Chapter 30

Amy was trapped, surrounded, enclosed on all sides. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She grasped ineffectually at her power, her muddled mind laboriously sorting through the data it supplied. Her cage shook, some great blow resonating through the walls, the sounds of battle and screaming that Amy tried desperately to push away. It was flesh surrounding her, the thing that imprisoned her was alive, and she could escape if only she could...

She could...

escape and get help! But daddy said to stay in the cupboard, to hide while he took care of things, hide away despite the screaming, the sounds of shattered furniture and broken glass, stay hidden and quiet no matter what she hears or sees. Stay hidden even as the walls turn to flesh, pulsing as they peel apart, blood spilling forth drenching her nightdress. Stay quiet even as the door splits open, a gaping maw ripping free from the wood, a sinuous barbed tongue lancing towards her waist and dragging her into the darkness and at last she screams as the cabinet opens-

And there's her daddy, impaled on a sword of light, surrounded by shadows, but she can't see his face,she can't remember his face, whereishisface!?

"If only you hid better." a shadow taunted. "If only you stayed quiet, if only you'd followed the simple rules he set for you."

And the sword of light was at her daddy's neck, scorching away flesh and bone and it's her fault, all her fault, he was protecting her and she couldn't hide. She hated them, the monsters who took him! She wanted to crush them, to break them, to devour them! She leapt towards them, screaming, burying them beneath her bulk, tearing into them with a dozen hungry mouths, ripping them apart with sharp claws, drawing them into herself with striking tentacles and-

and she kicked and screamed and cried but the shadows dragged her away, away away away-

No...

No!

And then she was Amy Dallon again, helpless Amy, but she could see again; see the monster that surrounded her, sense the cells within. She watched bodies appear within the fleshy prison, watched samples being taken from their flesh, a billion points of data conveyed with a single taste. She saw life formed, mass pulled into being from some infinite void, shaped into sentience in mere moments, an act so beautiful and terrible that Amy wept in joy and horror both. It offended her on a primal level. They were wrong, that was all she could understand. Everything about them was wrong, and she had to stop it. She reached out, searching for that familiar feeling of power, of control, of dominion she held over flesh-

But her mind was so... slow, like quicksand, like wading through mud, like she was drunkenly stumbling through the dark after being violently concussed, like an-

"iron bar passed all the way through the left side of his brain and out the top of his skull. Phineas Gage survived this accident, but suffered from so profound a personality change that his friends remarked that he was 'no longer Gage'."

The health professor eyed the classroom. "The human brain is not perfectly understood. The exact causes of Mr. Gage's changes can only be guessed at, but I implore you all to understand this: the brain is a fragile thing, and you have no right to tamper with it."

The teacher glared at Amy, his face twisting into vicious smile. "Any time you alter someone's brain, you've killed them a dozen times. Every mistake makes you a murderer, every change is a cruelty for those they leave behind. You will leave corpses in your wake, dead bodies piloted around by artificial minds." 

Amy reeled back in her seat, stuttering denials: she would never- she could never-

The smile widened, sharpened, a crescent moon hanging on his face. "People will see you as their saviour, their perfect healer, even as you snuff out their minds. Their families will thank you as they lead a stranger home, a meat suit filled by a monster of your own creation."

One by one, the surrounding students slumped. They dropped to the ground like ragdolls, puppets whose strings were cut, a boneless pile. 

One by one they stood again, changed, different in a way that only Amy could see. They re-took their seats, smiling robotically, staring forward, with none the wiser to the abomination-

The bell rang, dismissing the class, and Amy fled in horror. Why was she running? Was it... the man? The story horrified her, she realized. How easy it was to change someone, to kill someone. How did his family feel, Amy wondered, when they realized the truth. When they realized that he had died in that accident, and the man standing before them was a stranger.

And the man himself? 

To have to live like that, did he know how much he had changed? Was there anything even left of who he had been? Did he even care?

And if she had been there, could she have fixed it?

No. 

That way lies madness.

She couldn't think like that. She wasn't there, it wasn't her fault. And even if she was there, even if she tried and fixed him, it would not be him, would it? A perfect copy was still a copy. No one else would know, but she would. 

She would know.

And that thought was terrifying.

No, she wouldn't, couldn't risk it. Brains were off limits. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many ways for her to kill someone, and nobody would know it but her. Nobody should have that kind of power, especially not her.

Brains were off limits, that would be her rule.

And she wouldn't break it for anything.

Not even now, as the horrible things were formed within feet of her. Not even now, as their brains were born flawed, deliberately hampered, shorn apart like Gage's. They had no capacity for love or laughter or happiness. They lacked the equipment to process positive emotions, lacked the ability to form emotional bonds with others, lacked the necessary requirements to even be called human. They were nightmarish things that knew only how to hurt.

They were monsters, and Amy hated them!

More and more formed, an endless loop, a continuous system.

She wanted it to stop.

Stop!

STOP!

STOP!

Every ounce of her will was devoted to stopping the process, to ending this horror. She couldn't stand it anymore, to sit and watch. She could stop it, she would stop it.

She could save lives-

every time she went to the hospital! It was such a wonderful thing. She could do so much with just a touch, she could help so many people, change so many fates! When she was done they would laugh and cry and hug her, and their happiness would become a nearly physical force. A drug, almost, if joy could be called such a thing. She was high on life!

And every time she came home Carol would give her an approving nod, an occasional smile, and warmth would blossom in her chest.

It was hard, and tiring, but she could keep it up. She could keep going even when the smiles stopped coming, when the nods became curt, when the warm glow of approval faded into cold tedium.

She could keep going when her miracles became mundane, when the joy of others' was tiresome, when her life became lifeless.

She was saving people.

Thus, she could only continue.

And she continued, through the visions and pain, through muffled roars and screams, throughout it all, Amy Dallon persevered.

She had lived this way for two years.

This? This was nothing.

She didn't notice when the cage stopped shaking. She didn't notice when the noise died down. She didn't notice when the monster she inhabited regained its senses. She didn't notice the girl's anger turn to fear turn to despair.

She focused only on her power, and what she demanded from it. No more life was formed, no more horrors were created. It took all her effort, all her focus to accomplish this self-appointed task.

And then her control was ripped away.

A force seized her cage, something inviolable, inexorable. The muscles surrounding her writhed, screamed, as their nerves lit up like Christmas trees. It was agony, pure and simple, forced upon her captor by something far more powerful than Amy could comprehend.

And then a single command was given, unspoken but clear.

The fleshy prison popped like a soap bubble, a quadrillion cells turning on themselves and self-destructing. With a wet splat, Amy fell to the ground.

Suddenly she could breathe again, desperate gasps and heaves, gagging on the stench of viscera that surrounded her. Suddenly she could feel again, warm and wet and covered in blood. Suddenly she could think again, the fog of her imprisonment slowly fading away.

An arm was looped under her shoulder, and she was hauled shakily to her feet. She was somewhere underground, or maybe in a warehouse, surrounded by steel and concrete and a high ceiling. Fences surrounded her, twenty feet in each direction and covered by a shimmering opaque field.

The floor was covered in blood.

There were bodies too, nearly a dozen, splayed out on the ground. People rushed past her, unknown capes and PRT personnel holding tinker-tech devices, running scans and speaking in a confused jumble.

One of the bodies was missing everything past her belly; an older girl, sobbing in pain or terror or grief. She couldn't possibly live long like that. Another cape loomed over her, short yet utterly imposing, whispering something into the girl's ear, but Amy was dragged from the room before she could make sense of what was happening.

Her... guide? was a blonde girl, a cape, dressed in a form-fitting bodysuit and a simple domino mask. Amy was led up some stairs and to a shower stall, the blonde speaking softly, giving quiet reassurances as Amy washed the guts out of her hair. There were words there, and in the future she might even recall them, but all Amy wanted now was sleep.

A change of clothes appeared from somewhere, warm and snug, and Amy robotically put them on. More gentle words, stored away to process later, and a card that was placed in her pocket. Another winding passage and Amy was blinking in the sunlight. A moment later a familiar presence stood in front of her.

"I'm glad you are all right." Carol Dallon said stoically, eyeing Amy over.

"You're not injured? Good." Carol took a step forward, glancing around. Amy vaguely noticed men with cameras, watching expectantly. "My d- Your sister was hurt. Let's get you to her."

Carol wrapped her in a hug, awkward and stiff and formal.

And cold.