[Original Novella] Persistence of Vision, Part 4 (the finale!)

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I slowed as I approached her. Unbelieving, still. I came for her bones...never imagining I would find her in the flesh. So weak, so fragile. I whispered to her, but could not break her focus. Her hands were a blur, whipping through the sheets of paper at a rate which must’ve taken years of practice to achieve.

Six long years down here. Shackled to this seat. Fed through a tube, absorbed into a man made organism the depravity of which defies description. Having seen enough, I raised my bolt cutters and neatly snipped her feeding tube.

She shrieked, then began feebly battering me. Only for a moment though. She resumed drawing, an anguished look now on her tired, hoary face. I continued cutting her restraints, including the bolts which fastened the harness to her seat.

“That won’t do, will it? Yeah, dumpity doo. I can no more tolerate losing even one of my precious little comrades than you could allow me to cut out a piece of your brain. You know I won’t let you leave here with the girl, right? Hey, wow.”

His tone was now overtly menacing. Natasha fought me as I pulled her from the seat, her arms still moving about as if to draw. Then I took the stuffed animal from my pocket and showed it to her. Her eyes widened in sudden recognition. She looked up at me, and tears began to flow.

“All this time I was searching for you” I whispered. “I never gave up. Even though I thought you were gone.” I took off my jacket and wrapped her up in it, then set about freeing slaves in the seats adjacent to hers.

“No!! What are you doing, dumpity doo? Haha, hey!” The projection flickered slightly. Peter’s voice always had a scratchy quality to it, but it seemed to intensify as I removed more and more animators from their restraints.

As I watched, he grew less fluid. Motions now discernibly jerkier, the result of dropped frames as I liberated one haggard wretch after the next. “NO!!!” he bellowed, then stepped out of the screen. I couldn’t comprehend how until I looked behind me at the projector.

No simple mechanism of light and moving film. Instead, what I took for the fruits of the dimensionalization research I glimpsed a few rooms back. Now life sized, Peter began stomping down the row of desks towards me.

“Haha, look what you’ve gone and made me do! Hey, wow.” I threw Natasha over one shoulder and ran for the corridor, Peter following in hot pursuit. “Back to the seat with her! Dumpity doo! No time to waste. Don’t you see the beauty of it? Each receiving just what they need to continue working. All toiling together in unison to realize the magnificent Socialist ideal!”

I glanced over my shoulder at the surreal apparition barreling down the corridor with me, not thirty feet behind. Film grain still flickering over the surface of his impossibly three dimensional body, movements now herky-jerky. Like no living thing I’ve ever seen. My heart pounded, my mind raced. How did it come to this?

The tunnel stretched out ahead, warping subtly, undulating as I began to lose my grip. Sweat accumulated on my forehead, some of it running down into my eyes. How could all this have continued for so long without being discovered? A monstrous violation of the natural order.

I reached the part of the tunnel with the broken down people movers, fighting to edge past them as I heard his voice echo down the corridor towards me, louder and louder. Distorted by the tunnel, drawn out by the dropped frames. “Duuummpppiitttyyyy dddooooooooooo”.

We arrived at the entrance to the ride. The door now within sight, cradling Natasha in my arms, I summoned the last of my energy and prepared to make a mad dash for the train station. It took the sight of the fusebox to make me stop. It’s not enough just to rescue Natasha, surely?

I couldn’t allow this to continue. If I simply ran, they’d continue sending out tickets. More would come. Peter would survive. I couldn’t abide it. So I began furiously pulling fuses and pocketing them. I heard confused, panicked shrieking echo from the corridor.

When Peter finally rounded the corner and came into view, he’d begun to unravel. I must’ve pulled the fuse for lighting, the animators now forced to work in the dark. Struggling desperately to keep him on model but failing.

His outline wobbled, fluctuated and glitched as he stumbled towards us. I threw my bolt cutters at the fusebox which erupted in a shower of sparks. He wailed in agony, falling to his hands and knees, shape varying more and more wildly.

Ink now bled from his eyes, nose, mouth and ears. I could see only static in his eyes. He wheezed. “You...can’t kill...a dream. D-dump...d-...dumpity...dooooo.” I finally turned and fled, kicking down the door. The night air stung my skin terribly. Natasha began to violently shiver as I carried her frail body towards the park entrance.

Behind us, the animation center burst into flames. I could just make out the faintly glowing form of Peter dragging himself through the doorway, coughing up ink. Not my problem now. I did everything I could, surely?

Would the rest escape? I freed a few. They at least stand a chance now. Guilt nagged at me as I bore my dear sister towards the train. Towards home, and the return to a life which I once thought forever lost.

She coughed, body convulsing in my arms as I trudged along. “Shh” I whispered. “It’s okay now. It’s finally going to be okay now that I have you back. Everything will be exactly how it was. Just need to get you home, draw a hot bath, call the doctor…”

Her coughing grew worse and worse as we approached the train platform. The bitter cold seemed too much for her after six years spent indoors. I could hardly survive it if, having gone to such lengths to rescue her from that nightmare, she were to perish from something as comparatively trivial as pneumonia.

I despaired that I had nothing more to warm her but my coat. I fumbled with my phone trying to call an ambulance but with just one bar, the call never went through. It felt like a miracle when, at last, the train pulled in. Still not warm but nowhere near as cold as a Russian winter’s night.

I laid her down across several seats. She gazed at me mournfully, and I briefly wondered if she missed that place. If she really loved that creature. But when I leaned in to inspect her for injuries, she wrapped her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder.

I wept. Six years worth of pent up anguish suddenly released in a torrent of relief. Premature, maybe. I still have to get her to a doctor. In the meantime it was the best I could do to search her for bruises and cuts.

I found the familiar implant at the base of her neck, light still blinking. Wish I’d kept the bolt cutters so I could remove this horrid thing. The doors slid shut with a raspy metallic groan, and the train lurched forward. She whimpered as I pressed on bruised spots. Then blushed and held my jacket tightly as I tried to open it.

“I know it’s embarrassing, but I have to know if you’re hurt.” She reluctantly allowed it. In this lighting I could at last see how emaciated she really was. Every rib clearly outlined. I could even make out the shape of her sternum.

Not the worst of it. Not nearly. I choked up when I saw the long gash in her side. Must’ve snagged what was left of the feeding tube on the fence as we climbed over. I again wept. Not with relief this time, and not because of her wound.

I wept because the opening bled only sticky, black ink. She again gave me a mournful look which I at last understood the meaning of. The little red bulb at the base of her neck finally went out. Her outline began to flicker. I threw my arms around her as if to stop it, but she was already gone.

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^{The End.}