Xenoman

27 Sunlite Factory

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27 SUNLITE FACTORY

The smell of manure blew into the cab of the station wagon, the pale lavender dawn brightening the dehydrated corn fields with each passing mile, every row of stalks the color of grocery bag paper, racing by the windshield like hypnotic wheel spokes. The lull of repetitive scenery was broken by a tall man, stumbling out of the cornfield into the center of the road, several yards ahead. The man stopped and turned towards the station wagon, watching in silence as it approached.

It appeared to be a barefoot farmer, wearing a sun hat tilted forward, exposure-worn overalls hanging by one strap from his shoulder, shirtless underneath. Andrea slowed the station wagon down, bringing the vehicle to a crawl, the gravel gently crunching under the tires, stopping just yards from the farmer. Xeno waved through the windshield. The farmer said nothing and ducked back into the cornstalks. Xeno hopped out of the station wagon and pursued the farmer, with the glare of the morning sun in his face. He locked onto the outline of the farmer's hat, losing sight of his silhouette in the sun's rays, unable to trace the sound of the farmer's feet thrashing through the vegetation, dwindling up ahead, until it was silent.

Xeno paused to catch his breath, then continued stumbling forward in the same direction, at a relaxed pace. He came to a clearing with an upright object covered by a dirty canvas tarp. The outline beneath the tarp resembled the head and shoulders of an armless mannequin, the lower half fanned out like a woman's hoop skirt.

"What do you think, Garry?" Xeno grabbed the edge of the tarp and began to raise it. "Scarecrow?"

"Probably just derelict farm equipment," Garry said from Xeno's transceiver. "Let's have a look."

Before Xeno could lift up the remainder of the tarp, a humanoid hand clamped down on his shoulder, startling him. He spun around to see the farmer, facing him in silence, holding his hat to his chest with one hand. His face was featureless, like a mannequin with no visible orifices. Three parallel black strips ran across the surface of his bald head.

"They're labor synths," Garry said from the transceiver. "Solar powered by those black stripes on the scalp."

"This one looks like it hasn't been maintained for some time." Xeno looked over the labor synth's weatherbeaten clothing.

"Yes, and they're not cheap."

The farmer synth walked back into the cornfield at a much slower pace, allowing Xeno to follow him without getting lost, revealing a strange tattoo on the back of his head, just above the neck, depicting a circle with eight legs reaching downward:

"What is that tattoo?" Xeno asked Garry. "Some sort of spider symbol?"

"Aten, the sun disk." Garry replied on the transceiver. "Praised in Egyptian mythology as the creator, giver of life, and nurturing spirit of the world. According to the Book of the Dead, the deceased even called on him to nurture the living with his rays, but this lore is several centuries old. No one takes it seriously, except cults."

The farmer synth led Xeno to a larger clearing where several other labor synths walked in single file procession in weatherbeaten clothes, all with featureless faces, black solar stripes on their scalps, the same Aten tattoo on the back of their heads. They trudged across the soil wearing boards tied to their feet with twine, each extending one arm and resting their fingers on the Aten tattoo of the next head in line. They paid no attention to Xeno as he observed.

"What's with the boards tied to their feet?" Xeno asked Garry.

"They're using their feet to draw the crop circle version of Aten. You can see the spy cam view on your holopane."