Alias Becky
Jordan Stiles sat in the chair, overlooking the central chamber of the space station Mastock. He made a few remarks with his pen upon his notebook. Setting down the pen, he spoke into a nearby recorder.
“I am speaking with the creatures known as BEK-102, alias Becky. Today, we are going to discuss the creature’s past.” He flipped on the intercom leading into the central chamber. “Good morning, Becky. How are you this fine day?”
A voice, sounding like many voices, ranging from male to female, young to old, connected to detached, human to animal: “I am doing well, Doctor Stiles. And yourself?”
Jordan looked at the giant eye staring back at him through the glass. “I am doing well. Nothing to speak of.”
“It is good that you are doing well.”
Jordan made a few notes. “Becky, in our last conversation, you mentioned that you were a Demon. Would you please elaborate on this?”
“In my world, Doctor Stiles, there are creatures slanted towards good and creatures slanted towards evil. They are likened unto your Angels and Demons. These creatures all come from the same progenitor, and are all related to one another. We are constantly at war, brother killing brother.
“I am one of those creatures of evil, and thus, I am a Demon.”
More scratches in the notebook. “Is it true that you can possess people?”
One of Becky’s discolored tentacles brushed across the glass separating it from Jordan.”If by that you mean control people, yes I can, provided I am able to get a hold of them.”
“That would explain what happened to the priests on Day Naught?”
“Yes. Would you like to see them?” Becky held the bodies of the priests before the glass. They stared at Jordan with lifeless eyes. He cringed slightly as he jotted down a few more notes.
“I-it’s quite all right, Becky. Please, let us move on.”
“Very well,” said Becky. The voice that perpetually emanated disappointment seemed stronger with this last statement.
“N-now, as I recall, you casually mentioned a wish to play with me. What did you mean by this?”
“Simply put, Doctor Stiles, I want you to come play with me, and I with you. Together we can have a happy time. It gets ever so dreadfully boring here in this cell.” The giant eye that stared at him looked as if it were about to shed a tear. “All I really want is a friend.”
“I am your friend, Becky,” said Jordan.
“A true friend would listen, would come in and play with me. Please, Doctor Stiles. All I want to do is play.” Its tentacles writhed as it spoke.
“You know that I cannot come in and play. It is against the rules. Remember the last time someone came in and played with you?”
“I remember the station closing down for some time. I remember armored priests with guns and burning water. I remember them yelling at me and hurting me when I got out. Why did they do that, Doctor Stiles?”
“They were afraid of you.” He scratched a note in his book.
“Why were they afraid of me? I only wanted to play.”
“You play too roughly, Becky. Too roughly. Some people were killed.”
“I do not understand this word, Doctor Stiles. What is it to be killed?”
No concept of death, he wrote. “To be killed is to cease being what you are, and to not exist.”
“So my priests are not killed?” it asked, holding the bodies up again.
“They are, actually.”
“But they are still here, still existing.”
“But that which was them is no more. They are mere bodies now, having no force that propels them to live.” He said this all while trying to look at the former priests.
“So they are just shells, now?” is asked, wiggling the bodies in its tentacles.
“Yes. That is what it is to be killed.”
“I see.” The voice with the hint of remorse was overpowering in this last statement.
More notes.
“What are you writing doctor Stiles?”
“Just notes about our conversation. It’s of no concern.”
“All right. Will you play with me afterwards?”
“Becky, you know I cannot. Please stop asking.”
“I am sorry, Doctor Stiles. I will stop asking.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
“Well, Becky,” he said, closing the notepad and wishing he could stop for the day, “I think we have made some brilliant discoveries today. I shall come by next week to talk with you some more.”
“Okay, Doctor Stiles.”
He flipped off the intercom and spoke into the recorder. “The subject seems to have a puerile thought process, yet seems to understand so much, when it’s broken down into smaller bits. Seems to have a morbid fixation with the bodies, as if they are toys. Will find out more about what the subject plans to do in the future upon our next conversation.”
He saved the recording of the session and packed away his things. He left the observation bay to get back to his room. A corridor between the observation bay and the hallway leading to the residential sector contained an airlock. This was for the express purpose of entering and leaving the central chamber that held BEK-102. Due to the security risks involved with opening this door, it had very little use.
Jordan allowed his eyes to roam to the airlock door. Behind it, he saw a girl, clad in white, a look of terror on her face as she pounded on the airlock door. Jordan dropped his satchel in shock. The central mass of Becky rose behind the girl, blinking its giant eye delightedly.
He ran to the airlock door and pounded on the keypad.
“I am sorry,” said the synthetic computer voice, female. “This door is not authorized for opening.”
“It’s an emergency!” Jordan shouted, slamming his fist on the bulkhead. “There’s a girl trapped in there. I’ve got to save her!” HE pulled a card from his pocket. It read “Emergency Medical Override” upon it, being sufficiently coded to gain access to any part of the station, provided the DNA signature of the cardholder matched the imprinted data on the card. Of course, there was also a lot of paperwork to fill out after the fact. The issue of paperwork did not ever cross Jordan’s mind as he slid the card through the reader.
The door hissed open, triggering a loud alarm to chime throughout the station. He ran inside. It slid closed behind him. After the pressure equalized, the other door hissed open. He grabbed the girl’s hand and puller her into the airlock proper. He noticed one important thing while he did this: a discolored strand trailed from behind her neck. She was connected to Becky.
The eye stared at him as a tentacle wrapped around his ankle.
“Now we can play together, Doctor Stiles, and I didn’t even have to ask.”
“I am speaking with the creatures known as BEK-102, alias Becky. Today, we are going to discuss the creature’s past.” He flipped on the intercom leading into the central chamber. “Good morning, Becky. How are you this fine day?”
A voice, sounding like many voices, ranging from male to female, young to old, connected to detached, human to animal: “I am doing well, Doctor Stiles. And yourself?”
Jordan looked at the giant eye staring back at him through the glass. “I am doing well. Nothing to speak of.”
“It is good that you are doing well.”
Jordan made a few notes. “Becky, in our last conversation, you mentioned that you were a Demon. Would you please elaborate on this?”
“In my world, Doctor Stiles, there are creatures slanted towards good and creatures slanted towards evil. They are likened unto your Angels and Demons. These creatures all come from the same progenitor, and are all related to one another. We are constantly at war, brother killing brother.
“I am one of those creatures of evil, and thus, I am a Demon.”
More scratches in the notebook. “Is it true that you can possess people?”
One of Becky’s discolored tentacles brushed across the glass separating it from Jordan.”If by that you mean control people, yes I can, provided I am able to get a hold of them.”
“That would explain what happened to the priests on Day Naught?”
“Yes. Would you like to see them?” Becky held the bodies of the priests before the glass. They stared at Jordan with lifeless eyes. He cringed slightly as he jotted down a few more notes.
“I-it’s quite all right, Becky. Please, let us move on.”
“Very well,” said Becky. The voice that perpetually emanated disappointment seemed stronger with this last statement.
“N-now, as I recall, you casually mentioned a wish to play with me. What did you mean by this?”
“Simply put, Doctor Stiles, I want you to come play with me, and I with you. Together we can have a happy time. It gets ever so dreadfully boring here in this cell.” The giant eye that stared at him looked as if it were about to shed a tear. “All I really want is a friend.”
“I am your friend, Becky,” said Jordan.
“A true friend would listen, would come in and play with me. Please, Doctor Stiles. All I want to do is play.” Its tentacles writhed as it spoke.
“You know that I cannot come in and play. It is against the rules. Remember the last time someone came in and played with you?”
“I remember the station closing down for some time. I remember armored priests with guns and burning water. I remember them yelling at me and hurting me when I got out. Why did they do that, Doctor Stiles?”
“They were afraid of you.” He scratched a note in his book.
“Why were they afraid of me? I only wanted to play.”
“You play too roughly, Becky. Too roughly. Some people were killed.”
“I do not understand this word, Doctor Stiles. What is it to be killed?”
No concept of death, he wrote. “To be killed is to cease being what you are, and to not exist.”
“So my priests are not killed?” it asked, holding the bodies up again.
“They are, actually.”
“But they are still here, still existing.”
“But that which was them is no more. They are mere bodies now, having no force that propels them to live.” He said this all while trying to look at the former priests.
“So they are just shells, now?” is asked, wiggling the bodies in its tentacles.
“Yes. That is what it is to be killed.”
“I see.” The voice with the hint of remorse was overpowering in this last statement.
More notes.
“What are you writing doctor Stiles?”
“Just notes about our conversation. It’s of no concern.”
“All right. Will you play with me afterwards?”
“Becky, you know I cannot. Please stop asking.”
“I am sorry, Doctor Stiles. I will stop asking.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
“Well, Becky,” he said, closing the notepad and wishing he could stop for the day, “I think we have made some brilliant discoveries today. I shall come by next week to talk with you some more.”
“Okay, Doctor Stiles.”
He flipped off the intercom and spoke into the recorder. “The subject seems to have a puerile thought process, yet seems to understand so much, when it’s broken down into smaller bits. Seems to have a morbid fixation with the bodies, as if they are toys. Will find out more about what the subject plans to do in the future upon our next conversation.”
He saved the recording of the session and packed away his things. He left the observation bay to get back to his room. A corridor between the observation bay and the hallway leading to the residential sector contained an airlock. This was for the express purpose of entering and leaving the central chamber that held BEK-102. Due to the security risks involved with opening this door, it had very little use.
Jordan allowed his eyes to roam to the airlock door. Behind it, he saw a girl, clad in white, a look of terror on her face as she pounded on the airlock door. Jordan dropped his satchel in shock. The central mass of Becky rose behind the girl, blinking its giant eye delightedly.
He ran to the airlock door and pounded on the keypad.
“I am sorry,” said the synthetic computer voice, female. “This door is not authorized for opening.”
“It’s an emergency!” Jordan shouted, slamming his fist on the bulkhead. “There’s a girl trapped in there. I’ve got to save her!” HE pulled a card from his pocket. It read “Emergency Medical Override” upon it, being sufficiently coded to gain access to any part of the station, provided the DNA signature of the cardholder matched the imprinted data on the card. Of course, there was also a lot of paperwork to fill out after the fact. The issue of paperwork did not ever cross Jordan’s mind as he slid the card through the reader.
The door hissed open, triggering a loud alarm to chime throughout the station. He ran inside. It slid closed behind him. After the pressure equalized, the other door hissed open. He grabbed the girl’s hand and puller her into the airlock proper. He noticed one important thing while he did this: a discolored strand trailed from behind her neck. She was connected to Becky.
The eye stared at him as a tentacle wrapped around his ankle.
“Now we can play together, Doctor Stiles, and I didn’t even have to ask.”
Comments
Post a Comment
Please do not post any spam. Spam comments will be deleted.