What are you looking at kid, Bruce Freeman thought and couldnt help but chuckle. It wasnt often that he saw kids from the lower core. Their reaction always amused him. Well its better than not being seen at all he supposed. He decided to finish his fun by raising his head to give his face full light. The five year old boy let out a whine and stepped back.
Michael, his mother said in a scolding voice hes just an..
No, dont say that. the young boy said cutting her off Jera said that they dont like it.
The mother rolled her eyes and barked, Lets go! She was dressed in what would appear to be workers grey-cloth coveralls. The even stitching and smooth texture gave away their expensive heritage. Bruce could sense the boys desire to turn and get one more glace as they walked away. It never happened.
They dont like that. echoed in his head. Again, Bruce was amused. He had been calling nothing but that for a long time.
He went back to unloading the moss canisters from refrigerated rail cart. Messing with the bosss son was usually beneath him. However, his excitement for the evening put him a playful mood. Freeman let out a full exhale as he placed the container in their refrigerated unit. He walked over to cart, pressed the release and stood a moment watching it descend to the lower railway until the floor doors slammed shut.
His six foot two frame was a gruesome sight. He had quite an athletic build for a man in his thirties, however any positive effect it would have was nullified by the fact that he was skinless with only a loose t-shirt, shredded pants and pair of work boots to hide it. A thin clear membrane covered his body and was almost impossible to see unless one got really close. Unfortunately what was underneath did not resemble something you see on a medical chart. The tendons, bone, muscles, and other tissue had a brownish gray tinge that resembled the color of meat when you first start to brown it. His face looked almost mummified and lack of lips locked his face in a permanent grimace. Still, it was easy to make out by the tightening of the muscles on his cheeks that he was smiling. His solid black eyes seemed larger than they were tucked into the shadow of their sockets.
Soon, he thought. Seven more hours and it will be his nineteenth year as a failed social experiment. His mind started to wander back, the smile faded. The images of his last day being normal rushed into his mind, the courtroom, his mother, the people and that, face! It snapped him out of his momentary daydream. Tonight, he thought.
He finished his work around eighteen hundred hours. It had been a hard day and his muscles not only seemed to be reliving it, but telling him about it all at once. Stretching in an attempt to relieve some of the tension, Freeman turned and looked over to the door leading out of the food processing room. The lights were out which meant that he was alone.
Walking over to a small locker next to the rest room, Bruce took the key fob out of his pocket and with a quick swipe in the air next to it, the locker was open. He exchanged his operator keys for a small case and two quick shot syringes. They had installed a blood sugar regulator years ago, yet he still carried them. It was mostly out of habit since his first ten years was spent getting the required injection every four hours. Plus, there was no way he was going to let his life hang on something they installed as a trial to see if it was fit for a real person. He tossed in the fob and closed the door.
With surprising agility Bruce climbed up on one of the large turbine processors and scaled the pipes to a conduit box. Reaching in his pocket he took out a small hex driver and unscrewed the front panel. Behind the mess of wires was a metallic bag that just fit in the square twenty five centimeter casing. The cover was back on and he was down even quicker than he went up. He pocketed the bag and headed out the rear exit with only a slight pause to look back at the place he had worked the last six years.
He walked through the alleys which were more like large dimly lit corridors. They used to be busy with shipments coming in and out, but since the under-rail they were almost unused. It was a fifty minute walk home leaving plenty of time to get lost in thought.
Bruce remembered when he first heard of the cleansing punishment. He was ten when his father let him watch his first trial. The man had killed someone in a fit of rage. The arguments and pleas that were made were well above his young mind, but the fear on the mans face was impossible not to read. He had a long talk with his father that whole night about the process of why and how it came to be.
It was years after people were forced to go underground, the few that survived that is. Human life became more sacred and cherished that it had ever been. The mere act of ones survival and that of the species became almost a religion in itself, which his father, as most of the survivors, was completely in servitude to. Everything was weighed against the whole and its possible effect on human existence. Added to this was the belief that every life was sacred and nothing could validate the taking of a life. Of course these philosophies create many instances of conflict with each other. One major problem being, what could they do with those individuals who went against those very values?
Locking people up, when everyone was stuck in small cramped quarters didnt make much sense. There was too much work to be done and too few people to do it. At first they tried chain gangs and prison work shops. The lack of any real punishment for those who cared little for human life, resulted in many guard deaths. It took five years for them to come up with a solution. To understand how this came about, one would need to know that many of the people saved were the brightness minds of their time in fields such as math, science, genetics, chemistry and every sub category one could think of.
They took ideas from positive and negative studies to come up with a way to strip the humanity from a person, giving them a way to punish those who defy the moral code while still staying true to their ideology. The side benefit was a subclass of slaves who would find it impossible to reintegrate into society. Also if the Converted, what they tried to label them, ever got out of line there would be no moral dilemma with putting them to death.
So a failed genetic treatment for skin cancer became the thin clear layer that was now his skin. A failed diet treatment prevented his body from creating fat. Plus many other things that distanced them from other humans. It was surprising how close the first case, Edward Vazquez, was to the last one Bruce Freeman. The only major difference was they did not pigment the eyes at first. But too many complaints that it was distracting to people had it quickly remedied.
Bruce remembered telling his father how wrong it was. His dad rebuked the notion quickly and forcefully. He never gave his son much latitude in thought or action. He like his father was the last of seven kids and was told quite often that he will never be babied. While it did keep him in check around his dad, it built up resentment for the man and his ideals.
Bruce picked this moment to finally make a stand and continued to insist that it was wrong. His father buried him in arguments of philosophy, logic and religion. But Bruce held fast since they were meaningless to a person arguing from raw emotion. He was not just arguing against this issue but everything his father had tried to force him to believe. The argument ended as the dad realized that their hate for each other was the true catalyst for the altercation.
From that moment on they kept their distance. Bruce continued to escalate his disapproval for everything around him. It went from verbal to vandalizing and finally to out right terrorism. His fathers pull in the community saved him from punishment many times. But nothing could be done when he destroyed a portion of a conversion facility. He was labeled an anarchist and sent to the very one he tried to destroy for processing.
At that point they number in the hundreds, but their life expectancy was short. Many went mad and were put to death. Others tried to escape and were put to death. They began using them for medical studies and test treatments.
It wasnt long after his conversion that society agreed with Bruces stance. This change wasnt due to some major epiphany, it was a sign of the improvement of the quality of life. Life was getting easier and they were actually starting to have people explore the surface.
They put and injunction on the whole process. Five years after the final conversion, it was deemed inhumane and illegal. It had been a bitter fight, though once it was settled the government moved quickly to deal with the remaining hundred or so conversions. Those who convicted of murder were put to death quietly. Others chose euthanasia to end their misery. A select few were given a chance to continue working and living their lives out in servitude hidden from society. They were still closely monitored and all the safeguards remained in place.
As the years past the numbers dwindled, until finally four years ago, when Bruce became the last of his kind. He stopped having to go to security checks for his internal sensors. He no longer saw maintenance people performing checks on the sensors. No one cared. He was a single ember leftover from a dowsed fire.
Bruce came to his basement residence with its entrance in hidden from public in the alley. He opened the door to the un decorated one room living space, set his alarm and collapsed on the bed. He woke up at two minutes to zero hundred hours.
He climbed out of bed, sucked down a protein-vita shake, and hit the head. Methodically, Freeman put on an orange work suit that was hanging in the closet, grabbed a small backpack that was sitting on his table, went over the a maintenance schedule that was next to the pack. Then he removed the metallic bag from his work pants, opened it and removed a pistol containing ten bullets. He only needed one. Finally he put on a full face mask with air filter that had a matching orange hood to cover the rest of his head and then left his quarters.
Thankfully some sympathizers provided him with the fumigation schedule, this outfit and a few other things to help him escape. They even helped him find a friend. The thought made him smile.
Bruce used service tunnels to work his way to the building targeted for fumigation. Of course his real goal was the building next door.
Sixty two year old Marvin Ansel was sitting down to go over some of the paperwork he failed to complete at work earlier that day when he heard the knock. He went to the door and saw the fumigator standing outside. Can I help you, I thought you guys were next door today he asked as he open the Door.
There is a leak and we are warning tenants of this building the man answered.
A leak, how is that pos.. Marvin started to reply before the butt of a gun slammed against his nose, sending him falling to the floor on his back.
The man walked in, closed the door and removed his mask to Marvins horror.
Who are you? Why are you here? He asked propping himself up with his hands.
The creature smiled and said Im Bruce Freeman, you were at my trial
Who? the man spit out in fear.
Bruce Freeman, maybe this will help your fingers remember the assailant growled as he stopped on mans right hand. Marvin screamed and curled into a protective ball around it.
After a short moment he turned his head back to his attacker and said in a confused voice, That was twenty years ago and I was just a court stenographer.
Nineteen actually, but your smiling face as they read the sentence was all I have seen in my head for the last 19 years, Bruce ruturned and waited for a reply. Marvin just stared back at him too confused to say anything. Freeman began to raise the gun.
Seeing the gun move pulled Marvin out of his daze. Youre killing me for smiling? Marvin asked and followed with A simple smile.
Yes Bruce said taking aim at the old mans head. I have been living with that smile for what has passed as a life since the day of my trial. He added.
But it was just a smile Marvin responded angrily, forgetting his current situation.
To you! Freeman said forcefully.
Bruce, you werent a murderer. You cant end my life for just some trivial reason like this, the broken man begged.
This caused Bruce to laugh Why not? Life has been perpetuated on this planet by something as simple as its feel goods to stick your dick in something. Why should death need more of a reason? He then took a step back and tapped the gun on his head as if it was loosening some of his thoughts. Ok if you need one, here is a reason, thanks to you I stand now free, gun in hand, and prey at my feet. he expounded in an animated fashion.
Bruce locked his gaze on Marvins eyes, smiled, and said. Oh , and just call me Eddie like everyone else,
He returned his aim.
