Short story, "Parts."

Parts
By Robin Rues


A4216 looked around. No one seemed to be looking. Father was a few seats over, talking to F3764 about last week’s teevee shows. Old Effie loved “Celebrity Dogpile” which came on the teevee every Day9 after lastmeal. Everybody loved the teevee because all the people looked so strange.

A4216 took a moment longer just to make sure nobody was observing him, and then palmed the pink pill. Leaning over casually, he tucked it in his sock. He wasn’t trying to be disobedient, he just hated the aftertaste of the pink ones. They said all the pills were essential to health, but there were so many, and A4216 figured it would be ok if he skipped a few pinks.

He got up from the table where several others were drinking water, swallowing pills, and talking. Looking around, he took a moment to decide what to do with the rest of the evening. There was still over an hour until darktime.

Directly in front of him was the hallway that lead to the teevee room, where he knew he would find a dozen or so friends watching “Malibu Fever.” It was a popular show that came on every Day3 after lastmeal. Everyone loved it because the whole show was set in a fantastic alien landscape where everything was crazy. The only thing weirder than the piles and piles of sand was the ridiculously huge pool of water beyond. There was water for as far as the eye could see. A few weeks ago, he and his best friend, B1475, had been talking about how stupid it was to haul all that sand and spread it around, then pump all that water, just so those weird looking people could run around and swim. But it was a good show, because someone was always drowning, or trying to steal something. Funniest of all, there were really weird looking people with large pillowy lumps on their chests, and the other weirdos were always trying to touch and kiss them. Whenever that happened, the whole room would erupt with sounds of disgust and laughter.

He had once asked his dad why the people on the show were so mean to each other, why they looked so weird, and why there was always so much conflict.

His dad had said, “They’re not Chosen, son. They don’t got the religion. See how every one of them has all their body parts? If you can’t sacrifice for God, then what’s the point of life?” Dad was right of course. Sure, those people had all their body parts, but they lived lives of conflict and violence and drama. Fun to watch... but you wouldn’t want to live like that.

It was a good show, but he didn’t really feel like watching right now for some reason.

To the right, through the sliding glass doors, was the pool and exercise area, where he knew he would find more friends running, playing, lounging, splashing and so forth.

He sighed. Nothing seemed interesting today. Turning left, he absently wandered into the chapel. The center aisle stretched all the way to the alter, with pews lining both sides. A statue of the Great One, A1, was standing behind the alter, smiling benevolently. A4216 moved to a middle pew and sat down. He usually got a lot of satisfaction coming to the temple. He had always been proud that he shared the same first name as the Great One. But today was somehow different.

As he bowed his head in prayer, he tried to find the peace of A1 in his heart. But he could not. Frowning, he looked up and rubbed his chin. What was wrong? For a moment, he thought about the fact that he had not eaten a pink pill in three days. But what would food have to do with it? No, he was just feeling a little odd.

He stood up and walked to the alter, where the Book of Sacrifice was lying open. The great leather-bound tome was the most sacred artifact of The Chosen Ones. A1 had brought the book down from Heaven, and in it were written the rules they all lived by, as well as the names of the Martyrs of God. Every night, the book would sink into a compartment inside the alter, and every morning it would rise again, with new names inscribed upon its sacred pages. Sometimes there were no names. Sometimes several. The High Priest would read the book afresh every morning, and call the new names at firstmeal. There would be a great celebration for the lucky Few, and they would receive the sacred meal of the Chosen. The meal was special and holy, and only those who were due to sacrifice for God could sample its forbidden delight. A4216’s father had told him once a little about the sacred meal. It was not like pills at all. The food had to be chewed first, and then swallowed. Although it took some getting used to, it was really quite amazing. Father had said it was the most remarkable experience of his life.

It was all part of a moving and powerful ceremony. At firstmeal time, the Chosen Few were taken to the chapel, where their meal would be waiting for them. After eating the delightful sacred food, their names would be called to everyone, and they would then pass through the door behind the statue of A1. His father had told him that he thought there was a magical serpent guarding God’s Home, because he heard hissing after he’d gone through the door, and then he remembered nothing more. When he returned the next day through the same door, his right arm had been cleanly removed at the shoulder, with only a fully healed scar to testify that there had ever been an arm there at all. For the next month, father had received special treatment in the community, as one of the Martyrs of God. Even though most people had sacrificed at least once, the first month was considered a sacred time of reflection and meditation, and those Martyrs were treated with respect and honor.

A4216 took a moment to think about how he would feel when his name was called. In two weeks, he would be old enough to be a Martyr. For the first time in his life, the thought sent a chill up his spine. He sat down in the front row to gather his thoughts. What was he feeling? This was a completely new sensation. His breath was short, and his heart was beating fast, and he felt all trembly and weak. What the hell?

After a moment of sitting and breathing deep, the feeling started to pass. But he found that every time he thought of losing a body part to Martyrdom, the strange feeling returned.

He bowed his head and prayed, “Oh Great One, please steady my heart. Help me to know the truth and give me strength to face what I must do.”

A4216 gasped and sat up quick, his eyes wide open. Something had happened. For the first time in his life, he actually felt like his prayer had been heard on a deeper level. He had seen an image in his mind’s eye. Just for a flash, he had seen a gentle faced man with a light beard. It was gone so fast he could not even be sure he had seen it, but he could swear the man was wearing something on his head, some strange band of sharp and dangerous looking spikes. What was going on? Was he going crazy? Prayers were for saying, not for seeing. And worst of all, the man he had seen was not A1! This was terrible... sacrilegious.

He sat alone in the Chapel, trembling and holding his head. Soon the darktime bell sounded, and he stood up mechanically and left. He walked like a zombie to the sleeping quarters. Several friends called out to him, but he only nodded absently. He found his bunk and climbed up to the fourth level.

Even after the lights had gone out, he stayed awake, thinking. After a long while, he fell into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, he felt a little better, and the strange feeling of yesterday had receded. It was still there, in the back of his mind, but he found he could ignore it. He resolved to have a completely normal day today. He sat up and looked around, reassured by the routine sight of everyone climbing down from their beds. Just like every other morning. He too climbed down and joined the line to firstmeal. He found B1475 and sat with him. As they sat and waited for their pill cups, they talked. B’ was going on and on about yesterday’s episode of “Malibu Fever.” He was talking about the pillow-chest people on the show again. B’ couldn’t get over how weird
they were. Not only did they have the strange growths on their chests, but when they wore the skimpy outfits, you could see that they had almost nothing between their legs. “They must have really small peepees.” said B1475 with a stupid grin.

A4216 looked at his friend. The alien feeling was back. Why did his friend seem so slow and dense? And why was he slurring his words? In fact, as he looked around and listened to conversations around him, he could tell that everyone was slurring their words a little. Why had he never noticed before? Insanity!

He interrupted B’ in the middle of a description, “Do you feel ok, buddy?”

His friend looked at him with a slack smile. “Sure. Um, why?”

“No reason, just asking.”

“Ask not, want not,” said B1475, quoting a popular phrase from The Book of Sacrifice.

Soon the pill cups were passed out and everyone started popping and chasing with water. A4216 gulped down one, two, three pills, and suddenly he was looking down at the pink capsule in his palm. Should he? Something was strange with him lately, and it seemed possible that it had to do with not taking this pill. Could it be he was suffering from some strange disease that the pill was designed to repel? Or was something else going on? His curiosity won out, and he palmed the pill once again, faking a popping motion. Soon the new Martyrs were announced, only two today. They’d already had their meal and were now being led away to be prepared.

After firstmeal, he walked with B’ into the teevee room. Each morning cartoons were shown, and there was already a large group of people in there, laughing and shouting at the giant screen. Recent amputees were seated closest and were surrounded by loving friends. On the teevee, a big stupid looking dog was hopping on one foot, while the other burned. Several matches were stuck between his toes, and a sneaky looking cat was smiling mischievously.

B1475 started laughing almost immediately, and didn’t stop for the next hour. As much as he tried, A4216 could not enjoy what he was seeing. It all seemed so trivial and stupid. He knew the same cartoons had seemed hilarious to him just a few days ago, but he couldn’t remember why. Things were just getting weirder and weirder.

After teevee time, the group filed into the chapel to witness the Martyrdom of the new Chosen. A4216 happened to be in front today, as he had been among the first out of the teevee room.

The High Priest read from The Book, and A4216 was startled to hear that even the Priest was slurring his words slightly. After a drawn out and boring ceremony, the two Martyrs were led to the door behind the statue. From his seat, he could clearly see the metal door. He sat forward in his seat.

The metal door slid quietly to the side and the Chosen walked placidly into the room. A4216 could see that there was another door on the far side of the room, shut. Interesting. He just glimpsed little holes around the perimeter of the room before the door once again slid shut, hiding the room. He thought he could detect a strange odor, but it was gone almost before he could register it.

After the chosen had been accepted into martyrdom, everyone was dismissed and directed out of the chapel. Dad and Old Effie were talking in low, respectful tones about the beauty of the ceremony.

As the day continued, A4216 tried all of the things that had brought him joy or entertainment in the past, but he found it all hollow and boring. Even splashing around in the pool became a boor after a while. Everyone was shouting “Marco” and “Polo” but no one knew why. Nor did they care - they were having great fun shouting and yelling. But not A4216.

He was to get the biggest shock of all after lastmeal. He had once again palmed his pink pill (why, oh why?) and went with his father to the teevee room. The big screen was alive with a new show, “Reality Chocolate Wrestling.” So far it seemed to be a big hit with everyone. But then again they were all big hits, weren’t they?

There. That’s just the kind of alien thought I never used to think. What the heck?

But soon his attention was stolen away by yet another surprise. They were bringing out two new contestants, who would soon be doused in chocolate syrup and encouraged to pretend wrestle in a large plastic lined ring. What captured A4216’s attention were the contestants. They were the strange pillow chested people, and they were wearing very skimpy outfits. Even skimpier than “Malibu Fever,” if that was possible.

What shocked A4216 was his reaction to these odd people. He was fascinated. And not in the old, freakshow kind of way, either. He was downright mesmerized. He heard B’ saying something and felt an elbow digging his ribs, but he completely ignored it. He could not take his eyes off the magnificent creatures. They did not seem odd at all anymore, but alluring... mysterious. He felt an attraction the likes of which he had never known. He watched how their chest pillows moved and jiggled, and found himself captivated by the curve of their hips. He looked around. How come no one around here looked like that?

Another thing occurred to him at that moment. Why did all the people on teevee look different from each other? What had always seemed funny and a little stupid now puzzled him profoundly. He looked around. Everyone looked exactly the same. Except for age differences and missing limbs, they were identical.

Of course, that was natural. That’s just the way people looked. Everyone knew that. But why didn’t the teevee people look the same? And why had he never wondered this in the past? It seemed a pretty obvious question.

He glanced around once again, and saw how everyone was laughing and pointing at the two strange people, who were now covered in chocolate and were rolling around on the mat. A4216 once again felt the strange titillation and quickly looked away. He had to get out, and quick.

A few friends called out to him as he left, but he ignored them. He walked through the dining hall and out to the pool area. The sky was blue and billowy clouds floated aimlessly about. Strange how the sky was always normal in all the teevee shows, but everything else was different. The landscape, the people, even the buildings were strange and alien. Why?

He spent the rest of the evening sitting by the pool, looking up at the sky, thinking. Something was terribly wrong.

After a while, he went back inside where the others were filing into the sleep rooms. He joined the line and was soon lying on his back in his bed.

Yet sleep would not come. He could not shake the feeling that something terrible was happening. He felt as if his whole world was coming apart. Once again, he thought of the little pink pills. Surely there was some connection between what he was feeling and the lack of those pills. But physically, he felt fine. Other than the strange sense of dread, he felt ok mentally, too. In fact, he felt sharp and focused in a way he never had before.

An hour passed, then two, and still he could not sleep. Another first. He’d never heard of anyone having this problem. Sleep simply came.

After a while, he sat up and climbed down. He looked around. Everyone was fast asleep.

He walked out to the dining hall and sat down, head in hands. What was happening to him? Worse, what was happening to the world around him? Everything suddenly seemed off kilter and odd.

He raised his head and sat back.

Ok, take it easy. Just think. What exactly is it that’s bothering you?

He took a deep breath.

One: Suddenly everyone around him seemed stupid and shallow.

Two: Suddenly those strange people on teevee were no longer funny looking but were compellingly attractive.

Three: Suddenly he did not want to sacrifice. He did not want to be a Martyr. In fact, the very thought of it made him feel all weird.

Four: Suddenly he was cripplingly bored. He could find no satisfaction in the things that had entertained him in the past.

There might have been more, but this was more than enough to think about for now. Clearly, the pink pills were related, but how? How could stupid little pills change so much? There was no way food could alter reality in the way his reality had been altered. There had to be some other answer.

He walked into the chapel. A1 smiled benignly at him. A4216 walked over to the metal door behind the statue. He sensed that part of the answer could be found behind this door. He slid his hand over the smooth, cool surface. He rapped his knuckles. Tong, tong, tong. He looked around the perimeter of the door. Nothing.

He walked around the statue and walked up to the altar. The book was gone, and there were only cracks to outline the trapdoor through which the book had sunk. He tried to get his fingernails into the crack but could find no purchase. He looked around the sides of the altar and under the top slab of it. Nothing.

He left the chapel and turned to enter the teevee room. He walked around the couches and plush chairs until he was directly in front of the giant screen. He found the control panel to the right of the screen. On the panel were three buttons: On/off, volume up, and volume down. He pressed the on/off button. The words “Manual override mode” flashed briefly on the screen before it returned to black.

Again, he searched the area, all around the screen and control panel. Nothing. He did notice an inch gap around the screen, which led him to believe that the screen itself was more than a flat surface, but instead part of a larger mechanism that was recessed into the wall. By placing the fingers of both hands into the gap and pulling, he found that he could move it, ever so slightly.

He spent the next hour or so working at moving the screen outward. At times he would sit on the floor, bracing both feet against the wall while pulling on the screen console. Sometimes he would stand, one foot up and braced against the wall, pulling with desperate jerking motions.

Very quickly into his exertions, he found that there was more to the screen than a flat surface. His work had shown that the console, made of a flat black material, indeed went back another two feet or so. After two hours of heavy work and pulling, he’d pulled the screen out enough to reveal a foot wide gap behind the back of the console.

He paused a moment, looking into the darkness behind the screen. Once again, he felt that strange sensation... quick breath, accelerated heartbeat, shaky hands... what was happening to him?

It appeared to be very dark in there. No dimmed wall lights.

Because no one is supposed to be in there, idiot!

He ignored the voice in his head, took a deep breath, and squeezed into the darkness. By reaching out his arms, he was able to tell that he was in a rather large area.

After a few minutes, his eyes adjusted enough to see dim forms around him. Eventually, he found a switch and turned it on. He found himself in a sizable little nook. It was the same width as the teevee room, and perhaps fifteen or twenty feet deep. He could see the back side of the teevee screen. From this side it was a giant, flat black box. There was a thick cable coming out its back. A4216 saw that it led to a large metal box hanging on the wall.

He saw also that there was a gray metal door on the back wall. He moved immediately to the door and tried it, but to no avail. He could find no way to open it. He returned his attention to the gray metal box where the cable from the teevee terminated.

Walking over to it, he saw that there was some sort of handle. After a few minutes, he figured out the latch and opened it.

What he saw inside made no sense at all to him. Hundreds of bright metal screws held down a snake’s nest of little wires. He tried to trace one of the small wires, but soon gave up. All he could tell was that a large wire entered through the top of the box, split into hundreds of smaller wires, made a crazy maze, and then somehow came back together at the bottom of the box, formed into a big cable again, and went on to the teevee.

There were a dozen or so switches in the panel, similar to the light switches he was familiar with. Each had a small label under it with printed letters or numbers. Again, he could make no sense of them.

He felt frustrated because he had come so far, and found such strange machinery, only to discover that ultimately it was worthless. What good was it to find something mysterious if you could not penetrate the mystery?

Suddenly, he thought of something he had not included on his earlier list of new, odd things happening lately. He had not listed his brief vision of the bearded man. That was probably the strangest event yet, and the most unsettling. How could he have forgotten?

Thinking about him now, he had a sudden inspiration. He felt a little silly, but there was no one here to see. Now, what had he said? Something about the truth... He spoke aloud into the darkness.

“Um, I’m praying now... hello?” No reply.

“Well, this is A4216, maybe you remember me from yesterday? I asked for the truth and you showed your face to me. I don’t know who you are, but would you please help me? I just felt like you were, well... nice...”

A4216 couldn’t think of anything else, so he just closed his eyes and said “Amen.”

When he opened them, nothing was different. Heck, he hadn’t even seen a vision this time. All he had seen when he opened his eyes was a switch that read ‘MOM.’

MOM? What a strange word. He mouthed it. Mom. Sounded like something a baby would say. Again he felt disappointment washing over him, but he fought it.

Hold on. If the Kindman showed me that switch, there must be a reason. Just think!

Suddenly his eyes lit up and his mouth opened in a perfect ‘O.’

Manual Override Mode! It was what was on the teevee screen!

With a quick prayer to his new guardian spirit, he flipped the switch.

Nothing happened.

With a groan, he looked around the room once more. Nothing else to see. Maybe he would come back some other time and see if he could get that metal door open, but for now he was getting tired. Time to get to bed. Firstmeal was now only a few hours away.

He spent the next few minutes pushing the screen back in place, which was much easier now, since he was not struggling to find purchase for his fingers on a slick edge. He simply braced his back against the edge of the screen and pushed with his legs. Soon everything was back in place.

He was about to go back to bed, when on a whim, he pushed the on/off button once again.

The screen flickered to full color life.

A4216 took a step back as two strange looking people filled the screen. This wasn’t like any of the other shows he had seen. No one was arguing, or kissing, or throwing things. They were just talking. He quickly lowered the volume so as not to wake anyone, and walked to the couch to listen.

A strange looking man was sitting behind a desk and talking to a pillow chest person. There were little boxes under each person with letters. The man behind the desk had a box that said, “James Orgen, Host, Late Night Talk.” The pillow person’s box said, “Ambra Ledgerman, Clone Advocate.”

None of this made any sense to A4216 - why not list their names? But then he remembered how people on teevee often took strange word names instead of normal number names. He figured there was plenty he did not understand, so simply sat quietly and listened to their conversation.

Ambra was speaking passionately. “But don’t you see, Jim, they are human beings!”

The man answered, “Surely you are not suggesting they have souls! Come on Ambra, this ground has been covered over and over. The Union of Churches has proclaimed that artificially created beings do not have souls. The United Congress has formally declared that they have no rights or privileges under law. Your argument fails on both a spiritual and legal level. Give it up!”

Ambra shook her head. “I will not. As long as the medical establishment continues to farm clones for body parts, I will not give up. Every life is precious, Jim, even those lives that are begot in a laboratory. And just because the government and the Union of Churches finds them inhuman does not make it so. You know as well as I that both of those organizations have received billions from clone farm interest groups. Jim, let me ask you... have you ever met a clone?”

The man seemed taken aback. “Well, no, its not allowed.”

“Have you ever wondered why the farms never allow it? Its because once you meet one face-to-face, you will know in your heart that they are real, valid humans. Not animals that we can use for grafts and transplants.”

A4216 was starting to get very uncomfortable. What were they talking about? Something about this conversation was ringing a bell...

“Well, listen,” said the man, “all of that is moot. The clones are treated very well. They live full and pleasant lives. They’re given plenty of exercise, entertainment, and nutritious sustenance. Heck, a lot of real humans don’t have it that good.”

“You forget the regular amputations and surgeries!” shouted Ambre, “Don’t try to pull that ‘well treated’ crap. They are treated like cattle, but they’re human beings!”

“Well,” said Jim, “that’s debatable. What’s not debatable is the outcome. Let’s see the final result of your evil clone farms, shall we Ambre?”

With that, a young boy trotted from behind a curtain to stand next to the man’s desk. The strange creature named Ambre seemed outraged, but the man didn’t notice. He said, “What’s your name, little boy?”

“Timmy.”

“And what do you know about the farms?”

“Well,” said the adorable little lad, “alls I know is I was gonna die, and my church raised enough money for me to get a new liver from a farm. Um, I guess I would be dead right now if it wasn’t for them farms.”

The boy looked back behind the curtains and added, “I love the clone farms!”

“Well, there you have it, Ambre. How can you argue with that?

“I know good things come of it,” she replied through clenched teeth, “but that doesn’t make it right, dammit!”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say, Ambre. I happen to know you don’t have any children. I think you would change your tune if someone you loved needed the farms.”

“I sincerely hope not, Jim.”

The man turned towards the teevee and said, “Well, now you’ve heard what the wacko left says... what do you think?”

The teevee speakers erupted with the sound of a large audience booing and laughing. Ambre was trying to say something, but she could no longer be heard. She stood up, mutely screaming, and was finally pulled bodily off the stage by uniformed men. The crowd continued to jeer and laugh at full volume. Soon the scene changed, and a commercial came on.

A4216 sat in his plush chair, a single tear trailing down his left cheek. Now he understood. Now it all made sense. The holy ceremony of Martyrdom was simply a harvest of body parts. The pool and physical exercise were meant to keep their bodies healthy and viable as transplants. And the pink pills... the pink pills were not for nutrition or sustenance. They were to keep the clones happy. To keep them from asking obvious questions. To repress normal desires. To make their daily routine tolerable and even enjoyable. To help them sleep. To keep them from revolting.

A4216 sat for another hour, until some of his friends found him the next morning.

“Hey A’ what are you doing in here? Its time for firstmeal!” said one friend.

“Yeah, and afterwards, we’re going outside to play marco-pollo!” said another.

A4216 looked up at their happy, simple faces and began to weep.

Oh, the terrible tragedy...

They were confused by his behavior, but nothing could bring them down, and they ushered him into the dining hall. Everyone was popping pills, laughing, singing, telling stupid jokes and generally having way too much fun.

His friends put his pill cup in his hand and gave him a glass of water.

A4216 looked around. Everyone was so happy. So carefree.

He took the pills.

All of them.

After a while, he started to feel much better.