“This is what you desire? To wield such immeasurable power? But…do you realize where this will leave you and those following?” The man glanced at the computer screen, around the lab lit here
and there with unimaginable compounds, and then back again to the woman he spoke with. She tugged at the hood over her head and chuckled.
“Of course,” she spoke easily. “It’s something that we, that He himself, has desired. Why would you question such a thing? …Lest…you don’t believe?” She giggled ominously. “Being son of who you are, the bloodline stands true to misguidances.”
“My father has nothing to do with it nor does the deceased of the maternity,” he answered quickly, his words sharp and tone direct. “It’s best to leave them out of this. After all, what we’re doing is business and principle; I do this work and you do yours, leaving everyone happy.”
“Maybe not everyone,” she corrected, tapping a thin finger against her chin. “But, we shall do so for the better good. Now, our Father wouldn’t want such travesty to go unnoticed, but I also don’t figure him to overlook our measures for the obstacle foreseen ahead.” She groaned a bit and downcast her shadowed face.
The man cleared his throat. “Now, if all this could be reset without consequence if something were to go awry…then we wouldn’t be in such a fix. Should I create backup?” The woman nodded. “I’ll place it in that server. It’s useful there and no one will crack it. But, I have to wonder, why are you doing this? Your group, the entirety of the population within the village and ‘province’ if you would classify such a tiny landmass-“
“I wouldn’t call it that; leave it as group,” she interrupted calmly. “It’s nothing more and nothing less; we’re believers, worshipers, followers and nothing more.”
“Right; anyway, that’s not important. The geography means nothing much in this aside from containment. Now, if we can be absolutely certain of the means in which to withhold possible surges, we should be fine. Besides, it’s not that the public will get hold of this…yet.”
She looked up at him with narrowed eyes; he could see the glimmer from beneath her hood. “Of course they will when the day of reckoning comes, but who’s to say when?” She smiled wryly. “Aren’t we playing God? But, then again, we are only doing as my father so wishes; we want salvation as do the many others, so what wrong is there?”
The man kept silent and turned his attention back to the ominously glowing screen. The lights were out, the eerie shadows stood alone on the thick, bland walls. The floors creaked at a place here or there with a step or shift of weight, but they were otherwise very sturdy. A few tubes filled with a green-colored liquid kept illuminated from their own tiny bulbs, incandescent or otherwise, and from the screen’s glow.
He clicked, typed, and repeated. A thick, foreboding silence filled the spared moments that he kept his hands still, and no one breathed. That silence was soon broken. “Where does justice lie?”
“Excuse me?” the man asked, craning his neck right to see her.
“Where does true justice lie?” she reiterated. “I wish to know.”
He shook his head and mumbled inaudibly. “You’re the most incorrigible person I know. You just won’t waver from those questions, those beliefs of yours, but they’re going to see the death of you one day, I warn you. You’ve gotten the spill before, so you should know, but I doubt you really pay attention. How old are you?”
She held up all ten fingers, put them down, and raised up eight more in their place. “That much,” she said. “Just that. I’m not wise, I’m not old, but I do wonder and concern myself,” she added quickly, her tone authoritative and firm.
Again, a thick, unending silence. She paced back and forth, her hands shoved into her long sleeves—they went in the opposite of their own dwelling sleeve. He, on the opposite side of the room to where she had wandered, stood still clicking and typing, groaning every now and again. He tapped his head, pressed the eraser of a freshly-sharpened pencil against his temple, sat it down and did it again; over and over he repeated it almost religiously.
The air shifted. Outside the one window, which wasn’t very large, droplets of water began to dot the foggy glass. The wind picked up and soon roared, but nothing seemed to be too stirred. Lightning flashed a time or two and the thunder rolled. It didn’t last long. It passed and nature quieted; it looked as if nothing had really happened but a street cleaner or window washer or something of the like.
“Have you managed the initial setup?” she asked finally, standing less than a foot away. “If not, I can grant time.”
He shook his head. “That won’t be needed. It’s up and raring to go. Next up is the control mechanism, however; that’ll be the bugger to take some time and working.” He heaved a large, exhausted sigh. “The initial going’s the hardest part: planning, collecting, setup; it’s all a pain.”
“But worth it?”
“Yeah, from what I can tell it will be.” He examined her closely, but he still saw nothing but her shadowed face and tiny figure. “For now I suggest we go. Our ‘partner’ will be helping me with the control usage. She’s better at since she actually has the tool that I need and, well, I can’t use it. Shall we head to the lodgings for the night? I have to go home and see about a certain someone who’s probably waiting up for me. You all right?”
She nodded and brushed her fingers against his broad shoulder. “Yes, it’s fine. After all…things are coming so nicely together.” With lips pursed and graceful steps, she vanished into the darkness. He watched her, took a deep breath, and left out into the rain-battered streets.
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