Subjectivity: Chapter Nine

Stephan’s eyelids were heavy as his lidded gaze remained fixed upon the motionless figure before him. The simulated sound of an analogue clock ticked in the background and could be traced to the one foot in diameter clock on the wall, whose digital surface gave no indication to moving parts, but nevertheless sounded upon every second. However such was lost to the weary young Greek, for although his eyes were set upon the still form of Roe in the bed before him, his mind was kept in the past wherein he recalled the series of events that had brought Roe to such weakness. The sight of the latter so vulnerable was an off-putting and worrying sight: Stephan drew much strength from Roe’s stoicism and mental and physical fortitude, and to see him as such drained him as well. It had come as a great surprise to the extroverted young man that had he become dependent upon Roe for his composure and will to carry on in such a tumultuous time, and Stephan could not help but imagine if Roe took strength from his presence. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips then as Stephan quickly discarded such a notion; Roe did not take strength from anyone, for everyone he knew, save Natalie Bellerose, had violated the sanctity of his body: they had opened him up like a frog in a dissection, starved him, beat him and so forth all in the name of science. The disturbing revelations that Stephan had gleaned from Roe sent shivers down his spine, though such were dwarfed by the horror that had occurred but a few hours previous. Stephan had been awoken by a scream so tormented and terrible that he felt his very soul shudder and at the same time be set aflame with terror. Finding the source of the cacophonous scream, Stephan was flabbergasted to find Roe sitting up in his back with his hands so firmly clenched into the sheets that blood was drawn and from the spaces between his fingers oozed copious blood.

Though it was the blond’s eyes that truly terrified Stephan that moment, for the detached composure of Roe Speremus had been destroyed and been replaced with another’s ruinous mind that could be contained by neither force of man or nature. Moreover he had simply collapsed out of bed with his broken gaze transfixed upon Stephan, and yet it was not his name that was mouthed, but another, one that the brunet did not recognise and indeed could not pin to the few people he was aware that Roe had met previous to their own introductions. However his thoughts were momentarily interrupted as the Subject before him shifted in bed. White sheets had been haphazardly drawn up to his sternum and he had been left in little clothing to avoid needless dehydration through a possible fever. Stephan himself sat in a chair a few feet from the bed that was accompanied by a small side table. The young, sea-green eyed man had initially insisted upon sitting next to Roe’s bed, believing that he would wake quickly, but decided against such nanny-like worrying, as he believed that the silent blond would not appreciate such concerns. Natalie had also arrived shortly after he, and the woman was nearly in tears when she found Roe in one of the hospital wing’s worst equipped rooms and had him moved to a better one immediately, only to sit with him for about an hour, before she was called away to deal with a few other Subjects who were refusing to sleep.

Mother Natalie confused Stephan greatly, for although he found the woman to be kind, nurturing and gentle, he could not fathom how she could allow such subpar treatment of Class Nine and Ten subjects such as Roe to go on. To his knowledge, the woman was the executive of NELO, or at the very least one of a few, such as the other parental figures of which he had not met. Moreover, when he had looked her up on the internet, there was surprisingly little factual information about the woman: her age was not listed, her place of birth and so forth. Surmising that such was Bellerose’s effort to remain private, Stephan dismissed it, but still found such privacy to be curious, and questioned what he wished to hide. Though his concerns were once more questioned by the qualitative measures of her person when he had searched for her, for the woman was heralded as a queen among humans for her work with Subjects by both Subjects and Normals alike. However, once more, his thoughts were interrupted as Roe grunted once, and opened his eyes. The once horror stricken gaze of another man that had stolen the Subject’s visage had been conquered by the emotionless mask that Roe always wore and he merely sat up in bed and stared forward for a moment. “Curious…” The single word escaped his lips with a raspy quality that implied dehydration and so, as Stephan rose, he grabbed a glass of untouched water intended for himself and handed it to Roe who stared at him cryptically for a long moment, regarding him strangely, before merely accepting the glass silently and drank heavily.

Stephan retreated back for a moment and procured the stiff backed plastic chair he had been seated on beforehand and placed it at Roe’s bedside before speaking; “Roe, are you alright? What happened?” His words seemed to fall on deaf words as the now awoken Subject merely stared at him with a learned gaze that implied a great deal of contemplation. Having grown accustomed to such prying looks, Stephan merely sat and allowed the Subject to further cement his thoughts before moving forward with his train of thought. Stephan desperately wished to know what Roe was like before the incidents at NELO had damaged him so, but could not fathom him any differently than what sat before him: cryptic and reserved. To his knowledge, Roe was indeed quiet as a child, but he could not have been as emotionally dead as he was now, it simply would not make sense. He could not fathom Roe as a Nobody as Class Ten Subjects were referred to. Impatience gnawed at Stephan as he waited for Roe to speak, and so he spoke again, his voice tentative, worried that he might incite more extreme response from the normally reserved figure, “…Roe?” The quiet nature of his voice angered Stephan, and he scolded himself for being so meek. Roe was not his enemy and he did not have to worry about angering them and whether the former realised it or not, Stephan considered them friends and as such would not expect either to hold a harsh tone against the other.

Finally, Roe seemed to pay attention as his gaze shifted forward and toward the blank television screen on the wall. The flat piece of technology looked to be no thicker than a small notebook and yet it was capable of so much. A few centuries ago, televisions were incredibly thick, bulky, heavy and were had terrible resolutions that gave no means of seeing subtle markings upon the program at hand. Stephan had seen a few in a museum wherein the curator had explained that they were referred to as ‘tube TVs’ in the latter twentieth century, though were replaced by primitive ‘flat screen TVs’ in the early twenty first century. “Yes, I am well. I apologise if I had given cause for alarm. I was not myself.” Roe’s words came out abruptly and though they were predictably bereft of any tentative nature, Stephan sensed a lack of belief in his own words by Roe, and cast a worried gaze to the blond, who merely stared forward. “A peculiar dream. I do believe it instigated a part of my mind long thought dead. A curious thing indeed.” Roe affirmed to himself before shifting in his seat and tossing the covers off his poorly covered body. Stephan rose from his chair and stepped back, not wishing to offend the ever enigmatic Roe who did not seem to care for exhibits of excess emotion. Roe walked to a small table across the room wherein a pile of clothing had been gathered. Donned in such garb, Roe once more looked the part of a Subject and seemed to take great displeasure in such, for he frowned at his attire. A long, white, loose shirt fell to his mid-thigh and was drawn together off to the side with a few tiny magnets. Accompanied by a pair of white pants and white shoes bereft of laces, Roe made his way to the door. “We must speak with Mother.” His words were succinct and implied urgency.

Stephan fell into line as he followed the Subject who belied his nigh comatose state from but a few moments before as he took long, even strides down the hall. Taking a few of his own, Stephan had begun walking next to Roe, “What do you want to speak to Miss Bellerose about?” He inquired, and Roe merely shrugged once, evidently unwilling or unknowing of what their conversation would entail. The two encountered critical stares from NELO staff, though the majority were directed at Roe, and if they bothered him, he did not let such be seen, as he continued forth as though they did not exist. “Vadim and Emiliyia went to bed after about an hour of sitting with you, and Miss Bellerose had to go deal with a few Subjects, so I’m not sure where she’ll be… You gave us quite the scare, you know.” Stephan felt his mouth running with nonsensical chatter, though Roe did not seem to mind and merely continued on forward, intent to arrive at his destination in a timely manner. “… The Union’s Russian forces have arrived at Neo-Palmyra, by the way,” Such words from Stephan did seem to alarm Roe, who casted a hidden gaze at the former before he continued forward. Silence fell on the two as they rounded the corner and entered a glass encased channel between the hospital building and the central administrative building and outside the night sky shone brightly. A convergence of stars could be seen that struck down the sky on a slight angle and Stephan acknowledged such as the galactic plane, though found its beauty to be impressive. There were many stars, many of which had planets, and a scarce few of these with planets akin to Earth. A probe had been sent out to one of the many earth-like planets, though it would not reach its destination for hundreds of years, it had already sent back fascinating photos and gave insight into the still largely unknown universe, even though public interest in it had faded years past.

The two entered the administrative building and were immediately flanked by a set of elevators. The panel between the two was activated by Roe who pressed the button for the top floor and the two waited for the elevator to arrive and bring them to Natalie’s office. “If the Union military has arrived, then our plans must be expedited. But NELO is no nation; it has no means of protecting itself. Moreover, we have many Subject sympathisers coming to Neo-Palmyra and we have no means of sustaining them. This is a perilous situation.” Roe’s words, calculated and calm, struck truth in every thought, and Stephan merely nodded in agreement, though remained unwilling to admit the impossibility of their quest. “Nevertheless, we will endeavour forth. If that dream was indicative of anything, it is that we must remain true to our convictions. I will not allow my people to be slaughtered, and I will not allow strangers to defend me while I cower in safety.” The elevator before them dinged with its arrival and the doors slid open, revealing a cylindrical glass elevator that appeared to be bereft of any mechanisms above or below. The two stepped inside and with the electronic indication of the top floor, the doors closed and the two ascended. “Mother made me aware of a rebel group in a small town on the north side of the island. They will be our salvation, or they will herald our fall.”

The elevator sounded once more after silence fell and the doors slid apart. Before them was a spacious reception room which was ornately made up with a large, semi-circular oak desk with two pillars that framed it and reached the ceiling on either side. Large panels were on the wall behind the desk, however the screens were offline and only blackness met one’s attention upon their screens. On either side of the room, clusters of white, angular furniture were collected and centered around glass coffee tables. No receptionist nor clerk sat at the large desk and indeed no other person, save themselves, could be seen. However, farther from the desk and next to each pillar were a set of white double doors, one of which was ajar. Roe did not pause to consider knocking as he made his way toward the door and pushed it open. The two entered an equally spacious, though oddly sterile, office. In the centre was a long, glass desk whose right side was accompanied by a white filing cabinet. The primary monitor sat in the centre of the desk and looked to be supported upon a narrow metal pole, though the desktop itself was covered in electronic readers which displayed all manners of documentation, files, and the like. The entire far wall was seamless glass that allowed the pale moon light into the office and gave a serene, calm ambiance to the otherwise sterile room. On the right wall sat a shelf so long that it joined the glass wall to the one that was shared with the reception area and was covered with pictures of what Stephan suspected were Subjects with Natalie and or a few other men and women in lab coats he did not recognise.

At the centre desk sat Natalie Bellerose, who donned a pair of black dress pants and a lavender blouse that shimmered as though it was metal. A slim instrument was held in her fair hand that appeared to function as a pen on the reader before her, and she wrote away busily, apparently unaware that Roe and Stephan had entered her office. Roe spared no time for pleasantries or introductions and instead merely had begun to speak: “Mother, we have a problem that you are already aware of. The Pacific Union will destroy this place and the innocents within. We cannot allow this.” His words startled the woman, for she jumped in her seat before composing herself once more and nodding, though evidently Roe had more to say. “These terrorists on the north coast, they just might be our salvation.” Natalie sighed wistfully and rolled her chair backward before turning it around and staring out into the night sky. Stephan stepped forward to speak, though found he had nothing to contribute. Though the Pacific Union bore down upon the small island, the night was peaceful and bereft of the war that had been called to remove the Subjects poisonous influence. The reality of such boggled Stephan, for it seemed to be nothing more than madness than to believe that innocent people were somehow subhuman or perhaps nonhuman.

Natalie merely nodded once, “Yes… I’ve thought of this, and I do agree it’s our best hope of securing the island. If we can keep NELO safe, we’ll be able to generate enough food from our own greenhouses with the protection of the Red Dawn, but even still…” Natalie Bellerose trailed off, her gaze having become distant. The blond woman pushed herself to a stand and turned to face the horizon on the waters far off. “It’s all gone so awry…” Her words were pained and Stephan took an impulsive step toward the woman, though felt a strong hand grip his shoulder and found Roe to be keeping him back, the latter offering a subtle shake of his head. Natalie turned about face and settled her gaze on Roe for a moment, “But Roe, you’ve never liked this place, and understandably so… Why would you want to protect it?” Her gaze fell for a moment, “Why would you want to help me, after how I’ve failed you so many times?” Her words struck empathy in Stephan’s heart, who yearned to tell the woman that Roe did not hate her, and he knew that, deep down, the enigmatic figure loved her dearly, and saw her as the only family he had.

“This is not about failures or successes of our paltry lives, Mother. I saw it in my dream, I understand what I must do, lest my dream become reality… What I saw…” Roe trailed off, and Stephan turned to face the Subject, and gave him an imploring stare. Roe’s gaze too fell to the peaceful sea that rolled in and out outside the edges of NELO’s barrier encased boundaries. “I will not have Laevan’s war and the blood it spills on my hands. And those three…” His gaze fell to now open palms that faced upward at his eyes, his gaze haunted, “I will not fail them…” He looked to Stephan for a long moment, his gaze once more boring into something unknown to the extroverted Greek, “I will not fail them.” He repeated sternly as he turned his gaze back to Natalie. “No, I will not stand by. Send me to Laevious on the north shore. I’ll garner this Red Dawn’s help myself.” His words struck a shocked silence, a common theme of their disjointed conversation, though Stephan found such simply unacceptable, cleared his throat, and gained the attention of those gathered. Natalie cast her conflicted gaze to the formerly silent Stephan and Roe’s inscrutable gaze was drawn as well.

Stephan looked to Roe before settling his gaze upon Natalie. “It’s all well and good to say we’ll just go and recruit a bunch of terrorists to act as our personal army, but how the hell are we going to get there? Moreover, how are we going to convince people who want to protect Laevious to abandon ship and come save our asses?” His words struck a pang of uncomfortable truth and the woman his gaze was settled upon seemed to wither in her stance. Though Stephan spoke again, worried the harshness of his words might dissuade an otherwise noble affair, “I’m not saying we shouldn’t try. I’m saying we need to go prepared.” Though the Greek found a previous point of contention come to mind, and so he turned to face Roe: “And you! If you think you’re going into a town that’s in the middle of a war between the Pacific Union and the Red Dawn, you're a lot dumber than you let on.” Roe opened his mouth to protest, though Stephan shushed him with a grin, “You want to go to Laevious? Then I’m coming too.” Roe groaned quietly, for he was evidently not fond of such an idea, though Stephan spoke up once more, his gaze flickering between both Natalie and Roe, “And that’s that.”

*~*

It had taken much convincing and many concessions upon his and Roe’s part to acquire Natalie’s aid in the form of transportation and protection, however the battle of attrition that was waged was won in their favour and so they stood before a NELO rover. The vehicle was pristine and looked as though it had never been used before, for its white panels were bereft of dents nor were its tires dirtied whatsoever. Stephan himself, though garbed in regular attire, was restricted slightly by the skin-tight body armour he wore underneath which clung to his bare skin with such fervor that even his breathing was slightly restricted. Natalie had informed him that such would lessen as the material grew accustomed to his movements and she encouraged him to move around and allow it to become more malleable. Adorned in a pair of slim beige chinos, a red t-shirt and over top a nylon collared coat which fell to his mid-thigh in length, Stephan felt a rather conspicuous piece of machinery at his hip bother his gait. Roe, too, wore the body armour under his own clothing, though if the ever serious blond was made uncomfortable by its restrictive properties he gave no indication to such. More glibly garbed, Roe was adorned in a pair of black pants, a grey skin-tight shirt and finally a black jacket akin to Stephan’s. The machination upon Stephan’s hip that irritated him as he walked was a hand gun, something Natalie had insisted, though admitted to wishing such was necessary, was of standard issue and readily available to NELO guards. The firearm was loaded with a new type of bullet; one that did not burrow deeply like a regular bullet, but instead a bullet that split apart into two midair, struck the opponent an inch apart, and delivered an electric charge that rendered them motionless for roughly a minute, depending on the size of the individual.

Stephan’s mind wandered as Roe spoke to an individual that had introduced themselves as Xanthus Khruson, a Subject also of the thirteen generation. Barring his peculiarly traditional Greek name, the man was outgoing and friendly with jade eyes that sparkled with a relaxed sense of justice. Moreover, with hair almost the exact same colour as Vadim’s, he struck an eerily familiar person to the morose Russian who had yet to arrive to see them off, though according to Natalie, he and Emiliyia were visiting with some of the younger Subjects. ‘It’s all changed so much,’ Stephan mused, ‘Before, my biggest concern was getting into university. Now? I’m wearing body armour and a gun to get ready to meet with a terrorist organisation to help us keep the Subjects safe from Laevan’s hatred.’ His gaze fell to the figure before him: Roe. ‘And him. Why have I helped him like I have? Roe is dangerous, even I know that. No one seems to know why he’s doing what he’s doing, not even him.’ Stephan frowned at the thought of an indecisive Roe, ‘And that is a very worrying thought.’ Stephan’s mind, fully removed from the conversation at hand, was abruptly returned to reality as he heard his name spoken, “Hey, Steph. Stephan. Earth to Stephan…” And with a smack upside the head, Stephan’s gaze snapped to Xanthus who stood before him, triumphant in his ability to regain the former’s attention. “Better! We’re going, better buckle up.” Xanthus offered him a wry grin, and Stephan only rolled his eyes at the other’s exuberance to mete out their possible ally. However, he obliged and hurried into the vehicle whose removable roof was no longer present. The young Greek took a seat in the back booth wherein Roe sat on the far side, his mind evidently having drawn him away from the mission at hand.

As the engine started up nigh silently, Stephan cast his gaze to his right and saw Natalie, Vadim and Emiliyia standing behind a glass window into the vehicle bay of NELO. Natalie offered him a kind smile and a look of reassurance and despite her own worries, she kept her composure and remained resolute in her faith in her son and his friend. Vadim seemed to have a look of both worry and pride as he merely nodded and offered a small, fleeting grin. Emiliyia’s eyes had seemed to begun to water, for they were growing puffy with her concern, and he offered her a little wave, to which she responded. The vehicle he sat in abruptly began to roll toward one of the many closed bay doors. As they neared the shut bay, the large port’s door rose upward into the high ceiling and the three drove out of the building and onto a gravel road. The road noise was made small through the quiet nature of the electric engine and the smoothness of the rolling gait of the vehicle, however Stephan shifted uncomfortably in his seat and after a moment of failing to find comfort, shifted the holster on his waist to sit next to him, as opposed to behind him and press a firearm into his lower back. The sun had already begun its descent into night and brilliant hues of orange, gold and crimson had begun to dust the sky with their majesty. Xanthus seemed the most impressed by it as he spoke aloud with vigor and a childlike excitement: “Check it out! That’s what I love about this island: so little atmospheric pollution, so the sunset looks so much more natural and less… fucked up.” The road before them curved right and as they followed the curve they thus headed northeast. The large wall that encompassed the NELO Compound was already in sight when Xanthus spoke up once more, “Hey Roe, did you know Logan Hayes?”

The named seemed to startle Roe, as much as the ever stoic figure could be made uncomfortable, for he looked up toward the back of Xanthus’ seat, “Yes. He and I were of the same Generation and lived nearby, due to the proximity of Nobody and troublesome Subject quarters.” Xanthus slowed the jeep as they reached the great barrier that marked NELO’s boundaries, and Stephan found himself wondering if the wall existed to keep intruders out or Subjects in. He cast a glance to Roe, and decided that it was most likely to keep the Subjects inside and away from the public until they were ready for adoption. The reality of Subjects being adopted had seemed to make Roe bitter, for when Stephan inquired of them previously, the blond had few words on the topic, and did not seem interested in speaking of them. His musings once more broken by reality, their jeep slowed to a stop as they reached one of the many sets of cast iron gates that marked each wall in irregular intervals. A guard emerged from the small toll booth between the lanes of traffic. The man was garbed in a typical NELO guard uniform: white dress pants were made militant with equally white combat boots. Moreover, the man adorned a shirt much akin to what a police officer might be seen in, though white, for it held many pockets and looked to be padded. The man looked entirely bored and was evidently not one for idle conversation, much to Xanthus’ frustration as he attempted to strike up banter with the man. However the guard merely extended his scanner, scanned Xanthus’ wrist before opening the gates after retreating into his booth. As their vehicle rolled forward once more, Xanthus grunted in frustration.

“I forgot what dicks NELO employees could be. Would it kill them to not treat us like second class citizens? I don’t know how they stay around with Mom being almost the head honcho here.” Xanthus’ words only received a nod from Roe, though if the former found the latter’s response unacceptable, he did not seem to imply such with a small smirk and a rolling of his eyes. They picked up speed anew as the large gates behind them closed silently. To their right one would see the distant Graham City, whose skyscrapers were akin to great spires of some sort of fantastical glass and metal kingdom of a child’s imagination. Their tall might bound endlessly into the sky and toward the clouds, and although they were not as tall as some of the more land locked cities such as New Detroit or Moscow, their impressive structures dwarfed the once mighty structures such as the Eiffel Tower or the Empire State Building. All of the largest buildings were made with massive, gaping holes near the crest of their height to allow intense winds to pass through and not damage their structures. However their path did not send them near Graham City and its impressive skyline, and instead headed northward toward the small town of Laevious, whose population was nothing more than a few thousand. “Laevious was founded by the Laevans, shockingly enough. They named it after themselves, can you believe that? The Red Dawn’s got balls for standing up to President Laevan in his family’s namesake. I have to say, their leader is either brilliant or insane.” Xanthus spoke up, as though he had read Stephan’s mind as he stared at the road before them, “Then again, people say the line between madness and brilliance is difficult to define.”

Silence once more fell over the three as they continued onward toward the embattled town. As they headed toward the small seaside town, a peculiar sight began to mar the picturesque horizon: columns of black smoke rose in the distance and from their vantage point orange flames could be seen flickering. “They’ve begun the attack. Laevan’s forsaken the lives of the innocents in that town,” Roe spoke suddenly, his solemn words having garnered attention from both Xanthus and Stephan, and the two merely nodded in reluctant agreement. For as they neared the town, it became more and more apparent that many buildings had already been destroyed and although no skyscrapers rose from the humble town, its squat buildings were made sad from the fires that burned from their ruined structures or destroyed windows. The smell of smoke filled their lungs as they reached the edge of the town wherein one found the true nature of the devastation of the small ville. However Xanthus did not slow their advance into the city and instead sped their vehicle up. The street around them was clogged with debris of fallen buildings and all around them homes and businesses alike were turned into rubble, and only a few remained recognisable as buildings. Stephan was reminded of the horrors of World War II in Britain and Berlin, wherein the Axis and Allies respectively had reduced both cities to rubble in many places. Much of the debris was scorched black or otherwise discoloured and although no fires burned on the outskirts of the small town, the acrid smell of smoke was quickly becoming joined with a much more morbid aroma.

Xanthus turned down a smaller road and the three found even more destruction therein: one of the commercial buildings that served as a base of operations for a sea debris recycling company had been toppled onto the street and made their path impassable. “Shit. Hold on, guys!” Xanthus called out as he slammed his foot onto the brake pedal and turned the wheel with such ferocity that the sound of tires skidding could be heard as the vehicle spun around completely before setting off once more. “I had heard that the Union forces had arrived but to do this to an innocent town in this day and age? And they call the Red Dawn the terrorists!” Turning down another street, he abruptly stopped their vehicle and backed up, having found a ruined house clogging the street, “I may have to drop you off here, I can’t go any further down the main road without being noticed by either the terrorists or the Union.” Xanthus cautioned as he continued down the primary street they once traveled upon. The median, once made tropical with palm trees standing up happily, was no more and the once festive trees were toppled onto the road. The devastation only became more thorough as they reached the inner parts of the town, where entire blocks had been reduced to rubble. With the view of the ocean now restored, thanks to the bombings of the Pacific Union military, the three from NELO were now privy to see the aircraft carrier that had dropped anchor off the northern coast of the Pacific Union. The massive structure loomed silent and still in the distance and warned of impending doom, and Stephan failed to fathom why such destruction was necessary. Before them, the roads had been made impassable, however the government buildings that marked the town hall and its adjoining structures, were partially in sight, and so Xanthus stopped the vehicle and looked back to the two. “Alright, I’ll be just around this corner, so when you guys are done talking to the Red Dawn, come back here and we’ll return to NELO.”

Before Stephan had even removed his seatbelt, Roe was out of the vehicle and on his feet, his withering azure gaze set upon the ruined scene before him. Stephan quickly made his way out of the vehicle as well, and offered Xanthus a firm nod, the chauffeuring Subject offered the Greek a nod in response and both Stephan and Roe set out in the direction of the town hall. The two traversed ruined debris that once comprised a fountain and a park, however it was now little more than a green field of cement and metal. Stephan found his steps uneven and awkward as he walked over the debris, though Roe seemed unhampered and merely charged forward with unknown purpose. Was it anger that drove the ever reclusive Subject? Or was it something else? Stephan could not be sure. However it was a new voice that caused them both to stop; “Freeze! Don’t move,” and so the two turned to face a young woman garbed in ruined khaki pants and a green t-shirt with a red sun rising adorned thereupon. Roe’s gaze remained even, however he placed a hand on his hip, the weapon he holstered still hidden under his coat. Stephan kept his hands at his side, not wishing the woman to know that he was armed, for he was still very unsure if he could use it. “Who are you? You’re not from Siochana. Everyone’s left or their dead.”  Stephan remained quiet, deciding that unneeded words would only enrage the already frantic looking woman. Her skin was darker and her eyes narrowed with thinly veiled fear and it was from her black hair and facial features that the young Greek man determined that she was Japanese.

“Siochana? A curious renaming. Such means peace in Irish, does it not?” Roe’s words were cordial and calm as he removed his hand from the holster on his side and took a few steps forward, regardless of the woman who had drawn a pistol from her side. “If you believe us to be of the Pacific Union, you would be quite incorrect. I am Roe Speremus,” the Subject spoke once more before gesturing to Stephan, “And this is Stephan Tharros. We come from NELO to speak of a common concern both our peoples share.” The woman quirked a black brow before she slowly lowered her weapon and seemed to calm slightly. Stephan too took a few steps forward, offering the woman as much calm as her could muster in the situation. They had been held at gun point and Roe did not even seem to be remotely phased by such life or death matters. The woman spared a glance to him, her incredulous stare softening as he offered her a small smile. Once more, Roe spoke: “I take it you are acquainted with your leader? If so, then please, bring us to him, for we are not his enemies.” The woman looked as though she was about to speak, though once more Roe skillfully outmaneuvered her concerns as he spoke again: “Logan Hayes and I knew one another in NELO. I wish to speak of acquiring the Red Dawn’s aid for defending the Subjects,” once more, Roe spared a glance over to Stephan, “And all those who stand with us.”

Stephan nodded once in agreement, and motioned to the looming aircraft carrier, “Surely you know that you cannot hold out against them forever. Why die protecting a destroyed town when you can live out your dream of a peaceful world with us? We have food and a place to sleep for you, and you can help us make a strong foothold on the island: one that’s defendable. NELO is surrounded by high walls and with your help could be made militarily safe.” Stephan felt the lies spill from his mouth and he cursed himself for speaking as though he understood such matters. He wanted so desperately to help, to contribute something to Roe’s cause, though found himself to be little more than an extraneous cheerleader most oft. However, the woman seemed emboldened by his words, and responded with a holstering of her weapon, “Help us end Doran Laevan’s tyranny. Help us free the Union of his hatred.”

*~*

The echoed sound of footfalls could be heard through the expansive, ruined complex therein. Hidden fixtures above were unlit and many of them were yellowed with age, and warned to cast a filthy light on the sad building’s forgotten interior, were they activated. Cautioning against falling to the ground from their damaged supports, the immense circular light fixtures that hung ominously above held within them no visible light bulbs, but instead were made bright through phosphorescence long ago, though the organic property that had been administrated thereon was long gone. Once, the building would have been alive with a pure white brightness that engulfed all and gave an unpolluted radiance bereft of the ambient buzzing of the fluorescent tubes of yesteryear. Cracked cement floors stretched out into the abysmal lighting of the night outside into the distant recesses of the building, and all through the floor’s grey surface were blackened stains that seemed to stretch deep into the ground. Above these ruinous stains were great and gaping holes in the ceiling whose enormity was lost to one’s gaze.

A great and massive arcing ceiling was above and strapped with massive, metal beams that supported its weight. However, though once seamless in its perfection, the ceiling had fallen into decay with large holes having been exploded into existence with such force that the metal itself had been melted and cooled in such swiftness that frozen icicles of composite metals clung to the roof’s interior. The entire building held an immense morose feeling to its ruined interior: the walls, once shining metal, now dulled and rusted were blasted with black shadows that had seemed to eat away at the metal. Moreover, the destroyed ceiling seemed to hang asymmetrically, for its once admirable features had sagged greatly in many places, mostly around places where the strange, partly melted holes could be found. Throughout the large complex were once sophisticated, now discarded and dilapidated machinations whose structure was foreign to one’s initial attention. A hauntingly horrific feeling permeated the building, and one could almost feel the eyes of the fallen bearing down with miserable gazes that longed for release as they reached these alien looking machines. Such feelings would not be felt from on high, but instead from low, which gave the impression of an innocence once prevalent in the ruined building had been perverted irrevocably through the dread hand of death.  

Much akin to an operating table, the pristine machines held within a thin cot that was permanently erected in the centre of the machine and all of these strange contraptions had beds which were covered in dark splotches of crimson so aged that it appeared black in the dim, evening sky whose starry cloak peaked out through the holes in the ceiling. Many of the peculiar contraptions’ beds remained made up, patiently awaiting the return of those who would never again lay in their protective and nurturing being. The bed itself was encased almost fully by a glass cylinder that overlapped the edges of the cot and disappeared into the supporting structure below, and its exterior was covered in long since neglected panels, which were now left to collect dust instead of performing any function. The glass tubes stopped just below the last foot of the bed; where one’s head would lay. Instead, from a crane supported from below the bed, a scanner that also seemed to act as a head restraint floated overhead, awaiting prompts from the panels upon the glass screen that would nevermore be given. Three panels sat on pedestals around the less ruined machines: one on either side of the head and one at the foot of the bed while others were either completely gone or merely stumps of metal and plastic. Lastly, the largest part of the contraption was placed before the head of the bed. Encompassing the circumference of the glass cylinder that encased the thin bed, the bed akin to an operating table itself appeared to be able to slide into the torus shaped machine whose lower half was lost in the floor below. Appearing to be roughly six feet tall, the strange machine looked foreign and although many were damaged beyond recognisability, they stood as silent sentinels over the disremembered cots. Without fail, however, every one of these machinations had a signature hole bored into the torus shaped machine at the head of each bed on the exact centre on the right side of the curved features, wherein what appeared to be a large processor had been removed.

A solitary figure had stopped at one of these complex machines to observe it closely. Their footsteps fell silent as they merely looked upon the dilapidated machine, as though someone lay within and they were but the administrator of such machines. Alone he stood at the panel to the right of the glass cylinder which encased the blood stained co. After a moment of renaissance, he placed a gloved hand on the cracked panel’s flat surface, though no lights would come to bear, nor any indication that the machine was active. The man’s gloved right hand traced the inscribed markings on the side of the machine. The numbers thereupon indicated the machine’s serial number, and the man who traced them sighed quietly, prompting a sorry echo of the man’s resistance. “This is where it all began. Curse fate for allowing this one machine to survive,” the man spoke quietly, his voice a thin whisper that seemed to rasp and quiver with every word, as though his voice would fail him at any moment. With a smooth motion over his right hand, his glove was removed and he tossed the fabric to the ground, already forgotten as he spoke aloud once more, this time with a more pronounced voice, which echoed off the destroyed building; “This is where he was born: Subject One.” He let his hand fall from the console before looking to the bloodied bed. He was no fool and was very aware that the first Subject ever created was not the only one of his kind to occupy the machine, and it was evident that, like countless tens of thousands in the same complex, the last occupant had died while being brought to term in the artificial womb that was the half-torus shaped machine, accompanied by the entire construct. His gaze transfixed upon the panel, he read aloud the writing inscribe thereon: “The Reification Extrapolating Genetic Energy Nexus,” the man at the foot of the bed commented idly, “We are the shepherds of truth; those who walk in the light of God’s good will and his righteous commandments from which we do not stray.” His words, rehearsed to perfection, were given through his raspy voice and made morbid and eerie through his unsettling voice.   

The strange man slowly walked over to the circular machine at the far end and placed his hand on the edge of the removed console, “Just as Eve in the Garden, she kept her evil production a secret. It is a blessing none have been able to replicated NELO’s REGEN machine and make their own Subjects. For the Lord’s might does not allow more abominations to be born.” His words hung in the air with eerie acceptance by the ruined complex. The wind moved through the building for a moment, a low howl echoing through its expansive interior, and for that moment one might hear the screams of tens of thousands of young children, babies and unborn children as they died in a manner so brutal that it was rarely, if ever mentioned.t Though the haunted screams of pain did not phase the solitary man, for he had seen public opinion move from such an incident being seen as one of the most depraved acts to more recently accepted as necessary. For, according to they, Subjects were not people and were overcrowding the Earth and had begun to create hegemony in all fields to purportedly protect their own ulterior motives. The strange man’s gaze remained focus on the console before him as the screams of the fallen echoed freshly in his mind from the fateful day of their slaughter, though he continued to feel nothing for them.  His contemplations were broken as he heard the sharp footfalls of someone in the darkness from the far side of the empty complex. The entire building, so large that its vastness was lost to the night’s invading darkness, did not give heed to the newly revealed figure for quite some time as they made their way toward the formerly solitary figure. However the peculiar male was neither alarmed nor angered, for he merely stood and patiently awaited the newcomer’s appearance into the short range of sight he was privy to in the darkness. As a figure began to materialise from the blackness now before him, he beckoned in a mockingly welcoming gesture.

For this man was a man of a most peculiar likeness: his skin was deathly pale, as white as porcelain and looked to be as though one had drawn the skin of a man half his size over his figure, for it was taut and inhumanely bereft of any fat. Moreover, his skin, where visible, was accented with dark blue, near purple, veins that bulged in an unsightly fashion. Small moles and freckles could be seen on the white flesh where veins did not show themselves so obtusely that any other imperfections in his skin could not be seen. Long, equally pale strands of hair protruded from his thin, stretched skin and were cast out like tendrils on an alien beast. Visible upon his exposed hand and on his neck and face were strange tribal tattoos that seemed to have faded, for their inky blackness wavered greatly in place to place. Their meanings were lost to the common man, for they were traced back to African societies pre African Revolution which saw the majority of Africans discard their ideologies for ones more readily accepted by the Economic North. Many other old markings were made upon his hidden body, though were lost to sight, as his garb kept him nearly fully hidden. His eyes were a particularly disturbing sight; for where the sclera was normally white upon an average individual, his were a sickly cross between yellow and brown colourations and accented with bright red veins. Complementing the morbid veins indicative of fatigue were the colours of his iris which, also much unlike the common man or woman, were a bright red that seemed to fade into a dark, blood-like crimson closer to the lightless, black pupil from which no reflection of light could be found. His hair was a peculiar white that was almost blond at the roots, however remained wispy and thin and stuck out awkwardly in some places while otherwise seemed to happily fall into line over his dry scalp. Donned in almost priestly robes of an era centuries past, light, inexpensive linen and cotton died variants of white and beige rested loosely around his skeletally thin figure.

Sickly thin hands having been extended outward in a gesture of faux kindness were adorned with long, yellow nails that had broken on almost all fingers and the man offered a light bow to the newcomer, his unsettling hands flourishing slightly. However the new arrival did not strike such a fantastically unnerving person though appeared to intend to keep their identity a secret through their attire. They were adorned in a floor length black, double breasted jacket made of nylon that was fitted tightly around the person’s decidedly feminine figure. Curvaceous and womanly, the figure’s bosom was pronounced through the rather unsubtle placement of buttons by the designer of the coat, though if the woman intended to pronounce her figure, she did not imply such with her modest stance. Moreover, she wore a wide brimmed, equally black, hat with a single white feather sticking back at a forty-five degree angle. Her hands were carefully cradled before her and in them a simple black leather purse. Wearing a pair of black heels, her noisy footsteps finally silenced as she stopped before the man. Her hair was impossible discern, for although it flowed freely down her back, it did not ascribe to any one colour at one moment and instead shifted after a short pause. Offering a flourish of her hand as opposed to a responding curtsey to the peculiar man, she spoke with quick words that beguiled what could be considered a kind tone; “You know this is dangerous for you and I both,” Her words echoed off the expansive building and bounced back at her, and she seemed to wither at the harshness of her words, “I-I… apologise. You know how I worry,” The woman offered a slight incline of her head before a small smile could be seen below the low rim of her hat; “You look well.”

The figure across from her turned about abruptly after she fell silent and gripped the rim of the glass tube that encased the narrow cat and with a seemingly effortless push, shoved the cylinder down toward the end of the bed, forcing it to extend a great deal off the end of the bed. Deciding it had been pushed far enough down, the skeletal, pale figure took a seat on the long-dried blood and shrugged lightly. “If I shared thy concerns, my composure in this most sullied of grounds would not be so steeled, for God’s protection doth see me safe in all my holy ventures.” His raspy voice was barely heard as it struggled to announce every syllable, though even through his pronounced and slow efforts therein, great nobility could be heard, for although the man sounded frail, his ease of movement as he had taken his seat beguiled any thoughts precluding weakness or senility. “As for my health, it is as it has evermore been. The Stranger is a man of great ability, greater than those who thought to… know him. They could not awaken to the truth of what they did to him, for the Lamb did not allow it to be.” His words, cryptic and lost upon any other than the two of them, withered the concealed woman before the man who had referred to himself as The Stranger. The hidden woman’s shoulders fell and for a long moment, and she merely stood there, lost in thought. Composed once more, she took a single step forward, and her slender hand grazed the long forsaken control panel. Awkward silence fell over the two as The Stranger and the newly arrived woman became lost in thought. The former merely sat, his crimson gaze transfixed upon the woman before him.

“I thought you learned that staring was rude,” Her response came out with a detached coolness that beguiled her previous morose thoughts. The strange man pushed himself to a stand, now almost toe to toe with the woman before him, and placed a hand on the console, his withered fingers curling inward and causing jagged, broken finger nails to scrape noisily on the cracked screen. The two merely stood there, her slim fingers but an inch from his, who so scornfully looked upon her following the woman’s words. “My failure…” Her words trailed off as she retracted her own hand. “I want to loathe you, you know. I never wanted to harm you, but you never forgive… you never forget. You want to destroy us all for what we did,” Her words were laced with anger and after a moment, she let out a huff of frustration, “You try to kill everything we’ve done… I’ll never forgive you.” Turning sharply around, she had begun to leave when she paused once more and spoke again, “And yet, you’re just a hypocrite.” Her words seemed to anger The Stranger who pushed himself to a stand and closed the distance between himself and the departing woman, grabbing her by the wrist and stopping her. The woman complied partially, and backed away while turning back to face the man. Once more, a heavy silence fell over the two.

The Stranger shook his head, “I dread you with such vastness that the oceans are made small. For you, succubus of Satan, do works so evil that none can look upon you and feel worse.” His words hung in the air with such ominous weight that the two merely stood there, the odd looking individual, although having released the woman, pressed forward, keeping himself incredibly close to the woman who lurched backward. “A mother who cannot mother, a woman who defies nature: the aberration and true hypocrite sees herself fit to judge another. Just as Pandora you opened a box of untold horrors and claim ignorance. And yet you hide your face, demon of Hell, lady of Tartarus. Are you ashamed of the face you where? The lovely lie that you are? ” The Stranger, using his free hand, grabbed the brim of her hat and with one solid movement removed the piece of concealing garb from the woman and tossed it to the side where it landed with a quiet skid. In its place her once perpetually transforming hair was now a still blonde that shimmered in the broken moonlight from the exploded holes in the ceiling above. Moreover, bright azure eyes, normally filled with kindness and love, were cold and stared at The Stranger with a detached malice unseen in the woman by any other than the curious looking man. For it was a most peculiar face for the woman to wear.

“After all, Mother, Doctor, lady, and so forth, you are but Natalie Bellerose. Now you lay judgement upon one who has awakened many to your acts and yet you call me flawed. But you did not raise me, you ignored me. You feared me. For some time you had no cause, no godly justice to do so… But now you do, do you not? I have taken God’s work to Earth and made it my own. Your sins have caught up with you, Mother Natalie, are you ready to face punishment?” The Stranger gestured to the ruined hall around them, “After all, I did not do this. This is the act of God. The sleeping fools you put under your thumb of power saw it as a monstrous act, but now? Now they look at us as great arbiters of justice. And how easily it was done… to turn the Father against the Mother.” His words enraged Natalie who stormed forward, closed the distance between the two of them, and struck the pale man with such fervor he went sprawling to the ground and fell to the ground in a heap. Though where a man so frail and sickly looking would be expected to be terribly injured, The Stranger merely cackled madly. “Yes! Strike me down! Try and stop me, for I am awakened!” His senseless laughter mockingly echoed through the destroyed building, “Slay me now and but another will take my place! Stop God’s work and he will bring unto the Earth another holy man to do his bidding…” Once more, he trailed off. Pushed off the ground, he stood again and faced Natalie down with a cool resentment in his crimson gaze, “But you know that you can never kill Subject One.”

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