---
evolution
Fanfic by Jixie 8/4/06
The
BIG-O © SUNRISE INC
---
It had been raining, on and off, for three days now. Immersed in
his work,
Gordon Rosewater hardly noticed the changing weather...
but after so much
rain the mildew began to creep in, its stink
filling the decrepit rooms of
the orphanage. It was an unpleasant
distraction.
The book lay open on the counter, amidst the measuring tools,
unwashed
equipment, and vials of indispensable chemicals. He was
preparing for the
next batch, and there was still so much to be
done. He worked, tireless and
unrelenting, into the late hours of
the night. The memory was a fire inside
him, a powerful
motivating force that moved him to action.
The book was open, empty and waiting.
tap - tap - tap
The sound was so faint-- and he so occupied with his work-- that
he didn't
notice it at first. Like the rain it would stop and
wait, before starting
again.
He heard it finally, and ignored it. There was no time for
distractions, no
time for interruptions.
tap - tap - tap
Gordon huffed, unable to excuse the persistent knocking any
longer. He set
aside his notes, shuffled around some of the
instruments that set on the
counter before him, and flipped out
the lights before leaving the room. He
locked to the door to the
laboratory-- both locks.
The knocking came from the main entryway. It was not far, but it
still took
a minute for him to get there. The sound had stopped
once more, and for a
moment he wondered if he should go back to
the lab.
The main entry was rarely used, the front door hadn't been opened
in ages,
and it was stuck tight. Gordon struggled to pull it open
and it came loose
with a jolt, swinging back and banging against
the opposite wall. He tried
to look imposing, but as he glanced
outside he faltered.
A young girl stood under the overhang, huddled close to the
doorway. She
was damp from the rain, the delicate curls of her
hair frizzled from the
humidity.
It was one of them.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
She looked up at him and blinked slowly. "I..." Her eyes
were dull and dis-
oriented, lost in a trance of forgotten
memories. "...is this home?" she
asked finally,
sounding the words out carefully.
He took her by the shoulder and guided her inside, gently shutting
the door
behind them.
It was one from the last group, one he'd finished only a couple
years
before. This girl had been one of the oldest, but it was
still too early... far
too early... for any them to remember.
Whatever memory had led her to
this place must have been a fluke,
a mistake...
No, not a mistake, he realized with a start. She was going bad.
It was disheartening, all that hard work wasted. While he was
already in
preparation for the next group, it hurt to know that
another batch had gone
rotten. And so soon after they were
done.
"This isn't your home, little girl. You're lost. Where did you come from?"
She flinched, still dazed, still confused. "Where did I come
from?" she
echoed. "Where? I... I know this place... I
know this..."
He looked down at her, timid and pretty. She couldn't have been
more than
fourteen. It was too early, even for a failed crop.
"Please, help me. Where am I? Why do I remember... this place?"
He was curious if the others had already begun to go bad. Not that
it
mattered, once it started they would all become rotten in
time; the
intrepid leader, the audacious enforcer, the psychopath
abomination, the
inquisitive intellect. Each and every damn one
of them, a shameful waste
of his hard work.
The girl, who was now focused on Gordon, would not be ignored. She
grabbed his hand, strong and calloused, in her own petite hands
and clutched
them against her chest. He felt her nails scratching
his skin, strands of pale
blonde hair, the wet blouse and tender
skin.
It was too soon. Why was she here?
She spoke again, a lilting flurry of foreign words. He had half a
mind to
throw her out. Instead, he led her back to the
laboratory. A few simple
questions revealed that she really
didn't remember much, so he told her
bits and pieces of
half-truths along the way. It would be enough to push
her in the
right direction.
It was impossible to let them know any part of the truth, be they
success
or failure. He never offered anything beyond clues of
what might've been.
They reached the lab and he quickly unlocked it and ushered her
in. Hints
of answers always got them thinking, searching. Eager
to find out more, she
gladly followed his directions. It was too
soon, but...
There was a Memory inside of her, waiting to be realized.
He locked the door from inside-- both locks. "Pardon," she asked, "what...?"
Now that it had started, Gordon knew what was required. He was a
little
uncomfortable, realizing how young she still was, but the
memory was a fire
inside of him. A terrible, rousing force that
moved him into action.
Gordon didn't know if he'd have this opportunity again, and
although the
timing was off, he had to act now. It was the fire
that fueled his work,
his destiny. He reached out for her,
fingers grabbing a handful of her
blouse. She looked up at him,
eyes wide. She knew.
"Don't." The girl backed away, tried to push him aside.
"Non." It was too
late, her memories had already
led her back to this place, and things must
be brought to full
circle. He pinned her against the counter, equipment and
flasks
shoved aside, shattering violently onto the floor. Neither noticed
the sound of breaking glass-- only trembling, struggled breaths.
Neither
noticed the smell of the damp moldy building-- only
sweat, and the faint
clinging remains of flowery perfume.
She didn't scream when he took her, but she wept, and she bled.
The book was open, the blank pages ready for the next memory to be
written
in. He'd marked his place with a torn photograph, the
memory of Memories
burning inside and out. The fire was red, the
tomatoes, the book, the blood.
When it was over, he kissed her head, the golden curls that were a
tangled
mess on the floor of his laboratory. Assured that she
would bring a Memory
into the world, he left her to lie there,
and went back to his work.
In the morning he would send her away, outside of the city, to a
place where
flowers still bloomed. It would be a matter of weeks
before the memories
of her childhood now would blend with the
artificially placed memories
of the experiment, and the
inadvertent memories of foreign life produced
from her rotting
mind. She would remember her name was Vera, and she
would forget
how she became pregnant, or how she ended up outside of
Paradigm.
It was their own little destiny, the roles they were compelled to
act out. Gordon was too busy, and the work too important, to feel
guilty
about it.
In the end, it would be only a brief passing note mentioned on a
page in
Metropolis.
-fin