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@options escape noedit @esc system .screen 1 .cls .pcx abad.pcx 1,1 .wait 20 .get car1c.img .move (10,160)-(185,81) steps=43 .get carbg.img .put 185,81 .wait 5 .cir center=(200,97) radius=9 color=1 .paint center=(200,97) color=1 .wait 20 .loc 25,21 .pause .cls .pcx cgalogo 0,0 .loc 24,25 .pause .cls .col 13,0 .loc 7,3 Copyright (C) 1992 by D. W. Skrabanek .line (2,80)-(400,80) .line (2,83)-(400,83) .wait 5 .loc 14,3 Portions Copyright (C) 1983-1990 by TexaSoft, Alan C. Elliott .line (2,140)-(400,140) .line (2,143)-(400,143) .loc 21,3 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED .wait 5 .loc 24,20 .pause .screen 0 .col 5,0 .cls .LOC 4,1 .cen (*FOREWORD*) .loc 7,1 At a time when the world is gripped by uncertainty, when the news daily carries stories of drought, ozone depletion, epidemic disease, police states, "smart" bombs, cryptic technology, and a general indifference by people toward it all, one has to wonder about the future of this planet and the people on it. What will life be like for future generations, forty or fifty years from now? D.W. Skrabanek has considered these possibilities and crafted a story about a future world of domes and moral degradation. People have relinquished control of their lives to a Central Controller, and when they attempt to regain that control, they find much to their dismay that they cannot. Perhaps THE ABADDON FACTION contains more than a seed of truth about our society and the direction it is headed, but let's hope not. --The Editors / S & S Press .loc 24,3 .pause .col 14,0 .cls .loc 7,1 This program is shareware, not free or public domain software. It is fully copyrighted and protected by law (all rights reserved). If you enjoy this story, please send a donation of $1 or $2 to help us continue to supply software like this and to promote the development of new tales by writers like D.W. Skrabanek. Thanks. Also, see our catalog of additional offerings included on this disk. Again, thanks for trying this program published by S & S Press. We hope that you enjoy it and that you will strive to support shareware. S & S Press P.O. Box 5931 Austin, TX 78763 .loc 24,3 .pause .screen 1 .cls .pcx helmet.pcx 1,1 .loc 24,3 .pause @label:begin .screen 0 .col 15,1 .cls .col 15,4 .loc 7,1 @case(*123456789:c1,c2,c3,c4,c5,c6,c7,cat,end1*) center border shadow THE ABADDON FACTION 1 - Chapter 1 2 - Chapter 2 3 - Chapter 3 4 - Chapter 4 5 - Chapter 5 6 - Chapter 6 7 - Chapter 7 8 - Catalog 9 - Exit @end .loc 21,3 .col 0 You can exit this program at any time by pressing the ESC key. .loc 24,3 .pause @label:end1 @stop menu @label:c1 .screen 0 .col 0,15 .cls .loc 5,1 .cen(*Chapter 1: Trouble Brewing*) .loc 8,1 A blue and black aircar whizzed by him, tooting its syncopated horn, weaving in and out of the morning traffic headed into the city-dome. "Idiot!" Bruno shouted in the silence of his own car. He could hear the radio blaring in the other aircar, already a hundred yards ahead. The music was the approved version of a current favorite. Its melody seemed to have a curiously familiar sound to it, one he recalled from his youth, and the sound stuck in Bruno's head. Then his anger welled over the melody. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Probably from one of the subdomes," Bruno murmured to himself. "He should ride an airbus." Bruno took his recalcitrator from his coat pocket and casually aimed it at the errant vehicle. "Good thing this sucker works outside the dome," Bruno grinned. "But then, why shouldn't it?" He pressed the orange button centered on the small black box to register his complaint. He was surprised to see the blue and black car, and its driver, disappear in a white flash. "Already his thirteenth civil complaint," Bruno said to himself, feeling a bit guilty for his part in the whole thing. "And so early in the morning. Ah, but he had it coming," Bruno thought, trying to justify his action. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 And even so early in the day, he himself was thinking of Erica, of how much he had missed her the night before. He could never justify such thoughts to the Central Controller, but he could not put them down. He hated himself for having the thoughts, but more, he hated the life that disallowed such thoughts. Bruno glared at the small bottle of pills lying on the dashboard. How easy it would be to take one, to ease his guilty conscience. Indeed, he could do away with his conscience, because the pills would make him a good citizen. They had been specially formulated by the Central Controller, and most people took them without fail. Some people had even gone so far as to have computer chips implanted in their brains to curb their basic drives and ensure their complacency. And now, racked with guilt, Bruno thought that maybe he would be better off eating the pills. But, as he did every day, he refused and suffered. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Bruno wondered what Erica had done the night before, if she had thought of him. He had spent the night, according to the law, with his other spouse, Doreen, in the next dome. Every other night he had to spend with Doreen, so that he would not grow possessive or jealous. Such was the law of the city-domes. The Central Controller had decreed that such actions were necessary to preserve the society, and so it had to be. Bruno did not like it, he would rather be with Erica always, because he was jealous and he did want to possess her. But disobedience meant reprogramming at least, eradication at worst. And Doreen was not that bad a mate. She was attractive, sturdy, dutiful--though she did annoy Bruno by always comparing him to her other younger spouse, Damon. Damon did this and Damon did this, he heard ringing in his head. Damon could perform in bed for hours, whereas Bruno fell asleep after fifteen minutes. Just what was his problem, Doreen always wanted to know in her whiny voice. And Bruno never had a satisfactory answer. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Nor did he know what Erica had done the night before with her younger spouse, Lansing. Unlike Doreen, though, Erica never mentioned Lansing in Bruno's presence. For that Bruno was glad, because Lansing was Bruno's supervisor, and he heard enough from Lansing to make him all the more jealous. Lost in his human nature, Bruno did not notice as his aircar passed into the pressurized interior of the dome. Only when he felt the lurch of the wheels unfolding did he notice where he was. His car became a part of the traffic gridlock in the city. He punched in a few numbers on the keypad on the dashboard, hoping the central computer would get him to the Scout headquarters. As often as not, the traffic computer fouled up and sent him to the far edges of the dome. And then he was always blamed for being late for his appointments. He could have steered the car himself, of course, but he preferred to let the computer do it for him. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 As the car rolled along slowly, Bruno gazed up at the glass dome of the city. More than once he had thought of breaking one of those great glass panels. Then the poisoned air of mankind's history would rush in and put an end to all its folly. Bruno relished the thought, but he made sure it remained only a thought. Never had he mentioned his fantasy, not even to Erica, for he was not even sure he could trust her, and she had been his spouse for over seven years. Among the neon billboards lining the boulevard, Bruno noticed one that rather pleased him. The terse message read: .col 20,15 ╔════════════════╗ ║ BE A SCOUT ║ ║ ║ ║ BE SOCIAL ║ ╚════════════════╝ .col 0,15 Short but sweet, Bruno thought. Even a young man could appreciate its brevity, at least a young man determined to be a Scout. Or so he had once believed. .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 The car pulled to a stop at a traffic light. Bruno looked around at the other sleepy drivers, and he mused about how they were all controlled by a little machine, a box full of red and green lights. But that was life in 2033, life in a box, controlled by machines on all sides. At times Bruno even dared to think the Central Controller might be a machine, but expressing that thought would only win him instant eradication. So he repressed it instead. No, things had changed since he had been a young man, since he had been a Scout at the turn of the century, and certainly since the domes had been built some ten years after that. And the Scouts had changed, too, especially recently. He had attended a Scout conference the day before, in Belial, where Doreen lived. He had only heard what he already knew, that the Scouts were growing wild. But Bruno did not want to think of that now. He would have to report to Lansing later, and then he could think up something to say. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 7,1 Almost surprisingly, Bruno's car ended up in his assigned slot in front of the Scout headquarters, and he disembarked. "Maybe things are more reliable than I want to believe," Bruno quipped to himself. At least he knew for sure he would be with Erica that night, and that was enough for him. .loc 24,3 .pause @goback:begin @label:c2 .screen 0 .col 0,11 .cls .loc 5,1 .cen(*Chapter 2: Morning Coffee*) .loc 8,1 "More coffee, Marcene?" Erica asked. She smiled down at the other woman, seated on the gray plastic couch. "No more, thank you, Erica," the woman replied. "But it is so good. I wish I had more rationed to me. I get so little." "I always throw some away at the end of each ration period. I always have too much to use. Bruno doesn't drink much, and Lansing doesn't like coffee at all. He says it makes him too nervous. He prefers the pills." Erica never thought to offer the spare coffee to Marcene. Each woman was provided food and services equivalent to the social standing of her spouses. If Erica was paired with men of higher standing, then it was her good luck. But she was not expected or encouraged to feel pity for those lower than herself. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Being the spouse of Controllers does have its advantages, I suppose," Marcene lamented. "I wish Conrad had made Controller instead of Mid-Manager. And Delroy will never be anything but a Laborer. But that's the way it goes, I suppose." Marcene took another sip of the coffee. She smiled half-heartedly at Erica. "Yes, it does have its advantages," Erica agreed. She strolled to the small pentagonal windows on the outer wall, to the center one of seven. "Yes, it does. I always have plenty of food. And I have windows, of course. Come and look." Marcene slowly joined Erica at the windows. Though she was eager to get a glimpse of the outside, she did not want to give Erica the opportunity to feel superior to her. Marcene acted as though she saw the outside every day, though she had no windows in her apartment and the walls were solid and unbroken by patches of gray world beyond thin glass. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Erica ran her finger carelessly down the glass, leaving a thin streak. "Sometimes I'd like to go outside," she said. "What for?" Marcene frowned. "You know it's all dead out there." "Maybe that's not really so," Erica said softly. "Do we know? Bruno says it used to be lovely outdoors, before the domes. Only thirty or forty years ago, he said, people could still go outside and have fun--go to the beach, walk in the sunshine. But then things started going wrong. The ozone collapsed, the heat soared, the polar ice melted, the oceans rose, the shorelines flooded. Fossil fuels were used up, cancer ran rampant, and that alien virus AIDS flourished in the heat of the new world. But before that, the world was a beautiful place, or at least that's what Bruno says." "Bruno's dreaming is going to get him in trouble," Marcene warned. "And maybe the both of you." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Erica stared at the blackened trees outside her windows. "And besides, I'd just like to go out for a while--to look around. I wouldn't want to try to live out there. Think how uncomfortable and inconvenient that would be. No heating or cooling. No dome for protection." "It does sound distasteful," Marcene agreed. "But then, just think of the thrill. An hour's walk outdoors. Can you imagine?" Erica whispered. "But you know it's forbidden," Marcene said quietly. "Yes, but who is to know?" Erica stopped and looked at Marcene, who glanced at the floor. "Marcene," Erica said, "surely you couldn't tell on me. Not for this. It's nothing. Just wishful thinking. Just that." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Marcene said nothing. "But sometimes there seem to be too many forbidden things, don't you think?" Erica said, searching for a reply. "I don't know," Marcene said solemnly. "No." "Do you love Conrad?" Erica asked. "Or Delroy?" Marcene seemed shocked. "Love them?" "Yes. Do you?" "I don't know," Marcene replied, confused by the suddenness of the query. "No. It's not necessary. And it's forbidden," Marcene instructed. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Yes, it is, isn't it?" Erica glanced out the window once more, then turned away. Marcene stared at her curiously. "Get another look, Marcene. It may be your last. Who knows how long before the inside is just like the outside? Then where will we go?" "Are you off medication?" Marcene wondered aloud. "No," Erica cried. "I'm on medication. That's what's wrong." "That's Bruno talking," Marcene warned. "Watch out what you say, Erica." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Face it, Marcene. The way we are told to take pills, told what to think and what not to think, how to act, how to live and die -- that's what's wrong with us. And who tells us to do these things, where does the control actually come from? From one we never see, some Central Controller hidden away in a secret tower where no one can see him or recalcitrate him. And the funny thing is, we do it to ourselves. It seems to please us to be sheep. We're no better than computons!" "I don't know," Marcene said. "Can't you see that's true, Marcene? He controls our minds as well as our bodies. He does! Tells us what to eat, who to have sex with, when to bear children. And he uses our own minds to hold us captive." Erica turned back to pound on the window. "I must go," Marcene said, meekly stepping away. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "I'm sorry, Marcene. Yes." Erica showed her to the door. "You won't say anything, will you?" Erica asked. "I didn't mean it." "There are regulations, Erica," Marcene replied, looking away. "You know the Ampoule better than I do." "But don't we have a friendship, Marcene, after so many months?" "Yes, I suppose," Marcene replied. "But I also have my duty." "Would you like some coffee then, Marcene?" Erica asked as her neighbor walked away. "You can have my spare!" Marcene turned the corner. Erica sighed, then closed and locked the door. .loc 24,3 .pause @goback:begin @label:c3 .screen 0 .col 0,14 .cls .loc 5,1 .cen(*Chapter 3: Summit*) .loc 8,1 Lansing and Jocko were waiting for Bruno when he arrived at Scout headquarters. Lansing was a young man, only in his twenties, though already Bruno's superior. His eagerness and sense of duty had helped Lansing to progress quickly. Jocko was just an old man, a relic from the earlier days of Scouting, when people still went outside. Now Jocko was already 70 years old, ready for mandatory extermination in only five years. "Long live the Central Controller," Lansing said as Bruno entered the conference room. Bruno only nodded and glanced at Jocko. A smirk danced across Jocko's lips. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "So how was Doreen?" Lansing asked. Bruno could feel his anger rising, but he kept quiet. Somehow Lansing was always able to irritate him. The greatest thorn in his side was the fact that Lansing shared Erica's affection. By mentioning Doreen, Lansing was only emphasizing that fact. And Bruno hated the thought of it. "She's fine," Bruno replied, betraying no hint of anger. Still, Lansing's eyes twinkled as he said, "Well, that's good to hear. And the Scout conference, how did that go?" Lansing queried. "Things don't look too promising," Bruno began. "There were Scoutmasters from all the city-domes there. The Scoutmaster from Belial says his troops have been roughing up all the Degenerates they retrieve." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Is that the bad news?" Lansing asked with a tone of bored disbelief. "The other masters report the same thing--severe outbreaks of violence among the Scouts. And they can't explain why. They didn't use violence before the Change." "And of course, the Scoutmasters are all old men," Lansing rebutted. "Don't they realize the Scouts know nothing of the Change? I was only a baby myself when it occurred. These Scouts know nothing else." "That's no excuse," Jocko said. "They didn't hunt Degenerates before the Change, that's clear. They could go outside before the change, get outside the damn dome then--and not only in sealed cars." "Don't get emotional, Jocko," Lansing said, mocking his elder. "You'll have a stroke." .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "All I'm saying is, the Scouts didn't beat up people back then," Jocko went on, ignoring Lansing's arrogance. "Remember those trips to the lake we used to make, Bruno? When we could still breathe the air outside and swim in the water. You'd be a fool to try that now, or insane--it's all dead outside now." A gleam came into Jocko's eyes as he was swept away by memory. Lansing ignored him, shuffling a stack of papers. "Then the Scouts would run up and down the shore, skipping rocks over the clear blue water, playing among themselves," Jocko recalled. "Now they hunt Degenerates. They've gotten worse than Hitler's Youth Corps!" "Who?" Lansing asked, looking up from his paperwork. "Hitler," Jocko stressed. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Lansing only stared at him. "Never mind," Jocko said, frowning at Bruno. Bruno said nothing, turning away to stare at the gray wall. "Scouts are still useful members of society," Lansing said. "You say," Jocko countered. "That's right," Lansing retorted, raising his voice. "I say. And my say is the one that counts. Keep that in mind, old man." Jocko's wrinkled face tightened into a fiery sheet of rage. His mouth opened as though he meant to curse Lansing. But the younger man held him in his clear blue gaze, and Jocko turned away with a snort. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Jocko does have a point," Bruno said to the wall. "What?" Lansing said. Bruno turned to face him. "Trapped in the dome, they might do anything for excitement, and they have no limit." Bruno knew that Jocko was right, that the Scouts were getting out of control, that they had more power than they should--even if they were destined to be Controllers. "Yes, yes," Lansing said indifferently. "So what can we do, Lansing?" Jocko charged. "You're the young hotshot with all the bright ideas." "We'll wait and see," Lansing replied, his voice steady and low. "No need for emergency action yet. After all, they're only children." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Teenaged children," Bruno added. "And deadly ones, at that," Jocko said. "And certainly stronger than my 70 years of bones." "Mine, too," Bruno agreed. "Well, keep an eye on them," Lansing said. "After all, that's your job. You seem to forget that you're Controllers." "But we're not trained to control teenaged barbarians," Jocko said with a sneer. "Then go with them on their searches," Lansing ordered. "Make sure they don't do anything violent." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "You know we can't do that, Lansing," Bruno argued. "People are afraid to lodge complaints against kids, especially their own. But they wouldn't feel so guilty about eradicating us. They see us as the blame anyway. It'd be nothing for thirteen people to see us with the Scouts and recalcitrate us--and just for doing our job!" "It seems, then, that you have a sticky problem," Lansing said, grinning. "And you begin tonight. There's a campout in Central Park, and both of you are going." "But tonight's my night with Erica!" Bruno cried. "Was your night," Lansing corrected. "You'll have your chances later, perhaps." "You did this," Bruno charged, drawing his face close to Lansing's. The younger man only grinned at him. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "And if I did?" Lansing asked. "Sometimes I think the whole system is unfair," Bruno said angrily, turning away from Lansing. "You'd be best advised," Lansing said, "to keep such thoughts to yourself." "Yes, sir," Bruno replied quietly. "Well, now, you men get busy. Think of something for your Scouts to do," Lansing instructed. "You are the Scoutmasters." The two older men saluted Lansing and turned to leave. "And Bruno," Lansing said, "if you see Erica today, tell her I might drop by tonight . . . since you won't be there." .loc 24,3 .pause @goback:begin @label:c4 .screen 0 .col 0,10 .cls .loc 4,1 .cen(*Chapter 4: Campout*) .loc 7,1 The campfire glowed rather than crackled, its ghostly green luminescence casting the shadows of the Scouts on the steel trees of Central Park. Bruno sat nervously with his group, the Locust Troop, as one of the members recounted the adventures of tracking down a Degenerate. "He tried to hide in a closet," the Scout explained, "but we found him easily. His woman tried to stop us, but well, you know what happened to her. And I hear we'll have some more of that fun tonight." The other Scouts clapped and hooted. The green glow caught the demonic features of their faces beneath their golden helmets. On the helmets, in jet black, were the insignia of Central Control and the symbolic wings of the troop. The twenty boys all had long, slick hair, and they wore black iron breastplates over their gray uniforms. .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Bruno looked over at a nearby glow, knowing it was Jocko's group, the Beasties. They were much worse than his own troop. The Beasties had taken to wearing old rags instead of uniforms, and they considered bathing an unnecessary chore. Bruno wished he were somewhere else, at Erica's apartment, in Erica's arms. Bruno had gone by Erica's apartment earlier that day. She had been anxious, worried about something, and she told him of her conversation with Marcene. Bruno tried to ease her mind, to tell her not to worry, but his assurances did not even quell his own concerns. He knew Marcene, and he knew that she was serious about her duty. Worse, she was an envious woman, bitter that she was not spouse to a Controller. Marcene might try anything to harm Erica. But Bruno had told her not to worry, though he knew she would, even as he did now. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "So we dragged him out of the closet. He resisted, of course," the Scout droned on, the other Scouts rapt on his every word. "So we killed him. Heck, they would have eradicated him anyway." Bruno barely heard the words. The harshness of Lansing's directives still stung his ears. Bruno did not really know why the Scouts who once camped and hunted outside now stalked Degenerates like prey inside. If he could only blame the whole thing on the Change, everything would be solved, at least in his own mind. Indeed, the Change was partially responsible, as one's environment is always partially responsible for one's actions. But constancy of action is to be expected when the environment is constant, or so the Ampoule stated. Bruno understood that the Degenerates, those freaks of society who broke the regulations of the Ampoule, had to be controlled to avoid faction. True, the Scouts were only doing their duty as it now stood, seeking out Degenerates and turning them over to Central Control. But the Scouts had become much more violent of late, and they relished their devious role all the more. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 The fact that the Scouts and Central Control itself misused human trust angered Bruno the most of all. He could accept, too, that Scouts in the other city-domes had used violence, because they were distant and not really of his concern. But now the violence had touched home. Though Bruno considered it, he could not believe that he and Jocko had been responsible for the changes in the Scouts, especially this latest bunch. He and Jocko only had supervision of each group of Scouts for seven months before they passed on to another phase of Central Control. Bruno had noticed the increasing roughness of the Scouts the last few years, but this latest group was the worst. "Did you ever kill a Degenerate, Master Bruno?" a Scout asked. "What?" Bruno said, startled. "What's the matter? You dreaming of the good old days again," another Scout said, mockery in his tone. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "No," Bruno gasped. "You ever kill a Degenerate?" the Scout repeated. "No," Bruno said firmly, again in control of himself. "Why not?" "We didn't do those things," Bruno answered. "Why? Were you a coward?" "We just didn't do that," Bruno said, feeling the need to defend himself. "What did you do--pull the legs off frogs?" a Scout mocked. "What makes you think you have to destroy things?" Bruno asked, his voice quaking. .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Because it's a rotten world," several Scouts shouted. "And you think killing and maiming will improve things?" Bruno asked. "Who are you to judge?" a Scout demanded. "I'm not judging," Bruno said. "I'm only asking." The Scouts growled as they sought an answer. Bruno felt their eyes upon him, and he knew he could not control them if the need arose. "Scouts," Bruno continued, his voice trembling, "I want to point out that your duty is simply to seek out Degenerates who will be handled by Central Control. Lately, you have been violating your duty . . . and you will be reported." "Boo!" the Scouts raged. .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Duty is for underlings," one cried. "We're Controllers!" "You think you are," Bruno argued. "Who says we're not?" the Scout roared. He was Milo, the junior leader of the troop, and Bruno had always disliked him. "Who's complaining? We'll find them . . . and kill them!" "Scouts!" Bruno yelled, and the din died down. But the Scouts' bodies twitched with the desire of the hunt, leaning toward him in the green glow of the fire, their eyes bulging. "While I was gone last night, you did an awful thing," Bruno said, his voice low and firm. "I have heard news that disgusts me. It does not include all of you, but you are all responsible, even if you were not actually present. If you do not act to stop the violence, then you are just as guilty as those who commit it. A man has been castrated by members of Locust Troop, and I want an explanation." .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "He was just a Degenerate," Milo said, smirking. "He was a man," Bruno contended. "Not anymore!" Milo cried, and the other Scouts laughed. "Even now, he is more of a man than you will ever be," Bruno said, staring at Milo. "Woo!" the Scouts hooted, and Milo jumped to his feet as if to challenge Bruno to a fight. Bruno slowly stood, though he made no move to hit the boy. He only continued to stare, his face hard and gray. Soon Milo turned away. "Central Control would have done it anyway when he was reprogrammed," Milo argued, and the other Scouts nodded in agreement. "He was a sex offender. We just did part of the work for Central Control." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Yeah!" the other Scouts hooted. "It will not happen again," Bruno said calmly. "What odds?" Milo asked, laughing. "If you act like a beast and violate your duty, people will think of you as a beast and will in turn vote to recalcitrate you. You are fortunate that you're still young. People are more reluctant to take part in eradicating a young person. But it won't last for long, be assured. Why can't you be like the Scouts of old, someone who did good?" Bruno pleaded. "Maybe we have nothing to look back on," Milo said, his words sharp and cold. "We can't daydream of going outside to the lake. We were born in test tubes. We live in a bubble. Our whole lives have been spent under glass--like in a snake zoo!" .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "You have only yourselves to blame," Bruno argued. "And because of the unnecessary violence yesterday, there will be no assignment for the troop today." "What?" some of the Scouts cried. "No assignment. Is that clear?" Bruno stressed. "You're wrong there," Milo sneered. "We have our orders." "But I issued no orders," Bruno protested. "Ah, but Lansing did," Milo snorted. "And he said you would enjoy them." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "What?" Bruno said dumbly. "Troops, to your feet!" Milo cried. The Scouts scrambled to their feet, their golden helmets muted in the green glow. They crowded around Milo, saluting him. "Into the night!" Milo shouted. "To our duty! Ha, ha, ha!" The Scouts dashed into the night, swallowed soon by the darkness. Bruno stood in disbelief, knowing he should follow them, afraid to. At last he coaxed his leaden feet to action, and he hurried in the direction of the frenzied cries of his troop. .loc 24,3 .pause @goback:begin @label:c5 .screen 0 .col 12,0 .cls .loc 5,1 .cen(*Chapter 5: The Terror*) .loc 8,1 The Scouts were too fast for Bruno, and it took all his strength to keep within sight of their shadowy figures or in range of their frantic hoots. On and on they ran through the gray streets of the city-dome. With each step Bruno wondered where they were headed and why Lansing had overstepped his own control and issued orders for the Scouts. Had Bruno suddenly been placed on the Suspect list? Or was Lansing just up to his tricks again, trying to get Bruno recalcitrated? .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Bruno followed a short distance behind the troop, far enough back so as not to seem associated with the Locusts in golden helmets swarming down the street, their low growling disturbing. But Bruno could see the people in gray porticos with recalcitrators in hand, their fingers upon the orange button, the slight push, their sudden guilt, and then justification and relief. The Scouts continued assuredly on their way, Bruno dropping farther behind each time he saw a figure in a doorway with recalcitor in hand. He tried to keep a rough estimate--six, seven. Bruno ran on, his lungs heaving and his heart pounding, his chest aching miserably with each step. He could still see the swarm of Scouts ahead, but now he decided to stay as far behind as possible. Bruno had not noticed at first, but now the route seemed familiar to him. Suddenly he realized that the Scouts were heading toward Erica's apartment complex in the Wall, toward someone in her section. He hurried to catch up and managed a glimpse of the Scouts as they entered the lobby of the complex. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 By the time Bruno reached the entrance, the Locusts had already devastated the lobby and disappeared into the confines of the Wall. He could hear their growling buzz, upstairs. Looking up the staircase, Bruno saw that they had reached the third floor, Erica's floor. He dashed to the elevator, wishing it would work but knowing that it didn't; it never did. He turned to the stairs and began his ascent, his head throbbing from the exertion. At the third-floor landing, he slipped. Before him he saw the Scouts like a wave of demon locusts sweeping through the hallway. And then they stopped, buzzing . . . outside Erica's door. Bruno jumped up and ran again, his whole body aching. Faces peeked out from barely opened doors, beady eyes that weakly condemned him. In one of the doors, he noticed Marcene's face, and as he passed, she slammed it quickly. At Erica's door, he pushed his way through the Scouts--the door was ajar--and into the apartment. .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 In the room he fell back against the wall, pinned there by his own Scouts. Milo and some of the other older Scouts had Erica on the floor, her clothes torn, her face a mask of terror. Milo looked at her hungrily, rubbing his coarse gray hand along the curves of her frantic white body. She writhed to escape, but the Scouts held her down more tightly. And above it all, looking down with a smile of benign satisfaction, was Lansing. "You bastard!" Bruno cried. "Calm down, Bruno," Lansing replied calmly. "There's no need for you to get agitated." On the floor, Erica writhed to escape, but her actions were fruitless. Her moans only seemed to excite the Scouts more. "How could you?" Bruno screamed. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "How could I?" Lansing wondered aloud. "I have done nothing. She is the one that has violated the Ampoule. Milo." Milo pulled Erica's head up by the hair and slapped her sharply across the face. The other Scouts cheered. "She should not violate her duty," Lansing continued. "See what she has brought upon herself?" Again Milo slapped Erica, her muffled cries dull in Bruno's ears. Milo crouched over her, and two other Scouts grabbed Erica's knees. "You know what will happen when we turn you over to Central Control, don't you?" Milo asked, running his hand along the smooth flesh of her thigh. "Or hasn't Master Bruno told you about that? You'll be reprogrammed--reeducated, they call it--to work out all the bugs." "For God's sake," Bruno pleaded. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Whose?" Lansing answered with a smirk. "But those people at Reprogramming are too soft," Milo sneered, his body now poised above Erica's. They give you no incentive to accept your new education. And it's painless, too. Just ask Bruno." Erica stared at Bruno with terrified eyes. Bruno was powerless to help, and he looked away. "So," Milo said, "we have to fill this hole. We have to give you something to remember." Milo snickered as the two Scouts slowly spread Erica's knees. The other Scouts hooted as she struggled to resist. Bruno turned away, still restrained. Could this be happening? Was it real, or just some drug-dream? He heard the whimpers of Erica as testimony, but could he believe his ears? After so many years of disbelieving everything, was he now afraid to believe himself? Had he lied to Erica too, led her to this? He turned his head slightly, enough to see Milo, still in his golden helmet, ready to assault her. Bruno knew he had to believe it. .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Then suddenly, like a divine reprieve, Lansing's voice rang out, loud and clear, "That's enough." The Scouts groaned loudly, bent on their lustful violence. Milo protested more than the others, jumping up to scream, "But the fun hasn't even started! We didn't get to do anything!" "That's enough," Lansing repeated firmly, "for now." The Scouts grumbled, but they obeyed. Their drone filled the room, cloaking even the frantic whimpers of Erica as she quaked on the floor. "Take her to Central Control," Lansing instructed. "And no funny stuff. Remember your duty." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 6,1 The Scouts glared at Lansing with hatred and spite, but he simply grinned at them. "And remember that I am not Bruno. I have much better ways to deal with you than he has mustered. Remember that." The Scouts continued to grumble as Milo grabbed Erica by the hair and dragged her to her feet. He pushed her to two other Scouts, and the swarm streamed from the room. Erica looked back at Bruno in terror, seeking with her eyes the help that Bruno could not provide. And then she was gone. .loc 24,3 .pause @goback:begin @label:c6 .screen 0 .col 15,1 .cls .loc 5,1 .cen(*Chapter 6: Enough is Enough*) .loc 8,1 Bruno stood weakly, still pinned to the wall, though no one held him. Lansing came strolling across the gray carpet, that arrogant smirk still gracing his lips. Bruno wanted to look away, to deny Lansing's existence, but the younger one's eyes held Bruno as if in a trance. "Bruno, Bruno, Bruno," Lansing said quietly. "What will we do with you?" "Leave me alone," Bruno offered. "Sorry, but that's not the nature of things in this world." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "It's not nature at all," Bruno argued weakly. "It's a great perversion, and you're as responsible as that damnable Central Controller." "My, my," Lansing said, mocking his elder. "Don't you know where such sharp talk will get you, Bruno? Your nostalgia sickens everyone around you; still, you have a remarkably short memory." "I don't need your advice," Bruno charged. "Oh, to the contrary," Lansing answered, taking Bruno by the arm, as if to assist him in walking. "I would say you need it very much." "What could a young bastard like you know?" .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "I know my place," Lansing replied. "Something that you seem to have forgotten." "I have no place," Bruno countered. "Not after this." "Come now, Bruno," Lansing said, leading him toward the glass panels. "There's a place in our world for everyone, even you. Even for Erica, though it will be a different one than she knew with you." "Bastard!" Bruno snarled, trying to tear his arm from Lansing's grip. But the younger was strong beyond his years, and Bruno was forced to relent to his control. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Still, his mind raged on. If this was to be his reward for years of service to Central Control, if these were to be the fruits of his life of tolerant behavior and no active dissent, then he wanted no further part of it. There were ways to deal with the situation. He could turn himself in for reprogramming, too, and perhaps be paired with Erica again in a life of blissful complacency. But he did not really care for such mindlessness, though he feared such a thing would probably happen to him anyway. Or he could break out the windows there in the apartment. He could break the seven seals and let the world outside in upon this savage swarm. He might not be able to contaminate the whole city-dome, he knew, but one foul part was better than nothing. Besides, he knew that complete contamination, complete destruction of the city-dome was only a matter of time. And he knew that such a destruction would come from the inside, not the outside. The joyful irony of that thought brought a smile to his lips and a reproach from Lansing. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Do you find something humorous?" Lansing asked. "You are in a perilous situation, my friend." "You as much as me," Bruno replied sardonically. "Just look, Bruno," Lansing instructed. They had reached the glass panels, and with a sweep of his hand Lansing presented the outside world to Bruno. "Just look what people of your time have left to people like me. Do you think it's a pretty sight?" "No," Bruno said quietly. "Is any of this gray wasteland my fault?" Lansing asked. "Or of my Scouts?" Again Bruno was forced to answer in the negative. "And yet you seem to blame us for the problems we face today," Lansing said. "Isn't that a bit hypocritical?" .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Bruno was momentarily flustered. Then he blurted out, "But this society has no moral values. Expediency and convenience are the watchwords. We just don't care anymore. Life has no value." "And it was different in your days?" Lansing wondered. "Yes," Bruno answered meekly. "So that's why the giant industries then polluted the skies and the water, because they valued life?" "I meant the people," Bruno protested. "Oh, the ones on drugs, the ones who aborted their children, the ones who drove stinking cars here and there for pleasure?" Lansing asked. "It wasn't that way," Bruno said. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "They do say memory paints a false picture," Lansing answered. "I think your nostalgia has rotted your mind, Bruno." "At least I'm no killer," Bruno cried. "Not directly, no," responded Lansing. "Nor am I. So why can't we be friends, Bruno? I think you need one now very badly." "Never," Bruno said. "Hmm," Lansing said, clearing his throat. He stared out over the gray outside once more. "Funny how they only give windows to the spouses of Controllers," Lansing said. "Even those who live in buildings inside the dome and not here in the Wall. Even then only Controllers get windows. But here in the Wall, with this sordid view of the outside, why only Controllers? Do you have any idea, Bruno?" .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "No." "You'd think they'd only let Laborers have the windows. A Laborer would be less tempted to break the windows just to touch the outside. They have so little to live for, so little in life to yearn for. I rather think they are pleased with this existence, don't you, Bruno?" "I don't know." "Do you ever get the desire to break the windows, Bruno--to break the seal between the outside and the inside?" Lansing asked. "I do." Bruno looked at the younger man in shock. "Break them just to taste the outside, even if it's deadly," Lansing continued. "Why the look of shock, Bruno? Can't I imagine? You know what the outside was like. I have no such memories. Don't you think the urge would be even stronger in me?" .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "I hadn't thought of that." "Yes, I know. But I have," Lansing said. "Inside would be the same as outside in only a short while--all dead and gray. And they don't have any medication to change that. So I can't let it happen. I have my duty." "You'll change your thinking," Bruno suggested. "Will I?" Lansing asked, his smirk again curling his lips. "You're a fool, Bruno." "And you're something worse," Bruno countered. "You think you have control, but you'll be in my shoes one day. And those Scouts of yours will be in your position. Then how will you feel?" .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 6,1 "I suppose I'll worry about that when the time comes," Lansing replied. "Worry is right," Bruno said, turning from Lansing, walking away and out the door. "Long live the Central Controller," Lansing said, though his voice was not so sure this time. .loc 24,3 .pause @goback:begin @label:c7 .screen 0 .col 15,0 .cls .loc 5,1 .cen(*Chapter 7: To the Godhead*) .loc 8,1 The halls of the complex were empty as Bruno stumbled toward the stairs. He had no idea where he was going or why, but he continued in his headlong stagger. In the doorways were the beady eyes peeking out at him like frightened rats, and as he passed, Bruno could hear the soft clicks of the recalcitrators. So be it, he thought. To be eradicated would be a pleasure. Better to burn brightly and disappear than to serve in such a hell. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 When he reached the lobby, it was empty except for a computon buzzing quietly at the front desk. He half expected to see Erica waiting there for him, a smile upon her lips announcing the joke that had been played on him. But she was not there, of course, and the joke was more monstrous than he ever could have imagined or had expressed in the weak curve of a pair of lips. The joke was this life itself, and the irrational urge to continue it. Why should he? Indeed, why? All that he had cared for was gone, would never be again after her reprogramming, so what was left? With that despondent frame of mind, Bruno stumbled out into the gray street. The dark buildings rose all around him, squat and unremarkable. And in the center of them all, rising inexplicably to the roof of the dome, was the spire housing the Central Controller. Just who was he, Bruno wondered. He assumed the Central Controller was a he. He could not in good faith attribute such vile and contemptible rule to a woman. In all his years of service, Bruno had never seen the Central Controller, or a picture of him. Did he even exist? .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 A sudden spark filled Bruno's mind, and for once in his recent life he had a goal, one that he considered worthwhile. He would find out if the Central Controller did in fact exist, and if he did, Bruno would do all in his power to end that existence. It seemed a simple plan, one worthy of completion, one more worthy of immediate action, and with that resolve, Bruno hurried toward the central spire to fulfill his ambition. Behind him, Lansing exited the complex to watch the older man dashing down the street. With a knowing smile, Lansing took out his communicator and spoke quietly into it. At night most people stayed indoors, for to be seen out in the streets then was in itself cause for suspicion. So Bruno had easy passage to the central spire, and soon he found himself at the base of it, staring up to the ceiling of the dome, not so much in awe as in anger. His rage scaled the walls of the tower easily, and he hoped his courage could rise to that height as well. The tower was not protected, and the doors were open. Without trouble, Bruno found himself on the ground floor of the spire, ready to ascend to his destiny. .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 There was no elevator that he could find, so Bruno was forced to climb the many flights of stairs. Around and around he went on the spiral staircase, dizzied by the height and the coil of steps that stretched upward beyond his imagination. He would climb them, he swore, for now he had a newfound duty, to destroy that which had destroyed life for him. Even if Lansing was correct and he had helped to kill the outside, the Central Controller had stripped dignity itself from life, and without dignity and faith life had little meaning. Now Bruno had neither, and to end his life would be no great sacrifice. But to end the Central Controller might be to write history. As he climbed, Bruno could hear buzzing and clanking within the walls of the tower. A whirring noise seemed to fill his head. The higher he climbed the brighter the lights in the tower became, and he knew he was nearing the top when the silver glow of the lights nearly blinded him. At last he would meet the Central Controller. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 Finally he reached the top of the stairs, and he stood meekly at a great black door. He hesitated to open it, suddenly fearing what lay beyond, his resolve temporarily eroded. But remembering his new duty, and the cries of Erica, he gave the door a mighty push, and he was surprised to see it open so easily at his touch. It swung gently upon its hinges to reveal a great white room. Bruno entered the room in awe, shading his eyes against a silver glow that emanated from the center of it. "Come in, Bruno," a metallic voice announced. "I have been expecting you." "Who is it?" Bruno muttered, whirling to find the source of the voice. "It is I," the voice chimed, "the Central Controller." .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 And Bruno realized in dismay that the voice came from the silver light. "You're the Central Controller?" "Indeed." "But you're a machine," Bruno stammered. "That is correct." "A machine," Bruno repeated, dropping to his knees. Above him the glass panels of the dome revealed the starless dark night. "What did you expect, a flawed human such as yourself?" the voice demanded. "Could a weak human have created such a world?" "No, I suppose not," Bruno answered weakly. He searched frantically for a power source for the machine, but he could locate none. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "But you are wrong, Bruno. In truth, my power comes from you," the voice said, as if reading his mind. "From you and all those other humans too weak to take control of their own lives. They wreak their havoc and destroy their world and their lives, and then they blame it on someone else. Well, I am that someone else." "Then you must be destroyed," Bruno said firmly. "That is logical," the voice replied. "But to destroy me is to destroy yourself. It is a cruel irony, Bruno, but it is the cruel irony modern people have created for themselves." "Then I'll have no more of it," Bruno cried. He searched the room for some object to use to crack the panel, to flood this foul world with the sweet vapors of death lingering just beyond the glass. "Ah, but there is little you can do," the voice responded. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Oh, yeah?" Bruno could find no suitable object, so he grabbed his recalcitrator from his pocket and tossed it toward the panels. It bounced off and skittered across the floor. "See what I mean?" the voice mocked. "Even that toy, that recalcitrator. You use it to direct your own shortcomings toward others. You criticize others, yet you hold yourself blameless." "It's right, Bruno," another voice added. Bruno turned in surprise to see Lansing and a crowd of growling Scouts at the black door. "Besides, you shouldn't make trouble for the rest of us," Lansing said with his smirk. "People don't appreciate that." "To hell with the people," Bruno cried. .loc 24,3 .pause .cls .loc 4,1 "Ah, but you know it yourself, Bruno," Lansing said. "They're already in hell." "I'll destroy myself," Bruno said. "Fine," Lansing said, chuckling. "That will save the cost of reprogramming you. And then I'll have Erica all to myself--after her reeducation, of course." "I'll find a way to destroy you," Bruno roared. "All of this, too." "Face it, Bruno," Lansing said, now leading the Scouts toward him. "You've lost." "They'll be someone else, then," Bruno argued. "Someone who can defeat an SOB like you." "I hardly think so," Lansing said, smirking. "Get him, Scouts." .loc 25,3 .pause .cls .loc 5,1 As they rushed toward him, Bruno scrambled across the floor and grabbed the recalcitrator. Turning it upon himself, he clicked it, once, twice, three times, and then he felt the warm glow begin to envelop him. The Scouts stood back as Bruno turned into a liquid pool of sparkles, and then he was gone in a flash. Lansing strolled over to where Bruno had sparkled, the Scouts parting to make way for his progress. He casually picked up the recalcitrator, all that was left of Bruno and his existence. "Poor, dumb fool," Lansing said, pocketing the device. "If you can't play by the rules, don't play the game." He grinned and strolled toward the great black door. "Long live the Central Controller!" he shouted as the Scouts swarmed into the dark staircase to plague the gray city below. .loc 24,3 .pause @goback:begin @label:cat @stop menu