Levelling a Novella: a dark mind-bending sci-fi horror Read online

“The way I look at it,” Taka said, smiling calmly. “Yesterday I was dead and tomorrow I’ll be dead again. This time was stolen to begin with, so what’s the difference? It boils down to this: I didn’t do enough when I could have done more.”

  His eyes locked on Addison’s.

  “We could have done more.”

  The defendant fell silent, but there was a roaring in Addison’s ears so loud it seemed the entire court was shaking.

  “Let’s get on with it,” Taka said, returning to parade rest.

  The Judge stood, the first time he’d done so for any returnee.

  “Taka Everett,” he called. “I am impressed by your candour, but your sentence remains the same. Your death will be swift, but it will not be painless. And the method of that death will be in line with the manner of your crimes.”

  “Wait…!” Addison shouted, leaping to his feet.

  But it was too late, the mantis drone was already streaking through the air, a black-red blur of death. Please let it be different, Addison thought, knuckles gripping his stand, please let it mean something, some small mercy…

  But it was the same as ever. Taka died screaming. And when it was over, Addison still had to fetch his mop.

  * * *

  After Taka, Addison stopped feeling things entirely. He stopped flinching during executions, stopped worrying about lying to the returnees, stopped seeing them as even remotely human. During his sessions he was on autopilot, the lies coming easier each time: a hug here, a joke there, shepherding his unsuspecting lambs to the ritual slaughter.

  But as time went on, Taka’s words ate at him.

  We could have done more.

  Addison turned the phrase over and over in his mind. More. The word was a judgement, a damning verdict worse than anything the levellers handed down. Taka had looked into his soul, measured the contents and found him wanting. Because it was true: Addison had done nothing. In fact, he’d done worse, he’d actively helped the levellers. He was complicit, a collaborator.

  In a final twist, Addison’s mental acrobatics stopped working. No longer could he justify his actions by insisting the defendants were just clones – using their dubious humanity to excuse the lack of his – because he just didn’t believe it. Taka hadn’t been ‘just a clone,’ so neither were they. They were people and he was helping kill them. And that made him a monster.

  And yet...

  More.

  The word expanded in Addison’s mind, unfurling like a flower greeting the sun. As the petals peeled away, he saw the different levels, all its hidden meanings. First and foremost it was an accusation, the same accusation made by the levellers: that Addison could have done more in his old life, where he’d stood for nothing and stood up for no-one. But it was also a lamentation: we could have done more. Taka was speaking to him directly, mourning the loss of time they would never share. And finally, most importantly, it was an invitation: to do more, to be more.

  It was truly elegant, Taka’s three-fold message, but Addison knew the last part mattered most. From beyond his second grave, Taka was pleading with him to make his actions mean something, to do something important.

  And then, with a blinding clarity Addison saw what had to be done. There would be pain, unimaginable suffering, but he had to try. He had to do something.

  He had to do more.

  * * *

  Addison stole out of his cellsuite in the dead of the night. The pyramid was the darkest he’d ever seen it, the grey-white light all but extinguished. Even his artificially-generated overlay was muted, the sleeping jungle still and silent, but he knew the way.

  He snaked down ramp after ramp, descending the criss-crossing balconies until he was in the lower levels. The light was different down here, ebbing and receding eerily. In the vision chair Addison had seen oceans rise, drowning entire cities, and he wondered if that had once happened to the institute. Perhaps it had once been like an iceberg, only its uppermost point above water before the seas boiled away, and the pulsing mistwalls were simulating great ocean swells. Maybe, long ago, he would have seen whales, sharks and other strange creatures of the deep floating by outside. Except, there were no more sharks, nor whales. They had long since departed.

  Addison slipped silently into the levelling room and padded over the floor. He didn’t hesitate, scooting quickly up the footwell ladder until he was on the access balcony he’d seen all those weeks ago. Below lay the levelling apparatus: great vats of biomatter, huge crystalline machinery and a serpentine network of pipes that coiled and coruscated into the shadows. Some of the machinery was wrong somehow, blurring out at the edges, but there was enough of the sharp, solid stuff for his needs.

  The interpreter could already sense his intent. It was growing hot, vibrating, and with every step he took towards the edge the pain intensified. But it didn’t matter, at a certain point gravity would take over.

  For this was how Addison would beat the levellers. If his captors left him no weapons, he would become the weapon. He would cast himself into the machinery, gumming up its inner workings with his body. He knew they would ultimately repair the damage, but it would take time, and perhaps the institute would fall before then. Even a small delay might save a few people, the next Taka or Caroline, and that would be enough. It was his way to honour Taka’s memory and atone for all the suffering he had caused.

  “Eyes on the prize,” he whispered.

  Addison breathed in, ignored the agony shooting up his spine and took another step towards the edge.

  The walls suddenly erupted in noise.

  It was the pounding, the same sound as before, but this time it was ear-splittingly close. The room shook so violently Addison was knocked off his feet. Dust and debris tumbled from the ceiling, a huge crack ripped through the mistwall, and out in the machinery came the sound of shattering glass.

  The pounding intensified, and Addison was smashed against the balcony floor. He screamed, completely disoriented. The sound wasn’t just in the walls, it was coming from the floor, the ceiling, everywhere. Something else smashed and the balcony bucked to one side, pitching him towards the edge.

  Then suddenly, it was over. The pounding ceased in an instant, the room stopped shaking and everything fell silent.

  Almost everything.

  Someone was screaming. From somewhere in the levelling machinery came a sound like a wounded animal, a keening noise that echoed mournfully off the mistwalls. It set Addison’s teeth on edge, and for a second he almost fled the room, leaving whoever – whatever – was down there to its fate.

  Then Taka’s face swam before his eyes.

  Do more.

  “Ah hell,” Addison muttered.

  Steeling himself, he sprang down the mistwall ladder on the other side of the partition and into the machinery. The space was dizzying, confusing, not least because half the machines didn’t seem to be entirely there, but he had the sound to guide him. He passed strange glass structures, huge vats of still-sloshing liquid and bilious growths of cabling that blistered out of the walls, before rounding a corner to find a figure lying prone on the floor.

  “Five!”

  The leveller was half-covered by fallen piping.

  “Are you injured?” Addison asked, rushing over.

  “Not badly,” Five groaned, pain etched into his face. “But I’m in trouble. I’m not supposed to be down here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid!” he hissed. “I thought I could help, I though I could get back in One’s graces, reascend. I thought––”

  “What the hell are you talking about!” Addison said as he cleared fallen debris off the man.

  “There was a problem with the machinery, a cross-referencing error. We thought we were bringing back a new returnee, but we instead re-revived a defendant from weeks ago. You may remember him, he took a swing at the judge?”

  “You can really do that?” Addison asked, straining as he hefted a sliver of glass that for some reason weighed a small ton. “Re-resurrect someone from the same sample?”

  “You shouldn’t, but you can. But that’s not the point. The error caused a delay, so I came down here to fix it, make myself useful. The others don’t even know I’m gone. I interrupted my cycle, they won’t be able to––”

  Five trailed off suddenly, his face going white. He coughed and a nauseating spray of black bile spattered onto his chest. Addison jerked back in disgust, and the man began to convulse.

  “Five!” Addison shouted. “What’s happening?”

  The leveller’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he made a horrible moaning noise.

  “What do I do?”

  The seizure abated, and Five groaned again.

  “Chambers!” he mumbled, pawing at Addison’s arm. “You must… I need my chambers. Quickly. Don’t have long…”

  “But that’s twenty odd levels!”

  Five convulsed again, eyes rolling into the back of his head. As black drool trailed from his lips, Addison cried out in frustration. There was no way he could carry the man, frail as he was. It was much too far, he wouldn’t make it in time.

  Then Taka, again.

  Do more.

  Casting about, Addison suddenly saw it. Glinting in the corner under a fallen piece of machinery was Two’s wheelbarrow. Even better, he could see a second doorway just beyond in the gloom, meaning he wouldn’t have to climb back up the ladder.

  Then, catching sight of his reflection in a shard of glass – his face split in two by a large crack in its surface – Addison had the best idea of all.

  “Five, Taka,” he said, eyes narrowing. “Hold on.”

  Addison flew.

  Muscles screaming with the effort, he sprinted up through the institute, pushing the w
heelbarrow as fast as humanly possible. Five weighed almost nothing, but by the third or fourth ramp Addison’s calves were on fire. His breath was ragged and sweat poured from his brow, but he didn’t stop. His one consolation was that whatever had happened to the institute seemed to have knocked out his jungle visions, meaning he didn’t have to battle through foliage and dark overgrowth. The pyramid was as barren as the day he’d arrived.

  “Stay with me, Five,” Addison yelled. “You can die at the end of the world with the rest of us, not in a fucking wheelbarrow!”

  The leveller moaned, curled up in the foetal position.

  “I’ll take that as a yes!”

  Addison ran on. He had no idea what was wrong with Five, no idea if he was going to make it, no idea what the hell he had to do when he got to the upper levels, but at least he was doing something.

  Finally, the wheelbarrow levelled out at the top of the institute. They were on a balcony on the opposite side of the pyramid to the room he’d fled to that first day, the one with the viewing window. This side had an identical doorway, and he knew he was in the right place by the inert mantis drone lying on the floor outside. It was dead, knocked out by whatever had done for the rest of the pyramid.

  Addison laid the wheelbarrow down and started hammering on the door.

  “One?” he yelled. “Four? I’ve got Five. He’s in a bad way!”

  There was no answer. Addison screamed in frustration and aimed a savage kick at the door. He screamed again at the pain that blossomed in his toes.

  “Help!” he shouted. “We need help!”

  The door hissed open, revealing Four, haggard, bleary-eyed, pistol drawn

  “What is the meaning of––”

  “No time!” Addison shouted, pointing desperately to Five. “He’s sick. Dying. Help him!”

  To her credit, Four reacted immediately. In one fluid movement, she scooped up the limp form of her colleague, tossed him over her shoulder like a ragdoll and ran back through the open door.

  “Returnee” she yelled from inside. “Assist me!”

  Addison followed after. The levellers’ chambers were the same as the viewing room, but here there was a quintet of bizarre red-black plinths, almost like thrones, laid out in a crescent shape at the centre. One and Two were each sat on a pair, both restrained by a metal neck brace attached to the backboard, watching in astonishment. A complex tangle of tubes spilled from the back of their skulls through a hole in the plinths and onto the floor, where they snaked across to a central column that whirred and gurgled. In the translucent red/black material Addison could make out faint liquids and viscous fluids.

  “Addison!” Four yelled.

  She was sitting Five down onto one of the empty plinths. He hurried over to help take the now-unconscious man’s weight.

  “Is he okay?” he breathed.

  “If we get him hooked up in time,” she panted, frantically attaching cables.

  “What the hell is all this?”

  “Dialysis.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because of you!” she yelled, fingers flying. “Because of the things you people poured into the atmosphere. If you’d lived on this planet as long as us, your blood would be swimming with toxins too. This cleans us out, keeps us alive. Press here.”

  Four pointed at something metallic on Five’s neck, and Addison realised it was the man’s interpreter. It was small, circular, like a large screwhead, and in the middle was a hollow indent. As he pressed down, holding things in place, Four readied a horrifyingly barbed cable behind the plinth.

  “You do this every night?” Addison whispered.

  “We need to.”

  “But Five didn’t today?”

  “Evidently.”

  “Why the hell did he do that?”

  “Because he’s a fool!” Four snapped, sweat beading on her brow. “He must have left when we were asleep, trying to fix the machines and reascend the hierarchy, as if that matters now. Hold, hold… there!”

  The cable slid into Five’s skull with a solid thunk. There was a whirr from the machines, a sickening gurgling and then a chime from the central column. A neck brace whipped round automatically to hold Five’s head in place, then Four collapsed backwards, sprawling onto the mistwall floor with a relieved sigh.

  Addison breathed out.

  It was over.

  “Returnee!”

  Addison jumped. One was staring at him from his plinth. Restrained, the leveller looked almost comical, rigid and unable to move, but his expression was as searching as ever. There was a long pause as they regarded each other.

  “We owe you a debt, Mr Moore,” the judge replied eventually. “Three staved off the storm, but it knocked out our power. We are on backups, hence why your interpreter is only partially working, but we shall be operational presently. As for Five, you have returned him to us and for that we are grateful.”

  Addison saw his moment and seized it, speaking before he could second guess himself.

  “I want something in return.”

  The judge’s eyes narrowed.

  “You have done a good thing Mr. Moore, but you are in no position to make demands.”

  “I want an assistant.”

  “You want what?” Two said, sat beside the judge.

  “An assistant,” Addison repeated. “You’re processing ten returnees a day now, I can’t keep up. I’m exhausted, overwhelmed, I need help. An assistant.”

  “You need nothing of the sort,” Four snapped. “You will perform your duties as instructed.”

  “Except I can’t do my duties!” Addison shouted, with a vehemence that startled the levellers. “I’m one man, and I’m at my limit. Don’t believe me? I was down in the lower levels because I was trying to kill myself. I’m telling you, I need a fucking assistant!”

  There was a long silence. Four began to say something, but One cut her off with a hand.

  “You have a suggestion, Mr. Moore?”

  Addison took a deep breath, everything hanging on the answer to his next request.

  “Re-level Taka Everett.”

  “Out of the question,” Four said.

  “But you can do it?” Addison pressed “A duplicate? You have his sample on file, so just run it again. It’d be easy, like growing another plant from the original cutting.”

  Another long pause.

  “I am not entirely opposed,” One replied. “But we can almost certainly pick a more suitable candidate. We selected you based on very particular criteria, there must be someone more qualified in the archives.”

  “No, it has to be Taka!”

  Addison had expected this. He had his arguments ready.

  “First,” he began, counting off on his fingers. “Taka adjusted the quickest out of the chair, quicker even than me. Second, you said we need to be efficient, well I know I can work with him. No need to waste time trawling archives when we already have a perfect candidate. And finally, he pleaded guilty! Of all returnees, he agrees with you! It has to be him!”

  Addison fell silent, chest heaving. Four looked furious, but that familiar flickering of expressions was passing over the judge’s face. He was deliberating, deciding, weighing options. Addison held his breath, his entire future hanging in the balance.

  Eventually the judge stilled.

  “Do not make me regret this.”

  – Chapter 5 –

  Taka, Again

  Deep in the bowels of the institute, in a room so secure even the phantasmagorical jungle ended at its door, Addison watched as a twice-dead man was spun back into existence. The levelling machinery in the room where he’d saved Five was vast, row upon row of looming structures stretching away into the darkness, but in this small space there was only a single car-sized tank. Behind the glass, shadows moved in the liquid, the first stirrings of life, and Addison looked on in awe as the levelling began.

  Vat fluid, rich in nutrients, congealed and condensed first into marrow then into bone. Next a bifurcating web of nerves and blood vessels radiated across the growing frame like frost on glass. Delicate tendrils of pink and blue rippled out, spiralling, interweaving, before coalescing into organs and strong, sinewy muscle. Finally, a blanketing membrane of skin bloomed, giving the man recognisable form. Taka was fully-grown in hours, then his memories – pre-extracted from his sample – were delivered via spinal transfer. Imprinted on a synaptic lace designed to dissolve into his brain, their successful implantation was heralded by a series of chimes and readouts that flickered green.