The Sympathizer

Chapter 27

The air is colder here in the viewing chamber, I feel a chill run down my arms. It's either that or the way the newly formed Plutonian stares ahead vacantly. 

"How are his cognitive abilities?" I murmur and a few nod, echoing their curiosity. "Is he able to hold a conversation?" 

"Basic conversation, yes. But like I said their brain shuts off during the reboot process. When they are born again it is like a fresh new canvas," Lazarus's smile turns devilish. "Meaning we control the narrative the moment they are born."

"A Plutonian with no memories, no values, no ability to make their own decisions," Commander Vendetta says. 

"They'd be easy to control," I conclude and Lazarus beams at the Plutonian he created, standing in the chamber below us. 

"Precisely," He says and none of this sits right with me. 

Something is amiss, I feel it pulsing in my veins, a deep gnawing in my bone. A feeling of foreboding that something bad is about to happen. I just don't know what. 

Lazarus claps his hands together and it jolts me upright. 

"Shall we take the scenic route through the lab?" He suggests and of course we follow because he's the only one here who knows this place. 

His version of the scenic route includes a small refreshment table below the viewing room with cakes and all sorts of Earth's delicacies. I aim for the coffee immediately, finishing two cups within a few gulps. Once the mini tea break is over he leads us past a row of laboratories. 

Some are empty with stacks of jars housing human organs but most are occupied with scientists, their faces all covered in protective gear as they fiddle with an assorted of machines, some looking like MRI scanners.

We stop in an antechamber, all of us huddling together to get a good view of the large room on the other side of the reinforced glass. This room has dark blue walls, bordering on black and there are spotlights on the ceiling, each one casting harsh white light over the spectacle on the floor below. 

There are numerous glass cylinders that reach about halfway up to the ceiling, all of them filled with a clear liquid. Each one has a human suspended inside, their eyes closed and chests unmoving. Tubes from the floors reach up and penetrate the walls of the cylindrical jars, attaching themselves to different parts of the human's bodies. 

Their torso's pulse in tandem with the liquid moving up from the tubes. The cylinders occupy most of the sprawling floor, there must be hundreds of them. A quick count of the tubes gives me a rough estimate of about three to four hundred cylinders. 

"Are they alive in those?" I ask and I notice a muscle tick in Lazarus's jaw. He clenches subtly, jawline looking sharp enough to cut glass before he smiles at me. 

"Yes, they are my dear. But like I said they're in a state of suspension. Kind of like the in between. Neither here nor there," He explains and I can't help but think that his explanation sounds more like a diversion. 

"Alive but not alive," I deduce and he grits his teeth again making me wonder if my question has vexed him. 

"Let me bring you to our discussion room. All of our findings and results are there. It will be easier for you to understand then," He says sweetly, eyes narrowed at me, like he's signalling for me to shut up.

I swallow and then nod, noticing the warning look he gives me. He leads us out of the ante chamber, each of us filing out like ants and then we head up a set of lifts while I wonder what I did to deserve that reaction. 

It's even more obvious once we are in the meeting room. Lazarus addresses his research while he points to the glass walls surrounding us, scribblings and formulas strewn over every surface in various colours.