s failure, their dumb luck it was spotted in time and that Dan hadn’t plummeted to his death.  Other workers spoke of their own frightening experiences, of previous complaints.  That Council had not funded replacing the fraying ropes inflamed them.  They voted to perform no more dome work until all ropes were replaced with iron chains similar to those used for the pulleys. 

The uncompromising statement was immediately sent to Council—and the other worker groups.  Exhausted from the tiring overtime shifts, the meeting was kept short, everyone leaving satisfied, going home to rest.  And worry about the dome.  But they could not seal cracks without knowing the colony prioritized their safety, that their work was not a death trap. 

None of them wanted to stop the repair work but they saw no choice. 

Dan and Warren left after the meeting winded down, returning to their apartment, where they poured synthacol into glasses, drank, refilled. 

“Tastes like spit,” Dan muttered. 

“The Farm can’t grow the barley or whatever anymore,” Warren told him, taking another sip.  “Same alcohol content.  Tonight I need alcohol.  Weird there’s never a hangover.  Remember those?” 

“Barely.  Barely barley.”  He poured a third round for both of them.  “We really not going back up?” 

“We’re responsible for the colony’s safety.  We have to.  But can’t work if we drop like bad dreams.”  Warren sighed.  “It’s all a bad dream.”

“Don’t be a nihilist, buddy.”

“What if the Council balks?  I heard they’ve postponed the election.” 

“Yeah, indefinitely, an hour ago.  The Smelter will create iron chains for us.  There’s no choice.” 

“I keep thinking of the rope breaking and you falling down.  Keep seeing it.”  He sighed.  “I’m tired of this.  Give your boy some sugar.” 

They kissed. 

Wendy and Peter wanted to kiss but they stood at the back of the crowded meeting room.  All the underground workers were there.  Word had just come through from the Dome Workers about refusing to continue work.  That information, starting the meeting, predictably led to agitated discussion of their own working conditions—slippery ice, bursting pipes, worn suits which occasionally popped a leak.  For them, years of poor maintenance were also a long simmering concern.  The Underground Workers voted to send a similar statement to Council.  No further work until the proper pipe replacements were ready, no further work until the suits were all repaired. 

If Council refused, water which just began flowing would be stopped again.  Until the work was safe and doable. 

Wendy and Peter chatted with their colleagues until the room was empty, then returned back to their apartment, filled all their water bottles and ate a cold dinner.  They occupied themselves with that, glancing occasionally at each other. 

After dinner, in bed, naked, they finally spoke to each other. 

“Want to make a baby?” Peter asked. 

“Do you?”

“I feel optimistic.  We’re finally doing something to change our lives.” 

She rolled over on top of him and they finally kissed, arms around each other, holding tight. 

15

The Famous Next Morning [i.e. The Morning After]

It was the morning after the workers’ groups had sent Council their demands.  It was another morning with no water and limited power.  Madeline called an emergency Council meeting for early the next morning (for Council, that meant 10.)  The prior evening, by video conference, Council voted to postpone the election—indefinitely.  Now the Water and Dome workers were on strike.  The Dome might wait but not the water.  Something had to be done.  It was the morning after, time for consequences. 

Madeline told them each of them, in each call, that the only real solution was compromise.  Ceding power.  Reducing Council’s power.  The key Councillor blocking compromise and abandoning the election, was Newman.  She knew it was power play time.  The Councillors wanted a leader.  Who had dramatic solutions.  Compromise had already begun, with the failed election rally. They needed a way forward. 

They all had the evening, and night, to think about the situation, their personal stakes.  No one wanted their career to evaporate–except Madeline.  Now it was the next morning.  The morning after hard decisions, when consequences must be faced.  When she faced consequences.

Madeline woke with Mike still there.  Consequences.  She’d asked him to leave before she woke.  She could not face him any longer.  Annoyed, she reminded him she needed down time before the meeting.  He apologized and quickly left, quietly shutting the door behind him.  She made strong coffee with bottled water, made some toast. 

Newman ate breakfast alone, as always. 

Marjorie ate with one of her daughters and a grandchild.   Shallot waited upstairs as her parents ate breakfast and left, only then coming downstairs.  Her great grandfather ate crackers with peanut butter, sitting alone in his kitchen, looking at the lovely red rose in the vase.  He added a little sugar to the water.

Madeline carefully dressed in pastels.  She stood alone in her apartment, leaning on her cane, looking at the closed front door.  She was glad he was gone.  She was about ready to dump him.  He’d been acting oddly.  Worse, she was embarrassed, finally, at her semi-secret relationship.  She spent some time looking at herself in the mirror.  Watching her face grow composed, calm.  It was a trick her father taught her.  Your enemies should only see what you wanted.  He also said relaxing outside helped you inside. 

Keeping an eye on the time, she left her apartment and walked to City Hall.  Colonists she passed barely acknowledged her.  In the old days, they’d stop to chat.   Reaching City Hall, she saw Sally walking up the front steps.  Mike was not far behind, wearing fresh clothing, including a pressed dark suit.  He had dressed for something important.

The three walked together into the Council chambers, the first to arrive.  Madeline wanted to watch the others walk in, to check their expressions and body language.  Her face was calm. That was easier than inner calm.   

This would be very difficult.  There may never be another election, at least not for an unpredictably long time.  The role and even the existence of Council was a question mark.  The colony had to continue.  The water and dome work had to continue.  Or they would all be dead.  Despite her calm demeanour, Madeline felt tense and (her recent favourite word) unsettled.  Colonists had no respect for Council, that was obvious.  Nor did they have respect for her.  She sat in the Mayor’s chair, waiting, unable to think she deserved better.   

Madeline was wary when Newman walked in, his aide Jim behind him.  Newman was the most resistant last night to postponing the election.  He believed he would win.  He would be predictably resistant this morning.  She saw he appeared confident, underneath tense.  Welcome to the club.  Guiding him and Council was normally tough, today probably impossible.

Marjorie came in, followed by her aide.  She only wanted to build escape ships.  Madeline and the other Councillors wanted realistic solutions.  Newman wanted power.  Looking at him take his seat, he in turn eyeing everyone there.  The atmosphere was chilly.  In the last few weeks, perhaps months, he had built a power base.  Among Councillors and workers.  Previously, he never felt like a genuine threat.  Too blustery.  Too proud.  Too annoying, with his fake blonde hair and self-absorption. 

When the Councillors were all present and seated, their aides behind them, Madeline took a breath.  A deep breath.  And cleared her throat.  They all looked at her.  “To bring us up to speed.  You should all have copies of the demands from the dome and water workers.  Water has given us two days to make a decision.  With the election postponed, this Council remains in power.” 

Newman snorted. 

“Similar demands from the Farmers and Smelter workers are expected,” she continued.  “We need water, first.  And for Smelter production to continue.”  Marjorie took out her knitting, it helped her concentrate.  Mittens.  Other Councillors listened, stoney faced.  Newman glared at her.  “We capitulate, for now.  Somehow.  To restore production, water and power.  Then we work with them to prevent future disruptions.  Councillors, I submit we have no choice.”  She chose not to add they all should consider resigning.  Clear the field.  

“There is a choice,” Newman spat out, leaning forward, intense, tapping his finger hard on the large table, a loud sound in the quiet room.  “The workers have to be mollified, yes.  Their equipment must be safe.  But no individual worker group should have priority or any such control.  We have responsibilities.”

“Perhaps before taking that position, we should hear more,” Madeline told the silent, tense room. “It will take five working days to create enough new iron pulleys to satisfy all the dome workers.  And the water workers need their suits repaired, updated.  All that puts more strain on Smelter production, which will increase air pollution.  On top of that, we’re running out of sealant for the dome.

“For water, the first larger patches will be sent to the workers tomorrow.  The rest, over the next few days, perhaps a week and a half.  So a week without steady water, or power.  Time for considering, delaying is past.  We must decide now.”  The Councillors looked at each other, at her.  The air smelled of sweat.  The Councillors shifted, uncomfortable.  Only Newman was confident.  “Our future is uncertain, but for Council to even exist, we must keep our colony stable.  We have to share power with the workers.  Whether we want to or not.  Assuming we have power to share.” 

Most Councillors looked at Newman.  “What do you say?” one asked.

“I say, to exist we must be necessary,” Newman snapped.  He slapped the table to emphasize his anger, his point.  “To be necessary, we must do more than coordinate.  We must lead.  The Mayor’s plan is a road to disaster.”

Madeline leaned back, eyebrows raised.  “No, it’s simple realism.”

He shook his head, running his hand through his styled blonde hair, which was mostly a wig.  “Caving is not a plan.  We need water and power back online.  First, Council should not take the blame for any of this.  The blame’s on the workers, on Earth refusing resources, not on us.  We’re public servants.  Council must continue as the central source of power.  Mars will never be great again if we end democracy.” 

“Is it the end?” Madeline asked quietly, “or the beginning?  We’re a village.  We all know each other.  Power can be shared.  Should be shared.  Isn’t that what voting is?”

“No.  You’re all wrong.  We all need to take time to think on these issues,” Newman told them, standing.  He knew the Councillors were anxious to meet with their aides.  They all felt threatened.  Their careers were falling apart.  Newman wanted them desperate.  They all began to walk out, glancing at each other.    

“One more thing,” Madeline said before anyone left the room, Newman already by the door.  “Marjorie.  The evacuation ships.  What’s really possible?”

Marjorie put her knitting in her bag.  Her aide took the bag.  “It will take years to build just one ship.  If we can complete a space worthy vehicle, it could take perhaps twenty percent of us.  We can’t build a bigger one, we’d miss every deadline.”

“And if it works, what about the eighty percent left?”

“There won’t be enough of them to keep the colony going.  They won’t last a year.” 

She heard the grunts.  “Councillors, I agree with Councillor Newman.  We take a day, talk with staff, constituents.  Our deadline from the groups is two days.  We meet first thing tomorrow morning.  9 a.m.  Agreed?”

More grunts.  No one disagreed with the unusually early time.  They fled, leaving Madeline alone with Mike and Sally. 

“Good news, bad news, worse news.”  Madeline sighed. 

“Hard to say,” Mike said.  “Newman’s going to make a play.  Tomorrow.  At the next meeting.  Whatever his plan is, he acts like the time is ripe.”

Sally added, “Most Councillors want to blame the workers, say Council did the best it could.” 

“We postponed the election,” Madeline said.  “There may not be another.”  She sighed.  “I’m so weary of politics.  My whole life, what I’ve believed, my career, Well, I guess the workers will learn to coordinate themselves.  I’ve got faith in them.  It’s all up in the air, but I don’t feel like I’m floating.  Sally, could you check in with the other Councillors, see where they’re at?  I need to talk to Mike.”  Sally nodded and left, closing the door behind her. 

“What’s next?” Mike asked. 

She looked at him, could not  bring herself to do it.  “Food,” she replied.  “I have to talk to the farmers, the artificial food makers.  We won’t repair anything if we’re starving.”  She got her cane and started to go.

“Did you want me with you?”

“No.”

“Do you want to talk to me about something?” he asked, wary.

“Yes, but not now.  Later.  Too much now,” she dodged, adding, “I can’t do it,” leaving him alone in the large room.

“She wants the talk,” he said to himself, watching her leave.  “The bitch is going to dump me.  It’s over and so am I.”  Mike saw a mist in the air and thought it his career evaporating.

17

Food For Thought

I have to gather my strength and dump him, Madeline thought, walking down the front steps to her cart.  She held her cane, just in case.   It’s unsatisfying and he’s gotten weird.  She got in the cart and drove.  She wanted to be away from City Hall.  Need to be away from the rooms and walls.  The Farm has open fields.  And Cary does not mind if I use my caneI need a break. 

She met Cary in his office and they chatted as he led her to a farm cart, knowing walking was painful for her.  She used her cane.  They drove through the large farm.  It looked worse than her last visit a few months ago.  Many of the animals were thin.  New seedlings struggled.  Growing for them was as painful as walking for her.  She connected with the withered, confused animals.

“Doesn’t help water’s on and off,” Cary told her.  “It was the only element we had enough of.  Our emergency water will run out in five days.  We need water well before them, so save what crops we have.  I hear the new pipes are smaller, easier to repair, to prevent more breakdowns.  Less water is bad for us.”

“The crops don’t look happy.” 

“Half the size they should be.  We’ll have a harvest but it will be poor.  Next year, worse.  Less fertilizer.  Pollution clouding the light.” 

She looked at him.  “And the other plants?” 

“Fine.  Less water, dimmer light.  Doesn’t seem to matter.” 

“Can I see?  It’s been a while.” 

He led her to a large barn, all doors locked.  He used a key on the front door and they entered a large, well-lit space, the lights a bit dim–engineered to be identical to the light from the Martian sky, if the plants were outside billions of years ago.  There were no windows.  After they walked a few feet, they stood before a cleared, plowed area, about half the barn’s floor.  The ceiling lights focused on it.  In the field were several long rows.  Of plants.  Martian plants.  They grew to six feet tall, tall as a colonist, in Martian earth. 

The plants were an orangey brown, with very thick stems supporting branches with large orangey brown leaves.  Rooted in the soil, the plants turned towards them as they approached.  Turning in unison, as if of one mind.  Or a community mind.  Turning because the eyes saw them.  Each plant, at the join of branch to stem, had a large eye.  Each plant had several unblinking large eyes, turning to them as they walked up.

“Any idea what they are?” she asked.

“Martian plants.  They communicate with each other.  We register impulses.  We’re pretty sure they’re conscious and intelligent.  We like to believe they’re friendly.  That they would communicate with us, if they could.  Thirty years, this is it.  All we know.  Grew them from seed, from the unfiltered water.  They haven’t generated their own seeds yet.  They’re just…there.  Staring.  Some eyes are pink, some red, a few are blue.”

They stopped a few feet away, looking.  The plants looked back.  As Madeline approached, the eyes focused on her.  She looked into an eye.  It was…unsettling. 

“Hello?” she asked.  No answer.    

The Martian plants were a semi-secret.  The first question, when the seeds sprouted outside, in the plowed fields, as could these new plants be an indigenous food crop?  The growing seeds were transplanted when found to the barn, where the farmers tried to duplicate ideal Martian growing conditions.  It turns out, all they needed was warmth and water. 

Thoughts of eating the plants fell apart.  The eyes made the colonists guilty.  There was intense discussion about what to do as they grew larger.  The plants communicated with each other somehow, were possibly intelligent.  The farmers refused to kill one, much less autopsy it.  So the plants thrived while vital Earth crops grew weaker.    

Madeline felt the eyes follow her as she walked beyond them, to the animals at the rear of the barn. 

Cows, goats, rabbits, chickens.  Many emaciated, all suffering inexplicable mutations.  One cow had five legs.  Several chickens had two heads.  The cause was unknown.  It started about twenty years earlier.  The farmers were convinced it was poorly filtered water.  Perhaps also more solar radiation leaking through the dome than the Council acknowledged, when open cracks let some through.  Cary and the other farmers were convinced Council knew more than it told the public, and that the problems with plants and animals were the proof. 

Madeline walked outside, solemn.  He closed and locked the door behind them.  As a child, she remembered full fields of green crops.  Now a few fields were barren.  The existing crops were half the normal size.  And not a happy green. 

“Water is being worked on,” she told him.  “For fertilizer, we have to return to using Martian soil, somehow.  The lack of resources stopped us going outside to harvest more.  We must find an affordable way.  Additional lighting will have to be created for the fields.  We’ll need your help in designing them.  And, of course, pollution controls.  Somehow.” 

“Weve known all that for years,” he replied.  “Sorry.  Council has done nothing.  I know resources were limited, but still.  That’s why we’ve formed a group, to lobby for the Farm.  We know what we need.  By the way, don’t know if I’d have done better.”

“You want more colonists working here?” she asked. 

“Not until there’s something for them to do,” he replied. 

“Cary, we’re best when our backs are against the wall.” 

“Uh huh.”

They walked to the artificial food plants.  The first was built around ten years ago, then eventually three others were built to supply a form of food to hungry colonists, supplementing natural food.  They were built on the Farm to be close to the original main ingredient—food crop remains, including leaves and stalks.  Eventually those ran out and these days the main ingredient of the food colonists ate, in various shapes and tastes, was mostly created from microplastics. 

Inside one building they walked between large vats, full of bubbling, constantly stirred brown liquid, Madeline using her cane.  The smell was sweet.  Production had reached its limits. 

They walked out of the plant and into the administration building, where he took her to Farha, sitting alone in an office at a desk, notebook open.  She looked up when they walked in. 

“You know Farha,” Cary said. 

“Sure.  My granddaughter’s friend.  Your daughter.” 

Farha smiled at them, waved. 

“I’ve had her looking at Mars and Me.  It’s changed, you know.”  He said to Farha, “What have you learned so far?  Tell her too, we share everything on the Farm.”

Madeline sighed.  “We don’t know anything about the disease,” she told him quietly.  “Truly.  Nothing.” 

He nodded.    

“Sure.  Hi,” she said to Madeline, who managed a smile.  “First, I went through the whole farm.  Including whatever those Martian plants are and the animals.  Then I came back here and entered the game.  Since then, I’m in the game each morning, the Farm each afternoon.  Well, I started here yesterday.  Feels like a year ago. 

“I added the information I knew about the plants and mutations.  I’ve chatted with Shallot and Aaliyah, much as I could, while the game absorbed the new information.  I’ve spent the last few hours chatting with farmer NPGs.  You’d like them,” she told Madeline.  “They want to make them and us better.  We’re holding them back.  They’re working on fertilizer solutions but think nothing can be done until the dome is cleared and more sun gets through.  They think artificial lights over all the fields isn’t practical.  They’re looking at affordable ways to haul in more Martian soil.

“They ate one of the plants, to see what happens.  Raw.  No NPG was infected with anything.  They’re discussing forcing more people to work on the crops, a conscription, young and old.  They tell me the Council has assigned a Councillor to represent each worker group, by the way.  That happened here yet?”  Madeline shook her head.  “Oh.  The game is steadily diverging from reality.  Becoming not our colony, but theirs.  Sort of.” 

“What does that mean?” Madeline asked, increasingly concerned about everything she had seen and heard during her break to get away from it all. 

“Well, it’s bendy,” Farha said, scratching her head.  “Maybe it’s predicting what we will do.  Maybe if we don’t do it, it’ll change back.  They can’t do what’s best for them, if they ignore us.  And they support us.  No us, no electricity, no game.  They don’t want to die.  If the real colony fails, the game is dead.” 

Madeline looked at her steadily.  “Can these NPG things do anything outside the game?  In the colony itself?” 

Farha thought a while.  “Well, the game directly connects to the main computer, which connects to everything.  Power, water pumps, air systems.”  She blinked.  “They aren’t a threat, Mayor.” 

Madeline tried to smile.  “I feel so relieved.”

“Sarcastic?  Have you been in the game?”

“Years ago.  Only for a few minutes.  Gaming felt like a waste of time.  Sorry.”

“No apologies necessary.  My dad here didn’t play either.  So.  Mayor.  They need reassurance we know what to do.”

“Tell them we’re thinking about it.  Tell them I agree there is a lot to do.  Tell them I want to work with them.”  She paused, blinking.  “My NPG is probably telling them that right now, isn’t she?  I’ll speak with her when I return to my office.  I will.” 

She frowned–too many new possibilities.  It was becoming exhausting.  She had to draw from her inner reserves–there weren’t many left.  She thanked Cary and Farha and returned to City Hall, determined.  She thought she knew what she had to do.  Went to her office, called in Sally.  Mike was out talking with Councillors.  She trusted Sally’s judgement on personal matters more.  Mike was too often a yes man.  And she needed to rid herself of him.

“Sally, you know that game?”

“A little, after I heard about changes.  Most people kept mentioning them.”

Madeline powered up her computer and opened Mars and Me.  Sally guided her through the initial screens and creating an avatar.  Then she was in the game, in City Hall, walking into her office.  She opened the door and saw the NPGs for herself and Sally sitting at the desk, looking up from the computer monitor. 

Madeline plunged in.  Hello, she typed to the Mayor. 

Ah, the alive Madeline, the NPG replied, looking into the camera.  The NPG looked very much like her.  Finally.  I could not reach out to you, could I?  You had to come here.

Madeline fumbled.  You’re the Mars and Me me

Welcome.  My world is a mess.  How’s yours?

As bad, I’m sure.  We share challenges.  I’m told you’re ahead of us.  

If you go, we go.  We must cooperate

Agreed.  I’m hoping for ideas.  New ideas.  I see Sally with you.  Where’s Mike? 

He did not meet my needs.  And getting creepy.  I reassigned him yesterday.  Sally’s head is better.  And, NPG Madeline grinned, she gives better head.  

The real Madeline blinked.  Then tried not to look at Sally, sitting next to her.  Uh, we’re looking at improving crop production first, but that takes a lot of people to bring in that much soil.  Too many people.  In a few years, we’ll starve. 

Agreed.  Yesterday, we began thinking about the lava tubes.

To grow crops underground?

No.  Too impractical.  But there is fresh soil in the lava tubes.  Martian soil, not only melted rock.  The soil may be relatively simple to bring up.  It isn’t only rock and ice down there

Madeline blinked again.  No one had suggested that.  It would be relatively simple to bring dirt from underground to aboveground.  The elevator systems were already built, the infrastructure waiting. 

Pollution and the Smelter is the next issue, the NPG Madeline continued.  We need to increase production while decreasing emissions.  A hole in the dome is a possibility, to vent it out.  We are not certain.  Currently, each former Councillor represents a worker group.  We do not know how that will work out.  There are a lot of personality conflicts.  The election is dead. 

The NPG Madeline looked at her and Madeline looked back.  Appreciate it.  Lots to do.  I’ll be back.  She signed out, sighed, and looked at Sally. 

Sally said, quietly, “Kind of like us, aren’t they.”  She took a breath.  “Ahem.  Well, then.  We don’t have to talk about everything, eh?  Shall we call Mike?  See how he’s doing?”

Madeline smiled, feeling something bubble up which she had suppressed for over a year.  “Sure.  Later.  Come closer.  I’ve never told you how beautiful you are.  I’ve been such a fool.”   

18

Mike

Mike knew bad news was coming his way.  Real bad news. 

He was pissed.  All that time and effort he’d put into her to get somewhere–now he was headed straight to nowhere.  Madeline was about to fire him, transfer him, render him obsolete.  Whatever.  He had gone into the game after his last talk with Madeline and saw what had already happened to his NPG, who now had a random assignment, was despondent.  

It was only a matter of time before she dumped him.  He’d hang on as long as possible, just in case.  But he was not stupid.  The signs were there.  It was over.  He felt strung out.  Too much to think about.  He anticipated this but had no way to plan.  It is hard to think while pretending to work knowing that work would soon end. 

He was underground, suited, inspecting the water pipe repairs.  Wendy was escorting him, while Peter worked on repairing a pipe with two smaller patches welded together.  Larger new patches had not yet arrived.  Wendy agreed to provide the tour but wondered why Mike was really down here—why Council was down here.  What was up?  Mike was chatty enough.  She was used to superficial interest from above–visiting when it served a politician’s needs.

He asked about the tubes, the ice, especially the dirt.  Wendy answered politely.  Upside people always had secrets.  Maybe he was talking with his NPG, talking of moving the soil from down here to up there was in the game.  Seeing her suspicious look, he directly asked about the mounds of soil, dug out of the lava tubes, whether it could be moved upstairs, as they were thinking of doing in the game.  She told him the water workers did not care about the dirt. 

He thanked her and walked back to the main building, stripped off the suit and entered  the elevator.  As he rode up, his phone chimed.  He looked at the call display.  Her.  He took a deep breath and pressed accept.

Madeline appeared on his phone.  She smiled, distantly.  She was riding on the cart, in the open.  He was confined to the elevator.  “You’re re-assigning me,” Mike blurted out before she could say anything.  “Your story is you can’t justify two aides.  Sally stays, I go.”

Madeline blinked. 

“I spent some time in the game,” he told her.  “My NPG and I had a chat.  He was axed yesterday.  Well, with us it was always artificial, wasn’t it?  Stress relief.  I was your stress relief.  Did you ever care about me?” 

He saw her shrug, shake her head. 

“My NPG told me they’re thinking of hauling up dirt from the lava tubes, rather than from outside.  |They’re onto something.  There’s tons of soil in the tubes, already piled up.  More can be easily dug from the walls.  And the elevators are already there.  Nothing has to be built.  Might take a while with the existing elevators, they’re for staff, not dirt.  But it would work.” 

“How long?”

“Less than two weeks for tons of soil to be topside.  Water would have to agree.” 

“Mike, you were right.  I need to make changes.  In my personnel, given the current situation.  You.  There are funds for a consultant, your new assignment is general.”

“General?”

“Invent it.”  

“Great.  Thanks.  That makes it so much better.  Anything else?” 

“Sorry.  I’m sure you’ll come out on top.” 

“I was on top.”

She ended the call. 

He walked slowly to his apartment.  Mike was in his late twenties.  He’d spent his working life as an ambitious attachment.  Nothing more.  More was supposed to be in the near future.  The future never arrived.  The politics were interesting, the work was involving, the stakes could not be higher.  His personal life had devolved into working until he fell asleep for the next day.  Career was satisfying, yet never truly.  Everything was compromise.  And now this.

He wanted a relationship but it always felt like too much work and a diversion from his real goals.  He casually looked but never made it past a first date.  Something about him put women off, put men off also.  He had friends, but they were singles like him, aides to politicians like him.  He’d meet them for drinks.  They remained friendly but distant, always listening for secrets.  His parents were long gone, he had no siblings.  He was a loner.    

Mike entered his large apartment, locked the door behind him.  He walked through the living room, kitchen, bedroom, washroom, looking.  He saw nothing but objects.  He felt alone.  He was already tired of being alone.  Now, he was even more alone. 

He balled his hand into a fist and punched through a living room wall. 

Re-assigned—to nowhere.  He would not miss sex with Madeline, you could never call it intimacy.  Part of the job.  Mike shivered, thinking about what he would miss—and realizing he would not miss all that much.  Except direct access to the Mayor.  Influencing her.  Part of the power structure.  Which no longer even existed.  He punched another hole in the wall. 

Screw feeling sorry for himself! 

He knew what he could do.  What he had to do.  To get some relief.  He needed relief.  Certainly he now had free time! 

He opened his notebook and entered the game and found his NPG double sitting in its apartment, at its notebook, waiting for him.  In the game, he opened the door to his NPG’s apartment and his avatar stepped inside. 

We’re both gone now?  Out?  Dumped? the NPG wrote.

Yeah, Mike replied.  Let’s do it again.  I’ll do it.  You can watch.   

In the game, Mike walked outside and across the street.  Phyllis lived across the street.  She was a snarly secretary at City Hall.  Correcting spelling mistakes in his reports.  Correcting him.  Being a pain.  Mike hated Phyllis.  This had been brewing for weeks. 

His avatar knocked on her door. 

He heard footsteps.  The door opened, revealing NPG Phyllis. 

Why Mike! she said.  What are you doing here?  Something wrong?  I’m off today.

I know, his avatar replied.  I know.  He ignored the NPGs casually walking by, on the sidewalk.  Phyllis, I never liked you.  In fact, I hate you.  He overrode the game’s controls and typed: strangle her.

His avatar’s hands gripped Phyllis’ throat.  Gripped hard.  Her eyes bulged.  She began to turn blue.

The animation was very realistic. 

Mike enjoyed the thrill.  This was a game.  He could do anything.  Including murder.  He had already done it but this time it felt unusually real.  As if he was actually choking her to death.  A glorious awake dream.

Strangle her harder.  Kill her.

Phyllis gurgled.  Eyes bulged more.  Her grasp at his hands grew weaker.  His avatar’s hands twisted until her tongue lolled lifeless from her open mouth.  His avatar dropped her.  NPG Phyllis fell to her front doorstep, dead. 

A moment later, Mike shook himself, as if waking, his notebook on his lap.  That kill had been amazing!  The best yet!  Better, there would be no consequences.  The real Phyllis was alive, unharmed.  Her NPG would regenerate within hours, memory of the death blanked.  That was why he could murder in the game and get away with it.  With the real colonist still alive, the game always regenerated the NPG. 

Strange, his shirt was torn where she’d clawed at him. 

The NPG Mike opened a video window.  What the hell? You killed the real Phyllis!  And there are witnesses!  You screwed me!  What the hell do I do now?  The NPG Mike cut his feed, panicking. 

Mike exited the game.  What did his NPG mean?   The real colonist was still alive.  What was in the game stayed in the game.  He had gotten away with murder, in the game.  For months.  And it felt so good.  It was marvelous for his stress. 

He was thinking about what his NPG had said when  he saw flashing red emergency lights through the window.  Heard sirens.  He walked to the window and saw a police car and ambulance pull up in front of Phyllis’ house, across the street.  There was a body on her doorstep.  Her body. 

Paramedics and police rushed out of their vehicles as people on the street watched.  Several spoke with the police, pointing to Mike’s apartment.  Mike saw paramedics huddle around the lifeless body.  It was the real Phyllis.  Dead.  Strangled. 

Dead.

But… but…he mentally stumbled in shock: I only killed her in the game!  In the game!  The police are looking at me looking at them through the window. 

Two are crossing the street towards me, looking up at me.  They’ll arrest me.  For murder.  But it was the game.  I don’t understand. 

The police did not bother to knock. 

Lust, On Mars Chaptters 6-11

6

Lust And Lost, On Mars

So many felt unsettled.  Something was wrong and thinking it was right was almost a crime.  By that evening there were few people out, many staying home to play the game.  Even colonists who never played computer games tried it—everyone said that, for the first time, the game was totally realistic about their lives.  

Sally and Mike were with Madeline in her apartment that evening, standing near her as she looked out at the colony.  The view from her apartment was not nearly as grand as from her City Hall office.  Mars and Me went unmentioned–they were unaware of the changes, not being gamers, none having children, except Madeline, who was estranged from her daughter.  They saw gaming as a waste of time.

“Talk to me,” she said, cane supporting her.  She always rose to the challenge—challenges.  To her the room smelled musky.  She felt a need to unleash, to throw away the damn cane, to more than glance at Mike (Sally knew but some things were best left unspoken.)  Although she was tiring of him.  He was a useful toy.  Had been useful.  Lately, he was odd, stressed. 

She did not want to deal with the stresses of a toy.  

She needed a personal relationship which was not… transactional.   

They spoke, she listened, leaning on the cane.  Her first campaign rally—and those of her opponents–was tomorrow.  Mike forecast low attendance—everyone knew her and what she would say.  Polls showed her two opponents outpaced her significantly.  Madeline was on track to lose, big.  No surprise.  She had seen it coming for weeks, months.  Years.  Problems increasing.  Colonists needing someone with new ideas.  With a new approach.  Throw out the old.

Madeline had always been a realist.

Sally added that colonists were not enamoured of her opponents either—they wanted real change.  They yearned for someone different to improve the colony, deal honestly with its problems–the pollution, the bug, the tedious work of their plodding days.  They could not go out and everything in was old, beyond a fresh coat of paint. 

Newman was the clear leader.  They believed him when he said he would make Mars great again.  No one else claimed to do that.  She also said that Mike pushing him as leader was destructive.  Mike looked at her and shrugged. 

Mike noted that isolation from Earth was an increasing concern.  Tourists dried up years earlier, after the disease emerged.  Promises that colonists could return to Earth were unkept and no longer believed.  Colonists felt abandoned, starting after the Continental Wars and the death of the billionaire who funded the colony.  The billionaire had been engrossed with the glory of humanity living on another planet—also, he saw promising commercial possibilities.  He could sell refined or unrefined ore.  Sell Mars rocks as souvenirs. 

But the market collapsed and the enormous cost of transporting minerals from Mars killed those commercial possibilities.  And Earth had its own problems, oddly similar to Mars—pollution, problems with holes in the ozone layer, people reluctant to have children, restless when not rebelling or retreating. 

“Yeah, I know,” Madeline told them.  “Enough for now.  I can’t face any more until tomorrow.  Thanks, Sally.  Appreciate it.  You can have what’s left of the evening off.”  Sally smiled, nodding.  Madeine saw Sally had already put her notebook into her backpack.  “Right, thanks.  Mike, a minute or two?  About…something else?” 

Sally left them, closing the door behind her firmly.  She went to her apartment, for a quiet evening, understanding what was happening behind the closed door.  Sally deeply respected Madeline.  More than respect.  She sighed and drank some synthowine. 

Madeline and Mike said good-bye.  He had not put his own notebook away.  He walked up to Madeline and kissed her, taking her into his arms.  Her taking him into her arms.  Kissed her warm.  Deep.  Madeline kissed back, hungry, eager to lose herself. 

“Mmmm, that’s better,” she purred.  “All day no sugar.  Mama wants her sugar.” 

He kissed her more deeply.  They stood hugging and fondling, kissing until their clothes lay on the floor and they lay on top of them.  She told him what to do, when and how to do it–though he already knew. 

She liked telling him. 

After extended foreplay, fondling and kissing and licking, she held onto him as he entered her.  “Hello,” she said, sighing with relief.  She seemed happy but he knew something was wrong.  She was getting ready to dump him.  But first, this. 

Since Madeline had been in her teens, sex had been about pleasure, which she eventually saw as a consolation prize for the often dreary colonial life, the hard work and stress.  A release. 

Her daughter had been a…mistake.  And Miranda always knew it.  Their relationship was distant, even when she was a child.  By then, Madeline was thoroughly engaged with politics and her career.  She only really connected later, with her granddaughter and her father.  Her relationships could be difficult, with her daughter an act.

At least she felt something real during sex. 

She felt him move inside her and wrapped her legs around his pumping hips.  He knew what she liked, gave it to her.  After they came, close together (her first, as always), they lay naked on the floor, sweating.  Fondling him, encouraging another erection, Madeline murmured, “Again.” 

“Not just yet, hon.” 

She smiled.  “I thought you were full of it.”   

“All the time.  Just need a moment, eh?”

“Of course, all the time you need.”  She stood and poured them two glasses of synthowine, then swayed naked to the bedroom.  He sighed, followed.  Her bed was more comfortable than the floor. 

In their bedroom, Martina, Madeline’s daughter and Shallot’s mom, sipped cheaper synthowine.  Small burning candles around the bed lit the room, set up by Antonio.  She passed the glass to him.  He sipped away the rest.  A half bottle lay between them.

“Shall we?” Jim asked, fondling her right breast, the closest. 

“I guess,” she replied.  “Love you big boy.  You want it, you get it.”

“You’re a goddess.”  He climbed on top of her and she went through the motions.  “Feels good,” he said, panting.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” 

“Never have yet.  What’s up, hon?  Am I doing something wrong?” 

“Never.  Go for it.”  And she lay there and did her best, smiling while he pumped and moaned until he had an orgasm.  Fairly quickly, thank God.  Then he slumped, kissed her and rolled onto his side of the queen bed. 

“Can we talk?” she asked quietly. 

“’Bout what?  Mmmm.”

“Jim, don’t you think we’re a little old to do it so much?”

“So much?  Newman doesn’t think so.  We talked about it during his visits to the Smelter.”

“You talk about us?  With him?  He’s going to visit Administration next week, my office.”

He looked at her.  “It’s me, isn’t it?”  She shook her head.  “Then what?  This come up at that women’s book group?” 

“Not exactly.”  She shook her head again.  “It’s no one else.” 

“Then what?”

“…I’m bored.”

“Different positions?”

“I want to make love.  Not have sex.  I rarely come.  Doesn’t that bother you?” 

“Sorry.”  He smiled.  “Look, sorry it didn’t work just now.  Really.  I should’ve warmed us up.  We can fix this.  Can I get you anything?”

“Three tickets to Earth.  I don’t want Shally growing up here.  Not anymore.” 

He gave her a smile.  “What choices do we really have?  We’re stuck here and have to make the best of it, eh?  We were born here.  Know the place.  And at least we don’t have the bug, like her friend George.”   

On his bed in the Clinic, George felt he had to make the best of it. 

He sat at in his room, alone, looking at his glistening erect penis in his hands.  He used to close his eyes, years ago, imagine things.  Lately he did not bother, there was no need.  He fondled and pumped, using the lube the Clinic conveniently provided.  There was the camera in the ceiling.  They would know.  Maybe were watching. 

George didn’t care. 

He pumped and fondled and felt it building, that great tingle, then he was spurting come.  It shot up, hitting the ceiling, making a stain–joining the other stains on the ceiling.  As he calmed down, he went from feeling lust to feeling gross.  He slumped back, letting his hands fall away from his limp penis, wiping his hands and groin with a handy cloth.  Panting, he looked at the ceiling.  Third time today.  Nothing else to do. 

Pleasuring himself had become boring.  The Clinic had given him a notebook. 

He put it on his lap, over his damp penis, and powered up.  The notebook could not send emails or connect to a social network—he was in isolation.  However, it allowed him to play Mars and MeThat was only a game. 

When he opened the game, a box popped up, advising he was in a restricted situation and could not communicate with other players.  He could not connect with Shallot, as he expected.  He clicked Ok.

Another box popped up, inviting him into Shallot’s new saved game.  He entered it and was wowed it had changed so much.  He quickly learned just where the real colony was at, talking with NPGs.  He was excited for the first time that day. 

Councillor Newman stood naked in his bedroom, alone, facing the full-length mirror on the wall, admiring how his body gleamed with oil as he fondled his chest and groin, admiring his erection.  He had already come once but knew the second time was longer, less rushed, even better.  He slid a hand up and down his erection, stroking his hard flesh.  Newman lived alone, had no partner except his hands.  He grunted.  There was much to do, but he always made time for this.  Otherwise, what was the point? 

Councillor Marjorie lay on her bed, watching the news, drifting off to sleep.  It had been a long day.  She felt old, did not mind at all.  Tomorrow would be a big day, her first rally.  She had to be pumped.  She would provide details about her major plank: building escape rockets back to Earth.  Now was the time to rest.

 “You back out of the clouds?  Up for it again?” Aaliyah asked Charlie, pumping his wet penis gently. 

“You were great,” he replied. 

They lay on the bed naked, same age, had known each other since day care.  They started screwing a few months ago.  Neither was in control in the relationship, neither wanted control. 

He suggested Fizz. 

“Fizz?” Warren asked.  “Thanks, we’ve had enough.”

“I’ve had enough,” Dan replied, spooning.  “That was lovely.  Peas in a pod.”

“Speaking of which, I have to pee,” Warren replied.  “And I’ve had enough.”

“Thought you never had enough.” 

Warren grinned.  “Never enough of you.”

“You’re sweet.  So whaddya wanna do?” Dan asked.

“Pee.  You?”   

“Get back on the dome and fix leaks.  Can’t believe I said that.” 

“We only got off shift a few hours ago.  We ate and screwed.  There’s more to life, buddy.”  Warren tried, grinning.

“There won’t be life if we don’t seal the old cracks and stop new ones.” 

Warren looked at him, sighing.  He put out scissors, Dan rock.  “Two out of three?”

“Let’s call in.  By the way, I’ve gotten invites to join a new saved game on Mars and Me.  Supposed to be something else.” 

“Let’s call in, take a look at the game, hit the shower, then suit up.”

Shallot sat on her bed, alone, unsatisfied.  Mom and Dad were in their bedroom.  Everyone’s door was closed.  Since her friends left, she had sent all her time in the game.  Talking with her NPG, talking with other NPGs, talking with player avatars.  The changes were fascinating, some big, some small.  The NPGs had developed a different connection with the colony.  The game continued to duplicate current activities by players, changes in the colony.  But the game also now anticipated these events.  Unlike the colony, the NPGs had created unions, worker organizations to directly address colony issues. 

The existing democratic structure was faltering more clearly than in the real colony. 

It wasn’t like talking with real people.  Before they responded stiffly, the AI obvious.  Now the NPGs were distracted, distant, always returning to their own issues.  Well, perhaps it was like talking with real people. 

Sitting here feeling sorry for herself was stupid.  She had to climb out of this rut.  She ran her fingers over the notebook’s display.  The new version of the game was her ladder up, starting on the bottom rung of this mess, climbing step by step into a better world.  She would already start tomorrow up one rung and ready to climb. 

She would work with the NPGs first.  They were already steps ahead. 

7

New Mornings

Shallot and Aaliyah and Charlie and Farha and George started the morning waking alone in their beds.  Nothing felt different.  Shallot got out of bed, determined.  Aaliyah and Farah were slower, staying in bed another few minutes, waking up.  George looked at the dried stains on the ceiling.  The lubricant was where he’d left it yesterday afternoon.     

New mornings on Mars.

Dan and Warren, at the top of the dome in radiation-proof suits, neared the end of their extra shift, looking at the distant sun rise.  Morning.  Each morning, they knew from the super realistic game, they woke to a life harder—more problems, more uncertainty, more work.  They believed yesterday that patching the dome had a reasonable chance.  Now they believed it was delaying the inevitable.  The dome would fail, probably in their lifetime, as the game predicted.  They felt doomed, while continuing to put sealant on an emerging crack.

Dan looked down at the colony.  It was waking up, except for the overnight shifts.  “Going to vote?  Campaign starts today.”

“Don’t think so.  It’s all about power,” Warren told him.  “The Mayor, someone else.  Doesn’t matter.  None of them have come up with real solutions.  We need change.  I think it’s up to us, not them.”  Warren looked at his partner.

“Yeah.  We’re the ones dangling up here.  Ain’t no sugar up here.” 

Madeline woke to Mike sucking her.  “Mmmm.  More, sugar lips,” she murmured. 

He began using his hands.  “Lots to do today, sweets.  Campaign kick off tonight.” 

“No one else can protect the colony.  Certainly not Newman.  Somehow I must fix this mess.” 

Aaliyah wondered how Charlie was doing.  Charlie wondered how Aaliyah was. 

Farah ate a reasonably cheery breakfast with her mom and dad.  He wanted her to transfer from the Smelter to the Farm, where he and her mom had worked their whole lives. 

George, alone in his room, felt himself get yet another woody.  Something was driving him, deep inside.  More than one.  He thought they liked the excitement of sex.  He felt lumps move inside his neck and chest.  He tasted something funny when he drew a breath.  He looked at his penis, a separate part of him, almost alien, often acting all on its own.  Like nothing else in his body.    

Instead of fondling himself, George booted up the game to explore the medical information inside the new world.  There was plenty of new stuff, which was satisfying but not enough to be helpful.  The bug was also a mystery to the NPGs.  “Screw this.”  He’d had enough of jerking off and being observed.  He did not want to die.  He wanted to live, work, have a life.  He would not have it, remaining in this small room. 

Shallot’s parents woke, showered, went to work and, after an hour, exercised on office treadmills with their colleagues.  It was good to work up a mild sweat, clean off in the washrooms, change back into work clothes and continue their day in Admin and the Smelter.  They wondered how Shallot was, worried their daughter had such deep concerns.  And not only that she was delaying becoming a woman.  They had heard rumours she was involved in making changes to that computer game.  At work, people were talking about the changes, mostly the colonists under thirty. 

Shallot yawned, stretched, got out of bed and looked out the window.  The city looked the same.  She went downstairs.  Her parents were gone.  Shallot poured herself some orange juice and returned to her bedroom and spent an hour brushing her hair.  That felt good.  She liked the ritual. 

Fully awake, she had important stuff to do.  Finally. 

Sitting on the bed, she powered up her notebook and entered the game.  Her inbox was full.  Everyone knew she was the Mayor’s daughter and assumed she had an inside track.  Most players were angry, frightened at the alarming situation they found in the game.  The NPGs were more upset, having had the past six months altered, giving them plenty of time to think.  They were conflicted, programmed to mirror their real-life counterparts but wanting something very different.  Their own lives. 

In the game’s election campaign, there were still only three candidates and zero interest in them.  The NPGs felt the election was irrelevant.  New leadership was desperately needed.  Or a whole new approach.

She left the game.  There was someone she had to speak with.  She thought of sending a text, then picked up her phone for a meeting.  This was personal.  She had to start being honest with everyone and knew who she must start with. 

The call was answered at the second ring.  “Hello?”

“Nan?”

“Morning, onion.  What’s up?”  Madeline sounded a little out of breath.

“Nan, I did something.  With my friends.  It might affect the election.  You should know about it, but I guess is you don’t.   Can I come over?  Now?  It’s super important, Nan. Can’t tell you on the phone.  Too personal.” 

She heard Nan’s voice change, entering a combination of Mayor and Great Grandmother.  “Of course.  If it’s that important, meet me in half an hour in my office.”  Nan hung up, saying to someone else, “Gotta go,” who yawned. 

Shallot quickly showered and dressed, then hurried to City Hall, a quick walk.  She entered her grandmother’s office within the half hour.  Nan sat stood as Shallot entered, leaning on the desk.  Her cane leaned against the desk, near her.  Mike and Sally stood on either side of her, smiling.  Both looked frayed. 

Shallot walked up to them.  “Good morning.  I’m here about the colony’s computer game.”

Mars and Me?” Madeline said, looking at her, starting to think she did not have time for this.  She thought it was important.  Yet Shallot was urgent, and Shallot had always been sensible. 

“The game?” Mike asked, alert.  “What about it?”

“Yesterday, me and two of my friends created a new saved game.  We altered the parameters and set them to start six months go.  The game has been updated with information about our problems.  Scary information.  Now the game is super real.  Most everyone my age is playing it.  And colonists are upset by what they find.”

“Altered parameters?” Mike asked.  His eyes twitched.    

“You play?” Shallot asked. 

Mike managed a shrug.  “Not in a few weeks.  It’s diverting.”   

“In the new version, the story is tougher than we admit here.  The dome will fail within fifty years.  Maybe less.  But by then the colonists will all have starved to death.  The crops are already failing, and in five years or less, no food at all.  Pollution will be worse.  So far the NPGs want to change but the game mirrors real life, so we have to start changing.  The NPGS are already changing.  They are ahead of us.”

“Anything else?” Madeline asked, glancing at Mike, who suddenly was subtly anxious.

“Most NPGs don’t take council seriously.  The election campaign is vapour.  The NPGs believe the election will collapse, replaced by something else.  They’re figuring out what to do.

“Each area of workers has created their own union.  Farmers, dome workers, smelter workers, underground water workers and administration.  Each group lobbies the Councillors for change.  Right now, it’s chaos.  Each group says it’s most important.  Each wants top priority.  So far there is a lot of arguing but nothing’s settled.  The game shows us our future.” 

Shallot paused, looking at them.  “I made the changes yesterday, with a few of my friends.  Maybe I should have told you first.  Sorry.  Anyway, everyone I know is playing it.  When the colony itself reacts, starts to change, the game follows.  Or we may follow the game.  It’s all kind of confusing, all the relationships between us and the game are reforming. Go into the game.  Talk to your NPG.  They’ll tell you.” 

“Sure,” Mike said, looking at her, something hidden behind his eyes. 

“…okay,” Madeline finally said, looking away from him to Shallot.  “That’s a lot to absorb.  First, onion, I appreciate your telling me this, coming here.  My next thought is, the game uses our most powerful computer.  Perhaps we can find some new ideas through it.  I agree we need shaking up. 

“Onion, being Mayor is hard.  Lots harder than I thought before I was Mayor.  I’d love to retire.  Maybe I can, if together we find a better way, eh?  Love you, onion.”

She and her granddaughter hugged.  Madeline looked at her grand-daughter proudly.  “You’re very grown up, and just sixteen.  What’s next for you today?”

“Finding work.  I should have a job.  It’s part of clearing up my life.  I’m seeing my guidance counsellor.  Almost all my friends have been assigned by now.” 

Madeline patted her shoulder.  “You don’t want me pulling strings?”

“Never asked before.  This is no different.”

Madeline smiled.  “Good luck.  You won’t find any work, yes?   We’ve talked about that.  But you have to see for yourself.  Call me after, if you want.  I’m always available.”  She wasn’t, of course, but she did try to be.

It was a short walk from City Hall to the School, which had shrunk over the years from three schools—elementary, middle, high school—to one, as new births declined.

“Hello, again, Shallot.  Have you thought about which entry level position best suits you?” Mrs. Hatherall asked, smiling pleasantly as they sat in her office.  Mrs. Hatherall was in her fifties, hair carefully swept into a beehive, dressed in clothing that was older but well maintained.  A small fan on her desk moved the still air. 

Shallot nodded and smiled her in-school smile.  “Water is important.” 

Mrs. Hatherall smiled less pleasantly.  “I am afraid that is restricted.  You would require a security clearance.” 

“I’m the Mayor’s granddaughter.” 

“Exactly.”  Same smile, less so.  “If you insist, I will put in a request.  Expect it to take months.  You know why.” 

“No,” Shallot told her, feeling argumentative.  “I don’t.  Almost all my friends were placed after they reached sixteen.  Why not me?”

Sigh.  Mrs. Hatherall had done this ten years, once the regulations were proclaimed.  At that time, older workers could not retire before 75.  Their replacements came from the high school grades, starting at senior.  Most students accepted being forced to work—they had no choice—starting at bottom rung positions until they proved their skills and worked their way up.  If not, they were transferred to another work area. 

“Dome repair, then?” Shallot asked, tentatively now.  Pressuring Mrs. Hatherall was pointless.  She could only offer nothing.

“I am afraid you would not meet the physical requirements.  Also, there are a limited number of suits, none would fit you.  Same with underground work of any kind, actually.  Plus the security clearance.” 

Shallot shifted uncomfortably, sitting less upright.  She looked at the small fan on the desk, robotically moving back and forth, pushing air.  “Marsball?”

Mrs. Hatherall’s lips compressed into a tight pink line.  “Shallot, you’re not listening.  No one will take you.  You are the granddaughter of the Mayor.  That was bad enough.  Now we’re in an election.  No one wants to show favouritism.  After the election, perhaps, but you cannot escape your baggage.  It’s your birthright.

“If she wins, the situation is partisan, no one will risk hiring you because then they’ll be criticized for pandering to her.  If she loses, no one will hire you because it gives them no advantage and many disadvantages. For the same reason there is no volunteer work either.  I’ve already asked.  I have.  I want to see you gainfully employed, dear.

“Wait this out, then I will help you make the best of it.  I’m afraid you will not like what will be available.  Too many people are unhappy with the Mayor.  The best I’ve found, for after the election, is garbage collection.”

“My future is picking up shit?” Shallot was now angry.

“Language, please.”  Mrs. Hatherall stiffened.

Shallot stood, said “Thanks, I know you can’t do anything,” and walked out.  She did not want to scream at Mrs. Hatherall.  The woman did not deserve it.   She was only doing her job.  Although Shallot wondered whether Mrs. Hatherall had her own personal grudge with her great grandmother, and that was part of the problem.

Underground, Peter’s morning had been long and tiring.  He wanted to scream.  He’d inspected piping all morning.  Last night, he and Wendy were invited to play the new game in Mars and Me.  It hit too close to home—it was home.  He looked at the water tubes.  The game was accurate in depicting them as far overdue for replacement, any of them ready to fail at any time.  The water fed a thirsty colony and supplied steam for engines to supplement power from the huge solar dishes surrounding the city. 

He could not shrug off the feeling disaster was imminent.  The pipes.  And now the water itself.

All along, he felt something was wrong about the water.  There was the secrecy, suspicious off the top.  It made sense in the game that the ‘bugs’ were microscopic Martian organisms in the water everyone drank and used.  Organisms he and Wendy had absorbed since infancy.  He had performed water work responsibly the last ten years.  Met Wendy, working the same shift, after his fourth year. 

Water was critical so he asked to work there.  It provided more than water.  It provided hope.  Now the precious water was poison.  A living poison.  Martian germs?  A virus from ancient times?  Anyone’s guess was good. 

He saw a large section of pipe feeding the colony, likely to fail in less than a month.  He made a note on his tablet. 

Wendy walked up.  “That section’s going to fail.”  She looked at him when he said nothing.  “Thinking about the game?”  He nodded.  “Thinking about how we help keep everyone poisoned?” 

He sighed.  The air made a small cloud on the glass of his face plate.  “Yeah.  It’s a career.” 

They both laughed, a little, and sat together on a large rock.  The lava tube was well lit.  They looked at the glistening flat frozen river, the heating lines buried in holes cut in the ice, the water extraction tubes.  The steady flow of excess steam from the power plant returning from above coated the walls with frozen sparkles.  The walls winked like stars in a tiny underground universe.  Except they were not stars, they were exhaust glop. 

“Think there’s those microbes in the steam?” Wendy asked, following his eyes to the walls.  “In the air?”  She paused.  “I’ve been reading about unions.  We need a voice.  Water workers should be united, tell the colony what’s up.  We’ve been way too quiet.  We’re complicit if we do nothing.”

“Well, team meeting’s half an hour.  That’s what we all want to talk about.”  

At which point they heard the explosion. 

Thirty feet away, across the lava tube cavern, a large water pipe had burst through an aged patch, water forcefully shooting up and out.  The whole cavern shook. 

Peter and Wendy immediately pressed the emergency buttons on their suits, then ran to the emergency storage.  Loud alarms blared.  Emergency lights flashed red.  Other workers began to rush.  Peter and Wendy carried the emergency bags and cases as quickly as they could, but now had to step carefully.  The floor was dangerous.  It was -120.  The warm water shooting out of the hole froze as soon as it hit the ground, sheets of water turning into sheets of ice, over ice. 

Everyone had to work quickly.  The warm water erupting from the pipe created even more pressure on the already weak metal.  Wendy and Peter reached the pipe first.  They saw the leak was a foot long, an oval growing larger every second as the water pushed through, sucked along through the pipe by powerful devices. 

They turned on the heaters on the outside of their suits, to avoid freezing solid.  The pump was killed, the water finally began to stop shooting water out.  The emergency patches they had were not big enough.  Peter grabbed the two largest patches, Wendy the welding torch.  Water sprayed on the torch, froze on the metal.  It was not heated.  She grabbed another torch, lit it, avoiding the water. 

While Peter held the patches in place, she began to weld them together.  Behind them they heard doors opening, staff shouting, anxious movement.  Wendy finished welding, Peter put sealant over the weld.  Footsteps running behind them.  Two workers in suits helped them put the welded patches over the gushing water.  Another joined them.  It took all five to force the patch over the gaping hole.  As they held it, Wendy began to weld the new patch onto the old pipe after torching away the ice.

The welding was going well when they heard a second explosion. 

Across the cavern another water pipe burst. 

As Peter and Wendy concentrated on the first break, workers rushed to the second.  There was another explosion as the second pipe burst even more, creating a much larger hole than the one Peter and Wendy were struggling to repair. 

Peter stepped away from the repair work and tapped the emergency button on his wrist.  “Send as much steam down here as you can.” 

“You know that means powering down the system,” his supervisor said. 

“Two pipes have burst and there’s ice everywhere,” Wendy added.  “We can’t work or repair the pipes in this.” 

“Gotcha.  We’ll cut the pumps.  Help is on the way.” 

Peter rushed as best he could in the slippery ice and gushing water to the second pipe.  The steady hum of all the pumps stopped.  Soon less water gushed from the second pipe, then a trickle.  They looked at the gaping hole.  Too large to fill with several welded patches.  Worse, sections near the hole were stressed and would blow if the pumps were turned back on. 

Repairing this would take a day at best, probably.

More workers appeared—all underground suits were now in use—to help with the repairs check the other pipes, urgently searching for what had been missed.  Underground was a disaster area.  Above ground, all but emergency power was shut off.  Water no longer flowed.  The colony went into partial shutdown as sirens sounded. 

At the top of the dome, Dan and Warren heard.  They had just found a new crack, eating its way in.  They sent in their own alarm. 

It was a very bad start to everyone’s day. 

No power, no water.  Worse, when gamers opened Mars and Me, pipes in the game had also burst—but in the game, yesterday. 

When Shallot returned home, to her bedroom, late that morning, she powered up her notebook on its battery, entered the game and immediately saw the change.  Mom texted that work in Admin was suspended, without power, and she would be home early.  Shallot was puzzled that the pipes bursting happened in the game yesterday.  The NPGs were developing their own plans now, independent of the colonists.  The relationship between game and colony was growing increasingly bizarre. 

Shallot found the mirror NPG Shallot, who also sat on her bed, notebook on her lap. 

Are you me?  It’s me, Shallot typed.

NPG Shallot looked up.  Haven’t brushed my hair today, she said.  Too much to do.

What’s next?

How about a long talk?  Everything’s a mess.  Nan’s very upset about the game and the election.  My friends are bonkers.  Mom and dad are zero help

With NPG Shallot, she felt she had found a new best bestie.  She no longer felt she was alone.  Of course, she thought, I’m still sitting here alone, playing a game.

Meanwhile, the rest of the colony was frightened.  There was a new emergency, the worst ever.  They did not yet know about the dome.

8

The Disaster Election

That morning was also the official start of the election. As with any election, voters were focussed on the issues.  To them it was the cost of anything, the instability of basic water and electricity, and the increasing concern about the viability of life on Mars.  It was an election not focussed on improving life as it was on preventing disaster. 

Preventing disaster would improve their lives, of course.

Water was down to zero, for everyone.  The steam plant was forced to shut down for lack of water, eliminating all power to the colony except emergency batteries.  Water and power were critical, especially in Mars’ hostile environment.  Heat had to be maintained.  The dome would only hold the current warmth for so long.  After seventy hours, the temperature in the colony would begin to drop if power was not restored.  Eventually, it would drop to -120.

And if the dome developed serious cracks, there was little power to get the workers up to seal new openings. 

The ten-member City Council met early, two hours after the water pipes burst.  Tension in the City Hall boardroom was thick, almost as thick as the impressive simulwood round table in the centre, surrounded by comfortable padded chairs.  The Mayor’s charge was largest.

They heard sirens.  Out the windows, flashing red lights.  Dim emergency lighting cast shadows over them all.

“Here we are again,” Madeline began, looking at the councillors and their assistants.  Assistants sat on behind their counsellors. 

“No,” Councillor Newman told her, tapping his fingers on the simulwood.  “We’ve never had a double failure.” Newman was heavy set, in his sixties, thick blonde hair thinning, aided by a toupee.  His sole exercise was golf—he enjoyed playing against himself, and altering his score on the 18th hole, so he always won.  He always dressed well, tailored suits, neat shirts, matching socks.  “This is unprecedented.  And will get worse.” 

Councillor Marjorie added, while knitting booties for a grandchild, “This is the sixth major break in two years.  The third time water and power have shut down.” She was the same age as Newman, aggressive in her own way, quieter and without hair extensions.  Knitting helped her think.  And she liked the image.  It helped her think during meetings.  “What happened to the improved maintenance?”

“You know as well as I do,” Madeline replied.  “Shall I restate the obvious?  No money.  No tourism from Earth.  No exports.  Our main funding dried up over a hundred years ago, when Tusk died and his company broke up.” 

“I thought funds were diverted from the emergency bank,” Newman said.  “That was the Council vote.”

“You all knew there was nothing in the emergency bank,” Madeline replied.  “We knew we were buying time.  We were all involved.”   

“No,” Councillor Newman insisted, leaning forward, “it was a delay.  Only a delay.  It obviously did not work out.  But this is stupid.  Let’s be honest.  The problems we face are not simply a lack of resources.  The problem is the direction the Council has taken—mismanaging what we do have–under your leadership.  You’ve led us to a dead end.”  He glared at Madeline.

“Councillor, let’s leave campaigning for a moment,” she shot back, not glaring.  “This is a business meeting about water and power.  We will be without water and power for at least two days.  The Water Department will deal with the current repairs but they tell me much more is on the horizon.  The basic problem is funding for overtime for workers.  Councillors, there is a major source of funds we have never tapped.  I suggest we consider it.” 

She looked at them.  They looked back.  Marjorie stopped knitting. 

Marsball?” Newman asked, stiffening.  “Take funds from Marsball?  You can’t be serious.”

“We’re talking maintaining water and power for the future,” Madeline told them.  “We have no choice.  Money from Marsball will pay for additional resources from Earth.”

“It’s the only part of living here people love,” Marjorie said, putting down her knitting.  “Marsball needs its budget.  They get it all from ticket sales, not from us.  They have plans for improving the arena.  You can’t tax Marsball.” 

“Better than bursting pipes.  Better than failing crops.  I’m talking a quarter of their budget.”  Gasps.  “I’m just asking, think about it.  I’m sure colonists will understand.” 

The meeting ended with no agreement, the Councillors and their aides leaving the room, trading looks and muttering.  As he was leaving, Newman actually spat on the table. 

Left alone, Madeline turned to Mike and Sally. 

“Tough sell,” Mike muttered. 

“Based on their response, it will tank whatever chance you have for re-election,” Sally told her.  “Colonists will end up with higher ticket prices.  That’s the way Marsball will cover it.  Indirect tax.  People will be outraged, just like the Councillors.” 

“I figured it would be a tough sell.”  Madeline calmly looked at them.  “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” 

“That’s just an old TV show,” Mike said, sitting stiffly.  “And Marsball fans are not a few.  They’re a big chunk of the colony.” 

“We have to figure out,” Sally said, “how to get people to work with this in a positive way.  Newman’s our biggest problem.  He wants to take over.  His TV show about how to manage the colony has gone to his head.  Viewers loved it when he fired Administrators.  It earned him a base.  He’ll win the election.  Marjorie, second.  You, third.” 

Madeline said, “The election no longer feels important.  I’m no longer sure we’ll have one.  Let’s concentrate instead on restoring the power and water.  As permanently as we can.  We need to focus on the big picture.  There are answers.”

Mike and Sally shifted in their chairs, uncomfortable.  Mike especially.  Sally thought Madeline was finally doing her thing. 

George was tired of having nothing to do.  The Clinic operated on emergency power.  There was no TV and staff told him there was limited water and power, possibly for days.  One time, thought of working underground.  It was important.  Water was considering him when he was declared infected.  Now, two days later, Water was gone forever.    

George was beyond restless staying in his room, being recorded, feeling the lumps move, jerking off.  Pointless.  And the weird lust was dying down.  Perhaps what was inside him was also fed up.  Who cared about pleasure anymore?  He had to find someone he could talk with.  Really talk.  To the people around him, the staff, he was a guinea pig. 

He got off the bed, went to the closed door, opened it and walked out, feeling, well, firm.  He had to do something.  Leaving his room was a start. 

The corridor was empty, the staff elsewhere, dealing with the power and water shortages.  Doors on both sides of the corridor were closed, as always.  He opened one.  No one.  He opened another.  An emaciated young man lay motionless on the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling.  He turned his head as George leaned in, too shrivelled for George to recognize, perhaps him to recognize George

George could think of nothing to say.  He tried to smile.  The young man blinked.  George closed the door.       

He found only empty rooms until the last door, when he opened a door and saw a young woman, his age, sitting on the bed, her notebook open to Mars and Me, running on batteries.  They looked at each other, surprised, he standing in the doorway, her on the bed.  Expecting to see someone new was not how they expected to start the day.    

The room was the same as his, windowless, clean.  Same furniture.  Her room was neater.  She was neater. 

“I didn’t know anyone was here,” George finally said, awkward. 

“Welcome to the club,” she replied, equally awkward.  “How long for you?”

“Two days.”

“Three.” 

“I saw you in middle school.”

“Yes, we weren’t in the same class.” 

They looked at each other.  Awkwardly.

“George,” he told her. 

“Katie,” she said back.  “Hey.” 

“Hey.  Can I come in?” 

She smiled.  He entered the room, sat on the bed—not too close.  “This okay?”  She nodded.  “You look, uh, healthy.” 

“Feel okay, except for the lumps.”

“You playing the game?” he asked.  “The new version?”

“Are we screwed!”  She shook her head.  “Martians inside us.  Dome’s going to fail but we’ll starve first.  Us, what do we have?  Days?”  She shook her head, running her fingers through her long red hair. 

He took her hand.  It felt warm.  “We should do something.  Find others here, like us.  If there are any.  We could organize.  Apply pressure.  Demand answers.  We deserve answers.” 

“But there are none.” 

“Do we know?”

Katie saw his determination.  She wanted that.  She was also fed up with sitting in her room.  Anyway, soon the battery on her notebook would die, and she could not power up until the Clinic’s full power was restored.  She shut off the notebook and they left her room. 

Both felt far better than they had minutes ago–energized. 

George and Katie went through the rest of the rooms in their wing.  They found no other patients.  The door to the adjoining wing was locked.  Through the window they saw corpses on tables, covered, arms and feet sticking out from under the sheets, withered, shrunken.  George and Katie looked at what could be them for a long time.  Neither spoke. 

They walked back down the corridor and ended in George’s room–his battery was fully charged.  He powered up his notebook and entered the game.  Their NPG doubles were in the Clinic, in George’s room, NPG George’s notebook on. 

How are you? George typed. 

Searching, his NPG replied.  Anything yet?

No, but just started.   

In the game, George searched the wing.  In the room with the withered young man, he found his NPG.  Also withered, but sitting up.  He looked at their avatars.   George.  Katie.

George asked, You know us?

Of course.  I was in middle school with both of you.  We all found new friends and lost touch.

Where is your player? 

He died an hour ago.  They took him away.  Now, I wait to die.  The NPG was resigned.  The game takes a little time.  Soon I will no longer exist. 

That’s horrid, Katie typed. 

It is life, natural, part of the game, the NGP replied.  You die, in your real life.  Except you do not know it is coming.  Each of us die when you die.  Accident or disease, we linger. 

And you accept that? George asked.  I wouldn’t.  Not if I could do something. 

Nothing can be done, the NPG replied.  Death is natural, everywhere.

And as George and Katie watched, the NPG shimmered, rippled, then was gone, gone forever. 

“We have to find a way to contact Shallot,” George said to Katie.  “Her great grandfather led the team which developed Mars and Me thirty years ago.  He could help with this.”

“Change the parameters,” Katie said.  “Why should an NPG die?  He was so aware.” 

“I’ll message her, through the game, should have done that already.  Then we’ll look up her NPG,” George said, starting to type. 

Katie looked at the screen.  “They have it worse than us.  Didn’t think that was possible.” 

9

Great Grandfathered

Outside it was the same as always–no weather, musty air, dim sunlight.  She once liked going outside.  Now it reminded her only of problems.  Shallot was in a residential area, far from downtown, in front of one of the smaller homes.  She walked up to it.  Two large rose bushes on either side of the front door—it always smelled sweet here.  She knocked, opened the unlocked door and stepped in. 

“Granddad?”

“Kitchen, onion.” 

She found him sitting at the small table, drinking tea made from bottled water.  A pot of tea and an empty cup sat near his hands.  She had not called or texted, but he expected her.  He was old, in his nineties, his silver-gray hair thin, straggly, his untrimmed gray beard a bit too long for anything fashionable. 

Granddad never thought of fashion. 

He did not walk around much the last few years, due to arthritis and less energy, so she visited him regularly.  More than her parents, she loved him.  He had always been warm, accessible, loving.  Also, he never told her what to do.  He left everything for her to figure out–with the occasional hint.  His daughter, Madeline, was the opposite—fashionable, committed to the Administration where she worked, seeming to know everything, the opposite of her daughter.  Both sought the best for the colony, from different directions. 

The kitchen walls were covered with photographs of the colony, from its earliest stages, including the original crater over which the dome was built.  Two framed photographs were of Madeline, as Mayor, one signed For Dad.   The walls of his home were covered with carefully selected history.  People standing under the completed dome, without pressure suits.  He would tell Shallot he chose each one because they reminded him of the early colony, his family, his dreams. 

“You expected me?”

He smiled.  “In the game, your NPG visited mine yesterday.” 

“You sleep?” she asked, pulling out a chair to sit next to him. 

“Too much.  I’m 98.  Sleeping is a waste.  Every day is a gift, eh onion?  I like being awake, even if it hurts.  Worst is feeling sluggish.  Short of breath.  They tell me it’s cysts on my liver.  Go figure.  I have more energy if I don’t have to move around much.”

“Granddad, I know I’m lucky.  Privileged.  Did nothing to earn it.  Born into it.  Mom, the Mayor.  You, the son of an original colonist and architect of our overall computer system and electronics network.” 

“That’s me, onion.  Have some tea.”  She smiled.  “Guess you’re here to talk?  What’s up?” 

“A lot.  First, can you do me a favour?” 

He smiled.  “A change in the game?” 

She straightened.  “How did you know?”

“I’ve seen the changes to the game.  They came from your note book.  You’ve caused quite a stir, onion.” 

“Oh.  Sorry, I should have told you.”

He smiled, looking at her.  “No problem.  And?”

“Well, I got a text from my friend George.  He went into the Clinic a couple of days ago.  You know, the Clinic.  So you know why.”  He nodded.  “Today he texted me.  He talked in the game with an NPG whose player had died.  The NPG just sat waiting and George watched it—him–die.  He knew when his player died, so would he.  It was…painful.  For both of them.  Do they have to die, Grandad?  You led the team that created Mars and Me.  Can you change it so if a player dies, her NPG doesn’t die with her?  Right now, it’s, well, immoral.  Inhumane.  Didn’t you think about that?”

He shook his head.  “Not even remotely.  They were only AI.” 

“Not any more.  Can you change the game?

He looked at the rose sitting in a ceramic vase on the table.  Ever since she could remember, Grandad had a rose in his kitchen.  She barely remembered his wife, her great grandmother, who had died years earlier.  He looked at Shallot, smiling–relieved.  “I haven’t talked about the game with you until now.  Wanted you to discover it on your own.  I knew you would.

“Here’s the exposition.

“To begin, why was the game created?  Thirty years ago, Council was desperate.  Our water filtration systems had failed completely.  Took six months before the water was even basically filtered.  Filtration is still not what it should be.  And the dome was scarring.  And support and resources from Earth had long ago dried up. 

“Council thought we needed a diversion.  A cheap diversion requiring no serious use of our limited resources.  They told me colonists needed an outlet.  What they meant was, a distraction.  A distraction from being born on an abandoned failing colony millions of miles from Earth.  I suggested a computer game. 

“I remember when I was your age, how positive my father was.  We would create a new world, export valuable minerals, make discoveries.  We would see the universe and our role in it. 

“In his last years, he was…less positive.  By then, dad knew.  Knew the problems we were creating for ourselves with poor maintenance and decreasing support from Earth.  He and the others wanted the best maintenance of the dome and water, but the resources were already not there.  He saw the slippery slope and knew we were sliding down it.

“I think I understood the problems and how colonists saw them.

“So I pulled together a team and we developed an unusually comprehensive, free game about living in the colony.  We built in infinite possibilities.  I made certain we added a page where a player could create their own game within the game, adding facts and information.  I thought sooner or later a gamer would use that page not just to fiddle around, but to force true reality into the game.   The game was deliberately bland.  Council would never accept anything controversial.  I decided I could wait to change the game.  It took the right time, the right person. 

“And you, onion, turned out to be the right player.  Congratulations.  This is your fate.”

“Fate?  Me?”

“Yes you.  You’ve noticed the change in the NPGs already.”

She leaned forward, towards him, holding her unsipped cup of tea.  “They’re different.  They think for themselves.  They have feelings.”

“Built into the game, when the right conditions arose.  Change was needed.  With independent NPGs, the game could help colonists to, well, save themselves.  Now the NPGs are motivated.  You started this.  You have to keep it up.”    

“Granddad…I’m swamped,” Shallot said, eyes wide.  “I mean, whoa.  Info dump.  I need time to think.”       

“Sorry.  I tried to prepare you, over the years, without telling you what to do.  Prepare you and several others who were promising.  But it was you.  Very good.  Because we’re running out of time.”

“Running out?”

“Less than fifty years before the dome collapses.  It will take too long, with the resources available, to build an underground city. The crops will fail in a few years.”  He looked at her a long time.  She looked back.  “Let’s go for a walk,” he said to her, pushing himself up from his chair.  “Get out of the kitchen and into the world.” 

He took her outside, onto the street, walking with a limp, occasionally wincing.  Pointed up to the dome, to around them.  “The only extraplanetary city.  Created in a totally hostile environment.  People were born here, grew up here, died here.  Under the dome.  Breathing increasingly bad air, drinking increasingly bad water.  We live in a unique achievement, its purpose never truly considered.   Turns out, our purpose is to exist.” 

“Yeah, all my friends think that.”

He walked with her through the neighbourhood, talking about the people who lived in the houses, had lived in the houses, his father, Madeline, his sole child.  His late wife.  He described his father as a dreamer awakened by reality, his mother pragmatic, as was their child.  It was gratifying when Madeline was elected Mayor.  She had done, he said, the best anyone could.    

They continued walking.  He limped more. 

“I love my mom.”

“Love my grand daughter too.”  He pointed.  “That’s where I used to live, with Mary, where Madeline was born.  Couldn’t stay there after Mary died.  I’m more comfortable now.  Smaller place, less memories.  Except roses.  Mary loved roses.” 

They hugged and walked until it hurt too much him too much.  “I’ll make the NPG changes.  Good idea.  Should have thought of it.  So many choices.  We can always make the wrong ones, often do, often for the best of reasons.” 

They sat in a small park, he slumped onto the bench.  No children were in the playground.  It was quiet.  Above them, teams of workers patched the dome.

“You talk with Nan about this?” she asked.

“Not yet.  We do talk regularly.” 

“She knows.  I told her.” 

“And?”

“Well, you know, she takes time to process stuff.  And there’s the election.” 

Her great grandfather shrugged.  “Given the current emergency, they’d be smart to put the election off.” 

“I think it’s already off.  All of it.”  She looked at him.  “I love you, Grandad.  You should have told me earlier.” 

“You did not seem ready.”  He smiled.  “I misjudged you. 

“You’re stronger than I realized.

“I’m proud of you.  You have less of your mom and dad in you, more of me and your grandmother.  You’ve made the right choices.”    

10

The Campaign Starts and Stops

Three election rallies had been scheduled in front of City Hall that evening—one for Madeline, Newman and Marjorie.  Usually rallies were planned.  Everyone knew what to expect.  Because of shortages—and apparent lack of voter interest–the three rallies were forced to roll into one.  Instead of evening, the power shortage forced the rally to begin in mid afternoon.  Voters were allowed time off work to attend. 

It was a dreary day under the dome.  Another dreary day.

 All three candidates—Madeline, Newman, Marjorie (not Mickey Mouse, although a man in a Mickey costume was in the crowd, signing autographs)–stood on City Hall’s front steps, behind podiums, colony flags on either side of them hanging limp. 

The crowd was modest.  Emergency sirens had stopped late yesterday but no one knew when power or water would be restored.  Standing in the open square, waiting, the colonists were restless, talking quietly with each other, arguing, debating about the system failures.  About who was responsible.  About how Council had failed them. 

Some sipped bottled water as they stood waiting.  Some held signs, most for Newman, significantly less for Marjorie, three for Madeline.  One colonist towards the front shouted “When’s this thing going to finally start?”

Madeline, standing between Newman and Marjorie, tapped her mike, creating a loud sound.  Everyone looked at her. 

“Before we begin, an update on our power and water.  Repair crews are working overtime in the current emergency.  A few minutes ago we were told water and power will be probably restored overnight, almost certainly by tomorrow morning.  Definitely some time tomorrow.  I’m sorry, nothing is definite.” 

Unsatisfied murmurs.  Inside, Madeline sighed and wished she had brought her cane.  Her left leg ached.

She cleared her throat, feeling under siege.  “In this joint, shortened rally, each candidate will make a brief speech.  We drew straws for who speaks first.”  The crowd’s eyes on her were unforgiving.  Normally she would be energized, addressing a crowd during an election.  Now she fought to appear confident instead of deflated.  “Councilperson Newman?”

Newman straightened at being announced.  He moved forward, ignoring his podium, getting closer to the crowd.  His smile was grim.  He glanced at Madeline.  “Thank you, Mayor.  I’m sure we all look forward to your solutions to these emergencies which keep occurring during your administration.” 

Newman had a deep, commanding voice.  He used it well.  He stood straight and tall, making eye contact with people in the crowd.  “Fellow citizens.  You know me.  Newman.  I’m not sure I even have a first name.”  Mild laughter.  “Because I’ve always been seen as a new man.  I’ve been on Council three terms.  You know the problems we face.  You’re frustrated.  So am I.  I have tried to make Mars great again, but it has been so uphill.  However, fellow citizens, there is a way out.  And I have solutions.  For our future.”

He had their attention.   

“The Mayor says the purse is bare.  She’ll tell you she wants to tax Marsball.  Yes, they have a profit.  They planned to use it to improve the arena.  We all know what will happen with a tax on Marsball.  Your ticket prices will go up.  Way up.  Probably it will cost double to see a Marsball game.  How does making your favourite entertainment unaffordable make your life better? 

“Instead, purse strings in the government itself can be tightened.  The City Hall swamp can be drained.  It is vital that maintenance on our facilities be improved.  And the strange plague affecting some of us needs far more research.  In addition to cutting fat, I will demand a one-time improvement of resources from Earth.  Given our situation, I am certain they will respond.  Together, we will make all Mars great again.  You will make Mars again, by electing me.  I hope I will remain humble.”

Laughter. 

“It will not be easy.  Perhaps life here is in the long run impossible.  I listen to the colonists I represent.  We must consider realistic options.  The best is an escape ship, built here, which we can use to return to Earth.  Such ships can be built with our existing resources, supplemented with emergency funding from Earth.  Earth owes us.”  Applause.  “But building escape ships to Earth will take years.  We probably will not build them in time.  Our crops will fail long before then.

“My solution for our immediate future?  I urge us all to consider building a city underground.  Temporary.  We would be close to the water and protected from the radiation and dust storms.  The lava tubes can easily be heated.  From an underground base, we can restore the colony’s surface and dome.  Eventually we will return living above ground. 

“Under my plan, we have realistic options.  We have safety.  I’d say more but our time together today is limited.  Thank you.”  He looked almost angry, holding his hands out wide.  Then he smiled.    

Generous round of applause. 

Madeline took a breath.  She knew how popular Newman had become.  His first two terms, he was considered a bully.  But in the last few months, his popularity skyrocketed. 

“Thank you, Councillor Newman,” Madeline told him.  “And now, everyone, your second candidate,” Madeline said. “Councillor Allgone?” 

Marjorie smiled at the crowd, nervous.  She did not enjoy public speaking, only the community work and working behind the scenes at Council.  “Good afternoon and thank you, Mayor, Councillor Newman, and thank you especially to the colonists who came here today.  I also have served three terms on Council. 

“Honestly, the colony has been relatively well run.  The difficulty is we are starved for resources and have been unable to maintain our infrastructure.  Life on Mars always was difficult and now grows worse.  In a generation or two, we will no longer be able to live under this dome.  It will fail.  But living underground sounds like a bad idea to me.  A waste of what we have and could do.”

Murmurs, but mostly silence.    

“Colonists, we have two choices.  One is we live in a cave.  The other is we return to Earth.  If we concentrate our resources, we have enough time to build enough ships to leave Mars behind.  Earth has its own problems.  In some ways, identical to ours.  But at least we could live on the surface.  At least we could breathe the air.  And their water filters work.  We only have to land in a country ahead in the Water Wars. 

“Go home.  That is my campaign slogan,” Marjorie told the crowd.  “Thank you.” 

The applause was mild, scattered.  Colonists looked at each other.  Abandon the colony?  Few believed enough ships could be built in time.  More important, despite the hardships, few wanted to think seriously about leaving Mars altogether.  The colony had always been dedicated to survival.  Retreat was a lousy option.

Madeline cleared her throat.  “Thank you, Councillor.  Now I will make my own statement to conclude this short rally.  Thank you, fellow colonists.  I appreciate this opportunity to speak directly to you.”  She looked at the crowd.  They looked back.  “Cut administration?  We cut that over the last ten years, starting before I was elected Mayor.  There are no funds to be trimmed.  But Marsball.  I propose to amortize twenty-five percent of Marsball’s budget.  It will, yes, certainly increase ticket prices.  Council has no power over Marsball ticket prices, there is no way we can force them to stay at the same level. 

“But it is better than an overall tax and will not affect the games, including the current championship series.” 

Boos. 

Madeline shifted, keeping her weight off her aching leg.  “It is one realistic solution, unlike what Councillor Newman offers.  We cannot rely on Earth for help, including resources to build escape ships.” 

“Hey!” one young woman near Shallot called out loudly.  “Are there Martians in our water?  How long have you known?”

“How long have you lied to us?” another demanded. 

Boos.

Madeline looked at the two other Councillors.  Newman stepped forward.  “We’ve all known on Council, for about twenty years, that something Martian was in our water.  I wish there was an answer but under our current leadership, we have no answers.” 

Madeline and Marjorie nodded.  

“Then what good are you?” a young woman demanded.

The crowd grew more restless.  Shallot’s heart ached for her grandmother. 

“When will the dome fall apart?” a young man in the crowd cried out.  “I don’t hear much faith in it.  When will we be forced underground?”

“How can we keep the water flowing when we don’t have the parts?  Isn’t that why it’s getting worse?  Aren’t we screwed?”  a third young person shouted.  “We need answers!”

“Isn’t pollution from the Smelter poisoning our crops?” a fourth shouted out.  “Isn’t our food running out?  We can’t live eating that artificial crap.”

“Isn’t it a daydream we can build rockets to take us all to Earth?” a fifth asked. 

“Is Earth any better?” asked a sixth.  “It hasn’t fixed its problems.”

Peter and Wendy stood next to each other.  Together, they called out: “We work in water maintenance.  Everybody, today we formed an organization to protect our water.  An organization of water workers.  It’s an emergency.  We know the water best.” 

A man a few feet away spoke up.  “I work in the Smelter.  Pollution controls will cost our jobs.  And the colony needs our production.  We feel threatened.  Everyone hates us but needs us.  So today we also formed an organization of Smelter workers to protect our interests.  Which are the colony’s interests!”

Workers had been inspired by Mars and Me, where such groups had formed the day before. 

By now the crowd ignored the politicians, talking with each other.  The candidates stepped back, startled.  They had expected, at worst, unpleasant questions.  Ignoring the politicians was new. 

Only Newman smiled. 

Shallot stood with her friends in the middle of the crowd, watching.  Her besties were near but her eyes were on her grandmother backing away, surprised, upset—hurt.  Shallot wished she could do something.  But the crowd would hear only the Mayor’s granddaughter.    

The rally soon broke up, the crowd drifting away, talking eagerly in small groups, the candidates fleeing into City Hall. 

Shallot stood alone as people around her left and her friends returned to their workplaces.    Everything she knew had changed.  Transitioning.  All of her life, everything she knew, was in flux.      

Her world was beyond unsettled. 

11

Unsettled!

Madeline, for the first time in years, felt unsettled.  She had not felt this way since High School.  High School had always been the worst.  Challenges were fine.  They built strength.  She had dealt with challenges forever.  Although forever was now beginning to feel like a very long time.  She was growing weary of challenges.  Beyond any colonist’s or politician’s experience.  Challenges which turned expectations upside down, backwards, twisted. 

Indeed, inside, Madeline felt twisted into small, anxious pieces.

She glanced at Sally and Mike, walking with her into the Council boardroom.  They looked at her, shrugged.  Everyone was anxious.  What would come next?  Almost anything.  “He’s going to make his power play,” Madeline told them.  “At the next Council meeting.  Yesterday and today, it’s so obvious.”

The other Councillors were already in the boardroom. “This is insane,” Newman said, standing when everyone was seated.  “No one cared about the election.  All my preparation, for nothing. Will we even have one?  They already have held theirs just now!” 

“The rally was…unfortunate.  Everyone cannot have power,” Marjorie added.  “Society does not work that way.  If colonists do not want their current leaders, they should simply vote them out.  Vote us out.  Maybe they do not want to be led.”

“They’re not ungovernable,” Newman snapped.  “You saw the reaction to me, compared with you and the Mayor.  They responded to me.  To change.  Then I stopped speaking and it all fell apart.”  He glared at Madeline.  “What the hell happened?”

“It’s the game,” Mike told them, standing behind Madeline.  “Mars and Me.  It’s been changed, by some of the players.  To reflect our problems realistically.  Very realistically.  Most colonists know about it by now.” 

Mars and Me?  It’s only a stupid diversion,” Newman said to him, abruptly wary at mention of the game. 

“No more,” Mike told them.  “Confidential information about the water and dome is now in the game.  People know what we do about the microbes.  The game now is full of new information about the water piping, pollution, even crop failures.”

“People are upset because they know what we know,” Madeline added, “and that we kept it from them.” 

“It’s our job to know, not theirs.  They’re not supposed to know,” Newman snapped.  “Not yet.  Eventually, full disclosure.  When we know more, they can know more.”  

“Councillors, there’s more about the game,” Madeline told them.  “The game now has a history of six months of everyone knowing about all this.  The game’s AI characters now have a complete history of severe problems.  But they could not do anything until the colonists themselves stared to act.  It made them kind of…neurotic.  And, strangely, very human.

“They mirror us.  When colonists started playing the new version of the game, the AI characters reflecting them began to act.  Faster than us.  Essentially, predicting what we would do.  They’ve formed unions.  Started to bypass Council altogether.  In fact, in the game, half an hour ago, I’m told the election has been suspended.”

Newman glared at her.  “That isn’t possible.”   

 “My grandchildren tell me it is,” Marjorie cut in.  “So what are we going to do?  We cannot allow mob rule. I say we start building exit ships now.  It would unite the colonists, a realistic escape they can believe in.” 

It was quiet for a while, the Councillors staring at each other, looking over their shoulders at their aides.  No one had taken notes.  No one knew what to say.  Politicians depend on elections, after all.  Most in the room sat quietly, stunned.

“Elections are one thing,” Newman finally muttered, “revolution another.  What the hell.  That game.  Can it be changed?  Get the colonists back to normal?”

“Only if we changed it yesterday,” Madeline replied.  “My father led the team which created the game.  I’m going to see him after this meeting.  Perhaps he has some answers.  Or solutions.  Right now, I have no answers, nothing to say to the colonists.  Do any of you?” 

The atmosphere rapidly grew increasingly tense.    Newman stood and began pacing.  “I went into politics to serve, not to be served.” 

Marjorie brought out her knitting, listening.  Most of the other Councillors stared at him, giving him their attention.    

“We simply cannot hand over control of the colony to the colonists,” Newman told the group, restless.  “Their world view is microscopic.  Only we have the larger view, the big picture.” 

“Yes we have to do something, Newman,” Marjorie said, knitting baby socks.  “But how?  They do the work.  They can go on strike, refuse to work.” 

“Make organizing illegal,” Newman snapped.  “Impose martial law.” 

“Good luck with that,” Madeline told the room. 

“Unenforceable,” Marjorie added.  “Also, the wrong direction to go.” 

He glared at her, then softened.  “You’re right.  I’m sorry.  Martial law would be stupid.”  He sniffled, then blew his nose on a tissue his aide, Jim, handed him.

“I don’t know,” one of the Councillors said quietly.  A couple of others nodded.  All of their eyes on Newman. 

Marjorie leaned back, putting her knitting down.  “You have them hypnotized or what?”

“And how could I do that?  Don’t insult us.”  Newman returned to glaring.  “What are you knitting?  Gloves because you’re hands off?” 

“Booties so we can keep moving.” 

“Councillors, Councillors,” Madeline said, her voice steady.  “We already had a lot on our plate.  We need to work together on this, yes?  Not argue.”

Newman reluctantly took his seat, only because he was unsure what to do next.  Marjorie put her knitting down. 

“Perhaps we should postpone the election,” Madeline told them.  “Right now, it’s unclear whether many colonists would even vote.  They’re taking direct action.  We should coordinate rather than order.”  

“Easy for you to say,” Newman growled.  “You’re on the way out.  I would have won the election.  I would have had the power.  As Mayor I’d make Mars great again.” 

Uneasy silence but most Councillors nodded. 

“Okay, we clearly need time,” Madeline suggested.  I suggest re-meeting tomorrow morning and see where we’re at then.  I’m sure we all want to reach out to our constituents.  See first hand what the colonists think.  Then we can build a consensus about where to go next.”

“We already saw,” Newman grunted and stalked out, followed by his aide.  “This is it,” Newman said over his shoulder, “You know what’s next.” 

Jim nodded.  “Yes, sir,” his aide said quietly, looking around, uneasy Newman did not care who heard.  The other Councillors followed behind them, some glancing at Newman and whispering to their aides. 

Madeline looked at Mike and Sally.  “You okay?” she asked.  They nodded.  “I have to talk with my father.  Take a break.” 

“We don’t have time for a break,” Sally said. 

“I’m going to my office,” Mike said.  “To check the game.  I haven’t been in it for a week.” 

“You play?” Sally asked.  He nodded.  “Embarrassed?”

“Of course not.  It isn’t just for kids.”  He smiled briefly, stiffly, and walked out. 

Madeline sighed.  “You know what’s up with him?  He’s been acting strange for a while.”  Sally shook her head.  “Well then.  Stay available.  I’ll be in touch.  Don’t worry so much.  Maybe the colonists becoming active is positive, eh?”  Madeline took her hand, held it a moment, then left.

Sally stood alone in the large boardroom.  She looked at her tablet to see what was next.  Her schedule was all about dealing with questions and feedback from the rally and arranging campaign speeches.  All now scrubbed.  Her inbox was empty.  She understood that feedback.  She went to her office and sat and thought.  She so wanted to help Madeline.  She believed in Madeline, had faith in her.  She loved the six years she’d worked for her.  Mike was the sole bad part, an overgrown boy toy.

Madeline left City Hall, driving her cart to her father’s home.  Walking hurt too much.  Her cane was on the seat behind her.  Dad could see her using it, otherwise only Sally and Mike.  Optics.  She appeared weak enough already.

People saw her drive past.  No waves.  Two hellos.  Madeline felt irrelevant.  She hated being ignored but, inside, she felt relief.  If she was ignored, she was no longer a moving target.

Her father was at home, sitting at his kitchen table, apparently waiting for her.  He always seemed to know.  Dad.  There was a pot of tea on the table and an empty cup for her.  He sipped from his cup.  “Good afternoon, kiddo.  Take a load off.  I imagine it’s quite a load you’re carrying.” 

Madeline, standing, poured a cup of tea for herself, sipped.  “Love you too, dad.”

“I’m proud of you.  Given the circumstances, you’re the best Mayor we’ve had.”  He smiled.  “You’ve been wrong lately, of course.”  She smiled—Dad.  “But mostly for all the right reasons,” he told her.  “I’ve also been wrong.  Should have acted long ago.  We both waited, for what we told ourselves was the best of reasons.  Waited too long.”

“Yeah.”  Madeline sipped and sat.  “Council has broken down.  The rally was a disaster.  Democracy has fallen apart.”

“Has it?”

“No, only as we’ve known it.  The colony is coming together.  I like that part.  Dad, that isn’t why I’m here, or just part of it.  The game.  What’s happened isn’t a surprise, is it?”  He nodded, she sipped, looking at him.  “You never told me.  Why?”

He smiled a little.  “When the game came online, you were in your early thirties.  Games were definitely not your thing.  I wanted to encourage you.” 

“By lying?   It would have been nice to know beforehand the game could be altered that way.”

“Then it would be shut down.  Few were ready for serious change.  To directly face our challenges.  The time had to be right.  Which meant, crises.”

“Uh huh.” 

“And here we are.” 

“Uh huh.  Your rationalization mechanism is in overdrive, Dad.  You set it up but would not go whole hog.  Well, you’ve put us in with the pigs now.  There probably won’t be an election. Most of Council is in revolt and confused about what to do.  Newman is making his play, to take charge.  The Colony cannot be allowed to fall apart.  So.  Does your game have any suggestions?  Do you?”

“Power should be spread and accountable.  The time has come for us to be straight with each other.” 

“Like not hiding information?”

“You’re angry.  Fair enough.  I understand.  You should be.  I’ll think about what you said.  Let’s move on.  It’s making me uncomfortable, kiddo.” 

“Yeah, given you planted something, let colonists treat it like a game, until someone came along and altered it.  Like Shallot.  Sorry you’re uncomfortable but we both know it’s because you deserve it.” 

He coughed.

“Talk to me.”  She sat facing him, poured more tea, for herself and for him, eyes on him.

So he told her.  How the game was designed to be, on the surface, a playable, positive version of the colony, a way to try to solve the colony’s fundamental problems.  Underneath were trigger situations for the NPGs.  Shallot’s changes powered them.  Now the game was no longer gentle, positive.  The game allowed, now, the NPGs to act in advance of the colonists.

He told her his team’s expectation was that the NPGs would create the best solutions possible, and the colonists would follow.  When the game was introduced, the colonists were not ready for change though they were on track.  Now they had arrived at the station.  He never thought it would take thirty years, but until recently most colonists were satisfied.   

“I went into the game once, years ago,” Madeline finally told him, “out of curiosity.  I never played.  Never spoke with the NPG Mayor but I checked her out.  She was me.” 

“Very much like you,” he told her. 

“So what now?”

He sipped more tea.  “I suggest you go with the flow.  Talk to the NPG Mayor.  Share ideas.  And,” he added, looking at her, “keep an eye on Newman.  I’ve detected a disturbance in the game about him.  We can’t pin it down yet.  Mind, there isn’t much left of my team.  I need to bring in some fresh blood.”

Madeline stood.  “I’m not you.  I can’t wait and hope.  Go with the flow.  Dad, I have to do something and I have no idea what.  The colony is evolving.  If it works, great.  What if any new democracy is a disaster?  Where does that leave Shallot and her generation?”

“Smell the rose, on the table.  That’s what it’s for.  Shallot smells it every time she’s here.  You never take a moment, give yourself a break.  You’ve been punishing yourself for years.” 

“Dad.  I have responsibilities.” 

“To them, also to yourself.  Where will her generation end up?  Right now, best bet is living in a cave underground.  You can help prevent that.”

“Jeez, dad, pile it on.  I’m so glad I dropped by for your help.  Meanwhile, Shallot can’t find a job.  Because she’s my granddaughter.” 

Shallot was thinking of her grandmother and great grandfather when her phone rang.  She looked at the I.D, expecting it to be Nan.  Or a bestie. 

“Good morning.  Shallot, your name has been passed on to me for employment at Marsball.  I’m Sam Mastan, CEO.  Can you come over for a talk?  Now?”

After blanking out for a moment, she found herself.  “Yes.  Of course.  On the way, Mr. Mastan.” 

She stood on the street, cell phone in hand.   She had been on her way home.  She turned and rushed towards the Marsball complex at the Arena, half a kilometre away.  A job!  Out of nowhere!  Maybe the guidance counsellor had finally helped her!  Or perhaps this was totally suspicious.  She was told no one would hire her.  Yet, her counsellor had mentioned Marsball.

The Marsball administration building, attached to the Arena, was large.  Marsball was the biggest entertainment enterprise in the colony.  Checking in at the front desk, she was told to go straight to Mr. Mastan’s office, second floor and down the hall.  The door was open.  She stepped gingerly into his office, trying to exude confidence–and give him no hint of being wary. 

Mr. Mastan sat behind his desk, a short bald man whose only visible hair was a mustache.  A thin black mustache.  “Great.  Come in.  Please.  Pleasure to meet you, Shallot.  Sit right there.”  He pointed to the available chair in front of his desk, his smile as thin as his mustache.  “So.  Tell me about yourself.” 

Her walls went up immediately. 

She smiled expectantly, seeing him as clearly as she could see a giant open crack in the dome.  She energetically (but carefully) told him about herself—her school background, her computer and social skills.  She could type.  She could file.  She could work phones.  She finished and waited for the shoe to drop, expecting a thud.    

“Very good, Shallot.  We could use a high performer.  Much to do.  We’re in the semi-finals.  We need your help.” 

“That’s wonderful, Mr. Mastan.  I’d love to work here.  What would I do?”

“Why did I call you in today?  It should be no secret.  Something has changed.  The Mayor has a key plank of her campaign to take away a big chunk of our profits.  We might have to lay staff off.  Cancel the finals.  If that happens, we would be unable to afford any new hires, including you.  Understood?” 

“Understood.”

“So you will be in an important, no, vital role.  We need to understand her plans for us, especially if she is re-elected.  You know what I want or do I have to spell it out?”

“You don’t have to spell it out.  You want me to convince my grand mother to back off Marsball.  Or, at least, spy on her.  Then rat her out.” 

He leaned back and sighed.  “You have a poor attitude.” 

She stood.  “I understand why you asked, but you never should have.”  And walked out. 

He watched her leave, shrugged.  Worth a shot.

Outside, Shallot took out her cell, phoned Aaliyah and updated her.  Aaliyah, who had been hired by Marsball, told her to go to the coffee shop across the street.  Shallot went to the shop, in limited business using bottled water and battery power.  She ordered a coffee, though she rarely drank one, and sat at a table.  There were few people in the shop.  She did not like the quiet.  Right now, she preferred noise.  Looking out the window, she saw Aaliyah walk out of the Marsball building, into the coffee shop and to her table. 

They shared a long hug. 

“That Mastan is a pig,” Shallot said when they sat.   

Aaliyah nodded.  “Actually, you are the reason he hired me.  He called out of the blue.  Knew we’re friends. Part of my job is to stay friends with you, and our other friends, so I can rat you all out.” 

“And you agreed?” 

“Don’t worry, I can work them better than they can me.  I won’t tell them anything useful.  And I thought, maybe you can feed me phoney stuff to feed them.”  She giggled.  “If they push too hard, I’ll quit.  He leers.” 

Shallot shifted, uncomfortable.  “I don’t mean to put you into such a situation.  Never meant to.  What about Farha?” 

“Uh, she’s at the Smelter.  It’s tough for her, over there.  Not just the environment, the suspicion and anger.  She thinks she needs to stay away from you for a while.  She may be able to get out of the Smelter, go to the Farm.  Her dad runs the Farm.  She said she’ll call in a few days and she loves you.” 

“She won’t talk to me?”

“Text her secretly in the game, she’s up for that.  Phone calls and meeting together is for later.  For her.  Me too, actually.  I’m sure I’ll be asked when I go back there.  I’ll feed them a line.  With a hook on it.”  

“I’m bait.”  Shallot felt pale.  “Great.  I feel worse, somehow.” 

She hugged Shallot.  “You’ve got plenty of friends.  Everyone’s scared or needs to see what will happen.  Hold tight.  It’ll be worth the ride,” Aaliyah told her.  “I’m lucky.  I can muddle my way through.  Nobody cares about my family.” 

“My family isn’t who I am.  I’m not my mom, dad, grandmother or my great grand dad.”

“Doesn’t matter.” 

Watching Aaliyah return to the Marsball building, Shallot finished her coffee.  It was cold.

Is this what creating change felt like?  Cold coffee, alone?  No water.  No power—and not only the electric kind.  Everything had become so…personal. 

Was she ready?

Lust, On Mars First Five Chapters

Lust, On Mars

By Victor Schwartzman

Copyright 2024 Victor Schwartzman

906 Bowron Court

North Vancouver BC V7H 2S7

vschwartzman@gmail.com

1

Lust, on Mars

Below them her bed, above them the dome, sealing in the colony from the reality of Mars.  Completed in 2225, today–a hundred years later—still the sole colony.  The reality of Mars intervened in plans for the future. 

By now the clear dome had eroded to a light orange/brown, matching the endless barren landscape outside.  Cracks required immediate sealing from deadly solar radiation, unbreathable atmosphere and subhuman temperatures (today, -117 (not including the wind chill factor) (and it was windy.))  The air was always stale, it never rained.  Polluted smog from the Smelter hung over the city as the less than 400 colonists went about their daily lives—lives of endless work, to survive on a profoundly hostile planet, which clearly wanted them to die. 

Naked, in bed with her, he touched her shoulder.  “Let’s do it.”  Facing her.

“Not yet,” she replied, avoiding looking at him. 

“Something wrong?  I thought we were good.”

“George–I’m a virgin.” 

“I thought you were serious about…what?  You’re a what?”  He pushed himself up.  “How could you be a virgin?  I lost mine when I was fifteen.  You’re sixteen!”

She looked through the window, to the huge dome covering the city, to the orange/brown sky.  To the tiny moon Phobos, barely visible.  Without a strong telescope, it was impossible to see the Earth.  At the moment, everything felt millions of miles away.  More than that, something was wrong with George.    

“I want pleasure,” he insisted.  “Nothing wrong with that, is there?”  He paused.  “Actually, Shallot, I don’t know what the hell I want.  I…have problems inside.  No idea what’s going on.  I’m screwed.  My life is over. Or will be, soon enough.”  He sat up, lean, muscular, attractive but for the selfish gleam in his dark eyes.  

“I’m sorry.”  She sat up, pulling the sheet over her chest.  “This was a mistake.  I’m sorry.  Yes, I am sixteen.  Yes, I have feelings for you.” 

“Feelings?” 

“But I’d only do it because of pressure.  Doesn’t that feel desperate?”  She looked at him, gently.  “Maybe you should go.  I can see you’re upset.”

“I am.”  He looked back, stressed.  “Maybe I should stay.”     

“All you want to do is, well, to do it.”   

They were now both sitting up, naked, Shallot covering herself with the sheet, George facing her, keeping his back from her.  

“I’m sick of it.  We’re dogs, led on a leash, running in circles, chasing our tails.  Aren’t you sick of it?  Hell with this.  Let’s do some Fizz.”  He reached to his pants.

“Fizz just gets me high,” she told him.  Something was wrong with him.  “I don’t want to take Fizz and feel high because without it I’d feel dead.” 

She held the sheet to her neck with one hand, running her other hand through her long black hair.  She got out of bed, pulling on a long, loose dress, covering herself. 

He also stood, pulling on his pants, always facing her.  He took a bottle from his pocket and popped a small red pill.

Suspicious now.  “Are you infected?”

“Have to talk with you, yeah.”  He walked to the windows, looking out. 

Shallot avoided looking at his back. 

She stood next to him at the window, the bed forgotten.  The city sprawled many square miles before them, no building higher than two stories, lit by the relatively bright light from the solar dishes surrounding the city.  She saw people walk on the streets, none with urgency. 

“As soon as I was able to understand,” he told her, “life’s been grueling.  Pointless.  Day after day with no hope, living in this Martian coffin.”

She heard him grunt.  “I agree,” she said.  “And?”   

He suppressed a shiver.  “Okay.  I’m ready.  Look.”

He turned his back to her.  She saw the purple boils.  Suddenly she felt cold.

“Started a week ago.” 

Without thinking, Shallot picked up her phone and pressed the red button.  A white check mark appeared over it.  “Anyone know?  The Clinic?”

He grunted again, holding his stomach.  “Not even my parents.  Especially not them.”  He croaked a laugh.  “Saved it for you.”  He coughed.

“They’ll be here quick.  They always come fast.”

“Ah yes.  They always come fast.  Lust, on Mars.”  He straightened, facing her, panting, damp sweat covering his body.  “Thanks.  I knew I had to call in but couldn’t do it myself.”  He swallowed, gulped, belched, looking dizzy.  “Hope you would.”

“What does it feel like?”

“Things moving around inside me.  Lumps.  Two of them.  Maybe three.  Ohhh.  Getting high from the Fizz.  Feels better when I don’t care.”  He smiled as his eyes rolled back.  “Love the red pill.”

She saw a small lump move under the skin of his neck, around his Adam’s apple.  He swallowed again, coughed, spat up blood.  She heard sounds downstairs, footsteps approaching, then two medical officers entered, a man and a woman, clothed in white jackets and pants, large red crosses painted over their hearts. 

“I’m why you’re here,” he told them, handing over his i.d.  They looked at it, checked their tablets, then silently went over him with a tricorder.  They examined the purpling boils, saw a small lump move in his neck. 

“How long do I have?” he asked them. 

“Plenty of time,” the woman told him.  “Don’t worry.  Plenty of time.  Let’s get you to where you’ll be more comfortable.”  Like her partner, she was in her early forties.  “The new meds deliver lots of remissions.  Come with us, please.  Now.” 

Shallot hugged him and could only watch as he left with the two medics.  Preoccupied, he did not look back.  She stood in the empty doorway, sighed, then took a long hot shower–to feel different. 

It did not help. 

The purple boils, the moving lump under his skin, meant death.  She felt sick for him.

After drying her hair, putting on underwear and the loose dress again, she went downstairs to see what the rest of her day would be like.  She felt awful.  Like yesterday, she did not look forward to today.  And now she had gone from worrying about pressure to have sex from George to worrying about whether he would be alive in a week. 

Her life on Mars. 

She found her parents in the living room, exercising on treadmills with the TV on.  During the week, they exercised at work, along with everyone else.  On weekends, they exercised at home.  Muscles had to be kept toned in Mars’ weaker gravity.  Her father looked at her, concerned, sweating a little.  “We spoke with the medics when we let them in.  Sorry about George.  Nice kid.”

“Yes, he is,” her mother added. “So, honey.  Did you finally do it?”

Mom!”  Her parents could be so clueless. 

“Sorry.  I’m just concerned about you.  Sorry.  Tell me about George.  Are you going to visit, when it’s allowed?” her mother asked, continuing to jog, running to nowhere, periodically checking the gauges to ensure her progress to nowhere was good. 

“Sure.  They don’t allow visitors–I’ve tried with my friends who were infected.  They let you leave candy.  Never flowers.  I’ll go with some of my besties.  First, I thought I’d see Nan this morning, after the rally.  I want some answers about what’s going on.”

“Answers?” her mother asked.  “To what?  And, say hi to mom from me.”

“Sure.  And, answers to all our problems.  What are you guys up to?”   

“Well, there’s the rally, the concerned colonists’ protest at City Hall,” her mom told her, starting to pant.  “Pre-election, lots riding on it.  I’m excited.  Everyone else from Admin will be there.”

“Yeah, Smelter workers will be there too.  We feel unloved.  And, this evening,” her father added, “there’s the Marsball final for Region Three.  Lots riding on it.” 

They chatted some more, she wanted to be polite but cared little, then walked out, saying she’d see them at the demonstration.  George being taken away–she had no stupid small talk in her.  On the street, it was warm and sort of bright, even with the dome’s scarring caused by decades of exposure to storms, sand and solar radiation, and to the impact of pollution caused by the Smelter.  The sun looked more distant and dimmer than it did when she was a child.  Indeed, everything had faded and become worn as she grew. 

She wished everything was…as she saw it as a child.

She walked down the residential street, lined by two storey side-by-side homes identical to hers, most built at the same time about one hundred years ago, replacing the original aging buildings.  On the opposite side of the street, she saw a woman pushing a baby carriage while typing on her phone.  Shallot took out her phone and called her bestie.  Then her other bestie.  They were all going to the demonstration and agreed to meet there.

“George.  I have to tell you about George.  He’s infected.”  Gasps.  “They took him this morning.  He wanted to do it with me, and I wouldn’t, and then he showed me.  The boils were totally gross.”  Her besties agreed to visit the Clinic with candy later.   Aaliyah said she had still had some chocolate, since last month with Alice.  Farah said she’d look to see if she had anything.

Even walking slowly it did not take long to reach City Hall.  Her parents drove by in a cart, she waved at them.  They went towards the old side, Shallot gravitated to the young.  Old was over sixty, by far the largest group in the colony.  Young, under twenty-five, by far the smallest.  In-betweens were in-between.  

They all were concerned, most angry. 

The demonstration had been called to express colonists’ concerns about problems plaguing the colony.  The election campaign for Council started tomorrow.  The colonists wanted the Councillors to clearly hear their message of discontent.  Everyone wanted change–even if no one knew how. 

After a few minutes, the Mayor came out from City hall, to stand on the front steps and face the crowd, the Councillors behind her.  Shallot watched her address the crowd.  Madeline, a tall woman of sixty-five with silver gray hair cut short, nicely cropping her head, waited for the crowd to settle.  The Councillors remained behind her, happy to have her absorb the brunt of the colonists’ anger. 

The colonists held signs:  Elect Councilman Newman For Change.  Vote Marjorie She Can Do It.  There were no signs supporting Madeline, the current Mayor. 

One sign read Elect Mickey–A Mouse Would Do Better.

“I and the Councillors appreciate you are concerned,” she began.  “Welcome.  It is good you are here.  Today you shall hear from those Councillors who…were able to attend. 

“Council has been working hard, in a difficult situation.  The new energy conversion programme works,” Madeline told the crowd.  “The salt batteries should decrease pollution by helping store energy.  It will be some time before the batteries can be built, of course.  Solar radiation remains outside, the dome is secure, although it is aging and cracks are inevitable.  We all want to remain safe.  Speaking of that, the new medications have helped many of those with the bug.  We are working on figuring out what this disease is, what the bug is that has infected a handful of colonists with such tragic results.” 

She looked at the crowd.  They looked at her.  No applause.  Opposition signs pumped up and down.  The air was still.  And smoggy.  Air quality, because of the Smelter’s inadequate filters, was poor.

“What about the pensions?” a girl next to Shallot asked, loudly.  “The taxes don’t cover pensions.  There are a lot of retired workers.  Will I have to work forever to support them?” 

Madeline nodded, grim.  “A year ago, we had to increase retirement age to eighty.  Yes, the money is no longer there to support pensions.  But we do have a plan.  To increase the birth rate.”

“How?” someone asked.

“Also,” she continued, evading the question, “tourism from Earth is still possible.  Council has been working on improving relations.  I will provide more details tomorrow, once the election officially begins.” 

“Why not now?”

“Better tomorrow.  It’s politics, part of my platform.  This is not an election rally, and I respect that.”  She knew they would not like her platform, felt it better to delay.

Silence.  The Councillors behind her glanced at each other. 

Madeline kept herself from sighing.  “I appreciate your concerns.  I am your Mayor, I live here, my daughter and grandchild live here.  The colony’s problems are not secrets.  That’s all I can say.  I’ve nothing else today.  Thank you.”  She walked down the front steps of City Hall and began chatting with people in the crowd, shaking hands with those who would, slowly gravitating towards those holding the few campaign signs for her. 

She knew everyone’s first name. 

Aaliyah looked at Shallot.  They were both sixteen.  “Wanna do some Fizz?”  Shallot shook her head.  “Yeah, what’s the point?  It isn’t real.  George.  That’s how many of our friends?” 

“Too many.  Maybe the dome lets through more radiation than they tell us.  Maybe it isn’t a bug at all.  I need to know the truth.  About George.  About everything.” 

“The truth?  Who knows?” Aaliyah told her.  “We only live to survive on this rock.  Make the best of it.  What you doing now this is over?”

“Seeing my grandmom after she’s done shaking hands.”     

Farha joined them.  The rally fell apart.  No one came forward to speak.  Shallot, Farha and Aaliyha went to a nearby coffee shop.  Aaliyah had her notebook, so for half an hour they played their saved game in Mars and Me.  The game was created years ago by a team led by Shallot’s great grandfather.  It was a realistic version of the colony, with NPGs duplicating individual colonists. 

One started a new game with dangerous cracks developing in the dome, the birth rate plummeting and the population increasingly unable to support itself, pollution killing the crops, water filtration problems ongoing.  It duplicated the problems of the colony at that time, thirty years ago, just after a massive equipment failure left water unfiltered for months, then poorly filtered after.  The bug developed about ten years after the water filtration system broke down.

Shallot’s team with Farha and Aaliyah had succeeded in creating tourist visits from Earth, and the dome was in good shape.  Yet the population remained unhappy, the air bad, the water questionable.  Building morale was difficult.  There was little violence but avoiding suicides was really hard.  As colonists aged, they lost hope.  The population had begun dropping long ago.  The colony in their saved game, despite her team’s efforts, remained depressed and unstable. 

The disease remained one issue they could do nothing about, given the programmers themselves had no idea it would exist when they created the game.  They added the disease ten years ago, when it became unavoidable, but the cause was still a mystery. 

As Shallot played, she believed her life needed to be more than it was.  Her counterpart NPG in the game was doing no better, complaining to Shallot about her parents and no one offering her work.  Just as Shallot had not been offered employment.  When colonists turned sixteen they were assigned to career paths. 

It’s all so emo, her NPG told her.  Aren’t you tired of it?

Totally.

She could no longer sit on her butt.  Too much was happening.  George had triggered deep concerns.  What to do, about everything, that was a question.  She was sixteen.  How much time did she have?  Every time she played the game, she felt pressure to change the colony itself.  The game would never play better until the colony was back on track.  But how?

After she left her besties, who had new jobs to return to, Farha in the Smelter, Aaliyah with Marsball, outside Shallot again felt alone, sole, the only one—alone in this world she never asked to be born into. “Enough,” she said to the world.

People walking around her gave her a wide birth, concerned at her abrupt outburst: another young teen. 

They all seemed discontented. 

2

The Mayor of Mars

In the Mayor’s office there was no room for wavering about life or feeling alone.  There was only reality.  Which occasionally included wavering about life and feeling alone.  Responsible, isolated. 

Madeline leaned back in the plush chair, kicked off her heels and grunted, tired.  Her leg ached, arthritis, but she refused to use her cane in public.  Her EA, Sally, and her Communications Director, Mike, settled into chairs facing her.  She sat behind the large, simulwood desk, they next to her, facing her, the desk not between them. 

Madeline crossed her legs, rubbing her calf.  No one smiled.  “Takes?”

“Self-selected,” Sally said.  “It was publicized as a demonstration of concern.  Most weren’t about to show you any support.”

 “Not the best turnout,” Mike added.  “Says something.  They may not support you, but they don’t like Marjorie either.  They want someone different.  Newman has built steady support.  I talk with him occasionally, see what I can pick up.” 

“No one different has stepped forward,” Madeline said to him.  “I can only be me.  Most people are pissed.  Not only with me, with everything.  Can’t blame them.  We’ve done a lot of this all wrong.  In hindsight.”

The Mayor’s office was large, well lit, a penthouse on the second storey of City Hall, windows for outside walls allowing a view of the entire city.  City Hall was one of the first public buildings built and occupied after the dome was completed and pressurized.  She saw the square in front of City Hall was now empty.  Overhead, always, the dome.  Beyond, an orange/brown sky partly obscured by wind-driven dust.  The tiny moon Phobos was barely visible.  A storm was approaching.  She saw warning lights around the dome’s perimeter flash on.

She opened a bottle on her desk and popped a pill, for the arthritis. 

“Easier sitting right now,” she said, shifting in the plush chair which at the moment was not plush enough.  She looked at the workers at the top of the dome, hanging by ropes, apply sealants to cracks.  “How’s maintenance?”

“New cracks every day,” Sally told her.

She looked at the clock on her desk, an old-fashioned wind-up with a little spaceship that rocked back and forth.  “It’s time.  Time to return to Earth.” They moved closer.  The large monitor on her desk flashed a series of numbers and codes, then Arnold appeared. 

An older man, balding, wearing a crisp dark suit, paper rose in his lapel.  Arnold smiled but they knew instantly the news was bad.  As usual.  A mandated call—it had been a long established practice–because Earth should communicate with Mars, at least once a month.

“Hello again Mars, Madeline and staff,” he said, off the cuff, not reading from a teleprompter.  “Not much news, apart from what you’ve already received.  The water wars continue, the cancer rate’s up and birth rate down.  We’re still dealing with the aftermath of the Continental Wars. 

“Tourist voyages to Mars remain not feasible, currently.  No tourist interest, not with the solar radiation and your dome problems.  More than that, the disease.  No one from Earth wants to visit us and risk it.  More to the point, all the Governments on Earth would refuse to accept them back, for fear of contamination.  No tourist wants a visit to Mars for two weeks which could last the rest of their lives. 

“We’re not selling tickets.  Even though we put casinos in the transit ships.  Those ships are making a profit, going to the Moon.  Economically, we have to fill the ship for it to launch.  You must fix your problems first. 

“We wish we had the resources to help you.  But our supplies are very limited, as they have been for years.  Make do with what you have.  We have every confidence you will! 

“There remains no market for exporting your minerals, given the cost of transport back to Earth.  Our economy is suffering, grants are not possible.  The President’s working through his own problems.  The attempt to improve the birth rate by making birth control illegal has backfired.  Our population imbalance is much like yours.  As are our pollution problems.  But you know all that.  I’ve been delivering the same report for over thirty years. 

“That’s all for this week.  Sorry it was not better.  I doubt you have any questions.”  He smiled, the screen froze and went to black.

Madeline stood, wincing, pushing herself up.  “I’ll send a response later,” she said to her aides, “when I think of something except telling them to drop dead.”  She looked at her cane.  Never in public.  She had to radiate strength.  Well, she was in her damn office.  She took her cane and leaned against it.  She wanted to stand, just not for it to hurt.

There was a buzz.  Madeline looked at the display on her monitor and told Sally, “My grand daughter.  Show her in, please.” 

The large front doors opened and a short older woman entered wearing a medical coat, large red cross over her heart.  Madeline looked at her.  “I was expecting someone else.  Thanks for coming.  Anything?”

“Your granddaughter’s outside.  I didn’t have the time to wait any longer, Mayor.”  The doctor shook her head.  “Four new cases.  The cause is clear enough.  Martian microbes, disease germs, viruses, not filtered from the water.  What they do inside the colonists remains under study.  Blood tests remain normal.  To date, no infected colonist has lived long enough for us to know anything.  Death, after admission, averages two weeks.  Of course, the disease is advanced by the time they are admitted.

“The new drugs are failures, they cause no remissions.  We remain uncertain why some colonists are affected, most not.  In short, no progress.”  She paused, looked at Madeline, took a breath.  “How’s the arthritis?” 

“Still there.” 

The doctor nodded and left. 

Another buzz. “Must be Shallot,” Sally said.    

Madeline asked them to leave and send her granddaughter in.  “Family time,” she said, leaning on the cane.  “She wants support, again.  Poor kid.  Tough, being sixteen.  I’m the grandmom, she needs me.”  She looked at them.  “Wish I was her age.”   

They left and Shallot walked in, closing the door behind her.  “Hey, Nan.  Love you.” 

“Love you, onion.”  Madeline smiled.  “Saw you and my daughter and Antonio at the demonstration.   What do you think?  Am I going down in flames?”

Shallot shook her head, then shrugged.  “It isn’t that they don’t like you.  They don’t like how things are.  Too many questions, too few answers.” 

Madeline nodded, leaning on her cane. 

“All my friends have been assigned work,” Shallot said, looking at her.  “Why not me?”

Madeline frowned.  “Because you’re my granddaughter.  There’s an election.  They don’t want to offend anyone.  We’ve talked about that.”

“A friend of mine, George, is infected.  I was with him this morning.  Nan, I’m tired of being in the dark.  Not knowing what is happening or what I can do about it.  Isn’t it time you told me what’s going on?  We always skirt around it.” 

She looked long at Shallot, considering her day so far.  “Onion, I feel told and tired.  And you’re right.  I’ve always skirted around our problems.  You’re old enough now.  I’ll open the doors so you can see it all. 

“Go underground.  It starts with the water.  Then the dome and Smelter.”  She picked up her phone.

“Now?”  Shallot blinked.  “I thought we would just talk.” 

“Time’s run out for chatting.  I thought you wanted to act.” 

“Now?”  Shallot summoned her courage.  This was what she wanted, right?

“Now is the best time,” her grandmother replied. 

“Okay then.  I’ll go for it.”

3

Life Under The Dome

Shallot had never worn a protection suit.  The suit felt thin, light, protecting against the cold and Martian air.  Suits for underground use were far less bulky than those worn outside the dome—no solar radiation to deal with, no searing winds.  Sealed into the suit, she breathed, cautiously at first, bottled air.  It smelled and tasted almost as bad as regular air—the suit had filters.  She was protected from the deep cold, from the rocky, dangerous ground. 

Walking was easier than she had assumed, even with the uneven ground.

She wondered if the suited workers around her felt the same.  They wore these suits every day.  When she asked her guide, a worker named Wendy, she was told it was part of the deal.  She also told her to take a shower after peeling the suit off.   

The lighting in the huge underground lava tube came from high intensity lamps on the walls and ceiling.  The lava tube was larger than she had imagined.  She stood in a circular cavern, seventy feet wide and high.  Walls of dark brown rock, towards the bottom melted rock from the red hot lava which created the tube billions of years ago, when Mars still had atmosphere and warmth, before it became a dry desert landscape.  The floor was a large frozen lake—the ancient frozen ice of the lava tube, flat and clear, stretching beyond where she could see, into the unlit darkness. 

The cavern felt primeval.  Shallot felt she stood in something…prehistoric.  Ancient beyond understanding.  As beyond understanding as were the enormous eruptions which spewed lava, creating the tubes, draining Mars of most of the surface water it then had. 

She looked at the ice, the source of the colony’s water, the source of whatever plagued her friends.  The ice was clear, hiding nothing.  Innocent.  Large tubes pushed deep into the ice, heated so they would melt the ice, the water then sucked up the pipes to the water plant above.  Madeline told her microbes in this ice was the source of the disease—if it was a disease, and not parasites.  The colonists may not be sick—they may be infested.  Madeline had been clear the Clinic still had no understanding of what the microbes were.  That colonists were infected from the water remained only an assumption. 

Wendy was telling her about the water reclamation operation, one of the first projects of the original colonists, as finding water was critical to survival.  Shallot looked at the many large metal pipes buried in the ice.  Everything about them reeked of age.  She saw several workers replacing sections of one pipe.  Every pipe was patched.  Some had minor leaks.    There was no sound, except talking through the suits’ radios. 

Shallot had never been outside the dome.  So this was Mars, the closest she had ever been.  The huge lava tube felt…alien.  Beyond centuries, beyond history.  Then water, probably from the oceans which once covered much of Mars drained into the tubes, forming hundreds of miles of frozen rivers.  Billions of years ago.  Until she stood on this ancient ice today. 

Ancient ice they all drank, now alive in George.  It powered the steam plant, producing electricity.  It powered their lives.  Water was a must have.  Microbes?  No one knew what else to call them.  She shivered.  She walked slowly onto the ice.  The storms outside were obvious.  What mysteries did the ice’s apparent innocence hide?  What mysteries were inside her?  

Wendy spoke eloquently to Shallot about the lava tubes, the cavern, how it was rarely above        -100.  She talked about working underground.  No pipe was completely new, most over fifty years old, well past its prime.  She spoke clearly about the dangers of the pipes bursting.  Bursting once was rare.

Shallot thanked Wendy as she was led back into the large underground building.  In a pressurized room, she took off the suit.  Sweaty, feeling dirty, she took a long hot shower.  After putting her clothing back on, she rode an elevator up to the surface.  Sally waited when the doors opened, led her outside and a few blocks away, to the dome workers’ building.  “How was the tour?”

“Scary,” Shallot replied.  “The piping has not been maintained properly for years.  They’re worried there will be a major break, pipes bursting.  Also, it’s kind of creepy.”

“Maintenance became very expensive,” Shally told her.  “And Earth stopped sending iron half a century ago.  We simply don’t enough raw materials.  The Smelter an only produce so much, eh?” 

Sally left her in the Dome Workers’ building, where Shallot was eased into another suit—this one thicker, to protect from possible leaks from cracks. She stood on a foot pad attached to iron chains reaching to the top of the dome and rode it up, the chains attached to a powerful motor at the dome’s top.  It was a little scary, watching the ground grow farther and farther away.  She held tight onto the pulley with both hands. 

Two suited workers applying sealants looked down at her as she approached them.  When she reached the top, the pulley stopped.  They swung over to her from ropes hung from a central metal plug in the dome.  “I’m Dan, he’s Warren.  Grab that rope and attach the hook in your suit to one of the rings.  Don’t worry.  We do this every day.” 

Shallot smiled and introduced herself as they helped attach her to the rope.  They were about a hundred feet up, suspended on the ropes.  They told her they had worked on the dome together for ten years.  Every day they rode to the top and applied sealant to small cracks before they became larger.  Looked for developing cracks.  They could do nothing to prevent cracks regularly developing, the dome pounded by heavy winds full of sand and rocks.  There was neither enough sealant nor workers. 

They told her the dome was not stable but would last their lifetimes—probably.  The work was dangerous.  The equipment was old, the ropes they hung from fraying.  More than one of their colleagues had made mistakes—the last mistake was all it took. 

“Just one wrong move,” Dan told her, “we drop like a rock.” 

“How do you feel about that?”

“Sucks.” 

Warren added, “But someone’s got to do the sucking.”  He smiled.

She told them she appreciated the importance of their work.  The three chatted a while longer, but Dan and Warren had to return to patching, so Shallot rode the pulley back down, looking at them growing smaller.  They waved, then returned to sealing a developing crack. 

On the ground, Sally waited, sitting in a cart.  “How’d you like the heights?”

“Scary.  They take a huge risk,” Shallot replied.  “Only old ropes hold them up.  It’s a long way down.” 

“Yes.  Indeed.  I’d be afraid to do that work myself,” Sally told her.  “But it’s been years since one of them had an accident.  We are running low of sealant.  The dome was never built to last this long.  Like the pipes below weren’t.  We run on what repairs we can manage.” 

She drove them to the Smelter.  It was on the far side of the city, away from residential areas.  Shallot’s father, head of human resources, met her as she stepped off the cart.  Newman, one of the Councillors running against her grandmother, stood next to him.  He was a tall, thickset older man with thick blonde hair he apparently spent an hour each morning styling.  

Sally looked at him suspiciously but said nothing.  “Councillor Newman.  What are you doing here?” Shallot asked directly. 

“Part of my work as a Councillor, Shallot,” he replied, smiling and shaking her hand.  She knew he was an enemy of Nan, and felt he was something of a creep.  He held onto her hand.  “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to find out about the colony.  Nan arranged a better look.  I want to get to the bottom of things.  Try to change things.”

“Good, good.  And why do you, or she, want to change things?”

She let go of his hand.  “There’s no conspiracy or anything, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

He put his hand in his pocket.  “Of course.  But there is an election campaign starting tomorrow, yes?”

Her dad, Newman tagging along, gave her a far better look at the Smelter than she’d ever had.  She’d seen the administrative offices, starting as a child when he took her to work.  Now the offices looked older and more worn than she remembered. 

Most of the Smelter was a manufacturing plant.  Iron and other elements were extracted from Martian ore, refined, then turned into what Mars needed—iron for water pipes and dome pulleys, plastics for furniture and building materials.  The main floor was hot and smelled bad, with pools of molten metal.  Poor air was unavoidable and permeated the big building. 

As they stood back at the entrance, Newman said to her, “Yes, it does pump out a lot of pollution.  But we need it operating full bore.  We’re working on improving the exhaust filter but work here cannot stop.  The Smelter is where we manufacture everything, eh Tony?” 

Her dad nodded, standing slightly behind Newman. 

“And the pollution?  Won’t it cause cancer or something?”

Newman nodded.  “We all have to breathe.  Me too.  The solution?  An exhaust hole in the dome,” he told her.  “Pump the waste outside.” 

“But then aren’t we polluting Mars?”

His thin smile thinned.  “Go back and report to your Nan, kid, then find something useful to do.”

Sally waited in the cart.  As Shallot stepped into the cart, Sally said to her, “You should stay away from him.”

“He thinks I’m working for Nan.”

“Yeah, his mind works that way.” 

She drove them across the city, to the Farm.  Large, open fields, filled with stunted crops.  Cary, the head farmer, greeted her warmly at the front gate.  She knew him, he was Farha’s dad.  He took her on a tour.  She saw chickens, goats and cows, everything–except one locked barn.  “Mars stuff,” he told her.  “Secret.”

“That’s where the Martian plants are?”  He nodded.  “The crop doesn’t look so good.  Farha says it’s bad.  How’s our food this year?”  

“Pollution from the Smelter,” Cary replied, “decaying quality of light through the dome, increasing lack of fertilizer.  In four years, we figure, we’ll start running out of enough food to support the colonists.  Then, we starve.”  He sighed, looked at her.  “What do you think?”

She had drifted away, thinking of the Martian plants behind the locked door.  Then she thought of George, isolated at the Clinic.  If only she could speak to him, apologize for this morning.  She hadn’t even kissed him before he was taken away.  She returned to Cary.  “It sucks.” 

Then he held her as she began to cry.

“Your friend, George?” he asked.  “Farha told me.  I’m so sorry.”

She did not cry long.  She had to go to the Clinic.  See George.  Maybe using Nan’s name would work.  No point in having privilege if she did not use it.  Privilege got her this tour.

“I’m going to see him,” she said.  “No matter what.”

“Is that a good idea?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter.  I…abandoned him.”  Her hands fists.  “He might be…gone by now.  I have to know if he’s still alive.” 

4

What Is Inside You

Earlier that morning, George left Shallot’s home willingly with the medics.  It would be embarrassing and futile doing anything else—he would have preferred running, buying himself some time.  Instead, he complied—he would be hunted–and quietly rode in the van to the Clinic.  At the front desk he filled out a questionnaire, had blood taken, was ultra sounded, then taken to a modest room with no lock on the door.  He was in the wing for new patients.  It was quiet, perhaps he was the only patient. 

From what the front desk told him, he understood most of the Clinic was a morgue. 

His room had a large TV and a small notebook computer, a bed and an armchair, an adjacent washroom.  No windows, plain walls.  They told him he was free to decorate the room, and they had available posters.  They took his clothing and handed him the off-white robe and pajamas of a patient. 

George pretended he was not nervous, not frightened.  He knew he was expected to appear calm and compliant.  After he was dressed as a patient, with an ID tag around his neck, one of the staff  gave him a brief tour of the facility: labs, staff cafeteria, offices.  He saw no windows, no other patients.  He drew his robe tightly around him, feeling sealed in. 

He was allowed no visitors, no phone calls.  Several of his friends, over the last couple of years, had entered the Clinic.  None left.  They showed him the small gym, empty, unused.  He was told exercising was voluntary; in fact, everything was voluntary.  Nothing was expected of him except to be there.  Watched.  Every area he could enter had surveillance cameras in the  ceiling. 

He had a TV and a notebook so he could play Mars and Me.  George was told to relax.  He received no medications.  They told him, for now, all they would do is watch.  He was not suitable for the new remission medications.  

Great.  This was it?  His life from now until he died—in a few weeks? 

“Our head physician is waiting to see you.  He has some introductory information.  And your care plan.”

He was taken to a man in his seventies, gray hair tied behind his head in a ponytail.  He wore the standard white jacket and pants but over his heart was a smiley face.  When George was led in, the doctor stood, shook his hand, then sat with him on a small couch.  There were no windows here either.  The doctor smiled, not hiding he had sat with a new patient many times. 

“Welcome…George,” he began, to his credit trying to make this speech sound different.  The patient had never been through this before, the doctor a hundred times.  “I know you’d rather not be here.  And you think this is a dead end.  It is not.  Although you should know, off the top, our new medications have not been effective.  That’s why you haven’t been given any.”  He smiled, appearing engaged.  “I’m Dr. Thomas Setter.  I run the Clinic.  I have hopes for you.  You may be different.”

George looked at him steadily, hands in his lap, gripping each other.   He had already been fed so many lines.  “Oh?  How?”

Dr. Setter showed George his blood tests, the scans.  His blood and hormone levels had reacted differently from other patients.  The eventual collapse of the body physically was not occurring in George—maybe would not occur at all. 

George listened.  “Uh huh.  What the hell’s inside me?”

Dr. Setter leaned forward and patted George’s clenched hands.  “Martians.  They are not microbes.  We do not know much.  There is no indication of a problem until physical symptoms appear.  The boils.  The moving lumps inside you.  We think the moving lumps are the microbes joining together.  What they would form, we do not know.  Unfortunately, no one has lived long enough.  The tissues we have recovered are…confusing.  Human and alien.”

“Tissues?  If I die, you dissect me?” 

“I’m certain that will not be necessary.”  Pat pat. 

“I’m becoming a Martian?  I’ve heard the rumours.” George shivered. 

“You tell us.”

George sat forward.  “I’d like to tell you to go to hell.”

“That is understandable.”

“If you can’t help me, what the hell am I doing here?”

“Being observed.  Every case is subtly different.  And isolation is important until we understand more.  We do not believe your situation is contagious, but…”  Dr. Setter leaned back, composed.  This was going as well as it could.  Although George was smarter, more arrogant than most. 

“Lucky me.  So what do I do now?”

“Live as long as you can.  With our help.  There’s no evidence the organisms intend danger.  We think they are parasites, trying to use you as a host.  But the human body has trouble adapting.  The organs collapse first.  When it hits, it is quick.” 

George put his hands over his face and began to cry. 

The doctor gave him some orange juice and a Fizz pill. 

George refused the pill.  “There’s no one here, in the gym, anywhere.  Is there anyone like me I can talk with?” 

“There’s one young woman, your age, admitted two days ago, but I don’t think she is ready to see anyone.  And there is one, but he can no longer talk.”

Dr. Settler led George out of the office and down the hall.  They turned a corner, opened a door to a long, clean corridor.  George’s corridor.  There were four doors on either side, all closed. 

“Eight rooms,” Dr. Settler told George.  “The doors are not locked.” 

“What will happen to me?”

“One down the hall is wasting away. We don’t know why some are affected and others aren’t.  Why you are infected.  Clues point to individual DNA, body chemistry, hormones.” 

George looked at the closed doors.  He thought of opening one and looking in but did not want to see his future.  “I want to talk with my friends.”

“Sorry,” Dr. Setter replied.  “Isolation protocols are necessary.” 

“Uh huh.  Even though you don’t think I’m contagious. Thanks for everything, doc.  I know you’re doing your best.”  George left him and went to his room, closed the door, and turned on the notebook, to get lost in Mars and Me

He needed to get lost, away.  He had too much to think about and nothing he could do but wait.

He shook a little, looked at his hands tremble.  Wanted to get up and put his fist through the cheap wall.  But what good would that do?   

He looked up and saw a surveillance camera in the ceiling, looking back. 

He was in health jail. 

He had done nothing to deserve this.  All he did was drink water.  He had dreamed about his future.  Maybe joining the dome workers, theirs was the most dangerous, exciting work.  He had never volunteered; his interest was more…philosophical.  But he did think about it.

Now he’d never find out.    

He was thirsty.  He opened the small fridge and spent a long time looking at the bottles of water waiting for him.  And a package of simulated baloney. 

He wished Shallot was here.  He could talk with her, share.  He had a real connection with her, before he became sick.  Then he went a little crazy. 

What would happen if he went a little crazy here?

He looked at the walls, alone, wishing Shallot was with him.  Maybe she’d find a way.  She was resourceful. 

5

Mars And Me

While George struggled with his situation, at the front desk of the Clinic Shallot and her two besties dropped off the rest of Alice’s chocolate.  Alice had died before she could eat the rest.

The woman smiled pleasantly, took the chocolate and told them George would get it. 

Then it was quiet. 

“I want to see him,” Shallot insisted.  “Now.”  Faced with a blank stare, she played the one card she had.  “My grandmom’s the Mayor.  Call her.”

“I’m not calling anyone,” she replied.  “Your friend is in isolation.  “You know what that means.  We do not believe he is contagious but the infection is unpredictable.  Only staff sees him, for now.”  

Not now was forever.  Shallot looked at the clerk, the clerk looked back.  A nurse walking by paused, looking at the clerk, tilting her head to ask if all was okay.  The clerk continued: “You will be contacted when the isolation is lifted.” 

“Has it ever been?” Shallot asked.  ’Lifted?”

“Thank you for the candy.  I’m sure he’ll appreciate the sweets.  He’ll know they came from you.”

“Can I give him a note?”

“No.”

Shallot could either scream or leave, so she left, her besties with her.  Standing outside, frustrated, worried, Shallot said, her voice now even more determined, “We have to do something.  Something where we can not be stopped.  Something that will affect the whole colony.” She looked at her besties.  “We can’t change anything here.  How about in Mars and Me?” 

Mars and Me.  The computer game played by almost every colonist under 30.  Instant agreement.  They went straight to Shallot’s bedroom—her parents were out—opened her notebook and entered their shared saved game.  Farha and Alliyah took out their notebooks and soon they were together, in mind, soul, the game.  

Mars and Me was an open ended, free game created thirty years ago by a team led by Shallot’s great grandfather.  Colonists needed a realistic diversion after the collapse of the water filtration system.  It perfectly mimicked living on Mars, in the colony, populated by NPGs, including those of real colonists, and avatars for players.  Each player had a corresponding NPG, who reacted as the player did to events in the colony, in real time. 

Real events influenced the game. 

Constantly updated, Mars and Me invited community engagement, including allowing players to create new rules, at least for their saved games.  Players could add new information to their saved game, and could forward it to anyone playing. 

Mars and Me was a constantly evolving experience.  Yet the fundamental problems—polluted air, failing dome, bursting water pipes, poor crops—remained, as in real life they had not been solved.  Players could not change those basics, even in a saved game: they had to deal with the difficulties to succeed.    

Shallot told her besties she would input the truth about the colony—the reality about the water, the dome, the weird microbes, the Smelter exhaust and the crops.  The game would accept and incorporate those changes, in their saved game.  They all stared at the options: new additions screen.  “Let’s do this for George,” Shallot said. 

“Yeah,” Farha said. “Start with the bug.”

Shallot entered the screen.  She could not delete that there was a bug, but she would change the  information about the bug in the game and replaced it with:

The bug is a living Martian organism, not a disease.  There is no information about the organism other than it is alive and drains the energy of its hosts.  We ingest it when we drink Martian water.  Colonists were infected starting thirty years ago, when the water filtration system failed.  The Martian organisms draw energy from their hosts, who so far cannot tolerate the drain and die.  Colony leaders have knowingly lied about this.            

Aaliyah said, “Maybe the game can come up with something we can use.  It’s better at modelling than anything City Hall has.” 

“Dad says there’s no help with the crops, our food,” Farha told them.  “We should talk about that.  But first the pollution.”   

Shallot typed. 

Aaliyah added, “NPGs should feel life sucks.  No one should pretend to be happy anymore.  Can we do that?”

“Let’s find out.”  Shallot steadily typed.  They watched the words appear on their screens. 

“We need the NPGs to make it urgent,” Shallot said, writing.  “This has been in place six months.  Plenty of time for the game to reflect the changes.  They’ll live in a bit of a different colony.  And let’s add what’s realistic about the Smelter and the crops and the dome.  And the water supply.”  After more typing, she hit enter.  “Here goes nothing.”    

Absorbing amendments.  Please be patient. 

Have you exercised today?

It took ten minutes of the game incorporating the changes, an unusually long time.  Finally the main screen reappeared and they were back in the game.  They found their NPGs sitting in NPG Shallot’s bedroom, playing the game.  Shallot and her besties had mostly ignored their NPGs.  They had never done this before.  They asked their NPGs how they were.  They all replied, worried. 

Shallot sent her avatar to the street.  Around her NPGs rushed, with purpose.  Shallot stopped one, a stressed bald man wearing glasses.  He looked like a man in the colony who worked in Water, an NPG version of him. 

What’s up? she asked.

Union meeting,” he replied.

Questions then appeared for Shallot to click on:

–Which union?

–I want to join you.

–You should be arrested.

 “Whoa,” Shallot said, reading.  “Uh, what’s a union?” 

Farha entered the saved game.  “It worked.  It’s all in there.  The game colony has really changed.  Everyone feels threatened.”  She opened a box and hit a key.  “I’m sending invites to our friends, to use this saved game instead of theirs.” 

After gossiping with an NPG, Aaliyah said “The game says the dome has fifty years.  By then, perhaps sooner, it will fail and flood us with solar radiation and Martian air and sand.  We’ve really done something.” 

“Yeah,” Farha said, “an NPG buying an Americano told me the pollution makes the dome worse, plus the cancer rate’s up.  Unlike the colonists, they want to do something.  I think the game still reflects the colony, so they can’t do anything.  They’re frustrated.”

“And the water pipes are overdue for a major burst,” Shallot added. 

They spent the next few hours playing the game, inviting their friends in, their friends inviting their friends in.  Soon half the players on Mars were in the new version.  Shallot, Aaliyah and Farha created an interactive town hall, where the real players could talk with each other—and with the NPGs.  Shallot explained how they had altered the game’s parameters and why. 

Most everyone knew George and was concerned about him, along with other friends who had never left the Clinic.  No one was sure yet how to contact George.  Did they even let him have a computer?  Shallot’s NPG said she’d been trying.  It was an eerie feeling for Shallot, chatting with her NPG.  Before, the NPGs reflected colonists, but felt like only mirrors.  She never sought out her NPG to see how it was doing.  It was doing what she did.  More, it was not alive.  It was a computer generation.

Today, the NPGs in the town hall were alive, acting differently from their real life models.  They had personality.  Change, the desire to directly confront the colony’s problems, had arrived.

By late afternoon, Shallot knew what a union was. 

Real Life Interactions In The Digital Age

Arnold was exhausted.  He concluded it was because he was around other people.  When he sat at home alone, he had plenty of energy, or at least enough.  At 80, he never had quite enough energy.  Alone, he interacted with people by a distance, with delays—texts, emails.  No matter how stressful the interaction was, now matter how much attention and energy it required, he could address it when ready.  When alone. 

But when someone visited or Arnold went outside, relating to people was real time, one on one–immediate.  He had to listen, pay attention.  He could not pause the action to use the washroom.  Real life interactions were not like streaming.  He had to be there, all the time.

How could Arnold make his real life interactions more like his digital ones?  More distanced, less intense?  It would certainly be more convenient–for himself and probably everyone else.   The world was increasingly digital, especially with AI.  He thought of using a hologram of himself, but that would not work for personal interactions.  People expected the real thing. 

His solution was dainties.

Every visitor was provided with coffee or tea.  Every fifteen minutes, Arnold would bring out a new plate of dainties.  He and his guests would stop any conversation to eat.  Conversation paused as chewing ensued and beverages were sipped.  At least now there were regular pauses where he could ignore visitors for a moment.

Arnold knew this was somewhat Elizabethan, but it worked for them over a hundred years ago.  Yes, there was some weight gain initially but Arnold moved to low calory dainties (which were very popular.)   It was not the most scientific or creative solution, but dainties were practical.

A New Climate Change

A New Climate Change

Jack was increasingly concerned about climate change.  Not tornadoes or atmospheric rivers or heat waves.  Jack was concerned about farts.  People ate healthier, with far more fiber, resulting in a wave of farts.  Riding in an elevator was often an unpleasant experience, as was being stuck in a meeting with ten people after lunch.  Something had to be done.   

Jack’s solution was a pill he created.  A very North American solution, the pill when taken regularly would make farts smell sweet.  Jack lobbied hard for legislation to be passed requiring taking the pills.  However, he had not counted on the powerful fiber lobby. 

They launched a counterattack, spreading fake news that the pills were dangerous, that farmers would go bankrupt, that digestive gas—the lobby avoided the word farts—did not smell that bad, was gone in a few moments, and should be appreciated as a sign of good health.  A few extreme events did not mean the climate was changing. 

The fiber lobby was deeply entrenched and pulled in favours.  The legislation was defeated.  Indeed, it was replaced by legislation requiring citizens to eat two salads each day.  Fiber intake increased, pumping methane into the atmosphere until the ozone layer opened new holes, allowing solar radiation to pour through. 

The industry moved to fiber vapes, but by then it was far too late. 

Following Advice

A group of elephants, wisest of the beasts, wanted a leader and asked the Wise Old Elephant what to do.  She asked why they could not make their own decision.  They did not understand her response and created a King.

The Rhinos said don’t do it, but the elephants would not listen.

He was not a very good King but they followed his orders.  Their society suffered but they believed that was their fate.  Eventually, their King died.  They had gotten used to someone making their decisions for them, so once again the Elephants decided to seek the advice of the Wise Old Elephant.  Frustrated they had learned nothing, the Wise Old Elephant advised them to choose a King who would not die, and they should therefore choose Death as their King.

The Rhinos said don’t do it, but the elephants would not listen.

The elephants eagerly followed the Wise Old Elephant’s advice and made Death their King. Who then claimed them as his subjects.  As they all perished, they asked the Wise Old Elephant why she had given them such bad advice.  She replied because they were so willing to follow it.

Turns out rhinos are wisest of the beasts.

Turning The Other Cheek

Martin was a regular fellow.  Unfortunately, people ignored him and his ideas, hurting his feelings.  He always turned the other cheek.  His turning the cheek was not based on any religious belief.  It felt demeaning.  He needed an alternative.  Eventually Martin had artificial cheeks implanted.   

The new cheeks looked like his real cheeks–but now when he turned the other cheek, the implants absorbed the emotional slap in the face.  They worked on a higher level than his real cheeks, being computer enhanced.  He went to work, shopping, family dinners wearing his new appliances.  Each night he peeled off the used-up cheek, a fresh one waiting underneath.   

It was good.  When his family and friends saw the benefits–Martin was perkier, had more energy, was less frustrated–they had artificial cheeks installed themselves.  Most of them could afford the most expensive cheeks.   

Less well-off people settled for cheaper versions (which wrinkled.)  As usual, the poor had to take more abuse.  The class structure created problems but most folks knew you get what you pay for. 

Sleeping Through Life

Simon worked hard.  Work was his entire life.  He loved it, was good at it, was widely respected.  He did not mind he had no partner, no family.  What he did mind was being asleep.  He could not work while asleep.  He lost time–and resented that.   

As he aged, his body asked for more sleep but Simon never listened.  By the time he hit 75, however, his body needed rest he could not deny.  Yet at his age he wanted to be conscious as much as possible.  He refused to fade out.  Simon’s solution was a computer chip in his brain. 

Implanted, Simon got into bed and quickly fell asleep.  The plan?  He would sleep yet be awake.  As he slept, Simon planned the next day, wrote an important report and, while on the computer, posted his profile on a dating site.  Simon was more productive asleep.   

He changed to working from home and slept as much as possible.  It did not matter he no longer communicated directly with people.  Eventually, Simon was never awake.  His body got its rest and he lived longer.  He could sleepwalk through life, and did, continuing to work until he quietly passed away (in his sleep.)    

Emily Dickinson Hated Submitting

Emily Dickinson hated submitting.  It was demeaning, ill fitting.  She wrote for herself and felt no need for her work to be judged by others.  But.  By her sixties she had many poems sitting unknown on her shelves and now believed people should read them.  She had to get her work published.  Yet Emily Dickinson hated submitting–it was demeaning, ill fitting. 

Most publishers want a manuscript sent only to them, then you wait three months or longer for a response.  She divided her work into thirty-nine submissions to individual publishers, each containing different poems.  After a year, the response: twelve publishers folded and the others sent vague rejection emails.  She never knew how many of her poems were even read.  Emily Dickinson hated submitting–it was demeaning, ill fitting. 

Self-publishing was her sole solution.  She printed and distributed herself an anthology of her poetry.  Then, in a stroke of unbelievable luck, she broke both her legs falling down the stairs of a bookstore.  The local TV station’s feature on the recluse author with the broken legs went viral.  Sales of her poetry soared because of the feel-good story, then word of mouth took over.  Millions of copies were sold.  Her legs healed and she felt fulfilled.   

That was when unpublished writers sent her their work, asking for advice and help.  The more famous she became, the more unsolicited manuscripts.  It took a year to get to a manuscript in “the slush pile.”  She rarely read more than the first page, then sent a standard note that said thank you but she was only a writer.   

Emily Dickinson hated submitting–it was demeaning, ill fitting.  

Randall Stephan Hall

Today’s guest is the musician, artist and fellow of many skills Randall Stephen Hall, calling in from Ireland. You’ll hear him sing live, plus we play a recording of Beauty From Belfast. Stories and poetry from Ariadne, Randall, Sharon Rowe, Kelly Montgomery and Victor Schwartzman. Fascinating show, great listening!