John Krygelski - The Aegis Solution

Hearing his words, she instantly remarked, “Cool! Okay!”

They finished covering the short distance to the turnstile, and Matt turned to Tillie and softly said, “You take care of yourself in there.”

Her eyes swept across the panorama of the desert which surrounded them, as she answered, “You take care of yourself out here.”

He leaned forward and they again hugged, this time with much less intensity, and parted after only a few moments.

Tillie turned and stepped into the opening, gripping the horizontal bars of the gate. She looked back over her shoulder and smiled at him. As she walked through, pushing on the bar, he heard, over the clacking of the ratchet mechanism, her final comment to him. “Be seeing you.”

Feeling saddened and a little empty, he turned and walked over to the officer, who simply stated, “Told you.”

Clements studied the man’s face for a moment before swinging his gaze back to the now empty turnstile and answering, “No. You were wrong. I’m glad I did it.”

By the time they turned and began walking to Matt’s truck, the other marshals were already walking to their guard posts.

“What did you whisper to her at the last minute before she went inside?”

Shrugging, Matt replied, “Nothing. I just told her where I hid some candy bars.”

The man’s stare showed his doubt regarding the veracity of the answer, but he said nothing. They arrived at Matt’s truck and shook hands.

Then the officer, sensing something in the contractor, assured, “You did a good thing…building this, I mean.”

With a sigh, Clements responded, “If it hadn’t been me, it would have been somebody else.”

Realizing he had not touched the right nerve, the marshal opened the door to Matt’s truck and said, “Take it easy.”

“You, too,” he answered, and the man walked away. Before climbing into his vehicle, Matt turned and took one last look at the huge complex he had built, his mind visualizing all of the nooks and crannies, all of the dorm rooms, kitchens, gyms, and the myriad other components within the confines of the walls. He also conjured, in his mind, the image of Tillie wandering through the cavernous public areas, and he wondered how she felt.

As he stood next to his truck, he suddenly felt a fresh gust of wind coming out of the west, seeming to push him away from the turnstile entrance. Although it was a hot day, he felt a chill in his spine. Shaking it off, he gave one last look at the complex and climbed into the truck. The engine roared to life, and as he drove away from what had been his project and his home for almost two years, his mind focused on his wife, Lisa, and he pressed down harder on the gas pedal.

Tillie had no idea where the other people had gone. She assumed they must have immediately fanned out to explore their new permanent home, since not even one person was in sight all the way down the long entrance corridor. She continued walking, following the directions given by Matt, until she found the main electrical room. Opening the door, she quickly found what she was looking for, glad that no one else had yet bothered to check out this area. She grabbed it and returned to the main hall. It only took a moment for her to orient herself before she struck out to find the dormitories.

“Time to pick my new place,” she said out loud, her voice echoing back at her.

Elias watched the first accumulation of snow on the window sill. His eyes took in the intricacies of the slowly accreting pattern, but his mind was several thousand miles away, in a place where snow was as rare as the basic tenets of civilization. That corner of his heart, which once felt the almost childlike tinge of joy at the sight, was now empty. No, not empty. Filled. Replaced by a dense, dark sludge which allowed nothing like joy or happiness or mirth.

Such was his condition: a status which had stubbornly cohered to him for more than two years, like a disease with no known cure. In a sense it was a disease, a pernicious malady with vile symptoms and pervasive effects. Yet this blight was not brought about by some malignant, microscopic organism, but by a single man, a man who had shared the nameless, faceless anonymity of an abominable mutated virus. But that was all they had in common, for a virus, no matter how execrable its influence, was unthinking, non-sentient. No conscious motive could possibly be ascribed to its actions. This man, on the other hand, coldly plotted the most flagitious of acts, knowing fully and relishing the tragedy his deeds would bring down upon others.

Obsession was far too temperate a concept for describing how Elias felt about this wretched beast. Hatred, too savorless. It could truthfully be said that he was utterly consumed with the desire to find this abomination of a human being. Diminished not in the slightest over the past two years, Elias’ thoughts had constructed scene after scene where he identified him, hunted him down, and patiently, arduously meted out…not justice, for that would be impossible…not revenge; in fact, nothing he could conceive of would satiate that thirst. No…his efforts would be bent solely upon restoring a minuscule increment of balance to the world, correcting an asymmetry precipitated by the never-ending succession of vile deeds perpetrated by this lusus naturae.

There were others, to be sure. For he had recently learned the identities of the others who played a part in this horrific act, others who had an, as yet unscheduled, appointment with Elias Charon. But they must patiently wait their turns.

With a sound more closely resembling the bleating of a goat than what it was, the ringing of a telephone, Elias was shaken from his fugue.

“Yes,” he answered, his tone flat.

“Elias, Faulk.”

“What is it, Richard?” Elias was aware that his question conveyed irritation, but did not care.

“I need to see you. Can you come in?”

“For what?”

“It’s" — Faulk paused for a moment, clearly attempting to phrase his next statement carefully — “a special project we need you to do.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“Well" — Elias’ erstwhile friend tried a soft chuckle to break the obvious tension — “me.”

“Why did you say ‘we,’ Richard, if you meant it was your idea?”

Ignoring the question, the man stated, “Elias, this job is perfect for you. I can’t think of anyone better.”

“So you still have to pitch it to somebody?”

The voice on the other end paused momentarily, again in an effort to best frame his answer. “In a manner of speaking. Look, Elias, they want me to take care of this…issue. I simply need to get them to bless my choice, and my choice is you. There are no other candidates, as far as I’m concerned.”

Elias cradled the receiver against his shoulder and looked out at the snow, taking his time before he said, “Richard, you know what I’m working on. I don’t want any damn projects. I just want to be left alone.”

His tone deepening, Faulk began, “I know, my friend….”

“I’m not your friend!”

“You’ve made that clear before. I’m sorry. Bad choice of words. Hear me out, will you? I think this is something you’ll want to do.”

Closing his eyes to block out the whitening vista outside, Elias swiveled in his chair to face the desk. “What is it?”

Seeing the opening, Faulk rushed his words. “I don’t really want to go into much detail on the phone, but it is about Aegis.”

Although he hated to admit it, Elias was startled by the last word spoken. “What about Aegis?”

“There’s something wrong there.”

“No kidding. There’s been something wrong there since the day it opened.”