Beyond the Horizon

36. Push and Pull

Nezumi had already rolled over to lay on his side again when the doctor decided to stop leering and actually come inside. The loud ka-lunk followed by a click signaled the heavy door's opening. Nezumi stared at the wall opposite as the whisper of fabric drew nearer. The man got close enough that his blaringly white lab coat intruded in the periphery of Nezumi's gaze.

          Brave to get so close.

          Or maybe just aware.

          A camera's eye glittered from the left corner of the ceiling; if the man had been watching him from afar before deigning to approach, then he must have realized that Nezumi was no longer a threat. He had barely moved from his bed except to piss and pace, and the tear tracks down his cheeks might as well have been tattoos by this point.

          Nezumi had no control, and no will but to sit and be quiet until the numbness in his brain finally infected and stilled his body.

          The man shifted, his lab coat wavering in the corner of Nezumi's sight like a specter. "You made an impressive go at it." He sounded as though he really meant to congratulate Nezumi on his escape attempt and ultimate failure. "Though, I think breaking Officer Rashi's fingers was going a bit too far..." He clicked his tongue, the sharp tsk-tsk snapping the air. "I mean, the man is a powder keg waiting to explode, and here you are, sparking flint in his face like someone with a death wish."

          Nezumi didn't speak. He didn't regret snapping the remainder of Rashi's working fingers—he should have snapped his neck. If he could go back, knowing what he did now, he would have. He would have proved himself his father's son by killing every agent he found until either they killed him, or he had left the Lab a bloody ruin of its hubris.

          "Look," Lab Coat said, and Nezumi realized that considerable time had passed between the man's gentle admonishment and Nezumi's violent fantasy. "I'm not here to reprimand you. I just want to talk."

          His voice was level and unhurried, without an ounce of the impatience or disgust with which the agents and officers of the Lab treated their prisoners. The other employees of Horizon Labs thought of the VCs as violent animals to be corralled and broken like wild stallions.

          But this man was different. The way he looked at Nezumi when he had been strapped to his table after Inukashi's attack, and the way he spoke to Nezumi now was how one might look when dissecting a difficult bit of theory. Nezumi as a whole, as a person, didn't exist to him. Under his cold gaze, Nezumi was parsed into pieces: a brain, a desperate impulse, a set of eyes or teeth or genes to be measured and probed and studied under a microscope.

          "I don't care if you start trouble." The man's lab coat fluttered as he began a leisurely perusal of the empty room. "In fact, it's better when you do. It's like a live trial; the data is far better when we can actually see the VCs in action."

          Lab Coat stopped and turned to Nezumi again from across the room. He now stood in Nezumi's exact line of sight, and unless Nezumi closed his eyes or moved, he would be forced to stare at the pasty-faced weirdo, with his greasy hair and even greasier smile. Either way, the man would get some sort of reaction from Nezumi. Which was probably his aim from the start.

          Bastard.

          "What I'm interested in is your abilities. You weren't very cooperative with the agents who spoke to you before, but they're convinced you started the riots. That would mean we're missing some crucial data on your power and its reach. I've long suspected you didn't actually need eye contact to do your work, but until now, we were certain you couldn't use mind control on subjects who weren't in close proximity to yourself.