Chapter 3
"Welcome aboard, folks."
Alan led Ellie and Isaac through the entrance doors and into the main annex of the complex, while Roxy ran excited circles around them.
"Make yourself at home. Oh, and don't mind the mess; it's just the way I like it."
Isaac started looking around at what appeared to be a warehouse, converted into a semi-living space with several large rooms partitioned off via movable steel curtain walls suspended from tracks along the ceiling. The rooms were packed with tools, equipment and other items, some of which appeared to have been left undisturbed in their packaging for a long period of time. It was obvious that the warehouse's main purpose was at some point for large-scale industrial waste processing and materials recycling, but seemingly now in its declining years along with the aging Alan, had become more of a personal storehouse and domicile. What made the place so interesting was the compliment of antique furniture, chotchkies, and knick-knacks, interspersed among the rest of the stock which perfectly offset the otherwise grungy environment. Even the steel walls had been covered over with aged, fading vintage wallpaper, and while poorly patched and out of alignment, still managed to invoke a sense of hominess that held the harshness of the warehouse's intent at bay. It was clear that Alan very much lived how he worked, and as Isaac gawked at the machinery - some of which he recognized to be older than himself - he felt a sense of empathy for the old man.
"Nice place. Lot of interesting stuff you got here."
Ellie looked around as well, but didn't appear to be as impressed.
"Hasn't been updated much since I was last here. You never change, do you?"
A grin spread on Alan's lips, revealing his yellowed, chipped teeth from beneath his dwarfish mustache.
"I'm a creature of habit, you know that."
They stopped in the middle of a large, open area that served as a den, with a pair of red velvet couches, a low-standing, round center table, and an oriental floor rug that had become so layered with dust over the years that one couldn't tell the original colors of the fabric. The sitting area's relaxing ambiance abruptly ended just beyond the edge of the rug, as it was surrounded by stacks of preacriously balanced boxes that lurched above their heads like a block of dilapidated towers threatening to collapse. On one of the walls hung a black beveled, roman numeral wall clock, and to its right a dismally neglected, moth-eaten, and practically petrified head of a deer mounted on a wooden plaque that must have been a century old, covered in dust, with one broken antler and the other completely missing. As he looked around at all the curious oddities that surrounded them, Isaac turned to Alan.
"How long have you been here?"
Alan looked up in thought, trying to reach that far back into his memory.
"Oh, about... what, 25 years now, I think. I started off running a little shop just off of Io, ages ago. That is, before EarthGov came in, shut down mining operations there and starved us out. Well, after that whole thing ended I wound up here, and never left. New Horizons has become home to me. Got everything I need, and if I don't, I send one of my boys out to go get it for me."
"There are other people here?"
"Of course. Can't run this place by myself - who do you think is taking care of that eyesore out there you kids brought with ya?"
While he shouldn't have been surprised that they weren't alone, Isaac's paranoia had hopelessly kicked into high gear. He couldn't escape the memory of what had happened just moments after waking up on the Sprawl, the fact that he had no control over events that somehow he felt personally responsible for. Nor could he shake the perpetual fear that without being able to control it - or even understand it - there was every probability that it would happen again.
The ensuing panic in Isaac's mind must have spread to his face, because Alan's tone suddenly changed.
"... Don't worry. You can trust them every bit as much as me."
In an attempt to encourage Isaac that there was nothing to worry about, Ellie chimed in.
"Hey Alan, so how are Nick and Pete doing? I haven't seen them in years, your boys must be all grown up by now."
"Oh sure. Got 'em working here full time for the most part - except Pete, he's in flight academy these days, so he comes in on and off."
"That's good to hear. I remember last time I saw Pete, he was just talking about going to school."
Alan was about to rattle on about his sons, when the urgency of their situation came back to mind.
"We can shoot the shit later. Let's get you two in the back, and start taking care of those nasty scuffs you got."
He let out a short whistle and Roxy dashed up to his side, following him with an anxiously wagging tail, and together they started off down the hallway toward the back of the building. Isaac and Ellie followed behind, passing by several rooms without doors that were stocked with piles of boxes and partially unpacked components. The overhead lighting throughout the warehouse was uneven, mainly concentrated toward the front of the building, so as they continued down the hall their path became dimmer and dimmer. The deep, thunderous purr of a large machine began to rise throughout the warehouse as they walked. Isaac recognized the muffled vibrating through the floor and walls to be the engine of a MAC crusher, probably stationed outside behind the building.
"Sorry about the lights, folks; I've been meaning to fix those. Watch your step."
They trailed Alan's silhouette down the darkened hallway until they both heard his footsteps drop off, then a brief jostling of keys. A moment later a burst of light appeared to the left, cutting a hole in the darkness to reveal a small makeshift medical clinic on the other side. Alan pushed the door open and walked in, beckoning them to follow.
"C'mon in, have a seat."
He snapped his fingers and Roxy took her post by the side of the door, sinking down on her haunches and watching with large, pining eyes as Isaac and Ellie both walked past her into the room. They looked around the 10'x10' space, noting that it clearly was not designed for much more than a storage room, but had been converted into a medical examination room. A couple of chairs, a rusty, wall mounted sink, an old style exam table, and a few cabinets lining the walls were all that dressed the area's plain, unrelenting whiteness, and the air was stale with the presence of old chloroxylenol and axle grease. Alan slowly made his way toward a rack affixed to the wall in the corner, he removed his work cloak and hung it on the rack, then rolled up the sleeves of his wrinkled, well-snagged oxford shirt. Ellie sat down in one of the two available seats and Isaac stood next to her, watching the old man.
"So you're a doctor, too?"
To Isaac's surprise, Alan shook his head as he washed his hands in the sink.
"Oh, no. Not formally trained, if that's what you mean. I've just learned a thing or two in my time. I can patch you up, at least well enough. No questions asked."
He slipped on a pair of surgical gloves, grabbed a small tray of tinctures and tools, then slowly made his way over to Ellie. He gently gripped her by the chin and began carefully examining the cuts and bruises around her eye patch, while simultaneously reaching into his shirt pocket to retrieve a pair of dirt smeared, pince-nez style glasses.
"My god, girl. You get caught up in some mine shrapnel, or something? You are all cut up."
Ellie didn't say anything, and just sat quietly as Alan continued his examination, dabbing her face with somatic gauze to clean the blood away and induce the healing process. Once he had cleaned her face and neck, he carefully began to run his index finger along the edge of her eye patch.
"Ok, I'm gonna take this off, now. It might sting a little. Can you close your eyelid?"
"I don't know, I can't feel it. I think the whole eye is gone."
"Okay. Hold your breath, dear."
Alan slowly, cautiously began to peel back the bloodied eye patch, seeking to release the adhesive around the outer edge without rupturing the fragile, damaged skin underneath. As he pulled, a trail of blood suddenly seeped out and ran down her face. Ellie winced.
"You okay?"
Ellie squeezed her eye shut and clenched her teeth without a word as the eye patch finally came loose with a gentle snap, revealing the underlying injury. The moment Isaac saw a deep, dark chasm where her eyeball should have been, crying a tiny, fresh trail of blood, his eyes went wide, his jaw loosened and his skin went cold.
"Oh god... does it really look that bad?"
Not realizing that Ellie had been intently watching his reaction, Isaac now tried to appease her, not exactly in the most convincing fashion.
"No... no. It's not that bad. Really."
Ellie's eye nervously darted to Alan, who unlike Isaac, had not reacted with any discernible expression.
"Tell me Alan, how does it look?"
Alan gazed into the bloody, hollow gorge of her eye socket, watching the light glisten off the bone of her exposed skull where there was no skin to cover it. He drew a breath and sighed deeply, sending the mousy hairs of his beard scattering about beneath his nostrils.
"Well, you were right - it's been ripped clean out. Not much I can do but clean the socket, stitch some of the lacerations, set it with a mesh to heal, and re-patch it. If you want it replaced, you'll have to see someone a bit more qualified."
Ellie let out a small sigh of disappointment.
"...Oh."
"But the good news is that there is a doctor here in the colony who can do it. I can give you the address, if you want."
"Oh yeah? How much is something like that gonna set me back?"
Alan scratched his beard.
"I dunno; they've got different ranges, but you're probably gonna be looking at somewhere between 2 to 3 grand."
Knowing she didn't have access to that kind of capital - since Director Teidemann had erased her citizen's record, along with all possible access to any credit accounts she had - Ellie's heart sank in her chest. Isaac watched her every move, even the ones she thought he couldn't see, guessing that he knew what was going through her mind, but he kept silent. Alan then started turning his attention to some of her lesser wounds, removing her old, makeshift bandages, cleaning the skin and replacing the dressing. Once he had concluded his initial examination of her and taken care of her minor scrapes, he then turned to Isaac.
"Ok, let's see how well you fared, friend."
Isaac finally sat down in the chair next to Ellie as Alan straightened his glasses, and started looking closer at Isaac's arm.
"Let's get you out of this suit."
Alan walked over toward the sink, opened one of the cabinet drawers and retrieved a very large, sharp pair of surgical scissors. He then came back, ignoring the paling look on Isaac's face, and placed the blade of the scissors against his shoulder.
"All right, just sit still, I'm gonna cut it."
Isaac held his breath as Alan gently slid the tip of the scissors in through one of the existing holes in the polychloroprene fabric of his Advanced Suit, then started slowly cutting around the circumference of his upper arm. Once the sleeve had been severed from the rest of the suit, Alan pulled it down off of Isaac's arm and tossed it to the floor. He then pulled back the rest of the suit around Isaac's shoulder, exposing the dark, bloody javelin wound. Alan looked at it, and simply raised his eyebrows.
"Hmm."
His gaze then fell to Isaac's hand, and Isaac started unwrapping the gauze bandage until he had fully exposed the hole. Alan could see clear through the perfectly round hole in his palm to the other side, and again he raised eyebrows.
"Hmm..."
"What's that look for?"
"Very clean puncture wounds, both of 'em. Must've happened at close range, whatever it was."
Isaac hesitated, then nodded.
"... Yeah."
Alan paused, then looked up.
"Hmm. Looks pretty deliberate to me. Maybe it was an accident, maybe not."
He took a step back, ignoring the uneasy looks on their faces, trying not to pry in too much on their business.
"Fortunately for you the punctures didn't cause a lot of collateral damage, so it isn't as bad as it looks - or feels. It should heal rather easily."
He placed his fingertips on the top of Isaac's shoulder, and began gently kneading the area around the javelin wound, trying to feel for any fractures.
"It only got the flesh, no bone. Lucky. Might have a couple torn muscles. Nothing of real consequence."
He then reached for Isaac's hand and held it up, examining both sides.
"Might have some nerve damage there, but nothing a somatic gel plug won't be able to fix. Same with the shoulder; I think I can just fill it in and stitch the surface wounds, it should be able to regenerate enough on its own, and you should have full mobility back in about a week. You got any other areas of concern you want me to take a look at?"
Isaac started shifting in his seat; feeling the air against the bare skin of his arm, the desire to rid himself entirely of his suit was growing. He started reaching for the fasteners at his collar and chest.
"I don't think so. Mainly bruising on my side, my back."
"I see. Any head trauma? Back pain?"
"No... just the bruising. I might just have gone numb in my damn hand, though... It was really hurting before. Now, not so much."
Alan nodded, opening a drawer next to the sink to retrieve a hypodermic gel dispenser and some gauze dressing.
"Well, this shouldn't take too long, so let's get your hand taken care of first, before it gets any worse. Ellie'll take a little longer, but I should have you both back up in a couple hours. So Paul, why don't you come on over here to the table."
Unzipping the torso of his suit, Isaac pulled it off with a weary huff and tossed it to the floor. Even through the white t-back shirt he was wearing underneath, Ellie could see deep, dark patches of bruising that blotted the skin along his ribs and sides, and the shirt was soaked in sweat and blood stains. The skin of his arms, chest and abdomen was encrusted with a layer of dried blood that had spread throughout the interior of his suit from various wounds, but Isaac didn't seem to notice it. Reveling in the calm, cooling sensation of the air touching his skin, Isaac slowly rolled his head back, rose to his feet, and sluggishly made his way across the room toward the medical table, all the while feeling an urge to close his eyes creeping up on him. His ears went deaf, his vision blurred, the room darkened all around him.
"Hey, you feeling alright?"
He couldn't hear what Ellie had said as he stumbled toward the table then collapsed upon it, but it didn't concern him. For the moment, in her presence, he felt at peace.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A quiet, repetitive sound rises out of the darkness from somewhere far away. Unable to see anything around him, all Isaac can do is follow it. He stalks carefully through the darkness, trying to detect where the sound is coming from.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He sees a small spark of light - the glow of a red alert beacon, suspended from the ceiling several feet down the hallway. In its faint glow he can barely detect the outline of a doorway, standing open. It seems the sound is coming from this direction, so Isaac presses on.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
He nears the open doorway, and hesitantly peers through it - something inside him prevents him from immediately stepping through. Suddenly, out of the corner of his left eye, he sees the shadow of movement.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound gets louder. The shadow sways back and forth, back and forth, in time to the thick, visceral sound.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Isaac leans in a little further and turns his head. There, at the end of the corridor, he sees a man standing close to the wall. Save for the red beacon there is no other light, and it is difficult for Isaac to see what the man is doing. All he sees is the man's black silhouette, wobbling back and forth.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Compelled to get closer, Isaac starts slowly down the hall toward the man. He's tense, but for some reason has no weapon to brandish in his defense. He can only hope the man either doesn't notice him, or doesn't care. Fortunately, the man does not respond to Isaac's approach, but simply continues wavering back and forth on his knees.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Isaac closes in, and still the man does not stir. He is now close enough to see that the man is not what he expected at all. Half of his torso is missing and the spine is completely exposed, partially distorted and twisted with mutation. From the chest up the body has been cleaved in half, leaving only the right side of his shoulders, neck and head, and the entire body is drenched in blood. The man doesn't appear to be alive, but rather the body is trapped in some repetitive display of involuntary muscle memory, bending at the waist on locked knees and banging what is left of his head against the wall over and over.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Unable to continue looking at the depraved sight, Isaac closes his eyes. The pounding of the man's head against the wall begins to stir the voices, chanting rhythmically to the sound.
make us whole make us whole make us whole
He hears a juicy thud, and he opens his eyes to see the man's body has collapsed to the floor, totally lifeless in a puddle of his own blood. Isaac begins to consider going back, but before he can act on the notion a overwhelmingly bright blue light suddenly blossoms from down the hallway. The light penetrates his visor, blinds and forces him to raise his hands in defense, and he falls to one knee. He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to escape the light's glaring effulgence, when he suddenly hears a deep, melodious roar. It is a frightening but strange sound, one unlike anything he has ever heard before.
through that which has been done reborn we are and act as one
Isaac peeks out through his visor, and sees the silhouette of a man with glowing eyes standing in the center of the aurora. The man raises his arm and appears to be beckoning to him, but inhibited by the intensity of the light all around it the man's visage is blurred and Isaac is unable to make out who it could be. He is certain, however, that it isn't a necromorph, and without any fear he feels inspired to respond.
"Who are you?"
Without warning, his head suddenly becomes inundated by the roaring of a thousand voices all speaking over one another, fighting for supremacy over the space within his mind. He cannot make out words clearly in the rumbling ocean of discourse, but he pieces together random phrases here and there, as each voice spills over into the next.
quantum teletransportation reborn we are and dynamical systems that are highly sensitive to initial conditions we act as one control of the mind psychokinesis without traversing the physical space unification you will know tell us what you know isaac tell us what you know where are you where are you going
He doesn't understand, but something inspires Isaac to listen as closely as he can. Whether it is a message, a warning, or simply dream state jibberish, he feels compelled to comprehend the vision in front of him. For some reason, he suspects that whoever this is, they will meet again.
make us whole make us whole make us whole