Cleanup Crew (Rudy's Pt. 2)

Some burdens must be borne. The public cannot see. The public cannot feel. It is our responsibility to do these things. Thus speaks the Auburn Rose. 

Transcript

Agent Tau reporting in. Most recent dimensional infestation has been quarantined from the public and cleanup efforts are underway. With the crew we’ve got out here, we can expect to render things back to normal in no more than a week. As always, I will be filling out tri-daily reports on the matter in case things progress, although, all considering, it’s almost certainly not going to. This feels about as open and shut of an anomaly case as I’ve experienced in all eight of my years here. 

Of course, I can’t say that with absolute certainty, just as, well, none of us can. The essence of the job prohibits that. Say, if we were bumbling around in a completely deterministic universe (deterministic in the sense that we with our current level of technological sophistication could make sense of), there shouldn’t be anything like this. In fact, in case Gunther failed to file his preliminary filings (which, if I know the man, he certainly has, forgotten, I mean), then I guess I’ll do his part, too.

By the order of the eternal sentinel, watchful is his eye (seriously, why on earth do we still include this?), I have seen the unseen. By the possibility of all possibilities, I have watched the world contort and burn. By my heart and by my bones, I have put out the fire, I have mended the bones, and made all whole.

What we have here is a class G anomaly. Mildly disruptive, proven murderous, but largely inert. The perturbation exists as a violent plant-like growth which has spontaneously erupted in a local cafe in the small town of Santa Eugenia. Ground mineral and atmosphere analysis displays nothing out of the mean, demonstrating that the growth is either in complete symbiosis with Earth’s habitat, or simply does not interact with it in any meaningful sense at all. While crews have been observing it, the growth has not expanded in any way, even to the degree one might expect a plant to grow in a few hours. All measurements of the thing demonstrate it to be inert at the moment, and of no active danger to personnel or the wider environment. Unless something changes in the anomaly that we cannot track from the outside, we expect the only further trouble we have from its existence is whatever unrest may have stirred up in Santa Eugenia regarding its presence. Standard hallucinatory dosing has been initiated to get the entire town to believe some other nefarious thing is at play other than the spontaneous generation of matter.

But, yes, this anomaly is class G, even with its low current risk. Our census of the town reveals six of its residents are not in their usual domiciles or workplaces, a number which corresponds perfectly to the number of human silhouettes found smothered in vines in the cafe itself, plus the living straggler we found in a car parked outside. This parity could, of course, be a coincidence, but, considering how most of the anomalies we’ve encountered to date have been hostile to humans in some fashion or other, I feel it is safe to presume that we do indeed have five innocent deaths on our hands. 

Five. Not much compared to the total of twenty-odd-thousand we’ve been running since the organization’s inception, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it gets my blood boiling a little bit. 

The growth itself is a dark green to gray bramble, studded every centimeter with short, sharp thorns. We are running tests on the thorns at the moment, but, given the fact that we found a man completely incapacitated but not dead at the scene, a man whose shoes and pants were cut open in patterns similar to that which could be made by the thorns, we feel it’s safe to assume that there’s a potent neurotoxin lingering around in there. I’ve gone ahead and suspended incineration until we can be sure that the toxin won’t go airborne, so the budget’s mainly getting blown out by all the actors I’m having to dispatch to pretend to do road work. All those pipes we had to blow up to make the charade more convincing aren’t going to be cheap, either, that is if we decide to compensate the local government (which, I mean, we should. This place is run down as all hell.) 

Anyways, the greatest source of info I expect from the anomaly is the incapacitated man. His identification and records label him one Tony Armstrong, the town’s only prosecutor. Extrapolation says he’s nothing exceptional, but he’s probably intelligent enough to get some recounting of the situation which will allow us to pinpoint the anomaly’s entry into our world. That is, of course, if the neurotoxin we presume is in his blood hasn’t permanently damaged his brain. He is in transit to headquarters as I speak, but personal intuition tells me he shouldn’t stand for interrogation for a couple of days. 

Agent Tau, doing two jobs at once. Signing out. 

Darkness. 

Rattling. 

Where are we? 

(Silence)

Yeah, I know. I didn’t expect you’d actually know. I mean, come on, if I didn’t, what were the chances you would? 

(Silence)

Okay. That was a bit unwarranted. But do you remember anything different? Did we pass out?

(Silence)

No, no. It wasn’t a dream, remember? That whole thing was real. If it hadn’t been real, we wouldn’t be able to talk to each other. Loud mouth would be mediating everything between us. We’d be in a bed or something if we had just woken up. We wouldn’t be jostling around. 

(Silence)

Yeah, I see that sliver of light, too. We’re not in an ambulance, are we.

(Silence)

Woah, ease up on the language. Now you’re the one who’s being unwarranted, aren’t you? So we’re being kidnapped, I guess?

(Silence)

Well, what are we supposed to do about it? We had a hard time doing stuff like walking or opening doors. Do you think that suddenly we could become a superhero through the power of willpower and friendship or whatever? No. We are being kidnapped. There is nothing we can do. But maybe that’s good. 

(Silence)

No, hear me out. If we’re being kidnapped, that means we’re in a car, right? That probably means that there’s a person behind the wheel, right? A person who saw that… oh.


(Silence)

Yeah, I have no idea if it’s good or bad. And speculating on it isn’t going to help, either. You think if we manage to ball up our fists and pound against the hood of trunk, someone will notice us and help us? Someone less likely to be a bastard looking to dissect our body for organs?

(Silence)

Well, it’s worth a try, I guess. Come on. Yes, hands like that. No, tighter. More powerful. Now move them up. Fast!

(Silence)

And I can’t hear anything either. 

(Silence)

Try again. Yes. Again. Again!

(Silence)

Yes, maybe we’re going nowhere. No reason to destory our hands. Not now. Not yet. We’ll sleep, we’ll wait. 

(Silence)

No, he’s not waking up. I wish he would. It’s not like he’ get us out of this situation either, but I miss him. I miss his stupid little self. 

(Silence)

Yeah, I’d miss you too. I just thank the heavens that if you were gone, there wouldn’t be any me to miss anything.

(Silence)

But you’ll be the last to go in any case. Does that frighten you? I would’ve thought it’d been me that disappeared into the void first. But turns out it was him, the intermediary. But I’ll never perish alone. YOu’ll…

(Silence)

Oh. Oh, sorry. You really don’t have to do that. We’re almost breaking the bones in our hands, and the trunk’s not budging. It’s real, real sturdy. Something meant specifically for kidnapping. Nobody will notice either way.

(Silence)

Don’t put it like that. You’ll be the only one they notice died. That’s when they’ll sign the death certificate and carry out the will. Me? The thing that we always said we treasured most, the thing that divided the animal from civilization? I disappear all the time. Every moment we did something stupid, something cruel. The world is too small for all those things. 

(Silence)

Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought any of that up. I shouldn’t have rationalized our caffeine addiction. I shouldn’t have let our main self get accustomed to the staidness of our old life. I could have convinced him out of all of it if I had tried hard enough. But I didn’t. I’m sorry. I could have gotten us out of the circumstances that created this situation, and I failed. Unequivocally. 

(silence)

Quit the pounding. It’s hopeless. For now. Let the situation metabolize. I’ll find a way out of this, I promise.

(Silence)

Why yes indeed, I have proved myself to be a failure and a blowhard. But what’s your plan? Continue banging on the trunk until our hands are a bloody pulp. Correct me if I’m wrong, but we kind of need our hands to do things, like eat, and work, and successfully take a shower. You know, that kind of stuff. 

(Silence)

Yes, and that, too. So stop it. We’re in a bad situation. I’m an idiot. You're a moron. But maybe they’ll be okay.

(Silence)

Yeah, it’s a bad bet, but, I mean, come on. Is it really more likely that we’re being dragged off by the cartel, or by some secret government organization? Really, any criminals would’ve seen that horrific plant and peed their pants. It’s not worth it to them. For whom would it be worth interacting with that thing, anything in its vicinity? 

(Silence)

You’re getting it. So it’s open to possibility. We might get the good, even. We might wind up on some type of witness protection program and get a brand new life in tropical paradise. Can you imagine that? Somewhere other than Santa Eugenia?

(Silence)

Oooh, don’t raise my hopes. But they might. They might be able to bring him back, too. So stop pounding. Stop murdering our fists, and rest.

(Silence)

It’ll be okay. That I won’t promise, because I seem to be on a losing streak, and I don;t want to jinx it. But it’ll be okay.