Fabricated Chapter 16

[companionwolf]

 When the trunk is opened, the sun is high in the sky, and PC has to blink a few times to get the spots out his eyes, to see the figures that reach gingerly toward him. He frantically wills his astral limbs to invisibility, and to his relief, they fade before the light reveals them. 

Elyion takes his speech and uses it to hiss as the white coat picks him up, but this only makes the scientist look excitedly at their companions, makes them say something about a color change, about a flicker of green.

PC is about to speak when he changed hands and is dropped rather roughly, head first, into a bag. It’s clear, so he can see out, and watches as the scientists talk to each other- something about containment, something about contamination. 

He’s carried across the vacant lot the vehicle was parked into a large non-distinct concrete building, whose white halls and uniform doors confuse his senses until he loses track of the rights and lefts and centers. 

PC is brought into a room that has a smaller sectioned area, behind glass; one of the scientists brings him into this area, opens the bag, and hurries back out again, and PC hears the click of a lock. 

The scientists sit at a table in front of the glass panel, and with a soft buzz, a intercom comes on. PC glances about the perimeter of the ceiling as he wriggles out of the bag and notes a camera. 

A woman comes in briefly, handing the others paper and pencils, saying words that he cannot read from her lips. She gives him a look and her eyes are wide, and he is able to understand she is afraid.

They’re all afraid, he realizes. 

Of him? Or Elyion? Maybe both. 

Something in him squares its metaphorical shoulders. It can take advantage of that, he can take advantage of that. 

There is a tap on a microphone, which makes the intercom buzz a harsh noise. If PC could wrinkle his nose, he would, but he can’t, so he settles for backing himself upright in a corner. 

“Is this on?” asks one of the scientists. Young, messy red hair, freckles, brown eyes. One of his companions pushes him aside, leans toward the mic sounds board- this one is tall, short black hair, hazel eyes, a small burn scar on her right cheek. She presses a button, and the camera in the corner blinks on a red light.

“Alien specimen observation session one,” she says, and he hears her deliberate speech, like how the Owner would do when practicing for a performance- Elyion hisses again, and he shakes his head at it.

Easy, he says internally. We’ll get further if we don’t antagonize them. 

I want to antagonize them! Its voice is a child. Their kind hurt me!

I know, I know, just work with me here.

“Remarkable,” says the third and last scientist -sandy long hair, blue eyes- as they scribble on a notepad. “Is it causing the pillow to be able to emote through the ink print image?”

“The pillow isn’t the sentient one, it just seems to be,” says the redhead, and PC feels relief flood him, as the scientist goes on to explain his theory that ‘the alien’ is unable to exist on its own, which isn’t wrong, but PC isn’t telling them that, not now. 

They think it’s just Elyion. They don’t know. They haven’t figured it out.

Elyion snaps internally at him, at his relived state, although the emotions feel more childish then truly angry; aren’t we a team, it asks, this is still bad!

Not as bad as it could be, he answers. Just...let me talk. I’ll get us out of here.

PC makes a noise like he’s clearing his throat, kicks his brain’s scream of WE DONT HAVE A THROAT WHY DID WE DO THAT WE ARENT EVEN REAL to the side, and speaks: “I’m invoking the fifth amendment.”

He hopes that’s the right one. He never did get into studying the Owner’s books like some of the others.

“You know american law?” asks the redhead.

“Focus,” says the black haired woman. To PC, she says: “What is your intent to the human population of the planet?” 

PC crosses his arms, arches an eyebrow, and remains quiet. 

The woman pauses. “You’re not a person,” she says after a moment, “you can’t invoke Miranda rights.”

“Can’t it?” asks the redhead. “I mean, if it knows American law, can it be classified as a American citizen?”

“James, we don’t have time for your philosophy questions,” the black haired woman says. “And for the record, knowing something doesn’t make you something.”

“It’s a interesting question, though, isn’t it, Marth?” says the sandy haired scientist. “We really are on the brink of such ethical—“

“Both of you, stop it, or I’ll call for somebody else to oversee this with,” Marth says. 

The two men exchange looks, and then look at PC, who stares back confused until he realizes they’re looking at him for agreement in their silent irritation. He shrugs at them. 

Marth meets PC’s gaze, level and steady. “Maybe my initial question is too off putting,” she says. “Let’s try again, something simple. What would you describe yourself to be? As in, what do you call your species?” 

“Target brand generic body pillow,” PC says.

James snorts; Marth glowers at him. “Not your...hosting body,” she says to PC, “but you.”

“Uh, custom made dakimarkura case,” he says. 

“Again, not your hosting-“

“What’s a dakimarkura?” asks the sandy haired one. 

PC gestures at himself. “Japanese body pillow, so basically what I already told you,” he says. “Usually they have anime characters on them.”

You’re something special, hums his core, in Kitty’s voice, and he mumbles it to himself. 

“Speak up,” says Marth. “Make this easy, we’ll help each other.”

I don’t want to help them, hisses Elyion in PC’s mind.

Don’t worry, they’re not getting anything actually useful here.

“I said,” PC says, “I’m something special.”

“How so?” asks James, before Marth can speak.

“Well, I was custom ordered,” he says. 

Marth jumps in, cutting off sandy haired scientist: “And, I’ll indulge you for a moment, who ordered you?” 

Oh, he’s not putting the Owner in danger; everything in him glows hot and red and furious at the thought. 

“A cat walked across a keyboard and just so happened to enter the digits of a random credit card number and a random address. A month later, there I was.”

Marth frowns. “I’m being nice, so don’t bullshit me,” she says. 

PC sighs, goes for a vague truth in answer. “If I tell you, you’ll go after them, and they really don’t need that on top of everything else right now.”

“Fine,” Marth says. “We’ll drop it for now.”

Sandy haired scientist is staring at PC hard. “I know you,” he says. “I mean, I’ve seen your image around somewhere.”

“Ever play XCOM 2?” asks PC. 

James’ eyes light up. “I played the X-COM demo as a kid all the time on my dad’s work computer,” he says. “Never did get around to checking out that 2012 remake though...are you from that one?”

“The sequel to that, actually, but close enough,” PC says. He narrows his eyes at them. “Hey, you’re doing this for the government right?”

“We can’t confirm or deny that,” Marth says.

“Then maybe telling you about what’s coming will get things done, since I think the president is... not focusing right,” he says, the last part a mumble.

“On what?” asks James, and PC launches into his spiel. 

He tells them everything, save anything about Bureau, which pleases Elyion. When he’s done, the scientists are giving each other looks that mingle fear with wonder. 

Jake asks for the kid’s’ phone number so they can meet up and get the Sectoid corpses for study, and after a brief hesitation, PC tells him it, half begging not to drag them into this; Marth assures him they’ll be left alone, but he doesn’t believe her, not for a second.

Jake leaves the room to make the call. Marth and the sandy haired scientist remain at the mic table. 

“So,” says the former, “are you done pretending to be the pillow?”

“Nah,” says PC. “Also, make sure it’s ‘pretending to be the pillow case’ in your notes, because that’s the actual fact.” 

“You’re a little bastard, aren’t you?” Marth says.

“My more foul mouthed friends might agree with you, sure,” he answers. 

She fumes silently; the sandy haired scientist leans over to the mic. “Can you, uh, walk the length of the room for me?” he asks. “I want to see how you move.”

“Okay,” PC says, and complies, shuffling across the tiles. Sandy haired scientist returns to scribbling in his notes, looking up at PC every so often.

Marth takes a deep breath, is about to speak, when Jake returns. 

“We’ve got a team on the way to get the bodies now,” he says. He looks over at PC. “Also, he broke one of the Service cars taillights; drivers are bugging me to make our department pay for it...”

Marth stares at him. “How the hell—“

“I don’t know, Martha, maybe he suffocated it out, I don’t know.” He pauses in his sudden burst. “We’ll find out though. We’re scientists, after all.”

“How about I show you instead?” PC says, and wills his astral arms into being. They appear, and sandy haired scientist yelps, hurriedly making even more notes. 

“What the hell—“

PC clenches his fist, and then releases, and Psionic energy jumps between his fingers. The three stare at his hand. 

“And you call this what, again?” asks Jake, somewhat breathlessly.

“Psionics,” says PC.

“And the limbs?”

He does not answer. They do not seek to notice. 

“That’s not possible,” says Marth. “That’s something out of a sci fi book.”

“What’s coming to Earth is literally already in one of your video games but it’s pretty damn real,” PC counters. 

“You said it’s something that humans can do,” says the sandy haired scientists. “That it’s innate, but that it can also be induced, and that alone is incredible, but then there’s you, in a nonhuman host but still able to do it—“

“Which proves it’s some kind of incorporeal alien,” Marth says. “Possibly... made of this energy?” She furrows her brow. “You are not some kind of defecting members of those ‘Elder’ brings you mentioned, are you?”

“No, no, the Elder’s are all really into their little dont-die-and-take-the-Earth cult, no traitors there,” PC says. 

“What makes you different?” Marth says, but it’s only half directed at him, so PC doesn’t answer.

She leans back in her chair. “I see we’re not going to get any further with you today,” she says. She stands up, and the two men follow her lead; she clicks something on the mic board again, and the low hum of the intercom fades out. The light next to the camera turns back to its soft white.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” she says, and leaves, sandy haired scientist on her heels. Jake lingers, fingers on the mic board. 

“Where did you get the ribbon?” he asks. PC gently touches the thin slip of fabric that’s tied about where his ink neck is. 

“It was a gift,” he says.

“You’re not really the alien, are you?” asks Jake.

“That’s for you to science out, isn’t it?” counters PC.

Jake frowns. “Yeah, I guess so.” He glances at the door. “Do you need anything? I think we can accommodate within reason. Just leaving you here seems...kind of cruel.” 

“That’s unusually sweet, coming from a government employee,” PC says.

“We’re not evil!” Jake says. Then he frowns again, deeper this time, but doesn’t say anything else, just switches the mic off and leaves them room.

You made him self conscious, says Elyion. Good.

Want to help me destroy that camera? PC asks. We need it gone if we want to try to get that door unlocked. 

Okay, says the Ethereal. How?

Psioncally shoot it, he answers, thinking the memory of the haunted house at the alien. That’s was what I was thinking anyway, but if you’ve got any other tricks... 

I can try.

The ethereal lifts his arm, snaps the fingers- psionic energy flickers to life about them. It gathers the energy into a ball held between the palms (warm, slightly painful) and then reabsorbs it back into the hand as it steps back, striking out toward the camera. 

It does this whole process a few more times, with no success at the end. PC frowns.

What are we missing?

Maybe you have to do it too?

Worth a shot.

He joins it in the movements, matching the snap and the pressing of the palms and then the strike out- 

A small flurry of green Psionic energy blast out from the palm, hitting the camera head on. It crackles, mixing electricity and psi, and then goes limp, servos death whining. PC grins. 

Good job!

I wonder if we could do it bigger? 

Let’s find out. 

PC shuffles over to the door, testing it like any human would- jiggle the handle, push against it, just to make sure. It does not move. 

He and Elyion strike out again, and the psionic burst goes through the door, making a hole. PC pushes the corner of himself into it, and for the next few minutes, squirms and wriggles and turns until finally, finally, all of him has squeeze through to flop against the other side’s floor. 

He stands up and shuffles across the room to the exterior door.

Can you do any other tricks? he asks Elyion. 

I can try the thing Asaru does, Elyion says. Maybe that will help us?

PC is about to ask what it means, when his consciousness jumps up alongside Eylion’s, and suddenly he is looking down at himself, at the hall and the room. There is a feeling of something expanding, and slowly other details fill in- other rooms, other halls, and faintly, PC feels himself grin.

Battle focus? he asks, half a question, half a confirmation. 

Battle focus! replies the Ethereal, sounding giddy. 

PC sweeps his gaze across the ‘map’, eyeing a exit door across the compound, and plans a route to it. There are a few double doors in the way, and he absently wonders if they’re locked to a keycard, but doesn’t worry— they can just psionically smash their way through if they need to. And if that fails, Awakening will provide.

At least he hopes so. 

“Let’s get outta here,” he says, and starts his way down the hall.