Subjectivity: Chapter Eighteen

Gherkin Alpha, the peak of One City: it was where the most powerful man on Earth held his office. Spiralling girders of metal met at the point of the round room’s pointed ceiling and the walls around were covered in glass. The opulence of the room was without par: a chandelier was hung from the highest point in the room and, being from the Palace of Versailles, it held a grandeur so magnificent that to look upon it was to be momentarily blinded when the setting sun’s rays caught its brilliance. A large desk was situated in the centre of the expansive room made of pure white metals that curved into a perfectly flat surface for working. Behind it, a nigh throne-like chair was situated for this most powerful of men. Emblazoned with the insignia of the Trans-Pacific Republic, it gleamed with golden filigree and velvet cushions placed to allow comfort in its immobile place. All around, the vast One City stretched out in endless tones of grey and black, for the city was still under construction and the only completed building was Gherkin Alpha.

Three figures were within the office of the Prime Chancellor, the first seated like an emperor upon his throne: Prime Chancellor Doran Laevan. Garbed in a crimson suit also emblazoned with the insignia of the republic upon his lapel, his coat tails were draped respectfully around him, and with one leg loosely crossed over another, he struck the likeness of  the king he had fashioned himself to be. “People of the Trans-Pacific Republic!” The cameras before him, floating over magnetic strips for seamless movement, whirred as they zoomed in when he spoke, evidently beginning their recording. “I have marvellous news! We, the united peoples of those great nations who surround the Pacific Ocean, have embarked upon our most grand of projects. One of unity, one of might, one of splendor in your name! In the people’s name!” He extended his hands dramatically as he spoke, his movement fluid, impressive, and were meant to awe the viewer into submission when coupled with his appealing words. “We of the Trans-Pacific Republic have begun construction of the One City, a project by the design of myself, for it is a labour of love I tribute to you. The One City is a place where all peoples may gather for commerce, culture, governance and all grand pursuits your pure hearts’ desire!” Pausing for a moment, he folded his hands before him, toning down his grand statements for a moment. “The One City is not a place that serves only the elite of one place, for it serves anyone and everyone. It is a floating fortress of freedom upon the ocean that joins us!”

Motioning out the window, the cameras panned and focused outside on the idyllic scene. The storms of winter had calmed for the day and now the sun shone brilliant rays of crimson, gold and other mystic colours over the calm countenance of the endless ocean. “This is our highway, friends. This is the vein that connects you to us and us to you.” Flicking his wrist, the cameras turned and faced him once more. “The road to this day has been fraught with sorrow, pain and loss. We were betrayed by a group of individuals we thought our equals. Alas, we were wrong. The Subjects of the New Evolutionary Leap Organisation have shown their colours. The attacks upon Zhongnanhai, the Chinese Parliament building, the Kremlin in Russia, the former Pacific Union Trans-Federal Senate in the United States and many others have been linked to a horrific truth.” Looking physically injured by the news, Prime Chancellor Laevan placed a hand over his heart, “It pains me, my friends. It pains me dearly. It was the Subjects. They slaughtered our family members and left us to blame The Awakening.” Slamming his hand down onto the desk, “But they of The Awakening are not innocent! Their crimes are those without repose. To damn any who find the illogical kindness in themselves to protect a Subject is not their providence!” Falling silent once more, he pushed a stray strand of grey hair back, smoothing out his fine velvet suit. “With the approval of my fellow Chancellors, we have arrested any Subjects with connections to these terrorist attacks. We – nay, I ask you for your patience.” He pushed himself to a stand, and placed a fist over his heart.

“I pledge this most solemn of vows to every single human being in the Trans-Pacific Republic!” He roared fiercely, his voice stern as he looked up triumphantly. “Every man and woman who brought pain to you and yours, who saw your kin die, will be brought to justice!” Looking back to the camera, Doran Laevan smiled grandly. “A new world is donning my friends. A world where you and I may live in peace: where nations and war are a memory, where we love one another as brother and sister, as father and son. Sex, ethnicity, religion, ideology; these are things that bind us together in their differences, not rent us apart!” Extending his hands to the cameras, he stared deeply into their mechanical countenances: “Will you join me on this voyage to peace?” With that, the cameras whirred once and lowered themselves to the ground. Sitting once more, the man ran a hand through his hair, sweat beading from his hairline. Slow clapping could be heard off to the side, and the Prime Chancellor canted his gaze to the source of such. There, where the elevators’ doors had just closed, stood a familiar man whom Doran Laevan had not seen in many years.

The clapping ceased as Laevan looked upon the man. Clad in black dress pants, a cobalt blue dress shirt, and a knee length lab coat over his sturdy frame, he looked the part of a NELO Subject Keeper. Though this man was far beyond such mundane people, for through his strong jaw, piercing heterochromatic eyes of green and brown, and pure white hair, he controlled the foremost authority on medicine. “Well done, brother,” the man commended the Prime Chancellor with a touch of condescension, “Well done indeed. The plebeians will eat that melodramatic nonsense up as though they were starving orphans and you had offered them a four course meal.” His voice was gravelly and yet somehow sinister in its smoothness, as though he knew exactly what to say and was entirely aware of the effect of his words. Where Doran Laevan fancied himself a king, his elder brother Galvin Laevan was most assuredly the court magus; filled with secrets and knowledge untold. “Why, I almost believed you for a moment. But alas, I am not a child and in my many years, I have learned to never trust your poisonous words.” The younger Laevan remained silent for the moment, rising from his high backed chair and meeting Galvin midway.

His mouth turning downward in an almost pompous frown, the Prime Chancellor looked over his brother. “The years have not been kind to you, Galvin. You look as old as time itself,” he chided coyly, and received the slight furrowing of the older man’s thick brows. “Though I trust you have not travelled from the correctional facility to merely scold me for being dishonest?” Passing by the taller man, the head of the Trans-Pacific Republic moved toward the far wall, staring through its glass surface and to the large buildings being erected below. He had purposefully made sure that no buildings would be as tall as Gherkin Alpha, so that his view would remain unobstructed. “Don’t tell me,” He looked back to Galvin who was carefully observing the trinkets on his desk, “You need more money for the Ragnarok Project?” The two brothers, who so callously loathed one another, shared in an amused chuckle. A distant memory, older than time, came to mind for Doran as he saw his brother as the scared boy in Ireland so many years ago, and he felt the iron wall around his heart crack for a moment. Though it quickly amassed itself once more and so he continued his thought: “As you shan’t be receiving any more funding until I see results.” Galvin rose to his full height once more, and returned his attention to his younger brother.

“Well, we have results. It is merely that my assistant is… reluctant to aid me. Over twenty years and she still has not forgiven me for my part in your little… exploits.” Galvin Laevan spoke with bored disregard about the subject of the NELO One Compound’s obliteration and the mass slaughter of half a million Subjects. The elder brother chuckled bitterly for a moment, “If she thinks that was bad, then she will be simply distraught at what you plan to do with her beloved Subjects,” the words came out with a haughty tone and, though the Prime Chancellor did not relish the actions he would undertake, he knew them to be necessary. The two fell silent as he stared silently through the glass wall and into the fields of construction below. The screams of the children haunted him still, for Doran Laevan would awake in the dead of night, clutching his head with tears in his eyes, screaming at his past self to not do it. But to show weakness to Galvin was to give him the opportunity to overpower him. Man had created monster in their own image, and it was that damning fact that left the younger brother lamenting at night for their crimes and the willingness in such.

Turning to face his brother, he could feel a nervous excitement build in his old heart. “It’s been so many years and yet I still feel excited when we undertake these projects. Let us away to the experimentation chambers. I wish to see the progress you and Natalie have created, and if our theory can be extrapolated through the system you have proposed.” Galvin wasted no words and made his way to the elevator, a simple metal tube that sat off to the side in the circular room. As Doran himself approached, the doors parted and the two entered the circular elevator, which was composed of merely a floor below and the polished walls of the tube it descended it. The Prime Chancellor had deemed it unnecessary to have walls within walls, given that he was the only one to ride the elevator along with any of his guests. With a few taps on the screen and a scanning of his thumbprint, the elevator descended at the younger brother’s command and the two stood in eerie silence. “I am trusting you to oversee the Ragnarok Project while I am away. I must travel to the eastern nations and secure their fealty. The Canadian President and Prime Minister folded easily enough, but those of Asia will prove more resilient, I am sure.”

Galvin nodded once, “The project will go on as planned, whether you are here or not. You forget, its completion will aid me greatly. The Laevan Foundation will see profits it has not been privy to since the Barren.” A small smirk grew on the man’s face, and Doran merely rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the claim. After a few short minutes and the walls around them passing by with blinding speed, the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors parted. Sectored off by glass paneled walls, the much larger floor of the Gherkin Alpha was filled with miserable looking men, women, and children garbed in the traditional experimentation clothes of a Subject. “Here is our happy flock, taken from the storm bunkers of NELO itself,” the older man explained passively as the two moved by a pair of guards, their black uniforms shining pristinely. “I must say little brother. The rebranding of the Union was a clever move indeed. You eradicated the Pacific Union’s charter and in doing so gave yourself full legal authority to do as you wish. Since none of the nations would be stupid enough to defy you, you have a full claim to over half the world’s population and wealth.”

“I did not do what I have done for personal gain,” the Prime Chancellor explained as he removed his jacket and draped the crimson attire over the back of a chair. Underneath he wore a grey dress shirt with a golden ascot. “I have done what I have done out of necessity. I will bring order or he will do it with much more terrible means.” Rounding the corner into the central testing room, a truly broken women sat before one of the large consoles. Her once brilliant blonde hair was dulled and left in a messy ponytail. Dark blue eyes, once filled with joy and kindness, were empty and looked as though she had wept often and recently. Where her clothing was once perfectly fitted, her lab coat was too large and her blouse untucked. Bandages were wrapped around her head and a shining metallic cast was placed around her leg. “Ah, Natalie, so good to see you,” Doran greeted the woman coolly. Natalie Bellerose merely looked over, her sad eyes quickly moving away from he and his compatriot. “Very well, we shall dispense with the pleasantries. I wish to see if this system works.”

Doctor Bellerose pressed a few buttons on the console before her, and the once opaque white wall before them became as clear as glass. In the large room were seven Subjects: two played chess at a nearby table, three watched television, one read and the other sketched. “These are professionals from the Palmyra University, five are doctoral candidates and the other two already have their doctorates,” Natalie explained in a monotone voice. She had been utterly broken and yet in Doran’s cold heart he could find nothing but glee for the sight. At long last, after decades of her denying his reality, she was his to control. She looked over to Galvin who nodded once and spoke in a monotone voice, devoid of emotion: “I’ll activate the system, now.” With a few buttons superimposed on the screen before her, Natalie connected three cords which had been procured from the console itself and connected them to three implanted ports in her forearm. The wounds that they were looked to be infected and had swollen considerably. Though if she felt pain, the once loving mother gave no indication or simply had no emotion left to give for such things. Closing her eyes she stiffened for a moment in her seat and those gathered in the observation room became still.

“If I am to understand the system correctly, you’ve implanted a chip in these Subjects to respond wirelessly to the commands from the console in front of her, yes?” Doran inquired. Galvin nodded once, however remained silent. “Let us see them do something, then. Natalie, have them all stand.” The woman gave no response but, with perfect synchronisation, the seven Subjects stood. “Remarkable… You’ve accomplished this through mere brain chemistry. It is incredibly impressive.” The Prime Chancellor felt a wicked grin grow across his face as he observed the Subjects, “Tell them to turn one hundred eighty degrees, walk three steps forward, then face right.” With his instructions, they did as instructed. Though a few stumbled sideways and Natalie grunted in pain in her seat before her eyes shot open. Tearing the plugs from her arm, she wiped away blood that leaked from her nose. “What is the meaning of this? Why have you stopped?!” The young Laevan demanded impatiently. The once proud woman shook her head, and trembled in her seat as she struggled to regain her composure. Her breath came out in ragged gasps and she coughed violently before sitting up.

“The system requires an organic computer, if you will,” she explained, still trying to wipe away the blood that fell freely from her nose, staining her once pristinely white lab coat. “We tried running this in the computer, but the commands are too complex for current code. Instead we interface the computer as one does at home with their own computer, to allow hands-free movement and the like.” She coughed loudly for a moment before shaking her head, “But the toll imparted on the mind is too great for a non-Subject. My mind is simply not conditioned to being used so intensively.” Natalie leaned her head back and closed her eyes, still attempting to calm her partially seizing body. “It’s simply too intense for someone like myself, or anyone naturally born, really. You’d have to have interfaced with a computer extensively as a child and even then, there would only be a few that could.” Doran looked to his brother, and the man nodded, indicating he had an answer. Seeing such, Natalie forced herself to a stand, “Please, no,” she had begun to beg, “Don’t hurt my children. Not again!” She cried out, going to physically stop them, though simply crumpled to the floor. “Not again,” she whimpered sadly, “I can’t lose any more children… My heart can’t take it. Please, Doran…” She looked up to the man.

A memory assaulted the Prime Chancellor then, of when they had met: she had proposed the idea of using the DNARP to create Subjects, and telling him that they could finally have a child. Withering significant at the memory, he stooped down and collected the woman, though she shirked from his grasp. ‘Evidently time cannot heal all wounds,’ he mused morbidly. “Natalie, go get some rest. Galvin will take over for now.” Grateful for not having to torment her children and too weak to argue out of her own guilt, she merely nodded and, with a snap of his fingers, Doran brought two guards around the corner who escorted the woman out of the room. “For what it is worth, Natalie, I am sorry that this has happened.” She muttered a few words, though he chose not to hear them, insistent upon remembering her as the young woman who had loved him, and not the woman she was now, one that feared and hated him with all her heart. “Galvin, do you know who we could use for this system? It appears as though our options are vastly limited.” The man smirked darkly, and the Trans-Pacific Republic’s leader felt a feeling of dread overcome his mind as he looked over his brother. He was so similar to Subject One in many ways: they had the same smirk, and had even once had the same eyes before the mad Subject had maimed himself to distance himself from them.

Galvin canted his gaze to his kin, the corner of his mouth turning upward nefariously. “I do indeed have a Subject whom I have been vetting for this esteemed position, yes.” The man’s sly smirk grew ever more devious as the expression turned into a grin. “Subject ID: 17135244, Classification Level Nine,” The number did not seem familiar to Doran, though it was made all too clear as the Subject’s name was uttered: “Roe Speremus.”

~*~

“Here we have our most dangerous wing: the criminally insane or as Mister Gilbert calls them, the crazies!” The woman before the Russian woman spoke cheerfully. Her incessant chirping had grown evermore irritating as Sonya’s tour wore on, and she could feel her composure being thoroughly tested, though remained cordial. Now dressed in the prison guard uniform of black pants, an equally dark turtleneck, a grey vest adorned with the demarcations of one’s rank and station, and finally a firearm strapped to one’s waist and another on the right side of the vest, the redheaded woman looked entirely the part of a Republic guard. Her rust coloured hair was left loose and the feeling of it being removed from its typically ponytail was a strange thing. Nevertheless, her identically garbed tour guide has suggested that such was wiser, for if any prisoners grabbed a hold of loose hair, they would have a much more difficult time of wrenching her backward had they grabbed a ponytail. The wavy locks fell to just below her scapulae or should blades and swished back and forth with each step. Having found the movement somewhat annoying, though much less than her guide, Sonya ignored the foreign feeling and continued onward as her fellow guard stopped them before a black, windowless door. Clasped over the door were a series of three locks with varying means of unlocking them. The first was the simplest: a mere swipe of a cue card. A small light on the unobtrusive structure of the card reader turned green with such and the joyful woman continued to the second feature. The second security feature, that being a fingerprint scanner, was a piece of clear plastic embedded with a microchip, and the woman placed her thumb upon such. Another small green light appeared on the transparent surface and she continued to the last lock: a retina scanner. Standing before the solid piece of grey metal, it scanned her eye and beeped as well, another green light activating. With such, the door buzzed as locks were unclasped and she slowly pulled the evidently heavy door open. “Alright, Sonya, be careful,” the woman spoke in a singsong voice, and the aforementioned Russian young adult cringed inwardly at the woman’s infernal happiness.

The hallway itself was incredibly dark, and Sonya could only barely make out what appeared to be six foot wide sections of horizontal bars separated with thick walls a foot wide. Stepping into the darkness, the hollow sound of metal under foot could be heard, followed by the hurried footsteps of her guide. Jacklyn Lee, as she had revealed herself before as, was a slight woman hailing from China, a rarity in Neo-Palmyra, as most of the eastern Trans-Pacific Republic nations had been largely absent in the movement to the island following its development by the Laevan Foundation years ago. “Watch your step, there’s stairs ahead,” Jacklyn cautioned her, though Sonya only ignored her and descended the slatted, iron steps and entered the dank hall of cells. “You don’t need to worry about them seeing us, there’s a film on the exteriors of each cell that lets them see what we want them to see; even if we mostly always have it turned off. Whenever we need to walk through, we turn it on to make sure they can’t see us.” Casting her grey gaze back to the woman, Sonya quirked an auburn brow, silently questioning why such was necessary. “Well if we let them hear and see us, they’d know we were caring for them, silly!” She giggled lightly. “We can’t have them knowing how we feed and clean the cells.”

“Clean the cells?” The Russian woman questioned and cast her gaze into the cell next to her. Inside was a young man looking to be from Australia. He laid upon a filthy cot and in the corner was a pile of human feces. Thankful that the films kept smells in too, Sonya nevertheless felt bile rise in her throat. Such things were not entirely unknown to her, as some of the poorest in Polyarny did not have functioning septic pipes, for many had decayed beyond use following decades of infrastructural neglect, but nevertheless it was a foul sight regardless. Turning her head, she saw a mirrored situation in the opposite cell and the ones next to them as they continued forth. Ever cell was the same: a miserable husk of a person laid upon a filthy cot, sat up against the wall, or was sprawled against the floor, and was forced to endure the filthy nature of their cell. The redheaded woman felt pity for them, and made a mental note to free as many prisoners as possible when the time came, regardless of their potential danger. ‘Laevan’s probably made them into dangerous freaks with this treatment. I imagine they had just questioned him one too many times in public,’ she mused glibly, her grey gaze narrowing on the sights before her. It was an enraging thing to see, for although the invention of indoor plumbing was a nigh ancient thing now, it had been abjectly ignored for what she suspected were less than noble reasons. “Why don’t they have toilets?” She looked to Jacklyn, though the woman could not come up with an immediate answer, or so Sonya assumed for her confused look.

Pausing at a random cell, the chipper woman furrowed her brow in thought before snapping her fingers and turning to Sonya. “It’s to demoralise them, of course!” Jacklyn spoke the dread truth in the happiest of tones. Repressing any anger for the injustice in her heart, the Russian woman merely nodded once, and her counterpart seemed content to elaborate. “These people are crazy, after all. If we’re too nice to them, they’ll get all riled up and do something crazy. We can’t have that now can we?” Though she looked off to the side abruptly, and hushed words could be heard from her earpiece, which was little more than a piece of black plastic in her ear canal. Nodding once, she placed two fingers on her ear and spoke “I understand Mister Harding; I’ll be there right away.” Looking to Sonya, she patted her on the shoulder as though she was about to deliver grave news. “I’m sorry, Sonya! I need to go for a moment. Someone in the violent criminals’ block is trying to kill a fellow inmate. We can’t have that now can we?” With that, she jogged down the hall from whence they came, leaving Sonya all alone in the hall of dangerous criminals.

“… Well then,” the auburn haired woman spoke to herself. Turning to examine the squalor of the cell they had stopped at, she peered in through the film that kept her presence unknown. This prisoner was unlike the others through, where the others laid about or merely sat in corners waiting for death, he laboured against the drug addled food’s effects in push ups. Wavy, light brown hair was matted down with grease and small pieces of debris were held in these filthy locks, and it had evidently grown past where it ought to be, for it gave him a shaggy appearance. Having removed his jumpsuit down to his waist, Sonya idly noticed that, though the unsubstantial food and poor living conditions had emaciated him, he still held muscle on his bone. Unsure as to if such was the product of his seemingly rigorous exercise regime or if he had merely arrived recently, she silently commended him. His skin, looking to be once the tan colours of one descended from the Mediterranean, had discoloured from illness, and given the profuse amount of sweat falling from mere push ups, she suspected the young man had developed a rather unpleasant sickness. She looked to the nearby panel that opened the cell, and read the name on it: “Stephan Tharros, hm?” Looking back to the figure who could neither see nor hear her, she allowed herself a small smile. He reminded her of Ludwig in his strength of will. “I’m impressed, Mister Tharros.”

Having learned early on that the food given to prisoners was laced with heavy sedatives that dulled both mind and body, Sonya found it quite remarkable the young man named Stephan was capable of exercise, and of such intensity that he could stave off emaciation, if slightly. Deciding to merely wait for her guide to return, she canted her gaze across the way, and found a much more peculiar sight. An older woman sat against the frame of her cot and her mouth moved as though she spoke. Coming closer, Sonya stared into the cell to find what she readily considered a madwoman. Activating the screen on the control panel for her cell, the Russian guard enabled the audio function and the inane babble roared in. “Have you heard of my ferret? His name is Jackles and he’s mommy’s favourite and only child! Oh yes she loves her Jackles very much!” Muting the audio once more, Sonya shook her head at the absurd insanity of the woman and returned her gaze to the young man who had collapsed downward while she had her back turned. Placing his arms at his sides, they trembled and finally fell as he failed to raise himself off the ground. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath, and Sonya stepped over to his cell, unsure what to do. Her hand hovered over the controls and she looked back to the near hyperventilating youth, though her concerns were interrupted as the creak of the metal door through which she had entered sounded loudly.    

Jacklyn descended the metal steps in a hurry and jogged over to Sonya’s location, her dark eyes filled with ever inappropriate cheer and glee. “Well that was a mess, luckily the boys have it covered!” She laughed lightly, shaking her head, “You’ll meet them soon enough I’m sure. See, we guard the crazies, but they guard the violent ones.” The Russian woman’s gaze deviated for a moment to the young man who laid on the floor, still failing to raise himself. “Oh, is he at it again?” Jacklyn quirked a plucked brow and stepped around her counterpart and tapped the small screen attached to the bars. A few deft taps were made on the screen and she motioned for Sonya to observe. “You see, sometimes prisoners try to kill themselves. It’s a strange thing, but this one isn’t trying to kill himself. The tranquilisers in their food keeps them quite harmless, but over exertion is deadly in large doses.” With a few more taps on the small screen, she activated what was labeled as the ‘Sedative Command.’ With one tap, the prisoner named Stephan crumpled downward and lay still. “Good as new! He’ll wake up and be back to normal.” Nodding to Sonya, she motioned for them to continue walking. “Come on, let’s go visit the medical wing. You’ll be stationed there when you’re not here. They always need more guards ever since…” Though her words fell on deaf ears as the redheaded woman’s gaze held to the still form of the young man.

 Something about the young man struck her as strangely familiar, as though she had seen him once before. Jacklyn continued talking, and Sonya continued ignoring her as she tried to recall where she had seen Stephan Tharros before. The two continued down the dark hall of cells, and she noted the same sight as she had seen when they entered: cells of miserable, broken men and women who merely awaited death. The sight was a pathetic one and Sonya’s embittered heart could not find empathy for them, but merely pity. She pitied them for that they had not been as strong as the young man who had not yet given up and affirmed to herself that she would free the strong prisoner as soon as she could. “Jacklyn, how long has that boy been here for?” She inquired casually and her counterpart left forth a loud ‘hm’ as she thought to herself. “I ask since he seems rather strong willed for one of these kinds of prisoners.” Canting her head to the last cells they walked by, Sonya lied smoothly: “He needs to be broken if you ask me.” Jacklyn nodded once in agreement.

“Oh I’m so glad you see it that way,” the more experienced guard nodded repeatedly, “He definitely needs to be calmed down a little. If one of the other prisoners saw him like that, it’d make for a horrible mess.” The two ascended another set of metal stairs, the loud echo of their boots drowning out Jacklyn’s insincere kindness. Standing before another one of the high security doors they had entered in, the guide gestured for Sonya to step forward. “Here, you try the door, get you used to them so you don’t get stuck in here with the crazies.” Ushered to the door, the Russian woman procured her own security guard marked with her own picture and the black phoenix emblem of the Republic next to it and was obscured by a barcode, the demarcation of her military rank, and name. Swiping the card down the scanner, the small machine beeped and a green light was lit. Followed by the same procedure for the retina scanner and thumbprint identifier the door buzzed loudly and she pushed it open. Temporarily blinded by the brightly lit hall that began on a corner from the cell block, Sonya held a hand over her eyes, her pupils struggling to cope with the sudden and obtuse lighting. “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. The lights are really bright so that, any prisoners who get through are stunned by the light for just long enough for us to stop them.” Winking slyly at the tall redhead, she continued her thought: “Clever, right?”

 Sonya kept her composure, and merely nodded: “Oh yes, very clever.” She knew that her undercover work would be a trying endeavour.

~*~

Roe’s legs were sluggish and the act of walking was a foreign thing to him, though nevertheless he struggled forth with an uneasy gait and an unwavering look of determination. Garbed in an azure rendition of the Subject attire, he was closely escorted by two prison guards, donning the black uniforms that he had grown to loath greatly, for it was they who so infuriatingly denied him his freedom. For a moment, he was reminded of the robed figure of his dreams who had raised the scales of justice high before him. The tortured Subject could nearly feel the condemnation of the righteous figure stare down at him coldly, scolding him for his weakness and inability to escape his shackles. ‘I must be patient,’ he instructed himself, ‘They have Stephan. If I am not careful, they will use him as a hostage against me.’ Casting his gaze forward down the seemingly endless stale, white hall, his mind turned glib: ‘They have already used him against me. I know he is still here and any efforts I made to rescue him would be fraught with peril.’ Days had turned into months uncounted for Roe Speremus as he was made to suffer torturous experiments without repose. Where NELO had seen his body suffer, Laevan’s pawns had seen him face the horrors of what might be unleashed through his mind. Memories implanted of the Subject slaughtering those he held dear haunted his subconscious, and on the rare occasion he had seen his eyes, he saw the haunted look of a man who had endured much agony. It was a pathetic thing to see in himself: he was better than the average man, for he was smarter, faster, stronger, and so on. He had last seen his extroverted counterpart when he had nearly throttled Stephan to death, and the memory haunted him terribly. The leading man in the experimentations, who had been reputed to be none other than Galvin Laevan, sought to use the unique brain chemistry of a Subject against himself.

For, when in artificial utero, a Subject is given artificial supplements of brain chemicals to further the developmental stages that might be otherwise compromised, and in doing so required a means to control the influx of stuff. Thus, in the second trimester of fetal development, Roe and indeed all Subjects, were implanted with a small biotechnological chip that controlled the flow of these chemicals. Following an average of three years post R.E.G.E.N development, the chip became largely obsolete, and was left in the brain, since removing it would be more dangerous than leaving it in. Though they had not revealed the details of how they accomplished the artificial control of his body, Roe suspected the chip had a great deal to do with it, especially since Doran Laevan’s predecessor was one of its developers in the DNARP founding days of eras past.  The chip controlled chemical motion however the ever astute Subject 17135244 believed that, given the proper secreted controls, it could alter the movement of tiny electrical charges through the neurotransmitters. Such could be thus then controlled by an exterior force, if the chip had a means of reception. It was a farfetched conclusion, however part of Roe believed it greatly, for, much to his own surprise, he found he admired and respected Stephan too much to ever consider harming him, let alone killing him.

Casting his gaze to the guards that partly dragged him by the arms, he noted the strange differences in them. Where the one on Roe’s left was disinterested and bored in his duties, the one on the right seemed entirely too interested in the blond man he hefted. Wavy black hair was set messily under one of the caps that the guards wore and his tall figure was well built for war, though it was his dark eyes that held a dangerous glee to them, as though the prospect of wherever they were going was an exciting one. Seeing that he had been stared at, the guard smirked slightly, “You’re a lot livelier than I was led to believe.” The first guard’s gaze snapped to his counterpart, though the latter merely shrugged, “Well it’s not like talking to him is against the rules. Only letting him go is.” Returning his gaze to Roe, the tall man’s eyes glinted mischievously and he spoke anew: “You must be quite popular for the audience you’ll be getting. I’m a little jealous, myself.” Falling silent, the Subject was left to wonder who it was that he would be meeting and, more importantly, what they desired to do with him. The three stopped before a set of large, medicinal-looking doors. The first guard released Roe and stepped forward, removing a black glove and pressing his thumb against a scanner that was attached to the door. The glass outcropping beeped quietly and the man pushed one of the doors opened and the second guard ushered the weary Subject through.

Through the doors they were presented with a much wider room: the far wall was made of glass and in the adjoining room Roe saw men, women and children garbed as Subjects engaged in various activities. Some watched television, others read, and two played chess in the corner. Through a cursory glance the blond man was able to count roughly fifteen people who seemed completely oblivious to they in the adjoining room. Though it was not the Subjects in the other room that brought the cold eyes of Roe to grow wide with shock, it was instead a person he had long thought dead seated next to a peculiar machination of a chair. Seated in a sleek metal chair, her once radiant blonde hair had dulled and was held in a loose ponytail that rested on her shoulder. She donned a pair of grey dress pants and a crimson blouse underneath a thigh length lab coat emblazoned with the insignia of the Trans-Pacific Republic as were many objects and others in the room. Her eyes, a similar colour to those of the deep ocean, were hollow with horror and it took her a long moment to actually recognise the young man who now stood, unimpeded, across from her. His guards stepped back at the provocation of another, older man who stood a distance away and Natalie Bellerose stood from her seat, her sad eyes brightening. “Roe…?” She spoke tentatively, “Oh god, my little Roe, you’re alive!” The clack of her heels echoed noisily as she hurried to him, and wrapped her arms around the Subject. Surprise took the emotionally tampered Roe who merely stood there, unsure of what to do. It was then that he was reminded of when he and Stephan had traversed the ruins of Siochana and happened upon the destroyed school.

Surmising it would be the right thing to do, he tentatively wrapped his arms around the first person he had ever cared for, and found his arms compressing her into himself. Mother Natalie gladly returned the gesture, holding him ever tighter. He could feel the warm wetness of her tears on his shoulder and it was then that Roe felt a truly foreign feeling: he was smiling. “Mother…” He spoke slowly, “I had thought you dead from what I saw on the news…” He said quietly. Silence fell over the two, though neither seemed capable of letting the other one go. It was an unfamiliar and strange warmth that grew in his chest as he held the woman the Subjects called mother, however he found it comforting, and it seemed to eat away at the horrors that haunted his mind so often. “I am very glad you are alive, Mother.” His words were foreign to himself, and although they were spoken with the same composure he always held, she immediately understood the gravity of him saying such. Releasing him and placing her hands on the sides of his upper arms, she smiled brightly, her tears stilled. Though it was then that his own joy failed him and logic ruled his mind once more. Separating the two of them, he stared at the woman, his cold azure gaze suspicious: “Mother, why are you here?” Heavy silence fell over the room as she failed to answer, her gaze averted the Subject and a look of something akin to shame laden upon her slender features. Once happiness had filled her eyes, and as quickly as it had come, he tore it from her. Cursing himself for his passive cruelty, he too fell silent, his visage impassively hiding his inner shame. ‘I am no better than Laevan. I cannot give people happiness. I can only take it away.’ His brows knit ever so slightly at the realisation of such, ‘I am little more than a weapon.’

It was the older man who broke the silence. Also garbed in a lab coat the reached the floor, he wore a pair of baggy black dress pants and a grey dress shirt. The label of is coat held the sigil of the Laevan Foundation, a rose focused by magnifying glass. More interestingly, the sigil was surrounded by a concentric circle of DNA. Such a unique sign was indicative of the office of the Chairman of the Laevan Foundation. Given such, Roe surmised the man was none other than the reclusive Galvin Laevan, elder brother to the Prime Chancellor Doran Laevan. “Touching,” the elder Laevan drawled as he slowly approached the two, “But I am afraid the hateful look you are giving her is an undue one.” The man was as tall as the guard who had spoken to the Subject previously, who now stood a distance back, his expression unknown. “My foolish brother decided that the destruction of NELO was not enough and is intent upon humiliating the Mother of the Subjects as well.” Galvin Laevan seemed, to the dead eyed Subject, a form of Doran Laevan bereft of the ego that saw him oversee so many horrible acts. His voice was monotone and glib, and he spoke with a condescending tone overlaying all. “She has unique knowledge in the Subjects and my brother has so graciously asked for my aid in his project.” Signalling for Roe’s escort to move, the more talkative guard grasped him by the arms and nodded once. “Alas, his project requires unique brain chemistry available in roughly 0.8% of the Subject population. From this group it takes a certain mentality, a strength of mind, if you will, to undertake this project…”

“You see I am not beyond more baser forms of coercion,” Galvin explained boredly, “And I must know if my theories are correct. Insofar as validating my desires…” The man trailed off then snapped his fingers loudly. The silent guard stepped forward into Roe’s line of sight and from his hip drew a hand gun, aiming it at Natalie. The woman paled and Roe surged forward, tearing himself from the raven haired man’s grasp. “Not so fast, lad,” Galvin spoke and looked to the guard who had raised his gun. The silent guard loaded the weapon with a metallic click and aimed it at Natalie’s head. Roe could find no words, and though he held little more than a slight gasp on his face, his mind was running: ‘Mother is in danger. They’ll kill Mother. I… can’t let that happen.’ He slowly relaxed his stance, and the tall guard grasped him once more. “Better. Now, I’ll make this quite clear, boy.” The elder Laevan brother moved and stood before Roe. “You will aid me, or she will die.” Turning around, he spoke clearly: “On.” A screen appeared in the glass wall and a video feed sputtered into existence. Seated in a dank and filthy cell was the sad remnant of Stephan: emaciated and sickly, he sat slumped against a disgusting cot and a young soldier stood to the side, another neuro-toxic handguns held and pointed at his friend. ‘No,’ the word echoed in the Subject’s mind as he looked upon the screen, ‘They can’t endanger them both.’

Dread filled his mind as he slumped against the grip of his captor. Roe knew what he had to do, and it would take a great deal over overridden pride to see it through coupled with trust in those he could not trust. Looking to Galvin Laevan, and unlike what he would expect from the man’s younger brother, he looked neither smug nor pleased with the situation at hand and kept a neutral visage, much akin to the captive Subject’s. “You have captured those whom I hold most dear,” the words came out calmly, though in his mind countless impossible plans were created and discarded with each passing moment. He could wrest his way free of the large man and incapacitate him, but in the time such would take, possibly both Stephan and Mother could be slain. Even just one was unthinkable, and so he considered launching himself at the elder Laevan and killing him to dissuade the guards. Nevertheless, the same problem presented itself without repose. “What would you have me do, Doctor Laevan?” Wordlessly the man motioned to the strange chair that was erected before a large console that was set against the glass wall. The chair itself was much wider than the others placed before lesser terminals, and moreover it held various medical examination strips that one would apply to the body to observe life signs. Coupled with a what appeared to be a peculiar visor set before the chair, the design was entirely foreign to the learned Subject.

“Don’t do it, Roe!” Mother spoke frantically, and the unspeaking guard pressed the gun against her head. However she was beyond such fears and continued speaking, “You don’t know what they want you to do!” However Roe ignored her, much to his own displeasure, and strode toward the chair slowly, the footfalls of his bare feet quiet. Galvin Laevan followed closely, his dead eyes focused keenly upon the Subject as he took a seat in the chair. The chair had a stiff back and the blond man was reminded of his time at NELO, seated in uncomfortable positions as he had obstinately refused to complain over such things following semi-conscious, invasive experimental surgery. Such seemed like a lifetime ago now; a distant memory of times when lives were not balanced callously against his decisions. ‘I have to do this,’ Roe affirmed to himself, ‘If I don’t, Stephan and Mother will die.’ His mind was filled with the horrific memory of the corpses of innocence in Siochana and he visibly cringed at the memory, suddenly feeling as though his emotional barriers had been weakened greatly following his sitting in the chair. ‘I won’t let anyone else die because I did not move quickly.’ In truth, he blamed himself for the deaths of Siochana, for he knew that Laevan would have moved on Neo-Palmyra sooner or later and, given the presence of a resistance group, he was given full license to make an example out of them. ‘No one else must die because of me…’

Galvin Laevan looked to his guards, then to Natalie. “Doctor Bellerose, please take your place at the terminal. We will begin as soon as the Phoenix Cloud is fully operational.” Roe canted his gaze to the man, a brow raised inquisitively. The old man shrugged lightly, “My foolish brother decided that, given the black phoenix on the flag, this aspect of the project should be given a motif of rebirth, as that is – Hm, you will see.” The man cut himself off mid-sentence, and took a seat at a nearby terminal. “You two,” he looked to the guards, “Make sure Doctor Bellerose does not do anything questionable. If she does, use your best discretion.” The two nodded, though the guard who had engaged Roe in conversation held the blond’s gaze for a long moment, and the Subject could almost see a point of sorrow for him behind the perpetual glee in his eyes before he parted their stare and moved to watch Mother Natalie. “Roe, is it not?” Galvin turned his chair to face him, and the blond man nodded. “Amusing. Your ‘Mother’ has a strange sense of humor.” His cryptic words were lost on the man who prided himself for his intelligence, and seeing such, the older man waved a dismissive hand. “Unimportant. Roe, you will attach to yourself the sensors and then equip the visor. It is placed over the eyes to avoid visual and vocal distraction. We will instruct you further then.” Placing the sensor pads on his exposed arms, one on each temple and finally one on the base of the back of his skull, the captive Subject placed the visor over his eyes.

The visor itself covered his ears as well and the entire world became silent to Roe. It was a comforting silence, something he had been without for some time, given the invasive nature of his captivity. Exhaling a breath slowly, he relaxed against the stiff-backed chair and sat completely still, his mind acclimating easily to being stripped of two senses. Having had many frightening experiences as a boy where he was blinded or made deaf with drugs, doing such voluntarily and with warning was not a worrying experience. So removed from the physical was Roe that he did not even notice the straps drawn about his wrists as a point of green could be seen in the distance. However it was not in the visor he saw such, but in his mind’s eye, the astute man discerned. Words echoed in his mind, foreign and not of his own person: ‘Phoenix Cloud activated. May the Ragnarok Project grant the world new hope and prosperity.’ The word Ragnarok was a worrying one to the stationary man who knew the tale of Ragnarok. It was Norse mythology detailing the fall of great gods such as Odin and Thor, which was then followed by the flooding of the world, the resurfacing of a fertile land where the remaining gods would meet and the scarce survivors of humanity would repopulate the world in perfection. A faint buzzing came to life for a moment, though faded away and words replaced it once more, spoken in his voice: ‘Do you see the green light? Reach for it with your mind, it will save the ones you love.’

Something in the voice seemed to assure him such was the case, and he focused his powerful mind on the tiny dot of light, and it grew exponentially. As it did, a splitting headache engulfed his mind and he groaned in pain, his hands thrashing against their restraints. Surreal and detached, Roe could not feel the pain, but knew it to be present and merely observed it as one might observe an ant struggling with missing limbs. ‘Focus on the light, it will tell you all you wish to know and more, Roe,’ his own voice promised him, and the Subject eagerly returned his attention to it. He could scarcely feel a warm liquid fall from his nose and pass onto his lips, though it was also ignored as he struggled to keep his focus. The green light expanded further and became more detailed, somehow passing into being knowledge. He knew of what the Phoenix Cloud could do and the power within. It was as he had suspected, and the voice agreed with him, ‘Yes, Roe. You will change everything.’

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