Monday, July 29, 2013

The Word Is - Part 1

“Does your head hurt?” a voice asked me. It was a soft voice, in contrast to the hard pain floating in my head. My eyes were closed, and I knew that opening them was what was expected of me, but I've always been a general pain in the ass when it came to such things.

“No,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, “I'm just confusing utter delight with biting pain. I'm sure it'll pass.”

“Well, he's awake at least,” another voice said. A man's voice. Older, more hardened. Smug. I could just tell he and I weren't going to get along well. “You might as well open your eyes. There's no point in keeping them closed. It's not like we'll go away if you do.”

“I should be so lucky,” I muttered to myself. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, and wasn't too surprised by my surroundings, which were nothing, an empty black. They hadn't built it yet. They were waiting on me.

“See, that wasn't so bad now, was it?” said the female voice, and I turned to look at her. She was a pretty young woman, in her mid twenties, easy on the eyes but certainly fit, the build of a runner or a gymnast, with coppery hair pulled back into a ponytail, a dusting of freckles on her face and a pair of deep blue eyes like cobalt. She couldn't have been more than 5'2” or 5'3”. She was wearing a set of hospital scrubs in a faded green, and she made even that simple attire look good. “I tried to pick a form you'd find pleasing, but without full access to your memories, all I had to go on was a pattern of your previous relationships and interests. That and your internet browsing history, of course,” she said with an apologetic smile. “But at this point, you have to assume we're going to know an awful lot about you.”

“Naturally,” I said. I could see where bits and pieces of her derived inspiration from previous lovers I'd had – the button nose that Jenny had, the slight Scottish brogue that had haunted Kirsty's voice even after years of living stateside, the body was straight Natalie down to the slight wiggle of her hips. “So that'd make you 'good cop,' I'd guess, hm?”

She offered me a winning smile, fifty thousand watts on high, trying to win favor and get me to lower my guard down. “You really shouldn't try and think of it like that.”

I turned my gaze towards where I'd heard the other voice a little bit ago to see the second person. “And that'd make you 'bad cop' then.”

The man there was dark skinned, in his late forties or so, large and muscular, but not aggressively so. He had a gentle giant look to him, and stood at least four inches taller than me, and I'm no slouch in the height department. He, too, was wearing hospital scrubs, but he looked a lot less relaxed in them, his powerful arms folded over his chest. “I'll wear that if I have to, but she's right,” he said, “you shouldn't try and think of it like that.”

I put my hands on the inky black matte floor, or whatever it was, and pushed against it to stand up, with a bit of effort. The room was spinning a little, so I widened my stance to get a better balance.

“Easy there,” she said to me, “you've been unconscious a bit, and sometimes there's some disorientation along with the pain.” She took a step towards me, but I raised a hand towards her, palm out, to signal her not to come closer. “As hard as this might be to believe, we do care about your health.”

“My health,” I muttered. I spat on the ground, but the ball of spit disappeared before it reached the floor. “If you care about my health so much, we don't need to do any of this, now do we?” Looking past either the man or the woman was like staring into the abyss – only black nothingness peered back at me, space with no stars. “It's not like I'm here voluntarily.”

“Well then,” the man said to me, “you probably want to get out of here as soon as possible. And all you have to do to make that happen is to let us in.”

I scowled at him. “What do I call you?”

“What do you want to call us?” he replied, a smug grin on his face.

My scowl deepened. “Fine. I'll call you Janus, and I'll call her Apate. That'll do for now.”

“That's not very kind of you,” she said, a frown crossing her pretty face. “But I suppose it's your right to call us whatever you like.”

“It's not really going to matter much anyway,” Janus said. “Sooner or later, you'll give us what we want. Haven't you heard? Everyone breaks, in the end.”

“Well then,” I replied, my turn to have a grin on my face, “you won't mind me seeing it out until that end, now, will you?”

He offered a weary shrug, as if he knew this was coming, but there had been nothing he could do to avert or avoid it. “You're the one who gets to deal with all the pain.”

I glanced back at Apate, waving my hand around at the emptiness around us. “All a bit primitive, isn't it?”

She nodded, a touch glumly. “It always starts like this. It'll get easier as it goes along, more lively. Eventually you won't even notice the walls breaking down, and one day, we'll have everything we need from you.”

“Your name is Henry James Adams the Third,” Janus said as he started to pace around me, carefully, methodically, Apate starting to pace as well, the two of them orbiting me like moons, rotating around and

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