[Original Novel] Pressure 3: Beautiful Corpse, Part 9
Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
He managed only an abrupt screech as he was dragged into it. A second later he was gone, as was the shadow. Olivia now sat alone in the dimly lit examination room, still locked in but immensely relieved.
Soon she’d bang on the door for help. But for the moment, Olivia set aside a few minutes to concoct an explanation as to how she’d gotten herself locked in here, and where the good doctor had vanished to. One close call was enough. She now more fully appreciated how easily her life, such as it was, could come to an end if she were careless.
The face which greeted her when the door finally opened was Vivian’s. Olivia cried out in relief. The strength she’d summoned to dispose of Dr. Bizen now left her and she struggled to stand. Vivian helped her up, but where she gripped Olivia’s arm, a seam in her skin split open.
“Fuck, I’m sorry. No, don’t cover it, you’ll attract attention if people think you’re wounded. Let the haze conceal it.” The two walked quickly but calmly from the clinic back to the hub, then to the tower in which Vivian’s apartment was located. “How did you know I was in trouble?” Vivian pointed to Olivia’s umbilical. “I could feel it. We’re connected. When you opened the shadow, I knew something had gone wrong. Don’t do that too much, by the way. It consumes a lot of energy, and he’s still weak for the moment.”
Olivia stared. The words spilled out of Vivian’s mouth as casually as if she were discussing taxes, recent films or her work schedule. “He? What “He” do you mean?” Vivian sighed and declined to answer. Soon enough the two reached her apartment. Upon slipping inside Olivia was shocked to find small fridges stacked up to the ceiling all along one wall.
“Pretty sweet, right? Normally just one per apartment but I perfected the guy who allocates shit from the warehouse module. He fudges the records, has these delivered in nondescript crates, and-” Olivia chose that moment to interrupt. “What are they for? Who needs all this?” Vivian furrowed her brow, as if Olivia was supposed to know. She swung open one of the fridge doors.
Stacked inside were all manner of body parts. Eyes, feet, hands, individual fingers, sections of thigh and calf, shoulders, hearts, lungs, stomachs and so on. Olivia’s jaw hung open. Vivian just walked down the row opening one door after the next as if to show off. “Take anything you want from rows three though six, that’s all women. The rest are male bits. I know your joints need replacing, knock yourself out.”
Olivia gaped at the spectacle before her, then looked at Vivian who stood, deadpan and blinking, trying to hand her a neatly severed knee. Olivia sat down, breathing heavily and struggling to find words. “Vivian, what have you….How many have you killed? When I let you in on all of this, I had no idea you would...Jesus, Vivian. Holy fucking shit.”
Vivian laughed. “Me? I didn’t do all this, I’m just storing it. The others bring what they’ve collected here, I keep it chilled so it’s still good when they need it.” Olivia’s faced was contorted into an expression of baffled disgust. “Others?” She recalled the men she’d run into the other night, in particular the one who ranted so bizarrely. What was Vivian to them? Some kind of parts dealer?
“This is just temporary too. Until we can find someplace more secure. The lowest levels are practically empty, most of us agree that’s where we should really get an operation going.” It was too much to take in. Implications upon implications. Who was this person? The Vivian she knew could never stomach something like this.
Thinking back to her altercation with Dr. Bizen, Olivia realized she was also changing into someone unfamiliar to herself. Each act seemed necessary and justifiable at the time, but they built on one another, snowballing into atrocity.
“There’s over a hundred of us now. Think of the logistics! Each one of us needs essentially a whole body worth of replacement parts what, once a month? Less? Not all at the same time, but piecemeal, like the ship of Theseus. Meeting that demand required that some of us get our shit together and organize some kind of infrastructure for dismantling bodies, cleaning the parts, then properly storing them for later use. All without arousing suspicion.”
As if anticipating the question, Vivian continued. “Perfecting all of the Belusarius security officials was one of the first things we did. When someone reports a missing person, they are assured everything will be done to find them, but that’s the end of it. We’re distributed pretty evenly throughout this place so with a little coordination we can reinforce one anothers’ lies, claim that we’ve seen the missing engineer, nurse, sailor or whoever else hiding on deck 15 to avoid work. Whatever it takes to placate them. By the time enough of the crew realize what’s happening, there will be more of us than them.”
It occurred to Olivia for the first time that Vivian was likely to turn on her if it became clear that she did not want to be complicit. Aspects of her speech had begun to resemble that of the others, and she now facilitated unspeakable acts as a matter of course. So she forced a smile and sat quietly as Vivian carefully took her legs apart with a surgical saw and began integrating the new joints. The elbows were next, followed by a couple of fresh vertebra for her neck and lower back.
“Yenno, there’s a lot in your abdomen you don’t need anymore. Pancreas, liver, kidneys, spleen. I had mine out yesterday, it’s very slimming. I can do that for you while I’m at it.” Olivia cringed, but did not stop smiling for fear of betraying her disgust. “Some other time. You’ve done enough.” Vivian finished mending the openings in her neck. “Stand up, walk about. Do some stretches.” Olivia complied. No cracking or popping. Everything felt as good as new. Her elation very briefly drowned out how disturbing the context was.
“It’s perfect. You’ve gotten so good at mending! I can’t mend for shit, I’ve been using a sewing kit all this time. I’ll just come to you from now on.” A chill went through her as she realized she meant it. The feeling of wear and fatigue was gone. Even the normal aches she remembered from before the Tartarus were absent. She was not just good as new, but noticeably better. A closer look at Vivian revealed the same was true for her.
“Haha! I was wondering when you’d notice. Yeah, these aren’t my tits. The thighs are also aftermarket, you might say. Rachael, that horrible bitch from human resources. Remember that warning slip she gave me for clocking out two minutes early? I clocked her out. Her head’s in a fridge on the bottom row in case I want her lips, I haven’t decided.”
Absolutely beyond the pale. She’d gone from necessity, supporting the survival needs of the ever increasing number of fabricants aboard the Belusarius, to elective self improvement. It was now impossible not to say something. “Is this really….Should we be doing this? You don’t seem at all disturbed by it.”
Vivian looked quizzical. “What else can we do? We’ll fall apart if we don’t repair ourselves. We need to increase our numbers so that the remaining crew can’t destroy us when we’re discovered. That’s the endgame, Liv. Everyone aboard this tub will be like us. I give it three weeks. Maybe less. Fuck, if this bothers you…” She gestured to the fridges, “...You should see what they’re building on level 20. Or maybe not. Are you up to this? You’re not gonna create problems for the rest of us, are you?”
She spoke with what sounded like concern, but there was a detectable menacing quality to it as well. “Oh. Oh, no.” Olivia stammered. “I understand now. It all makes sense! There’s no other way if we want to survive. All part of his plan, right?” She flashed a smile, struggling not to visibly tremble and feeling glad that she could no longer sweat. Vivian warmly smiled back. “Exactly. Everything according to the master’s plan. Stick with me, Liv. You’ll get first choice of top shelf parts.”
Olivia left the claustrophobic room with its rows of fridges and their troubling contents, replaying something Vivian told her in her mind. “You should see what they’re building on level 20.” She shuddered. But that would have to wait. Violet was still lying comatose in Dr. Bizen’s lab.
Someone would notice he was missing. Even if their fears were quelled by Belusarius security, somebody would eventually replace him and resume his work. It would not take long for that person to realize, as Dr. Bizen had, that something about the comatose girl was out of the ordinary.
By Vivian’s description, the number of missing persons was rapidly approaching a critical mass where the rest of the crew would no longer be possible to deceive. The geometric rate of abductions for parts, not even considering the ones converted to fabricants, was unsustainable in the extreme. It was a matter of days, a week at most. If Violet was not rescued before then, she never would be.
Stay Tuned for Part 10!