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III
He had noticed that she had not come to work. He would be having his lunch by himself then. He did not mind. But then he had grown used to her company. In his old days, it was hard not to feel agitated by a break in routine. He did not know her, not really. But she seemed to like hearing his stories and he had no one else to talk to. He checked again and the new girl was still there, sitting in her place at the reception desk.
He knew better than to ask anyone about her. He knew they would not want him to draw attention to her non-appearance. If she indeed failed to show up for work in the next few days, there would be others asking questions. Then like another person gone missing, she would be eventually forgotten. It was not uncommon in this town for certain people, who were not really from around here and with no real ties to the community, to suddenly leave without explanation.
At lunchtime, he missed her again. For real, for the first time. She had befriended him within the first few days of her job. From day one, he had noticed her, sitting alone. It was she who had approached him first. It was she who had started talking to his taciturn lonesome self. It was several days before he had responded beyond monosyllables. By then, they had become sort of an odd pair who had lunch together but nobody particularly noticed them. She did not talk about herself or her past. He did not mind. The less you knew, the easier it was. But there was no dearth of talking material. She was curious about this sleepy town she had moved to live in and work. And as long as he did not have to talk about himself or his past, he did not mind.
He shook his head but could not stop thinking about her. She was now like one of those who had gone. It would not be good to think of her anymore. They did not like him getting attached to their subjects. They were strict masters and their hold on him was too deep. It was better that he got used to being alone again. He did not have any friends or contemporaries anymore. Most of the time he did not mind. But despite himself, he could not but wonder if her absence was just a one-off or if she had really gone to the abandoned research facility.
He had liked her. Her unfeigned interest in his convoluted style of storytelling had endeared her to him. When he had told her about the abandoned research facility for the first time, it was like any one of the other dozen stories he had told her. Of course, the outrageous rumors about the place were something no one else could tell or corroborate. He knew how to hook her imagination. He did not know her well at all, not beyond their lunchtime association. But even uncoached of psychology, he had understood this much of her, at least. It had served his purpose.
He knew exactly what to tell and how much to leave unsaid. He had had practice over the years. It was not the first time for him. But then he had unexpectedly warned her about going looking for trouble. He had not been stupid like that for ages. Not since he had learned the bitter and painful cost that accompanied any forewarning in his otherwise fascinating tales about the now defunct and haunted American Cyanamid Agricultural Research.
He felt a chill as he remembered what had followed his indiscretion. The masters were fiercely displeased although she had not taken his ambiguous words of warning seriously. Still, he had paid the price as he knew he would as they let him know the full measure of their displeasure. He had to take a four-day leave of absence to recover from the judgment. When he came back to work, he was fearful lest her interest had cooled off in the meantime. But the urban legend with the caveat had given it authenticity in her mind. So, when she broached the topic again herself, hungry to know more, he had eagerly fanned her imagination. He knew better than to caution her again. He had always known the consequences and the reminder that his sudden growing of conscience resulted was lesson enough. Now when he spoke, it was only to prime her by suggesting innuendos about the place after it was deserted.
All those years back, the suits who had come to supervise the closing of the facility that put food on so many tables in the town had not bothered to explain anything. He was too down the food chain for them to bother with giving him any reason. He was just laid off without notice and only a week’s severance check. Most of the unskilled workers had moved to other towns. Those who stayed like him got less-paying jobs, grumbled, drank, and moved on with their lives. The lab geeks and the big bosses who ran the place were also gone as were the suits. In less than a year the place was forgotten. What had buzzed with people and activities suddenly became one of the thousand sleepy towns that existed and which no one much cared about.
He did not remember how or why it happened that transpired next, so there was no lie to not include it in his tales. Sin of omission, a voice whispered from the memory of old churchgoing days. But it was easy enough to throttle that voice. He no longer went to church. He no longer believed in god. Not after what had happened.
He had first heard the humming and the chittering one evening when he was alone at home drinking. Even in his usual state of stupor, it had felt like a clarion call slicing through his consciousness like a knife through butter. He did not know who, he did not know what. But they had called to him and he could do nothing but obey the summons. They were the masters. He had to serve them.
They also showed him what happened to those who resisted. They were not to be disobeyed. He had no intention of playing the hero by defying them and becoming an example himself. There were many methodical lessons, broken down for him and repeated till they became ingrained in his mind. He just wanted to do as bid and never to see or feel again what he saw and felt. But the lessons had gone on for many days even when he thought he had learned. Misery knew no mercy. He might not believe in god and sins. But he believed in hell and them. They were the masters. They were relentless.
Suddenly he looked around and found himself still sitting in the cafeteria. He moved quickly. He had to finish his janitorial duties before leaving and he was longing to go home to his beers and his television reruns and oblivion. All this dwelling in the past was unpleasant and fraught with danger. The masters would be disappointed again if he was careless. They always knew! He did not want to get punished. Not again!
Epilogue
The pink sky had parted to reveal the spiral of a wormhole. The humming sound of the hyperactive hive mind and the chittering of the individual filled the air. The machine had earlier registered a spike in carbon dioxide level that could only be caused by those oxygen-sucking creatures. It was a nuisance but not at all difficult to exterminate these pests whenever needed. All to be done was to increase the artificial radiation level and these feeble-bodied and fragile-minded creatures readily obliged by dropping off dead. One of them was dead now. It was necessary. He was not the subject. The male species were too abundant and had a limited scope of study. The subject was supposed to be a female. They needed the subject alive. She was supposed to be of prime breeding capability and the first of her kind with such a promising attribute. Others before her were too old or genomically faulty. Many experiments were lined up for her. Since entering this mission outpost, she had already been scanned and cleared as a perfectly healthy subject. The hive mind knew she was hiding on the premises, and the primitive manner of hunting such a primitive species was both a fitting and oddly enjoyable diversion. She has willingly wandered inside their base in a misguided pursuit of knowledge. The predictability of the behavior of these pseudo-intelligent species was appalling. The hive mind checked on the old creature and found the telepathic connection subjugating it strong and secure. He was no threat, a compliant slave and procurer of subjects for them. He had been properly vetted and tutored. The beaming up of the pest was logged as complete. He had been successfully transported back to home. Even dead, some experiments could still be conducted. Strangely enough, in some circles, they were even considered a delicacy, although it was a dividing opinion among the usually unanimous. There is no accounting for taste but at least, nothing was wasted. In terms of this planet’s queer timestream, it had been decades since they first arrived and started working on this particular primitive species. There were still so many things to study and learn. The killing and dissection of the earliest subjects before experimenting on them had limited the insights. So, now only live subjects were used. Some feelers had been sent out to probe their exposure following the pest’s arrival. The hive mind was satisfied that their secret presence among the species was still undiscovered. It was of trivial import, although staying under the radar during the experimentation phase served them well. Anyway, it was easy to mind-control or obliterate the surplus supply of subjects that infested the entire planet like purposeless bugs. But all of that later. The current subject was reported to have been located. The hunt was over, the prize at hand. The planet, in the meantime, had changed direction in boring regularity to reveal the lone red star once again and mask the sky in its light. Back home, the sixty-seventh half-hour of the quarter-night of their mission commenced. It was time to secure the subject and begin.
She slowly turned to face them. She was trapped inside the nightmare of what she had seen, without and within. It was chaos and all volition of her mind was gone while the beating of her own heart seemed deafening. She sank into unconsciousness but did not collapse. Their light kept her floating midair as the breaking dawn lit up the corridor in the abandoned research facility. Across town, the teeming mass of unsuspecting humanity woke up to start living another day of indifferent normalcy.
THE END
