A noisy dream; that’s all his days and nights were being about lately. And today had been different; it pained and he had to flap his lashes with eyes shut like struggling out of the shell of an injected sleep, striving to slit open the closed halves of his lids. Today was different because the noise of his dream had become real and clearer and was constantly growing louder like hammering him from nearby. Pain! Pain mixed up with his unrest. Felt like someone was pulling him apart into two halves in Anaphase_ natural and mysterious process of nature_ under control yet not under control. He shuddered on his comfortable white bed and a shiver in his lips widened into waved expressions of panic on his face. A suppressed scream followed and came apart his eyes into the world they called was real.
The noises of people; were they men, or women? Were they fighting; or were they laughing? Pain flowed through his veins like it was in his blood and nerves. He shook his head and tried to look at himself chained in a cabin of glass with all those cybernetics looking like monstrous tentacles of science. Science that called itself a cure but was a slow killer to its victims. But didn’t nature do the same? Who cares? He must not shout he must play sense; the projections into his body and everyone being away, yes that was a good time to be uniform without the wires. In a fighting fit he started segregating the bundles of cybernetic implants from himself, “Get off me, Get off me… what are you, bloody life suckers” his hands weren’t cooperative with the brain signals but hope was all he had been left with in that moment. He stumbled down his white bed and the shiver grew up so strong that his remaining physical power couldn’t keep him on his feet. A big thump echoed against the white room walls.
Did they hear him? No, noise could be a good diversion to let important things work sometimes. He crawled towards the window bleached by sun rays. “Alex! That’s not a window” the fluttery voice from his dream whispered to him from somewhere. It was her voice again, there was no voice but it was there, buried somewhere in his head along with a face of an angel. Yes, it was no window but a balcony that opened towards the freedom; no matter how high from the ground, but when there is death dancing in the heads of powerful people, even wingless would try to fly. Like a sunflower he gained some energy seeing the light, pushed open the door with his both hands, and stood on his feet again holding the handles. Right when his head disappeared down the balcony, there was an alarm…
“They broke into a fight… Julia and Randy… He’s got up and… sir…” Some worry was visible on the worker’s robotic face; half deliberately he broke his sentence, swallowed a big volume of saliva and tried to resume his machine tone, “Sir… We are all very active. ACD positions occupied and orders already shot”
David Blake thumb flicked some ash from his cigar and made it sure to hit it against the ashtray corner with care.
“Sir he is injured and vulnerable… just crawling and throwing himself over nearby cloth sheds” The worker number ‘whatever’ paused again to see the large bulk of meat sitting in front of him. His cigar smoke constantly circled around him; he put forth its burning end as a gesture to bring forward the dead scared girls from the corner.
“What were you two beauties fighting for?” he moved eyes over them from head to toe while speaking with utter kindness. Oh Lord, kindness in that moment appeared to them as an absolute relief.
“She took my car keys… daily goes to meet Rio…” Julia had the bold complaint; cut by Randy
“She permitted me herself the other day”
Damn, those women; the workers met eyes with each other alarmed and cautious of the boss’ expected response.
“Give her, her keys Randy, take mine instead” David laughed it off.
“You see…” Julia nearly snatched them from her hand that was half in her pocket.
“You two happy now… it’s good to Go happy” David slide the chair and stood up like a lazy lion, stretching and cracking from awkward places inside him.
Right when the women were meeting their chosen fate, the echoed gun shots brought shiver in Alex’ hands that were making him hang hardly down a piece of balcony shed. The alarms and rushing footsteps had at once become hushed as if recoiling in fear of a probable imagination. The movement had worsen his light pain cramps on abdomen side which had now started to spot red over shirt and the stain was slowly but continuously growing.
He looked down at his complaining wound and left the rod while pushing his body weight towards the wall. With a slower bang, his tall body slipped on the ground in a sitting posture; he kept hand over his red stain and panted voice fully. Then turned towards the door side before the shoes rushed again and pushed his body towards inside to tuck hidden himself from roof view.
“Halt ACD ones, they aren’t needed. Activate B-types for some slow and brainy tracking.” David on the top floor was still calmly giving out the order that moved some of the workers and distressed a couple of others.
“Sir, he is rushing to exit fast… maybe needs a rigorous action to get things under…”
“Let him exercise!” He snapped “He can walk, but he can’t run… let him flutter his wings... but do not let him fly away…. Rushing isn’t needed. Having him believe in his health is important” He smiled his mysterious grin with a mixture of age and evil deadly combined to scatter the charm on him. He jumped over Julia’s non living legs to move closer to Gale, his special worker
“Three days!” He smiled again, this time from one corner of his lips; Gale answered in an affirmative node and turned to the room door cracking open by a new comer.
“Alex Pak is out of our spotlight, sir! Still in building but hidden…” the news drained his charming smile in an instance.
His panting pattern was starting to turn into unconscious breaths and was shaken up by another set of beep alarm.
“Where is he towards…?”
“2nd floor last seen… towards north…”
The distant sounds seemed to be walking nearer. No, no, he again took support of the wall and slowly wiggled himself towards the right balcony ending pillar, sluggishly stepping over the significant window thresholds. Continuously moving he glided an eye towards the vast ground of dying grass that shaded from green to brown towards the end he was preceding. Trimmed to wild, treated to ignored, efficient to tired and alive to dead; that was all it depicted to him; yet dead could be a hope at times especially if life was to be camouflaged in a motionless tone to be saved.
Alex held his wild breath for a while to exhale it in a more conscious and controlled manner, then stepped towards the right of what they had called north. Feet were restless in his chase and had managed to bang open the balcony door but they had been tricked by luck for delaying the bang for a couple of seconds just after the last bit of Alex had taken the turn. While they piled up rough guesses about his blood stain on balcony door handle, he stuck to the wall and kept his gaze fixed on slippery pipe lines going down. To use them as a rope to ground could’ve been deadly like a freefall. He dropped his head down and closed eyes to think. All he had was his clothes and urge. He turned head and while trying to count any visible number of guards, all he could see was a distant NYSO sign standing in air made of glowing wires. “NYSO inc.” his forehead crumbled with lines of thoughts, confusion and slight displease. What was it? He wondered if the girl might again come up from his insides and tell him. No, she wasn’t stupid enough to discuss stupid stuff at such a moment of wall hanging. He shook his head and unbuttoned his top; stood on his feet with a heavy strength, removed and circled the shirt around the pipes roughly to gain some resistance. Glad, his memory might be blurred but his intellect still worked. But wait, did it? He perplexed about the dead land spread vast towards the side, ending into self nourishing bushes and trees and then there were human-less mountains ruled by worms and God knew what kind of death.
What was down there? He kept moving to it, sliding and falling, stopping and slipping… and then running with his heart out of the sense of pain. The movements against him were left behind in the neat white building_ white painted inferno.