Algon and Paluma

I am Xura, one of the personnel assigned to the Mind Control Unit here at Hurla. Mind control is a necessary function of our small stations in the Walgo Sector.  There is a lot of misinformation on this controversial subject, but for our purposes it is an essential function and without it, we would not be able to maintain our mission here at Hurla. 

It is complicated on Hurla since those who are sent here have been sentenced by the Supreme Command on Chaxavac (chaz-a-vac) and the sectors oversee protection and communication.  In the past Chaxavac was under constant siege due to its abundant resources required for daily existence.  While the indigenous inhabitants, the Biolums, like myself are not war-like, we have become very vigilant with our resources and protect them with our lives.  Most of the time on the Walgo Sector is quiet as we are considered part of the “frontier” quadrant. 

We biolums are a very advanced species through our use of mind and socio-emotional controls.  As infants, the doctors implant a small circuit under the skin that is connected to a main computer that keeps our minds and impulses under control.  Since the implementation of Zonerac inner conflict and impulsivity have been in complete check.   I know a lot of my colleagues complain about Zonerac, but the alternative can be chaotic and cause a great disruption in our well-run society.  Where once there was a lot useless emotion was wasted on such things as anger, bewilderment, jealousy, and even love, we can now bypass all of that unnecessary emotion. 

Zonerac can predict behavior.  While some of us Biolums would prefer the “old ways” when we oversaw our impulses and thinking, I feel that Zonerac has been a godsend and has kept order in our sector.  Okay, there was one exception, but we are not allowed to talk about it, but we do anyway.   If I press this button right here, I can disconnect from Zonerac for ten minutes.  It is risky, but who can resist the story of Algon and Paluma.  

“Keep ya hands behind ya back.” The guard pushed a young lad into the cell.

“Keep ya hands off me.” He growled.

“Prisoner 111 is now in place.” The guard called out as the bars were electronically locked into place.

The implanted sensor began to send an electronic impulse through his whole body, and he began to vibrate.  I have been told this can be excruciating.

“Zonerac is not pleased with your behavior.  You will undergo some behavioral modification until you are fit for duty.” The lawyer explained through the bars.  His crime had been to deface a building with a painting of a lady who was sitting with a half-smile on her face.  She had no eyebrows.  At his hearing he said that it was once one of the best-known portraits known to mankind, but he was told that we are not allowed to replicate artwork from an extinct civilization.

“But it was so beautiful.” He said in his own defense.  As it turned out the portrait was painted over by the urban control and the building returned to the sameness it was intended to be.  “Have we forgotten what beauty is?”

There are some Biolums who struggle with the controls used by Zonerac, call it a defect in the circuitry so that even in the pursuit of perfection, we do not always achieve it which is why Algon was brought here to Hurla.  One thing I forgot to mention is we use a behavioral modification program that is quite rigid and demanding to correct the glitch that somehow got into the circuitry in the first place.  Many times, the prisoner does resist, but through a series of rigorous behavioral modifications we are able to correct the malfunction.  We may have been able to rehabilitate Algon if it wasn’t for the admission of Paluma.  That’s when the real trouble started.

On the day of her arrival, I found Algon laying face down on his cot. “What’s going on, Algon?” I asked innocently, but then he opened one eye, which was about all I could see, and the blue marble stared a hole in me for a moment in disbelief.  His voice rose like the collision of a pair of celestial bodies.

“How do you think I feel, moron?”  He asked as he slowly sat up still glaring at me. “I’ve been run through a series of very painful electrical rehabilitation modules.”

“Sounds dreadful.” I gasped, “Why don’t you do what they are asking you to do?”

This seemed to make him even angrier, “I do what I do, because it keeps me from nuts up here.” He tapped his forehead with his finger.

“Zonerac does not allow us to do that.” I pointed out.

“Yeah, I’m kind of getting the message.” He sighed.

“So what are you going to do?” I put my hands on the cold steel bars.

“I’m gonna continue to resist until they kill me.” He closed his blue eyes and lay on his back. “I will not give them the satisfaction that this computer monolith is going to control my behavior.”

“Hey Xura, don’t waste your time on this one.  He’s not one of us to begin with.” The guard tapped me on the shoulder and when I turned I could see his pudgy face and his dull dishwater eyes scan me over. “He’s one of the Jellitons. Sometimes we can’t rehabilitate them.”

“Shame.  He seems like a nice fellow.” I tried to smile, but the guard shook his head.

“Who is she?” I heard Algon ask when he was mopping the floor.  Wearing a nearly skin tight jumpsuit, Paluma sauntered by giving Algon the once over as the guards took her to Rehabilitation One Room.

“You may call me Paluma.” She put her finger under his chin, “These gentlemen here are taking me to a room to teach me a lesson.”

“No physical contact.” The guard pushed her forward with a control stick.

“You will regret doing that.” She hissed at the guard.

“Another Jelliton?” I asked.

“And damn proud of it.” She gave me a half smile.

“One of my kind?” Algon nearly laughed.

“That circuit in your arm is programmed to give you extreme pain if you should decide to make physical contact.” The guard explained.

“Pain?  It just might be worth it.” He smiled.

“Get these floors clean.” He commanded and Algon leaned on the mop before putting it into the bucket. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked sitting next to Algon waiting for their weekly review by the supreme commander, Zogue.

“I think we miss so much without physical contact.” He leaned close to Paluma, their lips no more than a few inches apart. “I think physical contact is worth any pain these morons can inflict on us.”

“I’m not in favor of pain.” She shook her head, her almond-colored eyes never broke contact with his. “What would it be like if we did not have these circuits?”

He chuckled and scratched his chin; he had never considered such a thought.  The circuit was about six millimeters beneath his skin, deep enough so that you could not see it, but you could feel it.  Yes, you could always feel it.  Everyone had it. Jellitons were given their circuits two days after their capture, when all the processing had been completed. Algon made the medical staff fight for control of his arm and managed to punch a couple of them in the mouth.  The sedative froze every muscle in his body so that he soiled himself as he went deep into his own consciousness.  When he awoke, he showered and was given a gray jumpsuit that would identify him.  The lasers they used to implant his circuit still throbbed beneath the clean white wrapping.  He wanted to remove the wrappings and rip the circuit right out of his arm at that moment, but as his intentions processed through Zonerac for the first time, the machine, feeling his impulse, dispensed enough sedation that he spent the rest of the afternoon as drunk as a knute.  In his stupor, Algon saw the heavily forested landscape which he tried to escape their patrols, but they dropped a net on him from a hover aero craft that filled the skies near his home. He fought like a wild animal when they finally sedated him. 

Now this beautiful female Jelliton was putting ideas in his head, bad, evil, forbidden thoughts.  She began talking to him in their native language, but then it was if her mouth had been fused shut.

“You are forbidden to speak in your own language in this place.” One of the guards warned her.  As he walked away, she put her hand into Algon’s only to have a repulsion control abruptly terminate the physical contact with a jolt of electricity. 

“Our behavior is controlled by Zonerac. Anything that is forbidden is instantly corrected.” Algon told her as she rubbed her wounded hand.

“I may not get used to it.” She sneered.

“You will.  I fought it and I have the scars to prove it.” He thumped his head against the wall behind his chair. 

“We used to crave physical contact.” She said moving her head toward him.

“I still do.” He sighed.

“Do you find me attractive?” She smiled her lips inches from his ear.

“I find you extremely attractive.  If we were on our home planet, I would ravage you.” Algon admitted and turned his head toward her.

“Really?” She smiled, her satisfaction of being desired by Algon was very powerful, she leaned over and put her lips against his.  She never felt the blow to her head.

When she opened her eyes hours later, her head was throbbing wildly.  She was lying on her cot.

“Your action is under review.” A computer monitor just outside her cell explained. “Physical contact is strictly forbidden on Hurla.”

She could not focus her eyes as her head hurt too much. Her memory, somewhat disturbed by the sudden conclusion, told her that Algon wanted physical contact with her, she could tell by the tenderness of his lips, the dilation of the pupils of his eyes, the acceleration of his heartbeat matching hers.  Her frustration of the interrupted kiss would linger in her mind, but that stupid Zonerac would interfere again and again. 

The next day they were both on wall washing duty.  She asked about the blow that ended the sensuous kiss and he told her that Zonerac had been alerted.

“So Zonerac did this?” She asked with her eyes wide and her shoulders drawn back that made him smile before answering with a quick survey of who was where and then decided it was safer if he answered in his own language.

“It was the guards.” He told her and just like that his jaw was locked, but by now, he knew what to expect and it was worth the penalty.  He wanted to touch her so badly it was hard to resist the impulse, but he knew if he did not the punishment would be severe, too severe.

They sat together in the cafeteria at lunch as the guards kept a close eye on them as it was becoming obvious what they wanted to do.

“So Algon, what brought you to this wonderful place?” She asked, careful not to touch his hand or any other part of him for that matter.

He told her of the story of how his cousin had been rummaging through the ruins of the previous civilization and came across this portrait of a woman in a fairly nice frame.  He could not take his eyes off this artifact and was glad it had managed to avoid degradation.  His love of this wonderful picture made him display her in his graffiti art, as he called it.

“It’s against the law.” She smiled.

“It didn’t matter, her half smile, her simple illuminated skin, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.” He sighed, “I wanted to recreate this woman.  The man who painted this must have loved her very much.”

“You certainly do value love.” She wanted so bad to touch him, but she knew what would happen.

“I do.  Love is missing and I miss it so much.” Tears began to form in his eyes. “They have not captured the best parts of what makes us who we are.”

“What do you mean?” She leaned closer and the guards took a step closer as well.

“We are Jellitons because of our passion, our love.” He closed his eyes and a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Love makes us foolish and weak.” She quoted the rule.

“I’d rather be foolish and weak than like what we have become.” His voice became hard and the guards took another step closer.  Showing angry emotion was as bad as showing love. “Look at this place.  See how these Biolums are and they want us the same way. Our home used to have beings that were passionate and felt the love all around them.”

“And they went extinct.” Paluma added.

“I would rather go extinct.  This is my idea of being extinct.” He snarled.

“If we rid ourselves of these circuits, we could become what we were meant to be.” She picked up her tray and began to walk toward the portal as he followed her.

“How?” He put his tray down with the others.

“I think I have a way.” She smiled and winked. 

It was not easy to get to the control room.  It was not made for actual people to be in, but Paluma had her plan.

“I was picked up for breaking and entering.” She said as she was able to open a door that was heavy and locked with a cipher lock. “I learned from my uncle who was able to open any lock made.” 

Another door opened before them.  It had a computer screen, but with a flash on the keyboard and a quick security code she had obtained from an unknown source, they found themselves in the control room.“We will not tinker with any of these controls since we could wind up taking a trip that will not end well for this unit.” 

She smiled.“Then why are we here?” Algon asked, looking all around at the blinking lights that seemed to be everywhere

.“Hiding.” She put her finger on her lips. “I found out that this is one of the few places we can hide from Zonerac.”

“What?” Algon’s blue eyes got wide.

“Yes, I too was amazed when I found out.” She laughed.

“How?”

“You ask enough people, one of them is bound to blab.” She put her hand to his cheek.

“Right here, right now.” His voice but a harsh whisper.

“No, not so fast.  As much as I would like to, we must rid ourselves of the circuit that controls our lives so that we may have the freedom of which you spoke.” She kissed him on the cheek, but his hands drew her to his own lips.  She pulled away.

“If now, this will be our only chance.” She put her finger up.

“I thought you said we were hidden.” He shook his head wanting her even more at that moment.  He would paint her picture on the entire side of the Mind Control building in the Central Zone.  He would climb the barb wire and the electric fence to do it. 

“They will find us.  They are looking for us now.  But it will take them a while to think to look here.” She removed a knife from her inside her jumpsuit.

“Where did you get that?” He asked.“You are better off not knowing that.” She took the knife and sliced into her arm.  Her blood marked the line before she cut another line and another until she was able to pull her skin away revealing the circuit.  The pain she was feeling must have been beyond endurance, but she removed the circuit and held it triumphantly in her fingers.  How small it seemed, how insignificant.  How could something so microscopic control one of the most complex computers ever created the brain with its infinite possibilities, unrestrained creativity and an endless potential for compassion that no other assembled computer was capable of.  She dropped the circuit to the floor and before it could even bounce, she crushed it under her foot.

She wrapped her wounded arm in gauze she found in a first aid kit hanging on the wall. 

“Now it’s your turn.” She handed him the knife.  It was cold and emotionless as he held it over his own arm.

“Just enough to remove the circuit.” She held his hand, and he felt the blade push against his skin, “We will be able to touch each other whenever we so desire.”

He pushed the blade into his arm.  The pain was instant and intense, blood began to run out like a red river, dripping on the floor.  Another cut and his stomach got weak.  His head began to swim with another slice.

“You are almost there.” She said as her eyes went wide.

The final cut and his knees buckled; his skin flapped open as his eyes rolled back in his head.  She reached down and grabbed the circuit from his arm.  She sat him down on the floor as he vomited.

The guards rushed in, lasers drawn and obliterated them in a second just as she embraced him. 

Please keep this story between you and me.  I never said a word.  Heaven knows what they would do to me if they knew I told you.  Sure, glad she told me about this room.  Even though I was the one who told the guards where they were hiding in the first place.