His feet trod heavily to the enormous building, under the never-sunny sky. The floodlights on the Temple illuminated him, outlining him in shadow, broadcasting his sins. Wade fully understood; he was to be judged, and if he was unworthy, he would die. And he was unworthy. He could feel the rats chewing on his feet, and picked up his pace.
An arched room, and darkened interior, greeted him. A hushed chant in the rooms beyond where he was, echoed through the lobby. He heard growling, and saw the Paramount soldiers with the Temple dogs on chains, lining the entrance to the Concourse. These guards stopped him, and he was allowed to present himself to the Cardinal.
Cardinal Burgess didn't have a high opinion of Wade, and as Wade was beginning to understand, seemed a little frightened of the prospect of an ex-Paramount soldier without conditioning.
"Well," the little man said, adjusting his glasses. "You've garnered a personal visit with the High Ferrule himself."
"Sir?" Wade swallowed hard.
"Come along, ingrate. We'll find you something more appropriate to wear. You must look presentable!"
So Wade was ushered into a small room off of the Concourse, to wait for his appointment. His heart pounded in his chest.
It was funny, he thought, watching the people scurry about the Temple rooms, that no one truly knows the High Ferrule except the older generation of soldiers, and those in the Cabinet. Wade himself had never seen the man, and didn't know what to expect.
He was lead onto the Concourse. He walked forward into an enormous room, lit up like the outside of the Temple, blindingly hot. Along the crumbling walls, children who had been presented to the church were chanting, repeatedly. It was only noise to Wade. A bower of curtains stood encircling a platform in the center of the room, the lights shining onto the faded fabric. Along the curtains were the Devoted, who stood shoulder to shoulder, protecting the High Ferrule with their lives. Their gray robes swept the floor as they kept a slow beat to the chanting.
And, abruptly, he was inside the bower. Forced to his knees and made to supplicate, Wade's terror only grew.
"This is he?" a crackling voice came from in front of him. Wade was suddenly reminded of fire, burning crisply on the wasteland floor. He stared at his hands, in front of him, touching the dry wood of the bower floor.
"Yes, High Ferrule," Burgess said.
"Leave him."
Burgess hastened to make his departure through the curtains. Wade could feel tears welling up in his eyes, and forced himself to stop, glancing up to get his first impression of the High Ferrule. He stared, unabashedly.
A ghoul! A ghoul, like all of the others he'd rounded up with Sigma, and brought to the Temple. He was as thin as paper, skin browned by the radioactivity of the wastes, wearing a remarkably clean white robe. He sat on a throne made of glass pieces soldered together, haphazardly. At his feet, chained to the floor, sat a small girl in robes, no more than four or five years old. His eyes, whitened by cataracts to the point of occlusion, were staring at him with a bored look.
"High Ferrule," he bowed again, touching his head to the wooden floor. His voice shook in fear.
"Rise, boy," the High Ferrule motioned him, with one hand. "I expect you think you are going to die."
Putting on a brave face, Wade nodded. "Everyone dies, High Ferrule," he said, in a small voice.
"True."
Wade felt the eyes sweep over him. A moment passed, tension mounting. Wade could not keep his eyes off the child at the High Ferrule's feet, her bright green eyes looking at him with fear and apprehension. Was she scared of the High Ferrule? Or was it he? He couldn't tell.
"Wade, was it?" a tumbling crackle came.
"Yes, High Ferrule."
A heavy breath. "Call me sir."
"Yes, sir."
Then the High Ferrule laughed, a weird sound in the bower, flying out into the openness of the Concourse, and the girl began to laugh too. Wade was unnerved, stood, and backed away.
"Oh? Good!" The girl stopped laughing with the High Ferrule, and he sat forward in the glass throne with a rustle.
"Sir?" Wade asked, frightened.
"It is true. Your conditioning won't hold." A crooked smile came over the High Ferrule's face, and he put his chin in his hand, leaning onto his elbow.
"I guess so, sir."
"It's scary, isn't it?" A hand languidly waved in the air.
"I'm sorry, sir?" Wade asked.
"Thinking for yourself, boy!" The hand became a fist and slammed down onto the glass, cracking it.
"I don't know what to think."
"But you do think," the High Ferrule said.
Wade nodded. "I thought that Detroit was not a place where I wanted to stay," he admitted.
"Most excellent," the High Ferrule smiled. "I have an errand for you to run."
"Sir?" Wade raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"I will explain. Are you comfortable?"
"One mustn't rest on one's behind, in the wastes, sir."
The High Ferrule laughed, and his creepy echo laughed along. He patted her head, and pushed himself upwards. With short, shuffling steps, he moved to a cabinet on the right side of the bower, and withdrew something. He moved back to Wade.
"Sir, I would have retrieved that for you," Wade said.
"Don't bother with that, boy. Look."
Wade looked. A piece of metal, shaped like an L-beam, lay on a faded cloth inside of a small metal box. It was about the size of his palm, and generated a soft hum when the High Ferrule picked it up.
"This, boy, is far more important than any single one of Paramount's soldiers." He held the short end by the last three fingers on his hand, in an upside-down way. His index finger and thumb went straight out. Wade could see it looked like a cross.
"What is it, sir?" he asked.
"On its own, this piece is a simple infrasonic thought dampener." The High Ferrule placed it back into the box.
"Like the infrasonic emitter program I found in the ant mounds?" Wade wondered.
"Exactly like that. Which is why I found your skill as a programmer interesting." The High Ferrule put the box away and slowly moved back onto his throne.
"You mean... How I cleaned up the code?" Wade blinked. "Sir, I am not a technician. I may have learned a small amount of programming, but only enough to repair my EK3 display when it needs."
The High Ferrule nodded, absently. "The simple nature of the code allowed me to determine some flaws in the EXILE-8 program. It helped me to understand where I had gone wrong with the infrasonic dampener." He gestured to the cabinet.
Wade, pulling together all the manners that he possessed, said, "I am happy that you found use my skills, no matter how ineffective they are, sir."
"Stop sniveling," the High Ferrule snapped. "I have a problem. The other part of the dampener is missing. In order to utilize the EXILE-8 conditioning program, I need it. You do know that the dampener makes people tractable, yes?"
Wade nodded.
"With the proper conditioning program, and using the dampener, I can produce highly effective soldiers," the High Ferrule said. "Paramount can dominate an area, without much effort."
Wade started to think that he was the bad guy, like Celia had said.
"But, with the second dampener, the EXILE-8 conditioning program can turn any person into an unlimited resource. All subconscious knowledge, all physical skills, any trivial ability could be accessed with a simple command. This creates a superlative soldier, completely willing and ready to serve."
"You're talking about possession?" Wade asked. "Using someone like a hand puppet?"
"On the nose, boy. I want that second dampener. The prototype ISD was designed with a flawed emitter. I want the ISD that wasn't." A happy look came over the High Ferrule's face. "Imagine, Wade. How well could we protect Michigan with soldiers that do no need to feel pain, because they are told not to? Or who can, on a moment's notice, become a field medic, a technician, a programmer? A general who would dig a latrine without complaining, a private willing to walk through an irradiated waste?"
"Is the safety of the people so important, that we could disregard all freedoms?" Wade felt himself emboldened by such free talk.
"When the Resource Wars began, we fought against those who would have forced us into the same chains," the High Ferrule said. "We fought because we had to, and because their ideals were not similar to American interests. Their beliefs were good, but not in practice. We were blinded by our own patriotic enthusiasm, considering that our own ways were best." The High Ferrule laughed, and his echo started up. "And look where that got us."
"But many people in the wastes are living long, full, productive lives," Wade said. "In freedom. Why change that?" He felt horror creeping into his mind. What good could mind control do?
"You're boring me, boy. For some to remain free, others must do their duty." The High Ferrule closed his fist and tapped the arm of his throne. "That is a basic tenet of American society." He made a noise and curled his fingers through the little girl's hair. "Sometimes our duty is unpleasant. I want that ISD, Wade. You will find it and bring it to me. In return, I will grant you a boon."
"What is that, sir?" Wade asked.
"I will give you what I suspect you've wanted since you returned from this Stockton place." The High Ferrule leaned forward and put his hand in his chin again.
"Your freedom."