Monday, November 2, 2015

Unsharpened Pencils (Douggy, 1)

"I'm sorry Mr Fhurr, but you're firing blanks. You're being expelled from the program. Unfortunately, with your record and resistance to the program, we can't commute your sentence."

"First, it's Doctor Fhurr, and second, what do you mean, blanks?"

"If you're really a doctor, you should know exactly what it means."

"I'm not that kind of doctor."

"Look, Fhurr, you're a prime example of exactly what this program is designed to combat: infertile, dried up husks with no posibility of reproduction, regardless of the science and bio-engineering involved. Your genetics are so barely holding together, it's only thanks to millions of already spent tax dollars that your aren't more cancer than human being, and there's no chance in hell we could get a clone out of you, let alone splice your DNA with someone else's to make a baby."

"Fine. So I'm expelled from your farm. What do you expect me to do? Sit on my ass or waste away in your rotten basic rehabilation games, waste of bandwidth that they are?"

"No, actually, we don't. Your access to rehad is revoked too; we're well aware it doesn't work on you. I gyess you're just too smart for us."

Douggy beamed, until the medic reached through the bars and yanked him against them, his neck twisting painfully at an odd angle.

"That was sarcasm you idiot. No, we have no intentions of letting you waste away, or giving you surplus time alone in your head figuring out more ways to buck the system. Karma was just biding its time while you were claiming position as a top-tier scientist, bumbling your way through trying to save the world on someone else's coattails. No, you're being put to work."

Douggy glanced at his hands, already quivering despite his age and medical regime, visious arthritis taking control. "You're going to work me to the bone, is that it then? To the labor camps!"

"And more proof that you're dumber than you look. No, you're being given educator-level access to TEACH."

"And what, just share my hard work for nothing?"

"You forget yourself, Mr Fhurr. This isn't just a baby farm. This is also prison. The whole point is making you do things you don't want to do, and since you're refusing to get better, the least we can expect is to get some usefulness out of you while you enjoy the protected atmosphere of not being let out into the real world where the animals will eat you for being slow and weak. Also, solitary; no mixing with the general population; if you need a present, a reason to cooperate, that should be enough for you."



"I won't do it."

"You'll do as you're told, Mr Fhurr, or we'll use the science that does still work on you to make you do it. Shall I prep surgery?"

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