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Part
2: Blood & Rhetoric
Section
2.6: Will NOTES: All
sections of Part 2 take place immediately before Normal
Again.
All song lyrics in Part 2 are from "Psycho
Killer," Talking Heads, 1977.
Psycho
Killer,
Qu'est-ce que c'est
fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away
The nerd is quite happy now. He's pacing and prancing about jerkily in front
of the cage. Still talking. It's possible he may never shut up. Spike tries to
pay attention. He's shivering with weariness. There's a strange tingling sensation
throughout his body. Feels like all of his nerve endings are crawling on him
like insects. After-effects of the shock, he guesses. He's dizzy and nauseous.
Not much new there but it’s all heightened, worse. Not sure how much longer
he can stay upright. He's got his back to the wall, letting it hold him up as
much as it can. Still, the room keeps tilting around him, threatening to knock
him over. He needs to sit down. Lie down. Rest a bit.
Doesn't dare.
The git has finally gotten back to his little pain conditioning tirade.
"…and since you knew what to expect, you started getting used to it,
am I right? You started accepting the pain as part of your life. Expecting it,
even. See? Pain conditioning! You get used to it enough, anticipate it
enough, and it becomes a part of who you are. And if you're smart at all, you
start to realize that you still have free will."
Warren stops for a moment and looks appraisingly at him. "You aren't completely
stupid, right? I mean, you do realize that you've always had free will, right?"
Spike blinks, trying to keep him in focus.
His captor sighs and resumes his frenetic pacing. It would be hell of a lot easier
to stay focused on him if the bugger would just stay still for a bit.
"Spike, buddy, even now you have free will, you know. You make the decisions
for yourself. 'Do I do the smart thing and do what Warren says, or do I do the
incredibly stupid thing and NOT do what he says, thereby suffering the excruciating
consequences.' It's a pretty much a no-brainer. Ha, get it?"
Spike wipes a hand across his upper lip again. His nose has long since stopped
bleeding but it doesn't hurt to try. Warren has made a joke so Spike exhales
in what he hopes will pass for a laugh. It does. The lecture continues.
"…like, come on, I'm sure there must have been a few times when it
was worth the chip firing to hurt somebody, am I right? You knew what to expect… you
weighed your options, and you accepted the consequences. You still have that
option. But you won't use it. Wanna know why?"
The shaking is getting worse. The fatigue is too much. His body won't be capable
of holding him up much longer, wall or no. Three bags of blood in… how long
has it been? Weeks? Months? Years? It's not enough to sustain him. Not enough
to allow him to stand up even as long as he has been. The jolts from the chip
took what little strength he had. Made him feel even more disoriented and hollow.
The droning voice of his tormentor is fading in and out. That's not good. Gotta
focus…
"– Hey, I asked you a question!"
"…Wait… I think I… I need to –" His teeth
are chattering. He can't stop the shaking.
"I don't care what you think or what you need. I asked you a question.
Answer me!"
Question. Okay. Must answer. What was it? Focus, dammit… oh! Right!
"Y-Yeah… tell me why.” Got
it. Hopes that's the right one. He presses both
hands flat against the wall behind him to help
balance.
Warren looks disappointed. The chip doesn't fire. Must have been the right answer.
"Because," he goes on, "I'm way smarter than whoever put that
chip in your head. You don't know what's going to hit you now. Hell, even I don't
know if you can handle it. You're just a prototype anyway. The only thing you can predict
is that the pain's gonna be worse than you've felt before. Try to get used to
that. And when you do… I’ll just up it a notch or two. I mean, really,
Sparky, it's just a good idea to do as you're told. You go ahead and think it
over. I’m sure you’ll do what’s right. Just remember, I totally
own your ass."
The pacing stops. He's being stared at. Was there a question? Something expected
of him? He's not sure. The figure in front of him is weaving like a serpent.
Flickering like a candle flame. Spike feels his legs slide out from under him.
Feels his body hit the floor. Not good. Supposed to be standing. Sure
to be punished… just… needs to rest…
Warren looks down at the unconscious prisoner thoughtfully. "I’m a
god," he mutters. “Cool.”
He kicks the nearly empty blood bag past the barrier. There's not really even
enough left in it to leak out. Still, nothing wrong with showing a little mercy.
Smiling to himself, he makes his way to the surveillance room to find out which
of the guys fell asleep on guard duty this time. He picks up one of the super
soakers on the way out. |
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