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Authors: Peter Meredith
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little. Everyone in China had heard stories where investigations blossomed and grew deadly roots that reached out to strangle the guilty and the innocent alike.
One of the scientists, a man named Veng who had unruly, spiked hair, and wore glasses two centimeters thick, and who had a serious crush on the meek Yaoh, asked: “Do you need a character witness? I am more than willing to…”
“No,” Yaoh said, practically running out of the lab. With her head throbbing, she headed for the lady’s room, but at the door she heard voices on the other side. They would be loud as a roomful of hens, she just knew it. She knew they would cluck maddeningly and the sound would pound into her head making her grow crazy, making her want to hurt them. She already wanted to hurt them.
Barely holding herself together, she went for the elevators and rode one deep underground where it would be quiet and cool, and where there’d be fewer people to hear her moan. The basement was a labyrinth of storerooms and machinery and dark shadows if one knew where to look.
Yaoh searched out the dark to hide in. She found a room in which the lights had burned out. It was perfect. Not only was it properly gloomy, it was also piled to the ceiling with boxes of lab equipment, all of which clinked with the sound of glass on glass as she barricaded herself in.
Her mind was going—the pain was great and so too was the hate. It was awful and all she could think was that she had to hide, she had to burrow as far from people as she could get or she would hurt them. As fast as she could, she moved the boxes against the door, and all the while the sound of the lab equipment breaking went right along her nerves like someone dragging a needle across her brain.
Still she worked and she took the pain, knowing that it would be a blessing when all the boxes had been shipped to one side of the room and there was only quiet and dark.
Finally, it was over and all that there was left to her was the pain etching along the neurons in her brain. There was a sound that accompanied the Com-cells multiplying: it was a crackle, like fire. It started small much like the pain had, but soon the crackle became a roar, again just like the pain.
Long, hard minutes passed and both the pain and the sound grew huge in her head. The pain thrummed and the sound of it was enraging, building and building within her until she couldn’t take it anymore. With a shriek, she charged the boxes and began throwing them aside in great heaps. Something drove her to get out of the room but her eyes were growing ever dimmer and the room seemed to grow darker with each box she flung. The boxes crashed as she heaved them but where the door was she couldn’t tell. There were always more boxes and more pain.
She was in the far corner of the room with a box high over her head when the door was shoved open behind her and a stab of light had her cringing.
“What’s going on?” a man asked. He was short and thin with olive skin and black eyes. These generalities were the most Yaoh could make out, that and the fact he looked so clean. And he smelled clean, cleaner than she felt at least. From thirty feet away, she caught his scent, an intriguing mixture of old sweat, cheap cologne, and yesterday’s fried dumplings. It awakened something primal inside of her.
Yaoh was suddenly ravenous. It was a wicked, greedy hunger that knew no bounds. It was a hunger that neither morals or laws could restrain. By now, her brain was black with the Com-cells, she was simply beyond thinking. She leapt over piles of fallen boxes to get at the man.
His eyes bugged to the full extent his epicanthal folds would allow and, too late, he tried to slam the door in Yaoh’s face, only she was far too fast. She was strong, as well.
Her ninety-four pounds felt like a hundred and fifty to Xun Long Bao. He was a maintenance worker and was used to hefting large boxes and crates around all day long and yet this tiny woman
One of the scientists, a man named Veng who had unruly, spiked hair, and wore glasses two centimeters thick, and who had a serious crush on the meek Yaoh, asked: “Do you need a character witness? I am more than willing to…”
“No,” Yaoh said, practically running out of the lab. With her head throbbing, she headed for the lady’s room, but at the door she heard voices on the other side. They would be loud as a roomful of hens, she just knew it. She knew they would cluck maddeningly and the sound would pound into her head making her grow crazy, making her want to hurt them. She already wanted to hurt them.
Barely holding herself together, she went for the elevators and rode one deep underground where it would be quiet and cool, and where there’d be fewer people to hear her moan. The basement was a labyrinth of storerooms and machinery and dark shadows if one knew where to look.
Yaoh searched out the dark to hide in. She found a room in which the lights had burned out. It was perfect. Not only was it properly gloomy, it was also piled to the ceiling with boxes of lab equipment, all of which clinked with the sound of glass on glass as she barricaded herself in.
Her mind was going—the pain was great and so too was the hate. It was awful and all she could think was that she had to hide, she had to burrow as far from people as she could get or she would hurt them. As fast as she could, she moved the boxes against the door, and all the while the sound of the lab equipment breaking went right along her nerves like someone dragging a needle across her brain.
Still she worked and she took the pain, knowing that it would be a blessing when all the boxes had been shipped to one side of the room and there was only quiet and dark.
Finally, it was over and all that there was left to her was the pain etching along the neurons in her brain. There was a sound that accompanied the Com-cells multiplying: it was a crackle, like fire. It started small much like the pain had, but soon the crackle became a roar, again just like the pain.
Long, hard minutes passed and both the pain and the sound grew huge in her head. The pain thrummed and the sound of it was enraging, building and building within her until she couldn’t take it anymore. With a shriek, she charged the boxes and began throwing them aside in great heaps. Something drove her to get out of the room but her eyes were growing ever dimmer and the room seemed to grow darker with each box she flung. The boxes crashed as she heaved them but where the door was she couldn’t tell. There were always more boxes and more pain.
She was in the far corner of the room with a box high over her head when the door was shoved open behind her and a stab of light had her cringing.
“What’s going on?” a man asked. He was short and thin with olive skin and black eyes. These generalities were the most Yaoh could make out, that and the fact he looked so clean. And he smelled clean, cleaner than she felt at least. From thirty feet away, she caught his scent, an intriguing mixture of old sweat, cheap cologne, and yesterday’s fried dumplings. It awakened something primal inside of her.
Yaoh was suddenly ravenous. It was a wicked, greedy hunger that knew no bounds. It was a hunger that neither morals or laws could restrain. By now, her brain was black with the Com-cells, she was simply beyond thinking. She leapt over piles of fallen boxes to get at the man.
His eyes bugged to the full extent his epicanthal folds would allow and, too late, he tried to slam the door in Yaoh’s face, only she was far too fast. She was strong, as well.
Her ninety-four pounds felt like a hundred and fifty to Xun Long Bao. He was a maintenance worker and was used to hefting large boxes and crates around all day long and yet this tiny woman
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