I, Death Machine
Even the manner in which Jack Dante had come into the world 32 years ago was different than the births of most people. His mother would have made an excellent parent had she not all but lost her good sense due to an unfortunate heroin addiction and a case of mild schizophrenia. The woman had left her only child in a newspaper-lined cardboard box in her meager apartment ten minutes after she had given him birth. If it hadn't been for his piteous squalling, the landlord wouldn't have entered the abandoned room for at least another week. It would have been too late for Jack by then.
In less than an hour after his rescue, the newborn baby was delivered to the local hospital (a rather rundown establishment which was a sorry excuse for a place of healing). It was discovered by his doctors that the child, like its mother, was addicted to heroin, and the next month of his already unfortunate life was spent in a glass box with tubes stuck in various places of his body.
The boy survived this tenuous time, but he was left scarred by his natal circumstances; he would forever be slight, sickly and weak in body.
When six months had passed, during which his system had become stabilized, the mysterious child with no identity was shipped off to an orphanage which was located two towns over. He would be placed in the developing infant ward, where his basic needs would be taken care of. His emotional development was of no concern to the staff who were responsible for him; they did what they were paid for and nothing more.
When the time came for the custodial rights of the child to be signed over to the orphanage, a problem presented itself which had never before been encountered by them: this child had come to them with no records, no past, as if he had literally fallen from the sky. He had no name that they could sign for him on the release forms.
Despite this unusual circumstance, however, the dilemma would be easily solved; a name simply had to be created for this infant right then. The proprietor, who legally had to be present for the signing over of the child to his institution, was accompanied by his teenaged daughter, an intelligent girl who happened to be quite well-versed in literature. She had been asked by her father if she would like to supply a name for the frail, homely newborn.
The girl thought for a moment before deciding on a combination of the first and last names of her two most favorite authors:
Jack Dante.
So it was recorded in his file, and so the child would be known from that day on.
Even the manner in which Jack Dante had come into the world 32 years ago was different than the births of most people. His mother would have made an excellent parent had she not all but lost her good sense due to an unfortunate heroin addiction and a case of mild schizophrenia. The woman had left her only child in a newspaper-lined cardboard box in her meager apartment ten minutes after she had given him birth. If it hadn't been for his piteous squalling, the landlord wouldn't have entered the abandoned room for at least another week. It would have been too late for Jack by then.
In less than an hour after his rescue, the newborn baby was delivered to the local hospital (a rather rundown establishment which was a sorry excuse for a place of healing). It was discovered by his doctors that the child, like its mother, was addicted to heroin, and the next month of his already unfortunate life was spent in a glass box with tubes stuck in various places of his body.
The boy survived this tenuous time, but he was left scarred by his natal circumstances; he would forever be slight, sickly and weak in body.
When six months had passed, during which his system had become stabilized, the mysterious child with no identity was shipped off to an orphanage which was located two towns over. He would be placed in the developing infant ward, where his basic needs would be taken care of. His emotional development was of no concern to the staff who were responsible for him; they did what they were paid for and nothing more.
When the time came for the custodial rights of the child to be signed over to the orphanage, a problem presented itself which had never before been encountered by them: this child had come to them with no records, no past, as if he had literally fallen from the sky. He had no name that they could sign for him on the release forms.
Despite this unusual circumstance, however, the dilemma would be easily solved; a name simply had to be created for this infant right then. The proprietor, who legally had to be present for the signing over of the child to his institution, was accompanied by his teenaged daughter, an intelligent girl who happened to be quite well-versed in literature. She had been asked by her father if she would like to supply a name for the frail, homely newborn.
The girl thought for a moment before deciding on a combination of the first and last names of her two most favorite authors:
Jack Dante.
So it was recorded in his file, and so the child would be known from that day on.