WAVE BY S.E.

ALLBRITTEN

The old womans cat was the final straw. The damned things constant yowling dug into his brain, built up pressure behind his too-black eyes, throbbed like a bad electrical connection. He rolled fitfully on his mattress, holding his head, his face a mask of unutterable agony. Judge Judy, the old bitch, was howling on the television which he thought hed turned down. Her shrikes face leered down at him from the ancient set perched upon his dresser. Fuck! he shouted, rolling onto his side and with a trembling hand drew the machete from under his bed and got to his feet. His head ached so badly now he felt as if he might collapse. Then all the color drained from the world. Oh, god, he thought, please not now. Please not this, not right now The cat hissed at him. He swung the blade. Half of the hateful thing landed on the floor beneath the sill. The rest vanished outside. He turned to the television. Swung again. Sparks and billowing electrical smoke ended Judge Judys reign. He swore he could hear her dying scream lingering behind his eyes. He turned back to the window and looked out. The old bitch next door was raking leaves and the soundoh god the sound He leaned out the window, barely noticing the grisly streak of crimson that

painted the siding beneath his window, not even seeing the half of cat steaming there on the carefully manicured lawn. Stop that noise, you old cunt! he screamed at her, waving the machetes blade as if he could reach her even from this distance. Her birdlike retorts were lost beneath his foul barrage. The urge to leap from his window and chop chop chop was overwhelming, all consuming, beyond the worse addiction hed ever endured. The need was almost sexual, beyond sexual, beyond anything hed ever endured in his twenty years. He jumped.

Okay, shut it down, Billings said, an edge to his voice making it clear he would have no argument. Now. Vanessa Hoback leaned over her keyboard and began typing commands. The computer screen, displaying what Blake Bynum was seeing in the world theyd built for him in Cyberspace, filled with color. A man-hole sized opening in the lawn beneath the boy window appeared. Employing the escape hatch, Vanessa said. Hatch open, subject entering. She watched as a computerized rendering of Blakes sleek, muscular form slipped through the window and fell in. Subject has fallen into the rabbit hole. Beyond a white, closed door, a series of shouted curses erupted. Anger building to a rage that would explode into violence. Billings got to his feet, walked over to a stainless steel box mounted to the wall next to the door. He punched in five numbers on the digital lock and the box sprang open. From within he produced a syringe. Open the door. Jesus, Mitch, Vanessa said, leveling her jewel-like green eyes at him. He

sounds I know what he sounds like, damn you! Hes reliving the morning of the murder. Of course hes upset, enraged. Now open the goddamned door! Vanessa sighed, turned back to her keyboard, and punched in another series of commands. The door unlatched and swung open of its own accord. Billings slipped through quickly, closing the door behind him. Billings walked across the large white room, empty save for the metal gurney placed dead center beneath a bank of LEDs which shone brightly down on the slim, muscular form strapped down upon it. Naked to the waist, adorned with a vast array of tattoos from groin to gullet, shaved head gleaming in the harsh white light. The young man struggled with his bonds. He saw Billings approaching, needle in hand, and renewed his efforts to escape. Get the fuck away from me with that thing! he shouted. Get away! Fuck off! Wordlessly, Billings injected Blake Bynum. The effect was nearly instantaneous, reducing the mans frightful struggles to a mere rumor of violence. When he was satisfied the storm had passed, he walked over to the door, punched a button on a panel located next to it. Lets get him back to his room and bring in the next subject, Vanessa. The door popped open and Billings escaped the White Room.

The White Room swallowed Bynum like the proverbial whale, and Bynum allowed himself to be devoured. He closed his mind off, so that he was unaware of the hidden panel in the wall beyond his feet. Unaware even of the white-clothed figures walking out of that opening to the gurney where, at last, he succumbed to a drug-induced

sleep. The four figures situated themselves around the gurney and took hold of it. What are you doing? Billings voice boomed from hidden speakers. One of the figures in white looked up, and a decided feminine countenance shone anger toward the ceiling where a perfectly hidden camera looked down at her with cold indifference. He has to go back in. You know he does. I dont know any such thing, Melanie. Nor do you. The sims are not working. You saw what he did. The voice boomed like an angry gods. The woman named Melanie supposed thats just what Billings thought he was. The Voice of God. His wrathful anger made Flesh. What bullshit, she told herself. Still the recriminations of carelessness spilled down from that invisible speaker system that lent such power to his voice. He did those things because none of us have figured whats triggering his aggressive nature. Until we find that were working with a time bomb, one that could blow up in all of our faces, Dr. Billings. I am aware of these ramifications, Melanie. I wrote them, remember? Im just wondering if you do, Dr. Billings. The others looked at her with dawning expressions of fear. Among the staff of the Facility there were few whod dared such deep waters. She knew she was wading in over her head, and furthermore they did, too, if their expressions were any sign.