The Cello

Theramin kept a determined pace, ignoring humans and his own kind alike as he passed them in the halls. He averted his eyes as he passed the incubation unit. The blue-lit, liquid-filled globes containing the half grown human fetuses never failed to turn his stomach. He rounded one more corner and blew into the main processing sector, authority blazing.

It took him half a moment to locate the characteristically unaffected Martenot. He sat at his desk, magnification lenses pointed at the microscopic project before him.

Theramin avoided the rows of whirring computers that constituted the remote abilities of the humans’ brain implants, and positioned himself across the desk from the man.

“Martenot, I need good news.” He stated tersely.

“We only lost two humans in yesterday’s storm,” The man mumbled, not bothering to look away from the indiscernible bit he was adding to a computer chip with a pair of tweezers.

Had there been a storm yesterday?

Theramin clenched his jaw. Ninety two percent of the time Martenot infuriated him, and he didn’t doubt the feeling was mutual. It was for the sake of the diminutive eight percent of the time when he was either sleeping or making him wealthy that he suffered through engaging him in conversation.

“The update!” He shot at him, “Is it ready for testing?”

It seemed that his sudden response had made the man misplace whatever had been on the end of the tweezers, because he sighed in frustration, set down his tools, removed the lenses and finally looked up.

“There are flaws that will take time to work through, Theremin.” He said.

“You’ve had time.”

“You are correct. I simply have not had enough of it.”

“You promised me results this week!” Theremin growled.

“Your application of the term ‘promise’ is loose at best. Combining nature and machine is not a predictable science. ” Martenot replied calmly.

Theremin leaned down, planting his palms on the table.

“You have the tendency to treat me like one of your imbecilic human pets, Martenot. My mind is in tact, so, by the universe, quit this ambiguity. What -- exactly -- seems to be the problem with my update?”

Finally showing the first signs of irritation, the man across from him pulled his mouth into a thin line.

“Let’s review your requests, shall we?” He said, an edge to his words. “You want humans who have no desire but to obey, correct?”

“Total control. Yes.”

“In order to achieve that, we would have to deprive them of emotion entirely, correct?”

“Obviously.”

“Therefore, what you ask of me is to take the human out of the human.”

There was a momentary hesitation from Theramin, as he considered the claim.

“So what then?” He said, straightening and folding his arms over his chest, “Maybe we shall have to think of another name for them? I’m still waiting for the difficult part.”

“This is a delicate game, Theremin.” Martenot replied stiffly.

“It’s that moment, you fool!” He bellowed, “That split second that they can feel things before the anti-serum overrides it! The hole! The gap! THAT is what always threatens in the edges of my sanity!”

He reached over the table and grabbed the man by his suit.

“Fix it.” He hissed, and held the man’s unflinching gaze.

With maddening genteel, Martenot slowly pushed his hands away, never breaking eye contact.

Infuriated, Theramin spun around and blew out of the room.