GENESIS -2- THE DYING ROSE

A short lesbian story of blood, obsession and rebirth

“This will ruin you.”

In the main corridor of the emergency operations ward of the Capital City’s central hospital stood an incensed father raging at a doctor in a white coat and white gloves. A single circular glass hovered over her left eye, too shaded to see through. Pinned to the right was a name tag over her heart with one word.

Rose.

“Senator Barnes.” Rose spoke calmy despite the general air of urgency that existed in the emergency unit. “There is no discrimination between patients here. They are all the same.”

“This same nonsense as the receptionist. Do you know who I am?” Barnes smashed against the badge on his chest. “A mere hospital director offending a Party Member? I can shut down this place by the wave of my hand!”

Rose’s expression, an open detachment remained unchanged. “As you wish, Senator.”

She turned, making her way to the operation room. Barnes hastily grabbed her by the elbow.

Before this, other people; patients, attendants and doctors alike remained bystanders, not daring to interfere. Self preservation, no one wanted to be on the bad side of a politician.

Right?

So it seemed. But the expressions on the staffs’ faces once the Director was grabbed says this lack of intervention had very less to do with the Senator.

“You will save my son! How can his life be exchanged for a homeless parasite without a penny to pay? I can easily renovate this entire street as compensation. Even if that man is saved there will be no one to waiting to celebrate him, neither will anyone mourn his death. This can’t be said for a 2^nd tier Party Member’s son. Are you ready to bear the consequences of this loss? This will directly affect the future of our government. Think very carefully now, doctor. Despite being the only person capable to perform this procedure, you want to make the foolish choice of wasting it on a street stain?”

Rose turned. She didn’t respond. Only staring down at the hand grabbing her elbow. This singular eye's iris covered more surface than normal. Like the white sclera was slowly being devoured from within.

Humans are instinctual creatures at critical times. Once her gaze lifted to meet his, he subconsciously pulled away despite his anger.

Only then, did Rose speak. “This has nothing to do with saving people, Senator. I engage in diseases and medicinal research. The condition patient 007 has is very peculiar. It's at its latest stage and a breakthrough is just around the corner. Even though your son’s condition is quite extreme, it was initiated by the most common case of the Marks. Something that could’ve been easily avoided by keeping up with scheduled vaccinations. I cannot waste this once in a lifetime opportunity because of another’s paranoiac beliefs. Now,” She waved a hand. Security officers suddenly appeared, flanking the senator’s sides. “I must begin the process. See yourself out.”

Barnes swore and protested, threatening the hospital, threatening the staff, threatening Rose’s livelihood but he was still ushered out onto the hospital sidewalk. It was the most unseen debacle. In the era where the government’s will was higher than god’s, for a common hospital director to treat him this way, was an obviously stupid move.

And for what? Some miniscule research that can always be restarted?

This was the problem with the younger generation. They were too impulsive.

It was his duty, as an elder, to teach her the ways of the world. So, he made his calls, contacted those so powerful, a single command would have the hospital demolished, even with the people inside. And no one would bat an eye.

But what a wonder. Every single call had ended with an abrupt change of subject once he mentioned who the person he complained about was or a vague distancing from the subject at hand. Yes, he was aware this was a skillful doctor. That was why she was a director at the best hospital in the Colony but so what? Why would that be enough to make a coward of domineering giants???

But alas, he’d emptied his call log and there still wasn’t a difference in his situation before being thrown out of the hospital and now.

His sense of urgency graduated to mild panic. His son couldn’t die. That was the only male in their family. Without him, the primary power for the assembly seat would be transferred to his brother's family once he retires in a few months. His family only moved to the Capital recently. Their position was on shaky ground. He couldn’t pass it on to that fool. He’d rather die.

His focus shifted from the phone to the hospital doors guarded by a long line of flowers on each side. He’d already been thrown out once in public. Better present humiliation than a lifelong one. Of course, once his son was cured, he'd pay the gesture tenfold. But he needed to focus on the important things first.

Everyone desired something. It was the law of nature. There was rarely anything in his position he won’t be able to offer to that woman.

It took 5 minutes. The return, causing a scene for the doctor’s audience and conveying his earnest will to fulfil any request. Anything at all. And to his dismay, it wasn’t until he got down to his knees, head pressed against the floor did the director finally reappear.

Egotistical bitch.

It was fine. All would be returned after the fact.

“Senator.” Rose spoke in the same monotone. “You must really care for your son to lower yourself to this level.”

Hope flared in his chest. She was finally swayed. He got this feet with a faux humble expression. “The love of a father knows no bounds, director.”

“I too have things I care about.” She looked at him deeply, voice clear and steady. “The most important being my research. I do not care for the person. All I need is the right subject.”

Barnes nodded, quickly catching on. “You want me to find a replacement for the straggler once he dies while you’re operating on my son.”

“I already have a replacement.”

Barnes eyes furrowed. Then what do you want? “You do?”

“Yes. You.” She casually pulled out a liquid capsule from her inner coat pocket. “My findings from continuous experiments on 007 has led me to a composition that can force the human body into the current state the test subject is in.”

Before Barnes was a transparent capsule with red liquid sitting center of a white gloved hand. He immediately stepped back, hands in the air as if protecting himself from a physical attack. “What kind of joke is this?”

“My research isn’t a tool for amusement, Senator.”

Barnes looked up to see the waiting expression on her face. She was being 100% serious. This was what she wanted? To create replicate this disease in someone else??

He looked around, waiting for someone to explain the director's strange sense of humour, or ridiculeher or atleast question the proposition.

The emergency unit remained still. Nobody was moving. Even the nurses with patients on wheelchairs stood by the side. As if scared that any motion would redirect the director's attention to them instead.

The neck area around Barnes shirt became slightly dampened. “I…I can find someone else to take it then-”

“This is a remission for your own mistakes, why would someone take on this loan for you?”

“But- This-” His breath picked up. He never once considered this type of payment. “This is ridiculous.”

“This is my condition.” Her head angled, causing the florescent lights to create a glint against her monocle. Perhaps it was the trick of the lights but Barnes saw red. “One that would be off the table in 30 seconds.”

Was she really serious? Who in their right mind makes a to go capsule to replicate a disease? How is that even legal? Why is everyone standing doing nothing? Is she not worried for word of this getting out?

Barnes’ mind was in chaos.

His eyes furtively flicked to the wall clock

Ten seconds down.

Is there seriously no one to call to put her in her place? Time is running out, my son’s time is running out. My family's time is running out.

What was this charade.

Ten seconds.

No, she can’t be serious? Right? But what even is going to happen? The straggler allegedly lived with this condition for years before it reached this state, so it’s not like it’s fatal. It can't be or she won't leave so many witnesses. Who even is capable of perfectly recreating a disease? She can't be that good. This is most likely a regualar drug that induces common health side effects. She's a fake. I've seen cons like her, too many to count in my career. But why do I have to be the one to do this- there’s so many people to use.

“Three.”

“D-director let’s discuss this again-”

“Two” The white glove started to curl around the drug. “One-”

Barnes swiped the pill from her hand and swallowed under a millisecond.

Silence.

30 seconds passed and nothing happened. Barnes let out a nervous, slightly relieved laugh. “Ha… doctor... You can’t go back on your word now. You better save my son.”

“I will.”

Barnes finally smiled. He was about to let out a tired sigh but something got hooked in his throat, like a fish bone blocking his airway. He hit his chest repeatedly, trying to clear whatever was lodged in there. But it didn’t go. And he didn’t breath. He couldn’t. He couldn’t even cough.

He was choking.

Choking in the middle of the emergency ward of the biggest hospital in the city and nobody was doing anything about it.

Spit and saliva frothed at the edges of his lips, a green tint moving along the veins on his pale face. Something between a hiccup and a gasp emerged in sequence from his throat. Hot congealed blood spilled from his mouth. The floor beneath him turned to mush, just like his knees, welcoming him to a horizontal plane.

The feeling of suffocating yet still somehow being alive. It was a pain worse than anything he’d ever experienced. And it wasn't lessening. The terrible pressure in his chest just kept growing heavier until his ribs felt like they were going to shatter under the pressure.

He wanted to die.

He tried to communicate this, tried to croak out a plea for release, tried to meet the director’s eyes. But his vision was obscured, almost black, as if oxygen and light were privileges he was about to lose. He did see one last thing. One last time.

He couldn’t tell if it was a human being or an apparition.

The director stood, hands in pockets, eye a bit widened. Her pupil was dilated, mouth parted as she took slow, deep inhales. The hard exterior that was her facial expression was now cracked in replacement for something akin to euphoria.

She found his misery, euphoric.

He passed out.

As quickly as this expression revealed itself did it disappear, Rose turned away from the motionless body, waving at a junior resident to come over.

“Move the Senator to my second lab. Allow the infected blood to be completely drained before any transfusion can begin. What room is the son? Have my team prepare for the surgery.”

“…Yes Director.”

Just like that, motion returned to the emergency ward in Limbus Hospital.

---

“Doctor. Patient 007. He wishes to speak to you.“

7 hours later, the surgery was completed and the Senator’s son was stable. Rose had just stepped out of the operating room when a house officer appeared beside her. The Director had just performed a miracle surgery so there were stars in this intern’s eye. She made sure to keep her head down because of this.

Rose paused in her tracks. 007 being alive at this hour despite the body’s condition. It was a testament to his willpower.

The intern continued when Rose remained silent. “He’s in a lot of pain but has refused euthanasia. Insists to see you before he dies.“ The intern peaked up to study Rose’s expression warily. There were no changes. Or maybe she wasn’t quick enough to catch any micro-expressions. She was smart enough however to identify that Rose’s iris did a slight upwards tilt. Not an eye roll but as if looking a little up to the ceiling.

She did this when she was interrupted in her research work or someone dropped an instrument during an operation or when a politician was at her office requesting a meeting.

Basically a tell sign that she considered something a nuisance.

To the intern’s surprise, the Director asked. “He is in the same lab as the Senator isn’t he? Someone should be waiting for me at my first office. Let him know I’ll be late.“

The intern did an inward sigh of relief and went on the errand. Subject 007 had kind of grown on the interns and nurses that were in charge of the Director’s research labs. He was very easygoing despite his condition.

Rose led herself to her lab at the other end of the hospital, closing the door behind her. It was a regular room. With three beds, some stools and cabinets of medical equipment, medicines and experiment recordings. The Senator lay of the first bed, pale and unconscious with a tube covering the lower half of his face. Three 100ml bags of contaminated blood had already been filled and he was halfway through the 4th.

A croak came from the other side. The dying man’s eyes were on her. Rose took a seat beside the patient’s deathbed. For the Marks’ virus, whatever part of the body growing the condemnation lines would slowly lose feeling and function. This continued until the entire body was ‘marked’ and became as useless as a corpse. 007’s disease was quite similar to the Marks’ in the sense that it attacked with a purpose.

To debilitate.

The means here were the bones. They transformed from dependable fortresses of protection to sharpened weapons that preyed on the internal organs. Thus the incessant bleeding. It was manageable until the skull grew malicious as well.

“Doctor.“ 007’s eyes, having lost all light was almost completely white. “Is that you?“

Rose didn’t respond. She was still looking at the bags of blood drained from the Senator. They couldn’t be used on living humans but perhaps her plant variants?

“I wanted to say thank you.” 007 continued regardless. He spoke slowly, like pronouncing each word properly took concentrated effort. His gums were engorged from the receding teeth afterall. “I’ve always wanted to be useful. You know, before you picked me off the streets, I had nothing, and nobody. After going bankrupt a decade ago, I was left to fend for myself on the streets. It’s a hard life. Outside this building. I’ve long forgotten my own name. I don’t think anyone outside this hospital even remembers me. No value whatsoever. Then I was brought here. Given a shelter, medication and feeding in exchange for contributing to research. To me, this was a deal with no losses on my part. I finally had some worth. I was finally someone to remember“

He took in several deep breaths that sounded like dry gasps. Like the air being taken in had to be forced through else it would be expelled immediately.

“Doctor…you’re still there right?“ His eyes darted all over the place, unable to shift his head as it had gotten too heavy. Perhaps he could still see a shadow of an outline so he let out a shudder of relief and continued. This time, his words spilled faster. There was a pressing urgency in his tone. “I- I know you’re close to a breakthrough. And…I want to be part of it. I know I told the residents I just wanted to see you one last time. But I was lying. I don’t want to die. I’ve made so many friends in this unit. It may sound bleak but my life restarted in this hospital.“ Tears spilled out from the corners of his eyes. “I’m scared. I don’t want to leave. I finally have hobbies. I don’t want to leave behind the flowers in back garden that I took care of. I don’t want to stop feeling the sun. I don’t want to go. I want to live. Even the thought of a coffin, no, no I don’t want that. I don’t want to be forgotten. Forgotten in the mud. Used to grow other life. What about my life. Please. Please do something, doctor. I know you can. You can save anyone. You’re the miracle doctor. I’ve heard so many people call you that. Please save me doctor-“

“No.”

“W-what?“

“I am not saving you.“ Rose stood up, briefly glancing at the sorry figure on the bed. “A subject past its expiration date holds no value to a researcher. Two hours. That’s your life’s expectancy. I don’t perform miracles. I just do my job.“

“No…no. You can do something. I trust you. I believe in you.“ His voice was firm, hard in denial. “Please. Try something. Anything. There should be something you learnt. A new development from these past few months. Something different.“

But the Director had already turned away to address his replacement.

The flight, fight or freeze response is triggered when by the sympathetic nervous system when the brain perceives danger or severe stress. There is also a burst of adrenaline to support whichever choice is made in that phase. In this scenario, dying was a greater danger than annoying the Director.

A hand latched on to Rose’s shoulder. It dropped as quickly as it came. But it was enough to garner her attention. 007 couldn’t see the expression on her face. And couldn’t sense her emotions. He was too focused on standing straight with no support at all, his knees buckling from the exhaustion that came with the malicious swelling of bones. But he knew she had turned to face him.

“I know you’re the creator of the Marks’ vaccine. Imagine. You were able to curb an apocalypse all by yourself. Your experiments and research has always been to fix ailments, find permanent solutions to chronic illnesses and save humanity. You’re a good person. Good people are gifted. You were blessed by God. God’s soldier. What is one more miracle? This is your ministry and your power defeats the evil in this world. You’ve brought so much hope. I believe in you. I believe in your gift. So please doctor, save me.“

There truly was no expression on Rose’s face. Even the upwards eye tilt wasn’t done. If 007 had seen this, he would’ve sighed in relief, a spark of hope ignited.

Rose was quiet for a long time. Then, she took a step forward. Just a few breaths away. As if about to grant the breath of life. Her voice was steady, clear and almost gentle.

“God does not exist.“ One gloved hand slid over his cheek, almost like a caress. “If he does, he is weak.“ The other hand cupped the back of his head, fingers brushing his swollen ear. “If he isn’t, he is evil.“ Both hands cradled this dying man’s head like it was fragile glass. At this very moment, the light returned to 007. He could see. A blind man could see. These hands had just brought forth a miracle. Her gaze was just as other-wordly. “The last case, unfortunately for you, is that he is irrelevant.“

CRACK!

His head snapped to the right violently, neck bone jutting out against the skin of his throat.

The corpse crumpled to the floor.

“You insult me by such an association.”

The body, which fell sideways was turned upwards by the tip of her shoes. The twisted neck remained in place, eyes still wide open with hope as if yet to catch up with his own death.

“There is no reason to panic.“ Rose, spoke casually, still looking down at the dead man. “You said it yourself, no one would miss him.“ She finally glanced to the left. “Why are you scared?“

The Senator had woken during the conversation between 007 and the Director. His eyesight had returned albeit blurry. The pressure in his chest had lessened too but he felt a soreness deep into his bones, he couldn’t even lift head without the pain of a ton of weights pressing down on him.

He heard it. The quiet crack of the spine. The heavy weight dropping to the floor. The silence brought about by the absence of the man’s pleading voice.

He heard it all.

He wanted to speak, remind her of how he had a family and was a well known figure. How she couldn’t replicate what just happened to him. He wanted to warn her.

Threaten her.

But as the Director made her way to him, only two syllables emerged from his tube covered mouth.

“Doctor…“

Just like 007, Rose calmly took a seat beside him.

“Senator.“

Beads of sweat dripped down Barnes’ face despite the air conditioned room.

“Earlier today, you spoke about how everyone had things they care for. You, your political position, 007, his worth and I, my research.“ She lightly glanced at the open tremors in his hands. “Next, your dignity, 007, his attachments and I, my personal space.“ She spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “It seems we’ve all lost a bit of our treasure today.“

Barned remained cautiously silent.

“A bit embarrassing to admit but I’m terribly sensitive when it comes to physical contact. You see, I had a lot of that growing up so I try to abstain from it now. Lest, I revert to my old ways.”

“But telling you this doesn’t matter, does it? When pushed to the edge, humans fall back to instinct. Despite 007 being knowledgeable about my rules, he still broke them once desperation hit it’s peak.”

“Senator.“ Rose folded her hands back on her lap with a despondent sigh. “You were already so difficult to deal with before you became a subject. Is it worth treating you?“ Her eye inadvertently glanced to the still corpse at the other side. Just for a second. A second long enough for Barnes to catch. “Should I just let you go?“

The fear, which caused him to remained silent, doubled, forcing him to finally speak.

“This is a hospital. Foul play won’t go unnoticed.“ Barnes huffed between blood clots. “Everyone is a witness to my becoming a patient. I can’t die here.”

It was quiet for a while. Barnes couldn’t muster the courage to look directly at her. But he couldn’t look at the corpse either. Couldn’t bear it. So his gaze stayed right above her shoulder.

“Who said anything about death?”

Barnes eyes automatically fell to the body on the floor. Rose’s body tilted a bit, blocking the view. “Like you said, the both of you are on different classes.“ Her fingers drummed against her knee, thoughtful. “Same problem, different solutions.“

She took to her feet and walked away. There was an obvious loosening in the tension of Barnes’ shoulders. She was finally leaving.

“Did you know?“ Her voice sounded from another side of the room. From the cabinets. “There are three hallmarks in the brain during hypnosis. Decreased activity in the DAC, increased connections between the DPC and insula areas of the brain ,and thus a drop in connections between the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex and the default mode network. The combined effects would be a lesser control in decision making and self awareness. It would be in our best interest to maximize these effects on you.”

Was she going to ‘brainwash’ him? His back stiffened again, overly cautious. No. It was fine. He could just pretend to be affected. Their family line had strong mental fortitude. He could resist it. This was merely a battle of willpower. This he could handle. How did he ascend to the current position in the party? By being weak? Of course not.

Rose reappeared beside him. Some things were placed on the surface above so he could only see the single role of medical tape in her hand.

His left eyelid was suddenly pulled back, so far back it merged with his eyebrow. This fusion was held down by tape that stopped by his hairline.

…Was this some type of visual hypnosis? Like the ones shown on tv shows where a moving spiral or a ticking clock hand was used?

“But hypnosis is not a one time solution and easy to break out of. It may also interfere with the research as neurological signals fluctuate differently during that period.“

Responsive tears due to the dryness of his exposed eye gathered at the edges.

SHING.

Following a sound of metal scrapping against the surface of the table, a sharp instrument appeared in his line of sight. Its handle was short and wooden while the rest of the length at least 25cm long. In the doctor’s hands, it looked more like a sword than a medical instrument.

“There is, however, a quicker, much more efficient way to get similar results.” Her other hand appeared, wielding a small hammer looking tool with its head seeming to weigh at least two tonnes. “All I need is brief contact with the prefrontal cortex.“

The Senator’s mind was blank for half a second.

“Wait wait wait wait!” His legs pushed hurridly against the bed in a frantic effort to exponentially multiply the distance between himself and the tip of the icepick. Well atleast he tried. The only motion being output was the weak digging on his heels against the bedsheets. His body couldn’t follow through with his state of mind. “Don’t- don’t do this. Please don’t do this.“

The icepick bent to an obtuse angle relational to the horizontal plane, an invisible straight line connecting the tip to the very top of his eye socket.

Barnes was screaming. The research lab was deathly silent but he was screaming. Blood frothed out of his mouth in waves, hot air fogging the tube as the contaminated blood trickled down. The nearly full bag bubbled from the pressure made from his terror and dismay.

He needed to escape. Needed to get the hell out of here. Away from this mad woman. Away from this containment. The place was littered with real doctors. He just needed to leave this room.

The tip of the icepick rested softly against the smooth, soggy membrane of his eye socket.

No no no no no. This isn't happening. This can't be happening right now. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. Get up. MOVE. Someone. Anyone. Help. Help. Help. Help me.

SOMEBODY HELP ME.

DO SOMETHING!

A gloved hand pulled the mallet up.

I’m scared.

And down.

Barnes’ body jerked violently in bed but no sound erupted. Not even a gasp.

And up.

Outside, a plane flew over the building.

And down.

Thick trails of greyish-pink matter mixed with blood rolled down the Senator’s cheekbone.

Up.

Down.

The tension in his legs released, and so did a mix of fluids that soiled the white sheet between his legs.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

Up.

Down.

With only the wooden handle left out, the ice pick seemed like an Excalibur, waiting to be pulled out by the chosen. But this wasn’t a tale. The Rose, The Wizard and The King were all the same.

And how unfortunate it was, for this monarchy’s subjects.

Half an hour later, the intern reappeared in the lab room by the Director’s summon. The senator was still unconscious it seemed. Though, he didn’t appear as troubled as before. There was a serenity about him. Perhaps the doctor gave him a painkiller. She wasn’t certain why he had a bandage around his eye though. Had it already reached the point of partial blindness? 007 didn’t hit that stage until the 5th month.

Speaking of, she looked to the other side.

Her back hit the closed door as she jerked away in surprise.

Rose, who had been looking outside the window for a while, turned at the sound of her gasp. She'd replaced her gloves after the cleanup. “You may begin blood transfusion for the patient. He will remain in a short coma for the next three days. Have his family visit only after I’ve cleared it.”

“…Will do.“ The intern couldn’t help but glance at 007 on the floor. “Doctor…“

“Start processing the corpse.“ She glanced at the empty deathbed. “His final wish was to have the euthanasia administered by me. He didn’t want to be remembered. Stressed the importance of moving on. Specified to be incinerated, his remains scattered across the front garden to help the weeds grow. Something about blessings and reincarnation.”

The resident’s eyes softened, heart tightening with an awaited grief.

“Sounds like him.“

---

Métis held his briefcase against his legs, resisting the urge to tap his foot on the floor impatiently. The receptionist, a kind young nurse had offered him a seat at the waiting room but he rejected it. That was an hour ago. Now, he was considering it as the shift was changing and the next receptionist may not be as considerate.

The sound of familiar footsteps had him straightening quickly and looking back, the urge to sit transforming to the need to hug his briefcase to his chest.

“Director.“

Rose walked past him and unlocked her main office door. After taking her seat, the bottom drawer was pulled open. In there was a stack of pitch black paper and several colored pens. She took a sheet and a white inked pen. Leaning forward on her desk, she signed the top left with a name and address.

007

13-02-3022

Limbus Hospital

The Rose.

“Sit down.” She said, not looking up.

Métis’ shoulders visibly relaxed and he took a cautious seat across her. He made sure to keep his eyes up, burying his curiosity. It was a common knowledge the Director wrote letters whenever a patient died in her hospital. No matter who it was. It was presumed to be a farewell letter. This was something that moved a great number of people. Workers and patients alike. It was one of the many reasons to ideate her.

If Métis hadn’t known better, he’d be awed by her considerations too.

Not wanting to waste longer than necessary in the room, he pulled out the balance sheet for the past two weeks. For the Marks’ Vaccine, Solue and its antithesis, Ekstasi. The former, Tag S showed a steady decline and the latter, Tag E, a sharp rise in procurement.

The Marks’ spawned over a decade ago. The introduction of the vaccine two years later by the Solutions Pharmaceuticals Limited company raised their stocks past the roof. In the third year of the virus, SPL, the primary manufacturers of Solue had the highest annual gross earnings across all colonies.

According to his research, the Director was merely a junior surgeon and researcher in a public hospital at the start of the virus. But she now owned her own hospital, the biggest in the State and had enough connections to take a 2nd Class Party member’s threat as child’s play. Such privileges were gained from being the sole creator of the Marks vaccine.

But times had changed. Ever since a user died from suicide after alleged over dosage, radical groups spread out, preaching against the use of this vaccine as the major pandemic has already passed and there was no need for it. This didn’t affect Rose per se, she had long sold the royalties to SPL. There were no commercial benefits nor consequences with whatever happened with Solue.

In the last year, the enforcement of Solue had lessened to a minuscule fraction depending on the colony. Not a month later, an anti vaccine had become popularly distributed by a shadow dealer. The original vaccine might have cured the body but there were significant side effects on the mental health, or so a partition of the general public claimed.

This anti vaccine appeared to reverse the alleged side-effects. It was rushed for. The same element used in creating the popular narcotic Candy was also used in the anti vaccine—albeit a purified, harmless version. Even if it didn’t cause addition, Candy addicts began to fall to Ekstasi as supplement when they couldn’t afford Candy.

A high end anti-vaccine with the purest elements that could reverse mental side effects, was affordable even to the common man and consistently distributed despite the illegality of it.

All risk, no significant reward. A losing game. This was how normal people would view the business. However, to a researcher, what was the quickest way to get results?

An abundance of test subjects in varied controlled environments.

Rose glanced at the balance sheets placed before her with mild interest before focusing back on writing her letter. Her handwriting was surprisingly the same as an average doctor’s.

Indecipherable.

The only tell she was listening as he gave his bi-weekly financial run down was a slight nod every two minutes. “There’s been a spike in market audience for Tag E. Over 40%. Net income peaked by 70% as of yesterday, probably due to the holiday tomorrow and cross-colony travels. ‘Campaign’ operations for the next half year have been set in motion and ready for review today at Saints’ Hotel.” He collected the sheets back into the envelop. The Director was now carefully reading over what she’d written. It was a tremendous month for them in terms of finances and ‘marketing’ but the director didn’t seem that much interested. Métis’ knees jerked, he spoke slowly. “There was an incident on my way here. A side effect of Tag E.“

The eye tracking words on paper finally stopped.

Métis readily passed over an envelop containing several images he got the processed en route to the hospital.

“A report from YTA airlines. A passenger- no a 4 month old baby experienced extreme containerized pressure and exploded from within. From my sources, I believe it was fed Tag S, then immediately after, Tag E just a few moments before the incident.”

Pristine gloves laid out the 7 images on the desk like a mini deck of cards. All of different angles of a dismembered body. Three of them were of the parts already in a containment box while others were of the parts still spluttered across the plane aisle and seats.

“How long was the plane in the air?”

“30 minutes.”

“Landed now?”

“No. ETA 30 more minutes, doctor.”

Rose gave a final, brief glance over all 7 pictures. Her gaze, for a split second lingered on the blonde hair at the edge of the last one, most likely from another passenger. “Have the subject E39 remains collected and sent to my lab. I want to have it on my table tomorrow.”

“...I’ll contact the airlines now.”

“Anything else?”

Bile rose at the back of his throat. He took another glance at the table. At the perfectly arranged images of one of the many victims of a relentless researcher who had lost all morals. The same doctor who this hospital’s patients looked up to. Another statistic, another hallmark, another recorded test case in exchange for the innocence of human life. It was disgusting.

He was disgusting.

The news of the plane incidents hadn’t brought him any despair. He hadn’t rushed here and was unable to sit waiting because of indignation. The former had brought him hope, the latter was due to excitement.

He had no idea what this person was trying to find by breeding such a large audience. Maybe when he started, he was only slightly curious of the goal, more resentful than anything else. But the focus had shifted. He had looked forward to the doctor’s reaction. And now that it was so lukewarm, he felt disappointment.

Disappointed that this gruesome death of an innocent wasn't entertaining enough for her.

When did he start craving her approval?

She wasn’t even charismatic. There was never a grand speech or display that made people want to work under her. No pretty lies nor false promises. Just deals. Fair ones. It always seemed fair at the start. How many other people had fallen victim under this spell and sold their morality for the chance of satisfying the devil? And how many other people carried back home this self loathing, reproach and pointless sense of loss every day of their lives?

He’d become too desensitized to care.

---

The Saints’ Hotel master suite was situated at the very top of the building, stretching 20 meters wide. The main room, with its undulating ceilings and renaissance architecture had a wide balcony where one could view the entire of the Main city of the capital Colony. The hotel’s height even rivalled the Central Clock.

A screen covered half the west wall of this luxurious room. This screen was divided into 20 rectangular boxes, each streaming footage of a public figure- be it celebrity or politician in their private residence.

This sight greeted Rose when she stepped into the apartment. And so did a man, so thin his bones seemed to poke out of his skin. He’d shuffled out of the balcony to the center room once he heard her return. A giant bundle of wire was held in his arms. Despite the obvious malnutrition, he had a grace about him. This wasn’t inborn but learned over the years.

“Director.” He stuttered, joints trembling as if it were being tugged by an invisible string. Jaundiced eyes skittering about. “I-I thought you were not coming back today- Well I- I’ve done what you asked. I was going to test the setup and then send the footage and then leave I think I don’t remember what was I... Ah, well since you’re already here…”

Rose took the extended remote controller from his unsteady hands. This simple device had 20 digit buttons at the first half, 4 arrows at the center, and another set of buttons at the bottom. These buttons facilitated direct control to each room’s entry, exit and primary emergency mechanisms. The entire process of infiltrating each house, setting up surveillance and hijacking its security took roughly 2 months. In view were potential Ekstasi publicists, currently legacy Candy customers.

The man, named Inuit, watched Rose test out these mechanisms, offering input whenever he was prompted. 5 minutes of testing and Rose approved the setup. Inuit sighed in relief. And then, looked at her hopefully.

“Direc- doctor. Uh…please…since you’re here.” He wrung his hands over the other, looking around like something was going to pop out from a corner to maul him. His palms were moist from fear. From anticipation. “Can I get another gig? And and an advance? Can I get an advance? Please? This…this one was 20. A candy, a head, haha that’s what I said back then. Do you get it? But it’s already finished. So…just 10. 10 for the advance. How is that? Or no. 5 is enough actually. That can work. You know what? How about the entire pay be 5? Just 5 right now and I’ll get to work. Like now. Please. Please doctor.”

At some point in his begging, Inuit had gotten to his knees. It couldn’t be known if it was by his will or because he was took weak to stop the tremors that caused his shoulders buckle and knees to knock against each other. His skin was so pasty, so slimy, the sweat coating his face looked like thick white particles of vomit.

Rose took a seat on the white sofa facing the screen. From her coat pocket, she retrieved a folded black letter and opened it slowly. It was the same letter from the afternoon. She glanced at the letter. Then the kneeling figure. Then the letter again. Then flipped it around.

The back was blank.

“Do you have a lighter?“

Inuit’s eyes brightened, he dug into his pocket then crawled- or at least tried to, his elbow kept hitting the floor-forward. But he finally made it to Rose and extended the lighter politely.

Idly playing with the lighter across her fingers, she asked casually. “Should I burn it now?”

Inuit’s mind raced. Though his memories were merely fogy afterimages at this point, he recalled the rumor that the doctor had a habit of writing letters? If you took your time to do something, you won’t want to destroy it right?

“No…“

The room was quiet, save for Inuit’s labored breathing as he tried to keep himself kneeling upright.

Rose nodded and leaned forward, whispering to the trembling figure. “Go get the safe then.“

A bit of color returned to Inuit’s face. He jumped up happily, a new strength seeping into his bones. He was gone and back with a black box under a minute.

The safe, a 135 x 90 x 300 glass cabinet had crystal imprints outlining a capital C. Rose used her thumb print to open the cover. The box held 10 syringes full with a sparkly liquid of a deep pink.

The purest form of Candy.

The syrup.

Inuit’s eyes widened, pupils dilating. This was his first time laying eyes on the real deal. Candy syrup was only a rumor, a wish from street addicts, and a promise from district dealers. He swallowed, mouth dry, he had only been able to afford low end candy pieces for the past years with his growing debts and medications. This gig that he’d stumbled upon only because the last person overdosed was the first and last opportunity he’d ever have to be in the vicinity of this level of purity. What…what did it feel like-

“Boring.”

Inuit blinked, reluctantly looking up from the assembly of syringes. “...What?”

“Repetitive.“

He wasn’t very perceptive but he could tell the doctor’s mood wasn’t quite right. So, he shut his mouth, not daring to worsen whatever situation he might’ve fallen into. The director didn’t speak again. Just looking at him with an expression akin to apathy.

The silence in the room was palpable.

“You were a sportsman once, weren’t you?”

“...No.” He shifted on his feet. “A ballet dancer.”

“Oh.” She rested her chin of her hand, considering. “How about a performance then?”

“A performance?”

“Mm. As compensation.”

“I haven’t danced in years...” This addiction had cost him his job, family, talent and self.

“One last performance.” She removed two syringes from the box. “Not too expensive for two shots right?”

He toppled fell over .”T-two??”

“One before and after the performance. Here,” She extended the syringe to him with zero care. “Take the first.”

Two minutes produced an empty syringe bottle, a new needle puncture and an Inuit very far from sobriety.

“Another one.” Inuit’s voice wasn’t the same timid squeak anymore. It was demanding and thirsty. “Give me the second now.”

“The performance.” A desperate junkie wasn’t the safest to be around yet Rose remained unguarded in her position. ”And remember, if I’m not the least bit entertained at the end, deal is off.”

Inuit eyed the box of candy not even 4 feet away. He could get it. Get it all now. He could win a fight against her right? Even though he’s a bit sickly, he should have more physical benefits over her as a man.

Fully inebriated, he still didn’t dare act on his instinct. Instead, he racked his foggy brain for how to fulfil the task. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a bit that would be entertaining enough. He could barely manage a plié.

“No stimulating idea, do you have?”

“Not yet Director…”

“Fine. Go get the stool you used for installations. And find a wire long enough from what’s left. Say,” Rose looked at the chandelier hung from the lowest part of the ceiling. “5 meters long.“

Albeit confused, he got the required items. She then pointed to the stem. “Tie one end there.”

Slow. His brain was too slow. So he just nodded and did what he was told, not fully understanding why. As long as he got his second hit. Though the stool was high with extra steps, he still had to go on his tippy toes to tie the wire to the chandelier’s length. His right eye shut tightly after having a bead of salty sweat slip in. It was hard concentrating and staying steady as the stool’s circumference was barely wide enough to fit both feet. Deep in Inuit’s mind, alarm bells started to ring. But not only was the sound too dull, a louder one overpowered it.

This sound came from Rose’s phone.

It was a familiar song. Every ballet dancer knew it. Even after years of addiction, he couldn’t forget this tune. A popular piece used for a ballerina’s very first official recital. It was 15 minutes long.

“I used to have these toys as a child. The winding ones where you could turn the key at the back for it to perform. Then you had to do it again after a while. And again. And again. And again. What do they call them again? Automatons? Yes. For a ballerina, the equivalent of such a performance would be a recurring pirouette no?”

“Well.. uh…I guess. Something like that.”

“But something is missing. There’s no winding and unwinding mechanism. No metal spring of sorts.” The song played serenely at the background. “Tie the other end of the wire around your neck.”

“…What?”

There was no response. The song kept playing. Rose’s steady gaze remained on him.

A waiting gaze.

The song kept playing.

If this piece ends without the director being entertained, I won’t get my other shot.

Confusion apparent in his features, he slowly raised the other end and tied it loosely around his neck. His hands trembled. Not from the drugs.

The song kept playing.

He shuddered. The candy was kicking in harder. A giant eye, barely confined by the walls of the room stared down at him. Its monstrous iris made it hard to breath. Too hard. Like he was in a grave oxygen debt. He swallowed.

And tied the noose harder.

The wire was loose between ends. It wasn’t taut at all. If he simply spun and reversed every ten seconds, it would be fine. Winding and unwinding. Obviously what the director wanted. That was all.

Obviously.

Not wanting to waste more time and lose Rose’s interest completely, he started his performance. It was clumsy. He wasn’t even able to keep his foot on his knee. Every few seconds, it dropped to regain stability. It was awful.

An untalented ballerina on a ladder, the memorable recital music playing in the background, a screen filled with oblivious prey in their habitat and a wilting rose.

5 minutes into the play, the rose spoke, voice barely audible over the music.

“God is dead, Earth is full and Hell is starving.“

“The suffering of humanity and the filthiness of the soul. This is a devil’s greatest feast. I once pursued the former. Again and again and again. A futile chase to maximize this thing they call misery. What didn’t I do?” There was a mania in her eyes that couldn’t be contained. “What didn’t I possibly do.”

Her coat sleeves were pulled up roughly to reveal several forgotten scars on her dark skin. It was without a start or an end or a format. Like a child’s coloring book. Except the only crayon available was of the color red.

This view of her arms morphed into an uglier afterimage. Of rotting skin. Of an oozing black pus dripping from slack pores. She dug into those pores with her fingers. Instead of blood, a million infinitesimally small roses bloomed out from the melting void within.

“It didn’t work. I couldn’t offer my suffering. In a quest to taint what did not exist, I cultivated external suffering. Rightly tortured souls I sent everyday on a black platter. Every single day. Tens, hundreds, thousands.” Her breathing was rushed, unstable like the words coming forth were a regurgitation. “For it is only the most impure of souls that can be gifted eternal damnation. How much more? How many more sins need be committed to be condemned? How much more appetizing do I need to be to be edible? It’s useless. You cannot become what already is.“

“So,” She slowed down, regulating her breathing, eye scouring her surroundings. The entire living room was as if from an 80s flick. Standard monochrome with lagging motions. A tiny spot of color sparked around the toy’s neck but it was too faint, too distant and easily went back to monochrome every few seconds. “Only in these brief moments of another’s despair may I find a little bit of respite.”

She looked away.

“But that too has become useless. Boring. This daily cycle. I’ve watched it too many times to count. The hopelessness of humanity. A broken record. An overwatched play. And it’s festering. This longing for the misery that’s never wholly mine to claim. How is it, that an endless night is waiting yet my day remains the brightest?”

A tiny, almost imperceptible scream broke through her monologue and the recital music.

Rose’s attention was brought back to the screen.

It originated from the 13th section. The one broadcasting a streamer’s bedroom. A streamer, who was a regular customer for Candy Syrup and had a habit of taking it around this time at night. Any other day, Rose would’ve dismissed the scream being a result of common hallucinative effects caused by Candy but the shadow of another person caught her eye.

Thus, the 13th screen was put on focus.

Rose watched.

Her hands tightened imperceptibly over the controls.

The recital music came to a crescendo.

The toy was running out of gas.

Honey tried to sound the alarm.

Rose disabled it.

Climaxing violins sang from the phone.

Honey tried for the door.

Rose disabled that too.

The puppet slipped.

Honey dropped to her knees.

Rose rose to her feet.

A choking from behind.

A quiet mourning in front.

“It’s okay. I’m going to fix this. I’m going to fix you.”

A heart torn open by tooth and nail.

A phantom hand caressed an idle heart.

A head drooped to the side in a final bow.

Dark skin, battered blonde hair, torn clothes, a broken tooth and a bloody mouth.

Two loud heartbeats.

THUMP.

THUMP.

A resurrection of the living.

“Now,” Rose heard herself whisper. “This is interesting.”

COMPLETE GENESIS TRILOGY HERE