The Secret Life of Inanimate Objects

Chapter Twenty-One

Author’s Note (sorry!): First off, I do believe in God, although I know I can’t really call myself a Christian at this point. I’ve come to discover that, despite what I thought, I am NOT one YET. Anyway, I just don’t want to offend anyone with some of the content in this chapter. Enjoy, my lovely readers. x

***                                                               

“Once the meek become the strong, only then can they inherit the earth” – Robert Keller

“Poignant, isn’t it?” Keller breathed from beside me, staring at the bronze plaque below a statue of him. Narcissistically, he admired his likeness, his hand reaching out to stroke the strong granite nose that was so much like his. The cold air outside was foreign to me; I hadn't been out since the day I'd been brought to this camp. Despite myself, I was grateful for Keller taking me outside to show me... this.

“You’re… changing scripture verses?” I whispered, reading the words inscribed on the plaque over and over again. The blatant blasphemy stunned me. To be honest, I had never been Christian; my parents were “atheist”, and had never imposed spirituality on me, obviously.

However, a girl called Natalie Powers in my English class had always awed me. Being Christian didn’t make her boring, or fanatical, or queer. She was sane, contrary to what my parents said about Christians, and cheerful, and full of so much happiness it hurt to look at her.

I knew enough to know that Keller somehow considered himself some sort of god, and my father, and who knew how many others, worshipped him.

“Not changing them exactly,” Keller said softly, retracting his hand from the statue. “I prefer making them better. How will the meek inherit the earth if they don’t stand up for themselves, hmm?”

****

“Do you realise what you’re asking me?” Edmund Paulson asked the slender man sitting across the scarred wooden table, a note of incredulity in his tone.

Robert Keller sat upright, his head held high. “I know what I’m asking for, Mr. Paulson. I only hope you understand the severity of this situation; the importance.”

Edmund Paulson shook his head once again, astonished by what this man was asking him for. “Despite their crimes, they are still human beings, Mr. Keller, not the guinea pigs you want them to be.”

“Still human beings?” Keller mimicked, finally showing semblance of some emotion. “Are you listening to yourself, Mr. Paulson? How on earth can they possibly be human beings? Are you telling me that they’re exactly like you and I, save for the fact that they’ve committed crimes?”

“Mr. Keller, I think this meeting is over. As head of this prison, I have every right to throw you right out,” Paulson said darkly, gingerly standing up. He felt his bones creak at the minute movement, and mentally groaned. “You are the exact definition of a mad scientist, no offence.”

Keller followed suit, standing up abruptly and knocking the iron-wrought chair down with a clash. “Edmund!” he called, not wanting the burly warden to walk away with his last chance at success in hand. “You know that what I’m doing will prevent overcrowding in prisons! Even better, it will prevent criminals escaping jail because of a jury’s wrongful decision! Don’t you –”

Paulson spun around to face the much younger man. “No, Robert, what you’re doing is beyond inhumane and inconceivable. Torturing prisoners? Inhumane!” His face softened and he cleared his throat. “Look, what happened to your mother and your wife was awful – but that doesn’t give you the right to play God with these animals’ lives. I’m sorry, but you should focus on something else.”

“Is that it?” Keller said, shaking with fury. “Is that all you have to say? You’re protecting murderers, rapists – monsters! How do you sleep at night?”

“Evidently better than you do,” Paulson said softly, and he turned on his heel and left the strange man alone.

Keller watched him go, his heart pounding painfully against his chest. The Pat Jefferson Correctional Facility had been his last chance at obtaining suitable candidates for his project.

But if the monsters wouldn’t come to him, then, well, he would go to them.