Descending Road - SPREAD ACROSS THE CHIEF TORTURER’S FACE by Dana W. Paxson

SPREAD ACROSS THE CHIEF TORTURER’S FACE

1562 4D

“He’s alive and ready. How would you like to begin? A little endorphin antagonist?” Progarnes, a man no taller than Tariall but plump, bland and businesslike in his dark-gray jumpsuit, greeted Arlen in the torture workroom, the site of many delicate operations to remove political cancers.

“No. I have a better idea — something much simpler but a little difficult in the beginning. Bear with me.” Progarnes had done good work. Tariall lay naked on an operating table, his eyes closed, his light-brown skin a shade grayer than in life. Circ tubes gleamed a fluorescent red-orange, pumping synthetic hemo into Tariall‘s system to replace his own blood; bundles of neurocable fanned across his body in tangles of blue and aqua and silver; here and there tan dressings marked wounds left when Arlen had flung him at the great sculpted doors in the chamber. Tariall had impacted face-first; his left humerus and right collarbone protruded jaggedly under the dressings.

“Should we awaken him and reset the bones?” Progarnes seemed eager today; maybe he was getting bored with his bedmates. He ran through them like a blade through water.

“No. This is what I want. You won’t have to worry about the bones. Do you remember the wall-sculptures at the bottom of the City, the animated ones that speak?”

Progarnes looked at Arlen with wide eyes. “Oh, yes. But those were done with materials we don’t have. If only—“

Arlen bent down and whispered in Progarnes' ear, then straightened as holy pleasure spread across the chief torturer’s face.

“What an amazing idea! Of course! It’ll take the latest preservatives, but I’ll have it done in ten days. Will you allow me to see him on his first awakening?”

“Doctor, that is a privilege I must keep for myself in this situation. But I have several andro body types to offer you that you will find amusing as furniture and playthings.”

Progarnes' downcast face cleared a little.

“They are of the best appearance, intelligence and sensitivity, deeply aware of everything, docile to a fault, and quite robust. I will keep them for you, in the event I am especially pleased with this work.”

“I assure you the results will be inspiring.”

“Excellent. Keep him unconscious until twelve days from now. I will expect to see him then, and watch him become aware again. That will be worth more to me than any number of broken limbs.” The physics team was waiting for him in the great chamber; Arlen turned and entered the lift. Before the doors closed, he said to Progarnes. “I will return and let you know when to reawaken him. Not him, I should say. It.”

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	SPREAD ACROSS THE CHIEF TORTURER’S FACE 1562 4D “He’s alive and ready. How would you like to begin? A little endorphin antagonist?” Progarnes, a man no taller than Tariall but plump, bland and businesslike in his dark-gray jumpsuit, greeted Arlen in the torture workroom, the site of many delicate operations to remove political cancers. “No. I have a better idea — something much simpler but a little difficult in the beginning. Bear with me.” Progarnes had done good work. Tariall lay naked on an operating table, his eyes closed, his light-brown skin a shade grayer than in life. Circ tubes gleamed a fluorescent red-orange, pumping synthetic hemo into Tariall‘s system to replace his own blood; bundles of neurocable fanned across his body in tangles of blue and aqua and silver; here and there tan dressings marked wounds left when Arlen had flung him at the great sculpted doors in the chamber. Tariall had impacted face-first; his left humerus and right collarbone protruded jaggedly under the dressings. “Should we awaken him and reset the bones?” Progarnes seemed eager today; maybe he was getting bored with his bedmates. He ran through them like a blade through water. “No. This is what I want. You won’t have to worry about the bones. Do you remember the wall-sculptures at the bottom of the City, the animated ones that speak?” Progarnes looked at Arlen with wide eyes. “Oh, yes. But those were done with materials we don’t have. If only—“ Arlen bent down and whispered in Progarnes' ear, then straightened as holy pleasure spread across the chief torturer’s face. “What an amazing idea! Of course! It’ll take the latest preservatives, but I’ll have it done in ten days. Will you allow me to see him on his first awakening?” “Doctor, that is a privilege I must keep for myself in this situation. But I have several andro body types to offer you that you will find amusing as furniture and playthings.” Progarnes' downcast face cleared a little. “They are of the best appearance, intelligence and sensitivity, deeply aware of everything, docile to a fault, and quite robust. I will keep them for you, in the event I am especially pleased with this work.” “I assure you the results will be inspiring.” “Excellent. Keep him unconscious until twelve days from now. I will expect to see him then, and watch him become aware again. That will be worth more to me than any number of broken limbs.” The physics team was waiting for him in the great chamber; Arlen turned and entered the lift. Before the doors closed, he said to Progarnes. “I will return and let you know when to reawaken him. Not him, I should say. It.”