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Authors: pleasefindthis, Iain S. Thomas
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dragged by the guards from where they were on the floor through the dirty passage that runs between the cells. There’s Harkan™ Clean Sweeps installed on either end of the passage, machines designed to automatically sanitise an area; so it’s obvious, Jon thinks, that the guards leave the corridor filthy on purpose.
“Take Edward to the committee for rebuilding and reworking,” says the doctor.
“So they can make a coffee table out him?” asks the shorter of the two guards. It’s always the little ones who say the most.
“No, Ivan, treat our guests properly,” says the doctor.
“Your mother was poison ivy and your father was fertilizer,” says Edward. The bigger guard slams his gun into the back of Edward’s head.
“Jon is going to my office,” says the doctor.
The other guard lets out a grunt and drags Jon by the shirt behind them, who is now barely struggling. Now Jon’s wondering if he’ll ever see Michelle again. Perhaps they will experiment on him before they kill him. They lead him into a lift; the doctor obviously has his own. As they go up, the windows flash by and Jon gets a glimpse of NewLand. The floating news zeppelin constantly hovering above the city relays a headline about a terrorist captured on a train. There’s a picture of Jon. He focuses on the news screen and waits for the audio to be beamed into his head but it isn’t. It’s the glass, he supposes the United Government building doesn’t handle audio feeds too well. Intentionally probably. Jon tries to see if he can spot Emily’s apartment or his own. Maybe he’ll see Michelle in the window but he can’t, everything is too far away.
They drag him out the lift and down another passageway, past several laboratories and one particularly strange room with thick black velvet curtains and a series of mechanical sextants, powered by massive fires and they whir as they track the stars. They take him through plain, white, and unassuming plastic doors. The white-haired doctor’s office is made of a kind of chrome and wood hybrid that reflects strange silver patterns of light, which are coming from what looks to be a real WindowSkreen™ (not a recording), a literal window into the past, currently set to a field in France during a particular bloody revolution. Cannons fire and men die silently behind the glass. Tomorrow, the same day will replay itself but perhaps in a different location, depending on what model it is. The windows make up the majority of decor in the room, which is otherwise a very clean, white space, except for a cluttered oak desk. The guard shoves him into a lush, leather chair in front of the desk and Jon offers no resistance. They activate two cuffs on the armrests and Jon is restrained.
The white-haired doctor enters the room from a door at the back of the office and sits down in a second leather chair on the opposite side of the desk, facing Jon.
The man Jon has never met before in his life says, “Your father was a great man.”
Chapter 8
Then
A lady practices falling down so that her abusive, amnesiac husband will think he’s already beaten her and just leave her the hell alone. She keeps a secret video log of all that happens, miles away.
Jon is lying in bed, still unable to sleep, still with a test to write tomorrow. He thinks of Michelle, of the way her body moved on the swing at the park, of the sound of her voice; he thinks of his comic books, of The Black Kracken , of what the heroes he reads about would do in this situation. He’s angry at Michelle for leaving and not waiting for the comic book and he’s angry with his father for screwing with his plans to get Michelle inside the house. He’s angry with him in the way that only people close to you are allowed to be angry with you. Jon sits up in his bed. He’s never been so close to being alone with a girl. God fucking damn it. He gets out of bed and slowly but purposefully punches the wall with a dull thud, then collapses and starts to cry
“Take Edward to the committee for rebuilding and reworking,” says the doctor.
“So they can make a coffee table out him?” asks the shorter of the two guards. It’s always the little ones who say the most.
“No, Ivan, treat our guests properly,” says the doctor.
“Your mother was poison ivy and your father was fertilizer,” says Edward. The bigger guard slams his gun into the back of Edward’s head.
“Jon is going to my office,” says the doctor.
The other guard lets out a grunt and drags Jon by the shirt behind them, who is now barely struggling. Now Jon’s wondering if he’ll ever see Michelle again. Perhaps they will experiment on him before they kill him. They lead him into a lift; the doctor obviously has his own. As they go up, the windows flash by and Jon gets a glimpse of NewLand. The floating news zeppelin constantly hovering above the city relays a headline about a terrorist captured on a train. There’s a picture of Jon. He focuses on the news screen and waits for the audio to be beamed into his head but it isn’t. It’s the glass, he supposes the United Government building doesn’t handle audio feeds too well. Intentionally probably. Jon tries to see if he can spot Emily’s apartment or his own. Maybe he’ll see Michelle in the window but he can’t, everything is too far away.
They drag him out the lift and down another passageway, past several laboratories and one particularly strange room with thick black velvet curtains and a series of mechanical sextants, powered by massive fires and they whir as they track the stars. They take him through plain, white, and unassuming plastic doors. The white-haired doctor’s office is made of a kind of chrome and wood hybrid that reflects strange silver patterns of light, which are coming from what looks to be a real WindowSkreen™ (not a recording), a literal window into the past, currently set to a field in France during a particular bloody revolution. Cannons fire and men die silently behind the glass. Tomorrow, the same day will replay itself but perhaps in a different location, depending on what model it is. The windows make up the majority of decor in the room, which is otherwise a very clean, white space, except for a cluttered oak desk. The guard shoves him into a lush, leather chair in front of the desk and Jon offers no resistance. They activate two cuffs on the armrests and Jon is restrained.
The white-haired doctor enters the room from a door at the back of the office and sits down in a second leather chair on the opposite side of the desk, facing Jon.
The man Jon has never met before in his life says, “Your father was a great man.”
Chapter 8
Then
A lady practices falling down so that her abusive, amnesiac husband will think he’s already beaten her and just leave her the hell alone. She keeps a secret video log of all that happens, miles away.
Jon is lying in bed, still unable to sleep, still with a test to write tomorrow. He thinks of Michelle, of the way her body moved on the swing at the park, of the sound of her voice; he thinks of his comic books, of The Black Kracken , of what the heroes he reads about would do in this situation. He’s angry at Michelle for leaving and not waiting for the comic book and he’s angry with his father for screwing with his plans to get Michelle inside the house. He’s angry with him in the way that only people close to you are allowed to be angry with you. Jon sits up in his bed. He’s never been so close to being alone with a girl. God fucking damn it. He gets out of bed and slowly but purposefully punches the wall with a dull thud, then collapses and starts to cry
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