Read Online Nightingale Songs by Simon Strantzas - Free Book Online Page A

consoles beeped when processes were complete, telephones rang to ensure the work was progressing normally; each cast a ripple of noise that barely registered on its own, but en mass they caused tempestuous waves in his calm. If he could, Fisher would have worn his noise-cancelling headphones throughout his shift to block out all but the direst sounds and communications, but it was impossible. Instead, he had to suffer the tumult and recognized that as far as jobs went it was the one most suited to him. He'd grown used to most of the noises, and he had managed to suppress the amount of anxiety they inflicted on him to a background level that, if not ideal, was at least manageable. Rose, on the other hand, was far more disruptive, and there was little he could do to quiet her. He liked Rose as much as he could, and he kept hoping she'd eventually come to understand his affliction, but nothing stopped her from taking any opportunity to speak to him. Her words were like flying insects that buzzed in his ear until he paid them attention.
    "Did I ever tell you what I did?" she asked him. The sentence seemed to have started much sooner in her head.
    "What do you mean?"
    "About my daughter? About those bullies? I don't think you'd approve," she said, impishly. "Normally, I wouldn't have done anything in case I caused more problems for her, you understand, but it was clear that none of the teachers cared that those bullying girls were stepping up their attacks. Something needed to be done. So I did it."
    "You confronted them?" Fisher tried to picture Rose on the school grounds, threatening two children. "I suppose they were terrified?"
    Here, Rose's proud smile faltered and she turned back to the medical histories she had been sorting for Doctor Wy . "No, they weren't. They weren't frightened at all."
    "What were they then?"
    "Nothing. They were nothing. Their eyes were cold and black and empty. And the noises those girls made --"
    A rapid banging interrupted her. The noise was so loud and sharp it drove cold sparks along Fisher's body like an electrical current. His tongue was bleeding from where he bit it but his teeth would not stop chattering. Rose however looked unfazed.
    "There's someone at the door," she said.
    Through squinted lids Fisher saw a pair of shadows move across the windows at the front of the lab.
    "Find out who it is," he said, hands across his ears, "and get them to stop."
    Rose sighed and picked up something Fisher didn't see from the desk. She looked back at him, holding up her keys, before shaking her head again. He looked over his shoulder at the camera footage of Sanderson's test. The display showed the patient lying motionless, the graph lines on the console barely moving. Thankfully he had not been awakened.
    At the door Rose spoke to someone who stood just out of sight. Fisher hazarded uncovering his ears, but though the banging had ceased it had been replaced by the drowning noise of construction that the open door permitted through. The mere sight of the unlocked door unnerved Fisher; he felt the dread of a half-forgotten nightmare squeezing his chest, and took a step forward to see who stood there hidden. The sight of Martin Breem jittering into view was not a relief.
    "You shouldn't be here," Rose said, following Breem inside. "Wednesdays are your day. You have to leave or you'll ruin --" Rose's voice faltered as she saw the dark bruises running down Breem's arms. It was clear the man had been crying; his whole demeanor radiated both weakness and hopelessness. He looked at Fisher as the words tumbled out.
    "My ulcers are back, and I haven't slept in days. There's something really wrong; I can feel it."
    "Mister Breem, you know we can't have you in here."
    "Why?"
    "Because the experiment will be compromised," said Fisher, "and that compromises everyone."
    Breem began to claw at his face. "Don't you get it? Don't you see what he's doing? Oh, God, I thought maybe you'd be different, but you're all the same