Invictus by
Vyshali Manivannan
Excerpt
He
was awake. He had been awake for a
long time, cradled by the slight, lulling motion of the warm liquid
surrounding him, but now he was awake enough to move, to discover and delight
in the limited range of his constricted movements.
Something outside was calling him, tempting him, as he pressed pale
white hands against the glass capsule that served as his prison.
It was something just beyond the narrow confines of his prison, just
beyond the range of his liquid-blurred vision.
And although he couldn’t see it, although he had no more sense than a
newborn as to its implications, he instinctively knew what it was.
Light.
And
he knew that it was great and all-encompassing, and that he wanted to go to
it, and he struggled against the confines of his glass prison until the cruel
windows fell away and all the liquid flooded out and
He collapsed on the floor,
breathing hard, choking a little because he had never before taken breath, his
limbs leaden and unwilling to move now that there was no supporting liquid to
ease his movements and buoy his body. And
his vision seemed so exotically clear, snapping photograph memories of the
broken capsule, of the liquid-drenched floor, of the room and all the strange,
alien things in it. And then he looked up and was blinded by the intensity of
the light flashing over his face, and he turned his dazzled eyes away and let
that beautiful warmth kiss his back and shoulders and neck.
Then he turned those eyes on
himself, on his long-fingered hands, on the pale skin of his naked arms and
legs and chest, and he was suddenly made aware of a chill, and he perceived cold
as the word for this feeling. He
marveled at the new feeling just as he marveled at his new being, at sitting
on the floor amidst broken glass and pools of water, and being
there. It was a while before he
broke that ecstasy of breathing and began to investigate the room.
Furniture,
he perceived, and books and drawings
of some kind that he couldn’t place, and—reaching out two still-shaky
hands to touch the surrounding metal barrier—and walls,
and he stood upon a floor, and there
was a ceiling above him.
He wondered vaguely what lay outside the walls and floor and ceiling,
but something inside kept him from rushing wildly out to look for himself.
He couldn’t understand what
it was that kept him from doing so, and he couldn’t understand how he was
suddenly aware of things that he didn’t remember knowing, and he couldn’t
understand why he was here bathed in that beautiful, beautiful light, alone in
a room he didn’t understand in a world he didn’t understand.
And something was aching within his chest, painfully, so painfully that
it brought him to his knees and stung his eyes with liquid, and he threw back
his head and screamed—a high, animalistic scream of anguish and loneliness
and confusion.
And, almost instantaneously, it seemed, a door adjoining opened and someone rushed in, slowing to an amazed halt just a few feet away from him. “So soon?” the newcomer breathed. “It’s a wonder you aren’t dead for your effort.”
He regarded the stranger with
open hostility and suspicion. Human,
he perceived, man—that was the
creature’s title. The man
didn’t look so much different—except that his skin was paler and he wore
some kind of covering over his body, and he didn’t seem so confused about
his surroundings.
“Are you all right, then?”
the man inquired.
Yes.
I am all right.
“Yes,” he said, the words
coming easily to his mouth but tasting strange on his tongue.
“Good.”
The man came closer and knelt on the floor beside him.
“My name is Dr. Kaine,” he said.
“I am your—your father, so to speak.
I brought you here. You are
mine to command, and you will obey me in all things.”
The man’s expression turned hard and impassive, then softened
slightly. “Understand?”
He nodded slowly, amazed to
find that he could comprehend each and every word his creator said.
“I’m cold,” he said.
Kaine smiled.
“Yes, you probably are. Are
you much good at walking yet? Good.
Follow me.” The man stood
and led him out of the room through a vast maze of hallways, but for some
reason he knew instinctively that he could easily find his way back.
“Sir?” he ventured.
The man chuckled.
“You may call me Dr. Kaine.”
“Dr. Kaine, then,” he
said. “What am I?”
“A bioroid.”
Kaine rounded a corner and opened a door, gesturing for his creation to
go in. “You are the match of any
robot or human.”
He entered the room, looking with wonder at the bed and the closet and the cloth draped on the bed—clothes, he perceived. “Am I the match of you?” he asked, fingering the clothes. Vaguely he wondered what a bioroid was, but the same self-restraint that had governed him earlier prevented him from asking.
“Yes and no.
It is against the rules for you to hurt any human, and it is against
the rules for you to hurt or disobey your creator.
So you may be my match, but you can’t do much about it.”
He looked at Kaine,
questioning. “What do I do with
these?”
“Wear them.”
The man made a pantomime of getting dressed.
“There’s a mirror over there.”
After a few moments of
puzzling, he managed to don the clothes and then crossed the room to the
mirror. He was startled to see
himself staring out of the silvery surface—and even more startled to see his
surprise showing in the eyes of his reflection.
He narrowed his eyes at his reflection and watched as it copied his
action, glaring out of mere slits of stormy gray.
Finally deciding that it was pointless to threaten the mirror any
longer, he let his eyes travel down the length of his reflection, taking in
his sharp features, his long blond hair, his aristocratic face, the
already-proud set of his jaw. And
he turned to face his creator.
Kaine was smiling, but the corner of his mouth twitched spasmodically,
transforming what should have been a gesture of nicety into just the opposite.
“You came a bit late, you know. You were supposed to come in time to
show the world that the unification of science and humanity could be
accomplished…but at least you came in time to prove to myself that it could
be done.”
“There’s another?” A wildly
jealous feeling sprang up, unrestrained, in his heart.
“Yes, there is,” Kaine said calmly, sitting down on the bed.
“I never much cared for him, or for his creator.
But don’t go thinking that gives you a reason to terrorize
them…because…I simply won’t have it, now.”
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