Once upon a time mankind had two heads and four legs and four arms. He cart wheeled everywhere and was always on time. He wore his lover on his stomach and they never kissed or fucked or screamed or loved. The gods took pity and gave these creatures what they needed, some goddamn humanity.
That was the first time the world went mad. Everyone was cut in half and given lust, desire. That was how man went insane and it kept happening over and over. Man burned man and called it religion. Whole villages turned on mothers, wives, husbands, children and called it justice. A mad man decided to kill everyone in the whole world who didn't agree with him and called that evolution.
The last time the world went mad was in 2012. Rossum endorsed greed and sold gluttony on sticks like caramel apples and called this charity, innovation, genius.
Harrow Green was sure 2012 would be the last time the world went mad. Not because the world had become immune to madness but because the world had been set on fire and once it was over Harrow was sure there'd be nothing left to go mad.
"Ms. Green evacuation is in process," a handler said entering her lab without any announcement.
Harrow paid no attention to the well-mannered southern gentleman. He had been so kind as to not manhandle her into moving faster but he had too much respect and fondness for the young woman.
"Ms. Green, please," Williams said again.
"Yes I heard you," Harrow said quietly but she made no move to leave.
She stared out her window at a field of sunflowers reaching out into a blue sky smudged with white clouds. Of course there were no actual sunflowers in fact there wasn't even a window. The Las Vegas Dollhouse was many stories below the surface in the middle of a desert just outside of the city.
"Ms. Green you must be relocated immediately," Williams said his soothing baritone with just a touch of southern twang.
It was no wonder he was the best handler in the house. His voice was almost always like a croon even when handling regular people.
"Just give me a minute," she said leaning back in her chair, "I have a feeling it's going to be a while before I ever see sunflowers again. Say, Father do they have sunflowers in heaven?"
Harrow assumed that was another reason Father Williams was the best handler in the house. He was a former pastor and though he often reminded Harrow of the "former" part she couldn't help but see him as a Godly man. It was as if she could still see the bits and pieces of his religion still clinging to him like bright shiny pieces of glass in someone's foot.
She had been surprised when they brought him in for the first time. She didn't think a Dollhouse would be his scene considering all the sex, drugs, and murder that went down in Vegas but he was a surprise. He had thoroughly surprised her.
Harrow liked surprises when she could afford them.
"Now, Harrow, you know I don't deal in faith anymore," Father Williams said speaking slowly as though they had time, "I don't sell redemption. I cannot get you to heaven no matter how much I hope for you."
He had long ago given up trying to rid himself of the pesky nickname the chief programmer had tagged on him. Benedict Williams had abandoned his faith long ago but he found it funny that a little girl who sold in sin and iniquity had been the one to pin back onto him. Even if he still could not bring himself to believe he was ever reminded of it. He had hated her for it at the beginning. Perhaps he still hated her but loved her too much to show it.
"Aw come on, Father," Harrow said finally turning from the false flower that had turned into a blank screen as soon as she turned away, "you still remember don't you? You can still tell me a story."
When he did not reply, Harrow stood and moved to the duffle bag besides her desk. She had been ready to leave a long time ago.
"Not that I have any delusion of ever getting there," she said, "hey, do you think they got sunflowers in Hell?"
Father Williams walked to stand besides his friend. She was a pretty girl with dark brown eyes and hair to match. Williams had known many pretty girls and he had lost every single one even the ones that belonged to him, the ones to whom he had belonged. Harrow would be no different. He had a feeling this would be the last conversation they would ever have. He would be right.
"No, Harrow, my dear girl," he said truthfully, "there are no flowers in the afterlife, heaven or hell. There is nothing there but darkness. That is the best people like us can hope for."
He leaned down reaching for her bag. She only had one. Harrow was nothing if not economical.
"Why'd you have say it like that?" Harrow said Father Williams could hear the strain in the sound of her voice as her throat became constricted, "why couldn't you just say yes like a good pastor? Why'd you have to be so damn honest?"
Harrow had always been a crier. It was one of her main personality flaws. Mr. Takagawa the director of the Las Vegas house has suggested she just pluck it out. Mr. Takagawa was an ass.
Williams placed the bag on the floor and went back to his friend's side. He placed a hand on her shoulder, that hand that had blessed newborns and whores alike. He had once promised God that he would do His works with that hand. He found it ironic that he had done the works of a god just not the one he had planned to all those years ago.
"Because you and I both know this may very well be the last time we ever speak," he said softly into the air just besides her ear, "and I'd rather you remember me as honest than nice."
Without hesitation Harrow threw her arms around the much taller man's waist pulling him as close as possible. Of course Harrow had considered it would be the last time she would ever see or speak to her wayward man of God. She was a genius and she had played out all the possible outcomes, every single one. Only in 3% of all the outcomes did she see Father Williams again, only 1% where they both came out alive.
"To many people will remember me as nice," Williams said pressing his lips onto the crown of her head until all he could smell was the scent of her shampoo, a warm musky scent, "I'd like at least one person to remember that I was honest too, or that I could be."
"This really is the end of the world isn't it?" Harrow whispered.
"Yes," Father Williams replied, "I think it is."
Harrow closed her eyes but only for a few seconds. That was all the time she had to sear that moment onto the inside of her eyelids. As much as she wanted things to be different, Harrow Green knew she would never see Father Williams again. You see Harrow had no intention of leaving Vegas with the good Father. She would not be joining the other programmers in the safe houses planted all across the country.
As soon as she hit open air Harrow ditched her security and disappeared into the chaos. She had been planning her escape for years ever since Ambrose had informed them of the new direction of their merchandise.
And no matter how much Harrow loved Father Williams, her wayward man of god there was only one person to whom Harrow Green always returned. There was only one person who was endgame. To Harrow Green there would only ever be Brendan Welsh.
A/N: All right so don't blow me off just yet. Think about it. There were tons of other houses with so many other programmers all of them geniuses in their own right. Some of them must have survived. But here's the question. What if they weren't just hired by Rossum. What if corporate didn't just stumble upon these gems, these geniuses. What it they were all planted, grown and harvested?
What if Rossum has been planning for so much longer than we could have even imagined?