The Liberation of Derek Fremont

Chapter 1

Enter. Process. Discharge. Next. Enter. Process. Error. Report to the Liberator. Report. Report.

"Mr. Liberator, we have a problem sir." The voice of the junior Administrator crackled through the old-fashioned radio. The Liberator gritted his teeth and drummed his fingers on the antique desk in front of him.
"Well take care of it! That's your job Mr. Lane! Do it!"
"I know sir, but this different. We ran him three times, and error everytime. I think you better get down here sir." There was a click, and Mr. Lane was gone. The Liberator growled and picked up the mask sitting on the desk. It was gold and covered everything but his mouth. His piercing green eyes blazed through the eye holes; his long dark brown hair was pulled back. He wore a completely white suit with gold around the cuffs and a forest green satin tie around his neck. With a sigh of frustration, the Liberator stepped out of his dim office and into an entirely glass elevator which took him to the Processing Room.
"Ah, Mr. Liberator, sir. I'm very sorry to disturb you with such unimportant matters, but this one seems to be, well, important to an extent." The Liberator replied with a curt nod. "This way sir, we have the subject detained."
Mr. Lane wore a standard Administration suit. A baby blue collared shirt, encrusted was the Liberator's seal: a gold mask with blazing green from the eye holes. Black slacks and a satin black tie were mandatory. Every department wore a different colored shirt, signifying which department they were from. The Liberator insisted upon this; he loved order.
"Mr. Lane, I hope you understand that if this was not worth my time, which I remind you, is very precious, you shall feel my wrath." Mr. Lane nodded his head, and waved away the thought with his hand. They approached a steel, vault-like door, which Mr. Lane entered a code and confirmed DNA. The Liberator entered the sterile holding room. A young man sat at the steel table with his head down, and body trembling. "Mr. Lane, shut the door please." Mr. Lane obliged and exited the room. "Look me in the eye young man. I said look me in the eye young man!"
The trembling man slowly lifted his eyes to meet the Liberator's. A brief glint of shock filled his eyes, and then returned to normal. The Liberator stood directly in front of the man. "What's your name?" The man bit his lip and inhaled.
"Fornickey. Uh, Oliver Fornickey." He looked at the Liberator's eyes, which flashed a different emotion than aggression for a moment, "Oliver Fornickey, sir." He added hastily.
"Well, Mr. Fornickey, it appears you have caused quite a problem in this facility. Do you have any idea why that may be?" Oliver shook his head quickly. "Do you realize that I had to give up my precious time to come down here and sort out this problem? This problem, of course, being you Mr. Fornickey." Oliver nodded. "You registered error, my machines never get errors! What did you do Mr. Fornickey? Why did my flawless machines stop working, because of you?"
"Because maybe they aren't so flawless." Olivers voice was barely above a whisper.
"What! What did you say?" The Liberator slammed his hands down on the table and leaned close to Oliver, and grabbed his shirt. "You are messing with the wrong man Mr. Fornickey. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my facility. Now, you will be hand processed, and then you will proceed to another holding chamber in which you will stay until I determine otherwise. Do you understand Mr. Fornickey?" Oliver nodded.
The Liberator opened the door and exited. Outside, Mr. Lane stood waiting for instructions. The Liberator briefed him quickly on having the young man hand processed, and told him to have a crew inspect the machines to make sure they weren't faulty. When Mr. Lane left him, the Liberator sighed loudly, and returned to his office.
The Liberator sat down at his desk, and grabbed the remote on top of it. A plethora of screens became apparent. Some flipped down out of the ceiling, others pushed their way from the floor, and some extended out from the walls. The Liberator stared at the screens, switching his gaze between them every few seconds. The screens displayed various sectors of the facility; activity areas, learning areas, food areas, hospital areas. The Liberator grinned briefly at the success of his domain. With a press of a button, all the screens joined together to become one big screen. The screens now showed Oliver Fornickey being processed.
"Oliver Fornickey, from this day forward you will be known as RedSeven. The name you once had no longer exists, nor does the person that once accompanied that body. RedSeven, however is responsible for retaining the memories once possessed by Oliver Fornickey, however, no name will be associated with these memories, only the thought of a being present in those memories. Do you understand RedSeven?" RedSeven nodded his head. "Very well. You will now proceed to the clothing and body sector. My associate, Mr. Williams, will take you down there. Thank you RedSeven, and have a very nice new life here in our lovely facility." Another nod and RedSeven left the company of Mr. Lane.
The Liberator grinned at the success of the hand processing. He greatly appreciated the work Mr. Lane did for him, though he would never let that known to Mr. Lane. The Liberator believed that pride was the worst of all human nature. It was his number one teaching to all who lived in his facility. He turned his attention back to the screens, which now showed RedSeven in the clothing and body sector.
"If you'd step this way RedSeven, I'll give you your clothes." RedSeven nodded and followed Mr. Williams. "This is your everyday wear." Mr. Williams held up a red t-shirt that formed to the body, along with white slacks with red lines running down the leg. "These are your training wear." Mr. Williams held up a red collared shirt, black slacks, and a black satin tie. "You will always have clean clothes, in your room there will be a bin in which you can put your clothes at anytime of the day, and they will be clean within five minutes. Understand?" RedSeven nodded. "Now, we must take care of those tattoos, piercings, and hair."
RedSeven followed Mr. Williams once again to a sterile room with a single stool in the center. The walls had several cabinets which contained various tools. Mr. Williams went to one cabinet and pulled what looked like an over sized pistol out out. "Please take off your street garb RedSeven. This will be painful." RedSeven obeyed, his naked body revealed several large tattoos and a few small ones. Mr. Williams clicked on the over sized pistol, and began shooting at RedSeven.
Out of the gun came long streams of clear liquid. This liquid attached itself to RedSeven's skin and began absorbing the ink and color of the tattoos. RedSeven yelled out in pain; the liquid was sucking away at his skin like a leach, ripping the tattoos from RedSeven's body. Once all the color from the tatoo was gone, Mr. Williams pushed a button, and the gun began sucking the liquid off of RedSeven. Mr. Williams clicked off the gun, and looked at RedSeven whose body was pink. RedSeven shook in his seat, his eyes large, his skin still stinging in pain. "You may have a brief break between treatments RedSeven." The shaking RedSeven nodded.
"Pain elimates pride. Along with public humiliation. Pride is the worst quality one can have. Get that in your head now, before it's forced there." Mr. Williams put away the pistol, and went to another cabinet. This time he pulled out an instrument that had a small metal probe at the end, and a handle at the other. "Again, this will be quite painful RedSeven." He went to RedSeven, pulled out the earring in his ear, and put the probe in it's place. A flick of a switch, and the probe turned on, vibrating and whirring. Mr. Williams slowly started pulling the probe out, the hole healing itself as he pulled. RedSeven yelped in pain, gritting his teeth as the probe closed up the hole. Finally, Mr. Williams had the probe completely out of RedSeven's. " There we are RedSeven. One last thing, and we'll be done." Mr. Williams got out a final instrument, hair clippers with some modifications. "There will be a very intense burning this time." He turned on the clippers and shaved RedSeven's head. The clippers released an acid of sorts, burning all the remaining hair on RedSeven's skull. Mr. Williams did the same to RedSeven's face. RedSeven screamed and yelped in complete pain. When Mr. Williams was done, he pulled out a large hose and sprayed RedSeven down. The water contained a healing element which turned the pink skin back to a normal shade, the burned scalp to a smooth surface, and burned face was now soft to the touch.
"Done?" The words barely escaped RedSeven's lips. Though the pain was gone, he was more exhausted than he had ever been. Mr. Williams nodded and tossed him his everyday wear. He put them on as quickly as his shaking body would allow, and stood up straight when he had finally succeeded. "My room now?" RedSeven said in a whisper. Another nod from Mr. Williams, and the two men left the clothing and body sector.
The Liberator clicked off the screens, and returned them to their normal random formation. The screens again showed many different sectors and many different people. The Liberator tilted back his chair and sighed. The cleansing process always relaxed him. He was now in a state of complete relaxation. With one last look at the screens, the Liberator closed one eye and then other. Ah, sleep.

Chapter 2

With his hat pulled low over his face, Derek Fremont walked briskly down the cracked pavement. Rain poured down, drenching all that dared to walk to their destination; Derrick tightened his coat around him. Cabs drove past at high speeds spraying water all over the sidewalk. Derek grit his teeth, the cold was seeping into his bones. "Gotta get home. Gotta get home." Derek muttered this repeatedly until he came to his building. Fumbling for his keys, Derek noticed a young woman sitting in the concave of the apartment building next to the door. "You okay Miss?" The young woman looked up, her eyes were bloodshot and her clothes were ragged and torn. She nodded her head, and then frantically began shaking it. Tears rolled down her face and her chin quivered.
"No, no, no. I-I'm not. P-Please don't leave me out here. T-The d-doorman w-wouldn't let m-me i-in." Without hesitation Derek grabbed her hands and pulled her off the ground. He immediately noticed blood seeping from underneath her pantleg, and pulled her arm around his shoulders.
"Come on, we'll get you cleaned up and fed." He entered the building and the elevator.
When they reached his floor, he again fumbled for his keys and opened the door to his apartment. He opened the door, and then helped the young woman inside. His apartment was clean, and filled with antiques. Beautiful pieces of furniture from earlier centuries were placed in decorative locations, and paintings from master artists hung on the walls. Derek led the woman to one of the few modern pieces in his apartment, a shabby red couch. She laid down on it, and Derek knelt beside the couch. He studied her for a moment, intently gazing at her. "What happened to you?" His voice was barely above a whisper, words said directly into her ear. She shivered, and grabbed his hand and held on tightly. "Dear me, something is really wrong isn't it?" The woman nodded slightly and squeezed his hand. "You are perfect. You are wonderful. You are essential to my life. I knew it the moment I saw you. You are what I need." Startled, the woman let go of his hand and sat up as quickly as her injured body would allow. "It's true. You are the answer to all my hopes, dreams, and ambitions. I need you. What is your name dear one?" The woman's eyes stared into his; they were sapphire blue.
"Ellie. Eleanore Rozlynn." She shivered again, the blood on her pants was now a deep crimson, and looked down at it. "Please, can you help me? My boyfriend, that is ex-boyfriend, did this to me. He-he was angry, and w-well, he di-did this." Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her face. Derek touched her quivering lips briefly, and left the room. When he returned he had a white towel, and a pair of pajamas. He handed them to Ellie and turned his back while she wrapped her leg in the towel, and put the pajamas over it. He turned back around, and climbed on the couch and wrapped his arms around the shaking girl.
"Ellie, nothing will ever happen to you again. I give you my word. My finding you was the best thing that could've happened to you. You are now liberated. You are free from that awful relationship." Derek sat there, rocking the woman slowly back and forth with his eyes closed. This girl was his, all his. She was raw material to shape into what a woman like her should be like.

Chapter 3

"Sir? Excuse me sir?" The crackling radio came to life. The Liberator startled awake, chair falling backward. He groaned and picked himself off of the floor. Once he had gathered himself and then spoke into the radio.
"Mr. Lane?"
"I've been observing RedSeven. Something about him is different, he has a certain quality about him that none of the others have. His status is so far ahead of others, even those who have been here longer. When compared to a Green, it would be difficult to tell who has seniority. I believe it's too early to tell for sure, but there is no doubt that he must be watched."
"Thank you Mr. Lane. You have been quite helpful. I shall personally check on him myself later this afternoon, perhaps I can identify why he is exceeding so well. Thank you Mr. Lane. Now, get on with your job." There was a click on the other end, and the Liberator's office was quiet. "My dream is coming true. I never thought this would happen, and yet, I did know it was going to happen. This is beyond all my expectations as to what this would feel like. Finally, after so long I can realized my dream is true.
This new arrival, what is it about him? Why is he so different? The only glitch to ever happen in my flawless system happens with his arrival? What am I to do? I suspect the truth, but I cannot know for sure." The Liberator stood up and paced around the room. He pulled off his mask and held it out in front of him, admiring it. The craftmanship was superb, handmade by someone who had once loved him dearly. He smiled, how long it had been since he had first put on the mask and called himself the Liberator. He ran his fingers over the mask, his source of anonymity and power. This mask was the Liberator, but the man who held it was the man he once had been. He sighed and set the mask on the desk; he still had a long day ahead of him. He sat down again in his chair and used the remote to bring out the screens; he took a brief look at the normal security channels and then switched to RedSeven's room.
RedSeven sat on his bed flipping through one of the many regulation manuals. "Hmm, what interesting philosphies. I suppose one must have such teachings in place to become a so-called "liberator" but these are just illogical. No, I must concentrate. I must learn these and abide by them...for now. I can, and must do it." He crossed his legs and dove into a different manual. He shook his head on various occasions but continued to read. Suddenly, he look up and stared straight at the location of the discrete security camera. He grinned and waved, saluted and went back to his reading.
"What! He knows about the cameras! How is this possible?" The Liberator snatched up the radio and barked into it, "Mr. Lane! Get to that man's room now and ask him how the hell he knew where the goddamn camera was! Do it now!" Mr. Lane voiced his affirmation and the radio crackled, then fell silent. The Liberator clenched his fists and grit his teeth; this was not acceptable.
Several minutes later the radio came to life once again, "Sir?" The Liberator picked up his radio and gave the go ahead. "RedSeven said it was extremely obvious, he said he knew we'd be keeping and eye on him and watched for any signs of a camera." The Liberator bit his lip and exhaled sharply. He had had enough of the young man's unruly behavior. He thought for a moment, suddenly he snapped his fingers. "That's it." He said and quickly put on his mask, exiting the room at a brisk pace. He entered the elevator and tapped his foot impatiently; this had to be done quickly. He pushed the earpiece he wore and spoke to Mr. Lane, "Please bring RedSeven to the examination room Mr. Lane. I want him to take the tests, novice to advanced. Yes Mr. Lane, I mean all the tests. Have him there in fifteen minutes, and make sure he's wearing the proper clothing. Thank you John." The Liberator covered his face, so many years, and never once a slip-up, until now.
"What was that sir?"
"I said thank you Mr. Lane?"
"Are you sure that's what you said?"
"Yes Mr. Lane, I'm quite sure."
"Alright sure, I shall get RedSeven prepared then." The Liberator nodded and the elevator reached his desired floor. He breezed out of the elevator and made his way towards the Exam Observation Room.
When he arrived, Mr. Lane was waiting outside of the room. He opened the Observation Room door for the Liberator, and followed behind him. Inside, the Liberator sat in an armchair which faced a wall that pulled up to reveal a window. The one being observed couldn't see through the window, this was to keep a subject focused. Mr. Lane walked over to a desk which had a computer and a microphone on its top. He tapped the microphone and turned on the computer.
"RedSeven, you will be given a series of tests which range in difficulty. You will begin with the novice tests, and work your way up to the advance tests. Some of these will be given orally, and you will enter your answer on the pad in front of you. Others, will be written and you will answer in the same manner. Some will be written, but require oral answers in which you will clearly state your answer so that the computer can clearly understand you. Is this clear RedSeven?"
Inside the Exam Room, RedSeven sat at a table that was embedded with a digital pad of paper and a stylus. He wore his collared red shirt, slacks, and tie; the standard for any form of testing. He looked directly at the wall in front of him, and nodded his understanding. He sat waiting for directions, stylus in hand.
"Test number seven Mr. Lane. I want to lure him into a false sense of security by striking with harder questions first. My hope is that he will break Regulation Number One: Pride is the enemy of all humans. He will become cocky and his testing scores will not be as high." Mr. Lane nodded.
"RedSeven, let us begin. I shall read the question you have, for this question you will answer orally." He paused, RedSeven nodded again. "Alright, here we go: In the Standard Regulations, how does Pride come full circle?" RedSeven tapped the table in front of him, blinked twice, licked his lips and began:
"Pride is regarded as the enemy of all humans, throughout the Regulations, pride is spawned in many places. Pride is connected to emotions which are expressed on a daily basis with humans. This ultimately comes directly back to pride, plain and simple. That is how it comes full circle Mr. Lane." RedSeven smirked slightly and drummed on the table. Mr. Lane nodded to himself, and continued on with the testing.
Hours later, RedSeven completed the thirty-seventh test. Despite the Liberator's prediction, RedSeven did not grow cocky and proud. He was confident, but the regulations never said anything about being over confident. The Liberator was outraged, "Mr. Lane! Are the final scores in yet?" He tapped his foot, staring straight into the Exam Room, not turning his head to talk to Mr. Lane.
"Almost sir, almost." Mr. Lane clicked and typed for several more minutes and finally gave a sign of relief. "Alright, now the results." He clicked once more and inhaled sharply, and gave a low whistle. "Jesus, it's perfect; not one flaw. He did the impossible, I don't understand it, but he did it. Not one question is incorrect. God, it's amazing." He looked over to the Liberator who was still in the same motionless position. He was still staring when he finally said, "Yes. He did it." hE got up out of the chair and looked at Mr. Lane. "We can't release him. He may have taken all of the tests, but he is not ready to be released. He isn't formed yet; he knows the answers intellectually, but he doesn't feel them in his bones. He memorized, none of our subjects have ever managed to that before. They all take time to form and mold into the right kind of person.
He must be moved to the Isolation Sector. Up until this day it has not been used for anything more important than storage. Tonight, send your men to clear it out and get it running. Tomorrow, early tomorrow, he will be transferred there and I will speak to him myself. Go now, I must rest. This day has been too long, and I fear I'm not as young as I used to be." Mr. Lane nodded and hurried to the door, the Liberator slowly exited and made his way to the elevator. Exhaustion seeped into his body, pains and soreness held his body hostage. He groaned quitely and rested his head against the elevator; he was asleep before the doors even closed.
"Where'm I?" The Liberator woke to find himself slumped against the elevator wall, the dim lights twinkling slightly. Blurred vision kept from identifying which floor he was on. Slowly, he lifted himself from the floor and took the mask off of his face. He gathered himself and pressed the button for the correct location. He had never done anything like that, he surpressed the gnawing fear inside; the fear of growing old.
When he reached the correct floor, he dragged himself down the hall, past his office door and into his apartment. The whole floor was restricted to anyone but himself. His apartment was large and comfortable, filled with antiques and beautiful odds and ends. The main attraction was a shabby red couch in the middle of the living room. It had long reached its expiration date, but he didn't care. He loved that couch for so many reasons, he couldn't bear to part with it.