Ian by M. Warren Askins

Author:M. Warren Askins [Askins, M. Warren]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: adventure, Action, Science Fiction
Published: 2021-06-10T22:00:00+00:00

I waited outside the double doors that led to the classroom wing of the complex. An area specifically allocated for the education of the deaf. A postmodern depiction of an ear hung on the wall opposite from the wall I was leaning against. My backpack rode up onto the back of my neck as I assumed the pose. I was halfway through playing a fun game I had concocted when admiring dumb artwork. It was called, “count the penises.” I think I was at seven cocks when Ian pushed through the doors.

“The coast is clear, pater.”

“One second.” I held a finger to the painting, lining up another shaft and balls, but realized I had already counted that one. “Nevermind.”

Ian offered a quizzical look at the painting. “That is a remarkable representation of a lima bean.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

We set off together down the corridor, the floor pristine, shafts of light from the overhead fluorescence giving them a welcoming patina.

“I crippled one, as you requested.”

“Oh, great,” I replied. “How many were there?”

“Only five. Well, six including the one that I spared. I do not think that this facility was prepared for any sort of assault.”

“Did you find Brie?”

“I did not look for her. I wanted to wait for you, pater.”

“I appreciate that, Ian.”

The classrooms no longer looked like classrooms. There were probably seventy of them along that corridor. Some vacant of human breeding subjects, but every one of them was identical. I recognized some of the equipment from the basement dungeon Brie and I had discovered. Gratefully, none of them were equipped with beds. Their means for conception had been elevated from their disgusting primitive origins. I mean, this was still really, really disgusting, but yeah. I don’t really know how to articulate what I mean without sounding like a callous asshole.

The women inside the rooms were all strapped down, completely immobilized. It was not cool at all, which I suppose is an understatement. The words that were actually formulating in my mind as I walked down that hall, were a bit more articulate than “uncool.” Stuff like this did not ease the raging inferno inside of me.

“Is that her?” Ian was looking through a small window at eye level on one of the gray classroom doors. He stepped aside to allow me visibility. I stared through the crosshatched window, focusing my eyes beyond the black lines, and narrowed them on a singular form strapped down on an experimental table.

“Nope,” I lowered down from tip-toes. “Not her.”

I looked to my left where Ian had been standing, but he had moved and was standing at another door ten yards down the hall. “Is this one her?” He tapped the window hopefully.

“I don’t know,” I said, approaching the robot. “Maybe? Let me look.”

It was not her. We played this game a few more times. Every room was identical, with the women as the only variable. Each was dressed in a mustard gown overtop a basic set of blue hospital scrubs, the kind doctors and nurses wore in operating rooms.

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