Spectrum - A Science Fiction Short Story

Sunday 23rd April

Instead of clogging up my entries around the time I received this diary, I think it's better to explain my story from the start. Put together some order of events.

Enter scene, yours truly, pissed out of her mind. Stumbling down a side street off Tremont Avenue one afternoon. Lucky I still had some connections in the arsehole of the city, many of which, despite appearances I'd happily call my friends. They must have sat my drunk ass down and let me sleep it off because when I woke later, it was already night. The little makeshift bed they had made was pulled up close to the fire barrel. I recognised a few of the other women. Everyone was standing around the fire, rubbing their sweaty hands free of the dirt.

One of the men handed me a paper plate. It was loaded with beans and had a baked potato boat swimming in the centre, layered with cheese. I sat up and took one of the plastic forks from a bag on the ground and tucked in. There was a commotion at the entrance of the alleyway. Although it was dark, we could tell from the light of the fire that there were three men approaching. Beyond them, a white transit van had pulled up to the kerb, only half its length visible in the narrow alley.

I'm certain that the guys were used to all sorts of requests from strangers. Some of them eyed the newcomers suspiciously as they stepped closer into the light of the fire. Others sloped away from the fire, returning to their mattresses and pulling the sheets up around them to make like they were sleeping.

The first man who approached was all teeth. He was dressed like a nineties children's TV presenter. Zigzag stripes on his cardigan and a blonde Lego man haircut. The type that looked like he still used groovy, gave High Fives and a double thumbs-up. Tall and thin, he walked on Bambi legs tracing the ground with his eyes, swerving around litter and garbage juice.

Two others lurked behind. They didn't share the enthusiasm of the front-runner, looking more like hired help that only smiled when ordered. They wore all black, even down to their mood - puffer jackets, jeans and boots and they didn't seem particularly pleased to be there.

Even now, I don't remember what was discussed over that fire. At least not for the hour or so that the men were there. What I do remember was how it ended. That's why I'm here, in this room writing this.

Any suspicion the group had soon left when Zigzag sent Bebop and Rocksteady off to the liquor store to buy beers for the group. When they came back, arms loaded, there was enough for everyone. Even those lurking in the shadows joined the circle.

As the clock ticked nearer midnight, and with drink supplies beginning to run low, the man, who called himself Philip, decided to declare his hand. He said he was head of marketing at an international medical research company. It was his responsibility to recruit volunteers for a new series of clinical trials. The company, BioLuminary, were willing to give the candidates, if they passed the screening process, compensation for taking part. To show he was serious, Philip took out a bundle of notes from a back pocket and waved it at the group. The stunned faces around the fire glanced from his hand to his ever so smug face.

I didn't take the hook. I waited silently for the questions which Philip batted away with ease. Yes, it was safe. No, not everyone is picked. Yes, it's cash in hand. Tax-Free. Free accommodation. Free food. All for as long as you cooperate with the program. Once it's finished, we would be free to return home.

I saw his mask slip as he made the last point and looked at the cardboard boxes and plastic sheet roofs of the houses lining the alley. The others were only too keen to sign up there and then. Those interested were instructed to form a line along one side of the wall. I returned to the mattress and sat down to watch.

Bebop and Rocksteady moved to the first person at the head of the queue. Philip spoke to the group and said that only two could be chosen but only after a preliminary medical check-up. He also said that the specific trials would only apply to those between the ages of 18 and 45. That knocked three off the list straight away. I looked at the group and counted six willing participants.

Each person in the queue, nervous grins on their faces, performed a series of orders, answering Philip's questions. I could tell from the responses that were given, he wasn't happy with the stock - a little sideways glance away from the group revealed his disgust. One by one, he directed those he had finished with to return to the fire barrel. When he had reached the final person, there was some promise in his movements. He hadn't dismissed the man like the rest and seemed a little more thorough in the physical examination.

From his trouser pocket, he pulled out a flashlight and shone it into the man's eyes, and then looked into his mouth. Pleased, he told the man to roll up his sleeves. Bebop and Rocksteady stepped a little closer, suddenly taking an interest in the selection process. A curse from Philip suggested that what they saw didn't fit the profile. He mumbled something to the other men and took a deep breath, shaking his head.

It so happened that at that point his vision was trained on me. We stared at each other and I could see a glimpse of hope return to his face. The grunts behind him from the men suggested it was time to go but Philip raised an arm to quieten them before he approached me.

At this point, I was aware of the others near the fire watching. They were mumbling above the crackle of fire, still wondering if they had just been selected.

When Philip asked me why I didn't volunteer, I told him that I didn't need the money. He asked why I was there and I told him. He asked me to reconsider. My resolve not to get involved wavered. Maybe there was something in the beer. Who am I kidding? I was miserable and the idea of an adventure or escape seemed more attractive at that point. Philip knew that. Soon enough, I passed his questions and the physical examination. Not content with my answer that I didn't shoot up, he asked me to show my arms, which I did. His smile seemed to wrap around his head before saying-

"Welcome to the team."