Martine sat uneasily in her chair as a moth fluttered
around, trapped in her florescent clear body. Martine would listen to
it's humming as it drew closer to the glowing light bulb situated
near her furiously pumping heart. One of Arthur's inventions,
keeping his wife alive.
The darkness fell quickly on the city outside Martine's
window. Decayed and depraved gray buildings that lined up beside each
other for as far as the eye could see. Martine never went out of her
apartment. She only sat at her window and watched the world go by.
Watching blue-pink spheres rotate in the sky, leaving a gray film
over the city. The poisonous gas in the air would shatter her clear
plastic body, if Martine would step outside, others, without a gas
mask, would turn into a lump blackened flesh as if they had been in
an oven.
She would sketch the happenings out there, people
walking along the sidewalk, to their jobs, back to their homes.
Children playing in the streets, or going off to school. It was a way
to try to forget all their troubles, especially the bills.
Arthur came home.
Martine was glad to see him. She ran to Arthur and hugged him. He
took off his gas mask and threw it in the corner of the small one
room house. He stood there, gently shut the door as he put his arms
around her. She looked up smiling at him. Arthur kissed the top of
her head.
“What have you been doing all day, then?” He went to the kitchen
table with her hanging on to his arms. He sat down, tossed his duffel
bag on the bed that was only a few inches from the table.
“Just drawing,” Martine said. She sat next to him. “How was
your day?” She handed him her sketch book.
“It's always the same at the factory, Martine,” Arthur thumbed
through the pages quickly until he came across a picture he liked. He
laughed. “Mrs. Quran and her awful kids. This is a real good one.”
The sketch was more of a caricature than a resemblance. It
showed a large woman with three heads, one smiling at a man on
street, one crying, another with large teeth biting at her children.
“What did you make today?” Martine asked. She went to
the stove and stirred a brown liquid that bubbled to the top of the
rusted pot. She returned to the table, placed the pot in front of
Arthur. She sat down, her eyes transfixed on him.
“It's the same everyday, darling. Creating the
perfect flower and planting it to restore oxygen to the atmosphere
here in our city.” No. That wasn't what he was making. He was mass
producing the Police cameras, a robotic EYE.
“Eat,” Martine touched his hand.
“Are you having any?” Arthur took the metal
spoon and scooped some of the brown goo out. He put it to his lips
and cringed. With eyes closed, holding his breath, Arthur swallowed
the only nourishment the Uppers allowed his people to have.
“No,” She shook her head. “I ate yesterday.
I'll be fine for the rest of the week.”
It was true that brown muck was made from a wheat germ grown
inside the testicle of a pig, which itself is grown in laboratory;
has all the requirements a human body needs to survive.
Arthur ate the entire pot, immediately he felt his stomach
ache. He ran to the bathroom. Just a room with a non-working commode,
a cracked mirror, and a rusted sink. He sat on the commode just in
time.
There was a knock at the door. Martine answered it,
precariously. Standing in the doorway was a tall, thin man in a
black trench coat and a gas mask, which was surgically attached to
his face.
She screamed and slammed the door shut. Martine ran to
the bed and crawled underneath the cot. There was the sound of
continuous rapping. A voice calling out Arthur's last name. Martine
was shaking. She closed her eyes and wished the situation would
disappear.
She felt hands on her. She was being pulled from under the
cot. She opened her eyes and saw Arthur. She threw her arms around
his neck, sobbing loudly.
“I'm sorry,” Martine said.
“It's okay.” Arthur whispered. “You didn't
know who it was.”
“I just thought it was one of the
neighbors...Mrs. Quaran. or her kids.”
“Mr. Hope...you owe the City Corporation four thousand crowns,”
The voice was computerized with no human touch involved at all. “Pay
or face the consequences.”
Bill collectors were Automated beings. Once activated, you either
pay what you owed, or everything inside the building is destroyed.
You can not argue your way out of the situation. But, they can not
come inside the building unless invited in or acknowledged.
Martine acknowledged it.
Now the second faze has been activated. It will find entrance
at all cost.
They heard it on the roof of the building. Footsteps echoed, the
ceiling bowed. Tile and dust fell upon Martine and Arthur's heads.
Arthur was not going to be a sitting duck. He left Martine and went
to the window to see if the lights from the Police vehicle the Bill
collector had rode in was still shining.
Martine rolled back under the cot. She closed her eyes, still
wishing it would all disappear.
Arthur slipped on his gas mask. He put on his bomber jacket and
took a screwdriver with him. Outside, the sky was a velvet cover no
stars could enter. The only light the city was allowed outside was
the EYE, a Police vehicle that a huge silver ball-shape with long
spider-like legs and a camera attached that could see up to a
thousand miles from it's resting place.
Arthur approached the EYE, it lowered a it's gun, it's target was
set. An automated voice sounded off a warning. Arthur ignored it.
Arthur fell to the ground on his stomach, just as the
EYE fired a green beam from it's gun. The beam just barely missed
Arthur. He rolled left, another beam shot past his face. It burned a
larger hole in the city street than the first. Arthur was still
holding his screwdriver in his right hand. He placed the point of
the screwdriver into a crevice between the the ball and the legs.
As soon as Arthur could feel electricity move from the
EYE to his fingertips, he dropped the screwdriver and rolled from
underneath the machine. Blue and pink sparks covered the EYE, an
electrical prism had been born.
The EYE crumbled from the lack of stability. It's front
leg fell to the asphalt, wires still attached to it's now exposed
hardware, a circuit board going haywire.
Arthur watched the machine fall apart completely, dust
and rubble enveloping it. Soon the human Police will arrive. An
entire army. He will be shot on sight. But who will take care of
Martine?
Then he remembered Martine. He remembered the Bill
collector. He remembered
the danger she was
in.
He ran inside the house, or what was left of it inside.
The table was obliterated as well as the bed, where he left Martine.
Large holes in the walls , sharing the outside world, poisonous gas
and the red glow from other Police EYES swarming the night skies.
There, in the middle of a mattress turned to pulp, was
what was left of Martine's body...pieces of her...her clear plastic
chest cracked wide open....her internal organ lay disconnected from
her circuit board.....the light bulb that was once beside her beating
heart, now in shards next to her along with remnants of dust from the
Atom ball. She had a peaceful smile on her partial face.
From behind him he heard the Bill collector's voice.
“Paid in full—or suffer the consequences....” The Bill
collector held in both open hands the particles from the personal
Atom ball he'd just cracked open.
Arthur was motionless. Stunned. Only his hands shook,
his mouth was left gaping, a tiny gurgle meant as a scream rose from
his dry throat.
A moth fluttered by Arthur, momentarily taking his
eyes from the Bill collector.
The moth flew to the Bill collector and disappeared
into a tiny crack on the left side of his gas mask. He flinched,
began waving his arms desperately. The Atom particles fell to his
trench coat and immediately blew him apart. A small mushroom cloud
formed from detached body.
The moth flew from his gas mask and fluttered around
Arthur's face. He opened up a hand. It gently fell on the palm,
crawled to the end of his index finger. He brought it up to his gas
mask. It crawled around until it found a slight opening on the right
side, eased itself inside.
Arthur heard it whisper his name and he knew it was
Martine's voice.
No comments:
Post a Comment