A Change Of Mind

By Edward M. Erdelac - 

Considine said nothing as the guards led him from the gyrolift to Morgenstar’s clinic, but inwardly, he cursed Kes and himself for putting all his trust in the man.

The clinic was as impressive as the rest of Morgenstar. This was no dispensary with a bored nurse standing by with bottles of aspirin and medical tape. It was a full service facility, and he felt the pit of his stomach shudder at the sight of the cold metal examination table.

“I’ve got to take a leak,” one of the faceless guards announced to the other suddenly.

“What? Now?” exclaimed the other.

“Got to. I’ve been holding it since we nabbed this one. Stay here and wait for the nurse.”

“Hurry up.”

The first guard left, but Considine’s thoughts of overpowering the other man vanished when the guard put himself in the corner and angled his three barreled hyperuzi so it would deliver a cone of fire that would redecorate the entire room. This was no moonlighting Enforcer working toward PC pension. Morgenstar could afford to hire professionals.

Considine glanced around, trying to think of some way out, when the door hissed open and a nebbish looking bald man all in white entered.

“How come there’s only one of you?” the nurse asked warily, stopping in the middle of the room.

“My partner’s taking a leak. Wanna wait for him?”

“I don’t have time for this,” the nurse snapped, annoyed. “I’m supposed to be on deck one-eighty-three in twenty minutes for a bounceball date.”

He crossed the room and went to one of the metal cabinets, sliding his hand across the identification padlock and swinging it open.

“You’re gonna have to hold him,” the nurse said over his shoulder, snapping on a pair of tight gloves.

“Just scramble his brain,” the guard grumbled, “and get it over with.”

“I’ve got to sedate him first,” the nurse said, turning around with a gun-like inoculator and screwing in a small bottle of clear fluid.

The guard sighed behind Considine, and he heard the clatter of his hyperuzi being slung over his shoulder by the strap.

The nurse stepped forward with the inoculator, and the guard’s boots squeaked on the floor.

“Damn it,” hissed the nurse. “Just a minute.”

He set the inoculator on the table and turned back to the cabinet.

Considine snatched it up and spun as the guard’s fingers brushed his elbows. He jammed the inoculator under the man’s unprotected chin and squeezed.

There was a metallic punching sound and the guard stumbled back, gurgling.

Considine reached out and caught the hyperuzi as it slipped off the man’s shoulder.

He trained it on the guard, but the man just crumpled in the corner.

He turned to the nurse, who was standing with his back to the cabinet now, hands up, fingers splayed, eyes wide.

He tossed the inoculator to him. The man fumbled, barely catching it.

“Ready another dose of the same, if you please. Quickly.”

The nurse rummaged in the cabinet. Several bottles tumbled from the shelf and tinkled across the floor.

Considine stood sideways, ready to pepper the doorway should the second guard appear, or fire on the nurse should he try something stupid.

The nurse held the loaded inoculator.

“Butt first,” said Considine, holding out his hand. He heard boots squeaking in the hall.

The nurse handed him the inoculator and backed away.

Considine made a shushing gesture and put his back to the wall beside the doorway.

It hissed open a moment later and the second guard stepped inside.

Considine pressed the barrel of the inoculator to the side of his neck and soon he was face first on the floor.

“Now,” said Considine to the nurse. “Which way to the corporate hangar?”

“Three floors up,” stammered the nurse. “But you can’t get to it. The lift won’t work for you without an executive or pilot ID.”

Considine stooped and plucked an ID card off the fallen guard’s belt, frowning at it.

“What about security?”

“They can go anywhere,” the nurse admitted.

Considine nodded and tossed the inoculator to the nurse again.

“One more dose,” he commanded. “’Fraid you’re going to miss your bounceball date.”

The nurse sighed heavily and went into the cabinet again.

Expedition

by Jeff C. Carter

Barney didn’t bother taking out his badge as he entered the Avenir morgue.  In his experience, coroners were always happy to talk to someone.  A skinny man with long black hair sat on the examination table, his mouth agape, eyes hidden beneath a pair of electronic goggles.  Barney coughed twice to announce his presence before finally jostling the man by the shoulder.

The skinny man swatted away Barney’s hand and grunted. “I’m working!”

Barney fished out his badge and leaned in to the man’s ear.  “Me too.  I’m looking for some missing persons.”

The skinny man slid the goggles up and eyed the badge before sliding off the table. “Grady Wilkyn, Medical Examiner.  Pleased to meet you.  Don’t get a lot of enforcers down here.”

“I’m looking for two missing doctors from St. Christina’s Clinic.”

Grady grabbed a control pad and scrolled through data on a large screen.  “Missing, huh?  We haven’t had any unclaimed bodies.  Not since the riot,” Grady said.

An old disposal tech rolled in a gurney holding a cadaver. “Got a fresh one,” the old man said.

“Give me a hand here, officer,” Grady said.  He tossed a pair of sanitation gloves to Barney.  He grabbed the dead body by the ankles and indicated the examination table with a nod of his chin.

Barney reluctantly hooked his hands under the corpse’s armpits.  They set the body down on the table and the old man shuffled away with a wave. 

Barney had seen dead bodies before.  They never ceased to bother him.  He saw them as tangles of unanswered questions. “I just need to confirm that the missing doctors aren’t here, then I’ll leave you to your work,” Barney said.

“Sorry Officer, this takes priority.  Avenir is a closed environment.  No bio-hazards allowed.  Every cadaver gets an immediate and complete autopsy.  Watch your toes,” Grady said.

The examination table sank into the ground and vanished beneath a heavy lid.  The medical examiner pecked a few buttons on his control panel and a deep rumble shook the ground beneath Barney’s feet. 

Grady snapped off his gloves and turned back to his computer. “Alright, when did you lose your doctors?”

Barney looked down at the floor and then up at Grady.  “I thought you had to perform an autopsy,” Barney said.

“I just did.  Don’t they teach enforcers what the medical examiner does?”

Barney blushed. “It’s been a while.  I met Mr. Neils a few times.”

Grady scratched his head and then smiled.  “Oh yeah, he ran this place way back.  Things have changed.  The body is on its way to the disposal queue.  If there are any next of kin the computer has notified them.”

“And the autopsy?”Barney prompted.

The medical examiner handed Barney a pair of electronic goggles.  “See for yourself.”

Swordplay

by Jeff C. Carter

Councilman Moab placed a sheet over two bodies.  The third, a bloody man in a hospital gown, he left exposed.

Lancet held a gel pack to his bruised face and neck. “Is it over?”
 

“My men haven’t reported any other attacks.  We’ll have to review the vids and body counts before we know for sure,” Moab sighed.  “Two good men, dead for nothing.  What a waste.”

“And my family’s koto,” Lancet added.  He knelt down and picked through the wreckage of a shattered musical instrument on the floor of his chamber.

“Let me see the telemetry from your sword,” Moab said.

Lancet stood and slipped off a black silk sash, a priceless creation from the nanoforges of Avenir.  It snapped into the shape of a long blade.  Lancet turned it downward and a crisp holographic display mushroomed up from the butt of the sword’s handle.

In the floating movie, a scaled down version of Lancet darted down a hallway and severed an attacker’s arm. “Notice how he felt no pain,” Lancet said. The other man continued to lunge and swing.  A blur of information speckled the hologram as facial recognition software and DNA analysis overlapped.

A file photo of the man appeared along with his I.D. and personal history. “This says he was a patient at St. Christina’s Clinic for the Neuro-Atypical,” Lancet read. With a twist of the sword’s grip the playback streaked forward through Lancet’s other battles, completing a grid of I.D. photos in the air. 

“All from the clinic,” Lancet said.

“Do you think it was some kind of mass psychosis?” Moab wondered.

Lancet pulled his shirt taut, revealing a bloody handprint with smeared fingers that the killer had imprinted there. “No.  They seemed too orchestrated.  They rallied around this symbol.  The mark of Rahab.”

Moab nodded. “I saw that on the walls.  They had a battle cry, too.  ‘Rahab is death’.  It seems too organized to be psychosis but too sloppy for proper terrorism.  Perhaps they belonged to a cult?”  

Lancet pulled the sword to his chest and it slithered back into a sash and fastened around his ribs.  He walked over to the uncovered body. “This one claimed to have been a former servant of mine.  He had just killed my guard when your man arrived and put a round in the back of his head.  I thought it was over, but somehow he managed to get back up and kill your man, too.”

Moab rolled the body over with his boot and peered into the deep gunshot wound. “It sounds like he was unstoppable.  So then…why did he stop?”

Lancet grinned. “His old control chip kicked in.  A servant cannot kill his master.”

Moab walked to the transparent wall and peered into space. “What a senseless act.  And two good men, dead.  What a waste,” Moab sighed. He looked down at the broken instrument at their feet. “And your koto as well, of course. I know you wanted to pass that on to your heirs.”

Lancet scowled down at the barren, hostile planet below. “The only thing I want to give my heirs is a world worth having.”

Opportunity

by Jeff C. Carter -

Nosey ran through the hall ways of Avenir singing and screaming and crying tears of joy.  She had never felt so free from fear or guilt or obligation.  She painted the walls, marking them as she explored the wide open spaces outside St. Christina’s Clinic.

She heard shouting up ahead and saw a bloody handprint on the wall.  The mark of Rahab.  She sprinted around the corner and found herself in an enormous ball room with a high vaulted ceiling.  On any other day she would have shriveled in panic to find herself in such a large space, but not today.  With Rahab working through her she was fearless.

Her little friend Bruzzy was nearby, clinging onto a rich lady’s back and roaring into her ear.

“Rahab is death!”

He sank his small teeth into her neck.

Nosey giggled and snatched a broken bottle from the floor.  Sweat and blood flew from her hair and hospital gown as she danced and whirled, painting people red like roses and sunsets and fire. 

A sound like a dozen corks popping echoed off the ceiling.  Bruzzy and the rich lady both fell down in the most gorgeous spray of scarlet and cherry red. 

“Stand down!”

A big fancy old man with gray hair and a mustache swung a pistol towards her.  He was surrounded by piles of bodies, some in hospital gowns, and some in satin and lace. 

“I just want to help you, Mister.  Once I open you up you can feel the wide open space!” Nosey whined.

The big fancy man pulled the trigger but nothing happened.  He cursed. 

Nosey giggled.  She darted forward, the bottle in her hand shining crystal green and crimson.

The big fancy man pulled a glass off a table and splashed its bronze liquid into her face.  Eyes stinging, Nosey slashed at the air blindly.  No fair!  She wanted to see what was inside of him! 

The big fancy man slapped her to the ground with a meaty hand.  Nosey rolled over and rubbed her eyes.   There was a shiny blur in the big fancy man’s hand, and when it opened it produced a beautiful red glow.

“Rahab…” Nosey squealed.

The big fancy man dropped the lighter onto the girl and she was instantly wrapped in flames. 

“Councilman Moab, you’re alive.”

The big fancy man turned from the fire to see Lancet Palmar VIII panting in the doorway, holding a bloody sword.

“You’re here.  Good.  What do we know?” the big fancy man asked.

“Too soon to say for sure.  Terrorists, perhaps?” Lancet said.

“Perhaps.  Any idea who or what this ‘Rahab’ might be?”

Their faces were both illuminated by the crackling flames.

“Yes,” Lancet said, “an opportunity.”

Revelation

by Jeff C. Carter -

It was too quiet. Nurse Vuong had long ago grown accustomed to the constant tapping and rambling of the patients at St. Christina’s Clinic for the Neuro-Atypical, even the occasional outburst of profanity or violence. For the past two weeks her job had never been easier. The inmates had all been model patients, but that didn’t stop her intuition from screaming that something was wrong. Something terrible was about to happen.

She leaned over her monitor and scrolled through the timeline of the art therapy wall. Red handprints crawled up and swarmed over every inch of white surface. No matter how many times she had deleted the giant touch screen the patients had recreated the same pattern. They were still at it now, reverently smearing digital splashes of crimson across the large surface. Nurse Vuong punched the controls and deactivated the wall, wiping it black and clean.

“We regret to inform you that the art therapy wall is out of order,” she said over the intercom.

The patients drifted away, returning to their rooms or sitting quietly on the Rec Room floor.

Maybe she should call Dr. Loomis and tell him…what? That the patients were too well behaved? Dr. Lev was already well aware. He had been at the clinic all week and seemed delighted with the patients’ progress.

Nurse Vuong rubbed her eyes. She had been on high alert for days now and she was exhausted. She lowered the lights in the Rec Room.

“It’s time for bed, ladies and gentlemen. Have a good night.” She announced.

The patients shuffled to their small rooms in an orderly fashion. Nurse Vuong shivered. She decided to go to her own quarters and try to forget this place for a while.

The clinic was dark and quiet and still.

The vid wall flickered to life, casting its pale light into the Rec Room and onto Dr. Lev. He stood before the projected image of a dark skinned man.

“Dr. Singh, thank you for joining us again,” Dr. Lev said.

Dr. Singh nodded nervously on the large screen.

The patients slipped back into the Rec Room and gathered in front of the vid wall.

“Dr. Singh, will you tell us again about your experience under the ocean? About your vision?” Dr. Lev prompted.

Dr. Singh swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Yes, of course. I feel like it is my duty to share it.”

The patients stared up at the large face, waiting.

“I saw the oceans boil. Everything in the water died. There were tidal waves the size of mountains that erased everything from the face of the planet. The volcanoes all erupted at once, even places were there hadn’t been volcanoes…” he said.

Smudge, one of the bigger patients, began to rock back and forth excitedly.

“The sky was on fire!” Smudge shouted.

A small boy stood up and screamed.

“I can see it!” he said.

The patients all joined in, chanting along with Dr. Singh’s words.

“The planet began to crack. The ground shattered with a furious thunder! Steam hissed into the icy blackness in a vast dying breath.”

The patients jumped and thrashed under the pale light of the vid screen. Their collective madness strained against its leash, lashed into frenzy by visions of destruction and the malignant will watching behind their eyes.

Dr. Lev smiled. Something terrible was about to happen.

Metamorphoses

by Jeff C. Carter -

Nosey was trying to get Bruzzy to talk again. She had known the boy her entire life but he had only recently spoken his first words: “Rahab is death.” Now Bruzzy crouched on the floor, once again as silent as the grave. What had Dr. Lev done to the boy to get him to speak? And what did it mean? Bruzzy wasn’t telling.

“Do you know what the definition of insanity is?”

Nosey looked up and gasped when she saw Valljon towering over her.

“It’s trying the same thing twice and expecting a different result.” Valljon said.

His face flickered between a sneer and a smile, which was unbelievable because it usually held no expression at all. Valljon was the oldest patient at St. Christina’s Clinic for the Neuro-Atypical. The rumor was that he was turned into a servant for an aristocrat, but when they put the control chips in his brain something went wrong. He was little more than a vegetable after that, just a fixture of the Rec Room among the furniture.

“What happened to him? What happened to you?” Nosey gasped.

“The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out…,” Valljon chanted.

“…crawl into your stomach and out your mouth,” Bruzzy finished.

“Would you like to see for yourself?” Dr. Lev said.

Nosey scrambled backwards when she heard Dr. Lev’s voice.

“Leave me alone!”

Something caught Nosey’s ankle. It was Bruzzy’s hands.

“Come along now,” Dr. Lev chided.

Valljon hooked a hand under Nosey’s arm and yanked her painfully off the ground. His strength was incredible. Bruzzy latched his small fingers around her other arm. Dr. Lev opened the door to the medical ward.

Immediately Nosey’s terror increased as they entered the unfamiliar room. Her fear of open spaces careened with her current panic and she went limp. Her mind curled into a fetal position.

“That’s better. This will only take a moment.” Dr. Lev cooed.

Valljon pinned her face down on an examination table and lifted the hem of her flimsy gown. She felt cold air on the exposed skin of her back. Dr. Lev withdrew a long thick-gauge needle.

“This is like a spinal tap, but we’re not taking anything out. We’re just giving you a little gift,” he said.

The needle’s contents seemed to shine and bubble. Was it a drug? Dr. Lev walked around Nosey and she saw it up close. The thing in the needle undulated, its thin glistening body catching the harsh exam light on a thousand cilia and teeth.

The worms crawl in. The worms crawl out.

Nosey’s body tensed and she drew in her breath to scream.

Red Hand Prints

by Jeff C. Carter -

The wall shimmered and its calming pink pastels faded to a blank white slate. Art therapy was usually Nosey’s favorite activity but she couldn’t think about that right now. Not while Bruzzy was in the medical ward…with Dr. Lev.

Sweet innocent Bruzzy. He never bothered anyone, never said a word. Nosey and Bruzzy both grew up below deck on the Avenir, in its dank and lawless spaces. Nosey had done her best to take care of the mute boy, and in turn she found peace in his deep and steady silence.

When Nosey’s phobia began to get worse she took him with her into St. Christina’s Clinic for the Neuro-Atypical. Things were better here. Nosey was making progress. Bruzzy was safe from the torments of the cruel street urchins.

What did Dr. Lev want with Bruzzy, anyway? The boy needed help, but she didn’t trust Dr. Lev. He gravitated towards the most troubled cases, the dangerous ones that the staff and other patients avoided. Lately he’d been taking patients into the medical ward. When they came out they were always docile, but they weren’t better. There was something sinister behind their eyes.

Nurse Vuong made an announcement over the intercom. “Art therapy is now available for the next hour. Please line up at the vid wall.”

A crowd of patients shuffled out of their rooms and across the Rec Room towards the blank wall. Nosey gave a frustrated groan as she watched them line up. Soon the patients were all side by side, standing or crouching at their own area of canvas. Hands cycled through colors and fingers dragged virtual paint across the giant touch screen.

Soon a pattern of red squiggly lines and blotches spread out across the vid wall. Art therapy was usually a riot of color and clashing images. It was rare for anyone to collaborate or copy pictures. Tonight the crowd was quiet and organized, which was eerie for a group of crazy people.

The door clicked loudly behind Nosey and she jumped. Bruzzy had emerged from the medical ward. “Bruzzy!” Nosey squealed.

The small boy ignored her and walked straight to the vid wall. Nosey followed, repeating his name.
Bruzzy reached over a crouching girl and planted his hand against the wall. When the handprint shifted to match the same crimson shade as the others he dragged his fingers up into long wavy streaks. He lifted his fingers and repeated the stroke, this time making the lines flare out wider.

Nosey stared at the bloody hand print with its stretching cluster of fingers and realized it was some kind of squid. The squid/hand prints swarmed over the vid wall in a disturbing splattered frenzy.

“What in the world is this?” Nosey said.

“Rahab,” Bruzzy intoned.

Nosey’s jaw dropped. She had never heard the sound of his voice.

“W-what…,” Nosey stammered, “what is Rahab?”

“Rahab is death.”

A New Voice

by Jeff C. Carter -

Nosey put her small ear to the locked door that separated the patients from the staff.

“I didn’t know whether to kick him out or have him committed!”

Dr. Loomis’ normally breathy voice was now breathless. Nosey supposed he was still upset about the riot.

“I’m sure Dr. Singh didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Besides, no one was hurt.” Nurse Vuong said.

Her high-pitched, nasal voice penetrated the door easily. Nosey liked that about her. Of course, Nurse Vuong knew better than to badmouth a doctor. You never knew who might be listening.

“It’s a miracle no one was killed. I would have held Dr. Lev personally responsible. What was he thinking?” Dr. Loomis said.

Nosey imagined she could hear Nurse Vuong shrug. When it became clear that no more gossip was left, Nosey drifted down the hallway to the Rec Room.

It was a short trip. St. Christina’s Clinic for the Neuro-Atypical was small and dingy. Smudge said that the Rich Man’s Happy Bin was a zillion times bigger and everything was fancy and clean. Nosey wished this place wasn’t quite so dirty but she was glad it wasn’t very large. Open spaces terrified her. The miles of hallways circling Avenir. The maze of tunnels twisting above and below. The bottomless void outside the hull. She pressed her back against the padded wall and shivered.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Smudge screamed.

Nosey peeked around the corner and saw Smudge ripping the earphones off his head. He stomped on the soft foam head set, silencing the virtual therapist program. Nosey didn’t mind the VT unless it tried to counsel her while she was eavesdropping.

Dr. Lev walked down the hallway and gave Nosey an oily smile. His black eyes always held the threat of dark empty spaces. The thin doctor brushed by and her skin crawled.

The doctor approached Smudge.

“Are the voices in your head bothering you again?"

Smudge didn’t look up, he just kept picking at the thin layers of spray-skin that covered his self inflicted wounds.

“Did you enjoy the speech by our guest, Dr. Kwame Singh?” Dr. Lev tried again.

Smudge perked up.

“Seas boiling. Volcanoes exploding. Boom!” Smudge whooped.

Dr. Lev smiled.

“That’s right, very good. Would you like to hear more?”

Smudge clutched his thin, grubby smock and nodded emphatically.

“Very good. Come with me please.”

Dr. Lev led the excited patient to the entrance of the medical ward. The heavy locks clicked loudly and the door slid open.

Nosey inched forward to watch them go. She heard Dr. Lev say one last thing before the solid door slid shut.

“We’re going to put a new voice in your head.”