Kife
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"Have you ever heard of a Labber before?" The rat asked as she stood on the warehouse roof looking out at the port. Her ruby eyes looked tired yet hard as she stared at the rows of block buildings. Her black leather jacket had been perfectly tailored for her slim svelte frame. Matching buckled motorcycle pants and buckled boots matched the ensemble. She ran her pink furless hand along the short hair atop her head as she glanced at you a moment. "No surprise. Let me fill you in on the secret."
"Four hundred years ago a Genoan Duke embraced the age of enlightenment in a big way. As in declaring long before that German wank Nichezie came along. He thought that all of Italy would rise up against the church. He thought wrong. His rivals and the church stomped him into the ground; literally. The labbers set themselves up in tunnels, cellers, and abandoned places. They called themselves the order of this or the brotherhood of that or the society of whatever the fuck they wanted. And they did science. They did science without the slightest ethical twitch or moral question.
Their science was radical. It was so cutting edge that it went beyond the edge. Their infants were test subjects. Children who survived were workers. Workers who managed to pass tests were failure was liquification became assistants. If you managed to prove your theories, and survive the hundreds of threats then you might join the elite that control the labber research projects. Or you find out you were some one else's experiment and are dissected afterwards. females are breeders. The lucky ones have their eggs harvested. Most aren't lucky. They give birth young and frequently. It's one of their few chances to escape the experiments. Maybe.
You don't leave the hive. You don't question the order. There isn't an 'ethics' or a 'right and wrong'. There is accuracy and efficency. If that means you pay for your experiments by operating on line kiddy porn while blackmailing your subscribers then that is what you do. If that means distributing a new blend of highly addictive 'E' then that is what you do. The means are always justified. And occasionally, just occasionally, some one comes to the conclusion that the means and the ends are both equally fucked up. And so they attempt suicide... by leaving the hive. There were six of us who made the attempt. They were burned, shot, crushed, electrocuted, and liquified.
And me? I'm just as dead as they are. Sure, I got out. Sure, I have some tricks. But someday the warren is going to come for me. They have tech that makes the CIA hard and the NSA shit themselves. And you know what? I still haven't really escaped. I'm still in the hive, feeling the reactions and the instincts and the impulses. I can fuck a crying cub in the ass and not feel an ounce of what you call shame. I rationalize the act, justify it, and enjoy. Because I'm a monster. Just like the rest of the Labbers."
Then she glanced back over her shoulder at you as the neurologic poison finally stopped your heart and lungs. She sighed, rubbing her delicate pink nose. "But I'm guessing that you figured that out all ready. Just thought you should know why."
"Four hundred years ago a Genoan Duke embraced the age of enlightenment in a big way. As in declaring long before that German wank Nichezie came along. He thought that all of Italy would rise up against the church. He thought wrong. His rivals and the church stomped him into the ground; literally. The labbers set themselves up in tunnels, cellers, and abandoned places. They called themselves the order of this or the brotherhood of that or the society of whatever the fuck they wanted. And they did science. They did science without the slightest ethical twitch or moral question.
Their science was radical. It was so cutting edge that it went beyond the edge. Their infants were test subjects. Children who survived were workers. Workers who managed to pass tests were failure was liquification became assistants. If you managed to prove your theories, and survive the hundreds of threats then you might join the elite that control the labber research projects. Or you find out you were some one else's experiment and are dissected afterwards. females are breeders. The lucky ones have their eggs harvested. Most aren't lucky. They give birth young and frequently. It's one of their few chances to escape the experiments. Maybe.
You don't leave the hive. You don't question the order. There isn't an 'ethics' or a 'right and wrong'. There is accuracy and efficency. If that means you pay for your experiments by operating on line kiddy porn while blackmailing your subscribers then that is what you do. If that means distributing a new blend of highly addictive 'E' then that is what you do. The means are always justified. And occasionally, just occasionally, some one comes to the conclusion that the means and the ends are both equally fucked up. And so they attempt suicide... by leaving the hive. There were six of us who made the attempt. They were burned, shot, crushed, electrocuted, and liquified.
And me? I'm just as dead as they are. Sure, I got out. Sure, I have some tricks. But someday the warren is going to come for me. They have tech that makes the CIA hard and the NSA shit themselves. And you know what? I still haven't really escaped. I'm still in the hive, feeling the reactions and the instincts and the impulses. I can fuck a crying cub in the ass and not feel an ounce of what you call shame. I rationalize the act, justify it, and enjoy. Because I'm a monster. Just like the rest of the Labbers."
Then she glanced back over her shoulder at you as the neurologic poison finally stopped your heart and lungs. She sighed, rubbing her delicate pink nose. "But I'm guessing that you figured that out all ready. Just thought you should know why."