Pale Machine

Ding dong. Elena slams her hand against the doorbell as she pulls her trench coat tighter around her. “C’mon, Simon,” she mutters. She huddled close to the metal door to his private lab, cowering from the wind. The rain pours down in sheets, drenching her to the bone. For once, she wishes it were snowing instead. It was supposed to, according to the weather forecast, but a mere two degrees difference cursed her with freezing rain instead. 

Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong. She hits the doorbell repeatedly, throwing some impatient knocks into the mix for good measure. She fishes her phone out from out of her pocket and checks the time: 7:52pm. Elena knows she’s a bit early, but it’s not like Simon’s getting outside nowadays, so there’s no excuse for his absence. Throwing common decency to the wind, she tries again. Dingdongdingdongdingdong— 

A crash from inside the building startles her out of her assault on the poor button. Just a few seconds later, she hears the sound of the deadbolt unlocking. Elena barely has enough time to step back before the door swings open, revealing Dr. Simon Clark in all his disheveled magnificence. 

“Jesus, man, what took you so long?” Elena accuses as she pushes her way inside. She discards as many layers of sopping clothing as is socially acceptable before taking a good look at the man. His tawny hair sticks out wildly, save for a greasy and flat area on the side of his head. His rectangular glasses are askew on his angular face, hidden behind them are bleary eyes. Elena narrows her gaze. “Did you just wake up?” 

“Um, yes?” His voice is timid. 

She raises her eyebrows. “Simon, it’s nearly eight p.m.” 

His shoulders sag in visible relief. “Oh, thank God.” He motions for Elena to follow him further into the lab. The antechamber is clinical and barren. His collection of scientific awards hangs on the wall, framed in metal and glass. The tiled floor reflects the glow of the ceiling lamps above, burning holes into Elena’s retinas. Two benches line each wall of the room. Their cushions are thin and coated in plastic. “I was up all night making sure everything was working with her life support. I must’ve passed out around dinnertime today? I’m just glad I didn’t sleep for too long.” 

Elena eyes Simon as he types in the passcode to his laboratory. “I’m glad you’re pouring your heart and soul into this, but you do need to get some rest.” She pauses, mulling over her next words over in her brain. “I understand you’re worried, but I don’t want you doing all this cyber shit on my sister if you’re half out of your mind.” 

“O-of course, sorry.” Simon averts his gaze to the floor as the keypad flashes green. Elena feels guilty phrasing it that way, but she knows Simon won’t change anything for his own well-being, only for hers. The two enter the lab. 

The door enters to a platform overlooking the entire chamber. The hum of machinery fills her head, but she can hear the mixed chattering of small animals to her right. A thin metal staircase descends onto the floor below. The lab is a jungle of machines, most of which she’s clueless to their purpose. Her heart pangs at the sight of the rows of animals in cages on the right wall, but she quells her pity. Simon’s cybernetics have advanced enough to the point where more animals are helped than harmed. She keeps an eye out for Bee, the cat with six prosthetic legs. 

Elena remembers her sheer disbelief after first seeing it. “Why the hell did you give it two extra legs?!” she had demanded. Simon had gone on a long spiel about optimum mobility and neural connections and a whole bunch of mumbo jumbo she didn’t understand in the slightest, but her sister had only giggled as the content kitten purred. “She has the stripes of a bumblebee and the legs to match!” Elena swallowed the memory, once sweet, now laced with bitter notes. 

“So, where is she?” Elena descends the flimsy staircase, her hands gripping the rails with a subtle nervousness. She glances at her brother-in-law’s desk as she descends. Despite its large size, the entire thing is filled with clutter. She counts nearly half a dozen mugs of unfinished coffee and countless textbooks, diagrams, and folders. An open textbook lays at the center of the desk between two laptops. Ah, his pillow, she notes with a roll of her eyes. 

“Behind this curtain over here.” Simon motions for her to follow him and she complies. The two dance around a few machines, tables, and cabinets before finally reaching the back of the room. A tall white curtain towers above her, dividing a chunk of the room from the rest. “I wanted to give her some privacy.” 

“Of course.” Elena bites down the nerves building inside her, gently pulls apart the curtain, and steps into the partitioned section. Her sister lay on the bed before her, white sheets pulled up to her chest. Dozens of machines fan out behind her, a semicircle of metallic beeps and hums. Elena’s consumed with the same sickly feeling she felt the first time she saw her in this state. She knows it’s for her own good that she’s hooked up to all the machinery, but she can’t help but see her as a lifeless puppet, loosely strung to something resembling life by cords and tubes and wires. Elena coughs to quell the nausea. She focuses on her sister, the living human beneath the mess of breathing and nasogastric tubes. 

Her short blonde hair falls like a halo upon her pillow. Her skin is near translucent beneath the laboratory lights, revealing a web of veins and arteries beneath her thin skin. Her one arm that isn’t tucked beneath the white sheets grips loosely at its surface. Her wrist and hands are slender, the bones harshly jutting out. Elena blinks back tears. 

It’s been eight months since the car accident that took everything from Julia, save her life. Elena wants to find peace and move on from the tragedy, but more than that, more than anything, she wants her sister back. Seeing her like this, ghastly and on the verge of death, tears her to shreds every time. Despite how bad she’s gotten, Elena knows that Simon, Julia’s husband, had it worse. He didn’t have the same support system she did, nothing to fall back on but his books and robotics. It didn’t help that his field of study held the answer to saving Julia. The guilt of it all ate him alive. Elena doesn’t remember a single day in the past eight months during which he wasn’t either visiting her in the hospital or cooped up in his lab, searching for a solution. Now, he believed he was on the verge of a breakthrough, and after going through all the paperwork (and bypassing some of it due to him being a chief leader in the cybernetics and biotechnology fields), he was able to move Julia into his lab to begin the final phase of his plan: to save her from her coma. 

That morsel of hope now suffocates Elena. She’s so desperate to have her sister back, so close to it, that the fear of his failure terrifies her. She refuses to tell him so; the man already has enough stress to cope with. 

The two idly chat, ignoring the heavy feelings in their hearts in favor of passing the time. At one point, Bee jumps into Elena’s lap, all six of her legs tucked beneath her. They radiate a strange kind of warmth. Elena nearly shudders. She strokes the purring cat as Simon rattles on about some new area of his research. She tunes him out as her gaze shifts towards her comatose sister. A strange feeling twists knots in her stomach. She tries to identify it as Simon leads her out of the lab, their meeting over now that Simon needs to return to work. What is it? Anticipation? That’s likely considering the circumstances. Worry? Perhaps. She didn’t know enough about Simon’s work to determine its success rate. It wasn’t until she turned back to give the lab one last look that she identified her feelings. Bee scampers away, four of her legs motivated by primal emotion as the middle pair dragged across the floor, ducking into the hidden crevices of the lab. Simon doesn’t even react, merely stares up at Elena with blank eyes as he gives her a final wave.  

She was afraid. 

The next week passes in a haze of phone calls, meetings, and appointments. Elena’s job devours every moment of her spare time, and it isn’t until the next weekend that she is able to visit the lab again. Snow sprinkles out of the sky like powdered sugar, coating the pavement in a light dusting of white. The peacefulness of it all calms Elena down. Simon doesn’t get around to texting her much, but every message he has sent to her recently assures Elena of the good progress he’s making on Julia’s recovery. She can’t help but feel a little worried, though. As Simon swings the door open, his bright eyes and dopey grin allow her to relax. 

They exchange greetings as they head down towards the laboratory. “I’m making excellent progress,” Simon explains as he punches the passcode into the door. “Julia should be awake in no time at all. She’ll need extensive physical therapy and supplementation of course but…” He careens down the stairs at a worrying pace, paying no attention to the violent wobbling of the slimsy metal. Elena takes a deep breath and carefully treads after him. “I’m genuinely hopeful, for once.” He turns around to face Elena. A small smile tugs on his lips, the first real one in well over eight months. She returns the gesture, letting the small spark of hope blossom into a campfire. 

The two weave through the mechanical jungle and make their way to Julia’s partition. Simon slides back the curtain without hesitation, revealing a marvelous sight. Julia was no longer a papery skeleton, but a glowing cherub. Her features exude an aura of peacefulness now. From the right angle, it even looks like her lips are curved in a slight smile. She seems… thicker, more robust with the elixir of life. “Holy shit,” Elena breaths out. “She looks so…” 

“Alive?” Simon finishes. 

“Yeah,” Elena agrees, moving towards the bed. “Alive.” Her hand hovers over the sheets. “Can I touch her?” 

“Go ahead,” he seems distracted by a few machines in the corner, his brows furrowed together in concentration. 

Elena lowers her hand to lightly grasp her sister's hand. She’s warm, almost feverish. She gives her hand a light squeeze, swallowing light nausea when her skin leaks like a sponge, dampening her hand with clear fluid. She moves her hand up to her face and cradles her jaw. Julia feels hot and bloated, like a frog left too long in boiling water. Worry starts to brew in her gut as she turns to Simon. “Is this normal?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about it. It’s just an unfortunate side effect of the treatment. She’ll be back to normal as soon as she wakes up.” He doesn’t even look at Elena, his eyes shrouded by his glasses reflecting an LED screen. 

“Alright then.” She moves away from the bed and wipes her hand on her pants. She talks with Simon for a few minutes, but his responses are clipped as he fusses over his devices. A phone call from work gives her an excuse to show herself out. She keeps an eye out for Bee, hoping to give the cat a few farewell scratches, but she’s nowhere to be found. Elena leaves, dual feelings of hope and suspicion clashing in her heart. 

As the next two weeks pass, her already infrequent responses from Simon dwindle to barely breadcrumbs. After two full days of radio silence, she decides to go check up on him. Night falls quickly in the city, and for once, she’s thankful for the snow. The barely present moonlight reflects off the white carpet, illuminating her path to the lab. She carries a takeout bag in her gloved hand, a treat for Simon, who has no doubt been working himself to death. Her hot breath blows clouds into the air as she waits at the door, continuously ringing the bell every thirty seconds or so. “Not again,” she groans, tucking her hands beneath her armpits for warmth. 

She wants to give up, go home, and take a warm bath, but her determination to see her sister outweighs any of those desires. Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong. Finally, after what feels like fifteen minutes, Simon cracks open the door. 

“Go home, I’m too tired for visitors.” His eyes are bloodshot and weighted by dark circles. Grease coats his hair in an oily sheen. A few discolored smudges decorate his lab coat. 

“Simon, open the door,” she commands, voice low. He doesn’t budge. “What the hell is going on?” 

“Just go home,” his voice is weak. “Please.” 

Dread ignites every nerve in her body. “Open the door. Right now.” 

His lowered gaze nearly burns a hole in the floor. After a moment, he slowly and reluctantly swings it open. Elena steps inside without hesitation, but Simon makes no move to unlock the main laboratory door. He instead flops onto one of the benches and buries his head in his hands. 

Elena stands in front of him and drops the takeout bag to his right side. “Food,” she explains. “Eat up and tell me what’s going on.” 

He forces a weak smile of gratitude onto his lips and quietly opens the bag. After taking a few spoonfuls of the soup, he pauses. “It’s not going well.” 

“Clearly,” they both pause. “Is she…” Elena trails off. 

“She’s still alive,” he assures her. “Just not in great condition. I’ve been doing everything I can but… things are still uncertain.” He swirls his spoon in his soup, spinning some unknowable pattern. “I don’t want you to see her like this.” 

Elena clenches her fist as tears threaten to well in her eyes. She wants to be angry at something, but she can’t bring herself to make that thing Simon. She knows more than anyone else how hard he’s worked to save her sister, how many sacrifices he has made. Elena lets out a weighted breath. “Okay,” she relents. “I won’t visit her today. But,” she adds, raising her finger pointedly, “you have to give me daily updates on her condition in return. Don’t ignore my texts, otherwise I’ll come knocking down your door again.” 

He sighs. “Fair enough.” 

Elena stays for a few minutes to make sure he finishes his meal before returning to his work. As she stands up to leave, bones now sufficiently warmed for her trek home, Simon grabs her arm to stop her. 

“I promise,” he says, voice stoic, “that I’ll save her. No matter what.” She raises her gaze to his, seeing the ice-cold resolve in his eyes. 

“All right.” She gives his shoulder a squeeze. “But as much as I love and miss Julia, I care for you too.” She hoists her bag over her shoulder. “Don’t work yourself six feet under.” And on that final note, Elena heads into the night, the cold wind biting her face. 

Elena doesn’t know what she expected from the “daily update” texts, but it definitely wasn’t the brief snippets she receives: strange today, making progress, nothing new. She wants to tear her hair out in frustration at the ambiguity and refusal to answer any follow up questions, but he’s technically fulfilling his end of the bargain, so she can’t complain. A couple days pass in this fashion, then a dozen more. Just as she starts to grow impatient, a single text sets her mind alight. 

You should come over. 

Elena drops everything to fulfill his wish. She tells her boss that she has to leave due to a “family emergency” and charges into the setting sun. A snowstorm is starting to brew in the December sky. She pulls her coat tighter around her and trudges through the mounds of ice. She starts to lose visibility as the white flakes spin around her in a dizzying whirlwind. Taking nearly twice the time she usually does, she finally manages to find the door. She slams her clenched fist against the doorbell, fingers too frozen to unfurl. 

Thankfully, Simon takes less than a minute to answer the door today. She surges inside and slams the door closed behind her, fighting against the roaring wind. A small pile of snow follows her in, then slowly melts on the tiled floor. She sheds her outer layers and tosses them on the bench. 

“What’s happening?” she asks, voice hoarse from the cold. Simon wordlessly leads her to the lab door. An uneasy feeling builds within her, every nerve and instinct telling her to turn around. Her eyes flick down to the keypad, where she watches Simon punch in the code. 2, 5, 4, what was that last number? She shakes her head, trying to shove her fear away. Everything would be fine. She’s going to be okay. But no matter how hard Elena tries to quell her worries, she can’t get those numbers out of her head. 

It’s unusually dark within the lab. The overhead lamps are shut off, but the LED lights from the machines and the occasional lamp strewn throughout the room provide just enough light for Elena not to trip over herself. It’s quiet today, save for the dull thrum of machinery that shakes her to her core. They round a corner and Elena is met with the sight of the curtain. It’s the only part of the room fully illuminated. The white fabric glows in the darkness. Behind the curtain are silhouettes of various forms. She knows most of them to be the life support machines that kept her sister alive, but… The mechanical hum grows louder as she draws near. It sounds rhythmic, almost. Like breathing. 

Something was wrong. 

Simon finally breaks the silence. “I saved her.” 

“What did you do?” she whispers, a tremor in her tone. Her body is frozen, she wants to run, but fear keeps her rooted to the spot. 

His eyes are empty as he slowly draws back the curtain. “I saved her.” 

That thing was not saved. 

It is wet. And bulbous. Pale, near translucent. Large. It towers over her, a tumorous lump of oozing flesh. She’s surprised it didn’t peak over the curtain. Large metal spikes erupt from the jelly-like flesh. Many, many mechanical legs to keep the thing upright. Her eyes rake over the monster, seeing countless technological instruments embedded within the thing. The humming grows louder as the thing begins to stir. 

“Oh, she’s awake again,” Simon notes, a crazed look in his eyes. He grins maniacally. “Aren’t you glad to see her?” 

Elena can only look on in horror as the thing spins toward her, metal legs scuttling and drawing sparks on the floor. She looks up at the two eyes that look back at her. Baby blue eyes that she hasn’t seen open since her sister’s death in that awful car wreck. 

Death. Because her sister died on that day, she realizes now. 

Bloody rage fills her veins as she looks into the eyes that this thing stole from her beautiful Julia. 

“Isn’t she amazing?” Simon’s voice is filled with disgusting awe. 

“Julia wouldn’t have wanted this.” 

“Well, she hasn’t killed herself yet, so…” he trails up as he pushes his glasses back up his nose. “She must be satisfied.” 

“That isn’t Julia.” 

“Same DNA, neural composition, some connections lost but… It’s still her, despite the form.” His gaze goes flat as he flicks his gaze towards Elena. “She’s a bit hungry, though.” 

The implication of the statement shoots through her heart. She takes a few shaky steps back. “I need to go,” she cries, choking back a sob. 

“I tried to feed her some groceries, the animals, but it’s just not enough.” He trembles as he stares down. “I’m sorry.” 

Elena turns on her heel and begins to sprint, but the whirrs and clicks and squelches barely lab behind her. She screams as she rounds a corner. The thing slams into a cabinet and topples it over. It wastes no time reorienting itself and charging after her, metal legs cracking the floor. She trips over a wire and tumbles onto the floor, face slamming down with a crack. She ignores the shot of white-hot pain and the warmth spilling down her face, rolling over just in time to dodge the sharp spike that nearly impaled her. Elena scrambles to her feet and resumes her flight. 

She stumbles up the rickety stairs, screaming as the thing rips the flimsy metal up with its pinchers when she’s only a few steps away from the top. In a panicked frenzy, she grabs onto the metal railing and watches as the staircase topples to the floor beneath her. The thing reaches its claws up to take another stab at Elena, but she hoists herself up just in time. She barely takes a moment to breathe before throwing herself at the door again. Locked. Her head spins as she struggles to remember the passcode, acutely aware of the monstrosity behind her. 2, 5, 4… 8? The light flashes red, as the thing’s hooked legs weave through the bars on the railing. 2, 5, 4, 2? Red again. The thing draws nearer. She can barely see the keypad through the tears that swim in her vision, but Elena refuses to give up.  

She guesses again. 2, 5, 4, 7. The light flashes green and Elena immediately rips the door open, barreling through just in time to dodge another blow. The thing squelches itself through the narrow door frame in pursuit. Elena turns back to take one final look in her sister’s eyes and is met with a metal spike through her chest. She barely registers it at first, then the pain flares unlike anything she’s ever felt before. She tries to scream but her lungs won’t fill. Elena topples back onto the snow, her blood blossoming in the snow around her. Cold and crimson. The pain starts to ebb away as she slips into darkness, the thing that was once her sister slowly dragging her back inside.