Ravenstory - Chapter 3

After some waiting, James was guided through the sparse and cold-feeling light-grey corridors of the Zenith complex by a pair of men. One whose clothing and overall behaviour made him out to be an average deskjockey. An engineer, maybe, or a computer operator. The other, however, walked with a quiet confidence which, along with his uniform, made it quite obvious he was a guard. James was lead past banks upon banks of doors leading to peoples' offices, labeled R&D areas, all of them with ID-scanners at the doors.

Not a word was uttered between them as they meandered their way to wherever it was James was being lead. Any questions James asked were given abrupt and uninformative replies, even the more casual attempts at making conversation, like discussing the horrid smog levels which had been plaguing the city more recently, or sports. Zenith's complex seemed increasingly cold. All work and no play.

Eventually, after reaching a core elevator and descending to what seemed to be the bottom of the complex, judging from the illuminated elevator panel, James was guided down one final set of very plain passages. Very few doors and their scanners broke up the corridors here - presumably the rooms in this area were sizably larger than on the level he came from. Those doors which could be found down in the basement of Zenith's complex looked to be quite heavy and in no way attempted to hide the fact. Large sliding bulkheads, with brushed steel surfaces.

With a melodic chirrup from the ID scanner, and a soft pop as mechanical seals were released, the final door in this particular corridor began to open slowly and smoothly, in response to the presence of the two employees. Beyond the receding door lay a reasonably expansive and incredibly clean-looking brushed-metal room, obscured slightly by the transparent perspex airlock doors which prevented further access by the trio. In the centre of the otherwise empty room lay a large, dimly-glowing pit. Inside the pit, a reasonably large metallic ring slightly narrower than the pit itself sat there supported by three motor-drives, each attached to a thin 'pillar' erected against the wall of the pit. A pair of bulky, multi-jointed robotic arms were mounted on the inner track-like ring, presently motionless but apparently capable of moving around its circumference freely.

As the trio entered the cycling perspex-doored airlock and finally the main room itself as the airlock completed its cycle, James let his eyes begin to explore the room properly, catching a last glimpse of the computer-jockey as he entered a darkened control room to the left with a brief chirrup of an ID scanner. James' eyes began to wander again, paying particular attention to the dull blue glow which seemed to be emanating from the deep bottom of the pit.

"Remove your clothes, sir", came the stern voice from behind and to the side of James as the guard interrupted. "Watches, piercings, removable implants. Do you have any non-removable implants of any kind?"

James turned and shook his head to the guard, somewhat surprised at the command even though he expected that he'd have to get undressed for the operation. This just didn't seem like the ideal location for surgery. James timidly mouthed the word 'No' in reply as he began to strip down, removing the jacket and shirt he'd been wearing for at least a day or two now, shoes and socks, and then with some hesitation his pants and underwear followed, dropped onto the chilly floor in an untidy heap.

"Now step into the centre of the pit", boomed a voice over a hidden PA system, causing both James and the guard to turn their heads towards the control-room. "You will not fall." James didn't respond for a few moments as he tried to comprehend just what the disembodied voice meant. "You will not fall", repeated the voice, firmer this time.

James turned to notice the guard giving him a stern look now, and took a few tentative steps towards the dull glow of the pit until he stood at the edge, just above the inner ring. Gazing down, the pit seemed at least four metres deep and just as many across. A fall would probably break at least one or two bones, especially if he hit the far wall of the pit. After giving the control room and the guard one last glance, James closed his eyes and cautiously stepped out..

And fell.

But didn't hit the ground. He felt as though he were still falling - he certainly hadn't hit the ground yet. When he opened his eyes, James saw that he appeared to be hovering with his head just below the top of the pit, nicely centred and perfectly upright. Below him was at least a two metre fall, and James didn't dare move his limbs or head in case he fell the rest of the way. As he floated there, nauseated by this feeling of falling when he didn't appear to be moving at all, James could feel some slight caress over his bare body which was presumably caused by whatever strange device was causing him to levitate.

"Please close your eyes and hold still. We're beginning the operation now", came the unemotional voice over the PA.

James watched with some curiosity and apprehension as the inner ring began to traverse down the three vertical rails of the pit with a soft mechanical whine, stopping at a height not far above his feet. Once in place, the pair of rather mean-looking robot arms began to slide around the track-like ring itself until both were facing towards his front side, each 'aimed' at one of his legs. -Click- went a mechanism inside the left arm, then the right. A soft hissing sound from both. It was only now that James realised that each of the angular, boxy arms had a round opening pointed towards him, each like the barrel of a large-calibre firearm.

They fired simultaneously with a loud double-'pock', causing James to reel in pain and convulse in mid-air as he felt their projectiles impact his thighs. Within milliseconds James began to lose feeling in his legs, as he watched the two guns rapidly pivot and reposition themselves on the ring, with vapour smoking from their barrels as the ring smoothly elevated to around the height of James' abdomen. -Click- -Click-, and more hissing.

With his eyes transfixed on the two robotic guns leveled at his arms, James didn't see the two squash-ball-sized 'paintball' shells begin to melt into and slowly engulf his numb legs, first as slender black 'veins' coursing down his legs as the fluid invaded the fast-moving bloodstreams beneath his skin, and then soon after as a dark black 'bruise' seeping outwards from each of his veins and arteries to claim the flesh around them.

Spreading down his thighs, his calves, his feet and right to the very core of his two legs. Into his now-useless muscles, his fatty tissue. Even his strong bones and cartilage. Spreading up towards his hips, too - a little slower than the nightmarishly quick invasion further along the extremities. As the infection of the fluid began to reach the surface of the skin once more, it did so with a slightly 'wet' sheen to it. And, now fully corrupted by that dark and evil fluid, whatever it was, James' legs began to lose their solidity, and change.

The robotic guns fired again. And James began to scream.

With less material to deal with here, the fluid found the task of claiming James' arms even easier, and began to seep inevitably inwards towards his torso, just as the black slime which had claimed James' legs began to conquer and corrupt his lower torso and abdomen via the bloodstream, which pumped even quicker now in fear and only made things worse.

James was just barely conscious to feel the last four numbing shots, all fired into his chest, which helped speed the process along and ensure that there would be enough material for both his torso and head as he struggled with his useless body in mid-air. Just as the black fluid advanced disturbingly rapidly into James' skull thanks to the fast-moving carotid arteries, it also began to infiltrate his genitals, seeping into his testicles and corrupting his seed, along with all of the other tissue which made up James' body. All of it, except his brain.

As James' blackened and slightly wet body floated above the pit, completely immobile, the robotic arms retracted to their initial position. The ring elevated back to the inner lip of the pit with a soft hum of machinery. James began to feel something faint within the all-invasive numbness in his body. Almost like his skin was crawling. Like ants swarming over him. Was it his sensory-deprived mind making things up now that it lacked any sensory input from anything, or something else?

The black fluid was rewiring the interface between James' brain and body, firing captured nerves at random in testing but still denying James movement or true sensory contact. As this went on, James' skin really did begin to crawl. The black flesh and skin of his corrupted arms began to sag, stretching inexorably towards the bottom of the pit. In doing so, James' arms began to thin out and draw more mass from his torso and in turn his legs as the fluid began to fan outwards. It spread horizontally too, patiently forming into a pair of sickly featherless wings, each some twelve feet across. As the slick black wings spread down from James' rapidly disappearing arms, they also attached their 'bases' to James' torso sides, anchoring there in a more birdlike fashion.

James' feet and legs - though it was debatable whether they were still his - began to reform while the transformation of James' arms continued. As toes melded together, the feet also split in two and began to form a pair of 'clawed' talons from each 'foot' - or at least, the slick combination of fluid and flesh which both were comprised from. A third talon oozed and took shape behind each heel. Ravens' feet, black and semi-glossy. Something else began to shift too. James' torso and new-grown wings demanded more 'material' from the rest of James' fluid body, and drew it From his increasingly ravenlike legs. Tailfeathers began to droop from the small of his back as slender strips of the fluid, fanning out to form a more cohesive tail-shape as they reshaped.

As the transformation continued inexorably onward, James felt his chest puffing out and reforming. More birdlike. His face too began to stretch - horribly contorted as the black fluid pulled and pushed mass forward to form a hard, chitinous beak, which in turn displaced his birdlike eyes slightly. James' head continued to change, absorbing his ears into the black shapeless mass as it shifted to something more like that of a large raven's head. Short textured 'feathers' began to form over James now-birdlike body - a final detail to complete the transformation from human into something which couldn't be further from human, something cool and rubbery to the touch, glistening slightly in the light - as James began to regain control of his senses.

James wanted to scream again. With uncoordinated and frantic flaps which would shame any ordinary newborn bird, James - now not even the bird he wanted to be - managed to push himself far enough that he fell to the floor beside the pit, taloned 'feet' hanging over the edge. Still flapping uselessly against the floor, James began to make his first few squawks and screeches with his now-alien voice. Struggling, fighting to try and escape this horrible body inside which he'd been trapped. It was his body, once, but now James wanted nothing more than to be rid of it. This wasn't what he wanted. He struck his beak against the hard, cold floor, trying to break his beak off in a berserker rage. Maybe it was just a mask? Or an illusion? Virtual Reality had progressed enough that it was almost indistinguishable from the real world. Many lived and died that way, addicted to their own perfect little pocket-realities. Everything since his awakening in that loungeroom could have been faked. The cheetah was certainly proof of that. What a fool he was to think it was all real.

But if this was a mere illusion, there was no apparent means of escaping it. James was a monster now, an oversized mockery of a raven, in a virtual reality which seemed all too real. Exhausted, James gave up his struggling and put his head to rest on the cool floor beneath him. But the world wasn't done with him yet. As the guard approached James' body, the plexiglass airlock doors hissed open.

"Congratulations, James, you're a raven now", spoke the impeccably-dressed cheetah as he padded towards the guard and James' sprawled body. James felt like spitting, like lashing out at his host and destroying him for what he'd done. But James felt too tired, too weary to fight. Too awkward in his new body. "I know what you are thinking. This isn't what you had expected, or what you had hoped for. But I must explain.

"The discount I gave you. In part it was because of your occupation, yes. But moreso it was because we have been assisting a collector of wildlife. Special wildlife", spoke the cheetah, with an emphasis on the word 'special' which disgusted James further still. "Guard, fasten his ankle-tether. You see, James, this collector has funded a great deal of our research. The collector's only request was that we allow them to purchase certain creations from time to time. What they pay is substantially greater than your little contribution and, I'm afraid, Zenith works only for the highest bidder.

"But it won't be all bad. You'll be cared for well. And while your flesh and feathers may be something more like a supple rubber now - a little quirk interest of our collector which we often provide for - and you might never fly due to your rather un-bird-like physiology.. At least be content in the knowledge that you'll know what it's like to be a real bird existing in today's world. They're all captives, James. Every one of them."