Black and White

Escape to the Desert

 Maurice rose up onto the rooftop, life of the party of one. Looking down with one of his many eyes saw that he was being pursued by advanced autonomous beings. Tiny adjustments were setting rocket trajectory straight for him. He saw a projectile dragged in between a couple of the stacked crates. He had to keep moving, although he might not know where exactly he was going, which wasn't ideal, had been in worse situations than this. Bouncing he sprang higher, disappearing from the line of fire. Maurice landed on a windowsill where a man was watching the progress of the prisoners escape instead of helping in the return of capture. They both looked equally as surprised to see each other as two completely different beings, good vs evil. Either entity had a different idea of what that was. Lifes meaning wasn't nearly as complex as it was made out to be.

Maurice was asexual his own better half through binary fission. Calculating figures to find a mathematical explanation of what was going on in front of faces on a daily basis, unfathomable complexity, Maurice taps the window like a fish tank, the human scurries, relatively stupid, would probably be back to see if it would happen again, whatever it was. Maruice looked back to, still alone, sent a buck shot into the soldier and their weaponry. It hit bazooka Joe and he dropped to the floor where yet another mindless drone was there to pick up where things were left off. Shedding Shells of 50 caliber bullets rotating clockwise like a revolver, Maurice had no idea what a bee sting felt like only females did so in that way they were stronger than males. When the first of the renegade bullets rifled through running his pockets, he took a leap of faith flying high dodging artillery in a suit reacting to core temperature, closer to the helicopter, the fall may kill him first, the hellfire spray down below was the result of a poor marksman. Intercepted in mid air the explosion shook the barracks walls. Mo wasn't the wreckage of the rubble for the soldiers to search for survivors.

"How are we supposed to hit it without confidence?" "None of us are truly that amazing." "Put out his light and when the wars are over we'll turn up." Comrades exchange ideas.

Above Maurice saw a ventilation shaft he could fit inside with a screwdriver for the bolt. Inside his air supply could be cut off, the duct was off limits, stagnant air had a bad taste. Once he was away from danger could work on finding his way out, the gendarmes wouldn't follow him who couldn't tell him he was an experiment. Fake friends are the worst, spotlights like projectors cast a circle on the ground and a warning siren sounds. Maurices closes his many eyes wishing to disappear but who is he Houdini? These guys were more hostile than a Dad with a girl bringing home a date. Maurice bit his lower lip like a bunny. He should smile more and become approachable. Squinting against the bright lights that made his eyes water he could hear movement louder making it difficult to concentrate thoughts, it didn't seem likely this was an interstellar faring civilization. A series of pipes that were thick enough for steam ship smoke stacks carries through to a grate at the top of the facilities ventilation system, it swings up and he pushes through the opening.

A rain of bullets hit the iron metal that sent a shower of sparks upon their place of impact. It offers Maurice a shield of protection but by no means would he make it the crest to an emblem. He bangs out the dents with the tool he unscrews bolts with feeling like a black smith in the forge. After an alien autopsy he was missing part of his brain which was easier to study than document the chart on his spacecraft. He would have to get used to the new look unless hair grew over the bald patch, eyes open again as he enters the tunnel back to darkness that he had become accustomed to the planet's gravity after losing his sealegs, leaving searchlights behind he could absorb the darkness with pupil expansion. Those back home surely would notice his absence by now. Without knowing his coordinates not longitude and latitude but space and time he couldn't put out the homing beacon. It wasn't like he held any particularly powerful position that would fetch a handsome ransom. When word got out this planet would have its resources mined with the people as slaves to retrieve it using alien technology to bear witness willing participants. Clues left as to how to reach them until bored of resetting the population.

A loud noise behind Maurice and his footing shatters into shrapnel and falls down all the way to rock bottom where the bird's nest is stuck up like a telescope. It was impossible to reach him in the vents and he had to be flushed out. With considerable effort to move his feet over the broken pipe he had to keep going even without any idea what might be at the end of the hall. Even louder the siren was now hurting his ears, disorienting which side to watch out for an attack from. There probably wasn't anyone looking for him, the universe is a big place. He had to put himself together and would have to find himself so to speak. With thoughts that grew increasingly more dark it was impossible to shape an idea, footsteps stomp down the hall out of sync with a rhythm, maybe he should run too. Feeling bad without hope in despair, had to stay safe even from his own thoughts. They'd put away again this time for good. Maurice catches wind of a draft. These guys had big guns and tiny brains. No wonder there had been a robbery of the mind.

Stuff like this didn't need to happen, haircuts used to be less expensive before barbers got sick of looking at ugly autopsy scars. Maurice was pretty sure he could outsmart his brain, when it had a fart the sound was loose like the stem wasn't connected. Maurice strains to keep up the foot work as he makes the way up an incline. Someone has turned the heat on eliminating access to the vents. In the distance there are mountains he doesn't have a rescue party to look forward to only search and destroy. It's unlikely to last long in the desert, time spent there might feel longer than in reality if he finds a psychedelic cactus. Maurice crosses the soft sand swiftly to avoid burning the souls of his feet. He would be safe in the steep cliffs where he would successfully emancipate from this planet. No problem there, he knew he was different from everyone else here, not just in terms of physical appearance. Why would he want to look like any of these flesh sacks anyway, forget about an anal probe to procreate only to assert dominance.

He could lose half a pound of water weight in no time at all. A pile of rocks or a cave would work for a space to make a base. Without his entire brain he couldn't use it to call home. He might go mad with boredom. The only thing to do was talk to people. It's not like there was a lot to say so the effort to turn Maurice into a moron and get on the level was made. Suddenly there was more interest in operating on him and had to escape, unable to take on the entire military. Humans made good pets like an ant farm shrinking down to size for a shift in perspective. It's safer to send a drone. Warning not to be found out hadn't gone adhered to like glue and now nobody would listen to him protesting he meant no harm and the golden rule but what about the fibonacci sequence.

Doctor Mallard had taken out part of his brain for transmitting energy in the event of an emergency. His requirement for pick up was now more than ever, Maurice was the smartest person in the room and had to leave, this own kind would understand without going under the knife after communications ran short. He slept to cope with the increasing frequency of the experiments in an attempt to induce hypnosis. There was emotional scarring he would never get over even if his physical wounds could be sealed up. He had to hack into the covert operation drone so things could go right just this one time. A second skin covers up his body making it inoperable, he can always go crazy and wind up in Area 51, where the patient's visitors have an entire planet to see. Most of those are MK Ultra experiments gone wrong. He'd be too broken to inflict the same condition on the prison. He was going to mess them up in a spiritual way if they ran into each other in the afterlife, Maurice would become the devil coming up with torture devices that were so effective it was a social justice. Trying to sleep he didn't succeed in wishing for someone to talk to but was missing the antenna in his head that could ring up the home world.

He didn't know how but he would blow up the truth of what was happening here. Right now the haze was so deterring that to get through was like talking to a wall. Maury swallows a lump in his throat that pushes down into his stomach where there's indigestion, there was no point holding onto all this emotional baggage loading him down. These were not good people he was dealing with but wasn't going to start a fight instead sneak attack payback.