Black Mirror

Chapter 27 - Gotta Catch 'Em All

***ALEX***

Harlan greets me and Annie outside the morgue, but stops us before we can go in. "It's a madhouse in there," he says, gesturing through the Plexiglas panels on the sliding doors, which don't automatically open in response to our approach. Beyond the Plexiglas, two bunny-suited morgue attendants run around trying to vacuum what remains of Freddie's body. Most of the upper body is gone - pretty much only the legs are left.

"Holy shit, I really did that?" I look at my own hands, grateful that I got them cleaned of nanites as quickly as possible, but still regretting the damage I've done to Freddie. I think he deserved that even less than he deserved to die again.

"It's all right," Harlan says. "You didn't know."

"Doesn't make me any less guilty."

The attendants finish their vacuum work, then open the door and beckon us in. "Sorry we had to...wait, didn't you bring the body down to us?" The lead attendant - I say that only because he's the older of the two - removes his hood, revealing his face without the glare of the lights on the plastic face shield blocking it. "You should get yourself checked for necrophages-"

"Already did. I'm clean."

"Hmm. I'm still gonna advise you to really Purell up, just in case."

"Purell wouldn't kill the 'phages, though." The younger attendant removes his hood, revealing a face that reminds me way too much of Jimmy Palmer. (At least his superior doesn't bear a close resemblance to Ducky, otherwise I'd have to wonder if I accidentally stepped onto some other world's version of the NCIS set.) "It'd have a similar effect to what booze does to us, actually."

"Speaking from experience?" asks Annie.

"Mm-hmm. I did an internship at Immortals Image Works before I switched majors. Got to see them building the 'phages. Really old models like these, probably even had the same defects..." He checks the tank of his vacuum, which is transparent. "Of course, I'd have to stick one under the microscope to confirm, but...you know, for some reason, I'm thinking these nanites are Immortals designs."

"Nah," Harlan says.

"If anything," I say, "it's probably Peppermint."

Annie raises her eyebrows. "You said Immortals Image Works? Hey, be careful with that!"

Everyone backs away from the younger attendant as he opens the vacuum's tank. He sticks a pen inside until the very tip is coated with a thin but noticeable layer of black, buzzing nanites.

I can't repress a shudder at the sound of it. "Reminds me of bees."

"I know." The older attendant edges a little further away from his colleague. "Thank God they're not. I'm allergic." He eyeballs a medical bag sitting on a desk in the corner - probably containing his EpiPen if he needs it.

"People still have allergies in the afterlife?" I ask.

"I'm a natural-born scriv, and that doesn't make me any more perfect than you, Primer."

Annie clears her throat. "Immortals Image Works? You sure they made these nanites?"

"Probably," says the younger attendant as he coats a glass slide with nanites and sticks it into the nearest microscope. "Isn't it true that one of their old designers runs Peppermint, though? Could be them too."

"I don't think Alicia Wahlberg runs Peppermint, per se," says Harlan. "She's just really big in their design department, and from what I hear, she's a massive geek too. I've wanted to meet her for a long time."