In 1856, John Conolly, psychiatrist and physician, published his work The Treatment of the Insane Without Mechanical Restraints, in which he carefully detailed the horrors of 19th century asylums and his efforts to modernize them. Before his humane philosophy changed Europe and (eventually) America, the foremost theory about how to treat the insane was to inflict pain upon them--as pain was something the mind could not trick itself into not believing--until their delusions were shattered and sanity returned in the form of begging for mercy. All of sound and unsound mind alike should thank Dr. Conolly for replacing that antiquated and cruel methodology with new padded rooms, therapeutic gardening, and colored crayons.
However...
Dr. Roach would not be in the position she was in if she hadn't a sadomasochistic streak and the willingness to take as much punishment as she gave. In her mind, her score with the Universe was settled at zero, no more no less, and this balance was the only way she could feel right with herself and her actions.
So, her newfound freedom had put her in debt.
And that debt required penance.
Some people repented in front of an altar.
Some people repented behind iron bars.
Dr. Roach repented under rapacious beasts.
She didn't like it--the point was not to like it, after all; but if one was not privy to her reasoning, the way she encouraged monsters to batter her could (understandably) be confused with genuine arousal: an assumption the Boss was wise enough to see through.
And cold enough not to care either way, for in the realms of commerce and communion, transactions were required to maintain functional systems, whether they be businesses or souls.
The man spent himself, released the martyr, and collapsed into an array of expensive pillows.
The woman unclenched her sheet-filled fists, righted her sore pelvis, and breathed as she tallied sums.
She figured she would pay whenever he wished until she stepped off his ship as a free woman, although she hoped he would grow bored before then. The ship was fast, but it was still a three month one-way ticket to Titan.
"I suppose you won't be sleeping here," said the Boss, calm and collected.
"No," Dr. Roach confirmed, staring at him absently.
"Then why are you still here? Do you want... cuddles?" he asked sarcastically with open arms.
"Can Edax reproduce with an Edax?" she wondered.
He sighed. "Questions, questions... always questions with you."
He looked away as he thought.
Then beckoned her to "Come here."
So, she crawled over and put an ear to his chest, a pleasure only because his core body temperature was a scalding 105 degrees F--another interesting quality about Edax.
Between his strong heartbeat and his rumbly voice, Dr. Roach's peripheral inner monologues and thoughts evaporated to accommodate the Boss's presence.
"Yes, but the fetus always miscarries," he said softly. "Remember what I told you about puberty? Same principle. The Edax remains in a steady state, so it refuses to adapt to new stages of life--like maturity, age, and pregnancy. All it wants to do is run the code, as is."
Roach mused, "Perhaps hormone therapy would allow the fetus to reach term."
She knew she struck a chord with him when he took a deep breath.
"There's this... Edax on Venus," he began, "works as an advisor to the United Nations. He's smart--scary smart. He's helped me on numerous occasions before he and his wife died aboard this very ship."
"Who?"
"He's had a few identities. I simply refer to him as Master Sordy. Heard of him?"
"Who hasn't," she rolled her eyes. "Basically saved humanity from starvation in 2084. Then he died in 2114 and left it all to his son, who then died in a car crash. Now his second son is running the show."
"All the same person," he put simply.
The woman lifted her head to call "Bullshit."
"Master Sordy was eaten by a rogue Edax on this very ship in 2134. We were studying it until it teamed up with another to escape our security measures. I thought my life was over as the blob took him. But, fortunately, when the Edax took his form, Master Sordy's mind was perfectly preserved. Didn't even know what happened to him. His wife was the same way."
"How is that possible?"
The Boss shrugged. "The Edax craves the strongest of wills when it goes rogue. Has a gluttony for dreams. I suppose some people have wills so potent it overtakes the creature and persists form to form. I don't think it's... sustainable, but Master Sordy and his wife have bodyjacked three times now--strategically mind you--and they appear psychologically unphased."
"Why do you tell me this?"
The Boss shook his head with bewildered admiration.
"They have an Edax daughter. There's birth records and everything! Still unsure how, but I suspect he did exactly what you suggested. Somehow made his wife hospitable. According to recent reports, his daughter hit a growth spurt five years ago, so--"
Dr. Roach finished his sentence, "He grew a human version too just for her to eat."
"Exactly," he affirmed.
"Sounds like a loose end."
He shook his head. "Untouchable. Anyone who can attest to the filicides are already dead, and going public with the rogues would destroy my corporation."
"I see," an unbothered Dr. Roach mumbled.
With a pat on the butt to annoy her, he asked, "Any more questions?"
"No," she replied, not realizing she had overstayed her welcome.
"Tired?"
"No," she said again.
The Boss thought of ways to nicely evict her, but found himself also wide awake.
"How about we," he suggested, "go for a walk and see some of our resident rogues?"
"Maybe if you actually spank me like you mean it and make that question a demand, Boss," she ordered, referring to the lewd actions of their evening together.
He shut his eyes to process her honest idea of a joke. "Oh my god, Roach."
Then he peeled her heat-leeching body off himself and tossed her away.
She called out to her savior as he walked to his spacious closet to dress.
"Hey!" she wailed. "Spank me! Why won't you spank me? Spank me! Please?!"
She looked up to the ceiling with a grin as she listened for suppressed man-giggles, which indeed were emanating from the hybrid monster.
Desperation dripped from her squeaky vocal cords.
"Can't you hear me?! I said spank me! Don't you want to spank me? Spank me! Spank me! Spank me! Spank--"
"Stop!" the Boss came out with evil glittering eyes, doubled over and exasperated, half inside a button up shirt. "Get your ass..."
Roach burst at the sight of him trying to be mad at her through his stupid laughter.
"I'm sorry..." she cried hoarsely, then snorted.
"...back into those slacks! Okay?!"
More intoxicated laughter between them.
"My god!" he exclaimed once more and then hid away from her snorting face.
She calmed down enough to breathe, but not enough to hold her tongue as she dressed herself.
"HOW IS THIS BITCH SUPPOSED TO GO FOR A WALK WITHOUT HER LEASH?!"
"SHUT UP!!!"
*****
The Boss and Dr. Roach entered the bird cage. Night shift required only two engineers on site, who were illuminated by the glow of monitors as they typed.
They glanced briefly at the pair and quickly resumed their duties.
But then a noise, a rattling of coins, the scraping of quickly approaching claws...
Dr. Roach scanned the dark and shadowy area, anticipating and fearful of the furry homing missile as its echoes masked its true location.
"Boss!" the thing pounced over the stairway railing above and landed right in the Boss's arms.
"Jesus Christ," Roach swore, still cringing away like the Dog was trying to attack her.
The Boss immediately began to coo and shower her with affections, telling her how cute and soft she was as he held and nuzzled her.
The awkwardness finally materialized and left them all staring at one another.
"Pet me!" the Dog demanded of Roach.
"Pet me, pet me, pet me," mocked the Boss with a taunting smile.
"That's not funny," Roach scolded him.
"What did I miss?" the Dog asked, then her ears perked. "Wait a second..."
After a few sniffs, she realized what it was and became upset.
"Oh! You..." the Dog punched her carrier's shoulder "...pig! Put me down!"
With an apologetic expression, he threw her up in the air.
The agile thing landed with grace and ease on her two rear paws while folding her arms in contempt.
"You broke your one rule," the Dog snarled at him.
Dr. Roach was again bewildered by the hybrid, as one of the primary reasons for their illegality was their lack of human intelligence. They were bred for looks, not for brains, and even if some quack geneticist tried, brain would sooner leak from their ears than compact into their animal braincases.
Out of turn and out of place, Roach asked the Boss, "Just how intelligent is she?"
"Smart enough to know you're a fucking problem!" the canine barked.
The Boss broadened his shoulders and warned the Dog to "Heel."
"No!" she stamped her foot. "No. Women. Under. Thirty."
The reiteration of the mysterious rule popped Roach's brow.
"It's strictly business," he parried.
Finally on the same page, the young doctor added, "And I'm lesbian, so."
The rage-filled furball opened her maw to say more, but grimaced and held her tongue.
"Heel," the Boss gave the command again, gentler this time.
"God, fine," the defeated thing surrendered, sulking as she walked to his side.
"Good girl," he returned with a pat on her head. "We're going to go talk to the rogues. Want to come?"
"Sure, whatever," the Dog muttered.
Even Roach, wanting answers about the drama between them, knew not to test her with questions.
"This way," the Boss directed them, and they ascended the staircase.
The young doctor broke their silence on the way up. "So, how many do you have?"
"Five," he answered, then snapped his fingers.
The Dog ran ahead and disappeared, perhaps to fetch something.
"Not many," Roach remarked.
"Whatever makes an Edax clone go rogue must be rare, or multivariate. We haven't found any commonality between their histories."
"What--"
The man turned abruptly and gestured to a black, glassy wall.
"This is Tom," he introduced it.
"I don't--"
The Dog's collar jingled as she came back, holding pairs of glasses, one of which she gave to Roach.
"No one can go into their rooms," the Boss explained. "And some have disturbing habits. It's a polarized one-way mirror, you see, so we can't see what we don't want to and they can have some privacy."
Then he banged on the glass. "You good, Tom?"
"Yeah," replied a muffled voice from beyond.
They all put on their glasses and stared into the void.
The room was put together and orderly. There was a bed. And a computer. And screens for walls which displayed a city skyline under a full moon. On the ground was an unfinished chess board.
In the middle of it was Tom, sitting in a swivel chair, studying the trio.
His sneering voice crackled through their eyeglass frames.
"For me?" he asked the Boss after eyeing the young doctor.
"No."
"For you, then," the rogue teased with a knowing smile.
The Edai stared each other down.
Tom was first to break. "Shame. Imagine it, the mind and secrets of Elizabeth Roach..."
"You know me?"
Tom's smile grew sickly. "As damned as I am, I still find my condition curious. Hard to read up on genetics without coming across your libraries and datasets. Not to mention your crimes--"
The Boss coughed and reclaimed the floor.
"Tom is a... corporate asset of sorts," he told Roach. "The government has a contract with Edax Corp as a matter of planetary security. As far as they are aware, they send us terrorists, we clone them, copy over their consciousnesses, and send the originals back while we torture their clones for information. Keeps up ethical appearances, see?"
The Edax CEO continued: "As for reality, we feed the originals to Tom, he becomes them, tells us their secrets, and we deliver the information and the new clone back to the government. Tom has bodyjacked seventeen times with minimal personality loss. He was on death row forty years ago for a series of murders. Donated his body to science after getting his lethal injection. One of our first successful Edax replications from a cadaver. Natural born killer. Enjoys it."
"You flatter me, really," Tom blushed.
"What's it like to sift through memories?" Roach asked the psychopath.
Pleasantly surprised by the question, he answered, "A battle. Memories fade like dreams once consumed and the residual awareness is reluctant to share them. This is the only occupation I've had where I get to kill a person twice."
"Lucky you," murmured the Dog.
"It's your move, by the way," Tom mentioned and nodded to the chess board.
"I'll stop by tomorrow," she promised.
"You better. Seems you have competition now," the killer winked.
"Pig," the Dog called him.
His calm demeanor cracked and crumbled beneath the weight of his starved perversion.
"Oh, come on, Boss!" Tom begged. "Clone one of them--both of them."
"We're going now," the Boss sighed, and took his glasses off.
Dr. Roach followed suit, cutting off the rogue's desperate cries for toys to play with.
A fifth way around the circle was another black wall.
He didn't bother to knock and put on the lenses.
Huddled in the corner of the room was a glowing blob.
"Known lovingly as Bob the Blob, he has a body count of a hundred and twenty. He no longer retains human form or consciousness when we feed him, but instead becomes a writhing ball of horrors. He is what all rogues look forward to if they consume too much. Every transformation appears to take a toll on Edax's ability to reorganize itself."
"Huh," was all Roach could say.
"Yup. Moving on."
The Boss led them to the next room, where he knocked.
"Presentable?"
"To him that knocketh it shall be opened," said a man.
The glasses went on and a priest was revealed. About his room were texts, Christian imagery, and transcriptions the priest drew on easels.
"Far too young to be standing next to the Devil himself," the priest said to Roach.
"I've earned it," the young doctor played along.
He shook his head sadly. "My soul shall weep in secret places for your pride."
Unsure about his meaning, Roach looked to the Boss.
"Archbishop Urban here is responsible for twenty-two Edax executions," the Boss disclosed. "Thinks I intend to open the gates of Hell. Only fitting he became the very thing he hated after foolishly torturing and experimenting on my products."
The bishop prophesied: "You disgrace God's design by making vessels for demons to possess. It will not stand. I sense your rule is coming to an end."
The Boss shrugged. "I stopped arguing with him a long time ago. He's rather hopeless."
"I see," Roach muttered.
The holyman was unfazed by the insult and instead made an inquiry: "I feel the ship moving. Where are you taking us?"
"Titan," he answered.
Urban immediately went deep into thought and whispered, "Deus vult."
The three left him to greet the next prisoner.
"Of all the rogues, you should be most cautious of viewing this one," the Boss warned.
"Why--"
"WHY'S THAT, BOSS?!" a collection of shrill, adolescent voices shrieked behind the wall.
He dodged the question with another question, "Are you decent?"
"Yup," replied one.
"Yup two," replied another.
"Yup three," replied the last.
"Is he telling the truth, Dog?" he asked.
"Why am I the one who has to check?" she complained but took a glance anyway.
"Yeah, he's fine."
The glasses revealed a pink room with pink decorations and pink carpet. Dolls were strewn around the room along with glittery and flittery things. Perched about it were three little girls keeping themselves occupied with colored pencils and books.
"Who are you calling 'he'?" grumbled one.
"Doggy!" shouted another at the sight of the Dog, who then rushed to the glass and put a hand on it. "When are you going to come play with us, neighbor?"
"Fuck off," the furball growled, which only made them all giggle.
"Triplets...?" Roach guessed.
The Boss frowned. "Of a kind. The transformation process requires energy, the same which makes them glow, and they get that energy from living matter. Within a margin of error, an Edax can tune itself to conserve or burn excess energy depending on what it's trying to consume. However, if the size difference is too large between the Edax and its victim, the transformation will either be incomplete or..."
He gestured to the triplets.
"...the bigger Edax has so much energy left over it resorts to making duplicates. Jack--"
"Jill!" they cried.
"Whatever," the Boss waved them away, "was a senator. If I had known he was also a pedophile, I wouldn't have let him apply for an Edax clone."
The girl closest to Roach clasped her hands and made a burlesque out of innocence.
"Oopsies," she said cutely.
The triplets showed no interest in Roach, so she figured they were the most apathetic of the rogues.
"Must be heaven," the young doctor speculated.
That earned her a look from all eyes around.
Whatever thing the triplets were before smiled through their eyes. Something intoxicated and evil. Hedonism incarnate.
"You have no idea," said one.
"Come by later if you want to see," said another.
"Don't be shy," said the last.
Roach, confronted with the infernal possibility of immortals bathing in meaningless, inconsequential sin, unpunished by nature, God, or man as they celebrated their unearned and unnatural existence, felt such sick jealousy and frustration it set righteous wrath aflame within her.
"Shouldn't they... be killed?" Roach wondered. "Why are you keeping them?"
"The day you find a cure is the day I push him out the airlock," the Boss challenged her.
Then the trio rushed away from the triplets as they noisily chanted, "No cure! No cure!"
The circle was finally finished.
"Last, but not least," he murmured.
The last cell had no black, glassy wall. It was open for all to see, including a hollow sphere hanging from the ceiling, a treadmill, and a punching bag, but no occupant could be found.
"Where..." Roach whispered with suspense.
Then, the Dog walked in and crawled into the spherical enclosure, where she twisted around and rested her head on her front paws.
"It's been a long night," the Dog yawned to the pair. "Close the door, would you?"
The Boss pulled out a small remote and tapped a button.
Slowly, the black glass came down and sealed the fifth rogue in her cell.