The Music Speaks

What stands before me is worse than anything I could have ever imagined. Even putting it into words makes me nauseous. I have never seen something as horrible as what I see currently. Unable to contain my disgust, I release my air filtration mask and let out a stream of vomit in a corner of the room. Evidently, that is not a choice I should have made. Now free to affect me, the smell permeating the air which I had forgotten about infiltrates my nostrils and causes another waterfall of regurgitation. Now that I see it, I finally understand what causes this smell.

“Abnormal bodily function detected: nausea, regurgitation

Would you like to reactivate tactical enhancement: air filtration mask”

I press the touchpad

[yes]

“Command registered – activating tactical enhancement: air filtration mask”

I am finally able to breathe once more. The only pity is that there is no such thing as a visual filtration mask showing me only what I wish to see. The scene that is incubated by these four walls is, for a lack of better words, horrible. There are people, mostly children, in every corner of the room beyond the veil, squished together like sardines in a metal can. Any semblance of life seems to have been stolen from their eyes long ago. Looking closer, it becomes obvious that not all of these people are alive. A few of them are already decomposing, skin and flesh rotting, exposing the bone. For those who are alive, the only sounds they emit, perhaps the only ones they are able to, are soft, pained moans or incoherent gibberish. As such, calling them ‘alive’ might be an overstatement. Approaching them any further may have a long-standing impact on my sanity, yet I must. While I know that their physical condition is a clear indication of heavy malnourishment and neglect, making their chances of survival slim, if they can be saved, I must do everything I can to save them

I pull myself together, step forward and approach a tall man sitting down, wearing brown rags serving as clothes. An overgrown black beard with streaks of grey covers his face. His unkempt hair drapes over his eyes, hiding their color. As I am still camouflaged, he cannot see me approaching. Though I believe that even if I wasn’t, he would still be unable to see me. I bend down to his level, press two of my fingers against his carotid artery, and search for a pulse. Fortunately, he is still alive. I then attempt to poke several areas of his body to elicit a reaction, even shaking him a bit, but he remains unresponsive. He seems to be in a strange comatose state. I once more request aid from my trusty suit. I input my intentions hoping S.O.N.G. possesses such a feature.

[scan person]

“Would you like to run a diagnostic for an individual in your vicinity?”

[yes]

“Please place your open palm in front of the person you want to diagnose, then wait.”

I follow its instructions and wait.

“Diagnostic complete. The data set is extensive. Would you prefer to request specific details rather than receiving all the information at once?”

I input a simple request.

[can heal?]

“Unfortunately, this individual cannot be healed”

[why]

“Their cells are degenerating at an accelerated rate, most likely the result of a toxin. Its effect has been deemed non-contagious and non-harmful to [enlightened] individuals. My database contains no cure for this condition.”

I then scan several others in the same room, each with the same diagnostic. Whoever put them here, did not want them to leave. Each individual is on a timer from the moment they are brought here. I am still unsure what purpose they serve, but if anything, this place is meant to be their burying ground. Another worker comes in, rolling a cart. I now finally understand what purpose it serves. They force feed the food to their captives and collect their wastes in buckets. Then, logically, the center room where only buckets go must be some sort of waste disposal place. This leaves only the first room as a mystery; I am still unsure why cardboard boxes are sent to that place.

That mystery is quickly solved. Another worker comes into the room, this one rolls a cart with the cardboard box on it. He picks up one of the corpses whose soul left this plane of existence quite some time ago, and stuffs it into the box. A gruesome sight. It doesn’t take me long to fully understand the purpose of the three rooms. Storage, Waste, Disposal. As simple as that.

In room three, my room, the humans are stored like cattle. In room two, the center room, their waste is disposed of, it is most likely built like a massive latrine, with the waste being buried deep underground. Perhaps this is to prevent the spread of infections or some other strange reason. Then, the first room, the one Sylvia is in, is meant for disposal. From the charred clothes of the workers, I suspect it to contain a large incinerator meant to efficiently dispose of bodies.

The weight of these revelations is difficult to bear. I had glimpsed into the darkness of the [enlightened] back at the Lunar Groove Lounge when they put Calliope on for auction. However, this is beyond anything I had steeled myself for before coming here. This... scene is simply too much. For now, I can keep my composure, but I do not know how long that will last. Although some part of me is glad that I was the one assigned to this room and not Ivana or Sylvia, I wish I could erase this experience from my mind.

Unsurprisingly, this mental shock forces the re-emergence of painful memories. Starting from my mother’s death to those I have killed with my own two hands. In these two weeks, I have killed three people. More than in the 18 years before that. The pale man with the melo-string and the woman who could harden her body fell under my sharpsong. The woman who wielded the accordifists had her windpipe crushed by my very knuckles, unable to utter parting words. This begs a question, am I truly any different from them? I could claim self-defense, but the fact remains, I killed them. Was I justified because they were evildoers? I do not know; perhaps I never will. These thoughts cloud my mind, threatening to cause irreparable damage to my psyche. Thankfully, before that happens, a voice resounding through my communicator snaps me back to reality.

“Alden!”

‘I-Ivana..?’

“Yes, it’s me, I don’t know if you’re still exploring your room, but we need to leave, now! Come out and join us!”

Putting the growing inner turmoil aside, I head out of the room, silently bidding farewell to all those I am unable to save, and head outside. There, I meet with Sylvia and Ivana, in front of the elevator. Thankfully, it goes up the same way it comes down. The only difference is that we seem to be in a hurry. I do not know what is happening, but there are clear looks of worry on both of their faces. Without caring for the repercussions, Sylvia forces a worker to open the elevator and we all climb inside. We reach the first floor, and I follow the two women, running through the halls at incredible speeds.

Making use of another worker, we push open the front doors. There, a fresh breeze caresses my face, I am glad to be back outside. Ivana and Sylvia do not seem to share my relief, they are staring in a certain direction. I try to identify the source of their worry, when I see Sebastian, with a gashing wound on his thigh, standing in front of a male figure wearing a long black robe. Alerted, I grab my instrument, as do my two companions, ready to join the fight. Noticing us, Sebastian speaks.

“Stand down! He’ll kill you before you can blink!”