Freedom, Freedom
Fandom: The Outer Limits, 'In Our Own Image'
Category/Rated: E = Everyone
Year/Length: 1880 words
Disclaimer: The Mac 27 belongs to Innobotics, and I have long felt that he should be free.
Author's Notes: Thanks to dossier for the lyrics. There's an NLC in here, and it should become plain which one in the course of the story. I think that this is a starting place for a continuing story. I can see a continuing story line. The First NickZone Lyric Wheel had a theme of Journeys. My song follows the story.
Beta: No Beta. All errors, typos and stupidities are mine.
The creature lurched down the street, ignoring the turned heads of shoppers hurrying home as it began to rain. He looked a little different – his eyes seemed to stare beyond them, and from time to time he stumbled, once falling to his knees in the wetness that pooled on the uneven paving flags, and rising to display dark, muddy patches on the knees of the dirty, brown, utilitarian garment that he wore.
The sky had blackened; it lay like lead against the rooftops, its unwelcome gift of water spraying down in cold, fierce gouts. The man, soaking now as the downpour began in earnest, seemed to stagger, paused for a moment, a corolla of blue, flickering lights showing around him momentarily, and looked around himself as though desperate for refuge.
Nobody stopped. People looked at him, winced, his large, sturdy frame apparently intimidating as he stood swaying in the middle of the sidewalk. The water silvered his dark hair, poured over skin that appeared to have been varnished, and saturated the coverall he wore, and still he stood, raising his hands now in a gesture that asked for help from someone, anyone.
"I need… to find a place."
His voice was husky, and caused two women, running clumsily on their high heels, to stop and cross the road hastily.
"I need…" He had begun to speak again when the blackness above was hacked apart by a sizzling fork of brilliant blue, his voice drowned by a roaring roll of sound as the sky shrieked a thunderous protest.
There was a moment's pause, the scent of ozone heavy in the air, and again the play of lickering blue light shone around the poor creature standing lost on the sidewalk. There was another rumbling crash, and his short hair rose to stand about his head like an unlikely puffball, before there was a flash, and he was skewered by a carelessly tossed bolt of lightning.
He dropped to his knees again, but this time remained there, illuminated in the ghastly radiance of the lightning bolt, his torso rigid as he remained there pinioned in crackling light. A man who had been hurrying through the driving rain, using his umbrella as a weapon as he thrust his way homeward, stopped short, watching with horror as the wisps of smoke curled from scorched fabric, and blue light danced before his eyes.
"Are you… are you all right, sir?" He had lowered his umbrella in a reflexive action as if to ward off the bolt from striking him too. "My God."
He took a further step forward as the strong scent of burning insulation rose through the rain, and the stricken figure slumped forward, a strange, ululating moan emerging from between blackened lips.
"Oh, God! Oh, no." The young man dropped his umbrella onto the sidewalk as he hurried to aid the other. It seemed impossible that the poor creature still lived after what had just happened, but as he placed his hands on the shuddering body beneath the charred cloth, it turned a strangely contorted face to his.
"What?" said the victim. "What? What?"
"Hush. You've been badly burned." His rescuer began to tug him over to the shelter of a doorway and out of the rain. "We need to get you into shelter. Come on."
The body seemed curiously heavy, resisting his attempts to pull him into the dry store entry, and when the well-meaning man dragged harder on him, he toppled over to lie shaking in a pool of water. "What?" said the victim again.
"Jesus!" fumbling through his pockets for his cell phone, the young man gave up trying to lift him and dialed for the emergency services, gritting out that he needed an ambulance, that a man had been struck by lightning right there on main street. He was just giving the address, when the man suddenly roused himself, pushing himself to his hands and knees with jittering, jerky movements.
"Come on, buddy. We've got to get you out of the rain."
Eyes that held no humanity turned to survey him at last. "What?"
A hand reached to grip his forearm, clamping tight as a band of iron around it, and the young man gasped. "No, please, don't. That hurts."
For a moment, he felt the pressure tighten until the bones bent beneath crushed flesh, and then the other seemed to understand, for he released him, pawing clumsily at his raincoat with peculiarly heavy fingers until the fabric shredded beneath his hand. "What?"
"I'm William," murmured the man, wondering if that was what he was being asked. "I've called for the paramedics, but... but we need to get you out of the storm."
The other seemed to understand that, and began to move with William, allowing himself to be led, stiff-gaited, to the shelter of the store doorway, where he remained, standing motionless, his peculiar, pupil blackened eyes fixed on something in a dimension that only he could see.
Now that they were out of the rain, William could see that there were strange things about the creature he'd rescued. The hair at the back of the being's head had burned away, and the skin beneath it was blackened, had peeled back from the bone beneath – only it wasn't bone; sickened, he could see the glint of metal, and one pulsing wire that ran across it from one side of the wound to the other. It was a sight that made him feel momentarily weak and dizzy. Sinking down to sit on his heels, he pinched his nose and held his head forward as he fought off the shock and nausea that had washed him. "What the hell are you? You're not human, are you?"
"What?" The voice was harsh, the unseeing eyes widened in panic. "What? What?" Slowly, ponderously, the creature began to lumber away, picking up speed until he had achieved an ungainly jog.
Sirens in the distance heralded the arrival of the fire truck, followed closely by the paramedics. "Where is he?" The fireman, a tall, older gentleman clad in yellow waterproofs, rushed to William's side. "You okay, bud? You were hit?"
"Not me… He's gone… he ran off that way." William raised a shaky finger to point, and the fireman turned to head back to his truck. "Wait, you need to know something. He wasn't… I think he wasn't human."
"Say what?" The fireman swung around, his _expression that of annoyance. Behind him, a paramedic tittered.
"I mean…" His voice faltered. "He had metal in his head. I saw it, where the scalp was burnt off."
"Jesus Christ." The resuscitation crew scrambled for their vehicle again, and the man was yelling, "That way," even as they gunned the engine, leaving William to stand and look after them, confused and more than a little scared.
Lights and sound that meant nothing swirled in his eyes. Dislocated sensations imploded in his brain, and he knew that he had to reach safety so that he could repair himself. The water that fell on him was shorting out his language centers, and he was painfully aware that he could no longer understand, no longer communicate with the humans that surrounded him. That had to change, or he would be discovered, for sure.
He heard clanging and howling at his back, and tried to accelerate his pace, failing, slipping on the slick sidewalk and crashing to the ground with a despairing wail. Behind him, the firetruck drew up.
"There he is." Someone indicated his stiff figure that lay prone on the wet pavement. He flailed, attempting, without success, to rise. "It's okay, buddy. Don't move. We've got you."
"What?" The sound was desolate. He turned his head from side to side, closing his eyes against the confusion of images that assailed it. His voice caught, and a strange grinding sound emerged from his mouth.
"Oh, my God, this is one of those things that got out." The paramedic had knelt beside him, and now he rose to his feet. One of the robot things. Call Innobotics; this thing's dangerous."
Most of the words had washed over him, leaving him still uncomprehending, but the name ‘Innobotics' had caught his attention, and he was suddenly heaving himself upright, struggling to free himself from the surrounding humans, some of whom were screaming now.
"What?" He shook his head, trying to shake the words loose again, but nothing would come but for that single, simple, stupid word." Turning, he fled.
"Fuck it! He's getting away." The shouting followed him, filling him with dread. He looked around, desperate for a hiding place, somewhere where he could begin the repairs that he so desperately needed. His pace was picking up, and he began to realize that he'd run back the way he'd come earlier. The store front where the kind young man had taken him was right there, and as he ran on, striving desperately to make ground before the emergency vehicles managed to turn around, he saw the youngster himself ahead of him.
William had re-claimed his umbrella, and was now making his way along the street as the street lamps came on.
"What?"
He called out, hoping that his erstwhile rescuer would hear, would wait, would be kind, or at least would give him some idea of what he could do now, where he would go. Ahead of him, William turned the corner.
For a moment, he slowed, confused, but then he turned after William, following him, gaining on him, his legs settling into a long, smooth lope that told him that already his systems were beginning to regenerate. He ran, spattering the puddles, soaking his already drenched coverall, although he didn't feel it.
"What?"
"Oh, my God, it's you. You're the one that was hit." William backed away, looking at him as if he saw the desperation inside him, but wasn't sure how to handle the knowledge. After a moment or two of indecision, he suddenly seemed to make up his mind. "You ran away. Why did you run?" he asked.
"What?" He shrugged, trying his best to convey to William that he understood him, even though his traitor tongue would only form that single, pointless word. He indicated his mouth, frustration written on his face as he tried hopelessly to say something else, and managing only a strangled, "What?" No one can understand a word that I say. The thought made him want to give up after all his efforts to stay free.
As he spoke, the sirens suddenly wailed close by, and the two emergency vehicles raced past the end of the street. "Come on," said William. "This way."
The two of them began to run, the dusk and the rain causing them to appear ghostlike. another turn. An alleyway, and then, mercifully, the shelter of a building – a home. This was someone's home.
"You can stay here for now. How can we get you repaired?" His savior pushed open a room, showed him into it, and his hopes suddenly swelled as he noted the workbench and the tools.
"What?" he murmured, huskily, a smile spreading over his features. He touched the face of the young man, and sank down onto the floor. Now he could begin to recover.
Breakdown, Alan Parsons Project
I breakdown in the middle and lose my thread
No one can understand a word that I say
When I break down just a little and lose my head
Nothing I try to do can work the same way
Any time it happened I'd get over it
With a little help from all my friends
Anybody else could see what's wrong with me
But they walk away and just pretend
When I breakdown
I breakdown in the middle and lose my thread
No one can understand a word that I say
When I break down just a little and lose my head
Nothing I try to do can work the same way
Where are all the friends who used to talk to me
All they ever told me was good news
People that I've never seen are kind to me
Is it any wonder I'm confused
When I break down, when I break down
Freedom, freedom, we will not obey
Freedom, freedom, take the wall away
Freedom, freedom, we will not obey
Freedom, freedom, take them all away
| Back to My Stories –|– Email Dr. Ruthless |
