Read Online Infernal Sky by Dafydd Ab Hugh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dafydd Ab Hugh
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could probably thank the Scythe of Glory and their Shining Path buddies for that. But I would never get used to the sour-lemon zombie odor; and the strongest whiff of it Iâd had in a very long time scorched my nostrils as the head of the dead zombie leaked at my feet.
When I threw up, I knew the vacation was over.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
I am Ken. I once was part of a family. Theyâre all dead now. I once took long walks every day and rode a bicycle. I swam. I ate food off plates and drank wine. I sang. I made love.
Now I am a cybermummy. A Ken doll. They have taken off the bandages and removed some of the objects from my flesh, but I feel that the aliens have made me less than human. Dr. Ackerman thought the opposite; but I donât feel more than human. Dr. Williams, the director, says they will bring me back to normal, but I donât believe him. The director puts nothing above the importance of winning the war. I am more useful to him now where I am, remaining what I am. The medical team tries to keep its findings from me, but I can tap into all their computer systems.
They say they can overcome my physical weakness quite easily. They can stop feeding me intravenously and slowly acclimate my system to regular food again.Simple brain surgery would restore full mobility, but there is a riskânot to me but to their project. The alien biotech in my head could be altered or lost in the course of getting me back to normal. So they take their time.
Meanwhile, I am plugged into the computers and confined to my bed, except when they risk placing me in a motorized wheelchair. I do not complain about this. I do not tell Jill when she comes to visit me. Sheâs my most frequent visitor. I donât complain to Flynn or Arlene or Albert when they check up on me. These are the people who saved me. They care about me. I see no reason to make them worry.
Keeping my own counsel is a trick I learned when I was very young. I donât tell anyone how much I want to be the man I was. My favorite uncle used to take his family to Hawaii for vacations. Heâd tell us all about it when he visited, and I wanted so much to come here. The irony is that here may be one of the last places on Earth where things are still as he remembered, and I canât go out and see them while there is still time.
I access all that I can on Hawaii. The screen flickers and tells me that Hawaii is a group of islands stretching for over three hundred miles in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I bring up information on how it was discovered by Europeans; and then I read how it became the fiftieth state of the United States. I remember my uncle saying the most popular fish here is difficult to spell, and I find an entry for it, and I realize my uncle was an honest man: humumunukunukuapuaa. I read all about King Kamehameha and envy how he could get around the islands so much more easily than I . . .
I grow tired of feeling sorry for myself. I donât mind being useful. Iâm not certain thatâs the same thing as doing oneâs duty, but I donât really care. This could be the last stand of the human race. But I hate the lies. All the military is good at doing in a crisis is lying. I would never talk about this with brave soldiers. They donât want to hear about it. There is no point in discussing it with cynical senior officers, especially those who have decided to use me without being honest about their intent.
I like my new friends. They have honor. They look out on the world with a clean vision that no amount of dirt or blood can obstruct. They think they are fighting for individualism. For freedom. If the human race survives, they will face a serious disappointment. I have accessed the files. There are plans.
Perhaps I am closer to the future than those who rescued me. I am trapped inside myself. Maybe something deep inside me died when I was in the clutches of the invaders. Before they altered me, I
When I threw up, I knew the vacation was over.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
I am Ken. I once was part of a family. Theyâre all dead now. I once took long walks every day and rode a bicycle. I swam. I ate food off plates and drank wine. I sang. I made love.
Now I am a cybermummy. A Ken doll. They have taken off the bandages and removed some of the objects from my flesh, but I feel that the aliens have made me less than human. Dr. Ackerman thought the opposite; but I donât feel more than human. Dr. Williams, the director, says they will bring me back to normal, but I donât believe him. The director puts nothing above the importance of winning the war. I am more useful to him now where I am, remaining what I am. The medical team tries to keep its findings from me, but I can tap into all their computer systems.
They say they can overcome my physical weakness quite easily. They can stop feeding me intravenously and slowly acclimate my system to regular food again.Simple brain surgery would restore full mobility, but there is a riskânot to me but to their project. The alien biotech in my head could be altered or lost in the course of getting me back to normal. So they take their time.
Meanwhile, I am plugged into the computers and confined to my bed, except when they risk placing me in a motorized wheelchair. I do not complain about this. I do not tell Jill when she comes to visit me. Sheâs my most frequent visitor. I donât complain to Flynn or Arlene or Albert when they check up on me. These are the people who saved me. They care about me. I see no reason to make them worry.
Keeping my own counsel is a trick I learned when I was very young. I donât tell anyone how much I want to be the man I was. My favorite uncle used to take his family to Hawaii for vacations. Heâd tell us all about it when he visited, and I wanted so much to come here. The irony is that here may be one of the last places on Earth where things are still as he remembered, and I canât go out and see them while there is still time.
I access all that I can on Hawaii. The screen flickers and tells me that Hawaii is a group of islands stretching for over three hundred miles in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I bring up information on how it was discovered by Europeans; and then I read how it became the fiftieth state of the United States. I remember my uncle saying the most popular fish here is difficult to spell, and I find an entry for it, and I realize my uncle was an honest man: humumunukunukuapuaa. I read all about King Kamehameha and envy how he could get around the islands so much more easily than I . . .
I grow tired of feeling sorry for myself. I donât mind being useful. Iâm not certain thatâs the same thing as doing oneâs duty, but I donât really care. This could be the last stand of the human race. But I hate the lies. All the military is good at doing in a crisis is lying. I would never talk about this with brave soldiers. They donât want to hear about it. There is no point in discussing it with cynical senior officers, especially those who have decided to use me without being honest about their intent.
I like my new friends. They have honor. They look out on the world with a clean vision that no amount of dirt or blood can obstruct. They think they are fighting for individualism. For freedom. If the human race survives, they will face a serious disappointment. I have accessed the files. There are plans.
Perhaps I am closer to the future than those who rescued me. I am trapped inside myself. Maybe something deep inside me died when I was in the clutches of the invaders. Before they altered me, I
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