Categories > Original > Sci-Fi > Untitled
The next door down was labeled B3. Inside the room was another boy identical to the others. He was lying on his back on the bed, sound-blocking headphones covering his ears. His fingers were laced behind his head, ankles crossed. One of his feet tapped to the tune neither the tech nor Keeton could hear.
"This one is a little more rebellious than the others, but not much." The tech said, "He can't stand to be without some source of noise around him. That's how he kills. His vocal chords somehow can produce a frequency that breaks eardrums. It interferes with some of the brains vital processes . . . even bursts blood vessels." He held a hand out to the wall. "Which is why this room is sound proofed. Like I said, we take every precaution. . . But the danger only gets worse as we move along."
At the next room, labeled B2, the tech stayed a little farther away from the glass than before. Keeton took note. Though the rooms were obviously secure, fear still had a profound effect.
Past the glass wall was a room identical to the rest, along with what appeared to be the same boy. The repeating image would have made Keeton disoriented if the halls and doors hadn't been so clearly numbered.
Inside room B2, another boy was lying out on the ground. In his hand was a bottle of chocolate syrup. He simply poured it directly into his mouth. When he realized he was being watched, he sat up, wiped syrup off his mouth onto a white sleeve, and flashed a grin at the two men looking at him. Keeton didn't fail to notice the way the boy's incisors were sharply pointed on both top and bottom. That was what the boy wanted him to see, he was sure.
The tech cleared his throat. "This one requires more caution than the others. It may be a result of the way he's been cooped up or something that happened at birth, or even a side effect of his own abilities, but he . . . he has no regard for life. In truth, he cares about the other four and no one else. It's strange really. To most he shows animosity or hints at trouble, even causes it, but when he's around his brothers, he calms. Especially the first one I showed you. Around that one, this one acts . . . well, downright maternal."
Keeton nodded, taking in the information. "His ability?"
The tech looked at the clipboard in his hands, but it was only because the boy's continual, steady stare was making him nervous. "He's a bit like a snake, this one. His body produces a toxin deadly to everything we've tested it on. It's injected through a bite."
"And the bottle in his hand?" This was simply curiosity.
The tech smiled faintly. "This one has a major sweet tooth. He eats sweets and just about every food imaginable whenever he can, but he never gains more than a few pounds. His weight fluctuates, but only within a ten pound variant."
The tech turned to continue on the walk, but stopped at a wall. Reaching into the plexiglass compartment mounted on the wall, he pulled out two pairs of dark black sunglasses.
"Put these on, Mr. Keeton." He said, slipping on his own pair as he handed the other over, "No matter what, do not remove them."
Keeton did as directed. He knew that one false step could - and most likely would - mean his life.
Wary, he followed the tech through the door and came to another room behind a glass wall. This one was different. Inside the room, the walls and furniture were splattered with color. When his eyes settled on the boy sitting at the table, Keeton knew why.
The boy sat serenely, one hand holding a paint brush, the other holding his head up. Scattered around the room were paint tubes of all different colors. On the table, Keeton could see a detailed painting of an old, Victorian house in progress. The boy worked at an even, leisurely pace. Unlike the others, he barely spared them a glance. His expression was completely unreadable.
"This one is the most dangerous of them all," The tech said, fear edging in on his voice, "Part of which is because we can never figure out what he's thinking. He keeps his expressions, his body language - everything - under strict control."
"And the other reasons?" Keeton asked, eyes fixed firmly on the seemingly harmless boy behind the glass.
"His morals. They're all but nonexistent. The only thing that matters to him is his brothers. He'll do whatever it takes to protect them or to get what he wants. It doesn't matter who he kills. It doesn't matter what he destroys. . . The final reason is his abilities. If he can see your eyes, you're a dead man. We're not sure exactly how, but he can control . . . manipulate . . . and kill, with only a look."
After a moment of uneasy silence, the tech shook his head and walked back towards the door leading out into the hall.
"Well," He said, continuing with the speech he had practiced, "As I've said before, we do our best to provide them with the best that we can. As you may have seen, there are two doors in the back of every room, one leading to a bathroom and the other to an airlock. They must go through the airlock before going anywhere else. It's not often that we allow them anywhere but each other's rooms, but it does happen. Don't worry, though, Mr. Keeton. Cameras are stationed to cover every possible inch of this place, sensors cover the rest and guards are always on duty. You're perfectly safe here. . ."
The tech continued talking, but Keeton only gave the younger man half of his attention. He wasn't on a strict timetable to report his findings and would let the man finish his spiel. He wouldn't let himself forget anything he'd heard.
"This one is a little more rebellious than the others, but not much." The tech said, "He can't stand to be without some source of noise around him. That's how he kills. His vocal chords somehow can produce a frequency that breaks eardrums. It interferes with some of the brains vital processes . . . even bursts blood vessels." He held a hand out to the wall. "Which is why this room is sound proofed. Like I said, we take every precaution. . . But the danger only gets worse as we move along."
At the next room, labeled B2, the tech stayed a little farther away from the glass than before. Keeton took note. Though the rooms were obviously secure, fear still had a profound effect.
Past the glass wall was a room identical to the rest, along with what appeared to be the same boy. The repeating image would have made Keeton disoriented if the halls and doors hadn't been so clearly numbered.
Inside room B2, another boy was lying out on the ground. In his hand was a bottle of chocolate syrup. He simply poured it directly into his mouth. When he realized he was being watched, he sat up, wiped syrup off his mouth onto a white sleeve, and flashed a grin at the two men looking at him. Keeton didn't fail to notice the way the boy's incisors were sharply pointed on both top and bottom. That was what the boy wanted him to see, he was sure.
The tech cleared his throat. "This one requires more caution than the others. It may be a result of the way he's been cooped up or something that happened at birth, or even a side effect of his own abilities, but he . . . he has no regard for life. In truth, he cares about the other four and no one else. It's strange really. To most he shows animosity or hints at trouble, even causes it, but when he's around his brothers, he calms. Especially the first one I showed you. Around that one, this one acts . . . well, downright maternal."
Keeton nodded, taking in the information. "His ability?"
The tech looked at the clipboard in his hands, but it was only because the boy's continual, steady stare was making him nervous. "He's a bit like a snake, this one. His body produces a toxin deadly to everything we've tested it on. It's injected through a bite."
"And the bottle in his hand?" This was simply curiosity.
The tech smiled faintly. "This one has a major sweet tooth. He eats sweets and just about every food imaginable whenever he can, but he never gains more than a few pounds. His weight fluctuates, but only within a ten pound variant."
The tech turned to continue on the walk, but stopped at a wall. Reaching into the plexiglass compartment mounted on the wall, he pulled out two pairs of dark black sunglasses.
"Put these on, Mr. Keeton." He said, slipping on his own pair as he handed the other over, "No matter what, do not remove them."
Keeton did as directed. He knew that one false step could - and most likely would - mean his life.
Wary, he followed the tech through the door and came to another room behind a glass wall. This one was different. Inside the room, the walls and furniture were splattered with color. When his eyes settled on the boy sitting at the table, Keeton knew why.
The boy sat serenely, one hand holding a paint brush, the other holding his head up. Scattered around the room were paint tubes of all different colors. On the table, Keeton could see a detailed painting of an old, Victorian house in progress. The boy worked at an even, leisurely pace. Unlike the others, he barely spared them a glance. His expression was completely unreadable.
"This one is the most dangerous of them all," The tech said, fear edging in on his voice, "Part of which is because we can never figure out what he's thinking. He keeps his expressions, his body language - everything - under strict control."
"And the other reasons?" Keeton asked, eyes fixed firmly on the seemingly harmless boy behind the glass.
"His morals. They're all but nonexistent. The only thing that matters to him is his brothers. He'll do whatever it takes to protect them or to get what he wants. It doesn't matter who he kills. It doesn't matter what he destroys. . . The final reason is his abilities. If he can see your eyes, you're a dead man. We're not sure exactly how, but he can control . . . manipulate . . . and kill, with only a look."
After a moment of uneasy silence, the tech shook his head and walked back towards the door leading out into the hall.
"Well," He said, continuing with the speech he had practiced, "As I've said before, we do our best to provide them with the best that we can. As you may have seen, there are two doors in the back of every room, one leading to a bathroom and the other to an airlock. They must go through the airlock before going anywhere else. It's not often that we allow them anywhere but each other's rooms, but it does happen. Don't worry, though, Mr. Keeton. Cameras are stationed to cover every possible inch of this place, sensors cover the rest and guards are always on duty. You're perfectly safe here. . ."
The tech continued talking, but Keeton only gave the younger man half of his attention. He wasn't on a strict timetable to report his findings and would let the man finish his spiel. He wouldn't let himself forget anything he'd heard.
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