Other Lives
Another Angle
A scream shredded the silence of the Simulation Lab, followed by the harsh rattling of a chain. Then the threats began. The man in the straight jacket, mad-eyed and raging, fought against the chain that bound him to a wall. He pledged at the top of his breath to destroy everyone for this, to shred the Project, to bring the Triumvirate to its knees, to level the Centre so that not one stick or stone of it could be found. He swore he'd make them pay for capturing him, for keeping him from his family. He vowed swift and terrible vengeance for using him.
Behind the camera that captured all this, a quiet, hollow-eyed old psychiatrist watched. After a long moment, he turned the camera and, taking a deep breath, began. "He's been back in the Centre for three weeks now, and this routine has not broken once. He has been kept in a straight jacket - an admittedly outmoded means of subduing a patient - for his own protection. Any time he's been free, he's attempted to kill himself or any others he's been in contact with. Miss Parker's last visit seems to have calmed him only momentarily. Needless to say, he is being force fed."
The soft Belgian voice gave an audible sigh, and the older man dropped his face into his hands. "He never rests, and even drugged he has no peace from the demons that plague him. His mind is broken, no longer his own. It may be time to - at least consider - mercy."
"Where is my father!" the bound man shrieked.
High up in the Tower, as far above the Sim Lab as the Sim Lab was above the drainage ditch its reluctant inhabitant had been reclaimed from, the Triumvirate considered this footage with appraising, expert eyes.
"It's interesting the damage a little time away from his natural environment can do, don't you think?" observed the tallest member of the Triumvirate in a deep, sardonic voice.
"Strange," said another with wide eyes on the screen the three watched.
"Quite possibly having his thumb removed unhinged his mind," the first observed.
The third spoke in a low, smooth, cold purr. "The rest of the way."
"Oh, don't be cruel," said the first. The conclusion was delivered with a satisfied little smirk. "Let me do it."
"Justice," said the second, reverently.
"Indeed," the other two agreed.
"Are you going to visit him again?" asked the first. "After all, your visits... calm him."
The third gave a dark chuckle. "I might." After a moment watching the footage, the woman turned to the first and said, very seriously, "I recommend against mercy, Jarod. After all, he never showed any."
Jarod considered. "Euthanasia isn't moral," he said. He looked to the second. "What do you think, Angelo?"
The quieter member of the Triumvirate tilted his head, regarding the man on the screen through brightly sparkling blue eyes. "Mr. Lyle... broken," he said. And he smiled.