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Remedy

Richard E Marion

    Emily Louise Gilmore and Eric Victor Gilmore played the $1 Draw in the State Lottery twice a week. Their weekly gambling habit of two dollars helped them keep the faith. If you don’t play, you can’t win...
    Then they won, small time.
    Five White Balls yielded a little over $100,000 after state and local taxes. Not enough to remedy the latest “severe worldwide economic downturn,” but Emily and Eric could once again afford ice cream, sardines, and footwear.
    “Let’s ride up the shore road,” Eric proposed. He was a tech guy who loved mobility, machines, and cruising.
    “Yes,” Emily consented.
    Their Chevy Malibu was nearly new, and in good shape.
    A war in North Africa was freshly minted. The job recruiters were offering half of the 90’s going rate for temp tech. Things were looking up in the USA.
    They headed North along the coastal route. It was early morning, and the sunrise, tungsten orange, alive, chased the fog away. Eric studied the layered cloud formations unique to the seacoast. He noticed the fragrance of plant and animal life cycles was returning to normal.
    Eric had an uncanny sense of smell. Earlier that month an incident occurred at the waste treatment plant upriver, 40 miles. Eric diagnosed it before it was reported on the evening news.
    Emily and Eric met thirty years ago at a divorced parenting meeting. Eric held firm that Emily “started it” by inviting him to visit her that year.
    The Malibu was approaching the remains of The Diamond State Hospital, around the next bend, Oceanside. It had been closed and abandoned since before Eric was born, although it had aged far less gracefully.
    “It’s haunted, that’s why they emptied it,” Emily asserted.
    “What isn’t haunted, to a paranormalist?” he countered. However, Eric wasn’t as sure as he used to be.
    “Me and the boys, when they were small, went inside one night. I had that little Maglite, before the LED lights came out. Petey saw the hole in the floor and warned me...”
    “You could have killed yourself and gotten arrested for child endangerment.”
    “Both?”
    Emily didn’t dignify his question.
    The shoreline parallel to the decaying structure consisted of severe black cliffs and shiny troubled water. Had the former state home for the mentally and criminally deranged been placed to simplify containment?
    Even though it was against the law, Emily and Eric intended to turn onto the cracked tarmac, up to the rusted chain and fused padlock, and then walk through wild grass and weeds to the Diamond.
    “We can’t go inside, but maybe I’ll feel something, Eric.”
    “It’s daytime, take your camera. I’ll edge inside, not too far. It’s probably too ruined to go very...”
    She interrupted him, “...and get us arrested.” The man was foolish.
    Eric had been drawn to the Diamond State Hospital since he first drove by it. It seemed alive in spite of its emptiness. He wondered if he was a paranormalist like Emily, or maybe worse, an occultist?
    It was still morning, the Malibu cruised, whispering softly and assuredly. Eric pretended it was a Ferrari FF, color Grigio Titanio. He was bad at names and specs but nearly eidetic with sights, sounds, and smells, particularly concerning machines and architecture.
    Diamond Hospital. Four stories tall, red brick faded, it would have been long gone if the state could have benefited from its shoreline. But, due to the threatening rocks and hungry whitecaps, the place persevered, a faded Mausoleum.
    Eric remembered the last time they went past it on the shore road. The building was foreign, and sinister, especially for a Hospital. The construction challenged concise definition.
    The roof, crossed gables, sickly gray, was so frayed it extended tendrils skyward. The North face, vertical, featureless. The remaining aspects were joined arcs, linked dormers, and tall bay windows with leaded panes miraculously intact. An eerie violet blue glowed within, or was it just one’s imagination?
    They were almost there, entering the curve. Emily gasped. Eric was preoccupied with being careful at the bend, and then immediately veering into the abrupt turnoff of ancient tarmac. Somehow, the deteriorating surface felt a little tighter, more solid, and the dust rising up smelled... fresher?
    “Eric, it’s not there. The chain, the lock...”
    Eric stopped his imaginary Ferrari. His eyes followed the dark shadow cast by the looming structure. It wasn’t <>Igone. It just changed.
    “The same size and form factor.” Eric, always the engineer.
    “As if they substituted metal... titanium? and added bullet-proof glass...”
    “Bullet-proof, Eric, what for? To keep the loonies out? Is it that bad these days?”
    “They haven’t confronted us or shot at us. Looks like they deleted the entire place then reconstructed it from modern materials... Or alien materials?

#

    “Hey, it’s lit, the glass is thick or translucent, tinted, probably not even glass, but there’s light in there.”
    Emily forgot all about trespassing or danger and marched. Eric lightly brushed the SIG Sauer at his belt, affirmed the Cold Steel Folder was in his opposite side pocket, and took up rear guard.
    She said, “There’s a little sign on the door. ‘Intuitive Connections,’ what is that?”
    Eric without hesitation made suggestions.
    “Electrical Contractor... Dating Service... Psychic Reader?”
    “OK.” Emily grabbed the door handle, and pulled. It opened. She went.
    Eric did not have time to protest; besides he was backup, was he not?
    The air temperature inside was similar, but smelled different. Actually, to Eric’s keen sense, it smelled of nothing. Not adhesives, cleaning materials, nor even the apparition in the foyer... A woman.
    Attractive. Alabaster flesh, even whiter than Emily. Just a touch of lipstick... or... no? Auburn hair that didn’t come from a shop. She looked so perfect she could not be real. Eric was mesmerized, and a little worried.
    “Lady” moved fluidly, purposefully. She reminded Eric of their granddaughter, Petey’s first girl. Self-assured, wiry strong, dominant personality. Lady Angel was the kind who could break a man’s heart; as well as the rest of him.
    “Emily,” Eric stated the obvious.
    “I see him.” Him?
    There were two. A male with the same sleek physique and presentation as his counterpart, but well tanned, darker. His tailored outfit darker still. Other than gender and shading, the two defined paired perfection.
    Eric appraised the fit and quality of their garments. Pricey – the material did not shine. Nothing about them, or the place was off-the-shelf.
    Emily scanned the foyer, it was quite expansive. In the late Nineteenth Century, it would have been even more impressive, occupying the front third of floors one and two. The flooring, dark hardwood, joined by supernatural artisans, impossibly tight. No carpeting anywhere. Zero wall paintings or photography, only glass and spectacular sky.
    Looking skyward, the ceiling angled up towards the inside wall, a lovely pale blue containing interior windows at the third level, the same violet blue glazing except lighter in shade. For Security? Staff Meetings?
    The Diamond had been modernized and reinstated to its timeless splendor.
    Eric saw plenty of seating areas and the sky shone cheerfully, in spite of the thick glazing. If the place was intended to control and restrain lunatics, they probably admitted them at some other entrance.

#

    “Emily, Eric. Good Day,” Lady Perfection greeted them.
    “Congratulations on the win, thank you for coming.”
    Emily and Eric exchanged glances. Strange, but OK so far.
    Lady continued, “Eric, it’s fine...” as if she was aware of his caution and armament. Probably with Angels... it was not worthy of consideration.
    Lady directed them to one of two doors designated “Aristotle” and “Nietzsche” at the ends of impeccable main counter with phones, computers, all high-end. Bright, healthy, live flowering plants complemented the sleek hardware.
    If this was an asylum, it would be a very nice play to stay and relax a while, if you could leave when you wished. The peaceful and complete silence was a rarity, anywhere on earth these times. How did they manage the acoustics?
    The four entered via the left entry, Aristotle. Inside were the same two doors exactly as expected, a refreshing confirmation of some normality. There was also a pair of rear exits. But to where... the ocean? the Cliffs?
    “It’s late, are you thirsty, hungry?” Lady was getting the show moving, but courteously. Eric saw the lighting was natural, and slightly brighter, as expected on the East wall. It was still morning. Why did she mention <>Ilate?

#

    They sat at a geometrically exact table of clear glass in the center of the meeting area. It sparkled in the sunlight, projecting little errant rainbows on the pale front wall. Crystal, it looked like to Emily.
    Eric had never seen any single solid item this large made of crystal leaded glass. It must have weighed a thousand pounds. That piece wasn’t going anywhere soon, he figured.
    No fingerprints or dirt. Emily flashed Eric the be careful don’t touch look.
    The hosts looked like... “Angels?” Lady asked. Sir provided water in thin, delicate vessels of glass, with that violet blue tint. Not a single dust mote anywhere. On the crystal table were four laptop computers, likely sync’d for presentations.
    Emily picked up the glassware, and drank. She gazed at Eric. He studied her a moment, she still looked OK. Eric was thirsty.
    He went for his water. The glass was cool, smooth, and slightly smaller at the bottom, an elegant tumbler. He touched, it was frictionless. It slid and began to tilt.
    Rapidly, he caught the glass just before it went down.
    Lady Perfection observed. “Timing is everything, isn’t it?”
    “It is.” Eric concurred. He didn’t like the way she had said that.
    On the sync’d PCs, a News Website was updating the situation on climate, radiation, rebellion, and new beginnings.
    “Angels made people? For all this?” Emily asked, observing the logarithmically progression of a disease called Earth. A bold but relevant question. Eric was thinking the same thing. Though small, Emily had good brains and big courage. Eric admired her greatly.
    “Some of us, Product Development, made people, and what you are seeing is the result...” Lady replied, peculiarly unemotionless. Sir and I are from Remedial.”
    “You have called us ‘Angels’ - we are similar to one another, yet diverse, just like your people. We have been called ‘Aliens,’ and ‘Demons’ as well - they’re all just words, shades of interpretation. Our only desire is to become Gods, but regrettably...
    “We have existed longer than humans and we’re more advanced in the methods of physics and science. Humans are more intuitive and more ingenious, but due to some flaw in the creation scheme, you came out unbalanced... despite our best practices. Sadly it’s a bit late now.”
    Eric was getting really worried. Lady Angel said “late” once more!
    “We are at a singularity, a turning point, and it isn’t good,” She continued and stopped abruptly.
    The sync’d PC’s displayed a Wikipedia Page entitled “Black Death” - a narrative, with artistically detailed illustrations, of the Fourteenth Century Plague that had wiped out half the Human Population.
    Emily and Eric exchanged worried glances.
    The two of them, Lady and Sir Angel, were really stressing out. They seemed to be almost in tears.
    Sir Angel took over - Lady was in really bad shape. “We’re slow learners. This is our second attempt. I’m sorry.”
    Something outside attracted Eric’s peripheral vision. He and Emily panned and looked outside together, through the thick glazing toward the Atlantic.
    The sun, slightly above the horizon was expanding, inflating like a huge golden balloon. Eric thought of the article on an early Twentieth Century airship called a Zeppelin, floating filled with hydrogen gas, lighter than air, which could burn. In the early 1900’s the Hindenburg had caught fire with about a hundred people on board. The Zeppelin Industry was finished after that.
    The sun kept increasing, becoming a huge oval. It turned whiter than ever witnessed by human eyes. The layered azure sky became twelve shades of writhing, shimmering red. The Atlantic boiled violet blue, disappearing. It was getting really hot, even inside the Diamond...

#

    The otherworldly, incredibly crafted crystal meeting table was melted beyond recognition, containing the charred remains of the four creatures. The remedy had worked according to plan, and on schedule.

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