Imperial Military Academy Clinic Morgue
San Francisco 2145
"Come in, Mr Reed. Sit down. Or...", and here the Denobulan smiled broadly. "... perhaps you would prefer to stand."
The smile was very broad. Too broad.
Malcolm wondered if he was some sort of demon. Probably. Regardless, pressed on. "I'm here...I'm here because..."
The demon - Phlox- held up a silencing finger. "Oh no need. I know. EVERYBODY knows. Everybody knowing is half the point, I believe."
Words.
Demon.
Demon words.
Only breath.
Ignore them.
Ignore them or die.
Malcolm tried again. "I need... I need help."
"Plainly you need help," the demon interrupted again. "You are badly injured, and, I possibly becoming ill from your injuries. Peritonitis, if you are very unlucky, which won't survive without help. I'm surprised you are still on your feet, actually - don't get me wrong, I understand why you are incentivised to stand- but I'm still surprised that you are managing it. Perhaps there is more grit to you than there seems to be. I should like to try out some of my inventions on you. Find out."
Demon words.
Mephistopheles.
Mephist-PHLOX-eles.
Mephist...
There were all these eyes on the walls. Watching him out of little formaldehyde jars. And one kidney watching him. And whatever that green thing was.
CONCENTRATE!
One last try. Malcolm took a breath. "I need help. You have help. I have money. You need money."
The demon smiled again. Too wide, again. Mawed. "Very well put. Quite the mind you have there, Mr Reed! And, for appropriate compensation, I am at your service. The question is, however, do you want a band-aid, or do you want a real solution?"
Malcolm's head spun. He couldn't figure out how all those eyelid-less eyes, in the little jars, were managing to blink.
It shouldn't be possible.
Things were very strange in hell.
"It will take quite a bit more than a band-aid, I think," he managed.
The demon sniffed mirthlessly. "You misunderstand me, Mr Reed. What I mean is, that while, yes, I can patch you up, these sort of incidents are going to keep befalling you, unless more radical changes are made."
"I don't understand..."
"The body and the mind are only machines, Mr Reed. And, like machines, they can be modified. A physique can be sculpted. Body chemistry can be optimised. Mental pathways can be honed and corrected to a more pleasing form. Deviant behaviour can be negatively re-enforced until it extinguishes."
Malcolm frowned. "The eyes though, how are they DOING that? How are they BLINKING?"
The demon sighed. "Oh dear. Allow me to simplify. Would you prefer that what has happened to you not happen again?"
"Yes."
The demon nodded, pleased. "Then, are you willing to endure such things as must be endured, in order to mitigate the risk of recurrence, Mr Reed?"
...Some of those eels- but were they eels, or were they intestines?- are definitely alive. They coiled and writhed within their jars. They might be glowing, actually...
"MR REED?"
I want to go home, is what Malcolm thought. I want to go home, and to go back in time, and to disappear.
But what he said was "Yes."
The first syringe slid into him. On the other end of it, the demon whispered. "Then let's begin."
