Sindaris wills his voice to stay calm and collected, but he tries to make sure that his efforts are behind his thought-wall that block his moods. For an instant he can see the dark hilarity in having to layer his own mind. Realistically, these people probably already know who he is. Why they haven’t killed him is a mystery and he’s not interested in sending them into frenzy. “I’m not hungry.”
Although the others don’t move there is a wave of tension that momentarily passes over them all. The woman speaks again. “We know who you are, we can hear them talking.”
Sindaris clenches his jaw and almost loses control of his bladder.
“We won’t hurt you,” says the woman.
Sindaris’ vision finally clears and he can see the woman perfectly with his new eyes despite the darkness. “Who are you?”
“I was Sarah Jameson. The others here have trouble talking but I can hear what they want to say,” she says tapping the side of her head.
Sindaris is having a horrible time keeping up with everything that’s happening to, and around, him. “What’s going on?” he manages with a resigned huff.
Sarah’s eyes roll up for just a moment. “The… contaminants… are being driven by something other than what we are now. I’ve heard it talk.”
Contaminant sounds like a military phrase, are soldiers infected too?
“So have I,” says Sindaris.
“We went to the first gathering.”
Conclave? “Gathering…”
Sarah nods. “Conclave… yes… that is what it was.”
Sindaris feels a lump in his throat. He didn’t picture an image of a congress, he only thought the word. “You can read my—”
“We’re not perfect, they say. We’re different. We have different talents. I can hear contaminant minds. You are a contaminant but you’re as different from us as we are from them.”
Despite his efforts he finds he cannot read their minds. “Why?”
“You can function on your own, we cannot. If I go too far from these others here I become… less… able,” Sarah looks to the others. All their eyes are closed, their bodies completely stationary. “They are concentrating so I can talk to you.”
“Are you becoming…” he trails off hoping he doesn’t come across as insulting. “Less intelligent?”
“Not since we reached this point. We are not perfect.”
Sindaris focuses on her eyes and can see that they’re brown shot through with spokes of violet and she has the makings of a vertical pupil but it’s malformed. “Not perfect?”
“Anything that isn’t obedient is not perfect. You are about as imperfect as our kind can possibly be. As far as we can hear, you are one of the only living ones left like you.”
Sindaris frowns, “Only ones left?”
“There were nearly twenty until last night.”
“What happened to them?” Sindaris shakes his head trying to understand how he isn’t catching any clues from the others’ minds.
Sarah picks up on his thought. “When the controller sends them out, it has a resounding influence over their minds. They see what it wants them to. You may have only seen them eat with no reason to think any more of it.”
Sindaris’ dual pupils fluctuate as he takes in what Sarah says. “You’re interpreting my thoughts just offhand?”
“Yes.”
“But what happened to them? What do you mean it only lets me see what it wants me to?”
“The other contaminants killed them. The ones they’ve found, at least. You may have only seen them eating with no other reference.”
Sindaris closes his eyes for a moment wondering how many he’d seen them eat with his own mind. How many of the ones I saw butchered were like me? Hunted. Trapped like animals.
“You said before that you went to a conclave? What was it for?” asks Sindaris.
“We saw the controller’s image through the Conduit. We think it was to put a physical form to the voice in our heads.”
“Why?”
“The contaminants are becoming more obtuse as time passes and soon enough they’ll be able to do little more than obey simple commands. Run. Kill. Stop. Things like that. A physical meeting brings reality, we think.”
Sindaris is fascinated. “What does the conduit look like?”
“God.”
Sindaris’ head jerks back slightly as if someone flicked his nose. “What?”
“The universal spirit that animates and binds all things,” she says, her expression darkening, “and it will bind the infected together.”
Sindaris wonders which one of them is talking to him through her and whether it’s the same one who’s looking at him through her eyes. “So they simply kill anyone like me?”
She nods. “And consume.”
“Why? They don’t usually eat everyone they catch.”
“The others like you were consumed to… absorb your… essence,” she says sweating. The collective mind using her body as a junction is obviously taxing.
Sindaris doesn’t want to think of himself as a walking evolve-while-you-eat target. “Does it work?”
“No.”
“Why would they think it would? Reinfection of themselves?”
“I don’t know, we can’t access the mind of the controller and the contaminants do what they’re told.”
“I’ve heard whispers of a prototype android loose in the city that could be controlling the contaminants,” says Sindaris looking at her more intently.
“It thinks it can.”
Sindaris shakes his head. “One moment, if I’m a… different strain, or some such, why can’t I reinfect the contaminants?”
“From what we’ve heard, your kind are sterile.”
Sindaris blinks twice. “You mean virally?”
“Yes.”
“So if I bleed on someone, they won’t catch it?”
“Yes.”
Sindaris can’t get his head around one thing but he buries it for the moment. “How strange.”
Sarah smiles but it’s a smile that doesn’t belong on her face. “Is that all you… can say?”
“It’s all I can think. I don’t know who else is listening. I’m trying to resist asking where we are.”
“We don’t know either.”
“Where was this conclave?”
“Blackhaven District, near to Centre-city.”
Sindaris’ magenta eyes shine. “Do they meet often?”
“Every day. Some of them never leave.”
Sindaris decides to ask the question he hid just a moment ago. “Why am I wanted dead if I’m not contagious? I’d understand if I could spread this condition to others and get numbers enough to fight back, but if I’m sterile…”
“You can still reproduce the standard way, we assume. Your children would be naturally immune and would share your mutation.”
In gunship Dead Star, on the way to Horizon Stadium, Rennin’s mind is focussed but he can’t shake a feeling of absolute euphoria that has gripped his mind like an unrelenting wonderful vice. He feels at one with the world around him and the universe as a whole. He tries to shake it off because it is so incredibly out of character. Also, considering what’s happening in the city he should feel more fearful than overwhelmed with joy for simply living. Each drawn breath is so sweet he wonders how long it’ll be before he develops a reflexive erection just from converting oxygen into carbon dioxide.
His brow furrows as he glances at his reflection, seeing his artificial eye glowing brightly back at him. His blood runs cold for an instant before being overrun with the most ironclad feeling of wellbeing he’s ever known. Something’s unnatural about this, he’s sure. He cracks his neck and bites the inside of his cheek hard trying to stem or at least interrupt whatever is giving him this bursting dam of good cheer.