Chain Reaction 3.78: Machine

Alex

     A moaning sound reaches my ears as consciousness tries to return.

     Pain is everywhere: my neck, my skull, my eyes, my legs, my butt, my ribs, my hands. Everywhere.

     I slowly open my eyes and find myself in a white room.

     Wait. Is it white? There are bars in front of the white walls--when they're white that is. Maybe I'm hallucinating, but they keep shifting color.

     What sort of bizarre dream is this? I pay it no mind and go back to peaceful, dreamless, painless sleep.

...
...
...

     It wasn't a dream.
     I gasp and open my eyes to be greeted once again by the bars surrounded by oddly shifting white walls.

     Where am I? This doesn't look like any jail cell I've ever seen. The bars are the same, but these walls are creepy. Sometimes it's hard to tell where the floor ends and the walls begin. If I stare at them too long, I fear I'll go mad, so I look at all the other items around me.

       There are placed a mismatched collection of items: a strange shower unit, a screen in front of a toilet, a bookshelf, a small sofa, a table with two chairs, and the bed. In another "room," I see exercise equipment, an artist's easel, a mirror, and a topiary of sorts. One thing is obvious: I'm not in the same prison.

       A large door that looks like it goes to a bank vault solidifies the wall in front of me. Only... I'm on the wrong side of the vault door. It locks from the other side.

       But where am I? Where is my son?!
       "Hello?" Someone should hear me. The sick bastards, whoever they are, have a camera trained right on my bed.
       I look around, and the back of my neck stings when I turn my head. I automatically reach up to rub it, and I feel a raised section along the vertebrae. What the? 

      The vault door opens. Beyond it is another room with the strange white walls.
      An alien woman steps through the door, and it seals behind her. I should've known.

      "Who are you? What am I doing here?!" I demand of the woman.
      She smiles condescendingly. "Good morning, Mr. Goth. I see you are well. I trust the rooms are comfortable enough? Does it need to be warmer? Colder? We chose a temperate climate for this room. I am here to check on your comfort level."

      "My 'comfort level'? Are you insane? Tell me where I am."
      Her damn smile disappears. "All right. You are in research facility number 473. We have designed the atmosphere to match that of your home planet."
      "And what is your home planet?" Home planet?! What the plum! Where am I?!
      She scowls. "That is not information you need to know."
      I decide being direct would be best. I'll freak out later. "I disagree. But tell me why I'm here at... 'research facility number 473.'"
      Her ridiculously joyous smile returns. "You have been selected, Mr. Goth!" She makes it sound like I've won the lottery. "We are quite pleased with you. And impressed. Your age and physique denote a kind of longevity we desire, and..." Her smile grows--if that's even possible, "... You produced a male child."
      "And that's a good thing?"
      "Most certainly. We have been trying to replenish the males of our species for the past three hundred years. We discovered that in humans, it's the males who decide the sex of the child, so we set out to harvest that ability, and the few that do produce males for us get moved into the next phase of our project."
     I'm finding it hard to breathe. That was almost... too much information. After all, she'd declined telling me where she's from. That fact does not bode well for me, the fact that she just rattled off all that to me like there's no danger I would squeal to the outside world.
     I put together everything she just told me and apply it to my situation. "What 'next phase'?" I have a fear I already know the answer.
     She scowls again.

     "You ask too many questions. I have been generous with my answers. But I am here to find out if the climate in this room is to your liking. We want you to be comfortable."
     "No, I'm not 'comfortable'! I don't want to be here! I have a wife! I have children! Where did you take my son?! I'm innocent of the crime they imprisoned me for! I want to go home!" I lunge at the bars, intending to grab her, but the metal shocks me painfully, and I jump back with a cry.
     She smirks. "This alloy does not agree with your human skin, Mr. Goth." She straightens. "I see you will not answer my question, so you leave me with no choice but to continue with this temperature until I see you react negatively to it." She turns to go.
     "No! Wait! Please! What 'next phase' do you mean?!"
     She ignores me; the door opens; and she exits the room. And I let myself freak out.
     I grab the bars, ignoring the pain, and try to pull at them. My skin singes, and I scream. But I don't let go. I brace my foot against the bars, and it too starts to burn. I have no idea where I am. For all I know, I could be on another planet. I have no idea how much time has gone by, only that it's enough for my body to completely recover from the pregnancy.
    I scream continuously, trying to find a weak joint in the cage, but all I do is hurt myself more. I must get out of here! Nothing but pain goes to my skull as the entire layer of skin dissolves from my hands.
    Then I'm on the floor. I must've fainted from the pain. I see in a sort of haze as what must be a medical team rushes into the room. The doors are all open, but I cannot move from how the agony has crippled me.


-------

     I think it's been a few weeks. Months? I have no indicator for time. I don't know if it's day or night. For all I know, I'm in deep space.
     My body has healed. Each time the medical team visited me, I was drugged with that same odd anesthetic they used in my 'nightmare.' My life has become that nightmare.
     During their visits, I noticed that one of the panels opens like a door, but I keep getting confused on which one.

      Now, I'm once again fully healed. I feel physically buoyant. In fact, I haven't felt this energetic and young in a long time.
      Food has just magically appeared on my table, and I get up to dutifully eat. I'll need my strength if I should ever get the chance to escape. I live like an animal in a zoo.
     Having eaten, I sit on my bed again to think depressing thoughts. The vault door opens, and a woman walks in. To my surprise, she opens the panel door and enters my cage. I don't move in my shock, but my brain does register and remember which panel she used. I store that away for later.

     "I am ADZ8350. I have been chosen as your first." She stands back and appears to be sizing me up.
     "My first?"
     She smiles, trying to look reassuring. "Yes. They chose me for my 'winning personality' they say. I am allowed to answer almost any question you may have."
     "Where am I?"
     "Research facility number 473."
     "And where is that?"
     "I can't answer that."
     "Will I ever get to go home?"
     "No."
     I look down. I don't bother crying. I've done plenty of that. I already knew the answer to that question. It was pointless to ask.

     "Do not despair, Mr. Goth. There are plenty of ways to make your life enjoyable here with us."
     "Why am I here?" Again, I suspect I know the answer.
     "To father boys."
     I sigh, my shoulders sagging. "I don't think you understand. My body could barely tolerate the last pregnancy."
     "That's not... um, that is to say..." Her stuttering makes me curious, and I look up at her. Is she blushing? She takes a breath. "I am actually a hybrid. My father was human." She reads my look. "There are lots of us. Our only use is to try and use the hybrid-ness we have to possibly make it easier to create more boys. We, as hybrids, can become pregnant."
     "How... old are you?" How long has this been going on?
     She pauses to think. "In your planet's terms I would be... twelve."
     "Holy plumbing plum! An adult at twelve?!"
     She smiles, almost laughing. "I am of breeding age, yes. In fact, I have already provided them with a son."
     "So there are others like me?"
     "Not many. That is because that we, in our ignorance, have not figured out completely ways to encourage males to develop."
     "Separate the x's and y's under a microscope."
     "True, we have tried that many times, but we have a higher pregnancy success rate using a more... traditional method... to provide stimulation."

       This can't be real. I'm dead and in some sort of hell.
      She misreads my expression. "To answer your next question: yes. Your job is to provide this service to the community. We're testing a hypothesis."
      "I'm... old. I can't see how I would be much use to you."
      A small smile appears on her face. "We're very adept at slowing the aging process."
      "Yet speeding it up to get to the... what did you call it? breeding age?" I get up and start pacing.
      So this is it. I got 'selected' because I produced a male baby. They want more male babies to further their crazy repopulation scheme, even desperate enough to dilute their species with humans. The alien DNA must have some crazy high dominance, though.
      Another thought strikes me. "What happened to the men who produced girls?"
      She looks down. "They were terminated."
      "WHAT?! They had families! They had lives!" I pause. "What about my wife? What 'story' has she been told?"
      "Your society has a close enough clone of you. Dead.'"
      I gasp, "No." No no no no no! Emily thinks I'm dead!

     "Don't let yourself fret, Mr. Goth." She approaches me and places what she probably thinks is a calming hand on me.
     "So what happens to me if I don't live up to your malicious expectations?"
     "Let's not discuss that." She looks to be getting 'in the mood,' but I am totally not. "You're such a fine specimen. I doubt that will be an issue."
      The hybrid creature actually leans in to try and kiss me! I shove her away. "No." I start pacing again, and she watches me. "Terminate me, then. I want no part of this ludicrous scheme your kind have cooked up."
     "Sit down, and let's talk. Give me a chance to explain."
     "You can leave now. You'll get no cooperation from me." Still, I find myself sitting on the bed again.
     "I really didn't want to have to do this. I'd hoped it wouldn't come to that, but you leave me no choice."

      I gasp in shock as images and emotions get planted in my brain: a dying race with the sorrow, despair, and desperation to fix it. A planet destroyed. Other alien life forms dying because they were of no use. Then, the hope when they encountered us. We're their best hope. They need our help to survive.
     And I want to help them.

      I perform my duties to help the community. ADZ8350 explains she has to keep her suit on due to the atmosphere in here, but she adjusts it to allow for what needs to happen.

     Afterwards, every night (at least I presume it's night--they never turn off the white walls), I have another visitor. Not all of them are as happy about it as ADZ8350 was, and I discover they sent her to me first because of her talent for telepathy. Some of the girls are scared, and I feel terrible for what I have to do, but I must do my duty. I am like a machine for the greater good.

     Weeks later, I hate it here. ADZ8350's telepathic "message" wears away, but I'm trapped. I've started having "successes," making them like me more.
     I miss Emily with every atom in my body and soul.
     But the only way I'm leaving here is death.