Judgement – Chapter 6

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of the author:  Soumyo Mandal

Note on the author : Born and brought up in Calcutta, got my finer instincts while I stayed during the wild years in Bangalore, I look to crack jokes in the most serious moments, and mostly it backfires. Big fan of Liverpool FC, Boston Celtics, indie music, Orhan Pamuk/Stephen King and improv or comedy in general. Currently residing in Orlando near Disney World, but regretting not being a kid no more.

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Chapter 6

How cold is the uncle?

 Silence. Apart from the tick tock of the clock, there was not a sound. Kwon was interacting with the latest subject, earlier. But for the first time in his life he is really scared. He is tired, withered. Who is to stop him if he jumps from the balcony into the water fall. His years as a marine and then as a FBI agent, taught him a combination of toughness and as well as to always keep his mind open and look for the right moment. But he’s been looking for that moment for 25 years! He cracked a wry smile and looked at the surveillance camera at the corner of the room. Rusk Thelmes was a little startled.

It’s been so many years since Rusk Thelmes saw his father’s dead body. Even now the sound of rain, and the smell of chemicals, brings back the memories of the fateful night. While Rusty Thelmes, was immersed with his work, Rusk was terribly proud as his father always used to say “I am trying to change the world, but you WILL change the world. Don’t look at the stars my son, look within the world, a lot needs to be done to alter the human instincts.” Rusk was never close to his mother, Melissa. After the first few years of marriage, Rusty got very involved with work, and Melissa could notice the whisperings and rumblings, receiving of a package occasionally, when her husband will just stay at the lab till days.

Once upon a time Kwon was in love. After his first tour to Afghanistan, Kwon came back to Rusty’s place. He was young, and Melissa was lonely. This went on for years, and young Rusty walked into them once, but then his mother sat him down and explained “she’s doing a project with Uncle Kwon just like dad, and this needs to be a secret as all of dad’s projects are” Kwon was a bit uncomfortable with this situation, but young age and lust took over his conscience. And then lust turned into love. This “love” for Melissa turned out to be his biggest vice of all. Despite knowing about this affair for years, Rusty was unperturbed. For him it was an eventuality, but not for young Rusk, who grew older and wiser with a fierce anguish against the world and especially his Uncle Kwon and his mom. “Then came the fateful night where his dad died because of an accident in the lab. Coincidentally Kwon was there when it happened. He watched with his very eyes, how the red chemical in the test tube tumbled against the glass and as Rusty leaned closer to examine it, it vaporized and “consumed” him! Unsurprisingly the predicament did not bother Melissa. She seemed freed from the shell of her own doing, and she promised Kwon that she will sell Rusty’s belongings and promised to get rid of every trace of the lab and it’s godforsaken chemicals. Within days she was dead, then Kwon knew, that the hollow abyss in Rusk’s expression was not stoical or indifference, rather it was of a resolution to avenge his father by taking his mother’s life and who ever else comes his way.

 

Kwon was lost in translation for what seemed like forever, when a gentle knock on the door broke his trance. “Come in” Kwon’s voice crackled. Varnia, walked in and smiled at him. “Ready to meet the boss?” she said. Kwon nodded. Once they stepped out in the corridor devoid of Rusk’s prying eyes, Varnia whispered “your training served me well, everything is going according to the plan.”  Kwon sighed “It better!  I did not give half my life in Mwallisso22 and recruiting you for nothing! This is about keeping the United States of America safe, this is about judgement no matter the cost!” He closed his eyes, knowing for the first time in a long time he is lying to himself.

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Next author is Nithya Sreenivasan. All the very best , Nithya 🙂

Race against immortality – Chapter 3

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of Author : Amutha R

Note on Author : Living at the moment with no great future plans, obsequious sometimes, learning from life experiences, helpful and always happy to make others happy

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As AA advanced, checking every passenger, Nirvaan raised his head with his face showing no trace of the fear. He began to look around trying to find an alternative that would gain him some time. Nirvaan noticed that AA takes a second extra at some. He again stopped at French beard person, who this time looked at Nirvaan and signalled him to come stand beside him.

Thanks to government systems for the fact that people working for the government were allowed to take an attendant, albeit the term used was companion. Vidyush made use of this privilege after a long time. Moment AA passed them; Nirvaan looked at him and said “Thanks”.

Vidyush, “It’s been quite a while since I helped somebody”. The world seemed to run on auto pilot these days with hardly anyone having time to connect with their fellow beings.

Nirvaan asked,” How did you know?”

Vidyush replied “You slipped your hands into all your pockets. Then your restless gander at AA, made me guess”.

In the silence that ensued, each was lost in one’s own thoughts.

“I am Vidyush and you are?”

“Nirvaan”

”Where are you going?”

“I’m heading to Vivaio, to a plant nursery called ‘Help me breathe’. I like pampering them” after a pause “so, what do you do?”

Vidyush continued in a low voice, “I’m a warrior”. Nirvaan sighed with a small giggle “that word is two centuries old”.

“And how do you say that?”

“I read literary books from Markland library. I work at Markland for.. (Pause) I can say I sometimes live there and sometimes at schlafsaal”. Markland is the place for war survivors, situated near the city’s war memorial. Vidyush was surprised to see hear his multifarious life exposures; a parallel thought of whether it was a bowl of broccoli or chocolates for Nirvaan, and said, “You can learn a lot at Markland. Next time when you visit, convey my regards to Veran, my old partner”.

As the conversation continued, Vidyush felt the temperature inside the express was quite comfortable, that made him shed his jacket. Nirvaan noticed a sachet fall out on Vidyush’s lap while he took off his jacket. Nirvaan enquired about it, as he was curious. Vidyush offered him few more and said “Entrée’ pills”. Meal replacement pills, meeting minimum calorie, protein and vitamin requirements, were in use among armed forces, which will help boost their energy during attacks or rescue operations.

Though Nirvaan was hungry enough to grab one, he refused. By then a few more passengers had alighted and the duo proceeded to occupy the vacated seats.  Quantum express was fitted with food shoot tubes that shot food to the passenger in a click of a button under the seat. Vidyush arranged for a meal to Nirvaan as he was not sure if the pill would be satisfying. As time flew by their chat was disturbed by a recorded voice.

“Kind attention passengers, the next stop is Terroir”

Vidyush wanted to take Nirvaan along and promised that it would take just half an hour at terroir and they can go to Vivaio together. Terroir was new to Nirvaan. People are busy moving around as it was a weekday morning. Walking on the footpath covered with solar panels as shades, there were too many things to notice; monitors playing advertisements, body spare parts unit, models put for display, flying cars on the road, virtual birds tweeting only around kids to attract them, emergency call points with white cross on red tattooed robots, sounds of footsteps as people stepped on solar panels placed intermittently in the footpath and pure air packets for sale.

After about half a mile Nirvaan’s nostrils caught the whiff of fresh ripe grapes. Vidyush recalled Nirvaan’s interest towards plants and thought he should visit here; vineyard. Nirvaan lit up with energy in seeing the long wide field throwing lively green all over, all tight muscles all over the body which was tied up till now, loosened.  “woooohooho…I love this place”.

“Land, nature, water and human always share a deep bond”

Nirvaan’s happiness yielded more zeal in Vidyush. Vidyush would visit this place only when he feels alone and when work gave him a break. Nirvaan jumped in to the yard, moving fast along the path left for field robots, trying to touch buzzing plant imager above the head, flicked a beautiful ripe grape from collector tray and popped it into his mouth. Machine farming was at lesser intensity as like-minded people gathered on the field.

Fibots known as field robots stopped whenever there was human or object intervention. “Hehey, you caught me”. Hang time, the time the fruits spend on the vine, was over for grapes as it was already late September and Fibots were on the job. Vidyush called out for Nirvaan to stop running and stay on the designated path, though his heart was stopping from stopping him.

Vidyush, “Guess, I should loosen up too” and started running to hug fresh air. Little away from grape multi grade conveyer belt station, Nirvaan hopped from one row of vine to another. Seeing Vidyush closer, Nirvaan giggled with a scream and started running faster making Vidyush the catcher. Vidyush was happy like in his youth.

A sudden flash of a memory from 2060 struck his mind. What made Vidyush recall that memory? Was that when he was this happy?

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Next author to be nominated soon

Plethora of freedom – Chapter 4

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of the Author : Ashwin Arun

Note on Author: Likes well crafted sentences. Thinks that he might just hate puns although not really sure how he feels about them. Oh! and long live the Oxford comma.

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Chapter 4

Just another day

Inspector Dijkstra stood in middle of the dank cell that had not more than a day ago, been the residence of former district magistrate Sara A Birdwing. All around him, forensic personnel were scurrying about, methodically investigating every square inch of the cell desperately seeking clues as to what might have caused the flooding. The case was nothing if not bizarre. Any rational person would say that the water should have seeped through the door hinges and cell’s windows to the corridors but oddly enough it appeared to have been contained within the cell, as though by some sort of force field that only gave away when the warden opened the cell door from the outside. Secondly, where had the water even come from? There were no major pipelines in that area of the building. Finally, Sara had been found lying unconscious despite evidence suggesting that she must have been deprived of oxygen long enough to kill any human being. The doctors at the local municipal hospital had diagnosed her condition to be comatose with no evident higher brain activity.

Dijkstra had suspected something odd was going on with Sara ever since he had found her that night at that store with a gun in her hand. She hadn’t stolen anything. Her gun wasn’t even loaded. She just stood there … waiting to be caught. What made her do it? What could make a decorated judge risk everything? Was she being coerced?  Why did she not tell him if that were the case? After all the years the duo had spent side by side making the city a safer place, he’d have thought she could have at least considered asked for his help. Perhaps, somebody else was being threatened and Sara decided to take the fall. Whatever it was, she had never told him.

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Meanwhile, Ox had found his way back to his laboratory at the foothills of the Redstone Mountains. This was a rather remote area, a long way from any known human settlement which made it an ideal location for Ox to conduct his experiments. He placed the bottle containing Sara the butterfly inside a small glass chamber which appeared to be part of an apparatus containing several solenoid coils, two tiny cathode ray guns pointed at the glass chamber, and surrounded by an array of electronic sensors.

“Alright then! Let’s see” he muttered, “Vital signs are normal. Brain activity seems to be multiplexed and in synchronization with subject’s base EEG. Sensory responses are within acceptable norms. Excellent!”

“Hello Sara”, he looked at her, “How do you feel?”

Sara could see her brother or whatever version of him that her compound eyes would construct. She seemed to be able to hear him as well.

“That’s odd”, she thought “Do butterflies even have ears?” she had never thought about it. “Surely they can’t speak now … or can they?” she had seen too many strange things recently to be certain of anything. So she tried to speak anyway.

“I’m not sure how I feel. How I’m even supposed to feel.” it was an odd sensation. She could hear her voice out loud as if it were spoken but of course, she wasn’t really speaking now … was she?

“I do suppose there isn’t a baseline for how humans in butterfly bodies must feel”, he laughed “It must be strange. But don’t worry, I’ll have you back in your human body soon enough.” Ox said, “The apparatus around you can read and process vocal signals from your neural activity. It then matches the frequency of your human body’s larynx and activates these speakers. This way, as long as you’re in the chamber, we will be able to communicate”

“Uhm … ok”, she said, a little confused but really wasn’t in the mood for an explanation, “So… what now?”

“We wait”, he said calmly, “and hope your friend Dijkstra gets the message. I couldn’t have made it more obvious for him”

“He will. He’s a smart one. Although, are you sure, all of this is wise?”

“Of course I am. I’ve never been sure of anything more in my life”

“Billions of people will be affected. Do you not believe in free will?”

“Sure, I also believe in unicorns and huldufólk.”

“I’m being serious”

“Do you really believe that free will even existed to begin with? Humans have always been slaves to their circumstance. A victim of unstable chemical reactions in their brains. I merely aim to enlighten them of their condition. Once the inevitability sinks in, they will become more productive citizens. Surely you know a thing or two about accepting inevitability from your time in prison. I’m doing them a favor”

“I still think there might be a better way”, she wasn’t convinced but there wasn’t much she could do being a butterfly and all.

“I know you do”, He smiled “Everything is going to be ok”

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Dijkstra walked up to his window. He could see the hospital across the street.  As he was looking, the red neon signs from the hospital seemed to twist and elongate to form three numeric symbols.

2 1 8

Dijkstra rubbed his eyes in disbelief. It took him a moment to realize that what he was seeing was indeed there and not merely a figment of his imagination. What did that mean though? Was it some kind of message? He felt something moving in his pocket. His magnetic compass was whirling furiously. When he picked it up, it stopped, not facing north as compasses usually do, but 60 degrees south of the hospital. They were relative angular co-ordinates with his office as the point of reference. He didn’t know where they led. He had to find out. He put on his coat, grabbed his hat and just as he was about to leave, turned around to see the hospital once again. The message had disappeared.

“Just another day!” Dijkstra sighed sarcastically as he started his car.

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Next author to be nominated soon

Judgement – Chapter 5

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of the author:  Tania Mallik

Note on the author: A Hilsa raised as a Bombay Duck, Tania’s love for reading and writing is matched only by her longing for Hilsa and Bombay Duck. Nothing gives her more joy than watching Tarantino movies, seeing Cersei blow up the sept and consuming abandoned leftover alcohol. And when she’s not selling overpriced corn to hapless dukandars in Indore, she likes to spend her time recommending Mohsin Hamid to friends.

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As the van made its way to Risok Lab, Kwon’s mind wandered back to the day he was visiting Monteplier to meet his brother Rusty and his wife Melissa. It was a similar dark gloomy day.

 

As the car sped down the highway, Kwon was mortified as he scanned the files sent to him about his latest secret mission. The cover page read: “Olev Youzhny” with a picture of a face that he recognised very well. “A Russian agent born in Berlin during the Cold War. His mother Anya used to be a ballerina at the Bolshoi Theatre before meeting his father Sergie – a chemistry student – at a grand ball in Moscow organised by a common friend. Post a brief courtship, the couple married and moved to Berlin. Sergie wanted to pursue his doctoral degree in chemistry at the Max Planc University while Anya started teaching ballet at the local school. Two years later, they had a baby boy whom they named Olev. A deeply religious man, Sergie felt grateful for the blissful life he shared with his wife and son until one evening when he stumbled upon a letter from an anonymous source. A trap was laid by the CIA and it was revealed to Sergie that his beloved wife was in fact a spy who worked for the Soviet Union. Her alliance with Sergei was seemingly planned to enable her to move to Berlin in order to carry out a secret mission. Filled with rage and betrayal, Sergie had a violent confrontation forcing Anya to give up her charade. Anya was captured and executed by the CIA. The same night, the CIA covertly made a flight arrangement for Sergie and his one year old son, Olev to Monteplier to protect them from any danger. A legend was crafted and two new identities were created. Thus began Sergie’s new life – a widower teaching chemistry at the Monteplier University named Eric Thelmes who lived with his baby boy Rusty Thelmes.

 

Four years later, Eric remarried- this time a Korean-American journalist based out of Monteplier. A year later, the couple had a son named Kwon Thelmes. The two boys grew up in the same household. While the elder one was a prodigy with a scientific bent of mind, the younger one was tall, athletic with a knack for solving investigative cases. Rusty went on to pursue a degree in neuroscience while Kwon joined the FBI. Sometime in the final year of bachelors, Rusty was given an opportunity to intern at a renowned pharmaceutical company in Berlin by Boris Mitrokin who headed the organisation’s research division. The work progressed swiftly, and the boy was invited for a conference in Moscow. There, he met a stranger who identified himself as KGB operative. Young Rusty was presented with a concocted version of his past, his real name and information about his mother of whom he knew very little of. The boy was asked if he was interested in using his technical prowess for a greater cause. Disillusioned by the revelation of his lineage, the boy offered his consent. The KGB training started soon after – Olev would travel to Lennigrad once a month wherein he was taught cryptography, trained to evade surveillance and acquainted with ways to retrieve package from concealed locations. After a successful training programme and completion of his neuroscience project, Olev was sent back to the US as a neuroscientist to work for the Monteplier Government. Unlike other “illegals” planted by the KGB, Olev already had an identity in the US as Rusty Thelmes. The mission was to develop a series of mind-altering drugs as a counter attack technique to deal with American spies and prisoners – the most important being a loyalty-test drug”

 

The train of thought was suddenly interrupted as the driver slammed the brakes and the van came to a sudden halt. Kwon realised they had arrived at the destination. He alighted from the van and proceeded at a brisk trot in the direction pointed by the official. The soil was wet as a result of incessant rains. As he reached the end of the twisted slippery walkway, Kwon looked up at what seemed like a balcony standing atop a waterfall. He stood there, momentarily awestruck by the architecture – the design was in such perfect harmony with the natural surroundings that the building could easily go unnoticed to a passer-by. Kwon was escorted down the stairs to the drawing room where a young lady waited for their arrival.

 

Varnia extended her hands, and greeted Kwon with a warm smile “Good Afternoon Officer Thelmes, my name is Varnia , I work here at the Risok laboratory as a teaching assistant. We are so thankful that you agreed to help us”.

 

Kwon shook her hands in hesitation but before he could respond, Varnia cut him short by saying, “Would you like to drink something or rest may be? It’s been a long day for you.” Kwon was tired but he was too anxious to be able to rest. He agreed for a cup of tea and the two sat by the side of the fireplace as Varnia continued the conversation. She praised him for his years of service at the FBI. She also elucidated her work at the Risok Lab- her publications and some mind boggling findings. While the sweet smell of chemicals and the internal apprehension disturbed Kwon, the warmth of the young lady seemed to distract him from his thoughts – not to mention he was impressed with the repertoire of work done by the lady at such a young age.

 

The clock struck 7 pm. Kwon barely realised that they had been chatting for almost two hours. The rains were pouring like torrents. Kwon felt vulnerable for the first time in his life. Finally he put forth the question that he had been wanting to ask for a while now, “I still don’t understand, why am I here? “

 

Varnia forwarded a file across the table. It detailed a few articles on human brain and the behaviour exhibited by humans under different circumstance. Varnia informed that the project involved understanding the human psychology by asking a series of questions and analysing the interviewee’s response to the same. The interviewees included four inmates from Mwalisso 22 each convicted in unique controversial cases. According to Varnia, if there was anyone who knew how to elicit the responses by asking the most apt set of questions, it was Kwon who had spent years at the Mwalisso 22.

 

The next four days, Kwon and Varnia sat through the interviews each day as they questioned, observed and analysed the behaviour of each inmate. Each interview was followed by an hour long discussion between Varnia and Kwon on the morality of the act, the criminal angle, human conscience, cognition etc

As productive as the discussion seemed to be, Kwon simultaneously felt a sense of uneasiness. The stories of the inmates vaguely reminded him of something buried in the recess of his mind but he could not really decipher. Each prisoner was incarcerated for a heinous crime which either involved murder of innocent people, betrayal of family, disobedience of high ranking official, treachery or corporate espionage. He wondered what one should do when a person is faced with circumstance involving moral choice. What is right? What is wrong? Why is the “right” thing the right thing to do? The subjectivity of morality.

His mind once again went back to the encounter with his brother Rusty Thelmes at Monteplier back in 2015 .

In the aftermath of the fateful night , Kwon carried the corpse of his brother who said to have died under mysterious circumstance- most likely from inhaling a toxicant released as a by-product during the synthesis of an API at his laboratory. Melissa wept uncontrollably but what bothered Kwon was the sight of the 8 year old Rusk who was looking on at the corpse of his father without batting an eyelid. The sight was still etched in his mind. There was something deep and mysterious in those eyes.

Kwon wiped his face and noticed the surveillance camera in the room for the first time. It was at an odd position. Was there someone observing him behind the camera?

Little did Kwon Thelmes know that it was he who was in fact the prime subject of the experiment and the inmates he was interviewing were merely the stimulator.

Rusk Thelmes felt a sense of triumph as he observed Kwon from the surveillance room. He was happy with the progress of the experiment.

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Please read the next chapter here

 

 

Judgement – Chapter 4

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of the author:  Vikas Singh

Note on the author: Blogger, Satirist, MBA, almost an Engineer, wannabe stand-up comedian. Now sells breakfast cereal. Extremely conscious of his Adam’s Apple.

You can read more on his blog here

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Chapter 4

One Hundred and Ninety Nine Red. One Green.

About five miles from Risok stood a dilapidated old building which was once a church: the largest in the Parish. The building had clearly seen better days. One of the gates in the main entrance came unhinged when the driver of one of the trucks transporting the furniture to the new church failed to read the message printed on his own rear view mirror: objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. The spire had tiles falling off at a rate matched only by the speed with which the moss had now plastered the side walls. The courtyard was covered with knee high Parthenium. The place appeared haunted. Yes, even God himself had fled the Church. Hence, it was the ideal venue to house one hundred and ninety nine thugs, arsonists, murderers and innocents, and one ex-serviceman who sat with his head in his hands at the back of a military truck with armed sentries on either side.

As the trucks rolled into the compound and onto the knee high Parthenium, the sentries undid the safety on their guns: just in case. One by one, one hundred ninety nine inmates and an ex-serviceman, who now had his eyes fixated on the unhinged gate on the main entrance, got off and were made to stand in two queues with a sentry making up the front and rear of each. For a vast majority of the inmates, it was the first glimpse in a long, long time of a world that they once used to live in: breeze, sun, open skies, trees and a boundary wall only 2 foot high. Buffy, the savage, hadn’t felt this much elation in years! In fact he didn’t even remember what elation felt like. Accused of murdering his promiscuous wife and her twenty-two year old lover (and duly gouging out their eyes, hence the name Savage) he had spent the last fifteen years of his life in prison; the last five at Mwalisso22. He did contemplate turning around and running off at a tangent at the rate of knots, but in burst-fire-mode Carbines these days fired seven bullets at almost a thousand metres per second. And so he stayed put.

There were exactly a hundred and twenty two shabbily, and hurriedly, arranged mattresses for the two hundred inmates: luxury. Buffy, the savage, this time, did run off at a tangent at the rate of knots and took into possession the largest of them all, right under the only window inside the Church. ‘Food will be served in the next thirty minutes’, yelled the Supervisor. ‘No funny business or my men and I will not hesitate to shoot the first mother-fucker who creates nuisance’. Buffy, the savage, didn’t care about food. He hadn’t had a bed, or a window since the day he took revenge on his philandering wife. ‘Food can wait’, he thought, ‘let me catch up on some sleep’. A few paces ahead, lay the private praying room which once doubled up as the chambers of the Head Priest. For today, though, this room would house Kwon. As the sentry guided him inside, he gave Kwon a sympathetic he-made-me-do-in look, pointing to the Supervisor who had his eyes fixed firmly on the two.

The room was a ten by ten, with a solitary rocking chair occupying half the floor area. The movers had forgotten to take it along when the other furniture was being shifted. As he sunk into the chair, images of thousands of prisoners that he had personally packed in like sardines, in trucks like the ones that brought him here, flashed though his mind. He felt extremely anxious, helpless, and for the first time in his life, mortal. Is this how it felt to be on the other side? Is this the tremor a stupefied deer experiences when it sees a pair of headlights approach? Is this what his brother, Rusty, felt on that fateful night?

‘The subject is a Montpelier based agent known only by his initials, R.T. His exact whereabouts are unknown, but it’s almost certain that he is an underground operative for the KGB. He is a neuro-scientist of some kind who is testing a drug that essentially undoes and opens for reprogramming the part of the brain that induces the feeling of loyalty. In the past two weeks, there have been instances of three insubordinations within the army ranks in Boise, Madison and Denver. All three soldiers belonged to the same city: Montpelier. Their modus operandi was the exact same: shooting the Brigadier of their respective units in the head with their service revolvers in front of the entire platoon, and then shooting themselves through their mouth! It’s almost certain that R.T is behind this. Your mission is to locate and eliminate R.T and retrieve the formula for the drug’.

‘Please have your food sir’, said the sentry, as he slid the plate from under the door towards Kwon. Kwon wasn’t particularly hungry, but eating was certainly a welcome distraction from the ghosts of his past. The bread was fresh, but dry. The soup tasted a little funny. ‘Par for the course’, thought Kwon.

‘Yes!’ exclaimed Kwon! The secret Secret Services was being considerate, he thought. Having spent almost all his life in Iraq and Afghanistan, any assignment back in the States was definitely a welcome change. That the location of the next assignment was Montplier, his hometown, was a windfall! While his commitment to the cause of his nation never gave him time to start a family of his own, he really looked forward to meeting his brother Rusty, who worked in the Neuro Sciences department at Montpelier Govt. Hospital, his lovely wife Melissa and the person he loved the most in the world: their only son: Rusk.   

‘It’s time’, said the Supervisor. It indeed was, realized Kwon. He had been daydreaming for two hours. The leftover bread was almost black. The soup, however, was now completely green. ‘Strange’, he uttered.

To his utter surprise, the hallway of the Church was now deserted. Only about fifteen minutes ago, the last of the batches of the one hundred and ninety nine thugs, arsonists, murderers and innocents was shipped to the basement of the Risok Lab Facilities where they were supposed to undergo some tests. As he was escorted to a solitary van parked in the courtyard, right in front of the unhinged gate, Kwon couldn’t help but notice some hundred odd red coloured plastic packets littered everywhere. ‘Risok Lab Facilites’, read the stamp on the one he picked up.

The van sped away on the highway, leaving these packets where they were: in the courtyard of a deserted-once-again church. Kwon had been wrong on two accounts. First, the packets weren’t a hundred odd: they were exactly two hundred. Second, not all were Red.

Exactly one out of the two hundred was green.

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The next author is Tania Malik. All the very best, Tania 🙂

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Please read the next chapter here

Plethora of freedom – Chapter 3

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of Author 3 : Arjun Charles

Note on Author 3 : I put letters, words and sentences to satisfy personal ego and glorify recent experiences.

You can read his blog here

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Chapter 3

Garden of thorns

“Fucker’s finally opening his eyes.”

The pain had mutated and travelled from the back of his head to his right thigh. Eyes spinning and flickering, he could make out the hilt of a knife – the sharp edge of which was sticking in the thigh. He looked around. He was sitting on a wooden chair, his hands tied in front with rope. He was in a tarpaulin tent. He was naked except for his loincloth. He turned towards the source of the abuse.

“By the beautiful Hibiscus on my eyepatch! The great Ox seems to be in a spot right now!”

He recognized that voice. Squeaky and loud. Like a chick being put through a grain mill, but only a teeny bit tougher. But all this had nothing to do with him being called the Spider.

“I never understood your name. Ox. Ox – as in the great Ox who helped plough our lands once? Or Ox – after the vizier and governor of Egypt?”

Silence.

“Now now, if you’re an Ox, I’m the Spider. And a poisonous spider’s bite can stun a fucking fat Ox. So, be a cutie, and tell me why your name is Ox!” And he twisted and pushed the knife deeper.

Searing Pain. And a succumbed scream. And a gravelly voice grinding out from clenched teeth.

“It’s…not…Ox…It’s 0x. 0x45…”

“And…?”

“0x45…Hexadecimal notation for the decimal 69…”

“And…?”

“Tried 68 times…to find an alternative for my given name…Didn’t like my primitive given name…And decided on 0x45 finally…Over time, came to be known as 0x…and finally Ox…”

“Oh my Ox, you a brainy one. I’ll stick to Ox. You’re too knowledgeable for me. Too intense.”

He could finally open his eyes fully. His tormentor stood before him. Wearing a red tunic that extended till his ankles. An eyepatch with a drawing of a hibiscus over it. Auburn hair. A scar over across his nose. Whenever he breathed, it looked like air expunged through that scar. “Ugly bastard”, Ox thought to himself.

“I am a simple man, Ox. Her Highness orders, I execute. And in this case, She has requested that I direct all my attention to you. So, either you tell me where your goddamn sister is, or you face the Hibiscus’ wrath.”

“Hibiscus?” A sly smile escaped his lips.

“Her Highness’ royal emblem, you fucktard! And don’t make me show what that knife in your thigh can do, once it’s right up in your eye socket. Fucking insolence.”

Ox closed his eyes. He tried not to think of water. And drowning. Deep inside, he knew what he had done.

–

As Sara dropped the note onto her cell floor, she heard thunder. Or was it thunder? She was not sure. The lone cell block suddenly, started to feel damp. The smell brought back the haunting memories, the convulsed screams, the blinding darkness, the familiar pain. She hugged herself. “Drown.” “Drown.” “Drown…Drow…Dro…”

The walls cracked. “He really meant what he wrote”, she thought.

So many experiments. So many calculations. He was really determined. However, he had failed to notice that essential flaw in his plan.

Butterflies can’t swim.

–
“Can you swim, Ox?”

“Why?”

“You see that lake there? We usually toss our prisoners alive into that thing. Bound and gagged. Would love to see how you would whimper around that.”

Ox looked up. The squeaky voice was near his ear. Whispering, but firm.

“I know that you freed your sister by flooding the cells. And I know that you’ll live if you tell me where she is right now.”

Ox looked at his thigh. To his right was a table. And on the table, was the glass bottle using which he had initiated his final plan. Near the rim of the bottle, were the initials “S.A.” in brown dye. He looked around. Spider was his only company.

“Like a Butterfly caught in a Spider’s web, alone. Tell me Spider, aren’t you interested in the name of my sister?”

“Why would I?”

“Sara. Didn’t think it was peculiar?”

“Uh…”

“Didn’t think there was more to it?”

“Uh…”

“And why didn’t you ask me about the bottle?”

“Which bottle?”

Before Spider could understand the weight of Ox’s questions, Ox grabbed the bottle with his tied hands. In one swift motion, he brought it right to Spider’s head. As the glass broke, Ox shiv-ed the bottle right into Spider’s eyepatch.

“YOU FUCKER!” the Spider howled as he clutched his blind eye. “GUARDS!”

Ox used the broken bottle to cut himself free. He ran towards the exit of the tent. The guards had just heard the Spider’s wail. Ox turned and ran to the back of the tent. He climbed atop a truck containing oil barrels and hid himself amongst them. He could still hear the Spider’s voice.

“Find him, you worthless fools! Find him!”

As his mind raced furiously over the consequence of his actions, he chanced upon the lake.

Butterflies can’t swim, but oxen can.

–

Flooded cells and frantic swimming. Sara wasn’t ready for this, but she had to do it. Fighting the water, fighting the dark thoughts and fighting the experiments that her brother had performed on her. As she struggled through the icy currents, she felt her arms and limbs weigh her down. “No, not now!”, she feared. Trying to reach the surface, Her vision slowly became unclouded as she saw sunlight above. She heaved and ascended.

As her head popped over the surface of the water, she gave in. She gave in to the experiments that her brother had performed on her. She transformed, slowly. Her limbs were brown wings, her body thinned and shrivelled. Her eyes compounded. The water slowly shook itself off her. She took flight. But not for long.

A bottle containing the initials “S.A.” enveloped her. The lid popped tight, and a weary pair of eyes gazed at her.
S.A. Sara Alexandra. Alexandra Birdwing. The Butterfly.

Holding the bottle, Ox was succinct in his thoughts. “The Spider and the Hibiscus won’t know what hit ‘em.”

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The next author would be Ashwin Arun. All the very best, Ashwin 🙂

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Please read the next chapter here

Race against immortality – Chapter 1

Name of Author 1 : Subhashree Srinivasan

Note on Author 1 : Pessimist creative writer who wants to do more, but is completely lazy. Is drawn to bit of sentiments and more of vegetarian food.

You can read her blog here

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Chapter 1

Standing at 7 feet, he may be the average height among men and women in Quantum speed express, but he definitely was the oldest. Vidyush Vibhan was returning from his 145^th birthday celebration with friends and family who were closer to his age, drinking away in glory and not worried about any kind of consequences. He stood in a vehicle which had ceilings much higher than his height, and few people in the vehicle were almost at the ceiling.

“Kids these days grow faster, but dumber”

No human being in the vehicle made any noise, while they worked on their virtual machines. The vehicle in itself didn’t make a sound as it moved faster than what human eyes could comprehend. This irked Vidyush to an extent. He reminisced the days of his childhood which had vehicles on roads that made noise. In those days, the cities were bustling with activity and the air had oxygen. He remembered the stories from his grandmother about music and movie theatres which were available in 2020, the year he was born. All the images of the musicians hung in the museums of history.

“Our planet had become a strange place”

The Earth was covered with more human beings than trees, more machines than schools, more technology than clean natural source of water. Everyone was living alone in their coffin homes, carrying on with their monotonous lives but pushing forward a fake online interactions with lives of others.

Vidyush lost his parents in a war that had occurred exactly 74 years ago, wiping out most of the human race as much as it did with the naturally occurring landscapes and resources. After the war, man had built weapons faster than anything else. The weapons for the biological warfare was the improvement of medical systems to greater extents – the genetics, the clones and the robots which performed the operations.

Vidyush noticed that his shoe lace was untied. It would have only taken him a click of a button on his smartchip to tie them back together, but he didn’t use the option. Instead, he bent down straight and began to tie the lace. The man next to him, shifted noiselessly to other side to allow him to continue his activity. All the artificial organs in his body began to crunch. He let out a sigh carefully, making sure that he wasn’t adding any kind of noise to the surrounding. Almost all of his organs were replaced by machines.

He stayed seated over his knees for a moment when he noticed that the oxygen indicator of the vehicle read 92%. The vehicle had the capability to synthesize oxygen from the carbon dioxide let out from the human beings. In fact, all the streets, shops, malls were installed with such equipment.

There was much lesser oxygen levels in the air than it was few years ago, but it didn’t kill men. The science was very advanced than it had made men, immortal. The emergency alerts were upped, organs were made artificial and cure for every disease came as breakthrough faster than it could spread. As the diseases and pain increased, the part of the human body which caused it was replaced with a machine that could function just as the natural part. And the machines could never die.

Vidyush was a celebrated war hero. As much as he liked all the fame that it had brought him in his younger days, he despised the fact that he was very alone now. His family were long gone during the war, his friends moved apart with the love of their lives and he was only needed in case of emergencies by his officials. He was condemned fit to work even now, as a medical Run officer whose task was to get closer to victims who were attacked by any man made weapons. He was also one of the reasons why men never died.

During the protocol stages of the Medical Run initiation, Vidyush had tried to kill himself many times. But, each time he did so, the science overtook him by bringing the help closer and faster. He was worked upon by robots which performed operations at a 100% accuracy rate reducing all risks of him dying. And Vidyush hated this.

He considered himself to be another man made machine. He was not interested in living more than it was needed. But, his officials always ensured that he stayed alive as he was one of the most efficient officers. How much ever tried, Vidyush always worked to help his fellow human beings in state of crisis; this quality of him was most sorted after. Even though he was saving many lives, he himself felt lifeless and tortured with too much time that he had.

But, with the science being so complicated, and machines working so reliable, diseases having cures, how was man ever going to become mortal again?

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I nominate Niranjana Das for the next chapter. Thank you for accepting and all the very best 🙂

Judgement – Chapter 3

Please read the previous chapter here

Author name: Kavita Yajnik

Note on the author: A blogger and an avid theatre enthusiast who spends her days in marketing different products. A foodie, and a fan of the traditional Garba dance form, she loves to leave people laughing their heads off with her mimicry skills.

You can read more on her blog here

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Chapter 3

Ghosts of the Past

“The past is never where you think you left it”, read a frame in that sultry basement of Mwalisso22-a bitter reminder to the unfortunate inmates who were left there waiting to die, a bitter reminder of their horrendous crimes that had brought them there, a bitter reminder to Kwon and his colleagues for their perceived incompetence.

With number plates hung around their neck, the prisoners boarded the cramped truck that would take them to aircraft to Risok Labs for the second round of testing. As Kwon called out the names, one after another, his heart skipped a beat. Sweat trickled down his forehead, and as he paced up and down that corridor. For the first time in his 10 years at Mwalisso22, Kwon seemed visibly anxious. “There must be a mistake”, he frantically yelled at his supervisor. “Our orders are clear”, replied an unperturbed voice on the other side of the line. In bold letters read the last name on that list in his hand: ‘200. KWON THELMES’.

It was a dark, stormy night when a young, 10 year old Rusk Thelmes sat by the window waiting for his father to return. He didn’t return that night, neither the next, or the night after. The police claimed it to be an accident-a laboratory casualty during an experiment that he was performing. But Rusk knew there was something darker to that incident than just a fatality. He knew his Uncle Kwon was involved. Kwon had learnt of a trade secret that Rusk’s father was working on and had threatened to leak it unless he received a princely amount in exchange.
Rusk knew his father was exasperated by the increasing threats to him and his family from Kwon and his clan. He suspected this was more than just an accident. He smelt murder. But who would listen to a 10 year old’s accusations? Who would pay heed to investigate into such a well crafted murderer who didn’t leave any trace behind? The chapter of tragedy had not yet ended for little Rusk. Unable to tolerate the humiliations from the society and the increasing threats from Kwon, Rusk’s mother ended her life one night leaving the 11 year old in an orphanage. And in that shabby little orphanage began Rusk’s quest for science-to delve deeper into the intricacies of the human brain.

Kwon knew the fate of the ‘guinea pigs’. They were all killed-either by the prolonged effect of the drugs which were administered to them, or due to a failed experiment, or were executed by Kwon himself, least they divulge any sensitive information. Kwon knew his fate. What he did not know was that his fate was being decided by his own nephew.  

Back in the claustrophobic Risok Labs, Rusk and Varnia continued their extensive research on the test to be performed on the 200 humans. They studied each case file in detail to understand how their actions in the past could be altered by administering the drug. As Varnia sunk among the large heap of files on the table she couldn’t help but notice Mr. Rusk immersed in the contents of one particular case file. Ms. Varnia was not a person who would jump to conclusions. Her scientific bent of mind and the years of research with Mr. Rusk prevented her from doing so. But intuition told her that Mr. Rusk and Kwon had a history to share. In over 10 years of her research with Mr. Rusk, she had never seen him as much involved in the case file of one particular patient. As engrossed as she was in her own world of scientific discovery, Varnia could not be easily deceived. In the past she had been a part of several works of Mr. Rusk Thelmes, some scandalous, others revolutionary; but she knew that none of those works were as sinister or as breakthrough as this drug. She was well aware of the implications of this drug as well as the accolades that this invention would bring. As much as she respected Mr. Thelmes as her mentor, she knew that he would leave no stone turned to be recognized as the most powerful and respectable individual in the world of science. And as much as she knew that Mr. Thelmes needed her assistance to make this experiment a success, she also knew that once the experiment succeeded, Thelmes would not think twice to get her out of his way-least she revealed a patented secret or claimed a share of his success. She knew she was an important asset to Rusk Thelmes, but not indispensable.

As he flung the file aside, Mr. Rusk Thelmes had a flood of emotions bottling up within him. All his dreams and aspirations would now come true. From being an underrated scientist, it was not too long before he would become the most powerful scientist that the world had in years; and his invention, the most formidable invention in centuries. A drug that would alter how humans make moral judgments, a panacea to prevent every immoral action – a drug that would prevent a person from committing suicide, that could enable an alcoholic to quit drinking, a drug that would have helped his mother stay alive a little longer, that could have prevented Uncle Kwon from killing Rusk’s father, a drug that could prevent any heinous crime and at the same time inflict enough mental trauma on a criminal so as to wipe out every criminal that existed in this world; a drug that would make this world a better place to live in.

But who decides the difference between right and wrong, moral and immoral? Who decides the ‘greater common good’? Is homicide, with the intention to make the world a better place, a righteous act? Can an act which is justifiable for one man not be immoral to another? Can one man be omnipotent? Is he above the realms of law and justice? Did Rusk Thelmes have the power to distinguish the right from the wrong?

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Next author would be Vikas Singh . Thank you for accepting 🙂 Wish you all the very best.

Please read the next chapter here

Judgement – Chapter 2

Please read the previous chapter here

Name of Author 2 : Srinithi Srinivasan

Note on Author 2 :Sales Manager who loves numbers, tennis and dairy products. She likes to put words out in a public forum with an audience capturing speech and listens to all sides of an argument.

Chapter 2

The secrets in the dark

It was dark and reeked of dry urine and sweat as a tall, large built man entered the cell.

“You are up next”, he barked, as a skinny soul draped in torn clothes inked with own blood, crawled toward the light that entered the cell because it was open.

Kwon was the officer in charge in the infamous Mwalisso22 located at the northern most tip of Korea, an area which most advanced satellites also couldn’t seep through and capture an image. Most political figures denied the existence of this 2000 acre concentration camp housing prisoners of war, crime, murders, riots or even mere existence, maybe. Fenced with 3000 volt electric wire and barbed wire, this prison on a hill top housed –men, women, children and even families. And guarding this were 500 men who watched these deprived souls like a hungry wolf waiting to prey on carcass. No mortal or even machine was able to pinpoint to the correct record of number of inmates in this 100 year old prison – some say 10000, some quote 100000 at a time. But one thing that everyone agrees upon is the living condition or rather, the absence of it.  The rooms were overcrowded- dampened with leaky roofs that fouled of blood, sweat and semen that the rodents fed on and which the humans later fed themselves with, amongst the other living creatures that crawled past them. Food was a privilege-the rice given daily was countable and moldy, the curry bore effluvia that could sicken an average human, vegetables given only on those “special” days when someone higher up visited.  Winter went by with food only on alternate days and inmates squeezed against each other to remain warm. Daily physical torture was a norm, rapes a routine, and anyone who dared spoke up against this, lost their voice, followed by limbs and eventually a slow painful death. Prisoners merely existed. No wonder it was the ideal centre for testing humans.

Kwon was one of the highly regarded officers amongst his peers and renowned internationally for bringing in radical changes in all his stints with the US Special Forces. Yet, here he was, in the ugliest prison, webbed with political influence and misery, counting each prisoner’s last few hours as corporates hurried to bid for number of humans they wanted to test. It was a concealed truth- Mwalliso 22 was the ground for testing humans with various drugs. An underground auction was held monthly with number of prisoners, on sale and the amount in offering. Usually a profile was attached to this testing- Profile A would mean men, aged 25-45 and in healthy condition (healthy by Mwalliso22 standards) and charged higher, compared to profile B, which would mean men and women aged 45+ and in almost dead condition. Corporates would surreptitiously send in their bids through underworld mafias who demanded a large cut for remaining anonymous. Mwalliso 22 was a famous testing ground because of many factors- the price, the secrecy it offered, the variety of samples one can obtain should one fail and the best part being that there was no one in the outside world who cared or knew of the existence of these prisoners.

Kwon was now staring at a letter from Risok Labs-the content was rather unique; it contained information about the node in prefrontal cortex which was the “moral” judging button of human brain. Risok Labs now wanted to test 50 humans with this tablet for 30 days which assured would alter the moral judgement of humans to always choose the “right” thing to do. The letter contained information of the type of humans they required and daily test results for further analysis.  There were red tablets – which meant the “wrong” judgement tablet to be given to 25 humans and the green tablet- which meant the “right” judgement tablet to be given to 25 humans. Should this test pass successfully, a second round of testing with 200 humans was required and the amount that would be paid was also duly signed.

As Kwon went through the reports of Risok Labs, his thoughts went back to how a decorated officer like himself, landed in a prison like Mwalliso22. Kwon was a leading lieutenant in the Special Forces of the US Army, someone who had risen to his ranks at a very young age. He was awarded Medal of Honor on many occasions and wore such badges after swiftly completing many surgical operations with almost no casualties. But it was different on 23rd November 2015. Kwon and his team were on foreign land, their task to extricate the teenage son of a high profile political leader who was kidnapped by terrorists. Masked and ready to charge in, Kwon was faced with a dilemma, a moral decision that he had to make – to choose between losing his entire battalion or the teenage son. Being the leader he was, Kwon saved his battalion first, then plunged to save the boy himself but unfortunately in the exchange of fire, the boy lost his left leg. Next thing Kwon knew was he was stripped off all his medals and demoted to this abyss-Mwalliso22.
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I nominate Kavita Yajnik to write the next chapter in next 9 days. All the very best, and thank you for agreeing.

Please read the next chapter here

Judgement – Chapter 1

Name of Author 1 : Subhashree Srinivasan

Note on Author 1 : Pessimist creative writer who wants to do more, but is completely lazy. Is drawn to bit of sentiments and more of vegetarian food.

Please read her blog here

Chapter 1

The alteration

The red oak table mounted on an old wooden dusty floor creaked several times as the man shook his legs. It was the rhythm that killed the silence in the lab. He stared at the paper in front of him with the same expression for past several minutes. The paper had contents occupied only on the top with a red printed lines that stated ‘ Risok lab facilities’ and an address below. The man broke the expression with a sigh and scribbled ‘bring them to clinic’ slowly with letters sprawling one after the other with a minute gap. As lazy as he can be, the man continued to use his company letter pad for further writing. After all, everything that was in the room was his own.

After letting out the exasperation which he had been holding on for a long time, to get the contents out his head, he slumped forward on the chair and looked up the ceiling. He was making a conscious decision to look at every place in the lab as he was writing a point after the other. The chair creaked loudly again under the shift weight of him. He was tiny, bald but heavier than any object in his lab. Most of the weight must come from his brain.

His lab smelled of wet wood, chemicals and some sweet fragrances that a simple mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend. If one had been here, they could mistake this to be an office of an accountant or a library. The man didn’t have a choice as his home was converted into a lab to accommodate his overwhelming ambitions. The two neatly placed white tables with several science equipment were the only things in the lab that were not red.

The main door of the lab creaked as well, not with the weight of the woman who entered but, because it was old. The man shifted his position suddenly to pretend that he was deep in his thoughts.

” Good morning Mr. Thelmes”, the woman muttered in an awkward smile with words that were swallowed into her tiny vocal chords. He smiled and nodded.

She stood there, not sure if there would be more response or if she could proceed to her place in the far end of the lab.

” Good morning Varnia”, he replied back finally without any salutation.

She blinked through her large glasses and proceeded to move towards her desk. She was small in frame, who wore everything that seemed large for her. Her light pink t shirt that she wore almost all days to work, slung loosely fit on her. She adjusted herself quickly on the table and began typing on the laptop like she had not taken a break for 10 hours from the previous day.

As miniature as the lab and Miss Varnia were, the work that the lab did was not small. If anyone looked at Miss. Varnia Schwank in a shopping mall , they would have assumed her to be a cashier sitting in one corner of the room . But , she held as much as mystery as the lab or Mr. Thelmes.

Mr. Rusk Thelmes was one of the brightest, but unrecognised scientist in his industry. He being underrated is what made him most desirable by every of the pharmaceutical companies in his city. The small 900 Feet lab held secrets that would alter the way the humans thought. In literal sense.

Miss Varnia was not discovered in an overnight but, a six long year of acquittal with Mr Thelmes while she studied under him. She studied only one subject with Rusk for the longest duration: the brain. Her family were isolated from each other into their own worlds of science, and this gave Varnia to work with Thelmes as much as she wanted and scandalous as it could get.

She stopped typing for a moment and looked at Thelmes, who was still pretending to ignore her and staring at the ceiling. He could pretend that she was not there, but he couldn’t ignore the work she brought to the table. Over painstaking years of desperation and hard work, she was finally able to exactly pin point to the part of brain that made moral judgements. A single node in Prefrontal Cortex that helped humans judge between what was correct and what was wrong.

It was approximately a year ago when she placed her yellow folder of findings on Mr. Thelmes’s desk. He swallowed several times and his hands shook as he read her discovery. Though he didn’t bring his large frame to give a hug, she knew she was spot on about the findings. They had looked at each other with their own thoughts for two minutes and emotions spilling through eyes. After validation from Rusk on her discovery and many discussions on the subject, she took a break for six months. She hadn’t informed Rusk where was going, as she wasn’t sure herself. She travelled to places she didn’t know, with people she didn’t care about later. She let her brain free and body talk for most of the nights with men who were much larger than her but intelligent as half as her.

When she returned back to the Risok labs, Mr. Thelmes had made the discovery that he promised he would. He had earlier stated that his discovery would change the way human think and process. His weapon was a small tablet that would alter how humans make moral judgements. He had discovered a medicine that would reverse the decision of the brain of the host who was injected.

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I nominate Srinithi Srinivasan to write the next chapter in next 10 days. All the very best, and thank you for agreeing.

Please read the next chapter here