Part 6
"What do you mean 'can a boomer join a cult?'" I asked Wong with as
much calmness as I could muster. Shit, I knew the answer, but Wong
certainly hadn't been around when I figured it out. And Todo told me in
no uncertain terms what would happen to me if anyone found out.
"Maybe we've been looking at this the wrong way," Wong said, furiously
writing on his PDA. "Research boomers have a great deal of intellectual
freedom, correct?"
"Yes. They have Mark IV neural networks that are capable of operating
at human levels or beyond. I still don't see where you're going with
this. Do you think the research boomer is part of one of Mitchell's
cults?" I was mulling over the thought some more. Could this be a repeat
of the Starfall incident?
"Doesn't that explain what he's doing over here? We know there's some
strange stuff going on in Arkham, otherwise Mitchell wouldn't have been
there for so long. We know his specialty is Cult activity and I'm
certain there's a connection between him and the boomer." Wong was
talking fast, his features animated in the way they only where when he
thought he was on to something. "Say the boomer was working in that
university in Arkham and the people Mitchell was chasing got a hold of
it. Once somebody got a few pieces together they'd send Mitchell out
here since this sort of thing is his specialty."
I was silent for a moment, thinking about his suggestion. The light
turned green and I drove, marveling at Wong's mind. It did make a
certain bit of sense. The boomer could've been turned into a cultist�but
I couldn't get all the pieces to fit. The rogues that crashed those
years ago would never have raided a bookstore. And they had started
their own cult. Try as I might I couldn't see a boomer dancing and
chanting around a fire with a bunch of guys in robes.
"Dial Nene," I told the computer in the car. "Home number."
"What are you up to?"
"Boomer's are walking computers, right? Who knows more than Nene about
computers? She'll be able to tell us if we're shooting in the dark
here."
The phone rang a few times before Nene answered. Her face popped up on
the little screen at the center of the dash. She was wrapped in a towel,
obviously just out of the shower. "Oh, its you, Leon-chan. I should've
finished my shower."
"Sorry to interrupt, Nene-chan," Wong said diplomatically. "I think
we've got a major breakthrough about the case and we were hoping to
consult with you."
"Oh, that's okay." She seemed pleased with herself at becoming such an
integral part of the case. "What do you need?"
"Can a boomer join a cult?" I asked, pulling off to the side.
"Huh?"
"What Detective McNichols means is can a research boomer like the one
we're tracking become brainwashed?"
"Nope," Nene said, sounding infinitely confident. "Neural networks like
the one in our buddy are built with a integral bullshit detector. They
evaluate data based on empirical grounds."
"How does that rule out a cult boomer?" I asked, feeling a little put
off by the ease with which she brushed Wong's idea aside.
"Cults are based around isolating individuals from society and forging
close ties with the other cult members. Usually it involves appealing to
some kind of mystical hogwash that would get bounced by the boomer's
cognitive processes."
"I'm not sure I understand," Wong said. "You could fool the boomer
somehow�"
"Sorry Wong," Nene said. "There'd have to be some shred of objectively
verifiable data involved if you were going to convince the boomer. They
don't have any sense of spirituality to trick and they act like
uber-scientists if you fool around with them. Just like AI sysops�" she
muttered.
"Well, thanks," Wong said, a little dejected. "Finish your shower."
"Thanks, Nene," I said. To be honest, I felt a little relieved that I
didn't have to tell the Chief that I was chasing a cult boomer. Again.
"No problem, Detective Wong and Leon-chan!" she giggled as the line
closed.
"Damn girl," I said as I pulled back into traffic. "Seemed like a good
idea at the time."
"This case doesn't make a bit of sense," Wong complained. "Any time I
come up with some kind of rational explanation all kinds of holes get
shot in it."
"I'd hardly call the cultist boomer a rational theory. It doesn't
explain why the boomer came to Japan or how it's making these rogues."
"But it explained Mitchell."
"This isn't a case about Mitchell," I began, starting to get a little
annoyed at Wong's one track mind. Before I could continue the police
band exploded into combat reports.
"Sector 7! Report!" one of the Tactical Operators was demanding. Wong
was already looking up the data reports streaming in on the car's
computer.
"Back at Kentetsu's place!" he yelled as I swung the car around. The
rain was pounding on the roof so loud the siren was muted and the car
slid through the puddles, fighting for grip. "Another one of those
rogues."
"Get the guns," I said, even though I knew they weren't going to do
anything even when we had them. I floored the pedal, amazed at the speed
I was managing on the wet roads. We rounded the corner, sliding into a
wet war-zone. The first thing I saw was Kentetsu's bookstore, or the
flaming hole in the building that had housed the old man's bookstore.
Directly in front of the burning building was the boomer.
"This one's different," Wong managed as we slid to a stop. He was
right. Where the other creatures were oddly incomplete, cobbled together
from odd machines and wondering almost aimlessly, this one stood stone
still in front of the store. It struck me as odd that this was the first
time I'd seen one of the creatures still.
It turned to face us, shambling around hundred and eighty degrees and
seemed to radiate some unearthly fear. I couldn't move as I stared at
the bulbous protrusion that could've been its head.
"Leon!" Wong yelled. "Get out!"
Wong snapped me out of whatever stupor the creature's appearance had
caused. I kicked at the door as the thing raised a pseudopod at the car.
Frantically scrambling across the wet pavement, I cleared the car just
as the entire thing shuddered and flew apart. It didn't explode like
anything I've ever seen blow up before. I've had a great deal of
experience with things going boom and they've all included fire somehow.
My squad car appeared as if all the component parts decided that there
was someplace really important to be at and they were all going
different ways.
A hunk of chassis lanced into the pavement a couple of centimeters from
my head and some shards of glass slashed through my trench coat. I dug
my revolver from my jacket, rolling behind a car. There was too much
noise for me to hear anything besides the hiss of rain on fire and the
whipping wind.
My communicator beeped as Wong called me. "You all right?" he asked as
I held the receiver to my ear.
"Just a couple of cuts," I said nonchalantly. I was looking at the deep
furrows the 'safety glass' had made in my side. "You?"
"Head hurts. What's it doing?" I poked my head up above the parked car
I was hiding behind.
"Nothing. Standing still. Where's the back up?"
"I checked. They can't airlift anything in this weather and traffic on
the overpasses is choked up." What should I have expected from a
Saturday night?
"Fuck," I said sagely. "Any units in the area?"
"Yes," Wong replied. "Us."
"Fuck," I repeated. I poked my head up again, scanning the street. The
monster had turned around and was again still. I studied its translucent
body, light from the burning building diffracting through the monster's
eerie flesh and the rain. There wasn't anything I could call a part or
component and as I raised my revolver facts from the material science
report. The only way they'd linked these creatures with the stolen
boomer parts were chemical similarities.
I pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession, watching as the bullets
passed blew through the machine with no effect. The creature shuddered
for a moment and I started grinning. My grin died as the cars on my side
of the street started to shred of their own accord. I danced back, gun
skittering the ground as the hood I had braced myself on tore apart.
Metal splinters cut my face and I backpedaled, only to fall over the
curb.
I smacked my head pretty hard, stars in my eyes. I couldn't feel the
blood, but I was pretty damn wet. As I clambered to my feet a spike of
light blinded me. I heard a terrible scream, accompanied by an
incredible roar of heated water. I blinked my eyes a few times,
stumbling around. The smell of gasoline was overpowering; I guess all
the tanks of the cars around me had emptied into the street. I guess the
only thing preventing a massive explosion was the pouring rain.
As my vision cleared I glanced up, towards what I thought was the
source of the blinding light. I noticed the rogue holding its side, a
large portion of its body seemingly losing consistency and pouring to
the floor. Behind the boomer, leaning against one of the few intact cars
remaining was Mitchell, a massive rifle held in a strained grip.
"Well that was unexpected," I muttered as I dug for my phone. "Wong," I
barked into it, but the little machine was going haywire. I threw it to
the street in disgust as the phone started beeping the Star Spangled
Banner. I heard a high pitched whine from Mitchell's general area and
squeezed my eyes shut. This blast was louder, and from my position
behind one of the shredded car hunks I could feel the blast of heat that
rolled across my face.
I popped back up, scampering for my pistol when the boomer
counterattacked. Thirty or forty percent of its body was lying in a
semisolid pool at the thing's feet. Its pained body motions ceased and I
could feel it radiating an almost visible aura of irritation. At this
point I realized I was as scared as I'd ever been in my life. Mitchell,
was one of the most stolid figures I've ever seen and I could see the
fear in his eyes from ten meters.
With incredible speed the thing covered the fifteen meters between
itself and Mitchell. With a casual movement it batted the rifle to the
ground couple of meters away. As the blocky gun slid across the pavement
it pulled a large suitcase shaped generator along with it.
"How does something that big move so fast?" I wondered aloud as the
monster slapped Mitchell to the ground. Mitchell bounced back up, hands
digging into his jacket. His hand emerged with an odd shaped hunk of
what appeared to be bone. I couldn't see it clearly, but the way
Mitchell held it made it plain he didn't relish using it.
The creature took a step back, seeming to coil in on itself and grow
more compact. Mitchell started chanting, shaking the stick in something
resembling a magician's incantation. The words he spoke were something I
could easily imagine coming from the monster and the tones they ranged
across stretched in and out of my hearing. The stick emitted a terrible
red, deeper than blood, and the monster shrank back. I could see the
waves of color crash against an invisible barrier around the boomer,
pushing the thing back.
The boomer halted its progress when my mind came awake. I glanced over
to where Mitchell's gun rested, diagnostic lights still blinking.
Mitchell's face was a study in agony, his teeth clenched and his muscles
standing out. The boomer took a slow deliberate step as I started
running towards the rifle. It seemed to notice my movements and one of
the newly compacted psuedopods lifted up in my direction. It was
advancing towards Mitchell a half step at a time when its hand burst and
a stream of something came at me.
I jumped over a fender as the tar behind me simply evaporated into gas.
Two more explosions shredded the ground behind me, and a bunch of chunks
hit the back of my head. The smell reaching my nostrils above the
gasoline odor told me that the terrible heat had burned some of my hair.
I slid past the gun on my side, snaking out a hand to grab the suitcase
shaped box on the ground. For once I was glad for the rain for the pools
of water helped me slide past one of the intact cars on Mitchell's side
of the street.
"Kill it!" Mitchell yelled, his voice strained. Easier said than done,
I thought as I looked down at the case and attached rifle. The labels
were in English and it took me a second to get used to anything but
Kanji and kana. I started looking for a trigger on the rifle, figuring
I'd start there, when a blast of energy took the car's superstructure
off.
"Fuck, fuck!" I yelled as little blobs of molten aluminum landed on my
arm. They burned right through the reinforced ballistic fabric and
started on my skin. Gritting my teeth I studied the rifle. The chrome
body was trimmed in yellow, a sure sign of a prototype. I found a firing
stud on the top of the rifle and hefted the machine onto my arm,
securing it with the makeshift harness pinned onto the gun.
Another blast tore through the engine block, and the shock knocked me
on my face. Realizing this wasn't a very good piece of cover I rolled
out and took aim. The machine beeped reassuringly and I squeezed the
trigger.
It was strangely anticlimactic when the machine emitted a much less
reassuring beep and failed to produce anything. It seemed almost comical
when I examined my position. I was prone, out of cover, without a
weapon, staring at a three-meter tall blob of destruction, with my only
ally looking dead on his feet. It got worse when the blob raised its
hand at me.
The air around me seemed to shimmer as I hammered at the buttons,
struggling for some results. My hair was standing on end and I could
feel the static building on my body. I was pretty close to pissing my
pants when the static simply died. The monster's arm went from
translucent to dark black, solidifying and peeling itself off from the
rest of the creature.
Mitchell exhaled explosively as the creature fell apart. He stumbled to
his knees and fell face first, only his breathing letting me know he was
alive. "Fuck," I muttered for the thirtieth time that day. "Jesus."
"Certainly not," Mitchell said as he flipped himself over. His chest
was heaving and the normally composed man had a look of terror and
relief on his face. "That was the closest I've ever seen�" he said
before he started pulling himself together.
I realized I forgotten something very important and I managed to
scramble unsteadily to my feet. "Wong!" I yelled. "Wong!" I looked
around starting towards the cars. "Mitchell, what the fuck was that
thing?" I asked as I heard sirens approaching. Never fails, I thought.
"A rogue boomer," he answered as he got to his feet.
"Bullshit," I said, letting some of my anger and frustration out. "I
know there's something more going on here. And I want you to tell me
what the fuck it is."
"Isn't that what we're doing here?" he shot back, some of his old
confidence reporting. I started picking through the debris by where I
thought Wong was.
"You know what that thing is and it scares you. Why? Isn't the boomer
yours? A little project you let get a out of hand?"
"What are you talking about?" Mitchell said as he started looking for
Wong with me. He was still moving gingerly, but all traces of the
emotions on his face were gone. I was trying to figure out how to
interrogate him.
"You're a specialist in cult related crimes, originally from the same
town as the research boomer. You show up in Japan before this thing
shows up and you expect me to believe you don't have anything to do with
it? Fuck you, Inspector. I've been fighting boomers for almost ten years
and none of them, ever, have been anything like that."
"He's over here," Mitchell said, changing the subject. I made it over
to where Wong laid as quickly as I could.
"Is he alright?" I asked as I looked at his still form. Mitchell was
crouching next to him, looking eerily like he did that night in Akuto's
store. I hoped none of the worry I felt was leaking into my voice.
"Alive, thanks for asking, Leon-chan," Wong said weakly, before he
started coughing. "I'm glad you really care." I lifted him up, one of
his arms over my shoulder. The ambulances were visible a block or two
away.
"As touching as this is," Mitchell began, "I'll be taking my leave of
you." He started limping away.
"I'm not done with you yet, Mitchell," I barked. To my surprise he
stopped for a moment.
"I'll tell you tomorrow, Detective. After I've had a good night's
sleep." He looked over his shoulder at us. "Besides, we've got a trap to
set tomorrow night."
"Why?" I asked. "What are we doing tomorrow night?"
"Same thing we do every night," Mitchell replied, a small smile on his
lips. "Try and capture that crazy fucking thing. Goodnight, gentlemen,"
he said with finality and he walked the opposite direction the
ambulances were coming from. I noticed him pick up the rifle and hobble
purposefully away.
"Hey Leon," Wong said as the fire trucks and ADP rapid response trucks
pulled up.
"What?"
"It stopped raining."
You know what? It started up again fifteen minutes later.
Author's Notes-
I managed to write this part in a reasonable amount of time. Great. I
think we've all realized the elseworlds elements are Cthuluoid in nature
(here I am making words up like crazy). If anyone would like to comment
on my interpretations of Lovecraft's work, it's good to keep in mind
that the material I've used for research is primarily Lovecraft's own
fiction. I've managed to dodge any of the other interpretations by
sticking with the short stories written by Lovecraft himself.
Unfortunately this means I'll be missing some of the additions to the
universe added by other authors, but it keeps the reading list down.
Jerico
FNORD