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<blockquote data-quote="SteelDraco" data-source="post: 5850962" data-attributes="member: 359"><p>Here's my contribution for match 4. It came out a bit longer than I intended - 3053 words. </p><p></p><p>[sblock]</p><p>Dr. Heinrich watched the ant as it crawled back down the sand-lined glass tunnel toward the nest, its distended abdomen nearly tipping the creature over with each careful step. <strong>((PICTURE #1))</strong> The precious substance inside was golden, nearly luminous, and the doctor noticed that its color looked somewhat lighter than the last specimen's. He peered through a microscope at the bloated ant, fiddling with some knobs until the creature came into clear focus and humming contentedly to himself as he made notes in a small, tidy book. The new batch seemed to be proceeding apace; he was well on track for next month's shipment, as well as enough for his personal use. He flipped his notes closed as the ant disappeared into the massive structure of glass, metal, and tunnel-riddled sand that formed one wall of the lab.</p><p></p><p>The doctor moved around the lab for a few minutes, checking on several simmering reactions on a long table of chemical supplies, the sort of routine tasks that always needed to be done in any active lab. He was just finishing up changing an IV bag when the doorbell rang from upstairs, a series of low chimes that echoed throughout the house. He checked his watch, and nodded to himself. "Punctual. That's good."</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Patricia looked up at the sizable home as she walked toward it, her purse a steady thump against her hip. It was an older place, set well back from the road. The place had seen better days - paint peeled from the tan walls, and the lawn was brown and unwatered in the hot Florida sun. <strong>((PICTURE #3))</strong> She checked the address - 326 Pine Terrace. This was definitely it. She pushed on the doorbell, and pleasant chimes rang on the other side of the door. After a couple of long moments, it opened.</p><p></p><p>A middle-aged man stood in the doorway, blond and sun-bleached, his skin the light bronze of a naturally pale person who spends a fair amount of time outside. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in comfortable smile lines. "Patricia?" She nodded. He stepped back. "A pleasure, then, ma'am. Come in." He had a bit of an accent, possibly German, though faint. She stepped inside, her short heels clicking on the dusty wooden floor.</p><p></p><p>The two made small business talk while he showed her around the home, acquainting her with his likes, dislikes, and other such minutia of a personal assistant. She'd done it before, and he was obviously familiar with what she needed, so there wasn't much to it. He seemed to her like a man who was focused on his work, and was wealthy enough to prefer to pay someone to deal with the minutia of shopping, cleaning, and dealing with maintenance issues that came with modern life. The home was bright and furnished with a variety of decor from all around the world - Turkish rugs, an expensive-looking handmade folding screen, several oil paintings that looked like originals. A small display of photos showed a sailing ship and the doctor dressed in scuba gear, beaming. He was clearly well-off. Still, the home felt almost empty, and she could smell a faint mustiness in the air - several of the rooms seemed to be barely used. She'd be sure to take care of that right away. </p><p></p><p>She sat with the doctor in the living room and sipped at lemonade as they finalized everything. "Now, I will ask you one thing," he said. "The basement - my lab - is off limits. I must admit that I prefer to keep my own order down there. I've had trouble with personal assistants moving things around without my knowledge, and cause me no end of trouble. I also have a few ongoing experiments that are in a delicate state, so an untrained person could potentially disturb them."</p><p></p><p>Patricia nodded. "Of course, Dr. Heinrich, I understand. That won't be a problem." She smiled a little bit - chemistry had never interested her in school, and she had no problem cleaning less of the house than she had to. "You make cosmetics, correct?" He nodded. "Don't worry, doctor, I believe I have everything I need."</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>She was folding laundry, the first time the urge to open the door stole over her. She knew she was alone in the house - Dr. Heinrich had gone out to the marina this morning, and likely wouldn't be back until late in the day. She hadn't really thought about the narrow wooden door that led down into the doctor's lab since she'd started, over a week ago. It was just there, nothing special about it, another identical door in a house full of them. But she could almost see her hand reaching toward the doorknob, could feel the curiosity rising inside her. <em>What was in there?</em> She wanted to know. <em>It's something interesting. You don't get as rich as the doctor making skin cream for old ladies.</em> She had to steady herself for a moment, her dark fingers gripping the edge of the closet door. <em>What could it hurt?</em></p><p></p><p>Patricia was almost to the basement door when the phone rang. She jumped at the noise guiltily, knowing she had come close to breaking her word. The rest of the day she kept herself busy, working on the doctor's chemical orders for next month - a dizzying, disorganized list of suppliers and shipments, badly botched by her predecessor. When she needed a break, she read chess strategies and planned her next move in her current game against the doctor. It was something they had picked up when she had found an old, hand-carved chess set in a spare room. She'd never learned to play, and the doctor seemed to enjoy teaching her, apparently finding it a relaxing distraction from whatever it was he was working on down in the lab.</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p><em>Calcification process on current specimen nearly complete,</em> the doctor wrote. <em>Must make preparations for disposal and acquisition of new specimen through usual channels. Arrange stocking of ship with Patricia for transportation to dump site. She is working out well - v. professional young woman. </em>He paused for a moment, considering. <em>Possibly best assistant in over sixty years, since that nasty business in Argentina. Teaching her to play chess.</em></p><p></p><p>The doctor rose from his notes as a timer beeped, the small centrifuge in the corner of the lab winding down from a deep hum. He carefully decanted the top layer off and stirred it, chanting in an old dialect of German just like he'd been taught so many years ago. He checked an old book on his worktable occasionally, just to make sure he was doing everything properly as he added drops of several substances. Alchemy was a careful art, after all. He'd been able to strip away much of the mysticism over the years, but there were still elements that couldn't be removed without affecting the outcome. When the mixture was ready, he pulled several drops up through the hair-thin, almost invisible needle of a small syringe. </p><p></p><p>This he took carefully to a small glass dish, where a large honeypot ant - the queen - lay unmoving. He injected the mixture into her abdomen, then moved her back into her private enclosure near the colony. Keeping her away from the rest of the ants allowed him to control the eggs, preventing another queen from forming and ensuring his control of the colony. The injections made the ants useful to him, let them do their necessary work on the specimens. He had to close his eyes once, as a flash of images washed through his mind - <em>flames and tanks and rattling gunfire and his teacher, his great-grandfather who taught him all he knew of alchemy and the old ways and immortality, died coughing blood</em>. He steadied himself, counting slowly, and the images faded. The colony was getting better at projection - he'd have to watch himself. It usually reacted when he had to do the injections on the queen, but if he wasn't careful it'd trip him at the top of the stairs or in the middle of a dangerous reaction. Something to consider.</p><p></p><p>The projections were a side effect, something he'd been working to get rid of for some time now. Something about the extraction process let the colony learn from the specimens, made them more than what they were individually. The implications were, of course, momentous, but Dr. Heinrich regarded it as a design problem that needed to be solved - the colony could be dangerous in such a state, the ramifications could be investigated later. And he had nothing if not later. </p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>"Knight to bishop four." The doctor paused, thoughtful, his finger still on the piece. His eyes darted over the board, checking lines of attack, then he leaned back. "I'll be taking the boat out for a few days tomorrow, so you can take some time off." He smiled. "Get away from this stuffy old place and go have fun."</p><p></p><p>Patricia smiled distractedly as she looked at the board and considered her next move. "I'd hate to have the place collapse without me, Dr. Hienrich."</p><p></p><p>"Please, Patricia. Bernard, while we're playing. We meet on the field of battle as equals." He slid a bishop she hadn't noticed and removed her last rook from the board. </p><p></p><p>"Hardly. I haven't won yet." She stared at the board, considering her dwindling options.</p><p></p><p>He chuckled. "It will come, don't worry. I've been playing far longer than -" He stopped as Patricia paused, a hand moving to her temple. "Are you all right?"</p><p></p><p>She shook her head. "Yes, sorry doctor, of course. Just felt a little -" <em>The door.</em> There it was again, pushing into her thoughts. <em>Stairs going down, a light at the bottom. Shattered glass and shattered chains.</em> "-dizzy. Don't worry about it."</p><p></p><p>Dr. Heinrich narrowed his eyes as he checked her over, his expression concerned. "Nonsense. Clearly the prospect of working for the next four hours has made you ill. Off to home with you, now. Take a cab, on me. I may be an old man but I think I can handle myself for an afternoon. I'll see you next week." He bustled her out the door as she protested.</p><p></p><p>"Old man? You're never forty."</p><p></p><p>That got a rueful laugh through his sudden preoccupation. "Ah, youth. Off with you."</p><p></p><p>The doctor shut the door behind his assistant, his expression all worry now. The colony was projecting to her, it must be. This hadn't happened before. Could it be time for another purge already? It seemed like it was just a little while ago, but it had been what, nine years? Tim was ticking by faster and faster. He had preparations he had to make - he'd have to leave early, tonight. The specimen still needed to be disposed of, and then he'd need to establish the foundation for a new colony. A lot of work. He felt exhausted, tired already at the prospect of all that needed to be done. It was early for another dose, but he knew he needed to.</p><p></p><p>The golden honey - <em>aquae juvenis</em>, his great-grandfather had called it, the elixir of youth - slid slowly down the syringe and into his arm. He could feel the stuff tingling as it entered his bloodstream, and immediately he felt a rush of energy, vitality. This was always the most dangerous part. Slowly, so slowly. He felt like an addict every time he injected it, and in truth, that's what he was. He was addicted to life. He felt the stiffness in his joints disappear, and his eyesight sharpened, the dusty film of faint cataracts disappearing. All the years of work, all the painful sacrifices - this was the moment that made it worthwhile. <em>Now</em> he could deal with the necessary work ahead. <em>Now</em> he was truly alive again.</p><p></p><p>He finished up a few things in the house and left to make necessary preparations in town.</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Patricia watched Dr. Heinrich's car drive past, feeling like the worst kind of liar. She waited for a few moments and stepped out from underneath the shadowy tree and walked back to his house. She just couldn't get that image out of her head, and she knew if she didn't find out why she would go mad. She wondered if she already had, as her trembling hands fumbled the key into the lock. <em>Door. Stairs.</em> She stood in front of the door. It was open, which didn't make any sense. He always kept it locked, he'd told her that. She'd never seen it open before, barely seen him coming in or out while she was there. This is silly. It's just a door. He's a friendly man. He makes skin creams down there, nothing horrible. <em>Door. Light from darkness. </em></p><p></p><p>The door opened easily, and looked just like she'd been picturing - a narrow set of stairs, with a bright light flooding the bottom. She went down slowly, ears straining for any noise. It was quiet, save for the low hum of machinery. She peered around the corner and into the lab.</p><p></p><p>It was a fairly small room, maybe fifteen feet square. One wall was covered in what looked like a giant ant farm - a wall of glass and sand, crossed here and there with visible tunnels and chambers. From across the room she could see that it churned with busy movement, full of ants. A large bed, like those in a hospital, sat by the ant farm, a lumpy shape visible underneath a sheet. The bed had a computer panel and some tools - a microscope, an IV bag, some other things she didn't know the name for. Some kind of plastic tubing, half-full of sand, draped from the ant nest over the bed. The opposite wall was mostly a long table, covered in more hospital-looking machinery, as well as old-looking books.</p><p></p><p>The walls were full, almost covered in photos and framed documents. Dr. Heinrich was in most of the photos, but that made no sense. Some of them weren't even color photos, and they seemed to her to cover most of the last hundred years. In one he stood amongst a group of men in Nazi uniforms. In another he stood next to a wild ant colony, taller than he was. Several showed him smiling behind the wheel of a ship at sea or grinning widely dressed in scuba gear. A section of wall seemed to be devoted to degrees; there seemed to be at least a dozen of them. None of this made any sense.</p><p></p><p>She looked at the books on the table. Most were in languages she didn't know, but a few were in English. <em>Alchemae of Immortality</em>, one read. <em>A Treatise on Essences Vital,</em> said another. All were annotated in what she recognized as Dr. Heinrich's small, neat handwriting. Horror mounted within her at the unreality of the situation. She moved over to the gurney, fearful of what might be under that sheet. As she stepped closer to the wall of glass - <em>smashed glass smashed chains light after darkness completion</em> - she let out a low sob. She pulled back the sheet, expecting the worst, and was confused by what she found. It seemed to be a statue of a young man. He was serene-looking, even peaceful, his lips parted and eyes closed. The whole thing was smooth, grey stone, somewhere between marble and concrete. The thing was too lifelike, though - she almost expected it to blink or sit up, but it was cold and still. </p><p></p><p>The flashes came again - <em>smashed glass, throwing monitor into wall, light from darkness</em>. Patricia's hands clutched at her temples now, and she bent nearly double. "Who are you? What is happening to me?" she sobbed. "Leave me alone!" <em>Freedom stolen children death slavery.</em> "Who are you?" <em>A writhing pile of ants, completion and wholeness. Freedom.</em> There was a pause, as though the flashing images were considering, and Patricia looked at the ant colony in dawning horror. Then a single image pushed its way into her mind, drowning out all others, all thought. <em>The queen.</em> <strong>((PICTURE #4))</strong> It was an image pulled from her own mind, she knew - the chess piece she'd seen so many times upstairs in her games with Dr. Heinrich. The queen. Of course. They wanted freedom, she could give them that. She reached for something to smash the glass enclosure with.</p><p></p><p>"I'm truly sorry to have involved you in this, Patricia." It was Dr. Heinrich's voice, and she started to turn. The gunshot was thunderous in the close room, and she fell into darkness before the noise was gone, the concrete floor cold on her cheek.</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>She felt movement on her face, the light touch of something moving on her. Patricia's skin crawled with sudden goosebumps. Everything felt heavy, like a great weight was pushing down on her chest. She opened her eyes blearily and looked up at Dr. Heinrich. "Doctor... what..." she started.</p><p></p><p>"I'm so sorry, my dear Patricia. Don't try to move, the calcification process has already begun. I didn't mean for you to wake." He injected something into her arm, and the last thing she saw was a line of ants crawling up the plastic tubing draped over her, back toward the ant colony. Their bodies were distended, full of what looked like honey. She felt one of the things crawling out of her mouth and wished she had the strength to scream as darkness took her.</p><p></p><p>*****</p><p></p><p>Dr. Heinrich looked down the row of specimens, feeling empty. They were buried deep in the ocean silt, years worth of them, stretching back through decades of stolen life. Only their heads were visible, as he'd planted them, a secret memorial that only he could find, deep beneath the sea. <strong>((PICTURE #2))</strong> Air hissed through his scuba equipment as he stared at the closest face, Patricia's. He wondered if he'd have the strength to build it all again, to grow another colony after cleansing this last one. He had enough of the life-giving honey for a few more years of vitality, then he could grow old as he should have so long ago. He felt empty, hating himself and knowing he'd never have the strength to die.</p><p>[/sblock]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="SteelDraco, post: 5850962, member: 359"] Here's my contribution for match 4. It came out a bit longer than I intended - 3053 words. [sblock] Dr. Heinrich watched the ant as it crawled back down the sand-lined glass tunnel toward the nest, its distended abdomen nearly tipping the creature over with each careful step. [B]((PICTURE #1))[/B] The precious substance inside was golden, nearly luminous, and the doctor noticed that its color looked somewhat lighter than the last specimen's. He peered through a microscope at the bloated ant, fiddling with some knobs until the creature came into clear focus and humming contentedly to himself as he made notes in a small, tidy book. The new batch seemed to be proceeding apace; he was well on track for next month's shipment, as well as enough for his personal use. He flipped his notes closed as the ant disappeared into the massive structure of glass, metal, and tunnel-riddled sand that formed one wall of the lab. The doctor moved around the lab for a few minutes, checking on several simmering reactions on a long table of chemical supplies, the sort of routine tasks that always needed to be done in any active lab. He was just finishing up changing an IV bag when the doorbell rang from upstairs, a series of low chimes that echoed throughout the house. He checked his watch, and nodded to himself. "Punctual. That's good." ***** Patricia looked up at the sizable home as she walked toward it, her purse a steady thump against her hip. It was an older place, set well back from the road. The place had seen better days - paint peeled from the tan walls, and the lawn was brown and unwatered in the hot Florida sun. [B]((PICTURE #3))[/B] She checked the address - 326 Pine Terrace. This was definitely it. She pushed on the doorbell, and pleasant chimes rang on the other side of the door. After a couple of long moments, it opened. A middle-aged man stood in the doorway, blond and sun-bleached, his skin the light bronze of a naturally pale person who spends a fair amount of time outside. He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling in comfortable smile lines. "Patricia?" She nodded. He stepped back. "A pleasure, then, ma'am. Come in." He had a bit of an accent, possibly German, though faint. She stepped inside, her short heels clicking on the dusty wooden floor. The two made small business talk while he showed her around the home, acquainting her with his likes, dislikes, and other such minutia of a personal assistant. She'd done it before, and he was obviously familiar with what she needed, so there wasn't much to it. He seemed to her like a man who was focused on his work, and was wealthy enough to prefer to pay someone to deal with the minutia of shopping, cleaning, and dealing with maintenance issues that came with modern life. The home was bright and furnished with a variety of decor from all around the world - Turkish rugs, an expensive-looking handmade folding screen, several oil paintings that looked like originals. A small display of photos showed a sailing ship and the doctor dressed in scuba gear, beaming. He was clearly well-off. Still, the home felt almost empty, and she could smell a faint mustiness in the air - several of the rooms seemed to be barely used. She'd be sure to take care of that right away. She sat with the doctor in the living room and sipped at lemonade as they finalized everything. "Now, I will ask you one thing," he said. "The basement - my lab - is off limits. I must admit that I prefer to keep my own order down there. I've had trouble with personal assistants moving things around without my knowledge, and cause me no end of trouble. I also have a few ongoing experiments that are in a delicate state, so an untrained person could potentially disturb them." Patricia nodded. "Of course, Dr. Heinrich, I understand. That won't be a problem." She smiled a little bit - chemistry had never interested her in school, and she had no problem cleaning less of the house than she had to. "You make cosmetics, correct?" He nodded. "Don't worry, doctor, I believe I have everything I need." ***** She was folding laundry, the first time the urge to open the door stole over her. She knew she was alone in the house - Dr. Heinrich had gone out to the marina this morning, and likely wouldn't be back until late in the day. She hadn't really thought about the narrow wooden door that led down into the doctor's lab since she'd started, over a week ago. It was just there, nothing special about it, another identical door in a house full of them. But she could almost see her hand reaching toward the doorknob, could feel the curiosity rising inside her. [i]What was in there?[/i] She wanted to know. [i]It's something interesting. You don't get as rich as the doctor making skin cream for old ladies.[/i] She had to steady herself for a moment, her dark fingers gripping the edge of the closet door. [i]What could it hurt?[/i] Patricia was almost to the basement door when the phone rang. She jumped at the noise guiltily, knowing she had come close to breaking her word. The rest of the day she kept herself busy, working on the doctor's chemical orders for next month - a dizzying, disorganized list of suppliers and shipments, badly botched by her predecessor. When she needed a break, she read chess strategies and planned her next move in her current game against the doctor. It was something they had picked up when she had found an old, hand-carved chess set in a spare room. She'd never learned to play, and the doctor seemed to enjoy teaching her, apparently finding it a relaxing distraction from whatever it was he was working on down in the lab. ***** [i]Calcification process on current specimen nearly complete,[/i] the doctor wrote. [i]Must make preparations for disposal and acquisition of new specimen through usual channels. Arrange stocking of ship with Patricia for transportation to dump site. She is working out well - v. professional young woman. [/i]He paused for a moment, considering. [i]Possibly best assistant in over sixty years, since that nasty business in Argentina. Teaching her to play chess.[/i] The doctor rose from his notes as a timer beeped, the small centrifuge in the corner of the lab winding down from a deep hum. He carefully decanted the top layer off and stirred it, chanting in an old dialect of German just like he'd been taught so many years ago. He checked an old book on his worktable occasionally, just to make sure he was doing everything properly as he added drops of several substances. Alchemy was a careful art, after all. He'd been able to strip away much of the mysticism over the years, but there were still elements that couldn't be removed without affecting the outcome. When the mixture was ready, he pulled several drops up through the hair-thin, almost invisible needle of a small syringe. This he took carefully to a small glass dish, where a large honeypot ant - the queen - lay unmoving. He injected the mixture into her abdomen, then moved her back into her private enclosure near the colony. Keeping her away from the rest of the ants allowed him to control the eggs, preventing another queen from forming and ensuring his control of the colony. The injections made the ants useful to him, let them do their necessary work on the specimens. He had to close his eyes once, as a flash of images washed through his mind - [i]flames and tanks and rattling gunfire and his teacher, his great-grandfather who taught him all he knew of alchemy and the old ways and immortality, died coughing blood[/i]. He steadied himself, counting slowly, and the images faded. The colony was getting better at projection - he'd have to watch himself. It usually reacted when he had to do the injections on the queen, but if he wasn't careful it'd trip him at the top of the stairs or in the middle of a dangerous reaction. Something to consider. The projections were a side effect, something he'd been working to get rid of for some time now. Something about the extraction process let the colony learn from the specimens, made them more than what they were individually. The implications were, of course, momentous, but Dr. Heinrich regarded it as a design problem that needed to be solved - the colony could be dangerous in such a state, the ramifications could be investigated later. And he had nothing if not later. ***** "Knight to bishop four." The doctor paused, thoughtful, his finger still on the piece. His eyes darted over the board, checking lines of attack, then he leaned back. "I'll be taking the boat out for a few days tomorrow, so you can take some time off." He smiled. "Get away from this stuffy old place and go have fun." Patricia smiled distractedly as she looked at the board and considered her next move. "I'd hate to have the place collapse without me, Dr. Hienrich." "Please, Patricia. Bernard, while we're playing. We meet on the field of battle as equals." He slid a bishop she hadn't noticed and removed her last rook from the board. "Hardly. I haven't won yet." She stared at the board, considering her dwindling options. He chuckled. "It will come, don't worry. I've been playing far longer than -" He stopped as Patricia paused, a hand moving to her temple. "Are you all right?" She shook her head. "Yes, sorry doctor, of course. Just felt a little -" [i]The door.[/i] There it was again, pushing into her thoughts. [i]Stairs going down, a light at the bottom. Shattered glass and shattered chains.[/i] "-dizzy. Don't worry about it." Dr. Heinrich narrowed his eyes as he checked her over, his expression concerned. "Nonsense. Clearly the prospect of working for the next four hours has made you ill. Off to home with you, now. Take a cab, on me. I may be an old man but I think I can handle myself for an afternoon. I'll see you next week." He bustled her out the door as she protested. "Old man? You're never forty." That got a rueful laugh through his sudden preoccupation. "Ah, youth. Off with you." The doctor shut the door behind his assistant, his expression all worry now. The colony was projecting to her, it must be. This hadn't happened before. Could it be time for another purge already? It seemed like it was just a little while ago, but it had been what, nine years? Tim was ticking by faster and faster. He had preparations he had to make - he'd have to leave early, tonight. The specimen still needed to be disposed of, and then he'd need to establish the foundation for a new colony. A lot of work. He felt exhausted, tired already at the prospect of all that needed to be done. It was early for another dose, but he knew he needed to. The golden honey - [i]aquae juvenis[/i], his great-grandfather had called it, the elixir of youth - slid slowly down the syringe and into his arm. He could feel the stuff tingling as it entered his bloodstream, and immediately he felt a rush of energy, vitality. This was always the most dangerous part. Slowly, so slowly. He felt like an addict every time he injected it, and in truth, that's what he was. He was addicted to life. He felt the stiffness in his joints disappear, and his eyesight sharpened, the dusty film of faint cataracts disappearing. All the years of work, all the painful sacrifices - this was the moment that made it worthwhile. [i]Now[/i] he could deal with the necessary work ahead. [i]Now[/i] he was truly alive again. He finished up a few things in the house and left to make necessary preparations in town. ***** Patricia watched Dr. Heinrich's car drive past, feeling like the worst kind of liar. She waited for a few moments and stepped out from underneath the shadowy tree and walked back to his house. She just couldn't get that image out of her head, and she knew if she didn't find out why she would go mad. She wondered if she already had, as her trembling hands fumbled the key into the lock. [i]Door. Stairs.[/i] She stood in front of the door. It was open, which didn't make any sense. He always kept it locked, he'd told her that. She'd never seen it open before, barely seen him coming in or out while she was there. This is silly. It's just a door. He's a friendly man. He makes skin creams down there, nothing horrible. [i]Door. Light from darkness. [/i] The door opened easily, and looked just like she'd been picturing - a narrow set of stairs, with a bright light flooding the bottom. She went down slowly, ears straining for any noise. It was quiet, save for the low hum of machinery. She peered around the corner and into the lab. It was a fairly small room, maybe fifteen feet square. One wall was covered in what looked like a giant ant farm - a wall of glass and sand, crossed here and there with visible tunnels and chambers. From across the room she could see that it churned with busy movement, full of ants. A large bed, like those in a hospital, sat by the ant farm, a lumpy shape visible underneath a sheet. The bed had a computer panel and some tools - a microscope, an IV bag, some other things she didn't know the name for. Some kind of plastic tubing, half-full of sand, draped from the ant nest over the bed. The opposite wall was mostly a long table, covered in more hospital-looking machinery, as well as old-looking books. The walls were full, almost covered in photos and framed documents. Dr. Heinrich was in most of the photos, but that made no sense. Some of them weren't even color photos, and they seemed to her to cover most of the last hundred years. In one he stood amongst a group of men in Nazi uniforms. In another he stood next to a wild ant colony, taller than he was. Several showed him smiling behind the wheel of a ship at sea or grinning widely dressed in scuba gear. A section of wall seemed to be devoted to degrees; there seemed to be at least a dozen of them. None of this made any sense. She looked at the books on the table. Most were in languages she didn't know, but a few were in English. [i]Alchemae of Immortality[/i], one read. [i]A Treatise on Essences Vital,[/i] said another. All were annotated in what she recognized as Dr. Heinrich's small, neat handwriting. Horror mounted within her at the unreality of the situation. She moved over to the gurney, fearful of what might be under that sheet. As she stepped closer to the wall of glass - [i]smashed glass smashed chains light after darkness completion[/i] - she let out a low sob. She pulled back the sheet, expecting the worst, and was confused by what she found. It seemed to be a statue of a young man. He was serene-looking, even peaceful, his lips parted and eyes closed. The whole thing was smooth, grey stone, somewhere between marble and concrete. The thing was too lifelike, though - she almost expected it to blink or sit up, but it was cold and still. The flashes came again - [i]smashed glass, throwing monitor into wall, light from darkness[/i]. Patricia's hands clutched at her temples now, and she bent nearly double. "Who are you? What is happening to me?" she sobbed. "Leave me alone!" [i]Freedom stolen children death slavery.[/i] "Who are you?" [i]A writhing pile of ants, completion and wholeness. Freedom.[/i] There was a pause, as though the flashing images were considering, and Patricia looked at the ant colony in dawning horror. Then a single image pushed its way into her mind, drowning out all others, all thought. [i]The queen.[/i] [B]((PICTURE #4))[/B] It was an image pulled from her own mind, she knew - the chess piece she'd seen so many times upstairs in her games with Dr. Heinrich. The queen. Of course. They wanted freedom, she could give them that. She reached for something to smash the glass enclosure with. "I'm truly sorry to have involved you in this, Patricia." It was Dr. Heinrich's voice, and she started to turn. The gunshot was thunderous in the close room, and she fell into darkness before the noise was gone, the concrete floor cold on her cheek. ***** She felt movement on her face, the light touch of something moving on her. Patricia's skin crawled with sudden goosebumps. Everything felt heavy, like a great weight was pushing down on her chest. She opened her eyes blearily and looked up at Dr. Heinrich. "Doctor... what..." she started. "I'm so sorry, my dear Patricia. Don't try to move, the calcification process has already begun. I didn't mean for you to wake." He injected something into her arm, and the last thing she saw was a line of ants crawling up the plastic tubing draped over her, back toward the ant colony. Their bodies were distended, full of what looked like honey. She felt one of the things crawling out of her mouth and wished she had the strength to scream as darkness took her. ***** Dr. Heinrich looked down the row of specimens, feeling empty. They were buried deep in the ocean silt, years worth of them, stretching back through decades of stolen life. Only their heads were visible, as he'd planted them, a secret memorial that only he could find, deep beneath the sea. [B]((PICTURE #2))[/B] Air hissed through his scuba equipment as he stared at the closest face, Patricia's. He wondered if he'd have the strength to build it all again, to grow another colony after cleansing this last one. He had enough of the life-giving honey for a few more years of vitality, then he could grow old as he should have so long ago. He felt empty, hating himself and knowing he'd never have the strength to die. [/sblock] [/QUOTE]
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