The Big O and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual. Additional plot, settings and characters are © by Chaosium.

THE BIG O:

ACT 31

DREAMS DARK AND DEADLY

Chapter Ten: Short of Breath

Behind a locked door on the third floor of Dinosaur Lodge a haggard man who appeared to be in his mid-forties strummed on a guitar.

"He knew too little, saw too much. No escaping the nightmare's clutch—

Evil in the guise of man, child of the deep sea's clan;

Gone to death with no goodbye, but with strange eons even death may die."

His song was interrupted when the door to his room opened. "Come," the squat figure ordered as a high pitched noise filled the room. "There is work to do."

"Leggo!" Burton Fielding protested as Roger held the scientist's arm behind his back and forced him out of the Lab building and towards the skinny carillon tower that was nearby. "You're hurting my arm!"

"I'll hurt more than your arm if you've done anything to Dorothy," Roger growled.

"I think it's safe to let go of him," said the dapper Lawrence Winthrop tagging along behind them. "He knows better than to run."

"He better not," Roger threatened as they approached the thirty-foot stone tower of circular blocks. "Or he'll be eating his next meal through a straw."

Roger noticed a stair descending into the earth nearby. "Where does that go?"

"It leads to the generators and the air conditioning machinery for the Datamaster," Fielding told him. "But you can't enter by that door without setting off an alarm.

"I understand it all connects up down there," Winthrop added. "Don't worry; we'll check everything I assure you."

"Very well," Roger nodded. "Mister Fielding? If you would do the honors?"

Fielding fumbled with his keychain and put a key into the hole on the disk at the end of the pole. The elevator doors opened and the three of them got in. The doors opened to a room with shaped like a section of a pie with two straight walls and one outer curved wall. A door was in each wall, but only the sliding glass doors in the curved wall was protected by a keypad.

"What's in there?" Roger asked.

"The Datamaster," Fielding said, "but only the right combination will get you in. The whole room is sterile; even the air going in is filtered."

"A locked room is the perfect place to hide something, especially a dead body," Roger said. "Open it Fielding."

"Okay," the young scientist gulped as he punched in the combination. Their shoes scrunched on a black pad spread before the door like a welcome mat before the doors slid open. They entered a small room that had lockers to the right and left. A second set of glass doors remained shut on the other side.

"Hold it," Roger ordered as the mop haired Fielding opened a locker.

"I was just getting out some lab coats," Fielding explained. "You got to wear them every time you enter the computer room."

"We'll make an exception in this case," Roger nodded dryly. "If Dorothy's not in the computer room we'll search the lockers and then move on to the rest of the basement area. How long do we have to wait until the inner doors open?"

"Only until the air has been filtered," Fielding told him. At that moment, the doors to the Datamaster slid open. "There we go," he said has he entered the computer room. "Now be careful and don't touch anything. The Datamaster is a sensitive instrument… huh?"

Before Fielding could continue, the doors slid shout behind him. Quizzically, he pressed the button on his side of the doors but the portal refused to open. In the meantime, Roger and Winthrop heard fans hidden in the ceiling roar to life.

"What's happening?" Roger asked as he looked around.

"The air is being pumped out!" Winthrop exclaimed.

That was good news/bad news. The good news was that Roger could probably cross Winthrop off his list of suspects. The bad news was that if Roger didn't think of something, he was probably going to die.

And thinking of something proved harder than it looked too. He threw himself against the clear transparent doors, but it wasn't any good; they were made of some kind of special plexiglass that was stronger than it looked. He saw Fielding's horrified expression and it looked like he had been wrong about the scientist too. Either that or Fielding had never done the dirty work himself and never saw people die up close before. He thought he actually saw the young scientist mouth 'no', but of course he couldn't hear him and wasn't really paying attention in the first place.

Roger's head was ringing and his lungs were aching. He felt like he was going to pop like a balloon and he couldn't breathe. It was all he could do to stay on his feet and pretty soon he couldn't even do that. He was in too much pain to pass out but it wasn't long before he did anyway. In the meantime Fielding was at the controls of the Datamaster, but whatever he was doing was anyone's guess.

The doors hissed open and two figures appeared from the outer doors. "Good," said a short squat man. "Now help me move the bodies."

Slowly painfully, Roger regained consciousness. His breath rasped uncomfortably in his throat and he couldn't move. He heard voices but his brain couldn't make sense of them, at least not at first. Gradually the pain in his lungs, stomach and head managed to team up and revive the bleary negotiator.

"I'm pleased you're finally awake," a hoarse whispery voice snarled as Roger's eyes unsuccessfully tried to focus on the harsh lighting. Where was he? He tried to cough out a witty rejoinder before he realized the voice wasn't talking to him. It was talking to Winthrop.

"It's hard not wake up when you put an oxygen mask over my face," Winthrop's hoarse voice retorted coolly. "Gilbert Manes, our own chef. I suppose you have some reason for this strange behavior?"

"Oh yes," Manes gloated, his bulgy eyes shining. "I have the perfect reason Mister Winthrop!" He said that name as if it was profanity. "You, whose father was the bane of my family, have been the perfect pawn!"

"Oh really?" Winthrop attempted to sound calm. "In what way?"

"It seems that Dandridge and Fielding's little toy mimicked the human brain better than they dreamed," Manes chuckled at the pun. "It seems they inadvertently provided a channel through which the will of the Great One could work Its will on the your unsuspecting researchers."

"The Great One?" Winthrop repeated. "Its will? What are you talking about?"

"That will, the chorazin, that portion of Its being most psychically accessible, has been invited by the methodical intrusion of the Dreamweb into humanity's collective unconscious," Manes explained. "The chorazin was able to tap into and make limited use of the Datamaster computer."

"What for?" Winthrop asked as his mind raced for a possible escape.

"The Great One's id-like, vicious will replaces your so-called rational thought altogether, seeping like water to dominate alike matter and the immaterial," Manes continued. "When the rest of Its kind was freed from their hibernation four decades ago the Great One was left in Its living death as a sacrifice. The Great One wishes to free Itself and enjoy the existence this world has to offer."

"And how is it going to do that?" Winthrop asked to keep him talking.

"Quite simply, Its going to create a simulacrum of itself to use as a physical body in order to free Its true self," Manes said, "but in order to do that it needs the requisite amount of energy."

"Energy?" Winthrop asked. "What do you mean? Electricity perhaps? There isn't very much of that here…"

"Not Electricity," Manes shook his head. "Bioenergy. Life energy. The kind you can only get from sentient beings."

"Life energy?" Winthrop shuddered. "You mean human souls? You're sucking the life force out of people?"

"Yes, Mister Winthrop, your father would be proud," Manes sneered. "Your father certainly was when he put my Grandfather's house to the torch fifty years ago, and then bought up the property and built this place on it. Did he gloat before he died, Mister Winthrop or did he forget everything? I want to know."

"Gilbert," Winthrop muttered. "Gilman. Your real name is Gilman isn't it? You're the remnant of that cult mentioned in my father's journal aren't you?"

"Yes, Mister Winthrop," the cook smiled. "Now it's just the two of us, both of us the last of our lines. Back where it all began, to finish it forever! Poetic, isn't it?"

"Very," Winthrop huffed. "Tell me, before you finish me off, how much of that in my father's journal is true anyway? Are you really related to a race of fish people?"

"Oh yes," Manes nodded. "They're quite immortal. They never grow old. Never die. I can't wait until the change is upon me so I can join them."

"Well good luck with that," Winthrop snorted. "Tell me, how did you manage to take control of all the researchers?"

"I didn't," Manes shrugged. "The Great One did. As each scientist went under the Dreamweb, the Great One was able to insert itself in their minds. Now it can take control of any of them when they sleep. The sleepwalking Fielding himself spent months reprogramming the Datamaster without even realizing it! And to this day he has no memory of any of the services he provided! One by one they all have been subverted. All except you Mister Winthrop."

"I'm a private person," Winthrop said dryly. "You've been keeping secrets of your own haven't you?"

"It's time for all secrets to come out now Mister Winthrop," Manes continued. "Your new visitor has seen to that! Mister Smith and his deceptive companion found one of the bodies and the Great One couldn't allow an investigation when It's so close!" He glared at the gurney that Roger was lying on. "Thanks to those meddlers we've had to step up Its plan and hope that the life forces of the remaining people here are enough to allow It to create a physical form. I've sacrificed over a hundred to It, and It's almost strong enough! Just a few more…"

"And the monster that scared poor Rita off the road?" Winthrop asked. "What was that, you in a plastic mask or something?"

"No Mister Winthrop," Manes shook his head. "It seems that Fielding wanted to prove his genius by creating another invention. A few modifications to his subconscious and he created his Dream Imager exactly to the Great One's specifications! With it the Great One can focus Its will and actually create physical servants in the form of solid holograms!"

And that was what we caught Fielding doing," Winthrop said. "He must have been sleepwalking, under your control. The boy hasn't been getting very much sleep but how do you manage to knock him out so you can control him? Have you been drugging his coffee?"

"Only when I had to," Manes gloated. "But to be honest that isn't necessary anymore. While he was asleep Mister Fielding was good enough to build a portable device that lets out subsonic echoes. With it I was able to take control of the minds of people who hadn't even been under the Dreamweb!"

"You've been busy," Winthrop grumbled. "I don't suppose that the wholesale murder of over a hundred innocent people bothers you?"

"Not in the least," Manes assured him. "Although I have to admit that since your father's time your kind has become an… endangered species."

"Endangered species?" Winthrop flinched. "What do you mean by that?" He thought about it for a moment. "Oh yes, I see what you mean. You're implying that aside of Paradigm City and a few towns there isn't much of humanity left aren't you?"

"Such a true intellectual," Manes smiled condescendingly. "That's right. There isn't very many of you stupid apes to go around. That's why They set aside this land for you. To prevent you from going extinct, They've allowed you to thrive undisturbed in your natural environment, a corrupt decadent city."

"If 'They' truly exist and are all powerful, don't you think they might stop your master from making his miraculous escape?" Winthrop asked obviously playing for time. If he could confuse Manes maybe there was a way out of this.

"They don't care about you stupid apes as much as you think They do," Manes assured him. "But the Great One's plan is foolproof! It has control of your staff, your facility, and your computer. For example, when Mister Smith here tried to telephone Paradigm City's Military Police the Datamaster intercepted the conversation and faked Colonel Dastun's voice as soon as it had sampled enough to create a convincing imitation."

So that's what happened, Roger thought. After a hiss of static, Dastun's tune totally changed. It was like a dial on a radio was turned to a different station.

"I had hoped to draw this out slowly to allay suspicion but thanks to Mister Smith I shall have to finish you all off in a hurry. I've already disposed of Doctor Dandridge and Doctor Weemes, but I might as well move Mister Smith up to the front of the line. It makes no sense to wake him up just to put him out again."

That's my cue, Roger decided. It doesn't matter how dizzy I am, I've got to try something. He tried to heave himself off the gurney but found that he was bound by leather straps. No matter how much he struggled he couldn't get up.

"Ah, with us once again Mister Smith?" Gilbert Manes asked him. "Not for much longer. It's a pity for the staff that you had to be so nosy. Now I've had to drain the people here at the Institute for the life force I need. If not for your interference the deaths would have been strangers, people no one would miss! But no, you had to be nosy like Mister Schienfeld! And you will discover what happens to interfering monkeys who find out too much! Johnny! Fielding! Take him to the Dreamweb!"

Burton Fielding and the haggard unshaven ruin that was Johnny Booger moved stiffly towards Roger's gurney. "Fielding! Wake up!" Roger cried. "Snap out of it! He's using the Dreamweb to commit mass murder! He's taken your invention and twisted it! You've got to snap out of it before anyone else dies! You aren't a murderer!"

"It's no use Mister Smith; he can't hear you," Manes shook his head. "He won't even remember you except as a forgotten dream. And don't worry. Soon you won't have any dreams ever again."

Roger Smith recognized the interior of the lab building as he was wheeled down the hall from the infirmary to the Dreamweb by a hypnotized Burton Fielding and a vacant and mindless Johnny Booger. In the Dreamweb control room Marina Ivanovna and Ellen Cody were sitting in chairs, the same vacant expressions on their faces. "I see that you've saved the women for last," Roger sneered. "For someone who claims that humans are a bunch of stupid apes you sure seem to like girls as much as the next man. Did you try it with Nora Pope?"

"I suppose that it is a burden to have so much bad blood within me," Manes admitted. "To be honest, almost five eighths of my heritage is the same as yours and I admit that at times I stray in the direction of the females of your species."

This guy was totally loony. He acted like he wasn't human or something. Still, Roger had to keep him talking; it was his only chance. "You tried to force yourself on Nora Pope and she resisted you didn't she? You had to act fast or she'd blow the whistle on you. You had Fielding test out his Dream Imager and conjured up a monster to get rid of her. It wasn't able to physically touch her but it was capable of driving her insane wasn't it?"

Manes chuckled ruefully. "It took more than one monster I assure you. Five or six in quick succession, and although they could be seen they could only remain solid for just a few seconds. But Fielding has perfected the technology. Today we were able to keep a creature solid for almost an hour!"

"Where's Dorothy?" Roger shouted as Fielding and Booger wheeled him into the transparent circular chamber at the center of the Dreamweb control room. "What have you done with her?"

"You should be worried about yourself Mister Smith," Manes cackled as his mesmerized servants placed suction cups attached to wires on Roger's face. "Soon you will be connected to an intelligence a thousand times greater than your own… right before it devours you. You should have stayed in Paradigm City Mister Smith. Fielding! Activate the Dreamweb! Let the Great One have a taste of Mister Smith!"

My God, Roger thought, he's got the insane cackle down pat!

Roger didn't know how much of Manes story was true but he did know that being attached to the Dreamweb could place him under Manes' control or it would kill him. And Manes was choosing the second option. If only his body hadn't been subjected to near vacuum conditions under the carillon tower; then he would be strong enough to break free of his restraints. Adrenaline was returning his strength but it wasn't enough! Even now he could see Fielding robotically turning the power on. As the machinery hummed to life he could almost see his life flashing before his eyes including a few images he didn't recognize. But mostly he could see Fielding flicking switches, turning dials and pushing buttons. Blood pulsed in Roger's ears at a volume that almost drowned out the electronic hum of the Dreamweb coming to life. "No wait!" Roger cried, his eyes bulging in fear as he struggled against his restraints. "Stop!"

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Roger's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

Next: The Walking Dead