Dark City - Clean Room

I wake to an eerie silence. Huh. I’m in paper clothes. That’s not good.

I’m strapped to a few medical devices in a sterile looking bedroom. Some kind of hospital suite. Probably. I’m either in the clutches of the medical system or a very fastidious serial killer. The place is spotless. Except for a small bug-bot that’s scooting about in frantic circles.

You’re awake! You’re awake! says Volt. I’ll get the doctor!

The bug-bot slams into a small button, and my old friend, the veterinary d-bot hologram appears.

“Hello Xan. You’ve had an accident with a sniper rifle, but you’re doing fine now. Well, not exactly fine. We patched up the big fucking bullethole, but you’re still dying of multiple comorbidities. Bullets don’t cure old age. Well, they kinda do, but we’re not quite there yet. Say, how are your mental faculties? Are you taking any of this in? Hello?”

I cough. “Your bedside manner sucks.”

Vet-bot shrugs. “Sorry, most of my patients are non-verbal. Who’s a good girl? You’re a good girl!”

I frown. His simple praise is making me feel better than it should. Guess it’s been a while. I can’t help but flex my shoulder gingerly - expecting a flash of pain - but it’s fine. Maybe a little stiff. Weird.

“How long have I been out?”

22 hours.

Crazy. “How did you fix my shoulder so fast? Where are we?”

Back at Andrew’s place. In a vet suite for the breeding program. And Henry’s tests. The vet scanned your shoulder wound, then 3D printed a patch out of decellularized pig tissue. Then he seeded that scaffold with your own stem cells, and chucked it in a strobing, bubbling, fast cell incubator. Then he stuck it in the bullet hole with cellular glue. It was all very cellular.

“Makes sense I guess. I’m mostly cells.” I keep shifting my shoulder. Can’t seem to help myself. “How glued is it? Will it fall out if I move too fast?”

“I used the standard array of ultrasound and electrical stimulation for fast wound healing.” says Vet-bot. “It’s not going anywhere. Made from your body, now part of your body. Arguably, the best part. Especially since you junked up the rest with No Bleed.”

“Couldn’t be helped I’m afraid.” I give my shoulder a sniff. “Do I smell like bacon?”

No, I made you a sandwich. A couple bug-bots drag a small BLT over to my bed. We had a fair amount of pig left over. Seemed a shame to waste it.

Huh. My tummy informs me that I’m in an ethical conundrum. Or that I’m hungry. Probably shouldn’t waste it.

After breakfast, the vet gives me a full look over. I’ve made decent progress on not dying. Cancer’s still crushed and my skeletal system has perked up. But my muscular regen was stunted by the No Bleed. I’m irritated to learn they filtered it out of my blood while I was out.

“It was killing you.” says Vet-bot.

“It saved me when I got shot.”

“Well, you’ll have to give that up.”

“What about informed consent?”

“That’s doctor shit. Vets don’t ask permission. I’ll either save you or kill you myself.”

Having told me how it is, Vet-bot continues his report to Volt.

“She should respond to the muscle regen now. There’s a chance she may survive. If you can keep her away from snipers and superpowers. Also, I think I can perk those ovaries up. Did you want to breed her?”

The bug-bot gives me a significant look.

“No.”

Let’s not complicate things. Assuming Regen A gets her muscle tone back, what’s next?

“Immune A to flush out her circulatory system. Then Immune B to flush all the damaged cells from her body. But we’re a long way from using that. If we gave it to her now, all we’d have left would be a chunk of shoulder.”

Noted. Let’s grow some healthy cells before we start the purge.

“Good plan. Alrightly then, I’m off.” The Vet-bot hologram turns itself off. That was abrupt. Usually bots hang around awkwardly asking for money. Maybe they turn off when they get paid. I wonder who would have done that? Starting to wonder a lot of things.

“Where’s Soca? Is he okay?”

Upstairs. Sleeping. He’s healthy. Slightly traumatized.

“Where’s the rest of you?”

Out foraging. I burned through a lot of bugs. Had to send the rest out to beef up their numbers. May take a while. Most of the easily accessible electronics have already been consumed.

Great. We finally get offensive capability and it has a massive cooldown. Typical.

I idly pluck at my IV tubes. “How long do I have to stay in the medical suite?”

We can leave whenever. You’re technically the healthiest you’ve been in years.

“Good.” I start detaching shit. I hate paper clothes.

I quickly get dressed, head upstairs, then stand around like a dope. I want to talk to Soca and Henry, but they’re both asleep. Seems rude to wake them. Especially since they probably spent most of yesterday putting me back together.

I guess I’ll wait. Feels weird. Can’t remember the last time I waited on something. Usually just do stuff. I stand awkwardly in the kitchen. What do people do while they’re waiting? Should I think about stuff? Consider some of the decisions I’ve been making?

The proximity alarm has gone off. There’s someone at the front door.

Oh thank god. “Let’s go see who it is!”

I check the home system monitor. There’s a small chimp at the door. Dressed in a flat hat and oversized coat. Cute little bugger. I hustle to let him in. Wanna make a better impression than last time.

“Hi! Come in!” I gasp as I open the door. “I’m Xan, a friend of Soca’s. He and Henry are asleep. Should I get them up? Can I get you anything?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The chimp slowly walks past me into the opulent lobby of Andrew’s house. He scans the 2-story room with glittering eyes. He’s shifting something bulky under his oversized coat.

“Vengeance.”

I back away from the creepy monkey. “Sorry, you want vengeance? I think we have some in the kitchen. I’ll go get it.”

He gives an ear piercing shriek and throws off his coat. He’s cradling a scorched metal tube that’s leaking fire. I bolt for the kitchen as he ignites the house with a huge greasy ball of fire.

Smoke and maniacal laughter chase me down the hall. There’s a worn out rifle on the kitchen table. It’s a piece of shit, but it’s loaded. I’m almost there when I collide with Soca running the other way.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Monkey with a flamethrower!”

“Did he have a monocle?”

“No.”

“Huh. That’s unexpected.”

“Were you expecting a monkey with a monocle to burn down your house?”

“Yes. I wonder who this guy is?”

There’s another explosion of flame accompanied by a roar of manic trash talk.

“LIFE IS NASTY, BRUTISH, AND SHORT!! AND SO AM I!! AH HA HA HA!!!”

Soca deflates slightly. “Shit. I know who that is. We should get the gun.”

Henry’s already in the kitchen when we run in. “What’s happening? Is it Nietzsche?”

“No, it’s Hobbes.”

“Ah… fuck. That’s not good either.”

“He’s got a flamethrower. The whole house is going up.”

“Shit. I gotta wake up Andrew.”

Soca nods and picks up the battered rifle. “I’ll distract Hobbes.”

“Watch out for Nietzsche.”

Socrates cocks the slaughter gun with a sharp double click. “I’m always watching out for Nietzsche.”

The boys break off in opposing directions. I’m torn. Soca’s going to fight and Henry’s can barely walk and both are running into a burning building. I want to wrap both in bubblewrap, but that doesn’t appear to be an option.

Soca’s already gone, but the slower Henry notices my indecision. “Quit fussing, Xan. Go help the boy.”

Right. I take off after Soca. A few bug-bots follow me out of the kitchen.

Should you be running towards the flamethrower?

“Quit fussing, Volt. Go help Henry.”

Right. The bug-bots beetle off in the other direction.

I catch up to Soca peering into the smoke choked lobby. “Is he still in there?”

“I dunno.” says Soca. “If he is, we may be done. Unless he brought scuba gear.”

“He did not.”

We listen as the flames roar. The hallway gets smokier.

“What are we doing?”

“I dunno.” admits Soca. “We should be looking for him or leaving. But if we do either he may pop out and blast us.”

“You think he lit the house on fire so he could bushwack us when we run out?”

“It’s what Nietzsche would do.”

“Shit.” The hallway gets thicker with smoke. We’re on a bit of a deadline here. A thought occurs. “What the fuck are we doing? We have a drone. Hey Volt - do you see Hobbes?”

No. I’m in the basement with Henry. Want me to come up and look?

“What’s Henry doing?”

Slapping the shit out of an old guy.

“Can you help him?”

I don’t see how.

“Fine. Leave one bug with Henry, and use the rest to look for Hobbes.”

Okay.

I turn to Soca. “He said okay.”

“Great.”

We try to wait quietly, getting lower and lower to avoid the scorching smoke. This is the second time I’ve waited today. Still don’t like it.

“What’s taking so long?” asks Soca. “Are the bugs slow or is Volt just shit at finding monkeys?”

“Probably both. Are we ready for Plan C? Wanna jump out a window?”

Soca frowns. Takes a long moment to think. “There’s a patio on the roof. Let’s check things out from there.”

We scramble upstairs, relying on unpredictable idiocy to keep us safe. Probably should have gone slowly, with alert stealth, but it was too hot and smoky. If Hobbes plans to ambush us upstairs, then we’re toast. But why would he expect us to climb higher in a burning building? Will he predict that level of self sabotage?

He did not. We get to the roof safely. Another win for idiocy. I find one of Volt’s bugs circling the patio.

“What are you doing?”

I have no idea.

“I found him.” hisses Soca.

He points down to the backyard. Shit, there he is. Waiting with his flamethrower pointed at the back door. What a little fucker.

Where is he?

“Behind the tree.”

Where’s the tree?

“Volt, uh… be quiet for a second.” I turn to Soca. “What’s the plan?”

“I’m going to distract him.” He raises the rifle. “By blowing his head off.”

He gives me a challenging look. I shrug. “Fine by me. Fuck this monkey.”

Soca nods, lines up the shot, and waits. And waits.

Still waiting.

“What’s happening?” I whisper.

“I dunno. I’m not trained for this. Did you know they make snipers watch videos of heads exploding with their eyes taped open?”

“I didn’t. Just shoot him already.”

“Right. Give me a second.”

I give him sixty.

“What the fuck?”

“I dunno! I can’t do it! My eyes won’t stay open. I’m too sweaty. Fingers won’t move. The gun is oily.”

“Fuck’s sake, Soca. Give me the goddamn gun.”

Soca hovers apologetically as I line up my shot. “I’m sorry, Xan. I thought I was just pretending, but maybe I really am a nice monkey.”

“It’s fine. World needs more nice monkeys. I’m about to help the ratio.”

My perfect nightvision makes aiming a snap. I can see Hobbes’ face scrunched up in rage. Or is it fear? Looks like he’s crying.

“What’s happening?” Soca whispers.

“Sorry, I keep blinking. Must be the smoke. Hey, do you have one of those sniper videos?”

“No.”

“Nevermind. Just hold my eyes open.”

“Are you having a hard time committing murder?”

“No. It’s the smoke. I’ve killed loads of people.”

“Here? Or in a dream game?”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“I guess we’re both just kind children.” muses Socrates. “Horny, anxious, kind children.”

“This gun is very inaccurate. It’s tactically unsound to give away our position by firing wild.” I turn away, shaking my head. Address Volt. “Tell Henry that Hobbes is around back. He and Andrew should peel off in the truck. We’ll hook up with them later. Make sure he checks the truck for bombs before he starts it.”

He doesn’t know how to do that.

“Jesus…” I pinch my brow. “Fine, fuck it. Just start it up then.”

Soca looks at me with concern. “Should you go down and check the truck for bombs?”

“I don’t know how either. I just expected better from Henry.”

“Maybe Henry shouldn’t take the truck.”

“Can he outrun a monkey with a flamethrower?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

We watch Hobbes until the truck peels out, and the sobbing pyro monkey tears off after it. He’s definitely faster than Henry. We scoot down a trellis and ghost into the night.

Goddammit. I liked living at Andrew’s house.