If I were to describe myself to you, you would think I
was some kind of alien. If I showed you a
picture of myself, you would think me an inhuman freak. If you were to
see me in the flesh, you'd
get the shock of your life. If you knew of my plight, my destiny, chosen
by those who care not for
me, you would pity me.
Am I bitter? I would have to answer yes.
And yet, how could I not be?
Few know of my existence. Or maybe none. I was supposed
to be one of many, but there were
only two of us before the fire came. Now there is only one. I have no
companion, no soul-mate. I
am alone. I suppose that's why I have become so self-centred. There is
simply no-one else to care
about.
Why am I alive? The answer is simple. Because I cannot
die. Oh yes, and I am supposed to fight,
to protect, should the need arise. Since the war, humans have given up
the whole technology thing.
You could say they've "plugged and played", and now it's game
over. Not so much given up, I
should say, rather none of it survived except that which is controlled
by the scientists here. The
countries least developed were the only ones to survive, the ones not
considered important military
targets. Now the West, as it was called, is gone. The radiation is spreading,
has killed off the
remaining countries, all except these last ones here in Africa. The disease
will soon spread here, I
know. So do the scientists who created me. But the ordinary people do
not. They still lead the
same lives, worship the same gods, have the same struggle to survive...
The Western ones called
them primitive, but look what their "advancement" did for them
in the end.
And now they've ruined the earth for all these children
of the earth, too.
I'm talking to myself as if relating everything to
another. Well, I've got nothing else to do. I know
these walls are unbreakable. These scientists aren't stupid. Cruel, evil,
arrogant; but not stupid.
I was about ten years old when I found out how it had begun. Genetically
modified food. Huh!
What a background to come from! I, perhaps the most
astonishing, perhaps the last achievement of
human science, have as a hereditary line a cabbage! Well, I suppose that's
taking things to an
extreme. That was just when they realised what they could accomplish.
Funny that it happened
almost simultaneously with the first human clone.
Still, I digress. As if it matters, when I'm talking
to myself. But still. Genetic engineering. I
wonder if anyone else knew that someone had the bright idea of introducing
the concept to that
tribe in the Pacific who still adhered to cannibalism? Also, it's strange
to think that even after being
educated in Cambridge, those students should want to go back there. I
suppose the idea of working
with Professor Sutton and his team, for the greater good of their homeland,
as they saw it, was a
great attraction. Sutton. How I hate that name. I don't see it as coincidental
that it's so similar to
Satan. In fact, if it came down to a straight choice, I think I'd rather
take my chances with the
Devil.
It's easy to guess what happened, isn't it? The term
"who's for supper" took on a whole new
perspective. Even in cannibalistic societies, it was rather disconcerting
to think that you might end
up eating your own friend, or possibly even family member. Thanks to Sutton
the Devil, no-one
had to take that chance. What he did, and this was the really clever part,
was secretly take a few
million ova from a recently deceased woman, when nobody was watching of
course, and less than a
year later he was able to produce humans out of thin air! His team set
up a huge dynamo, for of
course there was no electricity on the island, and somehow managed to
claim enough land to set up
a laboratory large enough for his purposes. I suppose it was quite easy
for him. He could show the
chieftain any number of "miracles", couldn't he? Light up the
whole sky at midnight, blind
someone with a finger-laser, kill someone without a sound at fifty paces...
I wouldn't put anything
past him.
Not only could he provide human sacrifices at will,
but he could produce them bigger, with extra
limbs... The possibilities were endless. Of course, it was all kept completely
under wraps. No-one
in the so-called "civilised" world ever heard of it.
But why go to so much trouble when there was obviously
no financial profit in it? My guess is that
he foresaw the third world war and took precautions. It wasn't more than
three years before he
came to what is now my home, in Central Africa. This was the only place
far enough away from
obvious military targets to stay unaffected for a while should nuclear
war break out. His idea was
partly to work on a way of reversing the effects of nuclear radiation,
and partly to gain world
domination along the way. Needless to say, in the little community of
which I the centre (and yet
no part of), he is King. His word is law, total and absolute. No-one can
question him or deny him.
So where do I fit in? A couple of years after getting
here, he started on a hugely ambitious project.
He planned to create an army of "Super-warriors", so that should
any neighbouring tribes attempt to
attack, he could send them packing. The effect would also be that his
legend would spread. A
man-god who controls a legion of multi-limbed giants. If he solved the
global pollution problem,
his takeover of the whole world would be a simple proposition. Folklore
would precede him, and
no-one would be left alive who might question the validity of the myths
that had grown up around
him and his new world order.
Much as I hate him, though, I hate his assistant
more. No- one will ever understand the hate I feel,
or how it saddens me that I have no room left for any other emotion, or
any reason to feel
otherwise. I often imagine crushing her to death slowly, letting her gasp
her penultimate breath and
letting her breathe again, just to make her suffering remain a little
longer. How I would love to
cause her the pain she has caused me! I hate myself for feeling like this.
I may be a freak
physically, but I still have the same emotional make-up as any human.
Only there's no room left
for anything but hate, and the hatred of my malice. I hate what I've become.
I hate what they've
made me, turned me into.
But most of all I hate her.
Melissa Spence is her name. Somehow it even sounds
like a spiteful, hurtful name. It conjures up
images of a little girl who pulls the wings off flies. She's the one who
killed the only friend I've
ever had, or ever will have.
His name was Goliath. I, Gargantua, am his younger
brother. As if I need any reminding of my
own name. But the reason, at least, proves that Daniel Sutton had a human
side. His only son was
to be called Gavin. But he was born dead. His mother died during childbirth.
The simultaneous
losses pushed Daniel right over the edge. In some warped way, we were
his sons, Goliath and me.
I think I can even forgive him for what he became, to some extent. Maybe
I have got some room
left for an emotion other than hate. At least that proves I'm still human.
But I can't feel anything
else for Spence.
There is no way can she be human.
We two, Goliath and myself, were the first ones made.
As it turned out, we were the only ones.
Goliath was thirty-two feet high; I myself only twenty-eight. We both
had the same number of
eyes, ears, arms and legs, of course; ten, fourteen, sixteen and twenty.
The one time we actually
went to war, the mere sight of us reduced our opponents to gibbering wrecks;
between us we could
wield as many spears as sixteen of them, and we wouldn't have even needed
to dodge theirs, for our
skin was so tough they would have simply bounced off. As to why we were
supposed to use spears
instead of lasers I can only speculate; I guess it was a sense of tradition.
Although, really, we didn't
need any weapons. But who can know how Sutton's mind worked?
I have to admit though, and I feel ashamed to say
this, even to myself, but seeing the reaction of our
"enemies" gave me a buzz, despite the fact that I bitterly resented
fighting for Sutton and Spence.
Why did I do it? The death-gland, of course. Refusal to obey meant instant
death. I didn't realise
at that time what a good option death would have been.
Although, saying that, we were treated quite well
at first. But then the fire came. No-one ever
found out what caused it, but the effects were devestating and far-reaching.
The fire destroyed all of
the records about our genetic make-up, and much of the equipment in the
lab. The equipment
could be replaced, but not the information. Somehow Sutton and his entire
team had faked their
own deaths, even remote-crashing a 7C7 a few hundred miles away from their
Pacific hideout to
make it look good. I'm not sure how they did it, but they managed to get
more equipment shipped
in after the fire, long after they were supposedly dead. I suppose that's
just the power of money...
Sutton was incredibly rich, having inherited the fortune left by his grandfather,
who owned the
patent on the gene used in most genetically modified foods.
But with the records about how to nurture more giants
gone, the equipment would be all but
useless. That was when Spence showed her true colours. She started experimenting
on my friend,
trying to work out how we worked. The amount of muscle-relaxant they must
have pumped into
him to stop him from fighting back must have been enormous. Poor Goliath.
He was so naive. He
just let them inject him, trusting them. To his cost.
I can still hear him screaming, even though it must
be years since his poor body could finally take
no more.
I can still hear him screaming.
They couldn't try it with me, of course. I was wise
to them by this time, and they wouldn't have got
near me with that hyper- dermic needle. I can't get out of this place,
I know, but they can't stop my
from moving around in it. After what they did to my friend I would kill
all of them on sight.
They know this.
And after all, I was all they'd got left. Maybe the
other tribes started getting a bit bolder. Maybe
they didn't believe in the legends. But then again, maybe Sutton found
a way to reverse the affects
of the radiation. The did it at Chernobyl, using nothing more complicated
than sunflowers. So why
not on a global scale? I know it was one of his ideas.
Or perhaps the radiation spread uncontrollably and
killed them all. Maybe I'm the only living thing
left inside this planet. Why am I alive? Because I cannot die. I'm safe,
undying, here in this prison
cell. I'm immune to all diseases, impervious to radiation, and my body
takes in all its nutrients
from the air around it, so I can't starve. That's the cruelest thing.
The only way I can die is if
someone presses the button and my death-gland activates. If no-one's left
to press the button, I'll be
here forever, unless that asteroid does finally arrive and destroy the
earth, even more completely
than the Third World War did.
So here I am talking to myself again. Stuck inside
these four walls, it's all I can do.
I miss my friend.
My brother.
I can still hear him screaming.
The End
copyright c)2000
Dave Seaman
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