The Machine of Flesh

Chapter Five: Purification

ChapterFive: Purification

And now we're here. I don't remember much of these past few months, from the place and mindset I am in now. The hellish torture of the otherworld, the Realm of Flesh, left me psychologically scarred and amnetic. In the patchwork of stitched up memories that I can recall, the months following my immersion into the Machine of Flesh were hellish. The Machine itself, a chair and a set of electrodes, was not the real Machine of Flesh. The Realm of Flesh, mechanistic and deterministic in its nature was the real Machine of Flesh. I found myself continually reimmersed into the machine of souls, corpses and flesh to sniff out the members of the resistance, until November 1st when I was relieved of duty from the Elite-Korps and posted to active duty in the streets of Berlin.

I had learned a lot more about room that The Machine of Flesh was housed in and the secretive underground seventh floor chamber that even I was restricted from accessing. Allegedly, from Hitler's mouth himself, the seventh underground floor of the Elite-Korps laboratories was a chamber of souls. In liquid green vats, a homogeneous viscous liquid housed the captured souls of Lucien Braun, Adalbert Braun, Josef Von Staufen and countless other Aryans and Untermensch. Their souls were captured by zero point energy field manipulators housed within the walls of the sixth floor chamber, unable to escape into the world and transition into the Realm of Flesh.

The experience with the real Machine left me feeling not curious and dissuaged about any more of the secret underpinnings of the Nazi's gambit at exponential scientific progress. Out on the streets of Berlin, with my new subordinate commander, Ulrich Starkermann, I enjoyed the somber irony of my new duty; To get fresh air out on the streets and to interrogate members of the Resistance. That's how it was supposed to go, but the extrajudicial process was much darker than that. The first day of the interrogations was nothing short of brutal, and left me more disillusioned than invigorated by the Nazi cause.

On the corner of Keine Street and Rückkehr Boulevard in uptown Berlin, we walked down towards the end of the cul-de-sac on Keine Street from our parked and blacked out sport utility vehicle to begin the targeting of innocent civilians and resistance members alike. Ulrich, a strong bodybuilder was quite old fashioned. He still worked out in a time where rejuvenative therapies could enable you to gain muscle mass quite easily. He enjoyed the pain I guess, the displeasure from one's own work that nanobots or other therapies could not replace. We went to the end of the cul-de-sac and knocked on the first door on the clipboard that Ulrich had in his hand.

The house was unassuming, almost like a small hamlet in big city Berlin, with a small garden out in the front, full of plants still in bloom as winter approached. The gray stucco siding and front gave it the anthropomorphized characteristic of being a solitary home, a serious home for serious people. As Ulrich and I looked down at the clipboard, we saw the pictures of the two residents of the home. An elderly couple (in terms of chronological age), suspected of supplying the Resistance with weaponry and stimulant drugs for combat purposes. Their pictures were framed next to their names and list of offenses, as well as pictures of their children and grandchildren.

"Martin Unschuldig and Katherine Unschuldig. Interesting last names Heinrich, very interesting. Innocent they may be, but I doubt it. They must be interrogated, and if proven guilty, purged."

I knocked on the door and rang the doorbell. No answer for a minute or two. I looked towards the window blinds next to the door and saw them shuffling as fingers and a nose poked through the lower blinds. I knocked two more times, and thrice, and from behind the door I heard an elderly woman say

"Warte eine minute, ich bin gleich da!"

A few seconds later, the door opened and I was greeted by the elderly woman in the picture. Elderly was probably the wrong term to use, since we had age rejuvenative therapies which reverted our biological age back to eighteen years old, but kept most of our features gained in aging intact. She was very attractive, blonde, slim and slender. I believe the term used in the past in Germany by soldiers was, "a mother I'd like fucking.", or colloquially, a MILF. Her blue eyes stared into my soul and she began to quiver with the overbearing presence of Ulrich and his muscular body. Perhaps she was both at once, attracted and scared by his manliness. Perhaps it was the SS uniforms, despite this she asked