Soul Survivor

         Amy casually washed her hands in the cracked porcelain sink, watching blood spiral down the drain. She knew she should feel gut-wrenching guilt at what she had done; she should feel something, anything. Turning off the water she dried her hands on a dirty towel hanging from a lopsided hook on the wall. Dropping it to the floor she looked into the mirror.

         It was an unusual sensation, like watching someone on television. She did not know the person looking back at her. Cold dead blue eyes stared back. Blood had splattered that person's face; her blond hair was matted with it. Some of the red liquid had dripped between her breasts and under her shirt.

         She disrobed in an orderly fashion, carefully folding each item as she removed it, and stepped into the shower.Thinking about what she had done to him; she had hoped to provoke some kind of response within herself, but could not even feel disappointed at failing. She lathered the soap and forced a smile to see if that would help, though she already knew it wouldn't. Washing didn't take too long, and she stepped out onto the bath mat. She took a towel from the hamper, dried off, dropped it to the floor and walked out into the apartment.

         Blood was everywhere; she had really made a mess. Peter's torso still lay in a heap on the rug. His limbs were scattered around the room where she had flung them. She sighed to herself, an automatic response to a forgotten emotion. How had it come to this? She remembered having feelings, she had loved Peter once. She had gotten pleasure from his jokes; even boredom was lost to her now.

         Peter had lasted a long time, tears filling his eyes trying to plead with her. The gag in his mouth had kept the screams muffled. Now his dead eyes stared accusingly at her. She had done the most horrible things to him. She had kept thinking that a little more would stir feelings within. She had almost felt pity for him near the end, almost.

         She had felt nothing for two weeks, no matter how wonderful or heinous the act. Emotion tantalized her from the edges of her memory, almost there but not quite. Her brain knew which feelings to feel, but her body refused to feel them or was it her brain that refused to feel them. She didn't know exactly how it worked, or didn't work in her case.

         Methodically she studied the room, taking stock of what assets were available to her. She started with her pink knapsack, which had once been her favorite color.  She took some clothes from her drawers, careful to pack only essential items.

         She paused while holding a silky camisole; she remembered when Peter had given it to her. It had been a wild night of lovemaking. She frowned trying to remember the bliss they had shared that night. It was like a fluttering butterfly hovering just out of reach. Even her frown was more of a reflex than the result of any emotion. She could almost sense it but then it was gone.

         She dropped the camisole to the ground and headed to the kitchen. Amy took some food from the fridge and crammed it in her pack along with a few cans of pop. She proceeded to turn on the gas for the stove without lighting the burner. Walking to the bedroom, she dressed in one of her playful outfits. A short skirt and tight top that read 'If looks could kill you'd already be dead'.

         Once she had giggled at the slogan, but the irony it now held did nothing for her. Panties were a waste of time, and she no longer felt the need to cover herself. She only dressed so as not to attract too much notice.

         She lit a candle and placed it on the floor. Walking back into the main room she closed the door behind her. That should allow enough gas to build up for a large explosion she thought as she walked out of the apartment. Carefully she locked the door and headed for the elevator.

         The rickety elevator descended slowly as she tried to force her eyes to tear.  They were dry as could be, she couldn't even get one. She stepped out into the cool evening air, it felt moist on her skin, it would rain soon she thought. The night was quiet; it must be late for the streets to be so empty.

         She hailed a cab, which smelled of sweat and pine trees. The back seat was covered in a thick coat of grime. She tossed her bag in and slid across the seat. The cabbie was a dirty man with a few days growth. His eyes wandered between her legs and a grin came to his lips. She sat back and let her legs open a little more, unconcerned with his leering looks.

         “Where to sweet thing?”

         “Airport.”

         “Right away sweetness, you just sit there and enjoy the ride.”

         She thought back to two weeks ago, the experiment. Nothing had seemed to have gone wrong; all of the results had been as expected. She had checked the readings herself, and there were no anomalies. She hadn't noticed anything wrong herself at the time, though there was the lack of joy.

         Once she realized that there was a problem, she had approached it in a logical scientific way. She ran a battery of tests, brain scans, everything. She compared her readings before the test to those after the test. The only difference she had discovered was a slight discrepancy in her weight. A matter of a few grams, nothing significant, probably due to perspiration, or evaporation.

         The world government had certainly been excited about her results and full testing for military applications was already underway. She knew that now was a crucial time for the technology. She decided that it would be best to take a vacation, lest anyone discover her condition. She had left the office three days ago and was due to be away for a month. She had arranged to have everything transmitted to her P.A.C.

         At that moment her P.A.C. beeped notifying her of a transmission. She looked down at her wrist and thought about a display screen. Within seconds the display popped into existence slightly above her arm showing the incoming message. Dragging one long pink fingernail through the semi-transparent image she scrolled down the message.

         'Dr Ross; that rep from the military called again, they are having trouble getting sync lock between the pods. He said they tried everything included with the documentation but the system won't go active. He wants an answer tonight or their scrubbing the project.'

         She had already anticipated there would be problems, but obviously the military scientists were not even trying to understand the technology. If they had bothered to read the information she had provided, then even basic knowledge of the device would have yielded the answers they sought. She could not say these things to them, nor could she tell them they were idiots.

         With the tap of her nail near the top of the screen, a small translucent keyboard began glowing perpendicular to the display. She typed in her message quickly, while the cab jostled along the quiet street.

         'You have probably been working to get the secondary pod synchronized with the primary, but it works in reverse. Try adjusting the frequency modulation of the primary unit to match the secondary, then you should have some success.  Please feel free to contact my office for any further assistance. Sincerely Dr. Ross.'

         Amy selected the correct address and sent the message. With a thought she closed the keyboard and display.

         “That's some fancy hardware you got there. That holographic display is something else.”

         “It's new; I just got the upgrade last month. Are we almost there?”

         “Not yet sweet thing, but don't you worry, I'll have you there soon enough. You rich or some kind of politician?”

         “Scientist.”

         “Wow, pretty and smart! What brings you out at this time of night?”

         “Business.”

         “I see. I would figure a cute little number like you would be out on the town instead of working at this time of night.”

         “No, I don't have fun.” quietly to herself she added, “Not anymore.”

         “Well, I guess that's why you get all the nice toys. Me I got one of the old ones, with the display mounted in my arm.”

         He held up his arm for her to see the black display embedded in the meaty flesh just above his wrist. She nodded her acknowledgment of his display.

         “Don't let the display fool you though, I upgraded the input system to voice recognition, and the processor is new as of last year. I just find that the shitty display stops people from wondering what else I got. Some of my customers aren't as law abiding as you.”

         She laughed inwardly; she was probably the sickest person to ever ride in this man's taxi. If he knew half the things she had done to Peter he wouldn't have been looking at her in that way. He would probably piss himself and run to the nearest cop.

         A short while later the cab pulled to a stop at the airport.

         “That'll be ninety two dollars sweetness.”

         She paid him and went into the airport. The flight was just boarding and soon she would be far away. It was unlikely the military would notice any lack of emotions in their soldiers. If they did, it would probably be considered a perk.  Soon all the soldiers would be like her, uncaring monsters. She had invented a teleporter, who knew that it would strip people of their very souls.